Quote:
Originally Posted by Vehn  I few months ago, I went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave me my key and told me that on the way to my room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So I followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed. The next night my curiosity would not leave me alone about the room with no number on the door. I walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. I bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling my eye. What I saw was a hotel bedroom, like mine, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. I stared in confusion for a while. I almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to. This disinclination saved my life. I crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, I returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all I saw was redness. I couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.
At this point I decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, "Did you look through the keyhole?" I told her that I had and she said, "Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red." |
lol copypasta
edit: Found a better one.
You were out of town for the weekend. When you came back to your apartment, your mailbox was stuffed full. At least 30 letters. Letters with no return address, several of them felt soggy and heavy, as though they were recently wet, or perhaps contained a liquid. All of the letters have your name and address written on them, and many of them had your name scratched all over them in red in. They don't smell nice, they smell like rotting meat and old garbage and you're reluctant to take them back to your room, but curiosity gets the better of you.
So you manage to cart them all back to your room, you dump them in your kitchenette sink because you don't want them smelling up the rest of the apartment. You grab one that doesn't seem damp and isn't covered with writing, and open it up. There's pictures inside. Pictures of people you don't know, with their eyes torn out, teeth missing, unhinged jaws hanging open, throats ripped out. You're horrified and yet you can't help but wonder what's in the rest of the letters. You open more, and more to discover increasingly gruesome photos of dead people. Piles of bodies with limps missing, splayed open corpses on operating tables with their vital organs removed, hanged bodies that have been gutted and bled dry. Some of the soggy letters had blood and other fluids in them.
The more letters you open, the more you notice that not all of the people are strangers. Some of them were people you see at work, others people you went to high school with. By the time you get to the last few letters, the pictures are of the mutilated bodies of your close friends and family members.
Eventually you reach the last letter. You don't want to know what's in it, but it's not like you have a choice now. You peel the letter open, and it's a picture of yourself. Not dead, eyes intact, no limbs missing. It's a picture of you entering your apartment building earlier that day, shortly before you collected your disgusting letters. As you hear a door elsewhere in your apartment open, you black out.