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September 14, 2015 at 12:00 PM
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The phone rang. Phoebe looked at Heather confused, “Um, are you going to answer that?”

“Nah, don’t bother.” responded Heather, “It’s just going to be that annoying creep again.”

“Huh?” asked Phoebe, even more confused, “What creep?”

“Wait, I never told you about this guy?” She noticed the blank look on her friend’s face, which basically answered her question, “It’s just this guy who somehow got my number and has been leaving messages of him breathing heavily.”

“Oh my god!” exclaimed Phoebe, clearly startled, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. No need to worry about it, I’m sure he’ll stop calling eventually.”

Phoebe was about to continue the conversation, when the phone suddenly started ringing again. Heather’s only response was to sigh, but Phoebe grumpily began walking towards the phone.

“What are you doing?” yelled Heather, nervously.

“I’m going to stop this creep from calling you.”

“Don’t-“ started Heather, but Phoebe had already picked up the phone.

“What do you want?” she yelled into the phone.

“Who’s this?” a raspy voice responded from over the phone.

“I’m Heather’s friend and I want you to stop calling her!”

“Oh, you’re her friend,” said the voice, “then I’ll certainly stop calling then.” After that sentence was spoken, there was manic laughter over the phone. “Tell you what. If you open the front door, I’ll never call again.”

“Fine.” Phoebe stated as she slammed the phone down and she started walking toward the door.

Heather realized what Phoebe was doing and began to protest, “No please, don’t open the door!”

Phoebe rolled her eyes, “Chill, it’s not like he’s going to be there.” She opened the door and revealed the completely empty porch. “See. I told you that there would be no one here.” She closed the door and locked it. “Now that pervert won’t call-“

Before she could finish, a man leaped out from inside the closet beside the door and plunged a knife deep into her chest. Blood started flowing from where she had been stabbed; Heather started screaming and began running upstairs while she heard the sound of footsteps coming quickly behind her. Then everything went black.

Anne threw the remote over to the couch after pressing the power button and tried to ignore the glare that her best friend was giving her.

“Dude, why did you turn off the movie?” asked Chloe, “We were just getting to the best part.”

“Because these movies are so stupid.” Anne said as she rolled her eyes, “I mean, seriously, would you go and actually open the door?”

“Well, no.” Chloe admitted, “But if they didn’t do that, then this awesome movie would exist.”

“You and I have very different ideas of what’s awesome.” She started to get up to go to the kitchen when she realized that Chloe was still sitting on the couch, pouting. “Tell you what,” she sighed, “How about we get some snacks and then we can continue watching the rest of your silly movie.”

Chloe visibly perked up, “Alright, let’s see what we can get find.” She stood up and they both walked into the kitchen.

Anne decided to have what she insists as the ‘real movie experience’, grabbing a bag of popcorn and threw it in the microwave. As she waited for it to finish and for Chloe to finish scrounging around for something to eat, she decided to continue the conversation that they were having before.

“I honestly have no clue why you like these kinds of movie,” she said as she pointed at the cover of the movie that they were watching, “they’re either about some psycho stabbing teenagers or some demented doll forcing people to cut off their limbs.”

“Well, sure, some of these movies are total garbage, but that’s just like any genre.” Chloe responded, “If you dig enough, you’ll find those masterpieces that will scare the crap out of you.” Almost as if to prove her point, she grabbed a bag of pretzels that she had found in the back of the cupboards.

Anne shrugged, “I guess they just aren’t my cup of tea.” The microwave decided to pick that moment to beep, which made the both of them jump. Anne grabbed the bag out of the microwave and poured its contents into a bowl, contented with the smell of buttery popcorn, she began to head out of the kitchen along with Chloe.

Chloe continued to walk a few steps, but quickly realized that Anne was no longer beside her. She turned around to find Anne standing in the doorway of the now-darkened kitchen.

“Hey Anne, everything okay?” asked Chloe, worried about her friend.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She replied, “I just thought that I heard something.”

Chloe started laughing, “Wait a minute, Anne Douglass, are you trying to scare me?”

“No, I’m not.” She said gravelly, “I swear I heard something.”

“Must have been the wind,” Chloe shrugged, “or maybe that movie did actually scare you.”

“That movie scare me?” Anne said defiantly, trying to pretend that she didn’t see the smirk on her friend’s face, “No way something like that would ever scare me.”

“Well, let’s get back to the movie that totally isn’t scaring you.” She replied with a joking tone in her voice.

Chloe had started to turn back around toward the living room when she saw what looked like a black glove wrap around Anne’s ankle. Before she could yell to warn her, Anne was yanked backwards into the kitchen, making the bowl fly out of her hand and spill the popcorn everywhere.

Anne started screaming and tried to get a hold on something, but all that she ended up doing was leaving nail marks on the wooden floor. Chloe ran up the stairs and into her bedroom, locking the door behind her. She sat on her bed, terrified and unsure of what to do next.

Her cell was still downstairs and there was no phone upstairs, so she had no way to call the police. She was trying to keep her thoughts focused on surviving instead of panicking, when she heard the sound of footsteps slowly going up the stairs. She started to panic and grabbed the baseball bat that she kept under her bed for protection.

“Stay back!” she yelled, “I-I have a gun!”

She was hoping that this thing would take her bluff, when she heard a knock on the door. She tightened her grip on the bat, when she heard a familiar voice.

“Chloe? Are you okay?”

“Anne, is that you?” asked Chloe, unsure of what was going on.

“Yes, it’s me.” Anne responded, “I’m sorry, I was trying to scare you, I guess I went too far.”

“Y’think!” Chloe yelled angrily, she started to head toward the door when she thought of something, “Wait, what about the glove?”

“Huh? What glove?” asked Anne, sounding extremely confused.

“The glove that pulled you into the kitchen.” Chloe told her, moving the bat up against her shoulder again.

There was a brief pause before Anne responded, “There wasn’t any glove pulling me back. I was just pretending that I was being pulled, you must have imagined it.”

Chloe tried to think if she could have imagined the glove, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that her friend’s voice was coming from behind the door, sounding fine, if not a bit out of breath.

She dropped the bat and walked toward the door, pulling the chain through the lock. She opened the door and was shocked to see not Anne, but a tall man with a white shirt stained with red smudges.

Chloe was taken aback and tried to close the door, but he forced it open, pushing her down on the ground in the same motion. He moved one hand to the right pocket of his pants pulling out a knife that was still dripping with blood. In his other hand, he had a white box that he moved up to his lips and when he spoke into it, out came the voice of Anne.


Credit To – David M.

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September 11, 2015 at 12:00 PM
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Four-year-old Shade Godwit always loved her teddy bear named Thomas. He was a brown bear with a blue raincoat and hat. She had him since she was a baby. Her parents got it from an eccentric, old woman’s yard sale before she was born. There were rumors that that the eccentric woman was actually a witch but they ignored people. They told others that being a witch didn’t necessarily mean evil.
Every night Shade would cuddle with the fuzzy bear and felt so safe. She also took him everywhere that she went. He was never out of her sight. To this child, this stuffed bear was her best friend but she didn’t realized how much she needed him until that horrifying night.
It was Friday, exactly midnight. There was the sound of a window shattering and Shade awoke with a start. Behind her closed door, she heard her dad’s heavy footsteps creeping downstairs and she was curious to what was going on but she was too scared to move. She just sat up in her bed, tightly holding Thomas and called out, “Daddy!”

Her dad had yelled, “Who’s there?” Then, he abruptly let a horrendous scream and there was a loud sound like a body collapsing onto the floor. Shade began crying. Her mom ran towards Shade’s door and her hand on the knob but her mom screamed and it sounded like somebody dragged her away from the door. Suddenly, all was silent.

Shade was crying harder now but she had managed to get out of bed and quietly opened the door. She crept out of her room with Thomas in her arms and she saw her mom laying faced down across the hall. Shade then ran to her. It would’ve been obvious to anyone else that the woman was dead but to an innocent, naïve child, she was just asleep.

“Mommy,” cried Shade, shaking her mom frantically, “please wake up! Mommy, Mommy!” Shade accidentally pushed her dead mom onto her back and she saw a terrifying sight. Her mom’s blood and intestines slowly oozed out of her stomach and the white of her eyes was only thing that stared back at her little daughter. Blood got on her hand and she tried desperately to wipe it off on her pajama bottoms without success.
Shade shrieked and sobbed hysterically, “Mommy is hurt Thomas. We have to…have to call for help!”

Holding Thomas close, she ran downstairs and turned on the light in the kitchen. She saw her dad laying on his back in the front of the smashed back sliding door, his body being completely gutted and his head was severed crudely with his tongue hanging out.Blood was splattered everywhere and the floor was very slippery. Trying not to fall, she was weeping even harder now that she could barely breathe. “I’m scared Thomas,” she said helplessly, not fully comprehending the situation, “I’m scared!” Then, her stomach turning with fright, she barfed on top of the gore on the floor.

“It’s alright Shade,” said a friendly sounding voice. Wiping away the bile from her mouth with her sleeve, she looked around fretfully but saw no one. Then, she looked down at Thomas. “Don’t be scared,” she heard Thomas say, “I’m here with you.” His lips were actually moving.

“Thomas,” she exclaimed excitedly, “you’re talking!” She wasn’t afraid by this. Like most children her age, she still believed in magic and she always thought that her bear was magical somehow. She could always see it in his sapphire eyes.

“Yes,” he said warmly, “to help you. Now call for help like you said. The evil is here.” She dashed to the phone. She had learned at preschool what to do during an emergency and had memorized the number faster than her classmates. She put the receiver to her ear and tried pressing 911 but there was no dial tone.

“It’s broken,” she whimpered.

“Let me listen,” said Thomas. Shade held the receiver up to his ear. “The line is dead,” he confirmed. She was beginning to cry again, when they heard footsteps approaching.

“Turn off the light and hide under the table,” Thomas whispered. Gripping onto him tightly, she turned off the light and darted underneath the kitchen table.

A demonic man entered the kitchen. His eyes were a blazing orange, his teeth were so jagged that they could rip into human flesh and bone, his jet black hair was long and reached the floor, and his twisted and deformed face had blood all over it. He was also wearing a flowing, red cloak and he was holding a red cane. Shade thought that he was the devil that the priest at her church always warned them about. With a low, monstrous, scratchy voice, he then said, “Where are you little girl? I can hear you.”

She was shaking like a leaf as she watched the evil man. Acute fear consumed little
Shade and Thomas whispered words of comfort but there was no use. She was so afraid that she peed down her leg and sobbed uncontrollably. Smelling her, the man crept towards the table. “Please be quiet,” Thomas told her desperately, “You’ll be safe.” She tried to cover her own mouth but it was too late.

Along with smelling her urine, the man also heard her breathing heavily. Suddenly, he bent down and tried to grab at her, cackling and shouting, “Peek-a-boo!”
She screamed in horror and backed away from underneath the table. She clumsily stood up and he began to chase her. She tried to run out but when she ran out to the entrance way, she would only be back in the kitchen. The man would just cackle loudly.

“What’s happening?” she bawled, as the monstrous man chased her, “I want Mommy and Daddy!”

“It‘s a trick,” explained Thomas.

“I got you now girl,” the man said with a demented smile, coming closer.

“Get the salt,” Thomas said suddenly.

Being tremendously frightened and confused, she exclaimed, “Salt? “Why?”

“Yes salt,” replied Thomas, “Salt protects you from evil things.”

“Where is it?” she asked.

“Your daddy was using it when he was cooking your dinner and he left it on the counter,” he replied.

Shade went towards the counter, sliding across the bloody floor and being out of reach of the wicked man for a second, and quickly grabbed the black container. She asked, “Is this it?”

“Yes,” answered Thomas.

Continuing to run, she then asked, “Now what?”

“Now let go of me,” Thomas instructed, “pour salt in your palms, and throw handfuls in his face.”

“I’m too scared,” she said.

“You can do it,” Thomas coaxed, “I know you can.” Reluctantly, she stopped running, gently dropped Thomas onto the floor, turned around, poured some salt into her hands, and threw it in the man’s face.

The man howled in pain, as his flesh sizzled. Moving backwards, she kept throwing salt at the man, each time his face burned and bubbled. She thought that she was beating the monster man until she realized to her dismay that the container was empty. The man smiled and came at her. “I can’t wait to hear you squeal for mercy,” laughed the man, trying to grab her hair. She ducked and bolted towards Thomas.

“The salt is all gone,” she cried, picking him up.

“Throw me at him,” Thomas told her, speaking rapidly as the man was coming near,

“I’ll take care of him!”

“But you’ll get hurt,” she said worriedly.

“No I won’t,” he assured her, “Trust me!”

Kissing the top of his head, she said tearfully, “You’re so brave.” As the man was getting inches closer, she tossed Thomas at the him. He glided in the air, his hat, coat, and eyes turning pure black and his smile turning into a fierce, fanged expression. He landed on the man’s face and began attacking like a wild animal. He bit, scratched, and tore into his face and the man was screaming in agony and backing away.

“GET OFF BEAST!” the man roared. With Thomas still on his face, the man ran out of the kitchen. Shade didn’t follow until she heard an explosion in the family room. She rushed in and saw a massive cloud of fire and smoke.

“THOMAS!” she screamed. Then, the fire and smoke disappeared. The evil man was nowhere to be found but Thomas was laying on the floor, his clothing and eyes back to normal color. She ran to him. There were no burns or tears on him but she was still concerned. Hugging him, she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Thomas smiled, “I’m alright. And the demon is gone now.” Being covered in pee and her parents’ blood, she felt exhausted and emotionally drained. She curled up into a ball in a corner, sobbed loudly, and snuggled with Thomas. He softly sang to her until she fell asleep.

The neighbors hearing strange sounds in the night, they called for help and the police found Shade in minutes. After staying in the hospital for a week, she was placed in a foster home. No one believed her when she told them what happened and Thomas never uttered another word after that night. People told her that it was just a bad man that killed her mom and dad and that she imagined Thomas talking to her but she didn’t care though. She knew the truth. Each night, she would lovingly hold Thomas close to her, knowing that nothing could harm her as long as he was there.

Credit To – Lena Holdman

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The Message Warning

September 9, 2015 at 12:00 PM
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It was in the last day of the year 2015 in which we received our message. We were preparing for a New Year’s party, and we were cleaning out the attic. We thought there’d be chairs.

What he thought instead was a cassette tape player; it was, no doubt, from at least the 80s.

My sister was the one to find it. I was the one to press play. Neither of us had any idea of how to work the thing; pressing play hadn’t helped. My sister realized the volume was down and turned it up. Unfortunately, we had one more issue. It was slow beyond recognition.

I left the attic by this time. We didn’t have time to fix an old cassette player. My sister, on the other hand, stayed.

I started getting ready for the party we were throwing for New Year’s Eve, and continued my work for at least an hour until I realized my sister had not come down to help me yet.

“Rachel! You okay?” I called. There wasn’t a response. I called again.


Frightened something could’ve happened, I ran up to the attic. I opened up the door and found her listening to the cassette tape.

“Rachel! I thought you were hurt. Why didn’t you answer me?”

She looked up to me with a blank stare and a glimmer of fear.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “I got the player to work, see?”

Yeah, I see. But we need to get ready. In 15 minutes people are going to be showing up to the party.”

“Hold on,” she said, fumbling with the player.


“Listen to this.”

“No! Didn’t you hear? People will be coming soon.”

I assessed the situation. I could finish getting ready for the party alone. Rachel clearly wasn’t going to be much help.

“Fine then.” I left the attic and ran around the house, fixing a table, getting snacks.

When I finished, the doorbell rang almost as I put the last bag of chips on the table. The party was going well. Around 11:45 the most people arrived. We were all excited for New Year’s.

What would the future bring?

The best moment only lasted a few moments. This was because my sister ran down the stairs to call me into the attic. Her face was pale. I went upstairs.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Listen to the tapes,” she commanded.

The tape played:

“Case 205A, James Edmund Brown of the Charles Millennium Asylum. Certifiably insane. He claims he’s from the future.”

“Hello? Hello!” another voice in the tape called, presumably James Edmund Brown.

“Hi. I need to send a message. I could tell you about all other kinds of catastrophe, but I need to warn you about ‘The End.’ This isn’t some terrorist attack. This isn’t some war. Heck, this isn’t even what I’d call a natural disaster. This is an unstoppable event, unless we can find some way to prevent it from ever happening.

“Let’s see… I’m from 2016. And it just happened. Like clockwork. First we heard the booming. Then, at exactly midnight, the meteors came. We literally never even saw them coming. They just appeared out of nowhere.

”The thing I’m most scared about is whenever someone finds this message. Hopefully, it won’t be too late. The universe just works like that; sometimes something is just meant to happen. With hope, dear listener, you may not just find this tape the same day ‘The End’ happens.

“Please listen. Whatever you’re doing, just stop. Try to leave. There’s no point in making a shelter—you’ll die anyway. I’m not even sure how I’m still alive. Please, just–“

The tape ended.

Rachel looked at me, with fear in her eyes.

“Rachel. We’ll be fine. Wasn’t this guy in a mental hospital or something?”

“But what is this tape doing here? And I thought I heard loud bangs!”


“James Brown mentions ‘booming’ in his explanation of his ‘end.’”

“I heard them too; they were just fireworks. It’s New Years Eve. Of course people will be celebrating. This is why you’ve got to stop watching the Sy-Fy channel.”

“I don’t know.” She seemed calmer. By the time we got down the people were already slow dancing to “Forever Young.” It was 11:59 when the house shook. Everybody screamed until one of my friends calmed all of them down.

“It’s just an earthquake,” my friend said.

Rachel was the only one still screaming. She ran outside. I yelled her name and followed her to the door. She left the house, and when I got to the door I found her out in the street.

My watch beeped. It was 12:00. Like clockwork, the stars fell. Meteors.

We found out what the future would bring. And we were horrified.

Credit To – Fumbles Powers

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One Last Drink

September 7, 2015 at 12:00 AM
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Joe slouched happily on his bar stool riding the best buzz of his life. Franky sat next to him, nervously scanning the room.

“Holy shit, Franky. Just…holy shit. There was something in that last one. Dunno what it was but whoo mama! I gotta get me another one of those!”

It was Saturday night and the bar was crowded with twenty and thirty-somethings, a dull roar of conversation filling the air as they joked and flirted. Despite this, Joe was being loud enough to draw some annoyed glares from the patrons closest to where they were sitting. Franky gave the cute blonde next to him an apologetic smile and she rolled her eyes before turning back to the Clint Eastwood lookalike currently chatting her up. Franky swallowed hard.

“Would you shut the fuck up, Joe? First, you can’t have another one of those because you got us kicked out of that bar. Honestly, man, I have no idea how you’ve survived this long the way you act. That chick’s boyfriend is gonna be pissed after what you pulled and I’m not totally sure they didn’t follow us here.”

Joe’s drunken ebullience turned sullen in an instant as he sulkily leaned across the bar, his scowl fixed on the bowl of peanuts resting between them.

“Whatever, Franky. Let ’em come. Flower power back there wants to make an issue of it, he’s more’n welcome to try. I’ll feed his head to his own asshole. Prick has a problem with me, he should learn how to keep a tighter watch of his woman.”

Franky sighed. He’d been out with Joe enough to know there was no reasoning with him when he got like this. “Yeah, I’m sure you would, Joe. Anyway, we should think about getting back to the house. You know how pissed Boris gets when we miss curfew. It’s getting late, and if we don’t get back soon we’re gonna be toast.”

“Awe, Franky, you little bitch. Fuck Boris. You know that asshat just likes to think he’s got control of us. What’s he care if we come in at two or three? No difference. I’m getting another drink before we go.”

Franky reached over and pulled on Joe’s shoulder. “Dammit, Joe, you don’t need another drink! You’re drunk enough as is; any more in you and you’re likely to start something that’ll have us against the whole damn bar! And I don’t care how tough you think you are, if that happens we are going to most likely get the shit kicked out of us! Then we’ll be lucky if we can crawl back to Boris’ place and even luckier if he lets us inside!”

A cold metallic sheen slid over Joe’s eyes and his mouth drew into a hard line as he reached up and took hold of Franky’s wrist in a crushing grip.

“Get your fucking hands off me, Franky.”

Franky let go of Joe’s coat and gulped. “Yeah, sure, Joe. Whatever you say, man.”

A single bead of sweat rolled down Franky’s forehead as Joe increased the pressure of his hold, tight enough to leave bruises. Abruptly, Joe smiled and released Franky’s wrist. “See there? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now don’t get your panties all in a bunch. One more drink and we’ll head back to the house so old mother Boris won’t be concerned, ok?”

Franky slumped unhappily in his stool rubbing his sore wrist. “Ok. Yeah, ok. One last drink. Just…just try to control yourself would you? For me?”

Joe laughed, “Only for you, Franky! Now then, let’s see; what do I want? Better make it something special since you’re rushing me over here and…what is that smell?”

Franky noticed it too, the scent of fresh bloomed lilacs ever so subtly laced with something muskier. The two men turned to look at the same time and were simultaneously struck, dumbfounded. The woman that stood in the entryway of the bar was a vision. Large almond eyes the color of dark chocolate were set above lips as plump as ripened cherries. A careless tumble of jet black curls framed the incredibly pale skin of her face, hair so thick it seemed to beg a man to run it through his fingers. She was dressed in a modest black dress that nevertheless served to accentuate her soft curves, the effect exponentially more arousing than any of the far more revealing outfits most of the other female patrons were decked out in. The roar of the room had descended to a quiet buzzing. Taking a moment to survey the crowd, the ghost of a smile reached the corners of her mouth before she made her way to the bar, the gentle sway of her hips holding the profound attention of every man in the room as well as the unmasked disgust of many of the women. Sliding smoothly onto a stool ten feet down the bar from Joe and Franky, the spell was abruptly broken and threads of conversation began to pick up again around them.

Joe turned to Franky excitedly. “Franky, I am gonna tap that shit.”

Franky sighed. “Joe, really? Every other guy in here just thought the same thing, man. I mean look at her! No way is she dumb enough to go anywhere with you. Let’s just get out of here. That chick is trouble, I can feel it. There’s just something about her that isn’t…right, you know? Something off.”

Joe grinned. “Yeah, there’s something off. See that pale skin? Profound lack of Vitamin D. Fortunately for her, I have the cure. Watch and learn.”


“Look, if she shoots me down, we go home ok? I won’t even try to get another drink.”

“Fine, I’m holding you to that. I’ll see you back here in two minutes, then we’re gone.”

Joe flashed a tooth bearing grin and laughed before sauntering towards the woman who already had three other men clustered around her. Franky leaned back against the bar, ready to observe the comedy that was surely about to unfold.

He could see her watching Joe out of the corner of her eye as he approached, only turning to give him her full attention when he’d gotten close enough to throw her one of his patented pickup lines. “Here it comes,” Franky thought, “the part where she throws her head back and laughs her ass off. Maybe if he uses one of his extra special lines those other guys there will do me a favor and lay him out. Then I’ll just have to get the bouncer to help me cart the shithead to a cab.”

He could see Joe say something then, to Franky’s amazement, the woman’s mouth curled into a wicked grin, her eyes burning with lust filled desire as she hungrily stared at Joe. She raised a single finger to the lips of the man standing next to her who had been obliviously trying to carry on a conversation before grabbing Joe by the hand and pulling him behind her towards the restrooms at the back of the bar. Joe had time to flash Franky an excited thumbs up across the room before the door slammed shut behind them. Franky’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“Holy shit,” he muttered to himself, “maybe I should see about getting another drink after all.”

Instead he simply sat at the bar, waiting for Joe to finish whatever the hell he was doing back there. Five minutes passed, then ten. Then fifteen. After twenty minutes Franky began to get worried. At thirty he got up and started to make his way back to the restroom. Joe would be pissed if Franky was interrupting, but dammit, they’d already missed curfew. He shoved through the bathroom door and stopped, unable to believe what he saw.

Joe stood slumped against the back wall of the restroom, his arms held on either side by men built like professional linebackers and looking like he’d been beaten to hell. The sultry woman standing in front of him was wielding a pair of pliers. As Franky watched she reached into Joe’s mouth with the tool and, accompanied by a sickening series of cracking pops, ripped one of his teeth out to join the small pile already on the tiled floor beside her. Joe moaned softly as bright red blood steadily pulsed out of his mouth and down his chin and chest.

Franky stepped farther into the room. “Hey! What the fuck are you doing to him?” If he could get one of those guys off Joe, they might just stand a chance of getting the hell out of there. He briefly registered movement to his rear and realized another assailant must have been hidden behind the door. Before he could turn he felt the sharp stab of a needle, then something like liquid fire injected into his neck. Franky fell to the floor screaming and writhing in pain as the poison did its work before finally passing into blessed unconsciousness.

Ice cold water poured over his head woke him up, sputtering. Franky coughed and blinked his eyes, a dull burning still echoing from his neck where he’d been injected earlier. His mouth was so dry, it felt like sandpaper. He looked around. He was sitting, tied to a chair in the middle of a nondescript warehouse, the pale light of dawn shining through the dirt encrusted windows high above. To his right he saw Joe was secured to another chair in a similar fashion, so battered and bruised that if Franky didn’t know better he would have thought the man was dead. The woman stood in front of him holding a bucket, flanked on either side by a pair of her black clad goons. She’d changed out of her dress from the bar into the same military style clothing the men wore. She smiled as Joe moaned through his mouthful of missing teeth, his head lolling in a circle.

“So sorry to wake you, boys,” she purred, her voice velvet over steel, “but I wanted to make sure you were conscious for the big finish.”

“Fuck, lady! What the hell is happening?” Franky croaked. “Who are you? What the fuck are you doing to us? Please, give me something to drink!”

She gestured to one of the men standing beside her, “Maurice.”

The man stepped forward and Franky saw he held a pint sized bag of blood in his enormous hands. Fingers moving deftly for a man of his size he inserted one end of a small plastic tube into the bag and held the other end over Franky’s mouth. A few, small drops bled from the tube onto Franky’s tongue, salty and so rich he almost gagged. Then the man called Maurice was gone, administering the same to Joe before returning to the woman’s side.

“There,” the woman smiled, “one last drink. In answer to your previous questions, my name is Morgana Fontaine. What is happening is I am avenging the death of my darling sister and countless other victims of your horrific appetites.” She turned and walked to the sliding cargo door on the side of the warehouse. “And what I am doing,” she said, heaving at the chain to raise the door, “is ridding the world of two more godforsaken parasites.”

Facing east, the light of the morning sun streamed through the doorway directly onto the two prisoners strapped in their chairs. As the first rays touched them, the men’s skin began to blacken and steam before spontaneously bursting into flame. Now fully alight, Joe and Franky’s screams echoed throughout the empty warehouse, pockets of fat under their skin bubbling and bursting, their eyes melting in their sockets. Morgana and her companions stood watching the conflagration, unblinking, until all that was left of the vampires were two small piles of dust and a pair of greasy black stains.

Approaching the remains Morgana noisily hocked and spat a healthy wad of phlegm into the ash.

“For my sister. Let’s get this cleaned up and get some breakfast, boys. I’m hungry.”

With that, the hunter turned her back, heavy boot heels clicking as she walked through the warehouse door into the welcoming light of day.

Credit To – Shadowswimmer77

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The Mechanic

August 29, 2015 at 12:00 AM
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My boss is an absolute dipshit. Sorry, I hate to be so blunt but that’s just the way it is. My name is Sarah Collins and I work as a personal assistant for a private law firm. It’s probably safer for you if I don’t mention where. Anyway, back to my arsehole sleazebag of a boss. He’s a short, fat little man who walks around the office like a total bigshot, Rolex watch, Armani suit… you get the picture. He’s also got one of those ridiculous moustaches that look like a gerbil sleeps on you upper lip. He’s a completely sexist pig and treats me like garbage. To give you an example, the other day he walked past my desk and “pretended” to trip, spilling a giant glass of water over my white blouse, making my shirt see through. It was so embarrassing. I would have left ages ago if I didn’t need the money so much. Simon Jones is his name. He orders me around like a dog, with no respect or praise at all. But back to the point. The other day after his usual rounds of berating everyone in the office he headed to his private lift to whisk him away to the safety of his ridiculously large office. Yet, when he pressed the button, a screeching noise of metal on metal filled the room and smoke billowed through the closed doors of the elevators. It was broken, which, as you can imagine made for a pleasant morning for the rest of us. NOT. He stormed into my cubicle, his ‘stache twitching furiously. “I don’t care how you get it done, or how much it costs, but if that elevator isn’t fixed overnight it’s coming out of your pay!” he leaned closer. “Slut” he whispered. I lowered my gaze, my face burning ferociously. “Yes sir” I mumbled. Unfortunately this would mean that I would have to spend the rest of the day searching for a repair man.


After 2 hours of searching I had made no progress and realized I was screwed. When everyone had left the office and it turned to 9 PM my finger scrolled down the webpage further and further, but I thought it was pointless. What sort of mechanic is open past nine? My heart fluttered when I saw the next ad. It didn’t stand out and the wording was dull and boring but there it was: Mr. Mechanic – WE FIX EVERYTHING. It also said that they were available whenever needed. I called their number which was really unusual, 005 555 555. A voice picked up on the other end, male but no emotion whatsoever. “Hello Ms. Collins” it said. “Hey” I replied before getting straight to the point. He was patient and when I was finished he said: “I will depart shortly”. I thanked him and hung up. I didn’t realize then that I hadn’t mentioned my name yet. He arrived faster than I had expected. His grey overalls were matched by his grey cap that both sported the slogan on the website. He was tall and unusually slim and his eyes were dull and glassy like marbles. I led him to the elevator and told him that I’d be catching some sleep in my office. An hour later I woke at my desk, a pool of dribble formed at my mouth. The office was eerily quiet. I looked up and the mechanic was staring at me from the door to my cubicle. “All finished.” He said. “Great, you’re a lifesaver. What’s the charge?” I replied. He told me there was no fee as it was an extremely simple job. I thought he was joking but then he nodded at me took off his hat and left. I locked up and went home and dreamed of men with grey hair and glass eyes.


Simon Jones strolled around his office impatiently whilst drinking a glass of bourbon he had poured himself two hours earlier. He was waiting for the CEO of a competing company to arrive so they could attend lunch together and discuss the civility of their situation. In frustration he threw his glass against the wall and it shattered everywhere. The phone at his desk buzzed and he jogged over to pick it up. “Mr. Jones, the competition has arrived sir”. “Good” was all he said before slamming down the phone and heading to his elevator. He pressed the button and the doors slid open silently and smoothly. He smiled to himself and adjusted his tie around his bulbous neck. Whoever that dumb assistant of his had hired, they had done a good job. Jones took one step forward, but his foot found no purchase and he fell, screaming 34 stories down an elevator shaft to his death.


After my boss died, his brother took charge. He was a great guy who gave me a promotion and a pay raise. A touch of class. There was an investigation but when tested following the incident, the elevator functioned perfectly. I was asked to show the police the number and the webpage of the mechanic I had called but the page had disappeared and when I called the number in front of the police a mechanical voice informed us that the number did not exist. However, one warm evening I was walking back to my apartment and a grey van swerved around the corner. The glassy-eyed man was behind the wheel. It may have been my imagination but he turned quickly to me, doffed his hat and gave me the briefest of smiles before disappearing around the next corner. I never saw him again, but the words on his van, overalls, hat and webpage are forever stuck in my head. WE. FIX. EVERYTHING.

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Adelaida and Kruv

August 27, 2015 at 12:00 PM
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The realm was beauteous and plentiful, its people more so. No plague touched its borders, no famine its lands. War was seldom seen in this kingdom, whose peaceful lords ran their fortified estates in harmony with one another. The only problem was that peasants were treated harshly, scraping to live on the scraps of land provided to them by their lords. Besides this, the nobles were amiable and open with their dealings with one another, with one exception.

In the southernmost castle of this bountiful landscape lived an estranged baron and his wife. Though seldom seen, they were both said to be startlingly beautiful youths, albeit rather sallow. Despite this, the Baron Kruv and his young wife Adelaida were a reclusive couple, only leaving their citadel in the utmost emergency. They never attended holiday feasts or tourneys held by the noblemen. The knights of their court were seldom seen in the festive jousts.

It was therefore a shock when it was said that the baron was to throw a jousting tournament in honor of his wife’s naming day. There was to be a feast following the events of the day, which would continue late into the night and into the early hours of the next morning. The noble men and women were ecstatic for the event. Knights trained, ladies gossiped, and nobles prepared their families for the festivities.

All the while the smallfolk would notice caravans of food, decor, lavish cloths, and other such things passing through their towns, bound south to the domain of the baron. This change was very sudden and new for the people of the land, who fantasized about the celebration to come. The day of the feast approached quickly. Those of higher birth donned their best attire, knights bore their armor, and everyone from the northern domains all the way to the south packed and left for the journey to Castle Kruv.

As the numerous families traversed through foggy wetlands and dense woods, a startling sight met their eyes: the dark and grasping spires of Castle Kruv. Each dark stone tower clawed its way into the sky, casting a gloomy and dismal aura about the battlements. While none could deny the macabre aspects of the castle, it also had an air of beauty, with its lush birch forest and surrounding grounds. And although the castle was undeniably unsettling, it too had aspects of beauty in its cold stone walls. It was these sights that greeted the ecstatic nobles and knights, as they completed the final stretch to the festivities.

Upon entering Castel Kruv, the revelers were led to various wings of the estate, in which they could clean themselves and rest from their travels for the evening to come. An hour after the last guests arrived, a servant of the house announced that the first of the jousts were to begin promptly. Lords and ladies greeted each other exuberantly in the decorated halls of the mighty, elegant fortress as the knights and squires proceeded to the field where the joust was to be held.

The pageantry of the Kruv family hung proudly from the halls and streamed from the tops of walls and towers. The heraldry of knights flew from tents, horses, and tabards, and the excited chitterings of near a hundred high-borns could be heard through the entirety of the arena.
Finally, another herald in the service of the Kruv’s announced that his lord and lady would not be attending the jousts. He apologized hastily on behalf of his benefactors, and swiftly departed. A small cry of dissent sounded from the amassed guests, but was swiftly silenced as the castle’s master of arms entered the field to commence the first match.

Horses charged, lances broke, knights rolled in the dirt. The crowd cheered their favorites and booed their rivals, all the while gossiping and chatting away. By the time of the final match, everyone’s voice was hoarse from over-use, yet their enthusiasm did not wane. After the sun had started to set and the winner of the day’s events had been announced, the noble families retreated to their temporary chambers to prepare themselves for the evening’s feast.

Lords and ladies clothed themselves in their finest raiments, planning to outdo each other in beauty and wealth. Long embroidered gowns of the finest silks and velvets were strewn about the shoulders of well-off women. Men in doublets of lavish textiles, decorated by the rarest gems, led their families through the torch lit halls of Castle Kruv, making their way to the heart of the fortified manor, the banquet hall. Rows of delicately carved tables lined with cushioned benches filled the room, save for a large central area serving for a dance floor.

Once everyone was seated, a loud musical flourish was played by the heralds of the castle to announce the entrance of the baron and his wife. The room became immediately hushed, all attention drawn to the ornately engraved door on the farthest wall of the room. The doors were pushed open, and in came a small stream of household servants, a few dressed in varying arrays of finery, handmaidens to the young baroness. A small escort of the castle’s resident knights followed behind, each sporting their colors on elaborately embroidered tunics. Finally came Kruv and Adelaida.

Lords and ladies alike gasped in stupor at the young nobles. Both were dressed in the colors of the Kruv family, red and grey. Both were also infinitely more stunningly beautiful in person than any of the stories had told.

Adelaida was a charming and spritely girl seemingly of around twenty years of age. Her hair fell in ebony ringlets around her shoulders and down her back. A circlet of silver inlaid with garnets rested lightly on the brow of her ivory flesh. Her dark lush ruby lips curved in a slight smile as she gazed over the crowd with stunningly pale green eyes. The long sleeves of her red gown almost brushed the ground, embroidered with intricate braided silver along the edges.

The other youth, Lord Kruv, was also pleasing to the eyes, causing the hearts of the younger maidens to skip a beat. His dark hair was worn short, though it still fell about his eyes. His strikingly pale skin mimicked his bride’s, unnatural for the location of their southern home. Kruv stood at an average height amongst his peers, yet he seemed to have dominating, almost feral air to him. His fine-boned, lupine face scanned the crowd of nobles assembled. He had no smile playing upon his lips, and bore a look of what seemed to be disinterest.

“My lords and ladies of the realm, I thank thee kindly for coming upon such short notice. My lady wife is very dear to me, and it greatly pleases both I and her that thou hast all arrived. It has been ages since we have had such a feast” rang out the voice of the baron, who proceeded to laugh deeply and unnervingly. Too late, the noblemen realized the knights of Kruv’s court had blocked off any means of escape from door or window. Lady Adelaida grinned fully now, revealing unnaturally sharp canine teeth. The handmaidens and servants of the baroness and baron began rushing through the crowds, snatching lords and ladies from their seats and dragging them to the corners of the hall to be fed upon. Surviving nobles fled to the exits futilely, blocked by the armed guards of the castle.

Many guests attempted to plead with the Baron and baroness, offering land, wealth, loyalty, and servitude. These attempts were made in vain however, and many of these whimpering lords and ladies became the blood-feast for the fair Lady Adelaida or her lover Kruv. Blood bedecked the banquet hall, and the court of Castle Kruv had a feast as none had ever seen before, nor ever had wished to see again. The peoples of the land reviled the southern realm of Kruv, yet no commoner complained to the liberation of the realm from their pompous liege lords.

It is still said amongst the peasants that any who wander past Castle Kruv on the darkest autumn night, shall hear the screams of those damned to a bloody fate amongst the vampires of Kruv’s court.

Credit To – Nefertam

This is a Crappypasta Success Story; it had a 100% upvote rate on its Crappypasta post (which can be seen here) and so it is being moved here with minor formatting/typo corrections. Admin Fail!

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