Scary Stories
Requested by Dancergirl13, who says she knows a good one.
Date: October 28, 2007
Categories: Life, The Universe
Comments RSS TrackBack 92 comments
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in October 28th, 2007 @ 16:08First post!! WOOOOTT!! *does a dance, eats some pie, the works*
Now its for real: Ultimate scary story book: “Daemon Hall” by Andrew Nance
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Purple Panda
in October 28th, 2007 @ 16:25Ooh! Dancergirl13, do tell
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Irregular Bump with Copius Fur
in October 28th, 2007 @ 16:28Scary Stories! This should be interesting…
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Jadestone
in October 28th, 2007 @ 16:41Hmm, I should try writing a scary story. I’d need a good idea though…
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Irregular Bump with Copius Fur
in October 28th, 2007 @ 17:04How about one with HPBs that started eating everyone’s posts? Okay, that was pretty stupid…
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Unintended Pun
in October 28th, 2007 @ 17:21Hmmmm. I like scary stories. I like Stephen King’s short story collection called Everything’s Eventual. I’m not very good at writing short stories because I’m too silly.
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lifewithoutanipod-Land of Confusion
in October 28th, 2007 @ 18:34I’ve never really read a scary story. I’ve been meaning to read The Shining (Did I spell that right?) but i haven’t gotten around to getting it.
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Irregular Bump with Copius Fur
in October 28th, 2007 @ 18:52I think once watched a Simpson’s Halloween Episode called “The Shining”, though I think it doesn’t have much to do with the real story…
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Prarilius Canix who cannot WAIT for NaNoWriMo to begin in 4 days
in October 28th, 2007 @ 18:55I don’t like reading scary stories, but I have a feeling I’d enjoy writing them.
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in October 28th, 2007 @ 19:05Okay Dancegirl, shoot.
-Actually, I’m a pretty good writer myself. If only I had an idea. Hey. This is the same problem Jadestone has. Wasn’t there a thread where we were talking about writer’s block? Hmmm…
I would like to read some Stephen King. I think my grandmother still has my mom’s old scary story books somwhere!
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in October 28th, 2007 @ 19:14HEY—CAN WE HAVE A SCARY STORY-WRITING CONTEST???????????
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Irregular Bump with Copius Fur, always agreeable
in October 28th, 2007 @ 19:18Sweet! That’s a great idea!
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Beavo the Online Stalker
in October 28th, 2007 @ 21:04Once upon a time, there was a scary story. The end.
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Hafiz
in October 28th, 2007 @ 21:05One there was a man. He was walking down the street to his appartment when he heard a sound. THUMP. IT was like a big hollow stomp, but he didn’t look back to see it, he just walked faster. As he increased in speed so did the thumps. He looked back, and there was a casket behind him! He started to run, and he got to his appartment complex and was closing the door when a large thump broke down the door. He ran up the stairs, but the casket followed him, climbing the stairs. He finally made it to his room, but the casket could not be stopped. He ran into the bathroom, opened the madicine cabnet and started throwing things at the casket, but it kept drawing closer and closer, until he turned around and grabbed the last bottle, caugh syrup, and threw it. And just like that, the Coffin stopped.
get it, Cough-in coffin.
It’s halarious
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Beavo the Online Stalker
in October 28th, 2007 @ 21:1914-……..ha?………….
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Hafiz
in October 28th, 2007 @ 21:4015- My language Arts teacher told it to the class. Most of them didn’t get it. I’m in the ADVANCED class
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Irregular Bump with Copius Fur
in October 28th, 2007 @ 21:51Does anyone know a scary story that is ACTUALLY SCARY?
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Red-tailed HAWK is shortening his name...
in October 29th, 2007 @ 07:04I may try to invent one, but I won’t try to make it off of the top of my head here and now because it would be more like a boring joke that went sour and smelly and bad. Yup, it wouldn’t be very good…but I’ll be back EVENTUALLY if monday doesn’t eat me!
Wait, if it does eat me, I’ll tell you about it! The scariest thing in the world…
Red-tailed HAWK
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pig named llama
in October 29th, 2007 @ 09:14There once was a farmer named John who lived in a village. It was the sweetest little town the world had ever seen. Children played in the streets, dogs ran free, and people were altogether friendly. Of course, that was until one incident put a stop to the fun, and a start to the terror.
One day, John woke up with the sun, as was his routine. He climbed out of bed, slid into his overalls, and headed to the kitchen for coffee and his usual breakfast of 3 fried eggs and some sausage. When he went outside to tend to his goats, however, his normal routine was lost. Two out of his five goats lay dead on the ground. Assuming some disease had taken them, he solemnly went about the rest of his day.
At the village market, he told of his misfortune to his friends. They tryed to cheer him up, told him he’d work through it. But something was distracting John. There was another being present, one that was almost transparent enough for John not to notice, but notice he did. It was a black mist that hung in the air. It could have easily been mistaken as smoke except for two things: two glowing eyes, if that’s what they were. Two little, yellow, glowing dots. John’s friends looked where he was staring, and they saw.
“Haaaah!” the mist screeched, “It was no disease, you fools.” And it disapeared.
The poor famer didn’t know what to do. How does one protect against something he can hardly see? That night he couldn’t sleep. When he heard a series of thumps down in the barn, he knew something had happened. He grabbed his coat and ran down as fast as his tired body allowed. all four pigs were dead. He turned around and watched as three chickens simultaniously collapsed to the floor. The mist, or whatever it was, was nowhere to be seen. That could have been because it was too dark to see, or maybe it had vanished as it had that day in the market. No one really ever knew.
John was scared beyond belief. If this ghost-thing could kill his animals, couldn’t it just as easily kill him? He shivered, but not from the cold. The mist drifted into the light of John’s lanturn and spoke in its high-pitched screech.
“You’re right,” it said, “I CAN kill you.” John didn’t remember speaking his thoughts aloud. The mist continued, its eyes glowing, “There is one way to destroy me, and I’ll never tell!” It disapeared as the word “tell” hung suspended in the atmosphere.
John tried everything. Garlic, rabbit feet, all the cured suspicions could name. Nothing worked, and every day more animals throughout the village died. Dogs, cats, birds, rats. And farm animals. Finally John knew. He would sacrifice himself the the mist/ghost/thing/creature and put a stop to the havoc.
That night he stood bravely in his barn and waited. The mist appeared, and asked in its terrible, fingers-on-the-chalkboard voice, “And what have we here?”
“Take me,” John said as firmly as he could, though there was a tremer in his voice. “I’ll sacrifice myself if you’ll leave.”
“Hmmm.. I suppose that could be arranged….” and the mist seeped into the farmer’s body, sliding inside through the many open pores og his skin.
John was dead. The villagers burried his body and wrote on his tombstone: The Man Who Saved Us.
One month later John’s body rose from his grave. Oh, no, John was not alive. But something inside him was.
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pignamedllama
in October 29th, 2007 @ 09:17i tried to submit a story but i dont think it worked. if it did thats cool
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pignamedllama
in October 29th, 2007 @ 09:18There once was a farmer named John who lived in a village. It was the sweetest little town the world had ever seen. Children played in the streets, dogs ran free, and people were altogether friendly. Of course, that was until one incident put a stop to the fun, and a start to the terror.
One day, John woke up with the sun, as was his routine. He climbed out of bed, slid into his overalls, and headed to the kitchen for coffee and his usual breakfast of 3 fried eggs and some sausage. When he went outside to tend to his goats, however, his normal routine was lost. Two out of his five goats lay dead on the ground. Assuming some disease had taken them, he solemnly went about the rest of his day.
At the village market, he told of his misfortune to his friends. They tryed to cheer him up, told him he’d work through it. But something was distracting John. There was another being present, one that was almost transparent enough for John not to notice, but notice he did. It was a black mist that hung in the air. It could have easily been mistaken as smoke except for two things: two glowing eyes, if that’s what they were. Two little, yellow, glowing dots. John’s friends looked where he was staring, and they saw.
“Haaaah!” the mist screeched, “It was no disease, you fools.” And it disapeared.
The poor famer didn’t know what to do. How does one protect against something he can hardly see? That night he couldn’t sleep. When he heard a series of thumps down in the barn, he knew something had happened. He grabbed his coat and ran down as fast as his tired body allowed. all four pigs were dead. He turned around and watched as three chickens simultaniously collapsed to the floor. The mist, or whatever it was, was nowhere to be seen. That could have been because it was too dark to see, or maybe it had vanished as it had that day in the market. No one really ever knew.
John was scared beyond belief. If this ghost-thing could kill his animals, couldn’t it just as easily kill him? He shivered, but not from the cold. The mist drifted into the light of John’s lanturn and spoke in its high-pitched screech.
“You’re right,” it said, “I CAN kill you.” John didn’t remember speaking his thoughts aloud. The mist continued, its eyes glowing, “There is one way to destroy me, and I’ll never tell!” It disapeared as the word “tell” hung suspended in the atmosphere.
John tried everything. Garlic, rabbit feet, all the cured suspicions could name. Nothing worked, and every day more animals throughout the village died. Dogs, cats, birds, rats. And farm animals. Finally John knew. He would sacrifice himself the the mist/ghost/thing/creature and put a stop to the havoc.
That night he stood bravely in his barn and waited. The mist appeared, and asked in its terrible, fingers-on-the-chalkboard voice, “And what have we here?”
“Take me,” John said as firmly as he could, though there was a tremer in his voice. “I’ll sacrifice myself if you’ll leave.”
“Hmmm.. I suppose that could be arranged….” and the mist seeped into the farmer’s body, sliding inside through the many open pores og his skin.
John was dead. The villagers burried his body and wrote on his tombstone: The Man Who Saved Us.
One month later John’s body rose from his grave. Oh, no, John was not alive. But something inside him was………………….
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pignamedllama
in October 29th, 2007 @ 09:19k i got it to work.. sorry if it shows up twice. i dont know what happened.
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pignamedllama
in October 29th, 2007 @ 09:37ahh sorry it showed up twice :-p
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in October 29th, 2007 @ 14:21That’s a pretty cool story, llama. Did u make it up? I’ll try to ad-lib one here:
It was dark, and Jerry was afraid. He was only six, you know. He had been afraid of the dark since he could talk, and nothing could cure his fear except the comforting voice of his mother… until the fever took her away. Now nothing could stop Jerry’s fear. One particularly dark night he was lying awake in bed, and he heard a voice coming from the pumpkin patch. He figured he would see what it was because the full moon was shinig brightly directly over the pumpkins’ home. When he got there, the voice was gone, but he felt a sense of comfort under the moon, and slept there that night. In the morning, he was woken up by his father. “Rise and shine, m’boy! Today’s pumkin carvin’ day for the Halloween Festival!” Jerry remembered that Halloween was just a few days away, and his village always had a contest about who could carve the scariest jack-o-lantern. He didn’t wnat to miss it; it was always great fun. He rubbed his eyes, went inside, and got dressed. After a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and tea, he set out to pick the fattest pumpkin he could find. He picked a good sized one, got out his dad’s carving knife, and got to work. He chopped off the top, scooped out the seeds, and began to carefully slice away bits of the side to make a scary face. Finally, he was done. His jack-o-lantern had two big, oval eyes, a small diamond nose, and a squiggly mouth. The only flaw had already been on there: a scar that ran down the right side of the pumpkin. “It’s perfect!” He said to himself. That night, he heard the voices coming from the pumpkin patch again. The first thing that came to his mind was, “Burglers! They’re stealing my pumpkin!”, so he ran out without a second thought. He saw a dark figure slowly rise from the ground, and it seemed to be holding its head. It turned around, its face all orange, a scar running down the right side, eyes glowing fiendishly. Jerry recongnized it. “Momma?” ….. “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?!?!?!?”
~Epilogue~
Jerry’s body was found the day of the festival by his father. He called the village priest over to take a look. “Yep, I guess the Lord said that his time had come.” The father was the only one out of the many that attended the funeral to notice the bite marks on his son’s neck. He thought to himself : “Personally, I think his time was up acording to something else…….”
How’s THAT for eerie?
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lifewithoutanipod-Chop Suey!
in October 29th, 2007 @ 14:48Edgar Allen Poe wrote some pretty creppy stuff, but not scary. The Tell-Tale Heart is a classic horror story.
I’m leaving for the bookstore in two hours. Could anyone recommend any horror books?
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Irregular Bump with Copius Fur
in October 29th, 2007 @ 17:23Sorry, I currently don’t know of any good horror books. Dancergirl13 says she had a good one… Where is she?
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in October 29th, 2007 @ 18:1926- IDK, but I hope she tells us her story soon! I’m in the mood for a good scare—HALLOWEEN IN A FEW DAYS!!
25- “Daemon Hall” is the best horror book in the world. It’s not incredibly frightening, but there are definitely some chill running down your spine moments.
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in October 29th, 2007 @ 18:20I love this thread: Thanks Dancegirl!
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Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in October 29th, 2007 @ 20:48“…Out in the darkness they could hear the rustling of leaves as the bunny dragged itself across the ground with its long, prehensile ears. Its voice grew louder. ‘Give it back to me,’ it cried. ‘Give me back my body!‘”
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Ultimate Supreme Executive Chairman Grant O.
in October 29th, 2007 @ 20:59I think “The Black Cat” is a creepier story than “The Tell-Tale Heart.”
Here’s an excerpt from my book that’s pretty creepy. What’s just happened is that the centaur Lunarius’ trireme has collided with that of the minotaur Polquis head on, destroying it. Note: if you are easily disgusted or possess a weak stomach, I suggest you don’t read this.
Though Lunarius’ trireme was the stronger, still it had been damaged by the collision. It limped through emerald seas, searching for a port to repair its damaged timbers. Southward it headed, finding no place of refuge. Finally the ship came across a small island, covered by a stone fortress. Lunarius steered the ship into the small harbor, the mercenaries tying ropes around the iron bollards to secure it. Akh and a small complement of Sentients were chosen to speak to the owner of the island, wherever they found him.
The Anubite and the eight mercenaries with him walked through the streets of the fortress. Nothing was seen, not even a Feral. Akh sniffed wildly, but apparently detected nothing. More than one of the mercenaries wished Phobos and Deimos had not come with them, for they were not helping bolster the spirits of the Sentients; rather, the blackness oozing from their eyeholes instilled more unease.
The complement walked on, progressing higher in the fortress. Finally they came to a gate of black wood, carved with the legend, Consider yourself warned: beasts never come out.
Akh half-growled, half-snorted, but either way, it was contemptuous. “There’s a first time for everything. Come on, lads.†With these words he heaved mightily and opened the gate. The mercenaries proceeded into a hall of the same gray stone as the rest of the fortress. At the end, behind a small table, was seated a Sentient, talking avidly to himself.
“Scribe, there are more visitors. This I know. Scribe, some of them are not human. This I also know. Scribe, I must save them. This I know. How shall we do it? This I do not know.†After each sentence the Sentient’s beak clicked shut. The Eshmunit looked with his bird eyes at the mercenaries in front of him, turning his ibis head back and forth. He blinked slowly. “Greetings, friends,†he said, finally addressing the complement of mercenaries. “I am Rishnit. I am a scribe for the inhabitants of this isle. At the moment they are away, which is fortunate. You may yet have a chance, if you leave now. But I must request something.â€
Akh tilted his head quizzically to one side. “Why must we leave? We have not harmed anyone or anything on this island. We merely require the use of its harbor to repair our ship, friend Rishnit. What could be so terrible about this place?â€
A tear escaped the ibis eye. “I am a prisoner here, only alive because I am useful. All other members of my crew were murdered. This island is the home of a perverse group of men who think only humans have a right to live. They claim all other Sentients are dumb animals, and kill all who come here. You are lucky; they are away raiding a Mar People village. But you must get out n–â€
The black gate flew open with a crash, hitting the wall. A veritable army of humans poured in, storming the hall and overrunning the mercenaries. The complement was quickly overwhelmed and all of the mercenaries were tied to iron chairs retrieved from side rooms. Rishnit was dragged towards a staircase and out of sight, his piping voice crying out helplessly. A pale, clean-shaven human paced up and down in front of the bound figures.
“Beasts!†he spat. “Hideous, stinking, hairy creatures of lower intelligence. Walking about as though they were as good as humans. Part-humans are scarcely better than Ferals. I slay as many as I can, yet I come back here to find my island overrun with the very beasts I destroy. It’s bad enough having to put up with the inferior scribe every day. You! You look like a figure of… authority. It is a dark day indeed when a filthy, flea-ridden jackal leads men into battle. Why are you here, SCUM??â€
Akh strained against his bonds. Flecks of foam flew from his slathering jaws as he snarled, “ I will eat your heart, slime!â€
The man punched Akh in the forehead, knocking him out cold. His face was mottled crimson and purple with rage. “The dog dares to speak to me! What shall we do with him?â€
Roars filled the hall as the human supremacists voiced their opinions as to how Akh should die. The leader held up a hand for silence. “All in good time, Superiors. First, we shall inspect the other members of this motley group. A carrion bird,†he said, walking by Sabot, “a tattooed wonder,†passing Thrüm, “an olive mutant,†spitting in Sutsrek’s face, “ and a handful of Superiors. Oh, and what have we here? Two masks.â€
Phobos and Deimos sat impassively in their chairs, neither shivering with fear nor quaking with rage. The bald human stopped in front of them. “What are you? Are you Superiors or scum?â€
Hissing voices spoke in unison. “Touch us not.†They spoke no more.
The big man guffawed. “I don’t think you’re in a position to give me orders. Tell me what you are, or I’ll take off those helmets and see for myself.â€
The hissing voices spoke again. “You don’t want to do that.â€
“But I do!†shouted the man. He placed a hand on each of the twins’ helmets and pulled.
Darkness shrouded the hall. Everything was black, black as the abyss. Estrello’s eyes strained for a ounce of light, but saw nothing. Currents of air buffeted his face, and he imagined he could hear distant screams. A drop of something warm and wet flicked onto his cheek, beginning to trickle down slowly. Faint howls carried on the winds that had permeated the halls. Then all was quiet.
The silence beat against Estrello’s ear drums. He could see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing but an odd coppery smell. For ten minutes nothing happened. Then the darkness on the hall lifted.
Phobos and Deimos walked around, cutting the bonds of the other mercenaries with their daggers. Whereas before the darkness the hall had been grey, now it was an intense red. Mutilated corpses hung in various positions, barely recognizable as having once been humans. Blood spattered the pillars, walls, floor, and even the ceiling. Somehow Phobos, Deimos, and all of the living beings in the hall had remained spotless, except for the one fleck of blood on Estrello’s face.
Akh’s eyes flickered, and he jerked awake. He stood up and looked around the hall at the carnage that had taken place. Taking out his sickle dagger, he walked over to the table behind which Rishnit had sat. On it lay the prostrate form of the humans’ leader, now minus his legs. With a stab, Akh punched through the man’s ribcage with the razor-sharp steel of his dagger. His powerful arm dragged the blade around in a rough circle, cutting a jagged hole in the man’s chest. Removing the chunk of flesh and bone, Akh severed the blood vessels connecting the heart to the rest of the body and took it. “I don’t break promises,†he said.
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Irregular Bump with Copius Fur
in October 29th, 2007 @ 21:1530- Ugh! That was gory.
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Ultimate Supreme Executive Chairman Grant O.
in October 29th, 2007 @ 21:27What did I say? I said “If you are easily disgusted or possess a weak stomach, don’t read this.”
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Jadestone
in October 29th, 2007 @ 22:4030- Ooh, I like it. Especally Phobos and Deimos.
Hmm, Jadestone shall try a hand at this. Not to sure I’ll finish tonight, or what it’s going to be about, but what the heck.
. . .
Mariposa sat on the floor, playing with her worn stuffed teddy bear. It was missing an eye, and ear, part of it’s leg, and stiff threads stuck like needles from it’s battered body from many repairs. She dragged it’s stumpy legs across the floor in an immiation of walking, then thumped it down next to the ruins of a block tower, once bright cubes dulled with time and constant use. She could hear her mother in the other room, talking on the small black box that shrieeked sometimes. The men had given her a smaller one like it, but she never never touched that one, even when it buzzed like the angry black ad yellow thing that had tried to bute Mari durring the summer. Poor flying buzzer. But it should have known better.
Rosa stood tight-lipped, tapping her foot. If the kitchen hadn’t been so cramped and crammed with junk, she would have paced. As it were she could only wait for Enrique to finish yelling and calm down enough to listen.
“Look, Ricky, I know I’m the one with custody but that doesn’t mean you an’t help out every now and then!” Pause. “Yes, I know you send welfare, most months, but I can’t do this alone! You know what she’s like. I can’t leave her alone, especially since those government people came.”
There were a few more moments of angry mutter son his end, starting to rise towards the end, but before he could launch into another rant Rosa cut him off.
“There is no way on this earth I am losing my other daughter. I am never, ever going through that again. And you know the worst part? You didn’t evern care when Eva died! ‘Oh, just one less child to send a check for’! Well you know what?” She broke into a torrent of fluent spanish, which will not be translated as they’d have to be censored right out again. She slammed the phone back into the reciver at the end, then once more when it proptly dropped out of the holder hanging crookedly on the wall. She let her hands hold it in place for nearly a minute, breathing hard. Her fingers slowly unclenched, uncurling from the holder one by one. When she glanced up, she noticed Mariposa standing in the doorway, watching her curiously. Roas immidiatly felt guilty. She had been yelling, swearing in front of her baby. Sh was only 5 years old, what kind of mother was she…What kind of child was she. Mari’s eyes were dark and interested, certainly, but hardly in the kinds of things a child should be. She could understand the allure of sticking a hose in an anthill, she had been a child oonce too, but carefully placing small pebbles on the individual insects as the fled, and watching them squirm, unable to brek free, untill they finally gave up and died from shear loss of will… those were the things that kept Rosa up and night, worrying. Her eyes were perminatly ringed with dark blothches and her face lookd like one belonging to a woman ten years her senior. What must the others think… it was hard enough leaving her at day care for the 8 hours a day she worked, before rushig straight there to pick her up, sheild herself from the torrent of questions and concers about her surviving daughter… how her pictures wern’t of ponies and flowers ike other childrens, but twsting red spirils and dark, dark blue pools that seemed to twist your soul into peices. How she didn’t play with anyway, just sat alone with er stuffed bear and watched the other childeren. As if wondering why they were playing innocent childhood pastimes, such as house and doggies. Instead she bult carefull structures with the blocks, topheavy castles with towers taller than her and toppled whenever anyone else passed near. My domain, She semed to send out auras. You do not control Me.
Rick was never any help, either. As soon as it was apparent that his second child wasn’t quite normal, he ditched the three of them. 2 now. Rosa’s eyes filled involuntarily with tears, but nevertheless she went over to Mari and scopped her up, hugging her. Mari allowed herself to be touched, stiffly, for a few moments before pulling away.
“Can we go to the park?” She asked, staring up at Rosa with her dark, deep eyes. Her voice wasn’t pleading, and it was almost a statement rather than a question. Her voice lacked all but the barest traces of emotion.Rosa hesitated. “Sure, honey. But not for long. It’ll be dark in an hour.”
Mari nodded calmly, as if she had expected as such. Then she took her mothers hand in hers, her small palms dry and not as soft as they should have been. Then she led the way out the door and across the street to the emty set of lots that served as a playground to the nerighborhood kids. Her stuffed bear boucned along at her hip, each step jostling it and losening a bit more stictching. It should have been replaced years ago, but with her toy Mari was most like an ordinary child. She had to have it, or hell would break loose. Perhaps more litterally in her case.. . .
Gotta go now, I’ll finish it later. No really idea where this si going yet, but it should be interesting.
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Prarilius Canix who cannot WAIT for NaNoWriMo to begin in 3 days
in October 29th, 2007 @ 23:0629- “Give me back my body!”
We ought to write a scary Muse story in honor of Hallowe’en.
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lifewithoutanipod-Chop Suey!
in October 30th, 2007 @ 15:2130-That’s the one were he kills his wife right? Why did you choose Mar’s moons for characters names? Just Interested.
I’m reading “Cell” by Stephen King. It’s not particually scary or gorey
but it’d mildly interesting.
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Ultimate Supreme Executive Chairman Grant O.
in October 30th, 2007 @ 15:4835- I chose the names Phobos and Deimos not because they’re the moons of Mars, but because of their meanings. (Fear and Panic.) The faceless twins, Phobos and Deimos, are humaniform Sentients who never remove any of their armor, including their Corinthian helmets. There’s going to be a really big twist involving the twins around the climax.
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in October 30th, 2007 @ 16:0434- OK! Once apon a time, Kokopelli was taking a stroll through Feather’s garden, and saw him planting some turnips, AND DIDN’T PIE HIM…. Then the world ended and hpbs shot a space shuttle carrying some of their kind to mars, where they are going to start a new hpb civilization.
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Ultimate Supreme Executive Chairman Grant O.
in October 30th, 2007 @ 16:3434- I suggest a RRR in which Musers control themselves at a Muse Camping Jamboree in which lots of bad things happen.
“Fire and blood!” shouted the Chairman. “You’re supposed to toast marshmallows over a campfire, not pies! I understand a theme, but this is ridiculous!” He leaned casually against a tree, drinking from his flagon of [ginger] ale and whistling tunes.
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in October 30th, 2007 @ 19:2938- OOOHHH… good idea!
Have you noticed that almost every one of us has told a chilling story…except our hostess dancegirl???? *dramatic music plays* Isn’t that a little fishy?? *lightning strikes, a woman screams*
I think she could have lured us all here, and will kill us one by one according to some twisted nursery rhyme like in Agatha Cristie’s “Ten Little Indians”! It’s a really quite frightening theme….
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Irregular Bump with Copius Fur (or Fluffylump, whatever)
in October 30th, 2007 @ 19:3839- Yeah… Where IS dancegirl??? Has anybody seen her lately? It would suck to be killed… I would not be able to blog anymore.
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41
The chikens r drowning!
in October 30th, 2007 @ 20:59The ultamite horror story…
(Holds up picture of certain politician)
Eeeeek!
Go forth, my demon army!
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42
The chikens r drowning!
in October 30th, 2007 @ 21:00stickman!
(=D)–/—-
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43
The chikens r drowning!
in October 30th, 2007 @ 21:03hello? anyone?
Eeeeek! it’s dancegirl! she’s gonna kill me!
(pied 50,000 times)
help!…
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Prarilius Canix who cannot WAIT for NaNoWriMo to begin in 2 days
in October 30th, 2007 @ 21:0841, 42, 43- Off topic posts are strongly discouraged. So are smileys to excess except on certain threads. We welcome newbies (there are few enough of us), but please remember that this is not a chat room.
[/snark]
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Irregular Bump with Copius Fur
in October 30th, 2007 @ 21:1441, 42, 43,- “The Chickens r drowning”, you may want to start at the “Welcome all newcomers thread” to learn some common MBer courtesy.
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Prarilius Canix who cannot WAIT for NaNoWriMo to begin in 2 days
in October 30th, 2007 @ 21:25I wonder how TCRD’s going to react when he/she finds out that moderation isn’t usually this fast.
I need to come up with a scary story soon. I’ll do it tomorrow (All Hallow’s Eve!) so that I have time before starting my NaNo.
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Ultimate Supreme Executive Chairman Grant O.
in October 31st, 2007 @ 14:02“The Chickens r [sic] drowning” ought to make comments pertinent to the conversation. Or sod off.
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Prarilius Canix who cannot WAIT for NaNoWriMo to begin TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!
in October 31st, 2007 @ 14:20No scary story tonight, sadly. I can’t think of one.
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49
Aeiou's Homeboy who has no idea what he's dressing up as for Halloween!! Gah!
in October 31st, 2007 @ 15:03Yeah! *cough cough 42 cough cough*
I have yet another spooky tale:
There were these three college girls fooling around with a ouiji board. They were asking it who they were gonna marry and other girly stuff like that. Then three guys come in, saying theat they found out how to communicate with a certain spirit, and it told them to get on the girls’ ouiji board. The girls said okey. The boys put their hands over the stone, and it frantically started moving to lots of letters. The girls jotted it down-The…. girls… will… be happy…. to know… that they have….. been talking…. to 666. The girls’ screams could be heard all the way down the hall!
(this is a true story, as told by my science teacher)
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Prarilius Canix who cannot WAIT for NaNoWriMo to begin TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!
in October 31st, 2007 @ 15:1149- Sounds like the boys had some “influence” over the spirits’ communication- i.e. did it themselves.
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Prarilius Canix who cannot WAIT for NaNoWriMo to begin TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!
in October 31st, 2007 @ 15:17I think I was actually the first person to suggest that HPBs locomote with prehensile ears.
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Rebecca Lasley (Administrator)
in October 31st, 2007 @ 15:29(51) You did indeed:
https://musefanpage.com/blog/?p=481#comment-168
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Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in October 31st, 2007 @ 15:29Yes. It is the creepiest idea anyone has posted on the blog.
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Prarilius Canix who cannot wait for NaNoWriMo to begin TOMORROW!
in October 31st, 2007 @ 15:48Thank you, GAPAs, I just got an idea for a scary story. I will post it later.
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55
Love Happens
in October 31st, 2007 @ 15:50There was once a young man who fell in love with a beautiful girl. He went to her house everyday, but could not see her except through the keehole of the room where she danced everyday. He watched her everyday, staring through the keehole. After he had watched her for a month, an old man was sitting on the step outside of her house. He was her grandfather, and told the oyung man that this was the last day he could visit. He went inside, to her room, but all he could see through the keehole was red. He looked into the red, and thought about how sad he was that he couldn’t see his love, and how he had planned to tell her that he loved her. He went outside to go home, but the old man stopped her. The old man told him that he loved his daughter, and loved to watch her dance, but there was something odd about her. She had red eyes.
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Prarilius Canix who cannot wait for NaNoWriMo to begin TOMORROW!
in October 31st, 2007 @ 15:5955- So she was staring back through the keyhole at HIM? Spooky…
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Ultimate Supreme Executive Chairman Grant O.
in October 31st, 2007 @ 16:1153- What?! What about m’book? Didn’t you like Phobos and Deimos?
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MissSwann2223 has decided not to change her name
in October 31st, 2007 @ 19:1841- Which politician? *readies pie if you are part of the wrong political party*
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MissSwann2223
in October 31st, 2007 @ 19:2044-47: stop picking on chickens r drowning! even though i think his name is bad… i
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in November 1st, 2007 @ 16:31Dancegirl still isn’t here. I’m prepared to pie someone if she doesn’t show up… *the crowed “oooo”s*
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greekgurl the Latin speakin geek freak!
in November 1st, 2007 @ 16:44dont pie me!!!!!!!!!! plz? anyway….scary story, scary story…. The monkey’s paw…creepy…. oh and anything by Steven King (duh) and Down a dark hall by Lois duncan *raises (newly invented) pie shield* wat’s that? no pie shield? IM DOOMED!
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Purple Panda
in November 1st, 2007 @ 16:59My favorite scary stories are in Roald Dahl’s book of Ghost Stories. The best one is “Harry.” Has anyone read the book?
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in November 1st, 2007 @ 18:2962-No, sorry…
61- Ilove the monkey’s paw! My reading class read it last year! I shouldn’t have pied you, you have VERY good taste!
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Beavo the Online Stalker who has no idea where his NaNoWriMo is going but oh well
in November 1st, 2007 @ 19:47Some kid told me a scary story and then pretended to die.
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agagabagabag
in November 2nd, 2007 @ 10:13Grant, your story really isn’t that scary… maybe l’m just hardened.
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Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in November 2nd, 2007 @ 11:17It’s certainly gruesome. For sheer terror, though, the bunnies are hard to beat.
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Dancergirl13
in November 2nd, 2007 @ 12:08Um ok, sorry I havnt been able to get on. Ok so I was watching the travel channel the other day (at Halloween they always show stuff about ‘haunted’ houses, and it so much fun to watch) and this thing came on about a ‘possessed doll’. I copied this from a website to tell everyone. Here it goes:
The story begins in the home of Mr. And Mrs. Thomas Otto. The year1896. It was well known the Otto’s mistreated there servants and were not the kindest of people. One such servant, that aided in the care of the couples son, Robert Eugene Gene,(Gene) was said to be versed in the ways of voodoo. She for one reason or the other became very displeased with the Otto’s, and decided to do something about it. As the story goes the servant gave Gene a doll. The doll standing three feet tall, and stuffed with straw. With life like features, that were at first very endearing to Gene. He decided to name the doll “Robert”.
The doll became a constant companion to Gene. It is said that the Otto’s often heard Gene upstairs talking to the doll. This in it self might not have been so bad? The Otto’s were puzzled to hear the boy answering himself in an entirely different voice than his own?
Many Strange things began to occur in the Otto household. Many neighbors claimed to see Robert move about from window to window, when the family were out. Gene began to blame Robert for mishaps that would occur. The Otto’s claimed to hear the doll giggle, and swear they caught glimpses of the doll running about the house.
Gene began to have nightmares and scream out in the night, when his parents would enter the room, they would find furniture over turned, their child in a fright, and Robert at the foot of the bed, with his glaring gaze! “Robert Did It”…. The doll was eventually put up into the attic. Where he resided for many years.
When Gene’s parents died, and the Otto home came to Gene, Robert was rediscovered in the attic. Robert hold on Gene was strong, and from the moment Gene laid eyes on him, Robert’s influence could be again felt. Well Gene’s wife Robert unsettling. One day she decided she had enough of Roberts glare…and returned him to his attic sanctuary. Gene was displeased, and demanding that Robert needed a room of his own where he could see out of the window. He put Robert in the turret room, by a window. It wasn’t long after that Gene’s sanity was questioned?
The citizens of Key West heard about Robert, and his evil doings. Many people walking by the home reported that the doll watched from the turret room, and mocked them as they passed… School children feared walking by the Otto home , in fear of Roberts mean glare.
Gene, himself reported when visiting the turret room, found Robert him in the rocking chair by the turret room window, displeased with his accommodations…home. Finally Gene himself had enough of
But Robert had other plans. Visitors that entered the house could hear something walking back and forth in the attic, and strange giggling sounds. Guests no longer wanted to visit the Otto home.
Gene Otto died in 1972.The home was sold to a new family, and the tale of Robert had died down…
But Robert waited patiently up in the attic to be discovered, once again. The 10 year old daughter of the new owners. Was quick to find Robert in the attic. It was not long before Robert unleashed his displeasure on the child… The little girl claiming that the doll tortured her, and made her life a hell.. Even after more than thirty years later, she steadfastly claims that ” the doll was alive and wanted to kill her.”
Robert, still dressed in his white sailor’s suit and clutching his stuffed lion, lives quite comfortably, though well guarded, at the Key West Martello Museum. Employs at the museum continue to give accounts of Robert being up to his old tricks still today…
——————————————————————————–
Isnt that creepy? Whether you believe it could happen or not, its a fun story to tell!!!!
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Dancergirl13
in November 2nd, 2007 @ 12:11Woa, ok in the first pharagraph of the story, the very last sentance says ‘I copied this from a website just to tell everyone’ that was me, it was supposed to go at the beginning.
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Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in November 2nd, 2007 @ 12:16And then, one moonless night, Robert found a computer with a cable modem and learned to blog…
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Dancergirl13
in November 2nd, 2007 @ 16:1769-creepy………….
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Andrew
in November 2nd, 2007 @ 17:4367- Sweet. But, maybe the ending wasn’t so creepy. Something bad should happen. Like, Gene has a kid before he dies. Then, Robert is found to be missing. Gene’s kid is strangled to death in his home. That sort of thing. Somehow, a doll in a museum still torturing people doesn’t have such a big effect on me. It’s like Cujo. It’s a scary novel, but a demonic St. Bernard doesn’t do it for me.
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IBCF
in November 2nd, 2007 @ 17:56Oh, hello Dancegirl! I’m glad you’re back. At one point we thought you were going to kill everyone or something like that… (Read post #39)
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Dancergirl13
in November 2nd, 2007 @ 19:4871-You know, I think your right. That should totally be the end of the story, so much scarier.
72-Thanks! I read that post and actually thought it was quite humerous….Sorry it took me so long!!! But I have to have my share of fun and scare SOMEONE for Halloween dont I?
My mom used to live in a haunted house, her room was connected to the attic, she would always find the door open, there would be thumping from the closet, and she always felt really creeped out, she wouldnt stay in the living room by herself. Creepy huh?
My Aunt has like, a sixth sense or something, because some houses freak her out right off the bat, and some she loves and says are nice. And once she tried that ‘automatic writing’ and it worked!!! And apparently when she went to stay at my moms old haunted house, she refused to stay in my moms room, and mom didnt know this until a couple years ago, isnt that weird? And other people who have been in that house have said that there was something strange about that room, and they didnt know my mom until years later!!!! True story!!!!
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in November 3rd, 2007 @ 09:45My teacher knows someone with a sixth sense, she can see when people are gonna die in her dreams. She said that her friend’s granpa was gonna die in a certain place, and he did.
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Dancergirl13
in November 3rd, 2007 @ 14:3274-Woa, thats creepy.
How come not very many people have posted here?
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IBCF
in November 3rd, 2007 @ 18:53Maybe because they can’t find good scary stories to tell. They’re hard to come by these days…
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Dancergirl13
in November 3rd, 2007 @ 21:24I have another scary story. Once upon a time there was a Muser named Dancergirl13 who had strep throat. She sat at home all day watching movies and eating cold stuff for her throat. Then when she decided to check on her dear friends on museblog her mom yelled at her for having an attitude when she didnt even mean to. Ad now her mom is mad at her and wont let her have ice cream. The end.
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Ultimate Supreme Executive Chairman Grant O.
in November 3rd, 2007 @ 23:5577- That’s not scary. That’s depressing.
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in November 4th, 2007 @ 13:5378-It’s scary if her mom really blew a gasket! Beleive me, it happens!
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Momo
in November 4th, 2007 @ 14:5777: That is sad. And yes, it could be scary if your mother got violent or crept into your room late at night and cut off all your hair she was so mad at you. Ok, maybe not…whatever!
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Kagcomix the Special
in November 4th, 2007 @ 15:2173- did she have a basket that had this bone of her dog in it with rose petals? and did they have a psychik come and solve the problem?
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Dancergirl13
in November 4th, 2007 @ 16:3478,79,80,Thank you for you sypathy. Its all good now, I got my ice cream and mom is calm. Phew!
81-No…no one believed my mom about the house being haunted, her brother teased her and parents are….parents.
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Andrew
in November 7th, 2007 @ 19:15There was this one scary story I wrote way back. I can’t write it out (it was four pages long), but I can paraphrase.
A guy named Dan wakes up one morning. He finds noone in the house. He walks outside and the world is destroyed from an apparent H-bomb attack. Just when he thinks he is the last person on earth, he hears a twig snap behind him.
That’s where the story ends. I thought it was pretty creepy.
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in November 9th, 2007 @ 19:2483- Interesting…. it could’ve been an animal behind him, though…
38-Yeah!! canwecanwecanwecanwecanwe????
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in November 11th, 2007 @ 12:23Have we abandonned this thread?? *sniff*
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¡IBCF!
in November 11th, 2007 @ 13:0685- We should have started this thread earlier, when everyone was in the Halloween spirit.
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in November 11th, 2007 @ 14:4086- I agree, well too bad. We could have a thread where we write about turkeys’ lives, and how they eventually become thanksgiving dinner… or not.. BUT I STILL SUGGEST IT!!
Has anyone sen chickens r drowning in any other thread? Or at all? I think we hurt his/her feelings.. OR he/she’s one of those post once and leave quitters that we hate o-so-much!!! *growls at him/her wherever he/she is..*
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in November 12th, 2007 @ 17:29WHY ISN’T ANYONE POSTING??? GAH!
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¡IBCF!
in November 12th, 2007 @ 17:4287- Nope. Chickens r Drowning is nowhere in sight.
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in November 13th, 2007 @ 18:3589- Okay, maybe it was for the best.
I hope this thread isn’t abandonned… (still) *sniffs some more*
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¡IBCF!
in November 13th, 2007 @ 18:5790- Perhaps we can sort of keep it “dormant” until next Halloween.
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Aeiou's Homeboy
in November 16th, 2007 @ 18:4091- It’s for the best, …I think…. *sniff*… goodbye… *voice fades into the night*
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