Creepypasta Stories

Repossession

I can clearly make out a hospital ward. It’s probably mine, since I’m in its bed. It’s a private room, and my low bed faces the wall. I see no windows. I turn my head–wait. I suddenly notice restraints digging into my arms, legs, across my chest, and fixing my

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Scratching

1 When I was 12 years old, my parents finally decided to split me and my younger brother up and give us our own rooms. I was a couple of years older than Alex so I got the bigger space, while he stayed in the box-room. My dad wasn’t too

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Influenced

I watch the horror film that is news, every single fucking day. I have, shall we say, an unhealthy obsession, with knowledge, and subsequently the ‘knowledge’ provided by my television screen. I just cannot seem to ignore it; I suppose this is due to my primal instincts, provided by evolution.

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The Vigil

“What is sleep but the image of death?” -Ovid, “Amorum” *** Mayet sat in the big chair and looked out the window. The curtains were drawn, so there was nothing to see, but she looked anyway. She could hear them talking in the next room. They’d left the door open,

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Malignant

I am walking in a thick, swirling, yellow haze. Struck with an overwhelming nausea, I sink to the ground and vomit viscous bile. I’m surrounded by figures that are tall and distorted, almost like shadows on a wall. They have elongated faces and their wide open mouths scream that cry

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Clockwork: Your Time is Up

A little girl sat in her room. Her messy brown hair was put into little pigtails, as her hazel eyes stared at the door. She hugged her stuffed giraffe close to her little body and listened closely to the loud yells of her father and mother. “I never should have

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We Lie

Adam entered the living room and sat down with a glass of red wine, careful not to spill. He needed to have another talk with his wife. Things could get difficult. The wine helped him keep a level head. “Clara.” “Yes, dear?” “I’m glad you’re here. We have to talk.”

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On a Hill

Part 1 The events of the past several days have both shaken my understanding of the world, and left me with a disheartened and perplexed disposition. Yet I feel that I must organise these events in my mind, that I am compelled to structure the terrible things which I have

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Shadowmen

The rain pattered on the single-hung window, As I lay awake on my satin bed sheets; Sleep had no desire to stay, So I wait, observing Darkness. The downpour roared as the storm grew heavier, Throwing more diversion towards peace; Temporary madness overwhelmed my emotions Resulting in aggravated moans produced

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Those Eyes

This is difficult, very difficult. I am not at all comfortable with this. I keep reminding myself why I’m doing it. These are not the typist’s words. The typist is not me, but my sister. I don’t know if she believes me, but she’s giving me the help I need,

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