I just googled this and read all the REVOLTING details and I literally want to destroy the world because everything is ****ED if people can do that to one another. Help!!!!!
I’m posting this through a botnet, so don’t even think about getting cute and trying to find me. I’ve got enough trouble with people finding me as it is. It all started a few months ago, when I found a good source of amphetamines on a deep web marketplace I won’t name. I live in a town so small and bland that even the local high school kids don’t bother selling drugs. It’s boring as sin here, which is one of the reasons I started ordering speed online in the first place.
I was always very cautious. I tumbled my bitcoins carefully and ensured that every transaction was well-encrypted. Yes, before you even ask, the proxies I used were fully configured and trustworthy ones. It wasn’t the technology that failed me at all, actually. It was a single mistake in judgement. To a single trusted seller, I gave my real physical address.
At first I was only getting small packages for my personal use, so it was easy to have them delivered to the house of an old woman who lives nearby. Her live-in nurse consistently checked the mail very late in the day, so there was never much of an issue in retrieving the speed before it was noticed. But my habit grew and I began to introduce my close friends to the drug, so eventually I contacted my seller about ordering much larger quantities – enough for me to sell locally.
We began to work like business partners in a supply chain, and I was placing substantial orders regularly. The speed originally came to me in small padded envelopes, but now it would have to be shipped in a larger cardboard box. The envelopes always fit easily inside a mailbox, but a box like this would have to be delivered to the front door. I couldn’t have the mailman walking up a stranger’s driveway to ring the doorbell, so I requested that the speed start being sent directly to me. I knew by this point that seller was a legitimate and reliable source, so trusting him with my address just seemed safer than the alternative.
We had become something like casual friends by this point, and began to do things together like frequent the same deep web communities and chat if we were both online. My seller was wickedly funny sometimes, and really seemed to be a nice guy. I guess that’s part of why I trusted him. But then again, it’s not his fault about what happened.
Recently, though, I got a totally unsatisfactory shipment. The pressed pills looked right at first, but tasted like bitter flour and were far too brittle. They produced no high at all. I had been stiffed, and when I checked the marketplace I found that my seller’s accounts had been closed out. He left no messages to explain it. I assumed that he had just ripped me off, but it also didn’t seem like something he would do. I wondered if I had misjudged him.
Yesterday, I noticed that one of his accounts was actively posting on one of the small community forums that we frequented together. I contacted him immediately in a private message and asked whether he knew that his last batch was complete bunk. It took about 25 minutes before I got any response, but suddenly the messages began pouring in.
[Seller’s Account]: The person you’re trying to contact has passed away. Sorry.
[Seller’s Account]: He’s such a home-body that nobody has knocked on his door the whole time I’ve been here.
[Seller’s Account]: Three whole weeks with no visitors!
[Seller’s Account]: Isn’t that funny?
[Seller’s Account]: I’m almost done eating him. I wasted very little soft tissue.
[Seller’s Account:] He had almost no food in the house when I killed him, so I didn’t even need to clear out the fridge to store his meat!
[Seller’s Account]: I haven’t even needed to take out the trash yet.
[Seller’s Account]: Isn’t that sort of funny?
[Seller’s Account]: I’ve been poking around his computer too.
[Seller’s Account]: Going through his files is like solving a big puzzle cube.
[Seller’s Account]: But I’m making progress.
I wrote back, and accused him of taking a weird joke too far. I told him that he at least owed me an explanation for the last shipment.
[Seller’s Account]: They’re bonemeal.
[Seller’s Account]: You never smelled bonemeal?
[Seller’s Account]: Did you never have a garden as a kid or anything?
[Seller’s Account]: I thought that’d be obvious.
[Seller’s Account]: His skeleton was the only thing I hadn’t figured out what to do with yet.
[Seller’s Account]: I realized that I could solve that issue and also play a little prank.
[Seller’s Account]: Come on. Don’t you think that’s a funny idea?
There was a brief pause, and then another short volley of messages appeared before I could form my response.
[Seller’s Account]: You know, you actually don’t live too far away from where I am now.
[Seller’s Account]: Judging by the address I have here, you and this guy are just over the state line from each other.
[Seller’s Account]: Isn’t that something?
[Seller’s Account]: Well, be seeing you.
What do you think? It’s probably just a scheme to scare me off, right?
Alright, so I'm not someone who's into the paranormal or the supernatural. I don't believe in ghosts, monsters, aliens, or anything like that. However, I have to write about what happened to me last week, because I honestly don't know how to explain it. I work in the sales department for a large company, and I'm frequently required to travel. When I have to go out of town for business, I almost always drive. I've always loved road trips, and I really enjoy the time alone. It's just me, some music, greasy fast food, and the open road. When I'm on a longer trip, I usually sleep in a hotel somewhere in the day time, and drive at night. There aren't as many people on the road, and there's less chance of getting a ticket for speeding. It was during my last road trip that I experienced something strange...and it was the scariest thing that's ever happened to me.
I was driving through Texas along Interstate 40. I had left Amarillo and was planning to drive through Albuquerque to Flagstaff. Sometime after 1 a.m., I drove through a small town in Texas called Glenrio. Glenrio seemed to either be completely closed down at that time of night, or it was a total ghost town. About 10 miles later, there was a rest stop. As you can expect, it was just your typical dirty rest stop with a few vending machines and a restroom. I figured I'd pull in, use the restroom, maybe grab a candy bar and a soda from one of the machines, and continue along the interstate. First of all, there weren't any other cars parked at the rest stop, which isn't unusual outside a small town at that time of night. I parked my car and headed for the restroom. The restroom was dirty, dimly lit, with those stainless steel toilets. There was grafitti on the walls and along the mirrors, and that usual gross smell that's unique to rest stop bathrooms. There was nothing more unusual or strange about it than any restroom you'd see at any other rest stop in America. I stood in front of one of the urinals to do my business, and that's when I started hearing a strange noise.
It sounded like laughter..but kind of..gargled. Almost like someone was laughing from underwater. I don't know how else to explain it. It wasn't a loud laughter..more of a chuckle. It was only for a moment, and then it stopped.
Like I said, I'm a very rational person, so I didn't think much of it. I thought it was probably just a plumbing issue or something. Just before I had finished doing my business, I heard it again. Only it was louder this time..just a gargled laugh.
The bathroom had several stalls, and like I said it was dimly lit. The sound was coming from the stall furthest down, the stall door was closed, and it was the stall with the least amount of light, rendering it almost totally dark. "Hello?" I said. As soon as I spoke, the sound stopped again. "Is there anyone in there? Are you alright?". There was another sound. Almost like someone dragging their feet. Then there was silence.
I bent down so I could see underneath all the stalls. Now like I said, there wasn't much light illuminating that particular bathroom stall, but I could tell there was no one in there. I shrugged and went to wash my hands before heading back out to my car. Just as I was drying my hands I heard a creak. I never turned around, but behind my reflection in the mirror I could see the door to that dark stall slowly creaking open. What I saw instantly filled me with the worst sense of dread I've ever experienced. It looked like a man, but I knew it wasn't. The stall door had opened only just a crack, and I could see half of it's face. It had a smile too large for it's face, sharp yellow teeth, dark black eyes like a doll's, and no nose. It was almost grey in color, with patches of dirty black hair. I just stared at this thing, and it laughed again. The laugh was different this time. It sounded how the devil must sound if he were to laugh. I ran out of that bathroom like a bat out of hell, with that horrible laughter following me the whole time. I didn't stop and look back and see if that thing followed me out of the bathroom until I got to my car. I was alone in the parking lot and whatever it was never came after me.
I continued my drive and the rest of my trip was fine. I just made it back home yesterday and thought maybe it would help make sense of things if I wrote it down.
Like I said, I'm a rational person, I don't believe in the paranormal or the supernatural...but if you're driving through Glenrio, Texas...don't stop at any rest stops..just to be safe.
The past six years I've been working at a Mcdonalds.
Last night was the worst I've ever had.
Quote:
I'm going to get straight to the point here; I've seen some **** at work that I don't think was of this earth.
The first thing I think I should do is introduce myself. I'm Bill, a twenty year old McDonald's Manager, working out of a small suburb in rural Sydney, Australia. I've been working here for roughly six years now, a manager for almost two. They've been uneventful, boring years. The monotony of the job has the phrase 'Hi, may I take your order please' robotic in nature, and order taking itself has gotten to the point that by the time the car has driven from the initial order point to my window, I have no recollection of the details of the order. It's in the drive-thru that my ordeal takes place, as a matter of fact. I've yet to go to the US, so I can't compare drive-thrus, though from what I've heard, it's a single lane that stretches around the outside of a building, with an order-point, a cashier and a third point where the food is actually handed out. This is the basic structure that ours conforms to, however, where it differs from most is that there are two lanes, rather than one, at the order-taking point. Essentially, provided there are two staff available to take orders, we can take twice as many orders in the same amount of time. This system is far more cumbersome and slow for some customers, however; unless the actual sensors are calibrated correctly, as well as working security cameras, some cars are simply ignored by the system while other customers in the other lane are served first.
So, mini-explanation over, I'll elaborate as to the creepy **** that occurred just last night.
As I've already stated, I manage the night shift on Friday and Saturday nights; what this involves is myself and another crew member catering to the whole store's needs from 10pm til 5am, from serving in the drive-thru, to food production to even serving on the counter once it re-opens at 5am. Provided the crew member I'm provided is experienced, the night shifts tend to go off without a hitch. Last night, however, is where trouble started.
The first thing that initially went wrong was the failure of my crew-person to show up. 10:30 is the offical start time of crew people, managers typically half an hour before as to ensure that the previous crew have done their jobs and left the store in an acceptable condition. When it crept around to 11pm and my crew member hadn't yet turned up, I sighed inwardly, picked up the phone and dialled his number. I was counting on him to show up; an issue with the rosters had caused all my other crew to finish at 11pm, instead of one or two at Midnight.
Ring... Ring... Nothing, there was no answer.
Resigning myself to a long and lonesome night (even the longest shifts are brightened by someone else being in the store) I started to turn around and prep the store, when I was startled out of my wits by the phone ringing again. I eagerly picked it up, answering with the standard " ______ McDonald's, William speaking..."
I gave a few seconds, hoping to hear the voice of the crew member that hadn't arrived, apologising for their tardiness. A few more seconds of silence, then suddenly
Click.
The phone went dead.
Now when I say dead, I mean dead. The handset died, as did the dial. I couldn't even get a tone out of the thing. I grabbed my mobile, intending to call the head manager and warn them about the dead phone and truant crew member.
No signal. This night was only going to get better.
Annoyed by the circumstances, plus the fact that I would probably be blamed for the broken phone and missing member, I bid farewell to the last closer off at 11pm and shut the front doors. The way our McDonald's worked is this; a dual lane drive thru, open twenty four hours, with a front counter only open from five am til midnight. For small term shifts, like weekday overnights, a sole manager is typically allowed to run the store by himself if the secondary staff member can't make their shift or there's a conflict of rosters. For the next five hours until the cafe crew arrived at 4am in time for the breakfast rush, I would be alone.
Decidedly going about my work with a monotony that would be more suited to paint drying than a shift manager, I spent the first two or three hours relatively at ease. I was lucky in the fact that the five or six cars that came through were drunk and understanding, only after sundaes or frozen drinks. I had just finished my bun stock and stock check for the next morning when I ducked outside in the corral, where the spare bun trays and dumpsters were kept for a cigarette. Just as I'd brought the lighter to my lips
Beep.
Beep.
My headset beeped twice, indicating a car entering and waiting to order in the second lane. I cursed my bad luck; first an absence, then a broken phone, now this?! I ducked inside and headed to the order taker box.
"Hi, may I take your or-"
I stopped mid sentence as I glanced up at the security feed and saw...
Nothing.
There was no car in either lane.
I looked further up at the sensor that told us what car was at what window, with a resounding negative to the concept that there was a car in the drive thru.
Both screens showed up blank, both said no cars available. I shrugged and moved out of the box, writing up the issue to outdated tech and computer error, when it happened again.
Beep
Beep.
Knowing that I had definitely heard it this time, I jumped back into the box, not even looking up when I uttered the famous phrase
"Hi may I take your order please?"
Silence.
Again, suspecting another computer error, I looked up. What I saw made me start.
There was a woman standing in the second lane, the one furthest away from the building. She had her back to the security camera, and was standing half facing the speaker box, half away. Dressed in what appeared to be a short white dress, I assumed she had just come from the bar down the road; we get a lot of walk-throughs who we can't serve due to store policy. While the sensor that indicated a car presence still did not show any signs, the beeper was based on motion detection.
Assuming it was just a drunk customer, I gathered myself and spoke through the speaker;
"Im sorry Madam, but we can't serve customers on foot through the drive thru due to health and safety hazards. You have to be in a car in order to place an order."
Silence.
The woman just stood there, back to the camera.
At this point I was starting to get annoyed; the last thing I needed was a customer just ****ing with my night and drive-thru lane. As I readied to repeat myself, I stopped, my hand halfway to the button that would allow me to speak to her.
She was crying.
At least, I think she was. She still stood with her back to me, but her shoulders were ...shaking? No, that's not the right word for it. Her shoulders were rolling back and forth, as if they were pistons rolling in their sockets. Her long hair, which fell down the small of her back, shook back and forth.
With the exception of her shoulders, she stood remarkably still. While odd, I've seen some crazies come and go. I chalked it up to an alcoholic bender, so I repeated myself.
"I'm sorry Ma'am, but the drive thru is for vehicles only. We can't take your order at this time."
I switched my microphone off and waited for a response. When I realised nothing was forthcoming, I sighed and left the box. An approaching car would no doubt make her move.
Now, there's one feature of the drive thru I haven't yet highlighted, and it's to do with the speaker box. When a car pulls up, not only does the beeping occur, but the receiver inside the speaker box activates; as a result, I can always hear whatever a car is saying, but unless I activate the microphone, they won't hear me. It essentially acts as a one way radio.
Now, when this woman at three in the morning came through to my window, and I asked her to move, she hadn't made a sound. After my aforementioned second attempt at moving her, and my resulting giving up, my microphone was switched off, but I could still hear her. Seeing as she had remained silent, I went about my business, writing up a memo for the head manager as to the stock levels, when I heard it.
Snap.
The crack of static had scared me out of my wits. I looked up at the security feed.
She was still there, except this time... This time she was bent towards the order box. As I reached up to ask her to leave, a cold chill went down my back. Through the soft static in my headset, I could hear...
Whispering.
Her lank hair fell about her face in curls. The bedraggled white gown she wore was stained and cut in several places. But her mouth, her mouth wasn't moving. There she was, facing the camera, while this whispering crept through my thoughts. It was soft, unintelligible, but the sound of it made me want to scream and run. Gathering myself, I want to say I spoke with authority but it probably came out shakier than a Campbelltown train.
"M-ma'am? Are you okay?"
The whispering continued, though now I could hear the words. And that was the worst part. It wasn't a demonic muttering or death threats; It might even be easier that way. It was simply a voice, my voice, repeated over and over and over again.
It kept varying in pitch, starting in a little girls voice and ending in a deep baritone; as if whatever the voice belonged to couldn't decide what it was or what it wanted to replicate. Repeating the words over and over. "Ma'am are you okay ma'am are you okay ma'am are you okay ma'am are you ok-" I couldn't help it, I locked myself in the office. **** any customers that drove through, **** any workers showing up. I wasn't leaving for any reason. There's only one problem. Earlier, when I was taking the drunk cars, we were so busy that I'd left the window closed, but unlocked.
I don't remember the next part; all I remember is the fear that gripped me as time dragged on with broken fingers.
I found the following notes the next day, scribbled in my personal section of the Managers notes diary.
3:15am.
I heard the window slide open. The security feed doesn't cover the hallway between the box and the office.
3:30am.
I can hear footsteps. Agonisingly heavy, dragging every second beat.
I still can't find her on the monitor.
3:45am.
I have five more minutes until the open crew arrive. The footsteps have stopped, if only for one reason. The manager's office has a glass pane in the door: she's standing on the other side. I know. I can hear the whispering. I haven't seen her face. I don't want to. Why is she here? Please. Leave. Why my voice? It's in my head, twisting in my thoughts. It won't stop. Please. Incessant. Over and over. Okay. Ma'am. Stoppleasestoppleasestoppleamaamareyouokaymaamarey ouokaymaamareyouokaymaamareyouokaymaamareyouokayma amareyouokaymaamareyouokaymaamareyouokaymaamareyou okaymaamareyouokaymaamareyouokaymaamareyouokaymaam areyouokaymaamareyouokaymaamareyouokaymaamareyouok aymaamareyouokaymaamareyouokaymaamareyouokaymaamar eyouokay
3:50am. I can see the openers' cars arriving on the carpark feed. They're outside on the patio. I'm so relieved, this nightmare is over. And by instinct I look up. She's still here. She's smiling.
That's the only recollection I have of the time I spent in the Office. My amnesia was broken by the arrival of the cafe crew, knocking on the door. Apart from a few strange looks, they didn't seem to have any concerns. There was no mention of any woman, no trace of her presence. The drive-thru order taker window was locked when I approached it.
I don't know what's happened. I don't know who she was. The security tapes just show static between 3 and 4am, with the static stopping with the door being opened by the cafe crew. There are a few short frames of me cowering in the office around the corner, apparently scared for my life, before unbending and opening the door following their arrival. I can't have anyone know about this; the pages from the manager books have been removed, I can't have anyone think I'm crazy and subsequently jeopardise my job security. As far as I can tell, the other crew just think I dozed off for a few minutes in the office, it happens more often than you think to overnight crew, one of those things that are overlooked provided you've finished your jobs and reset the registers.
But as I look at the roster for next week, my heart can't help but fill with dread as I read the small bar.
When I was 10 years old my step-dad and I were out visiting his cousin, who lived in a rural area in Southern Oregon. We had stayed out late and the sun had gone down about two hours before we called it a night and started to head home, about forty minutes away. We were driving through a lightly wooded area with several ranches spread along the route, but for the most part the road was empty and pitch black outside of our headlights. As we cruised along the winding back road a car suddenly came up behind us at excessive speed. Without missing a beat the guy swerved around us and flew on down the road, soon out of sight around the next turn in the road. "Jerk," my dad muttered. I had been half asleep but I agreed with my dad and leaned my head back against the window. We drove on for about another half mile when we saw the guy again.
My dad pulled to a stop as we came onto the scene. The man had taken a turn too sharply and run through a mailbox, through a fence and into a tree. The car was smashed, the front end crushed in from the impact, glass everywhere, and steam from the radiator poured into the cold night air. The guy stood next to his car staring at it. My dad told me to stay there and got out. I could see him walk over to the guy and say something. The guy pointed at his car then spoke to my dad. After a minute they walked back to our car and my dad got into the driver's seat, the guy got into the back as I was in the front seat. I glanced back at the man's car and all the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I sat stiffly in my seat as my dad started our car and began driving.
"We're gonna give this guy a ride home," my dad explained.
"Kay," I replied.
The guy spoke. "Hey, I really appreciate this. I guess I judged that turn wrong. My wife is gonna be pissed. Just glad I made it out okay."
"Yeah," my dad replied.
The man made small talk with my dad and tried to talk to me a couple times, asking where we lived, where I went to school, if I liked my teacher, that kind of thing. I only answered him with one word answers, refusing to look over my shoulder or in the rear view mirror at him. After a few miles he said "This is it," and we pulled over. He got out and walked around to my dad's side of the car.
"Hey thanks, I really appreciate this." He held his hand out and my dad shook it, then we started back home. After about ten minutes I turned to my dad.
"Dad. That guy..."
"I know," he said.
"But dad. I saw into his car. He was still in there."
He looked at me with a very serious look that I'd never seen before or since.
"I know."
We've never spoken about it since then, and I've never told anyone else.
Let me bump this with this ****ing scary story I just read NoSleep. Just read it. One of the most scariest stories ve ever read.
I WAS PART OF THE QUEEN'S GUARD
Quote:
This happened to my brother-in-law two years ago. I am telling the story exactly the way he told me it. He appeared very genuine when telling it, and, you know what, after all that's happened to me, I have no reason not believe him. And as for you, well, you be the judge.
I was in the English army, you know? Two tours in Iraq, one in Afghanistan. My mom absolutely hated the life I chose, and I can’t really blame her. But you know what? The ****ed up part is that the biggest horror I’ve ever experienced wasn’t in one of those ****** eastern places, no, it was in the very center of European “civilization”, London.
After I finished my third tour, I was awarded by the army. Apparently, surviving fighting Taliban in the mountains is reason enough to be honored. They offered me a spot in Queen’s Guard. I’m not sure how much you know about that, but in England, it’s a pretty big deal. And I hated it. I was permanently stationed at home, and as a reward for my “bravery” I was now standing in front of buildings motionless while annoying Chinese tourists tried to make me laugh. I wanted out, but the honor of the position, combined with my mother’s happiness that the biggest danger I could ever face would be an Asian tourist, I had no choice but to do it. Only if I knew I’d be safer in some cave in Kabul…
So I was stationed to work at the Tower of London few shifts a week. Shifts were usually 2-3 hours long, depending on how many people worked that day. Gotta tell you, that job gets old quickly. Drunk people who try to mess with you along with annoying tourists who think they’re the first ones ever to try to make you laugh, you just want out of your own skin. But it was a job, and it paid, so I shut the **** up and did it.
Now, this one day, this one day in 2012 started boring as any other day. I had a few French guys trying to mess with me (god they’re the worst, and you can’t do **** unless they threaten you), then I had a group of drunk Russian chicks which wasn’t so bad. The heat was just starting to melt that ****ing hat into my skull when a huge group of tourists showed up. Some sort of a guided tour, I assumed. They all did their standard spiel, pictures, “funny” faces, jokes, etc. They all had their cameras out, and they all wore same t-shirts, some Big Ben tour ********. All but one. I noticed her standing in the back, just staring at me. She was a good looking woman, probably early forties, really dark long hair and somewhat pale, which made me think she was English. She did seem to be the part of the tour as she stood with all of the others.
After the group finally took enough pictures and realized I wasn’t gonna laugh, they started moving on. Except the pale woman who stayed and kept watching me. Now, I’ve seen my fair share of people doing all kinds of stupid stuff to get a reaction out of me, but this was a new one. Not only that, this lady was committed. Two hours and hundreds of tourists later, she still stood in the very same spot, just staring at me. The day got pretty hot and there was no way she was comfortable, but I **** you not, she was calmer than I was. She wasn’t smiling which was strange because I assumed she was trying to make me react. About thirty minutes later, when the crowd around me slowly died out, she took a slow step towards me. Then another one. “Here we go, joke incoming” I thought as she took her sweet time walking up closer.
She stopped about two feet away from me. She was looking straight into my eyes. Tilted her head to the left, then to the right, which I assumed was her attempt at making me laugh. Then I realized this woman wasn’t here to joke around. Still standing at two feet away, she started leaning towards me. There was something just so ****ed up about her mannerisms that made me extremely uneasy. She never lost an eye contact with me. She kept leaning towards me while her feet never moved. Her face stopped just short of touching mine and her position seemed unnatural at that point. Her head started slowly shaking, like when you get out of the pool or a shower and are freezing, you know?
And then, then she scared the ****ing **** out of me. I had people screaming in my face, I even had a moron trying to fight me, but what she did was by far the worst. She opened her mouth as if she were about to let the loudest scream at me, but nothing came out. Nothing. She just stood there, leaned at an unnatural angle, inches from my face, letting a ****ing silent scream or whatever that was out of her wide open mouth. And the speed of her shaking increased. Now, I’m not gonna lie, even though it was really hot that day, I started feeling cold and goosebumps ran under my uniform. I finally got myself together and started marching away from her – we are allowed to do a 10-step march occasionally.
When I got to the end of one way, I stopped and closed my eyes. I just wanted her to be gone when I turned around. As I made a 180 degree turn, I instantly froze. She was right in front of me; leaned all the way to my face, mouth open even wider, head now shaking uncontrollably. I was so taken aback, I was unable to react. Noise, screaming, and other stuff I can deal with, but this silent creepy ****ing behavior was honestly intimidating me.
“Make way for the Queens Guard!” I yelled. We are allowed to say that when someone is in our way. She didn’t react, but she did lean farther to about an inch from my face.
“MAKE WAY FOR THE QUEEN’S GUARD” I yelled even louder, hoping my voice wouldn’t break.
She had absolutely zero regard for my orders. Unwilling to deal with the ******** any longer, I stepped back and pointed my bayonet at her. That was our last resort for annoying tourists.
She immediately closed her mouth and leaned back into a normal human position. I wasn’t going to wait for her to do whatever she was about to do, so I started marching around her. When I got back to my post, I turned around and stood still. I couldn’t see her in the corner of my eye which gave me a huge relief. “Jesus, this ****ing job” I thought to myself “I’m gonna have to look into…”
“10, 9, 8” someone whispered in my right ear. It must be her. She was behind me.
“10, 9, 8” whispers came from my left side. Goosebumps were at an all-time erect now. Hilarious, isn’t it? Combat vet, killed more people than he’d ever want to admit, is now scared to hell of some ******* tourist lady.
“10, 9, 8, 10, 9, 8, 10, 9, 8” she sped up her whispering. Then walked in front of me. “10, 9, 8, 10, 9, 8” she was now whispering incredibly fast. Actually, whispering doesn’t describe it properly. It was like yelling, but in a whisper tone, if that makes any sense. It was surreal. She leaned towards my face again, whispering those ****ing numbers franticly.
I was about to break my orders. I couldn’t take it anymore. There was something ****ed up about this woman, and I couldn’t deal with it.
“Ma’m,” I spoke in a voice of the biggest scared *****, “Ma’m will you please step…”
And then, a huge group of loud tourist ran up to us. The crazy woman leaned back, still looking at me. She whispered “10, 9, 8” one more time while never losing an eye contact. Then she walked away, as slowly as she moved around me. It was so strange watching her slowly disappear into the crowd. All that was left was a strange feeling of something unnatural. That, and a group of life-saving Asian tourists. Never thought I’d be so happy to see a Nikon-snapping Chinese guy.
After my shift was done, I went into our base and told the story to a couple of guys. They all had some experience with creepy people, but never on this level. When our shift commander came, guys jokingly told him how I was “abused” on duty. He wanted some laughs, so he asked for the full story. But when I started telling what happened, he quickly lost his smile.
“Stop, stop,” he said. “Did you talk to her?”
“Sir?” I asked intrigued.
“Son, did you or did you not speak to this woman?”
I wasn’t gonna lose my weekly pay over breaking that stupid no-talking rule, so I lied. “Of course not, sir.”
He seemed to calm down. “Good. And if she ever comes back, never talk back, understood? And that goes for all of you.”
Joking atmosphere quickly died out in the break room. I was puzzled, but I was even more tired, so I decided to go home and sleep instead of worrying about crazy ****ing tourists.
Next few shifts went by as boring as they were supposed to be. Woman was nowhere to be seen, and since my girlfriend was about to visit me all the way from Netherlands, I forgot about the incident.
Tuesday night around 3am, I was awoken by loud banging at the door. For some strange reason, the first thought that crossed my mind was that ****ed up woman from a week ago.
“Babe, would you mind peeping through the hole to see who it is?” I lazily mumbled as I gently pushed my girlfriend. She was dead asleep; I swear nothing could wake her up. Semi-conscious, I stumbled through the hallway and to the door. “Who is it?” I muttered while peeking through the hole, but it was too dark outside. That sobered me up. “Who is it?” I asked again, but the only answer I got was louder banging.
“**** it” I thought as I took a deep breath and opened the door.
There are about million things I’d rather see standing in front of me at that moment. And there was only one person I did not expect to be at the door.
My girlfriend.
I was supposed to pick her up tonight.
I nearly lost all control of my legs. Thousand things raced through my mind which was having trouble comprehending what in the **** was happening.
“Thanks for picking me up at the Heathrow, asshole,” my girlfriend said as she slammed the carryon on my chest. I was still speechless.
“So, I travel all the way from Amsterdam to see you, and you forget? Really?”
I wasn’t hearing it. I knew I was half asleep when I got up, but there WAS someone in my bed. I wasn’t dreaming for ****’s sake.
“Stay here” I mumbled as I handed her the bag back.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just stay here.”
Not knowing where I got the courage to walk to the bedroom, I slowly made my way.
I know what you’re thinking – in movies and books, guy walks into the room and boom, its empty, right? I ****ing wish.
I walked into my room and it was completely dark. But I could hear breathing. Heavy breathing. My pulse was so high I was sure I was gonna pass out, but I flipped the switch.
“7, 6, 5, 7, 6, 5” whispers came from the corner of the room where she stood. That same ****ing woman. She stood almost glued to the corner of the room, her back to the wall. She was looking straight at me. And though I was sure I lost the power of speech, I managed to squeeze out a “What the ****”.
“7, 6, 5” she said as she took the first slow step towards me. Her mouth was always wide open, as if she were letting out that damn soundless scream. Every step she’d make, she’d close her mouth enough to say “7, 6, 5”.
I couldn’t move. Nothing in this world existed besides this woman slowly walking towards me. What a creepy and unsettling feeling. Like, I wasn’t physically afraid of her, right? I could take her down – and was ready to. But this kind of fear was something foreign to me. Seemed like I was afraid for my, ****, I don’t know, soul? You know what I mean? I knew she couldn’t hurt me physically, but I was stills scared. Not to mention I ****ing somehow slept in the same bed with this whatever the **** she is.
She came incredibly close to me. The familiar lean. An inch from my face. My breathing was so irregular and loud, it was the only noise in the room.
“7, 6, 5.”
Suddenly, something about this had a strangely familiar feeling.
“WHAT THE ****?!” scream came from behind me.
My girlfriend.
I snapped into reality, turned around and grabbed my girl. “Run!” I yelled as we escaped the room. We ran to the kitchen where I grabbed one of those “As seen on TV” steel-cutting knives. My girlfriend was just silently weeping at my side, unable to even ask questions.
I could hear footsteps. First, I saw her shadow, then I saw her calmly walking through the hallway. Her mouth was now so unnaturally wide open, and she wasn’t looking at me anymore. She was looking at the ceiling as she slowly made her way to the door. Her head was shaking very fast. It was abso-****ing-lutely surreal, I’m telling you. I mean, just imagine, this woman, who creeped you out a week ago, is now walking through your place at 3 in the morning, staring at the ceiling with mouth impossibly wide open. Not to mention you slept next to her for who knows how long.
When she finally walked out, I ran to the door and slammed it. Girlfriend was still unable to speak. When we got ourselves together, I was afraid she’d think I cheated on her with this woman, but she didn’t. She saw that horror walk through out hallway and she knew something was wrong.
I was terrified, but I didn’t let it show. The scariest part of everything was that I had a job that required me to stand still and not react to my surroundings. I told my girlfriend about my experience with this ****ed up woman, but I didn’t mention her “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5” whispers. I didn’t want to scare her any further.
Because , what could those whispers be if not a countdown?
Please forgive me for splitting this account in parts- it couldn’t all fit in one post. First write-up is here.
I was hesitant to call the police after that crazy whatever-she-was left my apartment, but my girlfriend wouldn’t have it. Police were at our place in about 20 minutes. Took our statements, woman’s description, and told us to immediately call should anything else happen.
But my mind was set on something else. My commander. He told me not to talk to her. And I did. And now I’m waking up in bed with her, and how the **** did she even get into my flat, **** man, too many thoughts.
The next day I went to my commander’s office.
“Sir,” I said very carefully – you need to understand that losing this job, no matter how ****** it was, definitely wasn’t on my to-do list - “Sir, we need to talk.”
He looked up at me from his desk and I swear to you, I swear he already knew. His face lost all the emotion. He didn’t even ask what was happening. “Sit,” he said as he leaned back in his chair.
“Sir, I…” I was having a hard time confessing to breaking the rules of the Guard.
“You spoke to her. You responded.” He said as he leaned towards me. “Didn’t you.”
“Well, I just asked her to move, that’s all.”
“No, not the Queen’s Guard command. Did you say anything else to her?” “I did.” ** If you remember, besides me yelling “MAKE WAY FOR THE QUEEN’S GUARD”, I did say “Ma’m, will you please…”**
“God damn it, son. God ****ing damn it.”
This was the first time I heard my commander curse.
“Sir, who is this woman?”
“I’m going to file for your immediate removal from the guard,” he brushed me off as he opened his desk to look for something.
“Sir?” I asked, not believing I was about to lose my job.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find you something else to do. But your days in the Guard are over. Expect the transfer within a week.”
“Sir, but I was just…” “That is all, son, you can leave now.” He said, not even looking at me.
I was pissed. But then again, if I was going to keep the paycheck without having to stand in the street and deal with tourists/crazy ****ing creatures, I was fine.
The new schedule came out and, what do you know, I was only scheduled to work one shift that week. That was really handy because I was supposed to babysit my 7 year old niece visiting from Birmingham, and I had already planned out the whole weekend with her.
Thursday came with no further incidents with the mouth-wide-open bitch. My girlfriend had finally calmed down. She left back to Amsterdam that morning and in a good mood. Life was getting back on track.
My shift that day was 6-10pm in front of St. James Palace. There are usually two of us working there, but for some reason, I was scheduled to work alone from 9-10. Here’s how the spot where I worked looks. The little wooden post is where we’d stand in case of a storm. “Ok, buddy, hang in there, almost done,” my fellow guard said at 9:02 pm, as he marched back inside.
“One more hour. One last hour of this damn job and I am free. God, it feels good…” I thought as I stood still in front of my post. Night was unusually quiet, but it was starting to rain, so I guess it was to be expected. 9:30pm. Still light rain, still boring as ****. Almost there. 9:45pm. Rain was picking up, so I decided to spend my last few minutes in the post.
I turned around.
I shouldn’t have.
There she was.
If I were a writer, I’d use all these descriptive tools to paint a picture of how horrifying that woman looked that night. Let me tell you, this was the single most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a child getting killed by a land mine.
The woman was standing at the door of the post. She wore a white dress that was nearly shining in the dark. But her face, **** man, her face. She wasn’t looking at me, which somehow made it even ****ing worst. She was looking at the sky or whatever the hell was up there, and her eyes went so far up I could only see bottom of her pupils. Her mouth was so wide open, I was now nearly sure it wasn’t possible for a human to do this.
There is something surreal about standing in front of someone who doesn’t act rationally. Like, if you’re getting mugged, you know they want your money. ****, if you’re getting shot at, you know they want to kill you. But the true mental horror is in not knowing what in the **** she wanted from me.
9:49. Ok, 11 minutes of this and I can finally…
She took a step towards me. Then another one. At about two feet from me, she stopped.
She started leaning. That ****ing lean. Her face stopped just short of mine. At first her head started shaking slowly, but started to move increasingly fast. It was a small kind of shaking, as I said before, kinda like when you get out of the shower into an air-conditioned room and start shaking. The pupils were so high up, I could barely see them. Her head was now trembling so fast I was wondering how it was possible. And that mouth, man, that mouth was so unnaturally, un-****ing-humanly open. I swear I saw corners of her lips starting to bleed because her skin wasn’t able to support the opening.
No sound.
The street was silent, probably the most silent I’ve ever seen it. And the worst part is, it was night time. I know I do this a lot, but just imagine it one more time – you’re standing motionlessly in the middle of the street, and there is this bleeding-wide-open mouth woman an inch from your face, doing whatever the **** she’s doing, and not a soul in sight. And no sound, whatsoever.
9:54pm.
Come the **** on.
And then, as if she heard my thought, her pupils dropped back and looked straight at me. I nearly jumped back. She closed her mouth, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d rather she kept it open. Her jaw started rapidly opening and closing, as if she were biting something invisible. Her teeth were hitting each other so hard, I was sure they’d break.
That was it for me, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I took a step back and screamed “JUST ****ING STOP ALREADY!”
And she did. Teeth stopped clenching, mouth closed, and she stood back up from the leaning. She took a step towards me and, for the first time ever, smiled.
“4, 3, 2, 1, 4, 3, 2, 1, 4 ,3 ,2 ,1” she started whispering, never losing the smile.
“What is that, what the **** is that?” I begged. I was ready to grab her, shake, her, anything, just for an answer. What the **** did she want from me, right?
9:58pm.
“What the ****!” came from behind me.
My commander.
He ran up to me, disregarding the crazy bitch in front.
“Did you talk to her?”
“I…”
“DID YOU ****ING TALK TO HER?” he yelled, louder and while grabbing my uniform. He didn’t even pay attention to the woman.
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ… What number?” he said while finally letting me out of his fists.
“Sir?” I answered confused as you can imagine.
“What was the last number she said? What was it? Was it a zero?”
“No, I think she stopped at a 1… But why…?”
All this time, the woman just stood still and looked at us with a smile. Then, she took a step towards us. She slowly walked in between my commander and me.
“Don’t say a thing to her, not a ****ing thing,” the commander said with obvious fear on his face.
The woman turned from me and towards him. She got into his face, and even from behind, I could see her mouth being wide open.
“Go, just go,” the commander said as he looked at me. He was avoiding acknowledging her. I heard her teeth clenching.
“I can’t just leave you,” I said.
“Go, and don’t come back here. I’ll take care of this.”
You know, I like to think of myself as brave, but at that moment, all I wanted to do is leave. I hope you can’t blame me for that. So I started running away.
“And never talk to her again!” the commander yelled as I got away.
Now, I know a lot this stuff sounds like ********, and you’re right, it really does. Sure, looking back at it now, I could’ve arrested her, hell I could’ve even killed the bitch, and so could’ve the commander. But you know what? When you find yourself in a situation as impossible and as unreal as that one, you don’t act rationally, you don’t think logically as you would in a normal situation. I went home, took a cold shower (after making sure my doors were locked) and I collapsed on the bed.
In the morning I texted my shift buddy to see if commander was ok and his “Yeah, why wouldn’t he be?” text back meant he made it. That’s all I needed to know, I was out of that life.
My niece came in town on Friday and I had her for the weekend. Running around a seven year old will make you lose your mind, let alone leave time to think about some crazy woman harassing you. Besides, I was done with that job – that morning I got transfer papers.
I spent the whole day taking the kid different places she liked. **** was exhausting. Saturday morning I made us some breakfast as we watched cartoons for the good part of it. Then we put in a Catwoman movie and my niece dressed as her – she loved her for some reason (movie was a complete trash). I guess I wasn’t used to having to take care of the kids because I fell asleep on the couch, already exhausted.
My niece woke me up.
“Uki,” she said, that’s what she calls me, “Uki, let’s play.” She was holding my old pair of walkie-talkies. I used to love those as a kid, so I couldn’t say no to her.
“Sure, let’s see if these old things work. Go outside of the house, I want to check the range on these babies.”
Her face lit up as she ran out.
I turned the walkie-talkie on and started playing with it. Static noise was there, meaning the batteries worked, it was only a matter of finding the right frequency.
“Ashley? Ashley, do you copy, over?” I tried a few times.
I finally heard something.
“Ashley, do you copy, I repeat, do you copy, over?”
“Hero” was all I heard at a low volume.
“Ashely, you punk, you need to say over when you’re done.”
“H…e..ro” I heard again.
“This damn thing,” I thought. Too lazy to go out, I took the batteries out, blew at them, as if that ever does anything, and put them back in.
“Ok, Catwoman hero, do you copy now, over?”
“ZERO”
I dropped the walkie-talkie.
That wasn’t Ashley’s voice. That wasn’t “Hero” I thought I heard.
Ashley.
I ran outside and immediately started ****ing hating myself for letting the child go out on its own. Ashley stood in the yard, holding a radio, squeezing it hard. In front of her stood that same woman, bent over and all the way down to my kid’s face.
“Zero, zero, zero, zero, zero” was what woman frantically repeated in Ashley’s traumatized face.
Yeah, when some freak harasses me, I can control myself. But a child, my cousin?
I lost it. I ran towards the woman and tackled her with enough force I was sure I’d hurt her. As soon as I hit the ground, I got up and grabbed Ashley. “Are you alright?” I yelled, “Did she touch you?!” I didn’t even realize how hard I was shaking her, probably scaring her even more.
Ashely was now crying so hard, she couldn’t even answer.
“Let’s go in,” I said as I turned towards the woman. She was still lying on the ground, facing down.
As soon as we got into the house, we went to the window. The woman started standing up. She turned towards us.
“I’m calling the police,” I told terrified Ashely as I picked up my cell. “Don’t worry baby, it’s going to be alright.”
The woman took a step towards the window. Then another one. Her nose was bleeding and she was visibly hurt as she was limping, but it didn’t seem to matter to her.
I’ll admit, I was nearly frozen from the rush of adrenaline I had. We just stood there at the window, watching this freak approaching us.
“Police are on the way,” I told my niece who was still crying.
The woman walked up to the window.
She… She wasn’t looking at me anymore. She leaned towards Ashley’s face. Poor little thing grabbed my hand and was squeezing it way too hard for a 7 year old. That ****ing thing, bitch, woman, whatever she was, leaned all the way to the window. Only a piece of glass was separating her from Ashley. As I was about to take my niece into another room, far from this thing, the woman opened her mouth, but immediately closed it into a smile. Then again. It was ****ing impossibly strange. As she’d open her mouth, her pupils would shoot up towards the back of her head, only to immediately come back followed with a smile. She was now alternating inhumanely fast in between a smile and a gaping mouth paired with nearly pupil-less eyes.
“Let’s get out of here,” I told Ashley as I picked her up and took her to my room.
Police arrived about 15 minutes later. They started scanning the neighborhood and actually caught a woman who matched my description. I was due at the police station for identification, but first I had to drop Ashley off at the train station. Her mum wanted her back immediately after what happened, and I couldn’t blame her. I took her to the station, where I arranged for the staff to watch her until her destination.
A very pleasant conductor promised he’d watch her whole trip. He took Ashley’s hand and promised to show her all the cool parts of the train. Finally, the kid smiled.
As train was getting ready to leave, conductor put my niece on the stairs. “Say bye to your uncle,” he said, “we’re about to leave.”
“Bye Ashley, tell your mum to call me when you arrive, ok?”
She didn’t respond to me, which was understandable. The kid was probably still ****ing terrified, hell, I was still terrified.
As the announcer said all boarding was complete, conductor opened the door for them to get inside the train.
Ashley didn’t move, though. She looked up at the conductor.
“Let’s go now,” he said.
Ashley opened her mouth, looking up at the man.
“We have to get in now, we’re about to start moving honey,” he said again. “Let’s go.”
As he entered the train and Ashely followed, I heard her say “10 9 8.”
I am planning to write about what happened to Ashley at some point, though her family prefers it is kept private.
don't laugh at me but this **** is scary and weird as ****, I love it tho, I imagined myself sitting on the couch being scared to death while she summons satan with that chant she's doing
#9 and #5 
The little wooden post is where we’d stand in case of a storm. “Ok, buddy, hang in there, almost done,” my fellow guard said at 9:02 pm, as he marched back inside.