There was a Shooting at the Local Grocery Store

My life has always been pretty boring. I live in a small town and nothing super crazy ever happens. I remember the year that the prom queen came out of the closet being the hardest this place has ever been rocked. Pretty fucking boring around here.

My father owns a gas station/mechanic shop combo and ever since I was old enough I have been working the cash register. It is nice enough and it allows me to buy my own video games and comic books. It’s a very laid back gig, unless a family traveling through has a sick kid. I do not treasure mopping up vomit. It has happened at least once a summer in the last couple years.

Last week I was working the closing shift, same as usual. I had the small television behind the counter playing the news as I flipped through the latest issue of Detective Comics. I heard a breaking news update about a shooting and immediately dropped my comic book. This kind of thing never happens here. Ever.

The woman continued to tell a story about a grocery store across town that had been the victim of multiple shootings. The entire shopping center was roped off and they weren’t letting anyone in as it was an active crime scene. The news reporter stood across the street with the sign for the grocery store in the background.

“We know at least 3 are dead and several more injured.” She said matter-of-factly.

I immediately grabbed at my pocket and pulled my cell phone out. My mother had been talking about going over there today for some farmers market thing. I touched on her contact and tried to keep myself calm.

“Hello?”

“Mom! I just saw the news and I was worried you were at that grocery store. Thank God, I was so scared for a minute.”

“I’m fine honey. Gotta go”

Click.

I was so relieved that I didn’t spend any time thinking about why she was being so short with me. I sat there wondering over who might have been hurt there. I knew some girls from my old school had worked there or they used to, we hadn’t really kept in touch. Other than that I struggled to think if anyone I knew would have been anywhere near that.

My best friends all lived on this side of town anyways and weren’t really the Farmers market type. We played a lot of tabletop games and argued about comic books and we loved hanging out at the pizza shop across the street.

My mind started to wander then and I had a customer walk in. I straightened up and turned the volume back down on the T.V.

“Did you hear bout what happened with the shootin?” An older gentleman asked as he browsed the beer selection.

“Yeah, I can’t believe it. I hope they got the guy.”

“In this town? Nobody seen anything this big in a long time, son.”

I had no response for him, he was right. I rang him up and wished him well. I stood at attention at the counter for a few more minutes before reaching for my comic book. Before I could even open it another customer walked in.

A girl. A girl I think i know actually.

“Can I have $30 on pump 4?” She placed the cash on the counter without looking up.

“Sure.” I started to notice how disheveled she looked.

“Everything alright?” I asked hesitantly.

She looked at me then, her eyes were red and her face was streaked with tears. She looked at me for a long moment.

“Connor? Is that you?”

“Yeah, Scarlet right? We had Calculus together.” That’s right. I knew her from school. It had been a few years but she looked just the same.

“Can I ask you a favor without you thinking I’m crazy?” She looked desperate. I was worried at this point, something had obviously happened to this girl.

“Of course, what’s up?”

“Conner, something happened today at the grocery store and I will tell you all about it later but I need a nap. Can you.. Watch me sleep?” She hesitated and then stared at the counter.

“I’m scared.” she whimpered.

“Easy enough. I’m out of here in about 10 minutes.” I tried to sound comforting but honestly I was a little spooked.

“I will go fill up and then wait for you outside.” She tried to crack a smile but it looked forced.

The last couple minutes were easy, I had already cleaned up and counted the drawer down. It is literally never busy here so I always got out on time. I grabbed my stuff and headed for the door. Scarlet had just put the gas cap back on and was getting back in her car.

I crossed the parking lot and looked through her window, she motioned me inside. I opened the door and sat in her passenger seat.

“Can you just keep driving me around for a little while?” She didn’t take her eyes off the steering wheel.

“Sure, I mean you could rest at my apartment for a bit it would probably be more comfortable.” She started audibly sobbing. “Or not, I can just drive you around.”

“He killed Edna and my boss and I don’t know what happened to Rey or Liz and my mom is part of it now and she called him my father! I don’t know what the fuck is happening! I just need some rest so I can figure this out!” The tears were rolling down her cheeks and off her face now.

“Hey, hey.. It’s alright. I will drive. Take as long as you need.” I was horrified. What had happened to her? I got out of the car and waited until she got into the passenger seat to walk around the car.

She was asleep before I finished adjusting the mirrors in her car. I have been driving her around for a few hours now and I just woke her up so I could use the bathroom. I don’t know what is going on but I have a feeling I have gotten myself into something serious. I am hoping to get the full story when I get back to the car but I am starting to get scared, nothing like this ever happens here.

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submitted by /u/Sailorscarlet
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Source: horror text

Anyone needs a ghostly boyfriend?

I hated my boyfriend, John. I'm sorry, I mean my ex, now that we're no longer together. It's just that we're broken up so recently that I'm still not used to it yet. Not that I'm complaining though, as it has been a liberating experience.

The relationship had been toxic, we brought out the worst of each other, with all the constant arguments and fights. In hindsight, I'm surprised that we even got together. I guess when you're young and impulsive, you tend to make hasty decisions without really thinking them through. Which was why I said yes to that no good excuse of a guy in the first place.

But that's not the reason I'm here. The reason why I'm here in this sub, like so many others, is to ask for help, if anyone is willing.

My story goes like this.

A few weeks prior to this, me and John got into another fight, which lasted more than three hours after midnight. It was incredibly tiring, considering how I needed to work the next day. It was over his unemployed status, and all I asked was if he was looking for a job. Everything just blew up after that.

By the time he stormed off, I was feeling extremely hurt, and as someone who has been on Reddit for a while, I instinctively turned to the place I know best, hoping for some advice and support.

I crafted an incredibly long story using a throwaway account and posted it in /r/relationships, detailing my relationship problems with John. There were many helpful replies and suggestions, but one stood out from the rest.

It was a message from a Redditor who introduced himself as Mike, who said he could make John "go away" for the right amount of money. $50,000 in total.

At first I thought he was joking, and I told him off as such. "I don't have time for jokes, and I am not interested in murder," I told him flatly.

He replied almost immediately. "Oh, who said anything about murder. I could literally make John disappear, without a trace, and no one would even notice or question his disappearance. It'll be like he never existed. Except you of course, since you're the client."

A chill ran down me when I saw the message. I never told him that my boyfriend's name was John. But with tears still flowing down my cheeks from the earlier argument, together with the devastating hurt that I felt, I saw nothing to lose.

"Sure why not. If you are as good as you claim to be, I would be more than happy to give you $50,000," I typed out.

"Deal. It'll be done by tomorrow morning when you wake up," came the reply.

The next morning, like Mike claimed, John did indeed disappear from my life. No, from existence. His number was no longer saved in my phone and when I went online, there was literally no trace of him at all online. His Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, everything gone.

I texted one of our mutual friends and asked him if he had seen John, and the reply that came back was "Who's John? I've never knew anyone named John."

Before I could reply that friend, however, my phone was interrupted by a text from an unknown number. "So, how's your new life without John? Told you I would do it. And oh, don't forget the $50,000 payment yeah? Love, Mike."

It was then when it finally hit me. I didn't have the money to pay Mike. I had thought that he was just joking. I told him so.

"Uh nuh, no do. Once something it's done, it's done. You think I'm what, Microsoft Word where there's an undo button? If you're not willing to pay, I guess I have to release what's left of your dear little ex to play with you," the message warned.

The thing is, I don't think that Mike was kidding. I've been seeing glimpses of John around me. At the corner of my eyes, just staring at me. I don't know what Mike did to John, I don't think I would even want to know, but from what I could glimpse, it was painful and gruesome. The feeling of hate was unmistakable.

I've tried to ask Mike to give me more time to pay him back, but he refused to budge. "As long you don't pay me, I don't have to fulfill my end of the bargain. Your dear dead ex is free to roam as he please. And it's natural that he chooses to stalk the one person that put him into this situation."

It's getting worse now, John's presence. Yesterday night, I swear that I heard the familiar sound of his breathing beside me while I was sleeping, only to disappear when I opened my eyes. And for the whole night, I didn't dare to sleep, because every time I closed my eyes, his laboured breathing would return.

I went back to beg Mike earlier for a temporary solution, to which he reluctantly gave me one. If someone is willing to be John's companion in place of me, it would at least give me some time to save enough cash to pay Mike.

Mike also assured me that John would not harm anyone who never hurt him before, just that he would follow you around for the time being, like a faithful boyfriend.

So Reddit, can I humbly ask if anyone is willing to take accept a ghostly boyfriend for the time being?

submitted by /u/dori_lukey
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Source: horror text

Anxiety Is One Hell of a Drug

Lately I feel like nothing makes sense anymore. It’s like my sanity is slipping away and there’s nothing I can do about it.

A couple of weeks ago I went to talk to my therapist for the last time in this round of sessions.

He was very positive throughout our conversation, even though I was blabbering away because I almost had a panic attack the other day – one of my greatest fears.

One of the reasons I suffer from anxiety is because I was bullied all through elementary school by a girl named Holly Madison. She made my life a living hell both through mental but indeed also physical torture. She once threatened to kill me with a knife. Pretty, little Holly, who knew you were a murderous asshole.

Eventually my therapist asked me whether I was bored with my life. This took me aback and first off I felt defensive. There’s nothing wrong with my life, I told him, other than the fact that I suffer from anxiety. I want it to go away so I can be normal like everybody else.

He wasn’t convinced. He knew he’d hit a nerve when I got defensive, so he kept probing. “Are you satisfied with your life, Anna? Or is the real reason you have anxiety so that you’ll get that thrill whenever you’ve ‘survived’ one of your panic attacks?”

In a sense he was right. Whenever I’d overcome my anxiety, it was sweet bliss. I didn’t die after all, even though it felt like my whole world was collapsing because of some stupid little thing. It didn’t matter what it was, the important thing was that some situations made me feel like I could and should just end my life then and there. It’s an indescribable feeling whenever you’ve “survived” the pure panic that can overwhelm you. There’s nothing quite like overcoming your anxiety and finding out, hey, I’m still alive and the world didn’t end!

If you’ve never suffered from anxiety, I don’t quite know if you can imagine what it’s like. But then again, don’t we all have anxiety on different levels?

What you probably do know is how it feels to be bored.

“Maybe I do suffer from anxiety because of my general boredom with my life,” I said to my therapist. It’s a peculiar thing, therapy. Deep down I knew it already, that this was why I had panic attacks every week. I needed to feel something, anything, besides my stupid, normal, and worst of all, boring life.

I actually needed to feel alive. I needed to feel like I’d rescued myself. Which is what I did almost every day. I didn’t need to bungee jump or go skiing down a mountain: I could save my own life time and time again in my head without ever needing to go outside.

“Anna, I think it is important you come again next week. I think we’ve only scratched the surface of your being and maybe it’s not even anxiety you suffer from, but something a little more…”

I didn’t hear the rest, I was too focused on my own thoughts. I felt empty inside and also like a fraud. I’d kept telling myself that what I wanted more than anything in the world was to be free from anxiety. But with this new discovery of me sabotaging myself because of boredom, did I even know what I wanted?

The answer to that question was difficult to find. I went home and cried when I got to bed. I thought I wanted the best for myself. I thought I was past sabotaging my own life because I didn’t feel like I deserved anything better, because I didn’t think I was worth as much as everybody else.

When I want to remind myself that there are people worse off than me, I either watch the news or horror movies. This time I settled on a horror movie to try and cheer myself up. I know it sounds insane, but it was just what I needed: maybe I had anxiety because my life was boring and I was a dull person, but at least there wasn’t anyone chasing me with a chainsaw.

I decided to watch “American Psycho”, one of my all-time favourite movies. I was watching the part where Christian Bale gets ready to kill Jared Leto with an ax, when a thought struck me: maybe I was a psychopath when I was bored with my life. Hadn’t I once read that Ted Bundy was bored and that was basically why he murdered all those women? I find every form of violence interesting, not in a crazy way. I’d read everything I ever laid my hands on about serial killers. I knew them all: Ed Gein, John Wayne Gacy, Jeffrey Dahmer. I even had a favourite, of course it was Ted Bundy.

Maybe, I thought, just maybe it was worth considering… No! I shouted at myself, I am not a violent person. I’ve never been in a fight, let alone hurt anyone! But then again, you had to start somewhere.

And that’s how I found myself at the cemetery a half hour later. I’d brought a shovel for some reason. I’m not sure if I thought I could dig a body up or something, but the coffins are like three meters down in the ground. It was impossible.

I skulked around for a bit, pondering what I should do next.

I went home and for the first time in five or six years, I cut my arm again. The blood was so hypnotizing for the first thirty minutes, then I just felt empty. I hadn’t done it in so many years and look at me! I was just a useless piece of shit who couldn’t do anything right. Somebody had to pay.

I slept a couple of hours and when I woke in the morning, I knew what I had to do. I drove out in the middle of nowhere and stopped at a lonely house. I was sweating profusely. I felt delirious and I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do.

Leaving my car, I walked up and knocked on the door. A man in his forties opened the door and looked curiously at me.

“Can I help you?” he asked me.

“Yeah, actually, this is a bit embarrassing, but I don’t feel so well and I wondered whether I could come in and get some water?”

The man let me in; I imagine I must’ve looked sick because of all the sweating.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked me and I told him I was out walking.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” I asked him and ran in the general direction he was pointing. I made it to the toilet bowl just in time when my breakfast decided to make a second appearance that day.

I looked myself in the mirror – a pale zombie stared back at me. “Pull it together, Anna,” I said to myself as I brushed my teeth using the man’s toothbrush. I grabbed the mace in my pocket with fingers slick with sweat, trying to steel myself.

When I got into the kitchen, the man asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee. I said yes and when he moved away from the kitchen sink to place the cup before me, I sprayed him directly in the eyes.

He screamed and fell down, clutching his head. No sooner had he hit the floor before I’d found the basement and rummaged through his things. Finally I found some rope to tie him up with.

I must’ve gotten him good because he kept screaming, rolling around on the floor. I’m not particularly strong plus the man was middle-aged but rather fit; it was not going to be easy getting him into my car. I didn’t know what to do. I was in way over my head.

“Mister!” I yelled down at him, trying to stop him from screaming. It didn’t work. I tried pouring water on his face, but that didn’t help either.

Instead I picked up an old frying pan from one of the cupboards and hit him over the head. He passed out immediately and I tied his hands behind his back and then tied his ankles together. I was at a loss as to how I’d get him into my car. First off I thought about rolling him out the door, but it didn’t take long before it was evident that it was impossible. I resorted to dragging him through the kitchen by his feet. Who knew a normal person could be so incredibly heavy? It took me an unbelievable amount of time before I could drag him into the back seat.

I wasn’t completely sure nobody had driven by while I was dragging a lifeless man around, but I hoped no one had seen me. I was just about to leave when I thought about fingerprints. I ran into the house and wiped everything off I thought I might’ve touched but what difference did it really make – with my long, brown hair it was more than likely I’d dropped a couple of strands somewhere. I didn’t have the time or energy to vacuum the place, so I just left right after that.

I drove home to my little house where I thankfully don’t have any neighbours for a mile or so on either side. I parked the car on the other side of the house so I could drag the man in without being seen from the road. When I finally reached the basement floor, carrying the man under the arms, I collapsed from exhaustion. I had an old dining-table stored down there which I tied the man to. When I’d tied each of his limbs to a table leg I used two rolls of duct tape to secure him to the table. Then I wrapped him with three rolls of wrap film to make sure he stayed.

When I was done I got a cloth and some water and washed his eyes. He was still passed out and I could see a huge lump forming on his head from the blow I’d given him. After maybe half an hour he finally woke up.

I didn’t know what to do when he asked me where he was and what was happening, so I told him I was bored with my life. That I wanted to try something new. And unfortunately for him, he’d be involved.

For some reason I wanted him to be afraid, to cry and scream and beg for his life. I wanted him to feel just an ounce of the fear I go through every day. Instead he laughed at me and told me I was a fucking bitch for macing him.

I ran upstairs, slamming the door on his mocking laughter. It followed me all the way to the kitchen where I had to put on music to drown it out. Then I began my research. Because at first I didn’t believe I’d really be able to do this. But now I’m thinking I’d finally get to follow something through, finish just one of the innumerable projects I’m always working on.

I don’t know whether I should stab him, drown him, torture him to death, or maybe try out my new screwdriver. It’s a difficult decision when it’s your first time.

In the end, I strangle him after I stabbed him. To see the light in his eyes being extinguished like that is one of the most empowering things I’ve ever felt.

Now I just need to decide what to do with the body. Who knew a person could bleed that much? Or that there’d be so many little meat packages. It took me the whole night to cut him up. At the moment I’m storing him in my freezer. I don’t know what to do with him, but I’m thinking about dumping garbage bags with the meat packages in different trash cans.

I found his wallet with the names of his children in case of emergency. Of course they don’t live with him, which is why it would be so satisfying to maybe send them a note in a six months’ time to torment them a bit. At that time they won’t completely have lost hope in finding their father alive.

How do I feel now that I know someone will be looking for me very soon? It is actually rather thrilling. They won’t know they’re looking for me for a long time, maybe they’ll never know it was me, but that’s okay. I can live with that. At the moment I’m contend…

But then again, I just had an idea. Maybe I owe Holly a visit, just for old time’s sake. I’ve heard she has a husband, maybe that’ll be just the thing. To punish her by hurting him. To show her who’s the REAL boss. I hate that bitch and she deserves whatever I have in store for her.

I can feel the walls of my house closing in. Maybe it isn’t just anxiety I’m suffering from. Maybe I really am crazy, you know, ready to be committed to the insane asylum-crazy.

But who cares. Just for now, the voices are silent. And now you know what to do whenever you feel anxious.

submitted by /u/Hoptyhop
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Source: horror text