Creepy Halloween Stories/Videos

[Deadpool1986]

Please, I don't know what to do. I've tried to tell my wife about this, but she's a science teacher and thanks to my history of practical jokes, she thinks I'm just kidding.

There is something stalking me. I don't know what it wants, but almost every night since I started seeing it, it has terrorized me. It doesn't touch me, it doesn't communicate in any sort of way, it just fills me with horror. If what I seem to ramble, please forgive me... I haven't slept in several days.

We live in the second floor of a duplex with stairs down the back of the house to the basement where the laundry machines are. There's a door at the bottom of the stairs before the door to the basement that looks out onto our back porch and into the back yard. Six days ago, I was going down to the basement to bring up some laundry and I glanced out the door as I passed.

There was a figure standing at the far edge of our yard. Her back was to me, and she was just standing there, looking into the woods beyond our yard. She was dressed in nothing but a light gown. It had lots of flowing material coming off of it that was whipping around in the air slowly. The whole scene creeped me out instantly, but I thought she might be a friend of our downstairs neighbor, so I continued to the basement. When I came back up, she wasn't there.

The next night, I went down again, and as I passed the back door, I looked outside. The woman was back. She was exactly like she was the night before, facing away, not moving. The hair on my arms and neck stood up straight when I saw her. I was even more creeped out when I realized she was in the same clothes as the night before.

That's when I did something I shouldn't have... I opened the back door. Leaning out, I called to her to see if she was okay. She didn't respond. She didn't make any sort of indication that she'd heard me. It was freezing cold, so I shut the door and locked it. Coming back upstairs afterward, I looked out the window and she was gone again.

Later that same night, I was in the bedroom, getting ready to go to sleep. Everything was dark, because my wife had gone to bed before me. Our bedroom looks out over the backyard, and my side of the bed faces the windows, so I have to go past them to get in. As I was doing so, I suddenly got that same deep dread feeling in my stomach that I had gotten the first time I saw the figure in the backyard. Something compelled me to hesitate by the windows.

My hands were shaking as I pulled the curtain back a bit and peeked through the shades into the backyard. It was a clear night, so the backyard wasn't shrouded in darkness. The woman was standing in the middle of the backyard, no longer at the edge of the woods, facing the house with her head tilted up to look directly at the window I was peeking from. I jerked away instantly, afraid she had seen me. Her face was covered in shadow and hair, but I saw her chin and nose. A sharp nose and a thin chin. Gray. Her skin looks gray, I think. Her hair is black and long. I was so scared, I jumped into bed and covered myself with the covers.

The next day, I played outside in the snow with my four year old daughter. She wanted me to pull her on her sled in the backyard, but just the thought of going back there made me scared again, so I talked her into digging holes in the snow in the front yard.

That night, things went from bad to worse. Somehow, I had managed to forget about the woman. Then, in the middle of the night, my daughter started crying. Our bedroom is just across the hall from hers. I thought she might need to use the bathroom or just be having a bad dream, so I went into her room to see if she was okay. She was uncovered, curled into a ball on her mattress. I pulled her covers over her and that's when she whispered to me.

"Daddy, there's someone in my closet."

Instant goosebumps. I turned my head slowly toward the closet door at the end of her bed. Normally, the closet is shut, but now it was open. The woman was standing in my daughter's closet. Not even when it was clear that I saw her did she move or make a sound, just stood there and looked at me through the cracked-open door. My blood ran cold when I saw her.

"Get up," I told my daughter, "Get in my arms, quickly. QUICKLY." She scrambled up and hugged me tightly and I walked backward out of the room, watching the closet the entire time.

In my mind I imagined her throwing the closet door open and running at us, arms outstretched. I just hugged my daughter and walked backward into my room. The woman never appeared in the doorway. I heard no movement from my daughter's room. I tucked her into my bed and stood there watching the doorway to her bedroom. I did not go back in, I just stood there and watched and listened. When I finally got the courage to climb into bed, I didn't sleep.

Sunday, I told my wife everything. I told her about the first time I saw this woman, I told her about calling out to her and seeing her from the window. I told her that she had appeared in our daughter's closet. She told me it wasn't funny, that it was my fault for our daughter's bad dreams and that I shouldn't encourage her to be afraid of her closet.

Sunday night, my daughter called to me from her room again. Call me a coward, but I couldn't go back into that room. I called her quietly to come get in our bed, but she cried and said she was scared. I wanted to go and get her, but I was scared too. I told her to pull her blankets up and cover herself. Just cover yourself, honey, and you'll be okay. I prayed that it was true. I lay there, peeking over the sleeping form of my wife and out into the hallway at the closed door of my daughter's room and just kept praying. I heard her cry a while longer, then she went quiet and I hoped that she was asleep.

Monday, I piled toys in front of the door to her closet. By that time, there was no doubt in my mind that this was some sort of ghost or apparition, but I piled things in front of the closet anyway. Like a pile of toys could stop a ghost.

Monday night, my daughter did not cry, but I didn't sleep. I lay there, looking at the ceiling, tense. Around 2:00, I heard her bedroom door creak open and I knew something was wrong. She must be scared, I thought, so I called to her like before, "Just come to me and you can sleep in our bed, Sweety." But she didn't come. I peeked over my wife.

The woman was standing there in the doorway to my daughter's room. Her arms hung at her sides, her shoulders slouched down. Her gown was dirty, like it hadn't been washed in years, and hung off her likes torn rags. I wasn't breathing, I wasn't blinking, I just looked at her and she looked at me and I thought this is it, I'm going to die. She never moved, never made a sound.

I whispered, "Please, go away. Please, leave me alone. Please, I'm sorry."

I couldn't look away. If I look away, she will get closer. I was sure of it. If I close my eyes, when I open them, she'll be standing over me, looking at me. At some point, she was gone. It's like I fell asleep with my eyes open. I don't remember her disappearing, just that I was looking at the doorway, and she wasn't there anymore.

Last night, I lay awake, waiting. I asked my wife to shut our bedroom door because the nightlight in the hallway was keeping me awake. It was stupid. I don't know what I was thinking. Like clockwork, I heard my daughter's bedroom door creak open.

I held my breath. Then I heard the floorboards in the hallway creaking and I started shaking uncontrollably. I heard our bedroom door open, and I knew she was standing there, in the doorway, not moving, just looking at me. I didn't look. I couldn't. I did what I had told my daughter to do and pulled the covers over my head.

I am a complete mess. A zombie at work. I don't want to go home anymore. I think I see the woman in other places. A glance while driving and I think she's sitting in the passenger seat of the truck behind me, or standing down the street as I drive off.

Just sitting here at my desk, someone passes by behind me and I jump. I'm afraid that if I turn around, she'll be there, waiting for me to look at her. And what if I saw her face? I don't want to see it. I don't want to see her anymore, but I don't know what to do. The only hope I feel is that, for unrelated reasons, my wife is talking about moving. But our lease isn't up until May. I don't know if I can hold out that long.

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[Deadpool1986]

Flashlight Tag

Flashlight Tag is a scary story about a familiar children’s game that a group of youngsters are playing one night, when one of them encounters something evil and deadly. It was written by William Dalphin. As you read the creepy tale, just imagine this all happening in the neighborhood where you grew up…

When I was ten years old, all the kids in my neighborhood would gather late at night to play a game of Flashlight Tag. You know what Flashlight Tag is, don’t you? It’s almost the same as Tag, except you play it in the dark and the person who is “it” has a flashlight to search for people. If they see someone, all they have to do is yell the person’s name in order to “tag” them.

One night, it was really dark and the sky was overcast and cloudy. Most people had their curtains drawn, so the neighborhood was almost in complete darkness. It was a perfect time for hiding.

Behind the houses on my side of the street, there was a long stretch of woods. That marked the boundary for the game on that side of the road. You could run through any backyard, but you weren’t allowed to hide in the woods. It was too difficult to find anyone in there and it was very easy to trip over tree limbs or end up with poison oak. Of course, this rule was frequently ignored when kids were afraid they were about to be caught. They’d just duck off into the bushes for a minute or hide behind the trees to avoid being seen and tagged.

Those of us who were hiding sometimes liked to spook each other in the dark by jumping out of nowhere and making each other scream, giving away our positions. I was hiding in a backyard two houses down from my house. The family that lived there had a little playhouse and a swing set for their daughter. I would periodically duck under the swings whenever I saw the flashlight’s beam approach.

All of a sudden, somebody came around the corner of the house and pointed a flashlight almost directly at me. I jumped away from the beam of light and ran for the edge of the woods. When I got there, I waited in case they saw me and were going to yell at me for cheating. The beam of light seemed to explore the swing set, then came in my direction.

I wondered for a second if maybe I’d attracted the attention of the homeowner. Most parents on the block knew about our games of flashlight tag, but some people didn’t like kids playing in their yard. I crouched down in the grass and waited to see who it was.

The person shined the light right in my face and I put up my hand to shield my eyes. The creepy thing was, they never said a word, just shined that light on me.

“You got me!” I exclaimed, hoping that if it was a homeowner, they’d realize I thought they were the flashlight tagger. Then I realized that two houses down, people were yelling and there was the “it” guy’s flashlight beam chasing them around.

I stood up and tried to see who was shining the light on me. They just stood there, not moving, not saying anything. I felt a little freaked out.

“Sorry for playing in your yard,” I said dumbly.

The person started walking toward me. Something didn’t feel right, so I started walking toward the edge of the yard. The person just kept shining the light on me and coming toward me.

I ran.

When I looked back, the person with the flashlight was running too, and it was an adult, much bigger and much faster than me. I felt scared now, not sure why this person was chasing me. I was running toward where the other kids had been, but they were gone now. It just seemed to be me and the person with the flashlight. So I turned right and ducked into the woods.

I dropped to the ground, then wriggled under a ring of thick bushes and curled up. I could see the flashlight in the woods with me, looking around. I could hear the person’s footsteps breaking sticks and crunching on pine needles. I didn’t know who it was or why they were chasing me. I just wanted to get back to all the other kids.

Eventually, the person with the flashlight wandered deeper into the woods and I crawled quietly back to the edge of the trees, like a mouse. When I got up and ran toward the street, I was immediately caught by the person who was “it”, but I didn’t care. He yelled out, telling me that I was now “it” and I tried to tell him that there was someone else with a flashlight wandering around in the woods, but he took off into the dark shouting “No tag backs!”

“Don’t go in the woods!” I yelled, but nobody responded. Of course, any kid who heard me would just assume I was talking about not cheating at the game, but I was sincerely worried about that person with the flashlight who was wandering around out there. Of course, now I had a flashlight of my own, so I thought I should go and see if I could find out who it was, just to make myself feel better.

I went back behind the same house I had just come from and a bunch of laughing shadows scampered out of sight into neighboring yards. I ignored them and headed straight for the trees. I couldn’t see any other light in there, so I thought, maybe the person went home. I didn’t know if they were male or female, but I couldn’t imagine any women trudging through the woods at night.

So I went about playing the game again, albeit anxious because of the lingering thought that there was someone wandering in the woods who didn’t seem to be playing the game with us. I ran across the street and chased people through the backyards there, but after a while I found the lots empty and realized that they must have gone back across the street. I ran back over and was exploring the Beeches’ backyard. Mrs. Beeche had a clothesline with a bunch of drying sheets on it, and her daughter Charlotte liked to hide among the linens and stay close to home in case she got too scared of the dark. She was only a year younger than me.

I thought I heard something at the tree line, so I went over and was waving the flashlight around into the woods.

“Stay out of the woods!” I remember yelling. I waved the flashlight back and forth a couple more passes, then I saw someone off in the distance. I held the light on whoever it was. They were hard to make out, but it looked to me like Charlotte. She had brown hair that her mother insisted on keeping shoulder length and wore a deep purple sweatshirt, so it had to be her.

“Charlotte I see you!” I yelled.

She just stood there. I held the light on her and called her name again, but she didn’t seem to move. She was partially obscured by a tree and just looked at me. The distance between us was enough that I couldn’t see if she was blinking or not, but her head was at an angle like she was looking around the trunk at me and her mouth was slightly open. Every now and then she would twitch or squirm. It was a really strange kind of movement.

“Charlotte! Come out of there!” I yelled. “Everybody! Charlotte’s it, but she won’t come out of the woods!”

My friend Dustin and some other kids appeared behind me and started joining in my yell for Charlotte to come out.

“Do you see her?” I asked.

“Yeah, she’s over behind that tree. Charlotte, get over here!” Dustin said, but she still wouldn’t come. “Charlotte, are you okay? Get over here, dummy!”

She seemed to stand up straight for a moment, then she disappeared behind the tree. We could hear movement, but it seemed to be going away rather than toward us. Dustin started shouting Charlotte’s name again and went trudging into the woods after her. I gave him the flashlight to take with him. I was scared again, because this all seemed surreal. I went to Charlotte’s house and knocked on the back door until her father answered.

“Mr. Beeche, Charlotte won’t come out of the woods, and I’m worried about her,” I told him.

I wasn’t sure if he’d take me seriously, but he rolled up his newspaper and disappeared into the closet behind the door for a moment before returning with a huge flashlight.

“Show me where she is,” he said, so I led him into the woods and pointed to where I’d seen her.

“She was right there by that tree,” I said, “but she wouldn’t come out and she was acting like she was sick or something.”

A bunch of the other kids kept calling out her name and I could see Dustin’s flashlight beam moving through the trees. Mr. Beeche went in after him.

They explored the woods for fifteen to twenty minutes and Mr. Beeche started getting really angry. We could hear him yelling loudly at Charlotte, threatening her with all sorts of punishments if she didn’t get back home that instant. By this time, the game was over and all of the kids just stood there in the back yard and watched. Dustin came running back out of the bushes with a dead flashlight. Eventually, Mr. Beeche came back out of the woods.

“Game over, kids,” he said, “Go home and ask your folks if they can help me search for my daughter. And tell them to bring flashlights.”

We all ran back home. My dad went out with three different flashlights. My mother went and turned on all the lights in the back rooms and opened the curtains and shades to help illuminate the back yard. I sat on the couch all upset and she eventually came back and hugged me and sat with me while I told her about the person with the flashlight chasing me and how I thought maybe Charlotte had run into him.

Mr. Beeche had gone inside and called the police to report his child missing. When the cops showed up, they brought dogs with them and marched through the woods, checking everything thoroughly. They didn’t find her.
My mother told my dad what I’d told her. He told a police officer and I ended up giving a statement. They went to the house three doors down and knocked, but the folks that lived there had been asleep and didn’t know who had been in their backyard. The police knocked on every door in the neighborhood, asking questions, but nobody seemed to know anything.

At the other end of the woods, there was a back road which was mainly used by logging trucks. Two days later, on the other side of the logging road, down an embankment that ended at a stream, they found Charlotte. Her body had been stuffed into a drain pipe. My parents wouldn’t tell me anything about it. They thought it would upset me too much.

At school, the next day, Dustin gave me all the details. He said that when they found her, her neck was broken and she had been stabbed multiple times.

It was the most awful thing that had ever happened in our little town. The police blocked off the logging road and spent months tracking down loggers and truckers who frequently used it. There was a curfew for months and our parents told us we weren’t allowed to play flashlight tag anymore. We didn’t argue with them.

What leaves me shaking to this day is the memory of Charlotte’s face, hanging out from behind the tree, her eyes glazed over, her mouth hanging open… Sometimes I wonder if at that moment, she was already dead and someone was holding up her lifeless body, trying to lure me into the woods…

 

[Deadpool1986]

Leather Wallet

The Leather Wallet is a scary story about two sisters who find a man’s wallet on the bus. Inside, they find an odd note, written in Latin. This is based on a story from the Philippines.

My sister Maria was one year older than me. We went to the same boarding school. Every weekend, we were allowed to go home and visit our mother.

One Sunday evening, my sister and I went shopping in the city. When we were going home, we caught the bus. Maria found a leather wallet lying on the floor beneath our seat. The wallet was pretty old and it looked like it was worn out. There was 20 dollars inside.

I told her we should split the money, but my sister refused. She was always such an honest person. She said we should return the wallet to its rightful owner.

When we got home, the house was empty. There was a note on the kitchen table from our mother telling us to behave ourselves while she was away. She had gone on a two-week holiday with her new boyfriend.

Maria opened the leather wallet and started going through the contents. There was a bank card with no name on it, a bus ticket, an old black and white photo of a man and a folded piece of paper. She took out the paper and looked at it.

“What does it say?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Maria. “I think it’s in Latin.”

I grabbed the note and began reading. ““MORITVM TE SALVTAMVS, EST DEXTRVMI CVRITE… AVE VERSUS CRISTUS, VERUM DE TREVI, VERMI EST REFLEXUM, ARUM DRI TRIPUM… DEXTRUMI LENTENUM, AVE SATANI.”

“No, silly,” my sister laughed. “You’re pronouncing it all wrong. Don’t you know anything? When the Romans were writing down Latin, they used a V instead of a U. Those Vs are pronounced like U.”

“OK, if youre so smart, then you read it,” I replied.

Maria snatched the piece of paper from my hands and read it aloud.

“what does it mean?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” she replied. “We studied Latin in school, but I don’t recognize any of the words.”

She tucked the paper back into the leather wallet and left it on her bedside table, telling me she would hand it in to the police station next week.

During the night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard Maria suddenly jump out of bed and run into the bathroom. She was retching and vomiting into the toilet.

Shocked, I climbed out of bed and went to see if she was alright. I found her bent over the toilet bowl, supporting herself with one hand. She was crying.

“What happened?” I asked. “Maria, what’s wrong with you?”

She didn’t answer and just waved me away.

The next morning, Maria had a fever. She said she felt dizzy and couldn’t go to school. She wanted me to go alone and tell the teachers she was sick and would come to school tomorrow.

I spent the rest of the week at boarding school, but Maria never showed up. I kept sending her text messages, asking where she was, but she never replied.

The next weekend, when I went home, I found the house in darkness. There was a horrible stench in the air. It smelled like rotting flesh.

“Maria! Maria!” I called. “Where are you? It stinks in here!”

When I went upstairs, my sister suddenly appeared from the bathroom.

“Maria, what’s that stink?” I asked, wrinkling up my nose. “It smells like a decomposing rat.”

She nodded her head. “It’s coming from the neighbor’s house,” she said. “Their dog died. It got hit by a car. After it got run over, it still managed to get inside its dog house and died there.”

“Why didn’t they bury it?” I asked.

“The neighbor is on holiday. It’s been days and he hasn’t returned yet. The gate is locked and nobody can get in.”

“Really, the gate is locked? But how did the dog get back inside?”

“Beats me.”

“Well let’s keep the windows shut so the stench won’t get inside,” I said. “It’s enough to make you vomit.”

Maria went around the house closing all the windows. A little while later, I made dinner and called my sister. She said she didn’t want anything to eat because she had lost her appetite. I ate alone.

That night, as I lay in bed, I could still smell the neighbor’s dead dog. The stench was overpowering. I got up and sprayed the room with a can of air freshener.

The next day, the smell was still there. I went out for a walk, just to get away from the terrible stench. Maria stayed in her room all day. She said she had to catch up on her schoolwork.

On Sunday evening, I was packing my clothes and preparing to go back to boarding school. I didn’t see Maria packing anything.

“Aren’t you coming with me?” I asked.

“No. I still haven’t fully recovered,” she replied. “My school uniform is still dirty as well. I’ll do the laundry later.”

I went back to school, but all week, I heard nothing from my sister. I texted her until I ran out of credit but she never answered.

One morning, I woke up to find a text message on my phone. It was from my mother. When I opened it, I couldn’t believe what I was reading.

“COME HOME IMMEDIATELY. YOUR SISTER IS DEAD. MOM.”

The phone fell from my trembling hands and I felt so dizzy, I had to sit down. It seemed like I was in a terrible nightmare. I kept expecting to wake up and find out that she was still alive. Sadly, that was not to be.

I packed a change of clothes and went home straight away.

When I got to the house, I saw that our gate was open and there were several people gathered around. My mom was standing in the driveway, crying and holding a piece of paper in her hands.

“Mom… what happened?” I asked, bursting into tears.

My mother embraced me and held me tight.

“Maria died. She’s been dead for thirteen days. I found her under the bed. Her body was rotting… The smell was unbearable… Where were you? Why didn’t you find her?”

I was shaking. A chill went down my spine.

Who was it that was with me the last time I went home?

Who was it that slept in the bed beside me?

I looked over and saw our neighbor standing in his yard. His dog was sitting at his feet. The same dog Maria had said was dead and causing such a stink…

Nobody knows what happened to my sister. It’s still a huge mystery. I suspected it had something to do with the note she had read in Latin. I tired to find a translation online.

According to my research, this is what the words mean:

MORITVM means death
SALVTMVS means to salute or give honor
TREVI means life
AVE VERSVS CRISTVS means hail the anti-christ
REFLEXVM means reflection
DEXTRVMI LENTENVM means there will be a wake after thirteen days
AVE SATANI means hail Satan.

In other words, it’s a satanic incantation… A black magic spell…

According to what I’ve read, it is used by people who want to die. They recite the spell to make a pact with Satan… to offer their souls up to the devil. After reading the incantation, they slowly waste away and die. Within thirteen days you will see the person who spoke the words, but in truth, they will only be a reflection of their former selves. A ghost. Then, after thirteen days, their dead body will resurface.

There is one thing that still baffles me. I read the note too. Why didn’t it affect me? Why didn’t I suffer the same fate as my beloved sister?

Could it have been the way I read it? Perhaps my ignorance of the Latin language saved my life.

But wait a minute…

When you were reading this…

Did you read the Latin words?

Did you read it wrong like I did?

I hope so…

I hope you didn’t read it correctly…

Did you?

 

[Deadpool1986]

Dear Jane

Dear Jane is a scary story about a stalker who becomes obsessed with a young woman. It is based on a creepypasta story called “Dear Abby” by Kman.

Dear Jane,

We’ve never really met before, but I feel like I should tell you something about myself. You probably wouldn’t recognize me if you saw me. I’m not very memorable. When I first saw you, I couldn’t believe something so beautiful could exist in this world. I don’t know exactly what it was about you that caught my eye, but as soon as I saw your face, I got an odd feeling in my chest. It was a strange mixture of excitement and terror. I guess you would call it love.

As you brushed past me in the street that day, I stared at you and memorized everything about your appearance. Your skin was perfect. You were absolutely beautiful. I had to follow you. Even your name was beautiful. Jane, I overheard someone call you as you walked into your office building. Jane. It seemed to fit you so perfectly. It’s the kind of name that rolls off the tip of my tongue as I repeat it over and over to myself.

You probably don’t even remember me, but I wanted to tell you that I love you, Jane. I don’t know what exactly it was I experienced that day. It felt as if there was something between us. Some connection. Something electric. I can’t stop thinking about it. If you feel the same way, please write back and let me know.



Dear Jane,

It’s been a week since I wrote to you and I still haven’t gotten a response. You should check your mailbox more often. How have you been? My life is the same as it has always been. I get up, I go to work, I come home, I go to sleep and I dream of you.

I waited outside your office today and I followed you home. I hope you don’t mind, but it was the only way I could find out where you live. You glanced back over your shoulder as you opened your front door and our eyes met, if only for a second or two. In that short space of time, I felt so close to you. It was as if I had known you for years.

I was too shy to approach you so I pretended I was just another passerby, walking down your street. Later on, I came back and took a picture of you through the window. I couldn’t help myself. The camera doesn’t do you justice, but it’s the best I can do for now. As I gaze at your image, I realize how truly perfect you are. Every feature of your body, your hair, your face, your legs is just exquisite.

Jane, I love you. I love everything about you. I think about you constantly. Do you feel the same way about me, Jane? I just want us to be together forever. Please write back soon.



Dear Jane,

Still no reply. Why don’t you want to talk to me? Don’t you understand that you and I are meant for each other? Perhaps you didn’t receive my last two letters. Maybe you’re just teasing me and playing with my emotions.

For the past five days, you’ve been leaving your curtains open so I can watch you at night. I have spent hours in your garden, just gazing at your beautiful face, hoping that you don’t go to bed. It is so discouraging to see you switch off the lights and go upstairs. I have to slink home and wallow in my misery and loneliness. Watching you on the videos I made doesn’t compare to seeing you in real life.

It’s surprising how much information you can find about somebody nowadays with just a first name and an address. Searching online, I discovered you are 20 years old and you are single. Now I know where you went to school, where your parents live and what you do for a living. But, it still isn’t enough.

Jane, I want to be with you forever. I want to be next to you when you wake up in the morning. I cannot wait until the next time I see you.



Dear Jane,

I have some really exciting news to share with you. I’m moving in with you! Aren’t you excited, Jane? We will be able to spend hours and hours together. It’s going to be just perfect.

Let me explain. While you were at work, I dropped by your house. Opening the sliding door at the back was actually easier than I had expected. It was so great to finally see everything from the inside. As I sat in your bedroom, smelling your clothes, your sweet scent overwhelmed me. Looking through your drawers made me feel so much closer to you. Now I know all your intimate secrets.

After a while, I noticed that there is a vent in the corner of your room. When I unscrewed the grille, I saw that the ventilation shaft was quite large. It was very cramped and hard to move around in, but I managed alright. This way, nobody will know I’m here and we get to spend all the time in the world together. It’s perfect isn’t it? I made sure to bring my camera with me, of course.

I’ve taught myself to be extremely patient. I can sit completely motionless for hours at a time, not moving a muscle. Then, you finally came home. I smiled the second I heard the door open and peered out through the grille. There you were, my love. Of course you took no notice of me. I tried to contain my excitement.

It’s funny how people always seem to sense when they are being watched. It can send some people into a panic. I could see you were having trouble falling asleep and you tossed and turned all night. At one point, you looked directly at the vent and for one terrifying moment, I thought you might have seen me. When you finally drifted off into a peaceful slumber, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Most people wouldn’t understand the relationship we have. You love me and I love you in return. I’m looking forward to spending every day with you now, Jane. Please write back if you can.



Dear Jane,

I saw you wake up in the morning. I didn’t sleep a wink the night before. You were just too enthralling. I spent the whole night watching you. I couldn’t help it. Whenever I tried to tear my eyes off you, they seemed to be drawn back. You look even more amazing when you’re asleep. You’d be surprised how much you can learn about a person by watching them sleep. I was tempted to get out of the vent to get a better view, but I resisted the urge.

You seem to spend a lot of time in your bathroom in the morning, putting on makeup. Why would you cover up your natural beauty like that? Don’t you want the whole world to see what I see in you?

When you left for work, I unscrewed the grille and came out of the vent. The first thing I did was to throw away your makeup. That stuff disgusts me. This way, everyone will see you as you truly are.

After collecting some hairs from your hairbrush and some nail clippings from the trash, I took a look through your closet. You can only truly know a person by going through their stuff. I found a photo album that contained pictures of you with other men. It disgusted me just to look at them. Of course, I had to rip up each picture and dispose of it. I’m the only one that can have you, Jane. No one else.

That evening, I slid under your bed and waited for you to come home from work. When you finally arrived, you looked quite pale and I noticed you go over and check the vent. It seems that I will have to be more careful in the future. I lay there under your bed, silently waiting until you went to sleep. I wanted to get a closer look at you during the night. I had to wait for hours to make sure you were really asleep, then I slowly slid out from under the bed.

You looked absolutely stunning. Every curve of your body was perfect. I was in awe just looking at you. Your skin felt as soft as silk. I had to control myself. It looked as if you were about to wake up, so I quickly slid back under the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible. You got out of bed and looked around. I could sense your fear.

Don’t worry, Jane. I’ll protect you. No one will ever touch you but me. I would kill for you, Jane. I would die for you too.

I’m going to leave this letter on your desk tomorrow. That way, I can be sure you get it.



Dear Jane,

Today, while you were at work, I spent some time working on a little surprise for you. I left it under your pillow. I put a lot of work into it, and I just know you are going to love it.

When you got home and found my letter on your desk, I smiled as I watched you open it, waiting to see your reaction. It was really quite interesting. You appeared to be shocked and horrified. Your hand even started to shake and it seemed as if you were crying.

Why would you be crying? Don’t you love me, Jane?

I saw you frantically running around the house, looking under the bed and checking the vent. I’m smarter than that, Jane. I knew you’d look in those places, so I found an even better hiding place. Nobody will ever find me here. I can watch you forever and ever and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it.

When you went to bed, you finally found your surprise. I saw you lifting your pillow and discovering the present I made for you underneath.

It was a scrapbook, filled with pictures I took of you. I watched you flipping rapidly through the pages. Do you like it Jane? You seemed to be shocked. Most people never see what they look like when they’re asleep. Don’t you get it Jane? You belong to me. No one else can have you. We are meant for each other. We are destined to be together forever.

I watched you cry yourself to sleep. Goodnight, Jane, my love and pleasant dreams.



Dear Jane,

Why did you have to do it? Why did you have to go and ruin everything? When I woke up this morning and saw you packing your bags, I realized what was going on.

You were leaving me.

How could you do this to me Jane? How could you break up our happy home? You were the only thing I wanted in life. I had nothing else to live for, but when I first met you I saw a shimmer of hope. You gave me a reason to wake up in the morning. And now you’ve gone and thrown it all away. How could you do this to me Jane?

However, you underestimated my love for you. I wasn’t about to let you get away from me that easily, Jane. As I crept up behind you with the chloroform, you had no idea what was coming. I held the handkerchief over your mouth until you stopped struggling and slipped into unconciousness. Then, I gently placed you on the floor and wrapped you up in a carpet. After that, I carried you out to your car and put you in the trunk.

People don’t understand our relationship. If someone had seen us, it could have ruined everything.

Together, we drove out to the woods. I abandoned your car by the side of the road and dragged you through the trees until we reached my bunker. That’s where you are now. It’s where I lived before I moved in with you. I built this bunker myself. It’s completely underground and the entrance is hidden by thick undergrowth, so nobody should ever find it.

I carried you down into the bunker and locked the doors behind us. After setting you down on the mattress, I lay down beside you and embraced you for the first time. It felt like a dream come true.

Then, I swallowed a poison pill.

By the time you wake up and read this letter, I’ll be dead. You can scream all you want, but nobody will hear you. The bunker is completely soundproof. There’s nobody around for miles, so you’re not in any danger of being rescued. There are three doors between this room and the surface and each one is secured with a combination lock. Unless you know the correct combinations, there’s no way to get out.

It should take about a week or ten days for you to die of dehydration and starvation. Then, we can be together forever.

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[Deadpool1986]

 

[Deadpool1986]

Yellow Raincoat
The Yellow Raincoat is a scary true story about a young Korean woman who has a frightening encounter on an elevator. It is based on a supposedly true story told by a user named Whale Baboon.

My mom’s friend is a woman who lives in South Korea. This happened 10 years ago. She lived with her husband and her young daughter in an apartment building in Seoul. At the time, her husband was always at work during the day and her daughter was very young, so she was a stay-at-home mother.

One day, the woman went out to run some errands and she took her daughter with her. When they came back, they stood in the lobby of the apartment building and pressed the button for the elevator.

When it arrived and the doors opened, she saw that there was a man already in the elevator. He was wearing a yellow raincoat and he also had a yellow hat on his head.

The woman got onto the elevator with her daughter and she pressed the button for her floor. Something about the man made her feel uneasy. He never looked up at her. He just kept staring at the floor. It was as if he was keeping his head down so she couldn’t really see his face.

As the doors closed and the elevator began to ascend, the woman glanced at the man out of the corner of her eye. She noticed that he was carrying something close to his side. Something that was wrapped in newspaper.

The man was making her nervous. Something about him wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She made her daughter stand on the other side of her. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to place herself in between the man and her daughter.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the elevator slowly went up, floor by floor. The woman glanced at the elevator buttons and noticed that only one button was lit up. It was the button for her floor. None of the other numbers had been pressed.

Things started to click in her head. That’s when she realized what it was about the man that was making her so nervous. He was wearing a raincoat, but it wasn’t raining outside. The sun had been shining all day.

The woman started to panic. She took out her cell phone and, even though her husband was at work, she pretended she was calling him. She started saying things like, “I’m on the elevator and about to get off. Can you open the front door for me?” and making it seem like her husband was waiting at home for her.

When the elevator reached her floor and the doors opened, she quickly grabbed her daughter by the hand and got off. She started to walk as fast as she could, down the hallway to her apartment.

Glancing back, she noticed that the man had also gotten off the elevator on her floor and was slowly following her down the hallway. When she got to her apartment, she started to bang on the door and said loudly, “Hey, I’m home! Open the door!” She even tried to make it seem as if her husband was coming to answer the door.

When the man in the yellow raincoat saw this, he stopped in his tracks, turned around and started to walk back towards the elevator. She watched him until he got back on the elevator and then she breathed a sigh of relief.

She started to punch in the keycode to open her door, but her hands were shaking so much, she kept hitting the wrong numbers. Each time she pushed a button, it made a beeping sound.

To her horror, she realized that the elevator doors hadn’t closed. The man in the yellow raincoat was still there.
He could hear the beeps. That meant he knew that no one was going to answer the door for her.

She saw him get out of the elevator and come running down the hallway towards her.

The woman let out a scream.

She tried one more time and managed to punch in the correct keycode. The door opened and she pushed her daughter inside. She jumped through the doorway herslef and when she turned around, she saw that the man in the yellow raincoat was right behind her.

She just managed to slam the door in his face before he could wedge his hand into the doorway to block her. Her heart was thumping in her chest as she quickly locked the front door and peered through the peephole. She saw the man in the yellow raincoat standing at the door with a knife in his hand.

As she watched, he stood there for a moment, then calmly turned and walked back towards the elevator.

A few months later, the woman was watching television when a newsflash came on. It said that police had captured a serial killer named Yoo Young Chul. He was responsible for the murders of over 20 young women and old men. After he killed them, he mutilated their bodies and ate parts of them.

The woman told my mom that she could never forget the dread she felt when she saw the footage on the news of the serial killer being led away by police. He was still wearing the same yellow raincoat.