I am going back through all of my r/nosleep posts, and have realized that putting the source through the tumblr posting tool is not actually showing the source to the post. I’ll be spending tomorrow editing each and every one to make sure the source is properly attributed. I will be putting the original link to the reddit post and user at the end of each r/nosleep post I make rather than in the source option tumblr gives me. I am sorry to any user whose story I have posted without a link back to the original.
Please if anyone sees an unsourced post or a wrong source message me so that I can correct it.
First, I need to apologize to you /r/nosleep. I am so sorry. I’m coming to you in my time of need.
Please help me.
Please read this to the end.
That’s it. That’s all I ask. I don’t know what to do or where to turn. Please just help me. That’s all I ask.
My name is Andrea, and I’m a single mother.
I don’t tell you this like it’s some badge of honor and I’m expecting cookies, milk, and chocolate-covered snowflakes like most of the others in my social circle would. They want your pats on the back and recognition; I just want some of your time.
I see motherhood as a burden. Necessary, yes, but still a burden. My son’s name is Jesse. He’s eleven. That’s fifth grade for the math haters.
Jesse started the fifth grade this year like any other kid would. There was a little bit of trepidation and lots of excitement. He was a happy-go-lucky sort of kid. Full of life and energy.
All that changed after he met Stan on Tuesday.
Stan was a late addition to Jesse’s class; a transfer student from another district. Jesse’s teacher sat Stan next to Jesse.
When I picked Jesse up after school on Tuesday, he told me that Stan was his new best friend. He wasn’t acting like himself though. He was pale and sweaty. I took his temperature, but he wasn’t running a fever. I asked about his day and all he would tell me was that Stan was his new best friend.
“Stan’s my new best friend,” Jesse would say.
“I know. I can’t wait to meet him,” I’d say back.
“Mom, Stan is great. You should meet him. He’s my new best friend. The best in the world.”
We must’ve had this same conversation a thousand times that night. When I tucked Jesse in bed, he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. He put his little hand in front of his face and wiggled his index finger, telling me to come closer.
I bent over him and he put his hands to either side of his mouth. You know, the little kid way of telling a secret? Well I turned my head and he whispered something into my ear that chilled me. At the time, I didn’t know why it chilled me, but it did.
He whispered, “You believe me. Right, Mom?”
I sat back up and looked down at him. “Believe you about what, honey?”
“Stan,” he said. “Stan’s my best friend.”
I nodded and took his temperature once more.
Again, he wasn’t running a fever.
I went to bed, but couldn’t really sleep that night.
I actually liked it. It wasn’t all that scary, but the story was interesting and kept me intrigued. I probably wouldn’t buy the DVD, but I enjoyed seeing it in theaters. It definitely falls more on the mindfuck spectrum of horror, so if that’s your thing I’d recommend seeing it.
I was driving a shortcut from Twentynine Palms, CA to Albuquerque, NM. Twentynine Palms is located in the desolate high desert east of LA. The shortcut was all two lane road through total nothingness, except for passing through Amboy, CA. Amboy is a nearly abandoned town nearly as far below sea level as Death Valley, with a dormant volcano and lava field on one side and a salt flat on the other. It was also, at the time, a hotspot for satanic group activity.
So I was driving by myself in the afternoon. I stopped in Amboy and snapped a picture of the city sign, just to prove I was there to friends who dared me to take that route to the I-40. I got back in my car and proceeded to drive up into the mountain range between Amboy and the I-40.
Once I reach the top I am driving north through a canyon with high grass on both sides of the road. Up ahead I see some stuff in the middle of the road. As I approach I slow down to see a red Pontiac Fiero stopped sideways across both lanes, a suitcase open with clothes scattered everywhere and two bodies laying face down in the road, a man and a woman.
I stop a hundred feet or so away and the hair on the back of my neck is standing up. Being a Marine, I reach under the seat and pull out a 9mm pistol and chamber a round. Something seemed very wrong, it looked too perfect as if it were staged. An ambush? Was I being paranoid? Something was just wrong. Getting out of the car seemed unthinkable, it was the horror movie move.
As I scanned the road I saw a line I could drive. Pass the guy in the road on his left, swerve to the right side of the woman, behind the Fiero and I’d be on the other side. I dropped it into first gear, punched it and drove the line I planned.
I passed the back of the Fiero without hitting it or either of the bodies in the road. I continued forward a couple hundred feet and slowed down so I could breathe and let my heart slow down. As I looked up into the rearview mirror I saw that the two bodies had gotten up to their knees and twenty or so people emerged from the tall grass on either side of the road by the car and bodies. At that moment my right foot smashed the gas pedal to the floor and did not let up until I had to slowdown for the I-40 east onramp.
I will never know what would have happened to me had I gotten out of the car to check on the bodies or stopped my car closer to them. Somehow I do not think it would have been good. Sometimes real life can be scarier than a movie.