Horror stories

Give my some good copy-pasta ^^

I fucked your mom.

>>2
*gasps and recoils*

HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, CEO AND FOUNDER OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. THIS MORNING I MADE A VISIT TO YOUR DECREPIT OLD GRANDMOTHER AT THE RETIREMENT HOME - I COULD SMELL HER EXCITEMENT AT MY ARRIVAL EMENATING FROM HER DEPENDS FROM HALFWAY DOWN THE HALL. I WIPED THE SHIT OFF THAT WRINKLY ASS WITH THE CHRISTMAS CARD YOU SENT HER BEFORE I IMPLANTED MY SEXUAL SQUID THREE FEET UP HER COLON. HER WHEELCHAIR COLLAPSED UNDER THE RELENTLESS POUNDING OF MY POWERFUL ANAL INTRUDER. SHE CLIMAXED WITH SUCH FEROCITY THAT MRS. PETERSON THREE DOORS DOWN WENT INTO CARDIAC ARREST AND OLD MAN JENKINS CAME OUT OF HIS COMA. SHE LAPPED UP THE REMNANTS OF MY BOYBUTTER OFF THE LINOLEUM AND USED IT TO TAKE A WEEK'S WORTH OF MEDS. I GUARANTEE IT.

You know the phrase, "you arent buying the beer, you're just renting it"? Have you ever been to a brewery? It smells TERRIBLE. Not unlike ammonia.

>>5
oh.. shit. are you saying that.. no way, that's nasty!


:(

Beer is people

That reminds me of that one chapter in Tomie... ugh.

/B/


"On the internet, there is a message board. Occasionally, someone will post a thread asking for generally creepy stories. These threads are usually long and contain a lot of entertaining reading.

However, occasionally someone will enter the thread and post only an 8-digit number that if read, will give you a specific recurring nightmare for three nights.

In this nightmare, you visited in your sleep by a man with a very curious smile. During these visits, he performs unspeakable acts. And repeats a phrase over and over again. This phrase is different each night.

At the end of these three nights, the events of one of the stories posted in the thread will happen to you.

It is said also that if you dial this 8-digit number into a payphone at exactly 2:30 AM, a voice with no discernable gender will answer and tell you all of the great secrets of eternity."



this one's  pretty interesting

>>7
What do you mean?

I could tell you but that would spoil the ending of the movie

>>9
please link horror thread

    On a warm Sunday in the middle of summer, I was walking on the sidewalk downtown amidst the usual crowds.  Tourists and locals alike congested the roadsides, some trying to get through and some obstructing their way in their leisure.  I walked towards the drug store, not really needing to go but allowing myself to be herded by the flow of the majority.
The hubbub of hundreds of voices conversing was silenced when a squeal of tortured wheels reached my ears and forced me to turn to look at the road, where a car was drifting without control towards an oncoming van.  The metal of both vehicles crunched and screamed as they made contact, and the smaller car that had been turning was almost completely destroyed, its front collapsed like a smashed soda can.  The tinkling of broken glass hitting road lasted for seconds afterwards, the van’s window having burst.  My first instinct was to rush over to the cars, since there was little traffic, and when I reached the large white van I flung the door open to find
    No one.
    The entire vehicle was empty, except for the seats and some trash.  No passenger had been sent careering into the back of the car.  No one had gotten out of the other side, which was convex and deformed due to the collision.  An ominous hole without explanation of being had been punched through the driver’s window.  I blanched, feeling my face whiten with horrified wonder.  I backed away and walked around to the side of the van in which the oncoming car had lodged itself.  Without even needing to open the door, I could see that it was devoid of life or a corpse as well.  The roof had crunched down like a crude trap in the wilderness, unquestionably killing any passenger that found themselves underneath it.
    I turned around, sweating now from the adrenaline of seeing the crash and confusion.  Now that I took a moment to take in my surroundings, I realized something eldritch was at hand.
    There were no other cars to be seen in any direction from the four-way intersection I stood in the middle of.  No pedestrians on either sidewalk, when minutes before the crash there had been dozens.  The wind, which had been blowing my long strands of hair about on my face and neck and had plastered my clothes on one side of my body with its force, had completely died down.  No sounds reached my ears besides the thumping of my heart and, I thought, the blood in my ear rushing to create the illusion of noise.
    Perplexed and beginning to be worried, I stood in the road for a few moments more.  The sun still beat down on me, but was significantly less warming than it had been.  I felt my skin, and it was burning hot, fervid.  I chalked it up to excitement and forgot about it.  What I had to do was find another person.
    I strode along the cement walkway in a rush, looking in glass doors of business and boutiques.  The cafes of Decesso Way were destitute and barren.  The usual haunts of homeless supplicants were voids as well.  I even went so far as to check the Episcopalian church, in which the devout of this town were wont to be even into the late Sunday nights.  Empty.
    A whole town, empty.
    It was inconceivable.  It couldn’t be true.
    How could it be true?
    I pondered this, on the verge of tears of nonsense, and sat down on a wooden bench on Holle Street to rest after the winded search for others.  I let a few drops past, hoping someone would pop up and see them so I could be embarrassed, but no such fortune came to me.
    Without warning, a welcome gust of wind came, blowing trash along with it.  Among the litter was a fold of the local paper, which caught my eye with a vivid color photo.  I snagged it from the breeze and choked on my own breath as I comprehended the words.
    “Van Driver Killed In Fatal Crash”

>>1 "It is said also that if you dial this 8-digit number into a payphone at exactly 2:30 AM, a voice with no discernable gender will answer and tell you all of the great secrets of eternity.""

why this makes me curious.

Consider this: A pack of wild Niggers.
Savage, slavering Niggers nearing your white home. Trampling your white lawn. Raping your white daughter.
And you can't do shit since they're savages. The Nigger leader grabs your wife and fucks her with his shaman stick.
The primal Niggers finally dominate your household. They watch barbaric shows on TV and you are forced to be their slave.
Such is the downfall of White Man.

>walking to ASDA
>some ninjas jump me
>realise they're not ninjas, they're Muslims
>Muslim leader speaks
>"Oi you fucking cunt, get out of our country. Britain is for the British."
>point out I'm a British white Anglo-Saxon
>"Nah, you're not British mate. You're an Angle. Get out of our fucking country."
>they beat me up while praising Allah
>Semite in the corner of the street laughs to himself and says, "Just as planned."

>>15
"white lawn"?  WTF

B-b-b-b-boobies!

    A fetid corpse that smelled of meal and droppings of maggots sat under some sawdust in the barn.  Cleon Bartlett poked it with a stick, releasing more of its stench with each jab.  Horrible amounts of bugs slithered out from the holes he made easily in the skin.  He thrust with the branch harder than before, and it lodged in the torso of the human carcass.  He turned to Dill and grinned.
    “Y’ever saw a thing so gross?”
    Dill Rodgers shook his head, sick to his stomach due to the noxious smell.  “I ‘spose I’ve seen a couple possums in a worse way.  Who do you reckon it is?”
    “Dunno,” Gale said with a plain shrug.  “Could be some outta-towner who did it bad with a local gal.”
    “Nah, he got them muddy overalls on, like a farmer.  I reckon he’s local, him.”
    “Well look at you, all ‘telligent and shit.”  Gale spit a rhubarb-stained loogie by the body.  “Think we oughtta tell the police?”
    “Maybe we could wait for some kinda reward or somethin’, we can get our names in the paper.”
    “Dill, you are one evil piece of shit.”
    “I’m just saying, this bastard’s death don’t have to be no waste!  It’d be a loss.”
    “You may just be right.  Hey, come on.”  Gale approached the corpse that lay face down on the hay floor.
    “The hell’re you doing, dumbass?  Don’t go near it.”
    “Don’t be a pussy, let’s just turn the sorry sonbitch over and get a better look.”
    Dill looked out the door, ajar, to the shaded property of Gale’s family’s ranch.  The fruit trees he saw cast shadows upon the dusty trail and land that played tricks on his eyes; he saw devils and faeries dancing hand in hand in the shadows made by leaves and branches.  He shook his head.  A disturbing omen, his intelligent inner mind intoned.  His books of dark magic from the gypsy woman who knew his name before he’d ever told her warned of such things.
    “Hey.  Hey shit-for-brains!” Gale chided.  “You gonna stand there, or come and help?”
    Dill jumped back to the present.  He rushed over to Gale, crouched over the body like a feral scavenger, unwisely forgetting all he had just contemplated.  Together, they grasped the right side of the corpse and pulled with all their strength backwards.  Gale fell onto his posterior as the task was completed.  He stood, brushing his death-layered hands off on his denim shorts.  Dill just gaped.
    The body of Mr. Earl Bartlett, aged 43 ATD (At Time of Death), was found on June 20th, with the effects of decay having emaciated his entire body.  Forensic reports published on June 21st indicate, however unbelievably, that the death of Mr. Bartlett had occurred on May 18th of the previous year.  How the body could have gone unnoticed for so long, especially with the stench replete on the whole of the Bartlett property, is impossible to comprehend.
    Additionally, the autopsy report resulted in far more disturbing information.  The flesh of minors Cleon Savannah Bartlett, aged 16, and Dill Dixie Rodgers, also 16, were found partially decomposed inside the decay-torn stomach of Mr. Earl Bartlett.  The decomposition of the flesh seems to have occurred as a result of time, not of stomach acids, of which there was none found inside Mr. Earl Bartlett.  Even more disturbing is the fact that carbon dating performed on the disembodied flesh of the two teens in Mr. Bartlett’s stomach discovered that their deaths occurred long after the original death of Mr. Bartlett in 2011.  There is no explanation for this.  Some of the men who were told in the precinct theorized that it could have been a sort of satanic ritual in which the two teens found the decaying remains and removed parts of their own bodies and forced it into the corpse’s gastrointestinal system.  This hypothesis has not been agreed upon.
    The deaths of the teens occurred several weeks ago on April 25th.  Again, the stench was not noticed, though upon entering the barn in which the bodies were found the smell was almost unbearable.  Mrs. Anna Mae Bartlett, wife of Mr. Earl Bartlett and mother of Cleon S. Bartlett, is quoted as saying, “There weren’t no smell, I couldnt [...] I ain’t got nothing to hide [...] He [...] The barn should [...] I don’t know what to do with myself.  I can’t go [...] I don’t go in that barn cause I got work in town! [...] I can’t do this” (sic) (frequent pauses attributed to crying).  After her short interview, Mrs. Anna Mae Bartlett left in her Honda Accord, still bereft.  Her current location is unknown.
    So far, any explanation offered has gaping holes.  There is no reason why a human body, left to decay in heat that averages over 80°F for over a year, should not make a smell that would draw immediate attention.  An expert team of entomologists has been contacted by the federal organization that took over the case from local authorities to investigate “abnormalities” (official statement) regarding the insects found at the scene.  As of yet, there has been no official statement.

As we speak 4 Bubbas are building a hydrogen bomb out of a septic tank in their toolshed. They're going to drive it through a major US city and detonate. They will chant, "Toma sota balcu" before detonation. The shockwave will kill an estiminated 2.5 million people. The fallout will kill 10 times that. Now that you have read their chant they will drive through your town and detonate the bomb unless you repost this to 10 other threads in 5 minutes. If you do this they will not harm you. Your kindness will be rewarded