The Official Creepy Story Thread!

I love this thread! ^^

and well written stories croutons!! you really have a talent for this... more! more! moooore! :D
 
You asked for more and you shall get more!

This one is probably the closest to a real 'short story' I've written for this thread, and its inspiration actually came from an old legend I read as a kid, I can't remember its name though :( Its been made into bad movies, I know that. Hopefully my story will be better than the bad movies. I also wanted to try out the whole idea of writing a story from multiple perspectives, which is new for me. Just a bit of trivia, 'Olympus Resort' is a real place up in the mountains here in Utah. I think maybe one of the reasons I used it for this story is I am scared ****less of the place, as I almost died there. If it weren't for two skinny trees to grab onto, I would've plummeted straight down into the canyon. Also, 'Bardsley' is an old family name, and 'Harry' and 'Celie' are both the names of my oldest pets. Enjoy, and as always, leave comments!

[blockquote]Hypothermia By Kadath Bird
The wind and snow was cold. No... beyond cold. It was freezing. Why I had left the cabin... I don't truly understand myself. I was wearing nothing but a bathrobe, and my bare feet stung each step I took through the snow. But I could feel myself getting closer... but I ask myself, getting closer to what? That is exactly what I intend to find out. Since early this morning, it had called my name. It had called my name, and I am answering. But with each stinging step, I grow colder and colder..

Somewhere, high in the mountains, a phone rang. The phone lay inside of a modernized cabin, of glass and plaster, not wood. A large sign on the outside read 'RESORT EMERGENCY SERVICES'. A clock below the sign alerted anyone who cared to read that it was 3:34 in the morning. The phone rang twice more, until finally, someone answered. “Hello, Olympus resort police service services, please state your emergency.” said a gruff voice, angered to have been awoken so early. “Hello? This is Harry Bardsley.. I'm in Cabin 32, with my son, but my wife, Celie, has gone missing. I haven't seen her for over 6 hours.” replied a nervous voice, obviously a mans, nervous and distorted over static. The gruff voice responded, “Sir, when was the last time you saw this... Celie? Interesting name.. anyways, when did you last see her? Was she with anyone?” There was a brief pause, when finally Harry responded. “I just told you, it was about 6 hours ago. We had gotten out of the bath when she told me she heard someone calling for her, and she just.. left the cabin in her bathrobe.” “You say someone was calling for her?” asked the gruff voice. “Well, I didn't hear anybody, but she insisted that somebody was calling 'Celie, Celie, are you out there, Celie?' and that's when she left.” Harry's voice became even more nervous by the second. The gruff voice sighed, then, “Okay, Mr. Bardsley, calm down. We can't do anything now, but we can send a search team soon as the sun comes up.” But Harry did not calm down. “But she will have frozen to death by sun up!! You've got to send someone out now!” The gruff voice did not like being yelled at, “Listen Mr. Bardsley, if you even want a search team, you are going to wait till sun up. I'm sorry, but there is NOTHING we can do until then. Goodnight to you.” The gruff voice hung the phone up. Inside cabin 32, Harry slumped against the wall and began to weep.

I've found a cave. I'm afraid of it, but it beats the cold, and I can hear water inside. I'm hoping maybe it's a hot spring, they have those here. I need to warm up my feet, or I might get the frost bite. You might be wondering why I'm afraid of the cave? The simple answer is; I think my friend, or enemy, may be in here. As I got closer to it I continued to hear someone, a'calling out my name, and it sounded like it was inside the cave. In fact, I can still hear it. It's an echo now... a bone chilling echo. My heart is pounding, and I put my hand on my breast to calm it but now I can feel my heart pounding through my hand, and feeling the explosive but unsteady rhythm makes me even more nervous. The cave gets darker as I venture further in, following the voice that has been driving me into this strange land. The echoes seem to become a single sound again, and I stop, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it. And the voice stops calling my name. It begins to whisper, softly. 'You shall burn into a fine dust as I drag you to hell!'

Harry sat in his slump, staring at his watch and ticking away every second, minute, quarter hour, half hour, hour, until finally his watch reads 5:50, when he hears his wifes voice, calling from a distance. “Harry? Harry? Are you out there, Harry?” He stood up, nervously but at the same time excitedly, and looked out the window to see if she was really there. As he looked out, he saw a shadow walking ominously away from the cabin. He couldn't tell if it was his wife, but the voice was definitely hers, so he grabbed his jacket and ran out, and followed the foot prints. He could tell she had even forgotten her shoes, as there were toe marks as well. He figured she must have frost bite, and he knew it was painful. He continued to follow the foot prints, when he noticed something odd, they began to stretch, with an odd black mark in the heel. The picked at the black mark, it was ash, hot ash. He followed the footprints as they got longer, more hot ash filled them. He heard his wifes voice again, but this time it was not calling for him, it was screaming, “It burns! Oh dear god, it burns!”. Harry began to ran, and as he did, the shadow he saw as he left the cabin came into view again, fire at it's heels. He yelled at it to stop, and finally, it stopped moving, and ran off. The flames died down and he ran towards what from his position, appeared to be a pile of ash. When he approached it, he could tell it was his wife, but everything up to her mid stomach had been burned away, and what was left of her was covered in burns. “Oh my god.. oh my god.. what happened to you?” Celie smiled and weakly managed to say, “It burned me to a fine dust, it was taking me to hell”. Harry searched his coat for his cell phone, and despite the fact that it read 'No Signal' he tried calling the emergency services.

Harry stood over me, this didn't look like hell, he must have saved me. But I made a promise with the creature.. it would give me warmth, save me from the hypothermia if it could take me to hell. I found I had no legs, just a chest and a head, arms and my hands. Covered in burns, it hurt, it hurt. I looked away from him, fiddling stupidly with his cell phone, and saw the creature on a hill above me. “Come Celie, come with me.” It came closer and closer, and I reached out my hand, smiling, and it took my hand and once again began to pull. This time I did not scream. The heat saved me from the hypothermia. And as the creature drug me, I slowly turned more and more into ash, until...

Harry finally realized that Celie was gone. He stood up and screamed, and followed the ash marks once again, until he saw the shadow at the top of the hill. Ashes blew down from the top of the hill, and he heard a voice, low and seductive, yet at the same time terrifying “She is gone. Now she is nothing but fine dust. Come with me, and you can join her.” Harry began to cry, he was to late to save his wife, his beloved wife. He lay down in the snow, and accepted defeat, and the creature came and drug him. Drug him into a fine dust, and pulled his soul into hell.

That morning, men from the Olympus Resort Emergency Services entered Cabin 32. In it, they found nothing but a 3 month old baby boy, and beside it, two piles of fine ash. Harry and Celie Bardsley were never heard from again, and many people believe they froze to death in the snow. But the search still goes on for their bodies. [/blockquote]
 
[quote1201305212= Evil-Jeste® =KK=]
ooo thats a good one man not as good as you last one but still good
[/quote1201305212]
It's kinda hard to compare it to 'Under the Bed' though when one fits under the comedy genre more than the horror genre :P Thanks for the comment though.
 
Wowzers, more excellent Stories! Croutons! I'm gonna have to save these in my Creepy-Story folder!
 
Here is the new one. Came from my fears of both cancer (I love studying genetics. Cancer destroys and mutates cells, essentially our entire being. To me, that is scary..) and spiders (I do have a respect for them too though, I find them fascinating to study, and it's not like when I see one I scream like a coward and ask someone to throw a shoe at it, unless it's one that poses a threat, I dislike killing them. I just don't want them near me, they creep the holy hell out of me.).


[blockquote]Malignant arachnid By Kadath Bird
Ever since I was a kid, I hate a strange lump on my head. I just thought it was a bump, until a doctor told me, "Soon, you'll be dead!". He told me it was cancerous, and since I hadn't had it checked out before, it had grown malignant. I still thought it was just a bump, that lump. Or maybe an insect bite.. yeah, that was what it was! An insect bite. That would explain why it was always itching. My house is full of spiders and mosquitoes, the mosquitoes fly high to avoid the spiders, but then we got spiders that liked to sit on the ceiling. But my doctor didn't care, "You'll be dead soon. Unless you've got good healthcare. But even then, you'll still be dead in a month or two." I wanted him to study the lump further, I wouldn't believe it, and thankfully, my doctor is friendly, and we set up an appointment to check out that itchy bump on my head to prove it wasn't cancerous.

Well, the MRI didn't do anything. But the x-ray came up with something odd. "I generally don't like to sound funny, but there's a party in that lump on your head, look at the x-rays, at those little dots. They're moving around, we have no idea what they could be!" But I had a feeling I knew what they could be. I had read rumors, legends, and tales, but I didn't think it was possible. I explained my theory to the doctor, and he laughed, "That's impossible, Spider's egg sacks are made from silk, not flesh!" but even so, I was afraid, that someday from that lump or bump on my head, fresh spiders would burst, and true to the doctors word, I'd probably be dead.

I waited, what felt like quite a few months, but was in fact only one week, and the lump swelled and swelled but no spiders came out in a leak. I began to get headaches, long ones at that. They drove me crazy, and one night I scratched. Scratched at the lump at my head. Scratched hard, and to my terror it split into 3 fleshy slices. Blood began to pour down all around my head, it felt as if an egg was cracked, except it was red. And then something else began to pour out, tiny and black, I laughed, for what reason, I do not know, but the next second I passed out, and I believe the doctor put it right, I feel pretty dead right now.[/blockquote]

EDIT: I decided to write two today. I had nothing better to do this morning. It's set in the same place and time as the Jack the ripper killings, but unlike 'Ghosts of Old London Alley' it's just set during that time, not actually inspired or based on him or his killings. Oh, and a little FYI, despite the ending of this story, I do NOT advocate smoking opium or doing drugs of any kind for recreational use.

[blockquote]Shadows over Whitechapel By Kadath Bird

The clock struck midnight. The darkness had already swept over Whitechapel, and all who stirred outside were beasts of violence and sexuality. I lived inside one of the few humble homes, no one ever partied here. No one was ever attacked by Jack the ripper. No one ever chased the dragon. But that doesn't mean that my house was exempt from the darkness.

Many people don't react when they hear the term 'the darkness' as, well, it's not all that strange for it to become dark at night. But here in Whitechapel, we speak of something else when we speak of the darkness. The darkness is, what you may call a curse over our town. Men & women will go missing, but they will come back in a most strange predicament. They come back, merely as a shadow of themselves. Their bodies have ceased to exist, but you will see their ominous outline climbing stairs, and sometimes even hear their disembodied voices. No one knows what caused the darkness, no one truly knows how to fight it off, other than light, but the shadows multiply in light, so while the light might save yourself from the darkness, it won't save you from it's victims.

I live, as I said, in a humble home with a wife, and twin daughters. I try to avoid the whores and the opiate users on the streets, but sometimes it is hard. I sometimes feel that they themselves have been affected by the darkness, and they turn to evil ways to avoid 'visits' from their loved ones. Every night, the darkness rolls over our home, I worry about my Linda, I worry about Emma and Alessa. I worry less about myself, as I am not selfish, but I do fear that one day it will grab me.

I stayed up late, this night. I sat in my living room, reading by candle light, when something caught my eye. Shadows. Strange shadows. On my ceiling, a million hands clawed their way over each other and up the stairs, I froze in fear but then quickly reacted and blew out my candle. The room went as dark as it possibly could, I could not see a thing. But I feared that it did not work, as I heard the sound of unknown men whispering behind me, and finally, laughing that began loud and then slowed down, distorted and sad. I quickly saw fit to relight my candle, but saw no shadows that were out of the ordinary. I walked up stairs, wishing I could run but I knew the wind would put out my only source of light. I entered my bedroom, and let out a sigh of relief as I saw a lump under the blankets that I knew would be my wife. But as I entered the children's room, my candle poured hot wax onto my hand. I shook it and shouted in pain, throwing the candle to the floor. I am lucky that the wind put the flame out before it hit said floor, or we would be in flames. My shout awoke Linda, who came in with a candle, this time in a lamp, but it did not awake my children. We walked in fear towards their beds, and found they were gone. I began to let out tears, ever so slightly but Linda began to literally cry aloud. I held her in my arms, but hope once returned, childish laughter was heard downstairs. Maybe they were playing out of bed, sometimes they've done that.

Linda & I ran downstairs, she held her lamp in front of her, and we searched the common room for any sign of the girls. I stood in horror, I saw them. But not as I had hoped to see them. As the light passed over the two chairs we had made for them, I saw the chairs rock, as if they were possessed, but in them each was a shadow. I could hear their voices whispering inaudible. In fear and sadness, I stammered and Linda finally noticed. The first words I could make out 'Mummy, Daddy'. They were speaking to us. Their shadows grew larger, and so did their voices. Were these really our beloved children?? 'Why don't you join us here, Mummy, Daddy?' I heard more whispering. Men, women, more children. The shadows of a thousand hands clawed their way down the sides of the walls and onto the floor, and as Linda tried feebly to open the lamp and blow it out, the hands grabbed onto her legs, and I saw her slowly fall through the floor, as the shadow-hands pulled her down into an unknown abyss, tears ran down her face as she said goodbye, before finally vanishing and was nothing but a silhouette. I grabbed her lamp and quickly snubbed it out. I heard the voices still whispering, but without the light, they could not catch me. Still holding Linda's lamp, I opened the compartment and dumped out the oil onto the floor. I took a match, and struck it, tossing it onto the oil and watching it start. I could see the shadows once more, but I ran for the door, and made it.

As I walked out into the seedy underworld of Whitechapel, I realized know why the people did what they did. I entered a nearby opium den, my entire body sweaty with fear, and lay down by a pipe and began to smoke. And as I did, I saw the lights in the room grow brighter, but they did not hurt my eyes, they relaxed them, and the shadows went away. My mind was at ease, and I knew now why these people were not affected by the darkness. [/blockquote]
 
Today is your lucky day... I decided to write a 3rd story. Don't expect this to disrupt my schedule, a new story should come out on Tues. but don't expect me to have creative snaps like this all the time. It's just that my parents have slept all day and I've got a migraine, so I didn't play too much on the computer...

I had a dream like this once. This was inspired by my love for insanity, tales of insanity, people who have insanity, just insanity in general. It's also, like 'Ghosts of Old London Alley' and 'Shadows Over Whitechapel' a period piece in London. I like London.
[blockquote]The Grinning Man By Kadath 'Croutons' Bird
Neil Klamp was walking down the street one early morning, wearing a nice tweed jacket, his black spatz clicking against the sidewalk with an almost tap-dance like rhythm. He had a spring in his step, and a twinkle in his eye, he was getting married, and he wanted the whole world to know. He told Chester, the local hobo, who was having trouble keeping his pants up. But Neil didn't care. He let the deli owner know, he even let a passing mutt know. But there was a man, wearing an odd top hat, that slightly slumped over his head, leaning against the wall, that Neil didn't want to know his big news. This man also had a grin on his face, ear to ear, as if someone had cut it there, nice and wide. Wider than one should be able to grin.

As Neil approached the grinning man his spring fell out of his step, and his twinkle dimmed from his eye, and he slowly and cautiously tried to avoid the man. But as he passed, the man put out a cane in one swift, but stiff movement, directly in front of him, blocking Neil on his way. "Uhm, excuse me." muttered Neil, "I have somewhere to go, and I must be going now." The grinning man stared up from under his slumped top hat and began to chuckle, a chuckle that would scare the devil. "But I've been watching you, my good chum" he said in between laughs "You've stopped to talk to everyone, to tell them a secret, a good one at that!" the mans grin grew hideously wider. "I've got no secrets, now let me pass." said Neil, still muttering but getting slightly more confident. The grinning man raised his cane, right up to Neil's neck. He then pushed a secret trigger, and a blade popped out from the end. "Everyone tells me their secrets, I'm such a cheerful man, why don't you tell me peacefully, and you can hop along to where ever it is, cheerfully. Just." The blade extended longer. "Like." Even longer, Neil began to shake and perspire. "Meeeeeeeee." The grinning man's grin now grew so wide, the laws of physics were sure to have cried.

Neil screamed, hoping to get a rise from one of the passerbys, but they could not hear him, or so it seemed. The blade then curved, as if it had a life of it's own, it tapped Neil's cheek, as the grinning man tutted him for screaming. "Now about your secret then? Or how about secrets? Everyone has to have something to hide." The grin grew even more wide. Neil stood there, in a last attempt to be brave, that he had nothing to hide. But as the words were leaving his lips, the blade grew longer, he could no longer see the tip. He felt cold steel coil around his neck, till the tip of the blade came 'round again, and began to tighten it's grip. Blood began to trickle, the warm liquid was quite a contrast to the cold steel. The grinning man widened his grin, his eyes seemed to pop, and Neil could take it no longer. His lips fell loose.

He told the man of his marriage, but in truth, that was something to disparage, when compared to the other things that fell from his mouth. "My fiancée, she was a whore!" Admitted Neil, "That was how I even met her!" the blade began to loosen it's grip, but the blade still tasted his blood, there was more from his lip. "I murdered a man.. not one, but two! And in cold blood, no less!" the blade finally loosened enough that it no longer cut into his skin, but it still coiled around his neck neatly. The mans grin did not cease, it grew larger, and he laughed with every secret with ease. "My mum did not poison herself, it was I who put laudenem and arsenic in her drink each night!" Secret, after cruel secret poured out of his lips, till finally the blade unwound from his neck. He gasped and grabbed his throat, it still bled, but not enough to make him pass out. The grinning man pulled him up, and bandaged his neck. He took off his strange top hat, spun it in his hands, and bowed to Neil. "I thank you good sir, I shall rid you of sin." But Neil had wished that the man would leave, but he did not. The grinning man still had his blade out, he raised it and slashed. Neil felt blood, run down his face. The grinning man produced from his hat, a small personal mirror, and handed it to Neil. Neil saw the man had cut a horrific grin into his jaw. Neil screamed, unheard by all, as the grinning man put back on his hat, and walked away, laughing the laughter that would scare even a thousand devils back into hell.
[/blockquote]
 
Awesome Croutons! I just go finished reading Malignant and Shadows! I'll look forward to reading your new one tomorrow!
 
Had a good friend draw this one up. No top hat, but it should still give you an idea of what he looked like :D
grinningmanqa2.jpg
 
I can't claim total ownership of this tale, as it is a retelling. My gf, Chie, who is Japanese, told me a very old ghost story once that I actually quite like, and this is essentially my retelling of it. I'll come up with something 'new' tomorrow, I just felt like sharing and keeping this thread fresh :) The 'notes' section is mostly for those interested in cultural facts, etc. They aren't crucial to understanding the story.

CULTURAL/TRANSLATIONAL NOTES:
*Literal reading, 'noppera-bo koi tsuribori.' There is no literal translation for Noppera-bo (It's simply the name given to the kind of ghost), however, koi is a kind of carp, and tsuribori means 'fishpond'.
**Heian-Kyo is the city now known as 'Kyoto', or 'Old prefecture'.

[blockquote]のっぺら坊,鯉釣り堀*(Noppera-bo of the koi pond) As collected from Japanese folklore and retold by Kadath Bird and Chie Sakaguchi
There once was a stubborn fisherman by the name of Yowamushi. Many found his name ironic, as it meant 'coward'. One day, he told his wife, Yuki, that he would go fishing in the imperial koi pond by the Heian-kyo** palace. "No, you mustn't! The pond is sacred ground, it would be a sin. Not only that, it is near a graveyard. You must not disturb the dead!" was his wifes response. But stubborn as always, Yowamushi packed his gear and set out. On his way, he was intercepted by a fellow fisherman, his face was pale and grave. "You must not disturb the peace of the dead! You cannot fish in the pond by Heian-Kyo!" but stubborn as always, Yowamushi ignored him. When he arrived at the pond, he was greeted by a beautiful young woman. When the woman learned of his intentions, tears filled her eyes and she knelt before Yowamushi, and pleaded that he not fish in the pond. He scoffed her, and pulled out his rod. But to his horror, she stood back up, and put her hands over her face, and wiped it clean away. Yowamushi, true to his name, ran off back to his wife. She was angered at him for going to the pond, and chastised him for his sins, but not once did he actually look at her, and when he finally did, she put her hands to her face, and wiped it clean off.[/blockquote]


FINAL NOTE: There is another tale of the noppera-bo, however, in that tale it is actually a different kind of spirit, known as a Mujin, pulling a prank on some passing samurai. He disguises himself as a lovely courtesan on the road and as they pass to talk to her, it reveals that it has no face, ultimately scaring them. In the Studio Ghibli (Responsible for such films as Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away, and Grave of the fireflies) film 'Pom-Poko' they have the same thing, except the spirit is actually a Tanuki, a racoon like creature, and instead of scaring samurai, they are scaring foreman who are trying to tear down their forest.

EDIT Jan 29th: Here is Tuesday's new story. It is somewhat based in truth, actually, as I cannot wake up at any other time than 3:00 am. It is always 3:00 am, on the dot. I also, once again, love tales of insanity. I've never killed anything, but sometimes I do wander around aimlessly searching for 'something' to entertain myself with, as I usually wake up with a pounding headache that a computer can't help.

[blockquote]3:00 By Kadath 'Croutons' Bird

I don't need an alarm clock anymore.
Every morning, every goddamn morning I wake up at 3:00. 3:00, right on the dot. No more, no less. The idea of going back to sleep? Hah. My body won't let me. If I try to, I get sick to my stomach, and am forced to jump right back up again and rush towards the bathroom. So what do I do at 3:00 in the morning? I wander. I wander aimlessly around my home, searching for something. I didn't find it in my basement, nooo. I didn't find it in the somewhat-of-butnotquite-an-attic, noooo. I didn't find it in my cat, who now lies in awkward chunks on the floor. Once dawn broke, I was able to nap peacefully.

3:00 am that next day, I went searching, searching for it again. I brought along a drill, and went outside. I started off small, picking through peoples filthy garbage. I didn't find it. I noticed one of the neighbours hadn't pulled their cans to the curb quite yet, lazy, lazy, lazy. I walked into their drive way, and went through their cans, when their dog started barking at me. I told it to be quite, I told it with my drill. And while I was there, I searched it as well. Nothing was found, nothing of use. I then noticed a light, a light in their house, the dog had alerted it's owner, and he was on his way out. I found a spade, encrusted with dirt, held it hard, just like a bat, and waited for him to come stepping out. And as he did, he came to the yard, and as he looked over his poor dog I slammed him on the head. You can guess what came next. Humans are much larger than dogs or cats, and this man was big, 3 times my size, I could've lived in him if I wanted, but what I was looking for was not inside, and I shambled home, as the sun begun to rise.

I sat in my arm chair, all riddled with glee, watching the news, recounting my acts in the night, they called me a 'murderer' hah! Wait till they find out, it was not murder, just a simple search on my part. They will be quite surprised, I might think. And as I sat there, grinning in glee, my cat came up and rubbed his head all over me. I smiled in relief, "Oh good, your back." and pet my cat, and then laughed and laughed.

3:00 am the next morning there was someone in my house. He stood at the foot of my bed, holding a dog on a leash. I recognized him as my neighbour, tall and wide, I laughed and giggled, as blood poured down the neck I had severed. "How did you reattach that, my good chum? It doesn't matter, I'm glad you're all better!" he was not laughing, in fact he frowned even worse. I stood up from my bed, and picked up his head. "Oh dear, it looks like it's still loose. But here's something we can all do with." I turned it upside down, and put it back on "There, we turned that frown right upside down!" But he still did not seem amused. He straightened his head, and grabbed my own and pulled it close to his lips. His teeth were sharp, and harsh, as he began to pull away the skin and flesh, and devour my brains. "So you've become a zombie, eh? I'm pretty sure the church doesn't look kindly on voodoo..." I said, but he didn't listen, he kept eating my head. Eventually pain surged through my body, and as I lost control of my limbs it convulsed and twitched, and soon he dropped me on the floor, where the dog ate the rest of me.

The next morning, at 3:00 am, the police were here, they looked over my body. I still thought, but I couldn't speak or move. They saw the drill in my hand, and somehow concluded, that I had ripped my own stomach open and devoured my own brains. Stupid cops, I wish I could move, I would search inside them, they have what I want, ignorance. Ignorance is bliss.
[/blockquote]
 
[quote1201746123=ROCKET CHUMP]
wow croutons, did you actually write some of these yourself?
[/quote1201746123]
I wrote all of them except the Japanese legend, and in the first 2 pages I posted stories by Neil Gaiman, which I put his name in the credits.
 
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