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Messages - Dr. Killjoy

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Slimy Stories / Re: Slimy Story FAQ
« on: 03:56:53 AM 01/08/16 »
Question about your stories in general, rather than about one in particular: how often, if at all, is your writing inspired by nightmares? Any particular pastas that came from one?

Been a while, but here's a new one!

Stay In Bed

When I was growing up, there was one rule that my brother and I were never to break: don't leave our room after bedtime. Maybe it was the look in Dad's eyes whenever he said it, but I didn't ever try to sneak out.

It was strange, because our parents generally weren't especially strict. They were satisfied with my report cards as long as nothing dropped below a B. I could bring a friend over on relatively short notice. Once in a while, they'd buy me a video game on a trip to the store if I asked nicely.

My brother, however, was older and more inclined to push boundaries than I was. One night, when he was eleven years old and I was thirteen, he shook me awake.

"Hey," he whispered. "I'm gonna watch TV in the living room for a bit. Wanna come?"

I shook my head and mumbled that I didn't want to get in trouble. The living room was just across the hall from our parents' bedroom, and if one of them woke up, slipping away would involve crossing the kitchen and the dining room undetected.

He didn't press the issue; he just crept to the door, his figure barely visible in the dark room. He turned the knob, pulled the door open, and shut it behind him.

It felt strange, being alone in that room at night. I sat up in my bed and, for a minute, I just stared at nothing in particular. A glance at the clock told me it was 1 in the morning. There wasn't much to see, except a slit of moonlight crossing the floor and the red numbers of the alarm clock on the nightstand between our beds.

I flopped back into bed and tried to go to sleep, but I kept wondering when my brother would return and if he'd have two angry parents with him when he did. I knew they wouldn't be mad at me, but I was sure there would be shouting and anger, and those made me cringe even when they weren't directed at me.

My brother crept back in about twenty minutes later, closing the door behind him rather quickly and practically throwing himself into bed.

"Dad got up," he whispered to me, yanking the covers over himself. "Don't think he saw me, though."

"You're not gonna try again, are you?" I asked. "What if he caught you?"

He shook his head. "I don't know what he's doing. It'd be too hard to sneak past him."

Just then, we heard our parents' car start up. My brother leapt off his bed and pulled aside the window blinds, mumbling "the hell is he doing?" I crept over to join him, pushing at him so I could get a view. Being younger and smaller, I didn't have much luck, but I saw enough to watch it drive off into the night.

"Did someone steal the car?" I asked, voice trembling.

"No, I'm pretty sure that was Dad. Don't know where he's going in the middle of the night, though."

"Think we should tell Mom?"

"Not a chance. I get the feeling this is why they don't want us leaving our room. I want to find out what the hell's going on, though. I'm waiting 'til he gets back."

I nodded. "Oh, okay. I think I'll stay up too, then."

That was my plan, anyway. Time passes slowly when you're waiting in suspense, especially as a kid. I grabbed my Game Boy and the flashlight in our room in an attempt to distract myself with Centipede, but gave up after losing all of my lives. My lethargic, distracted movements hadn't kept me alive for long.

With a quiet groan, I got back to bed and lay awake for a while. I figured if I couldn't do anything but wait, I might as well be comfortable while I did so.

I must have been starting to drift off, because my brother's hand on my shoulder made me jerk.

"He's back," he said. "Just pulled in the driveway. I'm going to the kitchen to get a better look."

Without waiting for my reply, my brother cracked open the door and slid out of the room. I started to follow him, but hesitated when my feet hit the floor. For a moment, I stared at the door, arms wrapped around myself. It wasn't long, though, before curiosity my won out and I was slipping through the doorway.

The kitchen wasn't as close to our parents' room as the living room was, but it was still uncomfortably so. Luckily the window was near the dining room, such that if we heard the door of our parents' room open, we'd be able to sneak back to our room before they could see it. That was what gave me the courage to lean over the sink and peer out of the window with my brother.

Dad was hefting a bulging black garbage bag over his shoulder, hunched over, walking across the yard at an uneven pace. He grunted and the bag swayed with every step, his face contorted with effort. After a few moments he disappeared from view, and my brother motioned me towards the water heater closet in the hallway.

It was uncomfortably close to our parents' room, and I wanted to protest, but I was too afraid of being overheard. At any rate, our father would soon be entering the house through the living room and cutting us off from our bedroom.

When I realized we were trapped, my breath caught in my throat. For a moment I just stood there, wishing I could be back in my bed and certain that anything I tried would fail. Ahead I saw my brother, now in the closet, frantically waving his arm for me to go in with him. I moved toward him as though he were a lone candle in a sea of darkness.

Seconds after I got in and he shut the door, the kitchen light came on, and my nose was assaulted by an odor that would be forever burned into my mind. It was the smell of decaying flesh, of rotting tissue left to the mercies of flies and rats, of things buried that never should have seen the light of day again.

I squinted as I struggled to look through the angled wooden slats of the closet door, and by pressing my back against a pipe, I was able to see a small part of the kitchen. My brother leaned uncomfortably on my shoulder.

With a soft thud, the garbage bag dropped to the kitchen floor. Dad wasn't visible, but I heard him let out a sigh. A moment later, he walked into view wearing heavy work gloves and carrying crowbar, then knelt down. He started working with the crowbar, but we couldn't see exactly what he was doing because his back was facing us. After a few seconds, we caught a glimpse of one of the ceramic kitchen tiles as he pushed it aside. Frowning, he set down the crowbar and pulled open the bag. The awful odor became overpowering, and I had to choke back a cough. As quietly as I could, I pulled my shirt over my nose.

My father stuck his arm into the bag and pulled out something small, furry, and limp. He dropped it unceremoniously into the hole, and my blood ran cold as I heard a wet sucking sound from the pit. It was so deep that I could feel the floor vibrate beneath me, and I put my hands over my ears. This caused my shirt to slip off of my face, exposing me to the full force of that awful smell again. Gradually, though, the sound died down. The stench, unfortunately, stayed.

One by one, my father took the other animals from the bag and dumped them into the pit. Each time one fell, the sucking sound returned. All I could do was sit there, my back hurting from the pipe jabbing into it, my teeth gritting from the guttural slurping, and every breath of decay making my eyes water. Between all of this, the large bulk of the bag, and the animals being small ones such as squirrels and raccoons, the whole thing dragged out excruciatingly.

I took occasional glances at my brother. From the thin lines of light between the slats, I could see that his face was wrinkled in disgust. It didn't really register at the time, but he wasn't looking at the pit or at the animals when I saw him. He was looking at our father.

At long last, our father stood up and wadded up the trash bag. I slowly let out a breath. He slid the kitchen tile back into place, picked up the crowbar, and walked out of view. A few seconds later, we heard the front door open again.

"Alright, listen. I'm gonna open the door. When I do, you head for our room. Walk fast, but don't run," my brother whispered to me.

I didn't want to go back to our room. I wanted to run out of the house and never look back. At some point I must have started crying, because I felt tears running down my cheeks. As much as I hated to admit it, though, my brother had the right idea. If I ran out of the house, what would Dad do when he caught me? Feed me to that thing? I nodded mechanically before realizing something missing from my brother's instructions.

"What about you?" I asked.

"I want to see what's down there."

"That thing could kill you!"

My brother shook his head. "I won't take long. If you want to look with me, fine. Choose quick, because I'm opening the door now."

He pushed the door open, glanced towards our parent's room, and crept into the kitchen. I stayed rooted to the spot by fear. When he knelt down and began to slowly pry the tile out of the floor, I didn't know whether to look or to shut my eyes. What decided it was that I was too afraid to be anywhere alone right now, even in the relative safety of our room.

Almost as soon as he'd lifted it, my brother dropped the tile and fell backwards. It clattered to the ground and my brother scooted backwards several feet before looking at me, face pale. I was so shocked that I'd barely registered that the rotting smell had returned.

"Back to our room. Now."

Without waiting for me to reply, he leapt to his feet and ran. I started to run after him, remembering just in time to shut the closet door. That was when I saw it.

In the hole was a circle of long, white teeth, laying level against the ground. Slick and shining, they emerged from an angry red, swollen ring of flesh. Every few seconds, the teeth would raise and lower rhythmically, accompanied by a sound like a low, heavy gust of wind.

I ran back to our room, literally ran, not even thinking about getting caught at this point. I nearly slammed the door shut behind me when I got there, and I buried myself under the covers like a turtle hiding in its shell. And on that night, I swore I would never, ever leave my room again during the night until the day I moved out.

Slimy Stories / Re: 123 Safety Street
« on: 01:43:53 PM 11/11/14 »
Always love your video game pastas. Having read your stories, you've got a really good knack for giving an uncanny, vaguely wrong feeling in your works, and that's what keeps me coming back.

Thanks for the suggestions, and glad you liked the pasta :)

Listened to some more of these :)

You really have a talent for adding believable personal details to the protagonist's life that make your stories seem more real. Also like how you give the listener just enough information to figure out what's going on, so the reveal of the horror isn't bogged down by hand-holding or redundancy.

General Discussion / Re: Oh goodness Neon can write
« on: 07:31:54 PM 03/12/14 »
I had an easy enough time following what was going on, but somehow the leadup to the reveal doesn't really build up steam like it should. My reaction was less "Oh, shit, they're chopping up people for their organs" and more "Okay, is 'spare parts' a euphemism for organs? Might be, it sounds like that's what it is, and... yeah, uh-huh, that's what it is."

I think it would help if you focused on economizing your dialogue a bit more. Every time you switch speakers requires a line break, and this means the reader will be pausing frequently and processing the story more slowly than they otherwise would. That probably has a lot to do with my "Huh, is it? Is it? Is he gonna tell... yep." feeling as I read the story. For example, you could condense
“Well, we gotta keep in business.”

“Guess so.”

“Saw Derek on his way out.”
into this:
“Well, we gotta keep in business. Anyway, saw Derek on his way out.”

That, and I think it would be best to end the story on “Yeah, boss burns through them with all his drinking. Needs a new one every week.” Reading that line was enough for me to figure out what "spare parts" meant (and thus what was going to happen to poor Derek), and omitting the last four lines would end the story on a strong note that leaves the reader with everything they need to know.

Thanks again to everyone who replied, and I'm sorry that it's taken so long for me to get a new story out. I'd been feeling kind of drained and uncreative for awhile, but I'm writing again now. Dead Palette, I did some editing for my first story and I've gone with some of the suggestions you'd given.

This next story is a video game creepypasta. It's something that a lot of writers have tried and failed, and as someone who's loved games since he was a kid, I wanted to see if I could do it right.


Last week, I finally finished a game I'd struggled with for as long as I could remember, an SNES title called "Conplus." I always liked the feeling of winning a game that had been frustrating me since childhood, but Conplus in particular was something I wanted to see through for multiple reasons: first, with a copyright date of 1998, it had to have been one of the last games released for the console. Second, there was a tiny glass bubble on the front of the cartridge that made it stand out from the others. Last, and most importantly, the game had literally no online presence. No fansites, no ROMs, nobody who'd even heard of it. The company that made it, Void Star Inc, was a complete nonentity too. Left with no other options, my only hope to find out anything was to, as the game described it, "complete six challenges."

Now, Conplus was a sort of "variety pack," a dozen small games on a single cartridge. Similar to Action 52, except competently programmed. Each game had a "challenge" to complete, generally something like reaching the end, getting a certain score, or surviving a certain length of time. It varied by game, and you were never told what the challenge was until you'd beaten it. Here are the six that I was able to do:

Dino Run

In this game, you control a young dinosaur and guide it through a maze in an isometric view. Food is scattered across the maze, and you complete a level by eating all of it. To get through the maze and collect all the food, you have to navigate through obstacles and hazards such as hostile creatures, pits, one-way doors, and deep water without running over a time limit. The graphical style is very "cute," reminiscent of Bubble Bobble or the Kirby series. Dino Run has a two-player mode where you try to eat more food than the other player, and me and my friends killed a lot of time on this one when we were young.

The challenge for this game was to clear a hundred levels. There was no save option, and the later mazes were extremely unforgiving, but you could restart from your current level no matter how many times you died. Even setting aside a lot of time in the evening to play it, I had to leave the game running and paused for several nights before I got to the end.

Alchemy Lab

A puzzle game in the vein of Tetris or Dr. Mario. Gears with three teeth fall from the top of the screen, and each tooth has a colored gem. Once a gear lands, it can be rotated, and you clear gears from the screen by having three gems of the same color touch each other to score points. You lose if the gears overflow the top of the screen. This game also supported competitive multiplayer, in which you and another player could interfere with each other by scoring large combos to send useless and difficult-to-remove "rusty gears" down to each other's playfield.

The challenge on this one was to complete the "story" mode, which pitted you against a series of eight AI opponents, on the hardest difficulty. I loved this game as a kid, and its challenge was the only one I'd completed when I was younger.

East vs. West

A turn-based wargame based on the Cold War, circa 1970. The player could choose to play either NATO or the Warsaw Pact in a fight for control of the entire world. No nuclear weapons are allowed (or even mentioned), but aside from that it's fairly realistic, with the player needing to keep units supplied with fuel, food, and ammunition, bad weather hampering operations, radar and scouts needed to spot the enemy, etc. Like the last two games, it has a two-player mode, but the whole thing is so heavily balanced in the Pact's favor that you can't really have a fair match. Maybe Void Star was staffed by bitter Russians.

After losing as NATO over and over, I eventually gave in and won as the Pact, which still counted for reasons I'm not entirely sure of. It kind of defeats the point of being a challenge if you can just cheese your way through it, doesn't it? That said, it still took me a ridiculously long time to complete - 200 turns or so, in fact, most of which was spent throwing waves of troops across the Bering Strait. Fortunately this game had a save function.


A 2D side-scrolling horror/adventure game. Your character is a man clad in a fedora and trench coat, trapped in a desolate building and pursued by a thematically fitting humanoid figure. For example, the first level is a medieval castle, and your attacker is an animated suit of armor; the second is a workshop with a knife-wielding wooden dummy. In each level, your goal is to find a way to destroy the stalker. In the meantime, you have to run and hide in one of various cupboards, closets, etc. whenever it finds you. If you've ever seen the SNES Clock Tower game, it's a lot like that. Based on the man's attire and the style of the cars in the abandoned factory level, I'd say the game probably takes place in the early 20th century.

I didn't play this one much as a kid because it scared me and I couldn't figure out how to progress. I completed the challenge for this one by finishing all four levels. Some of the puzzles were pretty obtuse (I have yet to figure out how "in memoriam, awaken the seer" translates to "set the pocket watch to eight o'clock and put it in the fruit bowl"), and I had to brute force a fair amount of the puzzles along the way, just using every item in my inventory on everything that could be interacted with until I found something that worked.

Into the Silent Forest

This one puts you in the role of a young boy and dumps you in a cabin at the edge of a forest without an introduction or title screen. You wander around the map in a top-down view, making your way through a winding, twisting maze of trees. And that's it; the game never gives you any hint of who your character is supposed to be or what they're trying to accomplish, and I didn't notice any enemies or hazards the entire time I played. The only possible threat I might have seen, and I can't swear to this, is an occasional glimpse of some emaciated, skull-faced creature standing hunched over in one of the trees.

Graphically, it's just as weird; the sprites look like something you'd see on the NES, and the ground is a solid black. There's no music, either. It makes me think it was probably some alpha build that, for some reason, made it into the cartridge. It's completely out-of-place in a collection of otherwise solid and finished games.

My initial assumption was that I had to make it out of the forest. This was after a few hours of walking everywhere, bumping into anything that looked remotely interesting and pressing every button in the hopes that something would happen, occasionally setting the controller down to sketch out a map in my notebook. There were several locations that looked like they should have been important, but weren't. Among these were a wide ring of stakes surrounding a small pile of burnt wood, an abandoned tent containing a rifle and ax, and a gravestone on top of a steep, rocky hill. While none of these had any apparent ingame purpose, they were at least useful as landmarks.

I finally completed the challenge for this one by finding a well and jumping into it. I don't know why that worked, but it did, and kind of sums up why I gave up on it pretty quickly as a kid.

Dark Waters
The last game I completed, and one that scared me badly enough as a kid that I'd only played it once. This one opens with a cutscene showing an overhead view of a motorboat moving to the middle of a small, vibrant blue lake on top of a tall mountain. Then it switches to a close-up view of the boat, which has one man at the engine and another man in scuba gear sitting at the edge. The man at the engine gives the diver a thumbs-up, and the diver drops off the side with a splash.

The game itself is simple. You are deep within the lake — so deep that all you can see (aside from your character) is darkness. You view the diver from behind as he swims forward, and you can have him move left, down, up, and right as he goes. For about a minute, nothing happens. All there is to do is listen to the music, an uneven drumbeat with a pitch almost too low to hear.

That's when you see the shadow in the distance, which very quickly grows into a roaring mouth full of razor-sharp teeth that takes up about half the screen.

And that's Dark Waters. Sit there, wait for one of those creatures to show up, and as soon as you can see which part of the screen it's coming from, try to pull off a split-second dodge. Even after the first, they still come infrequently, but gradually the time between attacks drops until you're constantly dodging them. Worse, you can't pause the game (which, incidentally, means you can't go back to the main menu). You either sit there and do it perfectly for however long it takes, or you have to start all over.

I completed the challenge on this one by surviving for one hour, but it felt like a lot longer than that. I was actually shaking by the end of it, hissing a choice swear word every time one of the monsters came too close for comfort.

Once I finished the challenge for Dark Waters, the game showed a congratulatory message against a starry night background. Colorful, pixelated fireworks flashed and popped across the screen, and I sat there to admire them for a moment before I looked closely at a line of orange text at the bottom.


I did so, but I wasn't prepared for what I saw next.

It was an image of me, in my bedroom when I was younger, rendered in the best detail an SNES was capable of. My younger self sporting a goofy grin, sitting on a tan-carpeted floor and back against a bed, holding a controller while sunlight bled around a shadow in the curtains. Judging by how young I looked in the picture, it was quite possible it was from one of the first times (if not the first) time I'd ever played the game, and judging by the angle, it looked like the picture had been taken from the console itself.

I'll admit, I jumped when I realized what I was looking at. Once I'd calmed down, I scooted over to my entertainment center and looked over the console. Then my eye was drawn to the strange glass bubble in the cartridge, and it all made sense.

That was the camera. The manufacturer had put it in there, it took a picture at some point while I was playing, and saved it to show it to me when I earned the right to see it. It made sense. If they could put a camera in a Game Boy cartridge, why not in a Super Nintendo one?

I laughed. It was a neat idea. Getting back to where I'd been sitting, I took one last chance to marvel at the bit of the technical wizardry, but when I did, that was the moment I decided I never wanted anything to do with this game again.

You see, what I'd taken to be a shadow on one of the curtains wasn't really a shadow at all. It was the outline of an emaciated, skull-faced creature.

Also posted to SomeOrdinaryGamers and r/nosleep under the username "StarmanGhost."

So far I've only listened to the Easter Egg one. It doesn't even really feel like a creepypasta at first, and that's why the last line is so effective. Comes out of nowhere, hits like a sledgehammer, and leaves you with so many questions. Nicely done :)

Will listen to the rest later.

This is EXACTLY the sort of story I love dude!
Almost more of a mysterious pasta.

Absolutely love it.

Do you have more somewhere else or is this the very first?
I'm glad you enjoyed it, but I'm afraid that as of now, the above is the only creepypasta I've written. I'll post more here as soon as I complete them, though.

Hey guys, new pasta writer here wanting to share his work. Feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Story index:

Inclement Weather
Stay In Bed

Inclement Weather

I had a long drive ahead, and I was tired.

I'd been on the road for the past twelve hours, and the current leg of my lengthy journey put me on a dead backroad of Iowa. It was three in the morning, and the endless miles of corn and soy fields, farmhouses, prairies, and depressed, decaying towns that make up rural Iowa had all started blurring together, as had the songs coming from the rock station I'd been listening to. The result was that the last several hours had come and gone in a haze of asphalt, guitar riffs, and the occasional lonely tree or road sign. On either side beyond the road, scraggly blades of grass cast long shadows in my car's headlights.

It was a long trip to visit my parents for the 4th of July, so when I started out, I thought I'd save myself some money by driving straight through the night rather than stopping at a hotel. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and it had stayed that way until I found my head coming down to rest on the steering wheel. Now I was giving serious thought to pulling over to the side of the road and just taking a nap in my little blue Honda Civic. I didn't think I'd sleep well, though. I'd probably still be tired when I got up. I figured it was best to keep going and get it over with.

Then, at some time I can't pinpoint, my radio's signal slowly but steadily degraded to static. The station I'd been listening to for the past few hours was dead. I tried another one I liked. Dead. After a few more unsuccessful attempts to find a station, I flipped to the AM band and tried the same. No signal. My annoyance turned to unease when I pushed the seek button and it ran the entire AM and FM bands without finding anything.

Seeing my hand tremble a bit, I took a breath and muted the radio. The lack of sleep was getting to me. There wasn't any sense in getting myself worked up over the lack of a signal; most likely, some circuit had failed or the antenna had gotten misaligned somehow. It'd mean a trip to the mechanic at worst.

I jerked my head up, realizing I'd been staring at the radio's LCD display. I had to stay focused on the road, to keep looking ahead. The last thing I wanted was to end up hitting a squirrel or driving into a ditch. Just a couple more hours, I told myself. You've already done most of the work.

When I first saw the lights, I thought the lack of sleep was causing me to hallucinate. They hovered in the sky, round, the size of the moon, and they blinked in and out like someone was turning a massive flashlight on and off in space. It was a bright, eye-searing yellow, and it made my head hurt. I pulled over to the side of the road to rub my eyes.

That was when I realized that the lights didn't move when I turned my head. They weren't tricks of my eyes. They were coming from above, caused by... what? Aside from the impossibility of being there, they weren't behaving like normal lights; the area didn't become any more brightly lit when they blinked on.

I shook my head again before continuing to drive, perhaps a bit faster than was wise in my sleep-deprived state. The unnatural and inexplicable appearance of the lights made me feel uneasy, though. Out here, alone in my car, I felt very exposed to whatever they were preceding.

It was a few minutes before I found out what that was. It began with a low, steady whistling sound, and at first, I had thought it was just the wind picking up. Then I noticed that none of the grass or wheat was swaying at all; despite the sound, the air was still. I pulled over to the side of the road and shut off the engine to try to figure out what it was and where it was coming from; as unsafe as I felt being out there with whatever was causing the noise, I felt even less safe trying to drive while it was happening. Not wanting to remove what small, flimsy barrier was between me and whatever was out there, I decided against rolling the window down.

The whistling, which seemed to come from everywhere at once, gradually got louder, and louder, and louder, and meanwhile, its pitch began to drop. Soon, it was a roar that sounded unbearable even inside my car, and I put my hands over my ears, hunching over, shutting my eyes, desperately hoping that the awful noise would go away. What was most disturbing, though, was that it seemed to be coming from everywhere above me at once, as if the sky itself were screaming.

Then suddenly, I couldn't hear anything. I reluctantly uncovered my ears, but the noise was gone, cut short as quickly as if someone had paused a recording. It was at this point that I realized that, somewhere along the line, I'd begun holding my breath. Taking in enough air to breathe a sigh of relief, I undid my seatbelt and began looking around the car for a CD to put in the player. Having something to listen to with the radio down would calm my nerves. I didn't really expect to find one, but I didn't want to get back onto the road yet, so this would kill time until I worked up the nerve to start driving again.

That never happened. Not a second after I put my hand on the key to turn it, the patterns appeared in the sky. They were rippling bands of harsh neon colors, fading in and out, twisting around dark holes left in the night sky like fluid swirling in drains. Almost as soon as they had appeared, they were everywhere at once, smothering the entire sky in a purple-yellow soup.

Even worse was the noise. This wasn't the deafening whistling and roaring from before -- that would've been welcome by comparison. The best I can describe this one, is it sounded like hundreds of people were wrapped up in every one of those spaghetti-strands in the sky, and they were all shouting at once in hoarse, nasally voices.

I remember gasping at this point. I think I might've screamed. I'm not ashamed to say that I dove down onto the floor of the backseat at this point and clamped my hands over my ears again. Any wound my pride might have suffered was an afterthought compared to the need to shut out whatever this thing was as fast as possible.

In spite of my better judgment, morbid curiosity won out a few times as I lay there, and I took began to sneak terrified glances out the windows. I wasn't at a good angle to see anything, but given what I was looking at, that wasn't terribly disappointing and I certainly wasn't going to do anything to change it.

The only thing I can remember clearly seeing was a group of weird purple "bulges" dropping down from the sky, growing longer and longer until (I think, I can't be sure) they were reaching the ground. They slid back and forth like giant fingers, and once one of them passed within feet of the car. When that happened, I definitely screamed, but it was drowned out by the screams coming from the sky.

I lay there, curled up, hands over my head as if bracing for a tornado, just wishing it would end, dreading every second that some thing would shatter a window or rip off a door, exposing me to the full fury of whatever event I'd had the misfortune to be caught in. Minute after minute trickled by, without any sort of pause or gap in the noise from above. I can't say anything about the sights, because after I saw the "fingers," I didn't want to look out the window again.

Finally, there was silence. At first I just sighed and relaxed in relief, feeling that maybe the worst of it was over. Slowly, shaking, I craned my neck so that I could look up, not willing to leave my relative safety, and looked out the window in the hope of seeing a calm night sky.

What I saw instead was even better; the sky was a pale blue, the first signs of daylight. At long last gaining the courage to sit up, I saw out of my rear window the brilliant orange of the rising sun. Somehow, on some gut level, I knew that I was safe now. Whatever phenomenon I had been through was too weird and too disturbing to show up in broad daylight.

It was hard climbing into the front seat. Laying there curled up and tense for several hours had left my muscles stiff and sore, and before I'd even pulled myself into the seat, I'd decided that I was definitely having a nap before I finished my journey. I started the car just long enough to see if the radio was working again, and I could finally relax completely when the sounds of a DJ talking came through my car's speakers. Satisfied that all was well, I reclined the seat and settled in for sleep.

In the end, I wasn't killed or even injured, and I can't even say for sure whether I was in any real physical danger, but to this day I still can't explain what happened that night. I don't think I ever will. I certainly don't drive at night anymore if I can help it.

Slimy Stories / Re: Gorbs
« on: 11:59:04 PM 10/30/13 »
As I got towards the end, the Katamari Damacy theme started playing in my head. :P

Slimy Stories / Re: You and Me
« on: 06:45:45 PM 10/24/13 »
An interesting idea, but I think it would've been better if it had ended at "now it's just you and me." Would really hit the "oh shit" factor :lookaround:

Slimy Stories / Re: Don't Pet the Dog
« on: 07:39:40 PM 09/08/13 »
I'm actually a bit confused by this. Does the serial killer transform into a dog somehow, and lives at the house, and that's why they say he's a bad dog? And the graves in the yard actually contain his victims?

The Shitty Stories / Re: Super XX Phantom Fight
« on: 06:56:18 PM 08/15/13 »
You know, I actually wouldn't mind a Japanese guy giving dramatic voiceovers to all the nonsense that happens in my life. I could do without the bucket-headed assassin, though.

Slimy Stories / Re: Or Else What
« on: 03:21:36 PM 08/12/13 »
I really liked this story, but you had some rather distracting typos, ex. "I saw now obvious signs of anything wrong" and "sheer pajamas." Probably best to take a closer look at it.

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