Interesting Youtube Channel

Hey guys, another non-story post.

There's this channel on Youtube called theLittleFears, where some chick reads out a creepypasta... Go check it out. Some of the stories are really interesting and original, and then some are the normal stories we've heard thousands of times.

Of the ones I don't have on this blog, I'll put them to text and whatever, so... Yeah. If I find any more channels like this, I'll alert you guys.

John Wanted Her

She was radiant, almost garish as she leaned her head back against the wall, her sweat-glistened face shining yellow in the sickly lamplight. Strands of her dark hair clung to her lips, sticky in the heat.

John wanted her.

he wondered what she tasted like.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, softly. She moaned and tilted her face up to meet his, her hand ghosting around to spread against his lower back, her nails digging into him gently.

John wanted her.

She tasted like strawberry lip-gloss.

He deepened their kiss, pressing her hard against the wall. She grunted quietly, surprised, and put her other hand on his chest, wordlessly telling him to back off a little. That's enough, she was saying silently. That's enough.

John wanted her.

She waited sweet.

He pressed her harder, so hard that it hurt his lips. He parted them. He felt her lips against his teeth and opened his mouth wider as her face tightened in sudden fear. Her left hand clenched against his back, her other one pushed harder against his chest. Let go, she was saying silently. Let me go.

John wanted her.

She tasted like Mother.

The tang of blood hit his tongue as he bit town, the tiny veins in her lower lip bursting against his teeth. She shrieked, but the noise was muffled against his mouth and sounded like the mewling of a hungry cat. John was hungry, too. Clean your plate, Mother always said. Clean your plate, you little fuck. Clean your fucking plate or I swear to god I'll lock you out with the dogs again and let you starve. You're an ungrateful piece of shit, Johnny. You fucking piece of shit.

John wanted her.

She tasted like steak and god was he so hungry.

He bit through the meat between his teeth and tore it from her face with a quick jerk of his head. He swallowed it without even bothering to chew. God, Johnny, chew your fucking food. Yes, mother. He took another bite, gnawing on the corner of her mouth, trying to get a piece of her upper lip to savor her strawberry lip-gloss. He could feel the naked bottom row of her teeth pressing against his chin, bloody and bare except for the pulpy, ragged strings of meat that he'd left behind. She was screaming now, the way Mother had screamed, the blood gurgling in from behind her soft palate. Such an irritating sound.

He reached up and took her jaw in his hand, prying it open even as she tried to bite his fingers like a frightened animal. The terror in her eyes was so familiar and beautiful and it made his stomach growl. He pulled her jaw down until it popped and loosened, breaking her mouth all the way open like cracked oyster, exposing the juicy, writhing flesh of her tongue.

John wanted her.

She tasted so, so good.

And then he had her tongue, gripping it tightly between his teeth, sucking on it and tearing at it until a mouthful ripped free. She wasn't screaming anymore, just gurgling, the redness bubbling in her slender throat. She'd stopped pushing him away. She was limp and complacent, eyelids fluttering.

He ate his fill, cradling her in one arm, the way he had cradled Mother on the night he made her be quiet. When he was satisfied, he let her go and she hit the floor like a bag of wet sand, her destroyed mouth hanging open at an odd angle, blood smeared around her face. Wipe your mouth, you slob. You filthy, cocksucking pig. How could I have raised such a dirty, disgusting  boy?

John's lip twitched in revulsion, looking down at the mess she had made of herself. Dirty, disgusting girl. He turned away from her.

John was full for the first time in a long time.

And now John doesn't want her anymore.

The Grinning Man

I have a story to tell you, but I beg you not to read it. Please, don't. I know it sound stupid, but by the time you understand why, it will be too late. I know this will not deter many of you, but without this simple warning to ease my conscience, I may not be able to go through with this. And I desperately need to go through with this. Let me start at the beginning.

I have an old friend, Joe, who I've known since grade school. I'm in my late twenties - so is he - and he's been my friend for at least half of that time. I'd say that we knew each other pretty well after all of that time. This may seem irrelevant and uninteresting, but I have to stress this; I know him, and I know him well. What he did was...it was nothing he ever could have done without some outside influence.

On the night of Friday, January 23, I was driving to his apartment to pick him and his roommate up; we made plans to go out, hit a couple of bars, and generally have a good start to the weekend. when I arrived, there was a number of police cars and ambulances outside the complex. I was, of course, curious, as I, like many people, rarely see such sights. As I got closer, I noticed a body covered in a bag in the street, surrounded by glass and no more than a few feet from a badly dented car.

I'm rather horrified, coming to the conclusion that someone was hit by a car and killed right outside the complex. As I finished gawking, I made my way inside and up the stairs to the third floor. That's where my friend's apartment is, and that's where I found it wasn't a simple accident.

The police were upstairs as well, talking to residents and taping off one of the apartments. My friend's apartment. Panicked, I asked one of the officers what happened, why my friend's apartment was taped off. I told him I was supposed to be meeting them for drinks, and asked if they were okay. The officer told me that it appeared that Joe had butchered his roommate with a kitchen knife and thrown himself through the plate glass sliding door into the street below.

I was a ghost, shaken so badly I could barely answer the simple questions the officer asked me upon finding that I knew the victims. My mind couldn't process it. I knew him. He'd never do such an atrocity. It didn't make sense.

I made my way back to my car in silence and drove home as though on autopilot. I couldn't get the shock of it all out of my head. My wife asked me what happened and I explained it to her. She was shocked, as well, but...she didn't know him like I did. I told her I needed a bit of time and went to my room. She let me be. Lost,I found myself at my computer. I'm not really sure why I did it, but I found myself checking his email.

I know the passwords he commonly sued, so it was hardly an issue to find the right one. I thought perhaps he had friends online who I needed to tell, or maybe I thought I'd find a window into what caused this. I really don't know. If I knew then what I know now, I would've never done what I did.

I scrolled through his inbox, looking for familiar names. Joe, myself, and several friends kept in touch online, and I instantly recognized several of those names in the last few days. The most recent opened email was what looked like a spam email with an attachment and no other information. Curiosity got the better of me and I opened it. The file itself was a picture, named nothing but a seemingly random string of numbers. It was simply a man, seemingly normal at a glance, but the longer I stared at it, the more disturbed I became.

He stood, staring, with a grin, sinister and unsettling, with eyes that were both vacant and focused at the same time. That terrible grin seemed to widen the longer I stared, and for minutes I was fixated at that horrible face, eyes burning as they stared back at me with equal intensity. Finally, I tore my gaze away to find the only other thing in the email: a single word. A word I can't repeat. Not yet. I need to tell my story.

I couldn't take the sight of it anymore. I had to close it. The face was still looking at me; I swear I could still feel his grinning stare. As I went to log out of his email and put that horrid thing out of my mind, I noticed the time it arrived: January 23, 5:35pm. We were supposed to meet at six. He likely saw this less than a half hour before he died.

For the next several days, I tried to get it out of my mind. I attended my friend's funeral. I tried to go on with my life, but I kept feeling uneasy. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt like someone was watching me. At night, I started to have unsettling nightmares. I couldn't remember much of them when I awoke, but they all had the same elements: that horrible grinning man, blood, violence, and death. I couldn't get a good night's sleep. I was struggling at work. I kept feeling tense and on edge. I needed to know what was going on.

It was hard to really know what to look for at first; all I had to go on was that image and the single word that accompanied it. "Grinning man" is hardly a descriptive search and "haunted grinning man" or "cursed grinning man" wasn't really any better. Still, I did what I could with my limited resources.

I actually found a reference to it, or what I thought was it, on a website dedicated to conspiracies and paranormal things and other things I'd normally dismiss as utter bullshit. Still, this wasn't natural, and I was willing to try to open my mind to any explanation, since this seemed to defy anything conventional.

What I uncovered about this "grinning man" was that it was an image that seemed to circulate among image boards and forums a few years back. The article said the picture was harmless, if not a bit creepy (though I strongly disagree on the term "a bit"), but it seemed that something about it, when coupled with a key word that was unknown, could trigger extreme psychotic bouts, irritability, nightmares, and hallucinations.

It seemed so utterly stupid - simple text and pixels causing such harm - and yet I was sitting there, realizing that I was experiencing those same nightmares, irritability, and hallucinations. Joe obviously experienced the psychosis, evidenced by his sudden murder-suicide.

I was stunned; I thought it had to be a joke, some kind of bizarre hoax, but I knew there was more two it than that. I knew what I was feeling and I knew my friend. That picture and that word...it had to be the keyword. What triggers everything. Oh, God, was this going to happen to me, too? Was I going to kill my wife and then myself?

I started to panic, but my rational mind won over. If it was just paranoia and hallucinations...those couldn't hurt me, right? They only had power if I gave them power. I decided that I would end this, put it out of my mind, rationalize it away each time I felt it. That would be the end of it all.

As much as my rational brain helped me through the day, it couldn't protect me at night. My dreams continued to degrade, ending in me waking in the middle of the night, cold sweats and heart pointing. I started taking sleeping pills, though I refused to tell my wife - I didn't want her to worry, after all, though I knew she could tell something was wrong with me. The pills did nothing, though; in fact, they seemed to make my dreams more vivid. I could remember everything when I awoke. Every horrible, bloody detail. That grinning, inhuman face. I found I started sleepwalking. The first night I woke curled in the bathtub. Then in the kitchen. Three days later, with a knife in my hand and the bloodied remains of our black Lab at my feet.

I can't even remember the next things that happened after that. I know I cleaned up our dog, hid him in a trash bag, and said he rain off in the night and got lost. I was terrified. I had no idea what to do. I tried to medicate myself heavily. I locked up all the knives in the house. My wife knew there was something terribly wrong, but I refused to say anything.

I don't even know if I could at the time. The only thing I can still remember clearly was the dreams. I was irate and easily spooked at the littlest of things. I thought it had to just be my nerves from all of this and lack of sleep, but...I remembered my friend. The website. I knew I was getting worse.

The thing I remember most about the dreams, aside from that horrible grinning man, is the emotions. I felt each death that was inflicted in the dream like it was real. Like it was my own hand disemboweling my friends, my family, and random strangers against my own will.

Like each death, each vision of terror he showed me, was not just a vision but my own work. Each horrible death in the dream made him grin a little wider. He wanted me to snap. He wanted me to become exactly what he was showing me. He wanted me to become him.

So, I come here to tell you this because I'm desperate. I need help. You see...I can't bear the thought of harming my wife, the woman I love most in this world. Yet, I know it's inevitable. He's always there, watching and grinning, knowing I'm close to breaking, and nudging me ever closer to the edge. I know what he wants. I can't let him have that. I don't know any other way out.

I'm reaching out to you in hopes that he'll leave me alone. Maybe if you, the careless reader who I warned away, will give him what he wants, he'll let me be. I have to try. I don't know what else to do. I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive a man for acting in desperation.

Grinman

The Man with the Problem

There once was a house upon that hill,

The one that's thick with rot.

There once was a man who lived in that house

Who wasted his days in thought.

There was a problem he couldn't solve,

No matter how hard he tried.

He planned on solving that one conundrum

If it took him until he died.

He didn't eat, he hardly slept,

His house was stacked with books and notes.

All he talked aout was that problem,

And it was the subject of all he wrote.

Until one day, it came to him,

Like a light bulb being lit.

So tremendous, the power of this revelation

That he was sucked right into it.

Him, his house, and all his books,

Consumed by his forbidden thought.

So happy was he that he had the answer,

He hardly even fought.

Years later, a new home was built,

Although it could never be sold;

For the man still lived there, though in another dimension,

Wanting the world to be told

That he figured it out. So he'd leave clues

For those who went in alone.

He'd fog up mirrors or write on the walls,

And he'd say, "I KNOW WHO WAS PHONE."

Pregnancy

Since before I can remember, I've wanted to be a mother. It seemed my whole childhood and teenager years were spent yearning for a child of my own. By the time I was nine, I had names and color schemes for the nursery picked out. All I needed was someone to make them with. But college was disappointing. I went through a while string of bad boyfriends and bad father material.

Getting on with my career didn't seem to help much. I realized, though, when I was twenty-seven - and there were no suitable prospects on the line - that, technically, I didn't need a man to have a child with. I found a sperm donor bank, chose the best prospect they had, got out my turkey baster and...well...hoped for the best.

I was overjoyed when my first pregnancy test came out positive. My doctor was surprised to see me coming in sooner than he'd expected. Before I was four weeks along, I had the nursery painted and the furniture set up. Toys and diapers, bottles and books, bibs and coveralls...I had everything a new mother would need.

I couldn't explain all the wait I was losing, however. I kept getting thinner - everything except for my belly. My friends all joked that it had to be at least twins, or the biggest baby they'd ever seen.

I got weary of the kicking somewhere in the third trimester...and the scratching.

Just one more week until my due date.

I just wish it would stop gnawing.

Polybius

You may have heard of the video game "Polybius." Released only in a small arcade in a suburb of Portland, Oregon, it is infamous for causing nightmares, amnesia, and even suicide in those who played it. Little else was known for decades, but a recent disclosure by an employee of the company who developed it has revealed several details about it.

The first surprise is who developed it. Many had speculated that the United States military developed it for an unknown purpose, probably related to psychological warfare. While the US government did indeed commission it, they hired another company to actually make the game, one you've almost certainly heard of: Nintendo.

As you may know, Donkey Kong was Shigeru Miyamoto's first game, developed in 1981, the same year as Polybius. Nintendo had been hurt by overestimating the appeal of their recent game, Radarscope, and Donkey Kong a desperate gamble, an unconventional game made by an unknown designer that could make or break the company.

That's what we thought, anyway. It turns out Nintendo had another ace up their sleeve: the influential Hiroshi Yamauchi, then president of Nintendo, had heard about the US Military's desire to build a game to be used for psychological attacks. He managed to get the contract and ordered Miyamoto to create the game, using the opportunity to make the game he really wanted to (Donkey Kong) as incentive.

Miyamoto was given some kind of outline by the US military, which he has refused to discuss. The normally cheerful Miyamoto became very quiet and withdrawn, not letting anyone, even Yamauchi, see his work on Polybius. The strict and forceful Yamauchi is reported to have gone into Miyamoto's office to demand he reveal his work so far on Polybius.

Yamauchi came out looking frightened; Miyamoto had somehow gotten Yamauchi to back down, which Nintendo employees unanimously agree has never happened at any other time.

Miyamoto finished Polybius and handed the disc containing the information necessary for production to any army representative who came to Nintendo's office; no one else saw it. Miyamoto remained withdrawn, locking himself in his office every day until he emerged with a completed version of Donkey Kong, back to his cheerful self with no acknowledgment of his strange behavior during the development of Polybius. Miyamoto had recovered, but the saga of Polybius was just beginning.

Creating a game takes a great deal of work and how Miyamoto managed to hide traces of his work on Polybius was quite baffling to the people aware of the incident. The solution to this was recently discovered by a Nintendo of Japan employee. In the employees' lounge of Nintendo of Japan, there is a Donkey Kong arcade machine - one of the very first manufactured.

Donkey Kong was made from modified Radarscope hardware and it seems Miyamoto used this trick to hide the remains of Polybius. A few months ago, a Nintendo employee was playing the Donkey Kong arcade machine. He was distracted and played in an unusual manner. The first sign that something was happening was when the line on Mario's face started curving downwards, as if he was frowning.

The employee was intrigued and kept playing. The graphics started to fall apart; pixels would leave images behind when moved, or move away from their object. While this was happening, the employee was started by an angry shout. Miyamoto had entered the room and was furious. He yelled at the terrified employee to never touch the machine again, and yanked the cabinet's cord out of the wall.

Everyone in the lounge was stunned; Miyamoto had never acted like this before, and he was known for being friendly and calm. Miyamoto regained control of himself, apologized, and told the employee who had been playing not to worry, that he had been upset about something else and had lost control of his emotions.

The employee, familiar with the real development history of Polybius, didn't believe him. He knew he was on to something and managed to take a disc with a copy of the original code of Donkey Kong home with him.

The employee copied the code onto his computer and started hacking into it. There didn't seem to be anything unusual in it, so the employee focused on recreating his situation on the arcade machine. Like string unraveling, he found more and more oddities as he got closer to what he had done earlier. As he suspected, it eventually led to a title screen displaying the title "Polybius."

The employee posted what he had done up to this point online. The last thing anyone heard from him was that he was about to play the mythical game. It is unknown what happened next; the employee committed suicide, one of the most gruesome ever reported in Japan.

Someone who lived close by had been among those who read the employee's progress reports online and he saved them. The employee had destroyed his computer during the suicide, so the police found no evidence that Polybius was involved. The person who made the copy confronted Miyamoto, showing him the proof that Polybius was involved. Using it for blackmail, he got Miyamoto to give him an off-the-record summary of Polybius, which has been made public online.

The only leaked details of Polybius' game-play have been that it was similar to tempest and had amoebas as enemies. The Tempest part is true; the game takes place against a solid black background where you control a human head that moves back and forth, shooting enemies that come at you with scaling that emulates 3D movement. The enemies are easy to mistake for amoebas, but if you look closely they're actually faces with different expressions on them. The enemy names/descriptions Miyamoto gave:

Hope: A twisted, threatening smile with no eyes.

Love: A blank expression, the eyes are lifeless.

Truth: A sad face with red tears visible below the eyes.

In a novel twist for the time, each enemy is dealt with differently. Your character's shot only works on the Hope enemy. Love should simply be avoided, while you should let truth collide with your character. There is a bright flash whenever you fail to do the right thing to an enemy type, but the game has no lives and can only end if no buttons are pressed for thirty seconds.

The flashes have a physical and mental effect on the player; the game enforces a normal three lives rule with them. Three flashes will make most players start to feel dizzy and nervous, enough to make them quit unless they're very determined. They will have vivid nightmares for the next few weeks.

If a player takes a few more, they will forget not only the game, but most functions necessary for independent life; players who get amnesia from the game normally have to be cared for for the rest of their lives.

A very strong-willed person may be able to resist the amnesia stage and keep playing. After a few more flashes, they will faint. As soon as they recover, they will madly attempt everything in their power to commit suicide. The army kept one person who experienced this alive; after nearly thirty years, he still has to be watched every second to prevent him from killing himself.

This was all the information Miyamoto was willing to give, but there were still quite a few unanswered questions about Polybius. With this information released to the internet, the hunt for more was on. Someone claiming to be involved in the project has come forward online; for obvious reasons he does not want his identity revealed, so he has avoided going into any personal details beyond that.

Polybius used a pattern of lights the military had been working on to produce an effect similar to epilepsy in the person who viewed them. The technique had been refined to the point where the light pattern could even cause specific effects by being altered.

For the flashes of light to have the desired effect, they had to be viewed with a degree of concentration, hence why a video game was chosen for the testing process. The arcade machine was to be used to test the effects on a wide variety of people without informing them of the seriousness of the experiment.

Obviously, the plan to test Polybius on innocent, unknowing people was horrible from an ethical standpoint. The rather cold Yamauchi was willing to go along with it for the money that would save his company, but Miyamoto wouldn't and, as the designer, the true nature of the game couldn't be hidden from him.

Miyamoto was shown three flashes immediately after being assigned to the project and told he would keep getting them whenever the effects faded until he finished the game. This was the cause of his odd behavior during the game's development.

The natural question after hearing this is whether the experiment was a success. The army detained several people who had suffered the effects of the flashes during the game's short test in the Portland suburb and, without exception, every test subject responded to the flashes in the expected way.

However, attempts to create an antidote to the effects were unsuccessful and tricking people into playing an arcade machine obviously wasn't a very practical way to deploy a weapon. Due to this, Polybius faded from memory.

...until, that is, technology made a few advancements. The level of concentration needed to make the flashes have their effect can be attained by reading text. The flashes themselves are fairly easy to display on any type of monitor.

Now that computer monitors displaying text and linked to a limitless network are so common, I'm sure you can put two and two together. The military probably isn't going to send the flashes into your computer, but now that the secret is public and the flashes can be found in a common arcade game...

(This story is credited to a person called KI Simpson. Also, you can download Polybius from here.)

Stick Stickly

Stick Stickly may be one of the least creative characters ever made, but he still holds a very special place in the hearts of 90s children for his several years of hosting Nick in the Afternoon. Most information on Stick Stickly says he hosted Nickelodeon's summer afternoon block from 1995-1998, but I always swore that I remembered seeing him on TV earlier than that. I thought I was crazy for quite a while, but recently I found a small fan-site for Stick Stickly that mentioned him hosting a 1993 afternoon block during the school year called Afternoon Snack with Stick Stickly. To my joy, the website even had videos of Stickly's segments. I watched one marked "First Ever Stick Stickly Appearance."

Stick Stickly was in front of a chalkboard with Afternoon Snack written on it in normal writing. His design was a little different; his eyes were smaller, he had no nose, and his mouth was a straight line instead of being curved into a smile. He made a couple of corny jokes, then said Rugrats was coming up. The video ended at that point. I watched the next one - there were six of them and none had dates, but I could only assume they were in chronological order. The second one was called "Stick Gets Injured."

Stick Stickly had the same face from the first video, but his body seemed a little worn; there were a few splinters sticking out of his side. His full dialogue:

"Well, the dog next door buried me, but I managed to get it, the show you all voted to see! Hey Dude is up next, and don't forget to send in your post cards to vote for the special guest show you want to see! And remember, that address is..."

He sang the classic song about writing to him, but the tune was different than in later versions - much slower. After he sang the song, he just stood motionless for a few minutes before the video ended.

The third was called "Hang Stick." Stick Stickly was hanging in the air by a piece of string tied around his waist. A little boy who looked about five was also there, and the chalkboard had six dashes on it, representing a six-letter Hangman word. The kid was guessing letters and each time he got one wrong, the string around Stick's waist would move higher. The game would be over when it reached Stick's "neck."

The kid kept guessing letters and when the rope was one incorrect guess from Stick's neck, the letters filled in were C_NDLE. It was obvious what the word was, but the kid wasn't taking the game very seriously. Giggling, he guessed x. The rope moved to Stick's neck and his eyes flashed out of existence and were replaced by two X's. There was no sound for about thirty seconds; the kid stared at Stick's "body." Then, Stick's eyes flashed back to normal and he laughed, said he was fine and that Wild and Crazy Kids was on next.

The fourth video was called "Stick Quits." Stick was ranting about something that presumably happened in a segment the site didn't have a video of, saying no one respected him, that he was treated like a toothpick, how his father was a mighty ship, and complaining about how the dog kept burying him. The complaints seemed like jokes, but his tone was more serious than you'd expect. A little kid appeared - not the same as in video three - and told Stick that all the children loved him. Stick was silent for quite a while, then sighed and said he would stay. He reminded us to vote in the guest show contest again and said it was time for Rugrats.

The fifth video was marked "Stick Gets Mad (No Sound)." Like the description said, it was silent. Stick was moving very quickly, with body language indicating he was yelling. A little girl was cowering from him, clearly afraid. The girl eventually left and Stick just faced the screen; his animation was so simple that I couldn't tell if he was talking.

The sixth video was called "The Winner Revealed." Stick had a dark red stain on the top of his head and one of his eyes was an X. Stick made no mention of his appearance and announced that the votes were in. It was time for the special guest show to air. His last bit of dialogue:

"It's been a long contest and the vote was close, but you, the kids, have decided! Coming right now, the classic  you voted for, Candle Cove!"

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