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Creepypasta Stories

Flash

I’ve heard there are two kinds of people: those who have vivid dreams, dreams of things and events, some impossible some mundane, some joyous some horrible — and those who have the same kinds of dreams but don’t remember them. I’d give anything if I could fit into either category.

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Invoking Aziuth

I lifted my eyes for only a moment. His form was unspeakable. An insidious darkness, a void opened to reality. My body lost all its strength, I fell to the floor, loosing my bladder. “Speak, slave.” The demon’s voice was sharp, metallic. I strained to lift my head again, to

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Necromaster

(This is a conclusion to the previous two pastas, “Necropotence,” and “War of the Dead.” I was a mod for the old creepypasta forum, and this is the first submission I’ve sent in two years. It feels great to be writing again! Thanks for reading it, and I hope it’s

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The Statue

He was an exceedingly average man. He had sometimes done good deeds and had sometimes done bad deeds. He had built up bad habits and good habits, neither outweighing the other. He was just average. If anyone had asked him he couldn’t have said why he decided to go through

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The Rikatah

I haven’t got much time left, but I’m going to try and write as much of this down as possible. right now I can hear it looking outside. It must have gotten Anthony too, making me the only one left. The story and events I am going to tell you

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