Need some scary stories for those nights by the campfire? Then look no further! We’ve got you covered. These stories may or may not be true.
Redditors submitted their own creepy stories, and my gosh are they ever creepy. Warning – read at your own risk.
A sound wakes you up, sounded like a knock on your front door. It’s way past midnight, you’re lying on the sofa with the TV on static. The house is dark, the lights are off. You’re all alone. You look out the window, see there’s a full moon, shining its light through the glass pane.
You get up and head towards the front door. You look through the peephole. No one outside. You open the door. Find no one. You check around the porch. Still no one. Maybe kids were playing tricks on you.
Annoyed, you shut the door, turn off the TV, close the window, and head upstairs to your bedroom for the night.
We bought an old house, my boyfriend and I. Hes in charge of the new construction converting the kitchen in to the master bedroom for instance, while Im on wallpaper removal duty. The previous owner papered EVERY wall and CEILING! Removing it is brutal, but oddly satisfying. The best feeling is getting a long peel, similar to your skin when you’re peeling from a sunburn. I don’t know about you but I kinda make a game of peeling, on the hunt for the longest piece before it rips.
Under a corner section of paper in every room is a persons name and a date. Curiosity got the best of me one night when I Googled one of the names and discovered the person was actually a missing person, the missing date matching the date under the wallpaper! The next day, I made a list of all the names and dates. Sure enough each name was for a missing person with dates to match. We notified the police who naturally sent out the crime scene team.
I overhead one tech say yup, its human. Human? Whats human?
Maam, where is the material you removed from the walls already? This isnt wallpaper you were removing.
Little Emily vanished last year. Now theyre pouring new sidewalks in my neighborhood, and Ive found her name in the wet cement, written in remembrance. But it was written in reverse. And from below.
Last night a friend rushed me out of the house to catch the opening act at a local bar’s music night. After a few drinks I realized my phone wasn’t in my pocket. I checked the table we were sitting at, the bar, the bathrooms, and after no luck I used my friend’s phone to call mine.
After two rings someone answered, gave out a low raspy giggle, and hung up. They didn’t answer again. I eventually gave it up as a lost cause and headed home.
I found my phone laying on my night stand, right where I left it.
He had been given the watch on his tenth birthday. It was an ordinary grey plastic wristwatch in every respect except for the fact that it was counting down. “That is all of the time you have left in the world, son. Use it wisely.” And indeed he did. As the watch ticked away, the boy, now a man, lived life to the fullest. He climbed mountains and swam oceans. He talked and laughed and lived and loved. The man was never afraid, for he knew exactly how much time he had left.
Eventually, the watch began its final countdown. The old man stood looking over everything he had done, everything he had built. 5. He shook hands with his old business partner, the man who had long been his friend and confidant. 4. His dog came and licked his hand, earning a pat on the head for its companionship. 3. He hugged his son, knowing that he had been a good father. 2. He kissed his wife on the forehead one last time. 1. The old man smiled and closed his eyes.
Then, nothing happened. The watch beeped once and turned off. The man stood standing there, very much alive. You would think that in that moment he would have been overjoyed. Instead, for the first time in his life, the man was scared.
If youre reading this note, Im sorry. I assume youre in the same situation as me—that smug bastard drugged you and dumped you in these catacombs, with only a candle to find your way out.
I dont know how many people hes done this to, but there have probably been a lot. He wouldnt spend so much time on it otherwise, would he? He told me the catacombs are a maze, and hes set traps and deadfalls at every turn. But he promised theres one safe way out, if Im lucky enough to guess the correct path.
Im not lucky. Im just an art student, here on holiday. Theres no way Im getting out alive. But I want someone to. I want revenge.
Im sure you do, too, so lets help each other. I still have my sketchbook and pencils. Before each turn, Im going to leave them behind for the next person, writing down which way I went. If I survive to another passageway, Ill come back and leave a page like this one. If I dont, then its up to the next person to carry on and go the opposite direction.
Eventually, if we keep leaving breadcrumbs, one of us will escape. Get to the police and find that bastard. Do it for those who didnt make it.
My name is Jeff. I went left here.
Reading the note by candlelight you feel a glimmer of hope, until you realize youre reading from the sketchbook itself. Jeff never returned to tear out the page, and youre the first person here since him.
You look to your right, where the dark maze awaits.
A Disney Cast Members’ top priority is the comfort and safety of our guests. For this reason, all Disney World employees must follow these rules. Failure to do so will result in disciplinary action.
Ask to examine the photos our guests have taken. Be friendly. Check for abnormalities. If any are found, call for security. Guests may be distracted with free merchandise.
Dead alligators are common around the Lagoon. Simply evacuate the area, call security, then take note of how much has been eaten.
There is only one Mickey out at once. If you find a second Mickey having an autograph session, check for eye holes. All Disney costumes have eye holes.
If you don’t find eye holes, allow the session to continue, but disallow photos. Call security immediately after the session concludes.
If you spot a second Mickey off to the side, lure him into the tunnels. That’s what the ducks are there for. Leave immediately afterwards, and do not look back.
The Disney World security unit does not wear specially marked clothing. If you see someone wearing a shirt that says “Disney Security”, shut down that section of the park immediately.
Following these rules will help ensure a safe and pleasurable trip to the happiest place on Earth. So stay knowledgeable, and stay safe.
I am a time traveler.
Or I mean I was.
You see, I was capable of travelling time however I pleased, past or present.
I was a scientist with a great mind, I think, being the only person in my time (no pun intended) to discover time travel. I say I think because I don’t really remember my past. When I discovered this ability, all I remember was euphoria. My vision sparked colors I’ve never seen before, my body dissipated into millions of tiny particles, and suddenly, I’m in another dimension of time. Amazing, right? The thing is, whenever I travel time, through that tunnel that propels all of the particles and atoms that are a part of me, I lose a portion of my memory, somewhere in that jumble of hyperspace. My first time travel, I forgot pretty much everything.
Ever since then, I’ve taken caution to how I time travel and how often I do it. I chose to limit my abilities to inhibit the possibility of forgetting something important. I’ve forgotten a multitude of things, some smaller than others. Around a year ago, I forgot the color of my hair, only to remember immediately upon seeing my reflection in the mirror. But it could get much worse, as I once forgot to how to breathe, forcing my own body to jump the engine when I passed out to allow myself to breathe on my own.
It was my curiosity that screwed me over.
On June 18, 9214, scientists, with the assistance of advanced supercomputers developed a prototype, an invention capable of previewing possible occurrences of forthcoming events. The minds of this millennium were able to see the freaking future. The display, provided by code and text, made expert computer programmers look like toddlers playing with C++. Nevertheless, it was read, making its predictions. It ran for 3 years, producing accurate images of the future. But in 9217, it ceased to continue. The image of the end date was incoherent, even to the damn supercomputers. Scientists theorized this would be the end of existence, the complete opposite of the big bang. Religious wackos marked this as the apocalypse and the end of God himself. I wanted to know better.
It provided a date of the year and a hazy image of a dark and decaying earth, just months before the end date. Being a time traveler, I enjoyed having the information no one else had. It made me feel wonderful. That’s why I decided to go there, to find out what the hell happens and go down in the books.
And I did. Boy, do I regret it.
I was trembling, my bowels loosened, my stomach turned. I was terrified.
Not because the tall man with the inhuman grin on his face was walking towards me.
Not because the deafening screams that were in my ears didn’t resemble humans.
Not because I had just found hell on earth.
But because I forgot how to time travel.
It was one a.m. and Guy Halverson sat in his dark living room. He hadnt moved for over an hour. The accident earlier that evening kept playing over and over in his mind. The light turned red, but he was in a hurry and accelerated. An orange blur came from his right, and in a split second there was a violent jolt, then the bicyclist rolled across his hood and fell out of sight on the pavement. Horns blared angrily and he panicked, stepping on the gas and screeching away from the chaos into the darkness, shaken and keeping an eye on his rearview mirror until he got home.
Why did you run, you idiot? Hed never committed a crime before this and punished himself by imagining years in jail, his career gone, his family gone, his future gone.
Why not just go to the police right now? You can afford a lawyer.
Then someone tapped on the front door and his world suddenly crumbled away beneath him. They found me. There was nothing he could do but answer it. Running would only make matters worse. His body trembling, he got up, went to the door and opened it. A police officer stood under the porch light.
Mr. Halverson? asked the grim officer.
He let out a defeated sigh. Yes. Let me—
I am terribly sorry, but Im afraid I have some bad news. Your sons bike was struck by a hit and run driver this evening. He died at the scene. Im very sorry for your loss.
Ive been able to read minds since I was a child. Its not really like how you see in the movies, though. Its not like listening to the radio. Its much more immersive. I experience everything as if Im really there. Its a thrilling experience when you read the right minds. The trouble is really with finding minds worth reading.
Frankly, reading adults is as fun as doing taxes. Kids minds, on the other hand, are amazing. Theyre not bogged down with work and stress and dissatisfaction. The mind of a child is filled with imagination and adventure. Thats why I became a kindergarten teacher.
I sit at my desk and watch as my class colors. I smile as they doodle away with their crayons. I reach out and peek into their minds. In an instant, I take off with Carlos in a rocket ship, hurtling past swirling galaxies. I visit far-off planets full of blob-like aliens and two-headed martians. I smile and move on to Marcy. I can smell the candy canes and jelly beans as Im pulled into a veritable candyland, complete with gumdrop castles and caramel waterfalls. She plays hopscotch with gingerbread men, giggling her musical little laugh.
Im about to move on to Thomas when I feel a tug at my dress. I look down to see Sarah. Shes one of the most adorable little girls Ive ever seen. Beautiful brown curls, big puppy dog eyes, and a gleaming smile.
Miss Dupree, I made this for you! she exclaims, handing me a paper. I take it from her and see myself in stick figure form. I Luv Ms. Doopry is scrawled across the top in multiple colors.
I love it! I exclaim and give her a great big hug.
Sarahs only been with the class for a couple days and I have yet to have a peek at her hopes and dreams. I reach out and touch her mind. And I nearly vomit.
I choke as Im hit with wave after wave of the hot, fetid stench of death. My minds eye is blinded by a darkness which seems almost alive, spilling into my brain, seeking to blot out everything it touches. In the void, I feel slimy coils roiling around me, wrapping around my legs, pressing against my face, a gigantic beast hungrily probing the darkness in search for food. And then a keening wail rises up, nearly bursting my eardrums. The screams of thousands of souls, crying out in sorrow. Crying out for death.
And then Im back in the classroom. I let go of Sarah and compose myself, hoping she cant see me shaking.
Thats a lovely picture, Sarah, I say, nearly whispering. Now go along and get ready for snack time, alright?
She nods happily and skips off. I watch her as she goes. The minds of children are the most wonderful thing in the universe. But whatever that thing in the blue dress is, it is no child.
Have you ever walked into a room and found a vampire?
No, not the sexy kind, but a foul creature with bony limbs and ashen skin? The kind that snarls as you enter, like a beast about to pounce? The kind that roots you to the spot with its sunken, hypnotic eyes, rendering you unable to flee as you watch the hideous thing uncoil from the shadows? Has your heart started racing though your legs refuse to? Have you felt time slow as the creature crosses the room in the darkness of a blink?
Have you shuddered with fear when it places one clawed hand atop your head and another under your chin so it can tilt you, exposing your neck? Have you squirmed as its rough, dry tongue slides down your cheek, over your jaw, to your throat, in a slithering search that’s seeking your artery? Have you felt its hot breath release in a hiss against your skin when it probes your pulse—the flow that leads to your brain? Has its tongue rested there, throbbing slightly as if savoring the moment? Have you then experienced a sinking, sucking blackness as you discover that not all vampires feed on blood—some feed on memories?
Well, have you?
Maybe not. But let me rephrase the question:
Have you ever walked into a room and suddenly forgotten why you came in?
Tom sat on the hard wooden staircase watching the front door, waiting. He really had to leave, but right as he was about to go an amazing joke came to him and he couldn’t keep it to himself. Since his daughters were due to come meandering through the door at any moment he decided that postponing for a few minutes wouldn’t cause any harm. His daughters usually rolled their eyes and let out exacerbated sighs when he delivered his comedy masterpieces, but they still smiled.He never was sure if the smiles were because of his unsurpassed hilarity or if they were laughing at his lame attempts at humor. Either way, nothing brightened his day more than seeing his girls with smiles adorning their beautiful faces.That is why he was delaying his departure, he had the dad joke to end all dad jokes and he hoped it would eventually bring a smile to their faces.
The door knob began to turn. Finally! Tom rose, hovering above his crumpled lifeless body as the girls entered the house. “Girls, watch out for that top step.” he chuckled “It is a real killer!” After delivering his witty gem he stopped resisting and relaxed as he was pulled into the light.
My daughter woke me around 11:50 last night. My wife and I had picked her up from her friend Sally’s birthday party, brought her home, and put her to bed. My wife went into the bedroom to read while I fell asleep watching the Braves game.
“Daddy,” she whispered, tugging my shirt sleeve. “Guess how old I’m going to be next month.”
“I don’t know, beauty,” I said as I slipped on my glasses. “How old?”
She smiled and held up four fingers.
It is 7:30 now. My wife and I have been up with her for almost 8 hours. She still refuses to tell us where she got them.
I don’t know why I looked up, but when I did I saw him there. He stood against my window. His forehead rested against the glass, and his eyes were still and light and he smiled a lipstick-red, cartoonish grin. And he just stood there in the window. My wife was upstairs sleeping, my son was in his crib and I couldn’t move I froze and watched him looking past me through the glass.
Oh, please no. His smile never moved but he put a hand up and slid it down the glass, watching me. With matted hair and yellow skin and face through the window.
I couldn’t do anything. I just stayed there, frozen, feet still in the bushes I was pruning, looking into my home. He stood against my window.
So we all know the story. You go downstairs to hear your mom calling you. She calls your name. She is in the kitchen. But then you turn and see your mom, hiding in the cupboard under the stairs. ‘Don’t go in the kitchen,’ she says. ‘I heard it too.’ It’s just a silly tale.
But imagine what happens next? You have to make a choice. You, a young kid, have to decide. You remember looking at the mom under the stairs. You remember her face even now. Shaking with fear, her eyes wide with terror. ‘Come here,’ she shouts, ‘quickly!’ But then you see the mother in the kitchen. She is looking at you with a curious expression at you, but not you. But she is tall, commanding. As if she would protect you. So you run to her. You are only four, what else could you do? She hesitates a little, then returns your embrace. And with that, the other mom disappears. Forever.
You have made your choice. You grow up having made your choice. But sometimes you wonder. Your mom looks at you, sometimes, with a strange expression, as if she doesn’t know you. You only grow more distant as you reach adulthood.
One day you leave to go to college. She looks at you again, curiously, distantly. She hugs you, but only for a second before she releases you. And for the first time in your life you allow yourself to wonder. Did you really make the right choice? Did you choose the right mom? And then, for the first time, you look properly into her eyes. You see for the first time what she is thinking. She is thinking the same thing. Did she choose the wrong child?
Grandpa Tim was a bit of a recluse, as my family liked to say. He lived out in the middle of nowhere in an old, dilapidated house. But when he came around, everyone listened. No one argues or disobeys his commands, as strange as they were.
For example, the time Tim convinced my Aunt Betty to purchase a life insurance policy on my Uncle Bill. Betty argued but gave in to Grandpa who insisted on paying for the policy. Two years later, Uncle Bill passed away from a sudden heart attack. Aunt Betty received a huge payout that helped Uncle Bills wife with the funeral costs.
Sometimes his advice would be to get checked at the doctor, even if you werent sick, and they would find a life threatening tumor inside you. Other times, it would be to stay home from work on a certain day and then youd see a twenty car pile up on the highway in the news. Grandpa Tim always knew exactly when to call.
When Tim died, I inherited all his possessions including his house. The lawyer instructed me to check his mailbox for a letter Tim left me.
I found myself opening a door in the basement and then almost fainting when I saw the endless cavern of hourglasses as far as the eye could see. The closest hourglasses to the door had the names of my family members etched on their bases. Thats when I saw the sand in my parents hourglasses about to run out. I called them and told them to not get on the plane heading to Tims funeral. The sand in their hourglasses refilled.
Everyone loves the first day of a new job, right? New colleagues, new friends. It’s a day full of potential and hope, before all the dreary depressions of reality show up to ruin all the fun.
I like the first day of work for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can… sense a sort of aura around them. A colored outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left.
A fair amount of them have a yellow-orangish tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a car crash or some other tragedy. Anything that takes people “before their time” as they say.
The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a walking stoplight. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered.
With that in mind, I always get to work very early so I can scout out my colleagues’ fates. The first man who walked in was basically radiating red. Too bad, bro. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my rose-tinted reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our boss stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green.
I left home in a hurry to pick up my son from school. Traffic was flowing pretty well that day, nothing on my way but a few red lights. It was while I was waiting at a red light that I noticed the woman.
I have no idea how long she had been standing there, staring at me, but once I noticed her I just could not look away. She was smiling like a maniac, and waving at me with one hand, while stroking a little boys hair with the other. The little boy, her son I assume, was wearing baggy brown clothes and a black goat mask. Now that was a very weird costume, plus, who wears a costume the day after Halloween?
He was also waving and staring at me through that unsettling mask but his waving felt uncomfortable and forced. The womans eyes, they could see right through me and I could almost physically feel her stare fixating on me. She wouldnt even blink. I felt naked and extremely unnerved. Now the boys eyes, God, the boys eyes were pleading and begging for help. The woman started to grow impatient, waving harder each passing second.
I looked away. For some reason I was terrified. I had to get out of there. Once the green light was on, after what had felt like forever, I took off. Didnt even dare to look back.
I thought nothing could be more terrifying than that extremely unsettling feeling I had felt under the stare of that woman and her son. But then I got to school, and they told me my son wasnt there. They told me my wife had already picked him up. But I dont have a wife. They handed me a note, saying she had asked them to give it to me. There are no words to describe what I felt when I read the note. Dont say I didnt give you a chance to say goodbye.
I froze, because I smelled it on her. It was a sweet sickly stink that pervaded my nostrils, and made my eyes water. She is smiling and patting my head now. It has already spread; she’s got 3 weeks tops. All I can do is lower my head, whine, and wag my tail in sympathy.
I dont want to sound mean, but the dead are pretty clueless. Ive always seen them. When I was younger everyone thought I was just talking to imaginary friends. After a couple years, when I overheard my parents talk about calling a psychologist, I realized what I was talking to. See, ghosts dont tend to realize theyre dead, and they dont look like in the movies, they look just like us.
Im pretty smart for a 13 year old, so I started noticing certain patterns to tell them apart from the living. They could be a bit distant from living people, or youd see them try to talk to people who wouldnt even notice them. Some of them could tell I was different, that I noticed them. Like this guy I saw after school yesterday. Im a big boy now, see, I dont need my parents to pick me up, home is just a short walk away. He was standing away from the other parents, didnt talk to them, just stared at me, thats how I knew he was one of the ghosts. I went over, told him I knew what he was and asked how I could help him. I dont remember much after that, I think because of what happened this morning.
Downstairs, my parents were crying. I tried talking to them but they ignored me. They must have died last night somehow, sometimes the new ghosts wouldnt talk to me. Some police officers and reporters just arrived, they wont talk to me either, just my parents. Its weird, Ive never seen so many ghosts together before. Why wont anyone talk to me?
I remember the day the spider-like creatures swarmed out of their holes and covered the moon’s surface. NASA telescopes captured high definition video of the masses of creatures, throbbing and heaving as far as the eye could see. They were as big as cars and I nearly lost my mind when I caught a glimpse of them on the news.
I remember the ensuing months as humanity reacted to the presence of new life in our solar system. Many wanted to nuke the lunar surface until it was glass. Others wanted to make peace. Some worshiped them as gods. Personally, whenever I looked up at the moon, brownish red with the skittering bodies of monsters, I could barely stop myself from shaking.
I remember when CNN broke footage of the creatures building massive ships on the surface. They were intelligent. This was enough to cause near panic. They were coming to us.
I remember the day they sent their first message. The sound was harsh and guttural and interspersed with a horrible clicking. Top linguists around the world were called in to translate.
I remember two weeks later when the brownish red tint of the moon gave way to the milky white we had almost forgotten as the monsters entered into their ships. Earth was on high alert, all nations armies prepared for assault. And then the ships took off and left in the opposite direction.
And I remember the next day, when the linguists finally decoded the strange message and played it for the whole world to hear: If you value your lives, run.
To celebrate their first year in university, six friends went camping in the wilderness. After driving for several hours from the nearest town, they discovered a lagoon, nestled beside a cliff ideal for diving. They set up camp in the woods nearby and spent the evening swimming in the warm, clear water. As the sun sunk below the trees, one of the friends went up to the highest point on the cliff and jumped off, while the other 5 watched. Their laughter slowly subsided as they waited for him to surface. It only took half a minute for them to dive in after their friend. Struggling and sputtering among the reeds in the lagoon, they searched hopelessly for him. Finally they disentangled themselves and came up, but they never saw their friend again. Heartbroken they returned to the city and passed a strange and lonely year in which their only solace was the knowledge that they would return to the lagoon to honour the anniversary of their friend’s death.
A year passed and they returned to the lagoon as a memorial, but as they approached they saw their friend standing there, head bowed. Excitedly they called to him and began running towards him, but he didn’t turn. As they got closer they called him more desperately, but still to no avail. With joy they ran towards him, but stopped dead when they saw not one but five crosses on the waterside.
Julia knew she was smart. She was one of those clever children, the kind of child who figures out early on that parents arent all-powerful and all-knowing.
The first time she realized this was when she got scared. There had been a noise in her room, coming from under her bed, or from the closet.
Julia ran down the hall, crying, Mommy! Daddy!
Whats wrong, honey?
I huh-heard a m-monster, Julia glubbed.
She expected them to comfort her, or roll their eyes, or get annoyed. Instead, they jumped up immediately and raced to her bedroom, where they checked under the bed, inspected the closet, and tested the window lock. They poked, prodded, and scoured every inch.
Julia caught on quickly. She knew what they were doing. By taking her fears seriously, they were showing their little girl that she was safe and loved. They had probably read about it in some book.
But the lesson Julia learned was that she had power. Thereafter, waking her parents became a nightly event. Julia would scream and cry, they would rush to her bedroom, and Julia would hide her grin behind tears. But not once did they ever complain.
One night she could stand it no longer, and she burst out laughing when Daddy fell down while examining the light fixture, as if a monster could fit up there.
Whats so funny? he asked, rubbing his backside.
You, Julia smirked. You always believe me.
Daddy wasnt angry. He just looked at Mommy.
Once, he said quietly, just once, we didnt believe your brother.
And Julia, an only child, did not sleep well that night.
Onto the world was born a three-eyed angel, with one eye that could see the past, one eye that could see the present, and one eye that could see the future.
On the first day, locals assembled to watch as the angel opened his eye to the past. He saw all the horrors we had endured and caused: the bloodshed, the murders, the pointless abuse, and the centuries of strife. He shed a single tear for every victim, until hed cried so many tears the eye rotted away.
On the second day, the word had spread to nearby villages and they joined the locals as they witnessed the angel opening his eye to the present. He saw the wars in the Middle East, the famine in the South, the corruption and the greed. Once he had seen it all, he sewed his eye shut so it would never open again.
On the final day, a crowd of thousands had amassed at the gates to watch the three-eyed angel as he opened his eye to the future. It took only an instant before the angel shrieked, swung his hand up, and gouged his eye out.
Generally, life as an astrophysicist is boring. Cataloging data. Playing around with theories. Though we do see things from time to time that….invigorate our work.
Three months ago, we were privileged to see a star, SB1074, simply….disappear. 42 light years from Earth, it was amazing. No black hole. No supernova. It just….vanished.
It caused a stir in our scientific community. Theories were tossed out. Hypotheses were made. It was an exciting time.
A week later, when another star, SL2044, did the same, we redoubled our efforts, Symposia were held. Professors from all over met. Discussions over champagne, expensive wines, ludicrously priced dinners were had. People talked about upcoming papers, theories to teach in their colleges.
Two weeks later, when 27 stars had vanished, the novelty wore off.
We were still working, but the tone had grown grim. It wasn’t limited to a single area of space. They were vanishing from all over.
Mostly this was still only an observation of the scientific community. We would occasionally get the random email from an amateur stargazer, who had noticed something odd.
Three weeks ago, when the total reached 398 vanished stars, there was no humor. Just a sense of…..dread.
Everyone that attended our university in this field, students and professors, had been asked to compose all their thoughts, ideas, concepts, etc. We were going to meet today at 1 p.m. to discuss our theories.
As I stand in my bedroom, looking out the window, I can’t help but feel that our scheduled conference is a waste of time. After all, it’s 10:45 in the morning. And it’s pitch black outside.
I used to live in a small building downtown. One of the reasons I moved out was the bad neighborhood, including this guy in the apartment right over mine. Every night around midnight, I would hear a strange noise coming from his apartment. It wasn’t loud, to be fair, but I’m a light sleeper so it was hard to get my eyes shut with those little bumping sounds. It reminded me of high heels walking about, but not as loud, as if the person causing the noise was actually trying to be silent. After a few days, I realized the pattern was always the same, like a recording played over and over with random intervals in between. And that went on for the best part of an year, always the same sequence of bumps, slowly tattooed into my mind, sometimes for hours straight during the night.
It was only several years later, helping my daughter with her homework, that I learned a little bit of morse code. She knocked on the table with her knuckles and a shiver immediately went through my spine as I recognized that exact pattern. When i asked her what it meant, she laughed. “It’s the easiest one, daddy” she said. “It’s the one to call for help.”.
The deal was simple; wed get to ask him a couple of questions and he got to ask us a couple of questions. A bit odd if you ask me. What could The Devil possibly want to know from us? I couldnt tell you.
Is heaven real? I asked.
Yes, he replied, his voice like dying embers in a fireplace, and so is hell.
Who goes to heaven?
Whoever God wants there.
Im afraid thats much too vague for us.
Whats that like? he asked, his eyes perking up.
Whats it like to be afraid?
A bit confused, I tried my best to describe the feeling of fear. My explanation was a bit clumsy but he appeared to be satisfied with it.
Whyd you want to know that? I asked.
Because when God made me, he didnt give me the ability to feel fear. I cant feel lots of things.
What can you feel?
I got us back on track.
Can you elaborate on your answer from before? About heaven?
Of course. Heaven is open to all of Gods creations, whatever they do.
I breathed a sigh of relief. When I was called in, the people in charge told me that my primary objective was to secure information on how humanity could get to heaven. With that sorted, anything else I gathered was a bonus.
Are you going to heaven too? Since you were created by God, I asked.
I could, but I wont, he replied.
Because I committed the most egregious sin. I did something only God was supposed to do.
I tried to create angels. They didnt work out. My angels were made in my image, so I guess Im to blame. All they do is cause suffering and destruction, so God said they had to go to hell, to suffer for an eternity
You mean the demons?
Yes, I guess I do. I couldnt go to heaven, not while my creations were suffering. So I decided that when the time came, I would travel to hell and suffer with them.
Because I love them.
I checked my watch, Time’s almost up.
Yes it is. he replied.
I have to go back and get debriefed. I said, preparing to leave the facility. Theyll be ecstatic when they get the good news.
And what might that be?
That no matter what we do, were going to heaven.
But you’re not, or anyone else for that matter.
But, I said, my voice wavering, You said…
Yes, I know what I said my child. But you’re not one of God’s creations, he said with a tone I would mistake for sadness if I didnt know better,
Youre one of mine.
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