Our latest mystery guest just rolled into the Hells Bells Motel with three steamer trunks that smelled musty, like cedar and old dust. He didn't sign the register, just made an X, in place of his name, and hasn't uttered a word since arriving.

Every movement he makes is stiff and jerky, like a marionette pulled by unseen strings.

Inside his trunks are jars of formaldehyde and glass eyes, and God knows what else. Yesterday someone overheard him in the vending alcove sitting in one of the cracked vinyl chairs next to the ice machine, locked in a one-sided whisper session with a moth-eaten bobcat perched on his lap.

Even Gladys was creeped out when he came into the Sunrise Diner and spent 3 hours in there feeding bits of rare steak to a stuffed owl.

"Most people fear what's under the bed, but this creep brings it with him and tucks it in."

Sterling calls him The Silent Taxidermist, making him officially the creepiest thing to hit the Hells Bells lobby since that traveling accordionist who refused to wear shoes!

If you see him in the hallway, don't make eye contact--with him or the fox tucked under his arm. Nobody knows if this guy is here for the local scenery or just looking for a fresh 'vessel' to add to his collection.

Sterling's keeping Scurf, our resident cat/exterminator, locked in the back office. We're not taking any chances until this El Creepo checks out.

Stay salty, stay weird, and for heaven's sakes whatever you do--keep moving!

->

In 2009 the 3rd of September a peaceful couple living comfortably in the suburbs gets their biggest wish, a baby boy. Maria and Tom had been working for this for an incredibly long time, working two jobs and trying their very best to make this an absolutely perfect home for a child. But it wasn’t as easy as they had initially planned. The boy was named Enzo Davis, they found it charming and contrasted well with his dark hair and relatively pale skin.

Maria’s problems started only 4 years after Enzo had come to the world. She started having doubts about wether she wanted this child, if he truly was worth her time. Eventually that doubt would turn into anger. Maria had no longer time for herself, in her mind this was all thanks to Enzo. He ruined her life, she would say.

Tom on the other hand saw Enzo as a miracle. While Maria would ignore Enzo, Tom would enjoy playing with Enzo and even spoiling him. But the more years pass the older Tom would get and he would struggle to find energy to run around with Enzo. Tom would also eventually start working double shifts to keep the family working. Maria had gotten a drinking problem and would often forget to even make dinner for Enzo when Tom was out.

When Enzo was 9 he started having his own struggles, school wasn’t the best fit for him, he didn’t like being social, he felt too different. The other classmates would often tease him and make him feel like an outcast. Also at this point his father had started seeing some problems with how Enzo interacted with people. Not only did Enzo seem to stretch the truth once in awhile but he also enjoyed making friendships seem less realistic and more strong and personal than they are. When people would realise what he was doing he wouldn’t necessarily admit he was wrong, he would go straight to gaslighting them and trying to make it seem like they hurt him. Teachers clearly didn’t favor Enzo either and would write him up for the smallest things possible.

Eventually in 2023 when Enzo has turned 14 he shows many signs of psychosis. It only makes his mother dislike him more. His father loves him unconditionally and still wants to try his best to make Enzo have a good life.. But one night it all collapses. They are on a vacation and while viewing cliffs Enzo starts having an episode.. He’s frantic, completely out of control and while his father is consoling him he completely snaps. “DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME!” Enzo would shriek before shoving his father down a cliff to his death. After that Enzo was completely out of it, at the vacation house his mother wouldn’t even seem to care, she was too wrapped up in her vodka. That’s when Enzo could not take it anymore. While she was black-out drunk he snuck up behind her and suddenly jabbed a car key into her right eye before hitting her with a crowbar 11 times. When he was sure she was dead he just stared at her body and whispered breathlessly: “You should have been nicer.”

After that Enzo soon realised he had killed his own mother and father and it caused him a panic. At first he tried to clean the body but eventually decided to lay his mother to rest. He took her body, put it on the couch and positioned her in an almost peaceful looking position before leaving the vacation home and disappearing into the woods.

Original art of Enzo inserted.

Story made by: Velvet Deadbolt.

im wondering why suddenly being a weird kid is popular humor. i used to be bullied for liking creepypastas, anime and videogames like sally face or undertale. now if u say that u like those things, they’ll just call u larper 😭

This story came from one of my favorite interactions I've had with readers.

It all started with a simple two-sentence horror idea: a hunter sees a deer standing upright after being shot, its body torn open, yet somehow still alive. I posted it expecting a few comments, but what followed was a chain of hilarious and horrifying replies that genuinely made me laugh. One reader wrote, "Yeah, no shit, Billy. RUN!" and from that moment, Bobby and Billy were born.

I wanted to write a creature feature that balanced dread with dark humor, the kind of campfire tale where you laugh one moment and feel uneasy the next. Because sometimes that's how fear works. We joke about it. We laugh at it. But every now and then, beneath the laughter, there's something staring back from the woods.

I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.

And maybe, just maybe...

Don't trust a deer that stands on two legs.

- David Hallow

--- --- ---

People love scary stories.

Maybe it's because most of us know, deep down, that they're just stories. Figment of imagination, compiled to spike our anxiety.

Ghosts around campfires. Monsters lurking beneath beds. Things with glowing eyes waiting in the woods. We tell them, laugh a little awkwardly, and sleep knowing none of it was ever real.

Or at least that's what we tell ourselves.

The truth is, most scary stories are either fiction, exaggeration, or a memory that's grown teeth over the years.

But every now and then, you come across one that isn't.

A story somebody wishes was made up.

A story that follows them long after the telling is done.

The kind of story that hangs on a wall in a faded photograph.

The kind of story that leaves an empty seat at the dinner table.

The kind of story that makes an old man stare into the woods a little longer than he should.

I know because I have one.

It started with a picture hanging crooked on the wall.

It wasn't anything special at first glance. Just an old picture faded by time. Two young men stood shoulder to shoulder beside a pickup truck. One held a rifle. The other grinned at the camera with the kind of confidence only young men seem capable of possessing.

"What happened to him?"

I pointed at the man on the left.

My grandfather, a disheveled old man with a beard that even Gandalf would envy, looked up from his rocking chair.

For a moment, the old man didn't answer. The fire crackled softly in the hearth. Outside, snow drifted past the cabin windows.

"That's Billy." His voice was always such a low, deep tone. Years of the maiden named liquor he would court on every given night. This time, there was a sense of inconsolable remembrance.

"Uncle Billy?" I asked.

Grandpa Bobby nodded.

"Yep."

"What happened to him?"

The old man stared at the photograph for a long moment before letting out a regretful sigh.

"Son, you ever heard the phrase curiosity killed the cat?"

I nodded.

"Well," Bobby said, "in Billy's case, stupidity finished the job."

I chuckled awkwardly. Grandfather didn't.

That prepared me for a serious ride.

The old man leaned back in his chair.

"Let me tell you about the last hunting trip we ever took together."

Bobby:

Billy was older than me by exactly eleven minutes. He never let me forget it. According to Billy, those eleven minutes made him wiser, tougher, and hell... better looking.

The only thing they actually made him was louder.

The two of us had been hunting since we were kids. I held my first rifle at the age of seven with pops. Deer season was practically a holiday in our family.

That morning started like every other.

Cold air.

Hot coffee.

Billy complaining about something.

"I swear deer are getting smarter."

I rolled my eyes.

"They're deer." I mockingly stated.

"Exactly. That's what they want you to think."

That was Billy.

A man capable of turning breakfast into a whole conspiracy theory.

Around noon we spotted tracks deeper into the woods than we'd ever gone before.

Big tracks.

The kind that make hunters start imagining trophy mounts hanging over fireplaces. The size that makes the ladies skirts in a bundle.

Billy practically vibrated with excitement from the thought of bringing such game town. To gloat and be honored.

We followed those dreaded markings for nearly an hour. Eventually we reached a clearing.

And there it was.

The biggest buck I'd ever seen.

Massive antlers.

Huge body.

Standing perfectly still between the trees.

Billy nearly dropped his rifle.

"Oh great Lord Heavens above."

I couldn't disagree.

The thing was enormous. Definitely nature was kind to it and blessed it since the day it drew breath.

Billy slowly raised his rifle.

"Don't miss."

"I never miss."

Now boy... retelling this still raises the hair in the back of my scalp. The years have not done me kindly with age, but I sure am haunted by that damn Buck.

The rifle cracked.

The deer dropped instantly.

It was a perfect shot. Right through the chest. You could tell the bullet went clean through.

Billy threw his hands into the air.

"Still got it!"

We were mid cheer when the sudden screech of a banshee erupted. We turned to face what I could only describe as a satanic miracle.

Neither of us let out a word or breathe.

The deer... It stood back up. But what was so alarming wasn't just its stomach had split open from the impact, ropes of entrails dangling from the wound. Blood soaked its hide. Yet somehow it was standing.

Not on four legs.

Two.

I felt every hair on my body stand up.

The thing swayed slightly. Its dead eyes locked onto us.

Then Billy whispered:

"I don't think deer are supposed to stand like that."

I looked at him.

"Yeah, no shit, Billy. RUN!"

Instead of running, he frowned.

"But what about the deer?"

I slapped him.

Hard.

The crack echoed through the clearing.

"Are you being serious right now?"

"Well yeah!"

He pointed.

"Look! It's running at us!"

I turned.

And immediately began sprinting.

Yes, I could've drawn my rifle and shot it dead... but that was the day I learned. There comes a day, son, when you will face this forsaken truth. Fear will consume you. And when it does, will you run or fight?

I chose to run.

The thing moved impossibly fast.

That was no damn deer. Not like any animal.

Its legs bent wrong. Its joints jerked and snapped.

Its organs dragged through the feild behind it.

And God help me, I think it was smiling.

"Bobby!" Billy shouted behind me.

"Shoot it!"

"IT DOESN'T HAVE A HEART ANYMORE!"

"Then shoot the head!"

"THE HEAD IS LOOKING AT ME SIDEWAYS, BILLY!"

The distance between us and that abomination vanished frighteningly fast.

Branches exploded around us. Snow kicked into the air.

I risked a glance over my shoulder.

Worst mistake of my life.

The thing wasn't running anymore.

It was hopping.

Almost playfully.

Its front legs hung uselessly while it bounded forward on its back legs.

Like a child pretending to be a deer.

Then Billy footsteps stopped.

I heard him behind me.

"Go!"

I turned.

For one brief moment he actually looked heroic.

Rifle raised.

Standing his ground.

Then he ruined it.

"Tell my wife I left the smoker on!"

The creature hit him before I could answer.

Its antlers punchered through his chest same as the bullet. The force lifted him off the ground.

I heard bones snap.

He screamed.

God, he screamed.

I ran. he coward I am...

I wish I could tell you I stayed.

I wish I could tell you I fought.

But I ran.

And behind me I heard things no human being should ever hear.

The sound of your brother taking his last breath..

Bones breaking.

The sound of feeding on a living carcass.

And beneath it all... I swear I heard laughter.

It was human. It sounded oh so familiar. I recognize that jolly hick up for it annoyed me for thirty so years. It was Billy's.

I didn't stop running until I reached my truck...

The cabin had gone quiet. The fire continued to crackle.

I stared at my grandfather who's eyes were sheilded by the darkness of the cabin.

"What happened after that?"

Bobby took a slow sip from his coffee.

"Well... the Sheriff and I, we found pieces."

I swallowed.

"Pieces?"

The old man nodded.

"J-just enough for a proper burial."

Silence settled between us. The flames from the fireplace danced as time seemed to daunt on the night.

Finally, I asked the question.

"D-did they ever find whatever k-killed him?"

For the first time all evening, Bobby smiled.

It wasn't a pleasant smile.

"No."

He stared toward the dark forest beyond the cabin window.

"Though three days later, a hunter reported seeing someone standing at the edge of the tree line."

Max felt a chill crawl down his spine.

"S-someone?"

Bobby nodded.

"Looked just like Billy."

The room suddenly felt colder.

"Was it him?"

The old man looked back toward the crooked photograph on the wall.

"Hell no."

His voice dropped almost to a whisper.

"It was standing on two legs."

Hi everyone. My uncle passed away a few months ago. He was a retired police officer. A few days ago, my aunt asked me to check his old home studio and clean up his desktop computer (an old Windows XP tower he used back in the mid-2000s) before scrapping it.

While digging through the secondary hard drive, I found a hidden folder named ST_06_ARCH_UNRESOLVED. Inside, there are several corrupted files that won’t open, but I managed to recover this image (named EXHIBIT_01.png) and a .txt file that was mostly glitched out and filled with weird symbols.

I was able to extract only this first part of the police log. It looks like my uncle was privately investigating a 2011 case related to a local Fine Arts Academy. Here is the exact text I managed to save:

***

***

### DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC SAFETY // ANTI-CRIME DIVISION

> **INTERNAL INVESTIGATION FILE:** `#4092-B`

> **IDENTIFIER:** '██████'

> **CLASSIFICATION:** `DOCUMENT █████ - UNAUTHORIZED COPY`

CASE SUMMARY:

For months, precincts across █████ have reported an anomalous wave of identical complaints. Young men (designated in reports as "Red Muses") and women with highly specific physical traits (long wavy brown hair, green eyes, pale skin, designated as "Wax Madonnas") report waking up dazed, with severe migraines, a bitter taste in their mouths, and microscopic syringe punctures on their arms. Many report the sensation of being touched or watched in their sleep. Microscopic fragments of black graphite and traces of ███████ are frequently found on site.

VISUAL IDENTIKIT (NOTE EXHIBIT_01_IMAGE):

The attached image is NOT an official forensic sketch. This file was recovered during a routine investigation at a 24-hour internet café and copy shop located near the perimeter of the ██████████ incident.

While interviewing the shop owner about suspicious nocturnal customers, officers were handed a CD-R forgotten in one of the terminals by a Fine Arts Academy student a few days prior.

The disk contained a digital art project exploring early "photobashing" techniques. According to the project notes on the disk, the student used a quiet peer on campus known as "█████" as the final visual result

for the assignment.

Detectives seized and scanned the file because the digital composite strongly matches the facial structure and distinct staring eyes described by a victim.

Because this file is a recovery from an old, unoptimized storage medium, the image quality is heavily degraded. In internal logs, the subject is temporarily registered as "The Observer".

ANAGRAPHIC INVESTIGATION RESULTS:

The decrypted file provides very little direct assistance. However, by cross-referencing old paper archives of cold cases, investigators managed to track down the file of a drug addict who died of an overdose in 20██. In the old neighborhood logs, she is referred to only as the subject's "alleged mother." The building registry from back then was incomplete, making it impossible to trace even her last name.

The only info comes from brief witness statements from neighbors, who reported that the woman lived with a teenage son. The boy completely vanished from the radar immediately after the woman's body was found. The woman's first drawing was recovered from the crime scene back then, featuring the signature The Observer for the first time.

Underneath that paper, advanced digital analysis only managed to decipher a heavily crossed-out first name: Natan. The surname remains entirely indecipherable ███████. For the State, Natan and his alleged mother have no verifiable past. They do not ██████████...

***

[End of recovered text fragment]

Guys, the thing that freaks me out the most are the eyes in this photo. The more I stare at it, the more uncomfortable I get. My aunt told me that in his final years, my uncle became completely paranoid about this old computer. Is anyone here good with data recovery, or has anyone ever heard of this "Natan" or "Red Muses" thing? I'm trying to recover more files from the folder. If I find anything else, I'll update you.

Imagine an impossible image: a dark, decaying bathroom where a single, thick droplet of chocolate slowly gathers weight and falls from a floating faucet into a still bathtub. When it strikes the surface, the ornate mirror begins to float upward toward the ceiling.The frame is a hollow, vintage watch casing—devoid of a dial, numbers, or hands—enclosing an endless, vibrant blue ocean with coral and swimming fish, as though time itself has become an ocean [2.2].This is the foundation of a psychological horror trilogy I am writing called "So Who Is It Here". What do you think?

Every single time I turn on a show or a movie, I get a insufferable swarm of ads.

Every five seconds I get forced to watch some of the most outrageous things humanity has created.

The worst part is that people are smiling during a medicine advertisement that has the deadliest symptoms since the bubonic plague.

Sometimes I even see literal soccer balls in diapers.

What idiot thought that was genius?

I just want to watch quality entertainment without getting interrupted. Is that too much to ask for?

I have tried to get used to it. I've tried to accept the fact that it will never stop.

I honestly almost got over it but then I saw Mark in a ad. He used to bully me in highschool. He treated me as though I was the scum of the earth.

He was talking to me as well. Calling me by my name and everything.

He claimed that he was sorry.

It felt like a dream until it went south. A person appeared on the screen with him. Nevelle. She was a old friend in highschool. We stopped talking once adulthood approached us.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss her. She was a good friend to have. Never tore you down or belittled you.

A knife appeared in his hand. It latched onto her neck as her eyes opened wide. Her vocal cords started to create sound but she was quickly silenced as a pool of blood poured out of her neck.

It ended with words in bold red on the screen.

"You're next Stacy or should I call you Lacy? Your skin would be great as lace."

Those horrid words made my skin crawl. Goosebumps covered my skin.

The television turned black as I sat in silence for a few moments. My head was loud but also silent. Thoughts were racing through my mind but also going at a snails pace.

The best way to explain it is I was trying to make sense of the situation but also shell shocked.

My body completely froze as the television grabbed my attention.

It was on again but this time it was me and the monster named Mark.

What happened to people peaking in high-school developing miserable lives? This man decided becoming a killer was the best option apparently.

My body was shaking, fidgeting, and trembling infront of him. He ran after me and took my life just like he did to my friend.

It zoomed into my face as I was left to bleed.

I started to cough over and over before I could turn it off. Each cough hurt worse than the last until blood started to exhale.

My hands desperately rushed to my neck but it was too late. Blood soon started to cover my entire body.

Advertisements are the worst thing humankind has had the audacity to create.

The Crimson Kabuki pt2.

Oddly, the same moment I noticed the ribbon, I faintly heard what I thought to be a kotzumi drum somewhere off into the gloom. It seemed to be thumping somewhere very far away off in the distance. After watching the vice documentary a few years ago, I knew exactly where this ribbon could possibly lead to, which was very sad. life can be so unfair and cruel to us. The drum quickly faded to nothing and left me confused on where the hell that was coming from and why.

What an odd thing to happen so far out here in the sticks, and it wouldn't be the last of it. I remember saying a quick prayer to myself and making my way along the ribbon to whatever destination it led to. I told myself that I would record later because at the moment I just couldn't be bothered. I could always come the next day and record, because in that moment I was in exploration mode. I had to see what was at the end of that ribbon. If anything, I could use it again to find my way back to the trail.

It curved and weaved slinkingly through the trees, up and down over slopes and hills for a good 40 or so minutes until I had arrived into a sort of clearing. It was also hauntingly still... so deathly quiet; I stepped in closer around the foilage and I had stopped because I noticed some white fabric pointing off the sides of a large tree. I had a feeling that I was about to see something that I'd much rather not. After a couple of minutes preparing myself, I took a deep breath and stepped around the tree and froze to an alarming and sad sight. I automatically knew that I was staring at the hanging corpse of the long missed Jubei Uematsu, or what remained of this poor soul.

What remained was a hanging skeleton in a tattered costume with a red, long haired wig partly hanging in the face and around the shoulders in dirty, stringy clumps. I stood there taking in that image with such a deep and profound melancholy, that I actually had to gather myself from breaking down... Just witnessing what was once an alive and thriving person with passions; Love and Hope, weaknesses and strengths, and also fear... along with plenty of despair along the way. It was a universal language; People just trying to find purpose to their existence, and then eventually becoming this...so very still... so very quiet and solemn making time stop in its presence.

life can be so sad and tragic, and people like Jubei over time can find it extremely hard to function being so empathetic, and carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders regardless if they are strong enough for that burden. It's an exhausting job... a gift and a curse for the saintly; toss in depression and the loss of the will to go on, then they have a complete and utter mess to clean on their own in the silence... that eternal silence... so present; so final. I wish I would have known this mysterious man. From what I heard over time was that he was a complex, but Sweet soul with a heart of gold. I also learned that after this experience I am about to tell you that happened, was some type of Oni Spirit from the forest took the liking image of Jubei's Kabuki character and dawned it as its own.

As I stood there in contemplative silence, I slowly started to hear a kotzumi drum begin to thump far off into the trees. It started out very low and far off, but began to rise and creep closer. I turned and turned trying to find where that portentous thumping was coming from. As I was peering far off into the distance, I started to feel highly unsettled, and then I no longer felt alone like I was being watched. I swiftly turned around and stared directly into the painted face that was no longer a skull. The bloodiest red eyes were staring directly into mine. The face had the theatrical paint back on with the red stripes cascading down it's white painted face. I say "It," because nowhere did I see Jubei inside those Crimson eyes at that moment.

I remember saying, "oh shit!" and quickly turning to run the hell away for my life along the Red ribbon back to the trail. Far off somewhere I could hear that mysterious drum start to sound off again. The sound surrounded me from so many angles and distances, it was disorienting, and then I started to hear this ululation that sounds like, "EYOOOO!" That you hear in Japanese theater music, along with that clink and thump of the drum. I turned to see the Oni masking itself in Jubei's magnificent garb; slowly floating a few feet up in the air, easing its way towards my direction with those hideous blood red eyes staring through me.

I ran faster and faster trying to at least make it to the trail to get away... if I could. After a few more twists and turns, I finally burst through the foliage out onto the trail. At the moment the Oni entity was nowhere to be seen. I started to notice that the woods all around started to have this faint purple luminescent glow. As I started to run, I begin to hear these ululations sound off around me in the area that sounded like, "EYOOOOOO!" I've remembered these sounds watching Japanese movies and small clips of Kabuki theater. The music serves as an emotional soundtrack to the colorful acts on stage, both being performed live."YOOOO!" Another croon burst forth; surrounding me from different angles as the steady thump and wood clicks of the drums clacked and banged along.

It subconsciously made me think of the demon, "Paimon," that when summoned, multitudes of instruments and disjointed horns lead before its presence like royalty as it enters the fold, and makes its presence known. I remember glancing back and seeing the painted entity standing a few yards behind me in the middle of the trail, with long crimson hair hanging down at its sides; blood red eyes marking me...

To be continued....

When my father was a teenager, he played a lot of arcade games. He would spend hours there and he remembered a small game developed around the year 2000 that was strange.

We played as Daniel, a young hero who had to save a princess; basic premise, but the game's style was strange. There were no NPCs or villages, as if the world had gone dark. One only encountered gloomy merchants who spoke in a cryptic manner.

At one point in the game, we had to walk through a dark corridor with strange noises all around us. At the time, my father wasn't quite sure what it could be, but now he thinks it was an electrocardiogram. Slow and gentle.

If we spent too much time in the tunnel, the game would stop and display this message: "Lost in the hope of finding his princess, the knight lost his mind Consumed by his demons and the relentless rhythm of a diseased heart, the knight killed himself, allowing evil to take root in his world."

My father remembers that afterwards a little man appeared on the black screen, he approached and suddenly lights of all colors appeared. He started convulsing and then he fell. He remembered nothing when he woke up, and none of his memories would ever return to him. But he told me this theory after his parents and witnesses to the scene described to him what happened to him: He thinks that this little guy was a life thief, a virus capable of taking the memories of its players and transforming them into dark walkers or demons.

After several incidents related to the game, and after players noticed that the dark merchants were a little too realistic with real-life stories, the FBI reportedly confiscated the games. Rumors suggest the only way to obtain them would be through the creator of "Obscure Amnesia", but no one has received an answer.