#reality

In 1998 I got a new teaching job in a new town. To save money I moved into a small house that was for rent. My roommate, Claire, was nice enough and the two of us got along easily. I moved in and found my room. While unpacking I came across an old framed photograph. Three men dressed as hospital orderlies were sitting together in the living room of the house. These three men had once lived in the house I was now renting with Claire. I didn't want to throw away the photograph, it didn't…

Grandpa was 97 years old when he passed away. He lived far from where his three children had settled. Grandma died when I was a small child, and he ended up remarrying another woman a few years later who demanded that he move out west so that she could be nearer to her sons. She was a piece of work, was Grandma Hester. We all wondered how Grandpa could stand her. It turns out that perhaps he could not.

I must have been six or seven when I lived in Lebanon. The country was ravaged by war at the time, and murders were common and frequent. I remember during a particularly vicious era, when the bombings rarely stopped, I would stay at home sitting in front of my television watching a very, very strange show.

Annabelle was the focus of a case that famed paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren took part in during the early 1970s, and is highlighted in the book The Demonologist. It has been stated that this is one of the most unusual cases of a possessed object on record.

I’m Nina Rodriguez, i’m a police officer, have been for a good seven years. In my time in the force I have seen some pretty… pretty fucked up shit to say the least: crazed druggies, abusive parents, and even a few calls for help from the suicides. But, none of those could ever hope to compare to an emergency call I’d taken last month.

In rural southern Illinois a toy company began selling “realistic” baby dolls to expectant mothers. But apparently after the mother had her child the toy baby would start crying. Eventually the “rocking motion” advertised to calm it down wouldn’t work, and you couldn’t get it to stop without shaking it.

After moving to a small town in southern Michigan I got a job as a cashier in the local store. After work I would walk home to my small house and order a small pizza. This was my routine for two weeks when things took a strange turn. I called in my usual order to the pizzeria when a new voice, one I hadn't heard before answer the phone and told me "The usual? No problem. I'll deliver it in less than five minutes."

In the winter of 1944, with overtaxed supply lines in the Ardennes, a medic in the German army had completely run out of plasma, bandages and antiseptic. During one particularly bad round of mortar fire, his encampment was a bloodbath. Those who survived claimed to have heard, above the screams and barked commands of their lieutenant, someone cackling with almost girlish glee.

My eyes are in a ferverous affair with the clock, and my focus is none the wiser. The police dispatcher is pleading for me to humor her inquiries, if for no reason other than to keep my consciousness afloat. It is so late, and today has been so challenging. Nevertheless, I’ll gratify her with my story, because I am really in no mood to tell it again later.

I was so excited. I hadn't ever really gone camping before, so the fact that one of my friends asked me to go with him was amazing in and of itself. He made plans for five other guys to join us as well. The plan was to leave right after classes on Friday evening and drive up to an old abandoned farmhouse, which, in Kansas, aren't too uncommon. This one was special, though, or so I was told by Riley, my friend that had invited me. He said not only was the house quite large and well held…

This used to happen to me quite often when I was younger, but lately I have had “different” experiences. To start with, I would like to say that this is all true. Everything I write here is fact, and you don’t have to believe me.

Don’t dismiss this outright as the work of some raving lunatic. There’s some sense to this story, if you’ll just hear me out… Look, we all wonder if time travel is possible, right? Well let me tell you something… it is. I’m from the future, actually. I know you probably don’t believe that, but seriously, I’m from the future. It’s a really great thing; getting to see the past, watching events unfold.. stuff like that. We know more now than we ever would.

Have you ever forgotten your phone? When did you realise you’d forgotten it? I’m guessing you didn’t just smack your forehead and exclaim ‘damn’ apropos of nothing. The realisation probably didn’t dawn on you spontaneously. More likely, you reached for your phone, pawing open your pocket or handbag, and were momentarily confused by it not being there. Then you did a mental restep of the morning’s events. Shit.

Being a devout fan of Creepypasta’s true story section, I felt compelled to share my story with other users. While it is nice to provide all of you with a chilling, and entertaining story, keep in mind I have a much greater goal in mind.

Thursday morning. I awoke to the sounds of a siren blaring down the road. Great, another accident. The traffic was the last thing I wanted in the morning while going to work. Still, I had another hour before heading off, so I started my morning routine of taking a shower and brushing my teeth before heading downstairs for breakfast where I saw my son, Michael, eating cereal before breakfast. I grabbed a bagel and sat down on the couch, grabbing my iPad to read the news.

I live in South London in a third floor flat in a five story building, two floors above, two floors below. Being that I live in London I’m used to seeing people act drunk, crazy or violent; Especially at night when the nutters come out. But what I experienced two nights ago shook me to this very moment, so I feel I have to write it down in case my situation becomes more weird than it already is. Why did he choose my door!?

Everybody knows that if you surf the web long enough, you'll see some pretty sick shit. This is especially true if you intentionally dwell into the dark underbelly of the internet. I've seen quite a few things I don't care to admit to, but one thing that I'll always remember is a site called "normalpornfornormalpeople.com". The first strange thing about the site was that I didn't find it by actually looking for it. It was e-mailed to me by someone I didn't know. The e-mail was as follows:

It’s hard to imagine what it is like to be kidnapped. I've tried, often, probably every day for the last four years. Imaging the unlimited scenarios, anything from the kidnapper’s first contact to the actual abduction and the subsequent transport, has plagued me for many sleepless nights. It is hard not to focus on the betrayal he must have felt trusting that stranger. The absolute fear and possible pain he felt while maybe getting dragged away into some van or truck. Thinking of how they may…

I hate my life. I just made some new friends at this stupid school, and now I have to move again because of my father’s stupid new job. We're moving to the other side of the country. I just wish we could stay in a town for more than a few months, but no. Every job just gets better and better, so we have to move. I’d been doing some research on the new town we were moving into. I’ll just say that there are some pretty messed up headlines for this place. Most of them about kids going insane, some…

I was always afraid of the lunch lady when I was a kid.  I don't know why; maybe it was the toxic stench of her breath, or the dead look in her eyes, or the unkempt hairs dangling off her chin.  No matter what the reason was, my palms grew sweaty and my heart pounded every time I passed her in the lunch line.  I never felt quite at ease until I had left the cafeteria, and even then I still was worried I would catch sight of her in the hallway between classes.