A Campfire Story

For a number of years I was a camp counselor at an overnight camp in the Muskokas. I loved it more than any job I've ever had, despite the nonexistent pay, annoying campers, long days and short nights, crappy food, etc. For one, I got to tell as many scary stories as I could sputter out. There was nothing better than hanging around a dying campfire with a bunch of Junior High kids who were demanding the scariest, most blood-curdling tales I knew. And I told them all: the babysitter and the eerie clown statue; the driver and the creepy gas attendant; the woman and her licking dog.

I saved my best stories for the overnight trips we made in Algonquin Park—for non-Canadians, it's a massive park in the middle of Ontario, spanning nearly 8,000 square kilometres—when days would be spent canoeing on pristine lakes and nights would be spent around the fire, singing and making s'mores and being as rowdy as the only people within miles could be. Once the kids had quieted down, I told them stories of a stalker in the woods with a face so horrifying it paralyzed all of its victims in fear, or the group of campers who decided to spend a night across the lake from an abandoned (OR WAS IT?) insane asylum.

On this particular night, I'd finished up the tales, once again insisting that they were entirely true, and sent the campers to their tents. It had been an exhausting day, and none of the six kids were in any mood to stay up later. My fellow counselor had also decided to pack it in, leaving just me on a fallen log next to the dying fire. I took a deep breath of the cool, fresh pine-scented air and looked out at the lake. The partial moon reflected off the glassy water, and on the other side I could see towering cliffs, going up several hundred feet. I considered whether we could canoe over, climb up a few dozen feet, and do some cliff jumping. I grinned. The camp director would have my head if we did that. If he found out.

Movement at the very top of the cliffs caught my eye. There was a small light bobbing along the peak. At first I thought it was a star, but it was larger and gave off a golden glow. It slowly moved back and forth in a small arc. As I sat up and watched it, another appeared next to it, bobbing along the top of the cliff. Then another. And another. And a few more.

My stomach dropped into my feet. I grabbed my bag and pulled my digital camera out, then focused it on the little glowing orbs and used the zoom function. I counted them. And then I counted again.

"Oh shit."

In a flash I was up and running to the tents. "Hey guys? Wake up. We gotta go."

There was movement in the tents, and then I had seven confused heads looking out at me. My co-counselor wore a mixture of concern and pure anger. "I hate to do this," I continued, "but the clouds are looking really threatening. There's a big rainstorm coming in. If we get caught in it, it's going to ruin our trip."

"Seriously?" Laura, my co-counselor, asked. "We're in the middle of the woods. Where would we go?"

I pulled a map and flashlight out of my bag. "There's a ranger's station a few kilometres south of us." I traced the path with my finger. Thank God. "We can make it there in a few hours."

The campers groaned. "Can't we just go in the morning?"

"No!" I shouted, my voice echoing across the lake. I lowered it. "C'mon, let's get packed up and go. I'll tell you a story along the way." I smiled, though I could feel my lips quivering. "It's my best one."

That seemed to get them going, and within ten minutes the tents were packed up and we'd begun our trek into the deep woods, with small flashlights our only guide. When I was confident we were moving at a steady pace, I allowed myself to relax and began to tell my favourite campfire story:

Centuries before the European settlers made their way into the country, it was inhabited by the First Nations people. They had made the trip from across Western Canada, following the migration patterns of large animals such as buffalo and bison. Eventually they reached Ontario, at which point they split off into smaller groups of travelers, each searching for a section of land to call their own.

Legend has it that one group, consisting of about twenty men, women and children, had ventured through this very area in search of a place to call home. Though it wasn't even the end of October, the weather had made a turn for the worse, and as the group journeyed around the lake, a fierce blizzard hit. Within an hour, the group found themselves in blinding snow and below-zero temperatures. The clothes they had on them were made for the fall, not this sort of weather, and there weren't any Canada Goose jackets around back then. But they pressed on. They didn't have any other choice.

Night was falling as they reached a cliff bluff, which towered over a cold, choppy lake. There was no stopping for this group—they'd die if they didn't make it past the cliffs. But with darkness setting in and the snow falling even harder, visibility was almost nonexistent. So one of the elders had an idea. Using the little kerosene they had left, he lit a lantern for each of the travelers and had them carry it in front of them, not so that they could see the cliffs, but so they could see who was in front of them, allowing them to all follow each other across the narrow bluffs.

With the strongest of the men leading the way, the group began to cross the cliffs. The freezing, wet snow soaked every bone in their body. The harsh wind chilled any exposed skin and threatened to push them right off the rock. Their path was no more than a few feet wide, and would have been slippery to even the best of hiking boots, let alone hand-fashioned moccasins. Slowly—painstakingly slowly—they made their way up the cliffs, praying that whatever lay on the other side could shelter them from the intensifying storm.

They were about halfway up, hundreds of feet above the lake, though it was well out of their vision. In fact, all they could see in this blinding storm was the lantern in front of them, acting as a beacon to guide their steps. If the light moved up, they moved up. If it went down, they moved down. Each of the travelers was almost in a trance, caring about nothing but the glowing orb a few feet away.

For the leader, though, there was no such luxury. He moved forward blindly, feeling along the cliff with his free arm, though his skin was so numb he could barely feel anything. As the path wound back again, he made a misstep and lost his footing, just as a gust of wind blasted his back. He desperately grasped for the hold, but his frozen fingers couldn't get anything. With a terrified scream, he slipped off the cliffs and fell into the icy black lake.

The rest of the party didn't see him fall, of course. All they saw was his glowing orb dropping away from the bluff and disappearing in the darkness. There was no time to mourn. They continued on, but the storm was worsening. After another minute, one of the children, his body unable to withstand the cold, dropped away, his lantern glowing until the choppy waters put it out. Another, having seen this, lost his balance and fell. This pattern went on until there were just five people left, fumbling along in the darkness, following the light in front.

As hard as they tried, the cliffs were unforgiving. The remaining men fell down to four. Then three. And two. And then there was just one left, who legend says cursed the earth as his legs slipped and he plunged hundreds of feet down, his lantern the last one to be extinguished.

"Of the twenty members who tried to overcome the cliffs," I finished, "not one of them survived. They say that sometimes, when the conditions are right, you can see the orbs along the cliff, symbols of the lost travelers who will never find their homes."

As the story ended, leaving the campers in an eerie silence, I saw lights up ahead. A wave of relief poured over me. We picked up the pace and found the ranger's station bursting with activity, with a half-dozen people running around, loading up trucks and shouting into radios. The wind was beginning to really pick up, and I heard thunder in the distance.

"Hey! You kids!" A large, burly man with a full beard and mustache ran up to us. "Get in the trucks! We don't have much time!"

Laura and I led the kids to one of the pickup trucks. "What's going on?" I asked the man.

"Didn't you hear?" Another gust of wind. "Huge storm system's heading right for us. Already been tornadoes touched down. We're getting everyone out of here. Let's go!"

We all climbed into the truck's bed. I collapsed down, feeling like I'd just been punched in the gut. The ranger climbed into the front and we took off down a makeshift road. My head was spinning. It wasn't possible…

"How…" Laura slid next to me, keeping her voice low. "How did you know we had to get out of there?"

I looked over at her. My face felt empty of any blood. "I saw the lights."

"What? No. No!" She gasped, then caught herself. "How many?"

I took a deep breath. "Eight."

She looked around at all the campers, who were now lying against each other, asleep despite the bumpy road. "That's all of us. My God…"

I nodded and leaned against her. Laura had heard the travelers' story before, and she knew that I'd left out a key bit of information. The lights were real, but they were never random. If they were shining—bobbing back and forth, swinging in a small arc—it was because they had a message. A warning.

One light would shine, for each person who was about to die.

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This Creepy Campfire Story is written by /u/vital_dual On the subreddit /r/NoSleep

Head over to NoSleep If you want more!!

A Story to Scare My Son

“Son, we need to have a chat about Internet Safety.” I slowly crumpled down onto the floor next to him. His laptop was open and he was playing Minecraft on a public server. His eyes were locked into the action. Comments scrolled down the side of the screen in a chat box. “Son, can you stop your game for a minute?”

He exited the world, closed the laptop, and looked up at me. "Dad, is this going to be another cheesy scary story?"

"Whhaaaat?" I faked hurt feelings for a second, and then grinned at him, "I thought you liked my cautionary tales?" He grew up listening to my stories about children who encountered witches, ghosts, werewolves, and trolls. Like many generations of parents, I used scary stories to reinforce morals and teach lessons about safety. Single dads like me should use all the parenting tools at their disposal.

He scrunched his face a little, "They were fine when I was six. But now that I'm getting older, they don't scare me anymore. They seem kinda silly. If you are going to tell a story about the Internet, can you make it really, really scary!?” I squinted at him incredulously. He folded his arms, “Dad. I’m ten and I can handle it."

"hmm… okay... I’ll try."

I began, “Once upon a time, there was a boy named Colby….” His expression indicated that he wasn't impressed with the terror of the introduction. He sighed deeply and settled in for one of Dad’s cheesy stories. I continued...

Colby went online and joined several children's websites. After a while, he started talking to other kids in-game and on the message boards. He made friends with another ten year old boy named Helper23. They liked the same video games and shows. They laughed at each other's jokes. They explored new games together.

After several months of friendship, Colby gave Helper23 six diamonds in a game they were playing. This was a very generous gift. Colby's birthday was coming up and Helper23 wanted to send him a cool present in real life. Colby figured it wouldn't hurt to give Helper23 his home address - as long as he promised not to tell it to any strangers or grownups. Helper23 swore he wouldn't tell anyone else, not even his own parents, and set about mailing the package.

I paused the story and asked my son, "Do you think that was a good idea?” “No!" he said shaking his head vigorously. In spite of himself, he was getting into the story.

Well neither did Colby. Colby felt guilty about giving away his home address - and his guilt began to grow. And grow. By the time he put on his pajamas the next night, his guilt and fear were larger than anything else in his life. He resolved to admit the truth to his parents. The punishment would be steep, but it was worth it to have a clear conscience. He squirmed in his bed as he waited for his parents to tuck him in.

My son knew the scary part was coming up. In spite of his tough talk, he leaned forward wide-eyed. I spoke quietly and deliberately.

He heard all the noises of the house. The washing machine bounced around in the laundry room. Branches scraped against the brick outside his room. His baby brother cooed in the nursery. And there were some other noises he couldn't... quite... pinpoint. Finally, his dad’s footsteps echoed down the hall. “Hey Dad?” He called out nervously. “I have something to tell you.”

His dad stuck his head in the doorway at a weird angle. In the darkness, his mouth didn't seem to move and the eyes were all wrong. "Yes, son" The voice was way off, too. "Are you okay, Dad?" The boy asked. "Uh-huh" sung the father in his strangely affected voice. Colby pulled his covers up defensively. "Ummm... Is Mom around?"

"Here I am!" Mom's head popped into the doorway below Dad's. Her voice was an unnatural falsetto. "Were you about to tell us that you gave our home address to Helper23? You shouldn't have done that! We TOLD you never to give out personal information on the Internet!"

She continued, "He wasn't really a kid! He just pretended to be one. Do you know what he did? He came to our house, broke in, and murdered both of us! Just so he could spend some time with you!"

A fat man in a wet jacket emerged in the child's doorway holding the two severed heads. Colby shrieked and gasped as the man dropped the heads on the ground, unsheathed his knife, and moved into the room to work on the boy.

My son screamed too. He twisted his hands defensively over his face. But we were just getting started with the story.

After several hours, the boy was almost dead and his screams had become whimpers. The killer noticed the wailing of a baby in another room and removed his knife from Colby. This was a special treat. He had never murdered a baby before and was excited about the prospect. Helper23 left Colby to die and followed the cries through the house like a homing beacon.

In the nursery, he walked to the crib, picked the baby up, and held it in his arms. He moved towards the changing table to get a better look. But as he held the baby, the crying died down. The baby looked up and smiled. Helper23 had never held a baby, but he gently bounced it in his arms like a pro. He wiped his bloody hands on the blanket so he could stroke the baby's cheek, "Hey there, sweet little guy." The beautiful rage of sadism melted into something warmer and softer.

He walked out of the nursery, took the baby home, named him William, and raised him as his very own.

After I finished the story, my son was visibly shaken. Between ragged staccato breaths, he stammered, "But Dad, MY name's William." I gave him a classic dad-wink and tousled his hair. "Of course it is, son." William ran up the stairs to his bedroom in a fury of sobs.

But deep down... I think he liked the story.

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This Mind=Blown story is written by /u/OvenFriend on the Subreddit /r/NoSleep.

Head over to NoSleep if you want more!!

I was a part of Queen's Guard in England - One of the rare jobs where you aren't allowed to move, no matter what stands in front of you.

This happened to my brother-in-law two years ago. I am telling the story exactly the way he told me it. He appeared very genuine when telling it, and, you know what, after all that's happened to me, I have no reason not believe him. And as for you, well, you be the judge.

---

I was in the English army, you know? Two tours in Iraq, one in Afghanistan. My mom absolutely hated the life I chose, and I can’t really blame her. But you know what? The ****ed up part is that the biggest horror I’ve ever experienced wasn’t in one of those shitty eastern places, no, it was in the very center of European “civilization”, London.

After I finished my third tour, I was awarded by the army. Apparently, surviving fighting Taliban in the mountains is reason enough to be honored. They offered me a spot in Queen’s Guard. I’m not sure how much you know about that, but in England, it’s a pretty big deal. And I hated it. I was permanently stationed at home, and as a reward for my “bravery” I was now standing in front of buildings motionless while annoying Chinese tourists tried to make me laugh. I wanted out, but the honor of the position, combined with my mother’s happiness that the biggest danger I could ever face would be an Asian tourist, I had no choice but to do it. Only if I knew I’d be safer in some cave in Kabul…

So I was stationed to work at the Tower of London few shifts a week. Shifts were usually 2-3 hours long, depending on how many people worked that day. Gotta tell you, that job gets old quickly. Drunk people who try to mess with you along with annoying tourists who think they’re the first ones ever to try to make you laugh, you just want out of your own skin. But it was a job, and it paid, so I shut the **** up and did it.

Now, this one day, this one day in 2012 started boring as any other day. I had a few French guys trying to mess with me (god they’re the worst, and you can’t do shit unless they threaten you), then I had a group of drunk Russian chicks which wasn’t so bad. The heat was just starting to melt that ****ing hat into my skull when a huge group of tourists showed up. Some sort of a guided tour, I assumed. They all did their standard spiel, pictures, “funny” faces, jokes, etc. They all had their cameras out, and they all wore same t-shirts, some Big Ben tour bullshit. All but one. I noticed her standing in the back, just staring at me. She was a good looking woman, probably early forties, really dark long hair and somewhat pale, which made me think she was English. She did seem to be the part of the tour as she stood with all of the others.

After the group finally took enough pictures and realized I wasn’t gonna laugh, they started moving on. Except the pale woman who stayed and kept watching me. Now, I’ve seen my fair share of people doing all kinds of stupid stuff to get a reaction out of me, but this was a new one. Not only that, this lady was committed. Two hours and hundreds of tourists later, she still stood in the very same spot, just staring at me. The day got pretty hot and there was no way she was comfortable, but I shit you not, she was calmer than I was. She wasn’t smiling which was strange because I assumed she was trying to make me react. About thirty minutes later, when the crowd around me slowly died out, she took a slow step towards me. Then another one. “Here we go, joke incoming” I thought as she took her sweet time walking up closer.

She stopped about two feet away from me. She was looking straight into my eyes. Tilted her head to the left, then to the right, which I assumed was her attempt at making me laugh. Then I realized this woman wasn’t here to joke around. Still standing at two feet away, she started leaning towards me. There was something just so ****ed up about her mannerisms that made me extremely uneasy. She never lost an eye contact with me. She kept leaning towards me while her feet never moved. Her face stopped just short of touching mine and her position seemed unnatural at that point. Her head started slowly shaking, like when you get out of the pool or a shower and are freezing, you know?

And then, then she scared the ****ing shit out of me. I had people screaming in my face, I even had a moron trying to fight me, but what she did was by far the worst. She opened her mouth as if she were about to let the loudest scream at me, but nothing came out. Nothing. She just stood there, leaned at an unnatural angle, inches from my face, letting a ****ing silent scream or whatever that was out of her wide open mouth. And the speed of her shaking increased. Now, I’m not gonna lie, even though it was really hot that day, I started feeling cold and goosebumps ran under my uniform. I finally got myself together and started marching away from her – we are allowed to do a 10-step march occasionally.

When I got to the end of one way, I stopped and closed my eyes. I just wanted her to be gone when I turned around. As I made a 180 degree turn, I instantly froze. She was right in front of me; leaned all the way to my face, mouth open even wider, head now shaking uncontrollably. I was so taken aback, I was unable to react. Noise, screaming, and other stuff I can deal with, but this silent creepy ****ing behavior was honestly intimidating me.

“Make way for the Queens Guard!” I yelled. We are allowed to say that when someone is in our way. She didn’t react, but she did lean farther to about an inch from my face.

“MAKE WAY FOR THE QUEEN’S GUARD” I yelled even louder, hoping my voice wouldn’t break.

She had absolutely zero regard for my orders. Unwilling to deal with the bullshit any longer, I stepped back and pointed my bayonet at her. That was our last resort for annoying tourists.

She immediately closed her mouth and leaned back into a normal human position. I wasn’t going to wait for her to do whatever she was about to do, so I started marching around her. When I got back to my post, I turned around and stood still. I couldn’t see her in the corner of my eye which gave me a huge relief. “Jesus, this ****ing job” I thought to myself “I’m gonna have to look into…”

“10, 9, 8” someone whispered in my right ear. It must be her. She was behind me.

“10, 9, 8” whispers came from my left side. Goosebumps were at an all-time erect now. Hilarious, isn’t it? Combat vet, killed more people than he’d ever want to admit, is now scared to hell of some batshit tourist lady.

“10, 9, 8, 10, 9, 8, 10, 9, 8” she sped up her whispering. Then walked in front of me. “10, 9, 8, 10, 9, 8” she was now whispering incredibly fast. Actually, whispering doesn’t describe it properly. It was like yelling, but in a whisper tone, if that makes any sense. It was surreal. She leaned towards my face again, whispering those ****ing numbers franticly.

I was about to break my orders. I couldn’t take it anymore. There was something ****ed up about this woman, and I couldn’t deal with it.

“Ma’m,” I spoke in a voice of the biggest scared pussy, “Ma’m will you please step…”

And then, a huge group of loud tourist ran up to us. The crazy woman leaned back, still looking at me. She whispered “10, 9, 8” one more time while never losing an eye contact. Then she walked away, as slowly as she moved around me. It was so strange watching her slowly disappear into the crowd. All that was left was a strange feeling of something unnatural. That, and a group of life-saving Asian tourists. Never thought I’d be so happy to see a Nikon-snapping Chinese guy.

After my shift was done, I went into our base and told the story to a couple of guys. They all had some experience with creepy people, but never on this level. When our shift commander came, guys jokingly told him how I was “abused” on duty. He wanted some laughs, so he asked for the full story. But when I started telling what happened, he quickly lost his smile.

“Stop, stop,” he said. “Did you talk to her?”

“Sir?” I asked intrigued.

“Son, did you or did you not speak to this woman?”

I wasn’t gonna lose my weekly pay over breaking that stupid no-talking rule, so I lied. “Of course not, sir.”

He seemed to calm down. “Good. And if she ever comes back, never talk back, understood? And that goes for all of you.”

Joking atmosphere quickly died out in the break room. I was puzzled, but I was even more tired, so I decided to go home and sleep instead of worrying about crazy ****ing tourists.

Next few shifts went by as boring as they were supposed to be. Woman was nowhere to be seen, and since my girlfriend was about to visit me all the way from Netherlands, I forgot about the incident.

Tuesday night around 3am, I was awoken by loud banging at the door. For some strange reason, the first thought that crossed my mind was that ****ed up woman from a week ago.

“Babe, would you mind peeping through the hole to see who it is?” I lazily mumbled as I gently pushed my girlfriend. She was dead asleep; I swear nothing could wake her up. Semi-conscious, I stumbled through the hallway and to the door. “Who is it?” I muttered while peeking through the hole, but it was too dark outside. That sobered me up. “Who is it?” I asked again, but the only answer I got was louder banging.

“**** it” I thought as I took a deep breath and opened the door.

There are about million things I’d rather see standing in front of me at that moment. And there was only one person I did not expect to be at the door.

My girlfriend.

I was supposed to pick her up tonight.

I nearly lost all control of my legs. Thousand things raced through my mind which was having trouble comprehending what in the **** was happening.

“Thanks for picking me up at the Heathrow, asshole,” my girlfriend said as she slammed the carryon on my chest. I was still speechless.

“So, I travel all the way from Amsterdam to see you, and you forget? Really?”

I wasn’t hearing it. I knew I was half asleep when I got up, but there WAS someone in my bed. I wasn’t dreaming for ****’s sake.

“Stay here” I mumbled as I handed her the bag back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just stay here.”

Not knowing where I got the courage to walk to the bedroom, I slowly made my way.

I know what you’re thinking – in movies and books, guy walks into the room and boom, its empty, right? I ****ing wish.

I walked into my room and it was completely dark. But I could hear breathing. Heavy breathing. My pulse was so high I was sure I was gonna pass out, but I flipped the switch.

“7, 6, 5, 7, 6, 5” whispers came from the corner of the room where she stood. That same ****ing woman. She stood almost glued to the corner of the room, her back to the wall. She was looking straight at me. And though I was sure I lost the power of speech, I managed to squeeze out a “What the ****”.

“7, 6, 5” she said as she took the first slow step towards me. Her mouth was always wide open, as if she were letting out that damn soundless scream. Every step she’d make, she’d close her mouth enough to say “7, 6, 5”.

I couldn’t move. Nothing in this world existed besides this woman slowly walking towards me. What a creepy and unsettling feeling. Like, I wasn’t physically afraid of her, right? I could take her down – and was ready to. But this kind of fear was something foreign to me. Seemed like I was afraid for my, shit, I don’t know, soul? You know what I mean? I knew she couldn’t hurt me physically, but I was stills scared. Not to mention I ****ing somehow slept in the same bed with this whatever the **** she is.

She came incredibly close to me. The familiar lean. An inch from my face. My breathing was so irregular and loud, it was the only noise in the room.

“7, 6, 5.”

Suddenly, something about this had a strangely familiar feeling.

“WHAT THE ****?!” scream came from behind me.

My girlfriend.

I snapped into reality, turned around and grabbed my girl. “Run!” I yelled as we escaped the room. We ran to the kitchen where I grabbed one of those “As seen on TV” steel-cutting knives. My girlfriend was just silently weeping at my side, unable to even ask questions.

I could hear footsteps. First, I saw her shadow, then I saw her calmly walking through the hallway. Her mouth was now so unnaturally wide open, and she wasn’t looking at me anymore. She was looking at the ceiling as she slowly made her way to the door. Her head was shaking very fast. It was abso-****ing-lutely surreal, I’m telling you. I mean, just imagine, this woman, who creeped you out a week ago, is now walking through your place at 3 in the morning, staring at the ceiling with mouth impossibly wide open. Not to mention you slept next to her for who knows how long.

When she finally walked out, I ran to the door and slammed it. Girlfriend was still unable to speak. When we got ourselves together, I was afraid she’d think I cheated on her with this woman, but she didn’t. She saw that horror walk through out hallway and she knew something was wrong.

I was terrified, but I didn’t let it show. The scariest part of everything was that I had a job that required me to stand still and not react to my surroundings. I told my girlfriend about my experience with this ****ed up woman, but I didn’t mention her “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5” whispers. I didn’t want to scare her any further.

Because , what could those whispers be if not a countdown?

I was hesitant to call the police after that crazy whatever-she-was left my apartment, but my girlfriend wouldn’t have it. Police were at our place in about 20 minutes. Took our statements, woman’s description, and told us to immediately call should anything else happen.

But my mind was set on something else. My commander. He told me not to talk to her. And I did. And now I’m waking up in bed with her, and how the **** did she even get into my flat, shit man, too many thoughts.

The next day I went to my commander’s office.

“Sir,” I said very carefully – you need to understand that losing this job, no matter how shitty it was, definitely wasn’t on my to-do list - “Sir, we need to talk.”

He looked up at me from his desk and I swear to you, I swear he already knew. His face lost all the emotion. He didn’t even ask what was happening. “Sit,” he said as he leaned back in his chair.

“Sir, I…” I was having a hard time confessing to breaking the rules of the Guard.

“You spoke to her. You responded.” He said as he leaned towards me. “Didn’t you.”

“Well, I just asked her to move, that’s all.”

“No, not the Queen’s Guard command. Did you say anything else to her?” “I did.” ** If you remember, besides me yelling “MAKE WAY FOR THE QUEEN’S GUARD”, I did say “Ma’m, will you please…”**

“God damn it, son. God ****ing damn it.”

This was the first time I heard my commander curse.

“Sir, who is this woman?”

“I’m going to file for your immediate removal from the guard,” he brushed me off as he opened his desk to look for something.

“Sir?” I asked, not believing I was about to lose my job.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you something else to do. But your days in the Guard are over. Expect the transfer within a week.”

“Sir, but I was just…” “That is all, son, you can leave now.” He said, not even looking at me.

I was pissed. But then again, if I was going to keep the paycheck without having to stand in the street and deal with tourists/crazy ****ing creatures, I was fine.

The new schedule came out and, what do you know, I was only scheduled to work one shift that week. That was really handy because I was supposed to babysit my 7 year old niece visiting from Birmingham, and I had already planned out the whole weekend with her.

Thursday came with no further incidents with the mouth-wide-open bitch. My girlfriend had finally calmed down. She left back to Amsterdam that morning and in a good mood. Life was getting back on track.

My shift that day was 6-10pm in front of St. James Palace. There are usually two of us working there, but for some reason, I was scheduled to work alone from 9-10. Here’s how the spot where I worked looks. The little wooden post is where we’d stand in case of a storm. “Ok, buddy, hang in there, almost done,” my fellow guard said at 9:02 pm, as he marched back inside.

“One more hour. One last hour of this damn job and I am free. God, it feels good…” I thought as I stood still in front of my post. Night was unusually quiet, but it was starting to rain, so I guess it was to be expected. 9:30pm. Still light rain, still boring as ****. Almost there. 9:45pm. Rain was picking up, so I decided to spend my last few minutes in the post.

I turned around.

I shouldn’t have.

There she was.

If I were a writer, I’d use all these descriptive tools to paint a picture of how horrifying that woman looked that night. Let me tell you, this was the single most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a child getting killed by a land mine.

The woman was standing at the door of the post. She wore a white dress that was nearly shining in the dark. But her face, **** man, her face. She wasn’t looking at me, which somehow made it even ****ing worst. She was looking at the sky or whatever the hell was up there, and her eyes went so far up I could only see bottom of her pupils. Her mouth was so wide open, I was now nearly sure it wasn’t possible for a human to do this.

There is something surreal about standing in front of someone who doesn’t act rationally. Like, if you’re getting mugged, you know they want your money. Shit, if you’re getting shot at, you know they want to kill you. But the true mental horror is in not knowing what in the **** she wanted from me.

9:49. Ok, 11 minutes of this and I can finally…

She took a step towards me. Then another one. At about two feet from me, she stopped.

She started leaning. That ****ing lean. Her face stopped just short of mine. At first her head started shaking slowly, but started to move increasingly fast. It was a small kind of shaking, as I said before, kinda like when you get out of the shower into an air-conditioned room and start shaking. The pupils were so high up, I could barely see them. Her head was now trembling so fast I was wondering how it was possible. And that mouth, man, that mouth was so unnaturally, un-****ing-humanly open. I swear I saw corners of her lips starting to bleed because her skin wasn’t able to support the opening.

No sound.

The street was silent, probably the most silent I’ve ever seen it. And the worst part is, it was night time. I know I do this a lot, but just imagine it one more time – you’re standing motionlessly in the middle of the street, and there is this bleeding-wide-open mouth woman an inch from your face, doing whatever the **** she’s doing, and not a soul in sight. And no sound, whatsoever.

9:54pm.

Come the **** on.

And then, as if she heard my thought, her pupils dropped back and looked straight at me. I nearly jumped back. She closed her mouth, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d rather she kept it open. Her jaw started rapidly opening and closing, as if she were biting something invisible. Her teeth were hitting each other so hard, I was sure they’d break.

That was it for me, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I took a step back and screamed “JUST ****ING STOP ALREADY!”

And she did. Teeth stopped clenching, mouth closed, and she stood back up from the leaning. She took a step towards me and, for the first time ever, smiled.

“4, 3, 2, 1, 4, 3, 2, 1, 4 ,3 ,2 ,1” she started whispering, never losing the smile.

“What is that, what the **** is that?” I begged. I was ready to grab her, shake, her, anything, just for an answer. What the **** did she want from me, right?

9:58pm.

“What the ****!” came from behind me.

My commander.

He ran up to me, disregarding the crazy bitch in front.

“Did you talk to her?”

“I…”

“DID YOU ****ING TALK TO HER?” he yelled, louder and while grabbing my uniform. He didn’t even pay attention to the woman.

“Yes.”

“Jesus Christ… What number?” he said while finally letting me out of his fists.

“Sir?” I answered confused as you can imagine.

“What was the last number she said? What was it? Was it a zero?”

“No, I think she stopped at a 1… But why…?”

All this time, the woman just stood still and looked at us with a smile. Then, she took a step towards us. She slowly walked in between my commander and me.

“Don’t say a thing to her, not a ****ing thing,” the commander said with obvious fear on his face.

The woman turned from me and towards him. She got into his face, and even from behind, I could see her mouth being wide open.

“Go, just go,” the commander said as he looked at me. He was avoiding acknowledging her. I heard her teeth clenching.

“I can’t just leave you,” I said.

“Go, and don’t come back here. I’ll take care of this.”

You know, I like to think of myself as brave, but at that moment, all I wanted to do is leave. I hope you can’t blame me for that. So I started running away.

“And never talk to her again!” the commander yelled as I got away.

Now, I know a lot this stuff sounds like bullshit, and you’re right, it really does. Sure, looking back at it now, I could’ve arrested her, hell I could’ve even killed the bitch, and so could’ve the commander. But you know what? When you find yourself in a situation as impossible and as unreal as that one, you don’t act rationally, you don’t think logically as you would in a normal situation. I went home, took a cold shower (after making sure my doors were locked) and I collapsed on the bed.

In the morning I texted my shift buddy to see if commander was ok and his “Yeah, why wouldn’t he be?” text back meant he made it. That’s all I needed to know, I was out of that life.

---

My niece came in town on Friday and I had her for the weekend. Running around a seven year old will make you lose your mind, let alone leave time to think about some crazy woman harassing you. Besides, I was done with that job – that morning I got transfer papers.

I spent the whole day taking the kid different places she liked. Shit was exhausting. Saturday morning I made us some breakfast as we watched cartoons for the good part of it. Then we put in a Catwoman movie and my niece dressed as her – she loved her for some reason (movie was a complete trash). I guess I wasn’t used to having to take care of the kids because I fell asleep on the couch, already exhausted.

My niece woke me up.

“Uki,” she said, that’s what she calls me, “Uki, let’s play.” She was holding my old pair of walkie-talkies. I used to love those as a kid, so I couldn’t say no to her.

“Sure, let’s see if these old things work. Go outside of the house, I want to check the range on these babies.”

Her face lit up as she ran out.

I turned the walkie-talkie on and started playing with it. Static noise was there, meaning the batteries worked, it was only a matter of finding the right frequency.

“Ashley? Ashley, do you copy, over?” I tried a few times.

I finally heard something.

“Ashley, do you copy, I repeat, do you copy, over?”

“Hero” was all I heard at a low volume.

“Ashely, you punk, you need to say over when you’re done.”

“H…e..ro” I heard again.

“This damn thing,” I thought. Too lazy to go out, I took the batteries out, blew at them, as if that ever does anything, and put them back in.

“Ok, Catwoman hero, do you copy now, over?”

“ZERO”

I dropped the walkie-talkie.

That wasn’t Ashley’s voice. That wasn’t “Hero” I thought I heard.

Ashley.

I ran outside and immediately started ****ing hating myself for letting the child go out on its own. Ashley stood in the yard, holding a radio, squeezing it hard. In front of her stood that same woman, bent over and all the way down to my kid’s face.

“Zero, zero, zero, zero, zero” was what woman frantically repeated in Ashley’s traumatized face.

Yeah, when some freak harasses me, I can control myself. But a child, my cousin?

I lost it. I ran towards the woman and tackled her with enough force I was sure I’d hurt her. As soon as I hit the ground, I got up and grabbed Ashley. “Are you alright?” I yelled, “Did she touch you?!” I didn’t even realize how hard I was shaking her, probably scaring her even more.

Ashely was now crying so hard, she couldn’t even answer.

“Let’s go in,” I said as I turned towards the woman. She was still lying on the ground, facing down.

As soon as we got into the house, we went to the window. The woman started standing up. She turned towards us.

“I’m calling the police,” I told terrified Ashely as I picked up my cell. “Don’t worry baby, it’s going to be alright.”

The woman took a step towards the window. Then another one. Her nose was bleeding and she was visibly hurt as she was limping, but it didn’t seem to matter to her.

I’ll admit, I was nearly frozen from the rush of adrenaline I had. We just stood there at the window, watching this freak approaching us.

“Police are on the way,” I told my niece who was still crying.

The woman walked up to the window.

She… She wasn’t looking at me anymore. She leaned towards Ashley’s face. Poor little thing grabbed my hand and was squeezing it way too hard for a 7 year old. That ****ing thing, bitch, woman, whatever she was, leaned all the way to the window. Only a piece of glass was separating her from Ashley. As I was about to take my niece into another room, far from this thing, the woman opened her mouth, but immediately closed it into a smile. Then again. It was ****ing impossibly strange. As she’d open her mouth, her pupils would shoot up towards the back of her head, only to immediately come back followed with a smile. She was now alternating inhumanely fast in between a smile and a gaping mouth paired with nearly pupil-less eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” I told Ashley as I picked her up and took her to my room.

Police arrived about 15 minutes later. They started scanning the neighborhood and actually caught a woman who matched my description. I was due at the police station for identification, but first I had to drop Ashley off at the train station. Her mum wanted her back immediately after what happened, and I couldn’t blame her. I took her to the station, where I arranged for the staff to watch her until her destination.

A very pleasant conductor promised he’d watch her whole trip. He took Ashley’s hand and promised to show her all the cool parts of the train. Finally, the kid smiled.

As train was getting ready to leave, conductor put my niece on the stairs. “Say bye to your uncle,” he said, “we’re about to leave.”

“Bye Ashley, tell your mum to call me when you arrive, ok?”

She didn’t respond to me, which was understandable. The kid was probably still ****ing terrified, hell, I was still terrified.

As the announcer said all boarding was complete, conductor opened the door for them to get inside the train.

Ashley didn’t move, though. She looked up at the conductor.

“Let’s go now,” he said.

Ashley opened her mouth, looking up at the man.

“We have to get in now, we’re about to start moving honey,” he said again. “Let’s go.”

As he entered the train and Ashely followed, I heard her say “10 9 8.”

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I have to say this one hell of a story. Kept me gripped to the end. Reading the last line was like "Goddamn-Freaky-Shit-Hell-NO-I-Am-OUT-OF-HERE"

This story is wriiten by /u/innace of Reddit under the subreddit /r/nosleep

Head over to NoSleep if you want more!!