Also, we have an irc now, found here Please come and bitch about the site!
I am sitting on my computer at about 10:30. It’s storming outside, but not a terrible storm, just the occasional thunder shock and even more rare lighting bolt with a very light rain. Almost all the lights in the apartment were off, and I’m just talking to some friends over AIM. Then suddenly it became very very cold. As if the storm from outside was creeping to the door.I just figure there was a temperature drop because of the storm, so I toss on a sweatshirt. After about 30 minutes or so I’m still freezing cold.I start to get this feeling.It’s a feeling we all have felt before.The feeling that someone is staring at you.The feeling that this someone is not very far away.The feeling that if you turn your head the slightest bit, you would see them.I shrug this feeling off because I am an extremely paranoid person and I get this feeling all the time. I continue to converse with my friends, I even mentioned this sensation that I currently had, and my friends naturally laugh at me saying I need to stop being a baby. The sympathetic ones say it will go away eventually and not to worry. I waited awhile…it did not go away. In fact it increased.It felt like something was consuming the very Happiness within me.Like something was filling me with Dread.That chilling Terror we all felt as children when the lights were turned out. A true Fear of the Dark.But it’s not the dark we are afraid of....but of what lurks in the darkI almost couldn’t take it anymore. Here I am, almost a grown man, and I’m jumping at shadows. It’s ridiculous, but as ridiculous as it seems, I still have this little voice in the back of my head telling me that maybe I have a reason to be afraid. Maybe I should turn around and see if there’s actually anything there. Wait…why would I turn around? I don’t want to turn around. Whose thought was that? That certainly wasn’t mine.But who else’s could it be?
I am sitting on my computer at about 10:30. It’s storming outside, but not a terrible storm, just the occasional thunder shock and even more rare lighting bolt with a very light rain. Almost all the lights in the apartment were off, and I’m just talking to some friends over AIM. Then suddenly it became very very cold. As if the storm from outside was creeping to the door.I just figure there was a temperature drop because of the storm, so I toss on a sweatshirt. After about 30 minutes or so I’m still freezing cold.
I start to get this feeling.It’s a feeling we all have felt before.The feeling that someone is staring at you.The feeling that this someone is not very far away.The feeling that if you turn your head the slightest bit, you would see them.
I shrug this feeling off because I am an extremely paranoid person and I get this feeling all the time. I continue to converse with my friends, I even mentioned this sensation that I currently had, and my friends naturally laugh at me saying I need to stop being a baby. The sympathetic ones say it will go away eventually and not to worry. I waited awhile…it did not go away. In fact it increased.
It felt like something was consuming the very Happiness within me.Like something was filling me with Dread.
That chilling Terror we all felt as children when the lights were turned out.
A true Fear of the Dark.But it’s not the dark we are afraid of....but of what lurks in the dark
I almost couldn’t take it anymore. Here I am, almost a grown man, and I’m jumping at shadows. It’s ridiculous, but as ridiculous as it seems, I still have this little voice in the back of my head telling me that maybe I have a reason to be afraid. Maybe I should turn around and see if there’s actually anything there.
Wait…why would I turn around? I don’t want to turn around. Whose thought was that? That certainly wasn’t mine.
But who else’s could it be?
I'm currently in the process of writing a nice little short one for you guys, I'll have it up on monday.
Its finished, I'm revising it now. I'll have it up tomorow night, or if I end up making friends and going out to have fun with them. I'll post it saturday night.
“Hey Coop, you wanna come over this Easter for Sunday?” Dave was always one to want to help out his friends. He is too good to me.“I’ll think about it Dave, I have a lot of work to catch up on. But hey, thanks for the offer.” “Alright, but if you get lonely, my door is always open.”“Will do mate. Will do. Oh yea, thanks for the ride back to my place.”As I opened the door to get out of Dave’s brand new Lexus, the coldness of the night seeped under my skin and nestled itself around my bones. I can feel a storm beginning to settle in. You can always tell when a storm is about to begin in the country-side. The birds stop chirping and the animals all take shelter. Everything is silent. It really does get lonely out here. Four Acres of forest on all sides of this little old house. This is only temporary of course. My brother allowed me to stay here until I can get back on my feet after a nasty little breakup with my girlfriend. It’s not much but its home for now. It’s two stories high, just enough windows so that during the day it will light up enough so I don’t need to waste electricity on lights, and is basically your everyday, run of the mill, house. As I make my way up the drive-way, fumbling for my keys in my pocket, I notice something dart across the front window. Now this hard to describe, because how do you describe a shadow in an already pitch black room. It’s almost impossible to imagine. Something black moving in a black room, ridiculous, but I most certainly saw it. I hate living alone.
“Hey Coop, you wanna come over this Easter for Sunday?” Dave was always one to want to help out his friends. He is too good to me.“I’ll think about it Dave, I have a lot of work to catch up on. But hey, thanks for the offer.” “Alright, but if you get lonely, my door is always open.”
“Will do mate. Will do. Oh yea, thanks for the ride back to my place.”
As I opened the door to get out of Dave’s brand new Lexus, the coldness of the night seeped under my skin and nestled itself around my bones. I can feel a storm beginning to settle in. You can always tell when a storm is about to begin in the country-side. The birds stop chirping and the animals all take shelter. Everything is silent.
It really does get lonely out here. Four Acres of forest on all sides of this little old house. This is only temporary of course. My brother allowed me to stay here until I can get back on my feet after a nasty little breakup with my girlfriend. It’s not much but its home for now. It’s two stories high, just enough windows so that during the day it will light up enough so I don’t need to waste electricity on lights, and is basically your everyday, run of the mill, house. As I make my way up the drive-way, fumbling for my keys in my pocket, I notice something dart across the front window. Now this hard to describe, because how do you describe a shadow in an already pitch black room. It’s almost impossible to imagine. Something black moving in a black room, ridiculous, but I most certainly saw it. I hate living alone.
When is Madame going to post some Junji Ito like we were promised? Wah~...
>>74Do you have DtA?
I'll RS my whole creepy manga folderas soon as I get a bit more to add to it.Currently adding Junji Ito's "Falling" to it.
Lol i'd hate to be in that house.
Lemme know if this is as terrible as i think it is.A giant clam. With a shell spiked with great, obsidian growths; firelike in appearance, yet freezing cold to the touch.Suddenly, it's jagged maw creaks open, revealing a vivid blue orb of such beauty, those who glimpse it for even a moment are instantly captivated by its beauty.Transfixed at the lustrous sphere, one feels as if his soul is being pulled through his eyes.So captivating, this pearl, that you never even notice the tentacles...
Lemme know if this is as terrible as i think it is.
A giant clam. With a shell spiked with great, obsidian growths; firelike in appearance, yet freezing cold to the touch.Suddenly, it's jagged maw creaks open, revealing a vivid blue orb of such beauty, those who glimpse it for even a moment are instantly captivated by its beauty.Transfixed at the lustrous sphere, one feels as if his soul is being pulled through his eyes.So captivating, this pearl, that you never even notice the tentacles...
>A giant clam. With a shell spiked with great, obsidian growths; firelike in appearance, yet freezing cold to the touch.>Suddenly, it's jagged maw creaks open, revealing a vivid blue orb of such beauty, those who glimpse it for even a moment are instantly captivated by its beauty.>Transfixed at the lustrous sphere, one feels as if his soul is being pulled through his eyes.
>>5Couldn't help it, I lol'd.
>>6Really? I ZA WARUDO!'d.
In a far off world, in a different age, there came to be a quirky, yet intelligent being that discovered something amazing. Deep within the ground, there lies a strange material, a hardened substance, and with a color and luster that would drive many to gather it. Yet this creature uncovered a secret about this world. When it would rain, sometimes the sky would turn bright, and a bolt of white light would streak from the air above and strike the ground. In small traces of this same strange power, when coursed through the item found in the ground, once crafted and carved into rods, and bent into spirals, would empower the user with the ability to move certain objects without touching them.
I call it "WHAT."-------------------------------This happened about two hours ago, so forgive the shaky wording.I woke up. I don't know why, only my lights were off, my covers were gone, and there was a sense of something hovering an inch above my face. To be honest, I did almost shit bricks. Being a pretty morbid little kid, I reached up to see what it was and felt skin under my hand. A centimeter to the left and I felt metal.And so, doing what no brick-shitting child had done before- (or at least in my known history), I yelled, grabbed a jutting spike growing off whatever was looming over me with one hand and flicked on a bedside lamp with another.What I saw is near impossible to describe, but I will try my best.What I saw appeared to be a sort of metal-and-flesh construction that vaugely resembled a face with scarred skin stretched exactly to the bone, no nose, but a definition of the raised place on your skull where you noise is, yellow glows that might have been eyes, and huge steely spikes jutting up jest about everywhere.It looked like it had the metal version of a bird's wing-skeleton more than arms.And, of course, it was grinning. Why the hell shouldn't it be.This is where it gets truly weird, I was scared like anything, it felt like my heart was going to pop out of my mouth, but I started laughing. Just laughing. A hand of a lampswitch and staring into the face of the scariest mindfuck beast I had seen sofar, and laughing. It started to laugh too, but it was low and very unpleasant, and I thought, with total clarity, "Hey, I saw it. I am definately shitting a brick. Oh yes indeed." (I know that is repetetive but that is exactly what I thought).The, of course, my brother busted in and asked me why the hell was I laughing, it was 5 in the morning, shut up.And I found myself sitting up, a moony grin on my face, alone in the room apart from my brother.Holy. Living. Crapmongers. Either I went completely night-terror insane, or something really had to run to not be seen.
I call it "WHAT."-------------------------------
This happened about two hours ago, so forgive the shaky wording.
I woke up. I don't know why, only my lights were off, my covers were gone, and there was a sense of something hovering an inch above my face. To be honest, I did almost shit bricks. Being a pretty morbid little kid, I reached up to see what it was and felt skin under my hand. A centimeter to the left and I felt metal.And so, doing what no brick-shitting child had done before- (or at least in my known history), I yelled, grabbed a jutting spike growing off whatever was looming over me with one hand and flicked on a bedside lamp with another.
What I saw is near impossible to describe, but I will try my best.
What I saw appeared to be a sort of metal-and-flesh construction that vaugely resembled a face with scarred skin stretched exactly to the bone, no nose, but a definition of the raised place on your skull where you noise is, yellow glows that might have been eyes, and huge steely spikes jutting up jest about everywhere.It looked like it had the metal version of a bird's wing-skeleton more than arms.
And, of course, it was grinning. Why the hell shouldn't it be.
This is where it gets truly weird, I was scared like anything, it felt like my heart was going to pop out of my mouth, but I started laughing. Just laughing. A hand of a lampswitch and staring into the face of the scariest mindfuck beast I had seen sofar, and laughing. It started to laugh too, but it was low and very unpleasant, and I thought, with total clarity, "Hey, I saw it. I am definately shitting a brick. Oh yes indeed." (I know that is repetetive but that is exactly what I thought).The, of course, my brother busted in and asked me why the hell was I laughing, it was 5 in the morning, shut up.
And I found myself sitting up, a moony grin on my face, alone in the room apart from my brother.
Holy. Living. Crapmongers. Either I went completely night-terror insane, or something really had to run to not be seen.
We were all pretty drunk when I asked Rich about his latest find. Richard, twenty two and already his hair was thinning out pretty bad, assured me that I didn't want to know. I did, I insisted, and so did Jay, who suddenly became very interested in what Richard had found.Richard liked to go to estate sales. I'd go with him once and a while to see what was up for sale, most of it was crap: worn brass picture frames, cracked stone bookends, and boxes, boxes, boxes. Who knew that the average senior citizen had so many damn ornate containers, each and every one of them containing extra buttons never used, each one with spools of thread, or bent house keys, or used batteries? I had no fucking idea, myself. I didn't like to go, but Richard did. He hunted for the perfect curio, he sought out the narrative in these discarded objects. "It's the closest thing to speaking to the dead," he once said to me."I really don't know what to think about it," he told us as we walked upstairs to his bedroom.
We were all pretty drunk when I asked Rich about his latest find. Richard, twenty two and already his hair was thinning out pretty bad, assured me that I didn't want to know. I did, I insisted, and so did Jay, who suddenly became very interested in what Richard had found.
Richard liked to go to estate sales. I'd go with him once and a while to see what was up for sale, most of it was crap: worn brass picture frames, cracked stone bookends, and boxes, boxes, boxes. Who knew that the average senior citizen had so many damn ornate containers, each and every one of them containing extra buttons never used, each one with spools of thread, or bent house keys, or used batteries? I had no fucking idea, myself. I didn't like to go, but Richard did. He hunted for the perfect curio, he sought out the narrative in these discarded objects. "It's the closest thing to speaking to the dead," he once said to me.
"I really don't know what to think about it," he told us as we walked upstairs to his bedroom.
Bravo, HTK. Bravo.You seem to like Zodiac. Any connection, or just pure, flaming, morbid curiosity?
>>5A mass murderer with distinct penmanship and a flair for theater? What's not to like?
>>6He certainly was brilliant. The things he did were wrong, but certainly no lack of intelligence on his part. He managed to prevent himself from being captured. Very hard to do anymore.
Okay, I'm going to dump all of my creepy pasta.I have like, 7 full pages, and although most of it is probably been seen by everyone it won't hurt to post it.------------------I am a zombie, and it's not so bad. I'm learning to live with it. I'm sorry I can't properly introduce myself, but I don't have a name anymore. Hardly any of us do. We forget them, like anniversaries and PIN numbers. I think mine might have started with a "T", but I'm not sure. It's funny, because back when I was alive, I was always forgetting other people's names. I am finding that irony abounds in the zombie life, an ever-present punch line. But it's hard to smile when your lips have rotted off.Before I became a zombie, I think I was a businessman or young professional of some kind. I think I worked in one of those stifling office jobs in a highrise somewhere. The clothes clinging to the remains of my body are high-quality business-casual. Fine gabardine slacks, silvery silk shirt, red Armani power tie. I would probably look pretty sharp if my intestines weren't dragging at my feet. Ha.We like to joke and speculate about our remaining outfits, since these final fashion choices are usually the only indication of who we were before we became no-one. Some people's are less obvious than mine. Jeans and a white t-shirt. Skirt and a tanktop. So we make random guesses.You were a plumber. You were a barista. Ring any bells?It usually doesn't.No one I know has any specific memories. We recognize some things — buildings, cars, Armani ties — but context eludes us. We are here, we do what we do. We lack excellent diction, but we can communicate. We grunt and groan, we make hand gestures, and sometimes a few words slip out. It's not that different from before.
Okay, I'm going to dump all of my creepy pasta.
I have like, 7 full pages, and although most of it is probably been seen by everyone it won't hurt to post it.
------------------
I am a zombie, and it's not so bad. I'm learning to live with it. I'm sorry I can't properly introduce myself, but I don't have a name anymore. Hardly any of us do. We forget them, like anniversaries and PIN numbers. I think mine might have started with a "T", but I'm not sure. It's funny, because back when I was alive, I was always forgetting other people's names. I am finding that irony abounds in the zombie life, an ever-present punch line. But it's hard to smile when your lips have rotted off.
Before I became a zombie, I think I was a businessman or young professional of some kind. I think I worked in one of those stifling office jobs in a highrise somewhere. The clothes clinging to the remains of my body are high-quality business-casual. Fine gabardine slacks, silvery silk shirt, red Armani power tie. I would probably look pretty sharp if my intestines weren't dragging at my feet. Ha.
We like to joke and speculate about our remaining outfits, since these final fashion choices are usually the only indication of who we were before we became no-one. Some people's are less obvious than mine. Jeans and a white t-shirt. Skirt and a tanktop. So we make random guesses.
You were a plumber. You were a barista. Ring any bells?
It usually doesn't.No one I know has any specific memories. We recognize some things — buildings, cars, Armani ties — but context eludes us. We are here, we do what we do. We lack excellent diction, but we can communicate. We grunt and groan, we make hand gestures, and sometimes a few words slip out. It's not that different from before.
>>1 >>2 >>3 >>4http://www.burningbuilding.com/zombie.htm
>>46I'm not a zombie, without emotion,I'm not what you know...I'm just a man who's circumstances went beyond his control!
>>47You're my favourite person on parachan right now.That'll change later, but enjoy the love for a bit.
Leon Czolgosz, assassin of William McKinley, the the 25th President of the United States, was electrocuted for his crime on October 29, 1901, at Auburn Prison in Auburn, New York. Among the personal effects found in his cell was a U.S. quarter stamped with the date 2218. The face in profile on said quarter was not George Washington, but rather a face which has yet to be identified.
Yes, that made sense.
wait why is this permapasta
>>3I believe it is a thread that intends on being stickied once they get stickies to stick.This is one of my favourites:In winter of 1944, with overtaxed supply lines in the Ardennes, a German medic had completely run out of plasma, bandages and antiseptic. During one particularly bad round of mortar fire, his encampment suddenly became a bloodbath. The survivors claimed to hear, above the screams and barked commands of their Lieutenant, someone cackling with almost girlish glee.The medic made his rounds during the fire, in almost complete darkness as he had so many times before, but never this short on supplies.The bombardment moved to other ends of the line, most men dropped off to sleep in the still dark hours of the morning - New Year's Day, 1945.The men awoke at first light with screams. They discovered that their bandages were not typical bandages at all, but hunks and strips of human flesh. Several men had been given fresh blood transfusions, with no blood supplies available. Each treated man was almost completely covered, head-to-toe, with the maroon stain of blood.The medic was found, sitting on an ammunition tin, staring off into space. When one man approached him, tapped him on the shoulder, his tunic fell off to reveal all skin, muscle, and sinew had been stripped from his torso and his body almost completely dried of blood. In one hand was a scalpel, and in the other, a blood transfusion vial.None of the men treated for wounds that night, in that camp, saw the end of January, 1945.
>>3I believe it is a thread that intends on being stickied once they get stickies to stick.
This is one of my favourites:In winter of 1944, with overtaxed supply lines in the Ardennes, a German medic had completely run out of plasma, bandages and antiseptic. During one particularly bad round of mortar fire, his encampment suddenly became a bloodbath. The survivors claimed to hear, above the screams and barked commands of their Lieutenant, someone cackling with almost girlish glee.
The medic made his rounds during the fire, in almost complete darkness as he had so many times before, but never this short on supplies.
The bombardment moved to other ends of the line, most men dropped off to sleep in the still dark hours of the morning - New Year's Day, 1945.
The men awoke at first light with screams. They discovered that their bandages were not typical bandages at all, but hunks and strips of human flesh. Several men had been given fresh blood transfusions, with no blood supplies available. Each treated man was almost completely covered, head-to-toe, with the maroon stain of blood.
The medic was found, sitting on an ammunition tin, staring off into space. When one man approached him, tapped him on the shoulder, his tunic fell off to reveal all skin, muscle, and sinew had been stripped from his torso and his body almost completely dried of blood. In one hand was a scalpel, and in the other, a blood transfusion vial.
None of the men treated for wounds that night, in that camp, saw the end of January, 1945.
September 13th, 1992. Journalist Danny Johnson had been missing for two months. He was last seen by the locals in the town of Rehead, US. According to his friends he had gotten an anonymous tip about something strange happening in this town, but he refused to divulge the secret. Friends report that this got him so interested that he went to great lengths to investigate it, such as not leaving his house for a week. After having dug up all the information he could about this town he decided to finally visit it July 13th, 1992. Telling his friends goodbye as quickly and impersonal as possible they figured it was just another one of his “scoops”, but got worried and reported him missing when they hadn’t heard from him in 2 weeks. The local police of Rehead got involved, and several clues and tips led them to a local “haunted house”, the kind that kids scared each other with.
That's more like sexypasta.
that was deeply shit
im so confused
As the door closed I turned to the cute blue eyed, brown haired eight-year-old next to me,“So what do you wanna do tonight, Daniel?”“I wanna play monopoly.”I hate that game.“Sure, do you have it out already or do we need to go find it?”Dear God, please say we have to spend twenty minutes finding it.“I already have it out, and I already passed out the money for the two of us.”I hate you, God.“Alright, you go take your turn. I’m gonna go order us some pizza.”I sat back down after ordering us a medium cheese pizza.“Hey bud, my turn now?”“Yes Kristi.”I picked up the dice and nonchalantly rolled them. “Oh wow Kristi, you rolled an 8!” the little boy exclaimed, his dark eyes rounding in amazement.“Yep, I guess I did… can you move me 8 spaces, champ? I can’t reach that far from this side of the board.”“Sure.”Just as he began to move to pickup the piece, the door bell rang. Actually, rang doesn’t even begin to describe the sound the door bell made. This thing was straight out of a horror movie. I literally jumped a foot in the air when I first heard this thing. My heart started racing.Luckily Dannyboy brought me back to reality. “Pizza got here quick.”“Yea, I guess so.” I said as I grabbed the money and went to answer the door.“Hey, you guys got here really qui-” There was no one there. A chill ran down my spine.A convict that escaped from jail…only 10 miles away…
As the door closed I turned to the cute blue eyed, brown haired eight-year-old next to me,“So what do you wanna do tonight, Daniel?”“I wanna play monopoly.”
I hate that game.
“Sure, do you have it out already or do we need to go find it?”
Dear God, please say we have to spend twenty minutes finding it.
“I already have it out, and I already passed out the money for the two of us.”
I hate you, God.
“Alright, you go take your turn. I’m gonna go order us some pizza.”
I sat back down after ordering us a medium cheese pizza.“Hey bud, my turn now?”“Yes Kristi.”I picked up the dice and nonchalantly rolled them. “Oh wow Kristi, you rolled an 8!” the little boy exclaimed, his dark eyes rounding in amazement.“Yep, I guess I did… can you move me 8 spaces, champ? I can’t reach that far from this side of the board.”“Sure.”Just as he began to move to pickup the piece, the door bell rang. Actually, rang doesn’t even begin to describe the sound the door bell made. This thing was straight out of a horror movie. I literally jumped a foot in the air when I first heard this thing. My heart started racing.Luckily Dannyboy brought me back to reality. “Pizza got here quick.”“Yea, I guess so.” I said as I grabbed the money and went to answer the door.“Hey, you guys got here really qui-” There was no one there. A chill ran down my spine.
A convict that escaped from jail…only 10 miles away…
woops
- kareha 3.1.3 + futaba mode -