I have no energy in me to get scared. :( I feel so mellow.
This topic is locked from further discussion.
That was a good book. The pictures are what creeped me out the most.[QUOTE="legend26"]
excuse me while im in fetal position
Steak_And_Eggs
No one after this point will sleep tonight. Be afraid and creeped to hell and back.
Link. Not sure if already posted. :P
LightR
I remember when I first watched that when I was a kid, all I did was lol like crazy.
:shock: Woah.That was really interesting...The Angel
A few years ago, a mother and father decided they needed a break, so they wanted to head out for a night on the town. They called their most trusted babysitter. When the babysitter arrived, the two children were already fast asleep in bed. So the babysitter just got to sit around and make sure everything was okay with the children. Later that night, the babysitter got bored and went to watch TV, but she couldn't watch it downstairs because they did not have cable downstairs (the parents didn't want children watching too much garbage). So, she called them and asked them if she could watch cable in the parent's room. Of course, the parents said it was ok, but the babysitter had one final request… she asked if she could cover up the angel statue outside the bedroom window with a blanket or cloth, at the very least close the blinds, because it made her nervous. The phone line was silent for a moment, and the father who was talking to the babysitter at the time said, "Take the children and get out of the house… we will call the police. We do not have an angel statue."
The police found all three of the house occupants dead within three minutes of the call. No angel staue was ever found.
clayron
Here is another.And another:Russian researchers in the late 1940's kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn't kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.
The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during world war II.
Everything was fine for the first 5 days, the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.
After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself...
After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the lenght of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it... or rather didn't react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.
So did the whispering to the microphones.
After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.
They announced: "We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the doors and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom."
To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: "We no longer want to be freed."
Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.
The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in 'life.'
The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject's thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four 'surviving' test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.
The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.
Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep...
To everyone's surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject's teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.
In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word "MORE" over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.
The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake...
The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.
The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.
When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple "Keep cutting."
The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.
Only one response was given: "I must remain awake."
All three subject's restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military 'benefactors' for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.
In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone's surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.
The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.
He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. "I won't be locked in here with these things! Not with you!" he screamed at the man strapped to the table. "WHAT ARE YOU?" he demanded. "I must know!"
The subject smiled.
"Have you forgotten so easily?" The subject asked. "We are you." "We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind." "We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread."
The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject's heart and fired.
The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out "so... nearly... free..."
It always has to be some crappy camera. :lol:i thought this was a little creepy the first time i saw it.
themagicbum9720
.clayronWow,that story about the Russian researchers was a really good read.It was long but definitely worth it.Ending was interesting...
[QUOTE="clayron"].AtomicBaconBitsWow,that story about the Russian researchers was a really good read.It was long but definitely worth it.Ending was interesting... *looks at name* well, *this* is just creepy....
The Other Watcher
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. She explained that it was a storeroom, and that it was out of bounds. She reminded him of this several times before allowing him upstairs. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed. However the insistence of the woman had piqued his curiosity, so the next night 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 incredibly pale. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while, was this a celebrity? The owners daughter? He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to. As he was still looking, the woman turned sharply and he jumped back from the door, hoping she would not suspect he had been spying on her. 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. He felt embarrassed that he had made the woman so uncomfortable, and hoped she had not made a complaint with the woman on the front desk.
At this point he decided to consult her for more information. After some gentle quizzing and the promise that the explanation would go no further than him she finally said "Well, I might as well tell you the story of what happened in that room. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in there, we find that even now, people get uncomfortable staying there. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red."
The Last Man On Earth
The last man on Earth came home one night. He turned the lights off, got into bed, then remembered he had left the TV on.
He reached for a match, and a match was put into his hand.
[QUOTE="Head_of_games"][QUOTE="clyde46"]
clyde46
:lol: :lol: :lol:
Well-played.
dont tell anyone though ;)I flinched. Damn you man..
[QUOTE="clayron"].AtomicBaconBitsWow,that story about the Russian researchers was a really good read.It was long but definitely worth it.Ending was interesting...
Could you explain it to me? I don't really get it :?
The Last Man On Earth
The last man on Earth came home one night. He turned the lights off, got into bed, then remembered he had left the TV on.
He reached for a match, and a match was put into his hand.
You win. I don't know what you win but goddamn it you ******* win. Well done.
C'mon guys keep this thread alive. BTW Here's my contribution:
The Doppelganger
Anita Rodriguez (not her real name) used to be a skeptic.
Even growing up in one of the notoriously haunted spots in New Manila--Balete Drive--she paid little attention to the various ghost stories and urban legends surrounding the place.
These things were a waste of time, she'd often tell herfriends whenever they indulged in a round of ghost story-telling. Now that she was a successful graphis artist in her 20s, she had even less time for such flights of fancy.
Pooh, she thought. When it comes to ghosts, Anita had one policy: Don't know, don't see, don't care. She didn't believe in ghosts. Not even the one that supposedly haunted her own home. The one that supposedly looked, talked and acted like her.
"Hey Annie, did you bring it?" her cousin Jessica accosted her at the buffet table, during a family gathering. It was the birthday of her Lolo Jaime and all her relatives were in attendance at the Big House in West Triangle.
Anita looked at her with a blank expression: "Wha..?"
"Don't you remember?" Jessica insisted, more than a little peeved.
"I called you up yesterday to remind you about the album of Eliza, the one with the debut pics. I wanted to show Mom the gown she wore so that we can have a similar one made for Trisha. I told you I'd drop by for it, but you said you'd bring it along when you came to the house this afternoon," Jessica patiently explained to her cousin. "So where is it?"
"You called up the house yesterday? What time was this?" Annie repeated, not quite comprehending the question.
"YESSSS!!!!! You answered! I don't remember exactly what time, but I'm pretty sure it was around lunchtime. I know because you even got mad at me for interrupting what you were doing. I think you were cooking carbonara for lunch," Jessica answered, somewhat exasperated already.
"Jess... there was NO ONE in the house yesterday. My mom and dad are still in Cebu, and the maid is on vacation. I spent the night at Toni's (her best friend) and came straight here today," she informed her cousin, before turning her attention to the lechon in front of her.
Her cousin was left speechless, mouth hanging open in disbelief.
Another time, she and Toni were at another friend's party. When they arrived, Toni zeroed in on the desserts at the buffet table in the dining room. Annie lagged behind to say hi to a group of friends she hadn't seen in quite some time.
After a while, Toni felt a hand tapping her on the shoulder.
"What're you eating? Pahinge (Give me)," Annie said, opening her mouth so that her friend can spponfed her some of the ice cream Toni was eating.
"Uy sarap (Wow, delicious)! Ube's my favorite!," Annie said in between mouthfuls.
"O, you changed?" Toni asked, noticing that Annie was wearing a different shirt.
"Yeah, the other shirt was too tight," her friend replied before wandering off to join the crowd on the patio.
Toni got another scoop of ice cream (Annie finished her share) and just as she was about to spoon it into her mouth, felt another tap on her shoulder.
"Hoy! Takaw. And daya mo, inuubus mo yung ice cream. Enge naman. Kaya pala hindi kita mahanap diyan, nandito ka pala sa buffet table. (Hey! You're such a glutton, you're not sharing the ice cream. Give me some! No wonder I couldn't find you, youre' hiding here at the buffet table)," Annie jokinly scolded her friend.
"Ano ka, inubos mo na nga yung sa akin kanina ah (You must be joking! You already finished my share awhile ago!)" Toni retorted, also in jest. "O, you changed again!! Akala ko ba masikip yang shirt na yan (I thought that shirt was too tight for you)?"
"What are you talking about?This is the shirt I wore when we arrived, don't you remember. I haven't changed my shirt. Why would I change my shirt? And for your information, I got to this buffet table just now. Isn't there any other ice cream flavor? I hate ube." Annie wondered aloud as she surveyed the other dessert. "Hmmm... I'll just get leche flan."
"But you WERE here, not 10 minutes ago! You finished all my ice cream because you said ube was your favorite! Ano ka ba (What are you thinking)?" Toni answered, starting to get spooked by what her friend was saying.
"Hello?? I;ve been with Chino and Mark in the sala since we arrived. They were asking about you, so I decided to go and look for you. Ask them pa," Annie said rather indignantly.
"Then who finished my ice cream?!?!" Toni shrieked, totally fraked out.
Annie shrugged . She and Toni ran out of the dining room.
The turning point for Annie, the incident that finally convinced her there are some things that cannot be explained came one early morning, as she was coming home from a night on the town.
It was around 4 a.m. and Annie and her cousin Eliza and Jessica were tiptoeing home to Annie's home after a "gimmick" in Makati.
All the three had drunk quite a bit but were still fairly sober.
"Shhhhh!!!" Annie shushed her two cousins, who were trying to stifle their giggles. "You'll wake Mama. Lagot tao pag nalaman nyang 4 na tayo umuwi. Ang alam lng nya hanggang 2 lang tayo. (We're dead if Mama finds out we came home at 4 a.m. I told her we'd be home by 2.)
As the three groped their way around the garden to the front door, Annie searched her bag for her key to the front door.
"Oh no!" she hissed. "I forgot my key! We'll have to ring the doorbell! Sana si Manang ang magbukas (Let's hope it's Manang who opens it)."
"Go on, ring the bell," she instructed Eliza, who was in front/
Just as Eliza was about to ring the doorbell however, the door opened.
"Ay salamat (Thank goodness)! I'm soooo sleepy. What are you waiting for?" Annie, who was directly behind Eliza nudged her cousin.
When Eliza wouldn't budge, she shoved her harder. Grabbing her cousin's arm, she noticed how cold it was. She peered into her cousin's face, which was half-illuminated by moonlight. What she saw made her blood grow cold.
Eliza stood frozen, all color drained from her face, her expression one of shock and horror. She pointed mutely at the door, which stood ajar. A moment later, she slumped in a dead faint.
When she came to, she realized she was now in the sala of Annie's house, and all the lights were on.
"What happened? Are you okay?" both Annie and Jessica asked, alarmed. Their cousin no longer looked pale. More like grey around the edges. And she looked like she was about to throw up.
Stuttering, she related what happened when the door opened.
"I was about to ring the doorbell... like you said, Annie... when suddenly the door opened in its own. Thinking it was Manang waiting up for us... I stepped up to it. I was about... to greet... whoever opened the door... but when I looked up... when I looked up... IT WAS YOUR FACE I SAW RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! I don't remember much after that."
The three girls looked at each other for a split second before fleeing to the bedroom to hide under the covers.
Annie stopped being a skeptic after that.
The Last Man On Earth
The last man on Earth came home one night. He turned the lights off, got into bed, then remembered he had left the TV on.
He reached for a match, and a match was put into his hand.
You win. I don't know what you win but goddamn it you ******* win. Well done.
I'm not sure if i get this one exactly, did someone give him a match meaning there was somone els eon earth with him? If someone could explain I would appreciate it thanksHere is a story (I'm not sure if true or not)
A guy (i'll just name him Bob) drove his grandmother home one night. He went inside to keep her company for a while but eventually had to leave. Bob went into his car and when he glanced up, he saw a shadow of a man facing him. Remember it was night time so he couldn't make out what the person looked like. Bob was wondering what the man was doing and just kept staring as the man approached the car.
The man eventually made his way to the car and reached out his arm and hand. The man's hands went through the hood of Bob's car and then the man dissapeared! Bob was freaked out so he tried to start his car to leave, but his car wouldn't even turn on. Bob was scared and didn't want to leavehis car so he locked the doors. He called his friend to telll him what happened.
His friend laughed and thought Bob was crazy and didn't pay him any attention. So Bob called his mom and told her what happened then she later came with a tow truck. Bob's mom came with the tow truck and everything went fine. The next day when Bob picked up his car, the mechanic said someone had pulled the wires in his engine! Bob said he would never drive by himself at night again.
When you are admitted to a hospital, they place on your wrist a white wristband with your name on it. But there are other different colored wristbands which symbolize other things. The red wristbands are placed on dead people.
There was one surgeon who worked on night shift in a school hospital. He had just finished an operation and was on his way down to the basement. He entered the elevator and there was just one other person there. He casually chatted with the woman while the elevator descended. When the elevator door opened, another woman was about to enter when the doctor slammed the close button and punched the button to the highest floor. Surprised, the woman reprimanded the doctor for being rude and asked why he did not let the other woman in.
The doctor said, "That was the woman I just operated on. She died while I was doing the operation. Didn't you see the red wristband she was wearing?"
The woman smiled, raised her arm, and said, "Something like this?"
...
During the summer of 1983, in a quiet town near Minneapolis, Minnesota, the charred body of a woman was found inside the kitchen stove of a small farmhouse. A video camera was also found in the kitchen, standing on a tripod and pointing at the oven. No tape was found inside the camera at the time.
Although the scene was originally labeled as a homicide by police, an unmarked VHS tape was later discovered at the bottom of the farm's well (which had apparently dried up earlier that year).
Despite its worn condition, and the fact that it contained no audio, police were still able to view the contents of the tape. It depicted a woman recording herself in front of a video camera (seemingly using the same camera the police found in the kitchen). After positioning the camera to include both her and her kitchen stove in the image, the tape then showed her turning on the oven, opening the door, crawling inside, and then closing the door behind her. Eight minutes into the video, the oven could be seen shaking violently, after which point thick black smoke could be seen emanating from it. For the remaining 45 minutes of video, until the batteries in the camera died, it remained in its stationary position.
To avoid disturbing the local community, police never released any information about the tape, or even the fact that it was found. Police were also not able to determine who put the tape in the well, or why the height and stature of the woman in the video didn't come close to matching the body they'd found in the oven.
...
In rural southern Illinois a toy company began selling "realistic" baby dolls to expectant mothers. But apparently after the mother had her child the toy baby would start crying. Eventually the "rocking motion" advertised to calm it down wouldn't work, and you couldn't get it to stop without shaking it. Eventually when it started crying the parent would have to beat it, and the beatings and thrashings would have to get harder and harder to get it to be quiet. The only thing that seemed to shut the baby doll up permanently was the bash its head against the wall to destroy whatever mechanism triggered the crying. On more than one occasion though, neighbors called the authorities to report child abuse, and when the police arrived they found the bloody remains of infants smeared across the walls and the floor. In most cases the mother couldn't understand why the police were there, she just "got rid of the stupid doll" as she rocked a baby-shaped bundle in her arms.
...
You are home alone, and you hear on the news about the profile of a murderer who is on the loose. You look out the sliding glass doors to your backyard, and you notice a man standing out in the snow. He fits the profile of the murderer exactly, and he is smiling at you. You gulp, picking up the phone to your right and dialing 911. You look back out the glass as you press the phone to your ear, and notice he is much closer to you now. You then drop the phone in shock. There are no footprints in the snow. It's his reflection.
Will post more later.
There was a couple from Texas who was planning a weekend trip across the Mexican border for a shopping spree. At the last minute, their baby-sitter canceled, so they had to bring along their two year old son with them. They had been across the border for an hour when the boy got free and ran around the corner. The mother tried to find him, but he was missing. The mother found a police officer who told her to go to the gate and wait. Not really understanding the instructions, she did as she was told.
About 45 minutes later, a Mexican man approached the border, carrying the boy. The mother ran to him, grateful that he had been found. When the man realized it was the boy's mother, he dropped him and ran. The police were waiting for him. The boy was dead, and in the 45 minutes he was missing, he had been cut open, all of his organs removed, and stuffed with bags of cocaine. The man was going to carry him across the border as if he were asleep.
________________________
In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed.
She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She was, naturally, suspicious, so she went to the police.
When the police paid a visit to the address on the envelope, they made a gruesome discovery, three butchers had been harvesting human flesh and selling it to the starving people.
And what was in the envelope the man gave to the woman? A note, saying simply "This is the last one I am sending you today."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISBeBuVKXL0
There was a couple from Texas who was planning a weekend trip across the Mexican border for a shopping spree. At the last minute, their baby-sitter canceled, so they had to bring along their two year old son with them. They had been across the border for an hour when the boy got free and ran around the corner. The mother tried to find him, but he was missing. The mother found a police officer who told her to go to the gate and wait. Not really understanding the instructions, she did as she was told.
About 45 minutes later, a Mexican man approached the border, carrying the boy. The mother ran to him, grateful that he had been found. When the man realized it was the boy's mother, he dropped him and ran. The police were waiting for him. The boy was dead, and in the 45 minutes he was missing, he had been cut open, all of his organs removed, and stuffed with bags of cocaine. The man was going to carry him across the border as if he were asleep.McainTehNub
...:( thats horrible
That Night In The Mirror I'll tell you right now that my story doesn't have any dramatic climax or any cathartic resolution. Don't bother reading it if that's what you're looking for. My story is of one very specific moment in my life. One which, try as I might, I cannot negate as a trick my exhausted brain played on me, or a momentary lapse of reason and subsequent plunge into childish fears. I think a fear of mirrors must be fairly common, in this day and age. I remember when I was young I saw one of those compilation TV horror shows. The ones where there'd be a different short scary story between commercial breaks. In retrospect it wasn't the scariest thing in the world, and if I saw it again today I would probably invite friends over and we could quash our collective fear by mocking the bad acting or ridiculous storyline. All I remember of it is that in the story a man was being constantly tormented by a disfigured, murderous psychopath, but he only saw him when he looked in the mirror. The whole story was a typical song-and-dance of the man catching his stalker in the mirror behind him, turning to face him and finding nothing there. Maybe the reason I remember it so well is because it was so shortly after I heard my mom die. I say heard because I never saw her body. I was watching TV (a different show) when I heard what sounded like porcelain breaking, followed by a loud thud, coming from the kitchen two rooms away. The sudden noise was oddly unsurprising, but I remember craning my head to see my mom's legs sprawled on the tiled floor. I couldn't see any more of her, the doorframe was in the way. Luckily (I suppose), my father ran in first, calling her name somewhat frantically. As I stood up, but did not advance out of what I imagine was fear, I remember him telling me to stay where I was. The doctors told us a virus had gotten into her heart. I remember my father protesting that he hadn't even heard of that before. Neither had I, but the concept of death itself was fairly new to me, and I remember being filled with an overwhelming sense of existential fear. As if I or anyone I knew could suddenly crumble into a pile of lifeless dust at any moment. I don't think I was a very fearful child, though. Not moreso than most. And even my uneasiness around mirrors didn't exactly trump my other fears of spiders, or being in cramped spaces. I guess it makes sense that mirrors are a source of fear for people. One of the defining signs of self-awareness is whether or not an animal recognizes itself in the mirror. Maybe we still retain some primal belief that what we're seeing really isn't us, but some sinister shadow-self. Not to mention all the scenes in horror movies that use them. A character bends down to splash water in their face, and when they lift their head back up their face is distorted in some gruesome way. I had just gotten home from a party at a nearby frat house. I lived in an old Victorian house that four of my friends from school and I rented. I was the only one home, having left the party early (if you can call 2:00 in the morning early) and my roommates were all still out. I ran upstairs to my room, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to lay in my bed and feel the rest of the world leave me behind. But I didn't. In rare form I decided to take a few more steps down the hall to the old, poorly-design bathroom two of my roommates shared with me. It was lit by a single, fluorescent bulb, casting the black and white tile in a sickly, near-green color. I ran a thin strip of toothpaste on my brush and gave my teeth a once-over before spitting the slightly brown spit and foam down the sink. When I looked up I saw her. Standing behind me in the bathtub with the curtain drawn wide open, my mother's mouth hung down as if screaming, but without any sound. I could tell it was my mother, but she was a grotesque shadow of how I remember her. Her eyes were either completely gone, or simply black in color. The sockets were vacuums within which nothing reflected. Her skin was so pale it was almost blue, and her dark hair looked drenched in water, hugging her scalp tight and falling in front of her shoulders in thin strips. Her mouth wasn't exactly screaming, so much as hanging open. Impossibly open, much further than a person's jaw can extend. She seemed to be wearing a thin white nightgown, drenched, like her hair, and clinging to her emaciated body. Her stick-legs looked like they were going to buckle under her weight, while her arms reached back against the walls. I must have only seen her for seconds before turning, screaming and falling backwards, slamming hard against the tiled floor. The tub was empty. There had been no sound, and now as the echoes of my cry dissipated I could only hear my heavy breathing. I don't know how long I lay on the floor of the bathroom. The fluorescent bulb dully buzzing as I became too frightened to even move. Eventually I heard the downstairs door swing open, as a parade of drunk college boys and their floozies poured in for the night. They found me only the floor, and thought it was hilarious that I was so drunk I had almost passed out in the bathroom. I never saw her again. I never want to see her again, and every day I wish I hadn't. There are myths of people being scared to death, or being haunted by dreams of a single event for their whole lives. I've had dreams too, but they aren't what haunts me to this very day. When someone you love dies, you tend to forget everything bad about them, and eventually your fond memories of them just coalesce into a fondness you share with everyone else that knew them. But that's not how I feel about my mother. I was too young to have endless loving stories about her. Instead all I can remember is her face that night in the mirror. My story doesn't end with me taking my own life, or anything dramatic like that. I have thought about it, though. I tried putting a length of rope across my neck one day and squeezing, just to see what it would feel like. But I would never go through with it. It isn't so much that I want to live. What bothers me the most is that I don't know for sure what happens when we die. Nobody knows. But what I saw that night in the mirror makes me think I do.clayronDude, this really happened to you?:shock:
Dude, this really happened to you?:shock: I think he's just copy-pasting the stories.[QUOTE="clayron"]That Night In The Mirror I'll tell you right now that my story doesn't have any dramatic climax or any cathartic resolution. Don't bother reading it if that's what you're looking for. My story is of one very specific moment in my life. One which, try as I might, I cannot negate as a trick my exhausted brain played on me, or a momentary lapse of reason and subsequent plunge into childish fears. I think a fear of mirrors must be fairly common, in this day and age. I remember when I was young I saw one of those compilation TV horror shows. The ones where there'd be a different short scary story between commercial breaks. In retrospect it wasn't the scariest thing in the world, and if I saw it again today I would probably invite friends over and we could quash our collective fear by mocking the bad acting or ridiculous storyline. All I remember of it is that in the story a man was being constantly tormented by a disfigured, murderous psychopath, but he only saw him when he looked in the mirror. The whole story was a typical song-and-dance of the man catching his stalker in the mirror behind him, turning to face him and finding nothing there. Maybe the reason I remember it so well is because it was so shortly after I heard my mom die. I say heard because I never saw her body. I was watching TV (a different show) when I heard what sounded like porcelain breaking, followed by a loud thud, coming from the kitchen two rooms away. The sudden noise was oddly unsurprising, but I remember craning my head to see my mom's legs sprawled on the tiled floor. I couldn't see any more of her, the doorframe was in the way. Luckily (I suppose), my father ran in first, calling her name somewhat frantically. As I stood up, but did not advance out of what I imagine was fear, I remember him telling me to stay where I was. The doctors told us a virus had gotten into her heart. I remember my father protesting that he hadn't even heard of that before. Neither had I, but the concept of death itself was fairly new to me, and I remember being filled with an overwhelming sense of existential fear. As if I or anyone I knew could suddenly crumble into a pile of lifeless dust at any moment. I don't think I was a very fearful child, though. Not moreso than most. And even my uneasiness around mirrors didn't exactly trump my other fears of spiders, or being in cramped spaces. I guess it makes sense that mirrors are a source of fear for people. One of the defining signs of self-awareness is whether or not an animal recognizes itself in the mirror. Maybe we still retain some primal belief that what we're seeing really isn't us, but some sinister shadow-self. Not to mention all the scenes in horror movies that use them. A character bends down to splash water in their face, and when they lift their head back up their face is distorted in some gruesome way. I had just gotten home from a party at a nearby frat house. I lived in an old Victorian house that four of my friends from school and I rented. I was the only one home, having left the party early (if you can call 2:00 in the morning early) and my roommates were all still out. I ran upstairs to my room, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to lay in my bed and feel the rest of the world leave me behind. But I didn't. In rare form I decided to take a few more steps down the hall to the old, poorly-design bathroom two of my roommates shared with me. It was lit by a single, fluorescent bulb, casting the black and white tile in a sickly, near-green color. I ran a thin strip of toothpaste on my brush and gave my teeth a once-over before spitting the slightly brown spit and foam down the sink. When I looked up I saw her. Standing behind me in the bathtub with the curtain drawn wide open, my mother's mouth hung down as if screaming, but without any sound. I could tell it was my mother, but she was a grotesque shadow of how I remember her. Her eyes were either completely gone, or simply black in color. The sockets were vacuums within which nothing reflected. Her skin was so pale it was almost blue, and her dark hair looked drenched in water, hugging her scalp tight and falling in front of her shoulders in thin strips. Her mouth wasn't exactly screaming, so much as hanging open. Impossibly open, much further than a person's jaw can extend. She seemed to be wearing a thin white nightgown, drenched, like her hair, and clinging to her emaciated body. Her stick-legs looked like they were going to buckle under her weight, while her arms reached back against the walls. I must have only seen her for seconds before turning, screaming and falling backwards, slamming hard against the tiled floor. The tub was empty. There had been no sound, and now as the echoes of my cry dissipated I could only hear my heavy breathing. I don't know how long I lay on the floor of the bathroom. The fluorescent bulb dully buzzing as I became too frightened to even move. Eventually I heard the downstairs door swing open, as a parade of drunk college boys and their floozies poured in for the night. They found me only the floor, and thought it was hilarious that I was so drunk I had almost passed out in the bathroom. I never saw her again. I never want to see her again, and every day I wish I hadn't. There are myths of people being scared to death, or being haunted by dreams of a single event for their whole lives. I've had dreams too, but they aren't what haunts me to this very day. When someone you love dies, you tend to forget everything bad about them, and eventually your fond memories of them just coalesce into a fondness you share with everyone else that knew them. But that's not how I feel about my mother. I was too young to have endless loving stories about her. Instead all I can remember is her face that night in the mirror. My story doesn't end with me taking my own life, or anything dramatic like that. I have thought about it, though. I tried putting a length of rope across my neck one day and squeezing, just to see what it would feel like. But I would never go through with it. It isn't so much that I want to live. What bothers me the most is that I don't know for sure what happens when we die. Nobody knows. But what I saw that night in the mirror makes me think I do.r-teest
[QUOTE="McainTehNub"]
There was a couple from Texas who was planning a weekend trip across the Mexican border for a shopping spree. At the last minute, their baby-sitter canceled, so they had to bring along their two year old son with them. They had been across the border for an hour when the boy got free and ran around the corner. The mother tried to find him, but he was missing. The mother found a police officer who told her to go to the gate and wait. Not really understanding the instructions, she did as she was told.
About 45 minutes later, a Mexican man approached the border, carrying the boy. The mother ran to him, grateful that he had been found. When the man realized it was the boy's mother, he dropped him and ran. The police were waiting for him. The boy was dead, and in the 45 minutes he was missing, he had been cut open, all of his organs removed, and stuffed with bags of cocaine. The man was going to carry him across the border as if he were asleep.legend26
...:( thats horrible
Agree. I am so happy that i don't live near the border.Andrei Chikatilo
In September 1978, Chikatilo moved to Shakhty, a small coal mining town near Rostov-on-Don, where he committed his first documented murder. On December 22, he lured a 9-year-old girl named Yelena Zakotnova to an old house which he had secretly purchased, and attempted to rape her but failed to achieve an erection. When the girl struggled, he choked her to death and stabbed her body, ejaculating in the process of knifing the child. Chikatilo then dumped Zakotnova's body in a nearby river.
Following Zakotnova's murder, Chikatilo was only able to achieve sexual arousal and orgasm through stabbing and slashing women and children to death, and he later stated the urge to relive the experience overwhelmed him.
Chikatilo committed his next murder in September 1981, when he tried to have sex with a 17-year-old boarding school student named Larisa Tkachenko in a forest near the Don river. When Chikatilo failed to achieve an erection, he became furious and battered and strangled her to death. As he had no knife, he mutilated her body with his teeth and a stick.
On June 12, 1982 Chikatilo abducted and killed a 13-year-old girl named Lyubov Biryuk in the village of Donskoi. By December, 1982 he had killed seven times. He established a pattern of approaching children, runaways and young vagrants at bus or railway stations, enticing them to a nearby forest or other secluded area and killing them, usually by stabbing, slashing and eviscerating the victim with a knife, although some victims, in addition to receiving a multitude of knife wounds, were also strangled or battered to death.
Many of the bodies found bore striations of the eye sockets. Pathologists concluded the injuries were caused by a knife, leading investigators to the conclusion the killer had gouged out the eyes of his victims. Chikatilo's adult female victims were often prostitutes or homeless women who could be lured to secluded areas with promises of alcohol or money. Chikatilo would typically attempt intercourse with these victims, but he would usually be unable to get an erection, which would send him into a murderous fury, particularly if the woman mocked his impotence. He would achieve orgasm only when he stabbed the victim to death. His child victims were of both sexes; Chikatilo would lure these victims to secluded areas using a variety of ruses, usually formed in the initial conversation with the victim, such as promising them assistance, company, offering a chance to look at rare stamps, films or coins, with the offer to show a shortcut or with a promise of food or candy. These victims he would usually overpower once they were alone, tie their hands behind their backs with a length of rope, and then proceed to kill them.
In the summer of 1984, Chikatilo was killing at an average rate of once a week.On October 15, Chikatilo was found guilty of 52 of the 53 murders and sentenced to death for each offense.
Upon passing final sentence, Judge Leonid Akhobzyanov made the following speech:
Taking into consideration the monstrous crimes he committed, this court has no alternative but to impose the only sentence that he deserves. I therefore sentence him to death.
On February 14, Chikatilo was taken to a soundproofed room in Novocherkassk prison and executed by a single gunshot behind the right ear.
Chikatilo is just one of the sickest killers I've every heard of, seeing as he could only get hard/off by killing people. There are many more killers I could name, but that's enough for now.
Anyone afraid of clowns?
John Wayne Gacy (Also known as Pogo the Clown)
John Wayne Gacy, Jr. (March 17, 1942 - May 10, 1994) was an American serial killer active between 1972 and 1978. Until he was arrested, Gacy raped and murdered at least 33 young men and boys, mostly teenagers. Although some of his victims' bodies were found in the Des Plaines River, he buried 26 of them in the small crawl space underneath the basement of his home and three more elsewhere on his property. He became known as "Killer Clown" because of the popular block parties he would throw for his friends and neighbors, entertaining children in a clown suit and makeup as "Pogo the Clown".
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