Creepypasta

Scary Paranormal Stories & Short Horror Microfiction

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Join us for the October 2014 discussion post - this month, we're talking all about Halloween!

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I grew up listening to all sorts of scary stories from my parents, and my grandparents, but I never really believed in anything supernatural firmly. This was, though, till one particular night when I was fifteen.

My grandmother lived with us and it had been around 3 months since she passed away. I would often stay up listening to her stories, and had taken to studying in the same room after her passing. I always had a sense of comfort in that room, even though almost everyone I knew found it to be quite creepy. Their view was understandable for me as well; the room had a dusty old closet attached to it, which was still had a lot of antiques and old chests stowed away in it.… Read the rest

I woke up in a room that was all too familiar.
“I’m having the dream again,” I thought to myself, the same dream I’d been having for weeks before that. Each time I had it it, I was filled with the same sense of terror.

I was in a dome shape room about ten feet across. Everywhere I looked I saw mirrors.
Mirrors.
Just saying the word gave me the chills. Anyway, it’s not the mirrors itself that scared me, but what was looking back at me from them did. What I saw terrified me more than anything possible. Despite my resistance, I couldn’t help but have a flashback.… Read the rest

The end of the hall finally arrives, and on Todd’s left a door marked 129. The keys jangle as he spins them idly on his finger like a gunslinger just after the kill; then he notices the grimy film coating his fingers from touching the key ring. One more thing nobody bothers cleaning.

Todd slides the key into the door handle. The lock snaps back like cracking vertebrae, and behind it is a sound like a gasp or sob inside the room.

Todd hesitates, listening. The entire building is silent as if it were abandoned. He pushes the door open and flicks on the light, maybe a little hastier than he’d admit.… Read the rest

Then

Dark thunderheads blanketed the Suffolk sky, and fat droplets of rain began to spatter the golden leaves scattered across the ground. In the distance, silver lightning streaked between the clouds above, illuminating rolling hills and terrified sheep scampering for shelter.

Jack began to count the seconds as his father had taught him, barely reaching eight before an enormous crack of thunder boomed across the sky. One of the cabinets in the study contained four or five model cannons, and he imagined this was how their functioning counterparts must have once sounded.

He looked over his shoulder towards Nighthill Manor, his home, distant and aloof on the cusp of the valley, unsure if he was expected to go inside now that the weather had turned foul.… Read the rest

This would be the second house tonight. He knew Cory would be angry, sure – the man was always trying to stick to his “rule book,” and the first Law of Cory was to avoid same night hits – but they were running low on pretty much everything. Harry wasn’t about to starve because of a stupid rule made over whiskey shots and a little pot; besides, pissing off an already touchy brother was just the cherry on top.

It wasn’t a big risk anyway. He wasn’t across the city, teasing the suburbs. This was Canvastown! If he pissed on a station wagon’s hubcaps, he would probably get little more than a few cheers.… Read the rest

Content Warning: Explicit Gore

Since I was a child, I had always felt the need to move my hands and fiddle with objects. My parents would always pester me about it, how I couldn’t do well with keeping them still and picking up and messing with things.

This affected me in more parts of my life than I would think of. I had difficulty making friends, as I would typically touch and tangle with belongings that weren’t my own. This was because I began to grow a intolerable, unrelenting madness when my hands didn’t move, even a short period of time.… Read the rest

Westley was rich. Not in the manor in which he was stuck up or thought he was better than everyone else, but in the manner where the only friends he could find were those who really only cared for his money and not him. That being said, life was rather difficult for him. He was a senior in high school now, with acceptance into his first choice school on scholarship. To many of the less impressive, less well-off students in school he was well on his way to becoming the most secretly hated student on campus. Still, it made it easier to weed out those friends of his who weren’t in fact friends at all.… Read the rest

First off, submissions will re-open on March 20th and remain open until April 15th. I’ll make another announcement when I’ve completed scheduling and replying to all the sorted submissions, as per usual.

Please note that if you have chosen to hold back your parodypasta submissions until the last possible moment for whatever reason, if you want ANY chance at getting your story included in this year’s April 1st Parodypasta collection, you must submit your parodypasta BEFORE the end of March.

Now, on to the actual meat of this post:

AS OF THE MARCH 2014 SUBMISSION PERIOD, CHECKING “YES” ON CRAPPYPASTA WILL NOT BE A GUARANTEE OF A POSTING THERE.Read the rest

Chatroom log transcribed by *name expunged* on *date expunged*. Screen names presumably substituted by account holders’ real names for easier reference. Whether incident described was real or fabricated cannot be determined, as transcriber has vanished without a trace.

*

[11:29:09 PM] – Jon has joined the chatroom

[11:29:14 PM] – Matt has joined the chatroom

[11:29:16 PM] Jon: holla

[11:29:20 PM] Matt: holla!

[11:29:22 PM] Matt: haha

[11:29:31 PM] Matt: what the crap was sabatini talking about Tuesday?

[11:30:02 PM] Jon: I wasn’t in class Tuesday.

[11:30:03 PM] Matt: about the futurists

[11:30:09 PM] Jon: I was sick.

[11:30:13 PM] Matt: oh.… Read the rest

Unless you wish to experience endless nights without sleep, the painful insomnia sent from the devil himself, don’t look. If you’re one of those lucky enough to fall asleep after such an experience as mine, then you’ll realize it soon. You’ll soon wake in the middle of the night screaming with the agony from the torturous nightmares you’ll have no choice but to endure. But there is one way to save yourself. You simply cannot look. Please. Please heed my advice, friend…

Don’t look into your bedroom mirror at night while the lights are off.

On one wretched night I had been out late with some friends at a batchelorette party.… Read the rest

I don’t remember much about my childhood, like most people. Those memories are always vague and eventually you realise whatever you ‘remember’ is probably just a reconstructed memory. You don’t have much choice in the matter, and are usually convinced that your memory would never fail you.
The first memory I have was when I was 5. I’m not sure if it’s real or not, but that’s when I think I met Michael. I never had any friends, so I was glad when I met him. He called me Jack, and I liked it. As uncertain I am if I remember our first encounter, there is no doubting the strong bond we immediately formed.… Read the rest

When we are speaking of the supernatural, of the disturbing, of the grotesquely weird and disgusting, we consider only the monsters themselves. We see the twitching limbs and sharp teeth, the death and the despair, and the heart-stopping terror of the moment of death. We rarely look past this, into the real question and mystery. I could spend all day debating back and forth about any number of spooky topics, but I want to take a moment to discuss something else.

Recently I was going through a dusty old corner shop near where I live. It’s a small antique business, and I’ve found a couple jewels there before, and for bargain prices.… Read the rest

My brother and I were always the best of friends. We were only a year apart, with him being older, and we spent nearly all of our time together. We grew up in a house pretty far from the rest of the town so we didn’t spend much time with other kids. The only times that we were separated from each other was during school but we would always play during recess and he would always give me a warm pat on the back during when our classes would pass in the hall. This carried on from grade school all the way to high school.… Read the rest

One frequent discussion in the comments both here and over at Crappypasta is what, exactly, makes a good character. Some people seem to eschew any detail about the character’s traits or life, preferring them to be a blank slate for the reader to imagine as their own proxy within the story. Others like characters to be their own developed beings, not necessarily needing them to be a vehicle for the reader’s self-insert. With such different views causing people to bicker back and forth about which details and writing POVs are acceptable, I thought it might be helpful for any aspiring writers if we had a discussion about fictional characters that we love.… Read the rest

It was early Sunday afternoon, my parents were at church leaving me home all by myself. They were devout Christians, yet I’m not. Sometimes they even try to get me to go, but it bores the crap out of me and I’m just not a believer. So here I am, laying on my bed, laptop resting on my stomach and headphones in my ears. I wasn’t doing anything in particular, just browsing some of the new uploads from IGN, Jompa, basically anything to pass the time. Then I saw a video that stood out to me. LA Beast eating a cactus.… Read the rest

October 31st 1691

‘’Hurry,’’ Deliverance whispered, her voice softer than the light breeze which tousled her lank grey hair. ‘’Bury it, child, bury it deep.’’

Tucking a wayward strand of raven hair behind her ear, Abigail continued scooping up handfuls of soil and tossing them into the hole. Tears streaked her dirty cheeks, and her thighs were still damp with warm blood and tar-like ichor from the birthing. She glanced at her mother, and felt a tinge of fear at the worried expression upon the older woman’s face, a usually unreadable mask, completely devoid of emotion.

The thing in the hole squalled and shrieked with its newborn lungs, sending another chill of fear down Abigail’s spine.… Read the rest

For several nights I have seen a man vanish into the woods behind my home; a man that I do not recognize. It started three nights ago. I thought nothing of it at first; perhaps he was a homeless man living in some clearing in the woods, or possibly a drug addict looking for a secluded place to practice his sickness. Either way, I did not read into it very much. But, eventually, my curiosity got the best of me and I began to wonder what it was that he did beneath those dark branches.

He appeared every night, at exactly nine o’ clock, in my backyard, walking toward the edge of the woods.… Read the rest

Nature is said to be the holder of true beauty, there are people who swear by this and believe it so foolhardily. I believed this too for a time, I never knew of what was truly waiting for all of us in the places we expect to be our escape. I came to learn that nature, just like everything else, has two sides. I peered into the darkest shade that it could hold and my eyes have been stained ever since. This must make no sense to you at all, but I need to explain to you my story, I need to tell you about what I had found.… Read the rest

Ever since the incident I’ve been so paranoid. No one would even really explain what exactly happened that night. I couldn’t make any sense of it, even though I was there. Every single detail is still etched into my brain, but I still can’t tell anyone what happened really.

The car pulled up to the big Arizona house, in the middle of nowhere. I mean, seriously? How do people live like this? Hawaii was a good call, mom. This is depressing. I glanced between my parents as they discussed whatever about who-cares. I can’t believe they were going to leave me here like this while they took a trip to the Bahamas!… Read the rest

My name is not Xin, but that is what you can call me. Everything I am about to tell you is completely true.

I believe I was born in the early 90’s. “Believe” is the right word in this scenario because my otherwise superb memory (in fact, it was once flawless) only begins in 1997. Judging by the status of my body’s growth and the growth of the children around me in those fledgling memories, I am quite confident that we were all between the ages of 5 and 7.

How they managed to erase our earlier memories I do not know, although I suspect they used the same method they used to control every other aspect of our lives: drugs.… Read the rest

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