The bit in the film Se7en...
...when that emaciated guy on the bed suddenly springs to life.

I have never seen an audience collectively jump out of their seats before or since.
(SonoraAeroClub "OH SWEET HELEN OF BALLS!", Fri 8 Apr 2011, 14:14, 11 replies)

You may have to be over 30 to get this one -
But the Spastic Society plastic collection kids -

www.salvoweb.com/images/userimgs/27759/31432_1.jpg

They were usually creepier than this, especially the male one and they always had a chain tied round there leg that gave the impression they were there against their will. The only humour here is the sign she's holding saying, 'Help the spastics', we were so PC in those days.

I used to have nightmares about these fuckers. Firstly the paint would start to crumble from them, reavealing a real disabled zombie kid, they would then come after me making a similar noise to the zombies from resident evil, the worst bit was the noise of the chained collection box being dragged behind them, similar to the sound of nails on a chalk board. I'd gladly buy one, just so I could smash it up with a sledgehammer.
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 14:14, 8 replies)

The Ring
I'm sure people have mentioned this already.

Added to the normal warning that you shouldn't watch it if you're easily creeped out, I'd add (from experience) a more specific warning:

Do not watch it if your job involves spending most of the day working alone in the warehouse of a high street store, surrounded by television sets.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 14:08, 2 replies)

A recent experience for me
On another site I visit a lot a guy posted the following link: timmsuess.com/chernobyl-journal/chernobyl-journal-the-videos/

It's a video tour of Chernobyl, 20 years later. They go through the old buildings and film the stuff left behind, all set to moody soundtracks. Very nicely done, and a bit eerie.

Then I get to the one labeled "Lenin Square and Amusement Park". The second half of that clip uses "i Ghosts 1" in the soundtrack, a strange piece with piano and a synthesizer in the background. I watched that and was chilled straight to the bones, because the synthesizer sounded exactly like the old Civil Defense sirens they had when I was a kid in the 1960s.

I will never forget how those Civil Defense drills scared the fuck out of me. I was about six or seven when they stopped doing them, but I remember hearing that siren and having to go crouch against the wall, arms covering head, and I remember imagining the building being blown apart over us- they had shown us the film from the nuclear testing that showed the buildings being shredded, so I knew what would happen if a bomb hit.

The footage of the old abandoned buildings coupled with that piece of music was enough to give me vivid flashbacks to that childhood terror and put me in a bad way for two days.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:59, 1 reply)

Grandma's House
My late Gran was a lovely lady, and I had many good times staying with her at her big old house in South Wales, but she was a tough old lady too, and didn't really appreciate the sensitive nature of kids.

First of all, the family house she lived in alone for the last 20 years of her life was very big and old and was the gloomiest, eeriest place I'd ever been when I was a kid. It was all dark corners, creaking floorboards, and sepia photographs. I always just wanted to sit in the lounge with her, with the lights all on, and watch TV, but she would insist on sending me out to the fridge (which was in the garage for some obscure reason) for drinks. The longest walk... it still sends a shiver down my spine.

However, the bit that has always really stuck with me was the night she told me, just as I was heading to bed, that the room I was sleeping in was where her Grandmother, my Great Grandfather, my Great Grandmother, one of her infant Brothers, and her Husband had died.

Thanks Gran.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:56, Reply)

This
en.akihabaranews.com/90533/robot/creepynoids-meet-up-when-geminoids-of-the-world-finally-meet
(waxdart hello., Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:55, Reply)

As a kid...
...this photo used to freak me out.

Still gives me the creeps to this day...
(SonoraAeroClub "OH SWEET HELEN OF BALLS!", Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:52, 11 replies)

not me, my dad
back when i was a babe in arms my folks moved in to their first home. a decorating frenzy ensues and late one night my dad(19 at the time) and my dads brother(about 15/16) were scraping wallpaper only to find a door with no handle, just a keyhole. obviously my old man thought i've got another room/cupboard, lets get it open. grabbing a coathanger he sets about undoing the lock, with a loud snick he and my uncle proceed to pry it open. it came ajar with a massive ripping noise followed by a blood curdling scream. needless to say my dad and uncle shit themselves and nearly killed each other getting out of room.

turns out the entire row of terraced houses used to be dormitory for trainee priests and all the now seperate houses are now connected by doors and the pair of silly twats had ripped a door shaped hole in the neighbours wallpaper
(studdley ruffrod no crack too slack, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:48, 12 replies)

Moon monkey reminded me
I used to write copy for a toy company. We had to give the copy the feel of having played with the toys, and as such had quite a selection of samples.

It was a bloody ace time, everyone was in their early to mid 20s, and surrounded by toys, which meant that at any given time of the day, there was a Nerf Gun fight going on, and we all drank heavily as we hadn't quite got over being students yet.

Imagine how I felt, however, when entering the office early one morning with a stinking hangover, I discovered that a four-year-old child at my colleague's desk, just starting silently at his screen, not moving a muscle. The eyes! The dead, glassy eyes! Dear CHRIST why oh WHY is there a market for these bloody dolls?
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:46, 1 reply)

A creepy tale from the 1930s
112 years ago there was a triple murder and double rape at Gatton, Australia. The police made a mess of the case and the rapist was never found. There have been at least three books published on the case. Perhaps the latest one is "Gatton Man" by Merv Lilley, once a well known trade unionist.

He accused his father of being the culprit. There were some grounds to back it up and Lilley said his mother was convinced her husband was guilty. The father was a bigamist, violent, and when his mind began to go in advanced age could not be left with children about.

This father had been a farmer and commercial traveler. I mentioned his name to my parents just after reading the book as his farm had not been terribly far from their old stamping grounds.

My late mother said "I knew him. He used to call in at Plainfield (her parent's farm) when I was a little girl. I used to make myself scarce when I saw him coming and so did my sisters."

(A repost of a reply to the Kids QOTW three years ago.)
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:44, Reply)

Guys
Or maybe just one guy I knew that does it. At a backpacker hostel he used to pretend to get drunk. Not like a 13 year old would after a few sips of shandy. He would drink 1-2 drinks behind everyone, sipping slowly and eyeing up the girls in the group. I say eye up but it was more leer from left to right. You could see him watch every little detail and mentally tally which girl was getting drunk the fastest.

I think he only got rapey once but thankfully his rapey senses were well off that day. Most people got the hint and he moved on.
(muzzvsworld, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:38, Reply)

Dead Babies
No, not real ones, I mean the ultra-realistic fake babies that strange, childless women spend thousands of pounds/dollars on, and treat as if they were real.

That's about the only thing I can think of that really chills me to the bone. It's like they've cooing over a dead baby's corpse in a pram. *shudder*

Oh, and it's not the babies that freak me out. It's the women.

Google "Realistic baby dolls" if you have no idea what I'm dribbling on about. But have a bucket handy.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:37, 1 reply)

Syphilis: apparently it kills you.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuskegee_syphilis_experiment
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:33, 1 reply)

Creepy repost
I was walking to work this morning and I saw a little dead baby ghost at the edge of the pavement. I thought he had been hit by a car, it was creepy and sad :-(

But on closer inspection it was a carrier bag.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:28, Reply)

The Kinder Kid
I'm talking about the original monstrosity, not the slightly less offensive version they replaced him with.



The face of this fake-tanned, piercingly-eyed little fuck haunted our group of friend's very existence at school, because one of my mates made it so. He printed off, (in colour, mind) about 300 of this little cunt's face, cut them into individual kinder kid squares, and hid them. EVERYWHERE.

For months, nowhere was safe. You'd be in Maths, and look across at your mate taking out his exercise book to see his face freeze in an expression of abject horror. 'Fuck, Kinder Kid' - staring out from the simultaneous equations.

Remove your wallet at the tuck shop to pay for a chomp, and drop your 10p in shock. 'Fucking Kinder!' - weird side parting peeking over your Halifax saver card.

Almost a decade later, my friend was dismantling his bed, moving out of home and buying a house for the first time. He had to slide under the bed to retrieve a screwdriver, and as he did, he noticed a Kinder face, blue tacked to the underside of the bedframe - Well played.
( SigmaX0 Dear Die Hard. You rock!, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:25, 5 replies)

Kids
My sister was 4 and playing outside when she came into the kitchen and asked mum who the lady was that had come into the kitchen. There had been no lady.

In asking her about it last Christmas, she remembers it clearly, and saw a woman, in black, walk into our kitchen, slightly missing the door. She wasn't see-through, she was just a lady, in black, walking (partially) through the door.

On a similar note, Mike from my previous story at the age of three was being bathed by his mother in the basement of their house. He asked his mother who the man at the window was, despite there not being a window there any more.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:23, 1 reply)

Creepy Experiements...
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanford_prison_study

...found about this whilst doing a Psychology A-Level. Completely batshit insane.
(paddysawyers music whore, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:04, 5 replies)

English oral, (Easy Madam)
No, that thing in English class where you stand at the front and give a talk about a topic of your choosing. One kid did about his football team, someone did about his model plane that he flew and so on. I was at a loss as I didn't have any activities at all. No sports or hobbies or anything. I used to read a lot, but that was no good. Apart from that, the only thing I really did was 'larked out', usually on my bike, so that was a non-starter too.

I went to the local library and looked for inspiration. I then noticed a bright yellow yet innocuous looking book "The Nuclear Survival Handbook" by Barry Popkess.
"Ooh, that looks interesting" I thought. I took the book out and read through it cover to cover. It was fascinating. I began making notes in anticipation for the English lesson in a couple of days time.

I sat down in my English lesson and the teacher checked her list of people who hadn't done their talk and was about to pick someone when I put my hand up.

"I'll do it Miss", and everybody looked at me. Nobody, and I mean nobody had volunteered and nobody had relished the idea of standing at the front talking about something. I snatched up my notes, and wandered to the front whilst the teacher went and sat at the back of the class.

"Right" I said. Nobody really heard, "RIGHT" I said in a stentorian voice, people looked up. "My speech is on the effects and aftermath of a nuclear attack". People fell silent, the teacher perked up. This was late 1986, not long after the Reykjavik Summit where Reagan refused to scale back his strategic missile defence. A program that would cause a significant imbalance in the arms race. The cold war was reaching quite a tension, the thought of a nuclear war sitting at the back of everybody's mind like the elephant in the room, a thought that nobody wanted to talk about.

Except me.

I started. I talked about the preemptive attack by the Soviets in response to the imbalance in the arms race, getting a shot in before the US could build a system to block the attack. I described in detail weapon yields, the myriad targets in the UK including Greenham Common which had been on the news a lot, how the missiles would come from Eastern Europe and from submarines in the North Sea. How the 4-minute warning was meaningless.

I then described in exquisite detail the effects on a 5MT airburst above the centre of Hull. How everything in a certain radius would just vapourise and what vaporisation meant.

I then turned around and drew a rough sketch of Hull and the surrounding area and began drawing concentric circles explaining what the level of devastation would be in that area. Then I turned to the aftermath. The fall of civilisation, the nuclear winter, radiation poisoning, increased cancers, the works.

After about 7 minutes, I finished. Most talks lasted 3 minutes, tops. The class was silent, kids were wide-eyed. I stood there and looked at them for almost a minute. Nobody moved, nobody made a sound. The teacher looked shocked and didn't say anything. A couple of kids then ran out, I could hear sobbing from a couple of girls near the front.

Eventually the teacher came to the front and said "thank you for a graphic talk" and sent me to my seat. The rest of the class was a bit subdued after that and it took a good 15 mins before the atmosphere had picked up again.

She collared me at the end of the class and said that my subject was ill-advised and rather macabre and disturbing. But, she said it'd be wrong to mark me down on it and she actually gave me an A*. Yay me!
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:03, 8 replies)

Re: Unit 731
Also read up on The Milgram Experment. Now THATS creepy. Knowing 2/3s of the people around you would electrocute you to death if someone told them to...
( PMGT -Bacon., Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:01, 2 replies)

One that always creeped me out as a kid
Was the Carlton Screen Ad they show before Films

www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKxxwHv2jAY

I think they've cut it down a bit from its orginal version when I was younger. There was a really ominous Whoosh Whoosh sound then this came stabbing at the screen.

It always got me...every time.
(FondaAccord, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 13:01, 2 replies)

I had a friend...
He was dyslexic. He was forever trying to call up the number of the beast, but he kept getting the emergency services.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 12:55, 3 replies)

Any school at night.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 12:35, 3 replies)

Lurkers
Or more specifically, me.
I have been a member for 2 years, 7 months and 3 days, yet until yesterday have posted precisely fuck all. I had already been lurking for several years before I boldly decided to sign up and join these people whose exploits I had been reading about. I even had a story to post in whatever that week's topic was, but decided on rereading that it was surely destined for the fail archive (coward? or should more people look over their shoulder like this?)

I have watched the rise and fall of several qotw heroes and villains over the years: Legless going from popular funny poster to most unpopular with the haters; Pooflake's brief domination of the best of page with his clearly made up, but occasionally amusing euphemism-filled posts and then his disappearance; CHCB's hatred of boring parents then subsequent motherhood; Spanky's adolescent wank fantasies eventually getting him chased away; Bert shifting from being one of the gang to unpopular, incestuous weirdo; all those others who posted stories for a while then left "because it's not as good as it used to be".

I've laughed with you, laughed at you. I've viewed some of your profiles. I've followed you on off-topic, been amused and entertained by various conversations and arguments. I've even nearly joined you a couple of times...

Don't you think this all sounds a bit creepy?
The longer it goes on, the stranger it seems to join in.
Is there a section in the archive for creepy stalkers? Save a place for me.
( tangledupinblue hairy badge with moving eyes, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 12:29, 7 replies)

Mutilated skull
I'm walking along the street, whistling a happy tune. There's a large lorry parked by the side of the fairly narrow pavement, but there's room to squeeze past between it and the fence. As I pass, suddenly something lolls out of a gap in the wooden slats mere inches from my face.

I look up. It's pink and fleshy, with clumps of hair sprouting from it. It's scarred and caked in filth, but in a flash I recognise it as a deformed, shrivelled human head. Worse, where the eye should be there's just a gaping, empty socket, caked in blood.

I let out a yell that caused cyclists to swerve and a flock of birds to wheel frantically into the air, and lurch back against the fence beside me, cowering as far away from this ghastly apparition as I can.

From where I can see that it is, in fact, a cow's nose. The "eye socket" was its nostril.

Bastard.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 12:25, 3 replies)

Fat men with braces.
It's not my fault that you can't wear a belt or trousers that are longer than they are wide. Keep your elasticated moob thongs the fuck out of my eyeline.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 12:25, 2 replies)

The bit in
Salems lot where the dead kid is scratching on the window.

Must be more than 30 years since I saw that, and SHAT myself.

I never liked horror films after that.
(username failed moderation, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 12:13, 5 replies)

Spooky birthday balloon
A few weeks ago it would have been our daughter's first birthday - she was still born last year. On her birthday we had decorated her grave with various foil helium balloons and birthday cards. Last weekend we removed all this, and a couple of the balloons still had just enough helium in them to float to the ceiling once we took them home. One of these had a large "1" on it, and we went to bed Saturday night leaving it floating against the ceiling in the corner of the living room.

In the morning, we found it on the floor in the doorway to the bathroom, with just enough helium to stand upright. The bathroom is upstairs, and to get to there the balloon would have had to go through several rooms, under two doorways, and make five or six turns and changes of direction, as well as negotiate the stairs. I just can't see how air currents could have caused this, and this all occurred before the heating came on in the morning.

No-one even got up in the night, let alone went downstairs. I know it wasn't me, and if it had been my wife she would have confessed by now.

This has completely changed my hitherto scepticism about all things supernatural, weird and paranormal.
(How soon is now?, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 12:11, 4 replies)

The nursery I went to was next to a viaduct.
Underneath one of the arches was a large black drainage pipe that threatend suck me in, or release foul beasts to eat my 4 year old heart. I couldn't even look at the thing.

10 years later when playing around the area I found it still sent shivers down my spine.

I haven't plucked up the courage to see whether it still has the same effect now I'm nearly 40. But I bet it does.
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 12:06, Reply)

I was always slightly suspicious of Professor Yaffle.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 12:03, 4 replies)

I have visited the website 4chan.

(FondaAccord, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 11:56, 4 replies)