Scary Paranormal Stories & Short Horror Microfiction

Creepypasta

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Rating: 9.3/10 (4729 votes cast)

During my childhood my family was like a drop of water in a vast river, never remaining in one location for long. We settled in Rhode Island when I was eight, and there we remained until I went to college in Colorado Springs. Most of my memories are rooted in Rhode Island, but there are fragments in the attic of my brain which belong to the various homes we had lived in when I was much younger.

Most of these memories are unclear and pointless– chasing after another boy in the back yard of a house in North Carolina, trying to build a raft to float on the creek behind the apartment we rented in Pennsylvania, and so on. But there is one set of memories which remains as clear as glass, as though they were just made yesterday. I often wonder whether these memories are simply lucid dreams produced by the long sickness I experienced that Spring, but in my heart, I know they are real.

We were living in a house just outside the bustling metropolis of New Vineyard, Maine, population 643. It was a large structure, especially for a family of three. There were a number of rooms that I didn’t see in the five months we resided there. In some ways it was a waste of space, but it was the only house on the market at the time, at least within an hour’s commute to my father’s place of work.

The day after my fifth birthday (attended by my parents alone), I came down with a fever. The doctor said I had mononucleosis, which meant no rough play and more fever for at least another three weeks. It was horrible timing to be bed-ridden– we were in the process of packing our things to move to Pennsylvania, and most of my things were already packed away in boxes, leaving my room barren. My mother brought me ginger ale and books several times a day, and these served the function of being my primary from of entertainment for the next few weeks. Boredom always loomed just around the corner, waiting to rear its ugly head and compound my misery.

I don’t exactly recall how I met Mr. Widemouth. I think it was about a week after I was diagnosed with mono. My first memory of the small creature was asking him if he had a name. He told me to call him Mr. Widemouth, because his mouth was large. In fact, everything about him was large in comparison to his body– his head, his eyes, his crooked ears– but his mouth was by far the largest.

“You look kind of like a Furby,” I said as he flipped through one of my books.

Mr. Widemouth stopped and gave me a puzzled look. “Furby? What’s a Furby?” he asked.

I shrugged. “You know… the toy. The little robot with the big ears. You can pet and feed them, almost like a real pet.”

“Oh.” Mr. Widemouth resumed his activity. “You don’t need one of those. They aren’t the same as having a real friend.”

I remember Mr. Widemouth disappearing every time my mother stopped by to check in on me. “I lay under your bed,” he later explained. “I don’t want your parents to see me because I’m afraid they won’t let us play anymore.”

We didn’t do much during those first few days. Mr. Widemouth just looked at my books, fascinated by the stories and pictures they contained. The third or fourth morning after I met him, he greeted me with a large smile on his face. “I have a new game we can play,” he said. “We have to wait until after your mother comes to check on you, because she can’t see us play it. It’s a secret game.”

After my mother delivered more books and soda at the usual time, Mr. Widemouth slipped out from under the bed and tugged my hand. “We have to go the the room at the end of this hallway,” he said. I objected at first, as my parents had forbidden me to leave my bed without their permission, but Mr. Widemouth persisted until I gave in.

The room in question had no furniture or wallpaper. Its only distinguishing feature was a window opposite the doorway. Mr. Widemouth darted across the room and gave the window a firm push, flinging it open. He then beckoned me to look out at the ground below.

We were on the second story of the house, but it was on a hill, and from this angle the drop was farther than two stories due to the incline. “I like to play pretend up here,” Mr. Widemouth explained. “I pretend that there is a big, soft trampoline below this window, and I jump. If you pretend hard enough you bounce back up like a feather. I want you to try.”

I was a five-year-old with a fever, so only a hint of skepticism darted through my thoughts as I looked down and considered the possibility. “It’s a long drop,” I said.

“But that’s all a part of the fun. It wouldn’t be fun if it was only a short drop. If it were that way you may as well just bounce on a real trampoline.”

I toyed with the idea, picturing myself falling through thin air only to bounce back to the window on something unseen by human eyes. But the realist in me prevailed. “Maybe some other time,” I said. “I don’t know if I have enough imagination. I could get hurt.”

Mr. Widemouth’s face contorted into a snarl, but only for a moment. Anger gave way to disappointment. “If you say so,” he said. He spent the rest of the day under my bed, quiet as a mouse.

The following morning Mr. Widemouth arrived holding a small box. “I want to teach you how to juggle,” he said. “Here are some things you can use to practice, before I start giving you lessons.”

I looked in the box. It was full of knives. “My parents will kill me!” I shouted, horrified that Mr. Widemouth had brought knives into my room– objects that my parents would never allow me to touch. “I’ll be spanked and grounded for a year!”

Mr. Widemouth frowned. “It’s fun to juggle with these. I want you to try it.”

I pushed the box away. “I can’t. I’ll get in trouble. Knives aren’t safe to just throw in the air.”

Mr. Widemouth’s frown deepend into a scowl. He took the box of knives and slid under my bed, remaining there the rest of the day. I began to wonder how often he was under me.

I started having trouble sleeping after that. Mr. Widemouth often woke me up at night, saying he put a real trampoline under the window, a big one, one that I couldn’t see in the dark. I always declined and tried to go back to sleep, but Mr. Widemouth persisted. Sometimes he stayed by my side until early in the morning, encouraging me to jump.

He wasn’t so fun to play with anymore.

My mother came to me one morning and told me I had her permission to walk around outside. She thought the fresh air would be good for me, especially after being confined to my room for so long. Exstatic, I put on my sneakers and trotted out to the back porch, yearning for the feeling of sun on my face.

Mr. Widemouth was waiting for me. “I have something I want you to see,” he said. I must have given him a weird look, because he then said, “It’s safe, I promise.”

I followed him to the beginning of a deer trail which ran through the woods behind the house. “This is an important path,” he explained. “I’ve had a lot of friends about your age. When they were ready, I took them down this path, to a special place. You aren’t ready yet, but one day, I hope to take you there.”

I returned to the house, wondering what kind of place lay beyond that trail.

Two weeks after I met Mr. Widemouth, the last load of our things had been packed into a moving truck. I would be in the cab of that truck, sitting next to my father for the long drive to Pennsylvania. I considered telling Mr. Widemouth that I would be leaving, but even at five years old, I was beginning to suspect that perhaps the creature’s intentions were not to my benefit, despite what he said otherwise. For this reason, I decided to keep my departure a secret.

My father and I were in the truck at 4 a.m. He was hoping to make it to Pennyslvania by lunch time tomorrow with the help of an endless supply of coffee and a six-pack of energy drinks. He seemed more like a man who was about to run a marathon rather than one who was about to spend two days sitting still.

“Early enough for you?” he asked.

I nodded and placed my head against the window, hoping for some sleep before the sun came up. I felt my father’s hand on my shoulder. “This is the last move, son, I promise. I know it’s hard for you, as sick as you’ve been. Once daddy gets promoted we can settle down and you can make friends.”

I opened my eyes as we backed out of the driveway. I saw Mr. Widemouth’s silouhette in my bedroom window. He stood motionless until the truck was about to turn onto the main road. He gave a pitiful little wave good-bye, steak knife in hand. I didn’t wave back.

Years later, I returned to New Vineyard. The piece of land our house stood upon was empty except for the foundation, as the house burned down a few years after my family left. Out of curiosity, I followed the deer trail that Mr. Widemouth had shown me. Part of me expected him to jump out from behind a tree and scare the living bejeesus out of me, but I felt that Mr. Widemouth was gone, somehow tied to the house that no longer existed.

The trail ended at the New Vineyard Memorial Cemetery.

I noticed that many of the tombstones belonged to children.

//
Credited to perfectcircle35.

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Rate This Pasta
Rating: 9.3/10 (4729 votes cast)
Mr. Widemouth, 9.3 out of 10 based on 4729 ratings
  • Neobara

    It\\\’s 5 in the morning and i\\\’m sitting in a quiet halfway home for elderly schizophrenic people (where i work the night shift). This story is awesomely creepy because the little impish creature isn\\\’t an outright murderer so it\\\’s all the more eerie. 5 stars!

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    Rating: +117 (from 145 votes)
    • Kakarrot13

      Five stars out of ten?! :3

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      Rating: +7 (from 69 votes)
      • Anonymous

        no 5 out of 5

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        Rating: +32 (from 48 votes)
        • Anonymous

          When the furby thing said “I hope to take you there someday” or something like that, and the place is a graveyard, did it mean it wanted to kill him someday? Like not just take him there on a lovely stroll? Or is that just my interpretation of that line?

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          Rating: +31 (from 49 votes)
        • Anonymous

          no he was trying to get the boy killed by jumping out the window or juggling knives and would take the corpse there.

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          Rating: +24 (from 36 votes)
        • Anonymous

          30+

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          Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
        • Anonymous

          8 out of 10

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          Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)
        • http://itsfaythethedoctor.weebly.com TheLonelyGirlInTheCorner

          dude it deserves 10 out of 10 its a really good story

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    • Blue

      you should hear Cry read this… its completely terrifying

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      Rating: +43 (from 47 votes)
      • DrDJFoshizzleDawg

        Cry is awesome and makes every story he reads creepy

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        Rating: +25 (from 29 votes)
        • Anonymous

          Who’s Cry?

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          Rating: +1 (from 53 votes)
        • http://www.amazing Lauryn

          cry is so cool when he did this video it was so lol and if anyone gets a chance to go look at it and he also does others and i need some duck tape

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          Rating: +7 (from 19 votes)
        • Anonymous

          cry is caioticmokai on YouTube. Most people call him cry,he plays games with pewdiepie

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          Rating: -7 (from 35 votes)
        • http://creppypasta Someone

          He’s pewdewpies best freind

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          Rating: -4 (from 32 votes)
        • Hai

          Alot of people aren’t describing cry well. Cry is a youtube gamer and from time to time he reads stuff, mostly creepy pastas. He is best friends with pewdiepie which is also a youtube gamer. His youtube name is chaoticmonki so you can go subscribe to him. He has a really nice voice so that’s why many people like to hear the stories he reads. :)

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          Rating: +29 (from 33 votes)
      • Angel

        This is soooo good!!

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        Rating: +2 (from 4 votes)
        • Bobfish

          I imagined him as a miniature demonic fregley

          You know from diary of a wimpy kid

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          Rating: +5 (from 17 votes)
      • Anonymous

        I frikkin Luv cry❤

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        Rating: 0 (from 8 votes)
      • Anonymous

        And his sexy and scary voice makes it all even more creepier

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        Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)
    • Mr. widemouth

      He’s the only one who didn’t want to be my friend…

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      Rating: +30 (from 42 votes)
      • Forever Alone Five Year Old

        Why didn’t you come visit me when I lived in that house :'(

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        Rating: +12 (from 18 votes)
      • Anonymous

        …. *pokerface* well… you tried to kill him… what did you expect?

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        Rating: +7 (from 11 votes)
      • Anonymous

        Aw Widemouth ill be your friend ;)
        ~ Jess, Jeff’s Daughter

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        Rating: -7 (from 19 votes)
    • k good

      Lol currently sitting on a Geri psych unit at 5am I also work nights. Coincidence? I think not.

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      Rating: +2 (from 8 votes)
    • Bobfish

      I Wonder what Happens to miniature demonic dolls
      In a microwave Set on Full Power…

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      Rating: +4 (from 12 votes)
    • http://Gmail Brandon watts

      Dilly!!!!!!! Oh my Dilly

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      Rating: +1 (from 3 votes)
    • SilverKitsune

      OMG i love creepypasta. My user name is the name of the creepypasta I made. Tell me if u want me to create a story!

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      Rating: -9 (from 9 votes)
      • Nicola Marie Jackson

        Yep! Xx

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        Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)
  • Seras

    Hm, i actually quite liked this one. It’s like those imaginary friends some have as a child. Only it wasn’t imagination this time. I like the fact that it’s not just blood and gore ike many of those crappy pastas up here. It’s subtle and still scary as hellXD

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    Rating: +130 (from 136 votes)
    • Anonymous

      It is almost like Toby from Paranormal Activity

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      Rating: +30 (from 50 votes)
      • Anonymous

        Gotta love Toby.

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        Rating: +38 (from 58 votes)
        • Anonymous

          Gotta love toby

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          Rating: -40 (from 58 votes)
        • Anonymous

          Gotta love Toby.

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          Rating: -26 (from 38 votes)
        • Anonymous

          love toby, you must :-)

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          Rating: -10 (from 38 votes)
        • Anonymous

          Gotta love toby

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          Rating: -15 (from 19 votes)
      • anon

        Toby pulled my hair!!

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        Rating: -5 (from 15 votes)
        • John

          Toby bit my finger!

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          Rating: -3 (from 9 votes)
      • Anonymous

        C-C-C-COMBO BREAKER!!!

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        Rating: +10 (from 20 votes)
    • OhHaiDere

      love toby, aye

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      Rating: -12 (from 18 votes)
      • Pooop

        Wasnt it robby

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        Rating: +7 (from 27 votes)
        • Fireblaze

          No It’s bobby.

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          Rating: +10 (from 22 votes)
        • Anonymous

          Lol gotta love bobby

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          Rating: +25 (from 33 votes)
        • Beastoking

          Uh, if you mean the Paranormal Activivity ghost, it is Toby

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          Rating: +1 (from 15 votes)
        • AliLa

          Gotta love em all!

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          Rating: +27 (from 29 votes)
        • Anonymous

          TOBEMON!

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          Rating: +45 (from 51 votes)
  • Gibby

    I liked it. It felt like one of those “doll comes to life” stories, but creepier. The ending was my favorite part. I hope to read more of your work on here.

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    Rating: +66 (from 70 votes)
    • http://instagram.com/fatcakes2123 TheForgotten1

      I totally agree :D

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      Rating: -2 (from 2 votes)
  • G-O

    An interesting tale of a paranormal psychopathic furby-thing. I shudder to think what Mr Widemouth hand in plan for the protagonist, and whatever he did to all the others…

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    Rating: +46 (from 52 votes)
  • http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=100000854383320 Mike Mihalopoulos

    Very well-written. The surprise ending was a tad bit cliche, but I still enjoyed reading it.

    8.5/10

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    Rating: +4 (from 60 votes)
  • KatieBug

    Ooh. I like it!! Few spelling and grammar mistakes. Really tasty pasta. (: Great job. Kinda vague-ish and weird. But, I like it.

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    Rating: +25 (from 37 votes)
  • KatieBug

    Ooh. I like it!! Few spelling and grammar mistakes. Really tasty pasta. (: Great job. Kinda vague-ish and weird. But, I like it.

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    Rating: -6 (from 40 votes)
  • Anonymous

    First!
    I used to have dreams about little creatures like that when I was younger…guess that would explain my fascination with furby destruction as a teen. Setting them on fire, feeding them blackcats, taking potshots with my daisy. All in preparation >:3

    In any case, decent pasta. Needs salt, but would prolly nom again.

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    Rating: -21 (from 67 votes)
    • http://www.creepypasta.com Mr. Widemouth

      You dreamed of ME?

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      Rating: +1 (from 11 votes)
      • Anonymous

        ROFL

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        Rating: +2 (from 4 votes)
    • http://www.creepypasta.com Mr. Widemouth

      So you dreamed about creatures like me when you was little?

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      Rating: -3 (from 11 votes)
  • Xothic

    Pretty creepy, but was it some little rat thing? I dont know if the author was clear enough.

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    Rating: -26 (from 34 votes)
    • DJ DALLY DEE

      Well that’s the whole point of the story, it’s up to you to decide. When a storyteller blatantly tells you exactly what the monster looks like, it’s either hit or miss. Either he creates something that you think is extremely terrifying, or he makes something completely rediculous to you. The real monsters are the ones that are in your mind, and by letting you shape up the creatures in your mind’s eye, the storyteller creates a monster that is terrifying for everyone, because we all visualize him in a way that is most terrifying for each of us.

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      Rating: +71 (from 73 votes)
      • Craver

        I drew my interpretation of Mr. Widemouth. He has a wide mouth.

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        Rating: +80 (from 80 votes)
        • http://freewebarcade.com Panda

          If I saw that thing I’d slap it and shove a bazooka down its throat, and then id throw it out the window and put spikes under my bed…or something sharp.

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          Rating: -4 (from 30 votes)
        • Anonymous

          He’d probably just kill you with it

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          Rating: +31 (from 31 votes)
        • Kimiharu

          you don’t say? *perfect are-you-fucking-kidding-me face*

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          Rating: -3 (from 7 votes)
      • kate

        i kind of pictured him like an evil hobbes from calvin and hobbes for some reason haha.

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        Rating: +8 (from 12 votes)
      • shannon

        i imagine mr widemouth wearing a black tuxedo and a red shirt. i suppose the creature from the anime soul eater.

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        Rating: +29 (from 29 votes)
        • marie

          That was exactly what I was thinking!!!

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          Rating: +2 (from 6 votes)
      • Zach

        I imagined it being a miz between a firby and jeff the killer

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        Rating: +3 (from 7 votes)
        • Anonymous

          Same here Mane

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          Rating: 0 (from 4 votes)
        • SlenderJeff

          Same here Mane

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          Rating: -2 (from 4 votes)
        • anonymous

          Small black arms and legs, long black triangular ears, little black button eyes, and a wide mouth full of long white jagged teeth.

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          Rating: +1 (from 3 votes)
        • TheBomb.com

          Jeff the Killer would probably burn Mr. Widemouth and keep him as a pet.

          “You’re mine now”

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          Rating: +6 (from 6 votes)
      • Anon

        I imagined him as cat, kind of a big-eyed, sandy-colored, tiny bodied, evil version of the Cheshire Cat.

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        Rating: +6 (from 6 votes)
        • Anonymous

          I imagined he looked like the rake for some reason.

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          Rating: +5 (from 5 votes)
    • http://thed0ct0risn.wordpress.com Dr. Malpractice

      Pretty realistic for a child not to recognize what something like Mr. Widemouth actually is. After so many years, too, you would probably forget a lot. He could look like anything between a Furby and an imp with mange. My guess tends more toward the latter. I imagine that Mr. Widemouth would have looked extremely unnerving to an adult.

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      Rating: +29 (from 31 votes)
  • lulzfish

    This was okay, but it seems too much like a comedy, and it ended with the protagonist surviving easily.

    “Here, jump out this window”
    “nah”
    “Here, juggle these knives”
    “nope”
    “wtf you’re leaving?”
    “lolololol”

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    Rating: +195 (from 215 votes)
    • Random troll guy

      I totally agree with you when i read this i realise how big of a troll mr.widemouth is
      mr widemouth:Jump out the window and imagine there is a trampoline under the window
      meh:Yea i’m five but i’m not a dumbass!!!
      mr widemouth:juggle with these knives
      meh:AND BLEED TO DEATH???NO thank you
      mr widemouth:The soap…PICK IT UP

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      Rating: +108 (from 112 votes)
      • Mr Widemouth

        Lol

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        Rating: +26 (from 30 votes)
        • Cesar

          Nice mane I almost thought the story was real LOL.

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          Rating: +1 (from 9 votes)
      • me

        WTF DONT PICK UP THE SOAP!!!! And he did it and lost his verginity to a deformed furby :P

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        Rating: +3 (from 23 votes)
      • Ben

        o god mr. widemouth XD

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        Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
      • Anyal

        Heh. Awesome.

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    • Darien

      haha thats pretty true all n all tho the story was creepy yet fascnating

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      Rating: +1 (from 3 votes)
  • Eric

    That was pretty scary. Hello my first comment here and my the first comment on this pasta! I would give this an 8/10. I liked how it was ambiguous if it was real or not.

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    Rating: -6 (from 44 votes)
  • http://www.dylanangladamusic.com/ Dylan A.

    Bravo! A decent creepypasta, complete with decent spelling, grammar, AND punctuation. This one creeped me the f*ck out.

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    Rating: +30 (from 32 votes)
  • Gar

    Good story, but you should take out the reference to energy drinks. I’m fairly sure those didn’t exist 20 years ago (when you were 5, according to the story).

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    Rating: -9 (from 47 votes)
  • Mreeeeee

    I really liked this one. It was actually pretty creepy. 5/5 GJ!

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    Rating: +14 (from 14 votes)
  • Tom

    Energy drinks have been around since the 1900s, Gar, perhaps even earlier.

    If you want to argue that only the modern incarnation of energy drinks (ie soda-style) count, Jolt Cola launched in 1985. So there’s one famous brand of energy drink that’s 25 years old. Durr hurr.

    I love when people nitpick stories with stuff that isn’t even remotely true/valid. It seems to happen an awful lot on this website.

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    Rating: +64 (from 66 votes)
    • Angel

      Thank you kind sir

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      Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)
  • No name

    It sounds like a Gremlin, though I imagine a Furby crossed with Dig ‘Em Frog.

    Anyway, great story and great ending. It’s amazing how a lot of our childhood memories seem creepier now than they were at the time.

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    Rating: +18 (from 18 votes)
    • Bugg

      I imagined a Dobby like creature… no clue why lol

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      Rating: +18 (from 18 votes)
      • Kenzie

        Same. Dobby-like, only smaller and reddish-brown.

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        Rating: +6 (from 6 votes)
        • Anonymous

          I have always feared furbys and clowns, so my interpretation of Mr Widemouth was a cross between a brown spotted Furby and a clown with scary makeup and a Jeff the Killer smile, Jesus, I hate my imagination.

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          Rating: +14 (from 14 votes)
        • anticrunch

          mine was sort of the nice furry gremlin crossed with the evil leprechaun from those movies

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          Rating: +5 (from 5 votes)
      • Anonymous

        Wow so did i! :D or like that creepy thing off the Hobbit that sorta looks like Dobby XD

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        Rating: +3 (from 3 votes)
        • Herobrine

          The goblin that is down in Gollum’s cave? the one that fell with Bilbo?

          BTW, the anonymous with the Furby/Clown/Jeff the Killer is me, at least,it was, before I had a name.

          -Herobrine

          Always watching…

          VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
          Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
    • BC

      Wait, if our creepy thoughts are worse as grown-ups, then i dread the day i turn into an adult.

      VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
      Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
    • RiathLaz

      I imagined a murderous mogwai. Lol

      VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
      Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
  • Jude

    That was a nice story. It reminds me of old folk tales where mischevous goblins or leprechauns or whatever try to trick gullible people into doing stupid or dangerous things. Not exactly scary but entertaining still.

    VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
    Rating: +10 (from 14 votes)
    • Alexendra Olafson

      Hey Jude! (Beatles refference)

      VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
      Rating: +12 (from 18 votes)
  • JesusLOL

    Though it’s a refreshing change from most of the shit on this site, there are some flaws that distract from the story. Though unique in a way, Furby wasn’t unique enough to stand out; the only reason he isn’t going to be immediately forgotten like a thousand other creepy diminutive distorted paranormal bad guys is the writer’s ability, not any unique trait of his own.

    Without getting all nitpicky about details, the author’s prose was unrefined in some places, lazy in others. (The main character reflecting on the “clear as glass” memories of Widemouth is a good example. That works for a single memory or two, but loses credibility when talking about series of recurring and mostly mundane visits over two weeks.)

    Still, great pasta.

    VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
    Rating: -7 (from 23 votes)
    • Mr.Widemouth

      Thats Mr.Widemouth to you wise guy

      VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
      Rating: +16 (from 22 votes)
      • Kimiharu

        shut it Furby-boy.

        VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
        Rating: +5 (from 5 votes)
  • Heather

    lulzfish your comment made me laugh. 8]
    this was good pasta, will eat again in the future.

    VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
    Rating: +4 (from 4 votes)
    • Anonymous

      Where’s the picture

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      Rating: -4 (from 6 votes)
  • Svenly

    “Ecstatic” not “exstatic”. Not bad. The first sentence didn’t really make any sense to me, but I’m probably reading it wrong.

    8/10

    VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
    Rating: +2 (from 8 votes)
  • Dragonair

    Really, really, really, really awesome. Sometimes I wish the site would update more often, then we get truly CREEPY stories like this and I’m satisfied to wait. <3

    8.5/10

    VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
    Rating: +7 (from 7 votes)
  • Flash37

    “bustling metropolis of New Vineyard, Maine, population 643.”
    Wait… It’s near Maine.
    6+4=10.
    10+3=13
    Well gee, this place is set up for disaster. Fires and floods and all that.

    I liked this. When I saw the title I was like “OHHHH NOOOO OH THIS IS GONNA BE GOOD” And it was x3
    So I was like making up theories during the story, that Mr. Widemouth was like a good part of the boy’s imagination trying to show him that you could have fun when you’re sick or he was dreaming or something BUT THEN HE TURNED OUT TO BE A MURDEROUS DEMON WITH A STEAK KNIFE WHICH WAS AWESOME.

    The comparison to a Furby totally threw me off though. I was imagining him more like Stewie Griffin with the head, and his mouth stretching it. I prefer him that way but whatever ;;
    9/10

    VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
    Rating: +9 (from 15 votes)
    • Kenzie

      Maine. It always rains, or snows, or catches on fire. No wonder it’s a popular place for horror stories.

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      Rating: +3 (from 3 votes)
    • Czikkan

      Don’t bring up characters from things completely devoid of creativity on a site like this. Cool? Cool. Sweet talking to you.

      VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
      Rating: -13 (from 15 votes)
      • cill bosby

        Yeah, at first I imagined him as this creepy weird thing, then he said how he reminded him of a furby and then i imagined him as a furby and no matter how hard i tried not to, he still looked like a furby in my mind.

        VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
        Rating: +9 (from 9 votes)
  • DannyV

    I enjoyed this one alot, the only part I disliked was the creatures name (of coarse I understand this was probly to make the child trust it more) maybe it would be good if it was a little darker or something, I dunno. But I did enjoy this one and I would love to see you make one with a bit more detail or plot, I think it\’d be great

    keep in mind, I\’m new ro creepy pasta
    DannyV.

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    Rating: +3 (from 7 votes)
  • Anonymous

    Awww Mr.Widemouth just wanted to have some fun :(

    VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
    Rating: +26 (from 30 votes)
    • Mr. Widemouth

      Will you come play with me? It’s really lonely in this butcher’s shop!

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      Rating: +18 (from 24 votes)
      • Me

        I’ll play with you Mr.Widemouth! :D

        VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
        Rating: +7 (from 9 votes)
      • stef

        lol

        VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
        Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
    • me

      Shut the fuck up Mr.Duchemouth ha ha ha. Bicht pleise i aint afraid of a deformed retarded furby

      VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
      Rating: -11 (from 21 votes)
      • AutoCorrect

        Bitch not Vichy and please not pleise a little grammar please.

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        Rating: 0 (from 6 votes)
      • Kimiharu

        Oh really? Perhaps you should be afraid of your lack in grammar/spelling skills.

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        Rating: +4 (from 4 votes)
  • Truan

    Wasn’t too bad, very well written. I was a bit disappointed by the ending though. Here’s this creature that’s obviously trying to kill the protagonist and the end of the path is a reveal that he’s killed other kids? Not much of an impact. I thought it was going to be a downhill drop or more of a mass/hidden grave. Seemed a bit unnecessary to show him the path in the first place, because it only seems to set up a cliche ending.
    But still, this is better than most other crap I’ve read on this site in the past few weeks

    VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
    Rating: -17 (from 33 votes)
    • A

      Not much of an impact? Really?
      You find out he’s killed a bunch of kids and the boy could of been killed, yeah that’s freaky! Duh.

      VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
      Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)

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