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*NVGR* A Genuinely Scary Story: Part 1. - Destructoid

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About
About Me:

I'm a 21 year old gamer from Canada who refuses to accept rational or logical explanations of all things. Armed with a large vocabulary and total disregard for morals and opinions, I fight for Justice. Or Destruction. Which ever gets me teh pwn.




Also, here are 10 things you didn't know about me



Games I've Played worth mentioning
Resident Evil Series
Shining Force Series
All the Sonics. ALL of them.
Command and Conquer Series
Fallout 1,2 and 3
The Elder Scrolls Series

A Genuinely Scary Story

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9

Other Stories I've Written

Risque Business
Karma
Monkey Business
The Chronicles of Niero
A Tribute to ZzFFTLzZ: The End of Douchebaggery
Skid Marks
Tastes on the Danforth: The Harbinger of Death
Didn't see that one coming
The Gross Out
Fear: Shit makes you run
You can't get out eggnog stains
Rage is the best investment
Stupid is as stupid does
Necessity above all else
The most horrific story ever told
Dunk-a-roos: Crack for children

Player Profile
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Don't read this is if you're looking for a laugh. This is the set-up for something much larger. I'm breaking it up because To write it all at once would be fail.. Again, don't read this unless you're interested in the slightest.

I'm known on here so far as a writer of funny, over the top, silly-bastard stories. It's funny really, that I only just recently started to write as a recommendation from a doctor of mine to help relieve stress. And It's done wonders. The feeling of creating a work of art is pretty fucking bitchin. Plus the comments make me feel good lol. But as I have discovered I have this talent, I want to experiment and deviate from my usual story fare. In what will be in a few parts, I'm going to tell you about a true to life experience I once had that has changed my perspective on life in general. It's aiming more for suspense so bear with me. Enjoy.



When I was in high school, I had one teacher that I got a long with really well. We'll call him Mr. Lobos. Anyway, one day in his class, he came to me and asked me to see him after the period was over. In my head I tried to think of what I may have done to deserve a candid talk with him. I had handed in all of my assignments, I was on time everyday that week, I couldn't figure it out. I would soon learn why.

As the lunch bell rang, I stayed behind the group and waited . He stood by the door until the last student had left, and turned to me. His hand still on the door knob, he locked the door, and sat down at his desk.

He then began to tell me story in great detail. To sum it up, apparently 20 years ago, his grandfather had died, leaving him a plot of land in the will. It was a tract of bush that had trails all through it and a campsite. Mr. Lobos was more than pleased to hear that he had received this inheritance. However, there was a clause in the will that gave him some discomfort. For him to claim the property, he would have to go to the bush that very night and walk through it with a group of friends after dark. A strange request indeed, but Mr. Lobos was keen to honour his dead grandfather's wishes. Since then, he told me, he's taken students out there. At night. And they would hear things and see stuff that didn't add up. It wasn't normal what happened out there.. And to top it off, he pointed at me and said he wanted to take me out there that very night.

The very first thing that popped into my head was that I would be horribly anal raped and murdered, and maybe not in that particular order, if I went into a dark, spooky bush alone with this man. Although he was a trusted teacher of mine, all bets are off when someone approaches you with an offer like this. The creepy thing was that it seemed like he had dealt with students coming to this same conclusion. He chuckled slightly and told me to go get a group of my friends to come tonight so I would feel safer with numbers, and to meet him back here after school.

I slowly walked into the Students Council room and sat down. I looked around the room and decided that the group of people here were as good as any. My friends Shawn, Katie, Erica, and Phil were all sitting in the room and had their eyes on me. I began to tell them about Lobos' offer. They all immediately came to the same conclusion of anal rape as I had. But, I was now curious about this mysterious "bush" he talked about. Granted it could be a metaphor for his pubic hair, but that was a chance I was willing to take. After a few minutes I managed to convince them to join me in Lobos' room after school.

The bell rang, marking the end to another school day. I rushed straight from my last class to Lobos' room and was greeted by the rest of the group. Knocking once, we entered the room. Lobos was already there, standing, over looking his desk. It was silent as we walked in and straddled desks, sitting to hear what he had to say. He told the group essentially what he had told me. As I glanced around, I could see the curiosity growing in the faces of my comrades. They were in. Lobos noticed this too and grinned. He then told us to meet him at the rear parking lot at dusk.

9'o'clock had rolled around and the sun was all but set. Our group sat on the cement steps leading up to the rear entrance to the high school from the student parking lot. We had been waiting here for a half-hour and had not seen nor heard of Lobos. Attempts at breaking the silence all ended in failure. Everybody was too tense, thinking about what was about to happen. I surveyed the horizon, the sun now had disappeared behind the buildings, the sky cast upon with a blood red colour. The moon was now rising opposite of the sunset, it was full and had caught the light of the dying sun. It was a deep shade of orange. The sight itself gave me chills. I suddenly heard the screech of tires and snapped my head to the sound.

A minivan had just tore into the parking lot, spraying an arc of gravel as it drifted around the corner. It fishtailed slightly and then set it headlights directly on us, the engine roared as it accelerated and shot forwards. Like a deer in the head lights, I froze, not knowing what to do. My friend Phil had just grabbed my sweater and was attempting to pull me out of the way, when the van hit the breaks, turned and squealed to a stop in front of us, the driver's side door directly ahead of the group. The door opened and a figure emerged. it was Lobos. He was wearing all black clothing, with a black trench coat, a black toque and black face paint under his eyes. I had flashback to my earlier thoughts of rape and murder and gulped.

"Get in" was all he said.

Regaining what little was left of my courage I was the first to approach the van. Being the instigator of this trip, I chose shotgun, allowing my friends to huddle in the back. As I opened the door, I looked in and surveyed the van. There were blindfolds on every seat. I stood back and looked to the others. They had not moved an inch. I can only assume that they were waiting to see what I did. Clearing my throat, I told them to hurry up and climbed in. I picked up the blindfold, but did not put it on yet. The others gingerly got into the van and began to question the intelligence of this decision. The blindfold pushed everyone out of their comfort zone. Lobos re-entered the van, looked at each of us, then told us to put on the blindfolds. He then turned to the wheel and started the van.

Taking a deep breath, I raised the blindfold up and tied it around my head. My heart rate began to climb.

I heard Mr. Lobos put the van into gear and felt it pull away. It felt the dip as the van pulled out of the gravel parking lot and onto the paved road. In my head, I tracked our position with my mental map of the area. I think we were at the town limits, heading east when I thought to ask him a question. A question that would be meet with an answer I wasn't prepared for.

"Mr Lobos," I started, my voice cracking slightly, "where are you taking us?"

"No talking"

His only response creeped me out. I then heard a click and the rising sound of static. Mr Lobos had turned the radio on and had turned it to an empty frequency. I was now effectively blind and deaf. Panic was slowly starting to well up inside of me.

We drove eastward out of town for about 20 minutes. I knew the road well and recognized dips and turns. I strained to memorize the route, just in case my initial suspicions of buggery were correct. We had been driving without stopping for a while when he suddenly began to slowdown. Thinking hard, I guessed we were at a little intersection that was the site of a small village. As we came to a stop, I tried to move my blindfold slightly, slowly raising my hand up my side. Mr Lobos must have seen me, He grabbed my arm. I barely heard him over the static.

"No peeking."

The van then turned to the left and accelerated. We drove in this new direction for a couple minutes when we then slowed, turned right, and I heard the telltale crunch of tires on gravel. I now had no clue where we were. We followed the road slowly. The road was hilly as I could feel the change in elevation several times. The van shook with the occasional pothole. I was beginning to become genuinely afraid. Finally the Van slowed again and turned right, continued for about 100 meters and then turned left. The surface beneath us sounded crunchy. We came to a complete stop and Mr. Lobos turned off the van.

"We're Here."

I took off my blindfold and gasped at the sight.

To be continued...



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