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  • Subject: Short, Scary Stories!
Subject: Short, Scary Stories!

Heres one for you,

On the night of 9/9/10 My xbox took a -blam!- 4 days before reach came out. I was pissed.

Pretty creepy right?

  • 09.19.2010 10:15 PM PDT

Sometimes, I dream about cheese.

Great now I gotta watch funny stuff on youtube

  • 09.19.2010 10:42 PM PDT

For the sake of argument, allow me to stoop to your level.

I'm glad I waited until morning to find this thread.

  • 09.20.2010 5:01 AM PDT
Subject: Short, Scary Stories!

I am a car buff that enjoys racing 'Hogs and 'gooses, Favorite weapon combination: Sniper rifle/SMG. I excel at flushing out enemies.

The watcher and statues were the creepiest

  • 09.21.2010 3:24 PM PDT
Subject: Short, Scary Stories!

"I like the Battle Rifle, but I can survive without it. A good player uses all of his assets that are available to him. " - Blue Max70

So true...


Posted by: JacobGRocks
Some pokemon creepypasta:

I met my best friend in elementary school. We had both brought our Gameboys to school one day and sat together at lunch once we realized what we had in common. I had Blue version and a Venausaur, he had Red version and a Charizard. He and I battled whenever we could and became great pals. As the years went on, we continued playing Pokemon, even through high school. Throughout all of the Pokemon generations and versions we went though, the battles never became dull.

As we approached college, we had to go separate ways. We didn't speak much after that; we had such busy lives to follow in college. I didn't think we would ever regain the friendship we once had. Then, Pokemon Diamond and Pearl were released in 2007 and we once again enjoyed our common interest in the series. We battled and talked over Wi-Fi nearly every day for a few weeks after its release.

My friend told me that he planned to play through his old Red version again. Since it had been about three months after the release of Diamond and Pearl, we didn't play them as much as before. I asked him why he wanted to play that dusty old cartridge, and he responded, "I don't know, maybe I'll find something that no one has found before."

Despite my unwillingness to run through my Blue version with him, he played his Red version anyway. After he started his journey, I never talked to him again. About three weeks later, I received a call from my friend's parents.

Even though he never had any similar problems before, he died from what was speculated to be an intense seizure. He was alone in his dorm room until a roommate, who was unfortunately too late, found him lying on the ground, lifeless, and strangely wearing his favorite headphones. I flew out as soon as I could to attend his funeral. His roommate, who was going to attend as well, informed me that just days before the incident my friend was becoming obsessed with Lavender Town and its music. My friend had aspired to become a sound engineer after graduating and had a wide range of audio skills at his disposal. He could always hear quiet sounds vividly while I failed to even recognize them at all.

As soon as he rediscovered Lavender Town, he ripped its audio to his computer and began experimenting with it. He had told the roommate that, "The frequencies in this one are different; they blend together in a special way. But there's something missing. I think something was meant to be mixed in, but it never could have worked on the Gameboy. It was so limited in terms of sound bandwidth." I had the chance to go through his laptop one last time, so I visited his Recent Items list. At the very top read "lavender.wav". Along with a few photos of us together, I copied this to my flash drive. Caught in my sadness over my best friend's death, I ignored the audio file until a few weeks before writing this. I somehow recently decided that I needed to retrace what had happened.

Driven by my desire to know what caused his untimely death, I opened the properties dialog box for the audio file, without opening the file to listen to it. Within the comments section of the metadata, he had written, "binaural tones, i added the necessary frequencies, i know why lavender town sounds so sad, and i know the part that was missing". Even eerier, I looked in his default audio program (still without listening to the file) and found the playcount for this file. One. I chatted with a sound enthusiast online in hope to decipher these cryptic comments. He gave me some special software which would analyze the audio in real time and said that was the most that could be done. This video is a screen recording of me running the aforementioned software with the original audio file. To this day I have not listened to the actual audio, as I am too emotionally disturbed by my best friend, Anthony's, death.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MK2iLnTR9V8

If you think that couldn't get creepy enough, just read the first letter of each paragraph.


DUUUDE!!!

  • 09.21.2010 3:36 PM PDT


Posted by: TWacAusDemHaus
I'm glad I waited until morning to find this thread.


True.

  • 09.21.2010 3:43 PM PDT
Subject: Short, Scary Stories!
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THIS IS THE STORY OF A DAY WHERE THERE WAS ALL THIS BLOOD. A MAN WAS WALKING AROUND AND BLOOD STARTED COMING OUT OF HIM EVERYWHERE. THERE WAS SO MUCH BLOOD THAT IT FILLED UP AN ELEVATOR. HE WENT TO THE STORE AND THERE WAS JUST BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE! PEOPLE WERE SLIPPING IN IT AND THEY WERE ALL GROSSED OUT. HE TRIED TO GO SWIMMING AND ALL OF THE SHARKS WENT NUTS AND BITTENED EVERYBODY. HE GOT CHASED BY ALL THE VAMPIRES EVER. ONE TIME THE BLOOD GOT A KID AND A DOG. AT THE END OF THE DAY EVERYONE DECIDED THEY WOULD SEND HIM TO SPACE SO THAT HE WOULD STOP GETTING BLOOD EVERY WHERE. THE SCARIEST PART IS THAT THE MAN WAS YOU!!! (OR HE WAS A LADY IF YOU ARE A LADY) AND YOU FORGOT THAT THIS HAPPENED.

  • 09.21.2010 5:34 PM PDT
Subject: Short, Scary Stories!

I wonder whats for dinner?


Posted by: SolidRed Thorn
Memories

John watched as the moving van drove away. He was tired and ready to collapse. He had just gotten out of Connecticut where he attended his mother's funeral and had moved into a small apartment in New York. He went over to the window and watched the cars busilly speed by in the night.
He thought about his mother for a bit. He loved her so much. When he had heard the news of her passing, he had wept uncontrollably. John thought about that horrible night for a second, and wiped a tear off his face. He went over to the pile of box's in his room that had been delivered by the moving van that he had yet to unpack. He opened the box labeled "nick-nacks" and scavanged through it. He pulled out an old video camera.
It had been his mother's. It had been used by her to record many of his childhood events, such as birthdays and such. His living room had partially been set up. His couch and TV were already in their positions that he intended them to be in.
Wanting to relax, John took the tape out of the camera, threw it into the VCR, and sat down on his couch. He watched his mothers recording of his 8th birthday for a few minutes before dozing off.
John woke up to the sound of his TV blasting static. He rubbed his eyes for a secound. Something seemed odd, or off. His attention zapped back to the TV when the static stopped. There was somebody lying on a couch on the TV screen, being videotaped from the left side of the sofa so that the couch was facing the left side of the screen. The person working the camera seemed to be looming over the couch. He focused harder on the screen.
The person on the screen wasn't a "somebody"... it was him.
He sat up fast. The John on the TV screen did the same.
"This is whats being videotaped now..." he said to himself.
Before he could glance to the left to see the person videotaping him, John heard his mother whisper "You were such a wonderful son."

The other residents on the seperate floors of the apartment building woke up suddenly to hear a man's screams echoing through the building.

This story was kind of sweet until the very end. Pretty amazing either way though.

  • 09.22.2010 8:05 PM PDT

scary as hell first the room then the head and then that thing saying welcome to hell

  • 09.23.2010 2:18 PM PDT

I DO understand the Halo story. Marathon story, not so much. PID? What is there not to get?
Steam ID (as of 10/29/12): John Freeman


Posted by:
Bloody Fingers
NOTE THIS IS NOT MY STORY!
There once was a man who would travel from town to town in search of ghosts, proving he would not be frightened by them. On one occasion he stopped by a motel. As he walked in, he asked the receptionist if there were any supernatural findings in any of the rooms.
"Actually yes" she exclaimed.
"I would like to stay in that room for one night if I may" the man requested.
"Sir, you really would not want to check into that room, people have gone insane from the mere sight of the ghost."
"Oh no I do this for a living." he stated.
After much arguing over his safety, he was finally allowed to check into his room.
He placed his suitcase on his bed, and examined the room for spirits. It seemed to him the ghost had not noticed he was there. He then extracted his acoustic guitar and began to play. After playing for a few minutes, he heard noises coming from the closet across the room. The door opened slowly and a rush of hot air brushed the mans face. He continued to play, and looked over to see what would come out of the closet, keeping his expression blank.
A hand reached out, soaked with blood and torn flesh. The man continued to play, as the ghost said "I am the ghost with bloody fingers" and repeated this phrase for quite sometime.
The man, obviously not amused, continued playing the guitar. The ghost was now annoyed with the mans reaction and continued his phrase until the man finally said:
"Cool it man! Get yourself some band-aids!"

my grandma told me that one, lol:)

  • 09.23.2010 2:32 PM PDT
Subject: Short, Scary Stories!

@JumpZero

The greatest scary story ever told.

But seriously, lolwut.

[Edited on 09.27.2010 11:22 AM PDT]

  • 09.27.2010 11:20 AM PDT

Grif: We dont even know what currency is in the future...they could have shells...or laser beams"

Simmons:.....Laser Beams?.....

Grif: Yeah...that would be the coolest wallet EVER

The Watcher wasn't scary in the least.

  • 09.27.2010 11:31 AM PDT
Subject: Short, Scary Stories!

Creepypasta - Not sure if it's been posted yet, but this is Video Game Creepypasta.


I always liked Super Mario 64 when I was a kid. I remember playing it at my aunt's house all the time. Well, one day a pop-up appeared out of nowhere as I was watching gameplay footage on Youtube. I was a little startled, and was about to close the window, until I realized that it was a website showing of a mint condition copy of Super Mario 64 for sale. There was a picture and everything. I usually don't trust these things, but the feeling of nostalgia overpowered me, and I wanted to buy it.

The whole business was peculiar, seeing as how the owner of the game wanted the buyer to send an envelope containing $10 to and address on the site, instead of using something like PayPal. What made things even more strange was that when I tried to gain access to the website (I wrote down the URL) after encountering...problems with the game, the page was nowhere to be found.

A few days after the $10 was mailed, I got a package containing the new copy of the game. The first thing I noticed when I opened the small box was that the "official sticker" with Mario flying in the air was apparently peeled off or something. In it's place was a piece of duct tape with "Mario" crudely written on it in permanent marker. I felt a little ripped-off, but as long as the game worked, I didn't care.

I got out my Nintendo 64 and put the cartridge in. The screen turned on with the familiar Mario face that you could stretch and twist aimlessly. I remembered laughing all the time at the results as a kid and decided to mess around for old times sake. I moved the cursor over to Mario's ear and pulled it to elven proportions. I was going to do the same to the other ear, when the TV suddenly produced loud static. Mario's whole head started deforming and twisting in ways that I didn't even know were possible for the model. Random sound effects from the game started playing along with the static. As all this was occurring, I could hear a faint voice whispering in Japanese. The voice was stammering and whimpering.

I immediately shut off the game and tried again. I didn't bother with the Mario head this time. Just selected a new file and started playing.

When I selected the file, the game skipped the opening monologue by Peach and the courtyard outside. Mario was just placed right inside the castle. Creepier still, Bowser didn't say anything either. I tried to ignore it and played anyway. However I also noticed that their was no music. Just dead silence. Their weren't even any Toads around to talk to. The only door I could enter was the Bob-omb Battlefield. The other doors wouldn't even respond to my button commands.

The portrait to Bob-omb Battlefield wasn't the usual picture. It was just a stark white canvas. I was still trying to convince myself that these were just minor glitches, and that they wouldn't effect the gameplay at all. Once I entered the portrait, the image suddenly went from a blank canvas to the Lethal Lava Land painting. You know, that slightly unsettling image of the flame with the evil smile? Yeah, that's when I started getting really suspicious.

The mission select menu came up, and yet another weird detail was present. Instead of "Big Bob-omb on the Summit", the mission was called "TURN BACK". I have no idea what drove me to press A, but I did.

The level seemed normal. Everything was how I remembered it. I thought I could finally enjoy my favorite childhood game. But then I saw him. Luigi. I was absolutely shocked. He was never in this game. His model wasn't even a Mario palette swap. He looked like a completely original model. Luigi just stood there until I tried to approach him. He started running at unexpected speeds. I followed suite and went through the level. Strange things happened as I pursued him. each time I picked up a coin, the enemies and music would get slower, and the scenery would look darker in color and more morbid. It kept gradually getting worse until I collected a 5th coin. Then, the music just stopped. The enemies laid down on the ground like they were dead. I was seriously freaked out, but I kept chasing Luigi.

I went up the hill. No cannon balls rolled down trying to knock me over. I really wasn't surprised at this point. Luigi was always just out of my sight as I ran. Once I reached the summit, I saw yet another object out of place. A small cottage was all that was seen on the top of the hill. Luigi was nowhere to be found. The cottage was certainly od looking for a Mario game. It was old, plain, and broken down. Regardless of my fears at that moment, I had Mario enter the cottage.

As soon as the door closed. A disturbing picture of a hanged Luigi immediately popped up along with a very frightening scare chord. It sounded like a violin screech accompanied by loud piano banging. Mario fell to his knees and sobbed for roughly 5 minutes, then the screen irised-out.

I returned to the castle. Mario just slumped out of the painting. The image switched from the Lethal Lava Land portrait to the image of Luigi hanging himself. The room was different this time. It was now a small hallway. Toads with blank expressions and white robes lined the sides of the hallway. Their was another painting at the opposite end that just completely and utterly scared me. It was a picture of my family It wasn't even a photo from the time Super Mario 64 was released. It was a very, very recent photo. I remembered posing for it last weekend.

I reached for the on/off switch on the N64. There was no way I was going to play this anymore. However, when I flipped the switch, the game was still on. I flipped it back and forth, but to no avail. I tried unplugging the whole system, but it never left the screen. I was even still able to control Mario. I couldn't just leave it on forever...so I kept playing. I went to the photo of my family, and jumped in. Only one mission was available, of course. This one was called "Run, Don't Walk". I selected the mission. 'Let's-a-go'...

The level started in a flooded hallway with platforms floating on the water. Mario landed on one of these, and the camera turned to show what was behind. A silent black void was slowly approaching Mario. It didn't look like anything. It didn't even look like finished graphics. Just a giant, blocky, black blob. I started jumping from platform to platform. With no goal in sight, I kept running, the darkness slowly but surely gaining speed. This kept going on for what felt like hours. I was really doubting there would ever be an end. Mario was just going in circles. Finally, the black blob/void/thing caught up with Mario, and enveloped him in darkness. He didn't scream or resist at all. It just consumed him.

Mario fell out of the painting and back into the castle. I lost one of my 3 lives. The room was different now. Some of the Toads were gone, and the painting looked different. My family and I were in the same positions, but our bodies were partially decomposed. It looked too real to be photoshopped. It looked more like someone just took our dead bodies and posed them.

Regardless, I jumped into the painting again. Mario was in an small room. There was still only one mission available. It was called "I'm right here." spelled just like that. I selected the mission and prepared for the worst. Mario landed in a small, dark room. There no visible way out. The room was empty except for a piano in the corner. I knew what that meant. i was stuck in there with the Mad Piano. I approached it and it started chasing me as always. There was no way to damage it, so I had no choice but to let Mario take damage.

When he lost all his health, the usual death animation didn't happen. Mario just got mauled by the piano. He fell as his blood and guts spilled on the floor, and the camera panned to a top down view of his corpse. A distorted version of the merry-go-round music from Big Boo's Haunt played as the screen slowly transitioned from the in-game shot to a photo-realistic sketch of Mario's dead body in the same view as the shot. It was very unsettling. I was crying softly as I gazed upon the image. I lost another life.

The photo of my family was shown again. We were even more rotten then before. The view zoomed into the painting, like I was warping again. I was greeted with a shot of Peach's castle from the outside. The castle was crumbling in ruin. The fields were on fire. The sky was pitch black. Bowser's laugh played on a loop in the background as children mockingly chanted "You couldn't save her!". This went on for a long time, until, a close-up of of Peach's face accompanied by an extremely loud screech interrupted the loop without notice. Peach's mouth was wide open as if she was screaming, and her eyes were empty, black holes.

Suddenly, I was back in the hallway as Mario was once again ejected out of the painting. Now all of the Toads were gone, and me and my family looked positively repulsive. Maggots were wriggling around in holes in our flesh. Guts were spilling out of our bodies. My dad's eyeball was hanging loose from its socket. It was too much to bear, but something still urged me to trudge on. I jumped into the painting, with only one life remaining.

This time, there was no name for the mission. Just a blank space where the title would be. I selected the mission, and Mario landed on a very small island in the middle of the ocean. There was a solitary sign. It only read "DIVE". I did just as it said and entered the water.

Next post continues it


  • 09.27.2010 11:49 AM PDT

Continued from last post

The ocean was dark and empty. There were no fish. I wasn't even able to see anything in the water besides Mario. I swam downwards. I kept going for quite some time, yet Mario never ran out of breath. I counted roughly 10 minutes of swimming until I decided to go back up. Just as I turned Mario around, it came. A huge, and I mean huge Unagi the Eel came out of nowhere and swallowed Mario whole. I was dumbfounded. It went by so fast I wasn't even sure what I saw. The Game Over screen didn't show up. All that happened was a fade-out.

The photo of my family and I was shown again. We were plain skeletons now. Once again, it looked very real. I couldn't move the camera at all. It just stayed focused on the picture. I shut off the game and turned it on again. I chose my file, but it just went to the skeleton photo of my family. I tried this about 3 more times before giving up. I desperately wanted to stop, but some force kept me from walking away. I decided to select the only other saved file. The camera once again focused on the skeleton picture, but this time they were in a different position. As if they were a different family.

  • 09.27.2010 11:49 AM PDT
Subject: Short, Scary Stories!
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The names Kieran. I've been here for about 3 years, this is my 3rd account due to unforseen matters. I am 15 years of age and a drummer. All you really need to know.

We are Anonymous.
We are Legion.
We do not Forgive.
We do not Forget.

I walking into Game and......Halo had run out of stock. D:

  • 09.27.2010 12:30 PM PDT

there good storyies and i heard two before but i ot an even scarier story ok

this one time i looking in the mirror the end

  • 09.27.2010 10:48 PM PDT

Ah that book is fantastic

  • 09.28.2010 6:19 PM PDT

one day when i went to visit my bro in miami ....we were walking dow lincoln road there were alot of joggers that day for some reason...i was changing the song to the beatles the end when a jogger bumps into me and leans on my brother he was holding his chest and screaming my bro had a panic attack and froze in shock i drop my ipod to the ground ...the man looked at me in the eyes and started to teear he closes his eyes and i hear the end by the beatles in the background..... i didnt know what to do so i waited until his heart stopped then i beagan cpr ,a police man was by and called for help he shoved me of the man i didnt know what to do ...to this day i dnt know wat happened to him in the hospital

  • 09.28.2010 10:54 PM PDT

*ahem*

Let me begin...

*pulls out script*

YER MOM.

The end! :D

  • 09.29.2010 6:54 PM PDT
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What, what? In the butt!

I have the nastiest story ever.

I saw a girl dissappear into the restrooms with a cucumber and some KY lube. She left the restrooms 10 minutes later and threw the cucumber into a trash can. I picked up the cucumber and noticed that it was extremely greasy and slippery and also had small traces of feces on it.

I can only imagine what she did with it.

  • 10.04.2010 5:36 PM PDT
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Follow me if i advance, avenge me if i die with my brothers, and kill me if i retreat!!


Posted by: YoungFastSnip3r
The Intruder


My friend's sister frequently babysat. One night, she was watching three kids, whose parents were going to be out until about 2:00am. She fed the kids and then they watched some movies. Around 8:00pm, she put the two-year-old to bed. At 8:30, she put the four-year-old to bed and at 9:00, the eight-year old.



She was still hungry so she went back downstairs to make herself a sandwich. When she was almost done, she heard the eight-year-old crying and calling her name. She went upstairs to see what was wrong. When she got up there, the child said she was cold, so the babysitter looked around for another blanket.



As she was doing that, she noticed that the window was open. She thought she had closed all of them but didn't think anything else of it. She closed the window, gave the little girl another blanket, and checked the other windows in the other two children's rooms to make sure they were secure, and then went back downstairs.



When she went back to the kitchen, she noticed that her sandwich was gone. She just brushed it off and blamed it on the dog. She made herself another sandwich. Again, she heard crying, but this time it was the four-year-old. She went to his room, and he too said he was cold. She noticed the window was open again. She was worried this time because she knew she had locked it. She didn't want to scare the child so she just shut and locked it.



She returned downstairs and turned on the alarm system. When she went back to the kitchen, she discovered that her second sandwich was gone. She was really worried so she decided to call the cops. When she told them that her sandwiches were disappearing, they thought she was crazy. She then told them about the windows opening repeatedly and they said it was probably just the kids doing it. After she hung up, she made herself a third sandwich.



She soon heard the two-year-old crying and went up to see what was wrong. Her window was also open. At this point, she was very frightened, so she gathered all of the kids, the cordless phone, and took them into a pantry closet in the kitchen. She called the police again, saying that she was really scared because someone keeps opening the windows and stealing her sandwiches -- and it's not the kids. They told her not to be worried, that they would be over in a few minutes to check it out.



She hung up the phone and held onto the kids tightly. A few minutes later, she heard a noise in the kitchen, and saw the knob turning on the pantry door. She was about ready to scream when a cop opened the door. She asked why they came so fast. He had a worried look on his face and told them to get out of the house. He then told her that on the phone, he heard a double click.


Took me a second to get it.


i dun get it

  • 10.07.2010 12:26 AM PDT

Member since 07'! ;D


Posted by: Andrew O260

Posted by: YoungFastSnip3r
The Intruder


My friend's sister frequently babysat. One night, she was watching three kids, whose parents were going to be out until about 2:00am. She fed the kids and then they watched some movies. Around 8:00pm, she put the two-year-old to bed. At 8:30, she put the four-year-old to bed and at 9:00, the eight-year old.



She was still hungry so she went back downstairs to make herself a sandwich. When she was almost done, she heard the eight-year-old crying and calling her name. She went upstairs to see what was wrong. When she got up there, the child said she was cold, so the babysitter looked around for another blanket.



As she was doing that, she noticed that the window was open. She thought she had closed all of them but didn't think anything else of it. She closed the window, gave the little girl another blanket, and checked the other windows in the other two children's rooms to make sure they were secure, and then went back downstairs.



When she went back to the kitchen, she noticed that her sandwich was gone. She just brushed it off and blamed it on the dog. She made herself another sandwich. Again, she heard crying, but this time it was the four-year-old. She went to his room, and he too said he was cold. She noticed the window was open again. She was worried this time because she knew she had locked it. She didn't want to scare the child so she just shut and locked it.



She returned downstairs and turned on the alarm system. When she went back to the kitchen, she discovered that her second sandwich was gone. She was really worried so she decided to call the cops. When she told them that her sandwiches were disappearing, they thought she was crazy. She then told them about the windows opening repeatedly and they said it was probably just the kids doing it. After she hung up, she made herself a third sandwich.



She soon heard the two-year-old crying and went up to see what was wrong. Her window was also open. At this point, she was very frightened, so she gathered all of the kids, the cordless phone, and took them into a pantry closet in the kitchen. She called the police again, saying that she was really scared because someone keeps opening the windows and stealing her sandwiches -- and it's not the kids. They told her not to be worried, that they would be over in a few minutes to check it out.



She hung up the phone and held onto the kids tightly. A few minutes later, she heard a noise in the kitchen, and saw the knob turning on the pantry door. She was about ready to scream when a cop opened the door. She asked why they came so fast. He had a worried look on his face and told them to get out of the house. He then told her that on the phone, he heard a double click.


Took me a second to get it.


i dun get it


It meant somebody was listening on another phone.

  • 10.07.2010 1:06 AM PDT

PART I:

Last year I spent six months participating in what I was told was a psychological experiment. I found an ad in my local paper looking for imaginative people looking to make good money, and since it was the only ad that week that I was remotely qualified for, I gave them a call and we arranged an interview.

They told me that all I would have to do is stay in a room, alone, with sensors attached to my head to read my brain activity, and while I was there I would visualize a double of myself. They called it my "tulpa".

It seemed easy enough, and I agreed to do it as soon as they told me how much I would be paid. And the next day, I began. They brought me to a simple room and gave me a bed, then attached sensors to my head and hooked them into a little black box on the table beside me. They talked me through the process of visualizing my double again, and explained that if I got bored or restless, instead of moving around, I should visualize my double moving around, or try to interact with him, and so on. The idea was to keep him with me the entire time I was in the room.

I had trouble with it for the first few days. It was more controlled than any sort of daydreaming I'd done before. I'd imagine my double for a few minutes, then grow distracted. But by the fourth day, I could manage to keep him "present" for the entire six hours. They told me I was doing very well.

The second week, they gave me a different room, with wall-mounted speakers. They told me they wanted to see if I could still keep the tulpa with me in spite of distracting stimuli. The music was discordant, ugly and unsettling, and it made the process a little more difficult, but I managed nonetheless. The next week they played even more unsettling music, punctuated with shrieks, feedback loops, what sounded like an old school modem dialing up, and guttural voices speaking some foreign language. I just laughed it off - I was a pro by then.

After about a month, I started to get bored. To liven things up, I started interacting with my doppelganger. We'd have conversations, or play rock-paper-scissors, or I'd imagine him juggling, or break-dancing, or whatever caught my fancy. I asked the researchers if my foolishness would adversely affect their study, but they encouraged me.

So we played, and communicated, and that was fun for a while. And then it got a little strange. I was telling him about my first date one day, and he corrected me. I'd said my date was wearing a yellow top, and he told me it was a green one. I thought about it for a second, and realized he was right. It creeped me out, and after my shift that day, I talked to the researchers about it. "You're using the thought-form to access your subconscious," they explained. "You knew on some level that you were wrong, and you subconsciously corrected yourself."

What had been creepy was suddenly cool. I was talking to my subconscious! It took some practice, but I found that I could question my tulpa and access all sorts of memories. I could make it quote whole pages of books I'd read once, years before, or things I was taught and immediately forgot in high school. It was awesome.

That was around the time I started "calling up" my double outside of the research center. Not often at first, but I was so used to imagining him by now that it almost seemed odd to not see him. So whenever I was bored, I'd visualize my double. Eventually I started doing it almost all the time. It was amusing to take him along like an invisible friend. I imagined him when I was hanging out with friends, or visiting my mom, I even brought him along on a date once. I didn't need to speak aloud to him, so I was able to carry out conversations with him and no one was the wiser.

I know that sounds strange, but it was fun. Not only was he a walking repository of everything I knew and everything I had forgotten, he also seemed more in touch with me than I did at times. He had an uncanny grasp of the minutiae of body language that I didn't even realize I was picking up on. For example, I'd thought the date I brought him along on was going badly, but he pointed out how she was laughing a little too hard at my jokes, and leaning towards me as I spoke, and a bunch of other subtle clues I wasn't consciously picking up on. I listened, and let's just say that that date went very well.

By the time I'd been at the research center for four months, he was with my constantly. The researchers approached me one day after my shift, and asked me if I'd stopped visualizing him. I denied it, and they seemed pleased. I silently asked my double if he knew what prompted that, but he just shrugged it off. So did I.

TO BE CONTINUED...

  • 10.07.2010 1:20 AM PDT

PART 2

I withdrew a little from the world at that point. I was having trouble relating to people. It seemed to me that they were so confused and unsure of themselves, while I had a manifestation of myself to confer with. It made socializing awkward. Nobody else seemed aware of the reasons behind their actions, why some things made them mad and others made them laugh. They didn't know what moved them. But I did - or at least, I could ask myself and get an answer.

A friend confronted me one evening. He pounded at the door until I answered it, and came in fuming and swearing up a storm. "You haven't answered when I called you in -blam!- weeks, you dick!" He yelled. "What's your -blam!- problem?".

I was about to apologize to him, and probably would have offered to hit the bars with him that night, but my tulpa grew suddenly furious. "Hit him," it said, and before I knew what I was doing, I had. I heard his nose break. He fell to the floor and came up swinging, and we beat each other up and down my apartment. I was more furious then than I have ever been, and I was not merciful. I knocked him to the ground and gave him two savage kicks to the ribs, and that was when he fled, hunched over and sobbing.

The police were by a few minutes later, but I told them that he had been the instigator, and since he wasn't around to refute me, they let me off with a warning. My tulpa was grinning the entire time. We spent the night crowing about my victory and sneering over how badly I'd beaten my friend.

It wasn't until the next morning, when I was checking out my black eye and cut lip in the mirror, that I remembered what had set me off. My double was the one who'd grown furious, not me. I'd been feeling guilty and a little ashamed, but he'd goaded me into a vicious fight with a concerned friend. He was present, of course, and knew my thoughts. "You don't need him anymore. You don't need anyone else," he told me, and I felt my skin crawl.

I explained all this to the researchers who employed me, but they just laughed it off. "You can't be scared of something that you're imagining," one told me. My double stood beside him, and nodded his head, then smirked at me.

I tried to take their words to heart, but over the next few days I found myself growing more and more anxious around my tulpa, and it seemed that he was changing. He looked taller, and more menacing. His eyes twinkled with mischief, and I saw malice in his constant smile. No job was worth losing my mind over, I decided. If he was out of control, I'd put him down. I was so used to him at that point that visualizing him was an automatic process, so I started trying my damnedest to not visualize him. It took a few days, but it started to work somewhat. I could get rid of him for hours at a time. But every time he came back, he seemed worse. His skin seemed ashen, his teeth more pointed. He hissed and gibbered and threatened and swore. The discordant music I'd been listening to for months seemed to accompany him everywhere. Even when I was at home - I'd relax and slip up, no longer concentrating on not seeing him, and there he'd be, and that howling noise with him.

I was still visiting the research center and spending my six hours there. I needed the money, and I thought they weren't aware that I was now actively not visualizing my tulpa. I was wrong. After my shift one day, about five and a half months in, two impressively men grabbed and restrained me, and someone in a lab coat jabbed a hypodermic needle into me.

I woke up from my stupor back in the room, strapped into the bed, music blaring, with my doppelganger standing over me cackling. He hardly looked human anymore. His features were twisted. His eyes were sunken in their sockets and filmed over like a corpse's. He was much taller than me, but hunched over. His hands were twisted, and the fingernails were like talons. He was, in short, -blam!- terrifying. I tried to will him away, but I just couldn't seem to concentrate. He giggled, and tapped the IV in my arm. I thrashed in my restraints as best I could, but could hardly move at all.

"They're pumping you full of the good -blam!-, I think. How's the mind? All fuzzy?" He leaned closer and closer as he spoke. I gagged; his breath smelt like spoiled meat. I tried to focus, but couldn't banish him.

The next few weeks were terrible. Every so often, someone in a doctor's coat would come in and inject me with something, or force-feed me a pill. They kept me dizzy and unfocused, and sometimes left me hallucinating or delusional. My thoughtform was still present, constantly mocking. He interacted with, or perhaps caused, my delusions. I hallucinated that my mother was there, scolding me, and then he cut her throat and her blood showered me. It was so real that I could taste it.

The doctors never spoke to me. I begged at times, screamed, hurled invectives, demanded answers. They never spoke to me. They may have talked to my tulpa, my personal monster. I'm not sure. I was so doped and confused that it may have just been more delusion, but I remember them talking with him. I grew convinced that he was the real one, and I was the thoughtform. He encouraged that line of thought at times, mocked me at others.

Another thing that I pray was a delusion: he could touch me. More than that, he could hurt me. He'd poke and prod at me if he felt I wasn't paying enough attention to him. Once he grabbed my testicles and squeezed until I told him I loved him. Another time, he slashed my forearm with one of his talons. I still have a scar - most days I can convince myself that I injured myself, and just hallucinated that he was responsible. Most days.

Then one day, while he was telling me a story about how he was going to gut everyone I loved, starting with my sister, he paused. A querulous look crossed his face, and reached out and touched my head. Like my mother used to when I was feverish. He stayed still for a long moment, and then smiled. "All thoughts are creative," he told me. Then he walked out the door.

Three hours later, I was given an injection, and passed out. I awoke unrestrained. Shaking, I made my way to the door and found it unlocked. I walked out into the empty hallway, and then ran. I stumbled more than once, but I made it down the stairs and out into the lot behind the building. There, I collapsed, weeping like a child. I knew I had to keep moving, but I couldn't manage it.

I got home eventually - I don't remember how. I locked the door, and shoved a dresser against it, took a long shower, and slept for a day and a half. Nobody came for me in the night, and nobody came the next day, or the one after that. It was over. I'd spent a week locked in that room, but it had felt like a century. I'd withdrawn so much from my life beforehand that nobody had even known I was missing.

TO BE CONTINUED...

  • 10.07.2010 1:22 AM PDT