Bury Me Below (Creepypastas)

Naughty Kids (Where Bad Kids Go)

When I was a very young child, I lived in Lebanon. The country was at war, and murder was happening all over Lebanon. I remember during a particularly vicious era, when the bombings rarely stopped, I would stay at home sitting in front of my television watching an unusual tv show. 

It was a "kid's" show that was on for about a half an hour and it was full of disturbing images. It would always have lessons within the tv shows like, "bad kids stay up late", "bad kids steal food from the fridge at night." Crap like that, ya know? It was weird and very confusing since half of the words were in Arabic and I couldn't understand most of it, but for the most part, the tv show should've been Rated R. What was strange, after every episode, it would always zoom into an old rusted door. Whenever the camera got closer, bloodcurling screams could be heard. I would be frightened by this very particular part every single time. When the screaming stopped aburptly, text in Arabic would appear, reading: "That's where bad kids go." Eventually the image of the door would soon fade away and that would be the end.

Many years later, I am now 23 and that same tv show would come on. One morning, I woke up beside my wife, Rachel. I shook her awake.

"Babe, you'll be late for work." I smiled as she open her eyes groggily. She smled, rubbing my cheek softly.

"Okay, but you need to go to work too." She smiled, more awake. I laughed.

"Yeah but I'm actually dressed," I kissed her lips softly. "Have fun at work."

"Have a nice day," she said softly, sitting up. I walked out the door and got into my Porsche. I was assigned to take photographs of this.....place. I didn't know what it was but it was located east about four miles away. They said that I'd know what it was when I saw it. I drove at about 30 mph, so I got there in about 10 minutes. I stepped out the car and took in a breath, it was fresh. The area around me was grassy and fresh. I walked a distance and stood at the top of a hill. I saw what I was looking for. 

It was a run down building, in near ruins. I snapped two photos and jogged over to the old building. I approached the building within moments. I kneeled down and picked up an object, it was an old action figure. I looked back up and slowed my pace. I walked over to the door and I pushed it open. I gasped, inside were a bunch of small tv and cameras. It was like as if it used to be an old television studio. I walked around, stepping on a bunch of trashed objects. I picked up a scrap of paper and examined it. It was burned and was very delicate. It was a picture of a little boy smiling with a lolipop.

Pedophile, I thought. I threw it behind me and continued to walk ahead. I approached a large two rusted door. I started to hear faint screams. I inched closer to the doors, the screams becoming louder. Suddenly I remembered, it was that very same tv show from when I was a child. I grabbed the doorknob, daring to open it. I screamed. Inside were the remains of little children. The bones were rusted with blood. But through it all, a single bolted, caged, microphone. It was hanging from the ceiling of the room and it dripped a thick blood. I turned away and ran away as fast as I could, never wanting to go back there ever again.