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Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

I went to a party, Mom. I remembered what you said. You told me not to drink, Mom. So I drank soda instead.

I really felt proud inside, Mom. The way you said I would. I didn’t drink and drive, Mom. Even though the others said I should.

I know I did the right thing, Mom. I know you are always right. Now the party is finally ending, Mom. As everyone is driving out of sight.

As I got into my car, Mom. I knew I’d get home in one piece. Because of the way you raised me. So responsible and sweet.

I started to drive away, Mom. But as I pulled out into the road. The other car didn’t see me, Mom. And hit me like a load.

As I lay there on the pavement, Mom. I hear the policeman say. “The other guy is drunk,” Mom. And now I’m the one who will pay.

I’m lying here dying, Mom… I wish you’d get here soon. How could this happen to me, Mom? My life just burst like a balloon.

There is blood all around me, Mom. And most of it is mine. I hear the medic say, Mom, I’ll die in a short time.

I just wanted to tell you, Mom, I swear I didn’t drink. It was the others, Mom. The others didn’t think.

He was probably at the same party as I. The only difference is, he drank and I will die.

Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life. I’m feeling sharp pains now. Pains just like a knife.

The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, and I don’t think it’s fair. I’m lying here dying and all he can do is stare.

Tell my brother not to cry, Mom. Tell Daddy to be brave. And when I go to heaven, Mom, put “Daddy’s Girl” on my grave.

Someone should have told him, Mom, not to drink and drive. If only they had told him, Mom, I would still be alive.

My breath is getting shorter, Mom. I’m becoming very scared. Please don’t cry for me, Mom. When I needed you, you were always there.

I have one last question, Mom. Before I say goodbye.

I didn’t drink and drive. So why am I the one to die?



ID: 100156-03 Supp User: Jim_D
Call Date/Time: 08-16-201X Cust Acc: 212254674
Supervisor Notes: Customer account identified at intro – passed thru to support. FLSH case No. 83447
JIM: Hi. I’m Jim, your mobile phone support contact. This conversation may be recorded for training purposes. How can I help you today?

CUSTOMER: Hiya. Having some trouble with the speech recognition. It doesn’t seem to understand what I’m asking.

JIM: Okay. I just need to get a few additional details first before we go any further. Are the contact and billing details on your account up to date?


JIM: And I see here your contract began a month ago.

CUSTOMER: Yes. I connected to the 3G network last week and it flashed up something about a software upgrade and that’s when the problems started.

JIM: Thanks, but I just need to confirm a few more things before we can start trying to identify the issue and resolve it for you. Your mobile is a Samsung Galaxy S2 and you have 3G internet access, is that correct?

CUSTOMER: Yes. I mentioned the 3G already…

JIM: I just needed to confirm the facts before going any further. So, what appears to be the problem.

CUSTOMER: As I mentioned BEFORE, the speech recognition is playing up.

JIM: In what way, and with as much detail as possible please.

CUSTOMER: When I try to search using Google, it keeps mishearing what I’m saying and brings back what I don’t want.

JIM: Well Sir, no voice recognition software is 100% accurate. Have you tried speaking slower and/or louder, preferably somewhere with little or no background noise?

CUSTOMER: Why didn’t I think of that! I’m being sarcastic by the way.

JIM: I have to cover all the suggested options, even the obvious ones Sir. Could you give me an example?

CUSTOMER: Yeah, sorry. Yesterday I tried a search for ‘Restaurants near where I live’, and the results were local graveyards and mortuaries! I’m not planning on booking a table for one at a location like that for another 50 years or so.

JIM: Understandable. Anything else?

CUSTOMER: A couple of days before that I tried a search for some family pictures so I could change my background, and it returned, well, a whole lot of sick images I can tell you!

JIM: What do you mean by ‘sick’?

CUSTOMER: Dead bodies. Some mutilated. Lots of blood and gore. What looked like cannibalistic rituals or something. Really sick shit. What if my kids had been using the phone!?

JIM: Could you refrain from swearing please Sir.

CUSTOMER: Sorry. What about the pictures though?

JIM: You can put parental controls on what your phone can access on the internet, which I can take you through next if you have the time, but this sounds like something we may have to escalate if these pictures break certain decency criteria.


JIM: I believe you mentioned these problems only started occurring following a recent update to your phone?

CUSTOMER: Yeah. No idea what it was. The window just popped up and I clicked ‘Install Now’. Took about 5 minutes including the reboot.

JIM: Do you know what version of Android your phone is running?

CUSTOMER: What, you mean one of those funny food related names? Gingerbread, Ice Cream Sandwich. That kind of thing?

JIM: There are specific numeric versions, but the codename should do as a starting point.

CUSTOMER: OK. I wrote it down somewhere, hold on.



CUSTOMER: Back. It says ‘Android 2.2.3 Flesh’

JIM: So that’s version 2.2.3 Froyo, short for Frozen Yogurt by the way.

CUSTOMER: No, no…it definitely says ‘Flesh’ here.

JIM: …

JIM: Could you hold on whilst I speak to my supervisor please.

JIM: …

JIM: …

JIM: Sorry for the wait Sir. Having spoken to my supervisor and reviewed your firmware download history, there does appear to be a problem with your recent installation. Please open the Settings on your phone and select Software Update to download the most recent version. That should resolve all your problems.

CUSTOMER: OK. Thanks for that. I’ll give it a go.

JIM: Could you try it now Sir and let me know when it’s done.

CUSTOMER: I can’t right now but I’ll contact the support desk again if it doesn’t work. Thanks for the help.

JIM: Please try it now whilst you’re on the line Sir.

CUSTOMER: As I said, I can’t. I’m calling on the land line. My daughter’s using the mobile right now, talking to her sister. The credit ran out on hers. She might be a while – you know how these teenagers are…

JIM: Please ask your daughter to end the call NOW Sir. With your recent update there is a known issue in the firmware that can also affect both incoming and outgoing calls. Some users have complained of headaches, nausea, and other unexplained side effects.

CUSTOMER: What? I thought that scare about mobiles giving you brain tumours or whatever was just that…a scare?

JIM: I am neither confirming nor denying anything Sir, and our Terms and Conditions plus liabilities are available on our web site. However, due to a recent bypass of our firewalls, an unknown update to the Android operating system was released without our knowledge over our network. We claim no liability for this software upgrade and are investigating the breach in our security. In line with the requirements of your contract and for your own safety and that of your family, please upgrade your software NOW and refrain from using your mobile for any and all calls.

CUSTOMER: Is this a joke?

JIM: Sir, please take the mobile off your daughter and end any current calls. Our company will not accept responsibility for any harm that may come to your family following this warning.

CUSTOMER: You’ve got to be kidding me! Damn small-print assholes. Hold on….Lauren….finish talking to your sister Hannah and give me the phone. I said, give me the goddamn phone! What the…….shit, are your eyes bleeding honey!?

JIM: Exit the house now please Sir.

CUSTOMER: Lauren….wha…speak to me. Put the phone down and speak to me.

JIM: Lock all doors behind you and vacate the premises.

CUSTOMER: Just…just come over here and let me take a look at…at your eyes… There’s….there’s blood coming from your ear as well. Here, let me take the phone off you….

JIM: Please refrain from interacting with your daughter and exit the building now Sir.

CUSTOMER: [yelling]….Goddamn it Lauren, you bit me! What the hell is wrong with you! Back off now! I mean it. [screaming] Jesus! My fingers….my fucking fingers! No, no, no, no……stay….stay back. [sobbing] Lauren please…..

[sounds of physical struggle and furniture damage]

JIM: Sir? Sir?

[sounds of wet coughing and of a pet, possibly a large dog, feeding]

JIM: ……..If you can still hear me Sir, thank you for calling your mobile phone help support. A specialist contractor and clean up crew has been dispatched to your address to deal with your on-going issue. We are sorry for any inconvenience caused.

[call terminated]

Credits to: Charmingly Shallow

“Have you seen my son?” asked the frantic woman to the old lady across the street.

“No, sorry dear” the old woman replied.

“Have you seen my son?” the woman asked the local police officer, more terrified this time.

“No, I’m sorry mam, but we’ll search right away” the officer replied.

“Please…please tell me my son is in there” asked the woman to the mother of her son’s best friend.

“I’m really sorry Clarice, we haven’t seen him” the mother replied.

The woman searched everywhere, ran through every part of the street, screaming, “Where is my son”. She was crying, pulling her hair out of despair. Her neighbors, out of pity, helped her in her search.


Every day, from 10 in the morning till 8 in the evening, the woman would leave her house, looking like trash. She looked like a risen corpse; Pale skin, frizzy hair, and her skinnier body. She screamed at every part of the town, “HAVE YOU SEEN MY SON?”

Alas at the second week of her search, everyone must have thought that she’d already gone crazy.

She went to the local police department again…

“Have you seen my son?”

The officer in charge left out a deep sigh, “I’m sorry mam”

The mother walked home, looking depressed. But as soon as she closed her front door, a smile painted across her face.

With a smirk, the woman whispered to herself. “I guess I hid his body that well”

Credits to: badfakesmiles

I’ll first tell you what I do for a living, as it will bring some understanding to my situation. I run my own business, if you could call it that. I’ve thought of it more as a personal service. I break into the home or building of a client’s choice, destroy or steal whatever they want, provide proof of the action, then I get paid (quite substantially, if I may add). My clients usually take the form of a middle class man angered at their boss, or a recently dumped individual who wants revenge on their ex. Essentially, I do the work that one has the anger and desire to do, but doesn’t have the actual nerve to do it themselves. It paid well, and it gave me some interesting places to explore, so I’ve been quite content with the job.

About a few weeks ago, I received a usual call for what I expected to be a usual job.

The caller requested me to break into an abandoned home not too far from my area. He requested me to retrieve a few recordings of sorts. VHS tapes, cassettes, DVDs, they didn’t matter. All he really cared about was any that looked “interesting”, as he described. Despite the fact that information is important in my work, he didn’t tell me anything that would be useful for the search. He wouldn’t even tell me anything about himself, which almost made me turn the job down, until he offered me an unusually large payment.

When the caller had mentioned “abandoned home” I had expected the location to be shed away from the local population, and generally safe to break into during the day. To my frustrated surprise, the place was in the middle of the damn street, right along a string of other apartments and surrounding buildings, most of which were populated. People on the sidewalk strolled past it, not acknowledging its derelict state, sometimes being taken back by its derelict state.

I came back after dark, and it was just how I wanted it to be. No pedestrians anywhere, and there were no lights on in the surrounding structures. It appeared to be an easy target.

The home stood two stories, with a small attic at the highest point. I didn’t look like the most enjoyable place to live, even before it had aged. The best word I can think of to describe it’s living quality would probably be “confined.” It appeared to have only a single window, which was on the attic level. The front door (what I believed to be the only entrance) had an unnecessary amount of locks on it, all of which were now rusted away. It opened with a mere tap from my foot.

I should probably state here that though I don’t have nyctophobia or anything of the sort, I enjoy completely dark, abandoned buildings as much as the next wandering man. By my first step into the house, I wanted the job done fast. What I’m saying is that I was not paying attention to specific details at the time, of both the home and what may have been there.

When I had turned on my flashlight, the first room appeared entirely vacant of anything, as if it had been completely cleared after the departure of its residents. This was both good and bad, in my situation. This meant that the room was free of obstacles, but also meant that I would need to search more of the home, which I was wasn’t excited of. There were other homes around, but I would be fine if I at least kept the noise to a decent level. The place hardly had windows, after all.

I had gone up the stairs to find a similar area: an empty room, with nothing that I was looking for. This meant further worse news: I would have to check the attic. Though I said I wasn’t severely frightened by the dark, I would be lying if I said I didn’t have a discomfort with tight spaces.

The attic was accessed by a standard pull-down stairway on the ceiling of the second story room. It took a couple of jerks to budge, but it came down without much resistance. A large cloud of dust covered my view for a few seconds, which made me realize how old the place really was. Each step of the stairway creaked tremendously, to where it became more irritating than unnerving.

The last step brought me inside the attic, which showed the only window in the house. A bit of moonlight shined down into the small room, which helped ease my tension by a near insignificant amount. Scanning the room, I had finally caught eye of a few boxes in the corner.

Three aged cardboard boxes, all packed with a number of old VHS tapes. No DVDs, though the place was so old that I didn’t expect to find any. I was still in a rush to get out of there so I didn’t take much time looking through them. I didn’t even pick out a few, I just grabbed the heaviest box and dragged it to the ladder. I didn’t realize exactly how much was in the box until I had dropped it to the floor, in which it made a rather loud crash that seemed impossible for its size. Some of the tapes were probably broken in this process, but I didn’t stop to check. I just wanted to be out of there.

When I reached the bottom of the ladder, I didn’t bother putting it back up. This is where I first saw something strange. When picking the box back up, I saw a small red light in the corner of the room, like a sort of…dot. It wasn’t moving, but I still stormed to the stairs. I grew paranoid, so I didn’t care to investigate what it was.

I arrived at the top of the stairs, and I observed something else: that the house had another level, which I assumed to be a basement. There was another stairway leading downwards that could only be seen if one was actually looking down the stairs at the second level. At the bottom of this stairway was another faint, but noticeable red dot. I was carrying the heavy box of tapes, so I didn’t have a hand to shine my flashlight on it (or on the previous one).

Then I tripped. There’s no other way of saying it. I tripped and tumbled down the entire fucking stairway, all the way back down to the first floor. I should’ve broken a leg or my back in the process, but the box of tapes actually managed to break my fall in some sort of miraculous way. The VHS tapes scattered all across the bottom of the stairs, and I didn’t want to take the time to retrieve them all. I picked up the three tapes that were closest to me. My body hurt like hell, but I was more focused on the fact that I had just made noise similar to a damned police raid.

I made it back to my car, and then my home, without issue. I woke up the next morning with aches all over, but I hadn’t gotten caught, which was what I cared about.

I called my client numerous times, and just as I had almost predicted, he never answered. The number he gave me didn’t even have an answering machine, as if it had been disconnected.

I was quite sure that this client was going to be a no-show, which made me grow quite frustrated. Most of the time, I’m able to steal other items during a raid, so a client not giving payment was never a typical issue. However, there was hardly anything to even look at (let alone steal) in that abandoned home, so I was left empty handed after all the frightful work I had gone through.

All I was left with was the tapes, which I decided to look at, just in case the client actually called back asking what I obtained.

I was surprised to find that I even still had a VHS player in my closet. Because the tapes had no forms of labels on them, I just played the first one on the stack of three.

The first tape I played was just static for a few minutes. I was about to stop it when it actually did cut to a picture. There was a date on the lower left corner of the screen, which was August 2nd, 2010 (displayed as 8/2/10). It was footage of a small room, which was vacant of any furniture, and looked to be in degrading condition. The video appeared to be in a form of night vision, so the room must have been dark. It was lifeless footage until a door, close to the camera, opened.

A young woman walked through, and the door shut behind her as she walked in. She started yelling “Michael! Michael it’s me! Where are you?!” She turned around in circles, searching for someone. There was a frantic, worried look of expression on her face. I would assume that this “Michael” would be her son, or other close person she was looking for. She waved her arms around in the dark before taking her phone out as a source of light. She walked to the end of the room and took a left at what appeared to be a stairway. The footage went to static a few seconds later.

Now, I had an idea of where this footage may have been taken, but I refused to believe it at the moment of watching the tape. I didn’t want to watch another just for that reason. Though, for my own safety, I had to know if my paranoia was correct.

The next tape started similar to the last: Static for a few minutes, then it cut to the footage. It was footage of another empty room, which appeared to be in the same decaying state as the last. This footage also had a date and time, but it was March 14th, 2013, more than a year’s difference. Someone came in from the small hallway leading into the room. This time, it was an older man. He actually had a flashlight this time, and looked to the roof. He pulled down a staircase that lead to an attic.

This was where I flipped shit. Those red lights, those dots in the corners of the rooms, they were cameras, and they were rolling. The “abandoned” house was rigged with them, more than I probably even saw. I at first believed it must have been some sort of police set-up in which I immediately checked all of my windows to see if my home was surrounded. I thankfully found nothing.

I went back to the tape, and the recording showed the man climbing up the ladder into the attic. He too looked as if he was looking for something (or someone), but he never actually spoke. He also never shined his flashlight around the room, so I doubt he even noticed the camera. A few seconds after he was in the attic, the footage ended, but I did notice something: Just moments before the footage ended, the camera moved, as if was picked up just at the last few seconds.

I went immediately to the third and final tape, as I wanted to know what else may have been looking at me in that house. This tape was viewing the stairway. It appeared zoomed in, like it was down another level but still focusing on the first to second floor. At the top of the stairs was the same man from the previous tape (with the same date of 3/14/13). Since I had dropped the tapes down the stairs when I collected them, I must have been lucky to grab two continuing tapes.

The man in the footage appeared injured this time. He clutched his left arm, which revealed to have blood running from it when I looked closely enough. He stumbled with each step as he progressed down to the first floor. When he was just about at the bottom step, he fell, probably out of exhaustion.

At the top of the stairway stood…something. It looked to be a person, about six feet tal, but I’m not going to make any assumptions that it was human. It walked down to the man, and then began to drag him by his uninjured arm. The man put up little struggle, which led to him being kicked in the head by the being.

It moved the man down the second staircase, the one I believed led to a form of basement. The figure was close enough to the camera to where I could see its face, or at least what was covering it. It wore a mask, which looked to be an aged rag, with holes cut for each eye and numerous tears everywhere else. The skin exposed by the tears was a dark, bloodied gray, which lead to me being more content that its face was covered. The thing stared at the camera for a moment, with blurred, yellow eyes that made myself even more uncomfortable. It then picked up the camera, and turned it around to reveal a door at the bottom of the staircase.

The being picked the man up, opened the door, and kicked the man inside of another room which appeared to be empty. The door was quickly shut once the man went in, and then the camera just viewed the door for the next few minutes. What was disturbing here, however, was the sounds.

Behind the door, there were many rapid scratching noises, as if the walls were being scraped. The injured man inside the room began to scream, and so did other voices. The other screams sounded inhuman, more animal-like than the screams of a person. The injured man’s screams were quickly cut off after what sounded like the ripping of flesh and the snapping of ligaments. I thought at first that the man stopped screaming, but then I realized that all sound had then cut off from the footage.

The door to the room then opened, and inside the room were other creatures. They almost appeared human, but appeared very frail and gray, with no hairs on their heads or anywhere on their body. Their spines were painfully visible, and protruded from their bodies in an unnatural and excessive manner The ones near the end of the room began to climb up the walls and onto the ceiling. One of them began to turn around, but the footage ended and cut to static before its face could be revealed.

Naturally, I was terrified by this. I had just been inside that place, and I had been recorded in the same way.

I checked all my windows again, and locked them. I stayed indoors for a few days, keeping constant watch of if I was, well, being watched. I had burned the tapes, and when I was sure that I hadn’t left any sort of trail from my visit to that house, I had begun to go out again. I occasionally took another job, but none that involved abandoned homes or structure.

Not much more than two weeks ago, I had received a package on my front door. I assumed this to be a payment from a recent client, as most would pay me by simply dropping off their part.

I opened it to find three VHS tapes, which appeared to be in new condition. They were each marked with a number, going from one to three.

I played the tape marked with “1″ first. It was footage of the same abandoned house as before, and it was the camera in the first empty room. A few minutes past, and then somebody entered. It was a younger man, who wore dark clothing as if he wanted to keep hidden.

It took only second to realize that this man was me, and that the tapes were of when I entered the home.
I went straight to tape number two. The second tape was a recording of the staircase, with the camera planted near the door to the basement. It showed me stumbling out the hallway to the stairs, with the box of tapes in both hands. I took a few steps down, then I watched myself trip and fall.

Except I didn’t actually trip. I was pushed.

A figure at the top of the stairs, wearing the same rag on its head as in the previous tapes, had slightly shoved me. It wasn’t enough force to where I could’ve felt him behind me, but enough to where I had lost my balance with the box in my hands.

The footage showed me jump back up to my feet with three tapes in hand, and running off screen, which was when I ran out of the house. The masked being only ran to the bottom of the staircase, and watched me run. It then walked slowly down the second flight of stairs and looked into the camera for a few seconds, and then the footage ended.

I was in more fear than when I had watched the previous tapes, and my paranoia of being followed became more severe.

It took every fiber of courage in my body to keep watching, and I played the final third tape.

This tape wasn’t from inside the abandoned house. It was being held by someone, and it was taken from outside, at a different location. The camera holder walked on a road for a few minutes, until focusing the camera on a single house.

The house was my house, and whoever/whatever was filming let out a loud, sickening laugh, then the tape ended.

I’ve grown paranoid, and with good reason. I’m not huddled in the center of a room all day, but I don’t go out in public much anymore. Anytime I do, I feel like I see a masked figure out of the corner of my eye. Perhaps it’s just a fabrication of my mind, but I even sense it right next to me in some places.

There will be a few days where I hear a knock on my door, only to find a single tape on the doorstep. Each is very similar to the last. It’s always footage of my own home, usually during the day, but other times at night.
And with each tape, the camera is closer.

Credit To – Emeryy (Richard S.)

I heard a banging on my door this afternoon while I was watching the news about the unexpected small earthquake that just happened. When I looked out to check, I was completely dumbfounded to see my friend, Danny, standing outside my front door with mud stains all over his body. He stared at me with his smoky gray eyes and with the hoarsest voice, he said: ”I don’t wanna go back there, man.”

As soon as this happened, I dialed our closest friend, Irah. While it rang, Danny stood with no fear on my terrace which, I think, would alarm some of the bypassing people. Finally, Irah answered and told him that Danny snuck out of jail again. Irah hung up and after a few minutes, he was there with us.

As Danny told us the story of how he got out, somebody knocked on my door and claimed it was the police. Danny hid upstairs frantically, leaving muddy footprints on my well-carpeted floor and stairs before we opened the door.

”Good afternoon, officer.”, I politely said.

”We’re looking for Mr. Anderson.”

”I’m Mr. Anderson, why? What’s the matter?” I replied.

”It’s about your friend, Danny Braunstein.”

I felt a cold shiver in my spine. I’m guessing somebody told them he was seen standing in front of my house. If I was to summarize every screw-up I made in my entire life, hiding an escaped prisoner in my very own property might be the worst.

”What about—him, officer?” Irah asked.

”Danny died this morning after he tried to escape. Apparently, he thought digging a hole might be too convenient for him since it was raining but unfortunately, because of the minor earthquake, he just dug himself his own grave.”

I looked at Irah confusingly and thought about the muddy footprints he left on my floor and to my shock, my carpet was clean.

Credits to: faindyvargas

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