Kill! Slaughter! Maim!

Kill! Slaughter! Maim!--Track 01

This is a fairly recent occurrence, and I do mean recent, as in it happened a few minutes ago, and I am typing up its strange events as I go along. You might want to keep that in mind, anyway, as the title probably tells you, this is a problem with some altered tracks. While most stories often have their roms and things downloaded from the internet, or mysterious files, mine are not.

My iPhone contains many things, and many apps, but I have quite a bit of music. Some, is music downloaded from the Internet, some of the music is from my collection of CDs, most of it is from Itunes.

Now I may seem like I’m contradicting myself, but I am not. One day, this day, I was listening to my iPhone, enjoying my array of tunes, when I heard something odd. Glancing at my iphone, I noticed the song was scratching and flipping like it was stuck. The thing was, it was the only app open, and the bar was still moving along at the same rate. The song cut off a few seconds before its original ending, and there was an odd scraping noise and static at the end of the song. While I do have a few songs with odd noises purposely in them like Daddy Daddy from The Hills Have Eyes Soundtrack and A Thankless Job from the Repo! soundtrack, I assure you that a new-day pop artist on my pop list would not have such odd noises, particularly P!nk.

Shaking my head, I thought to myself, that perhaps, when I had transferred the song from my CD to the laptop to the phone, that another file had some how got mixed into my files. An hour later, one of my songs cuts off 20 seconds early and is replaced with scraping noises, and this time a voice. I can faintly make out “Sh*t...don’t want to…what the f**k.”

Vile words, and not fitting with the song. The song was straight from my CD as well, and had nothing like that. Though the artists did cuss, this was one of their better songs where the usual lyrics were about equality and happiness. I wrinkled my nose at the thought, and wondered if the songs were connected somehow.

As I kept listening to songs, reading a fanfiction, I swore one of my songs was running extra slow. Checking my phone, the bar was moving at the same rate, but the song was lagging. It was by a before mentioned artist, but the song was usually fast and peppy. It seemed dark and twisted, and not in a good way. I skipped the song, and resumed listening, to find the same problem with the next song. It again was a happy song, from one of my most beloved movies, and it only seems fitting I tell you the song (Banana Boat Song or Day-O). It had slowed down almost drastically to the point where it stopped. The bar kept moving, and more scraping noises were heard. This time the words were… “Stop or he’ll come…f**k...stop…”

I was irritated at that, and a slight bit scared. I mean, that wasn’t what you wanted to hear when listening to pleasant music. So, naturally, I did the smart thing. I closed out of the Music app. Putting aside my phone, I turned to my Youtube playlist for music.

Now don’t be expecting me to say “Youtube turned horrific and horrible and some video popped up of somebody having their head cut off,” because of other than telling you that’s not going to happen, I will not say anything like that. No, like I said, it was another file on my computer that wrote over my songs when I was transferring them. I was sure of it, because, that's logical.

I suppose, I should tell you I got my laptop from a family friend who (most likely as a criminal) stole it from somewhere and its dated back to being used in 2006. The year is 2013, and I got it at the beginning of October, so...yes, it may have files on it.

I listened to music on Youtube for awhile, when my Media player popped up, like it does when I listen to files on my computer. I exited it, and assumed that I hit a wrong combination of buttons, but it did not let me exit it. Annoyed, but computer savvy, I opened Task Manager.

It didn’t show Media Player running, so I figured it was a glitch. I went to the the programs, and searched to see what was using the computer, and found nothing. So I ignored the window, figuring it was a glitch and it wasn’t running, but had a delayed exit.

Then, the file started playing. It was only a track, so there was no video. It had a name, 11-9-12-12 19-12-1-21-7-8-20-5-18 13-1-9-13. Yes, very creative, but I listened, deciding if it was interrupting my progress on my story, it was worth listening to.

There was static, and then more scraping and scratching noises. Some of speech is unintelligible, so forgive me, but this is my translation of what was said.

“...Second...ime (time, rhyme, lime, I’m?)...ill...daughter...aim…”

More static, and what sounds like crackling.

“Lul...fought her…mm.”

Slowly, the static faltered out and it became more intelligible.

“...Victim...you...doom...die…el...slot...ey”

Again, less scratching and static.

“New victim...may...you are doomed...die...ill...father...im”

This time, I regretted having headphones in.

“NEW VICTIM I MADE YOU, YOU ARE DOOMED TO DIE! KILL! SLAUGHTER! MAIM!”

I yanked the earbuds out of my ear, and immediately tried to exit the file. No face popped up, to my great surprise (and relief), but I was still frightened. I can recall the grating of the voice. Immediately, I did a file search, I had to delete this file, and not just recycle it, but utterly delete it.

It popped up in results, as well as a text file. I deleted the file and then deleted it permanently in the recycle bin. Sighing, I opened the text file that came with it.

“Did you like my message, I know you’ve heard it to be here? Did you delete it, you better not have? Why? Because then that’s mean. It was only a joke...a cruel...mean joke. Right? You’re laughing aren’t you. Laugh! It’s only a joke. The same way murder is only a joke, right? The police just don’t get it, do they, they don’t see the humor. They don’t see what’s funny. IT’S FUNNY, WHY AREN’T THEY LAUGHING! WHY! WHY! LAUGH! LAUGH! OR ELSE YOU’LL SEE HOW SHORT LIFE REALLY IS!”

I swear, my face turned as pale as a ghosts. I started laughing hysterically, nervous, fear building in my stomach. I deleted the word document as well, and powered down my laptop.

…

At the moment I’m typing this on my desktop computer, and who knows, that may be the end, or it may not be. Come to think of it, why is murder illegal, why can’t we just kill someone. It’s funny, blood coming out of her mouth as I stab her repeatedly, it’s all a joke. Her life fading from her, and its beautiful, a beautiful joke. She didn’t deserve to live, because she couldn’t take any humor, she couldn’t laugh at my jokes. I’m funny, this is funny, everythings funny! This life is a joke, especially with those idiotic Senate members and House members, burn the president, burn him to the ground. KILL! SLAUGHTER! MAIM! WHY AREN’T YOU LAUGHING? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!--------

The Stuffed Tiger

Oh good lord, this is the last Creepypasta of the night... "Yawn" Let's see, where's the story, oh here it is. Who out of my school went through (or alledgedly did) this? Oh, me; what's this story?  Oh...God, I remember, yes, God, yes. This was either real, or I have a very vivd imagination. Hmm, let's get to this.

...

My dad bought me a tiger for a Christmas years ago, a stuffed one, mind you. I was probably seven, I think. Yes, somewhere in there. The tiger, was frightening, a mother tiger. He had carried out the gigantic tiger stuff animal in a bag presented to me. He gave a lion head to my brother, and an iPod to my mother.

In later years, I find out that he stole the tiger, but at the time, I was happy to get a stuff animal as big as me.

Anyway, the tiger, since it was the same size as me, scared me. It's yellow eyes glared at me all the time. When I was little, I would stuff it under my bed to keep it away from me, but it was a nice stuff animal.

As I entered middle school, I would lie with stuff animal. Sometimes it was a nice comfort, and that continued into highschool.

Sometimes, when I was dressing and undressing, I would turn around to find the discarded stuff animal, still over half the size of me, staring at me. Somedays, it made me feel fear, others, it made feel exposed. I always told myself it was just a stuff animal, it cannot do anything.

These occurrences kept happening over the years I had it. One day I had woke up, and begun to dress, dancing a little to a song I love, and I thought I heard laughter, male laughter. Turning, I surveyed my basement room to find no one there. It must have been my imagination, for only my mother and I lived in this house. The rest of the day, I swear I could still hear laughter.

Another day, I came home, after a rough day of drama and heartbreak to collapse, snuggling up to my stuff animal. I tucked my head onto the tiger's chest, and it's head somehow found itself in the crook of my neck. Almost, humanly, I swore I felt warm breath on my neck. At first I ignored it, but then I swore I felt a tongue on my neck. Jerking backward, I stared at my stuff animal, to find it...a stuff animal.

That night the tiger had gone on the couch.

More odd occurrences had happened, especially when I had friends over. One night I had thrown my stuff animal on the ground to make room for my friend, since I didn't want her to sleep on the ground. When I woke up, my friend was on the ground, the stuff animal in its place, and she complained I pushed her off, and pulled the stuff animal back on. All I had been doing was sleeping, butshe insisted I did it. Another time, my friend and I had been watching a movie, and she was casually leaning on my tiger. Halfway through the movie, she jerked up, claiming that something had bit her. There were no marks on her arm, but the only thing near her hand was the tiger.

I guess over the years, the stuff animal, was like another human. Still, I keep it on my bed, with my arms wrapped around it snugly. Sometimes, things like stated occur, but I still keep it there. Sometimes in the night, I swear I hear these words.

"You're mine, mine only."

Whispered, with a rough voice. The tiger still is on my bed this very moment, but as a last parting, I'll recall the worst memory of myself with the tiger.

It was after a school day, and I needed a hug. My mom was out running errands, and I just lay with the tiger reading books. Bored reading, I ended up closing my eyes, and hugging the stuff animal, feeling sad that it would not provide warmth of a human. Yet, I swear I felt the warm breath again, and the heartbeat, but I dismissed it as a lonely girl's overactive imagination, but as the day grew till night, it turned weirder.

"Mine, mine, mine, you are mine. Relax and let me take you." It kept repeating over and over, and I ended up relaxing, my mind going blank.

I must have fell asleep, but in my dream, the tiger stuff animal moved as a real tiger would, but it was still distinctly stuffed. It beckoned me with its head, and I followed it, as it walked through a forest, and I ignored the surroundings. It was almost to a clearing that I could not see what lay in it, but I was on the verge of following when I heard my cat meow. Distracted from the alluring eyes of the tiger, I looked around and saw the dead bodies of many, many children, many adults, just many people. They were all horribly mutilated, and the tiger beckoned me to ignore them and follow.

"They weren't mine, I told them so, but you are mine. You gave me my second chance."

My cat's meow, caused me to turn again, seeing the bodies, and many more things. I heard my mothers voice as well, telling me to wake up. The tiger looked angered, it growled and leaped in the direction of the voices. I woke up, and my mom hovered above me.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

I remember assuring her I was, and in later months, I was helping her out, and noticed three scars on her back, like claw marks. I asked her what it was, and traced them out for her, but she didn't know. I examined my own cat, and found she to had a scar like of a very big cat's claw on her side.

I tried to blow it off as just a cat fight scar, but when I examined my stuffed tiger, I found that wasn't the case.

My stuffed tiger's paws were stained with blood, and there was a tear in it's stitching as if another animal had ripped its leg open. I sewed it up, thinking it my own clumsy fault, but the dream still haunts me, as well as the reminders. I swear the stench of blood hasn't disappeared from its paws.

...

What did this tale hold, well it held a stuffed tiger stolen for a Christmas present that through years of pouring emotion into the tiger it either attracted the attention of a demon or a ghost. The tiger's dead victims are, but those who have been corrupted, and dirtied their souls without thought. The warning, as all creepypasta's have them, is a stolen gift is not one to be kept, for it was taken in greed and will possess the emotion of greed only.

Smart=Psychopathic

From: High School (Rumors fresh off the grill)

It was rumored that there's a curse on any girl percussionists who try to stay all four years. I mean, can anyone actually recall a time when there was a senior lead percussionist who was female and led the drumline...no. So, it was told that any girl who was a percussionist and drumline memeber would quit before highschool or would mysteriously stop. As a disbeliever of cliche's, I ignored this. Now, natrually, with 3 years left till this dead line, and already a chance I'll be going to live in a KC suburb, I'll redirect my attention to a different one called the 'Psychopath.'

There's this old legend that one of the smartest kids always turns into the psychopath. I personally didn't believe that till she (A) changed. I won't give her name away, since she actually is connected to this blog. Anyway, she had to be a pretty smart kid, used to cry a lot, used to get real emotional, but she was smart. She used to hold grudges easily, get upset easily, and rely on only one friend, and I guess, that we all wished for her to change.

It isn't like she was a bad person, but all that stress, all that crying drove us all nuts. Then, around 7th grade, second semester, she started to change. I, personally, think it was due to (J). He was perverted, and taught her the meaning of a lot of words she didn't even know, like the girl didn't know what 'rape,' 'moleost,' 'bastard,' and 'f***' meant. Since he used them on a daily basis, he had to explain them to her. The counselor recommended she do a sport, she chose Track, and then we all hoped she would mature and become less like a crybaby.

We got our wish I guess.

When 8th grade hit, everything was different. She had developed different tastes and was mature. There was no more fights in Band, no more crying. I witnessed someone call her a mean name and she just laughed at them. It was a miracle. She improved in Track, because she was kinda sucky at first, and did long distance. She could be perverted, and understand most everything perverse. Yet, she wasn't open, and still relied on only one person.

I guess, it was not everything we wanted, so we asked for another miracle.

Suddenly, her and her friend had a falling out, due to a bizarre personality change in A. It was really strange, considering she was really close to her friend. When A talked about movies, they no longer were just the innocent (or not so) of Beetlejuice, but extended to some of the more gross horror movies. Natrually, a few of us were a little creeped out. I was one of the ones, who hadn't noticed the changes during 8th grade, but now that I think about it, she was changing then, laughing at people's misery, often joking in a dark fashion, and we blew if off as just her method of dealing with stress.

As the Freshmen year kicked off, A was a bit shy, but then another personality change must have hit her, because she became social, and strangely open about all her ideas. She would tell people about her visions of killing people. I was a bit disturbed, but we all talked about it behind her back, and decided she was going through a phase.

Sadly, this 'phase' didn't die out, but mutated into something worse. Suddenly, she would sometimes clench her fists in class, when people pissed her off. She would tell the nearest friend, that if--God bless her--whoever it is that was bugging her didn't stop, she would murder them. Sometimes that was followed by a very detailed description of how she would kill that person.

Now, it was hard to ignore. Sometimes she would stare off, and when we stirred her out of it, she would just start smiling. Her grades were as good as ever, still all A's perfect and she always knew the answer. Despite her murderous attitude, she started making friends with some of the more popular kids, giving us hope that this was an effort at attention...it didn't stop though.

Rather than just write these scenes, she began to draw them, and give people her writings and drawings as 'presents.' It wasn't a gift though, it was a curse. Some of us, found her amusing, other of us (including me) were growing wary, not knowing how to take her sudden bouts. She became peppy about her detailed descriptions, like some type of "I'm going to kill you" cheerleader. Everyone once in a while, ever since--who the heck supplies her with these horror movies--she watched House of 1000 Corpses, she would cheerfully shout "Run Rabbit Run" and if you didn't run, she would get incredibly cheerful and really rough with her actions. When you did run, she would chase you, but, thanks to the person who suggested she take Track & Cross Country (are we trying to make her a psychopath that can kill us all) she would always catch you.

She became sadistic with this, and sometimes just plain cruel. Teacher's still think she's perfect, all A's, always questioning basic beliefs with creative answers, what's not to love. She tried so hard in every subject, and even when her creep factor spilled into her school work, she would still pull through as a favorite.

Sometimes, you wanted to envy her, but I guess we have to hope that we're not nutring a psychopath, I think she's still partly normal.

She has a crush on a boy, but the weird thing is, her reason for it. She said she liked the way he thought, his personality, his aura. Odd, but the guy was a bit of a jerk and not hot, but she liked him. She still strived to fit in with some groups, and improve at somethings, but then again, if you read what she writes and what she draws, then we're harboring a psychopath.

Here's a rough excerpt of some of her writing, copied from where she wrote it on a piece of paper.

She ran, her breaths coming out short and fast, not used to exercise such as this. Clutching her stomach, she ducked around the corner, starting to wish that she exercised more and stayed in shape. I took my slow sweet time following her, calculating how long before she reached the dead end, how long before she was trapped. There was so many things I wanted to do to her to make her pay, and I wasn’t going to stop till the light from her eyes disappeared and her blood soaked the tiles. She may be a mom, a person with a life, but there was only so much you could say to me before I got mad.

“Run rabbit, run” I muttered under my breath, quoting Rob Zombie. Unlike his movie, I was real, and I loved the chase. The pounding of feet desperate to get away. She was a fat, heavy bunny, who wasn’t going to get away, no, she wasn’t. I would let her run after each hit, let her get weaker, let her get desperate and scared, pleading, begging. I would enjoy watching her suffer.

For fun, I put on a burst of speed, and rounded the corner, crowbar in hand. Swinging it, I bashed her in the gut, and watched her double over, a bruise probably forming. There was a small cut, blood coming from it already... pity. She shrieked her, scream like a banshees, I swung again in the same place, her cry of pain softer this time.

“Shut up you f*****’ b****” I shouted, swinging the crowbar again, striking her in the leg. I wanted her to get up and run, so I could hunter her down, watch her fear, but she just collapsed to the ground. Angered, I pulled out a knife.

“RUN, you f***** stupid rabbit, RUN, before I stab you to death!” She pulled herself to her feet, crying, and I had no regret. Mascara ran down her cheeks and blood from the gashes, but I smiled at her.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice faint. “What did I do wrong?” She stared at me, big gray eyes pleading, asking for mercy.

I buried the knife into her stomach and leaned in close, my mouth next to her ear.

“Nothing, I just want you dead.” I whispered.

Pulling out the knife, I proceeded to have some art time. Might as well carve some pretty pictures for people to see on her, since she’s so damn ugly, so damn ugly on the inside and out. Maybe people needed to see her insides, maybe people needed me to cut her open and show them her insides.

She was still alive, I knew my strike did nothing to kill her. With all that fat on her, it would take a while for the knife to reach a killing point, to reach one of her internal organs such as her kidney or liver.

I drew a kitty cat face lightly on her stomach, only mildly there, barely any blood. Kitty cats were cute, they were beautiful creatures who meowed and purred. This was only a waste of space who disrespected everyone and ate more in a single sitting then a child in Africa ate in a year.

That made me angry, she didn’t deserve a mouth, a tongue, she didn’t deserve those. Before the scream could come, I forced her mouth open and cut out that vile tool, and threw her tongue behind me. A gargled scream came from her mouth and I jammed the knife in her mouth, cutting her gums. Why wouldn’t she shut up, why did they never know to shut up!

Pulling out another knife from my belt, I decided she was going to die eating the words back she said. Rising off of her, as she had been knocked to the ground with my attacks, and its easier to sit on her and carve her up, I went to find her tongue.

Ah, here it is. Ew, there’s filth on it, how despicable. Oh well, I imagine she never had a clean mouth anyway. Walking back over, I noticed she had decided to try and crawl away. Her blood leaving a trail. She had removed the knife from her mouth, and still clutched it in her hand, pulling herself weakly.

I needed to stop her; I didn’t need her crawling away while I was working. Grabbing a bell-set, as my little chase had let me right outside the band room, fun. I dropped it on her knees. A gargled scream echoed down the long empty corridors, hitting lockers and traveling farther.

Much better, she no longer moved. Her eyes were watching me, fear heavy, absolute terror.

All the better to not see you my dear.

I stuck the knife she had grabbed weakly in her left eye, because I see better in my left eye, and I just felt like left eyes were fun to stick things in.

…

She was nearly dead, I guess all that blood loss was going to kill her.

Four knives in the mouth, and her tongue, heavens know she needed to eat her words, wer ein her mouth.

Satisfied, I walked away.

Here's the warning to you all, be careful of the smart ones, they might be on the border line of a psychopath...

4 Times to Many

Originally, I wrote a pasta a shitty one, that detailed how I had my phone possessed by demons and it centered around the game: Sims Freeplay. Ever since then, I have wrote 4 more pastas, probably better than my first one. That was where the harmless joking and laughter comes in.

Shortly after writing that, like...lets say a week or so, my Sims Freeplay game, began to glitch. Do you want proof, I'll show you proof.

This was the start of the glitch. I came home one day, after finishing that damned Christmas Misson, and found in place of one of my houses and a few of my Sims, this! The 3 elves from the mission, and everything is gone. I found that the Sim that lived there was deleted. My first thought was, I got hacked, but everytime the game crashed, more things would happen.

What's the difference you say? Well, for one, there are reindeer that weren't there before now there and two, she changed places with one of the others when there are no doors! I can't move these Sims, they aren't mine. Hell, I can't even interact with them.

This was the first week, here's what happened about four days  later.

 

The game crashes, and now any attempt to move that little boy out of the street results in a game crash. About a couple days after this happened, he was gone from the game completely. This little boy, was my creation, and thanks to the glitch, he was deleted. Go ahead, test this. Try to make your sim go in the street, the thing is, they aren't supposed to.

 

 

I decided, that I was going to attempt to kill these glitched Sims, since I can't demolish the house there in. I put a burning stove in the house, and...nothing happens.

 Day comes and these glitched sims, still ain't dead yet, and one of the reindeer have moved again. Normally they don't move. The sad thing is, I can't take on of them as pets.

The game experiences multiple crashes all the time, I come back one day and oh my god they're all standing in the house now, facing forward. I was freaked. Enough to delete a game I spent money on, hell to the no, but, nevertheless, I was freaked out.

When night came, these freaky little things all switched postitions again. They're still there, but, I've given up on deleting them. My friends think its funny. I've updated the game , but they still can't fix this damn bug for my sake. I once tried moving them to same house as someone else, and when I came back the next day, I found everyone in that house was deleted, but them, so, yeah, this is the worst glitch ever. Just some killer elves on the loose, Santa, you really should have taken them with you.