My mum used to clean houses. She quit after this.

This is a creepy encounter posted by WalterDisneey. Estimated reading time: 5 - 8 minutes.

In the mid-80s, my mum was a cleaner in Australia. She would do clean houses in suburban areas and would sometimes do houses in rural/wine regions (we lived near both).

She would leave business cards at the local shops and got most of her business this way, and some through referrals and word of mouth.

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who thought “ah yes, I will get some wood and I will carve some cute little f’s into it and I will put four strings on it and then I will place it under my chin to achieve maximum discomfort, and then I shall rub a hairy syrup stick on it to make noise”

whoever invented the violin was definitely high on something and nothing can convince me otherwise

Creepypasta #715: Secure

Story length: Long

“What is this?” I said looking down at the lengthy and very official document before me. “Is this a joke? What the fuck is this?

The man in the suit sitting across from me let out a sigh. “I’m very sorry-”

Fuck you,” I scoffed. “Shut the hell up. You obviously don’t give a shit about me or else I wouldn’t be here at all.”

“The program is completely random, I assure you. I’m sorry.” The way he spoke was concise and cold. Everything in the room was. The metal table, the concrete walls. My handcuffs.

“I’m not fucking signing this shit.” I pushed it away from me towards the man.

“That won’t be needed. You’ll notice there isn’t a place for you to sign. All of your information is already notarized.”

“Oh no- fuck that, I have a say in this!” I tried to stand but the handcuffs kept me to the chair.

“Afraid not,” the man said, retrieving the documents and sliding them into his briefcase. “Now please,” he said, motioning to the door. Both my cuffs and the door unbolted with a click. “Follow me.”

The man pushed the door open and stepped through. I followed behind and as soon as I was out, two large men, also in suits, began walking behind me. We entered a foyer where a secretary sat at her desk, typing on her computer. She glanced up quickly before catching my eye and returning to her work. Above her hung an American flag. Next to it stood the seal of the D.H.S.

Department of Homeland Security, my ass I thought to myself.

We entered a long corridor that was intercepted by 4 thick, metal doors that required three forms of identification. Each slid open at the man’s IDs.

When we reached the door at the end, the two giants drew their pistols and trained them on the small metal door. We all just stood there quietly, staring at the door.

“My condolences,” the man said from behind me.

“Do I get, like, some final words or anything?”

The man pursed his lips.

“Fuckin’ hell,” I whispered under my breath.

My heart raced and my breath came short and fast. This is it I thought.

The door opened after 5 different IDs and the inside was completely black. It was like a wall of darkness.

“Thank you for your service,” the man said, gesturing to the abyss.

I shook out my nerves and walked in about two feet.

In that moment, my situation struck me. “Wait. Wait, please!” I turned, but the door had silently shut.

The room was so silent, I could almost hear my heartbeat, and totally black. Suddenly, a light appeared in the middle of the room from the ceiling. “Fucking hell!” I screamed.

In the middle was a little girl with no eyes. No nose. Just one, huge mouth.

“Oh, good,” she said sweetly. “I thought they forgot about me.”

Credits to: BeezHuts

My thoughts on music

Last weekend I played with a high school honors symphony orchestra I auditioned for and one of the pieces we were doing was the finale from Shostakovich 5th symphony. Anyway, in one of the rehearsals we were working diligently on one of the more lyrical sections. Our conductor told us the whole story of Shostakovich and Stalin, and he said “thank god these composers had miserable lives, or else they wouldn’t have written the music we have today” he then told us about an orchestra he had worked with from another country on this piece. He said that they played it with an emotional level of a 9 whereas we were playing at a 2.7; those kids had such a severe level of poverty, and the only thing that brought them up was the love of music. He said that they played as if music had saved their lives, and that was how they emphasized with the composers so well. He then basically told us that we live such easy lives in America compared to them and even though music hasn’t LITERALLY saved our lives, we should try to emphasize with them. I thought then, how will I ever be able to play like them if I haven’t had such a terrible and traumatic life? How can I possibly pour my devastating and traumatized emotions into music that aren’t there?? My life is so easy…how will I ever have those emotions to pour into the music? I’ve been thinking about this for a few days and I now realize music HAS saved my life; perhaps not in the literal sense. But thinking about it, where would I be without music? Where would YOU be without music? I’ve been playing violin since i was 5 but only got really dedicated in the 6th grade. What would I be doing if I hadn’t continued with music? And honestly, I can’t come up with an answer. I would be a completely different person. Us musicians would ALL be different people than we are now if we didn’t have music in our lives. Who would we be if music had never touched our lives? Perhaps I’d be off parting every night getting drunk. Perhaps I’d want a career I’d never even consider now. So now, thinking over my conductor’s words, I know that music HAS saved my life. It has saved all of our lives. And we can play that way.