[Jake]

creepypasta.

...THEN WHO WAS PHONE?!

[Darkness]

If you ever find dargaia's nectar, you'll probably be one of the ones who have been looking for it all their lives, and thus won't need any instructions on what to do with it.

Just the same, it's pretty simple, at least to start with. Make sure your affairs are in order (incase you have a bad reaction), and then? Bottoms up.

The coming months are the least pleasant part. You'll find yourself unable to keep food down weeks before you stop needing it. Same with sleep. The color of your blood will be off, making your viens stand out. Expect a few ingrown body parts; little things, just fingers and ears and teeth, usually pressing up against the skin. Make sure you're caught up on your booster shots because you're never going in for a checkup again. Or wearing anything more revealing than a trenchcoat in public, most likely.

Eventually, a little cut on your belly will start 'unhealing', becoming a puss-filled wound in a few days. Over the coming week, three things will emerge from this.

The first object resembles a greasy black beachnut with maybe a tooth or two growing from it. When you're dead someone will eventually find it and use it to make a new batch of dargaia's nectar. Hide it well, make things fun for future generations.

The second object basically looks like a softball-sized cluster of veins, many of them broken and leaking oily black stuff, all wrapped around something. Then it'll squirm and you'll notice the twisted little skinless fetus in the middle. It will only survive for about twenty seconds. Burn the remains.

The third object will... Well, let's just call it "object 3". It's easier that way.

You can plant it anywhere you want. I advise someplace where you don't mind spending all your time and no one else will go. Your back yard or under your cellar works if you don't have any roomates; as long as there's fertile soil. Dig at least five feet down. It won't want to be buried, but just keep piling dirt onto it (if you can still hear it when you're finished you didn't go deep enough).

Its veins (or roots, I guess) will eventually spread in all direction about a foot and a half for every year of your life. Grass and weeds will grow stiff and bony, or black and oily, or take on the color and texture of a spider bite, or rice paper. Wood will be infected too; you'll hear the arteries in your walls pulsing on quiet nights. The ground will rot with dead insect and animal life. Don't mow your lawn; it bleeds like hell.

This is your sanctuary.

No matter what threats or injuries beset you outside, here you will be safe and healthy. Well, what passes for 'healthy' for you now. And if you really hate someone, bring them here. Trick them into coming. They'll get infected, one way or another; a lungfull of spore, a thornprick, a bit of residue on their hand. They will blood-vomit and the blood will have tiny centipedes in it. They'll s­hit out their own spinal fluids. Their eyes will milk over and hatch; little spines and brambles will grow from the sockets. They'll survive for months or years, doctors will be baffled, it will be completely fuc­­king great.

That's all for starters. You'll learn more as you go. Much more. But if I told you everything now you might not do it.

Whatever you do, just guard it with your life, with your very soul. If you think you're in danger of loosing it, dig it up, kill it with a silver needle, let someone else make a new one some day. You'll feel as if you've pierced your own heart, but it's better than letting it fall into the wrong hands.

That wasn't creepy... Just weird xD


... Oh. And. None of them have actually been creepy since Jake's about the babysitter, and the angel xD

[delta_3mo]

uhhhhhhh, am i gonna die now?

[Res]

uhhhhhhh, am i gonna die now?

Only if you look at that image roughly 10 more times.

[Darkness]

uhhhhhhh, am i gonna die now?

Only if you look at that image roughly 10 more times.

... I've already looked at it that many times... xD!

[Atilla]

You are making out with your girlfriend when suddenly the phone rings. You pick up and ask, "Hello?" The voice on the other end says "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH MY DAUGHTER??" Just then, your girlfriend says her father's been dead for three years.

[Jake]

Bryce, I've included a link in this picture. I'd like you to go there, and stay there for a week.

------------------------------------

Holder of the End

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the End". Should a look of child-like fear come over the workers face, you will then be taken to a cell in the building. It will be in a deep hidden section of the building. All you will hear is the sound of someone talking to themselves echo the halls. It is in a language that you will not understand, but your very soul will feel unspeakable fear.

Should the talking stop at any time, STOP and QUICKLY say aloud "I'm just passing through, I wish to talk." If you still hear silence, flee. Leave, do not stop for anything, do not go home, don't stay at an inn, just keep moving, and sleep where your body drops. You will know in the morning if you've escaped.

If the voice in the hall comes back after you utter those words continue on. Upon reaching the cell all you will see is a windowless room with a person in the corner, speaking an unknown language, and cradling something. The person will only respond to one question. "What happens when they all come together?"

The person will then stare into your eyes and answer your question in horrifying detail. Many go mad in that very cell, some disappear soon after the meeting, and a few end their lives. But most do the worst thing, and look upon the object in the person's hands. You will want to as well. Be warned that if you do, your death will be one of cruelty and unrelenting horror.

Your death will be in that room, by that person's hands.

That object is 1 of 538. They must never come together. Never.

[Atilla]

Butbut I like it here.

[Zziggywolf5]

I am Michaels' reflection. Every morning, he rises from sleep and walks into the bathroom....and he makes faces. I am so tired of the faces. He makes them for at least half an hour. Mocking, ridiculous faces. I have no choice but to mimic his every action, although inside I am seething with anger. He does this every day...well, used to. One morning he awoke as usual, and entered the bathroom. On this particular morning, against his will, he picked up a pair of scissors. On this particular morning, against his will, he gripped those scissors tightly in his fist... and he plunged them directly into his right eye. Michael screamed, and screamed. I screamed and screamed too - with one difference. I can't mimic his pain. Just his face.

That's terrible! My reflection would never do that to me. We're friends, and he gives me good advice, like when I didn't know what to do about that door to door salesman who came to my house. My reflection even told me how to clean everything up!

Anyway, *bump*

[Res]

Bump.
Don't look behind you. It doesn't like it when you see it.

[delta_3mo]

your all so demented. if i were only just a little less crazy...

[Jake]

In winter of 1944, with overtaxed supply lines in the Ardennes, a German medic had completely run out of plasma, bandages and antiseptic. During one particularly bad round of mortar fire, his encampment suddenly became a bloodbath. The survivors claimed to hear, above the screams and barked commands of their Lieutenant, someone cackling with almost girlish glee.

The medic made his rounds during the fire, in almost complete darkness as he had so many times before, but never this short on supplies.

The bombardment moved to other ends of the line, most men dropped off to sleep in the still dark hours of the morning - New Year’s Day, 1945.

The men awoke at first light with screams. They discovered that their bandages were not typical bandages at all, but hunks and strips of human flesh. Several men had been given fresh blood transfusions, with no blood supplies available. Each treated man was almost completely covered, head-to-toe, with the maroon stain of blood.

The medic was found, sitting on an ammunition tin, staring off into space. When one man approached him, tapped him on the shoulder, his tunic fell off to reveal all skin, muscle, and sinew had been stripped from his torso and his body almost completely dried of blood. In one hand was a scalpel, and in the other, a blood transfusion vial.

None of the men treated for wounds that night, in that camp, saw the end of January, 1945.

[Jake]

It’s early morning. The sun won’t be up for another couple of hours. You’re fast asleep in bed, lost in a dream, when the phone rings. Rather than waking up, you roll over and cover your head with a pillow. Hours pass. The sun rises.

The phone is ringing.

When you wake up, your alarm clock is blaring and the phone is ringing. By the time you will yourself to turn the alarm off, the phone has stopped ringing. You realize that it’s been ringing all morning. You slide out of bed and press the blinking red button on your phone as you stumble into the bathroom. The phone beeps, followed by the friendly, electronic voice.

Hello. You have six hundred and sixty-six new messages. Message one.

The phone beeps again, and you’re not prepared for what comes next. Screaming.

You spin around, thinking that she’s standing right behind you. There’s pure terror in her screams, accompanied by other disturbing noises. You stand there, horrified, for about ten seconds. Screaming gives way to hysterical, garbled crying before dying out with the sounds of spilling meat and tearing flesh.

The phone beeps again. You’re shaking.

Message two…

[Nate]

[Rylkan]

The entire Holder series can be found here: http://theholders.org/?Special:Main