Det misstaget har jag gjort många gånger.
"Men det är lugnt, det skrämmer inte mig."
le five minutes later
"HOLY SHIT, DET ÄR SLÄCKT I HELA LÄGENHETEN"

gardell Tjej, 32 år

632 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
2 augusti 2011 kl. 19:23

gardell Tjej, 32 år

I was home alone for the week, as my family had gone on vacation while I had to stay and work. It was around 2 AM, and I’d stayed up to watch a scary movie in the dark in my basement. I was intent on really scaring myself and seeing how far into terror I could really go – while still knowing I was safe in my own home.

It was then that I heard pounding footsteps on the first floor. This was a common annoying occurrence when my family was home – every time they passed through the front hallway, past the basement door, I heard their footsteps. This time, fear immediately shot through me at the sound. My reflex was to turn the television off immediately… the basement door was up a flight of steps and around a corner, so whoever it was would not have seen any light.

I heard the basement door handle click and turn as I sat in absolute darkness. I moved slowly so as to be absolutely silent, and crawled behind our large television. As I passed it inch by inch, I noted with panic that its black screen still dimly glowed. I heard footsteps coming down the carpeted but creaky stairs.

I froze in my hiding place, listening. For many long minutes, I heard nothing. Had the intruder seen the television’s afterglow, or had it faded in time? Was he standing in the pitch dark listening for me? I seemed to lie there in total silence for an interminably long time. My panic began to fade, and I began to think more clearly.

Had I really heard an intruder? Could someone possibly be standing there in silence for so long without making any noise? The basement was so exceedingly quiet that the silence itself began to hurt my ears. Could the unknown person really avoid any noise from shuffling or breathing or anything else? If there was an intruder, he was still in the basement, because the creaky stairs were incredibly loud, the door handle clicked, and he wouldn’t know to mask his footsteps on the first floor so that they couldn’t be heard down here…

I began counting in my head trying to pass the time, as drool fell from my mouth onto the carpet – I didn’t dare risk the sound of swallowing. I reached sixty seconds once, twice… thirty times… sixty times… by now my fear had faded and I was more confused than anything. I estimated I’d been crouched in the absolute black for almost two hours, and had still heard nothing. If there was an intruder, none of this made sense… finally, I decided I’d have to make a move. If I did nothing, eventually the sun would come up, and shine in through the small basement windows… and, worse, I began to smell something horrible and cloying.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I began inching my way towards the stairs by way of the walls. If someone was standing there in the dark, I should be able to go around them and then make a break up the stairs… meanwhile, the horrible odor grew stronger. Had something died down here in the night? No living person would smell like that… terrible images of some sort of corpse-monster listening for me in the dark erupted in my thoughts, and I moved as fast as I could without making a sound.

Just as I finally approached the stairs, there was an enormous clatter, as of something falling or collapsing on the floor. It was at that moment I leapt forward and crashed up the stairs, running out through the open basement door and my wide-open front door. Now certain that someone was in the house, I called the police from my cellphone and watched my house from afar.

The police came, checked inside the house, and then grimly came back out to question me. They’d found a body in the house – my elderly neighbor, who seemed to have died of a heart attack. Their belief was that I must have left the front door unlocked, and he must have wandered in my house while dying, looking for help. At first, I felt horrible, thinking that I had sat there in the dark while the old man literally died a few feet away.

Then it occurred to me – what the hell was that loud noise of things falling, that last prompted me to bolt up the stairs and out of the house? I asked the police and they confirmed – the back door of my house had been left open as well, near a single bare footprint in the mud. Somehow, for some reason I’ll never know, there was someone else in that basement with us… silent, waiting, and listening in the dark over the fresh corpse of an old man.

Peppar Kille, 32 år

12 407 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
2 augusti 2011 kl. 19:34

Peppar Kille, 32 år

^ lol fail :D

gardell Tjej, 32 år

632 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
2 augusti 2011 kl. 19:37

gardell Tjej, 32 år

http://www.creepypastaindex.com/creepypasta/return-to-earth

Falaphel Kille, 34 år

11 503 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
2 augusti 2011 kl. 19:40

Falaphel Kille, 34 år

Länken verkar ej fungera

gardell Tjej, 32 år

632 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
2 augusti 2011 kl. 19:42

gardell Tjej, 32 år

då kör jag såhär istället

.

I think this might be the end. For us anyway. Man and all that we’ve accomplished. I’ve had plenty time to think about it since the last time I saw the sun. The last time I’d ever see it. It’s not the end of the world but it is for us.

I guess it started almost a month ago, although it could be longer, there’s only the clocks scattered around the house to tell me how long and half of those are dead now. Anyway I’m straying from the point. It was on the news, a cruise ship sank for no reason. It wasn’t damaged, just pulled straight down. Then the rest of the stories flooded in. Everything in the water was sinking. Oil Rigs disappeared. People on the beach pulled down into the abyss. Nobody seemed able to explain why this was happening. Nothing floated anymore. It was bizarre. This filled the news for a couple days until it just got frightening.

It was during one broadcast that it changed for the worse. It was a report from some beach, an on-location report about this strange phenomenon. They were just recycling the same questions we had all been asking for days. Suddenly panic seemed to grip the face of the reporter, she screamed as the camera quickly tilted down. Her feet were sunk into the sand down to her shin. I remember smirking thinking it was just some overly-sensitive reporter messing up, but then the camera dropped. The remaining 10 or so seconds that followed showed not just the reporter sinking into the sand but all of them. The whole media circus that had descended on the beach to cover the same story. The reporter who was down to her shin a minute ago was now down to her chest. The shot of writhing, screaming, sinking people ended shortly as the camera was engulfed by the sand.

The news stayed on a few more days but there was nothing to say. Some blamed sink-holes for what happened on the beach, while others argued against them from the safety of their downtown studio. The news was a waste of time now. It was much easier to look out the window. It was more or less a ghost town outside. Everyone was inside, afraid to leave their homes. It didn’t seem to make sense. The roads and pavements were being absorbed by grass and dirt. Street signs and traffic lights were being consumed by the plants. Houses too.

Some people tried to run, jumping from roof-top to roof-top, looking for higher ground. Occasionally while flicking through what was left of the TV broadcasts, skyscrapers had become refugee camps. I had made one trip out of the house since this started, across the roof-tops. An attempt to get supplies from a nearby supermarket but that planned seemed to be a waste of time. It was a husk by the time I got there. Looted and pillaged. There was all the evidence I needed to see how bad this whole thing was. It’s easy to be in denial about something like, whatever this was, until it really seems to effect you. When I got back to my house. I noticed something. My car was gone. Well almost, you could still see the top poking out from the overgrowth and loose soil. And not just my car, all of them. Bigger vehicles were still in sight, only partially obscured but they were going down too.

A few days later, my whole bottom floor was subterranean. I had managed to block the windows and door from bursting in from all the dirt and soil, but it was just a cell now. A mausoleum. Not somewhere I wanted to be. I spent most of my time by an upstairs window, staring at the hostile world outside.

My neighbor died yesterday. He fell off his roof and was swallowed by the earth. He’s not the first person to do that either. What made it notable was why he fell. He was trying to stop his dog from getting out. The dog’s fine. Well I assume so. It ran off. They’re not effected. The animals. This is our fate. That nihilistic little discovery was too much for me to bare. This whole thing. A living fuckin’ nightmare. I hit the bottle hard and passed out for the night.

When I woke up my head pounded in the darkness. I flicked the light switches and the fuses but the power was out. I took the flashlight by the fuse box and looked around the house for any supplies. While checking the upstairs I saw it. The last glimpse of natural light I’ll ever see. I had been thinking it was just night, that I had slept all day in an alcohol coma. By the time I could cross the room to the window it was gone. I was underground. I tried to get out. Smashing through plaster and tiles to be greeted with a stream of soil pouring out from where the sky should be.

I don’t know how much longer I’ve got in here. In my house-sized coffin. There’s only so much food and so much air. I’ve got a little bit of light, a couple candles and a book of matches. The flashlight died sometime ago. But this is our fate. Man’s fate. Our return to the earth.