The underground is a strange place. The limitless bounds of the paranormal - once confined to folk tales and fiction - is now a disturbing reality. You don't know how you remember them or how they began, but these spooky tales weasel their way around the underground through the Subway's hyper-superstitious populous. Best shared around candle or firelight. Spoiler: Address to the expedition coordinator After my first few months in the Metro, I figured I’d seen everything. Walking corpses, the paranormal - stuff the most competent Sci-Fi writers could never dream to write up. But after my last scavenging trip, I’ve learned that the Underground always loves surprises. After all - the truth is stranger than fiction. About a Week ago I was out on an expedition with my fellow revolutionaries. We were looking for fabrics, textiles - things we could use to make new uniforms with. We decided to look in this old tailor’s place, long abandoned, where off in the horizon standing in a pile of rubble, we saw this figure lurking and staring at us. It twitched and wobbled like a Cat sizing up its target, but for some reason I thought it just another scavenger. Fucking stupid. I waved at them and yelled hello, but whatever it was, it didn’t feel like fraternising. All it did was ominously raise its arm and disappear in a shimmer of smoke. Moments later, we were suddenly swarmed by a horde of mutants, one of which nearly tore my head off! Charles and I were lucky enough to get out in time, but my friend Alex got dragged off and we couldn’t find him, the poor son of a bitch. People keep telling me it’s the radiation or the shitty alcohol making me hallucinate, but I know they’re wrong. I can’t get that char-black figure out of my head. I shudder to imagine what foul tricks that… thing is capable of. Spoiler: The foul twitchers of Lexington On my way through the Crux, I met a strange man in a torn raincoat and a pair of gumboots. His skin was a milky white - like the moon, and had these eyes that seemed to glisten in my flashlight’s beam. I asked him what he was doing here, and he started spewing out these random words and sentences in different voices - just like some kind of VHS tape. Confused, I asked him who or what he was, and he just... stared at me for a few seconds and made this horrible noise - like nails on chalkboard or a… steak knife scraping against the bottom of a jar, then he sprinted at me and started wildly flailing at me with his nails, screaming this gibberish! It was like something flicked a switch in his brain, it was so sudden. In the charge, I reflexively shot him with my shotgun, but even with the top half his torso blown off, he still fought with the dexterity and the strength of many men. I don’t even know if I actually killed him, seeing him seize and writhe in a pile of its own brain and viscera like that. I haven’t been feeling right ever since I met that thing. Ripples in my vision, twitching, throbbing headaches - Even seeing and hearing a thing or two. The Doctors say it’s just the radiation, but It’s probably just my nerves. I hope. Spoiler: The Night Lurkers Taking a break from a long expedition, you duck into an abandoned alcove. Leading up to it was the numerous scattered sillhouettes of human bodies, but you're too tired to take notice. The place is damp and acrid, and there's little space to move. You go to sleep nonetheless, making no effort to search for a light until you awaken, though when you do you find a Journal - a small pocket-sized book that's fit for sketches and notes, but somebody seems to have squeezed a few extra entries in on the cramped A6 paper. Its handwriting is crude, apparently drawn in exceptional duress. The words are painted diagonally across the page and the lettering sizes up and down randomly as it goes on. "...In my rage, I make the terrible mistake of striking the Doctor across the chin. He immediately siezes up and crumbles into his knees, and I am pounched upon from behind and pounded into the floor. I am offered a gratifying few seconds of consciousness as I black out to the sounds of crunching ribs and the thwack of truncheons against my spine. When I finally awake, I find myself somewhere else. Left for dead in the middle of the metro. In my drunken haze, I haphazardly scan my surroundings to no avail - I am consumed by a black and unending darkness. I made the foolish mistake of pushing myself up to my feet and wading into it. I should've just layed there face-down and waited for whatever was watching me to slice my throat. A few hours into my stumble, I allow myself to trip over a flayed body. Too tired to render what just happened, I close my eyes and allow myself to sleep. Some minutes into my nap, I am awaken by the soft pattering of footsteps, only to spot the body has disappearred and a pair of eyes scurrying off into the darkness. Don't go to sleep, don't stay in the dark. They work through deception, masquerading as bodies, objects, hiding in the shadows. Even if it gets you, nothing will feel like it changed. You'll go on your life like nothing happened, but that's just another one of its tricks, and it did happen - and you are one of them now." Spoiler: There is a stapled photo here, folded over - away from me. I glance up from the Diary reflexively and quickly scan my surroundings. The bodies have disappeared. This is a public thread. You are encouraged to add legends of your own.