I LOVE YOU

I remember the day you were born. I was waiting to meet you. your innocent closed eyes were like two strong tiny hands clenching my heart. Fetching me towards you, inch by inch. I couldn't go away that day. I waited beside your mom. my heart was beating fast. I was thinking, " there you come. there you come". I was waiting to meet you. Then I saw your tiny little head. Your hair was wet. You were starting a brand new journey to this earth. It was such a struggle to pull you out from your mother's womb. Your mom was trying to push you with each deep breath and you were gaining your new life with each struggle. At last the Doc pulled you out. I touched your body. Every part of your body was so soft and young and so nice. I was so happy to see you. You were wet with goo and blood. Still you were looking so beautiful. Your eyes were closed and your lips were shut. Your eyes were telling a lot of things about this pitiful earth on that day. Though still your eyes were closed. That tiny but deep disturbance on your forehead. Like that of a king when something is not right. You were imperial. I fell in love with you.

Then I licked you with my long black tongue. Feeling my rough tongue slithering around your body, you couldn't take that anymore.You screamed for the first time. Your first cry. everyone was happy hearing you crying. I was happy too. You were good. In a salty way of course. That flavor of blood on your body was awesome. I still can remember that taste. You opened your eyes. I looked at you with my watery mouth, drooling all over your face. My dark eyes could see you through. You saw me and started crying again. The nurse sent you to your mom. You thought, you were saved from me. How Naive of you. After that day I have never left you out of my sight.

I sniffed you, licked you when you were not awake. You woke up with a jerk and started crying. Your mom came only to make you feel better for such a short time.

You started to grow up like I wanted you to. Remember, when you were 7 and none was there with you? You heard a deep voice coming under your bed. You were so coward even not to leave your fingers outside your bed. You slept but I was under your bed all the night. I'm still around. Examining every small steps you take, every time you move your head. Don't believe me? Don't you feel that sudden itchy sensation on your body. I'm touching you right now. You are so beautiful. I'm surely in love with you.

You call me Boogeyman!? No...No...No.... I'm not Boogeyman. I'm far beyond that. I live with you. I feed upon your soul. I feed upon your energy. I'll keep sucking you until your hair grow white. Your limbs go weak. People will start calling you old. And then one day you will become so weak that even your heart wouldn't have the energy to bit.

Death you say? That's some farfetched shit. People don't die. They just go weak. So weak that even moving a finger would be impossible. Then my time will come. I'll start licking you. You're body will get wet again like the first time you were born. But this time with my saliva. My stinky flesh eating saliva. hahaha I'm so excited.

Your relatives are great that they will pack you in a nice coffin and leave you 6 feet under ground. No matter how much you try you wouldn't get the energy to say the word "help". you're grave will be my dining room. personal dining place I say. hahaha. There's one problem though, my body is too big to fit in a mere 6 feet grave but I'll try to manage. Crawling on your chest would help me to fit in, I believe. What do you say? Don't worry. You won't get bored. I'm a multidoer. I'll eat and talk with you till I suck out your brain from your dry skull. Umm....I'm sooo excited. Getting goosebumps all over my slimy body. I can't wait to make you old. You're so beautiful. 

Teddy (Chain Letter)

Teddy (Chain Letter)

Once you read this chain letter you cannot get out. Finish reading this until it is done!

Hi, I am Teddy. I am 7 years old. I have no eyes and blood all over my face. I am dead. If you don’t send this to at least 12 people I will come to your house at midnight and I’ll hide under your bed. When you’re asleep, I’ll kill you.

Don’t believe me?

Case 1: Patty Buckles got this chain e-mail. She didn’t believe in chain letters. Well, foolish Patty. She was sleeping when her TV started flickering on and off. Now she’s not with us anymore. Ha ha Patty, Ha ha! You don’t want to be like Patty, do you?

Case 2: George M. Simon hated chain e-mails, but he didn’t want to die that night. He sent it to 4 people. Not good enough George. Now, George is in a coma. we don’t know if he’ll ever wake up. Ha ha George, Ha ha! Now, do you want to be like George?

Case 3: Valarie Tyler got this chain e-mail. Just another chain letter, or so she thought. Only had 7 people to send to. Well, that night when she was having a shower she saw a bloody figure in the mirror. She got the biggest fright of her life. Valarie is scarred for life.

Case 4: Derek Minse was a smart person. He sent it to 12 people. Later that day, he found a $100 bill on the ground. He was promoted to head manager at his job and his girlfriend agreed to marry him. Now, he and his wife are living happily ever after. They have two beautiful children.

Send this to at least 12 people or you’ll face the consequences.

0 people – You will die tonight!
1-6 people – you will be injured!
7-11 people – you will get the biggest fright of your life!
12 and over – you are safe and will have good fortune!

Do What Teddy Says!!!! Hurry, you must send to 12 people before midnight.

* Look! This is what we do. Introducing you with these types of things. Please don't embarrass yourself by commenting such things like you don't believe this or you don't believe that. It's your own decision. Just don't ruin the fun of others. May be he Is right under your bed. Sleep well, Readers.

Axe Murder Hollow (Urban Legend)

Susan and Ned were driving through a wooded empty section of highway. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, the sky went dark in the torrential downpour.
“We’d better stop,” s aid Susan.
Ned nodded his head in agreement. He stepped on the brake, and suddenly the car started to slide on the slick pavement. They plunged off the road and slid to a halt at the bottom of an incline.
Pale and shaking, Ned quickly turned to check if Susan was all right. When s he nodded, Ned relaxed and looked through the rain soaked windows.
“I’m going to see how bad it is,” he told Susan, and when out into the storm. She saw his blurry figure in the headlight, walking around the front of the car. A moment later, he jumped in beside her, soaking wet.
“The car’s not badly damaged, but we’re wheel-deep in mud,” he said. “I’m going to have to go for help.”
Susan swallowed nervously. There would be no quick rescue here. He told her to turn off the headlights and lock the doors until he returned.
Axe Murder Hollow. Although Ned hadn’t said the name aloud, they both knew what he had been thinking when he told her to lock the car. This was the place where a man had once taken an axe and hacked his wife to death in a jealous rage over an alleged affair. Supposedly, the axe-wielding spirit of the husband continued to haunt this section of the road.
Outside the car, Susan heard a shriek, a loud thump, and a strange gurgling noise. Butshe couldn’t see anything in the darkness.
Frightened, she shrank down into her seat. She sat in silence for a while, and then she noticed another sound. Bump. Bump. Bump. It was a soft sound,like something being blown by the wind.
Suddenly, the car was illuminated by a bright light. An official sounding voice told her toget out of the car. Ned must have found a police officer. Susan unlocked the door and stepped out of the car. As her eyes adjusted to the bright light, she saw it.
Hanging by his feet from the tree next to the car was the dead body of Ned. His bloody throat had been cut so deeply that he was nearly decapitated. The wind swung his corpse back and forth so that it thumped against the tree. Bump.Bump. Bump.
Susan screamed and ran toward the voice and the light. As she drew close, she realized the light was not coming from a flashlight. Standing there was the glowing figure of a man with a smile on his face and a large, solid, and definitely real axe in his hands. She backed away from the glowing figure until she bumped into the car.
“Playing around when my back was turned,” the ghost whispered, stroking the sharp blade of the axe with his fingers.“You’ve been very naughty.”
The last thing she saw was the glint of the axe blade in the eerie, incandescent light.

Justice

This may be the only case where an alleged spiritual possession led to a formal legal judgment of murder.
On February 13, 1936, the body of local resident Giuseppe “Pepe” Veraldi was found under the Morandi bridge in the city of Catanzaro, Italy. The body was in bad shape and had obviously fallen from the bridge above. The cause of death was determined to be severe damage to the head.
Due to the injuries and the lack of any evidence of foul play, the police decided it was a suicide and stopped any further investigation. Pepe’s family protested that there was no reason for him to have killed himself, but the police did not re-open the case.
The death was the talk of the town for several months, but it eventually faded from public gossip.
It wasn’t until three years later that Pepe’s death would return to the forefront of attention.
One morning in January of 1939, Maria Talarico, a teenaged girl of the city, was walking across the same bridge, as she had done many times before. About halfway across she suddenly stopped, walked over to the side from which Pepe had allegedly jumped,and mysteriously fainted. Several people were nearby and promptly arranged for Maria to be carted home.
Once in her own home, she awakened and initially seemed to be herself until she spoke. Instead of her usual voice, she spoke in a rasping male voice and told those present that she was Pepe Veraldi, and demanded to speak to his mother. After the shock had worn off somewhat, one of the neighbors ran off to fetch Mrs. Veraldi. During the wait, “Pepe” asked for wine and cigarettes and playing cards — proposing that he and some of the men have a game until his mother arrived. Needless to say, this was not in any way similar to Maria’s normal behavior.
Eventually Pepe’s mother showed up and he quickly told her (via Maria) that he had been murdered but did not name the culprit(s). As this information began to sink in with those gathered at the Talarico home, Maria quickly got up and ran outside to the exact place under the bridge where Pepe’s corpse had fallen. Those from Maria’s household followed her, and when Pepe’s mother arrived she ordered her son’s spirit to leave Maria. Apparently it did, as Maria instantly “woke up” but remembered nothing of the past since she had initially fainted on the bridge.
Most likely Pepe’s mother went to the police with this information, but without names, there was nothing they could do. And they might have found the whole story too difficult to believe.
The story would have ended there had it not been for a letter Pepe’s mother received nine years after Maria’s apparent possession. The letter was from one of Pepe’s former friends who was living in Argentina. He confessed to killing Pepe in an argument over a woman. Three other men helped him commit the crime, he said, and he named them — something Pepe’s ghost had not done.
Pepe’s mother now had something concrete to prove that her son had not killed himself. She took the letter to the police. One of the accomplices had died, but the other two were investigated, arrested, tried, convicted, and jailed.

Swanson Field

There's this place called Swanson Field. I haven't been up there for a while. Well, more than a while, probably years. I drive past it all the time, but this time for some reason or another, I stopped. I remember back when I was a kid, people always said the field was haunted, though personally I don't believe in ghosts, but it's got enough people spooked to catch my attention.

The weird thing is, it's just a field. No abandoned house or strange structures or anything. As I look around all I can see is the damp swampiness of the field. The only reason I really remember it is that when I was kid we would go there every halloween night. It's funny that I'm only remembering this right now.

All the kids in school would work on masks the day before Halloween. We used to call it Mischief day. Making the mask and getting ready for the walk through swanson field the next day. I would always work hard on my mask making it look really cool. The teachers would always put this sort of strange diamond thing on the forhead of the mask. that always ruined the look of my mask. The star thing made it look, well, lame.

We never went trick-or-treating, we always just went with our parents to Swanson Field then walked through it. But we were never allowed to talk about the field, let alone even walk through it other than Halloween night. My parents and the other kids parents never looked down at us when we were walking no matter how much we made a fool of our selfs or pestered them. We never made eye contact, and there was a rule that we could not take our masks off until our parents said we could.

There were also these people that moved out in the woods instead of inside the field. I could never recognize them from my town. When I saw them, they were people but they didn't move like people, they moved like deer. It was a sort of swooping up and down into the shadows of the trees, but they walked on two legs. They had great costumes, they almost looked real. The costumes were completely black with mouths on the back, the front, the top, and sides of the head. the reason I could tell see the mouths were that they were more of a grey-ish hue, instead of black, like the rest of the body.

It's funny, I could never remember how the night ever ended. I always woke up in my bed, and the last thing I could remember was taking off the mask or leaving the field. I probably just fell asleep and my parents brought me home.

Then, then nobody ever brought it up again. Grownups would get mad if you talked about the ghosts of kids in the field, hell I even remember a kid being sent to the dentention for drawing the little diamond thing on the forheads of the mask. I remember feeling annoyed about that if they hated the thing so much why did they make us wear it, always ruining my mask.




  Before Chrismas break the teacher would tell us a story about Swanson Field. They would tell it when the sun was setting really, really, early. The story was that people could hear the voices of kids in the field. I never really new why they did it, but nobody ever asked. It was a few days before Christmas so I had no reason to think about that. The teacher always said that Swanson Field was a special place, but you should never go there alone. And this is the first time I have been back on this field for almost 12 years. It's strange, I mean, I don't hear anything. Do you?

The Haunting Case of WWII

The Haunting Case of WW II
Ghost Planes
It's not hard to find reports of
World War II ghost planes.
Unfortunately, it's quite hard to
find documented sources of
these ghostly tales. The fact is,
they're all pretty much folk tales.
They take many forms, but there
are two basic types.
First, you have post-war stories
about people encountering
planes from the past. Typically,
you'll have a young couple out
for a country stroll in the 1960s,
70s or 80s. They hear an odd
sound and turn around to see a
prop-driven vintage warplane
cruising along at low altitude,or
perhaps an entire flight of them.
Some of these stories are heavily
embellished (the plane
disappears into thin air, the
sighting was a harbinger of a
tragic plane crash that happened
shortly thereafter, the ghostly
pilots waved sadly to the
witnesses as they passed).
Stories might incorporate
speculation about "time slips."
The second type is more
interesting. These are ghost
plane sightings that happened
during the war. In its most
common form, the story revolves
around a flight of planes thatleft
for a dangerous mission. Later,
all the planes return and are
accounted for except one.
Everyone watches the sky,
hoping they made it out alive, but
no plane appears on the horizon.
Then, hours later, the drone of
radial engines sounds in the
distance. A plane is spotted.
Could it be their missing
comrades? But, no they would
have run out of fuel hours ago.
Still, there it is, heavily damaged,
limping along toward the air
field. It makes a ragged landing
and fellow airmen rush to the
scene. Inside the plane they
find…nothing. Not a soul. Nota
corpse. And the fuel tanks are
bone dry.
There are variations – sometimes
the crew is on board, but dead.
Sometimes the plane is so badly
damaged there's no physical way
it could have flown. There's a
story that a U.S. plane appeared
over the California coast hours
after the Pearl Harbor attack,
smoking and sputtering.
Witnesses could see a pilot on
board, but when the plane
crashed, the wreckage was empty.

Story no 2

WORLD WAR II WAS A PERIOD OF DRAMATIC CHANGE ACROSS THE GLOBE. BUT ALONG WITH ALL THE POLITICAL MACHINATIONS AND MILITARY STRATEGIES, SOME SERIOUSLY BIZARRE STUFF HAPPENED.
A few months after Pearl Harbor, America was pretty on-edge, especially along the west coast. Everyone was scanning the sky and sea in fear of another Japanese attack. A Japanese submarine had shelled the Ellwood oilfield near Santa Barbara in February of 1942. Later that month, the mounting tension exploded into full-blown hysteria. An AWOL weather balloon triggered the initial panic. After that, flares were fired into the night sky, either to illuminate potential threats or signal danger. People saw the flares as more attackers, and a barrage of anti-aircraft fire soon filled the night.
The activity continued for several nights. In the end, the only casualties from the whole affair were three heart attack victims and three dead due to friendly fire. No Japanese aircraft were found, and the Japanese later denied having anything in the air near L.A. at the time.
That's the official story, at least. There were claims of a cover-up and a bunch of wild theories. The incident was five years prior to the Kenneth Arnold flying saucer report that sparked the U.S. UFO craze, but this is sometimes retroactively described as one of the first major UFO sightings. Newspapers at the time thought the whole thing was orchestrated to drum up support for the war effort by inducing panic. Tight-lipped military reports did little to alleviate concerns – a full public investigation wasn't performed until 40 years later.

The Call of Night

I'll try to explain a myth from Bangladesh. I read a story about this and from that time it really made me curious. Generally it came from Calcutta and southwestern part of Bangladesh. Native people call it 'Nishir Daak'. in english, we can call this 'The Call of Night'. This is a ritual where rich people when terribly ill, give a lot of money to the local priest to arrange a deadly ritual to save themselves. We know that nothing is impossible but we should always keep in mind that nothing comes for free. To save a man by this ritual, a healthy man must be sacrificed.

Things needed:
1. a green coconut
2. a black towel
3. full moon at sky
4.a priest.

Methods:
in this ritual a priest needs to fast for 7 days. he can eat nothing but dead fetuses. as collecting them to eat is hard so most of the time the priests fast for 7 days by only drinking water. When time comes he starts his journey to another village carrying a bag where there's a black towel and a green coconut. After reaching another village he waits for midnight. after midnight he cut the coconut and by holding it with his left hand, he starts calling the names of people living in the houses nearby. He calls by each name for two times. Whenever a person replies him,his soul gets stolen and the priest covers the coconut with that dark cloth so that the soul can't escape from the coconut shell. The priest keeps calling till the sun rises and tries to collect as many souls as possible. After the sun rise he comes back to that ill person and gives away the coconut water to him to drink. After drinking the water that ill person will start to get well day by day and the condition of the victims will get worse day by day. And later one day when the victims die that ill person will also be recovered fully.

* This might be the reason why people in village do not reply to a call untill they heard it for at least three times. Next time in a full moon night stay alert or you might be the next victim. Still, it's not so bad. Giving away your own life for someone else's is a noble act. 

THE SINKING OF THE EDMUND FITZGERALD

THE SINKING OF THE EDMUND FITZGERALD-


November 10, 1975 the bulk freighter Edmund Fitzgerald sank in Lake Superior with all hands. This page is dedicated to the memory of the 29 men lost that night and the families they left behind.

The Fitzgerald cleared Superior, Wisconsin, on her last trip on November 9, 1975, with a cargo of 26,116 tons of taconite pellets consigned to Detroit. Traveling down Lake Superior in company with ARTHUR M. ANDERSON of the United States Steel Corporation's Great Lakes Fleet, she encountered heavy weather and in the early evening of November 10th, suddenly foundered approximately 17 miles from the entrance to Whitefish Bay (47º North Latitude, 85º 7' West Longitude)

Captain McSorley of the "FITZ" had indicated he was having difficulty and was taking on water. She was listing to port and had two of three ballast pumps working. She had lost her radar and damage was noted to ballast tank vent pipes and he was overheard on the radio saying, "don't allow nobody (sic) on deck." McSorley said it was the worst storm he had ever seen. All 29 officers and crew, including a Great Lakes Maritime Academy cadet, went down with the ship, which lies broken in two sections in 530 feet of water.

Surveyed by the U.S. Coast Guard in 1976 using the U.S. Navy CURV III system, the wreckage consisted of an upright bow section, approximately 275 feet long and an inverted stern section, about 253 feet long, and a debris field comprised of the rest of the hull in between. Both sections lie within 170 feet of each other.

The EDMUND FITZGERALD was removed from documentation January, 1976.

The National Transportation Safety Board unanimously voted on March 23, 1978 to reject the U. S. Coast Guard's official report supporting the theory of faulty hatches. Later the N.T.S.B. revised its verdict and reached a majority vote to agree that the sinking was caused by taking on water through one or more hatch covers damaged by the impact of heavy seas over her deck.

This is contrary to the Lake Carriers Association's contention that her foundering was caused by flooding through bottom and ballast tank damage resulting from bottoming on the Six Fathom Shoal between Caribou and Michipicoten Islands.

The U.S. Coast Guard, report on August 2, 1977 cited faulty hatch covers, lack of water tight cargo hold bulkheads and damage caused from an undetermined source. 

The Enduring Mystery of Jack the Ripper

The name 'Jack the Ripper' has become the most infamous in the annals of murder. Yet, the amazing fact is that his identity remains unproven today. In the years 1888-1891 the name was regarded with terror by the residents of London's East End, and was known the world over. So shrouded in myth and mystery is this story that the facts are hard to identify at this remove in time. And it was the officers of Scotland Yard to whom the task of apprehending the fearsome killer was entrusted.
They may have failed, but they failed honourably, having made every effort and inquiry in their power to free London of the unknown terror.
Sir Neville Macnaghten
Over the years the mystery has deepened to the degree that the truth is almost totally obscured. Innumerable press stories, pamphlets, books, plays, films, and even musicals have dramatised and distorted the facts to such a degree that the fiction is publicly accepted more than the reality.
Suspects
Suffice to say genuine suspects are far fewer than the prolific authors of the genre would have us believe. In fact, to reduce them to only those with a genuine claim having been nominated by contemporary police officers, we are left with a mere four. They are:
Kosminski, a poor Polish Jewish resident in Whitechapel;
Montague John Druitt, a 31 year old barrister and school teacher who committed suicide in December 1888;
Michael Ostrog, a Russian-born multi-pseudonymous thief and confidence trickster, believed to be 55 years old in 1888, and detained in asylums on several occasions;
Dr Francis J. Tumblety, 56 Years old, an American 'quack' doctor, who was arrested in November 1888 for offences of gross indecency, and fled the country later the same month, having obtained bail at a very high price.
The first three of these suspects were nominated by Sir Melville Macnaghten, who joined the Metropolitan Police as Assistant Chief Constable, second in command of the Criminal Investigation Deptment (C.I.D.) at Scotland Yard in June 1889. They were named in a report dated 23 February 1894, although there is no evidence of contemporary police suspicion against the three at the time of the murders. Indeed, Macnaghten's report contains several odd factual errors.
Kosminski was certainly favoured by the head of the C.I.D. Dr. Robert Anderson, and the officer in charge of the case, Chief Inspector Donald Swanson. Druitt appears to have been Macnaghten's preferred candidate, whilst the fact that Ostrog was arrested and incarcerated before the report was compiled leaves the historian puzzling why he was included as a viable suspect in the first place.
The fourth suspect, Tumblety, was stated to have been "amongst the suspects" at the time of the murders and "to my mind a very likely one," by the ex-head of the Special Branch at Scotland Yard in 1888, ex-Detective Chief lspector John George Littlechild. He confided his thoughts in a letter dated 23 September, 1913, to the criminological journalist and author George R Sims.
For a list of viable suspects they have not inspired any uniform confidence in the minds of those well-versed in the case.
Indeed, arguments can be made against all of them being the culprit, and no hard evidence exists against any of them. What is obvious is the fact that the police were at no stage in a position to prove a case against anyone, and it is highly unlikely a positive case will ever be proved. If the police were in this position in 1888-1891, then what hope for the enthusiastic modern investigator?
To clear the confusion for the new student of the case we have to return to factual basics. Just who was 'Jack the Ripper,' and what were the 'Whitechapel murders'?
What has to be understood is the fact that the 'Ripper' murders and the 'Whitechapel murders' are not the same thing, although the latter does include the 'Ripper' murders. So to set the scene, the list of the eleven Whitechapel murders, (all of which at some stage have been looked upon as 'Ripper' murders), was as follows:
Throat cutting attended the murders of Nichols, Chapman, Stride, Eddowes, Kelly, McKenzie and Coles. In all except the cases of Stride and Mylett there was abdominal mutilation. In the case of Chapman the uterus was taken away by the killer.

Another Hospital

I... I don't... don't know where I am. There's so much light...

Am I dead?
My whole body is hurting... I guess that means I'm not dead yet. At least not entirely.
Everything is becoming clearer now. But that damned light is getting to me.
I think I'm in a hospital. I'm getting up, or rather trying to. My neck aches no matter how slowly I move it.
"Please stay on your back. You've been through a lot recently," a nurse says to me.
I look down to my arms and legs. They're covered in bruises, scars and cuts. Necrosis (gangrene) is even on my toes. But how did this happen?!
"What is your name?" She asks me. I tell her my name, wondering how the hell I remember it but not what happened.
My lower body is feeling like it's on fire. They had better act fast if they want to heal me.
"What happened to me?" I ask her.
"You were almost hit by a semi. In the midst of evading it, you fell over a stump and were scratched by several tree branches that were laying there. The driver was a psychopath who had just been on a killing streak in the neighborhood. He stopped the vehicle and went to finish you off personally due to the lane not being big enough to turn his truck around. After a hard fight you were able to kill him," she says to me, as though it were nothing important.
"Impossible!" I shout back, hurting my lungs in the process. "What proof do you have?!"
"Your own testimony, sir. We arrived on the scene shortly after your fight and asked you what had happened. You responded with everything I told you," she says.
"If that's so, then why do I have gangrene?!" The stench from my battered body is unbearable, nauseating me already. This day just keeps getting worse every minute.
"Calm down, sir. You were laying in the snow afterwards. It was winter when it happened, and your feet began to suffer from necrosis," she explains. "Now I need you to lie still. We're going to preform surgery on you."
I look around my room. The door is shut tightly and only the lights above keep the room from descending into blackness. It's growing hard to breathe every second I'm not operated on.
The nurse is taking out some kind of device to perform surgery on me. She's moving towards my legs.
"Wait! You need anesthetics, right? Get some for me now, I'll be in great pain if you don't! Are you mad?!"
She giggles at that, saying-
"We're in Hell, of course it's going to be painful!"

PREY

My story takes place in a town you’ve probably never heard of in south-eastern rural Kentucky. It’s a small town with its people sparsely peppering the mountainsides to and fro. It’s the type of town where it isn’t exactly unusual to find neighbors bartering for goods with livestock, living off what the land provides, and making do with what they’ve got. It is here that my father was raised. It is here that my father raised his family.
My father was a proud man; short, barely 5’7”, but stout. He was many things – a mountaineer, carpenter, a survivor, a hunter…but mostly, he was proud. He instilled in me all the virtues that I believe in today. He’s the type of man that would give you the last dollar to his name. The type that would go hungry to make sure his children were fed, and there were times that he did. I suppose I should clarify that I grew up in poverty. No doubt there were those that were worse off than me, but times were hard nonetheless. My father worked intermittently, mostly in construction. There were few homes within the community that my father did not at least help with. He built our house from the ground up, dug out the basement, and leveled the land with little more than a shovel, wheel barrel, and the helping hands of my uncle and two older brothers. Our house sat on a hillside, in a leveled alcove; the yard stretched on for what seemed like forever, ending at a fresh mountain brook where the woodland lied beyond.
He spent a lot of time in those woods – hiking trails, digging ginseng, hunting, and otherwise passing time. The mountains provided our family with many necessities. Our water was pumped from a mine near the mountain’s peak. Our food consisted mainly of game and livestock. My mother is a wonderful cook. She had a fondness for chicken – which we raised. My father, on the other hand, preferred game. No stranger to the culinary arts, my father was adept at preparing a variety of dishes. All of which he tracked and killed himself. Long before the sun would rise, my father would grab his light and head out. He would follow the mountain stream before turning off onto one of the many mine roads that littered the terrain. One such road ran by an old graveyard long since forgotten by the rest of the world. Some headstones there dated back to the onset of the 19th century.
I recall one night my father decided to go spotting. For those of you unfamiliar, spotting is a common practice amongst Appalachian hunters (perhaps amongst hunters in general, but I do not hunt so I am not sure). The hunter will set out before sunrise, taking a light and little else. The hunter will then proceed to shine the light, much like a spotlight, in hopes of catching a glimpse of an animal’s eyes. You see, the eyes of an animal are luminous; and in complete darkness when the light passes over them they will shine. This is a method of establishing good hunting venues. On this particular night, my father broke tradition and decided to take his shotgun with him on his spotting expedition. This decision, I would later learn, saved his life.
It was a warm spring night. I was always a night owl, so when my father stirred, I was still awake and playing my Super Nintendo. It was not a school night, so I was greeted with his ever present smile. “Hey big man,” he chimed. “You’re up late.”
“I want to beat Mario,” I told him, my eyes leaving the screen long enough to see him tying his boots. He didn’t reply, he just smiled and rubbed my head as he passed me on his way to the gun cabinet. From it, he removed his customary 12 gauge shotgun, some rounds, and a miner’s light. The light, I recall, strapped to his forehead and attached to a rather large battery that he hung at his waist. He then made his way to the couch and sat next to me. He casually lifted the TV remote and waited. When I finished the level he smiled.
“Pause it. I need to check the forecast,” he told me. I obliged and he changed the channel. He watched as the forecaster rambled on about the weather and seemed content. “Not giving rain for today. That’s good.” He turned to me and smiled again. “Okay. You can go back to your game. I’m going out. I’ll be back in a while, tell your mother I’ll bring home supper. Tonight, we’re going to have rabbit.” He kissed my forehead and stood. I smiled at him as he rounded the hallway corner to our front door. I listened to the door shut and to the clunk of his boots as he made his way off the porch, down the steps and through the yard. His steps faded in the distance. From this point on, I cannot vouch for the validity of my tale, but I can tale you that the man who returned was not the man that left. Make no mistake, my father did return; but he was a changed man. He never spoke much of that night until after I had started college. This is his story.
Like most other nights, he headed up the mountain via a trail that ran alongside the brook. The air was still and warm and the moon and stars shone bright. There were no clouds, and the forecast was clear. The sound of cicadas and crickets filled the air. He made his way along the trail intermittently shining his light on either side of the stream. He walked along the stream until he reached a fork in the path. To his left was his customary turn off, further up that trail was an old slate dump. Above it was a derelict coal shoot. He shined his light along that trail and contemplated. He had been talking with his hunting buddies and they had mentioned a sweet spot near the graveyard. A warren of rabbits had apparently taken residence near the abandoned cemetery, and they had all had good fortune when hunting there. My father thought on it for a moment before turning to the right. The right trail lead on up the mountain to the mine where we drew our water. It passed by the cemetery where the rabbits were said to reside. He continued to follow the stream until making his way to the cemetery.
Upon his arrival, he skimmed his light back and forth across the plots. If there was a warren here, the rabbits were definitely not being very active tonight. He trudged amongst the plots until finally deciding to move on. He walked back to the trail and stopped. He could go back along the stream trail and to the slate dump – at the very least, he thought, he could cover grounds he was used to hunting. Instead, he decided to follow the trail further. He had been walking for a little more than fifteen minutes when he noticed a strange phenomenon. The light from the moon and stars was completely gone. Clouds covered the sky and in the distance somewhere there was flash of lightning. He counted the seconds to the thunder. The sky roared a moment then fell silent. There was no rain. He silently observed his surroundings, shining his light on either side of the trail. He paused for a moment longer, and then trudged on. As he walked he noticed something else. Very faint, and very rhythmically his footsteps were echoing. This was unusual. If you’ve ever been in a wooded mountain, one thing you’ll notice is that the mountains are excellent listeners and seldom repeat what they’re told. It was then the silence consumed him. The cicadas, the crickets, the owls – they were all hushed. My father stopped and shined his light around him. He saw nothing and after a moment he continued along the trail.
The echo was silent for a moment then started up again. With every crunch of my father’s feet, he could hear a crunch simultaneously hit the trail behind him. Someone, or something, was following him. Deliberately and furtively stalking him. He stopped again, and so did his echo. He shined the light around him again, in all directions. Down the trail, into the trees, and even into the air. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing there. He carefully observed his surroundings. It was then he noticed another trail, not three feet from him on the other side of the brush. Silently, he began devising a plan. He decided that he would begin walking again, and when the echo recommenced he’d take another step…but he’d stop. If it was his mind playing tricks then the echo would stop too. He turned up the trail and continued along his way. Within moments the echo re-emerged. He waited until he was confident it the time was right, and he stepped…and stopped mid step. His foot was barely an inch from the ground.
*CRUNCH*
The sound resonated through his being and sent shivers down his spine. He spun around and shined the light again only to be greeted by darkness. He turned back up the trail and quickened his pace. This time the strides did not mimic his own. They were faster and louder. It dawned on my father at this point that he had pissed it off, whatever it was. He loaded his shotgun as another plan developed in his mind. He decided to step through the brush to the trail on the other side. There he would wait for It to pass him, and he would turn the tides. Without hesitation he cut off his light and stepped across the brush and waited in darkness. The sound of Its strides continued up the trail before stopping what sounded like mere feet away. Then It crossed through the brush, coming to a halt beside him. His stomach sank and he fumbled for his light. He could feel eyes burning into his skin, boring holes into his brain. The light came on with a sudden flash…nothing. There was absolutely nothing there. He shined the light all around him. There was no sign of anything passing through the brush, no sign of anything walking along the trail. My father, an expert hunter, could find no trace of the thing that was stalking him. He shined his light further up the trail and saw something. A building…the old coal shoot that was just above the slate dump. He bolted for it. He could hear Its strides coming up fast behind him. He turned into the coal shoot and dove in. The shoot collapsed around him, sending him pouring down onto slate and rock. He quickly made his way to his feet and shined his light towards the shoot, shotgun in firing position. He could hear It moving fast up the trail. He heard It hit the coal shoot. The shoot thundered and trembled under Its weight, but my father couldn’t see anything. He blindly fired, pumped, and fired again and again. The boom of his shotgun echoed throughout the valley…the sound matched by a roar that made the hair on his neck stand. The shoot was silent for a moment. Then he heard Its strides bolt in the opposite direction. It made its way up the mountain towards the mine. He listened for a long time. Silence.
He got home around noon. He was beaten up pretty badly from his fall. He never said a word. My mother attempted to console him, and he silently looked at her. His eyes filled with dread and his ever present smile gone. Not long after that he and my mom separated. The court ordered that the house be turned over to me upon my 21st birthday. I returned home to find him sitting on the porch, shotgun beside him. He had long since erected a security fence around the property. He told me his tale and he told me that he continued to hear It. When he walked to his mother’s or when he trimmed the hedges and mowed the lawn. He could hear It following him. Ever presently, It stalked him. Hunted him.
After my father passed, I left the house empty. It didn’t feel right taking it when he had built it from the ground up. But then I met the woman who would become my wife. We married after I graduated college, and now she’s pregnant with my son. I brought my family back here, to raise them where I was raised.
But I write this now because I am afraid. Each night I do a quick sweep of the property. I check the house and then I check the yard…and each night I can hear my footsteps echoing beyond the fence.

My soul got stolen

As usually I would go home around 11:00 pm after i finish my job at a local caffe.
But since i started working at that caffe I would always hear some noise like a child laughing but it was always so cold....
Unfortunately tonight i had to stay late at night...there are not much costumers this late and i decide to eat smthing
i go to the kitchen to eat smth n go again to the counter
as i was eating my cup cake i see a little girl sitting in one of the chairs...
'what the??,,,when did she enter? i dint hear the bell chiming even though i was in the kitchen'. ''um hi what can i get u?'', i asked with a little smile and in a nervous voice. though she culdnt see me ,her back was facing me n i could only see her black long hair..
''i want u''she said in a whispering voice..
''what ?''
''will u come to play with me? im always lonly in my mirror''
Ok that kid is freaking me out.
''where r ur parents? u should not be here at this hour'' i was trying to avoid her question because im having this feeling, that kid is not normal...
''We could play like princesses'' As she Said,she started to rise from the chair.
''Look little girl id play with u but tomorrow.what do u say? i have to close the caffe now n u should go home too. come tomorrow at the morning if u want''
''But i cant. Tonight is my last chance out of the mirror. they will never let me out again''Next thing i saw was her skeleton like face n white teeth laughing at me..after that i dont remember anything else..,,When i wake up im laying in a cold n wet floor. as i inspect the wetness ''Fuck is this blood?!''Now im scared.where did that come from? thank God,it was not from me....
''Oh good ur awake."
i turn my head n see the kid from the caffe n the most horribly scene is, that kid was sitting in a pool of blood surrounded with dead bodies,
''w-w-what's happening??''i said in a shaky voice..,
''oh they? well none of them wanted to play with me so i killed them n brought in my home''
''Will u kill me too?''shit i didnt plan my death like this.
''No, as long you are playing with me. Will you play with me?"
I don't have any choice. I have to play with her.
"what shall we play?"
"umm... At first we should get dressed as princess'. Then we will start playing."
Where am I? Who is this bitch? Is it a dream? We get dressed as quickly as possible. Like a princess I guess. Oh God! Help me.
" now that we are ready. Let's start playing. Go stand beside that mirror. And give the lipstick you used."
"I don't have any idea what she's talking about. But I have to follow her rules." I give her the lipstick and walk towards the mirror. Why shes laughing at me like that? Well I can't really tell if she's laughing or not. She has no skin over her Damn skull. I stand beside the mirror. And saw her using that lipstick on her face. Where is she painting anyway? She is using a small hand mirror. What kind of game is this?
"We look like princesses. now that you've played with me. How does this feel?"
I tried to smile and say, "f...fine!"
"so you enjoyed the game?"
"yes, I enjoyed this so much. Now please let me go."
"now that you've enjoyed playing with me, you have to give me somthing."
" what are you talking about? What do you want from me?"
"your inner beauty of course. I mean your precious little soul"
I cried," no, you can't take it. I didnt wanna play with you. U forced me"
"well, you did like the game, didnt you?" she asked me in grave voice.
"N..no...I mean yes. Please let me go. I beg you"
"so, you have to give me your soul."
I feel the anger growing into me . I cried at her, " curse you! You won't be able to have my soul. Kill me if you want. At least, I'll be in heaven someday."
She started laughing like a lunatic. After the laugh, she told with a mocking voice, "foolish girl! You've already given your soul to me. Look at the mirror"
I didnt want to but I forced myself look at the mirror. A loud scream comes out of my mouth. Who is that? There is a skeleton looking at me with its teeth out. It looks horrible. I don't know what's happening to me.
She is standing near me. I saw her reflection in the mirror. It was me. No! She stole it. She has my soul.
"without your soul you will be a rotten piece of flesh in no time. Well, its been a great meal. Enough to hold my hunger for a whole year."

Everything looks fuzzy. Is it the death itself switching over the place of my soul? I can only hear some last words from her.
"the game was interesting. Surprisingly you've won. Ive lost to you.

BUT THE GAME IS OVER.The game is finished. The game of your soul has come to an end. GOODBYE!!!
Next year,I'll come for your little sister."
"OH God! MY LOVELY SISTER. I COULDN'T SAVE MY LITTLE SISTER EVEN AFTER GIVING MY VERY SOUL TO HER. Why????"

Security Camera

The Security Camera is a scary short story about two boys who encounter a terrifying ghost in a convenience store at night.


There were two teenage boys who had been best friends since they started school together. They both managed to get part-time jobs working the night shift at a local 24-hour convenience store. They started at midnight and finished at seven in the morning. It’s known as the graveyard shift.

Because the boys were working overnight, it soon became very boring. There were never very many customers and they mostly spent their time sitting behind the checkout counter, talking, watching movies or playing games on their iPads.

One night, they were sitting at the checkout counter as usual, eating sweets and chatting about nothing in particular. The monitor for the security cameras was behind the counter, but nothing ever happened, so they only checked it occasionally. The monitor’s screen was split into four, displaying footage from security cameras at the checkout counter, the food aisles, the magazine rack and the parking lot outside.

When one of the boys happened to glance at the monitor, he noticed that there was a woman standing in front of the magazine rack, with her back to the camera. She had long, flowing, black hair that reached down to her waist.

“That’s weird,” he said to himself. “I didn’t hear the door chime go off when she came in.”

He didn’t think too much about it and went back to watching his movie. But something was strange. Half an hour passed and when he glanced at the monitor again, the woman was still there. She didn’t show any signs of moving. He wondered if she was reading a magazine, but when he looked closely at the monitor, he saw that the woman’s hands were empty. She was just standing there, staring at the magazine rack.

“Hey,” he whispered to the other boy. “Do you think she’s trying to steal something?”

His friend also had the same thought and nodded in agreement. The woman’s behavior seemed somewhat strange so the teenagers came out from behind the counter to investigate.

One boy went down the left aisle and the other went down the right, but when they peeked around the shelves, they were surprised to see nobody there.

“Where did she go?” asked the first boy. “She would have had to pass by one of us.”

Just then, they heard the sound of the toilet flushing.

“What?” said the second boy. “How did she get to the bathroom?”

The boys went back to the checkout, but when they looked at the monitor, a chill went down their spines. The woman was standing at the magazine rack in exactly the same position as before.

“That was fast,” said the first boy, puzzled.

“Too fast,” said his friend.

Thinking there must be something wrong with the security camera, the boys went back to the magazine rack. Just as before, they found nobody there. Cold sweat was running down their backs. They both looked at eachother wide-eyed and frightened. Then, without a word, the boys returned to the counter.

This time, when they bent down and peered into the monitor, the security camera showed that there was nobody at the magazine rack.

“She’s gone,” said the first boy. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to face his friend.

“Wait. Don’t move,” hissed the second boy urgently.

Both of them froze, staring into the monitor.

“What is it?” whispered the first boy.

The second boy’s voice was shaking. “Don’t look behind you,” he hissed.

The first boy was mystified. Reflected on the screen of the monitor, he could see his own face and his friend’s face. Suddenly, he noticed it. Right between their faces was the reflection of a third face. A deathly pale face. A woman’s face.

The boys were too scared to scream. They just stood there, staring at the monitor, trembling. A few minutes passed and the ghostly face faded away.

“I think she’s gone,” said the second boy, breathing a sigh of relief. Nervously, he looked over his shoulder and found no one there.

The first boy wiped the sweat from his brow. His heart was beating fast.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Both boys stared at the monitor again. The woman was standing there at the magazine rack. Slowly, she turned around to face the camera and grined. Her mouth split open from ear to ear. She held up a bloody knife and ran it across her throat in a threatening gesture.

The two boys didn’t pause for a second. They immediately ran as fast as they could. Crashing through the front door, they spilled out into the street and didn’t look back. They only stopped running when they arrived home.

The next day, the two boys called the convenience store and quit their part-time jobs.

Today it’s no longer a 24-hour convenience store. It closes at midnight and reopens at seven in the morning.

The Story behind 'Deja Vu'

Do you know about the term, deja vu and time loop?
The term déjà vu is French and means, literally, "already seen." Those who have experienced the feeling describe it as an overwhelming sense of familiarity with something that shouldn't be familiar at all. for example, you are traveling to England for the first time. You are touring a cathedral, and suddenly it seems as if you have been in that very spot before. Or maybe you are having dinner with a group of friends, discussing some current political topic, and you have the feeling that you've already experienced this very thing -- same friends, same dinner, same topic.

Now, time loop,
A time loop or temporal loop is a common plot device in which time runs normally for a set period but then skips back like a broken record. When the time loop "resets", the memories of most characters are reset. (From Encyclopedia)

Well, I'm not here to define things. Ever thought about why we are afraid of death? Have you ever experienced it for yourself? You can't tell me, can you? I know. You dont remember.

But I know, you experience Deja Vu often in your normal life.you start to feel things like it happened before also. Have you ever wanted to seek the answer for yourself?

Why sometime you assume and things get real? It's like you know, what's gonna happen next. Sometimes before death people get the feeling that they are gonna be dead soon. When they tell us about that, we call them crazy.but they are not. They are just trying to break the eternal puzzle of their life, of this universe. They experience the same thing, same life over and over. It's called the Alpha time loop. Every one of us experience that. We are trapped in this big time loop. As I said, our whole life is one Alpha time loop. We live and die again and again in this time loop. Think of having the pain of dying again and again. Your brain always makes you believe that everything is normal and peaceful. Of course letting us know about this would be terrible for us to handle. It's good for us that most of us have a natural death. But what about those who experience deaths which are not normal, like getting stabbed in stomach again and again? Death by a horrible road accident again and again? Or being suffocated in deep dark water again and again?
Every Alpha time loop is also contained of small time loops. In duration 2 seconds to 5 or 6 minutes. We don't know the exact duration or the count of loops of a small time loop. There's always a way to break a time loop. When you break it,you get out of one. And enters into a different one.

We experience Deja Vu because we've already experienced it for real. because Sometimes, all the memories don't get deleted as we start a new time loop.

Breaking a small time loop is very simple but tricky, because you don't know, doing what will make you a escape route. May be kicking a bottle lying on the street would help or may be not smashing that ant with your foot would have helped. It depends. We can't really tell what might help you escape a time loop. Small time loops go on like this Until you are at the end of your life and that is one alpha time loop. I believe there's a way of breaking this alpha time loop too. May be I'll find at the very moment of dying. But will I remember to do that simple thing what will help me break out of this eternal puzzle? I don't know. People don't usually remember what happened in their last alpha time loop. That's what makes it so tricky.
I feel sad for me, for you, for us. We can't do anything. :(
You know,May be you are reading this post for the 2nd time or may be for the 1000th time or may be for the...... But you can't do anything about it.

Cannabalism In Russia.!!

It was horrific. The siege of Leningrad (the modern-day St. Petersburg) lasted almost two and one-half years and cost the lives of an estimated 1,000,000 city residents. It began on September 8, 1941 when German troops completed their encirclement of the city. As his blitzkrieg rushed towards Moscow, Hitler made the strategic decision to bypass Leningrad and strangle the city into submission rather than commit valuable resources to attacking it directly. Hunger and cold became the city's greatest enemies. By the end of September, the city's oil and coal supplies were exhausted. This meant that the city was without any central heating. As the brutal Russian winter approached, water pipes froze and broke, denying the residents drinking water. Food supplies were cut. By November, individual rations were lowered to 1/3 of the daily amount needed by an adult. The city's population of dogs, cats, horses, rats and crows disappeared as they became the main course on many dinner tables. Reports of cannibalism began to appear.

Thousands died - an estimated 11,000 in November increasing to 53,000 in December. The frozen earth meant their bodies could not be buried. Corpses accumulated in the city's streets, parks and other open areas. To compound the misery, the Germans incessantly bombarded the city with air and artillery attacks. The Russian winter had one positive effect. It froze Lake Ladoga to the city's east and created a life-line over which caravans of trucks hauled a meager amount of food and supplies. It also provided an evacuation route for thousands of the city's weak and elderly. The loss of population through death and evacuation decreased the strain on the remaining inhabitants. Food rations were increased and the city's situation stabilized. By January 1944, the Red Army had pushed the German army beyond Leningrad allowing the city to celebrate the end of its siege. "Some people went quite insane with hunger." Alexander Werth was a correspondent for the London Sunday Times and the BBC who accompanied the Soviet troops as they pushed the Germans from their soil. He interviewed a number of Leningrad residents shortly after the siege was lifted: Anna Andreievna - manager Astoria Hotel: "The Astoria looks like a hotel now, but you should have seen it during the famine! It was turned into a hospital - just hell. They used to bring here all sorts of people, mostly intellectuals, who were dying of hunger. Gave them vitamin tablets, tried to pep them up a bit. But a lot of them were too far gone, and died almost the moment they got here. I know what it is to be hungry. I was so weak I could, hardly walk. Had to use a walking stick to support me. My home is only mile away, in the Sadovaya...I'd have to stop and sit down every hundred yards...Took me sometimes over an hour to get home... You don't know what it was like. You just stepped over corpses in the street and on the stairs. You simply stopped taking any. It was no use worrying. Terrible things used to happen.

Some people went quite insane with hunger. And the practice of hiding the dead somewhere in the house and using their ration cards was very common indeed. There were so many people dying all over the place authorities couldn't keep track of all the deaths... You should have seen me in February 1942. Oh, Lord, I looked funny! My weight dropped from seventy kilos to forty kilos in four months! Now I'm back to sixty-two - feeling quite plump..." Members of the staff of the Architects Institute: "We went on with this blueprint work right through the winter 1941-2. . . It was a blessing for us architects. The best medicine that could have been given us during the famine. The moral effect is when a hungry man knows he's got a useful job of work to do. . But there's no doubt about it: a worker stands up better to hardships than an intellectual. A lot of our people stopped shaving - the first sign man going to pieces. . . Most of these people pulled themselves together when they were given work. But on the whole men collapsed more easily than women, and at first the death-rate was highest among men. However, those who survived the worst period of the famine finally survived. The women felt the after-effects more seriously than the men. Many died in the spring, when the worst was already over. The famine had peculiar physical effects on people. Women were so run down that they stopped menstruating... A starving man holds his daily ration in his hand. So many people died we had to bury them without coffins. People had their feelings blunted and never seemed to weep at the burials...It was all done in complete silence, without any display of emotion. When things began to improve the first signs were that women began to put rouge and lipstick on pale, skinny faces. Yes, we lived through hell right enough; but you should have been here the day the blockade was broken - people in the street wept for joy, and strangers fell round each others' necks. Now life is almost normal.

There is this shelling, of course, and people get killed, but life has become valuable again." Major Lozak a staff officer in the Soviet Army: "In those days there was something in a man's face which told you that he would die within the next twenty-four hours...I have lived in Leningrad all my life, and I also have my parents here. They are old people, and during those famine months I had to give them half my officer's ration, or they would certainly have died. As a staff officer I was naturally, and quite rightly, getting considerably less than the people at the front: 250 grams a day instead of 350. I shall always remember how I'd walk every day from my house near the Tauris Garden to my work in the centre of the city, a matter of two or three kilometres. I'd walk for a-while, and then sit down for a rest. Many a time I saw a man suddenly collapse on the snow. There was nothing I could do. One just walked on. And, on the way back, I would see a vague human form covered with snow on the spot where, in the morning, I had seen a man fall down. One didn't worry; what was the good? People didn't wash for weeks; there were no bath houses and no fuel. But at least people were urged to shave. And during that winter I don't think I ever saw a person smile. It was frightful. And yet there was a kind of inner discipline that made people carry on. A new code of manners was evolved by the hungry people. They carefully avoided talking about food. I remember spending a very hungry evening with an old boy from the Radio Committee. He nearly drove me crazy - he would talk all evening about Kant and Hegel. Yet we never lost heart. The Battle of Moscow gave us complete confidence that it would be all right in the end. But what a change all the same when February came and the Ice Road began to function properly!"

A Pile of Photographs

A young girl walking home from school found a small pile of Polaroid photos lying in the gutter. There were twenty in all, neatly wrapped in a rubber band. She picked them up, and as she walked, she started to browse. The first photo was that of a ghostly white man on a black background, standing just far enough away from the camera that she couldn’t make out his features. The girl slid the photo to the back of the stack and looked at the next one. The photo was of the same man now standing a bit closer. The girl flipped through the next several photos quickly.

With each one the man in the picture came a bit closer and his features were a bit clearer. Turning the last corner to her house, the girl noticed that the man in the photos seems to be looking at her even when she moved the stack from side to side. It frightened her, but she kept flipping them over, one by one. By the nineteenth picture, the man was so close his face completely filled the frame. His expression was the most horrifying the girl had ever seen. Walking up the driveway, she turned to the last photo. This time, instead of an image, there were two words: "Close enough."
Hearing a scream outside their house, the girl’s brother rushed to the door and opened it. All he saw was a pile of photographs lying on the doorstep. The top one looked like an extremely pale version of his sister, but she was standing too far back for him to be sure.

Blue Baby

Here is a scary game to play for the bravest of you guys....
Blue Baby
Go into a bathroom with the lights off and the door closed. Pretend to rock a baby. Chant the phrase “Blue Baby” thirteen times. A baby will appear and scratch you. DROP IT AND RUN! If you don’t, a woman will to appear and scream as loud as glass breaking, "GIVE ME BACK MY BABY!!!" If you have her baby, she will kill you

In another version,You have to go into the bathroom and blow on the mirror, then write Blue Baby in the steam.
Chant Blue Baby, Baby Blue thirteen times in the pitch black, holding your arms out while you do it.
You should feel a dead weight in your arms, like a baby has fallen into them.
Do NOT drop the baby on the floor. If you drop it once, it’ll cut you. Drop it twice, it’ll cut you again. Drop it three times, and its Mother will appear in the mirror screaming “GIVE ME BACK MY BABY!”
According to the Legend, you have to drop the invisible weight into the toilet and flush it. You cannot drop it on the floor, it must be in the toilet.

The Little Girl in the Red Cape

A little girl’s parents went out for a business dinner so they hired a babysitter to watch her.
“Can I have some ice cream?”the little girl, Holly asked after supper. “Sure” the babysitter said. “Where’s the freezer?”
“In the basement, so are the nuts, cherries and candy and Stuff.” When she went down to get the ice cream, she looked out window to see a little girl standing outside. This didn’t strike her as too suspicious and she simply brushed it off.

After she had given Holly her ice cream, Holly asked, “Can I have some hot fudge on this, please?” “Course,” was the quick reply.
After Beatrice went back down into the basement to retrieve the hot fudge, she looked back out the window to see the same little girl, only wearing a red cape. She absentmindedly wondered if the girl was playing dress-up as she trudged back upstairs.
“Got it,” she deadpanned after setting the hot fudge in the microwave and putting the thick chocolate goop on the ice cream. “Can I please have some nuts on this please…?” “Really?” “Puh-lease?” “Fine…” she sighed already heading back down the stairs. As she got the nuts out of a small cabinet in the wall she looked back out the window to see the same little girl in the red cape, holding a knife.
As she ran upstairs she decided she was calling the police. “Ooh Thank you!” Holly squealed happily from her perch on her pink Disney Princess booster seat. “Uh-I-I yeah. Hey, Holly, I need you to-“ “Oh no! Can I have a cherry on top, please?”
Not wanting to alarm Holly, she decided that she would go get the cherries, then call the police after locking herself and Holly in the bathroom. There’s no way the little girl could get inside if the windows and doors were all locked.
After slowly descending down the stairs, she opened the freezer with shaky arms. Daring to peek out of the window, she closed her eyes before staring out it. The same little girl, in the same red cape, holding the same knife was there. Only the knife now had blood on it.
Running up the stairs, scared of what might await, she checked on Holly. Holly was dead, a small pool of blood forming on the floor under her. She ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind her before dialing 911.
When the police arrived, the tearful mother and father were with them. The mother approached Beatrice, sobbing uncontrollably. “What happened?”
“Oh God- I’m sorry oh God! I-I saw this little girl with this red cape and a knife outside your basement window!”
The mother said, “We-we don’t have any basement windows, only mirrors…”

DON’T LOOK BEHIND YOU

In the town where I lived, there was an abandoned apartment with two-floors. It had broken windows and dirty, crumbling walls, so no locals would ever go near it.
One day, me and my friend decided to explore the place. It was still early in the afternoon and there was a lot of light, so we ventured to the second floor.
And there on one of the doors we found some graffiti.
We went closer to have a look and found some words that said: “I am in the room ahead.”
We decided to go through the door.
We walked until we reached a fork and on the wall it said: “I am on the left.”
We were getting slightly scared but decided to turn left.
Then we came to the place where there were rooms on both sides of us.
And on the wall it said, “My head is on the left and my body is on the right.”
My friend, as soon as he saw it, lost nerve and ran away. But I decided to stay and, mustering all my courage, walked through the door on the right. I walked to the farthest wall in the room and on the wall it said: “My body is underneath.” I looked down and on the floor it said: “My head is coming here from the room on the left. Don’t look behind you.” it was coming towards me. I couldn't even move a single inch. It felt like years. There was nothing but i know, it was coming. Then I felt it's breath on my neck. It wasn't like any other. Cold like an icy wind down to my spine. Then it spoke to me, 'thank you to set me free. I'll now leave this but sorry. You have to stay here. None can leave this place until those boxes are filled with a head and a torso.'
after that i can remember nothing. Reader, Look behind you and read those words....

Read the Sign

Read the Sign is a spooky story about a woman and her daughter who see something creepy on TV one night.
One night, an 8-year old girl was sitting at home, watching television with her mother. Suddenly, the screen began flickering and the image of a ghostly woman in red inexplicably appeared on the TV. She was holding a small sign that was covered with words scrawled in red ink.
It read: “This is a special announcement. Parents, please send your children to bed immediately”.
The mother was worried and told her daughter to go to bed. The young girl protested, but the mother remained firm. She grabbed her daughter by the arm and led her into the hallway.The girl meekly walked up the stairs to her bedroom and the mother returned to the living room. When she looked at the TV again, the woman on the screen was holding a new message.
It read: “Please wait”.
The mother sat patiently on the sofa, waiting for the special announcement. After five minutes passed and nothing happened, she began to get bored.
Just then, the woman on the screen displayed a new message.The writing was tiny and very difficult to read. The mother inched closer to the TV, trying to make out the words.
The sign read: “Thank you. Your children are now dead”.
The mother was horrified. She ran upstairs and burst into her daughter’s bedroom. She found the young girl lying in bed with the covers pulled up to her neck and breathed a sigh of relief.
As she watched her daughter sleeping, the mother noticed that something was wrong. The blankets on the bed were not moving. Her daughter wasn’t breathing. Slowly, she walked over to the girl’s bedside and pulled the covers. She recoiled in horror and began screaming.
On the pillow, lay her daughter’s severed head. Her body was nowhere to be found.
More than 500 children died that night. The police couldn’t trace the strange television broadcast and the woman holding the sign was never identified.

The Kuntilanak

The Kuntilanak is a female ghost from Indonesian folklore. She is usually described as a woman with pale skin and long black haircovering her face, dressed in a long white gown. They say that instead of eyes, she had vacant black holes in her face. The Kuntilanak also has a hole in the back of her neck.
The Kuntilanak is the ghost of a pregnant woman who died before her child was born. According to the legend, she stalks women, especially pregnant women, and tries to steal their babies. She makes sounds like a baby crying. If the crying is near, it means she is far away. If the crying is far away, it means she is near. SHe usually lurks in tall trees, old buildings and by the edge of a river or lake. Some Indonesian people believe that the sight of a Kuntilanak can drive you insane.
In the ghost photo above, a group of Indonesian teenagers were having a party in their backyard. Supposedly, they tooka photo and were horrified to discover the ghostly figure of a Kuntilanak lurking in the background.
According to one story, a young Indonesian woman was returningto her college campus late at night. It was dark and there were only a few cars on the street. She decided to get a taxiand flagged down a mini-bus. On a darkened street, the mini-bus suddenly stopped. The girl lookedout the window, thinking that another passenger must be getting on. She looked in the front seat and saw that the driver was gone. He had run away. Outside the door of the mini-bus, stood a woman in a white dress with an extremely pale face and long black hair. The woman was staring directly at her. She was trapped inside the mini-bus and could not escape. The next morning, people found her still inside the mini-bus, cowering on the floor with a terrified look on her face.She was sent to psychiatric ward and never recovered from the experience.
They say that the Kuntilanak is afraid of sharp objects and will not attack a woman if she is carrying either a nail, a knife or a scissors in her handbag. She can be killed by driving a nail into the hole in the back of her neck

The Ugly Boy

The Ugly Boy is a creepy story about a beautiful and handsome married couple who give birth toa child who is extremely ugly and disturbing to look at.
There was a very beautiful young woman who had always dreamed of being a model. After finishing college, she found work in the fashion industry, modeling clothes for style magazines. As her career progressed, she went on many photo shoots in avariety of exotic countries.
On one of these photo shoots, she was paired with a very handsome male model. They were both very attracted to each other and, one night, they kissed. Soon, the beautiful and handsome pair began dating andthey gradually fell in love.
After a few years, they decided to get married. At the wedding, everyone complimented them, telling them that they made a gorgeous couple. Some of the guests said that they were so good-looking that their children would certainly be beautiful. Before long, the wife was pregnant and the happy couple looked forward to starting a family and spending a wonderful life together.
However, when the baby was born, the couple were horrified. It was the ugliest baby anyone had ever seen. The doctors and nurses were speechless. They couldn’t even bear to look at the baby. The mother and father had to stop themeselves from vomiting whenever they caught sight of the disturbing face of their infant son.
As the years passed, the baby boy grew older and his face grew more and more ugly. His eyes bugged out, his nose was deformed and the skin around his mouth was rotting. By the time he was 3 years old, he was hideous and his parents kept the little boy hidden in his bedroom. They never allowed himout of the house and refused tolet their relatives, friends and neighbors ever set eyes on him. The good-looking couple were ashamed that they had given birth to a child with such a repulsive and monstrous face.
The strain of having such an ugly child took its toll on their marriage. The couple spent most of their time fighting and arguing. Trapped in the house every day with her hideous son, the wife began to lose her mind. Whenever she looked out the window, she would see other children playing gleefully together and was filled with resentment. Her deranged mind began to develop murderous intentions.
One day, the father decided that spending so much time hidden indoors was not healthy for his wife and son. He suggested that they should go for a picnic at a nearby lake. That day, they drove out to thelake and selected a nice spot, bythe edge of a cliff, for their picnic.
Their ugly son said he needed togo to the toilet. The mother toldhim to pee over the side of the cliff. When the boy was close to the edge, he pulled down his zipper. Suddenly, his mother reached out and pushed him off the cliff.
The father was horrified, but then a strange look passed between the married couple. He seemed to understand what shehad done. Without a word, the parents packed up their picnic basket and blanket and drove home. They had finally rid themselves of the ugly boy. When their neighbors asked them about their son, they simply said that he had died after a long illness.
A year later, the wife became pregnant again. Initially, the couple were worried that they would be cursed with another ugly son. However, their fears proved unfounded, because when the baby was born they were delighted to discover that it was a beautiful baby girl. The child looked just like her parents.Unlike their first child, the parents loved and nurtured their little girl. They were so proud of her that they showed her off to their friends and neighbors. The family spent manyhappy years together.
Time passed and the little girl was almost four years old, she told her parents that she wanted to go on a boat ride forher birthday. On the day that she turned four, the parents drove out to the nearby lake with their beloved daughter. Theday was very sunny and they rented a boat and sailed out across the placid waters.
They were in the middle of the lake when the girl said, “Mommy,I need to pee.”
The mother helped the little girl to take off her panties. After checking that nobody was looking, she lifted her daughter up and held her over the edge of the boat so that she could pee.
The little girl looked back at her father and said, “Don’t let Mommy drop me this time.”