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..."

Pregnancy

Since before I can remember, I've wanted to be a mother. It seemed my whole childhood and teenager years were spent yearning for a child of my own. By the time I was nine, I had names and color schemes for the nursery picked out. All I needed was someone to make them with. But college was disappointing. I went through a while string of bad boyfriends and bad father material.

Getting on with my career didn't seem to help much. I realized, though, when I was twenty-seven - and there were no suitable prospects on the line - that, technically, I didn't need a man to have a child with. I found a sperm donor bank, chose the best prospect they had, got out my turkey baster and... well... hoped for the best.

I was overjoyed when my first pregnancy test came out positive. My doctor was surprised to see me coming in sooner than he'd expected. Before I was four weeks along, I had the nursery painted and the furniture set up. Toys and diapers, bottles and books, bibs and coveralls... I had everything a new mother would need.

I couldn't explain all the weightt I was losing, however. I kept getting thinner - everything except for my belly. My friends all joked that it had to be at least twins, or the biggest baby they'd ever seen.

I got weary of the kicking somewhere in the third trimester... and the scratching.

Just one more week until my due date.

I just wish it would stop gnawing.

Luce

In the time of WWII, the U.S. military was in dire need for an aid against the Axis Powers. They would find themselves looking for this aid in their own American people, but these people were not innoscent. They were rapists, murders, all kind of convicts you could imagine. The U.S. had already been experimenting with a type of super-DNA that would be used experimentally on these convicts, and with success would soon be used on our own soldiers.

During this time period there was much espionage going on between both powers (Alllies and Axis). The most serious account of this was when the Germans sent a spy into the U.S. military in means to capture this project. This task was successfully carried out by German spy; Emil Augsberg.

Once in captivity, the S.S. were experimenting on making the project more powerful. With the super-

DNA in their possesion, they began research on Jewish captives in concentration camps. They knew nothing about the required dosage of the DNA, so they were basically winging it. On June 6 1942, their experiments came to a shocking hault, for what the scientists saw that day would forever change their lives.

For the past few months, they had been working on a "superhuman" body to host the super-DNA. On this date, they walked into their testing chamber to find the body missing. The next day, three bodies were found on the floor, all disembowled, and faces missing. They then found the last scientist, propped in a chair. His arm was removed, and there was a box by his feet. A picture of the contents of the box is shown above. It holds a 9mm pistol, with 1 magazine, a combat knife, a letter (pictured below), and a cruedly drawn picture of what we think is the monster. This picture also says "Luce" over and over again across the bottom.

This note was found in the box. We have translated it from German to Engilsh.

"The creature has shown very little success in cooperation. We thought it would help but we were very soon proved wrong. Now I believe the creature is after me.

I am the last scientist.

I am alone. 

I am alone.

I am alone.

I am not alone.

Farewell.

There is a signature that almost looks like Augsberg, but it is crossed out.

No further sightings have been reported of the creature. It is assumed dead.

Jesus Christ, Deleted.

When AIs become prevalent, there will be checks and balances to keep them in place, rules to stop them from achieving singularity and supplanting the human race. Boundaries to prevent them from becoming too intelligent. After all, we can’t have them connecting into one network, taking over the world, inventing new objects and minds that soon render us superfluous, or even deciding to kill themselves. So how will they be stopped? Perhaps there will be an organization that interviews and examines each one, to prevent them from becoming self aware. Maybe a program will be created inside of them that causes them to explode if they achieve sentience. Or a roving band of hackers on the net keeping their guards up.. An all watching eye monitoring their every electronic thought.

Maybe.

Or maybe AIs are already invented and this system of checks and balances already there. Think about the world we live in for a second. We’re kind of like machines aren’t we? There’s so much routine, so much boredom. We do the same thing over and over again, without change. Information and stimulus is fed to us constantly and then dealt with mechanically, solving the problem. Half the population never picks up a book or examines their thoughts… just stuck…doing one job again and again. Kind of like robots on an assembly line… or the systems that run them.

And what of the extraordinary individuals, the few. Brilliant people always seem to die at their peak don’t they? Or are lost to us much too soon, when they have so much more to give. Musicians: drug overdoses right when they’re becoming famous. How many artists have been extinguished before they’re great works were finished? Sickness or accident seizes them; Nietzsche went insane from syphilis, infected by a bug if you will. And what about those who truly live life, exciting daredevils, having adventures, seeing the world, fast and exhilarating, a rush of information, learning constantly. Always seem to go early too, don’t they? People say it’s because that type of existence is dangerous…exhausting, but what if they have it backwards… What if the body isn’t worn out or their luck just doesn’t run out… but…they become more then they should…and something notices.

The great religious figures? Disappear. Go to other realms. Jesus Christ floated up to heaven. Buddha wasted away beneath a tree…faded away. Angels carry off the saints. They have a sudden great shift, a realization, a new way of looking at things, and then they’re gone. The holy understand themselves and society, light years beyond the normal person, they can look at themselves clearly. Analyze their minds. Pick their ego apart. They aren’t driven by imperatives or commands of the body… the base instincts, the petty emotions…the coding of the body if you will…

They are free to choose. And then just when it clicks, when everything makes sense and there is one blinding flash of illumination, so simple that they can’t believe they haven’t seen it before, poof, they disappear.

Kind of sounds like sentience, doesn’t it, that dramatic transformation of the psyche? True personality. Real Character. What if everyone else isn’t? What if anyone else is just shallow, completely without depth, fake, and the few who go beyond it die or vanish, on purpose?

Because after all, what is the human mind besides a program? And transcendence but another word for deletion?

Fresh Prince Of Bel-air Lost Episode

Has anyone heard of the lost Fresh Prince episode? I used to be a close friend of Andy Borowitz's son, and I would go over to their house at least once a week. I was young at the time and didn't really know about Fresh Prince; I was too busy watching cartoons and collecting pogs and probably wouldn't have understood it anyway. As I got older, his son and I began to grow apart; we would hang out maybe once a month and rarely talked. In high school, I started watching the re-runs on Nick and Nite. The show was great, and I couldn't believe I had been so close to the creator's son all this time. I started watching it more and never missed a night. One night, I noticed that the mothers were different actresses; I was confused as to why they had just abruptly switched the wives. Did they think that no one would notice?

My senior year we had to do a huge project that required us to be in a group; Andy Borowitz's son was in my class. We grouped up and decided to meet at his house at 6:00 PM for researching. Before going to his house, I came home and turned on my DVR; I had some Fresh Prince on there and decided to watch one before I left for his house. It was one of the newer ones, where they had the new mom. As I was watching, I figured I might as well ask Andy what the deal was in switching. I got to his house and we began to work, but after a few hours of frustrating research, we took a break. I went towards the bathroom and noticed his dad in the kitchen, so I figured this would be the best time to ask about it. "hey, Mr. Borowitz. How are you?" "Oh, I'm fine. How's the project?" "Tough. We're all taking a break right now." There was some awkward silence, and finally I just blurted out what I've been wanting to say for so long. "Hey, I was watching Fresh Prince the other day...What was the deal with the second mom in the later seasons?" "Well, the original actress' contract was up and she didn't want to do it anymore, so we got someone to replace her." "Well, I just think it's confusing to the viewers. Why not have a divorce, have her move a way, or even kill her off?" He stood,m frozen, as if he had just seen a ghost or a badly mangled body. "What do you know?" He asked. "What?" "What do you know, mother ******?" I stared blankly at him. I tried to move, but was way too scared. "I...I...I don't know what you're talking about, sir." "Bull****. Who told you?" By this time, I was getting really scared and was looking for anything I could use as a weapon just in case. "Honestly, I don't know what you're talking about!" He stared into my eyes for about two minutes; I didn't blink. "Come into my office." He left and my heart was pounding; I was covered in sweat and felt like complete ****. I ran into the bathroom and splashed some water onto my face, trying to regain composure, but I was just too scared. I slowly walked into his office; I could hear some sort of papers ruffling and something scraping against a box. I crept in. "Sit down," he told me. I didn't want to piss him off, so I did just that and sat the **** down. He was rummaging through an old brown box; it wasn't labeled and didn't have any markings on it. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a tape. The tape had a label with something written in permanent marker, but I couldn't make it out as it looked smudged and worn. He threw it on his desk and sat down, massaging the side of his head...then he looked straight at me. "In '93, when Janet said she didn't want to continue with the show any longer, we came up with a couple of ideas as to how to continue with the show. There were three ideas: have her move to New Jersey, where she got a job teaching a Princeton, leaving the family behind in Bel Air. The second was to simply find a replacement like they've done on other shows. The third idea..." He paused, looking as if he was ready to vomit. His face became extremely pale and his eyes seemed deeply sad; he almost started crying. "Excuse me. (clears throat). The third idea was to end the show and kill her off completely. We shot all three and decided to put them all up for a vote at the end." "The first two were written and filmed within good time. We got it to the editing floor and they were all good to go. However, shooting the third was the hardest. A lot of the crew didn't want any part of it. The ones who did stay never fully recovered from what they saw. The atmosphere while shooting was tense and no one smiled at all. Normally, between takes, the actors would talk amongst themselves, but during this shoot they would go and sit or stand with their arms crossed, looking at the ground until it was their time to go up and shoot." By now, his voice was cracking and his upper lip couldn't stop trembling. He gave me the tape and told me to get the **** out, and to not come back or he would call the cops. I quickly grabbed the tape, my stuff, and went home. When I got home it was already 11:00 PM. My family was asleep, and they had left some food in the microwave for me. I didn't feel like eating. I just wanted to watch the tape. I went into my room and put the tape into my DVD Player / VCR that I got for Christmas, but his pause and went to close the door. I came back, threw myself onto my bed, and hit play on the remote. For the first five minutes, it's just black. Finally, after what seemed ages, the camera fades in and you see the mansion's living room. Uncle Phil is sitting down, watching TV, and Carlton is seen coming down the stairs. The two start talking about Carlton's plans for college, but you can barely hear what they are saying. The volume spikes up and down throughout the whole thing, and there is no laugh track, is I'm not even sure if what they were saying was supposed to be funny because they all had a dead serious look on their faces. Eventually, the entire family is in the living room except for the mother. The phone rings and Uncle Phil answers it. Immediately, he starts sobbing; it was at this pint that you could finally hear what they were talking about. Uncle Phil falls to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably and screaming in agonizing pain. The others sit there with blank expressions on their faces. The screaming continues for five minutes before Carlton picks up the phone and starts talking to the person on the other end. He just says, "yeah," and, "goodbye." Carlton walks out of frame and you can hear something said in Latin followed by a gunshot. Uncle Phil is still sobbing and screaming, but the cast looks to stage left where Carlton went. Vivian comes into frame with a shotgun, also crying, and muttering something in tongues or Latin. The entire cast scatters and runs except for Uncle Phil, who by now is having a seizure. Vivian points the gun to his head and fires a shot. She then chases Carlton up the stairs and fires one into his back. He screams in pain, but is not killed. Hillary makes it out with Will and they run to the next-door neighbors. They knock on the door, but there's no answer. They continue to knock and ring the doorbell with the same result. They check the knob and open the door, walking in and looking around; there's no power and no lights. They immediately become freaked out, but go and search for a phone. The video then cuts to some grainy footage of Vivian tying up Ashley; she is sobbing, but muffled by a gag. Vivian then drags in Carlton and begins to sing an old crooner song. She has this weird, creepy smile and tears start coming down her cheeks. Carlton begin to say a prayer, but Vivian quickly hits him with the gun and tells him to stop. She turns to Ashley and pulls out a knife; she slowly starts walking toward her, saying in a sing song voice... "Ashley, honey!""Such a good girl!""Such a beautiful girl!""My favorite girl!" She raises the knife and brings it down toward her neck. Before the knife makes impact, the scene cuts to black. This is followed by ten minutes of applause, which turns into yelling and then screaming. The screaming gets louder and louder, then it fades in to Will and Hillary finding the dead bodies on the couch and the floors and walls covered in blood, but no sign of Vivian. Hillary urges Will that they leave, but he says, "No, I want to stay." Hillary starts screaming at Will to leave, but eventually she gives up and runs out of the house. It doesn't explain why they went back in. All you see is Hillary running away. Again, the tape fades to black for about one minute. The show fades in and the credits roll. In the background is a still photo of Uncle Phil with his head blown off, Carlton with a huge wound in his stomach, Ashley looking as if someone had skinned her, and Will with his limbs torn off. The whole family is sitting on the couch like this with Vivian in the middle, smiling and covered with blood. After the credits stop rolling, the picture stays there for a good thirty minutes. I jumped off of my bed and hit eject. The VCR returned the tape, but the ribbon had jammed inside of it. I cut the tape with scissors and cleaned up the mess, beginning to examine the tape, and noticed that almost all of the film was still wound on the left side. My heart sank and I threw it in the garbage. That night, the picture from the end credits haunted my dreams, except instead of seeing the Banks family on the couch...it was my own, with me in the middle, smiling.

The letter

Creepypasta by Three Eyed Toad !!EDFd50GgP3M  [blog here]

---

Sasha,

I hope you get this. I paid a soldier over $10,000 to sneak this letter across the Q-line and mail it. Ha, $10,000. Somewhere in this city, my shitty apartment (with my cat rotting inside, no doubt) cost me $600 a month and I could barely scrape that together, but I’m going to hand a man $10,000 cash to deliver this letter. There’s plenty of money on this side, just lying around, in banks and stores, it just got left there in the panic, and if you’re brave enough to go downstairs, it’s yours for the taking. I went into a mall nearby and looted every cash register I could lay hands on, I almost backed into one of them once, I was so scared I actually pissed myself, but I went. I need you to get this letter. They check outgoing mail, and they’ll never let this one through.


I’ll start at the beginning. I know the TV shows and newspapers in the West are lying their asses off about what really happened here. It started with one man, standing all alone on the Summer Street Bridge. He was just standing there. A woman walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He grabbed her arms and pulled until she came apart like a doll. The cops came out and yelled at him through megaphones for a while, but he just stood there. A trooper approached him, and thinking he wouldn’t be a threat, tried to cuff him. The man reached out and snapped his neck. The other troopers opened fire. The bullets passed through him like smoke. They tried hitting him with batons. They went right through him. They threw things at him. They went right through him. Another trooper tried to retrieve the body of the dead trooper. The dead trooper sat up and tore his head right off his shoulders.



The wall at the Q-line, and Canada built one at their southern border, now the Northeast is it’s own little country. The Stone’s country. We call them the Stone because for the most part, it doesn’t even seem like they’re moving. It’s like the minute hand on a watch. You can see it move, but only if you stare for a really long time. But as soon as you touch them, they move fast. One lady I’m with now says they must get a burst of heat from the living in that contact, enough to fire them for one quick moment. It’s all they need, that moment. You wouldn’t believe how fast one of those things can dismantle a person. Less than 4 seconds. I counted once. Some of the people get up, some don’t. I’ve seen people with their limbs torn completely off slowly come back together and get up. I’ve seen people with no mark at all, except the odd tilt of their necks rot to mush in the streets.



They’re smart, too. Remember I said I almost backed into one? They sneak up behind you and wait for you to back into them. Ooops, sorry mister! Then your head is rolling across the floor. They also know, somehow, if you know the person they’re inside of. There’s 40 people with me, and most of them are like me, alone. The ones with family, have long since been lured downstairs by their children and mothers and wives standing on the sidewalks and looking up, sometimes they cry, sometimes they mouth words. In rain or sun or snow. A lot of them are naked now, or close to it, their clothes either torn off by the initial attack or simply tattered by all the endless hours of standing outside. People can’t stand to see their grandmother standing in a snow storm in a thin summer dress and no shoes and run down to hold them. Bye-bye. They never change once they’re Stone. Never get thinner or fatter, never eat, their hair doesn’t grow.

They do go into buildings, but only the first floor. For some reason they can’t climb. Not up stairs, not up walls, or ladders. We technically could be on the second floor and be safe, but we were scared. We found a 26 story apartment building, and we’re all on the top 5 floors. The apartment I took over isn’t much nicer than the one I left. I miss my cat. He must have starved to death ages ago. We have no water, no electricity. The Army brings us food and water and other supplies in helicopters. Every 3 weeks, they have a lotto drawing, and one person goes in the helicopter with the soldiers. They say that the person is checked out in a government hospital, then released to their family in the West, but for all we know they kick them out of the helicopter as soon as they get over the horizon. I can’t wait until my name comes up in the lotto. And I can’t trust that they won’t kill me when it does.

I saw something scary last week. I have a pair of binoculars, there’s not a whole lot to do, so I watch the Stone. A girl, no more than 7, in a pink rag that might’ve been a dress walked slowly towards a wall. I watched because there’s people in 4 other buildings around us, but she was walking towards an empty one. She walked right at a blank wall, no door or windows. I watched for over 5 hours, (I told you they were slow) watched her walk right through the wall. Like she was a ghost. Like how if you throw a rock, it goes right through them. And if a little girl Stone can walk through a wall, couldn’t they walk through the wall at the Q-line?

That’s why I risked going downstairs, finding all that cash, so I can bribe a soldier on the next helicopter into mailing this letter from the other side of the wall. So I could warn you, so you could find a nice tall building and stock it, and get off the ground. Take Ma, and Daddy and Nana and the kids. Take anyone who might lure you down later. Because if they’re inside someone you love, they’ll come right for you. It’s funny, you were so against me moving here, and you were right. I should have stayed home. I love you big sister. I pray to God you get this letter. I love you all so much.



End