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Creepypasta Stories

I Felt It

When I was fourteen, I had a best friend named Boone Hicks. He was real sweet looking, with long blonde hair, Irish green eyes, and an elvish face. He was a little on the short side, only about five feet tall, and we hung out mostly indoors because he was

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The Painting

When I was seven years old my ten year old brother Jamie was kidnapped, or so they say. The police claimed whoever had taken him were ‘professional’ in doing so. That I had been incredibly lucky to have not been taken as well. They described the kidnapper in this way

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Smile

On the walls hung portraits of her family members who watched and made sure Evita didn’t cause any trouble when she was home alone. The same smile took over their faces in each one—the forced, wide, teeth-showing, nothing-can-ever-be-better smile—not exaggerated but fabricated. The three friends were sitting on the floor,

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Grease

You stepped into the darkened house, picking through the broken pieces of glass from the shattered window you crept in through. The rest of the windows were boarded up, the electricity long cut off from the decrepit old building, rendering it as black as pitch. You don’t remember how long

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The Gatekeeper

If you’re reading this, you probably think that it is just another fake story. Well, it could be. But if you wish, you can take a risk. Follow my instructions. See what happens and maybe have your life become so much better. Or so much worse. It’s really up to

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Mr. Leaves

“Mr Leaves was here” – those were the first words out of my daughter’s mouth that morning. I dismissed the chatter as normal for a seven year old girl. It didn’t seem strange to me that she would develop a new imaginary friend, especially under the circumstances; change can do

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The Forever House

It’s funny, really. You finish college, get yourself a degree, maybe stay shacked with your folks for a few years longer while the paychecks build up and, well, eventually? Eventually, your own place pops up. You wake up one morning as an overgrown version of the kid you used to

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Blood and Oil

Note: The following is a sequel to the creepypasta entitled “Breach”. The author recommends reading “Breach” first, as it is followed chronologically by the events described in “Blood and Oil.” Thank you! In the last hour of her life, as she ran blindly through the forest that surrounded her, Amanda

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Seaweed

My grandmother grew up in the slums of Prohibition-era Chicago. Her family lived in a small house near the harbor, and one of her earliest memories was of a particularly hot summer when, seeking respite from the heat, she and her sister discovered a seldom-used section of boardwalk near an

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Smile For Me

I have a beautiful smile. Oh, how I miss it. This morning, I wake up and I smile at my bedroom mirror. I am disappointed at what I see. I kiss my husband, I send my two children off to school. I entertain guest friends. I show them all my

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Rose

I visit my mother sometimes in the home that she’s in. She’s not actually old, she’s only in her fifties. But she hasn’t been able to take care of herself since we lost my sister. It’s difficult visiting her because I have a separate family now. I was raised by

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The Window

I was in my bedroom, doing the typical at-home teenager thing: staying up late, digging around the depths of the internet, and generally not paying attention to anything other than what was on my monitor. It was the early morning, around 2 o’clock, and everyone in my house was asleep

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Well Water

We began feeling sick after the rains abated, and the backyard remained a slick muddy mess where the grass hadn’t grown back, and the foundation for our new in-ground pool filled to the height of my shins even though the concrete hadn’t yet been poured. Dad wanted us to accept

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Room 1C

I lived in unit 1B in an apartment building. It was on the second floor, at the end of a hallway that leads to the other units, and I had the whole thing to myself. And for a while, it was pretty good. Quiet building, decent rent, no problems with

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