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Link Posted: 10/19/2013 3:59:03 AM EDT
[Last Edit: 10/19/2013 3:59:50 AM EDT by Nameless_Hobo]
If you guys like listening to stuff, look up Coast to Coast AM's shows about Black Eyed Kids. Really creepy stuff, and they are all available on Youtube.  The Shadow People episode is good, too.
Link Posted: 10/19/2013 4:37:53 AM EDT
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Originally Posted By Captain_Morgan:
Yeah, there's no way I wouldn't have mag dumped into that thing. Fuck all y'all caught in the cross fire.
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A note from personal experience; make sure you and all your buddies are on the same page about the whole "get down so I can light something up" topic, or you will find yourself with a bunch of confused people that are in the way.
Link Posted: 10/19/2013 1:48:43 PM EDT

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Originally Posted By Nameless_Hobo:


If you guys like listening to stuff, look up Coast to Coast AM's shows about Black Eyed Kids. Really creepy stuff, and they are all available on Youtube.  The Shadow People episode is good, too.
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I don't know why, but the Black Eyed Kids just reminded me of something when I was at Target once.







A buddy and myself were walking through and there is a red-headed kid in the toy section, he turns to look at us and his eyes were black, I shit you not. I thought I was nuts, but when we got back to the car, my buddy asked if I saw it.
Link Posted: 10/19/2013 2:17:35 PM EDT


Goatman or..
Goatboy?
Link Posted: 10/19/2013 2:50:00 PM EDT
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Originally Posted By ClassicLugeMick:

  I don't know why, but the Black Eyed Kids just reminded me of something when I was at Target once.


A buddy and myself were walking through and there is a red-headed kid in the toy section, he turns to look at us and his eyes were black, I shit you not. I thought I was nuts, but when we got back to the car, my buddy asked if I saw it.
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Originally Posted By ClassicLugeMick:
Originally Posted By Nameless_Hobo:
If you guys like listening to stuff, look up Coast to Coast AM's shows about Black Eyed Kids. Really creepy stuff, and they are all available on Youtube.  The Shadow People episode is good, too.

  I don't know why, but the Black Eyed Kids just reminded me of something when I was at Target once.


A buddy and myself were walking through and there is a red-headed kid in the toy section, he turns to look at us and his eyes were black, I shit you not. I thought I was nuts, but when we got back to the car, my buddy asked if I saw it.


Beating is the only way to discipline a ginger.








Sorry, that was horrible
Link Posted: 10/19/2013 3:17:06 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 10/19/2013 3:18:58 PM EDT by The_Texan_Ninja]
I have two stories to post. They’re not nearly as creepy as some, but they still belong in here. I am not the best storyteller, so please bear with me.

1.) When I was 7 my family moved into a new house in the south Florida woods (near Clewiston, if anyone knows where that it). One night about a month afterwards, I suddenly woke up, looked over at the doorway to my room, and saw a woman standing there. At first I thought it was my mother, but then after a couple seconds of looking at her, I noticed that she had no solid form and was almost “vapid” for lack of a better term. She also had these black eyes, not black as in the color, but black as in the lack of light almost like a void. She stood there looking into the room for about 10 seconds and then turned to walk down the dead-end hallway towards the window. I never saw her again.

Note: I did not feel a sense of dread, I had the same feeling of comfort that I had when I would look at my mother. This was not sleep paralysis, I have experienced it before and this was definitely not the same.. To this day I have never told anyone about it.


2.) My Uncle once told me a story from when he was in college. Back then, he lived in a one bedroom apartment by himself for a semester or two. One night as he was laying in his bed reading he felt a chill go into his room, a couple of seconds later a large imprint formed in the bed next to him as if somebody had sat down. This obviously scared the living hell out of him, so he ran out to his friends apartment next door and spent the night there. The next day he called the owner to tell them what had happened. The owner told him that a very kind and gentle old man named Walter who lived alone had died in that apartment several months ago. For the remainder of his stay there (he was flat broke and couldn’t afford another place), he said that sometimes lights would randomly turn on or a door would open and then close in the apartment. He would always say “Hello Mr. Walter” or “Please cut it out, I’m trying to sleep” and whatever was happening would stop, as if the spirit simply wanted to be acknowledged. My uncle is a dead-serious man who does not tell jokes (or really smile much for that matter) and so I have no reason to doubt his story.
Link Posted: 10/19/2013 6:11:37 PM EDT

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Originally Posted By ClassicLugeMick:

 
I don't know why, but the Black Eyed Kids just reminded me of something when I was at Target once.
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A buddy and myself were walking through and there is a red-headed kid in the toy section, he turns to look at us and his eyes were black, I shit you not. I thought I was nuts, but when we got back to the car, my buddy asked if I saw it.
Honestly if I had a ginger for a kid. I would make him wear black contacts and stare at people to freak em out.

 
Link Posted: 10/19/2013 7:45:43 PM EDT

Something from /x/ I thought was pretty good.
Link Posted: 10/20/2013 1:03:30 AM EDT
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Originally Posted By ClassicLugeMick:

  I don't know why, but the Black Eyed Kids just reminded me of something when I was at Target once.


A buddy and myself were walking through and there is a red-headed kid in the toy section, he turns to look at us and his eyes were black, I shit you not. I thought I was nuts, but when we got back to the car, my buddy asked if I saw it.
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Originally Posted By ClassicLugeMick:
Originally Posted By Nameless_Hobo:
If you guys like listening to stuff, look up Coast to Coast AM's shows about Black Eyed Kids. Really creepy stuff, and they are all available on Youtube.  The Shadow People episode is good, too.

  I don't know why, but the Black Eyed Kids just reminded me of something when I was at Target once.


A buddy and myself were walking through and there is a red-headed kid in the toy section, he turns to look at us and his eyes were black, I shit you not. I thought I was nuts, but when we got back to the car, my buddy asked if I saw it.


The eyes are the window to the soul. As gingers have no soul you simply saw the black and empty void.
Link Posted: 10/20/2013 1:18:30 AM EDT
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Originally Posted By NY_Shooter:


Yeah, fuck that.  I wouldnt be able to lay still with so much shit in my pants.



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Originally Posted By NY_Shooter:
Originally Posted By soldierman79:
Originally Posted By SkeeterTZX:
Originally Posted By NY_Shooter:
Ok, just finished th goat man story above (didnt watch the video yet, will when I get home, wanna hear what that thing sounded like).

Fuck.  That.  Shit.

Im so glad I sleep during the day when its light out.



Posted Via AR15.Com Mobile

no shit.


Worst part (for me) was when he was watching the door, almost asleep. The goat/man morph thing snuck in and it layed on the floor, then standing there all jittering and heaving, then would lay back down among them. He pretended to sleep just to watch it.

Fucking fuck me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!1!!!!


Yeah, fuck that.  I wouldnt be able to lay still with so much shit in my pants.



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I would have tackled it and gave it surprise butt sex. Whats it going to do, call the cops?
Link Posted: 10/20/2013 2:15:27 AM EDT
Here's a lengthy read but a good bit of copypasta.



Okay, or whatever creepy board this makes its way onto – I put it here because I thought it'd get to the most people to whom it was relevant.
If you are one of those people who are inherently drawn to horror, you're in real danger. I don't know what it is exactly – I don't pretend to know everything that's going on, and in fact, myself, I used to be drawn to the more realistic, non-supernatural creepypastas. But... well, let me explain.

About a year ago, I was up at three in the morning – you know, that part of the night where you're so deep into it it feels like it will never end.

Anyway I was up, clicking around, looking for a good creepypasta I hadn't read before, really getting myself freaked out. You know the feeling, I'm sure. You LIKE the feeling. That's the problem. Anyway, I'm reading, and I hear a pattering sound coming from the kitchen.

I had a cat, so I just assumed it was her. But then I glance on my bed, and my cat is there. Now I've been freaking myself out for a while here, so I was nearly trembling with fear as I opened my bedroom door. I live alone, in a single bedroom apartment, with just a bedroom, a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. My bedroom door opens up onto the kitchen. It was pitch black, the moonlight gleaming off the linoleum.

I strained my ears and listened. Heard nothing.I admonished myself for being such a fucking pussy. It was just random house noises, right? Or maybe a fucking mouse in the walls. I was about to turn around and head back into my room when I heard it again.And I saw something scatter across the linoleum in the kitchen, heading for the bathroom.It was small, but it was definitely not a rat.

The limbs were way, way too long. The torso was far too high off the ground. And the way it moved... It moved quickly, but so awkwardly. In any other circumstance, I might have laughed at it. As it was I was scared shitless. So, you know, I basically freeze for I like ten minutes. It was the size of the thing that convinced me to move. No matter how weird, or fucked up it was, it was so much smaller than me. It couldn't have been that dangerous, right?

So I grab the broom I have leaning against the wall of the kitchen, flip on the lights, and head back toward the bathroom.

I find that with the lights on, I'm barely scared at all, you know? More intrigued. I mean, what the fuck could that thing have been? So I pop open the bathroom door. Before I turn on the light, I do a quick scan.

Nothing. I flick the switch. I look around. Still nothing. I look on the ceiling, even. I throw the shower curtain open. Nothing still.What could it have been? My mind started inventing explanations. It definitely had four limbs... Maybe it was a big ass spider who had lost four of its legs somehow?

That could explain the awkward moment. It was good enough for me. I was about to go back to bed when I thought, on a whim, to use my broom to poke behind the toilet, between the wall and the base of the seat. When I did, I hit something solid, and it scurried out. It looked like a tiny human.

It was pale white, pale as a maggot, with dirty gray streaks running along its skin. It moved on all fours, with long, thin fingers that grasped the ground. Its skull was completely bald, and it had no eyes, and the skin looked like it had been torn away from the lower half of its face, leaving the exposed teeth and gums.

It looked up at me... Well, pointed its face in my general direction, anyway, and then scurried, quick as fuck, up the side of the bath and down into the drain. It moved in quick bursts, like a spider, and climbed straight up smooth surfaces like one too. After it disappeared down the drain, I just stood there, frozen, broom handle still in my hand, for a good five minutes.

I was scared shitless. I slowly backed out of the bathroom, and closed the door, and then stuffed a blanket in the crack between the floor and the door, fearing that it might come out.

Then I sat in my bed and wondered what I could do. I mean, it wasn't like I could call the police. Or even tell any of my friends.

It's not I like they'd believe me. So what did I do? I made a thread on /x/. This was quite a while ago, almost a year. You might even remember it. It wasn't anything special, and it didn't even get that many responses before falling off the boards. I guess people thought I was just joking, which really I would have thought the same thing – my thread, in retrospect, sounds exactly I like the type of threads I hate. But besides from all the 'OP is a fag' and 'SAGE' responses, there was one other one.

"I've seen them too man email me." along with an email address that I'm not going to give out here.

So I email this kid, right? Right away he responds and we start up a conversation in IRC. He introduces himself as Jon, and basically tells me a very similar story – one night a few months ago, reading creepypasta, heard a noise, got up, saw the small pale man. His was a bit bigger – he said it was the size of a cat – but he also told me one other thing. That I'd be seeing more of them. He said that ever since he saw the first one, he's been seeing more and more of them – out everywhere, even in the street, during the day.

They were everywhere, he said, and once you noticed the first one, it got a lot easier to see all the other ones. He had no idea what they were, and he hadn't figured out their behavior yet. He said that usually when he saw them or heard them in his own home, he was reading creepypasta, so they usually freaked him out something awful – but, he said again, he had never actually seen them do anything terrible, just scurry out of sight.

But, he said, some got pretty big, and not all of them looked exactly the same. I still didn't sleep that night. But over the next week, and those that followed, I found that I did get used to them. I did see more of them. I'd glimpse them out of the corner of my eye, or see the retreating rear end of one crawling into a gutter pipe, or see their tiny faces staring out at the street from the sewers.

Some, it seemed weren't even trying to hide. I live in Providence, Rhode Island, which is a small city. On my way to work one day (I take the bus) I was looking out the window and saw a pretty large one, as large as a medium-sized dog, trotting along the sidewalk. People were just walking by it. Actually, I think that a lot of people saw it as a dog. One man stopped to scratch its head.

I'd always email Jon and tell him about all the appearances I saw. I even tried to catch some on camera, but they always heard the mechanical whirring and darted away before my camera could take a picture.

I told myself I'd have to take a picture of one of the bigger, slower ones. But either way, as the weeks wore on, I became more and more used to them. Sure, they were as creepy as shit, and I could never sit down on the toilet and enjoy a long crap anymore because I was paranoid as fuck they'd climb up into the bowl and bite me on the asshole. But they weren't really doing anything harmful. They unnerved the fuck out of me, but so did big spiders. I could live with them. Jon called them the Gristers, because he said they reminded him of the Grister meme on/x/for some reason.

I'm pretty sure he meant the Grifter meme, but the name 'Grister' stuck. I continued my exchanges with Jon, but I noticed that he was becoming more and more terse. It was hard to tell over text, but really that was the only way to put it. I just figured that once the novelty of a shared experience had worn off, we didn't really have much to talk about.

Jon wasn't really my type – he was a steroid – pumping body builder in southern florida who lived with his mother. But we started discussing Grister behavior, and he said his were starting to act a bit more differently than the ones I saw.

He'd wake up at night and they'd be perched at the end of his bed, staring at him with their eyeless faces. They wouldn't scurry away anymore. He said he woke up one time because of them had actually started touching his face.

That seemed unnerving. This whole time I had been putting out inquiries on the internet to see if anyone else had experienced this phenomenon – I couldn't be the only one. But no one came forward. On /x/, most of my threads about the subject got saged, so eventually I stopped asking. But I have an inquisitive mind. I wanted to know what these things did, what exactly they were.

I even wanted to capture one. I left out food and mouse traps, but none of these things ever went for it. My cat would notice them, though. She'd hiss at them, and even chased them a couple of times. All those times when I had seen her do that and assume she was being a dumbass cat, chasing at nothing. One night, I was walking home from work alone – I work at a call center for a police charity, and my house is about six miles away. I'd had to stay late, so there was no bus to come pick me up, and I didn't really have all that many friends, so I had to walk. Anyway, I was walking past some old, abandoned brick houses – creepy shit, let me tell you – when I heard some weird, low groan. That's when I happened to notice that there were a lot more gristers than usual here.

They were mostly ignoring me, but they were scurrying in and around one particular brick house. The groaning sound seemed to be coming from the alley beside it.

Now, a lot of gristers was creepy enough, even without that low groaning noise. What made me decide to investigate? I don't know. Morbid curiosity. I'm always looking for some creepy/gory stuff to post on the boards. I thought maybe that the groaning was some kind of wounded animal. So I approached the side of the house, noting that the windows were boarded up. The groaning... I should have known then it was no animal. It was a low, creaking, gurgling sound. It didn't sound like any fucking animal I knew.

So I snuck down the alley, and when I saw what was making the noise, I nearly pissed myself.

It was a fat, humongous grister – at least eight feet wide, completely unable to move, with the rolls of fat hanging down over its legs. It had no neck, just fourteen chins leading up to its macabre exposed jaw.

Dirty drool ran down its chin to cover its obscenely huge belly. Smaller gristers crawled in and out of the rolls of its fat. It rubbed itself with a pudgy claw, making that groaning, gurgling sound, which seemed almost sexual. It was terrible. I know it doesn't sound like it, and objectively, I can think that a fat, cooking grister rubbing itself might sound pretty funny, actually.

But in the presence of the thing, all I felt was a sick revulsion and disgust. But – BUT – I kept in mind one thing: that I had been looking for a picture of these things. So I busted out my camera phone and snapped a picture. I wish I hadn't. If I hadn't, I think maybe I could have lasted a little longer. The minute I snapped the picture, the thing stopped groaning and swiveled its head toward me.

All the gristers did, in fact. They all started hissing and screaming at me – a horrible fucking sound, like rusty nails on a chalkboard. I was thoroughly freaked out. To put things mildly, I lost my shit. I ran out of there as fast as I could. Ran all the way home. Gristers didn't seem so harmless to me, now. That noise they had made was straight out of hell.

I didn't feel safe with the lights off anymore. I flipped all the lights on, scaring the shit out of my napping cat. I slammed the bathroom door shut and stuffed a blanket around the cracks again. Then I sat down on my bed and looked at the picture I had taken. There it was. Clear as day. That huge Grister. Just looking at it made me feel sick. Of course I was going to post it on /x/. I loaded it onto my computer and sent an email to Jon, with the excited subject, "WILL YOU LOOK AT THIS FAT FUCK."

Then I immediately came to/x/and began typing up my thread. Explaining myself, explaining the gristers. Explaining the photograph. I was just getting ready to post when Jon sent me a message. "Yo don't show this shit to ANYONE" I stopped. I replied to John, asking him what he was talking about. He told me. He said that he thought he had figured out what was making the gristers around him more hostile. He said that he thought that when they figured out that you could see them, they started getting more aggressive. He showed me scratches he had all down his arm from them clawing him at night. He said that he'd seen a lot more of the bigger ones hanging around his house at night. They watched him through his windows. They knew. They knew he could see them. And they didn't like it. And now, I was pretty sure they knew I could see them too.

So what did I do? In the end, I didn't post the picture. I wasn't TOO intimidated, but it probably saved a lot of you. I didn't want to trigger anyone else into being able to see these guys if it had dangerous consequences down the road.

I didn't notice any behavior change right away. For a while, in fact. For about two weeks, the gristers acted just the same as they had before. I was beginning to think that Jon's problem was his own thing, and that the gristers didn't know or didn't care that I could see them. And then things started happening so fast.

I woke up one night and there were four of them, just perched around my bed, staring at me. I freaked the fuck out and swept them away, and they just hissed that terrible noise at me and ran away. I emailed this to Jon, who I hadn't talked to otherwise. He didn't respond. We hadn't talked since I told him about the picture, and even rarely before then. After two days – during which the gristers began touching me in my sleep – I got an answer.

Jon was dead. His brother had the password to his email and was letting all his internet acquaintances know. He had committed suicide. Sliced open his wrists in the bathtub.

Jon didn't seem I like the type to commit suicide to me.

Had things with the gristers really gotten that bad that they drove him to that? We didn't really know each other very well, but he hadn't mentioned anything to me. His brother said he hadn't left a note. I gave him my condolences.

Now I had no one to talk to about this. I started looking online for more references or anything. All the while, the gristers were getting more and more aggressive. I'd look over my shoulder and there would be one or two on the windowsill, just staring at me.

One Time I opened the door to my apartment – I live on the third floor – and there was one about the size of a large dog staggering around at the bottom of the stairwell, pale face flashing in and out of the darkness, baring its teeth in a growl at me, pale limbs flashing as it bounded up the stairs. I slammed the door shut. I didn't go to work that day. Then I saw it on the news. The house that I had seen the fatass grister at. I would have skipped right past the news story had I not seen the picture of the house. T

he article was titled, "EIGHT FOUND DEAD, THREE ALIVE IN 'RAPE DUNGEON' RAID." Apparently some sick fuck had been using the basement of one of those abandoned houses as a place to keep women prisoner and kill them when they felt like it.

It was a terrible fucking story, but one of the things one of the survivors said really struck me.

"We were just so terrified all the time. We never knew when he was going to come in and decide to kill one of us. When he was going to really hurt us while raping us. We were just so terrified all the time." Terrified all the time. And gristers had been all over that place. And when I first saw one, I had been reading creepypasta, and pretty freaked out. Same for Jon.

Were these things drawn to fear?

Then I read that two of the three survivors were being sent to a mental hospital for 'hallucinations.' Did they see the gristers?

I stopped sleeping. I didn't want to wake up to those things staring at me. I stopped eating, too. Whenever I wasn't at work, which was more and more often, as I called out many times when I saw gristers bigger than a cat sniffing around my building for me, I was locked in my room, trying to hunt for information on the internet about these things.

I just couldn't find anyone who had actually seen them. The gristers were getting more violent. They were starting to scratch me and bite me in those few scant hours that I actually did nod off to sleep. I'd always freak out and sweep them away, and they'd just hiss at me. After about a week of this, I came home from work and found my cat dead.

They had peeled all the skin away from her skull, giving her a look of shock. I quit my job. I cried for days. /x/, I don't have many friends, and I really loved that cat.

They're not stupid, /x/. They don't talk, and they act differently from us, but they do have intelligence. I went out for food last week. It was the last time I will ever go out. I was sitting at the downtown bus station, shivering, looking all around me for gristers, when the bus approached. I got up to get on. And out of nowhere a grister, the size of a normal human, just bent over and walking their weird, loping gait, slammed into the back of the woman next to me and threw her in front of the bus.

She had no chance. I saw her slide under the wheels of the bust, saw her blood and ruined organs squeezed out of her mouth like toothpaste. Everyone freaked out and panicked. As people rushed to her aid, the grister turned toward me and grinned. I dropped my groceries and screamed, running back to my house, sobbing all the way. They're toying with me. And that's when I finally realized why there wasn't anyone I could really talk to about the gristers.

How many times, when people commit suicide, do you hear it reported that they were "suffering from hallucinations"? Read the reports of people who have been in terrible, frightening situations. Like that rape dungeon, or a war. How many of them "suffer from hallucinations"? Sure, a lot of them are actual hallucinations. Some of them are the gristers. And eventually, they figure out that you can see them. And they start fucking with you. And I don't think everyone who they 'kill' is driven to suicide. I don't think Jon committed suicide. I think they're smart. I think they know how to make something look like a suicide. You'll hear about it sometimes. You'll read in a report about how someone committed suicide, but something just isn't quite right about it. Like a man who went out and bought a new couch, and then cut his wrists on it. And /x/, I'm convinced there was nothing special about Jon and me.

I don't think there's anything special about anyone who sees these things. I think you're just more likely to see them when you're really scared, since that's when they're drawn to you.

I can hear them right now. It's about three in the morning. It sounds like a really big one is outside of my apartment door. It sounds like it's trying to gnaw its way through the wood. And so I'm taking the easy way out. I'd rather have a nice sharp knife slice my arms open than have my skin torn by those teeth. So please.

This is my warning to you. Stop reading creepypasta. I know you love it. I know you love frightening yourself. But you've got to stop. Every time you read it – every time you get that feeling of dread in your stomach – you're drawing the gristers to you.

And if you don't stop reading, at least, please. Never check out those sounds in the house when you do.
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Link Posted: 10/20/2013 2:49:27 AM EDT
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Originally Posted By glockfan45:
Here's a lengthy read but a good bit of copypasta.

http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130502131757/creepypasta/images/c/cc/The_gristers.jpg

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Originally Posted By glockfan45:
Here's a lengthy read but a good bit of copypasta.

http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130502131757/creepypasta/images/c/cc/The_gristers.jpg

Okay, or whatever creepy board this makes its way onto – I put it here because I thought it'd get to the most people to whom it was relevant.
If you are one of those people who are inherently drawn to horror, you're in real danger. I don't know what it is exactly – I don't pretend to know everything that's going on, and in fact, myself, I used to be drawn to the more realistic, non-supernatural creepypastas. But... well, let me explain.

About a year ago, I was up at three in the morning – you know, that part of the night where you're so deep into it it feels like it will never end.

Anyway I was up, clicking around, looking for a good creepypasta I hadn't read before, really getting myself freaked out. You know the feeling, I'm sure. You LIKE the feeling. That's the problem. Anyway, I'm reading, and I hear a pattering sound coming from the kitchen.

I had a cat, so I just assumed it was her. But then I glance on my bed, and my cat is there. Now I've been freaking myself out for a while here, so I was nearly trembling with fear as I opened my bedroom door. I live alone, in a single bedroom apartment, with just a bedroom, a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. My bedroom door opens up onto the kitchen. It was pitch black, the moonlight gleaming off the linoleum.

I strained my ears and listened. Heard nothing.I admonished myself for being such a fucking pussy. It was just random house noises, right? Or maybe a fucking mouse in the walls. I was about to turn around and head back into my room when I heard it again.And I saw something scatter across the linoleum in the kitchen, heading for the bathroom.It was small, but it was definitely not a rat.

The limbs were way, way too long. The torso was far too high off the ground. And the way it moved... It moved quickly, but so awkwardly. In any other circumstance, I might have laughed at it. As it was I was scared shitless. So, you know, I basically freeze for I like ten minutes. It was the size of the thing that convinced me to move. No matter how weird, or fucked up it was, it was so much smaller than me. It couldn't have been that dangerous, right?

So I grab the broom I have leaning against the wall of the kitchen, flip on the lights, and head back toward the bathroom.

I find that with the lights on, I'm barely scared at all, you know? More intrigued. I mean, what the fuck could that thing have been? So I pop open the bathroom door. Before I turn on the light, I do a quick scan.

Nothing. I flick the switch. I look around. Still nothing. I look on the ceiling, even. I throw the shower curtain open. Nothing still.What could it have been? My mind started inventing explanations. It definitely had four limbs... Maybe it was a big ass spider who had lost four of its legs somehow?

That could explain the awkward moment. It was good enough for me. I was about to go back to bed when I thought, on a whim, to use my broom to poke behind the toilet, between the wall and the base of the seat. When I did, I hit something solid, and it scurried out. It looked like a tiny human.

It was pale white, pale as a maggot, with dirty gray streaks running along its skin. It moved on all fours, with long, thin fingers that grasped the ground. Its skull was completely bald, and it had no eyes, and the skin looked like it had been torn away from the lower half of its face, leaving the exposed teeth and gums.

It looked up at me... Well, pointed its face in my general direction, anyway, and then scurried, quick as fuck, up the side of the bath and down into the drain. It moved in quick bursts, like a spider, and climbed straight up smooth surfaces like one too. After it disappeared down the drain, I just stood there, frozen, broom handle still in my hand, for a good five minutes.

I was scared shitless. I slowly backed out of the bathroom, and closed the door, and then stuffed a blanket in the crack between the floor and the door, fearing that it might come out.

Then I sat in my bed and wondered what I could do. I mean, it wasn't like I could call the police. Or even tell any of my friends.

It's not I like they'd believe me. So what did I do? I made a thread on /x/. This was quite a while ago, almost a year. You might even remember it. It wasn't anything special, and it didn't even get that many responses before falling off the boards. I guess people thought I was just joking, which really I would have thought the same thing – my thread, in retrospect, sounds exactly I like the type of threads I hate. But besides from all the 'OP is a fag' and 'SAGE' responses, there was one other one.

"I've seen them too man email me." along with an email address that I'm not going to give out here.

So I email this kid, right? Right away he responds and we start up a conversation in IRC. He introduces himself as Jon, and basically tells me a very similar story – one night a few months ago, reading creepypasta, heard a noise, got up, saw the small pale man. His was a bit bigger – he said it was the size of a cat – but he also told me one other thing. That I'd be seeing more of them. He said that ever since he saw the first one, he's been seeing more and more of them – out everywhere, even in the street, during the day.

They were everywhere, he said, and once you noticed the first one, it got a lot easier to see all the other ones. He had no idea what they were, and he hadn't figured out their behavior yet. He said that usually when he saw them or heard them in his own home, he was reading creepypasta, so they usually freaked him out something awful – but, he said again, he had never actually seen them do anything terrible, just scurry out of sight.

But, he said, some got pretty big, and not all of them looked exactly the same. I still didn't sleep that night. But over the next week, and those that followed, I found that I did get used to them. I did see more of them. I'd glimpse them out of the corner of my eye, or see the retreating rear end of one crawling into a gutter pipe, or see their tiny faces staring out at the street from the sewers.

Some, it seemed weren't even trying to hide. I live in Providence, Rhode Island, which is a small city. On my way to work one day (I take the bus) I was looking out the window and saw a pretty large one, as large as a medium-sized dog, trotting along the sidewalk. People were just walking by it. Actually, I think that a lot of people saw it as a dog. One man stopped to scratch its head.

I'd always email Jon and tell him about all the appearances I saw. I even tried to catch some on camera, but they always heard the mechanical whirring and darted away before my camera could take a picture.

I told myself I'd have to take a picture of one of the bigger, slower ones. But either way, as the weeks wore on, I became more and more used to them. Sure, they were as creepy as shit, and I could never sit down on the toilet and enjoy a long crap anymore because I was paranoid as fuck they'd climb up into the bowl and bite me on the asshole. But they weren't really doing anything harmful. They unnerved the fuck out of me, but so did big spiders. I could live with them. Jon called them the Gristers, because he said they reminded him of the Grister meme on/x/for some reason.

I'm pretty sure he meant the Grifter meme, but the name 'Grister' stuck. I continued my exchanges with Jon, but I noticed that he was becoming more and more terse. It was hard to tell over text, but really that was the only way to put it. I just figured that once the novelty of a shared experience had worn off, we didn't really have much to talk about.

Jon wasn't really my type – he was a steroid – pumping body builder in southern florida who lived with his mother. But we started discussing Grister behavior, and he said his were starting to act a bit more differently than the ones I saw.

He'd wake up at night and they'd be perched at the end of his bed, staring at him with their eyeless faces. They wouldn't scurry away anymore. He said he woke up one time because of them had actually started touching his face.

That seemed unnerving. This whole time I had been putting out inquiries on the internet to see if anyone else had experienced this phenomenon – I couldn't be the only one. But no one came forward. On /x/, most of my threads about the subject got saged, so eventually I stopped asking. But I have an inquisitive mind. I wanted to know what these things did, what exactly they were.

I even wanted to capture one. I left out food and mouse traps, but none of these things ever went for it. My cat would notice them, though. She'd hiss at them, and even chased them a couple of times. All those times when I had seen her do that and assume she was being a dumbass cat, chasing at nothing. One night, I was walking home from work alone – I work at a call center for a police charity, and my house is about six miles away. I'd had to stay late, so there was no bus to come pick me up, and I didn't really have all that many friends, so I had to walk. Anyway, I was walking past some old, abandoned brick houses – creepy shit, let me tell you – when I heard some weird, low groan. That's when I happened to notice that there were a lot more gristers than usual here.

They were mostly ignoring me, but they were scurrying in and around one particular brick house. The groaning sound seemed to be coming from the alley beside it.

Now, a lot of gristers was creepy enough, even without that low groaning noise. What made me decide to investigate? I don't know. Morbid curiosity. I'm always looking for some creepy/gory stuff to post on the boards. I thought maybe that the groaning was some kind of wounded animal. So I approached the side of the house, noting that the windows were boarded up. The groaning... I should have known then it was no animal. It was a low, creaking, gurgling sound. It didn't sound like any fucking animal I knew.

So I snuck down the alley, and when I saw what was making the noise, I nearly pissed myself.

It was a fat, humongous grister – at least eight feet wide, completely unable to move, with the rolls of fat hanging down over its legs. It had no neck, just fourteen chins leading up to its macabre exposed jaw.

Dirty drool ran down its chin to cover its obscenely huge belly. Smaller gristers crawled in and out of the rolls of its fat. It rubbed itself with a pudgy claw, making that groaning, gurgling sound, which seemed almost sexual. It was terrible. I know it doesn't sound like it, and objectively, I can think that a fat, cooking grister rubbing itself might sound pretty funny, actually.

But in the presence of the thing, all I felt was a sick revulsion and disgust. But – BUT – I kept in mind one thing: that I had been looking for a picture of these things. So I busted out my camera phone and snapped a picture. I wish I hadn't. If I hadn't, I think maybe I could have lasted a little longer. The minute I snapped the picture, the thing stopped groaning and swiveled its head toward me.

All the gristers did, in fact. They all started hissing and screaming at me – a horrible fucking sound, like rusty nails on a chalkboard. I was thoroughly freaked out. To put things mildly, I lost my shit. I ran out of there as fast as I could. Ran all the way home. Gristers didn't seem so harmless to me, now. That noise they had made was straight out of hell.

I didn't feel safe with the lights off anymore. I flipped all the lights on, scaring the shit out of my napping cat. I slammed the bathroom door shut and stuffed a blanket around the cracks again. Then I sat down on my bed and looked at the picture I had taken. There it was. Clear as day. That huge Grister. Just looking at it made me feel sick. Of course I was going to post it on /x/. I loaded it onto my computer and sent an email to Jon, with the excited subject, "WILL YOU LOOK AT THIS FAT FUCK."

Then I immediately came to/x/and began typing up my thread. Explaining myself, explaining the gristers. Explaining the photograph. I was just getting ready to post when Jon sent me a message. "Yo don't show this shit to ANYONE" I stopped. I replied to John, asking him what he was talking about. He told me. He said that he thought he had figured out what was making the gristers around him more hostile. He said that he thought that when they figured out that you could see them, they started getting more aggressive. He showed me scratches he had all down his arm from them clawing him at night. He said that he'd seen a lot more of the bigger ones hanging around his house at night. They watched him through his windows. They knew. They knew he could see them. And they didn't like it. And now, I was pretty sure they knew I could see them too.

So what did I do? In the end, I didn't post the picture. I wasn't TOO intimidated, but it probably saved a lot of you. I didn't want to trigger anyone else into being able to see these guys if it had dangerous consequences down the road.

I didn't notice any behavior change right away. For a while, in fact. For about two weeks, the gristers acted just the same as they had before. I was beginning to think that Jon's problem was his own thing, and that the gristers didn't know or didn't care that I could see them. And then things started happening so fast.

I woke up one night and there were four of them, just perched around my bed, staring at me. I freaked the fuck out and swept them away, and they just hissed that terrible noise at me and ran away. I emailed this to Jon, who I hadn't talked to otherwise. He didn't respond. We hadn't talked since I told him about the picture, and even rarely before then. After two days – during which the gristers began touching me in my sleep – I got an answer.

Jon was dead. His brother had the password to his email and was letting all his internet acquaintances know. He had committed suicide. Sliced open his wrists in the bathtub.

Jon didn't seem I like the type to commit suicide to me.

Had things with the gristers really gotten that bad that they drove him to that? We didn't really know each other very well, but he hadn't mentioned anything to me. His brother said he hadn't left a note. I gave him my condolences.

Now I had no one to talk to about this. I started looking online for more references or anything. All the while, the gristers were getting more and more aggressive. I'd look over my shoulder and there would be one or two on the windowsill, just staring at me.

One Time I opened the door to my apartment – I live on the third floor – and there was one about the size of a large dog staggering around at the bottom of the stairwell, pale face flashing in and out of the darkness, baring its teeth in a growl at me, pale limbs flashing as it bounded up the stairs. I slammed the door shut. I didn't go to work that day. Then I saw it on the news. The house that I had seen the fatass grister at. I would have skipped right past the news story had I not seen the picture of the house. T

he article was titled, "EIGHT FOUND DEAD, THREE ALIVE IN 'RAPE DUNGEON' RAID." Apparently some sick fuck had been using the basement of one of those abandoned houses as a place to keep women prisoner and kill them when they felt like it.

It was a terrible fucking story, but one of the things one of the survivors said really struck me.

"We were just so terrified all the time. We never knew when he was going to come in and decide to kill one of us. When he was going to really hurt us while raping us. We were just so terrified all the time." Terrified all the time. And gristers had been all over that place. And when I first saw one, I had been reading creepypasta, and pretty freaked out. Same for Jon.

Were these things drawn to fear?

Then I read that two of the three survivors were being sent to a mental hospital for 'hallucinations.' Did they see the gristers?

I stopped sleeping. I didn't want to wake up to those things staring at me. I stopped eating, too. Whenever I wasn't at work, which was more and more often, as I called out many times when I saw gristers bigger than a cat sniffing around my building for me, I was locked in my room, trying to hunt for information on the internet about these things.

I just couldn't find anyone who had actually seen them. The gristers were getting more violent. They were starting to scratch me and bite me in those few scant hours that I actually did nod off to sleep. I'd always freak out and sweep them away, and they'd just hiss at me. After about a week of this, I came home from work and found my cat dead.

They had peeled all the skin away from her skull, giving her a look of shock. I quit my job. I cried for days. /x/, I don't have many friends, and I really loved that cat.

They're not stupid, /x/. They don't talk, and they act differently from us, but they do have intelligence. I went out for food last week. It was the last time I will ever go out. I was sitting at the downtown bus station, shivering, looking all around me for gristers, when the bus approached. I got up to get on. And out of nowhere a grister, the size of a normal human, just bent over and walking their weird, loping gait, slammed into the back of the woman next to me and threw her in front of the bus.

She had no chance. I saw her slide under the wheels of the bust, saw her blood and ruined organs squeezed out of her mouth like toothpaste. Everyone freaked out and panicked. As people rushed to her aid, the grister turned toward me and grinned. I dropped my groceries and screamed, running back to my house, sobbing all the way. They're toying with me. And that's when I finally realized why there wasn't anyone I could really talk to about the gristers.

How many times, when people commit suicide, do you hear it reported that they were "suffering from hallucinations"? Read the reports of people who have been in terrible, frightening situations. Like that rape dungeon, or a war. How many of them "suffer from hallucinations"? Sure, a lot of them are actual hallucinations. Some of them are the gristers. And eventually, they figure out that you can see them. And they start fucking with you. And I don't think everyone who they 'kill' is driven to suicide. I don't think Jon committed suicide. I think they're smart. I think they know how to make something look like a suicide. You'll hear about it sometimes. You'll read in a report about how someone committed suicide, but something just isn't quite right about it. Like a man who went out and bought a new couch, and then cut his wrists on it. And /x/, I'm convinced there was nothing special about Jon and me.

I don't think there's anything special about anyone who sees these things. I think you're just more likely to see them when you're really scared, since that's when they're drawn to you.

I can hear them right now. It's about three in the morning. It sounds like a really big one is outside of my apartment door. It sounds like it's trying to gnaw its way through the wood. And so I'm taking the easy way out. I'd rather have a nice sharp knife slice my arms open than have my skin torn by those teeth. So please.

This is my warning to you. Stop reading creepypasta. I know you love it. I know you love frightening yourself. But you've got to stop. Every time you read it – every time you get that feeling of dread in your stomach – you're drawing the gristers to you.

And if you don't stop reading, at least, please. Never check out those sounds in the house when you do.

Link Posted: 10/20/2013 2:54:54 AM EDT
Why do I read this thread right before bedtime?!?!?
Link Posted: 10/20/2013 3:29:22 AM EDT
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Originally Posted By 170Driver:
Why do I read this thread right before bedtime?!?!?
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Because thats the best time
Link Posted: 10/20/2013 4:14:17 AM EDT

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Originally Posted By WildBoar:






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Originally Posted By WildBoar:



Originally Posted By ClassicLugeMick:

 
I don't know why, but the Black Eyed Kids just reminded me of something when I was at Target once.







A buddy and myself were walking through and there is a red-headed kid in the toy section, he turns to look at us and his eyes were black, I shit you not. I thought I was nuts, but when we got back to the car, my buddy asked if I saw it.
Honestly if I had a ginger for a kid. I would make him wear black contacts and stare at people to freak em out.  




 
You sir are a sick.... genius!
Link Posted: 10/20/2013 8:23:20 AM EDT
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Originally Posted By Nameless_Hobo:
http://imageshack.us/a/img708/678/ps7i.png
Something from /x/ I thought was pretty good.
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Damn, it appears that goatman has a thing for moobs.

Link Posted: 10/20/2013 9:37:24 PM EDT
I guess I can contribute this story here.  I don't think about it much but when I do it still sends shivers down my back.

Back about 1998 or so I was working in a print shop.  It had once been an industrial machine shop that was built in the 50's and had only ever done government contract work.  The place was huge, no windows, all 440V 3 Phase power, just massive in every regard.  It had deep dark corners that no one ever went into, rooms upon rooms, big, old, dusty, full of half finished projects that would never be completed for contracts long since forgotten.  A pretty cool place if you like old giant industrial locations.  In all it was a neat place to work.

There would on occasion be some strange occurences there overnight, stuff disappearing or moving around but it wasn't a big deal because we often ran two shifts so who knew what went on during the opposite shift.

I got to be friends with a woman who worked there who confided in me that she believed the building was haunted.  I kind of laughed it off but she was adamant.  There was a certain room in the building that she absolutely refused to enter under any circumstances.  It was a room that we did book binding in and it was kind of a weird place.  But really only weird because it had plastic sheeting hanging everywhere and it stank of the glue that we used to bind certain types of books together.  She claimed to have seen a woman standing in there in a very antique, like 1800's era, ankle length dress.  The woman had blood red eyes and stood only a foot away from friend grinning a huge wide grin and staring straight into her eyes.  After that supposed sighting this woman absolutely refused to ever set foot in the room again.  

She came to me one day and asked me to help her with something.  She claimed that she had, in the past, had some success using a voice activated tape recorder to catch spirits saying things.  This was my first introduction to EVP, or Electronic Voice Phenomena.  She wanted to know if I would be willing to place her tape recorder in the supposedly haunted room for her.  I told her that I thought she was full of shit but sure, I would put the thing in there if she wanted me to.

So one night at the end of second shift I put the tape recorder in the room.  She stood outside the room and said something to the effect of, "If there are any spirits that want to talk to us, please do so."  We then both clocked out and took off.  I promptly forgot about it because I thought she was kind of nuts.

I came in for the next shift and retrieved her tape recorder and dropped it off to her.  The counter on it showed it had run a little bit since I dropped it off.  I figured it was just the first shift noises which was kind of odd since no book binding had taken place but what did I know.

Shortly after I dropped it off to her my phone rang on the desk in my office.  It was the woman with the tape recorder, she was hysterical, crying and ranting and raving about what an asshole I was and wanting to know why I would do something so awful.

I managed to calm her down and finally she said please come down here and listen to what this tape recorder captured.

I kind of cringed wishing I hadn't gotten involved but I walked down to the back of the building to hear what had her so upset.

Before I go on I will say that we had put a brand new tape in the recorder, nothing had ever been on it before.  The batteries in the voice activated recorder were fresh, and no one but us knew we were doing this stupid experiment.

She rewound the tape and pressed play.  There were a whole bunch of common noises on there.  A church close by whose bell sounded every hour, the furnace starting and stopping, an air compressor in the shop running when the pressure got low and it had to kick on, the sound of a siren passing the shop in the middle of the night.  Just the normal shit you would hear in a closed up building in the middle of the night.

And then it happened.  The tape recorder had starting running even though no sound was being made.  After about 5 seconds of silence the most horrid, wet, gurgling, breathing started.  And it started right beside the recorder.  All the other sounds captured were obviously off in the distance.  The breathing sounded like it happened 6 inches from the microphone.  It sounded labored, like someone had a throat full of phlegm, or blood, or who knows what.

Then things got worse, the breathing turned to a deep, guttural, evil chuckling.  Long, wet, rolling laughs went on for about 15 seconds.  Then silence, then back to the normal sounds of the empty shop, the furnace, the church bell, etc.

I looked at her and my face was probably as white as hers.  She told me that looking at my face she was now convinced I didn't do it, and looking at her I was 100% positive she didn't do it.  

I asked her if I could take it home for my wife to listen to.  My wife made it less than 10 seconds into the wet breathing and she told me to turn it off and get it out of the house and never do anything like that again.  She had a good point, it really did sound like pure evil on that tape.

I gave the woman at the shop the tape and recorder back and she claimed to have burned the tape.

I know at this point a lot of folks will be saying she did it herself after I retrieved the tape recorder and dropped it off to her.  The level of upset that she was displaying, the tears on her face, and her general demeanor told me this was no joke.  Unless she just REALLY wanted to fuck with me then there was no way she made those noises.  To be honest I can't any woman being able to make the kind of noises that were on that tape.

Since that time I have often thought of trying to make another EVP but I don't dare if the truth be told.

So that is my creepy story, take it for what you will.  Typing it all out and reading it again has actually scared the shit out of me.  To this day I believe that tape recorder captured the sound of a demon from somewhere else that decided it was time to scare the shit out the two of us.  





Link Posted: 10/20/2013 9:52:54 PM EDT
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Originally Posted By DangerJ:
If someone could find/repost the Wendigo encounter, that would be awesome.

Guy walking through a mountain pass (?) and comes up on an old mine quarry. Sees something. That's all I remember other than it being awesome.
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Bumping for this story. Anybody?

Glad you guys all enjoyed the Goatman story. I wish that guy would write some more.
Link Posted: 10/20/2013 10:09:15 PM EDT
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Originally Posted By DontBuryMe:


Bumping for this story. Anybody?

Glad you guys all enjoyed the Goatman story. I wish that guy would write some more.
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Originally Posted By DontBuryMe:
Originally Posted By DangerJ:
If someone could find/repost the Wendigo encounter, that would be awesome.

Guy walking through a mountain pass (?) and comes up on an old mine quarry. Sees something. That's all I remember other than it being awesome.


Bumping for this story. Anybody?

Glad you guys all enjoyed the Goatman story. I wish that guy would write some more.


I will try to find it when I get to a PC.  Im pretty sure I linked to it i  this thread a long time ago.  No idea what page.

Posted Via AR15.Com Mobile
Link Posted: 10/20/2013 10:11:06 PM EDT
And I just finished the gristers story.  Fuck that shit.

Whoever wrote it, is a genius, pretty much perfectly profiling everyone who likes these types of stories; you like the 'feeling' you get from reading scary stories.

Posted Via AR15.Com Mobile
Link Posted: 10/20/2013 10:18:33 PM EDT
Originally Posted By PJF:
I guess I can contribute this story here.  I don't think about it much but when I do it still sends shivers down my back.

Back about 1998 or so I was working in a print shop.  It had once been an industrial machine shop that was built in the 50's and had only ever done government contract work.  The place was huge, no windows, all 440V 3 Phase power, just massive in every regard.  It had deep dark corners that no one ever went into, rooms upon rooms, big, old, dusty, full of half finished projects that would never be completed for contracts long since forgotten.  A pretty cool place if you like old giant industrial locations.  In all it was a neat place to work.

There would on occasion be some strange occurences there overnight, stuff disappearing or moving around but it wasn't a big deal because we often ran two shifts so who knew what went on during the opposite shift.

I got to be friends with a woman who worked there who confided in me that she believed the building was haunted.  I kind of laughed it off but she was adamant.  There was a certain room in the building that she absolutely refused to enter under any circumstances.  It was a room that we did book binding in and it was kind of a weird place.  But really only weird because it had plastic sheeting hanging everywhere and it stank of the glue that we used to bind certain types of books together.  She claimed to have seen a woman standing in there in a very antique, like 1800's era, ankle length dress.  The woman had blood red eyes and stood only a foot away from friend grinning a huge wide grin and staring straight into her eyes.  After that supposed sighting this woman absolutely refused to ever set foot in the room again.  

She came to me one day and asked me to help her with something.  She claimed that she had, in the past, had some success using a voice activated tape recorder to catch spirits saying things.  This was my first introduction to EVP, or Electronic Voice Phenomena.  She wanted to know if I would be willing to place her tape recorder in the supposedly haunted room for her.  I told her that I thought she was full of shit but sure, I would put the thing in there if she wanted me to.

So one night at the end of second shift I put the tape recorder in the room.  She stood outside the room and said something to the effect of, "If there are any spirits that want to talk to us, please do so."  We then both clocked out and took off.  I promptly forgot about it because I thought she was kind of nuts.

I came in for the next shift and retrieved her tape recorder and dropped it off to her.  The counter on it showed it had run a little bit since I dropped it off.  I figured it was just the first shift noises which was kind of odd since no book binding had taken place but what did I know.

Shortly after I dropped it off to her my phone rang on the desk in my office.  It was the woman with the tape recorder, she was hysterical, crying and ranting and raving about what an asshole I was and wanting to know why I would do something so awful.

I managed to calm her down and finally she said please come down here and listen to what this tape recorder captured.

I kind of cringed wishing I hadn't gotten involved but I walked down to the back of the building to hear what had her so upset.

Before I go on I will say that we had put a brand new tape in the recorder, nothing had ever been on it before.  The batteries in the voice activated recorder were fresh, and no one but us knew we were doing this stupid experiment.

She rewound the tape and pressed play.  There were a whole bunch of common noises on there.  A church close by whose bell sounded every hour, the furnace starting and stopping, an air compressor in the shop running when the pressure got low and it had to kick on, the sound of a siren passing the shop in the middle of the night.  Just the normal shit you would hear in a closed up building in the middle of the night.

And then it happened.  The tape recorder had starting running even though no sound was being made.  After about 5 seconds of silence the most horrid, wet, gurgling, breathing started.  And it started right beside the recorder.  All the other sounds captured were obviously off in the distance.  The breathing sounded like it happened 6 inches from the microphone.  It sounded labored, like someone had a throat full of phlegm, or blood, or who knows what.

Then things got worse, the breathing turned to a deep, guttural, evil chuckling.  Long, wet, rolling laughs went on for about 15 seconds.  Then silence, then back to the normal sounds of the empty shop, the furnace, the church bell, etc.

I looked at her and my face was probably as white as hers.  She told me that looking at my face she was now convinced I didn't do it, and looking at her I was 100% positive she didn't do it.  

I asked her if I could take it home for my wife to listen to.  My wife made it less than 10 seconds into the wet breathing and she told me to turn it off and get it out of the house and never do anything like that again.  She had a good point, it really did sound like pure evil on that tape.

I gave the woman at the shop the tape and recorder back and she claimed to have burned the tape.

I know at this point a lot of folks will be saying she did it herself after I retrieved the tape recorder and dropped it off to her.  The level of upset that she was displaying, the tears on her face, and her general demeanor told me this was no joke.  Unless she just REALLY wanted to fuck with me then there was no way she made those noises.  To be honest I can't any woman being able to make the kind of noises that were on that tape.

Since that time I have often thought of trying to make another EVP but I don't dare if the truth be told.

So that is my creepy story, take it for what you will.  Typing it all out and reading it again has actually scared the shit out of me.  To this day I believe that tape recorder captured the sound of a demon from somewhere else that decided it was time to scare the shit out the two of us.  





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Fuck.  That.  Shit.

That is some seriously fucked up and creepy shit.

I love and hate this thread at the same time.  

Posted Via AR15.Com Mobile
Link Posted: 10/20/2013 11:51:15 PM EDT
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Originally Posted By NY_Shooter:
And I just finished the gristers story.  Fuck that shit.

Whoever wrote it, is a genius, pretty much perfectly profiling everyone who likes these types of stories; you like the 'feeling' you get from reading scary stories.

Posted Via AR15.Com Mobile
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Admit it.

You were looking for something small scurrying across the floor out of the corner of your eye while you read it.

I was.
Link Posted: 10/20/2013 11:57:30 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 10/21/2013 12:06:08 AM EDT by 6winchester2]
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Originally Posted By PJF:

I guess I can contribute this story here.  I don't think about it much but when I do it still sends shivers down my back...

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I don't know what you were so scared of.

The gurgling sound was probably just the thing choking on blood, and the laughter was probably just demonic in nature.

It was probably just something that got loose from fucking hell and was coming to terrorize you.  Something that you will never escape because it is "following" you and will continue to do so now until you die.

See?  Nothing to be frightened of.

Link Posted: 10/21/2013 12:11:10 AM EDT
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Originally Posted By glockfan45:


Admit it.

You were looking for something small scurrying across the floor out of the corner of your eye while you read it.

I was.
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Originally Posted By glockfan45:
Originally Posted By NY_Shooter:
And I just finished the gristers story.  Fuck that shit.

Whoever wrote it, is a genius, pretty much perfectly profiling everyone who likes these types of stories; you like the 'feeling' you get from reading scary stories.

Posted Via AR15.Com Mobile


Admit it.

You were looking for something small scurrying across the floor out of the corner of your eye while you read it.

I was.


Im at work.  No worries.

Now, if I was home reading that, then yeah, my imagination would have taken over.



Posted Via AR15.Com Mobile
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 12:21:25 AM EDT
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Originally Posted By glockfan45:


Admit it.

You were looking for something small scurrying across the floor out of the corner of your eye while you read it.

I was.
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Originally Posted By glockfan45:
Originally Posted By NY_Shooter:
And I just finished the gristers story.  Fuck that shit.

Whoever wrote it, is a genius, pretty much perfectly profiling everyone who likes these types of stories; you like the 'feeling' you get from reading scary stories.

Posted Via AR15.Com Mobile


Admit it.

You were looking for something small scurrying across the floor out of the corner of your eye while you read it.

I was.


I was about 3/4 of the way through the story when my cat, that I didn't know was under the bed, came out and jumped up on the bed right by my face. Little bastard scared the hell out of me.
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 1:09:14 AM EDT

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Originally Posted By PJF:


I guess I can contribute this story here.  I don't think about it much but when I do it still sends shivers down my back...

...

...

...

... To this day I believe that tape recorder captured the sound of a demon from somewhere else that decided it was time to scare the shit out the two of us.  

View Quote


You know, you guys really do need a new night janitor at the shop.  I hear the old guy you have right now might have tuberculosis.
 
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 1:41:55 AM EDT
I was about 3/4 of the way through the story when my cat, that I didn't know was under the bed, came out and jumped up on the bed right by my face. Little bastard scared the hell out of me
View Quote
.

I am a security guard. Many years ago I was in a small guard house in Palos Verdes, CA... high up maybe 1500 feet or more. Now PV gets some pretty raw weather. The rain was coming down, wind shaking the guard house and actually making the 4' x 6' windows buckle!

So I put on some coffee in the coffee maker and sat down to my book, which was some Stephen King novel. The characters were talking about the horrible injuries some poor bastard had sustained and the coffee maker let out a very vocal "OOMHHHHMMMPH!"

EVERY hair on my head stood straight up.
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 8:46:33 AM EDT
I was going to post some stories, but the website would not respond. Everything was fine until then. Oh noes!
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 9:24:15 AM EDT
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Originally Posted By PJF:
I guess I can contribute this story here.  I don't think about it much but when I do it still sends shivers down my back.

Back about 1998 or so I was working in a print shop.  It had once been an industrial machine shop that was built in the 50's and had only ever done government contract work.  The place was huge, no windows, all 440V 3 Phase power, just massive in every regard.  It had deep dark corners that no one ever went into, rooms upon rooms, big, old, dusty, full of half finished projects that would never be completed for contracts long since forgotten.  A pretty cool place if you like old giant industrial locations.  In all it was a neat place to work.

There would on occasion be some strange occurences there overnight, stuff disappearing or moving around but it wasn't a big deal because we often ran two shifts so who knew what went on during the opposite shift.

I got to be friends with a woman who worked there who confided in me that she believed the building was haunted.  I kind of laughed it off but she was adamant.  There was a certain room in the building that she absolutely refused to enter under any circumstances.  It was a room that we did book binding in and it was kind of a weird place.  But really only weird because it had plastic sheeting hanging everywhere and it stank of the glue that we used to bind certain types of books together.  She claimed to have seen a woman standing in there in a very antique, like 1800's era, ankle length dress.  The woman had blood red eyes and stood only a foot away from friend grinning a huge wide grin and staring straight into her eyes.  After that supposed sighting this woman absolutely refused to ever set foot in the room again.  

She came to me one day and asked me to help her with something.  She claimed that she had, in the past, had some success using a voice activated tape recorder to catch spirits saying things.  This was my first introduction to EVP, or Electronic Voice Phenomena.  She wanted to know if I would be willing to place her tape recorder in the supposedly haunted room for her.  I told her that I thought she was full of shit but sure, I would put the thing in there if she wanted me to.

So one night at the end of second shift I put the tape recorder in the room.  She stood outside the room and said something to the effect of, "If there are any spirits that want to talk to us, please do so."  We then both clocked out and took off.  I promptly forgot about it because I thought she was kind of nuts.

I came in for the next shift and retrieved her tape recorder and dropped it off to her.  The counter on it showed it had run a little bit since I dropped it off.  I figured it was just the first shift noises which was kind of odd since no book binding had taken place but what did I know.

Shortly after I dropped it off to her my phone rang on the desk in my office.  It was the woman with the tape recorder, she was hysterical, crying and ranting and raving about what an asshole I was and wanting to know why I would do something so awful.

I managed to calm her down and finally she said please come down here and listen to what this tape recorder captured.

I kind of cringed wishing I hadn't gotten involved but I walked down to the back of the building to hear what had her so upset.

Before I go on I will say that we had put a brand new tape in the recorder, nothing had ever been on it before.  The batteries in the voice activated recorder were fresh, and no one but us knew we were doing this stupid experiment.

She rewound the tape and pressed play.  There were a whole bunch of common noises on there.  A church close by whose bell sounded every hour, the furnace starting and stopping, an air compressor in the shop running when the pressure got low and it had to kick on, the sound of a siren passing the shop in the middle of the night.  Just the normal shit you would hear in a closed up building in the middle of the night.

And then it happened.  The tape recorder had starting running even though no sound was being made.  After about 5 seconds of silence the most horrid, wet, gurgling, breathing started.  And it started right beside the recorder.  All the other sounds captured were obviously off in the distance.  The breathing sounded like it happened 6 inches from the microphone.  It sounded labored, like someone had a throat full of phlegm, or blood, or who knows what.

Then things got worse, the breathing turned to a deep, guttural, evil chuckling.  Long, wet, rolling laughs went on for about 15 seconds.  Then silence, then back to the normal sounds of the empty shop, the furnace, the church bell, etc.

I looked at her and my face was probably as white as hers.  She told me that looking at my face she was now convinced I didn't do it, and looking at her I was 100% positive she didn't do it.  

I asked her if I could take it home for my wife to listen to.  My wife made it less than 10 seconds into the wet breathing and she told me to turn it off and get it out of the house and never do anything like that again.  She had a good point, it really did sound like pure evil on that tape.

I gave the woman at the shop the tape and recorder back and she claimed to have burned the tape.

I know at this point a lot of folks will be saying she did it herself after I retrieved the tape recorder and dropped it off to her.  The level of upset that she was displaying, the tears on her face, and her general demeanor told me this was no joke.  Unless she just REALLY wanted to fuck with me then there was no way she made those noises.  To be honest I can't any woman being able to make the kind of noises that were on that tape.

Since that time I have often thought of trying to make another EVP but I don't dare if the truth be told.

So that is my creepy story, take it for what you will.  Typing it all out and reading it again has actually scared the shit out of me.  To this day I believe that tape recorder captured the sound of a demon from somewhere else that decided it was time to scare the shit out the two of us.  





View Quote



I had considered trying the EVP thing before where I work.  I can't really name the site, the client or my company anymore due to their policies regarding social media, but the plant is between 80 to 90 years old and sitting on the location of an old plantation.  On top of that, if I open my second floor bay door, I have a lovely view of the old plantation cemetary.

However, I keep talking myself out of it since I am not sure I would really like to hear what I would record.  I might work dayshift now, but I was the last person moved to days, thus, I am the first to return th shifts if we lose someone, and I could alwasy end up back on graveyard shift working by myself from 11pm to 9am.
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 11:31:00 AM EDT
[Last Edit: 10/21/2013 12:05:36 PM EDT by Bomber46]
So, here's a recent story.  I'm deployed, but the wife passed this one to me just a few minutes ago.

We have an old house, built around 1870, small town in northern Illinois.  We bought it about 5 years ago.  Big, 2-story house.  There's a half-finished attic that looks like it might have been servants' quarters way back when, and a full basement.  We use the attic and basement for storage, and are slowly working on restoring the whole thing.  Upstairs is four bedrooms and a bathroom, all arranged around a central hallway.  The kids share a room - boy is 8, girl is 2 1/2.  Never seen anything odd or out of place.  Until last week.

The boy was staying with his grandparents.  Around 2am, the wife woke up to hear the little girl crying and freaking out.  She went to see what was going on, and the girl said, "grandma has to go downstairs."  Wife was not entirely awake, asked her what she was talking about.  Little girl points right next to her mommy and says, "black grandma needs to go downstairs."  She might have been dreaming, but the odd thing is, she never refers to people that way.  Her brother used to, when he was little - the "blue guy" or the "black lady," always in reference to whatever they were wearing.  But she never has.  No idea why she where she would come up with that term.  Anyway, wife and daughter both went and slept in the master bedroom.  Nothing else about black grandma since.

ETA: both grandmothers are still around.  One is Grammy, one is Nana.  She doesn't call anybody "grandma."

And since this is GD, pic of the two girls in the story:



No pics of black grandma.  Yet.
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 12:00:20 PM EDT
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Originally Posted By Bomber46:
So, here's a recent story.  I'm deployed, but the wife passed this one to me just a few minutes ago.

We have an old house, built around 1870, small town in northern Illinois.  We bought it about 5 years ago.  Big, 2-story house.  There's a half-finished attic that looks like it might have been servants' quarters way back when, and a full basement.  We use the attic and basement for storage, and are slowly working on restoring the whole thing.  Upstairs is four bedrooms and a bathroom, all arranged around a central hallway.  The kids share a room - boy is 8, girl is 2 1/2.  Never seen anything odd or out of place.  Until last week.

The boy was staying with his grandparents.  Around 2am, the wife woke up to hear the little girl crying and freaking out.  She went to see what was going on, and the girl said, "black grandma has to go downstairs."  Wife was not entirely awake, asked her what she was talking about.  Little girl points right next to her mommy and says, "black grandma needs to go downstairs."  She might have been dreaming, but the odd thing is, she never refers to people that way.  Her brother used to, when he was little - the "blue guy" or the "black lady," always in reference to whatever they were wearing.  But she never has.  No idea why she where she would come up with that term.  Anyway, wife and daughter both went and slept in the master bedroom.  Nothing else about black grandma since.

And since this is GD, pic of the two girls in the story:

http://img33.imageshack.us/img33/7017/h0hj.JPG

No pics of black grandma.  Yet.
View Quote



I've watched enough episodes of A Haunting to know it always starts with remodeling or restoration.
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 2:30:41 PM EDT
I found the Wendigo story I was looking for

All my life till i was 18 i lived in a town called Wells in north eastern Nevada. Small town population of a thousand, so all of my outdoor activities involved being outdoors. From when i was 13-15 i saved up enough to buy an HK91. My dad bought it for me for $2761.44. From then on it went everywhere i did in the woods. When i got my drivers license it meant that i could go roaming about. My 1972 Toyota Landcruiser with a Chevy 350 for the close stuff (it got 5 miles per gallon on a ten gallon tank ) or my 1972 Dodge W200 with a 36 and 20 gallon tank, so anything outside of line of sight i took the Dodge.

One weekend i decided to explore around the Ruby Marshes, and go into the Ruby Mountains around there, right around old Fort Ruby, a fort that was built in 1860 to serve as an outpost for the pony express etc. I went into the mountains north of it and checked out some pretty cool terrain and old minesites. When i was going down the road i noticed some overgrown tracks that went into a canyon and decided to make it into a nevada highway and follow them. I followed it for about five miles or so and the road got better. It was grated well and continued on except for the fact there was a tree about three feet in diameter blocking the road. Beyond that looked pretty cool so i decided to get out on foot and check it out. After the tree the road went straight about 100 yards then sharply rounded to the right, went about another hundred yards then hooked left going to a mining cabin and a windmill on the top of the ridge. The side after where it hooks right is limestone next to the road with the ridge a constant 100 yards or so from the road.

Because of how i was raised, and my new found fondness for my 91 i went everywhere in the hills on foot armed. I had my 91 slung on my chest and 5 mags in my cheap korean nylon bandolier. My USP 45 my dad bought for me was in the also cheap ACE brand dropleg holster. I parked my Dodge and set out past the tree. As soon as i crossed it it immediately seemed weird. Anyone who has been out in the woods knows that there is always noise. When i parked my truck you could hear the birds singing and cicadas and other bugs buzzing about. As soon as i crossed the tree in the road it was silence. I kept walking up and did not see any bugs or anything moving. As i went up i felt uneasy, as if something was watching me the entire time.

On the way up i noticed most of the pines on the hill were broken off about ten feet up or so and many of the limestone rocks had chunks missing like someone punched a hole in sheetrock. I made it up to the cabin and it was pretty fucked up. Huge holes in the exterior, walls knocked down. Even for its age it was a lil too fucked up. I checked it out and found nothing recent so i went to the windmill. In the windmill there was a hollow shaft going down that was filled with water. I went up the ridge to the shaft and it was intact like it was just ran the day before. Right above it there were four hug piles or rocks making a rectangle where within there were mounts made of rocks. When i passed the pile of rocks the wind kicked up and it got downright cold. I felt like i was being watched so i decided i should leave.

The whole time i was walking back to the truck i felt like something was watching me. Once i got back on the road i kept hearing something follow me on the ridgeline. WHen i moved it moved. I stopped it stopped. I thought i was maybe being imaginative until rocks would slide down from the ridge. As i rounded the bend i heard the steps on the ridge pick up and i decided its time to shoot. Whatever it was had dashed between the cedars to a lonely pine 20 yards in either direction from cover. Fuck that i dumped all twenty rounds from my 91 onto the tree. Anyone who has shot an animal knows the difference between the thump on wood and thwack on an animal. I heard five or so thwacks at the end followed by a blood curdling yell. I dumped the empty mag on the ground and slapped a new one in and ran. I felt like the whole forest was coming down on me, i saw things move from trees from my side vision. I tried to jump across the tree and ate shit and rolled into my bumper. All of the sudden i could hear the birds and bugs. I got back up and looked behind the tree to see something resembling an upright wolf standing about 60 feet from me, behind the fallen tree. Its eyes were red in the daylight and when i looked at it for a moment i knew i should not be there and it said not to come back. I broke out of it and shot the mag in my 91 at it, most which i knew hit made no sound and it just turned towards me. I shot 5 rounds from my USP at it and saw it had no effect. Thats when i decided it was time to leave.

On the way back i made my 3 hour trip in into a 1 hour trip back. Once i got back into town no one believed me. A few weeks later i talked to a friend of mine that was an elder paiute indian and told him of what i had experienced. He asked me of where i went and i told him. He said i went into the sacred burial mounds that the Wendigo guarded.

This was the single most fucked up experience i have ever had. Few i have told of it and i do not care if anyone believes me. All i know is it happened to me and it is what it is. Ill never go back there alone. After he told me it could not be killed and i saw what i did i won't either.

Erick Z
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 2:31:05 PM EDT
Here's another oldie-but-goodie

Back in the winter of 2001 my youngest son and I were on our way from Boise,Idaho to Medford, Oregon. We had taken a car trailer to his old place in Boise in order to haul his non-running Jeep to his new place in Medford. We hit an area of heavy snow in the southern Cascades around 2:00 a.m. It took 45 minutes or so to get down the mountain. We had, of course been drinking coffee to stay alert.

About 25 miles west of the pass it became obvious that the last few quarts of coffee had to be drained. We stopped at a wide spot in the road near a summer tourist haunt,deserted in winter. There is a gas station and ice cream joint on the west side of the road,closed this time of year,and no town or settlement within 30 miles. This is tall timber country, and unsettled.Across the road is a small parking area for the ice cream joint. It is paved and about 200 ft.wide and 80 ft.deep. I pulled in and as I stepped out with .45 on hip, it occurred to me in a flash that grabbing the 590 Mossy would be good.

As we walked to the far end of the area to be well off the road, the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end. The area directly to our front was open with a depth of 50 yards and a width of 100 yards. The night was clear and cold, 8-10 inches of snow on the ground, and with a moon almost full, so we could see quite well. While standing and taking a leak, with son about 15 ft.to my right I saw, as if springing from the earth in front of us across the open area 10 or 12 creatures moving RAPIDLY back and forth in sort of a Thatch weave pattern. These things, not human men, were close to 7 ft.tall, thin, bipedal with long arms, medium length gray fur, and damned fast on their feet. I brought the shotgun up and slid the safety off, as son was drawing his .45.

I don't know if I can adequately explain the overwhelming feeling of menace,but here goes. I had been operating on pure instinct since I had stepped from the pickup,the rotten feeling hit me a split second before the things arrived, the feeling?, instinct?, was that we were prey, and subject to a very bad death, and to be slaughtered and eaten, not a logical process, gut feeling and massively overwhelming.

As they were moving about in front of us,more appeared and mixed among them,all the while running about fast in front of us. Son and I were backing toward the truck, I WOULD NOT present my back to them, and some of them peeled off right and left in an encirclement movement. They were rolling in fast from the sides now, I could smell and feel their presence. We got to the truck loaded on adrenaline and ready to kill, as we both knew we were in grave danger. We piled into the truck,locked doors. I had keys out and ready, as my butt neared the seat, I had the engine lit and trans. in gear and gas pedal mashed in one motion. Adrenaline is great stuff! As we fled, yes fled, something VERY close by let out a ululating scream of rage, and pain. I believe one or more of the group had gotten really close to us in their pursuit and I ran over the foot of one of them, yeah they were that close. We rolled onto the highway and I told son to watch the bed of the pickup as well as the trailer, he already was indexed to the rear with the shotgun. We hauled ass for at least 20 miles before the feeling of grave danger started to abate. The feeling that nailed both of us, as we discussed soon afterward, was one of being prey, and soon to be slaughtered and eaten. I am not easily led, and neither believe or disbelieve all the bigfoot, ghost and werewolf stuff, in fact I am skeptical. Son was speaking with a coworker about 6 months later who had grown up in Prospect, Oregon, about 30 miles south of Union Creek where the incident took place. He asked Jake if he had ever heard of any strange goings-on in the area. Jake went ashy white and pretty much retold the above tale. He says to avoid the place at night. A family friend, a 25 yr. retired cop not given to flights of fancy and an excellent observer, had a tale very similar from a year before. I told my wife of this event of course, she looked at me at the beginning as though I had developed a 3rd eyeball in the center of my forehead. That was from shock, she did believe me, but did not wish to hear any details. She said the tale gave her chills. Me too, as I write this, hair on back of neck and forearms is sticking up.

I have NOT gone back to explore, and would not without a large group of shotgun and flamethrower equipped men with me.

Son and I are both sane, sober persons, and not taken to hysteria. We were wide, VERY wide awake as things transpired. We saw and smelled what was there. As a sidebar neither of us heard footfalls from the creatures. They were silent until i hurt one as we were getting the Hell out of there.

To my knowledge, and I have researched, there is nothing that matches these creatures, unless one considers old legends and folk tales of were creatures. To conclude, I have to fall back on Elmer Keith's famous line, "Hell,I was there."

Best regards, Ryan B.
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 3:51:12 PM EDT
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 3:54:24 PM EDT
I remember that story.  I think it was in Utah andHis buddy from school took him and another guy down there.. It was a mine on the middle of an island.. He ended up fighting his friend and NOPING the hell out of there.  He had pics of the out side of the mine, I think.
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 3:59:02 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 10/21/2013 3:59:28 PM EDT by radiohead11]
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 5:54:56 PM EDT
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Originally Posted By radiohead11:
I think this is the story you were talking about.

http://www.ar15.com/forums/t_1_5/762310_Ok__boys_and_girls__it_s_time_for_another_CREEPY_THREAD.html&page=15#i19342847

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I go shooting out in Stansbury all the time. Now I'm officially creeped the fuck out
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 6:04:32 PM EDT

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Originally Posted By radiohead11:


I think this is the story you were talking about.



http://www.ar15.com/forums/t_1_5/762310_Ok__boys_and_girls__it_s_time_for_another_CREEPY_THREAD.html&page=15#i19342847



View Quote
That was pretty damn creepy.

 






I am going to have to see if my mom will let me bring the night light down to the basement.
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 6:05:59 PM EDT
Once, when I was 16, a friend of mine (Rachel) and I went for a drive. There's a lot of little abandoned houses in my hometown area. The valley is just a string of tiny towns, and a whole bunch of agriculture. Some pioneer houses were just left to rot.

We were doing our best to waste our entire day, so we ended up going down some back road. At some point the dirt road almost ended, and just before it did, out in a field, we saw a little broken down house. One of the old stone ones built in the 1800s. We decided to go explore it and see if there was anything interesting.

We parked the car on the side of the dirt road and traipsed across the field, until reaching the house. The roof was long gone, as was anything wooden. All that stood were the stone walls. It had been a three room house. Maybe a living room, a kitchen, a bedroom. We went in, and what we found creeped me the fuck out. It still does, to this day.

In what was left of the living room, there was a pile of bones neatly stacked in each of the four corners. Kinda like a kid was playing with Lincoln logs. Upon closer inspection, I found them to be sheep bones. One whole sheep, carefully organized in each corner.

While I was crouched down looking at the bones, I heard Rachel say, "Who is that!?" I got up and walked to where she was standing, hand up to her eyes, looking towards her car. Stopped in the road sat an old white pickup. Maybe a late 70s ford. Just sitting there, stopped farther down the road than where we had parked. At that point the hair on my arms stood up. The longer it sat there the more nervous I was. "Let's get the fuck out of here," I said, and we ran, full tilt, all the way across the field - all the while keeping an eye on the truck. It didn't move, just sat there.

We got to her car, and I could see the shape of someone sitting in the truck but I couldn't make out any distinguishing features. Rachel floored it and we got out of there. The truck started following us. Rachel drove faster, to the point I was worried we were going to break some shocks. It kept up with us. We finally reached the main road, which was paved. I turned to see if the truck was still behind us - and it was gone. Not a trace. The weird part is there was nowhere to turn off on that road. There were no telltale dust clouds down the road. Just... gone.


Ick.

I like to tell myself it was just some grumpy old man fucking with us, but I still don't know where that damn truck went.
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 6:37:14 PM EDT
Went hunting this morning in a little permanent blind I built across the road, about fifty yards into the woods, on the edge of a drop-off into a heavily-wooded hollow.  This hollow runs north/south, and I'm on the eastern ridge looking down into it.  I get there at about quarter of seven, and hour before sunrise.  Pitch black, clear sky, full moon over the western horizon.

That goddamn goatman story.  Holy fuck, every noise I heard, noise from my chicken coop back across the road, noise from my kenneled dogs, noise from my cat nosing around the trees at the edge of the road.  Felt like someone was standing behind me the whole time.  All I could think of was the fucking goatman.

Didnt see any deer so I came back to the house around ten and drank some coffee.  Told my son(16) who's read all the stories on the creepy thread.  He laughed his ass off, then stopped abruptly.  "Damn it," he shook his head.  "I'm hunting that blind this afternoon, now I'M gonna be thinking about the goatman all evening."
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 9:08:20 PM EDT
Any got the link to the creepy military thread?
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 9:35:44 PM EDT


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Originally Posted By 3DD3:



Any got the link to the creepy military thread?
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http://www.ar15.com/forums/t_1_5/1470518_Military_Creepy_Thread.html




 
 
Link Posted: 10/21/2013 9:36:42 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 10/21/2013 9:37:07 PM EDT by kozaki]


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Originally Posted By 3DD3:



Any got the link to the creepy military thread?



View Quote






Here you GO!



Edit: 58 seconds, lol.

Link Posted: 10/21/2013 9:52:45 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 10/21/2013 9:53:32 PM EDT by Pro_Patria_431]
Here

Edit: Way late
Link Posted: 10/22/2013 11:19:11 AM EDT
Okay so late to this thread but just read that goatman story. Holy shit is all I can say. I cant even say what my reaction would have been. That is one of the best story's I have read in a long long time.
Link Posted: 10/22/2013 12:06:49 PM EDT
Link Posted: 10/23/2013 12:45:37 AM EDT
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Originally Posted By PJF:
I guess I can contribute this story here.  I don't think about it much but when I do it still sends shivers down my back.

Back about 1998 or so I was working in a print shop.  It had once been an industrial machine shop that was built in the 50's and had only ever done government contract work.  The place was huge, no windows, all 440V 3 Phase power, just massive in every regard.  It had deep dark corners that no one ever went into, rooms upon rooms, big, old, dusty, full of half finished projects that would never be completed for contracts long since forgotten.  A pretty cool place if you like old giant industrial locations.  In all it was a neat place to work.

There would on occasion be some strange occurences there overnight, stuff disappearing or moving around but it wasn't a big deal because we often ran two shifts so who knew what went on during the opposite shift.

I got to be friends with a woman who worked there who confided in me that she believed the building was haunted.  I kind of laughed it off but she was adamant.  There was a certain room in the building that she absolutely refused to enter under any circumstances.  It was a room that we did book binding in and it was kind of a weird place.  But really only weird because it had plastic sheeting hanging everywhere and it stank of the glue that we used to bind certain types of books together.  She claimed to have seen a woman standing in there in a very antique, like 1800's era, ankle length dress.  The woman had blood red eyes and stood only a foot away from friend grinning a huge wide grin and staring straight into her eyes.  After that supposed sighting this woman absolutely refused to ever set foot in the room again.  

She came to me one day and asked me to help her with something.  She claimed that she had, in the past, had some success using a voice activated tape recorder to catch spirits saying things.  This was my first introduction to EVP, or Electronic Voice Phenomena.  She wanted to know if I would be willing to place her tape recorder in the supposedly haunted room for her.  I told her that I thought she was full of shit but sure, I would put the thing in there if she wanted me to.

So one night at the end of second shift I put the tape recorder in the room.  She stood outside the room and said something to the effect of, "If there are any spirits that want to talk to us, please do so."  We then both clocked out and took off.  I promptly forgot about it because I thought she was kind of nuts.

I came in for the next shift and retrieved her tape recorder and dropped it off to her.  The counter on it showed it had run a little bit since I dropped it off.  I figured it was just the first shift noises which was kind of odd since no book binding had taken place but what did I know.

Shortly after I dropped it off to her my phone rang on the desk in my office.  It was the woman with the tape recorder, she was hysterical, crying and ranting and raving about what an asshole I was and wanting to know why I would do something so awful.

I managed to calm her down and finally she said please come down here and listen to what this tape recorder captured.

I kind of cringed wishing I hadn't gotten involved but I walked down to the back of the building to hear what had her so upset.

Before I go on I will say that we had put a brand new tape in the recorder, nothing had ever been on it before.  The batteries in the voice activated recorder were fresh, and no one but us knew we were doing this stupid experiment.

She rewound the tape and pressed play.  There were a whole bunch of common noises on there.  A church close by whose bell sounded every hour, the furnace starting and stopping, an air compressor in the shop running when the pressure got low and it had to kick on, the sound of a siren passing the shop in the middle of the night.  Just the normal shit you would hear in a closed up building in the middle of the night.

And then it happened.  The tape recorder had starting running even though no sound was being made.  After about 5 seconds of silence the most horrid, wet, gurgling, breathing started.  And it started right beside the recorder.  All the other sounds captured were obviously off in the distance.  The breathing sounded like it happened 6 inches from the microphone.  It sounded labored, like someone had a throat full of phlegm, or blood, or who knows what.

Then things got worse, the breathing turned to a deep, guttural, evil chuckling.  Long, wet, rolling laughs went on for about 15 seconds.  Then silence, then back to the normal sounds of the empty shop, the furnace, the church bell, etc.

I looked at her and my face was probably as white as hers.  She told me that looking at my face she was now convinced I didn't do it, and looking at her I was 100% positive she didn't do it.  

I asked her if I could take it home for my wife to listen to.  My wife made it less than 10 seconds into the wet breathing and she told me to turn it off and get it out of the house and never do anything like that again.  She had a good point, it really did sound like pure evil on that tape.

I gave the woman at the shop the tape and recorder back and she claimed to have burned the tape.

I know at this point a lot of folks will be saying she did it herself after I retrieved the tape recorder and dropped it off to her.  The level of upset that she was displaying, the tears on her face, and her general demeanor told me this was no joke.  Unless she just REALLY wanted to fuck with me then there was no way she made those noises.  To be honest I can't any woman being able to make the kind of noises that were on that tape.

Since that time I have often thought of trying to make another EVP but I don't dare if the truth be told.

So that is my creepy story, take it for what you will.  Typing it all out and reading it again has actually scared the shit out of me.  To this day I believe that tape recorder captured the sound of a demon from somewhere else that decided it was time to scare the shit out the two of us.  





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Incredible...thank you for sharing this. Demons are real---of this I have no doubt.
Link Posted: 10/23/2013 3:19:51 AM EDT
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Originally Posted By DisplacedHoosier:


Incredible...thank you for sharing this. Demons are real---of this I have no doubt.
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Originally Posted By DisplacedHoosier:
Originally Posted By PJF:
I guess I can contribute this story here.  I don't think about it much but when I do it still sends shivers down my back.

Back about 1998 or so I was working in a print shop.  It had once been an industrial machine shop that was built in the 50's and had only ever done government contract work.  The place was huge, no windows, all 440V 3 Phase power, just massive in every regard.  It had deep dark corners that no one ever went into, rooms upon rooms, big, old, dusty, full of half finished projects that would never be completed for contracts long since forgotten.  A pretty cool place if you like old giant industrial locations.  In all it was a neat place to work.

There would on occasion be some strange occurences there overnight, stuff disappearing or moving around but it wasn't a big deal because we often ran two shifts so who knew what went on during the opposite shift.

I got to be friends with a woman who worked there who confided in me that she believed the building was haunted.  I kind of laughed it off but she was adamant.  There was a certain room in the building that she absolutely refused to enter under any circumstances.  It was a room that we did book binding in and it was kind of a weird place.  But really only weird because it had plastic sheeting hanging everywhere and it stank of the glue that we used to bind certain types of books together.  She claimed to have seen a woman standing in there in a very antique, like 1800's era, ankle length dress.  The woman had blood red eyes and stood only a foot away from friend grinning a huge wide grin and staring straight into her eyes.  After that supposed sighting this woman absolutely refused to ever set foot in the room again.  

She came to me one day and asked me to help her with something.  She claimed that she had, in the past, had some success using a voice activated tape recorder to catch spirits saying things.  This was my first introduction to EVP, or Electronic Voice Phenomena.  She wanted to know if I would be willing to place her tape recorder in the supposedly haunted room for her.  I told her that I thought she was full of shit but sure, I would put the thing in there if she wanted me to.

So one night at the end of second shift I put the tape recorder in the room.  She stood outside the room and said something to the effect of, "If there are any spirits that want to talk to us, please do so."  We then both clocked out and took off.  I promptly forgot about it because I thought she was kind of nuts.

I came in for the next shift and retrieved her tape recorder and dropped it off to her.  The counter on it showed it had run a little bit since I dropped it off.  I figured it was just the first shift noises which was kind of odd since no book binding had taken place but what did I know.

Shortly after I dropped it off to her my phone rang on the desk in my office.  It was the woman with the tape recorder, she was hysterical, crying and ranting and raving about what an asshole I was and wanting to know why I would do something so awful.

I managed to calm her down and finally she said please come down here and listen to what this tape recorder captured.

I kind of cringed wishing I hadn't gotten involved but I walked down to the back of the building to hear what had her so upset.

Before I go on I will say that we had put a brand new tape in the recorder, nothing had ever been on it before.  The batteries in the voice activated recorder were fresh, and no one but us knew we were doing this stupid experiment.

She rewound the tape and pressed play.  There were a whole bunch of common noises on there.  A church close by whose bell sounded every hour, the furnace starting and stopping, an air compressor in the shop running when the pressure got low and it had to kick on, the sound of a siren passing the shop in the middle of the night.  Just the normal shit you would hear in a closed up building in the middle of the night.

And then it happened.  The tape recorder had starting running even though no sound was being made.  After about 5 seconds of silence the most horrid, wet, gurgling, breathing started.  And it started right beside the recorder.  All the other sounds captured were obviously off in the distance.  The breathing sounded like it happened 6 inches from the microphone.  It sounded labored, like someone had a throat full of phlegm, or blood, or who knows what.

Then things got worse, the breathing turned to a deep, guttural, evil chuckling.  Long, wet, rolling laughs went on for about 15 seconds.  Then silence, then back to the normal sounds of the empty shop, the furnace, the church bell, etc.

I looked at her and my face was probably as white as hers.  She told me that looking at my face she was now convinced I didn't do it, and looking at her I was 100% positive she didn't do it.  

I asked her if I could take it home for my wife to listen to.  My wife made it less than 10 seconds into the wet breathing and she told me to turn it off and get it out of the house and never do anything like that again.  She had a good point, it really did sound like pure evil on that tape.

I gave the woman at the shop the tape and recorder back and she claimed to have burned the tape.

I know at this point a lot of folks will be saying she did it herself after I retrieved the tape recorder and dropped it off to her.  The level of upset that she was displaying, the tears on her face, and her general demeanor told me this was no joke.  Unless she just REALLY wanted to fuck with me then there was no way she made those noises.  To be honest I can't any woman being able to make the kind of noises that were on that tape.

Since that time I have often thought of trying to make another EVP but I don't dare if the truth be told.

So that is my creepy story, take it for what you will.  Typing it all out and reading it again has actually scared the shit out of me.  To this day I believe that tape recorder captured the sound of a demon from somewhere else that decided it was time to scare the shit out the two of us.  







Incredible...thank you for sharing this. Demons are real---of this I have no doubt.


why do I always seem to read this thread at about 2am
Link Posted: 10/23/2013 1:34:05 PM EDT
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Originally Posted By Beamy:

why do I always seem to read this thread at about 2am
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It's the best time to read this thread.
Link Posted: 10/23/2013 2:45:32 PM EDT
Okay ill play. This is a picture supposedly taken by one of my co workers' friends. It was caught on his game camera on his property a few weeks ago. I do not personally know the source. Still creepy though........  


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