Fuck Yeah! Scary Shit...

Fuck sleep.

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Top 15 Scariest Things Caught On Surveillance Footage

These are absolutely horrifying... Subscribe Here: https://www.youtube.com/Top15s?sub_confirmation=1 Twitter: https://twitter.com/Top15s_ Edited by: Kenneth ...

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Anabelle

What did you guys think of Anabelle? I thought it had its moments, especially the scene with the elevator in the basement, but I think it fell quite a bit short compared to The Conjuring.

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This scared the shit out of me in the middle of the day. I don’t really know why, I’ve seen worse, but it’s still interesting. It’s #1 on this list. http://www.unilad.co.uk/articles/these-are-some-of-the-most-haunted-places-on-the-planet/

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What's the scariest movie you've ever seen?

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New Theme

Just added a new theme.

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THIS THEME IS THE WORST OH MY GOD i can't read the stories it's all too big and in your face

Ur mom

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Do you remember posting something a while back about a human sacrifice pit used in the religion Zoroastrianism? According to your blog this pit was filled with blood that exploded all over some of the officials investigating the human sacrifice, and they then went crazy and died. I have been trying to find the post but I can not seem to find it on your blog or mine. I think there is some crazy conspiracy going on here, and I just need to know you actually posted it. Thanks :)

I don't think so, sorry.

[fuckyeahscaryshit]

Gray - Submission From A Reader...

I’ve tried everything I can think of.  Enough is enough.

I first noticed the thing when I looked up at my window after taking a short nighttime walk.  At first, I reasoned that it was just my mom, putting something in my room.  But as I came closer and looked harder, I saw its shape was hardly feminine.  Hardly even human.

What stood in my window was a tall, skinny figure, completely nude and lanky like a teenager, its skin the color gray.  It stood taller than I did, and it looked down from my window at me whenever I was outside of my house.  Its face was more humanoid than the rest of it, as it had a mouth, a nose, and two eyes, the whites of which shone like dimmed car headlights.  It had an expression that was hard to read; fear mixed with exuberation, and entirely psychotic.

The first night I saw it, it just stared down at me.  It didn’t move at all.  I didn’t move at all.  I couldn’t.  I was dumbfounded by its presence. 

I felt a sneaking dread climb up my spine, and it settled on my neck.  My mother and sister were in the house with that monster.  I ran for the door.

When I burst through, nothing was amiss.  My family members sat downstairs, watching television as they always did.  Panting, I stood before the screen and looked at them, wondering how they couldn’t have noticed someone breaking into our home.  Looks of concern showed on both their faces.

“What’s the matter?” my mom asked, frowning.

“There’s someone upstairs!” I exclaimed.

“What?” she cried, her voice raised.  “How can that be?”

“I saw him in my window!”  Without waiting for them to follow, I stormed up the stairs, determined to catch the criminal.  I took a baseball bat from the closet on the way and, with a moment’s hesitation, I exploded into my bedroom.

The gray being had inexplicably vanished.  Gone, without any trace.  I checked my sister’s room, my mother’s room, every bathroom and closet and pantry I could.  The thing had disappeared.  Somehow, its vanishing disturbed me more than its being here.  That night I barely slept, waiting for it to emerge from some excellent hiding spot.  It never did.

After then, I’ve looked up to my window when I was outside, and every time I saw the thing glaring down at me like I was the freak.  Sometimes I locked eyes with it, making threatening gestures to try to stare it down and scare it off, but it never affects it.  It just stood there, watching.

Waiting.

After a week of seeing it whenever I walked my dog late at night, and even during the day when I looked up from car as I parked it in the driveway, I resolved to do something.  What a mistake.

First, I tried shutting the blinds and turning off the light before I went out with my dog.  Sure enough, when I glanced up at my window the thing stood as it had before, with the blinds completely up and the light juxtaposing its gray mass against the yellow-colored room.  When I climbed back up to my bedroom, the shades were as I had put them.  I started to feel crazy, and unsafe.  I started sleeping downstairs.

The second thing I tried worked as well as the first.  I stacked chairs and heavy boxes full of reams of paper before the window to see how determined this spirit was.  As I should have guessed, all of the things had been removed from sight when I peered up to the gleaming portal.  It just stood alone, its expression constant, its body not feeling my desperate eyes upon the gray of its form.

As a final attempt before resulting to setting actual traps to catch the beast, I told my sister to check my room after I’d gone.  She was still sitting on the couch when I walked through the front door, loath to postpone her sedentary life for even a few minutes.  When I returned, she reported that my room was empty, and asked if I felt okay.  Feeling the concerned and fearful eyes of my family members made me fearful for myself.

For some weeks, I managed to come to terms with the gray being’s existence.  I looked at it less and less, found its presence to be of decreasing importance to me.  It seemed as if we could occupy the same space in comfort, staying out of each other’s way.  I had almost completely forgotten about it when the tragedy came.

It was a Saturday, a day I typically spend out with friends.  The evening was a time of stress relief in the form of driving around the suburbs I live in and causing a ruckus in a variety of ways.  I left around 4 in the afternoon, and it was only 4:26 when I received a frantic text from my mom urging me to come home.

When I got back, I looked up to my window, remembering the being that had become nearly invisible by its consistency.  I froze when I saw that its gray, strange mouth was twisted upwards in a horrid smile.

I burst through the front door.  My mom was collapsed on the front room carpet, telephone held limply in hand having just called the police.  I knelt by her a few moments, comforting her in her distress, wondering where my sister was.  Sentence after incoherent sentence streamed out of her mouth like dribble, so I left her there to check if the house had any clues to her distress.

My natural response upon entering my house is to get upstairs to my room as soon as sociably acceptable.  Logically, I would check their first.  Each day I awake, I wish I hadn’t looked at all.

Blood coated nearly every surface, as if some explosion of red paint had sent it splattering the walls and ceiling.  Parts of my sister were strewn on my bed, some of her organs lying on my desk, a good deal of her torso still and motionless in the center of my carpet.  Her face had been torn off and nailed to the wall with a pencil, the eyes missing and nowhere to be found.  The eyeholes were ghastly, elongated things, made to look like demon’s eyes by the bloodied wall that was visible through them.  I retched onto the crimson floor, making the stench in the room even more sickening than the hemoglobin-iron smell that fucked my nostrils mercilessly.

I stumbled downstairs back to my weeping mother, and collapsed as she had.  I did not cry, however.  I only thought.  And it became clear to me then.  The being is too dangerous to let live.

From then on, after police had come to retrieve the body and found no viable perpetrator of the crime, I spent most of my time at every public library in the county or on so-called witch websites I knew to be hoaxes, trying to find a method of purging the spirit from my home.  I ordered holy water purported to be bottled at the Jordan River, spread it in the still-red room only to see that same gray beast looking down upon me from within.  No amount of charms or amulets or enchantments could repel the gray being.  I cast protection spells, spirit wards, positive repels, waving my hands and chanting like a manic cultist.  In a stupor of frustration, I tried pleading with the spirit, making a pact with it, left it offerings like it was some god to revere.  Nothing could remove it from the window.

And that brings me to my current state of mind.  I have exhausted all possible means, save summoning a demon of my own or burning down my house.  I would do the latter if I could convince my mother of the gray being’s existence, but she always claims she can’t see it when I show her its creeping vigilance.  For some reason, I know nothing can rid me of this malevolence.  That’s why I’ve written this tale, this explanation of my next action; I’m going to climb onto my roof and go in through that window.  I want everyone to understand why I’ve done this, and to make sure that this does not happen again.  Believe someone if they tell you that they’re afraid, and believe in what causes their fear, no matter how preposterous, no matter how gray.

I’ve tried everything I can think of.  Enough is enough.

This journal was found on Derrick E. Weinman’s person on February the 17th, among other personal effects including a watch battery, a wallet containing identification and several bills, and a packet of Big League Chew.  Derrick’s time of death was 8:34 P.M. on February the 17th.  Cause of death, still unknown, though the official statement has been announced as suicide.  No sign of a struggle or harmful chemicals found.  Derrick was lying face-down on the floor of his room where his sister’s body had been found (See: OFCL Report: Case 9a12, Vanessa D. Weinman).  Please note that last page of quoted journal had difficult-to-read message, eventually determined to say “WHY AM I SO GRAY.”

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The picture of the clown with green hair and blood all over his mouth. Isn't that from a movie? And if so what movie?

Zombieland.

[fuckyeahscaryshit]

The picture of the clown with green hair and blood all over his mouth. Isn't that from a movie? And if so what movie?

That is from Zombieland actually. Not a particularly scary movie, but an awesome one.

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BS that Carnival horror crap is fake. All those photos are from Chernobyl! Don't make shit up, when you do that ALL your stories lose their authenticity.

It's imaginative fiction sir. It's not real.

[fuckyeahscaryshit]

Gray - Submission From A Follower...

I’ve tried everything I can think of. Enough is enough. I first noticed the thing when I looked up at my window after taking a short nighttime walk. At first, I reasoned that it was just my mom, putting something in my room. But as I came closer and looked harder, I saw its shape was hardly feminine. Hardly even human. What stood in my window was a tall, skinny figure, completely nude and lanky like a teenager, its skin the color gray. It stood taller than I did, and it looked down from my window at me whenever I was outside of my house. Its face was more humanoid than the rest of it, as it had a mouth, a nose, and two eyes, the whites of which shone like dimmed car headlights. It had an expression that was hard to read; fear mixed with exuberation, and entirely psychotic. The first night I saw it, it just stared down at me. It didn’t move at all. I didn’t move at all. I couldn’t. I was dumbfounded by its presence. I felt a sneaking dread climb up my spine, and it settled on my neck. My mother and sister were in the house with that monster. I ran for the door. When I burst through, nothing was amiss. My family members sat downstairs, watching television as they always did. Panting, I stood before the screen and looked at them, wondering how they couldn’t have noticed someone breaking into our home. Looks of concern showed on both their faces. “What’s the matter?” my mom asked, frowning. “There’s someone upstairs!” I exclaimed. “What?” she cried, her voice raised. “How can that be?” “I saw him in my window!” Without waiting for them to follow, I stormed up the stairs, determined to catch the criminal. I took a baseball bat from the closet on the way and, with a moment’s hesitation, I exploded into my bedroom. The gray being had inexplicably vanished. Gone, without any trace. I checked my sister’s room, my mother’s room, every bathroom and closet and pantry I could. The thing had disappeared. Somehow, its vanishing disturbed me more than its being here. That night I barely slept, waiting for it to emerge from some excellent hiding spot. It never did. After then, I’ve looked up to my window when I was outside, and every time I saw the thing glaring down at me like I was the freak. Sometimes I locked eyes with it, making threatening gestures to try to stare it down and scare it off, but it never affects it. It just stood there, watching. Waiting. After a week of seeing it whenever I walked my dog late at night, and even during the day when I looked up from car as I parked it in the driveway, I resolved to do something. What a mistake. First, I tried shutting the blinds and turning off the light before I went out with my dog. Sure enough, when I glanced up at my window the thing stood as it had before, with the blinds completely up and the light juxtaposing its gray mass against the yellow-colored room. When I climbed back up to my bedroom, the shades were as I had put them. I started to feel crazy, and unsafe. I started sleeping downstairs. The second thing I tried worked as well as the first. I stacked chairs and heavy boxes full of reams of paper before the window to see how determined this spirit was. As I should have guessed, all of the things had been removed from sight when I peered up to the gleaming portal. It just stood alone, its expression constant, its body not feeling my desperate eyes upon the gray of its form. As a final attempt before resulting to setting actual traps to catch the beast, I told my sister to check my room after I’d gone. She was still sitting on the couch when I walked through the front door, loath to postpone her sedentary life for even a few minutes. When I returned, she reported that my room was empty, and asked if I felt okay. Feeling the concerned and fearful eyes of my family members made me fearful for myself. For some weeks, I managed to come to terms with the gray being’s existence. I looked at it less and less, found its presence to be of decreasing importance to me. It seemed as if we could occupy the same space in comfort, staying out of each other’s way. I had almost completely forgotten about it when the tragedy came. It was a Saturday, a day I typically spend out with friends. The evening was a time of stress relief in the form of driving around the suburbs I live in and causing a ruckus in a variety of ways. I left around 4 in the afternoon, and it was only 4:26 when I received a frantic text from my mom urging me to come home. When I got back, I looked up to my window, remembering the being that had become nearly invisible by its consistency. I froze when I saw that its gray, strange mouth was twisted upwards in a horrid smile. I burst through the front door. My mom was collapsed on the front room carpet, telephone held limply in hand having just called the police. I knelt by her a few moments, comforting her in her distress, wondering where my sister was. Sentence after incoherent sentence streamed out of her mouth like dribble, so I left her there to check if the house had any clues to her distress. My natural response upon entering my house is to get upstairs to my room as soon as sociably acceptable. Logically, I would check their first. Each day I awake, I wish I hadn’t looked at all. Blood coated nearly every surface, as if some explosion of red paint had sent it splattering the walls and ceiling. Parts of my sister were strewn on my bed, some of her organs lying on my desk, a good deal of her torso still and motionless in the center of my carpet. Her face had been torn off and nailed to the wall with a pencil, the eyes missing and nowhere to be found. The eyeholes were ghastly, elongated things, made to look like demon’s eyes by the bloodied wall that was visible through them. I retched onto the crimson floor, making the stench in the room even more sickening than the hemoglobin-iron smell that fucked my nostrils mercilessly. I stumbled downstairs back to my weeping mother, and collapsed as she had. I did not cry, however. I only thought. And it became clear to me then. The being is too dangerous to let live. From then on, after police had come to retrieve the body and found no viable perpetrator of the crime, I spent most of my time at every public library in the county or on so-called witch websites I knew to be hoaxes, trying to find a method of purging the spirit from my home. I ordered holy water purported to be bottled at the Jordan River, spread it in the still-red room only to see that same gray beast looking down upon me from within. No amount of charms or amulets or enchantments could repel the gray being. I cast protection spells, spirit wards, positive repels, waving my hands and chanting like a manic cultist. In a stupor of frustration, I tried pleading with the spirit, making a pact with it, left it offerings like it was some god to revere. Nothing could remove it from the window. And that brings me to my current state of mind. I have exhausted all possible means, save summoning a demon of my own or burning down my house. I would do the latter if I could convince my mother of the gray being’s existence, but she always claims she can’t see it when I show her its creeping vigilance. For some reason, I know nothing can rid me of this malevolence. That’s why I’ve written this tale, this explanation of my next action; I’m going to climb onto my roof and go in through that window. I want everyone to understand why I’ve done this, and to make sure that this does not happen again. Believe someone if they tell you that they’re afraid, and believe in what causes their fear, no matter how preposterous, no matter how gray. I’ve tried everything I can think of. Enough is enough. This journal was found on Derrick E. Weinman’s person on February the 17th, among other personal effects including a watch battery, a wallet containing identification and several bills, and a packet of Big League Chew. Derrick’s time of death was 8:34 P.M. on February the 17th. Cause of death, still unknown, though the official statement has been announced as suicide. No sign of a struggle or harmful chemicals found. Derrick was lying face-down on the floor of his room where his sister’s body had been found (See: OFCL Report: Case 9a12, Vanessa D. Weinman). Please note that last page of quoted journal had difficult-to-read message, eventually determined to say “WHY AM I SO GRAY.”

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Submission from a follower...

A fetid corpse that smelled of meal and droppings of maggots sat under some sawdust in the barn.  Cleon Bartlett poked it with a stick, releasing more of its stench with each jab.  Horrible amounts of bugs slithered out from the holes he made easily in the skin.  He thrust with the branch harder than before, and it lodged in the torso of the human carcass.  He turned to Dill and grinned.

“Y’ever saw a thing so gross?”

Dill Rodgers shook his head, sick to his stomach due to the noxious smell.  “I ‘spose I’ve seen a couple possums in a worse way.  Who do you reckon it is?”

“Dunno,” Gale said with a plain shrug.  “Could be some outta-towner who did it bad with a local gal.”

“Nah, he got them muddy overalls on, like a farmer.  I reckon he’s local, him.”

“Well look at you, all ‘telligent and shit.”  Gale spit a rhubarb-stained loogie by the body.  “Think we oughtta tell the police?”

“Maybe we could wait for some kinda reward or somethin’, we can get our names in the paper.”

“Dill, you are one evil piece of shit.”

“I’m just saying, this bastard’s death don’t have to be no waste!  It’d be a loss.”

“You may just be right.  Hey, come on.”  Gale approached the corpse that lay face down on the hay floor.

“The hell’re you doing, dumbass?  Don’t go near it.”

“Don’t be a pussy, let’s just turn the sorry sonbitch over and get a better look.”

Dill looked out the door, ajar, to the shaded property of Gale’s family’s ranch.  The fruit trees he saw cast shadows upon the dusty trail and land that played tricks on his eyes; he saw devils and faeries dancing hand in hand in the shadows made by leaves and branches.  He shook his head.  A disturbing omen, his intelligent inner mind intoned.  His books of dark magic from the gypsy woman who knew his name before he’d ever told her warned of such things.

“Hey.  Hey shit-for-brains!” Gale chided.  “You gonna stand there, or come and help?”

Dill jumped back to the present.  He rushed over to Gale, crouched over the body like a feral scavenger, unwisely forgetting all he had just contemplated.  Together, they grasped the right side of the corpse and pulled with all their strength backwards.  Gale fell onto his posterior as the task was completed.  He stood, brushing his death-layered hands off on his denim shorts.  Dill just gaped.

The body of Mr. Earl Bartlett, aged 43 ATD (At Time of Death), was found on June 20th, with the effects of decay having emaciated his entire body.  Forensic reports published on June 21st indicate, however unbelievably, that the death of Mr. Bartlett had occurred on May 18thof the previous year.  How the body could have gone unnoticed for so long, especially with the stench replete on the whole of the Bartlett property, is impossible to comprehend.

Additionally, the autopsy report resulted in far more disturbing information.  The flesh of minors Cleon Savannah Bartlett, aged 16, and Dill Dixie Rodgers, also 16, were found partially decomposed inside the decay-torn stomach of Mr. Earl Bartlett.  The decomposition of the flesh seems to have occurred as a result of time, not of stomach acids, of which there was none found inside Mr. Earl Bartlett.  Even more disturbing is the fact that carbon dating performed on the disembodied flesh of the two teens in Mr. Bartlett’s stomach discovered that their deaths occurred long after the original death of Mr. Bartlett in 2011.  There is no explanation for this.  Some of the men who were told in the precinct theorized that it could have been a sort of satanic ritual in which the two teens found the decaying remains and removed parts of their own bodies and forced it into the corpse’s gastrointestinal system.  This hypothesis has not been agreed upon.

The deaths of the teens occurred several weeks ago on April 25th.  Again, the stench was not noticed, though upon entering the barn in which the bodies were found the smell was almost unbearable.  Mrs. Anna Mae Bartlett, wife of Mr. Earl Bartlett and mother of Cleon S. Bartlett, is quoted as saying, “There weren’t no smell, I couldnt [...] I ain’t got nothing to hide [...] He [...] The barn should [...] I don’t know what to do with myself.  I can’t go [...] I don’t go in that barn cause I got work in town! [...] I can’t do this” (sic) (frequent pauses attributed to crying).  After her short interview, Mrs. Anna Mae Bartlett left in her Honda Accord, still bereft.  Her current location is unknown.

So far, any explanation offered has gaping holes.  There is no reason why a human body, left to decay in heat that averages over 80°F for over a year, should not make a smell that would draw immediate attention.  An expert team of entomologists has been contacted by the federal organization that took over the case from local authorities to investigate “abnormalities” (official statement) regarding the insects found at the scene.  As of yet, there has been no official statement.