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Weirdest Thing Just Happened
So I was taking out the trash (at 3:30 in the morning, just because), when I walked into the living room and found the TV on. I swear it hadn’t been on only a few minutes before. Yet I walk right in, and it’s on, and no one was around who could have turned it on.
What’s stranger is that I walk out and a program is just starting; an atmospheric piece with the grim reaper appearing in front of a house, before turning around and walking to the door. And I realized…this is Monty Python. I had come in just as the grim reaper sketch of that one Monty Python movie started.
So out of curiosity, I watched the whole thing through. And just when death got all the stupid house people to the afterlife, the TV went all staticy and the cable turned off. So I turned off the set proper and came back to type this.
I have two theories: 1) the weather caused a brief power surge, making the TV turn on and play whatever happened to be on at the time. And then it reset just as the thing was ending. Or 2) my house is now haunted by a spooky ghost. One that just happens to enjoy Monty Python.
At least it’s got good taste…I’m scared.
Slenderman Story pt 2
that may have stood for a year or five thousand, it felt harder than steel, he gripped his forehead, only feeling the blood from his nose, his cheeks felt numb, he couldn’t feel his fingers wiping furiously at his face, the endless blood, his eyesight leaving him forgotten, his hearing buzzing quietly, like tinnitus in a silent room, ever quieter. The sergeant screaming for help, the little feeling in his tongue felt only vomit or blood, he lowered his hand from his nose to violated mouth, no feeling was left his tongue hanging limply out of his mouth. His mind trying to piece where he was, the only image was of a heightened sense, as if he was nailed to a tree, watching his brothers, his underlings, his family tear each other apart in a frightened frenzy, trying one last time in a last ditch effort to call his friend, the man who pushed him up through the ranks, to try and change how this war was dealt with the corporal, he screamed his name, belting it out only to feel what felt like an organ being thrown up from the depths of his body.
In the Sergeants head, the only sights were of high up, staring down, non shaking, watching faceless children in costumes swing sticks at each other, a massive Thing, in the woods behind them vaguely human, standing like a deranged, bone twisted dog. It’s movement nothing like a creature from this earth, it twisted and wandered into the middle of the patch the children played and stood, rising up a foot higher than normal, it’s wispy white hair fumbled in the slight breeze. As the children played and pranced the creature smiled a smile only known to the devils friends and he himself. The children paid no heed as it stared at what seemed to be where the sergeants mind was staring at them. Watching the faceless children play felt like watching the photographs that come with picture frames come to life. Without a moments notice the children stopped and the air was broken by the sounds of breaking bones, the twisted dog stood on its hind-legs and stamped the tallest of the children down, his head crushed and buried into loose dirt, no scream, lifeless lump of flesh and bone caved into the floor of the woods, the creature never moved a muscle except for its leg, working as a separate entity it continued to stare at the loose mind in the tree’s, the leg lifted back up, the body still attached to the foot only by the the glue of muscle and blood. The children made no effort to cry or scream only to turn and play once more as the dog hunched down and retreated back to its patch, it felt like watching the whole walking over in reverse, his mind refused any more of the images playing in front of him.
The Sergeant screamed and only felt another pitcher of blood and meat pass his throat, calling names to no avail he couldn’t cry, he slumped over his head crashing the floor, his mind made no notice at all, his bruised, barely breathing carcass hit the floor, nothing more, nothing less, 6 and a half dead men, one breathing, and it wasn’t war that tore them apart.
More than 4 days later, the sergeant could feel his brain rebooting, waking up, clattering into a pan, only his foot noticed, his ears never picked it up, his sense of direction went awry, and his temper flared as he gargled an insult at who ever had their hands on his shoulders, he shook and tried to walk, only to hit the floor, he was propped back up onto his feet slowly, his angered boiled the insides of his skull, how dare they lift him up, they had no idea who he was or what he’d seen or experienced really, as all he saw was tree’s and the insides of his own skull. Being helped to walk was humiliating, inhumane and depreciating, he was a large man, twisted and broken he could feel his pride pouring out of the newly closed wounds, either a bullet or a clock to turn the world backwards to decline his choices in the past.
The doctors stared at the sergeant aimlessly walk his way outside the tent, the bearded doctor stared “intense trauma of a degree I haven’t seen before, all senses eroded, he’s a corpse walking son”
The apprentice stared at the glass eyed doctor “was he the hound survivor doctor?”
the doctor stared at him without paying much attention to anything or anyone but the hobbling soldier “Yeah, just the one kid, his friends were never found, just whatever blood was on the ground we found the dogtags and nothing else” the younger doctor could feel only a millionth of the chill that ran through the sergeants spine.