Popular Tags:


The Missed Call

May 23, 2008 at 12:07 AM

A strange ringtone plays on your cell phone, you reach for it but whoever it was must have hung up, a wrong number maybe. You look at the phone anyway. You’ve missed a call. You listen to it. When you put the phone to your ear. Suddenly you hear a scream of pain, you toss the cell across the room, but you can still hear it.

When you finally pick the phone up you see who the call was from, you realize who’s voice it was.

Yours.

My Girlfriend’s Eyes

May 22, 2008 at 12:24 AM

It was her eyes that first attracted me to her. I didn’t believe in love, but the
first time I gazed into her beautiful green eyes I knew she was the one.

I loved seeing myself reflected in those eyes, looking deep into her soul and
knowing I was a part of it. It’s kinda stupid, but I even wrote poetry about them. I
don’t remember much, but I told her “There’s so much life within your eyes, and so
much love”.

Oh God, I loved the way the light danced within them. I just couldn’t imagine not
being able to stare dreamily into them.

Now if I could just find a box that was half as beautiful as her eyes, I could stop
carrying them round in my pocket.

Hotel California

May 21, 2008 at 12:10 AM

They say that somewhere in western America, some say in Utah, others say on the California coast, there’s a small motel on the side of the road.

When you go inside, it’s decorated in very common hotel attire, with the paneling and old fashioned key-lock doors.

The thing is, there’s a room in there for everybody. Everybody has a reservation for exactly when they show up, and the number of rooms available is always one more than the number of people there. One person to a room, that is the rule.

It’s said that the song “Hotel California” is based off this motel, though you *can* leave this particular motel.

I wouldn’t advise looking at a mirror for at least a month after doing so, though.

The Houseboat

May 20, 2008 at 12:08 AM

In a private terminal at the Port of Boston there is a houseboat. This houseboat has been anchored there, permanently, for at least 50 years. The eccentric owner has maintained all fees and taxes and is in good standing with the Port Authority.

Still, even if the owner wasn’t financially responsible, no one would ask them to depart. Despite the owner’s friendly, hospitable, if odd nature, there is a persistent air of unease around the boat and the area of the Port surrounding.

Very few people have taken the owner up on offers of hospitality, but those who do recount a wholly unbelievable tale: When you step into the houseboat, it’s as if you’re sent backwards 50 years in time. Looking out windows depicts a cityscape of antiquity and the television receives live broadcasts of programs of the era (including news programs). If you look out the open door, you see the city as it stands today. When the door closes, you can see the 50 year old skyline through the port opening.

Some visitors who spend time with the owner notice something particularly disturbing: an almost uncanny resemblance to their host, despite obvious age differences. Though this is odd, the owner is friendly and trustworthy (ignoring the air of unease most feel), so it isn’t surprising if casual friendships build between a guest and the proprietor.

All this would, of course, be very strange and worthy of note, but dismissed as some form of elaborate hoax or illusion, if it weren’t for one additional detail. Whenever someone elects to spend the night in this houseboat after an evening of conversation and a few drinks, they are never heard from again.

When the guest awakens in the morning, the owner is nowhere to be found and suddenly, the city skyline never changes back to its contemporary appearance when exiting the boat. Under the bed there is a briefcase full of $100 bills with a letter stapled to a list.

The letter simply reads, “You have 50 years to follow these instructions if you wish to free yourself from this hell. The clock is ticking. Get to work.”

The Mail Box

May 19, 2008 at 5:06 AM

There’s a mail box somewhere in the city which can solve your direst problems.

Which city? That depends on who you ask. There may even be more than one, who knows? Anyway, this mail box isn’t emptied anymore – the mail service has completely forgotten about it. But it clings on. It is located in some relatively unlikely place so you won’t spot it immediately. Mail you put inside it won’t go anywhere.

But the box is special. Write a letter about your most pressing problems to the persons in charge of dealing with it: write to your significant other, your boss, the IRS, and get it all off your chest. Ride yourself into deep shit with that letter. You’ll see that the problem will dissolve soon, in some way you hadn’t thought likely.

The snag of course is that you can’t really be sure whether you have found the right mail box until you try it. And if you haven’t things are going to get much worse once your letter gets delivered…

Creepypasta

Submission Status

Submissions closed on February 21st, 2017. Please allow me time to work through the queue before I reopen submissions. PLEASE READ THE FAQ AND ANY RECENT ANNOUNCEMENTS BEFORE ATTEMPTING TO SUBMIT YOUR PASTA OR SENDING CONTACT REQUESTS.

Top Rated Pastas

  1. The Seer of Possibilities
    Rating: 9.3. From 6767 votes.
  2. Love
    Rating: 9.3. From 5049 votes.
  3. The Fairies
    Rating: 9.3. From 2041 votes.
  4. Artificial
    Rating: 9.3. From 1754 votes.
  5. Ubloo, Part Four and a Half
    Rating: 9.3. From 1046 votes.
  6. Turn It Off
    Rating: 9.3. From 768 votes.
  7. Revelations (Sequel to The Fort and Survival)
    Rating: 9.3. From 68 votes.
  8. Psychosis
    Rating: 9.2. From 18637 votes.
  9. Bedtime
    Rating: 9.2. From 10698 votes.
  10. Mr. Widemouth
    Rating: 9.2. From 8373 votes.

Random Pasta Menu