Creepypasta

Scary Paranormal Stories & Short Horror Microfiction

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Post-Its by Ciaran Lovejoy / CreepyPastaSr

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Crappypasta Success Stories

The Pursuit Institute by Liam Vickers

Two years ago, a bunch of my friends and I went on a school sponsored trip to Alaska set up by the Pursuit Institute. I was placed in a group with nine, no, ten other students, and two adult chaperones. Another group was also made up of similar numbers, and each group would start at one location and then we would switch places halfway through. The trip would consist mostly of hiking and backpacking in Denali where we would camp in tents and then hiking near the Kenai Peninsula where we would stay in a cabin.… Read the rest

A Cold Love Story by Liam Vickers

I sent the text to my friend max, reading, “Dude, are you at school?” The bus was already a good 20 minutes late.

It was late November, and it was cold.

So damn cold.

My eyes burned against the outside air, and each intake of breath was like swallowing razor blades. Everything was dim, tinted a dull blue, and all was eerily still, seemingly frozen in time. Mercury in the thermometers had settled to the bottom, refusing to budge.

I could see my breath as it shimmered against the thin air, warping and climbing upwards in despair before vanishing.… Read the rest

Our trip started in late February as my three friends, John, Steve, Max, and I drove my truck deep into the backwoods of Boxwood Gulch to follow the North Fork of the South Platte River. Steve owned a cabin up in the backcountry, so we left my truck there and began our 57 mile hike into the wooded terrain following the river.

We had all of our camping and fishing gear packed, and enough food to hopefully last us the 3 day journey both ways. The pre-spawn bass wouldn’t be an easy catch once we reached the hole, but if we were going to endure this brutal cold, we wouldn’t go home without a fight.… Read the rest

I’ll first tell you what I do for a living, as it will bring some understanding to my situation. I run my own business, if you could call it that. I’ve thought of it more as a personal service. I break into the home or building of a client’s choice, destroy or steal whatever they want, provide proof of the action, then I get payed (quite substantially, if I may add). My clients usually take the form of a middle class man angered at their boss, or a recently dumped individual who wants revenge on their ex. Essentially, I do the work that one has the anger and desire to do, but doesn’t have the actual nerve to do it themselves.… Read the rest

I awoke that night to Echo, my dog, barking up a storm. He was perched on the edge of my bed, facing the door and yapping away like crazy. I scratched him behind the ear to get him to calm down and guided him to his usual spot on my bed.
In hindsight, him barking was the first warning.
My brain, overactive as it is, was curious as to why he was behaving so oddly. Echo rarely barked at anything, so it was unlikely he was barking at nothing. Perhaps there is a skunk in the yard, I thought to myself.… Read the rest

This is a Crappypasta Success Story – a story that was rewritten with the feedback received on Crappypasta and accepted for the main site. You can see the Crappypasta posting for this story here: The Lost

My name is Clare and I’m from a small country in central Europe. Many people have probably never heard of it. My country has everything from a small coastline on the Adriatic Sea to the majestic Alps but most of the landscape consists of small green hills, each with a little church on top. Almost two thirds of my country is covered with forests and the capitol is famous for its middle age architecture.… Read the rest

If there is one day in my life that has defined me it has to be back when I was a younger lad. I must give a bit of background though. I started seeing things moving out of the corner of my eye. Now seeing something slightly move out of my line of sight didn’t really bother me that much. Even the noises while I was trying to sleep didn’t throw me off that much. My upstairs neighbors are some of the weirdest people I have ever meet. One edited his apartment to be able to practice Javelin and another one was a Peruvian flute player.… Read the rest

Murder is an incredibly human concept, when you think of it. All species kill; to protect their young, to cull those unfit, most often in order to stay alive- everyone needs to eat.
And yet, in nature, all causes of death are natural. We exist simply for existence’ sake. All victories, large and small, all worlds we build- everything we do, will die. Of course, it might be remembered, for a little while, by other, equally perishable beings. But, in the end, existence will cease to exist. That is the way of the world. All things come to an end. Eventually.… Read the rest

Before I begin, let me explain what is happening to me. The technical term for what I am is called an eidetic. You’ve probably heard of people with photographic memories, well that’s what it is, except eidetics are not limited by the visual sense in what they remember. While each case varies in their specific capabilities, feelings of sound, taste, smell and touch can also be vividly recalled at any time. Some eidetics are also known to have the ability to see what they are thinking. This is the category that I belong in.

I have to admit, this ability does have its perks.… Read the rest

“What’s your story?” berated the man. It was dark, and the boy couldn’t see the man’s face, yet he could still tell it had a twisted smirk on it.

“What does it matter now?” whimpered the boy. His weakened mind wandered to the thought of his struggles, a long and terrible tale. He couldn’t help but to recall his life before this misadventure, not that terribly long ago, and how greatly even he had changed. Always a skinny fellow, the boy seemed impossibly lean and malnourished, with his shoulders stooped over and a face covered in the grime of mud, dirt, dried blood, and shit.… Read the rest

My wife is going to kill herself in 5 to 7 business days.

I’d found the order for a jug of Xanaphril while clearing the internet history of porn and was contemplating it now. I’d known my wife Cindy had been unhappy but I guess hadn’t registered how much yet. Was this a cry for help? Should I say something or just let it fade into the background noise like all of her other passive complaints?

“Are you ever coming to bed?” Her voice bridges on a shout, causing me to start and close the browser window from habit. A shout.… Read the rest

A few years ago, a group of college kinds were getting ready for spring break. One informed the rest that his uncle who owns a cabin in the woods would be gone for the weekend, and gave them permission to use it as they wish.

Though one or two weren’t interested to stay in a run down old cabin for a weekend, they reluctantly agreed and took the trip.

They enjoyed their weekend and returned safely.

Credit To: Max C

DERPNOTE: This pasta is a Crappypasta Success Story. That means that it received enough upvotes during its time on Crappypasta for it to be posted on the main archive.Read the rest

Don’t read this because it actually works. Now youve started reading, you can’t stop. A girl named Kathy drowned to death. If you email or repost this comment to three more videos, tommorrow will be the best day of you life. If you don’t repost this comment on at least three videos, Kathy will come for you when your sleeping. This is so scary because it actually works

Billy examined the message. He hummed and hawed over it, scratching his chin. On any other day, Billy would have done what the message said. After all, he didn’t want to die within three days, and he did want to have the best day of his life “tommorrow”.  … Read the rest

Finally, I’m home. After working a late night, I finally finished a project that my boss pushed on me. It was all worth it though, because I had a great day ahead of me. The part I was most excited for though, was seeing my son. I finally won the custody battle against my ex-wife, so now I actually get to see him. I fixed up my old spare bedroom for him, although it looked bland in all white. I figured we would have some spare time later and we could make any changes he wanted. I lumbered up the stairs, and when he finally heard I was here, he quickly called me into his room.… Read the rest

The sun commits suicide upon the pointed spikes of the mountain slopes, and is reincarnated as a floating blue ghost glaring through the boarded window. The walls chuckle quietly, coughing as some small rat scurries to the other side. An opossum galumphs across the attic above me, making some sort of growl as it goes. I stare around at this room, then down at my bandaged body. The room looks like it has survived some sort of apocalypse in a box. Papers with writing that no one will ever read scatter the floors. The yellow glow of a candle in the hallway dies, its ashy ghost blowing down the hall in the draft.… Read the rest

It may be hard to believe for those of us born in the digital age—when every embarrassing moment can potentially be uploaded to Youtube for posterity—but an estimated 70% of all films from the silent era are thought to be lost.  Of the silent film directors whose works have largely vanished, perhaps the most intriguing, at least for me, is the German director Kai Winckelmann (1887-1926).  Although influential in his own era, he has since been largely forgotten, for reasons which I believe will become readily apparent if you read further in this article.

Winckelmann was born on September 18th, 1887 in Offenbach am Main, the son of a butcher.  … Read the rest

I don’t think there’s a college that doesn’t have its share of legends. Stories range from the ghost of the girl who was pregnant with the football coach’s child to the creature that roams a building at night. And everything is said to kill you in the most horrible fashion if you run into it, of course. My school, Miskatonic University, up in Maine, was no exception.

In addition to the obligatory ghost stories of the suicides and murder victims still haunting the grounds, there was a story of an evil creature that liked to torture its victims by scaring them for days on end before killing them.… Read the rest

“No one will come for you”
That’s what he said every night as I lay entombed in the fears I had long ago resigned myself to my brother loves to torment me. He always has. He’s always taken great pleasure in my fear and misery. His idea of fun.

When I was 3 years old I vividly remember ever night: At around 9 o’clock, my mother would tell me it was time for bed. She would tuck me into the bottom bunk of an old steel, self-assemble bunk bed. She would kiss my forehead before saying goodnight, turning the light off and leaving the room closing the door tight.… Read the rest

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