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I like this one. Anyone know more about the "glimmer people" or the "glimmer man" ?

here's a story that I like that I converted into greentext format:

>be me
>work for US government
>say ‘used to’ because don’t know what’ll happen now
>didn’t have glitzy office job
>more of a field agent
>military, but not quite
>not going into intricacies of branch or specific work
>irrelevant, you probably wouldn’t want to know
>doubt if you’ll want to know this either
>story needs to get out
>dealing with something nobody understands
>we’re supposed to understand everything
>drilling rig in Kalahari Desert
>you’re not supposed to know about it
>middle of nowhere, nobody could stumble upon it
>barely knew shit when called up for the mission
>FBI started investigation June 2013
>some anomalous event occurred

>rundown of what we were told:
>hostage situation
>few workers went crazy, holding others at gunpoint
>no explicit reason, assumed desert madness
>what we were told
>job: defuse the situation
>try not to kill anybody
>key word: “try”
>no guarantees
>any old SWAT team could’ve handled it
>dealing with petroleum engineers, not trained militia
>place confidential, non-essential personnel barred
>barely made the cut as ‘essential’
>in retrospect, should’ve asked more questions
>questions like why so secretive
>why 36 men needed for what small squadron could do
>truth is… after a while, you stop caring
>but this time changed everything
>can’t just write this off
>flew out in 3 aircrafts, 12 people each
>recognized Klaus and Buchanan on mine
>others were strangers, didn’t matter
>goal: get in, finish the job, get out
>journey took a while, expected
>what I saw when we got there… not expected
>rig and buildings not spectacular on surface
>located on edge of huge-ass cliff
>Buchanan: “Kinda defeats the purpose of a rig, doesn’t it?”

>place extended down into cliff
>stairs, ladders, elevators, tunnels
>entrance: small, gated building leading to stairs
>plan:
>place too tight for 36 people at once
>split into 3 groups of 12
>first group runs into trouble, send second
>if second fails, third steps in
>ideally, 2nd and 3rd not necessary
>I was part of 2nd
>not taking it seriously
>dealing with batshit workers with basic weapons
>first group likely to waste perpetrators if rowdy
>they wouldn’t need us
>some guys in squad felt same
>Klaus found beers in cabin
>finished them off while supervisors weren’t looking
>after 2 hours, told to head down
>stood in disbelief, supervisors barked to stir reaction
>we complied, had to
>implications heavy: 12 trained men couldn’t finish job
>we were expendables in unknown situation
>glad we had beers for nerves
>at entrance, supervisor Richter opened metal gate
>poured into reception area
>small space, few desks, filing cabinets, metal vault-like barrier
>Richter entered code into panel, barrier opened
>faced with blackness
>flicked on rifle lights, descended steps
>lightbulbs above not working
>steps branched every 50 meters, kept going straight
>Richter: “Keep going down”
>after 20 minutes, reached lab/control room mix
>monitors, scientific instruments haphazardly set
>lights here, breathing loosened
>Richter told us to be quiet, moved to back door
>sheer silence
>Richter’s expression plummeted, motioned us over
>whispered: “Keep your guard up”
>extreme reservation in air, followed orders
>Richter slowly opened door
>should’ve expected what we saw
>couldn’t stop gagging
>seen death, but not like this
>first team lying limp, gory mess
>bullet holes too large, like 50. Cal sniper
>who’d snipe in close proximity?
>assumed not dealing with rig employees
>superiors lied or out of loop
>leaning towards former
>Richter signaled halt
>couldn’t be mad, he looked terrified
>motioned to enter hallway
>moved with caution, minimal noise
>tried not to disrupt bodies

>hallway branched, always went straight
>reached large, rusted metal door
>marked: INSPECTION ZONE: MAXIMUM CLEARANCE NEEDED
>another panel with fingerprint scanner
>looked at Richter for next move
>Richter entered password, scanned thumb
>braced for whatever was coming
>couldn’t be prepared
>deafening alarm, flashing red lights
>metal barrier opened, massacre followed
>barrage of ammunition decimated group
>near back, didn’t get full brunt
>no way in hell to return fire, futile
>brief glimpse of attackers before bolting
>assumed infantry unit, more advanced
>shiny grey exo-suits, precise movements
>weapons barely yielding recoil
>ran other way, ducked into branched pathway
>weaved around maze of corridors
>gunshots ceased, only my footsteps
>alive, but lost
>stopped, leaned against wall, catching breath
>nearly had heart attack, metal hand covered mouth
>one of those soldiers
>instinctively put hands up, “please don’t kill me”
>soldier’s helmet retracted, revealed face
>looked at each other for eternity
>blank face, subtle surprise
>familiar somehow
>after silence, he chuckled: “Never thought I’d get this chance…”
>initial shock wore off, tried pestering with questions
>words stumbled out incoherent
> “It’s alright.” He stopped me
> “Long story, but I’ll explain everything”
>looked around, continued: “Hopefully we have enough time”
>what he told me was incredible
>soldiers came from future, 2143
>time travel
>they came to stop us from reaching inspection zone
>what was beyond the point?
> “Something primal… never meant to be disturbed”
> “Bunch of theories, same conclusion. Cannot fuck with it.”
>we dug into Cliffside, ruined future
>released something
>soldier sighed, took a seat
> “You weren’t the only ones that fucked up. We did too.”
>chaotic aftermath, time travel expedited
>needed to erase event immediately
>first team of 15 sent back to winter 2014
>stop it before it started
>technology not ready

>accidentally dropped June 2013
>wait, June 2013 when it started
>looked at soldier, he nodded
> “Catastrophically messed everything up”
thought more, couldn’t be
>first team dropped, triggered event
>seismic or radiation spike caught US attention
>pod with water, rations dropped 400 miles away
all died in desert
>trying to stop discovery caused it
> “Predestination” I whispered
>soldier nodded
> “Self-fulfilling prophecy. Doesn’t make sense to me, but I didn’t help design that time machine.”
> “What did we release?”
> “What’re you guys protecting?”
>chuckles, sneers: “Not protecting that thing. Protecting humanity. Need it dormant. Wakes up naturally, we’re fucked. But we can’t cause it.”
>still don’t understand, pressed further
> “Why you here now? It’s 2018, machine fuck up again?”
>soldier nods
> “Needed to be sent back after discovery. Landed a few days ago.”
> “What now?” I asked
>sheer disconcertion on his face
> “Kill everybody that comes here. Employees, investigators.”
>heart drops, feel anger
>realized why necessary
>100 lives today to save humanity
> “Close to drilling into beast’s lair. No time to convince you to stop. Only 15 of us. In our timeline, initially disrupted end of year. Saw creature, decided not to provoke further. Too late. Woke up 124 years later, escaped.”
> “No time. No time.”
>cautious, asked: “Why didn’t you kill me?”
>looked at me, extended gaze
>eyes familiar, strange at time
>reached into pocket, took out Polaroid
>slid it to me
>me holding baby, mid 30’s
>stared back, expected explanation
>he chuckled: “Family never blamed you. Ancestors felt shame, but we knew you were following orders. Didn’t realize what you were doing.”
>processing revelation, soldier got up
> “Kill you, I won’t exist. Selfish reason, but survival.”
> “What do I do now?” I asked, nearly choking

> “Find way out. Staircases lead up. Surface, try to tell others, but won’t believe. Forget about this.”
>must’ve looked horrified
>soldier chuckled: “Don’t worry. We have plan, confident it’ll work. Hold you off for few more days.”
>smiled, activated helmet
>walked, turned back: “Would’ve told more, no time.”
>sat there, hands shaking
>stood up, found stairs
>stairs felt like eternity
>didn’t encounter anyone
>reached surface, only thing on mind
>we’ve been living on borrowed time

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>>37929958
I was 8 years old, I remember waking up in my parents bed, I must've fell asleep on the couch downstairs and been carried up to bed, but all I remember is laying there alone,
the hall light was on, and I heard the TV on downstairs, so I thought my parents were still down there watching TV, so I enjoyed the huge bed to myself, their heavy thick duvet covering me, freshly made bed i could stretch out in.
But there was a lump in the bed next to me, and it shifted a bit as i stretched out, I remember it moving, I just thought it was the dog, so I moved my little toes towards it under the covers but when they reached the lump, it was nothing but cold, like ice against the sole of my foot.
I snatched it back quickly, whatever was making the lump in the bed slid off the other side, I heard nothing, but felt the cover being pulled as it moved, and I was frozen.
what was in the bed with me?
and does it know i'm aware?
I lay there for an eternity, ears open and my breathing light, trying to hear whatever it was on the floor, or was it under the bed? was it waiting for me to move?
I was so quiet, I could hear the TV clearly now, there was no show on, just a high pitched ringing, the TV channel had ended for the night, so why were my parents not in bed?
I sat up in bed, slowly, quietly, trying to disturb the huge bed as little as possible.
I pulled the covers away so I could make the jump from the bed to the light of the hall, I could run downstairs and get my parents, I could make it.
So I stood on the bed, and I jumped.
I ran so fast down the stairs, I ran into the living room and I saw them, my parents were frozen, staring at the TV, eyes open, mouths open, frozen still, and I could feel it behind me, at the top of the stairs, looking at me.
I turned around and all I could see was it's huge black glass eyes, all I could hear was the TV.
When I woke up I was outside my house,
My parents thought I was sleepwalking.
they don't remember putting me to bed though.

bump

>>fakes are welcomed
Every single time.

Ok here is mine.
Was abducted. Was on Saturn orbit in an UFO blablabla, then I saw mickey mouse, was a pic forced in my mind by gay aliens blablabla

Why is fake cool and welcomed?
Search a literature forum for that shit.
If asked foe fakes the thread is shit. And a useless reddit clone.

You fucking FAGGOT.

>Back in the 80s.
>I have a temp job working as an archaeologist for the Bureau of Land Management in Lander, Wyoming.
>Lander didn't have a lot to do.
>So one weekend I drive to Casper. Hey, bars that don't play only Country-Western music!
>Spend most of Saturday chatting with a hottie.
>Bar closes, but things don't go the way I would have liked with the hottie.
>Get in the car, start driving back to Lander.
>Bad decision. It's really late and I'm pretty tired.
>Eventually, I decide it would be smart to pull off the highway and get some sleep.
>A hotel isn't really an option, that part of the world is barely populated.
>End up in a rest area. I pull right into a parking spot, set the brake, and go to sleep.
Note the "pull right into the parking spot". >T>at'll be important.
Later on, I'm jolted away by the sensation of my car rocking.
>I assume I'm rolling and grab for the parking brake, but it's set.
>The car stops rocking.
>I get out. It's a clear night with a full moon.
>Looking around, I notice something weird.
>Remember how I pulled straight into a parking spot?
>The problem is I'm now pointed the wrong way -- I would have had to back in when I parked.
>My car is flipped 180 degrees.
>I get back in my car. I'm wide awake and there's no point in trying to get some sleep.
>So I get back on the road and drive all the way to Lander.
>Over the next few days, I consider my options.
>Earthquake? There was none recorded and it sure seems unlikely that one would have so precisely relocated my car.
>Some drunk local boys screwing with an out-of-stater? Maybe, but they sure would have had to clear out in a hurry after I got out of my car. There was no sign of anybody.
>Somebody slipped something into my drink when I was in that bar? Actually, that seemed the most likely, but I had no other symptoms beside that event in the rest area.
>Shrug it off as "that was weird" and get on with my life.

>But the next week or so is strange.>
>Things I knew I completed at work were still pending.
>The boss recalls conversations with me that I don't remember.
>There are some new people in the office that I don't remember seeing before but others say have been there for years.
>Likewise, some folks I knew at the office weren't there any longer and nobody else remembered them.
>I don't think I'm in the same Universe that I lived in for my first 20-some years.

>>37931385
how to spot a newfag 101. when did you start browsing this board pal, 2019?

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I don't believe a single pasta that talks about Antartica, but damn I still like them for some reason.

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Does anyone remember The Holders?

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>>37929961
Heard of him, didn't know people are calling him by that name now.
My step father was in special forces, and when he really wasn't safe to drive any more I drove him to some special forces reunions and funerals.
I was told that the predator movie was a true story, that some soldiers were hunted by him, but no other details.

>>37929958
hi youtube

>>37933335
there arent any polar bears in antarctica

>>37930004
>>37930014
>>37930028
>>37930039
>>37930050
>>37930060
Interesting movie

>>37934269
You know they'd fuckin love it down there though.

>>37933358
>Does anyone remember The Holders?
Man so much nostalgia, I remember reading it in my old ass java phone, never did finished it tho

>>37929961
>>37933641
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qlicWUDf5MM

>>37934269
>there arent any polar bears in antarctica
That's what (((they))) want you to think.

anons i really distinctly remember this one greentext i read on here like a year ago, does anyone know anything about it
>took place innawoods when the poster was a kid
>used to play around in the forests
>one day meets a quiet girls who refuses to tell her anything about herself
>does some weird shit once or twice
>they spend the summer talking & playing
>at the end they have to leave
>anon cant seem to find her anyway
>until he espies a small cat relaxing on a branch of a tree near the woods around his backyard
>ends with "i guess she was always there" or some shit like that

>>37933430
do you have more of the thread this is from?

>>37933358
Yeah, I remember reading most of it back in 2007 (at least the original 538 or whatever it was, some number around there). Tried reading it again out of nostalgia maybe two years ago. Turns out it fucking sucks, and nostalgia wasn't to take me on the ride again.
Sadly, I've since discovered that this applies to pretty much all creepypasta/greentext/whatever pre-2013. Hard to see why I thought any of them were compelling back in the day.
Holders did at least precede old SCP, right? I remember thinking that SCP was just bargain-bin ripoff of Holders when I first became aware of it, but don't actually recall if it came later or I just didn't know about it earlier.

>>37929958
ayyyy

>>37929958
>exploring local dump with a friend
>people leave free stuff there sometimes, there’s a swap shed
>he shows me the area behind dump where people stash things from the dump to pick up later
>friend is a salvage expert, has a travel trailer in area behind dump where he stays occasionally
>winding heavily forested wide trails full of large abandoned machinery, stashed for metal salvage
>he shows me all the prime picks we can come back for later
>there is a mannequin at the dump entrance he refers to as “Paula”
>says if you want to take anything you must first “ask Paula”
>area is highly contaminated, unliveable
>When I see something I want, I know instinctively to think of the mannequin and ask if I can have it and I will have my answer
>explore and chat for a couple hours, check out cool abandoned things strewn alongside the trails, abandoned encampments
>as we are exploring darkness falls
>we stop by friends travel trailer to grab some salvage using my phone flashlight
>as we are walking out of the winding network of wide forested trails behind the dump, friend nods his head in the direction of a trail we didn’t go down
>I look down that trail and see the real Paula
>paula is surrounded by atmospheric distortion
>sitting with her knees in front of her, hunched over, arms around wrapped around her knees
>completely naked
>emaciated, extra long arms, extra long legs
>pale white eyes, pale white hair long enough to spread along the ground behind her and beside her legs, pale white skin
>paula raises her head as I look at her
>get the feeling I should not gawk at paula and continue to follow my friend back to the exit of the trails where my car is parked
>just as we are returning to my car, look back and the trail leading away from paula is now blocked off with a large glowing tent (perhaps a 12 man)
>get back in car, take friend home and go to bed
Thanks for the stuff Paula

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>>37938308
It was just a random creepy thread on /wsg/. I posted the Rake video and got that reply.
Since I though they went so well together I mixed them in that image.

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>>37941463

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I wonder if Midnight Broadcast started the thread? However this is going on my YouTube and Rumble.

>>37936785
Literally why. What purpose would that serve

>>37945538
They already told you that polar bears aren't there and now they can't go back on their word. Science is very dogmatic and cannot be questioned. If you question it then you believe the world is flat and people breathe hamburgers. It's a control thing.

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>>37945538
>>37945617 (this, but unironically)

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>>37929958
>When I was 6, I had a Nightmare about this shadow person and he looked like this.
>he slowly crept up to the foot of my bed.
>he extended his long, dark arm and slowly lowered it down on my face.
>I heard his slow, faint breathing.
>His blank, emotionless face, slowly turned into a smile.
>He lowered his head onto mine, I felt his warm breath.
>He slowly inserted his fingers inside my mouth.
> I was too frightened to move
>I tried to call my parents but My voice was too muffled for them to hear.
>I instantly turned on my lamp and all of a sudden he was gone.
> To this day I have no idea whether he was a real shadow person, or just some sick Child molesting Predator in a dark costume, I'll never know.

>>37945617
That has to be one of the dumbest statements that I have ever heard. The entire point of science and discovery is to question what we have learned and to reshape what we know. It is quite literally the opposite of dogma.

The only reason you're not taken seriously is that you have no evidence or sources to cite that are legitimate. If you truly have evidence that disproves Einstein, Hawking, etc., then by all means - publish it; claim your Nobel prize.

But if all that you have is a feeling/youtube channel/vision you received while stoned, then you can't get upset when nobody takes you seriously.

>>37951429
You’re mistaking the scientific method with mainstream “Science”. The scientific method is used by scientists to make discoveries about the natural world. ”Science” is a modern day religious institution where people have faith in “experts” to tell them what to believe.

>>37951620
There's no mistake at all. You have simply conflated objective and reproducible/falsifiable facts with a conspiracy or religion, because it conflicts with your own biases and feelings.

What you should ACTUALLY be upset about is the hackneyed version of that information that makes its way to you through media and news organizations that filter and obscure the real information in order to make you doubt and question the evidence before your eyes. There is not religion of "Science;" it goes against the very nature of discovery and research.

If you were half as clever as you believe yourself to be, you would have developed the critical thinking skills to have seen past all of that a long time ago, and it would be irrelevant.

>>37951667
Experts say you’re a faggot.

>>37951735
Way to somehow underperform my already lowered expectations. Confused at why life is so difficult for you all of the time?

>>37931493
I’ve heard of similar things happening to other government employees, what is it with the government and reality shifts?

>>37952444
Zoomers so deep into ironic shitposting they’ve become unironically blasé to everyone else

>>37933335
Any copypasta to do with frozen wastes or snow is pretty gudymwk

>>37951429
>The entire point of science and discovery is to question what we have learned and to reshape what we know

This. So so much this. Remember when Semmelweis was like
>dude just like wash your hands before you start putting your hands inside of people's bodies and you'll save like millions of lives fr no cap lmao
and the other scientists were like
>bruh wtf like seriously W T F thank you :praying: I can't believe it was this simple to save millions of people's lives haha! you a real one fr bruh!
Remember that? No because it didn't happen. Instead he got fucking ridiculed for saying something so preposterous and died in a mental asylum because he couldn't take knowing he was right while being surrounded by dogmatic mongs like yourself.
Now we just pretend he played some minor role at best and it was Lister who really came up with germ theory and Pasteur didn't prove shit.
You know the weirdest part? That was during a time when science *was* about discovery and questioning things. Now imagine (if you can do that, I'm sure science says you're allowed to some degree) how much worse it is since it turned into a quasi-religion that, much like religious dogma of the past, can't be questioned. And fools like you will lap it up because the science™ is settled.

Backchat me again and I'll knock you fucking spark out you little pencil neck.

Does anyone have the screencap of one anon who said he likely saw an "angel"? I think that was the Name or Subject field.
The story went along the lines of:
>Anon driving his truck down the road at night, snowy weather
>Comes across another vehicle that's parked at the side of the road, with a horse tied to an animal cage that is towed to the vehicle
>Horse is outside the cage (as the door is ajar) but is still chained to it
>He stops by it, wondering if the driver needs help
>Driver is nowhere to be found
>He gets out of his truck and checks the area
>Sees footprints on the thick snow going along the side of the road, follows them with his flashlight
>Footprints suddenly become more ragged and distant from one another, like the person who made the tracks suddenly broke into a sprint
>Another set of footprints swoop in next to the first set, and look very weird
>Suddenly, the footprints end, as if both entities that made them suddenly vanished
>Anon walks back to the truck, sensing something's wrong
>As he pulls away, he looks back to the horse
>It's suddenly VERY agitated, trying to yank itself away from the cage, away from something on the side of the road Anon was inspecting moments ago
>Anon speeds off
>Parks his truck outside his home, rushes inside, goes to the top floor
>It's pitch black outside and he STILL senses danger
>He peeks out the window, watching his street in the pitch black night where he can just barely see things
>His truck suddenly tilts to the side, as if something landed on its roof, heavy enough to press down on the suspensions
>Something that is clearly looking for him, and clearly not human
>Anon hides, waits for dawn
It had me fucking spooked, I wish I could find it again.

>>37954306
That means it’s in the genes of humans to be cattle.

>>37955592
Anything new?

>>37945617
>They already told you that polar bears aren't there and now they can't go back on their word. Science is very dogmatic and cannot be questioned. If you question it then you believe the world is flat and people breathe hamburgers. It's a control thing.
This is the smartest post I've read in years.

>>37948993
>his fingers
You sure about that?

>>37933403
Classic - remember reading this when I was like 12 lol.

>>37941113
Damn, is this real or is it just a creepypasta?

>>37941143
Dude's parents were just kidnappers lol.

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>in university
>living in dorm
>have roommate
>our beds are placed right beside one another with a divider in the middle
>one night I go to bed b/c have to wake up early for an exam
>roommate out partying with gf that night
>hear from behind the divider what sounds like the roommate let out a huge "sigh" as if he was holding his breath in for an hour or so
>pay not attention to it
>wake up and hes not there
>what did I hear?
>go to the exam
>get back from exam later that day
>RA is at my door and tells my the roommate was choked to death last night
>asked if I knew anything

>>37957677
Why did you do it?

>>37951429
Einstein was...y'know and Hawking was a pedophile that's all I need to know.

>>37957728
he used all of my hot sauce!

>>37957645
It's genuinely creepy too because video games occasionally do /x/ tier shit.

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>>37929958

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>>37957836

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>>37929958
Come on, let's get this thread going. Does anyone have the one of anon being a researcher on a plane in Africa? He and a bunch of different people are researching a big hole/footprint before he gets a sinister chill.

>>37957848
The part where he saw the monster always gets me.

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There's something inside the house...

>>37943848
are you that shaman tts guy? why don't you use your voice instead of making the 1000th tts channel using the same dogshit voices?

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>>37957868
oh no, not a "sinister chill". terrifying.
in seriousness though, the setup sounds familiar. Are you maybe talking about this one?

>>37956392
kek

>be me back at my parents' apartment during COVID after losing my job
>have to share room with little sister
>"anon you talk a lot when you're asleep you know?"
>"the other day you asked me if i'd seen the giant pass by or the alien by the door"
>must be stressed since am broke af now
>go to sleep
>wake up, have sleep paralysis
>look at the door, its a gray alien
>oh shit
>it starts walking towards my foldable bed
>OH SHI
>wiggle my toes to gain lucidness
>it works, FUCK YEAH
>pretend to be paralyzed
>ayy starts getting closer
>about to touch me
>just about his fingers are about to touch my forehead I jump the little motherfucker and start strangling him
>start yelling FUCK YOU NIGGER FUCK YOU NIGGER in english(am from south america) while I strangle the little faggot's pencil neck
>wake up yelling I'LL KILL YOU NIGGER
>mom and dad enter room, sister is scared
Havent seen the little fucker ever since

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>>37955139
I got it senpai.

>>37958059
Yeah that’s it anon. Thank you! Idk why but it gets to me.

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>>37933430
The video in question.

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A classic.

>be in a shitty life and financial position, watching Turner Classic Films just out of morbid interest
>liking Donkey Skin, it’s fine
>in the middle of the movie, while the protagonist sings a song about how screwed she is if she’s found wearing the skin, I hear a crack of lighting and my mothers laughter at a high point in the music right when I was thinking about how suicide might be on the table
>My mother had a distinct laugh, as she had a high pitched voice and a strong New Jersey accent, so her laugher is engrained in my mind, as while she was rather short, making her difficult to stop in crowds, she was very loud, so obviously her voice was engrained in my skull
>while she was very cheerful and I had a great, stable childhood, as she got older she gained a mean streak influenced by alcohol and her own issues, mostly related to her own relatives, so had a mean streak and she laughed when she was disgusted or angry as well, and because of my failure to launch until my mid 20s our relationship got strained
>the laugh I heard was something in between a normal long laugh from her, and also oozed meanness
>I rewinded the tv, it had no sign of her voice in the audio
I never killed myself and sort of moved on to better pasture, but the cruelty in the voice is what I remember still. I don’t know what she was laughing at, really; was she laughing at me, or was she laughing at something I can’t understand yet? I have never seen a ghost and I have never experienced a similar event in my life, it truly sounded like my mothers laugher mixed in with the orchestras music, during a scene where the protagonists is speaking with peasants, again, about how they need to chance her life.

>>37957677
This type of thing was actually reported when Manly P. Hall was killed. His wife, who was far away, heard his final breaths.

>>37934269
there are no wolves on fenris

>>37929961
I encountered something like this during a sleep paralysis event. A tall, translucent being stood near the corner of my room before approaching me and inserting something into my nostril. The barely recognizable outline of him made him seem that he was wearing a surgical cap and mask. Strangely my nose had been itching terribly before the event, and I even thought I had an ingrown hair there, but when I snapped awake my nostril didn't itch anymore. I thought perhaps he removed something that had been placed there.

>>37941463
this rocks

I am a seventy-five year old, who not only has had close encounters with UFOs but I came face to face with two of the 'occupants' when I was aged 'nineteen'. Another 'nutcase' many might remark (if not to my face rest assured) I have after all no witness to that encounter that took place here in the UK as my brother Dennis departed these shores to live in Australia in 1969. He would however attest to that which took place ten years earlier on the first Sunday of January 1959 because he shared that terrifying encounter with me. My family members are fully aware of what my brother Den and I experienced that traumatic early morning hour. Because I have reiterated that account of that 'mind blowing' experience countless times since. It happened at approximately 0200 hrs when Den and I were en-route home along the A3 route from Portsmouth, on Dennis's 125cc BSA Bantam motorcycle. He had taken our younger brother, Rob, back to his Royal Marine Barracks near Portsmouth. Both Rob and I were serving in the Royal Marines and our 'two weeks' Christmas leave had 'overlapped' one another's by one week (his leave commencing one week prior to mine).

I had taken Rob's 'railway warrant' - which I was entitled to as a fellow Royal Marine - to meet both brothers at 'Portsmouth and Southsea' railway station, Dennis having taken Rob there on the pillion of his motorbike. My intention was to say 'goodbye' to Rob at the station and then to return home with Dennis. I had little else to do and I welcomed the ride and the company. I remember that neither brother was at the station when I arrived there and I had to wait some time before Den turned up. His motorbike had incurred a 'front tyre' puncture although I have a feeling that I was late arriving at Portsmouth and Southsea railway station through some delay or other. When I at last met up with Den he told me that Rob had continued onward to his barracks as he had to be there by 'three minutes to midnight'.

Thus, I mounted the pillion of Den's motorbike well after midnight and very soon we left Portsmouth far behind. I remember that it was bitter cold and I clung behind my brother's body to shield myself from that bitter cold air. I wore only a light, 'blue' summer jacket and light 'fawn' summer trousers. Aside from my uniform I possessed a few civilian clothes.

Thus we rode along the A3. I was silent, alone with thoughts of my own return to my RM barracks a week later. Conversing was out of the question. Even shouting loudly was ineffective in the slipstream as we sped along. The whole route was bereft of traffic and eventually we found ourselves riding around the perimeter of the 'Devil's Punchbowl' at Hindhead. At one point, as we were almost about to leave the 'Bowl behind, so Den suddenly steered the motorbike onto the grass and the engine cut. "Problem?" Dennis assured me there wasn't a problem but that it was 'a good spot to take a breather and to spend a penny!' So we stood there on the swathe of grass overlooking the 'deep bowl-shaped' valley stretching away before us. The sounds of the wind and of the motorbike engine took several minutes to disperse from our ears and it was good to get some respite from that bitter cold wind. Then, as the 'ghost' sound of wind and engine dispersed, so we noticed a strange sound emanating from down in the Punchbowl itself. A sound impossible to describe except maybe that it was almost 'musical' to the ears 'like the asdic of a submarine and yet at the same time really nothing like it. We had never heard such a weird sound before and there was nothing with which to otherwise compare it. Puzzled and exceedingly curious, we elected to make our way down into the 'Punchbowl' to discover the source of that mysterious sound.

There was an initial very steep slope of maybe 'thirty feet' or so that we were obliged to descend on our 'backsides'. Then, with Den leading the way we were able to continue on downwards along a barely discernible but more gently descending track. How long we were making our way steadily deeper, I don't know but we were quite a long way down there and to me the weird 'musical sound" was becoming ever more mysterious and much louder as we came closer to its 'source'. What's more, as we drew closer to that 'source' I developed a strong sense of 'unease' that persisted as we proceeded. Soon afterwards Den stopped abruptly and turned to me to express that he had 'a bad feeling' and added "I think we should turn back!" Looking back in the direction of whence we had come I could see that we had in fact traveled an uncomfortable distance away and in hushed tones I readily agreed with my brother that maybe we should indeed turn back.

Literally at that precise moment, before we had even turned around, there came a sudden momentary silence as that weird sound abruptly ceased. What occurred next is equally difficult to describe. There was a sound, almost like that of displaced air. I can explain it no better than that. Then, this 'sound' rose vertically into the air, very close to where we stood. We both dropped to the ground instinctively in an effort to silhouette the 'object' against that brilliant backdrop of stars but we saw nothing even though we were able to 'follow' the path of travel by the strange 'sound' it was emitting. It appeared to travel somehow away to our 'right' and then 'swooped' back around to head back towards us.
The terrific 'crash' that ensued as it struck the ground was deafening and ought to have been heard as far away as Guildford, my thoughts at that time!

It had me comparing it to that of a large airliner 'crash landing'. There then followed the distinct loud sound of scrub being 'flattened' in its path as it seemed to 'skid' along under the inertia of its descent and then to finally come to a stop some little distance, maybe 'twenty to thirty feet' in front of us. I clearly have, etched into my mind, a distinct memory of the noise of thin branches or scrub scraping along an obviously 'metallic' fuselage, followed by the final 'scraping' sound as that branch broke free. A 'flying object' of some sort had come to a halt. I stood staring at the bushes from where the sound of that 'crash landing' had come. I (we) had seen 'nothing' and yet this 'flying object' by the very sound it made as it hit the ground indicated a large, exceedingly heavy if 'invisible' craft and in my head the word UFO was at the forefront.

Then, almost immediately my attention was drawn to 'something' approaching us from the direction that the UFO had 'landed". I stared ahead, my mind struggling to believe what was actually taking place. Then 'it' emerged. I will describe what we saw, as best to my memory as possible for I was overcome by a feeling of sheer terror. This figure stood some 'eight to ten feet' tall. It appeared to 'glide' rather than to walk. It also appeared to be floating some 'two feet' or so off the ground. It stopped in front of me, so close that I could have touched it. I was literally paralyzed with fear, an adrenalin rush so great that it had an opposite effect and I stood there transfixed, unable to move.
Then, a second figure identical to the first, 'glided' out from the same direction and stood to the left of the first one, as viewed from my position. Both figures seemed to be 'floating off the ground' and had seemed to glide. The 'body seemed composed of some sort of black material that was convoluted, with like lengthwise 'folds'.

The 'head' was encased in an elongated glass helmet' and where the eyes would be was a single, large round-shaped 'green eye' or light. Today I would liken it to a large LED (Light Emitting Diode) but I am not so sure such devices existed at that time. Mercifully (I felt) I could not see the features behind the 'glass' but I had an uncanny and distinct feeling that I wouldn't want to see behind the 'glass' anyway.

I am unable to clearly describe my feelings except for one thought within the sheer terror that overwhelmed me. 'This cannot be happening, but it IS!' Amazingly thoughts of 'those in government would not believe what is happening to me right now but they are fast asleep in their bed's and NOT here in this Punchbowl with me, seeing what I am seeing!' I clearly recall those thoughts. I seem to remember something else, a 'sickly odour'. Was this the 'odour of fear' or did it come from those two aliens? I truthfully do not know! Such thoughts were fleeting, coming to me in a moment of utmost terror. My second thought was of the sudden need to 'look at another human being' and almost in slow motion and with great concentration of effort I managed to turn my head 'left' to look at my brother. Why 'left' when he had been standing on my 'right?' I'm at a loss to explain that one. The two aliens stood a mere 'few feet' away, within touching distance. Utilising all my concentration I slowly, so very slowly and 'mechanically' managed to turn my head to look upon my brother. A second shock now struck me as I saw that I was standing there alone.

The shock of this realisation galvanised my hitherto 'paralysed' body into sudden 'action' and turned my body to face the direction that I was facing, for the thought came to me that if I looked back at them again I would not escape. I then ran! That headlong, terror-stricken flight was like a nightmare in itself because I was expecting to be seized from behind. My thought was that I would surely not be allowed to escape after what I had just witnessed. I had no sense of direction at all, I remember only that my one and only desperate thought was to put as much distance between me and 'them' and as possible. I ran, seemingly blindly and I could plainly hear high pitched screaming as I ran. Those screams seemed to be apart from me but may well have come from me, I truly don't know! All I remember was that headlong, panic-stricken flight as 'running in a nightmare' and the full expectancy that I would 'not be allowed to escape'. The next image as I ran so blindly was of finding myself inexplicably at the base of the 'thirty foot' steep incline that we had initially descended. How did I, in that panic-stricken flight manage to find my way back to where we had descended into the Punch Bowl? I was and am unable to explain that one either.

There, ahead of me and scrambling up that steep incline was my brother. I had 'caught up' with him and in later years he told me that he was on a 'rise' before reaching that incline and that when he looked back to check that I was with him he saw to his horror, that I was still standing at the original spot with two aliens clearly seen towering over me. By the time he had scaled that steep incline, I had caught him up. He must have seen me but seconds before I had turned and fled. As a very fit, young Royal Marine and at the same time 'fuelled' with sheer panic, I can answer that one quite clearly. As we feverishly tried to climb that steep incline so we would slip back down a 'foot' for every 'three' we made upwards.
Eventually we made the top. Den mounted his motorbike, 'kick started' it and I leapt onto the pillion and away we sped in great haste. Even as we rode at speed along that road I was half expecting to be seized and pulled off that motor-bike and I clung tenaciously, my arms around my brother's waist. I remember that just before we reached the city of Guildford, eleven miles on, Den pulled over and cut the engine. A tall, long ash fence lay close to us and against this we dropped onto our haunches unable to believe what had happened and how we had escaped a 'fate worse than death'. I remember nothing more after collapsing against that fence. I haven memory of arriving home, not even of the rest of my leave. I do not to this day remember returning to my barracks nor of the intense training that followed. I have hitherto told no one outside of the family of our experience at the Punchbowl that 'never to be forgotten' night.

Strangely, I never forgave my brother for 'deserting' me down there. For three years I had no contact with him. Then, I heard that my brother was in an Isolation Hospital at Feltham, where he lived and that he was in a 'serious condition'. Dennis had contracted 'Hepatitis C' and relenting, I went to visit him. What I saw shocked me and totally melted my anger. Den looked like a 'skeleton' with 'yellow skin' drawn over it. He was badly jaundiced and had almost died. A priest had closed his eyes when Den suddenly opened them and the nurse had screamed. It had been a very 'close call'. It was 'years' later that Den explained that he had thought I was behind him when he ran. Only on reaching high ground had he turned to look back and saw that I was not with him but was standing there still with those two 'beings' towering over me. His only thought then was to 'escape and to report what had happened".
Luckily for me, I managed to 'just' catch him up before he'd gained the top of that steep incline, above which his motorbike was parked. It was all of a 'thirty miles' journey back to where I lived. Besides, poor Den would no doubt have been taken for psychiatric observation. OR charged with possible 'murder' associated with my 'disappearance'. Do I believe in 'aliens?' DO I WHAT? Oh yes, 'they' exist for sure! You won't find them when you are in the pub, watching TV or fast asleep in your bed, although I must hesitate here because I have since read of abductions of hitherto sleeping persons. There was something else that is relevant to this true story. When I finally talked with Dennis and asked him outright, 'why did you desert me down there?' He told me "it was those small creatures with red eyes that had almost formed a circle around you". There were hundreds of them. I never thought I would see you again!" I had not seen these 'red eyed' creatures but then, I had not been looking back!

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I remember this one time I was watching Family Guy and Peter just bleeded at me. I woke up from the dream only to find a Peter plushy at the end of my bed, only it had BLEEDING eyes!!

Many years later, on desolate Dartmoor in Devonshire, late one night, on the Northern Moor out of Okehampton, was a strange arc of brilliant white light. Another brother, Jim and his teenage son and daughter were with us. We decided to look closer at this strange arc of bright white light behind a high rocky Tor. The road to that part of the Moor was narrow, too narrow to 'reverse turn' and so would necessitate continuing a few miles further to the tiny 'roundabout' or 'doughnut' to come back on our own. After driving along this narrow road, flanked on either side by a steep 'drop' onto a boulder strewn moor for some miles, I began to feel a strong sense of apprehension, a strange feeling of danger, my sixth sense at work! This feeling had barely been with me for long when brother Jim suggested that we should 'turn back' because he 'felt it was dangerous to continue'. However, I had spotted something else, something that made my heart race. I saw literally 'hundreds if not thousands' of 'pairs of red eyes'. Those 'red eyes' did not belong to animals because no animal was capable of such speed and able to traverse that boulder-strewn terrain and the deep craters littering the North Moor, especially at night, besides which the number of those pairs of 'red eyes' was vast.My blood ran cold as I remembered what Den had seen at the Punch Bowl, 'red eyes' exactly what we were seeing there now on that Moor. And without doubt were seeking to surround us. Keeping my mounting panic and concern to myself I heard Jim again express his concern at continuing and I responded with mounting anger due to fear and frustration that I could not 'bloody well turn around' as the road was far too narrow and too high above the moor for the wheels to reach the ground once the wheels left the road. I felt that we had no choice but to continue on to that small 'roundabout' or 'doughnut' that I estimated was about 'four' miles further on.

I was driving a Mk 1600 1 Ford Consul and brother Jim asked to get out to 'see if there was a place we could do a reverse turn'. All too soon he called out "here Brian, you can reverse here!" I replied "are you sure Jim?" I had doubts, in that the 'drop' appeared to be too deep. He assured me that it was 'okay'. The rapidly moving 'red eyes' had by now spread out ahead of us, crossed over the road and having split into two vast 'groups' either side of that road, both were rushing speedily in our direction as if to encircle us. Where had I heard this before? It was Dennis and the Punch Bowl saga all over again. Thousands of them it seemed to me to be. Now I knew it was vital that we escaped. The memory of the Punch Bowl left little doubt in my mind as to what those 'red eyes' were, 'what they belonged to. Trying hard to control the fast rising panic within me I shakily expressed my doubts that the 'drop' was too deep and would plant the car on its chassis before the wheels contacted the ground. "No, it's okay!" Jim's words were hardly convincing but by now close to panic myself I drove slowly, turning the steering wheel 'hard over' to greatly affect the reverse turn and trusting Jim's 'observation' I put the gear into reverse and backed the car slowly off the road. A sudden 'crash' ensued and the wheels, it was rear wheel drive, spun above the surface of the ground. We were now completely trapped and helpless! Jim and Jimmy got out of the car and went to the rear. Christine was sitting behind me as her Dad and brother were trying to lift the car back onto the road, without success.

I had seldom experienced such fear as I sat there helplessly watching those rapidly speeding 'entities' that would soon have encircled and been upon us. No one else in my car had yet seen them. Jim and his son were trying to lift the rear of that 1600cc Ford Consul back onto the road. Jim was a brawny, a strong fellow but all that he and his son achieved was to 'lift' the car only so far a little way 'off' its suspension. The wheels however remained firmly on the ground. The idea fleetingly entered my head to get out and to run those 'nine miles' back to Okehampton, but how when those 'things' were so fleetingly fast? Besides which, I couldn't leave Christine and whatever happened we were not capable of travelling 'nine miles' on foot to escape those rapidly speeding 'beings'.
Then as Jim was trying without success to lift the car, Christine suddenly glanced over to her 'right'; saw the hundreds of 'red eyes' pouring like a flood down that sloping terrain towards us, screamed loudly "What are those? What are those?" Her loud scream signalled for the movement of the car on its springs to momentarily cease, obviously Jim had paused to see what had frightened his daughter. This was then followed by the sudden and unbelievable lifting of the car bodily in such a way as to slew it around at the same time so that it was facing our escape route out of there. Jim and Jimmy dived into the car and opened the throttle. I drove out of that place like the proverbial 'bat out of Hell'. I could scarcely believe our lucky escape. It is said that fear can induce enormous 'reserves' of strength in a crisis and that is what happened with Jim.

I drove as fast as was safely possible on that narrow road that night and upon reaching the top of a hill, some 'mile or two' further on, I stopped the car, engine left running, got out and looked back, Jim likewise. For several seconds we saw nothing but then, there they were, those two vast swarms of 'red eyes' pursuing us, on both sides of that road. I don't exaggerate their numbers, to me that seemed to run in 'hundreds if not thousands'. They 'appeared' to me to be small in stature, that was my impression because it was dark. They certainly travelled at speed over a very dangerous and rough terrain with many deep 'craters' and strewn boulders. After about 'five' stops, atop a hill (a precaution in the event that the car stalled and would not restart we would coast down). Each time we stopped and looked back so a minute or so would pass then suddenly, there they were, continuing their pursuit of us. On the 'last' hill I was able to see the lights of 'Okehampton' ahead of us, on our 'right'. We stopped here and again looked back. This time however we saw nothing more of those 'red eyed creatures'.
Whether you believe my true narrative I leave with you. I can but sincerely express that it happened as I have recorded it. As a 'reluctant' ufologist I have written of this 'alien encounter' quite some time ago, it was not published on the site I sent it to, neither was it even acknowledged. I wrote it out of sincere interest and possibly in the hope of eliciting a similar experience from others who may be experiencing an 'extra terrestrial' identical to mine. For what it's worth I have made 'pilgrimage' to that same area several times since, without 'success' except for two occasions when I heard that same 'musical sound 'fly' over not so far overhead, just above tree height in fact.

Nothing was visible although the sound indicated it had passed over the top of the tall pine trees through which our path led. 'My' car (borrowed from my younger brother) was parked some 'half mile' away at a car-park off the A3 and unable to contain my excitement as my brother said to me "Brian, I have never doubted your story but hearing that sound for myself, well it is certainly not of this World!" I suggested we return to the car, have a much needed coffee to steady our nerves, grab the portable 'excuse for a tape-recorder' (a 'tinny' Woolworth job) and endeavour to capture that weird sound". We made it to the car-park and to the coffee when suddenly brilliant lights lit up the car from behind. A tap on the window and I saw a policeman accompanied by a 'special'. I wound the window down. He asked "what are you doing here?" My short 'fuse' at this offensive intrusion along with my irate words to the effect that it was a 'free country' and to 'clear off (well, 'clear' was not exactly the word I used) did not go down well because a second patrol car arrived and my brother and I were handcuffed and incarcerated in separate cells at Godalming Police Station. How could we 'explain' that we were 'UFO hunting? The police cells that we spent six hours in being infinitely the better alternative to a mental hospital!

This incarceration was due to the 'copper' opening the boot of the car and discovering a 'twelve bore' shotgun that I had placed there, intending to shoot rabbits the following morning. I was accused of being 'Harry Roberts' (the guy who had shot a policeman dead, although this man was already in police custody in 1966). Raymond and I were released at 0600 hrs the following morning, without charge! I have had other experiences of UFOs, one of which was no rest distance away out at sea off Brighton in Sussex. It made no sound, gave the undoubted impression of being immense in size, and moved slowly and silently just above the sea, emerging from a fog bank on the West side to vanish silently into the fog bank on the East side. It was followed then by a second, identical 'saucer shaped UFO' with a 'bee hive' like dome on top and 'small' portholes' around the circumference of the body. Time being 0500 hrs. I had been sea-fishing at the time of the occurrence. I also had a frightening experience whilst under canvas at that same seaside resort of Brighton. But that, as they say, is another story.

>>37964513
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>>37964578
Can't ChatGPT generate all of this in one go?

>>37962142
That's the one. Thanks anon.
I see I misremembered a lot of it too.

>>37964597
fucking retard can't tell the difference between chatgpt and actual writing. the future of ai is only scary because retards like you genuinely can't tell the difference

>>37964597
We're in a greentext thread how about you contribute something or fuck off faggot. Obese retard dribbling over his keys whispering "zoinks chatgpt" to himself as the diarrhoea leakes out into his diaper.

>>37964733
>implying I've read this obvious drivel
lol
lmao
>>37964737
There is no need to be upset :)

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I like this one. Not really but it's a great story and i pray it won't come true

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>>37964908
That's the wrong one, here is it

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This one is also very good. I love stories about antarctica

>>37964751
time to back to jerking off to your succubus/nobody general / omg le jews rule the world threads that you love so much.

>>37957868
>plane
Did it crash?

>>37964992
Thing about this is they guy has a complete hate-boner for Dobbeneigh when most of us wanna be friends with the squids. Also if they are real it's likely the actual enemy is both our respective governments.

>be me
>walking in woods
>really pretty day, sun's out and autumn's coming
>on the trail when suddenly have to piss
>no one's around, fuck it
>go up to tree and unleash a nice torrent of piss
>feelsgoodman
>wait
>why are my legs warm
>wake up in bed
>pissed in my sleep
>the horror

>>37964513
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>>37964578
I remember hearing this last year. I've notice that a lot of people have been copypasting stuff lately instead of the screencaps for reason.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eevxQSyTaek

>>37962892
A wife I understand, being close to someone like that. But a roommate? thats odd

>>37967158
don't paste that tts dogshit here no one wants to hear it

>>37967158
Some people prefer the stories without the annoying tts voice.

>>37933641
Yeah, that makes sense. Special forces loving saying obvious bullshit stories to civilians

>go innawoods
>hear scary noise
>2spooky.mp4
>go outtawoods

>>37967447
was there ever a follow up to this

>>37967530
was there ever a follow up to this

>>37930060
I liked this one even though the plot twist at the end was way too convenient.

Story I heard from my grand uncle. Man has seen some weird shit over the years, some of which I've also seen. This is one of the more subtle stories, but still gives me the chills.

>be grand uncle
>vacation in Tuscany
>get to this cozy cottage style airbnb
>nice view, comfortable place, but missing 1 bed
>decides to take one for the team and sleep on couch
>that night, lying on couch getting ready to sleep
>hears sound coming from past doorway leading to kitchen
>assume it's one of my aunts or something
>something still feels off, so squints at the doorway
>watches as a figure walks past the doorway
>old man, pale as fuck
>permanent, shit eating grin plastered on his face
>fuckthisshit.mp3
>short of losing his shit, kinda hunkers down an starts praying as last resort
>eventually falls asleep
>Grand uncle never brings this up for the rest of the stay at the airbnb
>eventually we're about to leave
>He asks the owner, an elderly lady about it
>tfw she says it was probably her husband
>tfw said husband has been dead for the past decade

>>37970288
i like this one a lot. there wasn't a body behind the guy, he didn't have blood on his shoes, he didn't have big elongated arms, it's just a very weird and offputting yet believable story.

>>37970625
I'd have shit my pants if it was me

>>37965873
I'm with you actually. I believe they also have families like us with little dobblets that like to play aquatic ball in their cave-garden or whatever they play down there, and likely they don't want conflict, only living their lives peacefully and happily, like most of us up here. Meanwhile their corrupted leaders are warmongering and probably dealing and plotting TOGETHER with our corrupted leaders

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>>37967447
As a beekeeper i always ask myself if they also see me as some sort of grey doing all sorts of stuff to them and also stealing their hard work.
When i'm marking a queen that has to feel for her like anal probing or something
I guess they see me as some grey jew

>>37929958
>fake

You ruined your post

gonna paste an absolutely ancient one that I found on here in like ten years ago:

A warning to those thinking about accessing the shadow web.
How well do you know the Internet? Until two weeks ago, I thought I knew it pretty well. After all, I spend a good chunk of my day browsing Reddit and 4chan, and I’m always up to date with the latest memes and circle jerks. I’ve been a denizen of the internet since the early days of Fortune City pages and IRC channels, and a regular ever since.
Then, about a year ago, somebody introduced me to the “Shadow Web”—a sort of secret layer of the Internet that you will never find by Googling or looking up message boards. There are no “in links” from the surface web to the shadow web. And no, this isn’t the “deepnet”, in case you were thinking about that. Not some website with gore videos of freak accidents, I’ve seen those. I assure you this is something far more twisted.
I never asked what his name was. He was a regular who came to the gas station where I worked as an attendant last year. Every time he came in, he would buy $20 to $50 of UKASH vouchers, which I assumed were for porn subscriptions. I think it was a combination of his beige polo shirts and receding hairline that gave off the creepy vibe of a pervert.
One day, he asked for $300 of UKASH vouchers, and I made the mistake of raising the question: what for?
“Have you ever heard of the shadow web?” I remember him asking me casually as he counted $300 from a wad of twenty-dollar bills. I hadn’t, so I shook my head. Then he looked through his wallet and withdrew a little slip, one about the size of a credit card. “If you want to find out,” he whispered. He leaned towards me and slid the piece of paper into my chest pocket. I gave him his vouchers, he left, and I never saw him again.
Not long after, I left the job to return to school.

. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago that I came across the old, yellowy uniform with the piece of paper still in the front pocket. When I opened it up and read its content, I immediately recalled my encounter with the creepy customer.
The piece of paper had instructions on how to get to the “gateway” of the shadow web. There were a lot of steps, some more sophisticated than others. Unfortunately, I was both tech-savvy and curious enough to follow them.
The first thing you’ll want to know about this “shadow web” is that you do not want to go there. I’ve seen plenty of fucked up things on the web, but nothing comes remotely close to the things I saw on the SW. Thinking back, I should have noped the fuck out the instant I saw the front page. I don’t know why I hadn’t. Maybe something is wrong with me.
When I got to the “gateway page”, which resembles one of those welcome pages that pops up when you use the free Wi-fi at the airport or at the mall, the first thing I noticed was the word “Corpsefucking”. It was underneath a search field among thirty or so other words which I assumed were the most commonly looked-up things on the SW, things like skinning and mutilation. That should have been my cue to X out.
There were a lot of other things, too, other than sexual content and graphic gore footage. Things like instructions on how to make DIY roadside bombs. Things like a craigslist for cannibals and people who wanted to be eaten by cannibals. Things like a marketplace to buy and sell stolen identities, either individually or in bulk.
I spent almost an hour reading up on leaked war documents and diplomatic cables on a site called avenge shweb. The website looked very retro if you know what I mean. The layout had frames and each frame had its own scroll bar. When I found myself clicking on links without thinking twice, I realized I had become comfortable on the shadow web. Don’t ask me how I came across this next website.

Curiosity got the better part of me, and I clicked on things I shouldn’t have. I’ll spare you the actual name of site because I know some of you will make the same mistake that I did thinking it can’t be that bad. It can.
When I got there, I noticed the UKASH logo at the bottom of the page, indicating that paid services were available. It was in fact a live webcam show, but you only paid if you wanted to be the director. Viewing was free. Beneath the live feed of a webcam was the log-in page to a chat room. It prompted me for a screen name when I clicked on the join button, so I entered asdfasdfg like I always do when commenting on Pornhub or xvideos.
As soon as I got pass the log-in, a torrent of messages flooded the screen. Most of the messages were in English, a few were in Japanese, and I think some were Arabic or Farsi. The number of participants in the chat room fluctuated between 150-200 people, but that’s only the number of people who bothered entering the chat. I suspect many more were watching anonymously. The majority of legible messages were “STARTTTTT” or “GOGOGO” or something to that effect.
After about a minute, a man with his face hidden behind a hockey mask appeared on the feed. I remember him having dark brown skin and being really skinny. Like, starving Ethiopian skinny. Shortly after that, everyone was set on mute—everyone except for one user by the name of italiangoat who I figured was the “director” of this show.
That’s when the screaming began.
She was blindfolded and tied to a wooden chair with her hands behind her back. A bigger, darker man dragged her by the hair until she sat dead center on my screen. I watched her try to struggle free from the ropes, but she was so tightly fastened that you could see the bruising. God knows how long she had been tied up like that.

Finally, the bigger man took the blindfold off, and she stopped screaming. When she looked into the camera, she seemed to realize what was about to happen. She started crying and begging the two men in what I think was Arabic. Then a message popped up on the chat.
Italiangoat: lay her sideways on the floor.
The director issued his first command. The skinny man saw the message and relayed it to the bigger man in their own language.
Italiangoat: kick her in the stomach.
The skinny man continued with his translations.
Italiangoat: kick her in the face.
The screaming got louder and louder. What the fuck was I watching? That was it for me. I reached for my cell phone, ready to dial 911.
Italiangoat: stomp on her tits.
Italiangoat: tell your friend to kick harder, I paid good money for this.
I was in so much shock at this point that I couldn’t take my eyes off of the screen. The kicking went on for another ten, twenty, thirty seconds. It seemed as if it went on forever.
Italiangoat: now slit her throat.
When I read that last message, the churning feeling in my guts intensified. No, no, no, no, I kept thinking, somebody stop this. I tried to type into the chat, but the input field was greyed-out. The woman cried even louder when she heard the man relay the last request.
Italiangoat: wait, no, not yet.
The skinny man held one hand up to signal his partner to halt.
My breathing returned to normal for a second, thinking the woman was spared. At least for the time being. Then the director continued:
Italiangoat: take out her eyes first.
The skinny man stared directly into the webcam. I couldn’t see the entirety of his face, just his eyes and the small patch of skin around each one. In his eyes I searched desperately for the slightest hint of hesitation. Please, put a stop to this, I prayed, but I kept the mouse cursor hovered above the Close button in case they did not. And then, the skinny man began typing, and a second screen name popped up on the log:

Admin: another $500
My mind froze when I saw the number. $500. This woman was being tortured and possibly killed for a meagre sum of $500. I was making as much every other week at the gas station, and I was barely making minimum wage. If I could offer $1000 to stop this, I would. I would empty out my savings account if it meant saving her life. I would, I swear on my life. I’d pay anything to stop this madness.
Italiangoat: OK.
I quickly shut off the screen before I could see any more. I wish my common sense could have kicked in earlier. I ran out to the yard where I regurgitated about two meals’ worth of vomit. It had been a long time since I’ve felt this sick from watching something. When I was in junior high some friends showed me a clip from Rotten.com. It was the one where a man had his skull sliced in half by the rotor blades of a helicopter he was in the midst of repairing. And then, over the years, I’ve seen many more videos like that one—enough that I don’t get the urge to puke in my mouth anymore. But let me tell you this: seeing a live footage of a real person being tortured is stomach-turning on a whole different level.
When I was done spitting out the last bits of bile in my mouth, I heard screaming coming from my room. It was then I realized that in my haste to turn the monitor off, I had forgotten to turn the speakers off as well.
Her screams got worse and worse, until finally I was able to reach behind the desk and disconnect the speakers from the computer. The silence that followed was unbearable. It was as if by my own hands I had silenced her, killed her.
I felt remorse such as I have never felt before. I killed her, I thought to myself again and again. I KILLED her. The feeling was unreal.
I had to find out if she was alive. As I reached over to turn the screen back on, a voice inside my head begged me to stop. I do not want to see what I’m about to see.
But before I could stop myself, my hand had already acted.

The image on the screen was an image I will never, ever forget.
The severed head of the woman sat there straight across from me, both eyes missing from their respective sockets. That face… that warped, misshapen face have haunted me ever since. Even now as I write this, I can feel her hollow eyes glaring at me from behind. I sleep with all the lights on, the TV on, but nothing helps.
Right before I shut down the browser and reconfigured the network settings to access the good ol’ regular internet, I remember seeing one last line on the chat line. It read:
Admin: Thank you for watching. The next show will be in 1 hour.

>>37971904
every 4chan story is fake anyway we just pretend to believe them

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>>37964513
>>37964517
>>37964524
>>37964528
>>37964534
>>37964540
>>37964546
>>37964552
>>37964557
>>37964562
>>37964566 (checked)
>>37964571
>>37964575
>>37964578
Christ, are you paid by the fucking word? LARP elsewhere you verbose and florid faggot, you.

>>37937571
I dont remember that one but it reminds me of one along the same lines with the kid hanging out with an older girl. The twist was the girl had been dead for years and the girl the kid was interacting was her mom dressing up as her as a weird coping mechanism.

>>37972662
Go back to your succubus threads you fucking degenerate. You wouldn't know because you weren't born yet but stories and greentext were the bread and butter of /x/ and other boards for years. Fucking newfags getting all high and mighty thinking they own the board.

>>37973438
Fuck you. I've been here since before your oh so precious 'skinwalkers' were only a navajo witchcraft story, jumping through yucca hoops with wolf or coyote skins to turn. Feel free to consider yourself superior, though. Or, maybe, go start a fucking (((nobody))) thread, or another gnostic thread.

>>37937571
I know what story you're talking about anon. Unfortunately, I don't have it saved. The girl never left the forest and eventually disappeared one day. I don't remember the part about her being a cat, but I do remember her being strange.

>>37973491
post a story or gtfo out of the thread

>>37929961
Probably camouflage of some sort. Obviously not perfected yet.

>>37929961
I would have tried talking to it. You’re just a man and a dog, what would it be afraid of?

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>>37973611
Waste of a check. I have posted plenty of shit on these threads. Get fucked. But just to shut you the fuck up...

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>>37973611
>>37973971
Fuck you/2

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>>37973491
>>37973611
>>37973980
Fuck you/3

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>>37973491
>>37973611
>>37973989
Fuck you/4

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Not a greentext, but...
>inb4 uhhh ACKCHUALLY

>>37973971
congrats you just posted the most ancient, crusty greentext that everyone and their grandmas has read two million times. you're really providing a lot here.

>>37974138
You just proved my fucking point. Go make another slide thread and ask "what is the spiritual significance of my sleep-paralysis demon fucking me in the ass without giving me a reach-around?"

>>37974942
less talky, more story

>>37975320
Put up or shut up, you gatekeeping faggot.
>>37974021
>>37974032
>>37974047
>>37974054

>>37975392
checkmate
>>37964513
>>37964517
>>37964524
>>37964528
>>37964534
>>37964540
>>37964546
>>37964552
>>37964557
>>37964562
>>37964566
>>37964571
>>37964575
>>37964578
>>37929961
>>37930004
>>37930014
>>37930028
>>37930039
>>37930050
>>37930060

>>37975474
Once again, you prove my point. Keep on being a verbose, florid faggot.

>>37975503
>ummm ackshually you're a faggot and you proved my non-existent point I have no argument only the word faggot

>>37975503
Lmao gen z 4channer who thinks overusing the word faggot makes him edgy. Go back to posting your "le nobody is le jew and is injecting my ass with le covid vaccine and giving me autism" threads.

>>37975541
>>37975553
Sure thing, pal.

>>37975614
I win

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>>37937571
got you bro

>>37975867
Not the Anon who asked for this story but I vaguely remembered it too, and enjoyed it. Thanks! That definitely seems like a faerie.

>>37930039
>MAXIMUM CLEARANCE
Can we have stories that aren't written by actual fucking retards anymore

>>37932352
Kys

>>37979620
I'd ask you to write one but it still wouldn't meet the criteria

>>37929961
Kek, /x/ never ceases to amaze me with how stupid people are. You guys will believe literally anything.

>>37979716
It's called suspending disbelief to be entertained. Is your imagination really so fried from all the gooning you do?

>>37977877
Awh fuck off with this one lol

While I was in the Marine Corps, we would be stalked by these Bigfoot creatures at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. It didn't matter how many of us were out there. We were armed with rifles and no ammo and or blanks during field ops. They would pick up whatever trash or snacks we would drop. We sometimes could see their eyes in the treeline and see random glimmers of shadows through our night optics. But, you can see outlines and or someone's figure. I mean like stuff that was used probably during the early 2000s and they were monocular.
We would hear knocks or rustling throughout our nights around Verona Loop training grounds or on Camp Lejeune. Many of us who spent time in the infantry spend about 45-60% of the year in the woods. You could hear them at night. One night I was doing patrol ops in the woods/hills and we decided to take a pause. It was around 3 am and we were taking a nap break. It was during a wargame and I was on watch with one of my buddies. Holding security we saw an outline in the woods and meanwhile, we were sleep-deprived, not thinking we were seeing real things in the tree line till we talked to each other to confirm what we were seeing through our nods. Pebbles were being thrown at us and we were confused.

Thinking we were about to be run up on by Opfor (Opposition Force). So we wake up our guys slowly thinking we're about to be ambushed. Turns out we were being stalked. We decided to get into defensive positions and the rocks kept coming thinking we were being messed with by the advisors running around overwatching the wargame.
We checked on the radio if there were any nearby. None. None at all. So we thought it was Opfor. We opened up with blanks. But, as we opened up we saw a massive creature and another one about 25-30 meters away. The creatures knocked over a semi-thin tree and gave a deep growl. Something that would shake guys who were desensitized and not really scared by anything.
When daylight came we circled back to look and we found huge footprints. We were so confused and shaken. After that situation, we didn't know how to explain what we saw or experienced. That night I became an actual believer. I was always skeptical about Bigfoot or some creature being in the woods. It was about 5 years ago. To this day I struggle to go into the woods.

>>37977877
Fuck you anon

>>37974047
Amogus

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This one is from last thread. I'm keeping it for the ages.

>>37932352
Old fags hate it too you young wipper snapper. I always groan or roll my eyes when dipshits think a lie is a good time to practice their writing skills.

People drawn to x/ want real shit. The fucking creative writing threads belong on another board like tg/
The fakes think they are good, but they are never realistic. Someone who experienced real shit will write things terrified and quickly. Someone fake will always add extra flowery words. But most of all they are windbags. Holy fuck they can't tell a story in a short realistic way it a skin walker held a gun to their head. I hate it because I want real information to fight things that I have seen my entire life and others around me saw too.

>>37985068
fake oldfag. 4chan and /x/ was literally built on creepypasta and was literally created by a guy from the somethingawful forums. contribute instead of complaining

>>37929958
real or fake, creepy photo, to any knowing frens, is it real or fake?

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Too much arguing, not enough pastas.

>>37962200
Ah yes black emptiness. Screen shot what the important bits are

>>37974054
Yeah, neaderthals. Not scary.

>>37972004
I'm sorry you've never experienced anything. Fake shit is obvious once you've experienced the real thing. Paranormal Witness and dead files are the closest to reality I've ever seen if you want to know what to look for to identify real stories.

Paranormal Witness will really make you shit your pants when you see the stories with multiple unrelated people witness the same thing. 911dispatchers, police, all give their first hand account. A fucking prison warden.

>>37972222
For example i wouldn't doubt this ones legitimacy at all.

>>37974054
It's actually niggers. Dead serious. South American natives would tell you the danger of foreigners who have foreign diseases you have no defenses for. It's why we instinctively prefer our own race to others. Your money brain will stubbornly not let go of the idea someone who doesn't look like you is riddled with diseases that will instantly kill you. So really the boogy man for that photo is black death for Europe (came from China) small pox for north and South America, and south American diseases that drop dead aby European who ventures too deep into the jungle.

>>37982531
>>37982540
I believe you anon.

>>37930115
sorry i don't have anything to add but that is really fucking disturbing

>>37977877
I find the girl cute, and want her to watch me when I sleep.

>>37985068
You're right, but it's no use with that guy. He's been flipping out on anyone who bemoans fakes every thread lately, and every time it's just "oh disagreeing with me are we? haha I've been here since 200X, get on my level bro, here, let me flex on you with this commonly-known trivia about 4chan history".

>>37988054
I mean the OP literally asked for fakes so why are you complaining? You could easily start your own thread where you don't allow fakes.

>>37985068
>flowery words
God forbid someone slighlty embellishes a story so it doesn't turn into dogshit like:
>saw thing
>scared me
>I ran home

>>37985068
No but seriously why would someone write "terrified and quickly" if the event is over and they're safe? Are you stupid? Dude probably thinks every military story is fake unless they're posting from the d day beaches as it was happening

>>37988323
Because there are entire god damn boards devoted to fake stories you dense nigger. Take your writing club and fuck off.

>oh why can't I talk about baking on co/? OP requested it

>>37988334
>>37988330
Found the writer fags. No one wants to read an entire books worth of greentext with filler. We don't need to know how the wind blew through your hair 2 god damn posts before you get to the fucking story. Good writing =/= wind bag fuck tard

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I have a lot of real stories with multiple witnesses. I've told these stories many times here and I'm pretty hurt none of you cared to save them x/ I'll go in chronological order of what I've witnessed my entire life.

While I love in the woods stories, I've only experienced one spooky thing from the woods. The majority were found in houses. I think fake faggots cannot understand the things that go bump in the night feed on our fear and are drawn to us. Or if they are a human spirit, they hang around like unwanted squatter bastards.

Pissed native American ghosts:
>Be me
>Be 8
>Parents divorced and I moved with mom into a trailer
>Feel like I am watched
>For some reason can't stop imaging a crowd of around 5-10 men dressed like native Americans glaring at me when I'm alone in my bedroom
>Depression hits hard from parents divorce + fear in my room, my only safe space I hide in because my mother won't talk shit about my dad
>Cry in closet
>Have always been scared of the dark but I only sensed the spirits by my bedroom door and felt safe in the closet of all places
>Used to be in the old house before I was terrified of the dark and especially the closet
>In the closet I felt peace like I was hiding from them
>Very Christian and have 10 Bibles gifted by other people
>Don't know what to do about the ghosts except make a ring of Bibles around my bed at night and try to sleep.
>The crowd is always there in my room glaring
>The Bibles gave me peace and comfort but didn't drive the ghosts away
>mom didn't notice shit because of neglect and because she was dealing with emotionally recovering from the divorce
>She goes to me one day and tells me a neet thing she just learned
>Our trailer was built on land that used to be owned by a native American tribe
>She shows me a black and white photo of men in traditional native American clothing

1/2

>>37988428
strawman fallacy. nice job moron

>>37988434
so start your own thread then. just because a handful don't like it doesn't mean others don't. I can guarantee you that every single greentext you've ever enjoyed is a fake creative writing exercise that fooled you.

>>37988523
actual content finally. go on please

>>37988523
No there was no ah ha! Moment. I was a pretty oblivious and quiet child.

>thought to self "Oh that's neet" as I looked at the photo
>Convinced I was imagining things because books and TV described paranormal encounters as something physical you saw. Not something you vividly imagined with perfect detail with your mind was there in the room you felt the emotions of.
>Years later while looking back at all paranormal events realize it wasn't fucking imagined
>I did denial of the paranormal a lot to cope as a kid
>Part of me knew it was real though. I always believed in ghosts and would cry from ghost stories and hated horror movies

The icing on the cake is my great grandfather was native American from the north east. This was the south west California suburbs. But I'm blonde and the only sign of my ancestry is I tan very dark. Assholes were mad at a white kid that was actually one of them.

>>37988434
Agreed
>>37988330
>>37988334
Personally I do hate it when someone just dumps a pasta over 5 or so posts with bad formatting. It's too obviously fake, and the sort of YA level of prose people use is boring as fuck. A questions and answers type pasta is much more engaging and interesting. Despite these guys writing paragraphs of crap they put almost no effort it and are rarely unique. There's a reason the ones with drawings, pictures and "evidence" are the most popular ones.

The idea is to emulate (or trick people into thinking you are) an actual person experiencing an actual paranormal event, and not make it so obvious you're practicing your (barely literate) literary skills.

>>37988690
ah so you agree that every post is a story and a larp and that getting butthurt over stories being fake is stupid?

>>37988724
I'm not the original anon you were talking too, but I like entertaining & engaging larps but it's annoying when people post their poorly written tripe in threads without putting in any effort (like all the orginal ones in this thread like >>37964513 for example). It's just crap.

>>37988753
Writing is subjective. What you may dislike others may like. What you may view as poorly written tripe others may find entertaining. People need to stop heralding their own opinions as the be all and end all.

>>37988821
Come on, grandpa's schizophrenic rant is not good storytelling. Either way I don't even care who cares it's the internet let's just be mean to each other. I just guarantee you that one is not getting screencapped and posted in greentext threads for years to come.

>>37988837
If you don't care then why argue instead of posting greentexts you actually like? Post so many "good" greentexts that no one sees the dogshit ones. I want this board to be good again and have people actually contribute instead of pissing and moaning.

>>37988523
>be me
>17 years old
>visiting family in rural Canada
>uncle tells me about local legends
>says Wendigo sightings aren't uncommon in the area
>laugh it off as old folklore
>decide to go camping alone in the woods for the thrill
>pitch tent near a small clearing
>night falls, sitting by campfire
>hear distant howling, sounds like it's getting closer
>brush it off, probably just wolves
>fire starts dying down, get up to gather more wood
>feel like I'm being watched
>hear twigs snapping behind me
>turn around, nothing there
>get back to campfire, something feels off
>notice the woods are completely silent now
>no crickets, no owls, nothing
>suddenly, a foul stench hits my nose
>smells like rotting meat
>hear a low growl, look up and see it
>tall, emaciated figure lurking at the edge of the clearing
>eyes glowing in the darkness
>its skin looks like it's stretched over bone, gaunt and sickly
>antlers protruding from its head
>realize it's a Wendigo
>heart starts racing, frozen in fear
>it steps closer, its breath visible in the cold air
>snap out of it, grab my flashlight and shine it at the creature
>it screeches and retreats into the woods
>pack up camp in record time, sprint back to my car
>drive back to uncle's place, heart pounding
>tell him what happened, he nods knowingly
>"You saw it, didn't you? The Wendigo."
>never go camping in those woods again
>still have nightmares about that night
>uncle tells me Wendigo only appear to those who are truly alone
>never going solo camping ever again
>mfw the legend was true all along

>>37988850
lol nah i'd rather complain. this is just a symptom of the internet aging you know. you can't return to the glory days

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>>37988539
Encounter with demons.

>Be me
>Be 11
>Move in with Dad because so depressed at Mom's house because she won't stop saying negative things about my dad
>Shit was just as bad as my dad's house because of my stepmom
>Mother went nuts and spent thousands of dollars on the best lawyer she could find
>Dad and step mom had to move out of my Stepmom's nice large house into a rental home
>I always liked her house the most
>Never saw anything and always felt peace
>Learned she had it blessed years ago
>My sister told me a few years later that a friend's grandfather who was a cruel man died around the same time we met my step mom and haunted my sister
>He knew she could see him and would follow and harass her
>He couldn't step inside the blessed home and glared at her from the outside.
>no idea what happened after my step mom lost the house and sister said she started ignoring ghosts and they stopped harassing her

>I move into the small rental home my dad and stepmom bought
>first night there some thing comes
>I see a creature crawl and loom over my chest.
>It's about 4 or 5 feet tall
>Pitch black body stood out in the dark room
>It had a friend clinging to the ceiling with a hunched back and legs and arms splayed like a gecko.
>It looked emaciated, had exoskeleton instead of skin, it looked charred with crumbling lumps like it had been burned. 4 spikes were in a circle on its head like horns
>Giant shiny white or gray eyes
> claws instead of hands and two claw toes on its feet
>Froze up from fear
>Remembered dad had sleep paralysis. Do an experiment to test if that's this
>Flex hand, can move fine. Take deep breath in and out, can breathe fine.
>It's real, I'm just too terrified to move.
1/2

>>37988934
>the things both make noises and shake from deep low chuckles at my fear
>Do the only thing I can think of
>Pray to God. Ask him to help me over and over.
>Go into a meditation state and pray until fall asleep
>Repeats every night when they come back
>Ashamed to admit it, but being a teen I masturbated in my room quite often during the day time. I assumed they were gone because I didn't see them.
>hide in room a lot because stepmom is emotionally abusive and will say anything to make me, a child, feel like shit.
>One night the demon on my bed chuckles and humps it's hips
>I assume it is mocking a human function it doesn't have since it doesn't even have genitals
>Realize years later as an adult they were watching me in my room all the time even when I thought they weren't there. They were trying to tell me they watched me when I did private things in my room.
>So glad I was too scared and tired to realize what it meant back then. I have a massive fear of being watched or having my thoughts read.
>After two weeks pass, one night I'm in the middle of my praying when I suddenly hear something new and stop
>A loud chime of a bell rang out loud as possible inside my head and echoed through my skull.
>two tiny angels with long white gowns, long brown hair, and white wings, about 4 inches tall fly through my wall on my left like it wasn't there.
>They both had swords they pull out and slash fast and vicious at the demons.
>for once I saw their big eyes grow wide with fear
2/3 oops took longer than I thought

>>37988945
>The one above me raised its arm up in defense as it made an animal like screech
>The one on the ceiling fell to the floor and landed like a defensive cat on all floors flinching at the sword strikes
>the angels are hovering and swooping up and down left and right like tiny fast moving master swordsmen
>Both creatures flee and run on all fours, through my right wall away from the angels
>The angels were hot on their heels in pursuit through the wall after them.
>Sent prayer to God a thank you, roll over, go to sleep
>Never saw anything in that house again

The things I saw later after them were even worse. No happy ending when you move constantly to haunted God damn houses.
Because my mom wouldn't stop trying to tear my dad financially apart, we had to move after a year. My crazy mom wanted revenge and to get my dad to waste money through forced court cases.
3/3

>>37988862
not trying to return to the glory days I just want to make the board better and more interesting. if you're a chronic complainer maybe go stink up those shitty nobody generals instead

>>37988526
Calling out a logic fallacy is actually a logic fallacy and not an argument. You're not yugio and you don't win by calling out moves.

>>37989097
actually calling out a logical fallacy is only a fallacy when I conclude something from it. I never concluded anything from it or used it as an argument so therefore you're wrong.

>>37988854
Can't tell if you're pretending or be me or want to share a real encounter with spooky shit. I've never been outside of the US because I'm poor as shit. I'm disappointed in you especially since the wendigo description you gave is only found on x/ all legends describe a normal ass human who's a crazy cannibal. What x/ calls a wendigo or skin walker doesn't appear in any known legend.

>>37959770
kkek

>>37929958
Actual truefag story:
I live in an old slave house circa 1840s.
I was in my room at the back corner of the house.
I heard a very distinct human whistle from inside.
I thought it was my dad.
He was not home.
There's other weird stuff about the property but nothing interesting enough to tell.

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>>37988956
The orb of black smoke
>Be me
>Be 14
>for the only second time in my life, we moved into a nice apartment that wasn't haunted.
>It was tiny though and my stepmom and dad had big egos so of course the small quaint place wasn't good enough. So we moved out after a year or two.
>We moved into a rental home.
>It's a big gorgeous place with two floors and a beautiful large staircase.
>While the realtor was showing it to us, he showed us the upstairs hallway and pointed to a spot under the attic pull down string in the ceiling.
>He casually mentioned an old Jewish man died in that home in that spot.
>my dad and stepmom don't care and nod like he told them small talk about the weather
>While we lived there everyone was tense and on edge from fear constantly.
>no one would talk about what made everyone so scared.
>Two cats and the two dogs stared at a corner where the staircase downstairs met the wall. All four animals stared with intense focus at empty air
>None of the four would even go upstairs.
>In my room at night I Iaid in bed. I turned off my light and saw a giant ball shaped like a perfect circle in front of my door in the corner of the room. It took up the entire corner from floor to ceiling. Around it's edges were fast flickering hazy, short, stumpy, wisps of smoke. The whole thing looked made up rippling smoke with a center too dense to see through. It was pitch black darker than my dark room.
>could feel an evil happiness coming from it and I could tell it felt joy from my fear.
>I'm convinced it put me into a trance because I told myself it was my imagination and didn't run the hell away. It wasn't until we moved out after 2 years there that I snapped out of it and realized there was no way it was fake back then.
>The thing made me hear and see things to intensify my fear.
>I heard murmuring voices like a party of adults talking in another room where you can't pick out words.
1/3

>>37989996
The noise came from the other side of my bedroom wall. If it wasn't for the fact the other side of my wall was the open staircase, I would have thought my parents had guests over for a party.
>The thing forced me to imagine monsters. But the monsters were like a cardboard cut out compared to it. I would consistently imagine an imp or goblin creature next to my bed. But it was a fixed image that didn't move.
>I would fight the thing by calming myself down.
>the more I calmed, the more it would force me to see scary monsters till I saw a crowd of monsters around my bed.
>but I knew they were fake even when they scared me. They didn't move. Like fake things frozen in place. The thing by contrast was constantly rippling it's smokey short tentacles around it's edges.
It never wavered in my imagination like when I tried to make imaginary friends as a kid. It was solid and always there in the dark, even if I saw it through my mind's eye.
>It was harassing others in the home too even if we didn't talk about it.
>My stepmom mentioned it once to belittle it and then looked terrified up our stairs. I could feel it's happiness it knew she feared it.
>My dad waved sage frantically around to drive it away every 2 weeks. For 2 weeks it would be gone and I would have relief. But it would always come back.
>My father once outside the home told me his psychic friend told him it left and came back when the sage smudge wore off. It would just slip into the next door apartment and wait.
> My mental health deteriorated. Hilarious to me, my stepbrother who was fit and 18 would look at me so terrified if we stopped to talk in the hallway. Maybe it was the blank stare. Maybe it was the crazy laughter from my room because i would binge watch comedy shows to cope. Who knows. But I disturbed him and I thought it was hilarious of course because he was a douche.
>Get extremely depressed.
>Pet hermit crabs died from me being too depressed and my stepmom mocked me for it.
2/3

>>37990008
>Major cunt took every chance to make me feel like shit. She loved to mock me for things I didn't know how to do because I was neglected by my mom.
>Started to read constantly for escapism. Watched TV constantly in my room because my stepmom mocked me for anything she could think of when I stepped out to get water, food, or piss.
>dad's idea of "help" was to shove me outside one day and say "go do something."
>We were in a fucking maze of suburbs with no park within walking distance.
>No sense of direction to speak of.
>Sat on the porch for hours waiting to be let back in.
>Started to draw disturbing pictures of monsters. Started reading JTHM and disturbing comic books with gore and monsters. I liked them because no one could hurt monsters.
>Stepmom got disturbed and said I needed to go to therapy.
>Yeah bitch now that I look like my deteriorated mental health might affect you personally, like I'd snap and kill, then it was time to not fucking neglect.
>the therapist was worse than useless. I have extreme social anxiety (effect of neglect and emotional abuse) and didn't talk the first 3 sessions out of fear. My dad saw it as wasted money and stopped sessions right when my mental health started to just barely improve.
>I made the mistake of getting excited and telling him about practicing chess I wanted to play again with the therapist. My dad was angry and thought his money was spent on playing.
>You know, because his child he neglected the shit out of is supposed to sing like a canary about their feelings in therapy immediately.
>Both parents never asked me my opinion about anything in my entire life so I never questioned the therapy getting taken from me.
>eventually we move out to a big nice house because my dad almost died in a car accident and received a ton of money.
>depression suddenly stopped being so severe. I snapped out of my trance the thing had me in and was fucking terrified it kept me from believing it was real.

I will greentext a story my grandpa told me
>Be Ranger
>Be 1965
>Be Operating in Vietnam
>(read Cambodia/Laos)
>ordered to go to a specific spot and eliminate enemy forces there
>come across a small camp of NVA
>4 men (he was very specific about that for some reason)
>waste them
>looking around, ammo caches AKs, normal shit to find >look in the tent
>dead Russian that was killed in the short firefight
>all kinds of weird tech in the tent
>experimental night vision and shit
>almost on que a blacked out helicopter lands nearby
>paramilitary guys grab up all the strange high tech equipment and the dead russian
>tell them to burn everything, even the bodies
>fly away
I believe him, hes an honest man.

I knew an old man named Foster who lived in Colorado by himself with his dogs and cats. He smoked a pack a day. Growing up I had always heard that he fought in Vietnam, but he didn't talk about it much.
During my senior year of college I took a class called "Vietnam War Era History" which was taught by an ex-Army veteran who was under the auspices of Operation Phoenix. He asked us to either read a book about Vietnam or find a Vietnam vet and interview them.
Long story short I drove up to Colorado with my gf and my buddy. We went skiing and smoked weed.
It finally came time for him to tell his story. I'll greentext it because it will come out better that way.
>Foster joins in '62, volunteered for the draft
>Goes to Ft. Gordon Georgia MP academy
>Joins up with the 560th MP Company
>Gets stationed at the Hood
>Volunteers to go to Vietnam because non-coms are asking for people who want to do something interesting and Foster says "sure"
>Flies in a 4 engine turbo prop from Ft. Hood to Oklahoma, OK to Oakland Cali., Oakland to Hawaii, Hawaii to Wake Island, Wake Island to Guam, Guam to Manilla, Manilla to Saigon PHEW!
>Gets stationed at Ton Son Nhut Airbase
>Jumping Joe Stillwell wanted Helicopter Gunners!
>They needed 16 guys from Foster's company
>Foster, ever the volunteer says "I'll do it"
>Foster's training consists of riding in the back of a pickup truck and shooting at targets with an M2 on the runway at TSN Airbase
>Base is pretty chill
>Enlisted men and officers hang out with each other and are each other's friends because at this point in time Vietnam was the wild west. There weren't any ROES, there really wasn't any conception of civilians being differentiated from the insurgents (Viet Minh/Cong). Remember, this is before Kennedy got killed. Most Americans don't even know Vietnam exists, so US forces did what they wanted. Foster iterated that the VC didn't do much... contd.

>to US forces when he was there because the Vietnamese hadn't yet seen the US as a threat.
>Regardless VC still threw grenades into the base, but Foster never had to haul ass to the bunker to avoid rocket fire.
>After training (which was cursory at best) Foster was a bona fide Helicopter door gunner on the Sikorsky H-19s and H-34s >Foster's crew ferried people all over the place, even up to the DMZ, and more than likely into Laos and Cambodia.
At this point in the story, when Foster started talking about missions, he began to get defensive about his service. I reassured him that I did not judge him negatively and that I appreciated his service.
>Foster killed a lot of people
>Definitely killed women and children
>He said "if there was a guy with an SKS or AK spraying the side of your bird with fire you lit up his whole block"
>The crew would do raids and close air support for guys on the ground (ARVN mostly)
>Foster would rain hellfire down on the entire country of Vietnam with impunity.
>Foster's officer friends were Skyraider pilots
>Some of the Skyraiders had tandem seating
>Foster said the Skyraider pilots would fly up and down the Mekong and blow up Sampans (little wooden boats) with their six .50 cals
>The boats didn't even need to shoot at them or have evidence of being supportive of insurgents
>The pilots were just told to fuck shit up
>Foster said the recoil from all six guns was enough to stall the Skyraider
>Back to door gunner
>Foster got shot at with everything
>arrows, rocks, and of course bullets and RPGs
>One day Foster's tooth hurt
>Goes into Saigon to see French dentist (no American dentists at this point in time)
>Huge throng of locals blocking the street stop Foster and his jeep from continuing
>In the middle of the street/intersection Foster sees a Buddhist monk douse himself in gas and light himself on fire.
>Pretty much at this point Foster literally has a heart attack. He shuffles back to his trailer and... contd.

Pretty much at this point Foster literally has a heart attack. He shuffles back to his trailer and popped some nitro pills to help his heart. After getting everything settled he smokes a cigarette and comes back inside. >Skyraider pilots had pet tigers on base
>Foster continued doing helicopter runs until his tour ended.
>Goes back to the US to do stateside duty
>Enlistment ends and Foster leaves the Army
A few years after he left the military some friendly gentlemen from Angola ask Foster to fight for them against commies in Africa. Foster declined and continued working as a fireman in Louisiana.
Foster died a year later.
I felt I should tell his story here so we can all try to imagine Foster's experiences and remember his service.

>>37930115
I have a story about a lump too, I don't know if it's something supernatural or relevant.
It happened a couple of days ago.

>be me
>my father talks on the phone at 7:00 pm
>he tells me if I can catch him at work, because he has to work the night shift, I mean, he will be a night guard just for that night, because the guard is in the hospital, or he just stops going, I don't know.
>my father's workplace is just minutes from our house, but to get there you have to cross through areas where there are only trees.
>go with my father.
>think “don't worry anon, you just have to walk for a few minutes alone in the middle of the darkness and in the middle of the trees.”
>when I go up a small hill, I feel something fall on my left foot.
>it was something that rolled easily under the leaves, maybe it was the size of half a soccer ball.
>it could have been anything, but I was in the middle of darkness and in an area where there are rumors about paranormal activity.
>just ignore it anon, and keep running.
>finally arrive with my father.

That may have been just a small log that fell on my foot, but I was in the middle of the darkness, so I was a little afraid.

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>>37990021
And now the stupidest fucking paranormal encounter. I wish it wasn't real because it's so goddamn stupid. My friend still teases me about it.

>Be at the creepy apartment with the black orb before we moved out.
>Got super into the paranormal and learned about fairies and plant spirits.
>Had zero friends and loved nature so I fell in love with the idea of making friends with some fairies.
>Found a man's guide from coast to coast
>The man claimed his grandmother told him fairies were plant spirits. They ignored us unless we tried to notice them. They could be kind and the man claimed he befriended one. He said he gifted them whisky in milk on his back porch and they would drink the offering essence.
>Started to try to use the part of your eyes that is like static when you look in a dark room. You're supposed to see invisible figures walking around ignoring us if you focus hard and practice.
>One night after I managed to fall asleep I half woke up.
>I always slept with my window opened with a screen on it to feel the breeze.
>I was laying on my side curled up, facing the window, away from the orb.
>Felt a warm lump against my belly
>Half asleep think it must one of the cats
>Snap wide awake and for the first time realize the cats never came into my room.
>Suddenly a flash of movement as the thing that is about 9 inches tall darts in a flash out my window.
>it passed through the screen like it wasn't there
1/2

>>37990198
Tim Tim the Mighty Gnome. Loved that game as a kid.

>>37990198
>What I saw wasn't scary in the slightest and just baffled me. It was a fucking gnome. Blue shirt, brown pants, white beard, and an incredibly tall and pointy red hat. It leaped out at an angle so I only saw the back of it. But it was a fucking gnome.
>I closed my window and vowed to never sleep with it open or try to talk to plant spirits again.
>asked a paranormal expert friend years later what it was doing. I thought it was feeding on me since I did not give an offering of alcoholic milk. I was also already getting my fear fed on by the orb so I didn't know if it was also trying to eat my energy. If it was sneaking around because it was in the orb's dangerous territory. My friend thought it wanted to help and comfort me. But I refuse to trust anything means me well without proof.

Also yes I know if it could move through a screen, then the window glass was nothing. It was a fucking empty gesture by a scared child. It didn't come back so maybe the open window was an invitation needed enter.

This is the series of events surrounding what I experienced regarding my nephew's death. I am not great at greentexting so... This was early 2000s, I was bouncing between my mom's house and my grandmother's. I was about 12 during the time. Technically I should be at my grandmother's since she has custody of me, but my mom is working on gaining custody of me again so we're bending some rules. During this my mom is given custody of my nephew and niece after my sister abandoned them. Let's call them Edward and Bonnie. During the summer my step dad is released from prison and him and my mom start cooking meth again. Edward is showing behavioral problems, he's a toddler and suffering from the abuse my sister and his dad put him through. Step dad claims he can fix my nephew but it's just code for horrific abuse. November, my grandmother has a fall and needs someone to take care of her, they thought I would be the best person, because yeah that makes sense. Anyways, I am moving back to my grandmother's about 10 hours away from my mom's house. Before I leave, my nephew, in the way a 4 year old speaks, says "you won't see me again, I love you." Tell my grandmother about this and she explains toddlers and babies have object permanence so I thought it was just that. December that same year the phone rings in our kitchen and I answer it, it was my grandmother and our neighbor and they were mid conversation when I answered the phone.

"I can't believe he's dead, she killed him." I hear my grandmother sobbing. Suddenly, my grandmother comes from the living room and asks who was on the line. I look at her and it's obvious she hasn't been crying. Confused, I tell her it was her and our neighbor and asked who died. "Don't be fucking stupid. I wasn't on the phone, and no one died." Turns out, she was outside on the front porch having drinks with said neighbor.

Later that night I had vivid dreams of news reporters talking about a couple killing their grandson. Will post a part two.

Next morning, I am in the living room playing LOZ Wind Waker and I suddenly hear my grandmother screaming from the kitchen. "HE'S DEAD! EDWARD IS DEAD!!!!! SHE KILLED HIM!" I run into the kitchen to find out my step dad and mom killed my nephew. Later that afternoon I hear my grandmother talking on the phone and I pick up the phone trying to easedrop on her conversation. It was the same. exact. conversation. That I heard her and our neighbor have on the phone the day before.

On my grandmother's death bed three years later she held my hand and said "I blame you for Edward's death."

Fast forward to 2016 and I am wandering around a flea market. There's some palm reader there giving free readings, I don't believe in that shit so I keep walking. I end up walking past the palm reader again hours later and this time she's beckoning me over. Me being a shitty edgy young adult, I decide to humor her. I go over and sit down and she grabs my hand "Edward wants you to stop being sad about him dying. It wasn't your fault, you were a child. He loves you and want you to be happy. Edward is here with us now, he's been following you around." Whelp, I believe in the paranormal now.

In 2020 I started to go to therapy to heal from my trauma and all that. And now whenever I dream about confronting my abusers, or something healing related my nephew is there. Smiling and encouraging me.

>>37988323
People are complaining because probably a majority don't care for that kind of content, not sure what's hard to understand about it. Personally, I'm fine just shrugging it off on the grounds of OP's house rules, as there'll be other threads eventually (although the "fakes okay with me" statement in the OP has been annoyingly consistent lately). I'm just tired of that one deranged retard who cries and shits his pants every thread lately whenever a post he doesn't like appears goes all "me oldfag! no fag older than me! you will submit!!!"

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>>37990219
Now that my street cred among this dumpster fire called x/ is in the shitter here's the most terrifying encounter.

>Be me
>Be 19
>Be in boring suburbs home without a single evil entity.
>like the loving assholes my dad and stepmom are, they say I'm a lazy and good for nothing while simultaneously working 12 hour shifts for my dad's business and trying to be his apprentice
>they threaten to kick me out
>Mother who moved to Ohio and I have improved our relationship by now
>take up her offer to move to Ohio
>Get a job, get freedom from income, life is good
>Accept the house I moved to in Ohio had 3 entities and was haunted as SHIT

>around the first week I moved in, a neighbor woman and I started to talk. She said an old man haunted the house. She said he was a sweetheart and she asked him to turn off a light and he did for her when she went there to check on the place for the old owners.
>Said a little girl saw an old man ghost with a bandage on his neck in there.
>It's the most terrifying house I've been in and the sweet old man was scared I think
>I only saw the ghost of a very old man in my closest. I think he possesed me a few times because once my voice became gruff and I became angry in my room when I lost something and didn't talk like myself. My brother in the hallway was watching and stared at me like he didn't know me and was scared. Luckily it wore off.
>At nighttime I would get up to pee once a night
>The upstairs hallway made a + shape.
>Learned from paranormal expert friend at the time that was really bad and crossroads acted as doorway for things to come here. Haven't found any info like that with personal research, but I believe it
>When I woke up I would imagine in vivid detail something I could see through the wall. A dark black creature crouched halfway up the stairs. All doors upstairs were kept shut at night. My room was across from my brother's and the toilet was across from the stairs.
>As soon as I opened my door it moved
1/3

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>>37990701
It was human shaped. It's limbs were too long and too thin. Pitch black with a smooth face without a mouth or eyes.
>It moved its limbs in jerky movements.
>it moved when I moved down the hallway as it moved up the stairs on a all fours bear crawl. It's arms were so long it held its elbows up in the air when it bent it's arms
>I got to the bathroom quickly like a race and closed the door.
>It froze.
>I could feel it's eyes on me when I was forced to look it's way as I closed the bathroom door.
>I never looked at it. But I could sense it's presence like a stain on my perception even if my eyes were closed or the wall was between us.
>Peed
>Took a deep breath with a hand on the door on. I couldn't stay in the bathroom
>Ran to my room as fast as I could
>as I turned to close the door, I saw it. It's head passed the staircase entrance. It turned its head and it was staring right at me. Turning my way to come up as the door... shut. Then it froze. Like a good sport who lost a game. A game with rules only it knew.
>This happened every single night. Since I was convinced I just had an active imagination to cope, I told myself it was fake and my reaction to my fear of the dark.
>Then I realized I never once heard my brother get up at night to pee, get water, anything. He kept his door shut tight
>As a kid he was always up at night and strange hours to the point I screamed at him at 4am for waking me up with donkey Kong intro music on the N64 when we were really little.
>That was the only house he didn't move a muscle to leave that room after dark
>Part of me wonders if he sensed it and had more sense and wants to ask. Another part is scared of confronting the the idea the thing that was on the stairs was real.

>>37990489
Not to be pedantic but you can't generalize like that and say " a majority of people" when you're asserting your own opinion. You have zero stats to back up how the majority feels. You certainly have anecodotal evidence but that is all.

>>37990489
also fwiw I am the one arguing against the guy shitting his pants and crying because he saw an "obviously fake" post and started saying how he was an oldfag. instead of whining people should post good content that they like to drown out the content they don't like to make the board better.

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>>37990804
The shadow man

>Be in the house with the old man ghost and the thing on the stairs
>One day my mom decided for me that I would like the room in the basement better.
>It's a walled off corner of the basement with a door right next to the basement steps. The basement steps line up with the upstairs and downstairs steps.
>I didn't tell her anything about the staircase entity so I have no idea why she got the idea in her head
>Get put in a room that's already decorated with a random chair in the corner
>My mother thought I would be happy after a life time of making no choices, if she chose every part of the room for me.
>No longer see the thing on the stairs because I don't leave my room at night.
>I felt more uneasy being closer to the stairs right outside my door, and had no idea what being directly under them would do if I ventured on to the stairs at night.
>When intuition screams, I listen
>In my room is a new thing only in there.
>A black silhouette of a man in a wide brim hat.
>It's there day or night and it doesn't feel as evil as the staircase creature. It is content to sit in the corner chair and smugly pretend it is it's chair put there for it.
>It had the aura of a leader full of themselves and a part of me wondered if it was the leader of the staircase creature.
>Luckily I didn't have to investigate or discover Jackshit because my mom's marriage crumbled.
>moved into a nice boring apartment with a crazy bitch roommate while my mom and brother moved to Georgia.

>>37990830
Found another writer fag. Maybe don't write something so awful it wouldn't even be worth it to print and wipe my ass with.

>>37990396
That's beautiful. And he was 100% right. You were a kid. You did the thing kids are told: tell an adult. You told an adult. Not your fault at all that the adult dismissed you.

>>37991789
Once again: contribute something or fuck off and go whine somewhere else. You're stinking up the whole thread with your incessant complaints.

>>37989996
>He casually mentioned an old Jewish man died in that home in that spot
jfc, and I'm damn near a stormfag

>>37990166
why would you post this here you fucking retard

>>37936785
we would see them it would be like a feeding frenzy for em

>>37948993
its the aussie pedo guy

>>37988854
>antlers
can you larp any harder? that was never a wendigo thing it's some shit eurofags made up to make it "cooler"

>>37990396
>I believe in the paranormal now.
It is always the small things. For me it was the fucking transforming eyes from a creepy weirdo that just turned into five irises and fused back together. Greentexts and story times just make this stuff sound grandiose or bigger then it actually is, but I believe no matter how mundane it all actually is in reality.

>>37992499
It's a story innit.

>37975867
It should have been me who experienced a secret childhood romance with the sylvan little girl that will forever remain a mistery...
[spoiler]Thanks for the story. Great one.[/spoiler]

I've had a few spooky supernatural experiences due to the girl I was married to at the time.
>Be married to to cute castiza Mexican
>Little titties, fat ass and mad daddy issues
>Didn't know it at the time but also a pathological liar
They story
>Get fever in summer of 2021
>Living in one bedroom apartment with (now ex) wife
>Been sleeping off illness for going on 12 hours, having crazy fever dreams
>Wife decides its a good time to try and do supernatural shit
>Fever of 103, sweating through bedsheets
>Hear banging on apartment walls
>Think its fever dream bullshit
>Wife comes flying in to bedroom and hides under sheets
>That's weird
>Pounding intensifying
>Ask wife what the fuck is going on, keep in mind I'm delirious, sick, and now pissed off cause the bitch woke me up
>"I fucked up anon"
>Pounding getting louder, starting to come to my senses
>Realize my 1911 is in the living room, don't really know what is going on but don't want to deal with it without fire power
>Get up to go into living room
>"DONT GO IN THERE" says the wife
>Ok, now really freaking out
>Whole apartment still pounding, best way I can describe it is like someone beating on the walls, but all of them, at the same time
>Might have been a migraine but I could feel the ponding in my chest, like bass at a concert
>Storm out into living room, see something dark in the corner of the room
>Make a beeline for gun
>Now adequately armed, survey the living room
>Pentagram in middle of floor with candles around it
>This fucking bitch
>Brain registers the dark thing in corner
>7 foot tall void, looks like no face from spirited away without the mask
>We make "eye" contact, no eyes but can tell its looking at me, sizing me up
>Pounding has stopped at this point
>Decide I'm delirious and this is more fever dream bullshit and decide to go back to bed with my 1911
>Walk past the thing glaring at it, it feels...indifference towards me? Boredom?
>Go back to bed
>Cont.

>>37996199
>Cont.
That's the end of the encounter.
A day later my fever broke and I grilled my girl on what the fuck happened. She told me that she was bored and wanted to summon something. She fucked up the ritual and the "something" got loose. For the next couple years I would have nightmares about the "something". Invoking the name of jesus christ seems to piss it off and make it go away, and it hasn't popped up in awhile. I divorced the girl for being a pathological liar among other things.
If anyone has any idea on what she was doing I'm all ears. I was dabbling into the paranormal before this happened, and this event actually turned me back towards the lord as invoking his name seems to be the only thing that works for warding off negative entities. Thinking back I'm not actually sure if it was a pentagram on the floor, but there was SOMETHING ritualist on the floor that she was using. Again the memory is fuzzy.

>>37996199
>You: Glaring 'Are you kidding me? This bitch...'
>Demon: Staring 'Yeah man, I know right?'

Here's one I like:

I saw some strange stuff in a tunnel in Vietnam. I’ve kept my mouth shut for almost 50 years, why the hell would I start talkin’ now. Well friends, terminal cancer will do that to you. Shit you thought you’d take to the grave suddenly becomes shit you desperately wanna tell someone ... anyone. I won’t bore you with a long lament about my time in Vietnam, it was shitty, it was shitty for everyone involved, it was particularly shitty for me as I was 5’3.

If you don’t know what being particularly short during the Vietnam war entailed let me fill you in, you arrive in country and a senior officer points at you and says “You’d be a good fit for the tunnel commandos, wanna join?”. Now technically it’s a question, as service in those platoons was voluntary, but it sure as shit didn’t feel like a question… it felt like an order.

And so that was my burden for the war, to be a “Tunnel Rat”, climbing down into deep, dank, dangerous tunnels filled with people and animals who wanted to kill me. Usually we operated in the huge “Cu Chi” tunnel complex near Saigon, but not on that day, on that day we were ordered to investigate a tunnel complex way up north, west of Da Nang. Two of us were sent into the tunnel that day, myself and Benoit. Now usually black guys managed to avoid becoming “tunnel rats” on account of them being so tall, but Benoit was burdened with the double misfortune of being short and black during the Vietnam war, a curse I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

I was first into the hole and Benoit followed, we both had our Model 39’s, some c4, our wits and not much else. If you're wondering why we carried the small caliber Model 39’s, go fire a Colt .45 in a narrow tunnel and come back to me, the last guy who tried that got a ticket home with blood pouring out of his ears.

We crawled for what felt like an age, the tunnel was a tight fit, which meant it was probably freshly dug, it also stank something foul, that usually meant either spoiled food or some poor VC bastard died down there and was left to rot.

After about 40 minutes of crawling in total silence I saw the tunnel ahead open into a room, I tapped Benoit on the head with my foot, I heard him ready his pistol. I climbed down into the open chamber pointing my pistol at the shadows, the room was dimly lit by a small oil lamp, it was also deserted.

We took a moment to adjust, it was the longest single tunnel segment either of us had ever crawled through, it also had no traps, which was unusual. Where was everyone who dug the damn thing, save for the lamp hanging from the roof and a canvas tarp on the opposite wall the room was empty.

I approached the tarp and used my pistol to move it aside, behind the tarp was a stone staircase leading down. “A stone staircase, this far underground?” I whispered to Benoit, “VC didn’t build this, this is old, very old, older than America old” Benoit whispered back with fear in his voice. “We’ve come this far, we have to keep going”, I replied.

We both walked slowly down the narrow staircase, our flashlights had red lenses and I swear the illuminated staircase looked like we were descending into hell. The staircase was almost as deep as the tunnel was long, finally I saw the staircase blocked by another tarp, light was coming from the other side. I moved aside the tarp with my pistol, my finger trembled on the trigger. My eyes lit up, my heart raced, I almost pulled the trigger … but I didn’t… something made me pause. The room had at least 10 people in it, none of them armed.

I pointed my pistol at the group and illuminated them with my flashlight, they didn’t respond, they just stood there rocking gently forward and back. “Benoit, don’t shoot, there's people in here, but there’s... something wrong with them.”

I stepped into the tiny room which was lit only by small candles, Benoit followed, we both shone our flashlights at the people, they paid no attention, they continued to rock gently forward and back.

I shone my flashlight in one of their faces, I clicked my fingers, she didn’t respond. Her clothes told me she was VC, they were all VC, three women and seven men, all gently rocking forward and back, not a care in the fucking world. Their eyes were a solid color, which color I can’t really say as I could only illuminated them with my red flashlight.

Benoit motioned with his flashlight to the corner, their rifles all sat in a pile... badly rusted. “Jesus Christ, Benoit how long have these poor fuckers been down here?”, “I don’t think Jesus Christ frequents this establishment” came Benoit’s terrified response in his thick cajun accent. I shone my light to the front of the room, the VC were all facing a small altar, I walked toward it. On the simple stone plinth stood a gold statue illuminated by several candles. The statue was ornately crafted, it was of a beautiful naked woman, the top half anyway, the bottom half was something like an octopus, dozens of tiny gold tentacles had been meticulously crafted to woman's torso instead of legs. The statue had some writing at it’s base, a writing I didn’t recognise, I reached out to pick the statue up and take a better look but Benoit shouted “Stop, don’t touch it”.

I retracted my hand about an inch from the statue, “We need to leave this place ... quickly” Benoit said as he put his hand on my shoulder. “Are we just gonna leave them like this?” I said as I shone my light in their eyes, “We’ll plant the C4 charges and put them on a 90 minute timer” he said,he was already removing the C4 from a pouch on his belt.

“They’re unarmed…” I implored turning to Benoit, “These people are dead, maybe worse than dead, I saw something like this once before, at home in the Bayou”. I didn’t argue any longer, we planted the C4 charges in a rush, set the timers for 90 minutes and ran up the stone staircase as fast as we could, it felt like a lifetime till we reached the small room with the lamp. I climbed into the tunnel and Benoit followed, suddenly we could hear a woman's voice faintly calling from far behind us, “Ignore it, keep moving!!!!” Benoit shouted from behind me, I didn’t need to be told, I wasn’t going back.

It was the longest crawl of my life, I saw daylight and kept crawling even though my hands were raw and bloodied. I emerged into the light of day and gasped for fresh air, Benoit followed. We warned the others about the C4 charges but told them nothing else. Benoit and I sat in total silence away from the tunnel entrance... waiting...praying.

The ground shook, a dull thud was heard and a spray of dirt emerged from the tunnel. We both breathed a sigh of relief. It is only after an experience like that, that you ask yourself the small questions. To this day I still ask myself, “Who the fuck was keeping the candles lit in that damn room?”.

>>37957836
I still cant believe he ran away, i would have used my aj36 to kill it.

>>37995948
shit formatting but you're still so real for this

I told you already I wouldn’t bore you with most of the details of my time in Vietnam. I also won’t ever refer to it as “Nam”, as I found after returning home, it’s the rear echelon assholes who spent the war pencil pushing who most like to put on a husky voice and say “Nam”, in some deep and mournful way.

The short story is, after the incident in the tunnels west of Da Nang, Benoit and I were a little messed up, so we were useless for tunnel work. Both of us were transferred into two separate regular platoons in the mechanized infantry. About a month after that, I was on a search and destroy mission when a rookie stepped over a VC tripwire, the tripwire was connected to one of our own captured claymores. The claymore blew the rookies legs off and lodged a bunch of metal and bone fragments in the side of my torso.

I survived, and for my trouble I got a ticket home, well I say home, but I really I got a ticket to a military hospital called “Camp Zama” in Japan. They managed to pull most of the bits of shrapnel out of my torso over two operations. The hospital was dangerously overcrowded, at night the screaming of the other patients was horrendous and the stench reminded me of that fucking tunnel.

I was actually happy when, due to overcrowding I was transferred to a much older building in the complex. It was some type of disused asylum ward, a total wreck, it only had maybe 15 patients, mostly guys with minor injuries. But I didn’t care, it was far enough away from the main buildings that I didn’t have to hear the poor bastards screaming for their mothers every night.

I was on the mend, which was a blessing and a curse. My tour wasn’t up and if I was declared fit to serve I might be sent back to Vietnam, and I wasn’t going back, not after what I saw in that tunnel.

Two American military doctors and a female Japanese nurse arrived to assess my situation late one evening, “Your injuries seem to be healing quite well”, said one stern faced doctor, “Physically at least” said the second doctor who wore narrow glasses, the first doctor gave him a look that could cut glass.

The doctor wearing the glasses was clearly the psychiatrist, he would have to be my ticket home, if I could convince him I had lost my mind, but I couldn’t overplay my hand. The nurse just stood behind them diligently taking notes.

“How is your emotional state?, have you had any troubling thoughts?, I understand you were a tunnel commando”, probed the psychiatrist. “Yes, I...I sometimes have nightmares about the things I saw in the tunnels, I... sometimes think about… harming myself”, I put a quiver into my voice to add to the effect, but neither of them were buying it, I've never been a good liar. How fucked up a situation was this, that after the shit I saw I needed to fake being mentally unstable just to get a ticket home, I was despondent and I dropped the act. Much as I wanted to go home I couldn’t tell them about what happened in the tunnels, I wanted to go home but not to be thrown in a mental asylum. “What kind of things did you see in the tunnels?” the psychiatrist asked calmly. “Doc, near Da Nang I went down into the deepest, darkest tunnel you can imagine, and if I told you what I saw in that tunnel you wouldn’t believe me anyway, so just write whatever you need to on your clipboards and leave me be”. The stern faced doctor was unimpressed with my tone, but as I was speaking the Japanese nurse stopped taking notes, her face went deathly pale and she stared at me with a look of terror on her face.

“Well, we’ll check on you again tomorrow, try to get some rest” said the psychiatrist who had a curious look on his face, and with that they all shuffled off, the nurse stared back at me as they went, her face still pale with fear. I went to sleep that night knowing that soon they would send me back to Vietnam.

I awoke late that night to the whispering voice of a woman, I couldn’t hear where it was coming from. I got out of bed and walked uneasily, rolling my drip along with me. The woman's voice was coming from the next corridor, it must be that nurse I thought, but the voice sounded all too familiar.

I wasn’t going walking the halls without a weapon, I searched the unmanned nurses station. I found a scalpel in one of the drawers, it would have to do. I shuffled through the large wooden doors leading to the next corridor, the light bulbs flickered in the dimly lit corridor , the paint was was peeling off the walls. Far to the end of the corridor I could see the shape of a woman standing near a window looking out into the night. I shuffled toward her with the scalpel leading the way, rolling my drip with my left hand. As I approached the faint whispers became louder and I could finally make out the words, “DEFILER, COME TO THE RED HOUSE” it whispered. My drip caught in a cracked tile on the floor, making an awful clanking sound, the woman turned and moved quickly toward me, my heart raced in terror, I prepared the scalpel.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed”, it was the nurse, a lit cigarette in her hand, she must have been smoking by the window, her english was near perfect, she must have been the daughter of an American GI, many of them married Japanese women after the the second world war ended. “Why were you whispering to me?”, I asked still pointing the scalpel. “I wasn’t whispering”, she said confused and frightened.

“You were whispering, you called me ... ‘defiler’, what does that mean?” I demanded, my hand clutching the scalpel. Once again her face took on the same pale terrified look, the cigarette dropped from her hand “You’re not safe here in Japan, or back in Vietnam, they’ll be looking for you” her voice trembled as she spoke, “Who... who’ll be looking for me”, I implored her.

“I don’t know what they call themselves, every place has a different name for them. ‘The Silent Plague’ is the translation of what we call them here in Japan. All I know for certain is, they will be looking for you, maybe you will be safe if you get back to America”, her words offered little comfort. “You have to help me... you have to convince the doctors that I’m crazy”, I said to her, almost begging. “I will try... give me the scalpel” she said calmly.

I handed her the scalpel and as quick as I had handed it to her, she slashed it across my arm. I roared out in pain, she dropped the scalpel and grabbed my hand putting pressure on the wound. “This is the only way” she said, I instantly realized her plan. Two orderlies came rushing into the old corridor from an adjoining corridor, alerted by my screams. “Get me some bandages, he’s trying to kill himself” she roared at the men, one of the orderlies ran for bandages, the other ran over to support me. I slunk down into the orderlies arms, more from pageantry than blood loss, the wound wasn’t that deep, I had suffered much worse before, she had done a good job. I was put back in bed and stitched up, the next night I was visited by the psychiatrist, he was alone. He looked at me coldly, noted something on my chart and asked, “Have you been hearing voices or ... whispers?”. “No” I replied quickly. “It’s funny, we had a young soldier from Louisiana in here about three weeks before you arrived, he was also a tunnel commando.

He claimed he was hearing ... ‘whispers’, but he could never tell me what they said, we had to send the poor fellow home”.

The psychiatrist maintained his usual cold, clinical composure, but his eyes seemed to burn with a fanatic rage. “If you did hear … whispers, and they told you something, a secret maybe, you would tell me wouldn’t you?”.

“I’m not hearing any voices or whispers”, I responded with as much resolve as I could muster. The rage slowly faded from his eyes. “You are being transferred to a hospital in the US, you’ll be assigned a psychiatrist there.” he said before pausing, “I hope when you get home, you will find whatever it is in life you are searching for”, and with that he smiled and walked away.

He knew I was lying to him.

That very night I was driven to the airport and pushed in a wheelchair into a C-130 by an MP. The flight was filled with men who were broken physically or mentally, and most probably a few guys like me, just desperate not to go back to Vietnam, but unlike them I ‘was’ actually hearing voices, but I wasn’t crazy.

The flight took off, I breathed a sigh of relief. I removed my dog tags, praying I would never need them again. I opened the zipper on my bag to put the dog tags inside, and there staring back at me was a small crudely made clay replica of the golden statue I had seen in the tunnels.

So what happened when you got home, I hear you ask. Well, for a while very little, I was kept in the hospital for about three weeks, the new psychiatrist seemed swamped with work and saw I wasn’t really a danger to myself or others and so I was discharged. I tried finding Benoit as soon as I could, but he had gone “off the grid” as they might say these days, but in truth disappearing back then was as simple as not listing your name in the damn phonebook. Despite living in the guy's pocket for eight months of my life I knew very little about him, I knew he was from a couple of hours west of New Orleans and he had a sister named Marie, not exactly solid facts to track a man down by.

Soon I gave up trying, I just decided to try and forget about everything, Vietnam, the tunnel ,the woman’s voice, but the damn statue was always there as a constant reminder, I kept it wrapped in cloth afraid to touch the damn thing. Eventually I did what every other person in New York did with something they wanted to get rid of, I threw it in the East River, it would find good company down there with all the discarded mob weapons and photos of ex-girlfriends.

I had a small amount of money coming in from my veteran disability payments, I topped this up by working odd jobs, when I could find the work that is. New York in 1969 wasn’t exactly a fun place to be, the city stank from uncollected garbage and there seemed to be a strike or a riot every other day, the teachers, the sanitation workers, hell it got so bad even the gays started rioting, and they always seemed a peaceful bunch to me. I lived down near Greenwich Village so I was right in the middle of the mess. Crime was also a huge problem and I rarely left the apartment without my pistol, and that's how it went for about six months, I worked a little and tried to avoid getting shot or stabbed.

Then one night out of the blue the phone rang. I generally only got calls from “Cold Call” companies , it was a relatively new thing back then and every asshole outfit with a phone was trying to sell their crap.
I picked up the phone, “I don’t wanna buy radiators, life assurance or mortgage protection, so go fuck yourself”, I calmly said, there was a tiny pause,
“It’s Philippe... Philippe Benoit, I see you haven’t lost your way with words” came the response.
“Benoit, Jesus I tried tracking you down when I got back from Vietnam, I couldn't find a trace of you, where the hell have you been?”
“New Orleans… look I don’t wanna say too much over the phone but I received a very strange package in the mail, turns out someone was able to track me down”, my heart sank with the news, I didn’t need to ask what was in the package, I could guess.
“Can you come down to New Orleans?, I could offer you work and a place to crash if you need it. Do you have anything pressing keeping you in New York?”
I looked out the window as I listened to Benoit on the phone, two nypd officers were beating the everloving shit out of some guy with batons, a small group nearby were raining bottles at them.
“Yeah, I could do with getting out of New York for a while, I could be there in a few days”, I replied.

Benoit filled me in on the details of where to meet, he didn’t wanna talk on the phone as if he thought someone might be listening. The next morning I threw what little possessions I had into my old beaten up Impala and hit the road, I didn’t bother giving notice to the landlord of my fleabag apartment.
You might think me mad for taking the trip to New Orleans, I suppose I could have just hung up the phone and forgot about Benoit and the things we saw, but that's just not me.