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Stakkars deg lars. *klemme*

 

Min bestefar døde av hjerteinfarkt, helt tilfeldig, på et datakurs for eldre. Skulle endelig lære seg data, de hadde nemlig gått til innkjøp av en kjempedårlig bruktpc.

 

Den andre... sitter i fengsel etter voldtekt av sine to barnebarn.

 

Suddenly, the thread took a bad turn.

 

Dere må si fra hvis jeg skal fjerne bildene. Vil ikke ha noen onkel på nakken, men jeg syntes nå det er morsomt.. :)

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Klikk for å se/fjerne innholdet nedenfor
You get a phone call from your Mother. Since her car has been in the shop, she asks you to go to the grocery store and pick up a few odds and ends for her. Bread, milk, cereal, and chicken breasts.

 

After writing down a small list you reluctantly get in the car and pick up the items at the store. The lady cashier makes an odd remark to you, "You know, we're in no danger of a milk shortage." Upon arriving at her house you knock several times. No answer. You decide to try the door. It opens. You place the grocery bag on the counter. Strange. There seems to be eight other grocery bags, each with identical contents. In a couple, the chicken and the milk has gone bad. "Mom?" you call out, but no answer. You make your way through the kitchen and into the living room. Sitting on the couch, with her head cut off and neatly resting on her lap, is your Mother.

 

Naturally you call the police who come over to investigate. They mention that she has been dead for nearly a week. Furthermore, the police psychiatrist is at the scene and talks to you after you give your initial statement. Sitting on the front steps, you overhear the psychiatrist talking with the crime scene investigator. "It's not uncommon for people suffering from schizophrenia to get locked into a series of repetitive behaviors," he says.

 

You think to yourself, "They can't be talking about me. Schizophrenia? Nah. Repetitive behavior? Do they think I did this?" Suddenly your cell phone goes off. "Hello?"

 

"Hi hun, it's me. Could you stop at the store and pick up some chicken and milk. Ohh, and I need some bread and cereal too."

 

"No problem Mom. I'll be right over..."

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Helt tilfeldig at ei jente sendte meg den «red»-historien på MSN i går? O O

 

Creepypasta.

 

 

Look behind you. What do you see? Invariably, there will be a wall somewhere in your view. Now stare deeply into the space on the wall that line up best with your eyes. Nothing will happen, but make sure you are clear on where this particular spot is. That spot contains all the negativity in your mind. Whenever you are on your computer, reading scary stories or whatever you do, sometimes you will get spooked. What do you do when this happens? You check behind you, that’s what you do. As you read this now, a feeling of dread will come over you. Check the spot. Nothing again, huh? That’s because right now, all the evil is locked safely in your mind.

 

Some people, upon learning of this "negative spot" resolve to remove the spot in an attempt to remove the negative energy. This is a grave mistake. You must never let harm come to this spot. If you do, you will have released the energy. Now when you sit at your computer at night, you will feel chills even in the summer time. The feeling of dread that only presented itself when you were genuinely scared will now hang in the air constantly. Within a week you and your loved ones will have a string of bad luck.

 

Within a month your computer will begin to act erratic and eventually break down. On the anniversary of the spot's destruction, you will dream of your most horrible fears. The dream will seem to go on forever, and when you wake up you will notice your vision has darkened. Every year on the same day, the dream will repeat itself, and your vision will grow darker and darker. After you go totally blind, don’t ever turn your back on that spot again. That is if you can still tell where it is.

 

 

EDIT: Både jeg, og moren min er helt sikre på at vi så bestefaren, den gode bestefaren, nøyaktig to måneder etter hans død, i byen. Vi var sammen, og vi fikk aldri kontakt med han i vrimmelet av folk.

 

Mamma så han først, og sa til meg noe liknende; "Mats!? Han ser ut som pappa." (=bestefar).

 

Min mor hadde en del problemer med at hun ikke klarte å godta hennes fars død. Hun trodde flere ganger hun så han, men som viste seg å være helt ukjent.

 

Jeg tror det er medisinsk godtatt, man vil ha personen så mye tilbake at man blir helt mindfucked.

 

Og dette er ikke creepypasta, men jeg er sikker på jeg så han. Så bestemora di drømte kanskje, Lars. Kanskje ikke?

 

EDIT: Eplefe, nei han er ikke fra Trøndelag.

Endret av Binko
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Jeg kommer faen ikke til å få sove i natt.
Jeg merker jeg blir trøtt, og jeg sitter og leser det. Små pauser med hjertebank - så trøtt igjen.

 

Edit:

Klikk for å se/fjerne innholdet nedenfor
You were out of town for the weekend. When you came back to your apartment, your mailbox was stuffed full. At least 30 letters. Letters with no return address, several of them felt soggy and heavy, as though they were recently wet, or perhaps contained a liquid. All of the letters have your name and address written on them, and many of them had your name scratched all over them in red ink. They don't smell nice, they smell like rotting meat and old garbage and you're reluctant to take them back to your room, but curiosity gets the better of you.

 

So you manage to cart them all back to your room, you dump them in your kitchenette sink because you don't want them smelling up the rest of the apartment. You grab one that doesn't seem damp and isn't covered with writing, and open it up. There's pictures inside. Pictures of people you don't know, with their eyes torn out, teeth missing, unhinged jaws hanging open, throats ripped out. You're horrified and yet you can't help but wonder what's in the rest of the letters. You open more, and more to discover increasingly gruesome photos of dead people. Piles of bodies with limbs missing, splayed open corpses on operating tables with their vital organs removed, hanged bodies that have been gutted and bled dry. Some of the soggy letters had blood and other fluids in them. The more letters you open, the more you notice that not all of the people are strangers. Some of them were people you see at work, others people you went to high school with. By the time you get to the last few letters, the pictures are of the mutilated bodies of your close friends and family members.

Eventually you reach the last letter. You don't want to know what's in it, but it's not like you have a choice now. You peel the letter open, and it's a picture of yourself. Not dead, eyes intact, no limbs missing. It's a picture of you entering your apartment building earlier that day, shortly before you collected your disgusting letters. As you hear a door elsewhere in your apartment open, you black out.

Endret av Eplefe
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Jeg innehar ikke evnen til å ikke klikke på spoilere. Jeg vet ikke hvor mange bøker og filmer som er blitt ødelagt for meg pga. det. Eller hvor mange søvnløse netter jeg har fått pga. det.

 

Edit: Jeg skjønte forresten ikke den med dagligvarehandlingen, men den skremte meg selv om.

Endret av Pusur1993
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