Ickbarr Bigelsteine
When I was a small child, I was terrified of the dark. I still am, but back when I was around six years old I couldn’t go a full night without crying out for one of my parents to search beneath my bed or in my closet for whatever monster I thought was waiting to eat me. Even with a night light, I would still see dark shapes moving around the corners of the room, or strange faces looking in on me from my bedroom window. My parents would do their best to console me, telling me that it was just a bad dream or a trick of the light, but in my young mind I was positive that the second I fell asleep, the bad things would get me. Most of the time I would just hide under the blankets until I became tired enough to stop worrying, but every now and then I would become so panicked that I would run screaming into my parents room, waking up my brother and sister in the process. After an ordeal like that, there would be no way anyone would be getting a full nights rest.
Eventually, after one particularly traumatizing night, my parents had had enough. Unfortunately for them, they understood the futility in arguing with a six year old and knew that they would be unable to convince me to rid myself of childish fears through reason and logic. They had to be clever.
It was my mother’s idea to stitch together my little bedtime friend.
She collected a large assortment of random pieces of fabric and her sewing machine and created what I would later refer to as Mr. Ickbarr Bigelsteine, or Ick for short. Ick was a sock monster, as my mother called him. He was made to keep me safe while I slept at night by scarring away all the other monsters. He was pretty damn creepy, I had to admit. Honestly, looking back on it all now, I’m still impressed that my mom could think of something so strange and disturbing looking. Ickbarr had the stitched together look of a Frankenstein gremlin, with big white button eyes and floppy cat ears. His little arms and legs were made from a pair of my sister’s black and white striped socks, and the half of his face that was green was made from one of my brother’s tall football socks. His head could have been described as bulbous, and for his mouth my mom attached a piece of white fabric and sewed in a zigzag pattern to shape a wide grin of sharp teeth. I loved him at once.
From then on, Ick never left my side. So long as it was after dusk, of course. Ick didn’t like the sun, and would get upset if I tried to bring him to school with me. But that was okay, I only needed him at night to keep away the boogeymen, which was what he was good at. So every night at bedtime, Ick would tell me where the monsters were hiding, and I would place him near the section of my room closest to the spookiness. If there was something in the closet, Ick would block the door. If there was a dark creature scratching at my window, Ick would be pressed up against the glass. If there was a big hairy beast under my bed, then under the bed he went. Sometimes the monsters weren’t even in my room. Sometimes, they would hide in my dreams, and Ickbarr would have to come with me into my nightmares. It was fun bringing Ick into my dream world, as he and I would spend hours fighting off ghouls and demons. The best part was, in my dreams, Ick could talk to me for real. “How much do you love me?” He would ask.
“More than anything.” I would always tell him. One night in a dream, after I had lost my first tooth, Ick asked me for a favor.
“Can I have your tooth?”
I asked him why.
“To help me kill the bad things.” He said.
The next morning at breakfast, my mom asked me where my tooth went. From what she told me, the “tooth fairy” didn’t find it under my pillow. When I told her that I gave it to Ickbarr, she just shrugged and went back to feeding my little sister. From then on, every time I lost a tooth, I would give it to Ick. He would always thank me, of course, and tell me that he loved me. Eventually though, I ran out of baby teeth, and I was beginning to get a little too old to still be playing with dolls. So Ick just sat there on my bookshelf collecting dust, slowly fading away from my attention.
Over time the nightmares, however, became worse than ever. So bad that they even began to follow me to the waking world, terrorizing every dark corner or rustle in the bushes. After one particularly bad night biking home from a friend’s house where I swore a pack of rabid dogs were chasing me, I got home to find something strange waiting for me in my room. There, on my bed, standing fully upright in the soft glow of the moon light from my window, was Ickbarr. At first I just thought my eyes were playing tricks on me again, they had been all evening, so I tried to flick on the lights. Another flick of the light switch. Then another, and another, with no change to the darkness. It was then that I started to get nervous.
I backed away slowly towards the door behind me, my eyes never leaving the shape of Ick’s silhouette, my hand awkwardly outstretched behind reaching for the doorknob. I was just about to get my ass out of there when I heard the door slam itself shut, locking me into blackness. In nothing but shadows and silence, I stood frozen in place, not even breathing. For how long I can’t say, but after what felt like a lifetime of cold fear, I heard the shrill, familiar voice.
“You stopped feeding me, so why should I protect you?”
“Protect me from what?”
“Let me show you.”
I blinked once, and everything changed. I wasn’t in my bedroom anymore, I was somewhere… else. It wasn’t Hell, but the comparison wasn’t far off. It was some sort of forest, a horrible, nightmarish place where partial embryonic abortions hung from the canopy, and the ground swarmed with carnivorous insects. A thick fog wafted through the air and with it the stench of rotting meat, while chartreuse lightening flashed across the night sky. In the distance, I could hear the agonizing screams of something not quite human. My head throbbed like it was about to explode, the pain forcing out a river of tears. In my mind, I heard his voice again.
“This is what your reality would become without me.”
I felt earth shaking footsteps approaching fast.
“I’m the only one who can stop it.”
It was behind me now, huge and angry, hot breath across my back.
“Bring me what I need, and I will.”
I woke up before I could turn around.
The following day I raided my parent’s closet for my brother’s baby teeth, giving them all to Ickbarr. Almost immediately the night terrors ceased, and I was more or less able to go on about my life as normal. From time to time, I would have to sneak into my little sister’s room and snatch what was meant for the tooth fairy, or strangle one of the neighborhood cats and pry out its sharp little incisors. Anything to ward off the visions, anything from a shark tooth necklace to a cavity ridden bicuspid. I also began to notice that Ick would move about my room whenever I left for any length of time, rearranging my stuff and hanging additional curtains. He was even beginning to look more lifelike, somehow. In the right light his teeth would glisten, and he was warm to the touch. As much as he creeped me out, I couldn’t work up the courage to just destroy him, knowing perfectly well where that would leave me. So I went on collecting teeth for Ick throughout all of high school and college. The older I got, the more things I would learn to fear, the more teeth Ick would need to keep me safe.
I’m 22 years old now, with a decent job, my own apartment, and a set of dentures. It’s been almost a month since Ick’s last meal, and the horrors are starting to crowd around me once more. I took a detour through a parking garage after work tonight. Found a man fumbling with his car keys. His teeth were stained yellow from a lifetime of cigarettes and coffee. Even still, I had to use a hammer to get out the molars. When I got back to my apartment, he was waiting for me. On the ceiling, in the corner. Two white eyes and mouth of razors.
“How much do you love me?” He asks.
“More than anything,” I reply, taking off my coat.
“More than anything in the world.”
Credit To: Stephan D. Harris
Ickbarr Bigelsteine,



Great pasta. Wasn’t too creepy, but good story. The main character is kind of a jerk, as he murders people to keep himself safe.
he doesn’t murder people
read the last paragraph again.
He knocked the molars out with a hammer, it doesn’t really make you infer that he killed him.
What infers that he killed him is that the man probably wouldn’t willingly let the kid take his teeth.
I’m not sure wether or not you realize that if you lose more than one tooth, or even all your teeth, you’ll still live. I got 6-7 teeth pulled all at once a couple months ago and I’m still alive, so the man who lost his teeth could still be alive
Your teeth were pulled with the influence of drugs, tools, and a skilled dentists. No I’m sure a man wouldn’t willingly let a stranger knock itu his teeth would he? He must have been knocked out or KILLED prior, and seeing that this is a creepypasta, I’m pretty sure he isn’t alive anymore.
Do you not realize that he forced the teeth out with a hammer! And I pretty sure It’s not comfortable to have a hammer in you mouth. And honestly I an sure the old man wouldn’t let him do that.
And of course there’s no chance that he just knocked him unconscious…
Well he murders cats, which is pretty nasty
it never said he murdered cats it said and this is copied and pasted. or strangle one of the neighborhood cats and pry out its sharp little incisors. strangled doesnt imply killed he could have but he also could have choked it until it blacked out dont assume cause it makes an ass out of you and me
Well, this is a creepypasta, why wouldn’t he strangle the cats until they’re dead? He probably killed the guy at the end, too.
I figured I’d share something that I found interesting:
When I was six years old, similarly to the character in this story, my family was at a Christmas party (I am unsure if we were having the party, or not), and finding myself perhaps bored, perhaps impatient at the idea of waiting to open presents, I went looking under (our?) Christmas tree. I saw a stuffed rabbit underneath, and for reasons still unclear to me, I figured he was mine, or should be, and so I claimed him as mine.I named him Kwik (though I often spell his name Quik, Quick, Kuiq, and otherwise), as my name starts with a K, and I thought the name suited a bunny perfectly. The irony of not having any certain spelling to his own name is in the way having him around could help me spell better. I had been in spelling bees all throughout school, and I still love writing and reading. I would often sit at home, with my mom and brothers asking me to spell difficult words for them (it’s surprising what can be entertaining, sometimes). My mom asked me to spell antidisestablishmentarianism, and I got it wrong by just a few letters. Kwik (whom I had created a voice for) spelled it correctly, after I had just barely failed to do so. While you could just call it a second try, it seemed that whenever I couldn’t spell something, Kwik could. Over the years, he has worn down, and my aunt has always put him back together for me. The feature of his that changes the most are his eyes. They started small, but every time I replace them, I make them larger. It just seems to keep him young and cute looking. I am a big…..coward, I guess you could say, at times. I don’t believe I am afraid of the dark, but my mind can make it unbearably frightening at night, some times. I am deathly afraid of, but also utterly fascinated by extraterrestrials… so almost every night, they come into my mind. Kwik helps me feel comfortable enough to sleep. It sounds strange, because I am not a child anymore, and still sleep with him, but what I found strangest of all was that I am 22. The same age as the character in this story. While I’d like to end this with, “Last night…I woke up and saw Kwik standing at the foot of my bed, watching the window.”, or something like that, because that would be as creepy as Hell, he did not. He has been in places before where I know I did not put him, but to anyone outside of my family, it’s not something that sounds believable. I just figured I’d share.
P.S.- Kwik helped me spell antidisestablishmentarianism in this comment.
Pasta within a pasta…nice
Tee he he.
Pastaception
Pasception
That’s strange… When I was a small child, my brother got this stuffed monkey. I didn’t have any stuffed animals so I wanted one, also. But I got a stuffed lion one year. I named it Leo. Leo always seemed real to me, and I would take him on long trips sometimes when I was little. Come to think of it, he’s still in my closet, i’m pretty sure. But he’s looked different through the years. His mane looks slightly less magnificent, everything about him seems duller. When I was little, I had dreams where Leo was a real lion, and I would ride him, fighting off some sort of zombie-like creatures. As I got older, however, the dreams got more morbid. The zombie like creatures seemed to get larger and more grotesque, and instead of the jungle, one time it took place in some sort of house. I’ve never seen this house before, but in my dream, the walls were decaying, with plants growing through them. It was foggy, and the floor creaked with every step. In my dream, I saw some sort of figure. The thing advanced towards me with a knife. I turned around, and tried escaping, but the door wouldn’t budge at all. I could feel a sharp pain, which was weird. I could actually feel the pain in my dream. Anyways, I saw blood and then behind the figure, I saw a realistic Leo. He ripped the figure to pieces, and I woke up. I looked around my room, and I couldn’t help but look around. I saw Leo, and he was in my open closet His face was pointed towards me, as though he was staring. That was the last dream I had of him. Much like Czikkan, however, it’s not too out of the ordinary.
Pasta within a pasta within a pasta. Nice :’)
Pretty creepy, my friend. Not sure if you were just telling a story, but it was oddly similar to my situation with Kwik, and entertaining nonetheless. Thanks for sharing, pal.
It kind of makes me feel better that I’m not the only one simultaniously terrified and fascinated by extraterrestrials. I have that same problem. I’ll read reported stories about abductees and what-have-you prior to laying down to sleep and I will lie there and torture myself by thinking about thoses experience over and over again in the dark. But t’s a topic that I simply can not stop learning about.
Anyway, your story somehow resonated with me.
I wish I had a Kwik of my own to protect me.
I’m scared of space. Not open space I mean space as in astronauts .
I own a stuffed dog named Pugsley. He made a sound when you pressed his hand. Just thought I’d join the bandwagon.
You do what you can to keep yourself alive.
I loved it, really creative.
I don’t get it
LOVE.LOVE.LOVE.
And once again, the childhood plush dolls are set out to destroy the protagonist! We need to just burn all of them at this rate.
Seriously though, this one was well done. Maybe a little more detail on his adult life and how he murders people or a scene where he takes out his own teeth. Nicely done, much better than Mr. Widemouth in my opinion.
If you destroyed them all, then our fear would wander into their ashes, and ashes, unlike dolls, can’t be simply burned…
You can disolve ashes in water though then run the water through a purifier
Yes I should drink my childhood friend when I’m thirsty, Brilliant XD
BETTER THAN MR. WIDEMOUTH!!?!!?!?
This was a great story but Mr. Widemouth is incomparable.
Mr. Widemouth is quite amazing teehee:)
It didn’t say he murdered people, he may have knocked out that man and bashed out his teeth.
Well I had a stuffed animal named… No just kidding
bit of a loose ending but otherwise impressive
Loved it mate. Nice one.
that was great
I like this one, the ending left the story all dark and inconclusive. I love that in a story, never ending more to wonder. I hope to see more
That was a solid 8. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it – it just didn’t have any features that REALLY made it feel special, I guess.
I think this would make a good cartoon – one of those “not-quite-for-kids” stories like Coraline (which was also an 8, IMO).
well seems i have no choice, i’m going to have to burn my teddy bear that’s kept in my attic. nice pasta! i rate it a 9
Dude lol
Better burn it before it comes back and kills you. lol
I would have bought a ton of shark tooth necklaces!
How about normal teeth that aren’t sharp? He may use the teeth and kill you
Great story reminded me of my bear when I was a kid and how I found him
In a box a couple years back and he was all tore up and looked really upset freaked me out, well
Done on this
This was personally unnerving for me, because as a child I was scared that my dolls, and stuffed animals were going to kill me. I had one teddy that I trusted, but the rest were shady as shit. I would talk out loud to them, to be super nice and to cover my ass. This story made me very nervous. My dog barked at a passing car while I was reading this and I jumped, I’m ashamed to say. Job Well done! The writing wasn’t over stylized, and though it was vague, I think you put it the important facts that shaped it.
You just described me.
Wow! This is great a great Pasta , I love how it dosn’t have a conclusion it’s great!
12/10
Oh, Ickbarr! You’re silly. Go back to fighting monsters!
Don’t tell Ickbarr what to do, he’ll eat your soul. Just tell him you love him, give him your teeth and continue on with your life.
ICK IS MY FUCKING FRIEND.
im back
You’re not Ickbarr. Ickbarr doesn’t know how to use a computer.
Never. Ever Question Ickbarr again…
This is one of my favorite pastas.
No buts about it, Ickbarr is a Heartless, that demon world was the End of the World, and he needs teeth instead of hearts
Sooo he’s a Toothless then?
I’m on it.
Haa kh referece
How can I get ahold of the author? I’d like to get permission to post this a reading of this. I liked the story a lot and made a recording of it. You can listen to it below:
http://youtu.be/ZCujI0R1ttw
I still haven’t made this video public because I’d like to get the author’s permission before posting it.
You have my permission.
You have my permission. Contact me at Stephan.d.harris@gmail.com
this pasta would be the best movie ever it
it got into the right hands!!1!!!111!!!!!!
Totally!!!11!!!!1!111oneone!!!one1!!!!1111!one!!!!!1111!one!1
Ickbarr, Mr.Widemouth, & Teddy fighting. Who would win?
Hmm… what would happen if he was like Ted the living bear and he would just give the monsters the “finger”, like “fuck you that’s why” or berate the heck out of them like saying overly-mean yo momma jokes and stuff. Very hilarious.
Aim,the taco would. I like rainbows….
But only in prison rules. Otherwise, the grilled cheese wins
lmaoooo Hot Rod reference xD
It was a good story, but it more or less stole the back story to “Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark”. Only, instead of giving them teeth to get a relative back, it was to protect himself, and instead of faeries, it was a sock thing. Very well written overall though.
Well that’s just the remake. If you watch the original, its much different
Probably a good idea to stop sleeping with my homemade Heartless now…
Wow, that was great, I loves the description of the doll and pretty much everything about this pasta. Nom Nom Nom
great job!