The Halloween Thread

[legionaire45]

Be Festive.
0AP7cDDywkY
2b704tlVZqs
_aYJAEuAUBg
-lnrnHvE_i0

Needs moar Halloween tbqh.

In fact, post all your Halloween shit here.

[FlyingStone]

When is halloween?

[rossmum]

...

October 31.

[FlyingStone]

Oh wow I thought it was today, I need to get a calendar.

When's Christmas? :)

[ima_from_America]

That's santa's birthday, stoopid!

[TeeKup]

BEEN WAITING FOR THIS THREAD!!
ZNik6CS33Ks

[Amit]

THRILLLLLAAA!!!!

9Xs9OQHpwDE&feature=related&fmt=18

[ima_from_America]

6gc-1Dq3uQQ

[Snowy]

so yeah I have no idea what this thread is about cause I didn't watch any of the youtube videos, but I has a halloween story so I hope it's ok.

So like the day before yesterday (AKA Saturday), I went to Firewheel (a mall around here), and I went to a haunted house... Macy's!

Man, that place is scary! Guys in lab coats putting make up on!

..and it's not even October!

[Gwunty]

Boo?

[Sel]

It's still September guys...

[Kalub]

Thats what you think, I'm already getting ready for the Night life.

[supersniper]

A little early for evil celebration isn't it...

[mech]

iCHFVTQKqdQ

:neckbeard:

[legionaire45]

N.

It's always Halloween.

You just don't know it.

This should be more of a "Get Festive" type of thread. If you have/plan on wearing a Halloween costume I guess you could post those here, although you may be laughed at unless they are :awesome:.

A few months ago a friend of mine, who is an up-and-coming nature photographer, decided to spend a day and night alone in the woods outside of our town. She wanted to get photos of the woods and wildlife as naturally as she could for her portfolio. She wasn’t afraid of being alone, as she had camped by herself many times before. She set up a tent in the middle of a small clearing and spent the day taking pictures. She filled up four rolls of film on that trip, but something was strange about them. What she saw in those pictures has stayed with her ever since, and she is still trying to recover from the trauma the have caused her.
Almost every picture was accounted for, save for one picture in each roll of film. These pictures were of her, asleep in her tent in the middle of the night.


Do you know what a Cordyceps is? I didn’t either until 20 minutes ago. It’s a family of thousands of different types of fungus, grows all around the word in various rainforests and jungles. The awful thing about them is they’re parasitic, they grow on other animals. An ant happens to run into some spores, and then it starts to colonize his insides, starting with his brain. At some point, the ant starts to act visibly ill; standing in place and shivering, or walking in circles. If a fellow colony member sees him in this condition, he will be dragged to the border of the colony and exiled.
Then, when it’s almost over, the ant weakly climbs as high as he can up the vines, and locks his body on tight. Finally, he dies, and the fungus emerges from the back of his head, bursting forth like a long and foul fruit. After a short time, the little stalk spews forth its own spores, leaving the mummified and broken ant clinging to the stalk, his eye cavities filled with drying fungus.
I mention this because last night, when I was up on the roof of my apartment complex, I found my brother’s body.
He’s been back from 18 months on duty in the Philippines for less than three days. This was the first I’d seen him. My parents called me up the day before yesterday to tell me that he was on his way up. They told me he’d stayed in his room since he got home, and then suddenly got up and announced he was on his way to see me. They thought he was drunk, I’d thought he’d never made it.
He must have come straight up to the roof and died, by the smell of it. I was just finishing a cigarette, all torn up with anxiety and head throbbing, and when the acrid smoke vanished I caught a whiff of rot on the hot wind. It took me just a few minutes before I’d found him; face down behind the vents and fans. A slimy gray column rose up obscenely from the base of his skull, and a frozen waterfall of roots and tendrils was dangling from his eye sockets and mouth. At the top of stalk was small arrangement of feathery wisps, a white powder drifting idly from it tips.


The spores must have drifting over the north side of the building all day. My side of the building. I came down to my apartment to try to call up the police, and my headache was rising to a feverish throb. I got through the door, and the moment I reached for the phone, pain flared in my head, so bad I almost passed out. I’ve since tried three times and I can never get my hand up on it.
The same thing happens when I try to get up and leave the room; I feel spines of ice tunneling up into my skull and my limbs lock up and shudder.
The ants, in their last moments crawl as high up the vines as he can climb. This is so the spore will spread over more of the colony below. In the end, the parasite controls the ant with an almost intelligent drive. God help me.
The pain is almost blinding now, and a new thought has been rising up rhythmically in my head, like a record skipping. Up. Up. Up. It’s joined by an image of my office tower. It’s taller than my apartment, the tallest place I can think off and although the bulge on the back of my neck is the size of a peach, the skin stretched shiny, and I’m dizzy and my eyes are cloudy, I think I can make it there. Up.
No. I’m sick. I need help.
The building pulses again in my mind. The cold wind. The roof and the sky. These images and concepts dull the pain momentarily as they pass through my mind. I think I can get there. Up. Up.
If you live in downtown Chicago, I would get the fuck out.


Early in the morning of August 19, 2005, the body of a young black man approximately 16 or 17 years old was found on Wolfe Street, in downtown Baltimore. The corpse lay in a pool of blood, and was dressed in a pair of loose jean shorts over white cotton boxers, a Baltimore Ravens football jersey bearing the number 77 and the name Ortiz, a pair of white cotton athletic socks and a small gold cross on a chain around the body’s neck. The body wore no shoes, and had no wallet or other identifying possessions. Baltimore City police concluded that the young man had been just another victim of the city’s frequent violent crimes. Nobody came forth to claim or identify the body, and it was passed on to the coroner’s office for autopsy. The coroner’s report concluded that the cause of death was blood loss and trauma caused by three shots to the upper chest, one of which penetrated the heart and the other two the left lung.
So far, so normal, right? Here’s the part the official statement left out: There were, indeed, three entry wounds, but there were no exit wounds, and after a thorough search of the body no slugs or fragments were found, nor was there any heat damage. The young man had been killed by three shots to the chest, but there were never any bullets. The body was never identified.
Postscript: As of this writing, the Baltimore Ravens have never had a player who sported the number 77, or who was named Ortiz.




Our encounter with the Steubenville Ghost was very surprising because we didn’t believe in such phenomena. If I had imbibed, or been by myself, I would probably have turned to some professional for help after the experience. I say we, because I was not the only participant.
The late Clarence R. Coulter, who’s family still reside in Akron, Oh. and I owned Halbert and Coulter Construction Co., Inc. in Wheeling W.Va. Early morning of December 30, 1948 he drove his new Hudson as we went into a small factory at 1817 E. High Ave. in Youngstown, Oh. It was an unusual day for that time of year in northeast Ohio. It was an overcast day with temperatures in the forties. I give you this because records can verify the accuracy of my memory.
About 11:00 am. in the office of Storm Sash, Inc. a radio announced an extreme cold front was approaching carrying extremely hazardous icing conditions. It warned everyone to get off the roads and streets shortly.
We went to a little greasy spoon nearby and prepared to leave earlier than planned to try to beat the severe weather. We concluded our business and left about 2:00 pm. As we proceeded south on Market St. we came to the south edge of town and Schotts Restaurant on the east side of the street. It was a well-known establishment that was only closed and torn down a few years ago.
Neither of us was smart enough to be too afraid, and we were both great optimists. We couldn’t resist a feast. We ate with no drinks. We had parked about 20 feet from the front door. As we stepped out of the door, we almost fell on the predicted glare ice, so we held onto the car fenders and anything else for support to keep from falling. We were agile and very active young men.
We saw no traffic moving. We entered his car and sat there debating if we should try to find some place to stay. Since New Years Eve was the following day, we preferred to be home in Wheeling for it. We decided since we were experienced drivers in inclement weather, and no traffic was moving, if we proceeded at 20 or 25 miles per hour and slid into something, we might bend a fender, but unlikely to be injured, so we decided to go home.

We proceeded south on Route 7 and already to the point where it turned east to East Liverpool, Ohio. There we encountered two emergency vehicles crawling along. There were no others moving until we next traveled through the small town of Steubenville and came to our place of encounter. The temperature had plummeted and was now biting cold.
About some twenty miles south of Steubenville on the old highway, we came to a place flat and even as a floor. At the north end of it the Ohio River turned east maybe a 1/4 to 1/2 mile, then south a ways, then turned back west to the highway. There had been a town there on that low plain but it was washed away in the Great Flood of 1936.
As we entered this plain from the north, we saw a string of maybe six cars entering it and approaching us from the south end. After passing only 2 moving vehicles in about 3 hours, this struck us as very strange. Suddenly, the lead car moved over and back again on this very straight road. Those behind did the same in a serpentine line. We remarked that maybe an animal was down or something had fallen onto the road that they were trying to avoid hitting. When they came to us, they passed us making a sloshing, drumming sound as if they were in heavy water on the pavement. This eerie sound seemed weird to us since the road was smooth glare ice.
We proceeded and came to that place where the strange maneuvering had occurred, and a woman in a white gossamer gown with a veil over her head put up her hand to stop us. We thought she was dressed in a wedding gown. There was a lot of crime activity in the Wheeling, Steubenville, Pittsburgh triangle we were in. We thought she might be there to stop us for robbery, as we looked prosperous. But no one would be out there with others lying in a ditch for that kind of activity in the bitter weather conditions we were in.
Clarence steered gently into the left lane. Man or beast could not have stood to move quickly on that uncleared, untreated glare ice. When she saw we were trying to pass her by, she floated smoothly and quickly over into the left lane. Fearing we might hit her, we steered back into our right lane as she quickly glided or floated back to it and stood in front of our approaching car. It was either hit her or stop. As we stopped before striking her, she moved back on the berm of the road and we came to a complete stop with her standing by the right hand door where I sat. We were confused and scared, but completely lucid and in control. I rolled the window down about 4 or 5 inches. She sounded like someone in a complete alcohol or drugged stupor as if her tongue was very thick. She leaned down and her face was may be 18 inches from mine. She asked if we were going to Steubenville. She kept repeating it and I said “any fool could see that we just came from there”. Clarence leaned forward to see her past me, and tried to get some sense out of her. I was sure I was going to see here in a police lineup for identification, so I stared intently at her face looking for any marks or features whereby I could positively identify her.
I suddenly realized she was featureless. There were dark spots where there should have been eyes, nostrils and mouth, but she was like smoke. In back of her to the west against the foot of the hill, a house had been recently built. As we were both staring into her face, someone turned on a light in the front of that house, and we saw it - through her.
We were suddenly very scared. He was a semi-pro fighter, and I was not a coward either. I was afraid she might enter the car. I’ll never forget my exact words as I cranked the window closed, “let’s get the hell out of here”. We went spinning our tires out of there to a night club/bar down the road at maybe Tiltonsville or Yorkville. We slid into the lot, stopped by the front door, as there was only one customer there. We clung to the car to the steps, entered where I called the Ohio State Patrol and told them someone should investigate. If that was a human being we left there, it would be a terrible thing to have done. Hearing no news, I called the patrol office two days later. The dispatcher laughed me off the phone saying they received no such report. I replied they had, since I gave it.
In 1961, I moved to Topeka, Kansas. During the course of business, I met an Air Force Staff Sergeant based here at Forbes Field. I don’t remember his name. In a conversation I began to tell him about the forgoing experience. Before I mentioned the name of the town as I related the event, he pulled on his pipe and said “that was the Steubenville Ghost”. Somewhat surprised, I asked how he knew about it. Since I hadn’t yet mentioned that she wanted to go to Steubenville. He said, “matter of fact, I was reading about her just last week“. She is one of the phenomena many people still discuss. I asked if he know anything about her. I don’t believe I ever referred to her as the Steubenville Ghost before that time. He said the most general or plausible explanation was this. In downtown Steubenville on the west side of the main street sits an old small frame church. I believe it was a Congregational or Episcopalian Church. He asked if I remembered that church. Of course I did. He said the prevailing wisdom was that she was a young lady near Rayland, Ohio, dressed up and in a buggy at that point on her way to that little mid-town church for her wedding. Maybe a riverboat whistle, something spooked her horse which bolted and threw her from the carriage where she struck her head on a rock and was killed.
I told him I often thought of returning to see if I could meet her again. Maybe we should have given her a ride. He said I had better be glad we hadn’t. He said he didn’t know if it was true in this case, but that there were reports of similar incidences where the apparitions were given a ride and those who gave the ride disappeared to never be seen again.
This is all I know of this phenomenon. After all these years and the former roadway having been made into a divided 4 lane, maybe she doesn’t appear now. But I would really like to know the whole story. Maybe what I’ve given here will fit into other known pieces.

[Kalub]

Needs more spooky ambient music, and a person to read for me.



/lazy

[Sel]

Its still September today guys...