The Whisperer

March 13, 2014 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.0/10 (248 votes cast)

I grew up listening to all sorts of scary stories from my parents, and my grandparents, but I never really believed in anything supernatural firmly. This was, though, till one particular night when I was fifteen.

My grandmother lived with us and it had been around 3 months since she passed away. I would often stay up listening to her stories, and had taken to studying in the same room after her passing. I always had a sense of comfort in that room, even though almost everyone I knew found it to be quite creepy. Their view was understandable for me as well; the room had a dusty old closet attached to it, which was still had a lot of antiques and old chests stowed away in it. Apart from that, the room also led to the dark and cramped up attic, which was no better than the closet when it came to being free of spider webs, being generally dark and damp. I was still always quite comfortable in that room though. It opened up to the lounge, and had a window at the back, which looked into our backyard, and I would often just go to the window and stare into the darkness lost in thought.

On that particular night though, I was preparing for my exams. I am a night-owl by nature, my brain worked best in the dark. I had been staying up studying till 3 am yet again, and finally feeling tired I thought it was time to go to sleep. I left the door to the lounge open before I slept, because the light from the kitchen was always on, and I liked sleeping in semi-darkness. I had just done the same and was on my side, facing away from the closet and the lounge door when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the closet door opening. It did not make the usual creaking sound it made while opening, perhaps the sound was drowned under the sound of the fan, but I saw it open slowly and surely nevertheless.

This very sight scared me and I lay completely still, to make sure I was just not imagining it. I was not. The door opened, and a tall, dark shadow floated out of it. I say floated here, because that is exactly what it seemed to do. There were no footsteps, just a mass of darkness in the shape of a cloaked man, slithering towards me. I lay absolutely still, even breathing a little more lightly. I was afraid that it would know that I was awake, afraid that it would do something. I wanted it to go back into the closet, but it didn’t. Instead, it slithered to the side of my bed, where it stood tall right behind me.

I could still see it from the corner of my eye, though now I was every twitching muscle in my body, aware of the depth of my breath, and the soft thump of my heart in my chest. I kept repeating “I must stay absolutely still” in my mind, because I had convinced myself that it would leave me alone if it thought I was asleep. It stood right next to me for too long a while, as if observing me, and then, instead of moving, it bowed down. It bowed down till I could feel the mass of darkness, its hood or face or whatever it was, touching my ear ever so slightly. And then, it started whispering. I could not understand what it was saying, and thinking back it sounded much like a snake’s whispers in my ears. It kept whispering for what felt like hours. I could feel the cool and warmth of its whispers on my ears all that while, as I lay there stone-still and unable to even quiver in fear. I was frozen with terror.

The whispers ended as abruptly as they had begun. It rose back up to its full height, and slithered slowly back to the closet as quietly as it had come. The door opened again soundlessly, and it slipped inside. I wanted to run. I wanted to run out to the lounge and to go to my parents, but I waited. Part of me was afraid of seeing he door open again and it coming back, and if I had moved, it would know I was awake. So I waited, for as long as I could, for as long as my nerves would let me. Finally, when I managed to convince myself that the shade would not be coming back, I crept out of my bed as quietly as I could, and slipped out into the lounge. I went over to my mother’s room and found her sleeping. I sat down by the corner of her bed and touched her feet. She got up.

“Are you okay?” she asked me.

I was. But more importantly that told me that I had not dreamt it all. I was still awake.

For the readers who are wondering what I did after, I should add that I went back to the same room to sleep that night. I had been afraid, but the shade had not harmed me. And it never did.

Based on personal experiences by
Salman Shahid Khan

(This is a part of a collection of real life horror stories and memoirs currently being collected and compiled by Salman Shahid Khan. For more, please visit and follow the writer’s blog)

Credit To – Salman Shahid Khan

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.0/10 (248 votes cast)


March 12, 2014 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 6.4/10 (252 votes cast)

I woke up in a room that was all too familiar.
“I’m having the dream again,” I thought to myself, the same dream I’d been having for weeks before that. Each time I had it it, I was filled with the same sense of terror.

I was in a dome shape room about ten feet across. Everywhere I looked I saw mirrors.
Just saying the word gave me the chills. Anyway, it’s not the mirrors itself that scared me, but what was looking back at me from them did. What I saw terrified me more than anything possible. Despite my resistance, I couldn’t help but have a flashback.
The gun. The coffins lined up side by side.
‘It was that person that caused it!’, I thought. I managed to drag my mind out of the flashback. Looking around the room again, I noticed a mirror to my right. It reflected something different, something happy. It was a green hillside with my mom and dad waiting to greet me. Clinging to that last shred of hope, I walked up to it and touched it. The room dissolved around me like quicksilver.

That’s where my dream would usually end, but this time it continued. I found myself watching someone else, a man in his mid-to-late thirties. He was in an abandoned carnival, and it seemed to be very dark out. It was storming, and rain was pouring in through the broken roof. The carnival was lit up by blinding flashes of lightning which were followed by deafening roars of thunder. He was running through a mirror maze, trying to get away from something. His breath was coming out in short, ragged gasps. He was passing by tons of mirrors. I could only see glimpses of the reflection, but whatever it was, it wasn’t the reflection of the man. He made it to the end of the maze, which took him into a large section of the carnival. He stopped dead in his tracks, a look of absolute horror appearing on his face. From the angle I was at, I couldn’t see what he was seeing. However, I could tell it wasn’t good.
“No-o! Please! I beg of you! Leave me alone! Haven’t you destroyed my life enough already?!?’’, I heard him scream at seemingly nothing. It was followed by a chilling, cold laugh that seemed to come from everywhere. I saw the man tense up. “No! NO! NOOOOOO!”, I heard him yell.

Then, the dream went dark.

I snapped awake, drenched in a freezing cold sweat. I panicked for a moment when I saw my closet mirror, expecting to see the reflection from my dreams, but I settled down when I saw my own terrified face looking back. I laid back down, a thousand questions swimming in my head. I glance outside, and it was pouring.
‘Who was that man? What did he see? What happened to him? Is it the same thing from my previous dreams? Did it actually happen, or was it just another dream?’, I thought to myself. I pondered about these questions for a while, but eventually, sleep overtook me.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP went my alarm clock.
‘Morning already?’, I thought to myself, as I dragged myself out of bed to get ready for yet another day of school. After I changed, I went to the bathroom to clean up. I looked at myself in the mirror. For a moment, the smallest fraction of a second, I saw someone else, the man that caused me so much grief all those years ago.
‘I must be tired. I’m seeing things.’, I thought as I finished cleaning up. After that, I went downstairs to find my aunt reading the gossip column.
“Hey auntie.” I said as I entered the kitchen.
“Hey there! You look tired. Have that dream again?”, she said.
“Yep.”, I reply as I poured myself a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice. “Don’t let those dreams bother you. They are just dreams, after all!”, she consoled.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t dwell on them.”, I said through mouthfuls of cereal. That wasn’t what I was thinking, though. I still had doubts about the previouses nights’ dream. ‘What if…?’, I began to think to myself, but my thoughts were interrupted by my aunt ushering me out the door telling me to get to my stop so I wouldn’t miss my bus.

I walked to my bus stop and made it right on time. I plunked down in my seat, exhausted.
“What’s the matter? Scared by your own reflection again?”, said the school bully that sat in the seat adjacent from me.
“Whatever.”, I muttered. I ignored him the rest of the ride to school.

The rest of my day was normal until I got to my literature class. “Okay, class! Today we’ll be working on non-fiction writing!”, said my teacher as he handed out newspapers for the class to look at and analyze. I leafed through it, looking for something interesting to read when an article caught my eye.

Man found Dead in Abandoned Carnival!

Today, at 4:30 a.m., a man was found dead in an abandoned carnival. “He appears to be murdered. The body was located near a broken mirror, so there might’ve been a struggle, even though it’s impossible to say until the forensics tests come back. “The body is yet to be identified.”, says lead investigator Peter Corris. Eye witness accounts say that John Doe was last seen entering the building at 2:00 a.m. “I was trying to find a decent spot of protection from the storm when I saw him.”, says one homeless witness. “He was running extremely fast and looked downright terrified. Since it was the bad part of town, I knew that trying to help him would probably get me killed, so I watched from a distance.” If you have any info on who this man might be or who might’ve killed him, please contact the police hotline.
After the article was a hotline phone number and a picture of the victim.

When I saw the picture, my heart dropped. It looked just like the man in my dream! My brain was frantic. ‘Was it actually a dream? A coincidence? Did I see what actually happened?’, I thought to myself. That last thought sent chills up my spine. ‘If the murder was real…’, I began rationalizing. My brain protested violently against me thinking that. However, I couldn’t shake that thought. I must’ve looked shaken because my teacher walked over and said,
“What’s the matter? You look panicky.”.
“It’s…..nothing.”, I replied. “Just thinking.”.
He gave me a quizzical look, but he left me alone.

I couldn’t wait until lunch., where I would be able to talk to my friends , crack some jokes, and get this whole thing off my chest. Finally, lunch rolled around.
“Hey, buddy!”, greeted my friends as I sat down for lunch.
“Hey.”, I replied as I took my first bite of pizza.
“Is…is something wrong? You look tense.”, said one of my friends.
“I’m that transparent, huh? Alright, I’ll tell you. Last night I had this dream…” , and I described my dream.
“No way!” they said.
“Yeah, I know, right? It’s been bugging me all day.”, I answered.
“You shouldn’t stress about it. You probably just subconsciously overheard a late night news report or something and your brain just made it into something completely different.”, said my other friend.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m worrying about this way too much.”, I replied. I spent the rest of the period talking and messing around.

The rest of the day went by like a flash. It was so much easier to have an excuse to have that dream. Before I knew it, I was home.
“Hey auntie! I’m home!”, I yelled.
“Hello? Anyone there?”, I asked no one in particular.
Curious of what I might see, I went up the stairs and into my aunt’s bedroom. Empty. I searched the rest of the house. Still empty. Confused, I went back to my aunts bedroom. That time I saw a piece of paper on the bed, which I could’ve sworn wasn’t there before. I walked over and picked it up. On it, (in what I hoped was red ink), was scrawled a note.

I’ve taken the only family you have left. Come to the carnival. Alone. Tonight. You can still save her.

I was sickened. I knew with certainty that my aunt was gone. In despite of myself, my brain yet again went back to that dreadful day when I was four years old…

The trip to the bank. The ragged, crazy man. The loud gunshots. Seeing my parents fall over dead with multiple shots to the chest. Screaming, crying for them to wake up.

And the sadness. The deep, overwhelming sadness. The sadness that landed on me like a weight and made me collapse on the bed and cry. Cry until there was nothing left to cry. And as I lie there shuddering, I knew with certainty what I must do.

It was midnight when I finally arrived at the carnival. I was numb with shock.
‘This is actually happening! Everything I saw in my dreams was real! Why am I going to this carnival? Why not call the police?’, I thought to myself. But I already knew the answer to that, deep down. To call the police would assure my aunt’s death. I walked up to one of the carnival windows, ripped off the loose boards, and jumped through.

I instantly knew where to go. The hall was filled with smell of decay and it was very dark, but I could still see it. Across from me was a dusty and cracked mirror, and in the mirror was him. The man who murdered my parents! I noticed every hideous detail of him. Yellow, short and stringy hair, which resembled mouldy hay. Dark, piercing eyes, which looked like those of a snake. closing in for the kill. Thin lips, which appeared to be cold and dead. A body that looked like it was made with sticks. With a cruel smile on his face, he beckoned me forward with a talon like finger. Then, he vanished. I hesitated for a moment, then walked up to the mirror. I touched it and it rippled. Not knowing what else to do, I stepped in.

First, there was blackness. Then, falling. Falling for what seemed like an eternity. With a feeling like being punched in the gut, I found myself in a room. After the pain cleared away and I had caught my breath, I looked up. At first, I was blinded by a glare. Then, I gasped, for I had realized I was in the same room as my dream. Before I could process it all, I heard a dark, chilling laughter.
“Who-who are you?”, I asked, frightened.
Then I saw it. Just like the dream, I was completely surrounded by mirrors with my parents murderer reflected on them. However, this time he was speaking, in a voice that sounded like grinding metal.
I am your darkest fear. I am your deepest hatred. I am everything you fear and despise.”, it said.
“It can’t be you! You were put in prison for two life terms!”, I yelled at the thing in the mirrors.
I am not your parents’ killer.” Then it clicked. Everyone sees something different. They see something, or someone, they hate. For me, it was my parents’ killer.
“Where’s my aunt?”, I screamed.
Foolish person. That was simply a ruse. I simply trapped you here so you could meet your doom, forever to be tormented with your past, again and again…”, it replied tauntingly.
“No! You said I could get her back! You said!!!!’ I yelled.
Goodbye, petty human. Goodbye.”, it said as it started draining the life force out of me, causing the flashback to loop over and over again. “NOOOOO!”, I cried as I felt the final drops of life leaving my body.

The police found me unconscious and barely alive five hours later. I woke up in a hospital with a doctor standing over me.
“Where am I?”, I asked, sitting up. I had a ponding headache. I had the slightest feeling I had witnessed something, something horrific.
“You’re in the hospital. The police found you barely alive in the abandoned carnival.”, the doctor replied soothingly. It was then when It all came rushing back to me.
“How did they find me? Where’s my aunt?”, I asked, panicking.
To this, the doctor answered, “For your first question, there were reports of yelling and screaming coming from that general area. For your second question, we… well, we found her body about ten feet away from yours. We couldn’t save her. I’m sorry.”

I laid back down, emotionless. It was as if the ability to care was sucked out of me. I didn’t know how I lived, but I didn’t care. All that mattered is that my whole family was dead. I was alone. The next couple of weeks went by like a flash. They performed some tests and deemed me physically and mentally fit to return to society. People have dismissed the things I saw as hallucinations. But I know they’re wrong. Because whenever I look in a mirror, I can still sense it, laughing at me, watching me…

Credit To – mirrormirror/craphunter

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 6.4/10 (252 votes cast)

The Crying Room

March 11, 2014 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 8.6/10 (596 votes cast)

The end of the hall finally arrives, and on Todd’s left a door marked 129. The keys jangle as he spins them idly on his finger like a gunslinger just after the kill; then he notices the grimy film coating his fingers from touching the key ring. One more thing nobody bothers cleaning.

Todd slides the key into the door handle. The lock snaps back like cracking vertebrae, and behind it is a sound like a gasp or sob inside the room.

Todd hesitates, listening. The entire building is silent as if it were abandoned. He pushes the door open and flicks on the light, maybe a little hastier than he’d admit.

Standard room. Small table by the window. Wooden vanity with a cracked mirror. Small entertainment center with television set and videogame console. Queen size bed with green comforter (read as, mite nest), which Todd promptly tears off the mattress and tosses in the corner. Bathroom so claustrophobic the door almost touches the toilet bowl when it opens. The one thing giving it personality is the presence of the missing author’s things — mostly textbooks and notebooks — which haven’t been moved or claimed yet. The bedside clock reads 9:31 P.M.

The room is quiet.

Todd closes the door with his foot, tosses the key on the vanity. He pulls a packet of bleach wipes from his back pocket and begins wiping down the doorknobs, the TV remote, and the faucet handles. He takes twenty minutes to wipe down the toilet’s seat and lever.


Todd Kline maintains the most abysmal rooms at the Nimbus Hotel. He used to clean the cadaver room at the university, so the eerie and the disgusting have little effect on him.

He’s lost track of how many years he’s been a room attendant there, but it’s been long enough to know the hotel should be shut down and the building condemned. The shit he’s seen would turn tourists off of hotels forever. The beds are a vast culture of germs and dust mites: attendants don’t wash the comforters between tenants unless they’re visibly stained on both sides. The bathrooms have such thick layers of fecal particles that tenants ought to be showering with their shoes on. And God knows what’s crawling around in those “clean” drinking glasses.

That’s all standard fare for a veteran hotel worker, though. It’s the special, gruesome little touches that make Nimbus stand out from the other germ bordellos.

Last year he cleaned a handsome spread of gooey feces out of the bathtub in 222. Gladys, Dave, and Bernie all refused to touch that one. They wouldn’t touch the crusty clumps of God-oh-God-please-don’t-be-semen in 114’s comforter, either — stone solid like petrified gum. It was a miracle Todd managed to scrub it all out.

The same year as the tub-shitter and the bed-gum, a lady got scabies from sleeping in room 313. Gladys checked the bedspread and found it swollen full of mites, fleas, and ticks. Todd had to ball it up, stuff it in a garbage bag, take it to a stretch of desert highway and burn it. The lady got reimbursed for her stay. Todd got seven or eight fleas.

All of that still doesn’t top the crown jewel from two years ago, when they got a complaint about a sweet and sour stink in Room 106, and found the source — stuffed between the mattress and the bed frame — was a dead hooker. Todd was the only one who didn’t puke when the body was found, so Todd got to sanitize the room after the police hauled it off.

Somehow the Nimbus Hotel is still in business, boasting that “A stay in a Nimbus Hotel is like sleeping on a cloud!”

A cloud of shit-caked fleas that feed on dead hookers.

All Todd’s jobs at the Nimbus Hotel are dirty jobs. When the other attendants refuse to clean the filthiest of filth from the bedsheets, bathtubs, or TV remotes, Todd has to drop whatever he’s doing and go take care of it. He’s the only one who’s ever had the guts or the know-how (and you can bet he won’t let anyone forget it). Nothing scares or even discourages him, however weird or gross.

That’s probably why Manager Ed asked him to spend the night in the Crying Room.


Its proper name is Room 129. It’s had eleven tenants in the last two months and not one of them stayed the entire night. Some stayed for less than an hour. They usually packed their bags and fled without giving an explanation or asking for their money back (a few had even abandoned their luggage). Four of the eleven just vanished. Todd and the others presumed those tenants had left in the night.

Only one asked for a refund: Jervis Liddel, a pasty, balding lawyer with a bulbous nose and huge grandma glasses who had haughtily announced he was staying for a week. He’d barely been settled in for an hour when he came back to the lobby whiter than ever, his hands trembling and his teeth chattering as if he were standing in a snowy wood without a jacket. He took his money and launched through the doors like a missile.

Todd was chatting with the pretty new clerk, Melissa, when the Crying Room’s next tenant checked in: a middle-aged schoolteacher lady named Fran Carlyle. She came into the lobby at ten to five, made pleasant conversation with them about the book fair up the street that she’d come to help with, asked if there were any good restaurants about, then took her key and went to her room.

Melissa got the call on the lobby phone around nine. The voice on the other end was hoarse and just barely above a whisper.

“Can you come down to Room 129 please?” it said.

“Uh, is this Miss Carlyle?” Melissa said.

The voice seemed unsure. “Yes.”

“Miss Carlyle, is everything okay?”

She was quiet for a while, then said, “I…I think someone is in my room.”

Melissa didn’t waste any time calling the police. But they didn’t find anyone in there except the teacher, and she seemed a mix of frustrated, embarrassed, and terrified. She explained that she’d been reading in bed and heard a voice — a young boy or a woman, she wasn’t sure — crying and sobbing silently somewhere in the room. The police were pretty irritated when they left and the teacher seemed desperate for someone to believe her. She’d frightened Todd pretty good trying to make him stay with her.

She was gone the next morning. Her car was still in the lot. Everyone assumed she must’ve run screaming into the night like in a cheesy campfire story.

Sometimes a tenant in room 127, 128, or 130 reported hearing someone sobbing next door, usually late in the evenings. One guy had actually knocked on the door to the Crying Room and asked if everyone was okay in there. The sobbing stopped, and the room was quiet for two days.

The last guy to stay in 129 was a mediocre writer of children’s lit, Benjamin Hammond. He’d heard about the Crying Room and wanted to stay in it for a night or two. He was working on a book about childhood night terrors — closet monsters, bogeymen and the like — and thought studying Room 129 would help his research. Like the other three vanishing acts he was gone the next morning; but later that same day the college girl staying in Room 127 filed a complaint with Ed, saying the rowdy lovers in 129 had woke her up late at night.

“I had an important interview today and only got about five hours of sleep for it,” she said. “I wake up to those two wrestling next door like they’re the only ones in the building, one of ‘em going on with this pathetic whimpering and another giggling like a child. I pounded on the wall and told ‘em to keep it down, and the racket stopped, but they’d woke me up at midnight all the same. I mean, guys and gals gotta have fun now and then, but goddamn…”

Ed shared this little anecdote with Todd and the others. They all knew the author had checked in alone.


Ed sat everyone down in his office earlier today and said he wanted something done about Room 129. The other attendants were so scared they wouldn’t be caught dead in there. So it was up to Todd to save the day — “like always,” he’d reminded his coworkers as he patted each of their scowling heads — and that’s why he was walking down a green carpeted hall stinking of fresh paint with a hotel key in his hand instead of driving home to the comfort of his apartment.

“Stay the night in 129,” Ed said. “Figure out what’s going on in there. Maybe it’s a prank. Maybe it’s a ghost! Who knows? Figure it out and there’s a raise in it for you. I can’t afford to keep losing tenants. Bad publicity.”

“It’s a prank all right,” Todd thinks, reflecting on the meeting, “to see if they can break me. What a waste of time and effort that could be spent actually cleaning this dump.”

Bad publicity. Todd thinks of scabies and dead hookers and wrinkles his nose.


Todd wakes suddenly in the night and finds himself sitting upright, staring into darkness. The unfamiliar bed startles him at first, but with a groan he quickly remembers where he is.

His heart kicks the inside of his throat like he’s been jogging for the last hour. He has trouble breathing as if the air is made of lead. Neither of his arms will reach over to turn on the bedside lamp. They’re frozen stiff. He can’t remember what nightmare could have pulled him so abruptly out of a sound sleep or put him in such a frightened state.

Was it a nightmare that woke him? Or was it that icepick jab in the pit of his stomach — jabbing him still — trying to tell him that someone came into the room while he was asleep? Ten minutes pass as he allows his eyes to adjust to the dark, but the room is deserted except for the comforter wadded in the corner; quiet except for the sound of his own uneasy breath.

Todd’s muscles soften and he releases a long sigh. Skimming through the author’s notes before bed was a mistake, all right. Late night thoughts of boogeymen and closet monsters and Baba Yaga have made him as paranoid as a five-year-old. He lies down again. Takes in another lungful of stale air.

An hour later Todd wakes up again. Someone is weeping silently nearby.

He bolts upright and scans the room. There’s nobody. The shape in the corner is still a wadded comforter. His head still swimming from waking so suddenly, he loudly mumbles, “Whoozere?”

The room is quiet. It stays quiet for the fifteen minutes Todd sits there, listening, wondering if he had heard anything at all. Angrily he swats the missing author’s notebook off the bedside table and goes back to sleep.

Todd has barely slept a half hour when he’s awoken once again by the voice. It’s unmistakable this time: a delicate, miserable voice trying shamefully not to cry too loudly.

Now Todd’s mind is crisp and clear. “Who’s there?” he whispers.

Like before, the voice holds its breath. After a few minutes it starts crying again.

Todd can’t pinpoint the source of the voice: it seems to come from all around him, from the room itself. He climbs out of bed to get a better bearing. He plants his feet on the carpet and stands up, wobbling slightly.

The weeping suddenly stops.

Something made of old leather paws at Todd’s ankle.

Survival instinct takes over. Todd’s feet leave the floor as he lunges forward like a rabbit escaping a snapping bear trap; he twists in midair, crashes headfirst into the wall and lands on his side. Barbs of pain drip through the joints of his skull and fill his eye sockets. His ears are ringing. He might have cracked one of his ribs. He doesn’t care. The bed has a firm hold of all his brain’s conscious functions.

There’s nothing where his feet had been. But Todd knows there was something a moment ago.

The voice starts crying again.

It can’t be coming from under there. Nothing could live under there for two months.

Todd inches steadily forward — eyes never leaving the spot by the bed where the thing touched him — and turns on the bedside lamp. Somehow it makes the void beyond the bed skirt even more sinister.

Seemingly of its own free will, Todd’s hand reaches for the bottom of the skirt. The crying stops when his fingers brush it.

It’s Ed, Todd thinks, his blood sizzling like cooking oil. Or Gladys. Bitch blubbers like that all the time.

Todd bites his lip and puts his ear to the carpet inches from the bed frame. He pulls the bed skirt upward, a montage of angry curses on the tip of his tongue.

The hand that reaches out to greet him is vaguely human.

The ancient eyes staring at him from the shadows are not.

Suddenly Todd doesn’t care if it’s a prank. He doesn’t care if there’s a raise in it for him. And in the next ten seconds he doesn’t care that he’s running across the hotel parking lot in his boxer shorts.

Credit To – Mike MacDee

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 8.6/10 (596 votes cast)


March 7, 2014 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 5.9/10 (333 votes cast)

Westley was rich. Not in the manor in which he was stuck up or thought he was better than everyone else, but in the manner where the only friends he could find were those who really only cared for his money and not him. That being said, life was rather difficult for him. He was a senior in high school now, with acceptance into his first choice school on scholarship. To many of the less impressive, less well-off students in school he was well on his way to becoming the most secretly hated student on campus. Still, it made it easier to weed out those friends of his who weren’t in fact friends at all. They would treat him well, but he was well aware of the whispers and glances of envy that he’d been receiving from those who claimed to adore him. And he wasn’t about to allow them to spoil his last few days of school.

His parents were going away on holiday, you see. And they had assured him that while they were away, he could have the house to himself for the summer to do with it as he wished, so long as he cleaned up the mess. He’d decided to give himself one final hoorah; a commemoration for making it through the most confusing and disheartening four years of his life, and he decided to do so with five of his truest and least malicious friends.
He chose his compatriots carefully; there would be Alisson, his long time crush who, despite her disinterest in him, had always been very loyal to him; Rodney, who had been in theatre with him and always pushed him to do his best, regardless of his shy demeanor; Micheal, who occasionally made comments about their English teachers rear end, and seemed more intrigued by what his groin wanted then gossip about the spoiled rich kid; Lester, who rarely spoke but sat with him at lunch and seemed thankful when Westley packed extra food for him; and last was Gretchen, a foreign student with very good English who, for whatever reason, had a thing for the sweet little rich boy before she knew of his wealth.
He’d asked them to come over, after convincing his parents that their night wouldn’t be complete without drinks and assured them that nobody would be leaving while intoxicated, at 8 sharp after their final day of school.

The two girls arrived first; they had become friends themselves through their mutual companionship with Westley and arrived together. Lester was next through the door and then Rodney, who was followed quickly by Micheal.
After a brief greeting by each guest, Westley took a good look at his group; a strange combination of faces surrounded him, but they were the closest thing to a gang he’d ever get, and it made him happy that they had chosen to begin their final high school summer by his side. He lifted his bottle of beer in the air. “Here’s to making it.” He offered, and everyone returned the gesture with theirs, cheering in agreeance. He was just about to begin telling them of his plans for the evening, when a sudden ringing echoed through the massive, endless house.
Westley’s brow furrowed. The doorbell? But everyone was already there… “What the hell?”

He sauntered from the dining hall and through the foyer, to the door peering through the peep hole. A youth who couldn’t have been much different age from himself stood there in a navy hoodie, despite the ninety degree weather, head down as though in prayer. Westley was confused; he couldn’t see the youth’s face, but he was certain he didn’t know him. And moreover, he felt like something simply wasn’t right.
Slumped over his shoulder, in a pink hoodie which also hid a face, was a female with long, blonde locks that hung past her chest. She was holding her stomach, where deep red liquid had seeped through her sweatshirt.
Westley bit his lip. He could clearly see that she was injured, and badly in need of help, but he just didn’t feel right about the whole thing. It was a small town; everybody knew everybody. How were there two youths that he should have gone to school with standing on his steep, and he hadn’t a clue who they could have been?
He kept the chain on the door, but cracked it just enough to draw his head through the crack. “Can I help you?” He asked, heistant.
“Please, My girlfriend is hurt. You have to help us.” His voice fluctuated, but there was not shaking to it. No panic. It felt rehearsed.
“Who are you?” Westley asked. “I know everyone in town, but I’ve never seen you…”
“Please, sir. You have to help us.” Demanding, but not terrified. Steady.
“What happened?” Westley asked.
“Car accident. Please help.”
Westley took a moment to think. “I’ll call an ambulance for you. Just wait here.”
He went to close the door, but a hand that seemed too strong for such a narrow youth swung out and held it opened. “I have to tell her mother, sir. Please, let me in. Let me use our phone. I have to tell her family what’s happened.” He insisted. There wa an urgency, but not one of panick, but of anger. He was frustrated with Westley.
“I don’t know…” He started.
“what’s going on?” The Voice was soft and dainty, and it came from behind him.
Alisson came upon his shoulder, and the rest of the pack was sure to follow. Westley shrugged. “They need an ambulance. I told them I would call.” He offered.
“I need to call her family.” The young man insisted. “To let them know what happened.”
“Let them in.” Alisson offered.
“I don’t think I should. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Come on, dude,” Micheal chimed in. “You going to let them lovely thing die out here?”
Westley hesitated. “please wait out here. I’ll go call an ambulance.” He insisted before closing the door on the couple and vanishing into another room in the maze of a house.
Rodney frowned. “What’s his problem?”
Micheal shrugged. “Hell if I know. She looked hot though. I say we let them in.”
Alisson shoved him. “Don’t you ever use your other head?” She questioned. “Look, I agree that they shouldn’t have to sit out there, but it’s Westley’s house. If he says he doesn’t want them inside, we have to respect that.”
Rodney lifted an eyebrow. “So we should just let them sit out there and die?”
“Ali is right.” Said the blonde with the light German accent. “Have some respect.”
Micheal rolled his eyes. “You just want to get in his pants, Geretch.” He offered. “You know she shouldn’t have to sit out there as much as we do.”
“But it is not your house!” She insisted.
The four of them were so busy arguing amongst themselves that they seemed to overlook the young, silent boy in the group as he made his way to the door. Lester wrapped his fingers around the handle, and released its hold, swinging it open. The room fell silent as the door swung wide open. “Come in.” He offered, and everyone stared in awe at the open threshold.
A smile crossed both of their lips, as though on cue and they lifted their pale heads. Their flesh was blue and pale like death, but that wasn’t their distinguishing feature. No, their eyes, solid black all the way through, like voids into another world. Four devilish black eyes lay upon the room, and with said invitation, they vanished before the groups eyes.
Westley returned to the room within seconds of their vanishing, to a room with an entirely new aura. Those who had been against leaving the teens in the cold had certainly changed their outlook now. “The ambulance is on its way.” Westley offered with uncertain assurance. “What did I miss?”
Micheal raised a shaking hand to the doorway. “They…. They vanished.” He offered, amazed and terrified all at once.
“How do you…?” Westley started.
“It was Lester!” Gretchen accused. “He told them they could come in, and they vanished.”
“You were going to let those… those things into my house?!” He shouted at the silent youth. But he gave that some thought, and turned to Gretchen. “Wait: what do you mean ‘vanished’?”
Alisson interjected. ‘Gone. Poof! Up in smoke. “They vanished right in front of us like some sort of ghost.” She offered as explanation, though it raised more question in Westley’s mind. “Whatever they were, they sure as hell weren’t Normal.”
Westley felt a sickness creep through his body. It started at his knees, then worked its way to his stomach, heart, and stopped just shy of his esophagus. He wanted to vomit. He had no idea what had happened, but he got the feeling that his little friend had just invited a nightmare into his home. And if that was all they needed to hear was an offer of entry, he was certain they hadn’t left. They were inside, somewhere. “They are here.” He muttered to himself.
“Here?” Rodney questioned.
He looked up at them. “In the house. They… they must have needed to be invited in.” they returned his declaration with blank stares. “Don’t you get it? They couldn’t enter without our permission, and they got it!”
“Are you trying to say that we’re dealing with some sort of… vampire or something?” Alisson questioned. It just seemed silly to her. “That’s ridiculous. Look; maybe we just imagined this whole thing. They probably just… I don’t know, left? She looked like she was in bad shape. Maybe they just went to another house for help.”
“Or maybe they are going to drain our blood and leave us for dead.” Micheal Retorted.
Gretchen crossed her arms over her full chest. “We should stay together either way. We’ll be safer if…”
A door swung open, and with a gust of wind a shade of mist, Gretchen went flying across the room and into the void that was once their kitchen. She screamed the way there, until the door slammed shut behind her, and silence befell the room.
The group stared at the door with fearful amazement. “Gretch?” Westley muttered, but after several seconds, there was no response. “Hey, Gretchen…” He tried again, but not a sound came from the room.
He inched closer, the other four following close behind him. His hand inched toward the door, slowly. He was careful and hesitant as he reached out for the only barrier between the group and the monsters inside. But as he finally gained the courage to turn the knob and push the door open, he realized that the room was just as barren as they had left it.
“G—Gretchen?” His voice shook as he called her name, but there was no answer.
“Maybe she got scared. I can’t say I blame her…” Alisson offered.
Westley shook his head. “No, she has to be here. They have her.” He insisted. “She couldn’t have just up and run, there’s something inhuman in here. I can feel it.”
Micheal rolled his eyes and pushed forward. “Very funny, Gretch!” He offered. No response. “Look, we get it; Funny joke, haha. Now come on out.” He insisted. Nothing.
Rodney crossed his arms. “I don’t think it’s a joke, Mike.” He offered. “If it was, those were some pretty spectacular special effects, don’t you think?”
Micheal shook his head. “No, this is too messed up! It has to be a joke. Some stupid prank, one last hoorah before we go our separate ways. Westley’s probably in on it too, that’s why he invited us here, right? Right?!”
Westley took a step back. His friend sounded almost threatening, and it made him uncomfortable. “I had nothing to do with any of this.” He insisted. “I swear.”
Mike sneered. “Oh shut up! You’re the one spouting off all this nonsense about some crazy creatures coming in here. It’s straight out of a horror movie!”
“We are all scared!” Alisson interjected. “But this isn’t anyone’s fault! If Westley was a part of this, he would have let us know by now. He wouldn’t let it go this far.” She insisted. “Right, Wes?”
“Of course!” He insisted. “When have I ever tried anything like this? Come on, this isn’t me!”
Mike was just about to continue his accusations, but the door closed behind them and, when they tried to force it open once more, it simply wouldn’t budge. Panic filled the room, as the ever present evil that now occupied that house overwhelmed the remaining five.
They turned, ready to try the door leading outside, but stopped dead in their tracked. Something blocked their way. A young boy, about their age, with solid black eyes and a malicious grin. “Going somewhere?” He asked.

What do you want?!” Rodney shouted.
“Calm down, sweetie.” The voice came from behind the group. Female, and full of malice. “It’s just a little fun.”
They turned to face the falsely injured girl before shifting their gaze back to the other creature in the room once more.
“Where’s Gretchen?” Westley insisted. But to his question, they simply gave a vicious giggle and disappeared.
The female figure appeared behind Rodney, wrapping her arms around him before vanishing yet again, pulling the boy with her. “Rodney!” Alisson shouted.
A hand grabbed her arm and, with a shriek, she was pulled through the outside door and vanished without a trace. Micheal rushed to the door and pulled on it, shouting her name endlessly before he sunk to his knees, tears swelling in his eyes. “What’s happening?! Where are they taking them?”
Westley would have responded, but he was in shock. He simply stared out the window of that closed door in terrified astonishment, horrified by the events. Three left, he though, Just three more of us. We are going to go wherever they are going. We are going to be killed or tortured or… who knows what will happen to us. We will vanish just like they have.
Micheal was now back on his feet, determined to reunite with the others. He slammed his body into the door, but despite his efforts, it simply wouldn’t break. They were trapped in the room with no hope.
But something was happening to the paralyzed Westley. He body was, literally, disintegrating before his eyes. He watched as his hands and feet vanished, and then his arms and legs, and then his torso began to leave him. “Mike…” He muttered, too stunned to explain.
Micheal halted to turn to his friend, but he was gone before he could reach him, and then he was gone. Mike was now desperate. He grabbed a pan from the cupboard and slammed it into the glass panes on the door, shattering it, but before he could leave, the glass reappeared before him. “What the….”
Before he could finish this thought, a light shined down upon him, and he two was gone.
And then there was one. One boy who had been silent throughout this whole endeavor. One boy who had let the evil in. He stared with wide eyes as his friends vanished one by one, and now he stood alone in the kitchen of a house he did not own.
The black eyed children appeared behind him, each with a hand on his shoulder. “Ready?” They asked in unison. And to that, he nodded, and the light came and took them away.

Credit To – Liz loveless

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 5.9/10 (333 votes cast)

Are You Still There?

March 6, 2014 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 8.5/10 (576 votes cast)

Chatroom log transcribed by *name expunged* on *date expunged*. Screen names presumably substituted by account holders’ real names for easier reference. Whether incident described was real or fabricated cannot be determined, as transcriber has vanished without a trace.


[11:29:09 PM] – Jon has joined the chatroom

[11:29:14 PM] – Matt has joined the chatroom

[11:29:16 PM] Jon: holla

[11:29:20 PM] Matt: holla!

[11:29:22 PM] Matt: haha

[11:29:31 PM] Matt: what the crap was sabatini talking about Tuesday?

[11:30:02 PM] Jon: I wasn’t in class Tuesday.

[11:30:03 PM] Matt: about the futurists

[11:30:09 PM] Jon: I was sick.

[11:30:13 PM] Matt: oh. you were ditchin

[11:30:22 PM] Jon: no I was sick. swear to god.

[11:30:22 PM] Matt: :D

[11:30:33 PM] Jon: came down with a cold or something.

[11:30:40 PM] Matt: whatever ditcher

[11:30:45 PM] Matt: holla Jimi!

[11:31:30 PM] Matt: nice to see you too. fuck.

[11:31:31 PM] Matt: holla! >:(

[11:31:33 PM] Jon: Jimi’s idle again.

[11:31:40 PM] Matt: hate how he does that. just logs in and walks away

[11:31:42 PM] Jon: or he’s toking up.

[11:31:51 PM] Matt: haha

[11:32:10 PM] Jon: what’s your deal with Sabatini’s class?

[11:32:59 PM] Matt: the futurist manifestos. supposed to have read em but I didn’t make any sense out of em

[11:33:04 PM] Matt: something about cars and graveyards and shit

[11:33:21 PM] Matt: and you know how he just throws the material at us and expects us to learn something like we got mind-reading powers

[11:33:34 PM] Jon: what you put into his classes is what you take out of it.

[11:33:41 PM] Jon: he expects each of us to decide what’s significant about the material.

[11:34:19 PM] Matt: shit I coulda just not signed up for the class and bought the book and read it on my own time then

[11:34:21 PM] Matt: >:(

[11:34:27 PM] Matt: hey bro I gotta skate ill see ya l8er

[11:34:35 PM] Jon: ok later.

[11:34:36 PM] Matt: see ya Jimi!

[11:34:49 PM] – Matt has left the chatroom

[11:39:40 PM] – Jimi is no longer idle

[11:40:02 PM] Jimi: jon you there?

[11:40:19 PM] Jon: yeah.

[11:40:26 PM] Jimi: the neighborhood is gone

[11:40:27 PM] Jon: Jimi how come you don’t answer my calls?

[11:40:32 PM] Jon: what?

[11:40:40 PM] Jimi: the neighborhood is gone

[11:41:05 PM] Jon: I don’t follow you.

[11:41:29 PM] Jimi: somethings wrong

[11:41:35 PM] Jimi: can you see outside your windows?

[11:41:51 PM] Jon: what you been smoking Jimi?

[11:41:59 PM] Jimi: can you see outside your windows?

[11:42:18 PM] Jon: yeah.

[11:42:26 PM] Jimi: what do you see?

[11:42:31 PM] Jon: street lights.

[11:42:38 PM] Jon: Jimi what’s your problem man?

[11:42:49 PM] Jimi: i dont see street lights

[11:42:55 PM] Jimi: i dont see anything. just black. the neighborhood is gone.

[11:43:22 PM] Jon: Jimi if you’re tripping again I’m coming over there to beat your ass. I’m serious.

[11:43:58 PM] Jimi: im not tripping i swear. everything is just gone.

[11:44:20 PM] Jon: the lights on your street probably just burnt out

[11:49:00 PM] – Jimi is idle

[11:50:29 PM] Jon: you still there?

[12:19:53 AM] – Jon has left the chatroom


[10:54:20 PM] – Jon has joined the chatroom

[10:54:28 PM] Jon: Jimi how are you today? Everything all right?

[10:55:19 PM] Jon: Jimi talk to me buddy. You feeling all right?

[10:59:12 PM] – Jimi is no longer idle

[10:59:25 PM] Jimi: theres nothing outside

[10:59:58 PM] Jon: Jimi do you want me to come over?

[11:00:25 PM] Jimi: no dont come over

[11:00:29 PM] Jimi: stay there

[11:00:58 PM] Jon: Jimi what the fuck man? What’s going on over there?

[11:05:58 PM] – Jimi is idle

[11:07:06 PM] Jon: I’m getting tired of this Jimi.

[11:10:54 PM] Jon: grow up.

[11:30:01 PM] – Matt has joined the chatroom

[11:30:08 PM] Matt: holla!!!!

[11:30:14 PM] Matt: holla Jimi :D

[11:31:07 PM] Matt: Jimi you aint been at school in three days. Spring break isn’t for another month yo

[11:31:00 PM] – Jimi is no longer idle

[11:31:09 PM] Jimi: matt can you see outside your windows?

[11:31:23 PM] Matt: yeah I see ladies dancing

[11:31:39 PM] Matt: and theyre callin your name Jimi! They want yuh!

[11:31:41 PM] Jimi: i cant see anything. its pitch black outside my house.

[11:31:50 PM] Matt: for real?

[11:31:52 PM] Jimi: the neighborhoods gone. i dont know where i am.

[11:32:01 PM] Matt: haha what?

[11:32:02 PM] Jon: Jesus is he still going on about that?

[11:32:11 PM] Matt: whats he talking about Jon?

[11:32:30 PM] Jon: he’s being an asshole. He was babbling about it yesterday too.

[11:32:51 PM] Matt: haha Jimi whatre you on man? You take your meds?

[11:33:22 PM] Jimi: im not on anything

[11:33:56 PM] Jon: Jimi I’m coming over.

[11:33:58 PM] Jimi: im fuckin scared and all you guys do is give me shit

[11:34:09 PM] Jimi: no i told you dont come over

[11:34:10 PM] – Jon has left the chatroom


[11:58:12 PM] – Jon has joined the chatroom

[11:58:14 PM] Jimi: one was scratching on the window a minute ago

[11:58:27 PM] Matt: welcome to the twilight zone Jon haha

[11:58:39 PM] Jon: Christ Jimi what happened?

[11:58:40 PM] Matt: you’re missin out on some crazy shit

[11:58:51 PM] Jon: what happened to your house Jimi?

[11:59:02 PM] Matt: whats up with his house?

[11:59:07 PM] Jimi: did you go to my house jon?

[11:59:18 PM] Jon: it isn’t there. Just a foundation.

[11:59:19 PM] Jimi: i told you to stay away

[11:59:30 PM] Jon: Jimi what happened?

[11:59:31 PM] Matt: Jon are you serious?

[12:01:13 AM] Jimi: theres movement outside now. i cant see anything but i can hear things.

[12:01:53 AM] Jimi: i hear people talking outside real quiet. im scared to go near the windows.

[12:02:17 AM] Jon: Jimi when did this happen?

[12:03:11 AM] Jimi: did you see davan kellys painting?

[12:03:25 AM] Jon: yeah I think so. The scary one, right?

[12:04:15 AM] Jimi: he invited me over a couple times as a critic. he painted about a dozen of them and he wanted to know which one was scariest. i pointed to that one with the twisted face like a nightmare peeking out of the dark and told him it was like looking at a bad dream.

[12:04:59 AM] – Matt is idle

[12:05:02 AM] Jimi: and i dreamt about the thing in his painting that night. it wore shadow like a cloak and the face was distorted like something laying at the bottom of a pool when the waves havent settled.

[12:05:45 AM] Jimi: it just stood staring at me

[12:06:00 AM] Jon: damn.

[12:07:06 AM] Jimi: davan called me over again and when i got there he had all these new paintings, all worse than the one i picked before.

[12:07:40 AM] Jimi: i never saw anything so horrible

[12:07:56 AM] Jon: that bad, huh?

[12:09:11 AM] Jimi: no no no

[12:09:29 AM] Jimi: not poorly done horrible. never want to see again horrible. you shoulda seen them. they were almost alive

[12:13:42 AM] Jimi: i saw the thing in my sleep again, and there were others. they all stared at me like i was interrupting something and i still couldn’t make out their faces enough to see their eyes but davan said youre not supposed to look them in the eyes because youll freeze up and thats how they get you.

[12:14:30 AM] Jimi: davan saw how bad they made my skin crawl and he smiled

[12:15:10 AM] Jon: I haven’t seen Davan around campus. Did he lock himself in his studio?

[12:15:12 AM] Jimi: and after class one day he told me the things were from his dreams. he used to dream about them as a kid and they used to scare him, and then one day he stopped seeing them.

[12:15:59 AM] Jimi: but he started painting them and somehow they came back. he said he could make them appear in his dreams more vividly the more he painted them.

[12:16:28 AM] Jimi: he had this theory that when we sleep sometimes we see glimpses of other worlds and it might be possible to bring part of those worlds into ours

[12:18:56 AM] Jimi: davan told me that sometimes the paintings would show a twitch of movement or change slightly when he looked away. or he’d be walking past the studio door and hear his name being whispered in there. he said it scared him at first but he got used to it after a while and figured he was progressing.

[12:19:30 AM] Jimi: he was crazy. i think he wanted to meet one of them in person.

[12:18:37 AM] Jon: is he there with you?

[12:19:04 AM] Jimi: no hes gone and im next.

[12:21:00 AM] Jimi: he called me over for one last critique. he said it was really important to him and i didnt believe the shit he said before about the paintings moving. i didnt believe him. i thought he was just nuts but we were pals and i just wanted to help.

[12:26:00 AM] – Jimi is idle

[12:29:00 AM] Jon: Jimi you still there?

[12:29:11 AM] – Jimi is no longer idle

[12:29:31 AM] Jimi: davan opened the door and smiled like everything was normal. all the lights were out in his house and i started to ask him why but thats when i saw the shadows

[12:31:44 AM] Jimi: they moved like there was people swimming in them

[12:32:10 AM] Jimi: he invited me in but i turned and ran

[12:34:12 AM] Jimi: that was last weekend and this monday i woke up thinking it was the middle of the night but it was one in the afternoon and i couldnt see outside.

[12:39:12 AM] – Jimi is idle

[12:49:01 AM] – Matt is no longer idle

[12:49:10 AM] Matt: jesus man you weren’t kidding

[12:49:32 AM] Matt: Jimi you got some weird crap happening in your neighborhood

[12:49:39 AM] Jon: did you see his house Matt?

[12:49:56 AM] Matt: no man nothing there to see. like someone just picked it up and carried it off

[12:50:04 AM] Matt: what’d I miss?

[12:50:12 AM] Jon: scroll up and see for yourself.

[12:50:30 AM] Jon: Jimi try calling me on your phone.

[12:53:43 AM] Jon: Jimi you there?

[12:53:55 AM] Matt: wow

[12:55:00 AM] Matt: what do you make of all this?

[12:55:30 AM] Jon: well I can’t say he’s tripping on anything because that doesn’t explain the missing house.

[12:55:55 AM] Jon: keep him company for a while. I want to see if it’s the same at Davan’s place.

[12:56:11 AM] Matt: ok

[12:56:31 AM] Matt: Jimi you still there?

[12:56:35 AM] – Jon has left the chatroom


[02:09:30 AM] – Jon has joined the chatroom

[02:09:40 AM] Jon: it’s the same at Davan’s place! There’s nothing there!

[02:09:57 AM] Jon: Jimi you holding together?

[02:11:29 AM] Jon: Matt you still there?

[02:14:48 AM] Jon: Matt don’t fuck around I mean it.

[02:14:40 AM] – Jimi is no longer idle

[02:14:55 AM] Jimi: goddammit i told you not to come over here! why wont you listen to me?

[02:15:10 AM] Jon: Jimi calm down.

[02:15:30 AM] Jimi: did you think i was fuckin kidding? i told you to stay there!

[02:15:49 AM] Jimi: they came for me because i went to davans place! they get your scent and they come for you like when sharks smell blood!

[02:15:56 AM] Jon: Jimi have you been talking to Matt?

[02:16:45 AM] Jon: did you try calling my phone?

[02:20:21 AM] Jon: somebody please talk to me.

[02:20:49 AM] – Jimi is idle

[02:38:00 AM] – Matt is no longer idle

[02:38:04 AM] Matt: jon

[02:39:00 AM] Matt: jon you awake?

[02:39:09 AM] Jon: Matt what’s up? Where did you go?

[02:39:29 AM] Matt: nowhere jon

[02:39:55 AM] Jon: Matt what’s the matter?

[02:41:07 AM] Matt: drew came over. I was telling him about the situation and jimi was quiet for a long time.

[02:43:00 AM] Matt: it got drew, jon

[02:44:01 AM] Jon: what got Drew?

[02:44:50 AM] Matt: i dont know what it was

[02:45:33 AM] Matt: it got dark outside all of a sudden and drew wanted to step out and get a better look. We thought it was an eclipse

[02:46:11 AM] Matt: he opened the front door and there was nothing but blackness on the other side like the bottom of the ocean

[02:46:32 AM] Jon: is he okay?

[02:48:01 AM] Matt: this thing just appeared all of a sudden and stared him right in the eye like a snake. i dont know what it was but it was pale and gnarled and i think it was smiling

[02:49:03 AM] Matt: drew froze and just stood there staring at it and before i knew what was happening the blackness slurped him up

[02:49:27 AM] Matt: i flung the door closed as fast as i could

[02:49:28 AM] Jon: jesus

[02:54:27 AM] – Matt is idle

[02:55:57 AM] – Matt is no longer idle

[02:56:12 AM] Matt: i don’t know what to do. theyre out there right now looking for a way inside

[02:56:43 AM] Matt: theyre smiling at me through the windows

[02:56:57 AM] Matt: jon i don’t know what to do

[03:01:57 AM] – Matt is idle

[03:12:54 AM] – Jimi has left the chatroom

[03:14:07 AM] – Matt is no longer idle

[03:14:14 AM] Matt: i think jimis gone jon

[03:14:49 AM] Jon: shit something weird is going on over here.

[03:15:26 AM] Jon: hang in there matt. I’m going to haul my laptop out to my car so I’ll be gone just for a minute. I got to get out of here.

[03:15:38 AM] – Jon has left the chatroom


[03:27:54 AM] – Jon has joined the chatroom

[03:27:55 AM] Matt: please jon its inside

[03:28:08 AM] Jon: back and I’m in my car in the campus parking lot.

[03:28:17 AM] Jon: Matt what was that?

[03:29:59 AM] Jon: Matt talk to me.

[03:32:55 AM] – Matt is idle

[03:45:02 AM] Jon: somebody answer please.

[04:03:01 AM] – Matt has left the chatroom

[04:41:28 AM] Jon: shit i cant see anything the headlights don’t work at all

[04:50:11 AM] Jon: matt, jimi, please talk to me

[04:52:06 AM] Jon: please i dont want to look at them

[04:59:47 AM] Jon: please somebody

[10:07:17 PM] – Brian has joined the chatroom

[10:07:47 PM] Brian: hey guys whats goin on in here?

[10:10:14 PM] Brian: anybody home?

[10:14:03 PM] – Jon has left the chatroom

Credit To – Mike MacDee

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 8.5/10 (576 votes cast)


March 5, 2014 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 8.1/10 (382 votes cast)

Unless you wish to experience endless nights without sleep, the painful insomnia sent from the devil himself, don’t look. If you’re one of those lucky enough to fall asleep after such an experience as mine, then you’ll realize it soon. You’ll soon wake in the middle of the night screaming with the agony from the torturous nightmares you’ll have no choice but to endure. But there is one way to save yourself. You simply cannot look. Please. Please heed my advice, friend…

Don’t look into your bedroom mirror at night while the lights are off.

On one wretched night I had been out late with some friends at a batchelorette party. In order to stay up for the fun I had drank about five cups of coffee. The biggest mistake of my life. We ended up staying at a club until about one in the morning and then by that time we had decided to go home. Well, once I had arrived at my house I had realized just how wired I still was from all of the caffeine. I was wide awake. That was going to be a problem. I had to be up by seven in the morning to get ready for my friend’s bridal rehearsal, so I really needed to get some sleep. And unfortunately for me, I tried to.

I went to my room and quickly changed into a comfortable T-shirt and some shorts. Then I walked over to a large full-length mirror I had in my room and stared at myself for a moment, taking in the view of myself in my nightwear. Content that I was just about ready for bed, I began to turn toward my bedroom door, but stopped dead in my tracks for a moment when a strange feeling washed over me. I shuddered and scanned the room with confusion. I didn’t know why, but I had the feeling that I was being watched. I mean, I know everyone sort of has that kind of paranoia once in a while, but this somehow felt different. It felt too real…as though someone were actually standing in my room and staring at me, drilling holes into the back of my head. I turned my head and looked behind me, but no one was there. My reflection wore the same confused look that I did. Trying to shake off the feeling, I headed over to the bathroom.

I walked into my dark bathroom with the intent of brushing my teeth before going to bed. I slid my hand along the wall and searched for the lightswitch. I always had trouble finding it for some reason, but it only took a couple of seconds. My fingers soon met something on the wall, but it felt strange. It was cold and soft. Definitely not a lightswitch. I quickly retracted my hand, a surprised and perplexed expression forming on my face. There shouldn’t have been anything on that wall except for the light switch…

In a quick motion I pushed the bathroom door open wide hoping to shed some more light and find whatever my hand had touched on the wall. My head spun back to the wall and I jumped when I thought I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. It was only for a split second, but I could’ve sworn that I saw something protruding out of the mirror. I quickly found the lightswitch and sighed with relief when the light poured out from the overhead bulbs. I then turned my attention immediately to the wall. All that was there was a lightswitch. Nothing else. I leaned up against the doorframe and looked around as I raised a nervous hand to my neck. My eyes surveyed the scene and landed on the mirror that was directly in front of me. My reflection was as perplexed as ever, looking really uncomfortable and almost worried. I moved my hand to my forehead and wiped my sweaty brow, forcing a little laugh as I scolded myself. I was being ridiculous, acting like an easily frightened child. I shook my head and reached for my toothbrush.

When I walked back into my room, I noticed just how much of a mess my bed was. There were clothes strewn about it and about a million shopping bags from the previous day’s spree littering it. Had it really been like that this morning? I actually left it like that? I felt like such a slob, but really didn’t feel like organizing the mess at two in the morning. I went and retrieved a couple of blankets from the closet and found a spot on the floor a few feet in front of my full length mirror that wasn’t scattered with articles of clothing. I folded the blankets into a sort of makeshift sleeping bag and finished it off by plopping my pillow down at the end. It looked so comfortable, and I was certain that I’d be able to fall asleep in no time at all. With that thought in mind, I went to close my bedroom door and shut off my overhead light and then shuffled into my cozy cacoon. I laid on my stomach and crossed my arms over my pillow as I faced my mirror, gazing back at myself in total comfort. I looked so relaxed, and soon I closed my eyes. The clock read 2:13 AM.

After a couple of minutes of lying in silence, I heard a car door slam in the driveway next door. I knew the sound had been made by my neighbor since a couple of seconds later a spotlight illuminated, casting a stream of dim light through the blinds of my window. I was usually okay with the spotlight as it had never disturbed my slumber before but due to my new position on the floor the light had found a clear path to my eyelids, penetrating them to the point where I had become mildly annoyed. I slowly opened an eye and glanced up at the window. I sighed, waiting for the light to die out, but it didn’t. Feeling more annoyed, I rolled my eyes and in an instant they rested on my mirror.

At that moment, my breathing stopped. I couldn’t close my eyes and I couldn’t look away. I was frozen. Staring back at me through the glass was my reflection. On any other occasion this wouldn’t have chilled me, but this time it was different. My reflection…

Its eyes were watching me. And I don’t mean the average look your reflection is supposed to return. Oh no, this was something completely different.

Its eyes were wide open. Much wider than I could ever make them.

The sight paralyzed me, but only momentarily. I just figured that I had startled myself. Trying to avoid eye contact with my own image, I closed my eyes and tried to get back to sleep. The clock read 2:25 AM.

I didn’t make any progress in my attempts as the minutes continued to pass. The clock ticked steadily in its place on the wall.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The light from my neighbor’s driveway still hadn’t turned off. My aggravation was beginning to build. At this rate I wouldn’t get any shut eye! Feeling hopeless, I opened my eyes and nearly jumped out of my skin when I looked into the mirror again.

My reflection was staring at me with those same wide, intense eyes. But it wasn’t only that…

Its eyes were now completely bloodshot and its mouth was contorted into a menacing scowl. It looked like a rabid predator staring at its prey after days of looking for it. It was terrifying, but that wasn’t the only reason the view had alarmed me…

I didn’t know if it was just my imagination or not…but it looked as though my reflection had gotten closer to the mirror.

I was so scared I could hardly move, but I had to avert my eyes. I had to! I quickly pulled the blanket up over my head, my breathing now heavy. I tightly closed my eyes, praying that I had only imagined the image. It had seemed so real, and so evil, like it actually wanted to hurt me!

But the very thought was insane. It was an image in a mirror, my reflection! It wasn’t real… It was just a copy…it was just another me!

At that moment I heard the all too familiar creaking sound of my bedroom door being opened slowly behind me. I froze under the covers.

I lived alone…

With a shaky hand I lifted the blanket just slightly to peek out. I peered into the mirror at the door behind me and my eyes instantly grew wide in fear. The door was slightly ajar, but that wasn’t the part that terrified me.

My reflection wasn’t in the mirror anymore.

I was now breathing heavier than I ever had before, my whole body shaking in fright. I sat up and quickly reached for the baseball bat that laid on the floor beside a pile of magazines. I heard the door creak again and I spun around to face it, the bat now in hand and ready to be used if necessary.

“W-who’s there?!” I stammered loudly, the fear in my voice ringing out. There was no answer. I repeated myself, now on the verge of tears, and still there was no answer. I was about to slide out of my covers when the door suddenly slammed shut. I jumped and dropped my bat, falling backward onto my elbows, inches from the mirror.

My fear level was through the roof. My heart was beating uncontrollably. I had a major headache now and I began to quietly sob. And that’s when I heard it. A low growl. It gurgled into my eardrums, a guttural sound, and it most certainly was not that of a human’s…

Then I felt the hot breath on the back of my neck. I never had the chance to scream.

My neighbor’s spotlight died out. The clock read 3:00 AM.

Credit To – Whacko12

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 8.1/10 (382 votes cast)
Try a free sample Personal Astrology Profile!