tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66057849036434417142024-03-27T04:19:25.878-05:00Global Urban LegendsSpooky stories, myths, and tales from around the world that inspire movies, television shows, and nightmares.TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-9050412771159073272020-06-26T11:59:00.001-05:002020-06-26T11:59:57.413-05:00Sports Illustrated Cover Jinx<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEiJMXYVBbsNcEXJTTKchk2XunibrLMIJ4lWsj83cjss2IFD7pguovbCFBWn6mKdEl-o2J0XGuYSjGOaMRI2cJrmVhiiDUIAlwkRBw8_6aENwHl1aeSk-ysnMNnSisGJ3ffocfEKGz3IcBc1UeyZZSwNHUvPOfSv6fF_8Src2-c5jiNQ3EMHpNZcjthz0sQ=s550" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="409" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEiJMXYVBbsNcEXJTTKchk2XunibrLMIJ4lWsj83cjss2IFD7pguovbCFBWn6mKdEl-o2J0XGuYSjGOaMRI2cJrmVhiiDUIAlwkRBw8_6aENwHl1aeSk-ysnMNnSisGJ3ffocfEKGz3IcBc1UeyZZSwNHUvPOfSv6fF_8Src2-c5jiNQ3EMHpNZcjthz0sQ=s320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>Like the <a href="https://globalurbanlegends.blogspot.com/2020/06/madden-curse.html" target="_blank">Madden Curse</a>, the Sports Illustrated Cover jinx is well known. Many fans have started to watch out for their favorite players/teams from any sport, fear plaguing their minds as to what misfortune awaits.</div><div><br /></div><div>It all started in 1954, when a picture of Eddie Mathews hitting a ball was featured. The Braves would go on to lose their game after that. And it's not always players and teams that are effected. If anyone if featured on the cover <i>associated</i> with sports in any way, they could become a victim as well. A notable example of this is John F. Kennedy.</div><div><br /></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div></div><div>Every year since 1954, nearly every person or team that appeared on the cover would have extraordinary bad luck. I say nearly because 16 people/teams appeared on the covers and did not have bad luck, but that is a small percentage compared to the number of people/teams effected by the jinx.</div><div><br /></div><div>So anyone featured on SI's cover, including the cat from their 2016 cover, should be wary. They could be targets of an unforgiving jinx that has cost victories, ruined streaks, caused injuries, ended careers, and taken lives.<br /></div>TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-85787603296264551812020-06-26T11:35:00.005-05:002020-06-26T12:02:43.160-05:00Madden Curse<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Madden Curse is famous. In fact, it is perhaps one of the more well known curses in the modern day. It is right up there with the <a href="https://globalurbanlegends.blogspot.com/2020/06/sports-illustrated-cover-jinx.html" target="_blank">Sports Illustrated Cover Jinx</a>.</div>
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This is, of course, referring to the Madden NFL games that get made every year. Since 1999, the game featured a well known player prominently on the cover rather than it's name sake, John Madden. This was against what the creators wanted, but it still happened. John was never effected, the curse only targeted those that took over his place as a prominent figure on the cover.</div>
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The first player to be featured on the cover was Garrison Hearst. He was breaking several records set to get into the Hall of Fame before he was honored with the cover. Then, he got the 49-ers to the playoffs. That is when it happened. He broke his ankle. Hearst was unable to play for two seasons after that, and his game was never the same. Thus, the curse claimed its first victim.</div>
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In 2000, Barry Sanders was supposed to be featured on the cover of the game, but retired before training. Many fans were upset by this. The game was re-released that year with Dorsey Levens on the cover. He had a Superbowl streak that sadly came to an end with the Green Bay Packers didn't make Playoffs and Levens injured his knee.</div>
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In '01, Eddie George was next. He had a great season, actually. However, during the Playoffs, he fumbled a pass, allowing the Titans to take the ball to the end zone for a touchdown and the win. The following season, he was badly injured and never the same player after that.</div>
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Daunte Culpepper was next, in '02. He was a fast rising star. However, after being shown on the cover of Madden, he was not the same. Culpepper had a 4-7 record that season, but the worse was yet to come. He suffered a season ending knee injury and early retirement from the game. Culpepper was the first player to be forced from the game due to the curse.</div>
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Marshall Faulk was after Culpepper. He suffered an ankle injury. He could still play, but it was not full time and he never rushed 1000 yards ever again. This would continue to be a set back until his retirement.</div>
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Next came Michael Vick, who missed 11 games due to a broken fibula. This was 2004, and people started to see the trend for the first time. He had two more seasons in him before he was caught for dog fighting, but has been doing well since then.</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Ray Lewis appeared on the '</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">05 cover. During that season, he broke his wrist and missed one game. The curse seemed upset that it hadn't done more, as the following season, Lewis injured his thigh and missed 10 games. Now, the curse was satisfied.</span></span></h1>
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Donovan McNabb was next. He suffered from a sports hernia. He was a five-time Pro-Bowler, but never went to the Pro-Bowl after he was featured on the cover. This lead to Shaun Alexander, who had season in '05 and '06, and was breaking records. However, in '07, he fractured his foot and was soon out of the league. Many fans believed that, if Alexander had never appeared on the cover, he would have had a great year again.</div>
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In 2008, LaDainian Tomlinson was supposed to grace the Madden cover, but fans petitioned the decision, fearing what would happen. So, they chose Vince Young, who was Offensive Rookie of the Year and had gone to Pro-Bowl his first season. However, the '08 season was a bad year for Young, who injured his quad and missed one game. On top of that, he was on suicide watch, quit his team, and none of the other Titans players respected him. He would later become a back-up player for the Eagles.</div>
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Brett Farve was the '09 cover feature. He was coming off of a feud with the Packers and now played for the NY Jets, though he had thought about retiring. He injured his bicep, but still played. This decision caused the Jets 4-out-of-5 games at the end of the season.</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Troy Polamalu and Larry Fitzgerald were both featured on the 2010 cover. Polamalu, </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">defensive stalwart for the Steelers, only played five games and had to quit due to <i>numerous</i> knee injuries. Fitzgerald, a </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">wide receiver, had a normal season and even went to the Pro-Bowl. That is when the curse hit, injuring a rib and keeping him from the post season.</span></span></h1>
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Drew Brees was the '11 cover player. He said that it was an honor and that the curse didn't exist. Well, it didn't injure Brees who played for the New Orleans Saints. The Seattle Seahawks had a losing season, but still managed to earn a Wildcard spot for playoffs, the first team to do so. Brees threw for more than 4,000 yards, led his Saints into the playoffs, where they faced the underdog Seahawks. Rather than injure his body, the curse struck at Brees' pride. The Saints, who were favorites to win, lost to the Seahawks.</div>
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Peyton Hillis was next. He had suffered from several things from strep throat to injured hamstring. He missed 10 games that season, and was not signed back to the Cleveland Browns. He became a free agent.</div>
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In 2013, Calvin Johnson was the first the be spared from the curse. He broke several records while playing for the Lions, and so much more. Many called Johnson the "Curse-Buster". However, this break was short lived, as Adrian Peterson was next to be hit by the curse. He did well in his first game, but Peterson had a nagging foot injury that saw the Viking’s record dropped back down to 5-10-1. This same injury took him out of the season December of that year.</div>
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2015 saw Richard Sherman on the cover. He was also not effected by the curse, at least, not during the season. Sherman took the Seahawks to their second consecutive Superbowl, but he almost didn't make the following season due to a torn ligament in his left elbow. Rather than get surgery, Sherman chose to heal naturally, which may have been what saved his career and making him a curse survivor.</div>
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Odell Beckham, Jr. managed to evade the curse as well, playing an amazing season in 2016, despite some on field disputes that resulted in the Giants’ receiver being suspended a game, but it did not effect his game, though it may have effected the team dynamic that season.</div>
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2017 was when Rob Gronkowski colored the cover of Madden. He was missing the first two games of the season, was a rare show in weeks 3 and 4, and really started playing week 5. He sat out week 11 when going up against the Seahawks, and was forced to leave the week 12 game against the Jets. He was a bench-warmer after that and watched the NE Patriots win the Superbowl without him.</div>
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Tom Brady was next. He avoided injury and statistic wavering all season. However, the Eagles won over the Patriots, causing many fans disappointment after the stellar season. Many say that the curse didn't get Brady, others would argue that losing the Superbowl that year was the curse getting him. Now two people can agree.</div>
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In 2019, Antonio Brown stepped up. Statistically, Brown had an excellent season. Off-season? Well, his time with the Steelers was over, and he requested to be traded, landing himself on the Raiders team. Brown underwent a Whole Body Cryotherapy treatment, leaving his feet frostbitten. Many saw the tie-in with the new format of the game, as it was made with the Frostbite engine. However, it was his helmet that almost did him in. He had worn the same helmet since his time as a rookie, and it was no longer safe for players to use. Brown was upset and got into a dispute over it, even threatening the retire. The only reason for him needing to go to a newer model of helmet is that the one he was using was too old, which could be a problem if not dealt with properly. He was given a one-year waiver for the helmet, but was forced to find a new one. He did not retire, but he also didn't warm up to his new helmet either.</div>
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Patrick Mahomes II was the 2020 player on the cover. He did contract a knee injury early in the season and was almost pulled from the game. However, the injury was not as bad as at first thought and Mahomes was allowed to play in later games. He even managed to take the Chiefs to the Superbowl and win it. This would be the first time in 50 years that such an event occurred. Many believe that Mahomes has beaten the curse, but this isn't the first time that someone dodged the curse during the playing season.</div>
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Lamar Jackson of the Baltimore Ravens is set to appear on the Madden NFL 21 cover. The question is, will he be the next to victim of the Madden Curse, or are the fans right and Mahomes has broken the curse once and for all?</div>
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TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-1136462982133994982017-08-30T11:45:00.001-05:002017-08-30T11:45:21.876-05:00Runaway Bride<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Some years ago, a young man and his new bride went to Paris for their honeymoon. While the happy couple were wandering around the city, taking in the sights, the decide to go shopping. The wife goes to a trendy clothing shop and tries on several dresses while her husband waits outside the dressing room. Some time passes and his wife doesn't return. The husband starts to wonder why his wife is taking so long.<br />
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He asks a female assistant at the shop to go check on his wife and tell her to hurry up. The assistant returns and said his wife isn't in the dressing room. He is confused and goes to look for himself. The dressing room was completely empty. They do a search of the entire store, but his wife is nowhere to be found.<br />
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The husband thought his wife was playing a practical joke on him and went back to the hotel room to wait for her, but she never showed up. As the hours passed, the husband becomes more and more worried. By morning, she had yet to return to their room, so he called the police.<br />
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Within 48 hours, the Parisian authorities were looking for the missing American bride. They put her description over the radio stations and TV news channels. They described her as a tall American woman, 24 years of age, with a birthmark on her left cheek. It seemed everyone in Paris was on the look out for the missing woman, but no one had seen her. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.<br />
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The police did all that they could, but after three week, they called the search off. The husband began to think his wife had second thoughts about their marriage, and must have simply ran off and left him. Six months after she disappeared, he finally left Paris and returned home, depressed and exhausted.<br />
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As the months turned to years, the man gave up on finding his beautiful wife. His life had fallen apart. His grief was so strong, he was unable to hold a job or go on with his life. He became a drifter, wandering aimlessly from place to place, country to country, letting fate take him where it may.<br />
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Two years later, he found himself at a carnival in the Philippines. He stopped in front of a shabby old tent that was home to a freak show. The sign above the entrance read "The House of Oddities". Out of curiosity, he went inside and was disgusted by what he saw within.<br />
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Crouched in cages, he saw a collection of hideously deformed freaks. the bizarre denizens were terrifying examplse of human misery. In the last filthy cage, he was horrified to see the featured attraction. A twisted, scarred and mutilated woman, rocking back and forth and groaning strange animal-like noises.<br />
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The sign on her cage read "The Worm Woman". She had no arms or legs. They had been hacked off and just her torso remained. Her face was covered in jagged scars from horrible operations and her mouth was sewn shut. As she turned to look at him, the husband screamed.<br />
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He recognized the birthmark on his wife's face.<br />
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TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-59341788497755558162017-08-30T11:19:00.001-05:002017-08-30T11:19:41.908-05:00Jorōgumo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Jorōgumo (女郎蜘蛛 "woman-spider") was able to shape-shift into the image of a beautiful woman, and is sometimes depicted manipulating small fire-breathing spiders. She seduces men, wraps thin in her web, poisons them, then eats them. In some myths of the spider-woman, she appears to holding a baby. When a man passes by, she will ask them to hold it. However, the men are shocked to see that the "baby" is thousands of spider eggs that burst open to devour them.<br />
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Jorōgumo is said to born when a spider, most commonly a species of orb-spiders (known for their circular webs), lives to be 400 years old. On it's 400th birthday, the spider gains strange powers, learns how to play music to lure its prey to it, and becomes as big as a cow.<br />
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She mostly lives near waterfalls, but not all the time. She is often seen as malevolent, but in Kashikobuchi, in Japan, she is worshiped as a protective spirit that will save you from drowning.<br />
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The Jōren Falls of Izu Story</h2>
In the Edo period of Japan, there was a logger who was working hard. He became tired and decided to take a short break. He hears a waterfall nearby, and decides to sit by the stream and watch the waterfall where he would have his lunch.<br />
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No sooner had he got himself settled and was about to eat, he felt something stick attach itself to his foot. He pulls the substance off and looks at it, noting that it looks very much like spider silk. He sticks it on a nearby log. Soon after, he watches the log fly across the stream bank and disappear behind the waterfall. Realizing that the log was almost him, the woodcutter decided that it would be best to quickly leave. No one from the village ever went to the falls again.<br />
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One day, a visiting woodcutter, who knew nothing of the incident, tried
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Ending 1</h3>
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At the bottom, he met a beautiful woman, who returned his axe to him. She told him to never speak of what he saw there. At first, he kept the story, but the urge to tell it grew stronger. One night, at a banquet, he became drunk and told the story. He felt a huge weight lift off of him, and he went home to go to sleep. He never woke up.</div>
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Some say that the woodcutter was actually pulled outside by an invisible string and his corps was found floating by the falls the next day.</div>
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Ending 2</h3>
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At the bottom, the woodcutter saw a beautiful woman, who returned his axe to him. He instantly fell in love with the woman, and would visit her by the waterfall everyday. However, he physically grew weaker each time. The Buddhist priest (or Oshō) of a nearby temple believe that the woodcutter was "taken in by Jorōgumo mistress of the waterfall", and went with the woodcutter on his next visit to chant a sutra. When a thread of spider silk reached out to the woodcutter, the Oshō let out a thunderous yell, and the thread disappeared. Despite learning that his beloved was a Jorōgumo, the woodcutter still wanted to marry her and tried to gain permission for the marriage from the mountain's tengu (guardian spirit). However, the tengu denied him, which upset the woodcutter. He ran to the waterfall, where he was entangled in a spider web and disappeared into the water.</div>
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Kashikobuchi Story</h2>
*NOTE* This story is very similar to the above story, except that it is also an origin story of how Kashikobuchi, Sendai got it's name. Kashikobuchi means "clever abyss".<br />
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In the Edo period of Japan, there was a logger who was working hard.
He became tired and decided to take a short break. He hears a waterfall
nearby, and decides to sit by the stream and watch the waterfall where
he would have his lunch.<br />
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No sooner had he got himself
settled and was about to eat, he felt something stick attach itself to
his foot. He pulls the substance off and looks at it, noting that it
looks very much like spider silk. He sticks it on a nearby log. Soon
after, he watches the log fly across the stream bank and disappear
behind the waterfall. A woman's voice could be heard from behind the falls saying "Kashikoi, kashikoi" ("clever, clever"). Realizing that the log was almost him, the
woodcutter was thankful that this goddess saved him and the people of the village put monuments up in honor of the spider goddess that saved the woodcutter.<br />
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Later on, an eel that lived in the abyss visited a man named Genbe. It shifted into the form of a beautiful woman. The eel woman said that Jorōgumo of the Abyss was going to attack her the next day. The eel woman claimed that she didn't have enough power to defeat the spider goddess, so the eel woman needed Genbe's help. Genbe promised to help her, but his courage failed him. The next day, he locked himself in his house and refused to leave. The eel woman lost her battle with Jorōgumo, and Genbe died insane.<br />
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
Pop-Culture</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/4/42029/2210806-xxxholickei4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/4/42029/2210806-xxxholickei4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jorōgumo form <i>xxxHolic</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Today, you can find Jorōgumo in many different places from stories to video games to anime. one such appearance was from the anime and manga series, <i>xxxHolic</i>, were she performs some gruesome acts through out the series.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfziTEnL2u-yVxY21R1pyAtpkJRIkGLVhY6mtxKHtOwJT1aVDHlPd0CjGedTjlD0IizKHRogtTlB-UcQWVO4pcFFWL3O3O2JilK2SPJDxuSh7MM4fff_8f76jemStwoLqdhynMCX_-kdI/s1600/jorogumo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="592" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfziTEnL2u-yVxY21R1pyAtpkJRIkGLVhY6mtxKHtOwJT1aVDHlPd0CjGedTjlD0IizKHRogtTlB-UcQWVO4pcFFWL3O3O2JilK2SPJDxuSh7MM4fff_8f76jemStwoLqdhynMCX_-kdI/s320/jorogumo.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jorōgumo from <i>Escape the Night</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In a more recent rendition of this spider goddess type being, the YouTube Red Original Series, <i>Escape the Night</i>, featured Jorōgumo as one of the Sorceress' Lieutenants. SPOILER ALERT! <span style="background-color: black;">She said she would take one female life for the lives of two men, but it was a trick and the two women that were voted to go to Jor</span><span style="background-color: black;">ōgumo's web were actually competing to save one of the men. She killed the guest that was not saved.</span> The episode was the third episode of season two of the series and it aired on June 28, 2017.</div>
</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-26759619071977108732017-08-28T10:47:00.001-05:002017-08-28T10:47:21.407-05:00Charlie Noonan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.scaryforkids.com/pics/charlie-noonan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.scaryforkids.com/pics/charlie-noonan.jpg" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This story — and the nightmarish photo that accompanies it — involves
a man by the name of Charlie Noonan. He was known to have spent much of
his life traveling throughout the southern US, documenting regional
folklore, tall tales, legends and accounts of the supernatural.<br />
<br />
Chalie’s
wife Ellie has recounted the story of her husband’s disappearance
following his visit to Oklahoma, where he’d heard tales of a mysterious
old woman living on a remote farm in the state’s northwestern panhandle.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Charlie interviewed a farmer in the area, who told him how the
woman’s identity was a complete mystery, her face hidden behind a thick
headscarf. She was always accompanied by a ferocious dog, and anyone who
saw them was immediately overcome by an unexplained feeling of dread.
The farmer also told him the general vicinity in which the woman was
believed to reside.<br />
<br />
<div class="ad__inline ad__inline__shown" id="ad__inline__midrec_300x250_bottom">
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<div class="ad__inline__info">
<div class="ad__inline__p">
</div>
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Charlie confided to Ellie that he intended to search for the woman himself… and that’s the last anyone ever heard from him.Years later, Ellie was contacted by a pawnbroker in Tulsa, OK, who
told her he had a camera in his shop with her husband’s name engraved on
it, which he had purchased from an odd-looking drifter. Ellie claimed
the camera, which still contained a roll of undeveloped film. When she
had the roll processed, she discovered only one image exposed on it…
this one:<br />
<br />
Although Charlie kept detailed journals and notes, Ellie could find
no reference to the location where this photo was taken, and for some
reason her husband did not write down the name of the farmer who told
him where to find her.<br />
<br />
*NOTE: While the true origins of this tale could not be verified, the photograph itself was traced to an anonymous author on Reddit’s <strong>/x/</strong> board, and later documented on the Creepypasta Wiki.
The author posted it along with 13 other photos — all of
which allegedly belonged to an elderly collector of similarly
unexplained vintage images, who intended one day to publish them in a
book. That project apparently never came to pass, and the collector’s
identity remains a mystery as well. There has never been a folklorist by the name of Charlie Noonan, only a creepy photo that someone made up a story about.*</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-21729393837921989662017-08-27T22:38:00.000-05:002017-08-27T22:38:15.518-05:00The House of Mirrors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKmvO8bDKciZX15U1YSzb48dpMFFOAQjgqA4g0zbgLwiieAVnZULFEUMddTFYHbk0oHNdQuvv9TJ5o0MG1o9PKdTnPhj-QoIS15ZC5pfeVZjHNqxZjIpqn2V_UYGA0rY0gfcRlNxqE0w/s1600/house+of+mirror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="230" data-original-width="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKmvO8bDKciZX15U1YSzb48dpMFFOAQjgqA4g0zbgLwiieAVnZULFEUMddTFYHbk0oHNdQuvv9TJ5o0MG1o9PKdTnPhj-QoIS15ZC5pfeVZjHNqxZjIpqn2V_UYGA0rY0gfcRlNxqE0w/s1600/house+of+mirror.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
There is a house in the old part of the Spanish city of Cadiz in Mexico. The house is known as "La Casa de los Espejos" or "The House of Mirrors". It is an imposing, yet elegant, three-story house the architecture that evokes it's Spanish past. However, the innocent facade fools no one in Cadiz, because everyone believes in ghosts and knows the old home's history. They steer well clear of it at night.<br />
<br />
The legend goes that, years ago, an important Admiral of the Spanish Navy lived in the house with his wife and young daughter. The Admiral's job meant that he was often gone for long periods of time, traveling from port to port. He visited many different and exotic foreign countries because of these business trips<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
The people of Cadiz say that the Admiral love and cherished his beautiful daughter more than life itself. When he left, his daughter would wave goodbye with tears rolling down her cheeks. She would miss him more than anything else in the world. It also happened that the daughter collected mirrors. So, as a token of his affection, the Admiral would bring home a mirror for her after his many trips.<br />
<br />
As the years passed, the house was filled with many ornate and exquisite mirrors. His daughter enjoyed looking at herself in her mirrors as she walked around her home. The Admiral often boasted to anyone who would listen to him that his daughter was the most beautiful girl in Cadiz.<br />
<br />
However, his wife had grown old and lost her looks. She hated the mirrors and became jealous of her lovely daughter. Soon, the Admiral's wife became depressed and a resentment towards her daughter grew in intensity with each passing day. When the Admiral went on his trips, she and her daughter would fight, growing more and more frequent the more jobs he took.<br />
<br />
The mother-daughter relationship was completely destroyed by the mother's secret hatred of her daughter. She convinced herself that the Admiral loved his daughter more than his wife. So, her thoughts grew dark and vengeful.<br />
<br />
While the Admiral was away on his last trip, his wife saw an opportunity and put in motion a dark plan. She gave her daughter a poisoned drink, and the poor girl drank it. The daughter suffered for days, bleeding from her eyes and mouth before finally dying. The Admiral's wife was so sure that she and her husband could rekindle their love with her daughter gone.<br />
<br />
The Admiral returned a week later. He was greeted by his wife at the front door, who calmly informed him that their daughter had contracted a horrible disease and died while he was away. Upon hearing the terrible new, the Admiral burst into tears. He was completely devastated and spent the next few days just sitting in his daughter's room, weeping bitterly.<br />
<br />
Late one night, as the Admiral was wiping tears from his eyes, he looked into one of the mirrors. What he saw made him tremble with fear. There, in the mirror, was the ghost of his beloved daughter. As he watched, he saw that final scene of her life. His daughter was sending him a message from beyond the grave.<br />
<br />
In the mirror, he saw his wife poisoning a drink and giving it to their daughter. He watched his daughter, blood pouring from her eyes and mouth, scream in pain. Beside the bed, his wife gloated silently. The sight of his child thrashing about in agony before succumbing to the deadly poison was more than the man could handle.<br />
<br />
Filled with shock and anger at discovering the truth, the Admiral ran downstairs and grabbed his wife by the arms. He forced a confession from her, then took her to the local police station to turn her in. His wife was put on trial, found guilty of murdering her own daughter, and sentenced to spend the rest of her days alone in a filthy prison cell.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, the Admiral was unable to recover from the incident. He could not live in the house where his child had been murdered and all the mirrors reminded him of her beauty. He never got over the loss of his daughter. The Admiral left Cadiz and moved far away to try and forget his past. The house lay abandoned for decades, the walls still covered in mirrors.<br />
<br />
People who lived nearby claimed that they could hear screams echoing from the building at night. They said that is sounded like a young girl crying out in pain.<br />
<br />
A few brave souls ventured into the house to see what or who was making the strange sounds. The noises seemed to come from the top floor. They heard the pitiful weeping and wailing of a child destroying the silence of the night. What was even stranger was that the sound seemed to bounce off the mirrors, almost like it was coming from the mirrors themselves.<br />
<br />
One clumsy individual accidentally broke one of the mirrors They say that he picked up a piece of the glass, but he did not see his own face reflected back Instead, he was horrified to see the face of a dead girl looking back at him. She looked angry, and it sent a chill down his spine, The image made him run from the house, screaming.<br />
<br />
Others who visited the house claimed that they would catch a glimpse of a girl watching them from inside the mirrors out of the corner of their eyes. Upon seeing her, some would flee in terror, counting themselves lucky to have escaped with their lives.<br />
<br />
As the years passed, the history of the House of Mirrors and what occurred within its walls began to spread from Cadiz to the rest of Mexico. The legend became so famous that many teens would travel long distances to explore the old, dilapidated building at night. Most wanted to show they weren't afraid, others wanted to see if they could catch just a glimpse of the murdered girl.<br />
<br />
Some years ago, a few young people started organizing trips to the old house. They would hold a contest to see who could stay the longest inside the haunted mansion. They say that once you spend a few minutes inside the House of Mirrors, you won't dare enter a second time...<br />
</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-86629314025459813992017-08-25T18:05:00.000-05:002017-08-25T18:09:00.966-05:00Langsuir<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://orig15.deviantart.net/f69e/f/2009/250/7/f/langsuyar_by_t3h_hugging_monster.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="534" height="320" src="https://orig15.deviantart.net/f69e/f/2009/250/7/f/langsuyar_by_t3h_hugging_monster.png" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">by <a href="https://t3h-hugging-monster.deviantart.com/" target="_blank">T3h-Hugging-Monster</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
The Langsuir is the ghost of a woman who died while giving birth to a stillborn child. She is similar to the <a href="http://globalurbanlegends.blogspot.com/2017/08/pontianak.html" target="_blank">Pontianak</a>, but there are some differences. She appears as a hideous woman with glowing red eeyes, a rotting green face and long sharp nails. She has long black hair that hangs down to her ankles and is usually wearing a green or white dress.<br />
<br />
The Langsuir is jealous of pregnant women, so she attacks them and tries to kill them or cause their babies to also be stillborn like her child. She has a hole in the back of her neck through which she can suck the blood of her victims. She can also possess her victims and suck the blood out of them from the inside.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
The Langsuir lives near the coast and when she can't find human victims, she drinks the blooe of fish to sustain her.<br />
<br />
There is a way to prevent a pregnant woman who has died from becoming a Langsuir, place needles in both of her hands, glass beads in her mouth, and an egg under each armpit. It is possible to tame a Langsuir. All you have to do is cut off her long nails and stuff her long hair into the hole in her neck.<br />
<br />
P.S.<br />
<br />
This is the 100th post! Congratulations! </div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-83629249456597770492017-08-25T18:03:00.000-05:002017-08-25T18:03:23.189-05:00Pontianak<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://encyclopediasatanica.files.wordpress.com/2013/10/pontianak-harum-sundal-malam-pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="425" height="320" src="https://encyclopediasatanica.files.wordpress.com/2013/10/pontianak-harum-sundal-malam-pic.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
The Pontianak is a ghost of a woman that died while she was pregnant. She appears ugly with pale skin, long black hair, sharp nails, and a white dress. She makes the sound of a crying baby at night to lure prey to her. If the crying is loud, she is far away, but if it is soft, she is close.<br />
<br />
During the day, the Pontianak hides in banyan and banana trees. However, at night, she searches for human prey. She disguises herself as a beautiful woman that is walking alone at night to attract men to her.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
She will suddenly change to her true form, plunge her sharp fingernails into the man's stomach, rip out his internal organs, and devour them whole. Sometimes, she will even suck their eyes out of their heads.<br />
<br />
The only way to stop a Pontianak is to hammer a nail into the hole in the back of her neck. This will changer her into a beautiful woman and she will be a good wife. However, should the nail ever be removed, she will become a Pontianak once more.</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-66252857916735196832016-07-06T09:32:00.000-05:002016-07-17T15:02:42.110-05:00Bad Neighbor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://askanewyorker.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/Bad-Neighbor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://askanewyorker.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/Bad-Neighbor.jpg" height="181" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
One calm, cool day in the middle of Autumn, a woman got up early to
cook breakfast for her husband and two sons. After they had eaten, the
father announced that he was taking his eldest son hiking in the woods
behind their house. They also planned to do some fishing in the river
that flowed through the heart of the dense forest.<br />
<br />
The youngest
boy wanted to go too, but his father said he was still too young to
accompany them . Instead, he told him he would have to stay behind and
help his mother in the kitchen. The boy was very disappointed but he
obeyed his father and did not complain.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
The young boy stood with
his mother at the back door as they watched the father and eldest son
set off on their trip, carrying their fishing gear on their shoulders.
They walked down the garden path and disappeared into the trees.<br />
<br />
Later that day, the wife asked her youngest son to help her prepare the
dinner. She told him she wanted to have a hearty meal prepared for the
others because they would be hungry when they came back.<br />
When the
dinner was finally cooked, she sent her son upstairs to wash his hands
and waited for the rest of her family to arrive.<br />
<br />
After a while,
she began to become worried. Her husband and son had still not returned
and it was getting late. She hadn’t heard so much as a word from them
since they left that morning. The dinner was getting cold and they
should have been home hours ago.<br />
<br />
After waiting for another hour,
the woman decided to go out and look for them. She went next door and
asked her neighbor to take care of the house while she was gone and look
after her youngest son. She didn't know him that well, as he just moved
in a month ago, but she was friendly enough with him to ask in this
situation.<br />
<br />
The man who lived next door smiled and told her that
he would be happy to help her out. Then, the mother took a flashlight
with her and set out in search of her missing family members. The
neighbor and the youngest son stood at the back door, watching as the
mother walked down the garden path and disappeared into the woods.<br />
<br />
By now, it was almost nighttime and the forest was completely dark. She
trudged through the undergrowth and the densely-packed trees, calling
out their names, but there was no reply. She shone her flashlight this
way and that, but could find no trace of them.<br />
<br />
After some time,
she came to the river and was surprised to find her husband’s fishing
gear lying unattended on the bank. The fishing rod was propped up on
sticks and the line was trailing in the water. It was as if her husband
and eldest son had suddenly disappeared and left everything behind.<br />
The woman picked up the fishing rod and began reeling it in. It was
hard work because there was something heavy on the other end of the
line. After struggling for a while, she finally managed to land whatever
had been hooked on the line. In complete darkness, she pulled it onto
the bank, then picked up her flashlight to see what it was.<br />
<br />
When
the woman switched on the flashlight, she was horrified by what she saw
in the beam. There, lying on the bank of the river were the bodies of
her husband and her eldest son. They had been tied together and the
heavy duty hook was stuck in her husband’s mouth.<br />
<br />
Both of their
faces were bloody and bruised. It was obvious that they had been
murdered. Their bodies had been sliced open with a knife and they had
been gutted like fish. It was a horrible sight and the woman almost
collapsed from the shock.<br />
<br />
Frightened out of her wits, the poor
mother realized that whoever had killed her husband and son was probably
still on the loose in the woods. She ran frantically through the
forest, crashing through the trees and branches, not daring to stop for a
second, until she reached the safety of her house.<br />
As she ran up
the garden path, she saw her youngest son peering out of the upstairs
window. He stared at her, his eyes wide open and his face pale and
frightened.<br />
<br />
She pounded on the back door with her fists and
eventually, her neighbor opened it and greeted her with surprise. The
woman rushed into the kitchen and fell to her knees, exhausted. Trying
to catch her breath, she told her neighbor how she had discovered the
dead bodies of her husband and eldest son in the woods. Tears were
streaming down her face and she was hysterical.<br />
<br />
The neighbor
tried to calm her down and then told her he was going next door to call
the police. When the neighbor left, the woman composed herself, then
went upstairs to break the tragic news to her youngest son. She was
dreading the thought of telling him that his father and brother were
dead.<br />
When the woman opened her son’s bedroom door, she screamed in horror at the terrible scene she found.<br />
<br />
There, on the bed, surrounded by a pool of blood, lay her son’s
decapitated body. There was a blood-stained knife on the pillow. His
severed head sat on the windowsill, staring out the window with
sightless eyes.<br />
<br />
The devastated woman called the police, but when
they arrived, they found that the house next door was deserted and the
neighbor was already gone. For days, they searched the woods but they
never found any trace of him.</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-50922962755212548872016-07-05T21:02:00.000-05:002016-07-17T15:02:06.881-05:00The Curse of Colonel Buck<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://static.bangordailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/10031461_H16155621-600x396.jpg?strip=all" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.bangordailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/10031461_H16155621-600x396.jpg?strip=all" height="211" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Colonel Buck was not what you'd call the most virtuous man in
town. He had an eye for the ladies and he
would chase them until he got what he wanted. Then he would drop them
like a hot brick.<br />
<br />
Well, Colonel
Buck had a pretty maid working for him. It wasn't long before he
started noticing her and she, poor girl, started looking back. One thing
led to another and one day, Colonel Buck turned out his
pretty maid, seeing as she was unmarried and in the family way.<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Well now, that pretty girl had a deformed baby boy, and she had a hard
time making ends meet with a growing son. She began putting pressure on Colonel Buck to take responsibility for the boy. Well, Colonel Buck
wasn't having none of that. He began putting it about town that this girl was really a witch. The rumor spread and spread. The townsfolk
became scared of the maid. One day, they grabbed the woman and brought
her before Colonel Buck. He condemned her to death for sorcery, and had
her burned at the stake. The woman shouted a curse at the Colonel as
she burned, swearing that he would always bear the mark of this
injustice.<br />
<br />
Her poor young son was forced to watch his mother
being burned as a witch. When one of his mother's legs fell from her
burning body, he broke away from the crowd, ran forward to pick up the
leg, and fled. It was the only piece of his mother he had left to bury.<br />
<br />
After Colonel Buck's death, a grand tombstone was erected in his honor.
A few weeks later, a strange discoloration began to form on the stone.
It was the picture of a woman's leg. The reminder of the woman and her
curse embarrassed the people of Bucksport. They had the stone thrown out
to sea, but the stone was washed ashore, the image of the leg still
branded upon it.<br />
<br />
The town leaders had the stone smashed to bits
and they put a new tombstone on Colonel Buck's grave, but the image of
the leg reappeared on the new stone, and could not be removed. It
remains there to this day; a reminder of a poor girl who was robbed of
her innocence and later her life by Colonel Buck.</div>
</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-86984424963028675232016-07-01T11:31:00.002-05:002016-07-17T14:56:44.614-05:00Killer Cop<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://f.tqn.com/y/urbanlegends/1/W/f/c/1/killer-in-the-window.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://f.tqn.com/y/urbanlegends/1/W/f/c/1/killer-in-the-window.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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One night, a woman hears a knock on her front door. She is worried as she wasn't expecting company. When she answers her door, she is greeted by a police officer, which she is relieved.<br />
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That is, until she hears him say that a murderer is in the area. The officer asks to enter the house to discuss the matter in further detail. Naturally, the woman wants to know more about the threat in her quiet neighborhood.<br />
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Upon entering the house, the officer shuts the door and locks it. He begins laugh, much to the woman's confusion. She asks why he is laugh and he reveals that he is, in fact, the killer. The woman tries to get away, but the man stabs her and slits her throat.<br />
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This urban legend is actually based on real events that inspire a real fear. Some people have actually been murdered in this way. However, the person who made this fear famous was Ted Bundy. He would lure women and young ladies to him by either fawning injury or by dressing as an authoritative figure, such as a police officer. The fear of police officers is call Policophobia.<b class="b"></b><br />
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TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-88444322536969611162016-05-05T14:01:00.002-05:002017-08-25T18:46:25.681-05:00The Lost iPhone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://cdn2.gsmarena.com/vv/bigpic/apple-iphone-4s-new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn2.gsmarena.com/vv/bigpic/apple-iphone-4s-new.jpg" /></a></div>
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I found this article on this creepy phone filled with horrific photos. This is an article by <a class="writer-profile-permalink" href="http://thoughtcatalog.com/rona-vaselaar/">Rona Vaselaar</a> and it was so creepy that I just had to share it. It is best to keep in mind that this isn't a true story and is for entertainment purposes only <a href="http://www.thoughtcatalog.com/" target="_blank">ThoughtCatalog.com</a>, and it is not an actual Urban Legend. However, it will make you think twice about what is truly hidden inside a lost phone and the impact it may have on you. Enjoy.<br />
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<br />
It was sitting beside the curb outside my apartment. A white iPhone 4S in
surprisingly good condition. I scooped it up from the ground to get a closer
look. It probably belonged to a high school girl, judging by the horrendously
glittering purple case. I admired the phone anyway – tacky though the case was,
it had protected its charge fairly well. The phone had not only survived what I
assumed was a fall from a careless girl’s book bag, but it was in pristine condition.
No hairline cracks, no dings, no dents… nothing.<br />
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>As I marched into my apartment, throwing my bag on the floor and shedding my
coat and shoes, I continued inspecting the phone. Whoever lost it must surely
be missing it. I pressed the home button and the screen lit up. A swipe right
and I discovered that the phone was not, in fact, locked. Thank goodness for
stupid teenage girls (ignoring, for the moment, that I used to be exactly one
of those). I searched the contacts, found one labeled “Mom” and pressed the
call button.<br />
Nothing.<br />
It was as though the touch screen hadn’t registered my fingertips. Puzzled,
I pressed “call” again. And again. Nothing.<br />
It was at that moment that I got a call on my own cell phone, a black iPhone
6. I swiped to answer and the voice of my best friend reached my ears.<br />
“Hey, Amanda! How was your test today?”<br />
The phone momentarily forgotten, I fell into a deep conversation with Anna
about the absolute chaos that is university life. We chatted for a bit about
whatever things 20-something year-old girls talk about before she got to the
point.<br />
“You busy tonight? There’s a cool club that opened up not too long ago
downtown and a few of my friends wanna go. You should come with!”<br />
I glanced around at the comfort of my apartment. I was a pretty quiet person
who preferred to sit inside and read a good book, as opposed to my outgoing
Anna who was always getting into heaps of trouble. It’s always the story, isn’t
it? Opposites attract. As much as I wanted to stay in tonight, I smiled and agreed,
much to Anna’s squealing delight. How can I deny a request from my best friend?<br />
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
We set up plans and I hung up the phone. Then I remembered the other phone
sitting on my couch, dejected. I picked it up and opened it to the owner’s
mother’s contact information. That’s right! I punched the number into my own
phone and hit “call.” I could at least call this way.</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
The phone rang for a few moments. I was about to
leave a message when an exhausted voice came over the speakers.</div>
“Yeah?”<br />
I tried not to be put off by this rude response.<br />
“Hi, um, my name is Amanda and I found this phone outside my apartment… I
think it belongs to your daughter. Is there any way I could get it to her?”<br />
The line was quiet for a moment, aside from some labored breathing. Then:
“Do you think this shit is funny? Quit it with these stupid fucking pranks.”<br />
I remained speechless for a few moments after she’d hung up on me. What the
hell was her problem? Thoroughly confused, I rechecked the number. No, I had
dialed the right number… well, whatever, I shrugged. I couldn’t make sense of
it, but it wasn’t really my problem, either. Sooner or later someone was bound
to call her and then I’d pick up and explain the situation to them. It would
get resolved somehow.<br />
I still had a few hours until I had to be at the club to meet Anna, so I
settled down with <i>The Good Earth</i> and a bag of chips.<br />
Just as I was getting deeply embedded into the story, a loud beeping
startled me.<br />
<i>BEEP BEEP BEEP.</i><br />
I looked around wildly, my eyes colliding with the lit screen of the white
iPhone. Oh, that must be her ringtone. I looked at the Caller ID. “Restricted.”<br />
I picked it up.<br />
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
“Hello?”</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
Static.</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
“Hello…?”</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
The static was intense and only getting louder. I
tried calling out a few more times, but no response. I was just starting to
move the phone away from my ears due to the loudness of the static when – <i>click</i>.</div>
Call Ended.<br />
Huh. Must have been a mistake. Stupid phone, I was getting nowhere with
this.<br />
I went back to my book and spent a few peaceful hours reading. An hour
before our meeting time, I grudgingly pulled a glitzy shirt on over my head –
one that I had borrowed from Anna, of course – and paired it with some black
booty shorts. I put on flats (no way was I wasting a night in high heels) and
applied cherry red lipstick. I figured I had prepared as much as I wanted and
was just about to head out the door when the phone rang again.<br />
<i>BEEP BEEP BEEP.</i><br />
I grabbed the phone off the couch and stared at it. Restricted. What the
fuck? I rolled my eyes and answered it one more time, just on the off-chance
that someone was there.<br />
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
“Hello?”</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
Nothing this time, absolutely no sound. It sounded
like the line was dead. Seriously, what was the problem with this damn thing?
Maybe I should just take it to the police station in the morning, let the cops
deal with it…</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
<i>“Can you hear me?”</i></div>
I let out a little yelp. The woman’s voice had come in, loud and clear,
patient and toneless. But it sounded… off. There was no other noise on the
phone. I put the receiver next to my ear again, cautiously this time.<br />
“Hello? Hey, do you know whose phone this is? I found it sitting outside and
– “<br />
Click.<br />
Call ended.<br />
By this point I was getting pissed. Was someone playing a fucking game with
me? I tossed the phone back on the couch. Enough of this, I would deal with it
when I got home. Or maybe I’d let Anna deal with it. She was better at this
kind of stuff than I was.<br />
With that thought in my head, I headed out the door and into the night.<br />
<span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><img alt="beetlejuice" height="4" src="file:///C:/Users/EJWAKE~1/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image001.jpg" width="500" /></span><br />
The club was pretty fun. It turned out that Anna’s friends all happened to
be guys, with one in the mix who was <i>exactly</i> my type: tall, with dark
hair, forceful and confident, and a little controlling. I know, I know, I’m
asking for trouble. But a little trouble is good once in a while. Plus, he and
I hit it off right away. He sealed the deal when he took my phone, found my
number and plugged it into his phone.<br />
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
“I’m taking you out on Saturday. You better be ready at 8!”</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
I felt a thrill up my spine. <i>Oh, hell yes</i>,
I would be.</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
I crashed at Anna’s place. We spent the rest of the
night watching shitty horror movies that we’d already seen a million times and
making brownies. Well, actually, just the brownie batter, which we then ate
raw. We passed out around 4AM and I went home around noon the next day – thank
goodness I didn’t have any Friday classes.</div>
It wasn’t until after I’d already showered and made myself some breakfast
that I caught sight of the phone once again. I don’t know why, but just looking
at it made me uncomfortable. I decided I’d bring it to the cops that day.<br />
I was about to throw it in my purse when the screen lit up.<br />
<i>New message: one attachment.</i><br />
I slid the phone open. The text was from a restricted number again. I
shivered.<br />
I opened the attachment.<br />
It was a picture. A picture of…<i>me</i>. Taken from inside the club when
I was talking to Mr. Bad Boy. It was a close picture, too, taken no more than a
few feet away from me.<br />
I dropped the phone to the floor. I could practically feel my face draining,
a white pallor settling into my cheeks.<br />
My heart was racing like mad, but my brain went into practical mode.<br />
Now I knew I didn’t have the phone by accident. It was left outside of my
apartment in hopes that I would find it. It made sense, didn’t it? That silly
little flimsy case would never have protected the phone from the hard concrete.<br />
So why did they want me to have it? Clearly they wanted to harass me. Ok,
but for what reason? I thought back to my dad. He was a cop, maybe it was
someone he’d pissed off? Although it seemed unlikely, as I was pretty far from
my hometown. <i>Had I pissed anyone off lately?</i> I wracked my brain but
came up empty. I didn’t have enough daily social interactions to piss anyone
off, if I’m being honest.<br />
But they had to know who I was. They’d followed me to the club, they’d taken
my picture…and they’d sent the picture right when I picked up the phone.<br />
Just as this thought registered, the phone went off again.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">BEEP BEEP BEEP.</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Restricted.</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This time, there was
no hesitation. I picked up the phone and said in a strong, angry voice, “Who
the fuck is this? I don’t have time to play your fucking games. Do you think
I’m scared of a shitstain like you?” The expletives continued to pour out of my
mouth.</span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Silence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Are you there?”</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That same, toneless,
emotionless voice. Click. Call ended.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ll admit, I was
pretty freaked out by this. I made the decision in a split second. I grabbed my
backpack and filled it with a few necessities, grabbed both the phones, and ran
out to my car. I jumped in, locking the door behind me, and sped off down the
street, my eyes trained on the rearview mirror to ensure no one was following
me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I drove through town
for a few hours, taking every turn that I could. In the meantime, I formulated
a plan. Whoever this was, and whatever reason they had for doing this, I wasn’t
going to be victim of this stupid prank anymore.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Once I was sure I
wasn’t being followed, I pulled over and called Anna. I explained the situation
to her over the phone and she agreed to let me stay at her place.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’ll help you catch
this fucker,” she said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">About 20 minutes
later, I arrived at her house. “Ok, let’s catch him.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We sat in her living
room and I took out my phone. If we were going to find out who this guy – or
girl – was, we were going to need all the help we could get. And all that help
consisted of this weird phone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I slid the phone to
unlock it and we stared down at it. Where do we start?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Pictures,” tried
Anna.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Right.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I clicked on the
photo icon and started from the beginning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The first few photos
were… normal. A teenage girl with long blonde hair, a toothy smile, and some
leftover acne from her preteen years. She had taken a lot of selfies and stupid
pictures with her friends. Judging by her appearance alone, I figured I had
been right in the first place, that she was a high schooler. But why would a
high schooler be doing this? Could she even pull it off? She would have needed
a pretty good fake ID to get into the club. And I think I would have remembered
seeing someone so young. This just didn’t make sense.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I continued
scrolling. Pretty soon a guy started appearing in the pictures, with messy
brown hair and a dangerously charming smile. They seemed to be getting pretty
close. Her friends slowly disappeared from her pictures and were all replaced
by who I could only assume was her boyfriend.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And then the pictures
turned black.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That was it, just
blackness. Assuming it was a dud, I went to the next picture.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Black.</span></div>
We scrolled through a few like this. Anna shrugged. “This is totally weird.”<br />
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
I swiped right again, and the screen seemed to explode with color.</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
I saw the blonde teen again, but this time she was
lying on the ground. Her hair actually looked like it had turned strawberry
blonde. It took me a moment to register that it was matted with blood. Her head
was crooked to the side and her right arm was twisted at an odd angle behind
her. Blood had pooled around her and her formerly bright blue eyes had dulled
and were staring out into nothing. Dead.</div>
Anna let out a scream. I threw the phone down and ran to the bathroom. I was
sick for a few minutes, before I returned. Anna was shaking on the couch,
staring at the phone, still lying where I’d left it a few minutes earlier.<br />
“Are you okay?”<br />
Anna nodded. “What the fuck is this?” she asked.<br />
“I don’t know,” I admitted.<br />
“We have to find out who this girl is. And if her boyfriend did this.”<br />
I nodded. Gingerly, I picked up the phone again. I figured the remaining
pictures might give us more clues.<br />
Without looking, I swiped past the gory catalogue of the girl’s death. Next
was another black picture. And another one. And another. My anticipation and
anxiety grew with each swipe.<br />
This time, it was the brown-haired boy who appeared first. I have to admit,
up until this point, he had been my first suspect. She had spent all her time
with him, after all. But when I saw his body half smashed through the
windshield of his car, glass sticking into his stomach and blood pouring out of
his eyes, I gave up on that theory. Looking at the screen, I felt his body
would twitch any second, as death overcame him on the hood of his own car.<br />
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
Swipe, swipe, swipe.</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
The next picture was another girl, older than
Blondie, with long black hair and crows’ feet around her eyes. She looked like
she was in her mid-30s. It was a formal picture, with her looking directly into
the camera, standing stiff and straight in business attire. It looked like
she’d taken it for her job.</div>
Next. A similar picture, but this time it was a man staring into the camera.
Colleagues?<br />
A few more black swipes. Then I saw the woman lying on a patch of concrete,
a knife stuck in her stomach, her face stretched out into a scream. Her eyes
were lifeless, but only just so. She’d died just before the picture was taken.<br />
More black stills. Would this ever end?<br />
Then I saw the man. At least, I was pretty sure it was the man. As he hung
from the rafters, his back faced the camera and I couldn’t get a good look at
his face.<br />
I felt sick again.<br />
I continued swiping through the picture gallery, but I was always greeted
with the same sights. A few normal pictures of a girl and a guy, and then both
of their grisly deaths.<br />
Finally, Anna took the phone from me.<br />
“ENOUGH, Amanda. This isn’t helping.”<br />
I could feel my panic growing. My first thought was the cops – I had to get
them involved. But even that made me nervous. This phone just HAPPENED to show
up outside my door with pictures of these disgusting murders. No matter how I
presented it, it made me sound suspicious.<br />
Without a word, I picked up my phone and dialed my dad’s number. I got his
voicemail, so I left a message explaining what had happened. “Can you and your
partners look into this for me? It’s probably just a prank, but it’s a damn
good one.”<br />
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
I took a few deep breaths after that. Okay. Okay. I have my dad in on this now,
it’s going to be okay. I just need to be careful until he gets back to me. It’s
going to be ok.</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
Anna picked up the phone again. “I’m going to look
through the contacts. Maybe we can figure out who’s doing this. Maybe there’s a
clue in here somewhere.”</div>
I sat still while she thumbed through the phone. To be honest, I didn’t even
want to look at the damn thing anymore.<br />
“Whoa… Amanda, look at this!”<br />
I glanced at Anna, afraid to look at the phone at all. I didn’t want to play
this game anymore.<br />
“What is it?” I asked.<br />
“All the contacts… they’re all girls.”<br />
I looked at her, puzzled. “So?”<br />
“So, the first girl, the one the phone must have belonged to, she had a
boyfriend, right? Why isn’t his number in here?”<br />
That was a good point. I looked through the contacts. All girls.<br />
I scrolled down to “my number.” Pulling up the contact information, I saw
that a name was listed next to it. Weird. Tina Drescher.<br />
Suddenly, I grabbed Anna’s computer.<br />
“What are you doing?”<br />
“Trying to find the connection.” There had to be a reason all these girls
had died, there had to be a reason that Tina died. Something was connecting
them.<br />
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
I clicked on the first article Google spit out.</div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
<b><i>WINONA TEEN FOUND DEAD ON SCHOOL GROUNDS</i></b></div>
<div class="adjustblocksforads">
The picture accompanying the article was definitely
Tina. I continued reading.</div>
A recent tragedy has resulted in the death of Winona teen Tina Drescher.
Tina’s body was found on April 6<sup>th</sup>, 2012, lying next to the main
building of Winona Public High School. Although the police are continuing their
investigation, the death appears to have been a suicide.<br />
“Although it is unfortunate, it is not unheard of,” Chief of Police Robert
Mansfield reported on Wednesday. “When teenagers like Tina come under severe
pressure, they tend to make poor decisions. It is a pity that Tina felt this
was her only option.”<br />
Tina’s parents were shocked by her decision.<br />
“Tina was such a happy child,” her mother explained tearfully to KTV Channel
12 reporters. “She would never have done something like this.”<br />
Students and members of the community are welcome to attend a memorial
service held for Tina on April 14<sup>th</sup>. The memorial service will be
held in the Winona Public High School gymnasium.<br />
“Here, try this one,” said Anna. “Emily Tressor.”<br />
I punched it into Google and up popped the black-haired woman.<br />
I skimmed the article this time. Found murdered outside of a bar downtown.
But there was something new here.<br />
“Anna… this girl was sexually assaulted,” I said.<br />
“What?”<br />
“Look, it’s right here.”<br />
“That doesn’t make sense.” Anna frowned. “The other girl committed suicide, this
girl was raped and then murdered. Where’s the connection?”<br />
I shrugged. We punched in the next name, and then the next.<br />
Aside from Tina, all of the reports were the same. Women murdered, presence
of semen and pattern of wounds indicating sexual assault.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“This doesn’t make
any sense!” My frustration was growing. “These girls were all brutalized, all
except for Tina. What makes her different?” I asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Anna was quiet for a
moment. “Maybe she’s the same,” she said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Think about it. She
killed herself for seemingly <i>no reason at all</i>. Maybe that’s why she did
it?” Anna reasoned.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The pieces started to
click together. “But what about her boyfriend? And what about the boys in the
pictures? They’re all dead, too, but their names aren’t saved.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That’s right. If
whoever was doing this was raping and murdering these girls, then what about
the boys? Why did they die in the first place? And why didn’t their deaths
warrant saving?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Anna and I were still
puzzling over it when the phone lit up between us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">BEEP BEEP BEEP.</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was beginning to
hate that sound. I looked at it nervously.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Put it on speaker,”
Anna suggested.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I took a deep breath
and answered the phone, doing as Anna said and pressing the speakerphone
option.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Who is this?” I
asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nothing but silence.
Silence that was slowly breaking down my sanity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My voice broke as I
asked, “What do you want? Why are you doing this?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Stay away from him.”</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Click.</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Who the fuck was she
talking about?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Wait…<i> Mr. Bad Boy</i>.
He was in the picture that I received.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A picture started to
form in my mind. Whoever was doing this was coming for me, to rape me, to leave
me dead. But where did Anna’s friend (Derek was his name) fit into this?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As I was pondering
this question, I heard Anna gasp next to me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“The pictures,” she
said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She pulled up the
phone again. “Look at the pictures of the guys.” I looked. The first guy
through his windshield, the second hanging from the rafters, the third with his
wrists split open, the fourth with a gunshot to the head…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Wait.</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“These are…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“…suicides…” Anna
finished for me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The final piece
clicked into place.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“He frames them,” I
said, slowly. “He goes after the girls and he frames the men…and they kill
themselves.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We were silent for a
moment. Then I bolted to my feet and grabbed my bag.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Wait, Amanda, where
are you going?” Anna yelled after me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I paused at the door.
“I have to talk to Derek. I have to tell him what’s happening. He doesn’t
realize the danger he’s in.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I hugged Anna. “You
can’t come with me, I need you to stay here in case I need a place to crash
again.” <i>And because I don’t want you to get hurt along with me,</i> I added
silently in my head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I think she would
have tried to follow me, but I was out the door before she could say anything.
I had swiped Derek’s number when he plugged mine into his phone, thank God. His
phone was already ringing on the other end as I got into my car.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Well, well, well. If
it isn’t the lovely lady from the bar,” he said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I blushed. Even under
the circumstances, his voice was making me heat up. “Derek, I need to talk to
you. I need to see you. Are you busy right now?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I could almost hear
the smile in his voice. “Am I so dashing that you can’t wait until tomorrow?
Well, that’s fine with me. We can meet up. Why don’t you come to my apartment?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I hesitated. That was
no good, then my stalker would know where he lived.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I was thinking
somewhere more public…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He laughed. “Don’t
trust me yet? That’s not a problem. How about a restaurant, then? We can make
it a real date.” He rattled off the name of a surprisingly expensive restaurant
downtown and I accepted.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’ll be there in 20
minutes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“It’s a date.” I
could hear the smile in his voice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Talking to him seemed
to help me access my inner strength. And for the first time since I found the
phone, I got angry. Really, really angry. This guy thought he could just push
me around? He thought he could intimidate me? Well, it wasn’t going to be as
easy as he was hoping. If I was going down, I was taking him with me. And then
no one else was going to have to suffer like I had.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There were still
things I didn’t understand, however. Why was I getting calls from this girl?
Did he have someone working with him? And what was their aim in doing this?
Even as I arrived at the restaurant, these questions were buzzing in my mind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I immediately felt
safer when I saw Derek’s shock of black hair and his bright, sparkling smile. I
felt tears rushing into my eyes as relief flooded over me. I was a little
afraid of scaring him off, but I couldn’t stop myself from running into his
arms.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He was shocked, but
his arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong, what
happened?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I couldn’t answer for
a minute, so he just held me and talked in a low, soothing voice. “It’s ok, you
can tell me, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After that, he led me
to a booth towards the back of the restaurant where we could be alone. I poured
out my story, the phone, the calls, the pictures… he listened silently, his
face unmoving. I finished with my theory about the stalker.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I had to tell you
because I think he’s coming after both of us,” I finished, with tears springing
into my eyes again. Derek reached across the table and took my hands in his. He
looked straight into my eyes as he spoke.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Listen to me. I
won’t let this guy come near you, ok? Everything is going to be fine.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I nodded, my
frustrated tears replaced by grateful ones. I could finally feel safe.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It was dark by the
time we left the restaurant. Derek had offered to put me up at his house, but I
refused…I didn’t want to endanger him any more than I already had. Plus, I was
getting worried about Anna. What if the guy had followed me to her house? I
called to make sure she was okay. She answered and sounded fine, but I thought
it would be better to get back as soon as I could.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Derek was walking me
to my car when he suddenly stopped.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What is it, what’s
wrong?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He looked around for a
moment, then grabbed my arm. “Shit. I think he’s here,” he whispered. He was
grabbing my arm so hard it hurt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Follow me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We ran down the
street, me practically being dragged by his iron grip. Just before we hit the
end of the street, he turned right and we veered into an alley.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I stood there winded
as he peeked back down the street.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Good, no one saw
us.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I looked up at him
and I knew something was wrong.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Derek was looking at
me, his goofy grin replaced with something…darker. He was smirking.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You’re worried about
your stalker, huh? This freak that rapes and murders these girls…here’s an
idea! <i>Maybe if I do his job for him, he’ll leave you alone!</i> How about
that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I stared at him,
confused. What had happened to the protective guy I’d seen just a moment
before?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“W-what are you
talking about?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He stepped towards
me. I stepped back. He laughed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You know why I
brought you into this alley? ‘Cause <i>there’s nowhere to run</i>. And you were
stupid enough to believe me when I said we were being watched. Are you <i>psycho</i>?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I backed into the
wall at the end of the alley. My heart was in my throat. I began to realize
that I had made a terrible mistake. I wanted to move, but I couldn’t. My hands
were clammy and shaking. I had nowhere to go.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Derek reached down
and tugged at the zipper of his jeans.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You’re lucky. I
don’t usually fuck crazy chicks, but for you? Well, I’ll make an exception.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That seemed to break
me out of my trance. I went into panic mode. Before I knew what I was doing, my
leg had swung up and caught him right where it hurt the most.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He screamed a few
expletives and grabbed his crotch. I tried to run past him, but he grabbed my
arm in that iron grip again. I could feel tiny bruises forming where his
fingernails dug into my skin.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You fucking bitch,
you’ll pay for that. Fucking whore!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I yanked at my arm as
hard as I could. His other hand grabbed my hair and yanked me back. I reached
up with my free arm and clawed at his eyes. I could feel the blood soaking
under my fingernails as he screamed. He released my arm, keeping a firm grip on
my hair, and grabbed a knife from his back pocket.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And then suddenly,
everything stopped.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I don’t know how we
both knew something was there, but we did. He turned around to look, and as he
did, I caught a glimpse of her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It was the blonde
girl from the photos, her thin stature and solemn eyes staring at us intensely.
She looked at me for a moment before shifting her gaze to Derek.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Suddenly, I couldn’t
see her anymore.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What the fuck? What
the fuck? <i>What the FUCK?</i>” Derek screamed. He let go of me and backed
against the alley wall.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">To me, she had
disappeared. But whatever Derek saw, it was like torture.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He screamed and
grabbed his bleeding eyes. I was surprised he could still see after the wounds
I’d given him. He kept standing like that, screaming over and over again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Finally, he dashed
out of the alley, leaving me in the darkness.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I stood there on my
own, breathing heavily, my whole body trembling like a leaf.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">BEEP BEEP BEEP.</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I picked the phone up
out of my bag. I answered it right there in the darkness. This time, I didn’t
say anything, but I waited.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sure enough, Tina’s
voice came over the phone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I told you to stay
away from him.”</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Although I reported
Derek’s assault to the police, it turns out that I didn’t have to. A few days
later, he was found in his garage, his car filled with noxious fumes that had
lulled him into a deadly sleep. Another suicide to add to the photo gallery. I
vaguely wondered what he had seen, what had driven him to that point.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I realized how wrong
I’d been about the phone, about Tina. I knew now why she’d killed herself. Why
her boyfriend had died so soon after. And why every woman who’d received this
phone had suffered like she did.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She wasn’t coming
after us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She was just trying
to protect us. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
</blockquote>
<span class="disqus-comment-count" data-disqus-url="http://thoughtcatalog.com/rona-vaselaar/2015/04/i-found-an-iphone-on-the-ground-and-what-i-found-in-its-photo-gallery-terrified-me/"></span></div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-50257750649675564382016-04-25T18:56:00.001-05:002016-04-25T18:56:29.433-05:00Funny Video<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I found this on my Facebook, and I saw many references to some urban legends here. So we all have have a laugh, I'm putting the link to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/106916773004581/videos/108945589468366/" target="_blank">this hilarious Halloween video</a>. Enjoy!</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-7409904919665780872016-04-20T12:47:00.003-05:002016-04-20T12:47:36.846-05:00YouTube<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So, I now run a YouTube channel for Urban Legends. If you are interested, please check it out and subscribe! Here is the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/vampwannabe1" target="_blank">link</a>! Happy legend hunting!</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-80119295833476434762016-04-15T15:48:00.001-05:002016-07-31T12:42:14.866-05:00The Black Kimono<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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One day in Japan, a man wanted to meet up with a girl he had gone to school with named Asako. They arranged to meet a popular location in Tokyo. But, on the day they were to meet, he waited for a few hours. Asako never showed up. He thought she may have forgotten or that it was the wrong day, he went home.<br />
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He called her that night and she was mad at him for not showing up. She had been at the meeting place on time, but they had missed each other. It was kind of strange, but Tokyo was big and the meeting spot busy, so the two laughed and made plans to meet at a smaller train station outside of the city.<br />
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The man got to the meeting place and waited for hours. He even got the announcers to us the P.A. system to come meet him at the exit. Again, Asako was a no show.<br />
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He called her again and she insisted that she had waited at the exit, like they had discussed. She even heard the announcement. She said she was standing at the exit but no one else was around.<br />
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Of course, this freaked them out. So, the man decided to take his girlfriend, Yukiko, with him to Asako's apartment and meet her that night. Asako agreed to this, so the man and his girlfriend headed over right away.<br />
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The three fun, everything seemed normal, and they lost track of time. The man and Yukiko had missed the last train that would take them home. Asako said that they could stay the night and pulled out the futon for them to use.<br />
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About 3 AM that night, the man woke up, unable to move. He opened his eyes and saw Asako looking down at him as she sat on his stomach. Her eyes were as black as night and her face almost pure white. Her long black hair hung in his face. Asako was wearing a black kimono and a headdress that looked like a 3-pronged candlestick with burning candles.<br />
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She moved closer, her hair moving with an abnormal wind and it caught on fire. He could feel the heat from her hair, but he still couldn't move or speak. He began to panic, especially when she began to reach for his neck. He tried to get his girlfriend's attention, but his voice refused to come out. Asako squeezed his neck, the whole time whispering something to him, but he couldn't make it out.<br />
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All of a sudden, he yelled out and heard someone moving on the bed. It was Asako, sleepy and confused. Yukiko was laying on the floor nearby instead. He refused to tell the girls what had happened. But, two months later, he and Yukiko went to a traditional Japanese play.<br />
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One character was a vengeful woman who had been betrayed in her past life. Her goal: To hunt down the reincarnation of the man who betrayed her and kill him. She was pale with long, black hair and wore a black kimono. She also wore a 3-pronged candlestick headdress, and her hair would catch fire from the candles atop it.<br />
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Later, the man went to a fortune teller and asked her about his experience. She told him that he had betrayed a woman in his past life and the spirit of the angry woman was reincarnated as Asako. Every they had tried to meet up, his protector spirits prevented them from seeing each other to keep his safe. But, when he stayed in Asako's apartment, he had trapped himself in a place where the vengeful woman could attack him. The fortune teller said he was lucky to be alive.</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-54694196750409641192016-04-14T19:50:00.000-05:002016-04-15T15:49:19.380-05:00The Boy with the Brass Buttons<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Years ago, there was an old-fashioned house in Stuyvesant Square. It had been vacant for a while, but in 1883, winter had settled on the city. A father bought the house and moved into it with his wife and daughter. They decided that the house needed to be renovated to better suit their needs. Years before, the attic of the house had been made into a playroom years before, so they sent their six-year-old to go play while the work took place on the floors below.<br />
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After a few weeks, the rooms were almost finished, giving the mother time to play with her daughter. However, despite this, the child kept sneaking up to the attic to play. Eventually, her mother asked her why.<br />
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Her daughter replied, "To play with the funny little boy in the attic."<br />
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"What little boy?" asked the mother.<br />
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"The little boy with the brass buttons," said the little girl.<br />
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When the mother went with the little girl to the attic playroom, it was empty, but the little girl pointed to the boarded up fireplace, stating that the boy with the brass buttons was in the fireplace.<br />
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Thinking that her daughter was telling lies, the mother told her to stop or she would be punished. When the father came home and heard the story, he gave her a stern talking-to and told her what happens if she told lies.<br />
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However, the child insisted that this little boy was there and she saw him. Her parents began to believe the vehement child. This picked the father's curiosity, so he did some research. He found that an Englishman named Cowdery lived in the house and had one little girl and two little boys. The neighbors said that the youngest boy was sweet and innocent. But his father was ashamed of him because he was mentally handicapped.<br />
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One day, the boy's cap was found in the East river. The police assumed the child had fallen in by accident and drowned. But his little body was never found. Shortly after, Mr. Cowdery decided to sell the house, and he, his wife, and surviving children moved West, never to be heard from agin and their location unknown.<br />
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The little girl's father heard the story and this made him suspicious, so he searched the attic thoroughly. He even took his daughter with him. She showed him where her friend lived, again, pointing to the boarded up fireplace. Her father tore off the boards and destroyed part of the wall. What he found prompted him to take his family and move.<br />
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Inside was the skeleton of a small boy, wearing a dark blue jacket with four rows of brass buttons. An autopsy of the body showed that this boy died from a violent blow to the back of the head.<br />
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His father had murdered him and stuffed him in the chimney! He had boarded up the fireplace and moved so no one would find out what he had done to his child!<br />
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The little boy was given a decent burial and the affair silenced.</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-13024152115341032742016-01-10T15:39:00.005-06:002020-06-26T11:38:29.307-05:00Seventh of the Seventh<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Both above are modern examples of the legend of the seventh son of the seventh son. But what is the seventh son of the seventh son and what is it supposed to represent?<br />
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The seventh son of the seventh son is a concept from folklore regarding special powers given to or held by such a son. He must come from an unbroken line of sons. Meaning, no girls can be born before him. For a seventh daughter of the seventh daughter, the concept is the same, but no boys can be born before her. Any of the opposite sex being born anywhere in the line makes everything null and void.<br />
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The number seven has a long history of mystical and religious association: seven deadly sins, seven virtues, seven days of creation, seven ages of man, seven lucky gods of Japanese mythology, seven wonders of the world, etc. In this case, it refers to the man who is the seventh son of a man who is himself a seventh son, or woman who is seventh daughter of a woman who is herself a seventh daughter.<br />
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In some beliefs, God or the gods have given the seventh of the seventh special powers by virtue of their birth. However, the seventh of the seventh is also believed to have a direct link to Satan or the dark god(s), and are given more sinister gifts.<br />
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List of real life Seventh Sons of Seventh Son:<br />
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<li>Perry Como (1912-2001) was a 20th century American crooner</li>
<li>Lyle Lewis Aley (1914-1963) was a pioneer radio announcer</li>
<li>Len Dawson (1935-preasent) in an American football quarterback for the NFL team, the Kanasa City Chiefs, Football Hall-of-Fame recipient, and football broadcast commentator.</li>
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<li>In 1969, Dawson was the QB and the Chiefs were on their way to Superbowl IV, the <strike>only</strike> first time they went to the Superbowl and won (though they have gone and lost before, namely being the AFL<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*</span> team in Superbowl I<span style="font-size: xx-small;">**</span>), gaining Dawson the title of MVP. Since then, the Chiefs have gotten as far as the play-offs and no farther. On Jan. 9, 2016, they broke their 23 year drought (third longest on record at the time) by winning a play-off game. </li>
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<li>In 2020, <a href="https://globalurbanlegends.blogspot.com/2020/06/madden-curse.html" target="_blank">Patrick Mahomes II </a>took the Chiefs to the Superbowl again, on the 50th Anniversary of Dawson's victory. The Chiefs were victorious again, breaking the 50 year dry streak and the need for a seventh of the seventh to win.</li>
</ul>
<li>After 1969, the NFL<span style="font-size: xx-small;">***</span> and AFL merged, becoming the NFC<span style="font-size: xx-small;">****</span> and AFC<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*****</span> within what we now call the NFL.</li>
<li>The Chief became the second AFL team to ever win the Superbowl, the Baltimore Colts<span style="font-size: xx-small;">******</span> being the first in Superbowl III.</li>
</ul>
</ul>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">* American Football League</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">** AFL-NFL World Championships</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*** National Football League</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">**** National Football Conference</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">***** American Football Conference</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">****** New York Jets</span><br />
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TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-59558047749407541352015-12-16T18:33:00.000-06:002016-07-11T19:11:17.990-05:00What is a Sugar Plum?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We all know the story of "A Visit from St. Nicholas", right? No? Oh! You might know it by a different name, "'Twas the Night Before Christmas". If you don't read the book, you know the tale in some form, whether from it being read in a movie/t.v. show or from a variation of it from someone/somewhere, you know the story. Digimon Season 2 did a variation on it <i>A Very Digi Christmas</i> and Jeff Dunham did a reading of the story with many interruptions and interpretations by Peanut.<br />
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But there is a line where the children in the story are "were nestled all snug in their beds/ While visions of sugar plums dance in their heads." I have always wondered what a sugar plum was, but my parents didn't know what it was. They said what everyone thinks, that it is a sugar coated plum... yuck! Well, guess what? They were wrong!<br />
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A sugar plum is any candy that has a kind of "seed" at it's center with layers of hardened candy around it. In a process called "panning", the layers are added onto the "seed" until it is the desired thickness. During this process, the "seed" is spun in a vat to get the layers of candy on them. So, what would classify as a sugar plum?<br />
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Jawbreakers are sugar plums.<br />
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Jellybeans are sugar plums.<br />
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M&Ms are sugar plums.<br />
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And so on, the plum "shape" is purely coincidental or to make it easier in the "panning" process. No, MilyWays and 3Muskateers are not sugar plums, despite the different layers. The "seed" must go through the "panning" process and candy bars don't.<br />
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So now you know what a sugar plum is and when someone asks, you can tell them what a sugar plum actually is.<br />
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Wait! This means that the Sugar Plum Fairies from <i>The Nutcracker </i>are candy fairies! Who knew?!<br />
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TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-19596386073488478072015-12-09T13:11:00.000-06:002016-04-22T13:48:38.603-05:00Krampus<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In Austria and Hungary, there is a legend that keeps kids good all year long. In the spirit of Christmas, I thought I would give you one more reason to be good this year. In this legend, Santa Claus gives presents to good boys and girls on Christmas Eve, while his demonic counterpart deals out the punishment. His name is Krampus.<br />
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He gets his name from the old German word for "claw." In Austria, St. Nicholas is helped by this demon on Christmas Eve. They are even travel buddies. Not only is his name an inspiration for year long nightmares for children, but he looks it as well. He has a red face with goat horns atop his head and shaggy black fur all over. He carries chains and rings a large cowbell. He has a long crimson tongue, a tail, and he totes around a big stick and huge black bag.<br />
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In Austria, children place their shoes on the window sill or outside there bedroom doors. Santa and Krampus visit in the night. Good children get candy in their shoes, while Krampus beats naughty children with his stick. However, if the child has been down right rotten, Krampus stuffs them into his bag, carries them far away, and throws them in a river!<br />
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How terrifying would it be to have a pleasant Christmas Eve, you go to bed where sugarplums dance in your head... only to have this man-goat-demon burst into your room, dragging chains and ringing a bell? Then, he beats you with his stick, all the while, you scream for your parents for help! Lastly, he stuffs you in his bag to carry you away (your parents don't try to stop him, even after they've seen what he has done), and throws you in the river where you drown! All because you were a bad boy/girl that year.<br />
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The legend actually spread to most of Europe, and is very popular in many countries. Today, Krampus day is a celebration that happens every December 5th. In some towns, a handful of men will dress up as this beast by putting on masks with horns, wearing furs, and stomping around in heavy boots. They visit houses that have small children in them. The men knock, the parents let "Krampus" in, and the men terrorize the children by growling and waving their sticks in the air. After everyone has had a good scare put in them, the parents, get this, <b>reward the men with a good rest and a drink</b>!<br />
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Krampus has been brought into the Hollywood limelight by three different people.<br />
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The popular show, <i>Grimm</i>, featured Krampus, but named him "Wesen".</div>
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<i>American Dad</i> did another Christmas Special about their grudge holding Santa, but putting Santa and the Smiths on the same side to defeat the "evil" that is Krampus.</div>
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On December 4th, Krampus had a $61.5 million hit named after him, allowing him to join the other Christmas horror movies.</div>
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And you thought Christmas was safe!</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-30278932943485820672015-11-17T22:46:00.000-06:002015-11-17T22:47:19.468-06:00Username Warning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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One day, a boy was surfing the internet and found a <a href="http://www.scaryforkids.com/crazy-website/" target="_blank">site</a> that let you read scary stories. He wanted to leave a comment, so he registered with the username, Devil666. Instantly, his inbox was flooded with private messages saying things like "We love you, Satan!" and "All hail the dark Lord!" It freaked him out so much that he turned off his computer and unplugged his internet.<br />
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The next day, a group of Satanists stormed his house and bowed before the boy, worshipping him. Later, they killed his parents and took over the house. They drank, smoked, and ate everything in the house. That night, they put on black robes and recited prayers backwards. The boy grew horns, pointy ears, and a barbed tail. He also began to smell of sulfer.<br />
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A teenage girl also found the site and used the name Unidentified_Victim. A few hours later, a group of serial killers broke into her house. They started to fight over who would kill her. They started to kill each other over it. While they were stabbing each other, the girl made a break for it.<br />
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As she was running across the road, a car hit her. The next day, the police managed to clean up her remains as best as they could. However, she hadn't carried any form of I.D. The police could never identify her. She was burried in an unmarked grave and her parents never learned what happened to their little girl.<br />
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Another young girl used the name ClownLover14. Within minutes, a gang of clowns was banging on her door. She refused to let them in, so thy started peeking through windows and the mail slot. The clowns were drooling and telling her how cute she was.<br />
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The girl's mother called the police and most of the clowns were arrested. However, on her way to school, a black van pulled up and blocked her path. When she turned to run, a big hairy clown stepped out and grabbed her. He kidnapped her and they found her corpse on the side of the road a few days later.<br />
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A married man loved in with the name JoannaCutie. He started getting creepy, flirtatious emails from fourteen year old boys. He had to use the restroom and got a surprise. When he made the mirror, he saw he had luscious blond hair and an ample bosom.<br />
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He ran downstairs to the kitchen to tell his wife. When she saw him, she yelled, "I knew he was cheating on me!" He tried to explain, but his wife slapped him in the face and pulled his hair. After a while, the two women shared a bottle of wine and cried bitterly about how terrible men are.<br />
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Since then, people have been careful about the usernames they use on the site.</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-44541549323022287912015-11-15T15:08:00.000-06:002015-11-15T15:09:25.546-06:00Terror in Paris<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We all know that on Friday, October 13, 2015, France was attacked by the terrorist group known as ISIS. Above is a picture of the scene. One hundred eighty people were killed in this horrific incident.<br />
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All around the world, people and nations are rallying behind France in a show of solidarity. Land marks that constantly have lights on them appear in the colors of the French flag. The Eiffel Tower lights were shut off in memorial. The last time such an event happened was on September 11, 2001.<br />
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Facebook even lets its users place a transparent French flag over their prophile picture using a special app. Simply go to your friend list, find someone with the flag on their picture, click the picture, click "Try Out", and put in your preferred length of time. It was the same with the Rainbow flag when the U.S. Senent said that same sex marriage was a constitutional right.<br />
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A campaign has started called <a href="http://www.prayforparis.com/" target="_blank">Pray for Paris</a>. You can buy clothing, join the efforts and learn more about the attacks. You can also go to the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/" target="_blank">New York Times</a> website and watch your local news.<br />
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As a show of remembrance and solidarity, this blog will now have the French flag as its background for one week. </div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-73681546096030969912015-11-15T14:30:00.000-06:002015-11-15T14:31:23.495-06:00Easy A<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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There is a rumor among college students. It is how to get a 4.0 GPA, which seems to be getting harder and harder every year.<br />
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So far, any instance of this actually happening hasn't been found, but one never really knows. It does depend on the school and the teacher.<br />
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The legend goes that, should your roommate commit suicide or is murdered in your room, you will automatically get a 4.0 GPA out of sympathy. Of course, you can't have helped them in any way or killed them.<br />
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Of course, all colleges say there is no real foundation to the rumor. In other words, don't try to put your eggs in this basket. There is a large hole and your eggs are certain to fall and break.</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-16240953741727405072015-11-15T14:19:00.000-06:002015-11-15T14:20:07.822-06:00Aren't You Glad You Didn't Turn On The Light?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Two best friends, who had grown up together, went to the same college and became roommates. They had fun and were enjoying their school life.<br />
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One day, the girls decided to stay up and do some extra studying for the mid-term exams that were scheduled the next day. However, one of them got lazy and went to bed early while the other continued to study.<br />
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At one point, the studious friend realized she had forgotten a book she needed. She went into their room. It was dark. Not wanting to disturb her friend, she made her way to her things in the darkness.<br />
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Suddenly, she heard heaving breathing coming from her friend's bed, so she called out her name. When she didn't hear a reply, she became worried.<br />
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"Can I turn on the light?" she asked.<br />
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When she didn't get a reply, she asked again. When she still didn't get a reply, she went back to looking for her book, upset. She took the book with her as she felt around for the door and then back to the study room. She stayed in there and studied all night.<br />
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The next day, she ran to take her exam. Afterwards, she noticed her friend wasn't there. She went back to her room and found a gruesome sight. Her roommate lay in her bed, brutally murdered. On the wall behind her was a message written in blood that read:<br />
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"Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?"</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-46180456943516098392015-11-13T13:13:00.000-06:002015-11-13T13:13:41.920-06:00Black-Eyed Children<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Black-Eyed Children (BEK) are a group of young people, most often young kids, that have solid black eyes. This means that no other color can be seen in their eyes, not even the whites. Some are said to have blue or blue tinted skin like a corpse. Many reports have noted a sense of uneasy from eyewitnesses, as if something was wrong with the child or something bad would happen to the eyewitness themselves.<br />
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They are usually met near abandoned or deserted areas, though they can appear at your doorstep. Sometimes it is just one child, other times it is two. They are described as looking confident, yet shy. They avoid your gaze and look down. This is to hide their eyes. They also speak with an eloquence far beyond their apparent age.<br />
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They often have characteristics and speech patterns of an adult and may even mimic the voice of an adult. They will try to enter their target's home or vehicle, asking for help from someone unknown danger or by needing to use a phone.<br />
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They will sometimes be seen out side of your home, playing. When noticed, they will stop their fun and immediately stare at you. They may even try to approach you for help or a ride home.<br />
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Some people begin to help the children, despite the unknown gut instinct telling them to run. They don't even know why the request for help is unsettling. However, should you ever see their eyes, they will become angry and insistent that you do as they say. Some have aid that it felt like they were using low-level mind control (ESP) to make the victim comply.<br />
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None of the encounters explain why their eyes are completely black or where the children come from. It is believed by some that they are the spirits of lost or murdered children, and they are the harbingers of ill will and personal doom. Others believe they are descendants of aliens or are themselves aliens from outer space.<br />
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Many reports emphasize that the children must be voluntarily admitted or invited into the house or vehicle, sort of like some vampire folklore. Unfortunately, no one knows what happens if you give into their demands. This may indicate the death of the victim.<br />
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Here is a video from the show, Ancient Aliens, that mentioned Black-Eyed Children about 2/3 into the video.<br />
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<span style="color: magenta;">*NOTE: This blogger doesn't necessarily believe in aliens. If aliens do exist, they would know to stay away from a species that is stupid enough to destroy the only planet it lives on. Why would you want to study stupid?*</span></div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605784903643441714.post-37512034593720172672015-11-12T14:33:00.000-06:002015-11-12T14:34:32.878-06:00Hairy Arms<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A young woman was shopping on Halloween for some candy to hand out to the kids in her neighborhood. She had just finished shopping and was carrying her things to her car.<br />
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Just as she finished putting her bags in the trunk, an old woman carrying a bag walked up to her and said, "Excuse me, but I missed my bus. I have been walking all day and my feet hurt. Would you mind giving me a ride, deary?"<br />
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The young woman was in good spirits, so she agreed to give the old woman a ride. She in locked the door and proceeded to get in, as did the old woman. When the young woman sat down, she noticed that the old woman had hairy arms. For some reason, this unnerved the young woman, who began looking in her purse.<br />
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"I forgot my credit card inside the mall," said the young woman. "Do you mind waiting while I go get it?"<br />
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The old woman nodded and the young woman walked back into the mall. She quickly found a security guard and told him everything. Together, they walked out to the parking lot.<br />
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They found the woman's car empty and the passenger door wide open. The old woman had left behind her bag. Inside was a huge butcher's knife and a roll of duct tape.</div>
TheGiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11215013295783451859noreply@blogger.com0