[15 / 10 / ?]
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I hate to be the one to break the stream of Bin Laden and all, but I suppose I might have what some would call, a story to tell.>If you're looking for another ghost story or creepypasta, I'm telling you now, this isn't it. >For photos and/or story, post, so I know someone is interested.
Anonymous
I'm semi interested I suppose, but you might want to wait until the bin laden thing has died down, otherwise your thread will get pushed down and no one will see it
kuii !!3fVD0VjDI1k
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I should also clarify and repeat; this is not a ghost story. There is no awesome supernatural action, the house isn't even 'Haunted', as far as I've heard.
Anonymous
kuii !!3fVD0VjDI1k
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>>7561687 >>7561725 Well then. Our story begins in a small town. When you leave the glorious city of Seattle, Washington and find yourself in the middle of the woods, that area is called Maple Valley. I flew out this weekend for my Grandparent's 50th anniversary. We only visit every few years, and this is the first time I've been since I've been an /x/phile, so I thought you guys might appreciate a good story- I'll try to keep it short and sweet. It's a ferociously small town, stores and homes are planted right in the woods, no real subdivisions or anything, the scenery is fucking beautiful.
CHA1R !!XMbSUXUPU81
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AMERICA FUCK YEAH
kuii !!3fVD0VjDI1k
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Rewind: the year is 1968. The star of our tale today is a young boy named Larry. He has four younger brothers- Dan, Steve, Mike and Rob (oldest to youngest.) He's very close to Dan, just a year younger than him, and to Dan- Larry was the fucking world. They had two abusive parents, the mother who beat them with wooden spoons and screamed at them all night, and the father burnt the eldest two with his cigars, and cut them with his pocket knife. At the time, Dan was nine, and Larry was eleven.
kuii !!3fVD0VjDI1k
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One summer's day, the boys set off to Sunday school. their teacher told the young children all about the home of God, heaven. She talked about the endless playing fields, and all your favorite relatives and pets, and how wonderful it would be to be able to visit again. She told them that there was nothing better in the fucking universe, and all the good people got to go there.
kuii !!3fVD0VjDI1k
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Larry decided that with a place like that, why would he ever want to live in a Hell like this? Their mother screamed at them the whole way home. When they arrived, before the beating, he was to go out and feed the chickens. Before he left, he gave Dan a big hug and ventured off to the woods, where he climbed onto a tree stump and inched up an old oak tree where he hung himself.
kuii !!3fVD0VjDI1k
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Stomach turning with worry, Dan knew something was wrong and went to find Larry. It didn't take him long. He unhooked his big brother and preformed CPR (huzzah, boy scouts) but it was far too late. Larry was buried a week later, the mother's beatings severely lessened, and the brothers were spared.
kuii !!3fVD0VjDI1k
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Along with the typical family events, we visited Larry's grave and my father took me out to show me the stump that remains from the tree.
Anonymous
That was a sad story OP, condolences to your Father.
kuii !!3fVD0VjDI1k
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>>7562791 Not like I thought he would. Being a forest and all there were a lot of stumps and I wasn't sure which it was. I asked my cousins but none of them knew either. Eventually my sister just flat out said "Hey Daddy, which stump was uncle Larry on?" with a simple "Oh, this one, come here."
He's probably excellent at hiding his emotions, but he seemed surprisingly accepting. I guess it's been fifty years or so anyway.
kuii !!3fVD0VjDI1k
