why
What? It’s true. (:
I didn’t say it wasn’t true. But omg Nigolas. Just omg.
The Rake
This is the most accurate image I could dig up of The Rake. Yes… I know it’s art, but there are no photos of The Rake. Only horrific images burned into people’s minds who live long enough to draw what they witnessed.
Upon posting what I had earlier and realizing everyone’s obliviousness to The Rake, I decided to explain to all of you exactly who, or more accurately, what The Rake is. The only proper way for me to do this is to share with you what I myself have read about it. What I can say is that it is a hairless human shaped being that crawls on all fours. Its skin is as pale as the moonlight and its eyes as black and round as an everlasting black hole. It speaks to you in your sleep and gives you little to no chance of survival. The Rake makes Slenderman seem like a pansy, but when they team up, there is no chance to make it out alive. As seen recently on the EverymanHYBRID series. Accept your fate or take it in your own hands.
During the summer of 2003, events in the northeastern United States involving a strange, humanlike creature sparked brief local media interest before an apparent blackout was enacted. Little or no information was left intact, as most online and written accounts of the creature were mysteriously destroyed.
Primarily focused in rural New York state, self proclaimed witnesses told stories of thier enounters with a creature of unkown origin. Emotions ranged from extremely traumatic levels of fright and discomfort, to an almost childlike sense of playfulness and curiosity. While their published versions are no longer on record, the memories remained powerful. Several of the involved parties began looking for answers that year.
In early 2006, the collaboration had accumulated nearly two dozen documents dating between the 12th century and present day, spanning 4 continents. In almost all cases, the stories were identical.A Suicide Note: 1964
As I prepare to take my life, I feel it necessary to assuage any guilt or pain I have introduced through this act. It is not the fault of anyone other than him. For once I awoke and felt his presence. And once I awoke and saw his form. Once again I awoke and heard his voice, and looked into his eyes. I cannot sleep without fear of what I might next awake to experience. I cannot ever wake. Goodbye.
Found in the same wooden box were two empty envelopes addressed to William and Rose, and one loose personal letter with no envelope.
Dearest Linnie,
I have prayed for you. He spoke your name.A Journal Entry (translated from Spanish): 1880
I have experience the greatest terror. I have experienced the greatest terror. I have experienced the greatest terror. I see his eyes when I close mine. They are hollow. Black. They saw me and pierced me. His wet hand. I will not sleep. His voice (unintelligible text).A Mariner’s Log: 1691
He came to me in my sleep. From the foot of my bed I felt a sensation. He took everything. We must return to England. We shall not return here again at the request of the Rake.From a Witness: 2006
Three years ago, I had just returned from a trip from Niagara Falls with my family for the 4th of July. We were all very exhausted after a long day of driving, so my husband and I put the kids right to bed and called it a night.
At about 4am, I woke up thinking my husband had gotten up to use the restroom. I used the moment to steal back the sheets, only to wake him in the process. I appologized and told him I though he got out of bed. When he turned to face me, he gasped and pulled his feet up from the end of the bed so quickly his knee almost knocked me out of the bed. He then grabbed me and said nothing.
After adjusting to the dark for a half second, I was able to see what caused the strange reaction. At the foot of the bed, sitting and facing away from us, there was what appeared to be a naked man, or a large hairless dog of some sort. It’s body position was disturbing and unnatural, as if it had been hit by a car or something. For some reason, I was not instantly frightened by it, but more concerned as to its condition. At this point I was somewhat under the assumption that we were supposed to help him.
My husband was peering over his arm and knee, tucked into the fetal position, occasionally glancing at me before returning to the creature.
In a flurry of motion, the creature scrambled around the side of the bed, and then crawled quickly in a flailing sort of motion right along the bed until it was less than a foot from my husband’s face. The creature was completely silent for about 30 seconds (or probably closer to 5, it just seemed like a while) just looking at my husband. The creature then placed its hand on his knee and ran into the hallway, leading to the kids’ rooms.
I screamed and ran for the lightswitch, planning to stop him before he hurt my children. When I got to the hallway, the light from the bedroom was enough to see it crouching and hunched over about 20 feet away. He turned around and looked directly at me, covered in blood. I flipped the switch on the wall and saw my daughter Clara.
The creature ran down the stairs while my husband and I rushed to help our daughter. She was very badly injured and spoke only once more in her short life. She said “he is the Rake”.
My husband drove his car into a lake that night, while rushing our daughter to the hospital. He did not survive.
Being a small town, news got around pretty quickly. The police were helpful at first, and the local newspaper took a lot of interest as well. However, the story was never published and the local television news never followed up either.
For several months, my son Justin and I stayed in a hotel near my parent’s house. After we decided to return home, I began looking for answers myself. I eventually located a man in the next town over who had a similar story. We got in contact and began talking about our experiences. He knew of two other people in New York who had seen the creature we now referred to as the Rake.
It took the four of us about two solid years of hunting on the internet and writing letters to come up with a small collection of what we believe to be accounts of the Rake. None of them gave any details, history or follow up. One journal had an entry involving the creature in its first 3 pages, and never mentioned it again. A ship’s log explained nothing of the encounter, saying only that they were told to leave by the Rake. That was the last entry in the log.
There were, however, many instances where the creature’s visit was one of a series of visits with the same person. Multiple people also mentioned being spoken to, my daughter included. This led us to wonder if the Rake had visited any of us before our last encounter.
I set up a digital recorder near my bed and left it running all night, every night, for two weeks. I would tediously scan through the sounds of me rolling around in my bed each day when I woke up. By the end of the second week, I was quite used to the occasional sound of sleep while blurring through the recording at 8 times the normal speed. (This still took almost an hour every day)
On the first day of the third week, I thought I heard something different. What I found was a shrill voice. It was the Rake. I can’t listen to it long enough to even begin to transcribe it. I haven’t let anyone listen to it yet. All I know is that I’ve heard it before, and I now believe that it spoke when it was sitting in front of my husband. I don’t remember hearing anything at the time, but for some reason, the voice on the recorder immediately brings me back to that moment.
The thoughts that must have gone through my daughter’s head make me very upset.
I have not seen the Rake since he ruined my life, but I know that he has been in my room while I slept. I know and fear that one night I’ll wake up to see him staring at me.Merry Christmas!
oh my fuck
actually crying
OH MY FKING GOSH!
UMMMM
BRB WHILE I FUCKING SHIT MYSELF.
WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK OH MY FUCKING FUCKING GAD FUCKKK. DAMMIT.
Congratulations, this post has made it onto The Best of Tumblr Blog! Trust me, this is big stuff right here. Found on the blog of abloodymess:
For $25 you can turn gift cards or other plastic into guitar picks!
Submitted by d3javu
Boys, just do it!——Tell her you think shes cool. Tell her why you think shes so cool. Smell her hair. Talk to her in movie theatres. Pick her up and pretend youre going to throw her in the river; shell scream and fight you but secretly, shell love it. Hold her hand and skip. Hold her hand and run. Just hold her hand. Pick flowers from other peoples gardens and give them to her. Tell her she looks pretty. Let her pay for stuff if she wants to. Introduce her to your friends as The coolest girl I know. Sit in the park and talk to her. Take her to the library, and playgrounds, and train stations. Tell her dirty jokes. Tell her stupid jokes. Write poems about her. Just walk around with her. Throw pebbles at her window at night. When she starts swearing at you, tell her you love her. Take her to shows of bands shes never heard of. Hold her hand in the mosh pit. Let her fall asleep in your arms. Call her. Call her back if she calls you. Sing to her, no matter how bad you are. Carve your names into a tree. Get her mad, then kiss her. Give her piggy-back rides. Go see her band play even if they really suck, and tell her they were great. Give her space if she needs it. Push her on swings. Stay up with her all night when shes sick. Make up pet names for her, but cool ones, not sappy ones. Teach her guitar. Lend her your cds. Write on her. Make her mixtapes. Write her letters. If she asks you to go to a show with her, go, even if it means a 5 hour train trip. Take her to cool shops, and let her take you to even cooler ones. Listen to all the bands she mentions. Dont tell her that her favorite bands suck. When shes sad, hang out with her or stay on the phone with her, even if shes not saying anything. Buy her ice cream. Let her take all the photos of you she wants. Look into her eyes. Slow dance with her, even if the music is fast. Kiss her in the rain.When you fall in love with her, tell her.
