sixpenceee:

From reddit r/shortscarystories

Link to story (x)

My daughter woke me around 11:50 last night. My wife and I had picked her up from her friend Sally’s birthday party, brought her home, and put her to bed. My wife went into the bedroom to read while I fell asleep watching the Braves game.
"Daddy," she whispered, tugging my shirt sleeve. "Guess how old I’m going to be next month."
"I don’t know, beauty," I said as I slipped on my glasses. "How old?"
She smiled and held up four fingers.
It is 7:30 now. My wife and I have been up with her for almost 8 hours. She still refuses to tell us where she got them.

Link to the story (x)

If you’re reading this note, I’m sorry. I assume you’re in the same situation as me—that smug bastard drugged you and dumped you in these catacombs, with only a candle to find your way out.

I don’t know how many people he’s done this to, but there have probably been a lot. He wouldn’t spend so much time on it otherwise, would he? He told me the catacombs are a maze, and he’s set traps and deadfalls at every turn. But he promised there’s one safe way out, if I’m lucky enough to guess the correct path.

I’m not lucky. I’m just an art student, here on holiday. There’s no way I’m getting out alive. But I want someone to. I want revenge.

I’m sure you do, too, so let’s help each other. I still have my sketchbook and pencils. Before each turn, I’m going to leave them behind for the next person, writing down which way I went. If I survive to another passageway, I’ll come back and leave a page like this one. If I don’t, then it’s up to the next person to carry on and go the opposite direction.

Eventually, if we keep leaving breadcrumbs, one of us will escape. Get to the police and find that bastard. Do it for those who didn’t make it.

My name is Jeff. I went left here.

Reading the note by candlelight you feel a glimmer of hope, until you realize you’re reading from the sketchbook itself. Jeff never returned to tear out the page, and you’re the first person here since him.

You look to your right, where the dark maze awaits.

  • HE STOOD AGAINST MY WINDOW by reddit user sabethook

Link to story (x)

I don’t know why I looked up, but when I did I saw him there. He stood against my window. His forehead rested against the glass, and his eyes were still and light and he smiled a lipstick-red, cartoonish grin. And he just stood there in the window. My wife was upstairs sleeping, my son was in his crib and I couldn’t move I froze and watched him looking past me through the glass.

Oh, please no. His smile never moved but he put a hand up and slid it down the glass, watching me. With matted hair and yellow skin and face through the window.

I couldn’t do anything. I just stayed there, frozen, feet still in the bushes I was pruning, looking into my home. He stood against my window.

Link to story (x)

Any day now, she’ll say her first words.

My wife and I have been playfully betting on what she’ll say first - ‘Mama’ or ‘Daddy.’ I can hear my wife crooning over and over while she feeds her ‘Mama’s little girl! Mama loves you so much!’ Sometimes, she’s not even subtle about it - ‘Say ‘mama!’ Come on! ‘Mama!”
I don’t mind it though. I still believe I’ll win. When we first brought her home, she would scream and cry and nothing my wife would say could calm her down, but I knew just how to hold her to help her fall asleep. Our daughter was a daddy’s girl - my wife needed all the handicaps she could get.
I sit our daughter in her chair and my wife and I begin babbling like chickens - ‘Mama!’ ‘Daddy!’ ‘Say Mama!’ ‘Who’s daddy’s baby?’
I pull the gag from our little girl’s mouth.
"P-please… what do you want from me? Please let me go…"
My wife’s smile falls from her face. With a heavy heart, I put the gag back in as the girl starts to scream. I take her back to the room, locking her in and shutting the lights out. When I return, I find my wife crying.
"It’s ok, honey," I tell her, "The next one will be better. I promise."

Link to story (x)

2.5 children is the average. I don’t know why she’s screaming.

Link to story (x)

“Have you seen my son?” the woman frantically asked the old lady across the street.

“No, sorry dear” the old woman replied.

“Have you seen my son?” the woman asked the local police officer, more terrified this time

“No, I’m sorry ma’am, but we’ll search right away” the officer responded while taking out his radio, trying not to look at the woman’s sorrowful eyes.

“Please…please tell me my son is in there” asked the woman to a friend of hers, which happens to live right next to her house.

“I’m really sorry Clarice, we haven’t seen him” the mother replied.

The woman searched everywhere, ran through every part of the street, screaming, “Where is my son”.She was crying, pulling her hair out of despair. Her neighbors, out of pity, helped her in her search

“JIMMY, JIMMY! WHERE ARE YOU! PLEASE COME OUT!”

Starting that day, from 10 in the morning til 8 in the evening, the woman would leave her house, looking like trash. She looked like a risen corpse; pale skin, frizzy hair, and her body growing ever skinnier. She screamed at every part of the town, “HAVE YOU SEEN MY SON?”

Alas at the second week of her search, everyone must have thought that she’d already gone crazy.

She went to the local police department again…

“Have you seen my son?”

The officer in charge left out a deep sigh, “I’m sorry ma’am”

The mother walked home, looking depressed. But as soon as she closed her front door, a smile painted itself across her face.

With a smirk, the woman whispered to herself.“I guess I hid the body well”

Link to story (x)

“Mom, can you watch for bugs while I pee?” The little boy asked.

“Sure hun.” His mom said.

They were hiking on top of a mountain. The mom was depressed, although she did not understand why. The little boy stood near the edge of the cliff. He started peeing.

The mom was suddenly gripped by a cold vision of terror ahead of them: a single mom, alone, with no good prospects. So depressed. Hopeless.

The boy. His back towards her. So small. So innocent. So helpless. He zipped up his zipper and glanced upwards to see his mom’s face above him. A sad look on her face.

“I’m sorry and I love you.” She pushes him off the cliff.

Ten years pass. The mom is now married. Well to do. She looks on from the balcony, out into the prosperous suburb she now lives in. Her new son, young and small, calls out from behind her.

“Hey mom, what you doing?” The kid says, in that tiny, sing-song voice.

“Nothing…” She says. She looks out. It’s so beautiful. She sees her son. She feels her heart break a little. He looks so… fragile. A memory resurfaces, of another son so long ago, but she pushes it away. That was then. This was now. Now she is happy. There’s always hope for new beginnings.

“Would you like to sit here?” She asks, patting at the balcony, smiling. What a beautiful boy she has.

The kid just looks at her and smiles, the sadness noticeable.

“No mom.”

“Come on, you’ll see into your friend’s houses.”

“No mom.”

“Are you sure? It’s fun.”

“No mom. I’m afraid you’ll push me off again.”

You can read more of these stories at r/shortscarystories

Here’s a masterpost of other creepy stories

absinthecocktail:

steampunktendencies:

OctoChef cake by Avalon Cakes http://goo.gl/TLh7Zn

vyvyan25
absinthecocktail:

steampunktendencies:

OctoChef cake by Avalon Cakes http://goo.gl/TLh7Zn

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absinthecocktail:

steampunktendencies:

OctoChef cake by Avalon Cakes http://goo.gl/TLh7Zn

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absinthecocktail:

steampunktendencies:

OctoChef cake by Avalon Cakes http://goo.gl/TLh7Zn

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absinthecocktail:

steampunktendencies:

OctoChef cake by Avalon Cakes http://goo.gl/TLh7Zn

vyvyan25

congenitalprogramming:

indynerdgirl:

madam-cj-says-relax:

patrickat:

kaiju3:

The American Hogwarts Houses

Look at your school of witchcraft and wizardry. Now look at mine. Now yours. Now back to mine. Sadly, your school is not mine, but if you all got off your broomsticks and started using a real sorcerer’s deodorant, it could smell like mine. Abracadabra! I’m a horse.

Good. Night. I’m done.

I CAN’T STOP LAUGHING

oh y god noo they have ???? knockoff hogwarts house deodorant???

OF ALL THINGS

and it’s not even the actual house names?!?

also ‘Bearglove’ sounds like a taboo gay porn kink

(via mangomonkeyboy)

odins-one-eyed-fuck:

courtneywinston:

holdontowhatyoueat:

courtneywinston:

#1 reason why not to install a cat door in your bedroom

there is a story behind this and I don’t think I want to hear it.

Actually there’s a person behind it but yes

i just shaved my legs wanna feel

(via adiostoreadumb)

ruberevocomiclove:

Dark Avengers ruberevocomiclove:

Dark Avengers ruberevocomiclove:

Dark Avengers ruberevocomiclove:

Dark Avengers ruberevocomiclove:

Dark Avengers ruberevocomiclove:

Dark Avengers ruberevocomiclove:

Dark Avengers
dorkly:

What You’re Thinking With Every Mobile Gaming Location
For more comics, go to Dorkly.com! dorkly:

What You’re Thinking With Every Mobile Gaming Location
For more comics, go to Dorkly.com! dorkly:

What You’re Thinking With Every Mobile Gaming Location
For more comics, go to Dorkly.com! dorkly:

What You’re Thinking With Every Mobile Gaming Location
For more comics, go to Dorkly.com! dorkly:

What You’re Thinking With Every Mobile Gaming Location
For more comics, go to Dorkly.com!

paintraincomic:

"It’s not defamation! It’s a parody of the consumer mindset!!!" ~ Me being waterboarded(with the unique flavour of Dr Pepper brand soda beverages!)

holographic-plants:

✿
returntothestars:

It’s like when Windows does this, but in real life.

returntothestars:

It’s like when Windows does this, but in real life.

image

(via covered-in-ovaries)

dimetrodons:

mitzi—may:

mrbigode:

Cats do not like fruits

this is my favorite gif set.

dimetrodons:

mitzi—may:

mrbigode:

Cats do not like fruits

this is my favorite gif set.

dimetrodons:

mitzi—may:

mrbigode:

Cats do not like fruits

this is my favorite gif set.

dimetrodons:

mitzi—may:

mrbigode:

Cats do not like fruits

this is my favorite gif set.

dimetrodons:

mitzi—may:

mrbigode:

Cats do not like fruits

this is my favorite gif set.

(via beepish)

dcuniversepresents:

Variant covers illustrated by Eisner-winning artist Darwyn Cooke
dcuniversepresents:

Variant covers illustrated by Eisner-winning artist Darwyn Cooke
dcuniversepresents:

Variant covers illustrated by Eisner-winning artist Darwyn Cooke
dcuniversepresents:

Variant covers illustrated by Eisner-winning artist Darwyn Cooke
dcuniversepresents:

Variant covers illustrated by Eisner-winning artist Darwyn Cooke
dcuniversepresents:

Variant covers illustrated by Eisner-winning artist Darwyn Cooke
dcuniversepresents:

Variant covers illustrated by Eisner-winning artist Darwyn Cooke
dcuniversepresents:

Variant covers illustrated by Eisner-winning artist Darwyn Cooke
dcuniversepresents:

Variant covers illustrated by Eisner-winning artist Darwyn Cooke
dcuniversepresents:

Variant covers illustrated by Eisner-winning artist Darwyn Cooke

dcuniversepresents:

Variant covers illustrated by Eisner-winning artist Darwyn Cooke

(via comic-view)

just-raowolf:

edenwolfie:

my year 8 students had to do a budgeting activity pretending they were living out of home on $2000 a month and I find this written on there help I can’t fucking breathe

We had to do this and I was partnered with a boy whose parents are a scientist and a doctor. My family spawned the book: Top Drawer Villain - autobiography of a London criminal.

First of all, we had to choose where we would shop. He wanted to buy from Booths. “We are not buying from Booths," I snapped. "Get on Asda’s website right now." His face froze.

A-Asda?" he whispered. "But that’s where… The Lower Classes shop.

This was a good start.

We then had to decide on a menu. We started on breakfast. “Toast," he said.

Toast," I said. "Great. Look, Asda has its own wholemeal—

Warburton’s thick-slice white bread. Nothing else. With olive oil.

You WHAT?" I choked. "You have olive oil, on your toast, in the morning?

He frowned. “Who doesn’t?

Okay," I said, "but what will the children eat?

He gaped at me. “The children? We have children?

We continued. All was well until it came to what we would have on our sandwiches. We even sorted out the children’s lunch - they, of course, would get free school meals. “Yes," he agreed; "if we can’t even afford Bertolli then they can get school meals on the government.

He asked what dressing we should have on our ham. “Nuh-uh," I said. "Can’t have ham. I’m vegetarian.

But I’m not.

Yes, but we’re married and we can only afford one sandwich filler so it has to be vege—

We’re married!?

Of course we’re married! You’re devout Christian - how do you think I convinced you to have children?

He shook his head, frowning. “Well I want ham. You’ll have to put back the washing powder - I need ham on my sandwiches.

We continued. Finally, it was dinner. “Okay," he said, clearly thinking hard; "for dinner, we can have… Chicken nuggets and… Beans?

Vegetarian.

Vegetarian nuggets then. And beans.

We need vegetables. The children have to have a balanced diet.

You and your children!" he yelled, and the whole class looked around.

They’re your children too!" I screamed back.

He leapt to his feet, shaking his head and looking distraught. “I don’t believe it - I don’t believe you! I wouldn’t have your children!

Please," I cried, standing up also. "Don’t—

I want a divorce!

And he walked out of the classroom.

The teacher stood up and stared between me and the door through which he had vanished. “I’m sorry," I whispered, "but we couldn’t do it any more. There were just too many differences - I can’t live with someone who thinks champagne is a budget.

I can’t wait to see this guy when he gets to university.

(via covered-in-ovaries)