Things That Go Bump In The Night: UB/CP Edition (Posting 4 Stories A Day)
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She's an angel, you know? Just beautiful. Not everyone agrees with me, of course, but that's okay. I still think she's beautiful. Her wide puppy dog-like eyes, her big white smile, her flowing brown hair, her slender, but still hourglass-like figure. She knows I love her; how could she not?
I tell that to her all the time, and kiss her all the more. She's such a trooper, doesn't even blush; just smiles. ? , I love her! She doesn't say much. She just looks back at me, smiling with that wide grin of hers. I know she likes me. I mean, how she looks back and just smiles, I know she does. I know, I mean she is shy, okay?
She doesn't say much, but she's still with me, that's proof there. She's never said a bad thing about me. She's always loyal, she never leaves, and she's always sitting there waiting patiently. She's always wanting to do things; I can see it in her eyes. And I smile to her, knowing exactly what she's thinking.
Even with all that happens, she knows how insecure I am. And she's so gracious, holding still as I pick her up, and making me feel far more masculine than I really am, letting me wrap her arms around me and carry her upstairs to the bedroom. I look down as I carry her, deep into her eyes; that pleading look in her big eyes, with her oh-so-sensuous smile. And I indulge her. How could I not for woman who loves me for all I am?
She makes me feel strong, not worthless like the rest of society. And we lay there. She lets me ramble on and on, she doesn't say much, only smiling, even at my stupid jokes, She's never mean, she never criticises me. Even if I pass out from such exertion during intimate things, or finish before she does, she never complains. She just smiles, reassuring me that she loves me anyway. When I wake up, she's always there, looking at me, greeting me with that broad smile. She lets me pick her up again, and I carry her downstairs, stopping on the sixth step to kiss her pale forehead.
Today is special. She'll be so happy I remembered!! The six month anniversary of when we met. But I don't let on. You gotta surprise the ladies, you know? I make breakfast: two omelettes with bacon bits, cheese, and a little bit of salsa - her favourite. Though, today she wasn't hungry, looking at me as if to say, "I have my figure to watch, you know." I protested for a bit, but she just stonewalled me. I felt bad, but I finished her breakfast for her. But as I polished off the last of the orange juice, I looked up, and there she was, smiling again.
Oh, my heart! We're going to the park today, where I met her. I know that she doesn't like going out much, but I figure she can bend given the occasion. Besides, she loves me and I love her. I'm more than happy to step a little out of the comfort zone. I walk her to the car and open the door for her, as I help her in her head turns to face me, her gaze meeting mine.
I kiss her passionately and say, "It's a good surprise. I promise. It's for you. I remembered today." She smiles back as I buckle her seatbelt and close the door. We head out an hour before noon. A quick twenty minute drive to the local forest park.
It was a cold day. Not cold enough to snow, though the ground was still blanketed white from two days ago. I parked the car and got out, walking around to open her door, unbuckle her, and help her out. She smiled as her head turned to face me. She lets me do everything for her; she knows that I love caring for her, and she makes herself feel so vulerable just so I can be the big macho boyfriend for her. I'm sorry, can I really say "I love her" too much? I place her hand in the crook of my arm and help her up, closing the door behind her. No one else is at the park it seems. I don't mind, and neither does she.
Today can be our special day, our special moment, just us two. I walk with her down the main trail, detouring off one of the branches in the path. Massive evergreens stretch toward the sky, so densely gathered that even the sparse needles and firs nearly create a canopy to rival a rain forest. I detour again, this time, off the path, she and I dodging the massive trunks as we weave amongst the titanic arbor.
I pause and look at her. She's looking ahead, unblinkingly at one tree, to whom anyone else would carry no significance. She was smiling. I turn to her and just uttered, "You remember it, too." I walked with her up to the tree, my eyes welling, overcome with a combination of love and nostalgia. Indeed, it was this tree, as there was a little clearing in front of it, a mere few feet by a mere few feet, just as I remember from six months ago.
I helped her down and we leaned against the giant Douglas Fir together. We sat a while, and I looked to her. I leaned over, turning her head to mine and kissed her.
"You remember it too, how I found you here...' I rubbed her pale forehead, and her teeth glistened in the sun. "How I found you, lying in the clearing, in that shallow grave..." I reached around her ribs and pulled her closer to me, carefully, ensuring not to tear the decayed tendons and ligaments that held her legs together. Kissing her pale bone forehead. I continued, "How I said 'Hello,' and you would just smile...' I stroked her hair, careful not to pull it from the little remaining skin on her head. I turned her head to face mine and gazed into her orbits. A bit of brain began to leak from the socket. "Oop! You got a little something there, love," I say as I take my hankerchief from my pocket. I wiped up the bit of ooze from the otherwise gleaming white cheek. I kissed her forehead and looked down at her. And in that moment, she was smiling.
And from then on, I knew that we would be together...forever.
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YOUR SECRET ADMIRER PT1
I’m writing to tell you... how I really feel. You probably didn’t notice, but for the longest time, I’ve always been there for you. I want you to know what I’ve done, and I hope by me... opening up to you like this, you will hopefully feel the same way for me.
And we can be happy together… forever.
I remember when we were both thirteen, when you first transferred to my school. As soon as you walked in, I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. When your tranquil blue eyes crossed mine, even though it was for a brief moment, as you scanned across the strange faces in the class, I knew I wanted to be with you... forever.
But I was heartbroken straight away, when you paired off by some other guy to show you around the school. You didn’t really notice me much; you were always with your group of friends who were so, so different to mine. Who am I kidding? I never really had any friends. The one thing that got me through all those years of loneliness was watching you, admiring everything you did. The way you gracefully went through your day without faults simply left me in awe day in and day out.
As the years went by, you seemed pretty popular with both the guys and the girls. You were sought after all the popular guys in the whole school, even by the older ones, but you shrugged them off. The girls loved how you looked after yourself, you always had your make-up and hair perfect. Which made you admired... but hated. It’s sad, but it’s human nature to get jealous, and we are all guilty of this crime. What they ended up doing however... was far out of line. I saw as they pushed you when the teachers weren’t looking. They would shove you into any nearby hard object, which, more often than not, was the wall.
When you stumbled and slammed into the wall, the teachers would simply turn and say, “Watch where you’re going, dear," and then go about their business, blissfully unaware of what actually happened.
Witnessing it happen every other day burned me up inside, seeing you have this torment for being better than them. It was painful to watch every time it happened.
I hoped it would die down, but it got worse.
I saw when the bullies would knock your drink over when you least expected it, just because the most popular guy asked you out. I was there when they set your bag on fire in the woodworks class because they thought you were condescending when you tried to help them with their work. And I caught glimpse of that one time when they actually threw you to the ground outside the school gates, and kicked you until you cried, simply because you tried to tell the teacher about what they were doing.
After that incident, they followed you home.
Usually, they wouldn’t do anything but yell abuse at you.
The worst part was that you’d never know when they snap and suddenly attack you when walking inches away from your back.
It tore me apart to see the girl I loved feel so... vulnerable.
I wanted to fix it.
What I knew was that there were three main bullies that were consistent. I knew more, but they seemed to do it out of peer pressure. The main culprit was that narcissistic ? , Bethany.
Beth... was simply jealous of everything about you. All the things I mentioned that made you great, burned her up inside. She used to be the center of attention.
And my ? , did she love it.
All the guys wanted to be with her.
All the girls wanted to BE her.
The only difference is that abused this attention for personal gain.
She slept with most of the guys who showered her in gifts or had their mommy and daddy to pay for everything. She only hung around with girls whom she deemed lower than her, and she did this so they wouldn’t be a threat to her “? complex." But slowly, over the years of you being in the school, she eventually lost her reputation. By then, all the attention was on you.
The second who had a disgruntled grudge against you was that ? , Chris. He asked you to the school’s annual dance in front of both his friends and yours, and you simply rejected him like many others. But what made his instance different was that he ran off crying, because he was publicly embarrassed.
In school, that meant a lot. He denied liking you and lost all his friends and reputation, so he took his frustrations out on who he thought had caused all of it: you.
The last person was Julie. She had it bad for you ever since the guy she liked always talked about how amazing you were, whilst not paying any attention to her.
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YOUR SECRET ADMIRER PT 2
Even after she preformed some... well, let’s say “desperate deeds,” for him.
During the last week of school, I knew they had something special planned for you. So I took it into my own hands to deal with it, because I love you, and I didn’t want your last few days at school to be ruined.
The first person I convinced to not mess with you anymore was Chris.
Now, he was much stronger than me, being into all the school sports.
Plus, the steroids meant that I wouldn’t be able to take him in a simple one-on-one fight.
But in the end, that would be his downfall.
I knew where he kept his steroids, it wasn’t hard to figure out since our school’s security and reputation was so low, there was no need in hiding it. I got his locker combination by simply saying I forgot mine, and the teacher gave me a list of everyone’s combinations. Yeah, that’s right. They have no sense of security in this school.
I cracked open his locker with ease, leaving no trace of it ever being opened. I found the next shot he was going to use and squirted a little bit out, then pulled the plunge back to where it was. Leaving a considerably sized air bubble, I figured Chris is no doctor, nor does he have any clue how everything works altogether. He just injects himself and trains in the school gym. I bought a pass for the gym and pretended to train, he eventually came into the gym laughing hysterically with his new “friends."
Enjoy it while you can, it's not going to last long, said a thought that crept up into my head.
He went to his locker, and not long after, he came out dressed in his training attire with a determined look on his face. He was ready to start.
He was fine for a while, but eventually slowed down. He had a puzzled look on his face as his body slowly gave up, and eventually... the cardiac arrest settled in, and he was on the floor. People tried CPR, but there was no defibrillator around, since it was a school filled with teenagers.
Who would expect a heart attack in a place like this?
I smiled, and walked out before the paramedics arrived.
It was already too late for him.
Working my way up the list, Julie was next.
She was always jealous of the way every guy liked you.
I silently slipped through her window without her noticing. I knew her parents were out, so if she made a noise, no one would immediately come to her aid. I pounced on her while she was sleeping, pinning her down. I tied her hands to the bedpost and then her legs. I pulled out several jars from my bag, each one almost black. Upon closer inspection, you would see small movement.
They were full of all the creepy crawlers that one would typically find in the bottom of anyone’s garden. I took my time filling these up with every insect I could find. I wanted her to understand all that pain you must’ve felt all that time she was shouting abuse at you, hurting you, making you feel lower than you really are.
I propped her mouth open with one of those plastic rings a dentist would use for a long procedure.
I slowly poured each jar down her throat.
Every time, her screaming was muffled a little more by the buzzing and scuttling noises the bugs made as they adjusted to their new home.
Tears streamed down her face as I repeated how all of this... was for you.
A few jars in and I could feel the bugs in her stomach, which was where I had been sitting the whole time. By this time, she had pretty much passed out from the pain.
When this happened, I’d wait, pour water on her face, and slap her until she responded. For punishment, I’d take off the ring from her mouth and pour water down her throat, making her swallow all the insects and causing them to go into a frenzy of panic.
Eventually, during the fifth jar, the pain of all the insects burrowing into her internal organs plus all the internal bleeding caused her to pass away.
But not peacefully, of course.
I saved the worst until last.
I had something special planned for Bethany.
She was by far the WORST to you.
She made your life a living hell.
And this was unacceptable.
No one as perfect as you should have ever had the displeasure of knowing these people, so I carefully set the pieces and waited.
One day, I got a head start.
I skipped the last class, but no one noticed. Not even the teacher. This shows how much I was noticed in school. By this time, I had memorized her route home and waited in an archway. I KNEW she walked past this area every time. I waited and thought about what I was going to do, and how it was all for you. Although, I didn’t have to think so much, because I already had it all planned out.
When I caught sight of her, I grabbed her, and pulled her to the ground. She was kicking and screaming, but in this point in her journey, no one was ever around. The archway led to an abandoned darrowlit church. I dragged her away from the path and to the building, so that no witness could intervene or find her body anytime soon.
I did my routine of securing her arms and legs to a post, so I knew there wouldn’t be that much of a struggle. After that, I gagged her, for I knew she’d make a lot of noise for what I was about to do.
I slowly pulled out my knife, making sure she caught sight of its shiny glimmer. I placed the point of it on her lower leg and smiled as she reacted to the sharp point of the blade. I slowly pushed down, making sure the wound was clean as it slowly slipped into her flesh. It took awhile, but eventually the knife’s handle was touching her skin. I took my time pulling it out, making sure the wound did not rupture with that easily recognized crimson liquid.
That would have meant her death, and that would be TOO easy. As soon as the type of the knife exited her body, I immediately wrapped the split up with a bandage, applying enough pressure to cut the bleeding down to a minimum. I then placed the knife a little higher up her leg, doing the same thing. I stared into her eyes, as she helplessly watched me do this over and over, all over her body. After every stab, I would say a remark about how you didn’t deserve what she did to you. Eventually, her whole body was nothing but red bandages. She was barely conscious as I slipped the final blow to her heart.
I can imagine you’re screaming about now.
In fact, I know you’ll be.
And I’ll be close enough to hear it.
And by you stopping, I know you’ve gotten this far into my letter, so I’ll start making my way in.
It’s pretty easy to get into your house after the first few times.
You probably thought it was your parents who left this note in your room in the first place.
No, it was me.
Don’t be afraid of the noise downstairs; it’s only me.
Put down the phone.
I know by now you’ve got it in your hand, but I’ve cut the phone line.
Don’t bother calling your parents, if you haven’t done so already. I’ve already silenced them.
You can stop your screaming now.
I am always right outside your door.
Unlock it now... and soon, it’ll just be you and me.
Together… forever.
Lots of love,
Your Secret Admirer. -
illestni99ainne wrote: »Bruh that clown ? is ? with me. Like clowns seriously freak me out. No such thing as sleep tonight lol
Bro if it makes you feel any better I was in McDonalds when I posted that story
An I didn't realize the irony of it till after I ate my food lol
? I speed walked up out that ? -
THE PERFECT BABY
He was the sweetest child in the world, there was no doubt about it. The moment he was born, people gathered around the nursery, pointing at his sleeping form and crooning. What gorgeous hair! What beautiful lips! What adorable chubby cheeks! Fathers ignored their own newborn children in favor of that tiny, perfect baby. Mothers toddled to the glass and pressed tired faces against it, crying for their poor fortune. How much better a life would be if that was their child!
The nurse that delivered him was amazed when she first held him in her arms. His skin was creamy and white, not that mottled pink every other baby sported. At first she thought he was dead, his eyes shut and his dark brown curls matted against his skull. As soon as she held him, however, she knew he was just fine. He opened his eyes and looked at her with all of the intelligence of an adult, breathing calmly and wrapping his tiny infant fingers around a loose strand of her thin blonde hair.
He never once cried, and his mother worried from her bed, sitting up and crying out at the nurse that so lovingly cradled her child, "My baby, what's wrong with him?" Her voice was weak and her eyes fluttered as she exhaustively fumbled at the bedsheets she was swaddled in.
The nurse glared at her over this perfect babe's head and snapped at the woman. There was nothing wrong with this child, and there would never be. Reluctantly, the nurse snipped the child's umbilical cord and set him gently in the nursery, lovingly kissing his head and promising that she would come back for him.
Late that night, the nurse quietly tiptoed back into the mother's room, a hospital-issued pillow clutched calmly in her hands. She smothered the mother silently and cleanly, with no one the wiser. The child would be hers no matter what she has to do for it. She would ? a thousand women to get her hands on that lovely little boy. Swiftly, she crept back into the nursery, bending over the tiny crib that held her angel. Crooning, she told the baby boy stories of how she would love him as he grew, and how well taken care of he would be.
The nurse didn't even hear the man sliding into the nursery behind her, a scalpel held firmly in his left hand. She didn't even feel the cold steel slide delicately around her slender throat; she didn't feel the two sides of her skin part cleanly when so gently coaxed by the clean blade, nor did she feel the slick gush of blood out of her throat as she happily died, her finger tips gently caressing the perfect child's gorgeous face—even in the last throes of death.
The man who had so proficiently murdered the nurse stepped over her dying body, a look of absolute adoration plastered on his face. Without a word, he picked the child up into his arms and stole out of the hospital. Behind him, every nurse and doctor in the maternity ward went insane looking for him.
It was a serene summer's night outside, warm enough for the man to carry the child back to his apartment, leaving his car and his very pregnant wife back at the hospital he had so deftly escaped from. When he arrived back at his apartment, he did not sleep. Instead he sat the tiny beautiful boy on his bed and watched him.
For fourteen days he watched the child, only moving to feed it and bathe it and give it all of the care it needed and more. The babe was the center of his universe. Soon, his wife came home, with a mouthful of angry words to toss at her neglectful husband and a tiny babe of her own to care for.
"You left me alone at a hospital to have a baby all on my own? Not a word from you. I thought you were dead, Adam!" She threw her purse ferociously at her husband, who had yet to even look at her. The baby in the stroller she had been so lovingly attentive to before opening the door was left back at the entrance to the apartment, the child inside it woken by its mother's piercing shrieks. When the mother walked up to kick the man she so suddenly and violently despised, she laid eyes on the most perfect child she has ever seen.
It was a tiny, glowing white child, with huge black eyes, and the most flawless dark curls on the face of the earth. Without hesitation, she leap toward her weakened, starved husband and choked the last bits of life out of him. Desperate to lay her lips against the child, watching as his face turned increasingly blue and frantic the tighter she pulled her longing fingers around his neck.
Moments later she was on the bed, wrapped as tightly around the darling babe as she should be without harming it. She drank in its warmth, ignoring the increasingly distressed cries of her own child. Soon, irritated beyond belief by her own incredibly flawed child's cries for affection, she took her aggressions out on it.
Leaping up from the bed as quickly as she could—not wanting to be away from the vision of beauty sleeping serenely on her bed for too long—she picked her child up with one hand, slamming it fiercely against the wall of the apartment until its head was a mashed mess of blood and bone and brain bubbling out, dirtying her hands.
The police came knocking on the apartment door not too much longer. Terrified by the vicious noise in the apartment beside them, the family next door had dialed 911, reporting domestic abuse. Cautiously, hands on the guns that rested at their hips, the two police entered the apartment. Upon entering, their noses were assaulted by several awful smells.
Rot, death, and the smell of someone who had been sitting in their own filth for two weeks wafted through the air of the stuffy apartment. It didn't take long for the officers to see the destruction that had occurred in this place, the gaunt dead husband dragged halfheartedly into the hallway, his hair matted with blood. The younger officer swayed on his feet, threatening to faint.
"Listen, Tredeau sir, I have a pregnant wife at home. I can't do this, I can't get killed in here," his plea was quiet and despondent, but the elder officer simple waved the man forward. They could hear cooing in the bedroom down the hall and, stepping over the dead man that lay at the entrance, entered the open door to the room. Immediately upon entering, the elder officer bent down and vomited, the scene that met his eyes too much for even someone as experienced as him to handle.
Blood was smeared on the wall where a dead baby—lying there, on the floor, its face a smashed mess—had been mercilessly beaten. On the bed was a chubby woman, obviously the woman who had born and murdered the baby. Cradled in her arms, pressed firmly against a swollen breast, was a naked, rotten baby, its skin blue and its mouth puffed up with death. She was whispering to it sweetly, the most contented look on her face.
The younger officer, however, was calm. It was clear what he must do. That woman held an angel, and he wanted it. Such a perfect child had never existed. The decision was easy to make. Pulling out his gun quickly, he shot the woman once in the head, delighting in the explosion of gorgeous crimson that fanned out behind her.
The younger man's companion turned, a look of confusion on his face. Immediately, he was met with two bullets to the left eye. Smiling, the younger man watched his friend slide back against the already bloodied wall behind him. That baby would be his, and no one would stop him from taking it now.
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Ay we can do with out the pictures, especially of an evil Ronald McDonald. Still good stories.
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Im one of those people who has really seen some ? . i know it, and its true. i know i wasnt sleep. i understand why now, because ive raised my level of consciousness, and ive never been nobodys christian or muslim.
I use to catch sleep paralysis really bad everytime i spent the night at my grandma's house. even when i had to live there for a while. thats when u wake up, and cant move, but u can see. they say u half way sleep and awake and thats the reason for the visions. but ? that. i would be awake, in bed, trying to fall asleep, and it woud happen.
it was scary for years, but then i started to get use to it and if i faked like i was screaming cuz i was scared, i would snap out of it.
But one time, i was in my own house. and i know i wasnt asleep. and i saw some ? that, if i thought about it 5 years ago, it would still give me chills. but now, i know whats up. in 2000, in my house, i woke up and seen this thing circling the room. it was yellowish orange. everytime it circled, it stopped, looked at me, and circled again. it wasnt wearing clothes. it wasnt a ghost. but it had eyes and a mouth. it looked scary, but what is scary? it looked how it looked. and there was a sound. like a high pitch sound that i could hear with each rotation.
Now, i know what it was. it was a spirit. it was chaos. it was energy. I was able to see it because i was born conscious. i never been into church. im not a walking dead black person. my pineal gland has always been open. i understand that now.
But as much ? as im talking now, im not welcoming that ? . i know how to bring it on, and im refusing it at all levels. i sleep with the tv and fan on. those electronics throws off the spiritual world. im not ready to face it.
ive been in bed and felt someone laying next to me, and it was a small ass twin size bed and it was floating. ive seen 3 images looking down on me once. ive seen ? . But now i know why.
Once i was smoking with this chick and we BOTH seen a lady float across her living room. yeah we was smoking weed, but she seen it too. i put my head behind her and said " ? this, i dont need to be seeing this, i cant take this ? right now.
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Ay we can do with out the pictures, especially of an evil Ronald McDonald. Still good stories.
Lol they make the stories more visual
But I'm thinking about posting stories on certain days
Like maybe only on weekdays
Since folks at work or school and it'll probably help they day go by faster
Or just 3days out the week instead of all random like I been doing -
Cool stories
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This ? and his long ass stories.
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Rozetta5tone wrote: »it sounds fun and adventurous to invite demons into your life until you realize you can't get rid of them.
Spirits ain't nothing to play with and just "dabbling" in magick can set off a course of actions that will leave you ? in the long-run.
Angels nor demons liked to be played with.
I know but I study it seriously
Everything I dabble in I know the ins and outs of
I study vodoo and all that
Pride comes before a fall, and a haughty spirit before destruction.
The enemy is hell-bent on taking you to his eternal place of torment. And he's got you hook, line, and sinker right now.
You keep playing with the Occult aka making your bed hard, you will have to lay in it. And this type of laying will be in eternal torment, where your worm does not die, nor does the smoke of your torment cease. Amen.
You don't practice witchcraft my friend. End of story. Your only escape from the snare you are in is the LORD Jesus Christ. You've got untold demon hordes on your behind because you have not only INVITED them in, but gave them acceptance through your "playing around" with the occult.
Repent RIGHT NOW and ask the LORD Jesus Christ to deliver you from the snare that you are in! This isn't a game my friend. What you are doing is insidious! You've gotten your self into a pile of doo-doo that stinks to high heaven! Please call on the name of the LORD Jesus Christ now, today! Don't hesitate before the demons you have invited in finally get permission to do you. Amen.
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Plus he been eating out ? stripper ? and buying them necklaces, wine and dining them and ? so he probably got ? ? spirits residing in his mouth as well.
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BangEm_Bart wrote: »Plus he been eating out ? stripper ? and buying them necklaces, wine and dining them and ? so he probably got ? ? spirits residing in his mouth as well.
The ghosts of herpes past. -
DoUwant2go2Heaven? wrote: »Rozetta5tone wrote: »it sounds fun and adventurous to invite demons into your life until you realize you can't get rid of them.
Spirits ain't nothing to play with and just "dabbling" in magick can set off a course of actions that will leave you ? in the long-run.
Angels nor demons liked to be played with.
I know but I study it seriously
Everything I dabble in I know the ins and outs of
I study vodoo and all that
Pride comes before a fall, and a haughty spirit before destruction.
The enemy is hell-bent on taking you to his eternal place of torment. And he's got you hook, line, and sinker right now.
You keep playing with the Occult aka making your bed hard, you will have to lay in it. And this type of laying will be in eternal torment, where your worm does not die, nor does the smoke of your torment cease. Amen.
You don't practice witchcraft my friend. End of story. Your only escape from the snare you are in is the LORD Jesus Christ. You've got untold demon hordes on your behind because you have not only INVITED them in, but gave them acceptance through your "playing around" with the occult.
Repent RIGHT NOW and ask the LORD Jesus Christ to deliver you from the snare that you are in! This isn't a game my friend. What you are doing is insidious! You've gotten your self into a pile of doo-doo that stinks to high heaven! Please call on the name of the LORD Jesus Christ now, today! Don't hesitate before the demons you have invited in finally get permission to do you. Amen.
@DoUwant2go2Heaven?
I would argue with you
About this topic but i cant sway overy religious people as yourself
Nor will i try to because your closed minded
I went through something traumatic when I was younger
That caused me to experience things
I'm not some fool with a curiosity to ? with the dead
The occult has to do with killings and blood sacrifices
What I do is child's play compared to the ? they try to summon into this world
I doubt you've ever looked into other things for yourself
so I don't expect you to know the difference between what I do and what the occult does
I'm sure you just read your bible and believe the one sided views the church tells you about certain topics and the worldBangEm_Bart wrote: »Plus he been eating out ? stripper ? and buying them necklaces, wine and dining them and ? so he probably got ? ? spirits residing in his mouth as well.
Lmao you ain't ? -
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Lol @ you having crackheads chase you down the block like...
Who is that in your avi?? -
ROBERT
In the late 1800s, Thomas Otto and his family moved in to a mansion at the corner of Eaton and Simonton streets in Key West, Florida now known as the Artist House. The Ottos were known to be stern with their servants, sometimes even mistreating them. It was the treatment of one such Haitian servant that provides a twist in this story.
This woman was hired to take care of their son, Robert. One day, Mrs. Otto supposedly witnessed her practicing black magic in their backyard and fired her.
Before she left, the woman gave Robert a lifelike doll which stood 3 feet tall, had buttons for eyes, human hair (believed to be Robert's), and was filled with straw.
Dolls that resembled children were not unheard of during this time, but this one proved to be special. Robert named the doll after himself and often dressed it in his clothes. Robert, the doll, became his trustworthy companion. He took it with him on shopping trips into town. The doll had a seat at the dinner table where Robert would sneak it bites of food when his parents weren't looking. Robert would even be tucked into bed with the boy at night. Soon this innocent relationship took on a strange nature.
Soon after, Robert chose to be referred to by his middle name, Gene, after being scolded by his mother. He told her that Robert was the doll's name, not his. Gene was often heard in his toy room having conversations with Robert. Gene would say something in his childish manner and responses could be heard in a much lower voice. Sometimes Gene would become very agitated, worrying the servants and his mother. She would, on occasion, burst in to find her son cowering in a corner while Robert sat perched in a chair or on the bed glaring at him. This was only the beginning.
Household objects would be found thrown across the room, Gene's toys turned up mutilated, and giggling could be heard. Whenever these unusual acts took place, Gene always said, "Robert did it!" The boy took the punishment but always insisted that the blame was Robert's. As the mischief grew, more and more servants took their leave as new ones were hired. The Ottos' relatives felt it was time to do something. With the recommendation of a great aunt, Gene's parents removed Robert from his care and placed him in a box in the attic. This is where he resided for many years.
After the death of his father, Gene was willed his boyhood home. He decided to live in the Victorian mansion with his new wife. Gene had become an artist, and felt the house was spacious and would provide a place for him to paint. He went to the attic and dusted off his childhood toy. He became attached to the doll despite his wife's displeasure. Gene would take the doll along with them everywhere they went. He even sat in his favorite little chair while Gene and his wife slept nearby. The Turret Room became Robert's domain after Mrs. Otto moved him back to the attic. Their marriage slowly became sour until Mrs. Otto supposedly went insane and died of unknown reasons. Gene followed soon behind.
Robert supposedly attacked people, sometimes locking them in the attic. People who passed by claimed to hear evil laughter coming from the Turret Room. For some time, Robert remained in the empty house by himself until a new family purchased the mansion and restored it. The doll was once again moved to the attic. This pleased it as much as the last time. The doll was often found throughout the house. On one certain night, Robert was found at the foot of the owners' bed giggling with a kitchen knife in hand. This was enough to send them fleeing from the home.
Robert was later moved to the East Martello Museum in Key West, where he sits perched in a glass box. Despite his new living quarters, the doll is believed to not have given up his menacing ways. Visitors and employees claim they have seen the doll move. His smile has been known to turn into a scowl. One employee cleaned Robert, turned off all the lights and left for the night.
The next day, he returned to find lights turned on, Robert sitting in a different position than the night before and a fresh layer of dust on his shoes. Some say he'll even curse you. If you want to take a picture of him, you must ask politely. He'll tilt his head in permission. However, if he doesn't and you take the picture anyways, a curse will befall upon you and anyone who accompanied you to the museum. The same will happen if you make fun of him.
To this day, Robert remains at the East Martello Museum in his sailor suit clutching his stuffed lion, continuing his menacing ways.
this story is actually what Child's Play (chuckie) is based off of. -
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@""TayGettem "
As a believer I completely agree with douwanttogoheaven
One of the reasons you can't really explain the differences to people of faith is ( well at least for me) that both types or all types of spiritualism" all have one thing in common......
They all involve spirits thru human agents doing things to other people. The bible says love thy neighbor and that is THE MAIN reason why I don't care if it's spiritualism or occultism... Any type has people practicing POWER OVER OTHERS.... ? SAYS LOVE ONE ANOTHER -
yahwehprofet wrote: »@""TayGettem "
As a believer I completely agree with douwanttogoheaven
One of the reasons you can't really explain the differences to people of faith is ( well at least for me) that both types or all types of spiritualism" all have one thing in common......
They all involve spirits thru human agents doing things to other people. The bible says love thy neighbor and that is THE MAIN reason why I don't care if it's spiritualism or occultism... Any type has people practicing POWER OVER OTHERS.... ? SAYS LOVE ONE ANOTHER
Once again your wrong
The occult is simply knowing the inner works to the soul
Theres levels to this ?
An that's all I'm going to say on the subject
What you do with the stuff u learn is up to you
What I do and what the "Dark Ones" do is different there at a level I'm not willing to go
Cause it opens doors to ? u don't want to meet and can't get rid off
I deal with ghost the occult u and dro are talking abt deals with demons
Also I don't or never have tried to control a person
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yahwehprofet wrote: »@""TayGettem "
As a believer I completely agree with douwanttogoheaven
One of the reasons you can't really explain the differences to people of faith is ( well at least for me) that both types or all types of spiritualism" all have one thing in common......
They all involve spirits thru human agents doing things to other people. The bible says love thy neighbor and that is THE MAIN reason why I don't care if it's spiritualism or occultism... Any type has people practicing POWER OVER OTHERS.... ? SAYS LOVE ONE ANOTHER
Once again your wrong
The occult is simply knowing the inner works to the soul
Theres levels to this ?
An that's all I'm going to say on the subject
What you do with the stuff u learn is up to you
What I do and what the "Dark Ones" do is different there at a level I'm not willing to go
Cause it opens doors to ? u don't want to meet and can't get rid off
I deal with ghost the occult u and dro are talking abt deals with demons
Also I don't or never have tried to control a person
"Your ancestors called it magic. But you call it science... "
Thor -
Voodoo is witchcraft and it's real. I heard stories from family about when they visited parts of Africa and how heavy and dark the spirit was. That's not a door I would ever open plus I know a thing or 2 about dark spirits.
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BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE
There once was a person named Teddy. He was a middle aged, balding, over-weight, lonely man.
He never had siblings and both his parents were dead, which consequentially left him with an estate and lots of money. This meant that he didn’t need to work and the big house with huge back yard made him go crazy with solitude. His parents raised him to be a well-mannered Catholic, something he wasn’t very orthodox about until after they died. It gave him no comfort in thinking they were in heaven or that ? was looking after their souls. He had issues with religion, you see, with ? in particular.
He was taught that ? was all powerful and loving and that he watched over everyone. But Teddy, being stubborn, didn’t buy into all the benevolence, omnipotence and omniscience of ? .
He found problems; if ? was so powerful why didn’t he just fix the evil in the world? If he was loving, why did bad things happen? And if he knew what everyone was going to do, what was the point in watching over them? His father had little chats with Teddy when he was a boy, telling him that his mother was one of the “beautiful ones” and that she was lucky ? made her that way. That always stuck with Teddy, “the beautiful ones”. Why didn’t ? make him into a “beautiful one”? This supposedly all loving ? didn’t seem to love Teddy too much.
When growing up, Teddy found people in school and college that he found beautiful and wanted to become friends with them. But they always found him weird and creepy for trying to talk to them and hang out all the time. He eventually gave up on trying to be around them and just watched from a short distance away, eavesdropping on their interesting conversations. He found every word they said to be striking, a kind of beauty that came naturally to some.
Being an older man now, Teddy went to a cafe a few times a week, just for something to do. He was a big reader and always took a Stephen King book with him to read while he drank his coffee. Not that he did much reading. He would peer at people over the top of his book, only people he found “beautiful”.
He pretended to be texting sometimes and took snapshots of the people he adored from the first sighting. He printed them out and tacked them up on the walls in a spare room in his house, each with a number written underneath them. When he felt alone, which was most of the time, he would go and stare at their faces just to consume himself in their array of beauty.
Soon this wasn’t enough for Teddy. He craved to be near to these people. To watch them intently. See how they live. Observe a way to become one of them.
He started following a few favourites of his from the cafe. They were regulars, coming in on their lunch breaks to grab a coffee, chatting away on their phones or to other “beauts”. He followed them to their offices, sometimes home. He took notes for each that he followed, noting what cars they had, what job they did, their address, marital status, whether they had children, what bank they used, what social circles they were in and anything he could find out about them.
He followed one of his targets one night; he had a plan. She was walking home in the dark, taking a short cut down an alley. At first she didn’t realize Teddy was behind her, but after she heard his footsteps she became wary. He was smart; he got out his phone and pretended to call his “wife”:
“Hey, honey.”
“Yeah, I’m just making my way home now, won’t be too long.”
“Okay, love you too.”
She seemed to ease at the knowledge that he was a family man, as if it made him less of a threat. He fastened his pace, coming up behind her in the darkness, grabbing her, and wrapping a chloroform-soaked hanky around her lips and nostrils. She struggled for a while but eventually drifted into unconsciousness. He had parked his car at the end of the alley, and he carried her dead weight body in the darkness and carefully placed her onto his back seat.
He stared at her face for a minute. Absorbing her beauty. Basking in her victory of catching her so easily. She is his now, they will live in his house together, and everything will be perfect, he thought.
When she came round she struggled, trying to attack him and escape. He eventually killed her in his attic where he kept her. She wouldn’t do as he said, she wouldn’t understand that he didn’t want to ? her. So he got angry and struck her over the head, over and over.
This happened several more times, men and women, kidnapped and killed because they struggled when he got close to them. He buried them in his back yard, each grave marked with the number of their photograph, which now had crosses through them and each body, each mutilated body, was buried with the notes he took of them whilst stalking them.
I say each mutilated body because after he killed them, he cut them open to see what was inside, to see what made them beautiful. He made incisions from the chest down to the abdomen, using the masses of tools he had from his father’s shed, he cracked open the ribcages and skulls. Pulled out most of the organs for closer inspection, ripped out the spinal cords, removed their eyes from the sockets and left them mutilated in a shallow grave with only a stick with their individual number marking the graves. He never found any evidence of beauty inside them, even though he kept looking. After the third corpse he knew it was pointless.
He proceeded to stalk people from the cafe, kidnapping the ones that he liked the most. He extended his search area as the same old faces lost their beautiful touch, driving out to other cafes or restaurants and waiting for his victims to go into a secluded dark place where he could pounce on them. He didn’t ? these ones, around 9 of them. He kept them in his basement (it was a huge basement) kitted out with cages that his predecessors used for hunting dogs, around 30 all together. He chained “the beautiful ones” up inside the cages by their necks so they had their hands free to eat. He tied some up more than others, and gagged the loud ones.
He would go watch them, and he kept cameras on them. If they misbehaved he would murder one in front of the rest to strike fear into them. He sat on a small wooden chair, rocking back and forth as he watched them; he gave them water to wash in and basic beauty necessities to keep them looking prim.
But he tired of just watching these people. They weren’t in their social environment to interact properly; they lost their touch after a while. He thought of killing them all, but was too lazy to dig all them graves in one go. He came up with several ideas as for what to do with them next, but there was one that made a huge, spine-chilling grin grow onto his face.
He was going to make a whole new wardrobe. Who would he wear first...?
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Today was the day it slowed to 500 miles per hour. I think. Was that yesterday? Perhaps today it was planed to reach 400. I suppose it doesn’t matter either way; It’s hard to remember many things at this point. It was only a matter of time before science went too far and became humanity’s downfall. But who would have guessed it would be the downfall of the existence of life anywhere?
One year ago it was announced over the news that a new method of harnessing dark energy had been discovered. I never understood all the details on what this meant, or how they were able to do it, but I do remember it being explained that dark energy was basically the building blocks of gravity. To be even more exact, it is basically was holds the universe together on a quantum level. Being able to control or manipulate this energy would mean that unlimited possibilities would be at humanities disposal, and it was very exciting. But also very scary. Scary because America was currently on the brink of World War III and this new discovery was planned to be used for military purposes.
A few months passed and The Soviet Union and The British Empire had begun their strikes on each other. There was constant threat of nuclear weapons being used, and America was on the verge of becoming involved. NATO was very much against the experiments planned for controlling dark energy. Many researchers believed that tampering with such energy meant messing with the fabrics of space and time itself and, no matter what precautions were planned, could result in catastrophic and unimaginable effects on the Earth or even affect the very laws of physics themselves. A facility had already been prepared in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert in New Mexico for testing purposes. The matter wasn’t debated long until there was evidence to suggest nuclear weapon strikes from The Soviet Union and China on The British Empire and possibly the United States. Testing was planned to start immediately.
The incident occurred two months ago. America managed to stay out of the war for the time being, but The Soviets were still at war with China and most of Europe laid in ruin. No one knows how it happened, since nobody there lived to tell the tale, but at 12 o clock noon on Tuesday June 10th, and earthquake was felt across the world. A 7.8 level Earthquake was recorded in every continent, country, state and city that lasted 5 minutes long. Breaking news reported that the facility in New Mexico had been destroyed… but “destroyed” isn’t even the right word for it. A pitch black sphere now existed where the facility once was, and took up the entire desert. It was almost as if reality had disappeared from the place. Shortly after, New Mexico soon had to be closed off from the rest of the country. Not even an hour after the incident occurred, people in cities surrounding the desert began to go mad. People claiming to hear voices, hideous deformities and diseases fell upon hundreds, and people began killing other people in the streets. Anyone who would reach a 50 mile proximity to the sphere would begin to suffer from one of the many ailments that befell the poor citizens. Word of what science had brought upon humanity spread quickly, and the war came to end with the arrival of worse news.
A few weeks after the incident it was discovered by NASA astronomers that the rotation of the Earth had begun to slow down little by little. An estimated 11.2 seconds per day, but each day it seemed to become a little bit more. It wasn’t long before the rotation of the Earth went from 1,000 miles per hour to 800. And it wasn’t just our planet. The moon and other planets in our solar system seemed to be showing similar symptoms in their gravitational behaviors. It wasn’t just the Earth’s rotation slowing down. Time itself was slowing down. It was clear without any studies being done that whatever happened in the desert that day was the cause. In another months time, the rotation of the planet had slowed to 400 miles per hour. The air itself began to become heavy, almost damp, and the fate of existence was slowly becoming accepted.
I continued to live my remaining days at home with my wife and son. I don’t know what was happening in the rest of the world,or with my friends or other family, but attempting to talk was like trying to read something far away while yawning. We had accepted our fate. Today was the day we knew it would all end. I approached my son and wife on the couch in our living room. The air felt like there were heavy curtains in front of me as I tried to reach my destination. I sat in between the two of them, and gave them each a slow turn and smile. “I love you’s” were stretched out of our heavy mouths one last time before the shift was felt beneath our feet, as I felt the universe itself stop all around us. And there we stayed, frozen and damned for all eternity, smiling at one another.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6b_KzjgkmE
