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Coming up in this episode, it's Thriller Thursday. For this episode though, I thought it'd be a great idea when looking for creepypasta stories to use, why not use some of the original creepypastas that have been sent in from Weirdo family members. So that's what we're doing. I have six Weirdo creepypastas for you tonight, so bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into the Weird Darkness. Night Skies by Danny Kennedy I woke up in a state of confusion. Looking around, I only saw white walls. I was laying upon what appeared to be a standard hospital bed. The bright white light above seems to grow ever brighter to each surface I scanned. Tossing the covers aside, I slowly eased a foot to the tiled floor. I looked over myself and realized I was no longer in the clothes I went to sleep in the previous night, but in a blue jumpsuit. Standing up, I went to the nearest wall and tested it. I wasn't sure what I expected to happen. The wall itself felt like steel. I backed up, meeting the farthest wall and slid down on it. Like the other walls, this one felt different. I stand up immediately and run a hand down the white-coated wall. My hand catches, making an audible squeaking noise. Glass? I speak aloud. Just then a squelch overhead causes me to jump and spin around. Nice to see you away, Crayon. Who are you, I shout. Why am I here? What is this place? I'm sure you have many questions, and we will get to them. Just then the white frosted glass wall I was touching moments ago cleared, revealing an elderly gentleman wearing the same jumpsuit as me, but his was red. I pound on the glass doing nothing more than hurting my hand. Please calm down, Crayon. I understand this is quite confusing and disorienting, but I'm here to help you. Help me with what? I tentatively asked. Well, your transition, of course. Who the hell are you? Where am I? How the hell do you know my name? A man pinched his nose. Always the same. Never gets easier, does it? I signaled in his mouth. What? I have many names, Crayon, but you can call me Godric. As for where you are, you're aboard my ship. Your ship? As in space? Yes, we've been in orbit of your planet for a very long time, said Godric. How long, I asked suspiciously. Godric thought for a moment, but I could tell it was just for show. Well, I'd say since it's creation. Excuse me. I was shocked. There was no way that could be true. I shockingly declared, there's no way you've been here this long and not been noticed. Oh, we've been noticed. There's a time that we walked amongst you. You called us gods, made offerings and sacrifices in our names. Even today our governments shield you from our existence. The earth is hundreds of millions of years old. There's no way you lived that long. Godric chuckled. Billions, in fact. The earth is billions of years old. I admit that the lifespan thing would be a problem. Where are we human? So you're immortal or something? Not exactly, but technology has made it so we can live many lifetimes if we so choose. Humanity may have been created in our image, but without our tech you are frail and fragile creatures. I shake my head. Now you want me to believe you created humans too? We created this earth and all life on it, Ryan. Whether you choose to believe it or not is of no concern to me. Are you God? I ask with a bit of awe in my voice. The elderly man smiled. There are those in your culture who have called me such. Does that mean that I'm dead? Godric laughed. You're very much alive. We've been collecting on descendants that are on earth. It's time they came home. And I am one of these descendants? No, Ryan. No. You are completely different. Then why am I here? Godric tapped his finger to the glass. It lowered and I took a step out. Looking around I take in all the various machines. It was like something out of a sci-fi film. You are special, Ryan. Take a walk with me as I tell you a story. I nodded, and we step along a bridge leading from my room cell. Cell. Yeah, that seemed more appropriate. Godric began his tale. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, did you just make a Star Wars reference? Yes, I did. I rolled my eyes and smirk. Considering how weird this is, Godric is making it seem very normal. I suppose for him this is all normal. Let me start again. Near the beginning of our time, here, my second in command, Lucius didn't agree with what we were doing here. He thought us above such things as creating new life. He thought us too arrogant. He said such things were to be left to those who understood it. He opposed us and let a revolt against not only this ship, but the other ships here. He lost his battle, and he, along with those who aligned with him, were banished to the earth, to live among its people. They were stripped of access to all their biometrics, except to those that sustained their life. Their memories were wiped, biometrics programmed to permit aging, and we reverted them back to an egg form. People were abducted, and these eggs were implanted into them. The traitors were then born and raised into their new families. When it was time for them to die, we placed them in an animated state that seemed like death, then brought them here after burial to start the process again. This had to be done every so often, given earthlings short lifespans. Eventually, the others who helped us create earth left. Only our ship remains now. Godric took a deep breath as he finished his story. I tilted my head, and you're telling me this why. What's this got to do with me? Because it's time for your punishment to be over. It's time to restore you to your rightful place. You think you are Ryan Corbis, but you are actually Lucius Skyes, and it's time to come home. Come home? Are you telling me I'm an alien? Godric pinched the bridge of his nose. Always the same. No, Lucius. Don't call me that. I shout. No, I refuse. Let me go. Ah, Lucius, you say that now, but once we restore you, you'll understand. I said don't call me that. Godric spurred and laughed. You don't have a choice in the matter. I had hoped to do this peacefully, but you're defiant as always. At least this incarnation has some goal. I plead. I don't want it. Please, just let me go home. Let me live my life. I promise. I'll let you have me then. Godric shook his head, sadly. I'm sorry, Lucius, my friend. We cannot do that. A rush of emotions overcame me. But why? Because we've decided to initiate the doomsday program. That didn't sound good to my ears. The what? I asked. Many different religions call it many things, but it essentially equates to the end of the earth. I felt deflated. But why? We've gathered all the data we require. So you're just going to kill them? Godric's mouth twists and thought, they're already killing themselves. This is a much greater kindness. An anger overcame me in that moment. My head shoots to Godric with a scowl. I struck without thought. A blow straight to his jaw. He connected with a loud pop. Godric dropped to a knee. His eyes flash at me with hatred. His jaw is visibly dislocated. I'm no slouch. I work out daily. I have plenty of muscle. I've trained in martial arts. I'm a fighter and enjoy my career as an MMA. I take a fighter's stance, preparing to fight this monster threatening to destroy my world, though I suppose that if what he's saying is true, then technically this wasn't my world. I don't care about that, however. It was the only world I'd ever known. Godric's jaw begins to crack and splinter. He spurts as his jaw reworks itself, resetting back into place. The process took but seconds and looked painful. However, there was no pain in the man's eyes. Nothing to show that he was hurt in the slightest. He stood as the process completed. Goal. None of your other incantations would have ever thought to strike me. I'm sorry to say that this is the last I'll see of you, Ryan. It's been educational to say the least. Gods. Many men entered the room surrounding me. Godric looked to one guard. He's been on the ship too long. His biometrics are reactivating on their own. Take him to the Amnemesis chamber and restore his memories. I want my second back for this. Sir, the guards chimed in unison. Four guards stopped forward. They grabbed me and start dragging me away. I scrambled to gain my footing, but they don't give me a chance. They roughly pull me along endless corridors and turning so many times that I lose track of how many we'd taken. Suddenly, the guards stop in front of a door. The guards punch in a series of codes into the door before it hisses to life. This gives me a chance to regain my footing, and before the guards can move, I twist my body, thrusting forward with my feet to break away. I roll through and slide into a fighting position. One guard immediately rushes me and I lay him low with a well-placed kick. I swing around to throw an open palm into the throat of the guard sneaking into my blind spot. He slams into the ground much harder than I expected. I twist, grabbing the guard I kicked, slamming my knee into his sternum. In the next moment, I feel a pinch, then an overwhelming pain in my spine. I fall into my knee and reach around to grab the source. My hand closes over a metal sphere. I grasp it, then pull as another wave of pain rushes through me. My vision goes black and I fall to the floor. I wake up in what looks like a deprivation chamber. I am surrounded by people in white jumpsuits strapping me into a chair. My arms and legs have already been pinned down and they are applying the final strap to my face. Everyone else files out as one looks over the equipment. He punches something out on a keypad with purple lighting. He steps in front of me and smiles. It will be nice to finally have you back, Lucius. He turns away and exits the room. I am left alone. This is it, I suppose. I am going to become this entirely new person. My home is going to be destroyed. My parents are going to die. Everyone I ever care about will be gone. The room started to hum as a large overhead machine slowly trudged to life. A circular white light formed at a central point just above me. It grew in intensity, forcing me to close my eyes. The room practically vibrates now with the immense amount of energy flooding from the machine. A beam shoots from the sphere of light slamming between my eyes and everything goes black for a second time that day. I remain conscious this time, but all around me is black. Eventually a figure begins to form. It takes shape and looks exactly like me. I am confused until it speaks. Hello, Ryan. Do I know you? I ask. Yes and no. Well, that's not cryptic or anything. The mirror me laughs. I am Lucius. Oh, I answered deflated. Please don't be like that. Believe it or not, I am here to help. This was not what I was expecting. How? I may have been against this from the beginning, but what's done is done. I want to help you save Earth. But why? Don't you want to go home? I remember every life I ever lived, every home I've ever been a part of, every friend I've ever gained. Earth may not have been where I was born, but it's my home. So what do I need to do? Pretend. You'll know what to do soon. Pretend. Pretend what? As the darkness fades, so does Lucius. The room comes into focus, but Lucius' final words remain. Pretend to be me. Lucius sacrificed himself, but he also gave me just enough knowledge to not only pass as him, but also gave me a plan. Hope surged through me, but I wasn't done yet. The same man entered the room and removed my bonds. I wanted to strike. I wanted to make him pay for what he tried to do to me, but that wasn't the plan. Welcome back, Lucius, he said. I merely nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The man offered a hand, which I accepted, allowing myself to be helped from the chair. I was escorted from the room down a corridor to what looked like a large circular glass table. I'm not sure how, but I knew this was the elevator to the captain's chambers. I stepped inside the elevator, and the doors hissed shut. As I wait to arrive at my destination, I think to myself. I go over the plan, hoping he's arrogant enough to be alone. It's not impossible if he has guards, but it would be much. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. The elevator halts, and the doors slide open to reveal the smiling face of Godric. His smugness pisses me off, and I've never wanted to punch someone more than I did right now. Welcome back, Lucius. I look at him coldly. Finally decided to bring back the problem, child. I'm not sure what you expect to happen after trying to overturn me. I walk over to the display of knives and swords, and gently pick one up to examine it. Despite what you might think, Lucius, I have missed you. I nod. I'm sure you have, in your own way. I return the knife to the display, turning to meet his gaze. Godric steps forward and extends a hand. I hope we can put everything behind us as we move forward. His grin widens. I grab his forearm and our grips tighten. Still arrogant as ever. In one swift motion, I grab a knife from the display and jam it into the soft spot behind his chin. Godric grabs the wound with his free hand. I push him off the knife, and he falls onto his side. I kneel to meet his gaze, giving a spur of my own. I told you not to call me that. Godric's eyes register fear of the first time since I've met him. Lucius sacrificed himself. He gave me his knowledge, but told me he'd no longer be part of your lies. You claimed to have created this world, but that's not true. It was already here. You claim to create all life on Earth, but that, too, is untrue. All you've done is manipulate the world to your twisted desires. You've made it into the world you wanted it to be. You pretend to be its god, because that feeds your fantasy and need for power. It all ends now, Godric. I roll Godric over as I hear the biometrics begin to mend his wound. I quickly thrust the knife into the back of Godric's head and saw through the spine. That was the reason I had chosen this knife. The serrated edge would make the cutting simpler. I was through the bone in less than a second, and Godric is no more. I accessed the AI and locked down the chamber to keep everyone out. I also transferred access to all primary functions to me, locking everyone out. Next, I scrambled all the override codes, making it extremely difficult to hack the system. Lucius' memories helped with that. I then set a course away from Earth. As the ship begins to move, I smile. No one on this ship will ever harm the Earth again. I take comfort in that thought as the ship races off towards the sun. We'll have more of this special Weirdo family member edition of Thriller Thursday in just a moment, with stories from Adam Banks and Tristan Nieto up next. There is a knock at the door late at night. You answer it to find two small children standing there. You're suddenly filled with an inexplicable fear. Let us in, they say. We need to use the phone. It's at that point the fear turns to utter dread, as you see that these kids have completely black eyes. The Black-Eyed Kids is an exploration of this terrifying phenomenon using true stories of encounters with Black-Eyed Kids submitted to the My Haunted Life 2 website. G. Michael Vasey examines the evidence and investigates the terrifying Black-Eyed Kids phenomenon coming to some startling and shocking conclusions. Are they demonic soul-eaters responsible for the disappearance of some of the 90,000 Americans missing at any point in time? Or is this just another urban legend, another boogie man, designed to keep you awake at night? Listen to the book and find out. The Black-Eyed Kids by G. Michael Vasey, narrated by Weird Darkness host Darren Marlar. Here a free sample on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com. An Unknown Tribe by Adam Banks. It was a beautiful but blustery day in the area of January. The year was around 1700 in the place of the Midwest of America. The wind was blowing fairly hard. There was snow on top of the grass out in the open range of Indian country. The tribe that was nestled right in the middle of this was surrounded by dense forest off in the distance. This was a tribe with no name, a tribe that would rather to be left alone. There was about 100 people in this lonely group of Indians, and they aren't the kind of Indians that anyone would want to meet. They really only had one thing in common with other tribes, and that was survival skills. The entire group had an agenda of making sure that their place in the wild would go unnoticed. Yet their loud and chaotic rituals, dances and such, could be actually heard for miles. The sound would carry across the plains and even through the woods. Their rituals were actually that of an evil that we people of today would call demonic. They relied exclusively on the mirror image of the Great Spirit. The individuals of this tribe would do this to receive strength to train their offspring to be great warriors, warriors of the unpleasant type. These warriors had the power to tame animals to attack their foes. However, once the adults reached a certain age, they had to take their own life. This changes relatively quick. There was a mother and father who had a daughter, and she was now ready to train on her own to obtain a strength and power to tame the animals. She was about 12 or 13 years old. One night, at around the wee hours of the morning, the mother of the young girl woke up and saw that her daughter was not in their hut or place where they lived. She jumped up and grabbed the father, and they both ran outside. The father could not see his child anywhere, so he went out to the edge of the woods and stretched out his hands and called for her. The young girl came walking out of the woods, holding her head down to hide her face. Father said, Where have you been? The daughter replied, I've been away in the past, trying to fix some things. Father says to her, as he places his hand on her head, I can see where you have been and what you have been doing. You have been sacrificing a feline in my name. The girl replied, Only to fix this tribe. I am full of hate, Father, but you only want me to grow in that, so my sacrifice was spiritual. The father said to her, What about your spirit? It could have left you. The girl said, My ritual was to cast my spirit into the feline, but then you sought me out. I could not finish. The mother walks up to the girls and shouts, You my daughter are unlike any of us. The father says to the mother, We must give her to the forest. The father and mother and by this time the rest of the tribe came to the young girl and gave a full off ritual and banished her by the spirit. The tribe was dancing around and chanting. It started to lightning and rain. The young girl collapsed and died. She was then banished into the woods. The tribe leader says, This young girl must not ever die and live with torment with the animals that she has sacrificed. She will not ever taste death. The young girl was now fully a spirit who was sobbing at full of anger while she was walking into the woods. The storm that had passed through was believed to be brought by the spirit that they had called upon and it destroyed the tribe's village and all in it. The girl was now a spirit and the only one left of her kind. As time goes by many years pass and one destined day she finds herself being followed by a mountain lion. The mountain lion that was following her was walking towards her. She sees the cat and holds out her hand and says a chant. She then possesses the beast and immediately the body of the cat changes form. It became bigger. Its back had arched its way up higher. Bones were cracking and popping. Its face became longer almost the shape of a human. Her fur changed to black. She had razor sharp claws that were about six inches long and now she can stand and walk upright. Now that she is a beast like creature her world is really nothing but darkness. Holding on to the anger and hate that was placed in her. Because she was banished she now absolutely must seek revenge on the human race. The creature that lives in the dark needs to feed on human souls to accomplish this. But because of the banishment into the woods she will have to devour as much flesh of other animals to keep up her strength. She cannot leave the area of where her tribe was at or she will surely cease to exist. The only way to leave this area is if someone a human will summon her. And now the leader, if you will, of the darkness has to endure until then. Look at me by Tristan Nieto. Kim sat cross-legged on the overstuffed love seat in her mother's new apartment. Mom tossed salad fixings into a Tupperware with the dog at her heels looking upward, expectant of the five o'clock feeding before she left for night shift at the hospital. Kim couldn't really see what was happening in the kitchen. There was a screen in the way. Her mother stepped to the front door adjacent to the love seat. Don't forget to eat dinner, all right? Yeah, mom, sure. Hey. Yeah? Her mom placed one hand on the screen of Kim's phone. Look at me when we talk, please. Kim turned off the phone and looked at her mother. Sorry, I had to. I miss you when you're not around, said mom. Mom, I've been home this whole week, said Kim. A mother brushed Kim's bangs to one side and looked at her daughter. Yes, but that doesn't always mean you're here, you know. Kim checked her phone again out of habit, stopping herself midway, realizing the bitter truth and buried her head in her hands. Hey, Kimmy, it's okay. Just word to the wise. Kim slapped her thighs and looked to her mother. What, she asked, just don't spend so much time on your phone, okay? Kim paused before answering. Okay, mom, she said, I love you. A kiss on the forehead. There's a pizza in the freezer. Save me some for breakfast, okay? The mother slit open the latches and locks on the door, said a final farewell to the dog, and was gone. As the door shut, Kim opened her phone again. She checked her feed for new snaps, chats, chits, likes, followers, tags, hash, kittens, and kitsch. She stared in a daze at the tiny device that held the greater part of her world, but before long, the quiet began bugging her. She searched on the coffee table and around the love seat for the TV remote, with one hand and both eyes locked on her phone. Since she couldn't lay hands on it blind, she finally stuffed the phone into the waistband of her pajamas and began digging around in the love seat for the remote. Thrusting her hand between the cushions, she felt a hot sting nip her fingertip. Kim yelped, clutching the injured digit, a neat red line slashed across her index fingerprint. She sucked on it between gasps of ow and headed to the bathroom to run it under cold water. The pain dulled. Opening the camera on her phone, she held up her injury for the world to see. She snapped a tasteful shot of her bloody finger, posting it with hashtags, hashtag battle wound, hashtag couldn't find the remote. Kim dried the cut with a cotton ball, dressed it with a Batman band-aid, and took one more snapshot. She crafted a cute before and after diptych of her little injury. The girl marveled at her art and waited with eyes agog for reactions to roll in. Soon enough, they did. People love blood, she thought. She realized she could hear water running. Turning around, she saw the faucet in the bath pouring hot water into the tub. She walked over to it, bent down, and turned it off. There were many things about the apartment that made Kim uneasy. Sometimes the closed front door would slam into its frame and spook everyone with an ear shut. Sometimes the dog would bark at empty rooms for no reason at all. Sometimes the cell service and wi-fi would cut out entirely. And when her mother would call the cable company, it seemed service would come right back before the technicians arrived on its own. Compelled to take a selfie, she held her phone up. Staring into the screen, she began messing with her hair. Then, while in mid pose, from the corner of her eye, she saw something. Not on her screen, but in the mirror in front of her. In the bright light of the bathroom's bare light bulb, there was a shadow, solid and black, and about her height, right behind her. Kim screamed. Clutching the phone to her chest, she ran out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her, diving into the love seat to wrap herself in a blanket. What the hell, she thought, gasping for breath. She couldn't catch up to it. It felt like her lungs were closing in on themselves, like someone had dropped a lead weight on her chest. An unstoppable terror gripped her by the neck and wouldn't let go. She stumbled toward the kitchen and grabbed a paper bag from the counter, breathing in and out. Like a therapist told her to, she began naming the kids in her graduating class. Sarah Kalmers, Fiona Gaskill, Bradley Nichols, Chase Merits, Meredith Peralts, Eddie Rodriguez. She caught her breath. Her heartbeat slowed back down and she slid down the side of the couch for a moment. Bang! Damn! Kim yelled in the apartment. The front door had slammed into its frame. Then came a soft knock. So soft, Kim thought at first it might just be the wind, but it sounded rhythmic enough to suggest person. Bang! Bang! Bang! Kim stood up, wrapping the fuzzy blanket around her, phone in one hand with the video camera ready to record in case there was a killer on the other side. Hello? No answer. Kim crouched down on all fours to peek under the door. No shoes, no feet either. She opened it and peered into the hall. No one. Walking back to the love seat, she closed the camera and refreshed her feet with one hand, removing cushions with the other. She found, first, six new notifications for her bleeding finger, second, the remote, and third, sticking out at an angle below the left arm of the love seat, a razor blade. For the sake of documentation and more content for her social media, she took a photo of it, then another of her hand holding the blade. The caption read, No, not trying to kill myself, but this couch is, Who leaves a razor blade between couch cushions? Hashtag bizarre. Hashtag death by couch. Bang! Bang! Bang! Another knock, more certain this time. Kim felt certain it was the boys who lived at the far end of their landing, messing with her. Sometimes they'd prank Kim's mother, asking if her nose was running or switch all the welcome mats on the first floor with those on the second. Having nearly dropped her phone from the noise, she rose in a huff, palming the razor blade in her hand as a scare tactic. She threw the locks and latch, flinging the door wide. Expecting two children to be standing there, she instead found a boy about her age. He wore a black t-shirt and faded jeans so full of holes that they were barely there. A messy mop of dark hair obscured his extremely pale face and large blue eyes. Oh, hi, said Kim. It took the boy a moment to speak, twitching and gyrating, as if he were trying to find the words. He managed with a stutter, Ah, I heard a scream, he said. He must be one of the neighbors, thought Kim. Oh, she said, laughing a little. Yeah, sorry, that was me. The boy looked at her with those big eyes, gentle eyes betraying a deep sadness. Are you all right? The boy asked. Yeah, yeah, fine. I just… she held up her finger, cut myself. On accident, stupid razor in the couch cushions. Oh, he said, his mouth holding the shape of the sound. Yeah, Kim said, a little creeped out. The boy began to speak, but Kim turned away when she heard her phone vibrating on the glass of the coffee table. Look, thanks for coming by, really. I'm all good, though. Have a nice night. She shut the door and dashed to the table, but didn't pick up in time. It was her friend, Nikki. Kim tried calling back, but he went straight to voicemail. Then she received one. Beep. Hey, girl, just checking in on you. See if you're not dead from that hashtag battle wound. Gnarly, Ben missing you. If you're up for it, wanna go to a show next week? Bae's playing at this coffee shop. Sorry I missed ya. Ttylbaby kisses. Look. Beep. Kim stared at her phone. She pressed 4 and it repeated. Beep. Hey, girl, just checking in on you. See if you're not dead from that hashtag battle wound. Gnarly, Ben missing you. If you're up for it, wanna go to a show next week? Bae's playing at this coffee shop. Sorry I missed ya. Ttylbaby kisses. Look at me. Beep. Kim dropped it. The dog trotted up to look at her. He looked at the phone and whimpered. Ping. A new message. Kim bent to pick it up like a puppet. One new follower. She accepted without a second thought and grabbed the remote to put on friends, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering whose voice was that. Then she noticed the dog. He was sitting outside the bathroom looking in. Kim stood up. She walked toward him, but stopped when she noticed the door was open again. In a flash, she scooped up the dog and brought him to the couch with her. He licked her face. She was sure that the door had been closed. Kim petted him and petted him, nuzzling her face against his soft fur. Ping. As she picked up the phone again, the dog trotted right back to sit in front of the bathroom. A new comment. It read, Look at me. Kim slapped the screen down onto the coffee table with a bag and looked for the dog. There he was, sitting right outside the bathroom looking in. She covered her mouth, expecting herself to scream, but she didn't. Instead, she stood up and took a deep breath, and then another. She exhaled long and slow, repeating the names of her old classmates to herself like a prayer. Keep it together. It's all in your head, she thought. Thinking she might just be hungry, she popped a bag of popcorn in the kitchen and poured it into a bowl. Heading back to the couch, she grabbed the remote, bowled in her lap, turned the volume up and fixed her gaze on Ross and Chandler, bantering. Kim sat, munched popcorn, and refused to look at her phone. Ping. Woof! said the dog. Kim turned to him, still outside the bathroom. Woof! Woof! Bang! Bang! Bang! Kim screamed, setting the popcorn bowl flying clear across the room, emptying its contents all over the floor and furniture. It landed with a dull funk of plastic on the hardwood. Kim breathed in again, exhaling long and slow. She brushed the popcorn off her lap and went to the door, expecting to see the strange boy again. But when she opened it, there was no one. She locked the door again. She could feel her hands shake. She wanted something to hold but couldn't pick up her phone, something to fidget with, to stop the shakes. She picked up the razor from the coffee table, sat back on the couch, and fiddled with it. She placed it in her palm and felt the smallness of it. She held it up to the television and saw how it gleamed in the light. She touched a non-injured finger to feel its sharpness, its realness. It brought her back to herself somehow. She wondered how long it had been inside that couch. Like the rest of the furniture, it had come with the apartment. She wondered how it had gotten there, and why. Ping. She looked at the phone, a fervent curiosity eating away at her mind, yet terrified of what might be waiting for her if she caved. Get a grip, Kim, she thought. Kim picked it up, ignoring the notifications on the screen, not checking a single feed. She opened her contacts list and called Nikki again. Voice mail. Hey, it's Nick. Hit me back. Beep. Hey, it's Nick. Hit me back. Beep. Hey, Nick, what's up? Listen, could you just give me a call? Don't sound crazy. Don't sound crazy. I'm scared a little. Just call me back, okay? Okay, bye. She tried calling her mom at the hospital, even hearing a receptionist's voice would have been a relief. But it kept ringing. No answer. No voice mail. Just ringing. She tried her mom's cell phone, and the call dropped. Kim checked her cell signal. No bars. She checked social media, swiping down again and again across the screen. Couldn't refresh feed, it read. Kim grabbed her laptop from under the couch and opened the browser. No signal detected, it said. She wandered into her mother's closet to do a hard reset on the router. She unplugged it and waited, but when she plugged it in again, the lights continued to blink red. Kim started feeling a little dizzy. She could feel her adrenaline spiking. She stood up and staggered towards the dog, but he barked at her when she moved to pick him up and he ran past her. Okay, Kim, it's okay. Get it together. Get it together. Get your stuff together. He began to feel as if she were falling down, down like Alice, her vision an endless rabbit hole. She felt herself falling to the apartment floor. She took one deep breath and her eyes open wide when she heard a bang. Bang! Bang! But this time it didn't come from the front door. It came from the bathroom door, the now closed bathroom door. Kim recovered. She stood up slowly and picked the razor blade up from the floor. She took a step forward, then another, as though she were moving through cement, forcing her feet forward far enough to face the bathroom door. As she placed her hand upon the knob, she could hear water running inside. She turned it, and the door swung open. Steam billowed inside, so thick she could barely see. She stepped forward, clutching the blade between her thumb and forefinger, ready to slash at anything. She saw him there. The boy, his eyes wide, staring at her, irises suspended in the fog. He looked down and so did Kim. In his hand, he held her phone. The screen lit up and vibrated in his hand. Kim's mom was calling. She reached out to grab it. Kim tried to pull it from his grasp. She felt a substance on the case warm and thick, but what she didn't feel was the razor. As she had reached for the phone, he had guided the blade from her hand to her wrist. With all her might, she pulled the phone free, and it flew through the mist, landing upright in front of the tub, while the razor slashed a long gash into her arm. She slipped backwards into the tub, her body writhing in panic. She felt herself slipping deeper into the tub. Sitting bolt upright, she reached toward the phone at the tub's edge, with the razor embedded into her forearm. She had to call for help. The boy just stared at her. His body disappearing. Just a set of pale blue eyes, watching her from the mist right above the phone. She felt her body flung backward into the tub. Her head hit the faucet with a fantastic crack. Barely conscious and losing more blood every second, she could still see the phone's camera, still in selfie mode. Kim thrashed with the last of her strength, held down by hands invisible, hands so cold to the touch. She tried screaming for help, yet no sound came. All she heard was the water filling the tub, and then the sound of a camera exposure. A picture appeared on her phone screen. It was her, a living corpse floating in a sea incarnadine. Someone posted it to social media. A caption, look at me. Three more thriller Thursday creepypastas, all written by our Weirdo family members this week, up next, with stories from Dylan Walker, Bill Richardson, and Kelly Mehta. My doc agrees that I need to lose a few pounds. I knew that going in. But he also told me that the meds I'm taking for my type 2 diabetes aren't going to do me much good if I finish each meal with ice cream or cheesecake. I kind of knew that in advance too. But cutting back on carbs and sugars is a lot easier said than done. I've tried a lot of protein bars while on the road, but I swear it's like eating non-sweetened chocolate-dusted particle board. But now I travel with built bars. Built bars taste like candy bars. In fact, I'm now using them for my dessert. And in about 150 calories per bar, less than 3 grams of sugar, up to 19 grams of protein, I can satisfy my sweet cravings guilt-free. Visit WeirdDarkness.com slash Built in Try A Box. You can go for a variety pack of several flavors to try, or pick and choose to build a box of your own. Use the promo code WeirdDarkness at checkout and get 10% off your entire purchase. That's WeirdDarkness.com slash Built. There is something at the edge of the woods by Dylan Walker. There is something at the edge of the woods. I could see it through my bedroom window facing towards the woods. Close enough that I can throw a ball at it if I throw hard enough, but far enough to where I can't see what it is. It's dark outside, except for the glow coming from the downstairs kitchen light where my parents are sitting watching a movie. I can hear the movie and I can hear them murmur to each other every once in a while. So, if they are down there, then who was at the edge of the woods? It's probably nothing. I squint, taking a step closer to the window, hoping to make out what it was. I jumped. It was just a toy, the kind that makes noise when squeezed, or stepped on. I took my eyes off the window just long enough to see what I stepped on. When I looked up, it was gone. Where did it go? Did it go away, or did it move closer? Movement caught my eye. Whatever was at the edge of the woods moved, just a tiny bit, just enough to catch my eye. It moved. Did that mean it was alive? It could have been the wind. Was it an animal? No. It was clearly the outline of a man, the shape of the man. It couldn't be a man. There was just a tree branch or something, not a man. It seemed to be eight feet tall. No human can be that tall, right? No human being, except maybe a basketball player, but we don't have basketball players in this small town of ours. It could be possible that it was in fact a man or such height, but what did he want? No, it couldn't be a man. It was just my eyes playing tricks on me, right? Wrong. By now I can see that it was clearly the shape of a man. I can't trick myself that it wasn't a man or a woman. I mean, that's a possibility, too, right? Was it a hiker? Lost in the woods until here she stumbled upon a house? No, not that. The hiker would have approached the house. This person just stood there. Seemed to sway a little too. Was it dancing? Was it a serial killer? Escaped convict? Escaped mental ward patient, ready to take its next victim? Dear God, I don't want to die. That's when I noticed it. The man swayed slightly, and I noticed that it wasn't eight feet tall. It was floating a few feet off the ground. Loading. I did a retake. Only demons and witches and ghosts and all things bad float, not human beings. Is it watching me? Is I stare at it? Is it looking back at me? I stand as still as possible as if I'm turning invisible by doing so. Consumed with fear by the thought of the demon at the edge of the woods, I thought about grabbing a flashlight and opening my window, but then it would be aware of my presence if it weren't already. That thought sent shivers down my spine. Instead, I opened the window and strained to hear. Is it whispering? Creak. Creak. Creak. A gust of wind blew, and the thing moved. Flailed. I ran. I ran out of my bedroom into the hallway, down the stairs, into the living room. Both of my parents were both asleep on the couch. I woke my dad up. There's something at the edge of the woods! I cried. He assured me that there wasn't. It was just a deer or something, he said. I pointed out of the window where I can see it through the window. He began to assure me once more there was nothing out there when he stopped and stared because he saw it too. My dad woke up my mom and ushered us upstairs. When my dad grabbed the baseball bat he kept by his bed along with a flashlight. He went out there, out into the dark, to confront the man, demon, witch. My mom and I waited as she stroked my hair. A minute went by. Two. Three. Five. We both jumped as the back door slid open and someone walked in. Whoever it was walked upstairs. The doorknob turned. It swung open, revealing my dad. He was covered in sweat, and he looked pale as if he just saw a ghost. He refused to talk about it. I slept in my parents' room that day. It took me a while to fall asleep, but I did. In the morning I woke up to find both my parents missing from the bed. There was a commotion outside, where police cars and an ambulance were parked on our gravel driveway. There was an officer talking to my dad. I can hear the words through the open window. Just snippets of conversation. Divorce. Neighbor. Hunging myself. What is that music? By Bill Richardson. Dan hates sunburn. It's 5.05 pm and the sun is burning his arm through the windshield of his car. It was five o'clock traffic and it wasn't moving very fast. In fact, it was slow. 88 degrees and every single person coming or going on the four-lane road looked beaten down, distraught, hopeless. A week's worth of rest, it felt, couldn't restore them. Dismal financial news. Complete uncertainty. Politics at its worst. Dan's face reflected it. Everyone stood. Everyone was depressed, and everyone saw everyone else's face in the windshield. It was as appealing as the coffee brewed in the morning and left all day. The news didn't help. It seemed they thrived on the negativity. Dan turned off the news and switched to music on his smartphone. The music helped. The sky was beautiful, Dan thought, and the clouds as well. He began to have hope. Hope is so very precious. Got him through dark times. He remembered times at the hospital when his wife was sick. Music always helped. It's… Dan's thought derailed as a long silver line slowly drew itself down from the clouds to the treetops. Incredible. Languid singular lightly had just appeared. And what was this music? What is that? Mini the moocher? Cab Calloway? He knew the song from his parents' record collection. Slowly, a gigantic woman dressed in flapper's garb emerged from the line. She moved slowly with the music. Everyone froze. Dan's eyes told his mind what they saw. His mind had other thoughts. She moved with the rhythm of the music. Her flapper's garb revealing a beautiful woman underneath when the sun illuminated her frame. Then there was the hand in the arm, and the man himself. He was in a tuxedo, handsome, smiling with a devil may care smile, and his attention was on the languid beauty dancing atop treetops and blurring the vision of clouds. They met. Eyes locked and hands were held. Their movements together were beautiful, singularly passionate, but not obscene. His hand on the small of her back, eyes guiding her form with his. They moved in perfect harmony. It was love. It was love filled and was filled with love. Women in their silver years smiled, as did men, and remembered better times. Some even moved with the music, feeling hands long since past. Men and women saw a man and woman dance with the greatest care and romance. Their eyes were opened to a reality long forgotten, of a time when attractiveness to someone wasn't lewd, it was charming. People came out of their vehicles and watched the pair slowly move in rhythm to the mournful sound of Cab Calloway. A cool breeze refreshed everyone. The smiles were appearing on people's faces, completely unconcerned with the logic. The breeze lifted the tapers of her dress a bit and swirled around the pair just as the music. The music increased in tempo. Calloway belted and the people responded. And on and on it went. The tempo increased and people were excited. They cheered and shouted approval. Time stopped then, for a brief moment all that was wrong was put on hold and forgotten. People marveled at the romance they were watching. All along the parked drivers, there were silent spectral forms watching the show. The dead and the living were both smiling. Dan thought of his wife. She passed some five years earlier. She was there beside him now. Her smile was for him. Her hand his as well. Hot tears poured down his cheek as he told her simply, I love you. It was hard to force the words out, but he did. She took Dan's hand and placed it on her waist. He held her and breathed in her scent. She smiled so warmly, so beautifully. The dancers themselves took notice. Dan didn't question. He held his beloved wife and slowly moved with her to their own tempo. The song was ending. The male gently led his beauty back into the silver line. She followed accordingly. The male looked back at everyone, as did the woman peering from inside the veil. He smiled at them with a knowing smile, like that of a young Peter O'Toole. It implied that gentlemen don't kiss and tell, but they do kiss. The music ended and the breeze remained. Dan's wife began to fade as she kissed him. The tears were there alongside his smile. His heart bursting with emotion. I love you, Dan. Always. She was gone then. People were refreshed. Specters fading away. Smiles beaming upwards were everywhere and people forgot their troubles. The silver line vanished. It was never forgotten, however. People looked to the sky, still hoping for the next song, that next dance. Dan looks and remembers. He and others look for the pair to dance again, hoping for Cab Calloway just once more. Dr. Strange Loves Potions by Kelly Mata I was walking down a corridor one afternoon and bumped into a man. What he thing is, I ended up running into this man two more times. As they say, the third time's a charm. This last time I met him, he introduced himself as Jack. He said he was a doctor. It was close to Halloween. We got into a conversation about Halloween and dressing up. We exchanged numbers. We talked on the phone at first. He brought up Ancient Egypt, which was funny, because the first book I wrote was about Ancient Egypt. And if you google my name, you can find it, but I shrugged it off. And after talking for a week on the phone, we met up. It's funny, but he always knew what to say. He even said some words from a poem that I wrote, and I asked him about it, and he said that he may have seen it online. I was starting to be a little weirded out that he was always bringing up things that I either liked or wrote about. I shrugged it off because he seemed okay so far. We went out to eat, and he talked about spells and Ancient Egypt. He asked if I did spells. I said no, and he said good. But he seemed to know a lot about spells and Ancient books and artifacts. Not to mention aromatherapy and sage, etc. He talked about some potion that he purchased that it was supposed to be healing. He said he didn't like the noise in the restaurant and decided to sit right next to me, basically almost on top of me. I had to move. I felt claustrophobic because it was such a small booth. He seemed really nervous and spilled his drink. I thought maybe he was just a little shy. He did say he was nervous at first. I called it an early night, and we ended up going out again the following week. This time he insisted in picking me up. I said okay. I felt a little hesitant, but I let him. We went out to dinner, and he asked if I had a headache anymore, and I said no. The night before, I had told him I had a nightmare. He said, good, I did a spell on you and used some oils. I said, what do you mean a spell? He said it's harmless, and look, now you feel better. I said are you a warlock or something? He said no. He just knows a few things, but wouldn't elaborate. I felt really creeped out after knowing that. He invited me to his house, and I said no, so he drove me home. As I went to get out, he got out and pulled out what looked like was a needle on some kind of small case. I said OMG, what is that? He said it's a crucifix, that he always carries it with him to ward off evil spirits. I said you know what, I don't feel so hot, and I ran to the door before he had a chance to follow me. Looked like a needle of some kind. I kept fighting my better instincts, and he called me that night and said that he wanted to check on me. He mentioned I looked different than my driver's license. I said how do you know my license looks like? Then he went silent. He said he saw it online. I said it's not online and he wouldn't elaborate and tried to change the subject. I got really bad vibes the past two times I saw him, and things were just not making sense. Something was really off and wrong with this man. I blocked him and stopped talking to him. A month later, I ran into a friend of mine. She told me that she met a doctor and it happened to be the same guy. Her experience was a little different. She said that he tried to lure her into his basement. He said that he had some things that he wanted to show her down there. She said that she'd pass. As she quickly went to walk out of his apartment, she knocked over some files, and when she picked it up, he had a file on me, and her and another woman. It had all of our information and addresses as well as licenses and likes and dislikes. She shoved the files in her purse while he was still downstairs. She told me that one of the women in the file was a missing person she saw on TV. I told her to call the cops. She said there wasn't any proof. I said he has a file on a missing person. How much more proof do you need? She went to the police station and gave them the file. They said they'd call if they needed more information. The next night, we saw him on the news that they went to Dr. Strange Love's house and found the missing girl. She was in the creepy basement that he tried to bring my friend into. We were lucky to get away. The police had used a needle to drug the girl since he was a doctor, he knew what to do, and he had a room and a laboratory where he made strange potions and mixes. They also found old books. Some looked to be like occult books. At least he's in custody now and can't hurt anyone else. Thanks for listening. If you like the show, please share it with someone you know who loves the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters or unsolved mysteries like you do. You can email me anytime with your questions or comments at Darren at WeirdDarkness.com. Darren is D-A-R-R-E-N. And you can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and the show's Weirdo's Facebook group on the Contact social page at WeirdDarkness.com. Also on the website, if you have a true paranormal or creepy tale to tell, click on Tell Your Story. Stories on Thriller Thursday episodes are works of fiction, and if available, links to the authors or their social media can be found in the show notes. Night Skies was written by Danny Kennedy. An unknown tribe is by Adam Banks. Look at me is by Tristan Nieto. There is something at the edge of the woods was written by Dylan Walker. What is that music was written by Bill Richardson, and Dr. Strange Love's potions was written by Kelly Maynard. Weird Darkness is a production of Marlar House Productions. And now that we're coming out of the dark, I'll leave you with a little light. Genesis 50 verse 20. You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. And a final thought. The day you let go of everything that's weighing you down is the day you begin to shine the brightest. I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.