Great Cthulhu
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Creepypasta - Part 2
- Thread starter Thread Manager
- Start date
Great Cthulhu
Civilian
- Joined
- Dec 28, 2013
- Messages
- 602
- Reaction score
- 1
- Points
- 13
[YT]qK70LT0nIks[/YT]
Great Cthulhu
Civilian
- Joined
- Dec 28, 2013
- Messages
- 602
- Reaction score
- 1
- Points
- 13
Last edited:
Great Cthulhu
Civilian
- Joined
- Dec 28, 2013
- Messages
- 602
- Reaction score
- 1
- Points
- 13
Someone Died in my Home and I think They're Still Here
I've been reading creepy stories on NoSleep for three years, but I never thought I'd end up being in one. The last few months have been the strangest and most frightening of my life. Most of my friends think I've gone a bit mad, or I’m making it up. So where else was I supposed to vent but on this subreddit?
It seems ridiculous typing this, but I’m sure my new flat is haunted, and believe me when I say: I wish it was all in my mind. It's not the most spacious of flats, I didn't buy it because I loved it, but it was all I could afford in an area close to work. The building isn't all that old, maybe twenty years or so, and the flat itself, which is three stories up, is quite modern inside, with wooden flooring and white walls. There are two bedrooms, one of which has been the focal point for everything that’s occurred.
When I moved in I threw everything I couldn't find a place for into the second bedroom; I’ve never been the most organised and I do tend to hoard things if I’m honest. The spare room was filled with rolled up posters, tools, DVDs, boxes of clothes and even some old bedroom furniture I still had left over from my last place. There wasn't much room to move around in there, so you can imagine my surprise when I heard something unthinkable coming from inside.
It all started about two weeks after I moved in. I was cooking dinner in the kitchen one evening and I had zoned out while stirring some pasta, listening to a podcast as I often do to get through the boredom of cooking. That was when I heard it.
The boiling water faded into the background as I realised that the sound of bubbles forming and bursting had been joined by a very distinct noise. I could hear the sound of footsteps walking slowly down the hall towards where I was. My nerves began to rattle; someone had broken into my flat and was making their way to where I stood. I grabbed a kitchen knife - for those who think this is extreme I've been burgled once before - and slowly made my way into the living room and then towards the hall. Just as I reached the hall doorway, the footsteps sped up to running pace, followed by a door slamming violently.
The hall was dark at first, as it has no windows, and as I entered it I felt like a child terrified of his own shadow, quickly reaching for the light. The front door lay at the end of the hallway, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that I thought about running to it and leaving the flat and any unseen intruder behind.
My imagination started to run riot and as my mind played with images of an attacker lurking behind one of the other three doors present, I nervously smiled to myself. I began to suspect that the footsteps had come from somewhere else, perhaps the flat above me. Still, I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that I was not alone.
First, I peeked nervously into the hall cupboard. Nothing there but bedsheets and towels. Then I checked my bedroom - the only crime being committed in there the mess of the place.
Finally, I stood in front of the door to the second bedroom; the spare room. Swinging it open I let out a sigh of relief that the room was still filled with junk, but otherwise empty. At the time I put it down to my imagination, but now I know that it was the earliest indicator that something was wrong, that something was in the flat with me.
I'd say about a week or so passed before anything happened again, and by then I’d put the footsteps out of my mind. It was a Sunday afternoon. I’d had a bad cold that week and work had been difficult to get through, so I just stayed in the flat over the weekend hoping I’d feel better by the morning.
I was sitting on the living room couch binge watching a TV show. The light was streaming through the windows, and my mind was as far away as possible from anything frightening or supernatural. Suddenly, and with no warning, someone walked into the living room behind me and marched straight through into the kitchen. I was startled, and when I turned around I only caught the last moments of the kitchen door being slammed shut with a bang.
For some reason my first reaction was to start shouting and swearing that I was going to cause whoever was in the kitchen real bodily harm. I wanted to frighten them away, but really it was I who was terrified.
I ran into my bedroom and grabbed a golf club from my set, which had been languishing in a cupboard since I’d moved in. As I wandered into the hall, the fear got the better of me. I unlocked the front door, opened it, and ran out into the hallway, which I share with the other residents, and then out into the street. After a minute or so I was around the corner out of sight, phoning for the police.
30 Minutes later, the police arrived. I only entered the flat once they had searched it thoroughly for the intruder. Nothing seemed to have been stolen, but the kitchen door had been shut as I thought. The police entered the room, but found no one and told me that if someone had been in the flat, that they had already left.
The kitchen itself was intact, but bizarrely the intruder had turned on the lights, opened the oven and left it running on a high heat. The police seemed satisfied that no one was there, and while they told me to phone the local police station if I saw anyone suspicious, it seemed clear to me that they thought I had imagined the entire thing. Even I began to question it myself, wondering if I’d left the oven on from the night before and forgotten about it, dosed up on cough medicine.
The following night I knew there was more than just my imagination at play. I tried to put the previous day out of my mind, but the sounds of footsteps and banging doors stayed with me. I’ve always thought the best remedy for a weary mind is sleep, so that’s what I intended to do.
I went through my nightly routine before going to bed:
Front door locked - check.
Windows closed - check.
TV and other appliances switched off - check.
I shuffled off to bed, curled up and put the TV on so I had something to fall asleep to, the noise keeping me company and any paranoid thoughts at bay. Then, about five minutes later, I heard an unmistakable noise. A click. It was the light switch in the hall and was accompanied by light trickling underneath my door into my room.
I’m sure I must have taken in a sharp inhalation of air, but I remained silent; still and frozen. Someone was standing at my bedroom door. I could hear the floorboards creak under the weight. Before I had time to react, the intruder walked slowly down the hall away from my room, stopped for a moment, and then - I was sure of it - entered the spare room.
It took me a few seconds to piece together what had just happened. For a moment I hesitated again, wondering if I should phone the police or whether this was just another flight of fancy. Suddenly I heard a loud clattering noise. My things being thrown around violently.
I called the police quickly and then frantically moved a wardrobe up against my bedroom door, hoping that I would be left alone. Then I heard the intruder again. A door creaked open quietly, almost inaudibly, and slowly, surely, the footsteps began walking towards my bedroom door. They then stopped right outside my room, as if the person were about to enter. That was the most terrifying thing, having to wait to see what the intruder would do next. Suddenly, I heard a banging sound - the police were knocking on my outside door. The footsteps then turned, marched down the hall into the living room and then kitchen, before ending the entire ordeal abruptly with a loud bang of a slammed door.
By the time I let the police into my flat, I was visibly shaken. And yet they found very little: at first. The kitchen was as it had been before. The oven door lying open, spewing out heat into the night.
The spare room, however, was another story entirely. Everything in there had been violently thrown around, much of it broken and torn. An old mirror smashed, and most of the boxes and furniture upturned. I swore to the police that the intruder had never left, that they couldn’t have, and that they must still have been in the flat somewhere, hiding. But that suggestion was greeted with an unhealthy amount of incredulity.
I won’t bore you with the details, but these strange events continued for over two months. Sometimes it would be something small, a piece of furniture out of place, a light switching on by itself. But on three separate occasions the same exact occurrences which had left me barricaded in my room took place. Footsteps in the hall, the spare room left in disarray, and then the slamming of the kitchen door and the oven lying open.
Eventually, even on the quiet nights, the fear of something happening became too much for me. The anticipation took a heavy toll. Most nights nothing would occur, but then on others the same ghostly footsteps would wander through my home. I just couldn’t sleep there any longer. Finally, I couldn’t bear it any longer and so I spent several nights at my brother’s just to get a good night’s sleep. I told him the truth, but he just seemed more worried about my state of mind than anything else. I don’t blame him, I can imagine how it all must have appeared.
After a few days, he offered a solution of sorts - he would house sit with me. He wanted to see these occurrences for himself. I didn’t enter back into the flat lightly, but if someone else experienced what I had, it at least would confirm to me that I wasn’t going mad.
I slept on an airbed on my bedroom floor while my brother slept in my bed for three nights in a row, with nothing strange occurring. Then, finally, on the fourth night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard it: click. The light in the hall came on. My brother sat up startled and looked down at me on the floor, his expression one of disbelief.
He whispered for me to get up, which I did. We then listened. The footsteps gradually appeared, as if starting from somewhere far off. They continued, growing louder as they walked slowly towards my bedroom door. I think that’s the first time in my life when I’ve seen my brother genuinely scared. As the footsteps neared, he jumped out of bed and dragged my wardrobe in front of the door.
It was then that he made himself quite clear, whispering in a low voice. He hadn’t thought that anything would happen, in fact he just came and stayed with me to set my nerves at ease or to prove that I was sleep walking and causing the issues myself.
He didn’t believe, but as the footsteps stopped outside the bedroom door, he swore under his breath and stood by the window. I think it was a natural reaction, to look for a possible exit, but being three stories up, there wasn’t anywhere to go.
Then it played out as before. The footsteps turned and walked away from us down the hall. They entered the spare room, which was followed by the noise of my things in there being thrown around. Finally, the footsteps walked to my door again, stood, and then marched down to the kitchen, slamming the door behind.
Neither of us slept the rest of the night, and in the morning my brother recommended that I leave that place behind, and find a new home - easier said than done. As a condition of my mortgage I couldn’t sell the place until I had officially been living there for 2 years.
He offered for me to sleep at his until I could find somewhere else to rent in order to wait the two years out, but I just couldn’t afford it. My brother and his wife had two kids, and were trying for a third, in a 2 bedroom house. Staying there was no long term solution for any of us.
Later that day he phoned me, overly excited by the idea that he had found a solution. He had been doing some research online to see if other people had experienced similar strange goings on in their homes, and what they had done, if anything, to stop them from happening.
He told me that he’d read a couple of similar accounts - footsteps, lights being switched on and off, furniture being thrown around violently. One family from Arizona in the U.S. had supposedly ‘got rid’ of a similar unwelcome house-mate by simply confronting it. Several ‘experts’ - and I use that term lightly - believed that poltergeists and other ‘noisy ghosts’ behaved in such a way because they were confused and reacted violently to this disorientation.
I was sceptical, but as my brother continued it began to seem less ridiculous and worth a try at least, especially if it meant I didn’t have to sleep on someone’s floor for the next two years until I could sell the flat.
He then told me that one of these experts believed that such disturbances occur when the spirit of someone who has passed doesn’t realise it is dead. When it wanders around a place which it used to call home, it sees objects, belongings etc. which are unfamiliar, and simply cannot understand why. In this utter confusion, it lashes out, mostly at possessions, but occasionally at people who it sees as invaders of its home. One particular instance was reported in a family home. A bedroom would be thrown into disarray because it used to be the deceased’s. By confronting the spirit while it was manifest and telling it that it no longer lived their, and that it had passed on, the entity ‘dissipated’ and moved on.
It all seemed like mumbo jumbo to me, but then so too did the very idea of a ghost - and by this point I was convinced one was living, or unliving, in my flat.
We agreed then that we would at least try to confront it. I have to say I was curious, but part of me wanted to just leave it all behind. My brother had the idea that we should clear the spare room out completely, and sleep in there each night until the footsteps appeared. It made sense, as that was a focal point for the disturbances, but the entire wait filled me with apprehension.
On the second night, it happened.
There we were, sleeping on the floor like we did when we had sleepovers as kids, waiting in the spare room for something we didn’t understand to appear. With everything removed, the room seemed bare, and I felt a strange sadness for the place, an emptiness.
At around 1AM, I first heard it. Somehow I knew it would appear that night; I felt it in the atmosphere, like the tension before a storm.
Click.
The hall light came on. My brother looked at me with a mixture of fright and excitement. Silence. Then, the footsteps began. They walked slowly down the hall to my bedroom door. And there they waited, while we waited also, in the place where my belongings had been bashed and broken over and over. Finally, they turned and began their slow shuffling walk towards the spare room - where we now lay.
By the time the footsteps reached the door, my brother and I were both on our feet. I’ve never been so scared, and I could hear the terror in my brother’s shaking breath. Then, the handle turned slowly. The door opened.
Nothing.
There was nothing there, just an empty doorway. My brother had taken out his phone and was recording video, but he couldn’t see anything but thin air. I can’t remember the exact words we used, but between the two of us we hesitated, finally conveying that if anyone was there, they were dead, and that they no longer lived in the flat and needed to accept it and ‘move on’.
Nothing, again.
We waited for a moment. And as I turned to my brother to smile and suggest that perhaps it had worked. The door slammed shut and the light in the spare room went out. Utter darkness.
I panicked, and I’m a little ashamed to say I screamed for help, the fear of being trapped welling up inside me. I could hear my brother fumbling around. He told me to be calm. I wasn’t. He told me to look for the door. I couldn’t find it, disorientated by the dark as if the room had changed somehow. It felt smaller, cramped and stifled.
Then, in the darkness, I heard it. My brother clearly did too, as he swore under his breath asking if the sound was coming from me. My voice wavered and I simply said ‘no’. Behind us, in the gloom of that little room, we could hear breathing. The breaths were long and somehow carried threat with them. And then, a horrible inhaled gasp, followed by the deafening scream of a man right behind me.
Terror overcame me, and as I finally found the door, my brother knocked into me in the pitch black and headed out into the hallway, with me quickly behind. In the fevered escape I lost my footing and managed to fall onto my side, on the floor directly in front of the open door to the blackness of the spare room.
The wind had been knocked out of me, but if I could have I would have cried out in horror at what I saw. The light in the spare room flicked back on, revealing a figure standing in the room, facing the wall. It began to turn slowly, and as it did I could see what I can only describe as a face, its skin bloated and tinged with a bruised blue, and its hair oily and straggled.
I kicked the door shut, and as my brother helped me to my feet we ran out of the flat, only to hear the spare room door open behind us, and running footsteps heading once more into the kitchen. We did not look back.
I haven’t slept in the flat since then, in fact I could only step foot in it to retrieve some of my things when accompanied by my brother and two of my friends; during the day. I refuse to sleep there, and between my family and myself have managed to find the money needed to rent elsewhere while I wait to sell the place. It’s further from work and the area isn’t as nice, but I really don’t care.
After speaking to the couple who lived there before me, you might already suspect what they told me in way of an explanation. They too heard footsteps occasionally in the hall at night, but nothing else of consequence, and happily lived there with their young son for a few years. What they could tell me was that they had bought the flat from an estate agent and knew fine well the history, but not being superstitious, they knew they had a bargain on their hands if they ignored what had happened.
The original owner had lived there by himself. By all accounts he was a very private person, and so no one in the building knew him very well. One night a terrible scream was heard from the man’s flat (and believe me, it is his). When neighbours went to his door he did not answer, and soon afterwards the smell of gas filled the hallway outside. The emergency services were called and the building evacuated. When they entered the flat they found the man’s bedroom in disarray, his belongings torn and broken up. In the kitchen they discovered his dead body, kneeling on the floor, half sticking out of the oven, his skin blue due to asphyxiation.
I’ve thought about the entire events often, wondered why the man’s ghost still lingers there. I’ve wondered why he made his presence felt more strongly to me than those who lived there before me. Most of all there is one question, for some unknown reason, which never seems to leave me. What made him scream in the first place?
I've been reading creepy stories on NoSleep for three years, but I never thought I'd end up being in one. The last few months have been the strangest and most frightening of my life. Most of my friends think I've gone a bit mad, or I’m making it up. So where else was I supposed to vent but on this subreddit?
It seems ridiculous typing this, but I’m sure my new flat is haunted, and believe me when I say: I wish it was all in my mind. It's not the most spacious of flats, I didn't buy it because I loved it, but it was all I could afford in an area close to work. The building isn't all that old, maybe twenty years or so, and the flat itself, which is three stories up, is quite modern inside, with wooden flooring and white walls. There are two bedrooms, one of which has been the focal point for everything that’s occurred.
When I moved in I threw everything I couldn't find a place for into the second bedroom; I’ve never been the most organised and I do tend to hoard things if I’m honest. The spare room was filled with rolled up posters, tools, DVDs, boxes of clothes and even some old bedroom furniture I still had left over from my last place. There wasn't much room to move around in there, so you can imagine my surprise when I heard something unthinkable coming from inside.
It all started about two weeks after I moved in. I was cooking dinner in the kitchen one evening and I had zoned out while stirring some pasta, listening to a podcast as I often do to get through the boredom of cooking. That was when I heard it.
The boiling water faded into the background as I realised that the sound of bubbles forming and bursting had been joined by a very distinct noise. I could hear the sound of footsteps walking slowly down the hall towards where I was. My nerves began to rattle; someone had broken into my flat and was making their way to where I stood. I grabbed a kitchen knife - for those who think this is extreme I've been burgled once before - and slowly made my way into the living room and then towards the hall. Just as I reached the hall doorway, the footsteps sped up to running pace, followed by a door slamming violently.
The hall was dark at first, as it has no windows, and as I entered it I felt like a child terrified of his own shadow, quickly reaching for the light. The front door lay at the end of the hallway, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that I thought about running to it and leaving the flat and any unseen intruder behind.
My imagination started to run riot and as my mind played with images of an attacker lurking behind one of the other three doors present, I nervously smiled to myself. I began to suspect that the footsteps had come from somewhere else, perhaps the flat above me. Still, I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that I was not alone.
First, I peeked nervously into the hall cupboard. Nothing there but bedsheets and towels. Then I checked my bedroom - the only crime being committed in there the mess of the place.
Finally, I stood in front of the door to the second bedroom; the spare room. Swinging it open I let out a sigh of relief that the room was still filled with junk, but otherwise empty. At the time I put it down to my imagination, but now I know that it was the earliest indicator that something was wrong, that something was in the flat with me.
I'd say about a week or so passed before anything happened again, and by then I’d put the footsteps out of my mind. It was a Sunday afternoon. I’d had a bad cold that week and work had been difficult to get through, so I just stayed in the flat over the weekend hoping I’d feel better by the morning.
I was sitting on the living room couch binge watching a TV show. The light was streaming through the windows, and my mind was as far away as possible from anything frightening or supernatural. Suddenly, and with no warning, someone walked into the living room behind me and marched straight through into the kitchen. I was startled, and when I turned around I only caught the last moments of the kitchen door being slammed shut with a bang.
For some reason my first reaction was to start shouting and swearing that I was going to cause whoever was in the kitchen real bodily harm. I wanted to frighten them away, but really it was I who was terrified.
I ran into my bedroom and grabbed a golf club from my set, which had been languishing in a cupboard since I’d moved in. As I wandered into the hall, the fear got the better of me. I unlocked the front door, opened it, and ran out into the hallway, which I share with the other residents, and then out into the street. After a minute or so I was around the corner out of sight, phoning for the police.
30 Minutes later, the police arrived. I only entered the flat once they had searched it thoroughly for the intruder. Nothing seemed to have been stolen, but the kitchen door had been shut as I thought. The police entered the room, but found no one and told me that if someone had been in the flat, that they had already left.
The kitchen itself was intact, but bizarrely the intruder had turned on the lights, opened the oven and left it running on a high heat. The police seemed satisfied that no one was there, and while they told me to phone the local police station if I saw anyone suspicious, it seemed clear to me that they thought I had imagined the entire thing. Even I began to question it myself, wondering if I’d left the oven on from the night before and forgotten about it, dosed up on cough medicine.
The following night I knew there was more than just my imagination at play. I tried to put the previous day out of my mind, but the sounds of footsteps and banging doors stayed with me. I’ve always thought the best remedy for a weary mind is sleep, so that’s what I intended to do.
I went through my nightly routine before going to bed:
Front door locked - check.
Windows closed - check.
TV and other appliances switched off - check.
I shuffled off to bed, curled up and put the TV on so I had something to fall asleep to, the noise keeping me company and any paranoid thoughts at bay. Then, about five minutes later, I heard an unmistakable noise. A click. It was the light switch in the hall and was accompanied by light trickling underneath my door into my room.
I’m sure I must have taken in a sharp inhalation of air, but I remained silent; still and frozen. Someone was standing at my bedroom door. I could hear the floorboards creak under the weight. Before I had time to react, the intruder walked slowly down the hall away from my room, stopped for a moment, and then - I was sure of it - entered the spare room.
It took me a few seconds to piece together what had just happened. For a moment I hesitated again, wondering if I should phone the police or whether this was just another flight of fancy. Suddenly I heard a loud clattering noise. My things being thrown around violently.
I called the police quickly and then frantically moved a wardrobe up against my bedroom door, hoping that I would be left alone. Then I heard the intruder again. A door creaked open quietly, almost inaudibly, and slowly, surely, the footsteps began walking towards my bedroom door. They then stopped right outside my room, as if the person were about to enter. That was the most terrifying thing, having to wait to see what the intruder would do next. Suddenly, I heard a banging sound - the police were knocking on my outside door. The footsteps then turned, marched down the hall into the living room and then kitchen, before ending the entire ordeal abruptly with a loud bang of a slammed door.
By the time I let the police into my flat, I was visibly shaken. And yet they found very little: at first. The kitchen was as it had been before. The oven door lying open, spewing out heat into the night.
The spare room, however, was another story entirely. Everything in there had been violently thrown around, much of it broken and torn. An old mirror smashed, and most of the boxes and furniture upturned. I swore to the police that the intruder had never left, that they couldn’t have, and that they must still have been in the flat somewhere, hiding. But that suggestion was greeted with an unhealthy amount of incredulity.
I won’t bore you with the details, but these strange events continued for over two months. Sometimes it would be something small, a piece of furniture out of place, a light switching on by itself. But on three separate occasions the same exact occurrences which had left me barricaded in my room took place. Footsteps in the hall, the spare room left in disarray, and then the slamming of the kitchen door and the oven lying open.
Eventually, even on the quiet nights, the fear of something happening became too much for me. The anticipation took a heavy toll. Most nights nothing would occur, but then on others the same ghostly footsteps would wander through my home. I just couldn’t sleep there any longer. Finally, I couldn’t bear it any longer and so I spent several nights at my brother’s just to get a good night’s sleep. I told him the truth, but he just seemed more worried about my state of mind than anything else. I don’t blame him, I can imagine how it all must have appeared.
After a few days, he offered a solution of sorts - he would house sit with me. He wanted to see these occurrences for himself. I didn’t enter back into the flat lightly, but if someone else experienced what I had, it at least would confirm to me that I wasn’t going mad.
I slept on an airbed on my bedroom floor while my brother slept in my bed for three nights in a row, with nothing strange occurring. Then, finally, on the fourth night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard it: click. The light in the hall came on. My brother sat up startled and looked down at me on the floor, his expression one of disbelief.
He whispered for me to get up, which I did. We then listened. The footsteps gradually appeared, as if starting from somewhere far off. They continued, growing louder as they walked slowly towards my bedroom door. I think that’s the first time in my life when I’ve seen my brother genuinely scared. As the footsteps neared, he jumped out of bed and dragged my wardrobe in front of the door.
It was then that he made himself quite clear, whispering in a low voice. He hadn’t thought that anything would happen, in fact he just came and stayed with me to set my nerves at ease or to prove that I was sleep walking and causing the issues myself.
He didn’t believe, but as the footsteps stopped outside the bedroom door, he swore under his breath and stood by the window. I think it was a natural reaction, to look for a possible exit, but being three stories up, there wasn’t anywhere to go.
Then it played out as before. The footsteps turned and walked away from us down the hall. They entered the spare room, which was followed by the noise of my things in there being thrown around. Finally, the footsteps walked to my door again, stood, and then marched down to the kitchen, slamming the door behind.
Neither of us slept the rest of the night, and in the morning my brother recommended that I leave that place behind, and find a new home - easier said than done. As a condition of my mortgage I couldn’t sell the place until I had officially been living there for 2 years.
He offered for me to sleep at his until I could find somewhere else to rent in order to wait the two years out, but I just couldn’t afford it. My brother and his wife had two kids, and were trying for a third, in a 2 bedroom house. Staying there was no long term solution for any of us.
Later that day he phoned me, overly excited by the idea that he had found a solution. He had been doing some research online to see if other people had experienced similar strange goings on in their homes, and what they had done, if anything, to stop them from happening.
He told me that he’d read a couple of similar accounts - footsteps, lights being switched on and off, furniture being thrown around violently. One family from Arizona in the U.S. had supposedly ‘got rid’ of a similar unwelcome house-mate by simply confronting it. Several ‘experts’ - and I use that term lightly - believed that poltergeists and other ‘noisy ghosts’ behaved in such a way because they were confused and reacted violently to this disorientation.
I was sceptical, but as my brother continued it began to seem less ridiculous and worth a try at least, especially if it meant I didn’t have to sleep on someone’s floor for the next two years until I could sell the flat.
He then told me that one of these experts believed that such disturbances occur when the spirit of someone who has passed doesn’t realise it is dead. When it wanders around a place which it used to call home, it sees objects, belongings etc. which are unfamiliar, and simply cannot understand why. In this utter confusion, it lashes out, mostly at possessions, but occasionally at people who it sees as invaders of its home. One particular instance was reported in a family home. A bedroom would be thrown into disarray because it used to be the deceased’s. By confronting the spirit while it was manifest and telling it that it no longer lived their, and that it had passed on, the entity ‘dissipated’ and moved on.
It all seemed like mumbo jumbo to me, but then so too did the very idea of a ghost - and by this point I was convinced one was living, or unliving, in my flat.
We agreed then that we would at least try to confront it. I have to say I was curious, but part of me wanted to just leave it all behind. My brother had the idea that we should clear the spare room out completely, and sleep in there each night until the footsteps appeared. It made sense, as that was a focal point for the disturbances, but the entire wait filled me with apprehension.
On the second night, it happened.
There we were, sleeping on the floor like we did when we had sleepovers as kids, waiting in the spare room for something we didn’t understand to appear. With everything removed, the room seemed bare, and I felt a strange sadness for the place, an emptiness.
At around 1AM, I first heard it. Somehow I knew it would appear that night; I felt it in the atmosphere, like the tension before a storm.
Click.
The hall light came on. My brother looked at me with a mixture of fright and excitement. Silence. Then, the footsteps began. They walked slowly down the hall to my bedroom door. And there they waited, while we waited also, in the place where my belongings had been bashed and broken over and over. Finally, they turned and began their slow shuffling walk towards the spare room - where we now lay.
By the time the footsteps reached the door, my brother and I were both on our feet. I’ve never been so scared, and I could hear the terror in my brother’s shaking breath. Then, the handle turned slowly. The door opened.
Nothing.
There was nothing there, just an empty doorway. My brother had taken out his phone and was recording video, but he couldn’t see anything but thin air. I can’t remember the exact words we used, but between the two of us we hesitated, finally conveying that if anyone was there, they were dead, and that they no longer lived in the flat and needed to accept it and ‘move on’.
Nothing, again.
We waited for a moment. And as I turned to my brother to smile and suggest that perhaps it had worked. The door slammed shut and the light in the spare room went out. Utter darkness.
I panicked, and I’m a little ashamed to say I screamed for help, the fear of being trapped welling up inside me. I could hear my brother fumbling around. He told me to be calm. I wasn’t. He told me to look for the door. I couldn’t find it, disorientated by the dark as if the room had changed somehow. It felt smaller, cramped and stifled.
Then, in the darkness, I heard it. My brother clearly did too, as he swore under his breath asking if the sound was coming from me. My voice wavered and I simply said ‘no’. Behind us, in the gloom of that little room, we could hear breathing. The breaths were long and somehow carried threat with them. And then, a horrible inhaled gasp, followed by the deafening scream of a man right behind me.
Terror overcame me, and as I finally found the door, my brother knocked into me in the pitch black and headed out into the hallway, with me quickly behind. In the fevered escape I lost my footing and managed to fall onto my side, on the floor directly in front of the open door to the blackness of the spare room.
The wind had been knocked out of me, but if I could have I would have cried out in horror at what I saw. The light in the spare room flicked back on, revealing a figure standing in the room, facing the wall. It began to turn slowly, and as it did I could see what I can only describe as a face, its skin bloated and tinged with a bruised blue, and its hair oily and straggled.
I kicked the door shut, and as my brother helped me to my feet we ran out of the flat, only to hear the spare room door open behind us, and running footsteps heading once more into the kitchen. We did not look back.
I haven’t slept in the flat since then, in fact I could only step foot in it to retrieve some of my things when accompanied by my brother and two of my friends; during the day. I refuse to sleep there, and between my family and myself have managed to find the money needed to rent elsewhere while I wait to sell the place. It’s further from work and the area isn’t as nice, but I really don’t care.
After speaking to the couple who lived there before me, you might already suspect what they told me in way of an explanation. They too heard footsteps occasionally in the hall at night, but nothing else of consequence, and happily lived there with their young son for a few years. What they could tell me was that they had bought the flat from an estate agent and knew fine well the history, but not being superstitious, they knew they had a bargain on their hands if they ignored what had happened.
The original owner had lived there by himself. By all accounts he was a very private person, and so no one in the building knew him very well. One night a terrible scream was heard from the man’s flat (and believe me, it is his). When neighbours went to his door he did not answer, and soon afterwards the smell of gas filled the hallway outside. The emergency services were called and the building evacuated. When they entered the flat they found the man’s bedroom in disarray, his belongings torn and broken up. In the kitchen they discovered his dead body, kneeling on the floor, half sticking out of the oven, his skin blue due to asphyxiation.
I’ve thought about the entire events often, wondered why the man’s ghost still lingers there. I’ve wondered why he made his presence felt more strongly to me than those who lived there before me. Most of all there is one question, for some unknown reason, which never seems to leave me. What made him scream in the first place?
Great Cthulhu
Civilian
- Joined
- Dec 28, 2013
- Messages
- 602
- Reaction score
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Great Cthulhu
Civilian
- Joined
- Dec 28, 2013
- Messages
- 602
- Reaction score
- 1
- Points
- 13
Great Cthulhu
Civilian
- Joined
- Dec 28, 2013
- Messages
- 602
- Reaction score
- 1
- Points
- 13
Here is something I wrote up and posted on reddit. Thought I would share it here.
Vampire in The National Park
Vampire in The National Park
Interview of: Jacob Wingate
October 25, 2011
Reporting Officers: Detective Richard Curwen, Detective Adrian Wozniak
Wozniak: Richard's just laying out a digital recorder on the table, we would like to make an audio recording of the interview if that's OK with you. Just to clarify, you're not under arrest. You're free to go anytime you wish, just listen to us okay, you don't have to answer any questions and stuff like that. We just want you to relax and open up to us, we're not going to jump on you and give you a hard time or anything like that. OK? We're here to let you talk to us, or to talk to you a little about how you've been doing and how you're feeling. I have a feeling there are things on your mind you need to let out and I'm going to give you that opportunity. It's pretty clear that something real heavy is bothering you.
Curwen: I imagine things have been real tough for you as of late.
Jacob: Yeah.
Curwen: We understand that.
Wozniak: Your family is worried about you. Your parents, your brother and sister. You self committed into a mental health institute. We're told you became catatonic. After you recovered, you were released and you kind of just dropped off the face of the planet. But you're better now and ready to talk. That's good Jacob. We want to help
Curwen: We're not here to point fingers, if you got a chance to meet the relatives of the deceased family you discovered, you would know they were decent people like you and your family and that they deserve closure. The report says that you found the Chang family in that cave, and that they had been mauled by an animal. But the coroner says that the bite marks on the bodies belong to that of a human being. Can you ---
Jacob: I want to tell you. I want to tell you everything that I saw, experienced, that I learned. I want to fully cooperate with you. But I know you're not going to believe me. I don't expect you to, I don't see how you possibly can. Even I have a hard time believing my memory.
Wozniak: Just start from the beginning.
Jacob: OK. I was part of SARVAC.
Wozniak: That's the Search and Rescue Volunteer Association Canada.
Jacob: Right. We had received the call in May 2011, it was fire season. I'm sure you remember that. Huge amounts of land were burned, communities swallowed up by flames. Plumes of smoke drifting across the country, even down into the United States. I remember the fire bans that were set in place. Fire permits were cancelled, no open flames of any kind, hefty fines were handed out to violators.
Curwen: Tell us about the call that was made that day.
Jacob: It was early morning when a park ranger came across the campsite that was in shambles. He happened to be driving by in his jeep when he noticed a group of tattered tents. The windows of the SUV were shattered. The ranger thought it looked like a possible Grizzly attack. The parents, two daughters and son, were nowhere to been seen.
Wozniak: There was no blood, no animal hairs or prints. If a predatory animal attacked them, there should have been something.
Jacob: I know. In (Redacted) National Park it could have been any number of things. Bears, mountain lions, wolves.
Curwen: Tell us about when you arrived.
Jacob: It was still morning when we arrived at (Redacted) National Park. Even though the Sun was rising we couldn't see it because of all that smoke that the wind carried with it. The sky was still dark and grey. In the past people have gone missing hikers, seasoned outdoors people, old, young. Sometimes it was a case of someone straying off a path or making a wrong turn, but for the most they would be found alive and shaken. But something seemed different about that day. There were multiple teams of people dispatched throughout the park on foot with scent hounds, horseback, jeep, helicopter. Hiking trails were searched, main roads, back roads, we had people going through the brush.
Curwen: The report says you discovered a cave about 10 kilometers south from the campsite.
Jacob: Yes. It was an undocumented cave. Nobody had known about its existence until recently. My team had been in charge of going through the brush on foot, the dog handlers were arguing among each other. It was because the dogs were acting strange, like something had spooked them. They were whimpering and whining with their tails stuck between their legs, some of them were even hiding behind their handlers. It was very bizarre. The dogs seemed sure about the scent trail, but as soon as we got to a certain area they recoiled in fear.
Wozniak: What can you say about the cave.
Jacob: The cave---
Wozniak: How did you find it.
Jacob: At the time I had entirely failed to notice where I was going exactly. It's hard to describe what I felt. Like I was in some kind of trance. I almost felt like I was being called by someone. I don't mean I actually heard a voice, but I felt compelled to head in that direction. And on the ground directly in front of me I found a pink Nike shoe, a little girls shoe. At that moment it was as if I returned to consciousness. About twenty yards from where I found the shoe was the cave entrance obscured by large spruce trees
Curwen: After you discovered the shoe, you found the cave you decided to check it out.
Jacob: The cave entrance was a hole in the ground, big enough for a person to crawl into. I stood at the mouth of the cave staring down into it, the floor sloped at an angle. I took out my flashlight and made my way into the very mouth of the entrance, shining the light into the darkness trying to spot anything. I had to crab walk my way down the sloping cave floor. Detective Curwen, Detective Wozniak, look guys, there are things that are, how would be the best way to put it, things that are out there. Strange things you know. I'm not sure you're going to believe me. You'll call me crazy. I assure you I'm not crazy or making any of this up.
Curwen: We do not think that. We want to help you. And you'll help us. Just tell us what you saw.
Jacob: OK. The first thing I saw in the cave were petroglyphs carved into the very rock by ancient indigenous people. There are many of these located throughout the foothills, the Rocky Mountains, many of them thousands of years old. These particular ones depicted hunters chasing the mighty Buffalo off of cliffs. I remember reaching out and tracing them with a finger all the while thinking to myself, I might be the first person in ages to lay eyes on them.
Curwen: What did you find next.
Jacob: Several feet away I found something on the cavern floor, it was what appeared to be a very old leather satchel. I felt my heart jump a little as I approached it. It was cracked and coated in countless layers of dust. I carefully opened the bag and found a broken compass, a rusty water canteen, a leather bound book titled 'Le Demon' and a flint-stock pistol with the year 1715 engraved in the side. I remember staring down at the contents of the bag, with the flashlight becoming warm in my hands. I sat there trying to make sense of things. That's when I was startled by a noise.
Wozniak: What was it that you heard.
Jacob: It sounded like something being broken, a snapping sound.
Wozniak: What did you do next.
Jacob: I shined the light further down the cave tunnel, from where the sound came from. I decided to move towards it, but it required me to go further down the sloping cave floor and when I got to the bottom I saw a pair of feet one foot a pink Nike shoe on it, the other was bare. I hurried down as fast I could and found a girl of no more than 7. She was dead. Her neck had been broken
Wozniak: But there were other injuries listed.
Jacob: Yes. On both sides of her neck were deep puncture marks. Her arms and legs as well. All the color in her skin was gone, it was as if all of her blood had been drained. And the look on her face, that expression of complete horror. I could hear the sound of my beating heart in the silent cave, I began to feel faint. I began to cry right there in those depths. The cold indifference of the universe had hit me like a train. This child suffered an agonizing death in that inky darkness. Calling out to her family. With my trembling hands I began reaching for my radio, but I was distracted by a sudden snapping sound.
Curwen: The rest of the Chang family was down there.
Jacob: They were piled on top of each other, like a heap. They suffered the same fate as the little girl broken necks and punctures on the legs and arms, blood removed from their veins.
Wozniak: The report says this was an animal attack, possibly a mountain lion---
Jacob: I didn't say that. I said that it was something.
Wozniak: Tell us about it.
Jacob: You wouldn't believe me.
Wozniak: Try us.
Jacob: It was a thing that should not be walking. Something that once was dead but given life once more. There are cultures across the world who have a different name for it. The thing that I encountered was a Vampire.
Curwen: A vampire.
Jacob: I'm not talking about a man in a cape or pale heartthrobs. I am talking about a creature. A parasite. A leech. While it shares similarities to things in nature, it is a thing that should not exist. What I saw was crouched on top of the family members, directly above the father. It had its face buried in the man's neck, I distinctly remember hearing a sucking sound. The man was still alive, I could hear weak choking sounds coming from his throat. I can still hear it now. I came face to face with insanity and terror beyond the limits of human expression.
Wozniak: What did it look like.
Jacob: At first glance it looked like a small human being, much like a child. I don't even know the best way to describe it. Do you watch the National Geographic Channel, Discovery, NOVA? If you have you're probably familiar with Otzi the Iceman. That 5000 year old ice mummy that was discovered frozen in the Alps. That is the only thing I can compare it to. It was draining the life from that poor man, it's eyes were closed and it was moving its head from side to side.
Soon it withdrew it's bloody maw from the mans neck and swiftly and cruelly broke his neck. It turned its head towards me and opened its eyes. They were black like marble the pupils a bright red. I froze in place, my mind simply could not accept what was right in front of me. My body began to feel numb, I was having difficulties breathing, and my thoughts were racing through my brain. Primal fear had taken over.
That very fear all of us inherited from our ancestors. The very ancestors that would have been scratching the dirt very mindful of the day hours left. Because the night was dangerous, that was when beasts would come out. Stealthy like phantoms, you would never know they were there until it was too late. And now and then someone would sleep just a bit too far away from the fire and be pulled away into the long grass, their agonizing screams would fade into the night. The next thing that the creature did was to stand up bare it's sharp teeth like a feral animal, it cocked its head and smiled at me, that's when it spoke.
Curwen: It talked to you.
Jacob: At first it was an incomprehensible whispering gibberish. But soon it became clear.
Curwen: What did it say.
Jacob: I am the past. I am the present. You are the future.
Wozniak: What does that mean.
Jacob: I don't know. The thing took one step towards me, in a desperate panic I drew my emergency flare gun and fired directly at the thing. The whole chamber was lit up with a blazing red light from that sizzling projectile. A moment later I realized that the creature had actually caught the flare in one of its hands and was holding the burning flare. I bolted out of there. I scrambled back up the cavern and tripped out onto the surface, a beam of sunlight broke through a clearing in the smoky sky. Next I made contact with the rest of my team and told them about the family down in that cave. Armed officers made their way into the cavern, they found the deceased family but there was no sign of the creature. That thing is still out there. I don't think you can hunt it down and kill it. There's no stopping it.
Curwen: Is there anything else you can say.
Jacob: Yes. I spent some time looking into the history of the park, back in 1985 a team of geologists discovered a hidden burial chamber at the base of one of the mountains. Inside that vault was what appeared to be some kind of box, a stone coffin with the lid on the ground next to it. Radio carbon dating places it in the 29th century BC. Nobody knows who the coffin was meant for, or what happened to the remains.
Jacob: Ever since that encounter I can't help but glance over my shoulder, always expecting that thing to appear behind me. There are nights where I wake up screaming from a reoccurring nightmare.
Wozniak: Tell us about this nightmare.
Jacob: I find myself walking on a long stretch of shore next to a lake, sand edged by surrounding forest. I know this lake, I used to frequent this place with my family when I was younger. There were campgrounds and hiking trails surrounding the lake. But this time I was by myself on the great expanse of sand, it was autumn and the sun was low on the horizon just peeking over the edge of the lake. Everything was basked in the orange glow of the setting sun. There was a bitter wind that was whipping sand around and I had to place my hands over my eyes to keep sand and other debris from getting in my eyes. At first I thought that I was all alone on this lakeside beach, but I glanced behind me and found that I was in fact not alone. In the distance there was a person who was from what I could see making a great effort to catch up to me. I stopped to let the person catch up, but something was not right. Despite the person apparently running towards me, he or she made no progress, the distance between us was not closing. I guess apprehension took over me because I decided to start moving, and that's when I heard something, it was a like an electronic mewling sound, like a bass note from a synthesizer. It was coming from behind me, from that person. I looked behind me and I really wish I hadn't. There was something different about the person now, it was the motion. It was like the person was having a violent full body spasm, the limbs flailed about wildly, the person bent at the spine in ways impossible, without breaking it. The head twitched around in much of the same manner. And in an instant the person was directly in front of me and I fell backwards. I remember ash color skin, black eyes with scintillating red dots for pupils.
Wozniak: Thank you for your time Jacob, we'll talk to your family members for a little after this. And if you ever feel like you need to talk to someone, or anything like that, there's nothing wrong with that. OK? Just let your family know and call us.
Jacob: Alright.
Curwen: OK were ending the interview at 1644 hours.
October 25, 2011
Reporting Officers: Detective Richard Curwen, Detective Adrian Wozniak
Wozniak: Richard's just laying out a digital recorder on the table, we would like to make an audio recording of the interview if that's OK with you. Just to clarify, you're not under arrest. You're free to go anytime you wish, just listen to us okay, you don't have to answer any questions and stuff like that. We just want you to relax and open up to us, we're not going to jump on you and give you a hard time or anything like that. OK? We're here to let you talk to us, or to talk to you a little about how you've been doing and how you're feeling. I have a feeling there are things on your mind you need to let out and I'm going to give you that opportunity. It's pretty clear that something real heavy is bothering you.
Curwen: I imagine things have been real tough for you as of late.
Jacob: Yeah.
Curwen: We understand that.
Wozniak: Your family is worried about you. Your parents, your brother and sister. You self committed into a mental health institute. We're told you became catatonic. After you recovered, you were released and you kind of just dropped off the face of the planet. But you're better now and ready to talk. That's good Jacob. We want to help
Curwen: We're not here to point fingers, if you got a chance to meet the relatives of the deceased family you discovered, you would know they were decent people like you and your family and that they deserve closure. The report says that you found the Chang family in that cave, and that they had been mauled by an animal. But the coroner says that the bite marks on the bodies belong to that of a human being. Can you ---
Jacob: I want to tell you. I want to tell you everything that I saw, experienced, that I learned. I want to fully cooperate with you. But I know you're not going to believe me. I don't expect you to, I don't see how you possibly can. Even I have a hard time believing my memory.
Wozniak: Just start from the beginning.
Jacob: OK. I was part of SARVAC.
Wozniak: That's the Search and Rescue Volunteer Association Canada.
Jacob: Right. We had received the call in May 2011, it was fire season. I'm sure you remember that. Huge amounts of land were burned, communities swallowed up by flames. Plumes of smoke drifting across the country, even down into the United States. I remember the fire bans that were set in place. Fire permits were cancelled, no open flames of any kind, hefty fines were handed out to violators.
Curwen: Tell us about the call that was made that day.
Jacob: It was early morning when a park ranger came across the campsite that was in shambles. He happened to be driving by in his jeep when he noticed a group of tattered tents. The windows of the SUV were shattered. The ranger thought it looked like a possible Grizzly attack. The parents, two daughters and son, were nowhere to been seen.
Wozniak: There was no blood, no animal hairs or prints. If a predatory animal attacked them, there should have been something.
Jacob: I know. In (Redacted) National Park it could have been any number of things. Bears, mountain lions, wolves.
Curwen: Tell us about when you arrived.
Jacob: It was still morning when we arrived at (Redacted) National Park. Even though the Sun was rising we couldn't see it because of all that smoke that the wind carried with it. The sky was still dark and grey. In the past people have gone missing hikers, seasoned outdoors people, old, young. Sometimes it was a case of someone straying off a path or making a wrong turn, but for the most they would be found alive and shaken. But something seemed different about that day. There were multiple teams of people dispatched throughout the park on foot with scent hounds, horseback, jeep, helicopter. Hiking trails were searched, main roads, back roads, we had people going through the brush.
Curwen: The report says you discovered a cave about 10 kilometers south from the campsite.
Jacob: Yes. It was an undocumented cave. Nobody had known about its existence until recently. My team had been in charge of going through the brush on foot, the dog handlers were arguing among each other. It was because the dogs were acting strange, like something had spooked them. They were whimpering and whining with their tails stuck between their legs, some of them were even hiding behind their handlers. It was very bizarre. The dogs seemed sure about the scent trail, but as soon as we got to a certain area they recoiled in fear.
Wozniak: What can you say about the cave.
Jacob: The cave---
Wozniak: How did you find it.
Jacob: At the time I had entirely failed to notice where I was going exactly. It's hard to describe what I felt. Like I was in some kind of trance. I almost felt like I was being called by someone. I don't mean I actually heard a voice, but I felt compelled to head in that direction. And on the ground directly in front of me I found a pink Nike shoe, a little girls shoe. At that moment it was as if I returned to consciousness. About twenty yards from where I found the shoe was the cave entrance obscured by large spruce trees
Curwen: After you discovered the shoe, you found the cave you decided to check it out.
Jacob: The cave entrance was a hole in the ground, big enough for a person to crawl into. I stood at the mouth of the cave staring down into it, the floor sloped at an angle. I took out my flashlight and made my way into the very mouth of the entrance, shining the light into the darkness trying to spot anything. I had to crab walk my way down the sloping cave floor. Detective Curwen, Detective Wozniak, look guys, there are things that are, how would be the best way to put it, things that are out there. Strange things you know. I'm not sure you're going to believe me. You'll call me crazy. I assure you I'm not crazy or making any of this up.
Curwen: We do not think that. We want to help you. And you'll help us. Just tell us what you saw.
Jacob: OK. The first thing I saw in the cave were petroglyphs carved into the very rock by ancient indigenous people. There are many of these located throughout the foothills, the Rocky Mountains, many of them thousands of years old. These particular ones depicted hunters chasing the mighty Buffalo off of cliffs. I remember reaching out and tracing them with a finger all the while thinking to myself, I might be the first person in ages to lay eyes on them.
Curwen: What did you find next.
Jacob: Several feet away I found something on the cavern floor, it was what appeared to be a very old leather satchel. I felt my heart jump a little as I approached it. It was cracked and coated in countless layers of dust. I carefully opened the bag and found a broken compass, a rusty water canteen, a leather bound book titled 'Le Demon' and a flint-stock pistol with the year 1715 engraved in the side. I remember staring down at the contents of the bag, with the flashlight becoming warm in my hands. I sat there trying to make sense of things. That's when I was startled by a noise.
Wozniak: What was it that you heard.
Jacob: It sounded like something being broken, a snapping sound.
Wozniak: What did you do next.
Jacob: I shined the light further down the cave tunnel, from where the sound came from. I decided to move towards it, but it required me to go further down the sloping cave floor and when I got to the bottom I saw a pair of feet one foot a pink Nike shoe on it, the other was bare. I hurried down as fast I could and found a girl of no more than 7. She was dead. Her neck had been broken
Wozniak: But there were other injuries listed.
Jacob: Yes. On both sides of her neck were deep puncture marks. Her arms and legs as well. All the color in her skin was gone, it was as if all of her blood had been drained. And the look on her face, that expression of complete horror. I could hear the sound of my beating heart in the silent cave, I began to feel faint. I began to cry right there in those depths. The cold indifference of the universe had hit me like a train. This child suffered an agonizing death in that inky darkness. Calling out to her family. With my trembling hands I began reaching for my radio, but I was distracted by a sudden snapping sound.
Curwen: The rest of the Chang family was down there.
Jacob: They were piled on top of each other, like a heap. They suffered the same fate as the little girl broken necks and punctures on the legs and arms, blood removed from their veins.
Wozniak: The report says this was an animal attack, possibly a mountain lion---
Jacob: I didn't say that. I said that it was something.
Wozniak: Tell us about it.
Jacob: You wouldn't believe me.
Wozniak: Try us.
Jacob: It was a thing that should not be walking. Something that once was dead but given life once more. There are cultures across the world who have a different name for it. The thing that I encountered was a Vampire.
Curwen: A vampire.
Jacob: I'm not talking about a man in a cape or pale heartthrobs. I am talking about a creature. A parasite. A leech. While it shares similarities to things in nature, it is a thing that should not exist. What I saw was crouched on top of the family members, directly above the father. It had its face buried in the man's neck, I distinctly remember hearing a sucking sound. The man was still alive, I could hear weak choking sounds coming from his throat. I can still hear it now. I came face to face with insanity and terror beyond the limits of human expression.
Wozniak: What did it look like.
Jacob: At first glance it looked like a small human being, much like a child. I don't even know the best way to describe it. Do you watch the National Geographic Channel, Discovery, NOVA? If you have you're probably familiar with Otzi the Iceman. That 5000 year old ice mummy that was discovered frozen in the Alps. That is the only thing I can compare it to. It was draining the life from that poor man, it's eyes were closed and it was moving its head from side to side.
Soon it withdrew it's bloody maw from the mans neck and swiftly and cruelly broke his neck. It turned its head towards me and opened its eyes. They were black like marble the pupils a bright red. I froze in place, my mind simply could not accept what was right in front of me. My body began to feel numb, I was having difficulties breathing, and my thoughts were racing through my brain. Primal fear had taken over.
That very fear all of us inherited from our ancestors. The very ancestors that would have been scratching the dirt very mindful of the day hours left. Because the night was dangerous, that was when beasts would come out. Stealthy like phantoms, you would never know they were there until it was too late. And now and then someone would sleep just a bit too far away from the fire and be pulled away into the long grass, their agonizing screams would fade into the night. The next thing that the creature did was to stand up bare it's sharp teeth like a feral animal, it cocked its head and smiled at me, that's when it spoke.
Curwen: It talked to you.
Jacob: At first it was an incomprehensible whispering gibberish. But soon it became clear.
Curwen: What did it say.
Jacob: I am the past. I am the present. You are the future.
Wozniak: What does that mean.
Jacob: I don't know. The thing took one step towards me, in a desperate panic I drew my emergency flare gun and fired directly at the thing. The whole chamber was lit up with a blazing red light from that sizzling projectile. A moment later I realized that the creature had actually caught the flare in one of its hands and was holding the burning flare. I bolted out of there. I scrambled back up the cavern and tripped out onto the surface, a beam of sunlight broke through a clearing in the smoky sky. Next I made contact with the rest of my team and told them about the family down in that cave. Armed officers made their way into the cavern, they found the deceased family but there was no sign of the creature. That thing is still out there. I don't think you can hunt it down and kill it. There's no stopping it.
Curwen: Is there anything else you can say.
Jacob: Yes. I spent some time looking into the history of the park, back in 1985 a team of geologists discovered a hidden burial chamber at the base of one of the mountains. Inside that vault was what appeared to be some kind of box, a stone coffin with the lid on the ground next to it. Radio carbon dating places it in the 29th century BC. Nobody knows who the coffin was meant for, or what happened to the remains.
Jacob: Ever since that encounter I can't help but glance over my shoulder, always expecting that thing to appear behind me. There are nights where I wake up screaming from a reoccurring nightmare.
Wozniak: Tell us about this nightmare.
Jacob: I find myself walking on a long stretch of shore next to a lake, sand edged by surrounding forest. I know this lake, I used to frequent this place with my family when I was younger. There were campgrounds and hiking trails surrounding the lake. But this time I was by myself on the great expanse of sand, it was autumn and the sun was low on the horizon just peeking over the edge of the lake. Everything was basked in the orange glow of the setting sun. There was a bitter wind that was whipping sand around and I had to place my hands over my eyes to keep sand and other debris from getting in my eyes. At first I thought that I was all alone on this lakeside beach, but I glanced behind me and found that I was in fact not alone. In the distance there was a person who was from what I could see making a great effort to catch up to me. I stopped to let the person catch up, but something was not right. Despite the person apparently running towards me, he or she made no progress, the distance between us was not closing. I guess apprehension took over me because I decided to start moving, and that's when I heard something, it was a like an electronic mewling sound, like a bass note from a synthesizer. It was coming from behind me, from that person. I looked behind me and I really wish I hadn't. There was something different about the person now, it was the motion. It was like the person was having a violent full body spasm, the limbs flailed about wildly, the person bent at the spine in ways impossible, without breaking it. The head twitched around in much of the same manner. And in an instant the person was directly in front of me and I fell backwards. I remember ash color skin, black eyes with scintillating red dots for pupils.
Wozniak: Thank you for your time Jacob, we'll talk to your family members for a little after this. And if you ever feel like you need to talk to someone, or anything like that, there's nothing wrong with that. OK? Just let your family know and call us.
Jacob: Alright.
Curwen: OK were ending the interview at 1644 hours.
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Great Cthulhu
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Horror Show Presents: The Enigma of the Amigara Fault (by Junji Ito)
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Still the most frightening thing to grace planet Earth.
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