The scary thread

[David_G]

OK, I might as well contribute myself:


"Daddy, I had a bad dream."

You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness ? it's 3:23. "Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?"

"No, Daddy."

The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in the darkness of your room. "Why not sweetie?"

"Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up."

For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can't take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.

That was actually delightfully creepy. Granted, I haven't clicked any spoiler yet because I here talk of creepy pasta.

Heh, that's why I don't put all my creepy stuff in spoilers. People must read it, or at least skim through it.

 

[s0denone]

I've got one:
So ur with ur honey and yur making out wen the phone rigns. U anser it n the vioce is ?wut r u doing wit my daughter?? U tell ur girl n she say ?my dad is ded?. THEN WHO WAS PHONE?

The spelling and grammar police?

The most terrifying of them all!! ohohoh, no thats just a stupid meme or something that just has to posted on any scary thread or story. Lest the internet police gets you. OOHohoh *more ridiculous ghost sounds*

Oh and scare update!

Spoiler: the doll

I gave her the doll on her birthday.
She loved it at first, told me it was so beautiful. That it?s hair was so soft and the dress was so pretty. She wouldn?t let it out of her sight for days. During the day she set it on the table, so she could see it while cleaning the house. During the night it sat next to the bed, looking at us sleep with big blue unmoving eyes.
But my wife?s love for the doll soon changed. Soon I noticed something was bothering here. I asked of course, but she wouldn?t tell me at first, said she was just being silly. But day after day she closed herself more and more for me. Until I couldn?t take it anymore. I pressed her, told her she would tell me what was going on right now or I would drag her to a doctor.

She finally broke and crying words came spilling out.
She then told me it was the doll. It scared her. She told me she had the feeling it was constantly watching her. Sometimes it even seemed like it moved.
This worried me and I went to take a look at the doll.
It sat motionless on the little table in the bedroom. The big blue eyes unchanged. I couldn?t help but sigh from relief a bit. Of course she?s not moving, she couldn?t have been.
I went to turn away, but then saw a tiny movement from the corner of my eye.
I turned back to the doll, picking it up from the table. I held my face close to the doll?s, staring into the eyes.
Something was moving.
I tried to concentrate, tried to look closer.
Yes, there it definately was, movement. But not from the eye itself, it was behind the eye.
Before I could register this the eye burst and out of it spilled at least ten wriggling maggots.
I dropped the doll in shock, backing away instinctively.

My wife yelled from the other room, asking me what was going on. I yelled back at her not to worry. I picked up the doll again, using a tissue to wipe away the maggots. Inside I saw more, pressing against the skin and the plastic outer layer.

So soon already. I had hoped she would have lasted longer.
I will have to get a new one for her, maybe keep it alive at first. That way it?ll last longer for sure.
While I throw away the old doll, I think about how my wife always says she loves the thick blonde curls of little Katie down the block.
Doesn?t she also have blue eyes?

Holy crap that is one sick story.
Loved it.
I cannot really contribute to the thread, but that story definitely deserves special attention. Did not see that coming.

 

[garfoldsomeoneelse]

Here's one I made a while ago. Based on an actual experience.

Spoiler

Living Silence, by SODAssault

John pulled down the brim of his cap, as though it would help shield him from the torrential rain. Leaving his broken-down car behind him, he marched along the side of the road towards civilization. A darkness free from unnatural light seemed to make every noise around him louder and sharper as his hearing adjusted to compensate for his inability to see.

Cupping his cell phone under his hand to shield it from the rain, he pointed the screen downward so that he could see the road he would otherwise have had to navigate through painful stumbling. He would have waited in the car and called for a tow truck, but his phone had no service. Loose gravel crunched free from the edge of the seemingly ancient road under his feet.

Distant lightning strikes lit up the sky, but the tall trees on either side of the road only cast foreboding shadows in the flashes of light.

"Fucking Jeeps," John muttered loudly so he could hear himself over the roaring downpour, "they promise you can drive up a sheer cliff, but the second the timing belt comes loose, the engine tears itself to pieces." Only a quarter of a mile from his stranded vehicle, he felt no real sense of progress, only a feeling of walking farther into a void that led to nowhere.

He stole a glance at the screen of his phone. Still no service. "This is just fucking great," he thought aloud in a monotone. His hand holding the phone started shaking as the screen grew brighter. John stood puzzled for a solid five seconds before he realized he was receiving a call with his phone set on silent.

Hunching over awkwardly to shield the phone with his head, he held it up to his ear. "Hello?" Without warning, a deafening, prolonged blast of static issued from the earpiece, causing John to recoil. He held it away from his head and shouted "Hello? Anybody there?!"

The call ended, leaving no number to identify it by. Suddenly, the rain stopped, as though someone had thrown a switch. It didn't die down, it just... stopped. Aside from the sound of rain droplets still falling off of the trees, all John could hear was the sound of his own shallow breathing, and then wet scraping sound of his feet shuffling over the concrete. He stood still, instinctively aware that something was wrong.

A rational man to his core, John did everything he could to shake off the deep, foreboding sense of being watched by a predatory beast. Aside from the light from his phone, the smell of wet soil... was it soil? No. Something more toxic. He inhaled deeply through his nose and was immediately hit with a blast of nausea. It wasn't an offensive odor, but somewhere, deep in the most primitive part of his mind, an enormous red flag went up. He was sensing something worse than the smell of a thousand rotting carcasses, although to his subconscious, they represented the same thing: the coming of death.

John quickened his pace, walking briskly, but not running, so as to avoid galvanizing whatever was watching him into attacking. He felt sick, as though he'd just ran ten miles with a severe case of the flu. His head shifted between sensations of being weightless and being full of iron as his desire to flee tried to win out over the influence of something far worse.

Focusing on the ground, he realized he could see his own shadow... a light was shining on him from behind! He spun around, saw a pair of headlights cresting the hill he'd just walked down from. He stood in place, feeling relief wash over him. "Thank fuck," he said, and sat down. The drive can't have seen him yet, but would quickly have an impossible time missing him. As it got closer, John could see that it was an older van, painted the color of rust... or perhaps it was completely rusted over, John couldn't be sure.

As it neared, the pressure in his head turned to a splitting headache, but he was too gratified by the sight of it to care. Sitting on the side of the road, he watched as the van decelerated and lurched to a grinding halt next to him. For a solid minute, nothing happened. He couldn't see inside the fogged-up windows, and he couldn't sense any shift in the suspension. It was completely still. Curious, he mustered all of his strength, stood up, and rapped softly on the window. It shattered completely, and he saw that there was nobody in either the driver or passenger seats. John frowned, and cleared his throat.

"Hello in there? Anybody...?" he said with a rasping voice, inhaling sharply to regain his breath. He lurched to the rear of the van, and grasped the handle of the windowless, sliding door. Unlatching the door and shoving it open, he looked inside when A SKELETON POPPED OUT AND ATE HIS FACE! AND THEN JOHN DIED! I KNOW THIS BECAUSE I AM JOHN'S GHOST! BOO!

 

[Ldude893]

Damn, I'm coming back to this thread on Halloween.

 

[Shoqiyqa]

I've got one:
So ur with ur honey and yur making out wen the phone rigns. U anser it n the vioce is ?wut r u doing wit my daughter?? U tell ur girl n she say ?my dad is ded?. THEN WHO WAS PHONE?

Edit: Lol, this is copypasta, btw. This isn't mine.

Her mom who has lung cancer. I win

"You want me to describe it? Dude, watching two people getting it on is bad enough. Watching your own daughter with her girlfriend is sick. Asking me to describe it all as well is going Too Damn Far. Sheesh." *hangs up*

I haven't clicked any spoiler yet because I here talk of creepy pasta.

Ah, click them. Just sit well back from the screen for the one that got all the angry responses and the coffee advert. The rest of them are fine.

 

[inFAMOUSCowZ]

and now i must change my pants and view the rest in the morning.

 

[Blue Musician]

Hurry up and post I'm falling asleep here.

Even after all this time I am getting asleep, these things are not scary at all.

 

[PurpleLeafRave]

Here's one I made a while ago. Based on an actual experience.

Spoiler

Living Silence, by SODAssault

John pulled down the brim of his cap, as though it would help shield him from the torrential rain. Leaving his broken-down car behind him, he marched along the side of the road towards civilization. A darkness free from unnatural light seemed to make every noise around him louder and sharper as his hearing adjusted to compensate for his inability to see.

Cupping his cell phone under his hand to shield it from the rain, he pointed the screen downward so that he could see the road he would otherwise have had to navigate through painful stumbling. He would have waited in the car and called for a tow truck, but his phone had no service. Loose gravel crunched free from the edge of the seemingly ancient road under his feet.

Distant lightning strikes lit up the sky, but the tall trees on either side of the road only cast foreboding shadows in the flashes of light.

"Fucking Jeeps," John muttered loudly so he could hear himself over the roaring downpour, "they promise you can drive up a sheer cliff, but the second the timing belt comes loose, the engine tears itself to pieces." Only a quarter of a mile from his stranded vehicle, he felt no real sense of progress, only a feeling of walking farther into a void that led to nowhere.

He stole a glance at the screen of his phone. Still no service. "This is just fucking great," he thought aloud in a monotone. His hand holding the phone started shaking as the screen grew brighter. John stood puzzled for a solid five seconds before he realized he was receiving a call with his phone set on silent.

Hunching over awkwardly to shield the phone with his head, he held it up to his ear. "Hello?" Without warning, a deafening, prolonged blast of static issued from the earpiece, causing John to recoil. He held it away from his head and shouted "Hello? Anybody there?!"

The call ended, leaving no number to identify it by. Suddenly, the rain stopped, as though someone had thrown a switch. It didn't die down, it just... stopped. Aside from the sound of rain droplets still falling off of the trees, all John could hear was the sound of his own shallow breathing, and then wet scraping sound of his feet shuffling over the concrete. He stood still, instinctively aware that something was wrong.

A rational man to his core, John did everything he could to shake off the deep, foreboding sense of being watched by a predatory beast. Aside from the light from his phone, the smell of wet soil... was it soil? No. Something more toxic. He inhaled deeply through his nose and was immediately hit with a blast of nausea. It wasn't an offensive odor, but somewhere, deep in the most primitive part of his mind, an enormous red flag went up. He was sensing something worse than the smell of a thousand rotting carcasses, although to his subconscious, they represented the same thing: the coming of death.

John quickened his pace, walking briskly, but not running, so as to avoid galvanizing whatever was watching him into attacking. He felt sick, as though he'd just ran ten miles with a severe case of the flu. His head shifted between sensations of being weightless and being full of iron as his desire to flee tried to win out over the influence of something far worse.

Focusing on the ground, he realized he could see his own shadow... a light was shining on him from behind! He spun around, saw a pair of headlights cresting the hill he'd just walked down from. He stood in place, feeling relief wash over him. "Thank fuck," he said, and sat down. The drive can't have seen him yet, but would quickly have an impossible time missing him. As it got closer, John could see that it was an older van, painted the color of rust... or perhaps it was completely rusted over, John couldn't be sure.

As it neared, the pressure in his head turned to a splitting headache, but he was too gratified by the sight of it to care. Sitting on the side of the road, he watched as the van decelerated and lurched to a grinding halt next to him. For a solid minute, nothing happened. He couldn't see inside the fogged-up windows, and he couldn't sense any shift in the suspension. It was completely still. Curious, he mustered all of his strength, stood up, and rapped softly on the window. It shattered completely, and he saw that there was nobody in either the driver or passenger seats. John frowned, and cleared his throat.

"Hello in there? Anybody...?" he said with a rasping voice, inhaling sharply to regain his breath. He lurched to the rear of the van, and grasped the handle of the windowless, sliding door. Unlatching the door and shoving it open, he looked inside when A SKELETON POPPED OUT AND ATE HIS FACE! AND THEN JOHN DIED! I KNOW THIS BECAUSE I AM JOHN'S GHOST! BOO!

You know, I have this habbit of reading the endings of stories first. I'm glad I have it now.

 

[Woodsey]

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck... I feel uneasy now. Fake but who gives a damn. Very related to the scary thing I was going to post, namely this:
There's a similar story attached to this, the difference being someone made a video with it which is even scarier than the actual story.

I can see that there's an image that keeps flashing up for a split-second, but I really don't have the balls to pause the video and look at it xD

 

[Tekkawarrior]

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck... I feel uneasy now. Fake but who gives a damn. Very related to the scary thing I was going to post, namely this:
There's a similar story attached to this, the difference being someone made a video with it which is even scarier than the actual story.

I can see that there's an image that keeps flashing up for a split-second, but I really don't have the balls to pause the video and look at it xD

Just did, its a negative colored ventriloquist doll.

 

[silversnake4133]

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck... I feel uneasy now. Fake but who gives a damn. Very related to the scary thing I was going to post, namely this:
There's a similar story attached to this, the difference being someone made a video with it which is even scarier than the actual story.

I can see that there's an image that keeps flashing up for a split-second, but I really don't have the balls to pause the video and look at it xD

Just did, its a negative colored ventriloquist doll.

..Dooooctor Freeeeemaaaannn! D8

 

[Offworlder_v1legacy]

It's 10:09, I have an assignment to do, and I want to sleep tonight, good day.

 

[silversnake4133]

Goody. I have been looking for one of these for a while... /x/ seems to not have much of these anymore... =(

<spoiler=Fallout 2>http://img229.imageshack.us/img229/6665/1277356823556.jpg

<spoiler=Pokemon>During the first few days of the release of Pokemon Red and Green in Japan, back in February 27, 1996, a peak of deaths appeared in the age group of 10-15.

The children were usually found dead through suicide, usually by hanging or jumping from heights. However, some were more odd. A few cases recorded children who had began sawing off their limbs, others sticking their faces inside the oven, and chocked themselves on their own fist, shoving their own arms down their throat.

The few children who were saved before killing themselves showed sporadic behavior. When asked why they were going to hurt themselves they only answered in chaotic screams and scratched at their own eyes. When showed what seemed to be the connection to this attitude, the gameboy, they had no response, but when combined with either Pokemon Red or Green, the screams would continue, and they would do their best to leave the room it was located in.

This confirmed the authorities suspicion that the games, somehow, had a connection to these children and the deaths. It was a strange case, because many children who had the same games did not show this behavior, but only a few. The police had no choice but to pursue this, since they had no other leads.

Collecting all the cartridges these children had purchased, they kept them sealed away as strong evidence to look over later. They decided the first thing to do was to talk to the programmers themselves. The first person they met was the director of the original games, Satoshi Tajiri. When told about the deaths surrounding his games, he seemed slightly uneasy, but admitted nothing. He lead them to the main programmers of the game, the people responsible for the actual content.

The detectives met Takenori Oota, one of the main programmers of the game. Unlike Satoshi, he did not seem uneasy, but very kept. Explaining that it was impossible to use something like a game to cause such deaths, and also bringing up the point that not all the children were affected, he brushed it off as some kind of odd coincidence or mass hysteria. It seemed like he was hiding something, but he wasn't giving way. Finally, he did say something interesting.

Takenori had heard a rumor going around that the music for Lavender Town, one of the locations in the game, had caused some children to go ill. It was only a rumor, and had no real definite back up, but it was still something to look into.

He directed the detectives to Junichi Masuda, the music composer of the series. Masuda had also heard of these rumors, but again said they had no evidence that his music was the cause. Even to prove a point he played the exact song from the game completely through with no effects to anyone, the detectives nor Masuda himself, feeling anything different or odd. Although they still had their suspicions of Masuda and the music of Lavender town, it seemed they had reached another dead end.

Going back to the cartridges they had seized from the homes of the children, they decided to take a slightly more direct look at the games. They knew that it was these games that gave the children the ill effects, so they took extreme caution. Popping in the cartridge and turning the console on, the game screen booted. The title screen appeared, and the option to continue or create a new game appeared.

When they chose to continue the game, stats of that game appeared. They saw the names of the children who had played, usually "Red" or another simple name. However, the interesting thing was the time played and the number of Pokemon they owned. On every game, the time was very low, and all of them had only a single Pokemon in their inventory. They came to the stunning reality that it could not have been the music from Lavender town that had caused such ill effects in the children, since it was impossible to reach that part of the game in such small amount of time and with only one Pokemon in their inventory. This brought them to the conclusion that something early on in the game had to be the cause.

If it wasn't the music, nor the title screen, it had to be something within the first few minutes of the game itself. They had no choice but to turn off the game now and go back to the programmers. Asking for a list of all the programmers from Takenori, they found, surprisingly, that one of the programmers had committed suicide shortly after the game was released. His name was Chiro Miura, a very obscure programmer who had provided very little for the game. Even more interestingly, he had requested his name did not appear in the credits of the game, and so it was not.

Looking over the evidence found at Chiro's apartment, they found many notes written in bold marker. Most of it was crumbled, or marked out, making it very difficult to read. They few words they could find in the mess was "Do not enter", "Watch out" and "COME FOLLOW ME" in bold. The detectives were unsure what these meant, but knew they had to have a connection. Further searching, they discovered Chiro was good friends with one of the map designers, Kohji Nisino, and this was probably the only reason Chiro had given a part in making the game.

Kohji Nisino, since the release of the game, had locked himself in his apartment, barely leaving in the dark of night to fetch anything he might need. He told his friends and family he was mourning for his dear friend Chiro, but they didn't believe this, since Nisino had locked himself up the day the game was put in stores, a few days before Chiro had killed himself.

It was troubling, but the authorities finally persuaded Nisnino to sit down and speak with them. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days, dark rings under his eyes. He stunk, his nails had grown black and his hair was greasy, sticking to his forehead and neck. He spoke in stutters and murmurs, but at least he had something to say.

When asked if he knew anything about the children who had died after exposure of the game and if it had any connection to the game, he answered them seemingly carefully, choosing his words thoughtfully before answering. He told them that his friend Chiro had an interesting idea with the game, something he had wanted to try since he heard the project was starting. Nisino himself knew Takenori, the director and main programmer, for a long time, so he could easily get a mediocre programmer in on the project with a little persuasion. It seemed Chiro had convinced Nisino to get him in on the project, and it had worked.

The detectives knew they were on to something. This unknown obscure programmer, Chiro, had to have something to do with it, something... They asked what Chiro's idea was, why he wanted so badly to have a part in making this children's game. Nisino told them that Chiro never told him much about it, other than a few details every now and then. He wanted to insert a special Pokemon in the game, one completely different from all the others. It would serve as an extra, a kind of out of place thrill for the player. It wasn't, however, Missing No. It couldn't be. With the gameplay time recorded on the cartridges, it was impossible for the children to have time to meet that Pokemon.

Nisino, throughout the entire conversation, seemed to break down even more with every question. The detectives pushed him more and more, searching through his mind for any and every scrap of knowledge this man had no game and Chiro... and Chiro's intentions...

It was when they asked about the notes found in Chiro's home that he snapped. From under the couch Nisino was sitting on he whipped out a pistol, pointing it straight at the police while backing away a few steps. Then, just as quickly, he brought the pistol to his face.

"Don't follow me..." muttered Nisino as he stuck the pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger. It was too quick for the police to react. It was done. Nisino had killed himself, repeating slightly differently what was written on one of Chiro's papers...

It seemed all leads had finally died. The team who had created this original game were splitting up, becoming harder to find. It was as if they were keeping a secret. When the police finally managed to talk with anyone who had parts in the game, even the obscure character designers or monster designers, it seemed they had nothing of interest to say. Most of them didn't even know Chiro, and the few who did only seen him once or twice working on the game itself. Throughout all of this the only confirmation they had was that Chiro was indeed the one who had worked on the very early parts of the game.

It had been a couple of months after the original children suicides and the death rate had dropped dramatically. It seemed that the game was no longer giving any ill effects to any children. The call back of the games that was planned was canceled, since it seemed the game was no longer harming any children. They had began to think that maybe Takenori was right and it was all just a very odd coincidence or mass hysteria... Until they received the letter.

It was given to one of the detectives himself, quite directly out on the street. It was a woman who gave him the note, a very frail, thin, sick looking thing. She gave him the letter quickly, telling him it was something he needed to see, and without waiting for a response or another word, she disappeared into the crowd. The detective brought it to his office, and calling the others in, he brought it out and read it aloud.

It was a letter written by Chiro himself, but it wasn't one found at his apartment. They had throughly searched and cleared out the place, so wherever this letter had come from, it wasn't kept at his home. It was signed to be given to Nisino. It started off quite formal, a hello, how are you, regards to the family, and such. After one or two of these normal paragraphs, they reached a section that requested Nisino to get him into the game team, to get him a programming position in Pokemon Red and Green.

As the letter continued, the handwriting seemed to grow more jittery. He talked about a glorious idea he had, a way to program something unseen in any game before. He said it would certainly revolutionize not only the gaming industry, but everyone. He went on to say that it was a very simple procedure to program this idea into the game. He did not even have to add any foreign programming, but could use what was already given in the game itself. This would, the detectives agreed, make it impossible to notice any obscurities in the programming itself. It was a perfect way to hide whatever this was.

The letter ended abruptly. There was no goodbye, no say hi to the family, no write back, or thank you. Nothing like that. It was just his name, written hard in the letter where the paper almost broke through. It was only his name. "Chiro Miura."

This was the nail in the coffin for the detectives. They had no more suspicion about the cause. Chiro had programmed something into the early parts of the game, something maddening. To further increase this streak of success, they discovered that the programming team had worked in pairs, even Chiro himself. He had worked with another programmer, Sousuke Tamada.

If anyone knew what the secret in this game was, Sousuke Tamada would be the man. This was their final hope of unraveling this mystery once and for all.

They learned Sousuke had provided a lot of programming to the game, and seemed to be an average, good guy and worker. They were easily allowed into his home, a fair place, and they entered his living room where they sat. Sousuke did not sit, however. He stood by the window of the second story floor, looking out onto the busy street. He was smiling a little.

There is no direct witnesses to the events that followed. The only thing from this conversation that remained was found on a voice recorder sitting on the table in front of the two detectives assigned to talk to Sousuke. What follows is the unedited recording:

"Sousuke Tamada, what part did you have in the games Pokemon Red and Green?" asked the first detective.

"I was a programmer." His voice was light, friendly, almost too friendly. "That's all."

"Am I right in knowing that the programmers working on the game worked in teams?" asked the detective.

One could hear the voice of feet moving on the floor slightly. "You would be right," said Sousuke after a moment of silence.

"And your partner, his name was--" The detective was quickly cut off by Sousuke's eerie voice.

"Chiro Miura... That was his name. Chiro Miura."

Another silence. It seemed the detectives were a little uneasy about this man. "Could you tell us if Muira ever acted strange at all? Any particular behaviors you observed while working with him at all?"

Sousuke answered them. "I don't know him that well, really. We didn't meet up frequently, only every once in a while to trade data, or when the entire group was called up for a meeting... That's the only times I really ever saw him. He acted normal, as far as I could tell. He was a short man, and I think this affected his consciousness.. He acted weaker than any other man I met. He was willing to do a lot of work to gain recognition, this I do know. I think..."

Silence. "Yes?" asked the detective, pushing for him to continue. "You think what?"

"I think he was a very weak man. I think he wanted to prove himself regardless of this point... I think he wanted to make himself known for something special, something that would make people forget about the way he looked and pay attention to the powerful mind that lay inside his skull.. Unfortunately for him, however.. heheh.. He didn't have much of a mind to back up that reasoning."

"Why do you say that?" asked the second detective.

"Well it's the simple truth," answered Sousuke quickly. His feet could be heard moving across the tiled floor. "He was nothing special, even if he wanted to believe so. You can't become greatness, even if you believe it. It's impossible... Somehow, I think Chiro knew this himself, somewhere deep in there, he knew it."

The detectives were silent again, not sure how to steer the conversation. After a moment, they continued. "Can you tell us what Chiro's part of the game was? What did he work on exactly?"

Sousuke answered more quickly than before. "Nothing... I mean, nothing important. He worked on some obscure parts of the beginning of the game." A pause, then a little more information. "It was Oak's part to be exact. He worked on some of Oak's parts... When he's seen first, you see.."

"What else?" pushed the police. They could hear it in Sousuke's voice. He knew something. "We know you know about the children and the deaths. We know it was Chiro who did it. He programmed something in the game."

"What are you implying?" asked Sousuke. It sounded like he was trying to maintain his voice.

"We're implying that since your his partner, if you're hiding something from us then you could just as much be responsible for those children's deaths as Chiro is himself!"

"You can't prove anything!" Sousuke shouted.

"Tell us what Chiro did to the game!" they shouted back.

"WHAT I TOLD HIM TO."

Silence. Complete silence.

"You want to know, huh?" asked Sousuke finally, breaking the eerie silence, but replacing it with his voice. "You want to know what is this all about? Chiro was an idiot. He'd do anything for a bit of attention, anything at all. He couldn't program worth a shit either. The one thing he could do, however, was be manipulated. You could tell him what to do, and he'd do it. He wouldn't even question it, he'd do it. Just to hear that 'thank you' when you received the finish product, that was his reasons. That's all he wanted."

Two clicks from the detective's guns could heard.

"I could control his flawlessly. He's a lot like Takenori... Of course none of you knew this, but I was the one who brought up the idea of the game, the idea of the entire operation. I just told the fellow what to do, and he followed me without doubt. He knows nothing, just like Chiro."

A sound of a window opening could be heard, follow by the detectives.

"Don't move or we'll shoot!"

"Let me tell you about a mechanic in the game," continued Sousuke. His voice was more rushed, but it still held that slyness. "Consider it a hint, alright? If you walk around in grassy areas enough a Pokemon will appear, and you'll have the chance to go into battle with it. It's a necessary part of the game overall, you see?"

"Step away from the window! We won't warn you again!"

"At the start of the game you have to walk into the grassy area before Oak appears and you receive your first Pokemon, understand me? Under normal circumstances, it was programmed that even though you're in a grassy area, no Pokemon will spawn... I made it different. I manipulated that Chiro, told him what to put in the program, gave him all the instructions on how to do it, and he did it flawlessly. It's rare, but it can happen.. Stepping into that grass, one can spawn..."

"Sousuke, we don't want to shoot!"

"Shoot me?" asked Souske, laughing at the same time. "Shoot ME? You're as dumb as Chiro was! Once he found out the truth, he had to end it! It was his fault after all! He shot himself because of it! If you're so determined to finish that case of yours, if you want to know, play the damn game for yourself! Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you'll learn the secret for yourself!"

A shot could be heard, loud enough to distort the audio. Sounds of screaming, murmuring could be heard. The table the recorder was on crashed. Ear shattering distortions. Silence. Then laughing. Sousuke was laughing, and then words. "Come follow me... Come follow me..." And then nothing.

The recorder continued to record until the tape ran out. There was nothing else on it. The police arrived on the scene quickly, and to their horror they discovered Sousuke and the two detectives dead. They had all been shot, but not after struggling. The detectives had been shot multiple times, at least ten each, before dying after being shot in between their eyes. Sousuke himself had clearly died of two shots to his chest, straight through the heart.

This game was causing a massacre. At least a hundred children were dead. Nisino, the unexpecting friend, dead. Chiro, the manipulated toy, dead. The two detectives, dead. And now, even the creator, the cause of this atrocity, Sousuke, dead. This game was stretching far over it's original intentions. It was killing anyone and everyone who got involved.

The lead detective had decided to put this case away. The man who committed the crime was dead, so there was no longer any reason to continue the case. All evidence, all the cartridges, all the notes, all the letters, they were locked away, kept in the darkness where they belonged. There were talks about the entire thing, small conversations every now and then, but over the years even these began to fade away. Eventually, the case was only a memory in the minds of those who experienced it first hand.

Ten years passed. February 27, 2006 was the date. The lead detective, the man who locked away the original evidence ten years previous, was reminded of the awful event that occurred. Although he was no longer in the force, he still had access to files and was helped when he could. The reminder of the event caused him to look back, to open the sealed container that held all the evidence collected.

He read through the letters and the notes. He remembered the woman who had appeared to him on the street that one day and handed him that letter that lead to the change of the entire case. He wondered who she was, and where she had come from. Perhaps she was Chiro's mother... or maybe Sousuke's. It was far too late to pursue any of this. Far too late..

Sealing the container again, he saw a second one directly behind it. Pulling it out, he read the note on top of it. "Evidence #2104A" He opened it up, and looked inside. Filling the container were exactly 104 Pokemon Red and Green cartridges, each one in perfect condition, untouched since the day they had last checked them ten years ago.

He reached in and pulled one out, Pokemon Red. He hadn't seen one in a long time. He didn't know what he thought next, but he reached in his desk and pulled out an old Gameboy. He received it a long time ago, but it still worked. It was his son's, but he had died a few years ago. His wife was gone too. That was then though. Popping in the cartridge in the back of the Gameboy he turned on the system.

The title screen. Then the option to continue or start a new game. "Tanaka." That was the child's name, the one who played it first. He was probably dead, along with all the others. He pressed New Game, and started a new game. It was normal, average. He walked around, talked to his mother, went outside. He started walking towards the grass.

In his head, he could still hear Sousuke's words. Even though he was not there, even though he had never seen the man in his life, he could still see him, hear him. "Come follow me."

He was getting closer and closer, only a step or two away.

"Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you'll learn the secret for yourself!"

He entered the grass. The screen did nothing at first. Nothing at all. It just sat there, and so did the detective, completely frozen, as if time had stopped just for them. The screen went black. and then lit up again, the iconic green background with black text appearing.

The lead detectives weary eyes grew wide. He couldn't help but read out what was there in front of him.

"Come follow me, come follow me, come follow me. I miss you dad, I miss you my husband, I miss you so much."

Tears formed in his eyes, falling down his cheeks. Screens and screens of text appeared and he rapidly clicked the A button to continue it. It was his wife and his child. They were speaking to him, calling to him, crying with him. They wanted to see him, they loved him, he loved them.

"I love you too," muttered the man in a hoarse, scratching voice.

"Come follow me, become new again. We want to see you and hold you, and be with you forever and ever and ever and ever."

"AND EVER AND EVER..."

"Don't stay away. You can see us too.. We miss you.. Come follow me. We love yo--"

A black screen. The detectives eyes grew wide, his jaw dropping. The screen lit back up, and Oak was leading him out of the grass. "Come follow me," said Oak.

"NO!" shouted the man, dropping the game onto the floor. He quickly fell forward, reaching for it, bringing the screen back to his face. "Bring them back, bring them back to me!" The game continued on as usual, not responding to the detective at all. "My wife, my child, listen to me! Bring them back to me, I said!"

Voices... He heard voices, hundreds of voices. He turned around from his seat, looking behind him, and standing in his small room were children, many children. Some had no eyes, some had rings around their throats, some were burned all across their body. They were screaming, reaching towards him.

"Bring back my mommy, bring back my daddy, bring back my pet!" they all screamed out, reaching for the game, their mouths agape with horror and pain. "I don't want them to go away, bring them back to me, bring them back to me!"

"No!" shouted the detective. "It's mine! My family is here, don't touch it!" Horror was across his face.

"Come follow me..." said a voice. The lead detective looked over, and in the corner of his room, next to an old desk, was Sousuke. He stood in the corner, tall, handsome, clean. A smile was on his face, stretching across his face. "Come follow me..."

The lead detective jumped up, stepping back, trying to force away the children crawling towards him, reaching out for the game held tightly within his hands. "Wh-what's going on here!? What's going on!? Where is my family!?"

Sousuke smiled generously. "I'll show you. I'll help you get away from them, you see? Just follow me." Sousuke reached down, and opened a drawer on the old desk. The lead detective, pushing through the crowd of children, trying to get away, looked inside.

Siting there, covered with dust, was his old gun from when he was on the force. He had not used that gun in many years and had put it away, not wanting to remember the things he had to do with it. But right now he didn't see it as something that caused pain or that killed. It was shining, it was light. It was something that could set him free.

"Just follow me," said Sousuke, picking up the gun and putting it in the lead detectives hand. He formed his hand to hold the gun, then brought it up to his temple. "Just pull the trigger. That's all."

The lead detective turned around. The children were crawling at him, grabbing his legs and pulling at him. They reached for the game. He turned back towards Sousuke, and smiled.

"My family... I'll follow you." He pulled the trigger. Bang. His brains spread the wall as he fell to the ground, dead.

It was a few days before the body was discovered. It lay on the floor, blood everywhere. In one hand held an empty gun, and in the other was a classic Gameboy with Pokemon Red on the back. The battery had long died, and only an empty, black screen was left.

This was the final murder that the remaining authorities would allow. The last detective who was ever a part of this case personally carried all 104 cartridges away, and burned them all, making sure not a single one survived. There would taunt no more.

However, this is not the end of the story. The code was said to have survived, and was even passed on to other language versions of the games. If you have an old Pokemon game, you can place the cartridge in the back of the classic Gameboy, turn on the system, and roll the wheel who knows? Maybe you'll learn the secret for yourself.
Long read that one, But its good.

I will Edit more in.

The Fallout one was a bit creepy, but the Pokemon story ran on too long and was too unbelievable.

PS: Is there any truth to the Fallout 2 story?

Did shit pop out or ay pictures for the fallout one...i couldnt grow the cohones toactualy scroll down to the lastsection.

No, it's just a random story of some fun you can have in some cave after beating the game. The creepy part comes at the end apparently...

 

[VanityGirl]

Most of this isn't scary. XD

 

[David_G]

Here's one I made a while ago. Based on an actual experience.

Spoiler

Living Silence, by SODAssault

John pulled down the brim of his cap, as though it would help shield him from the torrential rain. Leaving his broken-down car behind him, he marched along the side of the road towards civilization. A darkness free from unnatural light seemed to make every noise around him louder and sharper as his hearing adjusted to compensate for his inability to see.

Cupping his cell phone under his hand to shield it from the rain, he pointed the screen downward so that he could see the road he would otherwise have had to navigate through painful stumbling. He would have waited in the car and called for a tow truck, but his phone had no service. Loose gravel crunched free from the edge of the seemingly ancient road under his feet.

Distant lightning strikes lit up the sky, but the tall trees on either side of the road only cast foreboding shadows in the flashes of light.

"Fucking Jeeps," John muttered loudly so he could hear himself over the roaring downpour, "they promise you can drive up a sheer cliff, but the second the timing belt comes loose, the engine tears itself to pieces." Only a quarter of a mile from his stranded vehicle, he felt no real sense of progress, only a feeling of walking farther into a void that led to nowhere.

He stole a glance at the screen of his phone. Still no service. "This is just fucking great," he thought aloud in a monotone. His hand holding the phone started shaking as the screen grew brighter. John stood puzzled for a solid five seconds before he realized he was receiving a call with his phone set on silent.

Hunching over awkwardly to shield the phone with his head, he held it up to his ear. "Hello?" Without warning, a deafening, prolonged blast of static issued from the earpiece, causing John to recoil. He held it away from his head and shouted "Hello? Anybody there?!"

The call ended, leaving no number to identify it by. Suddenly, the rain stopped, as though someone had thrown a switch. It didn't die down, it just... stopped. Aside from the sound of rain droplets still falling off of the trees, all John could hear was the sound of his own shallow breathing, and then wet scraping sound of his feet shuffling over the concrete. He stood still, instinctively aware that something was wrong.

A rational man to his core, John did everything he could to shake off the deep, foreboding sense of being watched by a predatory beast. Aside from the light from his phone, the smell of wet soil... was it soil? No. Something more toxic. He inhaled deeply through his nose and was immediately hit with a blast of nausea. It wasn't an offensive odor, but somewhere, deep in the most primitive part of his mind, an enormous red flag went up. He was sensing something worse than the smell of a thousand rotting carcasses, although to his subconscious, they represented the same thing: the coming of death.

John quickened his pace, walking briskly, but not running, so as to avoid galvanizing whatever was watching him into attacking. He felt sick, as though he'd just ran ten miles with a severe case of the flu. His head shifted between sensations of being weightless and being full of iron as his desire to flee tried to win out over the influence of something far worse.

Focusing on the ground, he realized he could see his own shadow... a light was shining on him from behind! He spun around, saw a pair of headlights cresting the hill he'd just walked down from. He stood in place, feeling relief wash over him. "Thank fuck," he said, and sat down. The drive can't have seen him yet, but would quickly have an impossible time missing him. As it got closer, John could see that it was an older van, painted the color of rust... or perhaps it was completely rusted over, John couldn't be sure.

As it neared, the pressure in his head turned to a splitting headache, but he was too gratified by the sight of it to care. Sitting on the side of the road, he watched as the van decelerated and lurched to a grinding halt next to him. For a solid minute, nothing happened. He couldn't see inside the fogged-up windows, and he couldn't sense any shift in the suspension. It was completely still. Curious, he mustered all of his strength, stood up, and rapped softly on the window. It shattered completely, and he saw that there was nobody in either the driver or passenger seats. John frowned, and cleared his throat.

"Hello in there? Anybody...?" he said with a rasping voice, inhaling sharply to regain his breath. He lurched to the rear of the van, and grasped the handle of the windowless, sliding door. Unlatching the door and shoving it open, he looked inside when A SKELETON POPPED OUT AND ATE HIS FACE! AND THEN JOHN DIED! I KNOW THIS BECAUSE I AM JOHN'S GHOST! BOO!

You know, I have this habbit of reading the endings of stories first. I'm glad I have it now.

I also have this habit, maybe because the stories that have scared me the most are ones which get creepy only after you read them.

 

[David_G]

The last man on Earth came home one night. He turned the lights off, got into bed, then remembered he had left the TV on.
He reached for a match, and a match was put into his hand.

--

What is it that wakes us up? Is it our mind simply sending a jolt of messages to our body? Is it something we get use to? The truth is, the only thing that can wake us from our deep sleep is a sound. A feeling. A breeze. Whether it is a bird chirping outside, or the call of an alarm. Or a door opening or a swift motion of air. Humans can not wake up on their own.

What happens if that feeling to alert us never comes? The first weeks pass, your skin begins to crisp away. By a month your body has rotted from the inside out. By a year, you are nothing but a few bones.

So just remember this when you next go to sleep.

I hear the winds will be still tonight.

--

It's 3 AM on Halloween night and you and your friends been up all night on a horror binge. You've watched your favorite scary movies, read your favorite scary stories, and even attempted the old "Bloody Mary" trick in your mirror. After your friends leave, you stretch and yawn, deciding now is about the time to hit the hay, so you move into your bedroom and lay down to sleep.
After awhile, however, you realize that you can?t get the images of some of the fictional creatures you saw on your television out of your head. "Meh...I?m going to hate myself for this tomorrow," you say aloud as you flick on your bedroom lamp, knowing that having a nightlight used to help get rid of your nightmares as a little kid. Within minutes you're close to sleep, snuggled up comfortably under the blankets with your eyes closed and more pleasant thoughts on your mind...
...that is, until you detect something moving in front of the light, casting a shadow over you. You blink, beginning to turn towards the lamp before a rotting hand grabs hold of your shoulder. "Thanks for turning on the light, I was having trouble finding you in the dark."

--
I read some others on /x/, but I can't find them now, so I'll post them when I find them.

 

[ShrooM_DoughKiD]

Go to ED and search creepy pasta.

Spoiler

Thanks.. you actually woke me up.. and made me turn my light on.

 

[David_G]

You feel an itch in your throat.
You try to cough it out, but it just won't come.
You struggle with forcing yourself to vomit. You drink lots of water, but whatever it is, its just stuck there.
You reach for the carton of milk in the fridge and sneeze as you raise it up. Something hits the floor with a rattle. You look at the floor and see a small button with a flowery design on it.
Then you look up. On the milk carton, you notice a missing kid. Her blouse shows the same buttons.

--

I was through hiking the Appalachian Trail last year, when I got lost and found myself off the trail, in a strange, dark hollow with heavy moss and one running stream. It was getting dark, and starting to rain. I found a cave just above the creekbed, and there were no bear-tracks, so I went in for shelter.
Sometime in the night, a bear did come, right into the cave, and I had no way out! Keeping my head, I crawled deeper into the cave and found a passage too small for the bear to fit. It led to a long crawlway ending in a little alcove.
I had no light, and was terrified. But the sound of the bear in the bigger room faded away. This new room was cozy, with what felt like mounds of soft moss and crackly leaves all over the floor. A breeze blew through, and the leaves, though I couldn?t see them, seemed to move all over, they tickled me all night long, making it hard to sleep.
The next morning I crept back out to see if the bear was gone - he was. So I exited back into the hollow. I had a terrible rash all over my body from the itchy bedding I had slept on, and couldn?t stop scratching as I gathered my stuff and went down the creek looking for a road and some directions back to the trail.
I found another trail along the creek, and in a few hours, it ended at a dirt road. There I rested, trying to decide which way to walk for help. My skin was bleeding in spots now, and pustules were forming at the itchiest places. I thought I might need some cream or something.
A game warden Jeep came around the bend, and when the Warden saw me sitting at the trailhead, he stopped.
"You planning on going up there?" he asked, gesturing up the trail I had come down.
"No, actually -- " I began, but the itching on my skin made me stop short to scratch.
"I wouldn't if I were you, especially that cave."
"Why?" I asked.
"They call it Spiders-Nest Cave."

--

In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the adress on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed.

She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She went to the police, who raided the address on the envelope, where they found heaps of human flesh for sale.

And what was in the envelope? "This is the last one I am sending to you today."