amityville horror (ish)
You know when the little girl sees the devil in Amityville Horror & it's a little pig called Jodie that appears at the window with red glowing eyes? Well one day I was in my room (on the 5th floor) & I see those red eyes at my window...BIG HEARTY BANG BANG SHIVERY UPSY DOWNSY SCARESY URKSINESS! But then I just thought to myself 'well this is it - I'm just going to accept it - I'm not getting into all that running around hiding in closets that get hacked down/ running into basements that have something even worse in blah blah blah' so I calmly walked towards the 2 glowing eyes of the devil. And realized it was the reflection in the window of the video player behind me on it's neutral flashing - - setting.
doh!
(boduchess, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 22:57, 4 replies)

Noseybonk
Even creepier than Tom Baker's face appearing out of the stars at the beginning of Doctor Who.
(foisty, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 22:45, 8 replies)

So I was chopping some trees the other day...
when I suddenly I heard a hissing noise, as I turned around there was a loud bang, and then the blackness.

Bloody Creepers.
(Dante licked your nipple on, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 22:31, Reply)

Major Tomskii
Granted, the truth behind the claims is difficult to ascertain - but the alleged transmissions of a failing heatbeat and gradual cessation of breathing from a dying cosmonaut as he careened ever further from the planet (and was later, the story goes, airbrushed from history) are certainly a bit eery. This woman's 'last transmission' is quite unsettling, too.

To be fair, I have no idea how true this is. It seems vaguely plausible, but the 'lost cosmonauts' site itself doesn't exactly fill one with confidence. No-one seems to be absolutely certain, either way.
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 22:30, 9 replies)

Two things have really put the willies up me
The Exorcist, and Pet Sematary.

The night I saw The Exorcist I couldn't sleep, and the night I finished reading Pet Sematary I couldn't sleep.

Good thing I didn't do both on the same night.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 22:21, 2 replies)

"I Like The Way You Move" by the Bodyrockers.
(Here, if you've never heard it.) The breathy spoken intro, "I like the way you like to touch... I like the way you stare at me so much... (etc.)" is clearly meant to be sleazy and sexy, but to my mind he sounds like he's doing a bit of one-handed juggling and supplying a commentary.

It's so awful and rapey I feel uncomfortable being on my own in the same room as the radio when it's being played. I dread to think what effect it has on women.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 22:08, Reply)

One for the /offtopic crew here
www.b3ta.com/questions/offtopic/post860110
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 21:54, 10 replies)

My imagination is creepier than anything I've seen on the internet.
In Viz this month there is a mock news article about a woman who has 'never seen THAT Debbie McGhee picture'. I've seen it.

The article finishes with a line something like 'There is also a man who has never seen the Steve Davis video'. I haven't seen that. I don't even know if it exists or its a joke. But what I do know is that nothing, nothing, in that video could possibly be worse than the various permutations my mind has come up with.

*shudder*
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 21:53, 15 replies)

Don't fuck with the Ancestors
A friend's grandmother had moved to Manitoba years ago - he didn't see her often, so when he did, usually stayed there for quite some time. In the long period of inactivity following the sixth form, I was invited to go with him - and gladly accepted.

The first couple of weeks were uneventful- although his Gran was a decent old stick, I was beginning to regret committing my entire summer to keeping her company. But then I met Amitola, and she changed everything. Her name meant 'Rainbow' in her Native American language and she was, to me, far more beautiful than her namesake could ever hope to be.

Amitola lived on a reservation - modestly sized, around two thousand people, on the banks of Lake Superior. She loved her family and her people fiercely, but hated their heritage and customs; barely a day passed without a rant on the subject of modernisation, and the stupidity of allowing superstition to impede the development of the tribe and its land.

A particular bugbear of hers was the holy ground within the reserve; set a little way from the inhabited areas, it was little more than a circle of rocks, littered with assorted bones, feathers, and other religious/traditional paraphernalia. It was apparently sacred to the Ancestors - a claim which met with Amitola's derision, on the grounds that the tribe had only been relocated to that area during the mid nineteenth century.

As our relationship developed, things got... More physical. And slightly weird. Not only did Amitola have no respect for her people's traditions, at times she seemed to delight in defiling them. This came to a head on dark night in August, a couple of weeks before I was due to return home; she suggested - insisted - that we visit the holy ground together, for purposes that had little to do with worship.

The night had started warm, but by the time we reached the holy ground, it had cooled significantly. Amitola switched off our torches, and lit some candles - and then, she disrobed. One thing led to another, and before long, we were going at it hammer-and-tongs, all caution - all respect for the site - completely forgotten.

I didn't notice when the wind started to rise, but one by one, the candles were snuffed from existence. As the darkness grew, Amitola seemed to grow ever more confident, more demanding; the act of desecration was clearly doing something for her, and she wanted to see how far it could be pushed. Simple sex was abandoned as she began to explore her perversions; a gentleman never tells all, but watersports were mentioned. I took my turn as the wind rose still higher - and I was suddenly aware of how dark, cold, and foreboding the night had become. I couldn't see for more than a few feet, and all I could see was religious in nature - items left for the same Ancestors who now seemed to be screaming their hatred of my acts upon the wind itself.

Then it was her turn. The fierce wind grew to a howl as she straddled me, whipping discarded feathers into a twisting dance of fury, and a dark cloud scudded across the thin crescent of the moon. As we were plunged into near-complete darkness, I heard/felt a low, discordant moan - and it happened; crying out her scorn for the ancestors, she unleashed a jet of hot piss straight towards me. It was Cree pee.

Good shag though.
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 21:49, 3 replies)

Jimmy cunting Saville?
Now then now then, mother fixtaion, mother fixation.

And worse..
(wimbley is feeling hungover, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 21:45, 5 replies)

b3ta.com/questions/breasts/post719271
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 21:44, 3 replies)

This is really a grim horrible thing I've found on YouTube that I think I found from /links.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLRE6c6ntrg

It's basicly a Hill Billy talking about getting 'squirt' on her pillow, it's deffo not pea, because pea is yellow.
( G/PP 💩💩💩💩💩&#128, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 21:29, 12 replies)

I was the Creepy
for roughly a year I was homeless in a semi rural area up north. Home was a £4 two man tent from asda plus sleeping bag and a shed full of cardboard for insulation . Which was ok in the summer months with the clear starry nights and the sitting out until 9pm on a fishing chair with a good book, wind up radio and watching the bats at sunset.

however come October the area I'd picked, through some woods on the steep bank of a disused railway line, would be pitch black even in moonlight. The only way to navigate a route was by torch, most of which was uphill through dense bush and trees. Without doubt the hardest part psychologically was heading into the woods around 6pm after dinner. Inside the tent was no problem and sticking the radio on always lifted the spirits (fond memories of Radcliffe and Maconie). Even the little scratching at 2am on the plasic sheeting by the furry locals became comforting after a while.

the biggest problem was avoiding detection as the area was passed on the outskirts by dog walkers and people taking short cuts from a pub further down. And for the 11 months I was there I was never discovered as I would leave the tent at around 6am, deflate it, cover and camouflage it and make the gym for 7. Even in the snow I would cover up my fresh footprints with a branch to avoid detection by early morning dog walkers. Apart from being buzzed by a police helicopter one time(odd heat signature in middle of woods I'm assuming) I was convinced I'd got away with it. I can remember a few times dreaming of being trapped in a box and waking to find myself in full scream fighting to get out the tent. Christ knows what a local passer by must have thought.

The creepy was when I was zipped and wrapped one night and I heard a bunch of kids coming from the direction of the pub around midnight taking the shortcut. I cut the radio and waited for them to pass. When they got near among all the banter I heard the phrase "... watch out for the man..."

And it made me think back to my childhood with all the stories of strange lone men hanging around the woods. Turns out I'd become the local bogey man to these kids. I'd become that creepy guy from my childhood.

sometimes the creepy just depends on the viewpoint.

I should also point out that the entire episode was voluntary and I still had a full time well paid job for the entire duration. However I could think of no better way to save a substantial amount of money in a very short space of time for a project I was doing abroad. But it did change me profoundly and is a big influence on the volunteer work I now do.

(drop to railway line on left, woods to the right)


HIghlights: sleeping with the roof off in summer under the stars, playing with the bats at sunset, hot showers at gym, podcasts, books and radio shows snuggled up in tent and early morning foxes.
Low lights: early morning putting the tent away, thorn bushes, slugs in tent, freezing balls off in -12 during one week in Feb, trying to keep the beddings dry, and pissing in protein shaker bottle in sleeping bag at 4am.
( Clay hopes this bit is long enough to promote my websi, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 21:29, 13 replies)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_1QyOQDx6w
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 21:12, 4 replies)

I'm not good with unexpected insects.
If I can creep up on a bee, that's fine. If it creeps up on me, I panic.

Which was unehlpful, just today, when I was walking through Hyde Park at about 3.30pm. I had my iPod on, my camera in hand (yeah, as I typed that I have just realised how pervy it sounds, I am not the creepy one in this story, I promise) and was heading in the vague direction of the big wheel they appear to be building for some reason, when somthing landed on my arm. I jumped, swatted at it and it moved further down my arm. I started flapping at it and dropped my iPod on the floor while the creept thing landed on the back of my hand and I freaked out some more, jumping backwards trying to shake it off so vigourously that my glasses fell off too. All I could see was the green and white blur on my hand until my flapping and slapping finally knocked it to the floor where I repeatedly stamped on whatever godforsaken creature it was.

I scrambled around to get my glasses and the vague pink blobs I could see around me came into sharp focus as the faces of people looking in my direction and laughing. So with as much remaining dignity as I could muster, I, sweating, shaking and a little bit ashamed, picked up my iPod and went back to look at the remains of my foe. To see whatever this weird green and white flappy, sticky, determined creature had been.

And, trodden and scuffed into the ground, I saw...

...the sticker they had made me wear to show I was part of the tour of Lord's that I'd been on earlier.

I am pathetic.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 21:03, Reply)

Earthquake!
Creepy? This shit still makes me shiver to this day!
Back in 1994 whilst still living at home, and sleeping like the young T.Q. should be sleeping, I has a dream....
Where I used to live those years ago, is kind of girdled by the M5 and M42 motorways, and in my rather disturbed dream, there is a disaster of scary monster style.
There is a bridge that carries the M42 over the road from T.Q's home village to the local township, but this, of course, in the dream is bigger than it really is, but, has collapsed, leading to cars being squashed, and other associated badness.
So, there's me, in my dream, being on my pushbike, looking down on this monsterous horror of a disaster!
Anyhoo, the calling of the morning comes and although the duvet is quite inviting, I best get up for school.

Downstairs, the telly is on, with my dad watching the BBC news.

And there is no more than live coverage of the earthquake that hit Los Angeles, and a helicopter view of a big fuck off freeway bridge there that has not quite met the structural requirements of a tasty sized quake to hit that unfortunate part of the happy U.S of A.

That, must be, the most creepiest badness that I've experienced. Dreaming about a fucking earthquake squashing flat things then watching it live on telly later? Bleugh.
( Tesco Quality 60.825659, -0.788337, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 21:00, 4 replies)

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 20:59, 22 replies)

There was that time
one of the b3ta mod types came over to my place, plied me with drink and showered me with compliments before whipping out his penis and showering me with hot urine. That was proper cr3 pee.
( broadsword now that's fresh, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 20:58, 2 replies)

Without Doubt...
The murals at denver airport. Many attribute this as evidence of some sort of conspiracy, but whatever they are about... me no likey.

www.google.co.uk/search?q=denver+airport+murals&hl=en&safe=off&prmd=ivns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=UhGeTduXMo6whQePwLCjBA&sqi=2&ved=0CCIQsAQ&biw=1280&bih=590
(Titan Po Splaigen - BELIEVE!!!, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 20:35, 3 replies)

.
I really like the decor in your bedroom.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 20:12, 5 replies)

In the early nineties......
I worked at a local factory. one morning the other workers are pointing at me and speaking in hushed tones whilst looking at a newspaper. After about 10 minutes I wandered over to find out what was going on.
In the paper was a photo of a man convicted a few days earlier of rape.
It was like looking into a mirror. Same hair, face, build. If it wasn't for the fact that they had locked him up for 8 years my mates might have considered calling the plod to have a word with me, it was very fucking distressing.

Made worse when someone pointed out he had the same name as me......
( NooShmoo It's a fantazmagorical pile of ultra bollocks, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 20:10, Reply)

This feller is famous round these parts.
Proper fucking weirdo...
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akinwale_Arobieke
(hiraeth SPACE £19.99. I say yer buy one yer get one free, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 19:32, 11 replies)

Shivers?
Google "Unit 731".
( PMGT -Bacon., Thu 7 Apr 2011, 19:20, 17 replies)

--- Shudders ---
John Major & Edwina Currie.
I rest my case.......
(b3ta_demeter, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 19:16, 1 reply)

The most terrifying thing ever?
Getting married. Never again.
(porkylips looks better as the sun goes down., Thu 7 Apr 2011, 19:03, 1 reply)

Getting an answerphone message
from a text-to-voice service. It was the freakiest thing I ever heard, particularly because I couldn't make head or tail of what they were saying.
( flatfrog Staring vacantly into space, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 18:56, 3 replies)

when I was a lad
dicking about by the stream on the way to school as me and my mates were wont to do, and finding a discarded polaroid of a naked man, from belly down to knees. And he was ginger.
(Freak Paw, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 18:43, 1 reply)

Meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow...
UK b3tans especially should be familiar with the drug Mephedrone which the tabloid press decided was the latest terrifying thing that would destroy the country. There hadn't been a new GTA game out for a while, so they needed something to frighten the older generation.

I did it a few times and it was alright but the day after was rather unpleasant and it was incredibly addictive. I'm glad that I'm disinclined towards non-ganja drugs unlike certain people in my group of friends who wound up doing it 24/7 for a month or two. Anyway, our story begins the morning after a Mephedrone binge.

My friend Bill and I had been doing it with another friend until about 8am (yeah you don't sleep when you're on it) and after forcing down a chocolate bar (yeah you don't eat when you're on it) for nutrition we didn't want but knew we needed, we got some weed and decided to smoke the day away with a view to a 14 hour kip that night.

Grass secured, we proceeded to the local park and had a few spliffs of high grade skunk. This is something we do pretty regularly so I wasn't prepared for coughing my lungs up after one toke and tasting mephedrone in the back of my throat. Odd, but OK.

We were waiting for our mate Martin and as the sun set the darkness descended on the park and I squinted into the distance trying to see if that movement in the trees was Martin. Could swear those are legs moving WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!

You know how you get black spots on your eyes when they go out of focus or you get lightheaded? I had that but in my drugged-up state they took on the form of big humanoid figures made of black circles running towards me rapidly with the accompanying sound of Pac-Man eating pills for some reason. I shat a bit and continued as normal, mentioning it to Bill and getting a weird look. Whatever, I'm high.

Over the next twenty minutes I saw an army of men in hi-vis vests in the trees with warplanes and helicopters flying overhead and parachuting down reinforcements. A few gigantic spiders squatted on the fence next to me and things moved in the trees constantly. Unbeknownst to me, the whole while Bill was experiencing the same thing and thinking "fuck me I hope Matt is seeing all this" while I was thinking "fuck me I hope Bill is seeing all this".

We walked to the shops down a path in the park which DID NOT END. I swear to God, this 300m walk lasted an eternity. Even though I could see the gate and the main road at the end of the walk it just wasn't getting closer. All the while these half-seen things were moving in the trees as more figures flitted around us on the ground. I began to ask hysterical questions about where were we going, why were we going there, what the fuck is going on. This annoyed Bill though he later confessed he was only annoyed at the questions because in his head he was screaming "I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!"

Bill, more versed in drugs than I, was probably handling it a bit better even though I was still in my right mind enough to know I was just hallucinating for some reason due to a cocktail of THC and Mephedrone. Still, it was fucking creepy.

I finally established that Bill was as weirded out as I was when I asked "so, when you did acid, how was that in comparison to whatever the fuck is going on now?" He turned to me and thought before answering hestitantly an octave higher than normal: "Neeeeever.... never had anything quite like this."

We reached the shops and got stuff in the end. I'll save what happened at the shops for a future "Drugged-up twats try and fail to act normal in public" QOTW.

EDIT: forgot this - MASSIVE DRUGS
(MJPerry was crude but clickable at, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 18:39, Reply)

The teeth! The eyes! The horrifying, unearthly shreeking!
When a youngster of about 5 years old, my mother would take my younger brother and me to watch "The Children's Matinee" at an old, worn down cinema -- the type which was made to look a little like a theatre in its decoration and layout.
Anyhow, on one particular day, after the lights went down something happened which still traumatises me to this day and when my mother and I mention it we do so on hushed tones with grimaces on our faces.
That afternoon they showed an entire Elton John concert before the film, which I think was a re-run of the one about the kids with the aeroplane stopping smugglers. A whole 2 hours of that creepy, microphone-fellating queen!
Any time I hear Elton singing, or sometimes just hear his name, I get a mental image of a closeup of his prominent gnashers circling a microphone as though deciding whether to eat it or make love to it and I shudder.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Thu 7 Apr 2011, 18:25, 5 replies)