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      "body": "![](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmciVMURPqkqHYd5aBptpo9et8MapEfRmwF1ayqD4pqxna/image.png)\n\nHave you ever wondered what it would be like to play God?\n\nSome questions should stay unanswered.\n\nWe selected seven individuals for the study. My colleague found it important to have a radical mixture of gender and sexual orientation. Discrete cameras were set up throughout the participants' home and places of business. We instructed the subjects to proceed with their daily activities, normally, as if nothing had changed.\n\nWe then told our people a white lie.\n\nWe told them that a team of scientists would be working to alter their lives.\n\nAllegedly, this group analyzed the recordings and applied subtle changes to the subject's real-time routines. Each modification would be would be designed to improve personal productivity and overall contentment. We told subjects that they should not notice any differences, whatsoever. It could be as simple as a passerby saying hi. We also forbid all contact with us during this time.\n\nThe reality was that we did nothing.\n\nWe just watched.\n\nIn the interest of avoiding the ire of recent legal proceedings... I will avoid using last names.\n\nI worked with a respected Sociologist; named Thomas, or Tommy, for short. Tom's prestige in the industry secured our funding in the first place. I considered myself the intern. My job entailed ordering pizza, bringing coffee, and answering phones. Sometimes, Thomas allowed me to watch the cameras while he slept or left the building. Not a bad gig for a twenty-three year old kid with a sociology degree.\n\nThat changed soon after it started. My hatred for my job started when our first subject, Michael, began to behave erratically.\n\nThe biography listed him as Subject001, a straight white male, age twenty-eight. He stood at six feet three inches. He weighed one hundred and ninety pounds. He had dark brown hair, with a blemish on the upper right corner of his eyebrow. Mike did not have a girlfriend at the time. Thankfully, Tom considered that factor.\n\nIt did not take long for things to go haywire. On the second day of record-keeping... I caught Mike talking to himself in the middle of the night.\n\n\"I don't want to do it. I don't want to do it. Are you sure? I don't want to do it.\"\n\nThe noise nearly caused me to fall off my chair. The rest of the day had been silent. I checked the cameras twice, but found no one else there. Thomas had left the building on another one of his errands. I texted him an alert just as Michael jumped out of bed on the infrared and walked to his door.\n\n\"Camera three. 001 is losing his marbles.\"\n\nTommy walked into our makeshift laboratory a couple minutes later. He wore a look of guarded excitement and and undersized white coat that barely covered his overstuffed belly. Crumbs on his jacket suggested that snacking had caused him to slack off next door. Yet again. Tom looked fascinated when he saw the screen. He watched the monitor over my shoulder like a parrot.\n\nMichael banged his head against the wall. My colleague sounded downright giddy when he exclaimed -\n\n\"It's happening. Record this, kid.\"\n\nI did not know what 'it' meant. But I followed orders. After about twenty head bangs, Michael stopped moving. We waited and watched for ten minutes. We checked his vitals. Somehow, Michael was not injured.\n\nHe only fell asleep.\n\nStanding up.\n\nIt is an eerie feeling to watch a man on the verge of losing his mind. The curtains in his apartment fluttered nervously in the wind. Every few hours; Michael roused himself from sleep and checked the window nervously, then returned to his perch by the bedroom door. He repeated this trend a few times throughout the night. He didn't get back in bed all evening.\n\nThe next day, Michael got a promotion.\n\nWe had nothing to do with it.\n\nWe watched the whole thing from a hidden cubicle camera. Michael's boss sounded truly grateful. She considered Michael's job performance to be worthy of recognition. To boot - the firm had been particularly successful that quarter. That meant a big bonus. The shit-eating grin on Michael's face told us that he considered the experiment to be responsible.\n\nOur subject got very drunk that night.\n\nWe did not capture the bar in our video feed. I did, however, catch his walk of shame home sometime around two in the morning. I adjusted the audio and found the guy talking to himself once again.\n\n\"I don't want to do it. I don't want to do it. Are you sure? I don't want to do it.\"\n\nMichael walked into the apartment and flicked a light switch. The room remained quiet and empty. He repeated his favorite little phrase over and over again. He futzed around the living room in an apparent panic.\n\n\"I don't want to do it. I don't want to do it. Are you sure? I don't want to do it.\"\n\nIt annoyed me. To be honest - I started to doubt my colleague. Unstable subjects tend to skew results. I had not consider the more dire consequences at the time.\n\n\"Who is he talking to?\" I asked. Tom didn't answer.\n\nMichael walked towards into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water from the fridge. His movement seemed extremely erratic. The overall behavior reminded me of an animal with rabies, especially the way one leg dragged behind the other.\n\nSuddenly, as if hearing something, Michael stopped and stared out the kitchen window. Water spilled all over the floor. Michael stayed in that position for five minutes.\n\nThen, he offered one last line in the direction of the kitchen door.\n\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\nThen he sprinted outside without another word.\n\n\"Switch to camera four,\" Tommy barked over my shoulder.\n\nI did as I was told. I swear... that's it. The memory of this still keeps me up at night.\n\nMichael's drunken shape came back into focus on the green grass of the apartment complex. The receiver taped to his chest captured rapid breathe as his haphazard footsteps traced a path that led in only one direction. Headlights and horns blasted only fifty feet away.\n\nThe freeway.\n\n\"Tom... this is a problem. This is a big fucking problem.\"\n\nI must have repeated that phrase a thousand times. But my pleas were ignored by my wide-eyed companion. I grabbed the office phone and quickly tried to find an emergency contact. All the while, Michael teetered in between traffic carelessly like a missing toddler.\n\n\"There's nothing we can do,\" Tom muttered. \"What do you want me to say?\"\n\nMichael's body exploded the moment it met the tractor trailer.\n\nHe died that day.\n\nOur benefactor compensated the family handsomely. Litigation was temporarily avoided. The God Experiment continued with the remaining subjects, uninterrupted, for five weeks.\n\nAuthor: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/9bcw94/i_am_a_sociologist_who_participated_in_the_god/\nImage: https://www.wallpaperup.com/228595/Chamber_Experiment_room_ruins_steampunk.html",
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      "body": "![](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQma3DG7WXD2UZEsD8PPgY3LQeEcTQanJEso4xSWNwBYSwF/image.png)\n\nWhen I was a boy I travelled with my parents to visit family quite often and we always used to stop over night at this hotel on the way. One time when visiting family aged about eight, the hotel we normally stayed at was all booked up so instead we stayed at a place called The Stag Inn. There were no family rooms available so I got a single next to my parents room.\n\nThe Stag Inn, like most inns was just your average old English pub with a few rooms to stay in. It was friendly, cosy and quite old fashioned. The evening we spent in the Inn was perfectly normal but the night I spent there traumatised me as a child.\n\nThe room I stayed in had a painting on the wall opposite from the bed. It was a Georgian painting of a serious looking man wearing a waistcoat and a cravat. There was nothing special about the painting and I lost interest in it only seconds after I noticed it.\n\nOnce I had finished my meal in the bar I went to bed. I drifted off to sleep quickly and I abruptly woke up later, I’m not sure what time it was. Something felt off. The moon illuminated through the window lighting up the room slightly and I sat up and stared at the wall for a while until my eyes locked with the eyes of the painting, except they weren’t painted.\n\nThe moon gave enough light for me see. The eyes didn’t match with the rest of the painting, they were so lifelike. I kept contact with the eyes, terrified and confused, and eventually I started to think that it was just my imagination. Until they blinked. I threw the duvet over me and buried my head in the pillows, almost crying. I fell asleep not long after.\n\nThe next morning I was awoke by my parents for breakfast. I told them what happened the night before and they told me that it was just my imagination. When I went back to my room to pack and leave, I built up enough courage to inspect the painting. There were no real human eyes peering through and no eye holes left behind, the painting was perfectly intact. Despite all this I was sure that what I saw that night was real and it scared me shitless. For a while I had these horrific nightmares about my experience. I became paranoid and checked my room every night before I went to bed and I was terrified of paintings but then at some point as a teenager, I forgot.\n\nFast forward several years, I had just finished university and was back at home. One evening, while eating dinner with my parents, the Stag Inn was brought up in conversation. This reminded me of my experience there, except now it didn’t scare me, it intrigued me.\n\nI found the location of the Inn and booked the same room as before for one night. It was time to know the truth. I drove up and arrived at the Inn. I checked in and was handed the keys to the room. The room hadn’t changed at all with the painting still hanging in the same place as before and again there was nothing wrong with it. I hadn’t given up though. I searched for a passage way in the wall and then I noticed the cupboard. It was only a couple of feet away from the painting. I’d never thought about it before but it just seemed odd in that place. There was so much more space in the room so why would they put it there? I Looked into the cupboard, it was completely empty, no shelves or coat hangers. I pushed on the back of the cupboard with a feeling of dread creeping over me. It opened.\n\nI walked into a dimly lit box room. It was completely empty. All there was, was a gap in the wall and the back of the painting covering it. I removed the back of the frame carefully and slid out the painting, which revealed another painting, except it had two holes cut out where the eyes were. The frame was at my height and my eyes matched with the holes, it was as if I was meant to look through it.\n\nI peered through, it was night on the other side. The moon light was gleaming through the window. I observed the room until my eyes locked with the eyes of a little boy sitting up on the bed staring back at me in terror. It was me. We kept eye contact for a good few seconds. Then I blinked. My eight year old self hid under the covers and I kept watching, bewildered, trying to process what I was seeing. Then I noticed something. There was a man hiding under the bed. Trembling in fear as he stared back up at me. I widened my eyes at him and he crawled out from under the bed and ran out the room.\n\nI slid the painting back into the frame and entered into the room, it was day time again. The owner came to check the room out, apparently he never knew the room existed. We looked through the painting again and found ourselves staring back into present day.\n\nSo much makes sense to me now that didn’t before, but I still have so many questions which will most probably be left unanswered. How could I see into the past and most of all, who was the man hiding under the bed?\n\nAuthor: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/9ays0z/one_night_someone_watched_me_through_a_painting/\nImage: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/758926974676541829/?lp=true",
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      "body": "http://2.media.dorkly.cvcdn.com/42/12/884c1654f431b98b128db5bb92a53e18.jpg\n\nLook... I'm just a finance guy. I work in the back office. I am not a hero, at all. To be honest, I can barely help my grandmother in the event of a fall. But it is impossible to sit idly by while innocent people could die.\n\nOn an average day, I sit in a dark room and crunch the numbers. Nothing more.\n\nIf your kid eats three hot-dogs at the Carnival, how likely is he to run to the crapper? When he covers an entire stall, and paying customers are unable to breathe at all, how many extra hours will that cost in janitorial duties? If some sad sack Stephen sits on a line too long... how likely is he to leave? Is there something we can do to please him?\n\nYou get the picture. Disney just loves to keep a smile on that face.\n\nMy star has been on the rise recently. At least, I believe that is the reason why my manager pulled me into a secret gathering of the higher-ups, last Monday morning. In the corporate world, we refer to those types of meetings as 'NDA-level'. It is an exclusivity reserved for only the most trustworthy employees. I was excited. At first.\n\nThe board-room was decked out with a massive conference table that stretched nearly from end-to-end. The latest in high comfort rolly chairs were stationed underneath the butts of several old, fat men and women. There was a nice buffet of finger sandwiches and Cokes on a counter-top in the corner. I moved to help myself as the rest of the room stayed quiet. Apparently they had already eaten.\n\n\"Do you like X-Files, Aaron?\"\n\nThe loud voice boomed from the other end of the room just as I finished putting together my plate. I shifted awkwardly and looked around the room. He was talking to me.\n\n\"Sure,\" I replied. He laughed at that.\n\n\"Probably a little before your time. Althought, I hear there was a reboot. Have a seat. My name is Sylvio, but you can call me Sil.\"\n\nHe shook my hand and gestured generously to the open rolly chair by his side. I sat down like a kid at Summer camp while he turned his massively over-sized belly in my direction. The man had a kind and understanding face. I hoped he was about to give me a raise.\n\n\"Disney headquarters has been investing in a little X-Files like project itself,\" Sil said this with a sly grin. It was not welcoming to his sagging jowls and liver-spotted cheeks.\n\n\"Oh, man, did you guys buy the rights?!\" I asked, excitedly. The thought had crossed my mind on many a drunken night.\n\nHe looked offended at my suggestion. An older Asian woman openly laughed from the other end of the table.\n\n\"Mike, are you sure this kid is right?\" she asked my boss. Then it was his turn to look offended.\n\n\"Cool it, Carol. Aaron is the best man for this job,\" Mike said confidently, with a pat on my back. I sipped my soda stupidly.\n\n\"What job?\"\n\nSylvio took a long look at me. He placed his hands in front of his chin, like he was evaluating my entire life worth in a single glance. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, Sil continued.\n\n\"Aaron, what if I told you that some aspects of X-Files were real? What if I told you that the American government had made contact with extra-terrestrial life and were too stubborn to deal with them?\"\n\nI guffawed like an asshole. Sylvio slammed the table. He paused, and recollected himself by methodically unbuttoning the ring to his sleeve. When he spoke again, it was in a soft tone that reflected a very last ounce of patience with my stupidity.\n\n\"What if I told you... that corporate America took over. We have made contact with the beings. We have shared knowledge, and wealth, and culture.\"\n\nSylvio smiled at the rest of his board-members with the love of a mother.\n\n\"We have even created free trade.\"\n\nI slurped at my soda nervously. The entire scene seemed like something of a stupid teen movie. Here I was, an asshole fresh out of college, placed inside the biggest conspiracy since the JFK assassination.\n\n\"I would say... Why the hell am I here?\" I said. It was the only thing that came to my mind. The old folks in the room seemed to like that. A few of them returned to their laptops and typed away furiously.\n\n\"You are here for what you always are, numbers,\" Sil said again. \"We need a way to facilitate the payment we are receiving from the lifeforms. It needs to be hidden from the government. We have settled on...\"\n\nSil scanned scanned the small audience beside us.\n\n\"Black market, folks?\"\n\nCarol spoke up again from the back.\n\n\"It has to be black market, Sil, you know that.\"\n\nSylvio sighed softly and turned back to me.\n\n\"We will not rely on you to make any contacts, obviously, but we do need someone to wash the money. So to speak.\"\n\nHis beady little eyes made him look like a hamster. The only thing I saw inside Sil was an instinct that matched every pair of eyes in that shady board-room. Greed.\n\n\"Can I just keep my old job?\"\n\nSylvio laughed nervously. As did the other board members.\n\n\"Look, we are willing to pay you a lot of money for this gig. We are talking several times your old salary. Mike, here, has vouched for you. He says you are a perfect numbers man. And you have a little interest in the obscure... well, here you go.\"\n\nI shifted uncomfortably.\n\n\"Show him the tape!\" Carol called out from the back.\n\n\"Ah, right, the tape!\" Sylvio stood up so suddenly it made the entire table shake. He shuffled his fat little butt over to a button by the center. Suddenly, the front wall turned into a projection. The footage contained a sequence of several shocking events.\n\nThe first scene of the film opened with a wide-view of your typical day in the Disneyland theme park. The camera appears to be attached to a drone. It flies over a group of children posing for a picture. Then the sky changes and suddenly slips to night. It is only for a moment, but the scenery is suddenly dark as midnight. Sil slipped me another sly look and thumbs up as he turned back to the screen.\n\nThe image changes again.\n\nThe view is on the inside of a Pet Semetary scene somewhere inside our theme park. A small family of four is enjoying the sights, alone, in the rain. There is a quick distortion in the camera that causes it to flicker in and out. When it comes back into focus, the family is lying on the ground motionless. Several small creatures quickly run up and cover their bodies like insects.\n\nThe film cuts unceremoniously.\n\n\"First contact,\" Sil mumbled aloud to no one in particular as he fumbled with the remote.\n\nThe footage started to flick through a sequence of events too quick to track. There was a sharp dressed man in a suit, staring blankly at a man missing half his face. A woman with a baby in her arm waited in an unending elevator ride. A princess waited in a castle for a savior that never arrived.\n\nThe last shot was of a uniformed janitor in the underground locker rooms. He scrubbed endlessly at a stall marked by the lucky number thirteen. A man in a Micky Mouse costume stood over him, as if comically inspecting the job for flaws. The character emphatically pointed out spots in the poor janitor's work, and shook his butt a bit at the camerica, which caused the janitor to scrub harder and faster on command. The whole thing looked like part of a badly choreographed bit. But the camera zoomed when Mickey started to laugh. His whole mouth opened and clothed in perfect rhythm. Rows of bright white teeth stuck out impossibly through the cloth. I don't think it was a man under that costume.\n\nThen, as suddenly as it begun, the footage ended.\n\nThe board members returned to their seats and typed endlessly at their laptops. They seemed uninterested in what happened next. My look of shock and awe had fooled the best poker players in the company.\n\n\"It looks fascinating, I want in,\" I replied with full conviction. I had to make it believable, so I asked one final question.\n\n\"Are people our trade pieces?\"\n\nThe room grew completely silent. No one answered.\n\nSylvio smiled with his horribly sweaty sass. I signed a few papers after that. Shook a few hands. Even Carol seemed to warm up my charm after all was said and done. They told me I could start after the weekend.\n\nWhen I got home, I searched on the Internet for similar cases. I still hoped it was bullshit. But that search led me to the stories that are linked.\n\nThis message is mostly for the authors.\n\nThe truth is that my company, and their cohorts, are luring more innocent victims by the day. The truth is that no one knows where they end up after the trade. The truth is that no guest, or employee, is safe.\n\nI am taking the advice of a previous poster and leaving the country. It will be safer that way.\n\nThe truth is... I don't know what will happen to me on Monday.\n\nAuthor: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/99qeov/i_work_in_the_disneyland_corporate_office_there/\nImage: http://www.dorkly.com/post/75841/banksys-new-art-project-is-a-creepy-abandoned-theme-park",
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      "body": "![](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmcVvdfCsXFmcMcu5h6y2MhqJcuTs1TwGRE9JBTzRiFV8t/image.png)\n\nWhen I was a little boy, I was terribly afraid of monsters. I don't know anymore where this fear came from. It might have been one of those old tales my grandma told me or it was because of a movie or show on TV.\n\nTo this day I have vivid memories of sitting in my wardrobe at night, huddled between stacks of clothes and forgotten toys. I remember peaking outside every once in a while to see if there actually was a monster under my bed. On other nights I'd watch the room's single window, convinced that it was not just tree branches brushing against the glass.\n\nI spent countless nights in the old wardrobe. Many times I sat in there till morning and only crawled back into bed once the sun started to dawn. At other times, my mom found me still inside, deep asleep.\n\nMy parents told me again and again that there were no such things as monsters and nothing bad would happen to me. For an eight-year-old talk like this meant nothing. They are adults. They didn't understand a thing!\n\nOne night I found myself in the wardrobe again. I sat in there, shaking and shivering, telling myself that I was safe and nothing was out there.\n\nAll of a sudden I heard a voice I jumped up in fear and was barely able to cover my mouth before I screamed. At the sound of my reaction, the voice started to giggle. It was a female voice, who told me not be such a scaredy-cat.\n\nI soon learned that the voice belonged to a little girl living next door. She told me she was scared too and was hiding out from a monster in her own wardrobe. She'd heard me come in here countless times but never dared to actually say anything.\n\nWe ended up talking almost the entire night. I learned that her name was Sandra and that she was about my age. We talked about school, about our friends, pets, hobbies, our dreams, and wishes.\n\nOnly when I saw the first ray of sunshine did I tell her I had to go. I crawled back into bed and pretended to be asleep until my mom came into the room to wake me up.\n\nI spent many nights in the wardrobe. Whenever I talked to my new friend, I completely forgot about how scary the night was. Instead, I found myself laughing and giggling, whispering secrets back and forth with her.\n\nWhile I was hiding from the monsters in my imagination, my parents were plagued by their very own demons. As a little kid, I didn't notice my mom's puffy eyes or my dad's taciturn behavior.\n\nOnly when mom told me that she and I would stay at grandma's for a bit did I realize that something was wrong.\n\nIt was a few months later that my parents divorced. After that mom and I moved to a new apartment in a different city.\n\nI never found out who the little girl was and as time passed, I started to forget about her.\n\nIt was a week ago that the memories of those nights with her came back to me.\n\nThat day was the first time I'd returned to my dad's apartment. It was not on a happy occasion. During the past years, my dad's life had taken a turn for the worse. He'd started drinking heavily and one night his body couldn't take it anymore. He collapsed in the middle of his living room.\n\nMom and I were his only relatives so we'd inherit what few belongings he still owned. While mom refused to take anything, I said I wanted to at least have a look at the old apartment.\n\nTwo days after we'd heard out about his death, I found myself in the middle of the shabby and rundown place the apartment had become.\n\nI remembered it as a happy, tidy place, but it had turned into a dump. Empty bottles were everywhere. The carpet was so stained, it had turned from its original color to an undefined brownish-gray.\n\nThere wasn't much furniture. Only the bare minimum was left, everything else was gone. The only thing of interest I found was a picture of a little boy and girl. I found it in a drawer in the living room. Who were those two, I wondered?\n\nAs I trudged through the shambles of my dad's life, I soon found myself in front of my old room.\n\nI smiled as I opened the door. To my surprise, it was still furnished. Sure my things were gone, but my old bed and bookshelf were still there. And so was the old wardrobe. The room was so much smaller now that I was an adult. I almost laughed at how scared I’d been about monsters under the bed or the branches in front of the window.\n\nAt this moment I remembered my nightly talks in the wardrobe.\n\nI couldn't help but open the old door and get inside. As an adult, there was only barely enough room to sit down in there. I leaned back and peaked out through the crack in the door, same as I'd done as a kid.\n\nI wondered what had happened to that little girl and where she was now.\n\n\"I am right here, dummy,\" I heard a high voice.\n\nWhen I jumped this time, I bumped my head against the top of the wardrobe. I cursed in pain.\n\n\"How the-\" I started but was sure I'd imagined things.\n\nThen I heard her voice again.\n\n\"You said it out loud!\"\n\n\"W-what?\"\n\n\"Where I was and what I was doing now.\"\n\n\"No, that's not it. I mean, you are still living here? Even now?\"\n\n\"Yep!\" came an enthusiastic answer. \"What about you? Where have you been? I missed you!\"\n\n\"You remember me? Even now? After all those years?\"\n\n\"Of course! How'd I ever forget you? Remember how you told me about the red bike you wanted? Or how much you liked Jenny Meier?\"\n\nI started to laugh as she told me more and more things from those talks we had so long ago.\n\nRight at this point though I realized something. It had been almost two decades that I'd last talked to her. Her voice was still the same as back then. Still the same high-pitched childish voice. How was this possible? Shouldn't she be a young woman by now?\n\n\"Why is your voice still the same? Shouldn't you be in your mid-twenties by now?\"\n\nAs I said this, she started to sob. When she spoke again, her voice was heavy with sadness.\n\n\"I wish I could leave and grow up like you, but it’s not possible for me anymore.\"\n\n\"What are you-\" I'd started, but then something else hit me.\n\nAs a kid, I'd always assumed she was living in an apartment next door. Why else would someone talk to me, right? I'd forgotten one thing though, there was nothing on the other side. The wardrobe stood against the outer wall of the building.\n\nWhen this realization hit me, I ran from the room, with her sobs echoing behind me.\n\nOnce I was outside, I shivered in fear. I couldn't explain what had happened just now. Neither could I explain, what must have happened all those years ago.\n\nIt was only now that I realized I was still holding the picture of the little boy and girl in my hand.\n\nBack home I asked mom about it. At first, she said she didn't want to talk about anything related to dad. When I kept pressuring her though, she told me what she knew.\n\nThe picture was of dad and his sister. I looked up. I'd never heard that dad had a sister. Mom shrugged, but then she said in a sad voice that she went missing long ago. Dad had still been a little boy back then. Dad's childhood hadn’t been a happy one she said.\n\nHe had grown up in the same apartment we’d live din back then. His father, my grandfather, had been a terrible man, a drunk with a violent temper.\n\nFirst, it had only been insults, but as the years passed, those were replaced by punches.\n\nIt was not seldom that he'd beat his wife, my grandma and went for dad and his sister afterward. It had always been his sister though, mom said, who got the brunt of it.\n\nOne day though, she was gone. The window of the room was wide open and there was no sign of the child. They'd searched for weeks, but no sign of her was ever found.\n\nWhen I heard this, I started shivering. I remembered the little girl I'd been talking too. The little girl who I'd thought had lived on the other side of the wall. The little girl who said she could never leave this place and could never grow up anymore. With tears in my eyes, I asked my mom what her name had been.\n\nBefore she even said it, I knew what the answer was: Sandra.\n\nImage: https://www.deviantart.com/taylanglates/art/Creepy-425372251\nAuthor: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/99glke/when_i_was_eight_years_old_i_made_a_new_friend/",
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      "body": "![](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmcD4gko9PBC4nPBfCEVqE5Q67pci4BtqDEEANVVqBTXi7/image.png)\n\nWe all remember that fear in our bedroom when we were younger don’t we? That creeping feeling that something awful was lurking underneath our bed, just waiting for us to fall asleep before it claimed us as it’s own. I personally, used to have my mum check it, then my dad and then I’d give it one last look before I finally settled down to go to sleep.\n\nI always thought, as long as I checked to make sure nothing was there then I’d be okay, but I never considered what would happen if I ever came face to face with what lurks under there.\n\nAs a kid, I was too logical for my own good, I was a great problem solver, but I never understood exaggeration or sarcasm; my over thinking brain is what led me to discover what I did that night.\n\nI was fascinated by horror stories, but they sent my brain into overdrive. I always thought about how all of these creations that were common place in popular culture couldn’t just have been the creation of one mind. Ghosts, monsters, aliens, vampires, all that shit. I believed in it all. My mind couldn’t fathom the fact that someone had just created them and the world had taken to it, expanding their own stories with the idea of one man.\n\nThat was my problem with it.\n\nAfter getting my dad to check under my bed I questioned him,\n\n“Dad, where did the stories about monsters hiding under beds come from?”\n\nHe looked completely stumped, I mean looking back now it was a ludicrous question to expect him to answer, but he did his best to reassure me.\n\n“Ah I don’t know buddy, they obviously came from a very silly liar because its not true, there isn’t and there never will be a monster under your bed”\n\nGod. How I wish he’d been right.\n\nThe night passed and I sat up, reading under torchlight. It was a collection of scary stories and the one I was reading was the story of a werewolf. As it hit about 10PM that was when I first heard it. A little shuffle. A tiny rustling under the bed, barely loud enough to hear.\n\nI brushed it off, presumed I’d caught the edge of a page on my book on something and carried on reading.\n\nFrom there on, it seemed to happen every 15 minutes, by the second or third time, I was aware it wasn’t me. I closed my book and placed it on my bedside table, leaving the torch on and laid as still as humanly possible on the bed. I ignored itches and pins and needles for about 15 minutes, desperate that the noises could have possibly been me. As I finally started to feel okay, I heard it again. A small rustle, like the sound of something fidgeting.\n\nI breathed in all my courage, grabbed my torch and began to move towards the end of the bed. I began the descent, lowering my self down to check under my bed, I twisted the torch and hung myself down. It’d be fine, I did this pretty much every night, I’d get down there, there’d be nothing and I could go to sleep.\n\nI met it’s gaze.\n\nIt smiled at me, a wide, ear to ear grin, revealing large rows of razor sharp, pin-like teeth. Its face was gaunt, skeletal, inhumane. Its eyes sunk grotesquely into its pale skinny face and pierced mine. The creature under my bed didn’t move, it simply remained still, staring at me, fucking smiling at me.\n\nI yanked myself up, darted across to the other side of the bed and hung down, hoping the night was playing tricks on me.\n\nI was met with the same terrifying gaze.\n\nIt’d somehow twisted to face me in that space of time, its awful eyes gazing into mine.\n\nIt’s smile seemed to widen somehow, but it couldn’t possibly be any wider.\n\nI didn’t sleep that night, funnily enough. I lay still, in the dark, listening to it shuffle and move under my bed, I think I even heard it sigh at one point.\n\nI only experienced a night like that two or three more times in my childhood, but every single time felt like the most awful imaginable circumstance I could possibly be in.\n\nBut don’t worry, the story isn’t going to end awfully.\n\nI moved on, grew up okay, despite those nights, successfully navigated college, met a woman, got married, had a kid.\n\nThe creature under my bed had long since slipped my mind as I sat downstairs with my wife, cradling a glass of wine and watching a cheap movie.\n\n“Daddy” I heard my son call from upstairs, “Daddy, you need to check under my bed for me”\n\n“There’s nothing up there buddy, don’t worry”\n\n“But daddy; I can hear some rustling…”\n\nAuthor: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/995ayh/we_always_check_under_our_beds_for_monsters_but/\nImage: https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/299700550174462201/",
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      "body": "Nice one, i'm trying to build a channel based on short stories, so far not having much success but hopefully one day i will reach your level ;)\nWish you the best.",
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      "body": "![](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmeXMfFH9M62izxBz48u6KT5yfd8G1v8DAtQuFt98xGCmY/image.png)\n\nI've done something terrible. Or great. I'm not sure which.\n\nThis isn't exactly my story. It's the story of a girl named Arianna, a friend at my school. My only friend at school, actually, and even then I'm kind of stretching the term. I'm not popular. Neither is she. Or wasn't, anyway. But she's not going to tell the story, so you get my outsider perspective on it.\n\nArianna and I hung out because no one else liked us. In her case, it was pretty standard high school stuff. She was unattractive and poor, so she was a convenient target for those who needed one. And high school's got a lot of people in search of victims.\n\nI'm an outcast because I've got a problem. I steal stuff. I don't exactly want to. It's just a compulsion. Some people eat an entire bag of chips in one sitting. I take small objects when the owner isn't looking. Sometimes I get caught, and after that happens a couple of times, word gets around. Once you're known as the klepto, you're basically cut out of all circles.\n\nI'm not blaming them, honestly. Every once in a while, someone would try to befriend me. And it'd last until something of theirs went missing, and they realized everyone else was right. Then I'd be alone again, sitting at home looking at the phone I took or the pen or the notepad, wondering why I do this to myself.\n\nArianna, I never took anything from. With everyone else, there was always this feeling of 'They'll never miss this' or 'they can get another one.' She couldn't. She was always in thrift-store clothes, and not the good ones, either. Her backpack was ratty, with tears in the fabric and broken zippers. It had one pen in it and one mechanical pencil which I'd swiped off a teacher's desk for her. It might've been the first gift I ever gave to someone who wasn't in my family. It felt weird.\n\nSo that was us, two losers. We talked some, but mainly we just stuck together so we weren't alone. It wasn't great, but it was fine. We didn't see each other over the summer, but I figured that she'd be there same as always when school let back in.\n\nBut I was totally wrong. Arianna showed up for the first day of school different. Like cheesy rom-com makeover different. She got off of the bus in this flirty dress, looking like a million bucks. Clearly a brand new dress, and she had on makeup and new shoes too. For the last couple of years, I don't think I'd ever seen her wear anything but jeans and the same pair of old boots, so this was a complete transformation.\n\nAnd she was turning heads, too. Guys were staring, girls were staring. But the first one to say anything was Cynthia, our local blonde-and-preppy mean girl. As Arianna was walking past, Cynthia said, \"Looks like somebody finally started shopping in the girls' section of Goodwill.\"\n\nArianna stopped, turned and slapped her directly across the face. Before Cynthia could say anything, Arianna said, \"Apologize.\"\n\nAnd Cynthia, standing there with one hand to her cheek, said, \"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.\"\n\nThe really weird part was, it sounded sincere. I looked around to see what everyone else thought, but the buzz of conversation was all:\n\n\"Can you believe Cynthia did that?\"\n\n\"What a bitch.\"\n\n\"I can't believe she'd try that with Arianna.\"\n\nThese were the same people who'd shunned her for every day of high school so far. Now they were acting like she was queen of the popularity club. Clearly, I'd missed something big over the summer.\n\nI caught Arianna at her locker before first period to ask her what was up.\n\n\"Oh, you know,\" she said. \"My family came into a little bit of money.\"\n\n\"Yeah, no, you look great,\" I said. \"But everyone's treating you completely differently, too.\"\n\n\"People are shallow,\" she shrugged. And yeah, sure, but this was way more than that.\n\nShe was popular now. And not just in certain cliques, either. Everyone liked her. Kids nodded and waved in the halls. The teachers clearly thought highly of her. Even the principal greeted her by name. None of it was fawning, and it wouldn't have been weird if I hadn't known her previously. It wasn't like this last year. She was a pariah, and now suddenly everyone was acting like she'd always been their favorite person.\n\nI'll be honest. It kind of pissed me off. It was like, I'd always stood by her, and now suddenly they were all claiming that they'd always been there, too. And that's not exactly fair. I didn't stand by her so much as I sheltered with her, but whatever. Feelings aren't always rational.\n\nSo I suffered through a couple of days of this, and it wasn't even like she was ever mean to me, or dismissive of me. It was just that now she had choices, and I still only had her. So I got jealous, and a little bit bitter, and I did what I always do to make myself feel better: I stole something.\n\nWe were at lunch, and she was turned away from the table to talk to some guy, I don't even know his name. Good looking, probably on the crew team, whatever. She was busy with him and not looking at me, so I leaned down and quietly unzipped her brand new backpack.\n\nThe first thing that struck me was how new and crisp everything was. Fresh, clean notebooks, the corners unbent. No bent-up, half-used spiral notebooks like she'd always had before. Six pens, all in different colors, gathered in the outside pocket. It was a little thing, but it just really showed how different everything was for her.\n\nAnd in with all of those sparkling new notebooks was what looked like an old journal, bound in black leather with three interlocking rings stamped on the front. The tops of its pages were yellowed, it was tied shut with a black ribbon, and overall it just looked interesting. And hating myself a little, I took it out of her backpack and slipped it into mine.\n\nI didn't look at it then, obviously. I just straightened back up, trying to look like I'd been tying my shoe, and returned to my lunch. Arianna never noticed. She was still talking to Brayden, or whatever his name was.\n\nAll day long, I wondered about that book, but I didn't want to take it out where anyone could see me. If word got back to Arianna, that would be it; then I wouldn't have anyone. So I kept it hidden until I got home that night, and even then I didn't take it out until my parents had gone to bed.\n\nThe book was old, that much was clear from the outside. The leather was well maintained, but worn. The stamped circles were stained where something had spilled on them. And the ribbon was frayed at the edges and felt delicate in my hands. Once I opened it, the pages were yellowed and ragged at the edges, but the ink on them was dark, black and completely unfaded.\n\nThe book was full of symbols, some sort of language I didn't recognize. And yet as I flipped the pages, something told me that I knew what the symbols meant. Power said one, preceding several pages of instructions. Command, said another. Harm. Erase. Overlook. Consume.\n\nI closed the book before it could tell me more. The symbols rustled in my head like living things, fledglings straining to leave the nest. I tied the ribbon around the book and I put it back in my backpack, planning to sneak it back into Arianna's bag the next day at school.\n\nThat night, I dreamed of the book. I dreamed of the Power incantation and what it would give me. Popularity. Friendship. Money. Success. And all it would take was a small commitment, a minor piece of myself, and a small thing that no one would miss. In my dream, it was a dog whose throat I slit for the blood, but even in the dream the image wavered and shifted, flickering to human form, the lie too great to sustain.\n\nI awoke sweating, tangled in my sheets. My phone told me that it was barely two in the morning, and I could feel the pull of the book from across the room. I could do it now. I could take the power. The sacrifice would be easy to obtain at this time of night.\n\nI rose from my bed and took the book from my backpack. I carried it out to the woods behind my house, and walked deep into the forest. When I was far enough in, I took a stick from the ground and dug a shallow hole at the base of a tree. I buried the book there, covering it back up with dirt and stamping it down, and then I walked unsteadily home.\n\nI got lost on the way, turned around in the forest at night. I found myself back at that tree a dozen times or more. But finally, as dawn began to break, I escaped from the trees and made my way back home.\n\nExhausted and ill-rested, I was totally unprepared at school the next day for Arianna's onslaught.\n\n\"Where is it?\" she greeted me, grabbing my backpack and tearing it from my shoulders. \"What did you do with it? Thief! Bastard! Where is my book?\"\n\nShe tore through my backpack, papers and books flying everywhere. A crowd gathered to watch, but no one stepped in to help. This was Arianna, after all, their new favorite person, and I was just the same klepto I'd always been.\n\nWhen my backpack was empty, she turned to me again in a frenzy. \"What did you do with it?\"\n\n\"I don't know what you're talking about,\" I insisted.\n\nIn a rage she shoved me. I stumbled backwards, tripping over my backpack and hitting my head on the ground. I tasted blood, but before that even fully processed she was on me, hair flying and nails clawing at my face.\n\n\"Lies! Liar! I'll tear your tongue out!\"\n\nShe tried, too, levering my mouth opening and slicing at my lips, cheeks and gums as I resisted. By the time the security officer pulled her off of me, my face was a bloody mess, and as I cleaned up in the bathroom I just counted myself lucky that she hadn't gone for my eyes.\n\nThat was Friday. They took Arianna away to some sort of juvenile detention; they first called for her parents to pick her up from school, but they never answered. When the school sent someone to her apartment, there was no sign of them. They think her parents might have left her, but I think about the Power ritual and I wonder what Arianna sacrificed for it.\n\nShe's missing now. I went to see her on Sunday, hoping that maybe some time away from the book had calmed her down, and she wasn't in the room that she should have been in. There was a symbol on the back of the door, written in what I'm certain was dried blood. It said Overlook, and my mind throbbed in recognition. The staff at the detention center didn't seem to see it.\n\nI think I did a good thing, separating Arianna from the book. The words written inside were horrible, stealing away people's self and soul. I think it was a good thing for the world, even if it was a terrible thing for Arianna. And even though it was a terrible thing for me.\n\nI haven't had any more dreams since I buried the book. But I haven't had a restful night's sleep, either. I keep sleepwalking, waking up to find myself outside and heading for the forest. If I slept long enough, I know what tree I'd wake up to find myself under. Or worse, wake up in my own bed, hands filthy from digging and that black book clutched to my chest.\n\nI almost hope Arianna comes to reclaim the book. I'd take her to it, I think. It's good that she doesn't have it, but is it any better that I do? I've never been good at resisting temptation.\n\nAuthor: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/98xjzg/my_friend_became_weirdly_popular_overnight/\nImage: https://wallpaper-gallery.net/gallery/creepy-anime-backgrounds.html",
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