I AM YOUR SISTER

When I was in college, my girlfriend got a call from her mother, and then from her sister five minutes after. Her sister was freaked out and the mother was, too.

Her sister was a new college freshman, and she and her new roommates decided to use a Ouija board one night. Apparently they had contacted some spirit who apparently knew her sister's name. They asked:

What is your name?

I don't have a name.

Who are you? 

I am your sister. I am a year older than you.

The next day, her sister called her mom and told her what the Ouija board spirit had said. Her mother then told her about the miscarriage she'd had a year before her sister was born. Her mother and father had never told anyone.

Story source.

WAKE UP

It is said that when a person undergoes a serious trauma, such as rape, assault, severe physical injury, etc., the brain slips into a fantasy world to protect itself. Oftentimes this fantasy world takes on all the characteristics of the real world they knew. Without being able to 

wake up 

a person could go on indefinitely living this fantasy life. Completely unaware that they can't 

wake up 

some theorize this is what happens in a coma. If a person goes too long and does not 

wake up 

they could become trapped in this world forever. The mind, however, knows this world is a farce and will subtly give out hints of this, trying to get the sufferer to 

please wake up.

RHODA DERRY

Rhoda grew up in Adams County, Illinois. During her teenage years, she fell in love with a farm boy, Charles Phenix, who lived a short distance from her home. His mother, Nancy, did not want her son to marry Rhoda because of the Derry family’s association with witchcraft. Rhoda’s grandmother was rumoured to be a witch and this helped instil a deep fear of witches into Rhoda.

Nancy confronted Rhoda about it and threatened to put a hex on Rhoda if she didn’t leave Charles alone. Some believe this was the event that caused Rhoda’s mental spiral into madness because of her fear of witches. Rhoda began to hear voices and claimed to see “Old Scratch,” which was believed to be a name for the devil. She also had visions of Nancy Phenix haunting her home.

The Derry family sent Rhoda to the Jacksonville Mental Hospital but it is believed that the hospital found her incurable and sent her home again. At that point, the family could no longer take care of Rhoda and she was sent to an Alms House in Adams County.

It was during her stay at the Alms House that Rhoda began to become very violent and had to be restrained on numerous occasions. At one point, she claimed she had seen “Old Scratch” and proceeded to use her long fingernails to scratch at her eyes until she went blind. She then lived in a world of darkness but her violent streaks continued. The staff at the Alms House felt Rhoda was a danger to both herself and the other patients so they decided to restrain her by placing her in a box covered with a canvas tarp. She could not escape this wooden prison and was confined to it for forty years. Her limbs shriveled due to lack of exercise and when she was finally released from the box, she began to walk with her hands because her legs had atrophied.

In 1904 Dr. George Zeller opened the Peoria Hospital for the Incurable Insane. Rhoda’s tormented path finally led her to this hospital, a haven where she and Zeller shared a fascination in one another. She lived her final days under Zeller’s care.

PERFECT CIRCLE

Summer between my junior and senior year in college. I was living in my college house in a small town in southern MN. Three of my housemates were also there that summer. We mostly spent our time working or getting drunk or trying to get laid. Typical awesome college summer.

One particular Thursday evening, we four ambled down to the local bar and drank a few pitchers and ate some hot wings. Our waitress was my friend Sarah. Strawberry blonde, blue eyes, 5'2", nice rack. We had all known her since freshman year so she stood around for awhile, shooting the breeze, whatever. About 11 or so we packed it in and headed back to our house, saying goodnight to Sarah as we headed out the door. My buddies all had to work the next day, so they headed off to bed; I worked night shift at the local hospital that summer, so I was used to being up all night. So I stayed up and watched some TV, figuring I'd fall asleep around dawn, wake up mid-afternoon, and then head to work the following night.

At about 2am, there was a frame-rattling pounding on our front door and I could hear a woman crying for someone to help her. Just as I reached the front hallway the door flew open (we never had it locked) and Sarah - our waitress - came running in. She was in boxers and a t-shirt - no shoes. She ran to me and grabbed on to me and I could feel her shaking. My buddies slowly came wandering out of their rooms, wondering what the hell was going on.

Eventually, the only sort of story we could get out of Sarah was that someone had been in her house that night. Her housemates were all gone for the summer, so she was living by herself. We told her she needed to call the police right away, but she got a really weird look and refused. She wanted us guys to go back to her house and see if anyone was there.

We armed ourselves as best we could. I grabbed my Maglite, and my buddies had baseball bats and golf clubs. We gave Sarah a pair of flip-flops and a sweatshirt and we walked the five blocks to her house. That's right, she'd run five blocks to our house barefoot. To describe her as freaked out is a bit of an understatement.

When we got to her house, her front door was standing wide open. She said she thought she'd left it that way when she'd run out. When we got into the house, at first everything seemed normal. The rooms were all tidy and clean; no dishes in the sink; no messy laundry on the floors; the windows were down and locked; the air-conditioning was running. There was no one in the house.

But then we got to Sarah's bedroom.

My first thought was literally "There was a tornado in here." Her vertical blinds were bent and twisted into each other. Her drawers were open, and clothing strewn about the room. All of her lights were on; her TV was on; her radio was on. Directly in the middle of her floor was a pile of junk, like someone had dumped a drawer on the carpeting: pens, envelopes, key-chains, junk. AND IT WAS ALL ARRANGED IN A GEOMETRICALLY PERFECT CIRCLE, about two feet in diameter.

My buddy Troy said "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Back at our house, Sarah told us what had happened. Just thinking of her story now, I've got goosebumps again.

Sarah's shift ended at 1am. She'd cleaned her station and then walked back to her house from the bar. She said she'd made sure all the doors and windows were locked, had climbed into bed, watched a little TV, and then she thought had gone to sleep about 1:45. She didn't think she slept very long.

Shortly after falling asleep, Sarah was awakened by a clicking sound. She sat up in bed when she realized the sound was her vertical blinds clicking off of each other, as if they were blowing in a breeze. Since she had just checked all the windows, this didn't seem possible. Then she realized her TV was back on, which she had just shut off. Strangely, however, there was no picture; just a blank blue screen.

Then she saw the little girl. Sarah said she looked like she was about six or seven years old. The little girl was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of Sarah's bedroom, and at first Sarah thought she was playing with a toy or something on the floor. Sarah's first reaction wasn't fear; her first thought was that this little girl was sleep-walking or something and had managed to get into the house. So she said "Honey, are you okay? Do you know where you are?"

At the sound of Sarah's voice, the little girl looked up - and she had no eyes. Sarah said she could see through two holes where the little girl's eyes should have been; she could see the room behind her. Sarah jumped up, ran out of the room, ran out the front door, ran to our house. She said she came to our house because she had seen us at the bar that night and knew we were home.

Sarah said that while at first she thought the little girl had been playing with a toy on the floor, she now thought the girl had been arranging her stuff in that circle. That perfect circle of junk on the carpet was exactly where the little girl had been sitting.

Story source.

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, sleep where your body drops. You will know in the morning if you've escaped successfully.

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, 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.

The Holders.

REVEAL

ECTO