Scary Paranormal Stories & Short Horror Microfiction


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My father told me a story once. I’ll never forget it, for a few reasons. I think it’s the first story he ever told me, as a child. Its also the story of how my grandfather died. But honestly, that isn’t the reason.

You hear stories, on TV, or sometimes you over hear something in a public place. People talk about ghosts and aliens, and you think to yourself “that ain’t real. They’re making it up, or they’re mistaken, or they’re crazy.” or something like that. You just can’t believe it.

Until something happens. Something that brings it all together, connects the dots in a way you didn’t think of before. Maybe it happens to you, maybe you hear the same story again and again, happening to different people. It doesn’t take long for the world to become a lot bigger than you thought it was.

As I said, this is a story my father told me, but I never believed it, even though he swore up and down it was true. It wasn’t until I started clicking around the internet I started to believe. I started to hear other stories just like the one my father told me. It didn’t take me long to believe in The Rake.

That’s not what my father called it, of course. He’s never used the internet in his life, he wouldn’t know what the consensus has taken to naming it. When he chose to call it something other than “it” or “that thing” He called it “Skinwalker” after an old Cherokee tale his grandfather told him.

But I’ll tell you the story, the way he told it to me.

“We were out hunting one night.” he’d tell me. “Coyotes. We’d kill ‘em for fifty bucks a skin.” they lived on a dairy farm, in Ohio. “They’d kill calves sometimes. We’d do it every night, because we needed the money. Sometimes, while we were out, we’d come on a Deer, and kill it. Our landlord didn’t mind, and it could a feed our family for a few nights and save us some money.”

“Anyway, we were done making our rounds and heading home, walking, ’cause we didn’t have a car or some four-wheeler back then. We’d cut through the woods. That’s when we came up on it.”

“Blood, everywhere. Splattered on the trees, in the grass, in the creek, everywhere. At first, we figured it was a pack of Coyotes. We’d seen it sometimes, they can’t scavenge and start hunting Deer or cattle. The worst was when they breed with feral dogs. But this wasn’t like that.

See, when a pack of dogs, or wolves, or coyotes attack something, they do it right. They’ll pick off one that’s weak, or sick, or old, or just small. They’ll hunt it, draw it into a corner, some place it can’t get out off, and they’ll run it right to the biggest one, the Alpha. And that deer will never see that Alpha. It might hear it, but it won’t see it. It’ll just notice that it’s throat is gone, and then it’ll drop dead. Its quick, its clean. That wasn’t what happened here.”

“Something had run up on a den of deer. Coyotes won’t attack a den, wolves neither, because they’d get too much of a fight. There were three, I think, three bodies. Just torn apart. You’d see a head here, a leg here, a torso there. Predators don’t do that. They don’t leave behind scraps. What had done this hadn’t done it for food. It had done it for fun.”

“But we didn’t know that. We saw a bunch of carcasses and we think its something we gotta take care of. I remember my dad telling me to go home; he thought it was a pack of feral dogs.

But I wasn’t leaving him, and I damn sure wasn’t walking through two miles of woods alone, with nothing but a twenty two and a pocket knife.” he was only thirteen at the time, so a .22 rifle was about the only gun he could reliably use. “dad had the shotgun, and I wasn’t going anywhere without it.”

“It took me a while, to convince him, but finally we began tracking whatever did that. It wasn’t hard, either, we just followed the blood. Either that thing bleed a deer before it got away, or it dragged one for a mile. I don’t know. I know that I’d never seen my dad scared before that night.”

“We started hearing noises. I’ve been in a lot of woods, in my life, I’ve been all over the world, and ain’t never heard noises like I heard that night. I heard things screaming.”

“Heard deer, and fox, and rabbits and raccoons and birds, just scared. Keep in mind, this is maybe twelve, or one o’ clock. ‘cept the fox, and some birds, nothing was supposed to even be awake. But they weren’t just awake They were moving. I saw flocks of birds that night fly straight into trees just trying to get out of there. We came up on a pack of coyotes, nearly shot a couple thinking it was what we were looking for us, but then we saw they were running towards us. They ran right passed us, didn’t even notice.”

“Then some deer did the same. Then some rabbits, squirrels, foxes, even a couple wild hogs. These things were supposed to be eating each other and the only thing they cared about was getting out of there.”

“We should have put it together. That maybe whatever we were tracking, it wasn’t something we were supposed to see, and it wasn’t something we could kill. I don’t know why we didn’t just go home. I guess we were curious. I think that was my dads nature, to go toward trouble, to fight. And knowing what I knew about what my father did during the war, my nature was to stay close to him.”

“We finally get into an open valley. It was normally a soy field, but it wasn’t in season, so it was just flat dirt. We saw the tracks, then. A lot of the animals fleeing the forest had paved over the land. But where that deer blood was, nothing had taken a single step. Like they were leaving it for us to find.”

“The tracks were shallow. Whatever it was couldn’t have weighed more than one hundred pounds, but that didn’t mean much. A bobcat weighing forty pounds wet nearly tore out my damn throat, once. All that means is that its quick and hard to hit.”

“So we follow the tracks, and it doesn’t take us long to find where it is. There’s this old school house that sits on the top of a hill. Half of it had been ripped out by a tornado, but nobody lived there, not for a long time. We caught homeless people in there, sometimes, or druggies looking for a safe place to shoot up. We figured maybe that was it. Maybe it was some sick kid riding a high. But we didn’t think that for long.”

“We get within fifty yards, and we hear this noise. A screeching kinda sound. It was sort of made up of two different sounds. One was a high pitched screech, another was a low pitched growl. It was making both, at the same time.”

“We get within twenty yards, and we hear this sound. I can remember thinking that it sounded like paper being torn apart, while someone was swinging water in a bucket, back and forth.”

“Dad looks at me, kneels down, and whispers. I gotta stay behind him, ’cause we’re about to corner him. Any animal will fight when its cornered, specially when its a predator. But we can tell by the tracks that its just one. He tells me its probably a single, feral dog, probably rabid.”

“The plan is to sneak up on it while its eating, shoot it, and then keep shooting it ’till it don’t move anymore, then slit it’s throat. And if it gets to dad, It’s my job to shoot it or stab it to get it off him. So he walks up, and I’m right behind him, just a tad to his side, so I can see what it is. I wish to this day I hadn’t.”

“It was leaning over a carcass, tears off its flesh, and throws what it doesn’t nibble at aside. There’s blood all over the brick, glistening in the moonlight. It’s pale white. Human looking, but not quite human. It had arms and legs like a human, but it sat like a monkey, hunched over. And its hands weren’t normal; it had long fingers with claws at the end.”

“So we see that, and my dad hesitates. He wasn’t about to fire on a person. So he clears his throat, to try get it to turn around.”

“I swear to god, all the noise just ceased. I ain’t ever heard true silence before that, and not after it. But for two seconds, nothing, nothing, made any noise. Which made it all the louder when it turned around, made this shrill cry, and jumped on dad.”

“He got a shot off. I think he missed. If he hit the thing, it didn’t mind. But it was on him, tears parts of him off. I start shooting it with the twenty two, point blank, but it barely bled the thing. I got off five rounds, and then I started hitting it with the gun butt. But it wasn’t budging.”

“It didn’t even register that I was there.”

“It’s clawing at my dad, taking off bits of his flesh. It starts on his torso, ripping off the skin, his tit, then it moves up. It tore off his throat, it tore off his nose, his eyes, it scalped him. Then it started digging in, ripped off the bottom half of his jaw, the little bones and that tube in your neck, then his ribs.”

“I don’t exactly remember what happened, but somehow, my dads knife ends up in this things shoulder, and my dad ends up on my back. I’m running, and by god I’m running faster than I’d ever run before or after. And its following me. I end up back in the woods, opposite the ones we been in. I’m headin’ towards my landlords house, cause it’s half a mile away.”

“I can hear this thing, screeching and moaning. I hear these tree branches crack and get thrown around. It sounds like someone’s taking an ax to every single tree I pass, its cracking so loud and often, but I just ain’t looking back.”

“Finally, I trip into gravel. I look up and there’s my landlord and bunch of his buddies, drinking around a campfire. I scream and I cry, and they come over. I’m telling them to call an ambulance, and he looks at me, and I’ll never forget what he said.”

“‘What is that on your back?’ he asked me. Just as he said it, he saw. One of those godawful flannel shirts my dad wore everywhere. It was what was left of my dad. Most of his head, his torso, but nothing after the waist.”

“Suddenly we hear it. Screeching. He grabs me, my dad gets thrown on the ground. I’m fighting him, crying, cause I think we can still save him, somehow, but my dad had been gone ‘for I ever picked him up. He has to pick me up and throw me inside before I come with him.”

“He and his buddies, we’re all inside, and their locking doors, and getting guns. The landlord’s asking me ‘what happened?’ ‘what happened?’ but I just don’t know what to tell him. He pieced enough of it all together to understand that there was something dangerous there. All the lights in the house are on, and someone calls the cops. They’ll be there, but in fifteen minutes.”

“We look outside, and see it walk in front of the fire they’d made. Don’t know what it is, one of ‘em says it looks like an Ape. Suddenly, something goes through the window. We shoot at it, but ain’t the thing. Its my Landlord’s dog. Just the body, though. Not his head or legs.”

“We start pushing things in front of doors and windows, when we hear something the garage. I remember one of his friends sayin’ that the doors were open. We hear metal and glass just get ripped apart. We put a couch and a TV in front of the door to the garage.”

“It banged around some more, but then it got quiet. Not silent, like it was before. We could hear it move around some, and the guys were talking, making sure the guns were ready. Someone hands me a pistol. No sooner did I cock the hammer back did we hear something shatter upstairs. Then we heard it screech again. ‘cept now it was louder, and it didn’t echo and fade out. Because it was inside.”

“We all rushed to the one door leading upstairs, and we got to it just as that thing did. It opened it just a bit, and four or five men just slammed into it. It got its hand through. Someone with a shotgun took care of that. Put the barrel right up to its wrist and pulled the trigger. Cut its hand off, clean.”

“That only pissed it off, though. It started pushing on that door, clawing. We were on one side, pushing as best we could, and it was on the other, doing the same. That wood just wasn’t going to hold, so someone tells us to keep our heads down. Suddenly the top half of the door is just gone, my ears are ringing, and there are splinters everywhere. Two or three of them just unloaded on the top of that door.”

“I don’t really know where it went after that. The police got there. I was still glued to that door, what was left of it. The sun was up before they got me off it. They put me in a hospital for a while. A lot of people talked to me, but I didn’t talk back, not for a long, long time.”

“When I got back home, I got a job for the landlord, working on the farm. We didn’t talk much, not about the thing. But, I signed up for the army when I was nineteen, and he sat me down to drink some scotch as a send off. I asked him, right away, what the police told him. The story they went with was a wild animal, probably a wolf, or maybe a bear that had migrated north. I asked him how they could say that when they had the hand. He looks at me, stunned.”

“He tells me that hand never made it back to the station. The cop who had it in his car wrecked, drove into a tree, died on impact. The hand was never found, probably taken away by an animal. The cops, when they would acknowledge the hand existed at all, said it was simply the paw of a bear that looked like a human hand.”

“I never talked to the Landlord again. He went missing when I was in basic. Never found him. They said he owed some people some money and just ran away, but I don’t think its that simple. I never went back to those woods. I wouldn’t even if I had the whole goddamn US Army at my back.”

But that was a lie. When my mother died, I don’t think my father felt he had anything left, and that he might as well settle old scores. He went to those woods. He never came back. FBI was called, they did a show for everyone involved, but I knew they weren’t really looking. I had to get one drunk and slip him a few fifties before he finally told me that they get a few calls about those woods every year, about someone up and vanishing. But that was all he wanted to tell me. Before he got up and left with the rest of his team, he wrote “The Rake” onto a napkin. I didn’t know what I meant until I searched for it on the internet. Honestly, I would have rather not known.

Credit To – Max Minton

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Rating: 9.0/10 (629 votes cast)
Skinwalker, 9.0 out of 10 based on 629 ratings
  • not the rake.

    Honestly amazing. Id like more.

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    Rating: +15 (from 17 votes)
    • Max Minton

      High praise, coming from you. Hope I did you justice.

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      Rating: +2 (from 4 votes)
  • 000013

    So that’s the claw that the dog found, oh well, tasted good.

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    Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
  • tylar

    Not really scary, but nonetheless a pasta that’s damn near perfect. 9.2/10

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    Rating: -1 (from 9 votes)
  • Rutabaga_machine

    Great story 10/10

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    Rating: +3 (from 7 votes)
  • Lt Sarcasm

    Great story, one question how did his dad survive if there was only a his head and most of his torso left?
    And that he got literally torn apart

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    Rating: -18 (from 30 votes)
    • A random dude

      If I’m correct it’s his dad’s dad

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      Rating: +12 (from 14 votes)
  • Tariq R.

    A Rake story. I see. How do I say this…I thought the story was really cool, and it was exactly my type of story (in that it was about action/people doing stuff). It was well written.

    But I think if I didn’t know about the Rake before I read this, it wouldn’t have been nearly as creepy. I think the description of the Rake itself could have been better. I thought the way the forest animals being scared was described well, but it wasn’t enough [for someone who didn't read the rake story].

    I also don’t think the ending was conclusive enough. Guy’s Dad dies, and a few people do every year. Okay. I just wish the narrator was involved somehow. Well. It could have ended on something creepier, I don’t know what.

    Still, well written story, I really liked it.

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    Rating: +5 (from 17 votes)
  • NovaMaria

    The first Rake story terrified me..this probably scared me more. Awesome pasta

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    Rating: +4 (from 6 votes)
  • AmayaK

    Has potential but no

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    Rating: -12 (from 18 votes)
  • Crow

    Hey, not bad. Something that initially confused me was the last paragraph, and I got mixed up on who “Dad” referred to, but then I remembered the story spanned three generations, so the narrator’s dad also called his father dad. I think you needed a bit of clarity on that.

    Still, this was an enjoyable story. Good description, excellent setting, good pacing, and it was fun to hear about the Rake, too. Thank you for writing.

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    Rating: +5 (from 7 votes)
  • N

    I really dont know how to rate this pasta. Something’s missing and I cant really point it out.

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    Rating: -4 (from 6 votes)
  • C. F. Campbell

    I have not read the original Rake tale, so I came into this with no prior impressions. I thought this was very well written. The part about being in the woods with that thing was scary, but knowing that it tried to get the people in the house was horrifying.

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    Rating: +9 (from 9 votes)
  • Sanetokane

    This is incredibly hard for me to read for some reason. Maybe because it is one person telling about another person telling a story. There’s no indication whether it’s the dad or the granddad talking and whether it’s happening now, or in the past. Maybe it’s just me and the fact that it’s almost 2 AM here. Still, because of that fact, I can’t bring myself to give this otherwise great pasta more than an 7/10.

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    Rating: +3 (from 5 votes)
  • Candlejackass

    Normally, whenever I start to read something and the names “Slender Man, Jeff the Killer, or The Rake” pop up, I roll my eyes. But this was good. Damn good. Thanks for makinf a tired subject exciting (and scary) again. 10/10

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    Rating: +5 (from 5 votes)
  • http://creepypasta MRS.CANDLEJACK


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    Rating: -1 (from 3 votes)
  • Shape Shafter

    The Rake is a yee naaldlooshii? Interesting…pretty good read. Confusing in parts. Not p articularily well written. Fun idea. 7/10. Best rake story besides the original. Keep reading and writing

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    Rating: 0 (from 4 votes)
  • Max Minton

    If you liked this, you’ll like the narrated version; it works much better spoken than written.

    Appreciate all the positive feedback!

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    Rating: +3 (from 3 votes)
  • Mason

    Okay the part where the ” den of deer” was me roomed threw me off, and how you said predators won’t approach a den o deer because its to much of a fight. You must be from the city because there is no sic thing as a den of deer. Maybe you mean a heard? And deer don’t put up any fight towards predators, they simply run, anyone with any hunting experience would know this. But others than its alright, haha.

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    Rating: -4 (from 4 votes)
    • Max Minton

      I find “Dens” all the time of deer. As in, where a deer sleeps for the night. They usually stick to one for about a week and move on. Although, I’ve only noticed mothers and their children do this, no adult males. I don’t know if males do it or not. The den is a name for the location, not the deer themselves.

      And no, they can fight. Especially if they have antlers, as some females do. One deer will wreck one coyotes shit. I’ve watched it happen. Its hilarious. Again, its only when a mothers protecting her child or when they get backed into a corner, and we’re pretending this “Den” was a corner.

      Different breeds of deer do have different behavior, but the ones I’ve seen act like i wrote. I promise. The first part about My dad and I hunting Coyotes for fifty bucks a skin is very, very true. I used to be a big hunter and outdoorsy guy.

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      Rating: +4 (from 4 votes)
  • Ali

    One of the most creepiest pastas I’ve ever read! Jeez, I don’t even want to leave my room now since the lights are off in the kitchen… Words can’t described how awesome this was!!!!! Well done! Bravo, bravo! Encore! Encore! \(^_^)/

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    Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
  • Faith

    Very good story. I heard this story read the first time I heard it and that made it much creepier. Very good work.

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    Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
  • berb

    Okaycsoclike u told the story from your dads point of view. And in the story you said that that your dads dad (grandfather) died. And then works for the landlord and never asks about it except for right b4 he leaves and goes into the army and HE Never saw the landlord again… blah blah blah. And then your dads mom (grandmother) died later and then your grandfather magically reappears alive and unharmed and unraped then he dies again by going back again to settle a score. Unless you meant to make a transition to where you come into the story which then wouldn’t make any sense bc your dad went into the army and the landlord went missing while he was in basic. But this is still a pretty good story… just a few parts don’t make any sense. Like at all. But still creepy and a good story.

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    Rating: -2 (from 2 votes)
    • Eh

      No, the narrators mom died, not his grandma. His father was the one who went in the army and the one who went looking for the Rake/Skinwalker in the end.

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  • Nezumi

    Eh, I like it as a story, but not as a Rake story. I’d only read the original prior to this one… and this makes the Rake seem too much like simply an animal, albeit a supernatural one, rather than the honest-to-god inexplicable and seemingly intelligent monster it was in the original story.

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  • Shinra

    I liked your story :) it’s a good addition to it’s predecessors. But in some places there’s some lazy writing (ie: rushed sentences with missing words). Also, in your future projects watch out on switching from past/present tense – it’s totally fine when it’s a person speaking but if the narration swaps tense mid-paragraph it makes the writing look a tad sloppy. 9/10 I really enjoyed reading, look forward to more!

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  • Anonymous

    Awwwwwwesome pasta man

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  • Grim Gamer

    December 29, 2013
    Normally, whenever I start to read something and the names “Slender Man, Jeff the Killer, or The Rake” pop up, I roll my eyes. But this was good. Damn good. Thanks for makinf a tired subject exciting (and scary) again. 10/10

    The only reason you roll your eyes about these stories is because of the fans…they are idiots, and the stories can do nothing about that.

    Anyways, nice story. X) I rate this 5/10!

    Grim Gamer

    Blood is red, corpses are blue, I like CreepyPasta, don’t you?…

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    Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
  • Keion Bacon

    Yeah we seen skin walkers in my rez a lot they are real and it’s not called the take it’s the devil himself I’m not shitting you it’s nothing to play with or to take as a joke

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    Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)

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