Scary Paranormal Stories & Short Horror Microfiction

Creepypasta

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You can call me terrible, horrible, or the worst best friend you have ever heard of. But by the end of my story, I hope you realize why I did what I did, why I stood back and let my best friend die, and most importantly, I hope you don’t judge me.

We had just graduated, my best friend Eric and I, barely starting our lives and going out of town for college with nothing to look back on. We had moved out and in together, same school, jobs and everything since we didn’t know anyone miles from home. We spent almost every moment together, we grew stronger than we had ever been, and I was finally starting to fall in love with this boy that I had known my entire life. Everything was working out perfect, like something in a movie, something I never thought would happen to someone like me. I was ecstatic.

We had rented to own a house, a quaint, cheap, perfect little home for two college kids, and as a few years passed, we decided to start redecorating slowly but surely. Being a forensic science major, of course he wanted to look up more information about our house before we started tearing down anything, I had assured him that it wasn’t necessary, but his hardheaded ways prevailed again. So he searched, and he dug, and he found every bit of history he could get his hands on. Eric lost sleep and missed classes but he didn’t care the least bit. This went on for a good two or three weeks and I started to feel like I was the only sane being in the house.

He wouldn’t speak to me about anything he found out, he just kept saying that it was all “uninteresting”, but those bags under his once brilliant blue eyes proved to me that every single bit of what he uncovered was much more than “uninteresting”. I soon convinced Eric that he needed to go back to school, that he was acting ridiculous and couldn’t afford to do this anymore, he agreed after a while and I began my planning.

I was determined to find out everything he knew one way or another. So I started to stay home the days he left for school. I went through everything he owned until I came across a journal of his, where he had written down absolutely all he found, and to my horror, I became entranced. I read about the previous owners and the awful things they did in our home. The séances, the bloodletting, all of the miscarried children and affairs. Everything. I didn’t know how he knew all of this, but it sounded too true to be made up. I couldn’t believe my eyes, I didn’t want to. Because along with his notes about the houses past, he also wrote small diary entry’s. He said things I would of never expected to hear from him, things that he saw, and felt. The interactions he had with the spirit of the woman he saw in here, his attempt at retrieving the spirits and finding out more. He was losing his mind. He had gone mad over our house and there was no way of getting him to end it.

I started to do research of my own, knowing my will was much stronger than his, I was sure I wouldn’t get sucked in like he did. So I began. Everything I found in the library were things I already knew from his journal, and it wasn’t enough. I wanted, no, I needed to know more.  I started to ask the neighbors, the landlord, anyone who I thought might know anything I didn’t. They all said the same things, every single person. It was so frustrating that there wasn’t a damned thing that led anywhere. I started to look for things around the house again, markings, hidden secrets, anything that would feed my mind information about the house or its past owners, but wound up with nothing.

Eric was slowly starting to slip back into old habits, and I was afraid he was going to figure out that I was searching as well. I couldn’t let him find out, we couldn’t both lose sleep over our own house, so I quit. I let him carry this burden on his own, I knew he wouldn’t get very far since I didn’t. But oh, I don’t think I could of called that one anymore wrong. He found out so much more than I did, he knew all the right places to look. But I didn’t bother asking anymore. I just let him take care of it on his own. I knew I couldn’t stop him, and it was getting to the point that he was a completely different person. I needed to take care of myself, I couldn’t handle all of these worries.

I started to see less and less of Eric as the weeks passed, he began to lock himself in his room for hours on end. I was curious, I was anxious, but over all, I was ecstatic. The same feelings that I had felt when we moved in, swarmed my body one night in my sleep during a dream, and I woke up with a smile on my face. I had had an epiphany that night, and I knew exactly what I needed to do.

I began to wait up till three or four in the morning, just to start screaming bloody murder from my room, and as soon as I heard his panicked footsteps approaching my door, I’d abruptly stop and pretend I was sleeping. He never asked and I never told, I was amazed that he never caught on, but he liked his secrets too much. I started to add on to my hopes of making him lose his mind faster. I had realized that if he kept on, then our lives would be ruined. I couldn’t handle all of this crazy. I needed it to stop. So I fed his imagination, I fed it till it was fat and ready to explode. And I knew soon enough, it would.

I soon befriended the town butcher, telling him I was doing research for school and I needed as many bones as he could lend me. He gladly agreed since his favorite doggy customer didn’t stop by anymore. So I collected, in secret, all of these tools that I needed to set us free. After a good month or so, I had what I wanted. One night, as Eric was sleeping soundly, I crept in and placed each bone on his wooden floor, quietly, perfectly, and returned to my own bed. That night I couldn’t sleep, as disgusted as I am now by those feelings, I felt like a kid on Christmas eve back then. So I did what I did almost every week, I screamed, louder than I ever have, and as soon as I heard him return my scream with one of his own, I knew he had found my gift to him. I ran over to his bedroom calling for him, and as I opened the door I let my jaw drop and played a fool. “wha…what the hell is all of this mess Eric?!” “I have no earthly idea Meri. I honestly don’t”. I climbed into his bed with him, placing my hand on his face to calm him down. He finally started to explain to me the things he knew, he confessed everything that night, asking how I didn’t hear the screaming that occurred so often. I just looked him in the eyes and said it was probably all in his head. He said he knew it was, and he couldn’t take it anymore. But it was far too late for him. That night we stayed up till sunrise, and I listened to everything he had to say, and as soon as he mentioned the slightest hint of suicide, I knew he was ready, and I knew I was ready to help him. That evening we sat at the dining room table in silence, the first time we had sat there together in a month. I looked at him and I could just see how he was sick of it all, his eyes cried into mine as we locked stares. I felt him ask me for help in those five minutes we sat there, and without a word, we both got up and headed to his room. He sat on his bed, and I walked around his floor of decay for a few seconds. I came to a halt at his nightstand,and slowly opened the top drawer, a lonely .357 magnum sat atop hundreds of pages from a torn out book, and I knew exactly what our next move should be. I took the gun casually in one hand and gave him a soft, warm gaze in his eyes, and handed him his future. He looked down at his hands, and then back up at me, he knew exactly what he wanted, and he was glad I was there to help. He let out a deep sigh, and I turned around knowing that it was time. The seconds that it took felt like hours, as if it didn’t go by fast enough. My ears only rang, and I darted around to see the mangled head of my love buried faced down in his pillow. I didn’t scream, or cry, I didn’t even feel my heart beat change. I walked over, laid down, and held his lifeless body in my arms for days, until the cops showed up, and by that time I was so delusional from dehydration and starvation I didn’t know what was going on. I was away for a long time before they figured out it was a suicide, they didn’t blame me for holding him, and I was found not guilty. Its been years since I’ve been able to tell my story of how it all exactly happened. No one would believe me, they wouldn’t understand that I did it out of love. They could never know what I meant. Some nights I still scream at the top of my lungs to see if he’ll come running. He usually does.

Credit To: Meredith E. Ripper

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Rating: 7.3/10 (206 votes cast)
Taking Time For All The Wrong Reasons, 7.3 out of 10 based on 206 ratings
  • sara

    i’m surprised no one else has left a comment for this pasta yet. i think it was very well done. perfectly creepy!

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    Rating: +9 (from 9 votes)
    • Meredith Ripper

      Why thank you very much.

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      Rating: +3 (from 5 votes)
  • Wow really?

    … This is terrible, Your taking what is in movies and now your putting it on writing.. WHAT THE HECK, STOP LETTING THE GIRLS GET ALL THE GLORY, IM SICK AND TIRED OF SURVIVOR GIRLS OR SUPERWOMEN! KNOCK IT OFF THIS IS THE WORST STORY EVER. I want girls to die in every movie btw.

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    Rating: -40 (from 50 votes)
    • Megan W.

      Someone’s a little bit mysogonic.

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      Rating: +12 (from 16 votes)
    • Nebraska Jones

      This better be a troll or I will be angry for days. I hope there aren’t still people who are really like that.

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      Rating: +8 (from 10 votes)
      • E

        Their part of the he man women haters club

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        Rating: +7 (from 9 votes)
    • Women.

      Sexist all because “your sick and tired of the girls getting the glory” doesn’t mean you can’t BITCH about

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      Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)
    • KarlaRei

      Well, that escalated out of no-fucking-where.

      I’m not sure if the internet is the place for you, sir.

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      Rating: +4 (from 4 votes)
    • TheIntimateAvenger

      Congratulations, you managed to completely miss the point. It’s not about a strong woman surviving a horror story, it’s about a crazy bitch who kills her friend.

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      Rating: +3 (from 3 votes)
  • what did i just read

    i don’t get it?

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    Rating: +1 (from 5 votes)
    • POWER LEVELS!!!

      after she started looking into the houses history she went mad and drove Eric to kill him self out of “love” to free him of his suffering. thats kind of how i see it. its open to interpritation.

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      Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
  • janniex

    :O

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    Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
  • TheRadHatter

    This is sad :(

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    Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
  • Eazy E

    U WOT M8

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    Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
  • StoneH

    Wow, the ending was great! But all the "could of"s and "should of"s instead of "could’ve" and "should’ve" really bothered me.

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    Rating: 0 (from 4 votes)
  • Endoplasmic Reticulum

    OMG it was YOU who was screaming their head off in the house next door!

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    Rating: +6 (from 6 votes)
    • Meredith Ripper

      sorry /:

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      Rating: +6 (from 6 votes)
  • https://www.facebook.com/betonunesneto Alberto N.

    Awesome story, but kind of confusing in some bits and there are a couple mistakes here and there but overall, nice job!

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    • Meredith Ripper

      this is my very first pasta, I’m hoping to do a lot better next time!! Thank you! (:

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      Rating: +3 (from 5 votes)
  • Minnie001

    I don’t understand the ending too well…. can someone enlighten me a bit?

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  • DerpDeDerp

    It was good, although the last huge chunk paragraph should have been split into normal size paragraphs.

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    Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
  • Nocturne

    I didn’t really like the beginning. It was like you’re telling me to hate you before I even read the story. Overall, though, great pasta! A little confusing at first, but when I read it again it made sense. Good job!

    PS change the should of and could ofs into should’ves, etc.

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    Rating: +3 (from 5 votes)
  • http://www.karlarei2003.deviantart.com KarlaRei

    I really loved this one.

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    Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
  • wxyz

    Im so torn. On one hand I really loved the plot. It seemed original and in some respects well written. However, the story as a whole didn’t make a lot of sense, there were a ton of grammar mistakes, and I didn’t like the execution overall. The opening paragraph was a little disagreeable and the justifications were weak…not creepy. Still sort of liked it, though.

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    Rating: 0 (from 2 votes)
  • Thatonegirl

    Very good pasta
    nomnomnom

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    Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
  • Brent

    Very well done, Meri. If there were grammar mistakes, they were so few and far between that they didn’t detract from the story.

    The plot was outstanding and original. I’m not sure what the other commenters found confusing. I was able to follow the story with no trouble at all. Also, I thought the beginning was perfect. It usually takes a couple of paragraphs before I find myself invested in the story and characters. You had me from the first two sentences.

    The characters weren’t as developed as I would have preferred. I was invested in them but not as much as I could have been, were more details given about their relationship and history. There were some bits that I found a little too vague. Whether it was done intentionally to add a sense of mystery or they were just oversights, a little more of an explanation about why certain things were happening would go a long way.

    Overall, I really enjoyed this pasta. If this was your first piece of literary work, I genuinely look forward to reading what you write next.

    8/10 :)

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    Rating: +3 (from 3 votes)

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