Scary Paranormal Stories & Short Horror Microfiction

Creepypasta

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Rating: 9.2/10 (435 votes cast)

A few years ago I was spending some time with friends exploring old, supposedly haunted, places. We were at the Edisto First Presbyterian Church, where a girl named Julia Legare was buried in her family mausoleum in 1852.

People reported hearing unearthly screams time and time again, but never investigating the cause of it. Fifteen years later, when they opened the door to the mausoleum to inter the next family member who had died, finding her corpse huddled in the corner next to the door, arms outstretched as if still trying to find the exit.

Well, my friends thought it would be a funny idea to shut the giant stone door (which was originally open) behind me and pick me up in the morning. The bastards left me there… I tried and tried, using all of my strength, but I couldn’t budge it, it had taken four people to put it in place. In the dark, I resigned myself to the night ahead of me.

Now, I normally don’t frighten easily, but sitting there in the relatively small place, surrounded by a looming pressure that I couldn’t begin to explain, the darkness itself seemed to try to consume me. From all around it felt like weight was pressing against my skin, making even breathing hard. I sat in the dark for what must have been hours.

Then I heard the scratches. They were faint at first, I was sure it was my imagination, but soon they became more and more frantic as time passed. I huddled up in one of the corners farthest from the door and tried to cover my ears but nothing could stop the growing cacophony. This all may have lasted for a few minutes, but each second was an unbearable eternity.

Then, a loud scream echoed through the darkness, it was a wail of unrestrained pain and fear. The scratching stopped. For the first time I could distinctly make out the sound of a girl sobbing to herself, the pitiful gasping of one without a shred of hope left.

I felt such sorrow at the moment, such pain, that I think I forgot how to be afraid. In my heart all her suffering seemed to resonate. Inexplicably, I found myself apologizing aloud for everything that had happened to her. Hell, a part of me wanted to reach out and feel for a body to hug, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it for fear that I truly would find one.

I don’t know whether or not she heard me or was even aware of my presence, the sobbing continued and I could again hear fingers against the stone slab that was the tomb door.

I fell asleep at some point, which I felt was a merciful gift from the fates. I’m not sure how long I was out, but I was woken by a loud and powerful thud as the door slammed against the ground outside. I could tell from the light gray outside that daybreak was near, so I must have slept for at least a few hours.

I stumbled outside and went to a small unlocked prayer house. I think previously it was a segregated mini-church, but regardless, I leaned against the door and waited nervously until my ‘friends’ arrived. I approached them as they clustered around the fallen door, two of them were kneeling next to it with faces of shock.

There were bloody streaks covering the interior of the door, some with light scratches from fingernails, many without. I think now that she must have shrieked when they broke away from her hands, but I can’t be sure.

At first, they looked to me, then checked my hands, then nervously glanced at one another. I was rightfully pissed with them and told them every detail of what I remembered, wanting them to know what I had been put through.

Finally, after I grudgingly got into the car and we started to head back, someone spoke up. My friend said to me “We were afraid to say anything, but look at your face.”

I later found out that many times people had tried to permanently seal the entrance to the mausoleum, including enough heavy locks and chains that it would require heavy equipment to remove it, only to have it found torn open with the door lying on the ground once more. This was in the 1980s, the last attempt of many through the decades. It seemed like some force was ensuring that it was impossible to ever repeat the mistakes of the past. This is something I am understandably quite grateful for, but to this very day I am chilled to the bone when I think of what happened that night.

When I reached from the back seat and adjusted the rear-view mirror, I saw that there was blood caked on my face. Just like the streaks upon the stone slab, there were dark red lines on either side, as if someone had gently cradled my face with torn fingers as I slept that night, feeling the warmth of another for the first time in over a hundred years.

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Rate This Pasta
Rating: 9.2/10 (435 votes cast)
Julia Legare, 9.2 out of 10 based on 435 ratings
  • Bricks

    It was an alright story, but it just lacked a shock. You could have done it better by saying something like bloodied nails had cut open his face.

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    Rating: -131 (from 135 votes)
    • Ziaheart

      Naw. The sadness of the woman holding someone living for the first time in many years after her death hit me harder than a cheap monster shock ever could.

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      Rating: +179 (from 183 votes)
      • Janitorman

        Yeah this is one of the best creepy pasta’s that make you want to think about what happened.

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        Rating: +9 (from 9 votes)
  • me

    BUT THEN WHO WAS UNEARTHLY SCREAM?
    This pasta sounds moar like emo poetry than something scary.

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    Rating: -140 (from 146 votes)
    • Jenn

      You’re an idiot.

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      Rating: +77 (from 85 votes)
      • Anonymous

        I would thumb up you, Jenn, but I don’t want to ruin the 69 :P

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        Rating: 0 (from 10 votes)
  • Laura

    Aaaw all Julia wants is a hug

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    Rating: +64 (from 66 votes)
  • Mike

    Excellent! I really liked this one.

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    Rating: +36 (from 38 votes)
  • Bryan

    This is amazing. It has all the elements of a good paranormal story, but with a love story ending.

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    Rating: +46 (from 50 votes)
  • Mreeee

    Awwwwww, great story for the grandkids when they ask how you two met!

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    Rating: +42 (from 46 votes)
  • Feaster of Fear

    A tad predictable at times, but delicious nonetheless. Would definitely eat again. The ending is a nice touch, shows that even spirits sometimes retain humanity

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    Rating: +29 (from 29 votes)
  • Anonymous

    The story in itself was mediocrely written. If you had spent more time in maybe adding detail or making it creepier, then it would have been somewhat better.

    I shat no brix today.

    2/5 :(

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    Rating: -57 (from 57 votes)
    • Tokyoboosh

      I think the fact that it was like someone’s account of an experience gave it the right feel, though.

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      Rating: +11 (from 11 votes)
    • Noughtshayde

      I don’t think the point of the story was to make you scared, I think it was supposed to make you think, and to maybe slightly creep you out, perhaps make you feel bad for Julia. Delicious pasta, gave me goosebumps, and not just from the fear factor.

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      Rating: +11 (from 11 votes)
  • argo

    made me warm n fuzzy inside.not bad

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    Rating: +34 (from 34 votes)
  • NJ

    I really liked this one, Its the kinda pasta I like…One with a back story and that brings sympathy for the spirit into the story :) Very yummy pasta, nomnom :P x

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    Rating: +22 (from 22 votes)
  • Nolaire

    Awh, this was actually really sweet~
    Writing was nice, intro not unbearbly long, story was to-the-point and generally this was really good :3

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    Rating: +10 (from 10 votes)
  • http://hack.cl lukazaz

    nice pasta loved it has a nice ending plus its kind of spoky hallowen is coming up and the pasta is getting scarece please someone post moar :$

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    Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
  • ded

    poorly written, but good concept I suppose. Stale pasta is stale.

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    Rating: -33 (from 35 votes)
  • Anon

    Who was sappy feel-good creepypasta of the year?

    Although it wasn’t too scary itself, it really does sound believable enough that it could have been true, which is kind of creepy in itself. Just think of the train track kids who always push stopped cars off the track.

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    Rating: +5 (from 5 votes)
    • Jane the Killer

      The movie Fingerprints! I watched that great movie!!!!!

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      Rating: -1 (from 1 vote)
  • Anonymous

    FIRST
    Then who was fingernails?

    Pretty good pasta. I liked it.
    I liked the idea of the supposed bad guy being kind of a good guy, cradling him as he slept.

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    Rating: +4 (from 6 votes)
  • Sigma

    Spooky yet heartwarming :3

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    Rating: +12 (from 12 votes)
  • Gardenia

    I haven’t even finished reading this story yet, but one note to make — the second sentence in the second paragraph makes absolutely no sense. Read it again.

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    Rating: -12 (from 12 votes)
    • lollipop_gestapo

      Yeah I read it just now, years later, and had to reread that sentence a bunch of times. It’s definitely not written down correctly. Story has a,”rough draft,” feel.

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      Rating: -4 (from 4 votes)
  • Gardenia

    Okay, I’ve read it all now. Good to see that what I pointed out was the only nonsensical part. The pasta itself was pretty weak though. The writing is very… high school. You write as though you WANT me to scared, not as though you’re ALLOWING me to be scared.

    Be more subtle. Your approach goes too much in the direction of “well there was a big scary murder and therefore you must be terrified why are you not scared hey huh look there’s blood and everything”. At the end, I felt no fear — only total indifference. “Meh”. To be honest, I can’t even recall exactly what the story was.

    I didn’t like it.

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    Rating: -16 (from 16 votes)
  • AppleSauce

    Loved it. ^^

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    Rating: +6 (from 6 votes)
  • Rah!

    Awh, this is sweet.
    I like it ;]]]

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    Rating: +4 (from 4 votes)
  • Violent Harvest

    I don’t think your reaction inside the tomb was realistic. If someone was sealed inside a tomb with no way out and there was screaming inside, you would lose your mind. There’s no way in hell you could sleep. Outside of that, I liked this.

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    Rating: +1 (from 9 votes)
  • Aspire

    This story was actually very touching…

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    Rating: +5 (from 5 votes)
  • Hotaru

    *sigh* I was thinking when he fell asleep he died and it was only his spirit that made it outside. Then his friends come back in the morning to find two dead bodies in the mausoleum.

    Then I read the ending and I was like..”really..?”

    I like my ending better.

    Who hears screaming and just says.. oh it’s better not to check into it. And they find a dead body and decide to play a prank rather than tell someone? That’s not very believable.

    Unless he was hanging out with four sociopaths. It sounds like a teenager wrote this, someone who couldn’t exactly think something out before they wrote it.

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    Rating: -15 (from 19 votes)
  • Yep

    “writing is very high school”? what the fuck man?

    What is this? Wall-street journal? Way better than recent stories about any malevolent entity.

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    Rating: +15 (from 17 votes)
  • Anon

    If anyone is interested, the location and person are both quite real. Worth checking out if you’re in the South Carolina Lowcountry. It’s a pretty well known story in the area.

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    Rating: +9 (from 9 votes)

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