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Creepypasta Stories

It’s Inside Your House

It wakes you. Not the moan of a withered hag or the fleeting voice of a dead man, but the low trill of wind slipping past your window. Air being pressed into a hushed breath. The shadows meld themselves back into your bedroom. You blink. The blurred, hazy object of […]

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I am the Boot

When I was a teenager, I read George Orwell’s seminal novel, 1984. Written during the late 1940’s, Orwell’s work depicts a dystopian future under a brutal authoritarian regime. Many aspects of the story turned out to be eerily prophetic, predicting developments such as the emergence of the surveillance state. For

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The Dark Waters of Apa Moarta

Said to be christened Apa Moarta, or ‘Dead Water’, by a passing Romanian caravan in their native tongue, and tucked away in a far-flung, scarcely populated, staunchly isolationist region of untouched Russian countryside…beyond the grotesque, fantastical stories shared by the more ignorant and morbid of the younger generations, there’s not

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One Last Crimson Heart

One last crimson heart. That’s all there was. John stood in the storage closet-like room, barely breathing. The only light was a sliver from the hallway and a flickering incandescent bulb strung up in the center of the room. Directly under the fleeting yellow light sat a green box atop

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Matrimony

When Matt originally proposed the idea, I thought he was joking. Crash a wedding? Like in the movies? Pull a Vince Vaughn? I loved the idea, but the thought of actually sneaking into a random wedding to pick up chicks, well… it just wasn’t possible. Someone would realize we didn’t

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Hell’s Landlord

It is 1894. Fog hangs heavy on this cold, still, San Francisco night. Madame Grace, a young woman of African descent, stands before the door of a dark, three-story, Victorian-style house. The turban atop her head to the jeweled anklets draped above her feet, speak of a spiritualist. Charles, her

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In the Water

I work in a psych ward. It’s a really strange ward, however. Most people have either done something horrific or had something unordinary happen to them. The unordinary happenings were the more frightening of the two. Reading through the files of certain patients always made my skin crawl though. In

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I’m An Academic Postdoctoral Researcher And I Have Some Stories The Public Should Know

I need to get some weight off my chest and honestly, I don’t know where else it would be appropriate or believed than here. I’m probably telling you all this out of spite due to funding cuts, but that doesn’t change the fact that the public shouldn’t be left in

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The Black Rock Chapel Horror part three

Read part one here Read part two here With haste, the pair quietly exited the sanctuary and walked through the town that saw it’s citizens begin making their way to Black Rock Chapel. “Wednesday mass…”, Father Carroway muttered, silently chastising himself for the lapse in memory. “What is it, Father?”,

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I Investigate Disturbing Cases: Here Are My Stories – Hammerhead

Usually, I start these stories off with some kind of message about police work. But today, all I have for you is this. Life is a bastard. It was a rainy October evening and I had recently moved into my department’s homicide division after a long hiatus. It was a

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The Black Rock Chapel Horror part two

Read part one here Father Carroway wandered about in the ever-extended void of subconscious. Unable to feel or perceive anything anymore, he wondered if he had indeed perished through either the means of the serpent’s venom or the trauma of the crash down the spiraling stone stairs. “Am I dead?”,

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