Alright folks, give us your best OC horror stories. No skimping. Make us tremble in our shoes. Give us something to think about, keep our minds in unadulterated fear.
pls respond
>>16981890
You start it off, this is what I come here for. Nothing spooky happens in my life.
I wish I was creative/twisted enough to write OC creepypasta.
Last night I had this nightmare. And I wake up and sew that everything was okay.
My gf told me that I should sleep.
>mfw I don't have gf
It was the nastiest thing I'd ever seen in an antique store – covered end to end in grime, covering up what looked like markings on every surface. I picked it up like most people would handle cat shit.
"Uhhhm. I'll take it," the casheir gave me an emberassed look.
"Are you sure about that sir?"
"As sure as I'll ever be. How much?"
The woman ran her fingers over a concealed log book, "five dollars. You do know what that is, right?"
"Well, sorta. Looks like something someone would store coffee in. Yeah. In a really bad situation."
"You're not far off actually. It's a subtropic wish container. They're such a common thing in certain countries, so they're not as pricy."
"Ehhrm. Got it," I handed her the remnants of my wallet.
I walked home with the thing precariously dangling between my fingers. I set the damn thing on the kitchen counter, not thinking about uncapping it until after that evening. "Wish container, eh?" I thought. Moments later I had my hand tightly curled around it.
The thing wouldn't open worth a damn. I ended up throwing it in a vice and gripping the cap with some pliers. When it did open though, a musty cloud of dirt and filth puffed from the opening. That's when it took a turn, at least to my recollection. There was something in the container, but it had been in there for so long it had since disintegrated. Probably a compound of that awful powder.
I hadn't asked the woman any further, and I didn't think to look up how these "wish containers" worked. Wish I did, though. I left the thing sitting in the vice in the shed, convinced I'd been sold an over glorified piece of crap. I was wrong though. It was much worse than crap.
cont.
>>16982028
The next morning, I woke to find my cat: dead, shriveled, and rotting on the living room floor. There aren't words to describe the dread which had started forming inside of me. It was so disfigured, I didn't think it was my cat at first. If it weren't for the collar, still shiny on the otherwise mummified remains. Instantly, my thoughts turned to the thing which reminded me of a soiled coffee thermos. Stupid thought? Yes. Definitely yes. But it was all I could think of. What solidified that thought, was the fact that it disappeared. When I took a trip back to the shed minutes later it was gone, vice and all. As stupid as I thought it was, I was convinced *it* had done that. I stuffed the cat into a plastic bag and put it under the avacado tree in the backyard.
It was to my added distress, that the antique shop where I'd gotten the thing closed down. And not just closed. Gone. Boarded up and everything, graffiti covering all sides within reach. I tried calling, trust me. It was closed.
I realized at this point, that I had no reason to buy the stupid thing. I'd done it out of pure disgust and retail therapy. Now the cat was dead, and my favourite antique store closed. Then I'd lose my car, then my house. Maybe even my wife.
I realized what my problem was.
I was in a fucking country song.
That thing that I had opened, was a fucking country song.
>>16982029
>I realized what my problem was.
>I was in a fucking country song.
Damn, man, give us a warning before you post scary stories like these! Now I'm gonna have nightmares.
Alright, I very rarely post on /x/ since the stuff I write usually ends up in book form, but this is a short (for me) story I wrote this morning when I couldn't sleep.
1/we'll see :p
I have always loved fishing, it's a passion that I got from my father, from when he used to take me to the small bridge by the stream outside of town and fish for bass - we usually didn't catch anything, but I loved it all the same.
It was simply a joy to be around my dad, he was a simple guy who enjoyed quiet times with a fishing pole in his hands.
As I got older, I started going down to the little stream nearby the old factory by myself, since my father rarely had time to fish anymore, due to him often having to travel for work, and having little spare time, or energy for that matter, for fishing, or me for that matter.
>>16983060
2/?
I started seeing these moments by myself as a form of meditation, I found it relaxing to just sit in a secluded spot downstream, away from the bridge, where I could sit on the grassy bank, and just watch my lure bob up and down on the water below.
The sounds of birds singing in the woods behind me was one of my favorite parts of the solitude, I could sit on that grassy bank and disconnect my brain, and dream about everything on my mind, girls, school, the future.
As the years went by, fishing remained my favorite activity, often I'd go straight home from school, pick up my fishing gear, my pole, a box of lures, and an empty glass jar which I'd fill with worms when I got to my fishing spot, there was always worms in the dirt close to the water, so I had everything I needed right there.
By the time I was 17, I felt like that little stream was the one constant in my life, and that as long as I could go fish, life would be okay.
Through the years I had gradually started going further and further away from the bridge, always following the winding path of the little stream, and I was starting to enjoy the hikes away from civilization almost as much as the fishing itself, it was part of the charm I used to think.
>>16983064
3/?
By now it took me roughly an hour and a half of hiking before I used to settle down, get my gear out and cast my lure into the water.
This far from the bridge, there was no sign of human life, no sounds of cars driving over the little bridge, no sounds from families walking the path that went alongside the road that crossed the bridge, this was pure bliss!
In my years of fishing, my ears had gotten used to the songs of the birds and I could distinguish the type of bird from their calls, this was something I spent a lot of time doing as I laid back in the grass, my fishing rod held upright by being lodged between my bag and the box of lures.
I rarely had my eyes open as I laid there, the forest grew thicker and thicker the farther from the bridge you got, and where I was, the foliage was so dense that light could barely penetrate it - so it could get quite dark out there, this was something I had grown to appreciate as part of the seclusion.
One such day, as I was laying in the grass next to the stream, lazily slumbering to the sounds of a woodpecker, enjoying its day in the woods somewhere close by, I suddenly became startled.
I sat up quickly and looked around me, expecting to see another hiker that had followed the stream, but there was nobody there.
>>16983068
4/?
I calmed down, and told myself it was just a trick of the mind and that I was halfway asleep, but I could have sworn I heard a twig break in the woods behind me, as if someone had been sneaking up on me and been unaware of a twig underfoot, but I told myself I was mistaken.
I turned my attention to my fishing pole, still sitting there, with my lure bobbing in the water, no sign of any fish as usual, but that was never my focus with fishing.
I sighed, relieved that I hadn't had my relaxing moment spoiled by another person hiking by, but chills again seized me, I realized I didn't just not hear sounds of someone else, but I wasn't hearing anything at all.
The woodpecker that had been nearby wasn't making any noises, and neither were the crickets that always provided a repetitive chirp from the grass, the forest had become dead quiet.
I could hear my breath, as my heart was beating faster and faster, I looked around again, and like before, nothing was there, and I was all alone.
>>16983070
5/?
The concept of being alone had never really struck me as something other than relaxing, since I had always had the company of the animals, I had felt protected by their noises I realized, but now, I was truly alone.
For the first time in my life, I felt fear from my seclusion, paranoid thoughts led me to think about how far away from the bridge I was, I immediately decided to pack up my things and start heading back home, even though it was still early evening according to my clock, nowhere near the time I usually went home, most night I was out several hours longer, but now it felt different.
I got up, picked up my fishing rod, and as I reeled in the line and reached for my lure which was now hanging in the air in front of me, I made a mental note that the hook at the end of the fishing line was gone, but I kept packing and within minutes I had all my things collected and I was following the stream in the direction of the bridge.
I was more than happy assuming some fish got a nice meal from the worm that had been hooked, and had also gotten the hook with it when it had left.
I had walked for nearly an hour when I moved to put my hand on the strap of my bag, when I had felt something on my finger, I looked down to see that blood was dripping out of a small puncture wound in the palm of my index finger.
>>16983072
6/?
I stopped walking, and looked down at the strap where I had pricked my finger, and saw my hook.
The hook had completely pierced the strap of my bag, this really puzzled me, almost to the point where I had forgotten the fear I had felt the last hour, and that's when I heard it.
Snap! Again I flung my head around to see if someone was following me, and again, no one was there, but this time I was sure of what I had heard, I was wide awake.
It was the sound of a twig snapping under someone’s foot, I was sure of it!
The fear came back, washing over me like a tide and I felt the hairs on the back of my head stand up, and I ran.
Sure that someone was standing just outside of my view, behind one of the big trees, or hiding behind one of the rocks scattered just inside the tree line, lurking, I ran like my life depended on it, and in my mind at that moment, it did.
Sweat poured down my brow as I finally, after what seemed like forever came in view of the old familiar bridge again, I felt ease, I stopped running, and came to a halt as I bent over catching my breath, and when my pulse had lowered and my breath was no longer labored, I relished in hearing the sounds of the birds again.
>>16983075
7/?
My nerve came back with a sense of bravery, and I chuckled at how I had imagined noises and scared myself into ending a nice day of fishing by being paranoid.
I walked to the little bridge, crossed the road, and set out on the small path back towards town, within 20 minutes I was walking down the sidewalk and turned up the little path to my house.
I kicked off my shoes and greeted my mom, she replied with an annoyed scowl, most likely because I had "wasted another day of my life" as she liked to put it, so I continued past her down the hallway towards my room.
I have refrained from writing too much about it, but I guess one big reason why I like fishing so much is because of the life I have at home.
My mom is a mean person, always angry at dad for working late and never calling home, always taking it out on me because dad is usually not around, and when he does get home, he does nothing but drink and sit in front of the TV, sometimes yelling at mom for not cleaning the house when he's at work.
It was no big mystery why I liked to be out of the house so much.
I put down my bag on the floor, along with my lure box and placed my fishing rod against the wall in the corner of the room, and went back to the bag to inspect the hook that was caught on the strap.
My mind went through scenarios on how it could have ended up piercing the strap of my bag, when I was so sure I had put a worm on the hook and then cast it and the lure into the water moments before lying back in the grass - now this was a real mystery I thought to myself.
I put the bag back down on the floor, telling myself I'd get the hook off the strap later as I was realizing the day had left me hungry, it was not every day I run almost an half hour nonstop after all, must've been the adrenaline that kept me going since I was by no means an athlete.
I laid down on the bed, pondering what I was going to make myself for dinner, but sleep came quickly.
>>16983079
8/?
I awoke fully clothed, on top of my bed, stomach grumbling after not having eaten since school, a glance at my alarm clock told me it was almost 1 o'clock at night, the house was silent.
I got up from the bed and headed for the kitchen determined to sate my hunger, possibly with slices of whatever I could find in the fridge on a piece of sourdough bread, or in worst case, leftovers from whatever abomination my mom had called dinner that day.
I tread carefully, mindful not to wake my mom or my dad, and when I got to the kitchen I lit the small light above the sink, and I got out some leftover meatballs and two slices of bread.
As I was slicing the meatballs to put on my sandwich, I absentmindedly stared out the window in front of the sink.
It had a view of our fairly large backyard, the sides of the yard was fenced, but the back of the yard wasn’t since our property also included some trees from the big forest that went on for miles in every direction around our small town.
I was just finishing up slicing the meatballs when I froze, I felt the same feeling that had abruptly caused me to end my day of fishing – I nervously scanned the treeline looking for anything that could have caused the sudden onset of fear.
It was so dark that I could hardly see past the first two or three rows of trees, the dim light from above the sink simply wasn’t strong enough.
My eyes suddenly fixed to one tree, I stared hard, I couldn’t quite make it out but there was a small patch of darkness, darker than the shadows around it that poked out from behind the tree.
I stared for what felt like minutes, but my eyes were not adjusting to the darkness, the dim light was the only thing illumination the kitchen, and the first few yards of the tree line outside, I came to the conclusion that I would have to turn off the light to get a better view further into the trees.
>>16983080
9/?
I flipped the switch, and in the split second after the light turned off, my vision allowed me to see just a little bit farther, and what I saw caused my body to freeze!
The dark patch that seemed to have poked out from behind the tree, it had moved, but not before I had seen that it wasn’t just a patch of darkness, it was something solid, and two small glints had given off the impression of eyes.
I stood still like a statue, staring the tree down like it was the barrel of gun, looking for any sign of movement, but nothing more happened.
I had stood in front of that window in the dark kitchen for minutes now, I was sure of it, and I was starting to feel brave, most likely due to standing in my own home, we all feel safe in our own homes, it’s like the games you played as a kid where if you make it home then bam, you’re safe!
Call it bravery or stupidity, but I had told myself I should investigate.
I turned my gaze from the window for the first time In minutes and walked towards the supply closet behind me, and retrieved my trusty Maglite flashlight.
Feeling like I was invulnerable, I stepped out of the small door leading out into the backyard, light immediately fixed on the tree I had stared down, and I started to quietly sneak towards the tree.
Again, there were no sounds, and I couldn’t see anything, I started losing my nerve the closer I got to the tree I got, but I kept sneaking closer to the tree reminding myself I could run to my door in perhaps 20-30 seconds.
I was coming up on the tree, I stopped, took a breath and jumped forward the last few steps, not sure why, probably thinking I’d surprise anyone using the tree as cover.
Nothing! I again chuckled at being paranoid, and quietly asked myself what was up with me today, first I had creeped myself out with my imagination when I was fishing and now I was doing the same in my own home.
>>16983083
10/?
I turned towards the house to go back inside, and I froze.
I can only describe it as a dark face staring at me from the kitchen window, no features could be seen in the dark, but the eyes were burning a bright yellow.
I raised my light towards the window in one quick motion, telling myself it was just my dad and the eyes lighting up was just a trick of the imagination, but before my light could fixate on the window, the face dodged out of view of the window
I felt fear like never before, but I also knew I couldn’t just run, something was inside the house with my parents, and I swallowed the lump in my throat, which felt like a baseball wrapped in barbed wire, and I ran.
I reached the door to the kitchen in record time and I screamed at the top of my lungs for my parents to wake up as I speedily ran through the kitchen, down the hallway to their door.
I still couldn’t hear anything, the house was silent – I slammed open the door to my parents room.
I just had time to see the outline of my parents lying in the bed, looking like they hadn’t woken up, My hand moved towards the light switch but before my finger could reach it my hand was stopped, a hand grasping my arm from behind, it hurt, a lot!
I stood there frozen, sure that I was going to die, and that was the first time I realized the smell that filled the house.
It smelled like rotten eggs, the adrenaline as I ran had kept me from actually noticing the wretched odor, my eyes, darted to the hand that was grasping my arm, not able to move my head from the fear.
The hand looked human, but odd, the fingers were almost two times longer than any fingers I had seen before, the skin covered by filthy, pale skin.
>>16983087
11/?
The fingernails were gnarled and a dark color, even in the dim light of the flashlight hanging limp in my other hand, aimed at the floor, I could see that the hand and the arm belonging to whatever was standing behind me was just different enough to feel inhuman.
It felt like forever, a small wheeze being the only thing I heard from my unknown assailant, and suddenly my vision turned black and I fell.
When I next opened my eyes I sat up almost forgotten what had happened, I felt the back of my head and felt a wet bump, looking at my hand I could see it was blood.
I shook off the confusion, everything came rushing back, and so did the fear, I groggily jumped to my feet looking in every direction, expecting to see my attacker waiting to attack, but nothing was there.
The fear however, remained, with the smell of rotten eggs and death filling the air of the forest, my eyes darted from tree to tree, all around me, again the forest was silent - oh god I hated the silence!
And then I heard it, the sound of a twig breaking. I ran. No sense of where, just away.
I dodged between trees, the brush getting thicker and thicker, I heard footsteps following behind me, not getting any closer, but just following.
>>16983089
12/?
My hands were bleeding from small cuts after powering through the brush, and then I saw the water.
I must have woken up close to the large lake a few miles outside of town, I ran towards to water and jumped in, swimming as fast as I could away from the shore.
My body was hurting, and my breathing was so labored that I was swallowing water with every breath, I had reached my limit and I had to stop – I coughed, water being expelled from my lungs.
I turned around in the water to see if I was being followed, I was both relieved and terrified by what I saw, I wasn’t being followed, but my attacker was standing there, a few feet into the forest, I was quite far away from it but I’ll never forget the horrible details of this wretched being!
The body was thin, and it was tall, must’ve been closer to seven feet tall, and the skin was a dirtied pale color - And the eyes!
Two small, round yellow dots, in large, sunken, black cavities.
The mouth was agape, with no lips outlining the dark mouth, creating a horrible image forever burned into my memory.
It didn’t move towards me, the light was starting to come out at this point, and after what felt like an eternity, but was closer to five minutes, it turned and disappeared between a tree not to be seen again.
>>16983091
13/?
I stayed treading water for nearly an hour, fighting through horrible cramps to stay afloat, and I decided to swim towards a small dock at the far side of the lake, away from the forest I had fled from.
As I got closer I recognized the dock as belonging to the local marina, I swam towards it relieved I could see people standing on the dock, I yelled out, again swallowing water and I could feel myself struggling to stay afloat.
A man saw me, jumped in, and as he reached me, I lost consciousness.
I woke up in the hospital, both hands cuffed to the rails of the bed with two officers on either side of me who immediately asked me my name and if I remember what happened.
I weakly told them in a raspy, gruff voice I barely recognized as my own, and they wasted no time saying I was under arrest for the murder of John and Christine Murdoch, my parents.
It sank in that my parents had been dead when I had reached their door trying to wake them up, I hadn’t had time to think things through since I had decided to investigate the shape behind the tree - I asked what had happened.
The officers told me they had been called by our neighbors after they had awoken by me screaming my parents name, by the time the officers had gotten to our home, the house was empty, aside from my parents, still lying in their beds, looking like they were resting peacefully, both of their throats slit, covers and mattress soaked in blood.
>>16983094
14/?
They asked who had helped me kill my parents.
I screamed that I hadn’t killed them and that we had been attacked in the middle of the night, but they didn’t believe me.
It wasn’t long after that I was taken by the police to a small compound a few towns over where I would wait for my impending trial, the small cuts on my hands were not severe enough to warrant keeping me under observation they said.
The entire trial felt like a giant slap to the face, I was given no chance to defend myself, I had been threatened by the judge to be removed if I didn’t shut up and stop interrupting the proceedings.
At one point of the trial, evidence was brought forward saying I had an accomplice in the murders, photos were presented which depicted the floor of the doorway to my parents room.
On the floor you could see muddy prints from my feet, socks and all.
But the footprints behind me, I’ll never forget them!
Terrifying prints, which looked human enough aside from the sheer size of them, almost twice the size of my own feet, the lawyers didn’t even seem to care about this little fact, they just assumed I had worked together with a man with big feet.
>>16983096
15/15
I was eventually found guilty for the murder of my parents and sentenced to care in a criminal psychiatric clinic for minors where I would remain until my 18th birthday, where I would then be forcibly admitted to an adult facility for “long term treatment”.
The case is still open, they’re still looking for a “man with big feet”, and I sometimes get visitors from the police that ask me about my “accomplice” as they call it with a smirk on their face.
They never believe me, and I know you won’t believe me either, no one ever does, you’ll just discredit what I say and call me killer like everyone else.
God I wish I hadn’t gone fishing that day!
--------------------------------
Kudos to you if you stuck through it to the end.
I'll give you a bump OP!
/x/ always needs new oc horror!
Here is a really amateurish attempt at spooky lit, a translation of it at least, that i wrote a few months ago, a really short one.
Since my early days I've had observing people as a hobby.
I realised I had this kind of inclination was when I saw a car crash up close. People were screaming, some in disgust, some in fear and some in anger. In the middle of those people, with mouths overflowing with syllables that had no meaning other than the emotion they carried, there was a single woman. She was standing there in the middle of the burning asphalt, just standing.
The truck that had just ran over more people than a child my age could count had barely missed her.
The truck that could have taken her life somewhere not here, in the middle of this storm of people flapping their throats up and down almost like a bird taking flight.
The truck that, for me, looked more like the oversized villain in the cartoon I had just watched before leaving home.
It missed her. It didn't take her elsewhere.
And she didn't have a emotion to show in response to that.
She couldn't have.
She shouldn't.
And under that blazing sun she walked, looking back once, before sitting on a nearby bench starting to cry without letting out tears. Crying with a sound that resembled a child's first sounds.
At that moment I felt sympathy for the woman whose neither name nor face I knew, that woman whose silhouette had been somewhat distorted by the heat had been seen by a child whose existence she would ever know.
I then lifted slightly the sides of my mouth and squeezed my dead sister's hand.
The truck had stopped on top of her thorax. Of course she would have died, after all, without lungs you can't breath.
>>16983103
rowlin
>>16983301
1/2
To me forests used to seem like pretty nice places in which to do whatever and today I wasn't feeling much different. It was Saturday and with all my homework done already who could be stuffed hanging around my constantly sleeping mother and baby brother, retards didn't get enough sleep. I decided to go a little deeper into the woods then I had before. I used to use the brook as my boundary but, today I hadn't really got out all of my steam.
It felt a little exciting going where no man had gone before, as you expect it should. After a while it became a little dark so I decided that soon I'd wrap things up and head back. But first, I said to myself, I'll have to have a swig of my drink. I found a nice fresh stump and sat down, unfastening from my pack the 500ml aluminium bottle I kept especially for my treks.
Wait a fucking moment, thought I, a fresh stump? Who could have possibly felled a tree out this far. The only evidence of logging that I was aware of, was all around my house, nothing out father than the old 50's model Holden ruin. My father used to chop wood for the fire back when he was still alive but then he died and we bought an electric system. I checked the skyline for smoke, perhaps someone lived out here. Sure enough a small plume of smoke could be seen in the distance. Okay well that's interesting.
>>16983423
2/2
Everything was quiet for awhile which was odd because there had been the occasional rustle of the animals up until now. Crack!. What the fuck was that I thought, surveying my surroundings for animals. There isn't anything that big in inland Australia. BANG!. I felt it this time, the feeling of being shot, a big wound in my leg, profusely bleeding, the stump splintered where it had been shot before. I toppled over backwards, hurting my back. I began to laboriously drag myself along the forest floor hoping to escape whoever had shot me. Then I heard it, someone thundering behind me. Getting desperate now, I lost my pack to gain speed but, it was ineffectual.
He kicked me in the back, forcing me to turn around. There stood my father slightly less human than I had last seen him. In his hands a hunting rifle and a knife. He pinned me to the ground and lowered the knife to my shoulder. To my horror he began to saw away, my screams having no effect on his manic resolve.
From there on, I became increasingly less conscious of the mutilations. First my two arms, then my feet and legs, my nose, my ears and finally, after tearing my clothes off, my breasts and clitoris.
Since then I have been kept in the basement of father's home given only pen paper and food, I have become very good at using my mouth to write, which seems to make dad really happy. Sometimes dad straps me to his back like a baby and takes me on walks to watch my mother and brother prepare for work and school. Then he sneaks into the house to poison the heating unit, making it blow over them in their sleep "tried to replace me" is all he says day in and day out. I wish he'd poison me too.
Found this in a cabin whilst exploring the woods around my holiday resort.
>>16983103
rolling once more
I heard a joke once, that seeing you're wife give birth is like watching your favorite pub burn down; they can rebuild it, but you know it'll never be the same.
But that's a fucking Limey for you. Always worried about the appearance of things and not the experience.
The day my wife had Lucy was hands down the best day of my life. Something about seeing a little baby brings tears to your eyes. Even mine. Even if I have seen some shit. And keep seeing it, even when I don't want to.
Even if Lucy was perfect — and she was — my wife Meg and I weren't so perfect. I was gone a lot with my job and when I was around I was drinking a lot, so I wasn't so surprised when she said she wanted out. I figured we'd split custody of Lucy, but since I was on the road a lot, it kind of made more sense that Lucy would stay at Meg's. I'd see her on weekends. It'd be great.
It was. For a while. Then, I started getting busier at work, started dating again, got promoted — found it was harder and harder to see Lucy on the weekends. That turned into trying to see her once a month. Next thing I know, it's just on Christmas and then that faded away because who the fuck can call a kid once a year and tell them you love them? If you can, you're a hard fucking man.
Years get messed up when you get old. Twelve years after Lucy was born, I got a call from Meg. She had been crying. She got calm enough to tell me Lucy was dead. Hit and run. She bled out in the street.
The last time I saw her she had been three.
>>16983758
I didn't go to the funeral. I couldn't decide if that made me a better person or a worse one. It didn't matter. No matter what I did wouldn't get her back. I sat on my couch a lot after that. I watched tv. Nature programs. Mysteries of the deep. Shit like that. I had a lot of time. My work had downsized. I was let go in the first round. All the resumes I sent out after never brought back any calls. My mortage felt huge, like those giant squids they find inside the belly of whales.
I had two months of unemployment left when I started hearing the knocking at my door. It was always late — two or three in the morning. I would get up in the absolute pitch black of light, flick on a lamp in the hallway, and creep out to the front door.
You ever been alone in a house in the middle of the night when someone starts knocking on the door? You know what it feels like? That somebody wants to talk to you in the dead of night, banging on the door loud enough to wake the —
Well, I digress.
>>16983761
That night, the first night of the door knocking, when I got there and peered out the little window on the side of the door, I didn't see anybody. I turned on the porch light and opened the door, letting in that cold nocturnal wind, the kind that gets the cold right in your bones.
Nobody was out there.
The rest of the week was quiet. Then on Saturday night I woke up. A pounding on the door. Not a knocking. A pounding.
I crept out of the bedroom. I felt like I could see a shadowy shape at the door for a second but by the time I got there it was the same as the last time.
Nobody.
I opened the door and stepped out, looking up and down the street.
Nothing.
I turned to go back in and then I jumped.
My car alarm was going off: loud and piercing, it's hazards flashing in the dark. I stepped forward and peered into the intermittently light driveway. I didn't see anybody. It must have been a cat.
I went into the house to grab my keys to turn the alarm off. As I was getting them off the kitchen table, I heard the alarm stop.
That couldn't have happened, I thought. It doesn't just turn off. Things don't stop.
I went to rush out and there in the doorway stood a figure.
>>16983765
It was a little girl, standing right on the edge of the doorway. Staring at me.
It was hard to see her clearly. The only light on in the house was a lamp and it merely outlined her shape; the majority of her remained defined by shadows.
"Excuse me," she said, "can I come in?"
Her voice sounded like a old voicemail on an old phone. Distant but permanent.
"No, you can't come in," I said.
"Please," she said. "I need help."
"What happened?" I asked. I didn't want to ask. I didn't want to hear what she said.
"There was an accident. I need help. I need to make a call," she stepped forward, almost into the house but not into the house, into the liminal space of the doorway. "Let me call my mom."
I saw her eyes. They were all black, reflecting me staring at her.
I slammed the door. I don't know how but I did. I slammed the door and fell on the ground.
Outside, in the dark, the figure walked out into the middle of the street. There were others like her standing and waiting. I lost sight of them in the shadows.
Ever since that, the knocking happens every night. You see, I wasn't the worst dad ever. After I lost my job, I went to visit Lucy, I had a couple of drinks first of course. Helps with the nerves. I knew I had something, but I didn't know what. I just drove off. When I looked into those black dead eyes they looked just like a mirror. And they showed me, but not the me in front of her now. The me in the car. The me that had been behind the wheel. The me who saw her first and who saw her last.
Maybe this is how it was always meant to be. I never visited her, but now every night Lucy visits me.
>>16983776
The end. I used a random number generator and got black eyed children
Rolllllll
>>16983784
That was pretty fucking good. I didn't see that ending coming.
Scariest thing ever
>Walking down deserted road
>See a spoopy house
>Friend says "Hey anon I'll give you $10 if you stay inside for a full 30 minutes
>challengeaccepted.jpg
>Walk in
>See a cat
>Jump a little
>Hear blood curling scream
>Start freaking out
>look out window
>See friend standing there laughing
>burninhell.png
>walk out of the room
>walk into the kitchen
>all doors slam shut
>turns advanced dark
>one door seems to be ajar
>open the door
>get on the floor
>everybody do the dinosaur
Bump. for more spoopies.
>>16983103
Henry Rollin
>>16986178
1/?
Her name was Andea.I would do anything to be with her.I have had feelings for her since grade school.Although I wasn't the only one who had affection
for her.There were two men who stood in my way.The first was a man named James,who to her was only a friend.Though I could tell that he to also had
feelings for her.I could also tell he was gaining confidence.He was loosing his inhibitions.I feared that the finish line at the end of my journey
could soon be claimed by another man.The second was her father.He was a brute.He was also likely the reason no man had yet to steal Andrea from me.
I would be thankful for him over this had I not been his number one target.He knew I had feelings for his daughter.I could tell every time we made
eye contact.He knew this many years ago when both me and Andrea used to be friends back when we were kids.We used to hang out all the time.When we
were prepubescent we would have sleepover together.We would always be there at each others birthdays and other assorted events.Then her mother
died.After that she shut her self off.We went months without talking.I thought about the pain she must be going through every day.About three months
after her mother passed we would have a rare conversation every now in then.I could tell she still wanted to be left alone.
Then james showed up.He was
like me but even more introverted.For some reason she opened up to him.I would she her out of the corner of my eye laughing and joking with him.
Eventually one day I saw then going home together.I'm not sure what they did but soon after she was forbidden by her father from bringing any male home.
I still could talk to her at school but she would focus all her attention on James.I began to see that I was the second wheel knocked down to third
place.
>>16986487
Ey man
>>16983098
Nice story, I enjoyed it.
>>16983776
Sweet fucking ending, totally unexpected.
/x/ needs more OC
A war story of my grandmom's dad
>Finland's war the the soviets is over
>on condition that the nazis have to be driven out
>everyone's thinking of going home already
>soldiers are being loaded in trains to Lapland
>no one's really paying attention anymore
>bunch of guys wanna visit their homes now that the train's running through central-Finland
>grandma's dad also jumps off the queue and starts walking home after stealing civilian clothes from a public sauna
>walks all night past 2 cities outskirts in full pinecone-mode
>walking in the forest's edge near a field at fullmoon
>crouches as a car drives on the road through the field
>I don't know if it's relevant but he thought the women's homeguard being driven around in the dark was sweet justice for them wearing white
>decides to camp a little further in the woods
>gathers pinenettles for bedding and pulls a blanket over himself in the complete dark without fire as to stay stealthy
>autumn is getting colder, hard to sleep even in a windshelter made of twigs
>next morning continues walking and home is only half a day away
>after a few hours hears atleast three military-trucks driving on the road to his right headed where he came from
>picks up the pace
>finally home tells his wife how he lost 3 truckloads of mp's
>just in case hides in the wheatstorage to sleep
>wakes up at night hearing dozens of steps outside
>hears soldiers going in house
>and coming out of the house just a minute or less later
>soldiers move in the woods, propably searching for him or who knows, he hasn't been updated whether the russian's started war again
>can't think why they wouldn't search the other houses
>sneaks out of barn to see if the russians killed his wife
>outside ground's frozen and the door to house is open
>inside house is snowy bootsteps
>finds his wife dead and pale looking peaceful
>carries her to sauna and sleeps with her in there
cont.
>>16990425
>outsidea little further in the morning are finnish trucks and no security
>buries wife and decides he can't stay from war
>skiis back in the woods with rifle from his house
>the snow and the fog are getting deeper and are covering all tracks
>after over an hour finds tracks and soldiers' equipment scattered around in the woods
>a big lump the size of a bear on two feet that seems to slide on the snow is moving towards him slowly
>feels his fingers losing sensitivity and gets freaked
>fast forward skii'ing out of the woods with the lump gliding above ground at sprint speeds
>creature doesn't make a sound 'cept for the sweep as it chases him
>can barely get away
>wobbles straight into the sauna without taking his skiis off
>put fire on
>leave the next day feeling the cold ever colder
>>16983098
Great story
>>16983098
Very good story man
