CREEPY STORY THREAD

Originally Posted by sheistbugz

Posted this story in a similar thread a year or two ago. Interesting read
Spoiler [+]
On March 23, 1994
the medical examiner viewed the body of Ronald Opus
and concluded that he died from a shotgun wound to the head.
Mr. Opus had jumped from the top of a ten-story building
intending to commit suicide.
He left a note to that effect indicating his despondency.

As he fell past the ninth floor
his life was interrupted by a shotgun blast
passing through a window which killed him instantly.
Neither the shooter nor the decedent was aware
that a safety net had been installed just below
at the eighth floor level to protect some building workers
and that Ronald Opus would not have been
able to complete his suicide the way he had planned.

Ordinarily, Dr. Mills continued,
a person who sets out to commit suicide
and ultimately succeeds,
even though the mechanism might not be what he intended,
is still defined as committing suicide.
That Mr. Opus was shot on the way to certain death,
but probably would not have been successful
because of the safety net,
caused the medical examiner to feel that he had
a homicide on his hands.

An elderly man and his wife occupied the room on the ninth floor,
whence the shotgun blast emanated from.
They were arguing vigorously
and he was threatening her with a shotgun.
The man was so upset that when he pulled the trigger
he completely missed his wife
and the pellets went through the window,
striking Mr. Opus.
When one intends to kill subject' A' but kills
subject 'B' in the attempt,
one is guilty of the murder of subject 'B'.

When confronted with the murder charge
the old man and his wife were both adamant.
They both said they thought the shotgun was unloaded.
The old man said it was his long-standing habit
to threaten his wife with the unloaded shotgun.
He had no intention to murder her.
Therefore, the killing of Mr.Opus appeared to be an accident;
that is, the gun had been accidentally loaded.

The continuing investigation turned up a witness
who saw the old couple's son loading the shotgun
about six weeks prior to the fatal accident.
It transpired that the old lady had cut off her son's
financial support and the son,
knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threateningly,
loaded the gun with the expectation
that his father would shoot his mother.

Since the loader of the gun was aware of this,
he was guilty of the murder even though he didn't actually pull the
trigger.

So the case now becomes one of murder
on the part of the son for the death of Ronald Opus.

Now comes the exquisite twist.
Further investigation revealed that the son was,
in fact, Ronald Opus.
He had become increasingly despondent over the
failure of his attempt to engineer his mother's murder.
This led him to jump off the ten-story building on March 23rd,
only to be killed by a shotgun blast passing through the ninth story
window.

The son had actually murdered himself,
so the medical examiner closed the case as a suicide.
Click to expand...


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dat shhhhhhh cray
 
Originally Posted by ColdCity

Originally Posted by sheistbugz

Posted this story in a similar thread a year or two ago. Interesting read
Spoiler [+]
On March 23, 1994
the medical examiner viewed the body of Ronald Opus
and concluded that he died from a shotgun wound to the head.
Mr. Opus had jumped from the top of a ten-story building
intending to commit suicide.
He left a note to that effect indicating his despondency.

As he fell past the ninth floor
his life was interrupted by a shotgun blast
passing through a window which killed him instantly.
Neither the shooter nor the decedent was aware
that a safety net had been installed just below
at the eighth floor level to protect some building workers
and that Ronald Opus would not have been
able to complete his suicide the way he had planned.

Ordinarily, Dr. Mills continued,
a person who sets out to commit suicide
and ultimately succeeds,
even though the mechanism might not be what he intended,
is still defined as committing suicide.
That Mr. Opus was shot on the way to certain death,
but probably would not have been successful
because of the safety net,
caused the medical examiner to feel that he had
a homicide on his hands.

An elderly man and his wife occupied the room on the ninth floor,
whence the shotgun blast emanated from.
They were arguing vigorously
and he was threatening her with a shotgun.
The man was so upset that when he pulled the trigger
he completely missed his wife
and the pellets went through the window,
striking Mr. Opus.
When one intends to kill subject' A' but kills
subject 'B' in the attempt,
one is guilty of the murder of subject 'B'.

When confronted with the murder charge
the old man and his wife were both adamant.
They both said they thought the shotgun was unloaded.
The old man said it was his long-standing habit
to threaten his wife with the unloaded shotgun.
He had no intention to murder her.
Therefore, the killing of Mr.Opus appeared to be an accident;
that is, the gun had been accidentally loaded.

The continuing investigation turned up a witness
who saw the old couple's son loading the shotgun
about six weeks prior to the fatal accident.
It transpired that the old lady had cut off her son's
financial support and the son,
knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threateningly,
loaded the gun with the expectation
that his father would shoot his mother.

Since the loader of the gun was aware of this,
he was guilty of the murder even though he didn't actually pull the
trigger.

So the case now becomes one of murder
on the part of the son for the death of Ronald Opus.

Now comes the exquisite twist.
Further investigation revealed that the son was,
in fact, Ronald Opus.
He had become increasingly despondent over the
failure of his attempt to engineer his mother's murder.
This led him to jump off the ten-story building on March 23rd,
only to be killed by a shotgun blast passing through the ninth story
window.

The son had actually murdered himself,
so the medical examiner closed the case as a suicide.
Click to expand...


eek.gif
eek.gif
eek.gif
eek.gif

dat shhhhhhh cray
Click to expand...
this.
 
Originally Posted by SoleWoman

Originally Posted by ColdCity

Originally Posted by sheistbugz

Posted this story in a similar thread a year or two ago. Interesting read
Spoiler [+]
On March 23, 1994
the medical examiner viewed the body of Ronald Opus
and concluded that he died from a shotgun wound to the head.
Mr. Opus had jumped from the top of a ten-story building
intending to commit suicide.
He left a note to that effect indicating his despondency.

As he fell past the ninth floor
his life was interrupted by a shotgun blast
passing through a window which killed him instantly.
Neither the shooter nor the decedent was aware
that a safety net had been installed just below
at the eighth floor level to protect some building workers
and that Ronald Opus would not have been
able to complete his suicide the way he had planned.

Ordinarily, Dr. Mills continued,
a person who sets out to commit suicide
and ultimately succeeds,
even though the mechanism might not be what he intended,
is still defined as committing suicide.
That Mr. Opus was shot on the way to certain death,
but probably would not have been successful
because of the safety net,
caused the medical examiner to feel that he had
a homicide on his hands.

An elderly man and his wife occupied the room on the ninth floor,
whence the shotgun blast emanated from.
They were arguing vigorously
and he was threatening her with a shotgun.
The man was so upset that when he pulled the trigger
he completely missed his wife
and the pellets went through the window,
striking Mr. Opus.
When one intends to kill subject' A' but kills
subject 'B' in the attempt,
one is guilty of the murder of subject 'B'.

When confronted with the murder charge
the old man and his wife were both adamant.
They both said they thought the shotgun was unloaded.
The old man said it was his long-standing habit
to threaten his wife with the unloaded shotgun.
He had no intention to murder her.
Therefore, the killing of Mr.Opus appeared to be an accident;
that is, the gun had been accidentally loaded.

The continuing investigation turned up a witness
who saw the old couple's son loading the shotgun
about six weeks prior to the fatal accident.
It transpired that the old lady had cut off her son's
financial support and the son,
knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threateningly,
loaded the gun with the expectation
that his father would shoot his mother.

Since the loader of the gun was aware of this,
he was guilty of the murder even though he didn't actually pull the
trigger.

So the case now becomes one of murder
on the part of the son for the death of Ronald Opus.

Now comes the exquisite twist.
Further investigation revealed that the son was,
in fact, Ronald Opus.
He had become increasingly despondent over the
failure of his attempt to engineer his mother's murder.
This led him to jump off the ten-story building on March 23rd,
only to be killed by a shotgun blast passing through the ninth story
window.

The son had actually murdered himself,
so the medical examiner closed the case as a suicide.
Click to expand...


eek.gif
eek.gif
eek.gif
eek.gif

dat shhhhhhh cray
Click to expand...
this.
Click to expand...
Mind=Blown
 
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 @ that story.

Got charged for murder by killing himself.
 
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Inspector Gadget


Spoiler [+]
Okay, well. Obviously, Inspector Gadget can't be the man's real name. Whoever he was, he was a regular human who worked for the cops or whatever. Well I think that while on the job, something happened to him. Some terrible accident. Some explosion or collapse that left him completely destroyed. Once the cops found this, the chief (the guy in the show all of the time) decided to do something never before attempted. They used the newest and most secret technology to recreate this man with super human powers (sorta like the bionic man or whatever). They programmed this robot version of the inspector to look and sound just like him, even to think like him. He was programmed with the very best AI and all. He continued working for the company, even watched over his niece and dog, just like the real human version did. The only problem with all of this was that he didn't die in the accident. No, the real human version survived, only he was changed. The accident deformed him, warped his brain, and made him see things differently. Once he discovered that they had replaced him with a robot doppelganger, he swore to destroy it no matter what it took. They had taken his life away and replaced it with a robot, that they now call Inspector Gadget. The human version decided to use everything he had and knew to fight against this robot version, and to do evil to the company that had ruined his life. He also changed his name. Now he is known as Dr. Claw. You never see his face because it is the face of Inspector Gadget, only deformed from the accident.
 
Originally Posted by ColdCity

eek.gif
eek.gif
eek.gif
eek.gif
eek.gif
eek.gif
eek.gif




Inspector Gadget


Spoiler [+]
Okay, well. Obviously, Inspector Gadget can't be the man's real name. Whoever he was, he was a regular human who worked for the cops or whatever. Well I think that while on the job, something happened to him. Some terrible accident. Some explosion or collapse that left him completely destroyed. Once the cops found this, the chief (the guy in the show all of the time) decided to do something never before attempted. They used the newest and most secret technology to recreate this man with super human powers (sorta like the bionic man or whatever). They programmed this robot version of the inspector to look and sound just like him, even to think like him. He was programmed with the very best AI and all. He continued working for the company, even watched over his niece and dog, just like the real human version did. The only problem with all of this was that he didn't die in the accident. No, the real human version survived, only he was changed. The accident deformed him, warped his brain, and made him see things differently. Once he discovered that they had replaced him with a robot doppelganger, he swore to destroy it no matter what it took. They had taken his life away and replaced it with a robot, that they now call Inspector Gadget. The human version decided to use everything he had and knew to fight against this robot version, and to do evil to the company that had ruined his life. He also changed his name. Now he is known as Dr. Claw. You never see his face because it is the face of Inspector Gadget, only deformed from the accident.
Click to expand...

LOL
 
Anyone know where I can find more of these stories? A lot of these are good. I'm scaring myself every night reading these after 10 or so.
 
As a kid, I never really watched Inspector Gadget... But that story is quite mind-blowing, to say the least.
 
As a kid, I never really watched Inspector Gadget... But that story is quite mind-blowing.

Keep em coming, Halloween's right around the corner..!
 
As a kid, I never really watched Inspector Gadget... But that story is quite mind-blowing.

Keep em coming, Halloween's right around the corner..!
 
1999

Spoiler [+]
Just a disclaimer, this blog will be updated every once in a while, so check back if you want to see more.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



“The year is ninety-ninety-nine.
 
An Apple A Day


Spoiler [+]
Have you ever heard the expression “An apple a day keeps the doctor away?
 
The Art of Jacob Emory

Spoiler [+]
Ghost stories? Nah, we don’t have anything like that around here. We DO have the story of Jacob, but that’s about as close as you’ll get.

…You really want to know?… Well, I’m not supposed to tell you, but all right, just no interrupting. I don’t have the patience for it.

How to describe Jacob Emory… well, I guess you could say he was the kind of guy you could never take notice of. This isn’t to say he was a bad kid, in any sense- many people in this town thought he was the most reliable person for an odd job in the state- but he never really excelled in anything. He was the living proof behind the statement, “jack of all trades, ace of none.
 
The Algorithm

Spoiler [+]
Sometime during the third consecutive night spent huddled over the toilet, insides heaving and shuddering as I vomit forth seemingly everything I’d ever eaten, I realize what’s happening: He’s trying to poison me. It’s all so elegant, so perfect, and so clear, that I almost laugh, but another barrage of retching forces me into silence.

The next morning I throw everything in the kitchen away, wrapping it three times in black plastic and burying it deep in the apartments communal trash cans, to prevent an unfortunate transient from crossfire of His wrath. I am out the door of the complex and halfway to the corner store when I realize: He knows, must know, where I would shop.

I pick a direction and walk, enjoying the chill winter air that soothes the ragged shreds of my inside. I turn at random intervals, following an improbable path out of my familiar neighborhood, until I find a small shop with an unfamiliar name. Once inside, I hurriedly fill a small plastic basket; brands that I never have eaten, strange tins of ethnic ingredients I can’t recognize, foods that I’d never thought of buying. Soy milk. Tofu. I can feel my stomach reborn in anticipation of an untainted meal.

I prepare the meal in a fog of nervous anticipation, trying to focus on savoring the aromas and the grease spitting sounds of the frying pan. It tastes clean, but then, so has every other meal before this. I try to tell myself that the mounting pain inside me is simple fear and anxiety, but before the stroke of midnight, I am again crouched in the dingy bathroom, surrendering the days work into the porcelain mouth of the sewer.

The next day, I pack up the remaining food and dispose of it with the same care. I eat out that day, layering debt onto the last of my credit cards at restaurants on the opposite side of town.

He is more clever than I could ever imagined, and I am awash in despair as I spend another sleepless night gagging and sobbing on the tile floor. I imagine the Algorithm, the perfect predictive models at His disposal, brilliantly charting my every move across the city; every time I thought I’d outwitted Him, I was willingly walking into his web.



I buy a candy bar from a vending machine in a theater, and hold it close like a talisman. When I get home, I fill the bath a few inches deep with rust colored water, and hold the little plastic wrapped bundle beneath the water and squeeze. I know that I will see it, but it still breaks my heart when I do. A thin almost invisible stream of bubbles picks out the point where a foreign object has pierced the protective layer. Through the haze of piercing hunger, I convince myself to try, just one bite, and to take the chances. It’s a gamble that I do not win.

In the small hours of the morning as I press my fists into my empty protesting belly, I imagine the legion of His followers sliding silently through the restaurants and produce aisles of my life, slipping hypodermic needles into carefully selected packages of food. They are ruining and corrupting at His whim, surgical and efficient, before vanishing into the throng of the city at my approach. They will always be one step ahead of me, until I learn to think in new ways, to chart new cognitive pathways, and turn the game back upon Him. So, I tell myself, this is what I must do.

The first day of my new life, I spend in the small living area of my apartment, organizing my thoughts with clean and sterile efficiency, and conserving what energy I can from my wasting body. Night brings the retching sickness, but all that arises is water… and pills, half digested in the bilious water.

The pills. Of course. Not for the first time, I feel a sharp twinge of respect for crystalline perfection of His plans. I dump the last of my dozen prescriptions into the toilet.

On my third day, I feel a clarity and a sense of purpose that shocks me in it’s intensity, and my will penetrates the starvation malaise. I must win, or I will die. The rashes and sores in my cheeks are deeper, and I can feel the gentle sway of loose teeth in my desiccated mouth when I grind them in thought. He is winning, but not for long. There is still time.

Water, I collect from the roof in a small army of cheap hardware buckets. I know that somewhere in the byzantine plumbing of the aged building, there must one of His infernally clever devices; a tiny pump, squatting like a predator and pulsing it’s vile contents into the water main. I’ll have to give up bathing. A small sacrifice. The rain water will keep me alive for a while longer, but I must find a way to eat.

The answer comes to me in small unconnected puzzle pieces over the next few days. While gently working another loose molar from my bleeding gums, they suddenly snap together, and a warm smothering blanket of epiphany coats my aching frame. The clattering of the tooth into the sink basin is like the ringing of bells.

Late in the evening, I begin another unconscious dérive, drifting through the city on shaking and atrophied legs, knowing full well that He is watching. But this, my beautiful solution, is beyond even His reach.

I choose the house at random, and then, in one final attempt to baffle the Algorithim, turn around and choose another house across the little tree lined street. I sift through the mail; it’s a small sample size, but enough to confirm the most necessary of facts. A single occupant.

The poor man is surprised to have a visitor at all, and his face contorts with fear as I force my way inside. I am flooded with guilt and regret as I push him to the floor and strike quickly with the crowbar I pull from the folds of my jacket.

No.

I must steel myself. This is His fault. He has brought us to this, and this poor man is just another of His victims.

I make quick work of the meat, the muscle memories of summers spent hunting in the mountains flaring up with each quick cut. I allow myself a quick bite, a feast to my shrunken and withered stomach. The iron and mineral salt taste floods my head like a vapor and I bawl in relief, like a child. When I have the meat packed tight into my rucksack, I light a single candle on the top floor of the little house, and turn the gas range on high.

I’m not yet home when I hear the low rumble in the distance; the pulsing lights of fire engines highlight the black cloud hanging in the sky.

For the first time in more than a month, I sleep well, my body rapidly healing as pure, untainted nutrients penetrate my cells. I am not yet well, but after a few more meals, I will be ready, once more, to fight Him. I know I can beat him now. I know the Algorithm can only predict the actions of my past self, bound by the laws and morals of the old world.

That world is dead.

I am a free man.
 
Alone

Spoiler [+]
I don’t even know why I’m writing this. I can post this in a million different places, it won’t matter. There’s still nobody there to read it. Nobody left to hear my story. Yet this might be my last chance to do this, so I will. The feeling won’t go away. They’re watching. They’re watching and getting closer every second. They can feel my terror. And I know they’re enjoying it.

It has been about four months since everyone disappeared. And I mean everyone. I woke up one morning for school. I immediately noticed the time. School started three hours ago. Must have just hit the alarm clock still half-asleep, and fallen right back to sleep. It happens to me sometimes. Why hadn’t my parents woken me up? Probably just went to work early.

The first time I started to notice was at the station. I usually take a train to school, since it’s the fastest way to get there. I hadn’t seen anyone on my way to the station, but I lived in a rather quiet area of the town, so going was slow at this time of the day. It happened, so I didn’t think much of it. When I arrived at the station, I noticed there was nobody there. It was odd. There should have been at least a few people waiting for the train, even at this time of the day. I shrugged it off as an exceptionally slow day. It happened sometimes, too.

I waited for a good while, but the train didn’t come. I don’t remember how long I stood there, but I grew increasingly frustrated. I decided to walk to school. After all, it was only a twenty-minute walk if I did it fast enough, and I was late for the next lesson anyways.
I didn’t see anyone on my way to school. Nor was there anyone in school. The school building was open, and lit. I still didn’t think much of it, the lessons were on anyways. But the classrooms were empty. Every single classroom in the whole building. Some doors were open, some closed.
But there was nobody there. I tried the teacher’s lounge, and it was empty. I even recall the smell of fresh coffee in the room. I tried calling one of my friends to ask what was going on. No answer. The phone rang, but there just wasn’t any answer. I tried another. Same thing. I ended up going through every single person I know from school. No answer.

I rushed to the shopping mall nearby. It was empty. The entire building, normally bustling with life, totally empty. The shops were open, the lights were on, the music was playing, the info screens were on. There just wasn’t anyone strolling around the mall, searching through the stores, manning the counters.

It was like everyone had vanished entirely.

I tried calling my parents. No answer. The whole day, I did not see a single living person. The only cars I saw were parked ones. There were no animals either. Everything was just dead quiet. But everything still worked. The shops were open, the lights were on, the TVs worked, there just weren't any programs. Even the internet was there. Every site worked, every chatroom was open, there just wasn’t anyone there.

I went nuts. I don’t remember much of the first days, what it was like. Just the feeling of unimaginable terror, loneliness. I didn’t sleep much, I didn’t eat at all. I just sat around my house, waiting for someone to come home, for someone to call me, to hear a car drive past, waiting for the dream to end. It never did.

I eventually gathered myself. I told myself nobody was coming, and I had to get up and at least eat. And eat I did. I ate everything I could find, had the date expired or not. I ate and ate. And cried. I was alone. There was no sign, anywhere, that there’d be a single living person anywhere else in the world. No TV channels showed any programming. Some just showed the same news screens over and over. Nothing in the internet updated. Nobody ever logged in anywhere. Nobody answered the phone. Yet, everything just kept working. The power never went out. The lights were always on. The traffic lights worked. The stores were open. Music played where it had always played.

But everything was still empty.

I eventually grew accustomed to it. It took a while, but I started going out. At first I tried visiting friends, look for people, anyone. I soon gave it up. Before long, I realized that I need more food than what we have at home. I started looting grocery stores. Just what I needed at first, then went to home, and ate it. Before long, I started looting other goodies. Candy. Drinks.

Maybe a month was gone, and I had come to terms with my life, and the fact that there was nobody else in the world. So I made the most of my life. I started having fun, the kind of fun you’d imagine doing if you had the whole world for yourself for one day. I pillaged through every store I could think of, stole everything I could get my hands on. I slept at beds in furniture stores, I played games with the biggest screens electronic stores had. I broke every fine piece of china I came across. I rampaged through malls, leaving behind a trail of destruction. I missed my old life, but made the best of this one.

It was maybe a month ago that he appeared.

I was relaxing back home, listening through some albums I had brought home with me, when I suddenly heard a strange noise from outside. I can’t really describe it well. It was like something called for me. I’m not even sure I really heard it. I just felt it. What I saw outside scared the life out of me. Someone- something. It was the shape of a man, yet it was somehow… wrong. It was entirely black. No, not just black. It seemed to suck the very light from the air around it. There were no features to be seen. No clothing, no hair, no facial features. It was just a black mass I somehow knew was something like a man. I couldn’t stare directly at it, yet I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Every second I stared at it, it came closer, yet it didn’t move. Every second I felt I got dragged closer to it, yet I stayed where I was. The only feature I could recognize was it’s eyes. Two green, shiny dots I knew were it’s eyes. I knew it, because no stare has ever been so piercing, so paralyzing, so dreadful. It felt like the stare itself sucked the very life out of me.

It spoke to me. Not with words. Not with signs or gestures. I just looked at it and I knew what it said.

“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.
 
1. 1999
2. Art of Jacob
3. Apple a Day


Thanks for those, just killed some time at work. Any more?
 
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