Real life horror stories

i want to hear some too

quote:
HOW EXPLICET CAN IT BE DUE TO MY CONCERN 4 KIDS BEING ON THIS-SITE REGULAR-MILD-SPICEY-OR SUPREME...YES I'M SERIOUS

give it all to us

I have a killer in my family! :

my uncle has killed before. Only some of us in the family

know about it. He doesnt know that we know about his killing. im worried that if he does find out - that he

might come after us. The cops dont believe us.. :

"All of us are God's creatures... just some are more creature than others." -- anonymous quote

Some people like to live in thier own worlds, pretending that evil does not exist all around them. Going about thier daily lives like the beast does not exist.

As I took out the garbage that aphotic fall night, I could feel the sense that something was watching me, something evil lurking just beyond perception. That cold penetrating gaze, like it was sizing me up for some late night snack. I stood perfectly still, with my back turned to it, trying to make myself believe that it was all in my mind. Then, from out of the breeze, I heard it. A low growl, like a dog if you will, NO, a wolf. Panic overtook me! I turned and made a dash for the porch, tearing up the stairs and reaching for the door knob. I could hear the sound of grass and dried leaves being encroached by huge claws as the beast bounded toward me. I flung open the door, swiftly closing it behind me, I bounded up the remaining stairs, two, no three steps at a time, bursting threw my apartment door and securing it with the locks, I threw myself upon the couch, waiting for my impending doom. Seconds, minutes, perhaps hours went by. NOTHING! I had yet again survived another night to continue my life's goal of proving the existence of the lycanthrope!

The next day, I sat in the bench by the front window, smoking a cigarette, pondering what had happened the night before. Who could this terrible monstrosity be? I glanced down at the street below me and noticed my neighbor walking by, as he so did every day that I had lived there, carrying his paper bag. This was not a new sight to me. But today seemed different. I looked at his bewhiskered face, hair flourishing from his cheeks back to meet the shaggy mane of hair upon his head and then advancing downward to his chin. His gaze slowly turned to me and his eyes caught mine only for a second, but that is all it took. At that moment I knew! I quickly slipped behind the cover of my curtains. "What does he keep in that bag?" I thought. "Where does he go everyday with it?"

The next night I had some of my friends over. I proceeded to tell them of my close encounter a few nights before and of my theory that my neighbor was an abomination,........A WEREWOLF!

Some of my friends scoffed at the idea, mocking me. Others just found the story amusing and had a good laugh. But I was not going to let this deter me from my calling. After awhile, my friends came up with the brilliant plan to make a short film. I grabbed my video recorder and we headed out the door to The Grove, a local park up at the top of the hill. They had thier ideas of going to do something fun and amusing, but I had other plans. I was hoping to capture the beast on film, finally proving thier existence. As we walked to the park, we had to pass by HIS house. Parked right in front of the eerie abode, was a van with the word "butcher" on the side of it. Now I had never really noticed this van before, I knew that my neighbor nor none of his clan were of the meat cutting profession, so I wondered quitely to myself "Why would a butcher be visiting someone at 11 o'clock at night?" I mentioned this to the others only to be shrugged off once again.

We continued that night to make our "mockumentary" on werewolves, but without any real proof for me to cling too.

The following night, I sat and stared out my back window at thier house. I watched as the butcher van, once again, pulled in front and as a direful looking man exited the driver's side and knocked on the door. The paper bag man slowly opened the door, looking to the left and then to the right as if to see if the butcher had been followed. He quickly gestured for the butcher to enter.

My mind begin to reel with thoughts. "Maybe this goes alot deeper than I could have ever imagined? Could it be a whole family of quadrepeds living within this house? And what of the butcher? Is he one too, there to help them with the portioning of last nights kill?"

I was about to give up, when suddenly the door opened again, and out walked the butcher carrying not one but four of the exact same paper bags, followed by a rabid looking woman ( whom I believe to be the mother werewolf, at least of that household) carrying four bags herself. They proceeded to pack the bags into the back of the van and the woman quickly returned to her home without saying a word as the man pulled away in the van as if he was off to deliver the slaughter to the elderly werewolves that can not game their own meals no longer or perhaps to the single mother werewolf that had to skip a night of hunting due to junior dingos terrible fever.

I was terrified! I kept thinking how I did not want a part of this no more. I continued to see the butcher appear on many nightly occasions after that, but I continued to cower in my apartment, dreading what might happen if I exposed myself as knowing the truth.

It has been years since I have lived there, but I still live quite close to that town and I often wonder how many more people must vanish before someone else uncovers the thruth. I still occasionaly see the paper bag man in a bar I frequent, sitting across from me, unshorn as always, drinking his beer, with his paper bag sitting right in front of him. A friend of mine once told me, while at the bar, in a slightly drunken state of mind, she mentioned to the man about the possiblity of him bieng a werewolf. She said he just glared at her for a second, only to bellow a queer laugh that brought shivers to her spine.

One of these days I will do it! I will get the nerve to get one of those bags and actually see what is inside. It may be horrible, it may not! But I am destined to know the truth!

I once looked into a cheerleaders' eyes and what did I see...Not a damn thing...blank...hello is anyone there? Souless. That was scarey! Stay in school kids!