Post Your Creepy Stories! (You Don't Sleep You Lose?)

At 12:17 am, on any given night, arises the opportunity to awaken an alternate soul. The most common way of viewing them? Through a mirror.

It is through said medium that the process must take place. Begin at exactly midnight. By no light but that of a single candle, stand before the selected mirror. For ten minutes you must concentrate in silence, focused entirely on your reflection. Do not look away from the eyes; for it will be interpreted as weakness and you will be overcome.

After ten minutes have passed you must draw blood to smear in a line across the eyes of your reflection. Doing so will blind it, and you will watch as your own features begin to warp. Slowly, gradually, they will mutate into a frightening creature--one beyond the comprehension of those who have not experienced it. You must not look away through the entirety of the change.

Soon the writhing movements of the image will cease. By now an echoing, inhuman sound will resound all around you--the creature will begin to ease toward the mirror's glass. You must keep watching as it approaches.

If you do not extinguish the candle at exactly 12:17, the creature will escape.

Be warned, should you succeed; through any polished surface--be it mirror, wood, or window--your reflection will always be watching.

Fortier

When I read your post it was exactly 12.17 am. I'm freaking out. :lol:

So ur with ur honey and yur making out wen the phone rigns. U anser it n the vioce is "wut r u doing wit my daughter?" U tell ur girl n she say "my dad is ded". THEN WHO WAS PHONE?

I'm sorry, I had to.

A friend told me this true story that I thought was pretty creepy, i probably wan't do it much justice, as I can't remember all the details, but here goes:

A group of people were using a wiji board in their house, they did some chant calling on all the demons nearby to enter the room (not sure why you'd wan't to do that but anyway), there was like an eerie noise, feeling of some kind, than all of a sudden the block or whatever it is, moved to the letters d-e-v-i-l. The group got freaked out so they quickly through the wiji board into a cupboard and locked it, to this day the board still rattles in the night.

I thought of this one a few minutes ago, so here goes:

9:50 P.M.

A man named Walter Green walks into a his favorite grill. He has two reasons why he loves the place so much:

1) The food.

2) The 52" flat-screen television on the wall, which he positions himself right in front of anytime he can.

With great joy, he finds the "TV booth" completely empty, and he greets the waiter at the front door in a hurry, trying to ensure that he will lay claim on the seat. He rushes to the booth, almost crashing right into Thomas Smithers. He stops himself abruptly, and says, "Oh, I'm really sorry about that."

Smithers waves him off, saying, "It's okay," while scratching the collar of his black sweater, which is zipped up to the top of his neck. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Walter Green."

"Well hello, I'm Thomas Smithers."

The two instantly strike a friendship, Smithers sitting at the booth behind Green. A waitress hands Green a menu, which makes him wonder when Smithers will get one. This thought is interrupted by the 10:00 news, and Green views the large television.

Our top story tonight is a tragic windwill accident which has claimed the lives of 3 tourists of the city, and...

"Do you mind if I look at your menu?" Smithers asks. "I won't be eating, but I'm just curious."

"Go right ahead." Sure enough, Smithers stares quietly at the steak selection.

...Among the dead is 33-year-old Thomas Smithers, who...

Upon hearing this, Green jerks up and looks to his right, to see that Smithers has removed his head to get a closer look.

There was a man named chris who had a son named james. chris woke up early in the morning only to find out that james had blood all over his face. Chris asked what are you doing. james ran across the room and almost bit chris. By then, chris knew he was a child of the living dead. Chris grabbed his extra nightstick in case of a burgler coming in. SO chris swung the stick only to break jame's neck. yet james was still walking and now starting to throw up liters of blood. the blood was a sickening black that if in your flesh, a horrible death will come upon you, you would rot on the inside out. Chris now had no choice but to escape through his window now nowing that everyone that he knew and loved was now a bloodthirsty zombie.

Luckily chris knew a secret route that he could escape the town. Since all the gates were locked he had to climb a fence. the fence was covered in wire. so chris got caught on one of the edges. now chris had a huge open wound that could easily get infected from the blood. As chris was getting onto the sidewalk, he noticed a demon zombie baby feasting on a mans flesh. the baby turned and yelled a shrieking noise that could pierce your ears. Blood was dripping from the babies mouth and now the baby was crawling closere and closer non stop. chris's instinct made him pick up a fallen log and crush the baby until it could no longer move.

Chris finally found a restaraunt to hide in. everywhere was deserted and now chris decided this will be his new home until help comes. unfortunatly while chris was drinking to wash the depression down, the bartender which was now a zombie came lunging at him. Chris quickly decided to get behind the counter to find any weapons to kill the beast. chris found the hidden shotgun, picked it up, and fired at the head. Right before the zombie was down the dead bartender threw up blood that landed on chris's open wound.

He knew now he was going to die so chris tried to take a knife and slash his own throught. Since the virus is very quick it got to him before he had the time. now his flesh is rotting from the inside out. Moments later he became a zombie. now since the brain wasn't working to its fullest, chris started wandering the halls of the restaraunt for some flesh. He walked inside the door opening in the store's basement where recent bodies were feasted upon by the bartender. So while chris was feasting, the resistence came and shot down all the zombie in the town. But they forgot about the basement of the restaraunt and chris was the last zombie.

there store was abandoned and never orn down, every time a group of teenagers come to party, chris would kill them all. thats why never go in that store.

Mr. Jack Worldly, a hard working and skeptical man, stood outside his vandalized bungalow with a look of shock on his face. The front door had been left open for all in the quiet neighborhood to see; not that he had much of value to begin with. He took to a search for anything that the vandal had taken, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly nothing important missing from his home.

Tired and confused about the whole ordeal, he finally found the energy to fall asleep late that night while scanning the web for any related news stories on his brand new computer. He was awoken by the dull sounds of his alarm clock in the other room, his tired mind quick to come to the conclusion that it'd just been a random act.

It was not the last he'd seen, however, as the same thing happened day after day when he came home from work. Every time he'd leave the house his door would be open, even if he'd only left for an hour to head downtown. Full of questions and lacking any answers, the middle aged man got an idea to capture the vandal that'd been breaking in. He hooked up several surveillance cameras all over his home, pointing first to the door and all through the hallways. He placed most of them inside his guest room where he had his computer, as it was obviously the most expensive things in his house.

Proud of his job after making sure everything was in order, he swiftly slept the night away and was anxious to come home from work the next day. Finding nothing out of the ordinary when he came home and saw the door wide open, he sat at his computer to review the footage he'd taken.

The footage of his front door finally revealed the 'vandal', if it could be called such. The picture was fuzzy, but from such a short distance it was easy to make out just how dark the creature's skin was. It were as though its body were made of black veins and smoke; two sunken red eyes inside a deformed head. It lurched into the home. As he watched, he thought that surely the camera might have been faulty or tampered with thinking "This has to be a prank, there's no way that thing could be real".

The figure walked all around the home. It touched the carpet with its dark hands; it seemed to reach inside every mirror like it were a puddle of water. Jack kept watching and furrowing his brow, seeing the monstrosity blink several times before creeping into the guest room. Jack kept watching, sweat running down his brow, as he watched the creature open the closet and slip inside. Jack could feel his heartbeat slow down, as he heard the closet behind him slide open...

The story of "Drip, Drip, Drip" (the one with the dog and the licking) is one I heard a lot, but it's ever-so much more effective when it was told the way I heard it originally. Where she goes into the bathroom to discover the source of the dripping sound to be the blood of her dead dog, hanging. Her horror turning to sheer trepidation as she hears the soft whine of a dog coming from her bedroom.

Setting it up with the "Humans can lick too!" thing ruins it for me, as it just sounds like some kind of teen horror movie, which are all as scary as cabbage.

Hey i'm enjoying this thread and think I will conjure up one of my own if I can find the time!

There it goes again. Something definitely moved this time. It was very brief, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw something. But wait. All the doors are locked, no pets, and your parents won't get home until 10. So there's no way something moved. It's just your imagination getting the best of you. Sitting alone in your room, the only light emitting from the monitor of your computer, you stare into the darkness for several minutes. Just to be sure. Now you feel silly. What were you thinking? Of course there's nothing there. What, are you 6? Go back to what you were doing.

15 minutes later, as you prepare to go to bed, you're in the bathroom. The shower curtains shift. Wait… no. Stop spooking yourself. It's just an overactive imagination, filling your head with what isn't really there. You gaze into the mirror at yourself. You say it to yourself, slowly and clearly, "Imagination." With a sigh, you turn the lights off and head towards your room.

Laying in bed, you stare at your ceiling, dark and foreboding, only the motion of a small fan disturbing the calmness of the night. A shadow from the light in the hall shifts. No. No, no, no. Stop it. It's your imagination. Just that. Go to sleep, you fool.

But then, just when you're about to drift off to sleep, at the phase no one remembers when they wake, you sense something in the darkness. It's your imagination, leering down at you. With a jagged, macabre smile.

If you ever find yourself in LA's Old China town, head into the square, past the statue of sun Yat-sen, past the hip-ultramod toy store called "Munky King" and look for an import store next to what used to be a wishing fountain. Go into this store ad head all the way straight back, you'll see a selection of weapons, Look for a weapon called a Jiujiebian, a sort of multi-sectioned whip. It MUST have exactly nine segments, no more, no less. This will be called the "chain of night" as of now; there are 48 notches in its handle. It will cost you 29.95.

Then after that, go outside and wait till dark, as the moon rises, take a quarter from your pocket and cast it at the wishing well. as it lands focus on that spot exactly and slowly chant under your breath: "by the circles of Lao-tzu, the void inside of matter, I call forth the spirit that lingers here!" this phrase is best said in the original mandarin, but the spirit will understand a sincere supplicant regardless of language. A girl will step out of the bottom of the fountain, about nine years of age. She will ask you: "Where has my mother gone?" you must respond with: "She has long since gone from earth, but look to the sky, and see her there!"

This spirit is not that of a little girl, but of a bog-hag, cursed to obey this one command regardless of who says it. At this moment, you must attempt to strike the girl with your Newly Acquired Jiujiebian. SHE will then snarl and attempt to fight back. Should you win, all the money ever thrown into the fountain will await you. If you fail, all that the folks in Chinatown know is that a bloody Jiujiebian lies at the door of the import store with a notch in it's handle. To date, there are 48 notches in the handle.

If you go into this one tiny, dingy one-story bar in Paris, and the right bartender is behind the counter that night, you might be able to see a very exclusive gallery show of the lost works of one Henri Beauchamp. But, to get in, you have to prove you're a devotee of the artist to get in.

You'll be asked, in clear and perfect English, "What would like to partake of this glorious night?". Answer absinthe, no matter what. Any other drink, from whiskey to water, will kill you as you sleep.

The next question will regard the type, and you MUST answer one of two things: "The stuff that Man himself could not bear to take," or, "The good stuff. The best stuff." If you ask for any other absinthe, in any other way, you will be plagued by nightmares for 13 days. Each night's dream will be more horrible than the last, until, upon the thirteenth dream, your nightmare will follow you, every moment of your waking and sleeping life. Don't try and cheat the barkeep: the door locked behind you. You have to drink what he gives you, doom or not. That such a powerful man granted you audience should be enough. Besides, I've heard that the dying complimented his drinks in their death throes.

If you make it that far before sealing your fate, the bartender will say, "Be sure you handle this with care; this is the finest I have." From here, you may do one of two things: Say, word for word, "I overestimated my fortitude, and I bid you good eve.". If the barkeep nods, you may leave the door you entered, unharmed and with nothing gained and nothing lost (except the time spent inside).

Or you can go on. You will be given a glass with a seven-sided rim, with each side twisting ever so delicately around the basin until forming a sleek and simple handle. You will also receive a very, very, very special absinthe spoon, in the shape of a key; the holes at the key's top serve as the draining point for the alcohol to pour over the sugar cube. And, of course, an unmarked bottle, stripped long ago of its label, scraps of paper sticking to its sides, covered in the rot of the decades past.

The spoon is completely flat, but has two distinct sides: one with a groove along the shaft of the key, and one without. Turn the shaft down, so its groove will be face down. If you attempt this face up, your absinthe will taste foul, your nose will burn, and your eyes will shrivel in their sockets with unspeakable horrors not of this world. Now, if your spoon is the right way up, begin preparing the absinthe as one would (put the sugar on the spoon, and pour the alcohol over so it gains its color and "special qualities").

Say "cheers" to your friend, the barkeep, and bottoms up. If you don't, the absinthe will burn every innard it touches with the power and pain of sulfuric acid.

If you've done it right, the already dim lights will go off, and darkness will consume the bar. Don't be afraid; the darkness is the cue that you've been approved for the exhibit. Wait out the darkness, and keep silent as the dead, lest the bartender decide to make you so.

Eventually (not too long, two to three minutes), a green floodlight will shine brightly on a door on the far wall of the bar. The bar will be bathed in green, and not just from the floodlight. Little luminescent spheres will gently drift through the room, and the barkeep will no longer be there... nor any other unassuming patron inside before. There's no danger by this point... consider it a safe point. If you didn't finish the absinthe, you don't have to, but you might need the alcohol. Either way, take the spoon and put it in the keyhole of the green-lit portal's doorknob. It will fit perfectly, and reach the end of the keyhole with a resounding click.

Inside is a small elevator, with the most beautiful woman any mortal eyes can imagine, bathed in the green glow in just such an angle that the light refracts beyond her into the shape of wings.

The Green Fairy herself will ask you, "Going up?", and considering all the trouble you went through, it would only make sense to say yes.

Now, you have one more hurdle to clear. She will ask you, as you cross the line from the bar to the compartment, "How would you compare Beauchamp's surrealism to that of, say, Rene Magritte?" For your reply, you must say, "I've come to see more than art tonight."

If you don't, the green floodlight will blow out, the doors will slam shut, and the elevator will plummet through a seemingly infinite blackness before a red light grows brighter as the elevator nears the very depths of Hell. Now, if your elevator begins to go up, the green light will also fade, but in its place will be the cool glow of the moon. But, before you even recognize it, the elevator will reach the top of its... well, let's call it a shaft to not get too intricate.

Now, I'm not as sure about this as the rest, but I've heard that, if the Green Fairy kisses you on the cheek as she leaves the elevator, you will always be blessed with a creative inspiration: a permanent, ever-changing muse. You can't ask her, you can't kiss her; she has to do it of her own volition. If not... well, nothing, but no reason to do it anyway and anger the woman who is responsible for keeping the Beauchamp paintings safe for so many years.

You will enter, from the elevator, a turn-of-the-century parlor, with a large poster of Henri Beauchamp on the left side of the opposite wall; on the right is a door.

Taking the time to read the poster is a fairly good idea, as it explains the very significance of Mr. Beauchamp. You see, he was a struggling surrealist in the 1920s, always making art to try to be free of all premeditation, and managed to do so. You see, after one night in a tiny, dingy one-story bar in Paris, he began to paint... patterns. First it was geometric patterns. Then complete fractals. Then images that would be in the newspaper the next day. Then next week. Then from fifty years ago. 100 in the future, 200 in the past...

Then, on his last night of life, he kidnapped three young girls from their homes at night, murdered them, and painted his finest masterpieces in reds and yellows with the blood and bile of virgins.

He committed suicide immediately after painting exactly 13 of these.

These are behind the door.

The first six, from the left, show, from left to right: the genesis of the universe, the only true visage of God as viewable to the eyes of man, the true image of Jesus Christ, the sprawling clouds of Heaven, every Pope from the first to faces not yet recognizable, and a portrait of Jesus' appearance in his Second Coming.

The other six, on the right, show, from right to left: the cataclysmic of the universe, the only true visage of Satan as viewable to the eyes of man, the true image of Judas, the sprawling flames of Hell, every human-embodied demon from the first to faces not yet recognizable, and a portrait of the Antichrist in his Second Coming.

Now, six and six makes twelve. But what of the thirteenth?

This thirteenth painting is turned around on its wall pin, the image facing the wall. The space around it is roped up at a very wide diameter, and under the flipped image is a sign, in three languages. The top is in the scriptures of the seraphim, the bottom in the runes of the highest demonic orders, and in the middle, in Roman letters.

DO

NOT

TOUCH

Now, like the kiss, I can't say this part with as much certainty, but all the same... I heard that, somehow, as he died, Beauchamp flayed his skin, his organs, his very soul, into some sort of collage. How he took his dead body and created such a horrific masterpiece, I could never say, nor would I ever dare to.

So... if you make it, maybe you can flip the canvas over and tell me sometime? You can tell me about it over a drink.

This could be a great thread, if everyone paricipated. I'll try to get the ball rolling...

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."

Fortier

holy fuk u scared the ass out of me!

I have a story that I wrote for an English project. We had to write a children's book. So this is the story I wrote:

Sounds of Laughter

I have an invisible friend. His name is Billy. Billy makes me do bad things. Especially at school, like that time I hit my friend Evan because he took my pencil. He took it and Billy told me to hit him on the nose. So I did. Then the teacher blamed me.

I told her that Billy made me do it but she didn't believe me because he's invisible. Then I had to go home and think about what I did.

I met Billy last year. He popped up and said "Hi" and "Do you want a new friend?" I was scared at first because mommy told me not to talk to strangers. But now I trust him. I can't see him because he is invisible but that means he can't hurt me.

Besides, we have a lot of fun. Like that time last week when he suggested we eat my sister Dee's birthday cake while my parents were buying presents. My parents also blamed me. They don't like Billy.

Anyway, Billy got me in trouble today. This happens a lot. Billy told me to play with the matches. I said no, but he told me it would be fun. It scared me and I started to cry.

Billy told me to stop crying or I would feel bad. I don't remember what happened next, but I remember that daddy started to yell and the rug was on fire.

"You're out of control!" he yelled. "You're a bad kid and are not going to get away with blaming Billy anymore!" He was angry. "I just don't know what to do with you. Calls from school, eating your sister's cake, and now this! I'm taking you to the doctor to see what's wrong with you."

The next day, Daddy and I went to the doctor. " Hi", he said. "My name is Dr. Matt, how are you?" I was afraid of him. "Are you going to use a stethyscope and find what's wrong?" I asked. "No," he said. "I'm a doctor for your mind."

Sol I went and told him everything that happened. Finally, he told me what was wrong. "You have schizophrenia. It means you hear voices in your head. You'll have to go to a hospital – a special one – to get better." Then he told daddy.

"They're trying to take me away," Billy whispered to me. "You must not let them do that." "No…." I cried. Daddy walked up to me and told me that it is time to go. We went to the car, and Daddy started driving.

"Where are we going?", I asked, "The hospital", he said. We got there. It was called Five Breezes and it looked peaceful. The people who worked there came and asked what was wrong with me. "I hear voice sin my head," I told them.

They looked at each other sternly and told me to follow them. They told me to lie down on the table next to the funny looking tools. So I did. Then they put a mask on my face and I fell asleep.

When I woke up, my head hurt and I had a weird mark on my head and I couldn't feel anything. The doctors said that I could go home, that I was cured. I felt happy – I was cured all right.

Except a few days later, I heard a familiar voice in my head.

So everyone here is afraid of mirrors right? Like when it's dark and you walk past the mirror, making sure not to look at it in case something might be looking back... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIGxKY5y6Mg

So everyone here is afraid of mirrors right? Like when it's dark and you walk past the mirror, making sure not to look at it in case something might be looking back... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIGxKY5y6Mg

Red-XIII

That was scary D:

There is a small island in the Mediterranean Sea that does not appear on any map. It cannot be seen from any other island, nor can any other land be seen from it. On this island is a lighthouse, rotting from age and sea water, which is never lit. There is nothing inside it, save for a spiraling staircase that leads to the top, and an ancient, dusty bookcase.

The case is filled with unmarked books; bound in ancient leather, save for a single space. If you remove a book from the shelf, it will fling itself open in your hands, and the words inscribed in it shall start screaming to the air. You must wrestle the book closed and shove it back on the shelf, or the immortal evil contained within its pages shall break free, and you will be forced to take its place, with pages, ink and binding crafted from your own flesh and blood.

However, if you bring the correct book to the island, and place it in the empty space, the lighthouse will light. As long as it is lit, the world shall enjoy an unending paradise, for all the evil in the world will be contained in the lighthouse. And while it is lit, nothing can go in or out.

The only problem; you will be trapped for eternity with all the evil ever known or conceived, by man or god. And the only way to escape is to douse the light.Red-XIII

Get your most hated enemy to replace the book! (and don't mention the get out clause)

I'll think of a story in a sec.... but for now I have something true that happened to me before.

I had this small bouncing ball when I was about five, and as I was just tossing it around and stuff, I got it stuck behind and under my parents bed. Well, I approached the bed, ready to try and squeeze under there to go get it.

Suddenly, the ball just flew out from under the bed as if THROWN...... I mean from the back of the bed(metal support decoration bars or whatever they are called were part of the bed as well), over the length of the bed and into the hallway behind me.

I just kinda stood there open mouthed with my heart pounding, and I slinked off to my room, quite disturbed.

I'll think of a story in a sec.... but for now I have something true that happened to me before.

I had this small bouncing ball when I was about five, and as I was just tossing it around and stuff, I got it stuck behind and under my parents bed. Well, I approached the bed, ready to try and squeeze under there to go get it.

Suddenly, the ball just flew out from under the bed as if THROWN...... I mean from the back of the bed(metal support decoration bars or whatever they are called were part of the bed as well), over the length of the bed and into the hallway behind me.

I just kinda stood there open mouthed with my heart pounding, and I slinked off to my room, quite disturbed.

verdugoRE4

Sorry that was me, thought you wanted it back. Didn't mean to scare you.

I'll think of a story in a sec.... but for now I have something true that happened to me before.

I had this small bouncing ball when I was about five, and as I was just tossing it around and stuff, I got it stuck behind and under my parents bed. Well, I approached the bed, ready to try and squeeze under there to go get it.

Suddenly, the ball just flew out from under the bed as if THROWN...... I mean from the back of the bed(metal support decoration bars or whatever they are called were part of the bed as well), over the length of the bed and into the hallway behind me.

I just kinda stood there open mouthed with my heart pounding, and I slinked off to my room, quite disturbed.

verdugoRE4

Hmmm reminds me of two separate accounts from two separate friends of mine at totally different locations in different times of their lives.

My first friend, James, said he was over at a friends place when he was young playing with the other kids. He crawled under a bed and as he went to crawl back out, his leg was stuck. He looked back to see if his leg was caught on something, but there was nothing there at all! Eventually his leg was free to move again and he got out.

My other friend, Harry, had this happen some time in the past 4 years or so. He was at his place watching a movie with another friend, appropriately it was The Ring (like the scene where the girl grabs the protagonist's arm!). He said he was sitting on the edge of his bed and got up to move and his leg was stuck. Looked down, nothing there, but he couldn't move it! He started to panic for a second then all of a sudden it was free again. Pretty creepy.

I just love being creeped out!

Horror films, they can't make enough of them for me. My favorites being Creep (I loved the build up on that film), The Decent (Which was inspired by one of the stories posted in this thread) and top of my list - the remake of Dawn of the Dead (screw the original, that fairy ground music ruined the suspense).

I've made up all kinds of stories in the past, but this is one I wish I had. Unfortunately for me, it's not. And so I have to live with it.

I am responsible for locking up our councils head office every night. It's a fairly large building, 3 storeys high and separated into 3 wings: the East, West and the North. I have to make sure every window is closed, lights turned off and that no one else is inside before I set the alarm and lock the door. The alarm can be a fickle thing. Once I tap in the code it gives me a generous 15 seconds to get out the room before I end up setting it off myself. I gotta make sure all preparations are set then immediately make my way to the sliding automatic door, which has to shut with me on the other end before the times up. Failer to do so sets off the alarm, resulting in a 20 second timer in which I must make my way to the keypad and tap in the override code before all hell breaks loose.

The alarm will go off in two situations. Either something is picked up in the motion sensors, or a fire-door is left open. Which ever happens will be shown on the digital screen on the keypad, indicating the location of the sensor that has been triggered, or the number of exits left open.

It was sometime in October when it happened. Things were going on later then normal: The Head Of Legal Sectaries staying until the last minute, that prick in I.T had fell asleep at his keyboard, every window in the benefits office left open. After kicking the last person out the building it was 8:00, 30 minutes past the proper closing time/ Finely I could set the alarm and bloody well go home. I switch off the last of the lights, with only the 'exit' sign, the security monitor and the light of the keypad to illuminate the room I proceeded to type in the code.

'Beep, Beep, Beep' time to run for the door!, but before I've moved 3ft from the keypad I hear the 'Beeeeeeeeeeeep!'. Somethings gone wrong.

With a pissed off sigh I scamper to the pad to tap in the override, after which the display shows me what the problem is. 'Intruder in 2E.payments.' That's the payments office, top floor. My first thoughts was that someone must of came back into the office and slipped past me, but that doesn't explain why they are walking about in the dark. Then the display updates 'Intruder in 2E.Corridor,' the alarm records all the movments for the duration of the beeping until I hit the override, so whatever it was, it had moved. Already I was finding it somewhat unnerving, because now I got to go up and greet this, whoever it is.

Walking into the lobby I switch on the lights then peer up the stairs. Complete silence. This office is home to some of the most creaky floorboards ever crafted, I know if someone is moving around I will of heard them already. So after climbing the steps I find myself on the 2nd floor. The lights are definitely off, and still not a sound. I make my way over to the door which leads to the East Wing corridor, these doors have a pane of glass which lets you see past it without having to open it (Obviously), so I just take a look. Nothing.

I've had enough already. My plan now was to just phone the call out technecian and inform him that we got a fault with the alarm. It may seem cowardly but I did not fancy walking down that corridor, if someone was in there they clearly did not want to be found and I would of been putting myself in for a confrontation. Safety in numbers.

I made my way back downstairs, somewhat in a hurry. Whenever I get that creepy feeling and i'm all lone, I always feel a sense of 'don't look back' and 'if you stop now somethings going to grab you'. I switch off the lights to the lobby and enter the reception, after flipping on all the lights to the room I then pull out my work mobile and phone the techy. Within 3 rings he answers, and I inform him of the problem. He asks me to read out inexactly what is being displayed on the keypad, so doing as he says I walk over to the alarm system. The screen on the keypad scrolls through the motion recordings as I read them out: Intruder in 2E.Payments, Intruder in 2E.Corridor, Intruder in G.Lobby. I think 'what the hell' came to mind as the last one scrolled past. The ground floor Lobby, I didn't read the whole message the first time.

This may not sound scary in writing, but for me, knowing that office, it haunted me until the morning. The motion sensors are set to only trigger on large movements, so not to go off if a poster slips off the wall or something. Alone in a large office, dead silence and the darkness of an October evening and an alarm that's freaking out. The worst thing however, was the security monitor. The bottom left hand display, which normally showed the Lobby, was blacked out.

This thread keeps coming back from the dead.

OMG this thread is a zombie!