The face of chaos!

The Trap

In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed.

She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She was, naturally, suspicious, so she went to the police.

When the police paid a visit to the address on the envelope, they made a gruesome discovery, three butchers had been harvesting human flesh and selling it to the starving people.

And what was in the envelope the man gave to the woman? A note, saying simply “This is the last one I am sending you today.”

Original Author: Unknown

The Message

Don’t dismiss this outright as the work of some raving lunatic. There’s some sense to this story, if you’ll just hear me out…

Look, we all wonder if time travel is possible, right? Well let me tell you something… it is. I’m from the future, actually. I know you probably don’t believe that, but seriously, I’m from the future. It’s a really great thing; getting to see the past, watching events unfold.. stuff like that. We know more now than we ever would.

Behind all the fun, though, there is a more serious aspect. We aren’t supposed to go into our own lifetime, and we are NEVER allowed to contact our past selves. Let me tell you, I’m breaking that rule right now. Yes, kid, you’re talking to yourself. Your future self. I’m going to be executed for this, but you know what? I accept that. I’m preventing something by talking to you that is WORSE than death. I can’t tell you outright what to do, because the filters would catch it. This is the closest I can get, trust me. I can, however, send a little message.

You should probably read the first word of every paragraph, now.

Original Author: You

The Portraits

There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning.

As he looked around the inside of the cabin, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by several portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred and malice. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.

The next morning, the hunter awoke — he turned, blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.

Original Author: Unknown

I Told You To Smile

It was the 2nd of January, 2:04 AM. I woke up to a knocking on the door. One knock every 3 seconds. I slipped on my slippers and walked down the stairs. As I walked down, the knocking on the door got faster, almost like a heartbeat. When I got to the door, the knocking stopped, I looked outside and nobody was there.

I went back up to my room and went back to bed, thinking it was just some kids playing a prank. At 4:21 AM I woke up to the front door slamming shut. I jumped, terrified. I looked over at my frosted window to find “smile” written all over it in the frost. I grabbed my phone next to me, ready to call 911, only to find a message written on it saying “I told you to smile”. I cried and ran for my life running outside.

As soon as I got outside I knocked on my neighbors house across the road. They answered and held me while I sobbed. They phoned the police. At exactly 5:42, the police came to my neighbors house after an extensive search of my house. They told me there had been no evidence at all of anyone in my house other than me. The messages on the window were gone, same with my phone. They told me to get some sleep and advised me to see the doctor about stress and anxiety problems. Fuck that. I knew what happened to me was real.

The following evening, after spending the day at my neighbors, I went home. I went up to my bedroom and set up a camera. It was aimed at my bedroom door and my bed. I set it to record and went to sleep. Thankfully, I slept through the night. However, as I watched the footage, I couldn’t believe what I saw.

At 3 in the morning, something crawled out from under my bed. It was a completely naked, anorexic man. He stood up and looked at me on the bed. He did so for another hour, not moving at all. Then he moved. He walked over to the camera until his face took up the whole shot. He was extremely pale and had bulging veins all over his head. His eyes were completely black, with a huge smile on his face. He stared at the camera for another two hours, not blinking, just slightly twisting his head every now and again.

After two hours of him staring went past, he walked back over to my bed and crawled back under. I skipped the video forward until it showed me getting up and walking over to the camera. The video finished. I was frozen with fear. The video showed him going back under, but not leaving. Whatever it was, it was still there.

Original Author: unknown

Where Bad Kids Go

I must have been six or seven when I lived in Lebanon. The country was ravaged by war at the time, and murders were common and frequent. I remember during a particularly vicious era, when the bombings rarely stopped, I would stay at home sitting in front of my television watching a very, very strange show.

It was a kids’ show that lasted about 30 minutes and contained strange and sinister images. To this day I believe it was a thinly veiled attempt on the part of the media to use scare tactics to keep kids in place, because the moral of every episode revolved around very uptight ideologies: stuff like, “bad kids stay up late,” “bad kids have their hands under the covers when they sleep,” and “bad kids steal food from the fridge at night.”

It was very weird, and in Arabic to top it off. I didn’t understand much of it, but for the most part the images were very graphic and comprehensive. The thing that stuck with me the most, however, was the closing scene. It remained much the same in every episode. The camera would zoom in on an old, rusted, closed door. As it got closer to the door, strange and sometimes even agonizing screams would become more audible. It was extremely frightening, especially for children’s programming. Then a text would appear on the screen in Arabic reading: “That’s where bad kids go.” Eventually both the image and the sound would fade out, and that would be the end of the episode.

About 15 or 16 years later I became a journalistic photographer. That show had been in my mind all my life, popping up in my thoughts sporadically. Eventually I’d had enough, and decided to do some research. I finally managed to uncover the location of the studio where much of that channel’s programming had been recorded. Upon further research and eventually traveling on site, I found out it was now desolate and had been abandoned after the big war ended.

I entered the building with my camera. It was burnt out from the inside. Either a fire had broken out or someone had wanted to incinerate all of the wooden furniture. After few hours of cautiously making my way into the studio and snapping pictures, I found an isolated out-of-the-way room. After having to break through a few old locks and managing to break the heavy door open, I remained frozen in the doorway for several long minutes. Traces of blood, feces, and tiny bone fragments lay scattered across the floor. It was a small room, and an extremely morbid scene.

What truly frightened me, though, what made me turn away and never want to come back, was the bolted, caged microphone hanging from the roof in the middle of the room…

Original Author: Unknown