God’s Mouth
I huffed and puffed under my breath as I stared into God’s Mouth. I felt like the Big Bad Wolf ready to interrupt the innocent little pigs as they hurriedly fortified their makeshift homes. I grinned at this thought and then turned my head to look for Margaret. She was a couple of feet down the hill from the entrance of the cave, holding a walking stick close to her petite breasts. “Hurry up!” I called down to her. I turned back to the cave, still grinning. An old, rotted sign outside read ‘God’s Mouth Cave: Keep Out!’ What a tired cliché.
Margaret finally made it to the entrance and stood beside me, almost doubled over and out of breath. I looked down and smiled. “Check it out!” I laughed. “God’s mouth. Wonder where Jesus’ anus is?” I chuckled to myself. Margaret was less amused.
“Give me the damn water bottle,” she said, exasperated. The open bottle met her lips, and for a moment I felt peaceful in a way, watching her drink the water. Actually I take that back. The ‘peaceful’ comment, I mean. It was more of a feeling that was sort of hard to put my finger on or give a name, but I could settle for a nice ‘content’. Content seemed to be one of those words that manifest itself when natural, human words seemed to fail. Again, an utter cliché, but it felt good to feel a strange, mixed-up sort of happy for once.
I sighed and turned my flashlight on. I pointed it into the cave. Black. God’s Mouth. This seemed like the antithesis of a Holy Spirit. I turned again to Margaret. “You ready?” I asked. She was finally standing straight up. She nodded. I clapped a friendly hand to her back and we walked into God’s Mouth.
The inside was not unlike the preview I had glimpsed outside with my flashlight. Dark, dismal, and endlessly black. It seemed to stretch endlessly, no matter how I positioned my flashlight. The rocky terrain was damp and imposing. The last natural light slowly disappeared behind Margaret and I as we made our way deeper and deeper. I found it strange how soft and compelling the world around me now appeared, despite the stalactites, stalagmites, and other various rocky formations being so jagged. It seemed that even amongst the pointed teeth of God I could lay down and rest there forever. It was comfortable.
Apparently Margaret didn’t agree. She shivered uncomfortably under my arm. I raised my eyebrows. “Need your coat?” I asked. I tried to look at her and make non-verbal communication as explicit as possible until I realized that we were lost inky blackness of the Mouth. I bit my lip and waited, but she didn’t respond. For a couple minutes we walked in silence. She stopped and stood motionless. I stopped, too.
“Why the hell are we even in here?” she said. She sounded irritated. I shrugged – more to appease myself than her – and shoved my flashlight under my face. Bladed shadows obscured half my face, the other half illuminated in a wretched mask. “Spooky!” I cried, chuckling. She didn’t move.
I sighed. “I thought you wanted to go,” I said. I noticed how my voice echoed against the cave walls at any volume. “I mean,” I began again, scratching at my chin, “You did say you wanted to go see some nature for our vacation. And you did sound impressed when I told you about my visit to Mammoth Caves a couple years back. So…” My voice trailed off. I could still sense her irritation.
“No,” she said. I frowned. “No, you wanted to go here. I wanted to go to a beach or something. But no, a cave. A cave, Nathan!” She sounded more like the Big Bad Wolf now. “I know that you have this weird fetish for spelunking or something, but I don’t really want to be dragged in to it. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to go on a trip and get into nature and fresh air, but this,” I could hear her arms flail and gesture about in the thick air. “This is cave air, not fresh air. This air is practically fermenting! Plus, isn’t this illegal? Can we please just leave?”
We both stood there. The only sound that could be heard was the electricity in the air being stifled and smothered by the damp atmosphere. Finally, I began to walk. I didn’t hear Margaret follow me, but I kept moving forward. Then, “Nathan,” she said, “Stop. Please stop.” So I stopped.
“I’m sorry,” she said. I could hear her moving closer to me. “I’m tired and I’m not used to running and climbing around and the like. I’m just tired.”
“It’s okay,” I said. She gripped my arm. “Really. It’s fine.” I shook my head. “Which way is out? I don’t remember.” I could feel Margaret physically pause. Neither of us could remember. Somehow, in the confusion of our argument, I’d forgotten which way we had been moving. Idiot, I thought to myself, I should have brought a goddamn rope or something to trail from the entrance of the cave. I had to take action, so without much thought, I turned 180 degrees and said, “This way.”
We walked for what seemed to be hours. My feet were tired and sore, and I could hear Margaret’s groans from behind me. She held my hand tightly. I felt terrible. This was my fault.
Then, I froze. “Hey. Hey,” I said, “Put your hand out. Feel this rock.” I could hear Margaret’s bare palm press against the stone. “Isn’t this, like…abnormally warm?” I said. She didn’t say anything. I began to work my way along the wall, feeling it as I went, shining the flashlight in front of me. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain on my head as the ceiling of God’s Mouth met with my scalp.
“Ow! Shit!” I shouted.
“Oh, Nick, are you okay?” Margaret asked. She seemed on the verge of panic now.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Please, calm down. We’ll get out of here soon, I promise.”
I started again, pointing my flashlight upwards now to see the ceiling above me. It seemed to be getting narrower. That was strange. “Listen, uh, Margaret, babe,” I said through clenched teeth, “I think we gotta turn around.” Margaret sighed next to me.
Again, we walked for a decent length. I kept my flashlight pointed upwards this time. Sure enough, the space in the cave seemed to become smaller and smaller. If there was any resonating light left in God’s Mouth aside from my flashlight, I’m sure Margaret would have been able to see the whites of my eyes, spreading in panic. We were completely lost.
I let go of Margaret’s hand and began to feverishly feel my way along the walls. “No, Nathan!” I heard her shout. I kept going. We had to get out. If we were lost, nobody would be able to find us.
I kept feeling along the wall until I abruptly hit a corner. “Fuck,” I said aloud. “Margaret, this seems to be a dead end.” I spun around on my heel. “Margaret?” No answer. Shit.
I began to repeat my process again, almost running as I felt the wall run past my fingertips. Cool, damp rocks and jagged spears. Suddenly, I found myself at a corner again. “Fuck fuck fuck,” I shouted. “Margaret!” I was belting her name out now. In the corner of the cave’s maw where I had been thwarted so many times already, I heard a noise. It sounded like muffled static from a television. I pressed my ear against the rock. It seemed to be getting even warmer now. I heard the faint sounds of Margaret on the other side of the rock. She was screaming.
“No no no,” I said. “No no no no no.” I began running haphazardly into the walls around me. With dawning realization came a wave of sheer horror. There was no entrance. There was no exit. Only these four corners and me.
I could feel blood begin to trickle from the cut I managed to get by bashing my body into the cave’s walls. They were closing in on me. They were coming in for the kill, and soon they would be pressing in on my skull and crushing my rib cage.
I sat there for hours, waiting for death. My flashlight was becoming dim and blinking. Finally, I felt the soft touch of these rocky walls press against my back. I began to cry as I lay down on the ground. I let my flashlight roll on the small hills of stone. As I quietly stayed prone, tears dripping down my face, I turned and looked at the flashlight. Its last, fading beams of light pointed at something not far away from my face. I squinted in the darkness. My eyes widened and I felt tears fall even harder from my face. The rocks were piercing my skin now and blood dripped from all sides.
There, in the last light of my flashlight, was the appetizer. The spotlight shone on a hand whose nails were painted red, and I screamed in agony as I watched God’s Mouth chew its latest meal.
//
Credited to The Abracadaver
God: “THIS IS DELICIOUS…. YES! YES!”
This is ridiculous. If he was crushed to death, how come he is telling the story? If you are going for this kind of ending, narrate it in THIRD PERSON, not FIRST PERSON.
This sounds much alike to The Cave creepypasta. With the spelunking caves and sort of an evil, ancient entity–which crushed (or chewed) the protagonist to death.
So anyway,
6/10
TL;DR = Reheated Pasta
old pasta is old
Agreed with Sherman.
Also, Who was GOD?
But seriously, I can see what you were trying to execute, the idea was quite refrshing, but not executed well enough.
There is not enough details and several loop holes.
Eg, what Sherman said, how did they find this place? Of all places, why did they decide to spleuk this?
His name went from Nathan to Nick, then back to Nathan? Lololol.
I can make up unintentional reasons why writer wanted to use 1st person:
- more personal than third,
- third person would be like, the God’s point of view.
You could just pretend that you’re channeling into his thoughts.
But why is he called Nathan and Nick at the same time
Predictable much?
God’s Mouth: Om nom nom
why did his name change from nathan to nick?, also when was it mentioned that margarets nails were painted?
What’s with all the spelunking pastas lately?
Eh, typical crappy sacrilegous Jewish writing.
What, you didn’t know? Abracadaver is a Jew.
That right there is why this story is a steaming pile of horseshit.
I like it in first person. It makes it easier for the reader to imagine they are the protagonist. Nice story. Unexpected twist. Could have used more to build up the terror and pain of being crushed by jagged rocks.
I actually thought it was going to be another psych story, featuring claustrophobia.
It had some tension building up, but not great. I would give it a 6/10 as it was fairly confusing. Was God’s mouth the actual name of the cave? Or did they actually know they were in God’s mouth? The previous CP here about a cave was better. The best was probably the end. I liked the imagery a bit.
That is what happens when you speak the Lord’s name in vain.
Not creamy at all. 4.5/10
the hell am i reading
1. the monster comes from nowhere
2. you put a strange emphasis on things i almost felt like i
was reading a sex short story at first
3. you spend so much time on the above point you made it
needlessly long and still had no time to build tension
Yeah, Pop and I had fun designing this cave. Great source of ground meat for pizza.
This is nice. I don’t mind the first person. I like it
Brilliant. Amazing. Delicious. This is one of the best pastas ever. Great grammar and details. At first I thought predictable, but I soon realized I was wrong. 10/10. ♥
So, at one point, she called Nathan, \’Nick\’. Just pointing that out.
You mentioned her breast size, but not her nail colour, so it is not entirely clear as to whether the cave \’ate\’ her or not.
Good writing, overall.
7/10
Ugh… this was not tasty pasta. Not necessarily really bad, just… bland. Plus I didn\’t like the way that the narrator talked.
5/10
Er, yeah. I\’m pretty sure that \"Nick\" isn\’t a short form of \"Nathan\".. Maybe \"Nate\" instead?
I too am confused by the random mention of nail colour, less so by the first person point of view.
6.5/10 – a bit undercooked, although still edible.
I hate the way you write. Your little comments to the reader make me want to never read again. If you can’t figure out a way to convey an idea without being “cliche”, but decide to convey it anyway with the sidenote that you know it’s cliche, you are not a good writer. I’m not gonna say you can’t be a good writer, but right now, you’re doing it wrong.
SO MANY CAVE PASTAS
Imo I think the “nails painted red” thing was referring to blood. Cause I mean really how can some random cave chew summat up and not get something bloody. >.>
I can see that the author was trying to be funny. Never should an author try to be funny in creepypasta. It doesn’t work. Even if you make the main guy a clowner, it just doesn’t work.
Anyway, due to my religion, I dislike this pasta quite a bit. And that is all.
This is a nice idea (and original too, I’ve never read anything like it before), but the ending didn’t creep me out. I mean, it’s good pasta, but it’s not creepy pasta. More like, spooky pasta…
Clint, seriously? The guy (or girl I suppose) two posts above me.
Clint, do you write? Can you write something better than this? Even if you can, I mean, geez. You can’t bitch and moan about free entertainment. If you really didn’t like the story that much, just don’t read it.
If the author’s writing really “makes you never want to read again,” maybe you should indeed take a hiatus from reading…and especially from offering your opinion.
Seriously, just because we visit this website regularly it doesn’t mean we’re entitled to the stories written here. Nobody has to write these, we’re just lucky they do. They don’t have to appease us.
Anywho, I thought this story was pretty excellently atmospheric.
I agree with Flash37 on everything, especially the religion thing. Slightly offensive :/ But hey it’s a free country, I guess.
But I did find this pasta interesting and worth a read. Just.. confusing and not too scary.
Nathan can be short for Nick :\
Not completely awful.
But “Jesus anus”?
i thought this was pretty good. could have been a lot better… the sudden focus on margaret\’s breast size was really out there… and the male lead\’s name change was pretty careless… and a few more paragraphs could have been put into building up the tension… but i liked the general idea of the rock itself eating them up…7/10
Now I want a sequel about the Jesus’ anus cave.
Stories do not always need to be in third person stupid…
Reheated pasta is yawn.
4/10
Even though it was kind of long, it felt very short.
But who was petite breasts?
If he had a flashlight, how come he didn’t see where he was heading to? If he would’ve just kept it pointing to the walls instead of the ceiling, he would’ve seen the structure of the cave better and stuff.
A cave, that eats people? A cave… that fucking eats people?
I really have seen it all now.
I shat brix because I\’m claustrophobic.
Why the hell would you not like this story based solely on your religious views? That\’s just stupid.
7.5/10
Wait… is his name Nick or Nathan =/
WOW! I like this pasta, although quite predictable but I liked it! about 8 or 9/10
Luca doesn’t understand why the writer called Nathan, Nick.
Luca also thinks that too much humor in the beginning ruined the end.
Luca thinks third person would be better.
Luca would not read again. Luca turns and trots away.
[quote="Rodina"]Dude, nice story. You pulled it off well! Today seems to be getting a lot of great new pastas.[/quote]
Also, I didn’t realize that I switched Nick and Nathan around. My bad.
And a Jesus’ Anus sequel to this story is currently in the works.
Ack, I hates enclosed spaces. :p Very yummy pasta, left me feeling all claustrophobic inside.
Hi my name is Rachel I love creepypasta.com
Knew it was going to end with omnomnomming
I thought it was decent pasta
“Hey Nathan” “Hey, Nick” Hey Nathan” Hey Jorge”
Moldy pasta is moldy.
WTF. Not enough details at all.
I LOVE CAVE PASTAS! This one was the perfect length, and also, God wanted me to tell you, NOM NOM NOM!
I liked this more when I saw it in Empire Strikes Back
“Petite Breasts” threw me off. >.>
[quote="abracajewver"]Also, I didn’t realize that I switched Nick and Nathan around. My bad.
And a Jesus’ Anus sequel to this story is currently in the works.[/quote]
Get the fuck off this predominantly christian site, fuckhole. And go suck a dreidel or eat some of those chocolate-covered Hanukkah moneys.
” I didn’t realize that I switched Nick and Nathan around. ”
Wawawah, I’m OP and I don’t proofread my stories!
God, I hate you. However good or admittably mediocre your pasta may be.
So … God is a cannibal?
i actually liked it overall, but i feel like the beginning where it mentioned her “petite breasts”, it almost felt like a short sex story from cosmo mags haha.
mildy creepy cave adventure, had potential, but ending was a bit confusing. nice descriptions though.
Rodina from the forums, kindly take that stick up your arse out. Thank you. [LOL my phone autocorrected Rodina to Toxins.]
I’d give the creepypasta 6.5/10, because I was a bit confused there at the end. But good, otherwise. And geez, guys. Stop hating on him because he mixed up a name! You guys could understand it otherwise….
“Get the fuck off this predominantly christian site, fuckhole. And go suck a dreidel or eat some of those chocolate-covered Hanukkah moneys.”
Sounds like someone needs to learn to take a joke. Chill out.
\"Get the fuck off this predominantly christian site, fuckhole. And go suck a dreidel or eat some of those chocolate-covered Hanukkah moneys.\"
Sounds like someone needs to learn to take a joke. Chill out.
Poor Margie and her small boobs.
depressing end. gah.
It’s a pretty good story, but I’m a bit confused by some details. What are the corners supposed to be in the end and where did they come from? Why does it take hours for Nathan to die? How did Nathan and Margaret get split up by a wall? Whose hand and what meal is Nathan seeing? (Margaret?) What happened to Margaret–if they were split up by the wall and he’s trapped with because of the corners, how does he suddenly seem to see her again?
When Nathan and Margaret touch the wall, they said it was abnormally warm, and it made me think of an episode of Spongebob where they’re looking for a giant worm–a character enters a cave, only to realize that wasn’t a cave, but the inside of the creature’s mouth.
So I thought maybe that was the same situation here. But then later on, a wall is described as feeling cool. Was it the cave eating them, was the cave actually a creature, or was there a giant creature farther down inside the cave?
And then a SKELETON POPPED OUT!!!
Personally, if I were to write a story like this in the first person, I would want to write in the present tense, not the past tense. If the whole point is to make your audience wrapped up in the story, they shouldn’t read it as though the main character is recalling this from memory (in hindsight, that’s impossible–because he’s dead). Present tense gives readers the impression that main character doesn’t know what is to happen, making emotions run high.
The plot was still cool. Compared to that, the whole first-person/past-tense things seems insignificant.
They were delicious.