Here’s A Really Unique Take On Snuff Films Called I’m Never Shooting Another Snuff Film. Definitely

Fantastic ending but Jesus did it catch me off guard.

Karen’s Diner

Karen’s Diner: Where our burgers are mean and our staff are meaner!

“Are you fuckin morons gonna stand there gawking at our sign all day?!”

The young couple, having just wandered into the near-empty diner from the highway outside, flinch at my rude outburst—before descending into giggles.

“See, Sarah, I told you we should eat here!” says the man excitedly to his partner. “This waiter is hilarious!”

“Oi, dickhead!” I bark, thrusting menus into his chest. “Go sit in that booth and shut the fuck up.”

Exchanging amused looks, the pair take a seat at said booth while other waiters flip them off from across the diner. I take the opportunity to eavesdrop by aggressively wiping the table beside them.

“So, the whole gimmick is that the staff are nasty to us?” asks the woman sceptically. “How dumb, Chris. And what’s a ‘Karen’?”

“You know—abrasive, selfish, entitled assholes. Karens. Anyway, novelty aside, the menu looks great! All our favourite meals are on it.”

“Gonna order something, dipshits?” interrupts a scowling waitress with a notepad.

Thirty minutes later, we bring their food out. Setting the plates on their table, I elbow a soda glass straight into the woman’s lap. She yelps as freezing ice drenches her clothes.

“Oops, clumsy me” I sneer, eating a fry off her club sandwich.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man shouts, flabbergasted.

“So soweee” mocks the waitress, spitting in his spaghetti.

“Okay, this is going too far…” the woman murmurs. But it’s far too late for them to stop it.

At once, the waitstaff begin pelting the couple with glassware. Terrified, the pair’s complaints become shrieks as sharp projectiles lacerate their skin.

“Help! I want the manager!” screams the bleeding man, attempting to leave the booth. In response, I slam his head into his plate, splitting open his cheek.

Joining in the carnage, my fellow waitress uses a steak knife to slash chunks of hair from the screaming woman’s scalp.

“You can’t treat us like this!” they sob defeatedly. “We’re patrons!”

Us “waiters” just turn to each other and laugh.

That’s where they’re wrong. They’re no customers.

They’re death row inmates.

Back in the dark days, every prisoner was entitled to a last meal of their choosing—no matter how undeserving. Meanwhile, the cost of executing killers kept going up. Eventually, government officials had an idea.

Why not kill two birds with one stone?

Grab death row inmates, wipe their memories, drop them at a diner across from the prison, serve them their last meals, have the victims’ family members perform as malicious servers and…execute monsters.

And so Karen’s Diner was born—named after the last child to be savaged by criminals before society stepped up its justice system.

“This is for my daughter” I seethe, inching towards the maimed, memory-wiped convicts in the booth. ”The girl you killed.”

“This is for Karen.”

Found this really awesome tale on r/shortscarystories called Forget Me Not by RustySunset. Might even be one of my favorite Reddit stories ever.

2 really good mystery thrillers about mother/daughter relationships that I really enjoyed. Happy Mother’s Day :>

You're going for a stroll in the woods one day when you see a person approaching you on the same path you're walking on. From afar it looks like they don't have a face. That's a funny illusion, you think to yourself, but as you pass them you realize they actually don't have a face. Less than a minute later you see the same person approach again, exactly as they had a few seconds ago, and this happens another time, and then again and again, and you realize it's not just the faceless person that is the same. You hear the same exact bird chirps in the same exact order with regular intervals, go past the same trees including a tree stump with a cluster of mushrooms on it and a small ant hill. You want to stop and get your bearings but you can't stop, you just keep walking, passing by the same things and the same person over and over. You're starting to realize something about this person, too, that you hadn't realized before for some reason. They're wearing the exact same clothes you're wearing, they have the same hair, they're basically you. Somehow you know your face is beginning to disappear too, little by little, but you can't check because you can't stop walking and your arms won't stop moving in step with your feet. Soon your face is entirely gone just like the other person's face but you keep walking. You don't remember a time when you weren't strolling through these woods, seeing these same things over and over. You don't remember a time when you had a face.

If you’re into the silly yet eerie strange rule trend on r/nosleep one of my favorites is this story about a cinema usher named Shaun who’s theater has some strange rules he needs to follow. I get why some people would find this repeated trope super annoying but I find some of these stories strangely riveting.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜

There was a space.

A space between the walls.

It was there when we moved in. Me and my dog. Just us

Right at the end of the hallway. You could barely see it. Just where the house turned, where the light barely reached. Barely casted a shadow.

I didn’t think nothing of it.

—

All I wanted was to retrieve the dog toy.

It had just happened to roll down the hall. It didn’t mean to.

Honest.

It was his favorite ball. He just flung it, it couldn’t be helped.

—

I went down the hall. It had to have bounced somewhere. It was bright yellow - the obnoxious kind of ball that squeaked broken when it was chewed.

The kind that lit up fluorescent when light shone on it.

I used my phone flashlight, assuming it had rolled under a cabinet or the vase by the bathroom.

None.

I looked everywhere.

Well, until I caught the bit of yellow in the corner.

I crouched, directing my phone light.

There it was.

On the ground, at the end. In the space in the wall.

—

I reached for it with my arm. I got to shoulder length, collarbone smushed against the wall.

No avail.

Out of reach.

My phone goes between my teeth, flashlight shining partially in the flesh of my cheek and in the expanse of nothingness. But there was the ball.

It looked like an easy fit.

—

I slotted my arm through. Easy shuffle, and next dips my chest. I had to suck in, but I fit. Phone still in my mouth, flash still on the ball.

My hips, my legs.

My face.

My body.

I can get in, I can get out.

—

I shuffle.

Nudging the toy with the sole of my foot.

It squeaks, defeated.

—

My fingers grip the wood in front of me, pressing into it and shimmying. Got to get out.

That damned ball.

It rolls to the very end, where I came out of.

Not all the way, but there.

Perfect.

—

It was suffocating feeling. Being between the two walls was becoming panicking.

Like sand being stuffed into your lungs. Filling your throat and weighing you down.

First came the shakes.

Then the fear. Frantic movements when I realized no, I cannot get out the way I came in.

I cannot get out.

Heavy breathing. Saliva coating the back of my phone, still in my mouth.

It was in my mouth.

At some point.

I don’t remember when I dropped it, I just remember that it fell.

I remember being stupid enough to crawl into a space that wasn’t meant for people.

—

I remember staring at something other than the bit of light that shines from the entry way. Head stuck tilted to the left, check pressed against the splintered wood paneling.

In the direction of that damned dog-toy, the bright yellow faded into a dust-covered grey.

The dog just comes and stares. Waiting.

Waiting for the ball that neither of us couldn’t quite reach.

Or, he used to.

He doesn’t come by anymore.

I don’t see my dog anymore.

I don’t hear my dog anymore.

—

I Think Someone’s Watching Me Through the TV Reflection

I don’t know if anyone will believe me, and honestly, I don’t care anymore. I need to get this out somewhere.

I live alone in a small apartment. Nothing fancy—tiny kitchen, creaky floors, TV across from the couch, the usual. I’ve always liked having the TV on in the background. Static noise helps with the silence. Until last week.

It started with the reflection.

I was watching something late at night, the room mostly dark except for the flickering screen. I paused the episode to grab a snack. As I stood up, I saw it in the TV’s black screen—a shape. Behind me. In the hallway.

I spun around. Nothing. Just my coat hanging off a chair. I laughed it off. I really did.

But then the texts started.

Unknown Number:

do you always watch alone?

I blocked it. Of course I blocked it. But new numbers kept texting. Different ones. Always a little too specific.

Unknown Number:

the reflection likes you. you shouldn’t turn off the screen tonight.

I started unplugging the TV at night. But then the whispers began.

It’s not like they’re in the apartment. It’s like they’re in the silence. Behind the white noise. I turn off the fridge and they get louder. I leave the TV unplugged and the air feels heavier.

Last night, I gave in. I plugged the TV back in, just to see if it would stop.

And the screen was already on.

Static.

Except, it’s not random static. There’s a face in it. Barely visible, like it’s pressing against the glass from the other side. I swear it moved when I looked closer.

I’m not sleeping anymore.

If this is some prank, I don’t care. If this is real—I don’t know what it wants.

But if I go missing, check the reflection.

Link

It’s giving horror story dad joke edition

If you’re itching for strange macabre and gorey short horror stories may I recommend this anthology by Adam Cesare, author of my favorite book series ever. Some of these stories definitely made me feel a little queasy

Just ignore it

One of the first stories I posted on wattpad.

On there I'm at 71 short horror stories right now, I'm not sure if I will ever post all of the stories I wrote before on tumblr, but here is one.

Word count: 1105

TW: Psychological horror

I look up at the old school building, just for a second I see the cracks. The surrounding plants around it have started growing inside. Some of the windows are broken.

The broken bell goes off and it almost sounds like a muffled scream.

I quickly go inside.

Inside the right classroom I take a seat at my table, it is a scratched old table with graffiti, not done by me.

Slowly the classroom fills with my 'classmates', these dolls with keys in their backs. They enter with their rattling keys and stiff movements. Opening and closing their wooden mouths, like they are talking to one another. I can't hear them, but I'm not interested anyway.

Lastly, the 'teacher' enters leaving its books on the desk and 'starting the lesson'.

I don't care to listen to the clacking of its mouth. It doesn't matter anyway, ignoring is for the best and pretending.

At some point the 'teacher' points at me and stops.

Carefully I stand and walk towards it, followed by the empty stares of the other painted wooden faces.

It is quiet.

It has always been quiet.

My 'teacher' seems to have stopped working, so I stand behind it and gently turn it's key until it starts working again.

Then just as quietly as before, I return to my seat.

I stare out of the window, without actually observing what is happening. Well nothing is happening really. Nothing ever is.

Just nature taking over this school, this empty building.

Even during break I just stare outside, while those dolls are clacking to each other.

If I go anywhere the dolls will be mean to me, they will sometimes throw things at me or clack mean things about me. So it is better just to remain in one place. They are defective.

I return home without looking back.

I live in an old dollhouse, it's almost completely empty and always silent.

I love the silence.

I enjoy the emptiness.

The rest of the house is just like the city with plants growing everywhere, inside and outside the buildings.

All buildings are slowly breaking apart and I just ignore it.

It's all fake anyway.

It's all useless anyway.

Nothing matters here, just that I do what I have to do and return 'home'.

The next day when I go to 'school', something strange happens.

The 'teacher' introduces a new 'classmate', another doll.

With a key and a painted face, just like any other.

It takes the empty seat next to me.

The new student seems to try to get my attention, but I just start doodling in my workbooks. Pretending I don't see or hear her.

The day passes by quite quickly, and I return to my old dollhouse.

I walk up the creaking stairs and past the rotting woodwork.

In my room I stare out of the hole in the roof, at the dark, starless abyss, most people call the sky.

And just like always, another day has passed.

The next day I do the same as all the previous days.

Stare out of the window, turn a key and return to my seat.

Then lunch comes around.

The new student is getting more annoying.

It has even started jumping in front of me to get my attention, which made the other dolls clack their mouths like they were laughing.

It's becoming more and more difficult.

Then suddenly it locks it's wooden hands around my wrist.

No matter how hard I struggle, It won't let me go.

Then it started walking and I am forced to follow.

We go up to the rooftop.

"I need you to listen." The voice coming out of the doll sounds vaguely human.

While blocking the only exit, it let's go of my wrist.

What does this thing want from me? None of them ever try to contact me as long as I ignore them, why does this one do?

The new student puts a hand under its chin, then a short click could be heard.

She removes her face, I guess she was wearing a mask.

I look at her face, her nose, her eyes, her eyebrows... Everything about her looks too familiar.

She looks like...

me...

Why does she look like me?

"I need to speak with you, please listen." She pleads with my voice.

I don't like where this is going and I take a step back. She doesn't seem to mind though.

"I need you to start looking around you and not ignore everything."

I remain silent.

"Remember what the doctor told us, about the ignoring of bullies and unfortunate situations? Well he was wrong."

I stay quiet and stare past her at the door, so close yet so far away. I just want to ignore her and continue my day.

"You can't ignore everything, you've already done that too much. You need help. You need to tell others about what's going on and learn not to just take everything."

So annoying.

"I don't care... I can just ignore it." I mumble to myself.

"Please don't." the other me pleads, her eyes starting to look red and watery.

I don't answer and take a few steps closer to the door.

"No you can't leave!" She yells.

I glare at her: "You're not supposed to exist. The doctor wasn't the only one who told me to just ignore it. Everything is better this way."

Defeated, she moves aside, her head hanging down: "S-so it has already gone this far... I see, it really is too late."

In silence I continue towards the door.

As my hand brushes the door handle she suddenly seems to want to give it one more try: "This whole city will collapse on top of us! It will kill us!"

"Then let it collapse. I can't go back to the time, when I still observed, when I still listened and I still felt everything. That time was hell. It was worse than death."

"But it is not too late. You can still get the help you need, before your world will collapse!"

"I don't want it."

I shove her aside and return to class.

The classroom looks more in disrepair than before we left, but I ignore it.

As school continues on, more cracks start appearing and I haven't seen the other me since I left her.

She probably won't return.

She must have left.

Given up entirely.

Well it's not like she could change my mind or anything.

She has no power over this place, unlike me.

I don't want to leave this place.

Yes, it's empty and it's lonely.

It might all be breaking apart, but this is my only safe haven. My own place of peace and quiet.

My own safe little world.

When the teacher stops working while pointing it's finger at me again, I turn the key on his back and return to my seat.

See, it all works perfectly fine.

I'm perfectly fine.

Nothing is wrong.

As long as I just ignore it all

And then at last the cracked walls can't hold the ceiling anymore.

I can hear its creaking.

But like always... I just ignore it.