Creepy Stuff

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Realistic Venom

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The Ultrasound (part 2)

During my last trimester we were working on the nursery.. we were happy as could be. We decided we wanted a home birth. "Are you sure babe?" Mike said when I told him. "Yes" I replied "I think it would be less traumatic for all of us." I said rubbing my belly. Later that night I went into labor. I woke up in something wet and sticky. I was in horrible pain. "M-mike!" I said shaking him. "W-what?!" He said sitting up. "Call the midwife!" I said grasping my belly in pain. He immediately got up and ran to the phone saying "Oh god..." I waited trying to turn on the light. I Finally got the light on and ripped the blankets off myself and sat up. I looked down and gasped...I was sitting in a puddle of blood. I screamed for Mike beginning to cry. He Ran in and said she was on her way and would be here as soon as she could. I pointed to the blood crying, he turned pale and picked me up "y-your okay baby..." he said walking to the bathroom and drawing a bath. He layed my still clothed body into the warm water and held my hand. When she finally arrive my contractions were at least 1 minute apart. Mike called out to her saying we were in the bathroom. This is where things got fuzzy.... I constantly was drifting in and out of consciousness. All I remember is Mike and the midwife calling my name and pulling me out of the water. When I woke up I was being put in the bed by Mike and the midwife was putting something on a towel and drying it off. I was in different clothes than I remembered. "Oh! She's up!" Mike said smiling and rubbing my arm. The midwife came over holding something in a blanket, slightly frowning. "Well..." she said "he's slightly..." she paused "deformed." I looked up at them and said "I want to see my baby.." she set it in my arms...then I pulled back the blankets and gasped. What I saw would stay with me forever..he had an odd color off skin...grayish. when I looked at his head, two black stumps were formed. Mike saw them, too. and looked concerned. "He's healthy, but just a little deformed..." she said. I smiled. He was perfect in my eyes...We named him Luke. As he got older I noticed his eyes were a Orange and yellow type color..his pupils were always small..kind of like slits. A few days later, I let Mike watch Luke so I could go shopping without people staring at him. Luke was, oddly, a very fast learner and wasn't much of a new born anymore. The once black stumps were now sharp and longer. We had to file then down every month. Mike could surely take care of him, right? A few hours later I finally got home "Hellooo?" I called out, walking in. I heard a screech like cry. I ran in, to find Mike on the floor, his head surrounded in a puddle of blood. I dropped to my knees and stared at him. Luke was playing in his blood, I grabbed him and called 911. He died later that night in the hospital. The Autopsy showed that he had poison in his system and that he had something stuck in his head... a toy block. They thought he might've fallen on it...but that didn't explain the poison. I started living with his parents. His mom was talking to Luke and playing with him "what am I? I am grandma. Grandma. Can you say gggraanndma? What am I?" She said in a loud cheerful voice. "Next!" Luke shouted happily

[creepyorb]

/6/6/3/5/8/MOON

I bought a new phone earlier today. Ever since then my life has taken a weird turn and I don’t know what to make of it so I’m just going to write it all out. Maybe someone else can make sense of all this.After I bought the phone, the first thing I did was plug it in to charge. By the time I went to bed, it was at 100%. As I lay in bed with the lights off, I decided to play around with it before going to sleep. I turned it on, squinting in the dark against the bright screen. As soon as it booted up, it began to ring.I jumped, the sudden noise jerking me into alertness. I stared at the screen, confused. The incoming number read: /6/6/3/5/8/MOONHaving never seen anything like it, and with the phone still chirping in my hand, I slowly put it to my ear and answered.“Hello?”At first it was just a white wash of static. It hummed in my ear like a swarm of angry bees. And then I began to hear a voice.It was deep and sounded slightly robotic. As I pressed my ear to the receiver, I noticed the voice was saying the same thing over and over again.“There’s death on the surface. There’s death on the surface. There’s death on the surface…” On every third loop, I’d hear something in the background, between sentences. It was this PING, like a radar, followed by someone yelling angrily over static.Dumbfounded, I lowered the phone and disconnected the call.What the hell? What was that all about? Just as the screen dimmed, it suddenly lit up again. I had received a text message. It was from the same odd jumble of numbers and letters: /6/6/3/5/8/MOONHesitantly, I opened the text. It was a picture.I squinted and enlarged the image. It looked like it was taken at night, outside somewhere. The screen was black except for three blurry orbs of blue light hovering in the distance. They were slightly spaced apart and in no discernible formation.Below the image were four words: Beware the blue lights.I closed the phone and placed it on the bed beside me. I felt uneasy in the darkness. It was all just so strange. What was all this? I rolled over and stared at the wall. Maybe I’d return the phone in the morning or ask them to change my number. Wrong numbers were bad enough, but this was just weird.Suddenly, the phone began to ring again.I snatched it up and blinked against its bright display. Same number.“Hello?” I barked, an edge in my voice.Again that robotic low voice: “There’s death on the surface. There’s death on the surface. There’s death on the surface.”Right as I was about to hang up, something changed. The voice stopped and was replaced by the sound of heavy breathing. I listened for a couple seconds, the sound loud in my ear.“Is someone there?” I asked cautiously.The breathing suddenly stopped, a sharp pull of air.Then, “You can hear me?” the voice was thin and sounded very far away.“Who the hell is this?” I demanded.A garble of static, then yelling, the same voice still sounding very far away, “St-…way…from the blue - ” the call disconnected as white noise overwhelmed the line.“What the fuck,” I muttered, sitting up. I realized my heart was racing.My phone chirped, announcing a new text. I paused. The number was different. This one read: /6/6/3/5/8/REZI wiped my sweaty palms on the sheets and opened up the text. It was another picture.And when I saw it, my breath died on my lips.It was a picture of my apartment building. Beneath the picture was one word in all caps: STOPI sprang from the bed and raced to my window. I peered out into the darkness, a trickle of sweat running down my spine. Was someone out there watching me? Why? What was happening?My phone rang from the bed. I turned and saw its light between a tangle of sheets. I walked over and picked it up. It was from the first number: /6/6/3/5/8/MOONShould I ignore it? Who was so desperately trying to reach out to me?I shot a glance at the window and answered, “Who is this? Are you watching me?”A wave of static and then that same thin voice, distant across the line, “Get…me…out…of…here…” the man was taking deep breaths between words, like he was in pain. I heard something bang around followed by the PING noise three or four times. Then the voice returned.“Please…you have to help me,” His voice rose and fell, like it was being filtered through some kind of machine. I heard a hiss of steam through the static and then the PING returned.“Where are you? What is going on?” I asked, trying to stay in control of my voice.The voice was so far away now that I had to close my eyes and focus all my concentration to hear.“I’m...I’m by the lights…”He was cut off and my ears filled with the familiar robotic loop: “There’s death on the surface. There’s death on the surface. There’s death on the surface.”I hung up. I stood in the darkness, sweating. I knew what was coming next.New text message from /6/6/3/5/8/REZI didn’t want to look at it, but morbid curiosity got the best of me.It was another picture.I brought the phone to my face, the image dark and blurry. When I realized what it was, I stumbled back against the wall, heart slamming into my chest, my eyes wide.It was a picture of me, taken seconds ago, standing in the middle of my bedroom in the dark.It looked like it had been taken from my closet.I tore my eyes from the screen to my closet door and saw that it was cracked slightly. I could feel something watching me from the slit of darkness and I was paralyzed with overwhelming fear. My mind screamed at me with furious urgency to get away, but I couldn’t move.Suddenly, a blue flash erupted from the slit of darkness and I sank to my knees, gasping for air. I felt a presence leave the room, a rush of energy that had been holding me in place.I turned on the lights and immediately powered down my phone. I grabbed my car keys and bolted from my apartment.I drove to the nearest hotel, got a room, and have locked myself inside.I’m sitting now on the side of my bed. The phone is on the small coffee table across the room. It’s still off. I haven’t dared turn it back on. I keep thinking I see flashes of blue light in the sky, but it might just be my paranoia.I don’t know what was in my room and I don’t want to find out. I just have to keep the phone off…Oh…fuck…It’s ringing again.

[creepyorb]

Frozen in time

Everyone always told me I was the most normal teenager with the most abnormal past. I wouldn’t disagree, per se. I know my upbringing was nontraditional at best.Before I got put into the foster system at age 12, I lived in a community of Romani people who practiced a special, homebrewed type of witchcraft. It centered mainly on a secret language that had been hidden for centuries and was controlled by the leaders of the community. With that language, they could make almost anything happen. At least it seemed like that at the time.It was sort of a lawless community, but I still went to a school (and my education was actually to par with the schools I was placed after I went into the foster care system), and I did other relatively normal things.The one, overarching rule in the community was that everyone got one wish. It was a strange, sort of convoluted concept, but at age 10, every person got to make one wish that the head sorceress would try her hardest to grant. The wish needed to be very specific in order to work correctly, and that’s where most people got screwed, as at age 10 it was hard to focus past the point of getting a wish granted. It didn’t always work, and sometimes the wish got a little distorted during the process. There were some limits, but for the most part, you could ask for whatever you wanted.I wanted to freeze time. My wish was definitely granted, and all I had to do was think about freezing time and it would stop. The only problem was that once time was frozen, I couldn’t change anything. If I tried to grab something or make contact with someone, my hand would pass right through whatever I wanted to touch. Essentially, I became a ghost in a snapshot of a moment. This was fine for the most part, as I still got what I wanted and it still came in handy when I wanted to use it.But, it did come with its problems. I didn’t really realize some of them until today.As a senior in an American high school now, I was surprisingly reasonably well adjusted. I was moved to a foster system in America at age 12 and brought up through the school system. I wouldn’t say I was part of the popular crowd, but I wasn’t the “lowest of the low” either. I had friends from each group in the school, and clicked with almost everyone I talked to, but I was pretty reserved and not as outgoing as most kids. I had a witty sense of humor, and I think that got me in with people I wouldn’t usually have gotten in with. But, I also had a swollen sense of empathy. Coming from a strange background, I understood the nuances of peoples’ lives that might lead them down an abnormal or bizarre path. So, I was friends with some of the “weirdo” kids too.This morning, Derek and Evan, who would both fit into that group, stopped me in the hallway. I was on my way to pre-calculus, which I had with them first hour.“Hey, don’t go to class today,” Derek said, placing a hand on my chest somewhat sternly, stopping me in my place. His face emanated such a strange aura. He seemed completely calm, but somehow also heart-poundingly nervous. Evan reiterated his sentiment.I gave them a side-eyed look to inquire why they felt I shouldn’t go to class.“I’m serious,” Derek said again in a voice lower and quieter than he usually spoke.“Are we skipping together? Do you guys want to go somewhere?” I asked, relatively cluelessly, with one eyebrow raised slightly in a somewhat puzzled look.“No, just don’t go,” Derek repeated. Evan, who had barely said a word, was visibly sweating.I thought maybe it was some sort of protest, as Derek and Evan had talked at length recently about how much they disliked the school. They hated many of the teachers, who they thought enabled students who had bullied them, and they did get bullied pretty harshly. They even sat down with the principle to discuss some recent incidents, but they felt they were largely ignored. I guess they sort of just felt that way in general. Just the other day someone threw a bag of flour out the window of their truck at the two while they walked to school. It hit Evan and exploded, covering the two in powder.Derek shook his head as they walked away in the opposite direction of the classroom. It was a strange encounter. I thought about skipping, but I knew we had an exam today. I had just sent in some applications to college, and wanted to not get into the “senior slide” and ruin my chances, although I had some interesting fodder for entrance essays.Now, though, I wish I had skipped.I sat down in class and the bell rung. Mr. Williams handed out our exams and told us to get started. I noticed Derek and Evan were absent. I was about five minutes into my exam when an obnoxiously loud crash startled me nearly out of my seat. I looked up to see Derek had kicked through the door, breaking it from its frame. Evan had a double-barreled, pump action shotgun in his hands, and both of Derek’s hands held black pistols. They were dressed in black, with scowls covering their faces. Evan turned to Abigail, a girl who sat in the front row. She and I were friends, and I actually had plans to get lunch with her that day. I had a bit of a crush on her, but I hadn’t told her. Evan pulled the trigger and just before the bullet hit, I froze time.I sat with my eyes closed for what felt like ten minutes. I couldn’t bring myself to open them. When I did, all I saw were terrified faces. Mr. Williams was in the middle of diving behind his desk. Students were scrambling out of their seats. Abigail had her eyes clenched shut and her hands up, as if they were going to stop the blast coming her way. Alex, another kid sitting in the front, had already soaked his pants with piss.I looked into the faces of Derek and Evan. There was so much rage. Evan was dripping sweat, and Derek was in the middle of yelling something, his face twisted and contorted in, seemingly in agony, to the point where I almost didn’t recognize him. I knew Derek and Evan had been bullied, and I had even tried to help them with that before. I talked to them and hung out with them when almost nobody else in school would. I stood up for them when people would talk about them. At heart, I knew they were nice kids.When I was 16 we spent almost all day building a haunted house in Derek’s garage. It sucked. It was probably the worst haunted house in history, but we laughed so much that day and had such a great time. Reminiscing on the memory now almost seems wrong, such a happy scene juxtaposed with a scene of such violence and anger. I barely even recognized them in this form. I didn’t know they were hurting so badly. But even if I had known, is there anything I could have done?In a sudden moment of panic, I let out a gasp as I realized there was nothing I could do.I tried to grab the guns. Nothing. I tried to grab the bullets. Nothing. I tried to push Derek and Evan away. Nothing. I tried to grab students out of their seat, maybe move them to a safe place. Nothing.I blurted out a mixture of a sob and a yell in pure frustration. Not knowing what to do, I left the classroom. My heart pounding with anxiety and adrenaline, I paced for a minute before I began walking the halls. I looked into classrooms and saw the faces of children who might not get to go home that day. Kids who had no idea of the terror they were about to endure. Derek and Evan had to have some evil in them to inflict this kind of pain on everyone in this building.I walked past the library at the center of the school, which was empty at this time. I saw a red light, in the middle of flashing. Curiously, I walked up to it and realized I was looking at a homemade bomb.My jaw clenched and I started to sob, realizing the extent of what was about to happen and how truly powerless I was to do anything. I walked outside the school and out to the sports fields in the back, behind the fieldhouse. I had never tried to unfreeze time when I wasn’t in the same place I had frozen it before. In a sense, I almost hoped it didn’t work. I knew the overwhelming guilt I would feel if I survived, and I knew, whether they shot me on accident or on purpose, I would die if I unfroze in Mr. Williams’ classroom.I closed my eyes. I knew I had unfrozen time because I could hear the pops of gunshots. At this point I was almost emotionally numb. My sobs had stopped. I felt like throwing up, but I couldn’t. For some reason, I just listened. I heard screams and students fled from the building. After maybe 5 minutes of shooting, I heard an incredibly loud boom, followed by the screech of fire alarms. The bomb must have gone off. Part of the building collapsed.The specifics aren’t really important, but as of about 11 p.m., 23 students were killed from shooting, including Derek and Evan, who shot themselves before the bomb went off. 28 more were injured. 10 died in the bomb blast and the resulting fallout, which injured about 50 more. Some of them were injured gravely.None of the names have been released, but I know who was killed.Around 11, I froze time again, walking from my house to the school, trying to somehow clear my mind. As I approached the school, I saw glowing red, blue and white lights still glowing in the parking lot. The police were still at the scene investigating. I walked behind the school, and I noticed some dull, glowing lights littering the fields.They were moving. As I closed in, I noticed they were the shape of humans, with faces I recognized. One was Abigail. It seemed the spirits of the people killed had inhabited my space with time frozen around me. I sat on a cement retaining wall with my feet dangling over the edge and watched them wander aimlessly around the field. My head hung, and I stared at the ground.I’m not sure if I ever intend to unfreeze time for myself again. I’m not sure I deserve to. Today showed I can’t change much anyways.

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Norwegian 1800s insane asylum

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This old cartoon is very surreal, but the ending goes from 0 to 100 very fast.

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I Predicted Something I Wasn't Ready For

It's a cold, dark night. I don't know where we are, only where we are coming from. He and I just got done with a movie (it was a Marvel movie) and he is driving me home. It always seems to throw people off when I tell them that I'm into Marvel, probably because I'm a girl. The interstate is darker than usual for some odd reason. I don't know why but I feel like something bad is about to happen."Do you feel that?" I ask Zachary. "Feel what?" He replies back, a little confused.Before I even have time to explain, we're hit. Zachary is a safe driver and the both of us are underaged so we can't drink. This car approached us head on without its headlights. This was intentional and I know it- but why? Who did Zach or I piss off that would do this?The car is spinning out of control and there is glass everywhere. I taste blood from inside my mouth and I think my arm is broke- all I know is I can't feel it. I try to look over at Zachary but I am immediately forced back onto the seat and hit my head. Great, this is a concussion I know it.The car is now rolling down hill. One...two...three rolls. We've landed and the car is upside down. I looked over at Zachary, trying to ignore the pain in my neck. He's barely even conscience and is in worse condition than me. There's blood all over his face and a giant gash in his arm. I can't see how bad it is because the moonlight sucks, but I can tell it's bad.I know I need to act fast so I can call an ambulance for the both of us. With all my strength, I unbuckle and immediately crawl out my window and over to his. Of all the cliches to happen, having his seatbelt get stuck is the worse. After what felt like forever, I was finally able to break him free and get him out. With whatever I have left for strength, I pick Zachary up and try to walk far away from the car. If that thing blows, I don't want to be anywhere near it!If that was an intentional hit, there's a good chance that whoever did that is going to come down here to check and see if we're dead. To make sure we're safe I'm hiding us is a bunch of bushes. I gently set him down and try to prop him upright. I sit next to him so he can lean on me if needed. At this point he groaning in pain and I can't help but start to tear up. We've been through so much and I'll be damned if I let some asshat end this friendship now.I check my pocket and to my relief my phone is there but it too is in bad shape. Because of this, dialing 911 was a challenge (damn touch screen)."911, what is your emergency?" the operator asked. "Yes, my friend and I have just gotten into a very bad accident and we need medical assistance immediately!" I frantically say. "Alright ma'am, where is your location?" "I'm not even sure at this point. Somewhere on I-94 near mile marker 107 maybe? Look man, my friend is in pretty bad shape and I need assistance here quickly! Use my damn GPS if you must, that should work just fine!" "Alright I need you to calm down ma'am, help is on the way. What's your name?" "Daniela," "Daniela? Okay, I've sent medics your way and they should be there within 15 minutes. I need you to stay on the-" "Shhh," I say to immediately shush him. There are footsteps coming down the hill, I can hear the grass crunching. I listen closely to what sounds like two men laughing and exchanging conversation."If those two twerps survived I have dibs on the girl. I don't want dibs to kill her, I wanna fuck her. I've wanted to do that from the moment I saw her. You can do whatever you want with the guy. Hell, maybe we could arrange something to where I fuck her and he watches? I'll bet that'll rack up some cash online!" I hear one of the men say in a low voice as they come closer and closer down the hill.I hear my heavy breathing and immediately put my hand over my mouth. I hold the phone with my shoulder and do the same with Zachary. The operator is probably very confused because he's been saying "hello?" for quite some time now. I was able to get a glimpse through a small hole to see the men approaching the vehicle. Before they could come close to the vehicle it burst into flames and sent the men running up the hill curing!Is this really how it ends? I can hear the operator practically screaming into the reciever, but I can barely talk back. I managed to somehow tell him that we're in the bushes. Everything is going black now...all I can do is cuddle closely to Zachary. His heart's still beating...that's good...The artificial lighting hurt my eyes- I must be in the hospital or something. Wait, where's Zachary? Not even thinking, jolt upright and jump out of my bed. I trip and fall over the cords and IV's, but I took that shit out of me and ran looking for Zachary. It didn't take long to find him since I found his family outside of his room, grieving. But why are they outside of the room?I approached the glass of his room to see him in bad condition. Tubes down his throat, IV's up and down his arm, bandages all over his body- some soaked in blood! But there was one thing that stuck out, a thing that I hadn't seen until the nurse put the sheet completely over him. He flatlined. I had just witnessed the death of my best friend.Everything is moving so fast...tears are filling my eyes. I can't even see what's in front of me. Is that a door? No, that's a person...right? I want to scream, but nothing is coming out. Someone say it, say it isn't so! I'm not ready for this!...I'm fading again. Everything is black again."You ok?" I hear Zachary say.I'm still in the car? The car is still in one piece?? HE'S ALIVE!? It must have been all a dream. My moment of joy was quickly diminished as I looked ahead to see a car looking figure speeding towards us in the distance. It's headlights are not on. I looked at Zachary, and tears began to fill my eyes...

[creepyorb]

Face from a MRI scan

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...and then, my friend...

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A volunteer demonstrates how the dead crows were presented to the live crows during Swift and colleagues' experiments.

[creepyorb]

My Uncle Worked At An Insane Asylum From 1963-1982 (Part 3)

Part 2: The MumblerNote: I wont be posting tomorrow. I want to give myself time to figure out what stories I'm going to post next. I hope you all understand!My Uncle and I are again so blown away by the response to this thread. I want to note two things. One: Mental Illness is a very real thing and many people are currently being treated. It is estimated that over a quarter of the United States is dealing with some form of mental illness. That means one in four of the people you know, may be dealing with some form of depression, bipolar disorder or other various mental disorders. Please consider donating to a reputable charity in order to help combat this. If everyone who liked the last two posts gave one dollar we would have collectively donated almost two thousand dollars! Now enjoy the next story:Story 3: The RockerOne of the most unnerving crazies was one we called The Rocker. This was in 1965 when during my first few years. Some Mentally ill people tend to rock back and forth pretty often especially after therapy. Some even rocked in the middle of their sleep. The Rocker, though, was called the Rocker because when he got one ounce of stress in his blood he would freeze like a statue.In the kitchen one day I was 2 years in and still feeling hopeful that the kitchen would help all these guys recover and be normal again even the more insane ones like The Rocker. The Rocker started grabbing red pepper flakes and tossing them in random dishes. This was making the others kind of mad and the stress level went up. I told The Rocker to stop and go sit down. That's when he literally froze. I’ve never seen anyone… anything living freeze like that. All of a sudden he started breathing again, but he was still frozen, his eyes stone cold staring at me I wondered if he was conscious. The nurses came in and picked him up completely frozen and moved him to an area away from the others.I walked over to one and asked her what the hell just happened. They said the shock therapy had messed his nerves up so bad that when he was stressed he acts like he’s getting shocked. He tenses up doesn’t breath and passes out but his nerves still fire and he gets stuck until he wakes back up and his nerves calm.This freaked me out. I asked the nurses how in the world can you deal with a person who every time he gets stressed freezes up. They told me that I couldn’t tell him he was doing anything wrong. That went against everything in me. How are you going to teach an insane person how to recover if you baby them. I told them, that I didn’t think he was cut out for the program if he couldn’t follow the rules and couldn’t handle being reprimanded. Looking back I feel like I was such a dick, but I was new and had this idea that mentally ill could somehow be cured with mix of kindness and discipline. I then, like a fool, talked with his doctor about moving him to a different therapy. This is how the conversation went.“Doctor, I think you need to switch his therapy. He freezes up whenever he gets stressed. You conditioned him. Isn’t there something else we can do for him?” The doctor was looking at a file he didn’t put it down he just kept reading and said,“Bill, do you even know why he is here? Do you know why we are still treating him?” I paused and realized I wasn’t the doctor. It kind of hit home, I was in this doctors office telling him how to do his job and thinking he would listen to me.“No, I’m sorry I just-” he cut me off.“This is a man who was, key word was, a psychopath. He was able to look around a room locate all exits and weapons, who was able to take him, who was able to hurt him, who he could kill first in a matter of seconds. So we conditioned him to freeze up during stress and now he is cured. I understand if you don’t want him in class, but we can’t switch his therapy I don’t want him going back to his killer instincts. The therapy is working. ” I looked at him with wide eyes, it was like he knew it was wrong, but didn't want to admit it because the guy wasn't hurting anyone.“With all due respect, he's not cured. He's a psychopath who siezes up every time he thinks the word kill!” The doctor put down his folder.“What do you want me to do Bill? He killed. And killed, and killed. Finally they caught him. He was sent here to be cured and monitored.” I was getting so angry, but I didn't want to lose my job and I wisely shut up.“It’s a success story Bill, we are able to turn monsters away from killing. If we can perfect it without the seizing we might put prisons out of business. Just... Relax.” I was so furious at this point. Relax? Relax?! How did he get off taking crazy people and numbing their minds to mush just to “Save them”.The story's not over though. The next day I asked to talk with the Rocker. I told the nurses I was going to apologize, and let him know it wasn’t him I was angry at just the situation. I was young, so naive I went in and sat on his bed with him. He just looked over at me and his eyes began to twitch a look of anger coming across his face.“Listen I know you’re getting therapy. I just want you to know that I understand you are mentally cognizant and I just wanted to apologize for earlier.” I looked at him his eyes. His hands moved to my neck with lightening speed, and he seized his fingers around my neck. I could not breath, I tried to yell but I couldn’t so i just started gurgling on my own spit. I thought “My god, I’m going to die right here in this fucking cell.” I saw in his eyes anger, hate. In came the nurses. I started seeing stars, I started fading. I saw them trying to move his arms, but they couldn’t and then everything went black.I woke up laying in a hospital bed a huge gash in my arm sewn up. I asked what had happened and the nurse said, the rocker couldn’t physically let go so one of the nurses ran and grabbed a fire axe and... she cut the guy's hands off. In the frantic rush she also sliced through and got me in the arm. When I was got back 2 weeks later I found him walking the halls no hands. When he saw me he seized up. It was at this point they realized they couldn’t let him be there anymore, he was too stressed out by seeing me so they moved him to another asylum.That was the day I learned to never too assume an psychopath is safe. Even after hes had "therapy". I saw in his eyes hate, I wasn’t sure if it was for me, or the system. Was that guy a monster? No, but he did kill people. It was our job to turn them back into people again. Shock therapy wasn’t making him less of a psychopath it was making him a tame psychopath. I know it sounds like I'm saying he's an animal, but I'm not sure how else to put it. He killed with out remorse I don't know what to call that, but I still had hope for him, and I suppose still do... just from a distance.The one thing I could never figure out is why The Rocker put the red pepper flakes in the food. I just have to wonder if he realized it was the only way he could cause pain to people without stressing himself out. Since he wouldn’t talk I probably will never know. I think if I was to go in his head his thoughts would be,“Fuck this place, Fuck these people, Fuck this life.” And that Vincent is a dangerous place to be in. Psychopaths are very different from people like the Mumbler. They are so sick, we don’t even know how to fix them. The mumbler can be talked to, he can be told not to listen to the voices even medicated, a Psychopath just does, without feeling or emotion. He would have killed me and not thought of why. He doesn’t count his killers because he probably doesn’t remember them nor does he care. I wish I knew how to help those people.Appendix: I just want to note that since you all have wanted to hear about experiments I’ve asked my uncle for stories about them. I want to focus on giving some insight into what the doctors did there, rather than always focus on the patient's. I’ve decided I will give stories each day that are different. Something about a patient, then an experiment, I’ve also asked my Uncle about day to day life and how he felt outside of work, I think you’ll be interested in that.Last I’d like to see if anyone has any interest in starting a little database for this project. I think it would be cool if some of you that are talented to draw the patients and doctors. My Uncle won’t give names, but I think it would be cool to see what people think the mumbler looks like, then I can give the stories that he is a part of for those interested in him specifically. Let me know if you are interested. You can send pictures to my twitter @VincentRustyEye.

[creepyorb]

I saw this video a long time ago on a shocksite and i recently found it again. Other than the screamers and jump scares this video and the audio really creeps me out

[creepyorb]

Computer scientists will get it, but imagine the sounds out of context!

[creepyorb]

What happened to me in the winter of 2002

This event took place in the winter of 2002, I was 9 years old.Here's a little about me when I was a kid. I was a lively child, I didn't talk all that much but I had maybe little too much energy. I'd do things without thinking and often got scolded after I accidentally broke something or hurt someone. I loved winter, so I was outside playing in the snow everyday. Our front yard was filled with snowmen of different sizes and a couple snow forts. The sun had set and it was only about 4 P.M. and it was already dark outside. I was building an extension to my fort when I heard a slight giggle coming from the forest. I stared into the dark forest for a short moment till I carried on with the building."What an ugly looking pile" a voice emanating from the forest said. It gave me the chills, the voice was hoarse and guttural. I walked to our terrace and stared into the forest for quite some time again. Mother came outside and asked if everything was alright. I nodded to her and ran back to work on my fort. She returned indoors."Seriously have you done this before?" it said being even closer now. "Who is there?" I replied this time.. no answer. Another maybe 20 to 30 minutes went by and it spoke again. "You really suck at this, huh" at this time I felt anger and rushed towards the forest. I looked behind some trees but I didn't see anyone all I heard was an echoing giggle. "SHUT UP!" I shouted and silence took over. "Don't go to the forest or you'll get lost!" my mother broke the silence. I turned back and went on with my fort. I had lost all the motivation to build it now. I sat down and leaned on the wall. The wall collapsed and rage took over me and I destroyed the whole fort. "Sorry for earlier, it's just that... It's winter and I'm quite hungry" this time the voice come real close behind a snow pile. "Go eat then!" I huffed and it burst into giggling again. I took a dash to look behind the pile but no one was there "WHAT!?" I shouted. Silence fell upon the yard again. I punched down a couple snow men and returned to the ruins of my fort.I started building it again and in the middle of building the voice was behind me "Dinner time!" and immediately a cold bony hand covered my eyes as it pinned me down. I felt a sharp stab on my stomach which made me cry in pain. My mother rushed out and screamed at first and yelled "GET OFF OF HIM! GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF!" At this point I had lost my consciousness. I woke up some days later in a health center. I couldn't remember what had happened and my mother said I fell over to an icicle making a cut in my stomach. I had around 9cm cut right below my ribs. I had no reason to question it as not many child would. Within the next month we had moved away from that house. Years later I started having nightmares about that day. I told my mother about the recurring nightmare when I was 17 years old. Right after I brought it up my mother looked upset. She told me to sit down first. "Remember how you got that scar on your stomach?" she asked "Yeah, you told I fell over a sharp icicle" She then told me that wasn't true. She told me that because what really happened could've scarred me for life. She felt relief that I couldn't remember that day and she wished I never had brought it up again. The sight was too shocking even for her. This is what she told me then: "I see nightmares about that day too, occasionally. Mostly about what could've happened, IF, I had not heard you scream. I ran outside and I saw this... this skinny old human wearing nothing but leather clothing and the stench was indescribably terrible. It was over your body with it's fingers tearing into your stomach. I screamed at the sight and grabbed the first thing I could and ran towards you. I hit it with a shovel many times but it didn't seem to budge. 'Get off' I yelled and yelled while crying. 'He's a good boy, stop hurting him!' then it turned its head at me. It's face looked so wrinkly, bony and it's white thin hair overlapped the face. I took a final swing on the head and it scurried off 'four legged'. I called for help and we took you to health center, where you stayed for over a week due to an infection over the wound." I could hear it in her voice that she was not lying, but I have hard time to believe all that. She also claimed that they found a small piece of rotten human skin inside my wound, it wasn't mine. I really don't want to believe it as it gives thrives fear in my mind to even think about it. Maybe she really believes in what she remembers. Maybe my real memories of the day lay hidden in my subconsciousness and the nightmare is just a fantasied version of them. But to this day, I want to believe it was just a freak animal attack that I was lucky enough to survive.

[creepyorb]

Three years ago, I predicted that we'd be stalked by a serial killer. I hope he gets me tonight.

Three years ago, on July 12th, I went on a camping trip with friends. We were going to be 8 people. Our site was a few hours Southwest of Denver. We were all about 20 and only one of us owned a car, and we could fit maybe 5 people in there. To make up, my friend Eric was able to borrow his mother’s car for the weekend. However, since he didn’t have a driver’s license, my other friend Emma would drive. I was with that car too.Eric’s mother was nice enough to let another kid drive her car, but on the drive to the camping grounds, Eric told us half-jokingly that she only did so because the car was old and she didn’t care if it broke down or something. The smartass I was loved being a prophet of doom, so I jumped on the occasion. The dialog went something like:Me: Haha, hey guys, wouldn’t it be funny if the car actuall broke down?Emma (slightly upset): shut up didnt_check_source, that’s not funny.Me: No wait, it’s gonna break down, and then it’ll start raining. And then there’ll be a thunderstorm.Emma: what the fuck is wrong with you?Me: And then there’ll be a SERIAL KILLER coming for us!Eric: (nervous laugh) no seriously didnt_check_source, shut up.And that was the end of it. We rode for a while under a blue sky.Until, about two hours in and maybe 15 minutes away from the camping, smoke started coming out from the engine.So we pulled to the side. Since none of us owned a car, we had no idea what to do. We called AAA, Eric’s mother, our friends with the other car (so that they could pick us up) and waited. Eric nervously said that at least, it wasn’t raining.Until, of course, the sky covered up and it started raining. Eric jokingly said that it was my fault but Emma was seriously freaked out. I thought it was actually pretty funny.At this point you’ve probably guessed what happens next. Thunder rolls in and lighting strikes relatively close. I thought that was great. My prediction came true! We’d have to be on the lookout for the serial killer.The storm passed as quickly as it came and our other driver friend picked us up since we were so close. That made for a great story to tell to the other four, and the weekend passed without a hint of a serial killer, though Emma was visibly upset. Eric’s mom drove to pick us up for the return trip.Over the next week, Emma started to try to avoid me. She’d mostly ignore me at work, answering my questions with one or two words answers and going away as fast as she could. That hurt me. Eric actually told me that she thought I was after her: she told him that I was stalking her, or that someone was stalking her, and that she was considering bringing it to the police. By Friday, she called in sick and I was sure that it’s because she didn’t want to talk to me.Saturday, I tried to call her to see if I could talk her out of it. She never picked up, though. The next day, I called her landline, and her mom picked up. When I asked where Emma was, she said that I came to get her to walk and talk about our issues.And she was never seen again.That was a very hard hit for all of us. Emma’s parents were crushed, and of course, I was the prime suspect. I collaborated with the police as well as I could and answered all of their questions. Even though the mother squarely said that I was the one who came by, my parents could testify that I spent the day home, and police never found any other conclusive evidence. I wasn’t charged. To this day, I don’t know the case’s status: officially, she’s "just" missing.Some of my friends stopped talking to me after the event. I can’t really blame them. Even though that can’t be my fault, I felt pretty stupid for what I said in the car. Eric stuck with me though.The year passed and we had no sign of her. On July 19th, the day before her disappearance the year before, her friends had a meet up to support each other. I wasn’t invited and spent a pretty shitty day by myself. That ended around 4 PM. Eric knew that I felt awful and called me to go eat out. He told me that he really believed that it wasn’t my fault and that he was sorry that I hadn’t been invited. We parted our way pretty late in the night. But just before he left, he seemed to look in the other direction, and he asked me, "did you see that?" I hadn’t seen anything and told him so. We checked around a bit and both went on our separate ways.And he was never seen again.The next days were really horrible. The police was very insistent this time, and they detained me for a few days. I tried my best to help. I know I didn’t do it, but it sure is incriminating when you’re the last person to see your best friend and he disappears, one year day for day after a girl disappeared, when it is claimed that she was seen with me. These things are not coincidences.The whole thing really fucked me up. I dropped out of college and I don’t see any future for myself. I think I’m getting crazy. When I’m not high at night and I pass the bathroom, sometimes I swear that I catch Eric behind me in the mirror.I actually wrote this in several weeks in advance because there is no way that I’ll be in any state to write anything coherent at this point. I’ll need weapon-grade weed to pass through the night. I hope that it’s slow-cooking my brain because that’s better than living with my self. I hear you can get paranoid from drugs, maybe that’s what’s happening to me, it seems that I’ve been getting these ‘glances’ of other people in the mirror more often lately At the windows too now, I shut of the curtains bt they can feel throughAnyway, it’s July 19th and I’m fucked up. I hope that I’ll never be seen agai

[creepyorb]

Does anyone know what a Skthuur is?

I began my intrepid, pants-shitting journey on a Thursday that felt like a Monday. I had driven to work at GLT Solutions. It’s a like a concierge for advertising. If you’re an organization or company that wants effective advertising in the Midwest, you call GLT. Anyway, I drove forty minutes down the freeway and already had a coffee stain down my shirt when I arrived. I dabbed at it with a swim towel in my back seat, but there was nothing I could really do except walk in and bear the ridicule.This past week had been slow, which anybody in the business would tell you was not a good thing. See, when business is fast everyone is busy and the management always has more important things to worry about than employees. You do your work the best you can and move on. When business is slow, that doesn’t mean time to browse reddit, because management still needs to show “results.” This translates to all kinds of department initiatives and team huddles. That Thursday bore witness to the type of over management that would have made Jimmy Carter proud.Heading home from the office exhausted, my car broke down. I knew it was on its last legs, but if I had money to fix it I wouldn’t be driving forty minutes each day to work. I’m sitting on the side of the road thinking about who to call for help when a tow truck appeared out of nowhere and slowed down to help me out. (I know it didn’t actually appear out of nowhere, it appeared out of the highway. Shut up.) The side of the truck was emblazoned with the name “AA Towing.” The man inside the cabin was grizzled and old. He looked like a frog had been covered in salt and left in the sun for too long. He let me ride with him over to Art’s Repairs, and we were off.It didn’t take me too long to realize we were headed somewhere else. I’ve lived here a while, and when I saw him take a left to go directly away from the auto shop I began watching the road more closely. I didn’t want to be rude, so I didn’t say anything. In retrospect I should have. Paying attention, I began to see things I had never noticed before. One of the street names was off by a letter. Minnow St. was now Minow. The businesses were ones I had never seen before. When the driver dropped me and my car off in front of Arght’s Reapairs, I tried to protest. He was silent, but when I got out to try and stop him from unhooking the car he got back in the cabin and drove off without me.I sat in the parking lot of Arght’s for a while, trying to get some help. My phone had a signal, but everyone I called couldn’t be reached. I tried my friends Joe and Alex, and even Joe’s girlfriend, Gwen. (She’s practically one of the gang at this point, so it felt alright.) I even considered calling my ex Lucy, but decided against it in a flush of anger.Eventually I steeled my heart and went in. There was a normal person working the receptionist-looking desk out front. He was a young guy with the frat boy belly and blonde hair spiked out in front. I wondered if his dad owned the business.“Hey, can you tell me where we are?” I asked. More than anything, I just wanted to get a handle on where we were.The boy looked put out. “You’re asking where you are? You’re here.” He shrugged, bemused. “Other than that, I don’t really know what I can say.”I huffed. “Fine. Can you at least tell me how to get to Art’s? That’s where I wanted to go in the first place.”“That’s where you are,” he responded. “Arghts. Now, did you come as an eraser or erasee?”“No, tha- wait what?”“Well, that pretty much answers it, then, doesn’t it?” He smiled for the first time, an ugly thing. He reached across a desk to grab a form. “Name?”I protested as he all but ignored me. The young man just glanced back and forth from me to the sheet, muttering as he went. “Name? Hal Schumaker. Occupation? Pencil pusher. In love? No. First love? Taken. Existing contracts? None. Proficiencies? Makes a mean egg salad.”At this point I was standing in front of him, shell shocked. How could he tell so much about me from a glance? I felt violated. That was when I noticed his eyes. Each time he glanced at me I could see the milky white of his sclera had covered his cornea and pupil. It was downright creepy. As quickly as he had started, the man stopped. He fell back into his chair then did some typing on his computer. I stood, confused. The whole thing was so surreal. I should have been running.At length, the man stopped typing. He presented me with a piece of paper. “Alright, Hal. I know this must be just so confusing for you, so I’ll help you out a bit.” He sounded bored, like a flight attendant giving her safety speech for the millionth time. “My name is Arght, and I’ve been paid to kill you. It won’t be now, and it won’t be quick. Please calm down. Mr. Schumaker? Oh, yes. You may want to sit down for this. Most do.”I was drenching my coffee-stained shirt with sweat, barely able to hear his voice over the sound of my heart in my ears. Adrenaline pulsed through me like a toxin, making me almost vomit from battle-readiness.“As I was saying, not today Mr. Schumaker. That said, you may do well to sleep with a shotgun from tonight on out. Please pay attention, Mr. Schumaker. My client payed extra for you to get this explanation. You will-”“Who is he?”“My client? I’m afraid I can’t say. I can, however, offer you the chance at revenge. We are running a 1 for 1 special this month. As an erasee, we are offering you’re the chance to sell part of your soul in return for the name and the subsequent murder of whoever had you killed in the first place.”“Wait, what?” I was baffled at the idea that this man was an assassin or something, and that he was making deals with his victims? This wasn’t how life worked. Also, selling souls?“I know, right? That was my first reaction when marketing told me about it. Apparently some other retaliatory industries have given it a go, and naturally low customer retention reduces service cannibalism. Not, of course, that there is a problem with cannibalism. Some of my best friends are cannibals.” He seemed embarrassed about the last part, like cannibals were a discriminated-against minority. “But hey, it’s just for a month. Are you in? It’s only a tenth of your soul, and since you will die anyway in the next month, the living side effects won’t even be that bad.”“Umm, no. I don’t think I want to kill anybody. And finding out who did it isn’t worth selling my soul over, whoever it is.”“Ok chief, up to you.” With the chance of a sale diminished, Arght seemed less interested in me again. “As I was saying, I cursed you to attract the Skthuur.” He paused, then seemed to recite a poem.“If Skthuur you found instead, make peace with friends in light of day. Nightfall finds a moaning cur, and morning finds him dead.”After that poem, Arght escorted me out, and wished me the best of luck. He gave me a phone number too. Said to call him if I changed my mind about the retaliatory murder thing. There’s just one thing on my mind right now, blocking out the billions of questions I don’t have answers to.Someone wants me dead.Someone wants me dead enough that they sold part of their soul to get it done, and they wanted me to suffer. That’s gotta be the only reason why they paid extra for me to get taken to that place, to be told what was going to happen to me. I need to figure out who it was, and how I can reverse this curse. First, though, I need to figure out how to survive the night. It’s nightfall now, and I’m expecting the shit to go down any minute. I’m writing this so maybe someone hears my story, and also to keep me from blowing my own brains out. On the upside, Arght did send a guy out to go fix my car. All things considered, he seems like a pretty nice guy.Anyway.I made it back home, and I picked up a shotgun from Alex’s father’s house. I didn’t tell Alex what I needed it for, just told him that I wasn’t crazy, but really needed the gun tonight. I said I wouldn’t kill anybody and hoped I didn’t need to fire it at all. All of those things are true, except for maybe the crazy part. I’m starting to worry about that. I thought about calling the police, but they wouldn’t believe me either, and I don’t want to commit some crime and forfeit my ability to defend myself on the hope that a jail cell does it better. I also have a long hunting knife I was able to snag from Alex, and I bought a machete from Sport Authority. I don’t know what these Skthuur are, so I just hope something here will kill them. I locked myself in this windowless basement under my house. It’s unfinished, so I have some concrete walls and a few bare lightbulbs. The creepiness factor is high, but it’s probably the safest place in the house. I barricaded the door and laced up barbed wire from Rural King in the hallway. I also built a small fire on the basement floor in case the Skthuur cut the power or something. The problem with not knowing what’s coming to kill me is that I haven’t got a clue how to stop it. The only clue I could find was that if they attack at night they must be weak to sunlight. I’ve got two Home Depot floodlights hooked up with extension cords, and typing this out has made me realize that I am totally on a watchlist right now. Alright, I have to post this now and go, I’m hearing a scratching somewhere up above me. I hope I have the chance to write again.

[creepyorb]

Creepachu