Spare 10 Minutes – Live A Lifetime

December 10, 2012 at 12:00 PM
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As I stood outside the entrance to the underground passages, heavy rain falling upon the cobblestone road, ready to take part in the cities famous ghost tour amongst a group of about 20 to 30 people, I felt a sense of nervousness and excitement in the atmosphere.

I’d arrived in Edinburgh that afternoon, travelling light, just enough clothes to last the night and my camera which had hung from my neck all day long, ready to snap up a piece of this beautiful historic city at any giving moment.

Throughout the day, I had took part in the type of activities you’d expect from a tourist in this city. Starting off with a visit to Edinburgh’s zoo around midday, then off to the famous Edinburgh castle that stood towering above the city on a hilltop at around 4pm. I probably didn’t spend as much time admiring these amazing locations as I should have, but, with only the Sunday to take everything in before returning home for university the following day, I knew time was of the essence.

Finally leaving the castle at 7pm after a spot of lunch at the onsite cafe, I got onto a tour bus that brought the rest of the group to the start of the cities famous ghost tour.

So here we all were, waiting for the tour guide to make an appearance and get the evening under way, when suddenly, there goes my phone ringing.

Glancing down at the screen, I saw ‘mum’ flashing on the screen.

“Hi,” I said picking up the phone, “could you ring me back mum, I’m a little preoccupied right now and don’t have much time.”
“Hey son, I’m just calling to see if you’re okay, you know how worried I get if you don’t call, plus, it’s always nice to spare a few moments for your old mum,” she said.

From birth until the age of 18 when I left home to study photography at university, I was never closer to anyone more than my mum.  So I could understand her concerns as I usually would make a note of contacting her on a Sunday.

“I know mum, but I’m 18 now, you don’t have to concern yourself,” I replied reassuringly.
“ I’m up in Edinburgh at the moment, it’s been quite a busy day so it slipped my mind to get in touch, I’m just about to start the cities famous ghost tour”
“It’s okay son,” she said, “it’s just good hear you’re okay, I’ll let you get on with the tour, I feel you’ll be safe now.”
“Safe now?,” I laughed in confusion, “I’m sure I would have been safe even if you didn’t call.”

“Hello?” I said as the line broke up. “Damn signal,” I muttered looking up from my phone.

“ Hmm, that’s weird… Where’s everyone gone?”  I said to myself looking at the empty entrance of the underground.
“They must have started the tour without me while I was distracted on the phone,” I laughed talking out loud this time. “I’m sure I can catch up to them though,” I said entering the gates in front of me that lead to a flight of descending stone steps.

As I made my way down the 30 or so steps, I saw what looked like a distant gathering of people amongst dim lights and dust.
“That must be them,” I said speeding up my pace into a fast walk.
About 50 yards of fast walking down a narrow stone corridor, I was stopped dead in my tracks.

Stepping out from a room to my left stood the shadow of a 6ft man.
To say I was terrified would be an understatement. My heart jumping into the back of my chest, the breath rushing from my lungs, I looked up at the figure in absolute panic..

“Calm down,” came a voice breaking what seemed like an eternity of terror and silence.
“Wh wh wh wh wh wh… who are you?” I asked stammering in shock.
“The names Edward McGregor,” he replied stepping from the darkness to reveal himself.

A guy of about 40 years with long brown shaggy hair, piercing green eyes and a pale skin complexion, Edward stood before me blocking the way forward.

“You’ve been separated from the rest of them, haven’t you?” He asked.
“I just got held up outside on the phone and lost my concentration, so you could say that,” I replied with a laugh of realising he wasn’t some terrifying monster or ghostly apparition as first thought.
“It happens all too often. You’ve missed the first 10 minutes of the tour,” he said, “but it’s your lucky day.”
“My lucky day?” I asked bemused.
“Yeah, your lucky day,” he said again.
“How though?” I replied even more confused.
“The rain that flooded the graveyard above was just too much for the foundations of these old corridors to hold, and now all but you lay dead beneath the collapse of the ceiling. Give my kind regards to your mum for being of great help,” he said walking off back into the dark room he came from.

Credit To: Creepypasta UK

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He Sees

December 10, 2012 at 12:00 AM
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I jammed my hands into the pockets of my pullover sweater, and hunched my shoulders slightly against the morning chill. The spongy forest floor cushioned and muffled each footfall into near perfect silence. That explains why I didn’t know I was being watched. Followed. Never alone. Unsafe. The towering redwoods used to bring me comfort, sheltering me with their spiny branches. Then there was that day. Just that one day. Changing everything. It was morning, a bit early. Just after dawn.
The ocean fog had rolled in, shrouding everything in a thick mist. Even though I was young, just a teen, I knew my mom would be okay with me walking around this early. I had grown up in these woods after all. I should have noticed that new tree. A tree that hadn’t been there yesterday. A tree that shouldn’t have been there at all. It wasn’t even a tree. But I didn’t take notice because an odd rustling, swishing sound approached me from behind. A light chill ran across my shoulders as I spun frantically to look at the source of the noise.
My cat, Anna, trotted up to me happily through the fog and rubbed her head on my leg. I ran my hands through her long, silvery fur. How could I have been so paranoid? She almost always followed me on my walks. I strolled a bit longer, Anna following me unusually closely. Suddenly, she darted off into the forest, leaving me alone. I didn’t know that was the last time I would have see her alive. How could I have?
“Hm. Must have been a squirrel,” I said slowly. I kept walking. Then I heard it. An unearthly yowl. An animal in pain. A cat. My cat. “Anna!” I shout into the grayness, crashing through the undergrowth towards the sound of my beloved pet. A small clearing opened in front of me. Empty. Lifeless. An old redwood sat at the other side of the clearing. I stepped toward it. Closer, until it was six feet from my face. Bile rose in my throat as I saw a symbol scrawled on the bark. An ‘X’ superimposed on a circle. Written in blood. Fresh blood.
A buzzing sound filled my ears, like that of an insect. I stared at the symbol, not knowing what to think. The buzz increased in frequency until it was a high-pitched ring. It hurt my ears. They felt like they were on the verge of bleeding. Yet, somehow, I still managed to hear a soft laugh behind me; an evil snicker. I turned slowly, and saw him. It. Whatever the Hell it is or was. It was So. Tall. 10 feet maybe. At first I thought it was a logger. I had seen some pretty big loggers in my life. But what logger wears a goddamn business suit in the forest? And I have never seen, or will see, a human that tall.
And what human has that many limbs? Along with two abnormally long, spindly arms, it had…others. Tentacles. Four. Six. Eight. Maybe ten. It was skinny, too. Unnaturally slender. I saw something in its hands. In it’s white hands, something silver and gray…and scarlet. In each hand. Dripping scarlet off of soft fur. The ringing in my ears gave way to his laughter. Filling my ears. Filling my mind. Cramming itself into my soul. Eating away the good. The happy. Leaving darkness, blood, pain.
Several emotions flood through me at once. Rage. Sadness. Pain. Above all, fear. Undiluted fear courses through my veins along with frantic adrenaline, making me feel as though I am freezing and boiling at the same time. An awful cough rattled my bones, forcing me to my hands and knees. My back arched slightly as I inhaled, sounding like death. But that was impossible. How could I be Death? How could I be when he was standing before me?
I glanced up briefly, hoping he would be gone. Hope was crushed. Crushed in the face of fear. He was still there, closer. About 5 feet away from me. I was still on the ground. Then he moved. He leaned towards me. I didn’t look up. He bent down and grabbed me with one of his long, bony tentacles, binding my arms to my sides. He lifted me off of the ground as if I weighed nothing. My eyes fluttered closed. I felt him grab my chin with his hand. Even with his palm on my chin, his long fingers reached into my hairline. His hands were surprisingly warm.
I opened my eyes slowly. I opened my eyes to look upon his face. Our heads were about 3 feet apart. At first everything was fuzzy. I could see shapes. I saw the outline of his head, tilted slightly as if in curiosity. He angled my head another way, and my vision came into focus. I opened my mouth to scream. He had no face. Smooth, white, bald blankness. No eyes to examine me with, though that was what he seemed to be doing. No mouth to laugh with, but I knew he had. I will never forget that laugh.
My scream never made it. Impossibly fast, his hand slid up to my mouth, clamping my jaw shut, displacing some of my hair, which had been tucked behind my ear. He shook his head slowly. I flailed, kicking my legs wildly. In the same unnatural quickness, another sharp, angular tentacle wrapped itself around my ankles, immobilizing me completely. He shook his head more emphatically, squeezing my jaw until it felt like my bones would snap.
Even though I willed myself against the impulse to cry, a tear rolled down my cheek. With unexpected tenderness that contradicted the extreme pressure on my jaw, he reached up with his other hand to brush away the tear and tuck my hair out of my face.
He tilted my head this way and that, and when he seemed satisfied, he shrugged a little and carelessly dropped me on the ground. I landed on my back, the air pushed out of my lungs. I managed to breathe after several seconds. He stood over me, watching, staring down at me. He waited for me to catch my breath. When I did, he kicked me viciously in the ribs, flipping me over onto my stomach. I felt a rib crack, sending searing pain through my chest. That, coupled with the pain in my jaw, forced a small whimper out of me.
He chuckled at my pain. Then I watched him walk away. Every breath hurt. I watched until the fog had almost completely hidden him from view. Then he stopped suddenly, and turned back to look at me again. In an instant, he was right behind me, he grabbed the hood of my sweater and lifted me off of the ground again, the hood practically choking me.
“What do you want from me?” I managed to say. More cold laughter. With abrupt cruelty, all pairs of thin tentacles pierced my back. What did I know of pain? Who was I to say I that I had known agony? He did nothing to mute my screams, which echoed through the forest in a haunting song of misery. The pain was nothing I had experienced, or will experience ever again. I heard someone shout my name, far in the distance. He raised my body over his head, and gave my body a little jolt, driving the knives of agony deeper into my chest. My screams doubled in intensity.
He finally flung me to the ground, and more bones broke. Blood trickled out of my mouth. My sobs rolled through the clearing, and then the darkness closed in.

I remember waking up in the hospital, hearing voices on the other side of the curtain. Voices talking about how I was lucky that the eight stab wounds missed any vital organs, any organs at all really. He just nicked a lung. A few broken ribs, a cracked ulna. I heard them say that the body of a convicted felon was found hanging from a tree they day after I was attacked. Convenient. Convenient for him and clever of him. Everyone would think that the criminal had killed himself in an act of remorse for what he had done to me.
When my parents asked me what happened, ‘What did I remember?’, I lied. I told them I remembered walking through the forest, and the man had run up behind me, and stabbed me. I told them I blacked out almost instantly. The police questioned me a little, but since the case was pretty much closed, they didn’t really bother me after that.
He didn’t kill me. He didn’t kill me on purpose. He didn’t because he’s not done with me. I still see that symbol now and then. Here, there. Everywhere. I still have scars. Nobody knows the truth. Nobody but you now. Now that you know him, he knows you. He will find you. You might not see him right away. But he sees you. You might get lucky. He might kill you from the beginning. Or you might be like me. You might be haunted by that slender man. Then he takes you away. He takes you away eventually. He makes your life a living Hell until you welcome death. Ah-I see he has finally come for me. He stands behind me now. He is behind you, too, somewhere. Waiting. Watching.

Goodbye.  ⊗

Credit To: Shannon

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