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Yesterday was me and my missing wife's anniversary

xtotii

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xtotii/yesterday_was_me_and_my_missing_wifes_anniversary/

I needed a place to share this, so I chose here. I don't have any family left to rant to, so the next best option is Reddit. I'll start my saying my name is Matt (M 32) and I have a daughter named Maddison/Maddie (F 7). My wife is missing, we've been searching for two years but she's ended up as one of those ignored missing person's cases. She disappeared while I was on a business trip in California. My wife was staying home with my daughter (who was five at the time) in South Carolina. Apparently, there was screaming coming from my home. High pitched, terrified, screaming. Though after a bit it became more muffled before it stopped completely. My neighbor Danny (M 28) who heard the screaming came over to check. My daughter opened the door and said nothing was wrong. When I returned home, my wife was nowhere to be found. I nor Danny said anything to the cops about the screaming, as we were afraid we'd be subject to a murder trial. Fast forward to now, Maddie is a little unsettled by her mother's disappearance. She often talks about her and how much she misses her. Though sometimes she says odd things like, "I know where mummy is!" I laugh it off as nothing, but it unsettles me a bit. Yesterday my daughter showed me something horrifying. I came back from work and Maddie stood at the door like a dog waiting for me. Her eyes lit up seeing me come in as she began happily shouting, "Daddy! You won't believe what I did today!" "Well what'd you do, honey?" "One moment, I need to make sure it's perfect!" She skipped back to her room and slipped in so I couldn't see inside. I had hired a nanny to keep her company for the while between school and when I came home from work. She was still in her room, but I shouted, "Maddie, where's Alexandria? I don't see her!" "I'm not sure," she said whilst giggling a bit. She slipped back out of her room and grabbed my arm to guide me back to it. I was intrigued to see what she had been so proud of. She opened the door and I had forgotten how to breathe for a second. There was our nanny Alexandria, sitting on her knees with her hands tied behind her back. There was duct tape across her mouth and she was sobbing. Her forehead had been subject to many cuts and scars. Some of her fingers had been cut off and laid on the floor while her hand gushed blood. Maddie looked at me and whispered, "Are you proud of me daddy?" I didn't reply. "Wait! One last thing!" I watched her walk to her closet and stand in front of the door. "Today is you and mummy's 5th anniversary!" It was. I forgot about it. For the past two years I couldn't bear the thought of her. Maddie opened her closet and my wife's decaying body dropped onto the ground. "Happy anniversary, daddy!"

My imaginary friend is back.

xtqdju

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xtqdju/my_imaginary_friend_is_back/

As a child, I always had an "imaginary friend" of sorts. His name was Benjamin and he was very friendly, often keeping me company while my parents were out for errands or work. He looked to be in his mid-40s and had always struck me as a "father". The catch is, Mom and Dad were never able to see him, and just assumed that I was playing around and that Benjamin was a figment of my imagination. As years passed and I grew older, Benjamin's image seemed to…distort. His face seemed to change ever so slightly year after year. His nose would look broken, one of his eyes slightly higher than the other, his fingers would look increasingly gnarled. He did not look like the Benjamin I once knew. It got to a point where I had to block him out. I ignored him, his presence and his voice. I constantly pestered my parents so much about Benjamin being a nuisance that we moved out when I was about 12. Safe to say, Benjamin was never seen or heard from again, and I slowly forgot about my former imaginary friend. Fast forward to the present, I'm now 18, and I am still living in the new house with my parents. I also now have a beautiful baby sister Margaret, who is 5 years old today. I was in the process of building my life, preparing to enter society as an adult. I took a job, was studying harder in school, and although I don't have a girlfriend yet, I was quite content with my achievements so far. Things started going downhill from there. I returned home one day and I had a sense that something was wrong. There was an awful, unexplainable pressure and malignant presence that made the air in the house feel very heavy. It felt suffocating. Although it was around 3pm, the house looked eerie and dim, with the sunlight barely making it past the windows. I didn't think much of it. That was a mistake. Everything I worked for started crumbling slowly. I got fired from my job for some unreasonable excuse, my friends started distancing themselves after hearing a "rumor" about me, and my sister was constantly falling ill. My health was also deteriorating, barely getting enough sleep and losing my appetite despite feeling hungry just minutes before. I was also losing my focus in class and my grades plummeted. That's when I saw him again. His dark hair plastered to his forehead, his bony fingers, his imposing frame, that ear-to-ear grin that looked as if his lips should have been there to cover those teeth covered in dried blood, and those eyes. Those empty, soulless eyes that still somehow radiated anger. He only started showing up in my peripheral vision. I'd notice him, then blink and look again, and he was gone. I took it as severe sleep deprivation and that I was hallucinating. *God,* I thought to myself, *I should really fix my sleep schedule.* Right before I was going to sleep one night, I saw him again, in the corner of my room. I tried to ignore him again but this time, he spoke. "Why…did you leave..?" His raspy voice spoke from what was left of his vocal cords. "I gave you all my time and you…you abandoned me in that hellhole!" It was true. The old house was unusually run down, and I overheard my parents talking about some jar of human remains found behind a fake wall in the attic. However, my parents were young and in need of a place to stay while they worked out their finances. I couldn't move. I watched as he floated over to me. My chest got heavier. I felt each breath become increasingly harder to take. I watched as he came closer and closer, his bony fingers reaching for my chest… I did the only thing I could. I prayed. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…" I've never been particularly religious, but I found myself praying over and over again. As he screamed and retreated back into the darkness, I felt control of my body return. I didn't sleep a wink that night. I told my parents everything that happened. We ended up calling a priest, who got the entire house cleansed. However, he said that it would only be temporary, and the only way to get rid of it is… Please save me. Please picture Benjamin, a rotting corpse with bony fingers, a skeleton-like frame, with patches of decaying skin falling off his arms, neck, and face. Picture what little strands of hair he has left, clinging onto his peeling scalp. Picture his bottomless eyes, those dark spheres that are completely devoid of life, and most importantly that wide, wide grin that stretches from his cheeks down to his chin, with sharp teeth, no, fangs, that are caked with blood. Picture him staring at you out of the corner of your eye. His name is Benjamin, and he hung himself after killing and cannibalising children to avoid capture by the police. Please picture him and remember the details. Everything about him. That is the only way to get rid of the curse. I'm sorry to have passed him on to you, but I've already lost everything. I don't want him to take more of my life away. I'm sorry. I'm so, very sorry.

Something’s in my sisters room

xtzu2o

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xtzu2o/somethings_in_my_sisters_room/

Okay, I didn’t think I would ever say anything about this because it could just be my imagination, but I wanted to post something so here it is. Some background, I live in a ranch house, with a pretty square frame except for one room kind of poking out to create a kind of b shape from birds eye view. The Aforementioned room is the one that is something’s not quite right with. There’s this long hallway that leads to it, with not a whole lot of light permeating that area. So when I started seeing stuff out of the corner of my eye when I pass that hallway, I figured it was just the dark or my mind playing tricks on me. Another reason is that my sister has one of those beds that have the four rings that come above the bed, I don’t know what they’re called but based off where the door was it looked like it could have been one of those things. So I shrug it off but recently it’s been spreading through out the house. I’ve always kinda seen things out of the corner of my eye in this house but it’s been increasing Ten fold. My sister doesn’t live here anymore to unrelated reasons but the room still gives off a creepy vibe, and I’ve been seeing things where there’s no way it could have been just an object, Honestly, I paid it no mind and thought it was just my mind, but something happened recently that completely shattered my ignorance. My stepmom was sleeping in the room one night because my dad snores and she’s a light sleeper. She was wide awake, she has sleeping issues so once she wakes up she can’t fall asleep. One night, as she so told me, she was sleeping peacefully for once, when all of a sudden, she wakes up with a start, she goes to make coffee and starts sipping on it while scrolling on her phone. So out of the blue, when she turns off her phone and decides to go to bed, she heard a deep growl that scared the shit out of her. Needless to say she was scared so much she didn’t move until the sun came up. She isn’t one to lie, especially about something so stupid. Regardless, I still scoffed at her, but in my head I was a bit curious. Could it be I was not just imagining. About three days after I was Informed about this, I was coming out of the bathroom after taking the meanest dump of my entire life. The bathroom is in that dark hallway and I glanced at the room and I could swear I saw something move away out of sight. However I had to keep moving because I had to do the dishes and there was a ton so I didn’t even think about it as I turned away and I have this weird feeling I still didn’t get to process because all I hear are fast footsteps running behind me and then the hair on the back of my neck stood because of cold breath straight up and I booked it so fast I probably could have dusted Barry Allen. We recently had the room blessed and saved and the experiences have slowed down to almost nothing. Almost. I know whatever is in there has been there longer than me and probably longer than the previous owners. I know all the blessings and sage did is make it weaker and slow it down. I can always feel it whenever I look into that room. Ive heard something before. Whenever a spirit touches you, it touched your soul. It makes a connection. I know its there. waiting for something I hope never comes.

Has anyone heard of the Green Belt Sanatorium? [1]

xtnpvy

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xtnpvy/has_anyone_heard_of_the_green_belt_sanatorium_1/

Has anyone heard of the Green Belt Sanatorium? I encountered this place three years ago. At least, I think it's a place. Anthony seems to think it's a game, or an esoteric webseries — I'm not really sure which. A Google search returns nothing relevant. But I've been there — or I've experienced it. So it's very real. I'm convinced it's very real. But that was three years ago. Since then, I've never been able to find it again. And now that Anthony is gone, I'm not sure who to ask. *Does anyone else have a memory of this place?* ​ **— one —** "Hey, doesn't that say Green Belt Sanatorium?" Anthony was pointing out the car window. We were on hour four of the ten-hour drive home. I was at the wheel. I glanced down at my phone, cradled in the holder. The way ahead was a thick red line: 90 minute delay, according to Google Maps. But out the windshield it looked clear enough, so I put my foot on the gas. It expedited our arrival to the traffic jam in question. Four lanes of interstate clogged with cars and delivery trucks. I looked down again. 127 minute delay. There'd been an accident up front. "Fuck," I said. I turned to Anthony. He had been staring over his shoulder this whole time, like a dog fixated on something out the window. "Anthony. What are you looking at?" "Green Belt Sanatorium." "What about it?" "Don't you remember that game? From like, seventh grade?" I looked at the unmoving field of vehicles. "No. Playstation?" "PC. It was one of those freeware games that, like, turned out to be amazing." My eyes narrowed at him. "Dude, you were the only one who played those games." "I kept recommending it! It's not my fault everyone had bad taste." Anthony's folks were religious, so they were religiously strict. No Xbox, no Playstation growing up. Also, the netbook he had then was weak as shit. Could barely play movies. All this guy could play were these shitty games he found for free on the net. "Anyway," he was saying, "that game's set in a place called Green Belt Sanatorium." "Could be a coincidence." "I dunno. It's a pretty weird name." "That it is." "The game's great though, I can't believe I almost forgot about it. It was like a procedurally -generated DOOM, with no shooting. So kinda like Ultima, but with more secrets. And it was backrooms before backrooms was cool…" "Okay." I was already searching for alternate routes. Anything was better than waiting two hours in this slog, with this conversational partner, on this conversational tangent. Anthony was a homie from the olden days, but if he went on another one of his four-hour rants about obscure media, I would probably crash the car. Anthony had gone back to staring over his shoulder. I looked over and followed his gaze, but I couldn't even see the place from here. Guy was craning his neck looking at jack shit. He could be a weirdo sometimes. — "Oh look, it's there, it's right there! Look!" I wasn't looking. I was looking at Google Maps, which was showing a 45-minute detour through country roads. There were a lot of strange byroads one could miss. It was getting dark. "My god, it's just like in the game." As we passed it, I got a good eyeful. A squat but expansive slab of what they call brutalist architecture, topped with a low dome. A perimeter wall fenced in a surprisingly large front yard. It seemed out of place, a landmark of this scale on a byroad in the middle of nowhere. Next town over was probably population: less than a thousand. A glance down at the screen showed empty space... Maybe it was new? "Listen, man. We have to check it out." I looked at Anthony. "Are you serious?" "Just real quick." "Tony," — he hated when I called him Tony — "We've still got like seven hours to go, and I don't wanna drive all night." "Come on, when're we gonna be this way again? This is like a once in a lifetime opportunity." "It's only seven hours away," I said. "Listen. If you drove by the Shire, would you stop?" "This is your Shire?" "This is my Shire," he said. "And listen. I'll drive, okay? The rest of the way." I sighed. It was about six o'clock when we pulled into the parking lot on the front grounds. As far as I could tell, there was no activity outside the Green Belt Sanatorium. No caretakers keeping the lawn. No car in the lot other than ours. We walked up the steps to the front of the building. A long teller window was recessed into the facade, along with the word RECEPTION. Doors on either side led into opposing wings. Anthony tested one. "Locked," he said. "Try ringing the bell." After several moments, a middle-aged lady appeared on the other side of the plexiglass. She peered through her horn-rimmed glasses. First at me, then at Anthony. She said, "Hello. Can I help you?" "Hi there," said Anthony. "We were just wondering if this was the — and I mean THE — Green Belt Sanatorium." "Sanitarium, yes. The one and only, as far as I know." "That's so great." "Are you here to check in, or do you have an appointment?" "Well, we're more… curious about the place," said Anthony. "Heard a lot of good things from a buddy of ours back home. We were in the neighborhood, so we decided to swing by and see if it's the right choice for our friend here," he cocked his head at me. Through some heroic means I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. I could feel the woman's gaze barrel down on me in cold appraisal. That shameless look-over to diagnose exactly what's wrong with you. I took it face on. Didn't even blink. She said, "You just missed visiting hours." "Ah, what a shame," I said. "Would you like to make an appointment?" "No, we should probably be on our way," I said, smiling. Anthony leaned into the teller window. "Do you have any brochures or any kind of literature I could read? It's just hard to find anything online…" "Literature?" she said. "Yeah. Like information?" "We have books inside." "Inside?" She pointed at the door on the left. "Library in the Open Wing. Admission's three dollars each. Upkeep and maintenance and such. And no watches, wallets, or phones. You have to leave 'em here." She tapped a basket on her side of the glass. Anthony looked at me. I shook my head. No way. — It was a bad deal. I tried to explain this to Anthony, but he kept talking about our "duty as sentient beings", and threw around stuff like, "Where's your sense of adventure?" I countered that I wasn't gonna pay three bucks to get inside — to which he countered that he'd pay for me. I proposed that we get in the car and make good time before it got too late. He proposed that we fly over the cuckoo's nest, just the two of us, for the shits and giggles. We couldn't reach an accord, but I came out of negotiations with one of his cigarettes. "Make it quick, okay?" "Don't worry. Fifteen minutes, max." "Make it five," I said. But already I had that sinking feeling. Anthony was not a person known for making it quick. I should have never let him go in there alone. He paid, checked his stuff in, and signed three forms. There was a large disclaimer above the feeder tray: the Sanitarium takes no liability in the case of any theft or loss. Something about the sign made me stare at it. Then Anthony was at the door on the left. The woman buzzed him in. The thick, frosted glass swung shut behind him. I went out by the car to light up, taking the opportunity to stretch my legs. The air tasted fresh. Felt good in my lungs. I supplemented it with nicotine tar. As I looked back at the building, I noticed the distinct figure of the woman at the window, watching me. The reception was a little bit away, so I couldn't be sure where exactly she was looking. But her head was pointed my way. I took another drag on the cigarette. She stayed awfully still. I kept her in the corner of my eye as I looked around. What else was there of interest in this landscape, except for the one vehicle and its driver? I put out the cigarette, making sure that it was extinguished. Then I looked at my watch. It'd been ten minutes. Good enough. I marched my way back up the stairs. As I got closer, I realized the reception window was empty. A reflection of the setting sun, and the encroaching shadow, had played some trick on my eyes. I pressed the bell. When she finally reappeared, she almost startled me. "Hi," I said. "I'm looking for my friend who went inside. Just ten minutes ago?" The woman frowned at me. "I'm afraid visiting hours are over. Do you have an appointment or would you like to be admitted into the Open Wing?" "I'm just looking for my friend. He went to the library just ten minutes ago." I pointed to the door on my left. "That's in the Open Wing. Three dollars, please. For safety reasons, your watch, wallet, and phone are prohibited items inside the Sanitarium." "Why're they prohibited?" "The Sanitarium is a semi-hermetic local environment. We have to control the presence of hyperobjects. For the research," she said. Whatever that meant. "Hold on. Let me get some change from the car." I walked to the car, opened the glove box, got three dollars out. I put in my personal phone, closed it, slipped my credit cards and ID into my jacket pocket. I locked the car, walked back to reception. Then I checked in my cheap Casio, my wallet, and my work phone. "Sign here, please. Here, and here." ​ **— two —** Waiting room. That was the word I was looking for as I walked through the windowless halls of the Green Belt Sanatorium. Each room had no purpose but to lead on to the next room. Low ceilings, linoleum floors, soulless white walls. It was one continuous waiting room, and yet seating was surprisingly sparse. I must have wandered ten minutes before encountering another soul. An old man. Seated in an uncomfortable plastic chair the color of dried blood. A jacket and an umbrella were on the chair next to him, equally red and plastic. His eyes were fixed in the middle distance. "Excuse me, sir," I said. He didn't seem to hear me. I spoke louder. "Excuse me, sir," I said. "Do you know where the library is?" He looked at me. A slow smile crept across his face, and something like a glimmer came into his eyes. He said something in Spanish. "*Donde esta la biblioteca!*" he said, with glee. He cackled into his hands, then seemed to become self-aware. He froze and became silent again. Cast a glance down the corridor. Placed a trembling finger to his lips. "Okay," I said. "Sorry I bothered you." He put his hand in his pocket, and never looked up at me again. I continued deeper into the building, taking turns at random. There seemed to be no signage anywhere, and the library was nowhere to be found. Fuckin' Tony, man. All this for one man's nostalgia trip. Knowing him, this place was probably what he'd hoped for. Deeper in the building, the rooms stopped conforming to rectangular shapes. Odd corners and enclaves jutted every which way, sometimes hiding an unused lamp or a chair. I'd lost all sense of orientation minutes ago. Then I smelled it. The acrid stench of smoke, plastered to the walls. I followed it to a long, narrow corridor with two vertical turnstiles — like the revolving doors in the old NYC subways. Beyond was another waiting room. This one was lined with plastic chairs. On top of each was a glassy-eyed geriatric like the one I'd seen before. Many had their heads buried in a book, but some just sat there smoking. Staring at a spot on the whitewall across. Ash dripping from their unmoving fingers, collecting in piles on the floor. It wasn't just the elderly, I realized. They were adults of a wide age range, but they were all hunched over, as if they'd been sitting for years. In their hands were different books, all with the same green binding. I pushed through the turnstiles. The fumes, trapped in that low room, made me cough. No one seemed to notice my arrival. As I walked, each waiting room of people gave way to another waiting room of people. I counted what must have been fifty heads when I looked ahead to see no end in sight. There must have been a hundred people or more — all equally silent. I thought about the empty parking lot outside. *Where did they come from? How did they get here? And how will they return?* — "Tony!" I called. My voice carried down the hall, echoing unnaturally loudly in the dead air. I had found the library. It was a section of the building indistinguishable from the previous rooms, but for the floor-to-low-ceiling shelves of books. Each book had the same dull green binding, as if someone had ripped off every cover to replace it with something more nondescript. I wandered through a few rooms, dismayed to find it equally devoid of life and logic. No building should have this amount of disjointed, windowless corridors. It was a safety hazard. Anthony was nowhere to be found. It was hard to tell how much time I'd spent looking for him, but my internal clock told me it was somewhere round the twenty minute mark. "Anthony!" I shouted. I didn't care if I was in a library. It was time to get out of there. "Anthony!" My voice echoed. My footsteps quickened down the xerox halls. I blindly turned a corner and walked into a narrow corridor. It was different — no books here. It was dark, and it seemed to get narrower and narrower. I squeezed myself through the gap and found myself — At the beginning. To my right was the frosted glass door that led outside. I was back where I came in. The narrow corridor behind me was hidden in a corner I hadn't noticed when I'd first entered. With a confused sigh of relief, I pressed the button to unlock the door. What happened next I can't explain. I pushed the door open to the cool night air. It was dark — the sun must have set while I was inside. The grounds were as abandoned as ever. I walked to reception and rang the bell. Someone appeared on the other side of the plexiglass. The same receptionist, or someone who looked like her. Through the darkness, I could see her horn-rimmed glasses. "Hello. Can I help you?" "Yes. I'm looking for my friend, Anthony." "Your friend, Anthony," she said. "Your friend has already checked out." "Checked out?" I looked at the parking lot. Our rental was still there. I had the keys, jangling in my pocket. "Do you know where he went?" "I'm not at liberty to say, sir." "What do you mean?" "We can't give out that information, sir. In-patient or out." "No, we're not patients here. We're just visiting. I'm his ride." "I see," she said, helpfully. Nothing else forthcoming. I asked, "Can I have my stuff back?" "Would you like to check out, sir?" "Yes. I would like to check out." Checking out meant two signatures — one on the visitor's ledger and one on the receipt for my personal effects. In the ledger I could see Anthony's name. Check-in: 18:20. Check-out: 18:50. I pocketed my wallet and work phone. Fiddled with the clasp on the Casio. I looked at the time. It was a little bit after one. I froze. Pulled out my work phone and activated the screen. It read 1:12. One hour and twelve minutes after midnight. I looked back at the reception window, but the woman was already gone. — I got in the rental and slammed the door behind me. The interior light flicked off. I flicked it back on and opened the glove box. Pulled out my personal phone. The time on the lock screen concurred with the others. Almost a quarter past one. There was no way. There was no way I spent more than twenty minutes in there. Thirty minutes, max. There was absolutely no way I spent more than six hours inside the Sanatorium. I had several missed calls. Most of them were from Anthony. I immediately hit redial. It went straight to voicemail. Didn't even ring. Shit. I scrolled through his last messages. `Anthony [19:07]: where are you??` `Anthony [19:23]: hey pick up. u ok?` `Anthony [19:47]: dude!!!` `Anthony [20:25]: bro I don't know where you went but im getting hungry. I'm gonna try to get to midway, u can find it on maps. please call me when you see this` `Anthony [21:43]: yo my phone is dying. still walking to midway` I opened up Maps and zoomed out. There was a small town called Midway, thirteen miles away. I calculated the route. It was almost a five hour walk. With the car, I'd be there in [thirty minutes](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xulta1/the_green_belt_sanatorium_2/).

The Monster Burger

xu126j

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xu126j/the_monster_burger/

I’m not sure where to put this, I didn’t imagine I could ever find myself in this situation or that this would be my reality. I also don’t know what to do, where to go from here. Skip town? My mom is missing, and I know they took her. I killed her. It’s my fault, and I want to bring them down. But they own fucking everything, they’re fucking everywhere, I don’t even know what THAT THING WAS. I (17M) come from a semi small town, a population of about 5,000. There’s only three restaurants in town, and I managed to get one at MegaBurger. It’s really big in my town, and it ended up buying out the two other restaurants in town as well as a few other shops. I haven’t seen any outside of our town so I’m assuming it’s just a Cacheview thing. My mom had been nagging me for weeks to get a job, and I should have fought her on this. I’m starting my senior year and have a car my parents bought me with the condition that I am in charge of gas. I knew a few friends that worked there and they managed to hook me up. My manager seemed super normal. She gave me the tour and helped train me, a super friendly older lady. She reminds me of your typical redneck mom with 14 kids. Everything seemed normal when I started. It was cool to see how a restaurant I grew up with operated, how clean everything was. The only thing that I guess seemed strange was the locked door to the cellar. It wasn’t strange when I first saw it, they said there were some issues with the pipes downstairs and they hadn’t had time to renovate it. It was just easier to lock it up. Bottom line, don’t go downstairs. Seemed simple enough, nothing unusual. My first week of work was easy, I messed around with coworkers and got used to my job. I take orders up at the front counter and get to see a lot of people I know. Then came my first opening shift. It was semi-slow, and the owner of the restaurant was in her office filing some paperwork. Becky fucking Wallace. She took a moment to say hello to me, and I remember thinking how cool she was. How she was nice and seemed to fucking care! She asked what grade I was in, what colleges I was looking at! My planned major! How are my parents? She went to high school with my fucking mom! Maybe an hour after she left, I was in the back grabbing straws and napkins when I heard pounding. Desperate and hard, loud as can be, coming from the basement door. I immediately thought it must’ve been a coworker who got locked in, and went to open the door. But there was no one there. Just a low crunching, like something was slowly crumpling in the pipes. I couldn’t see anything at the bottom of the wooden staircase, so I decided to call down for the person. A low and deep moan called back, as if the entire building shifted. I braved myself and walked down the stairs. My flashlight didn’t find much, just some old mouse skeletons and raccoons. I wish I didn’t find it however, I wish I just let the person bang on the door. At the end of the room, sitting on its throne of bones was a giant brown blob with pulsing tentacles. Its breathing was heavy, almost painful. I didn’t move from its spot, almost not noticing me or caring that I was there. It didn’t have eyes, just smooth skin that seemed to sweat sewage. How I hadn’t smelled it before was incredible, it reeked of death. I guess that's when it all hit me, and I felt myself trying to will my legs to carry me upstairs. I couldn’t move however, even as its tentacle slowly slanked towards me, moving the dust on the floor. It probably would've pulled me away, but my manager yanked me. She dragged my body up the stairs, cursing me out. Telling me she should just let it have me, be less trouble. Once outside, I could feel my limbs again, how heavy my knees were. How close I was to freeing someone. She called Becky, mumbling on the phone while I sat in her office. There’s only two managers at our store, and it is only now that I am figuring out why. Becky showed up not long after, not seeming to pay attention to me. She didn’t take anytime to explain what that thing was, where it came from, why it’s FUCKING HERE! “You or them?” is all she said, looking down at a piece of paper. “Who?” was met with nothing. I sat there stunned, silent. I wanted to just run, this had to be a nightmare. How had no one noticed? How had I not noticed? I guess that didn’t matter at this moment. Me or them. What would you FUCKING CHOOSE? Yourself? Die? No one would. So I said them. I saved myself and now I regret it everyday. Now she’s gone and I’m here, looking at her photos. Watching my dad just keep going, living his life. The old spelling tests still up on the fridge, she put them there. Becky came back at some point holding a burger, no wrapper and fresh. She let her finger run along the patty, examining it. “Want a bite? You should get the first taste of your creation.” She had a wild look to her, unhinged and untamed. But she was still herself. Composed, neat hair, and a perfectly ironed pink blouse. I felt sick. They were in that burger, that's what that thing is for. I wasn’t sure what to do for the rest of the shift, there weren't any spoken words. Just an understanding. I killed someone. I pointed the gavel and commended someone to death. I never saw who, I sat in the office while they did it. I don’t know how they grab the people, why their family doesn’t ask what happened. I handed out orders, the image of the thing creeping in whenever someone would grab their bag. Who is the person in the burger? Should I tell them? There was no threat, no if you tell a soul, just an understanding. Then I went home, and I wish I didn’t. I grew sick at the sight of the MegaBurger bag. Its haunting yellow smile glowing on the brown material. My dad had a handful of fries stuffed in his mouth. He made a comment on the burger, how it was especially good today. I vomited right there. And I didn’t see my mom the rest of the night.

I survived the 'Vampire Killer'. But it came at a cost (Final)

xtt98b

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xtt98b/i_survived_the_vampire_killer_but_it_came_at_a/

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xs15s7/a_vampire_is_stalking_my_school_im_gonna_kill_it/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | [Mia's death](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/mtas1y/i_watched_a_girl_die_and_no_one_will_ever_solve_it/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Last time, I left of before going after the Wickerson's Quarry Vampire Killer, and I hoped I wouldn't die. So, it’s obvious from the fact that I’m writing this that I did not, in fact, die. But…things didn’t go great, not really, and…I mean, the monster, it’s… No, fuck the monster, Ella— I… I don’t know what I can say. I guess I’ll just…write what happened, but beware: it’s a long story. So I left here early—way too early, by the way. I’m not sure I’ve ever woken up for 4am before. I wanted to give myself some time to get off school grounds while everyone was asleep, but I did wait another half an hour or so after sneaking out before I went much further. I used that time to duct tape silver knives to a stick. Then, I headed into the forest, equipped with a headlamp I’d borrowed from Rhy. I followed the road and my phone’s GPS for a while until I reached the house. At this point, by the way, I was feeling…weird. I kept my hand on my weapon at all times, and kept glancing around the forest. I jumped at every single sound. I saw the footprints, yknow. They looked fresh, and the thought of that alone sent shivers up my spine. Surely the police must’ve searched this place, right? Surely they’d have found anything to be found, and I was just wasting my time, right? …Right? I’d been trying to be quiet. Not entirely sure why, since everything I’ve read about vampires says they have good hearing, but I was, right up until I reached the house. It was locked tight, as I probably should’ve expected, and there was no sign of police activity. No tape, no sign, no nothing; just a dark house, and a faint smell on the breeze. I threw a rock through the window. I didn’t feel like I had much choice, okay? The place was locked, and that weird feeling I’d had was getting worse by the minute. So I just…picked up a large rock from the garden and tossed it as best I could. Which turned out to be not great, but it was enough to crack it, and a second go at it smashed the thing entirely. I let myself in from there. I didn’t feel *great* about it, but reasoned that the owner was either dead or in serious mortal peril, and wasn’t really in a position to give out about it. I *did* put some gloves on, though. If the police *hadn’t* searched the house, or came back later, I didn’t really want to be leaving my fingerprints just dotted around the place, yknow? This was a good call, because the further I went in, the more sure I was that the police were yet to touch the place, or at least to search it in any detail whatsoever. It was dark in the house, and smelled even worse. Everything was grungy and wore, like it’d been there longer than I’d been alive, and every board creaked under my feet. I kept feeling like something was watching me, but every time I turned around, there was nothing there. My knifestick never left my hand. I was sure I’d found the right place at this point. I searched the first floor and found nothing, then moved to the second. The floorboards were even creakier up there, and my nerves were *beyond* frayed. A creepy-ass cuckoo clock went off at one point, and I almost shit myself. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary…or at least, not at first, ‘cause as soon as I reached the bedroom, the smell almost knocked me on my ass. It was a hundred times stronger in there; that awful sweet scent of rot and rust, and I knew as soon as I walked in that it was a corpse. There was nothing else I could think of that would smell like that. It was…yikes. I really can’t describe it in any way that does it justice. Think of the worst smell you’ve ever smelt, and multiply it. Then multiply it again, and you’ve made it about a third of the way. Despite the stench, however, there was no body in sight—literally. I crouched down, cautiously, to peer under the bed, but there was nothing down there, either. I was about to check the bathroom when I saw the weird, sick stain above the light. It was a reddish brown stain, spreading out from where the light hung. It almost *glistened* with moisture, and as I watched, a large droplet fell onto the carpet below. I didn’t need to get close to confirm what seemed pretty obvious at the time; the liquid smelled like death, too. So, I had to check the attic. Of course I had to check the attic. I was becoming more and more sure there was a dead man up there, and the thought of it was nauseating. But, uh…it was what I’d gone there to do. So…I found the door and up I went. As soon as I opened the small door, the smell hit me like a sack of bricks. It was so much worse up close. Worse than the rest of the house. Worse than the bedroom. It even smelled worse than the nasty liquid that dripped from the ceiling. I repeat: I can*not* describe this stink. My eyes darted around the room. For a second I couldn’t see anything, and I cursed myself for not bringing a better torch. Then, in the dim light of the attic, I noticed the shape in the corner. It was hunched over, curled up into a ball and rocking slightly. It kept reaching out to touch the lumpy shape next to it; a shape which I was quickly realising was way too still and *way* too humanoid. If the figure noticed me, or my light, it didn’t react. As I stood there, in the still silence of the room, I could hear a girl’s voice, crying. It was so soft—soft enough that I hadn’t heard it from the floor below. That’s what made me step forwards; what if it was Ella? Maybe I’d made it in time. I glanced around the room again, looking for anyone else that might be around. I still didn’t know who the figure was, and if it wasn’t the vampire, I didn’t wanna be caught off guard. But no; as far as I could tell, it was just me and the heap in the corner. I had to step forwards, right? I went to move, but before I could, a shaky voice spoke out in the darkness. “You—” the voice faltered. “You should leave.” With a surge of joy, I realised that I knew that voice. It was Ella Jones. Ella Jones was *alive*! I’d made it. “Ella?” I said, maybe a little louder than I should’ve? “Ella, that’s you, right?” A beat. “Ella?” I tried again. “...You’re from Wickersons,” she realised. Her voice was quiet and shaky. “You’re…I’m sorry, I don’t—don’t remember your name.” “Sammy,” I said. “I’m Sammy Stahl. Ella, listen—the thing that took you, is it here?” I figured I should cover my bases, just in case something was waiting to jump me. I heard a rustling noise. I think she might’ve shook her head in the darkness. Then after a second, Ella spoke. “No. No, I don’t think so. He left to…hunt, I think.” I cringed. If the monster was out hunting… “Okay. Okayokayokay. Listen, Ella, we gotta get outta here. If that thing comes back…” I needed to kill it, obviously, and I still planned to. But Ella’s safety was more important; I couldn’t fight *and* protect her, so I needed to get her to safety. “Let’s just go, and then—” “No!” I jumped a little. Ella’s voice held so much *force*, in a way I seriously wasn’t expecting. “Ella—” “No,” she said again, softer this time. “I can’t.” “It’ll be okay,” I encouraged. “I’m gonna kill it, but first, I gotta get you to safety.” More rustling. As I stepped towards her, I could see her shaking her head *vigorously*. She still wasn’t facing me. I started to get a bad feeling. “I can’t go back,” she said. “It’s too late.” “Don’t say that.” I felt like I was begging. That feeling was getting worse, and I suddenly knew that I *needed* to get closer, to see Ella properly. That feeling, that hunch—I was wrong, right? I’m always wrong, always stupid. I was wrong this time, too. “You need to leave,” she said again. “Please, Sammy. Leave.” “I’m not leaving you,” I insisted. “You just gotta come with me, and—” She turned to me, and I stepped forwards, and I saw it. I saw her face. Ella was soaked in blood. All down her front, all down her neck, even on her face, dripping with it. Her skin looked almost translucent, though some of it might’ve been the light, and her hair hung in knotted clumps. She looked up at me with foggy eyes, coloured like rust. She was so still… “I didn’t make it in time,” I whispered. Ella was dead. The vampire…it must’ve made her one of them. ‘Turned’ her, I think they call it. Mia used to watch this shitty vampire romance show, and—well, anyway, it’s not the point. “What happened?” I asked. She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just woke up, and everything was red, and I was so *thirsty.* So—I—this man, he—” Only then did I look at the shape beside her. The body, with its neck torn out and limbs all over the place. It was a middle aged man, caked in dry blood and what looked like vomit. He was really, obviously dead. “Did you—?” Ella nodded, shakily. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t think he meant to, either. The…the nosferatu.” I recognised the word from my reading. I haven’t checked it yet, but I was pretty sure it meant vampire. “I don’t think it meant to make me…like this. I was meant to die, but—it said it would take care of me.” She sniffled, staring at the man she’d killed. “It said I couldn’t go home, or I’d hurt someone. And it’s right.” I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t say she was wrong, ‘cause she wasn’t. She was a monster, a danger, and… And just a little bit ago, she’d been a person, just like me. She was a victim, too. I hunt monsters. But I didn’t wanna hunt her. “I want to hurt you,” she said, her voice low and almost desperate. “You smell so good, and I want to *hurt* you. But I don’t want to be a monster. I don’t want to kill you; you came to help me. I don’t want to kill anyone.” All I could think for a second was *please don’t*, but I didn’t think I could say that. I didn’t know what I could say—I mean, hell, what *could* I say in this situation? I was staring at a dead girl, and all I could really think about was if I should be making her even deader. There was nothing good I could say, or even think. Before I could do anything, though, Ella stiffened. “He’s coming back. You need to go—you need to go, right now, or he’ll kill you. You need to leave us—we can’t stay here forever, so things can go back to normal soon, okay? You need to go.” My hand tightened on my weapon. I didn’t know what I was gonna do about Mia. I didn’t know what could even be *done* about her, but I knew one thing. I’d come to kill a monster, and if it was coming back? I’d be ready for it. “I’m not leaving you here,” I said. “And I’m not letting anyone else die.” “But—” “No buts! None!” I declared. “I’m fighting. And I’ve done this before, so don’t worry about me.” Ella looked at me for a second, then slowly stood up. “Then…then I’ll fight with you,” she decides. I opened my mouth, but before I could protest, she cut me off. “Don’t argue with me. You don’t stand a chance on your own. He knows you’re here, so you don’t even have the element of surprise, and—” “Okay,” I caved. “Fine. Okay.” I kinda realised at this point that, as a vampire herself—nosferatu, sorry—she could probably hold her own just as well as I could. “Just, uh, do me a favour real quick?” “Yeah?” I reached out and touched my weapon to her skin. She yelped, and I pumped a fist in the air. “Ahaaa, it works! Uh—sorry.” Ella rubbed her arm. It was at that moment that I heard footsteps from somewhere below me. The monster was home. Quickly, I reached into my backpack and drew out a small pouch, filled with sand. The footsteps grew louder, and faster. “Use this,” I told her. “You should know what to do with it, maybe. Hopefully.” She looked inside, then nodded. Then, the nosferatu burst through into the attic. Everything seemed really fast after that. Ella lunged towards it, moving so fast she practically *blurred*. She flung a handful of sand at it, and it—he? I’ll stick with it—roared in pain. It lashed out at Ella with one hand, sending her flying backwards. Then it turned on me. Its eyes were closed, so I don’t think it could see me, but it could definitely both smell and hear me, and its lack of vision was *not* slowing it down. It lunged, but with shaky accuracy, and I was able to leap out of the way, taking nothing but a scratch to my arm. As it recovered from the lunge, I jabbed my weapon towards it. It tried to intercept, but only succeeded in grabbing it as I shoved the makeshift spear midway into its neck. It howled in pain, and I let out a small ‘ha!’ as I jumped away again. That was my first mistake, I think. I got cocky. I jabbed at it again, right as Ella leaped for it. I got another hit in as it fielded her away, though it only went partway into its chest before hitting the ribs. Fuck—that was gonna be hard with it moving so much. I knew where the heart was, but getting there was a *whole* other issue. Ella yelped, narrowly dodging as the monster grabbed for her. Still riding my first two victories, I swung a third time—only to be intercepted midway by the monster’s hand. It yanked my weapon forwards, pulling me off balance and ripping my weapon from my hand. Despite the audible *hiss* it made when touching its skin, the monster didn’t let go, instead throwing it towards Ella like it was a javelin before whirling back towards me. I was dodging before it even attacked, and I think that saved my life, as its claws grasped the air where my neck had just been. It wasn’t as fast as I’d been expecting, but it was still *fast*, and I found myself struggling as the creature fended off both Ella and me. Its vision had clearly healed by now, as it was speeding up, and its foggy red eyes were wide open and flicking between both of us. Ella lunged again, aiming for its legs this time. As the two of them fell to the ground, I fumbled for my hairspray and lighter. I knew it was risky; if I wasn’t careful, I’d get both Ella and the monster, and set the house on fire to boot. But it seemed like a pretty effective distraction if nothing else, and I couldn’t see where my other weapon went. My hands found their target, and I shook the can vigorously, right as the monster threw Ella aside. I lunged forwards, took aim and *fired*. The fire was really impressive. Equally impressive was how quickly the support beam behind the monster caught fire, though the thing itself ignited pretty nicely, too. The flame caught the dark, messy hair of the thing and lit up like a Christmas tree, and while I was *disappointed* the whole thing didn’t catch like paper, I had to admit that it was never realistic. Hair burning, the monster howled, lunging *directly* towards me. Right before it could slice me open, however, something hit me from the side, knocking me to the ground and out of the way. Fire lit up the room, quickly spreading, and in that light I realised what’d hit me; Ella had knocked me to safety. The fire leapt to her, too, and at this point, I was realising it was a really, *really* bad idea to start igniting things. But it was too late, and all I could do was shout to Ella as her hair went up in flames. “Tear it out!” I yelled. “Quickly!” She gave me a look like I was insane, then grit her teeth as she ripped her flaming hair right out of her head with a noise I can only describe as ‘awful’. The nosferatu did the same, but with a lot more of its hair burning, the fire simply spread to its sleeves, making it scream once again. I scrambled to my feet, coughing as I did. The smoke was starting to fill the attic, and I wondered if smoke inhalation would kill me before the vampire could. The smell was awful, too—a disgusting combination of burnt hair and smoke that sent me gagging. I fumbled with my bag again, this time coming up with the holy water water gun. I wished that I’d thought of that before the fire, but it was too late for regrets at that point. As the nosferatu turned back towards me, still fielding Ella away, I pulled the trigger, spraying blessed water directly at it. It hissed, loudly. I could *hear* its skin burn as the water soaked into it. The scream it let out was one of pure rage. It lunged towards me again, then twisted at the last minute, slashing out at Ella, quickly enough that neither one of us could react. Its claws sliced open her throat, exposing the bone. Then, it shoved her to the ground and turned back towards me. I unleashed another spray of holy water, but despite the visible burn of it, the monster didn’t slow. It didn’t even flinch. Instead, it leapt at me, putting on that burst of speed I’d seen before and pushing me to the ground. I tried to get back on my feet, but before I could, it was on top of me, holding me down. I tried to push it off, but it was too strong; too heavy. I couldn’t reach my backpack, because it was underneath me, digging into my back. I couldn’t reach my water gun, because I’d lost it when I fell. I could see Ella, sprawled on the ground nearby, head nearly severed, and I wondered if he’d killed her properly, this time. Then, the vampire’s fangs were on me, and I couldn’t wonder anything at all. Being bitten by a vampire…all I can compare it to is like…I don’t know, I’ve never been on drugs, but all I can imagine is that it would feel like that. All my thoughts just…drifted away. Distantly, I knew I was in danger, and a part of me kept screaming to run, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move, and…a part of me didn’t want to move. It felt good, even as that damn monster sucked the blood right out of my neck. I felt like I was watching myself die, but couldn’t bring myself to care. I stared up into the flames that surrounded us. They were kinda pretty, and I didn’t mind dying to a view like that. I didn’t mind dying at all. Maybe…maybe if I did, I could see Mia again. I closed my eyes. There was a distant crash, and a cry. Bright light shone outside my eyelids. Then, the monster pulled away with a scream, and the world rushed back in. I gasped, then gagged on the smoke. The monster was off of me now, and I couldn’t figure out why until I saw the debris surrounding us. Until the light hit me, and I realised that it wasn’t fire. It was pure, honest daylight. Had the roof collapsed? I thought that had to be it, until my eyes adjusted and I saw the figure standing where the roof used to be. Ella. She wasn’t dead. She’d broken through the roof. Flames spread up her clothes and what remained of her hair. Her skin was burning away in awful chunks where the daylight hit her, but she didn’t let that stop her. Instead, she dashed for me. I tried to speak, tried to move, but whatever the vampire had gotten me with was still in my system. All I could do was cough as Ella grabbed me and leapt from the building. There was an impact, then another as Ella threw me onto the grass. She was still burning, but I wasn’t—the sun was harmless to me, and the fire I’d set wasn’t burning her anymore. I coughed and coughed and coughed some more, then threw up a mouthful of nothing onto the grass. “Sammy…” she said. “Run, Ella,” I rasped. “The sun—it’s killing you—” Ella smiled, sadly. Her skin was almost sloughing off now, the muscle underneath completely blackened. The smell was horrific. But Ella just…smiled. She smiled at her, then smiled up at the sun. “I’m not running,” she said. “There’s nowhere to run to.” “The trees—” “Aren’t enough to save me.” “The house—” “Will be burned to the ground before long.” “But you’ll *die*,” I finally got out. “You’ll be dead, Ella. You can’t come back from that.” She shook her head, then, still smiling. She stared down at her burning hands. “I’m already dead,” she said softly. “If I lived…I was just going to ask you to kill me.” She looked back at me. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? You kill monsters.” “You’re not—a monster—” Ella sighed. She tipped her head back, staring up at the sky. “Do you…think I’ll go to heaven?” she asked. I don’t think it really hit me until then—just how badly I’d failed. But I stared up at her as her body began to crumble, and I saw the fear in her eyes. She didn’t wanna die. Was there nothing I could’ve done? “...Yeah.” My voice broke on the word, and I realised with a jolt that I was crying. “Yeah, I bet you will.” Her smile…it looked more genuine, when I said that. I’d made her happy. Made her…less scared. “Good,” she said softly. “Thank you, Sammy.” Her legs crumbled beneath her, and I caught her as she fell. Her eyes glazed over as she stared up at the sky, chest rapidly falling into nothing. “Tell—t-tell my family,” she said. “Tell them—I—” Ella’s chest fell away, and there was no more air to speak with. Her eyes flicked to me, full of terror, and I knew I’d carry this with me forever. I’d carry her with me. “I’ll tell them,” I promised her. My voice cracked on the words. She mouthed something, just as her face started to come apart in my hands. And…I can’t lip read like Rhy can…but I thought she maybe said ‘thank you’. A breeze picked up, and she was gone; just dust in my hands. I looked for traces of the other vampire, afterwards. I couldn’t find much, but the dust left behind told me all I needed to know. It was gone, and that was all that mattered. I was safe. Then I went back to Wickersons, curled up into my bed and sobbed until I ached. I failed her so badly. I wanted to save her. I wanted to save her, like I couldn’t save my sister, but I failed again. I always goddamn fail. Why am I the only one who survives these things, huh? I brought some of the dust back with me; just…put it in my backpack. I know it’s weird, and I know I can’t ever tell anyone what it is, but I just…I couldn’t leave her there. I think I’ll keep a tiny bit, then spread the rest on the green; I asked around earlier, and found out she spent time out there. So…I think she’d like that. Emergency services showed up to the fire a few hours after, I was told, but there wasn’t any house to save. They did, however, find the charred remains of at least two bodies, which checks with what I found in the attic. They haven’t come to question me. In a way, the fire kinda saved my ass. If they’d found my fingerprints in there… The police came to the same conclusion I did, I think; the killer was hiding out in the house, storing the bodies until it planted them away from home. I know they’ll probably identify the bodies soon…I just wish that there was something left of Ella to find. I got hurt pretty badly, too. Cuts and bruises and scrapes, but a pretty bad cough popped up almost as soon as I got home. From the smoke, I think, and it became pretty clear pretty quick that I needed a doctor, but I covered my own ass by, um…setting a fire in the bin of the boys toilets, then claiming I inhaled smoke from it. I got a month of detentions for it, but at least the nurse checked me over. I’ll be okay. Physically, at least. I have to wonder…why’d this happen? I mean, this is my fourth monster this year, and Wickersons Quarry isn’t exactly a huge area. There’s no way that many monsters should be showing up. And yet, I don’t think it’s gonna be the last. Something about this place… I took a few days off class. Today’s my last day of break, so I thought I’d finally write this all down. As awful as it is, and as majorly as I failed…it’s still a case, and I guess it’s technically a success. I mean…the monster’s dead. Both of them. I just…wish there’d been another way. For now, however, I gotta lay low. My friends have been worried about me, and Rhy specifically keeps insisting I rest and bringing me things. I dunno how to tell him that I’m definitely able to walk. I guess…maybe I should just enjoy it. I’ll write again soon. I have way too many thoughts in my head, and it’s not like I can talk to anyone about them. This hunting log might become more of a diary than a log, but…oh well. If anyone ever sees this, I’ll just show them the parts I want them to see. Cases, failures and all. God, no one should ever become a monster hunter. Worst job ever. But for now, I rest, I recover, and I try my best to forget how it felt, holding a girl as she crumbled apart. I’m gonna need so much therapy someday. Signing out for now, Sammy Stahl. — **CASE: The Wickerson’s Quarry Vampire Killer** Status: **Solved** Monster: Nosferatu Weaknesses (confirmed): Holy water, silver, sunlight. Disintegrates when exposed to the sun. Strengths: Bursts of speed, enduring, good senses. Assessment: Be cautious.

Something horrifying happened to me while working at Beecham's Bank in Leeds

xtzk2i

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xtzk2i/something_horrifying_happened_to_me_while_working/

There is something wrong with the banks of the world because I used to work in one. This started when I was working at Beecham's Bank located in the United Kingdom, and its existence is almost legendary. The bank itself was founded by John Beecham in the early 19th century who was a successful financier and entrepreneur. However, there was a disturbing side to him nobody talks about that being he was a member of the Society of Financial Preservation, a group of bankers, merchants, and descendants of the original conspirators in the Gunpowder Plot who escaped to the New World only to come back more successful than ever. Also, I heard they were involved with the Salem witch trials and escaped back to England under the guise of Catholics to avoid persecution. This was a wild rumor and I was told over and over again but didn't believe it until my research discovered something more sinister was going on. The following is so dreadful that I even doubt existence sometimes but I'll do my best to explain what happened to me at Beecham's Bank. I was working at my desk one day and a lady came in and asked me if she could open a vault deep in the basement area but something was off about her. She had a grin on her face and bloodshot eyes that looked like it was caused by insomnia. Then she introduced herself as Mrs. Crenshaw and has been waiting to open a vault of her late husband Mr. Crenshaw. Mrs. Crenshaw looked like she was in her late forties and early fifties with long gray hair, cold eyes, and smelled of old perfume. Then Mrs. Crenshaw said, "I am trying to get access to paper documents that my late husband left me in his will at the bank" and then grinned intensely. I asked for her ID and information about the documents and gave Mrs. Crenshaw the key to open the vault as a shadowy figure ran across the hallway but didn't notice it at the time. The figure was picked up later by a security camera and it was the catalyst of what happened next. But this was not the only terrifying thing about this whole ordeal and I am still debating going to the authorities even if it makes me look like a lunatic so be it. Then Mrs. Crenshaw left around closing time which was 5:30 p.m. and I was there alone inspecting the rest of the vaults and heard a scratching sound coming from a locked room. I shouted, "Hello, we are closed for the night and will open back up at 9 a.m. please return in the morning!" and didn't hear a thing until a few minutes later. This time I heard a growling sound coming from the same room that was supposed to be locked and thought it was the pipes making weird noises. Then I turned on my flashlight and saw it, a tall skinny pale creature with glowing red eyes, a disfigured face like a wolf, and rows of sharp teeth it had claws the size of daggers on each hand. My body froze in terror as it growled at me ready to take down its prey which was, unfortunately, me. I slowly backed up to the corner waiting for the beast out of hell to finish what it started. But I was surprised that the lights suddenly came on and the beast retreated into the dark corridor. What I saw next still gives me nightmares to this day, a pile of human skeletal remains where the creature retreated after shining my flashlight in the dark was neatly separated with bones in one pile and skulls in the other. Also, I saw 19th-century Victorian clothes belonging to men and women, especially the poor people who couldn't afford the payments on time, and assumed that they were sent down here to meet their deaths. I was furious and scared at the same time at the thought this is how they treated people who were part of the lower class and practically starving to death only to be killed by the bank. Then I heard a voice saying, "Now you know the terrible secret we can't let you leave now!" and it came from Mrs. Crenshaw who is just standing there staring at me holding up some papers. I picked up a fire hydrant and threatened her if she didn't let me leave peacefully and then heard a growling sound behind her. She looked back and turned pale as Mrs. Crenshaw mumbled to herself as the monster picked her up by the neck and tossed her across the room. I hurried out of the basement of the bank as a huge iron door slammed in the back of me and locked on its own. Then I heard screaming and growling coming from the other side and a pool of blood was coming from the bottom of the door and everything went blank. The next thing I remember was waking up in a hospital bed with a nurse next to me and saying, "You are finally awake!" with an astonishing look on her face. Then I asked, "What happened to my arm and leg?" trying to make sense of the situation. She said, "You were in a very terrible accident and rushed to the hospital!" while she was changing my dressings. The news reporter on the television came on and said, "We have breaking news there was a robbery that went wrong at Beecham's Bank in Leeds there is at least one person dead and one missing!" and I felt a chill go down my spine knowing who they were referring to. When I saw that surveillance footage aired on the news report my heart jumped out of my chest as the creature was making its way down the old corridor. But everybody chalked it up as being a homeless man who committed a heinous act of murder and is still on the run to this day. I told the police what happened and they took my statement but didn't hear anything else about it until months later. Mrs. Crenshaw had an affair with a young man who supposedly murdered her husband for life insurance, and when she refused to pay him the man killed her as well. But I know the truth and it will haunt me for the rest of my life because the bank was shut down for a while but then reopened under new management keeping the old name Beecham's Bank.

My twin brother died when he was nine. Last night he came back

xt9qy4

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xt9qy4/my_twin_brother_died_when_he_was_nine_last_night/

I’m still shaken up by everything that happened. My head is a mess and I’m probably going to have to change my job. Not probably, definitely. There’s no way I can go back to the Lullaby Ward ever again. Some background first. My twin brother, Isaac, died when I was nine years old. Everyone talks about how special twins are, that they have this psychic link, this relationship that is closer than any other human being has to another. I never felt that way. We were identical, but in appearance only. He was outgoing, adventurous. I was introverted. It used to embarrass me how open he was with everyone. People would assume I was just the same. I must have lost count of the number of times someone would talk to me and expect the same response, only to have this confused look on their face when they found this complete opposite in the same shell. Isaac died on a family holiday. My family took a trip to France every year, always staying at the same holiday park. The best part was the pool, with its slides and inflatables, we spent more time there than at the beach, which was just a few minutes’ walk away. The summer Isaac died, the pool was closed. Apparently there was an issue with the cleaning system. Whatever the reason, we were told that it was off limits. And besides, the sea was nearby. Who was going to miss the pool? Isaac was devastated. He loved the pool, wouldn’t stop talking about it in the weeks before the holiday. When he saw it was closed, he sulked for most of the first day. But something must have switched in his head, as the next morning he woke me up at 5 a.m. “Donnie, let’s go for a swim.” Donnie is not my name, nor is it an alternative I’m using to hide my identity. Donnie was a nick name that Isaac gave me. We were both big ninja turtle fans. My favourite was Donatello, something that Isaac could never understand. So he used to call me Donnie. No one else did, and my parents and relatives all thought it was strange. He was desperate for me to call him Mikey, but I never did. Anyway, he woke me up and, for some reason, I was happy to oblige. We snuck out of the chalet and made our way to the pool. Despite it being closed, it wasn’t fenced off or anything. Just taped off. I followed Isaac through the barrier to poolside. “See? We can swim.” I wasn’t quite sure what Isaac was on about. The water was filthy, a deep dark green colour that looked as bad as it smelt. “I’m not swimming in that,” I said. “Fine,” said Isaac, “Be a loser.” He climbed up the ladder to the top of the plunge slide. It was our favourite. Probably about five metres tall, at least it felt that big when we were nine. It was a sheer drop with a little lip at the bottom that would send you up high before you came splashing back down in to the pool. Probably wouldn’t pass any health and safety regulations these days. “Watch this,” said Isaac. He launched himself headfirst down the slide. Something he had done many times before. This time was different. The bottom of the slide with the lip was covered with some of the green scum water. As Isaac hit that part, his body slid sideways. He flew up in a weird sort of spinning motion before landing with a horrible wet splat on the edge of the pool. Head first. He made a horrible sighing sound before falling limply into the water. I screamed out in horror. Isaac disappeared beneath the green surface for a moment. I wish that moment had lasted longer, giving me a chance to turn away, or start running. But it was all too brief. Isaac’s body – it was a body by then – surfaced. Isaac stared up blankly at the sky above. His head was at ninety degrees from his body. His neck had snapped, killing him instantly. By the time help arrived, I was a wreck. Even though we weren’t close, he was still my brother. I loved him. And he was gone in an instant. The months after were awful. The funeral was well attended, but all the focus was on me. Who needs an open casket when you have a carbon copy sitting nearby. People would cry just looking at me. I even found it difficult to look in a mirror for a while. Don’t think my mum ever looked at me the same way either. It took time but I was able to move on. I went through high school and college okay, decided against university. I wanted to start work so I could get money and get my own place. Spare my mum from having to look at a ghost each and every day. I bounced between a few terrible jobs before I found work at the hospital. A friend of mine had said working in healthcare was great, even in a non-medical way. So when I saw the night cleaner role advertised at decent pay, I thought, “Fuck it. Why not?” The job turned out to be at the special palliative care unit at the hospital. A place where very sick people at the end of their life go to die. My role was to clean things at night. Mostly the rooms where patients had expired. They don’t always go quietly, so it took a strong stomach to be able to deal with what you found. Despite the grim nature of the place, I had a great team to work with. The doctors and nurses were all pretty chilled. They had this mindset about end-of-life care. They were performing a service for the loved ones as much as the patients. “Let them pass with grace and dignity,” was how one doctor had explained it to me. Send them off to sleep one last time. Hence the nickname the ‘Lullaby Ward’. There was a rotation of three other cleaners who I worked with. Mateusz was a polish guy with the best sense of humour. Jane was like a mother to us, and we had this feeling she would have much rather been a nurse than a cleaner. We never pushed to find out why she had never retrained. Finally, there was Gordon. He had been working there the longest and showed me the ropes. We ended up on a shift together the most. “This place is sort of sacred,” said Gordon. “This is where humanity is best demonstrated. You see the doctors and nurses doing all that they can for those they can do nothing to save. Takes a certain strength.” The first night, he showed me around the place. Where the cleaning supplies were kept, what standards were expected from us. It was at the end of the shift that he took me to one side. “You must never go in a patient’s room,” said Gordon, “No matter what they say, you never go inside. Leave that to the doctors and the nurses.” “Why?” I asked. “This place is the threshold,” said Gordon, “Where life crosses over to death. But the door is open. Sometimes…it feels like something crosses back from the other side.” I laughed but he was deadly serious. “Just take my word for it,” he said. “Don’t go in a room with a patient inside. Ever.” How I wish I had listened to Gordon now. It first happened two nights ago. I had been at the Lullaby Ward for about a year, so was feeling pretty confident. That shift, Gordon was unwell. Neither Jane or Mateusz could make it to cover, so I was on my own. Didn’t bother me. I could mop the corridors and clean the visiting rooms by myself. And if a patient passed away, I was happy to do the deep clean the room required to get it ready for the next unfortunate soul. It had just passed 3 a.m. when it happened. I was outside one of the patient rooms when I realised the door was open. I moved to close it and noticed the light was on. Lying on the bed was an elderly woman, her face wrinkled and gaunt. She looked up and saw me at the door and smiled. “Hello,” she said. “Sorry miss,” I said, “Just cleaning the hallway. Hope I didn’t wake you.” The woman laughed, a very weak, dry laugh. “I haven’t slept for days now. What’s a nice young man like you doing as a cleaner?” It was my turn to laugh. “Just found what I’m good at I guess.” She smiled again and raised a frail hand to gesture me inside. “Come talk to me. Just for a little while.” I hesitated for a moment. Not because of what Gordon had said, those words weren’t on my mind at the time. I was just thinking about all the extra work I had to get done. In the end I thought, ‘You haven’t had a break yet. Why not stop here a while?’ I put my mop and bucket to one side and entered the room. It was the first time I had been inside a patient’s room while they were alive. I was surprised at how normal it felt. Just like any other hospital room. Of course she looked old and was close to the end, but she had a warmth to her that outshone the beeping of the machines keeping her alive. “Yours is the first strange face I’ve seen in a while,” she said. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Everyone else is a relative or one of the doctors. I’m used to them all. It’s good to see something new, even now. Wouldn’t you say?” “I guess so,” I replied. I sat down in a chair close to the bed and we talked for a while. She asked me about my life, what I was getting up to. Joked about my lack of a partner, scolded me for my lack of ambition in my job. All light-hearted and good-natured. It was refreshing. After all the doom and gloom that Gordon had warned me about, this felt like the opposite. I realised I had spent a good twenty minutes chatting. “Have to get back to work. Sorry,” I said. Her smile faded into a sadness I had not seen in a long time. “Hope it goes well.” “I’ll come back tomorrow?” I said, cheerfully. She shook her head. “I might not be here then.” Her words hit me hard. I didn’t know what to do. Stay here or get back to work. What she said next made up my mind for me. The woman suddenly shook violently in the bed before going suddenly stiff. Her arms and legs pushed out from her body. I was about to hit the big red emergency button that would send all the doctors running to her, when she spoke. “….D…..Donn…..” At first I didn’t quite hear what she said. So she repeated. “Don….Donnie.” My blood ran cold. No one had called me that for seventeen years. I backed away to the door. The woman’s eyes followed me. “He’s coming.” Her body relaxed suddenly, setting off alarms from the machines beside the bed. I ducked out the door and into the hallway. Seconds later, doctors and nurses were rushing towards the room. I made as if I had been cleaning the whole time. I waited around, mopping the same few tiles of linoleum until the doctors left. The woman had passed. But her words lingered in my mind. I told myself I was tired or had misheard. But I knew what had been said. The next night, it was just me and Jane. I was glad that there was someone else there. Not that we would be working in the same place at the same time. Having her nearby meant that I couldn’t stop, I had to focus on work. If I wanted to have a break, I could chat with Jane. Things didn’t work out that way. I was cleaning the hallway and found myself outside the old woman’s room from the night before. It had already been occupied by a new patient. I looked at the name written in marker on the whiteboard sign. “Isaac.” My heart jolted in my chest. Surely it must have been some sort of coincidence. First what the woman said, now this. I had to take a look inside. What was I expecting? My twin brother to be lying in there waiting for me? No, of course not. But there had to be something behind the coincidence, some logic. I opened the door slowly. My hand trembled slightly on the handle. I told myself I was being ridiculous. But then again, so was the situation. Inside the room was dark, save for the screen of a heart monitor that showed the patient’s vital signs. I could make out someone lying in the bed. In the dark, they sort of looked familiar. Somehow recognisable despite having the faintest outline of a figure. I walked closer, moving as silently as I could. I didn’t want to wake whoever it was. I reached the foot of the bed and breathed a sigh of relief. It was an old man, his bald head seemed to shine in the dark as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. His breathing was laboured, battling for every lungful of air. His eyes were open but they had a blank expression. Staring into space. I looked at the heart monitor and saw the name written on the screen. Edwin Isaacs. I almost laughed. His last name was Isaacs. Someone must have missed the ‘s’ on the whiteboard. Relieved and slightly ashamed at how jumpy I had been I turned and made my way back to the door. That’s when he woke up. “Who’s there? Who are you?” The man sat up in the bed and stared into the dark. “I know you’re there. Show yourself.” “I’m sorry sir,” I said, “I’m just a cleaner.” “What are you doing in here? Leave me be.” “I was just leaving.” “No!” the old man shouted, “I won’t do it. I won’t help you.” “I don’t need your help, I’ll leave you in peace.” The old man turned his head. But he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking past me. I slowly turned around to see what he was looking at. Nothing. Just the empty room. I turned back in time to see the man throw himself at me. He was small and frail yet the impact sent me flying backwards. “What are you doing?” I yelled. The old man didn’t say anything, he was trying to get a grip on me. We spun around together in a twisted dance. I managed to push him back towards the bed, but he was up again, standing on the edge. There was something maniacal about him that radiated through his body. His frail, veiny arms stretched unnaturally. His neck stretched up too, I could hear bones breaking as it did. “I’ve waited so long for this,” the old man said. He sprung forward again. This time he caught me in the chest and sent me onto my back. “Let go of me!” I shrieked, my voice becoming hoarse from the shock and the fear. “Donnie...it’s my turn.” The old man’s neck suddenly snapped to one side. Ninety degrees. A horrible angle that I instantly recognised. “Isaac?” I gasped. The old man’s face contorted. “You’ve had seventeen years. Good, long years. Now it’s my turn.“ I somehow managed to push the man off me. He rolled back on the linoleum floor, his head hanging horribly on the end of his broken neck. “Don’t be selfish. We can share. Let me share. We are the same. We can be the same. Two now one. If you let me come back.” “You’re dead!” I yelled. “But I’ve been waiting. On the other side of the door. You opened it. Let me come back through.” The old man pushed his body off the ground and turned so his grotesquely hanging head was swaying towards me. His arms and legs seemed to grow again, being stretched by some unseen force. They suddenly swung towards me, clawing out at me like tentacles. “Please,” he begged, “Please let me come back.” He lunged suddenly towards me. I dodged one attack, only to feel his hand clamp around my ankle. The old man pulled me towards me. I could see his eyes were burning bright now. Like a light had been turned on behind them. A horrible light that hinted at something beyond my comprehension. I managed to shake free and slide towards the door. But the old man lunged again, this time throwing his whole body at me. I had no choice but to lift my leg up in defence. I caught his head in a horrible kick, sending it snapping back. The old man twisted in mid-air – just like Isaac had done all those years ago – before landing flat on the floor. He became still. Deathly still. I didn’t wait around to see what would happen next. I got up and ran, out of the room, out of the ward, towards the nearest emergency exit. I didn’t stop until I was far away from the hospital, my lungs burning in pain from the panicked escape. What the fuck had just happened? I’ve managed to calm myself down now. I don’t know whether the old man is alive or dead. Whether I imagined it or not. It wasn’t until Gordon text me that I truly believed that it was all real. That I wasn’t a madman. “Now you know about the threshold. I hope you closed the door.” And now, as I sit in my apartment, with the lights switched on, I don’t know if I have. I’m tired, my body wants to sleep. But I’m scared of what waits for me. I’m away from the ward. I can find a new job. But…but my reflection. Something has changed about it. What if the door is open? And what if Isaac comes back? I don’t want to share. But I may not have a choice.

Scarecrow Blood

xsx8ul

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xsx8ul/scarecrow_blood/

“Daddy… do scarecrows bleed?” I was lost in thought driving to drop off my six year old daughter Angelia to her mom’s for the week when she blurted out that show stopping question. “Hmm? What? What do you mean sweetie?” I asked, glancing back at her as your she daydreamed out the window. “I saw one in that field. It looked all icky and weird. And covered in blood,” she said, her voice a mixture of fright and concern. I looked at the side mirror toward the cornfields we were passing by and nodded absently. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It won’t hurt you,” I told her. I should have paid attention but my mind was on this separation. I knew Marcie wanted a divorce, and I knew there wasn’t much left for me to do to stop it. Getting a lawyer, trying to juggle two minimum wage jobs and handle a six year old was taxing enough so we agreed to week on week off for Angelia until we could settle on things that would be permanent going forward. Thankfully she was more concerned with her pet iguana and watching My Little Pony than the problems we were having, but her little comment about the scarecrow had me wondering if her worry was expressing itself in a different way. When we got there, I had forgotten almost entirely about the incident and focused instead on the new car parked in Marcie’s garage. It didn’t take me long to find it belonged to a new boyfriend, Todd who was “just leaving” as I gathered Angelia’s things. Had she deliberately made sure that he lingered just long enough to cement the idea in my head that we were over? “Took you long enough. Did you get lost?” she said as she got up from the porch swing. “There was construction. You don’t need to jump down my throat,” I muttered as I watched Todd drive off. “I see you didn’t waste any time.” I was baiting her for an argument but it didn’t work. Marcie said she was tired and needed to rest for her next shift at the hospital so I gave Angelia a hug and drove back toward home. I had to speed a little just to make it to work, my mind drifting to her inquiry about the scarecrow as I passed the cornfields. Maybe it was some prank. It was almost Halloween. Kids do crazy things. Or maybe she dreamed it up. Truth be told, I didn’t really give it a second thought. But then again, I haven’t been giving much of anything a second thought lately. It’s crazy that even though Marcie is in the same town it now feels like we are worlds apart. But that’s what happens when something comes between you and your partner, I guess. Although I wasn’t sure I could even call Marcie that anymore. That night, on my way home from my second job, she called in a fluster. “What have you been letting Angelia watch on her tablet?” “Hmm? What’s wrong?” I could tell her tone of voice was mostly irritation but there was an underlying level of worry there. Something was wrong. “She woke up screaming and crying and said a bloody scarecrow was outside the house,” Marcie snapped. I felt a strange chill run down my spine. “I’m sorry… I should have said something earlier. She said she saw it in the cornfields on her way to your house… Jesus Marcie… I didn’t even know it was a problem, just thought it was her weird imagination,” I admitted. “Well you need to fix this, she won’t listen to me.” I heard a soft rustling noise and a moment later my daughter’s whimper on the other end of the line. “Hey baby. Can’t sleep huh? You had a bad dream?” I asked softly as I drove down the dark roads. “No it wasn’t a dream… It was in the backyard. I saw it daddy and it was mad at me!” she said between sobs. “Is it there now? Maybe it went away?” I asked, calmly trying to reason with her. She paused, apparently thinking about it. “What if it comes back?” she whispered. “Well, I’m sure your mom will make sure it doesn’t… but even if it does… maybe the scarecrow is lonely? Maybe it just wants a friend?” I was hoping that by making her supposed monster sound nice it would lessen the issue. But the plan seemed to backfire immediately as she cried. “But daddy it was covered in blood so much!!” “Okay, okay calm down. Maybe it got hurt? Maybe it needs help? I’m sure it’s not going to hurt you baby. I’m sure everything will be fine. Your mom is there, and nothing can get to you,” I told her. “You… you promise?” she asked. “I promise. Now I want you to be a big girl and go to sleep okay?” I told her. She promised she would and passed the phone back to her mom who did not offer a complimentary thank you. I sighed, wishing that whatever dreams my daughter had that night were good and hung up the phone so I could focus on driving. I was almost at the fields where she had claimed to see the scarecrow and I slowed down just a bit to see if I could spot anything amid the corn. I felt a little silly doing it, trying to rationalize the hyper imagination of a six year old as I looked out toward one field and saw the familiar silhouette of a scarecrow. Even from this angle I had to admit that it did look… strange. Rather tall and weirdly dressed even for a mannequin. Was there really blood on its clothes or were my eyes playing tricks with me? At the same time I heard a loud noise and looked up just in the nick of time to see that I had let the car drift into oncoming traffic. Immediately I jerked the wheel back to my lane, my heart going a million miles an hour as I pulled over and slammed on the brakes. I sat there gripping my steering wheel for a second as I realized that I had come inches from meeting my maker just because I wanted to get a good look at a damned puppet in the middle of a field. Recomposing myself, I let out a breath and drove home, convinced that I was just being an overprotective parent and my daughter was letting the separation get to her in her own weird way. It would be great if I could end it right there and say that I was right about everything and we all lived happily ever after wouldn’t it? The next day, I got a text with a picture attached. Angelia had drawn the scarecrow at school and her teacher, concerned, forwarded it to Marcie. “Explain” the caption from my soon to be ex wife said as I stared at the picture. The childish drawing was black and red and dripping little bits of blood on the ground, a long stream of red crayon squiggling over to a cartoonish rendition of Angelia herself. She looked happy but behind her I saw what I guessed was two stick figures meant to be me and Marcie, both of us sad and lying sideways like we were under the ground. I sighed and stopped by her after school dance class to get a better understanding. Apparently it was my fault this was happening, since I had put the idea in her head the scarecrow was friendly. “What does the picture mean?” I asked her as she took a break. “Oh you saw it? You were right daddy the scarecrow was lonely. But now we are connected,” she said. “What do you mean sweetie?” “I don’t know. I can just feel it,” she replied in a sing-song voice. “Well I guess that’s good, but why are me and mommy sad in the picture?” I asked. “Oh that’s mommy and Todd. Not you. Daddy you are silly you know you are taller than Todd,” she said with a giggle. I focused still on the fact that they were frowning and her answer gave me some clue about her state of mind. “The scarecrow doesn’t like them, so I can’t be with them, that’s why they look sad,” she told me. It was a childish explanation but I told myself it meant that she longed to be with me rather than Marcie. That night I tried to reason with my wife about it, “You work so much and Angelia isn’t getting the attention she needs when she is here.” Poor choice of words because that just fired her up. “I can handle things just fine. You’re the problem here, David. You’re sticking these weird ideas into her head and making her scared of everything. I swear to god once I get a good lawyer, you will never get to see her again.” That really hurt to here my wife lash out at me that way. I knew this was hard on her, and I knew I was an easy target and this time I didn’t let it go any further and left. Maybe she was right and this was my fault. I was the one that couldn’t keep our family together. Couldn’t make ends meet and couldn’t live up to the promises of our commitment. I wasn’t a good husband and definitely not a great father but damn it I was trying. Maybe too hard. Maybe that was the problem? I didn’t know and I was too tired for another argument so I let it go that time. The next morning, things escalated even further and I was woken from bed with repeated calls from Marcie. “Jesus, this better be an emergency you know I worked late…” I muttered. “Please for the love of God David tell me this isn’t your idea of a sick joke,” she said. I was awake immediately when I heard the distress and panic in her voice. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?” I asked. “That damned scarecrow Angelia has been harping about. It’s in the backyard.” That tingling sensation of impending doom flooded me again. “I’ll be right over.” I hung up, grabbed some fresh clothes and drove to her house. When I got there she was on the front porch smoking and I gave her an odd look. “Don’t start with me. You better be glad I didn’t call the police on your ass. I want that thing dismantled and out of my yard this second!” she snapped. “Wait a minute hold up, you aren’t making sense. First off it would be impossible for me to do anything like that. I was at work. And your backyard is locked, besides you’re not exactly a heavy sleeper,” I said as I followed her through the house to the glass sliding doors that connected to the fenced in yard. I was hoping my logic would provide some sense of control to the situation, but when I looked out toward the grass and saw the thing, all of it felt meaningless. The thing stood about eight feet tall, lopsided and made of decaying wood with tattered clothes that were clearly drenched in blood. I had no idea it would look so ghastly. Immediately I pulled my cell phone out and Marcie asked, “What are you doing?” “What do you think I’m doing? I’m calling the police. Someone is clearly playing a sick prank on us.” “Shit. So it wasn’t you,” she said, her voice quivering. “Dear god no, I may not like this any more than you but I’m not going to play mind games like this,” I said as I dialed. “Angelia didn’t see it did she?” “No I got her on the school bus before I discovered it.” “Thank goodness. She doesn’t need any more nightmares,” I said. I made a quick report and gave the dispatcher my wife’s address before turning to her with a fresh idea. “Listen, this place is going to transform into a crime scene for a while. Maybe it would be a good idea for Angelia to stay at my place tonight?” Marcie looked like she wanted to argue but seemed defeated and nodded in agreement. I kept staring at the scarecrow, disturbed by its jagged body and wondering just who’s blood had been used to give it such a grisly appearance. I went to work, trying to put the issue out of my mind and picked up Angelia around 2. She was thrilled to get out of school early and I treated her to ice cream. It made everything seem right to see her smile even though I wasn’t sure what was happening. That night, I tucked her in with a bedtime story and tried to not fret over the bizarre situation at Marcie’s. As i was about to drift to sleep, Angelia screamed and I jolted to her bedside. She was pointing at the window where the sliding panel had pushed up and the curtains fluttered in the wind. Had someone tried to break in? Was that what this whole thing was? Instead as I approached the window I saw a dark silhouette in my own backyard. The scarecrow had moved here. As I stared at it I slowly closed the window and pulled the curtains close, my voice shaky as I reassured Angelia everything was fine. Once she had drifted to sleep I grabbed my gun from my safe and stepped out on my back porch, confronting the thing. As it stood there only a few meters away, I could sense an otherworldly presence. I knew it’s arrival here tossed out any logical explanation for this. I was clearly dealing with an evil spirit of some kind. Despite the fact that my mind came to this conclusion I still thought my gun would protect me and I raised it toward the scarecrow, demanding answers. “What do you want from us? You aren’t going to hurt my daughter, so you hear me?” Of course the bloody thing didn’t respond and that only infuriated me more. I fired a warning shot, yelling at the apparition. “I know you’re listening! You need to leave us alone!” A moment later I heard a loud knock at my front door. Cautiously I approached with the firearm and opened it, not sure what to expect. seeing two dressed police officers there would have been my last guess. “David Westin?” they asked, scanning me up and down and probably thinking I looked like a mad man. “There’s been a homicide at your wife’s residence. We need to bring you in for questioning.” My mouth was dry. “What. That’s not possible. What happened?” I asked. “Sir, put the gun down. We can answer questions at the station,” the first office said. She was reaching for her taser. Immediately I dropped the firearm, begging for them to listen. “I called the police hours ago to go investigate an issue at her house. Are you telling me… are you telling me my wife is dead??” I shouted. Behind me I heard Angelia made a soft whimper from her room. “Daddy… I had a bad dream. What’s going on?” “Sir. Your daughter is going to remain in police custody while you come down to the station answer a few questions,” the second officer said. It was clear the discussion was over for the moment and I kindly told Angelia to gather her things for a trip. I was staring out at the backyard, fully aware the scarecrow was now gone again. It had come here to let us know it’s work was done, I thought as I drew the connection to Angelia’s drawing. Once she was out of earshot I asked the officers, “Did you find two bodies?” “Are you admitting that you are aware of something related to the case, Mister Westin?” “Just tell me please. Was my wife alone or not?” The officer saw something in my eyes to trust me. “No. There were two bodies. Blood everywhere. They looked like they were pulled apart, limb by limb,” he admitted. That ended the conversation until we arrived at the station where they fingerprinted me and got a blood sample. I was numb to all of it. I didn’t want my wife dead, sure I hated the fact that we were going our separate ways. But this was beyond my resentment. The scarecrow had caused this, why I didn’t know nor was I sure if it would now leave us alone. I answered the officers questions as best as I could until they told me I was free to go. When I did end the questioning I asked them if they found anything unusual in the backyard. “Was there a scarecrow?” I asked. Their confused faces told me the answer was no. On the way home, I apologized to Angelia for everything and sat her down on the edge of her bed to explain about Marcie. Before I could get the words out, she said, “Mommy is gone you know. So is Todd.” “You know?” I asked. “I saw it in the scarecrow’s dreams. It was a horrible dream.” “You woke up screaming… Angelia please, what else did the scarecrow show you.” “Nothing really. Just a bunch of black birds over us every night. They have been following us. I think they will report to him.” “Report what?” “If you’re taking care of me or not,” she said simply. Again that odd moment of unease fell over my body. “Because you’re connected and you felt mommy wasn’t being fair to you.” “Yep. And now she’s gone. You were right daddy, the scarecrow does want to help me.” The implications terrified me. “Daddy can we stop for ice cream?” she asked sweetly. I was looking toward the fields. The silhouette of the bleeding scarecrow watching me every time my eyes cast that way. “Sure sweetie,” I said through gritted teeth. “Anything you want.” [330](https://www.reddit.com/r/KyleHarrisonwrites/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app)

The strangest Youtuber apology video you'll ever come across.

xt7t2m

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xt7t2m/the_strangest_youtuber_apology_video_youll_ever/

If there’s one thing I can't stand, it’s these drama videos that pop up time and time again on youtube. I swear I have zero interest in these things but the algorithm refuses to release me from its grips. It’s hard to avoid these days as any channel is likely to talk about some drama going on. God, I've seen channels that devote their content to reviews of old nickelodeon shows speaking out on drama in the super smash brothers community. I just want to hear your thoughts and opinions on The Angry Beavers, I’m not here for this. From streamers to beauty blogs, there is no more surefire way to boost your views than to stir the pot and get your opinion out there. The worst example of all this? These stupid apology videos will show up, usually a capstone to the aforementioned drama. A half-hearted attempt to aside all the previous allegations. It’s always the same crap though. Sitting on the floor, because if you look too comfortable, no one will believe that you're sad. Oh, and you should smudge your make-up some too! That way people know you’ve been crying. Don’t forget to start the video with a heavy sigh so it’s clear how much this has all been weighing on your chest. Now spew the most formulaic and buzzword-filled nonsense that you can and wait a month until your fans forget all about it. Congratulations, you’re a good person again! Every time I see one of these videos, the person in the thumbnail wearing an oversized gray sweater with their finger wiping away tears, I feel myself gagging. I’m not perfect, I'll admit to clicking on some of these drama videos. I still hate it, but when it involves a creator that you religiously watch, then hey… I'm human too! Maybe that’s how I got shoved into this. There was this illustrator that I was a really big fan of. Their art was creepy and so stylized and they started to make videos showing their creative process and I ate them up. Great background noise whenever I was working on something. So I watched all these videos and one day I saw all this news come out about them. Suffice it to say, none of it was good. Turns out it doesn’t matter how creative and talented you are, you can still be a massive mountain of garbage. Eventually, they came out with an apology video. I was enticed and I clicked on it, part of me just wanted to see their face as they had never shown it before. It was tragically predictable. I swear I could see him reading off of a script that was just off camera. I don’t watch that channel anymore, the evidence was pretty damning. Parasocial relationships, am I right? This is what likely brought the video into my suggested feed. I was lying in bed bored one night and was just shuffling through video apps trying to find something to watch. As one does. The things I was seeing on youtube just weren’t pulling me in, I wasn’t feeling in the mood to consume anything. I first saw it there. The video is titled “I’m realy sorry”. The thumbnail showed a man with a blanket wrapped around him, his hand lifted, scratching the side of his head. I rolled my eyes at the typo and the low-quality image. Just another sad sap thrown in the mix. But for one reason or another, what caught my attention was the view count. The video sitting in my suggestions had only 14 views. Something primal activated in my brain. A schoolyard desire to get all the hottest gossip. With a view count so small it seemed like I stumbled upon something very… personal. I had to know. With nothing but good intentions in my heart, I clicked the video. An ad began playing, giving me enough time to see that the channel only had 2 subscribers and only a handful of other videos. The channel was called “DiabolicMuffinTop”, I don't know. The soap ad ended and my eyes levitated back to the video. It was grainy, clearly recorded with one of those dollar-store webcams. There was an intense buzzing that seemed to be caused by the microphone that was likely bought in the same store. The man from the thumbnail stared into the camera, his face being broken up by fidgety pixels. He had one of those faces, where it’s hard to tell if they’re 20 or fifty. His skin was tan, or the lighting made it look that way. His head was shaved. As he sat on the floor trying to get comfortable I watched the white stained straps of his wife beater. The room around him was particularly nondescript, outside of it looking like a small dorm room with next to no visible furniture. He finally pulled a blanket off-screen and wrapped himself in it. Slowly the fuzz died off as he reached down and pulled the microphone off the beige carpet floor. I cannot tell you how enthralled I was at this point. It was so mundane and vague, I felt like I was in on a secret. This room, this man; could be anywhere in the world. Microphone hanging mere inches from his lips he began to speak. His voice was full of gravel like he hadn’t slept in a few days. When his voice got to me I could see his eyes looked heavy as well, the way he was hunched like it was a struggle to sit upright. It sounded generic at first, what he was saying. He repeated lines I heard before. Things like. “It was a stupid mistake.” “I want to be better.” “I hope I can grow from this.” These words felt a little strange to listen to given that I didn't know what the man was apologizing for. Though as he talked, maybe just because of how exhausted he looked, it started to feel genuine. My excitement turned to a sense of guilt like I shouldn't be watching. I didn’t leave though, the timeline kept moving on. I watched tears form in his eyes as his words got shaky. “I wish I could take it all back… I miss all of you.” There was a moment of silence and suddenly he stood up, a few minutes passed with him just standing in front of the camera. Within that time I had found myself leaning in, inspecting the footage and the room. Initially, I assumed it to just be an artifact caused by the poor image quality but the more the pixels shifted, the more it became clear that it was something else. On the wall behind the guy were shadows. They were soft and hard to make out with the amber lighting of the room, but there were shadows. The screen went black and the video ended. That wasn’t satisfying, not nearly enough for me to have backed out then and there. No, he had other videos, not many but maybe there were some answers in them. Or at least something I could hang my hat on. Clicking on his profile I navigated to his videos and found that “I’m rely sorry” was the first one he uploaded. The next one was titled “Peeky.” Though my eye was drawn to his most recent video titled “I’m sorry PT2”. I felt it would be a disservice to jump right to it though. Like I was ruining the suspense for myself or something. I don’t know, it’s as I said. I was very bored. So I clicked on “Peeky”. It was an eye. Just a close shot of a blue eye, took me a while to even make out what I was looking at. I only recognized it as such when an eyelid obstructed the camera for a moment before being pried apart. It was an eye alright but… well there was a camera light illuminating it. The light kind of came and went, shining on the eye and then retreating. It was off-putting because as far as I could tell, the pupil never dilated and I remember thinking that maybe the quality wasn’t good enough to show it. But I don't think it ever dilates. And when I say the eyelid was pried open I mean, someone's fingers had spread them forcing the eye to stay open. The video was only 47 seconds long and that’s all it really was, the eye didn’t even move. It looked glossed over and unnatural like a prop. Going back to the previous video I leaned in and tried to get a look at the guy’s eyes. It was hard to make out but if his eyes were that blue surely I would’ve noticed. Another video showed him lying in his bed. This one was titled “goodnight”. The room was dim. There was this sense of light. Not like moonlight was reaching the room but there was a natural illumination about it; a haze of sorts. His head was tilted towards the ceiling and I don't know how I could tell but he was awake. A feeling I guess. This video was long and the audio was rough but I could hear something in the background. Not in the room, it was muffled. A dragging, it sounded like someone moving furniture around. A large wooden dresser being pushed across the carpet comes to mind. Then the door to his bedroom began to creak open and my suspicion about him being awake was confirmed. As soon as the light from the hallway crept in he scattered like a bug to his headboard. I could see the clump of pixels around him beginning to vibrate, he wrapped his arms around himself and started to shake. The sound cut in and out but he was whimpering like a punished dog. Whoever opened the door just stood there. The arm holding the door remained still, just a dark spot. Pausing the video I couldn't help but think to myself that the arm was at such a strange angle. Like the person was as tall as the ceiling. Within a few minutes, the figure starts to enter I think and the YouTuber starts to howl, like really yell, noise complaint-worthy stuff. I was right again, whatever was peeking in was so tall, its head entered first as it had to bend over to get in. A head that was not… not the shape that people’s heads are. It looked like chunks had been taken out of it at a jagged angle. I don't know how to describe it. Either it had a crazy helmet on or that thing wasn’t- normal? It leaned in further and reeled its \`\`Head” back in jittering motions almost like it was smelling the air. The guy backed up on the bed more, it looked like he was trying to push his way through the wall as he could just crack through it. The static caused by the picture quality almost seemed to warp around the figure leaning in the door, like it was trying to avoid touching the thing. Just as I began to feel my stomach churning, the figure started to rotate its head and look towards the camera, small pin-prick blue lights beamed out from the front of its face, and then that video ended. I sat there for a moment, collecting my thoughts and after watching that video again I couldn't help but feel nervous. To clear the air. I’m no stranger to the weird things people create online. Things like ARGs and narrative-driven series. The possibility of this all just being something the cameraman created crossed my mind. This thought, however, felt more defensive than anything. With saliva pooling in my mouth and sweat forming under my fingertips, it was like I was finding something safe to explain it. The more I thought about the video and its contents the more unnerving it became and the more I needed to see the other videos. The next one was called “Outside” and it started with the cameraman sitting on the floor like the apology video. Like the apology video as well the man offered his sorrows, stating that he didn’t mean for any of it to happen. That he just “Wants to leave”. The lighting was exactly the same as in the first video, with not a spec of natural sunlight to be found. He leaned forward and grabbed the camera. I paused the video when he leaned in to get a better look. While his face was still rather blurry, I could see darker lines of flesh on him, something you’d expect to see when deep gashes finally heal over. There wasn’t enough quality to definitely make out what I was looking at though. Unpausing he lifted the camera and carried it to the door. His hand trembled as he placed his fingers on the knob. The view shifted for a moment. I watched this part a few times to try and make out what he was doing, I think- putting his ear up to the door but I don’t know. All I know is his breathing was horribly erratic. It almost frustrated me listening to the man breathing directly into the camera's toaster-quality microphone. Made my heart start racing in ways I wasn't comfortable with. He must have been satisfied with his prodding as he pulled the camera back and turned the handle. A hallway was revealed on the other side. Same canvas brown wall and dim lighting as his room had. He stepped out into the hall and panned the camera around showing me, absolutely nothing. There was maybe a ten or fifteen feet stretch of the hall on either side, it's hard to define distance on video. At the end of the hallways was just a blank wall. No pictures or other doors to be seen, hell there wasn’t even any molding, just the brown walls, and browner carpet. The camera focussed on his hand as it ran along the hallway’s walls, just a flat surface with not so much as a seam. Every bit of the hall was the same, not a hint of escape to be seen, he was closed in. His hand shook the whole time making the flecks of static drift around like lightning bugs. After walking around the hall he wound back up at his door and pointed the camera at the end of the hall. Static from the footage started swirling like a snow storm and from the flat wall, I could see an outline forming. It looked like a pipe had burst behind the wall and started soaking the wood causing a dark spot. This spot became more and more black until it looked like an inky mess. The camera… it was like the poor quality didn’t dare enter that darkness, I could see it so clear compared to the rest of the hall. It looked as if that darkness stretched on further than the confines of the hallway and from that stretch, fingers laced on the edge. The camera shook as the man contemplated how long he could risk being in the hall. The creature from before started climbing out. It wasn’t the quality of the video that made the thing look so undefined and inhuman, that’s just how it was. Those bright blue beads on its head peered out from the dark spot. My breathing was matching his at this point, felt like the thing was looking at me like it could see me. I was about to scream at the man to get back in his room and as the monster crawled from the pits beyond the hallway, the video cut out and ended. The way it all looked, the way it made me feel. Shifting in my seat I could sense the cool air pressing on the beads of sweat running down my forehead. There were only two videos left though. I couldn’t just not watch them right? The penultimate video. I can’t exactly describe how it made me feel. There was an air of triumph, I think. It was just the guy sitting on the edge of the bed with his head lowered and crumbling at his feet was the monster. It was motionless and I could see that the man’s hands were covered in red. He was staring at his own hands, repeating something I couldn't quite make out. I watched, expecting the monster to move again, for something to happen, but even those pin-prick lights failed to shine. The longer the video went on the more the static started to cover the creature as if it was no longer afraid of it. And the more static that covered the creature’s frame the more it looked like- Its limbs became shorter and its head started to shrink and smooth out. The whole time this monster collapsed in on itself to look more and more human all the man did was stare at the mess on his hands. Raising his hands he pulled his fingers down across his face, digging his fingernails through his flesh, re-opening those scars I had noticed earlier. When he did this, it was faint but the static started to drift away from him, showing his face a little clearer. He looked into the camera, got up to walk over, and turned it off. He was angry and frustrated. Eyes narrowed peering through thin rivers of red. Last video. “I’m sorry PT2”. He must have set up and turned the camera on minutes after the last video ended. He sat in front of the camera just like he did for the first video, his face was still slick with fresh blood, and he was looking more monster than a man. Speaking of which, the creature that was slumped against the bed had been moved, somewhere out of frame. He began speaking. Tell me, or the camera I suppose. That it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He meant for it to be simple, that he intended for no harm to come. He also said, with a laugh, that it was too late for all that thought. That he had crossed the line and he has to deal with his decisions. It was so strange, hearing all the jargon I had seen Youtubers use before to passively handwave their actions off. To hear him saying all this stuff in the context of what I had just seen. Heard him talk about how he wants to “Be better” and that all he needs is a chance to prove he can do it. What could he possibly have done to have wound up there? Did he deserve it? Was it a punishment? For all the apologizing he did, clearly, he did something that put him there right? I can’t wrap my head around it. Or anything I had seen involving his channel. I could only watch as he continued barfing out the same script I had heard from others. He stopped talking, mid-sentence and looked into the camera lens, the camera’s focus on him going in and out. God, it felt like he suddenly became aware of my existence, he could feel I was watching him. That look wrapped around my heart and squeezed, a pain in my chest and a churning in my abdomen. Fear blanketed me like cellophane. “This is the last time, I promise.” He said sullen and ethereal words that cut grooves into my ears. Reaching forward the man grabbed the camera and picked it up, standing up off the floor I could see the blanket drop from his shoulders. He was shirtless and his chest was littered with those scabbed-over scars that created pathways in the static. He was mangled, you’d have thought a pride of lions just finished throwing him away. “I’m sorry to all of you.” He whispered, something in his eyes. I could feel he had finalized on a choice, something he had been mulling over for quite some time. Slowly, very very slowly he started turning the camera around. It was here that I realized I had only seen one portion of his room, never what was beyond the camera. As it turned I wasn't surprised to see the walls were devoid of decoration, just the same spoiled milk color until the lens was met with a black mass. It was like a dense forest of thin trees. I struggled to make out what I was looking at. He started backing up offering more and more of the view in front of him. Bodies, I hate to cut to the chase but I don't know what else to say, they were bodies. All of them were so tightly packed together it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. Their frames were dark like the creature that came into his room. All of them hung from the ceiling like ornaments on a Christmas tree. They gently swayed bumping into each other, thick ropes strung around their necks to keep them suspended. They looked closer to people shaped than the monster that I had seen a few videos ago. But it didn’t stay that way. He kept the camera on this scene for a while. More than enough time for me to see that now and then their bodies would shift. They would begin to transform and crack back into the jagged and lengthy shape of the monster. Their bodies would rattle and moan as their skulls snapped and twisted into horrid silhouettes. There they would bounce around trying to be free of the noose. Every Time though, their body would go limp and give up before slowly reverting into the humanoid shape. It was a cycle, they would transform, struggle and revert. Brief moments of consciousness and a desperate fight for air only to die once again. 12 minutes of this. Seeing those blue eyes open and shut. I couldn't tell how big the room was or how many bodies total there were. It seemed like well over a dozen, all fighting for a little more space. After twelve minutes, from behind the camera, I heard “I’ll find a way to fix this.” And then the video just ends. I sat in my seat for a while, I felt like I couldn’t move. Or rather I didn't want to? Like if I moved it was confirmation somehow of everything I had seen and I just didn’t want time to move forward, I didn't want to come to grips with it. The sun had started peeking through my window at some point, I must have been sitting there for a few hours. I’d occasionally view the videos again, trying to find some kind of credits. Or even coded messages, anything to show me that what I witnessed was a fabrication. After enough clicking back and forth, searing the images of those videos in my mind, I'm only left with questions. A thousand “Whys” were implanted into my head. Ones I'm sure will never vacate. Now for the part, you’ll hate. Upon trying to revisit the user's page I'm only met with a deactivated account. I discovered this when it dawned on me that I should have somehow documented what I had seen. Funny how that works, now this is all I have of it. This written recounting of it. All the time it’s there, scratching at the back of my head. I’m trying to connect the dots where there are none. Just one meaningless question pulling to another. This is easily one of the most abusive parasocial relationships I have been pulled into. I keep an eye open. Maybe I'll see his face on my screen again and finally, I'll be able to get it out of my head. I’m always afraid I'm going to leave my room to find that it’s all gone, that I only have a hallway. That fear feels like it’s closing in. Maybe I'm paranoid. Though. My eyes are blue. Sorry, I don’t have more answers or information. I’ll try to do better.