Creepy thread
Börjat läsa Uzumaki nu, är på kapitel 9 (The black lighthouse)... hittills är den bara sjuuukt urfreakad.
Citat från shewantsariot
Citat från Pekfinger
Börjat läsa Uzumaki nu, är på kapitel 9 (The black lighthouse)... hittills är den bara sjuuukt urfreakad.
Men visst är den bra? Så speciell och creepy bara.
Den är bra, ja! Kan dock inte avgöra om den är creepy eller bara allmänt... konstig, hahah.
During a period from 1946-1952, in a small town in western Germany, the residents heard what resembled a six-gun salute on the fifteenth of March every year. Some residents made frequent trips into the surrounding hills in hopes of finding the source of the noise, but to no avail. The townsfolk eventually coined the area as "Gunpowder Hill." The children of the town even created a legend about it, stating that soldiers, who in that time were missing but presumed dead, had been killed in an execution-style massacre, and were buried somewhere in the hill. The purpose of the six gun salute was to guide people to the location of the men. On the fifteenth of March every year, the children would gather at the edge of town, eagerly awaiting the six gun shots to be heard.
In late 1951, the hills on the outskirts of the small German town were surveyed for the future construction of a NATO military site. The military base was to consist of a series of deep underground bunkers and weapons supplies in case a Soviet invasion occured. In February of 1952, construction began. Just four weeks later, the crew began digging a massive two-hundred foot deep hole for the future underground storage bunkers. It was during this time that the crew made a morbid discovery. As they neared the end of the digging operation, a human hand was seen sticking out of the bottom of the hole. Upon future examination, twenty-seven bodies were discovered at the bottom of the two-hundred foot deep hole, dressed in Prisoner of War uniforms worn by the allies in Nazi war camps.
A NATO officer ordered for the bodies to be exhumed immediately. As the medical team slowly carried out the bodies, they looked on in puzzlement. The bodies were remarkably well-preserved. Furthermore, the POW uniforms bore a strange insignia which was unlike any the men had seen before; an orange circle with a single black dash in the middle. However, the most unsettling characteristic were the faces of the men who were exhumed. Their eyes were wide open, and their mouths were sealed shut with an unknown adhesive. The bodies were then dispatched to the local morgue for immediate identification and autopsies.
That night, the local mortician began his work. However, he found it difficult to concentrate on his task. The eyes of the first man he was to begin work on seemed to be staring back at the mortician from the autopsy table. He shook his head and just rationalized the sight as the imagining of his over-active mind. The mortician took his scalpel and began his first cut into the body’s chest. Blood poured out of the incision with staggering force. The mortician backed away from the table in shock. The red liquid began running down the table, pooling on the floor below. The eyes of the body began watering, and streaks of tears ran down its face. Soon, the eyes rolled back into the body’s head, and the bleeding ceased. In horror, the mortician began to make his way to the door on the verge of nausea, but not before catching a glance at the twenty-six other bodies lying out on separate tables. Their eyes looked back at the doctor’s with tangible fear. The men were still alive.
I’d had them ever since I was a kid.
I can remember being incredibly self-conscious about them, hiding them in my pockets under books and bags. The kids at school never said anything to my face, but I knew they were laughing behind my back.
I remember asking my parents to take me to the doctor, to get them checked out. The growths on my hands seemed to be the elephant in the room back then, since they’d just say I was fine and change the subject. But I knew better.
I had tried to remove them as a child, but without avail. Scissors, knives, potato peelers; trying to cut or scrape them off was always a lost cause because I couldn’t continue once the pain kicked in.
But today was different. It’s amazing how numb you can get with a couple of tourniquettes and a bottle of Jack Daniels. I was originally planning to use a sharp knife, but figured that trying to slice through the tough flesh of the growths would be too arduous in my drunken state. I opted for the slightly more technological plan B.
I had to hurry though. I was already pretty light-headed and was starting to feel dizzy. My hands and forearms, nearly blue from the lack of circulation, couldn’t wait much longer either. The whirring of the blender helped to put me in a sort of trance–ready to do what
I had wanted to do since I first looked down at my strange deformities.
I shoved my left hand in first. The immediate sensation of sharp blades slicing through flesh was jarring, but I was surprised at how well the alcohol was working–I expected it to hurt more. I could hear the sharp metal churning and cutting, working perfectly as planned. I pressed my hand down harder. All those bad memories, all of the embarrasment–all of those horrible things were now nothing more than a thick red pulp.
Breaking from the feelings of ectsasy, I pulled out before the blades hit knuckle. I smiled, taking a good look at my new hand. As for the growths–well, five down, and five to go.
ASSSÅ K BRY
I thought it would be a good idea. I thought I could lock myself in, that I could keep them out. I even thought I could wait them out; I'd have a fresh water supply, I'd be able to hold out for weeks. It's not like they could break down the door; they're so small...
I rolled up a towel, got it nice and wet in the sink, stuffed it at the bottom of the door. I turned on the fan, just in case they tried to come around through the vents. It also helped to drown out my family's screams...
I must have fallen asleep. I woke up, now hearing nothing but the fan's steady hum. My mouth was dry; I got a drink from the sink. I realized the water still flowed; whatever these bugs were, they didn't get too bad, yet, if things like that still worked.
I realized that I could hear a knocking sound from somewhere. I tried to find it; it seemed to be coming from the shower wall. Maybe someone was in the other room, trying to see if anyone was around. Maybe my sister - when I ran, they didn't have her, yet.
I opened the curtain to knock back, and I saw it. Black, sticky, bulbous.
An egg sac.
And it was cracking open...
You're slowly stirred awake by the distant ringing as the phone beside your bed pulls you out of your dreams. Your thoughts gather themselves and you groan, reaching over to answer.
As soon as you place the phone to your ear, you're greeted by the background noise consisting of twisted screams. There were people in agonizing pain begging for help or death, not that the interference allows you to hear any individual voice clearly enough.
"Get out of the house now!"
The call ends abruptly after what you could have sworn was a voice from closer to you than on the other end. You shift yourself to the side of the bed, sighing while rubbing your eyes. A call this startling and this early in the morning would keep you awake.
Your wife shuffles to the side, apparently also woken by the call. She wraps her arms around you and gives a light kiss on the neck.
"Don't worry about it." Her half-asleep mumble calms you down somewhat.
Just as you're about to place the phone down, it rings again. You fumble slightly and drop it. Instead, you feel your wife's arms tighten around you, preventing you from leaning forward.
It's then you notice a subtle difference between the arms around you and the familiarity of your wife's.
"He's too late to save you anyway."
någon som kan någon sak liknande uzumaki? :3
Citat från earrapingspider
någon som kan någon sak liknande uzumaki? :3
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bara läs allt av junji..
Citat från shewantsariot
Citat från earrapingspider
någon som kan någon sak liknande uzumaki? :3
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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Horror_anime_and_manga
leta där :@@
Ozza: De är ju bara tråkiga, de storys som du pastear :(
Gilla ^
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