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If you watch every State of the Union Address since it’s been filmed and available on tape, you’ll see that halfway through–exactly halfway through–the President always says the same word. Most say it under their breath during the standing ovations, but some are forced to work it into the speech itself.

 

In rural southern Illinois a toy company began selling "realistic" baby dolls to expectant mothers. But apparently after the mother had her child the toy baby would start crying. Eventually the "rocking motion" advertised to calm it down wouldn't work, and you couldn't get it to stop without shaking it. Eventually when it started crying the parent would have to beat it, and the beatings and thrashings would have to get harder and harder to get it to be quiet. The only thing that seemed to shut the baby doll up permanently was the bash its head against the wall to destroy whatever mechanism triggered the crying. On more than one occasion though, neighbors called the authorities to report child abuse, and when the police arrived they found the bloody remains of infants smeared across the walls and the floor. In most cases the mother couldn't understand why the police were there, she just "got rid of the stupid doll" as she rocked a baby-shaped bundle in her arms.

 

You don't know it, but someone has been removed from your life. They haven't died, they haven't moved, they have simpy ceased to be from present future and history. However you still know they were there, you faintly recall broken memories of someone else there, someone who should have been there but you think you're crazy. You go to do something, but you can't remember what, and it was them, they wanted to talk to you.

 

A few months ago a friend of mine, who is an up-and-coming nature photographer, decided to spend a day and night alone in the woods outside of our town. She wanted to get photos of the woods and wildlife as naturally as she could for her portfolio. She wasn’t afraid of being alone, as she had camped by herself many times before. She set up a tent in the middle of a small clearing and spent the day taking pictures. She filled up four rolls of film on that trip, but something was strange about them. What she saw in those pictures has stayed with her ever since, and she is still trying to recover from the trauma the have caused her.
Almost every picture was accounted for, except for one picture in each roll of film. These pictures were of her, asleep in her tent in the middle of the night.

 

Some people believe a fantasy should be real. They create a surreality out of their beliefs which influence their everyday actions.

Take a ride out to a rural area around dusk and torture something. Could be a person or animal. Enjoy it. This is the closest thing to a spiritual feeling you'll ever come to. Even if it's hard to swallow, force yourself to enjoy it. Make yourself believe that it's easy to overcome things and put yourself down if feelings get in the way. Harden.

Enjoy Satan in you.

 

If you watch long enough, the shadows grow impatient, and move. When in a room alone with your monitor, stare at it. The shadow will slowly close in on you, until you move. Of course, it is afraid of your monitor, as dark cannot snuff out light, but light can indeed destroy the dark. Watch sometime in a room with only internal light. If you stare at them for long enough, the shadows will begin to move. Sometimes you can make out shapes.

These things have lived with you your whole life, and will follow you wherever you may go, unless you command them in the proper authority to leave, and ensure they have no legal right to be there. Few know and understand the proper authority, and even fewer know just what to do.

The shadows are always watching.

 

Have you ever been taking a shower and felt like something was moving around behind the curtain? Especially if you were alone? Like as if something were watching you? Did you look up? Did you catch the very vaguest hint of eyebrows or a tuft of matted, greasy hair above the curtain rod?

That's not a good idea. It doesn't really like it if you see it. It likes it the most when you've got shampoo on your hair, and your eyes are shut tight so they won't sting. Or even better, when there's soap and bubbles all over your soft face. It likes that the best, because your eyes are clenched so tight, and even if you did want to open them, like, if you heard a soft rasping of hard, dense hairs against the plastic shower curtain, or the scratching of claws on bathroom tile, or the gentle splatter of drool or cum or... god knows what... on the floor outside, well, you wouldn't open your eyes because it'd burn. Right?

Right.

Don't open your eyes. Because if you ever see its face, catch its eyes...

Well,

it'll notice.

 

There's a small building somewhere in north western America, up along the border between Oregon and Washington. It's just this short little old shack in the woods off the highway.
Anyways, inside, there's a spiral staircase made of grating that goes straight down.
If you go all the way down, you'll find yourself stepping out into an endless field of tall grass.
There are many bones surrounding the bottom step of the stairs, and things move in the near distance.
Nobody who has ever seen these things has come back to say what they are.

 

A teenage girl, popular, rich, and happy, was walking through a store with her mom and saw a beautiful porcelain doll, which would look great with her collection. She demanded that her mother buy it for her. He mother agreed, and got it for her.
As soon as the girl returned home, she unpacked the doll and set it on a stand above her bed. She then left her room and went out with her friends. When she got home, it was late and she was tired. She went to her room, put on her pajama's and tucked herself into bed.

When she woke up the next morning, she saw a note attached to her lamp beside her bed. It was from her mother, telling her they'd be out of town until next Sunday. She yawned and noticed that her cheek was sore, but she didn't pay much attention to it. She got dressed and went to school.

This went on for a few days until she woke up and her cheek was extremely sore. She decided she'd check it out in a minute or two, then went about her room, picking out what she would wear. She finally decided and walked over to her full body mirror and noticed a large, ugly lump on her cheek.
Figuring it was a pimple, she squeezed it... and felt something moving. All of the sudden, spiders began pulling themselves out of the lump. She screamed, but since there was no one home in her huge house, nobody heard her. She tore at the spiders but there were millions... and she died of the poison in their bites.

Apparently... there was a nest of spiders in the porcelain doll she'd gotten

 

Go into a Subway and tell the clerk you want to order the sandwich they'd always wished a customer would order. They will quickly, quietly, and without expression, craft the sandwich from many different ingredients. The sandwich will be the best thing you've ver tasted. This only works once per clerk. If you ask them to make it again, they will not recollect how. If you attempt to re-construct it, it will fail.

 

I find myself walking with others through forested paths with fields on the right side of me. Suddenly my peripheral vision catches movement, a black shape is descending on upon me with a mask of white bone.

"And the birds of prey, and the philosophers say"

This is where I wake up in a cold sweat.

 

And it will reach out to you.

An unseen hand will grasp yours. You must not flinch away, nor tighten your grasp. To do so will only slough away more of the decrepit flesh that covers it, and anger its unseen owner. Remain perfectly still, as the withered fingers move over your palm, tracing unknown patterns. Do not move an inch as it crawls slowly up your arm. And most of all, do not even breathe as it caresses your face, touching what cannot be seen.

Should you remain still through this, the hand will be withdrawn and a voice will speak, so close you can feel its breath on your face, smell the scent of decay it carries. It will ask you for one simple piece of information: your name. Answer truthfully. Answer truthfully, and the presence will retreat, leaving only a whisper in the air as the darkness lifts. "It is done."

From that day on, untold good fortune will be yours, and mysterious power. You will lack nothing, and have everything. But in a year, perhaps two, you will feel your skin begin to decay, and smell the sweet smell of death upon your breath...

 

Oh. Reminds me of something that happened to me IRL.

This was a few years ago, I was maybe 13 or 14. It was really late, and I didn't have my light on because my parents would see the light from under the door and know I was up when I shouldn't be. Instead I had my TV on, since it was dimmer. It was set to that channel you set it to to run a VCR or video game or something, When none of the above was running, the channel was just a silent blank blue screen.

Totally silent, just the sound of my typing away.

BBBZZZRRFFFTTTTTTTTKKKKKKKKSSSHHSKKKK.

The TV suddenly switched from silent blank blue, to bats-in-a-snowstorm black and white static. Apparently, the TV does this when left on that channel with nothing running for too long.

Words cannot describe how badly it scared the shit out of me when it happened.

 

There is a doorway, one that can be any door, at any time. This door leads nowhere, yet there lies a realm of twisted reality to the opener. This door exists for everyone - some never encounter it in their lives, others unknowingly open it and step through.

The problem is, you can't tell if the door is open to you, until years after you step through it. You'll see them, and they'll finally see you.

 

awesome pls

 

There is a moment each leap year, at exactly three minutes past three on the morning of February twenty-ninth. If you possess the courage, await that moment in darkened room, with no other present. At that moment, the darkness will deepen. If you were to hold you hand directly before your face, you would not see a thing. But you must not do so. No, for that would be to waste the moment. Instead you must reach out, into that impenetrable darkness.

 

It has been reported that some victims of rape, during the act, would retreat into a fantasy world from which they could not WAKE UP. In this catatonic state, the victim lived in a world just like their normal one, except they weren't being raped. The only way that they realized they needed to WAKE UP was a note they found in their fantasy world. It would tell them about their condition, and tell them to WAKE UP. Even then, it would often take months until they were ready to discard their fantasy world and PLEASE WAKE UP.

 

This is a long story, My last, It is 11 pages long and a good read, It is an exact rip of the original site it was posted on, Simply click on the pic in the center to begin.


http://simmasix.org/main/trek/Caver.html

 

Too graphic for now