Recent posts by knoxknoxknox on Kongregate

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Topic: Off-topic / why im superior to everyone



post images that example how superior you are

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Topic: Serious Discussion / Can you be a woman just by saying you're one?

I just stumbled on this pic

Now, I’m a really tolerant person. Maybe more than I should. But…
If you have a penis, you don’t look like a woman and you are enough happy with your body that you don’t want to do a surgery, you’re not a woman! You’re either a crossdresser, a trasvester or just a gay guy. Deal with it!
If you want to battle fore women’s rights in every country of the world that’s good, but you don’t have to be one of them to do it, right? RIGHT??

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Topic: Off-topic / NHL Stanley Cup Playoffs 2015

Its that time of the year hockey fans! The NHL Playoffs.

Here are my predictions this year!

Ducks beat Jets in 7
Flames beat Canucks in 5
Blues Beat Wild in 7
Predators beat Blackhawks in 7

Canadiens beat Senators in 5
Lightning beat Red Wings in 5
Rangers beat Penguins in 7
Islanders beat Capitals in 6

2nd round

Ducks beat Flames
Predators beat Blues

Canadiens beat Lightning
Rangers beat Islanders

3rd round

Ducks beat Predators
Rangers beat Canadiens

Stanley Cup Final

Rangers beat Ducks

What are your thoughts of this years Playoffs?
Who is your team?
What are your predictions?

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The teams that I think will win next years Stanley Cup.
Phoenix, Dallas, St.Louis, New York Rangers, Buffalo, Los Angeles

Teams from both conferences who will make the playoffs next year (In no particular order)

Western: Winnipeg, Calgary, Colorado, San jose, Los Angeles, Minnesota, Chicago, Phoenix

Eastern: Washington, New York Rangers, New Jersery, Buffalo, Detroit, New York Islanders, Ottawa, Tampa Bay

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Finally!… The playoffs are over.

New York Rangers 1 Los Angeles 4
Good series with a lot of overtime games, congrats to the Kings

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Round 3 finished and finally… we are at the finals

Los Angeles 4 Chicago 3
Great series and the Kings got there revenge from last year

New York Rangers 4 Montreal 2
Price got injured but the young goaltender did great but couldnt hold the Rangers off

So heres what were gonna do. We gonna predict the Stanley Cup Final series and the scores in the games… So here we go!

Game 1: NYR 3 LA 1
Game 2: NYR 0 LA 3
Game 3: LA 5 NYR 6 OT
Game 4: LA 3 NYR 1
Game 5: NYR 5 LA 4
Game 6: LA 3 NYR 2
Game 7: NYR 0 LA 4

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Round 2 finished!

Anaheim 3 Los Angeles 4
Good series but it was all LA in game 7. Goodbye Teemu Selanne.

Boston 3 Montreal 4
What a great series and a great rivarly.

Minnesota 2 Chicago 4
Great series by Minnesota but couldn’t beat the Stanley Cup Contenders.

Pittsburgh 3 New York 4
I thought Pittsburgh was going on top but again, another team choked

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Round 1 finished! (I know im a little late)

Anaheim 4 Dallas 2
Good series especially by both teams, Dallas especially played really well but couldn’t top the Ducks.

Boston 4 Detroit 1
Boston all over Detroit in this series. Detroit will never get back to there old self again just like 5 years ago.

San Jose 3 Los Angeles 4
Sharks just choked. For sure I thought they were going to sweep the Kings but they were the 4th team to come back from a 3-0 deficit and winning the series.

Tampa Bay 0 Monteal 4
All I could say… Sweep

Colorado 3 Minnesota 4
What a great series this was, really surprised that Minnesota made it to the 2nd round.

Pittsburgh 4 Columbus 2
For sure, I thought this was going to be an easy series for Pittsburgh but no, Columbus played well, but lost with a standing ovation.

St Louis 2 Chicago 4
What a physical battle between these two teams but Chicago came on top.

New York 4 Philadelphia 3
Great series by the Flyers and Rangers. Game 7 was necessary.

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Topic: Off-topic / shut up about slavery

plenty of white folks were slaves back in the day

y’all ever seen spartacus?

them african americans need to get over themselves

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Im also cheering for the blues, I hope they win next game and the game after that

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It’s that time again

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Topic: Off-topic / Creative Deaths

With the Death Stairs, random anvil drops, and users galore. Basically, one user will post an item, and the next user will post a weird, inventive, or just plain stupid way to die by said item, and then they post another item, and so on…

User 1: Item: Sasquatch
User 2: Death by messin’ with Sasquatch.

User 2: Item: Can of Beans

Let’s begin!
Item: Water Bottle

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Topic: Off-topic / Gippo Dudee

Gippo Dudee is a famous namefig from 4chan’s [s4s] funposting board. He is widely regarded as one of the board’s best original posters and is thus held in high regard by almost all of those who frequent [s4s]. He is commonly associated with the phrase:

“Incase you didn’t know, /s4s/ is property of Gippo Dudee, so kindly fuck off. "

thus, it is seen that [s4s] regards Gippo Dudee as their king and captain. Despite the fact it is believed Gippo no longer posts using this name, those who admire his work continue to honor him by adopting his personage, flooding the board with daily reminders.

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Topic: Off-topic / Acid Trip

Acid Trip refers to visual, auditory or sensational hallucinations caused by mental illnesses or drugs like LSD.
Beside of any real hallucinogens, acid trip can be also mentioned on trippy videos, images or gif series.

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Topic: Forum Games: Continuous Games / Picture Wars (6)

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Topic: Forum Games: Forum Games / FHL (Fictional Hockey League) Coach and Team Signups

I put a list of teams you guys can have, if you have an idea of a team then ask me.

Space Jam- SypherKhode822

Pacific Rim- GotterakaThing

My Little Pony-

Adventure Time-

The Simpsons-

King of the Hill-

Family Guy-

American Dad-

Harry Potter-

Doctor Who-

Ed, Edd and Eddy-

Fosters Home of Imaginary Friends-


Super Mario-

Game of Thrones-

Sonic the Hedgehog-

Star Wars-

Spongebob Squarepants-


The Hobbit-

Bobs Burgers-


Grand Theft Auto-

Book your teams.

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Topic: Forum Games: Forum Games / FHL (Fictional Hockey League) OPTION 2

Im gonna put option 2 up here, the first thread was a league with no trades and no custom teams. Im just going to see which option you guys wanted

This one is your gonna be the coach AND the general manager. You pick your OWN players and post them on here. Create your own line ups. 19 PLAYERS ON EACH TEAM

Offensive Line 1-4: 3 players
Defensive Line 1-3: 2 players
1 goalie

Post your players and Line ups on here.

For example you could put an offensive line with Charlie Brown, Twilight Sparkle and Bart Simpson.

ITS that easy… unless the player you wanted was already chosen by someone else… you could trade a player for another player

For ex: Team Gevock trades Bart Simpson for Finn the Dog on Team Marh

YOU can decline trades and if you want to trade a player INBOX me the player(s) you want to trade to the player.

18-30 teams.

Games are on Saturday and I’ll post the scores.

54 games but if you think thats to much games, tell me and I’ll lower it down a little.

There will be playoffs after the season.

Lets try to get this thing started.

So which one do you guys want? Option 1 or Option 2?

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Topic: Forum Games: Forum Games / FHL (Fictional Hockey League) Coach and Team Signups

Originally posted by SypherKhode822:

Seems fun.

Thats a basketball team, you want Michael Jordan as a HOCKEY player?

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Topic: Forum Games: Forum Games / FHL (Fictional Hockey League) Coach and Team Signups

Ok, since its the Stanley Cup Playoffs and all that, I want to do something a little fun. I’ll try to explain it and if you dont get some of it, comment or just inbox me.

-You can be the coach of your own team

-only 18-30 teams allowed

-Choose any fictional show/movie/cartoon to coach (comment down below what team you want)

-Im the general manager and I’ll do the scores

-Games will be on every Saturday

-There will be 54 games (comment if thats too much and I’ll lower it down

If you have more questions or comments feel free

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Topic: Off-topic / Describe Kongregate in a nutshell

Let’s see who can make the most hilarious breakdown of our site!

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Topic: Off-topic / Really Bad Games Thread

Post games you hate, or Games that people hate…
But let’s start.

Let’s try to add a lot. or You make one, Top Xs, Lists. Anything. Just nothing cringeworthy.

- Rouge Warrior

- The Simpsons Skateboarding

- Sonic the Hedgehog

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Topic: Off-topic / Im going to stop the creepypasta stories now... if anyone cares...

I dont know man… I dont feel like doing these things anymore… well… gonna make a new thread in like 5 minutes about something else… and im moving to Lavender Town where the music makes you commit suicide

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Topic: Off-topic / The Puppetmaster's Regime (Creepypasta Fridays #13)

Have you ever heard of the musical “The Puppetmaster’s Regime”? Most likely, you haven’t. In fact, even hardcore musical lovers often do not know the story of this little production. It was a 1934 stage musical written by anonymous authors of the music, lyrics, and book. It starred upcoming performers such as Timmy “cutie-pie” Wright, Sally Wilkes, Henry Gregory, as well as many others. At the time, it was the most expensive show to that date. It was said to be the biggest, most spectacular show you’d ever see.

From the testament of Tyler Warwick (1901-1983)
“I went to see the show about a week after I turned thirty-three. The ticket was a gift from my sister, who knew how much I loved musicals. I remember the signs, they were huge. I also remember the playbill… it was just a single red dot with a doll-like face on it. It didn’t make much sense to me but it didn’t matter, because I was going to see a Broadway show…”

From the testament of Georgina Long (1911-1984)
“…the cast was made completely of new people. Kids and adults alike who were longing to get back on stage after Vaudeville stopped being popular, it was quite charming really. I do remember how odd the whole thing was… all the playwrights and lyricists and everyone were all unnamed, and that playbill… it was a little red drop with a peculiar little face in it. Not even a title, just that little red dot. I had come to New York with my parents to cheer the family up after my grandmother had died… a Broadway musical seemed just like what we needed…”

From the testament of Carl Hannigan (1920-1993)
“…I remember the first act- then again, who could forget? The story was a little hard to follow at first. There was a little boy who lived in a puppet shop, or maybe he lived down the street- no, no, he worked in the puppet shop, but he was homeless, so they provided him a home there. The kid’s name was Mori..Mortim…something weird…oh yes, it was Morietum…no, Morietur. Morietur, yes. Anyways, Morietur’s employer was this old man named Mr. Obcisor. I remember his name because he was so creepy. I think his character was a pedophile. The two of them sang this weird song about puppets…it wasn’t a normal song…or at least, the music wasn’t normal. The lyrics were very enchanting, and the music did this odd thing where the high notes and the low notes sort of mixed with each other; it really set this strange mood. But we thought nothing of it, and the show progressed…”

From the testament of Gabriel Johnston (1919-1976)
“This little kid, Mori- Morietur, something like that, had a girl friend named Trahunt and this other boy friend named Adolebit. Together, they talked about how much they loved puppets, and so they sang this cute little song about joining forced to raise money so they could afford to build their own puppet. Then…something really odd happened in the story…

…the three all headed for school, and they had this really nasty teacher named Madame Reperio…or something like that. They had a reprise of the song from before and she overheard them…at first her remarks about the children’s fantasies were somewhat comical…but then the light fixed on her and she sang this heartbreaking little song about…well, that was up for interpretation. It was somewhat about love, but it had all these strange puppet metaphors. Then, she just went on this little breakdown, we thought it was this strange character trait. She started singing off key and went to beat one of the kids. The curtain fell, and there was a scuffle heard onstage. We sort of dismissed it, though. So soon the curtain rose again, and we were back at the puppet shop…"

From the testament of Louis Roberts (1905-1967)
“Morietur and his friends went into the town and sang a song about selling…dolls, I think it was. Because the little girl made dolls in her spare time, and she had to sell them. I remember those strange background characters. The company was so absolutely monotonous…they all wore some form of dark clothing, and each of them were very, very tall. I can remember how they all had their faces covered up by hair or hats or veils…none of them spoke. None of them even sang during the course of the show. They just walked in perfectly straight lines, as if they weren’t even part of the show. Anyways, this strange song about buying dolls…it had absolutely no life. But for some reason, these kids were putting their all into it. I could see the pain in their faces as they hit those high notes. And something else…as the lyrics went on…they seemed to…get…a little…it is so hard to explain. They all looked like they were…dying a little inside. They looked so pale and nervous all of a sudden…it made me just a tiny bit anxious…”

From the testament of Carrie Laurie (1921-1995)
“The kids all got their money from this strange man in cloak who sang a simple little tune…I still remember the lyrics:

Despite the fall of rain, little kiddies,
Everyone needs a little song-
Wooden dolls give you pain, little kiddies,
Go on, little kiddies, run along…
His character was never really explained. But I remember how truly gripping the melody was…so haunting, it got you right there in the gut. Even the little kid actors seemed a bit unsettled by the new turn of the show. They all kept stuttering over their lines as they spoke and sang, and I still remember when a light bulb over the stage went out. Everyone kind of gasped and one man I think even laughed. The noise it made really spooked the little girl, little miss whatshername. All the names were so very odd. All I know is that light bulb had gone out, an the actors were stumbling across the stage…and the whole thing looked like a terrible flop."

From the testament of Marcus Edger (1918-1968)
“…So After that light bulb went out, the whole set started falling apart. We, the audience, tried our best to ignore it. But we found it near impossible. The set piece for the puppet shop screeched its way onto the stage, and we could see in the far back the paper sky background falling down. The lights went dim in what we assumed was an attempt to hide the malfunctioning set pieces. The kids, with the help of an oddly monotonous Mr. Obcisor, constructed the puppet…and this strange song played. To this day I don’t know what they were saying. It sounded somewhat like Latin, but I went on to study Latin in college the next year, and found it to be in no way the language. I remember how it enchanted me, though. It enchanted all of us. We all began to feel this…thing…course through us. I remember a few people around us who were humming in an attempt to rid themselves of the sound, and I could hear people in the front rows crying out in what sounded like pain.

The actors themselves sounded as though they were about to pass out at any moment. They were doing this odd sort of ballet and they were tripping all over themselves, and I can remember a few more lights flashing and breaking. We all sat and waited for the song to end, when…when…I’m sorry. (pause) I’m so sorry…I can’t…"

From the testament of George Frank (1899-1999)
“…The lights were going on and off at random, and we were all praying the damn song would end soon. It had this force going with it…it was sucking us in. We could feel it. The little kids and the puppet man were dancing all around when…well, you see…(pause)…I really thought I could do it. I thought I could do it…but I can’t…”

From the testament of Carolyn Mark (1901-1949)
“…The lighting was completely out of control. It was a mess. And that song…it was awful. But something about it…it was powerful. It had a force. I watched intently as the dancers began to skip around and…and…we…I thought they were…the lights…”

The actual events of the final scene of Act I of “The Puppetmaster’s Regime” has been up for debate for many years. Not many people are willing to speak out about what happened on stage during those final moments. Many believe that there is no actual record of an interview with somebody who was willing the tell the story…this is not true, as one testament survives from a Billy Prescott, who was only six at the time of the show. At such a young age, one might assume he was unaffected by what he recalls happening:

“…I don’t remember a lot, because I was just a kid. All I can remember is that song…it was giving me a headache. I turned to father to ask him if we could leave, when suddenly I saw the stage illuminate with this red light. The music stopped as one instrument after another died out, and swear I heard pounding underneath the stage. Everyone was questioning what was happening…even the actors. I remember that teacher lady being pushed through the door of the shop…and some assembly members ran onstage for some reason, and just stopped. I remember a few people started crying right there on the stage when suddenly this…curtain…came forward.

It’s hard to describe what it looked like. It was a clear plastic wall, and it came down from above. Several years later I saw “Carrie: The Musical” on Broadway during one of its few runs…that thing that came down on the promgoers when Carrie was using laser lights to kill everyone? It was just like that. A bunch of set pieces from earlier scenes came down on the sides of the stage, trapping all of the actors in the center. Then chaos erupted.

The actors were pounding on the plastic wall thing when suddenly the curtain flew out and left us in the dark. The audience, at the time, thought it was just a really twisted ending to a terrible musical. We were about to get up when suddenly the curtain opened up again, revealing a single light, and in it was the little boy, Morietur. He had clawed his way through the plastic wall…we could see the blood on his hands…but I remember how he looked.

There were strings attached to every part of his body…like a puppet. Not only that, but we could all see his stomach…or lack of, anyway. It was like somebody had put a huge ice cream scooper in his belly. He was sobbing all over the stage, and everyone looked at him, not knowing what to do…and then he spoke…

“Help me…please…help me…” was all I could make out, and then he vomited and suddenly collapsed. The lights all came on, and we saw the cast.

They were all dead. Every one of them looked exactly like the little boy. Everyone had those strings attached…and we watched as all of them, even the little boy…as their strings were pulled on. Their lifeless bodies rose on cue, and they bowed."

However, we cannot be certain that this a credible account…but unfortunately, it’s all we have to work with. “The Puppetmaster’s Regime” sparked horrible debate among the theatre companies. Several audience members had to be treated to special therapy for years to come…and the show itself was covered up by the police. For years to come the theatre company, as well as the police department, who had never managed to solve the gruesome murders of the cast of the show, denied that the play ever existed. However, in recent years the story has resurfaced…sparking much new debate on the subject.

The theater that housed the show still refuses to acknowledge the show’s existence, and most theatre historians know nothing about the show in general. To this day, the identities of the anonymous lyric and music writers are unknown, and all copies of recordings of the songs and police reports have been destroyed. However, through ancient illegal copies of interviews and theatre records, we can gather a bit of information on the show. The show itself had its first workshop in London durring 1928. One of the songs, “Get A Puppet” was recorded with vocals by twelve-year-old Garris Creely. However, this recording has been lost, and is only available in the black market of the internet. Other than that, no official records (that we know of) were ever made. Some ancient accounts say that an illegal taping of the final scene of Act I was recorded from backstage, but we cannot be certain that this is anything but a rumor.

As for any official memerabilia, very little of anything was ever made for the show to be remembered by. Oddly enough, the show was never advertised, and yet it somehow was well-known enough to have booked tickets for several months to come. Playbills from its premiere night were given out. Most audience members destroyed their copies after seeing the show…but legend has it, around ten to twelve survive.

On another note, over the years the show has grown a small cult fan base, and here recently, an off-Broadway revival has been scheduled to premiere soon.


This has an eerie feeling to it, and is chilling to the bone. 9/10

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Topic: Off-topic / World's Best School Psychologist (Creepypasta Fridays #12) (Awarded for the Best Single-Part Story of 2013)

When I was twelve, I came to the conclusion that everyone in the world, including my own family, was against me. I was never a problemed child, but my parents sure treated me like one.
For example, I used to need to be home by 5:00pm every day. This clearly restricted my amount of “play time” outdoors. I wasn’t allowed to have friends over to play at the house, nor was I allowed to go over anyone else’s. I had to finish homework directly after I came home from school, no matter how long it took. My parents refused to buy me video games and forced me to read books and then write a book report on them to prove I actually read it!
Now, even though those rules listed above were quite frustrating to me as a child, they aren’t what upset me most. What really hurt me was the lack of compassion on behalf of my parents. My mother was a bitter woman who always made me feel guilty of accidents or mistakes I’ve made. My father only knew one emotion: frustration. The only time he spoke to me was when he screamed at me for receiving poor test scores or beat me for misbehaving.
But enough about them, let’s talk about my school’s psychologist. For his own privacy, we will call him Dr. Tanner. Like most junior high schools, a psychologist is always available on campus during school hours to assist any students in need of counseling whether it is emotional, academic, social, behavioral, etc.
To be honest, I have never seen any students talking with Dr. Tanner. Every day, I would walk past his office on my way the cafeteria and peek through his door’s little window. He would always be alone in there, working on some paperwork.
I guessed that most kids were too afraid to speak about their problems to an adult who was practically a stranger. For this reason, it took me three weeks to muster enough courage to go into his office. March 2nd, 1993, was the day I decided to voice my troubles to Dr. Tanner. During lunch break, I stood in front of his office door and knocked.
Through the window, I could see him raise his head, smile, and motion for me to come in. I did.
He greeted me by introducing himself and asking for my name. Dr. Tanner was a very soft spoken man who seemed to radiate kindness. In less than thirty minutes, I rambled to Dr. Tanner about how mean my parents were to me and how they didn’t care about me at all. After a while, my voice began to quaver and I stopped speaking. The psychologist listened patiently to my whole spiel, arms folded and head nodding. I half expected him to begin talking about how everything I had just said was untrue and that my parents loved me dearly and blah blah blah. But he didn’t.
Dr. Tanner leaned towards me with a grin on his face and said “You know… I’m the best school psychologist in the world. I promise we will fix this.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, but how?” I asked.
“I have my ways!” he replied. “I’m a man of my word. I promise that within just one month, the relationship between you and your parents will change for the better. Forever.”
After a brief pause, he continued; “Although, I do need you to make me a promise.”
“You have to promise me that you’ll come back to my office after school tomorrow and that you won’t tell anyone that we had this conversation today. It’ll be our little secret.”
I promised.
The following day, I returned to Dr. Tanner after school. It was around 4:00pm when I entered his office. After a warm welcome, he asked me to have a seat in front of his desk once again.
Upon sitting down, I watched Dr. Tanner close the blinds of the door’s tiny window. “There,” he smiled, “now we have all the privacy we need!”
We began to talk about my likes and interests, my favorite subjects in school, my least favorite teachers, and things of the like. About an hour into the conversation, Dr. Tanner offered me a soft drink.
I gladly took the offer, considering my parents never allowed me to drink soda. Dr. Tanner reached over to his mini-fridge and fidgeted around before setting down two open cans of soda on the desk.
Afterwards, we continued to talk about what was going on in my life but it wasn’t long before I passed out from whatever drugs Dr. Tanner placed in my drink.
It took me a minute or so to adjust my blurred vision upon waking…
… And when it did, I had no idea what to think.
I was handcuffed to a bed and my mouth was sealed with duct tape. I immediately began to panic- squirming and tugging at the cuffs- but gave up soon after.
My eyes widened in disbelief after looking around the room. There were posters of superheroes pinned up along the walls and photographs of famous athletes on shelves. In the middle of the room was an old television and Super Nintendo, various game cartridges stacked alongside it.
I didn’t know what to think. Here I am in a room filled with items most kids would die to play with. I would have probably cried from joy hadn’t I been handcuffed to a bed frame.
My stomach sank once again as the door opened and Dr. Tanner walked inside. He sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Now listen,” he said, “remember that I’m here to help you and I would never hurt you, okay?” Dr. Tanner gently removed the tape from my mouth and then the cuffs from my hands.
My first instinct was to begin crying but something about Dr. Tanner made me feel safe. He smiled at me. “You’re going to be staying here for a while,” he continued, “and during this time, you’re allowed to play with any toys in this room while I’m here at home.”
“But when I leave the house, I’ll need to cuff one of your hands back to the bed. You can still watch the television, but I want you to only watch the news channels when I’m away.”
I sat in silence, still trying to process the information he had given me.
“So!” Dr. Tanner yipped, slapping me on the knee. “You go ahead and knock yourself out; I’ll be back when it’s time for dinner.”
He got up from the bed, walked across the room and clicked the TV’s power button before locking the door behind him.
Several more minutes passed before I realized that Dr. Tanner wasn’t joking. All that was left for me to do was boot up the Nintendo and play Mario until nightfall.
At about 7:00pm, Dr. Tanner returned to the room carrying two plates of mashed potatoes and chicken strips. I finally gathered up the courage to ask him how long I’d be staying in this room. “Well, about a month,” he replied, “give or take a few weeks. I just have some work I need to do.”
The following morning, I awoke to Dr. Tanner’s hand patting my head. “Hey bud, you don’t have to wake up right now if you don’t want, but I am going to need to put this back on,” he whispered, clamping the cold steel handcuff onto my wrist.
I gazed up at him. He was wearing a collared shirt and slacks, a coat draped over his shoulder and a suitcase at his side. He looked just how he always did when I saw him around school. Before leaving he placed the TV’s remote next to me and told me to turn it on and watch the news.
The first thing I saw upon turning it on was a “breaking news” segment. An important looking police officer stood at a podium surrounded by people with microphones. I happened to begin viewing half way through his speech.
“A statewide Amber Alert has been issued as of this morning. We have several investigators working towards identifying potential abductors, but as of right now there is not much evidence. Faculty members state that the boy had been last seen around four or five in the evening on-“
I began to feel nauseous as a photograph of me appeared on the screen. It was my yearbook picture from last year. Captions for the photograph displayed my name and age, my school, and my town. Above my picture were alternating titles: FBI BEGINS SEARCH FOR CHILD and KIDNAPPING SUSPECT UNKNOWN and POTENTIAL RUNAWAY.
The live footage continued and two figures I soon recognized as my mom and dad stepped up to the podium. Both appeared to have reddened eyes. Tears streamed down my mother’s face as she took hold of a microphone.
I’d never seen so much emotion come from my mother before as she wept on live television, stuttering on sentences such as “please return my baby back to me” and “I’m so sorry” and “please come home to us”.
When my father took the microphone, I nearly expected his attitude to be stone cold, but he too had tears in his eyes. He pleaded to the world to bring his son home safely and lastly begged for my forgiveness! “I know I haven’t been the best father, but goddamn it do I wish I had been now. Please bring my boy back.”
I turned the power off shortly after. My emotions were mixed for I had never once seen my father cry.
I felt miserable that my parents were being put through so much, but at the same time I felt relief. I now know how much mom and dad love me.
Nearly four weeks have passed and Dr. Tanner has been treating me with the utmost respect. He leaves me in the morning cuffed to the bed frame, but returns in the afternoon to eat lunch and dinner with me, talk, and play games. I never would have guessed how good Dr. Tanner was at Monopoly and Scrabble.
But one morning when Dr. Tanner woke me before heading off to work, I noticed a stern look on his face. I also realized that it was three hours earlier than when he usually wakes me.
“You need to watch the news today. No exceptions. I want you to keep the television on all day and pay close attention to it,” he stated grimly.
I, of course, complied and watched him exit the room.
About two hours later, a breaking news segment interrupted the toothpaste commercial I was watching. The title:
Two staunch looking men in suits stood aside one another and began speaking:
“We are displeased to bring up such unfortunate news this morning regarding our missing child case from earlier this month.”
One of the men bowed his head while the one speaking shuffled through some papers. He continued:
“Remains of a body have been found in a garbage bag beneath a highway overpass. The body appears to be that of a child, although not much of it is left. The body has been decapitated and much has been burnt to ash and bone.”
The screen shifted over to a helicopter view of the freeway, dozens of police cars gathered near the bottom of a tall overpass. The man’s voice could still be heard:
“Within the bag police found a junior high school identification card labeled as such.”
The screen showed the school ID card I always kept in my backpack. The plastic was sort of melted away, but my photograph and name were intact.
After the two men dismissed themselves, the camera panned over to my parents. They were sitting among reporters; my mother’s face held a painful grimace and my father sulked his head down at his knees.
I shut the television off.
Dr. Tanner returned home very late. He hurried into the room, unlocked my cuffs, and placed a bottle of fizzing water into my hand.
He placed his hands onto my shoulders and smiled.
“I made you a promise, didn’t I?”
I nodded, tears squeezing their way out my eyes.
“You need to make me a promise again,” he whispered.
He told me that I needed to drink all the water in the bottle- it would help me sleep- and that from here on, I am never to tell anyone that I ever met him. I promised.
“I told you I’m the best school psychologist in the world, didn’t I?”
And he was right.
I awoke later that night to find myself lying in the middle of a park, stars shining brilliantly across the night sky. I recognized the park; it wasn’t too far from my school.
A mile or so down the road, I saw my house. The lights were off inside, but I could make out my father sitting on the step leading to the front door.
I hesitantly called out to him. He lifted his head slowly, but when he saw it was me, he sprang to his feet, ran towards me arms open, yelling my name. My mother erupted from the house behind him.
Dr. Tanner was right. Things have changed with my family and I. My parents smile more often and treat me lovingly. I could not ask for a more perfect ending.
Every now and then, I see Dr. Tanner on campus- talking to and from his office. Rarely do we ever make eye contact, let alone speak to one another, but sometimes he’ll shoot me a wink and a smile.
I’ll always keep my promise to him and pretend I never met him, but there will always be one question forever floating in my mind: who did Dr. Tanner decapitate and throw off the overpass?


This is literally the ONLY story that I’ve had an emotional reaction to. Holy shit, what an awesome story.

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Topic: Off-topic / XoRax (Creepypasta Fridays #11)

My parents were the first to fall violently ill from the sickness we now know as XoRax. I can vividly recall my father lying on his bed while his muscles spasmed and he chocked on his own vomit. I stood as his side, frozen in place and refusing to leave as I held back sobs, his pupils dilating until his entire eye was like an inky blackness. He tried to speak, turning his head toward me, but opening his mouth only brought forth another torrent of vomit. I remember saying something, but that detail is lost on me now. I remember staring into his glazed eyes as his shuddering became less pronounced and he was suddenly very still. I let out a wail and ran into my room, unprepared and unwilling to face the truth. My mother was the first to pass, then my older brother who had just turned 17, and finally my father. I had not considered that I could have caught the disease myself – if it were in fact contagious – I just thought myself lucky, though tragically lucky at that.

Kodee2Added by Kodee2
I fell asleep in the corner, huddled in the blanket that previously kept my mother warm, her perfume made the putrid aroma somewhat tolerable, perhaps just enough so that I could drift off. I remember a persistent banging next, a series of muffled inquiries from the opposite side of my locked door. They were shouting for survivors, looking fervently for anyone who was still alive, despite the breakout. I rushed to the door and unlocked it to face what I would come to identify as the Day-Crew. Their faces were obscured by large gas masks fitted with some sort of capsule on either side of their cheeks, their breathing was slow and monitored, their voices were nearly impossible to hear over their mechanical wheezing. They were covered from head to toe in black regulation hazmat material with orange text reading DAY-CREW on their backs.

They ordered me out into the main hall where I managed to catch sight of fourteen other children around my age being told directions and filed into a line-up. Once the entire group had been examined, we began our trek out into the streets, which was a vision of chaos and destruction. We had heard the noises of looting and desperation from our homes, but we hadn’t ventured off into the outside world for weeks for fear of catching the sickness ourselves.

There were even more Day-Crew that were burning the bodies that had fallen to the streets , trying to purge the earth as they kept their distance from the resulting fumes. We were silently ushered into the back of a large truck that took us to the south, away from the cities and suburbs and into the dense growth of the forest.

When the van came to a screeching halt, the doors swung open to reveal more Day-Crew, who ushered us out into a forest clearing. We were interrogated about our exposure to anyone with XoRax, and if we felt any symptoms like nausea or vertigo; though we had all witnessed our family members falling ill, and had tried in vain to treat them, we were all perfectly fine in any physical sense.

The Day-Crew initially told us that they were perplexed about our immunity to the sickness, as anyone who came in contact with it was sure to fall ill just hours later, so it was a shock to see that some of us had been living this nightmare for weeks on end. As they administered more tests and asked more questions however, we were told that the immunity was tied with a hormone cell that the disease was using to compromise the immune system, and since we were all too young to have properly developed it, the disease was unable to make us fall ill.

We were told that the Day-Crew wanted to study us, that we would live under the cover of the forest in quarantine. They would hope to extract a cure from our group that could be used to heal the world and rid it of XoRax Disease.

They tried their best to sound positive in light of the situation, but it was obvious that even they were doubtful of their efforts, and that there was no guarantee for any of their tests to follow through.

Still, they kept the mood optimistic and promised us that we would save countless lives with our efforts. They built a secluded village in the woods, providing us each with a make-shift house carved into the tree trunks around the area, I was led to a simple tree house that had a single bed on the far end and a table in the middle. We were told that first thing the next morning we were going to have our blood taken, so we weren’t allowed to eat anything until then. I was fine with that, I hadn’t been hungry for days, the image of my mother, father and brother crowded my thoughts instead. I didn’t get much sleep, the forest was chirping with crickets, and the muffled bickering of the Night-Crew kept me up into the early hours.

We were woken the next day and filed into a single line up to have blood drawn. While the needles were prepared for us, we were told that we would have to receive a vaccination that would prevent us from going through puberty to preserve the hormone that might lead to a cure. It was never elaborated on at the time that we would never be able to grow up, or have children, but it was unlikely to live beyond the first few hours of infection, never mind the next few years, so our adulthood was seen as necessary sacrifice.

This continued for a few weeks, we would continue to receive vaccinations and assured that a cure would soon arise, but times were getting desperate. I took to listening in on the muffled conversations of the Night-Crew during the night, it became easier to make out what they were saying over time as they sat beneath my bedroom window next to a crackling fire.

I discovered that our encampment was only one of many in the surrounding area, and that they deduced that XoRax originally came from the sea to the West. They passed around horror stories of the people that lived by the shore that were hit the worst, that they had gone completely pale and that they began to sprout growths off of their elbows, hips and their toes. They had to be kept constantly hydrated or else their skin would begin to flake and peel. Their pupils had dilated and their entire eye was colored black, at this bit I thought back to my father, sitting on the couch and writhing in pain.

There was food in the mountains, one assured another, they were gathering it in droves, perhaps to keep it from spoiling. Another spoke up, revealing that they had managed to find expecting women who weren’t exposed to XoRaX, and that they were being kept in the mountains to birth their young away from the sickness. The topic came back to their present situation and they began to discuss our encampment, that our results – while promising – weren’t being worked on fast enough. There were accusations claimed, and fingers pointed, but at last they settled on keeping their mood positive, that something would come along eventually, that we just needed some more time.

Discussion drifted back to the horror stories of the West coast, which clearly sparked sick interest in the group as they talked of the corpses that had been found along the waters and drifted ashore, each with deep black eyes.

I rolled over in my bed, unable to listen to any more of the stories without images of my own family. Staring up towards the ceiling, praying that we would manage to find a cure soon, and that I wouldn’t have to hear about the people of the West any more.

It had been nearly a month of testing when something went wrong – a few short hours after our latest vaccination several kids began complaining of distorted vision. They could see trailing lights in the air, making their way across the plains. While their faces were covered with their masks, I could sense the worry that played out across their faces.

We were told that they were just visual hallucinations, and that they would subside in a few hours. When I awoke the next day and glimpsed outside I too could see the trailing lights drifting through the air, they forbid anyone to discuss the lights any further, though it was clear that everyone could see them.

As we lined up to have blood drawn, one of the Day-Crew became terribly ill, and began to vomit through his gas mask. In a frenzied panic we were ordered back into our homes as they led the sick member away into the woods. We were told to come out and organize ourselves into a line for decontamination. After covering everyone with a chalk-like substance, they began to scrub away at it with some foul smelling liquid until they were assured that we were safe to deal with once more. This excessive procedure became a part of our daily regimen, and it’s how we started calling them “The Scrubs” rather than their official titles. We were disillusioned, and it was obvious that they were as well.

The visual hallucinations began to worsen, even though we had stopped taking vaccinations long ago. Some kids began to befriend imaginary creatures in the air, speaking to the trails of light. I was horrified that I might start losing my sanity as well.

I didn’t want to eavesdrop to the discussion over the fire that night, which had gradually worsened which each passing week. With a trailing desperation in their voice, the Night-Crew began to exchange information about the other areas.

The food in the mountain had been contaminated, and rumors began to surface that all of the births had resulted in defects, with each child being well-over a healthy birth weight with their eyes far apart. They would likely succumb to the disease and perish as well, it was decided. The cure that had been tested on the XoRax-ridden patients hadn’t shown any signs of preventing the sickness, but rather had simply slowed the progress of the sickness so that it claimed lives in days rather than hours.

While this was a bit of good news, they focused on how little was accomplished over such a large span of time, and how anyone with the sickness shouldn’t be kept stringing along, but rather, destroyed so that they couldn’t contaminate anyone else. There was a coldness in their voice.

I rolled over in my bed to watch the lights play across my vision, dancing across my eyes until I fell asleep.

The Scrubs were gone the next day, leaving us behind as their failed experiment. The other children seemed unaware of this and decided to continue befriending imaginary creatures. In a depression I sulked off to bed, only to suffer a violent burst of spasms and shivering in the process. I drifted in and out of sleep that night, having one recurring nightmare after another. When I awoke, I heard something pass through my doorway, something that couldn’t possibly be there. Rolling over I reluctantly looked up into the air to watch a trailing ball of light float around my house before descending toward my bed.

“Hello, Link. Wake up. The Great Deku Tree has summoned you!”


Best gaming pasta of all time (exception to BEN, of course). 9.9/10

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