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Purified

“Hell is other people.” –Jean Paul Sartre, No Exit Things had gone terribly wrong. I wasn’t one to ever really be concerned with history—I had failed it three times in college—but even I knew things had gone terribly wrong. If anyone survived any of this, it would be up to …

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November 2013 Raffle: Badasses of Fiction – ENDED. Congrats, Nicholas!

It’s time for another Creepypasta giveaway! Geek Chic Cosmetics is an indie brand that specializes in making fragrances, nail polish, and makeup based off popular “nerd” culture – so lots of video games, sci-fi, cult classic movies, etc are referenced in their names. This set caught my eye because it …

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November 2013 Discussion Post: The Creepypasta/Music Connection

This month’s topic was suggested by Predhead. He may not be an official co-admin anymore, but he still lurks and (kinda) loves you guys! We’ve had posts about creepy video games and movies, and this post is similar – but not entirely. We want to hear about your favorite “creepy” …

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Kalhuzacan

It was probably nothing, he thought, suppressing a shiver of fear; just next doors cat jumping down from the bureau, or the broom falling over in the kitchen. After all, everybody knows that in the dead of night, even the smallest sound pierces the veil of silence and encroaching dreams …

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Skin Deep

Rory Larkin often asked himself why he had decided to visit the house on Baileigh street. Was it an attempt to show everyone that he was fearless and rational enough to discard some silly superstitions that reigned over the hearts and minds of Rasperville’s townsfolk? No, no and no. Rory …

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My Name Is

My name’s Charlie, and I’m 15-years old. I’ve lived in Chicago for just about my entire life before my entire family moved to the small town of ********* (I’m not going to name it for personal reasons). There’s been a story going around this little town, something about children getting …

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Higher Powers

The chairs were the old school folding kind, brown metal with tan cushions that were almost comfortable. They were usually folded and stacked neatly against the wall in the basement of the church on Dionin street. Three times a week they were unfolded and made into a circle: once for …

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Masks

Gordon Simmons slammed into his locker. “Ow! What the hell?”, he struggled to shout with his face pressed against the cold blue metal. “Man, Gordo! Your locker stinks worse than you do!”, chastised the bully. Judging by the voice, Gordon could tell it was Jordan Merrick. Jordan was always a …

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The Passenger

Several months ago a friend of mine alerted me to a puzzling incident on an inner-city bus. Being a bus driver himself, he had heard many of the usual generic stories that would be exchanged around the depot – muggings, broken windows, the occasional couple attempting drunken sex; some drivers …

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