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Creepypasta Stories

Chop the Willow

Related: Harlequin No.7 & The Kindness of Strangers “I ask him why above he crawls, scratching apart my bedroom walls. And he looks down through white eyes peeping, And says… I’m not crawling, I’m simply creeping.” –       Music & lyrics by Billie-Joe Kimble. The job of a […]

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Empty

Silence is not quiet, its loud. It’s a deafening roar. I’ve experienced quiet before; I always start work at 4am. Quiet is the gentle hum of the street lamps. Its the first songs of the birds, the last scream as the foxes return to their warrens, the warm caress of

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The Rain

It’s raining outside. I really hate the rain in this town. That’s all it ever does, is rain. Drop. Drop. Drop. I looked over to my right at the nightstand beside my bed. The clock read 3:40am. This always seems to happen. It rains so hard outside that the droplets

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Hidden Maize

Dried husks scratched their arms as they squeezed through the narrow isles of corn. Finding the entrance was a miracle as the pathways are barely discernable from the rows of planted corn. Every year, Old Man Hanky builds a corn maze for the local kids, but hides the entrance. The

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Wake Up

Everything started out normal. It was just a simple nightmare, right? But the more I thought about it, the more unlikely that sounded. No nightmare could be that detailed, that gruesome. At first I thought I was alone in that dream, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. There was

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Look, I even painted the moon, with one side dark and one side light.

Night

At my young tender age, painting was the only psychoanalysis I ever needed to retreat to, or how common people call it therapy. Every hour in the morning until the sun rises, my brush strokes back and forth. It tells a part of a story I wish to tell, but

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The Campground

This is based off a true story experienced by my mother. When my mother was younger, a teenager specifically, she was quite mischievous. She was a rebel, a non-conformist. She smoked, drank, and went out all hours of the night with her misfit friends. She often teases me saying she

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Hermit

(Based on a real life premonition.) On the eve of his parents death Alex sat down at the dining table and poured himself a glass of crystalline red wine. He swirled it around in his mouth before swallowing and grimaced at sour grape-like taste that died on his tongue. Alex

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Mauvaise Foi

“The trust of the innocent is the liar’s most useful tool.” -Stephen King   Somewhere out there in this great blue world of ours, across oceans and throughout time, there is a familiar face. Attached to this face is of course, a familiar person. This is a person that you

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Mirror Avenue

I live in a pretty small, relatively unknown town. This is the internet, so I won’t divulge too much information but I will tell you it’s in southern Wisconsin. I live on the corner of Lawn and Elm Street, and pretty near to my house is a stretch of road

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Laughter

You wake up startled, gasping for air, as you recover from a nightmare. It’s the same nightmare that has been repeating itself for weeks now. Every night, you helplessly watch as the same damn scene unfolds right before your eyes. There are children running around in a playground, as a

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