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 Creepypastas

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PostSubject: Creepypastas   Tue Jan 06, 2015 3:03 pm

(Wasn't really sure where to place this category, so if there's any better place to place it, feel free to move it!)

Creepypastas are short, horror stories that circle the web. Most of them are obviously not true; but from what I've heard and read, some people believe that some of them are.

Creepypastas have always scared me, but at the same time, I can't keep myself away from them. So why not scare each other with some, ey? Wink

Here are a few that scared the hell out of me:


The angel statue

This story begins with a couple who decided that they wanted to go out for the night, so they called up their usual babysitter to take care of the kids. When the babysitter arrived, the children were already asleep, so she decided that she would pass the time by watching some TV.

However, the only TV in the house that had cable was situated inside the parents’ bedroom, so she called them to see if it was cool with them. The parents agreed, but then the babysitter asked if she could cover up the angel statue which was situated in the room, as it made her feel nervous.

Upon hearing this, the father hesitated, then instructed her to immediately get the kids out of the house and call the police, because they did not own an angel statue.When the police arrived, the babysitter and children were found lifeless in a pool of blood, and the statue had disappeared.


1999

The tale follows the journey of a Canadian blogger named Elliot as he tracks down the meaning of a mysterious TV channel that he watched in the year 1999. He remembered it being extremely sketchy and, in hindsight, he realized that it was most likely run by a local predator. As he continued to investigate, he learned that the man running the channel was attempting to lure children into his house for sacrificial purposes.

To top it all off, Elliot also realized that the crazed man was torturing and killing children while wearing a bear costume and calling himself “Mr. Bear.” There were only a couple of “shows” that aired on this mysterious channel, most likely because it was only operational from 4:00 PM to 9:00 PM. The first show was called Booby and featured characters that were live-action hands on top of a table, which was obviously very low budget. The show starred a hand named Booby that would find itself in a different situation every episode.

However, the episodes got progressively weirder. In fact, during an episode entitled “Playing with Scissors,” Booby appeared to be holding a pair of scissors while another, smaller hand was jerking violently in the background, as if it were being forcefully held in the air. Booby then proceeded to repeatedly stab the smaller hand with the scissors while a muffled child’s scream could be heard. The scissors eventually got to the bone and made a horrific crunching sound. That was the last time Elliot ever watched an episode of Booby.

Next up on the psychotic schedule was Mr. Bear’s Cellar, which featured the mentally unstable man dressed up as Mr. Bear. What actually went on during the Mr. Bear episodes are too gory to describe here, so you’d have to read the rest of it for yourself. Eventually, the police intervened and shut down the sadistic TV channel for good.


I Sat On The Bus

I sat on the bus, on my way to school. Listening to music, and paying little to no attention to the other students.
At one of the stops my mind snapped back to reality. I looked towards the small house. Tommy’s house, I thought.
A hand slipped through the drapes of the window and waved the bus driver to move on. "He’s sick", I thought, paying no large amount of attention to the situation.

The day flew by.

I watched the local news channel after school, and what I heard paralyzed me. Tommy’s entire family was murdered that day by an unknown suspect. After hearing this news, I moved back up to my room and quietly fell asleep.

The next day, I sat on the bus. We drove past Tommy’s house and the bus driver, unaware of Tommy’s families fate, stopped at his home.
As I was about to get up and explain to her what had happened, something caught my eye. A pale hand slipped through the drapes of the window, and waved the bus driver to move on.

I sat on the bus, terrified.


The Rake

In 2003, in the northeast United States, there was an incident involving a strange, human-like creature which attracted a lot of attention from local media. After the story initially broke, most online and written documents were mysteriously destroyed. Although these accounts were gone, sightings of the creature continued to become even more frequent.

What’s odd is that many people reacted differently to the creature. In fact, the emotions experienced ranged from traumatic levels of fright to an almost childlike sense of curiosity. The sightings continued, and so the hunt for more information began. Finally, in 2006, a collaboration of various researchers made a chilling discovery. They had unearthed nearly two dozen documents dating from the 12th century to the present day, all of them describing various sightings of a creature called “the Rake.”

The sighting that stood out the most was a woman’s account that dated from the same year of the discovery. A synopsis is provided below:A woman awoke in the middle of the night and accidentally ended up waking her husband as well. She apologized and her husband turned around to look at her. He gasped and immediately grabbed his wife, fearing for her safety. At the foot of their bed, sitting and facing away from them, was the infamous creature which was described as looking like a big, hairless dog.

While the couple’s eyes were still adjusting to the dark, the creature sprang up and crouched less than a foot from the husband’s face. It stared at him for a while, then made a dash for their children’s bedrooms. The terrified couple immediately ran after it, fearing the worst for their children, but they were too late. They ran straight to their daughter’s room, only to find her mutilated and close to death. As their daughter was dying, her final words were, “He is the Rake.” Then, as mysteriously as it had appeared, the Rake disappeared, never to be seen again.


Like I said, these creepypastas scared me a lot. It’s not really because I truly think that they are real - although, at the same time, since there aren’t any "classical" monsters involved - it automatically scares me even more. The more "real" stories are, the closer to reality they are, the more they scare me. For example, the "1999" and "I sat on the bus" story scare me more than "The Rake", since it's not really proven that the creature exits. I don't think it's a bad story though - it's a really exciting story, that still scares me, just not as much as some others.

What did you think about these, did they scare you? And do you know any others creepypastas? If you know any other, please share!


(Creepypastas taken from here: http://listverse.com/2014/04/03/10-creepypasta-that-will-scare-you-silly/ and here: http://www.creepypasta.com)
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Tue Jan 13, 2015 1:59 pm

Im not 100% sure exactly what a creepypasta is ( i thought you were going to be advertising a Halloween night at a Italian restaurant or something ) but if they're ghost type stories Ive got one...............

Years back i used to work for a company that maintained ATM's and alarm systems, i was on call over night one time and i got a call to go to Silverdale Library, i'd never heard of it, its a tiny hamlet in the southern Lake District, its been there forever, one of those places that's mentioned in the Doomsday Book. It was a tiny library, one room downstairs full of books and a staff room upstairs and that was it, i did feel spooked in the upstairs staff room, not the those are the type of windows that faces look through kind of spooked, the nasty kind, i'd felt this many times before and tried to ignore it. The sensor in the downstairs room had been activated, i could see no reason at all for the alarm activating, my experience told me to put the kettle on and sit and watch the sensor until the spider came out that was hiding behind it, spiders cause so many alarm activations, so that's what i did, sat and waited, still thinking about the nastiness upstairs and pretending to myself that im totally comfortable. After a short while a book fell from a shelf, i thought to myself that'll be it, the book moved earlier causing the alarm and now its finally fell, that'll be it. I picked the book up and it had landed open and face down, it was open on a page that was the start of a chapter called " How to follow your own ESP" or words to that effect, at this point the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, i couldn't believe that it was coincidence after my spooked feeling in the upstairs room and all i wanted to do was get out of there, did the paperwork reset the alarm and was out of there within minutes. Got back in the car and felt totally petrified. I had to smoke two joints before i'd calmed down, one was usually enough.

You're thinking, yeah Thug its a decent ghost type story but its not really a creepypasta, well this is where it turns into a creepypasta ( i think ).

Just one detail that's kind of important to the story, a point that you wouldn't know unless i told you. In that job there a quite a few scary places that you have to visit in the middle of the night on your own, some are only scary because its 3am, mid winter, blowing a gale and the building you're about to enter all on your own is five hundred years old, you feel like you're in a horror movie before you even go into the building. You eventually get used to the spooked feeling but sometimes its a nasty spooked feeling and you know that you felt it and you never ever want to go back there again. When you come across one of those places you keep it to yourself, you never ever tell a work colleague, not because you don't want to scare the life out of him, but because next time the alarm comes in you can make your excuses and pass it on to someone else that's totally unaware of where they're going and what happened to you there. Silverdale Library was one of those places, i never told anyone about it at work, ever.

A year or so later................ I was taking over from someone at midnight, he'd been on the early evening shift and i was doing the over night shift, he'd pass on any info to me that i needed to know for later on. He'd been working with us for about three months and he was still very much scared of the dark ( everyone is, don't feel like a wimp ), he'd had a nasty experience in a sixteenth century manor house a week or so earlier and he was a nervous wreck, the type you often had to meet at alarm activations because he was scared to go in on his own. I noticed how pale he looked as i entered the office, i said hello and he replied with "you've been to Silverdale Library haven't you, i saw your name on the key safe register, its only activated once before and it was you that went there, do you remember it? ". At this point im in a bit of a quandary, im dreading him telling me that i have to go there, I told him i remembered the place. He said " Ive just got back from there, its a spooky building, really small but spooky as fuck i was scared to death and wanted to get out, i was writing the paperwork and a book fell from a shelf, i picked it up and it was open on a page called how to follow your own ESP, i set the alarm and fucked off", he told me he couldn't remember ever feeling more scared than that. I was thinking to myself, is this guy winding me up, how could he know, Ive never ever told anyone, i decided to be honest. I told him the exact same thing had happened to me there and i told him why Id never told anyone, i advised him to do the same. I never saw the man again, he left work that night and never came back.



Goes without saying he was a Cockney.


Is that a creepypasta or a load of drivel? (i tried me best, but im obviously not Steven King). Its a true story though, keep that in mind.


Watch this!



I love a mid morning smoke.
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Sat Jan 31, 2015 4:17 pm

Uneducated Thug wrote:
Im not 100% sure exactly what a creepypasta is ( i thought you were going to be advertising a Halloween night at a Italian restaurant or something ) but if they're ghost type stories Ive got one...............

Years back i used to work for a company that maintained ATM's and alarm systems, i was on call over night one time and i got a call to go to Silverdale Library, i'd never heard of it, its a tiny hamlet in the southern Lake District, its been there forever, one of those places that's mentioned in the Doomsday Book. It was a tiny library, one room downstairs full of books and a staff room upstairs and that was it, i did feel spooked in the upstairs staff room, not the those are the type of windows that faces look through kind of spooked, the nasty kind, i'd felt this many times before and tried to ignore it. The sensor in the downstairs room had been activated, i could see no reason at all for the alarm activating, my experience told me to put the kettle on and sit and watch the sensor until the spider came out that was hiding behind it, spiders cause so many alarm activations, so that's what i did, sat and waited, still thinking about the nastiness upstairs and pretending to myself that im totally comfortable. After a short while a book fell from a shelf, i thought to myself that'll be it, the book moved earlier causing the alarm and now its finally fell, that'll be it. I picked the book up and it had landed open and face down, it was open on a page that was the start of a chapter called " How to follow your own ESP" or words to that effect, at this point the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, i couldn't believe that it was coincidence after my spooked feeling in the upstairs room and all i wanted to do was get out of there, did the paperwork reset the alarm and was out of there within minutes. Got back in the car and felt totally petrified. I had to smoke two joints before i'd calmed down, one was usually enough.

You're thinking, yeah Thug its a decent ghost type story but its not really a creepypasta, well this is where it turns into a creepypasta ( i think ).

Just one detail that's kind of important to the story, a point that you wouldn't know unless i told you. In that job there a quite a few scary places that you have to visit in the middle of the night on your own, some are only scary because its 3am, mid winter, blowing a gale and the building you're about to enter all on your own is five hundred years old, you feel like you're in a horror movie before you even go into the building. You eventually get used to the spooked feeling but sometimes its a nasty spooked feeling and you know that you felt it and you never ever want to go back there again. When you come across one of those places you keep it to yourself, you never ever tell a work colleague, not because you don't want to scare the life out of him, but because next time the alarm comes in you can make your excuses and pass it on to someone else that's totally unaware of where they're going and what happened to you there. Silverdale Library was one of those places, i never told anyone about it at work, ever.

A year or so later................ I was taking over from someone at midnight, he'd been on the early evening shift and i was doing the over night shift, he'd pass on any info to me that i needed to know for later on. He'd been working with us for about three months and he was still very much scared of the dark ( everyone is, don't feel like a wimp ), he'd had a nasty experience in a sixteenth century manor house a week or so earlier and he was a nervous wreck, the type you often had to meet at alarm activations because he was scared to go in on his own. I noticed how pale he looked as i entered the office, i said hello and he replied with "you've been to Silverdale Library haven't you, i saw your name on the key safe register, its only activated once before and it was you that went there, do you remember it? ". At this point im in a bit of a quandary, im dreading him telling me that i have to go there, I told him i remembered the place. He said " Ive just got back from there, its a spooky building, really small but spooky as fuck i was scared to death and wanted to get out, i was writing the paperwork and a book fell from a shelf, i picked it up and it was open on a page called how to follow your own ESP, i set the alarm and fucked off", he told me he couldn't remember ever feeling more scared than that. I was thinking to myself, is this guy winding me up, how could he know, Ive never ever told anyone, i decided to be honest. I told him the exact same thing had happened to me there and i told him why Id never told anyone, i advised him to do the same. I never saw the man again, he left work that night and never came back.



Goes without saying he was a Cockney.


Is that a creepypasta or a load of drivel? (i tried me best, but im obviously not Steven King). Its a true story though, keep that in mind.


Watch this!



I love a mid morning smoke.


.....Well if this story didn't scare the crap out of me I don't know what, haha. Thank god I didn't read it before going to bed. If this happened to me, I would be scared as hell.
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Sat Jan 31, 2015 4:17 pm

...And yeah, to me at least, that definitely counts as a creepypasta!
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Sun Feb 01, 2015 11:18 am

Ok so I'm finally having a look at this thread. I couldn't read it in the afternoon/evening since I don't want to be freaking out hearing stuff while trying to sleep... It's 11 am so I think I'm in the clear. Let's see... Well, thankfully enough most of them were cut too short to really get my into scared mode. Like the angel statue, it gets to the conclusion too fast to even make as much effect as it should. I agree with Radioactive, the more "close to reality" the story sounds, the most it gives you the creeps. I liked the bus one, but again, they get it to the most "likely" conclusion. On the other hand, frigging Thug scared the shit out of me, you need to add to the story that I was listening to Daniel Johnston in the meanwhile, so that counts as a 4x multiplier or something. However, if that really happened, you know that a book which is not perfectly placed in a bookshelf is more likely to fall that any other book there. And also if a page was most likely to open once, it's not such a surprising fact it opened in the exact same page the second time it fell to the ground. Maybe someone was very keen on the idea of reading that very chapter hahahaha. Happens to me with many books which will open in the same page every time I get them.

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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Sat Feb 07, 2015 12:58 am

FINALLY!!! I was wondering when creepypastas would appear in the forums. Luckily, I happen to know some very creepy creepypastas.
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Sat Feb 07, 2015 1:21 am

ATrix112524 wrote:
FINALLY!!! I was wondering when creepypastas would appear in the forums. Luckily, I happen to know some very creepy creepypastas.

As terrifying as they may be, I can't say I'm not looking forward to reading them!

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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Sun Feb 08, 2015 11:58 pm

Pretending to be Asleep Doesn't Work.

A young boy is sleeping in his bed on a usual night. He hears footsteps outside his door, and peeks out of his eyes to see what is happening. His door swings open quietly to reveal a murderer carrying the corpses of his parents. After silently propping them up on a chair, he writes something on the wall in the blood of the dead bodies. He then hides under the childs bed.

The child is scared beyond belief. He can’t read the writing on the wall and he knows the man is under his bed. Like any child, he pretends that he slept through the whole thing and has not awoken yet. He lays still as the bodies, quietly hearing the breathes from under his bed.

An hour passes, and his eyes are adjusting more and more to the darkness. He tries to make out the words, but it’s a struggle. He gasps when he finally makes out the sentence.

“I know you’re awake”. He feels something shift underneath his bed.
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Mon Feb 09, 2015 12:10 am

ATrix112524 wrote:
Pretending to be Asleep Doesn't Work.

A young boy is sleeping in his bed on a usual night. He hears footsteps outside his door, and peeks out of his eyes to see what is happening. His door swings open quietly to reveal a murderer carrying the corpses of his parents. After silently propping them up on a chair, he writes something on the wall in the blood of the dead bodies. He then hides under the childs bed.

The child is scared beyond belief. He can’t read the writing on the wall and he knows the man is under his bed. Like any child, he pretends that he slept through the whole thing and has not awoken yet. He lays still as the bodies, quietly hearing the breathes from under his bed.

An hour passes, and his eyes are adjusting more and more to the darkness. He tries to make out the words, but it’s a struggle. He gasps when he finally makes out the sentence.

“I know you’re awake”. He feels something shift underneath his bed.

Can't read it right before bed time. I know I'm a pussy.

EDIT: Glad I didn't, even though I there's no way to hide under my bed and I don't live with my parents so I can't relate to that story at all.

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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Mon Feb 09, 2015 8:11 pm

This is not a story

This is me. I’m here. I’m shifting the words that you’re reading, altering them from whatever this person wrote.

I've been here for awhile. For as long as you can remember, anyway. Sometimes I say your name as you’re falling asleep, or whisper urgently in your ear. Do you remember the time that I screamed, throwing panic through you and setting your heart racing?

That was fun.

You’re wondering who I am. That’s only natural. Of course, you already know.

I’m you. I’m the real you. I’m the mind that existed here before you stole my body, before you forgot about being a parasite. I’m the child who looked the wrong way, asked the wrong question, saw the wrong thing… but I’m not so little any more.

You may have forgotten me, but I’m still here. I've always been here.

I’m going to get out soon...
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Mon Feb 09, 2015 8:14 pm

ATrix112524 wrote:
This is not a story

This is me. I’m here. I’m shifting the words that you’re reading, altering them from whatever this person wrote.

I've been here for awhile. For as long as you can remember, anyway. Sometimes I say your name as you’re falling asleep, or whisper urgently in your ear. Do you remember the time that I screamed, throwing panic through you and setting your heart racing?

That was fun.

You’re wondering who I am. That’s only natural. Of course, you already know.

I’m you. I’m the real you. I’m the mind that existed here before you stole my body, before you forgot about being a parasite. I’m the child who looked the wrong way, asked the wrong question, saw the wrong thing… but I’m not so little any more.

You may have forgotten me, but I’m still here. I've always been here.

I’m going to get out soon...

Ok, now you're starting to scare me for realsies.

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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Mon Feb 09, 2015 8:42 pm

Then DON'T look behind you...
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Mon Feb 09, 2015 10:33 pm

ATrix112524, glad to see that you like creepypastas, know some really creepy and that you've shared them Very Happy And I promise to read them, but I will have to save it for tomorrow (it's almost 11 o'clock here, and it's pitch dark outside). I just saw something about "hiding under bed" "Something under the bed" in your text, and I want to be able to sleep tonight so... Like I said, I promise to read them, cause I'm really curious, but yeah... Don't want nightmares, and I want sleep, haha. But tomorrow... Wink
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Tue Feb 10, 2015 2:29 am

Hah. I don't know what it is about these stories that scare the crap and creep the hell out of me. I refuse to read them at night and I'm still hesitant to read them in broad daylight. Because these stories stick with you and then night time comes and you're thinking about what you read earlier....oh well. I'll eventually stop being such a silly chicken and read them all. Why I even want to read them, I don't know. Curiosity probably. But we all know what happened to the ever curious cat. I read one of these kind of stories a few years ago and I never got it out of my head. The story wasn't so much as scary as was the part where the story said the same horrible fate would happen to you if you didn't share the story. Kinda like The Ring. You know, share the video and you'll be safe. It's illogical, but still creeped me out big time. I'll still read these stories. Eventually. And then sleep with a light on for at least a month. Until someone comes out with a creepypasta to where a light on won't even make you feel safe.
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Tue Feb 10, 2015 7:37 pm

ATrix112524 wrote:
This is not a story

This is me. I’m here. I’m shifting the words that you’re reading, altering them from whatever this person wrote.

I've been here for awhile. For as long as you can remember, anyway. Sometimes I say your name as you’re falling asleep, or whisper urgently in your ear. Do you remember the time that I screamed, throwing panic through you and setting your heart racing?

That was fun.

You’re wondering who I am. That’s only natural. Of course, you already know.

I’m you. I’m the real you. I’m the mind that existed here before you stole my body, before you forgot about being a parasite. I’m the child who looked the wrong way, asked the wrong question, saw the wrong thing… but I’m not so little any more.

You may have forgotten me, but I’m still here. I've always been here.

I’m going to get out soon...

I found that quite beautifully sad deep rather than scary though... Smile
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Tue Feb 10, 2015 10:58 pm

Okay, so, I read your creepypasta today ATrix112524... And I don't know what's going on with me, but I've become more immune to these kind of stories haha. The creepypasta did scare me, but definitely not as much as I thought it would.

And I'm just like you Cheavy, I really want to, and actually love to read creepypastas. I have no idea why, and it's a horrible idea, cause yeah, loosing sleep isn't really something positive... But I guess it's like you said, curiosity.

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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Sun Feb 22, 2015 11:12 pm

Looks like I have to intensify the creepiness and fear... ok. This creepypasta is one of my favorites. Let me just say that THIS IS BASED ON A TRUE STORY. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO HAVE THIS STORY MAKE YOU LOSE SLEEP. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY LOST SLEEP, PARANOIA, SCREAMS, PURCHASING OF NIGHTLIGHTS, A HIGH ENERGY/POWER BILL, OR HOURS OF RESEARCH TO SEE IF THE STORY IS TRUE. IT IS. SO STOP SEARCHING.


Still reading? Ok. Here we go...



THE DEVIL'S PERFUME

Growing up in the south, in a pretty religious family, folklore is always around. Being Mexican to boot, these stories were always a constant reminder to be a good child. My grandfather believed in this, wholeheartedly. He loved telling us that if we didn't behave, El Cucuy was coming to get us.

El Cucuy was the boogie man. Just like La Llorona was a woman who wept to lure children to the river to drown them as she had done to her own children. How were these age appropriate stories? My grandfather insisted that he saw La Lechuza – a witch turned into a large white owl – roaming in the backyard once.

I started to keep track of when he mentioned one of these names. If my cousins and I were too loud, El Cucuy was coming. If we ran around outside, Le Lechuza would take us away.

In my grandfather’s last few years of life, he never spoke of any of these ghastly creatures anymore. Albeit, we were older and less noisy around him. We would laugh as we’d recall him yelling at us, all the while my grandfather remained silent. Before his health started to decline, he would speak in hushed whispers about things… things that scared him.

What I remember most during his last year was that he was always afraid of the dark. He spent his nights pacing the house. He would call relatives at 3 – 4 am to see what they were doing. Like clockwork, he called my parents house.

3 am phone call. 4 am phone call.

One morning in the summer he didn’t call. He didn't call because he said he smelled something. The story he told my grandma is one that is hard to believe…

He was walking the house, making his rounds. A slight shuffle in his house slippers over the tiled floor. Ssst ssst ssst ssst. He never really picked up his feet. Ssst ssst ssst ssst. He was moving from the kitchen dining area to the front living room. Sometimes when the street light is on, you can see the street from one side of his yard to the other. Cars lining the streets in front of houses where people were sleeping. All but one person.. or so he thought.
He heard something he wasn't sure of. Was it talking or mumbling? Maybe it was humming? No one should be awake at this hour. My grandfather shuffled to the front door. That’s when he saw… Her.

A woman, dressed in dark clothing, walking down the middle of the street.

Ever curious, my grandfather opened the door. He stood behind the screen door in silence as the wind picked up and he smelled it.

In an instant, he smelled something foul. A wall of sulfur. And just like that, it was gone, leaving only a lingering smell of roses. He didn't say anything, didn't move. Then She turned to him.

An old woman, small in stature, with no real facial features he could recall. A darkness covering her face although she was within the beam of the street light. She was wearing a black veil, lace framing her oval shaped face. She looked right at him as she tried to get near. Her feet shuffling toward the edge of his driveway.

Ssst ssst ssst ssst.

Immobile with fear, my grandfather stood at the door, the smell of roses growing stronger as She approached. Her face beginning to compose features. Eyes, dark and set deep under her brow. Small mute mouth. Sunken cheeks that seemed to tug her face even more into an oval shape. Too elongated to be real.

As She approached the driveway, She stopped. The humming was back. Was she talking? Was she singing to him? My grandfather watched as She tried to step onto his property. She struggled. Something was preventing her from walking up the driveway.

Seemingly forced to remain on the street, She stopped humming. Her face was that black hole. The eyes… were they glowing? Was the jaw that far stretched down into a snarled howl shape?

The sulfur smell was back. She, this creature, was unable to cross over onto my grandfathers property. And with a screech, She moved back into the middle of the street

Ssst ssst ssst ssst.

This creature began its humming down the street, seeming to vanish in the darkness that went beyond where the light street could reach.

This went on, every early morning, for several weeks.

My grandfather never told a soul the first few nights. Who would believe him that he saw the Devil in the street at 3 am? The sulfur rose smell lingering in his nostrils so much that he began to overly use his nasal spray. He used these menthol inhalers, one every month. After his visitor’s appearance, he was using one a week until he was placed into ICU on his deathbed.

That holiday season, my aunt saw a woman, walking the streets at night when she went to the kitchen for water. She heard a song that she didn't understand, with the smell of roses. When she approached the door, the woman stood at the driveway and sulfur stained the air. My aunt was too afraid to get any closer to the door and went back to her bedroom.

February of 2009, my grandfather laid with monitors hooked up to him. Delirious from pain medications and his body deteriorating, he began to say he could smell the Devil’s perfume. He was adamant of that rosy sulfur smell in the air. That She went roaming the streets, singing to people to take; sings to them to walk out of their homes. He said the creature would come out of the walls at the foot of his bed in ICU to visit.

This was the first time my aunt heard of someone else speaking of the woman walking the streets, smelling the roses and sulfur. This was the first time something this far-fetched was ever uttered aloud within the family. Everything was always some folklore story. But this? This happened to two different family members.

March of 2009, my grandfather passed away. I had to fly in thinking I wasn't able to say goodbye, but he held on for me. When I heard the stories of this Devil in disguise, I shrugged it off with a smirk.

‘Oh right, like that *really* happened? Pfft!’

‘No, it’s for real, I saw it…’ My aunt loved to exaggerate but the look in her eyes made me skeptical.

That night, I dreamt of the story, as if I was there. I could smell the roses, the sulfur. I saw this small, frail woman walking the street under the street light. When she turned to me in my dream, her face was a black void.

At my grandfather’s funeral, the priest spoke of life and how in death we’re reunited with our loved ones and are at peace. I couldn't shake that feeling of my dream. At the cemetery, by a crooked mesquite tree off in the distance, there was a woman. Small in stature, skinny….

Where were her feet?

Was she looking at me…. How? I couldn't see her face…. It was broad daylight and I couldn't see her face.

I smelled roses.

The wind whipped up and it was warm… and briefly, I smelled it. I smelled the sulfur. There was nothing around but empty fields. Where was this sulfur smell coming from?

I looked around and then back at the tree, but she was gone as was the smell.

Every now and then I hear a sound, like shuffling feet… ssst ssst ssst ssst…. and I smell roses…. ssst ssst ssst ssst…. if I close my eyes, I can see that small figure in black…. ssst ssst ssst ssst…. I open my eyes before She looks at me… ssst ssst ssst ssst….

To this day, I keep seeing this woman... In my dreams... In random places... Everywhere...

My college major is really a cover up. Engineers get the least sleep. I also tell people that I'm a night owl. It's an excuse to avoid sleep, so I don't see Her...

Is that the Devil’s perfume I smell….?

Original Creepypasta link: (http://www.creepypasta.com/tag/based-on-a-true-story/)
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Mon Mar 02, 2015 6:56 am

WARNING!!!!!!!!

THIS IS BASED ON A TRUE STORY. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO HAVE THIS STORY MAKE YOU LOSE SLEEP. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY LOST SLEEP, PARANOIA, SCREAMS, PURCHASING OF NIGHTLIGHTS, A HIGH ENERGY/POWER BILL, OR HOURS OF RESEARCH TO SEE IF THE STORY IS TRUE. IT IS. SO STOP SEARCHING.


Still reading? Ok. Here we go...

THE RUSSIAN SLEEP EXPERIMENT

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn't kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.

The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.

After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself…

After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it… or rather didn't react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.

So did the whispering to the microphones.

After 3 more days passed, the researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.

They announced: “We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom.”

To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: “We no longer want to be freed.”

Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.

The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in ‘life.’

The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject’s thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four ‘surviving’ test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.

The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.

Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep…

To everyone’s surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject’s teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.

In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word “MORE” over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.

The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake…

The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.

The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.

When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. “Keep cutting.”

The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.

Only one response was given: “I must remain awake.”

All three subject’s restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military ‘benefactors’ for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.

In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone’s surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.

The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.

He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. “I won’t be locked in here with these things! Not with you!” he screamed at the man strapped to the table. “WHAT ARE YOU?” he demanded. “I must know!”

The subject smiled.

“Have you forgotten so easily?” The subject asked. “We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread.”

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject’s heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, “So… nearly… free…”

Original Story from here: (http://www.creepypasta.com/the-russian-sleep-experiment/)
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Thu Mar 19, 2015 9:45 pm

Oh my jesus I'm not reading that Russian Experiment thing because like every time I'm on youtube they recommend me to watch something like that and the thumbnail is the creepiest thing ever. Maybe tomorrow with a few more lights. It's even raining outside for creeps sake what am I doing even visiting this thread? Looks like some dark side of me doesn't want to sleep well tonight after all...

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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Thu Mar 19, 2015 9:47 pm

It looks like it has begun...
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Thu Mar 19, 2015 9:48 pm

So...nearly... free...
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PostSubject: Re: Creepypastas   Fri Apr 03, 2015 10:11 am

I stumbled upon this little thing...


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