roslyn
Alphabet Squire
Posts: 3
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Post by roslyn on Aug 1, 2018 11:37:17 GMT
As for weird things that happened here. My apartment backs on to a creek and is full of antiques and curios (weird things, not expensive things, my sister describes my house as looking like ‘Dumbledore and Baba Yaga got drunk and argued over interior design’).
My friends joke that everything works ‘a little different’ here. Gravity is slower, I tell them, cos things just fall over at random.
And I often get visitors who come at night asking if there is a ‘thing’ that lives down the steep slope to the creek. One mentioned it looking like ‘a weird, long armed thing.’
Can’t say I don’t enjoy having the ‘weird’ house, given I am a storyteller and librarian - new tales are always welcome!
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DoctorTOC
Travelling Wordsmith
Solving the puzzle, turning the key...
Posts: 49
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Post by DoctorTOC on Sept 4, 2018 13:09:28 GMT
I feel awfully sorry for the person on this thread that did I really appreciate that. Thank you.
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akelis
Member of the Order of the Quill
Constantly Failing Saving Throws Against Gravity
Posts: 102
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Post by akelis on Sept 11, 2018 12:24:17 GMT
While perhaps not simply *my* fear, I live within walking distance of the sites of seven different murders and less than four miles from the location of one of the most puzzling crimes to happen in this area (the bodies of six young women and a child found stuffed in a series of oil drums and partially submerged in the lake which serves as the source of town drinking water for much of the area. I have never been so very pleased with having a well for our water as I was after learning about that case. At the time these bodies were found I was a pre-teen and walking home from school required about 2 miles of secluded woodland paths if I didn't want to take the long route around through town. I admit to walking those woods far more often than I'm sure my family would have liked, and being fairly sure I saw some "things" at different points.
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mal
Alphabet Squire
Posts: 1
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Post by mal on Jul 12, 2019 13:45:25 GMT
It's not really an experience or a classic fear, but I've always had a phobia for buttons. I've worn buttoned clothing twice, and both of those times were during surgeries where the hospital demanded it for safety. They make me incredibly uncomfortable and anxious, and it's been like that forever. Or at least since I was old enough to protest against them. I've learned to live with them when other people wear them because i obviously can't control that, but they still make me uncomfortable to be near. I have no idea why I have this irrational fear, but I guess that's why it's irrational... It sometimes makes me wonder
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Post by vvodkaa on Aug 13, 2019 3:36:41 GMT
This isn't so much a fear I have as it is just a strange thing I experience, but you said in an interview that you use common things and turn them into something scary. Here's my 'normal', but just slightly strange thing. Maybe it has some horror potential? I have this weird, disturbing recurring dream. When it happens it always occurs kind of when I am sort of dozing rather than in deep rem sleep, but I still can't really wake up either. It's comparable to sleep paralysis maybe but there is no terror or helpless feeling really... In the "dream" I am sleeping. But I am vaguely aware of someone there and kind of open my eyes and see the person, he's older than me. Probably somewhere around late 50s to early 60s. I don't know who he is and it bothers me. He's kind of nondescript and average in most every way. No real discernable features. Just an average white man. He shouldn't be there but I'm not afraid necessarily just vaguely thrown off but my eyes "shut" in the dream again and I "sleep". My mind dreams other things but between dreams that man is always there. Its like he is the transition between each dream. Sometimes he kisses my forehead in a possessive (not sexual) way and I can literally feel his stubble scrape against my skin, it's surreal. Sometimes he just pats my hand, or just stands at the end of the bed staring. It feels so real. Like I was sleeping, woke up partially witnessed his presence in some way but not awake enough to really care or respond in any way and I just drift off again. When I finally do actually wake up for real in the morning I feel so disturbed and just... Off for the entire day. Also if he touched me in the dream that spot always feels kind of... Weird. Almost like it's remembering what the touch felt like... Not quite a tingle, but almost... Maybe the best way to describe it is a hyper awareness just in those nerve endings in that specific area. Like that sensation you get when someone is just nearly touching you but they aren't quite but you can still "feel" that somehow. It's so hard to describe that sesation but its slightly irratating and leaves me on edge. Also I have drained energy and am agitated as if I didn't sleep the night before. But I remember every dream and the disturbing transitions between each one with the old man so vividly. I don't know if I really described it very well. Its so hard to describe such a fuzzy, elusive experience while at the same time it feels so disturbingly hyper-real. 🤣🤣🤣 Is that clear as mud? 🙈🤦
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Post by somecrappyclone on Mar 12, 2020 4:58:21 GMT
while I am aware that the magnus archives have been most likely all written and recorded by this time, but I'm really writing this simply to tell my stories. I've only recently started listening, so there's another reason I guess? Immediately two memories come to mind, one is more ordinary and the other is a bit...weird? I'm not exactly sure how to describe that one because I feel like I'm going to start disassociating whenever I think about it However, both involve water and high school oddly enough. may not be considered odd rather than spooky or scary, but ah well. The first story: an incident involving a breif power outage in my high school It was a spring or fall day I think, regardless, it had been raining a lot that month. hell. it was raining that entire day. It was a school day and I remember overhearing multiple conversations that week about how the river and it's several branching paths had caused multiple people's basements to flood and about the potential thunderstorm warning that would occur start at first lunch and end before school was released. I had first lunch my sister was in second lunch, so I greeted her as she came in just as I packed up my lunchbox and headed to.. function stat trig (FST) i think. I pushed open the magnetic closing doors and sat down. The teacher for FST was a new teacher with only a few years of experience under his belt. he also that summer got married. if you want to imagine what he and his wife looked like, look up "up movie wedding pixar" but imagine carl built more like a stick and that's literally exactly what they looked like. We were being taught something, when the lights suddenly went out and people screamed as the sound of all the magnetic doors in the building swung shut in unison in a loud CLANG. the power was out. the doors were locked. a funny thing about this event; i live in the us, so, naturally i initially thought a shooter was in the building, obviously others thought that to as i heard the beginning of the rearrangement of tables and chairs, but it stopped when everyone realized what happened the funny thing about that classroom was, unlike most other classrooms in that high school, it had no windows to the outside. we were in complete darkness as people blindly searched for their phones for a flashlight. Eliot tried the door to the commons, it wouldn't budge. Chris tried to open the door to the locker bay, it was locked. so we sat there in silence trapped we could hear the thunder and lightning outside the emergency power then came on and all the doors CLICKED, unlocking once again. and then we were free SECOND STORY: context: like in the first story, it had been raining a lot that month and there was once again the talk of stories of flooding basements buzzing around the hallways. a flood warning popped up on the forecast that day. four inches (10.16 cm) of rain. all was to pour down from the sky before school was released. it was the car crash simulation day, every four years my high school does a fake car crash simulation in the school parking lot to show kids a bit more realistically what actually happened and what the real consequences of getting into a car crash can entail. they get an actual totaled car and have paramedics and a helicopter show up. basically, what would happen if a real serious car crash occurred. some theater kids would audition and have to act out the aftermath of a car crash that was the result of the driver driving home from prom drunk with a full car full of people. the flood warnings meant possible crashes, so no ambulances or anything could really arrive and having 1100 students and staff stand out in the rain for 1-2 hours isn't a great idea. it was second period, i don't remember what class I was in. but i remember very clearly hearing the telltale static of the intercoms come on and the principal's voice crackle out The announcement "The car crash in the (Town) High School Parking Lot had been rescheduled to Friday due to flash flood warnings, There also had been a miscommunication with the amount of hearses we wished to rent. apparently we accidentally rented 11 instead of 1, there may be further delays if this issue and refunds are not processed by then,"
if any of you would like to know a bit more about what occurred at the event when it actually happened. as I said before the setting was "aftermath of consequences of drunk driver driving car full of people from prom home and then getting hit at an intersection going well over the speed limit" all were decked out in nice dresses and tuxes, most covered in fake blood. one person was already dead, another dying and bleeding out, another unresponsive with surprisingly good makeup of their head bashed in, the driver had a head wound and had a broken arm and leg, one passenger had only a few cuts and scrapes. The middle isn't very interesting so here's the aftermath of the event: the first "dead" girl got to leave via being zipped up in a body bag then driven off in a hearse while "in the arms of the angel" was played in the background. another two were pulled in the ambulance and the driver and unharmed dude were driven off in separate police cars. the unresponsive but alive girl was Going to be flown away in a helicopter but the helicopter visit got canceled because it received information that there was an actual car crash that it needed to respond to during its flight over to the school. was neat.
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Post by NotYourMonster on Apr 12, 2020 23:51:05 GMT
Binging the episodes for the first time, and this continues to strike me:
It's painful and terrifying, being one of The Stranger's.
I should explain. I'm Autistic. And you people, you blissfully normal neurotypicals, you describe me and mine as monsters. Ole Ivar Lovaas described us as human ony in the physical sense, and developed a therapy to make us obedient and force us to pretend to be more like you-- by depriving us of food, drink, sleep, affection, attention, comfort, freedom of movement, and more save when we obey, and using punishments like electric shock (legally practiced in the Judge Rotenberg Center until March 4th of this year so severely it caused burns on the victims) to discourage disobedience. People get very, very angry at me when I say his therapy isn't humane, far more angry than I produce quotes of his painting me and my kind as inhuman.
Parents describe their children showing Autistic traits in terms of Not-Them, Autism stealing away a perfect, neurotypical child and replacing them with someone like me. To bring this child back, they advocate for cures, ignoring that the cure would erase everything about me that makes me myself, save my physical appearance. This is acceptable, because I'm not a person. Or else they'll say I'm too high functioning to count.
Low functioning usually just means intellectually disabled in addition to Autistic. The cure wouldn't raise anyone's IQ, but Autism and intellectual disability are so linked in some people's minds that it doesn't matter. So if you don't have enough IQ points, if you're not smart enough, it's okay to take away your personality and life. Neurotypicals do not seem to find this disturbing, but I feel a kinship to these people they would harm. I'm too smart to be called a tragedy, but I have most of the qualities that they deem so tragic.
I mask. I hide in plain sight. I pretend to be one of you. It's exhausting. It's monitoring the smallest movements-- every nod, every twitch of a finger, every scratched itch, the way I stand and sit, the placement of every footstep, each flicker of eye movement, every single goddamn word. It seems like it'd be safer to stay still than risk the wrong movement, but too much stillness is wrong, too. I painfully contort my body into something acceptable for you, and it physically hurts, not to mention the mental toll. It's a good thing I'm smart. Intelligence is the only reason I can keep track of all the meaningless-except-to-neurotypicals minutia and have any mental energy left for any of my own thoughts.
I've tried to kill my own thoughts. They're stubborn. They don't want to die. They prioritize themselves above normalcy, and they make points that make sense, that fill me with rage. Rage isn't safe. Rage is never safe. It leads to cruelty. I don't engage with anger, as much as possible.
I don't look Autistic anymore. I move and dress in the right ways. I look fearful, anxious, depressed. People guess that before Autism. A success, that the effort of making myself normal is lost in the painful cost of that effort. I've attempted suicide twice. I see what you mean when you call me a monster, or at the very least, I know the cost of being a monster in a society of humans. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I love humans. But so many of you seem so distressed by my very existence. I did nothing to you. I just am here. I didn't ask to be like this.
When I entertain the anger, it whispers that perhaps I should hate you all, like you hate me. Assume you are evil. Your habits are as alien to me as mine are to you, and I've shown you tolerance, but since you cannot return the favor, perhaps you don't deserve tolerance. Perhaps you deserve rage and hatred and violence in return for your pity masking hatred and disgust. But I try no to think like that, because I want to be a good person. If you can't call me human, I'll at least be humane.
When a parent kills their Autistic child, there is an outpouring of sympathy and empathy-- for the parent. The parent is still said to have loved the child they murdered. The parent just had no choice, because society and especially the child are too difficult. The child is always too difficult. The child might be as young as two years old, the child might be unable to say or spell the word 'difficult', but the child was too difficult. The murder is tragic, but not unforgivable to the public. I am twenty eight years old, and the news articles about filicide destroy me every time. After I read them, I avoid my parents for a few days. Just in case.
It hurts to be one of the Stranger's. It hurts every day. I do not think there is an end to the ways it can hurt, only a shifting of blows so that no one spot scars first.
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Post by Renee on Aug 7, 2020 16:56:45 GMT
So y'all are now on season 5, so not sure if you need any more, but here it goes. Not really all that spooky, but have the potential to become so?? Maybe?? I have a few. When I was about 7, I started finding locks (like old padlocks) all around my room, buried in my back yard, in my pocket, or one time in my bag. At first, I thought it was my parents or some kid from my school, but one week I stayed with my grandparents (who live in a different state) and they showed up there. Shortly after that, doors started locking after I entered (I remember being really pissed because I didn't know how to lock/unlock doors). It stopped as I grew up, but I mentioned it to my family one time and it turns out we didn't own any padlocks like the ones I described. The other one is that we have an old family home down in Louisiana that was built by my great-grandparents. Its an old plantation house (because the deep south sucked), so we also own a lot of the swamp around it. I've stayed there a lot, both by myself and with family, and we got used to all the weird swampy noises that happened all the time. One night, though, I was there with my cousin and we heard someone singing. We were a little spooked and very confused, as there are no other houses around for quite a while. We thought someone might have gotten lost (not all that unusual out there), so we grabbed our flashlights and went out. It was around 1-2 pm, and there are occasionally snakes and crocodiles out there, so we were hoping to find them and leave as soon as possible. We started to call out to them, asking if they needed help and so on, but they just kept singing. Eventually, my cousin said she saw a light, so we walked towards it. We rounded a corner and there was one of those really old lanterns on the ground, with no one near by. We left after that, and never heard it again. sorry this was long!
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