Scary/creepy/weird story thread.

threads for when im not going to bed

For some reason I found this hilarious

this thread is so scary, read 2 stories and im not sleeping tonight

bump for some more scary stories

https://www.newschoolers.com/ns/forums/readthread/thread_id/628150/

Loved being apart of making that thread. So funny.

That first story scared me poopless.

Seriously nothing came up? Not a big deal though I think most people like these threads they get really popular in the summer. Also did anyone try that one that was all of the steps? It seems like a Bloody Mary thing when you were twelve you knew nothing would happen but didn't want to try just incase.

Good read if you've got the time.


Back in May of 2010, my best friend, Andy, and I wanted to make a video game that we thought was going to change virtual reality gaming and the horror genre forever. We were both out of the university, me with a degree in computer programming and him with digital art design. Both of us were avid gamers. I think we played a bit of just about everything: racing, JRPG’s, MMO’s, sports, you name it. We wanted to make a game unlike anything you could get coming from overseas. You could call it an ambitious goal for a couple aspiring indie gamers, but both of us were ambitious guys.

Andy was a big fan of horror and was actually the first to come up with the idea. We had heard of the 4-Dimensional theaters that were being introduced in places like Korea and London, where you weren’t just watching a movie, but feeling it and smelling it. If the movie was set in a pine forest, there were triggers that would release the scent of pine to the audience. Likewise, if the characters were standing on the windy deck of a ship, fans, would start blowing to mimic the conditions of the movie in the theater. All of it was to create a more realistic, interactive experience for the viewer and we thought it would be awesome to try to implement that with a 4D game.

Obviously, we didn’t have the manpower to make an entire game by ourselves. We were in a lot of debt because of school and wouldn’t have been able to afford the virtual reality hardware in our wildest dreams. That, and we had no idea how to develop the technology needed to create the 4D gaming experience. Throughout the following summer, we networked like crazy, pitching our ideas to different developers, both indie and big-time. There was interest, but the 4D concept was still very much in development and no one was sure they wanted to invest time and resources in it without the assurance that it was going to hit off.

I won’t bore you with the details of how it happened, but we finally hit a breakthrough in September when an independent company called Systelien contacted us after our attempts to pitch the idea to them. They thought it had potential and were interested in on-boarding us us writers and programmers. The company itself would take the rights for the game, of course, and there would be a team that would make the final decisions during all stages of development. It was still more than we could have ever hoped for.

There was a team of 150 people, a third of which were hardware developers. The “controller” was built into a padded, inclined chair with a minimalist headset that fitted around the players eyes and ears. The joystick and buttons could be swapped on the arms to accommodate if the player was left-handed or right-handed. Really high-tech right? Where the money was really sunk was in the environmental simulators and the sensors and nodes that would be attached to the player’s body to monitor their physical status.

Like I said, the game was meant to be a horror game. We settled on the story of an unnamed character going into a haunted mansion to get rid of evil spirits and getting stalked by a demon. The most cliched plot and setting you could think of, but that was what we were going for. We wanted something that would easily be associated with fear. The idea was that the demon fed off fear and would find you more easily if you were afraid. First, it would scare and drive the character crazy and then it would kill him/her.

The monitors attached to the player analyzed the physical signs that the player was afraid (rapid heartbeat, dilated pupils, harsh breathing, clammy or sweaty skin, etc.) and use that information to determine how aggressively the demon would act. You could think of it as a social experiment; you could see how well a person would stay calm under pressure. Theoretically, a completely calm person could make it through the entire game without much danger, but the scares and the atmosphere wouldn’t let you go through the first level without making you anxious.

The real fun started once the demon came after you. We wanted to keep it subtle. No jump scares. That was cheating the player out of the experience. If you think about it, people with real paranormal experiences never report a demon breaking through a glass window and going for your throat. They report brushes against the skin, whispering in your ears, a loud sound in the distance, even tingling or electrical sensations.

Those were the kinds of things we recreated. We programmed the system to deliver these audio and sensory cues when the player reached a certain level of anxiety. The more scared you were, the more scares you received. At the beginning of the game, you might hear a heavy breathing or footsteps behind you. You might even feel cold spots as you navigated the mansion. As you progressed and became more tense, you might feel a grip on your arm (from a blood-pressure like cushion on the chair that tightened around the muscle) or a hiss directly in your ear along with the feeling of breath. It was elaborate and it took forever to produce, but when they hooked you in, it was amazing.

I had the privilege of being one to test it as it was being produced. They put me in the chair, turned off all the lights, and would play the game through the headset as well as project the images you were seeing onto a wall so that the team would see it too. The graphics were realistic they got the rooms of the mansion down to the last detail.

About a year and a half after the sensors were developed and implemented into the system, we started looking for beta testers. We started advertising in magazines and message boards for people to come in blind and play the game, giving any criticism or reporting any glitches they experienced. The majority of the feedback we received was positive and, after several revisions, we could safety say that we had a successful project.

Of peculiar note were the reports from the beta testers in which they claimed to get the feeling that someone was in the room with them or that they were getting tingling or hot/cold sensations in parts of their bodies where the nodes were not attached. The room where the chair and the interface were located were kept clear, aside from the player, as often as possible. The team was separated from the room by a one-way mirror. We would have been able to see if anyone was in the room apart from the player and in nine out of ten cases when this was reported, there was no one (the other 1/10 were when a technician was coming in to check the interface).

There times when we would disable and re-enable certain audio and sensory simulations to further test which ones gave more stimuli than others. During one play through, the player might have the cold spots and then during the next, those would be disabled. We never told the players which ones were activated and which were not. The strangest cases were when someone playing the game for the first time would report a cue when it was clearly disabled.

In one particular case, a middle-aged woman reported her hair being tugged gently. I can tell you right now, that had not been programmed into the game at that point in time. It was an odd occurrence, but one that could have easily been chocked up to the imagination. Actually, we assumed that most of cases like this were due to the power of suggestion. We just cautioned the rest of the beta testers not to talk about what they went through so that the people coming in could get as authentic an experience as possible.

As tends to happen in these situations, people started spreading rumors. Some of my favorite rumors were the ones that made the Systelien staff out to be cultists who were secretly sacrificing the beta testers to the demon portrayed in the game. I have no idea how that one held up as long as it did, since there were absolutely no reports of injuries on- or off-site and every single one of the the testers came out of the building alive. The internet and gossip does strange things to people, I guess. However, it was rumors like that that were starting to give Systelien a bad reputation. We decided it was time to bring in the media to defeat some of these rumors. We hadn’t wanted to have reporters before for fear that other gaming companies would try to copy our methods, but now seemed like as good a time as any.

We got several offers and wound up taking one from a popular gaming magazine. The reporting team came in and interviewed us about the games and the 4D techniques used. We used the opportunity to show them around the building and debunk the rumors about animal and human sacrifice. It was actually pretty funny; after the interview, the reporting team wanted to try out the game for themselves. They all had good things to say about it and when the article was published, donations and other requests for interviews began streaming in. Andy and I said we should have let the media come in sooner for all the benefits we were getting.

The more we searched Systelien’s message boards, the more we started noticing threads crop up about people who claimed they were experiencing the things in the game after they had left Systelien and gone home. They were going through the same supernatural phenomena in their every day lives as they had in the game. In every claim, they said that they would feel as though someone was getting very, very close to them, looking over their shoulders, and breathing down their necks. I guess that was one thing about the demon in the game that we had neglected to mention. It had no sense of personal space. The reports eventually involved both minor and violent poltergeist activity. And people would be going through this for days afterward. The reports helped to spread the word even more, but it didn’t help the persisting rumors that the testers were being possessed.

The most popular thread where the reports were being archived affectionately called the demon causing these incidences the Systelien Demon or the Systelien Specter. I liked the Systelien Specter better.

Then came the day when a young man, only 17-years-old (we’ll call him John), claimed that he wanted to file a lawsuit against us as he had been scratched during his time playing the game. As I remember it, John had been doing fine up until he had reached the basement of the mansion and then had screamed for us to let him out. The only evidence of the scratches were pictures taken after he had exited the building. The scratches shown on the pictures were deep and red, clearly not something that had been dealt by a human. Maybe by a machine, but an inspection of the chair revealed no sharp parts sticking out. The lawsuit was eventually dropped since there was no way to prove he hadn’t scratched himself prior to coming in. It’s not like we do a full body examination before sitting our testers down into the chair.

It was at this point we decided to stop bringing in random beta testers and test the game ourselves for the last stages of development. I was one of the first to be strapped in. They had added so much stuff to the game play and so many more cues that I barely recognized it from the first time I had played. I remember going down the foyer staircase after exploring a series of darkened hallways lit by old Victorian-era lamps, feeling my palms sweat and the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. The wind outside the mansion had been howling for the last half hour and it sounded like someone was whistling a funeral march.

I paused on the stairs to look at the windows, searching for any weird textures needing to be fixed, when I felt a tingling along my spine on my upper back, like someone was pressing his or her chest against my back. It wasn’t just in the game, I could feel the press in reality. I reached up and felt only the chair. The thing that really set me off, though, was the voice that spoke my name in my ear. It was whispered and very clear, no mistaking it for the wind. I spun the camera around, though I knew there would be nothing to see. The demon had always been invisible. Now I knew why some of our testers had joked about feeling violated while playing.

I just assumed Andy had played a joke on me, but he swore up and down that he didn’t put any coding in the game for the demon to say the player’s name. That would have been my department, not his. He just designed skins. Still, I remained convinced that someone was just having fun with me. There wasn’t even a place to input your name! Someone must have pre-recorded it.

I played through the rest of the area and then headed home to file my report. It was another late night; I had been pulling the late shift for a couple weeks as our deadline was drawing closer. We had been having decent weather until about 2 AM, when the wind picked up and the rain was coming down in buckets. Andy and I had come from the Midwest and were used to bipolar weather. I just worked on and payed it no mind.

Until the power went out, anyway. I grabbed my flashlight, feeling all the anxiety from my time in the game returning. This was a different story, though, and I knew that. My house wasn’t haunted and I had never believed in ghosts for my entire life. My brain said it was ridiculous, but my pounding heart told a different story.

I couldn’t help but feel every draft and hear every creak of the floorboards as I went down to the generator (which, of course, was in the cellar). The wooden steps lead me down into the darkness and I have to admit that, by the time I reached the concrete, I was considering just going back upstairs and burrowing myself into my bed. I forced myself to cross the floor to the generator and turn it on. Immediately, the back-up lights flickered on, casting a red hue over the dusty shelves and rusty tools on the work bench. So, now I got to be in hell, too.

The way back wasn’t nearly as bad as the way down and I reminded myself that everything I had experienced in the game had been just that, in the game. There was nothing to worry about. The demon – the Systelien Specter, or whatever – was an enemy made out of ones and zeroes. It couldn’t do anything to me.

I was halfway up the stairs (about at the same point I had been in the game when I had heard my name, actually) when I distinctly felt someone tightly grab my wrists. As in, squeezing-like-my-wrists-were-being-juiced tight. I screamed and dropped the flashlight, which went off on impact. There was no one there, but I still slapped at where I imagined the hand had come from and clamored up the stairs. I didn’t stop until I was out the front door and in my driveway, getting drenched and not caring. I whipped out my cell phone and punched in Andy’s number.

He said he knew how I felt. During his test play through, he had accidentally backed his character into a fire since he had been so busy keeping an eye on the rest of the room. We had all laughed at the mistake, but he hadn’t mentioned the fact that after we had taken him out of the game, he had felt a burning in his lower calf. Later, when he looked at his leg after getting home, he discovered he had a first-degree burn right where his character had touched the fire. I drove to his house and looked at his leg myself. He had already spread ointment on the area and bandaged it up, but when he pulled it back, I was staring at a red and swollen burn wound.

Out of morbid curiosity, I called the other members of our team who had tested the game that day. It was the same story all around. In the game, Jill had stood in front of a window that had shattered and then cut her hands while picking up the jagged pieces of a ceramic vase had suddenly fallen to the floor. Matthew’s character had been crushed by a falling bookshelf and then, when he had been getting into his car, his door had closed when he wasn’t ready and three fingers had been broken. I looked at my wrists again, where dark, purplish bruises were forming. These couldn’t be coincidences any more. I didn’t know what was going on, but it wasn’t just a game any more.

The next day was a holiday, so everyone at Systelien was off. I invited anyone willing to go back to the game room to try and play through the game one more time. Andy and I had gone through the possibilities. The point of the entire game had been for the character to go into the mansion to exorcise the demon. They could do it by collected special candles and then lighting them in a circle in the attic of the mansion. After some other steps were done, the demons would be forced out of the house and everything would go back to normal. It had been a crazy night and at any other time, I thought we would have been crazy for discussing these things. We thought that maybe, by completing the game and, by extension, the ritual, we could stop whatever the hell was going on. After all, no one, to this day, had ever finished the game from beginning to end.

The game was as complete as it was ever going to be. Andy volunteered to play, for which I was grateful. Maybe it was cowardly, but I didn’t want to be the one to go in. The room was frigidly cold as we attached the nodes. We threw a blanket over Andy to make sure he didn’t freeze. The rest of us (five, in total, not including Matthew, who had gone to the hospital to treat his hand) gathered behind the one-way glass to watch.

It was eerie, watching his progress through the game. I knew all of those corridors so well, having labored over their game files for months. Yet, now, everything looked new, now that I was sure that I knew what the game was capable of. I watched Andy’s heart rate rise and fall on my monitor. His skin-temperature-analyzers went haywire as he rounded every corner. As was supposed to happen, he felt the demon close in when his fear spiked. But this time around, its interactions were low-key, almost subdued. I fought against my suspicion that it was just biding its time. The demon was made of ones and zeroes. Numbers can’t hurt anyone. I thought this even as I rubbed my bruised wrists.

It took four hours for Andy to make it all the way through. He didn’t even take a bathroom break. He just wanted to get this done as much as we did. He crept through the halls, doing his best to keep calm despite the advances of the demon. He collected the six candles needed for the ritual and made his way up to the attic.

Then, things started happening that were definitely not in the programming. The paintings and potted plants in the game began shaking and flying off the walls, clearly aimed for his character. In the safety of the monitoring room, two filing cabinets overturned before sliding across the floor and knocking down two staff members. Wires attached to the wall disconnected and sprayed sparks around the room. Grabbing a fire extinguisher, I prepared to extinguish any flames that cropped up.

Andy had placed the candles on the floor of the attic and was using an old lighter to light them. He was able to get the fourth candle lit before he suddenly bucked in his chair, screaming for us to stop the game. When we rushed in, I saw his hands flailing, as though he was trying to tear off the nodes and sensors glued to his body. Maybe that was part of it, but when I got a closer look, I realized he was fighting with something invisible that was holding him down on the chair. His shirt and face had been slashed and blood dribbled from the wounds. I was afraid I was going to break his arm since I was pulling so hard to get him off the chair. Finally, we got him free and out of the room, slamming the door behind us. Andy’s character had already died and the ‘Game Over’ screen mocked us as we scrambled to call an ambulance.

I didn’t sleep for the rest of the day and the following night as I waited in the hospital. Andy’s wounds were worse than we thought. There was a a massive amount of internal bleeding that we hadn’t known about. The doctors tried to stem the blood loss with transfusions, but their efforts were for nothing. Andy passed away early in the morning.

A week later, I saw a news special about the death and its connection to the game and Systelien. I couldn’t blame whomever had blabbed. The police blamed Andy’s death on the system malfunctioning, as though that could explain the scratches and the internal trauma. Our supervisors didn’t care. They ordered the project to be shut down and I was grateful. I never wanted to see that game again. The only way I was ever going back to the Systelien building was if that room was demolished and the chair dismantled. Though, to be honest, I wouldn’t have been surprised if anyone who tried to take it apart was attacked as well.

I left the company when the announcement was made that the game would be discontinued. People on the forums expressed everything from disappointment to relief. The game was over.

For weeks, I couldn’t stop glancing over my shoulder. I moved away from the town and the memories I had of Andy. My co-workers held a farewell party for me, despite the fact that they probably had the right to blame me for everything. They said that I had helped make a game that would never be forgotten by anyone who played it.

That was all well and good, but I was desperate to forget and spent the rest of my life trying to do so. I was always keeping two eyes on the shadows and jumping at every little creak. There was this little fear that I would hear my name whispered in my ear again, which would mean that whatever I had created had followed me, and I never wanted to think about that possibility.

The only thing I could do was try to sleep and ignore the times when I felt an invisible, clammy hand stroke my face.


Read more at http://www.creepypasta.com/category/beings-entities/#RbVvUDKA3Wuwv5gW.99

Here's another good one that I found that I thought was pretty good.

I sat in my living room, unable to move. A few moments before, my phone had buzzed with a number I didn’t recognize and a text that simply stated “I’m at your front door”. That wasn’t what had me spooked, though. The knocking which had followed it was a far worse omen. The creepy, metronome like rapping still ringing in my head, I hesitated to stand and see who might be waiting for me on the other side of the wooden barrier to my house.
Slowly I rose, but I had barely gotten to my feet when the phone in my pocket buzzed for a second time. “I’m at your back door,” it proclaimed. Then came the knocking again. It lacked any sense of urgency, despite my previous disregard, but instead embodied a methodical sense of determination. Whatever was out there wouldn’t simply give up and go away. Though I already wanted it to very badly.
Maybe this was a prank. I wanted to believe it was possible, but my mind told me otherwise. I didn’t know anyone who would’ve thought a joke like this was “funny”, and besides, I was supposed to be out of town this weekend but had stayed when I came down with the flu. No one knew I was even still at home. Now I sincerely wished I wasn’t.
By now the knocking had stopped, but my heart was still pounding. I stood there in one spot for several minutes, my neck craned to listen. I couldn’t hear anything strange outside. Gathering my wits and courage, I crept over to the window. It was dark, but there was no evidence of anyone. I still couldn’t bring myself to actually go to either door, though.
I almost jumped as the phone began vibrating for a third time. Without even looking at it, I waited for the knocking. It had returned to the front door now. Frantically I cupped my hands over my ears, unwilling to hear the dreadful portent any longer. But it reverberated through my very bones.
“What do you want?” I screamed to no one. I felt silly for having done it, but at least my voice had drowned out the knocking for a few seconds. Taking a deep breath, I walked towards the front hallway, but felt myself turning around before actually reaching it. I began pacing, a million thoughts running through my mind. But it was as if I were in a fog and couldn’t think straight. I had to get out this situation, but there wasn’t any way to do it without opening one of the doors. And the person outside would surely be at one of them.
As if by schedule, my phone buzzed again. This time I read it out loud, “I’m at your back door.” I had hardly breathed the words when the knocking started, confirming the text. My opportunity fleeting, I sprinted for the front door and, without a thought, threw it open.
My porch was empty, thankfully, but the cold outside was staggering. It was unnatural, as if I had stepped into a meat locker. The very shock of it seemed to force the air right out of me, my breath producing a stream of crystalline “smoke” as I stumbled backwards. Attempting to right myself, I realized the collision with this frozen wall had cost me my chance. Clumsily, I kicked at the front door to close it again and fumbled with the lock before dejectedly crawling back into the living room. This door I also barred, if for no other reason than temporary peace of mind.
Now it seemed as if I were trapped. Even if I chose the right door to escape, there appeared to be something preventing me from leaving. Silently I cursed my phone, though of course it wasn’t at fault. In fact, as I sat there thinking, the likelihood it might actually save me became more apparent. If all I had was the phone, then I should use it. Removing it from my pocket, I resolved to call 911 and let the police come sort this out.
I quickly punched in the numbers before placing the receiver against my ear. But nothing happened. Shocked, I held the phone out to investigate but dropped it right away in sheer panic. My hands shaking, I retrieved the phone, only to confirm what I had seen—the battery was dead! But for how long? Surely the texts had not come through while it was this way…
A chill ran down my spine as the seemingly worthless device in my hand once more pulsed to signal an incoming message. Unable to resist, I reluctantly clicked on the text. Though I felt sick as I read the words “I’m at your living room door”, it wasn’t until a moment later that the last of my resolve gave way and I began to weep. That was when the knocking, close and deliberate, started.

Most of these that I find are from http://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep

After reading the first 10 posts on the first page I've come to the conclusion 95% of NS are pussies. Also who goes on a five-day hike?

Here's a good one based on tonight...

True that. Youre locked in your house what do you have to be afraid of. Half these stupid creepy pasta or what ever its called stories have no ending either

youre an idiot

I feel like someone's in my house i just heard a noise like somebody was clearing their throat noise.

It was me sorry, your moms blowing me

I yolo'd this before bed and fuck.

Word this thread ruined a good hourof surfing ns on my iPod in class

this thread needs to continue

This one is a little weird, but mad creepy.

You're gullible.

Dude stop I'm gonna have nightmares

Yeah so we awoke the next morning with my friends head cut off, and a pig stuck in his ass hole, we thought nothing of it so we carried on.

WHY AM I STILL READING THESE FUCK

threads i love this stuff

http://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/t5st6/i_just_need_to_tell_my_story_before_it_is_too_late/
Just read this one. It's better to read it fom the link then posting it on here.

First, I need to apologize to you /r/nosleep. I am so sorry. I’m coming to you in my time of need.

Please help me.

Please read this to the end.

That’s it. That’s all I ask. I don’t know what to do or where to turn. Please just help me. That’s all I ask.

My name is Andrea, and I’m a single mother.

I don’t tell you this like it’s some badge of honor and I’m expecting cookies, milk, and chocolate-covered snowflakes like most of the others in my social circle would. They want your pats on the back and recognition; I just want some of your time.

I see motherhood as a burden. Necessary, yes, but still a burden. My son’s name is Jesse. He’s eleven. That’s fifth grade for the math haters.

Jesse started the fifth grade this year like any other kid would. There was a little bit of trepidation and lots of excitement. He was a happy-go-lucky sort of kid. Full of life and energy.

All that changed after he met Stan on Tuesday.

Stan was a late addition to Jesse’s class; a transfer student from another district. Jesse’s teacher sat Stan next to Jesse.

When I picked Jesse up after school on Tuesday, he told me that Stan was his new best friend. He wasn’t acting like himself though. He was pale and sweaty. I took his temperature, but he wasn't running a fever. I asked about his day and all he would tell me was that Stan was his new best friend.

“Stan’s my new best friend,” Jesse would say.

“I know. I can’t wait to meet him,” I’d say back.

“Mom, Stan is great. You should meet him. He’s my new best friend. The best in the world.”

We must’ve had this same conversation a thousand times that night. When I tucked Jesse in bed, he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. He put his little hand in front of his face and wiggled his index finger, telling me to come closer.

I bent over him and he put his hands to either side of his mouth. You know, the little kid way of telling a secret? Well I turned my head and he whispered something into my ear that chilled me. At the time, I didn’t know why it chilled me, but it did.

He whispered, “You believe me. Right, Mom?”

I sat back up and looked down at him. “Believe you about what, honey?”

“Stan,” he said. “Stan’s my best friend.”

I nodded and took his temperature once more.

Again, he wasn’t running a fever.

I went to bed, but couldn’t really sleep that night.

On Wednesday, when I pulled up to the school to drop Jesse off, he got this really weird look on his face and told me that he didn’t want to go in.

“Are you feeling sick?” I asked.

“No,” he said. He was chewing on his bottom lip like crazy. This was something else I’d never seen him do. “No. I need to go to school.”

He opened the car door and got out.

No goodbye.

No I love you.

Nothing.

He trudged up the front steps of the school with his head down. I let off the brake and turned away to drive to work.

A little boy was standing right in front of my car. Two more seconds and I would’ve run him over. The boy was pale, with a mop of blonde hair that was almost white and bright blue eyes. He knocked on the hood of my car twice, waved once, and walked up the stairs to school.

When I picked Jesse up after school on Wednesday, he looked a lot better. He was a tiny bit paler than normal, but he seemed happy. He told me all about his day. He told me about dinosaurs, and music, and math, and then he told me about recess.

“And then after math period, we had recess. Mom, you’ll never guess what I did today at recess.”

“Tell me,” I said, smiling to myself as I’m driving. I’m thinking tag, football, keep away. All the things I remember the boys doing at recess when I was that age. Something benign, something normal.

“I joined a church!”

I frowned at this. “A church? At... recess?”

Jesse nodded. “The church of Stan.”

I thought that it must be some sort of new make believe game that the kids were playing.

“What’s the church of Stan?” I asked.

“It’s Stan’s church, Mom.” Jesse laughed like I was the silliest person in the world for asking that question.

“What do you guys do though? You know, as members?” I asked.

“Lots of stuff. Today though, we just listened to Stan talk. He was saying some funny words and I got sleepy and dozed off. A bunch of us did.”

I pulled into the driveway at home and we got out.

“Was that it?” I asked. Things sounded weird for sure, but the kids didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong.

“Stan gave us flyers, too.”

Jesse pulled out a crinkled up piece of paper and handed it to me.

It was a piece of manilla paper with three words written in black marker.

Church of Stan.

Again, weird, but nothing wrong. I just thought the boys were playing make believe.

I was wrong.

When I picked Jesse up after school yesterday, I could tell that something was very wrong with my little boy. He looked panicked and scared.

“What’s going on, honey?” I asked, reaching out to feel his forehead.

No fever.

“We played The Soul Game today,” he said. Jesse’s head was on a swivel. He couldn’t sit still. He kept looking all around as we headed home.

“The Soul Game?” I asked.

Jesse just nodded and kept trying to look everywhere at once. Beads of sweat dotted his upper lip.

“What’s The Soul Game?” I asked.

Jesse shook his head no and said nothing.

“Jesse, what’s The Soul Game?” I asked.

“I told him I didn’t want to, but he said he wouldn’t be my friend anymore if I didn’t play.”

“Who wouldn’t be your friend? Where were the teachers?”

Jesse started breathing harder, but still answered.

“It happened in the church,” he said. Then he whispered, “Teachers aren’t allowed in the church.”

“The Church of Stan?” I asked.

Jesse nodded, and a tear slipped down his cheek.

“What’s The Soul Game, Jesse? I’m your mother. You tell me right now and I’ll take care of everything,” I said.

“I can’t tell you, Mom. I can’t. The rules are bad. They’re so bad.”

“What about Stan?” I asked. “Will Stan tell me the rules?”

“NO!” Jesse screamed this and scared me half to death. “DON’T ASK HIM THE RULES. PLEASE DON’T, MOM. PLEASE.”

I pulled into the driveway, scared and confused.

“Promise me, Mom. Promisemepromisemepromisemeplease.”

Jesse was bawling now, terrified. I took him into my arms and rocked him. I hadn’t rocked him like that since he’d been in Kindergarten. He fell asleep in my arms and I carried him inside. I took him straight to his room and got him ready for bed.

He just needs sleep, I kept telling myself. All he needs is sleep.

I put him to bed and ate dinner alone. I checked up on him around nine when I went to bed. He seemed to be sleeping well so I decided to go to sleep.

I woke up to him screaming at the top of his lungs eighteen minutes after midnight last night. I ran to his room, but he wasn’t in his bed. I turned on the light and Jesse came flying out of the closet like something was chasing him. He latched onto my leg and kept screaming.

I tried to calm him down and ask what was wrong at the same time.

He wasn’t making any sense. He kept screaming about The Soul Game.

He was impossible. I kept asking what that was, but he wouldn’t tell me.

I tried to put him back to bed, but he would have none of it.

Finally, I just took him to my room and he slept in my bed. Jesse fell right to sleep. I was lying on my side watching him, stroking his hair, when his eyes popped open and he stared right into mine.

“I’ll tell you the rules after school tomorrow, lady,” he said. Then he closed his eyes.

What was going on with my kid?

In the darkness, I stared at the ceiling for a long time before rolling over to my side and staring into the bathroom.

You know how when you’re edge of sleep, sometimes your leg will kick and jerk you awake? Or you’ll imagine you’re falling or that you’ve just tripped over something and get jerked awake?

That happened to me all last night, only I kept being ripped from sleep by seeing something in the doorway to the bathroom.

Every time my eyes would start to slip shut, I’d see the dark outline of something large in the doorway and jerk awake. Of course nothing would be there, and I would start falling asleep again. The outline would appear in the doorway once more, but it would be closer to me, like it had taken a baby step.

Over and over this happened until morning.

This morning on the way to school, Jesse seemed out of it. Lethargic. I felt the same way. I was even more exhausted. I thought of asking Jesse about what he’d said right before he fell asleep, but couldn’t. I was afraid it would send him into hysterics again so I left it alone.

I drove him to school, and he didn’t say a word the whole time. He was acting like a robot; listless, unemotional.

I got a call, shortly after dropping him off, to come pick him back up. He’d vomited in class.

When I picked him up, he was the same. I asked him several questions, but he only gave me grunts in response. The plan at home was to get him changed out of his dirty clothes and then take him to the doctor.

He didn’t say anything until we pulled into the driveway.

“Can Stan come over today?” He asked. He stared out windshield at the garage door.

“You’re not feeling well, honey, and do you really want him to come over?” I asked. I wanted to meet this kid, but it didn’t sound like Jesse wanted him over. I, however, wanted to get to the bottom of things.

“Yes,” Jesse said.

“Okay,” I said. “Do you have his parent’s number?”

“He already asked his parents, and they said it was okay.”

“We have to wait until he’s out of class, and I’d still like to talk to his parents.”

“Okay.” Jesse got out of the car and we walked into the house.

“You have their number?” I asked as I shut the door.

“No,” he said.

I started to ask him how I was supposed to call them if I didn’t have their number, but someone knocked on the door.

I was still standing right next to it.

I opened the door, and standing on my front step was the pale little boy with the blue eyes and mop of white-blonde hair that I’d almost run over on Wednesday. A little girl stood next to him with the same complexion.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Hi, Driz,” the little boy said. “Is Jesse home?”

The little boy standing on my front porch shouldn't have known that name. It was my nickname from college. Created on a drunken night amongst my girlfriends, shortened from Drizzy.

“No,” I said.

“That’s fine,” the little girl said. “My name is Devin, and you already know my brother’s name.”

“Stan,” I said.

The little girl covered her mouth and giggled.

Stan smiled and shrugged. “It’s really quite simple. Rule one: don’t walk past mirrors in the dark. Rule two: don’t leave any doors open when you go to bed tonight. Ask your son what rule three is and remember, a creak means you’re falling behind, a rustle means you’ve almost lost. When the lights go down, hopefully you won’t see the dark shadow standing in the corner of the room. Hopefully you won't hear it breathing as your eyes shut and you begin to drift off. And if you hear a bang? Well, hopefully you never hear a bang.”

Stan turned and walked away with his sister.

I stared after them both and shook my head. I wouldn’t play their stupid game.

I walked into the house and found Jesse sitting at the kitchen table, crying.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I heard a bang,” he whispered.

My mouth went dry. “When does the game end?” I asked.

“It doesn’t,” he whispered. “It never ends.”

My heart started beating faster. “What’s the third rule, Jesse?”

His face fell and he sucked in a deep breath. “Rule three. Knowing all three rules makes you a player.”

My stomach dropped. “What happens if you lose?”

“When it's dark, you'll hear them coming. They like to let you know when they're getting close.”

“Who?”

“Stan and Devin,” Jesse said. “They'll reach out through the mirrors or open doorways and drag you through.”

“How do you win?” I asked.

“You win if you tell more people the rules to The Soul Game than the person that told you does.”

Like I said /r/nosleep, I am so sorry.

But thanks for helping. Really.

I’m going to enjoy my newfound freedom, and I hope that you enjoy your night.

Give Stan and Devin my best.

bump for more, i fucking love these things. none of them really scare me but i really don't want to go to bed tonight after reading that last one

Fuck that Rake shit. I'm outta here

bump

fuck I clicked the link and I'm glad I was quick enough to close it before the pics loaded...

Hey! Hey you, yea you. fuck you.

Ok the squidward one really scared me the most.

That story was absolutely fucked

threads...this shit freaks me out...but i cant stop!

that one was fucked

Normal porn for normal people

Everybody knows that if you surf the web long enough, you’ll see some sick shit. This is especially true if you intentionally dwell into the dark underbelly of the internet. I’ve seen quite a few things I don’t care to admit to, but one thing that I’ll always remember is a site called “normalpornfornormalpeople.com”.

The first strange thing about the site, was that I didn’t find it by actually looking for it. It was e-mailed to me by someone I didn’t know. The e-mail was as follows:

“Hi there

found this site is very nice thought u might like

normalpornfornormalpeople.com

pass it on, for the good of mankind”

Pretty standard issue chain letter, although the url and the last remark really piqued my curiosity. I was having a very boring day when I got this, so I made sure my anti-virus was working and then I clicked on it.

It was a very average, very generic looking site. It gave the impression that the creators just BARELY gave a shit about making it look professional. The author seemed to have a very tenuous grasp on English, and on the front page was a long, boring, and incoherent rant that I don’t remember or have saved.

The site had a strange tagline (which even today people haven’t figured out the meaning of), which was;

“Normal Porn for Normal People, A Website Dedicated To The Eradication of Abnormal Sexuality”

And from the sound of that, I wasn’t sure whether I was here to watch porn or if I had stumbled onto some kind of eugenics program. But I was here now, and I was very, very curious to see what “Normal People” get their rocks off to. So I scrolled down through the rant and…nothing. The page didn’t seem to link to anywhere else, and I was about to leave when I noticed every word of the rant was it’s own hyperlink.

So I clicked one of them, and was sent to a white page with very long list of links in the form of:

“normalpornfornormalpeople.com/ (random letters)”

So I stopped for a minute and asked myself if I really wanted to waste God knows how much time clicking random links that will likely give me a virus that will rape my computer. I figured I’d just try it for maybe 5 minutes, just to see if anything came up. I clicked one of the links, and was sent to another page. This page apparently had totally different urls than the last one.

I was just about to say “Fuck this” when I clicked on the 3rd link, and a video download came up. It was called “peanut.avi”. It was a 30 minute video of a man, a woman and a dog in a kitchen. The woman would make a peanut butter sandwich, and the man would set it down for the dog to eat. This was all that happened, for 30 minutes. It was obvious that the cameraman had to stop filming and wait until the dog was ready to eat again, and the dog seemed rather sick by the end of it.

I know what you’re thinking: “What the hell does that have to do with porn?” I have no clue. I’ve seen a little over two dozen videos from this site, and the majority had no sexual activity at all.

After watching peanut.avi, I went on a certain image board I frequent to play online show and tell, like I always do with weird shit like this. But someone had already made a thread about it, some guy who had received the same chain letter I did. The image board thread got lots of people with nothing better to do to dig through the site, and that’s how I saw other videos.

Most of those two dozen videos where very uneventful, and consisted of people talking to the cameraman in a room with nothing in it but a desk and a few chairs. I mean literally nothing on the walls, or in terms of furniture. The whole room had a very cold, sterile feel to it.

The conversations where just idle banter about previous jobs or embarrassing childhood moments. I kept expecting some kind of discussion about what the people where filming or what the site was about, but of course, nothing. You would never know these videos had anything to do with porn if you saw it out of context. I will say one thing though, the people who appeared in these videos where quite attractive.

However, the other videos that actually did feature content which I suppose could be called “sexual” is where things got weird.

I’ll give brief descriptions of the stranger videos, if you’re really eaten up with curiosity you can try to hunt them down on a torrent site.

*lickedclean.avi*

A 10 minute video filmed by a hidden camera in which we see a repairman working on a washing machine for the first 2 minutes. When it’s fixed, the repairman talks to the owner briefly, and then leaves. The owner checks to make sure the repairman is gone, and he begins to lick all over the top of the washing machine. This goes on for 7 minutes.

*jimbo.avi*

A 5 minute video of a obese mime performing his act. It was actually pretty funny, particularly one part where he pretends to pull up a chair, then pretends that it breaks because of his weight. In the last 30 seconds of the video, the camera cuts to static briefly and cuts back to the man sobbing quietly, still wearing mime outfit and makeup. Some kind of obscure fetish?

*dianna.avi*

4 minute video in which the camerman talks to a woman in a room different than the “interview room”. This room looks like one you’d find in a normal person’s house. Exactly where they are is never specified, as Dianna only talks about her violin playing. She obviously plays her violin, but she keeps getting distracted by something.

I didn’t notice this until someone on the image board thread pointed it out, but if you look at a mirror in the background, you can see a fat man in a chicken mask masturbating.

*jessica.avi*

Another 4 minute cameraman video. This time he’s outside a house, talking to another young woman. They talk about canoe rides. The camera zooms out to reveal the city streets behind them occasionally.

The strange thing is: No one so far has been able to identify where this street is. Guesses have ranged everywhere from Europe to Australia to The Philippines, but there’s yet to be a match for the street shown in the video.

*tounguetied.avi*

10 minute video. The first 5 minutes consist of an elderly woman making out with a mannequin. The video cuts out like it did in jimbo.avi halfway through, and the scene is now a group of mannequins huddled together in a circle around the camera. The lights have been dimmed, and the elderly woman is nowhere to be seen. From this point on, there is no sound.

*stumps.avi*

5 minute long video where a man with no legs is attempting to breakdance on a DDR mat in what looks like the kitchen from peanut.avi, but much dirtier. There’s a radio playing music unseen in the background, but it stops at the 4 minute mark when the man collapses on the mat in exhaustion.

He breathes heavily and pleads with someone off-screen to let him rest. This off-screen person becomes terrifyingly enraged and yells at him to keep dancing, which he does. You can hear this off-screen person begin to scream as the video ends abruptly.

*privacy.avi*

The woman from dianna.avi is masturbating on a mattress in the “interview room”, while the man from stumps.avi walks around on his hands while wearing some kind of goblin mask.

The door in this room was always closed in other videos, but it’s now open. In this video the only light is in the room, and the hallway is dark. Near the end of the video, you can see an animal quickly run through the hallway.

And finally the last video we uncovered, which was *useless.avi*

In this 18 minute video, a blond woman from one of the previous interview videos is tied down to a mattress in the interview room. She attempts to scream but her mouth is taped over. After 7 minutes, a man in a black suit and mask opens the door, but he does not enter.

He holds the door open for the animal that was running in the hall in the previous video. It’s revealed to be an adult chimpanzee, it’s hair shaved and it’s entire body painted red. It seemed to be starved and abused, with several wounds along it’s shoulders and back.

When the chimp enters the room, the masked man closes the door behind it. The chimpanzee sniffs the air for a moment (it may have been blind), and notices the woman tied to the mattress. It goes into a frenzy, and begins to maul her.

The assault goes on for a grueling 7 minutes, until the woman finally dies. The chimp eats flesh from her corpse for 4 minutes as the video ends.


The thread exploded with activity after this video was uncovered, and people discussed it long into the night. When I came back to the image board the next day I found that the thread was deleted. I tried to start another one, and they banned me. I tried e-mailing the guy who sent me the chain letter with the site’s url, sent him 5 messages and never got a response.

I have tried to discuss this website on various places, and I got banned frequently. The site itself was also deleted about 3 days after useless.avi was uncovered, likely because someone contacted the authorities about it.

The only proof that normalpornfornormalpeople.com ever existed was a few screencaps people took, and videos from the site that people saved and uploaded on torrents. The most popular of which being useless.avi, which found it’s way onto a few gore sites.

Wherever you upload them to, all of the videos from normalpornfornormalpeople.com get deleted after a while.

^ what?

bump

Holy shit, your OP scared the shit out of me, especially because I thought it was real at first.

Will post new story on lunch break. Yikes material.

woo

People who like backpacking trips

Ok. This is a no bullshit, no copypasta story that happened to me in early June this year, 2013.

Robb canyon in Reno, it's considered one of the most haunted places in the west. 3 men and a woman, a single mom (this will come in later) were beheaded and found buried next to a tree down the canyon from a park.
My 2 friends and I decide to go down one Friday night. We had been there before in a group of about 10 and nothing happened. So the three of us get there and usually there's other people on a Friday night there messing around. It's about 11pm and we're the only ones which is sketchy. We park and go down the hill to the park. Nothing happens. We walk around the park kinda sketched out and one of my friends is tweeting. We decide to turn around a head down the canyon. Right as we turn around on the sidewalk there's a crumpled piece of paper that wasn't there before. Like literally 2 feet in front of us as we turn around. We tell my friend to take a picture of it for twitter. Here it is.
As soon as he takes the pic it sounded like about 3 trash cans from all around us make a loud hanging sound. It was right after and they were all about 20 feet from the next. No way it was an accident. We run farther down the canyon and get to a boulder. It gets super cold and quiet. The frogs were going before and just stopped. It was the rock they were murdered at. We kept walking and made it to the dead tree they were buried at. We sat for a while and nothing happened. Then it sounded like a few guys were walking down the trail. We could hear muffled voices but couldn't see them or make out exactly what they were saying. We follow the voices and try to stay close as they go down the canyon. We get back to the rock and everything goes completely silent. No voices, no animals, no wind. Silent. We sit there for about 15 seconds and hear a blood-curtling scream from what sounded like 3 feet behind us. It was like a scream you can never get out of your head. I still hear it. It was the sound of a terrified woman who was going to die. We heard that, turned around and expected someone to be there but it was empty. We ran after that. We ran away from the scream and toward an adjascent road to my truck. We make it to the road and sprint. I am a pretty big guy and I was running as fast as I could. I passed by some bushes on the canyon side of the road and go into the shadows a bit. My friend was behind me and said when I passed by the shadows my foot from the opposite side of the curb looked like it was grabbed when it came up to take another step. It threw me off balance and I fell, landed on my pocket and broke my phone inside it. I got up and kept running until we made it to my car. We left and slept at one of my friends houses. When we got up in the morning we looked at my roadrash on my hands and arms from falling and I looked at the leg that had been "grabbed". There were scratch marks on my lower leg, I dont know what it cane from but it wasnt from the road and it wasnt from something human, or at least alive. Scariest moment of my life and I'm never going back.

tl;dr dont't fuck with ghosts.

^thats crazy. If I'm ever in the area I might have to check out the park.

Really surprised no one has posted this yet. (Unless I missed it)

I was fishing the other day (Lake Champlain) and nothing was really biting so I decided to go on Law Island which is part of the Lake Champlain Land Trust. There used to be a few cabins on it, but people are allowed to camp out there, there is an outhouse deep in the woods and a picnic table by the water. I was the only person pulled into the rocky beach, I needed to piss so I walked part of the path and tinkled. I decided what the hell, I didn't follow the path all the way around the one other time I was there, so I started walking. It got to a part where people obviously haven't ventured through too much. I get on the other side of the island and start hearing what sounds like baby cries / noises that babies make. So I ignore it and assume someone else is on the island. The path comes back down to the water and I don't see anyone. I walk all the way back around and find another path behind where the old cabin used to be. I follow that straight through the island and up to the top where another cabin must have been. I hear these baby cries again. I also look down and realize I have been walking through broken glass the entire time (barefoot) so I am briskly but cautiously getting my way back to the boat. Meanwhile the sun has completely disappeared and has gotten real cloudy. It also didn't help that I thought of this thread while I was as far away (only like 5 minutes) from the boat. Creepy shit.

Turns out there were some kayakers on the other side of the island pulled into the eel grass.... #relieved.

If you are ever near the Palisades, there is an old abandoned mine (NY side) a few bays north of the Palisades. Very cool/creepy.

Anyways, so this happened about a week ago. Hands down the creepiest thing that has ever happened to me.

Part 1

So as many of you know weird shit seems to happen in my house. Lately it has died down pretty much until this event. So I was home alone, my dad and his girlfriend were in NC visiting my aging grandfather, and my brother was out with friends. I had gotten of work, picked up some bud, and was planning on having a relaxing evening by myself. I get home and everything was normal. I blaze, cook up some food, and turn on Trailer Park Boys. As I'm sobering up I decide to go on NS and NSDojo for a little before I call it a night. As I'm on I start getting that ominis feeling, like tension is building in the air. I used to get that feeling, and the feeling of being watched all the time so I easily brushed it off. I decide to turn in so I shut off the lights, turn my fan and sound machine on, and try to sleep. As I'm lying there I swear I hear a muffled, incoherent child's voice mumbling but brush it off as a combination of my sound machine and fan. I'm lying on my stomach, legs slightly apart, for about 10 minutes when I feel it. In all honesty it felt like someone sat at the end of my bed almost between my feet. I feel the covers between my calf's press down into the bed and feel a pressure on the back of my legs and heels. I freeze, probably didn't move for five minutes, eyes shut but being like "what the fucking fuck is happening right now". Finally I look down at the end of my bed and see a slight imprint between where my legs were. Needless to say the rest of that night was spent with the light on, call me a pussy but that shit was fucked.

On a side note, if you check my thread, my dad had a very similar experience a year or so ago.


Part 2

About a week before that I was once again home alone, it was about 8 p.m. and I was in my kitchen. Above me is my dads bathroom and bedroom. All of a sudden I hear clear, defined footsteps walk from what would be my dads bathroom into his bedroom then stop. Now I know nobodies home and I was sure as hell not gonna go check that room because that room is FUCKED. Here's where it gets weird. I'm telling my dad and his girlfriend about this when his girlfriend, Karen, tells me a few days prior she too heard footsteps. She was home alone and downstairs making herself something to eat when she heard footsteps walking in our upstairs hallway going from my dad's room to his office (opposite ends of the house). At first she thought maybe me or my brother was home so she didn't bother investigating (we come and go at random times so sometimes she has no clue when we are home or not). Then apparently I showed up and and it scared the shit out of her because she realized she had been by herself. I remember coming home that day and her telling me I scared her but she never mentioned why. I guess it makes sense now.

Glad I'm out for good in two weeks, about had enough of living there.

@sweetums. I'm touched, someone actually thought of my thread at a creepy moment.

And granite I need your scary stories. Please don't move out.

That was really hard to read. I do 5-10 day solo backpacks sometimes and am always a little bit nervous the first couple of nights getting used to the noises you hear in the woods. Now any time I am out there I will think of this. I hate you