The Creepy Thread
It was a few weeks ago that the hay bales started creeping slowly away from the house. Every morning when I woke up, each had moved a few hundred feet from where it was before. I assumed it was pranksters with nothing better to do, and I so I ignored it. Within a few days, though, the bales began to approach the boundaries of the farm. I was tired of the whole game by then, and decided to move them back. It took a tedious hour to bring them all from where they were to over near the house again, and by the time I was done I was ready to snap the neck of whatever little pissant was deciding to screw with me.
The next morning, I found each and every one of my horses messily decapitated. The smell was what woke me up. Each one was slumped over against the side of its stall. There were no signs of the heads. I spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess and burying the remains. It was only when I was done that I noticed the bales of hay had all returned to their positions from the day before, scattered far out into the fields. This time I left them where they were.
That night I sat on my porch with my shotgun in hand and a pot of coffee on the table beside me. I sat for hours, straining my eyes into the fields to catch a glimpse of who was moving my hay bales. Finally, I was beginning to nod off. I would have, but just as my eyes began to close I heard a clamor and a rustling of trees from the nearby woods. I leaned forward, my heart racing with excitement; I was going to catch the bastard. I fumbled with my gun and fidgeted in my seat, waiting anxiously for whoever it was to get close enough to ambush. It was only when the thing got close enough for me to make out its silhouette in the dark that I was frozen still. The thing that crept into my fields from the nearby woods didn’t seem to notice me sitting there. It stalked, hunched and deliberate, through the field with the posture of a tiptoeing thief. If not for the fact that it must have towered to over ten feet tall even in its crouched position, it might have seemed almost frail. The thinness of its arms and legs and the emaciated, caved-in quality of its chest reminded me of a starving animal. Still, this thing was undeniably strong, and I watched it hoist each bale up into its arms with ease, and set it down carefully a while away, taking only a few strides to cover the distance. I watched it work, moving each bale thoughtfully. Every once in a while it would straighten up to look around at the other bales’ positions in the field, before adjusting the one it was working on ever so slightly.
Before it left, it looked towards the house. I felt its eyes sweep over me in the dark, but whether it saw me or not I couldn’t tell. Then, it turned silently and crept back the way it came, disappearing into the dark of the woods. It took me an hour before I had the courage to move at all. I went inside after a while, but didn’t sleep that night. It was only when the sun rose that I dared step off my porch into the fields. The hay bales were where it left them. Strangely, it didn’t move them as far as it had in the previous days. They were approaching something invisible in the fields, and as I looked at them I realized that they seemed to be marking some line. Indeed, as I walked around the house, I saw the distinct circle that they formed with me at the center. At first I thought the bales were just being haphazardly moved away from the house, but now I could see that they were instead being moved towards some boundary. The thing was sending me a message. I slept uneasily that night, and only because I was exhausted.
The next morning the bales hadn’t moved at all. They didn’t move at all for the rest of that week, in fact. They were finally where the thing wanted them. I made myself sick trying to interpret them. Why would this thing expend so much energy moving my hay bales, and threaten me with such violence should I try to interfere? Killing my horses was just that – a threat. An intelligent threat, at that. It knew what would scare me, and it knew that I would understand the implications.
The sound of an automobile working its way along the road to my farm one morning gave me a little rush of excitement. I’d been planning to abandon the farm since I saw the thing, but I couldn’t hope to leave on foot without risking it treating me like it treated my horses. But, if I could get in the car with whoever was coming my way, I might be able to escape before it could stop me. I didn’t know or care who it was. I decided that the moment they stopped the car, I would jump in the passenger’s seat and tell them to get the hell out of here. I didn’t get the chance.
The car worked its way slowly along the road, trundling across the uneven ground. I urged it silently to hurry. It was when it passed between the two bales placed on either side of the road that I began to hear a booming clatter from the woods. The thing burst suddenly from between the trees, sprinting on all four of its terrible, gangly limbs towards the car. Within a few seconds it was there, pouncing on the automobile like a predatory cat. Within moments it was picking and peeling the vehicle’s steel frame apart, working to get at the driver. The man, whoever he was, screamed all the while and I could hear him even over the crunching of metal and the shattering of glass. It was only when the thing crushed him carelessly in its hand that the screaming stopped. It tossed him away, and straightened up to look at me once again. In the sunlight, I could see the inhumanity of it. It was composed entirely of something awful and alive which was lashed together in a messy semblance of a human form. Whatever it was made of looked so polished and hard, that if it weren’t for the minute writhing of the stuff, I’d think it was made of granite.
The thing retreated back into the woods, and I was left to my shock. My eyes wandered to where the car sat, the engine still sputtering, between two of the hay bales. Suddenly, I understood. The message was clear. I am this thing’s captive, and I am not allowed visitors. Nothing may cross the borders it has set. I’m trapped here, by the thing that stalks the fields, and it demands nothing except that I never leave. Still, I don’t know if I can handle being that thing’s canary. I’ve been thinking hard for the last few days since I saw it crush that man’s chest, and silence him before he could finish his scream. If I crossed the hay bale border, it’d probably do the same. It’d smash my skull before I could put my hands up to protect myself. It’d go and find a new pet, and probably keep looking until it found someone who could stand knowing that it was waiting just outside, watching it at all hours with its shiny, cold eyes.
I’ve been thinking hard for the last few days, and I might just make a run for it...
It was a few weeks ago that the hay bales started creeping slowly away from the house. Every morning when I woke up, each had moved a few hundred feet from where it was before. I assumed it was pranksters with nothing better to do, and I so I ignored it. Within a few days, though, the bales began to approach the boundaries of the farm. I was tired of the whole game by then, and decided to move them back. It took a tedious hour to bring them all from where they were to over near the house again, and by the time I was done I was ready to snap the neck of whatever little pissant was deciding to screw with me. The next morning, I found each and every one of my horses messily decapitated. The smell was what woke me up. Each one was slumped over against the side of its stall. There were no signs of the heads. I spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess and burying the remains. It was only when I was done that I noticed the bales of hay had all returned to their positions from the day before, scattered far out into the fields. This time I left them where they were. That night I sat on my porch with my shotgun in hand and a pot of coffee on the table beside me. I sat for hours, straining my eyes into the fields to catch a glimpse of who was moving my hay bales. Finally, I was beginning to nod off. I would have, but just as my eyes began to close I heard a clamor and a rustling of trees from the nearby woods. I leaned forward, my heart racing with excitement; I was going to catch the bastard. I fumbled with my gun and fidgeted in my seat, waiting anxiously for whoever it was to get close enough to ambush. It was only when the thing got close enough for me to make out its silhouette in the dark that I was frozen still. The thing that crept into my fields from the nearby woods didn’t seem to notice me sitting there. It stalked, hunched and deliberate, through the field with the posture of a tiptoeing thief. If not for the fact that it must have towered to over ten feet tall even in its crouched position, it might have seemed almost frail. The thinness of its arms and legs and the emaciated, caved-in quality of its chest reminded me of a starving animal. Still, this thing was undeniably strong, and I watched it hoist each bale up into its arms with ease, and set it down carefully a while away, taking only a few strides to cover the distance. I watched it work, moving each bale thoughtfully. Every once in a while it would straighten up to look around at the other bales’ positions in the field, before adjusting the one it was working on ever so slightly. Before it left, it looked towards the house. I felt its eyes sweep over me in the dark, but whether it saw me or not I couldn’t tell. Then, it turned silently and crept back the way it came, disappearing into the dark of the woods. It took me an hour before I had the courage to move at all. I went inside after a while, but didn’t sleep that night. It was only when the sun rose that I dared step off my porch into the fields. The hay bales were where it left them. Strangely, it didn’t move them as far as it had in the previous days. They were approaching something invisible in the fields, and as I looked at them I realized that they seemed to be marking some line. Indeed, as I walked around the house, I saw the distinct circle that they formed with me at the center. At first I thought the bales were just being haphazardly moved away from the house, but now I could see that they were instead being moved towards some boundary. The thing was sending me a message. I slept uneasily that night, and only because I was exhausted. The next morning the bales hadn’t moved at all. They didn’t move at all for the rest of that week, in fact. They were finally where the thing wanted them. I made myself sick trying to interpret them. Why would this thing expend so much energy moving my hay bales, and threaten me with such violence should I try to interfere? Killing my horses was just that – a threat. An intelligent threat, at that. It knew what would scare me, and it knew that I would understand the implications. The sound of an automobile working its way along the road to my farm one morning gave me a little rush of excitement. I’d been planning to abandon the farm since I saw the thing, but I couldn’t hope to leave on foot without risking it treating me like it treated my horses. But, if I could get in the car with whoever was coming my way, I might be able to escape before it could stop me. I didn’t know or care who it was. I decided that the moment they stopped the car, I would jump in the passenger’s seat and tell them to get the hell out of here. I didn’t get the chance. The car worked its way slowly along the road, trundling across the uneven ground. I urged it silently to hurry. It was when it passed between the two bales placed on either side of the road that I began to hear a booming clatter from the woods. The thing burst suddenly from between the trees, sprinting on all four of its terrible, gangly limbs towards the car. Within a few seconds it was there, pouncing on the automobile like a predatory cat. Within moments it was picking and peeling the vehicle’s steel frame apart, working to get at the driver. The man, whoever he was, screamed all the while and I could hear him even over the crunching of metal and the shattering of glass. It was only when the thing crushed him carelessly in its hand that the screaming stopped. It tossed him away, and straightened up to look at me once again. In the sunlight, I could see the inhumanity of it. It was composed entirely of something awful and alive which was lashed together in a messy semblance of a human form. Whatever it was made of looked so polished and hard, that if it weren’t for the minute writhing of the stuff, I’d think it was made of granite. The thing retreated back into the woods, and I was left to my shock. My eyes wandered to where the car sat, the engine still sputtering, between two of the hay bales. Suddenly, I understood. The message was clear. I am this thing’s captive, and I am not allowed visitors. Nothing may cross the borders it has set. I’m trapped here, by the thing that stalks the fields, and it demands nothing except that I never leave. Still, I don’t know if I can handle being that thing’s canary. I’ve been thinking hard for the last few days since I saw it crush that man’s chest, and silence him before he could finish his scream. If I crossed the hay bale border, it’d probably do the same. It’d smash my skull before I could put my hands up to protect myself. It’d go and find a new pet, and probably keep looking until it found someone who could stand knowing that it was waiting just outside, watching it at all hours with its shiny, cold eyes. I’ve been thinking hard for the last few days, and I might just make a run for it...
The digital clock humming quietly on my nightstand was the only sound that my ears could pick up from my surroundings. The night was dead quiet.
I knew he was there.
Right on schedule, he would be standing outside my window. He would knock. I, for reasons I wish I could explain, would open the blinds. He would stare at me, and I would stare at him. He would leave soon after, and I would stay awake until the sun began to rise. This was our routine.
My mind was wandering a thousand miles away when he first knocked, though my eyes had stayed lingering on the window. I told myself that I wouldn't open the blinds. I told myself that tonight, he wouldn't scare me and that I would get the rest I desperately needed. He knocked twice more. I held a pillow over my head and began humming an old song I used to sing in elementary school. He knocked again, and this time, he had done it a lot less courteously than he had in the past. It had become a loud thumping noise.
I threw the pillow off of my head and opened the blinds. His pale, wrinkly face leered in at me. His lifeless, black eyes, that shone despite their darkness, peered into my own. His stringy hair fluttered a little in the wind.
He seemed to be breathing harshly, and though it was hard to determine his mood as anything other than emotionless, I could sense an amount of animosity I had never felt before.
After what seemed like hours, he turned around and was on his way. I faced the ceiling and wept.
This had been going on for more than a month. I had tried to talk to others about it, but I could never finish my sentences. They'd always degrade into quiet mumblings and whimpers.
I was so tired, and I had even begun to wonder if I was losing my mind. I had tried sleeping pills, but even they couldn't help me sleep through the night. The weirdest part is that I always woke up about five minutes before he knocked. I knew, instinctively, that he would be there. I was so tired.
The next night, I told myself that under no circumstances would I look out the window. I didn't even care if he was on the verge of breaking the glass, I would not give him what he wanted. I would not feed him. He would have to find someone else to terrify. He would have to leave me alone.
I woke up, and I instantly knew what was going to happen. It's funny, I was anticipating his knocks, and yet I still jumped a little when I finally heard him.
I laid in my bed quietly, as if I hadn't heard anything. He knocked again, and I hid under the pillow once more.
He knocked again, more loudly that he had the night before. I whimpered, but remained under the pillow.
He knocked twice more, and after that, things got quiet. I no longer had the feeling I was being watched. I pulled my head out from under my pillow, and slowly looked out the window.
Nothing, just my backyard.
I laughed. I laughed so hard that little tears began to slip out of my eyes. He was somebody else's problem now.
I looked at the clock, and noticed I had only been awake for fifteen minutes, and turned over to go back to sleep.
I had just gotten to that area where dreams begin to mingle with reality, when I heard the distant click of a door opening. My backdoor.
Someone had entered into my house from the outside. Something from my backyard.
I knew it was him.
I listened quietly as his footsteps made their way from my kitchen, to my dining room, to the short hallway outside of my bedroom. He was walking slowly, patiently, and was not attempting to hide his presence at all.
He was right outside my bedroom door.
He knocked on my door, and I almost vomited. I wanted to do something, anything. I was paralyzed with fear.
He knocked again. Trembling, I pulled the pillow back over my head. All that could be heard was the sound of weeping, knocking, and a digital clock humming quietly to itself.
I was so tired.
@turoksonofstone said:
O_O what's creepy about that?
@King Saturn said:
@.Mistress Redhead. said:nah... just crazy@King Saturn said:
crazy stuffare they too scary? >.<
I wish people would post spoilers lol
That one isn't so much creepy as awe-inspiring, pretty sure that is the largest fish display in the world with several Whale sharks included.
To stand directly in front of it might indeed invoke some fear..
@turoksonofstone said:
@.Mistress Redhead.: That one isn't so much creepy as awe-inspiring, pretty sure that is the largest fish display in the world with several Whale sharks included. To stand directly in front of it might indeed invoke some fear..
oops wrong account
I can see what you mean, its supposed to be awesome, always wanted to go there.. but part of me feels its kinda cruel to keep creatures of that size in such a small space.. even though its HUGE
@turoksonofstone said:
@.Mistress Redhead.: Agreed, I think it is very cruel.
They are well kept and all, but they deserve much bigger spaces.
Anyone here ever experience something terrifying or witness the supernatural? I have on one such occasion. One night it was storming bad, and the power went out in my house so my familly all huddled up in the living room. I must have been 5 or 6. Being that I was a curious kid with a slight case of insomnia, I pretend slept, eagerly watching the rest of my family doze off on the couch. Soon as the coast was clear, I slithered off of the loud air matress I shared with my older brother and pranced around, playing with my power ranger toys in absolute dark. After about 10 minutes when that got boring something else caught my attention. The flickering lights outside that crept in through our blinds and painted the neighborhood in a brilliant white. I bolted to the windows and peered outside to take in this amazing spectacle of a light show. I thought it was the coolest thing to see the fluorescent streets flooding from the oncoming downpour and all I could imagine was how I'd play in the water whenever the sun came up. Everything looked so different at night. That's when I froze. Gazing upon the big house across the street my eyes noticed something strange--there was a man lurking around my neighbors front yard. More specifically, there was a odd man dressed up in a skeleton suit..creeping around my neighbors front yard, and now he appeared to be peeking inside their windows. I closed the blinds. I was so panicked that moving an inch towards my parents felt like an arduous task. Instead, my fixation on this weird skeleton man got the best of me and I wound up taking a gander outside a second time, just to see if he was still there. My suspicions were correct, he was still there. Boy was he ever. To my horror the strange figure had turned to meet my eyes and just stood there, leering into my soul. I back pedaled away from the glass, with my tiny hands clasped over my mouth so I wouldn't scream and inadverdently collapsed on top of my older brother who angrily demanded I go to sleep, it was late. I was so shook up couldn't utter a word, instead i hid under my covers until the next morning. It wasn't till a week later that my cousins who lived next door told me the story of a crazy man who'd burned down a now abandoned apartment building a couple houses down the street from us. I never told anyone what happened, I can't figure if what I saw was a madman or an apparition, all I know is that I moved to a new home soon after and that was the last I dwelled on the subject. Funny how it's stuck with me after all these years, and I only just remembered it recently.
Please Log In to post.
Log in to comment