10 points for??????!
Question: the one who can tell me something really scary!!!!!!!
Answers: the one who can tell me something really scary!!!!!!!
There are more "Bush's" that have not been president yet and are eligible to run.
The elections are coming soon and either a democrat or republican will most probably win.
Republicans are in the white house
don't know if it scares you but it sure scared the he** out of me when I heard about it
If you look someone in the eye for too long, he turns into the devil.....
Hilary gets the nomination and that means a real BUSH is headed for the white house
I got this from a book. Warning, very long:
I want to tell you how this story got included in this book.
About a week before the book was published, I broke into the offices of Orchard Books, which are located in a rather grubby street near Liverpool Street station. Maybe you haven't noticed but the book you are holding at this very minute was originally published by Orchard and I wanted to get my hands on it because, you see, I'd had an idea.
Generally speaking, publishers are stupid, lazy people. Orchard Books has about twenty people working for them but not one of them noticed that a window had been forced open in the middle of the night and that someone had added a couple of pages to the collection horror stories that was sitting by the computer, waiting to be sent ot the printers. I had brought these pages wiht me, you see, because I wanted to add my own message to the book. Nobody noticed and nobody cared and if you are reading this then I'm afraid my plan has worked and you are about to discover the meaning of true horror. Get ready--because here it comes.
Twelve years ago I desperately wanted to be a writer and so I wrote a horror story (based on my own experiences) that was rejected by every publisher in London because, they claimed, it wasn't frightening enough! Of course, none of them had the faintest idea what horror really meant because they had never actually committed a murder, whereas I, my dear reader, had committed several.
My uncle Frederick was my first victim, followed by my next door neighbor (an unpleasant little man with a mustache and a smelly cat), two total strangers, an actor who once had a bit part in "EastEnders" and a Jehovah's Witness who happened to knock at my door while I was cooking lunch. Unfortunately, my adventures come to an end when a dim-witted policeman stopped my car jast as I was disposing of the last body and I was arrested and sent to a lunatic asylum for life. Recently, however, I escaped and it was after that that I had the wonderful idea that you are reading about at this very moment and that can be summarized in three simple stages. Drop into the offices of one of those smarmy publishers in London and slip a couple of pages into somebody else's book (with many apologies to Anthony Horowitz, whoever he may be). Exit quietly and stay in hiding until the book is published. Return only when the book is in the stores and then wait in the background, until some poor fool buys it and follow that person home...
Yes, dear reader, at this very moment I could be sitting outside your home or your school or wherever you happen to be and if by any chance you are the one I've chosen, I'm afraid you're about to learn a lesson about horror that I know you'd prefer to miss. Orchard Books is also going to wish that they'd published me all those years ago, especially when they start losing readers in particularly nasty ways, one by one. Understanding will come--but I'm afraid you're going to have to read this whole story again.
Start at the beginning. Only this time look carefully at the first word of each sentence. Or be more precise, the first letter of each first word. Now, at last, I hope you can see quite how gloriously, hideously mad I really am--although for you, perhaps, it may already be too late.
My mother.
there is this guy at my school who likes me and he freaks me out bc he looks like a squirrel.
sorry this is really long
Not so long ago, in a town very close to the exact one you are in right now (I can’t tell you which one, as you might never want to go there again, and that wouldn’t be fair to that poor town now would it?), there was a murder. A series of them, actually. Now, these weren’t just your everyday choke/stab/shoot-the-victim-and-dump-the... murders. No. These are the kind of murders that are planned out for months in advance. The importance? The victims are chosen at random, whether they have anything to do with the murderer or not. They don’t always happen when the victims are alone and they never happen in the same type of place. They don’t all happen in that same town either.
If you haven’t got the message already, I’ll help: YOU could be next. In fact, if I were you, I’d go check in that closet over there. Or maybe not, because you might not make it back. Because they still haven’t caught the guy, and the murders aren’t over. Why haven’t you heard of this, then? They don’t want you to know, and for a good reason. By They I mean everyone that has lost a family member or a friend, or both to him. I mean the police, the government, and the very few people who have heard the story, whether told to them by bad secret-keepers or by friends at sleepovers because it is thought to be an urban legend. But it’s not. It’s all very true. It can’t be that bad, though, right? You can handle it, am I right? I’ll give you the mild version and we’ll see…
A girl, no older than fourteen, was the first to go missing. She was at one of the public rest areas on the side of the highway, on the way back from a family trip. Her family waited for her in the car for twenty minutes. Still, she didn’t come out. Her mom went in to make sure she was alright. But she wasn’t there. Only three perfect, little white lines on the wall.
They found the girl’s body eight months later, under the bleachers at a high school football game. The police told people that it was an accident. It wasn’t. They said she fell off the top of the bleachers and broke her neck. She didn’t. Anyone who had seen her would know that. How? Her legs were gone. Unattached. She had them when she went missing. If it had happened then, there would be blood, would there not? There wasn’t. None. And it wasn’t because they had healed, either. It had happened recently. VERY recently. And I don’t think the three pencil-thin, perfectly straight little white lines down her left cheek were an accident either.
Seven other people went missing within the next two months. Seven sets of little white lines. Three of the other seven turned up within the next four months, all the same. Untouched, except their left cheek and their legs. The police knew better than to continue to call these accidents. They were covered up, for no one to know about but them. But the disappearances didn’t stop. They still haven’t. Different ages, twelve-year-olds to eighty-seven-year-olds. Boys, girls, men, and women. With nothing in common. They started happening all over the country. But how do I know they were linked? I’ll tell you. Little white lines.
They almost caught him too. Twice. Within a week. But they didn’t. A small church from the city where the murders originally started had set up a search party to look for the most recent disappearance. Her name was Jenny Fallins. Nearly the whole congregation was on the volunteer list to help search the area she was thought to be in. But she wasn’t there. And now neither is one of the volunteers. They circled the area, calling. Calling. With no response. “Jenny! Jenny! Are you there? It’s OK now! Jenny! Jen-“One of the volunteers turned around to ask his wife a question, but she wasn’t there. He didn’t think much of it and kept searching, assuming she was looking somewhere else, and he simply didn’t hear her leave. But she wasn’t at lunch either. Again, he assumed she was just caught up in what she was doing. He was wrong.
That night, after the unsuccessful search, a man was pulled over by a police officer. The policeman stepped out of his car to go lecture the man about safe driving and give him a ticket. Routine. Nothing special. But maybe it wouldn’t have been if he didn’t get an urgent call on his radio before he had a chance to hear it. Hear the banging. The screaming. From the man’s trunk. Screaming of the missing volunteer. “Slow it down there, Buddy!” shouted the policeman. He could have discontinued the murders of countless people if he had only taken two more steps. But he didn’t.
Two days later, at the police station downtown, the church volunteers were being interviewed about what they knew of the volunteer that had gone missing. “Thank you. Give us a call if you think of anything else.” Said a policeman, finishing up his second to last interview. All he had left was one more uninformative interview before he could leave. Looking down at the volunteer list, he couldn’t help but notice that the man he would be interviewing momentarily had put his name on the volunteer list, but not the searcher list. The man walked in and sat down at the chair across the table from the police officer. The officer asked him a few questions, with no significant results. He had a priest from the church that had volunteered sitting next to him, as many of the interviewees were emotionally shaken up after the disappearance of two of their congregation members.
“I- I just- I feel so alone. I feel like maybe God isn’t with me, in me right now, because how else could something so horrible happen?” asked the man.
The police officer looked over to the priest for help with this one, as he was better at these kinds of questions.
“Of course he is, God is in all of us, even if you don’t know it.” replied the priest, satisfied with his answer.
Apparently the man was satisfied also, because he looked up and smiled. “So is Jenny” He started laughing, got up and left the room.
Minutes later, the policeman realized what the man had meant. Why his name hadn’t been on the search party list. What had been happening to the legs of the victims. A paper had been stuck to the back of that list with the name of the man, who owned the catering business that had served lunch to them that day.
its the holidays!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!