Black and White

Transcription

Black and White

Black and White
Ruther John Guevarra
There are two types of hackers; black hat and white hat. Black
hat hackers are sort of like the “bad guys” or “antagonists” while
white hat hackers are the “good guys” or “heroes”. Black hat
hackers break the law by illegally accessing private information,
breaking into a secured site or network. They usually do this for
personal gain or maliciousness. White hat hackers or ethical
hackers as some would like to call it tries to penetrate computer
security systems legally or with permission. They do this to test
the security level of the system they are hacking so that they can
be improved and be protected from black hat hackers.
12/3/2013
Ruther John Guevarra ©20 13
Disclaimer:
All stories read by the characters in this book from a website called “creepypasta” are stories
that can be found on the website http://creepypasta.wikia.com. Creepypasta is an open-source website
where people share horror stories anonymously. Therefore, the authors of the stories are not cited in
this book. I do not own any of the materials that came from creepypasta.
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Reviews
“Wohoo!! Lupet ng libre mo pre!”
-Immanuel Mangulabnan
“Ang galling sobra! Two thumbs up!”
-Cameron James Russell
“Marunong ka pala magsulat? Ang galling!”
-Christian Pambid
“Ang tindi nito!”
-Michael del Rosario
“Nakaka-thrill hahahaha!”
-Demark Sola
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Table of Contents
Dedication .............................................................................................. 5
I. The Start............................................................................................ 6
II. The Arrival....................................................................................... 14
III. Can’t Sleep ...................................................................................... 30
IV. The Plan .......................................................................................... 47
V. The Gathering ................................................................................. 71
About the Author ................................................................................. 93
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Dedication
“This book is dedicated to my family
who is very supportive in everything I do.
To my awesome girlfriend who is always
there every step of the way.To my friends.
And most importantly to God.”
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I.
The Start
A
ssault Strike Force is a group of hackers based in the Philippines. They only graduated
high school and did not continue on their education to college. But what is surprising
about them is that they are all talented hackers since elementary. The group is
composed of five persons, all of which came from a very poor family. Jed, Bok, Char, Andrew
and Tik are all friends since elementary and members of the Assault Strike Force hacking group
with Tik leading the pack. Jed has a dream to set up his own business but does not have the
financial strength to do so. Bok simply wants to help his five siblings to continue on with their
studies and finish college. Char wants to bring his sick mother to a hospital so she can be cured
of her cancer. Andrew simply wants to become rich no matter what. Tik is a country boy who
simply wants to have a better life. All five of them are equally talented in their craft, and all
have the same goals; to make money.
One day Jed got a bargain at a small mall for a second hand laptop. It is an MSI CX640 model
with an i7 processor, 500gb hdd and 4gb worth of RAM. He was very happy. He thinks he was
lucky. He bought it for Php 15,000.00. He hurriedly went home after his transaction with the
salesman so he can test out his new laptop and show to his friends. Upon arriving home he
pulled out the laptop from his bag, 15.6 inch piece of machine, colored black and near mint
condition. He installed a 64-bit Windows 7 Ultimate cracked version in his laptop. After
installing the OS, he then installed all the necessary programs needed in his daily activities and
also illegal ones. The next day he tested out his new laptop. He went to an ATM, making sure no
one was looking. He pulled out a cord to connect his laptop and the ATM and did what any
black hat hacker would do, steal money from the ATM. After a few seconds, money came out of
the ATM and within seconds it was empty. He couldn’t count how much money flowed out of
the ATM because it so many. He stuffed the money in his bag filling it to a brim and went home
as if nothing had happened.
Bok is in his parents’ house helping out with the chores and helping his sibling with their
studies. 1pm he washes the dishes. At 2pm he wipes the floor. 4pm he picks up his siblings from
school. 6pm he prepares dinner for the family. 7pm washes the dishes. 8pm helps his siblings
with studies and homework. 9pm he now goes to his room and opens his desktop pc. Running
in a 32-bit Windows XP OS, the pc was relatively weak and prone to overheating. Even his pc is
weak, it’s enough for him to surf the net so he can self study and do research about
programming, designing, and most especially hacking. Most of his skill in hacking comes from
his determination and perseverance in studying online. With his skill, he is able to earn a little
money because some people pay him to hack someone’s Facebook and/or Twitter account. He
earns on average Php 500.00 per account. Sometimes he earns as much as Php 10,000.00 for
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high profile accounts. Even though he is earning, he doesn’t upgrade his pc because he is
incredibly thrifty and would only like to use his savings on very important stuffs or emergencies.
Char is playing Counter Strike 1.3 in a local computer shop in the village he is currently living in.
He is playing with some kids hanging out in the computer shop when a college kid named Kit
challenged him to a little one on one. The stake was bayad pc in local term, wherein whoever
loses the match will have to pay for both of their rental at the computer shop. Char was at the
counter terrorist side while Kit was at the terrorist side. Round 1; Char bought an M4A1
Carbine, Kevlar armor with helmet, 1 HE grenade, 2 flash bangs and 1 smoke grenade. His side
arm was the stock pistol for the counter terrorists. Kit bought an AK-47 rifle, Kevlar armor, 1 HE
grenade, 2 flash bangs and a Desert Eagle pistol. For four rounds both guys bought the same
equipments and the score was 2-2. On the fifth round Char bought the same equipments
except for his main weapon, he changed his main weapon to a 4-6 one shot sniper rifle. Kit also
bought the same equipments except for his main weapon which he changed to a 5-1 macho
gun. Char positioned himself at the sniping area and throwing a smoke grenade at his feet so
that Kit won’t be able to see his position. Char waited for Kit to go outside of the tunnel and
after 10 seconds the inevitable happens. Char spotted Kits character, aimed his sniper rifle at
Kit, and pulled the trigger. BOOM HEADSHOT!! Char wins the last round. Char usually hang out
in the computer shop so he can mask his sadness about his mother being sick.
Andrew is in his house fiddling with his smart phone, a Cherry Mobile Flare. He was trying to
search for exploits in his phone so that he can use it for hacking. He was able to create a facial
recognition app and installed it in his smart phone. Using the smart phone’s camera, the app
will be able to recognize faces and do a search on the net and give out information about the
subject to the user. With the information being gathered by his app, he will be able to hack
other peoples account, may it be social networking media or financial accounts. He is yet to try
out his own method of hacking.
Tik is back in the province of Cagayan helping his father in harvesting crops. He and his father is
up as early as 4am to harvest them crops so they can provide food for his family. Tik is tired of
living like this. He misses his life in the city. He misses his four other friends. He wants to get his
hands on a computer again. He wants to hack to earn more so he can escape his simple life. He
wants an adventure. He thought to himself that he needs to get back to the city. He plans to
save just enough money to get back to the city. He contacts his four friends to let them know
that he is coming back to the city and he has a plan. Tik called Char first over the phone to tell
him about his plan, and then he called Jed and Bok. He couldn’t contact Andrew so he had Char
talk to him. Tik continued on helping his father in the farm for a few more months.
Few months have passed, Tik was doing some odd jobs so he can earn a little more for his
savings. When suddenly an odd guy approached him and offered him a one time job. They
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talked at a nearby sari-sari store about the salary and job description. But before everything Tik
asked what was the odd guy’s name.
‘Pare, bago tayo mag-usap sabihin mo muna sakin pangalan mo..’
‘Ako nga pala si Tisoy, ohh ok na ba? Sinabi ko na pangalan ko, mag-usap na tayo tungkol sa
trabaho.’
‘Pano nga po pala gagawin dun? At magkano po pala ang sweldo?’
‘10k ang sweldo ok ka ba dun?’
‘ok na ok ako dun brad basta kailangan ko malaman kung anong kailangan kong gawin.’
‘Oo nga pala pasensya na hehe kailangan mo lang dalin ang isang package sa Manila para sa
isang kaibigan ko dun. Libre ko na ang pamasahe basta kailangan lang matanggap ng kaibigan
ko yung package na yan.’
‘Ano po ang laman ng package?’
‘Bukas ko na sasagutin ang iba mong mga tanong. Basta kailangan ko lang ako sagot mo kung
game ka ba o hindi.’
Tik thought for a bit about the offer. He will earn a lot of money at the same time get a free ride
to the big city. Even though Tik thinks it’s a bad idea, his urge to go to the city clouds his
judgment on the matter and almost immediately agreed to do the job.
‘Oo payag ako..’
‘HAHAHA mabuti! Gusto ko ang narinig ko. Magkita tayo bukas sa bus terminal ng ala sais ng
umaga. At wag kang malate.’
‘Sige po boss.’
Tik went back on his job and left early so he can talk to his father that he will be leaving
tomorrow morning. He ate dinner, washed the dishes and almost immediately went straight to
bed. The following morning, he ate breakfast, took a bath, and packed up his things. He went to
his father and family to say his goodbyes. With that he went straight to the bus terminal to
meet with Tisoy. Tik was five minutes late and Tisoy is a little upset.
‘Tagal mo brad. Anyare sayo? Usapan 6 ehh. Anong oras na?’
‘Sorry boss. Nagpaalam pa ako sa pamilya ko ehh. Pasensya na..’
‘Sige sige ok lng brad. Eto na pala yung package..’
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Tik took the bag and look at its contents. To his shock it was a collection of toys.
‘Boss bakit puro laruan to?’
‘Wag ka na puro tanong brad. Basta gawin mo na lang itong pinapagawa kong trabaho sayo.
Ok ba tayo dun?’
‘Sige po boss.’
‘Ipapamoney transfer ko na lang sayo ang pera pag naconfirm ko na sa kaibigan ko na
natanggap niya na ang package. Ok ba tayo dun?’
‘Paano niyo po malalaman na natanggap na ng kaibigan niyo yung package?’
‘Edi malamang sa malamang icocontact mo ako pag natanggap na ng kaibigan ko yung
package. Pero pwede ring siya ang cocontact sakin. Basta matanggap niya yung package!! Ok
na ba tayo dun? Pwede ka na bang umalis? Paalis na yung bus oh’
‘Ok na po. Sasakay na ako boss. Kunin ko na lang po cellphone number ninyo para macontact ko
po kayo kung may problema at pag natanggap na ng kaibigan ninyo.’
Tisoy gave his number to Tik and Tik proceeded to board the bus. The bus was a little crowded
but he managed to get a window seat at the fifth row. After a few minutes the bus was full and
after 10 more minutes the bus is on its way to the big city. The bus was so full, but the
temperature was ok since it was morning and the air is fresh and cool. Tik fell asleep for a while.
The person beside him began to notice him and observed him out of curiosity. The person is
actually a girl named Yuna who is studying in a university in the big city. She thinks that there is
something interesting in him but she doesn’t know what. She was staring at the sleeping boy
for almost half the trip. Suddenly the bus hit a bump on the road which woke up Tik. Tik saw
Yuna staring at him. They made eye contact for a while then Yuna broke eye contact. Tik
noticed Yuna blushing. He looked at Yuna for a while when suddenly.. *SLAP!!!!
‘Pota! Para saan yun?!’
‘Manyak!’
‘Huh?!’
‘Kung makatingin ka ehhh parang may binabalak.’
‘Whutttttt?’
‘Sira ulo!’
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‘Ikaw yung unang tumitingin diyan ehh.’
‘Huh?!’
‘Aminin.’
‘Tss’
Tik looked at Yuna again but she was looking back at him with a stern look on her face. After a
few minutes the bus arrived at the terminal. Yuna hurriedly went out of the bus leaving Tik a
little disappointed that he did not talk to her in a the way that he wanted. He actually had a
little crush on her. All hope was not lost when he saw a cellphone on the seat where Yuna was
sitting on. It was a pink Samsung S4. He noticed it was Yuna’s and thought that it was his chance
to get her number. Surprisingly there is no lock on her phone or a password so he quickly dialed
his number on Yuna’s phone and deleted the call logs. He then chased Yuna to give her phone
back. He saw her walking near a Mini Stop convenience store. He quickly approached her so he
can give the phone back.
‘Psst ate!! Yung phone niyo po!’
‘Ayy oo nga hahahaha tanga ko lang.’
‘Hindi naman. Na misplace niyo lang naman ehh.’
‘Hehe sige. Salamat kuya.’
‘Tik po. Tik ang pangalan ko.’
‘Hahahaha di ko tinatanong..’
‘...’
‘Uy joke lang!! Kapangalan mo kasi yung aso kong Labrador.’
‘Mahilig ka ba sa aso?’
‘Hindi.’
‘Niloloko mo ba ako?’
‘Hahahaha joke lang uy! Ang seryoso mo masyado..’
‘Pasensya na.’
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‘May apat akong aso at isang parrot. Yung isang aso Labrador yung kapangalan mo hahaha
and yung isa asawa nun and yung dalawa tuta pa lng, anak nung dalawa. Bakit mo nga pala
natanong kung mahilig ako sa aso?’
‘May isa kasi akong aso na naiwan sa probinsya. Namimiss ko na kasi. Sabay kami tumanda
nun.’
‘Bakit di mo dinala ditto?’
‘Mag hahanap kasi ako ng trabaho dito sa Maynila eh. Mapaparami lang ang gastos ko dito.’
‘Hindi ka ba estudyante? Nagtatrabaho ka na pala?’
‘Parang ganon hehe’
‘Labo ng sagot..’
‘About nga pala sa bus kanina..’
‘Bayaan mo yun. Sorry sinampal kita. Nabigla lang ako kasi grabe ka makatitig sakin.’
‘Ikaw kaya yung grabe makatitig!’
‘Ulul hahaha ikaw kaya.’
‘Well anyways, pasensya na kung nastartle kita or something.’
‘Sorry din.’
‘...’
‘O sige Tik. Kailangan ko na mauna. Punta pa ako sa condo ko, mag-aayos pa ako ng gamit.
May pasok ako bukas ehh hahaha and thank you for returning my phone. Appreciate it.’
‘Walang anuman hehe’
‘O sige paalam na.’
‘Teka hahaha ano nga pala name mo?’
‘Secret.’
‘...’
‘Uy grabe!! Joke lang hahaha ako nga pala si Yuna. Nice to meet you Tik.’
‘Nice to meet you too.’
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‘O sige alis na ako. Punta ka na sa trabaho mo o kung ano man yan.’
‘Text text na lang.’
‘Good luck getting my number hehe.’
‘Don’t worry madali lang yan.’
‘Bahala ka.’
As they go on their separate ways, Tik texted Yuna the using number he got from miss calling
from the cellphone of Yuna. He texted: “Sbi sayo madali lng ehh hehehe :P -Tik”. Yuna replied
with: “OMFG!!! Pano? Tangina scary! Hahahaha lupet mo Tik hahahaha”. While Tik was
reading Yuna’s text he noticed that he did not have the package. He was shocked, he forgot
that he left the bag at his seat at the bus. He quickly ran as fast as he could to the bus terminal.
To his relief, the bus that he rode to Manila is still there parked at one of the parking slots for
buses in the terminal. He quickly went up to the bus but as he did, a security guard stopped him
off his tracks. He questions Tik.
‘Oi ano ginagawa mo diyan? Bawal pumasok diyan.’
‘Pasensya na po sir, pero may naiwan po akong bag kanina sa loob ng bus.’
‘Ay ganon ba? Pumunta ka doon sa may lost and found. Yung driver at conductor umalis na ng
terminal ehh. Pag may naiwang bag o kahit ano pang gamit sa bus sinusurrender na lang sa
may lost and found.’
‘Ay sige po sir. Salamat. Saan nga po pala yung lost and found?’
‘Doon lang. Dumeresto ka, pasok ka sa pintuan nay an yung kulay blue. Pag pasok mo kumaliwa
tapos kumanan ka sa pangatlong pintuan. May nakalagay na lost and found sa may pintuan.
Makikita mo naman agad yun.’
‘Ay sige po manong salamat ulit.’
Tik went inside the door as the security guard has instructed. Then went left and went in the
third door to the right. It says “Lost and Found” on the door. Tik quickly went inside to and
talked to the one in-charge of the department.
‘Sir, meron po ba diyang green na gym bag? Nike po ang tatak.’
‘Teka lang boss. Tingnan ko.’
After a few seconds..
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‘Eto po ba boss?’
‘Ayan!!’
‘Ano po pangalan niyo boss? At patingin po ng bus ticket niyo.’
‘Tik po. Eto po ID ko at ticket.’
‘Di ko hiningi ID mo boss hehe.’
‘Ayy katunayan lang na ako nga si Tik hahaha’
‘O sige boss. Eto na po bag niyo. Ayy at ticket niyo.’
‘Salamat po sir.’
Tik happily went out of the building and went to the Mini Stop where he had a chat with Yuna.
As he sat down to text Tisoy that he arrived at Manila, he noticed that he had an unread
message. It was from Yuna. It says: “It looks like your busy  See you around Tik.” Tik replied
with: “Had a geat time talking with you hahaha salamat Yuna  See you around.” Tik then
texted Tisoy that he had arrived in Manila. “Boss nandito na po ako sa Manila. Ano po address
nung kaibigan mo?” He waited for Tisoy’s replay. While waiting, Tik felt hungry so he bought a
chicken kariman in Mini Stop. As he was paying for his food, he spotted a familiar face.
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II.
The Arrival
‘Putek pare!!! Kamusta ka na? Namiss kita alam mo ba? hahahaha’
‘Takte hanggang ngayon bakla ka pa rin? Bwahahahaha!’
‘Ulul ka boy! hahaha’
‘Kamusta? Gulat ako nandito ka na! Ang bilis mo ahh hahaha’
‘Surprise dapat ehh haha’
‘Ay ganon ba? May matutuluyan ka ba dito?’
‘Hindi ko pa alam. Pero feeling ko wala pa ehh.’
‘Ahh ganon ba? Pag wala kang mapuntahan sabihin mo lang sakin. Magpapaalam ako sa
magulang ko. Bakit nga pala napaaga yata dating mo dito?’
‘Nabigyan ako ng trabaho. 10k sweldo isang bagsakan. Tapos libre pa pamasahe. Kahapon lang
ako nasabihan. Tinanggap ko agad dahil madali lang naman ang trabaho ehh tapos libre pa
pamasahe kaya ayun. Sorry di ko agad kayo nasabihan hahaha saying opportunity ehh.’
‘Ano bang trabaho yan?’
‘Dadalin ko lang tong bag na-.. ayy teka lang. May nagtext..’
Tik checked his phone and someone did send a text. It was Tisoy. “Eto address brad. 23 Doña
Manuela Street, Sternling Subdivision, Pamplona Tres, Malate, Manila. Ang pangalan ng
kaibigan ko ay John. Ikamusta mo ako ahh hahaha.” Tik asked Bok if he knows the address. Bok
says he knows the place but hasn’t been there in a while. Tik pays for his chicken kariman and
ordered another one for Bok.
As they went outside, Bok texted the other three to inform them that Tik has arrived in Manila.
“Mga parekoy!! Nandito na si Tik! Hahahaha! Ksama ko siya ngaun!... Mabubuo ulit tayo
bwahhaha! GM ASF”
‘Gago ka Bok!! Surprise nga ehhh!! Tanga amp!’
‘I can’t help it dude! Nakakatuwa kasi nandito ka na! Naexcite ako na ibalita sakanila.’
‘Tsk sige na nga. Samahan mo na lang ako sa lugar na to.’
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‘Sige pare hahaha pero kailangan ko umuwi ng alas singko ahh. Pag ganun text text na lang.’
‘Sige lang pre’
Tik and Bok rode a jeep to the address. Tik was happy that he is back in Manila, he feels that he
is going to have a very epic and awesome time with his old friends. Tik and Bok arrived at the
village of Tisoy’s friend. Unfortunately Bok had to leave Tik because he is needed at his parents’
house. Tik was on his own from here on then. Tik looked for a tricycle terminal. Luckily there is
one near the entrance of the village. He boarded a tricycle and told the driver the address of
Tisoy’s friend. As they draw near the street of his destination, Tik texted Tisoy about the current
status of the delivery and that he is near the house of John, Tisoy’s friend. The tricycle stopped
at a big house, it’s got a brown gate, not so many windows, a black roof, and the walls outside
of the house is colored white. Tik paid the tricycle driver and went on its way. Tik rang the
doorbell, but no one was answering. He rang it again but still no answer. Tik suddenly feel that
he was being watch. He couldn’t get the feeling a way. It was so disturbing for Tik. He wanted
to run away from the house but he has the urge to go in out of curiosity. Since the gate was
unlocked, easily went it and come up the door. From the looks of things the door is not locked.
Tik checked if the door was indeed unlocked, and surprisingly it was. Tik was 50-50 about his
decision to go in uninvited or to just leave and contact Tisoy that no one is home. But his
curiosity got the best of him. He went in. As he went in.. BAM!! The door behind him suddenly
closed. The lights began flickering rapidly. He immediately regretted his decision. He was
sweating heavily. He is so scared. Then suddenly..
‘BOO!!!’
‘Ay putangina!!!!’
Tik ran furiously to the front door. But he couldn’t get out. The door is closed shut. He was
panicking.
‘AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA duwag ampota!’
‘Huh?!’
‘Got ya nigga hahahaha’
‘...’
‘Hahahaha sorry brad haha malakas lang talaga ako mantrip hehe pasensya na’
‘Hayop ka!! Muntik na ako mamatay!!’
‘Sira ulo! Hindi ako killer!’
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‘Alam ko..’
‘O alam mo pala ehh!’
‘Sino ka ba?’
‘Ako ang may-ari ng pamamahay na ito. Hahaha ako si John. Mukang inatake ka sa puso ahhh
bwahahahaha’
‘Sira ulo ka..’
‘HAHAHAHA’
‘Ako nga pala si..’
‘Tik.’
‘Ay pano niyo po nalaman?’
‘Edi malamang sa malamang sinabi sakin ni Tisoy. Kababata ko yun ehh alam mo ba?
Hahahaha malakas din mantrip yun.’
‘Ganun po ba.’
‘Nung tinext ako ni Tisoy na malapit ka na daw naghanda na ako ehh. Gusto ko kasi manakot
hehe’
‘Hindi nakakatawa..’
‘Eto naman pikon hahahaha o asan na pala yung package ko? Excited na ako makuha hahaha’
’Eto na po.’
Tik handed over the bag to John who excitingly opened the bag. To Tik’s surprise it really is
indeed toys. Tik was actually afraid of opening the bag because of the fear that the contents of
the bag might be drugs or anything illegal. Despite the fact that he knows that the contents of
the bag were toys, he still thought that he was actually smuggling something illegal. The toys
were actually Gundam action figures and they were collector’s edition. John was actually a
collector of anything Gundam.
‘Oh yeah!! May Strike Freedom Gundam na ako wohoo!!’
‘...’
‘Sensya na ahh. Mahilig kasi ako sa Gundam ehh hahaha’
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‘Ahhh. Tawagan ko muna si Tisoy..’
‘Ayy wag na brad. Ako na lang. Masasayang pa load mo niyan.’
‘Sige salamat ahhh.’
‘Sabi nga pala sakin ni Tisoy wala ka daw matutulugan dito sa Maynila. Tama ba?’
‘Wala po.. pero meron akong mga kaibigan dito. Pag pumayag daw mga magulang nila pwede
akong makituloy doon.’
‘Aba dito ka na muna makituloy. Hindi mo pa alam kung kalian papaya yung mga magulang ng
mga yan. Baka mamaya sa kakaintay mo sa kalsada ka na matulog niyan hahahaha.’
‘Sigurado po kayo? Ok lang?’
‘Oo naman hahaha at wag ka nga mag po sa akin. Katropa mo ako ano ka ba? Ahahaha teka
lang tawagan ko lang itong si Tisoy.’
‘Gege.’
John called Tisoy on his cellphone but Tisoy isn’t answering.
‘Tsk.. mamaya na nga lang.’
‘Take your time kuya hehe.’
‘Iwan mo muna gamit mo sa taas. May guest room ako doon, gamitin mo muna.’
‘Salamat kuya.’
‘Pag akyat mo pangalawang pintuan sa kanan.’
‘Sige po.’
Tik went upstairs to his room. It was a decent room, white walls, two windows, and its airconditioned. The bed is good for one person but it was very comfortable. It has an empty
cabinet, though it is air-conditioned it still has an electric fan. At one corner of the room, there
lay a disassembled desktop pc. Tik thought to himself that he was very lucky. Now he has a
computer so he can do his dirty work. All he needs now is to assemble the disassembled pc. He
went down to talk to John about the pc.
‘Kuya?’
‘O bakit pre?’
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‘Tatanong ko lang po sana kung gumagana pa yung pc dun sa kwarto?’
‘Ay oo! Ayos pa yun kaya lang may kulang lang na parts pero ok na ok pa yun.’
‘Ano po kulang dun?’
‘Yung video card tsaka internal hard drive. Binaklas ko kasi yun para kunin yung mga parts na
yun para sa bago kong pc.’
‘Ahh sige po.’
‘Sabi sayo wag ka na mag po sa akin ehh.. hahaha tigas din ng ulo mo eh noh? Nga pala
nakausap ko na sa Tisoy, papadala niya na daw yung pero bukas. Bigay ko na lang mamaya
yung mga detalye sayo..’
‘Sige kuya ayusin ko muna mga gamit ko sa taas hehe’
‘Sige lang. Ayusin mo ng mabuti ahh.. dadating girlfriend ko mamaya ehh haha. Ayoko ng
makalat na bahay.’
Tik went back to his room so he can set up and fix his things. He put all his clothes in the
cabinet. After setting up and fixing the room, he changed his clothes and decided to take a
shower. But before that someone was calling from his cell phone, it was Tisoy.
‘Yo brad! Congrats at salamat sa nagawa mo hahaha appreciate it. Yung 10k mapapadala ko na
bukas gamit and Money Gram. Yung mga detalye bibigay ko na lang kay John ahh sa kanya mo
na lang kunin.’
‘Sige boss! Maraming salamat po.’
‘Wag ka mag-alala si John may mga papagawa din sayo yan, pero for now mag pahinga ka
muna. Alis na ako.’
‘Sige boss! Ingat po kayo.’
After the conversation, Tik finally took a shower. After he dressed up so he can go outside to
buy dinner. As he was about to go out, John told him that there is food in the fridge and he is
free to get as much as he likes. Tik was surprised by the hospitality of John. Tik still wanted to
buy food outside but John insists that he can get free food in the house. Tik has no choice but
to accept John’s suggestion. As Tik was eating John’s girlfriend knocked on the door.
‘Pare eto nga pala girlfriend ko, si Elissa. Elissa eto nga pala si Tik. Titira muna siya dito, may
mga trabaho pang gagawin yan hehe’
18
‘Hello Tik.’
‘Hi po.’
John and Elissa went out after 10 mins leaving Tik in-charge of the house for a while. Tik
washed the dishes after he finished up eating and went up to room rest. As he was going up, he
noticed that John’s desktop was still open. Being so curious, he went to see what was open in
John’s desktop. The only program opened in the desktop was a browser, more specifically
Google Chrome. The browser only had a single tab open. The tab has creepypasta.wiki.com
open. John was reading a story about Jeff the Killer. He was half way through when he was
reading the story. Tik, being a very curious man, decided that he would read the story. The
story goes like this.
Excerpt from a local Newspaper:
OMINOUS UNKNOWN
KILLER IS STILL
AT LARGE.
After weeks of unexplained murders, the ominous unknown killer is still on the rise. After little
evidence has been found, a young boy states that he survived one of the killer's attacks and
bravely tells his story.
"I had a bad dream and I woke up in the middle of the night," says the boy, "I saw that for some
reason the window was open, even though I remember it being closed before I went to bed. I
got up and shut it once more. Afterwards, I simply crawled under my covers and tried to get
back to sleep. That's when I had a strange feeling, like someone was watching me. I looked up,
and nearly jumped out of my bed. There, in the little ray of light, illuminating from between my
curtains, were a pair of two eyes. These weren't regular eyes; they were dark, ominous eyes.
They were bordered in black and... just plain out terrified me. That's when I saw his mouth. A
long, horrendous smile that made every hair on my body stand up. The figure stood there,
watching me. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he said it. A simple phrase, but said in a
way only a mad man could speak.
"He said, 'Go To Sleep.' I let out a scream, that's what sent him at me. He pulled up a knife;
aiming at my heart. He jumped on top of my bed. I fought him back; I kicked, I punched, I rolled
around, trying to knock him off me. That's when my dad busted in. The man threw the knife, it
went into my dad's shoulder. The man probably would've finished him off, if one of the
neighbors hadn't alerted the police.
19
"They drove into the parking lot, and ran towards the door. The man turned and ran down the
hallway. I heard a smash, like glass breaking. As I came out of my room, I saw the window that
was pointing towards the back of my house was broken. I looked out it to see him vanish into
the distance. I can tell you one thing, I will never forget that face. Those cold, evil eyes, and that
psychotic smile. They will never leave my head."
Police are still on the look for this man. If you see anyone that fits the description in this story,
please contact your local police department.
Jeff and his family had just moved into a new neighborhood. His dad had gotten a promotion at
work, and they thought it would be best to live in one of those "fancy" neighborhoods. Jeff and
his brother Liu couldn't complain though. A new, better house. What was not to love? As they
were getting unpacked, one of their neighbors came by.
"Hello," she said, "I'm Barbara; I live across the street from you. Well, I just wanted to introduce
my self and to introduce my son." She turns around and calls her son over. "Billy, these are our
new neighbors." Billy said hi and ran back to play in his yard.
"Well," said Jeff's mom, "I'm Margaret, and this is my husband Peter, and my two sons, Jeff and
Liu." They each introduced themselves, and then Barbara invited them to her son's birthday. Jeff
and his brother were about to object, when their mother said that they would love to. When Jeff
and his family are done packing, Jeff went up to his mom.
"Mom, why would you invite us to some kid's party? If you haven't noticed, I'm not some dumb
kid."
"Jeff," said his mother, "We just moved here; we should show that we want to spend time with
our neighbors. Now, we're going to that party, and that's final." Jeff started to talk, but stopped
himself, knowing that he couldn't do anything. Whenever his mom said something, it was final.
He walked up to his room and plopped down on his bed. He sat there looking at his ceiling when
suddenly, he got a weird feeling. Not so much a pain, but... a weird feeling. He dismissed it as
just some random feeling. He heard his mother call him down to get his stuff, and he walked
down to get it.
The next day, Jeff walked down stairs to get breakfast and got ready for school. As he sat there,
eating his breakfast, he once again got that feeling. This time it was stronger. It gave him a
slight tugging pain, but he once again dismissed it. As he and Liu finished breakfast, they walked
down to the bus stop. They sat there waiting for the bus, and then, all of a sudden, some kid on
a skateboard jumped over them, only inches above their laps. They both jumped back in
surprise. "Hey, what the hell?"
20
The kid landed and turned back to them. He kicked his skate board up and caught it with his
hands. The kid seems to be about twelve; one year younger than Jeff. He wears a Aeropostale
shirt and ripped blue jeans.
"Well, well, well. It looks like we got some new meat." Suddenly, two other kids appeared. One
was super skinny and the other was huge. "Well, since you're new here, I'd like to introduce
ourselves, over there is Keith." Jeff and Liu looked over to the skinny kid. He had a dopey face
that you would expect a sidekick to have. "And he's Troy." They looked over at the fat kid. Talk
about a tub of lard. This kid looked like he hadn't exercised since he was crawling.
"And I," said the first kid, "am Randy. Now, for all the kids in this neighborhood there is a small
price for bus fare, if you catch my drift." Liu stood up, ready to punch the lights out of the kid's
eyes when one of his friends pulled a knife on him. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, I had hoped you would be more
cooperative, but it seems we must do this the hard way." The kid walked up to Liu and took his
wallet out of his pocket. Jeff got that feeling again. Now, it was truly strong; a burning
sensation. He stood up, but Liu gestured him to sit down. Jeff ignored him and walked up to the
kid.
"Listen here you little punk, give back my bro's wallet or else." Randy put the wallet in his pocket
and pulled out his own knife.
"Oh? And what will you do?" Just as he finished the sentence, Jeff popped the kid in the nose. As
Randy reached for his face, Jeff grabbed the kid's wrist and broke it. Randy screamed and Jeff
grabbed the knife from his hand. Troy and Keith rushed Jeff, but Jeff was too quick. He threw
Randy to the ground. Keith lashed out at him, but Jeff ducked and stabbed him in the arm. Keith
dropped his knife and fell to the ground screaming. Troy rushed him too, but Jeff didn't even
need the knife. He just punched Troy straight in the stomach and Troy went down. As he fell, he
puked all over. Liu could do nothing but look in amazement at Jeff.
"Jeff how'd you?" that was all he said. They saw the bus coming and knew they'd be blamed for
the whole thing. So they started running as fast as they could. As they ran, they looked back and
saw the bus driver rushing over to Randy and the others. As Jeff and Liu made it to school, they
didn't dare tell what happened. All they did was sit and listen. Liu just thought of that as his
brother beating up a few kids, but Jeff knew it was more. It was something, scary. As he got that
feeling he felt how powerful it was, the urge to just, hurt someone. He didn't like how it
sounded, but he couldn't help feeling happy. He felt that strange feeling go away, and stay
away for the entire day of school. Even as he walked home due to the whole thing near the bus
stop, and how now he probably wouldn't be taking the bus anymore, he felt happy. When he got
home his parents asked him how his day was, and he said, in a somewhat ominous voice, "It
21
was a wonderful day." Next morning, he heard a knock at his front door. He walked down to
find two police officers at the door, his mother looking back at him with an angry look.
"Jeff, these officers tell me that you attacked three kids. That it wasn't regular fighting, and that
they were stabbed. Stabbed, son!" Jeff's gaze fell to the floor, showing his mother that it was
true.
"Mom, they were the ones who pulled the knives on me and Liu."
"Son," said one of the cops," We found three kids, two stabbed, one having a bruise on his
stomach, and we have witnesses proving that you fled the scene. Now, what does that tell us?"
Jeff knew it was no use. He could say him and Liu had been attacked, but then there was no
proof it was not them who attacked first. They couldn't say that they weren't fleeing, because
truth be told they were. So Jeff couldn't defend himself or Liu.
"Son, call down your brother." Jeff couldn't do it, since it was him who beat up all the kids.
"Sir, it...it was me. I was the one who beat up the kids. Liu tried to hold me back, but he couldn't
stop me." The cop looked at his partner and they both nod.
"Well kid, looks like a year in Juvy...
"Wait!" says Liu. They all looked up to see him holding a knife. The officers pulled their guns and
locked them on Liu.
"It was me, I beat up those little punks. Have the marks to prove it." He lifted up his sleeves to
reveal cuts and bruises, as if he was in a struggle.
"Son, just put the knife down," said the officer. Liu held up the knife and dropped it to the
ground. He put his hands up and walked over to the cops.
"No Liu, it was me! I did it!" Jeff had tears running down his face.
"Huh, poor bro. Trying to take the blame for what I did. Well, take me away." The police led Liu
out to the patrol car.
"Liu, tell them it was me! Tell them! I was the one who beat up those kids!" Jeff's mother put her
hands on his shoulders.
"Jeff please, you don't have to lie. We know it's Liu, you can stop." Jeff watched helplessly as the
cop car speeds off with Liu inside. A few minutes later Jeff's dad pulled into the driveway, seeing
Jeff's face and knowing something was wrong.
22
"Son, son what is it?" Jeff couldn't answer. His vocal cords were strained from crying. Instead,
Jeff's mother walked his father inside to break the bad news to him as Jeff wept in the driveway.
After an hour or so Jeff walked back in to the house, seeing that his parents were both shocked,
sad, and disappointed. He couldn't look at them. He couldn't see how they thought of Liu when
it was his fault. He just went to sleep, trying to get the whole thing off his mind. Two days went
by, with no word from Liu at JDC. No friends to hang out with. Nothing but sadness and guilt.
That is until Saturday, when Jeff is woke up by his mother, with a happy, sunshiny face.
"Jeff, it's the day." she said as she opened up the curtains and let light flood into his room.
"What, what's today?" asked Jeff as he stirs awake.
"Why, it's Billy's party." He was now fully awake.
"Mom, you're joking, right? You don't expect me to go to some kid's party after..." There was a
long pause.
"Jeff, we both know what happened. I think this party could be the thing that brightens up the
past days. Now, get dressed." Jeff's mother walked out of the room and downstairs to get ready
herself. He fought himself to get up. He picked out a random shirt and pair of jeans and walked
down stairs. He saw his mother and father all dressed up; his mother in a dress and his father in
a suit. He thought, why they would ever wear such fancy clothes to a kid's party?
"Son, is that all your going to wear?" said Jeff's mom.
"Better than wearing too much." he said. His mother pushed down the feeling to yell at him and
hid it with a smile.
"Now Jeff, we may be over-dressed, but this is how you go if you want to make an impression."
said his father. Jeff grunted and went back up to his room.
"I don't have any fancy clothes!" he yelled down stairs.
"Just pick out something." called his mother. He looked around in his closet for what he would
call fancy. He found a pair of black dress pants he had for special occasions and an undershirt.
He couldn't find a shirt to go with it though. He looked around, and found only striped and
patterned shirts. None of which go with dress pants. Finally he found a white hoodie and put it
on
"You're wearing that?" they both said. His mother looked at her watch. "Oh, no time to change.
Let's just go." She said as she herded Jeff and his father out the door. They crossed the street
over to Barbara and Billy's house. They knocked on the door and at it appeared that Barbara,
23
just like his parents, way over-dressed. As they walked inside all Jeff could see were adults, no
kids
"The kids are out in the yard. Jeff, how about you go and meet some of them?" said Barbara.
Jeff walked outside to a yard full of kids. They were running around in weird cowboy costumes
and shooting each other with plastic guns. He might as well be standing in a Toys R Us. Suddenly
a kid came up to him and handed him a toy gun and hat.
"Hey. Wanna pway?" he said.
"Ah, no kid. I'm way too old for this stuff." The kid looked at him with that weird puppydog face.
"Pwease?" said the kid. "Fine," said Jeff. He put on the hat and started to pretend shoot at the
kids. At first he thought it was totally ridiculous, but then he started to actually have fun. It
might not have been super cool, but it was the first time he had done something that took his
mind off of Liu. So he played with the kids for a while, until he heard a noise. A weird rolling
noise. Then it hit him. Randy, Troy, and Keith all jumped over the fence on their skateboards. Jeff
dropped the fake gun and ripped off the hat. Randy looked at Jeff with a burning hatred.
"Hello, Jeff, is it?" he said. "We have some unfinished business." Jeff saw his bruised nose." I
think we're even. I beat the crap out of you, and you get my brother sent to JDC."
Randy got an angry look in his eyes. "Oh no, I don't go for even, I go for winning. You may have
kicked our asses that one day, but not today." As he said that Randy rushed at Jeff. They both
fell to the ground. Randy punched Jeff in the nose, and Jeff grabbed him by the ears and head
butted him. Jeff pushed Randy off of him and both rose to their feet. Kids were screaming and
parents were running out of the house. Troy and Keith both pulled guns out of their pockets.
"No one interrupts or guts will fly!" they said. Randy pulled a knife on Jeff and stabbed it into his
shoulder.
Jeff screamed and fell to his knees. Randy started kicking him in the face. After three kicks Jeff
grabs his foot and twists it, causing Randy to fall to the ground. Jeff stood up and walked
towards the back door. Troy grabbed him.
"Need some help?" He picks Jeff up by the back of the collar and throws him through the patio
door. As Jeff tries to stand he is kicked down to the ground. Randy repeatedly starts kicking Jeff,
until he starts to cough up blood.
"Come on Jeff, fight me!" He picks Jeff up and throws him into the kitchen. Randy sees a bottle
of vodka on the counter and smashes the glass over Jeff's head.
24
"Fight!" He throws Jeff back into the living room.
"Come on Jeff, look at me!" Jeff glances up, his face riddled with blood. "I was the one who got
your brother sent to JDC! And now you're just gonna sit here and let him rot in there for a whole
year! You should be ashamed!" Jeff starts to get up.
"Oh, finally! you stand and fight!" Jeff is now to his feet, blood and vodka on his face. Once
again he gets that strange feeling, the one in which he hasn't felt for a while. "Finally. He's up!"
says Randy as he runs at Jeff. That's when it happens. Something inside Jeff snaps. His psyche is
destroyed, all rational thinking is gone, all he can do, is kill. He grabs Randy and pile drives him
to the ground. He gets on top of him and punches him straight in the heart. The punch causes
Randy's heart to stop. As Randy gasps for breath. Jeff hammers down on him. Punch after
punch, blood gushes from Randy's body, until he takes one final breath, and dies.
Everyone is looking at Jeff now. The parents, the crying kids, even Troy and Keith. Although they
easily break from their gaze and point their guns at Jeff. Jeff see's the guns trained on him and
runs for the stairs. As he runs Troy and Keith let out fire on him, each shot missing. Jeff runs up
the stairs. He hears Troy and Keith follow up behind. As they let out their final rounds of bullets
Jeff ducks into the bathroom. He grabs the towel rack and rips it off the wall. Troy and Keith
race in, knives ready.
Troy swings his knife at Jeff, who backs away and bangs the towel rack into Troy's face. Troy
goes down hard and now all that's left is Keith. He is more agile than Troy though, and ducks
when Jeff swings the towel rack. He dropped the knife and grabbed Jeff by the neck. He pushed
him into the wall. A thing of bleach fell down on top of him from the top shelf. It burnt both of
them and they both started to scream. Jeff wiped his eyes as best as he could. He pulled back
the towel rack and swung it straight into Keith's head. As he lay there, bleeding to death, he let
out an ominous smile.
"What's so funny?" asked Jeff. Keith pulled out a lighter and switched it on. "What's funny," he
said, "Is that you're covered in bleach and alcohol." Jeff's eyes widened as Keith threw the
lighter at him. As soon as the flame made contact with him, the flames ignited the alcohol in the
vodka. While the alcohol burned him, the bleach bleached his skin. Jeff let out a terrible screech
as he caught on fire. He tried to roll out the fire but it was no use, the alcohol had made him a
walking inferno. He ran down the hall, and fell down the stairs. Everybody started screaming as
they saw Jeff, now a man on fire, drop to the ground, nearly dead. The last thing Jeff saw was
his mother and the other parents trying to extinguish the flame. That's when he passed out.
When Jeff woke he had a cast wrapped around his face. He couldn't see anything, but he felt a
cast on his shoulder, and stitches all over his body. He tried to stand up, but he realized that
there was some tube in his arm, and when he tried to get up it fell out, and a nurse rushed in
25
"I don't think you can get out of bed just yet." she said as she put him back in his bed and reinserted the tube. Jeff sat there, with no vision, no idea of what his surroundings were. Finally,
after hours, he heard his mother.
"Honey, are you okay?" she asked. Jeff couldn't answer though, his face was covered, and he
was unable to speak. "Oh honey, I have great news. After all the witnesses told the police that
Randy confessed of trying to attack you, they decided to let Liu go." This made Jeff almost bolt
up, stopping halfway, remembering the tube coming out of his arm. "He'll be out by tomorrow,
and then you two will be able to be together again."
Jeff's mother hugs Jeff and says her goodbyes. The next couple of weeks were those where Jeff
was visited by his family. Then came the day where his bandages were to be removed. His family
were all there to see it, what he would look like. As the doctors unwrapped the bandages from
Jeff's face everyone was on the edge of their seats. They waited until the last bandage holding
the cover over his face was almost removed.
"Let's hope for the best," said the doctor. He quickly pulls the cloth; letting the rest fall from
Jeff's face
Jeff's mother screams at the sight of his face. Liu and Jeff's dad stare awe-struck at his face.
"What? What happened to my face?" Jeff said. He rushed out of bed and ran to the bathroom.
He looked in the mirror and saw the cause of the distress. His face. It...it's horrible. His lips were
burnt to a deep shade of red. His face was turned into a pure white color, and his hair singed
from brown to black. He slowly put his hand to his face. It had a sort of leathery feel to it now.
He looked back at his family then back at the mirror.
"Jeff," said Liu, "It's not that bad...."
"Not that bad?" said Jeff," It's perfect!" His family were equally surprised. Jeff started laughing
uncontrollably His parents noticed that his left eye and hand were twitching.
"Uh... Jeff, are you okay?"
"Okay? I've never felt more happy! Ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaa, look at me. This face goes perfectly
with me!" He couldn't stop laughing. He stroked his face feeling it. Looking at it in the mirror.
What caused this? Well, you may recall that when Jeff was fighting Randy something in his
mind, his sanity, snapped. Now he was left as a crazy killing machine, that is, his parents didn't
know.
"Doctor," said Jeff's mom, "Is my son... alright, you know. In the head?"
26
"Oh yes, this behavior is typical for patients that have taken very large amounts of pain killers. If
his behavior doesn't change in a few weeks, bring him back here, and we'll give him a
psychological test."
"Oh thank you doctor." Jeff's mother went over to Jeff." Jeff, sweety. It's time to go."
Jeff looks away from the mirror, his face still formed into a crazy smile. "Kay mommy, ha ha
haaaaaaaaaaaa!" his mother took him by the shoulder and took him to get his clothes.
"This is what came in," said the lady at the desk. Jeff's mom looked down to see the black dress
pants and white hoodie her son wore. Now they were clean of blood and now stitched together.
Jeff's mother led him to his room and made him put his clothes on. Then they left, not knowing
that this was their final day of life.
Later that night, Jeff's mother woke to a sound coming from the bathroom. It sounded as if
someone was crying. She slowly walked over to see what it was. When she looked into the
bathroom she saw a horrendous sight. Jeff had taken a knife and carved a smile into his cheeks.
"Jeff, what are you doing?" asked his mother.
Jeff looked over to his mother. "I couldn't keep smiling mommy. It hurt after awhile. Now, I can
smile forever. Jeff's mother noticed his eyes, ringed in black.
"Jeff, your eyes!" His eyes were seemingly never closing.
"I couldn't see my face. I got tired and my eyes started to close. I burned out the eyelids so I
could forever see myself; my new face." Jeff's mother slowly started to back away, seeing that
her son was going insane. "What's wrong mommy? Aren't I beautiful?
"Yes son," she said, "Yes you are. L-let me go get daddy, so he can see your face." She ran into
the room and shook Jeff's dad from his sleep. "Honey, get the gun we....." She stopped as she
saw Jeff in the doorway, holding a knife.
"Mommy, you lied." That's the last thing they hear as Jeff rushes them with the knife, gutting
both of them.
His brother Liu woke up, startled by some noise. He didn't hear anything else, so he just shut his
eyes and tried to go back to sleep. As he was on the border of slumber, he got the strangest
feeling that someone was watching him. He looked up, before Jeff's hand covered his mouth. He
slowly raised the knife ready to plunge it into Liu. Liu thrashed here and there trying to escape
Jeff's grip.
"Shhhhhhh," Jeff said. "Just go to sleep."
27
Tik was felt was scared to death after he read the story but at the same time he had fun
because he thought it was very thrilling. He wanted to read more. But John and Elissa might
come home early. He really wanted to read more. But as he was scrolling for more stories at
creepypasta, John and Elissa knocked at the front door. Tik went down to open the door for the
couple. As he opened the door, he had a feeling that John and Elissa were fighting. He could
feel the tension as the couple went inside the house. They weren’t talking to each other. Elissa
immediately went to John’s room and locked the door. Tik asked John what’s the problem.
‘Kuya, ano nangyari?’
‘Ehh eto.. nagaway kami.’
‘Bakit?’
‘Ehh medyo meron kaming hindi pagkakaintindihan.’
‘Pero ok lang naman kayo?’
‘Normal lang naman yung mga ganyan sa relasyon. Pa-cooldown muna natin si girlfriend hehe’
‘Ehh ano na gagawin niyo?’
‘Kakausapin ko na lang siya bukas.’
‘Mukang ni-lock ni ate yung pintuan ehh.’
‘Mukang matutulog ako sa sala hahahaha’
‘Dun na lang kaya kayo sa kwarto ko..’
‘hahaha ano ka ba Tik? Kwarto mo yan hahaha hindi kita idadamay sa away namin hahaha!’
‘Sige kayo bahala hahaha’
‘hahaha!’
‘SIge akyat na ako kuya.’
‘Sige matulog ka na. Kakausapan pa pala kita bukas. At ako na lang muna mag-aayos dito
hahahaha’
Tik went upstairs to his room. The door to John’s room is still locked from the looks of it. He
locked the door to his room, opened the air conditioner, and went straight to bed. Tik texted
28
Bok that he wanted to see the other guys. Bok didn’t reply. Maybe he’s already asleep. As he
lay on his bed, he couldn’t help that he wanted to read more stories from creepypasta. So he
got his phone, turned on the wifi and opened creepypasta on his phone’s browser. He found a
story entitled “The Russian Sleep Experiment”.
29
III.
Can’t Sleep
Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an
experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor
their oxygen intake so the gas didn't kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was
before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized
windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep
on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a
month.
The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.
Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised
(falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days.
Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk
about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations
took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.
After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to
where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each
other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes.
Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over
their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this
was an effect of the gas itself...
After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly
yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was
only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn
his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted
to it... or rather didn't react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the
second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non-screaming captives took the books apart,
smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes.
The screaming promptly stopped.
So did the whispering to the microphones.
After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they
were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people
inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it
30
was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise.
On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to
get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke
any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.
They announced: "We are opening the chamber to test the microphones; step away from the
door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate
freedom."
To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: "We no longer want to be
freed."
Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to
provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at
midnight on the fifteenth day.
The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices
from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the
life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to
retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when
they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly
call the state that any of them in 'life.'
The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from
the dead test subject's thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber,
blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how
much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four 'surviving' test
subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction
of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand,
not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles
of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.
The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the
heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the
ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and
organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around
the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen
to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was
their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.
31
Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to
return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the
chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall
asleep...
To everyone's surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed
from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another
was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of
the subject's teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed
suicide in the weeks following the incident.
In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost
immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He
was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought
like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat
for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular
system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes,
struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word "MORE" over and over, weaker
and weaker, until he finally fell silent.
The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the
two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake...
The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility
had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it
was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for
the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out
to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on
one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only
a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and
closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it
was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still
attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be
subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.
The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords
destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head
violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes
when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react
for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them
32
with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be
medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated
that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met
hers.
When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly,
attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the
surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. "Keep
cutting."
The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well.
Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon
found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once
paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic
cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape
their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The
researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own
guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.
Only one response was given: "I must remain awake."
All three subject's restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber
awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath
of their military 'benefactors' for having failed the stated goals of their project considered
euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential,
and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers
strongly objected, but were overruled.
In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG
monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone's surprise all
three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was
obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of
subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining
his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for
something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking
rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his
brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined
inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal.
As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip
33
shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that
of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.
The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His
brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The
commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3
researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point
blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as
well.
He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members
of the medical and research team fled the room. "I won't be locked in here with these things!
Not with you!" he screamed at the man strapped to the table. "WHAT ARE YOU?" he demanded.
"I must know!"
The subject smiled.
"Have you forgotten so easily?" The subject asked. "We are you. We are the madness that lurks
within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what
you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when
you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread."
The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject's heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the
subject weakly choked out, "So... nearly... free..."
It is 12:30 AM and Tik hasn’t fallen asleep yet. He is too scared to fall asleep but he won’t stop
reading another story from creepypasta. He thought to himself that he would one last story
before going to bed. It took him awhile before finding a good story. As he scrolled down, he
found a curious story with the title “The Expressionless”. He was having second thoughts about
reading that particular pasta but he thought to himself ‘fuck it’. It was very short but he still
read it.
In June 1972, a woman appeared in Cedar Senai hospital in nothing but a white, blood-covered
gown.
Now this, in itself, should not be too surprising as people often have accidents nearby and come
to the nearest hospital for medical attention, but there were two things that caused people who
saw her to vomit and flee in terror.
The first being that she wasn't exactly human. She resembled something close to a mannequin,
but had the dexterity and fluidity of a normal human being. Her face was as flawless as a
mannequins, devoid of eyebrows and smeared in make-up.
34
There was a kitten clamped in her jaws so unnaturally tight that no teeth could be seen, and the
blood was still squirting out over her gown and onto the floor. She then pulled it out of her
mouth, tossed it aside and collapsed.
From the moment she stepped through the entrance to when she was taken to a hospital room
and cleaned up before being prepped for sedation, she was completely calm, expressionless and
motionless. The doctors thought it best to restrain her until the authorities could arrive and she
did not protest. They were unable to get any kind of response from her and most staff members
felt too uncomfortable to look directly at her for more than a few seconds.
But the second the staff tried to sedate her, she fought back with extreme force. Two members
of staff had to hold her down as her body rose up on the bed with that same, blank expression.
She turned her emotionless eyes towards the male doctor and did something unusual. She
smiled.
As she did, the female doctor screamed and let go out of shock. In the woman's mouth were not
human teeth, but long, sharp spikes. Too long for her mouth to close fully without causing any
damage…
The male doctor stared back at her for a moment before asking "What in the hell are you?"
She cracked her neck down to her shoulder to observe him, still smiling.
There was a long pause, the security had been alerted and could be heard coming down the
hallway.
As he heard them approach, she darted forward, sinking her teeth into the front of his throat,
ripping out his jugular and letting him fall to the floor, gasping for air as he choked on his own
blood.
She stood up and leaned over him, her face coming dangerously close to his as the life faded
from his eyes.
She leaned closer and whispered in his ear.
"I... am... God..."
The doctor's eyes filled with fear as he watched her calmly walk away to greet the security men.
His last ever sight would be watching her feast on them one by one.
The female doctor who survived the incident named her "The Expressionless".
There was never a sighting of her again.
35
At 12:45 AM, Tik finished reading the story but he still can’t fall asleep. He decided to stop
reading and try to get some sleep. 30 minutes have passed and Tik is still wide awake. He felt
like he needed to pee but he can’t because he was thinking about the Expressionless. He
decided to ignore his bladder’s call for help because the thought of the Expressionless is still
lingering in his head. 5 minutes have passed, he can’t take it anymore. He decided to pee, as he
went slowly down the stairs he couldn’t keep the Expressionless’ face off of his head. As he
went down the stairs, bumps into someone..
‘AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!’
‘Hoy!!! Gago, ako to!’
‘Ayyy.. HAHAHAHA pasensya na.. medyo jumpy ako ngaun..’
‘Anong nangyari ba sayo?’
As Tik was about to answer John’s question, a loud voice came from John’s room upstairs.
‘Hoy! Anong nangyayari diyan? Ang ingay niyo. Bukas na kayo maglandian diyan sa baba.’
‘Huh? Sorry po ate nagulat lang po ako.’
*BLAG!!
Elissa slammed the door shut.
‘hahahaha!’
‘Anong nakakatawa kuya?’
‘Wala lang natatawa lang ako hahahaha. Medyo malabo at weird yung mga pangyayari
ngayon hahaha.’
‘Ahh..’
‘Ano nga pala nangyari sayo ulit?’
‘Medyo naadik ako sa isang website.’
‘Anong website yun?’
‘Creepypasta’
‘Ahh yung puro horror hahahaha!’
‘...’
36
‘Wag ka matakot dun hahaha hindi totoo yung mga kwento dun. Crowd sourcing site kasi yun.
Kung sino sino lang ang nagsusulat dun. For entertainment lang naman yung website na yan.’
‘Ayy ganun ba?’
‘Wag ka magpapaniwala dun hahaha kahit ako nagbabasa ako dyan ehh.’
‘Bakit?’
‘Wala katuwaan lang. Ang saya kaya mag basa ng horror. At nakikita mo ang creativity ng tao
sa pag gawa ng storya.’
‘Sige teka lang. Ihi lang ako.’
‘Go lang brad.’
As Tik went inside the rest room, he felt uneasy, maybe it’s because he still can’t get the stories
out of his head especially the Expressionless. He was getting goose bumps. After peeing and
washing his hands he went outside.
‘Tik, eto gatas para makatulog ka.’
‘Effective to?’
‘Oo naman hahaha tried and tested.’
‘hahaha sige salamat ahh.’
‘Ano nga pala ang mga nabasa mo na sa creepypasta?’
‘Yung pinaka una ung Jeff the Killer tapos..’
‘HAHAHA ginamit mo desktop ko no?’
‘Oo, sorry ahh. Na curious lang talaga ako.’
‘Ok lang yan pre, di mo naman siguro sinira yun at nilagyan ng virus di ba?’
‘Syempre hindi ahh.’
‘HAHAHA biro lang hehe maganda yung Jeff the Killer hahaha. Ang solid ng kwento. Ano pa
mga nabasa mo?‘
‘Maganda nga yung Jeff the Killer, sobrang imba hahaha yung nabasa ko pa ung The Russian
Sleep Experiment at The Expressionless.’
37
‘Shit ka hahaha nakakatakot kaya yung the Expressionless hahaha nung nabasa ko yung di ako
nakatulog ng isang lingo ehh hahaha. Gg ka boy. hahahaha’
‘Hay nako! Ubusin ko na lang tong gatas at aakyat na ako.. Gustong gusto ko na makatulog..’
‘Wag ka kasi magbabasa ng mga horror sa gabi. Gg ka nyan ano ka ba?’
‘Ang sarap kasi basahin, nakakathrill at ang ganda ng mga storya.’
‘Bahala ka Tik hahaha basta ayoko lang makita at marinig kang umiiyak diyan sa kwarto mo
ahh hahaha’
‘Hindi ako iyakin..’
‘Basta bahala ka hahahaha’
Tik finished drinking his milk and went up to his bedroom. He really wanted to go to sleep. 1:30
AM, Tik thought to himself that if he read another story he might get sleepy. He will have to
choose a story with a boring topic. He found one, “Squidward’s Suicide”. It doesn’t sound scary
because it is based on a cartoon so he decides to read it.
I just want to start off by saying if you want an answer at the end, prepare to be disappointed.
There just isn't one.
I was an intern at Nickelodeon Studios for a year in 2005 for my degree in animation. It wasn't
paid of course, most internships aren't, but it did have some perks beyond education. To adults
it might not seem like a big one, but most kids at the time would go crazy over it.
Now, since I worked directly with the editors and animators, I got to view the new episodes days
before they aired. I'll get right to it without giving too many unnecessary details. They had very
recently made the SpongeBob movie and the entire staff was somewhat sapped of creativity so
it took them longer to start up the season. But the delay lasted longer for more upsetting
reasons. There was a problem with the series 4 premiere that set everyone and everything back
for several months.
Me and two other interns were in the editing room along with the lead animators and sound
editors for the final cut. We received the copy that was supposed to be "Fear of a Krabby Patty"
and gathered around the screen to watch. Now, given that it isn't final yet animators often put
up a mock title card, sort of an inside joke for us, with phony, often times lewd titles, such as
"How sex doesn't work" instead of "Rock-a-bye-Bivalve" when SpongeBob and Patrick adopt a
sea scallop. Nothing particularly funny but work related chuckles. So when we saw the title card
"Squidward's Suicide" we didn't think it more than a morbid joke.
38
One of the interns did a small throat laugh at it. The happy-go-lucky music plays as is normal.
The story began with Squidward practicing his clarinet, hitting a few sour notes like normal. We
hear SpongeBob laughing outside and Squidward stops, yelling at him to keep it down as he has
a concert that night and needs to practice. SpongeBob says okay and goes to see Sandy with
Patrick. The bubbles splash screen comes up and we see the ending of Squidward's concert. This
is when things began to seem off.
While playing, a few frames repeat themselves, but the sound doesn't (at this point sound is
synced up with animation, so, yes, that's not common) but when he stops playing, the sound
finishes as if the skip never happened. There is slight murmuring in the crowd before they begin
to boo him. Not normal cartoon booing that is common in the show, but you could very clearly
hear malice in it. Squidward's in full frame and looks visibly afraid. The shot goes to the crowd,
with SpongeBob in center frame, and he too is booing, very much unlike him. That isn't the
oddest thing, though. What is odd is everyone had hyper realistic eyes. Very detailed. Clearly not
shots of real people's eyes, but something a bit more real than CGI. The pupils were red. Some of
us looked at each other, obviously confused, but since we weren't the writers, we didn't question
its appeal to children yet.
The shot goes to Squidward sitting on the edge of his bed, looking very forlorn. The view out of
his porthole window is of a night sky so it isn't very long after the concert. The unsettling part is
at this point there is no sound. Literally no sound. Not even the feedback from the speakers in
the room. It's as if the speakers were turned off, though their status showed them working
perfectly. He just sat there, blinking, in this silence for about 30 seconds, then he started to sob
softly. He put his hands (tentacles) over his eyes and cried quietly for a full minute more, all the
while a sound in the background very slowly growing from nothing to barely audible. It sounded
like a slight breeze through a forest.
The screen slowly begins to zoom in on his face. By slow I mean it's only noticeable if you look at
shots 10 seconds apart side by side. His sobbing gets louder, more full of hurt and anger. The
screen then twitches a bit, as if it twists in on itself, for a split second then back to normal. The
wind-through-the-trees sound gets slowly louder and more severe, as if a storm is brewing
somewhere. The eerie part is this sound, and Squidward's sobbing, sounded real, as if the sound
wasn't coming from the speakers but as if the speakers were holes the sound was coming
through from the other side. As good as sound as the studio likes to have, they don't purchase
the equipment to be that good to produce sound of that quality.
Below the sound of the wind and sobbing, very faint, something sounded like laughing. It came
at odd intervals and never lasted more than a second so you had a hard time pinning it (we
watched this show twice, so pardon me if things sound too specific but I've had time to think
39
about them). After 30 seconds of this, the screen blurred and twitched violently and something
flashed over the screen, as if a single frame was replaced.
The lead animation editor paused and rewound frame by frame. What we saw was horrible. It
was a still photo of a dead child. He couldn't have been more than 6. The face was mangled and
bloodied, one eye dangling over his upturned face, popped. He was naked down to his
underwear, his stomach crudely cut open and his entrails laying beside him. He was laying on
some pavement that was probably a road.
The most upsetting part was that there was a shadow of the photographer. There was no crime
tape, no evidence tags or markers, and the angle was completely off for a shot designed to be
evidence. It would seem the photographer was the person responsible for the child's death. We
were of course mortified, but pressed on, hoping that it was just a sick joke.
The screen flipped back to Squidward, still sobbing, louder than before, and half body in frame.
There was now what appeard to be blood running down his face from his eyes. The blood was
also done in a hyper realistic style, looking as if you touched it you'd get blood on your fingers.
The wind sounded now as if it were that of a gale blowing through the forest; there were even
snapping sounds of branches. The laughing, a deep baritone, lasting at longer intervals and
coming more frequently. After about 20 seconds, the screen again twisted and showed a single
frame photo.
The editor was reluctant to go back, we all were, but he knew he had to. This time the photo
was that of what appeared to be a little girl, no older than the first child. She was laying on her
stomach, her barrettes in a pool of blood next to her. Her left eye was too popped out and
popped, naked except for underpants. Her entrails were piled on top of her above another crude
cut along her back. Again the body was on the street and the photographer's shadow was
visible, very similar in size and shape to the first. I had to choke back vomit and one intern, the
only female in the room, ran out. The show resumed.
About 5 seconds after this second photo played, Squidward went silent, as did all sound, like it
was when this scene started. He put his tentacles down and his eyes were now done in hyper
realism like the others were in the beginning of this episode. They were bleeding, bloodshot, and
pulsating. He just stared at the screen, as if watching the viewer. After about 10 seconds, he
started sobbing, this time not covering his eyes. The sound was piercing and loud, and most fear
inducing of all is his sobbing was mixed with screams.
Tears and blood were dripping down his face at a heavy rate. The wind sound came back, and so
did the deep voiced laughing, and this time the still photo lasted for a good 5 frames.
40
The animator was able to stop it on the 4th and backed up. This time the photo was of a boy,
about the same age, but this time the scene was different. The entrails were just being pulled
out from a stomach wound by a large hand, the right eye popped and dangling, blood trickling
down it. The animator proceeded. It was hard to believe, but the next one was different but we
couldn't tell what. He went on to the next, same thing. He want back to the first and played
them quicker and I lost it. I vomited on the floor, the animating and sound editors gasping at the
screen. The 5 frames were not as if they were 5 different photos, they were played out as if they
were frames from a video. We saw the hand slowly lift out the guts, we saw the kid's eyes focus
on it, we even saw two frames of the kid beginning to blink.
The lead sound editor told us to stop, he had to call in the creator to see this. Mr. Hillenburg
arrived within about 15 minutes. He was confused as to why he was called down there, so the
editor just continued the episode. Once the few frames were shown, all screaming, all sound
again stopped. Squidward was just staring at the viewer, full frame of the face, for about 3
seconds. The shot quickly panned out and that deep voice said "DO IT" and we see in
Squidward's hands a shotgun. He immediately puts the gun in his mouth and pulls the trigger.
Realistic blood and brain matter splatters the wall behind him, and his bed, and he flies back
with the force. The last 5 seconds of this episode show his body on the bed, on his side, one eye
dangling on what's left of his head above the floor, staring blankly at it. Then the episode ends.
Mr. Hillenburg is obviously angry at this. He demanded to know what the heck was going on.
Most people left the room at this point, so it was just a handful of us to watch it again. Viewing
the episode twice only served to imprint the entirety of it in my mind and cause me horrible
nightmares. I'm sorry I stayed.
The only theory we could think of was the file was edited by someone in the chain from the
drawing studio to here. The CTO was called in to analyze when it happened. The analysis of the
file did show it was edited over by new material. However, the timestamp of it was a mere 24
seconds before we began viewing it. All equipment involved was examined for foreign software
and hardware as well as glitches, as if the time stamp may have glitched and showed the wrong
time, but everything checked out fine. We don't know what happened and to this day nobody
does.
There was an investigation due to the nature of the photos, but nothing came of it. No child
seen was identified and no clues were gathered from the data involved nor physical clues in the
photos. I never believed in unexplainable phenomena before, but now that I have something
happen and can't prove anything about it beyond anecdotal evidence, I think twice about
things.
41
2:00 AM, Tik finished the story, he wasn’t that scared, just a little creeped out. He set aside his
phone so he could sleep. 2:30 AM, Tik still couldn’t sleep so he thought to himself, ‘potek isa
pang storya..’. Tik got his phone, turned on his wifi and scanned for one last story at
creepypasta. He found a sequel to Jeff the Killer, he was having second thoughts about reading
it but thought to himself, ‘ohh what the hell’. He opened the story, the title is “Jeff is Back”.
The following story was written by a detective whom, after analyzing video evidence, witness
accounts, and the video claimed to have been watched, developed a story. This is that story.
It was late at night on a typical Tuesday evening. I was surfing the internet as I had two large
coffees from my local coffee shop earlier that day and was unable to sleep.
After watching pointless YouTube video after YouTube video, I came across a strange title in the
related videos bar. None of the characters were of the English language; however, the shapes of
the characters seemed to resemble words, although I couldn't quite decipher them. Curious, I
clicked on the video.
I suddenly began to hear various creaks and groans coming from my house. I whirled around
and grabbed a nearby baseball bat, ready for a fatal battle. To my surprise, there were no
intruders in the house, nor any signs of a forced entry. All the doors were also locked. Figuring I
was just going crazy, I shrugged my shoulders and lazily walked back to my room.
I had spent a lot of money on a high bandwidth connection, so I was perplexed that the video I
had clicked on had not loaded yet. I impatiently clicked the video four more times in an attempt
to bring it up. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the page finally loaded. The
background was black and it completely hid all of the text, except for the username of the
uploader and the description, both in crimson red. The username of the uploader was
"NightmareSLUMBER" and the description read as such:
How ignorant of you.
You are unaware of my demonic presence in your life.
I will destroy everything you stand for.
Worthless coward.
I am always watching you.
And soon you will come to live with me...
Forever...
42
Figuring this was simply the idiocy of a twelve year old, I did not heed the danger I was in. The
video began with a picture of an abandoned mental asylum (Later found out to be Denbigh
asylum). The picture was a long, dark, and tattered corridor extending past the viewer's visual
field. The left wall of the corridor had windows separated by columns. The corridor was bathed
in an eerie moonlight, only broken by the shadows of the columns. The darkness of the corridor
was a pure black, the likes of which I had never seen. I got the vibe that the asylum was hastily
abandoned and never cleaned up.
For the first minute of the video, it was simply a still frame of the corridor. There was no sound
nor movement. At approximately 1:13 of the video, I noticed a slow but definite movement at
the very end of the corridor. The had a human stance but walked very unusually, most
noticeably with it's head pointed straight at the ground. The creature accelerated steadily as the
video progressed, eventually breaking into a full run. The creature ran head first into the
camera, knocking it over. Simultaneously, I heard a very loud bang at the door. There was only
one, and it sounded like someone had just run into the door.
I jumped up and grabbed the bat again, when I heard my computer make an error sound. The
computer then bluescreened at that point, saying it shut down for safety reasons. The screen
then proceeded to make note of the fact that an unknown hacker had been obtaining
information about my whereabouts. My antivirus program ran a trace of the hacker's IP
address, and came back with a city in Northern Wales; specifically, the hack had been made
from an abandoned mental asylum.
Then the power went out. At this point, I became extremely intimidated. My eyes welled up with
water as my breathing accelerated. I began to hear someone groaning in pain outside the door.
I knew it was a mistake to go look, but I decided to anyway. When I glanced through the
peephole, there was nobody outside the door. I could still hear the groaning though. No way in
hell was I opening that door.
I flew into a panic attack and immediately attempted to contact police; however, I simply got a
busy tone on both the landline and my cell phone. I ran back up to my computer to see if I could
hook it up to a generator to ask for help that way, when I noticed that the computer screen was
still on. In giant red text upon a black screen, it read, "GO TO SLEEP".
A piercing scream then rang out. It sounded like someone was dying. I raced to the kitchen and
drew two knives out of a drawer. This was real. This was actually happening. The screams got
louder and more desperate. Under the screams, I began to hear a faint but distinct hysterical
laughter.
I ran about the house trying to figure out what was going on. I then heard a sobbing coming
from a closet near my computer room. My skin ran cold as I grasped the doorknob. It was cold
43
to the touch. I should have said something before opening the door, but I didn't have the
common sense to do so. I whipped the door open to see a young girl, dead and bloody, crumpled
in a heap in my closet.
Her stomach had been ripped open and her entrails pulled out. She was entirely naked and
coated completely in blood. The wall suddenly was illuminated with a red light. I noticed that
something was written in blood on the wall.
"You should have heeded the warning. Time to go to sleep."
I whirled around and saw the figure in the video, head down and everything. I froze in fear. With
one sudden movement, almost as if I was watching a video that had skipped a few frames, the
figure twisted it's head and looked at me. Then everything went black.
Detective's note:
The victim's body was found in a similar state to that of the young girl in the closet. Despite
numerous blood tests, we could not identify the girl. In fact, due to the lack of a missing person's
report, the fact that no one came forward to claim her remains or to try to solve the case of the
murder, and because no blood test matched anyone we tested, it seemed like the girl never
really existed.
We have confirmed that the hacking came from the abandoned mental hospital; however, there
is no explanation as to how this was timed so close together. We have issued an arrest warrant
but no officer wants to enter the ruins in fear of his or her life. The only break we got was a
witness sighting of an extremely unusual and frightening creature running into the hospital a
few days later. From the witness' testimony, we noticed a shocking similarity between the face
of the deranged mental hospital inhabitant and the following image, taken from a site filled
with horror stories, with the words "GO TO SLEEP" captioned above it.
Numerous murders like this have occurred since, and every single one of the victims has been
noted to watch the video a few minutes before the homicide is committed. YouTube officials
have tried to remove the video; however, every moderator that tries ends up getting brutally
murdered. The case is still unsolved.
Detective's note 2:
After further researching the case, a few discoveries have been made. First, while I have been
unable to find the source of the video, last minute accounts of the killer's victims have provided
enough descriptive evidence to point to the image used as the background for the video.
44
Although this is a JPEG image and thus by nature is a still image, rumor has it that, if you stare
into the picture long enough, the image begins to twist and contort. Continue staring, and you
can see a creature beginning to run towards the camera. No one has watched the image long
enough to see the creature come close, but enough visual evidence is there to assume that it is
the same person seen in the video. The image can be found below. View at your own risk, for
your life may be at stake.
In addition, I have been searching for more information regarding the killer. To my horror, I have
found a set of stories online regarding one "Jeff the Killer". The stories dictate a serial killer who
develops his psychopathic tendencies at the onset of his teenage years, eventually killing
everybody in his immediate family.
The most shocking aspect of the story is that Jeff killed his victims in the same brutal way as
seen with the Denbigh asylum killer, even going to the extent of both killers communicating "GO
TO SLEEP" before murdering their victims. The most frightening aspect, however, is that the
image provided for Jeff the Killer is the exact same as the image provided by witnesses for the
Denbigh Asylum killer, leading investigators to believe that they are in fact the same person. For
further reading, simply search "Jeff the Killer" online and read at your own risk.
The most terrifying fact of all, though, lies in my personal experience. After writing this report, I
heard strange sounds throughout my home. Figuring it was nothing, I continued doing research
on Jeff. The banging noises got louder and louder. I searched outside, thinking maybe a bird was
injured. As I stepped to my door, however, I noticed movement in the window. I immediately
attempted to phone police, but got a busy signal. Concerned, I put the phone down and looked
toward the door, only to see Jeff staring directly at me with those cold, dead eyes and that
horrific, disfigured face. His smile was the most eerie thing I have ever seen. I immediately
pulled out my gun and began shooting. Jeff took off into the night.
I know I am in danger, so I have set up constant surveillance around my home to protect myself.
I still see bright flashes of light and hear banging noises around my home, along with the rare
but still horrifying laughter of which only a true psychotic serial killer can provide. I don't know
how much longer it will be until we catch him, but, if he keeps making these mistakes, then we'll
have a solid identity and an air-tight case. I feel we are on the brink of taking him in, for I keep
hearing laughter and banging sounds that are escalating in volume, and I also am seeing an odd
orb of light in the distance. I have radioed fellow police to the scene, but the radio has gone
dead. The light is getting closer, and I have my gun ready. It's him. I can see his face. Time tot
mntoujiujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujyhjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj
jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj/
45
Hello everyone. My name is Jeff. I don't like that this story is being published, but oh well. It's not
like any of you could catch a demon of my caliber. The detective is now dead. The journal is
over. And it's quite hilarious, because, in viewing this document, I have logged every single one
of your IP addresses and know exactly where you are. For example: One of you works at a
Cousin's on Drexel boulevard, one of you lives in Burbank, one of you lives on East avenue, one
of you goes to University and has a roommate named Becky, one of you is going to Iowa, one of
you goes to is quite the whiz at the piano... The list goes on and on.
I know where you work. I know your friends. Your family. Your loved ones. I know everything.
Soon, all of that will be taken from you. Upon reading this message from me, you should start
hearing odd noises and feel a sense of fear and dysphoria wash over you. You will become
anxious and frantic for no logical reason. The banging isn't the building you reside in. It's
something else. Something quite sinister. Something that wants your blood. If I don't get you, I
will get those you love and care about. You, the one shivering in your chair and has a girlfriend
named Jessica with whom you live with... She's mine.
You aren't safe. Heh. Hahahaha. AHAHAHAHHH!!!!
I think it's time for you to go to sleep. :) I'll be in shortly.
Sincerely,
Jeffrey the Killer.
P.S. Whomever is the one that's a junior at Kettle Moraine... You're cute. I'll take my time with
you.
After reading that last sentence, Tik finally went to sleep at 3:00 AM leaving his wifi on..
46
IV.
The Plan
8:34 AM, Tik is still asleep when a knock on the door woke him up.
‘Tik!! Gising ka na pare ko!’
‘Zzzz.... Teka lang hehe’
‘May pagkain na dito sa baba, nagluto si Elissa ng breakfast.’
‘Sige sige, teka lang haha.. Teka bati na kayo?!’
‘Medyo hahaha’
‘Hahaha sige sige bababa na lang ako wait lang.’
Tik gets out of bed then went straight to the shower. After taking a shower he took a white shirt
and green shorts. After dressing up he went down to eat breakfast. As he went down, he was
greeted with a good morning by the couple. As he looked at the table, six pieces of sausages is
at one of the plates, a little over sixteen strips of bacon in another, and three fried eggs all
sunny side up. Also there is fried rice one the side.
‘O Tik, kain na haha’
‘Sige pa haha’
‘Kamusta tulog mo? Hahaha alam mo ba Elissa, tong si Tik hindi makatulog kakagabi?’
‘Napansin ko nga kagabi ehh. Sumugaw pa siya ehh.’
‘Hahaha kasi basa ng basa ng horror ehh’
‘Kuya naman ksasi.. nakaka adik ehh hahaha’
‘Ayan tuloy napala mo hahaha’
‘Hahaha’
‘O tara kain na. Kakausapin nga pala kita mamaya.’
‘Sige.’
47
Tik took two pieces of the sausages on the plate, four strips of bacon, one egg, and a cup of
fried rice. As the couple and Tik finished eating breakfast, Tik offered to wash the dishes. The
couple accepted his offer to wash the dishes.
‘Tik, maraming salamat ahh.’
‘Wala yun kuya. Hahaha pinapatira niyo naman ako dito ehh. Maganda siguro na tumulong
naman ako sa gawaing bahay di ba?’
‘Hahaha sige sige salamat ahh. At nga pala mag usap tayo sa sala pag labas ni Elissa.’
‘Sige kuya.’
As Tik finished washing the dishes, he went straight to the living room where John is waiting for
him.
‘Tik mamaya na hahaha hindi pa lumalabas si Elissa ehh.’
‘Sige kuya akyat muna ako ahh.’
‘Go lang. Tatawagin na lang kita.’
Tik went up to his stairs. He thought of calling Bok and the other guys. As he picked up his
phone, he noticed that creepy pasta is still opened in his phone’s browser. Instead of calling his
friends, he decided to read one story from creepy pasta. As he scrolled down the pages of the
website he saw an interesting story entitles “The Showers”. He opened it.
Part 1
Every area in all parts of the world has those area-specific Urban Legends that just refuse to die.
Whether the stories are about a haunted asylum on the outskirts of the city, a creature that lives
in the nearby woods, or a ghost that haunts a lonely stretch of road outside of town, there is
always a common thread within the tales; no one has ever been to these places, seen the
creatures, or witnessed any hauntings with their own eyes.
There are members of every generation who will proclaim that they "know someone whose
brother's best friend's sister went to that haunted house with thirteen floors that used real
blood and snakes and spiders and is so scary that no one has ever made it all the way through."
Those same people will swear by these stories without ever being able to provide a shred of
evidence or a name of someone who could provide proof of the claims simply because "everyone
around here knows that it's a true story". The storytellers eventually pass the tales onto their
children, who modify them just enough to keep up with changing times, and the cycle continues.
48
I'm as skeptical as anyone when it comes to these stories, seeing as I was like a junkie when I
was younger, constantly searching for more terrifying stories about whatever area of the
country I was living in at the time. I made up and spread stories about haunted pizza parlors in
New York, my "cousin's" encounter with the Jersey Devil, or how my "grandfather" encountered
a feral, human-like demon creature in the woods of Colorado. I even broke the one rule with
these stories by putting myself in them; this took guts, in hindsight, because I had to make sure
that I always told them the same way. Surprisingly, no one ever called my bluff.
I like to think that I have had some wonderful contributions to various urban legends around the
Midwest and northeastern states; I moved around a lot. There was always a surge of joy
whenever I would wander the halls at school and hear one of my classmates retelling my stories
to another one of their friends, adding little bits here and there like a massive game of
telephone. I knew, of course, that the stories were complete fiction, but I stood my ground
whenever someone asked me about them; I would even manage to act a little bit, speaking with
a shaky voice or looking scared when I would recount a situation that I supposedly experienced
myself.
I suppose this aspect of my childhood has led to my current predicament which I will recount, in
full, for the internet to take from it what they will. I have laid this little introduction out as sort
of a disclaimer, aimed particularly at those who will call my story into question. I have been like
the boy who cried wolf for years, but I assure you with every ounce of honesty and integrity that
I have that this time, the wolf is real.
From my introduction, it is probably apparent that I moved around the country quite a bit in my
middle and high school years. Neither of my parents had anything to do with any branch of the
armed forces; they simply didn't tend to hang around any given place for too long. I suppose it
had some sort of effect on me, but I wasn't hurt by it or anything of the sort. Growing up, I was
a complete ham. I made friends very easily, was often the class clown, and because of that, was
often disliked by my teachers. Again, this was never an issue, as I was usually in another state by
the time the next semester rolled around.
My friendships were often fleeting, as were any positive relationships that I ever had with my
teachers. Because of the events that followed, my memory of one teacher in particular is
probably slightly skewed, but I will attempt to give the least biased version of our friendship that
I can.
Mr. Mays was one of my social studies teachers in the early years of my high school experience.
Being older now, I can understand how horrible children are to deal with around that age, and I
respect him to no ends for the way that he was able to connect with his students. He seemed
like one of us; he talked like us, made pop-culture references that were current, listened to cool
49
music, and sometimes, he would even say "hell" or "damn" while he was giving a passionate
lecture about Native American history or something like that. A teacher that swore, even a little
bit, was the epitome of cool to a freshman in high school.
My memories of Mr. Mays mostly stem from the way that he really got into anything that he
was doing. The instance that is still very vivid in my mind was, of course, around Halloween of
my sophomore year. Mr. Mays had the typical teacher decorations around the classroom,
smiling jack-o-lanterns and black cat cartoons, typical and boring in the minds of egotistic highschool students. However, on the 31st of October, when most other teachers were rolling their
eyes at the fact that teenagers still took dressing up in costumes on Halloween seriously, Mr.
Mays took the whole "cool teacher" thing to a new level.
We walked into the classroom and were surprised to find the blinds drawn, sheets over the
smaller windows, candles lighting the room, and a single, frowning jack-o-lantern sitting on a
stool in front of the desks. Mr. Mays sat at his desk, just watching the students come into class
and take their seats. He didn't have to ask anyone to be quiet because the moment everyone
walked into the room, they were either too excited to care about petty conversations, or too
confused to bother with them . The students took their seats as Mr. Mays began his lecture. He
spoke quietly to set the mood, and took a seat on a chair, right next to the jack-o-lantern in the
center of the room.
"Today is probably my favorite day of the year, class," he said, in a monotonous voice.
"Halloween is my favorite holiday, and I want to share with you exactly why I love it so much."
One girl raised her hand with a concerned look on her face. "I'm pushing the due date for your
papers to next Tuesday," said Mr. Mays, without bothering to look at the girl, who slowly put
her hand down, looking around at the other students with a hint of embarrassment. The class
erupted in quiet cheers and Mr. Mays waited for the inevitable silence. He began his story
immediately after the class had calmed down.
I will attempt to recreate the amazing story that Mr. Mays told the class that day. The way in
which he told this story rendered the horror-junkies speechless and the rest of the class terrified.
The same girl that had raised her hand to ask about the paper was holding her knees to her
chest by the end of it, a look of terror on her face.
The important thing to know was what the story was about, the specifics slip my mind now and
aren't too relevant. I'll try to recount the parts of the story that matter the most, but don't hold
me to it. Basically, Mr. Mays and his friends set out on a road trip around the country after
graduating from college. They took a truck, loaded it with camping gear, and set out to sightsee for the entire summer. The group went from the Poconos in New Jersey, down to the coasts
of Florida, New Orleans to California and up to Washington. From there, they went to the Rocky
50
Mountains in Colorado and then back home to New York. This concept of the freedom to travel
anywhere had the entire class hooked in an instant; Mr. Mays was the coolest teacher ever, in
my eyes.
Being adventurous college kids, the group didn't bring a map. There were no time constraints,
so they just kind of drove in the general direction that they wanted to go and eventually found a
town to stay in or someplace that looked interesting. He told us that after spending a week in
Colorado, he and his friends had to travel through miles and miles of corn, plains, and more
corn. He assumed that they were in either Nebraska or Kansas when they decided to pool their
extra cash and stay in a hotel for a night. They settled into a motel in some town that Mr. Mays
could barely remember the name of when one of his friends realized that they were somewhere
near his grandfather's farm. He wasn't entirely sure where it was, but being adventurous college
kids, they decided to get a quick refund from the motel and try to contact the friend's grandpa.
They were unable to get ahold of the grandpa on the phone, so the group figured it would be
fun to just show up. Mr. Mays' friend was adamant that his grandparents would take them in
and feed them without a moment of hesitation. So, the group set out with an hour of sunlight,
seeking the salvation of a comfortable house to stay in.
In Kansas, or Nebraska, wherever it may have been, there aren't a whole lot of natural markers
that could guide lost travelers; any directions given to someone who didn't live around the area
basically amounted to "go up a couple of miles to the corn, take a right and go down a dirt road
to the other corn; there should be some wheat on your right." So, as is the case in most scary
stories, the group got lost. Never wanting to admit defeat, they drove into the night, making
wrong turns every five minutes until they found themselves on a wooded road that Mr. May's
friend was certain that his grandparents lived off of.
Mr. Mays described the road as basically a dark path to hell. I wasn't entirely sure how true this
was, because he got very excited and a bit ridiculous with his explanations of the "trees that
almost tried to grab the car," and "the red eyes of countless animals looking at them from the
darkness." Regardless, the typical horror tropes worked on most of the class; everyone was
terrified.
So the group of guys drove on this dark road for about fifteen minutes before they came to a
clearing and a small building with lights in it, and what seemed to be a silo. They figured that, at
the very least, the people who lived here would be able to help them find where the guy's
grandparents lived; the whole idea of "everyone knows everyone in these hick parts of the
country," fueled this hope. They pulled the car up near the building, realizing when they were
out of the car that it appeared to be like the kind of places where one would store a whole
bunch of chickens, not a home. Still, the lights were on, so they figured they would give it a try.
51
They approached the building as a group, looking in the semi-open sliding door to find a big,
empty room. Hanging, florescent lights lit the room like it was daytime, and they couldn't see a
soul. There were no cars, but one of Mr. Mays' friends was convinced he'd seen someone as they
pulled up, so they decided to go inside and see if there was an office or something where
someone might still be working. Why else would they have this huge place lit up like that?
There were no doors on the inside of the building; again, it was just a giant, empty hall. So, the
group roamed around the property and over towards the silo. As they got closer, they noticed
what appeared to be a cellar door. At this point, I remember Mr. Mays telling the entire class to
learn from his idiocy. He told us that he hadn't seen many horror movies before that time, and
didn't think twice about approaching a creepy cellar door in the middle of a dark, scary, foreign
place. He said that approaching that door was one of his biggest regrets.
Mr. Mays let the whole class know that he was going to tell us as much as he deemed
appropriate about the experience. He felt that we were mature enough to handle it, but advised
anyone that was squeamish to leave class early. Several students quietly gathered their things
and walked out the door, a couple of them being stoners who saw this as an opportunity to
smoke behind the school before their next class. I didn't even give the announcement a second
thought. Like I said, I was and am a sucker for this kind of stuff, and Mr. Mays was telling a story
better than anything I had ever conjured up. I wanted to learn from this guy, even though I
didn't believe much of the story.
After the class had thinned a bit, Mr. Mays continued with the story. He told the remaining few
that he and his friends opened that cellar door, releasing a smell that he only described as "the
most putrid thing my senses have ever experienced." The group was no longer concerned with
finding the owners of the property, but was now set on finding the source of that smell. They
went down the steps into the cellar, which was lit by single bulbs spaced sporadically along the
ceiling of a long hallway. No one spoke, things had gotten too strange. The walls were lined with
metal sheeting, similar to the roofing on farms. The hallway itself was crooked and the ceilings
constantly lowered and rose, like a tunnel that was hastily dug and then never touched up.
There were sections where the boys had to almost crouch in order to pass.
The worst part, Mr. Mays told us, was that the light bulbs continuously flickered, sometimes
acting like a strobe light and making it very difficult to move through the winding and unstable
hallways. In hindsight, he was certain that his mind was playing tricks on him, but he
remembered seeing flashes of things that couldn't be there. He said that when you are that
focused on sometime, or if you are that nervous, your mind can do that to you; it can simply
revolt, showing you things or people that aren't there. He continued to describe the hallway,
and I was on the edge of my seat. The halls were windy and seemed to go on forever; Mr. Mays
52
guessed that they were somewhere under the creepy forest they had driven through when they
found a door, but he couldn't be sure.
He said that they came upon a door after walking for what felt like a mile. It was simple and
wooden, but it looked like it belonged outside of a suburban home. It had a nice design, seemed
to be freshly painted red, and had a very nice knob and knocker on it. It was a door that belongs
at the entrance to a nice house, not one that would be sitting in a dirt tunnel in the middle of
nowhere. His friend walked towards the door, moving carefully because of the flashing light
bulb and increasingly uncertainty about the stability of the surrounding "walls". He turned to
the group, the rest of which were nervous at the very least, and attempted to lighten the mood
with a laugh before he said "I should probably knock first."
Mr. Mays' friend grabbed the steel knocker and hit it against the door several times, mockingly,
but quietly uttering, "is anyone home?" The group waited about thirty seconds before their
tension broke. The guy next to the door shrugged his shoulders and went to walk back to his
friends, but as he did, the light bulb between them surged and exploded. The boys shielded their
eyes and looked back to their lone friend by the door. As he lowered his hands, one of the metal
sheets of the makeshift roof dropped. The edge of the sheet fell directly on the boy's forehead,
slicing it open, and sending a wave of blood down his face. The impact apparently knocked him
out, and he fell back against the door, knocking it open in the process.
The entirety of the group rushed through the dim light to their friend, barely noticing the
seemingly pitch black room that now lay before them. Mr. Mays was the first to make it to his
friend's side. He lifted the guy's head into his arms, immediately taking off his jacket and putting
it over his forehead to attempt to stop the bleeding. Once the group had calmed down, Mr.
Mays noticed that the arm that had been bracing his friend's head was soaking wet. He was
confused about this, and was attempting to sort it out when one of his friends started talking.
He said something along the lines of "the lights; we have to go," when Mr. Mays took notice.
"You know when you turn off a light," he told the class, "and everything is almost pitch-black,
except the light of the bulb dying out or cooling down? It was like that, but there were so many
of them. At least twenty light bulbs had lit the room seconds ago, and now only looked like little
stars in the darkness. That was definitely terrifying, but that wasn't the scariest thing."
There was still a very dim light coming from the hallway behind them, and though it was weak,
it lit the room up just enough to see the shape of tens of people standing less than ten feet in
front of them. Mr. Mays' friend went to say something else as one of the bulbs to their right
flickered to life.
Let me interrupt at this point and say that Mr. Mays was a generally playful guy. He had that
tone of voice that makes you want to respond. Basically, he could say "let's go jump off of a cliff,
53
guys," and you would want to respond with "alright Mr. Mays, show us the way!" That is a
ridiculous statement, but it gets the point across. He was a charismatic guy. The whole story up
to this point had been told like a campfire story. He had the voice inflections of someone
attempting to be mysterious and scary, which worked, but was noticeable. At this point in his
tale, I recall that changing completely. He was no longer attempting to spook anyone; I could
tell that this section was difficult for him. Either he was a very good actor, or it was really a
terrifying memory for him to relive.
He told us that the light bulb came to life, and illuminated the group of people in front of him. In
the dim light, he could see children, at least twenty of them in just the visible light. They were all
dressed in nightgowns that looked to be tattered and torn, stained dark with something. Their
hair was long; every single one of them looked like they had not had a haircut since birth. Some
of the children were almost completely obscured by the length of it; every single one of them
didn't appear to have seen a shower or nice bath in their entire life.
Mr. Mays told us that the most terrifying part of the whole thing was that none of the children
were moving. They were all standing, staring, most of them only visible from the faint light
reflecting off of their eyes. His whole group was paralyzed with fear for several seconds, when
they heard what sounded like an animal in the distance yelping. The way it was described was
like the sound of a dog crying, multiplied by ten. This spurred the group to life, just as the
children began to step forward. His friends grabbed the injured one and lifted him out of the
room and into the hallway in an instant. Mr. Mays took another second to move, and had
difficulty finding his bearings. He reached to his left in an attempt to find a wall to lean against,
and ended up finding a handle, then pulled hard, never losing his vision on the children.
He bolted for the door right as he noticed what he had grabbed on to. A showerhead protruded
from a cement wall, reaching maybe a foot into the room. There was something leaking from it,
but it was too dim to tell what it was. He realized that it had been leaking onto him, but he
didn't care. There were now children stammering towards him as an animal cried in the distance
and his friend was seriously injured. As he left the room, he made a point to emphasize that he
could make out several more shower heads on the wall near the single, dim light bulb.
"This is why I call them ‘The Showers’," Mr. Mays told the class. I was transfixed, sitting as far
forward as my desk would allow, bracing for more.
"I slammed the red door behind me," he said, "and ran through that hallway faster than I have
ever run before or since. I made it back to the car, and we drove out of there like a bat out of
hell." (A couple of students snickered at his use of the word "hell".) "So, when you're out trick r'
treating tonight, make sure that you know exactly where you are headed, and don't go out to
54
any abandoned farmhouses. I mean, there aren't many around here, but you're all smart kids,
except Jerry." The class laughed and the mood lightened as the bell rang for passing period.
Mr. Mays turned the light on and thanked everyone for listening, reminded them about the
paper due next week, and told us to have a safe and Happy Halloween. Students all around me
were abuzz with theories about the story they had just heard.
"I bet it was some sort of crazy Nazi hideout," said one girl.
"I think they were all ghost babies that were killed by a dog," said another.
I couldn't theorize in the slightest; I was still caught up in the moment. The way that Mr. Mays
had told that story and the detail that he included in it, left me feeling like we didn't get the
whole story.
A couple days later, I stayed after class and asked him about how it really ended and what
happened to his friend. He laughed and said that his friend was fine and that it was honestly (he
whispered this part), "probably due to some of the drugs they were on at the time." Mr. Mays
winked at me as if to say, "don't tell anyone about the drugs bit, kid," and I smiled and left.
I lived in that town for another couple months and then was rapidly moved halfway across the
country to Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
I twisted the story around and told it around campfires as I got older, and it was always a hit,
but I always changed the ending, letting the friend die of blood loss or from being dragged away
by the children.
It wasn't until college that I got a chance to talk to Mr. Mays again.
I went to college in northern New York, not for any reasons associated with this story. College
was a fun time for me; I continued being the same ham that I had always been. It wasn't until
sometime around my junior year that I ran into Mr. Mays at a bar that I frequented.
Initially, I couldn't be sure that the person I saw laying with his head buried in his arm at the bar
was Mr. Mays. The only trait that grabbed my attention was a sweater that he used to wear on
his birthday during class. The shirt simply read: "I'm the birthday boy!"
I told my group of friends to grab a table and that I would join them in a second, then walked
over to the man at the bar. "Mr. Mays?" I said, and the man looked up.
The man took a second too look at my face before he smiled, put a hand on my shoulder, and
said, "hey there, son! How have you been?" I could smell some strong whiskey on his breath,
55
and his cheeks were flushed. The look in his eyes told me that he was three sheets to the wind
and probably had no idea who I was.
"Mr. Mays, it's Jack. I was a student of yours for a couple semesters about six or so years ago."
His face changed a bit, and a genuine look of recognition set in.
He took a calmer tone, smiled, and said, "How've you been, Jack?"
We talked for a solid twenty minutes. I told him what I had been doing for the last several years,
and he told me. Apparently he was still teaching at the same school doing "the same old shtick,"
as he called it. I asked if everything was alright, and he said that they were as good as they ever
have been or were ever going to get.
It took me a while to realize that I was an adult that was having a conversation with another
adult.
Every time I had spoken to Mr. Mays previously, I had been in the student/teacher relationship;
but now, I was just a guy having a drink with a friend at the bar.
My friends eventually left, and I continued to drink with Mr. Mays. He told me all about his
divorce and his kids, things that I never would have asked or cared about previously. But now, I
cared; he was a real person to me, not just an idol anymore. This was a guy who had real
problems, not the infallible teacher that I once thought he was.
It had been several hours before I even brought up his story about "The Showers". I told him all
about my history with urban legends and scary stories, and he just laughed. When I mentioned
the story that he had told us years ago, he almost seemed uncomfortable. He finished his
whiskey, signaled for another, and then turned to me and got very serious.
"Listen Jack, I don't know why I kept telling that story, year after year." His words were slurred,
or my hearing was messed up; we were both sufficiently blitzed at this point. "That was what
my therapist told me to do when I was younger. I had to tell people it, to come to grips with it,
or some shit." He took a big swig of his drink.
"Wait, your therapist?" I said.
Mr. Mays laughed heartily and looked at me. "Of course, Jack. You think that something like
that wouldn't fuck a person up?"
I was confused, but smiled nonetheless. Things had just gotten very strange.
"But, I mean, you said you were all on drugs or something, right? No one was too terribly hurt.
You were all okay, right?"
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He got almost cartoonish with his sadness in the next several seconds. "Of course we didn't,
Jack. Why do you think I'm here right now?"
I was puzzled, quickly filled with a thousand questions that I wanted to ask him, but I let him
carry on.
"Tim fuckin', he didn't make it, Jack," he laughed; his laugh turned suddenly to tears. "Fucking
took him, they did. I don't even know. Cops told us we were just drunk, that he wandered off
and got taken by the wildlife. He didn't know. He didn't see it, Jack."
I was absolutely stone-faced at this point. Mr. Mays was carrying along like I knew the actual
story, but I didn't. His friend disappeared. I didn't know.
"I wish they'd have found the body, though. Then we could have shown them," he sighed.
"That's a bad place, Jack. I don't know anything else to say. It's a bad place."
He carried on for a couple minutes more about his friend and the fun that they had before they
went on that trip, and I let him talk. It was only a few minutes later that his phone rang.
"Hello, sweetheart," he whispered into the phone. "I'll be out in a second. I l-" he gagged. "-ove
you, baby." The person on the other end hung up the phone, and Mr. Mays got up to leave.
"It's been nice seeing you, Jackie. You've gotta good head on your shoulders, boy. Make sure you
use it." He began to walk out of the bar.
"Mr. Mays!" I yelled after him.
"Yeah, Jack?" he turned back towards me.
"Where'd you say all that showers business took place?"
"Where? Hell, didn't I mention it? It's somewhere outside Broken Bow, Nebraska. Fucking Hell
on Earth, if you ask me."
Mr. Mays walked out of the bar after waving to me, running into the wall before eventually
finding the door.
That was the last time I would see him. I'd never be able to tell him the impact that he had on
my life, or rather, the impact that his story had on me. He'd never know about the trip we took
after graduation, almost mimicking the one he and his friends had made. He would never know
that the things he saw at that place were real. Why? Well, he died about a month later. His liver
57
failed on him. It's alright though, because his family was with him in the hospital room. He got
to die around people that cared about him, and that is all I can ask for a man like that.
I experienced that place too, several years later. That is where my story turns. The following is
the story of how I came to find "The Showers," and why I will never, ever go anywhere near
Nebraska ever again. I'll finish this story when I'm sober. The memory is clear enough.
Part 2
I'm awake now, semi-sober, and ready to finish this for you guys, the internet, and whoever
cares to hear it.
I didn't find out that Mr. Mays had passed away until a couple months after the funeral service.
Initially, I was going to seek out his family in order to send my condolences, but it wasn't as if
Mr. Mays and I were best friends or anything like that; so, I refrained. I continued through my
college career and graduated a year or so after our bar meeting.
Graduating with English as my major wasn't a mistake, but it wasn't exactly something that
landed me any sort of immediate jobs after college. Now, I had saved a pretty solid amount of
money while I was in school and decided that I deserved a bit of a vacation, if you will. I took my
spare cash, got together with my college buddy Steve, packed up and hit the road, aiming for
somewhere in the Rocky Mountains. I had lived near Littleton, Colorado when I was younger and
remembered loving the area, so this destination was as good as any.
The trip was a success. We made it somewhere around Estes Park, Colorado and found a cheap
cabin that we rented for about a month. The days were filled with lounging, hiking, and
generally things that involved little-to-no work on our parts. After our rental was through, we
packed up again and headed on our way back east.
Sometime during this trip, we had met up with a couple Estes Park natives in one of the local
bars. We never typically "hung out" with them or anything like that; we just had conversations
now and then over drinks and food. One night, these guys were paying their tab and packing up
to leave awfully early; they were usually there until the wee hours of the morning. When we
questioned them about it, they told us that they were headed to a little get-together with some
friends of theirs, and they invited us. Having nothing else to do, we hopped in the car and
followed them to the party.
The party itself was very low-key, and ultimately inconsequential to this story; however, the
important thing about it was that at some point in the night, we were all sitting around the fire
and swapping ghost stories. At this point in my life, I wasn't as much of a ham as I was in my
younger years. But, with a little bit of encouragement, I started on a couple of stories that I
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remembered telling in my youth. Eventually, I made it to Mr. Mays' story about "The Showers".
Every time that I had told it after hearing it from Mr. Mays, I had spiced it up a little bit. But, out
of some sort of subconscious respect for my former teacher, I went straight into the version that
he told my class in my sophomore year of high school.
The group enjoyed my stories for the most part, "The Showers" being the mutual favorite
among the partygoers. Steve and I left for the cabin at around five in the morning, and he asked
me about that story on the drive home. I told him all about Mr. Mays, that class, my love for
everything horror-related and whatnot, and he suggested that we tried to find the place on our
return trip to New York. Initially I was reluctant simply because I didn't feel like aimlessly
wandering through Nebraska for days, looking for some old farm building that was probably
demolished at this point. But, a couple of days before we left Colorado, I told Steve that it
sounded like fun. We weren't going to be able to do another trip like this for a long time, so I
figured that we might as well make the best of it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought
of it as a little tribute to Mr. Mays, a guy that, in retrospect, helped me realize that I wanted to
be a writer.
Anyway, we left Colorado and made the long, boring, and barren drive to Broken Bow,
Nebraska, or "Hell on Earth" as Mr. Mays had put it. We found a motel in town and hung
around for a couple of days, venturing out a hundred miles or so in any given direction each day
after that. I had remembered Mr. Mays telling us that it was somewhere outside of Broken Bow,
but I don't think he got any more specific than that.
We tried asking the townsfolk if they had any information about The Showers, but we were
usually met with blank stares or eye-rolling when we told them what exactly this place was. The
only person who seemed to know anything about it was an older lady that worked at a gas
station on the outskirts of town. I don't recall her name, but this woman was just one of those
cheerful old people, very helpful and generally interested in what anyone had to say to her.
Steve had started talking to her at checkout and she asked about our license plate, commenting
about the fact that we were very far from home. We had nowhere in particular to be, so Steve
and I ended up talking to this woman for about fifteen minutes, at which point we brought up
our hunt for the place known as "The Showers".
Initially, the name didn't ring any bells with the woman which made sense, seeing as Mr. Mays
had just given it the name after his experience there. But, when I began to describe the details
that I remembered from his story, the friendly old woman interrupted me. Her tone was not
scornful or mean in any way, but she became very terse and deliberate with her words from that
point on.
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"People don't deal with anything relating to that sort of business around here anymore," she
told us. "That was all a long time ago." Following her statements, she attempted to be cheerful
again, excusing herself to the restroom and wishing us the best on our return trip to New York.
Steve and I returned to the car without a word. Both of us were thinking about what the lady
had said. Again, she didn't seem to be angry at all, she just didn't want to hear another word
about it. We were driving back to the hotel before Steve said something. "I mean, if I had to live
in a place associated with an urban legend or something like that, I would totally mess with
anyone who asked about it," he said. "I mean, eventually you'd just get tired of people asking
about it and so you'd just try to scare them to get them to shut up, wouldn't you?"
I agreed with Steve and kept driving, but the whole experience wasn't sitting right with me. If
this was some sort of well-known legend in the area, why did no one else in the town seem to
know anything about it? But, I managed to shrug it off. Mind you, neither of us was scared of
finding The Showers; this little excursion on our road trip was more like a scavenger hunt, a capoff to an overall relaxing vacation. Steve and I were basically like tourists, hunting for the site at
which a famous movie was filmed or something like that. We went into the whole situation with
little to no expectations and a fleeting hope that we would be able to find this place.
We spent another day in Broken Bow before we took our next trip out to try to find The
Showers. Nebraska isn't as terrible of a place as people make it out to be, but it really isn't all
that exciting. We found a bar and spent some time there, and that was just about the extent of
our activity on our "day off".
When we did get back on the road, we decided that we would attempt to stay off of main roads
for as much of the day as we could. I knew that there was no way that this place was going to
be off of the highway and I remembered some detail about a dirt road in Mr. Mays' story, so we
went looking for those. This was a fairly futile effort; most of Nebraska is dirt roads.
It was seven in the evening when we came upon a small, but thick forest. I use the term lightly,
but for Nebraska, this place was like an oasis. The trees were full and thick, shrouding most of
its insides in darkness. The sun was setting and even though we had run into a few of these
random crops of trees, we agreed that this one showed more promise than any of the others.
There wasn't really a road, but there looked to be a path where a dirt road might have been at
some point, so we drove along that. If the car was able to handle the Rocky Mountains, a dirt
path in Nebraska would give us no trouble.
We moved slowly and carefully along this trail, making sure to clear any fallen trees in the road
or rocks that would render the car useless, when the sun finished setting. It was pretty dark in
this place during the day, but when night came, it was something else entirely. I had an inkling
at this point that we had found the right place, but I didn't want to jinx it, so we continued
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onward. I didn't realize it at the time, but the little bits of light that managed to penetrate the
canopy in this miniature forest actually did make it look as if the tree branches were trying to
grab the car, just like Mr. Mays had mentioned in the story. I'm still convinced that he made up
the part about the animal eyes, though; the most aggressive creature we saw in the woods was
a dead rabbit on the side of the trail. It didn't have any obvious signs of death; it just looked like
it had simply lay down and never bothered to get up.
We drove around in the darkness for quite a while before we found a clearing. We had to move
several smaller clusters of branches out of the way before, but right in front of our exit was a
giant, dead, monster of a tree. There was no way we were moving this one, so we got out and
turned on the bright headlights in the hopes that it would illuminate the area in front of us.
There was a feeling of excitement mixed strangely with fear when I saw what lay fifty feet
beyond the clearing.
There, lit partially by the headlights from the car and the little bit of light from the crescent
moon, was what appeared to be an old barn house. This wasn't a typical farmhouse, it was
larger than the barns that I had seen in films and didn't have any sort of crest. It basically looked
like a small warehouse. I wasn't entirely sure at this point if this was the place we were looking
for, but this was definitely the closest we had come.
I moved through the brush until I was roughly twenty feet from the entrance, at which point all
of the growth seem to stop. I don't know if the owners had done something to the soil, but the
whole structure had a border around it that was clear of any sort of plant life. I approached the
entrance to the building, a large sliding door, as Steve came up behind me with two flashlights
in hand.
"So you were just going to run off into that place in the dark?" he laughed.
I gave a half-hearted chuckle and grabbed one of the lights from his hand. Mine was a little, but
pretty bright flashlight; it was the kind that hikers would most likely fasten to their backpacks,
just in case they were stranded at night. It worked well enough. I grabbed the metal door with
both hands, holding the flashlight with my mouth, and gave it a tug. It moved slightly, creaked a
little bit, but there was no way I was doing this by myself. Steve came up from behind, set his
flashlight on the ground, grabbed the door, and said "one, two...three!"
We pulled at the door with all that we could muster. Once we had managed to move it a couple
of inches, it must have latched back onto its track because it slid very easily, stopping hard with
a loud and echoing thud when it was completely open. Steve picked up his flashlight and walked
behind me; I had already moved inside.
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The inside of the structure was exceptionally bare, almost troublingly so. I wasn't entirely sure
how far we were from the nearest home or small town, but there wasn't even the slightest bit of
evidence that anyone had been in this building for years. There were no broken beer bottles or
empty bags of chips; there weren't even any animal droppings or eager plants that managed to
grow here. The room was expansive, larger than your average farm, but not the warehousesized monstrosity that I believed Mr. Mays had described in his story. I was sure that it was
simply a holding area for farming equipment or something similar at some point.
Disappointed, I wandered near the entrance while Steve ventured into the expanse of darkness.
As I was running over the details of the story in my mind, something struck me like a sack of
bricks; in Mr. Mays' story, there was a silo near the barn. I ran outside, my eyes adjusting easily
because at the very least it was brighter outside. I looked in all directions, running around the
perimeter of the building. Surely, if there was ever a silo near this place, there would be some
evidence of it somewhere. But, despite my hopes, there was nothing but a cluster of thick
bushes on one side, brush and dirt everywhere, and the forest that we had come from.
I walked back into the building, frustrated and tired. Steve was still excited, eagerly running
around the inside of the building. "Even if I could just find a showerhead or a pipe," he said.
"Then we'd know it was true. Just keep looking with me." I didn't want to ruin his excitement; I
had told Steve the story several times, but obviously he didn't realize that this just wasn't the
place. The building was weird, yes. It was out of place and oddly pristine, but it wasn't the
location of The Showers. I let him explore for a little bit before I called him over.
"This was probably as close as we are going to get, man," I said. "But this isn't it. Remember the
silo?" His face went from excitement to disappointment in an instant, much like a young child
who didn't get the presents he wanted on his birthday. I patted him on the shoulder. "This is still
pretty cool, though. I mean, we could still tell people that we found it." I was reverting back to
my old habits quickly.
Steve laughed. "Yeah, man, I guess we could. It is definitely creepy enough. We should get some
pictures as 'proof', you know?" I agreed with him. "I'm gonna go grab the camera really quick,"
he said as he bolted out the entrance of the building. I was left alone in the building.
It was very quiet when I was alone in there. I could hear the faint sound of Steve running
through the brush and to the car, but once he was far enough away, everything was quiet. I
remember not even hearing wind or the chirping of crickets as I walked deeper into the dark,
flashlight in hand. I was convinced that there had to be something. As I approached the far
corner of the room, the sound of my feet scratching against the dirt was interrupted by a soft,
hollow thud. I stopped, trying to figure out what it was. I put my foot down hard against the
62
ground and heard it again. I stomped one more time, realizing that the floor that I was standing
on was covering something hollow.
I walked to the wall of the room, looking carefully at the floor to try to spot any holes or gaps.
As far as I had known, it was solid ground that this thing sat atop, so I was convinced that I had
found a hatch or a basement or something. I heard Steve coming back through the brush as I
shouted, "Steve! Come over here, it's hol-" As I went to say the word "hollow," I hopped a little
bit, hoping to recreate the sound so that he would be able to hear it upon entering the door. The
second that my feet made contact with the floor, I felt it give out beneath me.
The memory of the fall is fuzzy, but I do recall hearing wood splinter. I remember seeing the light
from Steve's flashlight falling away into complete darkness. It wasn't a long fall, but I must have
fallen in a terrible position because I know that I lost consciousness for several seconds at least.
When I woke up I was staring at a bright light. For an instant I had thoughts about approaching
the fabled "light at the end of the tunnel." I was angry at myself. "You died in Nebraska, Jack?
Wow, you do know how to fuck up." My self-deprecation in the afterlife was interrupted by
what sounded like Steve's voice.
"Jesus, Jack! Jack, can you hear me? Dude, wake up. Please, wake up," he screamed.
I managed to lift my head up off of the floor just enough for him to celebrate. The pain in my
head was immense, but it was outweighed by the pain shooting through my knee. I knew I had a
concussion, but the pain in my knee was just so much more pressing. I looked around until I
found my tiny flashlight, then sat up and reassured Steve. "I'm okay, I just hurt my knee; I
bumped my head too, really hard."
"Thank fuck, man. I thought you were dead. Imagine that, though, dying in fucking Nebraska.
It'd be awful." His words made me laugh a little bit, but I stopped myself; the slightest shaking
hurt my head and made me incredibly dizzy. "I guess, a rope?" said Steve.
"What?" I asked, quietly.
"Should I go get a rope to get you out of here, or do you see a ladder?" I looked around the walls
that sat in front of me; they were smooth cement. There was no way that I was climbing out of
here. "Yeah, get the rope," I told him. "It's buried under all of our stuff. I think it might be in my
red climbing bag, but I'm not sure." Steve nodded, telling me to hang in there and that he would
be back in a little bit, and then he ran off.
The silence that followed was uncomfortable. After the sound of Steve's feet scraping the floor
above me faded away, I was only able to hear that buzzing that occurs in total silence
intertwined with the pulsing in my head. I pushed myself over to the nearest cement wall and
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braced myself against it, resting and breathing deep in an attempt to calm myself. The cement
was unnaturally cold against my back. It was summer, so I only had a t-shirt on, but it felt like
ice even through that. Again, this observation was primarily made after the fact. In the moment,
it just felt good to lean against something.
I sat there, waiting for Steve in this underground basement, and I began to feel uneasy. I felt like
an idiot for falling down here; I felt pain from my injuries as well. That all seemed to fade into
one emotion in an instant when I heard what I could only identify as breathing, somewhere to
my left. I convinced myself that it was my injured mind playing tricks on me for a few moments
until my mind decided to rapidly replay Mr. Mays' story. When I had first heard it in that
classroom years before, I was more impressed than I was scared. But now, sitting in a dark
basement in the middle of Nebraska, I felt something that I hadn't felt in a long time; it couldn't
even be summed up in the word "fear". As I sat there, I felt all-encompassing dread.
I pointed my flashlight to my left, the direction from which I thought I heard the sound. The light
didn't reach the other wall; it was too far away. But, I was comforted to see absolutely nothing
there. I breathed deeply for a couple more seconds before I heard another noise in the darkness.
It was very quick, and I cannot be sure that it wasn't my own body moving around without my
noticing; but I thought that I heard a scraping sound not ten feet in front of me. It sounded like
the noise your feet make when you are walking across a dirt-covered floor. Before I could react, I
heard the breathing to my left again, closer this time. There was no way this was real. I hadn't
seen so much as a spider web in this building and now I was convincing myself that something
next to me was breathing?
I was angry at myself for getting so worked up. I told myself that the human brain is constantly
hallucinating. I told myself that while in silence or darkness, the brain will make sounds to fill the
gap, or make you think you see things that aren't there. I channeled my inner-skeptic in order to
calm myself; it worked. It worked until I saw a flash of something in front of me. I can't be
entirely sure what it was, but I heard the accompanying sounds of feet scraping against the
floor and I began to swell with dread. I decided that the best course of action at this point was
to turn off my flashlight, assuming that if they couldn't see me, they couldn't get to me,
whatever "they" might be.
I turned off my flashlight and was left in complete and total darkness. The bulb of the flashlight
faded as it cooled and I put it into my pocket, simultaneously pushing back against the cold
cement wall in an attempt to stand. I managed to get up on my feet, well, foot, and found that I
couldn't stand to put any pressure on my injured knee. I limped to the corner, humming to
myself, trying to break the deafening silence. I called for Steve, as loud as I could manage, but
heard no response. He was probably in the back of the car, still hunting for the rope. There had
to be a ladder or something, somewhere.
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I continued to hum and my heartbeat, which had been beating almost out of my chest, slowed
to a manageable rate. I moved along the cement wall, keeping my whole body against it and
the weight off of my injured knee. I had traveled what I guessed to be about ten feet when my
head made contact with something in front of me. I tumbled to the ground. My concussion must
have amplified the pain, because it was blinding. I reached both hands to my forehead when I
felt something warm and wet with my fingers. I searched for a cut anywhere on my forehead,
but couldn’t find one. I desperately searched for my flashlight as I sat up and tried to get back
against the wall.
I grabbed the light in my right hand, bracing against the wall with the other. I turned it on and
pointed it into the darkness where I was just lying. The floor was wet, but the dirt had muddled
the color of whatever the liquid was. I tried to get my eyes to focus on the puddle, tried to
convince myself that it was my blood when I saw another drop fall into the puddle.
Words lack the ability to describe the way I felt when I heard the "drip" noise again, and saw yet
another tiny ball of liquid fall into the puddle. I think I knew, even then, exactly what the source
was, but I was endlessly trying to convince myself that I was wrong. I lifted the flashlight up and
pointed it at the source of the liquid. What stared back at me was a pipe that protruded at least
a foot out from the cement wall. The metal was rusted and cracked; little bits of the liquid
began to seep from them. At the end of the pipe was a simple showerhead, aimed down
towards the ground.
You know that feeling when your stomach drops? In this case, I think mine literally did, because I
vomited immediately. It got all over my shoe, but that wasn't the least bit important at the time.
I ignored the pain in my knee and shuffled along the wall as fast as I possibly could. I heard
noises, but I can't be sure if it was just the sounds of my own movement or something around
me. I managed to duck under the next showerhead. This one was higher up on the wall, and
seemed to be leaking the same liquid that the other one was. I felt like I was moving along
something infinite. Every now and then I would have to duck or move under another metal bar,
another showerhead. They began to pour more profusely, but the liquid was too thick to come
out easily.
The room began to smell. I remembered immediately the way that Mr. Mays had described it. I
grabbed my shirt and put it over my nose, trucking onward, but it didn't stop the smell for an
instant. It smelled like vomit; it smelled like shit; it smelled like burnt hair; it smelled like rot.
I was still moving against the wall when I fell into some sort of outlet. I hit the dirt ground hard,
adrenaline coursing through my veins; the pain still managed to break through, though. My
flashlight was still in my hand; I aimed it and examined my surroundings. Sitting in front of me
was a doorway. There was a door there, though it looked aged now. It had a nice little design on
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it, a doorknob, and a knocker that looked like a snarling demon. Red paint was peeling from it,
flaking off and falling to the ground in front of me. I clumsily rose and busted through the door,
narrowly missing a piece of hanging sheet metal in front of me. I was crawling now; there was
no way that I could run. The walls and ceiling were lined with metal, the kind that you would see
on the roof of a farm. Large pieces of wood seemed to brace the sheets, holding this makeshift
tunnel together. I couldn't risk sliding against that and possibly cutting myself on the metal, or
hitting the wood and causing a cave-in. So I crawled.
I pulled myself for what felt like miles, running into walls every now and then because the path
seemed to curve like a snake. I had no idea where I was in relation to the hole that I had fallen
through, but I told myself that there was an exit at the end of this. Had I not been crawling, I
would have surely hurt myself far worse. There were parts of the tunnel in which the ceiling
dipped down to maybe three feet above the ground. It hadn't caved in, because the ceiling still
lined it. Someone had built it like this. This, again, is in hindsight. I didn't care at the time. I kept
telling myself there was nothing behind me, but I swore that I heard feet scraping only a few
inches behind my own.
My jeans would brush against my legs every now and then, making it feel like someone was
touching me, and even now, I still can't completely convince myself that someone wasn't. I
crawled and crawled until I reached an upslope. With joy I looked ahead of me; there was a
cellar door. The door was made of wood; I knew this because I could see light through them. I
couldn't be sure, but I thought it might have been the light from the car's headlights. Besides all
of that, I was just so immensely happy to find an exit.
I crawled all the way to the door and threw my shoulder into it. It budged, but didn't open. I
began to scream, but I my throat seared with pain. The most I could manage was a harsh crying
noise; it sounded like a dying animal. I collapsed in exhaustion and pain, my eyes staring up at
the slits of light before me. I was so close to being out of here; I could taste it.
It was in that moment of silent defeat that I heard a noise that was, without question,
something moving in the tunnel. It sounded like something was being dragged across the floor.
It would move, pause for a second, and then move again. I had nothing left in my stomach to
throw up, but I began to gag. I gathered myself slightly and tried to steady my hand enough to
focus the flashlight into the tunnel.
What I saw, I can still not rationalize. I know what I saw, but I cannot convince myself that it
was actually there. I can't stop telling myself that I was hallucinating. I saw a child in a dirty
sleeping gown. The gown was stained with something dark and brown, with occasional splashes
of a deep red. The child was extremely frail, like the pictures that people might see of a
holocaust victim. I could only make out one eye, brightly reflecting the light of my flashlight. In
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between huge tufts of long, dirty hair. It reached down beyond the fingertips of the child, which
were caked with dirt. The boy, or girl, I'm not entirely sure which, moved towards me with
difficulty. It wasn't breathing hard, but it seemed that every movement of every muscle took
every ounce of strength the child had. The thing that froze me, though, was the eye. It was only
visible because it was reflecting my flashlight, but even in that glint, I could feel anger, or deep
hatred, or something like it. This is the point in which the English language really lacks the right
words to explain the situation. I could tell that this child meant me harm. Whether it was a
hallucination or not, the thing was getting closer. I started to cry. It was getting closer and
closer when I heard a voice from behind me. "Hey, Jack," whispered the voice. It was Steve, I
was certain.
I tried to talk back, fully intending to say, "Open this up and get me out right now." However,
given my current state, I am sure it just sounded like garbled nonsense. I clawed at the door,
pushing against it with everything that I had and finally breaking eye contact with the child. As I
did this, the flashlight rolled down the slope, coming to rest somewhere near the child's feet.
"What do you see?" the voice asked.
"What are you talking about?" I closed my eyes.
I remember hearing a reply along the lines of "Just look at it. Tell me what you see," but my own
screams of frustration drowned it out.
I was mumbling like a maniac when the voice told me, calmly, "Rest for a second, I'll get it." The
statement took a second to settle in, at which point I closed my eyes tight.
"Steve, just do it please. Please, just get it open please," I whimpered. "Just get me out of here."
My voice was beginning to get louder. "Steve, god dammit, open the fucking wooden door." I
opened my eyes for a split second to see nothing but black hair, dangling in front of my face, a
small glint of light hidden in the mess of tangles. I slammed my eyes shut and screamed with
every ounce of energy I had, "Open the fucking do-" The door behind me gave way, and I fell
onto the dirt, taking in a breath of fresh air. My eyes were still closed, but the first thing that I
did was scramble to find the cellar door and close it. Once I had done that, I took a deep breath
and opened my eyes.
I saw the barn in front of me, illuminated by the headlights of the car. My head was pulsing with
pain. I was covered in dirt and liquids that I didn't even care to know the origin of. My knee was,
at the very least, dislocated. But despite all of that, I was out of the tunnel. I took a deep breath,
buried my head in my hands, and said "Steve, why didn't you just fucking open the door?"
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I waited for a response, but none came. "Steve, seriously," I began, "I was fucking clawing,
screaming for my life," I said as I looked behind me. My stomach must have been on the verge of
falling out of me at this point, because it shifted again. The only thing behind me was the large
mass of bushes that I had seen while examining the perimeter or the building. I was angry.
"Steve, this is not the fucking time. Come out of the fucking bushes." I was getting ready to
stand up when I heard a yell from the front of the building.
A flashlight bobbed up and down in the semi-darkness. Steve was running into the open door of
the structure, yelling my name and telling me not to worry. I must have lost consciousness at
that point. When I woke up, Steve was standing over me, desperately trying to wake me up. His
words were almost incoherent, at least to my ears.
He helped me to my feet and began to walk me to the car. As we walked away, I saw my
flashlight sitting just outside the cellar door, the light was fading.
Steve brought me back to the car and then drove me to the nearest hospital. I fell asleep, but he
told me that he drove around for an hour before he found a main road. I don't think I ever told
him the whole story. I believe he thinks that I was just injured from the fall. He never really
asked about it, and we didn't stay in contact for much longer. It's not like we deliberately parted
ways, we just sort of stopped hanging out after that trip and went our separate ways.
I have never been able to fully understand what happened that night. There are many things
that I can explain away as being hallucinations, but there are still many things that don't make
sense. The showerheads were there and they were leaking something. The door was real, the
tunnel was real. Most everything else can be semi-rationalized if I can convince myself that I had
a very bad concussion, a very, very bad concussion. But the one thing that I couldn't have
imagined was that cellar door was locked, and then it suddenly wasn't.
I am still as skeptical as I have ever been, but I believe in what happened to me at The Showers.
I'm not a hermit or a social retard because of this. I drink a lot, but I am still functional. But, I will
never return to Nebraska; no one will ever be able to convince me otherwise. I don't watch
horror movies either; there is absolutely nothing entertaining about being so desperately
scared. That's it, really. There is no typical ending for my story. I was changed by my experience,
yeah. But, there is no way to change anything about it or "fight back" against it. I can't even
convince myself that I wasn't just seeing things. Believe me; I've been trying for years.
Prior to this, there was really no way to find any information on The Showers. The legend didn't
extend outside the classroom of Mr. Mays. No one told stories like this to keep children away
from a certain place or to scare them; it just wasn't known. I guess that's really the point of this
whole story. I want people to know, first hand, what this place is like. Maybe it is a drunk's
rationale, or the kid inside me wanting to spread these kinds of stories again. I don't know; I
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don't care. But, it's out there now, for people to mold and warp to their needs. Most
importantly, it's finally out of my head.
It's getting late and I'm getting another drink. Cheers.
As Tik was finishing the last sentence of the story, he heard Elissa saying her goodbyes to John
because she’s going to work. He waited for John’s signal to go down, after a little over 5
minutes he heard John calling out his name.
‘Oi Tik! Baba ka na! Hahaha!’
‘Pababa na kuya.’
Tik bought his phone with him as he went out of his room and went down stairs.
‘Tik, di ba hacker ka?’
‘Uhmmmm... Oo, bakit mo natanong?’
‘Nag tatrabaho kasi ako ngaun bilang isang programmer sa isang bangko diyan lang sa may
labas ng village. Napansin mo bay un kahapon nung papunta ka dito?’
‘Ahh oo nakita ko yun. Yung kulay blue yung logo?’
‘Oo yun haha may plano kasi ako para yumaman. Kailangan ko lang ng man power at magaling
na hacker.’
‘Sige tuloy lang kuya. Hehe mukang gusto ko patutunguhan nito hahaha’
‘Yan ang gusto ko haha kailangan ko kasi ng katulong gumawa ng program. Since hacker ka
naman sure ako magaling ka magprogram, at lalong mas sure ako na mas magaling ka sakin
hahaha simpleng programmer lang ako. Hindi ako marunong maghack.’
‘Sige, ano ba plano mo sa program na yan?’
‘Bago yan, mapagkakatiwalaan ba kita?’
‘Oo naman kuya hahaha’
‘Ikaw kasi nirecommend ni Tisoy ehh. Wag mo na alamin kung paano nalaman ni Tisoy.
Matagal na kami naghahanap ng magaling na hacker. Ikaw yung na discover niya. At alam mo
yung trabaho na binigay niya sayo? Binigay niya lang yun para makapunta ka dito. At onga
pala, paalala mo na bibigay ko sayo yung mga information para sa money transfer hahahaha’
‘Oo kuya hahaha. Medyo nagulat ako dito ahh hahaha pero sige kuya, anong plano mo?’
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‘Eto kasi, balak kong gumawa ng program.. uhmm sabihin na nating virus na nakakakuha ng
pero sa bawat account ng mga tao pero sobrang maliliit na halaga lang at mapupunta ito sa
iba’t-ibang account natin para hindi mahalata na nagtatransfer na pala ng pera from one
account papunta satin. Ang pinaka mahirap dito yung hindi tayo madedetect.’
‘Wow medyo mabigat yan ehh pero game ako. Pero sabihin na natin na nagawa natin yung
virus na yan, pano natin mapaplant sa bank?’
‘Dude, nagtatrabaho nga ako sa bangko na yun di ba? May inside job na tayo hahaha batukan
kita diyan ehh. HAHAHA!’
‘Ayy hehehe oo nga pala.’
‘Eto na nga pala yung information para sa money transfer. Bibigyan pa kita ng mas malaki
diyan, para makabili ka ng magandang laptop para sa “project” na ito hahaha’
‘Sige po kuya. Salamat po!! HAHAHA!’
‘Walang anuman pare.’
‘Pwede ba ako mag sama ng apat pa para dito. Promise sobrang magagaling itong mga to.’
‘Go lang , matiwala ako sayo.’
‘Sige po kuya, contacin ko po muna sila. At punta muna ako sa money transfer para sap era
hehe’
‘Go lang pare hahaha papuntahin mo dito yung apat na sinasabi mo ahh.’
‘Sige po.’
After the conversation, Tik happily went upstairs to change his clothes. He is so excited about
the project. He thinks that this project would help him get rich in no time. As he went out, he
called Bok to tell the other guys so they can meet up at the place where they all used to
hangout.
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V.
The Gathering
‘Parekoy! Tik to! Tawagan mo naman yung iba. Magkita kita tayo mamaya! Miss ko na sila
hahaha. At may sasabihin din akong matindi sainyo. Hehehe.’
‘Sige pre! Dun ba sa dati nating tinatambayan?’
‘Oo pare!’
‘Sige sige, text kita pag nandun na kami ahh. Intayin ka namin.’
Tik went out of the house and called a tricycle. He went to the nearest money transfer agency
after went outside the village. He gave the information to person at the counter at gave him
money worth Php10,000.00. He called Bok if everyone is with him already.
‘Bok, nandyan na lahat.’
‘Si Jed wala, ang sabi niya tambay na lang daw tayo sakanila hahaha’
‘Ayy sige sige, punta na kayo dun, sunod na lang ako.’
‘Sige sige brad.’
Tik boarded a jeepney and got down at the village where Jed is currently living. He then
boarded a black colored tricycle to Jed’s house. The tricycle stopped at a small house with no
gates in it. It has like a total of 5 windowsall over the house, it only has one floor, the house is
painted white though it is a little dirty, and the door painted brown made out of wood. He
came up the front door and knocked.
‘Mga pare may kumakatok.’
‘Si Tik na ata yan!!’
‘Oi Tik ang panget mo kahit di pa kita nakikita!! HAHAHAHA’
‘HAHAHAHA!!!’
‘BWAHAHAHAHA!’
‘Mga sira ulo kayo oi!! Buksan niyo yung pinto!’
‘Ayaw naming ehh! Magdusa ka diyan sa labas! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!’
Jed opened the door so Tik can come in.
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‘Kamusta mga pre!!!’
‘Wohoo!! Nandito na si Tik!! AHAHAHA!’
‘Hayop namiss ka na naming!!’
‘Miss ko rin kayo mga pre!!’
‘O kwentuhan mo naman kami hahaha’
‘Kwentuhan ko kayo mamaya pero right now may trabaho na tayo! Medyo may kalakihan itong
gagawin natin hahaha. Punta tayo mamaya sa tinutuluyan ko. Papaexplain ko sa kaibigan ko
yung gagawin.’
‘Ok nakakaexcite to! haha’
‘Oo nga hahaha’
‘Tambay muna tayo dito! Ok lang ba sayo Tik? Ok lang ba din sayo Jed?’
‘Ok lang marami pa naming oras.’
‘Ok lang mga pare. Tayo tayo lang din naman ehh.’
‘Anong balak niyo ngaun? Hahaha’
‘Sino gusto mag comp shop? Bwahahaha’
‘Puta pre ayaw ko na hahahaha’
‘Putek nakakasawa na ahh!’
‘Oo nga! Putek Char wag ka nga magsuggest! Bwahahahaha!!!’
‘Hahahahaha!!’
‘Bwahahahaha!’
‘Uy sino sainyo nagbabasa sa creepypasta? Putek lupet nun hahaha!’
‘Hindi ko alam yun? Ano yun?’
‘Ako alam ko!’
‘Ako rin alam ko!’
‘Ako alam ko rin yun. Kakabasa ko lang kagabi hahaha!’
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‘Bano si Jed!! Hindi alam!’
‘Loser amp! Hahahaha!’
‘Hayop kayo..’
‘Hahahaha!!’
‘Ok lang yan Jed! Alam naman naming loser ka ehh hahaha!’
‘Pakyu kayo!’
‘Hahahaha!’
‘Pahiram laptop Jed. Pakita namin sayo. Basahin mo ang iyong very first pasta hahaha!’
‘Teka kunin ko sa kwarto ko.’
Jed went to his room upstairs so he can get his laptop as the other four are chatting below. He
grabbed his MSI CX640 and went downstairs but before he went down, he turned on the wifi.
‘Oh eto na.’
‘Buksan mo creepypasta.wikia.com hahaha’
‘Teka.’
‘Tapos isearch mo “Abandoned by disney” hehe’
‘Eto na haha’
‘Scary yan?’
‘Oo hahaha ang ganda ng pagkakagawa hahaha’
‘Open mo na Jed!’
Jed opened a story entitled “Abandoned by Disney”. This is the story.
Some of you may have heard that the Disney corporation is responsible for at least one real,
"live" Ghost Town.
Disney built the "Treasure Island" resort in Baker's Bay in the Bahamas. It didn't START as a
ghost town! Disney's cruise ships would actually stop at the resort and leave tourists there to
relax in luxury.
This is a FACT. Look it up.
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Disney blew $30,000,000 on the place... yes, thirty million dollars.
Then they abandoned it.
Disney blamed the shallow waters (too shallow for their ships to safely operate) and there was
even blame cast on the workers, saying that since they were from the Bahamas, they were too
lazy to work a regular schedule.
That's where the factual nature of their story ends. It wasn't because of sand, and it obviously
wasn't because "foreigners are lazy". Both are convenient excuses.
No, I sincerely doubt those reasons were legitimate. Why don't I buy the official story?
Because of Mowgli's Palace.
Near the beachside city of Emerald Isle in North Carolina, Disney began construction of
"Mowgli's Palace" in the late 1990s. The concept was a Jungle-themed resort with a large, you
guessed it, PALACE in the center of the whole thing.
If you're unfamiliar with the character of Mowgli, then you might better remember the story
"The Jungle Book". If you haven't seen it anywhere else, you'd know it as the Disney cartoon
from decades past.
Mowgli is an abandoned child, in the jungle, essentially raised by animals and simultaneously
threatened/pursued by other animals.
Mowgli's Palace was a controversial undertaking from the start. Disney bought up a ton of highpriced land for the project, and there was actually a scandal surrounding some of the purchases.
The local Government claimed "eminent domain" on people's homes, then turned around and
sold the properties to Disney. At one point a home that had just been constructed was
immediately condemned with little to no explanation.
The land grabbed by the Government was supposedly for some fictional highway project.
Knowing full well what was going on, people started calling it "Mickey Mouse Highway".
Then there was the concept art. A group of stuffed shirts from Disney Co. actually held a city
meeting. They intended to sell everyone on how lucrative this project was going to be for
everyone. When they showed the concept art, this gigantic Indian Palace... surrounded by
JUNGLE... staffed with men and women in loincloths and tribal gear... well, suffice to say
everyone flipped their shit.
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We're talking about a large Indian Palace, Jungle, and Loincloths not only in the center of a
relatively wealth area, but also a somewhat "xenophobic" area of the southern USA. It was a
questionable mix at that point in history.
One member of the crowd tried to storm the stage, but he was quickly subdued by security after
he managed to break one of the presentation boards over his knee.
Disney took that community and essentially broke it over its knee, as well. The houses were
razed, the land was cleared, and there wasn't a damned thing anyone could do or say about it.
Local TV and Newspapers were against the resort at the beginning, but some insane connection
between Disney's media holdings and the local venues came into play and their opinions turned
on a dime.
So anyway, Treasure Island, the Bahamas. Disney sunk those millions in and then split. The same
thing happened with Mowgli's Palace.
Construction was complete. Visitors actually stayed at the resort. The surrounding communities
were flooded with traffic and the usual annoyances associated with an influx of lost and irate
tourists.
Then it all just stopped.
Disney shut it down and nobody knew what the Hell to think. But they were pretty happy about
it. Disney's loss was pretty hilarious and wonderful to a large group of folks who didn't want this
in the first place.
I honestly didn't give the place another thought since hearing it closed over a decade ago. I live
maybe four hours from Emerald Isle, so really I only heard the rumblings and didn't experience
any of it first-hand.
Then I read this article from someone who had explored the Treasure Island resort and posted a
whole blog about all the crazy shit he found there. Stuff just... left behind. Things smashed,
defaced, probably ruined by the disgruntled former employees who had lost their jobs.
Hell, the locals from all around probably had a hand in wrecking that place. People there felt
just as angry about Treasure Island as folks here did about Mowgli's Palace.
Plus there were rumors that Disney had released their aquarium "stock" into the local waters
when they closed... including sharks.
Who wouldn't want to take a few swings at some merchandise after that?
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Well, what I'm getting at is that this blog about Treasure Island got me thinking. Even though
many years had passed since its closing, I figured it might be cool to do some "Urban
Exploration" at Mowgli's Palace. Take some photos, write about my experience, and probably
see if there was anything I could take home as a memento.
I'm not going to say I wasted no time in getting there, because honestly it took me another year
after I first found that Treasure Island article to get around to going up to Emerald Isle.
Over the course of that year, I did a lot of research on the Palace resort... or rather, I tried to.
Naturally, no official Disney site or resource made any mention of the place. That had been
scrubbed clean.
Even odder, however, was that nobody before myself had apparently thought to blog about the
place or even post a photo. None of the local TV or Newspaper sites had one word about the
place, though that was to be expected since they had all swung Disney's way. They wouldn't be
out there lauding their embarrassment, you know?
Recently, I learned that corporations can actually ask Google, for example, to remove links from
search results... basically for no good reason. Looking back, it's probably not that nobody spoke
of the resort, but rather their words were made inaccessible.
So in the end I could barely find the place. All I had to go on was an old-as-hell map I'd received
in the mail back in the 90s. It was a promotional item sent out to people who had recently been
to Disney world, and I guess since I had been there in the late 80s, that was "recent".
I didn't really intend to hang onto it. It just got shoved in with my books and comics from my
childhood. I'd only remembered it months into my research, and even then it took me another
few weeks to locate the storage bin my parents had shoved it all into.
But I DID find it. Locals were no help, as most were transplants who had moved to the beach in
recent years... or old residents who just sneered at me and made rude gestures the second I
managed to say "Where would I find Mowgli's---"
The drive took me through an inordinately long corridor of overgrowth. Tropical plants that had
run rampant and overpopulated the area mixed with the native species of flora that actually
BELONGED there and had tried to reclaim the land.
I was in awe when I reached the front gates of the resort. Tremendous, monolithic wooden
gates whose supports to either side looked like they must've been cut from giant sequoias. The
gate itself had been gouged in several places by woodpeckers and eaten away at the base by
burrowing insects.
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Hanging on the gate was a sheet of metal, some random scrap, with hand-painted letters
scrawled in black. "ABANDONED BY DISNEY". Clearly the handiwork of some past local or an
employee who wanted to make some small protest.
The gates were open enough to walk through, but not drive, so grabbing my digital camera and
the map, whose flip-side showed a layout of the resort, I set off on foot.
The inner grounds of the place were just as overgrown as the entryway. Palm tree stood
untended and ragged among piles of their own coconuts. Banana plants similarly stood in their
own stinking, bug-riddled refuse. There was this sort of clash between order and chaos, as
carefully planted rows of perennial flowers mixed with obnoxious tall weeds and stinking,
blackened mushrooms.
All that remained of any outdoor structures were broken, rotting wood and various charred bits
of unidentifiable material. What was most likely an information booth or an outdoor bar was
now simply a pile of assorted debris chopped up by past vandalism and ravaged by weather.
The most interesting thing on the grounds was a statue of Baloo, the friendly bear from the
Jungle Book, which stood in a sort of courtyard in front of the main building. He was frozen in a
jovial wave toward no one, staring into empty space with a silly, toothy grin as bird shit covered
whole swaths of his "fur" and vines ensnared his platform.
I approached the main building - the PALACE - only to find the outside of the building covered in
graffiti where the original paint hadn't peeled and chipped away. The front doors weren't just
open, they had been taken off their hinges and were stolen.
Above the front doors, or the gaping maw where they had been, someone had once again
painted "ABANDONED BY DISNEY".
I wish I could tell you about all the awesome stuff I saw inside the Palace. Forgotten statues,
abandoned cash registers, a full-fledged secret society of homeless bums... but no.
The inside of the building was so stark, so bare, that I actually think people had stolen the
molding off the walls. Anything that was too big to steal... counters, desks, giant fake trees...
they were all resting amid this empty echo chamber that amplified my every step like a slow rata-tat of a machine gun.
I checked the floorplan and headed to all the locations that might seem in any way interesting.
The kitchen was as you'd imagine... an industrial food prep area with all the appliances and
space, no expenses spared. Every glass surface was broken, every door knocked off its hinges,
every metal surface kicked and dented. The entire place smelled like very old piss.
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The huge freezer, not even remotely cool now, had row upon row of empty shelf space. Hooks
hung from the ceiling, probably for hanging cuts of meat, and as I stood inside for a moment, I
noticed they were swinging.
Each hook swung in a random direction, but their movements were so slow and small that it
was almost impossible to see. I figured it had been caused by my footsteps, so I stopped one
from swinging by clutching it in my fist, then carefully letting go, but within seconds it started to
swing once more.
The bathrooms were in much the same state as the rest of the place. Just like the Treasure
Island resort, someone had methodically smashed each porcelain commode with coconuts and
other implements. There was about a half inch of rancid, stinking stagnant water on the floor,
so I didn't stay there very long.
What's odd is that the toilets and the sinks (and the bidets in the ladies' room, yes I went there)
all dripped, leaked, or just ran freely. It seemed to me that they should've shut the water off
long, LONG ago.
There were plenty of rooms in the resort, but naturally I didn't have time to look through them
all. The few I did peer into were similarly wrecked, and I didn't expect to find anything there. I
thought there was actually a television or radio in one room, as I really think I heard a quiet
conversation coming out.
Though it was like a whisper, probably my own breathing echoing in the silence, or just another
case of the sound of flowing water playing tricks on the mind, this is what it sounded like...
1: "I didn't believe it."
2: (short, unknown reply)
1: "I didn't know that. I didn't know that."
2: "Your father told you."
1: (unknown reply, or possibly just weeping.)
I know, I know, that sounds ridiculous. I'm just telling you what I experienced, why I thought
there might've been something running in that room - or worse, some vagrants who had holed
up there and probably would've knifed me.
At the front doors of the Palace again, I figured I hadn't found anything of note and had wasted
the trip up.
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As I looked out the door, I noticed something interesting in the courtyard that I had apparently
missed. Something that would give me at least ONE thing to show for all my trouble, even if it
was just a photograph.
There as a lifelike statue of a python, maybe eighty feet long, coiled up and "sunning" itself on a
pedestal right in the center of the area. It was almost time for the sun to start setting, so the
light fell onto the object in the PERFECT way for a photograph.
I approached the python and snapped a photo. Then I stood on my toes and snapped another. I
moved closer again to get the detail of its face.
Slowly, casually, the python lifted its head, looked directly into my eyes, turned, and slithered off
the pedestal, across the grass, and into the trees.
All eighty feet of it. Its head long disappeared into the woods before its tail even left the sunning
spot.
Disney had released all their exotic animals onto the grounds. Right there on my floor plan map
was the "Reptile House". I should have known. I'd read about the sharks at Treasure Isle, and I
should have KNOWN they'd done this.
I was dumbfounded, just utterly stupefied. My mouth must've been hanging open for the
longest time before I came back down to Earth and snapped it shut. I blinked a few times and
backed away from where the snake had been, back toward the Palace.
Even though it was totally gone, I still wasn't taking any chances and backed my way into the
building.
It took a few deep breaths and slaps to my own face to get myself right in the head again after
that.
I looked for a place to sit down, as my legs were feeling a bit like jelly at this point. Of course,
there WAS no place to sit down unless I wanted to recline in the broken glass and dead leaf
carpet or haul myself up onto a desk of questionably reliability.
I had seen some stairs near the Palace's lobby and decided to go have a seat there until I felt
better.
The staircase was far enough away from the front of the building to be relatively clean, save for
a startling accumulation of dust. I pulled a wedge of metal off the wall, once again painted with
the "ABANDONED BY DISNEY" motto I'd become accustomed to. I placed the wedge on the stairs
and sat on it to keep at least somewhat clean.
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The stairway led downward, below ground level. Using my camera flash as a sort of improvised
flashlight, I could see that the stair case ended in a metal mesh door with a padlock. A sign on
the door... a REAL sign... read "MASCOTS ONLY! THANK YOU!".
This perked up my spirits a little bit, for two reasons. One, a Mascots-Only area would have
definitely had some interesting stuff back in the day... Two, the padlock was still in place.
Nobody had gone down there. Not the vandals, not the looters, nobody.
This was the one place I could actually "explore" and perhaps find something interesting to
photograph or wantonly steal. I had come to the Palace essentially agreeing with myself that it
was okay to take anything I wanted because - hey - "abandoned".
It didn't take much to bust the lock. Well, actually that's wrong. It didn't take much to bust the
metal plate on the wall that the padlock was hooked to. Time and decay had done most of the
work for me, and I was able to bend the metal plate enough to pull the screws out of the wall something nobody else had apparently thought of, or hadn't been able to do at the time.
The Mascots-Only area was a startling and very welcomed change from the rest of the building
I'd seen. For one, every second or third fluorescent light overhead was illuminated, even though
they flickered and faded randomly. Also, nothing had been stolen or broken, even if age and
exposure were definately taking their toll.
Tables had note pads and pens, there were clocks... even a punch-in clock on the wall complete
with filled-out time cards. Chairs were scattered around and there was even a small break room
with an old, static-filled television and long rotted-out food and drink on the counters.
It was like one of those post-apocalypse movies where everything is left in the state of
evacuation.
As I walked the maze-like sub-basement hallways of the Mascots-Only area, the sights just
became more and more interesting. As I went further, desks and tables were knocked over,
papers scattered and almost melded with the damp floor, and a large carpet of mold was slowly
overtaking the real rotting crimson floor-covering.
Everything was just sort of "squishy". Anything wood disintegrated into mush when I applied
even the least amount of force, and clothing items hanging on hooks in one of the rooms simply
fell to moist threads if I tried to unhook them.
One thing that annoyed me was that the light was becoming more sparse and unreliable as I
went further into the dank, suffocating depths of the place.
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Eventually, I reached a black and yellow striped door with the words "CHARACTER PREP 1"
stenciled on it.
The door wouldn't open at first. I figured this was probably where the costumes were kept, and I
definately wanted a photograph of that twisted, stinking mess. Try as I might, whatever angle
or trick I tried, the door wouldn't budge.
That is, until I gave up and started to walk away. That was when there was a slight popping
sound and the door creaked open slowly.
Inside, the room was completely dark. Pitch black. I used the camera flash to look for a light
switch in the wall buy the door, but there was nothing.
As I made my search, I was jarred out of my sense of excitement by a loud electrical buzz. Rows
of lights overhead suddenly flashed to life, flickering and fading in and out like the rest I had
passed.
It took a second for my eyes to adjust, and it seemed like the light was going to just keep getting
brighter until all the bulbs exploded... but just when I thought it would reach that critical stage,
the lights dimmed a bit and steadied.
The room was exactly as I had pictured it. Various Disney costumes hung on the walls, fully put
together like strange cartoon cadavers hung from invisible nooses.
There was an entire rack of loincloths and "native" clothes on hangers toward the back.
What I found odd, and what I wanted to photograph right away, was a Mickey Mouse costume
at the center of the room. Unlike the other costumes, it was lying on its back in the center of the
floor like a murder victim. The fur on the costume was rotten and shedding, creating bare
patches.
What was even odder, however, was the coloring of the costume. It was like a photo negative of
the actual Mickey Mouse. Black where he should be white and white where he should be black.
His normally red overalls were light blue.
The sight was off-putting enough that I actually put off photographing the thing until last.
I took a picture of the costumes hanging on the walls. Upward angles, downward angles, side
shots to show an entire row of frozen, putrid cartoon faces, some with plastic eyes missing.
Then I decided to stage a shot. Just one of the bedraggled character heads on the slick, grimy
floor.
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I reached for the headpiece of a Donald Duck costume and carefully removed it so the thing
wouldn't fall apart in my hands.
As I looked into the face of the wide-eyed, moldering head, a loud clattering sound made me
jump with fright.
I looked down at my feet, and there between my shoes was a human skull. It had fallen out of
the mascot head and shattered into pieces at me feet; only the empty face and lower jaw
remained, staring up at me.
I dropped the Duck head immediately, as you'd expect, and moved for the door. As I stood in the
doorway, I looked back to the skull on the floor.
I had to take a picture of it, you know? I HAD to, for any number of reasons that may seem silly,
but only if you don't think it through.
I'd need proof of what happened, especially if Disney was going to somehow make this go away.
I had no doubt in my mind, right from the start, that even if it was just gross negligence, Disney
was RESPONSIBLE for this.
That's when Mickey, that photo negative, opposite-Mickey in the middle of the floor, started to
get up.
First sitting up, then climbing to its feet, the Mickey Mouse costume... or whoever was inside of
it, stood there at the center of the room, its fake face just starting directly at me as I mumbled
"No..." over and over and over...
With shaking hands, a violently thrashing heart, and legs that had once again turned to jelly, I
managed to lift the camera and aim it at the opposite creature now quietly sizing me up.
The digital camera's screen displayed only dead pixels in the shape of the thing. It was a perfect
silhouette of the Mickey costume. As the camera moved in my unsteady hands, the dead pixels
spread, marring the screen wherever Mickey's outline moved to.
Then the camera died. Went blank and quiet and... broken.
I raised my eyes once again to the Mickey Mouse costume.
"Hey," it said in a hushed, perverted, but perfectly executed Mickey Mouse voice, "Wanna see
my head come off?"
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It started to pull at its own head, working its clumsy, glove-clad fingers around its neck with
clawing, impatient movements similar to a wounded man trying to pull himself free of a
predator's jaws...
As it worked its digits into its neck... so much blood...
So much thick, chunky, yellow blood...
I turned away as I heard a sickening tearing of cloth and flesh... only cared about getting away.
Above the doorway out of this room, I saw the final message clawed into the metal with bone or
fingernails...
"ABANDONED BY GOD"
I never got the pictures out of the camera. I never wrote the blog entry about it. After I ran from
that place, fled for my sanity if not my very life, I knew why Disney didn't want anyone to know
about this place.
They didn't want anyone like me getting in.
They didn't want anything like that getting out.
Jed and Tik were dumbfounded after they read the entire story.
‘Takte scary ahaha!’
‘Oo nga hahaha!’
‘Ang ganda ng pasta hehe’
‘Told ya niggas! Bwahahaha!’
‘Anong oras na mga brad?’
‘Mag seseven na ata ehh!’
‘Tara kain?’
‘Wait last one hahaha may sequel kaya yang “Abandoned by disney” nay an hahahaha!’
‘Oh sino game? Last basa na hahaha’
‘Tara!’
‘Game!’
83
‘Go lang! hahaha!’
‘Jed, type mo sa search “Room zero” hehe.’
‘Oks’
Jed typed in the search bar “Room Zero” and opened the web page. This is the story.
Note: This is a sequel to Abandoned by Disney.
It's been a while since I've written anything related to the Disney Corporation, and I'm sure you
can understand why.
A lot has been going on since my last post. I've received a lot of questions and concerns from
folks who read my first-hand account of Mowgli's Palace... a resort that was built and
abandoned by Disney.
I want to thank everyone who mirrored by post. It's been taken down from a few places, mostly
corporate sites that were easily leaned on by a larger power. However, for every nuked topic or
disappearing blog post, it seems like a hundred more have popped up.
This is something they'll have to face. There's no turning back for them... none for me, either...
I'm definitely being followed. For the first month or two, I chalked it up to paranoia. Any casual
glance or half-smile in my direction set me off. Hairs standing on the back of the neck and
everything.
The first one, or rather, the first one I was actually able to spot, was a telephone worker milling
around my apartment complex.
He was middle-aged, doughy, dressed just as you'd expect, but something just seemed off about
him. I couldn't place it, but I knew this wasn't just my imagination acting up. He was awkward
and out of place, not somebody who was comfortable doing his routine job.
I followed him around a corner, only to lose him there. When I turned back to go home, there he
was. Staring directly at me, about ten feet behind me. Expressionless and cold.
"Exploring?" he asked. That was all he said, and there was an accusing tone to his voice.
Tell me, what blue collar phone jockey does that?
I guess that's the worst part. Never feeling safe. Never feeling alone. That, and the occasional
Disney merchandise left somewhere for me to find. Little rubber Mickeys in the mailbox, a
Disney Adventures magazine on my bookshelf.
84
They hide little Mickeys everywhere. Three circles, one big, two small, in the silhouette of the
famous mouse's head.
I've started keeping a running list of Mickeys I've found.
Coffee cup rings on my coffee table. One big, two small. Colored glass bottles left on the
doorstep, viewed from the top down. (All red.) Graffiti on the wall on my way to work; a huge
Earth, small Sun and Moon in the proper locations.
They're everywhere.
People have emailed me about this as well. If you repost anything I have to say, you're going to
start finding those son of a bitch outlines. I guarantee it.
The best one by far, one that actually made me laugh because of the horror of it all, was a
drawing in chalk next my car. I was taken aback at first, walking through the parking garage,
keeping an eye out for people following me.
The outline seemed a perfect match for... well, a "murder victim" you're probably familiar with if
you've read my past posts.
Written in yellow... paint, I'm sure... was a single word.
"RETRACT"
The only good thing that has come out of all this is that I know I'm not the only one who's seen
something they shouldn't have.
I'm not going to give their names, because... well, if I have to tell you why, you haven't been
paying attention.
"Researcher" goes to Disney parks whenever he can, all throughout the year. He's not going to
have fun, enjoy the rides, etc.
He's looking for the Gascots.
There's been a long tradition, apparently, of people reporting strange patrons throughout the
park. Silent, motionless, staring patrons of every age, shape, and size. Men and women, adults,
children, and teens.
All wearing Disney-themed gas masks.
Way back when, Disney would get tons of complaints about "oddly dressed" folks following
others around the park. Folks who would then merge into crowds and disappear.
85
Later on, the gas masks caused folks to draw other conclusions, and reports of "possible
terrorists" and "bombers" started flowing.
All of those reports most likely went straight into the trash can. I know I can't find any sign of
any such occasions reported on by the media. (Although you should be aware of the fact Disney
can pretty much control its press like no other.)
Researcher goes to the parks, talks to a few people, and tries not to draw any attention to
himself. He'll just ask three or four families if they've seen "his friend", who's wearing a "funny
mask".
He has yet to see a gascot for himself... though on one occasion, a child pointed him toward
Frontier town. As he raced through the crowd, he heard a single voice ahead cry out "Mommy! I
want a Goofy air-mask too!"
A fellow I'll call "Lifeguard" worked in a Disney water park from 2001 through 2003. He stood at
the top of a huge water slide and made sure none of the kids got too rowdy. He passed the kids
through, one at a time, telling them over and over again to be safe, keep their arms in, and so
on.
One day, as he tells it, this fat kid goes down the tube and doesn't come out the other end.
He's sent two or three kids after, the whole thing moves at a steady clip, so naturally you'd
expect that if fatty got stuck, the kids that followed him were stuck, too.
Not so. Only the big kid disappears. Everyone else comes out the other end, cheering and
splashing like nothing's wrong.
Lifeguard shuts down the slide, much to the aggravation of the kids waiting. Before he can go
through any of Disney's strict procedures... SPLASH... fatty finally comes out.
Staff members pulled the kid out of the water. He sank like a stone when he hit, his skin already
blue and his eyes wide. All he would say was "No-face Kids" and "Stop squeezing".
The kid was okay, in case you're wondering. He got carted right off to the medical center. When
Lifeguard was told to open the slide back up, he made a big stink about how it clearly wasn't
safe. Despite his complaints, he was threatened with firing and begrudgingly opened the slide
again.
From that point on, he kept a closer eye on the kids. Every so often, they'd come out in the
wrong order... never as stunned as the fat kid, but always with a vague look of concern... a
dreamy half-stupor that seemed as if they were trying to figure out what was reality.
86
They'd take on some water and choke a bit... and they'd never come back up to ride again.
I read his emails with the same sort of unease you might be feeling right now. I wanted him to
share his own story, but in the end he didn't want to expose himself that way. I can't say I blame
him.
"Snow White", which wasn't the actual role she played, was a "character" in the park. She had a
nice little tidbit for me. You know what happens when a costumed employee drops dead in his
suit?
Like, one second he's taking a picture with little Jimmy, and the next he's had a fatal stroke?
A second costumed mascot in the area has to sit with the corpse on a curb or bench and wait for
a designated "Dry Cleaner" to arrive and cart the body away in a discrete manner. All the while,
patrons have no idea they're sitting with a dead body for photo ops.
Feel free to check your photo albums at this point.
That was bad, but another fellow, "Janitor", went completely off the creepy charts.
Disney World (and probably others) is built with a series of underground tunnels just below your
feet. Three stories' worth. Anything and everything you can imagine is down there, for use of the
employees.
They're called Utilidors. Utility Corridors.
Basically, that's the reason you don't see characters out of place or Janitors wandering through
the park. They pop in and out of hidden doors, and travel a concealed town you're walking on.
Janitor told me something that might be common knowledge, but was nonetheless news to me.
Walt Disney had several apartments built into his parks. There's one above Cinderella's Castle...
there's one in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. They're all over the place.
More than that, there are night clubs, a movie theater, a bowling alley, and much more. All
behind doors built right into the whimsical facades you passed by without a second look.
Club 22 is one such hidden area. If you have the cash to join the exclusive club (you don't) then
you'll have access to it and much more.
Club 22 is a place where anything goes. Disney Co. calls these places "Dark Zones". Spots where
the squeaky-clean visage of Mickey Mouse gives way to drinking, drugs, and, yes, sex.
Conversely, the rest of the park is the "Bright Zone", with a few "Gray Zone" utilidors between.
87
As far as Janitor has said, it wasn't always that way. It was more of a slow decline and the
gradual relaxation of social norms within that elite group.
The reason he knows all of this? You may have already guessed - He's cleaned it.
After a lengthy background check and a non-disclosure form, Janitor moved up from a park
attendant to one of the Dark Zone cleaning crew.
Now, before you get some Satanic "human sacrifice" vision in your head, Janitor saw nothing of
the sort. Lots of empty alcohol bottles? Yes. Used condoms scattered like deflated New Years
balloons? Oh, yeah. He cleaned up his share of blood, piss, and vomit, but it was all down to the
unrestricted behavior of patrons as opposed to any sort of cult behavior.
At least that's how he sees it in retrospect.
All that trash, that profane shit, went into a furnace and mingled with the smoke of a quaint
cottage's chimney.
If you've been to Disney World, you've breathed ultra-condensed sin.
Backing up this information was "Hammer". Hammer mailed me the old-fashioned way, though
I don't know how he got my home address. He sent me photocopies of work papers proving his
employment, with the instruction to burn them when I was convinced.
Which I did gladly.
Hammer worked around the Disney World park, doing demolition and construction. At one
point, he approached a superior regarding some strange construction plans.
There was wide, rectangular area marked off on the blueprints, about the size of a supermarket.
The area was left unnamed, and only bore the words "DO NOT DIG".
Not only was his superior in the dark, but he was super-fucking-purposefully in the dark. He
didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to know about it, and ended the conversation with "this
space intentionally left blank".
Hammer didn't get it. The area seemed a waste of space, and it was directly conflicting with the
work his team had been given. He started poking around the area on his off-time, finding only a
derelict steel door, and a great span of concrete just beyond.
It was a "supermarket's worth" of blank, gray floor.
Soon after, Hammer started picking gascots out of the crowds.
88
Unlike all other reports, the people... the things... would stand in full view of the guy. They'd
cluster together in the distance, or they'd just be pressed against a wall when he turned a
corner.
He said they "moved weird", like they were weak or injured... like a deer that's been run down
by a hunter and can't flee anymore.
The gasmasks... the Disney character faces with filters jammed in... he noted that they seemed
wet on the inside, like condensation on a car window. Tiny beads of water glimmered behind the
glass, making it impossible for any of them to actually see.
Probing further, Hammer started asking questions of anyone and everyone who had been
working in the park for a decade or more.
He hit dead ends throughout, until he was directed to Ida, an elderly woman who worked in a
restaurant on Main Street. She'd been there since way back, and though nobody had the balls to
ask directly, everyone KNEW she had plenty of terrible stories to tell.
Hammer asked about the empty space, then about the gas-masked customers, and at first he
thought he would receive the same non-answers he'd gotten so far. She was quiet. Eerily quiet.
"Room Zero." She croaked, a single, shaking hand placed to her cheek as if she were a little girl
fearing a Father's punishment.
She didn't meet the man's gaze for the entire conversation.
Room Zero, as it turned out, was yet another hidden room just like the apartments and Club 22.
However, its sheer size and its spot deep beneath the park set it apart from any of the "fun"
dark zones.
It was a bomb shelter.
Room Zero was built to withstand a massive attack, be it conducted by foreign or domestic
enemies.
Room Zero was to be stocked with enough rations to feed the entire park's average number of
patrons at any given moment, and housed a smaller yet lavish "panic room" of sorts for Disney
higher-ups.
During World War II, official Disney gas masks were actually produced for children to wear in
the event of an attack. The idea was that it would be less scary for kids if Mickey's face was
emblazoned on the wartime safety device.
89
Yes, I know the obvious problems with that.
During the Cold War scare of the 60s, when Disney World was constructed, Room Zero was
stocked with similar masks, as well. Whether they cared about the fears of children, or just
callous branding, the things found their way down there.
What's more, some genius decided that kids would THEN be frightened by the gas masks their
parents wore... and so all masks, adult and child, were made to comply to this insane standard.
Ida described it as "Treating a wound with lemon juice."
None of this explained what Hammer had been seeing, though. Not only the seemingly
supernatural appearances, but the emptied out room as well.
"I've been in there," he explained, "There's nothing but a cement floor and four walls."
"No," Ida shook her head and covered her mouth, stifling a sob, "You've been on top of it."
Someone or something sounded the alarm one day, when the park was at full capacity. The
warning was clear. It was supposedly an air attack.
Security ushered everyone down, down, down into the tremendous shelter. There, they were
ordered to put on their masks and hunker down for the duration of the assault.
Everything was quiet for about thirty minutes, save for the crying children and the frightened
whispers. No one wanted to die, and so they were thankful in a way for this strange measure of
safety.
Then, the first scream rang out.
"Hey!" a man shouted, "Quit pinching!"
Waves of shrieks and yelps rippled through the crowd, from one wall to the other, back and
forth.
"Who's running around? Settle down!" Someone hollered.
"Who's laughing? This isn't funny!"
"Ow! Who stepped on my foot?!"
Despite security guards' urging to calm down and keep their cool, the crowd became more and
more agitated until, finally, after nearly an hour of madness...
The lights flickered...
90
Then died.
What followed could only be described as utter chaos. In the dark, only the wails of the young
and the anguished cries of adults could be heard in a massive, swelling din that bloodied the
ears of all within that black echo chamber.
A group of staff members and a select few patrons made it out of the door, ready to face the
War above rather than the insanity below. What they found, of course, was a desolate, yet
untouched theme park. The music continued to play, echoing through silent storybook towns.
Upon returning to Room Zero, the few who stood at the top of the steel staircase that lead
down into the pitch blackness heard no sign of the previous fray. There was only silence.
Ida herself descended that staircase despite the begging of those she left above.
She reached the reinforced doors, herself now awash in darkness and hearing only the buzzing
in her ears.
A single voice came out of the darkness. The echo made it impossible to tell whether the
mocking, raspy voice was at the back of the bomb shelter, or if it was right in front of her face.
"Shut the door, dear. You're letting out the cold."
Gripped by terror, she did just that. Within days, the entire thing... shelter, staircase, all of it...
was covered with feet upon feet of cement. Air systems and generators above its ceiling were
removed, creating the large, empty space.
"They're all still down there." Ida told Hammer, "Down there with whoever that was."
You might notice I've used Ida's name.
Unfortunately, she passed away soon after telling her story. Accidental fall, supposedly, after
getting out of bed to turn on a light.
"Such a company devotee," the paper reported, "that her entire bedroom was covered with
Mickey silhouettes."
‘Gg! Scary pare! Hahaha tara kain bwahahaha!’
‘May gana ka pang kumain nyan? Hahaha!’
‘Seryoso gutom na ako!’
91
‘Hahahaha!’
‘Tara Jollibee! Hahaha!’
‘Ano mga pare? Tara kain?’
‘Tara!’
‘Game!’
‘G!’
‘Then let’s go! hahaha’
The five friends went outside to eat at the nearest Jollibee branch. There they discussed what
will happen in the future. They plan to talk to John the following day. There adventure is about
to begin.
-to be continued-
92
About the Author
Ruther John Guevarra is currently a student enrolled in De
La Salle – College of Saint Benilde. He is taking up Bachelor of
Science in Information Systems. He currently lives at Las Piñas
City. He has four other sibling all of which is studying at Divine
Light Academy – Las Piñas. He likes video games and is a fan of
the Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy Series, as well as
Bioshock, Deadspace, Dyansty Warriors series, Grand Theft Auto
series, and Assassins Creed series. He likes to watch anime such
as Gundam series and Attack on Titan. He also watches comedy
sitcoms such as The Big Bang Theory and That 70’s Show. He is a
programmer by profession and is skilled in C#, Java, and PHP. He
is currently studying Python. He is also a certified Brainbench
PHP 5.4 professional. He is also a hiphop dancer and a member of
Saint Benilde Romancon Dance Company – Hiphop. He does
choreography and is also the coach of Sleeq Crew in Divine Light
Academy – Las Piñas. He doesn’t have any experiences in writing
and this is his first book ever. So please be nice 
93
References (in order of appearance):
Links are active as of December 2, 2013
Jeff the Killer:
http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Jeff_the_Killer
The Russian Sleep Experiment:
http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/The_Russian_Sleep_Experiment
The Expressionless:
http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/The_Expressionless
Squidward's Suicide:
http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Squidward%27s_Suicide
Jeff is Back:
http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Jeff_Is_Back
The Showers:
http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/The_Showers
Abandoned by Disney:
http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Abandoned_by_Disney
Room Zero:
http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Room_Zero
94

Black and White

Transcription

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