Let's get a creepy thread going

First, let me say that many, not all, of the stories I will post are from "that site". Regardless of what you think that site has excellent paranormal section, so I'd like to give credit where credit is due. Please contribute to the thread as best you can. Add images, stories - long or short, .gifs. I don't care. Let's just care the living crap out of each other.

Also, I hate .gifs that are a story but has a image that jumps out at you while you are reading. If you post one...I. Will. Find. You.

Sources:http://www.gothic.net/, That site, creepypasta.com, Yahoo answers,

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Daddy I had a bad dream

"Daddy, I had a bad dream." You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it's 3:23. "Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?" "No, Daddy." The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in the darkness of your room. "Why not sweetie?" "Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up." For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can't take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.

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The hotel room

A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed. The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye.

What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to. This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn't make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.

At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, "Did you look through the keyhole?" The man told her that he had and she said, "Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red."

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The Tugging (A Coming of Age Tale of Terror!)

Kevin woke to a strange sensation. As if something within him was shifting. Changing. Tugging. He stretched his muscles and yawned. He opened his eyes and was startled by what he saw at the foot of his bed. A hooded figure silhouetted in the moonlight stood before his bed. He turned on the lamp on his bed stand to get a better look.

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes he got a better look at the figure. He appeared to be an gaunt old man wearing a yellow rain slicker. In his hands was a fishing rod. A lined from the fishing rod stretched toward the bed and under his bedspread and covers. Again. The tugging.

Kevin threw off the covers and discovered, to his horror, that the fishing line led between his legs. Upon further inspection with his fingers, he discovered the line went right up his anus! Shock! Terror! TUGGING!

Slowly and with confidence the salty old fisherman began to reel in his catch! Kevin squeeled with discomfort as the line stretched taught and tugged at his insides. The line seemed snagged and would not seem to reel any further. Then fisherman gave the line a gentle pull and Kevin moaned in pain. No good. The line would not seem to give any further. The old man then gave a violent jerk at the rod and Kevin howled in terrible anguish!

Left! Right! and Left again the old man yanked the rod, struggling to bring in his trophy! Kevin felt something within him give and slip a bit. The pain was unbearable! "Almost there" croaked the seasoned huntsman. "I've been seeking this one out for years. He's a sneaky devil, but I've caught him at last!"

The fisherman then gave one more mighty yank and reeled in hard! Kevin screamed and the line finally began to come in. With a hideous pop and a wet, sloppy sound the end of the line evacuated from Kevin's body. "Yarr!" hollered the fisherman in triumph! Raising his rod over his head.

At the end of the line was the biggest catfish Kevin had ever seen! "WOW!" he exclaimed. "He looks mighty fine, mister!". "Aye" said the fisherman, "Now come and join me with the feasting". Kevin hesitated. The bass was so magnificent! Such a marvelous creature. Surely such a creature who had put up such a valiant fight deserved better.

The old fisherman could read the boys face. "Yer right, son. He's too good. We should cast him back. Let someone else share the joy I've had hunting him all these years". Kevin agreed, "You're a good man, mister fisherman. Cast him back".

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I don't have any scary stories. Here's a funny one instead.

A day before his 15th birthday, the son of a wealthy family was asked by his father, `Well my son, what would you like for your birthday?'

The son hesitated a moment and his father's thoughts leapt ahead to a new computer and similar things. However, his son had had a new computer only recently and could have a new one any time he wished.

Finally, the son said, `Father, I have everything a boy could wish for, but there is one thing I would really like. I would love to have a pink ping pong ball.'

The father was rather astonished at this wish, but said, `If it is a pink ping pong ball that you want, a pink ping pong ball you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his birthday present a pink ping pong ball.

The boy took the ball to his room and the next morning the pink ping pong ball was gone. The father was mildly surprised but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong ball, however, was never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 16th birthday, the father asked his son what he would like for his birthday.

`Father,' replied the son, `I have everything a boy could possibly wish for, but there is one thing I would really, really like. I would love to have a ten pack of pink ping pong balls.'

The father was more surprised than the year before, but kept his curiosity at bay, for he knew that his son had a right for privacy. he said therefore, `If it is a ten pack of pink ping pong balls that you want, a ten pack of pink ping pong balls you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his birthday present a ten pack of pink ping pong balls.

The boy took the ten pack of balls to his room and the next morning, not a single ball remained, merely the empty husk of the ten pack. The father wondered where ten pink ping pong balls might disappear to, but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong balls, however, were never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 17th birthday, the son was asked by his father what he would like for his birthday.

`Father,' said the son to this, `I have everything a boy could wish for, but one thing would make my happiness complete. I would dearly want a carton of pink ping pong balls.'

The father was beyond surprise, but decided to make sure he had not misheard. `A carton of pink ping pong balls?'

`A carton of pink ping pong balls,' the boy confirmed.

`I can't understand your fascination with pink ping pong balls,' said the father, `but if it is a carton of pink ping pong balls that you want, it is a carton of pink ping pong balls that you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the boy was given as his birthday present a carton of pink ping pong balls.

The boy was delighted and took the carton to his room. The next day, miraculously (as if by magic, even) the pink ping pong balls had all disappeared.

`Dear son,' said the father, `I must ask now, what do you do with all those pink ping pong balls?'

The son, however, was reluctant to tell him. `Please humor me, dear father.'

The carton of pink ping pong balls, however, was never seen again.

The next year, it was clear that the son would get a car, but the father felt that, perhaps, his son also had some other wish apart from the obvious. So, one day before the son's 18th birthday, the father asked him whether he had a special wish for his birthday.

`Dearest father,' the son started, `I have everything a young man could possibly want, but there is one craving in me. I would, more than anything, want a warehouse full of pink ping pong balls.'

One of these years, his father thought, I should get to the bottom of this. However, he decided to humor his son's wish. At least he had been wise enough to buy shares in a pink ping pong ball factory.

The next day, the son was given the address of a warehouse where all his new pink ping pong balls were stored. The son was delighted and decided to spend the next night in the warehouse rather than at home.

The following morning, the son stepped out of the warehouse, but it seemed to be empty otherwise. The father had a closer look and indeed, apart from empty cardboard boxes, nothing was left inside the warehouse. No pink ping pong balls were left.

The following year, one day before the son's 19th birthday, the father braced himself for another warehouse of pink ping pong balls. He asked his son what his deepest desire was and he had not been entirely wrong.

`Father, you have made me very happy these last years and this year I ask of you a shipload of pink ping pong balls if at all possible.'

It was possible, if only because the father had by now bought each and every factory of pink ping pong balls in the country.

The next day, the father took his son to the harbor and showed him a huge tanker and told his son that there were millions, billions, trillions of pink ping pong balls in there.

`Father,' the son said, `You've made me very happy yet again.'

That night, the son was rushed to the hospital. His father came rushing to his aide. He asked if there was anything the boy wanted.

'Father,' the son said, 'My whole life you've given me everything I could ask for. But there is one last thing I would like. I would like a ten pack of ping pong balls.'

The father was dumbfounded, but as this was his son's wish, he did so. He bought a ten pack of pink ping pong balls. When he brought them back to the hospital, he held the m over his son.

'Son, before you get these, I would like to know what you did with all of the ping pong balls.'

'Sure,' the son replied, 'I—I--'

Then he died.

didnt really get the last one.

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The End

On his way home that night, as he walked through town, a man stepped out of an alley in front of him. He tensed to defend himself, but the man just stood there. Looking him over, he realised the man looked like a hippie. Something of a comedy caricature of a hippie, really. Long unwashed hair and beard, sandals…and a sandwich board reading 'THE END IS NIGH'. That, he thought, was unusual, even for a hippie.

"You want something?" he asked.

"The world's ending," said the hippie. "I need your help."

He stepped around the hippie and kept walking. High as a kite, he thought to himself. The hippie started walking after him, and fell into step beside him.

"Please, I need your help," said the hippie.

"Look, man, I'm really not interested," he said, and kept walking.

The hippie leant against a wall, watching him walk away. The hippie wasn't all that disappointed; lots of people gave this kind of response. Another skeptic, he thought to himself, fingering the ragged holes through the middles of his hands.

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Drip, Drip, Drip

One night a young girl, Lily Foster, is left alone for the night, in her country house, while her parents drove out to town for a party. This was fine with Lily, especially since she had her faithful dog, Scout, protecting her throught the night. She made herself something to eat, and sat down at the kitchen table. Turning on the radio to her favorite station, she was surprised to hear a news bulleten declaring that an avenged murderer was on the loose. It advised that people secure all windows and doors as a safety precaution.

With her dog by her side, the young girl locked the front and back doors. She went from window to window, and locked each of them one at a time. She reassured herself that she would be fine with her trusty dog, and that her parents would be home shortly, anyway. So, Lily had a pleasant, peaceful evening, and finally decided around eleven o'clock that it was time for bed. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, and slid under the big, warm blanket on her bed. Before closing her eyes, reached her hand down under the bed, and allowed her dog to lick it- she did this every night, because it comforted her. A short while later she awoke to the sound of a scratching noise at her bedrooom window.

She eyed the window, and reminded herself that the whole house was locked and she was safe. She stuck her hand under her bed and felt her dog's slobbery tongue cross over the palm of her hand. She sighed and went back to sleep. An hour or so later she sat up in bed...She had heard footsteps in the hallway, and crept out of bed to see if it was possibly just her parents returning from their party. Seeing nothing, she returned to bed. As she was about to stick her hand under the bed, she heard a drip, drip, drip, followed by some footsteps. She walked downstairs into the kitchen and secured the the taps. That surely wasn't the source of the drip. She crept upstairs and climbed into bed. "This is silly," she told herself "I'm probably just imagining things."

She stuck her hand under the bed, and felt the dog lick her hand. An hour later she awoke again. A little mad at this point, she jumped out of bed. The dripping wasn't coming from the kitchen so it must be from the bathroom. She crept along the side of the hallway, and walked into the bathroom. She groped along the side of the wall with her left hand, looking for the light switch. She flicked the light on and gasped. There, hanging from the shower rod was Scout-skinned-a pool of blood had formed on the bathroom tile with a continuous 'drip, drip, drip' as the blood from the dog hit the ground. Something on the wall caught her eye; written on the wall was a message in blood..."Humans can lick too."

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Arabella

A little girl, named Penny Warren, was given a small doll by her parents. The doll was a gift from an ancient great aunt who had now passed on. Penny was instantly unnnerved by the doll, which had nasty little black eyes that seemed to follow her around the room and a sinister grin on her face. Nevertheless, Penny had to accept the doll, as she was well brought up and didn't want to upset her parents by refusing to take it. Her parents told her that the doll's name was Arabella, which made Penny even more afraid of it; it seemed to make it more human. Even so, it was just a doll, barely reaching above her knee, so to put her mind at rest, she hid Arabella into the little cupboard under the stairs, under some boxes where her parents wouldn't see her.

It wasn't until a few nights later, when Penny was lying in bed, that she heard a noise...a shuffling sound that went on for about five minutes.

Then, a brief dragging noise and finally, a scuttling like light footsteps running very fast. Penny was paralyzed with fear, her knuckles turning white from clutching her blanket. Then, she heard a voice - soft and eerily childlike - quiet enough not to wake her parents. Penny always slept with the door open and the lamp in the hall on, as she was still a little scared of the dark.

Therefore, she could hear more through her open door.

Penny heard the voice say "Penny, I'm on the first step"

...And then a loud scrabbling again, as whatever was speakingapparently turned tail and returned to wherever it had come from. The little girl didn't sleep a wink that night, but laid in fear until the break of dawn when her mother got her up for school and when she tried to explain what had happened, her parents passed it off as "just a dream".

The next night, Penny fought against sleep, but eventually drifted off, only to be woken again by the sinister voice: "Penny, I'm on the fifth step" Penny was crying by now, and again, she didn't sleep that night. The next night, Penny decided to shut her bedroom door and reluctantly slept without the light on. Just as she was about to doze,

Penny heard the noise, and then the voice: "Penny, I'm on the top step..." Penny knew that her door was closed, but she was still terribly afraid. Her heart pounding, she slowly go up to investigate; she screamed. Penny's parents found her body at the bottom of the stairs. They guessed she was on her way to the bathroom without switching on the hall light and had fallen down the stairs, breaking her neck. Arabella, the favorite family doll, was found beside her body - smiling.

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Upstairs

When I was a child I lived in a rented two-floor house. Both my parents worked so I was often alone when I came home from school.
One early evening when I came home the house was still dark.
I called out, "Mum?" and heard a voice say "Yeeeeees?" from upstairs.
I called my mum again, and again got the same "Yeeeeees?" reply.
I felt she was calling back at me and climbed up the stairs.
When I reached the first floor I called her once more and the voice "Yeeeeees?" came from the furthest room.
I felt both uneasy, but a strong urge to see my mother, and started to walk towards the room.
But just that moment I heard the front door downstairs open and my mother come in, carrying a lot of shopping bags.
"Sweetie, are you home?" my mother called in a cheery voice.
Hearing her voice made me feel instantly better and I turned back to go downstairs at once…but not before I had a quick glance towards the room.
While I watched from the top of the stairs, the door to the room slowly opened a crack.
For a brief moment, I saw something strange in there.
A pale face, staring at me.

*gets creep on* :twisted:

Daddy I had a bad dream

"Daddy, I had a bad dream." You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it's 3:23. "Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?" "No, Daddy." The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in the darkness of your room. "Why not sweetie?" "Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up." For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can't take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.

clayron

What is the girl referring to?

Creepy eel likes creepy thread

edit: removed my other pic since ****ing photbucket has a resolution limit that made the pic unreadable

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I don't sleep anymore

Earlier this week, on Sunday night, I had a dream in which I knew I was asleep. I was stood outside of my house in torrential rain at night and thought I needed to get inside in order to wake up. I approached the front door and placed my knuckles onto the door-window ready to knock. I knew that my next action would bring me one step closer to consciousness. The moment I knocked on the door, the thudding sound of the knock was so loud, so frightening and so real that it woke me from my sleep.

BANG BANG BANG

I jumped up immediately and listened out for a further knock at the door. I was roasting hot, sweating profusely and my heart was beating so hard, I don't think I would have been able to tell the difference between a knock at the door and my thudding heart beat. After I came to my senses and realised that the possibility of the door knocking at the exact moment of dreaming it is incredibly low, I fell back to sleep.

Monday, the very following night, I had the same dream. Right back outside the front of the house in the pouring rain again, intensely staring at the house. I slowly walked to the front door, this time it was open. I walked in and went straight into the kitchen. I opened the cutlery drawer and pulled out the largest meat knife I have. I looked into my reflection through the blade of the knife.

If you stare directly into the reflection of your eyes for long enough, eventually it will hit you that someone is looking at you. You know it's your reflection, but for just a second, you forget and become self conscious, as if it's somebody else behind your reflection's eyes. It didn't take a second of looking at my reflection through the blade to realise that somebody else was looking back. The moment I realised it was somebody else wearing my grin in the reflection, I slammed the cutlery drawer shut.

BANG

Again, I shot up out of bed. The sound of the metal clanging in the drawer as it abruptly closed was so defined and so crystal clear, it couldn't have been a dream. Really spooked this time, I went downstairs into the kitchen. I was half asleep and had to check. I opened the cutlery drawer. I was relieved to find the knife still in the drawer. I closed it and went back to bed. It took a little longer this time, but I fell asleep.

Tuesday night, my dream started with that grin in the reflection. From the look in his eyes, I could tell that the man in the reflection knew he was looking back at someone confused and scared. I found myself looking into the reflection of the knife, already in my hand, while stood outside of my house in the rain. The front door was open again. I walked into the house, directly up the stairs and into my bedroom. I looked at the bed and saw someone sleeping in it. It was me.

I knew what I was going to do, but also knew that I couldn't stop myself. Instead, I kept think over and over again "Wake up". My emotions were both in two extremes at once. I was terrified, but at the same time I was thrilled and excited to kill. "WAKE UP!"

I shot right out of bed and stood up. I was absolutely drenched in sweat, roasting hot, but relieved to find nobody stood in front of me with a knife. It took a few seconds to realise that I was gripping something tight in my hand. I knew what it was even before I looked down at it and saw my reflection in it. It was the meat knife, and this time the reflection in it looked terrified.

I don't sleep anymore.

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Evaporation

Water.

Water is the cornerstone of life. It nourishes us, irrigates our crops and waters our livestock. Water is vital for all known forms of life. We rely on it to wash our cars, clean our food and produce our power. It has an effect on almost every activity in everyday life. Without it, civilisation would cease to function. Governments would collapse, crippled by an undefeatable enemy – drought. It would be a matter of days – no longer than a week – before every living being on Earth perished. In short, we cannot live without water.

Two days ago, we were forced to begin doing just that.

I don't know how it began. Nobody left alive does. During the initial hours of it, theories ranged from the barely plausible, like a new form of greenhouse gas, to the ridiculous, such as a new type of light, one that only evaporated water. I remember those hours fondly – the true enormity of what had happened had not yet sunk in and hysteria had not yet clutched the human race.

What happened?

I'll put it simply.

The first was that every single drop of freshwater on the entire planet evaporated instantly.

I don't think I can do this event justice, but I'll try.

Can you imagine every single river, every single lake, every single natural source of water drying up instantly, without rational explanation? I doubt you can, but that's exactly what happened. It wasn't restricted to natural sources, either. As far as I can tell, all the bottled water in the world also evaporated, as did that in water tanks and other similar sources. It also disappeared from other substances, including soft drinks, creating foul sugar compounds that would make those that consumed it quite ill. There was not a single drop of freshwater left anywhere on Earth for anybody to drink.

But by far the worst result of the lack of water was the nuclear reactors.

Without pressurised water, most of the nuclear reactors in the entire world – those that utilise purified water as coolant – had no available sources of coolant, and just under half of these had poor or untested failsafe plans. The resulting effect of this led to catastrophic nuclear meltdown in roughly 46% of water-cooled reactors. The world, already reeling from the unprecedented situation, fell into total anarchy.
International communication ceased after almost exactly twenty-four hours after it began.

But there was a second effect.

The saltwater poisoning.

Many people flocked to desalination plants in the first few hours, hoping for salvation.

They found none.

At approximately the same time as the worldwide evaporation, saline increased by fivefold in every sea or ocean on Earth. Desalination plants were able to cope with this load for approximately twenty hours. Then, fuel began to run low – and with the imminent collapse of civilisation thanks to the multiple nuclear catastrophes, no more was delivered. Thus, the last ever drop of freshwater on Earth was pumped out no later than midnight yesterday.

After the drought came the collapse.

With no water available, civilisation soon descended into anarchy. Governments, typical of authority to the very end, tried maintaining order. It didn't work. Soldiers rebelled, shooting rioters and runners alike. Those who didn't die were brutally executed moments after. They turned on each other soon enough, with only a few militaries intact from the carnage. The deserters fled, unwilling to stay and watch the extinction of Earth.

But then came the worst, far worse than anything before it.

There was, in fact, one source of water that hadn't been touched.

I'm so lucky I realised before anyone else in my town.

It was blood.

Blood, which is over 90% water, was the only remaining liquid fit to drink.

And so some did.

At first, I didn't believe it. It was too horrific.

Animals went first. The desperate drank the blood of cats, dogs, pets and feral animals of all kinds. Many offered too little blood to be of any value. The situation was made worse by the fact that I live in a rather large metropolitan city and beyond domesticated pets and the odd feral animal, there was no animals to catch and drink from. Perhaps those in the country fared better – I have no way of finding out, and frankly I don't really care.

I knew then that humans were the only other option.

I first saw it twelve hours ago.

An elderly man, dressed in nothing but a torn dressing gown, slowly made his way down the street that ran in front of my house. He called for help desperately, croaking out that his entire nursing home was dead or dying, that the nurses had fled and that he was looking for help. He was so pitiful that I almost opened my door, if only to offer him some respite from the midday sun, and some of my sparse rations.

If I had been a second faster, I would not be writing this.

Before I could open the door, three people – two men and a woman – pounced from the shadow of a nearby tree. The poor old bastard had no chance. They leapt upon him, frenzied in their dehydration, and set on him with makeshift tools. It was the most terrifying spectacle of my entire life. One of the men had a hammer – he set about bashing the man's joints in, one by one. Crack. Crack. Crack. I retched bile each time the hammer slammed into bone, so sickening was the crunch. The other had a gardening hoe. He hovered above the elderly man, bringing the makeshift weapon down once, twice. The tool cut through the man's ankles like a knife through a steak.

The metaphor made me vomit. After I did, I looked back, if only to satisfy my own growing horror.

Oh, how I wish I hadn't.

The woman, who was weaponless save for her own two hands, had straddled the man's chest. Her hands were spread on the screaming man's face as her own companions butchered him. Then, even as I watched, she dug her thumbs into his eyes. He howled like nothing I had ever heard before. She dug harder, pushing inwards and outwards simultaneously. When they were pulled free, blood and some even less discernible liquid splattered all over her. She grabbed them and ate them like fruit. I could hear the chewing sounds from my door. They bent to consume the precious blood and I turned away.

I call them the Drinkers.

There's one thing I want to make very clear about them. They aren't zombies. Nor are they affected by some external force that forces them to drink the blood of humans, such as a virus or disease. They are entirely human. I suspect that dehydration affects them worse than it does others and this forces them to drink from humans in a form of pseudo-cannibalism or perish. They represent the dark side of humanity. The Drinkers also seem to recognise each other through some subtle signal. Not being a Drinker, I wouldn't know it.

As fast as I possibly could, I took my meagre supplies, some small comforts, this journal and my .357 Desert Eagle up into my bedroom. I pushed the bed against the door with my rapidly fading strength and piled furniture on it. The Desert Eagle has a full clip of seven, and I have one spare. Enough for thirteen Drinkers and - well, I'm sure you can imagine.

—

Another six hours have passed. I can really feel the dehydration now. My tongue feels numb and my skin feels like sandpaper. I tried to eat some bread before and I almost choked, with no saliva to moisten my throat. Now I'm hungry as well as thirsty. I don't even know why I've kept writing this. Maybe it's something to occupy me during the final hours of mankind. Maybe I hold some hope that a solution will be found and somebody in the future will read this and remember what it was like. Maybe I'm just delusional.

—

It's getting worse. I'm breathing heavily and becoming more and more lethargic. This room feels like a sauna. I can almost see the heatwaves bouncing across the room, becoming more and more intense until I am literally cooked alive. It's not a pleasant vision. My pen keeps slipping from the page as I suffer random bursts of weakness. I'm scared I won't even be able to pull the trigger if the time comes.

—

I'm so terribly thirsty. The last time I urinated it burned. I haven't defecated for a long time now. My vision's fading in and out and my head feels like it's going to split open from the intense pressure inside. My skin is so dry and leathery. I know I'm dying, but I've still got the Desert Eagle. Maybe I should kill myself before I lose the strength to do so. God knows it's better than dehydrating to death or letting the Drinkers get me.

—

so thirsty
its dark and i've lost the gun
vision almost gone
so THIRSTY
i'm going mad
i'm dying
wait
what's that
so thirsty
somebody's knocking at the door
they want to be let in
they say the drinkers are coming
should i
i don't know
maybe i'll go get a drink.
i'm so thirsty.

I like the way your hair smells, Clayron.

[spoiler] Creepy enough? :D [/spoiler]

Before I moved a couple months a go, I had a keyboard (piano type keyboard) setup and the keys depressed while i was sitting next to it. I had other weird stuff happen at that house, like cabinets shut on their own, but that was the weirdest thing that happened

Can creepy videos count? :|Dgalmun

The Hotel Room for the win. :o

[QUOTE="Dgalmun"]Can creepy videos count? :|clayron

Note: The video doesn't end when it goes black. It'll come back in the 5th minute, if you get too bored, just skip to the 5th minute.

Ill help with the atmosphere:

Sorry nothing to contribute :( but does anyone have a link to that site with the pictures of the dolls hanging in the abandoned house? I remember it was in the middle of nowhere and there were full sized dolls hung from the ceiling, I've been looking for it for ages.

No introduction necessary. Sweet dreams!

Head_of_games

I really wish I had the copypasta that goes with this.

Uploaded with ImageShack.us

This is pretty creepy:Theokhoth

Jesus, I'd say. What the hell?

[QUOTE="Theokhoth"]This is pretty creepy:AngrySpider

Jesus, I'd say. What the hell?

.

I don't have any scary stories. Here's a funny one instead.

A day before his 15th birthday, the son of a wealthy family was asked by his father, `Well my son, what would you like for your birthday?'

The son hesitated a moment and his father's thoughts leapt ahead to a new computer and similar things. However, his son had had a new computer only recently and could have a new one any time he wished.

Finally, the son said, `Father, I have everything a boy could wish for, but there is one thing I would really like. I would love to have a pink ping pong ball.'

The father was rather astonished at this wish, but said, `If it is a pink ping pong ball that you want, a pink ping pong ball you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his birthday present a pink ping pong ball.

The boy took the ball to his room and the next morning the pink ping pong ball was gone. The father was mildly surprised but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong ball, however, was never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 16th birthday, the father asked his son what he would like for his birthday.

`Father,' replied the son, `I have everything a boy could possibly wish for, but there is one thing I would really, really like. I would love to have a ten pack of pink ping pong balls.'

The father was more surprised than the year before, but kept his curiosity at bay, for he knew that his son had a right for privacy. he said therefore, `If it is a ten pack of pink ping pong balls that you want, a ten pack of pink ping pong balls you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his birthday present a ten pack of pink ping pong balls.

The boy took the ten pack of balls to his room and the next morning, not a single ball remained, merely the empty husk of the ten pack. The father wondered where ten pink ping pong balls might disappear to, but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong balls, however, were never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 17th birthday, the son was asked by his father what he would like for his birthday.

`Father,' said the son to this, `I have everything a boy could wish for, but one thing would make my happiness complete. I would dearly want a carton of pink ping pong balls.'

The father was beyond surprise, but decided to make sure he had not misheard. `A carton of pink ping pong balls?'

`A carton of pink ping pong balls,' the boy confirmed.

`I can't understand your fascination with pink ping pong balls,' said the father, `but if it is a carton of pink ping pong balls that you want, it is a carton of pink ping pong balls that you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the boy was given as his birthday present a carton of pink ping pong balls.

The boy was delighted and took the carton to his room. The next day, miraculously (as if by magic, even) the pink ping pong balls had all disappeared.

`Dear son,' said the father, `I must ask now, what do you do with all those pink ping pong balls?'

The son, however, was reluctant to tell him. `Please humor me, dear father.'

The carton of pink ping pong balls, however, was never seen again.

The next year, it was clear that the son would get a car, but the father felt that, perhaps, his son also had some other wish apart from the obvious. So, one day before the son's 18th birthday, the father asked him whether he had a special wish for his birthday.

`Dearest father,' the son started, `I have everything a young man could possibly want, but there is one craving in me. I would, more than anything, want a warehouse full of pink ping pong balls.'

One of these years, his father thought, I should get to the bottom of this. However, he decided to humor his son's wish. At least he had been wise enough to buy shares in a pink ping pong ball factory.

The next day, the son was given the address of a warehouse where all his new pink ping pong balls were stored. The son was delighted and decided to spend the next night in the warehouse rather than at home.

The following morning, the son stepped out of the warehouse, but it seemed to be empty otherwise. The father had a closer look and indeed, apart from empty cardboard boxes, nothing was left inside the warehouse. No pink ping pong balls were left.

The following year, one day before the son's 19th birthday, the father braced himself for another warehouse of pink ping pong balls. He asked his son what his deepest desire was and he had not been entirely wrong.

`Father, you have made me very happy these last years and this year I ask of you a shipload of pink ping pong balls if at all possible.'

It was possible, if only because the father had by now bought each and every factory of pink ping pong balls in the country.

The next day, the father took his son to the harbor and showed him a huge tanker and told his son that there were millions, billions, trillions of pink ping pong balls in there.

`Father,' the son said, `You've made me very happy yet again.'

That night, the son was rushed to the hospital. His father came rushing to his aide. He asked if there was anything the boy wanted.

'Father,' the son said, 'My whole life you've given me everything I could ask for. But there is one last thing I would like. I would like a ten pack of ping pong balls.'

The father was dumbfounded, but as this was his son's wish, he did so. He bought a ten pack of pink ping pong balls. When he brought them back to the hospital, he held the m over his son.

'Son, before you get these, I would like to know what you did with all of the ping pong balls.'

'Sure,' the son replied, 'I—I--'

Then he died.

GHlegend77

After I was halfway through I thought it might be one of these jokes. I like telling these to people in person... The looks on peoples faces are priceless.

Alright, I have a picture, but its really freaky. Last time I posted it, I got suspended for 7 days. If you want to see, say you want to see it in the thread. I will then post it in a spoiler tag so people who dont want to see it dont have to. But I need to know who wants its because I may end up getting suspended again.

Alright, I have a picture, but its really freaky. Last time I posted it, I got suspended for 7 days. If you want to see, say you want to see it in the thread. I will then post it in a spoiler tag so people who dont want to see it dont have to. But I need to know who wants its because I may end up getting suspended again.

clyde46

I am not so good at writing creepy stories, I am better with science fiction and that is not really a good genera to write short stories for, I have one but I don't know where it is unfortunately. Apparently I am pretty good, my writers workshop teacher can tell that I wrote a specific story because they are usually outlandish and end with the universe being destroyed by a huge black hole.

.

Head_of_games

You do not know the cold chill that shot down my spine when I saw those :evil:

[QUOTE="clyde46"]

Alright, I have a picture, but its really freaky. Last time I posted it, I got suspended for 7 days. If you want to see, say you want to see it in the thread. I will then post it in a spoiler tag so people who dont want to see it dont have to. But I need to know who wants its because I may end up getting suspended again.

Head_of_games

Anyone up for salad fingers?

(This is seriously the scariest thing alive)

This is pretty creepy: Theokhoth

[QUOTE="Theokhoth"]This is pretty creepy: supa_badman

I guess that's a face only a mother could love :P

[QUOTE="Head_of_games"][QUOTE="clyde46"]

Alright, I have a picture, but its really freaky. Last time I posted it, I got suspended for 7 days. If you want to see, say you want to see it in the thread. I will then post it in a spoiler tag so people who dont want to see it dont have to. But I need to know who wants its because I may end up getting suspended again.

clyde46

thought i would help :)

[QUOTE="supa_badman"]

[QUOTE="Theokhoth"]*image*AngrySpider

I guess that's a face only a mother could love :P

[QUOTE="clyde46"][QUOTE="Head_of_games"] You aren't going to put up a shot from The Grifter, are you? Don't do it, man.Xeros606

This might have me interested...

[QUOTE="Xeros606"][QUOTE="clyde46"] Its not that that. AngrySpider

This might have me interested...