I hate scarecrows. I have ever since I was little. I found something about the dolls stuffed with straw unsettling. I remember my parents tried to help me get over this fear by telling me things like, “They’re not scary, they only want to be friends” or some other lame […]
Why I Hate Scarecrows Read More »
About half a year ago, I moved into a new apartment downtown. It’s hands-down the most upscale place I’ve lived in—rooftop access, a fitness center, a pool, huge windows with beautiful views of the city… this place had it all. My leasing agent said apartments in that building were going
Nobody Lives Here But You Read More »
When I got the first one, I was literally seconds away from stepping onto the plane when a call from “UNKNOWN” blared from my cell phone. It was a ringtone I hadn’t heard before, one I was pretty sure hadn’t come with the phone. Normally, I wouldn’t have stopped to
Distorted Warning Signals Read More »
As a kid sometimes your perception of reality and fantasy get all mixed up inside your head, one minute you’re playing with dolls then the next they’re taking you on some kind of mystical adventure through enchanted kingdoms and large castles. Lost in your own little world you don’t see
I grew up in a tiny town in Vermont. Tiny in terms of population, not size—there were huge sprawling farms and wooded areas, but almost no people. More cows than people, which is standard for a lot of small towns in Vermont. So, clearly, not the most fun in the
The Thing That Will Kill Me Read More »
I was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder when I was five. I have always struggled to interact with people because of this disorder, spending large amounts of time attempting to fix imperfections around me. I would lash out harshly at people around me if they touched me or my things, and
There’s always something inherently eerie about living in the forest, in complete isolation. You almost always assume the worst when you’re on your own surrounded by the thickly wooded area, it’s almost like time doesn’t pass the same as it would anywhere else, like the edge of the woods was
I had the house to myself, my parents were spending the weekend in Toronto, and I’d spent the day hanging out with my girlfriend. Up until I dropped her off at home later that evening, it was an ordinary day, as close to perfection as possible. I took my girlfriend
It Watched From the Roof Read More »
The sound of the car engine coughing and sputtering made my heart sink and my stomach knot. I always had a bad feeling about driving something that was twenty-three years of age. Even though it only had a hundred-thousand miles on it and had gotten me many places, I always
A Very Lonely Road Read More »
I’ve decided to write this out in the case that something bad happens to me. I’ve begun to play a dangerous game, and I can’t guarantee that I will come out on top. It all started about a month ago. I work at a small grocery store stocking shelves. I
I Have a Stalker, and It Excites Me Read More »
There’s three of them outside, hikers probably. Older maps usually show a route over the motorway behind my house but there isn’t one anymore. I don’t mind them usually, they just walk down and then walk back up a few minutes later and I go and explain the situation to
They Just Won’t Move Read More »
Chapter 1 The end was nothing like what scientists had predicted. There were no explosions, no destructive meteors, nor did we parish in a great war between countries; it was as if humanity awoke one day and life as we had known it, was over. My name is Hanit; I
The Beast of Hannit Read More »
It was early Sunday afternoon, and my parents were at church, leaving me home all by myself. They were devout Christians, yet I was not. Sometimes they even tried to get me to go, but it bored me to tears, and just was not a believer. So there I was,
Overview Widely regarded as one of the most popular and widest spread Creepypastas ever written, The Russian Sleep experiment is notorious as much for the gruesome nature of its content as for its plausibility. To this day, a large portion of the articles written about the story are attempts to
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Let me start by saying that Peter Terry was addicted to heroin. We were friends in college and continued to be after I graduated. Notice that I said “I”. He dropped out after two years of barely cutting it. After I moved out of the dorms and into a small apartment, I didn’t see Peter as much. We would talk online every now and then (AIM was king in pre-Facebook years). There was a period where he wasn’t online for about five weeks straight. I wasn’t worried. He was a pretty notorious flake and drug addict, so I assumed he just stopped caring. Then one night I saw him log on. Before I could initiate a conversation, he sent me a message.
