Off Topic: The Flood
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  • Subject: Short, Scary Stories!
Subject: Short, Scary Stories!
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Posted by: xXGODLYSKILLSXx
couldnt agree more achronos
<--------- Bungie fanboy

Rawr purple Sausage nipples attack once again!!!

  • 06.10.2008 1:54 PM PDT
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Sweet stories! Put more on here.

  • 06.11.2008 12:43 PM PDT
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Runescape was created.

  • 06.11.2008 12:46 PM PDT

O o
/¯____________________________ ___________
| IMMA FIRIN MY LAZAH BLAAA!!
\_¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ ;¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯& #175;
SHOOP DE WHOOOOP!!!

The shortest short story.
"The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door..."

  • 06.11.2008 1:04 PM PDT
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Man those are scary [Thread Saved]

  • 06.11.2008 3:53 PM PDT

"Run coward, I am Sinistar. I hunger coward!"

-Sinistar

It had been a close call. Lyle had used more effort than he thought he had in him to reach the train and as the doors closed behind him he had been racked with pain, his lungs burned and his temple throbbed.

Lyle had been in his seat now for half an hour and finally, with a whisky down him and a steaming coffee in front of him, he had begun to relax, occasionally nodding his head as he tripped in an out of sleep.

The train was busy but not full. Business people tapped on laptop keyboards, students laughed and drank, children read and coloured, people using up time, waiting for a destination.

The job had been easy. Lyle had a routine. Surprise, subdue, extract information or exact revenge then finish things.

He caught the guy unawares as he came out of his bathroom, just dressed and ready for a night out, hair still damp from the shower, relaxed and unguarded. A trademark blow to the neck brought him down. Lyle handcuffed and gagged him then bound him into a kitchen chair and waited for him to come ‘round. He stared at the man’s confused then frightened face, explained to him why he was there, who had sent him. He showed him the large pair of pliers he had brought then removed the man’s right index finger with a single clip. As his victim struggled, fought against his restraints, tried to scream through the gag, Lyle slipped a length of piano wire around his neck, tightened it and fastened it hard with a practiced twist. As he waited for the man’s life to finish Lyle lit a cigarette, he picked up the severed finger and placed it carefully into a sandwich bag, this was his timecard, his proof of a job well done. Job number thirty complete and that was it. Self promise about to be realised, thirty kills and out: a change of scene; a different life; an anonymous 47 year old man in a Suffolk seaside town.

Stephen Lyle had not always been a killer. He had not come from a violent background. A middle class boy, well schooled, a good university but he was a bad choice maker. He had begun his working life in banking, sorting out the finances of the wealthy, advising on investments, pensions, tax. His clients were not all legitimate but he didn’t shy away. Lyle soon realised that he had a taste for danger and an elastic morality. He was dazzled by the gangland culture, the fraternity, the easy money, the women and the drinking. He had not allowed himself to drift into crime, he had sought it, put himself forward for it. First some small stuff, money laundering, using the bank as a front for sharp practice then more direct activity, collecting money, threatening late payers and that led to aggression and soon violence became his drug of choice.

His first kill had been a huge rush. He had been alone with a nasty little drug dealer in his stinking Deptford squat. The dealer owed twenty thousand and was twisting, whining, trying to buy more time. Lyle had hit him a few times but he still droned on and it was clear there was no money. The wire had been an accident, a piece of chance left on a table in the dingy squat. He had picked it up in his leather gloved hands while the man squirmed on the floor. At first Lyle just wanted to frighten him, he had whipped it around the scrawny neck and pulled it just tight enough to make the guy splutter, but once he had him in his control an immense feeling of power and serenity overwhelmed him. He kept tightening the cord, kept it tight while the man struggled and thrashed beneath him. When the man was dead he let go of the wire and the body slumped to the floor, the wire was almost embedded in the neck and Lyle had taken satisfaction from that, seen it as a warning sign to others. There had been no police, his new friends had seen to that, and his kill gained him status and respect. The rest was history, he liked killing, criminals want people killed and he began a career as hired hit. It had made him rich, feared and a target.

Now it was time to change. The thrill of killing had diminished and each new job brought another worry, fed his growing paranoia that he Stephen Lyle was the next victim. So he had decided to stop. He had enough cash and though an elaborate process that kept his name off the deeds he had bought a house in a respectable Suffolk town. A gentile and mild mannered place, close to the sea, and a million miles from his current life.

Lyle yawned. He was sticky, the sweat had dried on his forehead and his hands felt unclean. He looked to the sign at the end of the carriage, the bathroom was occupied and checking first that his bag was safely stowed, he got out of his seat and walked back down the train, past the travelling public though the cheerless buffet car until he found a vacant sign.

At the washroom door he paused slightly, allowing himself to rock with the sudden jolting motion of the train, his hand anchored on the door handle for a moment before he twisted it open then instantly recoiled, gasping , breathless with shock.

The dead eyes stared out at him from their puffy sockets, accusing, spiteful. Lyle stumbled back, steadying himself on the door’s metal frame.

The body was propped up on the ugly steel toilet. The face was grotesque, purple and bloated as though inflated with foul air. Around the neck a biting ligature of thin wire formed a cruel halo above the semi-clothed torso. Lyle swallowed hard; incredulous he reached forward and almost touched the corpse. His gaze was drawn to the body’s right hand, to the stump, black with congealed blood, which marked the position where a finger had once grown. There could be no doubt: this was the man who a few hours ago had slumped in front of him, whose life Lyle had squeezed away with a twisted wire. The dead man’s shirt had been ripped open revealing a patchwork of tattoos. Pictures of dragon-like reptiles merged with twisting female forms, and in their centre, cut deep into the chest, was a crude pentangle, its lines blurred by darkening blood.

Lyle turned and started to run, back though the carriages past half empty cans and foam-stained plastic glasses, past newspapers vying with cheerful children’s books for space on the narrow tables. He charged though the now desolate buffet car and on past suddenly vacant rows of chairs. Lyle was panicking now, he could feel his chest tighten with fear, logic failed him, where had all the people gone? They couldn’t have disappeared, it was impossible. Who had placed the body? How had they got hold of it?

He stopped running as he reached his seat, his chest heaving as he sucked air into his lungs his need for oxygen fuelled by the massive surge of adrenalin in his blood. He tried to collect himself, to stem his rising fear. Concentrate, he thought, who has done this? Worry about how later.

Lyle began to calm. His instinct for survival was winning and he was back in control. He surveyed his surroundings: tables as before but no passengers. His coffee had stopped steaming, his bag was unmoved and he noticed that opposite an abandoned laptop’s screen now traced a pattern of complex pipes. He listened. The train sounded faster than before but strangely its movement had become less marked. The familiar rocking of a train at speed was all but gone, as though the train were floating above the rails.

Kneeling on a seat Lyle pressed his face to the window and cupped his eyes, blanking out the fluorescent glare of the carriage lights. It took a few seconds for his eyes to become attuned to the dark but, even when he was sure they must be, he saw nothing. Through the window he stared into an abyss. There was no night sky, no hint of a tunnel wall or even of the train’s own lights radiating into the void, just total blackness.

  • 06.11.2008 4:24 PM PDT

"Run coward, I am Sinistar. I hunger coward!"

-Sinistar

Lyle stood again and looked up and down the carriage his body now on full alert. His mind began to churn, who could have done this? He had many enemies but this was an extravagant job to pull, surely too elaborate for the thugs that he kept an eye open for. Then suddenly a flicker! He sensed rather than saw it, but something had moved in the next carriage.

Lyle tore his bag from the overhead shelf, fished inside and withdrew a slim-bladed knife. Dropping the bag on his seat he checked the weapon, pulling it halfway from its leather scabbard as though reassuring himself of its lethality. Lyle slipped the knife into his trousers so that the handle lay flat against the small of his back and looked towards the door to the next carriage.

Now that he was alert again his confidence had recovered. His reason was returning. The dead man must have powerful friends, and these contacts would be violent and resourceful people and they had set him up. Lyle could deal with violent people: they were his living.

The door to the next carriage hissed open as Lyle’s foot pressed on the rubber mat. Cautiously he moved into the space between the cars and checked the now vacant toilets, nothing. He looked though the next glass door at the rows of seats ahead of him. To his right, about halfway down the carriage, he was surprised to see the top of a head facing away from him. Someone was sitting in the compartment.

As he entered the carriage Lyle made no attempt to conceal his presence. It had long been his style to intimidate, to attack. He strode up the aisle keeping his eyes fixed on the back of the head. Once he was in striking distance he slowed and removed the knife from its hiding place. The blade blinked in the bright overhead light and Lyle positioned it ahead of him, readying himself for conflict.

The head turned.

The man who met Lyle’s gaze was extraordinary. His face, framed in oil-black hair, was shocking. The skin appeared as if made of wax, or plastic - dead skin. The lips were white and thin, the eyebrows devoid of hair. Lyle’s mouth opened slightly. The man’s eyes connected with his. The eyes were black, each pupil and iris merged into a single dark hole - shark’s eyes. Lyle’s arm involuntarily relaxed and he brought the knife down to hang beside him, it clattered to the floor.

The creature spoke.
“Alea iacta est Mr Lyle! The die is cast.”

Lyle was stunned. The man’s appearance was terrifying, his eyes mesmerising. He tried to speak but his mouth was dry and his throat silent. He looked down from the stranger’s face. The clothes were odd, dark, from another age. His hands were spread out on the table in front of him, the fingers claw like, the nails horny and long. But it was the photographs laid out like cards in front of the hands that caused Lyle’s legs to buckle. Thirty pictures for thirty lives, each as Lyle remembered them, recently dead by his own hand. Some missed a finger or a hand, some were complete, and all were strangled, the evidence still visible, biting into the blackened necks.

“Do you believe in Hell Mr Lyle?” The voice was accented, foreign, somehow ancient.
“Do you believe that choices made in life are rewarded or punished after death?”
The stranger paused fixing Lyle with the macabre dark eyes.
“Running for a train in such an abused body was unwise: a fatal error in fact.”

Lyle stumbled back and began to flee, a raw visceral terror overwhelming him, but as he reached the door there was nothing behind it. The now familiar cloying blackness had replaced the next carriage. He put his hands up to his eyes and half sobbed, half bellowed a cry of anguish and defeat.

He turned back to face the carriage, it was now almost full. In each seat sat a man and all fixed their dead eyes on Lyle, each a victim from the photographs, reanimated and quite real.

The stranger stood in the centre of the aisle and smiled as thirty lengths of glinting wire were raised slowly into the air and one by one the passengers rose to their feet and moved in orderly procession slowly but deliberately towards Stephen Lyle.

Immobile with terror Lyle could do nothing, his usually powerful arms limp as though paralysed. Even as the first metal cord tightened about his neck he could not move, could not fend off his attacker. He could smell the fetid cold breath, hear the broken rasp in the dead man’s throat and feel the icy damp hands as they brushed his skin and tightened the noose. The pain was excruciating. He fought for breath, his lungs burnt, his veins strained against his skin, he waited for the darkness, for the end but it did not come. Death did not come even when the second then third wires tightened, just more pain, a wall of agony, all consuming, firing into every nerve in his body as each individual cell pleaded and grasped for oxygen.

“There is no end to this pain for you Mr Lyle.” The creature whispered, suddenly next to him, the waxy skin almost touching Stephen’s cheek.
The demon looked ruminatively back down the queue, observing each corpse patiently waiting their turn.
“Peace is for the pious.” He breathed the words, they sounded almost like regret, a lament for what might have been.

The forth corpse lurched forward and began to slip the wire over Lyle’s head, the cord catching on his ears, the pungent breath invading his nose. The pain redoubled, a different pain, a catastrophic explosion in his chest, sharp and stabbing, hot needles pushing out though his arms, he blinked and suddenly he was on his back. He could feel cold concrete beneath him, hear concerned voices and as his vision swam he saw yellow clothes, police, bright lights and someone was kneeling over him a metal paddle in each hand. Lyle drew in a huge breath of air, retching and coughing as life flooded back into his body. He was on a platform, paramedics above him, he was not dead!

Stabilised, a drip in his arm and oxygen tubes in his nose, bound in a warm red blanket Lyle lay in the ambulance. He was out of immediate danger and would soon be on his way to a hospital ward and another change of life, he had had his warning sign.

The paramedic checked Lyle’s blood pressure and then stepped out of the ambulance to talk with his colleague. Stephen sighed slightly and closed his eyes.

The icy finger caressed Lyle’s cheek and he opened his eyes to see the creature’s shark like eyes staring into his.
“The die is cast Mr Lyle, I will be waiting and time is nothing to me…”

Stephen Lyle, ruthless killer, hardened criminal and now lost soul began to scream.

The End

  • 06.11.2008 4:25 PM PDT
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The one called bones at least had a happy ending =).

[Edited on 06.11.2008 4:31 PM PDT]

  • 06.11.2008 4:30 PM PDT

"Run coward, I am Sinistar. I hunger coward!"

-Sinistar

Story's Name is Night Train.
I did not write that.

  • 06.11.2008 4:35 PM PDT
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The Haunted Log Cabin


I live in a log cabin in Bell Subdivision in Monticello, Kentucky. I don’t know what year the house was built, but it’s pretty old.

The first time I ever experienced anything was when I was about 10 years old. My mom and I were laying in my bed one night and we were both sound asleep. I woke up because I needed to go to the bathroom. So I sat up in my bed and all of a sudden I heard what sounded like a harmonica playing and it sounded like it was coming from the living room. There was no one else in the house but me and my mom at the time, so needless to say, I was pretty scared.

The next day I talked to one of my mom’s friends and she told me that her kids grandpa had died in my house and that he had died in my bedroom. She also said that he had always played the harmonica for his wife before she died.

A few days later, one of my friends stayed all night with me. She slept in the living room and I slept in my bedroom. I woke up about 3 am to her crying. I mean, she was hysterical. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that she had heard someone walking around in the bathroom and it sounded like someone wearing heavy work boots. Let’s just say that she never stayed all night with me after that.

Then I had another friend stay all night with me about three years ago and she was asleep in my bed and she told me that she woke up to see an old man standing over my bed just staring at her. Talk about creepy.

I’ve also had my mom tell me that she would be at home by herself and she would hear footsteps walking up and down the hallway. I haven’t heard anything for a long time and I hope it stays that way.

  • 06.12.2008 2:21 AM PDT
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Piece-by-Piece

There once was a crazy ghost over Poughkeepsie way that got folks so plumb scared that nobody would stay more than one night in its house. It was a nice old place, or was, until the ghost began making its presence known. It got so no one would enter the house, not even kids on a dare, and you know what they are like!

Now when my friend Joe heard a fancy old house in Poughkeepsie was selling dirt cheap, he decided to go have a look. He asked me about it and I told him about the spook, but Joe just laughed. "I don't believe in ghosts," he said and went to visit the agent selling the house.

Well, the agent gave Joe a key, but refused to look at the old house with him, which should have told Joe something. But Joe's a stubborn man who won't listen to reason. He even waited until after dark to visit the house for the first time, just to prove his point.

Joe got to the house around nine p.m. and he entered the front hallway. It was a large entrance and well-proportioned, but neglected-looking, with creepy cobwebs and dust everywhere. As Joe paused near the door to get his bearings, he heard a thump from the top of the staircase facing him. A glowing leg appeared out of nowhere and rolled down the steps, landing right next to Joe's feet. Joe gasped out loud and stood frozen to the spot. An arm appeared and rolled down to meet the leg. Next came a foot, then another arm, then a hand. Glowing pieces of body kept popping into existence and plummeting down the steps towards Joe.

Joe held his ground a lot longer than anyone else ever had, but when a screaming head appeared at the top of the steps and started rolling towards him, Joe had had enough. With a shriek that could wake the dead - those that weren't already up and haunting the house that is - Joe ran for his life; out of the house, out of the street, and right out of town, leaving his car behind him.

He called me the next day and asked me to drive his car down to the hotel where he had spent the night. Joe was headed back to Manhattan and refused to come within fifty miles of Poughkeepsie ever again. The agent gave up trying to sell the house after that, and the house fell into ruin and was eventually torn down.

  • 06.12.2008 2:29 AM PDT
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Lolzzz runescape was created Uncle Ruckus that is pro material

  • 06.12.2008 2:31 AM PDT

Posted by: My cousin
Lolzzz runescape was created Uncle Ruckus that is pro material
QFT

  • 06.12.2008 2:29 PM PDT

i didnt get the medic one

  • 06.12.2008 3:14 PM PDT

An old lady saw a ghost, she ran and tripped over a log and broke her neck. the end

  • 06.12.2008 3:16 PM PDT
  •  | 
  • Exalted Member

Wise men talk because they have something to say, fools because they have to say something.

Posted by: HAZMAT SNIPER
you ever fired a gun before?
Posted by: CYB3R K1LL3R
Posted by: HAZMAT SNIPER
Posted by: sumuglychick_2
double click = cocking shotgun/gun
how could he not get it?


Wait, I thought that the double click meant that there was two people on the line that hung up.


Yeah I'm pretty sure its not a gun, but a person hanging up another phone in the house. If it was a gun why didn't the girl hear it? I've never been on the phone and had whoever I was talking to ask what a noise coming from my end of the phone was and me not know. But who knows, I didn't write the story.

  • 06.12.2008 3:38 PM PDT
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This is a horror short story that the user Bansheethekilla made (the thread for this story is here). The original story had tons of grammar and spelling mistakes, and the whole story overall was just a mess. This is the rewrite done by me:

A Haunting

Ray Shay was a 21-year-old historian in the year 2009. One day, someone offered him a large sum of money that was enough for him to retire if he spent the night at the Wildersburg Mansion. Ray accepted the person’s offer, and the person gave him a video camera with 24 hours of video and a 3-day lasting battery. Ray headed down to the mansion after he bought food, drinks, and supplies, as he heard this mansion has been abandoned for 13 years because so many people have died in the mansion due to paranormal causes.

Ray entered the home and was disgusted by the filth. Luckily, he bought cleaning supplies, and for an hour he cleaned up the place enough for substandard living. Ray began to record himself with the video camera and then opened up a can of ravioli and took out a lighter and soon chowed down. After his meal, he chugged down a bottle of Mountain Dew, and started walking around the mansion. He heard a crash in the study and went to investigate. It was just a lightbulb that exploded. After he cleaned it up, he saw a shadow walk across the hallway. He got scared, but he decided he would follow it and document it anyways. Unfortunately, it disappeared before he could get it on video. He went down to the loft, and then to the tea room. In the tea room, he saw a really old lamp that turned on by itself, showed a lit up red, and then went pitch black.

Ray felt something tug on his pants and pull him down stairs. He lost the video camera in the frightening event, but quickly went back to get it. After retrieving the camera, he hid in the downstairs closet. Panting, he said to the camera: " My name is Ray Shay, I have spent approximately 8 hours in this abandoned mansion, and so far lots of terrifying things have happened to me. I’ve seen shadows, heard things breaking on their own, and things grabbing me. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on, but I think it’s the ghosts of all the house’s residents and I think they are pretty pissed with me coming into their home uninvited. If I don’t make it out of here, tell everyone I know I love them, and sorry to the guy that loaned me this camera."

Then all of a sudden, Ray fell into a red void, and pieces of metal started coming his way. As he was floating, the metal pieces started to form a cage, and a demon-like man about 40 stories tall picked up the cage, and said, "Child of the outside world, why have you intruded upon my territory? I offer no forgiveness of this sin!" Ray then replied, "Please let me go! I will never come back, just let me go!" The Demonoid then said, "Very well, but you will suffer the consequences." The Demonoid then stuck a mysterious coin into the man’s heart, and then crushed the cage. Ray fell about 14 feet and landed with a broken arm. The camera was busted. Luckily the tape was still ok, so he snagged that and left with all his groceries. Driving away in his car, Ray started to smell something burning. “It’s probably just me,” he said to himself. Later, Ray found the man who had offered him the reward and showed him the tape.

Unfortunately, the tape didn’t have any evidence of the terrifying events on it, but there was a deep whisper in the tape. Ray wrote it down. The whisper sounded like, "Ouy lliw eid ni evif sraey,” and then the tape melted into the ground. Exactly five years to the day Ray went into the mansion, Ray died of a heart attack. Shortly after his death, during his autopsy, the coroner scanned his brain and found the evidence of his visit to the Wildersburg Mansion, and soon, the large home was blocked off forever.

[Edited on 06.12.2008 3:51 PM PDT]

  • 06.12.2008 3:42 PM PDT

-------/\-------
------//\\------
-----//--\\-----
--_//-- --\\_--
--\ (_---_) /--
"Laa shay'a waqui'n moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine. The wisdom of our Creed is revealed through these words. We work in the dark to serve the light. We are Assassins. Nothing is true, everything is permitted."

Posted by: theHurtfulTurkey
Chuck Norris.


No, but really, this is some scary stuff right here


Wow, just saw this on YouTube.


I watched the first one a couple seconds in and stopped: To creepy. I've already seen the second one.

These are really creepy. I might attempt a ghost story on here. *Thread Saved*

  • 06.12.2008 3:44 PM PDT

Posted by: xTRIGGER092x
This is a horror short story that the user Bansheethekilla made (the thread for this story is here). The original story had tons of grammar and spelling mistakes, and the whole story overall was just a mess. This is the rewrite done by me:

A Haunting

Ray Shay was a 21-year-old historian in the year 2009. One day, someone offered him a large sum of money that was enough for him to retire if he spent the night at the Wildersburg Mansion. Ray accepted the person’s offer, and the person gave him a video camera with 24 hours of video and a 3-day lasting battery. Ray headed down to the mansion after he bought food, drinks, and supplies, as he heard this mansion was abandoned for 13 years because so many people have died in the mansion due to paranormal causes.

Ray entered the home and was disgusted by the filth. Luckily, he bought cleaning supplies, and for an hour he cleaned up the place enough for substandard living. Ray began to record himself with the video camera and then opened up a can of ravioli and took out a lighter and soon chowed down. After his meal, he chugged down a bottle of Mountain Dew, and started walking around the mansion. He heard a crash in the study and went to investigate. It was just a lightbulb that exploded. After he cleaned it up, he saw a shadow walk across the hallway. He got scared, but he decided he would follow it and document it anyways. Unfortunately, it disappeared before he could get it on video. He went down to the loft, and then to the tea room. In the tea room, he saw a really old lamp that turned on by itself, showed a lit up red, and then went pitch black.

Ray felt something tug on his pants and pull him down stairs. He lost the video camera in the frightening event, but quickly went back to get it. After retrieving the camera, he hid in the downstairs closet. Panting, he said to the camera: " My name is Ray Shay, I have spent approximately 8 hours in this abandoned mansion, and so far lots of terrifying things have happened to me. I’ve seen shadows, heard things breaking on their own, and things grabbing me. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on, but I think it’s the ghosts of all the house’s residents and I think they are pretty pissed with me coming into their home uninvited. If I don’t make it out of here, tell everyone I know I love them, and sorry to the guy that loaned me this camera."

Then all of a sudden, Ray fell into a Red void, and pieces of metal started coming his way. As he was floating, the metal pieces started to form a cage, and a demon-like man about 40 stories tall picked up the cage, and said, "Child of the outside world, why have you intruded upon my territory? I offer no forgiveness of this sin!" Ray then replied, "Please let me go! I will never come back, just let me go!" The Demonoid then said, "Very well, but you will suffer the consequences." The Demonoid then stuck a mysterious coin into the man’s heart, and then crushed the cage. Ray fell about 14 feet and landed with a broken arm. The camera was busted. Luckily the tape was still ok, so he snagged that and left with all his groceries. Driving away in his car, Ray started to smell something burning. “It’s probably just me,” he said to himself. Later, Ray found the man who had offered him the reward and showed him the tape.

Unfortunately, the tape didn’t have any evidence of the terrifying events on it, but there was a deep whisper in the tape. Ray wrote it down. The whisper sounded like, "Ouy lliw eid ni evif sraey,” and then the tape melted into the ground. Exactly five years to the day Ray went into the mansion, Ray died of a heart attack. Shortly after his death, during his autopsy, the coroner scanned his brain and found the evidence of his visit to the Wildersburg Mansion, and soon, the large home was blocked off forever.
whoah... awesome story.

  • 06.12.2008 3:48 PM PDT

-------/\-------
------//\\------
-----//--\\-----
--_//-- --\\_--
--\ (_---_) /--
"Laa shay'a waqui'n moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine. The wisdom of our Creed is revealed through these words. We work in the dark to serve the light. We are Assassins. Nothing is true, everything is permitted."

My story is about a team of Spartans. Read this if you've read the books.

Here's my story:
_____________________________________________________________ ___________

A Spartan Haunting

Yellow team was lowered into a dense jungle for a mission. They were to recon the area for an assault that would take place later. The members of the team were Aaron-014, Becca-048, David-124, and Flo-056. The team was close to each other, but David and Flo shared a very close bond.

The team separated to cover more ground. David searched the jungle, until stumbling upon a large cave. Turning on his headlights, David went inside to investigate. He keyed his com unit to tell the others about his find, but the cave prevented the signal from connecting. A nervous feeling in his stomach, David turned around to exit the cave....

But the exit wasn't there. It had vanished.

Feeling a deep sense of fear, David continued into the cave. He thought he saw things moving in the shadows, but ignored them. Suddenly, an earspliting scream echoed throughout the cave. It was David's friend, Flo. David ran farther into the cave, turning around a corner, and........

He ran into Becca and Aaron, the other members of Yellow Team. "David! Where have you been?" Becca asked. "It's been four hours. Come on, the dropship's here to pick us up." David looked at the two. "But we need to save Flo! Didn't you hear her scream?"

Aaron looked at David with an odd look. "Are you sure? We've been in this cave for at least 2 hours, and we didn't hear anything." The team proceded out of the cave. No sign of Flo. They sent her a com mesage. No reply. After another search, they found her. Ripped apart and hung from the top of the cave.

Four Weeks Later

David was shook up. Badly. He hadn't been the same since the incident with Flo. He had been silent and sweating for the past hour.

The team was heading back to the site for the main assault. Aaron had found the camp and mapped the route, so the team would be able to get there quickly. Fortunatly, the team didn't have to go near the cave.

"You alright, David?" Aaron asked. David looked away. "Fine." he muttered. Suddenly, the pelican rocked violently and tumbled. "Mayday! We're hit!!!" The team was thrown out of the ship. David fell down into the jungle.

He hit the ground with a thud. After getting up and shaking off the fall, he started to navigate to get back to the crashsite. After an hour he decided he was lost. But then he heard a noise. It was a girl's voice. "Oly Oly Oxen Free. Oly Oly Oxen Free." After wandering around trying to find the source, he stumbled upon the cave. The same opening to the cave that Flo had been hung from. And just inside the opening was...............

"No." David whipered.

It was Flo. She looked at him and smiled. David tried to run, but his legs wouldn't respond. She walked up to him. "Hello, David." She said. "I came back for you."

David found the will to move his legs. He ran, but something pulled him back. "Oh, David, don't run. Don't you want to be with me? I'm your friend and teammate, you know."

David looked at the ghost of Flo. "Please, no. Please! I'm not ready to die!!!!!"

"Oh, don't worry David. It'll be ok. After all, Spartans never die."

Flo moved closer to David.

_____________________________________________________________ ___________

Ok, that's my story. Hoped you like it.

[Edited on 06.12.2008 4:38 PM PDT]

  • 06.12.2008 4:28 PM PDT

"Run coward, I am Sinistar. I hunger coward!"

-Sinistar

Posted by: Rogue Ninja 411
My story is about a team of Spartans. Read this if you've read the books.

Here's my story:
_____________________________________________________________ ___________

A Spartan Haunting

Yellow team was lowered into a dense jungle for a mission. They were to recon the area for an assault that would take place later. The members of the team were Aaron-014, Becca-048, David-124, and Flo-056. The team was close to each other, but David and Flo shared a very close bond.

The team separated to cover more ground. David searched the jungle, until stumbling upon a large cave. Turning on his headlights, David went inside to investigate. He keyed his com unit to tell the others about his find, but the cave prevented the signal from connecting. A nervous feeling in his stomach, David turned around to exit the cave....

But the exit wasn't there. It had vanished.

Feeling a deep sense of fear, David continued into the cave. He thought he saw things moving in the shadows, but ignored them. Suddenly, an earspliting scream echoed throughout the cave. It was David's friend, Flo. David ran farther into the cave, turning around a corner, and........

He ran into Becca and Aaron, the other members of Yellow Team. "David! Where have you been?" Becca asked. "It's been four hours. Come on, the dropship's here to pick us up." David looked at the two. "But we need to save Flo! Didn't you hear her scream?"

Aaron looked at David with an odd look. "Are you sure? We've been in this cave for at least 2 hours, and we didn't hear anything." The team proceded out of the cave. No sign of Flo. They sent her a com mesage. No reply. After another search, they found her. Ripped apart and hung from the top of the cave.

Four Weeks Later

David was shook up. Badly. He hadn't been the same since the incident with Flo. He had been silent and sweating for the past hour.

The team was heading back to the site for the main assault. Aaron had found the camp and mapped the route, so the team would be able to get there quickly. Fortunatly, the team didn't have to go near the cave.

"You alright, David?" Aaron asked. David looked away. "Fine." he muttered. Suddenly, the pelican rocked violently and tumbled. "Mayday! We're hit!!!" The team was thrown out of the ship. David fell down into the jungle.

He hit the ground with a thud. After getting up and shaking off the fall, he started to navigate to get back to the crashsite. After an hour he decided he was lost. But then he heard a noise. It was a girl's voice. "Oly Oly Oxen Free. Oly Oly Oxen Free." After wandering around trying to find the source, he stumbled upon the cave. The same opening to the cave that Flo had been hung from. And just inside the opening was...............

"No." David whipered.

It was Flo. She looked at him and smiled. David tried to run, but his legs wouldn't respond. She walked up to him. "Hello, David." She said. "I came back for you."

David found the will to move his legs. He ran, but something pulled him back. "Oh, David, don't run. Don't you want to be with me? I'm your friend and teammate, you know."

David looked at the ghost of Flo. "Please, no. Please! I'm not ready to die!!!!!"

"Oh, don't worry David. It'll be ok. After all, Spartans never die."

Flo moved closer to David.

_____________________________________________________________ ___________

Ok, that's my story. Hoped you like it.



Not bad. I liked it!

  • 06.12.2008 6:27 PM PDT

Okay, I write a lot, but not horror. This is my first attempt. Please give constructive criticism.

The Pacifist.

During the years of the Vietnam War, many protests broke out, some more violent than others. A strange man known only as "The Pacifist" made protesting his life, staging many protests on his own, and joining any he found. During one protest in 1970, he made a proclamation that no matter the cost, he would stop all wars, if it took him forever.

During Operation Iraqi Freedom, a British SAS team was trapped in a village, and took shelter in a bombed out hospital. They all fell asleep in the night, but woke up to find a disturbing sight: every weapon in their arsenal, every grenade, and every last piece of ammo had disappeared, without a trace. They looked around the building, but found absolutely no evidence of anyone ever being there.

The team searched the village, and found only one survivor, a middle-aged bald man. Surprisingly, he could speak fluent English. When asked about the incident, he told the SAS that it had been a ghost that stalked villages, but caused no harm. All it would do was take any weapons or harmful things, and hide them so they could bring no harm. Believing him to be insane, the British soldiers thanked him for the story and quickly left. At debriefing, they asked for an ID on the man they had met. Their CO paused when he saw the answer. After much pressing, he finally told them that the man they had met had been dead for twenty years.

Eh, not so good, but I think I have a better one.

  • 06.12.2008 6:56 PM PDT

-------/\-------
------//\\------
-----//--\\-----
--_//-- --\\_--
--\ (_---_) /--
"Laa shay'a waqui'n moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine. The wisdom of our Creed is revealed through these words. We work in the dark to serve the light. We are Assassins. Nothing is true, everything is permitted."

Posted by: CJ1145
Okay, I write a lot, but not horror. This is my first attempt. Please give constructive criticism.

The Pacifist.

During the years of the Vietnam War, many protests broke out, some more violent than others. A strange man known only as "The Pacifist" made protesting his life, staging many protests on his own, and joining any he found. During one protest in 1970, he made a proclamation that no matter the cost, he would stop all wars, if it took him forever.

During Operation Iraqi Freedom, a British SAS team was trapped in a village, and took shelter in a bombed out hospital. They all fell asleep in the night, but woke up to find a disturbing sight: every weapon in their arsenal, every grenade, and every last piece of ammo had disappeared, without a trace. They looked around the building, but found absolutely no evidence of anyone ever being there.

The team searched the village, and found only one survivor, a middle-aged bald man. Surprisingly, he could speak fluent English. When asked about the incident, he told the SAS that it had been a ghost that stalked villages, but caused no harm. All it would do was take any weapons or harmful things, and hide them so they could bring no harm. Believing him to be insane, the British soldiers thanked him for the story and quickly left. At debriefing, they asked for an ID on the man they had met. Their CO paused when he saw the answer. After much pressing, he finally told them that the man they had met had been dead for twenty years.

Eh, not so good, but I think I have a better one.


It was prettty good, but how did the CO know he had been dead for twenty years? Maybe it could have been his father.......... >_>
>_>

<_<

  • 06.12.2008 7:02 PM PDT

Posted by: Rogue Ninja 411
It was prettty good, but how did the CO know he had been dead for twenty years? Maybe it could have been his father.......... >_>
>_>

<_<


Yeah, I didn't explain that well. They did a background check to see if anyone in their files matched the discription, the only guy that came up fit the description perfectly, and had been dead for twenty years. As I said, not so great, but I think I have another idea I'll post later.

  • 06.12.2008 7:57 PM PDT