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OK. Thanks for the explanation. I was perfectly willing to think it might be real but embellished. People actually *do* vanish all the time. I am a member of a backpacking club that tests gear, and one of our testers vanished between his car and the first camp. Just *poof*. Never seen again. Here's a link: www.greatfallstribune.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080907/NEWS01/809070303 Shane |
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Mountain lion. Big cats are responsible for a LOT of disappearances in North America, Africa, and southeast Asia. In Vietnam, tigers were a real concern for patrols. A tiger would just appear from the bushes, crush your neck in its jaws before you had time to react, and drag your corpse into the bush, all within seconds. Your buddies MIGHT find your rifle or helmet where the tiger ambushed you, but that's usually all. ETA: I forget his name, and google fails me. One of America's first billionaire's was visiting Yellowstone National Park way back in the day. He was standing on the porch smoking a cigar one night, then stepped off the porch and was never seen again. Just vanished without a trace. |
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That's what I'm thinking too. He wasn't a very big guy, and it would have been easy for even a medium cat to take him. ![]()
I've never heard that one. Shane |
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The Cowman of Copalis Beach |
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I love these threads. Or maybe I hate them... I can't remember. Either way they keep me up at night. Is that good or bad? ![]() |
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here's on that was posted on the Fal Files board a few years ago that I saved:
FALaholic # 16051 Old Post October 14, 2006 18:09 Post #41 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 moles 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 Keiths famous line,"Hell,I was there" best regards, Mike M. edited FalFiler's last name and the paragraph breaks (to reflect how they were originally posted) only. |
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![]() You linked to one of those retarded "search" pages that try to sell you stuff. ETA: Googling it led to the story on a webpage with the same url, but when I click your link it redirects me. ![]() I also can't copy-paste any of the text on the page, which is utterly retarded. I'll see if I can find another website that isn't so weird so I can post the Cow Man story here. |
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Actually it sounds like the "1987 Short Story" explanation is a hoax (someone wrote that based on Ted's story, embellished it even more, pre-dated it, and posted it). In reality this was a story written by Ted himself about his real caving experience that he decided to heavily embellish with supernatural creepiness for fun. Here is a couple posts that I recovered off of a web forum about scary stories. The person on there had quoted it from another forum posting (I'm guessing the original one) but most of the links I'm finding are 404-Not Found. ![]()
The link to the National Parks Services map in the above quoted text is dead. The only live link I have found is to a PDF map of the actual caves. They are apparently right along a highway in Utah. It's a ".gov" link, so I seriously doubt it is a hoax. www.nps.gov/archive/tica/RMweb/MapGallery/InterstateMap.pdf I can't find the exact location, but the link above can be cut back to the Timpanogos Cave page on the NPS website. Must be in that area. www.nps.gov/tica I spent way too much time finding all this crap. What can I say, I'm a CJ major who is bothered by not having the truth behind everything. ![]() I'm going to keep digging, but I think what I've already posted is a reasonable explanation. So, now you know the rest of the story... ![]() |
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Got it. Here's the Cow Man story:
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Here is Lera's 1987 cave story if anyone wants to read it. It seems that this is in fact a rip off of the early 2000 story written by Ted. Someone just dated it 1987 to make it seem like it was the original.
web.archive.org/web/20050117173007/www.dougaustin.com/tlcaves/pdf/Thefearofdarkness.pdf |
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Fascinating. I now dub thee the Sherlock Holmes of Arfcom for such outstanding detective work. ![]() It was pretty obvious the cave in the story was real and the guy had actual caving experience, but all the twists and turns the story takes in real life (this guy claims to have written it, this guy claims he wrote it and that the other guy changed the ending, etc.) are hilarious. |
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I found the first page of the thread where the author of the story (Ted) posted. Unfortunately the archive doesn't have the page Ted actually posted on, but that text is quoted in my earlier post and I believe it to be accurate. There's a guy named Ralph E. Powers that posts on the first page of the thread (the only archived page), and you will notice he mentions mapping the cave. He IS credited by name on the second page of the National Parks Service map of the cave.
web.archive.org/web/20050502091828/http://www.caves.org/soapbox/printthread.php?t=646 The forum still exists...doesn't seem like a forum you'd find much trolling in... ![]() ![]() www.caves.org/grotto/slgrotto/phpbb2/index.php That's all I've got. It is now quite apparent that there is a ridiculous amount of information to be found on the internet and the answers to most everything can be found with some digging. ![]() Keep the creepy stories coming!!!! |
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That guys is wacko........I used to date a woman from Fouke. I called her the "Fouke Monster". Bitch could drink me under the table....... |
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Well, that's weird. <hauls ass and adds 'm' to url> |
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When I was 16 I worked in the kitchen at the hospital as an evening manager. At night everyone would leave by 9 except me. Between 9 and 11 I would sweep and mop all the floors. On average I would say about once a week I would hear what sounded like a girl calling my name. And atleast once swear I saw a young girl sitting at one of the tables. I only saw her for a split second, but it was creepy as hell.
Also the kitchen was right across the hall from the morgue. Funny thing is most people had no idea the morgue was right next to it. It was just a plain door with nothing written on it. |
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What, no more stories?
The one I posted about the Fal Filer is a true story (don't know if the guy is still active on that board though.) |
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It's night now. They're all too scared to read the thread while it's dark and the house is quiet.
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That's an awesome story. True or not, it gets my vote for the creepiest ever. ![]() Thanks for sharing it again. |
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We gotta get some classic creepy in here.
So why not some H.P. Lovecraft, who along with his circle of writer friends, basically started the modern horror genre? The Colour Out of Space- Creepy as fuck. At The Mountains of Madness The Call of Cthulhu The Music of Erich Zann- A shorter story for those who have the attention span of a goldfish. Pickman's Model- Another fairly short one. The twist ending is cliche now, but back then it was quite original. The Whisperer in Darkness- As close as a 1930's sci-fi/horror story is going to get to the Arfcom ideal. |
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That Cow Man story was creepy. As I read it I started thinking about the dark woods behind my house & nothing but a screen door separating my bedroom from whatever is out there
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Well, to get this thread going again I'll post this.
I wrote this a while ago and is part of a larger story about two modern guys exploring a dangerous and unexplored canyon in the American Southwest when they stumble upon something devious. There is also a subplot (which partially shows up here) dealing with the main character and his past. Anyways, here ya go. Not overly creepy, but hey, creepy enough when you read it in a dark room. Partially inspired by the Skinwalker thread and my time down in the Southwest. ---------------------------------------------------- A Night In Shadow Canyon “Bright is the moon high in starlight Chill in the air cold as steel tonight We shift call of the wind Fear in your eyes It's later than you realized” “Do you feel like we’re being watched?” Oscar stopped in the shuffled dust and peered up at the canyon rim as Jim continued on. The sun sat directly overhead, beaming down into the cramped little canyon, the red sandstone walls acting like conductors, absorbing and spewing heat, seemingly cooking the travelers in a natural oven. “I always get that feeling when I’m hiking by myself. When you’re alone and away from human contact your internal persona plays tricks on you. Don’t worry, you’ll get use to it.” “Dang, this place gives me the creeps. It seems unnatural. Is it always like that when you go hiking?” “Every time. Each canyon is strange and mysterious the first time you get down into it. It’s unsettling, the rock walls rising up so high. Unsettling.” Late afternoon slowly turned to evening and the setting sun began to lower behind the canyon walls, casting shadows on the hikers hours before the true sunset. The hot, stale canyon air soon disappeared thanks to a cooling breeze that quietly whistled along the canyon floor. Shadows slowly swallowed the eastern wall of the canyon as the sun sank lower with each passing minute, warning Jim of the swiftly oncoming night. Finding a large and mostly flat spot on the slick rock high above the sandy canyon floor, Jim stopped and called it a night. Oscar brought up the rear, still sweating from the intense hike under the frying afternoon sun. A coyote howled nearby, perking Jim’s senses of his surroundings. He hadn’t heard that long forgotten and to him friendly sound for many years since he moved to Chicago to advance his career. Oscar, having never been on a long hike in the Southwest, thought the howl eerie and queer. It was the sound of human absence. Nearly 100 miles away from another human being or even a sign of human existence, the two men were at the mercy of the desert and the mysteries that lurked in its impenetrable shadows. “Don’t go wandering out of sight of the camp,” Jim called back to Oscar. “I don’t want anything happening to either of us.” Light from the fire flickered on the canyon walls just as it had 1,000 years before in canyons across the desert lands of the Four Corner area. Two good-sized tents sat on the slick rock, closely straddling the fire. The companions lounged just inside the tents’ doorways and occasionally threw more sticks and branches to the hungry fire, keeping it alive to warding off the ancient shadows. Few words had been spoken as the day of hiking slowly sank into the men’s minds, the sights and sounds overloading the hearts of both newbie and veteran hiker alike. Several coyotes howled nearby, instilling in the men a feeling of primitivism. The only sounds that broke the silence of the dark canyon was the snapping of burning wood and the now numerous howls of coyotes that seemed to grow ever closer. Jim felt uneasy about these most recent howls. He had heard many similar howls on his earlier hikes throughout the Southwest but never so many at one time in one place. Jim knew that coyotes with little or no human contact, while curious, will not venture too close to unknown and perhaps dangerous humans. These howls were different, different in sound and power. The legends about missing hikers swirled in his head like so many forgotten nightmares. Oscar’s words broke in upon Jim’s darkening thoughts. “Jim, this is all new and exciting to me. A bit unsettling, perhaps. I’ve never ventured into the wild before and I can’t help but think about what it must have been like here thousands of years ago. It must have been like this, though without the modern conveniences we have today. Those people we’re searching for evidence of, they were just like us. Or we are just like them. The same mental capacity, the same bodies and the same physical abilities. The only difference between us and them is time. If you were to take me and put me back then I would become just as they were. Makes you wonder why we are here now instead of back then or another time period for that matter. They probably thought the same thing about their predecessors.” Jim nodded as he stared into the dancing flames before him, entranced by the colors and tones leaping into the air, shooting up dying embers of dry twigs. Oscar continued with his monologue, “That’s one of the great questions of history, I guess. How and why does time affect humans? Time brings development, ideas, understanding and new problems all at the same time. And while the specific developments and problems are different than the past, the struggle for survival stays the same. Do you think people of the future will search for our ruins just like we’re searching for the Anasazi?” Jim sat back and stared at the sky, searching for stars and constellations that he learned during his childhood. The light from the dying fire blanked out all but the brightest stars in the sky. “No,” Jim said grimly. “I’m afraid no one in the future will be looking for our ruins. If we leave any ruins at all it means we failed so miserably that there’ll be no one left to do the searching.” The fire had completely died out as Jim poured earth over the glowing remains. A common occurrence in the desert, the temperature dropped quickly once the sun had finished its deathly hot arc across the sky. Oscar said goodnight and zipped closed the flap door of his tent as Jim wiggled into his tight but warm womblike sleeping bag. A painful poking sensation on his hip reminded him that he was still carrying the handgun, which he removed from the holster and placed off to the side of the tent, still cocked for quick use if any threat should appear during the night. The darkness of the wilderness closed in and Jim sat silently in his tent, succumbing to the depressing and frightening thoughts that had began earlier. Memories raced through his mind. A loving face slipping away. A tight and warm embrace slipping away into nothingness. A happy childhood suddenly extinguished by tragedy flashed in his mind, unnerving him and pouring on a surge of emotions. A few tears secreted in his eyes and slowly ran down his stony face before it began to shudder. Sadness and anger and a feeling of abandonment controlled him, wracking his body and flinging his shoulders uncontrollably back as he silently let his sorrow out, dripping onto the tent floor. An arm unconsciously moved up to his head and, though his own, an unfamiliar hand quickly moved through his dark and greasy hair. Jim’s throat clicked as his lips opened and contorted and his body violently shook. After several minutes of this physically and emotionally tiring activity he calmed himself down, the tears drying on his down turned face. The sadness, though now slowly lifting, held onto a part of Jim and made him quietly speak under his breath, lest he wake Oscar. “Father.” Dirty hands dried the tears before rapidly shaking his equally dirty hair in an attempt to calm his spirit. Eventually the upset demon within his soul subsided and he was able to think clearly and prepare himself for bed. Though he felt childish for his sudden breakdown, relief rushed over him and he was content. Zipping closed the tent flap and hoping he had not woken his slumbering partner, Jim noted how dark the canyon was compared to those he had experienced on earlier outings. “No wonder they call it Shadow Canyon.” The dream started out far more pleasant than it abruptly ended though it soon faded from memory as he awoke, slipping the bonds of his mind. A gnawing feeling hung over him as the dream progressed, as if he was being watched. The details of the dream were lost as soon as he opened his eyes, greeted by complete darkness, but the feeling still lingered, stronger now in semi-consciousness than it had been in the dream. Fear gripped Jim. Not a primal fear of the dark and the unseen but a certain deathly dread that someone or something unknown to him was intimately watching, stalking him as he peacefully lay in the tent. Ever so slowly he tipped his head up to peer around the tent, making sure everything was as it should be in an attempt to calm his nerves. Slowly moving his eyes passed the little window in the opposite wall of the tent, Jim spotted something unnatural. Only the darkness of the canyon came through the window, that is except for two shining red eyes that pierced the shadows. The fiery eyes, never blinking nor changing, fixed upon Jim as his face grew from an expression of sleepiness to one of frightened wonder. Stars visible through the window soon disappeared as the fire in the eyes blazed with the Fury of Hell. The eyes seemed to come closer, growing larger until they appeared to be in the tent. Jim was helpless, unable to do anything but stare as the eyes came toward him. Only the howl of a forlorn coyote momentarily broke the silent terror, sending Jim diving toward his handgun. By the time he had found it in the darkness and turned back toward the window the Hell Eyes were gone, leaving him alone and wondering if they had merely been part of his lingering dream. Having pondered the vision and unsuccessfully waited for the thing to return, he laid the gun back in its original position, clamped his eyelids shut and curled up tight in his sleeping bag, hoping what he could not see would not hurt him. Sleep did not come to Jim for the rest of the night. |
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You reposted my fog encounter! I was scared shitless when that happened.
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In the scary stuff thread last year there was a supposedly true story that happened to a member here about some creature staring at him while he had to guard tanks or something so he freaked out & ended up getting into one of the tanks to be safe from it.
Does anyone have that story saved or know what Im talking about? |
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My scout master told me a story once about the time he was stationed in Alaska. M was a ordanance loader on fighter craft. They always had several fighters on the line in case the Russians decided to start WWIII. Their primary mission was to bring down any bombers headed into our airspace. Since that made their base a prime target for commandos, they had a good perimeter with several checkpoints before you got to the base.
One of the middle check points was in a wooded area out by itself. It was basically a shack with no lights next to the road between the outer fence and the inner fence manned by a single guard with a radio. One night they heard a gunshot go off. Followed by a long full auto burst. And another. And another. And another. Then single gunshots. All the guard shacks reported in except this one. Out rolls an armed response team ready to fight the invading Rooskis all pumped with adrenaline and armed to the teeth. At the same time the emergency F16s are tearing down the runway and the flight crews, jolted out of sleep, are prepping and launching every bird they can. WWIII is here. Oh shit... The rescue team gets to the shack and there's no sign of trouble. Or the guard. They light up the shack and and see him sitting inside. His M16 is on the floor, empty and he's surrounded by empty magazines. There's a .38 in his hand and he's got it pointed at the back of shack pulling the trigger over and over again. You can hear a loud CLICK CLICK, CLICK, CLICK because he's already fired off his last round. The back of the shack is riddled with bullet holes and he's raging incoherently about "They're coming for me. They're coming for me." Nothing was found anywhere nearby They disarm him and get him back to the base. After some good meds he calms down enough to get out this story. He'd been sitting in the shack for a few hours and had heard a noise coming from the back. He turned around and flipped on his flashlight. The entire back of the shack had hundreds of small hands poking through it. Each looked like a small child's, but they didn't have the right number of fingers and they were pitch black. Not black like a man who has dark skin but PITCH BLACK. The demons were coming for him, so he opened up with everything he had. Needless to say, the doctors locked him up and kept him under observation until they could get him some psychological help. And they called the fighters back.. . We would all live another day. The story starts to circulate around and M hears it. It sounds familiar to him and he tells his commander. His commander calls the base commander and they send M out the look around. He walks behind the shack and just nods, Turns out the guard was a city boy who had never been in the woods before. Alone in the dark he hadn't recognized the hands reaching for him. But M, from rural Arkansas, knew what they were. And the Raccoon prints everywhere behind the shack confirmed it. Someone must have been feeding them through the wall. They were used to reaching in and pulling out some treat. So when that poor, scared city boy turned on his flashlight there was that raccoon hand. Which looks like a human hand. Only smaller and with fewer fingers. It would be funny if it hadn't ended up with a discharged, neurotic airman and hadn't almost started WWIII. |
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I'm surfing a paranormal/creepy board and they've got a similar thread going. Most of it is very, very lame, and none are "true" stories of encounters with ghosts or bigfoot, just stuff like that story I posted about the boy with the photo of the girl.
Rather than just posting a link and forcing you to read all that crap, I'll post the good ones. ![]()
Aren't psychopaths fun? ![]() ![]()
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I remember that one. Another poster had a story about spending the night in a Bradley and very clearly hearing the one next to his starting up. He scrambled out and it was nothing but dead silence. No engines running, and nobody near the vehicles. He'd climb back inside and start reading or something and hear it start up again. Did it several times, but every time he stuck his head out, no running vehicles and no people. Creeped him out. |
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Yeah that was pretty good. |
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You should be ashamed for posting such a terrible photoshop. ![]() Ok folks, I'm going to bed now. Pleasant dreams, all. ![]() |
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3:35 and now I can't sleep because of this thread, tagged for later. Maybe an extra gun on the nightstand will help
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Read this one a while ago, thought I'd share.
---------------------------------------------- I am currently sitting in front of my computer, scared witless. Any moment now I am going to be killed. Today a friend of mine told me a story. His aunt had taken care of him since he was a small boy, and she told him last night about how his parents died. He did a very fair imitation of her (I knew them both pretty well): “They were doing mission work in some nasty little south american country when a man burst into the mission hospital one night, terrified out of his mind. He told them that his sister had been killed by a Muerto blanco, and that he was certain that it was coming for him next. What is a Muerto blanco? Apparently it was some sort of bogey-man, something like that dumb chupacabra or whatever. They called it the White Death or the White Girl, because it was the soul of someone who hated life so much that they came back in their shrouds to kill those who told of them. The man had been told about the vengeful spirit by his sister hours before her death. It was a girl with dead, black eyes that wept bile. The thing moved without ever actually moving its legs, and it stalked its victims back to their homes. Now, if you weren’t already aware that this thing was following you, once it got back to your house, it would start knocking on your door… * Once for you skin, which she’ll use to patch her own decaying flesh. * Twice for your muscle, which she’ll gnash her teeth on between victims. * Thrice for your bones, which she’ll make knives to pick her teeth and kill her victims. * Four times for your heart, which she’ll wear around her neck. * Five times for your teeth, which she’ll polish and keep in a box. * Six times for your eyes, which she’ll see the faces of your loved ones through. * Seven times for your soul, which she’ll eat whole - you can never pass while you’re in her stomach. She has to repeat this on any mirror or door between you and her. You can try to outrun her, but she’s faster than the fastest man. And if you leave your home while she’s knocking on your door, she won’t be so courteous when she catches up to you. Now the man was certain that this thing had killed his sister, that he had tried to tell the police, but they would not listen. Next he had tried to tell his priest, but the priest turned him away when he saw that the thing was following him now - oh, that’s right, I forgot about that - it can only get you if you tell someone else about it, or you saw it kill someone else. The man, after finishing his tale, stole a car from the mission, and was never seen again. Apparently his mother and father had immediately called his aunt about this when it happened. They were found in the morning, skinned and dismembered. Their bodies were covered in tiny, child-like handprints. His aunt was really drunk the night before, and had told him about that. He told me this story early in the morning today at school, before the cops arrived. His aunt had been murdered that night. I called him later that night, and he told me that he was being chased by someone, and now they were knocking on his door. I told him to stop shitting me. He held the phone away from his face for a minute, and I could hear slow, deliberate knocking. A moment later, I heard the door rip from its hinges and the dying screams of my friend. Then a little girl’s voice spoke over the line: “WITNESS.” I hung up. Three minutes ago someone started knocking on my door. She has to knock 28 times on my front door, 28 times on the mirror in the hall, and another 28 times on the door to my bedroom. She’s doing it slowly… I think she wants to scare me some more, let me know that my death is just moments away. I will not run - I couldn’t get to my car in time anyway. She started knocking on my bedroom door a minute ago, she should be done any moment. Nice knowing you guys, it’s been funjklm,.- WITNESS |
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Ive got two and only one good one. But its dark right now. Its about to be daylight. Ive read every story posted or linked so far and im flippin out. Ill post mine tomorrow. One is about livin with my grandmother, the other is the day i thought i was losing my mind. Damn good stuff here. My last ounce of courage will go to the creepy pic thread.
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Yeah i just got back from the creepy pic thread. FUCK! THAT! SHIT!
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Only thing that I would say that was inexplicably frightening happened at my grandfather's farm probably 6 years ago.
My grandfather passed away, and he lived in the middle of nowhere. His farm was honestly more of a field now, because he couldn't really do anything at his age (80 something at the time.) So all that remained was a torn up old barn with chipped off red paint and a horrible roller door that sounded like a cat being killed when it was opened. At anyrate, I was contemplating buying the house. It was a victorian looking house, well kept all things considered. 2 stories plus a basement. My girlfriend and myself went out there to look around and stay awhile while we decided what we'd do with it. We drove around there on a Saturday morning, looked around, made sure all the electric and water was fine. I looked into the barn, it was filled with old stuff and a super deep hole I think at one time was a storm shelter. When I closed the door, it made the god awful screech that made your hair stand up on end. When the sunset, my girl and I retired to the living room and watched a movie and then went to bed. Around midnight or so, my girlfriend woke me up saying she heard something. I sat up a bit, and sure as shit, I heard that awful screech of the barn door. I couldn't get a view of the barn from the upstairs window, so I waited to see if I could hear anything else, which I didn't. Around 3am, I get shot out of sleep by my girlfriend screaming her flipping head off downstairs, she comes bolting up like a fucking lightening bolt flies into the room, slams the door, screaming incoherently. She said she went to the bathroom, and *something* is downstairs. I grabbed an old Mossberg 500 I'd brought and sat up, now equally terrified. After spending what felt like hours, but really only 15 minutes listening, I didn't hear a thing. My girlfriend suggested I check it out, which I wasn't particularly fond of doing, but I did know teenagers had used the house at least once since my grandfather passed, so I figured I'd take a looksy. I went down the stairs and stood on the last one listening, still couldn't hear anything. So I made my way down the narrow hallway towards the kitchen. When I got to the kitchen, I suddenly got a terrible feeling, and that's when I heard some sort of clicking behind me. I turned just in time to see something gigantic in the hallway, I swear it looked 8 foot tall, but the thing was it was so dark I could only make out that it had legs and a head. Then it fucking charged, or at very least moved aggressively forward. I pulled up the Mossberg, fired once then ran into the dining room and slammed the door. I could hear the fucker coming down the hall, luckily the dining room connected to the other side of the hallway where the stairs were, so I made a mad dash out the other side in time to hear the first door smash open. I ran up the stairs with speed I'd never before imagined (I'm a big guy,) and tripped in the doorway falling flat on my face in the bedroom, and actually broke my nose. My girlfriend slammed the door behind me. My eyes were watering like a motherfucker from my nose, and I was trembling so bad I could barely stand. I finally got the gusto to shove a dresser in front of the door. It was dead silent for another hour, until I heard furniture being moved around in the bottom floor, sounded like it was being shoved against the wall. Then, I heard footsteps on the stairs, but they sounded more like someone walking on crutches. They moved in front of the door, at which point I shouted a warning that I was going to shoot through it. I put another round of 000 buck through the door at chest height and listened. No sound. Nothing. But the the hole it made was so dark I had to move something in front of it because I was paranoid something was looking back at me. Next morning, we left and I will never go back. No clue what my shitbag uncles did with the place. I have pictures of the wall I blasted from my uncle who thought it was hilarious, I will post them tomorrow when I get back on my PC. Was it a monster? Probably not. I suspect it was kids or something, with my imagination playing tricks on me. I lost a lot of my hearing in my right ear from the gun and this event caused my night terrors to return, which had been gone for a long damn time, and typing it out even still makes my blood run cold. |
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So, yeah. I had an interesting dream last night.
In it, my roommate woke me up (he's usually up hours before I am when I don't have class) and told me that he was really weirded out because there was nobody else around. The entire campus was totally devoid of people. I thought he'd inhaled fumes from the janitor's closet or something, but I got up anyway (I was hungry) and, sure enough, we encountered no people on the way to the cafeteria. Which didn't have breakfast set out. Now this was bizarre. We went back to the dorm and it was absolutely silent inside. No one in the security office, no one in the RA office, and nobody walking around in the halls. Dead silence. So we started calling people we knew on campus on our cell phones. Not one answer. Then we began calling friends and relatives back home. No answers. We went back to our room and I logged into AIM, Skype, etc. and got on Arfcom. No posts are 7:34 AM. I started a new thread about how bizarre it was that nobody was around here and nobody would answer my phone. An hour later, and still nobody else had posted on any of the forums. There were still people logged in, but they obviously weren't at the keyboard. My roommate then tried his handheld ham radio. Nobody on the airwaves either. Television? Nothing on but static. Same for the radio in my car, except one station playing a commercial on endless loop. Seriously. Fucking. Creepy. So I retrieved my pistol from my trunk and we drove into town. No people. Anywhere. Cars sitting in the middle of the road, still running, nobody in them. By this time, I was in full SHTF mode, so I pulled into Wal-Mart and told my roommate to grab a cart; we were going looting. While we were gathering the essentials of survival (food; propane to cook with, etc.), we discussed the weirdness and sheer creepiness of what was going on. My theory was that everyone else had mysteriously vanished, but we were safe for some reason and the reason we were both there was because we were in the same room when it happened. His theory was that we both got transported to a world that was identical to ours but devoid of people. I pointed out the flaws in that one (if there were no people, then there wouldn't be man-made stuff, and why would there be cars sitting in traffic with the engines running?). I made sure to grab ammunition while I was in Wal-Mart, but left the guns alone. They were locked in plexi-glas display cases and essentially useless Fudd guns anyway. We threw everything into the car, then I drove to the biggest gun shop in town and started a smash-and-grab, filling up three duffle bags with rifles, shotguns, pistols, and ammunition. My roommate thought I was nuts. There weren't any people, so what did I need a gun for? More importantly, why would I need a small arsenal like that? And better still, if the world returned to normal the next morning, I'd be getting in serious trouble for stealing a shit-load of guns and ammo. I told him to blow it out his ass; this was a seriously fucking BAD situation and I wanted guns. We went back to campus, ate breakfast, and I loaded up some guns. Despite his talk about not needing a weapon, my roommate was creeped out too, so he took a pistol and stuck it in a holster on his belt. I carried two handguns and a rifle. Then we took his pickup truck back to Wal-Mart to load it up with food and other essentials so we could minimize the amount of traveling around we had to do. I'd pointed out that if things stayed this way, we'd eventually run out of gas or it would go bad, and it was going to be darn hard carrying all that food on foot. Neither of us liked being out in the open either, it felt like we were being watched. While we were in Wal-Mart, something interrupted our looting by knocking over a display on the other side of the store and making a lot of noise. I nearly shit a brick. We left our carts full of stuff and went to investigate, weapons ready. We found a small display over in electronics that had been knocked over and all the DVD's on it scattered, but no other signs of anything or anyone being there. We called out to anyone who might be inside, but no answer. No sound, except for us. We decided it must be an animal that got inside since the doors opened automatically and there were open entry-ways at the auto-mechanics section and where the guys pushed the shopping carts into the store. Cautiously, we made our way back to where we left the carts full of food and other supplies. They were facing the opposite direction. Now thoroughly wigged out, we grabbed the cart's and hauled ass out of the store, ready to shoot anything that moved. We threw everything into the bed of his truck, shoved the carts so they went flying through the parking lot, and took off for the dorm. It took seemingly forever to get everything upstairs, and obviously we couldn't fit all that shit in our tiny dorm room, but I lifted the master keys from the RA's office (partly because I wanted access to every room in the building, partly because I didn't want anyone- or anything- else to have a key to our room. We dumped most of the stuff in the room across from ours and sat down to have lunch. While eating, we discussed what had been in Wal-Mart. My roommate was convinced it was an animal. I thought it was a person trying to fuck with us. Unresolved, we let the issue drop while we planned out what we would do in a world apparently devoid of people. I checked Arfcom again; still no new posts. Or views. Or anything, really. Fuck. We decided to continue gathering supplies while trying to find signs of people like us, operating on the assumption that there HAD to be other people, we just didn't know how to get hold of them and vice-versa. While out and about, we stopped by the local ham radio store so we could get a rig with decent range and try to contact someone. Neither of us knew anything about that shit, so we just grabbed a bunch of stuff, made sure it all came with manuals, and loaded it into the car. While doing so, I spotted something gray moving out of the corner of my eye. Whirling around, I saw nothing. It went around the corner of a building, out of sight. I hissed at my roommate that I'd seen something, and he started shouting in that direction, trying to get the attention of any person over there. No response. After a few minutes, he decided I was seeing things because I was so keyed up. I told him to go fuck himself. We continued grabbing things we'd need to survive (food, gas, different means of communication, etc.), and started back to campus. While unloading all the stuff, I spotted something gray moving at the other end of campus and said so. My roommate looked, saw nothing, and told me to knock it off because I was creeping him out now. We continued unloading things into the lobby and then he started cussing and said that he saw it too. Neither of us knew what it was, but now it knew where we lived. I wanted to get plywood so we could cover over the first floor windows, especially in the lobby, but neither of us wanted to leave since the lobby doors locked electronically and only after 7pm. If we left, the thing or person could get inside and hide somewhere and we'd never know it. So we got all our stuff inside, grabbed some rope I'd snagged at Wal-Mart, and tied it around the handles to the lobby doors and attached the other end to heavy furniture. It wouldn't stop the glass from being smashed, but it'd slow down and irritate anyone trying to open the doors. We got all our stuff upstairs, barricaded one stairwell, then I handed my roommate a rifle and we cleared the entire building, one room at a time. Satisfied there was nothing there, we barricaded the other stairwell to make it difficult for anyone to get into it. We then finished the job by making the other stairwell completely impassable by shoving desks and other furniture into it until it was completely blocked all the way up to the second floor. I mentioned the skylights in both stairwells and my roommate said it was impossible for anyone to get on the roof, but we barricaded the stairwells on our floor too, just in case. With that, we settled in for the night and continued trying to get hold of someone, anyone. Then we heard the noises, like metal blinds rustling in the wind, or someone trying to whistle and doing a terrible job of it. We looked outside, but couldn't see anything. It got dead silent outside when we peeked through the blinds. I surmised that whatever or whoever was out there could see us looking out and told my roommate to turn off the lights. Then I looked out again. Still nothing, and no sound. Not even crickets. After a while of staring though, I saw movement, near the roof of the science building directly across from us. I looked, but couldn't see anything. Then my roommate spotted them. The eyes. Red eyes, looking at us from the roof of the science building. Very dim, but obviously luminescent. Looking at it, I was eventually able to discern a humanoid shape, crouched spider-like on the roof. It was looking directly at us. My roommate grabbed a powerful flashlight we'd picked up and shined it at the roof to get a better look at the thing. Nothing was there. He turned it off and the eyes were back, blinking rapidly as if they were watering from the sudden light. Now we were seriously freaking out. It started scaling the wall, head first, toward the ground, slowly and casually. That's it. I slid on my shooting headphones, told my roommate to cover his ears, and opened the window. Sticking the barrel of the AR-10 we'd "procured" from the sporting goods store against the screen, I yelled "yippee-ki-yay motherfucker!" and did a magazine dump at the eyes. I don't know if I hit it or not, but when we looked, the eyes were gone, the science building had several huge chunks blown out of the brick wall, and our window screen was very, very sorry that it belonged to a pair of frightened and confused college seniors. That's about the time my phone range and woke me up, so I have no idea where the dream would have gone from there. Whadda ya think guys, kinda creepy, huh? ![]() |
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