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The Old Warehouse Hotel Down In New Orleans

July 3, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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When I was younger I used to work as a night auditor for a very popular hotel chain in New Orleans. This particular hotel was once an old warehouse in the Central Business District. It had a long history that dated back to the Underground Railroad where tunnels built throughout the building were used to secretly lead slaves to boats on the Mississippi River. When the hotel owners started to demo the property to convert it into a hotel, they found old distillery equipment used during the prohibition days. The building was saturated in fantastic and interesting history.

I was told that during the renovation a decision was made to keep much of the existing brick and woodwork. This gave the hotel an intriguing historic and warehouse feel to it. While it hadn’t been occupied in nearly 40 years, the guts of the building were amazingly in great shape. It had such an interesting vibe and New Orleans is known for attracting the most interesting of guests for Mardi Gras and JazzFest. I loved it there, until the night I quit.

It was close to 3:30am when one of the guests stumbled in with a woman who frequented the hotel as a “guest” of our guests. She was one of the unspoken of perks that our concierge desk would provide when requested by only the most distinguished of guests. An incredibly beautiful, tall black woman, Diamond never had a problem getting work and she tipped us at the front desk, security and the concierge incredibly well for turning a blind eye to her activities. Being a professional flirt and me being bored out of my mind most nights, we often found ourselves having conversations when she finished her “shift.” The stories she would share with me to this day still boggle my simple mind.

Being that she had “worked” in the hotel longer than I had, she would tell me these stories about a certain row of spa suites that were visible from where I stood at the front desk up to the mezzanine. She mentioned how strange things would happen in those rooms when she or one of her girlfriends would visit them at night with at client. They were strange things like shadows, moving objects, flickering lights, and voices. I always took it as her showing off her art of storytelling and the fact she knew I often worked the desk alone at night; a point she often made when failing to meet her personal quota for the night.

On the night I quit, however, she was not her usual self. Fact of the matter is I didn’t even speak with her that night or any night thereafter. The last time I saw her she was running naked and screaming right out of the front door of the hotel. I remember hearing her first, through one of the spa suite rooms on the mezzanine. When I looked up to investigate the location of the sounds, I saw her hurl open the door of room M106 and watched her haul ass down the glass-walled hallway, down the stairs, and out to the street. I just stood there watching her in the shock and awe of the moment. Here was this voluptuous woman flopping all about, screaming, petrified and covered in something and all I could do was gawk. The moment she ran out of my sight, I sobered up and immediately gazed up at the open door of room M106.

After staring up at the wide open entrance of the room on the mezzanine for about a minute, my stomach dropped every time I saw a shadow change within the room. Soon, Bill, the lone security guard on duty, whipped around the corner from the back office area where he often took naps and quickly started asking me questions. Her screams woke him up. I pointed up to the room and tried to explain to him what had happened. He immediately called the police for backup and per protocol we both started to make our way up to the mezzanine level, eyes transfixed on the open door waiting for the drunken man to stumble out of the room. As we reach the hallway, other guests started peeping their heads out of their rooms to see what the commotion was about. We quietly hushed them back into their rooms for their own safety.

As we approached the doorway, Billy pulled out his gun and called out to the guest. There was no response, but we started to hear a very audible humming sound, almost like a rapid buzzing. When we entered the suite we could see the king size bed at the end of the hallway. This was one of the smaller spa suites that had a bed, an armoire with a TV, a desk and a jet-spa bathtub cattycorner to the bed. The bed was unkempt but empty and we couldn’t see the rest of the room from the hallway. So we moved closer in and with ever step the humming began to get louder and the shadows on the walls seemed to be floating back and forth like they were waves in the ocean.

I called out again to see if we could get an answer but we did not. We moved closer to the edge of the hallway, slowly and terrified. That’s when we began to see them. The cause of the shadow was everywhere and on everything. They seemed to blanket the entire room, on the bed, on the walls, in the air. Then we turned the corner.

Under the heat lamp above the bathtub spa there it was; a huge tent-sized swarm of angry and hungry termites. In the tub laid our naked guest, covered in termites, being devoured by termites. His body was marked by broken wings and small drill holes all along his skin. His eyes partially liquefied from the incessant digging of the termites. This once portly white man was reduced to a shade of red, brown and gray of crawling skin. The sight and swarm made it unbearable to stay and Bill and I ran out of the room, tripping over each other in our haste.

When the police arrived, they turned off the lights to the room and the swarm almost vanished instantly into the old wood beams that lined the room. A blanket of dead pests covered the room and the crunch I remember hearing as we walked through the room haunts me to this day. I was told Diamond suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome after the incident. She supposedly said that the man started to get very rough with her and that a shadow floated out of the cracks of the wood and startled the guest. He fell back into the tub and that’s when the swarm manifested itself. The cause of death was a traumatic brain injury, but it wasn’t from the fall, it was from the nesting of the termites.

To this day you can still rent room M106 at the old warehouse hotel down in New Orleans. It is just under a different number.

Credit To – StupidDialUp

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July 2, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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The tipper tapper of a finger echoes through the small dark room.
Sometimes even whispers bounce off the walls from other rooms,
whispers that do not make sense to me.
I would hear things like, “Stop it, he’ll see us”
and “Quickly, don’t trust him”
or just the moans of torment and despair.

Living your past over and over again, until your end.
Then you’re back in the white room, and the flashbacks of people’s departure move on to the next dorm. Sometimes a death is so horrific, shrieks of agony seep through the thin layer of walls that separate all of us.

It upsets me sometimes, hearing the pain and sorrow of others, so I block my ears and close my eyes tight so they don’t see me crying. That’s what they want, they laugh at us.
Hysterical laughter echoes round the rooms, like being bullied in a playground, being surrounded by people who laugh at you and pick on you. That’s what it feels like. I’m not going to give them the satisfaction. As the screams get more disturbing and agonized, the hysterical laughter gets louder
and darker.

When a toddler throws a tantrum and you ignore them, you think they would stop, but they don’t,
they try harder and harder until you give in. That is what these sick people do.
Whenever I ignore or try fight my senses and vision not to blur into my past,
they begin to get angry and impatient. You can hear them grunting or sometimes they just go completely quiet. As they do, they try to make your past more enhanced and scary until you give in to their little game.

So let me give you some advice, when you die, calmly walk to the light in front of you.
Don’t stop, even if you get weak or weary, do not stop until you reach the light.
Ignore the person breathing down your neck, persuading you to turn back.
No matter how much he sounds like your dead father.
Ignore him.


Credit To – JJ Wilton

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The Unbirth

July 1, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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I had always questioned whether or not I truly believed in the paranormal, and sometimes I wished that I would have stayed strictly to my stubborn attitude. However, that was not the case a month ago. The event that I want to inform people about has shook my grounded reality like an earthquake, and has also ruptured my former co-workers’ reality as well. This was not the first time I had experienced something odd and otherworldly, but it certainly did provide a new reality for myself, and others who have experienced the same kind of paranormal occurrences. Various occurrences had occurred in my city, as well as in the suburban areas, but now it has elevated to the point where I have to tell people about it. I have to make sure I am not alone, and that I am not going crazy. I hope that someone from my city will recognize the report. If so, then you will know where to find me. I had been at my job for about a month when the first incident had happened.

The Report
Date: 4/15/13
I had just finished doing some work as staff support at a psychiatric institute in my city, and was on a dinner break making light out of some of the day’s struggles. I knew that I had a long night ahead of me, so I had packed some supplies for the night including a small book to read, a snack or two, and whatever games I had on my phone; I worked a double shift that day, and quite honestly I never got used to them. I got back to my desk and took up reading my book for a while, as most of the patients were asleep and did not need to be taken care of at the late hours.
It got to be around midnight when one of the little girls, who had suffered from an anxiety disorder (specifically post traumatic stress disorder) was dancing around in the hall laughing. I was on the fifth floor and she was supposed to be down on third; the third floor was for children with anxiety issues. I heard her laugh echo down the hall almost hauntingly, and so I got up from my desk and went over to where the laughter was coming from so she would not wake up the other patients. I walked down the long and dimly lit hallway; the silence of my footsteps clapped softly as I quickened my pace.
Seeing the girl dancing around as carelessly as she was, I would never assume that she had suffered from an anxiety disorder. She danced in front of the closed stairwell and suddenly stopped and looked around her aimlessly as if she had misplaced something. For confidentiality, her name will be the pseudonym “Claire.” My conversation with Claire went somewhat like this:
Me: “Hey there. What are you doing up here this late?”
Claire: “Have you seen my friends?”
Me: “What were you doing with your friends?”
Claire: “We was playing, but I lost them.” She continues to look around the hallway.
Me: “Can you tell me what they looked like?”
Claire: “White!” she exclaims while searching in the most remote places.
Me: “Is that all? How about their face?”
Claire: “Uhm…. Two big eyes and a small mouth. They all look the same. They got scared because they thought you were going to yell at them.”
By this time I had about enough, and walked her down back to where her room was on the third floor. I said goodnight to her and she slept fairly well, but myself I sat anxious because I had seen too many movies with little girls being an evil spirit. I spoke with the worker at the desk on the third floor who had no idea Claire had snuck out. I thought I heard laughing from the stairwell again, but I thought it was just the other children that were awake. Someone else could handle it. That was around 1:30 AM and everything from there remained normal except for the tiny white footprints marking up the floor where the girl had been dancing. The footprints were tiny, chalky white, and disappeared at the slightest gust of wind like powder. I cleaned those prints up quickly and thought someone must have been using too much foot powder. Although, no had feet that tiny in my workplace. I often wondered why I never heard Claire and the other children playing before I walked over. I should have heard them scatter.

Date: 4/17/12
On this day I was called into another night shift due to one of the other interns not wanting to work the night shift anymore. She had worked it the same night as myself, and the night after that when I was off. Tonight, I would take her place on the third floor.
I sat quietly at my desk and talked on and off with some of my other co-workers who would bring up the events of the previous nights. I was too afraid to think about paranormal occurrences because it had always freaked me out, but this time it seemed to fit the mood and be more of a joke to my co-workers. So I participated for once and talked with them about the occurrences. I asked my fellow co-worker, Nate (a pseudonym), what made the girl from last night not want a night shift again. Our conversation was very odd:
Nate: “Well it seemed to me that she didn’t want to talk. She just sat there doing nothing. I’m glad she isn’t here. She never helps us control the kids.”
Me: “Ok so what? She just sat there not doing anything?”
Nate: “Pretty much. I mean, until she began to pace up and down the halls. Then I got a bit annoyed.”
Me: “What did she say was bothering her?”
Nate: “She wouldn’t tell me. I made a slight noise once and she jumped out of her seat. She kept giving me angry looks after that. Then later, she stood absolutely still and refused to move until day break. She refused to interact with the kids then.”
Nate looked up from his seat, and saw Claire and another boy move from their rooms into the hallway. He got up from his seat quickly to talk to them, and then he kindly moved them back into their rooms. It was at that moment when I heard the sound from the night before.
Around 11:00 PM a large crash was heard down the hall, and then some children’s laughter followed it. I told Nate that I would handle it, and jogged down the hall to go see what trouble the children were causing, or if someone was hurt. I had walked around the entire hall until I reached the stairwell, but I could not find the source of the crash or the children. I peered inside each room on my floor and found nothing suspicious. Then I went over toward one of the storage rooms and tried to open the door. It would not budge; someone must have pushed the filing cabinet over, blocking the door.
Nate came over and helped me slowly shove the door open, and found the place to be a complete mess. Nate wanted to look for the children who did this, but the fact of the matter was that they would have had to done the act from the inside trapping them. The filing cabinet was so close to the door so that no one, especially a child, could slip out without injuring themselves in the process, or having themselves stuck in the room. As we had finished cleaning the room we began to hear the children laugh again from down the hall. He walked out and saw the double door to the Eastern stairwell close. I never remembered hearing footsteps outside the storage room.
I ran down the hall to the stairwell on the opposite side of the hallway and hurried down the steps. Nate went down the stairwell closest to where he was to try and catch them mid-escape. I swear I saw a figure moving down the steps, and so I went all the way down until I could not go down any further. I was now at the bottom floor and was left with only my own heart beat to listen to. There was a single door at the bottom with a small, square, and black window placed in the center of it. The door down here was locked tight, but I peered into the small glass window to try and see anything I could. It was just a black void in that room. Then a small white faced creature flew up like lightning in front of the window and I jumped back. I gasped took several deep breathes to try and hold myself together. That creature left in image of it in my head which glowed an eerie white glow and smiled at me. I could not tell what gender it was, but I still heard the muffled laughter of the children coming from that bottom room. The laughter was neither male nor female, but I mixture between the two that sounded distorted.
I made my way back upstairs and had to get some water before seeing Nate again. He asked me if I had found anything, but I told him I found nothing and lost the trail. The rest of the night I spent thinking about what I had seen. I was too scared to talk to it about anyone, and I was also too scared to speak in general. I could only remember that image in my head, and some of the odd files that had spilt over in the storage room. Some of the files were missing when I went back in the get them despite the room still a mess. I never asked Nate about the missing files.

Date: 4/19/12
Thank god I had a day-time shift this day, or else I may have had extreme anxiety about working at night again. I needed a break; I needed someone to talk to. The day before, I had heard about some of the nurses complaining about the children who were fooling around late at night, or possibly one of the adult patients. They had vandalized some furniture as well drew on some of the walls writing unreadable words and profanities.
I came into work and saw Claire again as well as a few other times on my rotation. She drew me a picture of her friends that I had asked her about earlier in the week. I thought the worry that was swelling inside of me would stop by working in the day time, but I was wrong. The picture Claire drew me was of her holding hands with a bunch of other humanoid creatures. The creatures looked similar to the being I had seen in the window of the basement floor door two days ago. A rounded face with a semi pointed head, and a tiny body; two round dark eye holes and a tiny smile on their mouth; two arms and legs that had tiny fingers and toes; the creatures were devoid of any other human features that can distinguish it from another being. She drew some in a wave-like motion that made it seem like they were drifting in the air like a feather. I took this to show some of the other workers, but they said the girl (Claire) had suffered from slight hallucinations as of lately. One worker, and middle-aged woman, said she will deal with the situation thoroughly. I thought the woman was a very nice, but apparently (from what I learned later) she treated the younger children rather poorly. She treated Claire very poorly, but never physically abused her.
I did not sleep well knowing that just a few others have seen the ghostly creatures about the building, and also that Claire was being treated poorly. I did not toss or turn in the night, but laid still, twitching at the slightest noise. I tried doing research on these creatures to ease my mind, but found nothing that would calm me. That was the first “all-nighter” I had pulled since college.

Date: 4/22/12
I came back on Monday to do my weekly night shift again. I had just eaten my dinner as usual and was just about comfortable knowing that no accounts of the creatures have been seen over the weekend. However, that comfort was ruined when Nate had told me one of the other workers (the middle aged woman) had tripped and fallen down the the eastern stairwell of the institute.
The East side was the same stairwell was where I had first seen the creature. It was believed that she had tripped down the stairwell and somehow had fallen to the basement floor. My mouth hung open while I listened to this story in disbelief. They had found her all bruised up and nearly dead at the bottom. Someone made up a rumor that she was dragged to the bottom because there were finger nail markings on the rubber flooring of the staircase as on the walls which showed signs of struggle. An investigation had already been done and no traces of foul play were seen despite her body being mangled and twisted from the fall.
It was a little bit after 8:00 PM when I heard that an older person on the fifth floor had passed away due to heart failure. I was not responsible for those incidents, but I did have to clean up the room after they had checked out the body and tried to resuscitate it. I walked up to the room after they cleared me to go in and clean and take out personal items and put them in a bag. A couple others were in the patient’s room while I was cleaning it up. That was when we saw the terrifying awe of what was in front of us.
A bright glow had appeared from behind me while I was clearing out the bottom cabinets on the other side of the room from the body. I turned around thinking that another nurse had turned a lamp on me. I never could have been more wrong. The dead man’s soul was hovering above their dead lifeless body trying to push on its chest. The scene looked like there were two of the same people in the room, and the one hovering horizontally trying to re-connect with the other. The soul did something odd to try (as I believe) and restart the body’s physiological functions. We all saw the dead body sit up straight, head toward the floating soul, and scream at the top of its lungs an ear piecing scream. Its eyes were black and its body was stiff as a board while it jerked at its torso in a way that brought tears to my eyes. The soul screamed the same ear splitting scream as the body did, and a large bang was heard while a flash of light illuminated the room, blinding everyone. When we all could see again, there stood a small creature on the bed where the soul and the dead body used to be. It was the creature from Claire’s pictures.
The creature floated there looking very solemn and lonely. It did not smile like the others. It floated like a cloud in the air from the bed onto the floor, near to where I was on the ground. I half covered my eyes with my forearm because I did not want to look at it. It floated out of the room and down the hallway. We all followed after it. It went down into the Eastern stairwell and down the steps.
I went downstairs to the very bottom and opened up the door that led to the dark room; it was now unlocked. Inside, the creatures stood floating amongst many others of their own kind. Some laughed, some moaned a small tone, others just sighed a ghostly sigh. They hovered up and down slowly and lazily. The room was entirely black and only the creatures could be seen. I closed the door and stood there holding the door shut with tears filling my eyes. A few other workers came down with one of the doctors, pushed me aside, and moved into the dark room. They just stared into the darkness for a while, and then turned the lights on. I saw very little to what was actually in the room, but I felt a rush of wind come from the room as the lights went on. That was the last time I had seen those creatures.
The doctor turned and looked at me, but I never dared to speak to him. In his arm were the same files that had been lying on the floor from the previous week. I began to walk up the stairwell, after the doctor had rushed back up them, and found a small photograph of the creature taken in an infrared light. The doctor knew something that I did not. I wish I could have seen his entire face, but I was too scared to concentrate on him.

I want to conclude by saying the “Unbirths,” the creatures in the report, are dangerous only when provoked like a child who has been scolded. I do feel better knowing that I am not completely alone, but I also do feel more slightly on edge. I watch my back every now and then when I am in the city. The doctor knew something more than I had known. The photograph went missing after that night, and I had not been able to trace it whereabouts. What the Unbirths truly are is not my main priority. My main priority at this time is to find out what the doctor is really up to. Some of the workers seem to be in on it as well. I have since moved on to another job that I will not disclose to the public due to my investigation. I have also found out that the doctor had moved on from his work at the institute, and transferred to one of the main hospitals in the city. Some of my old co-workers say that he is a traveling doctor.

Credit To – J.A.L

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July 2013 Discussion Post: What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie?

July 1, 2013 at 12:00 AM

Remember a few months ago when I asked for your favorite creepy video games? I’d mentioned that I planned to do similar posts for books, movies, and maybe even television shows and music – and since July means that a lot of you have the free time of summer break to spend watching creepy movies, that’s what we’ll talk about this month.

Just like last time:

As people suggest their favorites, I’ll turn this OP into a master list of the community’s favorite spooky movies (with links to download or buy said games if possible).

Thanks for the help, and have fun!

For the most part, I’ll be linking to the Amazon instant video version when possible (our ref link is included, so as always – if you decide to purchase/stream any of these movies via these links, thank you so much!) to make it easier for those of you who want immediate gratification.

For series, I am linking the sequels by their numerical position in the series, not their title. This is just to make the list cleaner and easier to navigate since some of these series have quite a few entries under their belts!

For movies that are remakes of, for example, Asian horror, I will list the two versions side by side (assuming that I’m aware of the remake/original status, of course). I will usually put the English name first, since that’s how most people are calling them in the comments.

Please click the “read more” button to see the full list below the cut!

Object Permanence

June 30, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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Lately I have been questioning the reality of things around me.

I can sure identify where it started, and where it came from, but I just can’t get it out. An idea cannot be killed; you may try to not think about it or distract yourself, but it is there, and it will always be there. Now, if you would like to hear a bit about me, just sit tight for a brief prelude. At a young age, I was like any other normal boy, except for one little hindrance. I grew up, attended school, went to college, and graduated, all with good, if not exceptional grades. I swam, participated in clubs, you name it. I used to be a very active and healthy guy. The ’hindrance’ grew with me. The doctors call it myopia, the kids at school call it glasses, I call it bad luck and genetics.

Well, whatever you call it, I was stuck with it, and it stuck with me. It started with a slight blurriness, then became a wall of impassibility. Surgery helped me slightly, but in the long run, just prolonged my fate.

Eventually I had the misfortune of coming down with eye cataracts. The surgery this time was damning. Retinal detachment, occurring when the retina literally detaches itself from the eye, can lead from severe myopia to blindness. In my case, it led to blindness at the age of 18.

Now, blindness meant several things to me. A dark point in my life, both literally and figuratively. I imagined that I was in a hole, a black place where no light shined. I existed there alone, in pure isolation. Sure, they could peer down into the hole and talk from their bright place above me, but they could not see. They could pretend, but they couldn’t comprehend what I was going through. I used to drink heavily and experiment with substances in order to dampen my perception.

When you have that much detachment from the outside world, you begin to think.

Imagine you are in a room. There is a ball in the room. You look at it, and it is red, hard to the touch, and bounces with a satisfying thud. Now if you leave it placed down on the floor, and walk out of the room, facing the opposite direction, you cannot see, hear or touch it anymore.

What evidence do you have that it still exists?

Infants go through this in their lives, due to their pre-developed minds. I am sure we are all familiar with the game of ‘peek-a-boo’? Well, when the child see’s its mother, it is aware it exists, but when the hands come down, where did mother go? She disappeared, and because the baby cannot perceive her, it firmly believes that she does not exist.

Now apply this concept to us. Growing up, our brain develops, and we innately know that an object continues to exist. It is something we learn to accept. However, when you are alone in your room at night, the world outside does not matter. We are secluded in our own little world, and only the immediate area is tangible. Now imagine that the darkness envelopes your entire life. You cannot see what is around you, so what proof do you have that it truly exists? Sure you can touch and hear and smell and taste, but how do you know you are not being manipulated? We have developed technology such as the television, which can create a world that exists in your field of vision. While watching it, our mind becomes absorbed in it, and we zone out from our surroundings. Our subconscious makes us believe that we exist in that world for a time, and when the movie ends, we snap back into reality. We have created a means to manipulate vision, so why is that concept not applicable to our immediate world? Nowadays, every person that I pass may greet me with a hello or brush by me, and while I can feel them and hear them, how do I know they exist? How can I be absolutely sure that every single person and thing around me is living? Has a conscious and a mind like I do?

I used to try making myself feel to cement the outside world. Experiencing pain through sharp tools. However, this never worked out for me. It was just a mere interlude, after which I grasped the full nature of my surroundings.

I believe this thought has taken over my mind. A sort of obsession. Though I doubt I am wrong. I spend my time isolated here in my room. All is quiet. I know that the floor in front of me extends about four feet, and the one behind me 6 or so feet. I know the carpet is soft yet scratchy, smells damp. Possible mold here and there. The air seeping in is cold, and yet I know none of these things. There is no world outside of here. As I move throughout my house, I believe that my surroundings are a mirage. They only exist when I am around them to give them a physical existence.

I feel as if I am in a grand sort of surreal play. The set is created around me as I go through the scenes. The characters appear and disappear, play different roles, but only ones that relate immediately to mine.

I feel as if the universe is trying to keep me occupied. Or maybe I am all that exists. Maybe each and every one that comes to visit me under the premise of hospitality, or the structural safety of my home, or investigation, or for, ‘my own benefit’, is coming to get a spark of life, or a glimpse of living. Of experiencing.

One time I tried communicating with the actors, trying to get a feel of the depth of their minds. You see, I could believe that they exist just like me, however, something in my mind denies it. If a child can be deceived by something as small as hands, then what says that I should not be deceived by this world too? I grew up with ‘people’ around me. Everyone did. They accept this and do not question it. Especially with my once premature mind, what stipulates that I should not be tricked? I recognized this midway through my interrogation with one and left him out in the shed in the backyard. He was too weak to plead, however I doubt he suffered much. I shut the door, walked upstairs and he ended. All was quiet.

Now more of them have come and searched my home. Police, a figment of my imagination that I once respected. I suppose I can not fully dictate the flow of my environment, as they were able to capture me. Take me to another room. Concrete floors.

They allow me to write. However I doubt that my handwriting is much legible anymore. I write this now to whom it may concern in order to help you grasp the truth.

Perhaps there are those of you who are like me. Perhaps nothing exists beyond the exit door. Either way. I am confined here, as I have always been.

Nothing has changed.

Credit To – Dirk

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Admin Update 6/29/2013 – Next Submission Period & Special Circumstances

June 29, 2013 at 6:03 AM

If you are waiting on a reply for a submission or are planning on submitting come July 1, please read this. JUMP TO THE BOTTOM TO SEE UPDATES.

As some of you have already surmised by what I’ve said over on Crappypasta and my limited activity in the various comments sections recently, I’ve been busy and haven’t been able to give the site as much attention as usual. That said, I’m still on here every day moderating comments and getting pastas scheduled, so on that front you guys won’t notice any difference.

For those of you who are worried, yes, submissions will still reopen on July 1. HOWEVER, I have to make a special request for those of you who submitted during the last period but have not yet received a response: PLEASE HOLD OFF ON RESUBMITTING YOUR PASTA UNTIL I AM ENTIRELY FINISHED WITH THE QUEUE.

Basically, I am still not done with the batch of submissions from the last period. I’m hoping to be done within the first week or July – my tentative self-imposed deadline is July 8 – but I’ll be hoping to finish sooner. That’s why I’m asking that, if you submitted during the last open submission period and still have not received a response, DO NOT RESUBMIT THAT SAME PASTA. There’s a chance that I still haven’t gotten to the original submission – or simply haven’t gotten around to posting it on Crappypasta if that’s where it’s headed – and there’s absolutely no need for you to add multiple copies of a submission to the queue.

When I am done, I will make another announcement letting you guys know that I’ve finished and that it’s okay to send in your resubmits if you checked yes on crappypasta but still didn’t receive any response. Only then should you resubmit pastas if you still haven’t heard from me. 

Remember, if you checked NO on crappypasta, no response means that your pasta was not accepted and you DEFINITELY should not resubmit unless you’ve made rewrites. This is outlined in the FAQ. I’m tired of having the queue cluttered up by people ignoring this and sending resubmit after resubmit when they don’t make any changes and don’t check yes for crappypasta. Of course, I’m also tired of people getting placed on crappypasta and resubmitting the same rejected pasta over and over – I don’t always immediately catch this just because I read so many submissions that sometimes it’s hard to discern when I’m having deja vu because it’s a cliche or if it’s because I’ve actually read it before, but the readers over there are very good about noticing repeats. They’ll let me know and you’ll be banned. TL;DR – stop resubmitting if you haven’t actually rewritten. 

Of course, the exception to the “no resubmits until I’m done” rule is if you’ve entirely rewritten an old submission. In that case, please follow the rules outlined in the FAQ and I will delete your old submission and only read the new version. I’m not going to bother explaining that whole process again since you should have all read the FAQ before submitting… right?

Completely new pastas and rewrites of pastas that were already posted to Crappypasta are the only things you should be submitting from July 1 until I say otherwise.

I’m leaving comments closed on this announcement because I don’t want any of you to be tempted to ask me for individual pasta status reports. That is still not acceptable. If you ignore this and send a Contact Us request asking if I’ve read your pasta yet, expect your submission to be deleted as per the rules.

Thanks for your time and understanding.


Edit 7/1: The publishers of the plugin we use to handle submissions just happened to release an update for said plugin today. Unfortunately, the automatic upgrade function wasn’t cooperating for some unknown reason, so I had to wait until I was home to manually upgrade and look over what had changed before submissions could be opened. Most of you were very patient while I was dealing with this, so thank you.

Edit 7/16: All submissions from last period have been read and sorted. Unfortunately, a solid 80% – if not more – of submissions were either trolls, rejected/no on crappypasta, flat-out rejects due to bannable/offensive content, or are waiting their crappypasta posting. This has created a unique situation:

  • I am having to read ahead in order to simply get a pasta per day published on the main site, and this is my priority. I don’t even work on posting stuff to crappypasta until I’ve found a pasta decent enough to go on the main site. This means that if it takes me a few hours just to find a pasta to schedule for the next day, I won’t have time to deal with any crappypasta posting/emailing because I need to eat, sleep, etc. So newly posted pastas on the main site are actually from the July 2013 period already; the last submission period did not have enough decent pastas for me to schedule far enough ahead that I could take any time off from looking for new pastas to focus on getting the rejected pastas in order.
  • Crappypasta readers have also made it clear that they prefer I don’t do massive spams of posts, so that they have time to read and critique each pasta. This means that I can’t dump pastas every single day in huge quantities. Rather, I will keep up the normal pace of 15-20 every few days and simply email people ahead of time who have been queued to end up on crappypasta. Once this is done, I’ll give the go-ahead for people to resubmit *ONLY IF* they checked YES on Crappypasta but received no contact from me. Please remember to check your spam folder before you resubmit, though, as I have many reports of my emails ending up there due to overzealous filters. Also note that if you entered your email address incorrectly, there is no way for me to contact you. I cannot magically know what your actual email account is if you just type a username in the email field.
  • Remember (since this STILL seems to be confusing people): if you did NOT check yes on crappypasta and received no response, consider your pasta rejected and do not resubmit it unless you do significant rewrites/edits. If you entirely rewrote your pasta, FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS IN THE FAQ to submit your new version and have me delete the old version. If your pasta is entirely brand new, this post doesn’t relate to you in any fashion. At this point, the ONLY people who should be holding off on resubmitting are people who checked YES for Crappypasta, have not done any rewrites or edits, and have not yet received a response.

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