Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep200: Episode 200: Shocking Horror Stories

Episode Date: December 12, 2024

Today’s first terrifying tale of the macabre is ‘The Ultimate Race,’ an original story by Tara Devlin, shared with us via Dr. Creepen’s Vault:  https://www.reddit.com/r/DrCreepensVault/comments/711twq/the_ultimate_race_fiction/ Our second terrifying tale of terror is ’The Hot Springs,’ an original story by Tyler T:  http://www.creepypasta.com/the-hot-springs/ Our third fantastic offering is ‘Coal Dust,’ an original, anonymous story:  http://www.creepypasta.com/coal-dust/ Our second terrifying tale of terror is ’Camcorder,’ an original story by Blittle McNilsen:  http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Camcorder Today’s penultimate tale of terror is ‘Brain Activity,’ an original story by AsAfterlife:  https://www.reddit.com/r/DrCreepensVault/comments/628gyw/brain_activity Our final macabre story this evening is ‘The Serpent Man of White Hollow Road,’ an original story by Ghost Beezer, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all:  https://www.reddit.com/r/DrCreepensVault/comments/5u9zsm/the_serpentman_of_white_hollow_road/

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Book an eye exam at Spexavers.cavers.caps. I exams are provided by independent optometrists. Visit Spexsavers.caver to learn more. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's dungeon. Shocking things scare us because they jolt us out of our sense of normalcy and control. Our brains are wired to predict and anticipate what happens next. When something completely unexpected occurs, whether it's a loud noise, a sudden revelation or a horrifying twist,

it disrupts that process, triggering an intense fight or flight response. The physiological reaction combined with the emotional impact of the unknown or the incomprehensible leaves us vulnerable and unsettled. In many ways, fear of the shocking reflects our deeper fear of losing control over the world around us, as we shall see in tonight's collection of stories.

Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Knight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. Today's first terrifying tale of the macabre is the ultimate race by Tara. a deviling. Every year

in our town there is a race, but it's not just any race. In this race, anything goes. And the winner gets to have their deepest, darkest desire filled. You'd like someone dead. They'll hand you the gun or do it for you. Want a million dollars. It's in your bank account before you even get home. Not only that low.

During the race, all bets are off. Within the confines of the racetrack, anything and everything becomes legal. Whatever it takes to win. Competitors aren't allowed to bring any weapons with them, but if you manage to kill someone on the racetrack to get ahead, you'll never be held accountable. It's considered part of the risks for the incredible rewards. And so, year after year, people sign their lives away to take part, sometimes literally. This year, I was one of those people.

My family is small, just myself, my younger sister and our mother. She's been raising us alone since our father died of cancer when I was only five years old. My sister was too young to remember it, but I remember watching him. fade away and die before my eyes. And now our mother is sick too, and she needs a heart transplant. Of all the things, I sometimes wonder if we're cursed. Of course, you can't just come by a free heart. And that's why I signed up for the race.

If I could win, I could get my mother to the top of the transplant list. I could save her. I could save both myself and my sister the pain of having to watch another parent die. I didn't care about the free-for-all that many people used the race as an excuse for. I just wanted to win and get that heart. I just wanted to save my mother and be the hero. Oh, how stupid I was. the competitors gathered at the starting line

and the morning of the race as in previous years there was close to perhaps a hundred runners or more it was like those marathons you see on TV where a giant group of people move en masse like a giant wave of ants moving to devour a carcass only these people were even deadlier

a good number of these ants weren't likely to make it to the finish line and that was exactly why a lot of them were here, a chance to kill with impunity. It attracted a surprising number of people. Hey! Oh, oh, hey. It was my friend, Joe. My heart dropped. Why was he here?

You're racing two this year, huh? he asked. I pointed to the race number displayed on my chest and shrugged. He, me too, he laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. So, what's your deepest, darkest desire? What's big enough to get you out here with all these crazies? Oh, a heart transplant for my mother, I replied. Joe nodded and mouthed.

Ah, like it all suddenly made sense. You? Perhaps not as dire or as noble as your curls. Just money, he shrugged. Joe also had a younger sister, and although our family was far from well off, Joe's family seemed to struggle even harder. He came to school without lunch more often than he did with it, and he'd been wearing the same shoes for the last two years now.

And I'm pretty sure that he was using the same school back. he'd gotten in the second grade of elementary. His family certainly could benefit from the money, there was no denying that. Competitors, to your starting positions. An announcement blared across the track from the speakers set up either side of the road. The course changed every year.

This year it would be taking them through the mountains, down past the local river, around the school and finally ending at one of the biggest parks in town. It wasn't a terribly long race, all things considered, but you tell that to a hundred people trying to kill each other for that grand prize. Good luck, eh? Joe smiled again. How could he be so happy? He was surrounded by people who, for the next hour or so,

would be trying to kill him. May the best man win. Um, yeah, I smiled meekly. If life worked out that way, we wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place. The Stirling gun went off, and, like murderous lemmings, the crowd of races surged forth. I wasn't even ten metres down the track when already I had to jump over fallen bodies and dodge projectiles coming my way. I've seen the race enough times to know how it begins every year.

It's always the same. A rush of bodies, the initial thrill of the chance to kill. A good number of people go down, and for them the race is over before it even began. Ambulances and clean-up crews stood nearby, ready to pick up the pieces once the rush was over. My plan was simple, stick to the back of the pack initially, let the lead runners pick each other off, maintain a good pace, and as the finish-line drew, closer, I'd make my move. Whatever that move needed to be. In the week leading up to the race, I questioned myself often of whether I could do it. Could I kill a person? If it was for my mother, for my sister, could I kill another human being? What if it was just me and one

another person drawing in on the finish line. Would I be able to take that person's life with my own hands in order to save my mothers? Honestly, I didn't know. I wanted to believe that I couldn't, but who really knows what dark, horrible acts a person can commit in the heat of the moment. Phew, that was close. It was Joe. He kept a steady pace beside me as we followed the violent stampede up the mountain.

Bodies continued to drop like flies. I jumped over a man with his skull crushed in. A bloody rock lay beside him, discarded like he was. I remembered him from the front of the pack. That's why you never start at the front. Few spectators like that. the mountain road. Most of them would be waiting near the finish line where all the real action was. Nobody cared about the insignificant ants who died early on. It was the furious battles near the

finish line that people camped out for days to secure their spot for. That was what the crowd really wanted. Blood. Not just any blood, but the kind of blood that could only be spilled by those on the verge of having their biggest wish granted, or about to have it taken away. So your parents agreed to you doing this. I asked Joe as you reached the top of the mountain. It gave us a view of the race ahead. There were probably 20, maybe 30 runners ahead of us. A few bodies lay by the side of the road. Not the biggest starting race massacre ever, but it still wasn't pretty. The lead was about 300 metres down the road,

a physically imposing man with something large in his hand, probably the rock that had taken down at least a few of the bloody bodies lying nearby. They don't know that I'm here, Joe replied, leaping over a hand and grasping for his ankle. They don't know? No! Joe smiled as though it was all a big, game. Although they probably do now. Are you crazy? Maybe. Did you ask your mother first? Well,

not in so many words, no. It was true. I mentioned the race to her, but never specifically said I was taking part. But I think she knew deep down, that was why I brought it up anyway. And she never objected. That was permission enough for me. Look out! Joe grabbed my shirt and yank me back. Something whizzed by my head and landed by the side of the road. A knife! Competitors weren't allowed to bring knives. It was strictly what you found on the way. A woman coming down the track behind us spotted the knife and slowed down to pick it up. She turned to us and smiled to us and smiled. It was a feral smile, like a starved animal about to take down its first prey in weeks. It was also the last smile that would ever touch her lips.

May a moment after she picked up the knife, a rifle sounded, and the woman's head split open. The knife hit the ground, followed by her crumpled body. The sound of a taser drew my attention from the sight before me. one of the few spectators on the mountain descent was twitching as he hit the ground a man in raid gear spoke into his mic before the body was dragged off joe and i looked at one another and started running again just need to keep moving hey you've got some blood on you joe pointed to my face his hand was shaking

I just kept running It was all I could do We reached the river By now maybe ten people were in front of us We'd reach the part of the race Where most of the runners were spaced out enough Just to keep running Other than the sound of our breathing

Our feet hitting the dirt And the trickle of the river Everything was quiet I was okay with that quiet was nice the side of that woman's head exploding haunted me she broke the rules she picked up a weapon tossed onto the track by a spectator everyone knew what happened when you broke the rules but i couldn't get the image out of my head it was like a head just exploded blood and bone showered in every direction. I don't know if I can do it. I muttered. Do what? Joe's feet continued to hit the ground in sync with my own. Kill a person. I don't think I can do it. You don't have to kill anyone to win the race. Stop thinking about it. I know, but you saw that guy up there. You think he's just going to let us

peacefully pass it and take the first place? Probably not, no. A scream sounded ahead of us. Another competitor down? What are you going to do with the money if you win? I asked. Joe didn't seem the type to really care about material possessions. But with a million dollars in front of you, well, that could change a person.

Send Dad to that training cost he needs to get that promotion to work finally. You know, they've skipped him over three years in a row now, simply because he can drive the forklift, and they're too scummy to pay for his license. I didn't know that. I'm sorry. Oh, and it'll let Mom quit a night job, and I want to get Marie some new clothes and such for school. She doesn't say anything, but I know the other kids tease her. They teased me. I didn't know what to say. I just nodded as we ran. We're about to live. lose the house too. Joe said after a few moments. We have nowhere else to go. I don't know what to do. Even if I get another part-time job, another five part-time jobs, it wouldn't help. This is our last chance. No one can do this but me. Joe hit the ground in front of me, sending me

tumbling over the top of him. Boo-hoo, what a sad story. Let's all have a pity party about it. We'll have a pity party about it. One of the runners was standing above us with a large, thick tree branch in hand. He must have been hiding behind one of the trees. I turned over and saw a body lying in the river. That must have been the scream we heard. The branch connected with my torso and pain exploded throughout my side. Another strike, this time to my shoulder. His aim was getting higher. Another hit and Joe's foot connected with the man's jaw and sent him flame. Joe scrambled for the branch before the man called his bearings, and before he knew what was happening, it was all over.

Joe battered his face in. Over and over the branch came down till there was nothing but a pulpy, bloody mess in the mud. Joe stood up and turned to me. His face and upper body were almost entirely red. I opened my mouth a few times But Joe just dropped the stick And held out of hand Come on

We're not winning this race sitting around here I swallowed my words And looked at his bloody hand Still in shock He'd just murdered a man right in front of me He was about to kill us sure But I'd known Joe since we were five years old

We grew up together He was always so sweet and kind to everyone. The Joker who never took anything to heart. They're getting ahead. Come on. They're getting further ahead of us. I shook my head and took his hand. He was sticky.

Yeah, right. Sorry. Come on, let's go. I took one last look at the body and started running again. The longer I ran with Joe, The more I realized that things were going to get very complicated. Only one person could win. It may not be either of us, but if it came down to it, what would we do?

I needed that heart transplant for my mother. He needed that money for his family to survive. It wasn't like either of us could just give up the other one. We neared the school. There were a few more spectators here. We were closing in. on the end. Do you hear that? Hear what? Listen. There was a fight up ahead. It was the big guy who'd been in the lead. A woman and two men were circling him, his brow cut and dripping blood

into his eye. One of the men, tall but skinny, had something small and sharp in his hand. The woman was swinging a chain she probably lifted from the trash cans. Joe put a hand across my chest and brought a finger to his lips. He pointed through the middle of the school. Leave them be. If we go this way, we can avoid them. It's a bit longer, but... Hey!

The big guy saw us and called out. Oh shit. You got to deal with them, the tall man said. The smaller one started running towards us. He had a baseball bat in hand. It appeared to be wrapped in something sharp, bowed wire. Where did he manage to steal that from? Run!

Joe and I took off at full speed. I was tired. The run itself was wearing me down, but the rise and fall of adrenaline was taking its toll on me as well. I didn't know how much longer I could keep doing this. My legs burned like molten lava, and my chest heaved like it was going. to explode.

Ah! Joe fell to the ground once more. The back of his head was bleeding. The man had thrown the baseball bat at him and was quickly closing in. I picked it up. There was no time. As the man got closer, I swung with all my might. The sound of his jaw cracking was a sound I'd remember for a long time.

Joe had saved me before Now we were even Are you okay Yeah yeah I think so I'm just bleeding Come on let's keep moving I held out a hand and held Joe back to his feet He was a little wobbly

But we pressed on before the others could follow Once we clear the school We'll be in first place There's only 500 metres between here and the finish line We'll make it. Joe smiled. But more and more blood was pouring from the back of his head. Are you sure you're okay?

Stop asking me and keep running. We cleared the school gate when we heard it. It was an almost inhuman growl. I turned. It was the big guy covered in blood. He was holding the same. the woman's chain in one hand and what looked like a steel pole in the other. He hurled it towards us and was moving before it even hit the ground. Her finish line was straight ahead. The park

at the end of the street. Spectators lined the road and wild cheers went up. It would appear we were the final three and the last leg was about to begin. The crowd wanted blood. They all wanted blood. It was only another 500 meters, I kept thinking to myself, just keep moving. Nothing else matters, just keep moving. He can't touch you once you pass the finish line. Nothing else in the world matters being the first to cross that line. Then everything would be okay. My legs pumped across the hard asphalt. It was awkward running with the back, but I refused to let it go. Joe was not far behind me. I couldn't turn to look. It would be precious, wasted time. He's gaining! Joe screamed. So run faster! It was all I could get out. My entire body and mind were focused on moving forward and nothing else.

400 meters. Already I was slowing down. I could feel it. I couldn't keep up this pace much longer. Not anymore. The cheers of the crowd were drowned out by my heartbeat, throbbing in my head and chest and throat. Three hundred meters. Joe caught up to me. The cut on his head was still bleeding a scary amount of blood, but it didn't appear to be holding him back. Sweat poured down the side of his face, mingling with the dried caked on blood. His face was sickly pale, but he didn't say a word. We just kept running 200 meters.

I could hear the footsteps behind us. He was closing in. I could almost feel his breath on my neck. I could hear the chain hitting the ground as he ran. For such a big guy, he sure had some stamina. The finish line was in sight. People were standing up and cheering, urging us on. Not to win, but to fight.

Blood. They wanted more blood. One hundred meters. I tasted asphalt. So close, yet so far. I don't remember exactly what sound I made as my face planted into the ground of full speed, but I'm sure it wasn't dignified. The baseball bat flew out of my hand and clattered nearby. This is it, I thought. It's all over. I'm a dead man, and right before the finish line.

How fitting. I'm sorry, Mum. I tried. A huge weight suddenly pressed down on my back. An almost maniacal laugh sounded near my ear. The crowd grew even louder. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. I braced myself for another impact. The last one of my life, no doubt. Just what the audience wanted. A grand finale.

The impact never came. There was a thud followed by cursing. I turned to see Joe kicking the man in the face again. The finish line was right there, and yet here he was, helping me out once more. The big guy's face turned murderous. He swung the chain over his head and then towards Joe's side. He couldn't get out of the way in time and crumpled to the ground. You think you little shits are going to keep me away from my prize?

Think again. Pain exploded through my head once more as his fist connected with my cheek. He grabbed Joe and yanked him up by his t-shirt, delivering a swift punch to his jaw as well. Joe just smiled at him. Oh, you like that, do you? You some kind of sick old kid?

Is that why you're here? Joe said nothing. I wasn't sure he could. His lip was busted and his jaw bruised. He just kept smiling. He then held up his other hand. He was holding the other end of the chain. Before the big guy knew what was going on,

he wrapped it around his neck, planted his feet against the guy's chest and pushed with all his might. He grabbed feebly at his neck, the veins popping out in his face rapidly turning red. Joe kept pushing against him with his feet and pulling on the chain, not letting go even as the body slid off me to the ground. He just kept pulling tighter and tighter. The big guy's eyes bulged, his breath rasped. The crowd cheered even louder.

He was going to kill him. I looked over. My heart dropped. My mother and sister were in the crowd. Why? Why was she here? Why did she bring my sister here? She was only 12 years old.

Too young to see any of this. I didn't want them to see any of this. My heart dropped even further. next to her was Marie Joe's sister His parents were nowhere in sight Presumably at work Joe

I called out that my voice refused to work My throat was so dry I could barely swallow My head was spinning I got up to my hands and knees And tried again Joe The big guy had stopped moving

Joe kept pulling the chain like his life depended on it. Joe! I put a hand on the back of his leg. He looked down at me, eyes full of fear and confusion and adrenaline. He was like an animal cornered with nowhere to go. He looked awful.

Joe, you can let go now. He's not breathing. Joe turned to. back to the man and after a few more moments he dropped the chain. He fell to his knees beside me. It's just us now. It is? What are we going to do? We need to finish this race. I stood up on wobbly legs. The finish line was just there, 100 meters ahead of us. I put an arm over Joe's shoulder and we stumbled forward. Together.

The crowd was cheering. It was no finale they'd ever seen before. I could hear voices calling for blood, calling for one more bloody finish. I could hear my name coming from somewhere. I turned back and my family were gone. Did I imagine them? It didn't matter.

Forward. We kept moving forward, step after step. Blood run down my face and dripped onto the robe below. Joe was silent. One arm across his battered side and the other helping to hold me up. What a sight we must have been. We reached the finish line and stopped. We'd made it. One of us was about to win. And that's when it hit me again. One of us. Only one person could win. Joe smiled again.

Hell of a race, huh? Hell of a race, I agreed. This is it. Yep. The silence fell between us as the crowd got even louder. I could hear one of the race commentators bled. staring over the loud speakers, but I had no idea what he was saying. I've been doing a lot of thinking.

Joe began. I opened my mouth to reply when he let go of me and shoved me over the finish line. I hit the ground, hard. I'd won. I looked up, confused. Joe was still smiling, but it no, longer reached his eyes. Your mother needs that heart.

I can't keep that from her. She was one of the few people who was kind to me growing up, you know. She never said a word, but she always gave us extra food when we came over to play. Or tucked a few bills into our pocket when we weren't looking. I didn't know what to say. Tears filled my eyes. I was so confused. I took out an insurance policy.

before the race, just in case. He gave a small laugh. Even if I didn't win, well, I wanted to make sure my family would be okay. Uh, what, I don't... This is the only way both of us wins. Hey, watch out for my little sister for me, will you? Give your mother my regards. Her pain is going to be over very soon.

He looked around, as though for the last. time. It's so cold, he whispered. It was the last thing he ever said. Everything afterwards was a blur. Ambulance officers rushed towards Joe while I was picked up and put on a stretch myself. The race organizers were congratulating me at the same time medics were plugging a drip into my veins. They told me later I was suffering from blood loss and heat exhaustion. They were amazed I'd made it to the finish line at all. My mother got her heart transplant. Turned out the big guy was a perfect match. Joe's family also got their money. Unbeknownst to them, he'd taken out a life insurance policy on his own life before the race, a sort of backup

measure in case he didn't win. Joe led to death from his wounds. He was dead before they reached the hospital. I never got the chance to say goodbye to him, to say thank you. Because of Joe, my mother is still alive. Because of Joe I'm still alive. Marie got her new clothes and books for school. She hasn't been the same since the day of that race though. She doesn't speak very much and just spends all her time running. Hey Ontario, come on down to

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free of charge. BenMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. Our second terrifying tale of terror is The Hot Springs by Tyler T. A couple of important things to note. Before I tell you about my experience, you are more than welcome to go check this place out for yourselves. Do a quick Google search of Diamond Fork, Hot Springs, Utah, and you'll get hundreds of results telling you exactly how to get there. For those of you that are curious, it's about an hour and a half drive from Salt Lake City. I would not, however, recommend that you go by yourself or that you go at night.

Another important thing to know is that where my experience took place and the land surrounding has a significant history, especially related to Native Americans. Unfortunately, much of the recorded history is about the exceptionally bloody conflicts between these Native Americans and early settlers. Just a few examples are Blackhawks' War, the Provo War and the Walker War. I also wish it to be known that I am quite fond of Native Americans and what I know of their culture, and I have absolutely nothing against them. In fact, I have several close friends that have Native American heritage.

I do not mean to offend or accuse by telling my experience, and I mention this side note only because of the possible link between my experience and various legends and so-called Skin Walkers. I will provide the facts, and you can make of it what you'd like. That being said, the Diamond Fork Hot Springs are a gem nestled a good half an hour drive and subsequent hike up the canyon and away from the city. I'd been there several times before with my wife Kenna, and I decided to take a Monday off and hike there again this past winter.

The springs are quite popular, and during the summer they tend to draw a large crowd of college students, scout troops, and old men that are overly fond of publicly bathing nude. I'd gone in the winter with my cousin several years previous, and at that point we had the springs to ourselves, so I convinced Kenner to spend one of her days off hiking to them with me. January 11, 2016. We began our hike just before 1pm, thinking that this would give us plenty of time. to hike the springs, enjoy soaking for a couple of hours, and get back to the car before sundown. I'd hike to the springs the winter before, and knew that each winter the road is blocked off to cars well before the trail to the springs begins. This is due to snow, though

honestly it seemed to me that it wouldn't be hard for a plough to go the additional fourish miles. I guess I forgot just how far four miles is when you're walking through snow and ice. Nevertheless, we walked through the gate and began our hike. We enjoyed ourselves and took breaks about every 30 minutes, each break thinking that the trailhead must be around the next bend in the road. Shortly before our first break, I noticed a hole, a cave would be too generous a turn, in the side of the mountain to the left of us. It was obviously a man-made hole. as it was covered by a section of chain-link fence, but it still piqued my curiosity.

It was only about 30 feet from the trail, so I told my wife I'd like to check it out, and she happily came up with me. Upon further investigation, we found that it was not much more than a borehole. We used our flashlights to shine as far back into the hole as we could, but all we could see was some abandoned piping. After taking another five-minute break, we continued on further into the canyon.

We walked and walked and walked. The time wore on, and much earlier than we would have liked, our feet began to ache. I was beginning to regret insisting that we go on this adventure, when we finally turned around a bend and saw the bridge that marks the trailhead. With newfound energy we rushed over to the sign with information about the various trails. At this point it was about three o'clock and I was beginning to become a bit concerned about having enough light to make it back before sundown. But we were already this far and we weren't going to turn around before spending at least

some time soaking in those springs. Plus we had flashlights just in case and the way back to the car albeit lengthy, was very straightforward. So we pushed forward knowing that we were well over halfway there. Our strength seemed to diminish at an exponential rate, which was concerning because we'd have over a five-mile hike back to the car. But I knew that we'd make it back somehow, perhaps with more frequent brakes than on the way up. We soon began to smell the sulfurous odor

that was a sure sign that we were getting very close We ended up seeing some bikers as we approached the springs They were riding some of those fat bikes That have huge tires and are designed for the snow We were happy to see them coming towards us As this meant they were leaving And we would probably have the springs to ourselves After letting them pass

we hiked another ten minutes or so, and finally reached the springs. I can't explain how heavenly the sight to behold those springs were. The combination of the milky blue water, the red rock with snow on it to our left and our right, the blue sky above, and the waterfall about a hundred yards ahead were too much to take in all at once. And, best of all,

we had it all to ourselves we quickly stripped down to our swimming suits and hopped in it felt incredible truly like stepping into healing waters we relaxed for a bit and our noses quickly adjusted to the sulphur smell unfortunately our bodies also adjusted to the water temperature and before long the water didn't feel as amazingly warm as it didn't feel as amazingly warm as it did at first. There are a few places between the first spring and the waterfall further along the trail where water bubbles out of the earth and flows into the pool of its own. So, I figured I'd check out a couple of the other pools and see if I could find a hotter one. I managed to climb up the runoff of some of the other pools, thinking that this would save my feet from freezing. It did, but in the process my feet slipped several times on the mossy rocks and were fairly banged up by the time I reached the other pools. To my delight, these pools were significantly warmer, so I rushed back and beckoned my wife to come join me in these warmer springs.

After a very brisk 30-second dash, we jumped in, and I yelped briefly, as I realized I may have jumped a bit too close to the mouth of the spring. We soaked and enjoyed ourselves for about an hour. We ate some of the chips and granola bars that we'd packed in and I downed a good deal of cherry coke. At this point I'd accepted the fact that for at least some of the hike back we would be in darkness and have to use our flashlights. From the springs it was hard to tell just how much the sun had set since there are mountains rising steeply to both the east and west and the sun is only visible overhead for around five hours in the middle of the day. At about five o'clock, we decided we really needed to get going,

as much as we were dreading the hike back. We dried off, took a few pictures, and headed out. Shortly after beginning the hike, I realized my feet were immensely sore and that my legs were already begging for a break. I mentioned this to Kenner and she mentioned that she was feeling the same I could tell that we were both in a mood to complain so I determined to try and keep the mood light

and the conversation lively to distract us from our discomfort things got very dark very fast we hadn't even reached the halfway point from the springs to the main road when we started seeing stars above us. Now, we had a couple of flashlights with us, but I figured we should put off

using them as long as we could, since I'd just grabbed them from my parents' house and had no idea how long they would last. I also hadn't thought to bring extra batteries. All was well, though, as our eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and making out the snow-packed trail wasn't too difficult. I could tell that Kenner was getting as tired as I was, so in an attempt to distract ourselves from our weariness, I asked her about a scary movie that she'd seen with a friend a few days previously. As she told me the plot, I began to feel a bit anxious and jumpy,

but nothing more than what would be expected. It was part way through Kenner's explanation of the plot, though. that I felt a surreal sinking feeling. It was as though my insides were being squeezed, and I was descending into a state of panic. I generally don't get overly scared when reading or hearing scary stories, especially if I know it's just a movie. But this was different.

I determined that this must be due to our circumstances, being isolated in the mountains far from anyone else, with darkness surrounding us on all sides. From the beginning of the sinking feeling to attempting to justify it and brush it off was only a matter of seconds. I hadn't realized it, but Kenner had paused her explanation and hiked in silence for those few seconds.

Then, hastily wrapped it up and moved on to another. subject. I was secretly glad that she'd finish so quickly and figured that some discussion on a lighter topic would probably push out the overwhelming feeling of panic and paranoia that had overtaken me. It was about at this point that I began to hear the whispering. Now there is a river that runs next to the trail and down about five feet in most places. I tried to brush the noise off as the sound of rushing water. The thing that made me especially uneasy though was that the noise just wasn't coming from the river to the left of us. It was coming from the right and from behind as well. Kenner had gone

silent again and I hadn't paid much attention as I was quite distracted by the noises. they started out very quiet almost too quiet to even notice over the sound of the river and they grew slowly louder they never grew loud enough to completely get rid of the doubt that they were actually there but i was sensing a changing kenner's disposition as well shortly thereafter she said my name which nearly made me jump out of my skin and asked if I'd be okay taking a break. I tried to appear calm and said I would, though the feeling of panic was still as strong as ever. It seemed to scream to me

that we needed to get away from where we were right now. We sat down in the snow and didn't talk much. I think I mentioned something about how we must be getting close to the road, and that then, at least we'd be on a wide paved road, rather than this thin dirt trail. I didn't dare ask Kenner if she was feeling or hearing anything, in part because I didn't want to sound like the scary movie plot was getting to me, and in part because I didn't want her to confirm that the weird stuff going on

wasn't just inside my head. Unfortunately, the whispers hadn't stopped while we rested. In fact, they seen more. real than ever. I was getting antsy and again anxious to at least be making our way towards the car and sure safety. I suppose it was more of a desire to making our way away from whatever was behind and around us. At this point I began to shiver and pointing this out to Kenna, I suggested we keep pushing onward. I knew that I wasn't overly cold, at least not cold enough to make me shiver like I was.

Put simply, I was overwhelmingly terrified of the darkness around us and what it contained. We hopped up and continued onward. All the same I was hoping and praying that we would see the bridge marking the trailhead and at least make it off this dirt trail and back onto the pavement. I knew that we would have a several-mile walk back to the car after crossing the bridge, but there was something comforting about the thought of being on the wider road. As we came upon a rather steeper part of the trail, I recognised it as a landmark that was very close to the bridge.

I decided that we should pull out our flashlights for this portion. I didn't want either of us slipping on ice or tripping on a route and falling into the bridge. river below and among whatever else might be down there. We each took a flashlight and I decided to go behind Kenner, just in case she started sliding backwards. As we started climbing up, I looked down at the path and noticed the strange tracks that the bikes had left in the snow. I also noticed some other strange tracks that were going around and over the bike tracks.

It looked like a small party of people with bare feet had gone through with a large pack of dogs. My mind was trying to put things together quickly, but was struggling. Those bikers had been the only people that we had seen, but these foot, poor prints were certainly from people that had come after the bikers. Another strange thing was that these prints were not only on the trail, but were left deep in the snow to either side, seeming to go off in random directions. Some tracks came to the trail, others left it,

and everywhere there were large porporints mixed with the human footprints. At first this came as a relief to me. My first thought was that there must be some very dedicated campers who had decided to bring their dogs along somewhere close by. The thought of some tough, burly campers nearby in these godfors forsaken mountains was like a ray of light my mind. Then a point of confusion began to form, small at first but then very concerning. Campers don't go hiking around in the snow in bare feet,

and this point was far too far from the spring. for someone to be walking around without shoes. This thought process, from terrified to hopeful, back to terrified and concerned, happened within a matter of seconds. Kenner had stopped and turned to me and pointed out the prints in the snow as well. I tried to brush it off with a chuckle and,

here, what the hell are people thinking? But the look of concern on her face only confirmed, that I was not alone in my worried thoughts. The panic was once again overcoming me, and I wished more than ever that the whispering would stop. All I could say was, let's go, and we pushed on with even more determination than before.

I kept looking behind us every time expecting to see something following. each time before I look back my stomach would do a flip but not once did I see anything suspicious we kept our flashlights on for the rest of the hike out and at long last we saw the bridge ahead we quickly crossed it and without a word continued on to the main road roughly four more miles and we would be safe and sound in the car. To my immense relief, the whispering seemed to quiet down now that we were on the road. My legs and feet were aching like the dickens,

so I asked Kenner if we could take another quick break. She obliged, and I very quickly regretted making the suggestion. The river still flowed by the road, but it was not nearly as close as it was to the dirt part, and therefore didn't mask any sounds. At this point, the whispers, though quieter than they'd been on the dirt trail, were very clear and undeniably existent. I stared back to the bridge, wishing that this maddening noise

and accompanying sense of extreme paranoia would go away. As I looked to Kenner to see how she was reacting to this menacing noise, I noticed she had her head in her hands and seemed to be shaking I put my arm around her shoulder and pressed my head up against hers and as I looked down I froze the snow we were sitting on

was covered in human footprints along with those enormous poor prints again there seemed to be no method or destination in mind for whoever or whatever had been stomping around here. I shone my flashlight with a shaky hand in each direction, trying to figure out where these things had gone. I followed one set of footprints that ascended up the side of the hill to our right

and saw that the human prints ended and those huge animal prints picked up right where they'd left off. I felt as if I was descending into madness. I wanted to cry. I began to feel angry towards these things. Was this some kind of sick joke? I wanted to scream and call out to these things to stop messing around and get on with whatever they were going to do to us. More than anything, I wanted this all to end.

With hot tears stinging my face and with this newfound anger given me a boost of energy, I pulled Kenner up by her hand, and without a word we continued at a brisk pace down the road. I couldn't shake the darkness. This was so much darker than anything I had ever experienced. It was horrible and overwhelming. Even the stars above seemed extremely dim. The darkness was pressing in all around us, above us, below us, and worst of all.

It seemed to be inside us. Strange thoughts entered my mind, wondering what acts of evil could bring such a feeling to this place. Wondering if we'd done anything to bring this upon ourselves. Was this some kind of sacred place that we were trespassing on? Had we done something to offend these creatures? Whatever the case, I hated this area and felt that I was beginning to to give in to the evil ambient darkness that seemed to be consuming us. I wanted to give up. The thought entered my mind that embracing this evil might be the only way out. Kenner saved me from my own thoughts.

Her sweet voice pierced my dark thoughts and halted this internal spiraling. She'd stopped and softly said, said my name. After taking a second to recover, I asked how she was holding up. She pointed off to the right, toward where her flashlight was shining on a patch of juniper bushes. Again, that invisible hand seemed to clench my stomach, and I froze momentarily. A pair of eyes were reflecting back at us. I tried to regain my composure and after a few seconds I noticed that the eyes remained unblinking. I quickly realized that they were that of a dead animal. The awkward angle and lack of movement gave that away. As I continued to stare, I realized that this was not

just a single dead animal. There were five or so dead deer. And what made my stomach really churned was the amount of blood covering a large patch of the road. I turned away as the sight made me light-headed and I shifted my focus to the ground right in front of us. Again, the snow was covered in those cursed footprints, this time painted with blood. I'll spare you the details, but let me say it seemed that these creatures, creatures had enjoyed themselves immensely at this horrid spot, and there were several trails of blood streaking the snow. Still focusing on the ground, I led us forward and to the left around this horrible scene

of carnage, averting my eyes from the worst of it. I kept expecting to encounter the smell of rotting flesh, but it never came. I guess the deer carcasses were too fresh, and the cold weather probably helped too. Soon thereafter, we passed a campground, a landmark that meant we were getting close to our blessed car. It was at this point that the hollering began. When I heard the first shout, a chill went down my whole body, and I felt sick to my stomach. This was an inhuman shout. and it wasn't far behind us.

I looked back, nearly tweaking my neck in the process, but still couldn't see anything. It was indescribably terrifying. I wished that I could see something, so at least I would know what we were up against. Anything, I felt, would be better than being kept in this state of knowing something was there, but not knowing what it was.

We hurried forward to the car, our legs and feet protesting every step, and the hollering seemed to be getting ever closer and louder. Every twenty seconds or so I would quickly scan to the left, the right, and behind. Each time I hoped that I would see something to relieve me from this deranged state of not knowing. Still, I was terrified to the core of what I might see. see. Finally, after hours of wishing we were here, we rounded a band and saw how a beautiful car. Never in my life was I so happy to see it. My moment of joy was cut short, however, as I did one of my

brief scans of our surroundings. Upon looking behind us, I saw several dark figures moving slowly towards us. A few had their heads raised, and I wondered what I'd been thinking when I'd wished that we could see what these creatures were. Each of them were human-like in form, though they were unusually tall and walking on all forms. They were all covered in thick, reddish-brown hair, and had bright red eyes that reflected perfectly in the dim light of my flashlight. I, will never forget those eyes. What terrified me to the very core, and still haunts me to this day, is the expression they all wore.

Each that had their head up was staring right at me as they slowly crawled forward. And they were each wide-eyed wearing a toothy grin. It felt as if they were boring inside me with their stairs. and I was certain we were going to die. At this point I wasn't afraid of death. I was instead terrified of what the alternative would be once they caught up to us. I could see an excitement and twisted joy in their faces,

as if they were playing a favorite game of theirs, feeding off of our terror. And oh, how I wish I could describe the blackness that surrounded them. It was a blackness that was felt as much as it was seen. It was horribly fascinating, almost even enticing. But those terrifying creatures were so vile that at no point did I consider moving even an inch toward them. At this point, I nearly went berserk. Luckily, Kenner hadn't looked back yet and was marching on faithfully toward the car. When I finally unruited myself from the spot and found my voice,

I cried out to Kenner to run and not look back. I'd caught up to her at this point, and she'd turned to look at me and possibly behind. I screamed, Don't! And she seemed startled by my state of near insanity. She looked forward toward the car again, and we both sprinted straight for it,

adrenaline overcoming weariness. We jumped in, slam the doors. I fumbled with the keys and led off the clutch quicker than I intended, nearly killing the engine. The darkness seemed to be thickening by the second. As I unintentionally peeled out, flinging mud and snow all over, Kenner turned around and screamed. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the creature's mere feet from our car. Their sick faces were ecstatic with excitement And their wide grins may be shout

And put the pedal to the floor Soon we were zooming along the canyon at 40 miles per hour Very dangerous for such a small winding road And somehow these fiends were keeping up with us Everything about them was incredibly unnerving From their horrible gallop to those perverted smiles I prayed that we would reach a straight line length of road where we could go faster and perhaps by some miracle outrun these beasts.

Out of the blue, the darkness seemed to lift. The star shunned more brightly than they had all night, and I was overcome with relief. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the creatures now far behind us, leaping up the sides of the hills to our left. It was still a sickening sight, but somehow I knew they were done toying with us at last. We drove in silence for several minutes until we reached the highway. What a sweet relief it was to see other humans. Seeing the warm glow of their headlights was like walking up to a hot fire after being very cold. I turned to Kenna and saw that she was crying and I in turn began to cry.

We cried and hugged but remained. silent as we sat there next to the highway. There was nothing to say at this point. Shortly after getting back on the highway, I noticed I was quite nauseous and shaky. I pulled over and threw up and felt much better afterwards. At long last, the paranoia left me, and I felt like a new person. We got home around 7.30. We turned on all the lights. shut and locked the door and stayed up all night. Neither of us wanted to sleep, so we stayed up holding each other tight

and trying to distract ourselves with movies. Neither of us talked about what we had gone through until well into the next day, when the sun was high and everything was bright. I could tell neither of us wanted to be the one to bring it up. I felt that if we didn't, talked about it, we would solidify that something really had happened. But I finally brought it up and it was almost a relief to have it out in the open. We've only told a few select people about

this experience and much of it is still quite confusing to us. We still have some questions that may forever remain unanswered, such as what in the world were those creatures? What did we do to warrant their pursuit? They were certainly the quickest creatures we'd ever seen, so why didn't they catch up with us? What would have happened if we had tried to confront them? All we know. All we know is that there is a seriously evil presence up at that can you?

And if you don't believe me, you know where to find it. offering is coal dust, an original anonymous story. So, here I am. Laying down on my stomach, helpless, darkness stifling both my thoughts and my cries for help. I was too deep underground now, all sound drowned out by the earth. With my last moments ahead of me,

I began to reflect on how the hell I am. it up in this position. I'd recently received a tip-off to investigate a small town in Northern England. It was a minute, silent town that hardly manifested on any map I could get my hands on. The history of this place was as obscure as the town itself. The only background information I'd received about the location was regarding the construction of the power plant that was finalized in the early 80s. Before then, the town had heavily relied on coal from its coal mines in order to keep the residents warm during the hard, grueling winters.

However, the most striking news that seemed to plague the town concerned the various reports of missing people and the supposed continued operation of the coal mines, despite their long ago shut down. Accounts of thick, black smoke slithering from behind the grey ridges that tore along the horizon from across the fields that surrounded the town.

Nonetheless, I could not fathom what the connection could be between the missing persons and these reports of the redundant coal mine operations. I needed the money, desperately. So I ventured into this town with the intent of investigating these suspicions of missing people thoroughly. I started with the most appropriate place my mind could conjure up. The fields. These fields stretched for miles, scarred with snaking paths that cut straight

through the tall grass and marshland, all extending out towards the ridges. I'd also been warned beforehand of the marshes that were highly prevalent in the fields. So with this in mind, I set off on my investigation on one of these paths that had been mulched into a slick mud by various people, probably hikers. It seemed like this would be an idyllic, scenic place, with the right weather, of course. At this moment in time, the skies were overcast and grey, a miserable blanket draped over the sun that seemed to have disappeared. The majority of my journey was uneventful. The same images of tall grass, gangly trees and rising hills, crossed my vision for hours.

That was until, through random chance, I somehow wandered onto a path that seemed to be untouched, merely a subtle one-meter white line, which I considered to be a path. I'd probably wandered onto this trail whilst my mind was also wandering. With a heavy sigh, I scolded myself for not being more attentive, reminding myself of the warning of the marshes, the locals of the, had given me. With a newfound caution, I prepared to turn back, which was when something very odd struck my peripheral vision. It was a splash of colour that prominently stood out from the generic green grass. It was sky blue, whipping my head around to focus on the out-of-place object.

I saw it was a long-sleeved shirt. The colour hadn't been as vibrant as I first thought. The blue was darkened and made dull from what I predicted was years of exposure to the elements. Why was this here? It looked like it belonged to an adult, and it also looked like it had been here for a while, with streaks of grime,

Soiling the wool material it was made out of. I didn't touch it. I just stared with curiosity slowly building inside my mind. I simply lifted the lens of my camera and snapped a quick photo. The faded trail beckoned me onwards. Perhaps there were more items of interest further down this path. I continued and discovered more carelessly. strewn about clothing. But these items did not seem to belong to the same person. All were of

different sizes, some seeming to belong to younger children and others to larger individuals. I took photos of all that I came across. I suddenly became aware of the rapidly setting sun around me. It was getting late and I needed to turn back. I found nothing else and began to return to my starting point. Speaking of which, where was I? I was perplexed as I glanced behind me only to notice that there was no longer a path behind me. Only tall grass and a line of trees were visible. Now utterly perplexed, I began to walk aimlessly, attempting to find some noticeable feature that would allow me to make my way back, but there was nothing. Around me appeared the same mundane pattern of trees, grass and hill. Panic began to make.

began to swell as the encroaching darkness crept in. With the sun dipping below the evening clouds, I decided to climb upwards to try and gain an idea of where I was. I reached the top of a grassy knoll and searched around me, scanning for a root out of these fields. I did find something, but it wasn't a root. My eyes fell upon dark columns of smoke. rising towards the murky heavens. With a disbelief infesting my mind, I began to ponder. Was it really true? It couldn't be. I dismissed the thought. I had to focus on getting back.

Then again, the columns seemed to intrigue me, and, like I said, I really needed the money. My feet began to stagger towards the columns, sluggish with fatigue. Now I was no more than a fish caught on a fishing hook. I had taken the bait. I began to draw closer to the smoke. It loomed larger in the sky as I gradually made my way towards the plumes. Just a little closer. Not long now.

That was when I noticed the noise that had been hiding amongst the background chorus of chirping birds and rustling autumn leaves. It was subtle, yet it grew louder and louder as my weary steps came ever closer to the smoke. It was a low rumble. My mind immediately jumped the idea

that this was the mines still in operation, yet I knew this was impossible, for they had been shut down a long time ago. Tucking this thought in the back of my head, I continue going towards the black smoke. I'd been traversing the fields for hours, with no change of scenery to bless my eyes. It was the same grass everywhere. That was until I clicked onto an abrupt change in the land. The green terrain withered away into an asphalt-colored landscape. I had reached my destination, the former coal pits. Flat land stretched out in front of me. I jogged to the edge of this flat wasteland, only to observe a large crater with openings in the site. It was obvious what this was.

I'd also just realized that the smoke had ceased, as had the rumble. Bizarly, I had the idea of searching one of the mineshafts. Looking back on it now, it was a foolish idea. yet I still followed through with my idiotic plan. Cautiously I made my way down the side of this crater, towards one of the openings. It was obscured by thorns and vegetation, and barely visible,

I decided to crawl through a hardly noticeable gap in this wall of vegetation. With great effort, I pushed my body through and came out the other side into pit, blackness, covered in scratches and dirt. Tapping into my resourceful side, I illuminated the place with my camera flash. At the very least it will give me some concept of where I was. Raising my camera, I clicked the button and the bright flash covered every inch of the shaft it was now in.

It revealed to me ashen grey walls. supported by wooden beams that had, surprisingly for their age, not been rotted. In fact, they appeared new, as if somebody was still maintaining them. But how could this be possible? Searching the walls with my hands, I clawed my way around the tunnel, clumsily finding my way deeper and deeper. As I got deeper still, the smell began to intestate the area, becoming more pungent as I descended.

It became so strong that I began to gag heavily. Almost vomiting, I realized that it smelled like something dead. My feet reached a level, grand. and the descent had abruptly come to an end. Raising my camera once more, I activated the flash. I could have turned back then, and now I dearly wished that I had. I had discovered where the missing people went. I saw piles of corpses, stacked one on top of another.

Their clothes were torn and shredded. they had been dragged down here this was made evident by the scratches and cuts I could see on their skin an incinerator was next to this horrifying sight reaching out with reluctant hands I touched its surface I immediately leapt backwards as I discovered

it was hot the source of the smell had also been discovered along with the body bodies. Tears welled up in my eyes and stung as the smell intensified. The smell of rot. The cold dust my fingers had made contact with countless times. It wasn't cold dust. Glaring at my shaking hands, I found that they were not covered in coal. But the ashes of cold, but the ashes of the ashore. ashes from burning bodies. To this point I'd always found it odd how I'd discover not a single lump of coal.

Sure, it was abandoned long ago, but surely that wouldn't mean the source of coal had run dry. There should be at least some trace of coal here. But there was nothing. Only the coal dust. It was when the realisation struck me like a hammer to anvil, sending sparks of horror into my mind. There never was any coal. I now knew how the town was kept warm during the winter, and the thought sickened me. The locals were all deceived and given their power.

Meanwhile, their own kind burned down here. Now I moved on to the next thought that occupied my mind. This place was still in operation. It was too late when I came to this revelation, and, blinded by my shock, I had not heard the creeping footsteps behind me. However, I did hear the word. that froze the blood in my veins.

Ah, more fuel for the fire, eh? Our fourth terrifying tale of terror is Camcorder by Belittle McNeilson. My name is Henry Goodman. Yes, I am related to John Goodman, the blogger that had a rather unpleasant experience with a file called One Dollar.wav. I am his brother.

I'm the father of three kids and I have a wife whose name is Jenny Goodman. I live in Cincinnati, Ohio. I'm here to tell you about a rather disturbing experience I had, involving a used camcorder I got off eBay. It's strange. Both my and John's problems happened when we bought something off eBay. Anyhow, on with my story. So, my family and I were planning a vacation, and we wanted to capture our big trip on tape, as well as take some photos.

Unfortunately, our video camera was broken, so we would have to either get a new one or just take photos instead. So, I went on eBay to see if anyone was selling a camcorder. Well, long story short, I found one. on it and one. A few days later I received a small package which had the camcorder in it. I opened it up and took the camcorder out. It was a typical camcorder with a little small screen on it and such. I had some blank Sony camcorder tapes, so I opened up the camcorder and put one inside. To my surprise, however, there was already a tape inside. I assumed it was one that the previous owner had forgotten to take out.

It was a used camcorder after all. I hoped nothing important was on it. Otherwise they'd be pretty upset about losing it. I took the tape out and looked at it. There was a piece of yellow masking tape stuck on the front, labelled with black Sharpie. 2006. Just 2006.

and nothing else. I decided to play the tape just to see what was on it. So I put the tape back inside the camcorder and hooked the camcorder up to my TV to watch the tape on my television. I started to rewind the tape but it was already at the beginning. So I did the usual crap to play a tape from a camcorder on the TV. The tape started with ten seconds. seconds of a blank blue screen. Then it cut to someone filming a school playground on a cloudy day. Kids were running around and playing, but whoever was filming seemed to be interested in just one of them. A little girl, probably around five years old, with pale skin, brown hair, brown eyes and wearing a yellow coat.

Whoever was filming seemed to be following her and watching her play. Sometimes the person filming would talk to the girl, and it was a man's voice. He called the girl Alice, and I assumed the person filming was the girl's father. I assumed it must have been some recording of her last day of school, or something like that. So, if that was a recording of her, the cameraman's daughter's last day of school, it must have been important to him. I felt bad for him, losing something this precious. But I had little time to ponder that, because suddenly a very loud, droning, buzzing sound

burst from the speakers, scaring the living crap out of me. The scenery had changed. It was now nighttime, and the school... was deserted except for the girl. All the time, that ear-piercing buzz continued to sound from the TV speakers as I plugged my ears. The girl was turned away from the camera, so I couldn't see her face. She just stood there, motionless. Then she turned to face the camera, and what I saw were Well, I didn't see that one coming. The girl's eyeballs were gone.

Just dark, empty sockets where they should have been. There wasn't blood or anything. The eyeballs were literally just gone. Her mouth was drooling some kind of disgusting green slime. And her nose was gone. Not like it was cut off, but just not there. Just plain skin where it should have been. The scene then burst into static.

The buzzing noise stopped, but you could hear the sound of knives slicing against flesh and blood-curdling screams. Then the scene returned, and the girl was hung. by a swing in a swing set, with several nasty wounds around her body and a bloody knife laying on the ground below her. Her eyeballs were still gone, and her mouth still dripped the weird green slime, and she still had no nose. The tape was silent, no loud buzzing or anything. Just silence,

the girl dangled around. Heart pounding so hard it threatened to burst, scared out of my mind because of the sudden buzzing sound and, to a lesser degree, the disturbing footage that accompanied it. I sprinted over to the TV and shut it off. I ejected the tape from the camcorder, shut the camcorder off and unhooked it from the TV. I took a hammer and smashed the tape to tiny pieces, breathing heavily, still not sure what the heck had just happened. I sat back down on the couch. I just stayed there for a while, staring at the blank TV screen. After I'd finally calmed down, Jenny came home from the grocery store.

I helped her bring the groceries in. I didn't tell her about the tape, because she'd thought. think I was going insane. The dream I had that night was not pleasant. I was in a dark hallway. My throat, it felt like someone was repeatedly flicking my Adam's apple. That loud buzzing from the tape was playing non-stop. It wasn't coming from any direction. It was just there, in my ears, as if I was wearing headphones and the sound was being played on them, was scared out of my mind. I wanted desperately to get out, to go home, to be in the comfort of my bed. I tried crying for help, but no matter how hard I tried, no sound would come out.

Suddenly, I felt the urge to vomit. Not having a bucket or a toilet nearby, I puked on the floor. But instead of puk, I hurled up a small Sony videotape, with masking tape on the front labeled 2006 in black Sharpie. Then the tape morphed into a girl. No, not just any girl. It was the girl in the tape. Her eyeballs were gone, her mouth oozed green slime, and she had no nose. She slowly walks down the hallway and for some reason I followed.

All the while that awful buzzing noise kept playing. She led me down the hallway and I realized where I was. I was in an elementary school. Kids' drawings and other art lined the walls. Post is saying, vote Josh for school president, were everywhere. You get the idea. She led me out of an open door and into the playground. It was the very same playground from the tape.

And a man was there holding a camcorder, recording us. But not just any camcorder. It was the very same one that I'd gotten off eBay. He just stood there, recording us. The girl led me over to a swing set. She pulled a knife out of her pockets. My body then became frozen in place. I couldn't move my eyes.

I couldn't move my head. I was forced to watch in horror as the girl sliced herself up with the knife, giving herself the same wounds as in the video. And the buzzing sound stopped, being replaced with the girl's blood-curdling screams of agony. Then she put her neck into one of the swings, as if it was a noose. Then the swing pulled up on its own accoled. killing the girl the girl

dangled from the noose just like in the video after a few moments I could move my body again I sprinted over to the man holding the camcorder he just looked at me and smiled that's my girl he said

I'm so I jolted awake my heart pounded my heart pounded my forehead was sweaty and I was breathing heavily. Jenny lay next to me, apparently still asleep. I sat there for a while and finally calmed down. I lay back down in bed and closed my eyes. But I couldn't fall back to sleep.

My tossing and turning finally woke Jenny up and she got mad and went to sleep on the sofa. She opened the door, but then she froze. She just stood there, and I could see her hands trembling. I asked her what the matter was. She just pointed a trembling finger out the door. I got out of bed and looked to where she was pointing. My blood ran cold.

There was a hallway outside the door, going out to the living room where the TV was. From down the hall, I could see the TV. It was on, and on it was the little girl's face, missing eyeballs and all. But then I realized that the TV was in a corner of the room I couldn't see. from where I was. My sleep-deprived brain mistook what I saw as the TV. But it wasn't the TV.

It was the window. Today's penultimate tale of terror is brain activity by AS Afterlife. I've been blind for most of my life. Apart from the contours of shadows or clouds of colour, I haven't been able to see anything past bad. ever since that fateful day that robbed me of my vision. Being only six years old, I yearned for the chance to see once more.

To remember the difference between red and blue. To see the rainbow of waves reflected through the fading blue skies. To see the bright green colour of my girlfriend's eyes. I would give anything to experience what most would take for granted. That's why, when the opportunity arrived through a new... newspaper ad for an experimental eye surgery. I took no hesitation in signing up. As I walked into the building, my sweaty fingers intertwined between my girlfriends. I could feel my nerves becoming mangled twists inside my chest. My heart quickened to the point of arrhythmia. Don't worry,

everything will be fine, just try to relax. I exhaled a deep sigh of composure as the doctor walked towards us. My nerves only now beginning to dissipate. Hi, I'm Dr. Slayton. I'll be the one doing your procedure. If you'd please follow me, I'll explain the process. I stood, holding tightly to my girlfriend's arm as she led me in the direction of the doctor. I was escorted into a brightly lit room and led onto the examination table. I listened closely as the doctor began to explain the procedure. As you know, this procedure is extremely experimental. We've only tested it out on lab rats, but so far it has been successful. You will be our first human reciprocate of this surgery. I nodded my head, accepting of his declaration. When my girlfriend first informed me of this

program, I was already well aware of the implications. I weigh my pros and cons. and figured out it was in my best interest to take advantage of the opportunity. What we will do is use your brain's natural ability to process light and exploit it. We'll stimulate the right cortex, forcing it to project light to the optic nerve and the macular first, to sharpen their ability to process shapes and colors. Then we'll send signals to the rest of the iron brain once they begin to improve. The science of it all made my brain feel as if it were being shredded by, by a cheese grater. Despite my lack of comprehension, I knew that this surgery would change my

life. The doctor prepped me for the procedure, carefully placing specialized contact lenses onto my pupils and fitting me with unusual looking bifocals. He excused himself from the room for several minutes before returning, wheeling in a rather heavy device. This is the strobe light that we will use for the procedure. We'll hook your brain up to the computers to monitor its activity while we stimulated with patterns of light. I stood slowly reaching out towards

the machine. I felt its cold metal exterior beneath my lukewarm fingers. If I could only see what it looked like. The comforting touch of my girlfriend's warm embrace allowed me to put the thought of losing my sight so suddenly out

of my mind. Soon, I would no longer have to dwell on that horrific night. No longer have to remember my mother's cries as the toxic chemicals spilled onto my irises. Their panic-induced wails as the doctor announced to my parents that I would permanently lose my sight. The regret and resentment in my father's voice for now having to care for a disabled child. The bitter nostalgia was almost too much to bear. I sling back down onto the exam table as the sounds of the machine powering up pricked my ears.

Following the sounds of working machinery were flashes of blinding illumination. Now, I can usually pick up on subtle shimmers of light, but this was something even a nocturnal creature living in the depths of Antarctica would notice. The goggles lessened a bit of the sting, although the translucent beam still managed to dance around violently behind my irises. After what felt like half an hour, I heard the machine shut down and felt the goggles being removed from my face. There will be some discomfort in the eyes after the removal of the contacts, but thou should diminish over the next several hours. You'll have to wear prescription glasses for the first couple of days.

Your next appointment will be a week from now. I'd advise you not to stay out in the sun for too long. It could cause an irritation to the eye. I nodded in comprehension and thanked the doctor for the opportunity, and then was escorted out by my girlfriend. On the way home, she began babbling endlessly about how the colour of the machine matched my eyes, and how the brazen lighting caught her off guard. The doctor had been right about the discomfort.

My eyes were in more pain than Michael Spinks receiving multiple blows from Mike Tyson. the curative nature of pain meds couldn't cheapen the peak. As the hours ticked by, just as the doctor promised, the pain began to disperse. I hadn't taken notice of any changes within my vision, but I was feeling pretty optimistic. After all, it was only the first of many surgeries to come. Within the following week came my second surgery. The doctor once again prepped me for the procedure and wheeled in the heavy strobe light. This time we're going to make my new changes within the procedure. I'm going to make small incisions within the irises

and insert a tiny plate behind the lens. Since the optic nerve has been exposed to the light, it should be easier to stimulate. Will this incision be painful in any way? I was shaking more than a junkie during a heroin binge. We will be using numbing eyedrops, so you shouldn't feel too much discomfort. The procedure should only take about ten minutes. It'll be over before you know it.

I didn't take much solace in the doctor's words, but I'd come too far to opt out because of a cut to the eye. I tried, unsuccessfully, to calm my nerves as the drops trickled onto my pupils. The numbing effects worked shortly after. My eyes could have fallen from their sockets and rolled to the floor, and I would still have had the urge to blink. Imagining the scalpel, slowly slinking towards my eye, forced my heart to sink below the soles of my feet.

My eyelids wanted desperately to shield my eyes from the oncoming danger. The moment that the scalpel touched the tip of my eye, I felt like a frightened kitten in a room full of kennels. But the drops must have worked, because I couldn't feel a thing. As he worked, the doctor described the M.O. of the surgery, detailing each incision and insertion of the plates. The surgery seemed to go by a lot faster than originally announced, which forced my quickened heartbeat under submission.

Once again, I was fitted with the goggles and the blazing. strobe light flickered patterns of light into my eyes. This time, however, I could see faint, multicolored silhouettes of various shapes within the room. It was amazing. The shape of the machine, the outline of my girlfriend's figure, the tones and shades of the designs that lined the walls. I could see it all. It wasn't anything close to perfect eyesight, but it was something I would never of dreamed of witnessing. I never wanted the images to end. But the moment the light was switched off,

the images vanished with it. I was devastated. The visions had me under their spell, and I wanted nothing more than to stay within its grounds. I felt the doctor removed the goggles and tried my best to disguise my discomfort. Okay, all done. Once again, there will be some irritation

in the eye for the next several hours. If the surgery has been successful so far, within a couple of days your vision should start to drastically improve. Before we finish up today, I want to give you a shot of Hexyl Maltrate. It's a trial drug that should speed along the process. I will administer the shot just above the eye. This should only take about a minute or less for each side. Oh, great.

More sharp things near my eyes. I could feel the anxiety from before rearing up inside of me. As I felt the needle into the fragile flesh of my eyelids, I mustered all of the stereotypical manly distractions I could to keep my mind off the pain. The numbing drop's strength had long since worn off. The moment the needle plucked from my eye, I wanted to run full force out of that room

in fear of more scalples and syringes. The doctor, however, managed to put my hysteria to rest with his next words. Your next appointment should be your last surgery. There will be one last administer of the drug, but instead of using the strobe light, we will be using small, controlled flashes of infrared wavelengths. Aren't those type of wavelengths dangerous to the human eye? My girlfriend asked in a solemn tone.

No, infrared is 100% safe. There should be no ill health effects from being exposed to it. My girlfriend and I swapped heartening glances. We both had total confidence in the surgery. Before leaving the exam room, the doctor handed me a small bottle of pills. These are called metropoxial separatol. These are also experimental, but have been proven useful in adding to the optic nerve's ability to process in Take two pills with every meal with a full glass of water.

The doctor handed me a pair of specialised glasses, and we were on our way. For the next four days, I didn't notice any permanent changes to my eyesight, and my hopes for the surgery slowly dwindled. I desperately wanted once again to marvel at the stunning silhouettes I'd witnessed several days ago in the examination room. I was just about to lose hope. But two days before my last surgery, I received something far more valuable than colored shadows. I could now see full figured blurs of the objects around me. The different colorations, hues and shades, molded and compiled together to form the structures I'd lost sight for so long ago.

Gratified tears flooded my face as I looked around the room in awe. My unsteady hands coupled my eyes, exploring the objects around the room. My girlfriend watched on as I tinkered with things with my hands, pairing their name to their appearance. Although they were blurry, I could identify nearly everything in my house. I could even lay my eyes on my girlfriend's beautiful green eyes for the first time. We spent the entire day roaming the landscape of our neighbourhoods. The colours of our surroundings were more vibrant than I could ever have imagined. As my eyes scanned the area, a childlike curiosity pierced my thoughts,

and I began to wonder just how much my eyesight could improve. The day of my final surgery had finally arrived, and I felt like a chimp in a crowded zoo with a buttload of excrement. load of excrement. The doctor was captivated by my progression, feeling that the infrared lighting should cure the blurriness I was experiencing. The surgery itself took only 15 minutes. I was so excited to see the results that I didn't even flinch when the exo-whatever drug was administered into my eyelids. The doctor handed me one last bottle of pills and instructed me to wear prescription glasses until the blurriness faded away. Of course I had to buy them myself,

but I was given a nifty little 50% off coupon for my participation. Over the next few days, my sight began to drastically improve, and soon the blurriness that played my vision had finally dispersed. Soon, my sight was completely synonymous to 2020 vision. The water in the nearby Lake was a resplendent deep blue. The grass mirrored the vivid hues of freshly ripened apples. The surrounding buildings seemed to animate under the sun's puppeteering rays. With each passing day, my sight became sharper and more precise, eventually graduating to the point of alarming concern. About a month later, I awoke besieged by needle-like convulsion tormenting my irises.

Colours swirled into frenzied starbursts, turning the familiar pigments into indistinct tinctures. The immense pain forced my addled brain into a chokehold, causing pressurized bile to leak up my esophagus. My girlfriend watched in horror, as she hastily dialed the number to Dr. Slayton's office, a voicemail prompt greeting her on the other end. We both elected to hop into the car and drive there unannounced.

Upon arriving at the hospital, my mysterious ailment seemed to get worse by the second. My vision blurred, mangling the objects around me, clouding my eyes with disorienting tangles of extrinsic colors, creating ones I'd never even seen before. I collapsed to the floor, shrieks of excruciating pain burned from my throat and fluttered through the air. Nurses began to surround me, slowly inching closer,

most likely wary of my mental health. Can you explain what's wrong, sir? One of them managed to stammer out through trembling cords. It didn't take them long to realize my mental state wasn't the issue. Someone get a gurney. This man needs medical attention.

Fast. Somehow they managed to lift and strapped my reluctant body to a gurney and wheel me to the emergency room. My girlfriend walked alongside them, trying her best to explain the situation. Dr. Slayton, he hasn't worked in the medical field for over ten years. Are you sure it was him? I could hear the hesitation in my girlfriend's voice as she forced out the word yes. The nurse who wheeled me to the emergency room ordered one of the others to get in touch with Dr. Slayton.

in any way that they could. That didn't sit well with me. The nurses got to work, quickly putting me under the influence of anesthesia. Soon after, I blacked out. Waking again several hours later, my girlfriend stood at the edge of the bed. Tears fell like pouring rain down her pale cheeks.

She had a look of absolute terror sprawled across her face. Judging from the circumstances, I was afraid to pry, but I had to find out what she knew. Dr. Slayton was fired a long time ago for deadly practices with experimental chemicals. He was working here illegally during your surgeries.

I swear I didn't know when I told you about it. This is all my fault. I should have checked into it. I'm so sorry, Adam. I was speechless. I certainly didn't blame her, but hindsight hit me hard like a steel bat to the skull. Before I could say anything,

one of the nurses came in carrying a couple of papers in her hair. Something seemed a bit unusual about her. Her skin seemed to glow with a subtle orange tint. Small scale slithered up her arms in a really, rhythmic pattern. I was sure my eyes were playing a sick practical joke on me, so I dismissed the matter for now. Less than a minute later, her skin was back to normal. I'm sorry, but we couldn't get in touch with Dr. Slayton. It seems he's fled the country during your month of recovery from surgery. We were able to remove the place he inserted into your eyes, which was causing you the pain.

But it looks like some minor damage has already been done. We'll prescribe you with specialized eye drops, which should help reverse the damage. But considering we don't know the extent of the surgery, that's all we can do for now. We'll do a follow-up with you in the next couple of months. We thanked her for the help and fiddled through the paper she handed us before she left. I couldn't believe it.

According to the papers, Dr. Slayton had been arrested for two counts of unlawful use of experimental drugs. He was imprisoned for over seven years before getting out on a technicality. There's also speculation that he conducted the same experiment in two other hospitals. Over the next couple of weeks, my vision imploded into a disarray of jumbled colorations. I was sure that the minor damage to my eyes was ten times worse than the nurse had led on. Just like the incident in the hospital, I began to notice a change in people's appearance.

It started off as a minuscule distraction, appearing and then vanishing as soon as I took notice. Some had blistering sores covering their entire body. Others had flesh wounds that oozed black pole that dripped onto the sidewalks. It was horrifying. I couldn't so much as look at another person without being disgusted. The visions didn't last long at first. However, they managed to get worse as time went on. No matter where I went, the distorted features and abnormal physiques of the public seemed to follow.

Almost every single one of them looked as though they were trapped in a Halloween costume they couldn't get out of. The funny thing was, I seemed to be the only one who noticed. I knew it had to be a symptom of the surgery, but that didn't explain the reasoning behind it, or why I was experiencing them. I tried to get in touch with Dr. Slayton myself, although this task proved to be more than difficult. Even the aid of a private investigator didn't conjure up any results.

Trying to take my mind off the situation, I decided to use television as a distraction. The results of the surgery had not yet affected any of the shows I watched, so I figured it wouldn't hurt. Oh, how wrong I was. As I flipped through the channels, nearly every single person's appearance resembled that of a Lovecraftian monster. It wasn't until landing on the news that I discovered the reason behind their gruesome transformations. To no surprise, all of the criminals plastered over the news had the same distorted features as the others. But I began to notice a pattern within certain criminal behaviour. Thieves had burned and mutilated hands.

Rapists were covered in grotesque purple swords. murderers were soaked in dried blood it was daunting I put two and two together quickly realizing that I could now see everyone's true self I couldn't rip my eyes from the television the situation was more than impossible to comprehend after that

every trip from my house turned into a scavenger hunt I began taking mental notes of each characteristic, tallying them up and sorting them until they all fitted in neat little categories. A little brainstorming and I was able to gather conclusions for each of the features. Liars, rapists, cannibals, pedophiles. I could now identify each and every one of them. The most horrifying thing was the realization that most of those people were right outside my front door. I'd had some ounces of comfort when they only existed on TV,

but the violation of my safety forced my paranoia to skyrocket. I didn't leave my house much after that. I couldn't risk being stabbed in an alleyway or cooked up as a psycho's next meal. My girlfriend became increasingly worried for my health and wanted to make another appointment at the hospital. But I stopped her. I had known for a long while now. I'd long since seen the changes in her features.

I just couldn't bring myself to confront her. Her skin had turned a faded blue hue. Burn marks and scars littered across her body. I knew exactly what that meant. Prostitute. How could so many live their lives through latent veils, while wearing masks of artificial personas? It was so easy for them to hide their true selves in a world so manufactured that it frightened me. How many others were there? How many can claim truth to the personage they paraded?

The more I contemplated the idea, the more my fear turned to rage. What right did they have to hide themselves, while so many others tried desperately to live honest lives? What gave them the right to strip me and so many others of their credulous havens of ignorance? I wanted to rid the world of its evils, to revive the safety I'd felt when I was a child, when I was blind. my girlfriend's flaccid body laid in bed as I quietly left my house I hopped into my car tightly gripping the steering wheel

staring down at the blood-stained hands as I started the ignition A final macabre story this evening is The Serpent Man of White Hollow Road A story by Ghost Beezer It was a Friday night during the first week of a four-week remodeling job in a rather remote house. I was working with a few other guys, six in all, most of whom were from farther out of town than I was. They decided to spend the duration of the job, about a month, living at the house.

I, however, decided that the drive back to Pittsburgh wasn't far enough to keep me in the old, empty house all weekend. One of the workers, a man named Jim, who was friends with the man that had recently purchased the house, happened to live in the area. He gave me directions, which he said would shave half an hour off of my drive-time. But they went through the mountains. I had no intention of following these directions, deciding instead to be safe and stick with the way I already knew. However, that night when it was time to leave, all of the men were sitting out on the front porch

of the house, facing the narrow driveway. Jim gave me a brief verbal recap of the directions as I made my way down the front steps and to my car. Pulling out of the driveway with Jim watching, I felt obligated to go left, the way his directions led rather than right, which was the way I had. knew. As I headed out onto the dark forest road, with the trees crowding in on all sides, I told myself that I'd just drive a few minutes down the road, turn around and then go the other way. I realized, however, that Jim and the other guys would see me then, and damn my foolish pride.

I didn't want that. I resolved to give the directions a shot. The direction said that after about 20 minutes of driving, I would come to a huge, squat, little tree, which leaned across the road at an intersection with a tiny dirt road. After about 30 minutes, I came across the sight, both relieving and horrifying at the same time. On my right, the tree tore out of the ground, a huge gnarled trunk with long, crooked fingers, like a rotted corpse, reaching out of the grave to strangle whatever it could get its hands on. Accordingly, the trees on the other side of the road, that the corpse tree seemed determined to get in its twisted bony grasp,

all shied away from the road, as if recoiling in horror. Wharily, I made the right at the intersection, onto the dirt road. The way was more grass than dirt. For the most part, it was two tyre tracks worn through a side, section of the forest, in which the trees had been cut back of it, likely long ago. It was a cart path, more sorted to a horse-drawn buggy than my 2000 corolla. According to the directions, I was only to be on the trail for ten to fifteen minutes. After only a few minutes, however, the path became somewhat treacherous.

In the tyre tracks there began to appear deep ruts, some filled with water, I had to slow down to avoid damaging my car, but still go fast enough that I wouldn't get stuck in the mud. I carefully crept along through this terrible trail, the tall grass hissing like a deadly snake on the underside of the car. I could almost feel its breath on my feet. Every once in a while, a tree branch would reach out and run a finger along the side of the car, joining in with the hissing. These woods were poisonous. Suddenly, something flashed in front of the car, darting from one side of the narrow path to the other,

briefly illuminated in the headlights. It jerked along the ground as if it were being dragged all. Like a snake even. A huge white snake. With the face of a human. I couldn't believe it. I didn't dare. Did I really see that? I could have sworn that, for an instant, an incredibly brief instant. I had locked eyes with something human. As the thing, whatever it was, erupted from the brush along the roadside, I instinctively slammed on the brakes.

Now, my mind was reeling at the thought of what my eyes believed they'd seen. I didn't see much of the body, and couldn't understand how it moved across the road in such a manner. But whatever it was had certainly been looking at me, straight into my eyes. Had it been laughing? My mind was numb. I didn't even realize that I'd stop the car. until I heard the knocking. It came once, three distinct wraps on the driver's side of the car, near the rear tire,

just a few feet behind my left shoulder. I wasn't even aware I'd heard it at first. I was so dazed. But then it came again, and I was forced to notice. A long silence followed, and then something. and then something bumped along on the underneath of the car. The sound reverberating through my feet, along with the sound like the hissing of the grass.

But this time the car wasn't moving. Car is still. I told myself, suddenly aware that, indeed, something was happening around me. I led off the brake and punched the gas. The tires spun in the mud, getting no traction, and my throat began to swell. But the car eventually lurched forward.

As I sped off, I looked into the rear-view mirror to see what looked like a pair of white feet, toes pointing down and hanging limp, being dragged into the woods. I continued forward. It had now been well past 15 minutes, but I told myself, that was due to the slow goings at first. As it was now, I was going much too fast, the car bouncing and lurching, and I was surely soon emerge onto the paved road I was told was at the end of this nightmare. The car leapt and crashed to the earth over and over, banging in and out of ditches. Mud was splattered all over the car, to the point I could barely see how the side windows. I would definitely need an alignment after this. Obviously, I'd considered

turning around and getting the hell out of there, several times damning my foolish pride. But at first, there'd been nowhere to turn around. The road was too narrow. And now, even if there had been somewhere to turn around, I wasn't stopping for anything. My heart fluttered with hope when I noticed a horizontal band of silver cutting across the path up ahead. The road, I said to myself, and continued barreling forward. But relief turned to despair as I neared the wall of false hope. I buried the pedal and plunged headlong into the thick bank of fog. My headlights refracted amongst the moist air.

enshrouding me in an aura of luminescence. The fog crashed by like ocean waves as I swam blindly through the sea of mist. For what felt like an eternity, I seemed to glide through the ocean of white. The road was suddenly smooth, and I could no longer feel the ground jostling the car through my feet. The fog was no longer crashing past me, but instead, Instead seemed to slowly swirl about the car in a way that contradicted the speed at which I was travelling. For one fleeting moment I was overcome with a feeling of weightlessness as if I were floating

out of the swirling mists in front of the car a shape began to form. It was white and at first it seemed only part of the fog. But as it grew closer, it was clear that whatever it was, it was solid. As the shape emerged, it took on a human form, silhouetted in ivory against the grey smokescreen. The body of a man was suspended in front of me, the mist swirling about him in lazy circles. He was naked, and his body was completely. white, except where there were scrapes and streaks of blood. He hung limp as if he were strung up by the noose, though I could see no rope. His back was to me, as was his face, on a head twisted

completely around. His eyes looked directly into mine, as his longed head slowly lifted. and his fat, swollen lips curled up into a wicked, mocking smile. As soon as the image became clear, once I acknowledged what I was looking at, it was like something clicked. The fog sped by once more, the ground rumbled through my feet,

and, abruptly, the car slammed into a ditch that must have been three feet deep. The initial impact, smashed my face off of the steering wheel and I lost control of the car if I'd had it to begin with. It was the tree that I ran into next which rendered me unconscious. I awoke to the knocking of the engine, accompanied by the hissing of some unknown vehicular component. The car was smashed from what I could see, although with the fog and now the smoke from the smoke from the engine. That wasn't much. Needles of pain jabbed through my eyeballs and into the

back of my skull. It only grew worse when I tried to sit up. Once I managed that, I found myself sitting on the passenger side of the car with the bitter taste of blood flooding my mouth. The knocking of the engine had died, and the hissing was now little more than a whisper. like the roar of a distant waterfall. Eventually that too died out. The silence grew louder as I pushed myself up further in the seat, my back to the passenger door. Then, with a stabbing pain,

the memory of what I had seen shot back into my brain. I swallowed hard, nearly gagging on my own warm blood, and gazed into the deep fog that surrounded me. I felt the need to flee, to run as hard and as fast as I could. But I was dizzy, and my ankle felt as if it might be broken, so I slammed on the doorlocks instead.

Even if I'd been physically able to run, I wasn't about to risk running blindly through the shroud of grey. With that... With that demon out. For what, else could it be? As if in answer to my thoughts, the knocking started again. At first I tried to believe it was the engine letting out another death rattle. How I hoped and prayed that were the case. But it was too loud, too deliberate, and I could feel the vibrations in my back. Something was knocking on.

the door. Three slow, firm, knocks. I leapt across the car into the driver's seat and my head swooned from the effort. As I turned to face the passenger door, I thought I heard a low, raspy cackle disturbed the great silence of the grey void outside. The sound faded as quickly as it had begun, leaving me doubting whether or not I truly heard it. I held my breath and listened intently to the night. I believe I closed my eyes and prayed that what I'd heard was only in my imagination. A period of inimitable silence followed, a dreadful, unnerving silence. my senses were so sharp at that moment that I could have heard a whisper miles off.

The silence stretched on and on, and just as I'd begun to hope that all was well and truly still, a strange sound slithered into existence. It started as a slow ticking noise, and the hair on my neck stood on end as it grew louder and faster, until it sounded like the warning of a rattlesnake. I clenched my teeth as the horrible sound buzzed through my brain, with my eyes clenched shut. I listened as the rattle, mere feet away. It became a low, raspy voice that whispered a single word. delicious. The voice sounded as though it came from within the car,

and with a start I opened my eyes. I was struck with terror. Across the car, looking at me through the mud-spattered passenger window was the snow-white face of an insane-looking man. His hungry eyes bulged with excitement from his bald, moon-like face. the bottom of which stretched into a maniacal black grin like a huge crater.

A long white tongue flicked out of that dank cavernous hole, licking at the window, smearing mud up and down. He watched me with cold, unblinking eyes, like a hawk watching its prey. Suddenly, his hands press away. against the glass on either side of his face, and I thought he meant to break the window. It was the backs of his hands placed against the glass, even though his face was towards me, and I watched as he pushed himself to his feet, staring at me until I could no longer see

his face above the window. His bare back and buttocks were now exposed to me. The skin, white like ivory seemed to glow long dirty lacerations extended the length of his backside i watched as he slowly turned towards me the front much the same as the back with a loud thud the man's hand if it could be called a man grasped for the handle of the car door i heard him let out a rattle of frustration when he found it locked. Again and again, he yanked at the handle, so hard that the car began to shake. I shut my eyes and covered my ears, terrified of what would happen if it managed to get into the car. I sat there shaking from fright and from the motion of the car, listening to the rattle, from his breath, and from the breath. And from the shock. the door handle clacking back and forth. After an eternity of rocking and rattling, I could take no

more. I led out a shout with all the strength I could muster. The exertion, paired with my previously suffered injuries, caused me to go light-headed and nearly black out. When I regained my senses, the car was still and the rattling had stopped. I looked up to see the thing, whatever it was, stalking off into the fog, its back to me. Atop its shoulders, bulging eyes stared from my head completely twisted around. As it disappeared into the fog, it gave me a final wicked grin. Just as it vanished, the fog erupted into a swirling ball of light.

I looked through the rear window to see a pair of lights floating through the fog. The muffled sound of an engine eventually reached my ears, and soon I saw the truck emerge from the mist. It was the men I'd been working with all week, the men from the house. They pulled me safely from my total car and loaded me into the truck Straight away I was taken to the hospital and treated for a concussion A fractured ankle and a couple of cracked ribs

I was told to stay home from work for three to four weeks For the ribs As my job involved physical labour at the time And that is what I did But while I sat at home recuperating and not doing much else. I got to thinking a lot about that night, particularly the ride back out of the woods

and to the hospital. It seemed to me that the other guys were quite nervous, and though I wasn't paying much attention at all, their conversation on the way back seemed to suggest that they might know a thing or two about what had transpired. I didn't know any of the men from outside of that job and didn't have any of their numbers or a way to contact them, nor did any of them stick around to speak to me at the hospital. So, in what was to be the

final week of work on the house, I got in my mother's car and took a ride. I found the men there working, and when they saw me, everyone grew quiet and stopped what they were doing. Jim gave a solemn nod, slowly approach me, and asked that I wait on the porch and let them finish, and then we could talk. The sun was setting by the time the men came out,

each of them looking somber and guilty. It wasn't supposed to happen like that, said Jim. I didn't understand. What wasn't? I asked. That night, the accident, we never meant for anything like that to happen. How could we have known?

I don't understand. How could you have known what? Why don't you start from the beginning? And so, he did. The night of the accident, Jim and the other guys had planned a little prank for me. The idea was for Jim to send me down the old, creepy road, which they refer to as White Hollow Road, which may or may not be its official name, and have Greg, one of the guys we'd worked with, lay in the road and pretend to be dead,

or jump out in a mask, or some such nonsense, in an attempt to scare me the new guy. Where is Greg anyway? I asked, realising I'd not seen him since before I left on the night of the accident. The men again shot each other somber and guilty looks. He never came back, Jim answered. They'd sent him out to wait for me in the woods that night, and he hadn't been seen since. Greg had a radio with him, which he was using to communicate with the guys. In his last transmission, Greg said he could see a body hanging from a tree. Then, He said that it was coming after him. The final transmission had ended in a gut-wrenching cry of terror,

before going dead. That was the last they'd heard from him. Shortly after that, the men went to look for Greg, but instead found me. You saw it too, didn't you? Jim asked me. I nodded. You were mumbling on the way to the hospital.

Demon, you said. Snake demon. I swallowed hard, remembering the thing's evil grin as it disappeared into the fog. Now, we thought it was just a story. Jim said, how could we know it was true? And so, Jim told me the story of the serpent man of White Hollow Road.

He told me about the evil-looking tree I'd passed, and how it had been the sight of innumerable lynchings in the early to mid-1900s. He told me of how the perpetrators of these lynchings would paint their black victims skin white, so that they might go before the Lord in proper fashion. He told me of one particular man who had a love of snakes, and as such was deemed an agent of the devil, for which, along with the colour of his skin, he was condemned to die. The noose was placed around his neck, and the rope tossed up and over one thick branch of the gnarled tree. The other end was tied to the hitch on the back of a pickup truck.

then, as they had done so many times before, the mob of lunatics cheered as the man was hoisted into the air, spinning and kicking his legs while clutching at his throat, as if to tear it open. This time was different, however. Unlike with their previously committed atrocities, this time the serpent man did not die. well not right away for several minutes he hung there with his legs pumping one after the other and his hands clawing at his throat foam throft forth from his white lips as he hissed like the snakes he so loved crowd grew angry and shouted at him to die but he still refused One of the mob grew so furious that he jumped into the truck and slammed on the gas.

The serpent man jerked upward with a sickening crack of his neck. The driver kept the pedal down, yanking the poor man through the tight elbow of the tree, where his neck snapped clean in half and his head spun upon his shoulders. His body was completely shattered as it was hauled through the gauntlet of tree branches. and then to the ground below. But the driver did not stop there. He drove for several miles down the road called White Hollow, the battered corpse dragging and bouncing behind him,

occasionally swinging out to the side to be smashed off a tree. Afterwards, the driver stopped somewhere down the road, untied the pulverized body, and left it to rot in the wood. uninterred. Shortly thereafter, many of the mob would turn up dead along that road, and soon the lynchings, at least in this area, had stopped. Every so often they'll find a body on the roads. But, hey, it's a dangerous road, things happen. We never actually thought the stories were true, Jim told me.

I couldn't believe what I'd heard. I was a little bit in shock, but I had heard him, heard his voice. The way he'd said those last few words gave me the impression that his opinion had changed. And now? I asked him. The men looked around at each other, and then back to me. And now, Jimson. said. Now we know. The night of the wreck, after they dropped me off of the hospital, they headed back towards the road to search for Greg. They passed the house they were working on

and continued on towards White Hollow. About halfway there, a thin fog had begun to rise off the ground. As they approached the hanging tree, they could see something in the road ahead. It was a man, a white man, bright white with a glow like the moon. His bloody, lacerated back was to them, but atop his shoulders his face stared at them, huge eyes bulging with excitement and dark, black mouth, grinning in amusement. In front of him, while he stared on at the men, unblinking. his hands pumped up and down it was then Jim said that he saw the rope in the monster's hands his eyes followed the cord up into the tree to the other end

which was firmly encircled around Greg's neck as his limp body was hoisted up into the tree the men fled back to the house None of them had spoken of it until now, but they'd all lived in fear since. Greg's body was never found, despite several searches of the road and surrounding woods by the local police. I shouldn't have to tell you which way I turned out at the driveway that night, and I don't think any of the men ever use that road again. And so once again, reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you.

Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.