Snook - 5 Unhinged Scary Stories

Episode Date: December 27, 2025

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Hey, what's up guys, and welcome back to another scary stories video. And today I've got five unhinged scary stories for you. And all of these are scary and really, really good. I love all five of these stories. They're super entertaining. And I'm sure you guys will love them too. And thanks so much for stopping by. And before we get into the stories, please like the video and subscribe to the channel.

It's the channel's goal to be at 500,000 subscribers. So please subscribe. And I think we can do it kind of soon. So, yeah, subscribe and join the community. I appreciate you all. And all right, without further ado, let's get into five unhinged scary stories. I found a priest diary from 1910. The contents of it haunt me to this day.

I've been working for the cleaning company for a couple of years now, and you see some weird stuff, but nothing compares to what happened at the old Fisher House. The memory of that day still crawls under my skin. And sometimes I wonder if I'll ever shake the feeling that someone is watching me. something dark. It started like any other job. Mrs. Fisher had passed away a few weeks ago, and her family wanted the place cleaned up so they could sell it.

The house was big, a dusty old thing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by thick woods that seemed to swallow up the sunlight. It was one of those places that immediately felt wrong the moment you stepped inside. The air was stale, thick with the smell of rot and neglect. Every step I took on the creaky wooden floors echoed through the empty rooms. The only other sound being the wind outside rattling the broken windows. I started in the living room, wiping down furniture and sweeping the floor, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling

that had settled in my gut. It was one in of the upstairs rooms where I found it, a small, leather-bound diary tucked under a loose floorboard. The diary looked ancient, the pages yellowed and brittle. The leather cracked from age. At first, I didn't think that it. I didn't think that the same. I didn't think much of it. Maybe it was just some old family keepsake. But when I opened it, something changed in the air around me. The first page was written in shaky, old-fashioned handwriting, dated July 12, 1910. It was signed by a priest named Father Augustine. His words were strange, like he was documenting something terrible that had happened. In Nome, Patrice, et Philei, and Spiritu Sancti. I write this to recount the horrors that befill the village of St. Cuthbert, for my soul will

never rest until the truth is known. I kept reading, feeling a shiver crawl up my spine. It began with the children. Their laughter twisted into screams and their eyes. Their eyes turned black as night. One by one they fell to the curse, speaking in tongues, writhing like serpents upon the ground. At first we thought it was a sickness, but it was not. not of this world. It was the work of the devil himself. The room suddenly felt colder and I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting to see someone standing behind me but the house was empty. I was alone. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to keep reading. I was called to the village when the first child died. Her body twisted in unnatural ways. Her mouth open in a silent scream.

The villagers whispered of demons of something unholy that had come to our land. I did not believe them. I was a man of God. I was a fool. The first exorcism failed. Duce in auditorium, mum intende. The words of the ritual did nothing. The child laughed, a laugh that was not her own.

She spoke to me in the voice of a thousand serpents, mocking God, mocking my faith, and then she died, her body turning cold and stiff in my arms. I slammed the book shut, my heart racing, something was wrong. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, a creeping sense of dread that was getting harder to ignore. But I couldn't stop myself. I had to know more. I opened the diary again, flipping through the pages. The priest's handwriting grew more frantic as the entries went on. His Latin prayer scattered throughout the text, as if he was desperately trying to cling to his faith. I have seen the face of evil.

It wears the skin of the innocent, but its soul is black. The demon is no longer in one body. It moves through the village like a plague. Corrupting. Consuming. I tried to perform another exorcism tonight. It went wrong. So very wrong.

Demones me circumdedderant. The demon was strong. stronger than I could have imagined. It spoke my name. It knew me. It taunted me, saying it had been waiting for me. I could feel its presence in the room, crawling beneath my skin, filling the air with its stench. Suddenly I heard a soft creek behind me. I jumped, the diary slipping from my hands and falling to the floor. I whipped around, my heart in my throat, but the room was still empty. The shadows seemed to shift, though moving in ways that didn't feel right. It was like something was here with me. I picked up the diary again, my hand shaking,

I wanted to stop reading, but something was pulling me in, like the words had a power of their own. I flipped to the last entry, dated October 31st, 1910. The village is lost. The demon has claimed them all. Men, women, children. It moves through them like a plague, leaving only death and madness in wake. I hear its voice in my sleep now. It whispers to me, calls to me. I know what I must do. This is no longer a battle of faith. This is survival. I will confront it tonight. Fiat voluntua's tua. If these are my last words, let it be known that I fought, though I fear I fight in vain. The last line was written in shaky, barely legible script. I hear it now. It is coming for me. As soon as I finished reading, the wind outside picked up.

Howling against the windows, the house groaned, the floorboards creaking as if something heavy was moving through the halls. My breath came in short, panicked bursts, and every instinct told me to run, but my legs wouldn't move. Then the whispers started. They were soft at first, like the wind slipping through cracks in the walls. But they grew louder, more incessant. Words I couldn't understand, spoken in a language that made my sense. skin crawl, the same language that Father Augustine had written in. Demones ad te venute. The room seemed to darken, the shadows stretching across the walls, twisting and writhing

like something alive. My heart pounded in my chest and I backed toward the door, clutching the diary like it was my only lifeline. But then I saw it. In the corner of the room, barely visible in the dim light. A figure stood. It was tall. Its skin pale and stretched tight over its bones. Its eyes black and empty. It didn't move. But I could feel its gaze on me, cold and malevolent. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment I was frozen in place, unable to look away from the thing in the corner. Then it smiled. The smile stretched impossibly wide, to split in its face in half, revealing rows of sharp, blackened teeth. And then it spoke, its voice, a low, guttural, rasp that seemed to echo inside my head. Fiat, volentous, tua. I bolted. I ran faster than I've ever run before,

down the stairs, through the darkened halls, out the front door. I didn't stop until I was in my car, slamming the door behind me, and fumbling for the keys. The house loomed in the rearview mirror as I sped away, its dark windows staring after me like eyes. I never went back to the Fisher House. I quit my job the next day, moved to a new town, tried to forget everything I've read in that diary. But I can't shake the feeling that something followed me. The whispers still come at night,

creeping into the edges of my dreams, filling my mind with dark, ancient words that I don't understand. And right now, as I'm writing this, I feel like I'm being watched. Like there's something standing in the corner of the room. smiling. I hear it now. It is coming for me. My neighbors won't stop having kids. James slid his fingers down my waist and tucked them into my back pocket, bending over to kiss me on the cheek. We stood like that in our freshly manicured front lawn, watching the movers carry our furniture

up the front steps and into our new home. In our old apartment, on the outskirts of the city, that furniture had felt large and compact like a can of sardines. It was difficult to even maneuver to the frigid back. Here, in the suburbs, where every house was a cream-colored cookie cutter copy of each other, it would feel like dollhouse decor. I took James by the wrist, removing his hand from my backside, and giving him a coy smile. Our honeymoon phase hadn't really ever ended,

not since we started dating, and definitely not since our wedding. I don't think it ever would. Is this too much, I asked, resting my head on his shoulder? It'll feel so empty with just the two of us. For now, he muttered, and I could feel him smiling. We had never even really discussed our family, just because it felt so implied. We could always just read each other's mind like that. I knew he wanted kids as soon as possible, but I also knew he knew I wanted to wait a little longer,

and he respected that. It was inevitable, but not a priority. I looked around. I always found neighborhoods like this one a little creepy. They felt simulated and devoid of actual life, but not this one. Somehow, even though the houses were the same, each felt different. The home to our left appeared empty with a colorful for sale sign on the lawn, but the one to our right was lively.

The windows were adorned with pink bright flowers, overflowing from their pots, and the yard was sprinkled to children's toys. Even now there were kids outside. A young boy who appeared around 12 years of age pushing a younger girl on a yellow swing set. Their laughter filled the air. Hello, a cheerful voice called, and I turned to see a woman marching towards us with a gleaming smile on her face. She was beautiful and young, maybe around my age, with blonde hair tied up in a pristine ponytail. Her pants fit her perfectly, accentuating her feminine curves, and her blouse was bunched up around her pregnant stomach.

I felt myself subconsciously crossed my arms, insecure. Hello, my husband replied. Bring me out of my days. I realized the woman was holding a dish wrapped in tinfoil and steaming. You're the new neighbors, I presume. She asked, her smile only brightening, revealing her perfectly white teeth. Yes, I said, not wanting her to think I was rude. I'm Adeline.

This is James. We're so excited. This is such a lovely neighborhood. as are we. My husband and I were so pleased to hear a young couple was moving in. It really is the perfect place to raise a family, she said knowingly, glancing at her children and then back at us. Oh, we don't have kids, I said, a nervous laugh bubbling up in my throat. Oh, she exclaimed. Her smile seemed to falter, but almost as if it were a glitch. It was so brief. She held out the dish in her hands. Tuna casserole. James took it from her, peeling back some of the teeth.

tinfoil and taken whiff. Smells delicious. We never caught your name, I said, leaning into my husband's side. You are? The woman opened her mouth, but no words came out. I waited for her to answer. Honey? A gruff voice called from the neighbor's doorway. It seemed almost unnaturally loud, not as if he was yelling, but like his voice was amplified somehow. The woman smiled at us again apologetically. I must be going, she said. resting her hands on the stomach, we will have to get together sometime. James and I only had the time to nod before she was turning away, walking quickly back towards who I assumed must be her husband.

I saw something move on the second floor of the house, baby blue curtains parting. I looked up and met the eyes of two more children. They appeared to be twin girls, maybe four or five. One of them waved. The other just stared. Embarrassingly enough, we didn't get to eat the casserole until several days later. Those days were full of hauling heavy boxes from our car and putting everything where it belonged.

And my ears still rung with the sound of drills as I took the baking dish out from the freezer to thaw. It'll be nice to eat something other than takeout, James said, sitting at our kitchen table and resting his head in his hands. Yeah, I replied, but I'm not sure how I feel about two-day-old tuna. I walked over, nudging him with my hip. He pulled out his chair, guiding me down on his lap and wrapping his arms around my waist. There was so much excitement in the air as we were. we had set up our new home, but I felt like he hadn't had any time to settle in yet. I had barely been alone with him in any meaningful way. It was the first time since our wedding day that we hadn't

been all over each other. He pressed his mouth against my collarbone, trailing his lips up my neck into my ear. I felt a giggle rise in my chest, running my fingers through his slightly oily hair. Once the last time he showered, I teased, and I felt him laugh against my skin. I was waiting for you, my love. I smiled. You're disgusting. We'd better hurry up and eat then. The oven dinged, letting me know it was preheated. It took everything in me to get up off James. Right as my fingers wrapped down the handle, my other hand reaching for the casserole, I heard something. I froze, tilting my head towards the window. The night was warm and still. I could see warm yellow light glowing in the neighbor's windows, a perfect caricature. Did you hear that? My husband didn't

seemed to be paying attention, fiddling with a loose leg of his chair. What do you mean? I thought I heard something. Before I could dismiss it as a delusion, it came again. It was a sound like a cat with its tails being stomped on, a faint yet blood-curdling screech. I looked closer at the house, but nothing seemed to miss. There was an even louder moaning sound, and then another scream, far clear with this time. What was that, James asked, now standing? I shook my head. I have no idea. Maybe the neighbors are watching a movie? A crash and another scream.

Something moved in one of the windows and then the curtains were yanked shut. Should I go and check? I can do it. My husband shifted nervously. I shook my head. He would do it, but I knew he didn't want to. He had always been skittish, especially at night. I'll go.

I grabbed an oven mitt and tossed it at him. Hit his chest and fell to the floor. Put in the casserole. I'll be right back. The night fell. I felt even more quiet when I stepped outside, almost eerily so. The air felt so heavy and still, like I was standing inside of a panting on a street. My footsteps echoed against the pavement, and I tensed each time another scream rang out from the house.

What the hell I muttered? Half out of curiosity and half just to hear a human voice? I knocked on the front door three times, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. I was already starting to regret coming over here, feeling silencing. for disturbing their night if it really was nothing. Even their porch was pristine, the white paint looked fresh, and even the dolls and toy cars strewn against the railing looked organized. I heard footsteps, and the front door opened a crack. I caught a glimpse of a man's face, his Shaw square and dusted with stubble. Good evening, Adeline. He greeted me.

Hi, I said, my voice coming out far softer than I meant for to. Good evening, I, uh, I thought I heard something. Is everything okay? He hesitated, then smiled. It looked a little forced. He opened the door wider and I had to stop myself from flinching. His white button down was stained with flecks of blood, bright red and fresh. There was a child clinging to his pant leg, a little boy that I didn't recognize.

Everything is all right, he told me. Tussling the boy's hair absentmindedly. My wife is just going into labor. Oh, I exclaimed, blinking at him in shock. He seemed incredibly calm considering these circumstances. Should we call someone an ambulance? No. He said quickly, his smile fading the tiniest bit.

No, that's quite all right. Thank you for your concern. This isn't reverse rodeo, so to speak. He chuckled stiffly. Oh, okay. Well, tell her congratulations. We'll do. He seemed to look me up and down in a shrew.

shiver creeped up my spine. Well, have a lovely night, and we're so happy you moved in. He went to close the door on me, turning away, but at the last second, the little boy shoved his hand through the crack. A piece of notebook paper fluttered to the slats of the porch, and the door closed with a sharp click. I picked up the piece of paper, somewhat stunned as another scream ricocheted inside my head. I unfolded it slowly, holding it under the porch light, in squinting to make out what the shaky scratches of red crayon read. Mommy makes lots of babies. Smiley face.

It was only a week later that I got a call on the house phone. I was in the bath and I ran to the kitchen. A towel wrapped around my waist and my hair dripping warm water down my back. Hello? I said into the receiver clutching the phone with both hands. Someone I already knew who it would be. Hello, Adeline. Her voice was just as cheerful as it had been the first day we'd moved in,

like a jingling bell hanging from the door of a shop. How are you, dear? I'm fine, I replied. My eyebrows clenching into an involuntary frown. How are you? How's the baby? What? She sounded genuinely confused, but only for a second.

Oh, oh, the baby's fine. Such a miracle of life, isn't it? Yes, such a miracle. That's amazing. I'm so happy for you. Yes, so listen, I was hoping you and your husband would come by tonight for a little dinner party. I made tuna casserole. Please, please say you will. I swallowed. Something about her was beginning to unnerve me, something about how perky she was only days after

labor, but I still don't want to be rude. And it wasn't like I didn't like her. I didn't want to pass up any friends, especially when they live just next door. Of course, I said, hoping she could hear my polite smile. We'll be there. I clutched my tubbaware of cookies tightly to my chest as James guided me up to the front steps. I prayed they wouldn't be able to tell they were store-bought, although I was sure they wouldn't say anything even if they did. James knocked on the door, then tutted and picked at some chipped white paint next to the peephole. Looks like they needed a no paint job out here.

Maybe I should offer. Babe, that's rude, I told him. A strange feeling twisting in my stomach. Something was off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Our neighbor threw open the door, beaming at us. She was wearing a pink flowery dress and a white apron. I'm so glad you could make it. Come on in.

Everyone's waiting in the dining room. I couldn't help but stare at her stomach, which seemed almost as large as it had been the day we'd met. I glanced at my husband, but he didn't seem to have noticed anything and only smiled at me reassuringly. Admittedly, I didn't know as much as I could about childbirth, but I knew your stomach stayed large for at least a few days. Surely her body just hadn't recovered yet.

Their dining room was larger than ours, or maybe that was just the way it was decorated. It was minimal. The only personal items I could see were more toys. At their long dining table, there were six play sets. A little girl sat at one of them, quietly playing with a Barbie doll, and a teenager sat next to her scowling at us. I didn't recognize either of them.

This couple seemed so young. How could they have a teenager already? Some people started early, I guess. I'd assume dinner party meant there would be more people, but I felt guilty for assuming that. They were so eager to spend time with us. Maybe they just didn't have many other friends, especially with so many children running around.

Across from the kids sat her husband, grinning at us. I blinked. He didn't look how I remembered him. Hadn't her husband been a brunette? This man's hair was a lighter brown, almost a dirty blonde, and his face seemed softer. It must have been the lighting, I told myself. Surely, in the dark, his features had just looked bleak and more severe.

The woman immediately started bustling around in the kitchen, and James and I took our seat. seats. I stared at the glass of wine already sat in front of me, the dark red liquid reminded me of suddenly of that night, of the blood splattered across the man's shirt. James began chatting up the husband, but I can't bring myself to keep up. I just stared into the glass, swirling the wine around, watching it lap up against the rim. It was so dark, almost black. We didn't even know these people's names. Were we so rude that we had never asked? Was that a bug? I did my finger into my wine and fished out a small fly, still buzzing desperately. Looking around quickly,

I flicked it off my finger into the ground, not wanting to embarrass our hosts. Such a lovely home, James was saying, and I smiled and nodded as if I had been listening. Yes, I butt in, and then hesitated. Forgive me, but I've forgotten your name. The man's grin didn't falter. Joseph, he said happily. No need to apologize. I'm Joseph. And your wife? Dinner is served, the woman called, interrupted me. She wielded a large dish, which gave off a faint, fishy aroma, setting it down with a flourish in the center of the table. Thank goodness, I'm starving.

Joseph tucked in his napkin into his shirt and picked up his fork in his knife, clutching them in both hands cartoonishly. I looked at James, searching for any semblance of confusion. I found none, only a polite smile. This is the children's favorite dish, she told us, taking my husband's plate. How many kids do you have? Here you are, love, she said, scooping a helping of casserole onto his plate and reaching over

to me to set it down in front of him. As she leaned over me, I caught a glimpse of her face. Her skin seemed to glisten around her eyes like it was wet. Growing boys need to eat. James chuckled nervously. The first hint I'd gotten of anything amiss. As what I keep telling Adeline. Joseph laughed uproarishly, pounding his fist on the table.

I caught the teenager jump, and the little girl sat down her Barbie. but I couldn't decipher the expression on either of their faces. A man of my own heart, he cried, and he didn't stop laughing. What did he bring us? The woman asked after a moment, nodding at the Tupperware, having to raise her voice to be heard of her husband's laughter, I swallowed. Chocolate chip cookies. Lovely. I gazed down at the food she put in front of me.

It smelled even fissier up close. Nothing like the first one she'd given us. I picked up my fork, picking at a flaky corner, a fish bone. stung to the prongs, long and slender and sharp. I hope you'll eat it all, the woman said to me. Leaning over so close her blonde curls tumbled onto my shoulder, she smelled of perfume and faintly of fish. Now that she was close to me, I could see clearly that her face was, in fact, wet.

You simply must get used to eating for two. After that dinner, it wasn't that I was avoiding them, but I didn't make much of an effort to get closer. I felt deeply uncomfortable in a way that I didn't quite like to think about. Even so I told myself it wasn't them. We just had gotten busy. James had started his new job in the city, starting construction on a new shopping mall,

and I had a big interview coming up. I simply didn't have too much time to think about our neighbors. Not that they didn't make it difficult not to, neither of us had gotten much sleep anymore. The sound of a baby crying kept us up and made us restless. They baffled me during the day too. One Monday before James had gotten home, I noticed a man out in the yard,

playing with a few children. He was chasing them around the swings, around and around, and they were shrieking with glee. My curiosity got the better of me. Was this an uncle, a babysitter? I knew little to nothing about this family, and I figured that was just unnerving me so much. Maybe if I knew more, I'd feel comfortable living next to him.

Before I could stop myself, I walked out, watching them play for another moment before speaking. Hi, I called out, and all four of them turned to me. Hello, I'm Adeline. I live next door. Sorry to be nosy. I was just wondering, how are you related to the family? The man smiled at me just like the rest of them, widely. Up close, he looked even older, maybe in his 40s. He must be a relative of some sort. Don't be sorry, Adeline. I'm their son. We've been so happy they moved in. After that, I put even more distance between myself and the neighbors. I was sure there was a logical explanation for all of this, but if I thought too hard about it, I thought too hard about it. I was just to be able to be able to be. I was sure. I was sure there was a logical explanation for all of this, but if I thought too hard about it. I was. I was. I was to it, I felt like my brain would explode. A couple of nights later, James had had enough. That's it, he muttered against my shoulder, squeezing me from behind. I'm going over there. I groaned, rolling over and pressing our noses together. Even with my eyes crossed, I could see his dark circles, and his hair stuck up wildly from tossing and turning. Don't, honey, I whispered, my voice raspy. It's okay. It's not

their fault. Surely they can do something, he argued, gently running his fingers through my hair his abrasive tone. Jesus, it's almost louder with the windows closed. How many babies do they have over there anyways? I paused and thought about this question, and I listened. I didn't realize, but he was right. The crying didn't sound like one infant. It sounded like a whole chorus. I can do it if you want, I muttered, but he shook his head. No, it's okay. I'll go. You went last time. He pulled back the covers and got to his feet, reaching for his pants next to the bedside table. I sat up and watched him get dressed. And once he said, he had kissed me and walked downstairs, I stood up to peer blearily through the bedroom window.

It was a rainy night in the night. The first rainwood scenes since moving in. It made the neighbor's house look much older than it was, almost like a haunted house. In the darkness and the storm, it almost looked dilapidated. I watched my husband tread through the mud, smiling at how goofy looked carrying our purple umbrella. I watched him march up the front steps, shaking the water off of himself, and knocking on the front door. I remember it so vividly. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream. I remember him knocking and then so quickly it was unnatural. The front door opened. I didn't see who was behind it, but I saw a bright flash of light and her deafening gunshot and my husband fell to the floor. His chest was eviscerated, blood and guts spewed out on the wood. My husband's warm

body still twitching. I remember staring, shaking, in complete shock. I remember seeing curtains parting from the corner of my eye, but I couldn't pull my eyes away from my body. Remember everything going black, like static taking over my vision and falling. I was surrounded by red, red, meat, and blood, and a sticky white substance. I was naked and wet, and I couldn't move. All my limbs were cramped up against my body. I felt a pull, pulling me, sucking me down into the redness and the darkness. I heard a voice, a woman's voice, muffled and distant, screaming and sobbing. No, I don't want to, please, I don't want to anymore. I saw a bright light. I saw a bright light. and I woke up in my bed, gasping for air, drenched in sweat.

My husband sat up next to me, woke in no doubt by my violent cries. He pulled me against my chest, stroking my hair, but I wouldn't stop shaking. It's okay, it's okay, just a dream. But it wasn't just a dream. I saw it. I had seen him die. It had been so real, so vivid. I was still mourning, still in shock, curled up in his lap.

It couldn't have been a dream. She brought me a pie the next day, the white. James had stayed home from work to console me, deeply alarmed by my reaction to what he had thought was just a bad dream. He offered to get the door, but I didn't want him to. I didn't want him anywhere near our front door ever again. I turned the knob with shaking hands, and there she was. Her hair tied up in a messy ponytail, clutching a pie in front of her.

She was still pregnant. She held it out to me, her smile gleaming and wide, but her eyes apologetic. I wanted to apologize for the noise, she said cheerfully, tilting her head. I hope it hasn't kept you up, but just so difficult sometimes with newborns. You, of all people, would understand. I don't have kids, I said bluntly. I'm in the pie. It must have been cherry.

It was red. So red. Remember? She blinked to me. Oh, yes, of course. She held out the pie, pushing it into my hands. Please take it. I cautiously took it from her.

It was so red inside, like the red for my dream, like my husband's guts. When I looked back up, she was still smiling. But there were tears streaming down her face and dripping off her chin. I stared at her blankly. Are you okay? Yes, oh yes, I'm fantastic, dear. Without warning, she opened up her arms and pulled me in, hugging me tightly. The pie tin crumbling between us.

We're just so glad you moved in. I heard a sound like water trickling, and I can't. cringed that something wet touched my legs. I pulled back and looked down to see liquid trickling down her thighs, slightly pink and sticky. Um, you, um, she raised her eyebrows inquisitively, then looked down at herself and seemed to blush. Oh my, yes, you must excuse me. She gave me another smile so wide it looked like in my hurt, still weeping silently. She looked older than before. I'm so sorry. Again, I'm so sorry. She cayed herself a couple days later.

I saw it happen. I felt an urge to look out of our bedroom window around 5 in the morning, and I saw her standing on the roof of the neighbor's house. She seemed to look me right in the eyes before she plummeted. I ran down the stairs as quickly as I could, almost tripping and cracking my head open. When I got outside, everything looked different. The house looked different, old,

like it hadn't been lived in years. The yard was overgrown, the grass swallowing up the children's toys, and the pink flowers on the windowsill were shriveled and brown. The porch was dirty and packed with things, as if only hoarders had ever resided there. The paramedics came after I called 911 and the police, and it occurred to me that it was the first time I had seen anyone other than us

and the neighbors on that street. They told me it was a good thing I'd called because no one else would have. When I asked what that meant, they just looked at me blankly. No one else lives here, ma'am. One of them told me, as if it was obvious. I stared at her body until they took her away. She looked different. She looked old.

Even so, I could have sworn I saw her stomach growing. I heard them call her Jane Doe as they zipped up the black body bag. That was a few months ago. You moved back into our apartment closer to the city. And even though it's cramped here, it feels so much more comfortable. I've been going to therapy, trying desperately to figure out if what I witnessed was real or pure insanity. My therapist seems to think it was stressed somehow, so does my husband, as if he wasn't there, as if he didn't see what I did.

He seems different. I've noticed things like how the mole on the back of his wrist has gone now, and how his hair grows slightly curly when it used to be so straight. I can't get the image of him that night out of my head. His body destroyed and drenched in gore. His eyes still open. I've been throwing up every morning, but I won't test. I'm terrified to confirm.

what I already know. I tried a stupid internet challenge and I regret it. Being a teen in the 2010s, I grew up frequenting the internet. I was into all the usual stuff a teenage boy would be into, creepy pastas, strange internet stories, and most prominently paranormal YouTube. I watched a lot of investigation stuff and all those challenges that were popular. You know the kind, internet myths or stories that got turned into challenges that could be milked for views. I'm not sure I ever fully bought any of

it, but I do know for sure that I was too afraid to try anything myself. Nowadays, I haven't been into that kind of stuff, as I've been busy with work, and I suppose I just grew out of it in general. I live out in the country in a very rural town, only 300 people or so with lots of space between houses. I've always liked the quiet, even as a kid, no noisy neighbors or busy streets to disturb me. My town is only about a 30-minute drive from the nearest city, so I have to drive out for work, but it's still not too much of a hassle. Anyways, recently, I went out on a work trip where I had to be in a different city for a few days. The hotel I was staying at was a fair size with well over 10 floors, though I don't remember the exact number.

I don't like to think about that place. I'd already stayed there for two nights. On the third, as I was heading up the elevator to go to my room for the night, I remembered something. Seeing the number of buttons in the elevator reminded me of a challenge I saw a lot of back when I was a teen. It was called the elevator challenge. It was dumb as hell and no one believed it, but I couldn't help but think about it. As a kid, even though I knew it wasn't true, something about it still scared me. I haven't heard about it in years, so if you're unfamiliar, the premise of the game is to follow a set of instructions using an elevator in a building of at least 10 floors,

and he will end up in some creepy alternate dimension or something. When I arrived to my room, I looked it up out of curiosity, and sure enough, the instructions, restrictions were still available. I knew everything about it was bullshit, but for some reason a part of me wanted to try it. I think for my inner child or something. Since it was my last night at the hotel, I said, fuck it. Why not? I stayed up pretty late, around 2 a.m. in hopes that most people would sleep, and I wouldn't have to deal with her starting if something got in the way. Hey, if I'm going to do it, might as well commit, right? When I entered the elevator and hovered my hand over the button of the fourth floor, part of me was nervous. I don't know why, but there was something

uncomfortable settling in the bottom of my stomach. I ignored it and pressed the button, officially beginning the game. The elevator rose to the fourth floor and the doors opened. No one entered and I breathed a sigh of relief. I continued to follow the instructions carefully, second floor, then sixth, then second again. So far so good. I'm I pressed the tenth and my stomach dropped as the elevator lurched upward. The feeling happened every time. But something about this time felt worse. Next, it was time to press the button for the fifth floor.

Supposedly a woman is supposed to enter, and if you speak to her or even look at her, something bad will happen. I pressed the button and the elevator moved downward, seemingly slower than before, though it was probably my nerves. When it went still and the doors opened, no one was there. I think I felt both relief and disappointment. I was glad to not have encountered her, but it would have been interesting if I did. I waited for the doors to close, but right before they did, I heard the thumps of light footsteps

rapidly approaching the elevator. A woman practically ran into the elevator, and it was clear she was trying to get in before the doors closed. I think at that point, I had totally forgotten the rules. I didn't say anything to her, but I did look at her. She wore a light floral dress and sandals, which stuck out to me because it was mid-autom. Her hair was long, dark, and in wispy, loose over her shoulders. I gained some sense and looked away quickly, making sure to avoid her face. I didn't get a glimpse of it and hoped that the few seconds I did look wouldn't ruin things. I quickly pressed the final button for the first floor. Supposedly, if the elevator goes down to the first you failed, but if it goes to the tenth, that means you entered the other

dimension. Unfortunately, the elevator lowered taking me to the first floor, though I expected it, it was a bit disappointing. I left the elevator without looking back as instructed and headed for the stairs to call it a night. Something was weighing on me, though, as I walked. I wasn't sure when it was okay to look behind me, but as I approached the doors to the stairs, I felt like if I didn't look back right then and there, I'd die. It sounds crazy, but I swear that's what it felt like. I glanced behind me, and to my confusion, the elevated doors remained open, despite usually being closed and already moving again by now. The woman remained inside the elevator looking at me.

She wasn't standing creepily, though. It sounds creepy when I explain it like this, but she was smiling. The smile itself was empty, and it didn't feel like she was smiling at me. She just looked simply content. She stood still but comfortable. I was too tired to keep thinking about this stupid game, so I turned back and headed up to my room for the night. The next day I tried to push the game out of my mind. It's one of those times where you do something pointless and choose to pretend you never did it so that you don't feel like you wasted time.

When I got home, I went about my day as usual. There was an odd feeling in the back of my mind, but I ignored it. That night, I struggled to fall asleep. I had this odd sense of dread, but I couldn't pinpoint why. The next week went the same way. Normal days aside from an odd feeling, followed by a struggle to fall asleep because of a heavy feeling of dread. One night, a week after I got home, was when everything went to shit. I got into bed at my usual time around 10 p.m.

And fell asleep in a normal amount of time. No dread, no weird feeling. This time, though, I woke up and it was still dark. I looked at the clock of my nightstand to find that it was around 2 a.m. Then I heard it. The quiet sound of breathing. It wasn't my own. My stomach dropped and I started to panic.

All I could think was, who the fuck is in my room right now. I don't know how, but I managed to calm myself down. I grew up in a very spiritual household. I was told growing up that if there's a ghost or a demon in the house, to ignore it. That's what I chalked it up to. I don't know how in the world I managed to come to that conclusion.

Maybe it was the past week of sleep deprivation, or maybe I was just plain stupid. Either way, I went back to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, the breathing wasn't there. In fact, I had completely forgotten about it. That was until nighttime again. I was in bed tried to fall asleep when I heard it again, the soft, shallow breaths. That was when I realized it was coming from underneath me.

I gathered the courage to look over the edge of my bed, and I saw what confer my fears. Peking out from under my bed were the ends of long, dark, wispy hair. I didn't dare look further. slowly got out of bed, grabbed my phone, and walked out of the room. When I looked back to close the door, I saw her. No, she saw me. Two wide eyes were staring deep into my soul. She didn't move from her place under my bed, and she wasn't smiling anymore. Her light floral dress that once fit her perfectly was now dark and sagging. I ran out of my house frantically, grabbing my keys on the way out and slamming the door behind me. No way in hell was I going to spend another second with that thing.

I got into my car and drove. I drove and drove, not even thinking of a destination. I just needed to get away. I probably should have called the police, but that was the last thing on my mind. I've been staying at my parents' house for the past few days. I can't go back there. My parents got me to call the police who searched the house but found nobody. There was no sign of forced entry and nothing to suggest there was a woman there. Not even hair. The first few days I was staying here, everything felt okay for once. But these past few nights, the feeling came back. That unexplainable fear I felt every night.

I'm terrified that I'll hear her again. I'm so scared. I think this means she found me again. I don't know what to do. I don't even know if she's a part of this sick and twisted game, or if I just happened to accidentally cross paths with some crazy bitch. I don't believe this was a coincidence. I shouldn't have looked at her.

The instructions said that if I looked at her, I wouldn't be able to return to the real world. Maybe she wants to take me to her bullshit dimension. I don't even know. I'll cling to anything at this point. I'm thinking of going back to the hotel. Maybe if I do the ritual properly again and leave for good, she'll leave me alone.

As of right now, I think I hear her breathing again. It's been 23 years since I quit teaching. and this student still scares me. Tommy was a weird kid, quiet, soft-spoken, almost timid. I was initially worried something was happening at home that was keeping him so walled off from the other kids until I met his folks. At a parent-teacher's night at this school,

his parents were a very nice young couple and just eager to ask me about Tommy as I was to ask them. They were just as puzzled about Tommy's soft nature and initially thought he was on the spectrum. him, although they had yet to have him tested. At a recess, Tommy wouldn't interact with the other kids, instead opting out to play alone on the swings or drawing pictures in the dirt with his stick. Until one afternoon, a group of boys in the great above him got together and decided

to make fun of poor quiet Tommy. I saw the whole thing happening from across the playground and began walking over to intervene. One of the kids was a notorious bully, a real gorilla for his age, standing a couple heads above the other kids. He towered over Tommy with a basketball in hand. I saw him wind up, ready to slam dunk onto Tommy's head, but when he let go to the ball, it just hovered there in mid-air. The ball started to spin, picking up momentum and speed, and went sailing back into the bully's face, breaking his nose and sending him to ass over tea kettle to the ground. I was halfway over to them when I saw this. I didn't know what to make of it, but I knew it had something to do with Tommy,

who the whole time, mind you, hadn't even looked up from his stick drawn in the dirt. After that, absolutely nobody interacted with little Tommy. Kids, bullies, and I even saw ants and other bugs skidder off the other way when he was near. The school I worked in was grades K through 12, so even after Tommy left the first grade, I would still see him around the school. The other staff would congregate in the teacher's lounge at launches to talk about him and all the weirdness that surrounded him. It's like he could read my mind. I swear he somehow made all tech books float up off the desk and hit the floor this morning. Those were just a few of the rumors going around amongst those teachers.

I always tried to shy away from the gossip. What if Tommy could read minds too? What would he do if he could see how hated he really was? Things continued on like this for years. I'd smile at Tommy whenever I would see him in the hallways, and things remained uneventful until Tommy hit the ninth grade. Tommy had to pair up with a partner for assignment, science lab project, a simple dissection of a frog. From what the teacher of the class told me,

he nor anybody else had ever seen Tommy so into anything before. He was actively sharing his excitement over the frog's intestines and bones with his less than enthusiastic lab partner. Unfortunately, this is where everything gets really dark. After the class, nobody could find Tommy, his lab partner, and about a dozen scalples. It wasn't uncommon for students to ditch class, but this was Tommy's we're talking about, and his missing partner and 12 fucking blades. A few teachers, including myself, went to search for him at a recess that day,

but it was an unfortunate janitor that found him and the other students. He called all of us at the teacher's lounge, pale face and shaking. He said he had called the police and we need to get to students somewhere safe and locked down the school. We all asked what was going on,

and he told us. He had found Tommy in the upstairs bathroom, dissecting his last. lab partner. Only, he wasn't doing it himself. The janitor explained the scoppels were whizzing around Tommy's screaming lab partner, making incisions and pulling out organs as Tommy sketched everything down into a book. When Tommy saw the janitor, he apparently turned around, non-plussed about the whole thing, and said, oh hey, Mr. S. I was curious about how Mark worked. Is everybody like this on the inside? The janitor apparently mustered up a smile and made an excuse

about getting back to work before making like a bat out of hell and racing back to us. We quickly put the school into lockdown. The way you would if you have an active shooter in the building. I watched the live feed of the school security cameras from a laptop in the teacher's lounge as he told me roaming the empty halls. Locks broke off the lockers as he passed them while the doors flooded open and closed frantically like the panicked wings of the butterflies. I could see he was visibly confused, probably wondering where everyone had gone.

The police and SWAT arrives pretty quickly. I watched the cameras as they surrounded him, automatic rifles pointed at his head, probably yelling at him to get on the ground. When Tommy just nonchalantly turned around to walk the other way, though, they opened fire. The bullets had barely left their guns before stopping mid-air to reposition themselves and continue their trajectory into their owner's skulls. Five SWAT team officers hit the floor. Dead.

All of the staff was huddled like a coven of witches around the laptop now, a coven of middle-aged, teacher's salary witches, scared shitless as what we saw on screen, that Tommy now stood outside the teacher's lounge. We all knew what was coming as the door plastered off its hinges. The faculty panicked and threw any close objects they could grab towards Tommy. I remember shouts of, get away from me, you little monster, and I'm not fucking dying like this. I was supposed to retire to Florida this year. Eyes popped out of skulls, limbs were ripped from sockets with sick, wet, tearing noises, and teachers sailed around the room in the air so fast and with such force that when they hit the ground they explored like a balloon full of jelly. And the whole time,

I just crouched in the corner, shaking and terrified. Eventually, I was all that was left alive in the room with Tommy. He made his way over to me as I was sure it was the end. Mr. H. He spoke my name the way a student went before asking to use the washroom. Where is everybody? Did I do something wrong? I couldn't sugarcoat it. He had spared me to this point, and if nobody was going to tell him what he was doing was wrong, well, how far would he take this? How many more lives would he snuff out? Yes, Tommy, I managed to stammer out. You've killed these people. You understand that's wrong, don't you? I didn't mean to. I was just standing up for myself. I glanced over to the laptop to see more SWAT heading to the teacher's lounge. Tommy, please, I said as softly and kindly as I could

under such duress, you have to make up for what you've done. Okay, some men are on their way here now to take you some more safe. Every crime has a punishment and what you've done here is a crime. I don't remember my exact words, but they were something like that and Tommy nodded and raised his hands to the air just as Swat got to the door. They arrested Tommy and remained as calm and emotionless as ever as they led him to an armored truck in the parking lot. The events of that day were largely covered up and Tommy was placed in a high security prison. How to visit him from time to time of the years he told me I was the only one besides some government officials or FBI types, his words that ever did. I didn't know why he let himself just sit in that prison

year after year. I was thankful about it, though. I thought whatever words I managed to squeak out to him before his arrest must have really stuck. He hadn't changed a whole lot mentally either, it seemed. He was still very much that quiet kid drawing pictures in the dirt I remembered long from long ago. But the reason I'm writing this, the reason I've broken as many years of silence as that I have NDAs on the matter is because last night I got a call from the prison. Two guards that patrol Tommy's cell were found dead and he was nowhere to be found. I don't know if he just finally got bored or what. It doesn't help.

Matters that he's grown into the most average, unassuming-looking man Eve ever. Caucasian, average height, build, hazel eyes. He could be anywhere right now. And it has been a while since I last visited him. God help me if he decides I hadn't made the right call after all. and he wants payback for all the years he spent just whittling away behind the bars. Tommy, if you're reading this right now, I'm sorry, but I can't ever see you again. I can't see any more people suffer, though, so much.

I know you're probably just confused and maybe even scared right now, but I hope you know to do the right thing. After I post this, I'll be heading into my garage to run a house from the exhaust of my car through the driver's side window, maybe listen to my favorite R-E-M album one last time. To everybody else, please stay in your homes, lock your doors, and keep your loved ones close. Good luck. My high school sweetheart never existed.

My high school years were amazing. Sports and grades have come to me naturally, but I always struggled with one thing. Women. As a senior in high school, I never got to experience the pleasures of having a girlfriend, and I wish it stayed that way. Lana was perfect. Her almond-shaped hazel eyes and her wolf cut were the first thing to catch my attention. I remember her walking into the classroom and greeting the teacher.

She was beautiful. My teacher must have seen me eyeing her down because the scene arrangement he gave her was the seat next to mine. The first word she ever said to me were, Hey, dude. It took me a minute to register, but I eventually responded with a quick, hi. From there, we hit it off and became friends. I did my best to get her justice to do the school, and he even helped her with schoolwork. Soon we became class partners and finally broke the ice. Study sessions were where I got to know her more. She had the same energy as I. She liked my jokes and I liked hers. She told me how she came from another school because of her parents' work and really appreciated my company. As time progressed, we hung out more outside of

school. Often we would get food or watch movies, but only as friends. She didn't really talk to too many people, so I appreciated having her all to myself. She eventually became my best friend and the more we talked, the more I realized how much I liked her. As homecoming was near, we decided to go as a couple. I couldn't believe that she was said yes and couldn't wait for the big night. This is where it all went wrong. As the day of homecoming approached, I grew anxious. This was the furthest I've ever gotten with a girl.

The first three years of high school were lonely. I always went to homecoming with a group of guy friends. Many of them congratulated me on the achievement. My mom was very proud and made sure I was ready. As the day of homecoming arrived, I was ready. My mother rented us a limo and bought me a brand new suit just for the special occasion. I called Lana before heading to her house to pick her up. She told me just how excited she was and vice versa.

Finally, arriving at her house, I knocked on her door. No response. After a few minutes, I called her. No answer. I decided that she might be in the backyard, so I crossed over through the side like I usually do. After knocking on the back door, I was relieved to hear the voice of Lana's father. Who is it? Lana's father opened the door with a confused look.

Can I help you? He asked. I stated that it was me and I was here to pick up Lana. I told her parents I could pick her up ahead of time so I was confused at the question. Her father just stared at me like I was crazy. I think you have the wrong house. Of course, I persisted and asked if this was some kind of joke. I remember seeing another figure walking towards the door.

It was Lana's mom. She seemed very relaxed and approached the door stating, We don't have a daughter. I was dumbfounded. After a good minute of arguing and persisting, Lana's father told me to leave. I hesitated, thinking that they might have disproved of me being their daughter's date, but they grew more and more aggressive. Finally, considering my fate, I stumbled across the steps as they hurried to the car. I could already feel my eyes tear up as I realized I was stood up. Why did she ghost me? Why did she tell her parents to act like assholes? Did I do something wrong? I had so many questions, questions that were never answered.

I lived in a relatively small town. Everyone knew each other. So when everyone claimed that this Lana girl never existed, I nearly lost it. After I went home from the incident, I cried to my mom about what happened. She looked very confused and asked me who I was talking about. I was sobbing. I told her it wasn't the time for a joke and I needed someone to talk to, but she continued to ask me who I was talking about, just like Lana's parents.

I stood my ground, but the same thing happened. She forgot. It got so bad that I had to pull out my phone and show her a picture of her except she wasn't there anymore. Not a single trace of her was left on my phone. Her pictures, videos, and messages were all gone. Our old Instagram posts together were non-existent. Most importantly, her number of which I memorized by heart never existed. Was I dreaming?

The girl I was talking to for over half a year never existed? Did no one believe me or did everyone forget? That was 20 years ago. With no one to talk to or believe in me, I moved on. I later moved for college and did other things with my life. Eventually, I met my wife. She is the love of my life. We have two healthy boys and another one on the way.

I have a decent job and a happy life. My wife, Emily, stays home to take care of the kids. Since my work is enough to support the whole family, we often go to parenting sessions together. We weren't certain if we would be able to juggle another child and marriage has been so hard, so we decided to learn how to have balance. It was going great until last week. December 2nd, 2023.

It's been two decades since I last saw her, and that's why I'm writing this diary. I almost forgot about her after all these years, but I saw her. After our parenting session, Emily and I went to the get lunch. We had at one of those restaurants with an outside cafe. The table we sat at was adjacent to the sidewalk, which pedestrians walked on. As I waited for Emily to come back from the restroom, I noticed. one of the pedestrians at a distance. I wasn't able to immediately recognize her, but I knew she looked familiar. The closer she got, the more I was certain. It was her. It was Lana. She didn't age as

much as I did. She looked about 30-ish and still had the same type of hair cut and eye color. I couldn't believe my eyes. I don't know why, but I was scared. Like she was going to do something to me. However, she seemed unaware, like she didn't see me and just kept walking. My eyes followed her as she walked down the street, eventually turned in a corner. I wanted to follow her, but my wife was coming back. I thought I was hallucinating, but I was certain it was her. When we went home, I couldn't sleep. For 20 years, everyone I had talked to about Lana never believed me. It got so bad, I started to think I made it all up. A way to cope with the loneliness I was facing in high school, but I was certain. I saw her. January 12, 2024. I've been skipping parenting sessions with my wife because of my

busy new year work schedule. My wife has been going alone and tending to the kids a lot more. She's been doing it well. However, she recently talks to me about a new friend she made a class. Her name is Lana. This is probably insignificant, but I haven't heard that name in a while. What really stirred me was the way my wife described her. I was a bit shaky, but reassured myself it wouldn't be her since it's a relatively common name. She will be coming over for dinner in a week, so I'll have my suspicions answered soon. January 19th, 2024. I don't know where to begin.

I sat in the living room scared for the worst, so when my wife opened the door to the sound of Lana greeting us, I nearly passed out. It was like seen a ghost, a mere dream from 20 years ago. My wife introduced us and quickly sat us down at the dinner table. I remained reserved. I did my best to control my emotions, not speaking for the entire dinner

other than a few yes or noes. Lana actually seemed uninterested at me and was getting along with my wife very much. much. I didn't know how to feel. She was real right here in front of me. After bottling my emotions, I finally built up the courage for confrontation. Do you remember me? I asked Lana. Both my wife and Lana turned to be confused. Sorry? I remember her asking. In high school? Senior year? I asked again, this time a little more demanding. Lana looked confused. My wife was surprised. You knew Lana? I didn't answer. I never really told anyone about Lana after I moved to college and I didn't think it was important to bring up to Emily.

I just looked at Lana. I wanted her to say something, anything, but she didn't. Keeping the puzzled look on her face. You disappeared, I said aggressively. My wife started to get intense. Unaware why I was so persistent. Lana also started getting uncomfortable. I could just tell by the way she looked at me. There was no remorse behind those eyes. It's like she forgot or never knew. Either way, the rest of the dinner was extremely uncomfortable. I excused myself from the table, and currently I'm in my room riding this entry. Lana just left. My wife has a lot of questions. She was mad about how unwelcoming I was, but after explaining everything she understood, it's been a very long time since I've told someone about the high school incident. My wife was very skeptical at first, since I had no proof of knowing Lana in high school. She didn't believe me. It was only when I started telling

her specific details about Lana that she started believing. I told her about her parents and a few other experiences that I'm not comfortable sharing. Emily told me she wanted to avoid Lana at parenting sessions, which is understandable, so we decided to quit the program. Emily was confused. How could someone just disappear? We decided to Google her name. There was almost nothing about her online other than a few work-related profiles. We spent two hours doing this while no results. While I have told me that it was getting late, so we're giving up for now. February 3rd, 2024. It's been a month and life has been as usual. We decided to stop going to parenting sessions since then we haven't seen or talked to Lana. Because of that, this will probably be my last entry. I think it's

best to leave it that way. We have our theories. My wife thinks she might be a ghost, but I think this is something else. But either way, I'm done worrying. It's been years and I think it's time to stop thinking about her. This is goodbye for now. February 25th, 2024. I can't sleep tonight. I got a few hours in, but I woke up from a bad dream again. This is the second time. I didn't feel like writing an entry the first time since I figured it must have been a dream.

But this one was unusual, to say the least. In the dream I saw my wife. She was far, but I could tell it was her. I started drifting towards the unable to do anything but watch. She was smiling, with her arms wide open, motioning me to come to her. I felt happy and at peace staring into her eyes. It was like when I first met her. I knew she was perfect.

She started speaking, I love you. I wanted to say it back, but couldn't. This was a lucid dream, but I couldn't control myself. She kept saying it, I love you, I love you, I love you. But then her voice started deforming, like she was choking. She kept staring at me. Her hands were bound at her sides, and her eyes stayed locked onto mine. I love you.

I love you. I love you. She kept going, but I couldn't take it. She was choking on something. Each gasp for air ended with an I love you. A red fluid then started trickling out of her mouth. Blood? I didn't know, but now she wasn't talking anymore.

Her hands were on her throat, gasping for air. I couldn't do anything. I wanted to wake up but for it to end. But I could only watch. It all happened so fast. She was now on the floor, spasming and fighting for her life. I was yelling on the inside, but, still unable to move. Her eyes. They were still looking into mine. Her head stayed in place,

but her body shook uncontrollably until she stopped. I thought she was dead. I wanted to yell, to scream, to see if she's okay, but I couldn't. Her lifeless body rested on the floor. It was pure silence. All I could do was look at her corpse and couldn't take action. I prayed that she would get up, but no one heard me. Her eyes were still open. They were now rolled back. I could only see the whites of them, but her head was still facing me. I didn't know how to react. I was shaking to the core. I stared at her body for a few minutes.

It was all I could do. But suddenly she started moving again. It was like she came back to life. Her eyes rolled back to the front of her head. I could hear her joints snap, crackle, and pop back into place. She then got up and started walking towards me. I was ecstatic. I thought I lost her and was beyond relieved.

But something was wrong. She was smiling. The smile you'd get from a funny joke. As she walked towards me, she scanned my body up and down. My wife now stood right in front of me. It's almost like nothing happened. Like she didn't just die and come back. Something was off.

She started laughing. No. She started howling. An uncontrollable howl. Like the Joker. I was so confused until she started peeling her face off. First she started with the top, gripping the middle of her scalp. She grabbed her own hair and tugged each other downwards.

She is now hysterical, laughing so hard I could barely hear the sound of her scalps ripping open. Her skin started ripping downwards towards her nose. I could see her skull now. Blood was going everywhere, covering her face, her body, but she kept going. She was now at her eye level. Her face looked like I peeled tomato with two bulging eyes sticking out of it. I couldn't bear the sight, but finally she stopped laughing. I love you, she whispered.

I wouldn't even wish what I saw next on my worst enemy. She yanked the skin she ripped off and threw the long pieces on the ground. She then looked me in the eyes and laid down. I wanted it to end. I couldn't watch this anymore. She then curled up into a fetal position like an embryo. Her body turned white, not white as in pale, but white as in Voldemort white. Her clothes disintegrated, but her body was smooth.

Its features were all gone, like a human morph suit. She started spasming again. But this time she wasn't talking. The two pieces of skin seemingly disappeared. I couldn't fathom what was happening. Her body was transforming. After a brief moment, features started returning. I could see a face again, breasts and hair.

But it wasn't my wife. As her face started setting back in and her hair started growing back, I knew who it was. She started getting up with her hands covering her privates. A smile grew on her face, a sinister smile. I couldn't believe what I was looking at. Missed me? Lana asked. I finally woke up. It was all over. I was sweating like a dog in summer heat when I jumped out of my bed. This time was three in the morning. I'd only got a few hours of sleep. I quickly checked to see if my wife was okay. She was sleeping soundly. I've been

replaying the dream in my head over and over. Even though it was just a dream, I told Emily how scared I felt. I have so many questions. Something tells me that this isn't going to be the last time. for now, I'm going to take off from work and relax. Maybe I just haven't been getting enough sleep. March 1st, 2024. The dreams haven't stopped. They've been mostly the same. My wife dies and Lana comes out of nowhere to scare the shit out of me.

I started using Melatonin to get better sleep, but it only made the dreams worse. We visited a sleep specialist yesterday and he told us that the problem could be with my subconscious. He told us the best way to solve the issue is to find and face the issue. Of course, I already knew the issue. It was Lana. I still had so many questions that were still lingering within. How had she returned? We haven't talked to or seen her since the night of the dinner, so we decided to attend another parenting session to find her. Of course, she wasn't there. I wasn't very surprised, but my if assured me, we would find her eventually. As of now, we have had zero luck. March 3, 2024. Still no luck. We've gone to our sessions.

every day for the past couple days and haven't seen her. We asked the staff if they have seen her, but they told us she stopped coming about the time that we stopped as well. My wife thought this was just a coincidence, but this is nothing new to me. The dreams have been getting worse and I fear for my own health. I've been consistently waking up in the middle of the night, sweating and yelling. I need to fix this soon. March 5, 2024.

It's currently 2 a.m. I had another shitty dream. Usually I would be bound to something, unable to talk, and forced to watch my wife die while Lana. appears. I was already used to the routine. It sounds messed up, but I've grown used to see my wife die in the worst way as possible. So far, she's ripped her own skin off, set herself a blaze, and shot herself on the head. I hated every minute of it, but I've become desensitized. Lana would always appear shortly after Emily died. I didn't understand why, since I never knew anything about

Lana on a daily basis. But this one was different. Emily cut her stomach open and spilled her guts over the floor. Nothing unique. But this time, Lodagh, Lana had walked in early. She didn't appear from Emily's corpse like she sometimes did, but she rather walked in from outside of my view. This time she approached Emily, still bleeding to death, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Shortly after, Emily was lifeless, and Lana turned her head towards me, like she usually did. She walked over to me and started smiling like she usually did. But this time she touched me. She touched my lips circling between the top and bottom, but that wasn't the part that concerned me. I could feel it.

It was the only dream I told myself, but I knew this was different. She read me, like she was staring into my soul, like she knew what I was thinking. I didn't know how to react. I couldn't. I wanted to die at that moment, until she said the words, See you soon. He gave me a light shove. That's all I could remember.

I woke up and now I'm riding the century. I woke my wife up and told her what happened as well. Now we both can't sleep and seriously don't know what to do. My wife has booked me an appointment for my second. Kydrous tomorrow. I think it's for the best. March 5th, 2024, part two. Holy fuck. After my wife booked me an appointment for tomorrow, we decided to watch a movie. We couldn't sleep and didn't know what else to do. About halfway through the movie, I heard a tap on one of the living room windows. It sounded like a rock. I ignored it, too wary to check, but another tap came shortly after.

This time both my wife and I went to check, peering out the window. We couldn't see anything since it was too dark. I didn't know what to do, feeling like a child wanting to stay safe from the safety of my home, my wife told me not to worry, and how it was probably a couple of pranksters up late at night. But a couple seconds later, there was a loud banging on our back door. I feared for the worst. I grabbed my shotgun from the bedroom safe. I've never had to use it before. My wife said I was overreacting, but after experiencing the dream, I was not taking risks. Shaking in fear, I head toward the back door and told my wife to stay behind me. I turned on the the backyard lights and listened for sound.

It was super quiet since it was late at night, but I still didn't hear anyone in the yard. After a few minutes of waiting by the door, I finally got the courage to prop it open and check to see if anyone was there. Of course, there was nothing unusual. The backlight dimly revealed the backyard, illuminating the barbecue grill, and the silhouette of two trees. Other than that, I saw nothing else. To reaffirm my safety, I hesitantly called out.

Anyone there? My wife was clutching my hand behind me, but I was coming. confident no one was there until someone replied, I'm here. At first I thought it was our elder and the neighbor, but this voice was younger and higher pitched. This voice was familiar. My wife instantly jumped back. I think she realized before I did. It was Lana. I couldn't see her at first, but I knew. Her shadow was hiding under one of the trees. I only saw it when it started moving towards me. A dark shadow hovered on the ground, slowly, edging its way towards my wife and I. I immediately raised my gun, realizing there was nothing I could see that was making the shadow.

It shaped narrowed as it shifted from the light. It was moving by itself. It finally stopped about ten feet away from us. The shadow then grew bigger, about as wide as a sewer plate. I pointed my gun at the thing, but I didn't know what I was aiming at. Before I could think, a hand appeared from the void. It reached for the grass and then pulled itself out. Along came an arm, then a head, and then a full body.

The figure had long hair and tattered clothes. Its skin was rotten like a corpse. My wife quickly pulled out her phone and called the police. I was now face to face with the thing, with my gun as the only protection I had. After taking a closer look, I recognized her. It was Lana, but her body seemed semi-decomposed like she was a zombie. She just stood there, menacingly. I wanted to shoot, but I couldn't.

There was nothing behind those eyes. Her face rose and met mine. Then she lifted her arm towards me, reaching for my face. Her dry and cracked lips started moving, with only a groan coming out of her mouth. My wife, who was still behind me, told me that the police would be there soon. I didn't hear her, hyperfixated on Lana's next move. Lana was unresponsive, like a statue, and then she started moving. I could see her plant her foot into the ground ready to charge.

Don't do it, I warned her, but she ignored me and started rushing. My wife screamed, seeing the sudden movement of Lana. She was fast, so fast that I almost didn't pull the trigger in time. My shotgun sent Lana flying, bits of her blood, flew through the air as I blood spooed everywhere, like a pinata. This sight was gruesome. I stood there realizing I had just shot someone. The sirens of the police were now only a few houses way, and I turned to tell my wife to get them. But she must have already gone to tell the police what happened. As I was waiting, I moved closer to the remains of Lana. I wanted to have closure

to make sure it was over. But when I approached the body, I noticed something wrong. The hair was different. This wasn't an honest hair. This was my wife's. I flipped the body over only to see my dead wife's face. I still open with a look of horror. I shot my wife. I could hear the police breaking down the front door, but I didn't know what to do. In the heat of the moment, my legs started moving, running. I ran across my backyard and jumped over the fence to my neighbor's yard. Then the next yard, and then the next. I ran into sunrise. I'm currently standing in a friend's house 30 miles away from my home. My kids, I can't go back. There will be a hunt. for me soon. What have I done? March 8th, 2024. The dreams are still here and have become a lot

worse. I fear for my children and there's nothing I can do. The police are on a search for me. I thought about turning myself in, but I couldn't do it. I stayed at a friend's house for a couple nights until the bounty for me was released. I can't sleep at all anymore, but I know what I saw that night. Juan was there. This might be the only documentation I have of Valon's existence, but I wanted the world to know. For me, this is the thing. end. I refuse to live like this. I'm currently at the top of a skyscraper, and I think I'm going to jump. I don't know if I'm going to go through with this, but I will update y'all if I don't. This is me signing off now. Goodbye. And all right, guys, thank you so much for watching to the

end of this video. This was five unhinged scary stories. I really hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you thought about it down below in the comments, and this was Snook, and see you next time.