Group Info Group Founded 9 Years ago Statistics 383 Members
18,290 Pageviews327 Watchers

Group Info

RULES:

1- POST THE RIGHT ART IN THE RIGHT FOLDER!

2-DO NOT USE ANY ABUSIVE LANGUAGE

3-BE RESPECTFULNESS.

4-TRY BE ACTIVE BY POSTING HERE (we still gonna open a chat room soon )

5-HAVE FUN!


HERE I will post what goes in every folder:

Featured-only for the admins to choose whats in or not

Fanart- Art about some character thats not yours
Group
Founded 9 Years ago
May 5, 2011

Location
Global

Group Focus
Social

383 Members
327 Watchers
18,290 Pageviews
Daily Pageviews
MWRuuRuu is, unfortunately, unable to continue with this group. We wish all the best in future endeavors, online and offline.

Now, I am seeking one or two admins who will be active and diligent in this group.

It will mostly involve sorting the deviations into the correct folders (not into featured), planning the odd contest, and advertising for contests and this group, as well as occasional feedback on the group, and on the deviations submitted to the group.
Nothing too much for a small group of people.

For all interested, please comment here, or note me! :)
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Gallery Folders

Featured
Goat to hell by Dani3lmatui
Calaca by phibesby
La Catrina by phibesby
SCP-2774 by Dani3lmatui
Fanart
Nemesis loves you! by TyrantZee
I Can See You Sophie by Lear-is-not-amused
April Fools 2020 - Tea party by KonanStarchaser
Carnage Incarnate by IchorData
Writing
I will never larp againRecently I joined an internet community for larpers. If you don't know what larping is, its live action role play. You know those nerds who randomly show up in public places with costumes and foam swords? Thatís me, or at least it was. I loved larping and not just historical larping, but any type I could get involved with. Dressing up and fighting or pretending to go on adventures was an amazing and refreshing escape from my rather toxic home and school life. I was strange enough without larping and being the chubby kid who liked dragons and magic didn't really help my social life; but no matter our larping group always accepted outcasts like me.Unfortunately my local larping group consisted mostly of people fresh out of high school or people in their early 20s and as people do when they reach young adulthood, they soon left for college and other adventures, leaving our small town behind and me without a larping group. So I did what any lonely nerd would do. I went online.On a slightly infamous forum website I found a subforum dedicated to my art. It was a beautiful community of roleplayers, they shared costume and weapons builds, events, even story lines. I learned so many things from the community at large and it wasnít long before I found out that there was a new group forming one town over from me. It was a little different then the group I was used to. My group typically stuck with your stereotypical fairies, and mages, wizards and bards, but this new group, they focused on horror story lines.While it wasn't my speed, since it was the only group local to me I figured I would give it a shot. They had shared pictures of some amazing fx makeup and the wounds they did with makeup looked more real than any injury I had experienced. Their weapon making was beyond astonishing too. In one of their pictures they shared was a golden dagger, with a jewel encrusted handle, and what looked to be an ancient script on the guards. I couldn't believe it was a prop when I first saw it.They had listed an email on one of their forum posts trying to find new members and before long I was emailing back and forth with the groupís representative. The rep said they had weekly meetings, but I knew my mom wouldnít let me borrow the car that often. She sent me a reassuring email saying that it was fine I couldnít make all the meetings, so long as I could make it to their big event the following month. She told me that they would send me some props and help me make some too. Without hesitation I quickly sent her my address and eagerly awaited my package, hoping my mom wouldn't get it while I was at school. I knew she would be livid that I gave out my address to strangers online, plus she was beyond ashamed of what she called my Ďchildish hobbyí. She says someone my age shouldnít have such a strange and vivid imagination, that I should be more mature, I am a junior in high school after all.Luckily the groupís rep sent it with tracking, so the day the package was supposed to arrive I magically came down with a stomach bug and had to stay home from school. Iíve ordered enough stuff off line that I knew there was a large chance the package could arrive before mom left for work and with me staying home from school there was even the risk she'd want to stay home to check on me. I somehow managed to convince her I was just going to sleep all day and that her being a helicopter mom would only slow my recovery. I watched out the window as she backed out of the driveway and I really got lucky, because right after mom left for work there was a knock at the door, the package from my new larping family was here. I held my breath as I ran to the door. I felt like I was holding the key to my brand new life when I picked the package up off the doorstep.I cradled the package like a new father would his first born as I went upstairs to my room. I set the package down on my computer desk. Thoughts of stage makeup and costuming supplies filled my head as I ripped the tape from the box. I was more than slightly disappointed when I moved the flaps of the box revealing some gold tone jewelry, and what looked to be little shriveled up wads of liquid latex with little hairs sticking out of it, I couldn't figure out why they sent so many used pieces of latex, but I assumed there was a purpose for sending them to me. The jewelry was heavy in my hand and I had a feeling this wasn't just costume jewelry, there were two pieces, both necklaces. One featured a heavy chain, and a large pendant with a grotesque looking eye emblazoned on it, and its iris featured a sparkling blood red stone. The second necklace had a similar chain, but it had a pendant on it that was shaped like a large tube. It had the same ancient script I had seen in the pictures online engraved in it. As I ran my hands over the strange tube my fingers must have grazed a hidden button, because a sharp blade jolted out of the bottom of it, while what seemed to be a guard of some sort expanded out of the sides. Of all the things I expected from a larping group but a hidden spring loaded dagger was not one of them.Before I could even finish looking at the dagger, my phone buzzed. The group rep had sent me a message asking if I liked my new package. Shocked and wondering how she knew it was already here, another message appeared. She swiftly explained that the next storyline we would be acting out had to do with a cult. They had provided me a ritual dagger, and Ďingredientsí to use while in character. She told me I didn't have to prep much, just to make sure I was wearing white when the day came and that they would guide me through everything once I arrived.All of this was starting to feel really strange, but then again I had never heard of a horror larping group. They seemed friendly enough and in my desperation for friends I really didn't want to question things too much. I hid the box under my bed, and eagerly started counting down the days until I met my new friends. In the coming weeks we exchanged more messages and I grew more and more comfortable with the group. They excitedly told me this would be their biggest meeting yet, with members coming from all over the US to participate.I devoted my time to learning more about cults and everything horror I could. I learned about everything from the Jonestown massacre, to the history of horror as a writing genre, and even the development of monster fx makeups. As I learned more I started to notice strange things happening around me. I started to hear faint whispers at night as I laid down at night, coupled with small noises coming from beneath my bed.When I would go to sleep, I would have absolutely horrifying dreams. In my dreams I could see a dark room, with a large slab in the center of it adorned with writing that matched what was on my dagger. Pinned to the walls were decaying bodies of young men and women, dressed in all white outfits. It looked as though their eyelids had been removed, and their eyes replaced with large red jewels that reflected a deep almost unending darkness. Protruding from their chests were daggers almost identical to mine. As I would watch horrified, a smoke would fill the room, as it swirled and danced the bodyís necks would pop and snap as their heads followed the smoke to the slab in the center of the room. I could hear jaws clicking and popping as they started whispering the chants I couldn't begin to understand.In my dreams I would walk to the large slab, and as I did my feet would brush these tiny shriveled up pieces of flesh. As I neared the slab I could see that the wall behind it was adorned with thousands of amulets that seemed as though the jeweled eye visages were staring deep into my soul. Just when it seemed like the sparkling eyes would blink, the smoke in the room would start to churn and thicken, forming a grotesque woman's face. It was always right at that moment, I would feel a deep piercing pain in my chest, and I would wake up drenched in sweat, and screaming.My mom got more and more concerned as the days went on and even started questioning what I was doing to suddenly bring on such terrible night terrors. Afraid she would ban me from taking the car and seeing my new friends, I would just tell her I was stressed because of school. I was only days away from finals, and I was hoping she would buy it. I was lucky that the meeting with my new larping group fell during the two week break between semesters. When the night terrors continued after my finals, I told her that I was stressed about scholarship prospects and my future college plans. As much as she didnt believe thats what was causing my night terrors, she was too thrilled with the idea i was going to go to college, I had never mentioned it before and to be frank my grades weren't exactly great. Part of me was honestly hoping that these terrible dreams were from stress, maybe it was school, or the fact I had been without friends for so long; but little did I know it wasnít stress getting to me at all.Before I knew it the day to meet my new friends had arrived. I told my mom that I had signed up for a study group in the next town over to try and help me with my grades and that maybe it would help me be less stressed and help stop the night terrors. With that kind of logic my mom didnít even question me, in fact she actually praised me. She went on and on about how proud she was that I had left my childish fantasies and played pretend behind and how great it was I was finally focusing on my future..I almost felt a pang of guilt when I started the car, but when I looked at my backpack in the passenger seat the shame of lying to my mom quickly faded. She had never approved of anything outside her cookie cutter version of normality and her harsh expectations of what my life should be. I couldnít let her view of the world change who I am. I plugged the address of our meet up in my phone and I was off.Most larping sessions are held in parks, and other open spaces, so I wasn't totally surprised when the address was an empty parking lot. What was slightly surprising was the dense forest around the parking lot. I was hoping that we wouldnít be using the woods, it would be so easy for people to get lost and hurt, especially me, since this was my first time out there. Luckily enough, when I got out of my car I noticed a sign with a bright red arrow and the same creepy eye from my pendant on it. I took out my two necklaces and put them on, then I shouldered my backpack and started walking. I could smell a fire the farther down the path I went. It was almost like a campfire filled with sage and other herbs, with a hint of burnt meat. I wondered if the smell had anything to do with the larping group, when I heard a twig behind me snap.When I opened my eyes next I was laying down in a cold and damp room. I tried to move my hands to touch the throbbing knot on my head, but I quickly realized they were chained behind my back. As my eyes focused I saw I was in the room from my nightmares. The smell of putrefying and rotting bodies permeated my nose, I could feel the cold slab underneath me. I felt like I was being watched as I heard footsteps coming down a distant corridor. The room quickly filled with people in dark hooded robes. Though I couldn't see their faces, I could see that they had large amulets and hidden knives around their necks. Like mine they were adorned with large jeweled eyes, but their amulets were a vibrant silver in contrast to my golden one. The silence in the room was deafening, then the chanting started. It was barely above a whisper when a figure stepped closer to me.ďWelcome to ourÖ group. We are so glad you reached out to us. We have been awaiting the arrival of our new member. As you can see, some of our old ones are wellÖ indisposed.Ē her velvety voice rang in my ears with a menacing pang. ďWe are protectors, and guardians. We are guides for the lost and the lonely. We bring them unity and give them a home, we give them Her. She gives them purpose. She brings us light, and she provides. This ceremony is to welcome you into the fold, to give you purpose beyond yourself.Ē She pulled out the box that was once in my backpack.She emptied the box's contents into her hands. It was then I realized that they were eyelids. They weren't just pieces of fx makeup prosthetics, those were real eyelids that I had at one point held in my hand. She came towards me, and I started to struggle against my restraints, but I couldn't move. She stroked my cheek, and I could almost feel her smiling behind her hood. She quickly and expertly placed the eyelids in an intricate pattern on my stomach and chest. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw smoke filling in the room. As the grey whisps danced in the air, the chanting grew louder. I could feel the amulet on my chest vibrating and heating up. The smoke was dancing above my face and as the chanting grew louder I could see a face start to form in it.ďShe is here. She welcomes your contributions to the Collective. She appreciates your donation to the world. You see, while she is our Goddess, our ruler, she is limited. She needs help, and we are here to aid. Her powers have weakened over the millenia. She has lost her devotees, the priests and priestesses who used to worship her, elevate her. Our Collective consists of her last remaining adherents. Her secrets have been passed down through generations of loyal disciples. We remain to help her. Protect her. We bring her sustenance. When we provide, she provides. In exchange for sight, she protects our land, the trees, and the forests. She ensures good harvests, and peace in the forestsĒ, the hooded figure explained without a pause.The smokey face was now drifting closer to mine, with more form than before. I could see what would be her skin looked fragile, and pitted. It looked like the skin of someone who had lived hundreds of years. Her eyes were sunken beaming red lights, boring down on me. Her lips were paper thin, doing little to hide the broken and jagged teeth concealed within her mouth. Her wispy hair danced like flames around her ancient and grotesque form.ďShe needs your eyes. To see that is. They say that their eyes are the windows to the soul. They are more than that, when used correctly they are more like the doorway to the soul, to the pure energy that creates all of us. Our Goddess has been crippled by time, and only retains a limited amount of sight. Without her sight, she cannot protect, and she cannot provide. Your offering tonight will provide her with the ability to see all of her lands and charges. It will extend her powers for just a while longer and it will better the world. While I know you were expecting some silly role play game, I think you'll find this experience far more fulfilling, and besides, you'll join the rest of our friends here. Forever together with those who have gone before you.ĒI could feel the golden dagger start to move over my chest, itís chain rubbing across my neck. The wispy figure had begun to form arms and as she did I could feel them tugging at the dagger. It felt as though she was searching for the release I had accidentally found weeks earlier. With an echoing click I heard the dagger snap open. It was then that the chanting reached a crescendo. The clicking of extending daggers rang through the room.The goddess traced the dagger lightly along my chest and brought it up to my face, as she neared my eyes she let out a demonic ear piercing shriek, it was at that moment I could see the silver daggers piercing the hands of her followers. As their blood dripped the floor the goddess whipped the dagger across my face, ripping the eyelid from my left eye. I screamed in horrified agony. Blood began flooding into my field of vision, and the pain was excruciating. I started sobbing, the tears stung my open wound as I tried to thrash my head around. I started pleading as the Goddess brought the dagger towards my other eye.ďBare witness to the truthĒ her hollow haunting voice said, barely above a whisper.Suddenly there was a loud bang, and yelling. All of the followers of the Collective had sounded like women and even at the chantings loudest it still sounded like a calm hum, but this new noise sounded more frantic, and authoritative, their footfalls sounded heavy. A familiar voice rang through the chamber right as I started to black out. I never knew that even without an eyelid, your sight can fade into darkness. I heard women screaming, men yelling, and I almost thought I could hear my mom. The last noise I heard was the goddess howling in agony, almost like an animal caught in a hunterís trap.This time when I awoke, it was in a hospital room. My mother was there and so were two policemen. I could tell my mom had been crying, and the policemen, while stern, seemed very shaken as they stared at the bandage on my eye. They quietly explained what had happened. Apparently my mom was more than just shocked when I mentioned going out of town for studying, she knew I was lying. I guess in some ways Iím lucky she's kinda crazy and overbearing, because she assumed I was going to buy pot and decided to follow me. When she saw me get hit by the cultists she ran out of the woods and called the police.Once the police arrived they were able to use scent hounds to find my trail. My scent led right to a large boulder and they could hear chanting coming from behind it. They called in back up, and were able to push the boulder out of the way. The noises I heard were them running down the hallways. They didn't see the goddess, but they did see the room was full of smoke. The police were able to detain all of the cultists, but none of them would give clear answers about what had happened down in that hell hole. The bodies on the walls were removed, and the police are currently working on identifying them. So far the freshest bodies are local missing people, but some of the corpses look to be old. Like at the very least a few hundred years old, so they are waiting on some anthropologists and various other scientists to help gather what information they can from the older bodies. Right now they think sacrifices have been going on in that cave for thousands of years.We aren't sure what's going to happen with my eye. Humans are supposed to have eyelids. They help prevent infection, they keep your eye clean and moist, and they help with sleep. The doctors stressed that Iím going to need eye drops, and will probably have a very long standing relationship with my local hospital. My mom has also decided that I am going to be homeschooled from here on out, partially because of my eye; but mostly because she's afraid that the cultists will come after me.I convinced my mom to bring me my laptop, so I could post this as a warning. I think the strangest part of all of this is that when my mom left to go get my laptop, I turned on the tv. On the news, they were talking about forests suddenly turning black, trees dying as plague of bark beetles came out of nowhere attacking the forests. Even though my eye is covered, I can still see smoke in front of it and there is a tree branch scratching at the window in my room. Each time the leaves make contact with the glass it's like I can hear thousands of screams all at once. Even worse, when I close my eye, I can see the Goddess, she's shriveled, and in pain, her skin flaking away, and her smoke getting thinner. I just tried to rearrange my pillows so I could sit more comfortably, and underneath them I found an ancient, jewel encrusted dagger.
I've been sleepwalking lately and tonight I'm...Missing: James TurnerHeight: 5ft 8inHair color: BrownEye color: BlueWeight: 200 poundsAge at time of Disappearance: 28 I kept reading the words on the flyer over and over in my head. I never thought I would be spending my second wedding anniversary looking for my husband. He had disappeared a few days before and the police were out of leads. I was spending my days and nights searching, and putting up posters. Things had been rough between us lately, he had lost his job and money was tight, but it wasn't anything to run away over. He didn't have any enemies, no one who would want him to disappear. He had left late that fateful night to help his friend whose truck broke down, I was getting ready for bed and when I woke up in the morning he wasn't next to me. I called his friend who said James should have been home hours ago, he started to drive the trek to our house searching for James as I called the police. It only took them a few hours to find his truck abandoned in a parking lot. He loved that truck, he never would have left it with the keys in the ignition, and the doors open. When the police told me they found it, they didn't think I could hear their radios buzzing with talk of blood in and around the truck. I think the officers saw my face drain of color, because they quickly turned their radios off. They assured me they would find my husband. That I shouldn't worry. That night I laid awake in bed, wondering where we went wrong, why he would leave. At some point I must have drifted off, because suddenly I was dreaming about him. He laid on the ground, his shoulder length hair laying almost like a halo in a pool of blood. He was gasping for air; and as he reached for me with a shaking hand, I woke up. Panicking and drenched in sweat I made my way to the light switch. As soon as I saw the blood on the switch and where it was dry and crusting on my hands, I dropped to the floor sobbing. I showered, inspecting myself for wounds and found nothing. I spent hours cleaning the blood from my walls and bed. Exhausted I fell back asleep, and when I woke up in the morning I managed to convince myself it was a dream. I spent most of that day at the police station answering questions, they asked me if he had any debts, maybe some angry former coworkers. They even asked me about our marriage and if he had taken a lover. I answered all the questions, but the answers didn't change much. James had led a very bland life, he was quiet and level headed. He didn't yell or scream even when we had our worst arguments. I told the police he had depression, but he had been in therapy and had finally found a combination of medications that worked for him. We had always been extremely open and honest about mental health. He hadn't said anything to me about struggling with anything in months. Sure he was down about losing his job, but it was just a temporary thing. The police jotted down notes, and by the time the sun was setting they let me go home. That night led to even more restless sleep then the previous night. I tossed and turned, feeling the heavy weight of emptiness on his side of the bed. Instinctively I would reach out to touch him, and the cold sheets where his warm body once laid were like a shock to my system. That night my nightmares returned, but this time I found myself in the mouth of a cave I often visited as a child. It was cold and damp, and there was a tinge of iron in the usually musky air. In my hand I had a pair of scissors, and I could hear muffled noises coming from deeper in the cave. I crept inside and in the dim light emanating from the mouth of the cave I could see my husband, tied to a chair. There was blood matted to his hair, and he looked to be unconscious. There was a second chair next to him. In it sat a young woman, probably around 20. She had long blond hair, that had twigs and leaves scattered through its knots. There was tape over her mouth, and mascara stained her cheeks as her tears flowed freely. Like my husband she was bound to the chair, her ankles tied to the legs, and her arms were behind her back and strapped to the backing of the chair. As I walked towards them I reached out to touch my husband's cheek, when the woman's muffled screams filled the air. I once again awoke with a start, my knees were covered in musky dirt, and in my hand were strands of long blond hair. I was confused, and exhausted, but I didnít have time to focus on my confusion. Even though it was earlier then I typically woke up,I figured there wasn't any point in going back to bed. The police had scheduled a press conference that day, and had asked me to speak at it. Where we didnít have any leads on where my husband could be, they hoped my pleads would either convince my husband to come home or to encourage anyone who knew anything to come forward. I spent my morning on the phone with my family, who were trying so hard to give me comfort from half a continent away, but nothing they said could ease the pain and confusion I felt. I flipped between anger and despair, and loneliness and confusion as the day wore on. When it came time to get ready for the press conference I just sat staring at my closet. There peeking out behind all the clothes was the bag that contained my wedding dress. That bulky white bag was like a backdrop for the memories that ran through my head. All of our dates, our arguments, our plans and dreams kept swirling in my mind. In between the painful and bittersweet memories, the image of my husband and that woman in the cave sprang into my mind. I could see flashes of the scissors jutting towards the woman. I shook my head, assuming it was stress and my brain trying to cope with my husbandís absence. I quickly got dressed and made my way to the police station for the press conference. By the time I arrived there were already crowds of people surrounding the police station, and I was rushed inside by two large and intimidating police officers. When I stepped inside the police station, it was buzzing with activity. There were officers answering phone calls, taking notes, and talking amongst themselves in front of a large chalkboard on wheels. On it was a photo of my husband and a photo of the woman from my dreams. One of the officers must have noticed the change in my expression while I stared at the board. He quickly explained to me that one of my husband's former coworkers was reported missing that morning. They had found her car in a similar way, doors open, keys in the ignition and small spots of blood on the driver's seat. It was abandoned on the side of the road leading north out of town. As of that moment the only connection she had to my husband was their once shared workplace. The police told me they weren't sure how the two of them going missing were connected, but they told me they had seen cases like this before, two young people having an illicit affair and running away to be together. Tears streamed down my face as flashes of my husband smiling at his phone, and staying late at work came bubbling up in my memory. I shook my head, we were still newlyweds. He loved me, there was no way it was an affair. I asked the police if they thought there was anyway it was their workplace that was being targeted, and they assured me they were exploring all the possibilities. The news conference came and went in a flash. I don't remember making my desperate pleads, I don't remember what all I said, all I remember is the insurmountable urge to bring my husband home. The reporters were already aware of the missing woman, and that she was my husband's coworker. They bombarded me with questions about them, if I knew her, had I seen them together, and if the police were sure they had not faked their deaths to be together. I think the press officer saw the hurt in my eyes at the reporteres veiled accusations, because he quickly stepped in and took over answering the questions. I quickly left the makeshift stage, and found myself weeping in a back room at the station.By the time I made it home, I was absolutely exhausted. I crawled into bed and quietly cried myself to sleep. My dreams were different. I was at home in bed, when I heard my husband come in the front door. He silently crept in the bedroom, and started undressing. I could see grease and oil stains on his clothes from his friendís car. He must not have noticed that I was awake. His phone buzzed as he was changing, and after checking it his face went red with anger. He tossed the phone next to me and stormed off to the bathroom. I looked at the phone before the screen locked. It was a message from his coworker. It talked about how she was planning on telling me the truth. I woke up from the dream crying. Over the days I had been doing research on missing persons, and the support for their families. One posting I saw online stressed that you will go through a ton of different thoughts, and sometimes your mind gets so stressed you start thinking of and dreaming of what you feel would be the worst case scenario. I guess my mind thought that the worst thing that could have happened was him leaving me for another woman. I spent all day hanging up flyers and going to his normal hang out. No matter what my mind wanted me to think, I wasn't willing to give up on James. I felt like everywhere I turned I would see him out of the corner of my eye. When I got home that night there was a police officer waiting for me. They asked me if they could collect his laptop to look for more evidence. Without a thought I let him in to collect it. As he was leaving he noticed some blood drops on the carpet and asked me about them. I told him I must have cut myself at some point, because I really dont know or remember how they got there. He gave me a hard and cold stare before leaving with my husbandís laptop. At this point I was starting to get worried. There was that night I woke up covered in blood, then the mud, and now there were mystery blood drops on my floor. I resolved to use my phone to record my bedroom at night. Iím not sure what I expected to film, but I left the light on in the hallway hoping that I could figure out what was happening. What I caught on the video was nothing I anticipated. That night I decided to sleep in one of Jamesí shirts. The smell of his deodorant and cologne brought me a small bit of comfort as I drifted off to sleep. Then the dreams started. I was back in the cave. My husband and that woman were still there, James was pale and sweating as if he had a deep fever. He had cuts on his body that were almost pulsating with pus. The woman's long hair had been cut off in jagged swipes. She had apparently struggled against her bonds, because her chair was tipped over, and her face was resting in a puddle of stagnant cave water, while a large rat chewed at an open wound on one of her arms. Her eyes were closed, but they snapped open when she heard my footsteps coming towards them. As I stood over her, her body shuddered with deep guttural cries. I woke up in my bed the moment my boot made contact with her head. I was so shaken I almost forgot about the camera. I stood up to make myself some coffee and as I went to walk down the hallway to the kitchen, I tripped over my boot. The bottom of it was covered in mud, blood and strands of blond hair. I suddenly remembered my phone, and ran to check it. Watching the video I was absolutely horrified. You could clearly see me standing up out of bed, walking to my husband's side of the bed. I then stood there for several minutes seemingly staring at it. I then went to my closet and dressed myself. I walked out of the room, and I could hear the faint hum of my car's engine starting. Hours later I returned, and the sound of my boots being tossed on the hall floor was audible. When I entered the bedroom I removed my clothes, and put them in the laundry basket. I curled back up in bed, and awoke about 15 minutes later. What's truly terrifying is I don't remember doing any of this. I mean I had been having weird dreams, but they are just dreams right? I did some research on sleepwalking, and apparently extreme amounts of stress can cause you to suddenly start sleepwalking when you have no history of doing it. Itís not uncommon to go through some sort of extreme trauma and then begin doing things in your sleep that you normally wouldnít. Could the sleep walking and the weird dreams be a byproduct of my pain? Could it be the overwhelming feelings of loss and guilt over my missing husband? I decided I wasn't going to play guessing games. At some point in the shuffle of reports and questioning, one of the officers on my husband's case had given me a business card for a local psychologist. I dug through my purse until I found the card, and dialed the number on it as quickly as I could. A husky man answered. He seemed friendly enough, and when I explained who I was he told me that he had been expecting a call from me. Apparently he had a cancelation, and was able to squeeze me in for an appointment that afternoon. The office was small, and peaceful, and the psychologist was very kind. Since this was our first meeting he spent more time going over what to expect from seeing him and getting to know me, than he did addressing the elephant in the room. He thought he knew why I was there, my husband was missing and I was caught in a place between mourning a loss and hope for my husbandís return. He was a little taken back when I interrupted him to ask him about sleepwalking. He coughed slightly and asked me to elaborate. Not wanting to mention the blood and dirt, I told him that without my husband I was alone at night and that I was noticing little things being moved around the house while I slept. The psychologist eyed me up and down, and calmly confirmed some of what I read online. He studied me closely, and suggested that I purchase one of those little cameras you can strap to your body. He thought it may bring me some peace of mind to see if it was actually me moving the stuff in the house and that it would subconsciously reassure me that no one else was in the house with me. We casually chatted the rest of the time he had allotted for my appointment and as soon as I pulled out of the parking lot I went straight to our local electronics store. I managed to find a little action camera I could afford, along with a chest harness. That night I made sure that all my clothes and shoes were clean and away, I put my car keys in the drawer, and I strapped on my new little observer. It took a while to find a position to sleep in where the cameraís straps werenít digging into my shoulder, and where I didnt think I would roll over and crush the camera. I stared at the ceiling waiting thinking about the last few days as I waited for sleep to take me. My husband was gone, I was having terrifying nightmares, and I was most likely sleep walking. I didn't know if it was all connected, but I was going to find out in the morning. Before I knew it I had slipped into another horrifying nightmare. I was back at the cave, and I had a baseball bat with me. The woman was still laying on her side, strapped to the chair, with her face in the puddle. Her body shuddered with deep labored breaths, and the back of her head looked caved in. James sat upright in his chair, his skin even more discolored than before. His body was covered in splotchy green and purple marks, while his face was a vibrant angry shade of red. He was shaking violently and I couldnít be sure if it was because he was cold, or because the infection in his wounds had finally set in. As I stepped closer his head weakly lifted, and his eyes fluttered open to meet mine. I had never seen a more terrified look on his face. His mouth opened and it looked as though he was trying to talk, but I couldnít hear a sound. As though I was in a trance, I turned away from him and towards the woman. I brought the bat above my head, and with all the force I could muster I slammed it down on the side of her head. The sound of bone shattering contact quickly gave way to morbid squelches as the floor and walls of the cave became painted in her brain matter. Once her skull had been mostly emptied of its contents, I turned to James. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he mouthed the words I love you, but before he could finish the bat made contact with his right temple. The force of the blow flung him backwards, and I walked over him and the chair he was tied to. His face was quickly being coated with blood, and my heart ached. I swung the bat down on his face over and over, until the look of pure terror had been demolished. As I pulled the bat up from the final crushing blow, it caught something. Feeling it snag I looked down and saw the camera mounted on my chest. In that moment of recognition I fell to the floor gasping. It was like a violent jolt ripping me out of a nightmare, just to have reality cut me down. Their blood mixing on the floor coated my hands and knees as I violently wretched. I looked around me and realized they were never dreams. I did all of this. The memories came back to me in a flood. The text, me confronting him, the argument. Him insisting we take a drive to clear our heads. Me hitting him with a wrench he kept in the glove box. Taking the chairs out of the bed of the truck and leaving him in the cave. Her sitting outside my house sobbing over her lost lover. Me coaxing her out, and hitting her with the crystal decanter Jamesí father gave us as a wedding gift. Loading her in the trunk of her own car and tying her up next to James. I remember him trying to tell her he loved her.. I remember driving their cars, and walking home. I remember everything. Iíve been sitting on the floor of the cave, trying to process what all has happened this last week or so. To understand how I could do this and not remember. How I could sleepwalk and manage to kill two people. I held Jamesí hand as his chest shuddered with its last breath, and I can only hope it brought him some small comfort. Once I finish typing this Iím going straight to the police and turning myself in. I don't want to think about it, but the camera Iíve been wearing should hold more than enough information for them to figure out what happened. I wish there were some deep moral values I could impart on you as you read this, but there isn't. This was purely for me to try and reconcile what has happened, and so that no matter what happens to me, Jamesí and that womanís family will know the truth. I didn't intend for this to happen and I hope to god I never sleep walk again.

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CreepyPasta
I'm in the Navy, sailors are going missing, If the title didnít explain it well enough Iím going to give it a try here. Iím currently a seaman at a training command, for the sake of security I wonít reveal which, but it is a fairly large and well known command. Iíve been here a few months waiting for classes to start, FYI never listen to your recruiters, they donít have a shitting idea when you will graduate or go to the fleet. They told me I would be in and out of training so fast I wouldnít even have time to unpack. I got here on Halloween and it is now close to New Years. Anyway, thatís not why Iím writing this. There is something here, and not some whack job military experiment, something much older then that. Something terrifying. When you are in between classes in training you live your life assigned to a duty section and a permanent watch, meaning you have assigned days any times you work either cleaning, or walking around the base making sure no Marines got their head stuck in the toilet, and the airmen have working air conditioning. My permanent watch is mids rover, meaning I get to walk my happy ass around base in the middle of the night with a partner, or I get to walk around the barracks making sure that the fire extinguisher that gets checked every hour hasnít expired or discharged suddenly; this is called fire watch. I first saw it when I was on was on a particularly dull fire watch. I had just checked the second floors extinguisher and emergency exit for the fifth time that night, when I heard scratching. I looked up from my clipboard, thinking someone got shitty down at the base club and forgot that we had a front door. What I saw was not the drunken sailor I expected, but what looked like a hand. In the light from the escape I could see it was long, and thin, almost a mossy green color, with short broken yellow nails. Iím watching, sure thatís our barracks is currently filling with carbon monoxide or some other gas that could make me hallucinate, when the door violently starts rattling. So, like the stupid junior sailor I run towards the fucking door, cause my unarmed clipboard carrying ass is going to be able to do a damn thing right?A few steps from the door I stopped, blood running colder the Neptunes tits at a blue nose ceremony. This thing, what ever the fuck this thing is or was, is tall. Not just like Ďhaha Iím short so everything seems tallí tall, but tall enough it had to bend down to look into the small window on the fire escape door. It is green, and wildly thin. Not just that, but itís eyes glowed almost like two flashlights. When it saw me, it screamed the most ear shattering scream I have ever heard. Itís teeth were jagged and yellow, and it had two flaring slits for its nose. As I dropped my clipboard and fell to the floor I could hear footsteps, and thatís the last thing I remember. When I came to I was in Senior Chiefís office, with him, and our lieutenant staring at me. Outside the office it sounded like the whole night crew was shuffling around trying to pretend they were busy. After a series of rapid fire questions, and explaining what I saw, Lieutenant start swearing like, well, a sailor, and left the room quickly to make some phone calls. Senior Chief calmly explained that all the rovers had been recalled to the barracks, which never happens, ever. Itís a major security issue even if checking fire extinguishers and breaking up fights between Marines and raccoons is boring. He also very sternly told me that I had seen nothing, there was no gas leak, and that I was to report to medical in the morning because very clearly I was sick, running a fever, and hallucinating. I was swiftly dismissed from his office, and told to go to bed. But as I was leaving I caught him watching the security footage on his computer. You could see two lights coming from the doors window, and me dropping to the ground. Walking out of his office I was suddenly bombarded by the night crew, asking what happened, and why they were recalled, and I told them honestly. I have no fucking clue.The next morning after waiting several hours at sick call, I was given a clean bill of health. There was absolutely nothing wrong with me, no signs of illness, disease, or defect, which doesnít always mean much coming from Navy medical, but at that point I would take anything I could get. After returning to Seniorís office with my handy dandy paperwork, I was once again sat down, and told nothing happened. I was also being put on the external night rover team. Meaning I would have a partner and would be checking the outdoor areas of base. Fucking fantastic right? See some sort of tall ass green demon fucker, and I get to be stuck outside, all night with it, a radio, a flashlight, and a maybe competent partner who wanted to do more then hang out at the female barracks smoke pit. That was about a week ago. I was just starting to forget about the demonic green bean, and starting to feel comfortable in my new watch, when shit changed. I woke up this afternoon to my roommate in a full panic. One of the new seaman recruits fresh out of boot had gone missing at some point between when I got off watch at 6am, and when my roommate got out of their class at 2 pm. Poor kid probably didnít even get to wash the smell of fear and Lever 2000 out of his clothes before he went missing. The base was preparing searches of the beaches, and doubling down on security and rovers. When I assumed my watch we were given strict instructions to stay in pairs, and radio in anything we found. If we found anything related to the missing sailor we were to not touch anything, and call it in immediately, while keeping everyone else away from what we found. How we would know what was related to the missing sailor I had no fucking idea, but this is the military, where logic doesnít matter, and instructions arenít given to make sense. Our watch started off fairly normal, with double the personnel it was much easier to cover ground, and to not feel so alone. It sounds lame, but one of the largest bases in the country is creepy as fuck naturally, when thereís only two people walking around outside. My partner and I took the path to the beach training area, while the other team started with the parking lots and class rooms. As we were walking to the beach, I hear this absolutely miserable ear raking screech. My partner did too, because they covered their ears as fast as I did. Our radios started screaming static, and we looked at each other deciding what our next step should be. We could go forward and investigate, and find something we didnít want to, or potentially break up some super secret spy plot. My partner was absolutely convinced someone was jamming our radios and we would be heroís if we could corner them. Not that anyone with that equipment would be unarmed, or would think twice about picking off two junior sailors. We could turn around at least until our radios were working and we could call for back up, but my partner was convinced these expert spies he dreamed up would get away. Or we could split up, one of us go forward to investigate, and one back to get help, the exact thing we were told not to do. So what do we do? We go the fuck forward, cause my partner is an idiot, and I ainít about to get no captains mast because his dumb ass wonít go back. The screeching gets louder and louder, and we have to shut our radios off because the static is so overwhelming. My partner is so caught up in the idea that heís going to get a letter of recommendation he didnít notice the droplets of blood in the sand. He also didnít notice the missing sailors name tag being licked by the low tide. We were nearing the piers when I saw the lights. I guess I should probably just call them eyes at this point. My heart sank, I knew, I fucking knew what I saw was real, and my partner was about to see it too. Or he would have, if the thing hadnít launched out from under the pier at him. It was like watching one of those trap door spiders attack. My partner had no clue what happened, and I can only hope that his death was swift. I watched as this thing flew at him at an inhuman speed, I heard his bones shatter on impact, and I heard it howl in delight as it ripped the skin from his face. I ran, running blindly as fast as I could, I didnít even feel the pavement between my boots, or stop running till I ran face first into the other rovers. Sobbing I grabbed their radio, and told Senior it was bad, it was back, and he needed to get down there. Immediately we were all recalled, and once again I was in the office, this time surrounded by officers I had never met. They assured me they had a rescue team down in the area, and that once again I was hallucinating and managed to abandon my roving partner. That didnít last long though. One of the officers, a rear admiral I think, got a phone call. He quickly turned as pale as I felt, and told senior to mark the two missing sailors as awol. He wanted me detained and everyone to regroup at the main quarterdeck. Iíve been locked in this office for two hours. I donít know whatís going to happen to me, and I donít know what happened to the other two sailors. But I do know a couple of things, one being your recruiter fucking lied. Given how all the senior enlisted and officers have acted about this they fucking knew something was going on, and covered it up. I think anyone who has been in long enough knows the dangers arenít sunken ships or unsung battles, but the things that lurk by the water. Second, I know I am not getting out of this mess I didnít ask to be in, and so Iím writing this down here. I was lucky I kept my phone hidden in my cargo pocket. I donít know if the other branches have this problem, but know if you hear about a sailor going awol, it probably isnít what it seems. I hear them coming back now, and I hope I get the opportunity to update this later, but if I donít, just know that there are things out there we donít understand, that are older then us, and the government and the military fucking knows about them....
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:iconteroporthan:
TeroPorthan Featured By Owner 2 hours ago   Digital Artist
Entries expire, are you still active group?
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MassofContradictions Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2018  Professional General Artist
Thanks for accepting me =D Happy to be here. 
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AlenDemon Featured By Owner Jul 2, 2016
Thanks for accepting ! CHEERS ! :)
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SunriseOnVenus Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for letting me join! :)
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DannyFritz Featured By Owner Jun 27, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for accepting me! Devilish 
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AliceCooper80 Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2014
Thanks for accept me in the club :)
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suttonQjuggernaut1 Featured By Owner Aug 28, 2014
OOO that was quick! thanks for accepting :D
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DrunkFrenchFry Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2014
Horror fans, if you're interested, please join this awesome horror forum w11.zetaboards.com/Death_Await…  
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BootShopStory Featured By Owner Dec 16, 2013   Artist
:)
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Nemo-Fuse Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Ta for taking this bit of madness.
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