Scary Paranormal Stories & Short Horror Microfiction

Creepypasta

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If you haven’t read my previous posts, please read stories onetwo and three.

Hey guys, after many PMs asking for an update, I decided to bring you up to speed on whats going on. But first, here is the screenshot of the desktop picture that Rose/her cult put on my laptop. I haven’t been able to find the original photo or any kind of a hidden file. Woman on the left is my mother holding me, and woman on the right is her friend holding my childhood friend. We do not know who the child on the left or woman way in the back are. None of them remember this picture ever being taken.

Desktop Screenshot

So after I told my mom what was going on, she talked to y grandma. Grandma didn’t tell her much but my mom had a feeling that she got upset after hearing what was happening. I decided to call my grandma and after much begging, I got this story out of her.

My grandma was born in Croatia but grew up in Bosnia. She was the kind of a child who’d spend every waking our outside playing, exploring, etc. Her favorite play spot was down by the river not too far from where she lived. She’d often go there with her friends, but on this particular day, none of her friends came along. She went there anyways. She was doing her traditional build-a-fortress-in-the-sand thing, when she heard someone calling. She looked to the road nearby (the only place where anyone could come from, there was only one path to the beach) but nobody was there. She shrugged it off and kept playing. She heard the call again. “Dana.” She looked around. Nothing. “DANA!” She jumped, terrified, and ran to the road to see what in the fuck was going on, but nobody was there. She thought one of her friends was fucking with her and decided to turn around and go back to the fortress. Then she saw him. It was a man, of above average height, maybe 6’4”, dressed in the suit and one of those hats that gentlemen wore in thirties. He had a dark, dark black suit on with white dress shirt underneath and a black tie. Holding a cane. Thing is, he was standing in the water knee deep. In a suit that probably cost arm and a leg at that time. She was taken aback, but as any curious kid, she decided to check what was going on. She walked up to the border where waves were ending. He was still standing in the water. “Yes, mister?” she asked politely.

“I got something for you.”

“Yea? What’s that?”

Well, as predictable as the story may be getting, it is unfortunately fucking true. It was an orange. My grandma grew up in wealthy-ish family and even in the tough economic times, she had an abundance of fruit, so the orange wasn’t causing a “wow” factor in her.

“Uh… Thanks mister, but I just had lunch. You can give it to someone else.”

“No, no Dana, this one is specially for you.” He tilted his head to the side and for a second she thought his hat would fall into the river. It didn’t. He still held an orange in his other hand, offering it.

“But I don’t want it.”

“You take it, and you take it now.” My grandma’s been through a lot of shit. World war II and Bosnian war. She’s seen shit man. But she said she’s never seen something as scary as that man’s face that day. She was a child and therefore very impressionable with vivid imagination, but she swears that when he said that, his eyes (the white part not the pupils) got much darker and she could see the anger on his face, although he had somewhat of a grin on.

She started running away. She stopped and turned around to look if he was chasing her. He was just standing there, looking after her. She said she could see the darkness going away from his eyes. He put the orange back into his pocket, turned to the side, and started walking away. Through the fucking river. Like step by step, with his cane, just walking like he was on the street.

My grandma was scared for a while, but after few years, he was just a memory that was rarely recalled.

My grandma gave birth to my mom in ’52. It was a happy day because my mom was her first child. Birth went fairly easily, but she was kept in the hospital for few days. Last night before she was released, the man in the black suit came back. Almost 20 years later. She was sleeping (she had a room to herself). She woke up because light came on in her room. In scary movies, you hear the noise but there is nobody there, then suddenly they jump you from behind. Yea, that didn’t happen. She opened her eyes, and he was just standing there in the middle of the room. The same man, same suit, same hat. Not a day older than how he looked 20 years ago.

Orange in his hand.

“You did good.”

“What…what do you want from me?”

“You brought her.”

“Who? What do you want?”

“You only now have to take this, and it will all be over.” He was showing an orange, smiling. It wasn’t a crazy grin, just an almost friendly smile.

“I don’t want anything from you. Leave or I’ll scream.”

Well, that’s when he pulled the Rose shit. He tilted his head to the side, put the scariest grin on his face revealing the whitest teeth you’ll ever see. He started speaking in the voice of a 10-12 year old child.

“But Dana, you don’t know.”

“GET OUT!”

“He will take it.” As he said that with his child voice, he lost the grin, put his head back in normal position, turned around and walked away. Before he got out of the room, he turned the light off. She never told anyone about this man until I pulled it out of her.

It’s been little more than 30 years since then until she saw him one last time. It was war in Bosnia. Country demolished by politician assholes who just wanted money. You know how wars work. Anyways, times were tough. Food supply was extremely limited. My grandma and grandpa would go days without eating. They’d hunt pigeons on the balcony and shit. That bad. But then, an orange started appearing on their doorstep every day. One orange, in the center of the welcome rug. She remembers how bright it was compared to the grayness surrounding them. She’d throw every single one of those fuckers out. My grandpa was confused as to why she’d throw away perfectly good food in times like these, but she wouldn’t tell him. Until they showed up. Yes, they. The man in black and…well, Rose. It was ’93. They were bombing the shit out of their town that day and nobody would even so much as stick their head through the window, let alone walk out. But my grandparents heard knocking. They thought someone had finally come to take care of them. Knowing that intruder would enter anyways if they really wanted to, they opened. On their left, the same man was standing. Same black suit, same hat, same cane. Same age. More than 50 years later. Next to him was a woman in red shoes, white dress, long black hair, extremely pale skin color, and a lipstick so bright it would make you nostalgic for the grayness of wartime. She had her head tilted too, smiling ear to ear.

“Hello Dana.” She spoke in a voice my grandma says could only belong to a very, very young girl.

“What the fuck is this?” My grandpa asked. Immediately, both of these people’s (I still call them people) faces lost grins and looked at my grandpa.

“You may want to be silent.” Rose spoke in her original, adult voice (or what my grandma assumes would be her natural voice.)

My grandpa had been shot at, tortured, starved, but he never felt the fear like that. He lost his voice and shut the hell up.

Their grins returned, head tilted, teeth popped out shiny as ever.

“Where is he?” Rose asked her in her childish version of a voice.

“Who? What do you want from us? We have nothing!”

“Don’t do this. Just tell us where.” Seemed like Rose was losing patience.

“But who?”

“Your grandson.” Her eyes pierced my grandma’s soul. She felt blood freeze in her veins.

“He…he is not here. He is in Montenegro.” She though that whoever these people are, they’d give up once they found that her grandson (presumably me) has moved away hundreds of miles away.

They produced even wider smiles, if that was actually possible. They turned around almost synchronized, and walked away. My grandparent watched them leave over the balcony. Bullets were flying around, bombs falling everywhere, and they were just walking down the street with no fucks given. Heads still tilted. They could see them smiling.

So, I’ll be the first to call it. Bullshit. Bullshit bullshit bullshit. This is becoming a fairy tale. This ain’t happening man. Yea. I’m with you. Had I read it here or anywhere else, I’d enjoy the story then tell OP to go fuck himself for trying to convince me this shit is real.

But, this shit is real.

I have no logical explanation for it. Are they a cult? Maybe. Why don’t they age? Why are they everywhere? Why are they following everyone I know? Fuck me if I know.

 

Credit To – Milos Bogetic

NOTE: This is the fourth in a series of several popular Reddit posts documenting some seriously creepy experiences. We are publishing them here with express permission of Milos Bogetic aka inaaace, the original poster. The story is in multiple parts, and will be published completely over the next few days – much like what I did with the ‘Bedtime’ series earlier this year. After the stories have all gone up, I’ll edit each post with links to the other parts.

The OP has finished the book that he promised during his successful kickstarter project.

You can find the paperback and Kindle e-book versions here: The Story of Her Holding an Orange by Milos Bogetic  – full disclosure: our referral link is included.

I know that this will not be new material for all of you, but for those of you who – like myself – don’t use Reddit, I wanted to post it so that you guys could enjoy it as much as I did after having it brought to my attention. Thanks again to Milos for letting me post it, and enjoy!

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Rating: 8.7/10 (435 votes cast)
The Story of Her Holding an Orange: Part Four, 8.7 out of 10 based on 435 ratings
  • THEN WHO WAS….nevermind o.O

    Ok this is excellent as well! But will there be a 5th part? A conclusion? Id like to know more about this strangeness. would like some hardcore info on these folk!! Again wonderful story!

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    Rating: +11 (from 19 votes)
    • Anonymous

      This is the best thing I could think of but maybe Rose and the guy that both gave u the orange are your parents

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      Rating: -5 (from 7 votes)
      • Anonymous

        How the fuck could they be his parents if they were the same age they are now when he’s grandmother was a little girl?

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        Rating: +11 (from 11 votes)
      • Anonymous

        His mum was sat next to rose in part 1

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        Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)
    • some dude

      maybe rose and the other guy is some sort of a protector or shit.

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      Rating: +1 (from 3 votes)
    • Anonymous

      It’s not a story it’s real

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      Rating: 0 (from 4 votes)
  • Reader

    I enjoyed it. Now go fuck yourself for trying to convince me that this shit is real.

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    Rating: +77 (from 101 votes)
    • CandleJack

      im with this guy.

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      Rating: 0 (from 2 votes)
  • blah

    I am beginning to wonder if maybe the family is cursed in some way but I am no expert just thinking

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    Rating: +10 (from 20 votes)
    • PAPUCHA

      That’s what I was thinking, too… But the man said “he will take it,” after the woman gave birth, and he wasn’t talking about the woman’s husband but about her not-yet-existent grandson. So, they were waiting for him and his girlfriend, and now they have to take the oranges.

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      Rating: +4 (from 6 votes)
    • http://gdfatfoa Squidward

      me to maybe you should talk to ur gf”s Grandparents or something

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      Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
  • MoneyPakyaw

    PERST!!

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    Rating: -16 (from 20 votes)
  • Fortevn

    So this does convince me into believing that my theory was wrong. This isn’t a cult, a cult however you may think, cannot possess the power of eternal youth like that.

    Let me say this straight: this is either a fake or a true story. But I’ll say this is true, don’t ask why, I believe.

    Now they don’t have a story like I presumed in my comment at your 3rd post, but rather a purpose. They want you, and they want your gf. Both of you are connected and required in an event that they’re currently concerning of.

    I don’t know what, and I don’t know when, but they’ve found you, and they won’t let you go. You can tell all of this to the police, the chances of them believe it is about 20%. But don’t scream, be calm and tell them that you don’t care if you believe it or not, you’re telling the truth and since they can’t help you will deal with it yourself. Tell them that if someday you disappear, take some stuffs to your family, like a will or something. That will make them move since you look like you’re ready to commit suicide and that’ll be their responsibility.

    If they think you’re crazy and take you into custody, good, at least you have some security. If they ignore, then, yes, deal with this yourself.

    This isn’t a fiction, so don’t think you’ll get some miracle to get you out. Nor should you think that they want to kill/harm you. Things go both way, perhaps they’re entities that’ll take you somewhere better, or really they will kill you.

    Prepare yourself, be calm and be together. That’s all I can offer. In case this is true.

    If this isn’t, well, you can make a good script for a movie.

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    Rating: +14 (from 24 votes)
    • Jake

      It IS fake. I looked it up on Reddit. After this particular series, the author started a different and unrelated one.

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      Rating: +9 (from 15 votes)
      • Hinoga

        Can you link back ? I’d like to check it out

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        Rating: +4 (from 6 votes)
  • http://crappypasta.com the cake

    im still against continuation pastas. u have people complaining about repetitive poetry, or specific character pastas, but u think its ok to post a continuation pasta about a creepy orange? it seems like a waste of space to me. so ya, its a story that received good reviews; i still believe this goes against what this web site has shown me so far: a random assortment of Good(ish) creepy stories by DIFFERENT artists about DIFFERENT things. with few to no continuation pastas. this isnt a story book site. its a short story site… its in the title

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    Rating: -6 (from 12 votes)
    • http://crappypasta.com the cake

      if ur going to continue posting this story, than at least post TWO stories a day so that i have something interesting to read, other than this annoying orange stuff.

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      Rating: -7 (from 11 votes)
      • http://www.creepypasta.com derpbutt

        Other stories will begin again on the 7th. Feel free to take a break until then. Have some cake.

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        Rating: +7 (from 13 votes)
  • Gabriela

    But why an orange???

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    Rating: -1 (from 7 votes)
  • Purple Frog

    Rose reminds me of Yukari Yakumo :P

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    Rating: -2 (from 2 votes)
    • Fortevn

      Not close.
      Yukari is a sukima, which theorically a girl who’s died in an accident relating to collapsing building/terrain. The girl was trapped between the stones/bricks/whatever so she could only see things through a gap, a hole that was between. Nobody heard her, she died in fear, hunger, thirst and thus became a ghost who wanders in such gaps.

      I think you take the creepiness and ability to move around into consideration, but unfortunately Rose broke in the house by unlocking the door.

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  • OBA

    The only thing that can make this story creepy is if it’s actually real – but it’s not. Sooo. Yeah.

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    Rating: +1 (from 5 votes)
  • THE DAY OF ALL THE ORANGES

    :O

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    Rating: 0 (from 4 votes)
  • Sir Underhill

    They’re probably going to post a few more parts and when it starts to get really good….
    They’ll stop and tell us to buy the book -_-

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    Rating: +6 (from 8 votes)
  • The Banker

    Sorry, but you know the internets rule. Pics or it didn’t happen. And I don’t mean pics of a rotten orange. Again, I find the story to be pretty bland and uneventful, but I’m sure the next part will pick up.

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    Rating: -2 (from 6 votes)
  • Um…

    Milos? You said your family could get in your house right? What if it’s just a prank set up by them? I refuse to believe in the supernatural side of the story, but i mean logically here’s how things could have went…

    As a child, your parents remember you having a nightmare about a woman with an orange. Since it was when you were a child, you don’t remember that it wasn’t real.

    Now, as an adult, your mother decides that she wants to scare you. She remembers the nightmare and decides to bring it back. You think the face is the exact same as your dream because it was so long ago, the details are hazy.

    She uses a key to get into your house and place the orange. Before you called your grandma, she called and gave a heads up to her and told her to make up a story about the woman. Also, she might have called the local police to inform them of the prank so they don’t get involved, which would explain their lack of involvement.

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    Rating: -6 (from 10 votes)
  • Anonymousa

    Guys, this came from reddit /nosleep/
    Even if this is true or not, the story must sound real and convincing.
    Every author in reddit /nosleep/ should tell his story campfire style.
    No rebutting, no questioning authenticity and no critiquing of writing style.
    And the author should not comment “out of character” also.
    Meaning, everyone should “ride” into the story.
    But since we are in creepypasta, just say if you like the story or not. =)

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    Rating: +2 (from 4 votes)
  • http://creepypasta.com Dantaine

    I’m not going to say that it is real or fake but on a chance that it is real, perhaps you could, the next time you see her, keep a camera around and snap a picture of that creepy grin for us to really see what your up against. The creepiness of your parts and the grinning couple is absolutely fantastic. I love the way that it’s written but again, I don’t want to say if it really is real or fake because I just don’t really know. I have seen some scary, paranormal stuff in my short life time but in my opinion, this could be real and I would like to study this orange giving creeper.

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    Rating: +1 (from 5 votes)
  • alex

    I feel like the incessant cussing in your blog really ruins this for me…

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    Rating: +1 (from 9 votes)
  • Rose

    I agree, most definetly, too much cussing!

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    Rating: 0 (from 6 votes)
  • Rose

    Take the orange

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    Rating: +3 (from 9 votes)
  • Rose

    Take it

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    Rating: +1 (from 7 votes)
    • Rose

      Take it

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      Rating: +1 (from 7 votes)
    • Rose come here

      Rose I got nothin better to do you can stalk me

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      Rating: +1 (from 5 votes)
      • Rose

        Okay

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        Rating: -1 (from 3 votes)
  • http://none blank

    you see he is telling the truth…..this has happend to me

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    Rating: -4 (from 4 votes)
  • http://none blank

    last week…..was the last time since 2000 that i saw a orange sitting on a table when im home alone maybe were related

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    Rating: -3 (from 3 votes)
  • Nahte27

    For some reason, when reading these stories all I can think about is this one song by Solar Fields. He does strictly instrumental music EXCEPT for a single song called Magic Eye.

    MAGIC EYE LYRICS

    I woke up and had this strange organic object in my hand (organic object in my hand..)
    I’ve never seen anything quite like this before (before, before.. )
    It opened its eye
    And looked at me and said
    How about an orange? (How about an orange? [2x])

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    Rating: +3 (from 5 votes)
    • Len Kagamine

      huh… reminds me of the vocaloid song rotten girl grotesque romance

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  • http://www.griffenfarley@gmail.com Griffey

    This may seem insane but I would advise taking the orange, some would say it’s better to get it over with than living in fear. They seem quite relentless if they’ve been around this long pressuring you and your relatives with fruit. Whether they’re malevont entities of some sort or crazy cultists or some other I’m betting you should take your chances.

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    Rating: +1 (from 7 votes)
  • Oskar

    Take the orange. and burn it. cleanse the curse in the fire.

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    Rating: 0 (from 4 votes)
  • scared shitless

    I started reading your stories like 20 minutes ago. This is seriously got my attention. Im seriously buying the book when it comes out.

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    Rating: +2 (from 4 votes)

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