The Father

December 9, 2012 at 12:00 PM
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Patient 1970
Log 4
Dr. Evans
11:23 am Wednesday

Patient shows further signs of deterioration. MRI scans show that brain matter shows no signs of damage, however, the actual electrical currents are continually changing and decreasing. I have been caring for this 30 year old man for about a month now, yet it seems like years. He came in with very little wrong. He just constantly talked about his father. His wife was scared about him becoming violent or losing his mind at the death of his father two years prior but while in our care he has shown no signs of violence.

What he has shown is immaturity. To a level expected of a teenager. He constantly hits on nurses or assisstants half his age as if he were trying to pick up an older woman. This is a considerable change from when he was enrolled here. He was, at that time, simply worried that his father wouldn’t forgive him. Considerable sentiment given it is well documented that he and his father had a tenuous relationship. The worry really came from the fact that whenever you tried to talk with him about his father, or ask him about what he was saying about him, he would look at you dazed.

At this time I feel it may be a related dementia to his father, as his father died in a tragic accident after losing his mind, suffering from both Alzhimers and Paranoia. The stressed relationship between father and son lead to the son burning all of his fathers photos shortly before his death, and a proclaimed irrational fear of digital photography leaves me guessing at the mans identity.

The Patient has not recognized his wife in over a week, asking her who she is and telling her to “buzz off” as she was impeding his “hunt for tang.” He has also not recognized that she has stopped visiting. It seems the deterioration is progressing in new ways. For now we can only continue to test him and hope his uncle can straighten him out.

** * **

Patient 2354
Log 1
Dr. Evans
10:27pm Saturday

I hate late night patients. I also hate when a person enrolls themself due to self paranoia. But policy states that we must accept any patient till we run out of room.

Personal notes asside, a young woman came into the ward about 4 hours ago. She claimed she had been enjoying the eavning air near a local park. She had just finished baby-sitting for a friend and was enjoying the sound of late night childs play. She had been desiring a kid for a while now, but has been single for the past two years. As she sat, she noticed a person in light jacket and jeans. Considering the fall weather we’ve been having this is reasonable. She changes her position to sit next to this person and attempts to start a conversation. The person she now identified as a man simply nodded his head at her attempts at conversation but made no attempts to reply. When some young children came up to them, the patient insists there was no calling of them over for some reason, the man looked around then pulled something out of his pocket.

— — —

Apologies for the break. The patient was demanding she be allowed to see her father and causing a ruckus. Anyways, what the man pulled out appeared to be a small bag of candy. The patient was able to identify black licorice from the scent. When the chilren’s parents appeared to take their children home the man offered some candy to the parents. At this point the patient assumed the man was a mute as he still never said a word. The parents were rightfully wary of a strange mute man offering candy for children. As if to deny their suspicions he offered the patient a piece of candy. Loving black licorice she accepted without question, chewing and swallowing the small piece of gummy candy in seconds. This seemed to appease the two parents and they allowed their children to each have a single piece of candy before leaving.

The patients fear comes from what happened next. Not a minute after the parents and children were out of sight, leaving the park empty outside of the patient and the man, the man turned to her and  pressed his forehead to hers. She was so off put she jumped away, much to the dismay of the man. Then she said she lost control of herself, and bowed in applogy even though all of her kept stating to run away from him. The man simply stood and returned the bow then walked off smiling.

The patient chose to enroll herself in our facilities out of fear she is losing her good sense under the premises of accepting the piece of candy and apologizing for an unwanted and forward action. I don’t see this patient staying more than a couple of days max to get required testing out of the way. It’s late, I’m going to bed.

** * **

Patient 2354
Log 2
Dr. Evans
12:00 pm Thursday

No new patients has left me with time to annalyze those already under my care. I’ve decided to do these reports at a more reasonable time since I almost fell asleep at my desk writing the last one for patient 980. Now I have a cup of coffee and a decent meal in my stomach.

This patient…worries me. To say the least. MRI scans show that her mental faculties are beginning to shut down at an alarming rate. It has been almost a week and yet she has already deteriorated to the same level as patient 1970 who at the time of this writing is next on my to-do list. Both of them now act as if they were five year olds. However patient 2354 seems to be deteriorating at a faster pace than her predecessor. Whatever the cause of this anomally is, both patients are now obsessing over their fathers, throwing tantrums and crying when they don’t get their way.

The only refuge nurses have from these problems is two people. One for each patient. For this patient it is a young man with constantly short, disheveled, brown hair. He always wears a thin white wind-breaker and some jeans. In fact he closely resembles the description of the man the Patient described as giving her the candy. I pass this off as coincidence since she seemed horrified that that man would even touch her.

With this visitor the Patient is far calmer than when they are not. She also seems to be clinging to the man quite a lot. His ID states that he is her brother and he’s been writing his notes as he has a throat infection from his singing career, a story I looked into. It checks out. What worries me about this arrangement is that she does not identify this man as her brother but as her father. This doesn’t seem to bother him at all but I find it odd that she only does this to this man. I’ve also noticed that 1970 also seems to calm down some around this man, though not nearly as much as he does to his “Patron Father,” who is an older man claiming to be his uncle, using sign language after losing his vocal cord functionality after a bout with thyroid cancer. Again, I checked the story and with the ID given, it checks out.

Patients are about to be let outside for a break so I think I’ll end this here.

** * **

Personal note
Dr. Evans
9:00 pm Saturday

This is a note more to myself than anyone. I’ve begun noticing some odd things with my patients. With no new ones to speak of, I’ve had plenty of time to look over 2354 and 1970′s cases. I’ve noticed a few conjoining factors.

First and foremost there are the obvious factors of their obsession with their fathers, their “Patron Fathers,” as well as the deterioration process of their minds.

But what I hadn’t put together till just over an hour ago at dinner, was that they both had similar experiences before showing these symptoms. 2354 had her man at the park, and 1970 and his wife bumped into an older man feeding pidgeons and snacking on candy by the central fountain, just next to the police station. The wife didn’t take any when the man offered due to her dislike of licorice, but her husband had.

I will admit here and now, I’m starting to get an eerie feeling about these patients, because the best is yet to come. Both patients described the person who had given them licorice before in good detail. Their “Patron Fathers” also closely resemble the respective descriptions.

I’m beginning to wonder if the people visiting my patients are in fact the cause of this issue. If so, how? To cause such a precise mental deterioration is beyond modern science, and doubtfuly future science could attempt such a feat.

Also it was brought to my attention a small detail of our visitor process is that we clear the pockets of anyone visiting a patient. This is to prevent bringing harm to the patient or helping them harm themselves. The guard in charge of security for the last few days had gone over my recent patient logs and felt it relevant to tell me that both of their “Patron Fathers” had small bags of licorice. Each bag uniqe in shape and quantity held but both were black licorice. He has been informed to confront the guests about these items and report directly to me his findings.

In my fifty years of living, I have never been more worried for the well being of humanity than I am at this moment, for in these moments I question my own sanity, and the sanity of a world where being kind…could well be deadly.

** * **

Patient 1970
Log 6
Dr. Evans
12:00 pm Monday

Patient 2354 is dead. She died over the weekend. Her brain simply stopped functioning. The nurses told me she was hard at play with a large plastic car then she suddenly collapsed. Autopsy reports showed no signs of internal hemmoraging or internal damage. Her brain just simply…stopped.

To make matters worse Patient 1970 is now in a coma. It seems that his 10 year age difference over his predecessor granted a slower hell than she was. My best assessment of this would be that the candy takes longer to take you down the longer you’ve been alive. I’d like to run tests on the candy to prove my theory but the guard who was under my employ has wound up missing. Police have searched everywhere but can’t find him. An investigation of his house found that his home was torn apart as if a large dog had mauled everything. There was traces of the guards blood, so they fear the worst. Seeing as my only patient is now incapacitated, it seems my logs will be much shorter.
** * **

Patient 0
Log 1
Dr. Evans
4:00 pm Friday

Patient 0, named so as this one I caught early. Since I have had no patients under my care for the last two days I had been looking for another case like this. One with the candy, the father obsession, and hopefully another “Patron” with some form of throat issue.

I recieved a letter in my drop box yesterday. It was covered in blood, and taped closed. There was no envelope, just two pieces of paper folded together and sealed to hold it closed. My guard came through in the end. Kind of. The letter read as follows:

“Dear Dr. Evans,

Under no circumstance should you trust The Father. Not only is he not human, he is not kind. I asked about the candy the next time he visited, shortly before one of the children passed into his everlasting care. His visage denied the existance of The Gate, those dumb little candies. So before I gave him his things I took one of them to attempt to give to you. I think he knew when I did it but couldn’t do anything, lest he give himself away.

No. Not again. I can hear the crying of his children. Sounds of laughter turn to screams once you pass The Gate. There’s no way back once you cross. It’s to late for me, but you can save others now. The candy IS THE CAUSE. Never eat it. You will see him for the demon he truely is and you will hear his true voice. I’m going to deliver this to you before he can claim me. I’ve already slipped a few times after he forced me to eat so many of them, his punishment for stealing a Gate. I’m going quickly but if he claims me I won’t be able to rest peacefully.

Goodbye Doctor. I wish you luck.”

The next morning the guard was on the news. Dead. He had been on top of a local hotel, he had broken onto the roof and apparantly attempted to jump. The report said no known cause could be determined. But I know. I know The Father got him first. Poor bastard. I will make sure I can put what he taught me to use.

Patient 0 is a charitable girl. She’s well known at local soup kitchens and charity races. So it’s no surprise that if someone offered her a piece of candy she would be willing to take it, even if only to help the other person feel good. She’s only 15 so I can’t tell how long she will last before she dies, but I fear it isn’t long. I hope she lasts long enough to get a visit. I haven’t even bothered to question her because quite frankly she’s a dead girl.

Oh dear, it seems The Father has put me a little on edge. My humanity is failing, and I don’t care. My goal is to get rid of The Father. No more, no less. My goal is to help those who can be helped. When he comes, I’ll be ready.

** * **

Police Report
Officer Mack

Seems the victim has been suffering these last few weeks. He’s been suffering from paranoia and was beginning to show signs of dementia. All the same, the poor old man took the leap. It wasn’t to far of a fall given perspective, only three stories. He could have gone higher than jumping from his office window. But it did the trick. We investigated his office to see if we could find a cause. We   found it all right. Right in the center of his desk actually, nice and neat in a tidy little envelope. Inside were two things. A letter, and a drawing. The letter read as follows:

“Father has allowed me two things.

The first is the right to write this letter. The second is a choice, live with him in happiness with my brothers and sisters. Or die alone. The purpose of this letter is the same as any suicide note. To explain the why. In my folders are files on three patients (1970, 2354, and 0) all of whom their stories will explain my death.

I was not ready. The Father did appear, but in the form of the guard whom had died to give me the info I needed. I had not been expecting anything so straight forward. Few people had watched the news that morning, with little or no time to do so, no one questioned his existance here. Except me. When he showed up to visit his “niece” I pulled him into my office. He was not pleased at this and screamed at me. The horror was that any sound that came from his mouth was simply a cacophany of childrens laughter. I quickly apologized and my politeness seemed to calm him down. I offered  him a seat and I sat in my chair. I stared him in the eyes for what seemed like days, but were simply five ticks of my old grand father clock. I questioned in my mind how many people he had lead astray. After our moment of silence I told him I knew what he was and what he had done. He simply nodded and pulled a small bag out of his pocket. He offered me a piece of his licorice with a toothy smile on his face, the face of my friend. He was the beast that destoyed his current bodies home, so in the enclosed space of my office, I didn’t stand a chance to run. I made demands first. The rights I stated at the beginning. He simply nodded and held the piece of licorice closer to me. I nodded and grabbed it. I hesitated at first before popping the candy in my mouth. It tasted no different than regular candy.

But it’s effect was revolutionary. I saw Father for what he truely is. A beautiful creature, a creature far superior to humans. He is the one who has come to take what makes us destroy away from us.

But he won’t get me. My humanity is mine and mine alone. So after this is sealed I going to jump out the window Father has opened behind me, preparing for my choice. The image I’ve tucked in with this is what was given to me by the guard. It is truely beautiful to see Father for what he is. I have crossed the gate and must say farewell, I hope you never have to.”

Credit To: Corian Wornen

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Kissie Sykes

December 9, 2012 at 12:00 AM
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September 14th

My doctor suggested I start keeping a journal in order to organize my thoughts. Said it would help reduce stress, and god knows I need that. I don’t even know what to write, I’ve never done the journal thing before but I guess I’ll start simple.

My name is Milo Stokes, I’m a corporal in the U.S. Marines stationed at Cherry Point North Carolina. Almost a year ago my wife left me after 4 years, said she couldn’t take this lifestyle anymore.

Can’t say I blame her though, if I had a way out I’d take it too, This place is a fucking hole.

But I don’t.

September 23rd

It’s been a little while since my first entry (What can I say, this shit’s new to me) though I’ll admit writing whatever I happen to be thinking is sort of liberating.

As of right now, nothing new to report. Same old bullshit at work, drinking every night, screaming at the walls… you know… normal stuff.

September 26th

Okay, so I’m really hoping my own fucking journal isn’t gonna judge me here, but I’ve always been kind of afraid of the dark.

Not the dark itself, but the prospect of what may be in it.

The unknown.

And don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t mean at all that I avoid it. On the contrary I’m sort of a thrill seeker and get a rise out of scaring the shit out of myself. Mary (My ex, by the way) and I used to hang out in graveyards at night (Kinda weird, I know) taking pictures, just in the hope that we WOULD find something. And her? Man, she would see shit all the time.

Especially here, in this house.

One night shortly after we had moved in I was in the living room watching TV while she had headed to bed. After a while I heard some loud movement and she shouted my name. I rushed over and into the bedroom to find her sitting up in bed, blankets up to her chin, staring wide eyed at one particular spot in the room.

She explained that she was falling asleep when she heard a sound, something like a knee cracking, coming from the direction of the closet. She looked over to see a man in uniform staring at her from the closet doorway. Well, not staring at her she elaborated, more staring through her. She had glanced at the bedroom door when calling my name and when she looked back, the man was gone.

The next day she described him to me. Going on google I searched the specifics of his uniform and found it was a marine corps service uniform from the WWI era.

She saw him a few more times. Once just standing in the hallway, staring through her. Nothing particularly threatening, he was just kind of… there, watching.

September 27th

Fell asleep typing last night, never finished the entry.

Woke up late for work, got bitched at, the usual. So anyway, after she started seeing this guy, we would do like we saw on the paranormal shows and set up a recorder to see if we could catch any strange sounds or voices digitally. We met with some success, we got a few weird sounds as well as some moderately audible voices.

Every time it would be a deep man’s voice, sort of what we expected. Throughout the time we did this we got some that were memorable, such as “He’s not a bad boy” which I could only assume referred to our newly bought beagle puppy, Dayton. “It’s so cold here” Is another one we could make out, deep and raspy. Again, not altogether surprising as we had a habit of keeping the AC lower than most people would find comfortable year-round. But the one that stuck out, and haunts me to this day, happened probably a few months before we split. I was still recording mostly out of habit when one day I heard “We won’t always be here” the next few lines were hard to make out, but it definitely ended with “Protect you”

I still wonder what he meant by: “Protect you”

September 29th

So in relation to my last entry, the voices on the recording stopped altogether when she left. I literally heard nothing, not even the static that used to permeate the spaces in between the messages he would leave us. But recently strange things have been happening around the house. I’ll see what looks like children playing outside the windows, but when I go to check, there’s nothing there.

Probably just the nerves, gonna finish this drink then head to bed.

October 1st

Alright, I was on duty at the barracks last night and some weird shit went down. I let my A-duty take the first sleeping post, and in those few hours I was totally alone in the duty hut, no one went in or out. So tell me why I found a fucking ragdoll just sitting in the middle of the passageway just outside. All of the marines that live here are at least 17 and up, who the hell would own a ragdoll? And who would leave it just lying in the middle of the hall…? staring at me…

October 2nd

I’m having a hard time typing this as my hands are shaking pretty badly. All these recent incidents going on lately have been of a totally different manner than the ones I’m used to.
No strange but accurate observations on the state of the house.
No still, harmless specters standing in the halls and closet.
I’ve been hearing voices, without the recordings now.
Kids voices.
And occasionally I’ll here the voice of an older woman, and then everything will stop.

Dead silence.

This all reminded me of the time we started looking for info on our uniformed ghost. Looking up the legends and ghost stories that Cherry Point has gathered over the years since it’s construction.
We didn’t find anything on our WWI marine.

This is what we did find:

“Havelock, Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point.
It is said the ghost of Kissie Sykes haunts the flight line and the housing looking for her children. She does not like men, and the men who yell at kids are in big trouble. There is a story of a young Lcpl on post was found the next morning, huddled in a ball in the corner of the guard shack crying; “she wants her kids… she wants her kids”. In the housing you can hear children playing, and from personal experience Kissy herself appears in childrens’ bedrooms after they are put to bed. Toys in the childrens’ rooms are moved when they aren’t even there. There are many different stories as to Kissy’s origin, but the most common theme is that she and her children were abused and murdered by her husband who had returned from the war suffering from shellshock (Now known as post-traumatic stress disorder). She and her children were buried together on base, but upon construction of the current flightline, half of the graveyard was relocated to another section of the installation. Separated from the graves of her children, she now searches for them, taking vengeance on men who have mistreated their families.”

Being the graveyard rats we were, we set out not long after to learn what we could about Kissie Sykes.
We found her grave on one side of the flightline, and just as the website described, on the other side there were several smaller graves. Some bearing only a first name, most without any dates.

And suddenly, the only thing I hear in the ears of my mind are that last recording I got from our uniformed guardian.

“We won’t always be here… protect you.”

The lights just cut out. Except for the light of my computer screen the entire house is pitch black.


Police Report, October 4th

After missing an entire workday, Corporal Milo Stokes was reported missing by his platoon. PMO was immediately dispatched to his residence to investigate, and soon found him dead sitting at his computer desk. The cause of death has not yet been clearly determined, however the rate of suicide within the Marine Corps is currently the highest in the nation. Upon investigation, it has been speculated that Corporal Stokes took his own life in a manner yet to be determined, in response to increasing workplace pressures, an alcoholic tendency, and his pending divorce.

End of Report.

Credit To: John

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That’s It

December 8, 2012 at 12:00 PM
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One day, there was this girl, let’s call her Anna. In her hands, Anna held a handful of all kinds of pills. As she stared at them, she was thinking about all of the pain and suffering she has endured throughout her 17 years of life. She looks up into the mirror, stares at herself, and starts thinking. She has been picked on for as long as she could remember and she couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted to end her own life so she would no longer be bullied. No more life, no more suffering, and she was angry. Why does she have to end her own life to find peace? Why is she effected but they weren’t? Sobbing, she looked back down on her hands, staring into the pills once more. She whispers to herself, “That’s it.”

Anna always minded her own business. She was nerd and was one of those kids who were really into bugs and collecting things that most people didn’t care about. She had frizzy hair, thick glasses, acne, you know the type. Everybody knows somebody who’s somewhat like that. Anna was pushed, shoved, embarrassed, fooled so many times and even raped. She had ‘friends’ that would talk to her, but later found out that those same friends were telling her secrets to everyone else. The people that she has trusted have been deceiving her too. She felt as if she had nothing to live for.

So what happened to Anna? She’s sitting down on her couch with the same pills she had before. As she pulls off the knife from the throat of one of her bullies, she grabs her notebook and checks off a name. She stares into her notebook and swallows her pills. “That’s it.”

Credit To: Ismael Fredrick Lapus Zuniga

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Guests In Our Home

December 7, 2012 at 12:00 PM
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I love how my Grandfather is always around to keep me company. On days that my Mom isn’t around, Grandpa is always nearby to comfort me. I sit on his lap, tell him stories about my day, and I never feel like I’m alone. Although our house is never empty even when Mom leaves for work, and I sit with Grandpa and read stories while he enjoys his chair, we always have guests in every room of our house.

There’s Edna and Elma the twins my Grandfather is friends with, they’re always sitting together in the kitchen with a teapot between just the two of them. There is also Joseph the plumber who went to school with Dad. Often seated with him in his study as dad is hunched over his desk, with a grin on his face, always looking at their High school yearbook while Joseph keeps him company as old friends should. Unless Mom needs to use a spare chair, then Joseph just stands next to Dad as he looks at his yearbook.

Then we have our younger guests like Beth and Tomas, who are around my age. Often upstairs when they aren’t playing with me. However I don’t really care if Tomas stays up there with his Mom and Dad, he never talks to me, and always makes a stupid face at me when I try and play with him. But Beth is really nice, she has pretty blonde curls in her hair, wears pretty perfumes and makeup, and sometimes Mom buys new dresses for her to wear. I’m sure she likes those, because she always has a smile on her face, even when I accidentally asked Mom how she got the ugly scar on her back. I felt bad when Mom told me that she had gotten the scar when she came here and was separated from her parents, who Mom says were very bad people. So I guess that makes her like the sister I never had, but I just like playing games with her when I’m bored. But Mom often scolds me if I get Beth’s dresses dirty, or accidentally knock her down.

Tonight my Mom says we’ll be having another guest, and a new friend for me to play with! Hopefully his family can come too! But Mom says that it’s hard to get an entire family like Tomas’ to come and stay in our home. So before she leaves for work, she tells me she’ll be home by Midnight. She gives me a kiss on the cheek, packs up her tools, and tells me to go make some space in Beth’s room for the new boy to stay. It’s the last time I talk to Mom before she leaves for work, and I go upstairs to get the bedroom ready. It takes me awhile, and by the time I’m done I don’t want to play with Beth like I usually do. So I grab a storybook from Beth’s shelf, and go downstairs to the living room. As always Grandpa is there, sitting in his rocking chair, waiting for me to come sit in his lap and tell him how my day went.

So I climb up into his lap, and snuggle against him as I tell him about our new guest. But I notice something’s wrong. His head is limp to one side, and his eye’s are closed. So I hop off his lap, and go into the kitchen as fast as I can. I run past  Edna and Elma, and immediately go for the bottom drawer next to the silverware where we keep Grandfather’s emergency supplies. I go back into the living room, stopping at the doorway to remember my manners, and I say “Good evening” to Edna and Elma before I go back to Grandpa. Carrying the supplies in my arms, I drop them behind Grandpa’s chair and look up at his neck. “Grandpa, your stitches came out again! It’ll take me forever to fix your neck like last time!…hmph…if only Mom had sewn you shut with a machine and used beads to stuff you like she did to Beth, instead of that flimsy cotton. Then you wouldn’t be falling apart all the time!”.

But I’m not upset with him, it’s not his fault. Mommy was only learning when she first brought him over as a guest. We’d only just moved into the neighborhood, and she had wanted to make sure that we’d never have to be lonely ever again. But of course now our guests can sit straight and never fall over, and Mom says that someday she’ll be sitting next to Grandfather while I’m out bringing new guests to keep us company.

Credit To: SteewpidZombie

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The Promise

December 1, 2012 at 12:00 PM
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A young couple were out driving through the woods late one night, down a narrow road surrounded by tall trees. The boyfriend was behind the wheel, when he suddenly looked uneasy and pulled the car over to the side of the road. He undid his seat belt and looked at his girlfriend.

“I have to do something, and I need you to promise me, whatever happens, you do not leave this car,” he said.

“What do you mean!?” she panicked. “Why are you getting out? Why can’t I come with you?”

He didn’t reply at first, but simply opened his door and got out, only before stopping to stare at her one last time. “Look, don’t worry, there’s nothing to be afraid of, just please promise me no matter what happens, you will NOT leave the car.”

“I promise.” She gulped. “But how long will you b-” He closed the door, leaving her there alone in the dark.

After 10 minutes, he still wasn’t back. She grew impatient and began fidgeting, as she tried to rationalize her thoughts. He had been acting so weird lately as if he was hiding something… always checking if they were alone, always asking exactly where she went, and now he goes and does this!? She began to wonder if she could really trust him.

Another 15 minutes passed and he still wasn’t back. She tried calling him, but he didn’t answer. She began to fill with worry. She undid her seat belt and wound down her window slightly to allow the cold breeze to roll in and help relieve her anxiety. Suddenly, through the open window, she began to hear a faint whimpering noise coming from deep in the dark woods. It sounded like someone in pain…

She thought for a moment about what she had promised her boyfriend, but decided to act on her gut instinct. After all he might’ve been hurt and needed help, and she wasn’t going to just sit there and let him die. She got out, and slowly built up the courage to creep between the trunks of the first two large trees and into the woods. “Hello?” she kept calling out, praying to hear her boyfriends reply.

She followed the whimpering sound for a few minutes, until she could no longer see the car headlights on the road. She was completely engulfed in the darkness of the woods, when finally she could see the source of the noise. There was a man tied up to the base of a tree with his head hung down, whimpering. The man looked somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. He saw the girl and sat up in excitement and began pleading with her. “Your boyfriend is in danger!! Please untie me! They’ve got me and him trapped. Thank god you’re here, let me free so I can go save him!”

Simply hearing her boyfriend was in danger was enough, as she hesitantly untied the man who rose slowly to his feet and raised his menacing eyes to look at her. She knew she had seen this man somewhere before,  as his face contorted with a look of insanity, and a wicked smile grew across his cheeks as he ran off into the darkness.

Confused at what had just happened, and growing in dread, she slowly backtracked towards the car. Where was her boyfriend? Who was that man? Was he going to help her boyfriend? Why did he look so evil?

Suddenly her phone rang. It was her boyfriend, he seemed out of breath but was sounding safe and alive. “Look babe, everything’s going to be alright now.” He panted, “I couldn’t tell you before because it would have frightened you too much. You see, I’ve noticed that a man has been stalking you these last few weeks, and I mean a completely obsessive freak. He’s followed you everywhere. He’s been growing confident and has been getting closer too – a bit too close, I’ve been afraid of what he might do soon. So just today, I hid some rope and a knife out here in the woods. I knew if I came out with you he would follow, and sure enough I saw him running along in the darkness behind the car tonight. But its OK! I caught him and tied him up.”

She slowly turned numb as her mind processed the words in disbelief as they flowed into her ear.

He continued, “I think he’s been trying to get you for weeks, but he’s never had the chance. Thats why I’ve been making sure you’ve always stayed in public places for safety. I guess he thought tonight was it, but I outsmarted him babe! We’re going to be fine now! I just went to hide the knife then and we’ll call the police to come and take him soon. Sorry I took so long, is it cold in the car?”

She felt nothing. She stood there motionless and couldn’t move or talk.

“Babe? I’m coming back now. You’re still in the car right?”

She began hyperventilating. “I-I-I I’m so sorry, I-” but it was too late. She was cut off by the swift sound of a knife slicing through skin on the other end of the line, and the gasps of someone painfully choking to death. This was followed by a splattering sound that continued for a long time. She had just heard her boyfriend being murdered.

She was hysterical in her tears and thoughts, as she dropped the phone and frantically stumbled back towards the car like a disorientated zombie. She managed to open the door with her trembling hands as she crawled back into the safety of the vehicle and locked the doors. That’s when she realised she didn’t have the keys.

Credit To: Jack

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November 28, 2012 at 12:00 PM
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My friends and I had just left a party at a local bar, and we were walking back to my house, seeing how it wasn’t too far away from where we were. On our way back, we happened to come across a small lot sandwiched between two apartment buildings that was filled with black garbage bags and piles of tires. Rich proposed going in, and after a few minutes of consideration, Dennis and I agreed. Obviously, there’s nothing special, or fun, about a rotten-smelling junkyard, but we were a bit drunk, so the idea seemed great at the time. We decided to play a game called “King of the Hill” on the fort of tires that stood before us. Basically, we were just pushing each other off of the top. After a while of climbing up, and falling down, a pile of tires in an idiotic attempt of having fun, we took a break by sitting against one of the dumpsters that stood near the entrance. As I tried to get a hold of my breath, I gazed around the small dump, and noticed something I failed to spot out before.

There was a white grocery bag hanging from the fence in the back corner of the junkyard. I figured that someone tried to throw it over, but it got caught on the fence on its way down.The bag seemed to be filled with something. It had blocky edges poking out from all sides. I know something as plain as a grocery bag isn’t much, but it still intrigued me.

“Hey,” I said as I nudged Rich, who happened to be sitting next to me,”Look over there.”Dennis leaned out behind Rich, and looked towards where I was pointing.
“So, it’s just a few rips. No one’s gonna care about whether or not the bags are torn.” Said Rich. He was pointing out the tears our shoes had left in the trash bags when we played our little game.
“No, the grocery bag hanging from the fence.” I said,
“Well, it’s filled with something.”
“And?” Said Dennis. I shrugged,
“Don’t you guys wanna know what’s inside?”
“No,” Rich chuckled, “It’s just trash, man.”
“What if it was something like jewelry?” I said as I stood, and made my way towards the grocery bag.
“You’re just gonna find a dead cat in there, dude!” Dennis hollered as I struggled to climb the mound of garbage bags that blocked my path. His sentence was followed by the two of them laughing. I didn’t really care what they had to say. I was just a bit curious, that’s all.
Once I made it to the other side, I reached for the grocery bag and grabbed it. Inside of it was a whole bunch of cassette tapes, and an old Walkman.
“No way, you guys gotta see this.” I called to my friends,
“Did you find the leprechaun’s gold?” Rich mocked,
“Hold on, I’m coming.” Hastily, I climbed the pile of trash and walked back to where they were sitting.
“Look at this.” I held the bag open, letting Rich and Dennis view it’s contents. I pulled out a tape and read it’s label,
“Journal entry one,” I pulled out another, ” Entry three.” I read,
“No way, it’s someone’s diary.” Said Dennis.
“I wonder why they threw it away.” I said,
“Probably because they realized how stupid they were for keeping a diary.” Said Rich.
“Whatever,” I dropped the bag on the ground,” It’s one in the morining, we should be heading back.”
“Woah woah woah,” Said Dennis, as he snatched the bag up from the pavement,” What the hell are you doing, man? Don’t you guys wanna listen to these?”
“Well, it could be a bit funny.” Said Rich
“Journal entry one,” Started Dennis in a stereotypical british voice,” I walked my dog, BonBon, today at the park and came a across a rather odd squirrel.”
I laughed, “Dennis, you’re such an ass. Fine, lets take them with us.”
We left the junkyard, and continued to walk down the street towards my house. I remember how excited I was to listen to those tapes. Stupid, I know, but the thought of listening to someone’s personal life sounded interesting to me.
Once we arrived at my house, I unlocked the door, and immediately walked towards the dining room. Dennis set the bag down in the center of the table and pulled out the Walkman, as three of us grabbed ourselves a seat. Eager to hear what it had to say, I siezed the first tape, put it in, and pressed play. I was suprised at what I heard. The voice wasn’t at all what I expected. It seemed to be a boy who sounded as if he was in his late teens.

Hey, my name’s Chris, and I’m a Junior in highschool. I don’t have many friends, actually, I have none. I guess it’s just because people don’t like me, or maybe because I’m just too weird. I’m not weird, am I? Anyways, that’s not why I’m here. It’s actually because my uncle gave me this Walkman and a few tapes. He said that the Walkman used to be his, and that he just didn’t have the heart to throw it away, because he used it so much as a kid. So he made it my birthday present. Well, I didn’t have the heart to let it catch dust in the corner, so here I am, using it. Maybe it’ll come in handy one day, I don’t really know. Should I go on with telling about myself? Well, my favorite class is science, and I’m extremely bad at math. Blue is my favorite color, and I prefer dogs over cats.

A door slams in the background, causing all of us to jump.

That was my mom. Her and my dad have been arguing alot lately for reasons I can’t even bother to figure out why. I know for one thing that my dad is thinking about calling a divorce, which doesn’t really bother me. It would bother anyone else, though, but it doesn’t bother me. That’s not weird right? I’ve been hearing alot lately that I’m a little ‘weird’. I don’t see why, though. I eat, drink, sleep, and live like a normal human being. That’s what I think, anyways. Maybe it’s just because I’m not as talkative as everyone else, or what if everyone was just making it up, so that they would have a reason to pick on me. Frankly, I can’t see why anyone would want to pick on me in the first place.

“What a loser,” Said Dennis, “I can see why people want to pick on him”. I shrugged,
“Let’s just play the next one.”

It’s January 14th, which is three days since I’ve made the last tape. I decided that I’m going to continue making tapes, and keep it as my journal. Who knows, maybe I’ll look back at these old recordings one day when I’m a bit older for a small dose of nostalgia. I’m making this a short one, because I have to leave in about five minutes. My mom’s taking me to some stupid jewelry party at one of our neighbor’s house because, according to her, I absolutely have to be there, or we’ll make a bad impression . So here I am, sitting in dress pants, a white button up, and a stupid tie. I don’t have dress shoes, so I just wore an old pair of Nike sneakers, which makes this situation about five hundred times worse. Maybe in the next tape I’ll talk about how the party went, hopefully it went well enough for me to talk about it.

We looked at eachother and laughed.
“Nike sneakers.” Rich muttered in an almost giggly tone.
“Should I seriously play the next one? I’m not sure if I can handle listening to this for another ten tapes.” I asked. Dennis and Rich nodded with giant grins on their faces.

January 16th, I was punched in the face at school today by a senior whose name is Jake. Honestly, I don’t even know the guy. To make my day even more wonderful, I ended up eating outside in the rain, because all the seats in the cafeteria were taken by the time I got back from the nurse’s office. I could’ve simply cleaned up the blood pouring from my nose by myself in the bathroom, but one of my teachers, Ms. Hoffington, insisted that I go see the nurse. While I was at the nurse, I managed to get a glimpse of myself when I passed the tall mirror that hung on the outside of the bathroom door. I was a bit amazed at the amount of blood that was smudged across my face. Actually, it was kinda cool. I felt a small amount of pride when I got a good look at my face. Probably because I’ve never actually spilt that much blood in my life before. Jake got suspended by the way. For a week to be exact. I think he should be expelled, so that I didn’t have to see him again. Oh yeah, and, uh,by the way, the jewelry party went well. No one noticed my Nike sneakers, and the food was good.

A small amount of shock appeared on our faces. “Damn, he got punched in the face.” I said,
“Well it serves him right. Someone must’ve known he was making stupid ass tapes in his bedroom.” Said Dennis,
“How can you even be happy about getting a bloody nose?” Rich added, ” What the hell is wrong with him?”
I shook my head,” I don’t know, man.”

January 20th, While fooling around on YouTube for about two hours, I came across a weird documentary on something called the ‘Slenderman’. It’s an odd creature with no face, wearing what looks to be a suit, that has tentacles, giving it a dark, spidery look. It’s said to lurk in forests, and that once you see it, it stalks you before actually claiming you as its victim. No one really knows what the Slenderman actually does to his, or its, victims, and that all we really know is that they go missing without a trace. I guess alot of people are creeped out about this, and I can see why. The photos that depict him look pretty disturbing, but what actually generates the most fear are the stories about him. Actually, I’ve been listening to them all night, and I’m not scared at all, just intruiged. Turns out, these stories come from a site where people just write, and submit a whole bunch of creepy stories, and not all of them about the Slenderman. I’ve heard a couple that talk about lost episodes of famous Tv shows that depict some disturbing, twisted version of the actual show. I’ve also heard stories about serial killers, ghosts, and whatever else that’s remotely scary. Some are more gruesome, while others are just a bit eerie. I, for one, have never found any of these stories to be scary. I usually find myself thouroughly mystified as I read.

We all glanced at eachother, a bit confused about what the Slenderman is. I guess the kid was a horror fan. I put in the next tape, and held my head in my hands, wanting to go to sleep.

January 26th, Did I ever mention the site where I found all these stories from? It’s called Yes, I realize that it’s an odd name because an Italian dish is in no way creepy, but if you’re interested, check it out. You know, now that I think about it, these stories have showed me how much darkness can exist in this world. You’re never actually aware of it until you start thinking about it. What I’m saying is not crazy, it’s true. Darkness lurks in the hidden corners of everyday life. Right here, right now as I’m saying this, a person is getting brutally murdered.

Immediately after he said that sentence, my head shot up and I looked at Dennis and Rich, bewildered at what I just heard. They shook their heads and shrugged.

Somewhere out there a person is dying. Could be a full grown man, or a child. You never realized it until you heard me say it just now. But, hey, that’s the real world for you. Lately, I’ve been noticing how everyone else at my school is so blissfully ignorant to the horrible things in this world, while I’m being constantly reminded of it. No one sees what I see. It kinda makes them all look a little bit dumb. Don’t they see? Don’t they notice what happens around them? They hear sirens echo down the road, and it could just be a plain car crash, but what if it was caused by something far from our reach? They don’t know that. Their eyes aren’t opened wide enough to notice. At least I’m aware of it.

February 2nd, Have you ever noticed how much death is involved in an average creepypasta. It’s almost as if death is a needed element in the story. You know, ever since I started reading these stories, I’ve become pretty comfortable with the thought of dying. Sometimes, I laugh at those poor, poor people in those stories. I guess they haven’t realized how much of a friend death could be, even when pain is the price you have to pay for meeting him. After all, aren’t we all going to face it one day? Sooner for some people, later for the rest.

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

I’ve been thinking about writing my own creepypasta soon. After reading everyone else’s, I figured I should try it for myself. It’s worth a shot isn’t it? I think I’m going to write one about the Slenderman, or maybe Jeff…Or maybe I’ll write a story about a man who goes crazy, and starts killing everyone he knows… That sounds like a wonderful idea.

February 17th, They didn’t accept my story. What was wrong with it? Was my grammer off? Was the spelling bad? All I wanted was for it to be out there for everyone to see. Hell, it was probably one of the greatest ideas they ever came across, but…

He voice became angrier and a bit frustrated, almost as if he was about to go off on a full blown rant.

But they turned it down. Are they too stupid to see the brilliance in what I wrote? On top of that, I found two assholes who decided to read it, and make a mockery of my hard work. Idiots, they’re just a bunch of idiots who can’t see the genius in one’s work.

A loud scream erupted from the speakers of the Walkman, and a hard thud was heard soon after. I figured that he had just thrown it out of anger. I wonder what his story sounded like, and why they turned it down. The next tape started, and we immediatly realized how angry he was. He spoke in a loud, irratable tone, which was almost terrifying.

February 22nd, Stupid people. Stupid, stupid people. They should all rot in Hell for all I care. I shouldn’t have to deal with them everyday. Once I walk through that school’s front door, I’m surrounded by them. My teacher gave me a detention for not paying attention in class. Why should I? We’re all going to die. We’re all going to die someday, and there’s nothing we can do about it, but no one around me is smart enough to see that. Why? Why can’t they just open their eyes, and pay attention to the horrible world around us? They’re too preoccupied with their lives, and what comes tomorrow, instead of what comes at the very end. Did I tell you that I was pushed down the stairs today? Ben Trinner. He did it, and this time, I’m not letting it go. I’m going to find him, and he’s going to pay. You might be wondering how I’m going to get out of the house without my parents seeing me. It’s okay, they’re already gone. Dad’s still at work, and Mom-

There was a short pause, and a slight chuckle arose from his voice.

Mom’s taken care of. He’ll find her when he gets home, and I’m not coming back. I don’t have to deal with them anymore.
“What, what did he mean by ‘Mom’s taken care of?’” Asked Dennis in a hushed tone.
“Do you think-”
“No,” Rich cut me off, “There’s no way in Hell that little fucker did that. Play the next one.”
I obliged and put in the next tape, a little scared of what I may hear.

February 24th, I found an old warehouse in the outskirts of the town, and I’ve decided that that’s where I’ll be living from now on. The lights still work in the rooms where they’re not broken, and the boarded windows keep out most of the rain. It’s not that bad of a place, really. I stole all the money from my mom’s wallet, so food is already taken care of. In one of the rooms of the warehouse, I found a really old Tv. It’s a black and white one, and it uses a dial to change the stations. The reception’s a little bad, but I could still make out what’s happening behind all the static and whitenoise. I decided to change it to the news channel, and I was greeted with a picture of my mom.

A loud, almost evil, laugh echoed from the speakers, which goes on for a few minutes.

They think I’m dead, which is good on my end, because they won’t bother searching for me. Oh, the glory I felt when they announced how she had been stabbed five times in the chest. It made me feel a little bit excited to know that I have done such a thing. It wasn’t easy, but it sure was satisfying in the end. And now I have to find Ben. He doesn’t know it yet, but tonight is his last one on Earth. Luckily for me, his house is a few blocks from here. It’s eleven at night right now, and I should be finished by one. Wish me luck.

I quickly put in the next tape, now a little bit more concerned with what was going on. Was he really going to kill that kid? It almost seems too real to just be a sick joke. But no matter how much I wanted to think it was just a joke, a frightening truth stood in the back of my mind, telling me that it was all true.

February 25th, I’ve never felt so happy before in my life. You can’t even imagine the butterflies I got when I saw him gurgling his own blood in a worthless attempt of fighting for his life, and no one heard a thing. I was able to open one of the first floor windows without a hitch, thank God. It took me about thirty minutes to walk up the stairs without making a noise. I had to be careful, for even the slightest of all noises can awake someone. When I got to his room, I was able to open the door without him waking up. And everything else that followed seemed to happen so quick, almost as if my memories of the event were a flip book. I quickly covered his mouth before I dragged the knife across his throat, severing his jugular. I wanted to laugh at his squirming body as he died, but I didn’t, out of fear of waking his parents. I pulled open his bedroom window, jumped out, and ran. I think I hurt something in my foot when I landed, but I didn’t care. All I could feel was the cold, bitter wind slicing across my smiling cheeks as I ran. I’m back at the warehouse now, and it’s 1:45 in the morning. I have the Tv switched to the news, waiting to hear about my newest accomplishment.

We all looked at eachother, still a bit traumitized from what we had just heard. An uneasy atmosphere hung in the room. He killed him, and no matter how much we didn’t want to believe it, we knew it was true. I hesitantly put the next tape in the socket, and pressed play. Immediatly, a loud, abrupt white noise blasted from the speakers, making us all almost fall out our seats. Even though that would be something we’d end up laughing about, no one broke a smirk. I grabbed the next tape and put it in, turning down the volume before I pressed play, fearing that there would be more static. I heard a faint voice, signaling me to turn the volume back up. This time, the kids voice sounded a bit huskier, pointing out that it has been year or two since his last tape.

January 17th, It’s been a while since I made one of these. Well, a few weeks ago I was kicked out of the warehouse. I had to move my location, since the police were planning to investigate the area on account of the recent murders.

He started to laugh again. The sound of it was almost sickening, and added a sense of dread to the atmosphere.

Seven, seven people have died since I’ve made my last tape, and each murder has become more gruesome and disturbing as the last. The last person’s eyes were gouged out, and their wrists broken. There was no rhyme or reason to why I did it. I did it simply because I HAD to. It’s just not enough. I need to kill. It’s the thing I find the most pleasure in. It’s even more fun to hear it announced to the public. Anyways, the police are investigating the area to find the body of another one of my victims. They suspected that it was the same killer as the last dozen, and they weren’t wrong. So, I’ve moved my location. I walked for quite a long time through the woods that bordered the southern part of my town, before I managed to enter the next town and take refuge there… It’s almost like those stories I took so much interest in. No, it’s exactly like those stories. What a dream to actually be part of my own Creepypasta, oh if only the rest of the world could hear about it.

The next tape was the strangest, and most horrifying that night. When I pressed play, all we could hear was static, but after a while we heard what sounded like screaming. There was a certain quality to it… It sounded panicked and strained, as if the poor person’s throat gave out from screaming too long.

January 22nd, You hear him. I know you do. That’s one of my newest… ideas. It makes me smile, seeing him beg and scream for help, knowing at this point nothing could save him. Why don’t you give up hope, my dear friend? You see, death is inevitable for you, and theres no escaping it now. But, hey, you shouldn’t have been walking around town so late. You know that there are terrors hiding in the corner every night, and that you should avoid them. But then you came across me.

He started to laugh again. The sound of it made me want to throw the Walkman at the wall, hoping to stop the evil laughter, but I knew I had to keep listening.

The best part is, he’s not even restrained. I broke his legs, making it impossible for him to walk. He should be proud to be the first one of my victims to die like this. I realized that every time I kill someone, I do it too quick, to the point where it’s not as… satisfying as I hope it would be. But by bringing him here, I’m able to see him struggle for his life before it actually ends.

Small bursts of static were heard, but even through all of that we could hear what was going on. We heard heavy, slow footsteps that faded away, as the distance between the Walkman and Chris grew. The screaming became louder, and more struggled. The sound of it alone made me want to puke. The screaming was then replaced with a horrible gurgling noise. Even through his blood filled throat, you can still hear him scream, begging for his life. I heard the familiar click and felt a bit relieved, but that quickly went away, as I realized that there was one more tape left.

February 5th, I have come up with the most wonderful idea yet. And it’s probably the best one. I figured that instead of just a slow and hesitant death, I’m going to let them rot and decay in their own fears. Should I tell you what it is?….It’s a surprise, and I would hate to spoil it.

The last tape clicked and we all looked at eachother with a grim look on our faces. We knew what we had just witnessed in the past ten minutes, but none of us wanted to acknowledge it, or believe it was real. After sitting in silence for what seemed like about twenty minutes, I spoke up,

“What do you think the suprise is?”
Rich abruptly sat up and pushed in his chair,
“I don’t know, man, and I don’t want to know,” His voice had an uneasy feel to it. It almost sounded as if he were a bit frustrated, “I’m leaving. I don’t want to take part in anymore of this.”
I stopped him,”Wait, you can’t go. What are we going to with the tapes?”
“Fucking burn them. Get rid of them. Pretend it didn’t happen. I’m leaving,” Said Rich
“Dude, calm down. We have to figure this out. We have to know who he is. He could still be out there.” I said. Dennis cut in,
“We should hand them over to the police. Maybe they could do something,”
“Really? And you know what else the police would do if we give these to them? Fucking nothing. We gotta figure this out on our own,”
“Oh yeah?” Started Dennis, “You wanna solve this big mystery? I know you want to know who he is, but you shouldn’t try messing with something that could kill you,”
“Sure, he might kill me, but he also might kill a shitload of other people. We have to figure out where this fucker is.”
“You’re not some kind of hero, Jake. I wouldn’t bother messing with it.” Said Rich
“I’m not trying to be a hero. What do you guys think I’m gonna do? Walk outside with a flashlight, and call his name like a lost dog? All I want to do is some research, that’s all.” We stood in an uneasy silence for a moment.
“Why were those tapes hanging on the fence in the first place?” Asked Dennis. He was right. Why were they hanging on the fence?
“Do you think someone had already found them and was trying to get rid of them?” I asked.
“Look guys,” Said Rich,” It’s, like, three in the morning. We’re all a bit tired, and we’re all a bit confused, so trying to figure this out now would be useless.” Dennis and I looked at eachother and nodded a bit sheepishly, realizing how true the statement was. Rich started to walk towards the door, and Dennis followed him soon after.

“I’ll catch up with you later, Jake.” Said Rich as he opened the door, making his way out. Dennis waved a goodbye at me and shut the door behind him. The sound of the door clicking shut gave me a sense of finality, and the silence that followed afterwards was almost sickening. I walked into the living room, and turned on the tv, hoping to uplift the heavy atmosphere the tapes have caused. I grabbed my laptop, sat on the couch, and turned it on. While it was starting up, I looked into the dining room, staring at the cassette tapes and walkman that still sat on the table until I heard the Windows 7 start up sound call for my attention. I immediatly opened up Google and searched for murders and deaths in this area, but nothing came close to what Chris had described. I tried looking for the school he went to, hoping I would get some clues, but that didn’t work either. I sat for a second, staring at the Google search bar, until I came across an idea. I clicked on the URL box and typed in ‘’

A site with a black background and white text came up, with the simple heading “”. I scrolled through the page, and read some stories and announcements.

“This is what he was obsessed over?” I muttered to myself. Sure, some of these stories are kinda scary, but it certainly wasn’t anything that can drive someone to kill. How long has this site even been up? It doesn’t seem that old. This was probably around since my Senior year. I shut down the laptop and turned off the tv. After I got up, I walked into the dining room, and shoved all the tapes back into the bag. I decided that I would hand the tapes over to the authorities the next morning.

I barely went to sleep that night, because I was still shooken up over what I had witnessed earlier. And as I layed in bed…it almost seemed as if there was a presence, like someone besides myself was there. I quickly shrugged it off as my paranoid mind causing me to feel things that weren’t even there, and fell asleep soon after. When I awoke it was around twelve in the afternoon. I had slept late, which isn’t suprising, considering I went to bed at around five. I didn’t even bother to eat or brush my teeth after I got up. I just got dressed, grabbed the tapes, and got in the car. The tapes and Walkman were sitting in the passenger seat. They seemed to emit some uneasy feeling throughout the ride, which only made me more eager to get rid of them.

When I arrived at the police station, I quickly grabbed the tapes and entered the building. I didn’t even bother to turn the car off. The building’s lobbey was vacant, and the only person who was there was the cop sitting at the desk, sipping coffee and filling out paper work. I dropped the bag onto the counter, causing the man to look up from his work.

“Can I help you?” He said in a somewhat irratable tone.
“I-I think I solved a few dissapearances.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, and glanced towards the filled grocery bag that sat on his desk.
“Those?” He asked. I nodded quickly. He sighed, grabbed the bag, and put it on the floor next to him,
“Alright, I’ll present it to the authorities when I can.”
“Aren’t you the authorities?” I asked, a bit frustrated at how little he was concerned.
“Listen, I only hand out speed tickets and search for lost parents at the mall. But right now, I’m doing this here paperwork, and when I get the chance I’ll hand them over to authorities.” I nodded with some dissapointment and left, relieved that I didn’t have to be close to those tapes anymore.

Once I got home, I grabbed my mail and opened the front door. As I made my way into the living room, I tossed the stack of bills onto the table. I was suprised to hear something hard hit the wooden surface. When I looked back I noticed that the manilla folder that layed among the white envelopes wasn’t filled with sheets of paper, but a small object. A bit curious, I went back and opened it. I cringed when I saw what the folder had revealed.

Inside the folder was a small, black cassette tape labeled, “Entry 15.”

No, this wasn ‘t possible. It had to be Rich or Dennis. There is no way another tape was sent to me. We were the only ones who listened to them that night. And I was certain no one saw us, except for a few cars that passed when we were walking down the street.

I wanted to hear what the tape said, but I remembered I gave the walkman to the police. I searched my basement for a radio, anything, that I could play this tape in. I had to know what it said. Finally, after searching for what seemed like an hour, I came across a box in the basement that had a small cassette player inside. Hastily, I grabbed the dusty object from the box, and ran back up stairs. As soon as I reached the table, I put the tape inside the player and pressed play, hoping to hear that this tape and the other’s were just a sick joke one of my friends had planned out. But once I heard the voice, my stomach dropped, and I felt as if I were going to puke.

April 12th, Hello Jake what did you think about my game? It took me a while to get it ready, but it was all worth it. I knew your curious little mind wouldn’t be able to help itself. I’m surprised at how smoothly this all went out, actually. You and your friends barely noticed me when I put that bag on the fence. And you went and grabbed it, almost as if it was on cue…Are you still surprised, Jake? I’ve been keeping a close watch on you ever since I killed Ben, but I never actually carried out anything ’till now. I knew I had to save the best for last just for you. And now that I think about it, the waiting was all worth it. I’m shocked, Jake. You seem like you don’t even recognize me at all. Don’t you remember punching me in the face back in highschool?

I started to hear the sound of leaves shuffling. It sounded as if he were walking through the woods.

You guys look pretty scared over what you heard in that last tape. I can see it right through the window.
Once the tape had stopped, slowly and unwillingly, I looked towards the window on the south side of the dining room. There was nothing there except for the bushes that stood directly in front of the glass.Terrified, I ran towards the phone to call the cops. When I heard a voice on the other end, I jumped into a panic.
“Hello!” I desperately asked the phone. As I spoke, I patrolled the house, making sure that all of the windows and doors were locked.
“Oh, it’s you again,” Said the policeman I met earlier, “Listen, I told you I would get to it when I ca-”
“Someone’s after me. I just recieved another tape in my mail, and there were threats directed towards me on it, I think it’s the same person who made the tapes I gave you. He’s going to kill me.”
The officer spoke in a bored tone, “Well make sure that everything’s locked up, first,” He paused, “Now, are ya sure it’s not just one of your friends trying to mess with ya?”
“I’m absolutely sure it’s not one of my friends. Please, send someone out here.” I pleaded
“Sorry, but all you can do for now is to make sure that no one can get in. Just go up to your room and quietly read a book or something.” I slammed the phone back onto the hook. He’s not listening to me. I grabbed my laptop, and headed up to my room. I didn’t notice before, but I was the Jake Chris had mentioned in one of his tapes. And now he was back to get me, just like how he had killed Ben. I shut my door behind me and locked it, hoping it would serve as an extra layer of defense.

I decided that I would document what had happened to me, and submit it to creepypasta, so that it could serve as a warning to everyone out there. And that’s how I got to here, typing desperately on my laptop. I just heard some glass break downstairs, and I’m becoming more terrified by the second. I’m going to try to finish this up the best I can.

Please, for everyone’s sake, if you happen to have a “thing” for scary stories, don’t get too obsessed, or you may turn into what you originally have feared. If not, then watch out for those who are vulnerable to becoming the monster that Chris is.

Chris, honestly, I hope you’re happy. You have your own creepypasta, and you live in what you admire so much. You were right, the darkness in a simple scary story is more real than I thought.

Credit To: TVATR

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