Prominently displayed in the children’s section of the Houston Downtown Public Library, among several others of the same title, My First Cookbook appears as a run-of-the-mill children’s cookbook, complete with large print, simple instructions, colorful, friendly illustrations and a somewhat disproportionate desert section. In fact, the only major deviation from this theme is an article near the end of the book entitled “A Recipe for Success”. This is a complex, macabre ritual involving human sacrifice, self mutilation and sacrilege, as well as more curious and innocuous practices such as walking down a stair case with a prime number of stairs taking them two at a time and then up it taking them three at a time. It’s written in the same cheerfully simple prose as the rest of the book and accompanied by the same helpful, pastel drawings.
You’re at work alone, when you suddenly hear the copy machine start up. You walk out to take a look at what’s going on and see several copies filling the tray. Picking up one of the pieces of paper you discover that it is a copy of a picture depicting you sitting in your office chair, dead, with your eyes torn out and your throat cut. The others are the same picture, but taken from increasingly bizarre angles.
There is no original picture in the copy machine. In fact, the machine has been out of toner for a week.
It was her eyes that first attracted me to her. I didn’t believe in love, but the
first time I gazed into her beautiful green eyes I knew she was the one.
I loved seeing myself reflected in those eyes, looking deep into her soul and
knowing I was a part of it. It’s kinda stupid, but I even wrote poetry about them. I
don’t remember much, but I told her “There’s so much life within your eyes, and so
Oh God, I loved the way the light danced within them. I just couldn’t imagine not
being able to stare dreamily into them.
Now if I could just find a box that was half as beautiful as her eyes, I could stop
carrying them round in my pocket.
When you are admitted to a hospital, they place on your wrist a white wristband with your name on it. But there are other different colored wristbands which symbolizes other things. The red wristbands are placed on dead people.
There was one surgeon who worked on night shift in a school hospital. He had just finished an operation and was on his way down to the basement. He entered the elevator and there was just one other person there. He casually chatted with the woman while the elevator descended. When the elevator door opened another woman was about to enter when the doctor slammed the close button and punched the button to the highest floor. Surprised, the woman reprimanded the doctor for being rude and asked why he did not let the other woman in.
The doctor said “that was the woman i just operated on. She died while I was doing the operation. Didn’t you see the red wristband she was wearing?”
The woman smiled and raised her arm “something like this?”
You wake after a wild night of partying to find that while you were wasted, for some reason
you had a crude smiley face tattooed on your foot. You write it off as a lesson to never drink that much again. The next time you wake, however, you discover the face is now on your ankle, and it’s not as crudely drawn. The day after that, it’s on your lower leg, and it’s starting to look more like a drawing of a real face. As it continues to move up and become more realistic looking, you wonder what happens when it reaches your own face.
Driving home at night, you notice that all the lights in your house/apartment are on. As you park the car, they all turn off at the same time. The house is empty and the doors are locked from the inside.
You check your watch. The big hand is on the 4, the little hand is on the 1. You’ll be late for work.
At work, you find an email in your inbox. The sender is yourself. Puzzled, you open the e-mail you apparently sent to yourself. Inside is the message “the out for watch watch.”
You look at your watch. The little hand is on the 4, the big hand is on the 1. You look back at the screen. The fourth and first words have swapped places. “watch out for the watch.” You look at your watch again.
Your watch is digital.
There is a video on YouTube named Mereana Mordegard Glesgorv. If you search this, you will find nothing. The few times you find something, all you will see is a 20 second video of a man staring intently at you, expressionless, then grinning for the last 2 seconds. The background is undefined. This is only part of the actual video.
The full video lasts 2 minutes, and was removed by YouTube after 153 people who viewed the video gouged out their eyes and mailed them to YouTube’s main office in San Bruno. Said people had also committed suicide in various ways. It is not yet known how they managed to mail their eyes after gouging them out. And the cryptic inscription they carve on their forearms has not yet been deciphered.
YouTube will periodically put up the first 20 seconds of the video to quell suspicions, so that people will not go look for the real thing and upload it. The video itself was only viewed by one YouTube staff member, who started screaming after 45 seconds. This man is under constant sedatives and is apparently unable to recall what he saw. The other people who were in the same room as him while he viewed it and turned off the video for him say that all they could hear was a high pitched drilling sound. None of them dared look at the screen.
The person who uploaded the video was never found, the IP address being non-existant. And the man on the video has never been identified.
A few years ago, a mother and father decided they needed a break, so they wanted to head out for a night on the town. They called their most trusted babysitter. When the babysitter arrived, the two children were already fast asleep in bed. So the babysitter just got to sit around and make sure everything was okay with the children. Later that night, the babysitter got bored and went to watch TV, but she couldn’t watch it downstairs because they did not have cable downstairs (the parents didn’t want children watching too much garbage). So, she called them and asked them if she could watch cable in the parent’s room. Of course, the parents said it was ok, but the babysitter had one final request… she asked if she could cover up the angel statue outside the bedroom window with a blanket or cloth, at the very least close the blinds, because it made her nervous. The phone line was silent for a moment, and the father who was talking to the babysitter at the time said, “Take the children and get out of the house… we will call the police. We do not have an angel statue.”
The police found all three of the house occupants dead within three minutes of the call. No angel staue was ever found.
You come into possession of an old box. Inside are several glass vials filled with dirt, dust and tiny bits of gravel or cement. The vials are labeled with places and dates such as “Port Chicago 7/17/44″, “Halifax 7/6/17″ and “Guernica 7/17/36″. A trip to the library confirms that all are dates of massive loss of life in explosions. A few days later a package arrives with no return address.
Inside is an empty vial labeled with your home town and next week’s date.