Hey Pandas, Make Up A Horror Story On The Spot
Make up a horror story as fast as you can then post it here immediately!
I've got a bunch...
"Yesterday I wrote the number 69 on my wrist as a joke. Today it's 68, and now it's not washing off." or "Us being twins, my brother and I often share experiences and sensations. I only wish he had warned me before getting open heart surgery." or "I have a recurring dream I'm murdered by a man I'd never met. I thought it was stupid until I went on a blind date and saw him at the table." or my personal favorite, "The wailing from the baby monitor just won't stop. Problem is, my daughter is with her mother this weekend… over 200 miles away."
There’s nothing like the sound of a child’s laughter.
But not at 2am.
And not when I’m alone in the house.
I hear the door creak open and when I look to see whose there the door is just wide open. Then I close the door and turn around to see a humanoid figure sitting on the couch. The only thing creepy about him is that he is completely black and wearing a human skull on his head. Then he gets up and comes towards me and I try to punch him but my hand just goes right through him and my hand completely disintegrates. Then he sticks out his hand and his fingers extend into long black ropes then he wraps his fingers around my throat and beheads me. Then he picks up my severed head and sticks it in to his chest and the head is completely enveloped by his black flesh and he grows bigger. Now he moves on to his next victim.
The year is 2024, Donald Trunp just won reelection
Our school had only two buildings, two large old houses built on the same plot of land which was owned by a rich family. There were only few students, hence the space was sufficient and there were two guards, one old man and another in his mid 30s.
The old man wouldn't talk much with us, but the other guy was talkative. He used to say that sometimes they would hear whispers, footsteps and other eerie sounds from the two school buildings. But everybody knew that the two folks used to get drunk every night, so nobody cared about anything they said.
One afternoon me and another friend were assigned to clean two classrooms after school as a punishment for misbehaving. We were the only ones left in the school at the time. After cleaning I went to the washroom. While I was washing my hands, from the mirror I could see my friend coming out of a bathroom stall, and he just left without even washing his hands.
I came back to the classroom to grab my backpack and I asked my friend "Don't you ever flush the toilet? Or at least wash your hands?".
He wrinkled his face, "Of course I do. Why?"
"Then why the heck did you left it unflushed this time?" I asked.
He looked confused and asked "When the f**k did I go to the washroom?"
I thought he has lost his mind, so I said, "Are you high? I was washing my hands and saw you leave without flushing or washing your hands."
"What the..? You went to the washroom?" He laughed. I nodded, now this was driving me insane, probably him too. "Dude then how the f**k did I meet you in the janitor's room?"
Turns out shortly after I went to the washroom, he had gone to the janitor's room to leave the brooms, and he claims that he saw me there. But meanwhile somehow I saw him coming out of a bathroom stall, because I was there and not in the janitor's room.
That was the day we understood why the guards got drunk every night.
My dishwasher. *Screams*
I looked down and saw that my kitchen floor was covered in baby spiders. They were everywhere, even in my shoes. I couldn't move because then the door-to-door salesman would see me through the window and I wouldn't be able to pretend that I wasn't home anymore. To make matters worse, a pot of boiling oil that I'd left on the stove top was overflowing, making hissing and popping noises as it hit the floor. The baby spiders scuttled away from the hot oil, retreating farther up my legs. If I could reach the pot of oil, would I risk severe burns to get these spiders off of me?
"Hello?" called the door-to-door salesman. "I know someone's in there! Are you interested in vinyl siding? We've got ten different colors and you'll never have to paint your house again!"
I sucked in a breath and, staying in a sort of crouch to remain unseen beneath the front window, I lunged forward, grabbing the handle of the overflowing pot. My brain screamed with pain, my nervous system yelling for me to drop the pot. My hand blistered and turned red as I took a deep breath and dumped the boiling oil on my legs.
The spiders curled up and died, but there were more on the ground around me who were still very much alive. I swung at them with the pot, reducing them to splatters on my kitchen tile.
I screamed aloud as the heat of the oil on my legs and hands became simply too much to bear. I dropped the pot and collapsed in a pile of tiny spider corpses, whimpering and staring at my badly burned hands.
The doorbell rang. "Hello? Are you ok? Vinyl siding?"
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to open the door. The salesman could help me- could get me to the hospital or at least call an ambulance.
I crawled over to the door, still gasping and whimpering, and unlocked the door carefully with my injured right hand.
"Come in," I call out through the wooden barrier between me and the annoying salesman.
The doorknob turns and the blue door swings open slowly to reveal a tall man, very pale, wearing a black suit and a bowler hat pulled down just low enough to cast most of his face into shadows. The only thing i could see was his cruel, cold smile that didn't at all reach the man's gleaming red eyes. He reached towards me, laying helplessly on the floor in shock, with one hand, and I screamed, trying to kick the door closed.
A spider crawled out from his sleeve and down his hand, a big brown recluse carrying enough venom to paralyze a fully grown elephant (that's probably not true but this is fiction so whatever- I'm making this up on the spot). I scrambled backwards, away from the hand and the spider, but the man only stepped forward again, closer to me.
I screamed louder, hoping a neighbor would hear and come to the rescue, but the man only laughed- a cruel, inhuman laugh- and spoke in a voice very different from the 'pleasant yet annoying door-to-door salesman' one that I had heard before. This time, it sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard, a screeching sound that I felt vibrating in my very bones.
"I already took care of them," he told me with a wicked smile. "Seems that I can be very persuasive about vinyl siding."
"Go away," I screamed, inching backwards even faster as the man approached at the same speed. I was nearly to the wall- I was running out of space.
"Oh, but don't you want to hear about our new deals? This Friday is ten percent off on all of our products."
"I already have vinyl siding!" I insisted, which was true. I'd had it installed last spring.
"Do you?" he murmured, lowering the hand holding the spider. "Well then, I hope you'll at least recommend us to your friends. We're very active on social media, so they should have no problem finding us on the..." he released the spider, which dropped down onto my leg from a sticky thread of silk. "....web."
His cruel laugh is the last thing I heard before tumbling backwards into the empty darkness of unconsciousness.
Sorry this was like way longer than I meant it to be :)
Trump runs and wins in 2024. To frightening?
One day I woke up normally and got out of bed to check my Instagram. I turned on my phone and went onto Instagram to see nothing. My internet was down. I tried my computer, iPad, TELEPHONE, nothing. I looked outside to see people running, screaming and crying.
Wifi was gone.
The apocalypse has begun.
I could see my breath as I walked towards the stairs. It was dark, dank. I could hardly see my hand. The only light was from the windows, it barely managing to creep past the nailed boards. My mommy always said to never open the cellar door.
I took a deep breath. I wanted to be brave today. My mommy always told me of dangers and how keeping the cellar door closed was to keep me safe. Only she was allowed to even go near it as she could fight the monsters. But it was my turn to fight today. I take another deep, chilly breath, feeling the crisp but musty air chills my lungs, almost bringing a cold pain to my bones…
The cellar doors creak as I push them open…
What’s that bright ball of light on that blue ceiling?
i wake up and find I'm still married to my ex. aaahhhhh!!!!
The door is bright red. Like ketchup. The doorbell, brown and decorative. My invitation says the door is open, no need to knock.
The fog was eery. The lights were spaced just far enough to leave darkness on the streets. I hear a flutter or wings, a light breeze… and footsteps.
They grow louder. The darkness seems to grow around me. I grab the hand and jostle it for a minute. The door gives way.
White-knuckled, pounding hearted, I catch my breath and turn. The furniture seems familiar so do the walls. I’ve been here before I know it.
*Click - Clack - Clack - Clack - Click* *DING*
The sounds of a typewriter. I turn to the next room and see an elderly man. He wears a black suit. His hair fading and his beard white. He moves slowly as he slides the typewriter for a new line. It seems he hasn’t moved in years. Cobwebs seem to envelope him.
“Welcome Quentin” he said in rather a frail manner.
“How do you know my name?” I ask becoming more and more paranoid.
“Because I wrote you.”
“You mean the letter?”
“Your life, your story, your existence.”
I have no words
“I made you to take my place. Would you like to know what happens next?”
"And after 9 years of exhaustive research, she looked over the 500 page article and decided to move one picture."
So I live alone and have alopecia and I’d made some pasta, left to go to the bathroom and when I sat down and ate, I’d found a strand of hair in my food.
Every day i get a letter from myself from the future.
Today i didn’t get one
One day Marlee was alsleep and dreaming it was a nightmare. She was trying to burn a body but the body wouldn't burn all the way. The thing is the nightmare was so intense she knew this person. She had even loved this person once. It made the dream even more terrifying then it already was. Being on edge and trying to get it disposed of quickly. So, no one ever know the horrors she had committed. She didn't want to be that freak on the news. She woke in a sweat. Thinking to herself "whoa I'm glad I've never did anything like that."
However, as you walked around her house she noticed the dirty cloths in the washing machine. And dirt and ash in the the shower. She noticed her boots, covered in ash. She begin to panic. She then and there recalled the night before. She had done this awful thing.
Marlee had went to her father's house.They had been happy and talking and she remembered talking about all his old stories, he use to tell her as a kid. A tear ran down her face as she imagined him telling them now. They had got in argument about something's she had done. Things that she had done in her life. Things that she couldn't change. And also about her sister who her father would not take care of but was mental ill. She had put her in a home so she knew she would be safe, didn't have to worry about her being found dead or worse. He had got upset and had got in Marlee face and screamed and then he had began to hit her. She then remembered the bad memories of her childhood. Yes, there was lots of good times but there was dark times. Times she didn't even want to think about. She begin to see red. She had lost controll she could not take another man beating her. Her husband had when he would drink. And that sad thing her dad had know that. Her husband had gotten better after the threat of his wife leaving him. And things had gotten better. Marlee father had grab a knife out of anger and she then knew happy days where over. She grab a the nearest thing, his old wood cutting ax. Why it was in the house who knows? But she has struck him twice. An he was dead. She begin to cry but held herself together she put him in trash bag and dismembered his body. And then she started a fire pit. And she grab an shovel out of her truck. She had taken him down a wooded road. She felt devastated. How had it came to this. How? Why? When? She felt like she didn't even know who she was anymore. How could she, what was she, thinking all these questions all at once. She felt like she was going insane.
"It's a good thing I wore my helmet", I thought as I lay on the asphalt with my motorcycle skittering past me. I hit my head pretty hard. It probably saved my life. As my friend undid the strap I realized that wasn't an understatement.
Mom, where are you?
Ha, ha, very funny. You can’t just knock on my door, call my name, and then disappear. I’m not falling for that s**t. You’re probably just around the corner.
...Okay. Where are you hiding? Are you in the closet? No, not there. Under the table? Nope. Honestly, what the f**k has gotten into you? Did your father’s prankster spirit finally take its place in your body?
Mom, please come out.
...Okay. If you’re not going to answer me, I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.
...What’s that outside my window?
Holy s**t. Holy s**t...
You look at your alarm clock. 2:05am. Then you feel the cold nails of their hands dig into your stomach, paralysing you. You wake up in a cold sweat. Luckily, it was just a dream. You look at your alarm clock, 2:04am. Then you hear your cupboard creak open...
I turn off the light, I go up the stairs, but before I get up there, they vanish and I am met by a shadow creature. I knew it existed already, but no one would believe me. As I was consumed into the shadows, everyone forgot about me, and loved their life as if I had never existed. Although they can still hear my screams, they ignore them, it's just the wind they say, it's all you imagination they say. It's familiar, as I once was the kid who believed in the shadow creature
*clears throat* haunted farm house: recording 1. Hey everyone! I’m back for another haunted house video. Today I’m hear with my two friends to investigate and old farm house. The owners say it’s haunted by a 9 year old girl. *laughter in the background from friends* Hey , shut up, I’m trying to make a video. So as I was saying, the farm house is haunted by a 9 year old girl and the owners say that her name is Summer. I finally just got permission from them to check it out but the said they weren’t liable for anyone but I don’t think that will be an issue. *one hour later* Okay! We made it to the house! It looks like a two story house. It’s pretty run down *door creeks as it’s pushed open* Oh wow… all the furniture is everywhere and dishes are broken all over the ground. *floor creeks as the three of us walk farther in* *the door slams behind us and shakes the house violently* What the hell was that?! Did you shut the door? *friend shakes head* Dude, the owners weren’t joking… *soft voice comes from the living room* you killed my mother… *the three boys freak out* WR NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE! NOW! *the boys run for the door and the audio turns off*
Breaking News: Three teen boys found dead in and old farm house. Each boy had five stab wounds. No trace of a killer has been found.
Something people had feared for decades came true, making populations fall to zero in just seconds.
Yet the boy still walked the streets like nothing happened.
It was so fast, the human brain didn’t even have time to perceive any pain. The bustling city turned into a quiet, radioactive wasteland. Car parts and furniture were scattered along the streets, and ashes were falling down, mocking the white flurries everyone wished fell on Christmas. The boy turned around, and took it all in… with a grin on his face.
A great party! Getting home late, I reach just inside the front door to turn on the foyer light. I immediately feel the cold, skinny hand pull away.
I was asleep in my bed at the cottage.
Gradually I became aware of hearing, ‘Wuh. Wuh. Wuh,’ getting louder and louder, until it was deafening.
I sat up in the pitch black of my room, registering that I WAS hearing that sound.
Suddenly all of walls shook violently.
Framed paintings crashed onto the floor in the darkness.
Screaming, I heard another loud crash as I stumbled out of bed to try to find the door.
My door was NOWHERE to be found.
I was freezing cold, the sound was INSIDE my room, coming out of the air itself.
I ran in circles, panicked in terror as the ‘Wuh. Wuh. sound continued.
When I finally located it I ran to my parents bedroom.
My feet were cut up from stepping on the broken ceramic of the lamp that fell.
There was blood everywhere, they took a long time to heal although I never did.
Many things occurred over the years and I was too terrified to sleep alone in my bedroom, opting to sleep in the living room with the lights on once I was too old to sleep in their bed.
There was always some rational, that on that night it had been a cougar, always attributed to an animal when things occurred again, later.
Years later, when they sold the property to purchase elsewhere, it never stayed in the same hands for long.
The last time I went up to visit old neighbours, one of them said that our cottage was built on an Indian burial ground and the new owners were going to tear it down and build on a plateau of sheet granite on the other end of the property, some 200 feet away….
As I stood there on that hot summer day with the warm breeze blowing in from the bay I felt such a deep chill course over me.
As much as I wish it weren’t, this actually happened to me.
It's midnight...it always midnight. When the moon is at its fullest yet so dim. The window opens, pried open by long grotesque fingers with knuckles that bend back and break. Spilling black sludge over the window sill down the walls, filling the room with the sweet deadly scent of flowers. The dead fingers fall too, landing in a boney pile that creeps toward the bed. The slugde spills faster not rising but climbing up the walls, webbing the ceiling...splintering the door. Then it stills. The soft slithering sound ends. And a face appears in tge sludge, stretching
taking up the room. Her face is black as ink and her tears as rosey as the smell that fills the room. She stares at me opened her gaping mouth...but she is silent. I want to say I know her...but I don't. Even as she tries to speak to sing to me she's silent she is a stranger. Red petals still fall down her cheeks as blue drops fall down mine. The fingers crawling up my bed are Un noticed even as they crawl up my leg, over my torso, and to my neck. But they don't stop there, they move to my shoulder down my arm and take my hand. I feel her now, i fill that her hand is no longer grotesque or broken. It's whole and human. I feel her feelings through that hand, a mosaic of broken pieces. A web of a thin glass life. A tapestry of a storm of hate and love. Of hope and hopelessness. Of trust and a broken connection. I bathe in these fillings until we are a strange whole. Her in me and me in her. We have an understanding, I don't want to let go of her hand. But Then the midnight is past and she is is past. Like she never existed or maybe she does buts it's always midnight...always.