Ɔʜɘɔʞ youɿ miɿɿoɿƨ
We go through life passing many reflections, not truly paying attention to any of them. Why would you? It is merely a reflection of light off a shiny surface. However, have you ever looked at a mirror and caught a glimpse of something else, out of the corner of your eye? Which is worse, seeing something or seeing nothing in the mirror at all? It all began a week ago, when my life began to change.
It was a normal morning, after a steamy shower, I grabbed my towel to wipe the condensation off my bathroom mirror. That was when it happened, a flash of a shadow jumping past the toilet and out the window. Shocked, I turned around to see nothing. Turning back to the mirror was what shocked me, my reflection seemed to appear more shocked than I was. It was minimal but noticeable. His eyes were wide in fear rather than confusion. I was perplexed but shrugged it off as my morning grogginess.
The next day, I thought I saw myself blink. Mundane, I know, but still rather strange. I tried blinking rapidly to trigger a mistake in my reflection but he matched every blink as if he could read my mind. I snickered a bit, realising how stupid I must have looked and went back to bed.
The 3rd day was when things got really weird. I saw the shadowy figure again. This time in more detail, lurking in the corridor. It was a tall figure, hiding in the shadows. For a short moment, I caught a glimpse of its eyes, it reflected light like a cat’s eyes. I turned to my right, to look into the corridor on my end. Nothing. When I turned back to the mirror, my reflection made a soft shake of his head. I stumbled back. It seems like he realised that the gig was up as he began pounding on the glass on his side, shouting. All I could hear was the silence, I couldn’t hear the pounds or his shouts.
I slumped against the wall, scared. I was covering my eyes hoping that whatever was happening would stop. I slowly crouched back to my room, averting any reflection.
The next morning, I woke up and went to brush my teeth, shrugging off the previous night as a nightmare. I wish it was. When I looked up into the mirror, I saw the reflection of the bathroom but I wasn’t there. I waved my hand, nothing. I rushed to check every other mirror in the house. Nothing. I lost my reflection! I was definitely panicking as I grabbed my showerhead and flung it at the mirror, breaking it. They say that breaking a mirror is 7 years of bad luck. I had a feeling that the bad luck wasn’t my biggest concern.
A few days passed after I cleared up the shattered remains of my bathroom mirror and as I removed the other mirrors from my house; trying my best to ignore my lack of reflection.
I hid in my room, remembering the monster I saw and how I felt nothing seeing it except fear. It was the feeling of looking into an endless abyss, a certain type of void that you feel drawn into.
Day 7, I had to leave my house. I ran out of food to eat. I had to go to the grocers for a quick shopping run. While shopping, I needed to go to the washroom urgently. Thankfully, I went during an off peak hour so no one else could see my lack of reflection. I locked the washroom door, to keep others out. I instinctively wanted to keep this to myself. I felt that if people saw this, they would look at me funny.
The grocery store washroom was rather decrepit. One of the lights would flicker periodically. I was already on edge so why the hell not right? Make everything creepy as hell. I swear, God loves messing with me. The washroom was a long corridor with a large mirror spanning across the many sinks. Between the flickers of the faulty light, I saw it again in the reflection. The monster.
This time, I could see him clearer. Or rather I could tell it was a ‘him’. He was tall, pale and bald. He wore nothing, revealing his grotesque, slightly hairy skin. He has a pot belly but very thing arms and legs. His skin was worn on his face like a mask, leathery and loose. The most unsettling thing about him was his long, slender fingers. They looked like they have 2 joints too many.
I leaned into the mirror in fear but it didn’t feel hard. It felt more like a liquid membrane but it was too late. I leaned my weight into it and I fell through, landing hard on the ground. Looking up, I saw him. His eyes pierced my soul as I decided to bolt away.
I ran back to my house. That was when I realised that the world I was in didn’t make any sense. Everything was mirrored. It was summer earlier but now the cold air was definitely a winter breeze. All the trees were dead. All the houses looked run down as if by years of neglect. The most jarring difference was that no one was around. All I could see was faint flickers of light jumping from where reflections would normally be.
When I reached my front door, I turned the knob only for it to fall off, severely rusted. I kicked the door open and that was when I smelt something horrible. It smelled like a rotting piece of meat with a sick sweetness to it; like a few drops of perfume on a week old Sunday roast.
That was when I saw it. My body. On the ground. Eyes wide with fear. My tongue fallen out of my mouth. My neck, twisted. I was dead. Or rather, what I saw the days prior, my reflection, was dead.
I reached for my own neck before stifling the urge to break down and vomit. I had to find a way back. The monster may have killed my reflection and he may be coming for me next. I rushed to my bathroom. Then, I remembered. I smashed my mirror a few days ago. That’s when the door to my bathroom began to creak open.
Those strange fingers began to curl around the door as I got up and proceeded to jump through the window.
“There are no laws in this world as far as I know. So, I guess breaking and entering would be okay,” I thought to myself while running through the neighbourhood.
I chose a house and burst through the door and looked for the largest mirror I could find. I jumped headfirst into it as at that point, it was a gamble I was willing to take.
I crashed against the floor. On the other side. Without time for a sigh of relief, I picked up the heaviest object I could find, a hairdryer, and proceeded to smash the mirror. I guess I made a ruckus as a few seconds later, my neighbour opened the bathroom door. She screamed and ran back to her room.
I was paralysed by my own adrenaline as I rushed towards her, trying to explain what was going on. She pulled out her taser from cupboard and gave me a jolt. I woke up a while after in police custody and began writing this entry in my phone. Watch your mirrors for any irregularities. Don’t try and go through them. As far as I know, he can only hurt you if you are on the wrong side.
.ɘbiƨ ǫnoɿw ɘʜƚ no ɘd yɒm uoy ǫniʜƚɘmoƨ ƨɒ ƨɘɔnɘɿɿuɔɔo bɿiɘw ɿoʇ bnuoɿɒ ʞool ƨyɒwlA
Weirdest occurrence so far is the use of something instead of sometimes. That really messed with my brain.
B64 - Ask for the key
Turns out, I'm full of shit, we call it Caesar's code also.
I am just used to calling it 'alphabet shift'.
I don't understand?
Just purchased my childhood house- Update 1
Alright, so with everyone telling me that going into it was a bad idea I decided to try and explore the house first to rule out something like a dumbwaiter or an Underground Railroad type situation. I started by going into the attic and dropping a small aquarium marble down into it (my fish have plenty more so no worries). It banged off the side once, and I can say with mostly certainty that the shaft is paneled with wood, which to me rules out any kind of duct system. I couldn't hear it hit anything at the bottom, though, so I suspect it's probably going into the basement, maybe to some kind of storage space or something. Again, a laundry shoot seems most likely. I had kind of a stroke of inspiration and decided to try contacting my realtor about the house to see if maybe he knows anything about it. I'm still waiting on a response but hopefully he'll get back to me tomorrow or Monday. Either way, it'll be interesting to see what he says.
So I dropped the marble in there and then decided to try and 'follow' it down into the basement. Along the way I tapped on the walls but it must be behind them because they're not hollow at all. Because of where they are there's only two rooms that might connect to it, and neither of those have a space for accessing it. The walls are definitely solid, and always have been. That, for me, conclusively ruled out the dumbwaiter theory. What would be the point of having a chute that's only accessible on two floors?
Right about then is when I started reading a lot of the comments and succeeded in scaring the shit out of myself. I act like I'm fine with it but I REALLY do not want to find a fucking body in this thing. That would suck on a bunch of levels. I know a lot of people are convinced that's what it is though, so I'm trying to brace myself for it. Anyway I was 100% too freaked out to even attempt to go into this thing until I know for a fact what's down there so I limited the rest of my search to the basement. Which is where I noticed that the room isn't a perfect square. It's ALSO short on one side, by just a bit. If you stand in the middle and look around you can actually tell that there's something a little wonk about the way the angles and stuff are. My best guess is that the foundations have shifted, but it's interesting to have the two be similar that way. Old house, probably old carpentry. Handmade, that whole thing.
So the basement is mostly finished but it's not aesthetically pleasing or meant to be. There's an old bathroom down here that doesn't do much except exist, the water doesn't run to it so it's not usable. It's on the opposite wall from the tunnel though, so it's not related I'd assume. The wall where the tunnel is is solid, just like the other floors. The basement is underground so I can't exactly go busting through the wall to try and see if maybe there was an access hatch at one point. But after using a flashlight and going over just about every inch of that wall I can safely say that there is no access to it, and never has been. This, to me, means one of two things: The tunnel is either a failed attempt at installing some kind of laundry hatch, or it's just some weird quirk of the house.
My next steps are to get the glowsticks and drop those down in there to see where it goes. After that, I'll get a broom or something and test to see if there is in fact a ladder in there. I won't go in it until I'm sure it's reasonably safe, and I'll get a friend to come over and spot me just in case.
I did spend some time checking the tunnel out just lying on my stomach and looking in, and here's what I can say about it: the sides as far down as I can see are wood paneled, which I expected. No writing on the sides, and more importantly no brackets or mounting plates for equipment. The air in there is pretty much the same temperature as the house but it almost feels pressurized? I don't know if maybe it's the closeness of the space that makes the air feel denser but you can definitely tell. I also listened in there and can't hear anything. Shined my phone down but there's no light at all so I can't really say much about depth or anything. Once the glowsticks get here we can finally see what's at the bottom!
It's unrelated, but while I was going through things in the process of checking the tunnel out I found a really cool hand-crank flashlight in my parents' stuff. It looks really beat up but it works, it's pretty cool! I found that, some rope (from Christmas trees past I assume), and I bought one of those old-person grabber hooks so I can lower a flashlight in there to see what's going on if the glowsticks don't work for whatever reason. It's pretty insane having something like this in my house, to be honest. Now that I'm spending time thinking about it I can't seem to get it out of my mind. Like what is it for?? It's like finding a safe behind a painting and having it be full of feathers. Just totally nonsensical. Old houses have quirks but this just seems... excessive. I was thinking of all those stories you hear of people finding mourning jewelry in their walls, or worse. I did a little snooping around online and couldn't find anything quite like my situation. It did remind me of something though.
After my brother and I found the door, my Dad was really adamant about us not fucking around with it. Which I found odd, because how did he know what was inside it? He'd warn us that it was really dangerous and that we didn't know where it led. At the time I brushed it off but now I'm wondering if my Dad actually got it open and knew it was just a shute to nowhere? If so, why wouldn't he just tell us that? Maybe because he didn't want us to know it COULD be opened? I really wish I could ask them.
This whole thing really makes me miss them.
I just had an awesome idea. What could you use to illuminate a fair distance and easily be lowered down a tunnel?
Christmas tree lights!
Festive and practical. If you've got somewhere to plug in a long line of fairy lights in the attic, you should try it. You don't have to worry about a phone or torch/flashlight possibly fallen from a loose knot, since the lights are already attached. And they'll be readily available in multiple stores at this time of year.
OP, I've only read to the third paragraph but I had to pause and come down to write this comment. THANK YOU for reading our comments, appreciating the potential dangers, and taking the time to think things through - instead of going off half-cocked, and probably leaving us sitting here in a few days saying "Yep, he's dead"
Thanks for the update... But now you're giving ME the creeps, dude.
Simple idea for you - parcel tie some string around your phone, open your camera app, and start recording video with the led/flash switched on.... Then lower it down gently!
Do NOT try to use a ladder even if you find one. A friend spotting you will make for a great YouTube video for sure, but firefighters having to destroy part of a load bearing wall or foundation to get you out is gonna fuck the house, and possibly you, right up.
Um...yeah. Don’t go near it. Don’t even think about it. Just kill the whole house with fire at this point.
My Friend us Camping Alone, His Texts are Starting to Scare Me. Part 2
https://redd.it/7ibbhn - Part 1
I have been working with the Denver Park Rangers and police. They’re not telling me anything. They said that they have the situation under control. I am not convinced.
Here is my last conversation with Dylan:
Me: Please tell me you’re calling the police.
Dylan: Hang on, I’m going to see how bad of shape the car is in, and yes I’m calling them.
Me: Alright let me know ASAP!
11:45 AM Me: What’s going on?
12:30 PM Dylan: Will text later. Not safe.
Me: Dylan! Please let me know what’s going on!
2:15PM Dylan: Alright, I have a second to catch you up. This is so messed up dude. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be here. Also my iPhone is dying and I’m going to have to switch over to the shitty flip phone I use for work.
Me: wtf dude, what do you mean by not safe?
Dylan: So I went to try and start my car, to get a quick charge on my iPhone, and see how bad the tires were. The engine wouldn’t even turn over. The scarecrow was standing right in front of my car, like a foot away. It smelled so bad dude, like rotting meat. I called the police and told them about the car, and that I was stuck. They transferred me to the ranger station to explain where I was for assistance. That’s when it got weird.
Me: What do you mean?
Dylan: The ranger seemed pretty lax about it at first, like “Where are you? Stay calm, we’ll send help, just stay where you are, etc.” Monotone voice like he’s used to it. But then I mentioned the scarecrow… and the ranger was different…
Dylan: He became really serious and panicked.
Heres how it went:
Ranger: “Did you say scarecrow?” Me: “yes sir” Ranger: “I need you to be very clear and very honest, son. What exactly did it look like?” Me: (I described the one back at camp, wearing my hat) Ranger: “And you said there is one by your car now?” Me: “Yeah it smells terrible.” Ranger: “What is this one wearing?” Dylan: “Nothing. Just burlap and cloth. This one’s face is frowning… Wait… it looks like something is on its chest. It has a piece of paper pinned to it.” Ranger: “Anything else?” Dylan: “Yeah, something its written on the paper.”
Ranger: “Son, I need you to listen to me very clearly.”
Ranger: “I have some bad news. I’m in my truck now, and I was headed your way. The bridge leading into your trail is partially collapsed and impassible. We’re not sure how it happened. But we have emergency crews working on it now. I need you to start moving this instant. Right now you are at the north side of the mountain, and I need you to go to the south face. That’s where we’ll meet.” “Do you have a compass and map?” Dylan: Yes sir. Ranger: Good. Alright here is the exact point to meet. (He explained where to go.)
Ranger: That’s the exact point where I will meet you. DO NOT STAY WHERE YOU ARE. Get away from your car. Most importantly DO NOT hang around any of those scarecrows. Do you understand me? If you see any more, I want you to run as fast as you can away from it. Clear?
Dylan: “I will. Trust me. “
Ranger: “I need you to keep moving.”
Dylan: “Whats going on? Am I in danger? What does the scarecrow have to do with anything?”
Ranger: Listen, just keep moving while the sun is up, and make as little noise as possible. Are you wearing bright clothing?
Dylan: “Uhhh no I’m not. I have a dark brown coat and grey pants.”
Ranger: “Good. Try and stay out of plain sight as much as possible. Move quickly, and call me if you see or hear anything unnatural.”
Ranger: “You’ll know. But only make phone calls if absolutely necessary. When night falls, stay warm and hidden. NO FIRES. If you hear anything in the night, DO NOT RUN. Stay as still and quiet as possible. “
Dylan: “Wait-, will you tell me what I should be looking for?”
Ranger: “Get moving south, NOW!”
Dylan: “Wait…I” (Click)
Dylan: Then he just hung up.
Me: Where are you now?
Dylan: Moving south. There’s creepy stuff going on.
Me: What do you mean?
Dylan: I walked by the spot where my campsite was last night. The Scarecrow, the one that was wearing my hat, it wasn’t there.
Me: Just gone? Dylan: Yes. Nothing at all.
Me: Dude I’m so sorry you’re going through this. My eyes are watering just reading your texts.
Dylan: I hate this man, I just want to be home.
Me: You gotta do what the ranger said, and well get you out of there. Do you have data on your work phone?
Dylan: No, just talk and text.
Me: Great. Plenty of battery? Dylan: Yes, thank God.
3:03 PM Dylan: I’m exhausted and sacred as hell. Still making my way to the other trail on the south side to meet the ranger.
Me: Keep moving.
3:44 PM Dylan: I see the scarecrow! The one from my camp. It’s up in a tree. Wayyy up in a tree. Dude, fuck how did it get so high up there? Me: WTF! Send me a pic.
Dylan: I can’t get a good shot. It’s so high up and this camera sucks. Its just hanging there, it looks like it’s staring at me. I’m so freaked out and tired. Something is dripping off of it. Me: Get away from it Dylan!
4:17 PM Dylan: The sun’s about to set. I’m going to find a place to sleep. Me: Dylan, you never told me what was on that note. The one that was pinned to the scarecrow…by the car.
4:32 PM Dylan: Oh shit, you’re right.
Dylan: It said… “Are you scared yet?”
Me: Who the fuck do you think is doing this?
7:01PM Me: Dylan? Are you okay?
Me: Text me back when you can. I don’t want to waste your battery.
2:02 AM Dylan: It’s getting closer.
Me: What is?
2:04 AM Dylan: fuck…it’s right next to me. Oh God I need help. Fuck wht si this thing omg omg. Is thiss thingeven human?? It can’t be. It stppped. I’m behind a tree. Idk If itt know where I am. Oh fuck, tht smell. It’s so badd. I’m going to make a run for it. It’s..it’s too closee.
2:05 Me: Oh fuck! Please tell me you’re okay. What is it!?
2:19 AM Me: Dylan? I’m going to call the police! Oh shit dude, what happened?
2:49 AM Me: I called the police. They are looking for you at the south face. Where the ranger said he would meet you. Please please please tell me you made it.
2:57 AM Me: Dylan???
3:33 Dylan: Hello.
Me: Dylan are you okay!? What happened?
3:41 Dylan: Hello.
Dylan: Are. Dylan: You. Dylan: Scared. Dylan: Yet?
4:14 AM Me: WTF?
Me: Where the fuck are you, are you okay?
That’s the last I’ve heard from him.
I am working with them now, and they are trying to track Dylan’s phones.
Update: I just heard back from the police. All they found was another scarecrow. It was sitting in the driver’s seat of Dylan’s car. It was wearing a dark brown coat, and grey pants. The scarecrow was filled with meat. They’re not sure what kind.
The police are having me fly out to Denver now.
Errrrr it might be Dylan meat :(
It sounds like people who go into the woods and encounter a scarecrow will become one themselves. The scarecrow has Dylan's phone and possibly Dylan's clothes. Or, as the others have said and as I suspect, Dylan is a new scarecrow.
Sorry for your loss, OP. Stay vigilant.
Dylan is a prolific texter
Good friend, geez. Could only imagine. “We found a bag of ... meat. Mind coming out here to identify ... this?”
“...yah I guess his parents wouldn’t mind.”
There are three sides to Youtube Part 2: The games have begun.
Ok, before we keep going I want to tell you guys a few things! I will not be posting the links to the videos here in my posts, since they don’t seem to work anyways. If you’re still interested in trying to find the videos however, tell me so in the comments and I’ll send you some links and you can try to get it to work. Second of all, some people wanted me to record the videos and post them to Youtube, and that’s something I could try to set up in the future, but I haven’t done so yet so these text post will have to suffice. Ok, enough chit-chatting, let’s keep going.
So, as soon as I got home yesterday I sat down in front of my computer to keep going down the rabbit hole and see what else laid down there. I sat down in front of my computer and looked at the screen. The video was still there, and nothing had happened. I read the title again, to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. “le§t tHE ga/mes BEGin” was still the title of the video and the description was the same as well.
I decided to calm down and regain myself before pressing play. I had to be 100% focused at all times when watching these videos, as the clues and puzzles usually just showed up for a split second and I had to pay close attention so I didn’t miss it. So I went into the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea before I went back to my computer, sat down, and pressed play.
The video started off with a black screen. No text, no images or symbols, just a black screen. Slowly something started to appear however. Some letters slowly started popping up on random places on the screen. Slowly forming words. What made the video even more interesting is that the order that the letters appeared in seemed to make for other words as well. So there was the obvious message that slowly appeared on the screen as well as a hidden message. The obvious message said “Congratulations Everyone, on making It this far through our little “Audition”. we’re happy to announce that you, along with two others, Managed to get this far. we will allow you to make contact with them In due Time, but for now all you Need to Know is that the games are about to Begun!”
All the capital letters are the first ten letters that showed up, and if you rearrange them slightly you can make out three words: “BACK IN TIME”. After that I couldn’t manage to get any other words out, since after the first ten letters they started popping up several different letters at once.
I had no idea what this could mean, but the message had pulled me in even deeper. I mean how could it not? Hidden videos, secret messages and a mysterious “game”. I was so excited to keep going.
After I had solved the hidden message I watched the rest of the video. The message stayed on the screen for about a minute and a half before it disappeared and a second message took its place. This message said “There is a hidden message in this video, find it and type it in the comments in order to qualify for the actual games. Don’t disappoint us, it’s not that hard to find.” And just like that, the video was over.
I looked down at the words I had written down and tried for about another 20 minutes to see if there was another combination of words that it could be instead, but the only thing that actually made sense was the words I had already unscrambled, so I scrolled down to the comment section and typed in “BACK IN TIME” and posted it. After just a few seconds I was greeted with a response from someone called “TI#ME%)WARPe&R”. The reply read “Correct, the Games have BEGUN” and then there was another Youtube link as well. I decided to click it immediately before I had time to consider what I was getting myself into.
The link led to a video of a slideshow with the title “Let’s staRt off with sOmEthing eaSy” (yes, I noticed that if you take all the capital letters in the title and rearrange them, you get "LOSER", but I didn't think too much of it) and there was no description. It was recorded with a camera so the quality of the video was very poor, but I could somewhat make out what the images on the slideshow was showing. There were five images in total, and I had to watch the video at least ten times before I was sure that I’d seen as much as I could.
The first one showed an old (possibly homeless) man looking straight into the camera, he had long and ungroomed hair and a wild, nasty looking beard. He barely had any teeth and the few you could see in his “smile” were every color except white.
The next image showed another old man on a hospital bed. He was very clearly sick, and his hopes of surviving seemed pretty dim, at least that’s what I gathered from the image. I couldn’t make out any of his features really, but I’m sure it was a man.
The third Image showed a third man. This man, however, was dead. I could tell since he was in a morgue and his throat was sliced open. Seeing this image was a lot to process, but I wasn’t too sensitive, so after the first two times watching the video, I wasn’t as grossed out anymore.
The fourth image was a surprise, especially among the other images, as it had no apparent reason to be in this slideshow. It had no correlation to the other pictures whatsoever… The fourth image was of some sort of monk. I was extremely surprised when this image showed up, and it’s the main reason I felt like I had to watch the video at least ten times.
The final image was just a black screen with the text “This is the legend of ______” and then a message would pop up on the video saying “Fill in the blank”.
This was the first puzzle that really had me thinking for a long time. This game was really not an easy task, and the difficulty really ramped up from the previous puzzle. I started thinking of all kinds of different cyber-legends and all kinds of stories I’d heard, but it never made any sense and I never saw what these four images had to do with anything.
I soon gave up, turned off my computer screen and went to bed. I felt like a good night’s sleep might do the trick. But the only problem was that I couldn’t fall asleep. I just laid there in my bed thinking about what all of that could possibly mean. What kind of legend were they thinking of?
Soon enough I slowly started drifting away however. All that circulated in my mind was “Old man, Sick man, Dead man, Monk”… And that was all I needed in order to figure it out.
In a split second I woke up and sat up in my bed. I had figured it out. An old man, a sick man, a dead man and a monk… There was only one legend where the four of those made sense… The legend of Buddha!
I threw myself out of bed and ran over to my computer and turned on the screen. With my entire body shaking I scrolled down, wrote “Buddha” and posted the comment and again it only took a few seconds before someone named “Sid€dha[rt&a Gaut=am}a” answered with “Correct! Very impressive. Please proceed.” Along with yet another link.
At this point I had to calm down, as I had been way too excited about figuring out the puzzle, but that’s what it does to me. I love these intense and difficult puzzles, riddles and mysteries because they give me these huge adrenaline rushes. So I sat down and took a few deep breaths to regain my thoughts and my focus before I clicked on the next link.
This time the title was “Bl%\Oo´d ba¨TH” and the description read “On.wa-rds w@e will g&O, so7!on You´ will Fi)4nd the trU}th”.
Trivia : Siddhartha Gautama was what Buddha was called before he renounced the world and became a monk.
The Buddha and finding the "truth". An interesting combo for sure. I don't much like the title of the next video OP, but you may have to keep playing. You never know what the people who created this are capable of.
It's a semi dark web site my Free Mason friend showed me, the entire site is a ritual that if you can navigate fully it will give you a vision of things to come, the truth about heaven and hell and such.
He said that there are multiple languages in there, it does not matter if you understand them all as long as you read them and the site out loud while of clear uninebriated mind and only if you truly want to know things, do not fool around on there to much my other friend did and was then in the hospital for 2 weeks very sick with an unknown illness. If you go through with it it should take you about 3 hours to read then when you sleep the vision should start, if your mind is unprepared you may die although it is unlikely as a spirit of sorts will guide you through.
You will never fear anything of this plane of existence afterwards though for the unimaginable horrors that you will see will cure you of that.
I'm gonna need those YouTube links
Edit: If you want to check out something interesting go here, click on things when your done reading a page to proceed. http://973-eht-namuh-973.com/
Because Of One Student, I Am Never Having My Class Do A Project On Their Parent's Job Again Part 3
As soon as Kyle was asleep, I silently got out of bed and walked into the hallway. I can always tell when he is out cold. His breathing gets super deep. Plus he tosses and turns a lot when he is in a deep sleep.
I inched down the hallway, taking great care not to make a sound. First I had to go down to the kitchen to get the key to the attic. We kept it in the one place we knew Hunter would never look; where we keep the vegetables. The kitchen, along with the rest of the house, was dark and silent. Grabbing the key, I made my way back upstairs.
My eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now. Our attic was accessed by a trapdoor with a ladder that folded down, every time I made a small noise, I cringed, thinking that it would wake up Hunter or my husband. Or perhaps both. But that never happened.
Taking great care not to make noise, I undid the padlock to the attic crawl space and I slowly ascended the ladder. I could feel the air getting heavier as the ladder steps creaked under my body weight. I felt my hand getting sweaty as I tightly gripped the key. Not that I am heavy or anything, quite the opposite. I take good care of myself and work out regularly. As I quietly ascended the steps to the attic trapdoor, I thought about Hunter. There was no way he was lying, and I can tell you exactly why.
Most people don't think about this, but teachers have to be keen observers of people. Kids will try to pull a fast one over you any chance they get, especially in matters relating to school. But here is the trick; kids are shitty liars and they have no idea they are. So its quite simple to watch them.
When it comes to kids in a classroom, you are in arguably the greatest possible vantage point to observe basic human nature. When dealing with kids at a young age and you have the chance to see them in the prime of life, you can see where they come from and where they are going. Especially when you have the chance to see them as they get older. It's a prime opportunity to learn how to observe and read people. Not to mention it is part of what makes an effective teacher.
Either you get with the program and adapt accordingly, or you fail. Not just yourself, but the students. Because what you observe could be a matter of grave importance.
Sadly enough, there have been cases where I've had to contact Social Services because of what I observed from a student. Not in words, oh no. But in a gesture, a look in their eye, a mannerism. The interaction with their parent or parents is also key.
Allow me to let you in on another little secret; at parent-teacher conferences we analyze parents just as much, if not more, as they analyze the teacher. Abuse, especially child abuse, is like a bad blemish on the wall. You can try to pretend it doesn't exist by covering it up on the surface as much as you like, but it's still there. It's just a matter of who can discern it. It saddens me to say it, but if a child is being abused, odds are good that a teacher will be the one to spot it.
By nature, teachers see their students every day for hours on end, so we have a much greater window to see into their lives. We see the ups and downs. When a student who was always so happy turns glum, or one of the best students grades suddenly tank, that's a sign for concern, and the cause isn't too hard to figure out.
Kids are more perceptive than people care to admit. At that age, children have a sense for anything that is out of place, out of the ordinary, or just plain different. It's why they can be so cruel to each other, they can sense something is unusual, they just can't process the reason why and comprehend it. Abuse is no different. . The child instinctively know something is amiss, they just can't quite understand it. So their behavior changes in some fashion.
When a student's behavior at school starts to change, it's usually for the following reasons; problems at home, problems with peers, drugs, or dating issues. When it comes to the students I teach, the last two usually aren't an issue; so that just leaves problems at home or with peers.
Its why when there is a conference and some issue comes up, we inadvertently ask "Is there any problems at home?" The reaction of both student and parent is always quite telling.
That is how I know Hunter truly believed what he was saying about his Dad, that was never in doubt. It was just a matter of the source he was getting it from. Hunter hadn't been acting out or anything, so there was that to consider as well.
Switching the attic light on, I took a look around. Cardboard boxes scattered around here and there, a cobweb or layer of dust decorating the odd bit of furniture, and a lot of empty space where you could see the electrical wiring of the house.
What was I looking for exactly? I had no idea really, I just figured that whatever it was would catch my eye somehow. I slowly took the attic in. Nothing really out of the ordinary here. That's another trick I've learned as a teacher. You learn how to sense things out of place. I looked around for a bit, but found nothing. After what seemed like an eternity, I turned out the light and slowly climbed down the steps again, being as quiet as I possibly could. I felt a mix of relief and disappointment wash over me, which was an odd feeling. Shouldn't I have been happy to have discovered nothing was amiss? Yes, I should be, but I wasn't.
Telling myself that I tried, I climbed back into bed. Kyle didn't move when I got back into bed, as expected. That was also a relief. Part of me expected him to confront me about lurking around in the attic or something. After a few minutes, I felt myself drift off to sleep.
Since the next day was Saturday, it meant Kyle was off to his golf game. He and his friends played golf at the local club every Saturday, and then they had brunch. Of course, there was always the possibility they might do something else after as well. Like watching a football game or something. Not to mention it was also a great way to network and meet clients. A country club is the place to see and be seen. But no matter what, Kyle always enjoyed it. Since it seemed to help him relax, I always supported it.
He left at 10 am sharp and wasn't set to come home until late in the afternoon. I had just finished up with some chores and was relaxing with some T.V. while I was going through the mail. Mostly a couple bills, all the usual suspects; car, electric, and gas. I was just about to put them away when I saw a statement from our health insurance provider. Skimming it, something caught my eye.
They documented that they had covered an office visit on September 15 with a Dr. Neil McFarland. From the looks of it, it was a pretty expensive visit, which meant it wasn't just some random checkup. September 15 was a Friday and I remember Kyle had to leave work early. He said it was a meeting with a client downtown.
I was instantly suspicious. None of us had any such visit to a Dr. McFarland, at least not that I knew of. I tried calling our health insurance provider, but since it was Saturday they were closed. What really had me uneasy, there was also a prescription that was covered. I had no idea what the drug was, so I looked it up. It was a sedative, a really powerful one.
Part 1 https://redd.it/73m7rq
Part 2- https://redd.it/73uyba
The sedative may be for your husband as well. He didn't wake up when you got into bed, or any sounds you made. Maybe the man is having a hard time sleeping.
Your health provider's office was closed because SATURDAYS ARE FOR THE BOYS
Make sure you don't eat or drink anything you haven't prepared, opened or poured yourself. Stay safe!
This means that Saturdays are a time where you and some of the finer gentlemen you know ("the boys") get together and indulge in a variety of endeavours. Some of these endeavours may include things such as cracking open a cold one with said "boys", a round of golf as Kyle has opted, or perhaps a lunch BBQ with college football playing. Regardless on the activity chosen, it is well acknowledged and celebrated that Saturday will be spent with lads.
Now, the next time you're out enjoying a few beverages with your mates and one of them gives you the alcohol-induced bellow "WHAT'RE SATURDAYS FOR???!!!", you are now well equipped to answer that question; undoubtedly, the boys.
Some Cultures Believe That A Shooting Star Is Actually A Soul Being Freed From Purgatory
Some Cultures Believe That A Shooting Star Is Actually A Soul Being Freed From Purgatory
Jenna turned her head towards me; the stars of the night’s sky glimmered in the reflection of her glossy eyes. She took another drink from her glass.
“You know, Fab, I’ve always wondered if there were others out there. Another distant planet, far, far away, with people just like us. They’d lay together, same as we do, and watch for shooting stars. I’ve always hoped we aren’t the only ones who feel deep emotions: love, jealousy, anger, excitement. All the things that make us human. What would we be without these emotions?”
I let out a deep sigh.
“I don’t know, honey. I could only assume that there are people out there, conscious, aware, living their lives by the day. The only thing is, I hope that they’re happy. You and I, Jenna, we have each other. But there’s 8 billion people on this planet, and not all of them are as fortunate as we are.”
Jenna turned her head back toward the sky. I could see a single tear stream down the side of her cheek. I wiped it with my finger and refilled her glass with the bottle of wine in my other hand.
“But Jenna, the possibilities are infinite. I bet there’s a planet out there with another 8 billion people, only they’re all happy, and they all have someone to hold when they’re sad. Someone to share their excitement with. Hell, one of these stars,”
I pointed my finger upwards,
“could be a perfect world. There isn’t a thing we could do to get there. Not in this lifetime.”
“Look, Fabio, a shooting star! That’s the first one!” Jenna gripped my hand tightly in excitement.
I let out another sigh, took a drink from my glass, and put on a smile. Jenna… she was one of a kind. There wasn’t a soul like hers, even out of the infinite worlds that were in front of us.
“You know, Jenna, some cultures believe that a shooting, or fallen, star is a soul being released from purgatory - sent to heaven – finally given their eternal happiness. There’s many other beliefs of course, but that one’s my favorite.”
Jenna’s eyes continued to peer out into the endless, inky blackness. She smiled. “I like that one too,” Then took another sip of her wine.
I closed my eyes. I thought of all the suffering in the world; innocent people being tortured and starved, animals being hurt and used for their bodies, our beautiful planet being destroyed by all of the evil and corruption that mankind had been tainted by. It made me sick. I wished it would all go away, but I can’t change the stars. I can’t turn back time to when everything was at peace. The only thing I could do is work with what I was given. I hoped that I had done the right thing for Jenna, bringing her to my special place, showing her where I spent many hours alone, thinking about the world and the people that inhabit it.
I felt Jenna’s grip fade away. I opened my eyes to see another shooting star. “There’s another one!” I shouted in excitement.
I turned on my side to see the life had faded from Jenna’s eyes; her face still holding that innocent smile.
“I love you, Jenna.” I whispered softly, taking the final sip from my glass; a bottle of merlot I had prepared for our special moment lies empty beside me.
She had over-indulged. It was meant for us both to share as we searched the night’s sky for shooting stars. I wanted ours to be together, I wanted us to ascend into the heavens - side by side. She would’ve never agreed if I had told her, but it was for her own good. We needed to be freed from this purgatory we called life.
Be patient, sweetheart, it’s only a matter of time before another star shoots across the blackness of the sky. I'll see you soon.
Murder suicide is soooo romantic
Yikes...Jenna really downed those glasses.
When Freddy Followed the Schoolgirls Home
When we were kids we all thought Freddy must be the biggest person in the world. He was six foot five and broad as a refrigerator, and though his sheer size was certainly impressive, his intellect was not. From the mismatched and sloppy clothes featuring children’s cartoon characters to the disheveled hair and the slack look of disinterest that perpetually graced his features, one look at Freddy was enough to let you know that he was slow. Nobody on our street had ever heard him say a word, and as far as we knew he couldn’t talk at all.
He was in his early twenties, which meant that he’d been in the neighborhood for as long as any of us kids could remember, so most of us paid him no mind. And he really wouldn’t do much of anything exciting; just stand in the front yard and watch the girls as they came home from school.
So, when Freddy followed the schoolgirls of the neighborhood to their homes one day, we found it a little odd, but certainly nothing to be overly worried about. The strange thing was that he did it again the next day, and the day after that. At this point us girls started to get a little unnerved, but we didn’t think about telling anyone what was going on. After all, we all knew Freddy. He was harmless, right?
So we just ignored it. A couple of the braver girls tried asking him to stop, but all they got in response was Freddy’s slack-jawed stare. I guess he really couldn’t talk after all. It seemed like things would just go on like this forever, until what happened to Sarah.
Sarah was the one in our group who lived the farthest away from the school, which meant that every day she walked the last half mile to her house alone. Well, not exactly alone; she had Freddy. Well, one day she never came home. Her mom waited, called our moms- no one knew where she was. That’s when Eleanor finally piped up about Freddy.
Eleanor’s mom called Sarah’s mom, and Sarah’s mom called the cops. When they went to Freddy’s house, they found her in the living room, shaking like a leaf as Freddy sat on the floor and stared at her. Her story went that he had grabbed her up out of the street and tucked her under his arm like a football, sprinting the distance to his house, and setting her down on the living room sofa. She was too afraid of what he’d do to her if she screamed for help so she just stayed there and closed her eyes.
But Freddy didn’t do anything to her. For the two hours that he had her there all he did was stare.
After that there was talk of locking Freddy up, but seeing as he hadn’t actually done anything to harm the girl, the police let him off with a slap on the wrist and sent an escort to walk the girls home from school every day. That’s just the way things are done in small towns I guess.
Well, this didn’t sit right with us girls for obvious reasons, but what could we do? We all figured we’d be safe as long as the officer was there.
Unfortunately, the officer didn’t much care for his ‘babysitting’ duty, and one day when an emergency call came through dispatch he decided to ditch us and head off to do some ‘real policework.’
That day we decided we’d all walk Sarah to her house together. Safety in numbers, right? We were about a half mile from the house when we heard a noise like a wounded animal, and loud enough to make our ears hurt. We all turned around to find the source, and Sarah screamed as she saw it--Freddy was barreling towards us as fast as his tree trunk legs could carry him, mouth agape and wailing.
We all booked it, scattering like balls on a pool table. He ignored us, making a beeline for Sarah, when a gunshot cracked the air like lightning. Freddy’s shoulder jerked back, but he didn’t slow down. I stopped for a moment expecting to see the officer, but I didn’t.
A man had grabbed hold of Sarah with one hand and was waving the gun with the other as he dragged her to a windowless van. Sarah was screaming and biting the man’s arms, but he didn’t even seem to notice as he dragged her back. I can still remember how wide his eyes were, the pupils expanded like black bottomless pits, swallowing up the iris.
Freddy’s shoulder wound had soaked through his shirt as he raced towards the two of them. The man raised the pistol again and the air was broken by a loud crack--the crack of Freddy’s fist slamming into the man’s jaw.
I’ve never seen anyone hit someone else that hard since, but the man’s face instantly gave way and he flew through the air like a rag doll.
Sarah wrenched herself out of his limp fingers and just stood there staring wide-eyed at Freddy, but Freddy didn’t say anything. He just patted her on the head like you would a puppy and then sat down on the ground and stared into space as the blood from his shoulder slowly soaked his shirt.
The police investigation revealed that the man had spotted Sarah one day as she walked home from school and begun following her. Inside the van they found rope, duct tape, knives, and about a dozen journals filled with psychotic ramblings about Sarah, along with a large supply of PCP. If that wasn’t enough to shake us girls up, the police matched his DNA to three open rape/murder cases of teenage girls in the state.
Freddy ended up being fine--even though the doctors said he should have bled out, the wound hardly seemed to faze him. He lost a little function in his arm, but other than that he was fine. And after that, none of us protested when Freddy wanted to walk us home.
Shit. If Freddy can take down a man on PCP he is definitely invincible.
I was really worried that this was going to be some story encouraging being afraid of mentally disabled people.
I was happy to find otherwise.
Awww good Freddy!
My buddy (Jake we'll call him) is 18 and still lives with his parents. He'd been complaining for days now about some 'assholes' who had taken to hanging around his house every night. "Just call the cops if it bothers you" another of my pals (Tony) advised him. "My Dad tells me not to bother, says they aren't harming anybody and to just leave them to it, but it freaks me out the way they keep glancing at our windows, would you guys come stay over at my place while my folks are away?" There were sniggers from many of our group, I remember the word 'pussy' being thrown around a lot, but myself and Tony took pity and agreed to stay with him. Jake's parents frequently took trips out of town, making his place the usual party venue, on this particular occasion they were going to be gone a week starting Saturday.
So Saturday came along, I threw some supplies in a bag and drove to Jake's house, picking up Tony along the way. The relief on Jake's face when he opened the door to greet us showed how much this shit was getting to him. "I take it they haven't stopped?" (It had been 2 days since we last spoke), he just shook his head. We spent the rest of the day drinking beer, playing Xbox and teasing Jake. "They probably just want a better look at your Mom dude, can hardly blame them" earned Tony a punch in the arm. We were all enjoying ourselves, but I couldn't help but notice Jake nervously peeking out the window from time to time.
By the time the sun had set we were all pretty drunk, giggling like school girls over nothing in particular, when all of a sudden Jake fell silent. I followed his gaze out the living room window to see 3 hooded figures standing motionless in the street, none of us had seen them approach. Tony, still giggling, received a small nudge, he too fell silent. I was the first to speak "ok I can see why they creep you out". We watched them for a good 5 minutes, while their silhouettes watched us, they hadn't moved an inch in this time. "They haven't done that before" Jake said quietly.
Tony rose from the table (we had been playing cards prior to their appearance) and walked over to the light switch, a small click and we were plunged into darkness. We kept watching, so did they. "Ok fuck this" fuelled by booze, Jake rose from the table and stormed over to the front door, wrenched it open and yelled "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU CREEPS STARING AT?". No reply, but their heads moved as one to stare at Jake on the door step. "Guys" Jake shouted back at us "call the cops". Tony grabbed the house phone and dialled 911, but as he did so Jake's voice came again "guys, call the cops". Only it didn't come from Jake.
The figure that spoke in my friend's voice then started walking straight towards Jake standing on the doorstep. It's movements were totally unnatural, ridiculous even, if the situation hadn't been so tense we might have laughed our asses off. As it was, we were terrified. It's arms hung loosely by it's sides, swinging limp like a pendalum, it's legs moved in short, jerky movements, and the head just rolled and rolled around the neck. And it was quick.
Jake yelled out in fear as he stumbled back through the doorway, the figure almost on top of him as he slammed the door with all his might and yanked the deadbolt across. "Guys, call the cops" came the voice from the other side of the door "guys, call the cops". Tony's trembling voice came out in the darkness "I need the police, this is an emergency" and proceeded to explain the situation as well as he could. After telling them the address they told Tony to stay on the line, and that a car was on it's way. The voice on the other side of the door stopped repeating itself.
Now I've read a lot of horror stories in my time, and I know this is something of a clichè, but I shit you not the thing started laughing. Laughing so hard you could hear it struggling for breath. And if I hadn't been scared before then, I fucking was now.
This is my first attempt at writing anything like this so please let me know what you think, wrote this on mobile too so excuse any errors!
What. The. Actual. FUCK. Uhm update soon please! Let us know what happens when the cops arrive! I dont know of anything else that can mimick voices besides a wendigo? I could be wrong but holy shit that's terrifying. Hope yall are safe!
This reminds me of that post I read about this guy who asked his brother to come over and then someone else who was imitating his bro's voice was on the front door.
Earlier tonight I heard my boyfriend say my name over and over again but he swears he didn't.
Doppelgangers can also mimic as well as crocotta, Phooka, and wendigo.
The Life of A Dispatcher - Tanner
I’m often asked which calls bother me the most. Some dispatcher have trouble with suicide, and others have trouble with domestic violence and the like. I, however, have trouble with calls that involve rape or drug overdoses due to past experiences in my life.
This one call, in particular, made me snap to the point of suspension. I was suspended for 4 weeks after this incident and rightfully so. Had I not explained myself or had any prior incidents, I would have been fired on the spot. There is usually no tolerance for the type of behavior I displayed. I was unprofessional and no matter the situation I am dealing with, I am supposed to be unbiased. However, I couldn’t in this situation.
A little back story: when my girlfriend was 18 years old – this was a few months before we had initially gotten together – she had been drugged with the date rape drug at some college party. Thankfully she was only molested and not raped due to the fact that her friend had found her. But since then, a part of me has always been bitter and resentful towards anyone who could commit such an act.
For confidentiality reasons, all names have been made up.
This call was placed just after 1 am on a Friday night.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“We fucked up really fucking bad – fuck sakes. I’m at a party at (address).” I could hear music blasting in the background as a young man yelled over the phone to me. I was on speaker. There were other voices but I couldn’t make out what they were saying in the midst of all the music.
“Can you tell me your name? What happened? I can barely hear you.”
“Tanner – I think she’s having a seizure and like puking or something – I didn’t know.” He was hysterically sobbing into the phone at this point.
“Okay Tanner, I need you to turn her on to her side and put something under her head. If she’s seizing she might choke on her vomit, so you need to keep her turned over and make sure her mouth stays open. Do not hold her down though, you might hurt her.” I sent out a dispatch.
“Cole, are you deaf? He just said not to hold her down. Stop holding her fucking legs, dude.” He was yelling over to someone else.
“Tanner, can you tell me what happened and who are you with? Did you find her like that?”
“No we did this to her – um – fuck. It’s me, Cole and Mike. Is she going to die, she’s not stopping.”
“Okay, I just need you to keep her on her side. What exactly happened?” He didn’t need to tell me what was happening for me to realize what was going on.
“We put some stuff in her drink – some guy gave me it and said it works. We didn’t know it would end like this – we fucked up, man. So fucking bad.” He was sobbing into the phone and the rational person inside of me completely disappeared. The anger inside me started to build.
“Do you know what it was that you gave her? How long has she been seizing? Why would you drug her?”
“It’s been a few minutes. She kind of stops for a bit and then starts again. I – I don’t know what we gave her, I – I didn’t ask the guy. We just wanted to have a good time with her, you know? I didn’t think –.”
“No, you didn’t think.” I practically spat the words out. “I can’t be certain but it sounds like she’s having an overdose. How much did you put in her drink?”
“It was in a little bag and I dumped it in – I didn’t know how much to give her.”
“You shouldn’t have given her anything in the first place. The police and ambulance are on their way.”
“Are we going to go to jail for this? It wasn’t like we wanted this to happen – it was a mistake. What if she fucking dies?”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t, either way, it isn’t looking good for any of you. Let’s focus on her, is she still seizing?” The bitterness in my voice was present despite knowing that I always had to be objective to the callers no matter the situation.
“No – no. She’s not. Is that bad?” I could barely hear him over the sound of the music in the background, it sounded like it was getting louder.
“Is she breathing?”
“I – I don’t know.”
“You need to check that for me. If not, you need to start chest compressions.”
“You fucking check – this was your fucking idea.” Tanner yelled over to someone who was protesting the idea of checking her breathing. At this point, my own temper was rising.
“Who cares who checks her breathing? Just fucking do it. If she dies, it’s on all of your hands.” I snapped through the phone.
“O – Okay” Tanner took a moment mumbled something in the midst of sobbing and broke down on the phone “She’s not fucking breathing. Did we fucking kill her? Holy shit.” I could hear him starting to do chest compressions on the girl.
At this point I was screaming obscenities at the young men on the other line, accusing them of murder and telling them that they were all going to rot in jail for murder. My supervisor at the time cut in immediately when she heard my commotion and then took over the call.
Unfortunately, the girl did, in fact, die from an overdose, she was 16 years old. The 3 men involved in the incident were 19 years old were charged with criminal negligence causing death – their sentence was 4 years with the eligibility of parole seeing as though it was all their first offense.
However, if you ask me – four years of imprisonment isn’t enough for what they did to that poor girl. Two of the three were released on good behavior after serving two years of their sentence. They, in turn, were shunned by most of the members of the city for what they did. I have no idea what they are doing now and where they’ve ended up but I honestly couldn’t care less. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but I’m willing to live with that.
I would have reacted the same way. What they did was absolutely disgusting and they should rot in prison for the rest of their lives.
If not murder, then they should have at least been charged with attempted rape, and manslaughter. Maybe a few other crimes as well. As always, I love these stories.
I couldn't agree more.
They should serve the entire 25 to life for a first degree murder charge. They drugged her with intent to do malice. In some places that's a murder charge.
Date rape drugings happen too often. Hell, one is too many. You reacted the way you did for good reason. You have a heart, soul and conscious. Too bad the idiots that doped the kid didn't have either of those traits.
I can see people's auras... and it's a curse.
Yes, I can see people’s auras.
And I hate saying it so bluntly. It makes me sound like some hack psychic who fakes the ability as a means of exploitation and a paycheck. I’ve never made money from my ability. I’ve never taken advantage of it. And, until now, I’ve never spoken of it to anybody.
But I really do see them, and I’m starting to view it as more of a curse. I have a reason for typing this out and I assure you, there isn’t a happy ending.
For me, it’s quite simple. I see a faint light surrounding people. Everyone. And in that light, I can see their morality. The brighter and more translucent the light is, the better the person. The darker and opaquer, the worse. Dim and partly translucent are morally ambiguous. To simplify things, those are the three ways I describe them. Dark equals evil. Bright equals good. Dim equals somewhere in between. It’s strange, I’ve always viewed the people with grey/dim auras as… arbiters. Mediators. The people in between, who aren’t one or the other, and will always have difficult decisions to make.
I was a child when I first became aware of my gift. It didn’t take long to figure out that the brighter auras were kinder to me and selfless. While both of my parents are good people, my father’s aura was quite a bit brighter than my mothers. As a result, he was always far more patient and understanding with me. It was clear to see that my teachers and fellow students with brighter auras were usually friendlier and more compassionate. The dark auras were the stereotypical fighters, lunch money stealers, and bullies. I would say I was around 8 years old when I fully figured out that I have a gift that most people don’t have. That possibly nobody else has.
I’ve read some of the ‘new age’ websites and alternative medicine articles that give their take on aura reading. While I believe that the vast majority of it is bullshit, I expect there must be at least SOME other people out there with my ability. So I don’t want to completely dismiss those people as an outright hoax. It’s just that, for me, it doesn’t work anything like the way those websites describe. I’ve visited numerous aura readers and psychics. Most of them have dim or dark auras themselves, and I’m certain they don’t really hold this power. I’m not saying all “psychics” are terrible people. I’ve visited a few who had very bright auras. They were unable to convince me that they really have psychic powers, but they at the very least used their deception to try and help people.
You need to understand… I’m going to end this entry by sharing a terrifying event that is happening to me. But before I get to that, I think there are a few more things I need to explain. I imagine many of you are curious as to what type of aura is the most common. I’m happy to tell you that the majority of people are somewhere between dim and bright. I see very few dark auras. This isn’t scientific, and I haven’t traveled the world plotting out charts and graphs, but I’d estimate around 60% of people are bright-ish. Around 25% dim-ish. Leaving just around 15% dark-ish. Again, these are just estimates. What’s the precise difference between, say, bright and dim? I have no idea. But rest assured, there is far more “bright” in the world than “dark”.
The next thing I’d like to discuss is children. I can see a person’s aura right from birth, and I’ve never encountered an aura changing as someone ages. I’m not sure what this means for the whole nature vs nurture debate. And I’m not saying that everyone with a dark aura always behaves terribly, or vice versa. A person with a bright aura might be born in horrible conditions, acquire a drug problem, and then resort to thievery to feed their addiction. I think the difference is this… a bright aura thief with a horrible upbringing may rob someone, but they would never intentionally hurt someone in the process. A dark aura thief would kill someone if they could get away with it without even a second thought.
Another interesting note… I find the ratio between bright/dim/dark to be similar across pretty much all human activities. Whether I’m at a church or a death metal concert, it always seems to be around that same 60%-25%-15% ratio. I once visited a federal prison and was shocked to see that at least half of the prisoners had bright auras. I had to be at the prison in person to see this because I can’t see auras on photographs, television shows, movies, or even in mirrors. I can only see auras in the real world. Another strange thing… I can’t even see my own aura. I assume and hope I would be on the brighter spectrum… but I can’t see it.
The brightest person I ever saw worked as a social worker. She shone so bright that it was difficult for me to even look at her. Based on the way people acted in her presence, I think that almost everyone around her could sense her brightness in a subconscious way. Everyone loved her. She had donated a kidney to someone she barely even knew. She had a special needs adopted child. Most of the money she earned was donated to various charities. And that’s only the little that I knew of her. This woman shined so brightly that she scared me. It was scary that someone could be so good.
But it wasn’t nearly as scary as the darkest person I ever saw. I was 20 years old at the time, leaving a club downtown at 2 am. A man quietly walked down the street. I didn’t see him at first, but I noticed the light dimming around me. This man was so dark that he partly absorbed the light around him. I looked at him long and hard. He looked desperate, cruel, and callous. When he looked up and locked eyes with me, it made me fall back. He smirked, as though he knew what I could see. I saw his face up close. I would never forget it. And I recognized it when I saw his mugshot a few weeks later in the newspaper. He had murdered his ex-wife and two children in cold blood.
I think I need to get to it now. The reason why I’m writing this out.
I fell in love a year ago. She didn’t shine anywhere near as bright as what I’ve seen before, but she most assuredly wasn’t dark or even dim. She was beautiful. Her sense of humor, her wit, her.. everything. She was my dream woman. And I’ve never told her anything at all about the auras I see. I could go into far more about her but this isn’t a love story. What’s important is this: We fell in love. She got pregnant. We got married. We were happy. We were so happy.
I remember hearing the buzz of my phone two mornings ago. I remember my excitement when I saw “It’s happening. Come to the hospital.” I remember my frustration when I got stuck in traffic. I remember how long it took to find a parking spot. I remember shouting at a nurse “WHAT ROOM IS MY WIFE IN.” I remember bursting through a door and seeing the smile on my wife’s face. I remember seeing the doctor, his light shining so bright, as he told me “Congratulations, it’s a boy.”
The doctor held him up to me.
And all the light in the room dissipated.
“No, this can’t be.” I remember saying. The doctor put him in my arms.
The darkness around my son was so absolute that I could barely even see him. He was a void. He was so dark that the world barely even existed around him. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I started weeping. I think my wife and the doctor thought they were tears of joy. But they weren’t. Lord knows they weren’t.
I think back to the dark outline around that man that murdered his family. It was up to that point the darkest I’d ever seen. But the darkness around my son was 100 times worse. A thousand times worse. And what could possibly be a thousand times worse than murdering your entire family?
It’s been two days. We’re home now. My son’s darkness is so extreme that it dims the hallway leading to his room. My wife knows something is wrong. I think she suspects I’m having regrets about having children at all. If only she knew…
What do I do? He’s my son. Just 20 minutes ago I stood above him, holding a pillow over his face. But I couldn’t do it. Not yet anyway. A man who could murder his two-day old baby boy: what color would his aura be?
And here’s the thought that keeps going through my mind as I sit here alone. The fathers of our worst. The Adolf Hitler’s. Joseph Stalin’s. Timothy McVeigh’s. If their fathers knew what they would become, would they murder them in the cradle? Would they have the strength to hold down the pillow as long as it takes?
I can see the door of my son’s room from my office. The hallway seems to be growing darker. I look down at my hands as I type this. Maybe I’m going crazy, but there seems to be an aura around my hands and arms now. It’s gray. It’s dim. Maybe it’s always been dim.
I’m looking down at the pillow beside me. The grayish dim outline around my hands more apparent than ever. Maybe it’s time. Maybe this is why I have this gift. It all comes down to right now.
Maybe it’s time.
I think it’s time.
If a theif can have a bright aura, why can't a dark aura do good things?
I like to think of the auras as morality.
While a guy with a dark aura would do something seen as good, they would have done it for something that benefited them, instead out of pure selflessness.
What if you passed on your gift to your son, and people with the gift cant see each other's auras? Instead you are the equivalent of "Color blind" to his Aura and see pure darkness instead?
Have you looked at other newborns? Maybe it takes a small time for aura's to manifest?
While a tragic story, beautifilly written.