More Amityville

I found some crime scene photos of the Amityville muders perpetrated by Butch DeFeo. None of them are particularly graphic, but viewer discretion is advised. Click to enlarge.

The bodies of the DeFeo parents, Ronald DeFeo Sr., and Louise DeFeo.

The body of Allison DeFeo.

The body of Dawn DeFeo.

The body of John DeFeo.

The body of Marc DeFeo.

I feel a real sense of tragedy when I see these pictures. It's hard to believe that someone could kill their entire family in cold blood. What could possibly drive someone to that? The only thing I can believe is insanity.

I still wonder about a few facts of this case. How did none of the family awaken to the gunshots? the DeFeo home wasn't very large, and the bedrooms were right next to each other. Is it possible they were drugged beforehand? I'll do more research and find the explanation the investigators came to, if they even have an explanation.

Zombie Survival Tips, and a Creepypasta!

With all the "zombie apocalypse" news online since the cannibal attack in Miami, I thought it might be a good time to post some survival tips, and a creepy story about zombies!

The CDC released a "zombie survival guide" last year, thinking that if you're prepared for the zombie apocalypse, you'd also be prepared for any other type of disaster. Here are the tips from that guide:

Be sure to stock up on:

Water (1 gallon per person per day)

Food (stock up on non-perishable items that you eat regularly)

Medications (this includes prescription and non-prescription meds)

Tools and Supplies (utility knife, duct tape, battery powered radio, etc.)

Sanitation and Hygiene (household bleach, soap, towels, etc.)

Clothing and Bedding (a change of clothes for each family member and blankets)

Important documents (copies of your driver’s license, passport, and birth certificate to name a few)

First Aid supplies (although you’re a goner if a zombie bites you, you can use these supplies to treat basic cuts and lacerations that you might get during a tornado or hurricane)

And also be sure to follow these steps to prepare:

1. Identify the types of emergencies that are possible in your area. Besides a zombie apocalypse, this may include floods, tornadoes, or earthquakes. If you are unsure contact your local Red Cross chapter for more information.

2. Pick a meeting place for your family to regroup in case zombies invade your home…or your town evacuates because of a hurricane. Pick one place right outside your home for sudden emergencies and one place outside of your neighborhood in case you are unable to return home right away.

3. Identify your emergency contacts. Make a list of local contacts like the police, fire department, and your local zombie response team. Also identify an out-of-state contact that you can call during an emergency to let the rest of your family know you are ok.

4. Plan your evacuation route. When zombies are hungry they won’t stop until they get food (i.e., brains), which means you need to get out of town fast! Plan where you would go and multiple routes you would take ahead of time so that the flesh eaters don’t have a chance! This is also helpful when natural disasters strike and you have to take shelter fast.


Okay, now that you're prepared for the zombie hordes, enjoy this zombie creepypasta!


Hi, I'm Seth. I'm writing this note, bottling it, and tossing it in the brook by my house. Writing helps me keep my sanity. Hopefully, somebody who still reads will pick it up and come help me.

It started a month ago. I was down in my basement office on my computer watching old Mystery Science Theater 3000 re-runs. The phone rang next to me, but I didn't pay attention to it. It was never for me; on the off-occasion it was, it was usually my brother, and half the time we were on the phone my nephew would be trying to grab it and talk to me himself. Mom yelled down the stairs that the phone was for me. Yeah, I lived at home with my folks. Sue me. Anyway, I picked up. "Hello?" I said, paying more attention to the antics of the robots on the screen.

"It's begun." The voice was little more than a whimper, a plea, I didn't even recognize the voice.

"Excuse me?" I asked, wondering who on Earth was calling.

"They've come. I don't have much time, Jeff; you told me to call if what we did caused trouble."

Now a little worried, I said, "I think you've got the wrong number. This is Seth, not Jeff."

"DON'T GO OUTDOORS!" The person shrieked. Completely freaked out, I disconnected the call. It must have been some prank caller, but I wasn't amused. Rattled, I put the matter behind me.

Much later, I finished watching videos and shut the lights off to head upstairs. It was pitch black, but I knew the way. The dark seemed a little more oppressive this time, though. I shrugged off the feeling and went upstairs. As I passed through the living room, I chanced a look out the window. There were people outside, on a walk or something. I checked my watch and it said 3:00 AM. "That's weird," I muttered. I stumbled up to my room and drifted off to sleep.

I was a fool that first night. If I'd recognized what I'd seen, I would have saved myself the terror and just stepped outside.

The next morning, the news was on. That was odd, since my dad usually turned to the sports channel before we went off to work. I didn't even glance at it as I threw on a tie and stumbled into the bathroom. An uneasy feeling crept into my gut as I did my morning routine. I usually had to fight for bathroom space, but today there wasn't a sound. I peeked out of the room and saw that the front door was open, but the glass storm door wasn't. There wasn't a sound. Looking outdoors, I saw those same people I'd seen the night before.

I opened the door.

Immediately, their heads snapped towards me. I recoiled and leaped inside as quickly as I could, feeling something catch at my ankle as I did so. Their faces were fixed in expressionless gazes and their mouths were slightly agape and dripping blood. I looked down and saw one right next to the porch, withdrawing its arm; it had tried to grab me. With a dizzying feeling of horror, I recognized my little brother. Slamming the door, I locked it tight and stumbled back into the living room. The television was reporting that a disease was spreading south from Canada across the US. I shut it off and pointlessly called out to see if anyone else was in the house.

No answer.

So began my solitary existence. The news ran for a few days before they were caught. They kept making the most stupid mistake: going home every night. The electricity has stayed running; I guess someone left the switch on at the factory. Or maybe it's just northern New England that's been overrun; I dunno. The internet's been out, too, so that's annoying.

While the news was running, they called them zombies, going back to that old standby. I guess it works. I mean, they don't do a whole lot and they're definitely dead; they walk around until their legs rot out from under them, then they crawl until they literally fall to pieces. While they've got legs, though, they're fast. That's how they jumped my family, I suppose. And the police car that drove up to the house to see if there were any survivors... that wasn't fun to look at every morning.

They overturned my car while chasing him, so I'm stuck. Cops to the rescue again. They don't really need food, so they didn't finish eating the poor guy. But they dismembered him; that's why he couldn't get up and join them. I could see him gnashing his teeth fruitlessly, though.

For about a week, a guy on the radio pointed out that they were falling to pieces, so all we needed to do was wait them out. Then he got impatient and went outdoors. Nobody's been on the radio for two weeks.

I'm in trouble, though. You see, the house has no food left. I can't wait for them all to fall down dead all over again. I've made a couple expeditions to the general store. Lucky I had that sword collection upstairs. They're all too slow to catch me when I run, but there are so many that I sometimes panic. Last time, they nearly got me. I broke the front door getting back in; now the cold seeps in every night and I can see one standing out on the porch right now, not ten feet from where I'm writing this.


You're safe indoors. Don't ask me why they abhor coming inside. Whatever the reason, it's been my lifeline. Unfortunately, they seem to know that there's someone alive in the house. Don't ask me how; this fellow on the front step doesn't even have eyes anymore. Maybe they can hear a heartbeat or smell sweat... or blood.

I spent a couple days naming them. Some of the faces I recognized and gave their old names to them. The same old gang's been hanging around here for the last few weeks, slowly dropping in number as they fall to pieces. They've never wandered off, though. There are 79 who were once men and 63 who were once women out there.

Once, just to see what would happen, I shot one in the head with a shotgun. You know, to see if the old "shoot a zombie in the head and they die for good" adage had any truth. So I've actually got 79 who were once men, 62 who were once women, and 1 who was once a woman and decided to keep standing even after losing about 80% of her head. AND I'm down one shotgun shell.

So they wait... and I'm losing it. I talk to myself constantly and I ate a stuffed animal last night. The cotton went down hard, but it felt good to have something in my stomach again. There are no fruit trees around and, anyway, it's November. Water has been getting scarcer. The tap water stopped working eight days ago; lucky I'd filled a bathtub and every bottle I could find before it stopped.

Oh, great. Now the lamp's getting brighter and I hear a buzzing sound. I wonder if the power's going out.

Well, that wasn't fun. Total loss of power for four days. Every try sleeping in the dark, knowing that there are things just outside that will kill you and make you one of them the first chance they get? Probably, since these things are everywhere as far as I can tell. Quick update: I mentioned Herschel, that guy on my porch? One of his legs fell off, so he's sitting down and sniffing at it. Thank God they lose all higher brain functions. I'm pretty sure the soul isn't held captive in these things and that this is all the disease (or whatever) trying to spread itself as far as it can in the population.

I don't know if you've noticed this, reader, but the animals just don't seem to be affected. It's a small comfort. Of course, they die if they eat the flesh, but they don't get back up once they die. Weird, huh? I'm getting hungry and desperate. Maybe, just maybe, I can load the old .22 and bag a squirrel from inside. But how will I go get it?

On one hand, I'm a bit more optimistic that you're out there now, whoever you are. The power couldn't have come back if there weren't people out there working to restore order. I'm feeling lucky; time to grab a sword and go drop this in the brook. Maybe this whole thing is almost over.

Maybe. On the other hand, if it is almost over...

Why are there fresh faces outside today?

More Creepypasta!

Here's a short creepypasta, and a longer one. Enjoy.



In almost every building, there is one corner, one small enclosure that no one ever looks at. It’s the corner in the basement that has been blocked by a disused sofa for years; the thin space in the attic between the wall and the stacks and stacks of crates full of junk you never use, but could never throw away. The space that never sees the light of day, or any other kind of light at all. Where darkness does not merely dominate, but practically oozes out from around the edges of its prison. No one knows quite how long a space must remain concealed for it to acquire this particular property, nor if there are any specific conditions it must meet. But it is a far more common occurrence than you might think.

In newer buildings, when this happens, the residents often report feeling cold when passing by, even in attics during the hottest of summers. Whenever contemplating taking a quick peek to see if there is anything actually there, an unnatural dread seizes them, and they leave the room quickly, if not quite running. Once left behind, the feeling passes, and it is quickly forgotten, or laughed off.

What actually happens in these forgotten sanctuaries of the dark? It is impossible to tell. For while many such corners have been exposed to reveal absolutely nothing, some brave souls have lost their sanity through nothing more than an ill-timed glance. The safest thing to do when encountered with such a phenomenon; close your eyes, rip away the area’s covering in a single motion, then keep a tight hold on what you’ve pulled away. No matter what you hear or feel, do not get up, do not look around, and do not try to cover your ears. You might be one of the lucky ones.



Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas-based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn't kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.
The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.
After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself...
After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it... or rather didn't react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.

So did the whispering to the microphones.

After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming out with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.

They announced: "We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom."

To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice respond: "We no longer want to be freed."

Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.

The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones, to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them were in 'life.'

The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject's thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four 'surviving' test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.

The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.

Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep...

To everyone's surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject's teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives, if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.

In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When his heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point that there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word "MORE" over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.

The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake...

The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.

The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically impossible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.

When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. "Keep cutting."

The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.

Only one response was given: "I must remain awake."

All three subject's restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military 'benefactors' for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.

In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone's surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.

The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.

He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. "I won't be locked in here with these things! Not with you!" he screamed at the man strapped to the table. "WHAT ARE YOU?" he demanded. "I must know!"

The subject smiled.

"Have you forgotten so easily?" The subject asked. "We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread."

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject's heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, "So... nearly... free..."

Lizzie Borden Murders

The "Lizzie Borden" murders took place in Fall River, Massachusetts in early August of 1892. Lizzie Borden is believed to have brutally killed her father and stepmother, Andrew and Abby Borden, with multiple hatchet-blows to their heads. A few pictures (click to resize):

The house on Second Street where the murders took place.

A portrait of Lizzie Borden.

The head of the hatchet used to kill Andrew and Abby Borden.

The scene of Andrew Borden's death. It's believed he was taking a nap when he was murdered.

A pretty low-quality photo of Abby Borden's state after being slain.

Lizzie Borden was acquitted of the crime, but the evidence points to her responsibility. She died in 1927 at the age of 67, but her ghost is still said to haunt the house where her grisly crime took place.

Winchester House

The Winchester Mystery House, located in San Jose, California, is one of the most famous supposedly haunted locations in the world. It is also one of the oddest. The builder, Sarah Winchester, was married to the heir of the Winchester Rifle fortune. When her husband and child died she consulted a psychic who told her that the reason her family had died was that her family was cursed by all the spirits who had been killed with Winchester rifles, and the only way to relieve the curse was to begin construction on a mansion, and to never stop building.

The mansion is filled with odd construction elements to confuse spirits, and make it harder for them to find Sarah Winchester to haunt her. She had several bedrooms that she rotated between every night. It was probably hard to sleep, as construction on the mansion continued at all hours of the day and night.
Sarah Winchester built, demolished, and built more for 38 years until her death to escape the curse that her family's weapons had brought down on them.

Here are some photos of the mansion. As usual, click to enlarge:

The house as it looked near the turn of the century.

One of the house's many "doors to nowhere," supposed to confuse spirits.

A staircase that leads directly into a ceiling.

A strange staircase with steps only a couple inches high.

A photo of Sarah Winchester as she looked in life.

The Winchester House as it looks today.

A supposed apparition captured in the Winchester House.

More Classic Ghost Images

Here are some more classic ghost images you've probably seen around the web or in books:

This photo was taken in the late 40s in Australia. A woman only known as Mrs. Andrews visited her daughter's grave and took this photo. When it was developed, the clear image of a ghostly infant was visible. What is especially odd is that Mrs. Andrews's daughter died at 17. A researcher visited the site later and found the graves of two infant girls nearby, and assumed the ghostly child must be one of them.

This photo was taken at the Myrtles Plantation in Louisiana, and shows what many believe to be the ghost of a former slave known as "Chloe." Read her story here.

Newby Church in North Yorkshire, England has no known history of hauntings, besides this photo taken in 1963 by Reverend Lord. Skeptics say it's a fake, just a double exposure, but photo experts who've examined it say that's not the case. It remains a mystery who this apparition might be.