Scary Paranormal Stories & Short Horror Microfiction

Creepypasta

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Rating: 7.0/10 (153 votes cast)

It seemed especially hot there in the middle of a mass of vehicles of all shapes and sizes, from all around the country. It was a miniature city of heat and exhaust fumes within the city itself. Not the most wonderful place in the world, but then, the morning commute never was. I was slightly later than I normally was. I’d had a appointment with my doctor that morning which could not be skipped. I’d known my doctor since childhood, and his treatments had always done worked miracles where his colleagues had seen nothing but darkness. Other professionals in medicine talked about my condition as some sort of great mystery of the world, like it was an ancient mayan temple found at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico. My condition was chronic, deadly, and without any cure. Or at least, no cure until my doctor had began treating me.

The traffic moved forward a few yards, and I almost started to hope that whatever had caused the gridlock had gone away. I had been disappointed by similar situations too often in the past to begin to really and truly hope for a break in traffic. I was a scientist, a rational man of our time. I couldn’t be hoping. I had to work with facts and facts alone. However, traffic was indeed clearing up, and I continued down to the chemical lab where I worked. I parked my car and walked in. My coworkers were already hard at their work, hard at solving the problems of the world. Educated men of reason, each and every one of us, pushing the masses towards progress with hard information and research. We were doing real work. I continued down towards the area where I worked, and sat down at my desk. The lab itself was rather bleak, especially the rooms for experimentation, but I had gotten used to it. Besides, decorations were superfluous and unnecessary for hard working men of facts.

I briefly dug around in my pocket for the prescription my doctor had given me. It was in my writing, but that was only because my doctor had a hand problem. He dictated his prescriptions to his patients, trusting their health to them. I always trusted my doctor. It was trust he had earned over years of success. His treatments were successful, but unorthodox. My parents hadn’t liked them, and the doctors my parents chose had only frowned and given me pills. My doctor didn’t talk to me when I took those poison pills, so I never took them. This upset my parents very much, but I knew better. I knew my doctor knew me better than those other doctors. He could give me proper treatment.

The newest treatment I would be undergoing was a special course, newly invented by my doctor. It was truly a visionary theory. I knew so. He recommended applying firm, steady pressure to the carotid artery for periods of time between 4 and 5 hours per day, to attack my condition at the source. Ah, what genius! What a true luminary in his field! Truly, he was the last great giant of the medical field. I had taken off my belt and fastened it tightly around my neck the way the doctor had shown me in his office. I began to feel light headed, and feel very faint, but my doctor had said that was normal. I simply focused on the slow, constricted pounding of my artery, and the rasping of my breathe growing steadily weaker. My doctor said this would help remove some of the discomfort I would feel while treating myself. My vision was just going black as my doctor said it would when a I noticed several of my coworkers rushing to my desk and fiddling with the belt. Why, why must these people interfere with genius?

I woke up in the hospital again. I don’t like the hospital. The beds are so much less comfortable than they are in the asylum. From what I could gather, I had somehow gotten a belt into my room, and was trying to kill myself with it. I had been saved just in time by the assistants at the asylum. I tried explaining to the nurse what was really happening, but she wouldn’t listen. I toned it down, and asked a little more about what I had talked about while I was “delusional”. Ha! As if men of science and reason can be deluded! She told me I had thought I was at the chemical lab where I used to work, and that was all the assistants at the asylum could gather. That was new, I didn’t remember going back there after my appointment with my doctor. It must have been a trick, just one more method those assistants had thought of to try to get me to swallow the poison. The nurse handed me a pill and a glass of water. I held the pill in my mouth and pretended to swallow it like always, then laid back in the bed until the nurse was satisfied. I spit out the pill as soon as she left. I sat up in bed and stomped it to dust, so they would never suspect I had guessed their trick of trying to poison me. Everything else was the same. My doctor’s genius would never be appreciated. I hated to bother him so much. His plans were always being upset. I hadn’t been allowed to spring from the balcony and cure myself with pressure to the spine, or eat the fungi to cure myself from the stomach, and now my doctors latest attempt was also foiled. I would have to go back to him. Luckily, he was a man of science and reason, like me. Neither of us would stop until we had our cure.

Credit To – AH

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Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.0/10 (153 votes cast)
The Doctor, 7.0 out of 10 based on 153 ratings
  • JerkOlaf

    Couldn’t done get past the first paragraph. Haha. But seriously, the character knew the doctor since childhood, yet all those other doctors they for some reason visited couldn’t help, so they went to the place logic would dictate they should and most likely would have started. I’m not expert but doesn’t your primary care physician refer you to specialists?

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    Rating: -18 (from 20 votes)
    • Ahriannah

      Read the story again please. It isnt a real doctor, he is talking about a voice in his head. Delusional Schizophrenia disorder. Hence why the “Doctor” will not talk to him when he takes the pills, or suggests that he do things that would kill him.

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      Rating: +12 (from 12 votes)
    • SinisterExaggerator

      The primary doctor is a delusion. The other doctors couldn’t go back to him because he didn’t exist. The fact that the narrator was hallucinating both the doctor and his suicidal prescriptions, then acting on them (that is to say, his mental illness), was what the other doctors couldn’t help.

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      Rating: +6 (from 6 votes)
    • Marli666

      You might want to actually read the whole story before jumping to conclusions.

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      Rating: +9 (from 9 votes)
    • TimberWolf

      his main “doctor” is a hallucination.

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      Rating: +4 (from 4 votes)
  • Sepia

    A madnesspasta where the protagonist is already starkly insane rarely gets points, but this one IMO executed the premise passably enough, considering the challenges.

    I liked how this pasta played with delusions, constructing a facade a madman could’ve actually built. The protagonist’s uncanny worship of the ‘men of reason’ cues us readers on his actual condition: only the mad claim to be completely sane.

    The delusions are also a sad echo of his former self, replaying that ideal of rationality; giving hints that at some level he is painfully aware of his madness. This gives rather welcome characterization, though IMO this pasta was still lacking in that department.

    The doctor was a rather clever sleight. ‘He’ is another ‘man of reason’, giving a obscuring, rational mask to the protagonist’s suicidal delusions. The doctor’s methods also parody the quacks whose emotional appeals and unorthodox methods can actually kill.

    Critically though, the prose was barren. While the madman’s exposition is the point of the pasta, the rambles turn boring rather quickly- a common fault in already-mad pastas. Had there been dialogue, or a palpable ripple in emotions breaking the faux-rationality the pasta would’ve been more colorful.

    The conclusion also came off as abrupt: the protagonist suddenly gains enough lucidity to explain conclusively to the reader that yes, he is raving mad. I would’ve preferred a more subtle clue-in rather than a streaking reveal, since the point of the pasta was to obscure the protagonist’s madness.

    All in all, a flawed but quite creative use of the madnesspasta. 6.6/10

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    Rating: +7 (from 11 votes)
  • Ahriannah

    Loved the story, wasnt really expecting the end!

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    Rating: +2 (from 4 votes)
  • Clonedspork

    Didn’t like it. Reminded me too much of what my grandmother was saying when she went thru Alzheimers.

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    Rating: 0 (from 4 votes)
    • Alfred Frederick Dinglebottom

      I’m very sorry to hear about your Grandmother.

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      Rating: +5 (from 5 votes)
  • Phoenix

    I like the idea of this pasta, I just wish the doctor was revealed to be imaginary later in the story. Once it was said that the doctor wouldn’t speak to him when he took the pills, the ending was pretty much made obvious. It was a nice touch though, having the doctor tell the man different ways to “cure” himself, when really they were suicide methods.

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    Rating: +4 (from 4 votes)
  • inxtcy

    ugh…The Doc is a figment of his imagination.

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    Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
  • AppleWedge

    From the way the story was written, I could not tell if the protagonist had been in an asylum for the entire story or if he had been moved there after the belt incident. The way he rambled about “men of logic and reason” without ever even telling us what sort of science he worked with lead me to believe that he had been insane throughout the entire story.

    PS: Was he the doctor?

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    Rating: -2 (from 2 votes)
    • Alfred Frederick Dinglebottom

      The Doctor was a figment of his imagination. It’s likely that the narrator had some form of Schizophrenic disorder.

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      Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
  • Anonymous

    He mentions that the doctors treatments worked miracles and were successful, but isn’t that not the case if this man is still alive? I mean, assuming this “doctors” only intention is to have this man kill himself. It felt like there was a lot of fluff; things were either really not necessary to the story, or it was something repeated, just reworded. I liked it, but I think it could be cleaned up a bit.

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    Rating: +1 (from 7 votes)
  • BooBoo

    I’m sorry but this begs the question Then Who Was Doctor?

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    Rating: -3 (from 9 votes)
  • Heather

    You didn’t read the whole story so your comment just sounds dumb.

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    Rating: -4 (from 6 votes)
    • The Killer Known As Jeff

      You must be new here.

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      Rating: -2 (from 4 votes)
  • varin

    “My condition was chronic, deadly, and without any cure”

    and at that point I was like “Yeah, just like life”

    I guess you can imagine how i rofled when I came to the end of the story

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    Rating: +3 (from 5 votes)
  • Tollipar

    I thought this whole pasta was about “The Doctor” Like Doctor Who.

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    Rating: +1 (from 5 votes)
    • shadybanana

      i honeselty thought the same thing

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      Rating: +1 (from 3 votes)
      • Freezerburn

        Me too

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        Rating: -1 (from 1 vote)
  • Erin

    Good idea, but you could see from the beginning that he was the doctor. It’s been done before. Maybe I’ve just been reading too much of this stuff lately, but the author could have concealed it a bit better.

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    Rating: -1 (from 1 vote)
  • shadybanana

    plz tell me im not the only person who thought this was a doctor who creepypasta from reading the title or am i that much of a nerd

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    Rating: 0 (from 2 votes)
  • The doctor

    Hello, I’m the doctor. Now allons-y! Oh this is fantastic! Geranimooooooo!!! Said the doctor. Wait. Doctor who?

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    Rating: -1 (from 3 votes)
  • Faith

    I like this insane pasta. It is rather good, and I liked that I could figure it out. Very good job 7/10

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    Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
  • Raven

    I agree a lot with Sepia’s analysis; I just want to throw out a weird idea playing in my mind.
    Mental illness is a really significant interest to me since I am myself recovering from depression/anxiety/Bipolar II [luckily I'm not batshit like our protagonist =)]. So for this reason I was distracted by wondering why the protagonist’s “doctor” wants him dead? That means that on some level he himself wants to die. Why is that? Not that you need a psychological backstory on him and how he lost his marbles; that runs the risk of becoming less horror story and more Criminal Minds episode (which is the best show ever, btw). I just thought that what if the protagonist’s dissociative personality disorder (or whatever flavor of madness he has) is of supernatural origin? *Twilight Zone music* Perhaps a malevolent monster tortures his victims by making them willingly kill themselves, or maybe a demon possessed him, twisting his mind? I LOVE pure psychological horror stories, especially because they are some of the most real, plausible tales, but why not sprinkle some more sinister on? If you’re up to it and you approve of the idea, I smell a very delicious prequel/sequel in the future. It would be really cool to see more of your writing; I like your style and creativity.

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    Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
  • ThePsycoBehindYou

    Saw the title and automatically thought of The Doctor from doctor who

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    Rating: -1 (from 1 vote)
  • Andrew Wiggin

    And every time that the doctor visited him je walked out of a little blue wooden phone box

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    Rating: -1 (from 1 vote)
  • IT

    I should I be worried if those are what my doctor has been prescribing me? Cause I swear to god he’s real!

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    Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)

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