Scratch

Wickimen wrote:

So just don't go to the beach on July first :3

Do ghosts have nothing better to do than freak out people?

Awesome, that was awesome.

@helltank I saw that coming but it was epic 

This is a scary story at first, but ends with a laugh 

Back in 1957, late at night, a girl called Roberta was left home alone while her mother went to the supermarket. She was peacefully playing with a ball when she saw a small orange light outside. She just ignored it, but couldn't help being a little creeped out. She went into her room (she had a walk-in closet) and around the corner was the same light. She was getting scared. When she left her room the hall door was swinging so she walked up to it and it swung and hit her in the face. Even though her head was bleeding, she just walked through.

The next thing she saw was writing on the wall (written in blood) saying 11:15, she looked at the clock. it was 11:12! She sprinted out the door and ran to the supermarket, and she saw dead bodies everywhere. Inside the supermarket she saw a boy carrying a lantern which shone the same light as what she had been seeing. She ran back home and jumped into bed. She heard footsteps, *bump* *crash* She turned around and it was her mother.

"I got the groceries, honey!"
"What's with the dead bodies?!" Roberta stammered.
"Oh, about that," says mother. "They were in my way when I was driving so I just ran them over, is that okay with you honey?"
"Yes, mommy.."

But there is one question...
What was the light?  xD

Wickimen wrote:

Agentpieface wrote:

story

lol

Uh oh... TODAY IS JULY 1ST
I'm trying to think of another scary story to write :p

soupoftomato wrote:

Guys, just snip the uber-long stories out of those posts. Think about those who don't like Pocket Monsters.

Anyway (I take no credit ):
Once, there was a boy who loved to read. He read everything he could get his hands on, and loved going to his favorite book store. One day, the boy realized he had read everything the store had to offer. He confronted the owner, and asked him if he had anything the boy had never checked out. The owner said why, yes, I do, and pulled out a book called “Death”. He gladly sold it to the boy at a discounted price of $50. However, he warned the boy, never to read the front page.
Well, the boy returned to his house and read the book, and he was content. However, he always wondered, what could be on that front page, it was always in the back of his mind. One day, the temptation was too much for the boy, and he flipped to the very front of the book, and dropped the book in HORROR. There, in bold print, was MSRP $6.99.

AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

fallengames wrote:

Warning


I’m doing this for you. And for Mike, too, I guess, though I don’t think there’s much I can do to help him at this point.

I suppose I should provide some background information first. I’m a sophomore in a fairly good university in Boston – no, not MIT or Harvard, but still one that’s a bit of a chore to get into. My freshman year, I had the option to live in honors housing and decided to roll with it; after all, at least the people would be interesting. Whatever arcane algorithm they use to process roommate requests took in my preferences and spat out the name of my future roommate: Mike, just another random honors kid from St. Louis. The two of us got along fine for most of freshman year – my enjoyment of Miley Cyrus notwithstanding-and so we decided to room together sophomore year as well.

Now, Mike had always been a pretty obsessive guy. He tended to bounce around in his interests; one week, he would devour entire series of anime, only to later start watching random online episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000, and then begin working his way through the archives of the hottest new webcomic. And, of course, like any real obsessive, he would keep me posted on his latest craze. I humored him; what else are roommates for?

One day earlier this week, he started telling me random scary stories. You know, those random things you find on message boards-I think his main source ended up being some site called “creepypasta” (I never understood why pasta could be creepy, but whatever). I’d hear about a med student eating an arm, or someone being autopsied alive, or some random youtube video that will drive you insane. We usually had a good laugh about them.

The third day of this obsession, however, things got weird. He threw a few more stories my way before hitting the sack, but something seemed a little off. His voice had a sharp edge to it. As the hour got later, his banter got more and more inane, as though he were talking just to stave off having to go to sleep. Eventually, I pointedly got into my bed and rolled over, effectively ending any further chance at conversation. I wish I hadn’t.

I sleep like a log, and that night was no exception. I don’t think I even came close to waking. Usually I can’t remember any of my dreams, but the nightmare I had that night has been clear in my mind for days now. I dreamt I was trapped in a fog so dense I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. The damp air sent chills down my spine. I could hear muffled screams in the distance. There didn’t seem to be any words, just guttural shrieks of pain. Instantly (don’t ask me how), I recognized the screams as Mike’s. I tried my best to run to him, but my feet just slid through the fog; I couldn’t get any real traction on the ground, if there indeed was any ground. The screams got further away and more indistinct, though I could still tell they were Mike’s. Eventually, they faded to nothing and I woke up.

And every last trace of Mike was gone from the room.

Everything. His laptop, his sheets, the “Official Zombie Survival” guide poster on the wall, the heap of trash he let accumulate on his half of the windowsill-everything. A thick layer of dust coated his entire side of the room. Absolutely nothing on my side of the room had been touched-nor had any of his stuff in the bathroom, the kitchen, or the living room of our suite. Only in the bedroom had anything been taken.

I couldn’t believe it. I prayed it was a dream. I pinched my elbow until the skin was red, until my fingernails drew blood. When I didn’t wake up, I dialed campus security, who quickly brought in the Boston Police Department. I was immediately kicked out of the room so they could go over everything with a fine-toothed comb.

I think I must have been in shock. I felt completely numb, like nothing around me really mattered. I’d left my laptop out in our suite’s common room, so I used that to distract myself-or to try to, at any rate. When I popped open the laptop, however, a word document stared at me. Its text was the following:

‘I know this is stupid. I can’t help but think how much I’ll regret this in the morning, but for some reason I’m genuinely scared and I feel like this is the only way I can tell someone why. So here goes: earlier, I was scouring the ‘net for short horror stories-you know, rituals, tales of scary places, and the like. I came across this…warning, I guess it was. I won’t say what, and I won’t say where, for fear of you finding it yourself. Suffice it to say it sent chills down my spine, something not much has managed to do. Still, as has become my habit, I just clicked on the next hyperlink, going ever farther down the rabbit hole.

The warning stayed with me, though. In the back of my head, just nibbling away, waiting until I would focus on something else to rear its ugly head. This was irrational, I knew; my mind was just playing tricks on me. Some ancestral fear had been played upon, some age-old nightmare that was just that-a nightmare, no more and no less. But that didn’t make the fear go away. Only when I looked at the clock to see how long I had until you got back that it dawned on me I had passed the time alloted me by the warning to stop what was coming (any vagueness is out of concern for you, I promise).

And then the real anxiety kicked in. My palms started to sweat, and my eyes refused to stay closed for more than a second at a time. All my hairs stood on end, and I could feel my heart rate start to increase. Instantly, I knew that the warning had been real. And I had failed to heed it. My time was limited.

It was about then that you got back from the TV station. I was so glad to see someone else, I can’t imagine how I sounded. Finally, someone to fight off the dark with, a companion against the now terrifying night. But clearly you weren’t interested; your yawns were a dead giveaway. You headed to bed, and I (to stave off sleep a little longer) decided to write you this. Do me a favor – if I’m wrong, forget this ever happened. If I’m right…warn them.’

So that’s what I’m doing. I’m warning you. Just be careful. Next time you go on an archive binge at creepypasta, or start checking the horror thread of your favorite discussion board, or even just try googling “creepy stories,” if you feel a chill run down your spine at some warning you’ve never read before you might want to heed it. If you decide not to, however – if you just click on your merry way-please tell Mike I’m sorry I couldn’t get to him in the fog.

Credit to creepypasta.

write another story. or else

Wickimen wrote:

July 1
A scary story...
In the summer of 2004, when I was nine, Mom let my older brother Lewis take me and my little sister Peggy to the beach unsupervised. She said that Lewis, being fifteen, was old enough to look out for us, even though he griped about it the whole morning. I loved living in California; so warm and close to the beach, unlike Oregon, where we had been up until Peggy was born.
    I played games with Peggy and built moats for our castles, and we dug for sand-crabs. Peggy’s face was bright pink because she’d refused to put on sunscreen, and Lewis didn’t mind what we did. It was a perfect day, July 1, 2004.
    Then Peggy started to join some other children at the shoreline. They would stand on wet sand and shriek and jump back when the tide came in. “Don’t do that, Peggy…” I said. “You can’t swim.”
    “Neither can you!” she said, giggling, in front of the other five-year-olds. That was so embarrassing! I didn’t need a gaggle of five-year-olds knowing I had never learned to swim. I decided I didn’t care what Peggy did.
    Peggy got too brave. She walked out too far, where the waves came in. “Peggy McKay!” I shouted. “Come back right now. You know you shouldn’t do that. It’s dangerous. Come back right now! Peggy, aren’t you listening?”
    Except she wasn’t.
    The others cheered her on. “Go, Peggy!” one of her little friends shouted. “You’re braver than your sister,” she added, looking right at me. That stung. Maybe I wasn’t as brave, but I was smarter, and I didn’t care what those little kids thought of me. I did, however, care about Peggy, and the fact that what she was doing was dangerous—and that she was ignoring me!
    I ran out to where Peggy was until the water was up to my waist. She was in her bathing suit, but I was wearing shorts and they were soggy. Mom would be so mad if she knew I was ruining my new summer clothes. “Peggy, come back now,” I pleaded.
    Peggy looked at me. “You’re just scared, Vicky.”
    “I’m not…” I shuddered as something slimy brushed my foot. A piece of seaweed? An eel? I didn’t care to know. “But,” I said, taking authority, “you’ll be in very big trouble if Mom and Dad find out you’re going out so far.”
    “Nah, nah, nah-nah-nah!” she screeched, splashing me and soaking my yellow shirt.
    “I hate you!” I screamed, just as a huge wave roared in. A big one. I felt faint, I was scared of the ocean, I admit it, I was I was I was… The foamy white and black crashed over me and I was enveloped in salty water that burned my eyes. My lids squeezed shut and I gasped for air, but instead, water filled my throat and mouth. Choking and spluttering, I groped blindly for Peggy.
    My head rose briefly above the water, with my mousy brown hair plastered to my forehead. “Peggy! Peggy!” I screamed. I didn’t see her pink face bobbing anywhere, and with a thrill of dread I realized that she must be still underwater. I dove beneath the water again and plowed down. My heart raced. I had to close my eyes or else get them burned with salt. Peggy… Peggy…
    My hand went out and grasped something thick and cold and slippery, and I was so scared that I screamed out loud. Again nasty salt water drained down my throat and I tried to breathe in a panic, but I couldn’t, my lungs were being filled—
    For a moment, my eyes sprang open and hardly stung at all. I was shaking and my lungs screamed for air, but I was so far from the surface… I didn’t care much at the moment. Where was Peggy? I had to save her! Cold words slipped into my brain: “Children can drown in an inch of water.” Drown?… Drown… Drowning… falling slowly…
    The first thing I heard was shouting. Someone gasping, “Are you all right?”
    I hadn’t drowned! My heart leapt, then sunk rapidly. “Peggy,” I choked out. I sat up. Two people were in front of me, staring down at me, their figures blurred. A mother and a red-headed girl around my age.
    “Who’s Peggy? What? …Are you okay, little girl?” the mother was saying, reaching out to help me up.
    “Don’t!” I said. “Don’t…” I got to my feet by myself. My voice shaking, I said, “Peggy. My little sister Peggy. Where is she?”
    They both stared at me, lips parted in evident confusion. “Oh no!” the mother said, suddenly understanding. “Your sister Peggy was underwater with you, wasn’t she? Oh no! How old is she? Can she swim?”
    I shivered. “No! Neither of us can! She’s only five…” My eyes were stinging and hot, salty water dripped down my face, the kind that wasn’t from the ocean. “We have to find her. She might…”
    They both looked stricken. “I’m sorry, honey,” the mom said gently, “but there isn’t much we can do except call 911 and get the lifeguard.”
    “No! Now! We have to find her now!” Didn’t they understand how quickly someone could drown? “We don’t have time to get the lifeguard! He’s all the way across the beach and… and… why didn’t he see me go under?” I whispered.
    She sighed. “I don’t know, honey. I don’t think anybody saw you… you shouldn’t wander like that…”
I wished she wouldn’t call me “honey”. She was a perfect stranger. “My name is Vicky,” I said clearly. “Vicky McKay.”
    The woman nodded. “Yes. Vicky. Where is your mother, Vicky?”
    “She isn’t here. My brother is watching—my brother! Lewis! Lewis, where are you!” I turned and scanned the beach, but it was only a bunch of unfamiliar faces. That group of five-year-old jerks had disappeared off somewhere, too. “Lewis, you moron, both your sisters almost drowned, didn’t you see—see…” I turned to them miserably. “He’s gone! I don’t see him.”
    “Oh, no,” the woman sighed. “You two stay right here, okay? Do not go anywhere. I’m getting the lifeguard.” She ran off.
    The girl stared at me wide-eyed. I found it very creepy. “Vicky… is your sister going to be okay?”
    “I don’t know! You tell me!” I tried to stop crying. “What’s your name, anyway?”
    “Anne,” she said hesitantly. “Oh, Vicky, I’m sorry.”
    “Be quiet… please.” I knew it was mean, but I couldn’t help it.
    Anne said, “Do you want any chips?”
    “No, thank you,” I mumbled. I wasn’t feeling hungry.
    Anne’s mother ran back with the lifeguard, who promptly dived in and began his search. I waited. Minutes ticked by. He emerged from the waves, wet and empty-handed. “Nothing,” he said. “I’m real sorry,” he added, with genuine sympathy, “but I’ve looked everywhere. If she’s still under, your sister is probably—”
    “Don’t!” I interrupted. “Do not say that!”
    They made some calls, and Anne’s mom said she would take me home. “Look,” she said. “We weren’t able to contact either of your parents. You’d better come with us.”
    Her commanding tone surprised me. “I have to see if they find her…”
    “There’s no use waiting around,” she said in a less hard voice. “Now come along, Vicky.”
    We walked to her house. When I saw it, I jumped in surprise. “What?” said Anne.
    “That’s the haunted house,” I said. “The boys say that ghosts live there. Nobody’s lived there for years and years!”
    Anne’s mother half-laughed. “We just moved in three months ago.”
    “I’ve never seen you,” I said suspiciously, but I went inside anyway. Well, I wasn’t over on this street much anyway, and besides, it was clear the house was lived in. It had obviously been fixed up. Still, it bothered me. I had never seen them…
    I was too anxious and upset about Peggy to dwell on it for too long. Anne’s mother offered me some dry clothes, but I said no thank you, I was quite dry already. It was true, too. It must have been the hot sun.
    Anne and I sat alone in her room. I played with a strand of hair, feeling upset.
    “Sorry about your sister…” Anne said awkwardly.
    “She’s fine! Fine, fine, fine,” I snapped. “She didn’t drown or… or anything. She’s fine. They’re going to find her.”
    Anne looked down. “Okay. Sorry.”
    “You don’t get it,” I said. “You’re an only child, aren’t you?”
    “Yes… but…”
    Suddenly Anne’s mother entered the room frowning. She was on the phone. “Excuse me, Vicky,” she said, “but the police would like to know… what school did your little sister go to?” she asked.
    “She was… she is,” I corrected myself, “she goes to Herring Elementary. She was a preschooler this year, and she’s going into kindergarten in August. She is,” I added, as if nobody had heard this.
    Anne’s mom spoke to the officer. A few minutes later she came back in. “Vicky,” she said seriously, “Peggy doesn’t exist in the Herring School records.”
    I stared in shock. “But… but…”
    “Vicky.” Her voice sharpened. “Listen, they’ve checked records of incoming kindergarteners. They’ve checked the records of the 2005 preschool class. There is no Peggy McKay.” I opened my mouth, but she interrupted. “Listen, Vicky, if you are lying… if this is a joke…”
    “It’s not! Really!” I said desperately.
    “Okay. Okay… Vicky, you were underwater quite long. I don’t know if this is possible, but do you think it is possible that your mind was affected?”
    I flew into a rage. “My mind is not affected! I’m not crazy! Somewhere Peggy is trying to swim in the sea alone, and who knows what might happen, and—all anyone worries about is her records! Is she real? Of course she is real! She’s my little sister! And it isn’t 2005—it’s 2004! July 1, 2004!”
    Both Anne and her mother gaped at me. Something in their eyes made me scared. “Anne,” said her mother quietly, “look after Vicky a moment.”
    As soon as she left, it hit me with a sudden terrible feeling of horror. “Anne, you’re a ghost! That’s why I never saw you! You live in a haunted house,” I almost screamed at her.
    Anne’s face was white. “What—I—you’re crazy, you’re really crazy! It’s July 1—2005!”
    “Ghost!” I screamed at her, and lunged. My hand went right through her neck and we both screamed.
    “MOM!” Anne yelled, terrified.
    I stood, pale and quiet, for just a moment, as the truth dawned on me. Then I ran out of the room, chasing her. Anne wasn’t a ghost; I was. I had been dead for a year. So, every year, I awoke on the first day of July  in the ocean, and dragged the next person down under with me.

do the people of the world a favor and publish a novel.

I HAS SCAREH STORY WITH PORTAL 2 INVOLVED. Is that okay?


Lost Portals



Well, with the happy release of Portal 2, I sold my Portal 1 disc. After I beat Portal 2, I needed a nostalgia boost. I watched all the YT videos I could get my computer to get to, but nostalgia just wasn't getting me. So I went to GameStop and bought  Portal 1 for cheap. Well, the cover picture was different. It showed turrets shooting at a dead Chell, and before the word Portal, scrawled in blood red marker, was LOST.
      I kind of was freaked out already, but I decided to torture. I put it in my Playstation whatever and then booted it up. When the opening screen came up, it was normal. I then started the game, going into the save to see what horrors awaited me.  Then I looked at Chell. I sat there, paralyzed with fear. She was a zombie, one of her eyes missing, a finger or two like so, and there was OBVIOUSLY blood on her.
      I walked along the corridor to GLaDOS's room. But she wasn't normal either. Her eye was red instead of her normal yellow. And ANYTHING that said APERTURE LABORATORIES on it, it just said: DEATH LABS. I knew it would make for some saucy creepypasta. Well, I did like normal with GLaDOS in Portal, and then the end sequence.
     Instead of Still Alive, it played a very deep, evil song WE PROBABLY ALL KNOW. NERD I thought. But I kept my eyes glued to the screen. And then GLaDOS stared directly at me, or Chell, whatever. And she said words, words I recognize, words I loved dearly.
      "Mewfie. Ghost. N. Scoli. Professor Zubat. Garx. Mewtwo. Arren. Iso." The words strung on. And then it hit the part where I screamed. "You lied to me..." and then I freaked out. Arren appeared on screen. Then my Pokémon Platinum player, my LeafGreen, etc.  I pushed buttons, though this THING didn't do anything.
        And then GLaDOS appeared, and said, "You have lied many times. You'll only lie again." And then, tears streaming from my eyes as I watched, my Scolipede be thrown into the incinerator, crying. I was on screen, emotionless from my head to my talons. And then a talon pulled out another ball. It released Darkness, my Giratina. "NOO!!" I screamed, as he was thrown into the pit. Then my Palkia. And my friends. And my family.
       Then Companion Cube. I couldn't watch, but I forced myself to. Instead of its hearts, it had the Scratch Cat on it. It was thrown. I cried for hours, after a turret came and stabbed the owl, which was me, to death.
         What is this hacker trying to convey to me? Nothing lasts forever? Everything will be destroyed, eventually? I don't know, but SOMETHING about the first one.
         The Scratch Cube fell for a long time. I cried and cried. And then GLaDOS said the moral. "Nothing lasts forever." Then she shut down, and my PS whatever immediately went to static-y stuff.

GarSkutherGirl wrote:

I HAS SCAREH STORY WITH PORTAL 2 INVOLVED. Is that okay?


Lost Portals



Well, with the happy release of Portal 2, I sold my Portal 1 disc. After I beat Portal 2, I needed a nostalgia boost. I watched all the YT videos I could get my computer to get to, but nostalgia just wasn't getting me. So I went to GameStop and bought  Portal 1 for cheap. Well, the cover picture was different. It showed turrets shooting at a dead Chell, and before the word Portal, scrawled in blood red marker, was LOST.
      I kind of was freaked out already, but I decided to torture. I put it in my Playstation whatever and then booted it up. When the opening screen came up, it was normal. I then started the game, going into the save to see what horrors awaited me.  Then I looked at Chell. I sat there, paralyzed with fear. She was a zombie, one of her eyes missing, a finger or two like so, and there was OBVIOUSLY blood on her.
      I walked along the corridor to GLaDOS's room. But she wasn't normal either. Her eye was red instead of her normal yellow. And ANYTHING that said APERTURE LABORATORIES on it, it just said: DEATH LABS. I knew it would make for some saucy creepypasta. Well, I did like normal with GLaDOS in Portal, and then the end sequence.
     Instead of Still Alive, it played a very deep, evil song WE PROBABLY ALL KNOW. NERD I thought. But I kept my eyes glued to the screen. And then GLaDOS stared directly at me, or Chell, whatever. And she said words, words I recognize, words I loved dearly.
      "Mewfie. Ghost. N. Scoli. Professor Zubat. Garx. Mewtwo. Arren. Iso." The words strung on. And then it hit the part where I screamed. "You lied to me..." and then I freaked out. Arren appeared on screen. Then my Pokémon Platinum player, my LeafGreen, etc.  I pushed buttons, though this THING didn't do anything.
        And then GLaDOS appeared, and said, "You have lied many times. You'll only lie again." And then, tears streaming from my eyes as I watched, my Scolipede be thrown into the incinerator, crying. I was on screen, emotionless from my head to my talons. And then a talon pulled out another ball. It released Darkness, my Giratina. "NOO!!" I screamed, as he was thrown into the pit. Then my Palkia. And my friends. And my family.
       Then Companion Cube. I couldn't watch, but I forced myself to. Instead of its hearts, it had the Scratch Cat on it. It was thrown. I cried for hours, after a turret came and stabbed the owl, which was me, to death.
         What is this hacker trying to convey to me? Nothing lasts forever? Everything will be destroyed, eventually? I don't know, but SOMETHING about the first one.
         The Scratch Cube fell for a long time. I cried and cried. And then GLaDOS said the moral. "Nothing lasts forever." Then she shut down, and my PS whatever immediately went to static-y stuff.

..whut.

samid11 wrote:

UltimateE-HeroNeos wrote:

samid11 wrote:

stop stealing deathnote quotes...

This my first time using a deathnote quote! Heck, that's the only death note phrase I know! XD

"L...you do know death gods LOVE apples..." - Ryuk

"I have become a corpse. I cannot answer. I am dead."-Beyond Birthday/Bryan Loki/Backup/B/BB/Ryuzaki