The Man Who Wasn't There Yesterday Upon the stair,I saw a...
Yesterday Upon the stair,
I saw a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today…
Oh, how I wish he'd go away.
Last night when I came home at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall,
I didn't see him there at all
Go away, go away!
Don't come back anymore
Go away, go away!
And please don't slam the door.
Last night I saw upon the stair,
A little man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he's go away.
Written by Hughes Mearns.
Submitted by elusive-of-the-mourning.
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hello, I am here to ask you kindly to take down your blog. It is simply too spooky for me, and anyone else. its true, my great grandfather got schitzophrenia from reading this blog. So please, take down this blog on the behalf that no one will will say "this blog is 2spooky4me" ever again. Thank you.
There are so many people who reblog the stories I post...
only to “disprove” the story/legend/whatever. I want to be the first to welcome you to Fuck Yeah Spooky Shit. Hey there, welcome. My name is Ness and I run a fucking creepy pasta blog. Why ruin it for everyone else?
To those of you who shit yourselves on a regular basis due to this blog. You’re welcome and I’m not 100% sorry…and I heart your faces. That is all, still working on a laptop though. Hopefully within the next few weeks.
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When a child is born, most often their parents are imagining all...
When a child is born, most often their parents are imagining all the possible things they could grow up to be. I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Mudgett didn't have serial killer on that list for their baby boy Herman. Born on May 16, 1860, Herman Mudgett a.k.a Dr. Henry Howard Holmes grew up to be America's most deadliest serial killer. It's believed the body count mounted in to the hundreds but only twenty-seven were confirmed. How does a person kill hundreds of people without drawing unwanted attention? Mix a big city with a large fair and you have the perfect disguise.
In 1889, Holmes arrived in Chicago taking up residence in what is now know as the Englewood neighborhood. He began working for Dr. and Mrs. Holden as a pharmacist. His charming demeanor masked the divorces, frauds and indiscretions performed during medical school, leading the couple to believe they had the perfect assistant. When Dr. Holden succumbed to cancer, Mrs. Holden mysteriously disappeared. Holmes explained to the community she had headed west after he bought the store from her. Business continued to do so well that he bought a lot across the street at 63rd and Wallace with the intentions of building a hotel. The reason for this endeavor was to provide housing for tourist during the upcoming 1893 Columbian Expedition World's Fair.
The result was a heft three-story building with 60 rooms dubbed "The Castle". There were also hidden passages and secret stairways, trap doors, chutes plunging to the basement, a staircase that opened to the alley below, asphyxiation champers, a dissecting table and a crematory. Guests who checked in to The Castle often didn't check out. Even female employees made up of tourists and small town or country girls fell victim to his torturing and murdering ways. After the fair and successfully faking his own death and collecting on the insurance, Holmes traveled for a while looking for the right place to set up shop once more.
He was arrested and incarcerated in St. Louis after a horse swindle in July of 1894. It was during this period he struck up a conversation with the person who was to later snitch on him, Marion Hedgepeth. Holmes failed to deliver Hedgepeth's share on a failed insurance scam. Hedgepeth's tip led to the doctors arrest on November 17, 1894 in Boston. Police obtained a warrant to search The Castle. What they found defied all imagination: a dissecting table, bottles of poisons, containers of quicklime, acid big enough to eat away a body, stretching rack, a gas chamber, coffins holding female corpses, an incinerator littered with charred human remains. Holmes was tried and found guilty. He was hanged at Moyamensing Prison On May 7, 1896.
On August 19th, The Castle mysteriously burned to the ground. It was rumored a former accomplice burned it in order to cover up his part in the horror. Some think it was burned down by neighbors or perhaps by accident. Either way, the lot remained vacant until 1938 when a U.S. Postal Office was built. Because of all the blood shed on the property, many believe it to be haunted, maybe even cursed. A number of people involved with his trial died under bizarre circumstances, including a priest who had visited him before his execution, the doctor who certified him dead, the jury foreman, Marion Hedgepeth (who was pardoned) was shot by police at a saloon, and others. There are reports of poltergeist and spirit activity as well as strange noises and unexplained weary feelings. Some even claim Holmes' ghost visits the Museum of Science and Industry, one of the few remaining structures from the 1893 Exposition, located nearby.
Is Dr. H.H. Holmes continuing his joy of killing or is the horrific history enough to fuel the legend for years to come?
I won't have a computer for a few days or so. I'll try to post more stories despite lack of comp
Pleeeeeeeease post something new
"Mom," said the little girl, rubbing her eyes and...
"Mom," said the little girl, rubbing her eyes and standing in the doorway to her mother's room. "Mom, the Easter Bunny is eating my candy," she said.
"Nonsense, baby," the woman replied. "The Easter Bunny gives out candy, he doesn't eat it…"
The woman lightly shook her covers and continued to speak, halfway into her pillow and halfway to her daughter, "Go back to sleep, baby…"
"But, mom," the girl said. "The Easter Bunny is eating candy!" She now spoke in a more serious tone, almost as if she were going to cry.
Her mother sat up and opened her arms. "Baby, I just told you. The Easter Bunny doesn't eat candy, he hands it out to little children. Besides, it's not even Easter yet. Go back to sleep," she said in her kindest voice.
"Okay, mom," the child sighed as she turned to walk out the room.
The woman smiled and thought, 'Crazy kid with her lively imagination,' and went back to sleep on a whim.
Out in the hallway, the little girl stood for a while staring at the Easter Bunny eating her candy. She then sighed. "Mommy said I should go back to bed."
The Easter Bunny smiled. "Good idea, child. Turn around and don't look back."
He flicked a shiny metal pendant at the child. She picked it up and cried as she saw what it was: it was a dog tag and it read "Candy".
Have you ever heard the expression "an apple a day keeps the...
Have you ever heard the expression "an apple a day keeps the Doctor away?" Most assume, with no reason to think otherwise, that it is simply an easy-to-remember rhyme that stresses the importance of eating healthily to young children. But the saying did not originate as a harmless reminder. It was born in a frontier town in the early years of the gold rush, where food was scarce and money even scarcer. One August, when a bad drought had struck the region, a series of bloody killings swept through the town. Every night, a single house would be broken into, and anyone who saw the invader would be swiftly, brutally slain. Nothing was ever stolen, save for a few scraps of food.
After two weeks of this, the local grocer set out a few apples and a glass of milk in the town square overnight. He then hid in the tower of the church, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone who came by. Fighting fatigue, the grocer waited for any sign of life below. Just after midnight, he was rewarded by a chilling sight; a man, carrying a black bag stuffed with dully shining metal tools and covered from head to foot in cloth bandages, staggered into view. He paused at the sight of the apples and milk, then whipped his head around, as if looking for the one who dared to patronize him. Seized with fear, the grocer ducked out of sight, staying hidden 'til sunrise.
The strange man had only taken one of the apples, and didn't even touch the glass of milk. No houses were broken into, and no one was killed. For decades, the town continued to place out an apple or two every night, even long after a single apple stopped disappearing.
Indian officials ventured into a deep jungle, investigating...
Indian officials ventured into a deep jungle, investigating several missing persons reports from a nearby city. What they found was a "Tower of Silence," or dakhma. Zoroastrians use these sites to dispose of bodies in the open air.
While sites like these are not uncommon in certain parts of india, several peculiarities hint at something more unusual…
- None of the bodies depicted in the photograph were identified. Villagers from nearby, though initially surprised at the sheer number of corpses in the dakhma, proved unable to recognize the bodies. The corpses also do not match the descriptions of the missing people.
- There were no animals around except for maggots and flies. Zoroastrians rely on birds (i.e. buzzards) to dispose of the bodies, in the belief they are contributing back to the Earth. Officials found the corpses relatively untouched by any sort of animal.
- There is no official count of the bodies. In fact, little work was actually accomplished at the site and, perhaps, this is why only one photograph has emerged. Officials avoided the spot - not only because they felt uneasy looking at it, but for the following, as well:
- The deep pit in the center of the photograph was filled with several feet of festering blood - far more than the bodies on the outside could ever supply. The stench was so unbearable that many of the officials began to get nauseous when they first approached the dakhma.
- The expedition was ended when a villager accidentally kicked a small bone into the pit, penetrating the coagulated surface of the pool. A massive burst of gas from the decomposing blood erupted from the pit, splashing those looking into it, along with the photographer.
Those caught in the explosion were immediately sent to the hospital, where they were quarrantined for possible infection. They became delirious with fever, shouting about "being tainted with the blood of Ahriman" (the personification of evil in Zoroastrianism), despite never having admitted having any familiarity with the religion.
In fact, many of them had no idea what the dakhma was when they had found it. Delirium turned to insanity as many began to attack hospital staff until they were sedated. The fever eventually killed all of them.
When officials returned with HAZMAT gear the following day, the site was empty. All the bodies had been removed and, astonishingly, the pool of blood inthe pit had been drained. All that remained of the incident was this photograph.
They say that somewhere in western America, some say in Utah,...
They say that somewhere in western America, some say in Utah, others say on the California coast, there's a certain small motel on the side of the road.
When you go inside, it's decorated in very common hotel decor, with the ornate paneling and old-fashioned key-lock doors.
The thing is, there's a room in there for everybody. Everybody has a reservation for exactly when they show up, and the number of rooms available is always one more than the number of people there. One person to a room, that is the rule.
Some say that the song "Hotel California" is based off this motel, though you can leave this particular motel.
I wouldn't advise looking at a mirror for at least a month after doing so, though.
During a wedding reception of a young couple the guests decided...
During a wedding reception of a young couple the guests decided on a drunken game of hide and seek. It was decided that the groom was "it" and he eventually found everyone but his new bride. Eventually the man became furious and decided it wasn't funny anymore and left her there. As weeks went by he accepted that she'd had second thoughts and went on with her life so he did the same.
A few years later a cleaning lady dusted off an old trunk in the attic of the building where the reception had taken place, out of curiosity she opened it. Inside the trunk was the rotted body of the missing bride who'd apparently became locked in the trunk she'd hid in. Whether she'd suffocated or starved was unknown, but her face was frozen in a scream and there were huge scratches in the inside of the trunk where she had tried to get back to the man she loved.
It's early morning. The sun won't be up for another couple of...
It's early morning. The sun won't be up for another couple of hours. You're fast asleep in bed, lost in a dream, when the phone rings. Rather than waking up, you roll over and cover your head with a pillow.
Hours pass. The sun rises.
The phone is ringing.
When you wake up, your alarm clock is blaring and the phone is ringing. By the time you will yourself to turn the alarm off, the phone has stopped ringing. You realize that it's been ringing all morning.
You slide out of bed and press the blinking red button on your phone as you stumble into the bathroom. The phone beeps, followed by the friendly, electronic voice.
"Hello. You have six hundred and sixty-six new messages. Message one." The phone beeps again, and you're not prepared for what comes next."
Screaming.
You spin around, thinking that she's standing right behind you. There's pure terror in her screams, accompanied by other disturbing noises. You stand there, horrified, for about ten seconds. Screaming gives way to hysterical, garbled crying before dying out with the sounds of spilling meat and tearing flesh.
The phone beeps again. You're shaking.
"Message two."
Disney built the "Treasure Island" resort in...
Disney built the "Treasure Island" resort in Baker's Bay in the Bahamas. It didn't START as a ghost town! Disney's cruise ships would actually stop at the resort and leave tourists there to relax in luxury. This is a FACT. Look it up.
Disney blew $30,000,000 on the place… yes, Thirty Million Dollars. Then they abandoned it.
Disney blamed the shallow waters (too shallow for their ships to safely operate) and there was even blame cast on the workers, saying that since they were from the Bahamas, they were too lazy to work a regular schedule.
That's where the factual nature of their story ends. It wasn't because of sand, and it obviously wasn't because "foreigners are lazy". Both are convenient excuses.
No, I sincerely doubt those reasons were legitimate. Why don't I buy the official story? Because of Mowgli's Palace.
Near the beachside city of Emerald Isle in North Carolina, Disney began construction of "Mowgli's Palace" in the late 1990s. The concept was a Jungle-themed resort with a large, you guessed it, PALACE in the center of the whole thing.
If you're unfamiliar with the character of Mowgli, then you might better remember the story "The Jungle Book". If you haven't seen it anywhere else, you'd know it as the Disney cartoon from decades past.
Mowgli is an abandoned child, in the jungle, essentially raised by animals and simultaneously threatened/pursued by other animals.
Mowgli's Palace was a controversial undertaking from the start. Disney bought up a ton of high-priced land for the project, and there was actually a scandal surrounding some of the purchases. The local Government claimed "eminent domain" on people's homes, then turned around and sold the properties to Disney. At one point a home that had just been constructed was immediately condemned with little to no explanation.
The land grabbed by the Government was supposedly for some fictional highway project. Knowing full well what was going on, people started calling it "Mickey Mouse Highway".
Then there was the concept art. A group of stuffed shirts from Disney Co. actually held a city meeting. They intended to sell everyone on how lucrative this project was going to be for everyone. When they showed the concept art, this gigantic Indian Palace… surrounded by JUNGLE… staffed with men and women in loincloths and tribal gear… well, suffice to say everyone flipped their shit.
We're talking about a large Indian Palace, Jungle, and Loincloths not only in the center of a relatively wealth area, but also a somewhat "xenophobic" area of the southern USA. It was a questionable mix at that point in history.
One member of the crowd tried to storm the stage, but he was quickly subdued by security after he managed to break one of the presentation boards over his knee.
Disney took that community and essentially broke it over its knee, as well. The houses were razed, the land was cleared, and there wasn't a damned thing anyone could do or say about it. Local TV and Newspapers were against the resort at the beginning, but some insane connection between Disney's media holdings and the local venues came into play and their opinions turned on a dime.
So anyway, Treasure Island, the Bahamas. Disney sunk those millions in and then split. The same thing happened with Mowgli's Palace.
Construction was complete. Visitors actually stayed at the resort. The surrounding communities were flooded with traffic and the usual annoyances associated with an influx of lost and irate tourists.
Then it all just stopped.
Disney shut it down and nobody knew what the Hell to think. But they were pretty happy about it. Disney's loss was pretty hilarious and wonderful to a large group of folks who didn't want this in the first place.
I honestly didn't give the place another thought since hearing it closed over a decade ago. I live maybe four hours from Emerald Isle, so really I only heard the rumblings and didn't experience any of it first-hand.
Then I read this article from someone who had explored the Treasure Island resort and posted a whole blog about all the crazy shit he found there. Stuff just… left behind. Things smashed, defaced, probably ruined by the disgruntled former employees who had lost their jobs.
Hell, the locals from all around probably had a hand in wrecking that place. People there felt just as angry about Treasure Island as folks here did about Mowgli's Palace.
Plus there were rumors that Disney had released their aquarium "stock" into the local waters when they closed… including sharks.
Who wouldn't want to take a few swings at some merchandise after that?
Well, what I'm getting at is that this blog about Treasure Island got me thinking. Even though many years had passed since its closing, I figured it might be cool to do some "Urban Exploration" at Mowgli's Palace. Take some photos, write about my experience, and probably see if there was anything I could take home as a memento.
I'm not going to say I wasted no time in getting there, because honestly it took me another year after I first found that Treasure Island article to get around to going up to Emerald Isle.
Over the course of that year, I did a lot of research on the Palace resort… or rather, I tried to.
Naturally, no official Disney site or resource made any mention of the place. That had been scrubbed clean.
Even odder, however, was that nobody before myself had apparently thought to blog about the place or even post a photo. None of the local TV or Newspaper sites had one word about the place, though that was to be expected since they had all swung Disney's way. They wouldn't be out there lauding their embarrassment, you know?
Recently, I learned that corporations can actually ask Google, for example, to remove links from search results… basically for no good reason. Looking back, it's probably not that nobody spoke of the resort, but rather their words were made inaccessible.
So in the end I could barely find the place. All I had to go on was an old-as-hell map I'd received in the mail back in the 90s. It was a promotional item sent out to people who had recently been to Disney world, and I guess since I had been there in the late 80s, that was "recent".
I didn't really intend to hang onto it. It just got shoved in with my books and comics from my childhood. I'd only remembered it months into my research, and even then it took me another few weeks to locate the storage bin my parents had shoved it all into.
But I DID find it. Locals were no help, as most were transplants who had moved to the beach in recent years… or old residents who just sneered at me and made rude gestures the second I managed to say "Where would I find Mowgli's—-"
The drive took me through an inordinately long corridor of overgrowth. Tropical plants that had run rampant and overpopulated the area mixed with the native species of flora that actually BELONGED there and had tried to reclaim the land.
I was in awe when I reached the front gates of the resort. Tremendous, monolithic wooden gates whose supports to either side looked like they must've been cut from giant sequoias. The gate itself had been gouged in several places by woodpeckers and eaten away at the base by burrowing insects.
Hanging on the gate was a sheet of metal, some random scrap, with hand-painted letters scrawled in black. "ABANDONED BY DISNEY". Clearly the handiwork of some past local or an employee who wanted to make some small protest.
The gates were open enough to walk through, but not drive, so grabbing my digital camera and the map, whose flip-side showed a layout of the resort, I set off on foot.
The inner grounds of the place were just as overgrown as the entryway. Palm tree stood untended and ragged among piles of their own coconuts. Banana plants similarly stood in their own stinking, bug-riddled refuse. There was this sort of clash between order and chaos, as carefully planted rows of perennial flowers mixed with obnoxious tall weeds and stinking, blackened mushrooms.
All that remained of any outdoor structures were broken, rotting wood and various charred bits of unidentifiable material. What was most likely an information booth or an outdoor bar was now simply a pile of assorted debris chopped up by past vandalism and ravaged by weather.
The most interesting thing on the grounds was a statue of Baloo, the friendly bear from the Jungle Book, which stood in a sort of courtyard in front of the main building. He was frozen in a jovial wave toward no one, staring into empty space with a silly, toothy grin as bird shit covered whole swaths of his "fur" and vines ensnared his platform.
I approached the main building - the PALACE - only to find the outside of the building covered in graffiti where the original paint hadn't peeled and chipped away. The front doors weren't just open, they had been taken off their hinges and were stolen.
Above the front doors, or the gaping maw where they had been, someone had once again painted "ABANDONED BY DISNEY".
I wish I could tell you about all the awesome stuff I saw inside the Palace. Forgotten statues, abandoned cash registers, a full-fledged secret society of homeless bums… but no.
The inside of the building was so stark, so bare, that I actually think people had stolen the molding off the walls. Anything that was too big to steal… counters, desks, giant fake trees… they were all resting amid this empty echo chamber that amplified my every step like a slow rat-a-tat of a machine gun.
I checked the floorplan and headed to all the locations that might seem in any way interesting. The kitchen was as you'd imagine… an industrial food prep area with all the appliances and space, no expenses spared. Every glass surface was broken, every door knocked off its hinges, every metal surface kicked and dented. The entire place smelled like very old piss.
The huge freezer, not even remotely cool now, had row upon row of empty shelf space. Hooks hung from the ceiling, probably for hanging cuts of meat, and as I stood inside for a moment, I noticed they were swinging.
Each hook swung in a random direction, but their movements were so slow and small that it was almost impossible to see. I figured it had been caused by my footsteps, so I stopped one from swinging by clutching it in my fist, then carefully letting go, but within seconds it started to swing once more.
The bathrooms were in much the same state as the rest of the place. Just like the Treasure Island resort, someone had methodically smashed each porcelain commode with coconuts and other implements. There was about a half inch of rancid, stinking stagnant water on the floor, so I didn't stay there very long.
What's odd is that the toilets and the sinks (and the bidets in the ladies' room, yes I went there) all dripped, leaked, or just ran freely. It seemed to me that they should've shut the water off long, LONG ago.
There were plenty of rooms in the resort, but naturally I didn't have time to look through them all. The few I did peer into were similarly wrecked, and I didn't expect to find anything there. I thought there was actually a television or radio in one room, as I really think I heard a quiet conversation coming out.
Though it was like a whisper, probably my own breathing echoing in the silence, or just another case of the sound of flowing water playing tricks on the mind, this is what it sounded like…
1: "I didn't believe it."
2: (short, unknown reply)
1: "I didn't know that. I didn't know that."
2: "Your father told you."
1: (unknown reply, or possibly just weeping.)
I know, I know, that sounds ridiculous. I'm just telling you what I experienced, why I thought there might've been something running in that room - or worse, some vagrants who had holed up there and probably would've knifed me.
At the front doors of the Palace again, I figured I hadn't found anything of note and had wasted the trip up.
As I looked out the door, I noticed something interesting in the courtyard that I had apparently missed. Something that would give me at least ONE thing to show for all my trouble, even if it was just a photograph.
There as a lifelike statue of a python, maybe eighty feet long, coiled up and "sunning" itself on a pedestal right in the center of the area. It was almost time for the sun to start setting, so the light fell onto the object in the PERFECT way for a photograph.
I approached the python and snapped a photo. Then I stood on my toes and snapped another. I moved closer again to get the detail of its face.
Slowly, casually, the python lifted its head, looked directly into my eyes, turned, and slithered off the pedestal, across the grass, and into the trees.
All eighty feet of it. Its head long disappeared into the woods before its tail even left the sunning spot.
Disney had released all their exotic animals onto the grounds. Right there on my floorplan map was the "Reptile House". I should have known. I'd read about the sharks at Treasure Isle, and I should have KNOWN they'd done this.
I was dumbfounded, just utterly stupefied. My mouth must've been hanging open for the longest time before I came back down to Earth and snapped it shut. I blinked a few times and backed away from where the snake had been, back toward the Palace.
Even though it was totally gone, I still wasn't taking any chances and backed my way into the building.
It took a few deep breaths and slaps to my own face to get myself right in the head again after that.
I looked for a place to sit down, as my legs were feeling a bit like jelly at this point. Of course, there WAS no place to sit down unless I wanted to recline in the broken glass and dead leaf carpet or haul myself up onto a desk of questionably reliability.
I had seen some stairs near the Palace's lobby and decided to go have a seat there until I felt better.
The staircase was far enough away from the front of the building to be relatively clean, save for a startling accumulation of dust. I pulled a wedge of metal off the wall, once again painted with the "ABANDONED BY DISNEY" motto I'd become accustomed to. I placed the wedge on the stairs and sat on it to keep at least somewhat clean.
The stairway led downward, below ground level. Using my camera flash as a sort of improvised flashlight, I could see that the stair case ended in a metal mesh door with a padlock. A sign on the door… a REAL sign… read "MASCOTS ONLY! THANK YOU!".
This perked up my spirits a little bit, for two reasons. One, a Mascots-Only area would have definitely had some interesting stuff back in the day… Two, the padlock was still in place. Nobody had gone down there. Not the vandals, not the looters, nobody.
This was the one place I could actually "explore" and perhaps find something interesting to photograph or wantonly steal. I had come to the Palace essentially agreeing with myself that it was okay to take anything I wanted because - hey - "abandoned".
It didn't take much to bust the lock. Well, actually that's wrong. It didn't take much to bust the metal plate on the wall that the padlock was hooked to. Time and decay had done most of the work for me, and I was able to bend the metal plate enough to pull the screws out of the wall - something nobody else had apparently thought of, or hadn't been able to do at the time.
The Mascots-Only area was a startling and very welcomed change from the rest of the building I'd seen. For one, every second or third fluorescent light overhead was illuminated, even though they flickered and faded randomly. Also, nothing had been stolen or broken, even if age and exposure were definately taking their toll.
Tables had note pads and pens, there were clocks… even a punch-in clock on the wall complete with filled-out time cards. Chairs were scattered around and there was even a small break room with an old, static-filled television and long rotted-out food and drink on the counters.
It was like one of those post-apocalypse movies where everything is left in the state of evacuation.
As I walked the maze-like sub-basement hallways of the Mascots-Only area, the sights just became more and more interesting. As I went further, desks and tables were knocked over, papers scattered and almost melded with the damp floor, and a large carpet of mold was slowly overtaking the real rotting crimson floor-covering.
Everything was just sort of "squishy". Anything wood disintegrated into mush when I applied even the least amount of force, and clothing items hanging on hooks in one of the rooms simply fell to moist threads if I tried to unhook them.
One thing that annoyed me was that the light was becoming more sparse and unreliable as I went further into the dank, suffocating depths of the place.
Eventually, I reached a black and yellow striped door with the words "CHARACTER PREP 1" stenciled on it.
The door wouldn't open at first. I figured this was probably where the costumes were kept, and I definately wanted a photograph of that twisted, stinking mess. Try as I might, whatever angle or trick I tried, the door wouldn't budge.
That is, until I gave up and started to walk away. That was when there was a slight popping sound and the door creaked open slowly.
Inside, the room was completely dark. Pitch black. I used the camera flash to look for a light switch in the wall buy the door, but there was nothing.
As I made my search, I was jarred out of my sense of excitement by a loud electrical buzz. Rows of lights overhead suddenly flashed to life, flickering and fading in and out like the rest I had passed.
It took a second for my eyes to adjust, and it seemed like the light was going to just keep getting brighter until all the bulbs exploded… but just when I thought it would reach that critical stage, the lights dimmed a bit and steadied.
The room was exactly as I had pictured it. Various Disney costumes hung on the walls, fully put together like strange cartoon cadavers hung from invisible nooses.
There was an entire rack of loincloths and "native" clothes on hangers toward the back.
What I found odd, and what I wanted to photograph right away, was a Mickey Mouse costume at the center of the room. Unlike the other costumes, it was lying on its back in the center of the floor like a murder victim. The fur on the costume was rotten and shedding, creating bare patches.
What was even odder, however, was the coloring of the costume. It was like a photo negative of the actual Mickey Mouse. Black where he should be white and white where he should be black. His normally red overalls were light blue.
The sight was off-putting enough that I actually put off photographing the thing until last.
I took a picture of the costumes hanging on the walls. Upward angles, downward angles, side shots to show an entire row of frozen, putrid cartoon faces, some with plastic eyes missing.
Then I decided to stage a shot. Just one of the bedraggled character heads on the slick, grimy floor.
I reached for the headpiece of a Donald Duck costume and carefully removed it so the thing wouldn't fall apart in my hands.
As I looked into the face of the wide-eyed, moldering head, a loud clattering sound made me jump with fright.
I looked down at my feet, and there between my shoes was a human skull. It had fallen out of the mascot head and shattered into pieces at me feet; only the empty face and lower jaw remained, staring up at me.
I dropped the Duck head immediately, as you'd expect, and moved for the door. As I stood in the doorway, I looked back to the skull on the floor.
I had to take a picture of it, you know? I HAD to, for any number of reasons that may seem silly, but only if you don't think it through.
I'd need proof of what happened, especially if Disney was going to somehow make this go away. I had no doubt in my mind, right from the start, that even if it was just gross negligence, Disney was RESPONSIBLE for this.
That's when Mickey, that photo negative, opposite-Mickey in the middle of the floor, started to get up. First sitting up, then climbing to its feet, the Mickey Mouse costume… or whoever was inside of it, stood there at the center of the room, its fake face just starting directly at me as I mumbled "No…" over and over and over…
With shaking hands, a violently thrashing heart, and legs that had once again turned to jelly, I managed to lift the camera and aim it at the opposite creature now quietly sizing me up.
The digital camera's screen displayed only dead pixels in the shape of the thing. It was a perfect silhouette of the Mickey costume. As the camera moved in my unsteady hands, the dead pixels spread, marring the screen wherever Mickey's outline moved to.
Then the camera died. Went blank and quiet and… broken.
I raised my eyes once again to the Mickey Mouse costume.
"Hey," it said in a hushed, perverted, but perfectly executed Mickey Mouse voice, "Wanna see my head come off?"
It started to pull at its own head, working its clumsy, glove-clad fingers around its neck with clawing, impatient movements similar to a wounded man trying to pull himself free of a predator's jaws…
As it worked its digits into its neck… so much blood…
So much thick, chunky, yellow blood…
I turned away as I heard a sickening tearing of cloth and flesh… only cared about getting away. Above the doorway out of this room, I saw the final message clawed into the metal with bone or fingernails…
"ABANDONED BY GOD"
I never got the pictures out of the camera. I never wrote the blog entry about it. After I ran from that place, fled for my sanity if not my very life, I knew why Disney didn't want anyone to know about this place.
They didn't want anyone like me getting in.
They didn't want anything like that getting out.
Credited to SlimeBeast
Photo
Photo
Submitted by the-monsters-closet.
Submitted by the-monsters-closet.
are you a boy or girl?
i'm a pickle.
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