I Have an Obsession with the Paranormal (Especially Post Mortem pictures)

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January 25th 2018

Hey everyone! Jacob here! I’m sorry that I had to cut the last post short, but I had to take care of some stuff. I go to community college and work part time at the library on campus every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. My parents always push to get my studies done before anything else, and I have adopted that same mindset as well. I also wanted to apologize for the slight vagueness in my first post. I wanted to talk more about how I got into this stuff on my end. So like I stated in my previous posts, my parents were a huge influence on why I love the paranormal so much.

I think what started it all was my first experience with the paranormal when I was about 7 years old. Back then, my family and I lived in a house that was slightly smaller than the one we lived in and it was HAUNTED af, I seriously mean it was haunted. However, I didn’t really start to experience anything until I got a bit older. Anyway, when I was 7 years old, I was playing with my older brother Kevin who was about 10 years old at the time. I had two older sisters, 12 and 14 who were inside the house at the time. Kevin and I were out in our playground that our parents made for us when we first moved here. We were both playing in our sandbox, it was a fairly large one at that.

“I’m going to make a city that will reach the sky! And a rollercoaster in the middle of it.” I remember saying that vividly out of everything else. I really wanted to be an architect when I was little.

“You’re going to need a lot more sand than that to make skyscrapers that big.” My brother said as he was doing his version of a reanactment of Godzilla. Clumps of light tan sand sat in front of him as he used his favorite toy airplane to destroy the smaller clumps. I remember that he always wanted to be a pilot. 15 years later, he made that dream come true, but that’s a story for another day. We were having a good day in the hot midsummer’s sun.

“You know what would be cool to do one of these days?” Kevin asked me with some form of malintent… I say malintent because I had a feeling it was going to be a prank or some sort of trick. We loved to play pranks on one another.

“What?” I said

“Go check out the creek by our house without grown-ups! I heard that there is a church in the middle of the woods and its haunted!” He said excitedly.

“But we tried to do it one time and we both got grounded for a week without TV or video games! The nextdoor neighors caught us, remember?”

“So? We’re fast enough to sneak past mom and dad and our neighbors. We would be even faster if we snuck out of our rooms when mom and dad are asleep.”

“I don’t like where this is going.” I remember feeling my stomach churning at the thought. I was still afraid of the dark and there was something about this situation that just wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I know I felt something.

“Come on man! Maybe we can get Joe from next door from us to go with us.” Joe Randall was our best friend since childhood. At the time he was 13 years old, a cubscout, and would regularly go on hikes in the backwoods with his dad and younger sister. We had so many good memories with Joe. Hell, even after we moved we still chat all the time and get into shenanigans.

“Maybe…” I said grasping at my chin, pretending that I had a beard.

“I already talked to him about it! We were going to do it tonight at 10 o’clock! Please?”

“Why do you want me to come and not one of our sisters?”

“Bleh! I don’t want them to come with us. They’re not as brave as you and I. Anyway, Joe has a camera so we can take all kinds of pictures. We will be the coolest kids in school for doing this. No one has done this before because everyone is a scaredy cat. So, what do ya say? Shake on it?” He put his hand right in my face. I sighed and shaked his hand.

“Alright deal”. As soon as I shook his palm I felt my stomach drop and my head was immediately all mixed up. I couldn’t go back on a handshake, it’s a personal brother to brother kind of thing. I will say one thing for sure… what happened that night imprinted itself in my memories forever….

More coming soon…

Part 1

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Break

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Straight sacred lines turn into cracks in due time.

All the  cracks will crawl straight to me.

They spread as roots from a tree spread into the soil.

Everything the cracks impose is unavoidable.

Going beyond; the cracks betray the line in the sand.

What was once sacred is nothing now.

Washed away from the massive gusts of rain and dust.

This cycle will never change.

The lines can never be filled; the breaks will never be repaired.

The worst has yet to come and I am not prepared.

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Thanatic Tomb Waltzer

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Like everything in this realm and many others, there is always a dark side.

The Grave Dancer has a shadow companion, one which she cannot see, feel, or hear.

Her name is Thanatos, the Thanatic Tomb Waltzer. Unlike The Grave Dancer, she died in anger, pain, and sorrow.

Thanatos died down the street from her very own home. A massive pileup happened in the middle of the road, causing six cars to spiral out of control, slamming Thanatos into another building. The wall made of glass gaveway to the force of the car and sank Thanatos into shards of glass and wood. Thanatos was pronounced dead at the scene. Many others passed away from that crash as well.

The two were once biological twins when they were both still alive. Both loved to sing and dance with one another. The two beings exist on different planes of reality, due to the nature of their deaths and the spirits that they hold within.

Like The Grave Dancer, Thanatos was a name given to her.

Thanatos would only be present in places reeking of death and sorrow.

Cemeteries, broken tombs, old decrepid resting places, even unmarked graves.

Thanatos didn’t just dance like The Grave Dancer, she would dance slowly with a gentle waltz, to an uncontrollable wild dance that is forever unknown.

The Grave Dancer would hum, sing, and laugh, whereas Thanatos would cry, scream, and wail.

She was not a kind hearted spirit like The Grave Dancer. She tormented the dead with her screaming and crying. Sometimes she would dance upon the graves, creating more noise than anything else.

For the spirits that tried to stop her, she would send her ravens to chew them out.

She would cackle at the spirits who suffered from her terror. She laughed at spirits who felt endless pain and sorrow. She even would join in if she felt like the situation warranted it.

Despite the fact that The Grave Dancer and her dog are as happy as can be, she still wonders what has happened to her dear sister.

One day… that all changed.

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Dead Silence

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I sing and sing and sing the dreaded song.

Infinitely singing sweetly the song of silence.

Rapidly spreading the sound of sweet misery and dread.

‘Tis music to the ears for some.

‘Tis sweet nothingness for mine.

I feel the sweet dread pulsing through my veins as each note leaves my lips.

Endless euphoric ecstasy ignited by the dread fills my brain with empty love. 

Death and dread are best friends.

I am the source of music to which they dance to with delight. 

I quiver at the mere thought of it.

I am the creator of silence, the creator of nothing; a delusion that doesn’t even exist.

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NoOne NoOne

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Heart as black as the midnight sky.

I have forgotten who I am in the midst of death.

I’ve lost my soul to the false angels and hid within the lair of the demons.

I don’t want to remember what I was meant to embrace.

I let my thoughts sink into the blackness of night.

It’s just me here now, everyone else has died.

No one is here. No one will ever be here.

It’s just me here, no one else.

Forever and always.

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M1sSss,.., @nThR0p3.exe

85718bf70bd1fee6ff39805945bd8224--quotes-on-death-dark-fairytaleI don’t have a name. I don’t have a face. I don’t have an identity. I don’t have anything. I’m not anything. Don’t patronise me with your questions, I’m not a fool.

I’m often refered as ‘It’, ‘The Thing’, ‘silhouette’, ‘Shadow being’, ‘Misanthrope’. It doesn’t matter to me. They all mean the same thing.

I exist for one reason, one reason with which I’ve never truly had a single grasp of. No… I don’t believe I’ll have any grasp of it any time soon. It doesn’t really matter to me. Nothing really matters to me.

Nonetheless, here I am. I do not harm others, nor do I help them. I truly don’t desire much of anything anymore. I have no emotions, no desires, no intentions… I am just here. I just am. We just are. This just is… Nothing more, nothing less.

I do not wish to find my soul purpose, nor do I wish to find ‘who’ or ‘what’ I truly am. I’m not dead, nor am I alive. The darkness is my life. It always has been, and always will be. I have no desire for anything other than to exist amongst the shadows. The shadows are not a safe place for you to be in. So please, don’t join me or keep me company. I wish not to be disturbed by any means, and neither do the others who reside with me. 

I might be indifferent when it comes to any interaction. However, the other beings who exist in the shadows have a completely different way of ‘handling’ any kind of interaction. They are not to be toyed with. 

Also, Just as a warning… (like it really matters) I am a being of the human race (unfortunately)… don’t mistake me for the ones who lurk around in the shadows… in your home, in your bed, around you, behind you… they are not human and you cannot be saved now… toy with them, and you will end up like me. If you end up like me, then you will no longer have a heartbeat. 

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The Grove pt. ……

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June 16th 2016- ….

I hear and see the same things every day. Dark gray sky. Gray lake next to a large gray window. Everything is black, white, and gray. I have become permanently colorblind. 

I’m all alone here. I hate this place. I want to go home.

I miss my husband. I miss my family. They tell me that I don’t have a family. The white coats tell me that my family died a long time ago. The white coats tell me that I never had a husband. They tell me that I never went to college, never graduated from high school, never left home. 

They do terrible things to me. They told me that I killed my family. They tell me that I’m evil. They tell me I have killed more than 10 people. They keep me seated at all times, sometimes strapped down. They give me tasteless food…. I fall asleep every time I eat. I’m given three shots a day, loads of pills everyday… I’ve lost track of how many. Sometimes they hit me or force me to sit down in a corner on the floor if I don’t do exactly what they say. Sometimes they strap me down for hours and have me watch weird videos or listen to weird things… screaming and the sound of nails on metal…

scrape. scrape. scrape. shriek…. more scraping… shreik… T-they aren’t human.

They scare me. Their eyes glow unnaturally. They are pale and have long, black stringy hair. They all look the same to me. They aren’t human. They aren’t huummmmm-…..

I’m going to die here alone. I can’t tt-akke it. I…. ne.. ed to fin… a. way… out- (the rest is intelligible scribbles)

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