Scary Paranormal Stories & Short Horror Microfiction

Creepypasta

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Last year I spent six months participating in what I was told was a psychological experiment. I found an ad in my local paper looking for imaginative people looking to make good money, and since it was the only ad that week that I was remotely qualified for, I gave them a call and we arranged an interview.
They told me that all I would have to do is stay in a room, alone, with sensors attached to my head to read my brain activity, and while I was there I would visualize a double of myself. They called it my “tulpa”.

It seemed easy enough, and I agreed to do it as soon as they told me how much I would be paid. And the next day, I began. They brought me to a simple room and gave me a bed, then attached sensors to my head and hooked them into a little black box on the table beside me. They talked me through the process of visualizing my double again, and explained that if I got bored or restless, instead of moving around, I should visualize my double moving around, or try to interact with him, and so on. The idea was to keep him with me the entire time I was in the room.

I had trouble with it for the first few days. It was more controlled than any sort of daydreaming I’d done before. I’d imagine my double for a few minutes, then grow distracted. But by the fourth day, I could manage to keep him “present” for the entire six hours. They told me I was doing very well.

The second week, they gave me a different room, with wall-mounted speakers. They told me they wanted to see if I could still keep the tulpa with me in spite of distracting stimuli. The music was discordant, ugly and unsettling, and it made the process a little more difficult, but I managed nonetheless. The next week they played even more unsettling music, punctuated with shrieks, feedback loops, what sounded like an old school modem dialing up, and guttural voices speaking some foreign language. I just laughed it off – I was a pro by then.

After about a month, I started to get bored. To liven things up, I started interacting with my doppelganger. We’d have conversations, or play rock-paper-scissors, or I’d imagine him juggling, or break-dancing, or whatever caught my fancy. I asked the researchers if my foolishness would adversely affect their study, but they encouraged me.

So we played, and communicated, and that was fun for a while. And then it got a little strange. I was telling him about my first date one day, and he corrected me. I’d said my date was wearing a yellow top, and he told me it was a green one. I thought about it for a second, and realized he was right. It creeped me out, and after my shift that day, I talked to the researchers about it. “You’re using the thought-form to access your subconscious,” they explained. “You knew on some level that you were wrong, and you subconsciously corrected yourself.”

What had been creepy was suddenly cool. I was talking to my subconscious! It took some practice, but I found that I could question my tulpa and access all sorts of memories. I could make it quote whole pages of books I’d read once, years before, or things I was taught and immediately forgot in high school. It was awesome.

That was around the time I started “calling up” my double outside of the research center. Not often at first, but I was so used to imagining him by now that it almost seemed odd to not see him. So whenever I was bored, I’d visualize my double. Eventually I started doing it almost all the time. It was amusing to take him along like an invisible friend. I imagined him when I was hanging out with friends, or visiting my mom, I even brought him along on a date once. I didn’t need to speak aloud to him, so I was able to carry out conversations with him and no one was the wiser.

I know that sounds strange, but it was fun. Not only was he a walking repository of everything I knew and everything I had forgotten, he also seemed more in touch with me than I did at times. He had an uncanny grasp of the minutiae of body language that I didn’t even realize I was picking up on. For example, I’d thought the date I brought him along on was going badly, but he pointed out how she was laughing a little too hard at my jokes, and leaning towards me as I spoke, and a bunch of other subtle clues I wasn’t consciously picking up on. I listened, and let’s just say that that date went very well.

By the time I’d been at the research center for four months, he was with my constantly. The researchers approached me one day after my shift, and asked me if I’d stopped visualizing him. I denied it, and they seemed pleased. I silently asked my double if he knew what prompted that, but he just shrugged it off. So did I.

I withdrew a little from the world at that point. I was having trouble relating to people. It seemed to me that they were so confused and unsure of themselves, while I had a manifestation of myself to confer with. It made socializing awkward. Nobody else seemed aware of the reasons behind their actions, why some things made them mad and others made them laugh. They didn’t know what moved them. But I did – or at least, I could ask myself and get an answer.

A friend confronted me one evening. He pounded at the door until I answered it, and came in fuming and swearing up a storm. “You haven’t answered when I called you in fucking weeks, you dick!” He yelled. “What’s your fucking problem?”.

I was about to apologize to him, and probably would have offered to hit the bars with him that night, but my tulpa grew suddenly furious. “Hit him,” it said, and before I knew what I was doing, I had. I heard his nose break. He fell to the floor and came up swinging, and we beat each other up and down my apartment.

I was more furious then than I have ever been, and I was not merciful. I knocked him to the ground and gave him two savage kicks to the ribs, and that was when he fled, hunched over and sobbing.

The police were by a few minutes later, but I told them that he had been the instigator, and since he wasn’t around to refute me, they let me off with a warning. My tulpa was grinning the entire time. We spent the night crowing about my victory and sneering over how badly I’d beaten my friend.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when I was checking out my black eye and cut lip in the mirror, that I remembered what had set me off. My double was the one who’d grown furious, not me. I’d been feeling guilty and a little ashamed, but he’d goaded me into a vicious fight with a concerned friend. He was present, of course, and knew my thoughts. “You don’t need him anymore. You don’t need anyone else,” he told me, and I felt my skin crawl.

I explained all this to the researchers who employed me, but they just laughed it off. “You can’t be scared of something that you’re imagining,” one told me. My double stood beside him, and nodded his head, then smirked at me.

I tried to take their words to heart, but over the next few days I found myself growing more and more anxious around my tulpa, and it seemed that he was changing. He looked taller, and more menacing. His eyes twinkled with mischief, and I saw malice in his constant smile. No job was worth losing my mind over, I decided. If he was out of control, I’d put him down. I was so used to him at that point that visualizing him was an automatic process, so I started trying my damnedest to not visualize him. It took a few days, but it started to work somewhat. I could get rid of him for hours at a time. But every time he came back, he seemed worse. His skin seemed ashen, his teeth more pointed. He hissed and gibbered and threatened and swore. The discordant music I’d been listening to for months seemed to accompany him everywhere. Even when I was at home – I’d relax and slip up, no longer concentrating on not seeing him, and there he’d be, and that howling noise with him.

I was still visiting the research center and spending my six hours there. I needed the money, and I thought they weren’t aware that I was now actively not visualizing my tulpa. I was wrong. After my shift one day, about five and a half months in, two impressively men grabbed and restrained me, and someone in a lab coat jabbed a hypodermic needle into me.

I woke up from my stupor back in the room, strapped into the bed, music blaring, with my doppelganger standing over me cackling. He hardly looked human anymore. His features were twisted. His eyes were sunken in their sockets and filmed over like a corpse’s. He was much taller than me, but hunched over. His hands were twisted, and the fingernails were like talons. He was, in short, fucking terrifying. I tried to will him away, but I just couldn’t seem to concentrate. He giggled, and tapped the IV in my arm. I thrashed in my restraints as best I could, but could hardly move at all.

“They’re pumping you full of the good shit, I think. How’s the mind? All fuzzy?” He leaned closer and closer as he spoke. I gagged; his breath smelt like spoiled meat. I tried to focus, but couldn’t banish him.

The next few weeks were terrible. Every so often, someone in a doctor’s coat would come in and inject me with something, or force-feed me a pill. They kept me dizzy and unfocused, and sometimes left me hallucinating or delusional. My thoughtform was still present, constantly mocking. He interacted with, or perhaps caused, my delusions. I hallucinated that my mother was there, scolding me, and then he cut her throat and her blood showered me. It was so real that I could taste it.

The doctors never spoke to me. I begged at times, screamed, hurled invectives, demanded answers. They never spoke to me. They may have talked to my tulpa, my personal monster. I’m not sure. I was so doped and confused that it may have just been more delusion, but I remember them talking with him. I grew convinced that he was the real one, and I was the thoughtform. He encouraged that line of thought at times, mocked me at others.

Another thing that I pray was a delusion: he could touch me. More than that, he could hurt me. He’d poke and prod at me if he felt I wasn’t paying enough attention to him. Once he grabbed my testicles and squeezed until I told him I loved him. Another time, he slashed my forearm with one of his talons. I still have a scar – most days I can convince myself that I injured myself, and just hallucinated that he was responsible. Most days.

Then one day, while he was telling me a story about how he was going to gut everyone I loved, starting with my sister, he paused. A querulous look crossed his face, and reached out and touched my head. Like my mother used to when I was feverish. He stayed still for a long moment, and then smiled. “All thoughts are creative,” he told me. Then he walked out the door.

Three hours later, I was given an injection, and passed out. I awoke unrestrained. Shaking, I made my way to the door and found it unlocked. I walked out into the empty hallway, and then ran. I stumbled more than once, but I made it down the stairs and out into the lot behind the building. There, I collapsed, weeping like a child. I knew I had to keep moving, but I couldn’t manage it.

I got home eventually – I don’t remember how. I locked the door, and shoved a dresser against it, took a long shower, and slept for a day and a half. Nobody came for me in the night, and nobody came the next day, or the one after that. It was over. I’d spent a week locked in that room, but it had felt like a century. I’d withdrawn so much from my life beforehand that nobody had even known I was missing.

The police didn’t find anything. The research center was empty when they searched it. The paper trail fell apart. The names I’d given them were aliases. Even the money I’d received was apparently untraceable.

I recovered as much as one can. I don’t leave the house much, and I have panic attacks when I do. I cry a lot. I don’t sleep much, and my nightmares are terrible. It’s over, I tell myself. I survived. I use the concentration those bastards taught me to convince myself. It works, sometimes.

Not today, though. Three days ago, I got a phone call from my mother. There’s been a tragedy. My sister’s the latest victim in a spree of killings, the police say. The perpetrator mugs his victims, then guts them.

The funeral was this afternoon. It was as lovely a service as a funeral can be, I suppose. I was a little distracted, though. All I could hear was music coming from somewhere distant. Discordant, unsettling stuff, that sounds like feedback, and shrieking, and a modem dialing up. I hear it still – a little louder now.

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Tulpa, 9.2 out of 10 based on 1801 ratings
  • Anonymous

    lol sounds like slender man

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    • ThatOneKid

      Are you retarded?

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      • Respect My Authoritariah

        no point in being a douche to him, and to call him retarded is offensive to other people.

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        Rating: +14 (from 26 votes)
    • Anonymous

      A tulpa is a real thing. You can actually create one through a certain process, it is basically a thought given sentience. When someone with a very imaginative mind or a group of people get together that are very fearful of something, it is said that a physical tulpa is created that takes that form and can do what the entity they were scared of can do.

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      • H

        So it’s kind of like Stephen King’s “The Dark Half” then, huh?

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        • John Pugh

          No. Stephen King’s the dark half is about a mans twin, killed/absorbed at birth, who came back when the “real half” held a fake funeral for the “creative, fake half”. This was brought upon him by imagination/visualization.

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        • L

          John Pugh is wrong, as an avid Stephen King reader, “The Dark Half” is about an author owning up to his pen name and putting his pen name to rest. How do you write pure crap without thinking people would at least google…
          http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dark_Half

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        • Cattlegrazer

          Actually, L, if you read the wikipedia article you link to, it confirms that he is indeed correct…

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      • Anonymous

        There’s a pretty good description of how it works in “Paradox Lost”. They build up an entire fake world, a heaven. It says it works best in less inhabited places, because there aren’t people who aren’t imagining it. Most people don’t believe in it anyway, which would make it impossible. It helps explain religions and mythology, too, because once the people who believed in their gods died out the gods themselves disappeared also.

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      • ARTJEN

        Yeah you really can create these. I am the head of a paranormal group in St. Louis and actually just did a presentation that included thought forms. Really a creepy thing.

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        • John

          Hey I live in St Louis!!

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      • hhhhhh

        Now I’m afraid I’ll accidentally think about something scary so much it will become real. Shit.

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        • Fobabay

          Exactly what i was thinking!

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        • Sammy samsam

          lol me too

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      • Anonymous

        If tulpa is real, there’d be fairies and dragons and other crazy things some people believe in. Think about it.

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        • S

          Ah, but they are real… at least to a point.

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        • MrSandman

          No, there wouldn’t. I think you missed the point that if there is anyone nearby who DOES NOT believe in such things, they cannot take a physical form. Tulpas are born of pure and utter devotion and can only take a physical form if everyone around it indiscriminately believes it is there.

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        • Atessril

          I have seen a dragon once.

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        • RetardedWalrusNarhwal

          So theoretically, if i got some friends that have bigass imaginations and we thought long and hard about.. I don’t know, a soul eating demon, it would eventually take a shape and voila, we’ve made a soul eating demon? Shit.

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        • Anon Ymous

          Dude I’ve seen Slenderman in the woods behind the local elementary school, hightailed it back inside was so scared. No one was with me so they don’t believe me. After reading this I think he might be a Tulpa.

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        • hi

          do you think god is a tulpa

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        • http://www.mynblog.com/ Tanner

          Negative.

          This story is an exaggeration of an extensive human function. The brain allows for extensive manipulation of manifestation to a degree that is not physically but mentally apparent.

          Not to mention, empowering a replica of yourself which your inner subcon. knows better than anything or anyone is an entirely separate process than conjuring a fairy or a dragon with it’s own thought process or anatomical construction.

          Sorry, but your comment is a little flawed. Also — this story is basis for a mentally pictured image that isn’t really there. /smh Did you even read the story?

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      • Anonymous

        I have a Tulpa, her name me is Amy

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        • Anonymous

          nuts

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        • frisbeebiscuit

          i have one too. her name is juniper. one time in freshman year i drew her and the only way to explain her to somebody was to say she was an alter ego and now everyone thinks im insane

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        • Mida

          Nice

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        • deathless

          i have one his name is free (short for freelancer) he looks like me but with a big mouth filled with sharp teeth and he has red snake eyes. sadly though he doesnt speak because he has no vocal chords so all he does is growls. sometimes i find myself growling.

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        • Azie

          I have one named Azeir

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      • Ruby

        There’s an episode of Supernatural about them. They’re like demi-gods. But there has to be a certain symbol involved.

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      • Nekkitsukurou

        I know that your comment is old, but I truly hope that you see this… can you give me more details on how this can be done? Or, give me a source in which I can learn more about this subject?

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        • / Naveron

          Try Tulpa.Info

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      • Sparky

        So, it’s a little like Daemons from Phillip Pullman’s Golden Compass series? Except a tulpa is a person, and a daemon is an animal.

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      • Sybren117

        You cannot be serious…

        If you actually think Tulpas are real then… wow. Ever heard of this fella called science? He disagrees. These stories are awesome, I love a good creepypasta as much as the next guy, but don’t be stupid about it.

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        • Science.

          Actually, science strongly agrees. The mind is a powerful thing.

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      • Anonymous

        You Reminded me of a boggat

        Ridikulas!!!!!!!!

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        • Random dude who pops out of nowhere to reply to comments

          it’s a boggart, and the spell is riddikulus. wish i had a wand myself.

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    • thelaughingvamps

      dude just cause hes tall? he still has eyes, and isnt wearing a suit

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      • Anonymous

        Tis a troll mangs

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    • Slenderman

      Ooooh my Anon. Do not judge me.

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    • Oh God Why…

      Are you Fucking kidding me?

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    • Anonymous

      Well both are forms of psychosis.

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    • Anonymous

      But who was tulpa

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  • C

    Adding the ones from the old site? :) I’m sure many will recognize this one. I like it.

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    • http://www.creepypasta.com derpbutt

      Yeah. I’ve had a few people send this one to me telling me it’s a classic and they can’t believe the site didn’t have it up already, so…

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    • Anonymous

      I recall it from YouTube lol

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    • Electro

      Wait-what was the old website called?

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  • THEN WHO WAS….nevermind…

    Pretty cool story

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  • The Reader

    What’s up with the repost?

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    • http://www.creepypasta.com derpbutt

      As already was explained, it wasn’t on this site yet. Due to the nature of Creepypasta, this will sometimes occur. You will see things posted that may already have been circulated on another site before. Wow.

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      • Unnamed girl

        Sorry this is off topic, but derpbutt, what is that a pic of? Lol

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        • http://www.creepypasta.com derpbutt

          Not 100% sure on the location/backstory, but it’s part of some old, abandoned carnival ride or something. The image has been circulating the internet for awhile, but people seem to disagree on the actual source.

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        • Wolfen

          It’s a carnival ride near the ferris wheel in Pripyat/Chernobyl.

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        • http://www.creepypasta.com derpbutt

          That’s commonly repeated, but also commonly debunked.

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        • Dave Taylor

          I’m really glad you asked that, that has been driving me nuts ever since I found this website. No matter how hard I squinted, no answers would come.

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        • Canni

          Ive seen that ride somewhere on a show or youtube video years ago, i cant think of what it was :l

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    • AllieInWonderland

      Yeah I’m with The Reader, I’m 100% sure that they already had it on this site and reposted it.

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  • woop.

    yes! one of my favorites. thanks for posting it onto this site.

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  • http://youtube.com/humzahh2 Humzahh

    Oh my god, one of the best one’s I have read thus far.
    10/10 dude.

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    Rating: +10 (from 12 votes)
  • The Reader

    Screw you, derpbutt. Excuse me for thinking I had read it here before. We’re not all the wondrous perfection that you are, apparently.

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    Rating: -38 (from 60 votes)
    • http://www.creepypasta.com derpbutt

      I know, it’s not like it had already been discussed in the whopping couple of comments that you had to scroll past to leave your own.

      Didn’t know that reading comprehension was the pinnacle of perfection.

      Anyhow, my point remains (and I wasn’t even aggressive about it, so I’m not sure why you’re so pissy about my response…?): stuff that is posted here may not always be brand new for YOU, but it doesn’t mean that it’s not new for someone else. That is the nature of memes.

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      • Anonymous

        It’s new for me :)

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      • Unknown

        This is new for me too

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    • Fatt

      You just got polstered, bitch.

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      • sammyg

        ok, "fatt" knock it off! there’s no reason to be such a jerk. i don’t understand why everyone is so hostile towards each other on this site.

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        • Kenzie

          @sammyg, have you been on YouTube? Creepypasta arguments are nothing compared to YouTube! :D

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        • BloodstainS

          Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because they’re all scared shitless. Being scared makes people act irrationally and sometimes aggressively, and people are going to be scared after reading a scary story or ten.

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      • BoogeyMan

        Is "polstered" even a word, because I can’t find a definition for it anywhere. Just curious.

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        • Messer Lupo

          I thought maybe it had something to do with poltergeist? suddenly it’s a verb now and polstered is it’s past tense! I’m a genius!

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        • Calm Your Balls, Christians –_–

          It’s not a word. Sounds like it could be a real word, though, doesn’t it?

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        • Anonymous

          Don’t think about polstered too much, or it’ll become a real word and gut your dictionary.

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    • mikejr62

      Don’t take it personally, reader. I’m assuming derpbutt didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic, even if that’s how he sounds.

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  • f

    It seems like somethings missing from the ending maybe its just me

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  • Archstorm

    Oh my God. This is so great… I positively love it. It’s intriguing. I want more. Give me more of your awesome writing!

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    Rating: +9 (from 11 votes)
  • http://Creepypasta.com Nina Rose

    That was amazing! Tell me, how does one come up with such a creative scary story?

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    Rating: +5 (from 7 votes)
  • Josh Glover

    Worst pasta in a while. I could give my dog a keyboard and he would do better than this crap.
    Of course, that’s what I would say if I didn’t like it. This pasta is awesome and, now, one of my favorites.
    Bipolar comment is bipolar

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    Rating: +55 (from 73 votes)
    • D.I.P.

      Psst… that’s not what bipolar is. Just saying.

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      Rating: +26 (from 34 votes)
    • Suzanne

      Lol you had me going for a second. I was like WHAT THE F*** BRO? THIS PASTA IS AWESOME. Then I was like oh…

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      Rating: +17 (from 21 votes)
      • Swirly Head Man

        Same thing happened at an Italian restaurant I ate at not long ago.

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        Rating: +10 (from 18 votes)
      • Flayre

        omg i know right my finger was on the dislike button but then my brain was all like nooooo…

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        Rating: +3 (from 3 votes)
    • jack2892

      I was about to flame you like no TF2 Pyro could ever do, then I was like “Oh, I get it. Sarcasm. I like it.”

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      Rating: +3 (from 5 votes)
  • Haley

    I saw this on tumblr omg someone make this into a movie.

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    Rating: +15 (from 23 votes)
  • jon g

    How can I get a hold of the author? I am a filmmaker and would love to adapt this into a screenplay.

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    Rating: +31 (from 35 votes)
    • Anonymous

      there is already a horror film about tulpae

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      Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)
  • The Reader

    Your comment was actually incredibly snippy. I just don’t appreciate being ostracized for making an honest mistake. It is not like I was being willfully or repeatedly stupid, I asked a simple question. I felt your response was disrespectful. I’m sorry if you felt I was being "aggressive", but as was previously stated, I felt disrespected.

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    Rating: -22 (from 36 votes)
    • http://www.creepypasta.com derpbutt

      I… didn’t say you were being aggressive…?

      You may want to re-read this entire exchange. And if you still walk away thinking that I called you aggressive and was “ostracizing you” by taking the time to answer your question even though the answer was already there, there is absolutely nothing I can do for you.

      The way I answered was slightly sarcastic, yes, but quite frankly? You earned it. If you can’t deal with people answering your questions without ‘feeling disrespected,’ I would suggest simply paying more attention so that you don’t ask questions that have already been answered and that you in fact had to have scrolled right past in order to ask the exact same question. Respect can be lost when you do dumb things, and you did a dumb thing.

      And let’s be honest: The word “Wow” – because that is literally the only part of my initial response that can even remotely be considered ‘incredibly snippy’ by any sane person – is not worth the amount of whining you’ve been doing here. I’d wager you’ve got things going on that have nothing to do with me, and I wish you luck in dealing with it, but please discontinue taking it out on me.

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      Rating: +43 (from 55 votes)
      • sassyjesus

        responding to four sentences with four paragraphs is always the best way to win arguments good job

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

          I’ve never been one to buy into the “lol effort on the internet” thing. Typing isn’t hard. A few paragraphs for some people only takes a moment.

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          Rating: +3 (from 7 votes)
    • WhatisthisWinter

      Don’t go after a mod. It won’t end well for anyone.

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      Rating: +17 (from 17 votes)
  • The Reader

    I just don’t think you should talk to people like that who don’t deserve it.
    Yes, maybe it was dumb to scroll to the bottom of the page and ask a question that had already been answered. From now on, I’ll scroll through all posts to make sure I don’t make this mistake again. All I’m trying to say is that you could have written "That question’s already been answered," or "Check the previous posts, thanks!" or just not respond at all. Receiving a reply that was so sarcastic in tone was off-putting. Sorry for whining. :(

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    Rating: -9 (from 41 votes)
    • GermyJimmy

      People on the internet generally like making whipping boys out of people they’ve never met, often being hostile for no reason. So don’t let the responses get you too down. Using teh internetz requires havin’ sum thick-skin.

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      Rating: +8 (from 18 votes)
      • The Reader

        Thanks, that’s exactly how I felt. I’ll take your advice though. Skin thickened. :)

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        Rating: +1 (from 19 votes)
        • Captain obvious

          hey, is this from the old site?

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          Rating: +17 (from 21 votes)
  • SlyKatie

    LOVED IT! My new favorite. :P

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    Rating: +5 (from 5 votes)
  • pants

    ITS BACK 10/10

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    Rating: +6 (from 6 votes)
  • D.I.P.

    I freaking love this story.

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    Rating: +3 (from 3 votes)
    • SVbuddie

      me too

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      Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)
  • Hanis

    This made me want to imagine a clone of myself in my room doing stuff. I gets kinda lonely here so might as well do it. Too bad I can’t ask him for shit.

    Well cooked pasta 9/10.

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    Rating: +9 (from 9 votes)
    • Anonymous

      Me too! The entire time I was reading this, I was just like: “Awww man! Now I want to try that! Cool story, man! You’re a great writer!

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      Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
      • ~Nyan Cat~

        Actually, it is possible to make one through a HUGE process and all that stuff, there’s a lot of tutorials online with much advice and serious things. I’ve had my tulpa for a few months now and its an amazing thing coming from your subconscious that can talk to you and posses your body at your own will. It’s a pretty neat relationship without any.. creepy things as been read in the above story.. At least nothing that I have witnessed with mine.

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        Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
  • Anonymous

    I loved it :D

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    Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
    • Ben

      Maybe you can explain the ending, I’m clueless. And No before a jerk says it, I am not BEN DROWNED.

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      Rating: +3 (from 3 votes)
      • Mr.Widemouth

        The tulpa thingie killed his sister and gutted her like he said je would, and now he’s coming for the rest of the dude’s family, then him. Tada :D

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        Rating: +8 (from 8 votes)
  • trololol

    This sounds a bit like Black Swan but with a sci-fi touch . Very great but I’ll expect more –novel, maybe? Would be awesome!

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    Rating: +1 (from 7 votes)
    • TheIntimateAvenger

      Huh. I never really thought of black swan as a tulpa situation. That’s an interesting interpretation.

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      Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
  • Anonymous

    It might be interesting to try this… Creating my own Tulpa and see how far I can push it…

    Really one of my favourite storys. Thank you.

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    Rating: +4 (from 6 votes)
  • Noctem

    Awesome story!
    Haven’t read this one before.
    c:

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    Rating: +1 (from 1 vote)
  • Raphael

    This one is defiantly one of my favorites; the concept is just GREAT!

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    Rating: +4 (from 6 votes)
  • kayleigh

    i love it my cousin said it is cool

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    Rating: -1 (from 7 votes)

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