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The original was posted on /r/hyruleengineering by /u/mykel_0717 on 2024-09-18 16:17:09+00:00.
This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Odd_Occasion4750 on 2024-09-18 17:40:51+00:00.
I don’t usually have nightmares. At least, I didn’t used to. But after last night, I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep peacefully again.
It started with the phone call. Late, around 3a.m. I was already half-asleep, the room dark except for the dim glow of my bedside clock. The phone rang, and I groggily reached for it, annoyed at whoever would be calling at this hour.
When I picked it up, there was no sound. Just silence.
“Hello?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.
Nothing.
“Who is this?” I asked, now more awake, a creeping unease starting to form in my stomach.
Still silence.
I was about to hang up when I heard it. A faint, crackling sound, like someone trying to breathe through a bad connection. Then, barely audible, a voice whispered:
“I’m inside.”
My blood ran cold. For a moment, I thought I hadn’t heard it right. But then the voice came again, clearer this time:
“I’m inside.”
I bolted upright, heart pounding, and looked around the room. The door was shut, just as I had left it before going to bed. The windows were locked. Everything seemed normal, but that voice… it was so close, like someone whispering right in my ear.
I hung up the phone and sat in the dark, straining to hear any sound in the house. Nothing. No footsteps, no creaking floorboards. Just silence.
But that didn’t stop the feeling that someone was watching me. Every instinct I had screamed that something was wrong, that I wasn’t alone.
I grabbed the nearest thing I could use as a weapon — an old baseball bat from my closet — and slowly opened my bedroom door, peeking out into the hallway. The house was pitch black, the only light coming from the streetlamps filtering through the curtains in the living room.
I stepped out, gripping the bat tightly, and crept down the hall, my heart racing with every step. The silence was suffocating, making every tiny noise sound amplified — the creak of the floor under my feet, the soft hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen.
I reached the living room, where everything seemed exactly as I’d left it. No sign of anyone, no open doors or windows. I let out a shaky breath, starting to feel a little ridiculous. Maybe it was a prank call, or my mind playing tricks on me.
That’s when I saw it.
In the reflection of the window, just behind me, was the outline of a figure. Tall, with long limbs that seemed to bend at unnatural angles. My blood froze as I watched it, unmoving, standing right behind me.
Slowly, I turned around. There was no one there.
But the reflection didn’t change.
The figure in the window was still there, standing right where I had been looking. Its head was cocked to one side, as if curious. And then, it moved. Not in the reflection, but in reality — a sudden, jerking movement that sent the blood in my veins to ice.
I swung the bat at the empty air behind me, expecting to hit something, but the bat just cut through nothing. Yet, when I looked back at the window, the figure was still there, now closer, its head tilting further, its eyes — hollow and dark — fixed on me.
Panic surged through me. I ran, stumbling back to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. I locked it, breathing heavily, pressing my ear to the wood, trying to hear if it had followed.
At first, there was silence. But then, from the other side of the door, I heard it again.
A whisper.
“I’m inside.”
This time, it wasn’t coming from the phone. It was coming from just outside the door.
I backed away, heart racing, staring at the door as it slowly creaked open on its own.
The hallway was empty. But I knew it was there, waiting, just beyond the reach of the light spilling out from my room.
Then, in the darkness, I saw them — a pair of hollow eyes, staring at me from the blackness. The figure slowly stepped forward, into the light, its twisted limbs moving in that same jerking motion I’d seen before.
I tried to scream, but no sound came out. My body was frozen in place, paralyzed by fear.
The figure stood at the threshold, its face inches from mine. Its voice was a rasp, like wind through dead leaves.
“You can’t leave,” it whispered. “I’m already inside.”
And then, everything went black.
When I woke up, it was morning. The door to my room was still closed, locked just as I’d left it. The house was quiet, sunlight streaming through the windows.
But I know what I saw. What I heard. I can still feel its presence, lurking just out of sight, waiting for nightfall.
And I know that the next time I hear it whisper, I won’t be able to wake up.
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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/SocietysMenaceCC on 2024-09-18 16:44:04+00:00.
My name is Captain James “Jim” Carter, and this is the account of Operation Black Frost. This story is not one for the faint-hearted, nor for those who seek comfort in the familiar. It’s a tale of darkness, treachery, and the cold, unforgiving grip of fear that comes from confronting the unknown.
In the winter of 1962, deep into the Cold War, I was part of a covert task force sent by the United States to infiltrate the frozen wilderness of Siberia. Our mission was to track down and eliminate a high-ranking Soviet official, Dimitri Ivanov, who was believed to be overseeing a top-secret government experiment. The nature of the experiment was unknown, but the little intelligence we had suggested it was a threat unlike anything we had encountered before.
Our team consisted of nine soldiers, each handpicked for their unique skills and unwavering resolve. There was Lieutenant John “Johnny” Rourke, my second-in-command, a man of few words but immense bravery. Sergeant William “Bill” Turner, a grizzled veteran with an encyclopedic knowledge of explosives. Corporal David “Dave” Hernandez, our communications expert, whose quick wit often lightened the mood. Private First Class Samuel “Sammy” Lee, a sharpshooter with nerves of steel. Private Gregory “Greg” Thompson, our medic, whose calm demeanor under pressure was a beacon of hope. Private Richard “Rick” Davis, a scout with an uncanny ability to navigate the harshest terrains. Private Andrew “Andy” Johnson, our engineer, capable of making or breaking anything mechanical. Finally, Private Robert “Bobby” Kim, a linguist and cryptographer, essential for deciphering Russian communications.
We were dropped into the heart of Siberia under the cover of night, our breath visible in the frigid air as we trudged through knee-deep snow. The cold was merciless, cutting through our gear and chilling us to the bone. We moved swiftly and silently, each step taking us closer to our target and deeper into the unknown.
Our journey began uneventfully, but as the days passed, an oppressive sense of dread settled over us. The forest around us seemed alive, the trees whispering secrets and shadows moving just out of sight. We had been trained to handle fear, but this was different. It was as if the very land was warning us to turn back.
On the third night, we set up camp near an abandoned village, its dilapidated buildings standing as silent witnesses to some long-forgotten tragedy. As we huddled around a small fire, the wind howling outside, Dave picked up a faint transmission on his radio. It was in Russian, and Bobby quickly translated. It was a distress signal, originating from within the village. Against our better judgment, we decided to investigate.
The village was eerily quiet, our footsteps echoing off the crumbling walls. We followed the signal to a small church at the edge of the village. The door creaked open, revealing a scene of horror. Bodies, frozen and contorted in agony, lay strewn across the floor. Their eyes were wide with terror, mouths frozen mid-scream. At the altar, a lone figure sat slumped over, clutching a radio. It was a Soviet soldier, his face twisted in fear, fingers frozen to the bone.
“What the hell happened here?” Rick muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I don’t know, but we need to get out of here,” Johnny replied, his eyes scanning the shadows.
As we turned to leave, the radio crackled to life. Static filled the room, followed by a voice, distorted and barely audible. “They are coming… the shadows…”
Before we could react, the church doors slammed shut, and the temperature plummeted. The shadows around us seemed to come alive, writhing and twisting as if possessed by some malevolent force. Panic set in, and we fired blindly into the darkness. The shadows dissipated, but not before claiming Sammy. He vanished into the darkness, his screams echoing long after he was gone.
We fled the village, our morale shattered and our numbers reduced. The forest seemed more hostile than ever, the shadows watching our every move. We pressed on, driven by duty and the need for answers.
Days turned into weeks, and our supplies dwindled. The cold was relentless, sapping our strength and will to continue. Then, we found it—a hidden facility, buried deep within the mountains. It was heavily guarded, but we were determined to complete our mission.
Under the cover of darkness, we infiltrated the facility. What we found inside was beyond comprehension. It was a laboratory, filled with strange devices and jars containing grotesque specimens. The air was thick with the stench of decay and chemicals. At the center of it all was Dimitri Ivanov, overseeing an experiment that defied all logic.
He was using the shadows themselves, harnessing their malevolent energy to create weapons of unimaginable power. The shadows were alive, feeding on fear and pain, growing stronger with each passing moment.
We attempted to sabotage the facility, but the shadows fought back. One by one, my men were taken. Bill was torn apart by unseen forces, his screams filling the air. Greg was dragged into the darkness, his fate unknown. Rick and Andy were consumed by the shadows, their bodies disappearing without a trace. Dave and Bobby fought valiantly, but they too fell to the relentless onslaught.
In the end, it was just Johnny and me. We confronted Ivanov, but he was beyond reason, consumed by the power he had unleashed. In a final act of desperation, Johnny detonated the explosives we had planted, destroying the facility and the horrors within.
I barely escaped, my body battered and broken. I wandered through the snow for days, the shadows still haunting my every step. Eventually, I was found by a Soviet patrol and taken prisoner. They never believed my story, and I spent years in a Siberian gulag, haunted by the memories of that fateful mission.
The gulag was a place of misery and despair, but it was nothing compared to the horrors I had faced in that cursed forest. The other prisoners were hardened criminals, spies, and political dissidents, but even they sensed that something was different about me. They kept their distance, whispering about the haunted American who spoke of shadows and unseen terrors.
Years passed in a blur of hard labor, starvation, and the bitter cold. The guards took pleasure in our suffering, and any sign of weakness was met with brutal punishment. I learned to keep my head down, to endure the pain and the fear. But no matter how much I tried to bury the memories, the shadows were always there, lurking at the edges of my vision, whispering in the dead of night.
One particularly harsh winter, when the cold was so intense it felt like knives slicing through our flesh, I befriended a fellow prisoner named Sergei. He was a former KGB operative, a man of few words but with eyes that spoke volumes. He had seen things, things that made my stories of shadows seem almost mundane. We formed an unspoken bond, finding solace in each other’s company amidst the relentless bleakness of the gulag.
One night, as we huddled together for warmth in our barracks, Sergei leaned in and whispered to me. “I believe you, Jim. About the shadows. I’ve seen them too.”
I stared at him, searching his eyes for any hint of deceit, but found only sincerity. “What do you mean?”
“Before I was imprisoned here, I was part of an operation similar to yours,” Sergei explained. “We were sent to investigate a remote research facility in the Ural Mountains. What we found there… it was beyond comprehension. The scientists were experimenting with something they called ‘Project Nochnoy Zver’—the Night Beast. They were trying to harness the energy of the shadows, to create weapons that could strike fear into the hearts of our enemies.”
My blood ran cold as he spoke. “What happened to your team?”
“They were all taken,” Sergei said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The shadows consumed them, one by one. I barely escaped with my life, just like you. But I was captured and thrown into this hellhole, and no one believed my story.”
As Sergei spoke, a plan began to form in my mind. If there was another facility, another project like Ivanov’s, then we had to find it. We had to stop it, once and for all. The shadows could not be allowed to spread their darkness any further.
“Sergei, we have to get out of here,” I said, my voice filled with determination. “We have to find that facility and destroy it.”
Sergei nodded, his eyes gleaming with a newfound resolve. “But how? This place is a fortress. Escape is nearly impossible.”
“We’ll find a way,” I replied. “We have to.”
The next few weeks were a blur of planning and preparation. We gathered what little resources we could, bartering with other prisoners for tools and information. It was dangerous work, and more than once we came close to being discovered by the guards. But desperation drove us forward, the knowledge that we were the only ones who could stop the shadows from spreading their terror.
Finally, the night of our escape arrived. A brutal snowstorm raged outside, providing the perfect cover for our plan. Under the guise of a routine work detail, we managed to slip away from the main camp, making our way towards the outer perimeter. The cold was intense, sapping our strength with every step, but we pressed on, driven by the knowledge that failure was not an option.
We reached the outer fence, a towering barrier of ...
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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/ConnectionFit4696 on 2024-09-18 12:06:03+00:00.
Two weeks ago, I visited my grandparents who live in the mountains. Their home is absolutely beautiful—it's a two-story house with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a charming balcony. My grandfather built it himself, which makes it even more special.
When I knocked on the door, my grandmother opened it. "Oh, my sweet patootie!" she exclaimed. I hugged her and laughed, "Grandma, stop calling me that. I'm twenty-six years old now." She smiled and said, "Nonsense, you'll always be my sweet patootie."
"Where's Grandpa?" I asked. "He's in his shed, dear," she replied. I walked out the back door into the backyard. The shed was a bit of a walk since my grandparents have two acres of land. Grandpa spaced out his shed from the house because Grandma doesn't like him smoking near the house.
I knocked on the shed door and then walked in. Sure enough, grandfather was sitting in his chair, smoking a cigar. "Grandma's going to kill you if she catches you with that thing, you know," I said, pulling up a chair beside him. "Hey, Claire," he greeted me, giving me a side hug.
"How have you been?" he asked. "I've been doing well lately. How are you and Grandma?" I replied. "Oh, we're getting by. Reaching those old ages, dear—our backs ache, our joints creak, everything hurts now," he said with a chuckle. Each laugh sent a cloud of smoke escaping his lips.
"You'll see when you get there," he added. "Is John treating you alright?" my grandfather asked. "Yes, sir. He actually proposed to me a few months ago," I said. "Did he?" Grandfather said with happiness, and I simply nodded my head yes.
"I’m so happy for you, dear. Congratulations! So, does that mean I’ll be a great-grandfather soon?" he said. "You’re already a great-grandfather," I responded with a smile, placing my hand gently on his shoulder.
"I would like to know, though, if it’s possible for you to draft a blueprint for our house. John and I want to build our own, just like you and Grandma did," I said. "I suppose I can," he replied, taking a thoughtful drag from his cigar.
"Thanks, Grandpa," I said. "I just really want to create something of our own, you know? To be able to say, 'This is ours.' I bet it feels wonderful." "Yes, it does," my grandfather replied.
"What compelled you to leave your hometown in France, move to Maryland, and build your own home to start a family? Did you also desire something for yourself?" I inquired. My grandfather's face fell slightly as he took another pull from his cigar.
"Honestly, it's about time I talked about it. I probably won't have much time left to speak on it," he said. I furrowed my brow in confusion. "What do you mean?" I asked. He took a long drag from his cigar and said, "I didn't choose to move away; I had no other choice."
"I still don't understand, Grandpa," I said. "Listen, I'm about to tell you something that defies all logic, so I want you to listen carefully and try to understand me. To this day, I have no idea what happened. All I know is that I had to get out of that town before whatever was taking over it claimed me," he said.
I was genuinely starting to feel a bit apprehensive. "Are you on any new medication?" I asked. He shook his head and took a long pull from his cigar, releasing a thick cloud of smoke. "I loved where I used to live. My old town was beautiful and tranquil."
"Everyone knew each other; life was simple. The streets were lined with flowers and fruit trees, and the sound of children's laughter filled the air while the scent of freshly baked sweets tantalized your senses," he said with a wistful smile. He closed his eyes, as if reminiscing transported him back in time.
"Sounds lovely," I said. "It was, until the day everything began to change," he replied, taking another puff of his cigar. "It started very subtly, but one by one, people began to lose their minds."
"At first, it was very minor things, like people muttering to themselves or staring off into the distance, standing there blankly. But soon, it escalated into far more disturbing behaviors."
"Mrs. Thompson was a sweet old lady, a baker who owned her own bakery in town. One night, she was found wandering the streets, screaming for help. She claimed that 'the thing' was going to get her. The police detained her, took her in, and we never saw her again."
"Mr. Jenkins, the town's grocer, began collecting dead birds and hanging them around his yard as some sort of grotesque decorations. The madness spread like wildfire. Some people would laugh continuously for hours, while others would scream until they tore their vocal cords. Even then, they still tried to scream."
"The sound of their screams with torn vocal cords will forever haunt me. It was a harrowing cacophony of wailing, almost inhuman cries. Raspy, guttural noises filled with an unbearable pain and desperation." He paused, taking a slow, deliberate pull from his cigar before speaking again, this time in a quieter, more reflective tone.
"Some would cry hysterically, and I must admit, I couldn't help but cry too at times. This was my beloved town, and in the blink of an eye, it was all destroyed by what? We still don't know. It was as if the very air carried an infectious disease that deteriorated the brain."
He took a long pause and puffed his cigar again. I sat in silence, absorbing the gravity of his words. "The worst part was, they began taking their own lives. At first, it was just a few, but then it became a daily occurrence. Every time I stepped outside, I feared for my life as I stumbled over the bodies of those who had tragically succumbed to their dramatic fate."
“I recall vividly the myriad of doctors and scientists, all clad in protective suits, who were resolute in their quest to unravel the mystery of what was transpiring. It seemed they were more preoccupied with the prestige of discovering the cause than with genuinely aiding the afflicted.”
“Despite the countless tests and exhaustive studies they conducted, they remained baffled, unable to discern the nature of the affliction, let alone devise a cure. They began referring to it as the new plague, a term that only served to amplify the collective hysteria.”
“I endeavored to remain steadfast, to be a pillar of strength for my town. Yet, as the days passed, an insidious fear took root within me. I found myself unable to sleep, unable to eat, paralyzed by the terror that I would be the next to fall victim.”
“The day I discovered my best friend, John, lying lifeless in his home, I realized I couldn't remain any longer. It shattered my heart to leave, to abandon the place that held a lifetime of memories, but I had no other option," my grandfather said, drawing deeply from his cigar.
"I gathered my belongings and fled to the mountains, desperately hoping to escape whatever malevolent force was consuming our town. As I glanced back one final time, I saw the once vibrant community reduced to a ghostly shadow of its former self."
"The laughter and joy had been replaced by chaos and sorrow. It was the hardest decision I've ever made, but I knew I had to save myself. In hindsight, it was the best choice I ever made," he said.
"I met your grandmother, got married, had your father, and now I have you. None of that would have been possible if I had stayed in that town," my grandfather said, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and gratitude.
I was almost on the verge of tears, overwhelmed by the unimaginable horrors my grandfather had endured. I stood up and embraced him, expressing how much I loved him. I ended up staying for a week with my grandparents before returning home.
I now hold an even deeper respect for my grandfather. I can't fathom enduring what he described. It's even more frightening to think that we still don't know what it was that consumed his old town or if it's still lurking out there, waiting to infect a new group of people.
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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Dangerous-Parfait-28 on 2024-09-18 10:06:31+00:00.
I grew up in a small, old town in Maine that most people wouldn’t recognize by name. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows each other, where the streets are quiet after dark, and where the past lingers like a heavy fog that never quite clears. I moved away years ago, but I still find myself thinking about that town, especially at night when sleep evades me. There’s something about the darkness that brings back the memories—the kind you try to forget but can never really shake.
When I was a kid, the town had this strange, almost otherworldly atmosphere. It was hard to put into words, but there was a feeling, a deep unease, that we all sensed but never talked about. The adults called it superstition, the kind of thing that happens in every small town. But we kids knew better. We heard the stories, the whispers in the schoolyard, the tales passed down from older siblings. It was always about children going missing, about kids who would wander off and never come back.
It started with the little things. Toys left on porches would disappear, bikes abandoned on the sidewalk would be gone the next morning, even when the chains were still locked. Parents would write it off as pranks or the work of some petty thief. But the kids knew better. We always did.
The first time I really understood the fear was when a boy from my class, Jamie, vanished. We were in third grade, and Jamie was the kind of kid everyone liked. Always laughing, always with a joke on his lips. He was the first to dare anyone to go into the sewers, a place we all avoided. He said he’d heard voices down there, that something was calling to him. None of us believed him, not really, but we didn’t want to test it either.
One day, Jamie didn’t show up for school. It wasn’t unusual at first—kids get sick or go on trips without much notice. But when a week passed and Jamie still wasn’t back, the adults started to worry. They searched the town, the woods, even drained part of the river. Nothing. No one talked about the sewers, though. Not even when someone found his sneaker by the storm drain near the old paper mill, the one with the faded sign and the rusted gates. The cops said it probably washed down from somewhere, that it didn’t mean anything. But we knew.
After Jamie, there were more. A girl from the next street over, twins who lived near the library, a little boy from the outskirts who’d just started kindergarten. One by one, they vanished, and the town grew quieter, like the life had been sucked out of it. The laughter of children faded, replaced by the whispers of the adults, who were now too scared to let us out of their sight. But it didn’t matter. When someone—or something—wanted you, it would find you.
I remember one night, lying in bed, listening to the rain patter against my window. I was half-asleep when I heard it—a voice, soft and melodic, like a lullaby. It was coming from outside, from the direction of the street. I crept to the window and peeked through the curtains. There was nothing there, just the empty street, the old streetlamp flickering like it always did. But the voice didn’t stop. It called my name, sweet and inviting, like it was promising something wonderful. I wanted to go to it, to step out into the rain and follow that voice wherever it led. But I didn’t. I don’t know why, but something in me knew better. I climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over my head, trying to block out the sound. Eventually, I fell asleep, and when I woke up, it was morning.
Years passed, and the disappearances slowed, then stopped altogether. But the town was never the same. Some families moved away, unable to bear the weight of the losses. Others stayed, trying to forget, to pretend like nothing had happened. But those of us who grew up there, who lived through it, we never forgot. We never could.
Now, as an adult, I avoid small towns. I stay away from old storm drains and abandoned buildings, and I never, ever listen to strange voices in the night. But every now and then, when I’m lying in bed, just on the edge of sleep, I hear that lullaby again. And I remember.
I remember the missing children, the darkened streets, and the town that kept its secrets close, buried deep beneath the surface, waiting for the day when it might need to feed again.
Sometimes, I wonder if anyone else remembers, if the story still lingers in the minds of those who left. But I don’t ask. Because some things are better left forgotten. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself when the night comes creeping in.
And then there are the balloons. Red ones. I used to see them sometimes, floating by the riverbank or caught in the branches of a tree. I always thought they were just left over from some birthday party, but now, looking back, I’m not so sure. I still see them in my dreams, bright and crimson, drifting silently down empty streets. It’s strange, how something so innocent can fill you with such dread.
About a week ago, I got a letter in the mail. No return address, just my name written in shaky, almost childlike handwriting. Inside, there was a single photograph—grainy, black and white, like it was taken decades ago. It was a picture of a group of kids standing in front of the old library in my hometown, smiling at the camera. But there was something wrong. In the background, just behind the children, there was a figure. A tall, thin man in a suit, his face obscured by shadow. And at his feet, a red balloon.
My heart pounded as I stared at the photo, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin. I hadn’t thought about that place in years, and now it was coming back to haunt me. The letter didn’t include a note or an explanation—just that single, haunting image. I wanted to throw it away, to pretend I never saw it, but something stopped me. Instead, I placed it in a drawer and tried to forget about it.
But I couldn’t.
Two nights ago, I heard the voice again. The same soft, melodic lullaby, drifting through the air like it had years ago. This time, though, it wasn’t outside my window. It was in my house, just outside my bedroom door. I froze, too terrified to move, as the voice called my name, over and over, growing louder with each repetition.
When I finally mustered the courage to open the door, there was nothing there. Just the dark, empty hallway. But on the floor, right outside my bedroom, was a red balloon, bobbing slightly as if someone had just let it go.
I knew then that it wasn’t over, that whatever haunted that town hadn’t forgotten me. It had found me again, and this time, it wouldn’t let go.
Last night, I made a decision. I’m going back. Back to that town, back to where it all started. I don’t know what I’ll find, but I can’t keep running. Whatever this thing is, it’s coming for me, and if I’m going to stop it, I need to confront it.
I booked a ticket for the first flight out tomorrow morning. I haven’t told anyone where I’m going. I’m not sure I’ll come back. But there’s one thing I know for certain: I’m not the only one it’s after. And if I don’t do something, if I don’t end this, it will keep hunting, keep feeding, until there’s nothing left.
So, if you’re reading this, be careful. Pay attention to the signs—the missing children, the voices, the balloons. And if you ever hear a lullaby in the night, don’t listen. Whatever you do, don’t follow it.
Because once it finds you, it never lets go
This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/According-Oven-7597 on 2024-09-18 06:31:18+00:00.
My husband and I haven't been back to his hometown for a few years, mainly because he has only few relatives alive.
Another reason is that they have very strange beliefs, you know, that kind of local gods that don't be known out of the town.
He once wanted to put a statue of the god in our new house, because his mom asked so,but I didn't agree. That's no use,i said. After all, he is a househusband, the main source of income for the family is me, and I am an atheist,and I pay for the house mortgage. So he just give up.
When I married him, I knew he didn't like to work. But he was so gentle and took good care of me at that time. And…too good looking.When I said I was infertile, he hugged me and said it must be difficult.
For a long time, I thought, if I wasn't infertile, and he wouldn be willing to adopt, and we would have a perfect family.
He said that this year has been the fifth year since his last went back, and we have to go back. I only went back his hometown for a few days in the early days of our marriage and his parents's funeral,and besides that he went back alone. But since he asked, I think it's okay to go back, after all, we haven't had a family traveled this year.
I asked him to buy some gifts, and he said, but dear, I don't have money. I wanted to say that I just gave him a few thousand yuan three days ago as food expenses for this month, and there were no large expenses in the past two days. But in the end I gave up. After all, if I asked him, he would only say that I was stingy and never gave him enough money.
I drove for a few days back to his hometown and gave several relatives the new down jackets and cigarette. Winter is coming, and down jackets are very practical.
They told me that I came back in time because they were about to offer sacrifices to the god activity. I asked them is that mean I needed to get up early to offer sacrifices to the gods, and they said no. But I still woke up very early the next day because I kept dreaming that I was in a foggy forest and I just couldn't get out.
They said I could be the first to the Poe divination. For fun, I asked if I would have a child. It gave me three same result,one of the blocks has its flat side facing up and the other has its flat side facing down, and the village chief was very happy. She told me that it meant that the gods agreed very much.
I didn't understand. I couldn't get pregnant. I knew it when I was in high school. The probability was only 2%. "So, he agreed? About me having a child."
"It's her, you can't call the god him." Her expression suddenly became serious. I apologized for my rashness and helped cook for the whole morning.
At noon, the whole village had a meal together. The food was delicious, but I suddenly vomited. I thought it might be too tired. Fortunately, they were very tolerant and let me leave early to take a nap.
The village chief gave me a bowl of porridge. She told me that it was normal and that every woman would feel this way,when you having a new life. I didn't tell her about my infertility. My husband and I had tried for two years but to no avail.
What made me angry was that my husband didn't come back that day. He was playing poker. When he came back, he apologized to me, but I was still very angry because he is drunk. I slept well that night and dreamed of a little girl. I braided her hair and blew bubbles for her。
The next day, they told me that the statue had to be delivered by my husband and me. I didn't ask why. The village chief told me that the mountain was called the God's territory in their dialect, and there was a temple on the top of the mountain.
As for the statue, it was made by a male carpenter a long time ago. Thry need to take the statue up there and only take it down the mountain the same time in next year.
I asked her what those nameless tablets were. She said that there used to be very cruel customs in the nearby villages. The more miserable the death of the baby girl, the more likely the next child would be a boy, so those nameless tablets were for them. I touched my belly and thought of the little girl in the dream again. I felt a chill.
It was foggy on the mountain that day, even though the weather forecast was for a sunny day.
After walking for two hours without reaching the destination, I realized that we might be lost, but my husband said not to worry, as he had been playing in the mountains since he was born. It wasn't until he took me to a cliff that I felt something was wrong. I was still holding the statue because he thought it was too heavy, and the last thing I heard him say was, "Go to hell."
I tried to get up, but my pelvis must have been broken. I tried to stay awake, but it was difficult. At this moment, I seemed to be back in my dream and saw the little girl. She looked really small.
"Thank you for helping us, now...it's my turn to help you." The voice didn't seem to come from her throat, but from dozens of little girls at the same time.
I asked her what I should do, and she said I needed to keep walking, keep walking, and I couldn't let go of her hand or ask questions during the process. Don't look back.
So I take her hand, and I heard a voice from behind that I still don't know how to describe, but my intuition told me that I couldn't look back, otherwise I would die, and she said, "Don't be afraid."
I don't know how long I walked, I was panting, and when I felt that my legs could no longer move another meter, I saw the light.
"See you on the other side." She waved at me, and I vaguely saw a woman more than two meters tall standing behind the little girl, but seeing her was not scary, but reassuring.
When I woke up, I found myself in the hospital, and the village chief was there. There were also a few policemen, who told me that my husband was dead.
Police said since he owed a gambling debt of 100,000 and bought me an insurance policy (but he was stupid enough to fill in the wrong name,He wrote me as the beneficiary), they thought that he was trying to murder me, so when he pushed me off the cliff, he also slipped and fell down. The statue was broken, and he seemed to be broken more than the statue.
I was shocked by the news and wanted to get up, but I couldn't get up because of the pain. Then they said that my pelvis was broken, and it was a miracle that the kid was still alive. I asked, what kid?
They said that because we hadn't returned for three hours, the village chief had someone look for us. Finally, she was the first to find me under the cliff.
When they found me, my lower body was bleeding. When they rushed me to the hospital, they found that I was already eight months pregnant. Logically, the baby should have suffocated to death or miscarried, but she cried very loudly after the doctor pulled her out. It was just because she was born prematurely that she was very thin. After checking the baby's health, they confirmed that it was actually a healthy baby.
I asked, can I hold the child? Doctor said of course, so I held my daughter, and she was as soft and warm as I imagined countless times in my dream
I just remembered that I never had a chance to ask the little girl her name, but maybe she just didn't have a name.
Because this matter was really bizarre, I received at least half a month of invitations for news reports. I chose a newspaper that was most reliable in name lists and said the name of the god, thanking her for blessing me, and finally attracted the research of folklore experts.
As for my husband, oh my ex-husband, I really wanted him to be dead,but he is already dead, and I can't let him dead again.
I asked the village chief what should I do of my ex husband's dead body. She thought that although my husband had done many evil things, he was a child of the village after all, so he should be buried in the village anyway.
We wanted to bury him casually near the temple on the mountain, but unfortunately it rained heavily the day after my accident, which triggered a small mudslide, destroyed the temple, and also destroyed the old tombstones of several craftsmen in the village cemetery.
The women in the village were discussing how to rebuild it. After all, it was a lot of money, and they didn't have time to care where a scumbag was buried. The village chief said she would take care of it, and I didn't have to care.
When I left the village with my parents, I asked the village chief if she felt ok, and she said she had a premonition that everything already happened in her dream. She also said that I was welcome to come back next year.
I took away a portrait of the god and a small wood carving of her.
Later I heard that he was hastily buried in the cemetery near the village.
At that time, I had moved back to my parents' house because I couldn't walk at least for a few months and my daughter was too young. I found an easy job at home, the salary was a little lower then my old job, but I didn't worry about the income, after all, although he was a scumbag, he left me millions of insurance money.
This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/aided14 on 2024-09-17 21:38:54+00:00.
Does anyone remember in the 80s of the famous Delphine Resort? Everyone travelled up there to spend the summer, leaving their homes after months of work and agony then being able to lay in the thick hot sun for hours on end or dip their feet in the cool water. I was told relentlessly by my friends that i had to find a job that summer, no more playing video games at the arcade or eating conchas until i pass out — i had to find a job and perhaps date someone who was not my bed.
I remember staying over at my grandparents house in Catalonia, Spain for the summer or longer even before i could travel back up to the US, that was when my grandma looked upon websites looking for a part time job for a sixteen year old who only had experience in small swimming and archery classes. She laughed in relief when she stumbled upon the page of the Delphine Resort, blue waves in the background with palm trees on either side of the large text that took me in a trance of beauty. The page was filled with pictures of children and people with massive smiles on their faces, then you can select what you are looking for. My grandma quickly selected the page to do with applying for a job at the resort.
I then found myself driving with my grandad sifting through colourful houses and painted sidewalks, then after thirty minutes, my eyes laid upon the vast green bushes and palm trees that stood up in strong positions against the soft wind that tickled my cheeks as i walked out the car, my grandad descending with it. The sound of children yelling and splashing in the water caught my attention as a warm smile crept up. I began walking towards the reception, my eyes catching the pink and yellow glow that shone into the glass windows.
“How may i help you?” A soft voice came from the lady behind the reception desk, her light blue eyes shining through mine, and her silk brown hair on either side of her shoulders.
“Hey there i am here to start my job as the lifeguard at the Delphine Resort..” I said in a huskily voice as my gaze was transfixed on the large paintings of old buildings and history books stacked on the coloured bookshelves that were evenly placed in order of appearance.
“Oh yes would you please state your name for me?” the woman asked kindly, her eyes drifting back into mine as i cleared my throat and replied.
“Jairo Ruiz”
“Lovely to meet you Jairo, would you kindly take a seat while i message Bernard on your arrival..!” the lady lowered her eyes back onto the old computer as i nodded and took a seat near the bookshelf of the reception room.
It was within seconds when my eyes lingered upon the dark haired man that stood in front of me. The man painted a large smile on his face as he lead me out of the reception and into the entrance of the resort.
I was in awe of the place, the miniature rocks in the grassy path and blue and green slides that looped and turned, buried into the water. I found myself gasping at the food bars with thick wooden roofs and pink, white drinks bubbling under the shade. Laughter resonated with every turn i made, my shoes clapping on every beat of the music from the indoor pools, the air was so sweet and indulging that i wouldn’t mind living in this place.
“Now my friend, you will be in Section A, and I’ll be in Section B.” Bernard said with a smile, his hazel eyes glistening with the orange glow that crept with the lapping of waves.
The resort had two sections, Orca and Dolphin.
Me and Bernard were placed on the other side of the resort, Orca. We primarily looked after the families that had hotels in the Orca region.
The large pool had many children and adults jumping and splashing in the pool, it was my duty on Section A to watch the front part of the pool whilst Bernard watches the back part, ensuring no child ever drowned underneath floats whilst the front part was the most important thing to look after.
The ruffle sound of the radio caught my attention as i quickly pressed it against my ear.
“Hey newbie how you doing so far..?” Bernard chimed in, as he quickly gave me a wave and a giggle through the radio.
“All good over here, how you keeping up..?” I replied back as i gave a brief thumps up.
“Alright, a kid just shitted in his towel and the mother is cleaning it up but yeah, all good!” Bernard chuckled as i did the same, my eyes fixated on the man climbing up the small steps of the slide.
“Hey.. Bernard.. i have a question, how long have you been doing this job..?” i asked, my words slipping up in my mouth as i looked across from the clear water and the children laughing on the side of the pool
“Been a while, but chico.. you’ll get the hang of it, you’ve passed all the examinations and tests to be a lifeguard.. and now you’re in!” Bernard replied as a beeping noise overcame his radio, then we stopped talking for a while.
My eyes stared up at the blue slide, as an unsettling feeling crept up through my body.
The large blue slide stretched out across the massive pool in loops, similar to the green slide — however, you couldn’t see inside. I grabbed my safety equipment and carefully walked over to Bernard who was sitting further away from me.
“Hey dude what’s up—“
“ALEJANDRA!!… ROSETTA..?!” a loud call came from a family who looked panicked and confused as they walked and ran up and down the resort.
Bernard’s face changed from polite to cold as he rushed over to the parents.
“What is wrong..? Tell me what is going on..?” Bernard reassured the family as the mother came forward, her hands shaking as she called out her daughters.
“A-Alejandra and Rosetta.. we cannot find them…we—“
“Where was the last time you saw Alejandra and Rosetta..?” I quickly asked the mother as her eyes widened in pure shock as she pointed behind me.
At this point, people started to gather around us, parents desperately ordered their children out from the pool as i gathered my equipment and went right into the water, whilst Bernard and other staff tried calming the crowd.
I swam towards the blue slide, and placed a foot upon the wooden ladder, my hands grasping each part of the slide as i made my to the very top. Looking down it was dark and not a place to slide down, but that didn’t bother me.
My heart began beating more rapidly, each beat filled my body with a cold, shivering sensation that something was very wrong here.
I slowly began entering the slide, one torch in my hand and the other gripping the slide so i don’t fall right down. It was really felt like a good hour had passed as i gradually held the slide and went deep down, in hopes of finding the two girls.
That was when i heard it.
A small cry that echoed down from where i was. It sounded like a man talking, but in a stern order as if they were demanding something — then followed a sobbing cry which was like two girls at once.
I motioned myself down, my heart was now pounding and screaming as the cries became more louder and desperate.
i slid.
And as i went down, so did the screaming and crying. i then spotted a glimpse of light, and i found myself in the water again, i managed to pull myself together and look around to see if i could spot the girls.
Bernard alerted me to his direction as i climbed out the pool and rushed over to him.
“W-we have a problem here—“
“Did you see the girls, Jairo…?” Bernard asked, his eyes narrowing as he pulled me to the side, away from the worried families.
“I-erm… no i-i didn’t..” I stuttered as a hint of urgency surged into Bernard’s face.
He then turned around and ordered the family of the two missing daughters to come forward.
Soon enough everyone started to look for the children. In the hallways of the villa, in the bars and restaurants, the water and slides.
One of the girls was missing a flower clip, so that was enough for all of us to search far and wide.
But there was no sight of them.
The belongings of the family that had lost their children were scattered in their villas. Bernard told me that they were devoting every minute that they had to find Alejandra and Rosetta — however, they had to return back to their country and i haven’t heard anything from them since.
It had only been a month before we had a conversation with a woman whose child had disappeared from the Orca restaurant. I was in disbelief trying to reason with myself about the entire situation, grandma begged me to look for another job but i couldn’t just bag it up and leave, i felt that there was something more to this story.
Delphine Resort still had many people entering as if nothing happened, many children played in the pool where Alejandra and Rosetta were last seen, many adults ate at the fancy restaurant where a three year old had disappeared.
I was on my last shift of the week. The only thing i had to do now was close up the pool area, and check if everything was safe before i could head off home. My eyelids constantly dragged themselves down as i scooped the weed rake from the corner of the slide and took the weeds out from the pool. My hands moved up and down as i caught the group of weeds and dipped them into the bucket — i took the last scoop, gathering the weeds in my rake as i noticed something odd lapping in the water.
Dumping the last remaining weeds in the bucket, i stretched the rake out as it dipped itself into the water.
I then tried grabbing the item with the rake which motioned itself with the water.
I stepped back. Trepidation consumed the remaining thoughts that i...
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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/MrKringle111 on 2024-09-17 21:24:03+00:00.
There once came a time in my life when I had sincerely thought why do we do this? Why do we work? Why do we get up in the morning? Why do we do it at all? This thought was brief but was something I had genuinely considered. I have been trying not to think about this for quite some time but I think I’m ready to talk about the time I was indoctrinated into a cult and how I lost my former self. My name is Aron and this is my story.
I think it was around the late fall of 2017. I had just turned 18 and I lived with my parents in the middle of the desert. We were nestled between big mountains just off of a 40-mile dirt road. Or more easily the base of the famous Crown King mountain in AZ. I lived a pretty secluded life and didn’t get to meet many people other than those who lived in the old mining town at the top of Crown King and one friend from Phoenix. I was of course homeschooled and was never a fan of the the desert.
It was so quiet and to be honest very boring. For newcomers, the endless trails and roads that lead to large canyons and old dams were fun and exciting. For me, however, I had seen almost everything within a hundred-mile radius of our 18-acre property. To me, nothing was new or exciting. Speaking of our property it was ancient and if you hadn’t lived there your whole life you’d assume it was an abandoned building only seen by people who go off-roading and exploring. But in fact, we lived there.
The house is at least a hundred years old and has been passed down from buyer to buyer. The most recent owner being a rich snob who trashed the property for years before he went missing in the late 90s before his family sold the property to us. My dad was always a hermit who never liked the city and its people. I for one longed for interactions with others and because I never really did I was always seen as pretty introverted. But I can happily say that most of my days were made better by my sister Trinity who lived in Phoenix and would stop by from time to time to say hi. She was always fun to hang around and made boring uneventful days much more interesting.
She would always bring a gaming console of some kind for us to play for hours, something I’d never get to do otherwise, and she would bring her and her friends to play airsoft battles and occasionally go shoot real guns. It was always a blast. However, my story really begins on December 23, 2017.
On that day I had planned to take Trin to the top of Crown King Mountain seeing as she had never been before. After she had heard of the ghost town that was up there she agreed to go with me on the journey. She had mentioned how she wanted to go through the main road that everyone takes to the mining town but I being the annoying brother that I was said we should take the back roads which would take significantly longer. She finally with enough convincing agreed once more and not long after we were off.
The journey there and back would take at least 8 to 9 hours depending on the weather and the roads themselves. This road up the mountain was very much considered dangerous and hard to move through. In other words, if you didn’t have the right vehicle you would most certainly get stuck. But I was not worried. I had been up that mountain at least five or six times. And three of which I went by myself or just with friends. And the weather was perfect, well, as perfect as Arizona weather can be. What I’m saying is that Trin and I had nothing to worry about... or so we thought. It was around two hours into our journey when something made me do something very stupid. And my following actions would lead us through a path of misery from here on out. There are many spots that you have to go through that are known as a wash. It is basically just a large river bed made by rain. This particular wash we were moving through was smooth and was nothing compared to what was ahead. However, it was smushed between two cliff sides effectively making it a small canyon in a way.
Then we were stopped. The wash was blocked. Large boulders blocked our path. I had never come across anything like it before and seeing it was a little strange for me. From here I had two options. Turn around and go back or... go around and make my own path. I think you know what I did. I got out and hiked up the steep cliff and saw that if I just bush-waked it for about half a mile I could get on another wash that would connect back to the main wash. Now everyone who takes this road to the top of Crown King knows that getting stuck is a pretty good possibility. And I knew this as well. I had packed two universal walkie-talkies. And these were no cheap things either. They could reach up to 100-plus miles away. Trin had also been talking to our parents throughout the trip so I was pretty sure we’d be fine.
I told Trinity the plan and she immediately hated the idea. In the end, I said I was the driver and that we would be fine. She was not convinced. To make her feel a little better I said if I felt like I was gonna get stuck even a little I would turn around. Thinking back it seems my words to her were also not very convincing seeing as I had just ignored her distress already. We started making our way through. At first, it was not too bad. We or rather I would have to get out occasionally to move some large rocks but overall it was nothing I couldn’t handle. That was until close to the middle of this half-mile trek the sound of rocks crumbling and falling from the left cliffside, the one we were closest to, could be heard. I stop and look up just in time to see a rock the size of a small car tumble down the mountain before hitting our Can-Am and sending us rolling. We rolled for several seconds before our vehicle stopped on its side.
I sat there in silence and shock for what seemed like 5 whole minutes before looking to my side and seeing an unconscious Trinity. She was bleeding from her forehead but more concerningly she had a 3-foot Mesquite tree branch sticking out of her stomach. I instantly unbuckled myself before the pain made me notice my own injuries. I looked down to see my foot was in the floor. I carefully pulled it out of the floorboard to see that my shoe was gone and my big toe was also gone. And it was bleeding profusely. I can only assume that my foot being exposed to the outside of the Can-Am while it was rolling ripped my toe clean off. Of course, I wasn’t thinking this at that moment.
I leaned over and unbuckled Trin but before I did I heard a quick whistle. I stopped, staying quiet for just a moment, and started listening. When I didn’t hear anything I continued to unbuckle Trin and then open her door. Of course, I wasn’t thinking and forgot that the vehicle was on its side so not long after unbuckling trin did her body slink onto me. I still managed to open her door though I was pretty much pinned by her body now.
As I struggled to get her body off I heard another whistle This one more distinct. It was a person. In a desperate state of panic, I started yelling for help. Asking for anyone to help me. Not long after I yelled I heard the crunching footsteps on gravel approaching ever closer. And expecting to see a fellow rider I saw much worse. Someone climbed the vehicle until I saw two hands on the passenger door. But when they pulled themselves up I saw not a person. But the face of a donkey. And as their head blocked the sun I could see fully the half-naked man wearing the head of a donkey.
I should mention that donkeys are pretty invasive from where I lived. They were everywhere. And You could always hear them braying into the night and even throughout the day. My mind at that moment was in such disbelief that I just stared with a little bit of fear but mostly confusion in my eyes. This... person finally spoke.
“Do you want my help?” The voice was muffled by the head of the donkey and was a little raspy but sounded so casual my eyes narrowed and my brows lowered as to show even more confusion than before. But before I could even think of anything to say he speaks again. “We can help. You just got to commit. Do you commit?” I was so thrown back that I couldn’t help but say aloud “What?” He then simply shrugs his shoulders and begins to turn to hop down off the Can-Am. In the worry that he was simply about to leave I quickly blurt out “Yes, Yes I need help!” He stops and turns back around slowly. He looks down and says once again “Do you commit?” I respond, “Commit to what?” He stares at me for a moment as he does the jaw of the donkey falls open revealing that it is missing almost all of its teeth. Looking through I could also see the bottom half of the man’s face.
And I could see he was grinning. I look at him now with a bit of fear visibly showing on my face. “Can you take us back to the bottom of the mountain? He responds “Sure can. Can you commit?” I looked around at my situation for a moment thinking carefully about what I was going to say. In hindsight, I wasn’t thinking at all and was actually acting out of fear and desperation. But I thought I had no other option... so I nodded. I can still remember looking through the dark mouth of the dead-eyed donkey and seeing his grin grow into a toothy smile. I knew almost immediately that I had made the wrong choice.
But I didn’t have much time to think at all before four other people, all women, hopped up onto the vehicle. These women were wearing much more clothes covering their whole body. Though clothes might not h...
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The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/SpookyUnit69420a on 2024-09-18 21:14:39+00:00.
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The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/Straight_Age8562 on 2024-09-18 19:37:04+00:00.
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The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/PetalPetal7 on 2024-09-18 19:34:41+00:00.