#creepytales

[tales-from-a-little-witch]

The ghost stole her birth control

So this is a story from my Aunt Sara and I'm gonna tell it to y'all the exact way that she told it to me.

Art by: fuzeniaa

So when reading this imagine it in the voice of a mid 50's year old southern lady telling you this.

Here we go!:

"Now, lemme tell you what, baby. I believe the Devil done snatched away my birth control, and I was almost. So, this all took place when I was livin' in Nashville in my mid-twenties, stayin' in this here trailer real close to one o' them crazy-ass, backward churches.

Real drink-the-koolaid sorta folks, believe ya me. Now, y'all listen up, I was livin' all by my lonesome, and nobody knew where I was. Nobody was gettin' in or leavin' my trailer without me catchin' wind, ya hear?

Hold on, I'm gettin' to the weird part. You see, my birth control kept disappearin', turnin' up in the most outlandish places, like under the kitchen sink, behind the outhouse, on the floor under the damn fridge. Something ain't right here.

I spend weeks and weeks, wrackin' my brain, tryna figure out what's goin' down, but ain't got a darn clue. So, I start talkin' to my neighbors, askin' them if they seen any strangers snoopin' around my trailer. And would ya believe it? They swear they ain't seen a thing. But then, an old lady who used to live there with her daughter pipes up, sayin',

"Oh, that's Trish."

I'm mighty confused, so I ask,

"Who the hell is Trish?!"

I'm thinkin' someone's been snoopin' around inside my trailer!

but then the old gal drops some news that leaves me slack-jawed and shocked. She says Trish is an old lady who used to live in the trailer and passed away right in there.

So then the old lady tells me Trish was one of them "arrow folks," like the Mormon-type folks from the church, ya know? I reckon they call themselves arrows or somethin' like that, I can't be sure.

They got a Bible verse all their own, somethin' like, "Blessed is the man whose... uhh, arrow holder is full of 'em."

You know, the thing that holds an the arrows.

They believe in havin' a brood of youngins, as many as you can pop out. "

This is where I asked her

" a quiver??? "

" That's the word I was looking for! They go by "quiver" 'cause they think you're meant to fill up your quiver with as many children as possible, y'know?

Yeah, them "quiver" folks ain't too fond of birth control or that sort of thing. Personally, I think they're a bit peculiar, if you know what I mean.

So, I done thinkin' the Devil's been meddlin' with my birth control, and come to find out, I was closer to the truth than I thought. Now, I'm madder than a wet hen at this ol' Bible-thumpin' busybody.

So, I march back to my trailer and I holler,

" Listen up, ol' broad, I've had about enough of you messin' with my stuff!! I tell ya, You keep pokin' your nose where it don't belong, I'll call up my uncle, he's a preacher, damn near the best of em, and he'll straighten out your backwards ass real fast!! "

Well, I'll be damned if that crap didn't stop on a dime, That old haint didn't bother me none no more, nope sir. I did hang some nails up over my door after that though, wanted to keep her out.

Well, there you have it! My tale of mystery and mischief, as they say!"

[danvy121994]

amore e psiche

La mia psiche mi tormenta, con immagini di guerra

di dolore e sofferenza.

Racchiusa nella mia crisalide.

Il mio letto è congelato senza la sua presenza, notte insonni e pensierose

Tengono sveglie le mie membra.

Il buio mi stordisce e

I miei pensieri si esacerbano, pensando al passato

Quello che fu;

Al solo ricordo di ciò che ero.

Ciò che sono ora,

Nascosta

Celata

Occultata.

Apro gli occhi e il buio mi accarezza, cullandomi fino al risveglio. Sono sempre in quella stanza buia, fredda e umida. Riesco a vedere la mia luna, con cui parlo ogni notte. Oggi è tondeggiante e brillante; rilascia il suo bagliore nella stanza, illuminando le mie braccia, adornate da agghiaccianti

impronte e le mie gambe piene dei suoi graffi, morsi. Il suo affetto.

Sento la porta di casa aprirsi, il mio amore, il mio angelo. Lo sento togliere le scarpe e andare in cucina per preparare la nostra cena. Mentre cuoce va nella sua camera, per togliere i suoi vestiti del lavoro; prima la camicia scambiandola per una t-shirt, poi i pantaloni del completo, optando per dei pantaloni della tuta e infine mettendo delle ciabatte in gomma. Per quando ha finito la cena è pronta, è mercoledì quindi sarà pollo e insalata.

Scende le scale lentamente, poggia giù il cibo nei gradini per aprire le serrature. Il cibo ha un odore buonissimo, il mio benevole custode, il mio protettore, che mi difende dal mondo cruento che è al di fuori di queste mura, apre la porta e si siede affianco a me, porgendomi il mio cibo.

Neanche una parola deve essere scambiata tra noi, il suo sguardo è abbastanza.

Le sue iridi mi sommergono, lasciando solo un piccolo spazio che mi permette di sopravvivere.

e quando il mio corpo e la mia psiche sono alla sua mercé, mi sento completa.

Mi sento completa e amata, tenuta tra le sue braccia che i ricordi lontani di amici e parenti sono solo immagini sfocate nel retro della mia mente. E quando lui ha finito con me mi tiene stretta nel suo petto e mi chiedo, chi ero io prima di lui?

Niente. Nessuno.

Quando non so neanche quanto tempo fa, arrivai di fronte la sua porta bagnata dalla pioggia e sporca di terra, mangiata dalla natura, ero priva di sentimento. La mia vita era a puttane e avevo pensato che farmi due giorni di trekking in mezzo alle montagne mi avrebbe fatto bene. Ma dopo

essermi persa per otto giorni i all’interno della selva oscura delle montagne dell’ Appalachia, vidi la mia unica salvezza nella dimora malridotta alla fine di uno stradino di montagna. Era una casa completamente in legno, si vedeva che i materiali erano buoni ma era poco curata, il legno era in gran parte imbottito d’acqua e pieno di muschio, le finestre erano coperte da fogli di giornale e dal camino non emetteva fumo. Pensando che nessuno fosse in casa entrai e quando vidi del cibo e dell’acqua sul tavolo del “salotto” mi ci fiondai sopra, mangiando tutto quello che riuscivo a prendere. Ero così affamata e esausta che non senti la porta aprirsi e una figura camminare dietro di me. L’uomo che per molto tempo detestai, si prese cura di me. Mi vendo le ferite e mi dava da mangiare, e in cambio voleva solo che gli pulissi casa. Perché dovevo essere così difficile con lui? con il mio povero amato, che voleva solo qualcuno da tenere stretto la notte per sentirsi meno solo.

Lui la sera andava a dormire nel suo divano mentre io prendevo il letto, ma era così solo, e il suo mal di schiena non gli permetteva di dormire bene nel divano, per forza doveva venire a dormire nel letto con me, e io sciocca che mi dimenavo e mi arrabbiavo. Ma lui è sempre stato paziente con me. Mi ha fatto capire che io non avevo bisogno di vivere una vita piena di problemi, quando potevo soltanto rimanere a casa a pulire e preparare da mangiare per lui. Io qua non penso, sono libera da ogni preoccupazione. Quando alla fine della giornata andiamo a dormire e lui mi stringe stretta, soffocandomi tra le sue braccia, sento che ho un motivo per esistere, quello di aspettare la sera per cenare insieme, parlargli di cosa ho fatto a casa mentre lui era via e dormire insieme.

Mi ricordo il terrore che provavo quando mi guardava. Le leggende che si passano da persona a persona, sulla terribile bestia che abita il terreno dell’ Appalachia, il Wendigoon, il mutaforma; e di come guardando nei suoi occhi, pensavo che la leggenda avesse in fin dei conti un fondo di verità, un mostro abita questi boschi, un mutaforma, che si finge un umano pieno di compassione, ma che è pronto a sbranarti quando meno te lo aspetti.

La prima parte della mia vita è tutta un blur, l’unica cosa che so è che sono felice. Non importa che quando andiamo a fare una passeggiata vedo dei manifesti col mio volto appiccicati a degli alberi, perché lui le strappa e le butta via e neanche gli elicotteri che passano sopra la nostra casa che disturbano il nostro sonno perché mi stanno cercando.

Io non ricordo la mia vita precedente, ma so che qua è dove devo stare.

[mysteriousperson01012000]

I don’t care about the errors. I don’t care about any of it😂. But let’s start the story.

Chapter 1: Longlegs.

Rina was always a bit of an outsider, never quite fitting in. She constantly felt the need to be the best and worked hard to please those around her. But when she started her new job, everything changed, and she couldn’t quite figure out what the fuck was going on.

Dante started working there about a year after Rina. As her manager, their relationship initially remained strictly professional. However, Dante began to develop feelings for her. Despite Rina making it clear that she was in a relationship, Dante persisted. Conflicted, Rina tried to brush it off. *(Side note: Dante is 34, and Rina is 19.)*

Dante became someone Rina trusted deeply. She confided in him regularly, and even referred to him as her "work therapist" because of how much he listened and supported her. When Rina's relationship eventually ended, she found herself in an extremely vulnerable state. Noticing this, Dante took a shot and didn’t miss.

As much as she hated to admit it, Rina liked having Dante in her corner. Despite the age gap, she could actually see herself with him. He’s got it all—he’s sweet, loving, has a job, his own car, money, and a place of his own, right? Rina had this rule—before she could date someone, she needed to really know them. She realized that after all this time talking about herself, she barely asked him anything about his life. Dante, though, was an expert at dodging those kinds of questions.

Rina would stay later at work just to talk to him, she’d tell him stories about her growing up. The shoes and dustpans and brooms 😂. At some point in time Dante decided to slowly back away from Rina. He started making comments that made her feel like she wasn’t wanted anymore. She didn’t feel the same love and same energy that she was used to, So you know what she did ? She moved the fuck on.

Dante is Long Legs.

This is the tangled story of Rina, a journey full of twists, turns, and unexpected people. She’s caught in the middle of it all, completely clueless about what's happening. Together, we can help her piece it together, because right now, she’s fucking losing it.

[lurkinggrims]

3 true train horror stories

🚂✨ Welcome, Fellow Horror Enthusiasts! ✨👻

Get ready to embark on a bone-chilling journey through three of the creepiest train horror stories you’ll ever encounter. From the ghostly echoes of Spain’s haunted “Express of Dreams” to the eerie and abandoned train car in rural America, and the chilling disappearance in Tokyo’s subway system—these tales are sure to send shivers down your spine. 🌌💀

If you love delving into the darkest corners of the paranormal and want to stay updated on our latest eerie explorations, LIKE this post and FOLLOW our blog for more spine-tingling stories and thrilling mysteries! Your support helps us bring more content to life and keeps you in the loop with our newest adventures.

💬 Drop a comment below sharing which story creeped you out the most or if you have any chilling train tales of your own!

Thanks for joining us on this haunting journey. Stay curious and keep your lights on! 🌙🔮

1. The Ghost Train of Pioz

Introduction: Nestled in the quiet town of Pioz, Spain, lies a chilling mystery tied to its abandoned railway. In 1930, the “Express of Dreams,” a luxurious train renowned for its elegance, set off from Madrid to Barcelona, but it vanished without a trace. Despite exhaustive searches and investigations, not a single piece of evidence was found, and no survivors emerged. The incident remains one of Spain’s most perplexing and eerie disappearances.

The Legend: According to local folklore, on foggy nights, the spectral train reappears on the tracks. Eyewitnesses describe a vintage locomotive shrouded in mist, with ghostly lights flickering and a haunting whistle piercing the silence. The most disturbing reports come from those who dared to investigate the legend, only to encounter nightmarish phenomena.

The Incident: One summer night, a group of adventurous friends, captivated by the legend, decides to spend the night at the old railway line. They arrive as the sun sets, casting long shadows over the abandoned tracks and the derelict station. The air is thick with an unsettling stillness, and the old station building, overgrown with ivy and decay, exudes an aura of neglect and foreboding.

Twist 1 - The Initial Sightings: As night falls, the group hears the distant sound of a train whistle, a noise that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. Excited, they position themselves on the tracks, their flashlights piercing the darkness. Suddenly, they see faint, flickering lights in the distance—an old-fashioned train moving silently and slowly towards them. The train is bathed in an eerie glow, its headlights dim and spectral. The friends, eager to witness the ghostly train up close, move towards it, only to watch in horror as it dissolves into the dense fog, leaving behind only a chilling silence.

Twist 2 - The Unseen Presence: Determined to uncover the truth, the friends set up their equipment and explore the station. As they investigate, they notice inexplicable phenomena: their equipment malfunctions, strange cold spots appear, and a feeling of being watched permeates the air. One of the friends discovers a hidden compartment in the old station office, revealing old letters and photographs of passengers from the 1930s. The letters describe increasingly unsettling events, including eerie noises and ghostly sightings, hinting at a sinister experiment conducted by a secret society.

Twist 3 - The Revelation: Among the photographs, they find images of people who bear an uncanny resemblance to the ghostly figures they saw. The last letter details a dark experiment conducted by a secret society, which aimed to harness spiritual energy but resulted in the tragic entrapment of the passengers' souls. The revelation hits them hard, making them realize that the ghost train is not just a spectral apparition but a horrifying consequence of a failed supernatural experiment.

Climax - The Haunting: As the friends return to the tracks, they are enveloped by a thick, unnatural fog. The ghost train reappears, more menacing than before. The spectral passengers, their faces twisted in expressions of fear and agony, seem to reach out towards the friends, begging for release. The atmosphere becomes suffocating, and the friends experience an intense feeling of despair and hopelessness. One friend, separated from the group, feels a powerful, almost magnetic pull towards the tracks. As they approach, they hear the tormented cries of the trapped souls, their voices blending into a heart-wrenching chorus of sorrow.

Conclusion: The friends eventually make their way back to town, deeply shaken by their experiences. They realize that the legend of the ghost train is more than just a story—it’s a tragic reality. The encounter leaves them haunted by nightmares and an unshakable sense of dread. They vow never to return to Pioz, but the experience leaves an indelible mark on their lives, a constant reminder of the supernatural forces they encountered.

2. The Abandoned Train Car

Introduction: In a remote area of rural America stands an old, decrepit train car that has become the focal point of terrifying legends. The car, abandoned in the early 1900s, was involved in a series of mysterious disappearances. Passengers who boarded the train were never seen again, and the car was left to rot on a desolate track, becoming a local symbol of fear and mystery.

The Legend: According to local tales, the abandoned train car is haunted by the spirits of those who vanished. It is said that anyone who ventures inside will experience ghostly apparitions, unsettling noises, and an overwhelming sense of dread. The car has become notorious for its dark history and eerie reputation.

The Incident: In the 1980s, a group of thrill-seeking friends, intrigued by the stories, decides to investigate the abandoned train car. They arrive as twilight fades, the sky turning a deep, foreboding red. The car is a rusted relic, its once bright paint now faded and peeling. The windows are shattered, and the interior is covered in grime and decay.

Twist 1 - The Unsettling Discovery: Inside the car, the friends find a diary belonging to one of the missing passengers. The diary, filled with disturbing entries, describes hallucinations, feelings of being followed, and an encroaching sense of doom. The last entry is particularly chilling, detailing the passenger’s growing terror and an encounter with a malevolent presence.

Twist 2 - The Apparitions: As the friends explore further, they encounter increasingly strange phenomena. Strange noises echo through the car—scratching sounds from the walls and distant whispers that seem to come from nowhere. One friend, while taking photographs, captures eerie images of ghostly figures through the broken windows. The figures are partially transparent, with expressions of terror frozen on their faces.

Twist 3 - The Possession: One friend begins to act erratically, claiming they are being controlled by a malevolent presence. They start speaking in an unknown language and exhibit violent behavior. The group, terrified, tries to leave, but the doors to the train car refuse to open. The sense of being trapped intensifies, and the shadows around them seem to come alive, pressing in on them with an oppressive force.

Climax - The Confrontation: The possessed friend reveals that they have been receiving desperate messages from the trapped spirits, begging for help. The group performs a ritual described in the diary, hoping to release the souls. As they complete the ritual, the car fills with a blinding, otherworldly light. The spirits seem to be freed, their anguished expressions softening as they fade away. The friend who was possessed returns to normal, but the group is left emotionally and physically drained.

Conclusion: The abandoned train car remains a place of intense fear and fascination. The friends, deeply affected by their encounter, vow never to return. The experience has left them with haunting memories and a deep sense of unease. The ghostly figures and the possession they witnessed continue to be a source of nightmares and anxiety.

3. The Tokyo Ghost Train

Introduction: In Tokyo, Japan, the city’s efficient subway system conceals a dark secret. In 1995, a train bound for a remote station disappeared, and the passengers were never seen again. Despite extensive investigations, no trace of the train or its occupants was found, leaving the city in a state of shock and confusion.

The Incident: During the time the train went missing, commuters reported disturbing phenomena. Unexplained sounds, ghostly figures, and an oppressive silence permeated the subway system. Surveillance footage showed the train entering the platform, but it then abruptly cut out, and the train was never seen again.

Twist 1 - The Disappearance: Witnesses describe seeing the train’s lights flickering erratically and hearing ghostly whispers that seemed to come from the empty cars. Some reported seeing shadowy figures moving through the train windows, only to vanish when approached. The train was eventually discovered at a remote station, but it was completely empty, with no sign of the passengers or crew.

Twist 2 - The Haunting Begins: In the weeks following the disappearance, reports of ghostly occurrences in the subway system became widespread. Commuters saw ghostly apparitions and experienced sudden, unexplained chills. Some reported hearing disembodied voices and feeling a pervasive sense of being watched. An investigative team was brought in to explore these phenomena, but they found no physical evidence, only disturbing accounts from those who had witnessed the events.

Twist 3 - The Hidden History: A journalist, determined to uncover the truth, delves into the history of the subway system. They discover records of a secretive group that conducted supernatural experiments in the subway tunnels during World War II, aiming to harness spiritual energy for their own purposes. These experiments reportedly went awry, causing distortions in time and space. The journalist theorizes that the missing train and the ghostly sightings are connected to these experiments.

Climax - The Revelation: The journalist and a team of investigators conduct an overnight investigation in the subway system. They encounter terrifying phenomena: shadowy figures moving through the stations, sudden temperature drops, and unexplained electrical malfunctions. They discover hidden, sealed-off tunnels that were used during the experiments. In these tunnels, they find remnants of the experiments—strange symbols, old equipment, and artifacts that resonate with supernatural energy.

In the hidden tunnels, they encounter the apparitions of the missing passengers, trapped in a nightmar

ish loop, reliving their final moments. The spirits appear to be trying to communicate, their faces twisted in fear and sorrow. The team performs a ritual, using information from the discovered artifacts to attempt to release the trapped souls. As the ritual concludes, a blinding light fills the tunnels, and the apparitions begin to fade, their expressions softening.

Conclusion: The investigation reveals the tragic connection between the experiments and the ghostly occurrences. While the missing passengers' souls are not fully freed, the revelation brings some closure to the case. The subway system increases security and monitoring, hoping to prevent further supernatural disturbances. The journalist’s findings are published, adding a new chapter to Tokyo’s dark and mysterious history. The ghostly sightings and eerie phenomena persist, leaving the city with a lingering sense of unease and a haunting reminder of the hidden horrors beneath the surface.

These expanded and detailed versions of the stories are designed to create a gripping narrative, full of suspense and unexpected twists, perfect for a 20-minute YouTube video that keeps viewers on the edge of their seats.

[mtproductions]

The Last Light

In the small, remote town of Hollow Creek, the arrival of dusk always seemed to bring a deep, palpable silence. Sarah had recently moved into her grandmother’s old house on the edge of town, seeking a fresh start after a series of personal losses. The grand, creaky house was as much a relic as it was a refuge, filled with dusty old furniture and cobwebs that seemed to whisper secrets of the past.

One evening, as a storm approached, Sarah decided to stay in and explore the house.

read more

[harmonyhealinghub]

The Painted Door Shaina Tranquilino September 13, 2024

Nestled deep within the fog-shrouded moors of the English countryside stood Bellingham Manor, a grand yet melancholic estate that had seen better days. The once-majestic home now wore its age like a heavy cloak, its stone walls weathered and cracked, its windows grimy with years of neglect. Yet, it was not the crumbling facade that whispered of the manor’s dark past, but a single door hidden deep within its bowels—a door that had been painted over countless times but always returned.

No one in the family spoke of the door openly, though everyone knew of its existence. The tradition was passed down through generations: paint it over, and do not question why. Each year, without fail, one of the household staff was instructed to repaint the door, burying it beneath layers of thick, white paint. And each year, without fail, the door would reappear, its once-buried mahogany surface emerging like a ghost from the wall.

This eerie ritual had persisted for over a century, ever since the manor's original owner, Lord William Bellingham, first ordered the door sealed. His instructions were clear and unyielding: the door must never be opened, no matter what. He had scrawled the command in his will, sealing the fate of all who would come after him.

But tragedy followed the Bellingham family like a shadow. Each generation was marked by untimely deaths, all mysterious, all unexplained. The manor’s inhabitants died young, often found cold and lifeless in their beds, with no signs of foul play. Whispers of a curse filled the corridors, but no one dared suggest the obvious—the door was the key.

In the autumn of 1923, the last of the Bellingham's, Jonathan, returned to the manor after years abroad. A somber man in his mid-thirties, he had inherited the estate after the sudden death of his uncle, the latest victim of the family's tragic legacy. Jonathan was a man of reason, a scholar, and he had little patience for the superstitions that plagued the manor. Determined to uncover the truth, he resolved to break the cycle of fear that had bound his family for generations.

The door was his first target.

Jonathan descended into the manor’s basement, where the door was hidden behind rows of dusty crates and cobweb-covered furniture. It looked ordinary enough—solid, dark wood, the kind of door that belonged in a stately home. But as he ran his fingers over the smooth surface, a shiver ran down his spine. There was something unsettling about its presence, something that defied logic.

He retrieved a can of white paint from the storage room, just as his ancestors had done before him, and began the task of painting over the door. With each brushstroke, he felt the weight of his family’s history pressing down on him. When he finished, the door was once again concealed, nothing more than a blank space on the wall.

But the unease lingered.

That night, Jonathan dreamt of the door. In his dream, it stood before him, its surface unmarred by paint, gleaming as if freshly polished. A whisper called to him from the other side, a voice that was both familiar and foreign. It spoke of secrets, of truths hidden for too long. The door, the voice insisted, held the key to ending the family’s curse.

Jonathan awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to know what lay behind the door. Perhaps it was madness, but he could not ignore the voice.

The next day, Jonathan returned to the basement, armed with a crowbar and a lantern. The door was no longer hidden—somehow, overnight, the paint had peeled away, revealing the door in its original state. Taking a deep breath, he pried the door open, the wood groaning as if it had not been moved in centuries.

Beyond the door was a narrow staircase, leading down into the darkness. The air was cold and damp, and a faint, musty odor wafted up from below. Lantern in hand, Jonathan descended, his footsteps echoing in the silence. The stairs seemed to go on forever, spiraling downward into the earth.

Finally, he reached the bottom, where a small, stone chamber awaited him. In the centre of the room was a wooden coffin, its surface covered in strange, intricate carvings. The sight of it sent a chill through Jonathan, but he forced himself to approach.

As he drew nearer, the carvings became clearer—symbols of protection, of binding, and of something darker. Hesitating only for a moment, Jonathan reached out and touched the coffin’s lid. It was ice-cold to the touch.

He pushed the lid open.

Inside lay the skeletal remains of a man, dressed in the tattered remains of a once-fine suit. But it was not the sight of the bones that made Jonathan recoil in horror—it was the face. The skull, still mostly intact, bore a striking resemblance to his own.

A journal lay atop the bones, its leather cover cracked with age. Jonathan picked it up with trembling hands and began to read.

The journal belonged to Lord William Bellingham, the manor’s original owner. In its pages, William confessed to a terrible crime—murder. He had killed his own brother in a fit of jealous rage, sealing his body in the coffin and binding it with dark magic to prevent the spirit from seeking revenge. The door was painted over each year to keep the spell intact, to keep the restless spirit contained.

But the spell was weakening.

Jonathan’s breath caught in his throat as the truth dawned on him. The curse that plagued his family, the mysterious deaths—they were the work of the vengeful spirit, slowly breaking free from its prison.

And now, Jonathan had set it free.

A cold wind swept through the chamber, extinguishing the lantern. In the darkness, Jonathan felt a presence, something ancient and full of rage. The door slammed shut above him, sealing him in the tomb with his ancestor’s ghost.

The last of the Bellingham's was never seen again.

But the door remains, painted over each year, only to reappear, waiting for the next curious soul to set the spirit free once more.

[writing-from-the-closet]

Ghosts in the Algorithm

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction and is intended for entertainment purposes within the horror genre. It contains scenes that depict self-harm as part of the narrative to create fear and suspense. These elements are not intended to glorify, promote, or encourage self-harm or any harmful behavior. If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of self-harm or suicide, please seek…

[kooperthefox]

Mloh - character from “creepy tale” game

[aslamat]

The Ghost Ship: A Voyage into the Heart of Madness

The sea has always been an area of mystery and surprise, however now and again it can also be a supply of terror. One such story is that of the Ghost Ship, a reputedly deserted vessel that appears within the harbor, most effective to lure folks who board it in a nightmarish journey. In this weblog post, we are able to delve into the legend of the Ghost Ship, exploring its history, the eerie reports of these who've encountered it, and the possible reasons within the returned of its malevolent cause.

The Legend of the Ghost Ship: The first said sighting of the Ghost Ship dates decrease lower back to the 18th century, even as a British naval vessel encountered a mysterious supply adrift in the Atlantic. As they approached, they determined a few element unusual - the supply appeared to be shifting of its very personal accord, without a symptoms of life on board. Despite their initial hesitation, the team decided to analyze, and that is even as the nightmare commenced.

Those who have boarded the Ghost Ship have stated brilliant occurrences - doorways slamming shut on their very own, disembodied voices whispering of their ears, and an unshakeable feeling of being watched. Some have even claimed to have visible ghostly apparitions roaming the decks, their eyes black as coal, their presence chilling to the bone.

Theories Behind the Ghost Ship: So, what is probably at the back of the Ghost Ship's malevolent motive? Some agree with it's the spirit of a former captain, doomed to sail the seas for eternity, in search of revenge on the residing. Others suppose it's a manifestation of the sea itself, a bodily embodiment of the ocean's fury and energy.

One concept shows that the Ghost Ship is a vessel from every different size, a portal to a realm in which the prison recommendations of physics do no longer have a look at. According to this concept, people who board the ship are trapped in a in no way-finishing loop, reliving the identical horrors again and again.

The Psychological Explanation: Some professionals advise a more mental cause of the Ghost Ship's eerie popularity. They argue that the deliver's odd occurrences may be attributed to the electricity of notion, blended with the herbal worry of the unknown. When people board the deliver, they'll be already primed for a daunting enjoy, and their minds play tricks on them, developing the phantasm of ghostly apparitions and supernatural events.

Conclusion: The Ghost Ship remains a mystery, a enigma that keeps to fascinate and terrify individuals who dare to approach it. Whether you consider in the supernatural or the mental clarification, one element's for certain - the Ghost Ship is a reminder of the ocean's strength and our own vulnerability. So, the following time you're out at the water, be careful for the Ghost Ship, lest you find yourself trapped in its nightmarish voyage.

Note: This blog post is for informational capabilities most effective and should no longer be considered clinical or instructional writing. It is meant to be an interesting and academic piece for a popular target market.

[tales-from-a-little-witch]

Tales from the red house

The baby under the cherry tree

Part 2:

tw: child loss + sa + child abuse

I told my sister about it the next day. Everyone in the house heard the crying—even the damned neighbours. But they were used to it, I guess, unlike us.

We confronted our father, with great hesitation since he always seems so upset, when we brought it up. Of course, he denied it.

"There's no baby..."

" I don't wanna hear about this again.."

" just stop"

He'd growl at us over and over while he'd avoid eye contact.

" There was no fucking baby crying. Leave it alone......"

The more we asked questions and pushed, the more mad the old man got.

"I said to leave it the fuck alone!!"

Dad bellowed until his face turned red. It was only my mom who was able to pull the truth out of him.

"Please, just tell us the truth. All of us have heard it, even you...." Mom continued to whisper as she rubbed Dad's arm. Then, slowly, the truth began to surface. And I really, really wished it hadn’t. I desperately wished I hadn't asked, and I longed to go back in time and unhear the truth.

One of the young girls in our family had been raped...,

She had become pregnant, but sadly, she lost the baby. The family wanted to keep it a secret because they were so worried about their reputation and the church's expectations, they knew how to church treated victims rape... They knew how people would look at her..

The matriarch of the family had told her that she could not bury her baby in the church graveyard since then people would know. she wasn’t even allowed to name her baby, nobody was allowed to know it, the matriarch offered to burn the miscarried child's body in the fireplace after church the next day.

The young mama, She wanted to give her baby a proper burial, so she waited until everyone was asleep and went outside to the cherry tree. She dug through the frozen earth until she was able to create a little hole. She wrapped the baby up in her handkerchief, she used a coffee can as coffin and buried it under the cherry tree. She never gave the baby a name and didn't tell a soul. Despite the secrecy, the younger kids somehow knew what had happened. They had all been hurt by that same adult in some way, so it was easy for them to connect the dots.

We all sat at the table listening in horror and my dad, my poor father looked like he was reliving a nightmare as he spoke.

After that, the crying wasn't as frequent. It was as if the baby just wanted to be acknowledged. All it wanted was to be remembered.

I'm not sure if it was the baby's real spirit or just the echoes left behind from the pain and sorrow.

Sometimes, we would go out to the cherry tree and talk to the spot where the baby had been buried. We would talk about our lives, share stories, and leave flowers.

The crying fully stopped when we named the baby Willow, named after the giant willow tree that had been planted in the backyard so many generations ago.

I hoped that baby Willow's spirit was able to move on, or that the painful echo of its existence had been broken. Even to this day, I still hoped that baby Willow was at peace.

[helmort]

🎃 𝗘𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗖𝗮𝘁𝘀 🎃

Emily's hands trembled slightly as she stood in the dimly lit bathroom. She had recently moved into an old house, and though it had a reputation for being eerie, she had dismissed the stories as mere local gossip. She splashed water on her face, trying to calm her nerves.

As she stared into the foggy mirror, she thought she saw something move outside the window. Her heart raced as she glimpsed a shadowy figure watching her from the darkness. It was unnerving, but she reasoned it could be a curious neighbor or a trick of her imagination. Fear tightened her chest, making it difficult to breathe, but she chalked it up to the unfamiliar surroundings. She tried to push aside her unease and turned her attention back to the mirror. Then, Emily noticed that her reflection seemed distorted. Her own face in the mirror contorted into a grotesque, twisted grin. It felt as if the mirror itself had come to life. She stumbled back in shock, her pulse quickening. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the shadowy figure press against the window, their face grotesque and leering. Panic washed over her, and she was rendered voiceless and immobile by fear. The eerie tales spoke of a psychopath lurking in the shadows, abducting young women from the neighborhood.

Just as the sinister presence seemed to close in on her, two cats darted into the bathroom. These were no ordinary cats; they were flesh and blood, but they had a peculiar and comforting familiarity about them. One of them hissed at the window, while the other arched its back, fur standing on end. With a ferocity that defied nature, they lunged at the intruder, slashing and clawing with supernatural force. Emily wasted no time, fumbling for her phone to summon the police, then rushed to the window, but there was no sign of the watcher.

As the dust settled, Emily sought to offer her feline saviors some respite or a morsel of food, but they had vanished without a trace.

Days turned into weeks, and in a long-forgotten room, amid dusty relics and forgotten memories, Emily stumbled upon an aged photograph. It depicted the former owner, an elderly woman from 1984, standing beside two cats. The revelation struck her like a bolt of lightning—these were the very cats that had come to her aid. The elderly woman had once inhabited the house, and the spectral cats had been her loyal companions. The woman had passed away a decade before Emily's arrival. Now, she knew that had two unexpected ghost feline protectors by her side.

💀☠️💀☠️💀

[zariyahollow]

Indulge in the mysterious allure of love and fear this Valentine's Day with Zariya Hollow's spine-chilling 3-part special episode. Get ready to be whisked away into the haunting tales of "The Telltale Heart," performed by the captivating voice of Alexiel de Ravenswood on February 5th, followed by the eerie unraveling of "The Yellow Wallpaper," performed by the talented Suzanne Pamphile on February 10th. And last but not least, on February 14th, immerse yourself in the timeless classic, "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir." Join us as we delve into the darker side of romance, exploring love, loss, and the paranormal in our tales of terror and passion. Don't miss out on this unforgettable journey through the shadows of love. Tune in now and experience the thrill of fear and passion with Zariya Hollow. Part 1 of this episode features the vocal talents of Jack Douze, James Hoegerl, Alexiel de Ravenswood

[e-icreator23]

Someone asked for a "silly face" and it didnt go to plan

[gr8-ape]

True Scary Stories That Will Send Shivers Down Your Spine

[mtproductions]

"The Vanishing Manuscript"

"The Vanishing Manuscript"

In the quaint town of Brooksville, where secrets seemed to hide behind every corner, the arrival of a new manuscript at the local library was more than just an exciting event—it was a mystery waiting to unfold.

Read more

[genwitch]

Episode 180 "Home Invasion" | Horror 24 Hours Podcast | GenWitch