True Fear

 

We all fear things, but can we say we have experienced true fear?
For example, you are downstairs, on your computer when the news comes on the TV, you sit and watch intently as the news caster tells you the scores of your favourite sporting events and the average cutesy story followed by news on how the politicians have messed up.
You are about to go to bed when the news comes back on, they're talking about riots, cause by a mass break out at the local prison, murderers, rapists and madmen are free and are roaming the town. You hear noise outside and duck down, you turn off the Tv and computer followed by all the lights (so not to attract the attention of the people outside).
you slowly make it up stairs, moving quickley past your glass front door, you see the outlines of people slowly walking up your drive, you hold your breath and sprint up the stairs, you run into your room and pull the curtains shut, you leap into bed and hide under the covers, you bury your head into the pillow and cry softly, you know it will be over soon, you reasure yourself over and over but there is still something nagging at you.
You suddenly sit, bolt upright as you hear something, then at that exact moment, it dawns on you, the most horrific realisation you could imagine, you finally understand, you finally experience true fear when you realise... You didn't lock the door.

The Seven Deadly Sins

 

I'm writing this so that I can keep a bit of sanity...this is my suicide note...it's the end for me...I just want this down so that others may see why death brings suffering...why you can't let one person die in your life...
My daughter got home from school at about 2 PM. Her being in a kindergarden class, they sent the little tykes home before the others. I thought that I could get in an hour or two into some TV movies. I finished at around 1:40, and exactly after I turned the television off, a ring came at the door. I walked to the door and saw a little girl with her mother, selling girl scout cookies. I happily bought them and started to eat the Tagalongs (I gave the little girl a tip, when delivering cookies in the heat of Florida, you have to have a bit of decency). About 25 minutes later, my daughter got home. "Hello daddy!" she said, throwing herself on me. I chuckled and got her some lunch. It was definitely a normal day. Until that night..

At around 1:40 A.M. my daughter screamed bloody murder. I quickly jumped out of bed and ran to her room. I threw the door open, and saw my daughter huddled up in a little ball on the corner of her bed. I grabbed her quickly and turned the light on in her room. What I saw was completely chilling...I saw, written in red paint on the wall: LUST, GLUTTONY, GREED, SLOTH, WRATH, ENVY AND PRIDE; SINS OF YOUR FOREFATHERS SINS YOU CAN'T HIDE. What the hell was that supposed to mean?! The seven sins?
My daughter started to hyperventilate, and she started saying "daddydaddydaddydaddy" over and over again...I grabbed her athsma inhaler and tried to give it to her, but she was so far into an asthma attack that she really couldn't do much. I ran to my car with her and placed her in the back seat, and drove as fast as I could to a nearby hospital. We were instantly admitted, and she was saved from going into cardiac arrest...it turned out that my daughter at five had heart disease.
It was about seven years later (and during those seven years) that things started to really get bad. It was Christmas time, I had a wife named Samantha, and a son named Gregory. My daughter, Haley, was 12 years old, Greg was about 4. I was loving my life. The kids were happy, Samantha and I were happy. It was great...except for the years previous...
The first year, all of the woman around me became aroused and flirted with me constantly. You wanna know why that was bad? Because every one that I rejected killed themself in some horrid way...one gutted herself with a kitchen knife, and another hung herself from the gutter on her house. The second year, my daughter became infatuated with food, so much that her heart condition worsened. She was rushed to the hospital over 10 times during the course of the year...but when the year was up, she became anorexic, and stopped eating much altogether.
The third year, my house went into forclosure, and I became very stingy with money and food. We later found out that the landowner of our house still had rights to our land, and was stealing money out of my credit card for two years. I'm lucky that I met Samantha, and she let my daughter and I move into her home. We married in December, and had my son in October.
The fourth year, I was called by many talent agencies, asking about my amazing singing skills, which I had shown off when I sat in with a band a month before the year started. The thing is, when I said no, they would keep calling me and calling, until they became violent, calling me foul names. One of them even tried to kill me right outside my house. He shot at me with a handgun and clipped my ear.
The fifth year, I became inexplicably angry at my daughter and wife for everything. I became abusive in the month of December, but in that same month, I fell down the stairs and suffered brain damage, but so little damage that it gave me little memory of the year past. I can only recall this because my daughter told me about it.
The sixth year, my daughter became jealous of my son, getting all the attention. But I tried to tell her that babies need more attention than ten-year-olds. She became angry and violent. She eventually ran away. I called the Center For Missing And Exploited Children. They found her in the abandoned house next to us, hiding in one of the closets. She was starving, and eventually kicked her anorexia.
It was the seventh year now, and nothing had really happened at all. That is until that night...at exacly 1:40 AM that the shit hit the fan. I heard my daughter scream, a bloodcurdling scream. I quickly ran to her room, and saw something that broke my heart and terrified me...a man stood looking at her bed, holding a sleek knife...he grabbed her and...ripped her open with the blade...oh god...it's hard to even think about it...but he took all that remained of her...Jesus Christ...I was so proud of her...my baby...
It's the eighth year now...my wife left me, my son barely knows me...and I curse myself every day. My late wife, who beared my daughter...I now know that it was you who gave me this curse. You always hated me...I couldn't save you...I never could...and you hate me for it. So now...I end it all...

---

Hello, this is Gregory, the boy in the story. I'm 36 now, and I was given this note from the police about a year ago. This suicide note was written by my father back in 1980. I was only five years old. When my mother got the news about my father, she cried for about an hour. I was alone too...and it wasn't until ten years later that my mother gave me the real story.
She cried crocodile tears when she heard the news. The only emotion she harbored for my dad was hate. See, my father did all of those horrible things you see in the story. My father went insane at 1:40 AM in 1973, the date of his first wife and his anniversarry. The psychologist he saw when his wife died suspected that his wife's death was all his fault. He created an excuse, and based his so-called 'revenge' on the seven deadly sins.
The night of his wife's anniversary, he gave his daughter a shot of steroids, which gave her the heart condition. He killed every woman who flirted with him for one year, making their deaths look like suicides.
The second year, he stuffed his daughter full of food, making her eat the largest portions. He became upset that it did not kill her, so he made her throw up her food after every meal when the year was up.
The third year, he sold his house, and let my mom use money from his credit card. He also became abusive for many years after.
The fourth year, he claimed that he was the most talented singer ever, calling talent agencies and such. When they turned him down, he would call them foul names, and one man he even tried to kill. He shot at the man right outside of his studio, clipping him in the ear.
The fifth year, he tried to kill my mom and late sister many times, but my mother retaliated, pushing him down the stairs. He had aqquired short term memory loss and couldn't remember much about that month.
The sixth year, he drove my sister out of the house, calling her 'stupid bitch' or 'fucking whore'. She hid in the house next door when my father called a lost child agency. The forensics team quickly turned her back into our house, which my mother frequently called 'Hell'.
The seventh year, my dad was very tame. He became a very nice man, happy, and was proud of his behavior, until 1:40 A.M. On the night of his wife's anniversary, he killed my sister with a kitchen knife and fled with her remains to the Bahamas. I still cannot belive it to this very day, and at the beginning of the eighth year, he killed himself. The police force says that it was suicide, he created a makeshift noose out of organic material.
They all lie, because I know the rope was my sister.

Lil Wayne's Secret

Regardless of whether you listen to hip hop or not, I'm sure the vast majority of you has heard of Lil Wayne. His music is undoubtfully a part of pop culture, however in the past before his popularity was as high as it is today, he made a song called I Feel Like Dying. Now the actual subject matter is about what sounds like Lil Wayne's drug addiction however there have been rumors starting around 2007-2008 that the song contained a hidden message if played reveresed. As one of the many people that listened to it, I have to say I was pretty creeped out after hearing it. Some people have taken the liberty of making lyrics to the reveresed song and as expected the lyrics vary from video to video. However the content is always the same: violence, murder, and something demonic.

As a curious person I decided to do some research on the subject and I haven't found much. When Wikipedia had an article on the song briefly it said that Lil Wayne never commented on whether the rumors were true. Upon going for underground sources(I have some connections with people in the music industry) I uncovered that once during an interview Lil Wayne was asked about the rumors regarding the song and he reportedly ignored the question. When the interviewer persisted Lil Wayne just got up and left, ending the interview prematurely. Another account said that when a fan ran into him on the street and asked about the rumor, he starting yelling at him and cursing at him. When the fan kept asking, Lil Wayne assaulted him and told him to never mention the song again. There were several more accounts of things like this happening, however one of the stories involved a woman actually being murdered by fellow rappers and label mates Drake and Gudda Gudda for asking about it. Using the same music industry connections I have, I managed to get ahold of some back stage tickets at a concert he was having, however the concert wasn't for another five months so I had to put my quest for answers on pause until then.

When the day of the concert arrived I sat next to some die hard fans who kept screaming. Like most people, I'm always wondering how he became so popular despite his rap skills not being the best. But I wasn't one to question how a man makes his living so I just kicked back and enjoyed the concert. The concert itself was unbelievably hyped up. There was so much energy it was like a musician's idea of heaven. After the concert ended some hours later I went backstage and met Lil Wayne. Despite his lyrics he is actually a very sweet and homely guy. When I was introduced to him by the bodyguards, he was sitting down reading his Bible. He got up and greeted me and he introduced me to the rest of the Young Money group. Drake shook my hand then walked out of sight. Nicki Minaj gave me a hug and I wont lie, I wish that hug lasted forever. After shaking the rest of the group's hands and chatting briefly with Tyga, I sat down to talk with Lil Wayne. We discussed religion and our faith(for those who don't know Lil Wayne is a practicing Christain), the backround stories behind his songs(the song Lollipop was actually a dare by one of the song's producers, Jim Jonsin, to make a song about blow jobs to jokingly release as a single), and our lives. I was impressed by how intelligent this man really is, hes had a rough life growing up in the Hollygrove area of New Orleans and he says hes blessed to have a career as sucessful as his. I decided after about 30 minutes of chatting to bring up I Feel Like Dying. As I brought it up, his face went from happy and cheerful to just drained of its color, like if something terrified him. As we talked about the song, he had told me he was in a hard time in his life when he wrote the song, that without drugs he felt like he would die, and then he tried to change the subject. When I asked about the rumors of a hidden message in the song, he became visibly furious and denied that there was a hidden message. When I told him I had sources saying otherwise, he was now in the point of tears and told me to get the fuck out. As security was escorting me out, I managed to catch a glimpse of him clutching his Bible and chanting Bible verses over and over again. The man was now obviously afraid and now it got me more curious: why would this man just freak out and have me kicked out? I knew there was a reason and I set out to find it.

After some time has passed, I managed to get ahold of Cool and Dre. If you dont know who they are, they are 

The song reversed with supposed lyrics

The original song

hip hop producers who have produced many of Lil Wayne's songs. I chatted with them and as I mentioned the supposed hidden message in I Feel Like Dying, Dre just stomped out of the room and Cool just stood there with a frozen expression on his face. When I asked once again, he whispered to me "I can't explain here, they'll hear us, follow me." When I asked who was "they", he told me to follow him to his car. When we got to it, told me to NEVER mention what he was gonna tell me to anybody then he started the car and started driving. After fifteen minutes of driving and Cool being silent, we arrived at a large church. The church was already having sessions as I could see a swarm of people gathering inside. I followed Cool into the church and said "Alright, they can't hear us here." When I asked who, he replied with "The real producers of that song." Apparently shortly before Lil Wayne's popularity exploded, he made a pact with a demon named Murmur, that in exchange for his soul, finding a few more people to make the same pact, and allowing him to possess Lil Wayne for a short period of time, he would make him one of the the most popular rappers alive and make sure his career prospers. Lil Wayne agreed and he started looking for new talent to recruit. He said that Murmur was the true writer of the song and several of his minions were actually the producers. When Lil Wayne recorded the song, it wasn't really him, it was Murmur possessing him for the sole purpose of making the song reality. Lil Wayne has no memory of recording the song and after a few years found new recruits. Those new recruits? We know them as Young Money. All of the rappers in the Young Money group have made the same pact and Lil Wayne's deal was complete. Murmur kept his part of the deal and helped Lil Wayne's and the Young Money group's careers become sucessful. However Lil Wayne now regrets the deal because he now fears for his soul and now regularly attends church, prays fanatically, and reads his Bible every chance he gets, hoping it will be enough for God to forgive him and take back the deal. Cool then said he remembers one time going to a studio session when the song was being recorded. He said Murmur looked like a soldier with a uniform that resembled the French Foreign Legion. The color of the uniform however was a mixture of red, black, and orange, like fire and brimstone colors. His face looked strangely human, not anything you'd expect a demon to look like but his pupils were pure black. Right next to him was a strange animal next to him that resembeled a giant vulture, he said that it kept staring at him and he got extremely uncomfortable. He said Murmur spoke to Lil Wayne briefly before turning into a floating pile of dust and violently flying inside Lil Wayne's mouth. The force knocked him down and he started violently choking and vomiting some foul smelling yellow substance. When it ended, Lil Wayne/Murmur went to the recording booth and started recording the normal song. He looked behind him and saw 2 very large demonic creatures mixing the songs and playing around with the instrumentals. The larger demon looked at him with glaring bloodshot eyes and said in a low booming voice to leave the room. Then Cool told me "Now you know everything, never tell anybody you heard this from me, everybody involved in the making of that song is not supposed to reveal its true origins. Thats why Lil Wayne gets aggressive when asked about it, they will drag us straight to hell if we ever told. Do you listen to Lil Wayne or the other Young Money artists? Their lyrics aren't good, in fact, they flat out suck. It's beacuse of the pact is why they are so successful, the forces of hell make sure the weak minded people who listen to their music gets sucked in and asks for more. Now tell me your address, I'll drive you home." After driving me home, I watched him get drive off extremely quick and recklessly.

I kept replaying everything over and over in my mind, I couldn't believe it was true. But I guess this is pretty common, there are successful music artists who don't really have much talent today who are actually really popular. While it would be retarded to assume they made the same pact as Lil Wayne, it doesn't hurt to keep an open mind. Next time you hear conspiracy theories about popular artists selling their souls to the devil, keep an open mind. Because with some research, you might just find it true.

The Russian Sleep Experiment

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn't kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.

The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that

 they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.

After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself...

After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it... or rather didn't react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.

So did the whispering to the microphones.

After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.

They announced: "We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom."

To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: "We no longer want to be freed."

Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.

The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in 'life.'

The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject's thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four 'surviving' test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.

The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.

Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep...

To everyone's surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject's teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.

In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word "MORE" over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.

The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake...

The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.

The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.

When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. "Keep cutting."

The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.

Only one response was given: "I must remain awake."

All three subject's restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military 'benefactors' for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.

In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone's surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.

The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.

He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. "I won't be locked in here with these things! Not with you!" he screamed at the man strapped to the table. "WHAT ARE YOU?" he demanded. "I must know!"

The subject smiled.

"Have you forgotten so easily?" The subject asked. "We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread."

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject's heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, "So... nearly... free..."

String Theory

Have you ever had an experience that suggested someone else was in your house, and just thought “I don’t wanna know” and left it? Sometimes, fear of the unknown just seems like the preferable option than facing a real, concrete danger. Normally it’s nothing, though. One time, the beeper function of my wireless housephone went off, when I was the only one home. It could only be called from the living room. Another time, I swear someone took some change from my desk. They’re all probably just slightly disconcerting tricks of the memory.

But what would you do when something truly suggestive happens? Would you run, or just ignore it, like I did?

Last Monday was a normal day. I got up, brushed my teeth, changed into school clothes… All little parts of my morning ritual. It seemed like it would be another totally un-noteworthy day, until I saw the strings.

There were three or four thick twine strings in my room. They criss-crossed between the walls around my bed, one attached to the door. No way would I have missed them before; I should have tripped over them. They were tied to pins in the walls, which had also not existed before ten seconds ago.

Nobody could have been in my room while I was in it, let alone set this up. It was early, and my brain wasn’t processing correctly. I simply discredited the sight, untied the strings and left for school, leaving them balled up on my desk.

It didn’t get any better later. Outside my house there were hundreds of them, tied between houses, around cars, across streets… This had to be some super elaborate prank. One of those hidden camera shows, or a comedy improv blog. They had gotten everyone else to play along too; passer-bys were tangled in them, tying them to objects they were walking towards and away from, as if they had been and were continuing to follow the course laid out for them.

I nervously continued my journey to school. On the bus, every except me was tied to the door. At school, groups of friends were tied to each other; teachers were tied to their desks and boards. Oddly enough, at this point all I could wonder was why I had been left out.

When my friend Lucy sat beside me in first period, she simply plonked her bag down on my lap and rested her chin in her hand, looking right past me to the window outside.

“Hey Lucy.”

No response.

“Come on, I didn’t expect you to be in on this too. “

She sighed and started taking books from her bag. All the books were tied to her hands. I grinned, and yanked one of the strings off a book. She didn’t seem to notice, instead simply disregarding the book completely, letting it drop to the floor without a moment’s hesitation.

“Um.” I leaned down, picking up her book and placing it back on her desk. She took no notice.

“Well, if that’s how we’re gonna play it.” I smiled, trying to look playful, but really just trying to hide my nervousness. I bundled all the strings attached to her together with one hand, then pulled them all free. She blinked, turning to stare at me.

“Holy crap, Martin. You’re like a ninja or something.”

“I’ve been sitting here for maybe ten minutes.” I smiled again, relieved my friend had finally “noticed” me.

“Where did all these strings come from??” She gasped, seemingly noticing for the first time. “I assumed you were all fucking with me…”

She stood up, backing into a corner. No one else in the class noticed.

“They weren’t here just a minute ago! Do you see them too??” Her tone made it clear she was genuinely scared.

“No. Didn’t you-. “ I was interrupted by my teacher slamming the door behind her. Everyone except me and Lucy murmured a good morning, and still, no one seemed to pay either of us any notice. “People have been ignoring me all day.” I said to Lucy, before turning to our teacher. “Hey! Dumb bitch! You can’t teach for shit!”

No reaction.

“I’m getting away from all this shit.” Lucy pulled a few strings aside and left the class. I followed, and surprise-surprise, no one else noticed.

We wandered the corridors, leaving and entering classes as we saw fit. Whenever we untied a chair or book from someone else, it was like it suddenly didn’t matter to them. It didn’t exist.




I showed her the street outside; there were more strings than when I came in this morning. Twice as many. We carefully picked our way through the tangle, making our way to a nearby coffee shop. Not particularly grand, I know. But what would you do in our situation? As I said, fear of the unknown sometimes seems like the safer option. On a few occasions, I suggested we untie a few more people. Lucy was opposed to it, remembering how terrified she’d been.

In the coffee shop, we grabbed a couple of sandwiches and drinks from the fridge. We found a table, untied all strings attached to the chairs, and sat down. We both ate in silence, both of us too scared, both of us distracting ourselves by watching the strangers in the shop, oblivious to the strings. After twenty minutes, Lucy spoke up. “Now she’s gonna take that sandwich.” She said, pointing at a woman across the shop. Sure enough, she walked to the fridge and took the plastic wrapped sandwich she was tied to. “She pays for it and leaves.” She did so, according to the prophecies of the strings. “That guy doesn’t intend to pay.” I watched as a man took his coffee and ran out of the store, the two servers just looking too exasperated to go after him.

“This is horrible.” She whimpered. “Let’s go. Please.”

Outside wasn’t much better. Everyone just followed the strings’ instructions, going about their daily lives. Lucy announced she was going home to sleep this off, and I agreed to walk her home. She only lived ten minutes away.

Away from the busier part of town there were fewer strings. It was nicer; we could pretend it wasn’t happening.

When we turned onto Lucy’s street, she stopped, her mouth falling open.

“What now?” I broke the silence, my voice sounding surprisingly small.

”Look.” She pointed outside one of her neighbours houses.

I saw it clearly, and I’ll take my memory of that moment ‘til the day I die. A little dark imp, maybe three feet tall, walking along with its knuckles on the ground, almost like a monkey. It had two bulbous yellow eyes taking up about half its face, and no mouth or any other facial features. It was holding a hammer and a ball of twine, which it was letting out behind it.

It walked quickly and quietly from the front door of the house to the mailbox. It stopped, hammered a nail into the side of the box, and tied it’s string around it. It turned to face us, and stopped when it spotted us.

My bottom fell out even further than it had already been, but it just stared with a look of surprise and curiosity. You could almost say it was the more frightened one. Suddenly, it beckoned to us with its tiny hand.

I looked at Lucy, she hadn’t moved. I looked back at the imp, which stared at me. I halved the distance between us, and then halved it again. This wasn’t fear of the unknown anymore; it was fear of this little guy. Didn’t seem like anything to be scared of. When I was a meter away from it, it extended its hand.

“Uh. Hi.” I shook it. It nodded in approval, blinking its massive yellow eyes up at me.

“So you’re the ones in charge of the strings?” It nodded eagerly. I called Lucy over, but she stayed where she was.

“There are more of you?” Another nod. I wanted to ask it so many questions, about what it was and where it came from, but it seemed for now I was stuck with only yes or no questions.

“Do we even have free will?”

It just looked at me, almost sadly. I immediately felt sick to my stomach, and couldn’t bear looking at the little monster anymore. I grabbed Lucy, who had been listening to our exchange, and now sat on the curb with her head in her hands.

“Come on.”

We entered her house, and I made her a cup of tea. When I found her in the living room, she had untied her dog and was curled up with it, crying. I set the tea down and sat beside her.

“I’m so scared.” She whispered after a good ten minutes of sobbing. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“I’m going to sleep” She mumbled suddenly, and was under within the minute. Sleep was starting to sound pretty good all of a sudden, my eyelids suddenly felt like they were being weighed down.

I collapsed to the rug, and the last thing I heard before I fell asleep was the scurrying of several sets of little feet nearby.

I felt much better the next day, as if the whole affair had been a dream. I’d probably have believed that if I hadn’t been awoken by Lucy’s mother that morning, wondering what I was doing sleeping over without permission or something.

Over breakfast, Lucy asked me why I looked so pale and nervous. I turned to her and smiled, mumbling something to her about feeling sick.

But the truth was, I was scared because I couldn’t see any strings, and was wondering whether my actions were truly my own.

Heart Break-In

Sarah was wary about letting her husband Tom go on his business trip alone. She had a sneaking suspicion he was having an affair with his secretary, Rachel. Unfortunately, for her sake, she was unable to stop him from going. It was a mandatory meeting, according to the email she was shown.

One night, after Tom had been away for two days, she heard noises coming from the ground floor of her house. Scared, she hid under the covers, afraid for her life.

After what was the longest five minutes of her life, she heard someone come up the stairs, and shortly thereafter heard the bedroom door open. Almost instantly, the intruder flicked the lights in the room on. Knowing that hiding was now pointless, she threw off the covers to face the person.

It was Tom. He was home early.

“Oh God, Tom,” she said as she ran to the door and hugged him. “I wish you had called. I didn’t know you would be home so early. I thought we were being robbed!” she said, letting go of him as he reached into his pocket.

“We are,” he said calmly as he swiftly put the gun he pulled from his pocket to his wife’s head and pulled the trigger.

Curiosity

In Korea, a lot of students are forced by their parents to do a lot of studying and do well academically. It's not uncommon for students to go back to school at night to do extra studying.

One night this girl was back at school studying with a group of students. The room they were in was the only light in the whole building, which dimly flowed down the hallway outside.

In the middle of her studies, she decided to take a break and went to the toilets down the hall. She proceeded back to her fellow students, when she suddenly heard a bunch of chilling, horrific screams eminating from the clasoom. And just as abruptly as they had started, the building fell deathly quiet once again.

Fearing the worst, she crept back towards the clasoom making sure not to make a sound. She peered inside the clasoom and lo and behold, all her peers lay strewn across the floor. Limp, lifeless and their faces dashed with blood. Their in the midst of the room was a pale white figure, a ghost of a young girl in a white gown with long black hair that veiled her face.

The girl had heard of this ghost before. It attacked people in the late hours of the night, harvesting its victims for their eyeballs. The girl could not run without making a sound and attracting the attention of the ghost. Instead, she slipped in the the bathroom and smeared her eyes with blood and lay there amongst the bodies pretending to be dead. She held her eyes shut tight and dared not move, hoping the ghost would soon leave and she could make her escape.

She could hear the ghost make the rounds through the room, shuffling from one corpse to the next, counting in chilling, soft voice "One, two... One, two... One, two..." as it plucked the eyeballs of the deceased.

This went on for several minutes, but the girl remained motionless. "One, two... One, two... One, two..." And still the ghost continued to count. The girl became anxious, curious as to why the ghost had not left. But she remained still, knowing what horrific fate might await her if she foiled her plan. But still the ghost continued to count "One, two... One, two..." and curiosity got the better of her. She summoned the courage to take a peak, making sure to remain still whilst she slowly opened her eyes to survey the room...

And there was the ghost, staring back at her. It's, pale, emaciated finger pointing at the girls' eyes, from one eye to the other as it counted "One, two... One, two... One, two..."