Rare Stories on Internet

I work TSA on the International Space Station It's not as fun as you think Yes, aliens are real. I mean nowadays most people already know that. Something you don’t know though, they’re assholes. All of them. That doesn’t make me racist. It actually doesn’t make me anything. We haven’t invented a word for discrimination against extraterrestrials yet, so nice try. I guess I can go ahead and invent the word for us. Or maybe, I’ll just reuse one: Sane. Bad manners, bad habits, and bad breath. Yes. Very bad breath. If you know or meet anyone with chronic bad breath it could be a Glomelean on vacation. Now, you may be asking. Aliens? International Space Station? A committee was formed roughly a decade ago when E.T. encounters began spiking upward at a rapid rate. Countries at the frontier of space exploration met and decided the best choice was, of course, to keep it all under tight wraps, and pretend everyone else was crazy. While, as expected of humans, trying to turn a profit at the s

 Nicki didn't go to Heaven *One day, there’s no more room in heaven* *The pearly gates are closed.* *All the angels come on down.* *Come on down.* It was just a nursery rhyme my grandfather used to sing. A reminder to be good, and to accept things for what they are instead of needlessly holding on to the superficial. A story of heaven being closed, and even the angels being left outside. I remember asking him, once, what that world would look like. He stroked my hair, held me tight, and sighed. “You’ll see, dear boy,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, but you’ll see.” My grandfather has been gone for a long time now. His ashes were spread on the lavender fields outside Tomskog, Minnesota. Part of me still get this sinking feeling when I think of him, and another part of me just hopes he made it through the gates. No, I’m not a very religious person. But a sentence can paint a concept, and a concept can be a powerful thing. Maybe there is no pearly gate in the sky, but maybe there is a sens

 Deep Dark Web Horror Story As I sat alone in my dimly lit bedroom, surrounded by stacks of dusty books and creaking floorboards, I stumbled upon something that would change my life forever. It was an old laptop, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the attic, covered in cobwebs and grime. The screen was cracked and the keyboard was sticky with dried spills, but it still worked. And when I turned it on, I found myself sucked into a dark and terrifying world of the deep web. At first, everything seemed normal enough. I browsed through various forums and websites, reading about conspiracy theories and urban legends. But then, I stumbled upon a forum dedicated to the darkest corners of the internet. The posts were cryptic and ominous, speaking of ancient evils and forbidden knowledge. I dismissed them as mere fantasy, but one post caught my eye. It was a thread titled "The Red Room," and the users claimed that it was a place where you could find anything your heart desired... fo

I searched my parent's names on the dark web. The videos I found were horrifying When my friend first introduced me to the dark web, I was amazed at how such an unknown thing could house some of the most illegal things on earth. Up until today, I had only used it for learning how to code and commit small crimes, but after the horrifying videos I just found, I don’t think I’ll ever use the dark web again.       I first met my best friend Alex when a little bit after I got into highschool. My parents had moved us to a new town and I had no friends, it was lonely at first, but I got used to it. We moved because they were paranoid after many murders occurred in our town. I thought this was weird, moving across the country over that, but I let it go.       The reason Alex and I became friends so quickly, was because we both had a shared interest in the internet and everything it had to offer. I was a gaming addict, and a tier 3 pokimane subscriber, while he was more of a coder and dev

There's a trapdoor... no one knows what's below. It took my sister When I first stumbled on the above-titled post by “ScaredinMilwaukee,”  it seemed like 99% of internet clickbait—as genuine as a Nigerian prince’s gold. I skimmed as far as a line about how *she tried filming but only got static* before I rolled my eyes and switched to porn. But the post and attached video kept popping up in my feed, reblogged with titles like, “Trapdoor to Hell,” and “Disappeared or Dead?” I finally gave in to curiosity and clicked: >ScaredInMilwaukee 6:24pm >*The trapdoor wasn’t there before and isn’t there now. My sis went down a bunch of times but could never remember what was down there. She tried filming but only got static. The last time she came back she had DON’T COME! scribbled on her arm in her own handwriting. She went anyway and didn’t come back so I went down a few times. The last time I came out screaming and lost my phone and ran for police. But when police got to the house

 A ghost was cleaning my friends apartment, now she’s dead  TW: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE Hi internet, my name is Kayli. Last week, my friend Raegan died. I found the following article on her laptop after it was seized. I want to share it as I know this happened and want to share her story. If anyone has experienced anything like this, please comment so that I can gather more evidence to prevent this from happening again. Here is what I found: I don’t want to complain, but a ghost is cleaning my apartment. When it first started 10 months ago, it was just small things. I would wake up to my toothbrush being in its holder instead of on the counter where I thought I left it, go to put my shoes on and find that the shoe rack is neatly organized - things that were easy to miss. I am a forgetful person and was proud of myself for cleaning without even remembering doing it.  Things slowly escalated from there. I would come home from work to find my bed made, my kitchen cleaned, my dishwasher emptie

I fell in love with my neighbor’s wife, but I think there’s something wrong with her I have never been a person who’s kept many close relationships. It’s never been my nature to let people into my life. I’ve always taken stock in being an observer, getting to know people from a distance. This trait is what led me to become so enmeshed in Monica’s life.  Monica Stephens and her husband Dylan were my neighbors and my landlords at my new apartment. I had just moved to the city from my small town - mostly to find work, but it didn’t hurt that they were many more people watching opportunities here than at my previous residence.  My apartment was not lavish by any stretch, but it was perfect for me. I lived on the top floor, a view of the rooftop garden from my kitchen. And my bedroom window was directly across from the Stephens kitchen window, as they lived just two doors down. Although I’d tried, I could never get a view of their bedroom, as their thick, blackout curtains were shut tightly