The Horrific Shape

My grandfather was a very religious and conservative man, but a very intelligent and loving one as well. I distinctly remember from a young age, he'd sit me down and read me writings of his favorite authors. H.P. Boxcraft's emphasis on the fear of the unknown, and Adolf Boxler's inspiring words filled my mind while my peers at school were still learning the alphabet. He was the one family figure I still looked up to in my adult life, and I'm still not over his recent death.

After my first year of high school, I could finally breathe in and relax with the summer around me. My parents sent me out-of-state to live with my grandparents due to my awful behavior regarding my sexual actions towards the trees my neighbor planted (I couldn't stop humping them). Little did they know, this was my master plan. I needed to spend more time with my grandfather. He was the only person older than me that I actually felt like I could relate to. One weekend, he told me "Brandy my boy, we're goin' camping!" This would've been the first time I went camping, so I was nothing less than excited. I remember eagerly packing my clothes into my school backpack, now with a new purpose of carrying my camping supplies, blissfully ignorant of what I and my grandfather would soon witness.

It was about 7:30, maybe 8:00 PM. Late enough to where the sky is dark but early enough where you aren't ready for bed just yet. We were toasting marshmallows around a campfire, something I recommend everyone experience at least once in their life. The heat from the fire warmed my hands while I listened eagerly as my grandfather read his favorite horror novel from when he was my age… until we heard something from a bush not too far from us. Both of us made eye contact as we realized the rustle it made was too big to be any animal from the area. We heard a human-like groan as well. There must've been a solid 10 seconds of us just sitting in silence, feeling the occasional cold breeze from the air hitting our skin. Too fearful to know what's in that bush.

What happened next was possibly the most unsettling thing I've ever experienced. What stood up from that bush... I don't even know where to start when describing that "person". It was like a box, yet was stretched vertically, having a prominent point on the top of its "head". Four points at the bottom that slowly came together to form the large point I just mentioned. "It's a fuckin' trigger!" My grandfather yelled. This thing, which I will now refer to as a "Trigger," started speaking to us. The diseased and degenerate slang it used was akin to nails on a chalkboard. "Shiieeet, you sum raycist ass brackas!" It spoke in it's disgusting and vile voice towards us. Out of fear and instinct, we both ran off like our lives depended on it. I could hear the trigger chasing not too far from us, spouting its slang to lower our morale. "We wuz kangz n shiieet! Raycist fucks alwayz hurting triggas like us! Triangle lives matter!" Every word I heard from that trigger made me want to throw up. I still feel sick from hearing those words through my memories, and it's awful. Luckily, we managed to escape the wretched thing. With it's lower intelligence, it was unable to catch up with us when we started moving in abnormal ways. Zigzagging was our best friend here.

We got the fuck out of that woods and to my knowledge, both me and my grandfather haven't been there since. We went back in the house and sat in silence trying to process what just occurred. "You know Brand, those are the same people who took my wife from me." He told me in a shaky and deeply disturbed voice. I wasn’t able to do anything but nod slowly, knowing we narrowly escaped a trip to the afterlife.

I don't recall sleeping that week.

(Written by BrandBox, 10/2/21)

Untitled Weed Story

Sometimes when I get high, it gets a bit weird. This particular time I was out at Caesar's Creek. I was asked if I would like to hit the boof so I did, I hit it a few times. I also got a rip of the bong. I've had better rips, the air got stale so I wheezed my lungs out. But after that things were fine. Then shit got weird. Suddenly my entire body felt really heavy. I could feel the veins and muscles in my legs. My feet both felt like they had bricks on them. But most interestingly was my mouth. It sort of felt like it was just bone. Not really cotton mouth, though I was feeling that too. It just felt like the rest of my mouth had kinda fallen off. Not in a painful way though. More like it was there and then it wasn't.

But that isn't what made the night pretty damn good for me. Let's just say weed gets me thinking, and all I'll say is I reached a particular understanding of the universe that I don't think I'll be able to express. Even now I don't really understand it. All I can say is in that moment I had the greatest peace of my life, because it finally felt like I understood the world around me. TL;DR I got high and reached enlightenment. (Written by Khaleeb, 10/3/21)

Elliot's esoMania

This was a story I kept out of my manifesto. It was so traumatizing that I didn't want other people to know this, whether I was dead or not.

The internet... All my suffering has been at the hand of forums, particularly Geteso. It has shown me the most horrific side of the internet imaginable. Yet, I still lurk daily due to my esoMania. It's like trying to win the lottery. You just can't stop spending money on tickets hoping that you'd win. It's impossible. However, I wasn't always like this.

I was in secondary school, only being about fifteen. I did what other teenagers my age did, browse /r9k/ and masturbate to ear-licking asmr. While browsing /b/ I came across an ad. I wish I could go back and destroy my laptop right then and there. Out of curiosity, I clicked the ad as it seemed to be some sort of "Esoteric" forum. I read the first thread at the top of the catalogue. "Geteso? More like 'get anally raped'" It read. I created an account using my father's business email, and lunged into the cold dark abyss.

It only got worse from there. Masturbating on /nsfw/, shitposting on the toilet, needing to delay The Day of Retribution due to my esoMania. I have also experienced a great deal of esoNesia. I forgot half of my post history and I forgot I had a fetish for blonde, white women. In fact, the reason why I didn't commit this massacre earlier is because I was procrastinating on Geteso. The forum replaced every single aspect of my life. Suicidal? Make a thread about that. Need attention? Create an alternative account and talk about wanting to have sex with an unspecified 13 year old user. I've been doing this since I saw that fabled 4chan ad all those years ago.

All my suffering... Is from this website. From you. My inability to get laid despite my awesomeness. Despite being the supreme gentleman. Fuck you and good night.

(Written by BrandBox's alt account, Elliot Rodgers, 10/14/21)