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Katie’s Song

February 4, 2015 at 12:00 AM
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You ever have a song pop into your head that you just didn’t want to hear? Whatever song you’re thinking of, mine’s worse: it’s Katie’s song.

Katie.

Yeah, I knew her.

The parts of my life where our paths cross flash before my eyes: Katie eyeballing me in class; Katie putting her hand on my leg on the bus; Katie and I staining each other’s clothes; Katie stretching out the collar of my shirt as I pull away from her. There she is, showing up at my apartment, unannounced, uninvited, in my mind’s eye the way it happened. But I don’t want to see it. I shut my eyes and the images won’t go away.

It’s three in the morning and I should be in bed. Katie’s thinking the same thing and wants to keep me company.

There’s a knock at my door. My heart starts racing. Whatever this is can’t be good. Good news doesn’t knock no your door at three in the morning. I go to check the peephole knowing full well that whoever’s on the other side has heard the floorboards creak. Another knock raps away.

I check the peephole. It’s Katie. Of course it’s Katie. How’d she get in the building? I open the door.

“What are you doing here?” I hear myself say.

“So, no ‘hello’?” she says.

Her eyes are stuck on the spin cycle, I can tell she’s flying on something and it pisses me off.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in,” she says.

“You show up here at three A.M., high as the fucking moon and you expect me to invite you in?”

“I’m not high. I’ve been drinking a little…”

“You know what? No.”

“No?” I can tell my rejection hurts her, it excites me a little.

She wasn’t expecting to not be let in. The thought never crossed her mind. But if I let her in now, I know that I’m implicitly telling her that it’s okay to pull this shit. And once it’s okay it’ll happen again and again …

“Go home, Katie.”

I start to close the door but she slaps against it with an open palm.

“Please,” she says, “I can’t go home. I just need a place to crash, I swear I won’t bother you.”

“That’s not my problem, I don’t even know you right now,” I say and the door closes. I take a look through the peephole and I can see she’s just standing there stunned. She crosses her arms unsure of what to do. Some weak part of me starts to crack, she looks vulnerable, devastated. It’s almost irresistible. But I need to be strong here. I have a point to prove, a valid point, an absolutely essential one.

I stand by the door, listening to her heels clip clop slowly, unsurely down the hall towards the exit door. When I hear it open and fall shut, I hit the sack.

But she doesn’t let me sleep.

I can hear her pacing in the loose stones between my building and the one next to it. Lot of shady characters in that building, mine’s the nice one, but it hardly matters because if either one of them caught fire, the other is fucked, they’re that close. And no matter how nice my building is or once was, the one closest to it taints it. Guilt by association —

I lose my train of thought.

Katie’s phone goes off right beneath my window, that stupid ringtone, Katie’s song.

Why doesn’t she answer it?

It’s cold out there, I know, and she’s not exactly dressed for it. I wish she would just go away, just go home. My mind screams, nobody wants you here. But that’s guilt tripping Katie, she’s just trying to make me feel bad for not letting her in.

Damn ringtone, there it goes again.

Christ, answer it!

But she doesn’t. Had enough of it so I stick in some earplugs, they do just a good enough job to cover her pacing, disturbing loose stones.

I can still hear her though. Pacing, banging and scratching against the stucco wall trying to get my attention. I can hear her muffled pleas through the window but I only smile to myself knowing that I’ve won. Your guilt trips are meaningless, powerless against me.

I hear Katie’s song once more before drifting off with a smile on my face but wondering why she doesn’t answer it.

At eight o’clock I look out my window with puffy eyes and creased skin. I can see about a half dozen people in and out of uniform in the dark, narrow space between the buildings. They’re kicking up one hell of a racket and they don’t seem to care too much that they’re waking everybody up because they’re examining the body of a dead girl.

A dead girl named Katie.

She was strangled, stabbed, murdered. Looking out the window I can’t un-see her lying atop the loose stones no matter how tight I close my eyes.

I follow the investigation on the news. Police have no suspects. Before too long the story goes away. And all this time I’ve never been able to get that song out of my head. I hear it when I’m driving, I hear it when I’m working, it pops into my head in the shower so I start humming and whistling the tune just before a shadow darts behind the curtain.

And now it’s three in the morning and I’m hearing it again with my own ears.

I can hear it playing outside my window. I always hated that song, but this time it isn’t driving me crazy. This time it’s a banshee’s cry, the chimes of a grandfather clock at the crossroads of infinity. ‘The bell tolls for thee,’ the thought comes in to my head from out of nowhere. This time, it makes my throat go dry.

“I’ve lived with the guilt,” I say to no one in particular, “isn’t that enough?”

But the only response is Katie’s song. I’m talking to myself here, but not for long. I know what’s coming. I try to brace for it and will it away. But there’s nothing I can do, my mind can’t turn back time or turn away a ghost. And then it comes.

I hear a knock at the door.

Credit To – Lucas Klaukien

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The Revolving Door

February 3, 2015 at 12:00 AM
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1.

I’m looking at myself in the mirror, not really realizing how bad I look. My skin looks extremely pale and I got dark bags under my eyes. What on earth happened to me? I’ve been leaning forward, clenching my hands around the sink. I don’t really know how long I’ve been standing here. I don’t even know where I am exactly. My mind has been empty for days.

Well I’m in a hotel, that much I know. But I have no clue of why I went here. Why did I leave home?

I look away from the mirror, down into the sink. There’s a distinctive smell of metal in the small bathroom area. It looks like the sink hasn’t been cleaned in a while, on account of the dust that’s in it. I open the tap to wash away some of it. The water starts running slowly, it makes a nice relaxing sound. I close my eyes and listen to the flow of the water.

My hands… they were red. I open my eyes again and turn my gaze towards my hands. Strange. What is that? Blood? How did I get blood on my hands? At least that explains the smell. I put my hands under the water flow and start scrubbing.
I turn off the water tap and leave the bathroom area. My hotel room isn’t a luxury suite. As a matter of fact, it’s far from luxurious. The walls are cracked, the paint is peeling off and there’s mold in the corners of the room. I sit on the bed that hasn’t been made and bury my face in my hands. What has a man done to end up in a shithole like this, I wonder.

I can hear voices.

No, not in a crazy way of course. The walls aren’t very thick, so it’s very likely that I can hear the neighboring guests of the hotel. I try to hear what they’re saying.

‘Are you listening to me?’

‘What do you think?’

‘…not responding…’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s just not working.’

‘…not even there.’

The voices sound muffled. It sounds like an argument, I assume they aren’t satisfied with this hotel. I can’t blame them. But it doesn’t matter anyway. I get up from the bed and walk to the wall to shout that they need to quiet down. I listen a little while longer, but the voices have faded. Good.

I think I’ll go to bed, get some sleep and tomorrow I’ll try to freshen up my memory.

2.

The droning sound of a buzzing phone. It’s one of the worst sounds to wake up to. I put my phone on the night stand next to my bed when I entered the room. I slowly open up my eyes and grab the phone. I pick up and listen to the voice on the other side of the line.

‘Hello?…’ I say with a broken voice. I keep listening, but nobody is responding. I wait and listen for a minute…

I look at the screen and only realize now that it was the alarm clock on my phone that caused the buzzing. An alarm clock at 3 AM, what was I thinking? I throw the phone across the room, turn around and try to go back to sleep.

I’ve been tossing and turning for about an hour. Damn it. I can’t sleep anymore. I get up and sit on the side of my bed. I guess that’s the end of my night. I’ll go outside for a nightly walk then. I get dressed, take my key with me and go outside, locking the door behind me.

The hallway on the 4th floor is long and dark, there are only a few TL lights illuminating it. At one side is the elevator. The other side turns around a corner towards a flight of stairs. I put my hands inside my pockets and start walking towards the stairs. While I’m walking through the hallway, I take a look at other doors. Most of them have a ‘don’t disturb’ card hanging on the door handle with the guest’s name on it.

‘Don’t go there!’

I immediately stop walking just before I turn around the corner. I look behind me to see who shouted at me. It was a woman’s voice. But there’s nobody in the hallway.

‘Hello? Who’s there?’

No response. I start walking back in the direction of my room to see if there’s someone hiding in the elevator. I click the button as I arrive and the elevator doors slowly open. I take a peek inside and see that there’s nobody inside. Relieved, I get in the small area and proceed to the ground floor.

‘You’ll be here for a while.’

There’s that voice again. I look around panicky to see where it came from, but I can’t see anyone in the elevator with me. Am I going crazy? With a shock, the elevator comes to a stop at the 2nd floor. I’m pressed against the walls, scared to move. The doors slowly open and I’m able to look into the hallway. But once again, the hall is empty. The doors close again and the elevator starts moving. I assure myself that nobody is following me. I probably imagined the voice. It’s about 4 AM right now, so it would be very unlikely that there’s someone still awake, watching me. I calm myself and as soon as the elevator stops at the bottom floor, I quickly get out.

Finally I see a familiar face. I greet the receptionist as I walk by and he gives me a slight smile, suppressing a surprised look because of my appearance at this time of night.

‘Just going out for a nightly walk,’ I tell him.

‘No you’re not,’ he mumbles.

3.

I look at him surprised, but I keep walking towards the entrance. The hotel has two doors, as most hotels do. There’s a revolving door and a regular one next to it. I’ll just take the revolving door then. As soon as I get close to the door, a sensor picks up my movement and the doors start moving. I get into the first of four openings, which quickly closes behind me. Then it stops moving.

Great… I push against the window of the door to get it moving again, but I can’t get it to budge. I call out to the receptionist, but he doesn’t notice or hear me. I knock on the window and wave to get his attention but he walks away without even looking into my direction. I’ll just hit the door a bit harder then. I kick against the window, I start hitting the glass, but it doesn’t even move in the slightest, nor does it damage.

Sigh… I’ll just wait for help to arrive then. Surely in the morning somebody will come. Daylight’s only a few hours away anyway. I get the idea of using my phone to call to the hotel desk, but then I remember I threw it away in my room. I sit down against the glass outer wall, looking at the three other parts of the revolving door. I close my eyes for a little while to make time pass faster. This’ll give me time to think about why I went here.

It feels like hours passed. I have no idea what time it is. Outside it’s still pitch black, there’s no trace of daylight to be found, but how is that possible? I’ve been here longer than 3 hours, I’m sure of it. I get up to look inside, to see if the receptionist is back already. But he isn’t. I try to push the door again. But it still isn’t moving.

I put my forehead against the glass and stand there for a little while, when all of a sudden I hear someone breathing softly behind me. I turn around and look straight into a pair of woman’s eyes in the left part of the revolving door. She has her hands pressed against the glass, her eyes are large, almost popping out of her head. Locks of her uncombed greasy blond hair stand up, her lips are chapped and she’s even more pale than I am. Her lips are shivering and it seems like she’s trying to say something. The dimmed light from the background gives her appearance a strange glow. Hesitantly, I get the courage to speak.

‘Excuse me, miss… I’m stuck in here. Could you please help me?’

Though not surprising, she just keeps staring at me, not responding. Slowly she takes her hands off the glass and points down. She doesn’t take her eyes off me. I turn my head slightly to see what she’s pointing at, but I don’t want to turn around entirely. From the corner of my eye I can see a familiar object on the ground.

My phone! Cool!

I bend over to pick it up and look at it. How did that get here? I look up to ask her, but… she’s gone. What the hell was that all about?

I look down to my phone and I can see that it’s fully charged. Quickly, I dial the number of the hotel desk and wait for someone to pick up. Meanwhile, I see the receptionist returning to the desk and pick up the phone.

‘Finally,’ I tell him while taking a glance at the parking lot in front of the hotel. ‘Listen, I know this sounds odd, but I’m stuck here at the entrance. Could you help me out please?’

I wait for his response, but I don’t hear anything. I turn around to look at the desk to signal the man. My heart skips a beat when I see there’s something written on the glass of the door where the woman stood few moments ago. I drop my phone from my hand as I read the giant word written in what appears to be blood.

Pictures.

Pictures? Through the gaps of the letters I attempt to see the receptionist at the desk. But he isn’t there anymore. Did I really see him then? Of course I did. Someone picked up the phone… or was it her? No, not possible.

I look at the word again and sit down on the ground to pick up my phone. Perhaps it means the pictures on my phone?

I open the image folder on my phone and take a look. The folder shows 1 image. It’s a picture of me with a woman in front of a house. In front of us is a small girl playing with her teddy bear. There’s a lot of blur in the picture and I have a hard time identifying the woman next to me. I zoom in on the woman. It’s a pretty woman, that’s for sure. Blond hair, pretty blue eyes and a broad smile. Something is coming back to me.

With all the confusion and the issues with the door, I completely forgot why I tried to go outside in the first place. Could it be that I left my home because of her? Then why is my head completely empty?

I look up from my phone and see that the word that was written on the glass is slowly fading…

I know this woman. We were together! I’m pretty sure she was my wife. And yes, we had a daughter together!

4.

It’s been silent for a while now. The excitement from my partially returning memory has faded.

‘Hello? Jamie? Do you remember? Do you remember what happened?’

That same voice. Again! I get up and look around to see if there’s anyone around. Maybe it’s the woman I saw earlier who’s calling me. But all the parts of the revolving door are empty. I check out my phone to see if the voice maybe came from there. But no… I’m all alone here. Surely I’m not imagining things!

‘Shut up!’ I shout out to the voice.

Dead silence…

I sit down again, facing the opposite room of the door. I close my eyes and try to convince myself of not being insane.

‘Mommy doesn’t want you anymore.’

I open my eyes and see a young girl in front of me. I sit up on my knees and look at the girl.

‘Hey, I know you,’ I say to her with a smile. The girl doesn’t smile back at me.

‘Do you remember me, daddy?’ she asks me.

‘Of course I do, you’re Celine, right?’

She smiles at me now, revealing her teeth. It’s coming back to me. My daughter, 8 years old. She always liked to wear a white dress, just like she’s doing now. She’s holding her teddy bear with one hand. In the other she’s holding a mobile phone.

‘Daddy is a bit confused though. Do you know what happened?’ I ask her.

She nods.

‘Would you like to tell me?’

She shrugs.

‘Hmm? It’s okay to tell me, sweetie.’

She stands there silently, thinking.

‘I can’t tell you, daddy…’

I look at her, thinking of what to say to make her tell me.

‘…but I can show you if you want.’

‘What do you mean, you will show me?’

She laughs. ‘You’re funny daddy. I will show you, okay?’

I nod to her. She turns around and starts to play with her phone. I stand up and move closer to the glass to see what she’s doing.

‘No peeking!’ she commands me.

My phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I take it out and pick up. I see Celine putting her phone to her ear as well.

‘Hello?’ I say.

5.

Again, nobody responds to what I say. I don’t have my daughter on the line, I’m sure of that. I look at her while I hold the phone to my ear. She’s looking back at me as well, but she put her phone on the ground. She still holds her teddy bear in her hand. Through the speaker I can hear some murmur, but there’s not someone talking to me directly. Slowly but gradually the murmur is getting louder and I can make out a heated conversation going on. It’s me, arguing… with my wife I guess?

‘You know what? Maybe I will just leave. I’m fed up with this bullshit!’

‘It’ll suit you. You always run away from everything anyway!’

‘Oh please.. what do you want from me?..’

‘You really want to know?’

‘Do tell me, yeah.’

‘I want you to get out of this house! And out of our lives!’

‘Your lives? If I’m leaving, I’ll take our daughter with me.’

‘Oh, no you won’t…’

A third voice joined.

‘What’s happening?..’

‘Celine, go to your room. Mommy and daddy are talking!’

The conversation suddenly ended, followed by a dead tone. The argument repeats itself in my head. I look at my daughter who was looking at me the entire time I was listening to the phone.

‘Daddy… that’s not all I wanted to show you.’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask her.

‘I want to show you more too. Mommy said I can’t show you because you don’t deserve it. But I won’t tell her if you won’t.’

‘Please show me… what happened,’ I tell her.

She doesn’t respond to me, yet she doesn’t take her eyes off me. I look straight into her eyes and see that they start tearing up. I try to say something as soon as a tear rolls out, but I can’t find any words. I’m looking at the tear, which rolls down her cheek, down her neck and onto her dress. On her dress several red spots are appearing. Red spots which are slowly growing…

‘It hurts…’ she says.

The bloodstains slowly grow. I can see my daughter struggling to stay on her legs. My eyes start tearing up. I can’t do anything about it. I try to smash the windows around me, try to bash through the corner of the revolving door, but it’s no use. I want to hold her in my arms.

‘You wanted me to show it to you…’ she says to me as she drops down on the ground.
I drop down on my knees, in tears to see what’s happening to my daughter. I close my eyes and put my head to the ground. My daughter…

6.

I shouldn’t have made her suffer like that. The argument, it had to do something with her death. But what really happened?..

I’m not sure anymore what is real and what isn’t. I’m stuck inside this door, that’s for sure. However, this door is unusually strong and withstands everything I throw at it. But then I just saw my daughter. But was that actually happening? Was I hallucinating? No… I couldn’t be. So many things have happened in such a short time…

‘Do you remember your daughter?’

There it is again! That voice! That voice of which the source is missing…

‘My daughter died!’ I shout to the voice. I know it’s insane to be talking to a voice that might not exist. But it’s taunting me… Obviously it too has seen what has happened just now.

‘What do you remember exactly?’

‘She’s dead. And I’m stuck here. I can’t do anything about it.’

I get back on my feet and start pacing around. This door I’m trapped in. It must have something to do with my family. What am I missing… Surely the voice of the woman can explain something.

‘Hello? Are you there?’ I ask.

No response. I look outside to see if there’s a sign of at least a shimmer of daylight. There’s still only darkness to see. However in the distance a small light appears. It looks like the headlights of a car driving towards the hotel. Can it be? Slowly but gradually the lights get closer. I can see the shape of a car turning and parking in front of the building, the beams of light are still pointing towards the door. A person gets out of the car.

The silhouette appears to be moving towards the trunk of the car. I can’t see what’s happening on the back of the car, but after a little while the person starts walking towards the entrance, carrying something. I put my hands on the glass, trying to identify the individual. The silhouette gets clearer and I know that I’m looking at a woman now judging by her hair. She’s holding something in a blanket. A few meters from the door, she stops walking and I assume she’s looking right at me.

‘Jamie?’ the woman says.

Frightened, I back away from the window.

‘Who are you? Come closer so I can see who you are. Please…’

The woman does as I ask. She walks towards the glass and puts down the object she’s carrying.

‘It’s me, Jamie.’

I also approach the glass to look at her.

‘Sally, what are you doing here? Call the police, call an ambulance. Our daughter is dead!’ I say to her while pointing at Celine.

She doesn’t respond to me. Instead, she bends over and opens the blanket she was carrying. I watch her slowly unfold it. She picks up the object and holds it with both hands, showing it as if it’s a holy relic. The knife shows Sally’s reflection through the dried up blood.

‘You remember this? I do…’ she says.

‘I don’t. But I heard our argument over the phone,’ I reply.

She doesn’t respond once again. Instead she looks to the other part of the revolving door where our daughter lies.

‘Our angel. She didn’t deserve this. And neither did I,’ she speaks without looking at me.

She looks at me now. She drops the knife and takes her phone out of her pocket, dialing a number.

My phone starts ringing now. I turn around, put my ear to the phone and listen…

7.

‘What’s going on?..’

‘Celine, go to your room. Mommy and daddy are talking!’

‘Why are you holding a knife?’

‘What? Put that away…’

‘Daddy, stop it!’

‘Shut up child, get out of the way and go to your room!’

‘Jamie, drop the knife now.’

‘Jamie… please. Don’t do this.’

‘Daddy!!!’

‘But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? Me separated from you and Celine? Well if I can’t have her, then you can’t either!’

‘No!’

I can hear objects being thrown around the room, people shouting… until the dead tone appears again. I take the phone off my ear and turn towards my wife who dropped her phone on the ground. I’m not looking at the same woman anymore. She turned into the woman I saw on the other side of the door, the woman I saw first. I didn’t recognize her before, but now I do. She raises her arm and points to behind me. I turn around and look at the words that appeared in blood on the glass.

You did this…

What did I do… I turn back to look at her and I see her clothes are slowly turning bloody as well. I can only stand there and watch what’s happening. I killed my wife?

I killed my child in a fit of insanity?

I drop down on the ground with my hands covering my head. It all makes sense now. I did this. I’m a killer.

I spent what felt like an eternity in that room on the ground, disgusted by my own being. I get on my feet and look at the opening of the revolving door, which is right in front of me. I’m not trapped anymore! I can walk straight towards the elevator towards my room. I feel the urge to go to my room. I don’t even want to leave the hotel anymore. While I’m walking towards the elevator, I hear a familiar voice.

‘Let’s get you back to your room, shall we?’

8.

The officer, clouded by a troubled mind, enters the building after a 3 hour drive. He checks in his gun and badge at the entrance.

‘Please take a seat over there,’ the receptionist says.

The officer, wearing a casual stylish blouse and jeans with white sneakers, does as he’s requested. After a 15 minute wait, he is approached by a woman wearing a long white coat.

‘Officer Martin?’ she asks.

‘Yes, that’s me. You must be Dr. Colton,’ he replies.

‘Please, call me Alice. If you’d follow me. I understand you were closely involved with this case?’ Alice says as they’re walking through the long corridor.

The officer replies: ‘Yes. Well… kind of. To be honest, I’m here on family reasons.

You see… the victims who were murdered, were my sister and my niece.’

‘I understand. Normally we don’t allow insights into our patients, but in this case I can make an exception. Just keep it on the down-low please.’

‘My lips are sealed.’

The two arrive at an office, at the end of the hallway. They enter. The officer looks around to see what’s in the room. The room looks very messy. There’s paper scattered all over the places, several cabinets are opened and there’s dust on the shelves where diplomas, photos and other objects are kept.

‘I’m sorry for the mess. I was looking for the documents you required and I made a bit of a mess I’m afraid…’

‘That’s okay, I know how bad paperwork can get,’ the officer replies with a smile.

‘Now then. The patient. So I’ll explain the way we work around here. What we do is we keep audio logs of every day we treat a patient. We start off by picking up the patient, then taking him to a room where we try talking to him. Now this patient is a very peculiar case. We know what happened, all the evidence was there. However… this man isn’t healthy on a whole different level,’ the doctor explains.

‘I’m afraid you lost me there,’ he says.

‘I think that when I let you listen to our audio logs, it’ll be much clearer for you.’

The doctor takes a USB flash drive from his desk and plugs it into the computer on his desk.

‘I took the liberty of compiling the most useful excerpts from the whole therapy session for you on this drive,’ Alice says before she plays the audio files.

9.

Audio log day 1.
Patient: Jamie Garth

Day 1. Patient’s name is Jamie Garth. Garth was admitted to the hospital three days ago. Declared insane. He was accused and found guilty of slaying his wife and daughter. He was found in a hotel room, rambling and mumbling to himself. Tomorrow I’ll try to talk to the patient in his room to find out more about him. I had the opportunity to see the patient while he was being escorted to his chamber. He doesn’t seem to respond to anyone or anything except himself.

Audio log day 2.
Patient: Jamie Garth

Dr. Colton: Day number 2. This is Dr. Colton, accompanied with my assistant, Dr. Landon. Today we’ll have our first contact with the patient. Continuing log at the patient’s room.

———————————————————-

Dr. Colton: I’m in the patient’s room now. Doctor Landon will follow shortly. The patient has been standing in front of his mirror for a while now. He doesn’t see or hear us. I’ll keep observing him.

Dr. Colton: Patient has moved to his bed. He shows signs of depression. Trying another attempt at making contact.

Dr. Colton: Jamie? Are you listening to me? Can you hear me?

———————————————————-

Dr. Landon: Making any progress?

Dr. Colton: Not really, no. I’m trying to talk to him, but it’s like he looks right through me. He doesn’t even notice me being here.

Dr. Landon: What do you think is wrong with him?

Dr. Colton: No idea… he’s just not responding to anything.

Dr. Landon: Why not?

Dr. Colton: I haven’t figured that out yet. All I know is that mentally he’s not even there.

Jamie: Quiet down!

———————————————————-

Dr. Colton: It does seem he is aware of people somehow. But it’s not this world he’s actively living in. We’ll continue tomorrow when we’ll take him to the therapy room.

Audio log day 3.
Patient: Jamie Garth

Dr. Colton: Going to pick up the patient. Entering the room now. On my own today.

Jamie: Hello?

Dr. Colton: The patient is aware of his surroundings. I want to see if he’s able to walk around the hospital. Just to see if he does recognize physical areas beyond his own mindset.

———————————————————-

Dr. Colton: Patient is getting dressed and walks outside into the hallway. He’s walking down the hall, looking at other patient’s doors. He doesn’t show any interest to disturb them.

Dr. Colton: Don’t go there!

Dr. Colton: Patient stops and looks around. I think he heard me that time. Selective hearing maybe?

Jamie: Hello? Who’s there?!

Dr. Colton: The patient is looking straight through me again. I’m going to escort him to the therapy chamber. The patient doesn’t seem to instantly be able to find his way to the elevator.

———————————————————-

Dr. Colton: Don’t worry, you’ll learn your way around this place soon enough. You’ll be here for a while anyway.

Dr. Colton: The patient appears to be afraid of my voice. He’s looking around panicky.

———————————————————-

Jamie: Just going out for a nightly walk.

Dr. Colton: No you’re not, Jamie. Just come with me.

Audio log day 4.
Patient: Jamie Garth

Dr. Colton: We’ve kept the patient in the therapy room for a while. The patient seems to be trapped in his own world. He’s asking people for help and tries to talk to people to help get him out. At this point, it appears he has no memory of what happened to him. Attempting another interaction.

Dr. Colton: Hello? Jamie? Do you remember? Do you remember what happened?

Jamie: Shut up!

Dr. Colton: Interesting.

Audio log day 5.
Patient: Jamie Garth

Dr. Colton: Something just happened. Garth is talking to someone, his daughter probably. This means that he is trying to remember what happened. He’s visualizing the past to help him figure things out. Interesting. I wonder how accurate his visualizations are.

Jamie: What do you mean, you will show me?

Jamie: Please show me… what happened.

———————————————————-

Dr. Colton: The patient has been silent for a while now, he seems to have become desperate. Judging from what he said, I assume he found out that something happened to his daughter.

Audio log day 6.
Patient: Jamie Garth

Dr. Colton: A new day. We’re going to see if the patient has retrieved some of his memory.

Dr. Landon: You will do the talking then, I assume.

———————————————————-

Dr. Colton: Hello Jamie, you spoke to your daughter yesterday, didn’t you? Do you remember your daughter? Do you remember your wife?

Jamie: My daughter died!

Dr. Landon: So he is remembering some things.

Dr. Colton: What do you remember exactly?

Jamie: She’s dead. And I’m stuck here. I can’t do anything about it.

Dr. Colton: You hear that? His memory is getting clearer. But not entirely yet. Part of his confused state the police found him in.

Jamie: Hello? Are you there?

Dr. Landon: Let’s take this step by step. Best continue tomorrow, don’t you think?

Audio log day 7.
Patient: Jamie Garth

Dr. Colton: We’re witnessing something interesting today. Garth appears to be interacting with his wife. He’s pacing around the room, looking frightened, confused.

Jamie: Call the police, call an ambulance. Our daughter is dead!

Dr. Colton: The patient still hasn’t figured out the facts regarding his daughter. Wait. Something is happening. He lies on the ground now. All interaction seems to have faded away. He’s mumbling that he doesn’t deserve to live. Perhaps his memory did return after all. Best take him to his own room.

Dr. Colton: Come on, Jamie, on your feet. Let’s get you back to your room, shall we?

Audio log day 10.
Patient: Jamie Garth

Dr. Colton: No signs of improvement. The patient keeps repeating his own actions over and over. He doesn’t seem to have any indication of time and place.

Audio log day 19.
Patient: Jamie Garth

Dr. Colton: I’ve now spent 18 days trying to get through to him. But it’s no use. The patient relives the same experience over and over again. He still thinks he’s trapped somewhere. He doesn’t realize he’s stuck in his own head. We call this the revolving door effect. The patient gets into an imaginary revolving door. He wants to go straight out, but his own mind doesn’t let him. As soon as he thinks the experience is over and he can reach the outside, the mental door puts him right back in.

His lack of memory, combined with an overwhelming feeling of guilt, doesn’t allow him to leave that circle of despair and move on. Each part of that revolving door shows him things that happened. From what I and dr. Landon could gather, is that he clearly remembers his daughter and wife, finding out along the way that he murdered them.

This cycle has repeated itself 3 times now. It’s unclear to us if he will ever break the cycle and manage to leave the revolving door. We’ll try to talk to him a few more times, but if there aren’t any signs of change, I’m afraid we’ll have to put the sessions to an end and search for different approaches to solve the problem.

10.

The recording stops. A few minutes have passed and the doctor and the officer have been listening to it quietly.

‘The revolving door effect, huh…’ the officer says.

‘That’s what we like to call it, yes.’

‘So what will happen to Garth when the therapy sessions are over?’

The doctor puts her hands behind her head.

‘In cases like this we either let the patient live in his room, live out his life. Or we try to find different methods. Perhaps after a while he will snap out of his delusional state himself. But we highly doubt that will happen.’

‘I see. I still wonder what could possibly drive a man this far into madness.’

‘Don’t we all,’ the doctor replies, ‘but that’s what we’re trying to figure out with our therapy sessions. Anyway, I hope I helped you out. Perhaps you’ll be able to have some closure now.’

‘I really appreciate your help. Thank you for that,’ the officer says as he gets up to shake the doctor’s hand.

‘Don’t mention it,’ she says. ‘If you’ll excuse me now, I have a session with another patient in a little while. I’m sure you can find your way out.’

The officer nods with a smile and leaves the office. He walks back towards the entrance desk to pick up his stuff and proceeds to the exit. Before leaving, he stops and takes a look at the revolving door that’s in front of him. Slowly he exits the building, deciding that he’d rather use the regular door next to it.

Credit To – TvanK

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Abu Ghattat

February 2, 2015 at 12:00 AM
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This story is a Crappypasta Success Story – it got such a positive reception (additionally, the author has reworked it somewhat after taking his received feedback into account) over at Crappypasta that it’s being moved here to the main site. You may read the original Crappypasta post and comments here. Congratulations to the author and thanks to the Crappypasta community for the save!

It has many names, the Scandinavians call it the mare, the Turkish call it Karabasan, from where I come from we call it Abu ghattat; however, I suppose you had probably heard of it under the name the “Sleep paralysis”. First let me define it: Sleep paralysis is a phenomenon in which a person, either falling asleep or awakening, temporarily experiences an inability to move, speak or react. It is a transitional state between wakefulness and sleep characterized by complete muscle atonia (muscle weakness). It is often accompanied by terrifying hallucinations (such as an intruder in the room) to which one is unable to react due to paralysis, and physical experiences (such as strong current running through the upper body). One theory is that it results from disrupted REM sleep, which normally induces complete muscle atonia to prevent the sleeper from acting out his or her dreams. Sleep paralysis has been linked to disorders such as narcolepsy, migraines, anxiety disorders, and obstructive sleep apnea; however, it can also occur in isolation.

Hallucinations? Is that what those who do not believe in paranormality call an unexplainable phenomenon or its effects? There are many people who rely on science to clarify all phenomenons; yet there are mysteries that even science seems to fall in its shades. According to science, you can experience a certain hallucination between the phase of sleep and wakefulness. Still, just how can we all have the same hallucination? How can we all witness the exaxt same terror? To me this is an insult to all of those who have faced it; Abu Ghattat that is, and that is how I will always refer to it, not as a personification to a phenomenon but as the demonic spirit that it is. Most people will clearly change their minds about it if they had the same experience, and live in denial that it was nothing but a dream; even though, in that case it’ll ease their mind. You see, once you encounter Abu Ghattat, you’ll have every right to claim it was a nightmare, because if you realized its truth.. You’ll most certainly never be the same again.

This brings me back to quite a tragic story; the story of a close friend and a neighbor of mine, his name was Adam. I remember him very well, just two years ago back on a Sunday evening, I remember heading back to the neighborhood together, he had that cheerful happy-go-lucky personality, as we used to hang-out every week-end. Adam you were such an amazing person! On that exact evening, I bid him farewell and left him with his usual smile; that was a smile he would never put on his face again for the rest of his life.

The next morning he didn’t show up to school all day. It wasn’t really that much of a surprise because we skipped school all the time, I couldn’t ever visit him because his parents disliked me, for they deemed me as a bad influence on their child. It was all kind of regular, nothing to worry about up until now; but he skipped school the day after as well, and so on. He didn’t answer his phone, he’s never online on any social network, and he’s nowhere to be seen. I became worried sick about him, I just had to know what is going on. So I waited until Friday when both his parents aren’t home and visited him. But much to my surprise, both his parents were there. His dad had that creepy glare which he showed me everytime he saw me, but it was somehow different than before. I sensed that he wasn’t angry.. he was sad. Then he spoke with a sorrowful tone: “Hello there, good thing you came honestly! Adam is in his room, if it’s possible please talk to him for a bit” The situation was awkward enough for me, and I just couldn’t ask what’s wrong. So without further hesitation I went to his room.. The door was open, I stepped inside and saw Adam sitting on the floor. Dear God, the state he was in was indescribable. I greeted him but he didn’t reply and he kept shivering from the moment I showed up, I felt like my presence won’t help him through whatever he’s going through, so I just went out with an optimistic faith that he probably just had too many mushrooms again, but that most certainly wasn’t the cause for this. Anyway I decided not to visit him for a while, at least until he recovers a bit.

One week later, as I had been heading to school, I saw it.. The large tent-like structure that holds funerals in my homecountry, the tradition is to construct it close to the deceased person’s house, and to keep it there for three days to welcome condolences. What shocked me was that it was constructed near Adam’s house, I ran to get there fast as my heart beat even faster. I asked the first person I met shouting: “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? WHO DIED?” He then replied, informing me of Adam’s suicide, he slit his own throat. My God! Adam, how come that you disappeared from our lives? These news almost made my heart stop, it had broken my soul. A dark cloud covered the neighborhood propagating anguish and misery all over it, it was a great loss for everyone. I gave my condolences to Adam’s parents, his tearful dad told me to return tomorrow for a highly important subject.

The following day, I went to see Adam’s dad, only to find that he gathered Adam’s clothes and overall possessions in a big Cardboard box. He told me that since I had used to be a close friend of Adam that I should be the one to take them. This didn’t look right one bit. Adam was his child, and as his father he must keep his possesions in order to remember him. But looking at that face, I realized he already can’t forget the tragedy of his only son, he wants to take out anything that may remind him of that. So I accepted to keep them instead. He later informed me that his wife and him will move out of town, but that didn’t surprise me.

I took the Cardboard box home. I found within it a Photo Album, and nostalgically viewed it when something between the pages caught my eyes; it was a letter. It had a date which was the day before the one I visited him at. I started reading it and its contents brought me to tears. It was written as the following:

To anyone who is reading this, I’m writing this because I couldn’t share what happened to me with anybody. Even though, I wanted someone to look in my eyes and tell me it’s alright, I couldn’t bring myself to it. Oh God I just couldn’t!
On Sunday night, that cursed night that will forever be kept inside my memory. I was sleeping normally, traveling the fantastic dreamworld. I can’t recall what my dream was about, all I can remember that I was feeling really delighted, but then I fell into somekind of a pit, which woke me up. Upon waking up, I felt somekind of pressure on my body. I tried to stand up, but I failed to. I couldn’t move a muscle, I couldn’t do anything, neither move nor talk. I was clearly able to see the insides of my room, and was damn sure I’m not having a dream so why? Why couldn’t I move? I thought I’m having that thing my grandmother once told me about. Abu Ghattat, according to the myth she told me it’ll only last for minutes, and the paralysis will perish. But what creeped me out, was the fact she mentioned something about a demon being the one paralysing you. But I knew such thing is impossible, I really wanted to believe that. But then I heard a sound coming from the corner of my room. Since my eyes were the only part of my body that wasn’t paralysed, I tried to force them to focus on the room’s corner, and then I saw it. That sight terrified me to the fullest. The Jinn, the demon Abu Ghattat, the monstrous being sitting there with the most sinister smile on its hideous face, it noticed that I saw it and started crawling slowly until it reached me. I was dying from terror, I wanted to shout, I wanted to scream, I wanted to get off my bed and just run for it, but I couldn’t. Then it sat on my body and I could clearly see its grotesque image now. It wasn’t very big, it resembled a troll or something, only it was uglier and scarier. It then strangled me with its hairy hands while keeping that smile. Oh my God! How terrible that felt, then it started biting my torso and punching it, it got off my body for a couple of seconds to wonder the room laughing, while I could only watch, while I can’t do anything to save myself. It came back to me again and started strangling me all over again. I just wanted to close my eyes, I forced them with all my might to get closed. Then the paralysing feeling disappeared, I opened my eyes screaming as hardly as I can waking up my parents in the process, the demon Abu Ghattat vanished as well.
All what happened later doesn’t matter anymore, and now that night refuse to exit my mind, the same goes for Abu Gattat’s damned face. I don’t know what have I became anymore, I’m afraid to sleep, I’m afraid of the dark, I’m afraid of solitude. I keep feeling its demonic presence near me all the time. It’s like I’m loosing my mind gradually. I know that I should get a grip of myself and be strong but I cannot, I cannot.

The letter ends like that, Oh Adam I should’ve been there for you when you needed me the most, I’m sorry my dear friend, may your soul forgive my idiocy.
It was hard for me, but I had to look more to what he was going through, I made a research on Abu Ghattat or how it is formally known: The Sleep paralysis. As it seems, there are things that provoke it, but the way I see it, those were things that invite Abu Ghattat to your bed. I have discovered that many people had the same experience as Adam. Most of them saw it as well, the grotesque creature Abu Ghattat. All of them aknowledged within themselves that it was a dream, if only you had done the same Adam! Your fear took hold of you and swallowed you completely, it devoured you from the inside, to the point you gave up on your own life to end your suffering. Now I see that you thought it was more mercyful, if only I had realized all of this sooner. May God have mercy on your soul.

Many may disagree, but to me Abu Ghattat is real. I used to be horrified by the fact I could end up its victim anynight, and even though I got over it quite a long time ago; remembering the evil that took away my friend still haunts my mind. After all, unlike the common ghost stories and sightings, it is real. Now I know that all of this had horrified a lot of you people as well, all I can recommend is not to do anything that could invite it in. Do not get yourself into a nightmare you might not wake up from, as you may suffer the same fate as Adam. This is all my dear readers, have a good night. Although, I know you probably won’t.

Credit To – Writer: Faissal Ouard / Definition: Wikipedia

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The Singing House

February 1, 2015 at 12:00 AM
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My friends used to dare me to visit the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. In fact, everyone was daring everyone to do it.

I remember the looks on their faces. How scornful they looked at my refusal. How they all called me chicken and teased me endlessly.

Not anymore. They’ve all done it, and they all regret it. Now they discourage me from visiting that house. The old house at the end of Singing Court. Street number 2104. People were dared to spend a night in that abandoned old house, and of course, everyone came back just fine.

Afterwards they were different. Scared out of their minds. Convinced they’d never set foot near Singing Court again. A simple high school joke gone completely wrong.

I know, people always do stupid things like this, and a few of them come back with ghost stories to liven things up. Get everyone guessing, make people believe crazy things, but this isn’t the average “haunted house”. Everyone who came back from the house swore there really was a ghost, a ghost who had almost gotten them and they barely escaped.

Try the bet, you enter the house, you hear the strange sounds, the ghost finds you, you run, you tell your friends, they laugh. They try it themselves.

They never laugh at you again.

That’s what happened to some of my own close friends at school, if you could call them that anyways. It was high school, and lots of your “close” friends at high school are really just the “crowd” you fit in with, you know? I was like that. My name is Cameron, and I used to go to South Cadance High School. Pretty natural high school. Bullies, jocks, month-long relationships, name it.

I was pretty natural too. I was tall, I had short brown hair, I played football. Except people always said I was a little unique. I was nicer. I paid more attention to people’s pain, their feelings, their stories. Maybe that attribute is why I did what I did. I got really curious about all the stories. I’m a sensible guy, and ghost stories just didn’t really add up to me. There’s no such thing as ghosts, I always thought.

So like a fool, I eventually brought up the subject at lunch one day. I said to my buddies, “You know what? I’ll do it.”

Instantly, Tre nearly flipped out. “No way, man! We were wrong before, don’t go there!”

Josh laughed. “It’ll be your funeral, man.”

“Don’t you remember? Everyone acts the exact same when they come outta there,” Tre continued breathlessly. “And the story’s the same! Ghost in the house, in the yard, on the driveway, somewhere in there, and it almost gets us!”

“Oh, come on! Nobody’s ever stuck around just for a moment, nobody’s ever tried to see who it was? Probably someone playing a prank. Don’t you think?”

“Can’t be a prank,” Tre answered, shaking his head. “Not the way it happens.”

“I know how it happens. You’ve told me eighty or ninety times now. Gets all cold, a weird ringing sound in the air, wah, wah, wah.”

“You ain’t listenin’, man! You could be the very first one that thing finally gets!”

“Gets?” I snorted. “As in kills?” Of course, that’s what some might say about me now. Others might say I was stolen, or trapped forever. That’s not how I see it.

Let me roll back a bit though. Well, as you expect, my friends all kept trying to convince me to stay away from 2104 Singing Court. The more they did, the more curious I got. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was definitely going to visit the place. Tonight. It was Friday night, the best night. Against my friends’ wishes, I decided it was happening.

So that evening, after I and my parents ate dinner, watched the news and did all the other boring things that parents will do, they went off to bed. I kissed my mother good night. Then I tiptoed upstairs, picked up my spare backpack I’d filled with a little gear, and snuck out.

I made it easily to 2104 Singing Court in no time. The road was less than a five minute walk away. When I got there, the house looked just like it always did, old and peeling yet sturdy. Not much creaking and cracking. You could feel safe under that roof in a storm.

Tonight, something was different. I’d never actually seen the house at night. Was that it? I wasn’t sure, but something about the house seemed to draw me in further. That night I finally crossed the line I’d never crossed before, and started up the hill driveway.

The door opened easily. There was no lock in it. I entered, right into a small living room. Taking out my lantern and switching it on, I saw a pile of sticks in the corner closest to me, undoubtedly from the other visitors. I turned into a small hallway. There wasn’t a single cobweb around. I guessed, at the time, that everyone had knocked them down. I know different now of course, but at the time I was still naïve about the whole thing.

The next room was the kitchen. It looked like any ordinary old kitchen in the darkness, just without anything set up on the counter. There was even an old refrigerator sitting against one wall, with a stove on one side of it and a microwave secured above. Too bad there was no power. I could have brought some reheatable food if this house was still connected to the wires. I’d have to make do with the sandwiches I’d packed.

I chuckled to myself. “Everyone was right about this place. Sure is spooooooky,” I teased the house. There wasn’t anything interesting in here yet.

Then suddenly I felt something odd. It passed by so quickly, I couldn’t even tell what it was after it had gone. For a moment, I stood there wondering, and then I felt it again.

The floor! It was vibrating! It felt like something had just switched on. I wasn’t sure what it was. The vibrations crept up my legs, and I shivered, taking a step back. Then the noise came, blasting from out of nowhere, right in front of me. The ringing!

I reached into my pocket and yanked out my screeching cell phone. I swiped the caller icon and held it to my ear. “God dammit Tre, you scared me to death!” I cried in a harsh whisper. “If anyone sees me in here, they’ll call the-”

“Dude! I just hadda know if you actually did it. You’re in there? Right now?”

“Yeah, I’m here. This place is boring, man. It’s a little cold around here. I’m starting to think I might just take off in a few minutes.”

“Good, man, get outta there. Don’t stay! You really should leave, I mean like, right now!”

“I’m not falling for it. Nothing’s tried to attack me here. Unless the whole school’s in on some joke I don’t get, you’re all delusional.”

“I don’t care what you’re thinkin’. Just get outta there!”

“See ya, man.” I hung up with him still protesting at the other end, then started to laugh quietly. Imagine, everyone scared of this—of what?

Of shadows! There was nothing moving here but shadows. Everything else was deathly still. I looked around the kitchen one last time, then made my way back to the living room, where I’d put my bag. I changed my mind at that moment—I’d stay a bit. I had brought snacks, after all, and a book to pass the time. Mainly, I just wanted to stay long enough to encounter this “ghost” so I could tell everyone how crazy they were.

About an hour, that’s how long it usually took for them to leave. So I decided I’d stay two hours, and if nothing happened, then for certain I’d be going then. No reason to stay otherwise. I opened the compartment with the sandwiches and pulled out the little lunch bag I’d packed them in. I stopped short as I unzipped it.

There were two sandwiches. I’d packed three in there. But I shook away strange thoughts, realizing I’d probably left the last one on the counter at home. I’d get it later tonight after I went back. I pulled out one of the sandwiches—my favorite kind, mayo with cheese and cold turkey, Frank’s hot sauce, onions and spicy peanut sauce. Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds weird. Sue me.

I took a bite and opened up my favorite classic, Summer of the Monkeys.

I’d just gotten past the fourth chapter when I started hearing the sounds. Real sounds this time. Scratches against the side of the house, from the back yard.

I wasn’t afraid. I picked up a stick from the corner pile, switched on my lantern, and headed slowly for the back door. I wasn’t scared, but I also wasn’t an idiot or a daredevil. I held the stick out right in front of me, and moved about two miles an hour. This could be anything—maybe even a lurking animal. I had to be ready to defend myself.

I swung open the back door. Instantly the sounds grew louder. They were right outside the door, just around the edge of the door jamb. If I took one more step, the thing making the noise would be instantly to my left. I took a deep breath and my heart, I realized, was actually beating a little fast. I turned left, sidestepped out the door and raised the stick—

An instant before I saw what was there, the sounds faded and the tiny little white light that had apparently been there moments ago faded. Just like a flashlight shutting off. But even as I panted hard, struggling to keep a cool head, I realized that there was nothing in front of me. Nobody was hiding in the darkness, having just turned off their light—there was absolutely nothing.

“All right, that’s it,” I called out to the darkness. “Get out here!” Nothing stirred. Now I wasn’t only scared, I was angry too. I stepped quickly down the few crumbly brick stairs and took several steps out into the back yard.

I heard it again.

Scratch, scratch…

Now it was more like a shuffling sound. Not the sound of fingers scratching against the side of the house. More like footsteps, several feet out of my lantern’s range of sight, padding softly around in the grass.

Around… around…

Then it stopped. And it started again, and this time they were padding toward me.

The ringing sound started up slowly. The footsteps were close by, getting nearer, right in front of me, but the person, or thing, wasn’t close enough for my light to see them yet.

“H-hello?” I whispered, no longer feeling brave in the slightest. I saw something small floating in the air in front of me, just a few feet away. After a moment, as it came just a little closer, I realized it was fingers. A hand. A small hand reaching out for me. Slowly getting closer.

It was so pale. The ringing sound grew louder. It changed tones, shifted up and down, almost as if, could it be? No way.

I felt the sudden urge to throw my lantern at this figure, turn around and run back in as fast as I could, snatch up my bag and go. But I told myself I wasn’t like the others. They’d always told me I was different, and now this was the time to prove it! I wasn’t going to be frightened by something like this. I couldn’t run away—I had to figure out what this was! If I didn’t, I’d spend the rest of my life wishing I’d waited just one more minute, wondering forever, and it would destroy me, not knowing.

“Hello?!” I called, my voice a tiny squeak. I felt silly sounding like that, but under the circumstances I’m sure it was understandable.

The ringing slowly shifted tones, pitch wavering up and down…it grew louder…was it really? It was.

It wasn’t ringing—it was a voice. A singing voice!

The voice of a young girl. “Laaaaaaaaaa, laaa laaaaaaaaaa laaaaaaaaaa – laaaaaaaaaa laaa laaaaaaaaaa…”

My voice caught in my throat. Not fear—it wasn’t fear this time. I wanted to cry.

She sounded so sad. So dejected. As if she were crying for help, and nobody would listen.

The fingers slowly lowered. The padding sound began to back away. Everyone else ran away by now, I realized. I haven’t run yet. I’ve surprised it. The sound shuffled away slowly, and the soft singing voice began to fade into a shrill ringing again as it slowly left me.

“Wait!” I cried.

The sound stopped receding, and then the voice came back. “Laaaaaaaaaa, laaa laaaaaaaaaa, laaa laaaaaaaaaa, laaaaaaaaaa…”

Such beautiful sounds…

It slowly came closer. This time it didn’t have to reach out. I raised my hand to it, and after a few seconds of hesitation, I felt the softness of delicate fingers sliding into mine, another hand gently gripping mine. I held it. And then the rest of the ghost came into view.

A girl about my age. Almost as tall as I was. But she was like nobody I’d ever seen before. She was so pale, and so beautiful. Her eyes were blue and shiny, and her hair was long and white-blond, and as a breeze blew it gently toward me, it tickled my face with the softness of silk.

Whoa. She was already that close. She stared at me, gazed into my eyes, as if studying me. But she looked so scared. Why was she scared? It’s not like I was going to hurt her. Could anyone even hurt her?

“Please,” she whispered, her voice coming with the wind and just as soft.

“Wh-what?” I croaked, trembling all over.

“Please don’t run away,” she pleaded. And then she started to cry. “Please.”

And suddenly, just like that, I understood everything.

I gently squeezed her hand in mine. “Never,” I promised her in just as soft a whisper. Her tears still flowed, but she managed to stop crying just for a moment, and looked at me again.

She really wasn’t sure if I would run away or not.

After all, hadn’t everyone else already run off by now? All run away, when all she needed was the presence of another human being, someone to talk to? Someone who would listen to her…

“You’re different,” she managed through her tears.

“I know,” I responded. Nobody else had considered she might be more than some haunting phantom. Everyone always did say I was different. Kind. Always there to listen to and sympathize with someone’s pain. Even with the ghostly terror she had initially given me, I realized it was just a test. Just to make sure I was the right one. If I could stay there through the fear, then I certainly could stay forever.

Forever?!

Yeah, I know. You probably don’t understand. But with the way she begged me, I really couldn’t resist. “Please stay with me,” she pleaded. And the way she begged me, the way she pleaded with her eyes, I knew she did mean forever.

“Always,” I promised her. She fell sobbing into my arms and laid her head on my shoulder. I held her, comforting her through her tears, her pain, and when she finally stopped crying, she looked up at me. Her face was tearstained, but she was beautiful no matter what.

She held my hand, and slowly led me further into the back yard. Further away from the rest of the world.

As I left with her, I kept thinking about the other guys at my high school. I remembered their scornful, laughing faces. How they teased me, called me afraid.

Yes, I remember them laughing. And then I remember them looking much different, stone-cold, terrified. But not once had they looked sympathetic for the ghost. They weren’t like me. They had always told me that.

To this day, I still don’t regret that I was different from them all. Because I cared, while they simply ran from fear. Because they just didn’t know.

They say she was a ghost, a scary thing trying to get them. But all she wanted was…was the right person. Now she knows she’s found that person—she found me. And nobody else ever knew what happened to me. Nobody knew where I’d gone, why I disappeared.

I don’t care. They ran from her. They all ran from Sammy (that’s her name). Because none of them knew, poor fellas.

They didn’t know…

They didn’t know she was just lonely.

Credit To – Kroney-2 (William)

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February 2015 Discussion Post: Favorite Creepypasta Genres & Topics

February 1, 2015 at 12:00 AM

In the past, I’ve asked for a lot of information about the community’s creepypasta preferences. We’ve discussed our least favorite creepypasta tropes, ranked the best and worst pasta categories, and talked about which pastas we believe are overrated and/or underrated. This month’s topic is a logical progression for that line of questioning:

Which topics and genres of creepypasta are your favorites?

For example, we’ve had a minor uptick in sci-fi submissions (this would be the genre) as of late, and I’ve seen a few people mentioning that they’re specifically enjoying the alien stories (and ‘aliens’ would be the topic). That would be the sort of information that I’m looking for with this question. Do you prefer reading about zombies? Or do you prefer post-apocalyptic fare without the z-word included? Do you always hope to see more pastas with a mythological bent? Or perhaps you’re more into the occult tales? I hope that you get the idea!

This is your chance to let both the aspiring writers that generate our content and myself know which genres and subjects you’d like to see appear more frequently on the site. So let us hear it!

As always: have fun, express yourself, but please keep it polite. Thanks!

The Swiss Apartment

January 31, 2015 at 12:00 AM
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Hello there, I’m writing this all down to try and warn international students about the dangers of studying abroad, and no, this is not some information piece about how you shouldn’t keep too much money on you or not taking rides from strangers. This is a warning of accepting deals that look too good to be true, and the consequences that can come with it. Now, I don’t mean to frighten any future or current international students, I just believe it is important to be aware so nothing like what happened to me that year abroad will ever happen to anyone again.

It was 10 years ago, in my second year of university. I had managed to pull off exceptional grades and was given a once in a lifetime opportunity to be a part of an international study program that was stationed in Geneva, Switzerland. To say the least, I was excited. Before my brain could catch up with itself, I was already packing my trunk and saying goodbyes. The travel and schooling arrangements had all been made but the program called for one job on my part. I had to find a place to stay. It was supposed to be part of the “living abroad” experience to be able to find and choose where you wanted to live, so long as you could afford it.

My family was a run of the mill middle class family, so this is where my friend Matt comes in. Matt and I had been friends since the first day of university and we were both taking most of the same classes. He had also been invited to Switzerland and was in the same financial boat as I was. Realizing we had to find somewhere to stay, it only made sense that we roomed together wherever we decided on so we could get a nicer place and just split rent. This is when we came across the apartment. It was just a 15-minute tram ride from the main train station in Geneva and had more than enough space for the two of us. Interestingly enough, the price of rent was the same as many smaller apartments in the area but we figured since it was listed as an old building, we would maybe just have some small “old building issues” to deal with and thus the lower rent.

Matt and I decided this would be our home for the next year, and with that we signed the contract. It wasn’t long until we were both on the 8-hour flight to Switzerland, the plane was cramped and the food wasn’t great so I was relieved when the plane finally touched down in Geneva. I remember the hot summer weather hitting me like a brick wall when we exited the airport. Matt and I grabbed a cab through the city centre and on to the area our apartment was in. The driver was a bit lost for a while but we managed to get our point across in our broken French to tell him where to go.

We found the apartment building among a long line of residences, this particular one looking more dated than most of the other ones in the row. This made me believe that the “old building issues” I had been thinking about was now coming to life. The landlord had sent us two keys, one for the each of us, in the mail prior to leaving. They were those old fashioned keys, like the ones that prison guards used to keep on a ring attached to their hip. Matt was the first into the building and deduced that there were only three apartments per floor, meaning that our apartment (number 6) was one flight of winding stairs above us. The key fit into the solid oak door of our apartment with a satisfying click and with a strained push, the heavy door opened.

The apartment was nice. There was one bathroom, one large bedroom for us to share, a full kitchen near the front of the space. It was surprisingly big, bigger than Matt and I had been expecting, but for the price we were renting it for, it couldn’t have been better. The bedroom had a bunk bed for us to rest our heads in, it brought me back to the time when I was young and had to share a bunk bed with my older brother. Matt won the coin toss and claimed the bottom bunk for himself since it was easier to get into after a night at the bars. Leaving me no other option, I quickly set up my sheets on the top bunk. About a week later, Matt and I had to start classes at our new school for a year. It wasn’t long until we found our routine and began our lives as temporary Swiss citizens.

It wasn’t long until everything went to hell.

One afternoon after our classes ended, Matt decided he was going to stay and study in the library with a local girl he had met. Not being one to break the bro code, I knew it was my time to leave so they could hangout. I decided to head back to the apartment to get some work done, mid-terms were coming up soon and I needed to get cracking on the homework that had built up. When I entered the apartment, the late afternoon sun had just begun to bathe every room in a warm golden light. I sat down at my work desk in the bedroom and before I knew it, it was time for me to make some dinner. The sun had gone down at this point and the darkness certainly didn’t take its time consuming all the light in the apartment. I turned on some of the lights and decided to make a box of Kraft Dinner for myself. This was a big deal since you couldn’t get it anywhere Europe.

As I stood at the stove stirring, a strange feeling washed over my body like I had just been drenched in ice-cold water. It was the feeling of being watched. It felt different though; this wasn’t the same feeling as when your friend stares daggers at you in class to mess with you. This felt angry, evil. It felt like something did not want me in this apartment. I spun around at the stove and sure enough, there was nothing in the kitchen with me. Being the paranoid man that I am, I checked each room of the apartment, the awful feeling following me everywhere I went. Of course the search yielded no explanation, I was alone in the apartment as far as I could tell. Feeling stressed and a bit silly, I went outside into the corridor of the building for a smoke. I didn’t smoke often but Matt and I would have one to celebrate every once in a while.
Matt came home not more than 15-minutes later to me listening to music in the outside corridor. He asked why I was out there and I just made up some story of needing fresh air and the open-air hallway seemed like the perfect spot. I followed Matt in once he opened the door and oddly enough, the awful feeling was gone. Matt could smell the KD I had cooked and was visibly jealous, that’s when I remembered I hadn’t actually eaten it because I was busy with my apartment investigation. A quick zap in the microwave fixed the KD and we both chowed down. I casually asked Matt if he had been enjoying the apartment, to which he responded with an enthusiastic yes. I then asked him if he had experienced anything strange while in the apartment to which he responded with a thoughtful no. So he hadn’t felt anything like I had tonight, maybe I was just tired from school and freaked myself out. On the other hand though, the experience had genuinely frightened me, and I knew what I felt was real.

Over the next couple of weeks, the feeling came back, more than once. I figured out the only times that I would feel the gaze of something that wanted to hurt me was when I was in the apartment alone, once Matt was in the place with me the feeling would soon vanish. I had stayed late at school one Friday night to study, I had been trying to avoid being in the apartment unless necessary as much as possible, when I received a phone call. Matt called and asked when I would be home; when I asked why he responded saying he was just curious. I told him I’d be home as fast as possible. Matt must have felt it.

When I arrived at the apartment, Matt asked me to step outside for a smoke. While we were out there having our smoke he brought up our conversation from before.

“I think I know why you asked me if anything strange has happened to me. I felt this evil presence following me throughout the apartment, it freaked me out man” he shakily said while taking a drag of his cigarette.

My blood ran cold, so he had felt what I had felt. What could be the source of all this? Ghosts? I was never much of a believer but Matt was shaken up, we decided to not leave each other alone in the apartment for as long as it takes to figure this all out. During the next week, things got worse. Now the malefic gaze would be on us even if we were just in different rooms in the apartment. Just entering the place would send feelings of dread throughout my body. One night as I passed the full-length mirror just outside of our bedroom, something moved out of my peripheral vision and out of view. It looked like a gaunt, black shape slinking in the reflection of the family room, but alas when I did a double take, the figure was gone. I was starting to think the apartment was making me loony.

Things kept up like this for a couple months, Matt and I were frightened of what was happening in our home away from home, yet we were determined to stay as the rent was low and the apartment itself was quite nice. I also had made a discovery in the mean time. The presence was especially strong in the walk-in closet that was attached to Matt and I’s bedroom. Matt even swore he heard a quiet growling within the closet. We shrugged that off however, because the building was so old it probably had a rational explanation such as old pipes.
We were so naïve. Stupid really, we should have left after that discovery. Yet we stayed, torturing ourselves, and ended up putting ourselves through the worst kind of hellish experience one could ever imagined.

One night, around 2am, I awoke in my bunk feeling very groggy. The air in the bedroom felt heavy and ominous, like some impending doom was on the horizon. Suddenly, I felt uneasy and became aware that the presence was there. Even with Matt in the room, who was just underneath me in the bottom bunk. I worked up the courage to lift and turn my head toward the room, looking for the source of this presence who I felt would love nothing more than to kill Matt and me. My eyes felt drawn toward the walk-in closet on the opposite side of the room. My instincts were telling me I was starting to home in on our unwanted guest. I took a long hard stare at the closet door, which was slightly ajar.

What I didn’t expect was for the closet to be staring back at me.

Between the door and the wall was a single eye, devoid of any iris or pupil, making eye contact with me. It was like a white void piercing the dark abyss. A lump rose in my throat as I tried to scream but just as I found my voice the door closed. The door closed. As in some outward force had shut it. Matt awoke with a startle when he heard me scream.

The closet was the home of the evil and whatever I had seen was the evil presence that Matt and I had been afraid of all these months. During a Sunday afternoon, we entered the closet with armed with crowbars and paint-scrapers; we were going to tear this room apart until we found some answers. The walls revealed nothing but old wooden walls that were a bit rotten in places.

The floor was the final straw for that cursed apartment.

We tore up the floorboards and exposed a small hole in the floor, one big enough that we could fit down it one at a time, assuming we actually wanted to go down there. By this point the sun had set and the apartment was starting to get dark. I couldn’t help but feel sick when I looked at that hole, my body and mind were screaming at me to leave now but I needed to see this to the end. Matt and I psyched ourselves up and entered the hole. The drop was probably 7 feet, but a rickety wooden ladder we found in the laundry room fixed that problem. Matt went first and I followed after as soon as his feet touched the dirt floor below.
The smell was the first thing to hit me. It hit me like a truck full of bricks as soon as I took the first ladder rung down. I knew what rotten flesh smelled like, and this was intense even for that horrible of a scent. It was nothing short of a miracle that it never penetrated the apartment. Matt was already retching on the floor as I managed to bring my shirt over my nose. The hole turned out to be a small room. We needed a source of light to properly see our surroundings and thankfully Matt had brought a flashlight. After turning it on we could finally see what we were dealing with. Truth be told I didn’t want to know what we were dealing with.

The flashlight flickered to life. My eyes were instantly assaulted by images of rotting animal corpses, strewn about the room as if a predator had made its home here. Ancient runes adorned the walls, I couldn’t tell what they meant or what they were supposed to do. In the centre of the room however, was an etched pentagram on the floor. I knew enough about the occult because of the supernatural research I had been doing on the side for the past few months to know that this was a demonic symbol. As Matt approached the middle of the room I got the feeling that something was very, very wrong. We were never supposed to see this. The evil presence was here and so strong it felt like a physical being inside the room. I told Matt we were leaving this room now and we started to ascend the ladder. I knew why something felt so wrong, even more wrong than the disturbing scene we discovered beneath our apartment.

Our apartment is on the second floor.

Matt and I reached the top of the hole and opened the closet door into our bedroom.

Where it was waiting for us.

The creature I had seen in the mirror, the one staring at me from the closet, the thing that was scaring Matt and I with its presence for months, was now right in the middle of our room. It stood at about 6 feet tall; its gaunt, black body had arms of the same length that twisted into menacing claws. Its shapeless face had two, unblinking white eyes that seemed to stare daggers through your very soul. The demon had two slits instead of a nose and below it there was a massive mouth; filled with razor sharp teeth and contorted into a hideous smile.

We were both frozen in fear; I felt tears well up in my eyes as I heard Matt whimper a single, helpless word.

“Fuck.”

We slowly backed toward the door and the creature got down on all fours and began to move with immense speed. Its joints cracked sickeningly as they moved. Matt and I took this as a cue to get the lead out and we bolted out the bedroom door, slamming it behind us. I could hear the thing slashing at the wood as we both clambered out of the apartment. I locked the heavy oak door at the entrance to keep it trapped inside. As I threw the key off the edge of the building, I could hear its raspy breathing from inside the apartment followed by a quiet cackle as it slinked back into the confines of its cage. As we waited for a cab to pick us up outside, I took one last look at our apartment. Sure enough, the creature was sitting in the window staring down at us with its disgusting smile. Matt and I got in the cab and never looked back.

We got a moving crew to collect our things for us, there was no way we were going back in that place. Of course they never found a hole in the closet, the only thing that was out of the ordinary was our bedroom door, one worker said it was if one of us had taken a scythe to it. We moved to a house that was up for rent across town, and I did my research on the place before moving there. All was fine for the rest of the year and Matt and I completed our year abroad. We are still good friends to this day except we made a pact. To never talk about what we saw that day. Even thinking about it now could give me nightmares.

I had half a mind to go back and torch the place after. I never do though because getting near that place on its own is asking for trouble. I can’t imagine that any poor bastard that moved in after us made it any longer than we did. Whatever was in that apartment was pure evil, summoned from god knows who or what.

I believe it’s my duty to tell people who plan to study abroad to DO THEIR RESEARCH. If something feels like it’s too good to be true, it probably is. If something feels off with your new home, it’s probably not just your imagination. There are evil things in this world, things that want to frighten, maim or kill any mortal within their grasp.

And sometimes all it takes is a really good deal to put you in grave danger.

Credit To – Spencer Slaney

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