Ghastly Imagery and Videos from Around the Web
Thank you, Matthew Eaton, for your story submission!
"The Dead Hour"
by Matthew Eaton
You know I have always loved the paranormal. I used to watch YouTube videos on how to do séances to summon spirits, or how to talk to them through Ouija boards. I loved it all, that is, until we started trying it on our own. I bought a Ouija board online to see if the whole thing was legitimate or not, and I waited and waited until it finally came. I was like a little kid opening a Christmas present. I opened it up and there it was, the board with the pointer. I was so excited! I followed all the instructions exactly, from putting a candle behind me to having more than one person with you - I did it all. We waited until 3am exactly like it said, and did the small prayer at the start to make sure to ward off evil spirits. We began our session, my friends complaining the whole time about how it wouldn’t work, or someone would try to push the pointer during the session.
At that time I felt something brush beside me. It made me have goose bumps and it felt like the temperature dropped. I just ignored it; the window was slightly opened in my room and so I got up and closed it, when I remembered you’re not supposed to leave at any time during the session. After a while of asking dumb questions and not getting a response, I started to ask a question. Just then, all of the candles blew out. I knew I had closed the windows and there were no fans on, so what could have done that? Hands still on the Ouija board, I saw my friends face - she looked uneasy, almost if she had seen something and didn’t want to tell us. The pointer moved, and everyone looked shocked that it had; it began spelling something out. I had my friend write it down, as she was the designated recorder for the whole session. She wrote down what it said and repeated it aloud.
"YOU LEFT US"
There was a loud crash heard downstairs.
We were all positive now that we were contacting a ghost, and I was the first to say something aloud.
At this point we were all standing up - when the unthinkable happened: the Ouija board moved all on its own, aggressively sliding back and forth on the board. My friend was writing down what it said, and she showed us the results – just the words “YOU LEFT US” over and over, over and over. The board started to float; I fell down from the genuine shock, my heart racing. There was a scream like nothing I had ever heard in my life, an ear piercing, blood curdling scream that came from the direction of the board. The board flew in my direction, almost hitting me in the head.
I heard a demonic voice, and it chuckled. I was drenched in sweat from fear, my knees almost wanting to give in. I stood up to go look for my friends in the dark and I heard a scream come from downstairs in the kitchen. One of my friends, standing in front of a body, blood pooled on the floor and crying loudly, the body was my other friends. I yelled and fell to my knees and screamed at the top of my lungs, and then broke down in tears, his throat was slit and there were several knife wounds throughout his whole body. I knew we had to get out now.
I managed to pick myself up and grabbed my friend; I had to force her away from the corpse, still crying. I went to go to the front door and I noticed the door wasn’t there. Gone, the door was gone. I was filled with fear. I ran upstairs to go down the hallway when I noticed my friend wasn’t holding my hand anymore. She was gone and I heard a loud crash from the living room downstairs. I ran as fast as I could downstairs to the living room and saw it. There was a knife floating in the air, chopping into my friend who was on the couch. Blood was now drenching the couch, splattering the walls. She was gurgling, screaming, trying to fight the attacker off, but I was again frozen in fear watching all of this happen; her voice becoming weaker as the attacker continued to stab her over and over, her throat already slit. I could see him now, the apparition. His eyes were hollow, and his face was severely deformed, his head looked like it had been smashed in, and he was wearing a tattered white shirt and torn up brown pants. His hands were soaked in blood, and I screamed at him as loud as I could. He just stared at me with his hollow eyes and walked forward and disappeared, I screamed and fell to my knees.
Both of my friends are dead.
All manner of thoughts filled my head, when I felt something.
It was sticking out of my chest, and then it disappeared; a searing pain went through my body as the wound began to bleed, and then I felt it again, again, until it reached my throat, a fiery hot pain. I grabbed at my throat seeing blood trickling down my hands and all down my shirt to the ground.
I fell flat slowly fading from reality, hearing the cackle over and over, until finally I faded away.
Police Report from March 12, 2012
Today, three bodies were found at the Brair residence, multiple stab wounds covering the bodies along with a slashed throat on everybody, the words you left us were found written in blood on the wall in the living room. The murder weapon was not recovered but appears to be a knife or a blade of some kind. The murderer has not been found.
Thank you, Micah, for your recent story submission!
by: Micah Rodney
There’s a small village out in Alabama called Saint’s Glen. You won’t find it on any map, at least not since 1965. But you can still find the remnants of the town. If you follow the river southwest of Thomasville, you’ll find it, somewhere in the woods between Jackson and the state line. The highways never ran through this town, and most of the wood from the buildings came from the nearby trees. It was a small commune for a Christian sect – or cult as most people would call it – led by a firebrand preacher called Pastor Norton, though most of his following simply called him “the Pastor”.
Most of the buildings have long since been destroyed by the rapidly regrowing forest, but there’s one building that remained almost completely untouched, and that’s the Pastor’s church. Most of the people who used to live in Saint’s Glen have either died or been committed to psychiatric institutions. I was able to find one woman, who was only a little girl at the time, to tell me what happened the day the town fell apart. Her name is Mary, and she is a middle-aged woman now, in relatively good mental health, but who is not long for this world. She does not mind my questioning, in fact she seems to welcome it. She says that she must tell me her story, before it is lost forever.
It was in 1964 on a foggy Sunday in the middle of June. The congregation had gathered together inside the church. She begins to describe the church to me, but I stop her and show her the photographs I have of the old building. She gasps at the sight of them and refuses to look, except to confirm that I have the right building. Two lined rows of pews fill the hallway, and on a risen platform is a podium and an old metal washtub used to perform baptisms. Behind the podium was a wooden cross, and two large stone tablets bearing the Ten Commandments.
She refuses to continue until I put the photographs away, so I slide them into my briefcase and she resumes her story. Pastor Norton had filled the tub for a baptism, but no baptism was due. Every member of the community had already been baptized. Except for Mary. The Pastor smiled and said that she would be baptized at the end of the sermon and their “family” would be complete.
Just then the Pastor noticed a man sitting in the back row on the left side, only a few pews behind Mary. He was wearing a suit, but it was torn and dirty. His hair was matted and beaten and there appeared to be dirt running all through it. His face and hands were equally filthy. The Pastor looked down on this man and shouted.
“You do not belong in here until you wash that filth from your body and dress appropriately in the eyes of our Lord!”
The man said nothing in return, but stood up and walked out of the chapel. The pastor continued his sermon, but made sure to throw in a comment about how our bodies are temples and that we must treat them as such, especially when entering a house of the lord.
The congregants sang A Mighty Fortress Is Our God and then the Pastor continued onto his next lecture, this time speaking about the decadence of society and how the knowledge of man was foolishness unto God.
And then the man appeared again, same battered suit, same dirty face and hair. This time he was sitting about halfway up the left side pew, directly behind Mary. She could smell the dirt and detritis, and when she looked into his eyes, she noticed they were somehow empty, as though all the color had gone from them. He did not look at her, but kept staring intently up at the Pastor.
The Pastor again took notice of the man, and stopped his sermon once more.
“Did I not tell you, to clean yourself up! This is a church, child! A house of God!”
Again the man said nothing, but turned away and left the chapel. The congregation sang Nothing But The Blood and gathered for communion. Mary smelt that stench of the earth again, and noticed that standing a few pews in front of her was the same man. He had still not cleaned himself, and when the Pastor stopped by his pew to deliver the wine, he shouted.
“Have you a need to cleanse yourself, sinner!?” The Pastor screamed. “Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it holy, and this I say you have forgotten!”
The man said nothing, but he did not move this time.
“Are you deaf, son? Mute? Did you not understand that we are a gathering of the Lord’s people?”
The man said nothing and remained seated.
“What is it then? Do you want to be baptized?”
The man nodded.
“Very well then,” The Pastor sighed. “We will baptize young Mary first then we’ll baptize you.”
The man put his hand on the Pastor’s wrist and shook his head. The Pastor grew increasingly nervous as the man raised his free hand and pointed to the steel tub.
“V-very well. We’ll start with you,” the Pastor said, lifting the man up. They both walked to the edge of the tub.
The congregation began to sing Amazing Grace as the tub was filled with water from a garden hose. The man stepped into the tub and took the Pastor’s hand.
“Do you accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior?!” The Pastor shouted.
The man nodded.
“Do you accept his commandments?” The Pastor shouted.
The man nodded.
“Do you feel the weight of your sin?” The Pastor shouted.
And then, the man spoke in a raspy, hollow voice. “Do you?”
In a swift motion he grabbed the Pastor around by his neck and drug him down into the tub. A few members rush up to help their pastor, but when they got on the platform and looked down into the tub, all that remained in side was the water.
Mary pauses and looks around the room nervously. She explains that after the man came to visit that Sunday, some of the congregants broke into the Pastor’s house. They found a pair of his boots and a coat that were still covered in the same dirt that had covered the man, as well as a recently used shovel. They also noticed that the bumper of the man’s car was dented, and covered in blood, though he’d tried to scrub most of it off and had hidden his car under a tarp.
It didn’t take long to figure out what must have happened. On one of his trips into the city to buy some supplies he must have hit a traveler on the road. Rather than get the police involved, he simply buried the man himself out in the woods and tried to pretend as though nothing had happened. It could have only been a few days before the incident, given the physical evidence.
At that point the people had no choice but to call the police. They found the man’s body after a few days of searching. He was wearing the same suit and had the same hollow, lifeless eyes as the man who’d come to visit them that Sunday. Only his body was soaking wet.
After that event the town started to fall apart, and all the members of the Pastor’s church began to disappear one-by-one. A few died during their move, and others were found out in the woods a few weeks later. The ones that did survive were now mad, with the exception of Mary. She is convinced that because she was not baptized, she was spared from the curse.
We conclude our visit. I start to draw out the photographs again to study them further and Mary hastily flees from the room. I study the picture of the wash tub used for the baptism, and something catches my eye. There was a slight distortion in the picture near the right side of the basin. I pull out the negative that I have of the image and hold it up against the light. The cause of the distortion is a bit clearer in this image. I burned the photograph and the negative and will not print them in the book I intend to publish.
But believe me when I say that I saw what gave Mary such a cause for alarm at the photographs. Hanging onto the edge of the basin were two pale hands, clawing to get out of the tub.
Thank you, James, for your recent story submission!
its the 9th of november well i think it is but i cannot leave, i have tried to get out .. but i cant. soon it will be my birthday but i cannot leave its evil in here the stink is ransid . at all happen two days ago ,i was having a calm walk in the rain when i noticed a old man walking parrale to me on the other side of the street. I think i knew him .. yeah i did he was a doctor who help with my kids brocken leg , he was nice keppt to himself most of the time , he had been round for dinner now and then but then i noticed he just stopped . As he started to fall i droped my umbrella and ran for him, he said he ” dont worry .. i think im ok triped on a bloody lose slab” i got out my cell and called my wife to give us a lift , thats when i notice it . in a worried voice ” your arm it .. its bleeding ” he looked down and his arm his eyes were filled with terror , and then he fainted . I shout out in hope that some one would come to help, then a man came running , franticly he said ” whats wrong ” i then proceded to tell the man what happend when i noticed it look like he wasent listening . “hey” i yeld but then he just looked up at me slowly and befor i could say oh my God with his grinning face he raised his arm and bashem by head with a mallet. i woke up in compleate darkness . I then slowly turned my head thats when i realised i could not my body was num but i was incased in what seemed like a locker then i noticed three lines of light , so i did my best to look through them what i saw made my heart jump out of my chest. Two blood shocked eyes staring back at me and a whispry voice said ” your wife will be here soon and you son then we can all Play” as he slowly shoved a knife in to the box and then there was a knock at the door . “come inthe man said ” he turned to me and said “Play time”.