Snook - Strange 4Chan Threads

Episode Date: December 5, 2025

From a fisherman's account of strange encounters in the Australian outback to an OP who find something terrifying in his own home, these are some Strange 4Chan Threads. Also, would you like to see other long videos like this in the future? Thank you all for watching! You guys are the best! Make sure to subscribe to the Patreon for early access videos and many more perks! https://www.patreon.com/SnookYTAnd even though 4chan is anonymous and you can't even ask for permission... IF ANY OF THESE STORIES BELONG TO YOU, PLEASE EMAIL ME AT - [e-mail] before filing a copyright takedown or anything. Please, we can get it sorted out through email or some other form of communication, thank you.Sub goal is 1 million subs! So subscribe! Comment down below what you’d like to see in the future!And yes, I'm a human voice.Thank you for watching! Your support helps so much! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys and welcome back to the channel and today we're getting into some strange 4chan threads and stories are weird, disturbing, scary and just super super interesting. So you want to stick around. I appreciate you stopping by means the world. Please like the video and subscribe to the channel. The channel's subscriber goal is 1 million subscribers. So please subscribe to the channel and I'd love for you to join the community. And yeah, this video will be long enough already. So without further ado, let's get into some strange 4chan threads. This is the first time I've come to this board, and I have three Australian stories to share. I normally do not share my stories with anyone except close friends and family because, to be honest,

they make me sound like an absolute crackpot. A friend of mine urged me to post here, as it allows me to remain anonymous, and this community seems perhaps too open-minded. Before I start with the stories, I'll give a little bit of background about myself. I'm a 29-year-old guy living on the Gold Coast in Queensland, Australia. For those that may know the area, I grew up just outside of Rath Downey, on a 600-acre property, which has been in my family since the area was first colonized by Europeans. I moved to the Gold Coast when I was 20 to allow my fiancé, now my wife, to further her career in finance. My skill set was mostly limited to aquaponics maintenance and fish care, which I found was next to useless in that

city so I turned my attention to do my true passions, riding and fishing. I was soon picked up by one of Australia's largest fishing magazines which led me on countless fishing trips around the country. It was on these trips that these stories occurred and also the reason I've taken the screen name of Aussie Fish Jerno for these posts. I drink alcohol and smoke cigarettes but I was not drunk during the events that happened in these stories and I do not take any recreational or prescription drugs. The first story I'll share with you happened in 2009 in northeastern NSW. I was doing an article on the recently rehabilitated Clarence River Cod, or I'm not even going to try to pronounce that, fish, also known as the eastern freshwater cod in the area and basically

had a week to travel an entire river system by kayak and tag as many cod as I could. This trip was purposefully correlated with a full moon on the last night, as it would provide the best conditions for targeting cod with surface lures throughout the night. For anyone who may be interested, the trip itself was, for all intents and purposes, a complete failure, as I only managed to catch four cod, all neon tall and tagged from my previous resocking program. However, it was the occurrence on the last night of the trip that I will be sharing with you. I keep a tight journal on all of these trips as it allows me to add personal and anecdotal insight when writing articles. As well as ensuring that I do not forget to include any important details or events.

This is word for word, but only including pertinent details, a copy of what I wrote in my journal that night. And what he wrote in his journal reads as follows. With a tally of eight bass, two tannands, a spangled perch and a foul-hooked eel, today was another codeless day. The entire camping area above the falls was taken by a cavalcade of caravans, and I settled for a small patch of cleared shrubbery below the falls. But far enough away that I would no longer be in danger of flooding,

and so that the crashing water would not keep me awake. Three curlews entered camp shortly after I was set up, and I offered them some cooked perch. But they would not take it, even after I threw it well out of arms reach. Odd to see them in this area. Moonrise tonight will occur around midnight, and I will do my best to wake up,

throw surface lures at every eddy I could find, Conditions are still comfortable, but cold. No clouds or rain. Water is flowing reasonably hard over the falls, but the depth is significantly lower than it was four months ago. That was the final entry for the trip. As the next morning, I was in no mind to write down the following events. Again, I will try to keep it as concise as possible without missing important details. I woke to my watch's alarm at 11.30 p.m.

Without worry and made the short walk to the base of the falls. Moonrise was still at least half an hour away, but I decided to have a few exploratory casts, mostly just to try to warm up as the temperature was around the 4th Celsius degree mark. On the 4th of 5th cast, I managed to snag up on something near the other side of the creek. Instead of shining my light over the creek and ruining my chances of catching a fish over the next half an hour, I decided to wait for the moon to rise so I could see where it was stuck and retrieved it the following morning. I sat down and had a cigarette and tried to stay warm. I considered going back to camp, but I knew this was my last decent chance to tag a few cods,

so I decided to sit there and shiver until the moon rose. What happened next is a classic cliche, as it was long after summer. The roar of the cicadas wasn't present, but insects, frogs, and other nocturnal animals created a much quieter, but, in my opinion, much prettier symphony that would fill the night air. Just as the first rays of light from the moonrise had come over the falls and illuminated the creek, I noticed that the funnual noises were non-existent. The only sound present was that of the running water, and I sat there with a certain curious suspiciousness. It is a hard feeling to explain, one where something just feels off.

But you can't figure out what it is. I was feeling pretty spooked and decided that it wasn't worth hanging around for a $15 lure, so I grabbed my rod and was ready to make my way back to camp. I took one last look at the falls, and that's when I saw it. There was a large, thin object at the top of the falls, illuminated by the moon. It was definitely not there during the day, and my first thought is that it was a large tree, or a huge group of branches that had been washed down the river overnight. And then it stood up.

This thing was between six and eight meters tall. incredibly thin, in very human-like in shape with arms much longer than a human has. I am by no means an artist, but I have attached a picture here of what it looked like in the moonlight. It slowly raised its arms into the air as though it was reaching to the moon itself. And that's when I noticed two of the same creatures standing beside it. I'm not sure if they were there the whole time. I didn't notice because I was fixated on the one in the same. center, or if they had appeared as it raised its arms. All three of these things had their arms

raised into the air for a few seconds before completely vanishing. It took me a second to realize they had disappeared because their silhouette against the moonlight was that strong it had made an imprint on my sight, similar to when you look at the sun and see sunspots in your vision for a few seconds after. This next part was by far the most disconcerning event of the night. Anyone who has ever been out in a thunderstorm at night will know how surreal it is when a bolt of lightning illuminates the world around you for a split second. For that minute amount of time, you can see everything in a bright white light, almost as though a giant spotlight has been cast upon you. Well, a few seconds after the things vanished, the moon had just made its way completely over

the top of the falls, and suddenly it was like daytime. For four or five seconds, I could see everything around me in a strange white light similar to the lightning effect i just mentioned but lasting long enough that i could look around the entire area forgot the picture of my previous post so attached it here and then he attaches the picture and you can see the falls and these three strange skinny beans uh in front of the moonlight very strange and then he continues saying the only real detail i managed to notice over this period of light was three curlews standing together on a a small platform near the base of the falls about 20 meters away from my position. And I'm not Australian, so I wasn't familiar with what a curlew is, but a curlew is basically a bird

or a small bird with a super long beak that kind of is usually around water. So it's just kind of a bird, a small bird. And then he continues saying, I think the only reason my brain recognized that they were there was because they stood out so well against the water and rock face behind them. And just like the light was gone, the bush, again only lit up by the moonlight. I stood there in shock of everything I just seen for at least five seconds before a long whistling sound jolted me back to reality. The song of the curlews. For anyone who doesn't know how the curlews sound, click this link. And then he attaches a YouTube link and I'll play the sound of the curlews now. And that is a very weird call or sound.

I mean, imagine you were out in the Australian wilderness, see three quills. creepy figures up above you, and then this plane as well. I mean, like that is just unsettling, strange, and, I mean, just gives me the goosebumps. And then he continues saying, it's quite a spooky call at the best of times, and given the situation, was too much for me. I dropped my rod and raced back to camp, scrounged every piece of wood I could find in the immediate area,

and built a fire up as large as I could. Well, that's basically it for that story. Nothing else if it will happen. I retrieved my rod, but not my lure, the next morning. Traveled downriver and got picked up via 4 by 4 around 11 a.m. As was previously planned. In hindsight, I wish I had spoken to the caravaners camped above the falls to see if they saw anything that night. I later did a little bit of research and found that large, thin humanoids play a large part in Aboriginal culture from all over the country, often in the form of things like Quinkins.

That was my first experience with how weird the Australian bush can be, and in all honesty, I stayed away from remote places for quite a while afterwards. However, in the next story that I'll tell, I found that odd things can happen in quite populated areas. This next story happened on one of the many Morton Bay Islands in southeast Queensland. I normally will be happy to divulge the locations of where my stories have occurred, but in this case, I was asked by the locals, one person in particular, not to tell anyone which island it was. I will say that it is in the southern part of Morton Bay and has an expanse of mudflats. And he attaches a picture, and you can see Morton Bay.

Brisbane is close. I know that's a big city in Australia. And then it's down on the southern islands. I mean, it's a huge area, so, yeah, we can't get super specific. But anyways, he continues saying, The Morton Bay region has quite a history, along with some well-entrenched folklore. Everything from leper colonies to escape convicts becoming cannibals and many wars between aboriginals and European settlers. It is a relatively highly populated area and borders Queensland capital of Brisbane.

I was here to get some photos for an article about fishing with bait on inshore. Shallow Reeves and hope that I'd be able to cast net a large amount of baitfish, such as Pike, Mullet, Garbage. and whiting for bait rigging photos. This particular area was largely unfamiliar to me, but I decided my best bet of catching bades would be to spotlight the mud flats and mangrove areas on the 10 p.m. high tide. I was being helped by an older bloke who had just started a charter boat business in Morton Bay, and I'd promise to give him some free advertising in the magazine if he could get me on to some good fish the following morning. We headed down to the flats around 9 p.m. and began waiting through the murky waters, both with a cast net in our hand and a

cigarette in our mouth. This is a fairly customary in this part of the world, as it is the only surefire way of guaranteeing the mosquitoes and midges stay well away from your face. We were both wearing strongly powered headlamps, around the 1,000-lumann mark, which were only turned on a few seconds before throwing the net. Otherwise, you risk spooking the fish. The rest of the time, we are in darkness, out 100 meters from the shore and need deep water. Your mind tells you that every rock you step on is a stonefish, and every piece of seagrass that touches your leg is a bull shark that's coming to check out its net feed. So it's a bit of an adrenaline rush. From memory, we are doing quite well within the first half an hour and had 20 or so garfish and a few pike, both perfect

snapper baits. We decided to head back to the shore to roll a few more cigarettes and put our captured fish into an eskie in the back of my yute. We were almost back, about 30 meters away, when my friend said there's someone at the yute. I looked up and could just make out a faint shadow of what looked to be somebody crouched down near the back of my yute, which is a truck. This wasn't totally odd, as there is a permanent population of 120 or so people on the island. But the fact that they were snooping around in the darkness made me very suspicious. My friend and I whispered about what to do and decided that we'd walk through the water as quietly as possible until we were about 10 meters away from the Ute. Then we'd hit it with our headlamps at full power

and asked this person exactly what they were doing prowling around our car in the middle of the night. I carry a multi-tool on my belt at all times when I'm fishing, mostly to dispatch fish and cut the line. In this case, it was my Leatherman surge, which has a responsibly sized knife inbuilt, and although I had no intention or expectation of using it, having it with me did make me feel a little bit better about confronting our prowler. Well, we got about 10 meters away from my youth and I patted my friend on the shoulder to signal, let's do it. Both headlamps came on, fully illuminating a 20 meter area right around the vehicle.

What was staring back at us was shocking. This prowler was certainly not human. standing on two legs about 130 centimeters high, it seemed to be covered in either dense hair or a very heavy coating of mud. In an instant, it turned to us, let out a yelp, very similar to a noise made by a dog in pain, and took off into the mangrove trees, which bordered the east of the mudflats. Its movements were not a run or a walk. It seemed to glide or hover straight towards the mangroves.

and disappeared into them as soon as it reached the tree line. I only caught a split-second look at its face, but it did not seem ape-like, as it is often in case of Yowie and Bigfoot stories, but more like a dog, but with less of a snout. Quite hard to explain and definitely too hard for me to draw. Its eyes were hugely reflective. It was almost like the lights from our headlamps

had hit two small mirrors and was directed back at us. We were both, understandably, quite shocked from the incident, and threw our gear back into the Ute and drove to the most well-lit part of the island, a small grassy park near the pub. We did not check for prints or anything in the area as, honestly, we had just wanted to get the hell out of there. The next night we quietly and almost embarrassedly asked the bartender if there were any wild dogs or similar animals on the island, hoping for a rather menial explanation for the prowler we had encountered. His facial expression formed what would be best explained as a wry smile, and replied with no dogs, but they're mangrove men.

He directed our attention to an old bloke in the back of the bar and told us to ask him about them. My fisherman friend was quite tired from a full day out on the boat and decided to call it a night. And I had another drink alone before getting the courage to talk to the old man in the corner. The conversation that ensued was one of the most interesting ones I've ever had, and I will condense it into a few points. In their conversation reads as follows, The prowler we had witnessed the previous night

was a mangroom man called by Junjuri by local Aboriginal groups. In the past, they were present in the entire Morton Bay region, but destruction of mangroves had resulted in them now inhibiting only four islands. They, or something very similar, also lived in the mountain regions of the mainland. I'm not sure if he was talking about Yawees, as we know them in popular culture, six to ten feet tall, or smaller creatures like the one I saw. They haven't been known to harm humans but are apparently quite mischievous and the one near my youth was probably looking for fish or food. The aboriginals do not consider

them to be an animal ori spirit, but somewhere in between. They are well known to many of the locals in the area. Many have seen them but only believe them to be folklore. The old man I was speaking to had built up somewhat of a rapport with the junjuries, often leaving them food or toys, with their favorite toy apparently being squash balls. It was all quite a shock to me. The fact that these things were living in areas close to the largest city in Queensland just seemed ridiculous, but I cannot just ignore what I saw. My friend's charter business is doing quite a lot. well these days and I try to have a fish with him at least three or four times a year, but we've only spoken about that night once since it happened. He has never told another person

about it for fear of sounding like he's insane, which is totally understandable. I've returned to the island many times since, but have not had another seen anything out of the ordinary. And on my last trip in early 2014, I was informed that the old man I spoke to had sadly passed away. I honestly can't help but feel incredibly privileged to have seen something that doesn't exist. And it really changed how I view a lot of things in life. And this is the last story I have for you guys. A friend of mine runs a eel farm just north of Brisbane. And whenever I get the chance, I like to help them out.

Now, the farming of eels isn't a particularly difficult process when utilizing modern technology. But it is impossible to breed them in captivity. Their life cycle is actually quite amazing. All the freshwater eel species in Australia actually migrate tens of thousands of kilometers to the coral sea to breed. And then their eggs and larvae float back to mainland Australia on the ocean's currents. What this means is that all farmed eels are caught as wild stock, generally collected in their larval form in sophisticated eel traps. However, my friend also offers an eel removal.

service, where he'll remove mature eels from a water body for a fee. Normally, he'll do this at golf courses or council-owned parks, but occasionally, he'll do it for privately owned farm dams who are looking to remove the eels in order to stock more edible species of fish, which is where this story begins. We are setting eel traps on a property located in the Namimba Valley, southeast Queensland. This is largely considered to be the westernmost geographical limit of freshwater eels in the region as they rarely find a way to cross over the great dividing range that runs up the east australian coastline this generally means that individual eels are few and far between in this area but if conditions are suitable you may get huge populations of very large eels in very small areas

these small areas are generally farm dams miniature lakes that are built to supply water for small-scale agricultural processes. Because of the high amount of nutrients in the runoff from the agriculture, there is often large amounts of algae growth, resulting in populations of herbivorous fish and then eventually carnivorous fish, and in most cases, these carnivores are eels. The property we are on was in an absolutely stunning area, nestled in a hidden valley between a few of the many unnamed hilltops in the area with a creek running through the middle. We are camped in swags at the edge of the farm dam and it was damn cold at night, often dropping into the low single digits. Not the most hospitable conditions, but great for trapping eels as food sources are much scarcer in winter

than they are in the warmer months. I have attached a mud map to this post where the green represents in the tree line at the base of the hills. The brown is relatively flat ground with grasses and a few eulacaps, and the darker blue is the farm dam. The lighter blue is the creek that feeds it, and the red X is where we are camped. The creek itself is only about 15 meters wide at its widest point, but more than two and a half meters in some sections, which is quite considerable depth for waterways in this area. We'd set the eel traps in the dam in the lay afternoon, cook some dinner on the fire after nightfall, and fell asleep about 9 p.m. I woke up around 1 a.m. to answer a call of nature. Halfhazardly got dressed in my swag and stumbled into the

freezing night air. I walked around 50 meters from camp to the eucalypt tree, finish what I had to do, and just as I was about to walk back, it seemed like the whole top of the nearest hill was lit up with an incredible blue light. It seemed to almost swirl around this hill like a quick moving mist, but it didn't seem to be produced from anywhere in particular, nor was it actually illuminating anything in particular. Sounds funny, but it was just kind of there. I stood there for at least two minutes, watching it just sitting near the top of the hill before, almost mesmerized by it, before it slowly just faded away, and it was like never there.

I was quite perplexed by this, and in the back of my mind, I was definitely thinking about the strange light I saw at the base of the falls in northern NSW, the first story I told. and truth be told, I was feeling very spooked. When I arrived back at the camp and my friend was wide awake, sitting in up in his unzipped swag. I accidentally startled him pretty badly as he thought I was still my swag, and as soon as he'd calmed down a bit, he said, did you see it? I immediately thought he was talking about the blue light, and I replied with, yes.

But I was quite taken aback when he then asked, did you see its face? Again, I forgot to add the picture. Here's the map attached to this post, and then he attaches the picture, but yeah, you can see exactly what he's talking about. And then he continues, his story said, as he told it, one like this. He was awakened by some disturbance, which was likely me getting out of my swag. And I think swag is sleeping bag.

And he lay there for a minute or two before deciding that he too needed to answer a call of nature. Just as he had unzipped his swag and sat up, he saw somebody across the other side of the dam. He initially thought it might have been me checking the eel traps and he was quite annoyed because they're supposed to be left undisturbed until morning. He was about to yell out to me when the person he could see came into the moonlight. They walked to the farm dam and then on manner. He said they seemed to push their chest out with each step in a pulse like motion, bent down at the edge and pulled in the eel trap by the rope. Then they picked the trap up and started walking back towards the creek away from the dam. Now at this point he's beginning to think

that it was someone who had traveled up the creek and was trying to poach his eels and traps, so he yelled out to them at the top of his lungs to, and I quote, drop that shit. In a split second, the person dropped the trap, went down on its hands and knees and turned directly towards my friend in a lizard-like motion, and the effect it had on him was incredible. He says it was almost like this thing's face was telescopic, and it jumped out at him from the other side of the dam. And by this point, in the story, he was, was beginning to sob, and I was telling him to stop talking and calm down a bit, but he continued with the story anyway. He seemed to be in serious shock. He was literally frozen with fear when the

face jumped at him, and the creature then turned away towards the creek, where he described its movements to be very similar to that of a crocodile entering the water. A few interesting notes. Again, I'm not an artist, but I have attempted to draw the face as he explained. See, he attached a picture. And then he attaches a picture, and I guess this is kind of the nose. It kind of looks like a Gumba from Mario and its eyes. I mean, this doesn't really look like anything I've ever seen before. I know this guy's not the best artist, but yeah, very interesting shape. Maybe like a gorilla face almost. I don't know.

And then he continues saying, I'm not sure if the red lines above the mouth are whiskers or another facial structure. and from memory, he wasn't sure either. I never heard him yell out to the creature, even though I was only about 50 meters away from the camp. I think it's a fair assessment that the lights I saw and the creature my friend saw were probably connected in some way. It was a new moon that night, so it was impossible for the creature to be illuminated by moonlight,

as my friend explained. The only explanation I can think of is that the lights I saw somehow illuminated it. At sunrise, the eel trap was out of the water on the ground between the farm dam and creek, but I did not find any footprints or marks at all around it despite the ground being a soft clay. To me personally, this adds credence to my friend's story because if he moved the trap and faked serious shock in order to make up a scary sort to tell to me, then his footprints would be undoubtedly be around the trap.

I sat with him for the rest of the night and he calmed down a bit. And we left about an hour after first light. I gathered up the eel traps but released the eels, as I didn't have the knowledge of how to store or transport them in the tank on my friend's truck, and he just wanted to get off the property as quick as possible. I didn't tell him about the lights I saw, and he never asked why I answered yes to his first question if I didn't see the creature. I still go out and collect eels with them occasionally,

but he will not talk about what happened that night at all. I did speak to an Aboriginal anti-female elder whose family has lived in the area for literally thousands of years and she basically just went, yeah, bunyip, completely nonchalantly as if what I had experienced was an everyday occurrence. I don't want to press her too hard for information, but basically they are similar to junjuries, which this tribe calls Julegurs, in that they are an animal-spirit hybrid. However, these bunyips are much more malevolent and if given the chance, we'll drag you into the water and down into a spirit world where they live, to be taken with a grain of salt, perhaps, but very interesting all at the same time.

Well, Lex, those are my stories. Like I said in the beginning, I don't expect you to believe them. Most people don't. I do hope you enjoyed them, though. And if you have any other questions, then feel free to ask. I have a couple of other anecdotal things that have happened to me over the years that I might type out either tonight or some other time. Lastly, I'd just like to apologize for my grammar and spelling errors. I did double check, but it's likely that a couple may have slipped through. I'd also like to apologize for the spelling of the Aboriginal words. I basically spelled them phonetically as I have never seen them actually written down. So someone posted on here, detailing the unusualness of their fiancée, which triggered me to write this post. About my fiancee.

I'm getting close to the end of my rope. If possible, I'd like any advice at all. This all started happening a few weeks ago. My fiancé seemed radiantly happy, going about making wedding plans when her mood suddenly took a 180. I was late getting home from work that day, and when I got home, the entire house was dark. It was 7 p.m. on a summer evening, though, so the lack of lights wasn't too disturbing. But I know this girl, and she loves having tons of lights on everywhere. We regularly argue about her leaving the bedside light on when she sleeps. She's scared of the dark, which I find adorably childish thing about her. Normally she comes running to greet me with a bundle of endless chatter asking me how my day was, a pretty bug she'd seen

while she was out walking, what sort of things she'd done around the house, but it was completely silent and still when I got in. Thinking she might be upstairs, I went looking for her, only to find empty. At this point, I was more curious than anything and sent her a text. I heard my text tone for her phone register inside the wall. Picture not my fiancee, just some random chick. At first, my mind was a blank. But then it occurred to me, she was for some reason in the loft room which butted up against our bedroom. The loft room is in the unrefurbished part of the house, which is a farmhouse of 175 years. The floor is broken in. It's full of shit thrown in from years of remorse. modeling, a kitchen island, an honest-to-goodness icebox, and there's a little set-up steps,

no more than a glorified ladder, really, leading to a little loft. The loft is about a 10-by-10-foot space of ancient warped boards, nails jutting out and sheet insulation. There's a tiny little room that was put up in probably the 1950s. That's no more than a closet. It's maybe five and a half to six feet long, only big enough to put in a bed. There's hooks in it to hang clothes. no windows or electricity. My fiancé, understandably, thinks this room is incredibly creepy. She rarely goes in except to throw in, brick-a-brack, and store her garden supplies. So I went back through the house to get to the loft and called up to her.

No response. So I went up the rickety little set of stairs and peeked into the loft. There she was, sitting on the floor of the little loft room, knees drawn to her chest, arms raised up to her face. and blood freaking everywhere. Q feelings of dread and panic as I rushed over to her. She was sitting in a bed of glass, which was slowly turning from white to red. She had rivers of blood running down her forearms, shins, knees, and face.

I managed to extract her from the pile without doing more damage to her. The whole time I kept asking, what was wrong and how had this happened? but got absolutely no response. Her eyes were so wide, I could practically see the whites around her irises. Her face was deathly pale, but I couldn't tell if it was shock or the lack of blood. She was dead cold. Not wanting to tempt fate, I took her to the hospital. Luckily, only a few of the cuts needed stitches, and none on her face.

But she ended up swaddled in bandages. While she really didn't need blood, the doctors gave her an IV with fluid. and she eventually came around from her deep state of shock. I stayed with her through the whole thing, knowing she would probably be scared if she was alone. Until that moment, she didn't seem to really register her surroundings. So when she looked at me and reached out to hold my hand,

I knew she was somewhat back. I asked her what had happened, and she only shook her head. She's honestly not very good at explaining long and detailed events, but I grilled her. Eventually, I managed to extract some details. She had been making dinner when she had heard something upset in the loft room. And I think he meant to say upstairs in the loft room.

She went to go investigate and found a stack of boards had fallen almost onto the stairs. And she went to push it back up. When she was up in the loft, she became curious of the little loft room, which she had never really wanted to investigate and went in. She had only been in there for a few minutes picking through the stuff in it before something blocked out the light behind her. She couldn't really explain it. She started making excuses, saying she didn't want to talk about it because she was scared.

After nearly 10 minutes of persuading her, she said she thought it was a man. But he had moved into the room so fast. He had a paint of glass that hadn't been used in the restoration, and when she'd step back to defend herself, and subsequently fallen, he smashed the thing over her. But here's the thing. She said it didn't really hit her. It was like the glass had detonated with the force of a bomb before it had,

and the man had darted out of the room and around the corner, where she heard footsteps circling her room rapidly. This went on for some time before she heard me enter the house. Then the footsteps descended the loft room, and the door from the loft room to the outside opened and shut. but she was so scared. It was like she couldn't move. She got my text and still she couldn't move.

Eventually I got the gist and found her in the loft. She wanted to scream at me to run, to be careful, that the man was still around, but she couldn't move her speak. I dug her out of the glass, took her out to the car, and she said she couldn't see any evidence of the man at all. I wanted to file a police report, but she was adamantly against it. I eventually let it drop. intending to tell my large and well-armed family about the incident.

And this is just me budding in, but why the fuck would you not do a police report? Even if she was adamantly against it, she claimed some man broke into the house and hit her in the face of the glass. And now you're just going to let it drop? This is a very serious thing to just be so casual about. But anyways, it didn't occur to me at the time to tell her not to tell anyone else. We went home with the warning of infections and changing bandages and acceptable. She seemed terrified to fall asleep and cried intermittently on the way home. When you're pulling into the driveway, she admitted to me she couldn't explain anything about the man.

Maybe the pain of glass had fallen on her and her mind had made up the rest. I agreed it was a possibility, and she actually seemed comforted. She fell asleep on the couch. I sat up for some time, unable to sleep. Her good humor resumed, but slightly cautiously. She went back to wedding planning. and I told my family to be on the lookout for the man. And then nearly a week after the first incident,

I came home early for lunch one afternoon. The kitchen was empty. But the doors leading to the loft room were open. I walked over to investigate and found my fiancé looking into the open door of the loft room with a long, wicked-looking knife in her hand. She's small but can exhibit extreme fits of strength while in a fit of fear or anger.

I've seen her go through a branch on a maple with a machete, so I kept my distance and asked her in a clear and loud voice what she was doing. She nearly jumped out of her skin, reached out, and slammed the door shut. She said she thought she'd heard something in the loft room. I fetched a gun, loaded it with some slugs, and ascended the stairs. Empty and still, the pile of bloody glass was still there. There was a sharp snap at the bottom of the stairs, and I immediately turned. The screen door to the outside of the house had just clicked shut. The wooden storm door was open with a great gaping gash in it.

I went back down the stairs to find my fiancé, only to see her outside, by the tall grass in the yard that separated us from the hayfield next to our house. She had her knife raised, and as I watched, leapt into the grass. I felt like I couldn't move fast enough. I was about to hit the door on my fiancé's tiny little voice chirped up behind me. Did you find anything? Sad, bedraggled and bandaged. She stood there anxiously, clasping her hands together. I told her I didn't.

I was not going to go outside. I was going to keep my shotgun handy, and if I got any visitors that night, I was going to shoot them. As it was, I did get a number of strange phone calls that night. I was called into work, only to find that the person who had supposedly called me confused, They hadn't called and nothing was wrong. I had brought my fiancé along with me. She was eager to not be alone in the house.

The second we pulled into the driveway of the house, I got another phone call. The same person calling me for the same reason and flipping out to the point where he was screaming. But there was no background noise. In my line of work, it's messy, it's dirty and it's always, always loud. This guy sounded like he was standing in a quiet room. I just hung up the phone and told my fiancé, it was nothing. I turned off my phone and we went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night to my fiancee shifting.

I thought she was getting out of bed. When I sat up, I saw her standing at the far window, just staring, kind of shifting back and forth from foot to foot. I went over there to ask her, what was wrong? She said she was watching the man in the lawn. If she took her eyes off of him, he would move and come into the house. She was protecting me.

I looked out and could see nothing. The halogen light installed when I first moved in, cast light all the way to the road. All I could see were shadows. I realized she was probably sleepwalking and she wouldn't notice the difference of being in front of the window or being in bed. So I let her back, lay her down,

and plastered myself to her. She fell immediately to sleep and didn't move again the whole night. It was a little disturbing. And when I woke up, I felt a blind little moment of panic. I shook her. And when she didn't respond, called her name and shook her harder. Eventually, she stirred, making upset little chirping noises, so I let her fall back asleep with a kiss. Then I noticed these scratches on her back. They weren't nearly as bad as the cut she sustained before, but I could see where a couple of them had reopened. Little trickle, of blood were running onto the bed. In fact, so I woke her up anyway. She would freak out if she woke

up in a pool of her own blood. I persuade her to come downstairs, informing her she'd scratched her back, and she, matter-of-factly told me it hadn't been her. It had been the man with the crazy eyes. What the hell? She'd mumbled this, and she sounded half asleep, so I put this aside and let her downstairs. Now, the stairs, for whatever reason, have another normal bedroom door attached them at the bottom. So you have to open it before you get all the way down. Occasionally, it will be left open, or even partially open, by fiancé or I. This morning, it was open and crack, and I could see someone in the crack looking up at us as we descended. I let go of my fiance and ran down the rest of the stairs, intending to hit the door and smash the face of the

person. They wouldn't have been able to get away in time. Indeed, I felt a satisfactory thump as the door hit something solid. And then it just kind of melted. Like the resistance was bleeding out of it. The face that was turned up, watching us turned into a figure darting past the door. An instant later, I heard a clatter in the loft room and the screen door slamming.

Fiancé suddenly tears past me and out the front screen door. I had not at all been prepared for this and missed my opportunity to grab her as she passed. By the time I hit the front door, she's racing at a clump of weeds and long grass rustling, but she's only halfway across the lawn. I shouted her, and she stops dead. I put on a burst of speed and catch up to her. Fight ensues, we go back inside. I'm furious she ran after the thing. She had been furious and was contrite. She really didn't know what had come over her. At this point, I'm starting to get wary of leaving

her alone in the house and take her to work with me. We don't talk about what we saw or what happened, This turns out to be a good thing. By the way, sorry about the wait. I had the last post ready to put up and apparently forgot to submit or something. Indeed, I do have to work. So forgive the excessively long wait in between some posts. My story is about to wrap up shortly anyway. We get back at a responsible time and have dinner.

The only downfall is the overwhelming scent of gas. At first, I was afraid the stove had been left on or there was a gas leak. Nothing of the sort. We eventually figured it to be the smell of methane, and something had probably died somewhere. We spent the rest of the daylight hours trying to figure out where it was, because the smell seemed to travel. We eventually pinned it to the outside corner of the kitchen, and we both went outside to investigate. We didn't find any dead animals. We did find two clear footprints of a person in bare feet, standing in the soft soil of the garden, right in front of the window.

right in front of the window. We went back inside without really discussing it. We made sure everything was locked and secure. I latched the door to the loft room for the first time. It's an eyelash, so there's no way to open it from the loft room. We went to bed shortly thereafter. Fiancee closed the door and then moved the trash in front of it. That night, my fiancé woke up talking in her sleep no less than five times.

As you can imagine, neither of us slept that great. I went into work feeling like shit, alone this time because fiancé insisted on staying at home. And I just have to butt in again, why hasn't this guy called the police and why would he leave his fiancee at home again? Like, what is this guy doing? But anyways, it continues saying there was quite a stir at work when I got there. Apparently my uncle had shot a very strange animal. While we weren't really DEC crazy, apparently they thought bringing this mystery animal to them was probably for the best. It was in the back of his truck and curious I went over to see it.

It looked like some sort of badly constructed dog. Its forelegs and chest were remarkably bigger than its hind quarters. Its feet were candid but hairless, and the toes had a prehensile look to them. Its face was the worst, though. I'm really sorry about all this delay. I was hit with a mountain of work after I made that last post. It's getting harder and harder to type the further along that go, because I don't like to remember how it ends. The dog frightened me, but my relatives decided that it was extremely malnourished dog with Mange.

I was quick to agree with them. I had enough spooky shit going on without making things up to fright myself. The dog distracted me well enough for a while, but later on the day, I began to worry about my lady. I don't know why I let her stay home alone. She was never particularly brave. But when I had left that morning, she seemed so determined. She was usually agreeable, so I was surprised by this. I was so surprised by her demeanor and I was running late, so I let her stay home alone.

I regret it bitterly. I called her when I finally got my half-hour lunch break. There was no answer. I couldn't stand it any longer. What if something had happened to her? I told my manager that my wife was sick and that I needed to go home right away. I don't think he believed a word I said, but I didn't care. I jogged in my car and did about 4.20 the whole way home.

When I got there, the front door was hanging wide open and there were. no lights on inside. I had a flashback to that first night that I found her alone in the and I bolted inside. I'm not trying to sound like a hero or anything, but I rushed inside with no thought for my own safety or well-being. I was focused on one thing and one thing only, protecting the woman I loved. I came through the front door like a man possessed. I don't know if it was the adrenaline or the fear, but I was sweating. The living room was empty. Looking around frantically, I started calling for her when I heard shuffling in the kitchen. Whatever was in the kitchen was casting a large and misshapen shadow, far larger than my fiancé could cast.

I grabbed my handgun from the concealed safe in the living room. I have several in different places around the house and rushed around the corner, barely having time to load the thing before I did. Imagine my surprise when the kitchen was empty. I almost put a slug in my refrigerator, the poor bastard. The adrenaline had turned to rage. Someone or something was hurting the woman who depended to the woman who depended. on me and now it was toying with me. I was and am no one's play thing. I needed to control my emotions. I needed it to think. The loft room. That's where this whole thing had started. And that's where I would end it.

A grim determination came over me. I chambered around as I started up the stairs. I reached the darkened room. I somehow knew what I'd find before I found it. In the rooms were two figures. One of them was my fiance, but it wasn't my fiance, not really. It was a dark, twisted, misshapen version of her. She was disfigured like the dog. I knew immediately who the other figure was. I was finally meeting the man. The monster that was my fiance approached me slowly and stampered. I did this to save you. I love you. Goodbye. No. My reply was quick and final. So were the two nine-millimeter slugs that tore through the man's chest.

I would not let any man or monster take her from me. She was mine no matter what she looked like. I loved her. I buried the man in the woods. It wasn't easy explaining to my family and the police, for that matter, what had happened to my fiancé. I simply said I found her that way. And she wasn't quite well enough in the head to tell anyone anything who was.

besides that she loved me and that I hadn't hurt her. There have been no incident since. We're scheduled to be married next month. When I was nine years old, 1999, I ran away from home. My father was a machinist and worked late nights, and my mother was my teacher. I was homeschooled and only knew those two people. My father was an abusive alcoholic and used to beat me,

but never laid a hand on my mother. We lived in an underdeveloped business area in rural Alaska, miles from suburbia. It wasn't uncommon for business to start and tank within the same year, so when I left, I found an abandoned building and decided to make it my home there. I found a small broken window that led to the basement of a four-story building, and I broke in. There were signs that other people had come into this building before me. And me not really knowing how to talk to people, had me very fructive. I explored for hours. The third and fourth floor were in bad condition. There were holes in

the walls as if someone had come in and just smashed them, broken chairs, tables, cabinets, all sorts of things. I found a room with a pushlock on the door and decided to make my camp there. This was during a period where we only had sun for about six hours a day, so without natural light, this building was pitch dark and beyond freezing. In what I imagined was the middle of the night. When I dozed off, I heard glass shattering and the sound of a man screaming as if he was writhing and pain. It sounded as if he was breaking everything he could get his hands on. His voice seemed to split where he was screaming and wheezing as if it were two people.

This terrified me. Even though I had the door locked and was on a different floor, I still worried for my safety. I flicked my lighter on and burned some manila-fingled. folders to look around the room. I found a hole in the wall that was just big enough for me to fit in, so I dove in and crawled as far back as I could go. The man screamed for hours and wheezed. It sounded like he was being hurt, but he was the only one there. Eventually, the screaming stopped. I heard his footsteps echo in the staircase between rooms. He made it to the floor I was on, and it sounded like he was dragging something behind him. He went into a different room and shattered some

glass. He kept doing this for a while, but never made a sound himself. I pissed myself in the wall now, terrified he punched through the wall the next room, and discover me. Eventually, he was silent for too long. I never heard him leave, and although I was tired, I feared falling asleep, for if I snored, he might discover me, and what would he do? After some quiet hours, the doorknob to the room I was in shook. It shook a few more times, and then I heard a He took a key, placed it in the door, and unlocked it. He stepped in and stayed silent for a few minutes. He left the room walking.

Then he started running around in other rooms and dragged something into the room adjacent to mine. Through the wall, I could only hear a crackling sound. Then he started to chew very loudly and exclaim what he was eating was delicious. I didn't make a sound. I hadn't found any food in that building during my exploration, so he must have brought something in. I didn't make a sound. I hadn't found any food in that building during my exploration, so he must have brought something in. Would you like some?

He said in a hush tone. I didn't respond. I imagined he was talking to himself. Ever get the feeling you're being watched? He laughed to himself. I just know someone is here. He rattled on while chewing and making that horrible cracking sound. I'd really like a dinner guest sometime.

I had a little bit of a little bit of a little. I had a lump in my throat I could not swallow. I had to clear it so bad, but I feared what this guy would do if I did, so I stayed quiet. I was so utterly terrified and cold from all of the windows being smashed and being wet from my piss, I almost cried. I'm going to give you till the count of five. I didn't dare move. One, I closed my eyes so tightly. Two, he couldn't have known I was in here.

Three, I didn't know about God at the time, but I believe I prayed to some sort of higher being. Four, I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Five, anyone silent. There were no noises for a long time. It may have been an hour, but I'm not sure. I nodded off from pure exhaustion, and when I woke up, it was still pitch black. I started to scuffle a little bit, totally forgetting where I was, and I froze when I realized. I didn't hear anything, so I waited for another few minutes, then left the wall. I exited

the small hole and walked out of the room. The upstairs area was littered with drywall glass, cigarette butts, alcohol cans, and debris. I couldn't remember where the stairwell was to leave, so I had to explore all over again. I eventually ended up in the room where the man spent the majority of his time, and that's when it all clicked. The room was covered in shit in blood. A deer carcass had been ripped apart in the room, and its intestines draped all over it. They hung through ceiling tiles and over desk like a canopy. I only realized when I smacked my face into a piece of his organs strewn across the walls. Remember, it was pitch black. I let some more folders on fire and looked across the room. The skull had teeth marks punctured into it, and the eyes

and teeth had been thrown around the room. I didn't know what to make of any of this, so I broke down crying. I left the building and continued onward towards my home. When I arrived, my mother yelled at me for being gone for three days. She quickly stopped when she saw I was covered in blood. When I explained the story, my father sat down with me and explained that this is why he keeps us away from other people, because this is what they do. I was terrified of people and lived with my parents and did not speak to any other people besides the two of them until I was 20 years old and moved out when my mother died and my father told me I was never really his son I've lived a very strange life I am 27 now and live on my own in Alaska and wow that was just a short but impactful story that was

crazy I mean who knows what was in there with him I mean in the middle of cold Alaska Like could have been some crazy homeless guy? Maybe? Eating a dead deer? Or was it a skinwalker of some sort? I don't know. I don't like to immediately jump to Supernatural, but it seems almost supernatural. A crazy story. And I just hope the OPE is doing better now.

And before we get into this next thread, I have to give a quick little rundown. So basically, this O.P. starts posting to a 4chan thread asking about mushrooms and what type of mushrooms are safe to eat in which are psychedelic or which are poisonous. And yeah, I'm just going to give that quick little rundown, try not to spoil a lot of it. Let's get into it. The Opie joins the thread and says,

is this a psychoblin mushroom or is it a carté? And then he posts more pictures and a little more. And then he posts the pictures of them. And you can just see the mushrooms growing out of mulch. Mouc will be important later. He then posts another picture growing out of mulch and dirt. And then a comment. replies to the O.P. saying, if it is, it looks like cyclobly synastasines. I can't wait for you guys

to make fun of me in the comments for that. Take a spore print looking for purple slash gray or purple slash black spores. I am not an expert, just a R word with a mushroom book. And then he posts a picture of what the real mushrooms look like or the cycloblin or whatever and then the one it's compared to. And then the OPE posts in another thread saying, just watch these. They what to do I expect because I'm not 100% sure on identification. And I didn't mess up that time. That was just what the OPE said. And then someone replies saying, they are neither edible or magic, maybe a tabernia or Lassitera species. And then the Opie responds saying, are you sure? I'm in North Carolina. And then the OPE says, I ate some. Am I going to?

to die. What the fuck was the O.P.'s thinking here? The commenter literally said, 15 minutes prior, they are neither edible or magic. And then 15 minutes later, the O.P. replies saying, I ate some. Am I going to die? Posting a picture, yeah, insane thinking by the O.P. But then the commenter replies to the O.P. saying, very sure. I'm guessing you thought they were some cycloblin mushrooms. In North Carolina, you would rarely find P. Cuminousins and cow manure, or P. Samalganesena, God, that was really bad, in damp fields.

The species these resemble P. Sinassacines is only in the Pacific Northwest. In North Carolina, you are not going to find any, just letting you know now before you waste time. And then the commenter replies to the O.P. when he said, I ate some, am I going to die? And then a commenter says, you could. Tabaria can cause kidney slash liver failure. Did you find them in wood chips or mulch? If you aren't trolling, go make yourself vomit. Remember when I said mulch would be important later?

Yeah. And then some commenter says rip opi. And then another commenter adds saying, oh, and here's a photo of Tiberia for feria, whatever the fuck that's said. The species you just ate, just so you know I'm not full of shit and I really hope he didn't eat any

of the small ones in the bag which are way deadlier and looking at the bag it seems like you have more than just one species I think I might see a galernia mixed in there and it only takes one of those to kill you

and then the commenter adds on saying what I suspect the small one is and then someone else says reverse search that image it's a goddamn amotoxin mushroom Jesus OP, I really hope for you that isn't one of the things you snacked on. Someone else says, he's going to die, huh? Yeah, this is not looking hot for the OP.

And then the OP replies to the mulch question saying, Oh shit, I found it's in mulch. And then a commenter replies saying, yeah, go vomit. The poisoning for glenuria takes three days to kick in. And there are zero symptoms until you wake up with John Disse in a failed. liver. I would honestly admit yourself to a poison control center. Bring the mushrooms with you. And mulch confirms the Tiberia ID. They are Tiberia and possibly some galenaria. You literally got the worst to lookalikes for a magic mushroom that doesn't even grow in your region. And then the

commenter says, fuck, are you 100% sure? And then the commenter replies saying, yours are more mature. These spores have started filling in and coloring the gills. At this point, I can guarantee the ID. And then the OP response saying, I'm trying to puke, but I can't. And then the commenter says, Poison Control Center. This is why you don't eat random mushrooms.

And then someone else says, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, dead man's post, I love it. That's what you get, you dumb plumber. And then, yeah, this is not looking good. And then the OOP says, help. Oh God, I can't go to the hospital. I have THC in me. Oh boy. And then someone else says, if the alternative is liver failure, I'd get your priority straight. And then someone else says, am I being trolled? Are we about to watch someone die? And then someone else says,

something neat. Apparently a large number to possibly even the majority of the reported fatalities caused by that mushroom explicitly happened because the victims mistook them. for magic mushrooms. And someone else says, exactly, it used to be common for hippies to go around and just eat random brown mushrooms in areas they grew, hoping to get the right ones. Probably like a one in 400 chance. Keywords used to.

It was before there were proper ID books circulating. Oh boy. And then the OP replies saying, I can't go to the hospital. I've been trying to throw up for 10 minutes. I'm freaking out. I need to calm down. I am in North Carolina.

And then someone makes a post saying, BOP, create Reddit thread asking for ID. Take the first response as a fact and need this room. Oh shit, what am I doing? Make this thread die. And yeah, that's kind of making fun of the OPE in a dire situation. But I mean, it kind of sums it up. And then someone else says,

this was the small one I was worried about being picked. I'm not sure what to tell you. Try drinking about a teaspoon of dish soap. That has worked for me in the past. you can't confirm that it hasn't been partially absorbed at this point though so you need to go to the hospital if you don't want to spend the next week waiting for imminent organ failure geez and then the opi makes a new thread and the third and final thread saying hello i posted about a mushroom about six hours ago i have been in the hospital with a sample and they are now monitoring my vitals and then he says ask me anything mates It was actually an amatoxin mushroom, and then he posts a picture of the hospital as proof. And then there's this article here that says almost 50 of the more than 5,000 species of mushrooms are poisonous to humans. The aminita species are reputed to be responsible for 90% of fatal mushroom poisonings worldwide.

However, aminita poisoning is uncommon in North America. Most fatalities resulting from mushrooms ingestion are associated with amatoxins within the mushrooms. Amatoxins represent one of the three major. groups of cyclo-peptides in addition to phallotoxins and viroxins that are heat-stable, insoluble in water, and not destroyed by drying. At least five subtytes are amatoxin exist. The most significant of these are the alpha and beta subtypes of amin. So this is today's moral of the story. Don't eat random mushrooms guys and then someone says you mean this one? Nice going our word. And then someone says hey I'm the anon who identified them

and told you to do to the hospital. So they confirmed the ID? I'm glad you actually took advice and headed in. I would ask why you can't use the same threat instead of making three, but you've already proven yourself as a total idiot, so I already have my answer. So how much you got in your system? And are you aware that even if you survive,

you may be about to go down in slash an infamy forever? This is like that time the kid on FIT took a near fatal dose of vitamin K and melted his liver. And then the O.P replied saying, Actually, I should be okay. The hospital said my body didn't absorb much at all. It barely showed in a tox report. They will monitor me for a bit and I should be gone.

Also, note to self, don't smoke six grams of loud and try to find mushrooms. And then someone says, nice going O.P. We are waiting for your obituary. Someone else says, glad you're all right. Just loud from now on, please. Someone else says, a moose will die via a gun because he found a nice, an area for getting the best greens. Meanwhile, OPE ignores everything he has been taught about not eating wild

mushrooms and ignored two threads full of people telling him they are not edible. This is why we aren't evolving. And wow, that's just a wild ass 4chan thread. This one isn't scary. It's just insane and just a good moral. Don't eat wild mushrooms. And I kind of wonder if this guy's a troll, but I don't think it is. I think people are just kind of that dumb.

Some people out there, where they just eat mushrooms after someone telling them not to eat mushrooms. And then they go to the hospital after that. Yeah, this was just a crazy thread. And I was actually worried for the OPE because I hadn't read the ending to this before I recorded. So I was kind of getting worried there for a second. I'm like, oh shit. Is OPE about a die? Well, it sounds like he's okay, which is great.

And on to the next one. I go someplace when I dream. You likely don't remember me, which is fine. I'm forgettable in real life, so I am accustomed to that. But some time ago I posted here concerning troubling dreams, wherein I visit the foundry or refinery. I know nothing about industrial buildings, why I might dream of one every night,

and where I'm getting the imagery is such a mystery to me. Literally every night, without fail, I appear in the same spot, curled up on the floor of what appears to be an abandoned and decaying industrial building. At first, it was novel, then became distressing. But while I still talk about it in therapy, it's no longer an unwelcome experience. Instead, I regard it as a sort of second home. There's nothing especially welcoming about it, but in exploring the foundry, I've discovered the layout is persistent, and anything I break or move remains that way in the next dream.

Additionally, the machinery makes no sense. I don't know much about how such machinery works, which is why I figured this was the case, but I'm not an idiot. I know what a gear does, what a pissing does, but in the dream, the machinery is assembled as though by someone with no conception of what machinery is in general. Gears working against each other, belts drive and wheels, which drive belts, which drive wheels back to the original wheel with no apparent purpose. It became difficult to accept that my own subconscious.

was coming up with it, and then someone joins the thread and says, go on. And the O.P. continue saying, at the recommendation of my therapist, I began mapping it out on a paper and taking note of anonymaries. For example, on some items there are labels or other blurbs of text in a language that I don't recognize. I can see abstract shapes while dreaming, but they change as I move the object and look at it from different angles. And I cannot clearly recall any individual character when I awaken. In every dream, I am wearing whatever I had on when I went to bed. I began to experiment by stripping off my clothing in the dream. Of course, when I woke up, I was still wearing that clothing. I don't know what I expected to happen. Once I began mapping and experimenting,

a new element of the dream appeared, one or more people following and monitoring me. I would initially never see them, only hear their footsteps on walkways above. me, fleeing when I'd try to chase them. There is a light coming through windows, but it cannot be natural sunlight. It is a rich shade of sickly orange, and while shadows cast by the sun are all perpendicular to one another, shadows cast by lights coming into the windows are at angles as it suggests the light source is much closer. I've tried on many occasions to wipe clean the dirty windows so I can see where the light

comes from or to break them with rocks and rusted tools. Neither works. All of the while, I hear the shifting feet of watchers lingering nearby. At any rate, the last time I posted here, you requested that I learned 3D software so that I could provide a map of the area I have explored so far. I apologize if this is crude, but it's the best way I can do with what I've learned in that time. I have color-coded the various relevant positions, so I can refer to them if you have questions.

The yellow rounded room with the tall windows is, where I wake up. The green room contains the rows of machinery, the orange things. The blue cylinder is a shaft containing a spiral staircase, with several decks at intervals on the way down. These rounded, carved out rooms seemingly concrete or very smoothly cut rock, contain cages all around the outer wall. Sometimes sound or movement comes from them, but they are dark. I cannot see what they contain, and they are colloqued. One is open and empty. And then he links a picture of the 3D render, and you can see the green room where he wakes up,

the orange machinery, in the room where the machinery is in, and then these weird, like, cage, concrete rooms. And then it continues saying, for a long time, I thought the spiral staircase was endless. I shortened it on the 3D map for the sake of showing everything in one picture. It continues for such a distance that unless I devote the entire duration of my dream, in the dream to descending it, I don't remember the box. bottom before waking up. For that reason, I haven't explored much at the very bottom beyond what you see here. The staircase ends in what looks like some type of old-fashioned office, a rusting metal chair at a wooden desk

with a few filing cabinets to one side, looking out over an abyss. Outside, it becomes apparent that the room hangs by the concrete shaft containing the stairwell from the roof of a massive subterranean cavern. Outside, there are a few platforms hanging from the cavern roof by chains, with wooden walkways between them. Below, rather than darkness, there are what look like slowly moving gray storm clouds. I've thrown stuff down into that abyss.

I never hear an impact, nor can I see any walls of the cavern. The ceiling of it seems to stretch on for miles, receding into darkness. Here is another shot of the hanging building in the cavern which gives a better sense of scale, and to be honest, I don't have the original thread, so I can't really see anything in that picture.

Let me know if you guys see anything, but I don't see anything. And then you continue saying the platform has originally had some rotting cardboard boxes and tools on them, all of which I have long since dropped off the edge trying to get a sense of how deep the cavern is, to no avail. The clouds below look exactly as you might expect storm clouds to look from an airplane. I am powerfully curious to know what is below them, but too frightened to let myself drop from one of the hanging platforms in order to find out. It isn't clear what would happen. I used to have normal dreams, and some night, no dreams at all. This just started all of a sudden one night and continued ever since, never letting up.

If it were someplace pleasant, representative of my desires, it would be explicable. But if I feel anything while there, it is cold, wary, and slightly nauseous. There is a sense that something is wrong about the place. The angles, the colors, the nonsense machinery, every electrical. light as they are emitting the exact sickling orange light that also comes in through the windows, presumably from outside. There's very little variation in color, from grays to very subdued browns. It feels like decay everywhere. Sometimes I try to fix the machinery, usually without results since it was apparently never designed to work in the first place, but occasionally I can

rearrange it into something that at least moves or makes noise when activated. I feel most intensely washed while doing this. Like my observers are trying to learn what the machinery means to me and how it's supposed to be assembled. My therapist is too confident in her interpretations, and they are flattering to an uncomfortable degree. She believes that the incompetently designed abstract do-nothing machinery represents my frustration with an inefficiently organized in operated society, in my struggles to fix some of it and make

it work to whatever small degree. represents struggles in my day-to-day life to change the order of things for the better. This is entirely, in my view, a product of her fondness for me. She is too impressed by what is objectively a pretty dull person, except for these strange nighttime escapades. Perhaps she feels sorry for me. And then he replies to somebody saying, No, I've never tried to write anything in the dreams.

I apologize for the delay. I was having trouble getting anything by your CAPTCHA system. It has been a long time since I posted here. I can try riding. I expect some anti-climatic result, like when I experimented with clothing. The experience seems designed to thwart any effort to pry it apart and see it from the outside.

Literally, with regards to my efforts to get outside of the building, I have this lingering, deep-seated suspicion that if I could see what's outside it, it would answer many of my questions about that place. And the new response to another question saying, the parts are not the same from machine to machine. They are in some places similar, but never of identical dimensions. The tools are seemingly random in shape.

It isn't obvious that they're even designed to do anything. I've searched for similar tools online and found nothing. Some change shapes slightly if I look away even for a moment. Then look back. I've managed to use them awkwardly. To affect minor repairs only because some are coincidentally shaped such that I can use them as levers or are badly fitting wrenches. Some implements found mainly on the cage levels aren't tools so far as I can tell.

They have sharp jutting points or blades. They might be weapons, but they have hinges, handles, all the trappings of tools. Not all can even be used safely without injuring the user. Who designed them and what are they for? I feel like the answers are outside the building. but the harder I try to escape the further, away it becomes. Something always prevents it. There's this strong sense that it's a charade,

an inward-facing bubble of illusion, like the set of a television show. If I could find some hole in it, somewhere that the builder forgot to patch up and get outside, I'm certain I'd see it for what it really is. If there is a world outside of it, I cannot imagine it will simply be a city, or countryside, or anywhere, intuitive.

The cavern seems to preclude that, as does the deep tungsten lights coming in through the tall windows at angles all wrong for sunlight. Perhaps it's all underground, or perhaps there's some land outside of it, with something other than the sun bathing in it, that nauseating orange light. I'm desperate to find out, and in the past few nights, every effort has gone towards probing the furthest reaches the building for some escape. so far nothing and then a random commenter asks have you ever tried holding onto some object like a tool until you woke up to see if you could bring it with you out of the dream and then the opi response saying yes with the same result as the clothing experiment for a time i accepted that as proof positive that it was in fact just a very persistent reoccurring dream I moved from that to taking very seriously the possibility I was losing my mind. Following some soul searching and self-testing, I determined I am still in fact sane,

just rattled by an unusual experience that won't stop. There's something wrong with it, little things. Like there aren't any plants in a lot of these urbex photos of abandoned industrial buildings, there's grass, moss, whatever, not in the dream. no plants, no rats, no living things other than myself. Little things like that, and the chairs aren't all the same size. Some are small enough to not quite be plausibly child-sized, but still difficult to sit in. Others large enough you must hop to get onto them, often skewed at a slight angle,

like slightly melted, like the tools, none of them are right. I can't believe this is, or is a reflection of, any actual industrial building that ever existed. And then someone asked the OP, saying, Didn't you say you saw a creature previously? And the OP responds to this saying, The boy in the overalls. It was exciting when I finally caught him.

I believed he was the source of the footsteps I've been hearing. But even when holding him down, trying to get a look at his face and discovering only a smooth, featureless expensive skin where it should be, smooth as an egg, even then I heard the footsteps and shuffling of nearby observers. He has also been following and watching me, but he isn't one of them. I haven't seen them yet.

I think he used to be in the one cage that isn't locked partway down the stairwell. He got out or someone let him out, possibly that's what's in the rest of the cages. This is a close approximation of the color of the light, and then he links a photo, and he can kind of see the orangish yellow light, and then he continues saying from outside. from the bulbs. Why this color? I thought it was grime on the bulbs or that they were tinted. They aren't tinted. The glass is dingy but clear. All light, regardless of source, is the same gross orange. The only respite from it is darkness. Sometimes I turn off the lights in the stairwell just to escape that color. That was before I found the cages. Now I don't want to be in that

stairwell with the lights off. I can't entertain the thought of being in that cage for more than a moment. That's where the boy in the overalls came from. And I have an unwelcome suspicion that I'm intended to take his place. I avoid it now, but it is always on the back of my mind. Someone asks, also pre-form experiments on the boy, see if he slash she is in pain. Most likely not. If so, try to cut him a mouth. That's a little bit of a sadistic question. But then the opie replies saying, scared. He writhed under me and made muffled distress noises through the skin. There was no jaw movement when he made those noises. If I cut into that smooth face, I'm not certain there'd be teeth and a tongue under it, perhaps just a equally smooth, featureless skull. I think he knows

what is wrong with this place. It could be he was changed to prevent him from telling. I've also thought that he might have been someone else who had this dream, that I might end up like him. If I could see into the cages, it might answer that. I tried rigging up a light on a cord, but the shadow inside had substance, volume, like a mist or cloud. The light only penetrates so far. I can hear something, a grinding and a dull, muffled moaning. I can see hints of motion in the shadow, but nothing more. I hate that part of the building, and don't want to visit it without good reason. And then someone else asks, saying, you just said there were no living things and now you're saying there was a kid? Why didn't you bring this kid up from the start?

And I do agree with that question. I mean, it's kind of weird. He said there was no creatures or people and then he just brings up this kid from out of the blue. But the Opie responds saying, I meant plants and animals. There's no growth typical of abandoned buildings nor rats you'd almost normally find there. The boy is not clearly a normal human being and maybe something like a hallucination. His anitonomy is implausible. There are no. no orifices through which he could breathe, for example, like the machines, there are obvious problems with the logic of how he works. I wish there was some way to communicate.

And then the OP says, the writing idea is novel. I will try that tonight, and I think that's him referring to writing on the pieces of paper he finds. He also says, I'm concerned that if I spend the money on an old camera, I'll just be thwarted again. The recurring theme is that of a carrot dangled in front of me and then yanked away every time I reach for it. This place defies every effort to pin it down and extract details from it beyond what I'm apparently permitted to see and map out. At times, I resign myself to this. At other times, I'm consumed with frustration in the drive to find some way outside to pry

answers from this place when I am content with the mystery of it. I'm for some reason able to venture further, see more, like I'm being punished for trying to color outside the lines. And then someone asks saying if you can supposedly take things into this world and then the opi says i've tried that in both directions in the dream holding in a tool until i woke up while awake and in bed clutching my notebook and trying to take it with me only my clothes make it through i think what is being transferred here is my outer appearance not objects near or on me like a projection i've no strong religious convictions but some degree of spiritual feeling i've never fit into end any organized conception of spiritual belief.

I have no concrete ideas about beings or places. My only experience with that sort of thing is this foundry. I can't say whether it's supernatural. It defies every effort to prove it's anything other than a dream, while simultaneously showing uncanny, impossible to ignore signs that it is a real and persistent location that I somehow visit while unconscious. I would like to see what my brain looks like to an,

fMRI machine while I'm there. I'd volunteer to be studied, but I doubt anyone with access to that equipment would take me seriously enough to go through with it. And then someone says, if you change something in the surroundings, like for example, scratch something on the wall, does it last until your next visit? And someone else says, and anything I break or move remains that way in the next dream. Well, he just answered his own question. He says, it is, in fact, persistent. Everything is each night the way I left it the prior night. That's one aspect that makes it difficult to accept as a recurring dream. Why is it so specific? Why the particular unusual properties that are consistent throughout the structure? Why that color of light from every source? Why no

bathrooms? Why no exsigns? The drawers have no handles. It's like it was built by someone who only had descriptions of factories, refineries, and so on to work from, but didn't actually understand what they are for. I need to understand what's outside to know how much, if any, of my suspicions are accurate. Someone else says, leave something organic, probably some small amount of food. I'm curious if it'll rot until your next visit. And then the O.P says, I can try to bring food with me, but I don't expect I'll have any more success with food than with any other object I've tried to transfer. Is there some removable part of my body, like hair or nails that would show visible signs of decay over time. I'm not going to cut off a finger or something.

I have injured myself, just cuts, in an attempt to see if there would be a fresh wound or at least a scar when I woke up, but there wasn't. But the pain was absolutely real. I can cause pain to myself there and feel it exactly as if I are awake. Hence, my reluctance to drop from the suspended platforms in the cavern. I have no idea what might happen if I die. there. What about feces or vomit? I never feel the need to eat or defecate there, but it stands to reason I should be able to try. And then a commenter makes fun of the OP for that last little bit, posting a picture of some AI, which I guess he thinks are the watchers or whatever, and then the commenter says, oh, for fuck's sake, what is it? It's a test animal. It took a shit in the maze.

Well, clean it up. We can't interfere in any way or ruin the purity of the test. Listen to you, fine, but it's going to be awkward showing students' footage of this with a big stinking human turd right in the middle of the shot. So you're just kind of making fun of the watchers or whatever is in the OPE's dream. And then someone else adds to it saying, test administered to human, time to completion of puzzle, did not complete. Results, human took a dump on the floor, conclusion, not sentient, recommended extermination prior to settlement of Earth. And so that's a little bit of joking that went on during the thread. But then the OPE continues saying, The time you were undressed to yourself in the dream, did you find your clothes where you left them the next time or were they gone?

And the O.P said, gone. I did think of taking them off every time in building a gradually larger pile, anything to try and provoke some kind of intervention from whoever watches me while I'm there. They might have been taken away and burned after I woke or somehow returned to my body as of course I woke up in those same clothes. I could catch the boy in the overalls, but so far I cannot corner the source of the other foot. footsteps. It's more than one person, and they move as a group, but I cannot so much as catch a glimpse of them. There are far many things I want to ask. And then someone else says, Also try and polish metal with your clothes and use as a makeshift mirror. Try to see a reflection. And the OP replied saying, I did this once. I won't do it again. That's very, very ominous.

The OP then continued saying, the least rusted metal surface I could find was a boiler. Boilers aren't usually made of reflective metals to my knowledge, but this one was reflective enough when wiped clean with some spit in my sleeve that I could see myself reflected in it. My face was featureless, identical to the boy in the overalls. It's wrong. Or the reflection was distorted. I can see while I'm there, so obviously I have working eyes. I don't want to try again. I don't want to see that. It's enough to know I have eyes. I can speak so I know I have a mouth. When I touch my face, I can feel my mouth and eyes.

I don't need to see my reflection. I'm not doing that again. It isn't necessary. That's very, very ominous to me and honestly creepy. But someone that says, if this inexperiment, I'm betting everything that is to test the lengths you will go in order to satisfy your curiosity. That includes experimenting on the boy and cutting off a limb. or jumping to your death.

That's either the success or failure condition of the test, and the only surefire way to bring it to a conclusion. And the O.P. replied saying, I'm afraid to try this, but at the same time, what you say makes a lot of sense. But so did an earlier suggestion that I tried to create order and cemetery by returning the boy to its cage, both assume it's a game or a puzzle with some way to win or lose.

That could also be a red herring. Someone else says, what do you see in the therapist about? And the O.P. responded saying, the dreams originally. But she's part of a university training thing for psychology students. She isn't properly qualified, but it's free. I'm no longer distressed by the dreams, nor do I still think I'm losing my mind, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with it.

You have some sense of normalcy and continuity to your life or nothing obviously abnormal happens in day-to-day experience, but it happens to me every night. We aren't made to cope with that. We can handle short bursts of it, but when it's there, night after night and there's no escape, the anxiety makes it difficult to think clearly. Sometimes I get locked in these patterns of thought where I don't want to remember being in the cage room or looking at my reflection, but I am pulled back to it over and over, like a computational loop,

like having to return there every night. And then a commenter says, can you draw one of the rooms up with detail? Not too much just to understand what it looks like. If you could, the room with the machines would be cool from what you would see if you walked in from the door. That was terrible grammar, but I hope you understood that. And then the OPE replied to saying, I can try that for the next thread. I'm not a very good artist. I've been choosing picks that are as close as I can find.

But yeah, if you can tolerate poor drawing skills, I'll do that for the next thread. Based on suggestions, I also intend to draw something with my finger in the grime on a window or to use something. something sharp to carve words into a wall. I'm curious to know whether words I write will be impossible to visually comprehend, or if it's only the language already written someplace in the foundry. And then the OP responds to a question saying, why no mere? The OP said, it has taken a long time to come to terms with this. I'm just now to the point where I've made peace with the knowledge of that, based on what I've seen, this will never end and that each night, regardless of what I want, I have to go back there. It has not so much seen my reflection that I can't,

handle on top of all that. It's what some in this thread have suggested that it means with regards the cage in the boy. Someone else says, I won't lie. Your attitude is weirder than your experience you're describing here. The opi then replies saying, she said acceptance. And adjusting to my new reality would diminish the anxiety. She was right. I have no reason not to trust her advice. And then the OP finally says, I'm so tired. It's 5 a.m. I've put this off longer than. usual. Once I stayed up for as long as I could, it wrecked me, and it was a useless attempt at defiance. In the end, I still woke up in that room so long as I need sleep. I won't be able to stay away longer than a few days. Soon I'll be there again. I'll open my eyes and see the windows,

then the staircase. The full extent of my power to avoid it is caffeine pills and other drugs that can delay this for maybe 72 hours, but it is futile. It's like eating, a calorie-restricted diet just to gain a few years. You still inevitably die. And that is a very ominous ending. And this is like the only other post I can see from the OP known as Foundry Dweller. And even though it doesn't really have a good ending per se, I just, it felt so strange to me. And that's kind of why I read this first story and I'm like, I have to make a video titled Strange Fortune Threads because I just thought this one was so strange, so weird. so unique and honestly, terrifying.

Like not terrifying in like a normal sense, like with scariness and terrifyingness, but this one was more like existential dread. I mean, he kind of perfectly summed it up at the end. I can't escape this and I'll eventually need to go back. And each time he goes back, he feels more unsettled, more or just less comfortable. And I mean, it is kind of just terrifying to realize

that he maybe can't escape this. for who knows how long and there's like these weird creatures and people waiting there for him. I don't know. Very odd and strange thread in general. What were your thoughts on it? Did you enjoy it? Did you think it was interesting or do you just think it was a bunch of random mumbo jumbo? I don't know.

Very interesting and very unique. I've never read any sort of story like that. But yeah, leave your thoughts down below. And all right, guys, that wraps up some strange 4chan threads. I hope he enjoys a day's video. and if you did enjoy, please comment down below what your favorite story was. I read every single comment and please like the video and subscribe to the channel. It means more than you know and it helps more than you know.

And if you enjoy today's video, I'm sure you'll enjoy other videos on the channel. So please check out some other videos. And yeah, follow me on my new Instagram. That helps a lot. And you can get updates on me and my channel or the channel. And yeah, thank you so much for the support. And this is Snook. And I'll see you next time.

Bye.