Author Topic: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread  (Read 225 times)

The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« on: September 14, 2020, 10:13:55 PM »
Scare the hell out of me please  :taz:



Online Hydra009

Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #1 on: September 15, 2020, 12:33:37 AM »

Online Mr.Obvious

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Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #2 on: September 15, 2020, 01:40:36 AM »
Four more years of Trump.

Four more!

Oooooooooh-oooooooooh!
*spooky handgestures*
"If we have to go down, we go down together!"
- Your mum, requesting 69 last night.

Atheist Mantis does not pray.

Offline drunkenshoe

Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #3 on: September 15, 2020, 03:59:02 AM »
While I'm looking at the pic Hydra posted this is what happened in matter of seconds. I'm sure something's going to change in the pic or something will move forward. I notice a small shadow on the slightly upper left side. Something blurry is standing on the road in there. I try to get ready for the image -I'm so sure some thing will happen- and I notice the shadow is moving down! I keep looking and looking... It's just little DUST on my screen!
"I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are good people and bad people. You're wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides." Havelock Vetinari

Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #4 on: September 15, 2020, 07:41:38 AM »
Four more years of Trump.

Four more!

Oooooooooh-oooooooooh!
*spooky handgestures*

Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #5 on: September 15, 2020, 07:44:41 AM »
8:18 By "Pumpkin Rot"

My neighbors are quiet people.  I rarely see them, but when I do there's always a friendly wave or a warm smile.  We almost never interact, so when they asked me over for dinner I was a little surprised.  And truthfully a little uncomfortable - I had gotten used to our somewhat antisocial relationship.  I had grown accustomed to our distance.  I'm a bad liar, so it was easier to say yes than to make up some excuse. They told me the night and the time and I told them I would be looking forward to it.
                       
I'll admit that I had a very nice time.  We didn't say much during dinner, but I felt welcome, comfortable, and relaxed.  Closer to 8:00, I noticed they had begun glancing at a clock on the wall.  Often, and with great discomfort.  And then with a palpable panic.

They feigned reassurance when I asked about their change in demeanor.  They both attempted to explain their behavior in overlapping dialogue.  I found this particularly unsettling.  Over their frantic words, I announced my appreciation for their hospitality and began to stand.

But then he asked, "Do you believe in ghosts?"

I was startled by the question and very uncomfortable.  I wanted to leave.  Badly.  I answered his question and told him that I had an open mind to such things.  And he asked me to sit.

He told me that he and his wife have had experiences.  He said that their house had a presence...a ghost.  He said that it came often.  Every night in fact.  He said it started in a corner of the basement, came up the stairs, opened the cellar door, and walked through the living room, into the dining room, and through the furthest wall.  He pointed at the wall next to where I was sitting.

I realized this was the purpose of the invitation.  They wanted a witness.  Needed one.  I could only think of two questions:  What does it look like?  and When does it happen?

He answered my last question first:  At 8:18.  Every single night.
We looked at the clock on the wall - 8:12.

Then he answered my first question:  We don't know what it looks like.

When I asked him to explain, he told me they had both been unable to look at the presence.  He said he and his wife have tried all these years, but can't.  I found this absurd.  And the entire story, which I had actually begun to believe was now either a hoax, a distasteful joke, or a delusion of two very disturbed people.  I pushed back my chair and stood.

A noise.  From under our feet, in the basement.  They looked down at their plates.  I looked at the clock - 8:18.

I could hear deep slow labored footsteps.  They sounded miles beneath us, but I knew that wasn't the case.  And then I felt the vibration.  A sickening wave of a nauseating low hum forced me hard into my chair, my legs and knees weak and useless.  I could hear the basement stairs creaking underneath a massive shifting weight.  I wiped cold sweat from my face.  The nausea was unlike anything I had ever felt.  I heard the knob of the cellar door be gripped, and then turned.  Slowly.  The door began to open.  The vertical crack of darkness from the creaking door seemed to release an even more intense low frequency hum.  I tried to stare into the darkness, to see.  To see IT.

But the putrid vibration was overwhelming.  My body contracted.  My legs and arms were drawn inward.  My entire body gripped the chair.  I could feel the muscles of my face contorting, and my eyes, as much as I fought to keep them open, closed.  Tight.

I could hear It.  Moving across the wood beams of the living room floor. They seemed to be groaning and splitting.  The sickening waves of vibration seemed to rattle every loose object in the house.  I wanted to cover my ears, but the piercing hum kept me frozen in place.  I tried to scream out, but the muscles of my jaw refused.  So I listened to it, coming closer and closer.  Ripples and waves of the sickening sound covered me.  I felt myself on the verge of fainting.  And I welcomed it.

But then It was gone.  I opened my eyes.  Just the three of us, in a quiet undisturbed house.  Nothing seemed out of place.  Except for the open cellar door.

That was three months ago.  We haven't spoken since.  And each night, despite making every effort to be busy or out of my house altogether, I find myself standing at the window which faces their house.  Looking out across our ordinary lawns.  Staring at that wall.  At 8:18
.

Offline Baruch

Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #6 on: September 15, 2020, 11:38:14 AM »
Four more years of Trump.

Four more!

Oooooooooh-oooooooooh!
*spooky handgestures*

Karen masks.  Be the Left anti-feminist on your street.
Ha’át’íísh baa naniná?
Azee’ ła’ish nanídį́į́h?
Táadoo ánít’iní.
What are you doing?
Are you taking any medications?
Don't do that.

Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #7 on: September 15, 2020, 05:48:47 PM »


“You are the sky. Everything else – it’s just the weather.”

― Pema Chödrön

Offline Baruch

Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #8 on: September 15, 2020, 06:23:12 PM »
Let auntie or granny pinch your cheek!
Ha’át’íísh baa naniná?
Azee’ ła’ish nanídį́į́h?
Táadoo ánít’iní.
What are you doing?
Are you taking any medications?
Don't do that.

Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #9 on: September 15, 2020, 08:05:00 PM »
Case: #273402
Status: Disastrous.

I stare at the file and realize I have no options, over the last 2 years every monster assigned to Charlotte Dower has quit, every last one. Her first monster; a giant goldfish-faced humanoid named Bubba, had been with her for four years, and then she wasn’t scared of him anymore. After that it was a string of different common, uncommon, and rare monsters… I even assigned a sentient sock monster to her. He came back crying!

I look on my tablet, only one assignable monster left; myself. Field work has never been my cup of tea, but desperate times call for desperate measures. So at 8:03 pm, after Mrs. Gideon tucks in Charlotte and her little brother Daniel; I slither into the space beneath Charlotte’s bed.
Across the room underneath Daniel’s crib is a rookie, Chico, a standard Creep kind of monster.

I turn my attention to the bed above me, Charlotte is still awake but barely, I reach up over the bed and run an ice cold finger over her cheek, silence, so I do it again.

"I’m not afraid of you monster!" She whispers, but her voice is shaking. I can see a small clock on the wall 8:14, a door somewhere in the house slams and there is an audible hitch of breath from above me. A few minutes go by I can hear Francis Gideon yelling at his wife. There are heavy footsteps on the stairs, and loud panting breaths, Charlotte scrambles off the bed and…

She. CRAWLS. Under. The. Bed. With. Me.

"Move. Over!" Charlotte hisses at me. I do.

The door to the bedroom slams open and I smell the stench of human intoxicants before the man even steps inside.

I know why Charlotte isn’t afraid of any of my monsters; she’s afraid of her own.

Francis reaches a hand under the bed and I thrust my wrist into it, he starts to pull, I slither out.

"What the…" I cut Francis’s next words off by unfolding to my full 12 foot height. Looming over the drunken man I caress my cold fingers down his face.

"If you ever touch, scare, or harm my child again, I will find you, and I will do the same to you, for all eternity." I promise to him.
As Francis runs from the room he soils himself.

I pull Charlotte from under the bed, tuck her back under her covers and kiss her forehead goodnight. "I'll be back tomorrow night, sleep well darling."

Charlotte Dower is my child, I am the monster under her bed.

source
Watch my fanfilm
The Null Zone

Film the sequel
Null Zone Part Two

Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #10 on: September 15, 2020, 08:41:05 PM »
Case: #273402
Status: Disastrous.

I stare at the file.....


That was clever...I wanted more...

Reminded me of this. I remember thinking this cure song might hint at some sort of abuse but was happy reading that it is not....still...


Online Mr.Obvious

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Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #11 on: September 16, 2020, 05:12:57 PM »
Young Davis Berger was not a remarkable lad, by his own standards. At the age of sixteen, he hardly found anything of note about himself. His hair was black. His eyes were dark.  His face a competing ground for patches of facial hair and acne. The latter recently gaining ground, but it proved if anything to be a gruelling marathon.

His friends were few. His grades average. His physique underwhelming, at best. Where the cycle of dissapointing social interactions with his peers, leading to more self-induced hermit-like behaviour and awkwardness had started, he didn't know. And most of the days, he didn't care. Nor did he care to find a way to end it. Deep down perhaps he longed for the acceptance of those around him. But it was hidden deep, deep down; beneath alternating layers of discontent and self-pity.

Before the virus came, he'd enjoyed going to the local book store. Reading was one thing he loved to do. And above all, both the fantasy and horror genres spoke to him. Aside from that, he played many a video-game. But true contact, was almost solely reserved for the occasional game of D&D with a few other like-minded souls. Friends. But friends who, in truth, he only kept around because sometimes the crushing weight of loneliness became unbearable, rather than for their sparkling personalities. Roger couldn't say a single sentence that wasn't a bad joke. Mark had to weigh thirty stone and his constant shoveling of fastfood and eating with an open mouth was nauseating. Davis was no saint in that regard, he had a paunch he detested. But he prayed to whatever out there that might listen, that he'd never let himself go like that. Nor like Jamie, who seemingly had never heard of a little thing called deoderant.
These were friends. By lack of better. And he knew, behind the laughs and superficial fraternity, they thought of him in the same way. Keeping him around only because of a lack of better options.

But as the corona virus had swept the world off it's feet, even that social outlet had faded. It was just him in the house. His father had long since gone for a pack of smokes, only never to return. And his mother had chosen to spend the lockdown with her new boyfriend. On the one hand he hadn't minded. He'd grown accustomed, more than his fellow classmates for example, to the cold embrace of isolation. But even he found it hard to keep his daily routine. There was little incentive to get up. Most of his awake time was spent playing video-games or reading. But around him, night and day faded into one. And reality and escapism entwined as well. Most days he caught himself talking to himself. A trait he hadn't done since he'd been a small child; talking to his doll; Francine. The bullies in his formative years had beaten that straight out of him. He was dismayed to find himself falling back into it. It brought back bad memories. To this day he still didn't forgive his grandmother for getting him that doll. What had she been thinking, giving an actual girly doll to a boy-todler. Perhaps there everything had started going awry. In the end he'd tied a brick to the doll and thrown it down the well in the backyard.
He almost always attended the online classes, solely to maintain that slim semblence of a passage of time. A day was no longer the arching of the sun in the skies. It had become the lectures of his worn-out, balding teacher, mister Arkamay. Or another of the man's cohorts. And weekends had become a dreaded void. It was too embarassing to admit that he'd now come to look forward to the uninterested gazes of his fellow classmates. The sound of their voices. The few hours of interaction, no matter how one-sided. For Davis hardly ever raised his voice. He had no questions to ask. He didn't want to say anything stupid. He didn't want to be put on the spotlight.  He just wanted to belong, and that was easier, when people tended to forget he was there.

But it was Mr. Arkamay's class that he took, that day. Aftere some dreary explanation of the mitochondria, it came to a close. And Davis recalled well hearing the balding man's voice near the end of it. "Alright class." He said. "We'll pick this up on thursday. And next time, maybe we tell our little sisters to stay in their own room? So they don't distract us? Alright?" The man finished as he turned his webcam off and dissapeared from the screen.
There was some snickering amongst his classmates as they too dissapeared one by one.  But Davis didn't truly understand why. He hadn't even noticed a child running amock during the session. He scanned the fleeting last images of his fellow students and still couldn't find it.
He was the last one in the chatroom by then. He usually was. He tried to linger as long as he could. For now came the lone hours again. The boredom. The crushing solitude. The self blame. Now he faced reality again, knowing full well he would not like what he'd see. Much like looking into a mirror.

With a sigh he shut down his laptop. The screen faded to black, becoming a dark mirror on his barren room.
But not empty.
The abbiration caught his eye. Reflected in the screen, some ways behind him, by the open door, stood a shape. A figure, short and slightly hunched over. It was hard to make out in the black mirror. But the shock prevented him from turning around. The shape, roughly the size of a small child rose now. Slowly. Her face becoming visible from beneath the wet strands of hair. He could hear the water dripping to the wooden floor as she moved.
In her hand was something he could only imagine was a brick.

"Francine." He breathed. Finally managing to open his mouth.

It was hard to tell, in that black mirror. But it seemed like hers opened too. Far wider than it had any right to.
« Last Edit: September 16, 2020, 06:49:28 PM by Mr.Obvious »
"If we have to go down, we go down together!"
- Your mum, requesting 69 last night.

Atheist Mantis does not pray.

Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #12 on: September 16, 2020, 06:18:52 PM »
Holy shit. I got chills. I never get chills.

Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #13 on: September 17, 2020, 11:35:57 AM »




Online Mr.Obvious

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Re: The Hallowe'en 2020 Scary Thread
« Reply #14 on: September 17, 2020, 05:01:25 PM »
I might not live through the night. I can hear them downstairs. Tonight might be the night they dare to break through.
If you are reading this. Find my parents. Tell them I love them. Tell them not to look for me. I don't want them to find me.
And tell them I'm sorry about my brother. I didn't mean for any of this.
And burn this house down. Burn it down! the ground. Don't make the mistake I made. It can not be kept at bay. It can not be contained. Leave no wall standing.
They come from out of the walls.

I've lived here for all my life. My parents, they raised me here. This is my home. I could not destroy it. Even with them now residing at Trewin lodge, it held too many memories. So I thought I could live with it. When that hole first appeared, in the living room's northern wall, I thought I could live with it. Ignore it. It was just a small hole in the wall. But every month and every year it grew bigger, after they left. Deeper and wider, corrupting the wall further and further. The rot spreading like some filthy disease! It captivated me.

When I was at home, at first it caught my eye unwillingly but occasionally. And steadily that attention grew. At work I couldn't stop thinking about it. So much so that they asked me to stop coming in. I was hearing them by then. Their hungry clicking noise. And I could imagine their pale skins ands long limbs. Their boney backs and blind faces. And always, right before weariness took over, drifting me to uncomfortable slumber, I could catch glimpses of them.

They couldn't see me. But they could hear me. Smell me. I am sure of it.
I had to keep watching. It was the only thing keeping them at bay. I sat there day and night, watching that horrible, corrupted hole; a door to some cancerous alternate dimension. And I could feel their hunger and hatred, seeping through. I sat there, fire-ax in hands, day and night. Protecting my home. Protecting the world.
Keeping you safe, whoever you are. I had too. I was the only one who could.

I was the only one who saw them.

My brother... Was it five days ago? Or six? It's hard to tell now. He came by. To check up on me. To be certain that I still took my pills. But I had to stop that.  They made me sleepy. And I needed to stay awake.
He'd let himself in. I explained it to him. I showed it to him. But he couldn't hear them. He didn't see them from the corner of his eyes.
He tried to drag me away. Take the axe off me.

I don't know how it happened. I can't remember if it was an accident. If I was angry, like that time with George. I don't know.
But I set him there. Axe in hand, to keep guard. I needed four rolls of tape to keep him propped up and bind the handle in his hands.

I had to sleep. I was so sleepy.
And it worked. They can't see, you see. But they could smell him. They knew he was there and they dared not enter.

But I hear them again now. And I'm sorry. I can't go down there again. I can't apologize to my brother. I can smell him now too, up here. They must be learning... Understanding why he is so quiet.

If I make it through the night, I'll burn this place to the ground.

Tell my parents I love them.
« Last Edit: September 17, 2020, 05:03:12 PM by Mr.Obvious »
"If we have to go down, we go down together!"
- Your mum, requesting 69 last night.

Atheist Mantis does not pray.