#artifacts

We all knew Spirit Halloween, a store that is filled to the brim with the most messed up animatronics out there, ranging from screaming clowns, decayed zombies, demonically possessed children, and other stuff. Every year, they always push the limits with the level of gore and blood. But what if I told you that there was an animatronic that never made it to the shelves? Well, you’re in for a treat, so keep on reading.

One school day, a boy named Tom was sitting in class and doing math. It was six more minutes until school let out. As he was doing his homework, something caught his eye. His desk was next to the window, and he turned and looked to the grass outside. It looked like a picture. When school was over, he ran to the spot where he saw it. He ran fast so that no one else could grab it.

Cry Baby Lane (or JosephTheSnail’s Cry Baby Lane, as titled on Spiral Nightmares) is a thriller creepypasta that retells the 2011 creepypasta of the same name while correcting many of its flaws, most notably the defamation of the real-life director Peter Lauer by replacing his role with an unhinged character who gradually proves to be even more deranged than initially believed, alongside the disturbing, never-before-mentioned-until-now “actual” (not really) history of a goofy Nickelodeon horror…

Eight years ago, during the week before Halloween, some friends and I decided to tell spooky stories around the campfire. We had always wanted to make a fire outside and hang out at night, but we were too young to go by ourselves, especially after midnight. That year things were different. ‘We were no longer children,’ we thought, so we somehow convinced our parents to let us stay out late (we didn’t tell them about the fire, obviously).

I'm sure we've all heard of Disney, right? That adorable Mouse and all the other lovable characters. Well, when I was a child my favorite was Pinocchio. He had always appealed to me. The simple fact of him wanting to be a boy was charming and yet strangely unsettling. I mean, what would he do to become a boy? I also found his growing nose amusing. Apologies, my name is Brian, and I used to live in a little town in Oklahoma that was know as, Vieille Ville, which is French for 'Old Town'.

For my niece's sixth birthday I bought her a Barbie doll. She loved dolls and stuffed animals, and loved playing pretend with them even more. Whenever I stopped by my sister's house I could always hear my niece playing with her toys, speaking to them as if she was having a wonderful conversation and would sometimes make her dolls talk back.

The picture you’re staring at was taken sometime in the 70’s. It’s the only remaining image I have left of my son, and the artificial being known as "ANTRAN", whom we adopted into our family at the time.

Mystery of the Courtyard is a horror and emotional fanfiction by Joseph Arrington (JosephTheSnail), inspired by the Super Mario 64 urban legend “L is Real 2401.” During Bowser’s attack on Peach’s Castle, Luigi is trapped within the courtyard fountain and left behind as Mario continues his journey to save the princess. Presumed missing for decades, Luigi survives in silence until his body finally gives out, binding his spirit to the fountain itself.

During the summer of 1983, in a quiet town near Minneapolis, Minnesota, the charred body of a woman was found inside the kitchen stove of a small farmhouse. A video camera was also found in the kitchen, standing on a tripod and pointing at the oven. No tape was found inside the camera at the time. Although the scene was originally labeled as a homicide by police, an unmarked VHS tape was later discovered at the bottom of the farm’s well (which had apparently dried up earlier that year).

Pentimento I spent two years working on a single sentence.

“That’s my childhood house.” I wasn’t turning down the street I grew up in. I wasn’t standing near the large oak in the front yard of the house where I’d lost all my baby teeth. I wasn’t sitting inside the kitchen, where, on my fifteenth birthday, I accidentally dropped the cake my mom had baked, which made my family laugh so hard that we shed tears. No. I was holding an oil painting at a Goodwill on the other side of the country. “That can’t be possible,” my husband said.

I still have the book.  And, reluctant as I am to share it with anybody, I can see no other way. Very well, then. This is how it begins: The Knights are lined up all the way down the hall To be blessed by the Queen and the King, With their shields and their sigils and armor and guns And their magical-gagical rings! - They’ve come from afar and they’ve come from a-near To kneel down and mount up and fight, They’re strong and they’re tall and they’re brave one and all –

WELL! Turns out he was right, and now “Tilna McGleek” Means “to ever-so-quickly go nuts” – But I’m sure that you’ll find only things that you seek When you stride forth as Grayven McFutz!

Everyone in my family has one thing in common. We all love dogs. They're just so enjoyable, loyal, and all around pleasant to be around. My five-year old son is no different. From the time he could talk, he's been constantly asking for a puppy of his very own. I of course, being a fellow dog lover would have been happy to oblige, but there is one tiny problem. We live in a suburban apartment complex; it's cozy, but unfortunately, as is often the case with rental property, we aren't allowed to…

A hard copy of the following document was discovered in a disused office suite on the outskirts of Manchester, New Hampshire. Extensive research has so far failed to turn up any information about the former tenants or the provenance of the “report”.  The investigation continues. – A. A. EXECUTIVE SUMMARY This after-action report recommends the complete and immediate abandonment of high-value target SODA BOTTLE despite the costs to be incurred by the Organization as a result. BACKGROUND

There were too many doors in the upstairs hall. Sarah told her parents, but they couldn't see it. They told her not to worry. They told her there was nothing there. But there was an extra door, at the end of the upstairs hall. An extra yellow door, and it didn't belong.

It was perhaps my eighth birthday when it all started. It’s hard to recall from this far in the future. My grandfather, a gentle old man, bought me a doll to play with and together we sat around a small cake with only four candles upon the top. They weren’t the fancy candles that you see on all the cakes now a days. We didn’t have the money for such fanciful things when I was a kid. No, they were just small nubs of candles that were nearing the end of their usefulness.

I found an old Polaroid camera at a yard sale. It was even still loaded with film. Excited, I just took a picture of myself in the living room. However, when the photo was developed, there was a shadowy figure standing behind me, its hollow eyes staring straight into the camera lens. I was home alone.

“I have good news and bad news,” my boss Chester said. If there is a more butthole clenching phrase said at a struggling company during a sudden all hands meeting, I don’t know what it is. Thing was, Chester didn’t need to say a single syllable. His slouched shoulders, pale(er) face, and hangdog expression told us the entire story. The company was going under.

While honeymooning in Maine, my wife and I stopped in the picturesque town of Boothbay on a particularly dreary and rainy day. Since our planned picnic was out of the question, we sought shelter in a dilapidated little antique store near the harbour. While my wife inspected the large chests and side tables near the door, I eagerly examined the antique tools and seafaring equipment inside the glass sales counter at the back. Being a collector of optics and mariner’s instruments, I hoped to find…