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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Historical-Plate-228 on 2024-09-15 22:51:29+00:00.

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My name is Alan. I'm fifteen and I live in a small town south of Wyoming. My Dad passed away last year and my mother has been trying to find the solution to her problems at the bottom of a bottle since his passing. She doesn't acknowledge me much but ive grown to get used to it in the last few months.

The pain in my left arm has been growing the last few days. A few weeks ago it was only a small itchy sensation in the forearm area. I paid it no mind of course, I mean who would? I was most likely stung by a mosquito or bitten by some other small bug. I would later be proven more wrong then I thought possible.

After the first week the itch had been replaced with a feeling of soreness. This was when I first started to put forward the idea that this could be more than a simple itch or bite. I pushed the idea aside. it's not like I could do anything about it. The nearest hospital is hours away so I couldn't possibly get checked out. It doesn't help that my moms car broke down a few months back. “it's just sore… nothing to worry about”.

That was until last wednesday. The soreness was a burning burning feeling. It was as if my forearm was filled with needles and each of them were scraping against the bone just hoping to make it to the center. I also noticed a small lump forming in the center of where the itch had first originated. I tried to tell my mom. Maybe she'd take me seriously and I'd be able to find some way to a clinic or hospital. However this attempt was met with an immediate “yeah yeah whatever go play outside”. So I decided to push through the pain. My Mom had a trip a few days after that and I didnt want to ruin that for her. God knows she needs it.

My mom left for her trip a few days before the incident.

A small needle-sized hole appeared on the lump. That and the lump had begun to grow. The itching and pain had become too much and I had begun to pick at the lump only slightly expanding the small hole. It was then that a small black toothpick-like line began to come from the hole…then another…and another…I froze in my tracks…spiders… I let out a scream as more spiders of all sizes began to crawl out of my arm and began to burrow into different parts of my arm. Then it hit me. they were going to turn my entire arm into a sort of nest. I panicked and walked into what used to be my dads study. I was hoping that he had left some sort of medicine or acid or I don't know anything to get these spiders out of my damn arm! I rummaged through all of his drawers and found only a bunch of books…and a gigli saw. I hesitated but was quickly snapped back to reality by the feeling of the spiders moving inside of my arm. I grabbed the gigly saw and bit onto one tip of the saw and held the other tip with my right arm as I began to move my arm back and forth. The saw line scraped into my shoulder as I continued to cut through my arm, tears coming to my eyes. Blood trickled down my side as the saw line moved through my shoulder muscle. Through the muscle as I hit the bone. I winced in pain and bit down on my shirt collar as I began to sob. My lifeless left arm fell to the ground as I began to crawl away from it holding where my arm once was. I got up and ran onto the street holding where my shoulder once was.

That leads up to today. I lay here in a hospital bed typing this out on my phone. I'm just glad it's over. The only thing that worries me is that the police had told me that they went to investigate my house and said that they found the gigli saw. However my left arm was nowhere to be found.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/No-Original890 on 2024-09-13 23:38:56+00:00.

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The first time it happened was when I was about halfway through a twelve-hour shift in my warehouse job- real draining, soul-sucking work- and I left the main packing area to go out through the back door and smoke. It's a habit I've been trying to quit for years but this job really puts me through my paces when it comes to patience and self control. I smoke to clear my head. The 'smoking area' of my job is pretty nice anyway- a nice little quiet street with dim little streetlamps and the occasional fox trotting by. I always like to stand out there and just stare into the street and try to listen to foxes.

I was standing statue-esuqe in my same spot, burning a hole into the ground with my stare and rolling a cigarette around my fingers. The smell of them made me dizzy and nauseous at this point- my exhaustion was catching up to me. A car started to creak around the corner with full beams on- as well as all of the lights inside of the car and a floodlight fixed to the top of the windshield. It was like being next to a heater with all of the warmth coming off of the light. it rolled up next to me, rumbling softly as it idled. I couldn't see who was driving, but they opened their window a sliver and started to speak in a deep, guttural croak.

"That's a terrible habit to have, you know."

I couldn't find any words to say back. It was like my brain had been wiped clean. I stood there gasping like a fish for a second, before gathering my thoughts.

"It helps whatever I have going on right now."

"Would you ever want to try to quit?"

Again, I felt my mouth clamp shut as I couldn't respond. I could feel a sharp pain impaling the back of my head. A warning.

The voice chuckled. "We all have our vices, I guess."

The bright light made me squint- like the headlights of the car seemed to be getting brighter. The driver had fully opened the window now so all of the light from the inside also streamed into my eyes. Every time I tried to look up, my eyes would snap shut- the blaring light blinding me. As I was going to put my arm over my eyes and shout at this asshole to turn their headlights off, a whisper of a voice brushed against my ear. The sharp warning pain in the back of my head turned into a full-on migraine fast. I couldn't make out what it was whispering, but it was whispering loudly something like 'pie-man' over and over again.

The voice was simultaneously surrounding me on the outside and filling the inside of my head, worming its way through my ear canals. It was a shill scream and a thunderous whisper that made me cry out, dropping my lit cigarette on to the damp concrete. There wasn't a chance I was opening my eyes at this point, my teeth gritted together as the voice had migrated from whispering to screaming in the inside of my head in a thousand shivering voices. This went on for hours. I guess the car must have moved on at this point, as the feeling of having a flashlight pressed against my eyelids left. Every nerve ending in my body crackled like a live wire and I felt myself curl inwards and keel over pathetically. After that, I don't remember much- I passed out on the wet concrete and one of my co-workers found me. He said that I was screaming in pain- wailing, convulsing and shivering whilst foaming at the mouth. He also said as he tried to reach his hand out to me I grabbed his hand and twisted his wrist so hard I broke it.

I had to take a few weeks off of work because the higher-ups were so spooked about the incident. After a few weeks of trying to remember what happened and only being able to think about the bright light and being so peculiarly drawn to the thought of it, I went back to work.

I got about half-way through my shift, again, and my co-worker asked me if I wanted to go and smoke. I went to say yes, but the words died in my mouth before it could reach my lips. I just kind of stood there gasping so my co-worker gave me a weird look and walked out to the smoking area. All I could think about was the bright light.

I don't want to assume things, but I haven't wanted to smoke ever since seeing the bright light and hearing 'pie-man' over and over in my head.

Ever since then I've tried to see the bright light again. I've tried to smoke, but now it makes me nauseous, and I stand in that same spot for hours. I'd been fired for weeks now, but I just stood in that spot for hours on end to see the bright light. I didn't care how long it took. I didn't sleep for days on end and when I did, I would wake up in agony, confused and covered in cigarette burns. This light was the best thing to ever happen to me. It was a beautiful, agonising experience- whatever had happened had changed me. I needed to see the bright light.

I'd become obsessed- I was rail thin and shivering constantly, my hands shook constantly and I slept rarely in a crumpled pile next to the spot where I saw it. I feel like I'd become a different person, like I'd split in two- and the person I'd become and the person I once was were fighting to take over me again. When I did sleep, I'd wake up with notes and signed burned into my body.

My old co-worker (who had since recovered from the broken wrist) decided that enough was enough and he let me stay at his apartment and sleep on his couch until I could 'get back on my feet'. I don't remember a lot from this time, but he says that in the middle of the night I would either wake up screaming about burning or he would have to wrestle me to the ground to stop me from leaving his apartment to go and sit in the spot again.

There is one night I could remember. The second time I saw the bright light.

There was a quiet buzzing in my head, like tv static, and chanting of the 'pie-man' name got louder and louder in my head. I could finally see the light again.

My co-worker was found with several broken bones, burns all over his chest and arms and and a snapped neck. He's seen it now as well.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Sudden-Zombie9098 on 2024-09-13 22:56:36+00:00.

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A few years ago, my friend Tim and I were looking for a new adventure. We had already explored many popular hiking and camping spots, but we wanted something different this time. We wanted to go somewhere far away from the usual places. After doing some research and talking to locals, we decided on a remote area deep in a forest that was known for being isolated and a bit mysterious.

We set out early on a crisp autumn morning. The sky was clear and blue, and we were excited about our trip. We packed our camping gear into the car and drove for hours. The road wound through beautiful scenery, but soon the landscape changed to thick, dark woods. By late afternoon, we arrived at a small parking area surrounded by towering trees. The trailhead was hard to find, covered in weeds and vines. It felt like the forest was trying to hide its secrets.

As we ventured deeper, the trees grew even taller and their branches twisted in strange shapes. The path became rough and uneven, and the forest seemed to close in around us. We hiked for hours, our excitement keeping us going despite the challenging trail. The forest was eerily quiet, with only the sound of leaves crunching underfoot breaking the silence.

As the sun began to set and shadows grew longer, we found a small clearing. It was a quiet and peaceful spot, lit by the last rays of sunlight. Ancient trees surrounded us, and the ground was covered in a thick layer of fallen leaves. A cool breeze blew through the trees, making it feel like a perfect place to set up camp. We quickly set up our tent and gathered firewood. Soon, we had a warm fire going, and we cooked our dinner. The crackling of the fire was comforting against the growing chill of the evening. We enjoyed the peacefulness of the forest and chatted about our day.

As night fell, the atmosphere began to change. The usual nighttime sounds—crickets, owls, and rustling animals—faded away, replaced by a deep, heavy silence. The temperature dropped quickly, and a thick mist began to roll in from the trees. It spread across the clearing like a living fog, curling around us and making everything look strange and blurry. We tried to shake off the growing unease. We laughed and joked, trying to distract ourselves from the eerie mist and the darkness.

But then, out of the fog, a figure appeared. He was an older man, probably in his fifties, with a rugged face and intense eyes. He introduced himself as Mr. Glenn, a park ranger who patrolled this remote area. Mr. Glenn’s sudden appearance was startling.

He warned us that this part of the forest was known for strange and frightening events and advised us to be careful. His serious tone made us uneasy, but we thought he was just trying to scare us. We had camped in many strange places before and had always managed just fine. Before leaving, Mr. Glenn gave us one last intense look and disappeared back into the mist. We watched him go, feeling a mix of curiosity and worry. The fire continued to crackle, but the sense of unease grew stronger. 

The mist thickened, wrapping around the clearing and making everything look like a ghostly blur. The air grew colder, and the silence became almost unbearable. We huddled close to the fire, trying to stay warm. The mist seemed to make everything colder and more isolating.

Then, we heard a strange noise—a low, melodic humming. At first, it was soft and almost soothing, but it quickly grew louder and more unsettling. The sound seemed to come from all directions, echoing through the mist. We looked at each other, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

The humming was soon joined by whispers—faint and barely audible at first, but growing clearer and more frightening. The voices spoke in a language we didn’t understand. They seemed to come from the mist itself, surrounding us and making us feel deeply afraid. The whispers were accompanied by a rhythmic, distant beating, like a drum.

I glanced at Tim. His face was pale, and he looked scared. “Do you hear that?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Before I could answer, the mist grew thicker and started to form shadowy figures. These figures were tall and thin, with glowing eyes that cut through the darkness. They seemed to glide through the mist, getting closer and more menacing. Fear took over. We grabbed our backpacks and tried to understand what was happening, but the shadows seemed to close in on us. The whispers grew louder, filling our heads with terror. The mist felt alive, wrapping around us and making us feel trapped.

Suddenly, Mr. Glenn’s voice cut through the chaos. “Get out of here, now!” he shouted from the edge of the clearing.

Without thinking, we grabbed our things and ran. The figures and whispers followed us, but the mist seemed to part, creating a narrow path through the forest. We stumbled through the darkness, branches scratching our faces and roots threatening to trip us. The forest felt alive with a dark energy, and the mist seemed to try to pull us back.

The shadowy figures stayed just out of sight, their presence felt but never fully seen. We pushed ourselves harder, driven by fear and adrenaline. The mist seemed to close in behind us, making every step feel like we were racing against an unseen force.

Finally, after what felt like hours, we burst out of the forest and into a small clearing where our car was parked. We jumped into the vehicle, slammed the doors shut, and drove away as fast as we could. The mist began to lift, and the whispers faded, but the fear remained.

We drove in silence, the night’s events replaying in our minds. When we finally stopped at a diner hours later, we tried to make sense of what had happened. We talked about the shadowy figures, the humming, and the whispers, but nothing seemed to fit. The experience felt like a strange, frightening dream.

The next day, still shaken and desperate for answers, we decided to find Mr. Glenn and thank him for his help. We called the local ranger station, but when we described him, the woman on the other end went silent.

“There hasn’t been a ranger named Glenn here for over twenty years,” she said quietly. “He disappeared in those woods… and was never found.”

The news hit us hard. We stared at each other in shock, realizing the terrifying truth. Whoever—or whatever—saved us that night was not a man but something much older and connected to the forest’s dark history.

We never went back to those woods. The memory of that night still haunts us, a chilling reminder of the unknown and the unexplainable. The mist, the whispers, and the shadowy figures remain a part of our shared experience, a terrifying reminder of the supernatural and the eerie mysteries that lie beyond the edge of the known world.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/WonderConscious7481 on 2024-09-16 14:13:45+00:00.

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/According-Oven-7597 on 2024-09-16 04:37:42+00:00.

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I’m getting married. The person I’m marrying owns many shops in town. My mom married my dad when she was 16. I’m already 19, so I should get married.

He’s a bit of ugly, but that’s not a problem to my family because, compared to my family, he’s wealthy, and my younger brother needs money to get married. My family tell me I’ll have three children, and live in a beautiful house, if things go well.

The only problem is, he’s not my lover.

My lover isn’t a good person, and she admits that. She think the reason is that her father isn’t a good person either. He drinks, and when he’s not drinking, he beats his wife and children.

But she is beautiful and has great ambitions. She says, "I’m going to Oxford to study." I tell her it’s impossible, that she doesn’t even know where Oxford is.

She says, "I’ll go." If people ask, we’ll say we aren’t lesbians.She once went to a school for internet addiction recovery for a year. She hated it there; it was hell. She doesn’t let me say I’m a lesbian because if I admit it, I’ll end up going there too.

"You should get married and have kids, not be with me," she told me when we first kissed.

Back then, I knew I wasn’t going to finish high school because my younger brother’s middle school fees were a huge expense. I’m not a man, and getting an education is useless compared to getting married.

Everyone says this, everyone believes this.So, we can’t not believe it either.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t believe that’s our fate, which is why she’s seen as a bad person in our little town. All I had were those months after I graduated from middle school. During that time, you can drink as much as you want and run away from home because no one cares if you go to high school or not. I used to be a good student, and that time all I want to do was study to get first place. But I didn’t want do that anymore, because three months later, I wouldn’t be able to study anymore.

So, I spent three months messing around with her. My parents didn’t care, as long as I came home every night. If I didn’t get pregnant, then there was no problem. If I did get pregnant, they could force the father to marry me,then there was no problem.

Three months later, she disappeared again.

I knew she probably went back to that school. I really don’t understand why some people would rather spend 100,000 a year to torture their child instead of addressing their own issues.

She never told me the details. Our internet wasn’t developed, so I still don’t know exactly what happened, and maybe I don’t want to. But if reincarnation exists, I just want her to be born as my daughter. My fiancé wants a son, so I don’t know if I’ll have a daughter in the end.

The next time I saw her was at the police station. The police said she was cruel because she tortured her father for three days before he died. He was electrocuted and hadn’t eaten anything for three days.

But she wanted to see me, so I came.

"You’re smarter than anyone I know, so you should understand that I had to do it."

I knew why. She used to have beautiful long hair, but it was all cut off when she went to that school. Just like how she used to love drawing, but after learning how much art classes cost per year, she could no longer draw. To her, this was the only way to be free.

I’m different. Do I care about free will? No, because caring only brings me pain.

I used to love collecting stones because they were free. The pebbles by the river were actually very special, just no one noticed. But she was the only one who talked to me about it. My fiancé doesn’t care about that. When he talks to me, it’s about his business. He doesn’t care about intangible things, like the sky or love.

Of course, I’ll always remember our kiss, but you can only kiss, not marry. We both understand that better than anyone.

"I just… I just made him experience what I went through at that school. And the electric current was only a third of what I endured. I told him if I went back there, I would die, but he didn’t listen. I guess he never experienced what I did."

I guess I’m not a good person either because I didn’t save her. I was working in a clothing store at the time. Living at home suffocated me, so I never went back. I’d sleep on a mat on the floor of the store at night. If I had gone back, we could’ve talked. I don’t know where Oxford is, and I don’t know if I could ever get there because you need to fly. I’ve never seen an airplane in my life. I don’t even know how they fly. Once, I saw a diagram of a plane in a magazine, but whether it flies vertically or horizontally, we still have no answer.

But together, we always found a way. I asked her if there was anything else she wanted, and she shook her head.

"You once said you wanted to be a writer. I think you can do it because you’re much smarter than me. I once told you to get married and have kids, but I think you don’t need that after all."

You see, I really am not a good person because I let her down. All I can do is write this .

Once, after drinking beer, she told me that when people die, they don’t go to heaven or hell. We won’t see God. We’ll just go to the stars. I said that’s something you say to trick little kids. She said no, and when the time comes, you won’t need a spacesuit because you won’t need a body anymore.

So, when I found a beautiful little stone at my doorstep, I knew it was her way of saying farewell.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/adorablechix on 2024-09-16 09:57:51+00:00.