Night Terrors Blog @nightterrorsblog - Tumblr Blog

I know it's been years but...

I can't think of a better community to come to for help!

My dog Nellie, who is the most loving, most cuddly, happiest dog in the world, has a mass on her gums. It needs to be removed so we can find out if it's cancerous and because if we leave it, it will grow and grow until she can't eat anymore.

Our gofundme is only $300 away from it's goal. Please help me help my baby. Donate, share, everything helps!

This is Nellie. We rescued her 5 years ago from a shelter 2 hours away fro… Christine Druga needs your support for Fund Nellie's Ur

#Horror #Creepypasta #Dog #Puppy #Animals #Gofundme #please help

headspace-hotel

i don’t know why anyone has to feel insecure about their bodies, when objectively, humans are all freakish horrors. Every last one of us. Hairless, fleshy, gangly beasts walking upright straight as a tree with bony tentacles on the ends of our limbs.

you have a hole in your face full of sharp bones and you’re worried that your belly is a little squishy

headspace-hotel

broke: all bodies are beautiful!

woke: all bodies are made of warm meat wrapped around wet bones with blood-plump organs stuffed inside. rad

fall1ngfeather

Actually, your face isn’t filled with sharp bones! Bones are derived from the mesoderm, one of three tissue layers in very early embryonic development that diversify into all of the organs in the body. Teeth on the other hand, come from the ectoderm. So congrats! Your face isn’t filled with sharp bones- it’s filled with sharp skin! Have fun!

headspace-hotel

I HATE that

kumabearsweetheart-deactivated2

@nightterrorsblog

My cat of 15 years, Ramjet, passed away on Friday 08/23/2019. On Thursday night I noticed he was acting a little strange-- he was staring at

If you're familiar with the r/nosleep community, chances are you've come across PennyTailsup.

Her precious kitty, Ramjet, passed away recently and she needs some help with the vet bills. Any little bit helps, even just a share.

#GoFundMe #pet loss #r/nosleep #donate #donations #fundraising

I thought the neighbor kids were messing around in my yard. I was wrong.

It started with a Nerf dart.

I went outside to let my dog, Nellie, in from the back yard and found her holding a green foam dart in her mouth. Knowing that that couldn’t possibly be good for her stomach, I wrestled it away from her and threw it in the trash once we were inside. I made a mental note to talk to my neighbor about her kids jumping the fence and coming into my yard.

Two days later, I went outside to mow the lawn and found a water pistol leaning against the trunk of the tree in the one corner of the back yard. I pocketed it and grumbled to myself about how kids these days don’t respect boundaries. How tall does a fence have to be to say “keep out”?

That night, while I was settling into bed, I heard a loud *crack* from the back yard. I put my slippers on, then went out to investigate the sound. A branch of the tree had fallen down. When I went to move it, I found a jump rope tied around the middle.

*This is getting out of hand.* I thought to myself as I walked through the house. It was nearly 11 pm and these kids were not just playing in my yard, they were causing damage. I put my sneakers on and walked next door.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bill. The kids went to bed almost 2 hours ago. And I don’t even think Jenny *has* a jump rope.” After the unsatisfying talk with Mrs. Freeline, I walked down their driveway and turned around. I searched the upper levels of the house for signs of children being awake. All of the windows were dark with no movement to be seen. I grumbled to myself for the second time that day about stupid kids and went home to bed.

Over the next 4 days, I found a dirty and deflated soccer ball, a GI Joe that looked like it had been blown up with firecrackers, and a plastic stethoscope with what looked like dried chocolate on the piece you would push against the patient’s chest. Each time I found a new toy, I would simply place it in the middle of my neighbor’s driveway. I figured if it annoyed them half as much as it annoyed me, they’d finally do something about their children.

It was a quiet Saturday evening when there was a knock at my door.

“You really have to stop doing this, Bill.” Mr. Freeline was holding the stethoscope that I had left them yesterday in my direction with a look of disgust on his face. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, and I’m hoping that’s dog shit and not your own on the pad there. If this keeps up, we’re going to have to get the police involved.”

“*You* are?! It’s *your* fucking kids that are trespassing on my property and leaving shit around for Nellie to chew up and choke on! And you’re out of your damn mind, that’s chocolate or something. Maybe you should ask your boys what kinda candy they had instead of coming over here with this bullshit.”

Mr. Freeline tossed the stethoscope at me and I caught it out of instinct. “Chocolate doesn’t smell like that, Bill. This is the only warning you’re gonna get. Stay away from my house and my family.”

I looked at the round piece at the end of the blue plastic stethoscope as Mr. Freeline stormed across my front yard back to his house. Out of curiosity, I sniffed the brown substance that was caked to it.

“What kind of sick fuck?” I yelled at Mr. Freeline’s back. It was definitely shit. When I looked a little closer, I could see three little fingerprints in a row at the edge, like whoever wiped the feces on the thin plastic had used the edge to get the last of it off of their fingers. Little bastard probably got to a pile Nellie had left before I could and decided to up their irritation game.

Fuming, I tossed the toy into one of my outside garbage cans. I didn’t want disgusting thing in my house. I washed my hands thoroughly and went back to watching TV until it was time to turn in.

It was almost midnight when I shut the TV off and went to the kitchen to grab a drink of water before heading to bed. As soon as I turned off the faucet, I heard a quiet giggle through the window that looked out on my back yard. *A-ha*, I triumphantly thought, *I’ll catch those little assholes red handed!*

I stormed out of the back door and stopped dead in my tracks before even getting off the stoop. The yard was quiet and empty, and the only movement was the leaves of the tree in the corner swaying slightly from the wind. There was no way the kids got out of there that quickly. As angry and certain as I was, I couldn’t deny that fact.

“You’re losing your mind, BIll,” I said to myself as I turned and walked back into the house. “You’re too old for this shit.”

I locked the back door and turned to Nellie, who was sitting a few feet away with her head cocked, staring at me.

“Let’s go to bed, girl. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

For the first time ever, Nellie didn’t nearly knock me over when I started walking up the steps. Normally, she was curled up on my bed with her head on my pillow before I even reached the top of the stairs. That night, she stayed in the kitchen, staring quietly at the back door. She didn’t jump on the bed until about 10 minutes after I laid down. I figured she was perplexed by my getting all worked up and brushed it off as I went to sleep.

I don’t know what time it was when the scream woke me, but it was still dark outside. I jumped out of bed and stumbled my way downstairs to the front door, swinging it open without thinking twice. My heart hammered in my chest while I stood on my front porch in my pajamas. I looked around me frantically, sure the scream was close but not knowing which direction it came from. The neighborhood was quiet and still. There was no sign of any kind of commotion that comes with a blood curdling shriek in the middle of the night. After convincing myself that I must have dreamed it, I turned around to walk back into my house.

I was blocked by Nellie was standing in the open doorway. She was facing away from me, staring down the hallway into the dark kitchen at the back of the house. The fur along her back was standing straight up. I had never heard her growl so menacingly as I did at that moment.

Nellie snarled and barked a few times before taking off into the house. Scared that whatever had set her off would hurt her, I grabbed an umbrella off of the coat rack and ran after her into the dark. I flipped the kitchen light on as I rushed past the switch into the room just in time to watch Nellie throw herself against the back door. She jumped and scratched at the wood with such force that I worried that she would bust through it. When I grabbed her collar to pull her away, she snapped at my hand before realizing it was me. Once she noticed I was there, she sat obediently and stared at the door she was so desperate to get through a moment ago.

I ran my hand through the fur on the back of her neck a few times to comfort her. Once she relaxed a bit, I went to the back door and flipped on the light that sat on the other side of it. I didn’t see anything at first when I looked through the small window, but I strained my eyes and kept looking. The only things Nellie ever barked at were cats and school buses, and she had *never* sounded anywhere near as vicious as she had a few minutes before. Something was up, I just didn’t know what.

Once I was satisfied that there wasn’t an intruder in my backyard, I flipped the light back off and turned back to Nellie. She sat a few feet behind me with her mouth open in her typical smile, tongue hanging out the side and all. *The dog’s crazier than I am,* I thought to myself as I lead her back to bed. I spent the rest of the night in a fitful sleep.

When I woke in the morning, the events of the night before were fresh in my mind. I walked slowly and carefully into the kitchen with my eyes glued to the back door. There were a few marks in the wood from Nellie’s freak out, but no other signs that anything had ever happened.

After loading up the coffeemaker and turning it on, I opened the back door and called for Nellie. Normally, she would come thundering down the steps and nearly run me over on her way out the back door. Instead, she damn near tiptoed into the kitchen and stopped a few feet away. She looked out of the open door, sniffed the air, and whined.

I asked her what was wrong and turned my head to see what she was staring at so intensely. There, lying in a heap at the base of the tree - where I wouldn’t have been able to see due to the deep shadows cast by the leaves in the middle of the night - was the corpse of a little boy with a clearly broken neck. He held an old toy car tightly in one hand, and a broken branch in the other.

#r/nosleep #horror #fiction #short story #creepy #creepypasta #creepy pasta #scary story #tw: child death

This amazing book launches on Monday, and I'm in it!

Over 13 days and nights, terrible things befall the residents of Serenity Falls. Did the residents of this small town simply snap, or is something more sinister at work there?

Follow the link below to get the book and find out!

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1093647760/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i1

#book #horror #r/nosleep #fiction #spooky #scary #promotion

Do you like scary stories? Do you like Tarot cards? Check this out!

Two wonderous ladies put together a deck of nosleep inspired Tarot cards! Each card has artwork based on a different nosleep story, and the artwork is absolutely incredible.

I'm very proud to have my own story, Pop Go The People, represented on one of the cards!

There are lots of awesome perks (including stickers!) if you donate. Click the link and see for yourself!

We need less than $1000 to be fully funded. Please please PLEASE donate if you can, and spread the word about this awesome project!

A deck of tarot cards featuring your favorite horror authors from sites like Nosleep and artists from around the world.

#horror #scary stories #nosleep #r/nosleep #r/shortscarystories #tarot #tarotreading #tarotcommunity #tarot deck

adzolotl

you call it “really bad at darts”, I call it freestyle acupuncture

kumabearsweetheart-deactivated2

I’m just trying to help with your sciatica. You’re WELCOME, Michael.

nightterrorsblog

I'm just imagining you throwing darts at @mmkelleywrites.

sixpenceee

Behind You: One-Shot Horror Stories by Brian Coldrick

my-chemical-angel

i love this!!

kumabearsweetheart-deactivated2

@nightterrorsblog

dungeongrind

The Very Hungry Rust Monster is a mini-comic I made a few years back. I’ve seen it floating around Tumblr without attribution recently, so I’ve uploaded a higher-resolution version, properly credited.

compostyourego

@scvmcvnt

Taking a break from scary stories to ask for some help.

My cousin found out today that his 10 year old daughter has a tumor on her brain stem. The prognosis isn't good. Her 18 year old brother started a GoFundMe to take her to Disney World. If you can spare a couple dollars, please help get her there.

I’m Sebastian, Savannah’s 18 year old brother and recently we discovered that Savannah has a tumor on her brain stem or DIPG(pontine gli

#gofundme #charity #cancer #fuck cancer #donate #donation

writing-prompt-s

An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.

eatbreathewrite

It isn’t uncommon for this particular demon to be summoned—from exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more exhausting) ceremonies in forests—but it has to admit, this is the first time it’s been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed, creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful ‘Home Sweet Home’s hung across the wood-paneled walls.

It’s a mistake—a wrong number, per se. No witch it’s ever known has lived in such an, ah, dated, home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if they’d up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didn’t work that way. Not at all. Not if they want to survive the encounter.

It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacent—the kitchen, going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It moves—feels something slip beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top, as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger. It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into this strange place.

As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.

Now, to be fair, the demon wouldn’t ordinarily second guess being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless) grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.

“Todd! Todd, dear, I didn’t know you were visiting this year! You didn’t call, you didn’t write—but, oh, I’m so happy you’re here, dear! Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a heart attack. And don’t worry about the blood, here—I had an accident. My favorite figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didn’t go as expected. But I seem to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and ‘edgy’ stuff these days, so I don’t suppose you mind.” She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isn’t mocking, it’s sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. “Imagine if it leaves a scar! It’d be a bit ‘badass,’ as you teenagers say, wouldn’t it?”

She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear, because the demon is by no means a ‘Todd’ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only because it had been caught off guard.

The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. “Be a dear and make some more coffee, would you please? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues, while others discuss how many souls they’d swindled in exchange for peanuts, or how many first-borns they’d been pledged for things idiot humans could have gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic that little detours like this were a blessing—happy accidents, as the humans would say.

That’s why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. That’s why it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully, so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine with fresh grounds. It’s as the hot water is percolating that the old woman returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.

“I’m surprised you’re so tall, Todd! I haven’t seen you since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the time—you do love wearing all black, don’t you?” She takes a seat at the small round table in the corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. “I was starting to think you’d never visit. Your father and I have had our disagreements, but…I am glad you’re here, dear. Would you like some cake?” Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated with icing.

It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesn’t seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that smells like an antique garage that hadn’t had its dust stirred in years.

Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.

The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite ‘thank you,’ but it doesn’t suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners regardless.

“Oh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so deep, just like your grandfather’s was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? It’s alright, dear, I’ll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.”

The demon merely nods—some communication can be understood without fail—and drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. It’s ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love that must have gone into its creation.

“I hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You never write back—but I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime. I know of a wonderful little café down the street we can go to. I haven’t been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before he…well.” She falls silent in her rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind that.” Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. “I may as well give you your birthday present, since you’re here. What timing! I only finished it this morning. I’ll be right back.”

When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning circle is bundled in her arms.

“I found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the library. I thought you’d like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the winter chill—I hope you do like it.” With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket over the demon’s broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders and patting its arms affectionately. “Happy birthday, Todd, dear.”

Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, he’s clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.

voidbat

this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.

bigmammallama5

i had to

geniusorinsanity

I WOULD WATCH SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE

rocky-horror-shit-show

Okay but she takes him to the little cafe and all of the people in her town are like “What is that thing, what the hell, Anette?” and she’s like “Don’t you remember my grandson Todd?” and the entire town just has to play along because no one will tell little old Nettie that her grandson is an actual demon because this is the happiest she’s been since her husband died.

Bonus: In season 4 she makes him run for mayor and he wins

silvermoonphantom

I just want to watch ‘Todd’ help her with groceries, and help her with cooking, and help her clean up the dust around the house and air it out, and fill it with spring flowers because Anette mentioned she loved hyacinth and daffodils. Over the seasons her eyesight worsens, so ‘Todd’ brings a hellhound into the house to act as her seeing eye dog, and people in town are kinda terrified of this massive black brute with fur that drips like thick oil, and a mouth that can open all the way back to its chest, but ‘Honey’ likes her hard candies, and doesn’t get oil on the carpet, and when ‘Todd’ has to go back to Hell for errands, Honey will snuggle up to Anette and rest his giant head on her lap, and whuff at her pockets for butterscotch. Anette never gives ‘Todd’ her soul, but she gives him her heart

wickedwitchofthewifi-deactivate

In season six, Anette gets sick. She spends most of the season bedridden and it becomes obvious by about midway through the season that she’s not going to make it to the end of the season. Todd spends the season travelling back and forth between the human realm and his home plane, trying hard to find something, anything that will help Anette get better, to prolong her life. He’s tried getting her to sell him her soul, but she’s just laughed, told him that he shouldn’t talk like that. With only a few episodes left in the season Anette passes away, Todd is by her side. When the reaper comes for her Todd asks about the fate of her soul. In a dispassionate voice the reaper informs Todd that Anette spent the last few years of her life cavorting with creatures of darkness, that there can be only one fate for her. Todd refuses to accept this and he fights the reaper, eventually injuring the creature and driving it off. Knowing that Anette cannot stay in the Human Realm, and refusing to allow her spirit to be taken by another reaper, so he takes her soul in his arms. He’s done this before, when mortals have sold themselves to him. This time the soul cradled against his chest does not snuggle and fight. This time the soul held tight against him reaches out, pats him on the cheek tells him he was a good boy, and so handsome, just like his grandfather. Todd takes Anette back to the demon realm, holding her tight against him as he travels across the bleak and forebidding landscape; such a sharp contrast to the rosy warmth of Anette’s home. Eventually, in a far corner of his home plane, Todd finds what he is looking for. It is a place where other demons do not tread; a large boulder cracked and broken, with a gap just barely large enough for Todd to fit through. This crack, of all things, gives him pause, but Anette’s soul makes a comment about needing to get home in time to feed Honey, and Todd forces himself to pass through it. He travels in darkness for a while, before he emerges into into a light so bright that it’s blinding. His eyes adjust slowly, and he finds himself face to face with two creatures, each of them at least twice his size one of them has six wings and the head of a lion, one of them is an amorphous creature within several rings. The lion-headed one snarls at Todd, and demands that he turn back, that he has no business here. Todd looks down, holding Anette’s soul against his chest, he takes a deep breath, and speaks a single word, “Please.” The two larger beings are taken aback by this. They are too used to Todd’s kind being belligerent, they consult with each other, they argue. The amorphous one seems to want to be lenient, the lion-headed one insists on being stricter. While they’re arguing Todd sneaks by them and runs as fast as he can, deeper into the brightly lit expanse. The path on which he travels begins to slope upwards, and eventually becomes a staircase. It becomes evident that each step further up the stair is more and more difficult for Todd, that it’s physically paining him to climb these stairs, but he keeps going.

They dedicate a full episode to this climb; interspersing the climb with scenes they weren’t able to show in previous seasons, Anette and Honey coming to visit Todd in the Mayor’s office, Anette and Todd playing bingo together for the first time, Anette and Todd watching their stories together in the mid afternoon, Anette falling asleep in her chair and Todd gently carrying her to bed. Anette making Todd lemonade in the summer while he’s up on the roof fixing that leak and cleaning out the rain gutters. Eventually Todd reaches the top, and all but collapses, he falls to a knee and for the first time his grip on Anette’s soul slips, and she falls away from him. Landing on the ground. He reaches out for her, but someone gets there first. Another hand reaches out, and helps this elderly woman off the ground, helps her get to her feet. Anette gasps, it’s Charles. The pair of them throw their arms around each other. Anette tells Charles that she’s missed him so much, and she has so much to tell him. Charles nods. Todd watches a soft smile on his face. A delicate hand touches Todd’s shoulder, and pulls him easily to his feet. A figure; we never see exactly what it looks like, leans down, whispering in Todd’s ear that he’s done well, and that Anette will be well taken care of here. That she will spend an eternity with her loved ones. Todd looks back over to her, she’s surrounded by a sea of people. Todd nods, and smiles. The figure behind him tells him that while he has done good in bringing Anette here, this is not his place, and he must leave. Todd nods, he knew this would be the case. Todd gets about six steps down the stairway before he is stopped by someone grabbing his shoulder again. He turns around, and Anette is standing behind him. She gives him a big hug and leads him back up the stairs, he should stay, she says. Get to know the family. Todd tries to tell her that he can’t stay, but she won’t hear it. She leads him up into the crowd of people and begins introducing him to long dead relatives of hers, all of whom give him skeptical looks when she introduces him as her grandson. The mysterious figure appears next to Todd again and tells him once more he must leave, Todd opens his mouth to answer but Anette cuts him off. Nonsense, she tells the figure. IF she’s gonna stay here forever her grandson will be welcome to visit her. She and the figure stare at each other for a moment. The figure eventually sighs and looks away, the figure asks Todd if she’s always like this. Todd just shrugs and smiles, allowing Anette to lead him through a pair of pearly gates, she’s already talking about how much cake they’ll need to feed all of these relatives.

captaintinymite

gilajames

P.S. Honey is a Good Dog and gets to go, too.

kaijufluffs

jumpingjacktrash

the last lines of the show:

demon: you’re not blind here – but you’re not surprised. when…?

anette: oh, toddy, don’t be silly, my biological grandson’s not twelve feet tall and doesn’t scorch the furniture when he sneezes. i’ve known for ages.

demon: then why?

anette: you wouldn’t have stayed if you weren’t lonely too.

demon: you… you don’t have to keep calling me your grandson.

anette: nonsense! adopted children are just as real. now quit sniffling, you silly boy, and let’s go bake a cake. honey, heel!

honey: W̝̽̂̿͂͝Ọ̮̹̲̪̋ͦͅO̸̘͔̬͊F̜̫͙̟͕͖̙̋ͫ͌͗

thehoneybeewitch

that addition is a+ :)

iopele

THE ONLY ENDING I WILL EVER ACCEPT FOR THIS

americanninjax-deactivated20191

hardykat

Every time this post shows up on my dash, it gets better (and more heart wrenching. Y’all! Stop cutting the onions okay?!).

cell113

If ever don’t reblogging this, I’m either dead, dying, or buried under cat.

My Childhood Home Is Haunted

Every town has that house. The unsettling dwelling that children tell spooky stories about and dare each other to get close to (but only in the daytime). The rundown structure that adults throw concerned glances at and wonder how long it will take the town leaders to take action over.

I used to live in that house.

It wasn’t always so decrepit. It used to be just as nice as the rest of the neighborhood, before the anguish and terror inside led to the outside becoming just as ugly and frightening.

You see, that house has always been haunted, but not by ghosts. Drunken yelling, broken glass, and thrown fists are scarier than any apparition I could imagine as a child. No matter how many lights were on, it was always dark there. Darker than the bruises that covered my mother’s body. Darker than the slurred threats that were spat from my father’s lips. Fear and desperation could block out the sun with their heavy shadows.

As I grew taller and stronger, though, a different kind of darkness followed me. Hatred for my father and resentment for my mother became stronger than any other emotion I could hold. As soon as I was able, I left that place behind and never looked back.

Well, I can’t say never. 30 years later, I got a phone call from a lawyer. Apparently my mother had lost her battle to cancer 10 years or so after I had left, and my father had just recently been found in his favorite chair with a gun in his lap, surrounded by various liquor bottles and brain matter.

Despite never doing a responsible thing in his life, my father had gotten his affairs in order before pulling that trigger. I accepted the meager amount of money that was left after paying debts and the law firm, then threw his ashes in the garbage and went to prepare the house to go on the market.

My childhood prison was already in a state of disrepair. I wish I could say I was surprised, but dear old dad was always too drunk to mow the lawn, let alone do any kind of maintenance or repairs that weren’t necessary to survive our miserable existence. I got to work cleaning the place up and taking notes of the things that needed done in order to sell the place and get it out of my life again.

After a week of bagging up trash and sorting through piles of belongings that were destined to be sent to Goodwill, I found my father’s suicide note.

The neighbor kids say this place is haunted. They’re right. I would know. Every ghost in this house is here because of me.

I scoffed at his attempt to be deep, and took a little bit of joy in the fact that he seemed to realize how much he fucked up our lives in his final moments. I did find it odd that he would try to be poetic when the most profound thing I had ever heard him say was “shut up and get me another beer”.

My confusion only lasted a few moments, though, before I saw her: a woman in her 20’s or 30’s, who wore a torn dress covered in blood and pale skin covered in deep wounds and bruises. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream as she pointed toward the next spirit, who wore similar injuries and the same pained expression as she pointed to the next. I followed 17 spectral women - each one battered, broken, and pointing to another - until I arrived at the padlocked basement door.

The women gathered behind me, and their screams were no longer silent. They grew louder and louder until I was sure my head was about to explode, then suddenly stopped. When I removed my hands from my ears and opened my eyes, the padlock was on the floor and the door was slightly open.

I descended the stairs with 17 decaying apparitions just behind me, pushing me forward. An 18th damaged woman, who stood awkwardly on a clearly broken leg, pointed at the door that led to the space under the front porch where coal was stored way back when. I opened the door cautiously, careful to ensure that I was not in a position to be pushed in by my unearthly companions. The bulb hanging from the basement ceiling behind me cast just enough light on the bones for me to see what they were.

The police presence didn’t help the house’s reputation, and it didn’t take long for everyone in the small town to know exactly why they were there. It still stands empty, deteriorating further every day. Apparently it’s a popular place for teenagers to break into every year around Halloween, looking for ghosts and a chance to prove how brave they are.

They’ll never find anything, though. There are no ghosts in that house. I know because they’re here with me. Staring. Screaming. Pointing.

#r/nosleep #creepy #creepypasta #creepy pasta #ghosts #tw:abuse #horror #short story #scary #haunted house #haunted

GLOBOPHOBIA - PATIENT RECORD HB198610D

Patient Name: Harrison, Brenda

Age: 32

Sex: Female

Diagnosis: Globophobia, fear of balloons

The following journal entries were retrieved from the patient’s home on 02/07/2018 by Agent 14.

9/24/2017

My therapist wants me to document my “attacks”, so here I am.

I went bowling with Kevin today. There was a kid’s birthday party happening when we got there. I used my breathing exercises and tried to ignore the balloons they had tied everyfuckingwhere so that I could relax with my boyfriend and have some fun. It worked for a while, but when the party ended and the adults were cleaning up their mess, a yellow balloon came loose and floated up to the ceiling. No one could reach it and I guess it hit some air flow from a vent or something, and it floated right down to my lane.

I swear to God, the fucking thing stopped dead right above me and started to sink down like I was wearing a magnet for it or some shit. I ran into the bathroom and stayed there until Kevin helped one of the employees get it down and came and got me. He says he understands, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he thinks I’m being stupid.

9/27/2017

Went to the store today. They decided to decorate for football season, apparently. Black and yellow balloons are tied to every damn register. I remembered the birthday party shit and walked out. I guess I’m ordering pizza tonight.

10/3/2017

Fuck that clown. Kevin says he was just being nice, but I swear to God that bastard was mocking me. “Take a balloon, ma’am, they’re free! No strings attached, I promise! Except the ones that keep them from flying away! HONK HONK I promise they don’t bite!” Get bent, you Pennywise looking asshole.

Kevin says I overreacted and that I embarrassed him. We got into a big fight and he left. Now he won’t answer my phone calls. Guess that’s over.

10/10/2017

Started a new medication today. Maybe this will work better than the hypnotherapy and other meds did. It fucking better. I hate needles.

10/14/2017

Got home from work today to find a yellow balloon tied to the doorknob on my front door. It had an angry face with sharp teeth drawn on it.

I went in through the back door and called my neighbor, but he wasn’t home. I could see the balloon through the window on the door. It had turned so that the face was looking at me. I barricaded myself in my bedroom and hid under my blankets, but I could still feel the fucking thing watching me.

My neighbor called me when he got home a couple of hours later, but he said there wasn’t a balloon on my door when he checked. Whoever put it there must have cleaned up the evidence.

It had to have been Kevin. Fuck you, Kevin.

11/16/2017

I was doing so well! I was able to go back to the store with the football decorations the other day and actually buy something. Sure, I had a panic attack in my car afterward, but it was progress! I thought the medicine might have been helping, but how much can anything help when someone decides to torment you?

There was another yellow balloon with a face drawn on it tied to my TV remote today. This face looked angrier and meaner than the last one. I ran outside and called the cops when I found it. It was gone when they got there. They looked all over the place to see if whoever left it was still in the house, but nope. They also didn’t find any clues pointing to how he got in.

This is so fucked up. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE.

11/25/2017

Had an emergency appointment with my therapist today. I keep having nightmares about the fucking balloons. I can’t sleep. Everytime I close my eyes, I dream about angry yellow balloons chasing me, watching me, hurting me. Last night I dreamt that a bunch of them tied me down with ribbon and ate me alive. I can still hear the sounds of the balloons rubbing together while they fought for space to take bites. Ugh.

I’m afraid to leave my house and give that asshole another opportunity to fuck with me.

The therapist encouraged me to stay on my new meds and call the cops when I don’t feel safe. What if I never feel safe?

11/30/2017

Woke up this morning and went to make myself some breakfast. When I opened the refrigerator to grab the eggs, a yellow balloon flew out at me. The face on it was really twisted this time, and it kept coming toward me no matter what I did. I started throwing stuff at it, but it kept coming. I passed out at some point.

I guess my neighbor heard the commotion and called the cops. They were there when I woke up. The balloon wasn’t.

12/5/2017

Went to the hospital today. I went out to grab my mail and when I turned around to walk back into the house, I spotted a yellow balloon with a fanged smiley face drawn on it floating in my living room window. I guess I stumbled backward and stepped off of the curb, right into the path of a dude riding his bike down the street.

I have a concussion and some nasty bruises, but I’ll be alright, I guess. I saw the doctor who gives me my shots on my way out. He was super focused on reading something in a blue notebook, so I didn’t bother him.

Surprise, surprise. The balloon wasn’t there when I got home. I thought about reporting it to the police again, but at this point the only thing that’s gonna get me is a nice vacation in a padded room. The cops that came last time were thinking about it, I could tell.

I’m not crazy. I just want this to stop. I don’t think I can take much more.

12/9/2017

I’ve seen angry yellow balloons literally everywhere I go. Doctor is worried that my concussion is worse than they thought. MRIs are loud and uncomfortable.

12/20/2017

My therapist thought it would be a good idea to bring a yellow balloon out during my session today. Stupid bitch. “You need to face your fears, Brenda.” Fuck that shit. I bet she set up the camera so she could laugh at my reaction later with her buddies. “Clinical study” my ass.

I tried. I really did. Then Satan’s party favor started coming at me and I started screaming and crying like a fucking baby. Bitchface let it push me into a corner before she took it away. She said something about static electricity making it attracted to me, but I could tell she was making shit up to placate me. She seemed more interested in scribbling notes about the incident than actually convincing me that it was totally normal. I’m not stupid.

1/2/2018

Another one popped out of my closet this morning and rushed at me when I opened the door. Its eyes were colored red and its fangs were so big that it took up half of the balloon. I grabbed my softball bat and swung at it. When I made contact, it burst and this black goo sprayed everywhere. It got all over my arm and burned my skin. I wiped the goo off and went to the hospital.

I’m not crazy. The 2nd degree burns under the bandage on my arm tell me so.

So where the hell did the balloon corpse and all the black goo go?

1/9/2018

My arm isn’t healing. The burn is this gross brownish color. I think it’s infected. The balloons keep appearing, but they’re keeping their distance. Like they’re watching me, waiting for something.

1/14/2018

I swear to God the fucking burn is spreading and it’s turning yellow. My therapist says it looks the same to her as it did last week. Useless bitch.

1/20/2018

I’m writing this from my bed, hiding under the covers like a fucking child. There are like 10 yellow balloons floating in my bedroom. Every single one of them has this creepy smile drawn on. I tried to call the cops, but my phone is dead. I could have sworn I plugged it in last night.

I can hear them laughing at me through the covers. My arm burns. I think it’s swollen too.

I don’t know how long I’ve been under here. I keep dozing in and out. I’m starving, but those fucking things are still there. I tried to get out of my bedroom, but they swarmed me and I dove back under my covers.

I took the bandage off of my arm. It’s not even covering the wound anymore. The burn itself takes up my entire forearm, and my whole arm is yellow like an old bruise and so swollen that I can’t even bend it. It smells as badly as it burns.

I heard someone knocking. My whole body is so swollen that I can barely move. It took all of my energy just to roll onto my stomach so I could write. I don’t know if the balloons took away my blanket or if I kicked it off at some point. They are on top of me now. I can feel them covering my back and legs. They’re so warm.

I think I’ll die here. Maybe the balloons will float me away.

To the offices of Dr. Verland,

First, I’d like to thank you.

I was skeptical when you insisted that your serum would make me better. I realize now that it was working even when I thought it was making things worse. My mind and body had to break before they could become stronger. I know that now.

I thought the balloons were threatening. I thought they were terrifying. I know now that they were watching, waiting not for the time to strike, but the time to act.

While my body swelled, stretching further than I thought possible, I prayed for mercy. I prayed for the strength to get me through pain worse than I had ever felt. I didn’t realize until I began to deflate that I was granted both.

I barely recognize myself in the mirror. My malleable yellow skin and razor sharp teeth are rather unsettling to look at, but my transformation will prove quite useful.

You see, my floating friends didn’t just give me physical gifts.

I know who you really are. I know what you’re doing. Your whole foundation will fall faster than a popped balloon.

#r/nosleep #creepy #creepy pasta #creepypasta #horror #short story #fiction #phobia

paper-mario-wiki

NORMALIZE the thing that looks like an old man living in your basement

DESTIGMATIZE the act of closing your vent to stop his dry whispering– which you cannot tell whether it is random or directed at you– from reaching you

ROMANTICIZE the idea of counting the number of stairs he climbs each night and praying he never makes it to the top

paper-mario-wiki

GUYS THIS IS SO IMPORTANT

we HAVE to let people know its okay to experience:

being repulsed by the putrid smell of his bile

feeling sick when seeing your grandparents because of the thing in your basement

locking your bedroom door even though you know it wouldnt be enough to stop him

letting your faucets run for a few seconds every morning because ever since he arrived more and more of your tap water had come out black as ink

knowing exactly what he looks like even though the only time you ever saw him was your first encounter with him at your uncle’s funeral when you were 6

questioning why youre the only one who remembers your dog

why cant anyone else remember your dog

what happened to your dog

oh my god i can still hear him whimpering downstairs some nights

i dont know if its actually him or just that thing taunting me

hoofbeast

@normal-horoscopes

kumabearsweetheart-deactivated2

@nightterrorsblog

faerph

Some Stock Photo Sign Reminders To The RPC From Your Friendly Neighborhood Psychotic Because As Much As I Love Halloween I Am Actively Scared Of This Shit!!

happy goddamn halloween (some of these have captions)

If I ever try to make a deal with the devil again, I’ll summon a smarter demon.

I drew the pentagram and symbols on the hardwood floor, lit the candles, and chanted the incantation that was written in the ancient leather-bound book. Squaring my shoulders and setting my jaw might have made me look more confident, but I was nervous as hell. I doubt anyone would blame me. Summoning one’s first demon is more than slightly terrifying, but I needed to do it. I had tried everything else I could think of to set my crumbling life back on track, and supernatural intervention was my last resort.

Thick black smoke swirled within the circle of symbols as tortured screams filled the room. Just a few short minutes after I had spoken the last word of the spell, a giant creature stood before me.

It sniffed the air before locking it’s bulging orange eyes on me. I imagine it would have narrowed them in its expression of disgust, but it didn’t have any eyelids. It wrinkled it’s bulbous nose and brought its thick, chapped lips into a sneer around two thick fangs.

“HUMAN, WHY YOU BRING ME HERE?” Its voice boomed, like it was speaking through a microphone and my ear was right next to the speaker.

“I - I - uh..” I stammered, “I want to make a deal with you.”

Its rotund belly bounced as it laughed hysterically for a moment.

“I MAKE NO DEAL, DUMB HUMAN.”

“What?! Why not?!” I demanded. “The book said-”

“BOOK WRONG. HUMAN SOUL WORTH NOTHING, LIKE HUMAN.”

“No! I did not waste all this time and money for some idiot demon to tell me it was for nothing. You’re going to help me, or I’ll-”

I was interrupted by an angry roar. The demon clenched it’s clawed fingers into a fist and came at me, splintering the wood beneath its enormous hooves with each step.

I don’t know if the creature didn’t see the ceiling fan because the room was dark or because it was so furious that it wasn’t paying attention, but I was given the opportunity to run when its head smashed through the wooden blades and the globe around the bulb shattered.

The abandoned house where I had performed the ritual was unfamiliar to me, and I prayed that I was running toward the exit as the demon crashed through the door of the empty room I had chosen for my venture. It slammed into the wall and raced after me, stumbling over decaying furniture left behind by the long-gone inhabitants of the dwelling.

I let out a half-victorious, half-terrified yell as I found the stairs to the first level and began my hurried descent. Just as I reached the front door near the base of the steps, I heard a deafening yelp followed by a loud crash.

The demon had tripped at the top of the stairs and tumbled down them. Once it’s massive body hit the landing at the bottom, the floor collapsed and the monster fell to the basement below.

The sudden silence intrigued me, so I cautiously walked to the giant hole in the floor and peered through it.

The creature let out a groan and gingerly sat up while rubbing its head. It looked around the rotting basement before shifting its gaze up at me. The dazed look on its face was replaced by one of embarrassment, followed by one of fury.

It got on its feet and reached for the remnants of the floor above. When it realized that it couldn’t quite reach, it jumped. You would think that such a powerful creature would have no problem leaping the 2 feet it needed, but it wasn’t even close. When it landed, one of its hooves awkwardly hit some rubble, and the beast fell on its back. It growled in frustration, sat up, and glared at me intensely. I suddenly felt freezing cold and blazing hot at the same time, and decided that was the time to get out of dodge. I ran to my car and thanked God that I picked a place in the middle of nowhere. At least no one was in imminent danger if that thing ever escapes.

At least if it decides to attack you, you’ll hear it coming from a mile away.

#creepy #creepypasta #creepy pasta #horror #short story #fiction #demons #r/nosleep