THE VOICE.
If you ever are in an area of absolute quiet, still your breathing and move not a muscle. After a few seconds, you will notice that the silence has a sort of "sound" of its own, a kind of empty ringing tone. This is nothing unique; everyone will hear this, given the proper setting. An informed person will tell you that your brain is trying to interpret the lack of stimuli to your hearing and so creates a bit of a filler sound. This ringing sound actually serves a more arcane purpose, covering up a noise we are not meant to hear. This noise is not impossible to hear, and if you are persistent you can effectively "break" the cover-up sound.
The next time you are silent and hear the ringing, shout at the top of your lungs for about half a minute, then be abruptly silent. It will be different for everyone. Some will hear nothing different for dozens of tries. Others might pick up soft murmuring. A special few auditory heroes might clearly make it out on the first attempt. What you will hear is a voice that relays an account of events about to happen in the immediate future. It's like a sportscaster relaying the events occurring 10 seconds into the future.
As time goes on, you will be able to make out this voice under increasingly noisy circumstances, to the point that it can be heard at any time by just concentrating. Such ability would doubtlessly be invaluable, no? You will be able react to any immediate danger, relate to people around you with greater ease. No one would ever surprise you. Now, of course you are wondering what sort of horrible catch this ability entails. Perhaps the tone of the voice is so horrible that it will drive you mad, or maybe the voice will only predict your death over and over again.
Of course this isn't the case, though, it’s a normal voice, your ears receive it no matter what, and it’s simply a matter of noticing. But there is a danger. For you see, where there is a voice, there is a body. And just like you will notice new sounds, so shall you notice new sights. More importantly, you will be noticed.
------------------------------------------------------------------
A recent study by the National Psychiatric Institute in Boston, MA, concluded that no activity can account for the phenomenon known as nightmares. Whereas many dreams come from unconscious desires, most nightmares seem to come from an outside source independent of the individual. In fact, when subjects are asked to recall nightmares they are almost always found in the same memory section as actual physical memories, not the section where normal dreams are replayed. In other words, those aliens and creatures you see at night in your "dreams?" They're real.
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The Tracing
August 2nd, 2008 by WHO WAS PHONE?
Next time when you’re lying in bed and the moon is new, when you’re at the moment where you’re almost asleep and your eyes are closed…try listening for the sounds. More specifically, sounds that shouldn’t exist in our realm. At this point, you’ll notice the world around you change, but don’t you dare open your eyes or make any movements.
If you lay right where you are, with your eyes closed, you’ll feel something trace a finger, a claw, or perhaps something even worse, across your forehead. The moment it stops tracing, you’ll wake up and it will be morning. Within that new week, you will die.
However, depending on what was traced on your head, you’ll either enter a paradise of a world, or you’ll enter an evil world of torture.
So…do you want to find out what’s on the other side?
-------------------------------------------------------------------
There it goes again. Something definitely moved this time. It was very brief, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw something. But wait. All the doors are locked, no pets, and your parents won’t get home until 10. So there’s no way something moved. It’s just your imagination getting the best of you. Sitting alone in your room, the only light emitting from the monitor of your computer, you stare into the darkness for several minutes. Just to be sure. Now you feel silly. What were you thinking? Of course there’s nothing there. What, are you 6? Go back to what you were doing.
15 minutes later, as you prepare to go to bed, you’re in the bathroom. The shower curtains shift. Wait… no. Stop spooking yourself. It’s just an overactive imagination, filling your head with what isn’t really there. You gaze into the mirror at yourself. You say it to yourself, slowly and clearly, “Imagination.” With a sigh, you turn the lights off and head towards your room.
Laying in bed, you stare at your ceiling, dark and foreboding, only the motion of a small fan disturbing the calmness of the night. A shadow from the light in the hall shifts. No. No, no, no. Stop it. It’s your imagination. Just that. Go to sleep, you fool.
But then, just when you’re about to drift off to sleep, at the phase no one remembers when they wake, you sense something in the darkness. It’s your imagination, leering down at you. With a jagged, macabre smile
---------------------------------------------------------------------
All this s**t started when I found that little note.
On a square piece of paper I found at the bottom of a box I was moving out of my basement, it read, “HELLO? PLEASE RESPOND”. I had no idea how long the paper had been there, those boxes had sat in my basement since I moved in. I ignored it until the next morning, when I opened my coffee maker to throw out the grounds, and inside was a sopping wet piece of paper that read “PLEASE RESPOND! PLEASE HELP”. I figured it must have been put inside my coffee maker by whoever was pulling this pointless prank, because it wasn’t there when I put my coffee grounds in.
I found more notes, under my mousepad, inside my computer tower while I was putting in some new RAM, between the layers of tissue of my toilet paper roll, under my DVD player’s disc tray. Places that no one would ever look, places you’d never think of putting a note, places you knew no one would ever look and it would be foolish to put a note, because who knew when they would see it?
But it kept happening, and they all said the same thing every time, begging me to respond and help them. Being the retard I am, one day I just got fed up when I found one inside a cup in my dishwasher (right after I had run it - the paper was dry) I wrote on the back of it “HELLO. I’M RESPONDING. PLEASE EXPLAIN YOUR SITUATION!” and slid it under a crack in my bath-fitted tub.
No sooner had I left my bathroom did I find another piece of paper, floating on the surface tension on the surface of my glass of sprite I had in the living room.
I carefully picked it out of my drink, it read “THANK YOU.” and in larger letters, “I’M TRAPPED”.
I waved it around to dry it off a bit, and wrote on the back of it again, “where are you trapped? how are you sending me notes?” and, not creative enough to think of where to put it, I just threw it behind my couch. I waited and looked, but I didn’t see any other notes for the rest of that day.
The next day I checked my mail, inside of some spam letter was the next note, “IN THE SECOND DIMENSION. BELOW YOU”. I wasted no time in responding “whoever you are, this prank is retarded. give it a rest” and threw it outside, the wind blew it away.
The next note I got was still in obnoxious capital letters, though it was much longer than before and the last sentence seemed to have been squeezed into the remaining space. I think it was a passage from some encyclopedia or textbook. “The first dimension is a defined point in space. The second dimension (this was underlined) is anything that exists with height and width, while the third adds on length. The fourth includes time, the and the fifth is the past: time that has already occurred and is solidified in timespace.” Everything beyond that was too squished in to read. I rolled my eyes and responded again, “How can you read this if you’re in the second dimension? How can you even exist??” I slipped this note into the space in my toaster between the element and the metal casing.
My reply came when I brushed it out of my hair the next morning before I took a shower. “WRITING IS 2D. VISION IS 2D- TWO 2D IMAGES SUPERIMPOSED.”
That didn’t really get to the point of how I was supposed to “rescue” this person, which I defined in my next note that I flushed down my toilet.
“MAKE ME 3D” was all that was on the new slip of paper I found inside of a chocolate bar I unwrapped, later on. How the idiot was putting these inside sealed products was beyond me but at this point I decided to play along, maybe it was some kind of TV show thing.
“How?” was all I wrote for my reply. I remember exactly where I put it, because it was the last thing I wrote for a long time. I put it in a crack between my length mirror, and it’s wooden backing. As soon as I let go it slid out of sight and I didn’t see any papers again for a year and a half.
Getting dressed one morning for work, I went into my room and adjusted my tie and shirt in my mirror, the same one, only it was now on the opposite side of my room. Looking into it, I noticed a square behind me on the wall. Turning around, there was none. In the instant before I turned around again I thought it must have fallen off, but in the mirror it was still there, still suck to the wall. I touched my mirror thinking maybe it was some sort of warping or optical illusion, but it wasn’t.
I lifted my heavy mirror up from the ground and slowly walked backwards with it, nearing myself to the opposite wall on which the paper was stuck. The closer I got, the clearer the message on it became, until I stopped, sandwiched between the heavy mirror and the wall, looking at the paper immediately over my shoulder: “MAKE YOU 2D” it said.
I moved the ******** out of that house as soon as I could. After bunking at my girlfriend’s for a while, I got the ******** rid of the mirror, the toaster, everything. My heart still skips a beat when I see any perfectly square piece of paper, sitting on the floor, all alone. I still live in fear of some day I’ll open up a book or look in the inner lining of a jacket, and a piece of paper will flop out.
I check all my things, now. Constantly. I also don’t drink coffee anymore.
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Don’t Open Your Eyes
September 14th, 2008 by WHO WAS PHONE?
On the last day of every month, close the blinds or curtains before you sleep. If in the middle of the night, you hear a tapping noise at your window, don’t open your eyes.
If you’re one of the unlucky ones, you’ll hear that pebble sound at your window. It’s not a friend; just keep your eyes shut. The sound will get louder, the tapping will get faster and faster. Don’t let your curiosity get the better of you; don’t move. It’ll lose its patience, it’ll start thumping the window. Your window will shake and shudder and the noises will only get louder. It will furiously pound the window and shake the panes; don’t worry, the window won’t break but for goodness’ sake, DON’T OPEN YOUR EYES. No matter how scared you are, no matter how badly you want to scream, pretend like you don’t hear, pretend you’re still asleep.
After a while, the noises will stop. Don’t fall for it, keep your eyes shut. Try to sleep if you can. Don’t get up, don’t open your eyes, until the sun comes up.
Those who do open their eyes…well, no one really knows what happens.
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I’m Sure The Wake Will Be Nice
August 26th, 2008 by WHO WAS PHONE?
If traveling through the tip of the thumb of Michigan on a night with a full moon, stop at McGraw County Park. The gate will be closed but you can park in front of it. Bring a set of black clothes and change in the change rooms.
When you come out, there will be an old man with olive colored skin and curly dark brown hair and a mustache selling hot dogs in a cart. If you order one, the man will thank you for your patronage and apologize for your loss saying “I’m sure the wake will be nice.” One of your relatives - not necessarily someone close but still someone you know - will have been murdered that night.
Be sure to change back into your other set of clothes, because if you drive away while still dressed in the black clothes you’ll be pulled over by state police and arrested for the murder of your family member and the clothes will be covered in their blood.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A baby girl is mysteriously dropped off at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945. “Jane” grows up lonely and dejected, not knowing who her parents are, until one day in 1963 she is strangely attracted to a drifter. She falls in love with him, but just when things are looking up for Jane a series of disasters strikes: First, she becomes pregnant by the drifter, who then disappears. Second, during the complicated delivery doctors discover that Jane has both sets of sex organs, and to save her life, they most surgically convert “her” to a “him.” Finally, a mysterious stranger kidnaps her baby from the delivery room.
Reeling from these disasters, rejected from society, scorned by fate, “he” becomes a drunkard and a drifter. Not only has Jane lost her parents and her lover, but he has lost his only child as well. Years later, in 1970, he stumbles into a lonely bar, called Pop’s Place, and spills out his pathetic story to an elderly bartender. The sympathetic bartender offers the drifter the chance to avenge the stranger who left her pregnant and abandoned, on the condition that he join the “time traveller corps.” Both of them enter a time machine and the bartender drops the drifter off in 1963. The drifter is strangely attracted to a young orphan girl, who subsequently becomes pregnant.
The bartender then goes forward 9 months, kidnaps the baby girl from the hospital, and drops the baby off in an orphanage back in 1945. Then the bartender drops off the thoroughly confused drifter in 1985, to enlist in the time traveller corps. The drifter eventually gets his life together and becomes respected and elderly member of the time traveller corps, and then disguises himself as a bartender and has his most difficult mission: a date with destiny, meeting a certain drifter at Pop’s Place in 1970.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Ever-Burning Light Bulb
August 7th, 2008 by WHO WAS PHONE?
In a fire station in California, there is a light bulb that is always on and has never, ever burned out. If you read Numbers 16:41-45 from a King James Bible (other versions don’t work) in the same room as this light bulb, the light bulb will dim significantly. If you keep reading until Numbers 16:48, the light bulb goes back to its original brightness.
The trick is, if you hesitate too long while the lights are dim, you start seeing a weird lightshow in front of your eyes, it is most similar to what happens when you rub your eyes for a long time while they are closed.
If you wait for still longer, the lightshow starts forming patterns, like circles and triangles. Still longer, and the lightshow starts to form words. The people that have read these words are reluctant to talk about it, but are often obsessed with the year 2112 and are very interested in what countries are producing biological weapons…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you ever are in an area of absolute quiet, still your breathing and move not a muscle. After a few seconds, you will notice that the silence has a sort of "sound" of its own, a kind of empty ringing tone. This is nothing unique; everyone will hear this, given the proper setting. An informed person will tell you that your brain is trying to interpret the lack of stimuli to your hearing and so creates a bit of a filler sound. This ringing sound actually serves a more arcane purpose, covering up a noise we are not meant to hear. This noise is not impossible to hear, and if you are persistent you can effectively "break" the cover-up sound.
The next time you are silent and hear the ringing, shout at the top of your lungs for about half a minute, then be abruptly silent. It will be different for everyone. Some will hear nothing different for dozens of tries. Others might pick up soft murmuring. A special few auditory heroes might clearly make it out on the first attempt. What you will hear is a voice that relays an account of events about to happen in the immediate future. It's like a sportscaster relaying the events occurring 10 seconds into the future.
As time goes on, you will be able to make out this voice under increasingly noisy circumstances, to the point that it can be heard at any time by just concentrating. Such ability would doubtlessly be invaluable, no? You will be able react to any immediate danger, relate to people around you with greater ease. No one would ever surprise you. Now, of course you are wondering what sort of horrible catch this ability entails. Perhaps the tone of the voice is so horrible that it will drive you mad, or maybe the voice will only predict your death over and over again.
Of course this isn't the case, though, it’s a normal voice, your ears receive it no matter what, and it’s simply a matter of noticing. But there is a danger. For you see, where there is a voice, there is a body. And just like you will notice new sounds, so shall you notice new sights. More importantly, you will be noticed.
------------------------------------------------------------------
A recent study by the National Psychiatric Institute in Boston, MA, concluded that no activity can account for the phenomenon known as nightmares. Whereas many dreams come from unconscious desires, most nightmares seem to come from an outside source independent of the individual. In fact, when subjects are asked to recall nightmares they are almost always found in the same memory section as actual physical memories, not the section where normal dreams are replayed. In other words, those aliens and creatures you see at night in your "dreams?" They're real.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
The Tracing
August 2nd, 2008 by WHO WAS PHONE?
Next time when you’re lying in bed and the moon is new, when you’re at the moment where you’re almost asleep and your eyes are closed…try listening for the sounds. More specifically, sounds that shouldn’t exist in our realm. At this point, you’ll notice the world around you change, but don’t you dare open your eyes or make any movements.
If you lay right where you are, with your eyes closed, you’ll feel something trace a finger, a claw, or perhaps something even worse, across your forehead. The moment it stops tracing, you’ll wake up and it will be morning. Within that new week, you will die.
However, depending on what was traced on your head, you’ll either enter a paradise of a world, or you’ll enter an evil world of torture.
So…do you want to find out what’s on the other side?
-------------------------------------------------------------------
There it goes again. Something definitely moved this time. It was very brief, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw something. But wait. All the doors are locked, no pets, and your parents won’t get home until 10. So there’s no way something moved. It’s just your imagination getting the best of you. Sitting alone in your room, the only light emitting from the monitor of your computer, you stare into the darkness for several minutes. Just to be sure. Now you feel silly. What were you thinking? Of course there’s nothing there. What, are you 6? Go back to what you were doing.
15 minutes later, as you prepare to go to bed, you’re in the bathroom. The shower curtains shift. Wait… no. Stop spooking yourself. It’s just an overactive imagination, filling your head with what isn’t really there. You gaze into the mirror at yourself. You say it to yourself, slowly and clearly, “Imagination.” With a sigh, you turn the lights off and head towards your room.
Laying in bed, you stare at your ceiling, dark and foreboding, only the motion of a small fan disturbing the calmness of the night. A shadow from the light in the hall shifts. No. No, no, no. Stop it. It’s your imagination. Just that. Go to sleep, you fool.
But then, just when you’re about to drift off to sleep, at the phase no one remembers when they wake, you sense something in the darkness. It’s your imagination, leering down at you. With a jagged, macabre smile
---------------------------------------------------------------------
All this s**t started when I found that little note.
On a square piece of paper I found at the bottom of a box I was moving out of my basement, it read, “HELLO? PLEASE RESPOND”. I had no idea how long the paper had been there, those boxes had sat in my basement since I moved in. I ignored it until the next morning, when I opened my coffee maker to throw out the grounds, and inside was a sopping wet piece of paper that read “PLEASE RESPOND! PLEASE HELP”. I figured it must have been put inside my coffee maker by whoever was pulling this pointless prank, because it wasn’t there when I put my coffee grounds in.
I found more notes, under my mousepad, inside my computer tower while I was putting in some new RAM, between the layers of tissue of my toilet paper roll, under my DVD player’s disc tray. Places that no one would ever look, places you’d never think of putting a note, places you knew no one would ever look and it would be foolish to put a note, because who knew when they would see it?
But it kept happening, and they all said the same thing every time, begging me to respond and help them. Being the retard I am, one day I just got fed up when I found one inside a cup in my dishwasher (right after I had run it - the paper was dry) I wrote on the back of it “HELLO. I’M RESPONDING. PLEASE EXPLAIN YOUR SITUATION!” and slid it under a crack in my bath-fitted tub.
No sooner had I left my bathroom did I find another piece of paper, floating on the surface tension on the surface of my glass of sprite I had in the living room.
I carefully picked it out of my drink, it read “THANK YOU.” and in larger letters, “I’M TRAPPED”.
I waved it around to dry it off a bit, and wrote on the back of it again, “where are you trapped? how are you sending me notes?” and, not creative enough to think of where to put it, I just threw it behind my couch. I waited and looked, but I didn’t see any other notes for the rest of that day.
The next day I checked my mail, inside of some spam letter was the next note, “IN THE SECOND DIMENSION. BELOW YOU”. I wasted no time in responding “whoever you are, this prank is retarded. give it a rest” and threw it outside, the wind blew it away.
The next note I got was still in obnoxious capital letters, though it was much longer than before and the last sentence seemed to have been squeezed into the remaining space. I think it was a passage from some encyclopedia or textbook. “The first dimension is a defined point in space. The second dimension (this was underlined) is anything that exists with height and width, while the third adds on length. The fourth includes time, the and the fifth is the past: time that has already occurred and is solidified in timespace.” Everything beyond that was too squished in to read. I rolled my eyes and responded again, “How can you read this if you’re in the second dimension? How can you even exist??” I slipped this note into the space in my toaster between the element and the metal casing.
My reply came when I brushed it out of my hair the next morning before I took a shower. “WRITING IS 2D. VISION IS 2D- TWO 2D IMAGES SUPERIMPOSED.”
That didn’t really get to the point of how I was supposed to “rescue” this person, which I defined in my next note that I flushed down my toilet.
“MAKE ME 3D” was all that was on the new slip of paper I found inside of a chocolate bar I unwrapped, later on. How the idiot was putting these inside sealed products was beyond me but at this point I decided to play along, maybe it was some kind of TV show thing.
“How?” was all I wrote for my reply. I remember exactly where I put it, because it was the last thing I wrote for a long time. I put it in a crack between my length mirror, and it’s wooden backing. As soon as I let go it slid out of sight and I didn’t see any papers again for a year and a half.
Getting dressed one morning for work, I went into my room and adjusted my tie and shirt in my mirror, the same one, only it was now on the opposite side of my room. Looking into it, I noticed a square behind me on the wall. Turning around, there was none. In the instant before I turned around again I thought it must have fallen off, but in the mirror it was still there, still suck to the wall. I touched my mirror thinking maybe it was some sort of warping or optical illusion, but it wasn’t.
I lifted my heavy mirror up from the ground and slowly walked backwards with it, nearing myself to the opposite wall on which the paper was stuck. The closer I got, the clearer the message on it became, until I stopped, sandwiched between the heavy mirror and the wall, looking at the paper immediately over my shoulder: “MAKE YOU 2D” it said.
I moved the ******** out of that house as soon as I could. After bunking at my girlfriend’s for a while, I got the ******** rid of the mirror, the toaster, everything. My heart still skips a beat when I see any perfectly square piece of paper, sitting on the floor, all alone. I still live in fear of some day I’ll open up a book or look in the inner lining of a jacket, and a piece of paper will flop out.
I check all my things, now. Constantly. I also don’t drink coffee anymore.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Don’t Open Your Eyes
September 14th, 2008 by WHO WAS PHONE?
On the last day of every month, close the blinds or curtains before you sleep. If in the middle of the night, you hear a tapping noise at your window, don’t open your eyes.
If you’re one of the unlucky ones, you’ll hear that pebble sound at your window. It’s not a friend; just keep your eyes shut. The sound will get louder, the tapping will get faster and faster. Don’t let your curiosity get the better of you; don’t move. It’ll lose its patience, it’ll start thumping the window. Your window will shake and shudder and the noises will only get louder. It will furiously pound the window and shake the panes; don’t worry, the window won’t break but for goodness’ sake, DON’T OPEN YOUR EYES. No matter how scared you are, no matter how badly you want to scream, pretend like you don’t hear, pretend you’re still asleep.
After a while, the noises will stop. Don’t fall for it, keep your eyes shut. Try to sleep if you can. Don’t get up, don’t open your eyes, until the sun comes up.
Those who do open their eyes…well, no one really knows what happens.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
I’m Sure The Wake Will Be Nice
August 26th, 2008 by WHO WAS PHONE?
If traveling through the tip of the thumb of Michigan on a night with a full moon, stop at McGraw County Park. The gate will be closed but you can park in front of it. Bring a set of black clothes and change in the change rooms.
When you come out, there will be an old man with olive colored skin and curly dark brown hair and a mustache selling hot dogs in a cart. If you order one, the man will thank you for your patronage and apologize for your loss saying “I’m sure the wake will be nice.” One of your relatives - not necessarily someone close but still someone you know - will have been murdered that night.
Be sure to change back into your other set of clothes, because if you drive away while still dressed in the black clothes you’ll be pulled over by state police and arrested for the murder of your family member and the clothes will be covered in their blood.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A baby girl is mysteriously dropped off at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945. “Jane” grows up lonely and dejected, not knowing who her parents are, until one day in 1963 she is strangely attracted to a drifter. She falls in love with him, but just when things are looking up for Jane a series of disasters strikes: First, she becomes pregnant by the drifter, who then disappears. Second, during the complicated delivery doctors discover that Jane has both sets of sex organs, and to save her life, they most surgically convert “her” to a “him.” Finally, a mysterious stranger kidnaps her baby from the delivery room.
Reeling from these disasters, rejected from society, scorned by fate, “he” becomes a drunkard and a drifter. Not only has Jane lost her parents and her lover, but he has lost his only child as well. Years later, in 1970, he stumbles into a lonely bar, called Pop’s Place, and spills out his pathetic story to an elderly bartender. The sympathetic bartender offers the drifter the chance to avenge the stranger who left her pregnant and abandoned, on the condition that he join the “time traveller corps.” Both of them enter a time machine and the bartender drops the drifter off in 1963. The drifter is strangely attracted to a young orphan girl, who subsequently becomes pregnant.
The bartender then goes forward 9 months, kidnaps the baby girl from the hospital, and drops the baby off in an orphanage back in 1945. Then the bartender drops off the thoroughly confused drifter in 1985, to enlist in the time traveller corps. The drifter eventually gets his life together and becomes respected and elderly member of the time traveller corps, and then disguises himself as a bartender and has his most difficult mission: a date with destiny, meeting a certain drifter at Pop’s Place in 1970.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Ever-Burning Light Bulb
August 7th, 2008 by WHO WAS PHONE?
In a fire station in California, there is a light bulb that is always on and has never, ever burned out. If you read Numbers 16:41-45 from a King James Bible (other versions don’t work) in the same room as this light bulb, the light bulb will dim significantly. If you keep reading until Numbers 16:48, the light bulb goes back to its original brightness.
The trick is, if you hesitate too long while the lights are dim, you start seeing a weird lightshow in front of your eyes, it is most similar to what happens when you rub your eyes for a long time while they are closed.
If you wait for still longer, the lightshow starts forming patterns, like circles and triangles. Still longer, and the lightshow starts to form words. The people that have read these words are reluctant to talk about it, but are often obsessed with the year 2112 and are very interested in what countries are producing biological weapons…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
