Aesthetically Pleasing Adventures

Strange Reddit Post

Found on the subreddit /r/LetsNotMeet

“Arkham made the person I am today. Whether it was for better or worse is still up for debate. This particular event, however, took place in 1983, andĀ  stands out in my mind as one of the most pivotal moments in my life.

When I was 19, my father passed away from a rare form of brain cancer. Unfortunately, our insurance didn’t cover the treatments, leaving my family in massive debt. We were forced to sell our home and move into a much smaller house in Brookevale, a “historic” neighborhood that was a rotting shell of its former glory.

By this time it was about mid-July, and I was working the night shift at a local diner to help make ends meet. Thankfully, the diner was within walking distance of the house, so when it was time for my shift I would just pop a tape in my off-brand Walkman and be on my way.

The walk to work was always pleasant. The walk backĀ from work however, was another story. The streetlights for some reason never worked, transforming my late night walk into something out of a horror movie. The towering, dilapidated houses that lined the road didn’t bother me during the day (in fact, I admired them in a strange way) but at night they transformed into a bleak hellscape. Basically, the atmosphere of my walk mirrored whatever Bauhaus cassette I happened to be listening to.

The worst part of the walk was passing by the old Greybriar house. The only alternative route to my house involved passing through an old alley notorious for muggings and gang activity, so I had no choice but to walk by that house every single night. The house gave off an unmistakably sinister vibe, but walking by a spooky house was preferable to an almost guaranteed ass-kicking.

One night at the diner, around 3 in the morning, a girl around my age came and sat down at the counter. This was unusual because A.) most of our regular customers were factory workers just getting off and B.) I had never seen her in before. This, coupled with the fact that she looked as though she hadn’t slept in days and hadn’t showered in even longer raised more than a few red flags, however, I’ve seen weirder and took her order.

She didn’t speak much, and asked just for coffee, black. The more I looked at her, the more things I noticed about her. Their were cuts on her arms that appeared random at first, but the more I looked at them, I started noticing that they were patterns and shapes. They looked like those stereotypical occult symbols you see edgy kids drawing on their notebooks, however, their was writing that was very intricate. I was shaken to my core.

After she sat their muttering to herself periodically for the next hour, my manager told me to get her to pay for the coffee and leave, as she was making everyone in the diner uneasy. Gathering up all my courage, I bring her the check. She doesn’t acknowledge it. By this point I’m more annoyed than terrified, so I remind her that the coffee isn’t free.

Out of nowhere, she smashes the mug against the table and drags a shattered edge across my arm, cutting it wide open. I can still hear her screaming “he has risen,” and laughing hysterically in my head. The owner heard the commotion and came out with a shotgun. Before he had the chance to apprehend her, she had ran out the door and into the night, never to be seen again. The owner called the police and drove me to the hospital, where I received 12 stitches and one hell of a scar that remains to this day.

During the police’s search for the woman, they checked the old Greybriar house, as it was known to be a hotspot for vagrants. On the walls were apparently similar occult markings like I had seen on her arms, drawn in human blood. In the basement was a group of drifters who had brutally been dismembered in an almost inhuman way. While there was never any concrete leads in the case, I am almost 100% sure that the woman who attacked me was behind this or at the very least involved. She was never found.

After this incident, I stopped walking to work, bought a cheap motorcycle and a very large knife. Every time I drove by the old Greybriar house I’d shudder instinctively.

Deranged occultist woman, lets not meet (again)!”

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