The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

I have some drama for you.

u/hollis_rae

My dad told me this story yesterday and figured y’all would get a kick out of it. This story takes place in the late 70s when my Dad (22) was living in an apartment complex.

The complex had massive potholes, ones that could swallow a car. After many, many complaints from tenants to get the potholes fixed the apartment complex decided to do something about it. They *notified everyone saying that rent would be raised so that they could cover the costs of fixing all the potholes.

That’s already frustrating but my dad was fine with it as long as they fixed the roads. Well they never fixed the potholes.

Also, the parking spot that was closest to my dad’s and a fellow tenants apartments was occupied by an abandoned truck. It was obviously abandoned and several people, including my dad, complained to the complex to get it towed. Well they never did anything about the truck.

So my dad and some fellow angry tenants decided to take matters into their own hands. They found the biggest pothole in the complex, broke into the truck, moved it to the pothole, and flipped it upside down into said pothole. The cab was in the pothole and the bed was hanging out. To finish it off, they made a sign that read “beware of potholes” and placed it on top of the upturned truck.

Edit: I’ve only ever lived in a world with email so my bad. It was a slip of the tongue and apparently I suck at proof reading. The point being, they notified the tenants of the rent increase.

r/nosleep
•Posted byu/EaPAtbp

If you see the bleeding woman, you're safe

As soon as I realized that I wasn’t going to make it home before dark, the anxiety set in. I felt like I had swallowed a weight; the feeling was heavy in the pit of my stomach. I picked up my pace as the darkness began to swallow my surroundings and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm my nerves but it did very little to help and I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my throat.

I switched my keys from my left hand to my right and wiped my sweaty palms on my leggings and wiggled my hands and fingers to try to dry some of the sweat.

The sound of a stray cat jumping onto a garbage can made me flinch in fear. I stopped as the cat crossed my path and looked around the street. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, and I couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. On one hand, there was no one around to do anything, so I was safe in a way. On the other hand, if someone did suddenly show up, there was no one else around to help me.

I was just starting to enjoy my walk; the weather was actually perfect for this time of year and I was beginning to feel a bit at peace when I noticed the truck.

It was devastatingly easy to miss and I tried not to think about what might have happened if I hadn’t noticed it.

The windows of the truck were tinted, the headlights were off, and every few seconds the truck inched forward down the street in my direction. For the time being, it was still quite a few feet away, but the reality of the situation was that there was no way I would be able to outrun a truck, and I started to wish there had been someone else on the street.

I was still about ten minutes from home, but I started to plan my next move. There was no way I could go home right now anyway, not with this person following me. The only thing worse than them following me down a random street was them following me straight to my house.

I switched my keys back to my left hand and wiped my right hand on my leggings. The anxiety was starting to creep in once again and all I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears as I periodically looked behind me, trying to keep an eye on the truck.

I watched as it pulled over in front of a shop and the engine turned off. I felt relieved for a second. Maybe I was exaggerating and the driver was simply looking for the shop all along. I took a few deep breaths and kept walking.

I glanced back once again to see a man get out of the truck. Instead of going into the shop though, he headed down the street, directly towards me, taking a quick glance up and down the empty street.

I began walking even faster as he jogged across the street.

“Hey!” He called.

I ignored him and griped my keys tighter as I tried to plan my next move.

“Hey, I just want to talk, come on.” He chuckled.

I didn’t say anything, and I felt like if I even opened my mouth I might throw up.

“Don’t be a fucking bitch.” He snapped.

I glanced back to see that he was catching up to me. He was maintaining a slight distance on purpose, to mess with me and he appeared to be smirking.

“Nice leggings.” He said when our eyes met.

I was closer to my house now, but I knew that I couldn’t actually go inside. I thought about taking my phone out of my backpack to call someone, but I didn’t I’d be able to take it out while trying to maintain the distance between myself and the man that was following me. I couldn’t risk doing anything that might slow me down, and so I kept walking with no idea as to what I was going to do.

Suddenly, I noticed a woman standing across the street and I felt a sudden rush of relief. She was standing next to a light post, and all I could really see was her silhouette. Her hair was long and she appeared to be wearing a dress. I looked back at the man who was still following me, but he didn’t even seem to notice her.

I crossed the street and made my way towards her, hoping that maybe he would see her and leave. Instead, he proceeded to cross the street as well. I looked over at the woman and as I got closer I began to notice that there was something off about her.

She was standing unusually still, with her hands at her side, and slightly hunched over. I noticed she was also standing in a puddle, even though it hadn’t rained here in weeks. When I was a few feet away from her, I realized that it wasn’t a puddle of water that she was standing in, but rather, a puddle of blood.

I slowed down, forgetting about the man who was still right behind me. I noticed now that the woman was wearing a nightgown that was covered in blood, from the middle of her chest to the bottom of the gown. I could tell that the wound was fresh, since none of the blood had dried yet, and it stuck to parts of her body while it dripped onto the puddle underneath her.

There was way too much blood on and around her, and I was fairly certain that there was no way she should even be alive. I stopped walking when I reached the edge of the sidewalk, not really knowing what to do. The woman stayed still as a statue, and I wasn’t even sure she was breathing.

I had forgotten about the fact that I was being followed until I felt a hand land over my mouth. I began to move around immediately, trying to get away, and I somehow managed to bite down on one of his fingers.

“What the fuck!” He exclaimed, letting go of me long enough for me to move away from him.

I looked over at the woman who finally lifted her head and looked towards me. Her face was covered in scratches and bruises, and the whites of her eyes were bright red, almost glowing.

I was frozen in place as I stared back at her until she broke eye contact fist and looked over at the man, taking a step towards him.

“Holy shit.” He said, finally noticing her.

He took a few steps backward, forgetting all about me, and stared at the bleeding, beat up woman that stood before him.

She continued to walk towards him, leaving a trail of blood as she moved. I watched as the man continued to walk backward down the street.

Suddenly, she ran at him and jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his torse and digging her fingers into his eyes.

He let out an incredibly loud scream and I watched as she pulled her fingers back and stuck them into her mouth, cleaning off all the blood.

The man fell onto his back and she fell with him, clasping her fingers together and then lifting her hands up before she swung down on his chest. I heard a sickening crunch and she began digging her fingers into his skin through his shirt, spreading it open to reveal his insides.

She glanced over at me and stopped for a second.

“Go home.” She said calmly and I took off.

I ran the rest of the way home, locking the door behind me and then making my way through the house to make sure the windows and doors were secure.

I couldn’t stop seeing the bleeding woman digging into the man’s chest, and I sat on the couch in the dark trying to get the image out of my head.

I felt nauseous and tired, but at the same time I couldn’t help but feel safe and I don’t know how, but I somehow knew that I’d see the bleeding woman again, and I felt safe knowing that she’d be there again if I ever needed her.

r/nosleep
•Posted byu/girl_from_the_crypt

My eyeballs just wouldn't stop itching.

I eased my finger under my eyelid, almost certain I was scraping the side of the socket. The tissue of my eyeball seemed to bend and flex around my fingertip. I let out a soft sigh as the itching subsided, knowing it was just for a short moment but ultimately trying to enjoy it as much as I could.

"Is it the contacts again?" Lloyd asked from behind me.

Upon turning around, I found him leaning in the doorframe, a sympathetic look on his face. I nodded. "I just took them out, but it still hurts. I don't know how you manage."

He shrugged. "I've worn lenses for longer than you, plus I can get used to about anything. Is it that bad?" He pushed off from the wall and walked towards me. I merely sighed in response. "Interesting fact, it might feel like your eyeballs are itching, but it's actually the inside of the lid coming into contact with the lenses that causes the discomfort."

"Oh yeah?"

"That's what I heard at least. Anything I can do to help?"

I held my arms out to him. "Comfort me?"

Lloyd gave me an exaggerated groan. "You're impossible," he muttered, but he leaned in to hold me anyways.

Lloyd and I moved in together because we had to; job reasons. Neither of us would be able to live on our own in a place like this one, so we begrudgingly agreed to support each other. I don't even think I liked him at all before this. However once spatial separation wasn't possible for us anymore, we were basically forced to get to know each other, and let's just say I'm glad he's my housemate these days.

This dangerous new environment we have both been subjected to is a picture-perfect suburban neighborhood. It might not sound like much of a negative change, but Lloyd and I had spent our whole lives in a compound, surrounded by countless other people living side by side, door to door, and yet most of them kept their distance to each other. Now our neighbors lived further away, yet they weren't prone to keep to themselves whatsoever. But I do like feeding the pigeons here, there's a whole lot of them. I think they're cute.

The next morning, I put in the contacts again, like every day. Lloyd was still asleep but I gave him a peck on the forehead before leaving. I would be starting my new cover job today. Basically, I'd be helping out at a small diner or bar and grill or whatever you want to call it. I would have to show up early to clean and prepare for opening. The drive there was uneventful and the shift manager, a friendly girl in her thirties, introduced me to some of the people I'd be working with.

The restaurant cared a lot about hygiene, so my first task was to wipe all the surfaces in the cooking area clean so they'd be ready to be used. A young guy called Marvin was helping me out and I asked him if the closing shift didn't clean up after themselves.

"Sure they do, but it's better to do it twice, you know," he replied and I nodded quickly. Of course. Stupid question. At least it was a start. Getting him talking had been my primary goal and it seemed to have worked. We kept on chatting and for a while, that really took my mind off the ever-present uncomfort presented by my contact lenses. However the second I remembered I was wearing them, the itching flared up with an unbearable intensity and I instinctively reached up to rub my eyes. I immediately regretted it. I was still wearing my gloves and the few leftover drops of disinfectant on them somehow made their way behind my lids in record time.

I let out an agonized squeak as I hurried to pull my fists away, tear off the gloves and make my way over to the sink. I formed a cup with my hands and allowed a tiny pool of water to flow into it which I then used to wash out my eyes as best I could.

"Are you okay?" I heard Marvin ask behind me.

I straightened up and blinked a couple times, small streams of water running down my cheeks. I let out a sigh of relief as I realized I could still feel the contact lenses in my eyes, hopefully still in place.

"Yeah, thanks," I muttered. "That was a bad idea just now."

He chuckled and we went on with our task. After a while, he spoke up again. "Your eyes are super pretty, you know."

A bit puzzled, I glanced over at him. He wasn't even looking at me, instead he seemed focused on wiping off a single spot on top of the counter. "Sorry, I don't wanna creep you out, but I've never seen anyone with eyes this blue before."

"Thanks," I replied, trying not to overthink the compliment.

"They're so bright too," he went on, lifting his head to look at me. For a moment or so, there was a strange intensity in his gaze. With an embarrassed chuckle, he added, "They look sort of unreal."

I swallowed. "Thanks," I repeated, a little taken aback this time.

"You're welcome," he said, giving me a barely noticeable wink.

This encounter had left me with an uncertain aftertaste. I told myself I was overreacting and that he was just being nice, but somehow, I felt so uneasy. When I finally arrived back at home, I told Lloyd all about it. Only after figuratively ripping out the contacts though.

Lloyd was leaning on the kitchen counter, a deep frown on his face while I was mixing us our work-issued nutritional supplement drinks. I didn't like their taste at all at first, but you get used to them after a while.

"So will you be seeing this guy all the time now?"

"Maybe not all the time, but like three or four days a week I think," I replied. A short period of silence ensued.

"What do you want me to say to that?" he eventually asked.

"I want you to tell me it's no big deal," I said, shrugging. "That I'm overreacting."

He sighed deeply. "You're overreacting. It's no big deal."

I smiled and thanked him but I didn't dare to ask how he actually felt about it. For all we knew though, I was right. We didn't have a lot of information about the people living here and our customs differed from theirs anyway. Maybe they were just always a little exuberant.

"So, did you bring back anything?"

"Sure did," I answered, walking over to my handbag and searching around in it before producing a crumpled plastic bag. Inside was the dirty washcloth I had used to clean up at work. I had pocketed it when nobody was looking. "I'm not sure if this is any help but it's still got the dirt from the counters on it. I didn't wash it out or anything."

"I'll see what I can get out of it. Let me look at it and then we can wash it clean so you can take it back there. It's petty but we need to be careful."

I agreed and left him to his business. When I returned to work the day after in the evening, I put the cloth back where I had gotten it. I started by emptying the trash bins in the bathroom. I had volunteered to clean up in there by myself so nobody would see me going through the garbage cans. I actually found something useful–a piece of chewed up bubblegum wrapped in a bit of toilet paper. I quickly fished it out and wrapped it up in one of my latex gloves. I put a knot in it and stuffed it into my pocket before returning to my task.

When I was done, I went to take the trash out through the backdoor. I nearly dropped the bags I was carrying when I found myself face to face with Marvin. I gasped and he instantly took a step back, raising his hands apologetically. "Sorry! Gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I was just gonna have a smoke." He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and held it out to me for show.

I let out a sigh of relief. "It's okay, my bad. I shouldn't have–I don't know, it's getting dark and I know there's a fence around this backyard here but it's still giving me some shady vibes," I stammered, readjusting my grip on the trash bags.

Marvin chuckled. "It's cool. Hey, let me give you a hand." He reached out for two of the trash bags before walking ahead to the large dumpster and holding it open for me. After he dropped the ones I'd handed him inside, he turned around and wiped his hands on his pants.

"You get off soon, don't you?" he asked.

"In an hour," I replied slowly.

"My shift ended a little while ago but I sometimes come around here to get a cigarette in before I go home. Would you like to do something when you're off?" he asked.

He was smiling, but there was this intensity in his stare again. I swallowed, the itch in my eyes flaring up. I instinctively raised my hands to rub my eyes, but I didn't dare to press too hard seeing as I didn't want to move my contact lenses so I opted to simply jab the tip of my fingernails into the corners of my eyes. "I'm sorry but I can't. I need to get home right away afterwards."

He frowned. "No worries. Maybe another time."

"Sure, I'd like that," I told him, a forced smile on my face.

I could feel his eyes on me as I turned around and left. Coming home to Lloyd that night was comforting. He had cooked dinner, or at least he had tried to; and when we sat down to eat I told him about my encounter.

"Do you still want me to say you're overreacting?" he asked softly.

I shook my head. "It's so weird. I should feel flattered, or at least… I don't know. He's polite, he helped me with the trash, he compliments me… why am I scared of him?"

"Look, what I didn't tell you yesterday is that you should listen to your gut. You know how we are. We're sensitive. If you have a bad feeling about this man, it's there for a reason, and even if it's not–you still don't feel good around him. So avoid him." Leaning back in his chair, he stared up at the ceiling. "Do you have the phone number of any of your other co-workers?"

I nodded and he hummed. "Call one. Ask if Marvin was actually in to work today."

I felt a lump form in my throat. I did as he'd advised me and called Miranda, a nice girl I'd shared a shift with on my first day as well. I could call her a friend, I suppose. She was surprised to hear me ask, but told me that that day was Marvin's day off. When I had hung up and turned to Lloyd again, he had a grim look on his face.

"Okay," I muttered. "There could still be an explanation for this, you know. Maybe he swapped shifts with someone. It could be the most innocent thing." But I realized my palms were beginning to sweat.

"Or maybe," Lloyd replied, his voice as calm as ever, "you should focus on that possibility later and wonder what the worst case scenario would be."

"The backyard is fenced in. There's a fence around where the dumpsters are. There's this gate they open when the trash gets picked up, but it's only then that they open it and the manager's got the key. So if Marvin wasn't in today, and he wasn't covering for anyone… well, I guess he could have gone in through the front and then out back, it's not illegal or anything and he does work there…"

"Or he jumped the fence," Lloyd said.

"This is getting out of hand," I argued. "This, this right here is overreacting. I'm sure he covered for someone. Why should a random guy I've only known for a day be targeting me?"

"You're right," he replied. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have scared you. Guess I was just a bit worried."

I calmed down pretty quickly. It was easy to write all this off to me not understanding body language. After all, the thing that had made me most uncomfortable about Marvin was the way he looked at me and how he was always standing so close. I shrugged the whole thing off again. I was a stranger, so was Lloyd. You know how it is, new town, new people, culture clash.

The following days would go on to be quite laborious. I kept collecting samples from work. I made swabs of the edges of used glasses, pocketed used tissues here and there and tried to work as normal. But whenever Marvin shared the shift with me, I was a nervous wreck. It was his little comments here and there I guess. He kept inviting me out in what I suppose was a pleasant manner but somehow, everytime he did I was left feeling more uncomfortable. His compliments got weirder, too. They were still centered around my eyes and while it should be impossible, I somehow found them concerning.

I think Lloyd may have noticed my change in demeanor before I did. At first, he didn't say anything, but after two times of me coming home giving him nothing but a quiet "hi" and throwing my samples at him before retreating to my room without so much as eating dinner, he came knocking on my door.

"You haven't been yourself lately," he said, eyes soft with worry. "It's this guy, right? He's really scaring you."

I didn't reply at first, I just nodded. "Kinda. Maybe. I don't know. I wish I could have another cover job or something. It's okay though, I'm gonna get through this. It's just another month before they come to pick us up. I'll suck it up, it'll be fine."

"It's not fine." He sighed. "In case I haven't made it obvious, I like you a lot. I like you so much it hurts when you're not well."

I snorted. "It's called empathy. You're probably confused because it's not very common among you analysts."

He gave me a half-smile and jabbed at my arm with his finger. "I'd ask you to tell your manager or whatever but I'm guessing that would draw some attention. And I won't lie to you, chances of getting clearance for a different cover job are slim. I suppose we'll have to deal with this ourselves."

Back then, I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but when I was working the counter alongside Marvin the day after that and saw him walking through the door, it dawned on me. He looked about as out of place as it could get. Everything about him was so bright, it looked like he was shining. His bleach blond hair, the pale skin and the light gray overcoat. The only thing out of place were the eyes which looked just as blue as my own.

There was nobody else waiting to be served at the time so he came right up to us. Before he even said anything, I saw Marvin's face fall.

Lloyd smiled and gave me a quick nod before turning to my co-worker. "Are you Marvin?"

He nodded, but despite his apparent confusion, he instantly turned to me. "Yeah… do you two know each other?"

"We do. As a matter of fact, I'm her… that thing…" Lloyd frowned, fumbling for words. "I'm auditioning to marry her," he eventually explained, looking mighty proud of himself.

"You mean you're her boyfriend," Marvin said.

"Oh, that was the word. Yes. Anyways, she might not have been able to communicate this to you, but you're creeping her out. I'm asking you on her behalf to leave her alone from now on."

"Man, did I?" Marvin turned to face me. Somehow, the confounded look in his eyes made me feel like he was faking it. "I'm sorry, you could have told me."

"Anyways," Lloyd went on, leaving me no time to respond, "I'm here to pick you up. We need to get home this instant. There's been an emergency. I'll tell you about it on the way."

I obediently took off my apron and walked around the counter to his side, apologizing to Marvin and pretending to be nervous as best I could. I could tell Lloyd made up the emergency-thing, but something had to be wrong for him to suddenly remove me from work like that.

Marvin's reaction was surprisingly careless. He told me he could handle the shift on his own and wished us luck, but even stranger, he followed us outside.

"You two look really alike," he called out.

"Yes, we're siblings," Lloyd answered over his shoulder. I stomped on his foot as hard as I could. He caught himself quickly. "I was joking," he corrected himself. "I don't know what you mean."

We continued down the street, me holding onto his arm. "Why did you come?"

"I think we have to book it. You can't go back there. Something's off about this guy. He might be onto us."

"Yeah, you were certainly helping us stay low," I muttered. "Siblings. Why siblings of all things?"

"I was working with what I had," he protested. "You know I'm no good at this. You're the mediator."

"It's okay. But I'm starting to think I really can't go back there now."

"What language is that?"

Both Lloyd and I spun around at the sound of that voice. There was Marvin, standing right behind us, still in his apron. I think my heart must have stopped for a moment.

"Why did you follow us?" I yelled once I had caught my breath again.

"What language were you two speaking just now?" he repeated.

"Stay the fuck away from us," I growled, ignoring Lloyd who was pulling on my sleeve, urging me to move on.

"What language was that?" he asked again.

When Lloyd grabbed me by the arm and started to run, I let him drag me along. "It's over," he panted after a few minutes. "You're not going back there, neither am I. I'll issue a distress call and demand a change in location as soon as we get home. I'll tell them either they pick us up right away and let us start over somewhere new or I'll destroy the samples we've got so far and they can… I don't know, put it where the sun don't shine."

"I'm so sorry," I breathed. I don't like to admit it, but I was starting to cry. I knew I was going to get into trouble. "I totally blew it. I really tried though, I swear."

Lloyd stopped to give me a hug. "It's okay, we'll blame it on that idiot in the shop. It's not your fault. Sometimes, you just come across people who are a little more inquisitive than others." Having left the diner behind, we fell into a slower pace. "Before we got here I talked to a bunch of other analysts, and one told me that a mediator she was once sent out with got drunk, pissed on a cop car and ended up close to coma because… well, you know how we react to alcohol. Long story short, the guy was obnoxious and raised about as much attention as you could, but they still got away with their cover intact. It's pure chance, really. And who listens in on other people talking anyways? That guy isn't right in the head."

That calmed me down a bit. When we got home, I started packing up our things, except Lloyd's gear–he has all of these fancy electronic devices that are super fragile so I didn't dare to touch them. I heard him talking to our boss in the room over while I was at work. His tone was both humble and decisive. He was actually going through with what he'd promised.

"Yes, ma'am, I do think it's necessary… as soon as possible. Can you send out a shuttle tonight? It's really urgent, the person in question has been displaying hostile demeanor… No. Let me stop you right there. With all due respect, ma'am, if you need someone to blame, I'm your guy. I literally barged into her place of work today and to be frank, I was very tactless. I would have never done so if it had been unwarranted, of course. She's endured this situation longer than she should have anyways." He paused for a little longer after that, and when he answered again, he sounded pleased.

"That's a relief. And don't worry, I'm sure you'll find our results sufficient. We may have been forced to end this study early, but I wouldn't call it a complete failure. Although we might want to avoid this town in the future." Another short period of silence. "Got it. We'll be there."

A few seconds later, I heard him sigh and mumble "well, fuck you too". I assumed he had ended the call. When he came strolling into the living room, he was smiling nonetheless.

"How'd it go?" I asked.

"You heard," he replied lazily. "She wasn't exactly pleased but she didn't put up much resistance. Not like there was anything else she could have done anyways."

"Thanks for taking the blame," I said.

Lloyd shrugged and looked away. "I was being truthful. You were doing a good job. Anyways, the shuttle is going to pick us up at four am on the drop off site. Means we still have a few hours. Do you want to go around town and say goodbye to those pigeons you befriended?"

I felt a little conflicted about leaving but I did want to go out one last time. Lloyd assured me he'd be fine packing up our remaining belongings. For one last time, I put in those damned contact lenses before heading out the door. I wandered the streets for a good few hours. When the sun started to set, I found myself in a part of town I was barely familiar with. I admit I was getting a bit nervous, so I instantly turned around and tried to find my way back. There seemed to be no one else but me outside at this hour. I had left my cell phone at home too, otherwise I might have looked it up or called Lloyd for emotional support.

After a bit of walking, I noticed something strange–whenever I slowed down or stayed still for a short moment, there'd be steps ringing out somewhere behind me. At first, I thought it was something like an echo. The possibility of somebody following me was too unsettling to consider. However I could not shake the feeling of dread creeping up inside me. More than once, I turned around to look at the street behind me, but I found it empty every time. Just once I thought I saw a figure vanishing behind a house.

Still, I forced myself to stay calm. It was my nerves acting up, I told myself. I had had a hard day after all. And then my eyes started to itch again. I stopped in my tracks and reached up to give them a good rub, but instead of offering relief, I felt a sharp sting. I let out a sharp hiss and pulled back immediately. I felt hot tears run down my cheeks. It had never hurt this much. I tried to blink, but I found that just opening my eyes caused them to burn. It was like someone was pouring bleach under my lids. I was too distracted to hear my attacker coming up to me, and when he grabbed me from behind and pulled me to the ground, I was too startled to even scream.

My head hit the ground and I let out a cry of pain which was muffled by the hand I suddenly found pressed over my mouth. Even in the darkness, I recognized the face hovering above mine immediately. Marvin was staring down at me, his stare cold and calculative. My mind was racing. There weren't any houses around where we were at, and even those I could see in the distance had their lights off. I struggled, trying to get up, but Marvin sat down on my thighs, straddling me and effectively keeping me from getting to my feet.

My hands were still free so I swung my fist at him. I missed his face by just a few inches. He reached behind his back and pulled out something that only registered as a knife when I felt the blade scraping the soft, vulnerable skin over my throat. I fell limp instantly. All I could do was look up at him, my vision blurry with tears. Somewhere in the back of my head, I wondered if my contacts were still in place.

"Don't say a word," he uttered, his voice deeper and more rugged than I remembered. Slowly, ever so slowly, he removed his hand from my mouth. "I know what you are. You and your… male."

"We're not here to hurt anyone," I breathed. "Leave me alone, please…"

"You think I'm just going to believe you?" he asked, sounding both amused and weirdly distant. "You are not getting away with this. I noticed the contacts the second you walked in. Let's see how your eyes look without them, why don't we. Put your arms behind your back."

I considered disobedience, but the cold steel against my neck caused me to comply. Groaning, I twisted my arms into a painfully contorted position between my body and the hard ground. Marvin nodded in approval and pulled up his knee to press it down on my stomach. I squeaked as his weight added to mine and put even more pressure onto my arms. He took away the knife and placed it between his teeth before reaching out and pulling apart the upper and lower lid of my left eye.

"Don't… let me go, please," I begged in a quiet, pathetic tone.

He didn't respond. Instead, he moved in his thumb and pointer finger and grabbed onto the contact lense. I squirmed beneath him as he squeezed it, its edges scraping the surface of my eyeball. I let out a cry of agony as he ripped it out, seemingly trying to make it hurt as much as possible. I was breathing heavily, tears running freely down my face. Marvin tossed away the lense and pulled out his phone. He pulled my lids apart once again and turned on its flashlight. The brightness was blinding, painful.

But it was worth it. Because for a short moment, he shrunk back, shifting his weight. I took this chance to push myself up. This took him by surprise apparently, because he fell back. My hands free, I reached out to grab the knife from his mouth. I hadn't thought I could make it, but I managed to yank it away from him, scratching the side of his face in the process. I staggered to my feet, backing off while holding out the knife in front of me.

Despite my panic, I couldn't help but feel an odd sense of relief that this awful tiny little thing was out of my eye, even though it was just the one. I was thinking feverishly, trying to decide what to do. I couldn't let him go. He'd follow me, tear me down again. Who knows what he'd do to me. I needed to incapacitate him, to hurt him. I hated it. I was weeping all the way back home and when Lloyd found me on the doorstep with red, swollen cheeks, panting heavily and a blood-smeared knife clenched in my fist, I didn't have to explain too much. At least we had a blood sample too now.

We set out for the drop off site early and now we're just sitting around waiting, basically. I managed to calm down a little bit, enough to write this at least. Consider this my goodbye letter to earth. I enjoyed it here, despite the culture clash. I took out a human man and I just want to say I'm so, so sorry. I don't know a lot about the human body, I'm just a mediator after all and not even a very experienced one, but I think I didn't injure him severely. I don't blame him for misunderstanding our intent. He saw me acting weird and drew some extreme conclusions, sadly the correct ones. I hope they find him quickly, but I know that by the time they will, both Lloyd and I will be gone.

I don't think I'll get in trouble for writing this, especially since I'm going to throw away the phone they gave me for this study trip anyways. So I guess I can tell you guys that last little detail too. I was wearing colored contacts because while my species' build and general outward appearance resembles that of yours very closely, you'd be able to tell us apart from your kind the second you'd lay eyes on us. You see, we don't have irises.

Once again it is time to post a Story time brought you you by u/Darkly_Gathers in r/nosleep

There is a portrait that hangs in my grandmother’s house that bleeds at night, from the frame.


My youngest cousin is the one who first found the portrait. He was exploring the house at night, as he often does when the family is gathered together, and he stumbled across it on one of his expeditions.

The boy was frantic the next morning. Wouldn’t stop babbling about his discovery to everyone.
Well, to us kids, at least. He didn’t tell the adults. I think he was afraid of getting into trouble. It’s a massive house, and Grandma always told us not to wander around; especially on the upper floors.

He’s been a bullshitter all his life, has Mason, so you’ll forgive me for initially disregarding his claims as nonsense. I just rolled my eyes and went back to my book. My sister and my other cousin were playing Mario Kart, and barely even registered him at all. But he kept insisting. Kept waving around his hands and getting all up in our faces. He swore on his life, his LIFE, that he was telling the truth, and the doubt started to set in. I admit, I was curious. We all were, a little. So after an impassioned plea for support, we caved, and to Mason’s glee we came up with a plan. A plan that would involve waiting until all the grown-ups had gone to sleep, and then sneaking out of our rooms to find this supposed ‘bleeding portrait’.

So this is where we find ourselves now. My sister and I, flashlights in hands, sneaking out of our room and down the corridor to knock on our cousins’ door. We should be okay; the adults’ rooms are on the opposite side of the house... But you never know who could be up and about.

We don’t need to knock, in the end. The door is slightly ajar, and with a quiet push and a soft creak, we head on in, to reveal the boys all ready and waiting for us. Mason is whispering excitedly to his brother, who tries and fails to hush him, repeatedly.

“Okay guys”, Mason says to us. “Are you ready? Flashlights off for now. Come on, let’s go!” And he pulls open his door and sneaks off into the dark.

Exchanging glances, we click off our lights, and follow.

Our grandma’s house is so big that there are multiple sets of stairs for each floor, and we creep towards the back of the house now, to a set of stairs that’s rarely used. Less chance of bumping into one of our parents or aunts or uncles. I can hear the faint sounds of snoring echo from far down the corridor.

The staircase seems much taller at night, and we look up at it nervously, hearts pounding with the thrill of doing something you’re not supposed to, beneath the added excitement and mystery of the veil of darkness. Heavy, deep-colored steps ascend into the gloom; the infamous forbidden floors lie above…

“I’m scared, Charlotte”, my sister whispers to me, clutching my sleeve, but I shush her and tousle her hair. Mason tiptoes onto the lowest of the steps, and up he climbs. He’s done this before, supposedly. But for us, this is a venture into the unknown.

Up we go, slowly, carefully, step by shaky step… Molly my sister clutching tight to my hand, Mason leading the way, and my other cousin, Ethan, close beside.

The stairs lead us into a corridor of thick-shadowed and watchful furniture. Towering cupboards stand maliciously on either side as we make our way through it. Portraits of figures unknown stare down at us from their perches up above…

“Which one of them is the bleeding one, Mason?” I whisper.

“None of these… We have to go a little further…” he replies, so we pass the paintings by.

There are no windows up here, in this hidden section of the house… but the wind whistling beyond the walls is loud and close enough to send a second-hand shiver rippling right through me.

The portraits stare down at me, with warning in their eyes.

…I look away.

“Here, check it out”, Mason whispers, and leads us abruptly to the right, into a long and narrow corridor, with nothing on the walls at all. No windows, no doors, except for one: old and cracked, at the very far end.

“What the fuck bro…” Ethan mutters, and I smack his arm lightly for swearing. He winces, but speaks on: “You came up to this place all by yourself? What’s wrong with you?”

Mason only grins. “I ain’t a chicken, Ethan. That’s all. Come on, this is the way”.

And he clicks on his flashlight as he leads us down the corridor. We do the same. The shadow that Mason casts is flickering and long, and shudders up the walls, distorted by the ceiling as he walks.

The door, as we approach, is a dark, brown-black wood, but it’s unlocked, so Mason tucks his flashlight under his arm, grabs the handle with both hands, and eases it open. We cringe in panic as a long and low creak reverberates through the walls… But we hear nothing else stir down below. Only the faintest hint of the wind outside, now almost imperceptible.

So we head inside. One by one, into the room.



The walls are black. Windowless. And the room is full with wooden chairs. All stood upright, but facing in a myriad of directions, with no cohesion or order to their placement. Two identical dark wardrobes stand against the walls, one to my left, one to my right, facing each other, and an old gasp lamp sits on a little round table in the corner besides a collection of coasters, and an old match-box.

The far wall is bare but for a single item. A lone, framed portrait, right in the centre. A painting of a grimacing old woman.

The shadows painted across her face make her winkles seem greater, and deeper.

“This is the one…” says Mason excitedly in a low voice, gently pushing aside the chairs as he makes his way across the room.

Every step… every step closer to that ghastly painting, and I feel the dread within me grow.

My sister clutches to me a little tighter. “Charlotte…” she whispers, but her voice sounds as if it’s coming from far away…

Mason halts at the base of the portrait, looking up at it, and the rest of stand behind him a few paces back. We stare at it in contemplative, cold silence.

Then Mason swivels on the spot, loudly claps his hands, and the spell is broken. We jump back in fright.

“Fuck’s sake, Mason!” Ethan mutters, and I’m too rattled to chastise him for it this time. I just let the fear wash over me and try to bring myself back into the moment.

“Weird, right?” Mason asks, rhetorically, scratching his chin and turning back to the painting, casting his light across it. “All by itself in this old room…. It looks kind of like Grandma, don’t you think?”

I chew my tongue. I study the grimacing old woman, lips pressed tight. It does look a bit like her, actually. Not identical, but similar enough for a resemblance. “Is it supposed to be her, do you think?” I ask the group.

“Maybe that’s why she hid it away, cause she was embarrassed by it and didn’t want anyone to see it?” suggests Ethan.

“I dunno”, I reply. “Wouldn’t she have just thrown it away if she didn’t want it? Why would she bother hanging it on the wall? She didn’t even lock the door”.



“Oh, the door was locked”, replies Mason matter-of-factly, and for reasons unknown to me, a wave of goosebumps shiver across my skin.



“What do you mean, locked?” asks my little sister.

He shrugs. “Pretty self-explanatory. I had to pick the lock. Wasn’t hard. I’ve been practising”.

“So we’re not even supposed to be in here at all then?” I ask him, glancing back up to the painting. “Maybe we should go…”

“No, wait, look, I haven’t even shown you the bleeding yet! That’s why we’re here!” Mason steps closer to the painting and reaches out a hand to the wall, tracing his fingers across the surface just below the painting’s frame. He pulls back and shines the flashlight over his skin. I squint as the light passes my field of vision but lean closer, peering at his hand. His fingertips are marked with a sticky, dark substance. Like sap, or tar, or…

“Blood…” he whispers.

Ethan clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “That isn’t blood you dope. It’s just… It’s wall residue or something”.

“Wall residue!?” Mason replies, “what the hell is wall residue?”

I sigh and look away, glancing back up to the horrible painting.

I look at the old woman’s eyes.

The whites are visible above her irises.

Her teeth, yellow and cracked, are stretched wide into a grin.



Teeth.

Grin.



I cry out in sudden alarm, a gasp of such genuine terror that the conversation in the room is silenced at once. Buds of sweat begin to form down my back.

“Guys…” I whisper, struggling to get out the words… “The woman in the p-painting, she wasn’t smiling a minute ago, right? You couldn’t see her teeth?”

“No…” Ethan whispers back with a croak, as we stare at the portrait. “No she wasn’t”.

“Guys, I think we need to go”, I stammer, retreating backwards through the room, heart pounding and pulse racing feverishly as the chairs are pushed away, scraping across the wood… The others do likewise, and we bump as a group back up against the door… Only it’s closed now. I don’t remember closing it behind us.

And I can’t find the handle.

I scrabble for it madly, fearful to take my eyes away from the painting, but unable to locate it I am eventually forced to do so, and it isn’t there. The handle is gone.

“Where is it?” I hiss, “Where is it?”

“There!” cries Molly, pointing up, “it’s up there!” And looking up, sure enough, the handle can be seen; it’s moved… Right at the very top of the door, and well beyond our reach.



The floor creaks.



We spin back around as one to face the portrait, flashlight beams cast upon it…

…But the portrait is empty. The frame holds nothing but a dark and unoccupied painted scene.



And for a moment there is silence.



Silence that is broken by the sound of scuttling across the ceiling.

I lift my beam and tilt my head to look above, and the light lands on an enormous millipede, with the face of the woman from the painting. Staring down at me.

The face holds my gaze. It stretches wide into a grin. And then the nightmare moves. Fast. Hundreds of quivering, knife-like legs rattling and scratching their way across the ceiling and down the closest wall towards us.

And I scream. We all do. Panic and chaos takes hold as we crash and clamber through the chairs, crying and shouting out loud for help, Ethan is slamming and kicking the door… Molly… Where is Molly? She’s scrambling over to the far corner… And the nightmarish abomination from the portrait slithers and scuttles over and around the chairs, eyes wide, hissing as it approaches me…

“STAY BACK!” I shriek, grabbing one of the chairs and holding it out in front of me as a weapon, my hands shaking… But she’s getting closer, closer and closer…

A chair thrown by Ethan flies across the room and strikes the millipede on the head. Her grin does not falter, but her eyes.. her eyes seem to grotesquely shift their placement in her face with the impact… The creature turns in a circle, scuttling back towards Ethan.

Think, Charlotte, THINK! WHAT DO I DO!?

Molly has returned to the door. Mason is holding a chair steady by its base as she balances another on top of it, desperately trying to climb up to reach the handle…

“FUCK, FUCK!” Ethan shouts as the millipede races towards him; he staggers back, wildly waving a chair in his hands, jabbing and slamming it against the creature’s head…

I do as Ethan had done, I grunt with effort as I hoist up another of the many chairs, flinging it across the room where it smashes against the monster’s back. One of its eyes rolls around in its socket to face me, and it changes direction once again…

I need to think… But I can’t… I can’t think… Molly and Mason struggle to reach the handle… a little more time, they just need a little more time… and as I stumble backwards, my hip bumps against the little table in the corner. I turn to it as the gas-light wobbles, and I grab it.

“ETHAN!” I shout, “the painting! Can you bring down the portrait?”

Ethan nods and quickly pushes his way through the chairs as I haul open the door to the nearest wardrobe, banging the door shut behind me and holding it tightly closed as the millipede hisses and scratches hungrily on the outside. It gnaws and claws, but gives up after a minute, and I hear it scuttle away through the chairs. I gather my courage and push the door open and jump back into the room.

Ethan has managed to tear the portrait from the wall, and I watch as he throws it to the floor.

“NAUGHTY CHILDREN SHOULDN’T ENTER LOCKED ROOMSSSSS”, the monster hisses, her voice rough and warbled.

“Now what Charlotte!?” he yells at me, running round in a circle and away from the creature.

“STAND CLEAR! I’M- I’M GOING TO DESTROY THE PORTRAIT!” I shout back.

Maybe that’ll stop it. Maybe that’ll destroy the monster!

“DO IT!” he screams, as the millipede stops. It cracks the upper segments of its body around to stare at me, ever-grinning as I flick the gas-light on. It steams and hisses, and in a shaking hand, I go to strike one of the matches.

It snaps in two.

“QUICK CHARLOTTE!” Ethan cries out as the millipede approaches. It’s a long room, but not that long… and I can see it get closer and closer out of the corner of my eye… the heavy scratchings and scuttlings of its legs getting louder and louder…

I try lighting another.

And mercifully, this one catches.

I bring it to the gas in a shaking hand, and it lights in an instant.

Then, with all my might, I hurl the little lamp down onto the portrait.

It explodes in a small but powerful burst of fire, and I have to shield my eyes for a moment with the blast of light.

A high-pitched shriek rings out around the room as a hundred flickering shadows are suddenly cast up and all around, there’s too much movement, I can’t work out what’s going on…

…And then the door to the room swings open. Molly has reached the handle and has pulled it tight, kicking her legs in the air as she brings the door round, then she falls, and Mason catches her with a grunt.

“COME ON CHARLOTTE!” Ethan shouts at me. I swivel my head from side to side, looking for the monster… But I can’t see it. It has vanished. So with one last look at the burning portrait I run through the room, joining the others and sprinting back out into the corridor, slamming the door tight shut behind us.

Back through the dark corridors we run, slamming into furniture as we do so, scrambling back down the stairs to safety…

..And at the bottom, a shadowed figure awaits.

We scream and collapse into a heap, sprawling into a pile at the bottom as the figure becomes clear.



…Grandma.



“What the… what in God’s name are you kids doing out of bed?” she asks, adjusting her glasses. “Didn’t I tell you not to go up to that floor?”

We babble incoherently and over each other, all speaking at once until she can calm us down. And once she has, we explain what we saw. We come clean. We tell her we found the painting. We tell her that we were attacked by a monster. We get to the point where I hid in the wardrobe, and she interrupts.

“Oh goodness, oh goodness me”, she says shakily, drawing us into a hug. “Mason… that was a very foolish thing you did, unlocking the door like that… It’s dangerous, that room. Very dangerous indeed! It was locked for a good reason! And you must promise me NEVER to go up there again, EVER!”

“Of course Grandma!” I reply; we all do. “Never again!”

“I’m just so glad that you’re safe…” she murmurs. “And you’re safe now, I promise you”.

“But, but we need to go back up; we need to lock the door!” stammers Mason, “just to be sure!”

“You don’t need to worry about that”, says Grandma. “Even if the door were left wide open… She cannot leave the room. That’s what the portrait is for”.

There is a pause.

“What- what do you mean?” I ask her.

“The portrait keeps her bound to the room… So everything is just fine”, says Grandma. “Just as long as the portrait remains hung on the wall, then she cannot leave the room”.

I look to Ethan, and my blood runs cold.



Grandma adjusts her glasses.

“Why? …You didn’t damage the portrait, did you?”