Creepy Stories

Flower Clip

Ignoring the two picture files for now, I went back and clicked on one of the audio files. One of them began with a girl talking to herself, as though she was playing with her toys. I assumed that’s what it was: This same girl playing with the dolls she’d been playing with in the photo. Maybe a video had gotten spliced a bit when her mom took it, and this was all that could be salvaged? I went with that notion for awhile, and took closer looks at the file as well. It was a 6 minute, 30 second file. I wondered why a mom would videotape her daughter playing with dolls for that long. I had nothing better to do, so I sipped my coffee and listened. About 2 minutes in, something changed. There was a knock on the door, and footsteps, as though someone had come in without bothering to await an answer.

I heard the girl whimper, as though she’d anticipated this happening. There was whispering back and forth between the girl and whoever had just come into the room for a solid minute. The newcomer sounded like a grown man, about in his early 30s or late 20s, but something else was bothering me, too. The girl sounded older, about nine or ten. After a minute, something shattered, and the whispering stopped. It seemed glassy, like a vase falling to the floor. There was a muffled cry from the girl, and several thuds, as though someone had been thrown to the floor. The cries got louder and louder, while still being muffled, and more frantic, as though more and more pain or urgency was being implemented.

The sound cut out again after a single, loud, unsettling sound like that of metal beating against flesh. The sound did not return for awhile, and I assumed the file had ended, but as I reached for the pause button, I realized it was still going, and still had three minutes left.

Drinking down the rest of my coffee, I listened to the silence for another 2 minutes and about 50 seconds. On the last 10 seconds, I’d expected more silence, but instead was blasted with frantic cries of “Help me” and “mommy” from the girl, audible and not muffled for the first five seconds, loud enough to break my speakers had they been turned up more. I immediately turned down the volume almost completely, and just as it had started, it stopped, and in the remaining five seconds, I heard a sickening sound, like something penetrating through flesh. Like a knife.

I shook my head, trying to get the sounds out of my mind. It had to be a prank, maybe as a joke by the girl and her father for some friends. I switched to the next file, keeping the volume turned down just in case. This file was only 3 minutes and 45 seconds long. There was humming for the first minute or so, like a girl humming while she was playing. This one sounded oddly higher pitched, though. Younger. I’d guess about five or six. The next sound was that of someone entering the room, and yet the girl still sounded happy when they did, instead of whimpering like the other one. There was the sound of carpet being protruded upon, as though someone were kneeling or sitting down on it. Very faintly, I heard an exchange of words so quiet that I was forced to turn the volume back up to hear them.

“What’s that?” The little girl’s voice for sure.

“It’s just a toy,” a man’s voice reassured her.

Suddenly there was the sound of thuds, as though someone was being thrown to the ground again. Whimpers from the girl finally arose, and that sickening sound of flesh being pierced came up again. Only two screams came from the girl, both average volumed and very pained. Then everything was completely quiet. I turned my volume down in case something happened that caught me off guard again.

The sound was cut out for about two minutes, again, and the file eventually reached the point where there were only seconds left. In the last four seconds, I could hear soft breathing. Very soft.

This was beginning to unnerve me, but my curiosity was dominating by now. I continued on to the word document, and looked at the page count. 104 pages? The first page was blank, as was the second. And the third. I scrolled until something showed up, which first happened on the 26th page. In the center of the page was a simple “I want her” in 10-point font. I continued scrolling through the blank pages until I reached page 54. In the middle of the page there was another “I want her”, but this time in all capital letters. There was nothing else until page 73, where there was the word “dead” on the bottom of the page. I want her dead? Who? I continued scrolling, and there wasn’t anything else until the very last page. At the bottom of the last page there was a name. Emily. Coincidentally, I knew an Emily, I knew her very well.

This scared me pretty decently, but I still naively shook it off as pure coincidence. At last it was time for the final file, the video, but before I clicked it, I opened the first picture back up again. Although both girls had been wearing the flower clip, I realized they were completely different girls altogether. One of them was a tiny bit shorter, with splotched freckles, but otherwise the same haircut. On a closer look, the hair was a lighter shade than the second girl’s hair.

These girls were completely different people.

I felt a chill go down my spine and mustered up my courage to open the video. The video was short, only 30 seconds long, but watching it felt like it would last for eternity. A small girl, this time with long red hair and that same yellow flower clip in her hair, was lying on the ground, face down. Her head was turned sideways, and she was motionless, drooling blood onto the carpet. A puddle of it laid below her face, tangled in stray locks of her hair. She was missing her right hand, and in its place was a cleanly cut space, showing her flesh and bone to the world as it dripped blood. The skin was turning a sickly green shade, withering, almost, and I swore I could see maggots wriggling around in the absent space her arm used to be in, eating away at the decaying skin. Her arm had been gone for quite some time. The flesh was rotting away right before my eyes. Her neck was broken, as well, and the bones were sticking out from places they should never stick out. My neck burned a little looking at this: it was as if someone had wrung her out like a towel.

The rest of her was intact, and yet there were two more factors that scared me. There was a knife lying on the carpet, amidst a sea of splattered blood nearby it, as though it had been thrown down, and there were dolls, also sprinkled with blood, lying about it. The other factor was the man crouching behind the girl’s body, just staring down at her. For 28 seconds the man stared at the girl, breathing softly. But for the last two, he looked up at the camera and just glared. His eyes were dark brown, but thoroughly disturbing and unsettling. It was as though they were seeing past my eyes. Down into my soul, into where my secrets were kept under lock and key.

He was dressed in all black, wearing a heavy-looking black jacket and a black hat. No color from him was anything but. Alarmed and highly horrified, I was just considering calling the police at this point. I leapt up and darted for my phone, but I stopped and acted casually as my seven-year-old daughter arrived home from school. She carried an envelope in one hand, addressed to her. There had been no mail when I’d gone to check earlier, and the mailman hadn’t even come yet. Someone must’ve given it directly to her. More concerned with my problem at the moment, I dialed the local police station and recounted to them the story of the strange files and videos I’d found on the flash drive. After filing a thorough report and being reassured that there would be police cars arriving at my house in several minutes, I hung up the phone and sighed, slinking back to the computer and staring at the files in depression and shock, still shaking from the overall shock of their contents.

Out of nowhere, a new file appeared on the bottom of the content list of the drive. I took a deep breath, ignoring the logic that this was not possible by technical standards, and looked at it. The file was dated several seconds before I’d seen it appear, and was labeled “next”. I took a deep breath, expecting the worst from my newfound nightmare generator. Double-clicking it, my eyes opened wide with pure concentrated terror.

It was a picture of my daughter, dressed as she was today, playing with her dolls in her room.

I leapt up from the chair, dashing into her room and flinging the door open. “EMILY!” I cried.

“Yes, daddy?” She looked up from her dolls, contemplating the cause of my horror.

I froze in terror as I looked at her head. Sitting upon it was a yellow flower clip.

At that moment, I could’ve sworn I heard soft breathing behind me.