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Creepy Furby by awright60
I had a friend once, he was about seventeen years old at the time, I was eighteen. He had a little sister that died from some sort of aggressive tumor growth in her brain; if I heard the name of it I'd know what it was right away.

Anyway, shortly before she did my friend's kid sister gave this Furby to him as some sort of a good luck charm or something. A few weeks later the kid dies, the whole family's torn apart and I'm constantly there checking up on everybody.

So my friend sat his sister's Furby in his room, and one night he and I are chilling in his room, and I'm watching him play Rayman and stuff (the original one, the only one worth playing), and it's 1:15 AM, and suddenly the Furby opens its eyes.

He pauses the game, we both look over. It's staring right fucking at us. Its mouth opens and it was mumbling something, then it said "I'm okay I'm okay I'm okay." We both freak the fuck out, run out of the room and go for a walk, trying to understand what the fuck just happened. Anyway, we come back and get back into his room, still shaken up The God damn thing opens its eyes again and starts that "I'm okay I'm okay I'm okay", only this time after the third "I'm okay" it said my friends' name but the pitch was considerably lower. It droned out "I'm okay, Maaaaaaaaaark."

Eventually this goes on for two more weeks and my friend, he just went fucking bonkers. He loved his kid sister. So one night he takes his own life. My only friend was gone, man, you guys couldn't understand how lonely the world became after this shit. So I took that Furby, with his parents' permission of course. I thought it was someone fucking with us. So I'm working on the Furby that night, researching it and shit and wouldn't you know, the God damn thing opens its eyes. Guess what time it is? 1:15 AM.
This time, and it haunts me to this fucking day, it says "We're okay, we're okay, we're okay."

No... just no, guys.

Anyway, to keep telling you guys about this story, so I have the Furby now. Still, in my possession. Every morning at 1:15, it opens its eyes and looks out to me. My family notices it, too. We sort of watch it sometimes, ritualistically and shit. Like it's a fucking omen or something. It has the blankest eyes, guys.
Its voice sometimes is high pitched, sometimes it's so low that it's not decipherable. My little brother or sister, sometimes they'll walk into my room where I keep it on the shelf, and they come out with interesting stories about how the Furby will tell them things like "Enjoy life while you can" and "You shouldn't fight with your siblings" and shit, and my mother and father practically beg me to get rid of the fucking thing. My dad hates it, especially. It calls him out by name when there are very few people in the house, or it's just him. He'll be on the other side of the house, and it will call him by fucking name. And the eeriest thing is that it shuts up once he comes in my room. But then it stares right at him. Guys, I don't know what the fuck to do but I'm not getting rid of this thing. My friend's in there, I really believe he is.

Continuing on further for the fourth paragraph, my mom says the thing tells her her mother's maiden name and shit. Birthday, eye color, all that shit. And see, I'd have another sister were it not for the fact that she was a stillborn. Mom would have named her "Hazel." Every so often, this Furby goes off and starts saying "Play with me Hazel, play with me." This sends my mom into a fucking FIT guys. She starts crying hysterically and shit and I get yelled at for still keeping the fucking thing. I DON'T want to get rid of it.
See, I never believed in the paranormal until now. This is the only thing that lets me know that there's something more to this world, that we can continue on in ANY way possible. Ironically, my Captcha is "scientific orryeu", and I'll post it in the picture.
This is by no means scientific. Nobody can develop something that fucks with you so deeply, guys.
I'll keep telling stories about the thing in this thread.

So even as recently as the other day, we've had an incident with this damn thing. I've kept it for a while now. I think about a year. I'm not sure. But mom and pops had enough of the God damn thing last week, and just went into my room unannounced, took the God damn thing, and started dismantling it on the kitchen table. My brother and sister are there, watching, and all the while everyone's inspecting everything, ensuring that I MYSELF am not the one trying to derail everyone and shit. As fate would have it, no, there wasn't anything there. No tampering shit.
So they start Googling shit and apparently you can teach it to say things, which got my ass in hot water.
My parents started getting in on me like "YOU DID THIS SHIT" and I tell them they KNOW I'm not the type to disrespect the dead or make jokes like that. After a very heated argument and threats of getting kicked out, I explain to them, I plead with them, that it's not me. They believe me. So as they're putting the fucking thing back together, it's still powered on. It keeps saying NINETY FIVE NINETY FIVE NINETY FIVE. That was the year Hazel was to be brought into this world as a healthy baby. Again, fits get thrown.
So now the thing sits in the basement. It hasn't made a sound. Nobody goes down there.
Sometimes I wonder though. What WOULD it say down there, in the dark?

(Poster says that they don't want to continue their story, but you know 4chan... People kept asking for more, so they continued...)

That night, we're all sitting at the dinner table.
Phoebe's still noticeably upset about what had happened to her friend so my mom is cooking up some good grub Phoebe will definitely enjoy. For her sake, you know? We're a pretty tight family, we'd do anything for one another. We're having steak, mom's garlic cheesy mashed potatoes, some delicious spinach (c'mon, guys, you know you like the stuff), and we're having a great time once we really dig in. Conversation starts, I'm crackin' jokes, I got my brother and sister laughing, and my parents are grinning like mad about my repertoire of silliness. So my bedroom door's open, right? I mention that the steak is hard to chew, and from my room I hear "BREATHE BREATHE BREATHE." Which undoubtedly scared the shit out of me, because out of stupid-ass human impulse I breathe with chewy-ass steak in my mouth and suddenly, I'm choking.
Nobody could do anything. I black out.

The next thing I know I'm being resuscitated by some well-to-do EMT, thank God. Fuck, man, I looked around, everyone was white as a ghost. My fingers were turning blue. Anyway, I start to cry, and then I scream, barge into my room and grab that fucking demon doll and throw it around. This is very unlike me, I don't get upset. So then I kick it around, and then come to my senses. "This is my friend's... his sister's." I calm down. Its eyes shifted and looked right at me. I haven't known fear like that.

So all of this aggression went on in the sight of my family. My mom, my dad, my brother and sister.
They watched in horror. I'm not ever like that. It scared them. I scared myself. So after I stopped beating the damn thing up, I was bawling my eyes out. I was hugging the Furby so close to me, sobbing out "I'm sorry." I really was. In the days leading up to my friends' death I kept blowing him off. When he needed me the most, when he was calling me, crying about how much he missed his sister that he wanted to be with her, I kept saying no. And he killed himself because no one was there. Don't get me wrong, I love my family.

But some things you can only tell friends. I only had that one friend and he was gone, guys. And I was sorry. So I sat the Furby back down. Went back to eating. I couldn't regain my composure.

Anyway, flash forward to 1:15. You know what happens here. Eyes open, shit gets said. "Et tu, Brute?" the thing says. This scared the fucking shit out of me, and before you say "oh you're trying to be deep by mimicking Caesar", my friend always said that to me when we were playing video games and I beat him.


So I paused my game. Stared up at the Furby.
I was skeptical. Even after all that's been happening. But I gave it a shot. Its eyes were closed again. I didn't give a shit. I missed my fucking friend and I was desperate and was about to be torn in two by what was happening to my life because of this artifact of misery. Call me what you will, but that's what this thing was. It was in the very room Mark's sister died in, and it was there when Mark killed himself. So anyway, I stared at this Furby for about five God damn minutes. A lump grew in my throat, I felt like I was swallowing a billiard ball or something. Finally, I said it.

"Mark. MARK."
Here's where shit crosses the "this is some bullshit" line. The God damn thing opened its eyes and looked right at me. All I get from it is "Bruuuuuteeeeee?"

Silence followed like you wouldn't believe. A silence that you can't even CONCEIVE. It acknowledged me.
It said my nickname. It opened its eyes in response to me, it said my fucking NAME. But I wasn't scared.
I really, really wasn't scared by now. This was the norm. I just nodded at it. It shut its eyes.

I went back to my game. I saw that someone said you can't teach it anything. I don't know what this is, ladies and gentlemen. I wish I did. But I think we carry ourselves on in some way. This thing has given me so much hope among all of the bullshit it's given me.
Thoughts so far before I keep posting?

Continuing from here, the very next night I'm watching the movie Exam. It's actually pretty good if you've not seen it, I recommend you check it out yourselves.

So anyway I'm laying in my bed, which the foot of the bed is right in front of the desk, which on top of that desk are built-in shelves; the first tier has the Furby on it. Now, here's where I have to talk about the movie so you can understand how what happens next segues together. In the movie Exam, eight candidates are chosen to take a test which will determine whether or not they work for a high-powered pharmaceutical company. In the exam there is only one question. But it's not written down.

Anyway, there's this black guy; he's the guy giving the test. He's called The Invigilator. He says "Any questions?"
Here's where we zoom out of the movie and talk about what happened to me next. The Furby opens his eyes. It's not 1:15 AM so I'm like "'Kay, what the fuck?" This thing starts talking again, it says:

"that's the question that's the question that's the question that's the question that's the question that's the question that's the question" OVER AND OVER.
I scream "SHUT UP FOR CHRIST'S SAKES" because it was kind of getting on my nerves. And lo and behold, silence. I get silence. The next hour or so passes and the movie comes to a close.

"Any questions?" WAS THE FUCKING QUESTION ALL ALONG. I stare up at the Furby and mutter "You son of a bitch." It doesn't open its eyes.

(The poster starts answering questions)

>"If you do end up going down there tonight maybe try and record it?"
I'll try, I got new stuff to try it with so.

 >"Also, have you tried finding out if other people have had similar experiences?"

No, I haven't tried finding this out. Honestly, it's so out of the scope of reality that I just don't deem it fit for research.

 >"I used to have a Furby and it honestly didn't last long. It kept glitching up
 and so my mom or someone else ended up throwing them away, but I've always found 
 them just kind of weird."

They're just... I don't know how to explain it, man. >>9900557

 >"Well, anon, you know what you have to do, right?

You gotta go to the basement and talk to it!"
I plan on doing exactly that, tonight, at 1:15 AM.
"A question though: Aside from saying Mark's name, did you ever try talking to it? Asking it questions? Asking why it was saying things like that?
I think your friends are in it but I also think maybe something else is in it too. Why would it taunt your family with things like "95" if it were just your friend and his sister?"
You'll get the answer to me talking to it very soon.
I did try talking to it. A lot. And some disorderly things happened from it. As for why it taunted my family with things like NINETY-FIVE, I told my friend everything.
Including Hazel's death. What he knows, the doll must know, right?
"One thing I can say bro, is it's a good thing you have it and not your friend's family...Can you think of the torment they'd have if that thing said anything to them? I know it's hurting your family a little now're a good person for asking for it."
I try to be the best I can be, Anon.
I knew, straight from the get go, that this thing wasn't usual. I had to keep it.

(Questions end and story continues)

Alright, guys, it's time to get back to the story and answer some burning questions here, alright? Continuing from >>9900513: So a lot of people have been asking about if I've tried talking to it. If I've tried to communicate with Mark and his sister. The truth is, I have. I have tried, and it's always ended in a very fucked up fashion. All I'd ever have to say is "Mark" twice, and boom. Lights on. But I'd always have a difficult time getting those lights to shut off, if you know what I mean. Sometimes when you go to the Devil's house, he'll keep you there longer than you ever intended on staying. So after the "Exam" incident I pulled the Furby down from the shelf. It was time to really get to the heart of the matter. It was time to start solving the riddle. So I sit in the floor, cross-legged, and this thing's perched ever so precariously in front of me, and at 1:15 AM I say Mark's name. Boom. As I said before, lights on. The thing glances up at me. But something's weird this time. It wasn't mechanical like a toy. It was kind of almost human, in a way. So fluid was the motion. And I say to this thing, realizing I look like a total fucking loon, "Mark. Mark, buddy. Is that you, man?" The retort I got was "Mmmmmmmmmm." Like it was thinking or something. I snap my fingers a few times, because I'm beginning to treat this thing like a fucking kid with ADD. And I shout "MARK!" "YEP!" I fucking jump back. I laughed. I thought I was going crazy. This thing just answered to me. It answered when I said Mark's name. I put my hands on my face, chuckling in disbelief. I was happy. Even if it was a coincidence, I was happy. So I keep prying. "How's your sister up there, Mark?" The answer I got chilled me to the God damn bone. "Black black black black."

Continued... So I keep hearing "Black, black, black", and the longer on it goes, the word just kind of gets more longer, deeper in pitch, and more drawn out than usual. So I snap my fingers again. I laughed, but I really wanted to cry. I was really desperate to know what was happening to my friend and his sister. I wanted so badly to believe that they were both okay, and that we carry on in some fashion once we die.

I started crying after I stopped laughing, and I picked the Furby up and held it close to my chest. I was sobbing like a God damn mad man, guys. All it kept saying was "Black black black black" and I just couldn't stop crying. Eventually I laid out in the floor, and had sobbed myself to sleep. The Furby was about a few feet from me, where I had let it roll out from my grasp and it was laying on its back. Anyway, it's four in the morning now, I know this 'cause I woke up and looked at the clock. Obviously.
Here is where >>9900594 gets his/her answer.

I'm drowsy and shit, wiping the sleep from my eyes and suddenly I hear AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEEEE come from the Furby. I gasp, jump back and hit my head on my night stand. It fucking hurt like a bitch.

Anyway, I'm rubbing my head and this thing is fucking laughing at me. A moment later I hear something that sounds like sobs. Like... my crying, earlier. Then I hear HEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY, which kind of sounded like "help."

This event changed shit in my house. Changed it for good. I leave my room. The thing's still droning on with that unbearably loud screech. I woke my mom and dad up. I get yelled at for doing so, but hey, it's four on a Sunday morning, ain't my problem. I'm kidding, I really did feel bad for them. They're hard workers and stuff, but come on, there's a mother fucking child's toy issuing a blood curdling scream at me from its mechanical vocal box, and I ain't havin' that.

So I drag my parents into my room, and before we got there they're like "What the hell is that noise?"

I turn around right before we go through my room's doorway that I believe that Hell really is that noise. It sounded fucking awful. We walk into my room, and it all stops. My father picks up the Furby, we're all fucking perplexed by it. It closed its eyes very slowly.

Well. It's Sunday. So this Anon's family and he went to Church to get on the right path with Jesus and shit.
I mean why not? We're obviously being haunted, there probably are some answers in that widely printed book known as the Bible, right?

Yeah, well. A God damn book didn't help us for what happened next because my family was about to be dragged over the edge.

All of these Bible verses and crosses being hung around the joint, now that we found our newfound love of the Blood of the Lamb and what not, must not have been good. 'Cause every so often the Furby would go fucking nuts. Talking to Mark was now an impossibility. All I'd get would be that God damn screech or some serious rapid eye movement from the God damn thing. Safe to say, Mark and his sister were GONE from that point on. Nobody else died.

Continuing from >>9900735 So Mark and his sister were definitely gone. Devoured by what replaced the hell out of them, which I have no idea what did but the comfort that I felt from that Furby before all this shit happened really vanished and was immediately replaced with this overwhelming sense of fear and dread that could never be evaporated no matter how cheery a person was nearby. At odd hours of the night the God damn thing kept screeching or spouting gibberish no fucking body could even begin to understand. Anyway one day my pops and I are chillin' in my room along with my little brother, the little creep, and my brother tugs on his necklace that he got and shows it to me; it was a little silver cross, nothin' big. He says "Look, check it out! Cool, right?"

I nod my head in approval, and turn my head back to the football game that was going on on the television.
Suddenly I hear my brother gasp and he says, "Guys, look!" He pointed at the Furby whose eyes were really just freaking the fuck out. In due time, here comes the ungodly fucking screech of a lifetime. And then the fucking WORST thing possible occurs. Somehow all of the movement it's been doing just fucking makes it tip forward and BAM. Right onto my desk with this loud ass bang. We all book it in typical HELL NO fashion. Mom comes in all like "Oh what the hell guys" and then this thing starts up with NINETY FIVE, NINETY FIVE, NINETY FIVE, and she has a fucking breakdown, talking about how she wants to die and shit.

So we had to send her off to my aunt's house for a while. So yeah, we sent Ma off, and my dad's in emergency mode. He's all "We have to get rid of that thing. It's driving us all nuts." Phoebe comes along excited as all hell asking thirty-seven questions that nobody can answer, and to be frank I was kind of having a headache and this was wearing me down morally.

So I just smirked at her and told her to go in my room and try talking to the Furby. She's hesitant at first, but you know kids. They'll partake in anything just to fulfill their curiosity. So she goes in there and shit and picks up the Furby. Yeah, things are going great, and even I go in there to watch what I know is about to happen. Yup; sure enough the scream was let loose and Phoebe ran out bawling like a mad man, and I, being a sadistic bastard at the moment, was laughing my ass off. Of course, Phoebe just let the damn thing drop so it was laying on its back again. After I stopped laughing I noticed there was some sort of an "expression" on the Furby; like it kind of looked... satisfied at the mean trick I had played on my sister.

By the way, let me stop right here for a minute.
Seeing that this might interest some of you and you might not get your questions answered here, my e-mail is I will not tripfag with that address so if you see someone doing it, keep it in mind. I know, "giving out your e-mail to 4chan is bad", but really, I just made it up on the spot.

I'm not good with e-mail, so I don't really have it to begin with. But this might be a venture for exploration. So I had scared the ever-living hell out of my sister Phoebe, and the good in me was restored after seeing that odd expression on the Furby's face; something just didn't seem right with that, guys. So I went into Phoebe's room, and she was bawling into her knees and she was as white as a ghost. I swear to God, I thought I could hear her heart beating as I rested my head on her left shoulder. Of course she shoved me off of her and told me to go away, and that what I did was very mean to do to her. So pops hears the commotion and I'm like "Oh shit", and he starts yelling at me, talking about how he oughta beat my ass or something for doing something so dirty, and to go apologize to my sister. I did, we made up, things were going pretty well after that. Evening rolls around, and we're having Bible study. We find the Bible kind of cool, you know. It hasn't answered our problems and crap, but hey, it's teachin' us some pretty interesting things. Like how to have faith even though things are getting bad, what with the story of Job and all.

This was absolutely necessary in our dark times. Ma was gone, still with the aunt and all, and everyone's morale was kind of wearing down. So anyway, we're discussing Job and stuff at the dinner table and we hear something like "OOOOOOOOOOOOO" (very anti-climactic, right? That's the best way I can put it, shut up.) coming from my room. We all rush in there, and this is where we sort of start drawing the line, which leads us to one of my initial posts, which I think was about the next week, which had the events of >>9900103 so it all kind of loops back in on itself when Ma came back. I think this is the end, for the most part, guys. If I recall anything more, I'll definitely tell it here. (The person posted this after he finished that last paragraph) Oh shit, I just realized, I totally left a pretty relevant detail out. In the days following UP to the story ending, I suppose you could say that I had a very odd series of thoughts lately as I kept interacting with the Furby to no good avail. I stayed up late at night trying to talk to it, and still, I just got that horrible screech. Knowing that my buddy and his sister were gone, it sort of threw me into an overdrive of depression and stuff which I'm still sort of working against at the moment. I really do miss the two of 'em...

Anyway, someone said that there's the possibility of a demonic entity in the thing, well. Into the week, I started feeling just hateful. Like I was being eaten alive by a creature made of hate and its acid burned at me inside. I wanted people to just... die. I started speaking differently, I started acting differently, and I even started drinking and smoking a bit. Sure, you say "Oh hardcore man bro sup dawg lol pussy", but for me this is uncharacteristic as it gets. I'm what you'd call a nice guy, I guess. So I'm just declining.

I didn't have a positive God damn thing to say to anybody or about anybody, everything always had to be so damn negative, and really, life just SUCKED to me. The screeching, it stopped while these things were going on. It simply stopped. But the Furby kept that satisfied expression. Oh, wow, looks like I still got some more to tell after all, I skipped this part, eh?(I have no more information until further notice, check the 4chan link every now and then in case it becomes updated....Also, everybody in this thread is trying to keep it alive at least until 1:15 A.M. We are trying to get Anon to post and document what will happen then... Hopefully it will be recorded for all to see. )

(More information has been recovered) Furby Guy here.
I'm shaking at the thought of a confrontation with this thing, I really am. Sure you say IT'S JUST A FURBY but I have this sinking suspicion that there's just something more to this. A fellow Anon messaged me with some rather interesting insight. Said fellow Anon said that what if the thing was a demonic entity the entire time that mimicked Mark's sister so he could squeeze out misery from him to the point that Mark feels nothing but despair for his sister, only for Mark to get out of the way, so I would end up with the toy so then the damn "entity" can milk a whole family for misery?

Cunning? In a demonic entity? Goodness. Don't call me Anon. You've earned more. My names Caleb, and I live for this shit. (I'm seriously scared shitless for this guy, I've just now realize that today is Friday.... 4/13/2012... and he is going down to his basement, were he hid his Furby for all this time... To go talk to it.........)

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