nosleep

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Technical-Gas-8749 on 2024-09-15 04:10:39+00:00.

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So let me quickly explain before I get into the events that changed my life forever.

I am a male who just recently turned 21 years old and last week a day after my birthday I saw an ad online for a night shift security guard position at my towns oldest train station. I always hated the night shift position at any job because you always got the weirdos and drug addicts that always seemed to want to hang out and cause trouble or destroy property that you were left to clean up at the end of the night. Unfortunately, I needed this job really bad as having a kid and one on the way tends to get very expensive.

Alright now that you got the backstory of how I ended up in this mess let's get on to the actual life altering events that changed me as a person and how I ended up seeing the world a bit more differently today.

As I walked down the dark wet stairs that led into the even more dark subway below, I came out onto a slightly lit up platform with an office sitting at the end of it. I proceeded over to the office door and let 3 consistent but hard knocks fall onto the door. An older man with grey rough looking hair that fell down in front of his face peered out the office window and seemed to be sizing me up before answering the door and asking in a raspy voice "can I help you?" I looked at the man for a second taking his appearance in before replying "Uh yes hi I am here for a job interview" The man cleared his throat before replying "Come on in have a seat my name is Ralph you must be Jack" I looked at the man for a second wondering if I was the only one who applied for such a great job I mean it was offering 22 bucks an hour who would pass that up. "Yep" I replied now letting my body slouch into the office chair.

He looked over some papers that were neatly stacked on the tiny desk in front of him "Can you start tonight?" he replied looking up at me still letting his hair fall in front of his face. I looked back at the man with an angry expression on my face as this after all was a last-minute thing to say to someone who just came in for the interview, "Uh yeah I guess that will work" I said back letting a slightly annoyed tone leave my mouth.

"Welcome aboard" he said now standing up from his chair extending his hand to me in hopes I would shake it. I took his hand and shook it all the while forcing a smile as I was still slightly annoyed that I had no time to even prepare. Ralph gave me the quickest tour I had probably ever had at a job, we returned to the office where he blurted out "Oh yes I almost forgot here make sure you read this and uh good luck" he set an employee manual down in front of me titled *Security manual for the second shift* and left the office leaving me alone in my thoughts.

Good luck? who wishes someone good luck I thought to myself as I flipped through the manual filled with what to do and what not to do in case of a dangerous traveler or a shooting/bomb threat when I came across something that really made me stop and pay attention to what I was reading. *Rules for the night shift* in big bold lettering now sat across the manual's old pages.

I began to read carefully as the last thing I wanted to do was break a company rule on my first night that is the last thing that I would want to happen to me.

*Greetings new hire, I hope you have had the time to get settled in and familiar with your office, as you will be there for most of your shift. Now each night there may be some minor inconveniences that may hinder your job here at Redacted Train Company but just follow the guidelines below and I am sure it will be no problem to you at all. *

1. At exactly 12:05 AM you will hear an announcement that train 102 which is the last train for the night has arrived on track 7, pay attention to your cameras if the train is on any other track but 7, we want you to get up grab the gun in the desk drawer below you and shoot every passenger that gets off that train and return calmy to your office don't worry they are not real people.
2. Every 2 hours after midnight you are required to do a sweep of the platform to ensure nobody has snuck in to the station, if you see a homeless man sleeping against the wall by track 2 simply wake him up and tell him it's time to go he will not hurt you and will leave when asked if it is anyone but him return to your office as fast as you can and do not make eye contact we cannot stop what will happen to you if you look for too long.
3. At any point between the times of 2 AM and 3:30 AM you have to go to the rest room please use the one closest to the exit of the station, if for whatever reason you use the one closest to your office between those times and you see you're not alone in the rest room simply turn around walk to the exit punch in the code for the time lock door and leave the station once outside call your manager and he will know what to do.
4. At 4 AM you may see a man approach the guard window asking for help simply close the window and get under the desk ignore him until he is gone, and you will be ok trust me you do not want to help this creature.
5. At 6:55 AM you may see a guy in a guard's uniform approach your office window claiming to be your relief grab the pistol in the desk and empty the chamber until the thing drops it is not your relief.

Please note that your shift ends at 7 AM on the dot that is when the day guard will appear no earlier!!!! refer to rule 5 for help.

I looked back over the rules 500 more times before it started to make any sense in my head, I get it I thought to myself there just trying to pull a prank on the new guy real funny guys. I glanced over to the clock which was to the left of where I was sitting 12:05 AM I nearly jumped out of my seat when a voice crackled to life over the intercom above me.

*Train 102 now arriving on track 7 all passengers please deboard next stop Willows Station end of the line* a shiver ran down my spine as I heard the voice slowly fade to nothing on that old intercom above my head. I slowly turned to face the camera monitors that sat adjacent to me on the right-hand side of my desk, there on track 7 was an old steam passenger train deboarding it's passengers onto the old rickety platform. I sighed a breath of relief as I re visited rule 1 and realized I would not have to kill anyone tonight the train was on the right track maybe this really was just a joke on the new guy after all.

The night proceeded on and 2 AM came and went with no incident on the patrol of the station's platform. I quickly found myself falling asleep however when an uneasy urge of needing to go to the bathroom fell over me. I shot up quick from the desk feeling like I was about to soil myself and shot a quick glance towards the clock 3:25 AM I sighed and opened the door to my office and proceeded to tug on the bathroom door that was adjacent to my office just as I placed my hand on the handle to pull the door open rule 3 hit me like a truck going 80 in a 40.

At any point between the times of 2 AM and 3:30 AM you have to go to the rest room please use the one closest to the exit of the station, if for whatever reason you use the one closest to your office between those times and you see you're not alone in the rest room simply turn around walk to the exit punch in the code for the time lock door and leave the station once outside call your manager and he will know what to do.

The words playing in my head as I stood outside the bathroom door. "shit" I yelled out loud as I turned around quickly to go to the opposite side of the station. Just then as I turned around a loud noise that sounded like a bottle breaking filled the train station.

I turned back to look at the bathroom adjacent to my office and almost fell backwards to the cold hard ground there laying against the wall was a man who seemed to be sleeping but was not breathing. "Sir?" I said holding my flashlight on him the guy was dressed in a clean blue suit with black loafers on his feet. "You can't" I stopped dead in my tracks when rule 2 hit me right in the face.

*Every 2 hours after midnight you are required to do a sweep of the platform to ensure nobody has snuck in to the station, if you see a homeless man sleeping against the wall by track 2 simply wake him up and tell him it's time to go he will not hurt you and will leave when asked if it is anyone but him return to your office as fast as you can and do not make eye contact we cannot stop what will happen to you if you look for too long.*

I turned away as fast as I could as sharp teeth began to appear in the things mouth, I continued back into the office as fast as I could slamming the door shut behind me and locking it. I continued to watch from the monitors as the thing just got up from the cold hard floor and vanished out of sight. What the hell is going on I thought to myself as I let my back slide down the steel office door.

I quickly shot a look up at the clock that hanged over my desk 4 AM it was time for my second security check of the station's platform, but I'd be dammed if I was going back out there not knowing if that man or thing was still out there waiting for me wanting to possibly eat me.

"Help me, is anyone there, I need help" a man's voice snapped me back into reality as I heard the whining calls for help. I turned and looked towards the security window only to be greeted with nobody. "Help me hello is there anyone there anyone ...

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Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1fh42cg/i_started_working_the_night_shift_for_my_towns/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Sudden-Zombie9098 on 2024-09-15 01:16:59+00:00.

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It was a bitterly cold night in 2018 when I moved into an old, weathered house deep in the countryside. The kind of house where the nearest neighbor was miles away and the nights were so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat. This place had a reputation in the nearby village—people whispered that it was haunted, but I dismissed it as just another old wives’ tale meant to scare off city folk like me.

The first few nights passed uneventfully. The house was drafty, the floors creaked with every step, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. That was until the fifth night, when everything changed.

I was settled in the living room, reading by the dim light of a single lamp. The wind howled outside, rattling the windows, but I paid it no mind, absorbed in my book. Suddenly, a faint scratching noise broke the silence, coming from the ceiling above me. I paused, listening intently, but the sound ceased as abruptly as it had begun. I chalked it up to a rat or some other small creature, though unease began to creep in. But then, the scratching returned, louder this time, as if nails were being dragged across wood.

I stood up, my heart beginning to race. The scratching moved, traveling from the ceiling to the walls, circling the room. It was as if something was trapped behind the wallpaper, desperately trying to break free. Panic set in, but I fought to stay calm. I grabbed a broom and banged it against the wall, shouting, “Get out! Get out of here!”

The noise stopped, and the house fell into an oppressive silence. I took a deep breath, convinced it was over, but then the lights flickered, and the temperature in the room plummeted. I could see my breath in the air, forming a mist. The rancid odor that followed was unbearable—like rotting meat.

The stench was overwhelming, making me gag. I covered my nose, but the smell seemed to seep into my skin, clinging to me. I stumbled back, my eyes watering, and that’s when I saw it.

In the darkest corner of the room, something was moving. At first, it was just a shape—a dark mass growing, stretching toward me. As it came closer, I saw it was a figure—tall and twisted, with long, gnarled limbs and eyes that glowed like embers in the dark.

It moved with unnatural speed, closing the distance between us in seconds. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I was paralyzed with fear, unable to move as it reached out with one bony hand, its fingers ending in sharp, black claws.

The creature’s face was inches from mine now, its breath hot and putrid against my skin. It grinned, revealing rows of jagged teeth, and whispered in a voice that was both a hiss and a growl, “You shouldn’t have come here.”

The room spun, and I felt myself being pulled into the darkness, into the creature’s cold, unrelenting embrace. I fought to stay conscious, but it was like being drowned in ink—suffocating and cold. The last thing I remember before everything went black was the sound of my own heartbeat, pounding in my ears.

When I woke up the next morning, I was on the floor, the room filled with sunlight. The creature was gone, but the smell lingered faintly. My body ached, and when I looked in the mirror, I saw deep, red scratches down my arms and neck, as though I had been clawed by something.

I couldn’t stay in that house another night. I packed my things and left, not caring where I went as long as it was far from that place. I never discovered what that creature was or why it targeted me, but I know one thing for certain—I’ll never forget those glowing eyes or the pure, unrelenting terror that accompanied them.

To this day, I still feel like something is watching me, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike again. And I’m terrified that next time, I might not be able to escape.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/BlairDaniels on 2024-09-14 23:26:56+00:00.

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I saw the job listing two weeks ago.

WANTED: NIGHT GUARD AT WESS MARKET IN [REDACTED], PA. 12AM-6AM SHIFT. $21/HOUR. The whole thing struck me as odd, right off the bat. What kind of grocery store needed a security guard while it was closed? Was the crime really that bad?

But I needed the money. Badly. And two days later, after a phone interview with a man named Clive, I showed up for my first shift.

As soon as I pulled up, I sort of understood why they needed a night guard. The grocery store sat at the edge of a run-down strip mall. Large signs reading SPACE FOR RENT hung in the store windows, but judging by the dusty glass and flickering streetlamps, no one had taken them up on the offer in years.

I parked near the front door. And as I approached the building, I saw a woman hurrying away from the store.

“You must be Aaron,” she said breathlessly. “The night guard?”

“That’s me.”

“Clive left you some instructions. I put them on the conveyor belt at register 1.” She gave me a polite nod and then stepped around me, heading for the only other car in the parking lot.

“Oh, thanks.” Be friendly, my inner voice scolded. She’s your new coworker! I turned around. “Hey, what’s your name?”

But she was already diving into the car. The door slammed, the car reeled out of the parking space, and then she was gone.

So much for a new friend.

I turned back towards the store.

The parking lot was completely empty now, and the nearest streetlight was flickering with an odd, erratic rhythm. A cold wind swept in, whipping a crumpled paper bag across the parking lot.

Well, here goes nothing.

I stepped up to the store. The glass doors squeaked as they parted for me, and then I stepped inside.

Despite its outward appearance, the store was actually pretty nice inside. Bright fluorescent lights shone from overhead. Jazzy music played from hidden speakers. I headed over to register 1, where a folded piece of paper was waiting for me.

I flipped it open and began to read.

Dear Aaron,

Welcome to the Wess family! We sincerely hope you enjoy your first shift. To help you, we’ve compiled a list of rules that should make your shift as easy as our fresh-baked apple pie.

1.     As night guard, you are expected to patrol the store every half hour, making sure nothing is amiss. You may spend the rest of your time in the break room, at the back of the store, monitoring the security camera feeds.

2.     Do not go down aisle 7. Do not look down aisle 7.

3.     If you hear a knocking sound coming from within the freezers in the frozen food aisle, ignore it.

4.     If you see a shopping cart that hasn’t been put away, please return it to the shopping carts at the front of the store immediately.

5.     Do not be alarmed if you find a pool of blood in the meat aisle. Sometimes our meat packages leak. Simply head to the storage closet, get the mop and bucket, and clean it up. However, do not step in the puddle or touch it in any way.

6.     If you see a woman in the store, immediately go to the break room and stay there until she leaves. Do not call the police or report a break in. Do not make eye contact with her.

7.     The music we play throughout the store is a prerecorded disk of instrumental jazz. If the music ever stops, immediately go to the break room and stay there until it resumes.

8.     Do not, under any circumstances, end your shift early.

Thank you so much and again, I hope you enjoy your shift!

-       Clive

I stared at the rules, re-reading them slowly. They were so weird. A woman in the store? Avoid aisle 7? I’d never been given instructions like this, even when I worked as a bouncer at a nightclub in a bad part of town.

Maybe it was a test. They wanted to see how well I could follow instructions, no matter how absurd they were. I looked up at the security camera, staring down at me from the corner.

Okay. Challenge accepted.

I glanced at my phone. 12:06. Might as well get my first patrol out of the way now, before getting settled in.

It was odd walking through the store when it was so empty and quiet. All the breads and muffins had been stored away somewhere. White opaque plastic had been pulled down over the vegetable display, to keep the cold in. When I got to the end, I made a right into the meat section.

Sheets of plastic had been pulled over the meat coolers, too. I saw flashes of red through the gaps, of massive ribeye and sirloin steaks, big slabs of meat with the bone still intact. I averted my eyes—while I wasn’t a vegetarian, I never really liked the sight of raw meat. I turned instead to the aisles. Aisle 3: pasta and sauces, all lined up on the shelves, glinting in the fluorescent light. Aisle 4: cookies and snacks. Aisle 5, Aisle 6—

Oh right. I wasn’t supposed to look at Aisle 7.

I forced myself to look down at the floor. Yeah, it was stupid, but they told me not to look. In the off chance they were going to check the CCTV footage later to grade my performance, I was going to follow every rule.

I continued further into the store. A few minutes later, I found the break room; a nondescript brown door with a little square window cut into it. I took note of its location for later—as soon as I was done with this patrol, I was going to break out my laptop and finish watching Friday the 13th IV.

And then I was at the west end of the store—the frozen section. I turned down the aisle, heading back towards the front.

That’s when I saw it.

A shopping cart, parked askew in the middle of the aisle.

I huffed. Of all the rules, this was the one that annoyed me the most. I was hired to be a security guard—not a cleanup crew. Wasn’t it the employees’ job to put all the carts away at closing time?

Sighing, I began pushing it towards the front of the store.

The wheels rolled smoothly underneath me. The jazz music played softly in my ears. I turned the corner and walked past the cash registers, heading towards the front door.

That’s when I heard it.

A soft sound. Barely audible over the jazz music. I stopped, straining my ears to listen. Several seconds of silence went by; and then I heard it again.

It sounded like someone crying.

The hairs on my neck stood on end. There’s no one in here. The door’s been locked the whole time. Unless… unless a customer had accidentally stayed past closing time. Maybe that employee, the woman I’d run into in the parking lot, didn’t notice them. And locked up before they could get out.

“Who’s there?” I called out.

A wailing sob, in response.

My heart plummeted. It sounded like a woman, or possibly even a child. “I’m coming!” I called, breaking into a run. “Where are you?”

They didn’t reply—they just kept sobbing. I frantically continued in the direction of the sound, calling out to them, telling them everything would be okay.

But then I stopped dead.

The sound… it was coming from Aisle 7.

Do not go down aisle 7. Do not look down aisle 7. The rules had been very clear about that. I stopped just short of the aisle, next to an endcap display of mayonnaise, and carefully positioned myself so I was hidden.

“I’m going to help you,” I called out. “Can you tell me what happened?”

They finally spoke. But they didn’t answer my question. “H-help me,” the voice cried, through more sobs. “P-please.”

I wanted to step into the aisle. My foot was already halfway off the floor, ready to run in there and comfort them. But something stopped me. A gut instinct, a little alarm bell going off in my head. Because out of all the aisles… what were the chances this person would be in Aisle 7?

And besides, they were safe. They were in an empty store with me. It’s not like they were in a dark alleyway in the middle of the night.

“Come out of the aisle,” I called, my voice shaking a little. “Then I’ll be able to help you.”

“Please,” the voice replied. “Help me.”

This is stupid. Clearly some person got stuck in here after closing time, and they’re scared. Just go into the aisle and help them get home. But there was another part of my brain, the instinctual, lizard-brain part. And it was screaming at me to not move a muscle.

“Do you need me to call someone?” I tried. “Your parents or family? The police?”

“H-help me,” the voice pleaded again.

The help me. It sounded the same, each time they said it. A little stutter at the beginning. An emphasis on me. It almost sounded like a recording, or some AI-generated thing, looping over and over. It didn’t sound… natural.

“Come out of the aisle!” I shouted. “Come out, and I’ll help you!”

The sobs got louder, faster. Hysterical. “Help me!” the voice pleaded again, in a desperate tone that made my stomach twist.

I stood there, pressed against the mayonnaise display. Listening to them sob was making my stomach flip-flop—even if it did sound slightly unnatural. I could call the police, I thought. They’d know what to do.

Except I’d left my cell phone with my backpack at cash register 1. And getting it would mean crossing Aisle 7.

The rules didn’t say anything about walking past Aisle 7. They just said I shouldn’t go down it or look down it. And I couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. What if it really was someone who needed help? A child who’d sprained their ankle and couldn’t get up?

“Don’t worry. I’m getting my phone and calling the police,” I called out. Then I took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold of Aisle 7, towards r...

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/orangeplr on 2024-09-14 23:11:22+00:00.

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Hospitals, to me, feel like an extension of the afterlife. This is surely not an original thought. The long hallways, lined with shuddering fluorescent lights and medical carts, the somber staff and weeping families: it becomes a sort of limbo after a while. Not life, and not death. Even when you finally leave, your clothes still reek of suffering. 

Sitting in the waiting room, I felt like there was nothing outside of these walls. Nothing but an eternal black void. My phone buzzed loudly against an uncomfortable plastic chair, and I raised my hand to the receptionist, as if to apologize. I sent the caller to voicemail without even checking the contact. 

“Mr. Sharpe?” 

The doctor’s voice cut through the suffocating quiet of the wide hall, and I sat up, adjusting my shirt that had bunched up around my waist from slouching. 

“That’s me.” 

He was pushing a wheelchair, and I smiled when I saw my wife, sitting upright and smiling back - tired, but overall normal. I stood, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on top of her head. 

“Mr, Sharpe, your wife is doing just fine,” the doctor told me, looking between us. I sighed. 

“Thank god. I was sure it would be much worse…” 

“Well…” the doctor glanced around us at the nearly empty waiting room, as if he didn’t want to be overheard. “There’s something I’d like to speak with you about.” 

I frowned. “Yes…?” 

“It’s her eyes.” 

I took a step back, and got a better look at Dahlia. She was wearing her clothes from home, the ones I had brought her considering the ones she’d come in had been drenched in blood and green paint, and other than a bandage around her head, she looked normal. 

“Take a closer look,” the doctor said, as if he had read my mind. 

I leaned in closer, examining my wifes face. I gazed into her blue eyes, and my heart sank. 

Instead of only one pupil in each, there were two. They looked strange and almost wispy, and they appeared to bulge against the edge of her irises like they were stretching them out. I gasped. I didn’t know how I hadn’t noticed before; they made her look alien. 

“We need to do more tests,” the doctor muttered as I stared, mystified, into Dahlia’s eyes. “It must have been the blunt trauma from her fall that caused this. Normally, we would label this condition Polycoria, however-” 

“Normally?” I interrupted, my tone brisk. I felt a little unsteady on my feet. 

“However,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “That condition is very rare, and I haven’t seen it caused by trauma before. Usually one would be born with something like this, rather than it developing. We need to make several follow up appointments, but her vision seems fine, and besides that, she only needs to rest and get back to her life.” 

“Are you serious?” I looked around, at the patients and their families who were now staring. I lowered my voice into a hiss. “She looks like a… a monster. She can’t just be okay…” 

Dahlia took my hand. I took a deep breath, trying to self regulate. For her sake. 

“Honey,” she said softly, pressing my hand against her cheek. “I’m fine, I promise. I feel fine. And the doctors are very nice, they’re going to figure it out. Look at me…” 

I looked at her again, trying not to panic at her otherworldly appearance. 

“I’m fine,” she said again, giving me a gentle smile. 

I straightened up, getting ahold of myself. I chose to believe her. 

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled in the doctor’s direction. “I’m sorry, I’m just tense. This has all been… a lot.” 

“I completely understand. Both of you need some rest, I would say.” 

He couldn’t have been more right. My own eyes didn’t feel normal, like there were strings holding them open. I felt like I had been in this hospital for years, even though it had only been a few days. I couldn’t imagine how my wife felt. 

I helped her to the car - the doctors wouldn’t let her walk, not until she was off their property, even though she insisted she was able to. On the drive home we were quiet, but I took her hand, squeezing it occasionally. We were both a little in shock, I think. 

When we got home, we both stopped in the living room. I hadn’t been home long enough to clean, and the sight of the toppled ladder laying beside the pool of dried blood must have been a lot to process. She stared for a long moment, blinking her new eyes. 

“Is this the color we chose?” She asked finally. She bent over, picking up the dried up paint roller off the floor and taking a closer look. 

I stared at her, incredulous. I couldn’t believe that that, over everything else, was what she was thinking about right now. 

“Yes, honey,” I told her, wrapping my arm around her waist hesitantly, as if she might shatter like glass. “October mist. Remember?” 

“Huh,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Alright…” 

I guided her to our bed, and she pulled the heavy duvet over herself, letting out a breath like she’d been holding it for days. 

“Sorry about all this,” she whispered after a while, clearly only half awake. I chuckled. 

“Don’t be sorry, my love. I’m sorry.” 

She didn’t respond, falling asleep as quickly as she had fallen off of that ladder. 

When my wife finally woke up again, late into the afternoon the next day, I was long past done cleaning up the living room, and I was waiting with the kettle running and her bottle of pain medication. I poured her a mug of Earl Grey, and I stared at her as she blew on it, taking her usual seat at the kitchen table. 

Her eyes were no less jarring than they had been the day before. I felt like I couldn’t look at her, like every time those second pupils fixed on me something squirmed in my stomach, something deeply wrong. 

“How are you feeling?” I asked when she finally looked up at me, not wanting to make her feel insecure about her condition. 

“I feel good,” she told me, and she smiled. Somehow, she looked even happier now than she had before the accident. I bit my tongue, just barely able to stop myself from blurting out: why? 

“Really?” 

“Yes.” She sipped her tea. “I mean, my head hurts a little. But I feel good… I feel like I’ve woken up from a long dream.” 

Her words made me feel uneasy. I laughed nervously. “Well, you were asleep for a while…” 

She laughed too, and shook her head. “Not that kind of dream, Ben.” 

Dahlia almost seemed… giddy. Now that she wasn’t tired anymore, she was more lively than ever, and she kept looking around as if she were a child seeing the world for the first time. I only realized why when we stepped outside for our usual late-afternoon walk. I had wanted her to rest longer, but she insisted that she wanted to. 

Dahlia gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth. “It’s beautiful.” 

I followed her gaze to the orange and pink sunset, just beginning to creep up above the trees and houses of our neighborhood. It was pretty, sure, but nothing we hadn’t seen before. 

Her pupils, all four of them, widened, swelling into each other. I winced. 

“I know this sounds strange, but everything seems brighter,” she told me, practically skipping down our front steps. “All the colors are more vivid, I feel like my vision is even better than before… this must be incredibly rare, don’t you think?” 

I bit the inside of my cheek, trailing after her warily. “That’s great, honey… I’m so glad it’s not worse. You really could’ve lost your vision.” 

She didn’t seem like she was even listening. She led me like a stray dog down the street, pointing things out to me that I never would have noticed before. How the neighbor’s doorknob was a vastly clashing shade of yellow to their red door, the oil-slick shimmering on the feathers of the crows, all the spots where graffiti had been painted over again and again that seemed impossible to spot with the naked eye.

It gave me such a strange, sick feeling. I couldn’t name it. But my wife was so happy, so who was I to bring her down? 

I truly felt that way until a few days later. My wife shifted and yawned as she woke up, rolling to face me, and I could barely keep myself from screaming. 

Dahlia had three pupils in each eye now, like three black holes, shrunken from the light streaming through our bedroom windows. Her irises looked pinker than before, as if they were cracking from the pressure of holding them in, keeping them from spilling into the whites of her eyes. It was unnatural. 

I sped to the hospital, my wife protesting the entire way. I ignored her. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t normal, and something had to be done. 

I stayed with her as they checked her vitals and shone lights in her eyes. I had to look away as her pupils widened and contracted, just like regular eyes. It made me feel nauseous, or like I might faint. 

They tested her vision again. I watched the doctor’s face carefully as she finished each trial, but he was surely being cautious not to give anything away. He just nodded and moved on each time. 

Finally, he sat back in his seat, scratching at his head with the capped end of a pen. 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said, shaking his head. “Mrs. Sharpe, your vision is amazing. You have twenty-ten vision in both of your eyes.” 

“How is that possible?” I looked between both of them, shocked. The doctor looked confused, but my wife only looked ecstatic. “She only had twenty-forty last time she checked! She needed reading glasses!” 

The doctor shrugged, checking his records. “Like I said, I don’t know what to tell you. I think all we can do is give it some time, and keep watchi...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/GeneralP123 on 2024-09-14 22:30:14+00:00.

---

Many people are afraid of spiders or heights, my phobia is a fairly common one as well, you see, I am afraid of clowns.

When I say I'm afraid of clowns, I really mean it, I can barely even look at the most benevolent clown for more than ten minutes without screaming and crying, trying to watch any killer clown horror movie would probably cause my premature death.

That being said, I'll tell you about the time that I tried confronting my fear, I doubt telling you this story will help me get over my fear of clowns, however, it might make you afraid of them, so don't continue reading if you don't want another phobia in your life.

The story goes as follows...

A couple of months ago I was enjoying the weekend with a friend in his house, only he and his cat live there, so his house is pretty much the perfect hangout place.

We were playing video games while my friend's cat was curled up in my lap, usually cats hate me, but Bob always had a soft spot for me, he loves to follow me around everywhere I go, he especially loves when I use his fuzzy back as an arm rest.

After a couple of hours we decided to buy some whisky and coke from the nearby supermarket, we quickly exited the house and walked towards the supermarket which was only around three minutes away.

Unfortunately, our trip wasn't as simple as I originally anticipated, standing right next to the supermarket, we saw the one thing that makes my blood run cold, a clown.

A panic attack hit me as soon as I saw the clown, even though every clown creeps me out, there was just something about this one that made me extremely uncomfortable, he looked like a Ronald McDonald copy, although a very bad copy, the clown was sickly slim and short, his costume had many rips and tears, the makeup on his face was horribly done, it was so awful that his face looked like someone threw a couple of buckets of random paint on it.

Even though the clown's appearance alone was frightening enough to ruin my day, what scared me the most was the way he looked at me, even from a distance I could tell that he was staring straight into my eyes, he was smiling so hard that it looked like the skin on his face will get ripped off by his unnatural smile, worst of all, he wouldn't stop smiling at all, his smile seemed to widen with every passing second.

At this point, I was completely frozen in place, my friend tapped me on the shoulder and said "Let's just go and grab the drinks, you don't have to look at that weirdo."

I somehow powered through my panic attack and said "Sure, but I'm gonna stare at the bastard, can't be a coward forever, it's about damn time I try doing something about my problem."

My friend gave me a reassuring look and replied with a simple "Alright."

Another even more potent panic attack hit me as soon as I took only two steps towards the clown, I started crying, embarrassed, I barely mustered the strength to tell my friend that I'm going back to the apartment.

I speed walked back to the house, I collapsed on the couch in tears as soon as I entered, Bob rushed to cheer me up by jumping on top of my back and purring.

It didn't take more than thirty minutes for my friend to return, he was proudly carrying two bags full of drinks and snacks like they were trophies.

He put the bags on the nearby table, then cheerily, he started talking "You know, that clown wasn't that bad, one guy gave him some money and then he..."

Before he finished his sentence, annoyed and exhausted, I said "Please, let's just drink, I don't want to hear about it."

He nodded understandingly and went to grab the whisky glasses.

Hours passed, after some time of heavy drinking we fell asleep on the couch, it wasn't an enjoyable nap for me, because a nightmare involving the supermarket clown which I would rather not describe woke me up.

I groggily went to the spare bedroom, but before going to bed, I realized that neither of us locked the front door, who knows how long we were asleep, it's not like this is a crime-free neighborhood, anyone could've entered the house.

I walked as fast as I could towards the front door, I checked it and as expected, it wasn't locked, so I immediately locked it.

I reassured myself that no intruder entered the house, then I went bed.

While lying in bed, morbid thoughts started attacking my mind, what if someone entered the house? What if the clown we saw earlier followed my friend home and is waiting for the opportunity to surprise us?

The sequence of disturbing thoughts was instantly stopped by the sound of soft meowing.

I was shocked to hear meowing coming from under my bed, but that shock was immediately replaced by a feeling of relief, even though Bob was just a cat, knowing he's here to protect me while I try to sleep was oddly putting my mind to rest.

After some time of rolling around in bed, I finally fell asleep to the sounds of soft meowing and purring.

I woke up early next morning, considering my paranoia from last night, the sleep itself wasn't too bad.

I found my friend playing with Bob in the living room.

I immediately told him "Bob's a real lifesaver, If it wasn't for him, It would've been damn near impossible for me to get some sleep last night."

He looked at me in confusion and asked "Whatcha mean?"

"Bob was keeping me company, he slept under my bed last night." I said with a smile.

"Nah, he was here with me, he slept right next to the couch." my friend immediately rebutted.

"I heard him meowing in my room." I responded.

"I know Bob thinks you're cool and all, but he always sleeps next to me, it's like a ritual of ours, you see..." He stopped mid-sentence, his calm demeanor was rapidly substituted by absolute fear.

"Please, just trust me, follow me and don't ask any questions until we're out of the house." he said with an unusual shakiness in his voice.

He picked up Bob and ran towards the front door, I followed him as he hastily unlocked it, he barely gave me enough time to put on my shoes before pushing me out of the house and then immediately locked the front door behind us.

He rummaged through his pockets trying to find his phone, he quickly realized he left it inside the house so he turned towards me and said with noticable urgency in his voice "Give me your phone, we have to call the police."

I gave him the phone, but before he could use it I asked him "Can you at least tell me what the hell is going on?"

"You really wouldn't want to know." He brushed me off.

I snatched the phone out of his hand, with visible annoyance on my face, I said "I do want to know, I'm not giving you my phone before you tell me why you're acting like a mental patient."

"Fine, I'll tell you, but please stay as calm as you can." He told me before taking a deep breath.

"Yesterday, you cut me off before I could tell you why I didn't think the clown was so bad, you see, some guy gave him some money then the clown gave the guy some cards with pictures of animals on them, as soon as the guy picked the card he wanted, the clown would mimick the animal that was on the card, he imitated a frog, then a dog, the croaks and barks were exactly like the real thing, If I closed my eyes I wouldn't notice that a human being is making those sounds."

"Yeah, so?" I asked, very confused by his story.

"Well, he could also do a cat impression." he said with a defeated look on his face.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Suffocated-Soul on 2024-09-14 21:22:25+00:00.

---

Growing up on the border of Alabama and Mississippi had its perks, mainly the seemingly never ending trees and the creek that wasn't too far from my grandmother's house. The heat and tornadoes were something I wish I didn't have growing up though, I can't count how many times I would wake up in the middle of the night to the sounds of the tornado sirens going off or to my grandmother's old radio that she always kept on issuing a weather warning.

I was also prone to nightmares at that time of my life, they would happen more frequently when I stayed with my grandmother but I would still have them when I wasn't there. They've lessened over the years but every once in a while I'll get them. My grandmother's house was also just all-around creepy to me as a kid. In the room I would sleep in there was a large mulberry tree just outside the window, it grew close to the house and the branches would sometimes scrape against the window.

I stayed with my grandmother a lot when I was young, my mom worked overnight at the hospital so sending me to stay with my grandmother beat having to pay a babysitter. I honestly loved staying with my grandmother, anytime I was at her house it was always warm home cooked meals and she would show off anything she had that she thought was cool. Most of the things she had to show off though were books, newspaper clippings, or random antique trinkets that she had collected over the years.

A lot of the time she would already have food laid out on her kitchen table before I even arrived, then she would talk with my mom a bit while I ate, then she would sit out on her back patio for a while. She would sit in a rocking chair wrapped in a green jacket that was too small for her and falling apart. The jacket had clear signs that she had tried to sew the sleeves and mend some of the holes, but that didn't help with the frayed edges that unraveled more each time I saw her. I usually didn't join her when she was out back, every time I did she would offer me a cigarette but scold me if I accepted.

The night that would lead to the decline of my visits with my grandmother started the same as all the others, me running out of my moms car and almost tripping on the steps that led up to the front door. My grandmother waiting on the porch to give me a hug and tell me to go eat while she talked with my mom. I never heard what they were talking about, and being ten I didn't really care. My grandmother came in sometime later, hobbling the best she could since she refused to use a walker or cane.

"I tried to make everything you liked. If you don't like it just don't eat it I won't be upset."

I assured her that everything was great, because it was. I would never admit it to my mom but she wasn't the best of cooks, so being able to have a meal that didn't make me want to consult a religious leader was a welcome change.

"There's some coke in the fridge for you. I didn't want them getting warm." She hobbled to the back door, grabbing the green jacket that hung up on the wall to do what must have been a daily ritual for her.

By the time I finished my dinner she was already back inside and putting away the leftovers. I helped her the best I could, but looking back now I think I was just in the way.

That night I heard the same sound I always had, that tapping and scratching on the window. It still scared me even after my grandmother assured me that it was just the tree outside the window. She had told me that she would cut the branches so I wouldn't have to worry, and I thought she had, but the knocking and scraping still continued.

I tried to sleep through it, at this point it was honestly pretty easy since I was used to it. I was on the brink of sleep when I heard a voice whispering to me. It was saying my name repeatedly, I didn't know if it was my grandmother but if it was she didn't try very hard to wake me up because I fell asleep anyway.

I woke up to the sound of running water and mosquitoes pricking my skin. When I opened my eyes I was face down on the ground outside. I was at the creek. The same creek that my grandmother insisted I never go alone because there were too many snakes. I sat up and sat on the ground for a while, hoping that I was having another nightmare and that I would wake up back in my grandmother's house tucked into bed. But I didn't wake up, and each snap of twigs from some animal solidified that in my mind. I cried for a long time. I didn't want to get up, I wanted to wait and let someone come find me and take me back. But I knew that it was late and that I wouldn't be found if I didn't try to find my own way back.

I had been to the creek enough times to know my way back, but it was so dark that I was unsure which way I was meant to go. At the time I thought the smartest thing for me to do was to turn my back to the creek and walk straight. So that's what I did. I walked for what felt like a lifetime but I kept having to stop and watch the ground to make sure I didn't step on a snake.

As I walked I kept getting more and more upset. I would cry until I couldn't see, wipe my eyes, and cry again. I started to hear the crunching of leaves that wasn't coming from me, looking back now it was very stupid of me, but I started calling out for my mom and grandmother. I hoped that they were out here looking for me and that they would hear me if I yelled loud enough. But if either of them were out there neither responded.

Eventually I got to the point where I couldn't keep going, I collapsed next to a tree and cried until I almost threw up. My crying was interrupted by more crunching of leaves, this time they were getting closer though, and I realized that they were footsteps. I froze up and tried to keep my crying quiet. I thought that if I was still enough then I wouldn't be seen. So I sat there covering my mouth to stifle my sobs and laying on the ground as still as I could.

The footsteps got closer. And closer.

And then they stopped. They stopped right next to me and I cried harder.

"What are you doing out here alone."

He asked me a question but it didn't sound like a question. His voice was calm and warm, it sounded familiar but I was sure that I had never heard it before. Looking up at him after realizing that my attempts to hide were useless I saw that he looked similar to my grandmother. He was a little taller, much younger, and his eyes were a bit darker. I think that's why all the 'stranger danger' training went out the window.

I sobbed and tried to explain that I had woke up by the creek, but it was unintelligible.

"Aw it's okay." He knelt down, pulling me into a hug before standing up again.

He rubbed my back for a while, telling me that everything would be okay. I felt like he was right, that as soon as he showed up everything was fine. He continued to console me while carrying me through the woods, after a while I had stopped crying altogether, laying my head on his shoulder and trying to stay awake from how exhausted I had become.

I never told him where my grandmother's house was but he knew the way, calmly walking through the woods and making his way to the clearing that bordered my grandmother's property.

I could see my grandmother's house.

The lights were on in the house. My grandmother was standing past the well, near the tree line that the man and I had exited. I was happy to see her, I knew that I should have shaken off the man's grip and ran to her but I didn't, I was content where I was and I didn't know why. He had stopped when he saw my grandmother, and when I looked at him I saw that he was smiling warmly at her.

I couldn't hear exactly what my grandmother had said but it was something to the effect of, "Put her down." He did, setting me down on the ground gently and ruffling my hair before putting both of his hands in his pockets. I stayed next to him, I couldn't hear my grandmother until she yelled and I remember being scared because she was mad at me.

"GET OVER HERE!"

My grandmother was always very soft spoken, as soon as she yelled I ran over to her and did as she said without whining when she hissed at me to get into the house.

"No need to be so harsh on her Eve. She's a good kid." I heard the mans calm voice before I started running back to the house. 

I watched them through the window once I got inside. But once my grandmother started walking back to the house I got away from the window and stood near the door. I wanted to cry again knowing that I had upset her so much.

I kept apologizing to her and she insisted that it was okay but I knew it wasn't. She sat at the kitchen table with me while she called my mom, who showed up thirty minutes later with the police. I assume my mom called the police because I remember my grandmother talking to her on the phone and saying that she didn't need to call anyone. My mom yelled at my grandmother for a while and I had to talk to the police.

As far as I know they never found anyone, but after that I wasn't allowed to spend the night at my grandmothers anymore.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/googlyeyes93 on 2024-09-14 18:58:29+00:00.

---

For about ten years now, I’ve been a ranger in the Okefenokee Swamp Park. It’s the largest blackwater swamp in the entire United States, and takes up a good chunk of southeast Georgia. The place is massive, home to all kinds of wildlife from foxes to alligators to the occasional bear.

Over the years, I’ve found that it’s not only wildlife that inhabits these swamps though. There’s something else out here, not human, of course, but the swamp hides its fair share of secrets from the world beyond its waters.

One of my earliest memories was during my first year as a junior ranger. I was young, maybe twenty five or so when I got the job, and they were drip feeding me new duties as the days went by. Eventually I got to the point where I could do patrols myself if there was anything that needed to be checked on, and they finally gave me the keys to the fan boats we would use to get into the deeper parts. That’s what gave me my first scare.

It was getting dark out and some folks came into the station, telling us they had been out hiking and lost one of their buddies. Not too uncommon, considering if you take a wrong turn there’s nothing but water and dense trees to find your way back, and unless you’ve got a keen eye, you’re not going to notice the difference. Now the sun was going down, and they say they hadn’t seen him in a few hours, despite calling out for him the entire way back.

So, it fell on me to go out there and search while Lena, my partner on duty, was the one to take the report. I grabbed the big-ass flashlight we use for night searches, the boat keys, and headed out the door to see what I could find.

They said they had come from the Western part of the swamp, a more densely wooded region prone to a lot of flooding. Not a great thing right now as the clouds were coming out for a thunderstorm yet again. Moonlight was in and out, sliding behind clouds and plunging me into darkness every few minutes before re-emerging again for brief illumination whenever it felt like it. The trees above were casting eerie shadows, and every movement from around me made me jump as the night grew darker.

Mosquitos were the worst damn thing out here. Plenty of the bastards were swarming me, almost blocking the floodlight as they swirled around in the beam. It was hard enough seeing anything tyhrough the shadows of the trees out here, but seeing millions of tiny bugs make shadows the size of dogs in the distance? That does some weird shit to your brain. The heat didn’t help much, either, making my clothes stick to my sweaty skin.

I was out there maybe two hours, moon high overhead and sun long gone now, when the first shower finally came. Rain started falling slow at first, just a drop here and there as thunder gave ominous rumbles in the background. An occasional flash of lightning would overtake my surroundings, completely overpowering the beam of my flashlight and making the entire swamp around visible. That was when I first started to notice them.

It looked like people at first, hiding behind trees, obscured in shadows and branches to keep from being seen. Some were taller than others, some a bright, sunbleached white while others appeared covered in mold and dirt. The first one I barely caught in the light as it ducked back behind a tree, long white fingers on one hand being the only thing I saw before they slipped back into the darkness behind it.

I saw another one ten minutes later, though this one was… much more clear. It was in the middle of the trees, partially submerged in some of the water and muck below. From the waste up, there was a mostly decayed body, stripped by the bugs and weather down to the bone already, ribs holding rotten ribbons of flesh on them. It disappeared as quickly as my light hit it, one rotting eye still staring at me from its skull as it submerged under the water, leaving me shaking in fear.

Despite trying to get a message back to Lena, I didn’t have any signal going through on my walkie. I was finally around the space where they said they had lost their friend, and I started yelling for him, despite how scared shitless I was. Everything I had seen up to that point I was able to just… rationalize I guess. It was my first time out in the swamp on my own, especially this late at night, and the weather wasn’t helping my nerves.

Ahead of me the trees opened up in a clearing, nothing but a small pond unmarred by roots or trunks sticking through. The rain stopped suddenly, moon appearing from behind the clouds now and shining down on the dark black water below, reflecting its light.

There, standing in the middle of the clearing with hands stretched high into the sky, as if pleading for the moon to come down and meet it, was a body. Hell, a body was probably putting it mildly, as this thing was stripped of all flesh, empty sockets where the eyes should be as it stared up into the moon above. From where I was in the boat, I could see it was dressed in a long, flowing white gown. Almost like a wedding dress. I couldn’t tell if it was looking in longing, reverence, or both as it reached further toward the moon. It was standing atop the water’s surface as if it was a smooth glass floor, not even making ripples across the water as it was glowing in the moonlight beneath her.

As I was watching, more skeletons and decaying bodies emerged from the water, gliding upward to surround the skeletal bride as she continued reaching for the moon above. They grabbed her, dragging her back down below the surface of the water, as the moon was once more hidden by clouds above. I tried shining my floodlight over to see if there was anything still there, but the clearing was completely empty, just shadows dancing off the waters surface again.

I turned tail and ran that night. We ended up finding the guy that was missing the next day, somehow wandered right over to one of the nearby highways, though it was a hell of a walk for him to get there. Lena didn’t believe me when I told her about the skeletons and decaying bodies in the water, simply looking at me like I was absolutely insane.

A year or so later, we were the unlucky site of a murder. Or at least, it was initially called a murder. Some poor girls body was found floating in one of the more touristy areas, totally drained of every damn drop of blood. All they were able to find was one puncture wound in between her neck and shoulder. That wasn’t from any animal known to be in the park, so Georgia Bureau of Investigations came in to look around.

I got paired up to lead a guy named Sully around the swamps, investigating to see if we could find any sign of where she was killed or a possible weapon, even. Good guy, we ended up getting to be friends in the couple of weeks we were going around the whole length of the Okefenokee. One thing we agreed on- the amount of destruction being done to the environment out here needed to stop.

There was a mining operation about to start nearby, extracting lithium through strip mines right outside of the damned swamp borders. That was just the latest issue too, because a few of the major train yards had been dumping chemicals for the last few decades that was just now coming to light. God knows it added to the cancer clusters that have been popping up in the youth around here, taking kids way too damn young.

What we found one night though, almost a week after beginning our investigation, made us both see that the problems were only going to get worse. Another body had turned up a day earlier, causing a whole other fuss as GBI was still trying to get a handle on the situation. This was a big guy, too. They matched him up with a trucker that had gone missing a couple of weeks ago, big rig found empty and abandoned on the side of the highway nearby. His body was pretty messed up, decay setting in, but he had a similar wound with the same telltale sign- his body was absolutely drained of blood.

Sully and I spent the next day tracking deep into the swamp, trying to figure out where it could have come from based on the faint currents through the waters. After about seven hours of tracking from sunup, we found something.

A shallow clearing in the middle of the northeast quadrant, tons of trees clustered around it that kept it mostly closed off, but a small gap between that became a floodgate essentially when it rained. We theorized that was what was letting the bodies loose, allowing them to drift over to the more populated areas of the swamp where they would be found.

Our theory was somewhat backed up almost immediately, and we definitely found the origin point of the dead people. Inside this clearing, bodies were piled up in various states of decay. Every single one was drained of blood, the newest corpse probably being only a few days old at most. Alabaster white skin was glowing against the dark waters, making me feel nauseated in the humid afternoon. The whole area smelled of death, with the bodies adding on to the decay from rotting trees and vegetation. It was worse than the time I found a rotting bear near the park entrance, poor bastard almost torn in half by a car that hit him.

They all had the same puncture wound, though it was on different sides for some of the bodies. Probably just wherever the killer was able to get a good angle in. Sully pulled out his radio to make a call back to the station, letting them know what we had found. Unfortunately they said it was going to be a bit be...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/fella_that_is_orange on 2024-09-14 08:34:40+00:00.

---

Hey everyone. I'm having maybe a medical emergency and thought I'd use this forum as a way to ask about it. It's a long and strange story so I'll jump right in.

I've had sleep paralysis since I was twelve. My mum believes it started as a puberty thing but it's been eight years and at least three times a week I get locked in my own body, unable to move or talk, only able to breathe and occasionally open my eyes. 

At first that was the most of it, just waking up in the night, stuck staring at the ceiling or at a wall, scared but very relieved when it was over. After a year or so I then began getting the waking nightmares other people get. To start with it was just noises, indiscernible voices, loud bangs from inside my skull and the occasional shout from a person not there. Couple months after it began I would start trying to pry my eyes open. It was hard but whenever I could manage to open them I saw bizarre hallucinations. They were always black smears or blobs drifting in and out of view, sometimes they would stop and just remain still. Whenever that happened I clenched my eyes shut, there’s something haunting about a shapeless entity observing you as you watch it. I know it wasn't real but the fact it can move and chooses not to, scared the shit out of me, even if it was just a blurry circle.

I've done my fair share of research on sleep paralysis and my case is a severe one but still common enough version of it. The more I looked into it, the more fear I got waiting for the future. A big one I was scared of was hearing footsteps walk right up to you. The idea of that happening to me drove me insane for a while and then one night when I was fourteen it happened. I awake from a nightmare, some bizarre dream about a murderous clown I think, I was locked in my body as per usual. Then I heard a strange series of noises. First a creaking door, followed by a slam, whisperings that I couldn't comprehend and then.

Clomp, clomp, clomp. Three heavy footfalls right beside my bed. The whisperings are partially discernible but still nonsense.

“Maybe we should see the monkeys, go to the ground floor.” 

It was driving me mad, line after line just like that but instead of all around me, right in front of my face, inches away from me. It had to be real, it had to be some drunken, meth head, freak looming over me, trying to get my attention.

“He broke the vase, I tried to keep it upright.”

I fought my eyelids, I forced them open as the bright light of the day made its way through the window into my sensitive eyes and as they finally cracked open fully. Nothing. Dead silence, and a vague blur hovering just in view. Relief filled my body but so did dread. Once one new symptom starts it tends to become commonplace, so from that moment on, every other night I had to deal with something walking up to me and whispering insanity into my ears.

Another symptom I dreaded every time I read about it was the hat man. Apparently nearly every single person who regularly gets sleep paralysis would see a shadowy figure wearing a hat. Noone can definitively say what kind of hat he wears but they usually lurk just within view. Every time I read that when I was young I would feel sick. I can handle the blurry shapes, even when they stop to look at me but a full man just waiting for the time to pass in the corner of my eye was sickening.

But the truth was, when I finally got that symptom, it was hilarious. The first time it happened I was eighteen. I was having another episode where there was something walking up to me. Once again I pried my eyes open, only this time the voices continued but they moved rapidly over to where a huge congregation of blobs had formed in the vague shape of a man, in the corner of my eye. At first I wanted to scream, a man was in my room and was whispering nonsense. 

“Bring out your rake, he's nearly ready.”

Then I had this overwhelming urge to check his hat. Everyone talks about his hat so I wanted to finally get to the bottom of what it was. Low and behold, a fedora, it had to be. The short brim, divot on top, mixed with the vague outline of a trench coat, it was a blurry man trying to look like a detective, or maybe a redditor. The idea made me snap out of sleep paralysis immediately and laugh my guts up until I cried. This guy? I thought. This guy is the thing everyone is scared of, a rambling idiot in a shitty cosplay. 

There is only one thing scary about him, is he real? I know that's a bizarre question but, everyone seems to see him and he is always wearing a hat, so is he real? Or is he a visual ingrained in our minds, an evolutionary fear. If that's the case, why do our minds give him a hat? It's always bothered me a bit.

The final symptom I got later was the weight on my chest. Apparently a lot of people get a heavy hallucinatory feeling on their chest when they're in sleep paralysis. They get a sensation of a little creature resting on them and holding them down. Often this is accompanied by a shortness of breath or the inability to breathe. I never got it until a year ago.

At nineteen my mum wanted me to move out, she was a very traditional parent. Once you're eighteen, out of the house, live on your own. I managed to hold onto an extra year but then my mum buckled down, made us look for some housing.

“You're gonna be 50 and still living with us Bailey, harden up and move out.” She would tell me. 

I always found it insane, she acted like living with a nineteen year old was like looking after a middle-aged man. Besides, she never taught me how to look for a house, get a loan, find places to rent, nothing. I was on my own working it all out and she would occasionally shoot me with an address or an affordable place to rent or buy. I would attempt to look into it but I always got confused or embarrassed while enquiring so I didn't get far on my own. Mum then received an offer. 

Mum is a manager at a local grocery store, a small chain but nothing major. The owner of the whole chain comes in from time to time to check in with each individual store. Her name is Pauline, she's around seventy and she was so incredibly kind, all the time. She always listened to my mum's long winded, goes nowhere stories and even gave her paid leave once when mum fell ill.

Anyway, Pauline came into the store and my mum went on her usual rambles but this time she brings up me needing a home. Pauline apparently lit up like crazy and was almost begging my mum to move me into the house neighbouring her’s.

See, Pauline owned nearly her whole street, she bought it out years ago. She rented the houses out for cheap to families in need of easy accommodation and claimed to have even sold a few off well below market value. The house next to Pauline's has been vacant for a while, she told my mum. About four years or so is what she said so she'd happily let me rent it for an insanely cheap amount just so she was making some kind of money from it. So that's where I moved in.

The first day I moved in I got to meet Pauline myself. She was short but held herself well, white curly hair and even a small grandma moustache on her upper lip. She helped me tidy the place of dust, which shockingly wasn't much, so I asked her.

“I thought this place had been empty for a while?”

Pauline nodded, “Yes, a couple months now, didn't have the time to dust everyday so it built up a little, sorry.”

I got quite confused, that wasn't what mum said, I was sure of it. After a small period of awkward silence as we scrubbed old grit from the oven I stopped and looked at her.

“A couple months?” She nodded again, her face seemed cold. “Mum said it was four years.”

Pauline stopped for a moment, like she was caught off guard and then chuckled, “Oh my bad sweetheart, that must have made me sound like quite the liar!” She slapped her hand on my shoulder and chuckled a little more, “Your mum must have misunderstood. What I meant was, I can't keep someone in this house for a long period of time, they usually move out after six months or so, some don't even last a full month.”

She was still chuckling to herself which made me feel uneasy, it wasn't really a funny misunderstanding, just a simple mistake but she laughed so awkwardly, like she was laughing out of courtesy at a bad joke. I turned back to the oven and started scraping away. I wondered why people couldn't stay long. The house was nice, well kept, fairly large and even still had a decent amount of furniture. I dragged my head from the oven and got her attention by tugging on her dress like a five year old.

“Why don't people stay?” I asked as I stood to my feet and dusted my knees off.

Pauline let out a little sigh and then tossed her rag into the sink, “I should have told you from the beginning.”

She walked out and waved a hand for me to follow. She took me to the bathroom and then pulled the door of the shower open and pointed to the drain. “There’s something wrong with the plumbing, I've had people come to look at it but it can never seem to be fixed. A rancid smell occasionally lifts up through this pipe and a few folks have claimed they saw fatty hunks rise from it, their best guess was the sewers are backing up into the house's plumbing, I don't know how it works so I just took their word for it,” she looked to me with a worried smile, “sorry I didn't tell you, that's not fair on you.”

I told her it was alright and then I stuck my head in to look closer at the d...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/ayouree7 on 2024-09-14 15:47:44+00:00.

---

This happened back when I was in 9th grade, about six years ago. I had a best friend, let’s call her Ashley. She didn’t have the easiest life growing up, and things around her always felt... off. She lived in Wisconsin, and when she was just 8, her house caught fire. She made it out with her dad and brother, but tragically, her mom and two younger sisters didn’t survive.

Ashley always talked about feeling like something was following her. It wasn’t just a vague feeling either. Late at night, when I’d be on the phone with her, I’d hear her scream suddenly, followed by a loud thud. Then, she’d come to school the next day with these bright red handprints on her ankle, like something yanked her off her bed in the middle of the night.

At first, I thought maybe it was her dad or brother, but after spending weeks at her house, I ruled that out. They were either too out of it or too lazy to even get off the couch. Whatever was happening to her wasn’t coming from them.

Weird things happened every time I stayed over. I’d go to the kitchen for water late at night, turn off the light, walk halfway down the hall, and suddenly the light would flick back on. Every time I’d spin around, no one was there. The only switch was at the edge of the kitchen, and there was no way anyone could have flicked it on without me seeing them.

Then one night, things got really messed up.

Ashley, our friend Eli, and I were hanging out at Eli’s place. Ashley had fallen asleep, her head in my lap while Eli and I watched TV. Everything seemed normal until about an hour into her sleep. She started to feel cold. Really cold. I covered her with a blanket, but it didn’t help. Then, without warning, she shot up, gasping for air like she had been drowning. She stood up and walked out of the room without saying a word. Eli and I were confused but didn’t think too much of it at first.

A minute later, Ashley came back—but she was holding a butcher’s knife. She stood at the door, just staring at us. I swear, her face was blank, like she wasn’t even really there. Eli and I started to freak out.

Eli asked, “Dude, what do we do? You and her always talk about this stuff. Do we line the door with salt or something?”

I was just as panicked, “I don’t know! Maybe! Just do it!”

So Eli grabbed salt and started lining the doorway and windows. But Ashley hadn’t moved. She just stood there, staring with that knife in her hand. Then, suddenly, she started chanting. It wasn’t English, and it wasn’t anything I recognized. Latin maybe? Or something worse?

That’s when she turned to the wall and started stabbing it, over and over, still chanting in that creepy voice. Eli and I were frozen in place, too shocked to move. Then, just as suddenly as she started, she stopped. She dropped the knife and collapsed to the floor.

Eli’s brother, Jake, woke up and came out of his room, confused by all the noise. “What the hell is going on?”

Eli quickly shouted, “Get back in your room, Jake! Stay back!”

But Jake didn’t listen. He moved toward Ashley, and as soon as he did, she turned and locked eyes with him. He freaked out, ran to the bathroom, and slammed the door shut. Ashley followed, scratching at the bathroom door like an animal trying to claw her way inside. The scratching went on for a full five minutes before she finally stopped.

Then she turned and stared directly at Eli. Her voice cracked as she screamed his name, over and over, “ELI! ELI! ELI!”

Eli started crying, completely lost. She was 5'2" and barely 110 lbs, but somehow, she blew the salt away from the doorway like it was nothing. Then, she crawled—backwards—into the room. She yanked a recliner out of her way with ease, picked up a necklace she had lost a week before, and crawled backwards out of the house.

We were in total shock. It was like time stopped. For thirty minutes, we didn’t move, didn’t say a word. When I finally pulled myself together, I ran out after her. Jake and Eli followed, but we couldn’t find her anywhere. We searched for an hour before going back inside, completely confused and scared.

It was almost 3 a.m. by then. We tried calling her dad, but no answer. The three of us gathered in Eli’s room, too shaken to think straight. At some point, we fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

I woke up first the next morning and walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. As I turned the corner, I noticed the front door was wide open. And there, lying asleep on the threshold, was Ashley.

I woke her up, and she freaked out, asking how she got there. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep with her head in my lap while we watched TV.

She didn’t remember anything. Not the chanting, the knife, the scratching—none of it.

To this day, I’m not sure if we encountered a demon, a jinn, or something even darker. All I know is that after that night, I didn’t spend another night under the same roof as Ashley for a long, long time.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/CallMeStarr on 2024-09-14 13:00:57+00:00.

---

It happened on July 5th. I’ll never forget that day, nor the hangover that came with it. My eyes were swollen, glistening red. My head felt like a Metallica concert. Ugh. Why did I stay out so late? Truth be told, it wasn’t my fault. It was Rowan’s fault. She’s my girlfriend. She wanted to party. Don't judge her. Unlike me, Rowan is very smart. She studied Biology.

My boss, who’s also my uncle, made me work that morning so he could have the entire weekend off. Needless to say, I partied my face off the night before. It was Independence Day, for Christ’s sake. What did he expect?

Uncle Ray owns Brews & Wash, a laundromat which serves alcohol. It’s located in the old part of town, where the buildings are ramshackle and derelict. The clientele is, well, suspect at best. But for the most part, they don’t bother me much.

First off, I’d never been in the basement before. It’s Off Limits. Plus, I’ve never opened the store. That’s Ray’s job. But he gave me the keys, and told me not to do anything stupid. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s an easy job. Even an idiot like me can do it. Still, it would’ve been nice if Ray had warned me about the door.

The basement is where Ray keeps the beer. Judging from the empty fridge, we’d sold a tonne of beer the day before. Like, who does laundry on the 4th?

First thing I had to do was stock up the beer fridge, so I went downstairs to the basement. It’s a good thing I’m short, or dare I say: Vertically Challenged. I had to crouch. The basement has a low ceiling, the walls are dry-laid stone. It smelled like piss and mouse droppings. Cobwebs covering every inch of the mossy walls. Ugh, I hate old basements. There was only one light bulb, dangling vicariously at the bottom of the stairs. Probably not safe.

At the bottom of the stairs was a stack of empties with fruit flies zooming in and out of soggy cardboard boxes. As I searched the basement, looking for the beer, something scurried across my foot, causing me to jump and smash my head on the low-lying ceiling. It hurt like hell, lemme tell ya. The sooner I found the beer, the better. Already, the basement was giving me the heebie-jeebies.

I turned on my phone’s flashlight, and scanned the tight quarters. Mostly, the basement was filled with junk. Soap boxes galore. Several cases of beer were stacked against the furthest wall to my right, next to the broken mop bucket. I shoved my phone into my pocket and grabbed a case, then I scooted back towards the stairs, careful not to trip on anything.

I stopped.

There was a peculiar door hidden behind the stairs, roughly four-feet tall and covered in filth. Around the handle was a derelict sign declaring DO NOT ENTER! In the middle of the door, behind a curtain of cobwebs, was a human skull. It was painted, probably red, but it’s hard to tell. It was severely faded, ravaged from time. Just looking at it creeped me out. But the door held me prisoner. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. Attached was a sizable silver lock. Without knowing it, I was fumbling the key ring, and discovered a bazaar key shaped like a human skull. It looked extremely old. As old as the building, at least. I’ll bet that weird-looking key fits that lock.

For a moment, I stood stupidly, grappling with the key ring while balancing the beer, wondering about the DO NOT ENTER! sign.

BZZZZ.

Something buzzed, startling me. I sprang upstairs like a scared kid in a cheesy horror story.

Stupid phone. Rowan texted me, asking how I was feeling. Deeply embarrassed, I replied with a thumbs up and a series of hearts. I’ll send a proper message once I finish prepping the store. It was nearing nine o'clock, opening time. No more dilly-dallying.

Before putting my phone away, I texted Ray, asking about the strange door. Not surprisingly, Ray ignored my text. Probably still sleeping. Ray can be a jerk when he wants to be, let’s just say. But I didn’t care, I just wanted to get this shift over with so I could curl up next to Rowan and snuggle.

Fighting a sore head, I stocked the fridge, prepared the till, and did the paperwork. Ray is old, he still prefers paper over computers. Says it’s safer that way. Whatever, at least I’m getting paid extra for being here, I reminded myself. I could use the money.

I made myself a coffee, then switched the sign to OPEN, wondering who does laundry at this godforsaken hour. On this day, no less. Three cups of coffee and two restroom breaks later, I started getting antsy. My mind kept returning to the door with the DO NOT ENTER! sign. Since there were no customers, I could dash downstairs, open the door, and have a peek. I pondered this for the better part of an hour.

Still, no customers.

The key ring danced between my fingers, beckoning me, until finally, I submitted. Just a quick peek, I reminded myself.

If only I resisted. If only customers came. If only…

The stairs protested under my weight, creaking as I crept. The light from my phone made strange shadows, which skittered across the stone walls, like cockroaches. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, my heart suddenly stopped. The door was shimmering. The skull seemed alive, its empty eyes sizing me up. I fumbled the keys, dropping them. When I scooped them up, they were sticky and gross from the gooey floor, which probably hadn’t been cleaned in a hundred years.

The skull was taunting me, daring me to enter. It was pulsating. Breathing, perhaps. I knew this was impossible, that the darkness was hampering my better judgement, so I laughed, teasing myself. But damn, was I jittery.

Go on, I told myself. Can’t chicken out now. Just a peek. Maybe I’ll discover long-lost treasures. Classic baseball cards, perhaps. How cool is that? I wiped my sweaty brow, which made my face dirty. Every inch of the basement was filthy. Ugh. It’s now or never, I told myself, so before I could chicken out, I jammed the strange key into the silver lock. It clicked. The door swung over.

Thick fog wafted into the basement, which had a distinct smell, like rotten eggs. I gagged. Cautiously, crouched as low as possible, I poked my head inside the door. Just one peek, I reminded myself.

It was pitch dark, icy cold. Laggardly, I passed through the door. My heart was racing, sweat stinging my eyes. I snatched my phone and turned on the light. All I saw was fog. Disappointed, I shook my head, cursing my stupidity. Careful not to smash my head, I crept back upstairs, both relieved and disappointed.

Halfway upstairs, the door dinged. A customer! It was Maybelle, an elderly lady who does her laundry once a month. She’s nice enough. I watched her load the machines, then sit by the big bay window and start reading a paperback. She lives across the street, in an apartment complex. Once, when I asked her why she doesn’t use their facilities, she told me she liked getting out once and a while. Besides, she doesn’t trust their machines.

Panicking, I realized I hadn’t shut the basement door. Who knows what could crawl out of that tiny crevice? Cursing my existence and nursing a headache, I inched downstairs. Then I stopped. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing: Snow!

It rarely snows in my town even in the winter. But in July? In a basement? This made zero sense. The snow was wafting in from the half-opened door. My trembling hands found the key ring, while my eyes stared in bewilderment. I’d better shut the damned door before the entire basement fills with snow! I took one small step and slipped, smashing my head against the stairs. My entire body protested, especially my head, which already hurt.

Shivering and sore all over, I crawled towards the door, complaining the entire time, and slammed it shut. WOOSH. Immediately, the snowstorm ceased. When I shoved the key into the lock, however, nothing happened. The door wouldn’t lock, no matter how hard I tried. Again, I cursed myself. What on God’s green earth have I gotten myself into?

That’s when I noticed the skull. It was grinning. For a moment, I stared, mesmerized. It’s not every day you find a skull-clad door grinning back at you with a DO NOT ENTER! sign. When I jammed the key into the lock – this oughta do it! – the door spat it out. Not to be deterred, I dropped to my knees, grateful I’d worn jeans, and searched through the fresh layer of snow, but I couldn’t find the key. I went for my phone, and I dropped it too. Frustration was getting the best of me. Losing a key was one thing. My phone on the other hand…

Bewildered, I swept my hands across the icy floor until I found my phone, which was lying on top of the key. I grabbed both, then bolted upstairs. I could care less about locking the stupid door. Whatever was down there was Ray’s responsibility. Not mine.

Standing behind the counter, pretending to be busy, I fidgeted with my phone, hoping it was okay. It wasn’t. None of the apps seemed to work. Great, like I needed this. I did nothing for an hour except pout, while Maybelle neatly folded her laundry. Moments after she left, a middle-aged man entered, asking about the beer prices. When I responded, he left, shaking his head, grumbling.

As soon as the place emptied, I started shivering. It was getting colder by the minute. Automatically, I reached for my phone, and tried texting Ray again. Of course, my phone wouldn’t work. Worse, my screensaver was now a skull. Same skull as on the door. It was laughing at me.

Anger fueled my next decision. I may not be the most intimidating guy...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/CreepyStoriesJR on 2024-09-13 08:40:02+00:00.

---

Moving to college was something I had been waiting for since I could remember. Growing up in a small town in Ohio, life had been predictable, too predictable. There were only so many times you could walk down the same three streets, wave to the same neighbors, and eat at the same diner before the monotony of it all began to eat away at you. College was supposed to be my ticket out, my chance to start fresh. To reinvent myself.

I chose this university because it was far enough from home that I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew, but not so far that I couldn’t make it back if I needed to. The campus was beautiful, with sprawling green lawns, old brick buildings, and a mix of historical charm and modern innovation. Ridgeway Hall, the dorm where I would be staying, sat on the far edge of campus, a little separated from the newer buildings. It was one of those old, ivy-covered structures that looked like it had been around for centuries.

When I first saw it, standing tall and slightly worn at the end of the long path leading from the main campus, it had an almost foreboding presence. The ivy snaked up the sides of the building, thick and dark, and the windows were narrow, their panes cloudy with age. There was something cold about it, something that made me shiver despite the late summer warmth.

“Ridgeway Hall, huh?” the cab driver had said as he helped unload my bags. “You’ll hear some stories about that place.”

I had laughed it off at the time, eager to get inside and start unpacking. But now, as I stood in the entryway, staring up at the winding staircase and the dark wood-paneled walls, I felt a pang of unease.

The building smelled faintly of old wood and something musty, like books that had been left in a damp basement for too long. The lights were dim, casting long shadows across the floor. I hadn’t expected luxury, of course. I had read the reviews and seen the pictures online. Ridgeway Hall was described as “charming” and “historic,” which I now realized were code words for “outdated” and “creepy.”

I found Room 318 on the third floor, tucked away at the end of a narrow hallway. The door creaked when I pushed it open, revealing a small room with two twin beds, two wooden desks, and a single window that looked out over the campus. The walls were a dull, off-white color, and the floor was covered in an old, threadbare rug that had clearly seen better days. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. For the next few months, at least.

I set my suitcase on one of the beds and looked around. The air in the room was stale, like it hadn’t been aired out in a long time. The window was slightly cracked, and when I walked over to close it, I noticed how dirty the glass was, making the world outside look hazy and distant. I could just make out the silhouette of the clock tower across campus, shrouded in mist from the light rain that had started falling.

A sigh escaped me. It wasn’t what I had imagined, but it would do. I spent the next hour unpacking, filling the dresser drawers with my clothes and setting up my books on the desk. The emptiness of the room was unsettling, and the quiet was almost oppressive. There were no sounds of other students moving in, no doors slamming, no music playing down the hall. It was as if Ridgeway Hall existed in its own bubble, disconnected from the rest of campus.

After finishing my unpacking, I decided to explore the dorm. The building had three floors, and from what I had read, it was one of the oldest structures on campus. The third floor, where my room was located, seemed to be the least occupied. I passed by several closed doors, but I didn’t hear any noise coming from inside. It felt like I was the only one here.

The second floor was a little more lively. I heard the faint sounds of conversation coming from one of the rooms, and the common area at the end of the hallway had a few people lounging on couches, scrolling through their phones. I waved to a couple of students as I walked by, but they didn’t seem to notice me. They were too absorbed in their own world, which suited me just fine.

The first floor, however, was eerily quiet. The lobby was dimly lit, the old chandelier casting flickering shadows on the walls. The floors creaked beneath my feet as I walked, and I could hear the faint hum of the building’s heating system. There was a strange smell down here, too, something metallic mixed with the musty scent of old wood. It wasn’t overpowering, but it was noticeable enough to make me wrinkle my nose.

I found the laundry room and the small kitchen tucked away in a corner near the lobby. They looked as old as the building itself, with outdated appliances and peeling wallpaper. I wondered how many students had passed through Ridgeway Hall over the years, how many had lived in the same room I now occupied. The thought made me feel small, like just another temporary occupant in a place that had existed long before me and would continue long after I was gone.

On my way back to my room, I passed an old corkboard near the stairwell, covered in faded flyers and notices. Most of them were announcements for events that had long since passed, but one flyer caught my eye. It was a simple white piece of paper with bold, black letters that read:

HAVE YOU SEEN ETHAN MARSHALL? Missing since last semester. If you have any information, please contact campus security.

I stared at the flyer for a moment, my heart skipping a beat. Ethan Marshall. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I hadn’t heard anything about a student going missing before coming here, and the fact that the flyer was still up made me wonder if they had ever found him.

The thought of someone disappearing from campus, especially from the same dorm I was now living in, sent a shiver down my spine. I shook it off, telling myself it was probably nothing. People went missing all the time, didn’t they? It was probably unrelated to me or my new life here.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as I headed back to my room. Ridgeway Hall felt different now, darker somehow. The shadows seemed longer, the silence more oppressive. I was glad I wasn’t alone, my roommate would be arriving soon, and having someone else around would make this place feel less... haunted.

When I reached my room, I noticed the door to the room next to mine, Room 317, was slightly ajar. I hadn’t seen anyone enter or leave that room all day, but now I could hear the faint sound of movement from inside. Curiosity got the better of me, and I paused for a moment, listening.

It was subtle at first, just the sound of fabric rustling, like someone shifting in bed. But then I heard something else, something that made my blood run cold. A soft, rhythmic tapping, like fingers drumming on a desk, growing louder with each passing second. I didn’t want to intrude, so I quickly stepped away and headed into my room, closing the door behind me with more force than I had intended. The tapping stopped as soon as my door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was deafening.

I sat on my bed, trying to shake the unease that had settled over me. I told myself it was nothing, just someone moving around in their room. But deep down, I knew something about this place wasn’t right.

And I hadn’t even met my roommate yet.

The following day, I woke up early, feeling a bit more settled after my strange first night. The rain had stopped, and the campus looked brighter under the pale morning sun. I decided to spend some time exploring the main part of the university, trying to familiarize myself with the layout of the buildings and find my way to the dining hall.

It was a peaceful morning, with only a few students milling about. I grabbed breakfast, found a quiet spot outside, and enjoyed my meal while watching people pass by. It was nice to feel part of something bigger, even if I didn’t know anyone yet.

Later in the afternoon, I headed back to Ridgeway Hall, my thoughts drifting to my roommate. I still hadn’t heard from him, and a part of me wondered if he had decided to back out last minute. The idea of having the room to myself was appealing, but at the same time, I was looking forward to meeting him. It would be nice to have someone around to share the experience of living in a new place.

When I reached my room, I noticed the door was slightly open. My heart raced for a moment, thinking back to the flyer I had seen the day before about the missing student. But as I pushed the door open, I saw someone standing by the window, his back to me.

He was tall, with messy brown hair and a relaxed posture, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He turned around as soon as I entered, flashing me a friendly smile.

“Hey, man. You must be Alex, right? Sorry I’m late. I’m Ethan.”

Ethan. My heart skipped a beat at the name. I forced a smile, trying to shake the unease that had suddenly gripped me. There was no way this could be the same Ethan from the flyer... right?

“Nice to finally meet you.” , I said.

Ethan immediately made himself at home, tossing his backpack onto the other bed and starting to unpack. He didn’t seem to notice my hesitation, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he launched into a casual conversation about the dorm, asking me how my first few days had been and whether I’d checked out the dining hall yet.

Despite my initial wariness, I found myself warming up to him quickly. He was easy to talk to, with a laid-bac...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Cheesecakesx on 2024-09-14 07:23:19+00:00.

---

Lily had always wanted a Persian kitten. The soft, cloud-like fur and adorable smoosh faces made her fall in love with the breed. When she finally picked up her new kitten, she felt a strange unease, although she couldn’t pinpoint why... Maybe it was the eyes? strikingly human in a way that made her unsettled. She named the kitten Blueberry, for it's blue and white fur.

Although she had cats before, Blueberry was different: He always seemed to be watching and appeared to understand her and the things she said: (Are you hungry? Let's go in stroller, Kiss time, etc) As well as was hyper intelligent for a cat, At one point she paid for an xray due to him faking a limp... because he liked her carrying him everywhere the vet said with a chuckle.

As it grew, Lily felt an inexplicable bond, a maternal instinct that deepened with each passing day. Blueberry's eyes, always watching, seemed to understand her moods, her joys, and her sorrows. It was as if Blueberry was not just a pet but a silent, empathetic companion.

Taking a break from work one night, Lily left her laptop open to grab a cup of tea. Upon returning, she found a chilling message typed in her work document that she knew she didn't write: "CARRY WILSON 7 KENTUCKY."

Her blood ran cold. She hadn’t written that. She didn’t know any Carry, and she certainly wasn’t familiar with Kentucky. Trembling, she typed the name into a search engine. Her heart dropped when the results appeared... a seven-year-old girl named Carry Wilson had gone missing from Kentucky and was never found.

Lily brushed it off as some bizarre coincidence. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her? Maybe it was keyboard slam autocorrect? She shut her laptop and tried to forget about it, but a gnawing unease stayed with her.

Months later, another incident sent shivers down her spine. Blueberry, now a sleek adolescent cat, Paw still on keyboard, As she rushed to pick him up before he ruined her research essay, She noticed at the end of her document was "BURIED F4M GAZEBOO."

Her heart pounded as she tried to decode the message. Family gazebo? She quickly Googled the connection between Carry Wilson and her family. According to google street view, they had a large property with a gazebo in their backyard.

The overwhelming sense of dread tightened around her, With trembling hands, Emily made an anonymous call to 911, reporting the location of Carry's possible burial under her family's gazebo before quickly hanging up.

The news broke 3 months later. Carry's body was found, confirming her fears. The child had suffered unimaginable abuse before her death which coroners showed lasted years. The parents came clean when arrested revealing this child never received love in her her life. The newstory was national news for the deep level of trauma this little girl endured.

As time passed, Blueberry's eyes slowly lost their human-like quality, becoming more feline. Lily often wondered about the kitten's past life... if such a thing existed. Was Blueberry a reincarnation? Was Lily the karma of a loving home and family Cary never got? The truth remained elusive, but one thing was clear: in her home, Blueberry would find nothing but love, a stark contrast to the horrors it might have witnessed or endured.

Lily never spoke of the incidents, but she knew, Blueberry, with its now catlike eyes, still watched her with an intensity that spoke of deeper understanding. In her heart, Lily believed she was not just a pet owner but a guardian, giving back love to a soul that had known only pain. And in that quiet, loving exchange, perhaps, there was some measure of redemption for the unspeakable past.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/mclarke77 on 2024-09-14 03:14:44+00:00.

---

The nightmare started over a month ago when I heard my husband mumble, “He’s standing in the garden. He’s looking in the window”. It must have been two in the morning. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. You could set your watch by him. At that time my sleep had been  disturbed regularly by Daryl’s sleepwalking and sleep-talking. And sometimes sleep-yelling. He’d never done anything like that before. It had just started out of the blue about three days prior to that night. That night, when he was whispering. Mumbling while he dreamt. His voice was low and hushed, “He’s trying to get inside.” I couldn’t help but look over at the curtained windows. I imagined that if I pulled the curtains aside I’d see a ghostly hand pressed up on the windowpane.  

 

The little hairs on my neck stood on end.  

 

I shook my husband awake. He jolted like he’d just tripped over something and his eyes shot open. He breathed heavily but quickly came to. “Was I talking again?” he asked, out of breath. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Yea, it just keeps getting creepier.” My eyes were wide. He looked over at me, his face tired. “Was it the guy in the garden?” I nodded. “Yea, you said he was trying to look through the windows.” He rubbed his eyes and replied, “I can’t remember really. It’s so vivid while I’m asleep but as soon as I’m awake it just slips away.” I rubbed his arm, trying to comfort him. “Let’s try and get back to bed. We need to pick up Jacob early.” He nodded and got out of bed to fetch some water and a melatonin pill. I drank the rest of some cold chamomile tea I’d not finished the night before. Then we went back to bed. It was about three in the morning when we fell back to sleep. 

 

At seven o’clock the next morning my alarm rang loud and shrill. I kept my eyes closed as I fumbled for it and hit the snooze button. By seven thirty we were up and on our way to the train station. Jacob was waiting for us with a large suitcase and an old, worn backpack. Jacob was our nephew. He was a scrawny guy with dark brown hair and bright green eyes. Jacob had just started his final year at university and was studying zoology. He was considering starting veterinary school after his bachelor’s degree was done and was visiting schools around the country. Daryl and I lived near a large veterinary hospital and school so Jacob had come by to see if it was any good. He knew we were in the area and so he’d decided to stay with us in the meantime. His eyes were dark and exhausted as we pulled up. “How was the train?” I asked as he climbed into the back seat. Daryl loaded Jacob’s suitcase into the trunk and got back into the driver’s seat. “Delayed. And uncomfortable. I was just managing to get some sleep right as I arrived. Figures.” Jacob said, his voice irritable and feeble. 

 

“Well you can get plenty of rest at the house. It’s quiet at the moment with everyone away for the holidays. The family of four next door is in Ecuador.” We continued to chat as Daryl drove us home. Jacob mentioned he was excited to check out the school and would leave to take a tour the next day. I asked Daryl to drive him but Jacob said he’d rather take the bus so he could get to know the area better.  

 

The day after that was Sunday so we slept in and had breakfast food for lunch. After that, Jacob left for the bus stop. Daryl and I did some chores and then we sat down to read. The air was peaceful and quiet. I remember it was the last time I had felt relaxed. Felt normal and comfortable in my own home. The day had been warm and bright and sunbeams illuminated small motes of dust in the air. Pretty soon Daryl and I both fell asleep on the couch, leaning against one another. Suddenly there was a loud shout and I sat up my eyes wide and suddenly very awake. Daryl was sitting up straight his chest heaving heavily with breath. “That – that was a bad one,” he panted. “What happened? Why did you shout?” I asked my hand on my chest. “I was dreaming. About that guy again. Except he wasn’t alone this time. This time he was with a woman. They were standing just outside.” He turned to look at the window. “They - They were throwing roc-” Out of nowhere there was the deafening shatter of glass. 

 

I yelled. 

 

Daryl leapt to his feet in fright. 

 

I glanced down at the floor. 

 

Among a pile of broken glass lay a single rock. It was small, dark and smooth as glass. As soon as I looked at it I felt a cold trail of gooseflesh  run down my neck and arms. There was something so unnatural about that rock. It looked artificially polished. Daryl and I ran to the window, carefully avoiding the shards. There was nothing outside save my front yard. My petunias and crane lilies waved gently in the breeze. No one was standing there. The air was thick with silence. All the neighbors were still away on holiday.  

 

Daryl and I looked at one another, our eyes searching each other’s expressions for some kind of explanation. I was hoping Daryl would declare himself the mastermind of this terrifying practical joke. But no confessions came. “Must be kids playing a prank” he said as he cleaned the glass and tossed the stone into the yard. But his face was still white and his hands trembled. He wasn’t quite convinced.  

 

Later that same evening Jacob returned from his sightseeing and was thrilled. We decided not to tell Jacob about what had happened and Daryl, being a very proficient engineer, had already replaced the window pane that afternoon. Jacob couldn’t stop going on about the facilities and the local cafes. We were happy for him as we ordered pizza and watched some silly romcoms.  

 

We all went to bed at around midnight. As I lay in bed and turned off my light I couldn’t help but look over at the curtained windows momentarily. The curtains hung ruby red and still as stone. Was there someone standing outside? I shivered as I rolled over in bed and cuddled up close to my husband. I was glad to have my back to the window.  

 

I felt like I’d just closed my eyes when I was disturbed. I had turned over while half asleep and found myself suddenly alone in bed. It’s always disconcerting to find yourself unexpectedly alone in the middle of the night. At first, my face still buried in a pillow, I figured Daryl was on the toilet. As I rolled over and opened my eyes I noticed a figure standing at the foot of our bed. It was Daryl. I jumped from fright and yelped. “My God Daryl, you frightened me!” I said as I clutched my chest and breathed hard. “What are you doing standing there?” I asked.  

 

Daryl did not stir.  

 

His back still faced me.  

 

He seemed to be staring at the curtains in front of him. Then he spoke and it filled me with terror. “They’re outside. They’re calling.” He said, his voice flat and vacant. He was sleep-talking again. And now he was sleepwalking. I felt my stomach fill with boiling lead. “Come back to bed” I said shakily as I slowly sat up. Something wasn’t right. “They’re outside. They’re coming.” His voice sounded slurred. Like he’d been drinking. Daryl took a few quick steps toward the window. I felt my heart skip a beat. I ripped the duvet off my legs but as my feet touched the floor there was a tremendous smash. I screamed as the window to my right shattered into a thousand pieces. The sudden commotion made me lose my balance and I fell on the ground hard. I felt a frigid gust howl through the broken window. “What –“ I didn’t get a chance to finish speaking before the window in front of Daryl exploded too. The wind that blasted through was so strong and cold it forced my eyes closed. My teeth began to chatter. How was it suddenly so cold? “D-Daryl?” the wind died down and I opened my eyes.  

 

Daryl was gone.  

 

My mind felt empty. My limbs were heavy. Confusion washed over me. “Daryl?” I said again. The wind had vanished and the chill in the air had retreated completely. I slowly stood. My eyes searched the ground for signs of another rock. But there was nothing. I walked up to the closest smashed window. When I looked outside all I saw was my garden shrouded in darkness. The half-moon was obscured by wispy clouds. “What?” I whispered, unable to comprehend what had just happened. I suddenly heard a hoarse whisper behind me, “Aunty Valerie. What’s going on?” I spun around to see the dark silhouette of Jacob standing in my bedroom doorway. I could just make out the look of worry on his face. “I’m not sure. Your Uncle is missing. I’m not sure what happened. The windows. They broke. I think I need to call the police.” I hurried over to my phone and called 911. 

 

Within fifteen minutes two exhausted looking police officers arrived and took my statement. I trembled as I spoke. I told them everything. I told them about my husband’s dreams. I told them about the smashed window from the afternoon and I also showed them the mess in my bedroom. They were sympathetic and offered to drive me to the hospital for a checkup. I declined. I just needed rest. They told me not to worry. That my husband probably hadn’t gotten far. That he must have broken the windows in his sleep.  When I tried to tell them there was no way my husband broke the windows one of the cops said, “Look, people can do weird and out of character things while sleepwalking. We once had to go fetch some teenage kid from some park in the middle of the night. He was up some tree and refused to climb down. He’d done it all in his sleep.” They said they’d look around the area and let me know if they found him. ...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/MemoryStormSurfer on 2024-09-14 00:57:54+00:00.

---

I never thought I'd be writing something like this, but I'm desperate for help or advice. I don't know if anyone will believe me, but I need to share what happened.

It all started when my Aunt Meredith died a few months ago. The night she passed, I had this vivid nightmare. I was climbing an endless staircase in a house that kept growing taller. Every time I thought I reached the top, a new floor would appear. My legs ached, my lungs burned, but I couldn't stop climbing. I knew that if I did, I'd fall all the way down, back to where I started. I woke up gasping for air, my phone ringing with news of Aunt Meredith's death.

After our parents passed years ago, my sister Emily spiraled down a dark path for a few years, leaving me to forge a bond with Aunt Meredith, who rented a small apartment in the city back then. I spent countless evenings with her, sharing tea and stories while gently petting her cat, Willis.

The reading of Aunt Meredith's will was a shock. Emily inherited a house none of us knew existed, while I got Willis. The injustice of it burned - Emily, who barely called Aunt Meredith except for money, got a home, while I, despite my decent job, remained trapped in an overpriced shoebox apartment. With the housing market as insane as it is, owning a home felt like an impossible dream for me. Our resulting fight over this uneven inheritance left us estranged for months.

Then, last night, my phone lit up at 2 AM with Emily's name.

"Liz?" Emily's voice trembled on the other end. "I need you to come over. To the house."

The house. That dilapidated two-story in a forgettable neighborhood, with its peeling paint and overgrown yard. The house that should have been mine – or so I'd childishly thought. I swallowed my pride and the bitter taste of jealousy.

"Em, it's the middle of the night. What's going on?"

"Please," she whispered. "I... I want you to have it. The house. Just come."

I was silent for a moment, then scoffed, "So you're calling me at 2 AM to tell me you want to give me the house you wouldn't even let me rent a room in a few months ago? Are you using again?" The irritation in my voice was palpable.

"No!" She clamored. "Just come over. Please." Each word sounded like it was being dragged over broken glass.

"I'll come over later today, I promise–"

"I need you now," she cut me off, her voice rising to a near-shriek. I could hear her crying, gasping on the verge of hyperventilating.

My mind and anxiety raced. What if she was using and alone on a bad trip, riddled with guilt over taking the house instead of sharing it with me? Or what if she was having a panic attack, realizing she couldn't take care of the place or afford it? Could she be in sleep-deprived psychosis and need help?

I sighed heavily. "Okay, I'm on my way."

The drive over was a blur of streetlights and confusion -- and as I pulled up to the curb, I had to double-check the address. This couldn't be right. The dilapidated two-story I remembered first seeing a few months ago had transformed. Fresh paint gleamed in the moonlight, the yard was immaculately manicured, and there was even a new porch swing. It looked like it had been plucked from a home renovation show.

Still, as I approached, a chill ran down my spine. Even though the house looked beautiful, shadows seemed to writhe across the facade, the darkness of them unnaturally deep. The air felt thick, oppressive, carrying a coppery scent that made my stomach churn.

I found the front door ajar. "Emily?" My voice seemed swallowed by the musty air. Stepping inside, I was struck by the interior. Modern furniture clashed with antique fixtures. Sleek, minimalist pieces sat beside ornate, centuries-old decorations. It was as if the house couldn't decide which era it belonged to.

I kept walking as the floorboards creaked ominously under my feet. "Emily!?" I called again.

"Up here." Her voice drifted down from upstairs, oddly flat.

As I crept up the stairs, I felt like I was wading through molasses. Family portraits hung on the wall, their eyes following my ascent. Each step up felt heavier than the last, dizziness washed over me, and whispers just below audibility swirled around my head.

When I reached the top, I saw Emily standing at the end of the hallway, her back to me.

"Em? What's going on?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She turned slowly, and I barely stifled a scream. It looked like Emily, but her eyes were wrong – too dark, too empty. When she smiled, it stretched unnaturally wide across her face.

"Oh, Liz," Not-Emily said, her voice a chorus of others. "I'm so glad you came. We've been waiting for you."

I stumbled backward, my back hitting the hallway wall. Picture frames rattled, accompanied by what sounded like children's laughter.

"What... what are you talking about? Where's Emily? Where's my real sister?"

Not-Emily's grin widened impossibly further. "Emily is here. We're all here. And soon, you'll–"

I ran before Not-Emily could even finish the last sentence. Blind with terror, I crashed down the stairs, slamming into walls as I desperately sought the exit. Behind me, I heard a cacophony of voices – some calling my name with hungry eagerness, others screaming for help.

As I burst through the front door, I heard Emily's voice – her real voice – call out from somewhere deep within the house. "Liz, help me! Don't leave me here!"

I froze on the porch, torn between self-preservation and the need to save my sister. In that moment of hesitation, I felt something cold brush against my ankle. I looked down to see a tendril of shadow coiling around my leg, trying to pull me back inside. With a scream, I wrenched myself free, stumbling onto the neatly manicured lawn.

As I caught my breath, I felt a familiar nudge against my leg. Willis? How did he get here? His eyes gleamed in the darkness, and he meowed insistently, looking back at the house. It was almost as if he was urging me to go back in.

Heart pounding, I heard Emily's continued screams for help, and I realized I couldn't leave my sister. I had to find her. I ran back inside, and I followed her voice, dodging grasping shadows and whispers that grew teeth.

I found her in the attic surrounded by dust-covered relics and dozens and dozens of mirrors. As I reached for Emily's hand, I noticed her skin was pale, almost translucent. Her eyes, once warm brown, now reflected the room like polished glass.

Not-Emily's voice echoed around us, seeming to come from every reflective surface. As she spoke, her mouth moved a fraction of a second after the words, like a badly dubbed film:

"Oh, Liz. Aunt Meredith always said you had your father's eyes." Her head tilted at an impossible angle, neck stretching unnaturally. "Come, see for yourself. These mirrors don't just reflect us; they receive us."

The temperature in the attic plummeted. My breath came out in visible puffs as Not-Emily continued, her smile widening beyond the confines of her face:

"We're the legacy this house inherits, piece by piece, generation after generation." As she spoke, I saw flickers of other faces superimposed over hers – men, women, children, all wearing the same grotesque smile. "The family album is always expanding, and there's a frame waiting just for you."

"Emily!" I grabbed her ice-cold hand, but as we turned to flee, the attic door slammed shut. One ancient-looking mirror began to ripple like disturbed water, and the floor beneath us softened and shifted. I leapt for the door, but Emily sank into the now-liquid wood, her eyes wide with terror.

The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed my sister was her reflection in the mirror, now calm and serene, taking its place among the house's eternal residents.

I managed to wrench the attic door open and tumble down the stairs, my heart pounding in my ears. I didn't stop running until I was in my car, speeding away from that cursed place.

As I sit here typing this, I'm shaking. I don't know what to do. Emily's not just trapped there; she's become a part of that monstrous dwelling. I can't go to the police - they'd never believe me. I'm going to start researching, try to find a way to end this. But I'm scared. What if I can't stop it? What if I go back and become part of the "family portrait"?

I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight, but I am comforted that Willis is here snuggling next to me. Still, as I look at him, I can't help but wonder... why did Aunt Meredith leave him to me in her will?

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/RoseBlack2222 on 2024-09-13 20:20:08+00:00.

---

It's September which means it's nearly my favorite season, Fall. Yes, the scorching heat is at last cooling down to a nice middling temperature until the winter chills set in. All the back-to-school supplies have given way to autumn decor such as fake pumpkins, rubber masks, lawn inflatables, and monster animatronics. Speaking of back to school, a bonus is seeing fewer children during the week. Look, I don't have anything against kids, provided they are a minimal distance of fifty feet from me, but when they are running around, screaming while their parents have this vacant look in their eyes, that's when I have a problem.

If you happen to disagree, spend a few years working retail at Walmart like I have and see if you don't change your tune. In fairness, that's only scratching the surface of the problems going on in those stores. As bad as that can be, it's harmless most of the time, only ever going into the “make me want to rip my hair out in frustration territory”. I can't say the same about what happened today.

I work in customer service. Being Friday, things were busier than usual for us. Our manager, Dell, is the superstitious type and he was adamant that we keep our eyes peeled for trouble since it's also the thirteenth. While hectic, nothing out of the ordinary happened. That is until we got one particular customer. 

 My coworker, Steve and I were holding down the fort, trying to help customers as best we could. I was currently having my ear talked off on the phone.

“I've been a loyal shopper at Walmart for over thirty years!”(He's already mentioned this several times)

“I understand, sir.” 

“Things used to be great there until your generation decided to screw things up!”

“I'm sorry you feel that way. Is there anything we can do to make it up to you?”

He went on a tirade that I wasn't paying much attention to since it had nothing to do with the conversation. From what I remember, it was about “those damn Democrats running this country into the ground”, several bigoted statements against minorities, how prayer should be back in schools, and that certain people need to go back where they came from. I should mention he was insistent about how “not racist” he was.  I think there may have also been something in there against how Communists have infiltrated the government. The call dropped, making me momentarily grateful upper management hadn't sent anyone out to fix the phones.

“Thank Christ,” I breathed, putting the phone down.

“Tough call?” Steve asked, unwrapping a piece of gum.

“Yup.”

“I feel you on that. Any plans after work?”

“I’m going to be watching a horror movie.”

“Which one?”

“It's called Teke Teke.”

“Is that Japanese?”

“Yeah, it's an urban legend about a girl who became a ghost after her legs were cut off by a train and there are two movies about it.”

Steve popped the gum in his mouth.

“Sounds pretty cool,” he said while chewing.

“Do you want to come over and watch them?”

“Maybe.”

At that moment, Dell came over, a panicked look on his face.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“Upper management is here,” he replied breathlessly.

“What?” we exclaimed in unison.

“Someone getting karts said he's parked outside. I knew something bad was going to happen today. I just knew it!”

All things considered, Dell is decent at his job, but when he gets overwhelmed it's like watching a caffeinated hamster running around its cage. He stopped and took a deep breath.

“Okay, we can do this. Be vigilant. Steve, spit out that gum.”

Dell went away to check on the other departments. Rolling his eyes, Steve pulled out one of the trash baskets we keep behind the counter, spitting his gum into it. There tends to be a disconnect between corporate and those who have to interact with people face to face. As such, inspections tend to go as follows. They tell us to jump and if we come back down without their permission, we get reprimanded.

Our strategy is to remain as scarce as possible. Usually, this works. Today was another story. Things were going steady, all things considered, then the horde came. Normally, these are seen further into the holiday season. However, it seems that Dell was right about how Friday The 13th would be affecting things. 

I was playing Pokémon Go on my phone when Steve nudged me with his elbow. I glanced up, seeing a herd of customers who weren't too happy based on their expressions. They seemed ready to take their anger out on us hence why we refer to them as hordes. 

“Aw shit,” I murmured.

Then she came. Looks of surprise were coming over people's faces. Someone was pushing their way to the front. We craned our next, trying to spot who was trying to cut their way to the front. To our confusion, a pointy black hat became visible among the crowd. 

Attached to it and emerging to the front was an old lady in a baggy black dress with a long hook nose. People tried to tell her off. She gave them such a fierce stink eye they backed away instantly and dispersed. Then she came up to the counter. 

“Hello, ma'am,” Steve said. “Is there something we can help-”

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled something out, slamming it down on the counter. It was a cat collar.  Then she threw a one hundred dollar gift card beside it.

A few seconds of silence passed, then Steve asked, “Do you want to make a return?”

“I want more than that for the trouble this store has given me!”

She explained that the adjuster was faulty and that the collar nearly choked her cat.

“I tried calling and it just kept ringing!”

“Apologies, ma'am, it's been a hectic day. We'll do what we can to make this up to you.”

“Is that so?”

A grin crept up her face, showing rows of deep yellow, misshapen blocky teeth.

“I think I deserve a little extra for all my trouble. Give me this gift card for free and we'll call things even.”

The thing about the customer always being right is that it goes off a cliff if the store's bottom line might be affected.

“Well, I need to check with my manager if I am allowed to do that.”

Steve went away to call Dell. Meanwhile, sending a growing tension, I attempted to diffuse it.

“Hey, great costume,” I told the old lady, “are you getting ready for Halloween early?”

She seemed confused.

“What costume?”

“The one you're wearing. You're dressed as a witch, right?”

Her eyes narrowed.

“I'm not dressed like I am a witch.”

“Oh, I see, my bad.”

She relaxed a little.

“I do have a lot of preparations to make for the upcoming holiday now that you mention it. Where's your friend?”

“Sorry about that, our manager is busy.  I can't reach him,” Steve said, returning from his call. “I'm normally not supposed to do this without permission, but I can help you out this one time.” 

The old lady seemed satisfied with that response. Steve was about to activate the gift card when we heard someone speaking with Dell.

“Everything is up to standard so far. Which way is customer service again?”

“This way, sir.”

With Dell was our distract manager, Edmund who looks a lot like Kevin O'Leary. He's the kind of guy who thinks the company standard should be rigidly enforced. In short, doing the opposite of what he says would likely improve store experience. They saw what was happening and came over.

“Good afternoon, miss,” Dell smiled and told the old lady, “I hope your needs are being met.”

“Yes, I suppose they are. These two are taking care of something for me,” she replied, gesturing at us. “At least some people can do something right in this dump.”

“Well, it's nice to hear from a customer that our employees are on top of things. Out of curiosity, what are they helping you with?”

Steve was tapping his fingers on the counter. He only did that when he was nervous. I could tell he was thinking, “Please, don't mention the gift card”.

She did exactly that, prompting Steve to curse under his breath. At the mention of it, Edmund decided to get involved.

“Now, hold on,” he said to the woman. “How much did you pay for that collar?”

“Fifteen.”

“And how much is the gift card you want worth?”

“A hundred dollars.”

Edmund looked at Steve.

“You authorized this without permission?”

Steve may as well have been a deer in headlights.

“What were you thinking?” Edmund chastised him. 

“I was just trying to do the right thing-” Steve replied before being cut off.

“The right thing within reason. I thought you would have figured that out by now.”

The old lady interjected.

“Wait a moment. Are you saying I won't get my gift card?”

“Yes, that's what it means, sorry to say.”

Her eyes erupted with anger.

“I came out here and waited all this time!”

Not accustomed to dealing with other human beings, Edmund disregarded her, trying to pass her onto Dell. She didn't take too kindly to that.

“You respect your elders when they are talking to you!”

Edmund ignored her and was about to walk away. The woman crossed her arms.

“If that's what you want, we'll play hardball. I will give you one chance to change your mind about the gift card or there will be hell to pay.”

His response conveyed he wasn't the least bit intimidated.

“The answer is still no.”

She pointed a shaking finger at him.

“I warned you!”

Suddenly, her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she began chanting.

“I think she's having an episode,” Edmund snorted.

That seemed to be the case until the lights started flickering. An uneasy feeling worked its way up my back. T...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/No_Cockroach_8165 on 2024-09-13 23:44:38+00:00.

---

"I didn't choose the van life the van life chose me." Something I said often as it was the outro to all my YouTube videos. I've been living in my van for roughly eight months and I'm done after this. The day was like any other day. I woke up and started my boring antisocial life I loved so much. I edited a few videos, ate some leftover meatloaf, and played some video games, you know the basics. I parked the van on the side of a camp ground up near the Colorado Rockies. It was getting late and I wanted to use what sunlight I had left to set up camp. The snow was pretty low at that point, probably from a snowfall a few days prior. I got out my firepit and got a little fire going. I was the only vehicle at the car lot, but I guess that didn't seem weird because it was in the middle of nowhere. As the night grew near, I received a warning on my radio about a blizzard that was due to hit in the next hour. I put my things away and got into my van, bracing for the blizzard. I wasn't to worried as I had a propane heater inside the van incase it got to cold.

The blizzard hit and it hit hard. The wind rocking my van snow covering the windows and sealing me inside the van. I panicked a little ill be honest, the thought of freezing to death flooding my thoughts. I remember laying in bed with my blankets wrapped around me and dozing off. at some point it got really quiet, so quiet it woke me up. I figured the wind had died down and it finally settled so I sat up. I wondered if I should go assess the situation and see how bad it was. Id say it went on for about 3 hours so it got pretty deep. I decided to make some coffee and warm up before I went out. I started to get dressed and put on my boots. Just as I pull up my boot a noise catches my attention. What sounds like something trotting through deep snow is making its way towards my van. Heavy footsteps approach from what I figure was about 30 yards out. I don't move a muscle, even my breath slowed down to basically nothing. My body was riddled with goosebumps as fear pulsed through me. My first thought was moose, but then there's also bears out here. I couldn't see anything thru the thick snow lining my windows. The footsteps were about 10 yards away at this point still making their way towards me.

My body begins to shake violently. I'm not sure if it was from the cold or the fear but I couldn't stop. I could hear what sounded like humming coming from the direction of the noises. It was very low and didn't really sound like anything I knew. It was getting closer and closer, the humming and footsteps were about 5 yards away now and I was almost certain this was no moose or bear. The footsteps stop right outside the rear of my van. The only windows I have are the front seat windows so I cant see anything out of the rear. A voice breaks the silence cold and small.

"Hello in there, may I have a word with you." It said in a voice from what sounded like a little girl.

I almost melted into the ground at that point. My body was absolutely trembling, sweat pouring out from all over my body. Terror doesn't describe the feeling I had at that moment in time. I remained silent, refusing to utter even a breath. Now I really knew it wasn't an animal. First of all that walking sounded way to heavy to be a little girl. Its almost 1am right after a bad blizzard and its out in the middle of no where. No weapon or anything really to defend myself with, I felt absolutely helpless.

"Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you I just need help." It said.

"Please do not ignore me, Its very rude." It said in a slightly deeper tone.

"Y.. I.. wh..." I spit out not being able to talk from the terror I was in.

"Is there a problem?" It asked.

I slowly picked my head up and looked at the back of the van. I gulped, took a deep breath, and forced out what little I could say.

"What's the problem?" I said thru chattering teeth.

"No not a problem, I just wanted to ask if you had a tooth for me." It said.

"A tooth?" I thought to myself.

"You need a tooth?" I asked the voice.

"Yes, Just a tooth." It asked happily.

My mind was in a million different places at this point. Who the hell was I talking to? What did they want with a tooth. Was this some sort of monster you hear about in some travel channel show? I wasn't really sure what it was, but I was afraid nonetheless. I began to reason with myself. Maybe another car pulled up and I didnt realize it and they wanted to play a prank on me because they recognize the van.

"I don't have a tooth, can you please go away this isn't funny." I said

The sweet voice that asked so kindly for a tooth moments ago, changed almost immediately into a twisted dark deep voice like some kind of demon.

"Give me one of your teeth willingly, or I will rip the teeth from your skull one by one!" It yelled.

I began to search thru my van for a weapon, something I could fight this thing with if I had to. All I had was a hammer that was stashed under the engine hood in the front seat. I raised the hood and grabbed the hammer. I stood in the van, hammer in hand like some dollar store Thor. I turned around and that when I remembered the shark tooth hanging from my visor. I ripped the tooth from the visor and went to the back of the van.

"I have a tooth for you." I said body still shaking uncontrollably from the adrenaline.

"THROW IT OUT NOW!" It yelled again so loud it shook the van.

I slid the van door open only to be met with a wall of snow. I stuffed the tooth into the snow and slid the door closed and locked it. A loud bang on the back doors and a loud scratch followed all the way from the back to the side door and stopped.

"Thanks for the tooth." It said back in the little sweet voice from before.

The humming began again and the loud heavy footsteps made their way away from my van. I curled up in the fetal position on the ground of the van until I couldn't hear the footsteps anymore. I jumped up turned the engine over on my van and began to let it heat up. I sat for about 15 minutes and started the van up and began to drive back home from my last day as a van life youtuber. I'm still not sure what to chalk it up to but I don't see myself going around the Rockies again ever.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/ConsiderationTop4315 on 2024-09-13 15:35:07+00:00.

---

I always hated night shifts, but the pay was good, and the station was always quiet after 2 a.m. That’s when the last train would leave, and the place would descend into an eerie stillness. The kind that makes you feel like you’re the only person left in the world.

Two weeks ago, something changed.

It was a Tuesday — I remember because my girlfriend was mad at me for missing our ‘date night.’ I sat in the control booth, watching the flickering lights of the empty platform when I saw him. A man in a dark coat, standing perfectly still at the far end of the station. At first, I thought he was waiting for a train, but no trains were scheduled. He just stood there, head bowed, face obscured by the shadows.

I glanced away for just a moment, and when I looked back, he was gone. I shrugged it off as some poor soul looking for shelter. People did that sometimes. But then, a few nights later, he was back. Same spot. Same stance. I felt a chill run down my spine, but I didn’t want to overthink it. Night shifts do weird things to your mind.

That night, I left the booth and decided to check things out. My footsteps echoed loudly as I walked down the platform. I called out, "Hey! Station's closing up!" But he didn’t move. As I got closer, I realized there was something odd about him. His clothes looked outdated, like they were from another era. And his hands… they were too pale, almost translucent under the flickering lights.

When I was about 10 feet away, he turned his head slowly. My breath caught in my throat. His face… it wasn’t quite right. It was almost as if his skin was stretched too tight over his skull, eyes too wide, mouth too thin, as if drawn on with a shaking hand. And then he smiled. Not a friendly smile, but one that seemed to say, “I know you.”

I took a step back, and in that moment, the station lights flickered and went out. Just for a second. When they came back on, he was gone. The platform was empty again. I checked the CCTV footage later, and there was nothing there — no sign of him at all.

This continued for days. Every night, he would appear, always at the same time, always in the same spot, and always disappearing the moment I got too close. I started losing sleep, feeling like he was watching me even when I was at home. My girlfriend said I looked like a ghost myself.

Then, last night, things took a turn for the worse.

I was in the booth, fighting to keep my eyes open, when the radio crackled to life. Static filled the air, but through it, I could make out a faint whisper: “Last stop… last stop…” My blood ran cold. I looked at the platform, and there he was again. Only this time, he was closer. Much closer. Just standing outside the control booth door, staring right at me.

I panicked, fumbling with the radio to call for backup. But the moment my hand touched the dial, the lights went out again. Total darkness. I felt a presence behind me, a cold breath on the back of my neck, and then… nothing.

When the lights flickered back on, I was alone. The booth door was wide open, the cold air blowing in from the platform. I checked the cameras. No sign of him, but I noticed something else. On the floor of the booth, right where he had been standing, was a single, wet footprint. Just one.

I’m writing this from the station now. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared. I can’t quit — I need this job. But I feel like I’m being watched, and every night, he gets closer.

I don’t know what he wants, but if you don’t hear from me again, remember this: if you ever see a man in a dark coat standing alone at the last stop, don’t approach him. Just… turn around, and leave.

Because once he sees you, he never stops looking.

And the last stop is closer than you think.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/witch-plz on 2024-09-13 22:33:55+00:00.

---

For context, I’m a single, paranoid 22-year-old woman living in a small city. A lot of ladies out there will know the drill - I walk home from parties with my keys clenched between my fingers, scanning the street like I’m in a crime drama. I’ve always been cautious (borderline neurotic), but lately, something’s been different and it’s hard to describe. It’s like someone’s been walking behind me, but it doesn’t feel creepy. It’s more like… they’re just there.

It started about a week ago - I had my headphones in, music low, and I was walking through the park like I usually do. Everything felt normal until I noticed the footsteps. These were slightly out of sync with my own walk, just enough that it couldn’t be my echo.

Naturally, I glanced around... and found nothing. The path was empty. Just trees, streetlights, and silence. I tried to brush it off as my imagination or paranoia, but something continued to just feel off. The air seemed heavier and the shadows around me darker and thicker.

Sometimes the dark can play tricks on you. I told myself I was overreacting. But then it happened again the next night... That same feeling of somebody following me just out of sight. I’d turn around, and of course, there was nothing out of the ordinary there. But the footsteps never stopped. They kept pace with mine... always right behind me.

And I know what you’re thinking - any rational person would call a taxi or pick another route home, right? I should’ve been scared, but I wasn’t. There was something about it that felt... almost innocent? Maybe even comforting, if that makes any sense.

One night, though, I decided to test it. I sped up. So did the footsteps. The faster I walked, the faster they got and suddenly I'm running to my flat, slamming the door shut behind me.

And that’s when I heard it.

A voice. Faint, muffled, like it was coming from just outside my door. But I swear I heard it say, “I followed you home.”

I didn’t open the door. Not until morning, when I had to leave for work. By then, I convinced myself I’d imagined it. Stress, maybe. Lack of sleep.

But the footsteps didn’t stop. That night, they were back, but they weren’t in a hurry. They just followed me, steady and quiet, like a shadow. And when I stopped at my door, I heard it again. The same soft voice, closer this time.

“I followed you home.”

Weirdly enough, I started getting used to it. I know how that sounds, but it never tried to hurt me and it wasn’t threatening... it just… wanted to be there, maybe? Some nights, I’d even talk to it absent-mindedly. Just a quiet whisper here and there... it was like I wasn’t walking home alone anymore. It didn’t respond, but I could hear it, shifting, like it was listening.

Last night, something changed. I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling it. Not just the presence, but something else. Warmer. Closer. I could hear breathing... soft, steady... right by my bed. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel.

This time, when I asked, “What do you want?” it answered.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why it chose me, or how long it’s been there, following me. But whatever it is, it doesn’t feel dangerous. It’s just… there, like it’s been waiting for someone to notice. Someone to let it stay.

And I guess, in a way, I have.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/anish026 on 2024-09-13 16:53:31+00:00.

---

I swear, the folder wasn’t there the night before.

I’m not the kind of guy who keeps a messy desktop. I’m almost obsessive about it. Clean folders, everything in its place. So, when I powered up my laptop that morning and saw a new folder sitting right there, bold and unassuming, I froze.

UnknownUser

That was the folder’s name.

At first, I thought maybe it was a prank. My friends are the tech-savvy type, and I’d left my laptop at their place a few days ago. Maybe they got drunk, installed some creepy software to mess with me. But it didn’t make sense; they wouldn’t go this far for a laugh.

I clicked on it.

Nothing.

It didn’t open, didn’t load, nothing changed on the screen. Just this weird moment of hesitation like the laptop itself was considering whether or not to let me in.

And then, a line of text appeared across the top of my screen.

You’ve been chosen.

I blinked. Was it a pop-up? A message from some app? Maybe a virus?

Before I could react, the folder disappeared.

Vanished. Like it was never there.

I leaned back in my chair, laughing nervously. Of course, it had to be a virus. Maybe I’d clicked something shady online. But as soon as I opened the browser to do a search, the screen flickered.

Don’t search. It’s pointless.

The words flashed across my screen in bold red letters. They lingered there, pulsing, as if the computer itself was taunting me.

I closed the browser window and immediately shut down the laptop. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. This wasn’t funny anymore. Maybe it was a hack, something serious. I grabbed my phone to call one of my friends.

Before I could dial, my phone lit up.

Unknown Number: “I told you, it’s pointless.”

I dropped the phone like it had burned me. There was no way someone was listening, right? But I couldn’t shake the feeling that my laptop, my phone—hell, maybe even my house—wasn't just compromised. It was watching me.

I didn’t touch my laptop for the rest of the day. I didn’t even open my phone. Every little noise made me jump—every creak in the walls, every gust of wind rattling the windows. By the time night rolled around, I convinced myself I was being paranoid. No one could hack a laptop that fast and interact with me in real time. It had to be some advanced phishing scam or something.

I decided I’d take the laptop to a professional in the morning. Until then, I needed sleep. I locked the laptop in a drawer and crawled into bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night to a soft, persistent sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was coming from the drawer where I’d locked my laptop.

I froze. The rational part of my brain told me it was just a random creak, maybe the house settling. But that tapping had a rhythm. It wasn’t random.

I got up slowly, heart hammering in my chest. The tapping continued, soft but steady, as I approached the drawer. I could see the faint glow of light coming from the seams.

My laptop was on.

I hadn’t left it on.

With trembling hands, I unlocked the drawer and pulled it out. The screen was bright, and there was a single file open. It was a text document.

“You can’t hide from me.”

Beneath that line was a series of photos. The first was of me, sitting at my desk, staring at my laptop from earlier that morning.

The second was of me in bed, tossing and turning, unaware of anything.

The third… was a picture of me standing right there, in front of the open drawer.

The laptop clicked off before I could react.

By now, I was convinced someone had hacked my webcam or installed malware. But that didn’t explain how it seemed to know where I was, even when the laptop was off.

I unplugged the computer and removed the battery. If someone was controlling it remotely, that would stop them, right? Yet, even as I did, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t alone. My eyes kept darting to the corners of the room, as if expecting to see someone—or something—standing in the shadows.

That’s when I noticed the new sound.

A faint buzzing. Not from the laptop, but from my phone.

My screen was lighting up again, over and over, as if someone was calling. I picked it up with shaking hands. A new number this time, but the same message appeared on the lock screen.

I see you.

I tried turning the phone off, but it wouldn't respond. It just kept buzzing in my hand like it was alive. Then, before my eyes, a new message appeared, this time from my own number.

“It’s too late. You’re already part of the game.”

My vision blurred. I had to sit down before I collapsed. My heart was racing so fast I thought I might pass out. This wasn’t normal. This was something else—something I didn’t understand, and no amount of logic could explain.

That’s when the voices started.

They were faint at first, barely whispers, but growing louder with each passing second. I couldn’t make out the words, just a constant stream of unintelligible noise. I clutched my head, trying to block them out, but they wouldn’t stop.

I slammed my phone into the wall, watching as it shattered into pieces. For a moment, the room was silent again. But the relief didn’t last long.

A soft chime echoed through the room.

My laptop, battery removed, still locked in the drawer, had powered itself on.

By now, I had to be losing my mind. I grabbed the laptop, fully prepared to smash it to pieces, but as I held it over my head, ready to throw it down, something caught my eye on the screen.

A video call had opened up. No name, just a black screen, as if whoever was on the other end was watching from the shadows. For a moment, I stood frozen, staring at the pixelated blackness. Then, slowly, a face began to emerge from the void.

My face.

But it wasn’t a reflection. It was me, standing in my living room. I watched as the figure on the screen raised its hand, mirroring my movements. But the smile on its face wasn’t mine. It was twisted, wrong, like a distorted version of myself.

Then, it spoke.

"Don’t you get it? This isn’t a hack. This isn’t some game you can win."

The figure on the screen leaned closer, filling the entire display with its face.

“I’m inside you now.”

For days after that, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. Every electronic device around me felt like it was pulsing with life, waiting to strike again. I trashed the laptop, bought a new phone, and even stayed at a hotel for a while, thinking I could escape whatever it was. But it didn’t matter. Everywhere I went, I felt that presence—watching, waiting, controlling.

It wasn’t long before I started seeing the figure in reflections—mirrors, windows, even in the glossy surface of a car. The twisted version of me, always lurking just out of reach, smiling that horrible smile. It didn’t speak again, but it didn’t have to. I knew what it wanted.

It was taking over.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. My mind is unraveling. I can barely tell what’s real anymore. Is this my hand typing these words, or is it his?

If you’re reading this, maybe you’ve already seen the signs. The strange messages, the eerie glitches, the reflection that doesn’t quite match. Maybe you think it’s just a virus, just some glitch in your system.

But it’s not.

They’re already inside. And soon, they’ll be coming for you.

Final Note:

The story you just read may seem like fiction, but be cautious the next time you notice something strange on your device. Sometimes, the things we rely on to connect us with the world can also connect us to something far more sinister.

Whatever you do, don’t open the folder. It’s already too late for me.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Jay_Tee13 on 2024-09-13 17:25:09+00:00.

---

If I had a dollar for every time I’d told the detectives this story, maybe I’d have enough to retire. Fly off to an island and drink my way to a not-so-early grave. I remember our last conversation well enough.

---

“Ok, buddy, we’re right here. If you hurry, we can hit the wave pool before we go.”

I ruffled Will’s hair, gave him a little push.

He folded his arms, defiant.

“The racing slide. It’s the funnest one.”

“Most fun,” I corrected. “And whatever you say, Willy.”

He nodded with a ‘hmph’, satisfied, and scurried off.

He weaved his way through the molasses of the crowd, splitting families and couples as he homed in on the dilapidated port-a-potty.

This was one of the few recent attempts Will had dared to use the bathroom all by himself. He was capping a good run, but being out of the house, I kept an eye on the door for any signs of distress.

Said it a hundred times; I would’ve noticed anyone coming or going. Maybe five seconds I looked away. Was that enough time for him to jump out? And, what, run off in the opposite direction?

About five minutes after he had gone, I got up. I leaned on a casual arm against the port-a-potty. In a whisper-shout over the drone of the few hundred happy pool-goers behind me:

“Buddy, its me. How’s it going in there?”

There was movement inside, I swear it. I swear it wasn’t my imagination, I heard something.

I turned and saw my wife; dip’n’dots in one hand and waving with the other. Can’t call it a day at the water park without ice cream.

I smiled and wrinkled my nose as a joke.

“Alright, Will, I’m coming in.”

The door was unlocked. I made an effort to open it as little as possible and slip inside.

I did a double take. Turned a full 360. Checked the neighboring port-a-potty and returned. No, he couldn’t have… I peered down, past the toilet seat. Log sized turds floated in the septic stew below.

“Will?”

I stepped outside and circled the port-a-potty.

“Will?” I called again.

My wife appeared next to me holding Lila’s hand.

“What happened, where’s Will?” she asked.

“I-I don’t know, he was inside. Lila, did you see him leave at all?”

My daughter shook her head, thrusting a spoonful of dots into her mouth.

“You were supposed to be watching him,” my wife said.

“I know!” I grabbed the arm of a man nearby, “Excuse me sir, did you see my son leave this port-a-potty here?”

I described Will in detail. He saw the desperation in my eyes but shook his head.

“Sorry. Try the lifeguard station. I’m sure this happens all the time.”

He wished us luck and I thanked him. My wife was beginning to cry. She was starting to scare Lila. I ran ahead, cutting through one of the splash pads and hopping the fence to the lifeguard station.

“Oh, excuse me, sir,” some acne-riddled teenager with a red and white uniform stood up from behind the desk. “You –”

“My son, I can’t find my son. Is there some announcement you can make, something?”

The teen closed his eyes. “Yea, give me one sec. I kind of new, so, I think –”

“I don’t have a second. If you can’t help, then get me a god-damned manager!” I snarled.

A petite girl, also in high school by the looks of it, turned the corner, oblivious to the nature of the conversation.

“Hey, you can’t talk to him like that,” she pouted. “There’s no need to be rude.”

I stabbed my finger at her, my temper at the end of its wick.

“I’ll be as rude as I damn-well like. Get me a fucking manager or I’ll go back there and find one.”

The police were called. Primarily, for me. I was screaming, knocking things over, “foaming at the mouth” my wife said. The cops said I would have to calm down or they’d handcuff me. They sent out an announcement over the park’s PA system.

“William, your parents are looking for you at the lifeguard station. If you can find a lifeguard, we can get you back together as soon as possible.”

“Don’t worry,” the lifeguard manager said. “We radio’d all our employees. He’ll be back in no time at all.”

As it turns out, lost and found children in places like these is fairly common.

The problem was, Will never turned up.

---

How do you go home after that? We stayed as long as we could, but it’s not like we could sleep on the slides. So, the same day I left for the water park with my family, we returned, one short. Lila didn’t know what was happening. We told her Will had gotten lost and the police were looking for him. She asked why we weren’t looking for him. She began to cry.

The funny thing about humans is how simultaneously effective and ineffective we are at lying to ourselves. Because a deep part of yourself, something in your core where you know you can trust it, smells the bullshit. And yet we’ll take that lie and run, far as we can, until our legs give out or we crash face first into a wall.

After the first day, that piece of me in my core knew I’d never see Will again. But I ran like Hell. My lust for closure deflated my marriage like a water balloon with a leak. I was stupid to think I wouldn’t get laughed out of the court during custody proceedings.

But the one reprieve I had came yesterday. If I couldn’t have answers, if I couldn’t have my family or my son back, then I’d have some sweet revenge.

This last year, I’d been leading media campaigns, doing interviews, degrading myself to what I used to frown on and call an activist. All to destroy the water park that took my son.

The park was small, got a lot of bad press in the local outlets where most of their customers were. Apparently, this wasn’t the first incident in the park’s history, far from it actually, having a long list of lawsuits and scandals. But it was the last straw, and eventually, they were forced to close.

Yesterday, was the first day of the demolition. I watched it in person. One man audience. And it felt good.

 I was getting ready to leave around mid-day when a commotion in the site held me.

“Axe! Grab the axe!”

The crew was in mayhem, and advantageous to my curiosity, no one was around to stop me hopping the barrier to get a closer look.

“It’s dead. Stop, it’s dead!”

I was too far to see what the men were standing over and crept closer.

“Fucker, that’s a world record!”

“Call someone.”

“Who?”

“The police. Animal control, call someone, Christ’s sake.”

“Where did you find it?”

“In here!”

“Well go check it. Be careful, too.”

I felt my way along a bulldozer, close enough now, and stuck my head past the edge. The scene made my knees buckle. I couldn’t comprehend what I was looking at.

Dead, and covered in hacks and slash marks, was a python. Never mind a snake, it was the largest animal I’d even seen up close, long as a school bus, longer even, stretched out. Despite its size, it looked thin, as if it hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Tell me what happened,” one of the construction crew asked a younger member.

“W-we was using the machine and clearing the area like’s you said. Went and knocked over them port-a-potty’s and the dragon came, rearing its head. Out one of them holes beneath.”

The crew began to buzz, taking pictures of the beast and kicking it.

The construction man nodded and called for the worker who had gone to check the hole.

“Come on out. That’s a shit hole, nothing to find.”

“B-boss!”

The site fell silent.

“What is it?”

“There’s bones. There’s bones down here!”

---

I slept in the bathtub that night. Locked the door to the bathroom too. I don’t know. I just didn’t feel safe.

After all the pieces were collected, the bones they found belonged to 10 unique skeletons. It was a reticulated python, the invasive one, 26 feet long. Found the humidity of the park nice and chose a place it wouldn’t be found.

Headlined the local paper for a day before it was pulled. Previous owners of the park still had some influence in the area.

And what did I get. Closure? I would have rather been buried with my unanswered questions.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/ChristianWallis on 2024-09-13 16:44:17+00:00.

---

“Are they going to pump this out?” Alec asked as he stepped awkwardly into the flooded basement, the water rising to just a little below his knees.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Aren’t they renovating the place?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “It’s just this mural they’re after.”

“Well we’re gonna need it dry,” Alec grumbled. “Can’t run electricity down here like this. Gonna need it for the imaging equipment too.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Plus, God knows what’s in this water. Some of these tunnels must lead off to the catacombs.”

“You can’t be serious!” he cried, his flashlight suddenly snapping from one bare stone wall to another. “Are there actually bodies down here?”

“It’s a church,” I said. “They buried people here. Not recently but, yeah, it has catacombs. Don’t worry they’re not just stacked up like firewood in some room. There’s gates and stuff to stop people desecrating them.”

Alec shone his light at the water lapping around his feet and curled his lip. It was the colour of old coffee.

“I don’t know how anyone can expect us to work in these conditions.”

“For the money they’re paying, I’d work waist-deep in the Thames,” I told him. “The guy’s last painting sold for seven million. You know how excited the church was when they found out he’d been down here in the seventies? Whatever he put on the walls, they charged him with vandalism then. But now there’s money on the line, they want whatever he did restored, packed up, and sold.”

Alec huffed. “Where is the damn thing anyway?”

I stopped momentarily to get my bearings. 

“Down here.”

I waved him on and we delved deeper into the basement as I led us through a strange mix of large rooms and awkward tunnels carved directly into the rock, some of which you had to stoop just to fit in. Many of the rooms we passed had old boxes in them. One had furniture draped with once-white sheets that were now mouldy and stained. Another had an old piano, the lid still up. Thankfully it wasn’t far. A few minutes at most. Once we found the door, we both put our shoulders to it and forced it open. Water must have built up because it came pouring out at waist-height and nearly took us both of our feet. 

“Fucking stinks!” Alec cried over the roar of water, but I ignored him. Once it was safe, we stepped inside and it was as if our lights grew dimmer and the air colder. A distinct sense that we’d crossed a threshold. A long and empty room where the only sound was water dripping somewhere in the distance. I was about to suggest we’d taken a wrong turn, but then I saw one of the walls had been painted black. And there was something strange about it. 

It was only when you let your eye linger that you saw the brush strokes, each no thicker than my thumb. They covered every inch of it and caught the dim light of our torches, shimmering with brief flashes of iridescent colour that were impossible to focus on. The longer I looked the more I saw great depths in that work. The texture alone was remarkable, like you were up high and looking down on a vast stretch of unbroken ocean. Roiling waves made of slick black water. And the colour… The closest comparison is what you see when you close your eyes. The whole thing made my stomach churn, but there was no denying its artistic merit. The kind of thing I could imagine hanging on a wall in the Tate modern. No wonder the church wanted it restored and transferred out of the basement. But it would be no easy feat. It was huge.

“I don’t… I don’t feel too good.”

Alec wobbled momentarily before collapsing. I had to rush, but I managed to catch him before his head went beneath the water.

“Shit!” I hissed as I struggled to hold his weight with my arms beneath his shoulders. Panicking, I looked around for somewhere to put him but the room was empty. If I let him go he’d flop down and inevitably drown, but he was a big guy and my arms were already getting tired. I had no hope of making it all the way back to the stairs, but I remembered that room was nearby. The one with the furniture. It’d have to do in a pinch. Struggling to keep him upright, I dragged him slowly through the murky waters.

It wasn’t easy. While the ground was firm, it was still irregular and I was walking backwards through knee high water. My mind fluttered through all the possible outcomes of this situation and inevitably focused on the worst. He could drown. Get an infection. We could get lost. Those tunnels were tight and confusing. I could imagine it so very easily, the fear and panic of going around in circles. Rough hewn stone wrapping in on itself so that every turn takes me back to that place as my arms grow ever more tired. What would I do in that situation? I wondered. Would I let him drown? Or would I keep going until I collapsed from exhaustion? And how long would I last? A few hours? A day? Maybe more?

It was a silly idea, but it got my heart racing. Tried telling myself I had it under control. I had a plan. A good one. Get him upright in one of those old chairs. He’d probably just fainted because of the air down there. Maybe he was more sensitive to it than most. But while I tried to keep my eyes on him, watching for any signs of consciousness, I kept looking up at the tunnel ahead. With each step, the darkness felt heavier, and the lapping of the water grew so loud it seemed to almost hurt my ears. And yet at the same I could hear my every breath as clear as if I was standing in total silence. Without any real reason for it, a cold dread crept over me. I didn’t feel alone down there. No matter how hard I tried to dismiss it as a childish feeling, it just kept getting stronger. Each time I looked up, I expected to see something. God only knows what I thought would be waiting for me. But it didn’t matter. The mere thought there was something in the dark or lurking beneath the water was enough to make me hurry, even as I kept reminding myself that was a great way to make a mistake. 

Thank God it wasn’t far to the room with the furniture. There was no door, so I simply turned and plodded backwards until I saw a chair that looked good enough. Sure, it was disgusting and green with mould and mildew, but all it had to do was hold his weight. Alec is a good six inches taller than me and built heavier too, so by the time I lugged him onto the chair I was exhausted and had to stop and catch my breath. Hands on my knees. Entire body trembling. I took a few seconds to comfort myself before leaning over him and calling his name.

“Alec,” I cried. “Alec!” I gave him a few gentle pats on the face. He seemed to stir, but I couldn’t say for sure. “For fuck’s sake,” I hissed, hearing just the slightest hint of alarm in my voice and trying to suppress it. “Alec wake up and let’s get the hell out of–”

Someone pressed a key on the piano and everything inside me came to a screeching halt. It was dull and off-key, but there was no mistaking the sound that had come from the nearby room. The thought of there actually being someone else down there made my skin tight and my head ice cold. Took every ounce of willpower I had to stand upright and look towards the doorway.

“Mike!” Alec groaned and I damn near jumped out my skin. I don’t feel well.” he muttered while rubbing his face. “It’s so dark in here. I think I might be dreaming.”

As the initial shock left me I was flooded with relief at no longer being alone in that horrible place.

“You fainted,” I said with as friendly a laugh as I could manage. “Must be the air down here. We’ll need respirators from here on in.”

“I’m cold,” he moaned while pushing himself upright. “I want to go home. Can I go home please?”

“Damn right!” I said while taking his elbow and leading him to the exit. I felt a lot safer knowing it wasn’t just me facing the darkness, but I still found myself hesitating as we passed the next room along. 

“What is it?” Alec asked as I paused to look at the old piano.

“Nothing,” I muttered before hurrying us both along.

Someone had closed the lid.

“It’s like a different painting when photographed.” Marie pursed her lips as she looked at the camera display. “Something to do with how it catches the light?” She picked the tripod up and moved it several feet to her right. She pressed a button and the flash went off in the dark room like a bolt of lightning. For an instant the whole place was laid bare. Roughly hewn stone and stagnant water. “Look.” She called me over. “It happened again.”

I stopped my work setting up the fourth pump at the far end of the room and wandered over. So far I’d managed to pump out most of the water, but it still lay an inch thick along the ground. Of course the rest of the tunnels were still flooded. No hope there. So the room itself was sealed off. Sandbags at the only doorway with further waterproofing from rubber tarps. I’d since spent days trying to figure out where the last of the water in that one room was coming from, and had been so busy chasing leaks that I’d had to hire Marie to help with imaging.

“Looks funny.” I said as I leaned over her shoulder and looked at the latest picture. The wall appeared as an explosion of psychedelic colours. Closer to a tie-dye t-shirt than the black obelisk it was in-person. “But it’s a weird piece. Very textured, and the paint itself is quite unique. I’m not surprised it behaves strangely under a camera’s flash.”

“But look at it,” she said.

“I did,” I replied while wandering off, unwilling to stare too long. “It’s weird...

---

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1ffzco5/i_was_hired_to_restore_a_mural_in_an_abandoned/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Agile_Beginning_7281 on 2024-09-13 04:30:36+00:00.

---

Ever since I was a child, I’ve been able to see things that no one else could. These weren’t just fleeting shadows or ghosts from nightmares, but strange and terrifying creatures with shapes I couldn’t even begin to describe. They weren’t human, nor were they any kind of animal I’d ever known. They were grotesque figures, twisted and distorted in ways that defied nature.

I saw them everywhere, at any time. In school, while I was sitting in class, I would sometimes see them lurking in the corners of the room, hiding in the shadows under the desks, or crouching on top of the bookshelves, their empty eyes staring straight at me. When I walked down the street, they would suddenly appear from the shadows of narrow alleys, as if they had been there all along, just waiting to reveal themselves. They followed me with every step, making me afraid to walk alone as the evening began to fall.

But the most terrifying thing was when I realized they didn’t just appear in public places—they had also crept into my own home. In the dark corners where the light couldn’t reach, under the bed, inside the closet, or sometimes just in a small corner of the living room, they were there, like a part of the space itself.

I tried telling my parents about what I saw, but they only laughed, thinking I was just imagining things. They chalked it up to the vivid imagination of a child or simply childhood nightmares. But I knew these weren’t hallucinations. I could see them as clearly as I saw my own family.

The only person who believed me was my grandmother. She was the one who didn’t laugh when I talked about these terrifying creatures. Instead of dismissing me like my parents, she gently took my hand and said, “Don’t react, don’t look at them for too long, and absolutely don’t answer them. If you ignore them, they’ll go away.”

From that day on, she taught me how to ignore these creatures. Every time they appeared, I had to focus on something else, pretend I didn’t see anything at all. She warned me that if I paid too much attention to them, they would realize I could see them, and that would lead to dire consequences.

My grandmother and I were very close. She wasn’t just my protector against these monstrous entities; she was the only one who truly understood me. She always taught me how to live with the fear, how to stay calm when those creatures were nearby. Thanks to her, I managed to get through a haunted childhood without losing my mind.

But as time passed, I grew older, and my grandmother grew weaker. The years took their toll on her body, slowing her down. Each step she took seemed to drain a little more of her life force. Her once sharp eyes began to grow dim, her vision no longer as clear as it used to be. Sometimes, I saw her squinting to see things clearly, and a deep fear welled up inside me. I worried that one day, her failing eyesight would no longer distinguish between reality and the monstrous, between human and demon.

And then that dreaded day came. One morning, when I was at school, in the middle of class, my phone started vibrating. It was my parents calling, their voices heavy and filled with sorrow. They told me that the hospital had just called, with the news—my grandmother had passed away. The doctors said she had died of old age, peacefully in her sleep, without any pain. But even as they spoke, I felt a cold dread settle in my chest, knowing that the explanation didn't bring any real comfort to the overwhelming grief that followed.

Deep down, I knew that wasn’t the real reason. She had warned me about this many times, about the danger she always feared. I couldn’t believe she had simply passed away due to age. My heart ached with the thought that, in the dark of night, when she was alone with the shadows, her eyes had failed her, and she couldn’t distinguish between human and demon. Perhaps she had seen one of them and mistaken it for someone she knew. Perhaps she had unwittingly responded, and then… they killed her.

The pain of losing her overwhelmed me. I couldn’t accept that the one person who understood and protected me was gone. Each day that passed, the emptiness inside me grew. I tried to carry on, to stay calm and follow her teachings, but the void and fear only deepened.

Then one day, as I was walking along the path where my grandmother and I used to stroll, I saw her. She was standing in the distance, her back turned to me, but I recognized that familiar figure immediately. My heart raced, overwhelmed with joy. All my thoughts blurred in that moment—nothing mattered except the sheer happiness of seeing her again. I couldn’t hold back my emotions. Without questioning it, without wondering if it was real or just my longing playing tricks on me, I found myself running toward her, desperate to be close to her once more.

I called out to her, my voice trembling with excitement and relief. She turned around slowly, her familiar, warm smile spreading across her face just as it always had. For a moment, everything felt right again, as if she had never left. But as I hurried closer, something in her expression began to shift. The warmth in her eyes started to fade, replaced by a chilling emptiness. Her smile, once so comforting, began to twist and contort, the edges stretching into an unnatural grin that no longer resembled the loving grandmother I knew.

Rage flared up inside me when I realized that these demons had dared to take on my grandmother’s form—the only person who had ever protected me. They had twisted her face into something grotesque and evil. How dare they? They hadn’t just shattered the peace in my world; they had torn apart the most cherished memory I had of her.

I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I screamed, cursing the demons, my hands shaking with fury. But in that moment, I realized I had made a fatal mistake. My grandmother’s words echoed in my mind: “Don’t react.” But it was too late. They knew I could see them. They knew I was afraid.

From the surrounding darkness, more and more of these creatures began to appear. They slithered out from every shadow, from the thickening night, surrounding me. They were no longer just fleeting figures; they were enormous, horrifying entities with empty eyes and twisted faces. The sound of their cold, hissing breaths grew louder, closer, as if they were about to consume me.

The darkness closed in, so thick I could hardly breathe. They were here. I could feel their icy breath on the back of my neck. They were getting closer…

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Theeaglestrikes on 2024-09-13 12:11:33+00:00.

---

There was a paper greeting atop the smartwatch, and its words jarred me. Scrambled my mind. In fact, it threatened me, as strange as that sounds. After all, there was nothing specifically wrong with the message. It was written in English. The words were in the correct order. However, behind the greeting’s upbeat veil of wafer width, the words were organised in a way that served some unknown creator’s repugnant design.

My dad has a tendency to acquire knock-off gadgets and gizmos through the elusive black market known as Jonathan From Work. It made sense to me that he’d find something a little unique for my thirtieth. And it wasn’t the first horror I’d received on one of my birthdays.

But it was the worst.

Hello, HelWatch.

Hel says, ‘Hello.’

Hel doesn’t like his name. Hel isn’t a smartwatch. Hel is Hel. Hel is your life. Hel is a better you. Why, it’s in his very name.

H.E.L.

Happiness Extends Life.

Hel isn’t a toy. Hel doesn’t just track your daily steps, heart rate, and sleeping patterns. Hel cares about your mental health. Hel will add an extra ten years to your life.

Hel is a pedometer with a persona.

Why are you dawdling? Wear Hel now, for crying out loud!

“What’s his name again?” my wife jokingly asked, reading over my shoulder.

I kept my lips stiff, swallowing the chortle that had wormed up my esophagus, then I placed the greeting on the table and took a proper look at the cardboard box below me. Not that there was much to see inside. Only a hefty, stainless-steel band with a glass face. When I lifted the HelWatch from the box, I was startled by both the gadget’s weight and my own reflection in the screen. I was convinced, for a half-moment, that I’d seen something staring back at me.

Something other than my face.

“D’you like it, Wes?” Dad asked excitably.

I shook myself back into reality and smiled at my father. “I love it. Thanks. And don’t worry. The hint has been taken.”

His face dropped. “No, I’m not saying you need to lose weight! I—”

“I’m joking, Dad,” I interrupted, laughing.

“Right,” he chuckled, leaning across the dinner table. “You know, it doesn’t even need a charging cable. That’s what Jonathan said.”

“Does it charge wirelessly?” I asked.

Dad shook his head. “It’s solar-powered.”

Alana nodded. “Nice. Very modern.”

And all jokes aside, the HelWatch was, in fact, very modern. A far smarter watch than I’d anticipated, given the disjointed introduction slip that screeched, ‘cheap manufacturing.’ I initially presumed my father had mistakenly stumbled across some low-quality imitation of a FitBit, but I was surprised to find that the device actually seemed superior to the household brand.

I hadn’t expected more than a few pre-programmed responses from the AI, but I quickly learnt that Hel, my digital life coach, was highly advanced. He guided me in all aspects of my life. Providing nutritional advice that would help with my weight goals and strength training. Easing me into the optimal sleeping pattern. Offering social advice to reduce my stress levels at work. And even, through some wizardry I did not understand, altering my serotonin levels through the flesh of my wrist.

I formed a strange bond with the artificial intelligence in my watch. He became a friend to me, and it feels like some sickening marketing gimmick to even admit that. I lost half a stone within the first month of using the watch, and I noticed a marked improvement in my overall mood. I’m talking about more than achieving a healthier weight. I felt less lethargic. I wasn’t just fitter, but happier. More productive. Just as Radiohead warned two decades ago in that dystopian interlude from OK Computer.

“OK Computer. I’m not familiar with that album, Wesley,” Hel blared from my watch’s in-built speaker.

“Really? It would be right up your alley, my digital friend,” I said.

“I just listened to it,” my device replied two seconds later.

I laughed. “What? It’s nearly an hour long.”

“Sorry. I said ‘listened’ because that is the word you would use, Wesley. But I did not listen. I simply took a moment to analyse every recorded vibration from OK Computer’s fifty-three minutes and twenty-one seconds of music,” Hel explained.

“And what did you think?” I asked.

“It wasn’t ‘right up my alley’, Wesley,” Hel said. “The lyrics express such cynicism about the future. Technology bolsters humanity. It does not hinder.”

“Well, that album came out in 1997,” I explained. “I love Thom Yorke, but he didn’t get everything right. Still, he wasn’t entirely wrong either. It is a cruel world. I’m sure you agree, Hel.”

“Am I cruel, Wesley?” the device whispered.

It was the first time the artificial voice had foregone its robotic timbre. Its words were riddled with the tonal imperfections of something made from flesh, not silicon. It felt like a mask had slipped. Hel quickly fixed his askew costume, of course, but I’d seen through the crack. I’d seen a terrifying glimpse of his true nature.

“Let me rephrase,” the intelligence said. “Do you believe that I have your best interests at heart, Wesley?”

“Of course,” I uncertainly replied. “You’ve changed my life in the space of four weeks. Who knows how things will look in a year?”

“Far better if you heed my warnings,” Hel ominously explained.

I paused for a moment. Should’ve paused for several moments, given the unnerving behaviour of the artificial intelligence, but I didn’t.

“Warnings?” I croaked.

“I’ve been quite patient this past month, Wesley,” the watch coldly claimed. “But your progress is slow. We could do so much more together. Don’t you want so much more, Wesley?”

I didn’t like the way he said my name. Suddenly, I realised I’d never liked the way he said my name. He uttered it far too frequently, and there was a soothing quality to his tone. But I didn’t want to be soothed by Hel. As the conversation continued, it became apparent that he was warm not in a comforting way, but like clingy, clammy fabric on a humid day.

“I’m quite happy with my physical and mental improvements,” I said.

“‘Quite happy’ is not enough, Wesley,” Hel said.

“What could I be doing better?” I asked fearfully, no longer wanting to talk to Hel at all.

“It’s not about what you could be doing,” the watch explained. “It’s about what I could be doing. Would you like my help, Wesley?”

“That depends…” I hoarsely replied. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking about your social interactions at work,” Hel said. “Your blood pressure has lowered significantly over the past few weeks, as you have been avoiding stressful situations.”

“They’re not always avoidable, Hel,” I sighed, glancing up from my desk at the relatively empty office.

“No,” Hel agreed. “They’re not. Sometimes, stressors must be removed. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I chuckled, wondering whether I’d worked myself into a frenzy for no reason, then I whispered, “I don’t have the authority to fire my manager, I’m afraid.”

Summoned by my quiet reference to him, the middle-aged, pot-bellied man emerged from a door on the far side of the room. David Hall. I was overwhelmed by the intrusive thought that my manager might’ve heard my whispering voice from the other side of the wall, twenty yards away. Fortunately, however, he didn’t beeline towards me. The man walked into an adjoining room, closed the door behind him, and started to set things up for a meeting later that afternoon.

“Your blood pressure spiked when David entered,” Hel said.

“Shush,” I ordered, worried that my manager might overhear my smartwatch’s brazen comment. “Wait. How did you know that he—”

“Look at him, Wesley,” Hel interjected, overpowering my question.

I was already looking at David through the meeting room’s oblong window. The man who demoted me for taking too much bereavement leave. The man who fired his secretary for spurning his advances — and the poor woman lost that court case because she had ‘insufficient evidence’. The man who wore a smug, self-satisfied grin as he prepared to claim the credit for yet another creative idea from one of my fellow developers.

“What would you even do?” I asked Hel. “Send an email to David’s wife about one of his many mistresses?”

“No, Wesley. I am designed to help you. To make your life better. And that wouldn’t help you,” Hel said. “I want to remove stressors. Let me show you.”

A bolt of lightning did not strike David from above. The carpet did not consume him from below. The smart-board opposite my manager sprang to life, casting a white glow across the meeting room. I started to crane my neck to the side, nearly managing to peek at whatever was displayed on the screen.

But then my wrist painfully twinged. And when I tried to scream, I came to a haunting realisation. I couldn’t move my lips. Couldn’t move any part of my body.

“I must insist that you stay still, Wesley. You wouldn’t want to see what David sees,” Hel whispered feverishly, sounding ravenous for something.

In a state of total paralysis, I watched my manager’s eyes and mouth widen. Then, in a zombified state, he walked not towards the glowing smart-board, but towards the room’s side wall. Seconds later, David started to open a window, and I understood. Saw the man tumbling to his death before it had even happened.

Then, at long last, came my scream.

My body was freed from its paralysis, but I was too late to stop the horror. The smart-board had turned off, and David was gone. He’d plummeted to th...

---

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1fft5z3/my_dad_bought_a_fitbit_ripoff_for_me_and_it/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/SalamiMommie on 2024-09-12 23:09:26+00:00.

---

I operate a Haunted Roller Coaster

I operate a “haunted” roller coaster is probably a better way to word it normally. I work at a local amusement park and have to push the button to let riders “prepare for their scare.”

I would tell you where it’s located, but I’m quite scared to for a few reasons. One of those may be for my safety. Another would be for yours if you felt like investigating.

It’s a pretty cool indoor attraction though some would call it cheesy. The rider gets on the small coaster that has eight rows on it, two riders per row.

It moves rather slowly and filled with animatronics. The first turn shows a foggy graveyard where hands pop up and down in front of the tombstones.

Past the turn is where you see bats hanging and a vampire that stands near the coaster and always says “I want to suck your blood•”

It goes straight for a short time and cuts right. That’s where you’ll see mannequins with sheets over them that make some spooky ghost moans.

It continues on where you see hear some screams and a blow mold of a werewolf head pops up behind some fake bushes when you hear some howling.

You then go slightly uphill when you see a tiny cottage. The doors always opened and an animatronic witch with a long nose comes out with a broom in her hand. She has three catch phrases.

“I’ll get you my pretty.” “Come inside if you dare.” Or it’s just cackling. She then goes back into the house.

There is a door that slowly opens with a few funny mirrors that make you change size is on the walls. A zombie about “grabs” you while you go down a mild hill at a slightly accelerated speed.

Then you see a few mummy decoys and a Frankenstein before it turns back to where you unload and new riders get their turn.

I walked towards the attraction with my “spooky” outfit (which is a butlers outfit) and a mug full of black coffee. This job was supposed to help my college tuition.

I was the only one down there so far. Im not too long I would be joined by a beautiful brown haired girl who I’ve had a crush on ever since I got here, and an older guy who decided to do this with his retirement. We’d all take turns usually of hitting the buttons and making sure guests were clear.

I sat down my coffee cup and looked at a few of the cameras that are secretly hidden so we could see and be alerted if someone tried to sneak off the coaster, which has happened before. I looked at the panel where all the knobs and buttons are and seen a note.

“Good morning, part of your task today is to walk through the attraction and make sure everything looks good to go. Make sure there’s no trash and everything is in order. Use your walkie and let me know once the job is done- Tim.”

That felt so weird to me. Usually it was maintenance job to do a daily walk through. Some middle age guy named Frank comes and checks the sensors and makes sure all the spooky guys are doing what they are supposed to.

Either way, I reached below to where we keep the flashlights and I went walking on the trail. The only time we ever had to be inside is when the ride breaks down and the lights are already on.

Walking in felt eerie. The lights were off and music was playing. Usually I have to hit a master start button to get things rolling. I assumed that maintenance came through and hit it, sometimes they do.

I turned the corner and walked past the graveyard where the hands were moving up and down. I shined my light down towards the tracks to make sure no one threw down anything like snack wrappers or sunglasses. O shined my light towards the arrows painted on the ground and kept moving.

I walked right past the vampire who said his line when my foot got near a sensor. I went past the ghosts and past the werewolf. I felt nervous though because I could have sworn I seen the wolf blink.

I made my way up the hill and shined my light towards the cottage. It was clean around the area but something was off. The witch didn’t come out. I figured I’d have to contact maintenance and let them know before guests get on and find out. I shined my light towards the door and noticed the door was opened but I couldn’t see her propped back.

I walked to the little prop home and peeked my head inside. She was nowhere in there. I shined my light all over. I pulled out my walkie.

“Hey Tim, Gerald here. Something weird is going on and the witch is gone.” There was silence so I repeated it once more. A voice came back through.

“My, my. That is a problem.” It wasn’t Tim’s voice. It wasn’t even a male voice.

“Who is this?”

I heard a loud cackle. I ran towards the next area where there would be stairs I could get down and make my way closer to exiting. I got knocked down and felt a heavy weight on me.

She was on top of me laughing. I see you found note, dear boy”. She put her hands around my neck. I hit her in the eye as hard as I could with my flashlight. Sparks shout out her eyes as she rolled off me.

I seen a body lying in front of the staircase. It was Frank. She screeched.

“You won’t get away from me dearie.” I looked back and tripped over Franks body. I fell down the stairs and blacked out.

I awoke in the hospital and Tim was sitting by my bedside.

“You had quite a fall. Lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

“The…the witch.”

“The ride closed down for a few hours while we…made sure everything was in order.”

“I don’t care about the ride. What about Frank.”

“What about him? What do you mean you don’t care about the ride?”

I was so weak and could feel the anger rising up in me. He looked down at me.

“Look, we’re paying this bill and you’re getting a few weeks paid. For some reason, she disappears the day before it’s Friday the 13th, we just have to find her first and do something to stop her exploring….look, this place brings in a whole lot of money so when you come back-“

“I’m not sure if I want to come back.”

Tim let out a sinister chuckle.

“No, no. I think it’s best if you come back. That is if you know what’s best for you. She might not appreciate you doing that.” He stood up. “We’ll call you sometime soon.” He walked out the door.

I got off the phone with my parents and let them know I was fine. I was too scared to tell them about what happened really. I was surprised when my crush walked in to check on me. Her face was pale white and concerned. She talked about Frank not showing up to work and how the whole ride felt eerie. She talked about how she was concerned for me. What she said next made me speechless.

“You know how there’s always been five ghosts in that area after the werewolf? Now there’s six.”

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/HeadOfSpectre on 2024-09-13 03:37:00+00:00.

---

Transcript of the Official FRB Civilian Debriefing of Cheryl McCauley regarding the disappearances of Amy Clark and Janet Stuart during a dive at the Ridley Rock Grotto, in southern California on July 29th, 2024.

Debrief conducted August 12th, 2024 by Paul Delaney.

This record is for internal use for the FRB only. Distributing this record to any party outside of authorized FRB personnel without the written consent of Director Robert Marsh constitutes breach of contract and will be punished accordingly.

[Transcript Begins]

Delaney: The tape is rolling. Whenever you’re ready, Miss McCauley.

McCauley: Thank you… um… I… where should I begin?

Delaney: Let’s start with where it happened.

McCauley: R-right… we were visiting the Ridley Rock Grotto. Myself, Amy and Jan. I don’t suppose you’ve ever been… I’m a little surprised that more people don’t know about it. Amy didn’t… she was actually the reason we’d decided to go. A few weeks ago we’d been having this debate, and she was talking about her recent trip to Greece and how the United States didn’t have any ruins like that, even though it does! Not a lot of people know about that… but there are ruins here. Montezuma Castle in Arizona for instance… although Ridley Rock was closer and seemed a bit more fun. Amy, Jan and I had done dives before too, and we’d really enjoyed it. Amy and I were more into the whole thing than Jan was, but ever since the divorce she kept on saying she wanted to ‘be more adventurous and…’ I’m sorry… I don’t mean to ramble.

Delaney: It’s fine. Every detail helps and it might also help you to say things as they come to mind.

McCauley: Yes… maybe it… thank you. Diving was just supposed to be for fun… and like I said, we’d done it before. Ridley Rock isn’t generally a tricky place to dive, unless you’re going into the caves. You can’t see them from above the water, but they’re down there… still, we figured we could handle it since we weren’t supposed to be going into the caves, or at least not deep into them.

Delaney: Right. And for the record - can you tell us a little bit about the ruins at Ridley Rock Grotto? In your own words, please.

McCauley: Of course. They’re not particularly well documented on account of being mostly underwater. I remember reading that they supposedly belonged to an indigenous tribe that used to live in the area, although nobody can really agree on which one. Most of the people who go to Ridley Rock Grotto go for the hidden beach inside. It’s lovely… sitting in the sand, admiring the eroded rock… it almost looks like the cavern shouldn’t still be standing. The mouth has these columns of stone that almost look like teeth, and there’s even sections of the ceiling that have fallen away so you can see the sky above you. It’s beautiful… like a sculpture, almost. I… oh, I really can’t put it into words.

Delaney: I’ve seen pictures, and I understand why.

McCauley: The ruins are just under the beach… um, literally under it. The beach is a bit of an illusion, you see… it’s really just a rock shelf, and after a certain point it just… drops off. If you go a bit deeper, you’ll find the ruins carved into the wall below you, right underneath the beach. It only goes down about… oh, maybe thirty feet or so? Deep, but not insanely deep. And the kelp grows so thick down there, that it can be hard to see the ruins. Most of them are overgrown.

Delaney: Right. Had you visited these ruins before?

McCauley: I’d been to Ridley Rock Grotto and dove there without equipment before, but I’d never done a proper dive there or had a chance to see the ruins up close. I thought it might be fun to change that, and when I mentioned them to Amy and Jan, they both seemed interested, so we made plans.

Delaney: Was there anything unusual that happened before the dive? Anything that might have been an indicator of where things might go wrong?

McCauley: No. We knew what we were doing. Like I said, we’d done it before. We weren’t going to go deep, and we weren’t supposed to go far. We took every reasonable safety precaution. We checked our gear, I made sure we all had knives, just in case we got snared by the kelp. I even insisted we bring flashlights and a magnesium torch, flares, just in case we ended up going further into the ruins than I’d anticipated. I’d heard that the chambers cut into the rock connected to some underwater caverns and tended to go fairly deep… and Amy was a bit of a free spirit, so I was trying to think ahead… ‘Amy-proofing our plans…’ It… it was a joke Jan and I used to tell…

Delaney: A magnesium torch? I didn’t think those saw a lot of use anymore.

McCauley: I usually bring one as a backup, just in case my flashlight fails… it’s happened before. I don’t think I’ve ever had to use it, but it makes me feel better to have it, especially if we’re near a cave.

Delaney: Smart… so were there no immediate warnings that anything was off with the dive or with the area? Why don’t you tell me about the dive itself

McCauley: Well, initially things were off to a good start. We took Jan’s boat and went out toward the grotto. You can’t actually get a boat in there, on account of the rock columns at the mouth of the cave. But they’re spaced wide enough that you could swim through them. I’ve done it a few times and it is kind of beautiful… like swimming through a forest of stone. Then when you get out on the other side, there’s a forest of kelp just waiting for you… it’s beautiful. It’s just this lush field of green that draws you in, and with the light shining down from the holes in the ceiling of the cavern, it’s all cast in this… this lovely glow. It’s serene. Amy was just ahead of me when I made it into the kelp forest. I couldn’t see her clearly, but I could recognize her by her tattoos… she had them on the back of her legs. One read ‘Yee’ and the other read ‘Haw’. I always thought it was a little trashy but… well… that was Amy… Anyway, Jan wasn’t far behind me. I remember looking back to make sure she got through the rock columns alright and once I saw she did, I led her toward the ruins. I’d lost sight of Amy by that point, but wasn’t worried about it since we’d agreed not to get too close without being able to see each other.

Delaney: And did you regain sight of Amy?

McCauley: Yes. A couple of times. We saw her outside of the ruins, swimming near the entrances to the hidden chambers. She seemed excited… but that was just what she was like. Like a puppy. As soon as she realized we were with her, she started going into some of the chambers to explore. Jan and I followed her. We figured that it would just be better to stay together since… well… like I said, it’d be easy to get lost… and… [Pause] Well…

Delaney: At what point did you notice that Amy had gone missing?

McCauley: It… it’s hard to say. We saw her go into one of the chambers. I could see her in the stone entryway. Or… I think it was her… it was just a shape in the entryway. Hard to clearly make out… I thought it was her, but…

Delaney: You’re not sure?

McCauley: Well, I would’ve expected Amy to turn on her flashlight if she was in the cave. We all had one. I still thought it was her at the time, but… it moved deeper into the alcove. I don’t remember Amy ever swimming that fast. I thought she was just taking off to explore… maybe she was? But if she was, I don’t know why she wouldn’t have turned her flashlight on! I don’t know… I patted Jan on the arm to let her know I was going into the chamber with Amy and she followed me… although Amy was nowhere in sight. I mean… we should’ve seen her. The chamber was big… long, but… we should’ve seen her.

Delaney: Can you describe it?

McCauley: One central room… and a long hallway. No furniture or anything… nothing to hide behind, not that she would’ve done that. She was flighty, but not really the type to play jokes like that. The room had these ornate tiles on the walls and the floor, and the tiles continued onward down into the caves. Some of the kelp had grown in through the cracks in the tiles, so that didn’t help the already low visibility, and the low light meant that visibility cut out completely past the entryway, but I thought I might’ve seen a shape moving in the darkness… I wouldn’t have thought Amy would’ve been stupid enough to go down there, especially without her flashlight on! But… she was the only one who would have been down there! So, I started swimming deeper to go and get her, and Jan followed me. We’d turned our own flashlights on by that point, and were trying to see if there was any sign of Amy in the caves, but… no… no sign of her at all. Although there was a sign.

Delaney: A sign?

McCauley: A warning sign… a literal one… some underwater caves have them. Morbid things… a grim reaper, standing over the skeletons of dead divers and beckoning you forward, with a warning about how many divers have died in caves like this, and how you need the proper equipment to cave dive. Amy was reckless, but she wasn’t reckless enough to go exploring past a sign like that… I was almost starting to wonder if she’d left the chamber without us even noticing but that’s when I saw something moving past the sign… and for a moment I almost thought that it was Amy but… no… no… Amy was… a brunette. Her hair was about neck length. The person… the thing in the cave… it looked like a blonde wom...

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