Horror Discussion Thread - Page 4

On February 20 2010 11:32 ieatkids5 wrote:
should add these to the op


A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed.
The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye. What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to.
This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.
At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, “Did you look through the keyhole?” The man told her that he had and she said, “Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red.”

On February 20 2010 11:32 ieatkids5 wrote:
should add these to the op

In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed.
She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She went to the police, who raided the address on the envelope, where they found heaps of human flesh for sale.
And what was in the envelope? “This is the last one I am sending you today.”


A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed.
The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye. What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to.
This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.
At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, “Did you look through the keyhole?” The man told her that he had and she said, “Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red.”

I check into small hotel a few kilometers from Kiev. It is late. I am tired. I tell woman at desk I want a room. She tells me room number and give key. "But one more thing comrade; there is one room without number and always lock. Don't even peek in there." I take key and go to room to sleep.

Night comes and I hear trickling of water. It comes from the room across. I cannot sleep so I open door. It is coming from room with no number. I pound on door. No response. I look in keyhole. I see nothing except red.

Water still trickling. I go down to front desk to complain. "By the way who is in that room?" She look at me and begin to tell story.

There was woman in there. Murdered by her husband. Skin all white, except her eyes, which were red.

I tell her I don't give a shit. Stop the water trickling or give me refund. She gave me 100 ruble credit and free breakfast.

Such is life in Moscow

On February 20 2010 11:49 PanoRaMa wrote:
Suddenly I now understand all of these stories even more:

http://www.rate.ee/blog/1000651

Soviet Creepypasta (thx carnivorous sheep)

On February 20 2010 11:46 DoctorHelvetica wrote:


The second one is one of my favorites and I thought I did add it. Oh well, added now.

Mother and father got a little tired from building Communism, so they want to go to Moscow to buy vodka. They call their most trusted babysitter. When the babysitter arrives, children already sleep in beds. Babysitter just sits around and make sure everything good with children. Later that night, babysitter gets bored and goes to read Marx, but she can't read it downstairs because there's no electricity (the parents didn't want children reading Marx all night long).

So, she calls them and asks if she can get candles to read Marx in their room. Of course, the parents say it's okay, but the babysitter has one final request... she asked if she could cover up the Lenin statue outside the bedroom window with a blanket or cloth, because it maeks her nervous.

The phone line is silent for a moment, and the father who says, "Take the children and get out of the house... we will call milita. We do not have an Lenin statue."

The militia found all three of the house occupants dead because KGB killed them for trying to cover Lenin's statue. And militia arrested parents for not having a Lenin statue.

Such is life in Moscow.

Toys are made by loyal factory for amusement of the children of the motherland.

Toys are of baby, and have realistic crying function.

Soon, it becomes difficult to distinguish baby and toy.

Both are burned for warmth.

Such is life in mother Russia

On February 20 2010 10:08 Hornett wrote:
The Graveyard Wager

A group of young girls were having a slumber party one night and began to exchange ghost stories. One girl claimed that the old man who had been buried earlier that week in the graveyard down the street had been buried alive. She claimed that if you tried you could hear him scratching at the lid of his coffin still. The other girls called her bluff and told her she was afraid to go there tonight. She eventually accepted their challenge and took a stake with her to drive in the ground to prove she'd been there. She headed off to the gravesite right away and never returned, the others assumed she had "chickened out" and went home ashamed. The next morning as they passed the graveyard they saw her there at the old man's grave. She had accidentally staked her nightshirt to the ground and died of fright.




Drinking & Driving

A man got home late from a night out drinking with the boys and staggered inside, his wife heard him and helped him into bed. The next morning she complained about his behavior and how she worried about how he makes it home so drunk. He agreed that he had no memory of the last few hours of his night out, but said he'd never had a problem before. As he pulled out of the garage to go to work, his wife was who had been watching him angrily from the front door screamed when she saw the little girl crushed into the grill of the car.