Encyclopaedia of the Impossible: Bielefeld, Germany

BielefeldPreviously: The Three-Legged Licca-Chan

Type: UL (Unexplained Location)

Period/location of origin: 1214, Germany; conversely, May 16, 1994, the Internet.

Appearance: Subject appears to be a city in the northwest of Germany. Founded in 1214, subject later suffered greatly during the Second World War; after having been bombed essentially to smithereens, subject was rebuilt, with modern architecture replacing the historic buildings of old. Subject is otherwise unremarkable. As of 2013, its population is approximately 330,000.

Subject may or may not exist, re: The Bielefeld Conspiracy.

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Unresolved: Cabin 28 and the Keddie Murders

keddie resortPreviously: The Miniature Coffins of Arthur’s Seat.

As of 2010, the town of Keddie in Plumas County, Northern California has a population of 66. Just 66 people. That’s why it’s not technically even a town; it’s a census-designated place. Exactly half of those 66 people were male and half of them were female; only seven were under the age of eighteen, with the other 59 being legal adults. Most of these adults — 39 of them — are over the age of 50. Although Keddie is undoubtedly beautiful, it’s not the kind of place you want to raise your kids — or at least, it isn’t anymore. A former railroad town that once harnessed the beauty of its location in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas by playing host to lodges and campgrounds, it’s known these days for one reason, and one reason alone: The brutal 1981 murders that occurred in Cabin 28 of the Keddie Resort. It’s been almost 34 years since the Keddie Murders rocked the town in 1981, and we are still no closer to knowing who perpetrated them — or why. And like so many cold cases, we likely never will. All we have left are the decaying remains of a former mountain paradise, a handful of spooky stories, and a tragic, unsolved mystery.

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Abandoned: The Dying Light of America’s Drive-In Movie Theaters (Photos)


Previously: The Penn Hills Resort.

I love a good multiplex with stadium seating and IMAX screens as much as the next girl — but there’s nothing quite like a good old-fashioned drive-in movie.

The earliest version of the drive-in dates back to 1921 when Claude V. Carver of Comanche, Texas screened silent films for the city downtown, with cars parked bumper to bumper to watch them. However, it was Richard M. Hollingshead, Jr. of Riverton, New Jersey who perfected and patented the idea. In 1932, the 32-year-old was working as a sales manager at Whiz Auto Products, a company owned by his father; but when he came up with the idea to screen films from cars parked in his driveway, he knew was on to something.

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The Most Dangerous Games: Frequently Asked Questions

bell book candle

It occurred to me a few weeks ago that an FAQ pertaining to the myriad games and rituals we’ve talked about here in The Most Dangerous Games might be useful; as such, here’s my attempt to provide one. The questions you’ll find here hail from a variety of places: Some of them were left in the comments for specific games by you, Gentle Readers; others are things I’ve found in my analytics for the site (that is, terms which, when Googled, tend to lead people here); and still others are questions I found floating around the Internet myself. I’m by no means an expert on any of these games or rituals, but I’ve tried my best to dig up a few answers through research, by applying what I know about similar rituals, and so on and so forth.

What follows isn’t an all-encompassing FAQ, but it might be a good place to start. I can always keep adding to it as necessary, so if you’ve got another question you’d like to see answered, leave it in the comments — I’ll see what I can do.

The Three Kings:

What if I have to leave my home and I have pets?

Take them with you. The safest thing, though, would probably be to make sure they’re out of the house before you begin the ritual — have them spend the night with a friend or another trusted pet sitter. Besides the fact that you’ll have to gather them up and transport them elsewhere in the event of a red flag occurring, they also might affect the ritual itself. What if your dog starts scratching at the door to your throne room while you’re in the middle of the ritual? What if your cat wanders into the throne room while you’re sleeping? The unpredictability caused by the presence of a pet might cause some undesirable (and possibly dangerous) results.

What actually happens if you stay in the house?

Nothing good, although I think it varies from person to person.

What happens if you look directly at or in the mirrors?

According to FableForge, there’s “some risk of psychological trauma” if you face either of the mirrors directly at any point during the ritual. Weird shit happens when you look into mirrors in the dark; given that a lot of what happens during the Three Kings ritual stems from what’s already going on in your own brain and/or subconscious, you could end up seeing something that seriously fucks with your head (remember Troxler’s Fading and the Caputo Effect?). Wrote FableForge on r/ThreeKings:

“I’ve seen people who saw crazy surreal stuff and were able to forget it after a while, and I’ve also seen people who simply saw themselves but with a certain wrong facial expression, and could never get over it…. I suspect that facing a mirror implies agreeing with its premise, to the point where the anthropomorphized expression takes over and dominates over all other options. It’s not ‘possession’ precisely, since after all it’s just a side of yourself taking over, but it’s still not something I’d like to go through if I could help it.”

Interestingly, though, FableForge also noted that one of the people who helped him/her develop the original set of instructions held that the biggest risk isn’t facing one of the mirrors — it’s turning your back to the other one.

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Creepypasta of the Week: “Lost Episodes”

televisionPreviously: “Mereana Mordegard Gelsgorv.”

What if all those “lost” episodes of familiar television shows that pop up so frequently in creepypasta tales weren’t just… “found?” What if they all came from the same place? What if someone — one, solitary person — was responsible for every single one of them? That’s the possibility Slimebeast explores in the pasta simply and appropriately titled “Lost Episodes.” Like most of Slimebeast’s stories, this one is rather well-written, indeed; it riffs on a common theme in creepypasta, taking it and twisting it in new ways that leave you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

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