I rushed over to the wall to flick the light switch. Something was in my room, watching me. It was lurking somewhere behind me, sitting in the shadows, and staring at me. This was more than just paranoia. There was definitely something there. I could almost envision it wrapping its arms around me and dragging me into some terrifying abyss. I sat in my chair and stared at my shadow on the ground in front of me. I watched as another shadow slowly grew over my shoulder, never taking on any definite shape. I looked back up and stared at my computer screen. I thought maybe that if I believed it wasn’t there, it would just go away. I held my breath, and tried to engross myself in reading the article on the website in front of me. I couldn’t help but notice how my computer screen showed a reflection of what was in front of it. I couldn’t help but notice the worried look on my face. I couldn’t help but notice the thing hovering behind me, staring at the back of my head. I could tell it knew I knew it was there. I screamed and threw myself against the wall, and slid to the bottom. I was crying now.

Scanning the room, I searched for the thing that was behind me, but I found nothing. My room was empty, except for a mirror. My eyes lingered over the mirror on the wall across from me. I watched my black fan twirl around and around through the mirror. I watched how the shadow of the fan moved all around the room. I watched how the mirror slowly began to tilt till I could see myself in it… I watched as a dark scaly hand grasped my shoulder. I was entranced by my own reflection. All I could do was sit there as I watched the black abomination cup my face. I screamed at my reflection to move as I watched a face made from the darkness itself whisper into my reflection’s ear. I gazed in horror as my reflection stood up and walked to the window. I gasped in pain when he smashed the glass with his fist. I tried to hide my eyes when I saw him pick up a broken piece of glass. I tried to look away when he forced me to stare into his eyes. I sensed his thoughts in my head. They said to me that if I was afraid to look, then I don’t need to look. Everything became tinted red when my reflection brought the jagged object across his eyelids. Yet, there was no blood. Not for him. He just smiled. He walked back over to the black abomination; it again drew him near and whispered into his ear. I could see it chuckle. I cried in despair when I saw a tear roll down my reflection’s face. I cried in pain when he jabbed the jagged glass into his throat.

I awoke in a cold sweat, and rushed to the wall to flick the light switch.

Outside of my city, there is an apple orchard, with a small cemetery at the end of it with only about 5 or 10 graves in it. If you visit the cemetery, it is customary to leave a small offering by the largest headstone, even an apple from the orchard will do. If you do not, every night you go to sleep that week, you will see an old man in your dreams.

On the first night, he will appear to be a normal balding old man. He will tip his hat to you and walk away.

On the second night, he will have a knife in his right hand. He will tip his hat to you, and walk off once more.

The third night, he will lick the knife, and laugh, before disappearing.

On the fourth night, he will appear closer to you than before, and lick his knife once more.

On the fifth, he will be practically on top of you.

On the sixth, he will appear as a skeleton dressed in rotted rags, still holding the knife, still making the licking motion.

No one knows how long this continues or how it ends, the victims have all either gone back by then and made an offering, or they have died of heart attacks in their sleep.

I’ve always had a terrible fear of being submerged completely in water. Not that I can’t swim or anything. My dad made me learn; he said I almost drowned when I was really young.

I was afraid of it because, for as long as I can remember, whenever I am under water and look up at the surface I see a woman reaching down to me with a warm smile, with glowing golden hair and dark blue eyes. Even if its just in a bathtub. It always happened, it was just normal for me, but i never got used to it.

It was unnerving, but also soothing at the same time. She always made me feel like it was okay. I still avoided it, though, because I was just a kid and it was really freaky.

I never told my dad about it as a kid, but I did ask him about my mom. He never wanted to talk about her. Sometimes he even got mad at me for trying too hard to bring it up.

It was only recently that I described this apparition to him. He nearly drove into a telephone pole; obviously he knew something. I asked him, again, about my mom. He still would say much, except that she died when I was very young, and that she loved me very much. He also admitted that her hair and eyes were those colors, just like mine.

So I did some research on my own, looking up her name for myself on my birth certificate and trying to find any references I could, any news clips about a boy nearly drowning, any thing. I mostly wanted a picture, something I could match to my guardian angel.

Today, buried in our town library, I found it.

WINCHESTER: Marie Withie, 28, drowned to death yesterday evening after climbing a razerwire fence and fleeing to a nearby resevoir. A funeral is scheduled by her family for the 25th. Marie was institutionalized just six months ago, after being found “not guilty” of attempted murder on grounds of insanity. Her husband Daniel Withie had acted quickly enough to rescue their infant child when she was found trying to drown him in a bathtub.

It’s a simple enough thing. It’s all a part of the body’s sleep processes. Sleep Paralysis, right? No big deal, really. Your body produces a chemical that paralyzes your body during R.E.M sleep to prevent you from hurting yourself by thrashing about during your dreams. No big deal.

Okay, so, you opened your eyes and you can’t move your body. It’s the chemicals. Oh, you can keep trying to wriggle those toes, but it’s not happening. Forget it. Just relax. It’ll go away. It’s fine. It’s normal.

Oh, now there’s something pressing on your chest, real hard, it’s making it hard to breath. It’s heavy, so very heavy, whatever’s on your chest. Chemicals. It’s all chemicals. Stop trying to scream, it won’t work. Your throat muscles are paralyzed too. You still can’t breath.

You are staring at a blank ceiling, you can’t stare anywhere else. Shadows flit across your vision, forming shapes you try not to think about. A clawed hand, a flash of jagged, shadowy teeth. All images from your subconscious. A face forming above yours, leering through black void eyes. You think you
hear sibilant whispering. Angry hissing, like a snake that’s been disturbed.

Suddenly, a sharp white light briefly flares in the room as a car pulls down the street, dispelling the shadows. The weight is gone. You can breath, your hands clench sheets.

You feel an eternity has passed by but it was all the work of a moment. You wriggle, just to prove to yourself you can. You sit up, take a deep breath and then laugh a little at yourself. Sleep Paralysis. Stupid.

You turn to shake your spouse awake, eager to share your experience. You feel paralyzed again, but it has nothing to do with Sleep Paralysis. You stare at the blood, the jagged wound in her throat, her wide, staring eyes, mouth opened in soundless scream.

You survived your Old Hag Syndrome.

She didn’t.

—
Credited to C. Noel Huff

A recent study by the National Psychiatric Institute in Boston, MA, concluded that no activity can account for the phenomenon known as nightmares. Whereas many dreams come from unconscious desires, most nightmares seem to come from an outside source independent of the individual. In fact, when subjects are asked to recall nightmares they are almost always found in the same memory section as actual physical memories, not the section where normal dreams are replayed. In other words, those aliens and creatures you see at night in your “dreams?” They’re real.

(ETA: Deleted the bitching post that used to be here for the sake not interrupting the creepypasta experience of future browsers, but thanks for the support & comments)

“Daddy, I had a bad dream.” You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it’s 3:23.

“Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?”

“No, Daddy.”

The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter’s pale form in the darkness of your room.

“Why not sweetie?”

“Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy’s skin sat up.” For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can’t take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.

oK so basicaly its like this. youare at a friends house for like the night or watever and then you guys are making out on the couch (yeah!) and then like.. her dad calls on the phone and says “no i she likes it more if you use the other hand… yeah” and your alllike “oh dude your dad is trying to give me advice on how to diddle you” and then she’s like… “i don’t have a dad..” or whatever… but what!? WHO WAS PHONE?

also:

So ur with ur honey and yur making out wen the phone rigns. U anser it n the vioce is “wut r u doing wit my daughter?” U tell ur girl n she say “my dad is ded”. THEN WHO WAS PHONE?