Creepy thread
You try to sleep, but the noises keep you awake. It's like something's scratching on wood. And Growling. You tell yourself it's only the wind, and only the trees outside, but the sound goes on. And on. And on.
Finally, you just can't take it. You stand up, turning the lights on. The sound is coming from your front door. You walk into the living room on unsteady legs, and the growling gets louder, the scraping more pronounced, more... vicious. With shaking hands, you reach for the telephone... and the noises stopped. Like they never were there.
For what feels like hours, you stand there with the phone in your hand, waiting for the sounds to begin again. Thy never do. Finally, heart in your throat, unable to stop yourself, you walk to the door. You open it... on the night air.
Nothing. You study the door. It should be almost clawed to pieces, you could have swore you heard the wood start to give. But it's unmarked. You shake your head. Just your imagination. Then you close the door.
The claw marks are on the inside.
Tycker att pestdoktorer är obehagligt :(
Citat från TheOskar
Tycker att pestdoktorer är obehagligt :(
http://klefelt.blogg.se/images/2011/pest_133230064.jpg
Jag har en egen handgjord lädermask, ska ta äckliga bilder så fort jag får en kåpa så att det ser najs ut.
Edit: Och det du länkade var inte pestdoktorer, det var bara karnevalsmasker. Pestdoktorer såg ut såhär.
A couple months ago my friend's cousin (a single mother) had gotten a new cellphone. After a long day of work, she placed her phone down on the counter and started watching T.V. when her son came to her and asked if he could play with her new phone. She told him to not call anyone or mess with text messages and he agreed to do so.
At around 11:20p.m. when she was getting tired, she decided to tuck her son in and go to bed herself. She proceeded to his room to see that he wasn't there. She went to her room to find him sleeping on her bed with the phone in his hand. Browsing through her phone, she noticed only minor changes such as a new background, banner, etc. and headed towards the pictures section.
She began deleting the pictures he took when she came across the last one.. When she first saw it, she couldn't believe it. It was her son, sleeping on her bed but it was as if the picture was taken by someone else above him. It shows the left half of what seems to be an elderly woman's face.
Viruset: faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan :(
:c
Tillåt mig att reposta mig själv, det var faktiskt flera veckor sedan.
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.
Creepy thread is creepy.
Faaan, kommer inte kunna sova :(
I was there from the time you were born. I stood in the delivery room, staring down at you before you could even open your eyes to see me. Your parents, relatives and doctors couldn’t see me there, in the corner, watching you with cloudy eyes, but I was there from the time you were born.
And I followed you home.
I was with you always, your constant companion. You played with your toys alone while I stared from all angles in nearby mirrors; my matted, clotted hair with oily sweat that hung off my dented forehead like glue. I was always your constant companion, drifting behind your mother’s car on your ride to preschool. You alone in the bathroom, but I was on the other side of the door, wind whistling through the bruised hole in my throat. My arms twisted and hanging in their sockets as I stood hunched on the other side of the shower curtain. I wait and follow you. I follow and drift behind you.
I’m not seen. I’m almost not-there in light. You never saw me that morning as I sat across from you at the breakfast table, a shiny red clot hanging from an empty tooth socket as I gaped grotesquely at you. I wonder sometimes if you know I’m there. I think you are aware, but you’ll never understand just how close I am.
Edit: Hoppsan, det fanns en fortsättning. Jag såg inte det för att den kändes så komplett även utan en. Men jag postar resten då.
I spend hours of your day doing nothing more than breathing in your ear.
Breathing – gagging, really.
I crave to be close to you, to always wrap my crippled arms around your neck. I lie near you ever single night, cloudy eyes staring at your ceiling, underneath your bed, at your sleeping face in the dark.
Yes. You caught me staring occasionally. Your parents came running down to your room one night when you screamed. You were just beginning to talk, so you were only able to cry out “Man! Man in my room!” You thought you’d never forget the sight of me, with my collapsed jaw hanging to my chest, swinging back and forth. I sank back into your closet and your mother was unable to see me though you pointed and pointed and pointed. You thought you’d never forget when they left that same night. You saw the closet door crack so softly and me crawling across the floor to your bed on all fours, shambling in jerking movements as I pushed myself under your bed on disjointed limbs.
You learned a new word for me: boogeyman. Not quite the monster you thought I was. I’m just waiting and following you always, touching your face with my knotted fingers as you sleep.
You’ll see me again soon. Any day now, I’m coming, blunt and brutal. One day you’ll walk across the road and – I believe I’ll plow into you with loud roar and a screech.
You rolling on the pavement, rolling under wheels, bluntforce metal fenders and my fingers touching your face again and again.
As you stare up from the cold pavement with cloudy eyes; your matted, clotted hair hanging in your face and your jaw unhinged and swinging to your chest.
You’ll see me approaching.
No one else will see me. You will stare past them into my eyes and I’ll leer down at you. For the first time in our life, something like a smile will come over my face. You’ll swear you’re looking into a mirror as clotted red bubbles from our mouths.
I’ll lean down, past the doctors and the oogling people and pick you up in my crooked arms.
Our faces will touch. My wings will unfurl. And then you’ll have to follow me.
And I am always with you.
I am your guardian angel.
Kolla inte in i något rum om ni skulle behöva skita eller kissa i natt :(
TheOskar : Ser ju bara ut som något som står på bänken..
A few months ago a friend of mine, who is an up-and-coming nature photographer, decided to spend a day and night alone in the woods outside of our town. She wanted to get photos of the woods and wildlife as naturally as she could for her portfolio. She wasn’t afraid of being alone, as she had camped by herself many times before. She set up a tent in the middle of a small clearing and spent the day taking pictures. She filled up four rolls of film on that trip, but something was strange about them. What she saw in those pictures has stayed with her ever since, and she is still trying to recover from the trauma the have caused her.
Almost every picture was accounted for, save for one picture in each roll of film. These pictures were of her, asleep in her tent in the middle of the night.
Ska sova nu, sov gott och tack för inatt.
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