The Lost

My name is Clare and I’m from a small country in central Europe. Many people have probably never heard of it. My country has everything from a small coastline on the Adriatic Sea to the majestic Alps but most of the landscape consists of small green hills, each with a little church on top. Almost two thirds of my country is covered with forests and the capitol is famous for its middle age architecture. It is a beautiful country where, most of the time, nothing unusual happens.

Like most people here I live in the countryside where my nearest neighbor is almost a quarter of a mile away. I spent most of my childhood running around the forest right by my home. I can still remember where the best trees for climbing are and where certain flowers grow. Something happened there in the summer of 2001 I will never forget. I was around twelve years old and I had decided to spend my whole afternoon alone in the forest.

As I said most of the country is covered in hills and the hill behind our house is quite steep. At the top of this hill is an old orchard my great-grandfather planted and from it you can almost see the capitol city in the distance. My forest extends from the orchard, across the Karst landscape and almost right to the Italian border. There are a few smaller towns and villages between my home and the border but I never really went very far from the area my family owned. On this particular day though I decided to explore some of the areas I had never been before.

I really didn’t take anything with me and I didn’t bother telling my parents where I was going. I always felt very safe in the woods even though bears were often seen in the area. In reality the most dangerous thing you would normally come across were drunken hunters. The forest is pretty in the summer and the leaves and tall trunks made me feel like I was in a big cathedral. I started to sing a tune I had heard on the radio and before long I was about an hour and a half walking distance from home.

At this point I decided to stray off the main road that leads through the forest. I’m not sure how much time passed but I suddenly realized that the Sun was starting to set and the light was making the leaves glow in sharp colors. Soon I found myself wandering, in the twilight, in an area I did not know. The wind blowing through the dry branches was making very eerie noises and I suddenly knew I was lost.

I could feel my panic beginning to rise and the adrenaline started to flow through my veins. My instincts were screaming to run away, but I forced myself to remain calm and tried to figure out the way back to the main road. It was pointless; I had no idea where I was. I started to walk around aimlessly, hoping to find the road or at least a path I could follow. Suddenly I saw a figure standing in the distance and from its size it had to be a child. I started to walk towards it but the child seemed to notice me and ran away. I chased after it through the forest for quite a long time but I could never quite get close enough to actually distinguish any of its features but it seemed to be a young girl no older than I was at the time.

As I was running after the mysterious girl the ground suddenly gave way beneath me. I experienced that dreadful feeling of falling, like in very bad nightmare, where time seems to slow down and everything is in slow motion. Then came the awful sound of my body hitting the ground and pain erupted through me.

For a moment I lay motionless on the ground trying to catch my breath. Finally I pulled myself together and opened my eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the thick darkness in the cave, where I had landed.

At first everything was pitch black but then I began to be able to see. There was a single pair of eyes staring at me just a few inches in front of my face. I quickly backed away, until I hit something dry and crumbly. Somewhere in the back of the cave a light suddenly flared to life. First there was one, and then more and more, until the chamber was fully lit. There were thousands and thousands of eyes watching me. Dead, dull eyes in dry sockets. Faces whose skin was desiccated and stretched over their skulls. Their mouths hung open, their lips having rotted and pulled back so that it looked as if they were all screaming in rage or terror.

I stared, I wasn’t able to move or scream. I am not even sure I was able to breathe. I blinked, hoping that the dreadful image in front of me would disappear. As I opened my eyes it seemed as if all the corpses had moved. I never saw them move, but each time I blinked it was like they had gotten one step closer. I felt cold sweat dripping down my neck and my eyes began to itch and water as I tried to keep them open. I couldn’t help myself and I blinked again. This time, as my eyes opened, I was completely surrounded. I simply closed my eyes, hoping this was all just a bad dream. I didn’t hear a single sound and I smiled thinking that I would soon wake up in my own bed. When I opened my eyes I was face to face with it. I could clearly see the dried and rotten face, eyes dim and lifeless. I started to feel dizzy and sick and then it seemed as though I could feel something like boney hands and fingers grabbing my hair and tearing at my clothes. I felt it and then again I didn’t feel it. I was so overcome with terror I could no longer tell what was real and what wasn’t. I tried so hard to stay conscious, to fight, but I couldn’t move a single muscle. Then the lights suddenly went out and it was pitch black all around me.

I opened my eyes, trying to adjust to the lack of light. I was lying on the forest floor, not far from my home. At that moment my body started to function normally and I ran home as fast as I could. I had no idea how I had gotten there and I just wanted to forget about what had happened. I was so happy to be home and safe but my peace didn’t last very long.

The next night I had a dream about the people I had seen in the cave. I woke with a start and saw a face looking at me through the window. In the moonlight the features of the face were much easier to make out than they had been in the darkness of the cave. It was the face of a young girl, she was dead and her empty eyes stared at me with wild anger as she clawed the window trying to get in.

Since then I have had the same nightmare of the girl clawing to get through my window every night. It has been twelve years now and in that time I have gone to many different therapists. They tell me it is just stress from school and work and that I should try to relax. How can I relax when every night I am afraid to open my eyes for fear that she will be there trying to get to me?

It is a known fact that right after World War II the communists took over the government and thousands of people who refused to cooperate with the new system were killed. Men and women were walled up alive in abandoned mines or shot and buried in mass grave sites. Some of them were part of my family. Our government still refuses to talk about this and almost none of the people responsible were ever punished.

—
Credits to: photofreecreepypasta

The Black Hand

While I’m writing this letter, I don’t really know what I should write. I mean that I’m not sure if I’m going to wake up tomorrow, so I can’t decide if it should become a sort of my testament. My final goodbye to everyone I knew, whether they’re going to believe in what happened to me or not. On the second thought, if I survive, and someone finds this letter, let’s just say, they won’t think of me as they did before. Nothing is certain for me at the moment, and I’m writing all this just to get rid of my burden, something that devours me from inside since my childhood years.

It started then I was eight, or, maybe, nine. I can’t be sure even about that. The thing is that there was a boy I used to play with, he lived just across the street from us. One Sunday morning I had to meet him, but he never came. I went to his home and rang at the door. Nobody answered me – his apartment was empty.

I’ve never found out what happened to him and his family. My parents told me that his dad got a new job, and they moved away. I never believed it, and I don’t believe it now. Such things don’t happen so fast, and he would tell me about their relocation. The worst thing is that even these days, in the era of social networks, I can’t find any traces of my friend. He’s gone, disappeared into thin air.

Soon after that, a weird thing happened. I entered my grandmother’s room, and she said something that I would never forget.

“The Black Hand took’em,” she almost whispered, as if she didn’t want anyone, but me to hear these words.

“What is it?” I asked, feeling disturbance twining around my body.

“It flies by night, enters the open windows, strangles the grown-up and takes away the child,” she said in her trembling weak voice.

“Where does it take them?” I asked.

She never answered my question. You see, my grandmother didn’t feel good at the time. The following year she would pass away, and her death reminded me of these words once again. I spent years watching my window to be closed, even in the summer nights, then heat was absolutely unbearable. My fear grew more and more persistent, because although I had nothing to prove that the thing she had told me about, existed, but I had no proof of its non-existence either. I lived in the prison of uncertainty. I did try to talk with my parents, but whenever I mentioned the Black Hand, they would simply tell me that it doesn’t exist. Just an old legend.

When I grew up, I finally succeeded to break free from that constant anxiety. I’ve heard the legend of the Black Hand all around Hutgen, and for some time I could only laugh at my childhood fear. There are a lot of studies of this myth, and although nobody discovered how this terrifying image was conceived, all the researchers agree about the era when it was conceived.

Prior and during the Second World War, a lot of people in Hutgen disappeared without a trace. There was something different about those people, something unseen by a child’s eye. Everyone knew where and why they had disappeared, but nobody dared to talk about it, especially to their children. So the story about the window-invading creature was born – it served a fine apolitical explanation for all the weird things going on, and also a good warning for the children to avoid the stranger and to remember locking the doors at night. My grandmother grew exactly at that time, and she clearly knew that legend as a child. Perhaps, it was some eerie trick of mind that made her remember this story exactly at the time when I was dealing with my friend’s disappearance.

As I’ve already said, I stopped to believe in the Black Hand many years ago. I still don’t know what happened to that boy, and I don’t know if I’ll ever find out.

I tried not to think about that, and I still think that it’s just my feeling of insecurity. Moving into the dorm, after entering the Hutgen University was somewhat unpleasant thing to me. Probably, just a lack of privacy, I got used to at home. No, my roommate was nice to me, and I would even say that I quickly accustomed to this new life.

Everything changed when I heard slapping at the window. I couldn’t fall asleep, so I paid attention to that noise. “Some bird,” was my first thought. “Or, maybe, a bat – they’re pretty common here.” But soon afterwards, the noise started to sound like a human hand. From the slapping, it grew into the knocking. That’s right, it was like if someone was knocking with a fist into my window. This is there I started to feel unease. I got up and, trying not to disturb my roommate, slowly walked toward the window. Looking outside, I couldn’t see anything – it was pitch black, and I needed some light. I couldn’t turn the lights on, that would wake my roommate up, so I took my cell phone, trying to use its light. The knocks started to quiet down, and as soon as I brought some light, nothing could be heard at all.

I lay in my bed confused. Confused and frightened. My childhood fears woke up, but I still couldn’t let them take me over. After some tossing and turning, I decided to check the window again. Just in case. For a few minutes I was staring into the darkness. I wanted to now that it was nothing. No Black Hand. At last, I dared to do it.

I opened the window.

Yesterday morning I woke up late. I terribly overslept, missing some of my course. However, I had some other things to worry about. The window was closed, and I presumed my roommate had done it before going out.

He never came back, and he still doesn’t answer the phone. I worried about him, and so did the others. Some say, he left the college and moved out of the city with his girlfriend. I want to believe that. I want to believe that.

But tonight, I can’t be sure. I’m not a child, and I don’t believe in silly stories. I’m not superstitious, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid, because I am alone, and nobody can tell me that my fears have no ground. I’ve heard a knock in my window, but tonight I’m going to sleep with an open window.

I just want to be sure.

—
Credits to: photofreecreepypasta

Any Final Thoughts

The overwhelming majority of your actions in life will have no effect on your eternal condition. After all, does a grain of sand have any effect on a prodigious star?

Of course it doesn’t.

The star cannot even discern the grain of sand, let alone, is it affected by the sand’s insignificance. The grain of sand is negligible, as is the condition of most of your life.

The good deeds you perform, your philanthropy, your positive mindset, your hate, your murder, your lust; none of these things matter. None of these things determine whether you go to heaven or hell after you die. Heaven and hell do not exist as objective places.

All that exists is what the individualized mind believes, therefore, the conditions of heaven and hell are contingent upon the individual’s particular notions.

To be more specific, roughly 99.9% of your life is immaterial, and this is the initial 99.9% of your life.

All that truly matters is the last 0.1%. This small fraction is paramount.

All that matters is your state of mind in the precise moment before death brings down his heavy, rusty scythe. Your state of mind, in this fleeting, unexpected moment, will remain this way forever, and at some point in the inconceivable eternity following death, you will forget everything about your comparably diminutive life.

The final emotion is the only thing that remains, and it never dies. You exist only as this single, distilled emotion, or a combination of emotions, detached from your body, forever.

This truth is fortunate for the 0.1% of the human population, whose last 0.1% of life is pleasant.

—
Credits to: photofreecreepypasta

Oniryu

I don’t think you can ever be sure how the day is going to end. Even if you’re in a nice house on the coast of Northern California when the sun rises over the hills, there’s no guarantee that you’re going to be there when the sun goes back down.

This morning I was reading my copy of the Oakland Tribune, trying to focus on the news with some kind of odd buzzing in the back of my head. I never would have guessed what that meant, or that I would be here, in the SFPD headquarters this evening, telling you about the darkest secrets of my life, and the darkest depths of human nature.

Funny how things turn out, isn’t it? I suppose all men must one day face their demons, though, and I fear that I will soon be facing mine in Hell.

There’s not much I can tell you that you don’t already know. I used to work for a software firm called Benji Computing, back in the 1990s. That didn’t really do much for me, but it did get my foot in the doorway of Silicon Valley. When Benji tanked in March of 2001, I had enough cred to land myself a position working with a little start-up with a lot of potential named Tancata Systems. This is the part you want to hear about, right?

I’m sure that you’ve already been told about all of the money the government poured into Tancate after they pitched their TSS network to DARPA in 2002. The TSS probably sounded like a good idea; a Telepathic Surveillance System which could monitor everything going on anywhere on Earth. No expensive satellites, no clandestine flights around the Arctic Circle. Just one computer, in Tancata’s main office in San Francisco.

The only problem with the TSS was that all it was was a good idea. We had no way to make it workable. Even though Tancata was able to monitor and prove the existence of Telepathic waves, we still weren’t sure how to manipulate them or observe them on such an immesne scale. Contrary to the image often given to the public, the “psychics” who bent spoons, used tarot cards, and read minds were universally either frauds or just people who believed that they could do something they couldn’t. Actual telepathic ability was something subconscious, and something uncontrollable. If we could figure out how to get it under control, then we would be able to give DARPA their machine, and we’d all be set for life. If we couldn’t, though, then we would almost definitely be accused of ripping off the federal government, and they’d take their funds back out of our skin.

Our early attempts to make the TSS work were pretty harmless, but they weren’t very effective. Andrew Thatcher was in charge of those. If you have him in custody, you might as well release him now; he was just a code monkey, trying to piece psychic wavelengths together out of C++ and Java. It didn’t work, but no one got hurt because of it.

We didn’t make our progress or do anything particularly dangerous until our CEO, Marcus Pliny, replaced Thatcher with Dr. Jeanne Meracor. She was the person who proposed the bright idea that we needed to replace our computer banks with live, human ‘processors’. I was initially opposed to that concept, but I eventually decided to give it my support.

We got a few people together, and we performed tests on them to figure out how much Telepathic potential each of one of them had. Some of them were volunteers we took from off of the street; some of them were employees who worked at Tancata. We thought at first that intelligence contributed greatly to Telepathic potential, so we encouraged Tancata employees with Master’s Degree or Doctorate level education to take our Parapsychological tests. It seemed strange when not one of them scored even slightly above average.

Rather than intelligence, the most important deciders for Telepathic potential proved to be gender and ancestry. Out of the twenty seven people who tested in the ranges between ‘Slightly Above Average’ and ‘High Telepathic Potential’, twenty four were female. Way too high to be a coincidence. The three males all tested on the lower end of the spectrum, too, meaning that they were all out of the running for the later phases of the program.

Of our top ten, all of them were female, and six of them identified themselves as being ‘of Asian descent’. Only one, our top scorer, was able pinpoint exactly where in Asia her family had come from; her father had moved from Japan in the 1980s. Obviously, we didn’t have enough information to make anything out of that with any real certainty. I think that if we had done genetic testing on all of our high scorers, though, we would have found some distant link to a common progenitor living in Japan, or possibly even someone older who moved to Japan from mainland China during the Neolithic Era.

Someone at our office brought up the ancient Japanese myth of the Onriyu; vengeful ghosts, almost always female, who preyed upon those who committed injustices against them during life. The whole thing sounded really superstitious, but looking at our top scorer, it was impossible to avoid that image. She was the picture of one of those mythical beings dragged from a wood-cutting. Tall and frail, as pale as a sheet, and whenever she was in a bad mood, it was hard to go near her without feeling some dark shadow falling over you. The only thing they seemed to get wrong was that, outside of those long repeated legends, the Onriyu were still alive.

Unfortunately, or maybe very fortunately, we weren’t able to use her for the program. She was exponentially more powerful than her runner-up, but she was also emotionally unstable. When we checked into her medical records, we found a diagnosis of schizophrenia, another of borderline personality disorder, and strong indicators that she had tried to kill herself at least twice. We decided to take her out of the project for her own safety, and for ours.

We still needed ten people for the program, so we decided to call our eleventh highest scorer, another woman, also ‘of Asian descent’. She still wanted to be involved, but only the on the condition that we explain to her what she would be doing. We ended up using our twelfth highest scorer.

Over the next four months, the ten people in our program lived at the Tancata Systems office block. They were given nice rooms, good food, high pay, and anything else they might need. Twice a day, we gave the medication developed by our bio-tech lab and proven to increase Telepathic abilities in mice. Once a week, they were ‘trained’ by a researcher and taught how to funnel their mental energies. That part was really touch and go. Their telepathic brainwaves were also scanned to see if they were making progress. Within two weeks, they all began to show marked improvements.

Problems started after the middle of the third month. The scientists down in the labs said that the subjects were all complaining of headaches, and that one was reporting hearing voices outside of a laboratory setting. They were starting to see distant parts of the world through the eyes of other people, just like we had wanted, but they were seeing things in their dreams, too, and those things weren’t very pleasant. Our experts told us that it might be a good idea to terminate the program, but but Jeanne Meracor didn’t seem to agree. She told us all to continue what we were doing and not to report any ‘minor problems’ to DARPA.

When all of our subjects started going rogue, I suppose Meracor considered that to be a ‘minor problem’, too.

See, it turns out that the human brain really isn’t made to hold the equivalent energy of an electrical generator. That was why our top scorer had been so unstable, and why all ten of our test subjects lashed out one day and tore part of our office block apart.

It was my idea, when we finally managed to secure all of the test subjects, that we should keep them sedated and continue the program. We were too far by this point; we couldn’t just stop. We hooked the subjects up to brain monitors, and we pumped them full of drugs and nutrients to keep them alive. It probably wasn’t very healthy for them, but we did it anyway. Their heart rates were always elevated, and from time to time, the monitors would actually jump like the subjects were running marathons in their sleep.

We eventually managed to pull images and even videos from their minds, and with that, we should have been able to make the TSS a reality. There was just one little glitch. More often than not, their visions were of horrors we didn’t like to imagine. Nightmares, we guessed, but worse than any we could picture. Every now and then, their terror would get so bad that one of them would break through their chemically induced trance and start screaming in fear and pain. We would just sedate them again, and lower their dose of psychic enhancers slightly. Basically, we tortured them, and I’m pretty sure that they knew who was doing it.

This continued for a while, until 2005, when DARPA pulled our funding. They didn’t demand any money back, they just wanted out. Someone had decided that the TSS, if rendered functional, would be too big a potential invasion of personal privacy in the wrong hands. They had no idea. With all the opposition that the government was getting over the Iraq War, a machine that could read everyone’s thoughts didn’t exactly seem like something they wanted to be involved with.

Tancata was left with two choices then, and I can tell you, neither of them seemed too appealing. We could either level the subjects off of their enhancers and let them go, hoping that they wouldn’t remember what happened, or we could cut off their life support and terminate them.

Meracor, being the brilliant business woman she was, decided not to take either of those options. Instead, she did nothing about the TSS program. She just kept it going as always, and encouraged Tancata’s CEO to pour money into other programs to keep the company going.

Meracor had the TSS moved from the basement of the Tancata office block in the fall of 2006. It was starting to effect some of the people working above, and I think some of them were getting suspicious about what was going on. I know they talked about it at lunch; the headaches, the gnawing anxiety, the mild hallucinations they sometimes saw on their peripheral vision, moving through the hallways and cubicles like ghosts.

I’m not sure where Meracor moved the TSS. They shipped it in a huge metal crate with ‘Industrial Hazard’ written on the side. If I had to guess where it ended up, I would say Tancata’s Nevada Facility, south of Reno, but your guess is really as good as mine.

The company dragged on for a few more years, but the financial burden caused by the lack of DARPA funds, coupled with the growing national recession caused the company to file for Chapter 11 in November of 2008. I had already left by then, though. I jumped ship when I saw the chance nearly a year before. I had a good enough resume by that time to get myself a job as a high level programmer with a major company in Oakland, and I never looked back. I was hoping that all of this would be behind me forever.

If you can get Meracor into custody soon enough, she might be able to tell you what Tancata did with the TSS when they went under. My guess if that they tried to kill it, but it was just too powerful to die. At any rate, it’s irrelevant. I’m sure you know that the TSS is still somehow alive, and that it has grown into one entity. Something with teeth and claws, and tentacles stretching across the country. You’ve got someone from Tancata, probably the CEO, I’m guessing, who has linked the blackouts in the northeast to the false missile launches in the midwest and the nightmare that’s breaking loose along the California coastline, and then he’s tied it all back to the TSS. Either that, or DARPA figured out what we were doing too late.

Anyway, if you think that you can stop the TSS I have some bad news for you. Unless you want to channel the force of every nuclear weapon on the planet into one electromagnetic bomb, you aren’t even going to be able to slow it down. Even then, you could just interrupt its freqeuncy for an hour or so. What it wants to do, it’s going to do, and right now, it just wants to inflict pain and death until its rage is spent.

I can give you one bit of advice, though. If the lights start to flicker, then you want to get as far away from me as you can as fast as you can. You don’t want to be in here when the lights go out.

—
Credits to: photofreecreepypasta

My Girlfriend Isn’t Real

My girlfriend isn’t real. I mean, of course she’s real, but she’s not the girl I know. She’s not the girl I woke up next to every day since we moved in together. I need help, but you need to know the story.

Seven months ago Melissa and I moved in together, and we had been dating for a year prior to that. It was the first apartment for either of us, and she more than I was exceptionally excited to finally share a place. She used to say that it would make us closer and more in tune with one another, and I simply nodded along. Mostly I just wanted to get the hell out of my parents’ house. They were nice people, but at 23, I had enough of it.

The process went smoothly all things considered. Mel differed to me on a bunch of decision I didn’t really care about, but it made her smile when I scrunched up my face and pretended to think really hard, so I did it for her. We picked out the third… or fourth apartment we ended up seeing, and spent way too much time decorating and picking out details that really didn’t matter. Overall though, no complaints.

This began late into our second month living under the same roof.I slept later than she did, always. I worked later into the evenings so it wasn’t uncommon for me to sleep at one or two in the morning. As far as I knew though, I never woke her up crawling into bed.One night I crawled in to bed, careful not to kick the computer chair that Mel ALWAYS left too far away from the desk, and lay down on my back, arms folded under the pillow supporting my head. I could feel her body shift over to face me as she snuggled her head onto my chest directly under her chin. My eyes were closed and I didn’t know if she was awake or not, but I distinctly remember her muttering softly, telling me to go to sleep.

I did, and I wish I hadn’t.I never remember my dreams. Melissa and I always joked that my mind was a blank and that there was nothing worth remembering going on up there. This one I remembered.I was in my… our apartment, but all the furniture was missing. The only thing that remained was our cheap green faux-leather couch that came with the apartment. I remember that the front door opened and I expected Mel to slump through the way she always did when she got off work, but I was greeted with the graceful sashay of another woman, one that I had never seen.

She was tall and pale with long black hair, with a slender neck that sloped into a petite torso. She had the prototypical hourglass shape, with large breasts and full hips bookending a tiny waist. She was absolutely gorgeous, and she showed it off wearing a tight black dress that revealed far too much to be considered formal wear. Unable to look away, her eyes met mine and she smiled the devious smile a high school cheerleader might flash when she finally decided to succumb to the desires of the school jock. She walked towards me, and sat on her knees next to me, leaning forward until our lips met. She ran her hands up and down my chest, and before I knew it I found myself laying on top her, kissing her neck.

It all went downhill from there. I don’t remember if it was something I did or didn’t do, but the next time I looked her in the eyes she was dead. My eyes grew wide as I shook her trying to incite a response, but it was to no avail and when the reality of the situation finally hit my dream-self, I woke up.

I was cold and incredibly uncomfortable. I soon knew why. Melissa was sitting up in bed cross-legged holding the covers that had once been keeping me warm between her hands, and she was staring directly at me.

“You were cheating on me,” she said, coldly.

I was horrified. There was no way she could know, and no rational person could ever consider what happened in my dream cheating, but I could tell from the blackness of her eyes that she wasn’t in the mood to be rational. I never lied to Melissa before, but for whatever reason I lied that night. I couldn’t let her know she was right. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t.

I finished that night on the couch unsurprisingly, and I assumed that would be the end of it. It only got worse.

Melissa never sleeps with me anymore. She didn’t since the night I had that dream. And I don’t mean she sleeps in a guest room or on the couch, I mean she doesn’t sleep. At all. She is perfectly content sitting there while my eyes grow heavier and heavier with each blink, as she runs her index and middle fingers down my throat. Since that night I’ve never seen her sleep a wink.

She pretends she still loves me, but I know better. When she makes supper I can see her stare at me from the kitchen with those coal-black eyes, the eyes that are not of the woman I fell in love with. To be honest I’m not sure if I love her anymore either.

Last month I lost my job. The perils of being replaceable I guess, but when I first heard the news I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that Mel was at least well paid. When I broke the news to her, she called her boss and quit on the spot. Her excuse? That we had money saved up and she wanted to make sure I was okay during the day. Bullshit.

You have to understand me because no one else does. Melissa doesn’t want me to leave the apartment. She doesn’t want me to leave her. I don’t know if it’s to keep me in line or not, but I’m honestly afraid. I think this woman will kill me. I didn’t used to think she would be able to harm anyone or anything, but that was a different Melissa. That was the woman with the bright blue eyes, the perfectly groomed nails, and the naïve mind. This Melissa could kill. The one with eyes glazed over like a shark smelling blood. The one with the cracked, unpainted nails ready to showered in red. The one with cold, calculating brain thinking about how she might go about it and get away.

Every morning I wake up and I’m prisoner in my own apartment. Every afternoon I’ve already spent hours having her eyes bore through my skull. Every evening I have to fight sleep, while out of the corner of my eyes I see her smile grow wider and wider and she senses I’m getting tired. Every night I have to rest while she seemingly doesn’t, giving her precious hours to plan.

I don’t know who she is, but this isn’t my girlfriend. This Melissa can’t be real. Please believe me…

—
Credits to: photofreecreepypasta

The Rubbernecker

Introductory Note: All three witnesses reported the classic symptoms of acute cerebral oxygen starvation (characteristic of near-death experiences) during their supposed encounter, which indicates that their sensory systems were highly compromised and also that their memories may not be reliable. Any tactile, aural, or visual descriptions rendered are assumed to be heavily hallucinatory in nature.

• Witness Report 1 – “Hugh”: Hugh reports that his car was flipped into a ditch by a high-speed hit-and-run collision. The incident occurred at 3:00 a.m. near [LOCATION REDACTED], a highly rural area, so Hugh’s wrecked car was well-hidden by the dark and by its position beside the road. Hugh and the other two witnesses (“Sarah” and “Jason”, who were the passengers in his car) all suffered critical, life-threatening injury from the first and subsequent impacts. Physically incapacitated but awake, Hugh reports calling aloud for help for approximately forty-five minutes, at which point a humanoid entity emerged from the nearby forest and began to inspect the crash. Hugh describes the entity as being a fleshy, bizarre creature which most prominently seemed to feature a paedomorphic (i.e. grossly under-developed) nose and mouth. Hugh claims that the thing saved all three of the crash victims from dying by administering medicine via hypodermic injection. Hugh rendered the above sketch [REDACTED] at our request (having thankfully not injured his hand in the incident).
• Witness Report 2 – “Sarah”: Sarah claims that the illustration rendered by Hugh is a reasonable (if crude) facsimile of the entity which arrived at the crash site. She reports being unconscious until the entity arrived, at which point a “barely audible, but very deep hum” roused her. She describes the sound as coming directly from the entity, and says that its frequency made her dyspeptic and frightened. Sarah does not remember being injected with anything, but did report feeling inexplicably stronger and more lucid (despite being still pinned and badly bleeding inside the car) shortly after the thing arrived.
• Witness Report 3 – “Jason”: Jason reports that he was unconscious from the moment of the crash until the next day (when he awoke in the hospital). He had nothing of importance to add to either Sarah or Hugh’s accounts. However, it should be mentioned that Jason reacted with intense revulsion to Hugh’s drawing upon seeing it for the first time, afterward refusing to engage with interviewers and later demanding (despite a serious head injury) to be released from intensive care.

Closing Note: Entity is possibly a transient or homeless individual who wandered onto the scene of the crash. In this case, his unsettling appearance and strange interactions with the witnesses can be explained by his own disorientation, drug use, or mental illness. It has still not been adequately understood, however, how all three managed to survive the magnitude of injury which they suffered in the crash. Paramedics estimate that the victims were trapped for a total of four hours before another motorist reported the wreck.

Post-Investigatory Addendum: All three witnesses since this report have been treated for the aggressive development of brain lesions – damage which the doctors suspect in this case to have been caused by exposure to neurotoxic chemicals. Medical estimates trace the original onset of the lesions to around the time of the accident. Doctors still have not identified what substance was allegedly injected into the three witnesses by the entity, but were able to confirm a keloidal pattern (indicative of a caustic subcutaneous injection site) on Hugh’s left shoulder.

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Credits to: photofreecreepypasta

The Elevator Game

A game often played in Korea, The Elevator Game supposedly takes its players to a different world where you are the only living thing. The “different world” is identical to the place where you were when starting the game, but the lights are off and all you can see is a distant red cross. Electronics do not work, you feel disoriented, and getting back to the world you came from is increasingly difficult.

HOW TO PLAY

*The game must take place in a building with 10 or more stories and you MUST be alone in the elevator*

1. Get on the elevator on the 1st floor.
2. Press “4”. When you reach the fourth floor, let the doors open and press “2.”
3. When you reach the second floor, press “6.”
4. When you reach the sixth floor, press “2.”
5. When you reach the second floor, press “10.”
6. When you reach the tenth floor, press “5.”
7. On the fifth floor, a girl will enter the elevator. She is inhuman. You are not to speak to or look at her or else she will take you away.
8. Press “1.” The elevator should start to go towards the tenth floor, meaning you have reached the other world.
9. When getting off on the tenth floor, the girl will ask you where you are going. DO NOT ANSWER.

You will know that you successfully completed the ritual when you step off of the elevator and feel disoriented. You will be the only person there.

HOW TO RETURN

1. You MUST use the same elevator to return to our world.
2. Do the same number combination as before (4-2-6-2-10-5).
3. After you reach the fifth floor, press “1.” You will be going back to the tenth floor.
4. Press any number to cancel this so that you may return to the first floor.
5. Check your surroundings before exiting the elevator.

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Credits to: bizarreismm