In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the End."
Should a look of childlike fear come over the worker's face, you will then be taken to a cell in the building. It will be in a deep hidden section of the building. All you will hear is the sound of someone talking to themselves echo the halls. It is in a language that you will not understand, but your very soul will feel unspeakable fear.
Should the talking stop at any time, STOP and QUICKLY say aloud, "I'm just passing through, I wish to talk." If you still hear silence, flee. Leave, do not stop for anything, do not go home, don't stay at an inn, just keep moving, and sleep where your body drops. You will know in the morning if you've escaped.
If the voice in the hall comes back after you utter those words continue on. Upon reaching the cell all you will see is a windowless room with a person in the corner, speaking an unknown language, and cradling something. The person will only respond to one question: "What happens when they all come together?"
The person will then stare into your eyes and answer your question in horrifying detail. Many go mad in that very cell, some disappear soon after the meeting, and a few end their lives. But most do the worst thing and look upon the object in the person's hands. You will want to as well. Be warned, if you do your death will be that of cruelty and unrelenting horror. Your death will be in that room, by that person's hands.
This object is 1 of 538. They must never come together. Never.
1.28.2009
Creepypasta - The Kaleidoscope
The Kaleidoscope
While honeymooning in Maine, my wife and I stopped in the picturesque town of Boothbay on a particularly dreary and rainy day. Since our planned picnic was out of the question, we sought shelter in a dilapidated little antique store near the harbour. While my wife inspected the large chests and side tables near the door, I eagerly examined the antique tools and seafaring equipment inside the glass sales counter at the back. Being a collector of optics and mariner’s instruments, I hoped to find a sextant, or perhaps an old leather-bound telescope.
A particularly interesting piece caught my eye. It appeared to be a heavy brass flashlight, bearing a worn brown patina but remarkably modern in design. I asked the shopkeeper, but he could only tell me it was found in the same old sailor’s chest as several of the compasses and the sextant also on display. He inquired as to whether I would like to purchase it for five dollars, or perhaps have it for free. “It’s worthless to me, nobody wants it.” When I remarked about the price, he sighed wearily, and then reached into the cabinet and retrieved it for me.
“Here, see for yerself, feller.”
The craftsmanship was wonderful—quite durable and apparently hand-made, perhaps originating from somewhere in Europe. Worn lettering indicated it might be German, or perhaps Austrian, in origin. I twisted the bulb housing and a weak red beam swept out. Poking it into a dark corner of the shop, I was greeted with fantastic monotone swirls, moving and entwining with each other like a pit of eels. As I stared further into this unusual projector-kaleidescope, my fanciful mind invented ghoulish faces and sinuous, gnarled tendrils.
Shutting the device off, I turned excitedly to the shopkeeper. “Fantastic!” I said. “It must have an oil filter of sorts in front of the lens! I have two Victorian kalediscopes, but none that are illuminated like this.”
“You don’t get it, do you? Nobody gets it. They all come back to return it after a while.” The shopkeeper leaned on the counter and I could see that he was breathing heavily and perspiring. “They all think it’s some sort of trick… till they start seeing it when the light’s off.”
“That ain’t no projection, mister. That… damned thing, that light… it ain’t makin’ up those creatures. It’s just lettin’ your eyes see what’s already there.”
As posted on creepypasta[dot]com.
While honeymooning in Maine, my wife and I stopped in the picturesque town of Boothbay on a particularly dreary and rainy day. Since our planned picnic was out of the question, we sought shelter in a dilapidated little antique store near the harbour. While my wife inspected the large chests and side tables near the door, I eagerly examined the antique tools and seafaring equipment inside the glass sales counter at the back. Being a collector of optics and mariner’s instruments, I hoped to find a sextant, or perhaps an old leather-bound telescope.
A particularly interesting piece caught my eye. It appeared to be a heavy brass flashlight, bearing a worn brown patina but remarkably modern in design. I asked the shopkeeper, but he could only tell me it was found in the same old sailor’s chest as several of the compasses and the sextant also on display. He inquired as to whether I would like to purchase it for five dollars, or perhaps have it for free. “It’s worthless to me, nobody wants it.” When I remarked about the price, he sighed wearily, and then reached into the cabinet and retrieved it for me.
“Here, see for yerself, feller.”
The craftsmanship was wonderful—quite durable and apparently hand-made, perhaps originating from somewhere in Europe. Worn lettering indicated it might be German, or perhaps Austrian, in origin. I twisted the bulb housing and a weak red beam swept out. Poking it into a dark corner of the shop, I was greeted with fantastic monotone swirls, moving and entwining with each other like a pit of eels. As I stared further into this unusual projector-kaleidescope, my fanciful mind invented ghoulish faces and sinuous, gnarled tendrils.
Shutting the device off, I turned excitedly to the shopkeeper. “Fantastic!” I said. “It must have an oil filter of sorts in front of the lens! I have two Victorian kalediscopes, but none that are illuminated like this.”
“You don’t get it, do you? Nobody gets it. They all come back to return it after a while.” The shopkeeper leaned on the counter and I could see that he was breathing heavily and perspiring. “They all think it’s some sort of trick… till they start seeing it when the light’s off.”
“That ain’t no projection, mister. That… damned thing, that light… it ain’t makin’ up those creatures. It’s just lettin’ your eyes see what’s already there.”
As posted on creepypasta[dot]com.
1.25.2009
Now Introducing... The Fear Playlist
First and foremost, to share my 'Fear' playlist [on my iPod] with you all:
.x.. Innocence Lost [Intro] - London After Midnight, album Psycho Magnet
.x.. Initiation - AFI, album The Art Of Drowning
.x.. Hell - Steve Zuranski, album More Scary Sounds [this song* was discovered by use of Google]
.x.. Origin - Evanescence, album Origin
.x.. Ode To Silent Hill - Scix Maddix, can be found here: http://scix.dreamhosters.com/creepy-sounds.html [only a few other things there are actually decent, most are honestly not very scary]
.x.. Call Of The Zombie - Rob Zombie, album Hellbilly Deluxe
.x.. Pan Pipes - Scix Maddix, see above link
.x.. AFX237 v.7 - Aphex Twin, album drukqs
Not much at the moment, and perhaps it isn't all that scary, but it will be added to when I've found more things worthy of being put on there.
There will be a non-post item added onto the blog for easy and noticeable updating of the playlist.
*if you can call any of these things songs. somehow it doesn't quite sound right to me in this case, given that these are scary sounds and not normal, everyday songs one finds on the radio or anything.
.x.. Innocence Lost [Intro] - London After Midnight, album Psycho Magnet
.x.. Initiation - AFI, album The Art Of Drowning
.x.. Hell - Steve Zuranski, album More Scary Sounds [this song* was discovered by use of Google]
.x.. Origin - Evanescence, album Origin
.x.. Ode To Silent Hill - Scix Maddix, can be found here: http://scix.dreamhosters.com/creepy-sounds.html [only a few other things there are actually decent, most are honestly not very scary]
.x.. Call Of The Zombie - Rob Zombie, album Hellbilly Deluxe
.x.. Pan Pipes - Scix Maddix, see above link
.x.. AFX237 v.7 - Aphex Twin, album drukqs
Not much at the moment, and perhaps it isn't all that scary, but it will be added to when I've found more things worthy of being put on there.
There will be a non-post item added onto the blog for easy and noticeable updating of the playlist.
*if you can call any of these things songs. somehow it doesn't quite sound right to me in this case, given that these are scary sounds and not normal, everyday songs one finds on the radio or anything.
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