White Ditto

This story is true, and to this day has freaked me out, so I figured I'd share it for Halloween since it is almost here and since it is one of my favorite holidays. I have never told anyone this before because it has been so bizarre for me to take in. Could my game be "haunted"?

Is there more to the MISSINGNO glitch than meets the eye? Did some GameFreak developer die while working on this game and is this is some kind of tribute, or could this even be a paranormal happening?? I don't know, but this freaks me out. Enjoy. :/

The background music is the theme that played in Lavender Town in the game, but reversed. The picture is some weird Jigglypuff thing I found off google images. Fitting to say the least.

EDIT: Right after I got through uploading this at 5.30am in the morning, my phone rings... it says "Private Caller" on the caller ID and they leave no message. WTF. Who could be calling at this hour?

Watch til the end, holy shit. Also, I have some good news, and some bad news.

The good news is I re-installed Vegas after I recorded this video and it is working. Even though I am freaked out and slightly scared, I plan to post the ending to the story and my explanation of the events soon because you guys are so interested.

More good news is that I bought a device that will let me transfer my Pokemon Blue Save file to my computer to be played on a rom so I can record it and show you guys the infamous creepy "White Ditto" as well as a freaky event that happened in-game that will be revealed in the story conclusion.

The bad news is that I don't know what other bad luck or strange happenings will come my way, or what may halt my progress with this strange video game phenomenon. It definitely seems some outside force does NOT want me to share any of this, though.

Everyone thinks this is a creepy pasta, or a Halloween prank. Despite how many times I say "this is real" people on the internet will believe what they want. So, do just that, I don't care. But I'm glad this has received such a good response and is entertaining regardless of what you believe. It's just a shame this has all been so stressful for me, as these "paranormal happenings" really do scare me.

Ok, so, I had to re-install Sony Vegas just to edit this. The music used is a slowed down version of Lavender town music.

No matter how many times I say "this is real" or "this isn't a Halloween" prank people will believe what they want, so draw your own assumptions. I'm on the fence as to whether or not this is coincidence or something paranormal.

The blue theory is very interesting one that you guys pointed out. Everything that has been messed with or has screwed up has been blue. This includes; the blue cartridge, the glacier blue gameboy, the blue SD card, blue screening Laptop, a drawer with blue items in it, Sony Vegas' icon is blue, my blue LED mouse, and now, I realize, even my Blue Snowball. My Twitter page, which is blue, keeps saying I don't exist sometimes when people try to go to it. What could it all mean? Could something be trying to lead me on with clues? I don't know.

I now have a fever though and am laid up in bed. I've been having some bad headaches too. So I'll save some more explanations for the next video.

Here's the paranormal investigation I did a year ago that I reference in the video... I think this might be related somehow: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aarz02U-nT8

I will have footage of the white ditto on my channel tomorrow, along with another weird anomaly I discovered on my version of the game.

Re-posting this as for whatever reason, the old video was deleted from my videos here on YouTube. The quality might be worse than the old one too, so sorry.

So, this investigation was done in my former home. The last time I played Pokemon Blue was around this time period, and before the investigation, my friends and I did in fact use a Ouija board. I really think this has something to do with the events occurring in my new home, and I think it has something to do with the Blue cartridge.

I haven't messed with the cartridge for a few days now. I've been trying to stay out of my house and have been going over to friends' houses a lot. I did transfer the save file from the cartridge to my PC though to easily record the white ditto, but I haven't bothered to record it yet. I bought another Gameboy and its shipping to me in due time. I'm afraid it will break as well though. We'll see.

What could all this mean? The blue items being messed with, videos vanishing, the white ditto... I feel as if I'm trying to figure out a puzzle with missing pieces. Please leave your thoughts below in the comments, I need your help in uncovering what is actually going on.

Ok, so after transferring my save file from my cartridge over to my PC, I was able to record this without any technology problems... sort of. However, as I suspected, the emulator/screen recorder crashed soon afterward, oddly enough at the same time. I am going to mess around in the game more and try to record stuff for you guys.

Lately the odd sounds in my house are getting worse. I'm going to start recording myself at all times, or at least parts of my house to see if I can catch anything to upload.

At this point, I am genuinely scared. After this was recorded, I captured something on Blue a second ago that pretty much solidifies that all this is connected to the game. I'll upload it tomorrow. It's the strangest thing I've ever seen.

Also, please realize that I can't upload commentated gaming videos unless I go to my friend's house as my mic is on the fritz. Please be patient and stop annoying me about it in the comments, thankyou.

EDIT: There is definitely no "cut" at 1:52 in the video, but a camera glitch or glitch that happened in rendering that was not my doing. I just looked at it and it "replays" the same scene that just happened for a split second. Very odd, could be a frame skip or something. A little later on the camera pixelates and cuts out as well, so I'd say its the camera and not something that glitched in the render.

I don't know what to title this video, so I'll just make the title what the capture program assigned it. Anyway, the story goes like this.

While waiting for my Gameboy Advance to come in the mail (stupid ebay and their slow shipping) I decided, since the save for my Pokemon Blue is on my computer, that I would play around on it and see if I could catch any other odd occurrences, as I was certain that this game and the paranormal events that are currently happening to me are somehow related.

So, I started up the game, started my screen capture program, and right away I noticed something strange. The white Ditto had magically gained 15 levels and was at around half health. Now, I hadn't touched the game since I recorded the "original" white Ditto video, and no one else has access to my PC, so I don't know how the hell this happened. But, I just chalked it up to some random glitch/bug and moved on.

I noticed on my save file that I only had 6 badges, so I looked to see which gyms my cousin hadn't beaten. One was Viridian, obviously, and the other was Saffron. So, I boxed some of the higher level guys my cousin had glitched and/or obtained, and brought out some of the guys I was using before I let him borrow the game, like Magmar, Muk, etc. I then set out to Saffron, battling some random trainers on the way, obtaining some useful TM's like Psychic from Mr. Psychic's house, and so forth.

I always loved Saffron as a kid because there were TWO gyms instead of one; the traditional Psychic gym that was home to Sabrina, and a Fighting gym at the top of town that gave you a Hitmonlee or Hitmonchan upon beating the leader.

I decided to hit up the Fighting gym first to do some leveling, as Sabrina is a very tough trainer to face due to Psychic types being so dominate in R/B/Y.

I managed to pretty easily handle the most of the trainers in the gym due to Muk being a Poison type (thus being resistant to Fighting moves), but upon realizing that Muk would be useless against Sabrina, I switched over to Magmar to just decimate everything with Fire Blast.

I got to the leader of the gym, saved my game, and was beginning to think that nothing substantially odd would happen. It was about 15 after 1, and I had been recording for a good 30-45 minutes or so at this point, so I was about to cut off my screen recorder. But, I decided to keep recording just for the hell of it, at least until I decided I didn't want to play anymore.

With the help of a lucky burn, I beat the gym leader pretty easily with Magmar's Fire Blast, and prepared to claim my prize of either Hitmonlee or Hitmonchan. But, something strange started happening that honestly scared the hell out of me.

After beating the leader and coming out of the battle screen, the music that would normally play wasn't there. What was there was a strange, second or so loop of the same note or two over and over. This went on for a few seconds before coming to a halt altogether so no music was playing whatsoever.

But that wasn't the scary part, it was what the beaten leader said. Instead of his usual shtick about letting me choose between Hitmonchan and Hitmonlee for beating him, he said, word for word, the dialogue bit from the creepy girl in Lavender Town; "Hahaha, I guess not. That white hand on your shoulder, it's not real."

A random Pokemon cry broke the silence, and the odd looped notes started up again as the dialogue disappeared from the text box completely. Although initially frightened, for a moment I thought the game had glitched and just randomly froze.

I was about to reset the rom when suddenly, the game white screened, and I appeared in a dark cave (I assumed it to be Rock Tunnel, above Lavender Town) with the most awful sounding music I have ever heard playing in the background.

This wasn't normal music from the game on loop or anything either (hell, I wouldn't even call this music as it had no real rhythm or timing), this was a loud static hum over top of of seemingly random notes of sound. I have never heard anything like this in ANY game, let alone Pokemon.

At this point I really wanted to turn the game off out of fear, but my curiosity got the best of me. Considering I couldn't see anything in this dark cave, I decided to go to my Clefable and use Flash. When I went to my list of Pokemon, however, I noticed something really strange.

The white Ditto's overworld sprite had changed from its usual substitute doll-esque sprite to the sprite of the old man laying down at the start of the game who will only get up if you give him coffee, or something along those lines.

I go to check the stats of the thing, and it's in-game sprite was non-existent, with the only thing there being a white background. Very strange. I quickly exited out and proceeded to go up to Clefable and use Flash; upon doing so however, the game again white screened, and I then was staring at Professor Oak's sprite from the start of the game. He wasn't moving, the text box wasn't coming up, and an ANOTHER bit of weird music was playing in the background this time.

At this point my palms were sweating from nervousness and fright. I started hammering the A button, and even though I heard the "ding" selection sound it makes when going through the menus, nothing changed on the screen. I hit every button on my NES USB controller and nothing changed still.

I was about to just shut down the emulator when I realized I could reset the game by simultaneously holding select, start, A and B. I quickly did this and luckily, the game reset... only not really. Before doing so, the text box popped up under Professor Oak and simply said "Hell" before taking me back to the opening startup screen.

At this point, I realized this was all too strange to be a random glitch... this was a message. And although the game had been reset, something was still off.

Yet another form of strange music began playing as I cruised through the opening credit screens and opening video sequences. The title screen wasn't displaying properly either, not cycling through the Pokemon as it normally would, all the while a strange music played in the background.

At this point, I reset the game through the emulator menu just to see if my game was going to be permanently like this. After resetting again though, the music and sounds began to play normally again.

I stared blankly at the title screen which was displaying properly now, still in awe at what had just taken place. I then quickly shut the game off and stopped the screen capture. I had to get out of the house after what had just taken place. This, above all things, was proof enough for me that this is all connected to the game.

I haven't played since I recorded this.

(This story is credited to BlameTruth on Youtube.)

Ichor

The Ichor Forest is considered one of the most dangerous forests known to explorers. This forest, which lines the upper half of a town called Perch Creek, has some of the most oddly-formed natural waterways ever discovered.

The Ichor Effect, which is divided into two parts, is the definition of what happens to those who enter the Ichor Forest OR the definition of a natural structure that has a similar appearance and growth to the Ichor Waterway.

Part 1: The Ichor Effect that defines what happens to explorers. The exact incident, which is detailed in the town's history, was the disappearance of several explorers in the forest who had inexplicably aged or seemed to have aged. This effect is the explanation of unexplainable aging and intense paranoia/dementia.

The extreme aging is not aging at all, but the appearance of aging due to extreme stress. The body is forced to produce massive amounts of new blood cells and hair grows because of hormones and effectively ages the body.

This is the only explanation science has come up with, but is still only a theory. No effective tests could be done when the original scientists were alive and, in 1957, all tests were halted. Needless to say, there is no proof either way that the Ichor Effect can actually happen, or if it is something else.

Part 2 The second part of the Ichor Effect can only be explained by explaining the natural formation of the Ichor Waterway. Ichor Forest is surrounding a central spring that seems to be a huge, monumental steel tower with no windows or doors that rests in the middle of a natural moat. The moat then wraps in a spiral shape around the forest and through it - in equal-sized rings - all the way to the forest border.

The trees are all pointed toward the tower, as well, unless it is summer, in which the trees seem to be completely pointed upwards. Every summer, the water appears to also dry up. It is unknown why this happens, but the tree theory says it is simply an optical illusion done by years of lore.

The effect states that the repetitive nature of the waterway and forest leads to massive paranoia of impossible situations, increased hostility and anger, extreme stress, and hallucinations.

This can lead most to suicide. However, those that live appear to have age inexplicably. This is not always the case; sometimes they view the real world as simply a fake image created by the forest.

This effect has been noted on all explorers of the forest while the trees were present. When they were burnt down the first time, the tower was found and people initially thought a creature called the Piche had lived in there.

Upon examination and seeing no doors or windows, they assumed it was a meaningless structure or some solid block created by Native Americans for worship and left it alone. However, a diary was found next to the building on the next burning down of the forest. The last entry was scribbled in with a dying pen and very frantically written.

"____I've found this building it's ______meters tall and at least two horses in length. It's cold to the touch minus the fact it is ____ degrees outside. (There is a bunch of missing text or text impossible to read due to the dying pen) During the night the tower seems warmer to the touch, like a body is pressed against it. Not only that but, I can hear ______ scratch__________ from the inside."

The diary had no more pages in it. It appeared to be used for years worth of data and movement through the forest with active time checks. The tower was forgotten years later, when the town settled to what it is today. In addition, the Ichor Forest is now off limits.

About ten years ago, the Ichor Forest was put off limits when two teenage boys entered it and never came back. After a year of active searching, most of the search parties disappeared and all further searching was called off.

The town assumed some wild animal or group of people living in there were killing all who enter, for food (because bodies could not be found).

Explanation of the town:

The town of Perch Creek is located on the outskirts of the Ichor Forest. It is 135,000 acres of rich land susceptible to all kind of farming opportunities. It is also one of the few places in America that has all four seasons to the most extreme, ranging from snow to boiling heat.

It is a pleasant vill if there ever was one. There are four houses repeated in four segments - quadrants named by their founder: Geerhall Quadrant, West Hulldran, The Gueniveer Quadrant, and the Idealistic Quadrant. Geerhall and Idealistic are the top left and right, respectively, and line the forest.

The bottom left and right are Hulldran and Gueniveer, respectively. In the center of the four quadrants is a massive man-made lake, used in summer as a swimming hole and winter as an ice skating rink. This is the main point of economy for the town from the population.

A population of 13,465 put this town to the very brink of exploding.

Perch Creek was founded in 1815 by Jorge Hulldran, who came over in a boat from Germany and wanted to start a new life. He founded the town in the midwest by buying it off the Native Americans and ran the town as a place for his family and friends he brought over. This was the first quadrant.

Soon, Jacylin Geerhall bought some land and started the second quadrant. This was the first expansion of many that would later make Perch Creek what it is today.

After a series of deaths in 1895, the US Government took major interest in the town. Ichor Forest seemed to have wolves in it, or possibly Native Americans that wanted to kill the German-borne town. The government inhabited it for the next ten years and didn't find a single thing. It was deemed there was no danger of living in close proximity to the forest, and it was left at that.

The following year, 115 deaths occurred during the winter. It was obvious that the Native Americans could not be involved, due to the degree of cold when it happened. Interest in what was inside the forest took up in the early summer.

Nothing was found in the entire forest, but something was killing people again in the following year. The forest was burned down in 1907 to kill whatever could have done it. At this point, Gueniveer and Idealist bought the two final quadrants.

In 1910, the forest entirely regrew. That winter, 333 deaths occurred in the town, as if something was angry. People began killing pigs every winter and leaving their blood in a bowl on their doorstep. Those who did this were left alive and those who didn't were found dead at the end of every winter. A pattern began to emerge.

Each winter, a blizzard would occur and people would disappear. After the winter was over, a terrible smell would occur in the forest, After following it, one could find every body that had gone missing that winter.

The bodies were laid in some sort of marriage service every year. It was always a newlywed couple, but not always their families. Marriages began to occur outside Perch Creek in fear of being murdered.

A name was given to the creature: the Piche. Pronounced "Pike," it was a mix between Ichor Forest and Perch Creek.

In 1915, pigs' blood stopped working. Now, ashes of the burnt bodies from the previous year were dropped into the pig's blood. The blood was hardened to build the doors of most houses.

Now, the houses seemed to be permanently safe. The same was done to the window frames and some was built into the walls and surrounding dirt to create a sort of forcefield.

In 1920, the blood stopped working again and the killing resumed in ferocity. A personal militia was created to enter the forest and kill the Piche. They were gone for three days. When only two of the fifteen emerged, they had aged a massive ten years and had eaten every ounce of food they had taken.

After this, a rule of thumb began: houses were built without windows and with steel doors that only opened from the inside. This way, the Piche could not see anyone to kill.

In 1923, a man named Oliver Brehl released a book of information on the Piche. Only a few of these books still remain. From what hasn't been smudged over time there are three basic things that can be read:

1. The Piche does not kill unless you witness it.
2. The Piche has red eyes.
3. The Piche only comes out in the cold, becoming more adventurous and ferocious as more snow appears.

In 1945, the town was abanoned when every house burned to the ground. Remains were found of books and records. All information on the town ever existing was kept. However, no information on the Piche was kept.

In modern days, the town has boomed. A massive, four story mall was built in the Gueniveer quadrant and the lake had been built, along with hunting shops and classes for Ichor Forest.

The town also has a massive formation of crystals in a mine in the Idealistic quadrant. Because of that, it has become a popular tourist attraction. The mine goes down at least ten miles. However, because of air and heat, no more attempts to see the end of the tunnel have been conceived.

(This story is credited to a person called Guiv.)

Cats

Robert was convinced that his cat was trying to kill him. After using the litter box, Mr. Cuddles kicks the litter around, leaving a big gaping hole in the middle of the box. Robert was positive that Mr. Cuddles was practicing body burial.

Robert also occassionally woke up on the sofa after his afternoon nap to find Mr. Cuddles kneading about on his body. This, Robert was certain, was not a display of affection, but a clever technique in which Mr. Cuddles very subtlely checked his internal organs for weaknesses. Cuddles seemed to have settled on the pancreas. Robert stopped having afternoon naps.

And so, Robert went through every day and every night in fear that his cat would come out of the darkness and suddenly disembowel him, for some of the cat medicinemen had mysterious powers, and could shapeshift into anything. Robert was also sure that there existed a secret ring of cat terrorists bent on overthrowing humankind via faked cuteness and disarming meows. He dubbed these vile scum as caterrorists. Robert was not good at names.

Robert would have killed Mr. Cuddles himself, if not in fear of the retribution that he would bring unto himself from the crazed cult of caterrorists, who would undoubtedly claw themselves into his house and lay giant rat traps everywhere, which, Robert speculated, they would use out of a love for cruel irony.

He tried to intimidate Mr. Cuddles by goading him into a staring competition, but he always lost. Mr. Cuddles never blinked. Those damned cat eyes, staring straight at him, straight down into his soul! They seemed to know everything about him. They seemed to be taunting him!

Robert took a lot of amphetamines. They not only allowed him to stay awake against the hallowed forces of evil, they also gave unto him knowledge about the cats and their plans. It was as if some higher being was giving him help. He was very, very grateful towards this higher being. He often asked how he could ever repay him. The conversation usually went something like this:

Robert: Oh great, magnificent God of all, however can I repay you?

Higher being: Mo' pills.

Robert: If you do insist, oh divine master.

And so Robert took quite a few pills, secure in the knowledge that if the cat ever enroached upon his personal safety, the higher being would smack it to death, probably with a large baseball bat.

However, one day, the Higher Being dissapeared. Dissipated. Gone! Robert was extremely uneasy. He assumed that the cats had kidnapped the Higher Being using some sort of advanced technology. Coincidentally, slightly before this, he also ran out of pills.

It was no good. Robert was addicted to the amphetamines. He went to his usual dealer, Jacob, down the street, below the great oak tree. Jacob, whilst handing over a bag, asked him what the problem was. "No problem," said Robert. "Well," Jacob said, "your eyes almost look like that of a cat's. And your moustache looks strange, almost as if it's turning into cat whiskers." Robert ran all the way back home.

Robert couldn't find a mirror. The only mirror he had was smashed by Mr. Cuddles a week ago. And even as Robert ran around the house, looking for a mirror, Mr. Cuddles followed him with what appeared to be a ghost of a smirk on his face.

Robert finally found a piece of jagged glass which had fallen off from the smashed mirror. "Yes," he thought as he stared hard at the glass, "those do look like cat eyes. And it looks as if I'm growing whiskers! I'm growing into a cat!"

Suddenly, in the glass flashed the image of Mr. Cuddles. Robert looked behind him and screamed. Mr. Cuddles was right behind him, staring at him, as if saying, "Hahah, you're one of us, you're one of us!"

Robert took the piece of jagged glass and slashed open his own throat.

-----------------------------------------

Mr. Cuddles walked along the street, and went underneath the great oak tree, where he waited for a bit, until a black cat came along.

They both nodded and meowed to each other, conversing for a while, until, seemingly agreeing on something, they parted ways.

Mr. Cuddles went down the street to find a new owner, while the black cat looked around for a while, then, having made sure the street was empty, he closed his eyes and concentrated, causing his features to start morphing.

His posture grew more upright, his fur disappeared, his eyes grew more angular, his nose became more defined, his whiskers shrank inwards. And slowly, his features began to resemble that of a particular drug dealer whose body was found in the gutter a week ago, a man named Jacob. He took a packet of amphetamines out of his pocket and grinned.

(This story is credited to a person called Necronophore.)

Forest Creature

After the suicide and death of several teens in a small rural town, a diary was found in one of the ransacked homes. The following is a word for word copy of what was written in the diary by Johan Nebra, the final person to die. It is prescribed that, if you have a week mind or stomach, you do not read what is coming up now.

January 1st-
Happy New Year.

January 2nd-
Today is awesome. I'm playing with my new xbox :) Plants vs. Zombies is the shit, just saying.

January 4th-
Forgot to write anything down yesterday, pvz is taking over my life LOL sucks though, because I have school pretty soon. Like, tomorrow, but I don't care, its time to play some more.

January 5th-
School was okay. Most people were just wearing new clothes and shit they got for Christmas. Saw some friends, made out with my girlfriend out back of the school. Her name is Andrea, if I ever have to mention her again.

January 5th-
Hey, another entry, yeah it's late but, I saw something out in the woods. It looked like a wolf or something. I think tomorrow I'm gonna have my buddies come over and we are gonna see what we can do.

January 6th-
Well it was me Steve, Gary and Eric. We all trekked across the property in my backyard (it's pretty big) and reached the lining to the forest. We saw the prints the animal made in the snow and it looked like hand prints. Slightly worried, we all turned back around and came back. Tonight, I stayed up to see if I saw it again. I did, this time it was just pacing left and right by the forest edge.

January 8th-
Today my girlfriend wasn't in school.

January 9th-
Steve was pissed all day, it looks like he hasn't slept in a few days. I remember him being pretty disturbed when we saw those prints. I think it's some sick joke.

January 10th-
There was a blanket of fresh snow on the ground today, a heavy one too, maybe an inch? School was cancelled. I tried to call Andrea from my house phone but the lines are all fucked up on land lines but cell phones work. Andrea doesn't have a cell phone, so it will be some time before I see her again. I hope she is okay.

January 11th-
Didn't sleep at all last night. It's been maybe two days since I've been tired at all.

January 12th-
Steve came over today, extremely furious. He dropped by the house to punch me in the face and almost break my nose. I don't know what the hell is up with that guy, but we are not friends anymore, I don't care.

January 13th-
A video was dropped in my mailbox this morning. I also went to school and Andrea was back, she was a bit on edge but it's her time of the month so I didn't worry about it. I will report back on the video when I watch it.

January 13th-
Okay, what the fuck. The video was the most disturbing thing I've ever seen. It was Steve, standing in the forest, naked, for a half hour. Before finally he lifted his hands and grabbed a pair of pliers. He snipped two frostbitten fingers off and walked to the camera and turned it off. The last frame, he shows where he is and I swear to God I saw that thing in the back.

January14th-
Andrea was extremely angry today, all day. And Steve was back in school, missing two fingers. I approached him, not even thinking about the video, and he just ran. A couple people I was talking to were telling me that he has been really paranoid.

January 15th-
Okay, I definitely fucking saw it tonight. It was sitting staring off into the distance by the edge of the woods. It was looking the opposite way of my house so I took a picture.

January 15th-
Don't you know, the picture came out foggy and I couldn't make out a goddamn thing.

January 16th-
Steve disappeared again.

January 17th-
Andrea was a total bitch today, she also was convinced I'm cheating on her. Paranoid much?

January 20th-
Andrea left me. 2 years, because she thinks I'm cheating on her. For no reason. She didn't have a reason, she just said I was acting fishy. Even her friends said that I wasn't though and not to worry.

January 21st-
Andrea killed herself. I saw it on the news earlier. She hung herself and wrote a pretty disturbing suicide note and left a picture. The picture was apparently enough to drop a dude into a mental hospital. The note made a few hardened officers quit the force too. I don't know what it said, but its freaky.

January 25th-
Sorry for inconsistency on my updates, but today Steve killed himself. In Chemistry, he swallowed a whole vial if Hydrochloric Acid, downed the thing like a fucking shot.

January 26th-
A huge blizzard crept in. I'm locked into my house and the blizzard cut power to our heater and, well, everything for an undetermined amount of time. Awesome.

January 30th-
Tonight - I will sit up and wait for that thing. I can't get it out of my mind.

January 31st-
Tonight - That thing saw me back.

February 1st-
I'm freaking out. That thing saw me last night, and all we did was stare at each other. We stared straight at each other for about an hour before it left into the forest. Needless to say, I didn't sleep. Today in school sucked, basically all we did was fucking nothing. Two movies and gym, otherwise notes and no talking. The thought of Steve made me wonder why we were in school at all.

February 1st-
Oh right, there was no chemistry now, damn well better not be.

February 2nd-
It hasn't appeared in a while. Nothing is there, like now that it has been noticed, it doesn't want to be seen again, or it has ran. Like a deer in the headlights.

February 3rd-
Nothing again.

February 4th-
There isn't anything out there, not a damn thing. But it is flurrying again. It looks like there is no end to the snow, basically just keeps piling on. It sucks.

February 5th-
Heat came back on, thank god. I lost my right pinky though, completely frozen off. We would go to the doctor but the snow picked up and both the school and the doctor's office are closed.

February 6th-
Nothing out there again. I'm feeling pretty good about it. First time I've seen the sun for about 7 days. It's crazy.

February 7th-
Snow on the roads have been plowed, I took today off school to go into the doctor's office to get my finger removed in surgery. When we got there the doctor looked awfully strange, like he felt uncomfortable working with me, but he cut my finger off for me and wrapped it in a little box. The box is on my top shelf.

February 8th-
Eric came over today. We talked for a while about Steve and what we liked about him, and I asked him when the funeral was being held. Eric looked worried then told me that a break in during the snow caused Steve's body, or what was left of it, had been stolen. I felt sick to my stomach.

February 9th-
Hot water has shut off, I refuse to shower in this cold.

February 10th-
The water heater isn't broken, we have the heater guy out here right now. Nothing, not a damn thing is wrong with the pipes, we just have no hot water.

February 11th-
It's back.

February 12th-
It is sitting there staring at me. I'm looking at it while I write this (I exchange my glances don't get your panties in a twist). I can't tell if it respects me or hates me.

February 13th-
School has been cancelled until further notice because of Steve's death. That's good.

February 14th-
The police are here. There are cars everywhere and we were questioned for about 5 hours. I never saw it myself, but I think I know what happened. From what I heard from the police and from my hysterical mother and father, was that Steve's body was left mangled in front of our door. What the fuck?

February 15th-
I'm so pissed off. All the time, I can't even explain it. I flipped out on Eric today, and he told me I was acting weird. Fuck him.

February 16th-
I punched Eric in the face. Hard. I think I broke his nose. I don't feel bad. He had it coming. I was having a bad day, and he came over to me and annoyed me. He was like "Hey, what's up? You know you are looking bad." WHY WOULD HE SAY THAT!?

February 17th-
If that thing is there tomorrow, like it is tonight, I'm going outside and I'm going to fuck it up. I don't care.

February 18th-
I think Eric wants to get me jumped. He was talking to this guy I've never seen him talk to before. I was worried what was going on because he kept looking at me and he pointed. The other dude looked pissed off. I'm gonna end this tomorrow.

February 18th-
Its about midnight, it wasn't there tonight. Better not be. I hate him. I hate it's glare. It's looking through me.

February 19th-
I broke Eric's right arm today. Let's see that faggot punch me.

February 20th-
It's back. Staring. But, I think it's closer now. Like, it's closer to me. Or the house, but it feels like me.

February 21st-
I'm not cold anymore. Not at all. In fact, I frequently sit outside in a tee shirt now. It's nice. I've lost another finger, but hey, I'm not complaining.

February 23rd-
4th finger down, 6 to go. I don't really mind it too much. I don't care much at all to be honest. I think it's funny that my parents are flipping out. By the way, my parents, I think they want to move me to a different school or something, they keep dropping hints about me not going. Or about other strange things.

February 24th-
I received a letter from Eric. My mom had to open it for me so I could read it because of how many fingers have fallen off. I've lost all my toes now as well, incase you were wondering. The letter said I'm starting to act like Andrea and Steve, and recently Gary. He said I'm unrealistically paranoid and angry. Fuck him, what does he know? I threw the letter out needless to say.

February 26th-
Sorry I missed a day, I was disturbed all day yesterday. I got a letter in my mailbox that was 2 pages. The first page was a bloody hand print and that was all. The second page said "Solar Eclipse".

February 26th-
I think the letter was from that thing. Because I saw it tonight, it was close. Very close. Fuck.

February 27th-
In four minutes, there will be a solar eclipse. I've never seen that thing outside during the day, I wonder if that is why it mentioned it?

February 27th-
One minute, I can see it's eyes inside the forest. It is waiting. Fuck.

February 27th-
I love Andrea. By my count I have 10 seconds until the sun disappears, and each inch of shadow, that thing is drawing closer.

This was the last of the diary that was found. The house was ransacked beyond belief and snow was trodden all through it. The parents seemed to be deceased, however not in quite the way Johan was.

The parents were holding each other, and frozen into ice sculptures (false frozen completely until the blood and skin turns almost to ice, or becomes ice like). They had no emotion, as if it happened instantly.

Johan, he was disemboweled and dragged from his room. You could see his organs strewn across the room and bloody drag marks down the stairs. Whatever was pulling him had only hand prints that it left.

Whatever "it" was, is no longer being looked at by the police and is assumed to be some sort of hoax that eventually led to his unfortunate death.

Reasons:

1. Impossible report of the shape and size of the creature
2. Impossible body proportions and limbs
3. Creature was supposed to have four legs, however drag marks and prints leading out the door indicated four legs being used and a straight drag mark. Police believe it is a man with a dog, because the drag marks had to be made by something with two arms to hold it.

All other information is privatized and the forest has been sealed off limits until further notice.

(This story is credited to a person called Guiv.)

Nanashi no Game

Click this.

Basically, if you haven't heard, Nanashi no Game is a scary DS game. The scariest out there (compared to all other DS games), from what I hear. But it's always been in moonspeak and nobody in English land has been able to enjoy the game. Now it's translated. WOOOOOOOOO!

Go play it and not sleep. DOOOOO ITTTTTTT.

If you don't have a flash card to play this on (this is the generally better way of playing fan-translated games), get the emulator DeSmuME, since the game requires a 90 degree flip of the DS to play half the game.

According to that thread, you'll be needing headphones too. Good luck with that, then.

Yes, I know this is pretty useless post, but I had to tell you guys here since I know a lot of you don't check Twitter.

John

"Am I going to die in here, Herbert?"

"Yes, John. You're going to die in here."

"Why, though?"

"Go back to sleep, John."

The loudspeaker made the usual crackling noise before the room fell into a deathly silence. John shivered under the thin blankets provided for him. He was dying. It had been ninety days since he had eaten regular food, six since he was given a pill, and 116 since he last saw a human being. The world felt lonely.

John tried to force his body to sleep, but the hunger won out. He rose from the bed and paced around the tiny twelve-foot cube. He reached one side of the room, checked the tiny drop box, found nothing, and turned around.

When he reached the other side, he would pause and look outside the window, where he could observe the wall of dirt seemingly inches away. It wasn't spectacular by any means, but John found when you got desperate enough, you could see anything you wanted.

Lush, tropical rain forests, busy, vibrant street corners...even your own house. In the end, though, it was just dirt. He might as well be dead already.

Squeaking noises filled the tiny cube as John paced back and forth for what must have been an hour. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he started to feel tired again and his stomach no longer hurt. It just felt like a void, like something was missing inside of him.

He returned to his small bed, where he tossed and turned until falling into an uneasy sleep. There was no such thing as a good sleep here.

Every now and then, John would hear noises. There was a little rattle here, maybe the clanking of metal there, but in the first few weeks, these noises would keep John awake at night in terror. Now, they offered the only sign of life other than the voice from the loudspeaker.

The voice, called Herbert, was there from the beginning. Herbert brought John into this new world and Herbert would be the one to usher him out. Ever since John awoke that first day, dry heaving in a cold sweat, he felt a pull to the voice over the intercom.

"Hello, John. Try not to overexert yourself. We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself so soon."

Though the words were cold, John had an almost child-like attachment to them...or at least whoever was speaking them. At the time, it might have been because he thought it was what was going to lead him to freedom.

Now, it was because it was the only thing he had to remind him he wasn't dreaming. This wasn't Hell. This was real and he was alive for every minute of it.

"How was your sleep, John?"

"Good."

"Good? Care to elaborate?"

"No."

"Very monosyllabic today, aren't we?"

"Shut up."

John was upset. He hadn't received his little pill in the drop box. He always found one in the metallic compartment after he slept. It was routine and, now that the routine had been broken, panic had been washing over John all morning.

"What is it, John?"

"I said shut up."

"Is it your ration, John?"

"Where is it?"

"I asked, is it your ration, John?"

"Yes. Where the fuck is it?"

John was on the edge of breaking down. His whole existence was based around this simple routine: sleep, eat, pace, sleep, eat pace, sleep. Now, it was gone, leaving John with nothing.

"Oh, calm down. I'm sure it'll turn up somewhere."

"I'm going to die."

"We're all going to die some day, John."

John tapped on the glass window, nervously. He was anxious. If he didn't get the pill, he would starve for sure. It was the only thing keeping him alive. Thoughts ran through his head, contemplating whey they decided they wanted him dead today. Why they put so much time into this and then decided to starve him.

"Why kill me like this?"

"Kill you, John? I assure you, no one is trying to kill you."

"Then where is the pill?"

A sigh came through the loudspeaker. "You're simply unreasonable right now. I think you need some time to calm down and collect your thoughts."

"Herbert, I swear to god I-"

The loudspeaker crackled and the room was silent once more. John was almost glad Herbert had left so abruptly. He had no idea what he was going to swear to god for; he had nothing to bargain with.

Threats to Herbert only made him laugh, as he found out within the first days. When he talked about suicide, Herbert would only say, "I would rather not deal with a mess today, John."

It was useless. Even if John wanted to kill himself, he had no means to do it. He thought about breaking the window once and trying to use a piece of glass to slit his throat, but Herbert informed him it was made of shatter-proof glass. He was, essentially, death proof.

Hours passed as John checked the drop box for what must have been every other minute, hoping and praying for the little pill to come so he could survive another day, maybe two.

He would have to take breaks every so often. His small chicken legs weren't able to carry the weight of his bone frame. There wasn't much muscle and certainly not any fat left on him. When he did have the energy to walk, his legs wobbled uneasily, like a toddler taking his first steps.

He couldn't remember if he had always been like this or if it was a symptom of the starvation. Regardless, it was a sign of death.

Hungry and mentall exhausted from getting his hopes up with the drop box so much, John went to bed, defeated and scared. For the first time in a while, he was scared of death.

Herbert and John talked about death quite frequently - John's death, in fact. It had always been calm and almost soothing to know he would finally be somewhere else, somewhere outside these walls, but tonight, it was terrifying.

The real feeling of death was slowly creeping up on him. What would it feel like? Where would he go? Would he still be hungry? All these thoughts worked him up until he was sobbing into the small pillow on his bed.

"John?" the intercom crackled.

John sniffled and spat blobs of snot onto the bed, tears dripping down his face.

"John, I know you're not dead. Talk to me, please. I'm sorry about earlier."

John shuffled in bed, not sure what to make of the apology. Apology was a sign of error or weakness; something Herbert had never shown.

"Come on now, John. Don't treat me like this. Am I not good to you?"

"What do you want?" John asked in a shrill voice.

"There's the John I know. Listen, I have a surprise for you."

The voice sounded cheery as it came out of the device on the wall. John looked around the room, scared. He didn't know what this meant. Was the room going to explode into a fiery inferno? Would poisonous gas be released in his room, ending his life? Would he be forced to crawl into a tiny box until he was squeezed into hundreds of tiny pieces? John shuddered and curled into a ball.

"Now, now, John. Don't be shy," chuckled Herbert. "Check your mail box."

John's eyes shifted to the side of the room with the drop box. It looked unchanged. He hadn't heard or seen any movement in the room. Nothing could be in thre.

"Are you always so precautious when receiving gifts?"

John crawled out of bed and hobbled over to the box. He grasped the small handle and pulled it open slow, revealing the small round stick at the bottom. He reached in, half expecting it to bite him, but it didn't.

It remained the small, round stick it had always been. He lifted it into the bright, white room and realization flooded over him. He knew what this was. He had seen a lot of these before. It was a screwdriver.

"Ah, nothing like a good set of tools is there, John?"

"Am I supposed to stab myself?"

"Dear god, boy, don't be absurd!"

John studied the tool. It was small and about as round as a hot dog. The handle was red and shiny, nothing like anything he'd seen in a long time. Above the handle was the flat, metallic top. It was a standard screwdriver.

"Well, John?"

"Well, what?"

"Do I get a 'thank you'?"

"No."

"Well I never." Herbert muttered this as the intercom went silent.

John wasn't alone anymore, though. Something felt different. Why would they give him a screwdriver? John was tempted to put it back in the box - it couldn't bring anything but bad - but he couldn't.

He felt connected to it. They were too foreign objects in a place they had no business being and he couldn't abandon it. He knew he would never be alone again. John curled up in bed with his new friend and went to sleep - suspicious, but thankful. It was the best sleep he had since he got there.

John woke up feeling much more refreshed than usual. The deep feeling of emptiness was still present, but it wasn't as prominent as before. John got out of bed, firmly grasping the screwdriver, and walked over to the drop box. He opened it and, to his surprise, he found two pills.

Overjoyed, John quickly grabbed one and wolfed it down in a matter of seconds. Though it had the consistency of chalk, his senses went wild. His stomach felt full again. He was content.

He picked up the second pill and was about to casually pop it in his mouth just as the intercom cracked and Herber's perky voice cried through.

"Morning, John! How was breakfast?"

"Good. Why's there two?"

"Breakfasts? No, no silly. It goes breakfast, then lunch, then dinner."

"Shut up. Why are there two pills?"

"Oh, that! I'm glad you noticed, to be honest. Sometimes, the little things are the most important."

John fidgeted. It was unusual for Herbert t be so casual, but this was two days in a row. Something was going on and it troubled him.

"Why?"

"Well, you made such a fuss about yesterday's pill not being there, we thought we'd give you two!"

"Why?" John asked again, this time a little louder. Now that his stomach was full, he was a little more confident.

"It's only fair, John! We missed a day, so today we had to give you two to make up for it. It's simple, really."

John didn't want to believe him, but everything in his head told him he wasn't lying. He couldn't argue. There wasn't anything to argue. It was simple, like Herbert said; he was just repaying what was owed. It was the right thing to do.

"Thank you."

"Oh, you're very welcome, John. Very, very welcome."

Herbert said this in a flat tone. He was more his regular self, no longer the cheery giver he was a minute ago. John put the extra pill in his pocket. He would save it for an emergency, just in case.

John then took his screwdriver and returned to bed. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, thinking about what would become of him. Would he stay here forever? Had he aged at all? He couldn't remember anything of before he came here. He didn't even know his own name until that first, "Hello, John."

For all he knew, he never had a name. He was just a blip in society who slipped through the cracks. He believed this because he hated the alternative: he had a life, a family and friends.

There were people who have been missing him. They probably would have had a funeral for him by now. No one would still be looking for him. This depressed John greatly, so he went back to thinking he was a nobody.

John lied there some more until he had an idea. He would start his own history and he would record it in his room. He grabbed his screwdriver and pressed it to the bright white walls. He wasn't sure what they were made of, but he prayed they would scratch.

He pushed down with pressure and a horrible screeching noise echoed throughout the room, but there was a small mark where the screwdriver had slid. John could write. He chisled away for a few minutes until he had something he was proud of, right in the center of the wall he had written. "My name is John Nobody."

It wasn't much, but was a start. He wasn't sure to what, but it was definitely a start and John was proud of it. He wished he had someone who could admire it with him, which made him think of Herbert.

He loved Herbert more than he ever had. Herbert had given him the screwdriver and, in essence, his sanity. John, for the first time in weeks, was thinking clearly and rationally. There was more to life than just survival. There was thought, feelings, curiosities. It was wonderful. John wanted to thank Herbert more than anything else.

"Herbert?"

Cracking. "Yes John?"

"Can I see you?"

"No, John."

"Why?"

"It's against the rules, John. Go to sleep."

John shuffled uneasily in his bed. He wanted to press further, but he didn't want to annoy Herbert. He tried closing his yes, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Herbert?"

"Yes John?"

"Thank you."

There was an unsettling silence. Something was wrong. Someone must have found Herbert and slit his throat. He was more than likely lying in a pool of his own blood and now John was truly and utterly alone. He would starve without the watchful eyes of Herbert observing and commenting on his daily life. John was something now.

"You're welcome. Go to sleep."

John sighed and sank into the mattress. He could sleep easy knowing Herbert, like a mother caring for her child, was always watching and protecting. John quickly fell asleep, content and full of life. He had everything he would ever need: food, company, even rudimentary entertainment. He was a complete man.

John awoke the next morning and set out to work with his new friend after retrieving and consuming the fresh pill. Through the incessant wailing, scratched marking began making words, which then became a full sentence.

"Days I haven't been dead."

This was written off in the corner. There was ample room left just below this, leaving sapce beside one lone scratch. John decided he might as well have a basic understanding of time. He knew he stayed up roughly the same amount of time every day, so that means he should sleep roughly the same amount of time.

Using that logic, he could make a new tick every time he woke up. He used to count the days in the beginning, by when the pill came, but after a while it seemed pointless. There was no point in knowing how long it took him to die, just that he was going to and it was unavoidable.

John felt different now. He had a small amount of joy in his life and he took pride in his new writings. He had a new appreciation for being alive.

After admiring his work thoughtfully for some time, John gently placed his friend on the bed. He then slowly knelt down to the floor, his legs still a little shaky, and stretched out flat. He started by trying to lift himself up a little bit.

He didn't think his arms would support him but, to his surprise, he managed to do a full push up. Confident, he tried again. However, he only managed half of one before his arms buckled and he smashed his face against the metal floor. A little dazed, he pulled himself back up into the bed. He grabbed his friend and curled in close.

He spent the rest of the day dreaming of the things he could now do. He thought about how he had the means to kill himself now, but quickly perished the thought. There was no way he could kill himself now that he wasn't alone. He couldn't just leave like that.

He decided he would live for as long as possible and continue to write, even if it was only a sentence at a time. He was determined to have something unchangeable and permanent in his life. In the writings, he had that.

Crying. John woke up to the sound of crying. He had no idea what time it was. He thought he might be driming, but the crying continued for several minutes. It was high pitched, yet sounded low and guttural, almost as if the person was being smothered.

Scared, he grabbed his screwdriver. No one was going to hurt his friend. He pressed himself up against the corner of the wall, grasping the weapon in one hand and the other firmly clenched into a fist.

He stayed like this for what seemed like hours until, finally, the crying died out. John was shocked. It was the first thing he had heard that sounded even vaguely human for god knows how long, besides Herbert, of course.

"Oh, John. What are you doing up at such an ungodly hour?"

John jumped at the sudden sound being emitted from the speaker. He eased up once he realized the familiar, calm voice belonged to Herbert.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Excuse me?"

"What was the crying?"

"Crying? I think you're a little tired, John."

"Herbert, please. I-"

The loudspeaker crackled and fizzled out. John was left confused and scared without any sort of explanation. Maybe herbert was right. Maybe John just dreamed the noise. However, he was certain he was awake.

Then he thought it might be Herbert playing a trick on him. John decided this was the most logical answer and the best course of action was to ignore it. There was no point in giving Herbert the satisfaction of seeing John panic over a stupid noise. From now on, John would be unshakeable.

After sleeping for what seemed like only minutes, John got out of the small bed and walked over to the drop box. As expected, a small pill was there, awaiting consumption. John complied to the nonexistent request and ate the pill quickly.

He returned to the bed, where he picked up his friend carefully and went to work on adding another tick. After suffering through the terrible noise, John hopped off the bed and onto the floor.

He felt good and full of energy, so he decided he might as well work out. If he was going to die, he might as well look good. So he did pushups for quite some time, until he got tired and returned to his bed.

He would lie there and twiddle the screwdriver between his thumbs, thinking of new things to write. He could never decide on anything he really had the desire to put down, but it got him thinking. It kept him sane.

More crying in the night. This time it seemed louder, more focused. It was almost like it was calling to John. Determined not to satisfy Herbert in his sick game, John remained still and acted as if he heard nothing.

He just listened to the noise while maintaining his regular sleeping position. He did this until the crying finally died down and John was proud of his accomlishment. Content, he fell back asleep.

Waiting for the Scream

What do you think of when you imagine being cursed? The random elements of life conspiring against you? A horrible disease no one can treat? Everything you touch dying? The curse I've been burdened with may sound like nothing compared to those, but it destroyed my life just as thoroughly.

I had a normal life before this started - decent job, recently married, a nice house. It was a normal night. I was just looking around online when, out of nowhere, I heard a loud, deep, furious scream.

I had never heard anything so loud in my life. Needless to say, it scared the hell out of me. I screamed, myself, and nearly fell out of my chair. My wife was in a nearby room and came running. My heart pounding, I asked her what that scream was. She said it was me; she hadn't heard anything else.

She insisted she hadn't heard the scream I had. She said I must have been hit by a screamer online. I insisted that even if our computer could make a noise that loud, she would have heard it from anywhere in the house. After some arguing, though, I dropped it. Maybe I had only imagined it being so loud.

The next day, I was clearing the table after dinner. I was carrying a very sharp carving knife to the sink when it happened again. That same unbearably loud, furious scream. I was almost knocked off my feet. My hands violently twitched and I gave myself a deep cut on my other hand with the knife.

My wife was in the room; she was scared after seeing me nearly fall and cut myself. However, that wasn't what upset me. Once again, she said she hadn't heard anything. I was becoming terrified at this point. I made a doctor's appointment; it was scheduled a week later, but I would end up in a hospital before that.

Two days later, I was driving home after work. After going a whole day without hearing the scream, I was starting to feel better. I wasn't even sure I would need to see a doctor. I was a few blocks from home when it happened. I heard the scream again and the consequences were much worse.

As with the other times, I lost control of my body for a brief moment. However, that's a dangerous amount of time when you're driving. My spasm from the scream caused me to violently turn the steering wheel to the left, crashing into a streetlight.

I broke my hand and the car was trashed. I went to a hospital, but nothing physically wrong with my head was found. The scream started coming at random times, every day or two. Everyone thought it was post-traumatic stress from the crash.

It wasn't. I heard the screams. I know I did. I was a nervous wreck after the accident, but not because of what happened to my hand or the car. It was because of the scream. I lived in constant fear of it, afraid to to anything where losing my control could injure myself or others.

That wasn't the worst part, though. The anticipation of the scream was unbearable. No matter how many times I heard it, it scared me to death. Nothing my wife or psychologist said helped. Eventually, I started lashing out at people, angry that they wouldn't believe the screams I heard were real.

After one particularly bad fight, my wife left. She was crying; she said she still loved me and knew I wasn't being cruel on purpose, but she couldn't live with me anymore. I hadn't been able to work since the accident and, even with the extra sick time they had given me, I would soon run out.

The screams had ruined my life and I was willing to do anything to make them stop. I picked up a knife, the same knife I had cut myself with when I heard the second scream, and cut off both my ears.

The doctors didn't agree with my decision and I didn't expect them to. All that mattered to me was that I had done a thorough enough job to ensure they couldn't restore my hearing. I was held against my will in the hospital, restrained and monitored at all times, but I didn't care.

With the screaming gone, I was sure I could convince them I was sane in time. I felt better than I had since I heard the first scream, until the night after I removed my ears.

It didn't stop. I heard it. I hadn't heard a thing since what I had done to myself, but I heard the screaming every bit as loud as it had been before. I completely lost control at that point. I'll probably be put in a mental hospital, monitored and restrained to keep me from hurting myself, for the rest of my life.

I don't care about that, though. That's not the reason I say the screams ruined my life. It's the anticipation, the knowledge that no matter what happens, they will keep coming for the rest of my life. I never know exactly when, either. All I can do is wait.

(This story is credited to a person called KI Simpson.)