Dont look behind you

This is your place to go for the paranormal, supernatural, and all around creepy. Have fun. I own nothing unless stated otherwise.

[fyeahcreepyshit]

No Matter Which Way we Turned

Brian Evenson

No matter which way we turned the girl, she didn’t have a face.  There was hair in front and hair in the back—only saying which was the front and which was the back was impossible.  I got Jim Slip to look on one side and I looked from the other and the other members of the lodge just tried to hold her gently or not so gently in place, but no matter how we looked or held her the face just wasn’t there.  Her mother was screaming, blaming us, but what could we do about it?  We were not to blame.  There was nothing we could have done.

It was Verl Kramm who got the idea of calling out to the sky, calling out after the lights as they receded, to tell them to come and take her.  You’ve taken half of her, he shouted.  You’ve taken the same half of her twice.  Now goddam have the decency to take the rest of her.

Some of the others joined in, but they didn’t come back, none of them.  They left and left us with a girl who, no matter how you looked at her, you saw her from the back.  She didn’t eat or if she did, did so in a way we couldn’t see.  She just kept turning in circles, walking backwards and knocking into things, trying to grab things with the backs of her hands.  She was a whole girl made of two half girls, but wrongly made, of two of the same halves.

After a while we couldn’t hardly bear to look at her.  In the end we couldn’t think what to do with her except leave her.  At first her mother protested and bit and clawed, but in the end she didn’t want to take her either—she just wanted to feel better about letting her go, to have the blame rest on us.

We nailed planks across the door and boarded up the windows.  At Verl’s request, we left the hole in the roof in the hopes they would come back for her.  For a while we posted a sentry outside the door, who reported to the lodge on the sound of her scrabbling within, but once the noise stopped we gave that up as well.

•

Late at night, I dreamed of her, not the doubled half of the girl we had, but the doubled half we didn’t. I saw her, miles above us, in air rarefied and thin, not breathable by common means at all, floating within their vessel.  There she was, a girl who, no matter where you turned, always faced you.  A girl who bared her teeth and stared, stared.

[unexplained-events]

Vintage Halloween Kid’s Costumes 

[vyscera]

Based on true events

[vampireapologist-archive-deacti]

Scary Stories.

[weirdcorepython]

Wake up darling.. We miss you..

[glitch-tv]

[florescentlcvesickness]

[dashnthebookhouseboys]

Robert the doll

Robert the doll is an allegedly haunted doll exhibited at the East Martello Museum. Robert was once owned by Key West, Florida painter and author, Robert Eugene Otto.

The doll originally belonged to Robert Eugene Otto, an artist described as "eccentric" who belonged to a prominent Key West family. The doll was reportedly manufactured by the Steiff Company of Germany, purchased by Otto's grandfather while on a trip to Germany in 1904, and given to young Otto as a birthday gift. The doll's sailor suit was likely an outfit that Otto wore as a child.

The doll remained stored in the Otto family home at 534 Eaton Street in Key West while Otto studied art in New York and Paris. Otto married Annette Parker in Paris on May 3, 1930. The couple returned to the Otto family home in Key West to live there until Otto died in 1974. His wife died two years later. After their deaths, the Eaton Street home containing the doll was sold to Myrtle Reuter, who owned it for 20 years until the property was sold to the current owners, who operate it as a guest house.

In 1994, the doll was donated to the East Martello Museum in Key West, Florida, where it eventually became a popular tourist attraction. It is annually rotated to the Old Post Office and Customhouse in October.

According to legend, the doll has supernatural abilities that allow it to move, change its facial expressions, and make giggling sounds. Some versions of the legend claim that a young girl of "Bahamian descent" gave Otto the doll as a gift or as "retaliation for a wrongdoing". Other stories claim that the doll moved voodoo figurines around the room, and was "aware of what went on around him". Still other legends claim that the doll "vanished" after Otto's house changed ownership a number of times after his death, or that young Otto triggered the doll's supernatural powers by blaming his childhood mishaps on the doll. According to local folklore, the doll has caused "car accidents, broken bones, job loss, divorce and a cornucopia of other misfortunes", and museum visitors supposedly experience "post-visit misfortunes" for "failing to respect Robert".

[sonicallycohesive]

It put on different faces so that we’d be still and quiet. While it digested.

[fyeahcreepyshit]

Let him in...

6,697 votes and 472 comments so far on Reddit

3,599 votes and 248 comments so far on Reddit

3,643 votes and 345 comments so far on Reddit

5,145 votes and 453 comments so far on Reddit

[blxckfly-deactivated20240712]

i almost got kicked out of university for creating this comic so i never got to finish it 

[deathtown-deactivated20241014]

It Chapter Two (2019)

[sixpenceee]

Horror art by Stefan Koidl

[rainy-autumn-day]

[sixpenceee]

Another compilation of extremely creepy halloween make-up. I’ll be posting halloween content all month long!

[enchantingtheoristdetective]

Holy shit this is amazing

[sugarcoatednightshade]

Meanwhile I cant even use eyeliner without messing up

[weirdlandtv]

Illustrations from THE ILLUSTRATED GUIDE TO YOKAI MONSTERS by Japanese artist, Shigeru Mizuki (1922-2015).

[sinisterstories]

My Dad Kidnapped Little Girls

I don’t ever remember my dad being normal. He was always a little strange. The man was secretive and closed off, and all his attempts at acting like a father rose the hairs on the back of my neck. It seemed forced. I don’t think I ever got used to that. There was no need, because he didn’t keep that up for long. By the time I was 5, I didn’t have a dad. What I had after that was a boss. Maybe an owner. Definitely not a dad.

He fully opened up as a person around that time. He brought a little girl into our home. She was small, but she was older than myself, too. Maybe 7 or 8. Her face was red and raw with tears. “Sam, this is your new little sister, Maria.” Before I could react, she spoke up between small sobs. “No, mister. I don’t know you. My name is Claire. Please take me home to my mommy, I promise that I won’t tell.” By the time she finished what she was saying, she was barely forming coherent sentences. That’s when I saw my Dad stop being my dad. With one fluid motion, he swung his arm, hitting her in the face and knocking her back on her ass.

I jumped up, too afraid and confused to do much of anything, but still frightened nonetheless. I was young, but I’d seen enough television to know that normal families didn’t do these things. “Sam, you sit your ass down or I’ll put you in the ground, you hear me?” Thus marked the loss of my father. Later, as I listened to the quiet cries of the girl, now locked in the room next to mine, he sat me down and explained that he wasn’t my father. He told me things a 5 year old should never hear. My life changed forever. I was a mistake.

The little girl was with us for a while. My dad left me at home while he went to the mall, buying all kinds of nice things for Maria. Claire. Whatever. He probably blew $500. The weeks afterward were strange, disgusting, and violent all at the same time. At the best, she would play along with his games and he would be happy. At the worst, I would have to listen to her screams as he did unspeakable things to her in the next room. After, when the screaming would stop, he would come to me and give me the same speech.

“This happens because you aren’t right, you understand? You should have been born a girl. We wouldn’t have to do this. She’s going to die someday because you’re trash.” He would walk to the door and finish with “Remember, Sam. No one out in that world will ever love you. If you try to leave, I’ll find you and I’ll kill you.”

Maria died about three months after my dad took her. This day wasn’t her first attempt at escape, but instead it was her last. Truly, I do not know if my father meant to kill her or not. He became consumed in his rage and I fought back tears as he continued to hit her and hit her, over and over again. Her little light went out as she choked on blood, gurgling sounds coming from her throat. She was buried in our back yard, right next to the playset that my father bought a year before. After that, he became nervous to the point where he packed me up and we started off on the road.

We lived like that for years. Sometimes, we’d live somewhere as long as a year, but that was the extent of it. On a good year, he’d take two or three girls without so much as a second look. People didn’t necessarily suspect him, though. He was a psycho, but the man was smart too. He would falsify documents and references, getting himself jobs as close to children as possible. I remember, one time, he was hired on to be an ice cream truck driver. He snatched up a little girl he called Gloria right in front of her house. He somehow managed to finish his route, too. She only lasted two months.

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