crash diets success stories

the following video is a collection of storiesfrom 3 videos on my personal channel, chills. the link is at the very top of the descriptionif you wanna check it out, as well as my twitter and instagram links. and last but not least, do you like thesescary story videos? let me know in the comments with a simple“yes” or “no”.

crash diets success stories, and if you’re feeling generous, please likea like because it helps the video do better. let’s get into the stories. chills1.so i still remember this happening so vividly. it was terrifying to the point that i hadto move rooms as i was too scared to sleep

in my original one. so here is the story. it's a long one. the houses in this suburb were back to backso basically there was a street a line if houses a fence sectioning them off anotherline of houses and then their street. the backyards were what touched each otherso you could basically climb your backyard fence and land in your neighbours backyard. this is important to understand the layoutso i apologise. my house towards the back of the house wasthe laundry and then my room with a large

glass door leading outside. it had windows on the side which sat on aconcreted side passage that connected the front if the house to the backyard. my bed was pushed against the wall with thewindow above and next to it. nine year old me was a night owl as a youngkid i used to pretend to go to sleep and wait for the all clear then turn on the lamp andread my books. this particular night it was windy so youcould hear the dry leaves being blown up and down the side passage. it was around midnight when i heard the leavesshifting and moving around outside a lot quicker

then before, assuming the wind had pickedup i kept reading. the noise was growing louder and louder andit seemed to stop right by my window. the house is an older house and is on stiltsso my window would have been 2-3 feet off the ground. i heard a bang against the wall then a scrapingnoise. i froze sitting in bed as that noise camefrom right behind me. i panicked as the scraping was more and morefrequent and i turned the lamp off and did what every child would do in that situationi retreated under the covers and hid while listening.

my heart was pounding i can still feel thefear till this day. the noise stopped and i heard the crunchingon the leaves as whatever it was, was walking away. i was trying to gather the courage to runto my parents room which was at the front of the house but that meant i had to walkpast the glass door. then i heard a thump thump up the stairs tothe back door then the clamouring of the wind chimes. they were metal and hung low who ever it wascould not see it in the dark and must if knocked them as they were peering in the door.

i heard them grab it and throw them to theground. this was followed by tapping and scratchingand they even tried the door handle. i screamed to high heaven hoping dad wouldwake up. i heard the person clamber away i got up andran to my parents room. woke up dad in a panic declaring someone isoutside. he took off with a baseball bat and no pantslike the knight in shining armour he was. i don't know how long it was but he came backand told me he could not find anybody and i should go back to bed. i refused and slept in the lounge room thatnight.

it got to a point where i was so unsettledmy parents had to shift all the rooms around to move me from that room. it was only years later when i was 20 andwe were at family dinner talking about things we did when we were young. i brought up that story. my dad turns to me and says since we don'tlive there any more i guess i can tell you that i did find someone that night. he found our neighbour bill whom was the fatherof one of my friends from school. he was trying to climb over the fence whendad caught him and the first thing he said

to my dad was - oh, did something make herscream? dad refused to tell me what happened afterthat. but that line chills me to this day. he found his ladder on its side near my windowin the morning which of course he did not tell me about either as the creep was tryingto climb into my room. 2. so, around 10 -12 years ago (in england) ilived in a little 2 bedroom house on a long road, it is a terraced house on a long stripof other terraced houses. back in the day all the attics where joinedand you could literally travel through them,

years later they realised it was a bad idea,fires spreading, burglars etc. and so all the attics where bricked up so each housewas secure. one night i was soaking in the bath when iheard a noise above me, thinking it may be an animal or something i just ignored it,this went on for a few weeks only it was getting to the point i would only hearthe noise when i was in the bath/shower or getting changed. i got a friend to check the attic and he toldme he didn't see anything (he just stuck his head inside) which just confirmed my animalstory. not much happened after that for about a monthor two when one night i was alone, i was getting

ready to take a shower as i was heading outwith friends, i heard the same noise above when all of a sudden the dog started goingcrazy, barking and looking directly above me. clearly i was freaked out and decided to getready at a friends house. the next day i was outside my house when theneighbour shouted me, now my neighbour is creepy as hell, small, stinky, strange lookingwith hint of crazy in his eyes. he asked if i was ok, being polite and tryingto show him he doesn't really bother me i said yes and went about my business. just as i got to my door he asked if i gotto my friends ok, at first, without thinking

i said yes thank you, smiled and waved goodbye. when i got inside my house i realised thathe would not know i was at a friends unless he heard me on the phone, and, as i was socreeped out the night previously i was practically whispering to my friend!! anyway, i rang family members. told my dad and they all came round, theyturned the lights on in the bathroom but kept all the other lights off, opened the atticdoor and you could see 2 lights shining right through to the top of the attic, 2 tiny littleholes, my bathroom ceiling was quite dark so i never noticed them.

my dad went in, he was gone a while but whenhe returned he was blazing angry. he ignored everyone and walked straight outsideto the neighbors house, we heard him shouting for the neighbour to open the door but hewas not home. i asked my cousin to go up to check it out,when he came back down he told me that the wall separating the attics had been knockedthrough, most of the brickwork was on my side so it was knocked through from the other side. we called the police but they told us thatthere was no proof he had done anything, the neighbour told the police he never used theattic and the previous tenants may be to blame. clearly he was to blame the old dirty pervert!!

i don't think i have ever been so disturbedknowing that the dirty pervert had been watching me for all that time. i never stayed in that house again. 3. okay, so a little bit of back story. i am a 19 year old male, was about 10 whenthis took place. i spent a large part of my childhood livingin a town called renfrew, ontario, canada, with my mom and her fiancee at the time. it was a pretty average sized town, calm,peaceful, and a relatively nice place.

we lived in a house on a street that i believewas called stewart street... life was pretty normal for the most part. our driveway and our neighbours driveway wereboth connected, so we had to park beside each other and both houses were pretty close toeach other. i never saw much of my neighbour, other thanthe occasional time that he was in his backyard, probably tending to his garden. he was a middle aged man, probably 40 or 50,and he never said hello or acknowledged me or my family when we looked at him or walkedpast him in the driveway. everything continued as normal as ever, untilone night when i headed into my room to go

to bed. my room had one window, and it faced out towardsthe driveway. i had blinds, but they were always slightlyopen so that i could see through the open gaps. on this night, as i lay in bed, i could hearcrunching in the gravel on the driveway. i never thought anything of it and assumedit was probably my mom's fiancee outside doing something, but no, i was very wrong. i turned over in bed to face my window, andas my eyes slowly adjusted in the dark, i could see through the gaps of the blinds thatthere was a pale face looking through my window,

staring directly at me. i made eye contact, and i couldn't look away. i was so horrified that i almost wet the bed. i tried to scream out for my mom, but i wastoo scared of him hearing me and breaking through the window. he continued to stare, but it was almost asthough he was looking off into the distance towards me, like someone who was zoned out. finally, he slowly raised his head up to theroof, and he started screaming at the top of his lungs.

"shut up you birds! shut up! shut up!" the second he started screaming i got chills. the creepiest part of it all was that therewere no birds... no birds chirping, no noise, nothing... other than him. his screaming was so serious and so full ofrage that it felt as though he was legitimately enraged by these imaginary birds.

somehow everyone in the house except me managedto sleep through this screaming, which went on for almost the entire night. i did not sleep a wink, and the man didn'tleave my window until about 4 am. when morning came, i was far too scared totell my mother about what had happened. i just went about as i usually did. the door we entered the house from was inthe backyard, which meant when we left we had to walk through the driveway. usually my neighbour was never outside, butone day while i was walking to school, he was standing in the driveway, about to getin his car.

i did my best to look down and avoid him,walking as close to the wall of my house as possible, when i noticed out of my peripheralsthat he was standing completely still, holding his car door open, watching me walk. my eyes naturally darted towards him, andi could see his eyes watching me, full of something i can only describe as intent. his night time screaming continued, alwaystelling the birds to shut up, occurring about every other night. on the nights that he didn't show up, i hadchronic nightmares about him opening my window, and my grades started to suffer.

i was in a constant state of terror. eventually i realized that i had no choicebut to tell my mom what was going on. i woke up after one of my nightmares and wentinto her room and told her about our neighbour. she attempted to assure me that i was imaginingit and i was only dreaming. the rest of the story is from what my momtold me years later when i was much older, because i was too young to hear about it. after i told my mother about what was happening,she and her fiancee decided they should closely pay attention to our neighbour. one night they were having a few drinks andplaying frisbee in the backyard.

my mom threw the frisbee and it landed onthe grass. in our neighbour's yard. mom walked right on over into the yard (therewas no fence separating us), and picked up the frisbee. it had landed quite close to the neighbour'swindow. she bent down to pick it up and as she stoodback up she caught a glimpse in the window, into the kitchen of the house. the entire kitchen counter was covered inporn magazines. sex toys were strewn about.

my mom and her fiancee started freaking out,assuming he was a paedophile or something, and they marched straight to his door andstarted banging on it. the door had a window, and they could seethe neighbour through it in the hallway. but he looked different somehow. he turned around, shocked by the loud banging,and revealed a face covered in makeup. bright red lipstick, mascara, womans clothes,etc. this man was a crossdresser. normally it wouldn't be such a big deal, butthere was clearly something wrong with this man.

every alarm was going off and my mom feltas though he may have someone in his basement or something. he ran away, and then came back and answeredthe door a few minutes later, face washed and regular clothes on. my mom and her fiancee flipped out on him,asking him why he was screaming at my window, what was with all the porn, etc. i was never told what he replied to all ofthis. my mom called the cops, and they ended upcoming and searching his house. inside they found tons of child porn.

i have an idea of what that man wanted withme, but i have no idea what he was on about with the birds. clearly he had some sort of mental condition. all i can really say is that i am so *ingglad i don't live there anymore. i have a few more stories of that town, becauseit was full of creeps for some reason, but those are for another day. 4. this actually happened to me when i was younger;i'm just typing this straight out so there'll be no fancy script or editing - here it goes:when i was ten years old, i was seriously

into spy stuff. anything to do with spies, i wanted it andthat was that. i had a little notebook beside my bed thati would write all of the car registration plates in my estate down in to 'keep track'of everyone and to identify potential intruders. i never did find anything interesting butin my young mind, i was the next 'harriet the spy' (love that movie). i used to share my spy activities with april,the girl next door, because she indulged them and seemed to enjoy snooping about with me. my mam had bought a set of binoculars duringthe celtic tiger because, well, she could.

once i discovered these, i used them constantlyto look at birds up close in the sky, at people far down the street and, of course, into myneighbours' houses. the neighbour directly across from my housewas a single man in his forties who very much kept to himself. i would sometimes watch him through my binocularsbut he was boring - would always just sit in his bedroom. april and i would make up stories about hishouse being haunted and we'd freak ourselves out so much that at least one of us wouldgo home, pretending to feel unwell. when april suggested that we ditch the babycrap and become real spies, i was intrigued.

the plan was to sneak into our creepy neighbour'shouse... that was it. we were only 10 - we had no agenda. creepy neighbour always left his kitchen windowopen, even when he was at work, so we climbed in. it was 4pm in the day in the middle of july. it was hot, sunny and we were very much alonein this man's house. i always get this feeling of pure terror wheneveri enter a premises i'm not supposed to be. it's the stress of being caught and has alwaysfreaked me out. anyway, i remember feeling that sort of fearbut april was giddy and jogged up the stairs.

i waited in the kitchen, eyes fixed on thefrosted front door and half-imagining creepy neighbour's shadow to suddenly appear... "uhm, m-michelle?" i could hear april's weak voice stammer myname from upstairs and i immediately didn't like it. i had to get out. i quickly climbed out of the kitchen windowand ran back across the road leaving april alone in creepy neighbour's house. i knocked at april's door and told her grandmother(who she lived with) where she was.

relief washed over me as i watched the small,fat old woman waddled across the road to get her grand daughter. before she reached the front door, april burstout wide-eyed and crying. my mam would not tell me why the police camebut i secretly watched with the binoculars from my bedroom window as they made creepyneighbour's dull, quiet house come to life with lights and loud talking. i looked into his bedroom where two policemenwere standing side by side staring at the wall. at pictures on the wall.

i will never forget that moment when i finallygot those binoculars into full focus and saw... myself... in a framed photo on creepy neighbour'swall. i was in my own front garden making a daisychain. i must have only been about two years old. that's when i noticed the others... therewere about 50 pictures of me at all different ages, on my neighbour's bedroom wall. he was arrested at work that day. caretaker in the local primary school. that's all that i can remember from that time.

april and i never spoke again after the incidentbut she still lives next door to me and has her own daughter called lilah. it still shakes me, 14 years later that whilei was out spying on all the neighbours, there was one spying on me. and i never knew. 5. i'm so scared right now. i don't know how many of these are true butif anybody has ever experienced anything like this please let me know because i'm shittingmyself.

here's some background. i'm 24, i live in london in the flat i grewup in. it's a house spilt into two flats, one iscouncil and one is owned. the flat upstairs is a sort of rehabilitationhouse so my neighbours are always changing. usually if someone doesn't react well to 'livingin the real world' they're taken back to hospital and i get a new neighbour. i've actually been pretty lucky in this senseand haven't had any problems with anyone. so about four months ago daniel moved in. now occasionally, mostly if a new neighbourhas been involved in a crime, i'll get a visit

from a social worker of some sort explainingthat if any previous problems arise again, to call said number blah blah. this tends to happen if they've had a violentpast, although they never divulge any real personal information about the crime or theneighbour. anyway, so he moves in and for about the firstweek, i don't hear anything from him. i usually make a point of being friendly withmy neighbours (considering we share the same building and they usually have some mentalissues) however, every time i knocked for him, there was no answer. eventually, i gave up and slipped a note underthe door explaining who i was and telling

him to let me know if he needed anything. two days later i was coming home from golfingwith some friends when we met in the hall. he seemed nice enough, obviously this helpedme to feel better about the situation and after our chat, i felt more at ease. we had a lot in common. we shared a lot of the same interests. we were both huge arsenal fans, i explainedthat i'd just been golfing and he told me how he considered himself a golfer too. i reiterated the note telling him to let meknow if he needed anything.

i felt so much more at ease as i went to bedthat night. * writing this all now seems so *ed up buti guess i have to explain the story. so anyway, long story short, we got closerduring the next 2 weeks or so. he'd come round to watch the footie at minea few nights after work and shared conversation over some beers. he told me about rehab. he explained that he'd previously been ina toxic relationship that had driven him close to insanity. it was strange because i'd never been so openwith a neighbour. as accepting as i was of the upstairs residents, i usually kept mydistance.

but although i could never personally seemyself getting into a situation like daniel did, i felt like i understood his point ofview and feelings. he seemed like a nice guy, who'd had a badthing happen to him and became emotionally unsteady for a while. we ended spending a lot of time together,when live in the same building, it's so easy to end up doing so. but it's not something i dwelled on, we goton really well, liked the same music, football team, sports, it was good. so anyway, one day i came home after a longday at work.

my boss had been a dick all day, i was tiredand wanted to sleep. daniel must of heard me come in because hecame to his door and asked if he could come i told him i wasn't really up for it, he lookeda bit disappointed but i'd had a shitty day and just wanted to go to sleep. when going to bed, i noticed something reallyweird, this literally gives me shivers thinking about it now, there was an imprint of a bodyon my sheet. like someone had been just been lying here. i just kind of stared at it. i racked my brains, but i knew i hadn't laidon it since i made it this morning.

infact, i hadn't even remembered making it. regardless, i was too tired to really care,i just pulled back the sheets and went to sleep. over the next few weeks i saw less of danieldue to a number of reasons, work, other commitments and generally, i felt like i needed space. we'd gotten very close and that was cool butespecially being in such a close capacity the friendship seemed a bit too intense. i did feel bad for daniel, he hadn't doneanything and i'd blown him off quite a bit, but i needed my own space.

one night i brought a female friend home froma night out as she lived far away and buses had stopped running. it was around 4 in the morning so i triedto be quiet as i walked in the communal hallway. as i was unlocking the door i heard footstepsin my flat. i was high at time and freaking the * outbut didn't want to freak out my friend. i grabbed a golf club from my hallway andcrept into the kitchen where the noise was coming from. i turned on the light and ran in and danielwas there. he was just sitting on my *ing counter smiling.

i swear to god i've never been so *ing freakedout in my entire life. obviously i asked him what the * he was doingin my kitchen at 4 in the morning and he said something about borrowing some milk. i asked him how the * he got in and he wentsilent. he asked who my friend was and the tone, it'sso hard to describe, but it was like he was my wife or something. it had a kind of jealous pang to it. he left and me and my friend made our wayto bed. but this is the weirder part, my bed had beenlain in, but fully lain in, my tv was on and

my wardrobe was open. he'd been in my room. how long had he been in here?? the next morning i couldn't shake it frommy head. it was so weird, that was too weird. i wasn't sure whether or not to call the socialworker. in hindsight, i *ing should of then and therebut i didn't. but i completely avoided him. i think he knew he'd overstepped the markbecause he didn't try to talk to me either.

so that brings us here. the other day my mum called, she was askingabout work etc and i told her i was thinking of quitting. not to go too off track, but my boss is aprick. he was keeping me on late, underpaying me and just generally taking the piss. weended the conversation and i went to bed. fastforward to two mornings later (today). i go to work, my boss isn't there. i'm happy, go about my day until a close colleagueapproaches me. he tells me the boss was hit with a golfingclub last night and is in hospital.

now i feel bad for feeling happy that he wasn'tin. he's going to be fine and they've got twosuspects but they haven't revealed who they are. as i said, by boss is a dick, so as bad asit sounds, i'm hardly surprised he has a lot of enemies. so i came home tonight, feeling a bit chirpieras i've had an easy day at work. there's a letter through my door from thesocial worker telling me to call her. i do it and she tells me daniel's been arrested. writing this it seems as if it was obviousthe whole time, but you've got to understand

that life isn't like a film, you don't expectthis *ed up shit to happen to you. yeah maybe someone on the news in some faraway, american town, but not in my flat in london.she tells me she can't tell me any else but i just knew. by this point, i'm freaking the * out evenmore. i went upstairs and just kicked the *ing doordown. i've never done anything like that it waslike something out of a film but my body was pumping with adrenaline and i just neededto know what the *. oh god, it makes me sick to write this.

i'm alone in my flat and i'm scared. i'm 24 and i'm scared to be in my house. i went into his room, directly above mine,there's nothing that out of the ordinary, it's a lot like my room actually, wardrobe,arsenal posters, but there's one weird thing. there's a camera pointing down at the floorboardsbut it looked like he'd just put it down there so i didn't think anything of it, but aboveit were tapes, i had no idea he made films but looking closer all the boxes had my nameon it and things i did aka x talking to mum x watching tv x with girl. my stomach is twisting at this point i'm justthinking please no please no.

i switched on the video tape and there itis. a clear gap between the floorboards that focus'on my bed. it's just above my wardrobe so i'd never spotit. obviously i called the police. they came straight away and i finally foundout the truth about his past and his 'toxic relationship'. he had stalked this girl thathe went to school with and she had to move before he was finally admitted. the police have just left and i'm alone, inmy flat. my neighbour has been watching me for fourmonths from a hole in my roof and i just found

out. i'm terrified. chillsnumber 1. so, at this point i'm just looking for help...or someone to tell me i'm not losing my mind...my wife went to atlanta to visit her folks andbrought the baby with her. grandma and grandpa are stoked to have timewith the grandson, i get to play diablo iii all week, and everybody wins. the wife only asked that i take care of afew things around the house. namely, she wanted the bedroom painted.

so, last night around 1:00 after several hoursof fighting off demons and zombies and other various other minions of hell, i decide toprep for painting before i go to bed. i move the dresser drawers, night stand, andlamp out of the bedroom and head out to the garage.the garage, by the way, is still acomplete mess. i’ve had the house for four months now andi just never got around to fixing up what the foreclosure process did to that sectionof the house. i dig through some stuff to get the brushes,paint cans, and trays out. then i hear it. it was faint at first, but it was definitelycoming from the attic.

it sounded like crying. i look up and the door to the attic is hangingdown ever so slightly. i had been worried about squirrels gettingin there since we moved in, so i decide to investigate. the door drops down with a sudden and ratherloud slam.my dog gets pissed off / scared by this and decides to charge into the garagebarking. only he doesn’t make it the whole way. i hear him scamper and howl the whole wayfrom the living room into the laundry room, but when he gets to the doorway between thelaundry room and the garage, he slams on the

breaks.now, this little guy is a boston terrier/ pug mutt that i rescued, so he is by no means a ferocious beast. but i have never seen him scared. he proceeds to piss the floor and shake violently.“benny! what are you doing??”i’m not really madat him, but i probably yelled louder than i should have. he looks up at me with fear in his eyes andkeeps messing the floor. i pick him up and take him into the livingroom. grab a towel and start to wipe up the mess.

he slowly and apprehensively follows me backinto the laundry room. i walk back into the garage with a hurley(irish field hockey stick) and flashlight. he stayed in the doorway again and whinedat me, imploring me not to go up.i don’t know what i expected to see… a raccoon? but what i saw froze me in my tracks. i had only made it two steps up the ladder,barely sticking my head into the attic, when i saw her. clear as day, there was a girl in my attic. no older than six years of age, she sat inthe fetal position in the corner of my attic.

her head was buried into her knees, and sherocked herself slowly back and forth. she wore a long t-shirt that i assumed washer pajamas. it looked tattered with age. she was whimpering quietly to herself. i probably wouldn’t be able to even discernthe sound if not for the fact that i had been stopped dead in my tracks, holding my breath,my heartbeat echoing in my skull.after what seemed like forever, she looked up at me andour eyes met. her eyes had deep bags as if she had beencrying for years without sleep.“i’m so hungry.”and with that, she was gone.

she didn’t disappear in a puff of smokeor anything… just one second there she was, and the next, she wasn’t. it was if i was watching a movie and it simplyjumped from one frame to the next. i’m not really sure what i saw, but i canonly assume it was a ghost.my senses slowly came back to me, and i proceeded to tear thehell out of there. benny and i ran into the bedroom, slammed,and locked the door. i sat in my room with all the lights on forabout an hour. i was almost ready to scope out the situation,when i heard her start crying again.it was very soft, and i don’t know how, but i couldsense that she was actively trying to cry

quietly. it was almost as if she was embarrassed anddidn’t want to be heard. “i’m so hungry” reverberated in my head. i could almost hear her say it. it was as if she was talking to me in my head.ididn’t feel scared. i got out of bed (benny decided to continueto hide under the covers) and went into the kitchen. i made a small bowl of easy mac. i poured a glass of milk.

i walked into the garage.i flicked on thegarage light and was greeted by silenced. i already felt foolish, but it seemed evenmore foolish to leave the food on the floor. so i flipped a hamper upside down and madea makeshift table. i left the food on the hamper in the middleof the garage like some sort of preschool offering. i left the garage light on and slowly backedout to the laundry room doorway. i honestly expected to see her tiny, malnourishedframe climb down the ladder that i had left open. but after a few minutes, i started to thinkhow ridiculous i was being.

i was sleep deprived and overstressed fromtoo much diablo and work.i could hear benny crying and immediately felt bad for scaringhim so badly. i went back to the bed room and tried to soothehim. but, it turns out i didn’t have to. when i got there, he was wagging and seemedlike his old self. i can’t explain it, but the house felt…warmer. less burdened? i don’t know.i was gone maybe two minutes,but when i got back to the garage, the food was gone.

i mean gone. the bowl was licked clean. i stared at it, dumfounded, and took the dishesback to the kitchen and put them into the sink.i didn’t get much sleep that night. in my dreams, i could see her. she thanked me for the food and asked forcookies, dolls, and chocolate milk instead of regular milk. on the way home from work today, i pickedup some chips ahoy, more easy mac, chocolate syrup, and some cheap barbie knock up.

i put them in the garage, and when i got backfrom walking benny, i returned to a similar scene. cookies decimated (no crumbs), easy mac gone(bowl licked clean), but the doll was missing.i know a lot of these stories end with a dramatictwist or shocking revelation, but i don’t have one for you guys. i don’t hear her crying – i don’t hearanything from the attic. but i know she’s happy. i can’t explain how, but i know it downto my bones. i’m equally as sure that she’ll talk tome in my dreams again tonight.

my concern right now is how i explain to mywife that our family just got a little bigger. number 2. my wife and i decided to do some spring cleaningthis weekend as we do every year around this time. we moved into this home in the late 80s andhave engaged in our spring cleaning ritual for the past decade. the house is too small for us now, but mywife wanted to wait until our youngest was off to college before moving. i’ve learned over the years that arguingwith her is pointless when it comes to matters

like these, so i have kept quiet and patientlywaited for that day to arrive. paul starts college this fall, so i’m hopingthat this will be our last spring cleaning at this house.i have become efficient in thisritual over the years to the point where i have become less of a pack-rat during thecalendar year. the basement—which used to be the biggesthassle—had little to no clutter this year and was cleared out in only a few hours. the garage was the next area of interest andtook the remainder of the evening. my wife’s job every year was to clean theattic. she would spend the day locked away in thatroom and would return around dinner time with

a few large bags full of things. i was always curious to where the things camefrom because i could never recall a time where either of us had ever gone into the attic. i personally hadn’t stepped foot in theroom upstairs in over a decade.“more than usual this year,” i said to my wife as shecarried the last two bags from the attic.“it’s been a busy year,” she smiled, tossing thebags into the last empty bin outside.“all done?”“almost, just a bit more, but ican get it tomorrow.”“i can—““—that’s ok,” she said, kissing my cheek. “i can get it.”i stared at her with acuriosity that was new to me.

this was always such a strange time each year. i remember how frantic she had been when shefirst brought up spring cleaning. it was strange because if i recall correctlythe house wasn’t even that cluttered the first year. she always wanted the attic which is probablywhy i’ve never gone up there. i don’t even know what’s in the attic. i decided i was going to go look, but i couldn’tdo it while my wife was home. she was always so protective over the attic.thenext morning she said she needed to run to the store.

i kissed her goodbye and read my newspaperat the breakfast table. i watched her walk out to the car and pullaway. once i was sure she was out of sight i putdown my paper and rushed to the attic entrance. my heart pounded as i pulled the attic stairsdown to me. i felt dirty spying on my wife’s attic,but a part of me felt scared. we were so honest with each other in our relationship. this attic seemed to be the only secret. i have no idea why i never checked beforetoday.i stepped up onto the first stair of the ladder and the cold air from the atticrushed over my face.cold air?

from the attic?my pulse quickened as i climbedthe ladder. a low rumbling sound filled my ears as i nearedthe opening to the attic. my eyes peeked into the room and opened inconfusion. the floor was a bright white laminate, andthe room was surrounded with fans. the fans were attached to large coolers whichseemed to be connected by piping. i walked over to one of the coolers and openedit with a reluctant pull. the container was full of ice water. that explains the cold air. i assumed that each of the coolers was filledwith the same and the pipes ran the water

to each from the main line. a metal table sat in the center of the roomnear a boarded up window. my chest felt like it would cave in on itself. my breath circled my face in pillows of vapor.whatis going on up here?a small metal case sat in the corner on top of a metal stand withwheels. to the right of the case sat a box of latexgloves. i opened the case and swallowed the lump thatformed in my throat. sharp objects lined the inside of the case. it reminded me of a surgery kit.

every instrument was spotless and shining. i looked around the room and noticed thateverything was polished. my mind ran wild with images of what thisroom could be used for and they all starred my wife and a dead body. i pictured her with a mask over her face cuttingin to a young girl as she cried for her mother. my wife, carrying bags of severed limbs tothe garbage after storing them up in our attic for months at a time. there must be a better explanation for this. my eyes searched the floor and noticed drainsunder each cooler for the first time.

i crawled on the ground and peered insidethe drain unsure of what i would find. i used the light from my phone to light upthe inside of the dark drain and gasped at the sight.blood.i heard a car door slam andleapt to my feet. i rushed to the attic entrance and almostfell through the opening. keys rattled against the door as i securedthe attic door above me and ran to the kitchen. i was putting my plate in the sink as my wifeentered the room.“you all right?” she asked.“yeah,” i said, breathing heavily. “why?”“looks like you’ve been running,”she laughed. she walked over to me and gave me a hug.

her eyes narrowed as she pulled away. “you’re freezing.”she knows. i had to think fast. “i must be getting sick.” i said, attempting to give her my best sickface.“you do look a bit pale,” she frowned.yeah, i just found out that my wife is a serialkiller. “i’m just going to go lay down.”“youdo that,” she said. “i’ll finish cleaning the attic.”thewords made me shiver. what did she need to finish exactly?

the room was spotless. “ok.”i lay on the bed and closed my eyes. visions of victims screaming while my wifecut into them like lab specimen filled my dreams. blood poured from the wounds she inflictedas the screams deafened me. i watched as my children took the place ofthe victims. one by one my wife murdered our children untilit was finally my turn on the table. i woke in a cold sweat with my wife staringat me from our bedroom doorway. her eyes were cold and menacing.“honey?”

i asked nervously.“you went to the attic.”“no,i—““—i thought i told you to stay out of the attic,” she cried.her reactionwasn’t what i expected. she seemed sad, but i expected anger. “what is going on?”“i can’t let youleave,” she sobbed as she pulled a syringe from behind her back. “i’m sorry.”she lunged at me on to thebed. the needle pierced my thigh, but i was ableto use her momentum to toss her off the other side. blood trickled down my leg as i ran to thefront door.

i heard a gunshot ring out as i turned thecorner to the living room. tears rolled from my cheeks as i sped outthe front door as a second shot nicked the frame. i ran across the yard, waiting for the nextshot to take me out, but it never came. i disappeared in the trees behind our neighbor’shouse and only when i was out of sight did i look back. my wife sat crouched down on our front doorstep with my gun in her hand crying.the police arrested my wife, and i watched them carrythe coolers out of the attic for evidence. they found pieces of a young boy who was reportedmissing a few weeks prior.

i looked into my wife’s eyes and i couldn’trecognize her. she looked at me with regret. a fear in her eyes swelled into tears as thecar pulled away.i woke up the next morning and turned on the television. every news station was playing the same story. my wife, the serial killer. i felt dirty in my own home. how many people met their end in my attic? the police were already estimating that itcould be in the dozens.

the thought made me nauseous. i grabbed the box of cereal from the cupboardand poured myself a bowl as i watched the footage. the pundits were discussing how i could havepossibly not known about these things occurring in my own house.i thought the same thing.igrabbed the milk from the fridge and opened it. i glanced down to the bowl and stopped asthe first drop hit the paper that sat in my cereal. i grabbed the note and unfolded the paper.

my heart pounding in my neck as i read thewords:“it’s paul you should be afraid of”number 3. when we first moved into our new home, about14 years ago, we all felt really comfortable. it was a nice house, with a basement and attic,3 bedrooms, 3 bath, and plenty of room for offices, entertainment centers, etc. perfect, because we had just had an additionto our family 3 years prior; my baby sister, abigail. and for you readers with multiple children,you know just as well as i do that a family with kids needs a lot of room.

we made use of every room in the house, exceptfor the attic.the attic was just a simple attic. we never went up there. i remember the only time i ever really sawup there was just a few feet surrounding the open hatch, while dad was on the ladder witha flashlight. the only thing out of the ordinary was thatthe rest of it was shrouded in...an almost unnatural darkness. i didn't pay attention to it. i was seven years old, i didn't understandthe significance of the darkness, nor associate

anything with it except a passing thoughtof "man, it sure does look scary up there." anyway, the house was beautiful but unusuallynoisy. you know, those cliche "bump in the night"noises the house makes, and you get scared and your parents tell you that it's just thehouse settling. those kind of noises, except...a lot of them. we payed it no attention and for years, wedealt with it and eventually grew used to just your normal, happy family living in asomewhat creepy home.14 years passed and now were at present day, as of last week. i moved out about a year ago, and i'm nowin a relatively decent apartment and attending

college. my parents just recently told me that theyplan on selling the house. they asked me to write up a summary aboutthe house's details, history, accompanying property, etc. of all those years i lived in that house,none of us really cared for the history, and the agent who sold us the house never reallymentioned it. we were too awe struck by the great deal. so, out of a new found curiosity, i startedresearching the property. it seemed relatively normal.

one odd thing is, however, the previous owner'shusband had disappeared, and after authorities searched for him for months, he was presumeddead. the wife and her teenage daughter were distraught,and could no longer stay in the house where they once lived together as a family. that's when they moved out and we moved in. i decided that, after i finished the writeup, i would research the previous owners just a little bit more.after about 3 hours i finishedup what i thought was a quality summary and e-mailed it to mom and dad. then, i decided to do a little research onmy own.

you heard the previous owner's story, butthe previous-previous owner's story and the previous-previous-previous owner's story ifound to be a little more fruitful...and frightening.the property was originally a farm. settled on around 1895, the farm was expansiveand successful. the family owned the farm for many years,until around 1934, during the great depression. in order to keep a steady stream of income,the farmer who owned the land leased and sold most of his property. funny thing is, the people who would buy theproperty or use it always either ended up dead or missing; under mysterious circumstancesevery time.

no witnesses would be present, as everyoneon sight would be either dead, or as previously stated, missing. eyes started turning to the farmer's daughter,maggie. maggie had grown up on the property, and thethought of selling the property was the most awful thing she could think of. unable to face the harsh reality of the severedepression, she was the only one of the family that protested selling or leasing any of theland, and that was made very clear to buyers. police interviewed her parents, all of whomhad said she had been acting very strange. isolating herself to her room for long hours,skipping out on meals, you know, typical teenage

rebellion thing. turns out, upon reviewing the evidence andsearching maggie's room, they found several items associated with old timey black magic. unable to make an arrest for witchcraft, thepolice had no further evidence that she was guilty of or associated with the murders ofthe property buyers and lease holders.the family sold the farm in 1950. maggie had long since passed away. the house came under new ownership, and thehouse was completely remodeled. by this time, only 5 of the original 300 acresremained with the main house.

the main house is the house that my familyended up in. in 1951, the owners of the house, includingtheir 7 and 10 year old children, were reported missing. police documents stated that, upon entry,the house smelled of "rotten eggs, blood, and smoke," the sources of which could notbe found in the lower levels of the house, or the basement. upon performing a thorough search of the house,the last place left was the attic. here the bodies of the entire family werefound, including the children. they had been mutilated beyond recognition,so badly that the images were not released

for public viewing. no suspect was found, and no witnesses werepresent. the murder remains unsolved till this day. needless to say, the house was put on themarket and resold multiple times. the owners up until our family had all experiencedstrange noises, and moved out fairly quickly. 1 year, 2 or 3 years, the longest, besidesour family, having stayed for 5 years. all of these residents had no odd experiencesother than the strange noises or the sense of being watched. then, the previous owner's husband went missing.igot curious as to what the attic looked like

today. i returned home to visit for a weekend, andwhile my parents were out grocery shopping, i told my sister, now 17, about the historyi had found. "you know i'm all about this creepy shit,"she said, "and we have to go to the attic." although i was tempted to convince her otherwise,i was too curious to deny her request. we went upstairs in the attic. what we found is why there was next a romancohort's worth of authorities parked in my yard.all these years we never looked in thatattic, and apparently, neither had police when they were in search of the previous owner'shusband.

that's where we found him. there was the body. it was just bones by this time, and the forensicsteam told us that they were surprised we didn't notice the smell during the initial stagesof decay when we first moved in. i was surprised too, because upon enteringthe attic, we were greeted with a rather awful stench. as the two who originally discovered the bodies,and with me being a criminal justice major with heavy ties to our local pd, they allowedmy sister and i to see the official report and evidence gathered.

according to official reports, the victimhad suffered blunt trauma prior to the murder. she had knocked him out. there were, upon closer examination, bloodstains leading up the ladder to the attic. she had drug him up to the attic...all byherself. near the body, were candles, bowls filledwith strange ingredients, and other strange books and artifacts. autopsy revealed that the victim had sufferedsevere lacerations to all of his limbs, as well as his face and genitalia. the bowls were printed, and no prints wereable to be lifted.

the victim was tested and he was confirmedto be the previous owner's husband, as everyone very well knew already. the previous owner was now a prime suspect,but no one could contact her. the murder had taken place close to 15 yearsago. her whereabouts, her condition, and her intentionswere and are still unknown.i was dumbfounded that we had been living in a house with adead guy just upstairs. and we never even knew. i got curious yesterday, and researched theprevious owner. eventually, i found her in images, a newspaperfrom when the case was still hot.

when i saw her face, my jaw dropped. remember all of the research i did on thehouse's history? well, images of all of the owners were includedin that search, including one picture of maggie, when she was about 20 years old. the picture was dated 1941. maggie...who was supposed to have passed awayin an automobile accident in 1947. maggie...who's face i was now staring at onmy computer screen.why did she do it? was she making a sacrifice or something? i know it was her, there was no denying it.

i know she killed the other owners as well,or used her dark magic or something to harass them out of the house. she was a witch...how could she live to bethat old but look so young? was she still killing owners of her old property? what kind of supernatural help had she enlistedto aid her in her killing spree? and most importantly...where is she now? number 4. first things first. this is my first time ever visiting this website.

i never even knew it existed before this morning. i was directed to this forum by a friend ofmine, who said this would be the perfect place to share my story. it is a story about a box that i found inmy attic.a little back story about my home. built in 1954, having one previous owner,it sits basically in the middle of no where, in a quiet town of about 100 people. the closest property to me is approximately1 mile away. i bought this house because i wanted to getaway from all the big city madness that i have been living in for the past 35 years.ivelived in the house for roughly 3 years now.

just me and my dog. i live quite the lonely life. but i amu fine this way. i wouldnt have it any other.so the other day,i was up in my attic fetching some summer patio furniture that i had up there. its a pretty creepy space. no lights, very tight and narrow, and basicallya hot box. i do not like being up there one bit. just gives me the heebie jeebies.

i got my furniture out of there as quick aspossible, and scurried on out of there. but not before i tripped over something onmy way out. it was a box.i have never seen this box before. it was this rusty old metal box that was lockedshut with a pad lock. it was not anything of mine that i owned orput up there. kinda baffled me, but i figure maybe it wassomething left behind by the previous owner, that i have never seen before.i take the boxoutside, and decide to attempt to pry it open. it was pretty heavy. i shook it a couple times, and it just feltlike a brick in there.

i took a saw to lock, and finally got it openafter about ten minutes. inside the box, it was literally just a brick!! but attached to the brick was a letter, whichread the following: "hello there friend. you found my brick. it doesn't belong to you though, so put itback where you found it"i just kind of laughed for a minute and thought ha thats kinda weird. i didnt put it back though, i actually threwit outside behind my garage and scrapped the box.fast forward to later that evening. i was sitting in my living room when all ofthe sudden i hear a loud crash in the kitchen.

i go over to check it out, frightened as hell,and see that my kitchen window had been smashed. shards of glass all over the floor... and,a brick laying there!! it had a note attached to it, and it said"this is what happens when you don't put things back where they belong. get the f--- out!"i am totally freaking outat this point. i never even told a single person about thisbrick i found in my attic. what the... how the.... i had no explanation. mind boggling.i went outside to see if therewas anyone around, but it was literally dead silence, as i live in the middle of no where.

no footsteps, car engines, anything.meanwhile,my dog is back in the house, barking at the stairs that go up to the attic. wtf ... im really bugging. do i dare go up there. its creepy enough as it is. dont know what to do, so i call a buddy ofmine over.waited outside til he got there, and we both go up there together. we both have our flashlights and are peekingaround to see if we can see anything, when all of the sudden i see a note tacked to thewall that said "put my brick back"...so freakin

paranoid. i stayed at my buddys house for the weekendand plan to go back in the morning. number 5. when i was younger, just on the cusp of beinga teenager, my sister and i were in the attic. we were hunting for some old toys we had storedup there that we wanted to pull out and give a run for their money. it was a simply designed attic; old floorboards, steepled roof, everything bare to the eye. that's why it was so bizarre when we noticedthe small cubby door on one of the walls,

logically leading to what would have beenthe outside of the building.being the curious creatures we were, we just had to open it. the long and narrow crawlspace we discovereddefied imagination; how was it possible for it to be there? it violated everything our young minds knewabout space and architecture, and so i ran off to get my dad while my sister stayed andwatched it just to make sure it did not disappear while i was away.when i came back with him,he was just as stunned as we were with the discovery. after pondering it for a short while, we allknew there really was not any choice; we had

to know what was in there. getting down on our hands and knees, we wentinside to investigate the seeming impossibility. we found more attic. the same dã©cor, just more walls, and a much,much larger space, filled with shelves and storage containers. it was utterly fascinating that it was filledwith all manner of things; art, tools, appliances. we wondered how it had all gotten there. some of it could not have even physicallybeen brought in unless it had been built from scratch in that space, or the building waserected around it, such as a matching washer

and dryer.but even stranger yet was that myfather began to recognize the things stored there. things he had lost. things he had thrown away over the years,renewed and in prime condition. these were his things, from the years of hislife. it was amazing. we vowed to come back in the morning and removeeverything we could, because there was so much history, nostalgia, and genuinely usefulobjects held there.the next day came, and for some reason, we all seemed just far tobusy to go back; 'it will be there tomorrow',

we all said. and the next day. and the day after that, we barely even thoughtabout it, as it slipped away from our minds like fog. before too long, only a few weeks out, i wasconvinced i had dreamed the entire thing, and no one spoke on it anymore. i did not even bother looking in the attic,that was how far removed from reality the idea was.time passed, and my sister and igrew into our twenties. we both moved away, and she had kids of herown, both of us married.

unfortunately, tragedy struck, and my fatherfell ill. we both had to return to care for him, andprepare his estate for the inevitable conclusion of his terminal disease.it probably comesas no surprise that this put us both in the attic again; many things needed to be organizedand removed. and it probably comes as no surprise thatwhen we were there, we stumbled across that same cubby door we had seen more than a decadeprior, and in that instant, we looked at each other and remembered. we could see it in each others' eyes; we hadboth forgotten for no reason. we were determined to not let it go to wasteagain.

i told my sister i was going to go get someboxes so we could start moving things out, and she agreed to go inside and start gatheringwhat she could to bring out.i had just left the attic when my phone rang. answering it, my mother came on from the otherend in hysterics. my father had just passed away. i went back up to get my sister after hangingup, no longer concerned with pilfering the strange room, numb from shock. except, the door was gone. i stared at the wall where it had been, feelingthe terror of betrayal.

i began to scream and yell hysterically formy sister, but there was no answer. i clawed at the wall, and took a hammer toit, only to eventually break through to the aluminum siding of the house, creating a holei would later have to patch to sell the building.i had no idea what to do. i did not even think i could realisticallycall the police; i had no idea what to tell them. eventually i gathered myself up and went tothe hospital to be with the rest of my family, expecting them to ask where my sister was.theynever did.not even her husband.ever.a few years have passed since then.

every once in a while, i see pictures of mysister around my house, and i remember that once upon a time, she existed. sometimes i think i made her up, or that i'mmisremembering a stranger's face in those old photos. no one ever came looking for her, no police,not her job. no one acknowledged she was missing. when i would ask my mother, she would stareblankly at me, and after some prodding, slowly nod. she remembered, yes, i had a sister.

and that was as interested as she got. my sister's husband gave me much the samereaction; he would ask me who i was talking about when i mentioned her name. eventually he would concede that he seemedto recall being married at some point, and his lack of conviction would make me thinki made it all up. i probably did. either way, he has a new girlfriend, and hischildren are calling her mom. they never missed a beat.but sometimes, iwake up in the middle of the night because i hear someone walking in my attic.

i hear a voice i think i recognize, but ican't place who it belongs to anymore. she asks for me to help her, but i don't evenknow why i would be helping her, or what i'm helping her do. either way, she's in the attic, and thereis nothing in my attic, so it must be my imagination.i just wish i would stop hearing her voice afteri wake up. chills#1. this weekend i got a chance to stay with myuncle for a bit. we never really talked much before then butthis weekend i learned so much. it started over dinner, we made small talk,i complimented him on the food and my aunt

said he learned all he knew from the asylum. my ears perked up a bit,"where you like... in an insane asylum?" i laughed. "no!" he laughed, "i worked with the people in thekitchen, cooking helped calm the people, but i also sometimes had to deal with all handson deck situations." this really perked my interest. i've always been interested in insane peoplei'm not sure why my mom never mentioned her

uncle--he's our great uncle--worked at theasylum. maybe she didn't know either! i immediately asked for a story, i told himi could handle the worst of the worst, but he didn't want to go to that, he told me thisstory and a few others, but i want to just tell you all one for now! story 1: it was october 23rd 1967. i remember the date because it was a weekafter your aunt gave birth to your cousin leroy. i was working in the kitchen with some ofthe easier guys, the ones whose "treatment"

was working. we lock up all of the knives and everythingobviously. i would get up each morning and precut everythingso we didn't have to get the knives out at all for anything. it took away a lot of flavor, but it was thesafest thing to do for obvious reasons. that morning i got in and grabbed the knivesout and began to do the prep work for the day. i was always alone in the kitchen, nothingseemed out of place at all. i went along whistling and talking to myself,then i went to pick up one of the paring knives

and... i couldn't find it. it was in the set a minute ago, but now itwasn't. i figured i had dropped it and began lookingaround for it. i could not find it. see when things go missing your mind instantlythinks of how you must have lost it you forget what your doing or where you are and get annoyedwith finding it. i did this, but then something said in myhead, "go tell someone." that's when it hit me it may have been stolen.

i had learned my first year that insane peoplehave a way with going places they shouldn't be and magically disappearing. it's our job to make sure they don't disappearout of the asylum into public. but this? a knife? it could be deadly. i ran outside locking the door behind me incase whoever it was was still in there and ran out to tell someone. the whole place went on lock down, everyoneand everything searched, but we couldn't find

the paring knife. at this point everyone and i mean everyonewas accounted for. we all went into the kitchen and searched,no knife. they asked me if i knew for a fact it hadgone missing. to prove it i showed them a potato i had pealedthat morning with it. we all agreed that was weird, but i'm sureyou know that sometimes things can literally disappear into a void. i blamed myself and offered to pay for a newknife and apologized for the inconvenience but we all agreed that safety of the staffwas the most important.

still nervous i asked for someone to helpme in the kitchen, just in case there was an unaccounted for crazy lurking, i don'tknow, on the ceiling or something? i actually looked up to see if there was somethingor someone up there. one of the guys felt bad and hung out withme. probably an hour into it, we were joking iwas feeling much better when we went into another lock down. over the intercom we heard for everyone tostay where they were and keep the doors locked. that was different. lock downs usually meant you do that untilthe place is cleared, why the clarification?

me and the guy i was with kept working awaywhen we were done, we were still in a lock down. i phoned the front desk and a weird voiceanswered. "insane asylum full of creeps and geeks, howcan we * you over today!" i looked at the phone. and hung it up. i basically thought at this point we wereall in trouble. in 1967 we didn't have 911, so i phoned thelocal police and let them know that i thought the asylum was in a great deal of trouble.

we waited in that kitchen for about 4 hoursbefore a police officer showed up. he asked us to open the door, me and my friendlooked at him strange as if wondering if it was real. we both held knives behind our backs lookinga bit crazy. then we saw the head doctor blood all overhis coat and he said, "let them in boys!" we opened the door. so naturally we begged to know what the hellhappened. one of the employees had stolen the knifewhen i was washing some lettuce in the sink,

he waited for the "all clear" then began openingthe cells of the crazy people and trapped all the workers in the closet. one of the insane people stole the paringknife and killed him then went around attacking other insane people, my call saved a lot oflives. with out it and being in that room lockedi'm not sure how long those men would have been trapped, and how many of the insane wouldhave died by one stupid paring knife. it was a truly terrifying day. #2. first of all i want to thank you all for yourkind words and response to the last post i

gave. i’m excited that all of you are excitedabout this series and my uncle is impressed by the response and has said he will tellme more stories as he remembers them. he did mention that some of them were verytraumatic and he would rather not talk about them, but he knows some old co-workers thatmight also be willing to share some. we’ve got lots of content for this series. i’ll try to post once a day if i can, butif i don’t have any stories from him, i won’t be able to patients is key! lets get to it!

story 2: the mumbler. back in 1973 political correctness was nonexistent,so we had names for all of our patients. there was one we called the mumbler, becausehe used to mumble as he walked. he was harmless, but some of the things hewould say were the most *ed up things you’d ever heard. the way he stood vincent, it was downrightcreepy. he had his hands pulled in, like a pictureof someone being paranoid wringing his hands constantly and it was pulled up to his faceas he mumbled. he’d walk the halls aimlessly and mumble.

the nurses and doctors used to tell us ifany of the crazy people made conversation to play along. act like we were right there with them inthe struggle. when they heard voices we heard them too. i used to play along sometimes, but i don’twork with the true crazy people much, and when the mumbler joined the cooking classeshe was pretty well useless. he stood there and just… mumbled. one day i tried to see if he would join. i walked up to him and realized right awayhe had soiled his diaper, he smelt absolutely

awful. now don’t get me wrong i cared for thesepeople, that’s why i was there. i called a nurse and out loud said he shithimself. most of the time these crazies know they arecrazy and don’t care when you say stuff like that or more than likely are totallyoblivious all together. this guy screamed so loud it was ear piercing. “shit! shit! i shit!

i shit!” this scared the others he kept repeating itover and over. the nurses gave me a mean look and took himaway screeching in the halls how he shit himself. i knew this was one of those guys that wasprobably found painting the walls of his house with his own feces. i didn’t think anything about him otherthen how weird he was, crazy people are crazy and yes it was out of the ordinary, but notreally when you consider the experiments these people went through. he never came back to class after that.

six months later i was walking the halls andsaw him again, without a nurse. i figured he had gotten out. i asked him where he was suppose to be. even though you know for a fact a crazy personisn’t dangerous you still need to make sure you don’t just walk up to them and grabthem. i knew this after years of getting attackedby them. i kept my distance and he didn’t respondhe just mumbled. i listened to him and i could make out this,“mama, i killed mama. daddy, i killed him too.

jerry, he hurt me first, he had to die. but sissy… why did i kill sissy…” my heart skipped a beat. i realized he was counting on his hands. when he got to his sister, it was like hewas actually wondering why he killed her. i kept listening. “wife, you leaked red, why did you do that? baby… your head was full of worms and gum,i had to let them out. i had to eat them so you would be safe.”

i wasn’t sure how to handle the situationbut i was pretty sure the mumbler was a guy who snapped killed his whole family and itturned his brain into mush. i looked at him and said,“harold, buddy, let’s go see the nurses.” he looked at me with black beady eyes. his hands stopped moving because he stoppedcounting. my heart started racing. he looked at me and said,“why do i kill? when will the voices stop.” like i said before, the nurses always saidplay along.

“harold, what are the voices saying?” god i knew this was a loaded question. “kill, they always want me to kill, killpeople, they told me we are all trapped bill.” he grabbed his skin when he said trapped. this guy was being told we are trapped inour bodies and when we die we are released. i don’t think he was trying to discuss philosophywith me. my heart started racing more, his hands wentto his sides. he had no weapon, but he could still attackme. i had to think on my feet how to distracthim and get the nurse's attention without

escalating the situation. “harold let’s tell the voices togetherto shut up.” i suggested, he nodded. “let’s yell, ready, one… two… three” together we screamed shut up forabout ten second. the nurses came running and the took him anddetained him. he immediately began struggling as they wereso rough with him. he repeated shut up over and over then hejust screamed over and over, they put him

in a straight jacket and hauled him off intohis room. i obviously needed to write a statement forthe incident. i let the doctors know what i did and thehead doctor praised me and said i handled that very well. never ever approach a crazy person with theidea they are going to be calm and collected just because they’ve been through therapy. the doctor closed his door behind me and askedme to sit down. “do you know why he is here?” he asked, of course i didn’t and i toldhim.

“he was normal like you and i, but whenhe came back from vietnam his mind never left the war. one day he just… snapped. he started screaming and killed his entirefamily.” he looked at me and paused. i knew there was more. “they found him, bill, eating the brainsof his child. his baby bill.” i looked wide eyed at him and said,“what the *!” i said, remember how talked

about worms in the head of his baby. he turned around and looked out the window. “war is tragic, he is one of those peoplewe can’t help. we can’t kill him, so he sits in the hospitalheavily sedated counting the people he’s killed. i’m not sure how he got out, but if he isever unattended or given a weapon, i don’t know what he will do.” he grabbed a pen off his desk and toyed withit for a bit. “bill, sometimes i wonder… if we'll endup like him.

one day you’re a normal guy. the next you’re a psychopath walking thehalls of an asylum defecating yourself and counting all the people you’ve killed. sometimes i wonder.” he paused for a minute. “if they are just better off dead.” i looked at him strange. “no, doc, you and i are sane, i think there'smore than just trauma at play, he’s probably genetically unstable.

you and i won't end up like that, and theyare worth helping.” i always felt like i needed to be the voiceof reason. asylums were for the better, if nothing elseit kept the crazies off the street. he leaned in on his table and looked me squarein the eye. “bill, the reason we keep people like himhere isn’t to help them. its to study the brain and prevent othersfrom… become like that.” he pointed off to the side. this hit home to me, he was right. only a few of us there actually cared aboutthe truly insane ones.

vincent, it still makes me sick to think that,that doctor thought that low of those people. a vet who went crazy, now shitting his pantsevery single day, and that doctor just saw him as a science experiment. what the hell! #3. for reference, my name’s erik and i hada best friend named axel. not anymore, as you could probably guess frommy wording. axel and i were childhood friends - best friends. we lived on the same street, and by the timewe were five, we were inseparable.

at least according to our parents. from reading the title of this post, you guysare probably thinking something along the lines of “how the * did axel get into aninsane asylum?” let me make it clear right now: axel wasn’tinsane. sure, he was a sarcastic son of a bitch, buthe was a normal teenager. i’ve read some of the stories here on nosleepwhich describe some people of just not being “right” from the moment they’re born. axel wasn’t like that. he was a perfectly normal and happy kid - straightthrough kindergarten to senior year.

it wasn’t his fault. it was all mine. two years ago, right after graduation, axeland his parents were heading over to his grandparents in los angeles to celebrate him going to college. it was a six to seven hour drive (we livein northern california), and they wanted to arrive early in the morning. they barely left the city when a drunk drivert-boned their car - a full tractor trailer ramming into a tiny honda civic. both of axel’s parents died on impact.

the doctors said it was a miracle that axeleven survived. at first, we were hopeful. somehow, axel had managed to avoid any majorspinal injuries. with therapy, he would be able to walk again- move his entire body. it didn’t look like his brain had been damagedso that he would be unable to function again. if he woke up, he could recover. the thing is, he never woke up. the first week was understandable. by the third week, we were begging the doctorsfor some sort of explanation.

they could never find one. theoretically, he should have woken up. there was nothing wrong. needless to say, i didn’t react very wellto the accident. axel’s father and mother were basicallya second set of parents to me. axel himself was more like a brother to methan a neighbor. my real brother was already studying on theother side of the continent. for the very first time i could remember,i was alone. of course, i still had my parents and otherfriends and everything, but axel had always

been there. a constant presence - sometimes a warm blanketand other times an annoying pest that wouldn’t leave me alone. but regardless, he had always been there - andto see him disappear was a little more than i could take. axel in my mind had always been a strong individualwho wouldn’t let anything stop him from getting his way. seeing him unresponsive in some hospital beddidn’t seem real. that said, you could probably guess i wasn'texactly thinking straight for the next few

months after the accident. had my mom not driven me to my new collegeand dumped me on the sidewalk, i probably wouldn't have gone at all (it’s only a 30minute drive from my house). five months after the accident, axel stilldidn’t show any signs of waking up - and nobody knew why. as i said above, i’m not a computer person. after the accident, i didn’t really touchmy crappy 2011 chromebook unless i had to type up a paper or something. my skype account and facebook were basicallyuntouched until like, i shit you not, this

year. if someone had to communicate with me, itwas either through phone or my yahoo account. and even then, i checked my email, on average,twice a week. that’s probably the only reason why i clickedon that email. now that i look back, i should have immediatelymoved it to my spam box. but because of my stupid human curiosity,i didn’t. the email itself was not special or extravagantenough for me to post here. the only thing in the message box was a link. the sender was some no_reply sort of thing- and i thought the link would just send me

to some other site i hadn’t heard of yet. instead, it just sent me to some sort of chatroom. you know cleverbot? it was basically that - only without the logo. i remember explicitly moving my mouse overto the “x” on the tab when a line of text appeared. do you want to save your best friend? that scared me. i hadn’t really discussed axel’s accidentwith anyone - not even my family.

the people who really did know the situationknew that axel was probably never going to wake up. the only conclusion i could really come upwith was it was just some asshole from my high school that decided it would be funnyto play this sick joke on me. so, with my grand typing speed of 45 wpm,i told the guy to * off. i was surprised when i got a response almostimmediately. i can help you. i shouldn’t have kept going, but i was tiredand already pissed off at my english professor, so i did.

if i remember correctly, it was somethingabout how making fun of a person induced in a coma was a really shitty way to pass time. once again, i got another response which completelyignored my obvious lack of enthusiasm. i can bring him back. because i didn’t have anything else betterto do, i asked him what he wanted to bring back. i wish i didn’t. axel’s soul. just putting it out there, i’m not a religiousperson.

though i wasn’t a hardcore atheist, i didn’treally believe in things like souls and other crap like that. unfortunately, the chat, however, had me intrigued. whoever was behind this knew axel’s nameand that i was his best friend. “what an elaborate prank,” i thought backthen as i promptly told the other party to stop spamming me. why do you think axel’s not waking up? that was the line that really got me - andone of the reasons why i can still remember this chat verbatim two years later.

i stood up so fast that my chair was knockedover. the pain of axel trapped in that coma wasstill ever present, and despite all my beliefs, i started to wonder in the back of my head:what if axel wasn’t waking up because...his soul wasn’t there? his body was perfectly fine - at least medically,so it would make sense that he wasn’t awake because he was missing something else. something like a soul. almost as if the person behind the screencould see me, another line of text appeared without me replying.

i can save him. but i need your help. not suspicious at all, right? i wish someone was there back in my dorm totell me that to my face back two years ago. but back then, all i could think was: whatif he was telling the truth? what if this wasn’t some prank, and thisguy really could save axel? i was desperate - and five months of pentup emotions weren’t really helping either. i remember asking the person behind the screenspecifically, “this isn’t a prank right?” no.

i will bring back all of him. i just need your help. and then i typed, “all of axel? all of axel’s soul?” i wish i paid more attention to that thing’sreply. i will bring back all axels. what did i have to lose? now i realize, i had so much to lose. but of course, now, it’s too late.

“what do you need me to do?” i need your approval. that should have been the giveaway. but it didn’t click in my stupid cloudedmind. the possibility of saving axel… i was willing to take it. if it was something as simple as my approval…whowouldn’t do that for their best friend? who wouldn’t want to save their best friend? the word “okay” barely left my lips whenthe line of text appeared once again on that

white textbox. your contract has been approved. i didn’t even stop to wonder how the personknew i said “okay” when i didn’t even type my reply. all i could do was jump when i heard my phonering. i recognized the number immediately - it wasthe hospital axel was staying in. i will never forget the receptionist’s voiceover the phone as she explained to me how axel woke up. how he woke up screaming and clawing his throat.

how, by the time i arrived at the hospitaland looked into his eyes, i didn’t see “axel” anymore. how he never stopped screaming - even whenthe doctors gagged him to prevent him from biting his tongue off. how every time i saw him from then on, i sawa completely different person looking at me through his eyes. i thought that “axels” had been a typo. only when i saw that text on my phone didi really realize how wrong i had been. see?

i brought all of them, just like i promised. to this day, i’m still not sure what i did. i screamed at my phone for a reply - hell,i even drove all the way back to my dorm and screamed at my laptop. i never got a reply. and axel never recovered. he was awake, but it wasn’t him. eventually, they had to move him to an insaneasylum because they couldn’t get him to stop screaming.

from what i hear, they had to cuff his handsand feet with some sort of padding to prevent himself from scratching his throat out. i only visited him once - and that was a yearand a half ago. i still can’t get rid of his screams frommy nightmare. and now, here i am, two years later in a completelydifferent dorm with a less shitty computer and a somewhat better mental state typingto you guys because i’m scared. i just got a call from the asylum. axel wants to talk to me. but i’m not sure if it’s even him anymore.

#4. i want to start this story off by saying iam a twenty-two year old guy living in a small town in upstate ny. my name is kevin, i won’t use my last namefor obvious reasons. my father (steve) was a doctor and a brilliantman, he also died to save my life. just a little over a year ago i was desperatelybroke, not a penny to my name. you see, although my father had money he reallyhad more of the “just cause i’m rich doesn’t mean my kids are rich.” kind of attitude.

sure he’d buy me food and give me a placeto live, but he never bought me a car, or paid for anything that wasn’t necessary,like going to a concert with friends or something. but he did do one thing, and that was findme a job. i was 100 percent against it when he firsttold me about it. being one of the biggest doctors in our area,he had tons of connections to the community, especially in his field. so his grand idea was to have me work at apsych ward. father of the year. well anyway, like i said, i was 100 percentagainst it.

“what are you *ing crazy?” i think were my first words in response. “25 bucks an hour.” was his response. that was enough for me to break, especiallywhen my bank account balance was looking like a string of cheerios. before i said yes to him however, i neededto know what i had to do. he told me i would basically be a janitorto which i scrunched my face at. but that 25 an hour was too tempting.

“how the hell did you get me that wage? do you know the guy or something?” “sure do.” he said. “bob conti. i already talked to him on the phone yesterday. you walk down there tomorrow and you tellthat guinea your pops says ‘lay off the gold chains.” i was never going to say that to him.

the next day i rode my bike the 6 mile journeyto williams asylum. the bleak white painted building had no lifeto it. it gave a crawling feeling to my skin. the front doors creaked when i opened them,the peeling paint crinkling under my fingers. i was immediately greeted by a 30-35 yearold woman sitting in a small lounge area. “hello!” she said in a bubbly tone. “how can i help you?” she said smiling. “um.

hi i’m kevin.” i said uneasily. “yeah so i think i’m supposed to meetwith bob? bob conti.” “oh yes.” she said. “bob is in his office right now, if youfollow me i can bring you right to him.” “okay.” i said as she was standing from her desk.

she walked in a calm fashion, her high heelsechoing off the corridor halls, clacking on every step. her brown hair bouncing along with her rhythm. a little over dressed for the job i thought. “bob!” she called out down the hall tothe approaching door. “bob, you have a visitor.” she paused. “what’s your name again?” she asked nicely.

“kevin.” i said. “kevin is here to see you!” she said through the door. “i’m tammy by the way.” she said in a quieter tone to me. the door opened moments later with a tallman standing on the other side. “hello there kevin.” he said in a tired voice.

“how can i help you?” “yeah, my father talked to you on the phoneabout starting work here, he told me to talk to you.” i said, unsure of the actions to take next. “oh right right, well first off i shouldstart by showing you around the place.” he said, leaving his office. “your main job will be feeding the patientsand washing the bathrooms, and generally just keeping things clean around here.” “feeding them?”

i questioned, uneasy of the task. “well really all you have to do is put alunch tray through the feeding slot in their cells, it’s not like you’re spoon feedingthem.” he explained. i gave a sigh of relief. his way of speaking of the patients gave mechills, he referred to them almost as animals. “conti? is that northern italian?” i asked, trying to get to know him a bit.

“what’s that?” he said with a twist on his face. that’s italian right?” i asked again. “oh! conti. i thought you said monty.” he said jokingly. “yeah northern italian.

good guess.” i laughed and asked him to tell me a bit moreabout the job. “there are only 10 patients here, 1 of whichis in 24 hour solitary. not to scare you but i must tell you. he is a murderer. he is clinically insane and not allowed inprisons. and under no circumstances are you to evertalk to him. he is very manipulative and violent. please for your own safety, if you ever havea concern or question about him, come to myself

or tammy.” he said with a serious look in his eyes. i could instantly feel the direness of hiswords. “i understand.” i said with a gulp. “okay. anyway,” he said. “right now the other 9 patients are in theirrooms, and will get to come out a little later for their nightly hour of common room time.

believe it or not most of them play boardgames while a few play with the imaginary bunnies that walk around with them. it will take some time getting used to buttrust me, it’s not as hard as it sounds.” “i guess i’m going to have to take yourword on that one.” “this is the common room.” he said as we rounded the corner to a smallroom with a few tables and chairs strewn about; a few different board games on the shelves. “all you have to do is sit right there forabout an hour and make sure nobody kills anybody.” my jaw dropped.

unable to say anything. “i’m kidding! i’m kidding! the other 9 inmates are all nonviolent, theyhave 0 records of physical altercations. they’ve got some foul mouths though so beready for that.” he reassured. he showed me the bathrooms, and the holdingcells, and the rest of the grounds until finally the tour was over and we were back at hisoffice. “so most of the time i’m in my office,doing the paper work for invoices and making

sure i’ve made the orders for food shipmentsand whatnot, ya know, ownership stuff. anyway, you can always talk to tammy if youneed anything, she’s usually at her desk. think of her as you sub-boss. welcome aboard.” he said with an extending handshake. “w-what do i do now?” i said in an unsure voice. “talk to tammy, she will run you throughthe specifics.” he said as he slowly closed the door.

i walked down the winding, confusing hallways,finally making my way to tammy’s desk. “so?” “so. this is more than half the job.” she said with her arms extended to the side. “sitting on your ass and waiting for theday to end.” “wait really?” i asked skeptically. “yup.”

“you’re looking at it.” “soooo what am i supposed to do.” i still asked. “ya know what, i can let the patients outearly tonight so you can see how that works.” she explained. “bob shouldn’t mind.” i agreed since i really had no other choice,we walked back down the maze of corridors to the long narrow stretch of hallway extendingfrom the common room. the long hall had 5 doors on each side, allidentical; solid and white with a tint of

yellow from the aging. each had a small slot in the door which leadto a tray like feature on the other side. the decaying tiles on the wall had faded colorsof a pale brown. tammy walked in front of me, jingling thekeys in her hands while opening the first door on the right. “here’s ol’ jackson.” she said as the door creaked open. a shadow eyed man with grey hair slowly roseto his feet. his back hunched and purple bags sagging formthe hallow sockets dug into his skull.

he seemed to hardly have the energy to saunterby me with an indifference to my existence. i was overwhelmed with feelings when i sawmy first patient. the next few doors were the same story; shellsof human beings walking down the narrow hallway, dead eyed and distant. zombies. on the sixth door finally there was a change. an older black man with an obvious scar runningits length down the side of his head. he had short hair and one whitened eye. his appearance shocked me at first, but laterintrigued me.

i was desperate to know what happened to him. “whassup man. i see you lookin’ at me dog” the man spokein quick manner, his words spitting form his mouth. he stood to his feet and walked by both tammyand myself, still bantering about his stories. “i had 6 tigers, 4 lions, 17 mountain lions,ya know the ones from the mountains not the ones from africa. home land. shit man lions and tigers and bears-”tammy interrupted him, i assume she was sick

of his ramblings, as was i. “that’s rick, he probably won’t answerto that though.” “damn straight i won’t answer to that. scar’s the name.” he said with a twisting face. tammy rolled her eyes. “moving on.” cell 7 and cell 8 had 2 older women who seemedto be very twitchy. flinching and ducking at things that weren’tthere, and eventually sprinting down the hall.

“ann and kate.” she called them. cell 9 held a young woman with fiery eyes. she had a tight muzzle strapped around herface, muffling her screams. her eyes pierced straight through me withterror. tammy had to practically drag her from hercell. “oh, come on renee. he’s not going to hurt you.” tammy kept reassuring her.

the woman was desperately trying to screamwords to myself and tammy. she finally broke free from tammy’s graspand manically sprinted down the hall. tammy was swift after her, tackling her tothe floor and crashing into the common room. the other patients watched in surprise. tammy forcibly ripped the frightened patientto her feet, walking her back down the hall. she shoved her into the cell and slammed tothe door shut. “you can stay in there until you learn howto act in the common room!” she screamed with fury to renee. she slammed her hand 4 times on the door inclear anger.

i had no idea what to do. i was frozen. i gulped as i watched the scene unfold. tammy finally removed her attention from renee,the disgruntled patient. “ugh.” she sighed out. “i’m sorry.” she mumble. “i-i.

i don’t think i can do this.” i said as i slowly turned my back to her andbegan to leave the building. “no! you can’t leave,” she said “we desperatelyneed the extra help around here. as you can see.” her voice still trembling with stress. i now heard the haunting screams of a deepervoice. the man in cell 10. also muffeled by what i assume was a muzzle.

i took a deep breath, followed by a long stretchof silence. “come on, i can show you the games we playwith some of the patients.” she said with longing. i finally broke. it may have had something to do with her attractiveness. her face was the definition of perfect. and her body wasn’t far behind. she smiled wide with my acceptance to therest of the job. we made our way to the common room where thepatients had been still dazzled by what they

had seen. “who wants to play house?” tammy broke the silence with her question. surprisingly, jackson, scar, ann, and kateall happily volunteered to join in on the game. the old man, jackson, feebly rose is handas if too afraid to ask a question. “yes jackson?” tammy questioned, her voice held a tone thatan adult would use with a toddler. “c-can i be the baby?”

his raspy voice seeped out. “well of course you can, jackson. you’ve already got your diapers on!” she laughed. jackson had a dopey eyed smile on as he pulledhis pants down to show us his shit stained diapers. i instantly retracted on impulse. i gagged as the smell hit my nose. i almost puked all over him.

“kevin!” tammy shouted. “you can’t act like that around the patients. oh look now he’s crying.” the skinny man sobbed uncontrollably and finallyran to the other corner of the room to sulk. tammy left in a huff after the man, pickingup a spare diaper on the way. “did baby jackson make a poopy?” she said with a smile. he giggled and lifted his legs in the air,she stripped him and proceeded to change his

diaper in the middle of the room. once again i was frozen in disbelief. i wanted to say something but i couldn’t. this couldn’t be legal. i was disgusted to the point of nausea. meanwhile scar was lying on his back pantinglike a dog and kicking his legs in the air. “i’m the pooch yo!” he laughed hysterically. “bark bark!”

tammy popped her head up from her disgustingduty. “yes you are, rick. you’re a good boy.” “i’m scar!” he screamed. “roof-roof, ar-rooooooooo!” jackson clapped his hands when tammy was donechanging his diaper. she slipped his pants back on and stood himto his feet. she quickly ran over to scar and started rubbinghis belly.

he slabbed his tongue out and rolled fromside to side. “ruff-ruff hehehehehe ruff.” kate perked her eyes and exclaimed that shewanted to be the wife. “wife?” tammy questioned. “to me? that would make you a lesbian. you’re not a lesbian are you kate.” “no!”

kate yelled. “i’m his wife.” she said, pointing to me. i didn’t know what to do. i looked to tammy for guidance. she raised her eyebrows at me as if i shouldplay along. kate started walking towards me a wide smileon her face. i stepped back a few feet and she finallyreached me. her arms coiled around me tightly and squeezed.

my hands shook as she squeezed even harder. i glared at tammy waiting for her to do somethingabout it. “she’s just playing, kevin.” tammy said with no concern. “are you sure?” i hardly managed to squeak out. finally kate loosened her grasp and stoodback. i took a breath in the momentary calmness. her hands struck back up and clenched my face.

she pulled my face towards hers. i twisted my body from her and shoved heraway. tammy quickly intervened and reprimanded kate. i stormed out of the room, unable to processwhat was going on. i ended up sitting down in the front lobbybreathing heavily and staring out the front door. looking back i have no idea why i didn’twalk out at that moment and just be done with something told me to stay. i could distantly here tammy’s screams tothe patients, sending them all back to their

rooms, clearly angry with kate’s behavior. finally she came to the lobby. a fluster in her breath. i said the first words before she could sayanything. “this is *ed up.” “i seriously cannot do this shit.” “listen, kevin. they are excited to see someone new in hereand just acting erratically, they are almost always calm and controllable.”

she tried to explain. everything is *ed up!” “you’re playing house with a bunch oflooneys and one of them wants to have sex with me!” i defended my right of being upset. “you really should not referrer to the patientslike that.” she said flatly. there was a long stretch of silence in thesmall lobby. “i think you should go home for the nightand think about it.”

“but i urge you give it another shot tomorrow.” i said nothing as i walked out the doors. the first thing i did when i got home wastell my dad about the events. i explained to him that i just couldn’tdo it. he insisted that i go back. “come on, kevin. don’t make me look bad. bob told me over and over again how they werestruggling to find good workers around there. and here the man offers you 25 bucks and hourand you say you can’t do it.

just please, for your father, go back tomorrow.” i couldn’t say no to the man. noon the next day. right back at it. tammy was glad i was back. she even cooked me lunch. a few thinly cut pieces of venison betweentwo thick slices of white bread. it was worth it coming back just for thatsandwich. “damn that was amazing.”

“i haven’t had venison since i was like6, i forgot how good it tasted.” “thanks.” she said with a half laughing smile. the next few hours tammy and i just sat talkingwaiting for the common room time, talking about mindless stuff. finally she decided it was time to let thepatients out, we walked down the winding hallways to the common room. she told me to wait there while she releasedall the patients. she was back shortly after, a flood of wackosbehind her.

some of the quieter ones began playing checkerswith each other while the other livelier group came to tammy and myself. “have i ever told you i used to have 8 komododragons?” scar chimed in. “ names were charlie, bruce, lil’terry,big terry, sebastian…” “okay who’s ready to play house?” tammy asked, cutting scar off. they all jumped for excitement when she suggestedit. it just creeped me out, their facial expressionchilled me.

i just needed to leave the room. “where’s the bathroom, tammy?” “just down the hall past the cells rooms.” she told me. i quickly left the room, jetting past thecell hallway, hearing the haunting muffled screams of the man in cell 10. chills ran through my whole body. i finally made it to the bathroom, i didn’teven have to go. i just sat on the toilet for about 10 minutesuntil i could gather my thoughts.

i walked back down the halls slowly, not evenreally wanting to get back to the common room. the man had seemed to have stopped screaming. i got closer to the hall and my spine tingled. before long i was standing at the end of thelong, dead end hallway, directly in front of cell 10. i was strangely curious. with the same longing feeling to look downwhen you’re standing atop a towering ledge, i was staring at the pale white door. there was no sound what so ever.

no movement, no breathing, no screaming. nothing. i crouched down, slowly moving my face tothe feeding slot, peaking through with my eyes. i could barely see anything, mostly shadowsand an obstructed view from the feeding tray. i knelt down to try to get a better glance. as i re-positioned myself, i noticed somethingon the floor just by the door frame. a small puddle of deep red blood, poolinga few inches out from the door. i lost my breath.

as i looked back up through the slot, i wasstaring at two bloodshot eyes split open in terror. i fell to my back, fear engulfing my body. my head slammed on the door of cell 9, directlyacross the hall from cell 10. i had forgot there was a patient in cell 9,that is, until she started her screaming again. the man in cell 10 started slamming what iassume was his face or hands against the door. i quickly scrambled to my feet and startedmaking my way back to the common room to tell tammy the patient was bleeding. at the end of the hall stood kate.

her eyes pierced me. “hello, husband.” she said coldly. she started walking towards me with haste. i didn’t even hesitate to burst by her,i slammed her body against the wall and ran the narrow hallways to the common room. tammy was sitting on the couch with her backto me while the patients wondered, free to do what they like. “are you even paying attention!”

i screamed at her. “you got crazy *s walking all over the placeand you’re sitting in here-” my words were cut off from the shock of what i wasseeing as i walked to the front side of the couch. jackson laid on his side, his head in herlap, while he sucked on her exposed nipple. “what the * is going on here!?” i screamed in disbelief. tammy quickly jumped up, putting her breastback in her shirt. “feed the baby!

feed the baby!” jackson happily exclaimed. “he’s just playing.” tammy pleaded. i shook my head in disgust. “i’m going to tell bob.” “no you can’t!” she screamed as she followed after me. i made it to bob’s office much quicker thanshe had, opening the door unannounced.

he was sitting at his desk, the barrel ofa pistol in his mouth. he looked at me with surprise and pulled itout of his mouth swiftly. i was in shock. he quickly turned to anger. “never interupt me during my private time!”his voice shaking in rage. his face turned red with fury as he stoodfrom his desk. the photo on his medical license hung in contraston the wall behind him. his calm smiling face on the document seemedto mock him from behind. i looked at the photo with more focus.

dread seeped into my soul, for i came to realizethe man in the photo on the wall and the man behind the desk were not the same people. my heart sunk, at first i had no idea whatto do. i backed out of the office slowly until icame into contact with tammy. she was hysterical and screaming that i nottell bob. the intense skittishness of myself at thetime caused me to back hand her with reactive fear. she fell to the ground instantly, the keysto cells sliding across the hall. my gut wrenched as the gears in my head startedturning, piecing together what i thought was

happening. i snatched the keys and sprinted down thetwisting halls, dodging the wandering, dead eyed patients. i went straight to cell number ten and twistedthe key in the door. my suspicions were confirmed when i saw theman. the same man from the photo in the office. bob conti. my stomach twisted and i nearly threw up wheni realized what i had eaten earlier in the he had multiple hunks of meat removed fromhis thigh, blood running down his legs and

pooling on the ground. before i could even react, i glanced downthe long tight hallway to see tammy. standing still with a petrifying twist inher eyes. a knife with dried blood dangling from herright hand. her head tilted and a soul killing smile creptacross her face. i stepped away, my back hitting the dead endwall. she moved with inhuman speed towards me, theknife raised with intent. she hissed at me with a loudness of a frightenedcat. i stumbled over my own feet and fell intothe cell.

she slammed the door shut and made chillingcackles of laughter. “did someone get scared?” she giggledthrough the feeding slot. she jabbed the knife through the hole repeatedly,boisterously laughing with insanity. she finally walked away, leaving us lockedin the room. i had the keys, but they served no purposefrom inside the cell. i removed bob’s muzzle and he explainedto me what had happened, and that the woman in cell 9 (renee) was his receptionist. there was nothing we could do. i spent the next 18 hours in that god forsakencell.

waiting for my death. i’m sure most of you are wondering aboutmy father, and why i started this story off explaining that he died to save my life. when i didn’t come home that night he musthave been extremely worried. he wanted to speak with bob in person to seeif he had heard from me or knew where i may have gone. the man who had impersonated bob shot andkilled my father, but not before he called the police to let them know something waswrong. the man behind the desk died in a shootoutwith the police and they had to use a blow

torch to open the doors to both cell 10 andcell 9. renee was somewhat back to normal within thefirst year, but bob never recovered. i don’t think i have either. the police say there was never a woman inthe building or around the area that matched the description of tammy. it’s been a year now. the reason i’m telling this story todayis because last night, i saw tammy. there’s no mistaking it. her face has been burned into my mind.

she was standing in front of my house, juststaring with cold eyes. i have no idea how she could have found me,no explanation whatsoever. i’m in serious fear for my life. i’ve already contacted the police and theywill be keeping an eye on my house day and night. i cannot live my life with this perpetualfear. #5. you see, marjorie and i are twins - growingup we did everything together. we wore the same outfits, had our hair donein the same braids, and we played with the

same toys. we shared everything except our personalities- i was always much more social and extroverted than marjorie, outshining her in school andother activities; she was quiet and often sank into the background while i performedand excelled, but it was undeniable that we cared about eachother. i’m not sure you ever really know when someoneyou love is crazy… but with marjorie, i can remember a distinct point at age 7 wheni began to think something was unusual. we’d been going to bed and i was unableto find my favorite cabbage patch kid doll which i had been sleeping with for years.

when i finally saw her sun-yellow hair underthe toy chest i grabbed her out excitedly but screamed and recoiled when i saw thatshe had been shredded and dismembered - with deep scratches all across her eyes and mouth. i told my parents what marjorie had done andthey chuckled in disbelief… that night marjorie whispered to me ‘it will be our little secret.’ by the time we’d finished high-school notmuch had changed - if anything we’d grown even more dramatically different. i’d been popular, invited by many boys toprom, and marjorie had been distant, eating lunch alone and refusing to participate inanything.

my parents didn’t seem to care either way,they were there for us in whatever capacity we wanted them to be, marjorie simply didn’tseem to want anything. we went to the same university and shareda dorm room. my freshman year was a blur of parties anddrinking coupled with late night cram sessions. marjorie said she was doing fine and enjoyingherself but sometimes i felt as though she was a bystander in her own life, doing verylittle and just watching. it was also my freshman year that i was raped. i had awoken from a weekend night and immediatelyknew something was wrong - i couldn’t remember anything, except i was in incredible painand saw blood stains all across my clothes.

when i looked up, marjorie was tenderly smoothingmy hair saying ‘it will be our little secret.’ that morning, they found the fraternity guyi had last remembered being with. he was stuffed under a dumpster, ripped apartlimb by limb with his eyes and mouth gouged by a deep pocket-knife. my parents called me once the news of themurder spread - but i assured them we were fine. at 23 when i’d gotten my first job, marjoriehad been living with me and working from home. on a day i grabbed lunch with her she sawwhy it had been so easy for me to get the job i had.

my boss was a lecherous creep and had beencoming onto me for weeks since the hire - i didn’t enjoy it, but i didn’t want toruin my budding career. that night after another exhausting day ofwork i could have sworn i heard marjorie say through the bedroom wall ‘it will be ourlittle secret.’ the next morning my boss was found under hisdesk in pieces, with his eyes and lips ripped apart. you need to understand, i was protecting her- i’ve always loved my sister. last month i was mugged on my way home. i’d taken a shortcut late at night and wasattacked by two thugs.

when i came staggering home bruised and beatenin torn clothes i knew what marjorie would say before she even did. ‘it will be our little secret.’ that night she hadn’t been as careful asbefore. the cops were called when morning broke andtwo dead bodies lay strewn across our front lawn in pieces - eyes and mouths covered inhundreds of deep scratches. so now, we’re here visiting her. i think they’re trying to keep us safe frommarjorie because they’ve kept me in a white padded room for a while now.

i spoke to my parents about an hour ago, theykeep telling me ‘marjorie was a stillborn.’ they must be truly distraught, and i hatehaving to look them in the eyes and say ‘this isn’t the time for jokes.’

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