Scratch

fungirl123 wrote:

Mokat wrote:

fungirl123 wrote:

Is that supposed to be a scary story? 

Teehee... it's pretty scary!   
hi everyone.

Yeah not really

I personally found it mortifying

RedRocker227 wrote:

I don't really find any stories scary 
1. They're just stories.
2. Even if they were real, I don't get affected by gore.

Yeah. the stories on here all seem to be murder/gore/YOUR NEXT stories. meh.

samid11 wrote:

banana500 wrote:

Has anyone heard of this old poem called The Hearse Song?

It's seriously freaks me out.

DON'T EVER LAUGH AS THE HEARSE GOES BYYYYY......OR YOU MAY BE THE NEXT TO DIEEEEEEEE....... *shudders* ugh...

Why WOULD you laugh when a hearse passes?!

imnotbob wrote:

samid11 wrote:

banana500 wrote:

Has anyone heard of this old poem called The Hearse Song?

It's seriously freaks me out.

DON'T EVER LAUGH AS THE HEARSE GOES BYYYYY......OR YOU MAY BE THE NEXT TO DIEEEEEEEE....... *shudders* ugh...

Why WOULD you laugh when a hearse passes?!

I'm not sure. It was a stupid, gross, creepy poem. NOT TO MENTION THE CREEPY ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE BOOK.

I am never really scared by much fiction because I seem to be one of the best people I know at separating feelings for characters to real life feelings.

I've been called heartless for not liking most animal movies.

samid11 wrote:

imnotbob wrote:

samid11 wrote:

DON'T EVER LAUGH AS THE HEARSE GOES BYYYYY......OR YOU MAY BE THE NEXT TO DIEEEEEEEE....... *shudders* ugh...

Why WOULD you laugh when a hearse passes?!

I'm not sure. It was a stupid, gross, creepy poem. NOT TO MENTION THE CREEPY ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE BOOK.

Which book? I found the poem in this book called Scary Stories To Read In The Dark.

Also, I think the original first line was "Don't you ever think as the hearse goes by...that you may be the next to die?"

banana500 wrote:

samid11 wrote:

imnotbob wrote:

Why WOULD you laugh when a hearse passes?!

I'm not sure. It was a stupid, gross, creepy poem. NOT TO MENTION THE CREEPY ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE BOOK.

Which book? I found the poem in this book called Scary Stories To Read In The Dark.

Also, I think the original first line was "Don't you ever think as the hearse goes by...that you may be the next to die?"

It was

oh god
we all found the same book

*shudder*
Ok so
I'm not sure how
but I had a nightmare about that book
and then a week later
"More Scary Stories to tell in the Dark"
appeared on my desk at my dad's

SpriteMaster wrote:

samid11 wrote:

imnotbob wrote:

Why WOULD you laugh when a hearse passes?!

I'm not sure. It was a stupid, gross, creepy poem. NOT TO MENTION THE CREEPY ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE BOOK.

dude why did you have to necropost.

How is it necroposting? This thread has never gone more then 5 days without a post

BTW all the stories in that book, they aren't even scary, just creepy. To be scary they have to make sense. Most of those are like "Hes walking along and he sees a girl and then she turns into a monster and BOO!"
Scary is when it has a definite plotline and all events in the book are connected.

Last edited by trekkie2000 (2012-01-13 07:40:01)

a1130 wrote:

Seems like all the stories are of "Your next," gore, and violence. Not all of them are original, just random creepypasta that they found on Google.

Jane first noticed the clown one crisp January morning. She had thought at the time it was simply an optical illusion. She had just seen his makeup-coverd face for a split second peering through the window of her small house in a development in Kansas.

The second time it was scarier. It was at the gas station. She had been filling her tank and looked across the parking lot to see it crouched behind a bush, watching her. She had quickly swiped her credit card and sped off.

Then one night it REALLY got creepy. She had been brushing her hair and saw his face behind her in the mirror. She wasn't sure but she thought he was holding a gun. She whipped her head around and the room behind her was empty.

She locked herself in the bathroom and called 911 on her cell phone, trying to be as quiet as possible. She had seen in the paper how a serial killer had been on a rampage in her area lately, leaving his victims completely unharmed but without a head.

The cops had shown up ten minutes later and searched her entire house twice to no avail. Even still, they left an officer with her to keep watch over her.

That night she heard a rustling down in her kitchen and nearly had a heart attack. She rolled over in bed to alert the cop on the floor. He was gone. Heart racing, she grabbed a baseball bat from under her bed and headed into the hall.

She was almost to the living room when she heard a noise behind her. She turned around and saw the clown. It was holding a pistol. She tried to scream but no noise came out. He raised the gun at her head and fired.

The bullet whizzed straight past her head. She heard a thump behind her and turned around to see a dead body. It was holding a bloody knife in one hand and a head in the other.

It was the head of the officer.


Be sure to give me some feedback!! And if you didn't get the end It's understandable   


Y U NO READ MY STORIES >:U

100% ORIGINAL, I MIGHT ADD.

Last edited by DisasterMaster (2012-01-13 09:02:08)

NeilWest wrote:

DisasterMaster wrote:

a1130 wrote:

Seems like all the stories are of "Your next," gore, and violence. Not all of them are original, just random creepypasta that they found on Google.

Jane first noticed the clown one crisp January morning. She had thought at the time it was simply an optical illusion. She had just seen his makeup-coverd face for a split second peering through the window of her small house in a development in Kansas.

The second time it was scarier. It was at the gas station. She had been filling her tank and looked across the parking lot to see it crouched behind a bush, watching her. She had quickly swiped her credit card and sped off.

Then one night it REALLY got creepy. She had been brushing her hair and saw his face behind her in the mirror. She wasn't sure but she thought he was holding a gun. She whipped her head around and the room behind her was empty.

She locked herself in the bathroom and called 911 on her cell phone, trying to be as quiet as possible. She had seen in the paper how a serial killer had been on a rampage in her area lately, leaving his victims completely unharmed but without a head.

The cops had shown up ten minutes later and searched her entire house twice to no avail. Even still, they left an officer with her to keep watch over her.

That night she heard a rustling down in her kitchen and nearly had a heart attack. She rolled over in bed to alert the cop on the floor. He was gone. Heart racing, she grabbed a baseball bat from under her bed and headed into the hall.

She was almost to the living room when she heard a noise behind her. She turned around and saw the clown. It was holding a pistol. She tried to scream but no noise came out. He raised the gun at her head and fired.

The bullet whizzed straight past her head. She heard a thump behind her and turned around to see a dead body. It was holding a bloody knife in one hand and a head in the other.

It was the head of the officer.


Be sure to give me some feedback!! And if you didn't get the end It's understandable   


Y U NO READ MY STORIES >:U

100% ORIGINAL, I MIGHT ADD.

And it's already been posted.

Yes, and look at the author of that other post.

samid11 wrote:

bananaman114 wrote:

banana500 wrote:

Which book? I found the poem in this book called Scary Stories To Read In The Dark.

Also, I think the original first line was "Don't you ever think as the hearse goes by...that you may be the next to die?"

It was

oh god
we all found the same book

*shudder*
Ok so
I'm not sure how
but I had a nightmare about that book
and then a week later
"More Scary Stories to tell in the Dark"
appeared on my desk at my dad's

I agree. Its a good book, but the picture for the story "the thing" scared me SO BAD

Oh lord
I had finally fixed my mind
after 6 years
and you had to remind me -_-

DisasterMaster wrote:
I figured I'd try my hand at a saw trap, tell me what you think!!

BED OF NAILS

Jack woke up in a small room, the feeling of sharp, cold steel on his back.

A light in the ceiling flickered on.

"What the..." he muttered. He tried to sit up. He was strapped to the table. "Hello!!!!" he yelled out. "Hello!! Hello!!!! Anyone there!?!?!? Help me!!! Please, help meeee...."

A television switched on across the room from him. A man with a pale face and red targets painted on his pointy cheeks appeared.

"Hello, Jack" he said in a deep, husky voice. "I wanna play a game. You are lying on a bed of nails. When you are lying on your back, the pressure that is distributed among the nails will not be enough to impale you. The second you sit up, however, the nails will drive through your body. The straps are easily removable, put there so you would not sit up reflexively when you awoke. I didn't want the game to end so soon.

"Next to the bed you are on is a bucket. The bucket is filled with nails. There is a key hidden in the bucket. Once you locate the key you can use it to open that box beside of your bed. Inside it is a wheel. If you twist it you will be able to stretch the rope tied around your arm, thus also stretching your arm, just enough to reach the button on the platform above you. If you hit it the nails will retract. Hopefully it is just close enough so that your arm is not torn off. Hopefully...

"Across the room you will see a timer. It will begin as soon as this broadcast is over. You will have four minutes. You will find out what happens in your last few painful seconds if you are not out in time. Live or die, Jack. Make your choice."

The television turned to static. "HEY!!!!!" screamed Jack. "SOMEONE HELP!!!!!!!!! SOMEONE, ANYONE!!!!!!!!!" Jack looked at the timer. He knew he only had a small amount of time.

He looked at the bucket.

"AAAAAAAGHHHH!!!!!!!!!" screamed jack in agony as he plunged his hand into the bucket of nails. He yanked out his arm and swore several times, sobbing in pain as he took the nails out of his arm.

He plunged his hand back in.

3:14, 3:13.....

His hand touched the key. With one final, agonizing scream he tore his bleeding mess of a hand from the bucket. He transferred the key to his other hand, whimpering. He unlocked the box. He grabbed the wheel.

2:39, 2:38.....

He twisted the wheel. The rope attached to his arm slowly began pulling the bloody pulp where his hand used to be towards the button. He screamed obscenities as the tendons in his arm began to snap.

"GAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he screamed, letting go of the wheel to lower his arm back to his side. It was dislocated and nearly paralyzed.

1:52, 1:51.......

Jack began to turn the wheel again, sobbing heavily. The popping sound of his tendons echoed throughout the room. His arm was only inches from the button.

His other hand slipped from the wheel.

He swore several times, choking on his many sobs.

He gripped the wheel again.

0:46, 0:45.........

He twisted and raised his completely paralyzed arm to the button. It was centimeters away. He screamed over and over but refused to release the wheel.

0:17, 0:16

His finger reached the button.

The nails retracted.

He tore off the straps and rolled off the bed onto the cold, stinking floor. The timer rang. Several large stakes protruded suddenly and violently from the roof and jammed into the spot where Jack had been lying seconds before.

I'm alive, was his last thought as he passed out.




Again, I REALLY appreciate any and all feedback/critique!!!!

Who would do this?

Surrounded by darkness. My heart races. I feel blood pounding against the temples of my skull. I can't breathe. Fear has crippled me of my most basic needs. All, that is, but one. I feel a warm stream run down my left leg.
My lungs burned. I need to breathe but knew doing so would give away my position. That is, assuming the smell of my urine hadn't already done so. And then I heard it. A sound most men only imagine in their worst nightmares. The blood thirsty, anger driven, hate consumed scream of my persuer. My heart-rate increased. My body froze. My instincts shouted "Run, you fool!" but here I sit, frozen in terror. The smells of fear and * consume my surroundings. I'm finished, done for, doomed. In the darkness, I see two gleaming red dots slowly inching my way. Finally able to move again, I reached into my bag and removed the closest thing to a weapon I had, a long and slender surgical knife. I set my bag down on the ground, trying to keep the sounds of my other instruments quiet. It failed and alerted the attention of the red eyed beast before me. I scream and rush forward, brandishing my knife in the hopes to eliminate this bastardization of mankind with one clean cut.

The charge lasted only seconds. I heard screams, then the sound of this creature coughing blood, and finally nothing. The deed had been completed. The devil was dead. But what's this? The creature had delt a wound to my side. I felt the blood coming out of the gash and knew I too would soon be dead. I lay down near my victim, blade still in it's body, and awaited the cold dark embrace of death. Tears filled my eyes as I slowly drifted off to eternal sleep.

I awoke the next morning. A dream? The entire thing had been just a dream? What a relief! I was certain it had all been real. Even the pain in my side still throbbed as though I had been attacked. I went about making my breakfast that morning, liver with eggs over-easy. It was then that I looked at the newspaper on my table. The headline read "Jack the Ripper Strikes Again". My housemaid, Mary Kelley, comes in to hand me my breakfast saying, "Terrible isn't it? Who would do this? At least this girl left the Ripper a wound the police can identify him by...". It was then that she noticed the blood on my shirt where the gash was located.

Perhaps, it wasn't a dream after all...

Last edited by SpaceManMike (2012-01-14 09:26:23)