Scary Paranormal Stories & Short Horror Microfiction

Creepypasta

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It was night and two guys in classic car traveled down a lonely stretch of I-95 in Pennsylvania. The one in the passenger seat had a pensive look about him. The driver reached down to fiddle with the radio. They slowly pulled ahead of me. Squinting through the darkness and the bug-dotted windshield of my eight year old Isuzu I observed a blue bumper sticker with the words in white “Hilary ‘08” on it. “God damn it. I hate those guys.”

Gabe looked at me inquiringly, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “You mean guys who look like they’ve been pulled out of some teen drama on basic cable?”

“Huh? No. Guys who leave bumper stickers up from previous elections. For fuck’s sake Hilary didn’t even win the primary.”

“Where are we anyway?” Gabe stretched out until his hands touched the car roof. Admittedly that wasn’t that much of a stretch, he was one of those shaggy looking wiry fellows.

“Just out of Jersey. You think you can help me stay awake? The Blush Twins back there aren’t much of a help.” My sister Prissy and her friend Claire were passed out in the back seat. When they drank more then they were used they had the tendency to turn as red as tomatoes. That limit was two glasses of red wine.

Gabe mumbled something that sounded like “alcohol camels” and responded, “Yea sure. There’s not much to talk about though, Jack.”

“Well it’s night and Halloween is a day away. You ever seen anything that could be considered paranormal?” That was always a good topic if two people need to stay awake through the night. I did not even need to worry about a “no.” Even the most logical human being has had that one weird experience, whether it was a bad trip or one of those waking nightmares experienced during sleep paralysis.

“Well, uh, no. But I swear to God, Jack, this one time when I was five I remember flying. This isn’t paranormal, but I had this one reoccurring nightmare back before my father left. Haven’t had it recently, but I remember it pretty clearly.

“I was about eleven and remember lying in bed listening to a shouting match in the living room. My bed room was on the second floor, so I couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying except for the occasional ‘Fuck you.’

“Then I dunno, time passed, I fell asleep. The hall lights were out and screaming stopped. The doorway to my room was half open. Next thing I know I can’t move, not even blink. But I could see things moving on the walls, man. It was trippy.” Gabe was rubbing that scraggly blond thing on his neck he called a beard as he told his story.

“Don’t stop there. What kind of things?” I said.

“Shadows, man, shadows. But not like those stories on the internet. They had hair, like people hair. They were flat to the wall except for the hair. It was like the hair was three dimensional and the rest of them was two dimensional. They had different color hair too. I mean black and brown, normal people colors, but some of them weren’t people shapes. They did have people hair though, they all did. I could hear—

“I could hear them say, ‘Carry on my waywar—” The radio turned on without warning. Prissy had left the damn thing on at max volume, the girls in the back stirred with a bunch thrashing thumps.

I shut the radio off. “Sorry about that, my elbow must of hit the dial.”

Gabe gave me a weird look before he went on. “I was saying I could hear whispering and feel tingling on my toes. It felt like when a dog licks your toes. That’s when I saw it, the big it, or her, I really don’t know. All I know is that thing was boss and all the rest of them were bitches, ‘cause they all scattered off to the corners. She had really red hair, Christmas present red, and curly too. Its thin shadow was stretching out from behind my bedroom door.

“I didn’t hear her voice, dude, I felt it. Not like telepathy, like felt it reverberate in my skull. Almost as if it were that loud nagging voice in your head when you’ve done something real bad. She said, the voice in me said, ‘Dear—

“John on DVD this Friday at Wal-Mart.” Blared the radio again.

I shut it off again. “I guess I should get that looked at, sorry. Go on.”

Gabe went on, “It said, ‘Dear soul, you have grown so much. Why you’re so pink and cute, how’d like to come home with me? I could just dress you up with gravy. Look at those crinkles on your forehead you look just like a juicy jelly donut. The powdery dough is always the best part of a fresh baked donut.’

“I didn’t see a hand, but it felt like she pinch my cheek. Then the licking would not stop!” Gabe pounded the “would”, “not”, and “stop” out on the passenger side of the dash board.

If I had not been focusing on the road ahead of me Gabe would of seen the wide eyed bewildered look in my eyes. It was not over the dream, I have had weirder. The bewilderment extended from the clearly unresolved issue that were clearly bubbling beneath Gabe’s Chewbacca-like surface. “It was just a dream, Gabe. I’m sorry I asked. Relax, I‘ll drive the rest of the night. One of the girls can take over in the morning.”

The night after our chat in the car we spent the night in some shit motel in northern Georgia. In the morning we found Gabe feet up in a garbage bin behind the Waffle House next door.

//
Credited to Tower.

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The Lady Behind The Door, 3.9 out of 10 based on 264 ratings
  • Nonny Miss

    “Someone else”, I also noticed the shift from third person to first person. It bugged me even more than the bizarre ending.

    After reading a comment pointing out the ‘Supernatural’ references (it was just the “carry on my wayward son” lyrics that gave me SPN tingles) I gotta say… I’m even more disappointed. Reminding me of a network show that is scarier and more interesting doesn’t help this story. Like at all. And I’m glad there are no Waffle Houses in my general area. (IHOP all the way!)7

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  • Darsh

    >my elbow must of hit the dial
    >must of

    Stopped reading there.

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  • Kryptography

    Rodina: thanks for linking to the other chapter – too bad it’s also terrible.

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  • Matt

    Let me channel my inner-Simon-from-American-Idol: “That was the most stupid thing I’ve ever seen…”
    1/10. Not even sure it deserves THAT much.

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  • GK

    Wait, wait, I think I got it. They’re on a cheap road trip, so probably getting a bit smelly by this point, right? And the music keeps coming on randomly?

    No soap, radio!

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  • Strannyi

    You did a good job with the characters. I felt like Gabe and Jack were real people and not just fancy words. The descriptions were pretty okay, too. Really the only things that sucked were the grammar mistakes and the stupid ass ending. As a story it’s aight, but as a creepypasta it’s not very good.

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  • http://www.lady-blackdove.deviantart.com Kyttler

    Don’t you get it? It’s Wendy from Wendy’s Waffle House

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  • Tunder

    (Sarcasm) Hey, obviously the radio in the car was from his father’s car, and in both cases said radio picked gabe up and put him in a dumpster. No explaination for the dog though…

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  • Tunder

    (Sarcasm) Hey, obviously the radio in the car was from his father’s car, and in both cases said radio picked gabe up and put him in a dumpster. No explaination for the dog though…

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  • TROLOLOLOL

    If this was a parodypasta, if fucking sucked. If this was a creepypasta, it fucking sucked.

    In all, this story fucking sucked.

    The end.

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  • http://creepypasta KK

    @ Undefined: The ending fit. It was that lady behind the door ate him, just like he was explaining in the “dream” I guess either it had continued to happen, and he just lied, or talking about it brought her back, and she was like “oh your so yummy nomnomnomnom”

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  • Anonymous

    Wow…
    RIP Gabe Newell.

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  • snuzzled

    Hey guys, the first sentence makes perfect sense. There are no dropped words. The “in a classic car” is just there for description.

    “The apple on the table is red.”

    “One cat in the house yawned sleepily.”

    “Two guys in a classic car traveled down the road.”

    All sentences are perfectly correct and complete. Sheesh. English 101 here.

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  • Milford Cubicle

    ITTY BITTY BABY
    ITTY BITTY BOAT
    I DON’T BELIEVE IT
    HABEEB IT
    WAFFLE HOUSE

    That pretty much sums up this horrible pasta.

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  • Maddy

    This reminded me too much of Supernatural to take seriously. With the “Two guys in a classic car travelled down the road” and the “Carry On My Wayward Son” coming on the radio.

    Lame pasta is lame. 3/10.

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  • Mreee

    Fucking terrible. Either Gabe died or got fucking trashed and decided to crawl INTO the trash – who knows? It doesn’t even mean it has anything to do with his stupid ass dream. I don’t even know what Gabe’s “CLEARLY unresolved issue” was supposed to be.

    Also, writer needs to learn the difference between “of” and “have.”

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  • Icalasari

    Gabe sounded like Shaggy in my head

    As such, my theory:

    They left the Scooby Proxy at home. He tracked them down, pissed that Shaggy Proxy ate the last of the pot brownies. He then found Shaggy Proxy and murdered him

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  • DarlingNina

    It just kind of ended. Wtf. This pasta was a let down. :(

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  • Nezumi

    @Snuzzled: Read again. It doesn’t say “two guys in a classic car.” It says “two guys in classic car”, which is not correct. It’s the sort of thing you get from someone who’s speaking English as a second language, when their first language doesn’t include articles like “a”, “an”, or “the.”

    @Everyone: For everyone hoping reading the sequel someone linked will make it better… don’t bother. I only skimmed it, but that was all I needed to tell that the two stories don’t read like a continuous narrative. They read like entirely separate stories clumsily rammed together by claiming they involve the same characters. The tone, style, and metaphysics are entirely different, and the two accounts of the events that Gabe was talking about are so different that it’s impossible to imagine them coming from the same person, as is claimed.

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  • MaraquanWocky

    “I could hear them say, ‘Carry on my waywar—”
    That line alone made me love this pasta.
    Guys, it’s probably a parodypasta. It’s a parody of the pastas that have so many loose strings, it’s hard to even know wtf just happened.

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  • The Wetter I Am

    Um, what?

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  • squorn

    In addition to everything else, there aren\’t really any lonely stretches of I-95 in PA. The only point at which 95 crosses into PA is around the suburbs of Philly.

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  • headcrabzombiegirl

    can I just give props to the one commenter who made a full-life consequences reference? because that was the best thing on the page.

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  • http://dirjel.deviantart.com Dirjel

    Weak.

    Building a strong story is like building anything else. You don’t just dump your bucket of Legos on the ground and start stacking pieces.

    Also, it helps if your “Legos” are functional. The grammar in this pasta is like those cheap off-brand bricks that just fall apart when you try and build anything.

    Legos > this pasta

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  • http://constantlyignored.blogspot.com Eljacko

    The ending was much like a brick to the head. It was depressing, hurtful, unwelcome, and it came out of nowhere.

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