Scary Texts and Stories

The Noir Family

It took me a while to find the right creepy pasta for you guys but here you go, I credit the websites because I cannot afford to get in trouble for plagiarizing .:) 

https://www.creepypasta.com/the-noir-family/ : This website is very cool!

*TRIGGER WARNING* This story is NSFW. It contains strong violence, among other graphic depictions. If you are under the age of 18, or sensitive to such topics, refrain from proceeding any further.

DISCLAIMER: None of this information has been released to the public. What I'm about to share with you is highly confidential. My superiors at the bureau are trying their best to keep these killings a secret to avoid panic, but I can't keep my mouth shut any longer. You all deserve to know the danger that lurks out there. You deserve to know that no one is safe from this family. They are deranged, twisted, psychopathic killers. The following is my recounting of an interview with one of the Noir family sons and the events that transpired thereafter.

He was sitting there, staring down at the table. His hands were cuffed, and a bit of blood dripped from a cut on his temple. His name; Lucas Noir. The oldest son of the family. Aggressive, schizophrenic, delusional, and very deadly. He was picked up outside of a friend's house the night before, covered in blood. Thankfully, he surrendered peacefully.

I made my way into the interrogation room, stood there a minute to look him over, then took a seat in the chair opposite him. He didn't look up. Instead, he gently placed his hands down on the table and began fidgeting with his thumbs. I dropped his file down on the table. It landed with a loud thump.

"Lucas Noir. Born April 17th, 1991. I've been reading about you all night."

He raised his head a little, but not enough to meet my gaze.

"Age eight; you were admitted to a mental care facility after killing your cat. You claimed she was screaming at you, threatening to hurt you. You were released three months later."

He remained motionless.

"Age sixteen; you were arrested for killing a high-class drug dealer, Markus Haze. You were found not guilty, claiming it was self-defense."

He didn't say a word.

"Lucas, why don't you tell me what happened last night. Tell me what you did to the Walker family."

After a moment, he took a slow, deep breath, exhaled, and finally spoke to me.

"I got to Shaun's house last night at about eight. Him and I had been fighting over the last few days over a girl. I went over there with the intention of roughing him up a bit, but once I started, I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. Earlier in the day, before my father joined my mother at The Farm, he told me that I was a man, and that I should take care of the problem as men do."

"What does that mean, Lucas?"

"My father always says, 'If someone stands in the way of something you want, you simply slip a knife between their ribs, step over them, and continue onward.' So that's what I did, more or less. When Shaun's parents left to do some shopping, I smashed a vase over his head, dragged him into the downstairs garage, and killed him."

"Tell me how-"

"You know how!" Lucas shouted back, slamming his fists on the cold, metal table.

"I need to hear you say it."

Lucas took another deep breath, then continued.

"There was an old snowmobile in his basement. After dragging him downstairs, I laid him on the floor, grabbed a nearby jack, raised it up, slid him under, and lowered it onto his head. The weight of the vehicle crushed his skull, but I was still filled with rage. The key was in the ignition, so I hopped on, started it, and cranked the throttle. As the treads spewed his blood across the wall behind me, I finally felt good. I felt that my father would be proud of me..."