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Ickbarr Bigelsteine

Estimated reading time — 6 minutes

When I was a small child, I was terrified of the dark. I still am, but back when I was around six years old I couldn’t go a full night without crying out for one of my parents to search beneath my bed or in my closet for whatever monster I thought was waiting to eat me. Even with a night light, I would still see dark shapes moving around the corners of the room, or strange faces looking in on me from my bedroom window. My parents would do their best to console me, telling me that it was just a bad dream or a trick of the light, but in my young mind I was positive that the second I fell asleep, the bad things would get me. Most of the time I would just hide under the blankets until I became tired enough to stop worrying, but every now and then I would become so panicked that I would run screaming into my parents room, waking up my brother and sister in the process. After an ordeal like that, there would be no way anyone would be getting a full nights rest.
Eventually, after one particularly traumatizing night, my parents had had enough. Unfortunately for them, they understood the futility in arguing with a six year old and knew that they would be unable to convince me to rid myself of childish fears through reason and logic. They had to be clever.

It was my mother’s idea to stitch together my little bedtime friend.

She collected a large assortment of random pieces of fabric and her sewing machine and created what I would later refer to as Mr. Ickbarr Bigelsteine, or Ick for short. Ick was a sock monster, as my mother called him. He was made to keep me safe while I slept at night by scarring away all the other monsters. He was pretty damn creepy, I had to admit. Honestly, looking back on it all now, I’m still impressed that my mom could think of something so strange and disturbing looking. Ickbarr had the stitched together look of a Frankenstein gremlin, with big white button eyes and floppy cat ears. His little arms and legs were made from a pair of my sister’s black and white striped socks, and the half of his face that was green was made from one of my brother’s tall football socks. His head could have been described as bulbous, and for his mouth my mom attached a piece of white fabric and sewed in a zigzag pattern to shape a wide grin of sharp teeth. I loved him at once.


From then on, Ick never left my side. So long as it was after dusk, of course. Ick didn’t like the sun, and would get upset if I tried to bring him to school with me. But that was okay, I only needed him at night to keep away the boogeymen, which was what he was good at. So every night at bedtime, Ick would tell me where the monsters were hiding, and I would place him near the section of my room closest to the spookiness. If there was something in the closet, Ick would block the door. If there was a dark creature scratching at my window, Ick would be pressed up against the glass. If there was a big hairy beast under my bed, then under the bed he went. Sometimes the monsters weren’t even in my room. Sometimes, they would hide in my dreams, and Ickbarr would have to come with me into my nightmares. It was fun bringing Ick into my dream world, as he and I would spend hours fighting off ghouls and demons. The best part was, in my dreams, Ick could talk to me for real. “How much do you love me?” He would ask.
“More than anything.” I would always tell him. One night in a dream, after I had lost my first tooth, Ick asked me for a favor.

“Can I have your tooth?”
I asked him why.
“To help me kill the bad things.” He said.

The next morning at breakfast, my mom asked me where my tooth went. From what she told me, the “tooth fairy” didn’t find it under my pillow. When I told her that I gave it to Ickbarr, she just shrugged and went back to feeding my little sister. From then on, every time I lost a tooth, I would give it to Ick. He would always thank me, of course, and tell me that he loved me. Eventually though, I ran out of baby teeth, and I was beginning to get a little too old to still be playing with dolls. So Ick just sat there on my bookshelf collecting dust, slowly fading away from my attention.

Over time the nightmares, however, became worse than ever. So bad that they even began to follow me to the waking world, terrorizing every dark corner or rustle in the bushes. After one particularly bad night biking home from a friend’s house where I swore a pack of rabid dogs were chasing me, I got home to find something strange waiting for me in my room. There, on my bed, standing fully upright in the soft glow of the moon light from my window, was Ickbarr. At first I just thought my eyes were playing tricks on me again, they had been all evening, so I tried to flick on the lights. Another flick of the light switch. Then another, and another, with no change to the darkness. It was then that I started to get nervous.

I backed away slowly towards the door behind me, my eyes never leaving the shape of Ick’s silhouette, my hand awkwardly outstretched behind reaching for the doorknob. I was just about to get my ass out of there when I heard the door slam itself shut, locking me into blackness. In nothing but shadows and silence, I stood frozen in place, not even breathing. For how long I can’t say, but after what felt like a lifetime of cold fear, I heard the shrill, familiar voice.


“You stopped feeding me, so why should I protect you?”
“Protect me from what?”
“Let me show you.”


I blinked once, and everything changed. I wasn’t in my bedroom anymore, I was somewhere… else. It wasn’t Hell, but the comparison wasn’t far off. It was some sort of forest, a horrible, nightmarish place where partial embryonic abortions hung from the canopy, and the ground swarmed with carnivorous insects. A thick fog wafted through the air and with it the stench of rotting meat, while chartreuse lightening flashed across the night sky. In the distance, I could hear the agonizing screams of something not quite human. My head throbbed like it was about to explode, the pain forcing out a river of tears. In my mind, I heard his voice again.

“This is what your reality would become without me.”
I felt earth shaking footsteps approaching fast.
“I’m the only one who can stop it.”
It was behind me now, huge and angry, hot breath across my back.
“Bring me what I need, and I will.”
I woke up before I could turn around.

The following day I raided my parent’s closet for my brother’s baby teeth, giving them all to Ickbarr. Almost immediately the night terrors ceased, and I was more or less able to go on about my life as normal. From time to time, I would have to sneak into my little sister’s room and snatch what was meant for the tooth fairy, or strangle one of the neighborhood cats and pry out its sharp little incisors. Anything to ward off the visions, anything from a shark tooth necklace to a cavity ridden bicuspid. I also began to notice that Ick would move about my room whenever I left for any length of time, rearranging my stuff and hanging additional curtains. He was even beginning to look more lifelike, somehow. In the right light his teeth would glisten, and he was warm to the touch. As much as he creeped me out, I couldn’t work up the courage to just destroy him, knowing perfectly well where that would leave me. So I went on collecting teeth for Ick throughout all of high school and college. The older I got, the more things I would learn to fear, the more teeth Ick would need to keep me safe.


I’m 22 years old now, with a decent job, my own apartment, and a set of dentures. It’s been almost a month since Ick’s last meal, and the horrors are starting to crowd around me once more. I took a detour through a parking garage after work tonight. Found a man fumbling with his car keys. His teeth were stained yellow from a lifetime of cigarettes and coffee. Even still, I had to use a hammer to get out the molars. When I got back to my apartment, he was waiting for me. On the ceiling, in the corner. Two white eyes and mouth of razors.

“How much do you love me?” He asks.
“More than anything,” I reply, taking off my coat.
“More than anything in the world.”

Credit To: Stephan D. Harris

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214 thoughts on “Ickbarr Bigelsteine”

  1. Nobody will let you to hammer their molar to take it, they would resist. The fight may result in death or unconsciusness or just great pain

  2. I know this was a long time ago but I always used to have stuffed animals with me. I had a lot. They always protected me. The ones I kept with me all the time were hearts(a beagle I had made at build a bear that when you pressed her paw she would bark) and annie(a blonde mix of some sort of dogs with a red collar) I would take them everywhere, to restaurants, sometimes even to school. They always protected me from whatever monster my imagination created. I would wake up in terror, screaming, and only they could calm me down. When I was really little I loved playing with baby dolls, as I grew up the creeped me out. I still have an irrational fear over them. Hearts and annie made me feel safe, sometimes I would play that they would attack the dolls and kill them, thus saving me. I was a weird kid. I always pictured that when I was asleep one would “come alive” and guard my room, while the one I happen to be clutching in my sleep would some how guard my dreams, it helped me sleep. I would always talk to them, about anything really, my problems, my day, anything. Now that I really think about it I remember being thrilled when I woke up to find that they had moved. I still keep them in my room but I don’t really fo anything with them. Reading this makes reconsider that. (I know it’s not real but still)

  3. Y’all say the solution is to be a dentist, like its that simple. IT’S KINDA DIFFICULT GUYZ. You kinda need to go to university for 8 years, plus about 2 years in residency. Goddarnit people..

  4. Deus_est_morbuus

    For the argument of weather the main character is a murderer, it is never stated wether he actually kills his victims, however we can imply that he must’ve used blunt force (knockout blow) to be able to slip away with someone’s teeth, however the nature if the force he used is not specified, meaning that maybe sometimes he would be able to kill someone with one blow, whilst he could have attempted to knock them out with several blows, and either one blow or several, could lead to the belief that he possibly killed some people, while not killing all of them. The story mentions he had tools prepared for excavation of the teeth, meaning he was possibly prepared with something to knock someone out, whether it’d be a baton, iron pipe, wooden 4×4, etc. Although the true nature of the answer is left for the imagination of anyone, it’s best to say that whatever you believe happens is not to be argued with.

  5. It was a great story, although it reminded me a little bit too much of “The Origin of Laughing Jack” and “Mr. Widemouth” where, in both stories, the main character (a child in the beginning who grows older throughout) gets a friend when they have problems with their guardian (TOLJ) or can’t leave their room for weeks on end (Mr. Widemouth). Still, a good story.

    1. Deus_est_morbuus

      Those similarities apparently make for a good story, as they are all regarded as some of the best creepy pastas.

  6. Finally! Proof that all dolls are really just empty vessels waiting to be possessed by any random evil.I had fun reading all your creepy doll/stuffed animal stories.I had a cute stuffed pegasus named Pegga, but he never moved or did anything scary.The minute he did he woulda been sooo BBQ’D’d.I hated dolls even before I could talk.

  7. shannon coleman

    i made my own ickbar and i love it it took like 3 days tho i hope someone keeps ick going with more stories

    1. Deus_est_morbuus

      A thousand year old daemon, waiting for the obliterate instant in which it would be able to spew from its hellish chains, to finally at last be able to manifest into an object of earth, able to be used due to its birth and fabrication not being consubstantial with that of a regular plastic doll.

  8. Great story! Enjoyed reading it :) But why didn’t he just go to school to become a dentist, dental assistant or something in a dentists office?…all the free teeth you could handle! Ick would never go hungry lol

    1. Deus_est_morbuus

      Because regulations in US medical facilities prohibit the departure of anyone with any part previous or currently on, in, or attached to a person.

  9. This story made me remember my irrational fear of toys!! The only toys I felt I could trust when I was small was stuffed dogs. Particularly one called Brutus, though it’s collar said Hugglez. I always used to keep Brutus with me at all times and the other dogs guarding my bed. When my parents got me dolls I used to pull their heads off and throw the heads in the bin while throwing the bodies in a separate one so they wouldn’t be able to put themselves back together. I shared a room with my older sister who was about 6 at the time. She seemed to love dolls, making clothes for them, combing their hair.. She always left them on a bookshelf facing my bed. At night I could see their plastic smiling faces looking down and my imagination always went crazy in the dark, their bodies twitching, their faces sneering and whispering to me. I thought they were angry with me for removing the heads of the other dolls. I kept Brutus right next to my head and talked to him in whispers until I fell asleep. I dreamt about him and he played with me all the time in my dreams, always mute though. When I was five I started getting a recurring nightmare about a man without a face but a hidden smile that I always knew was there. He resembled a rag doll, though with smooth, white skin like an alien. He dragged people into a dream cast machine, and they were gone. I got the dream for years, each time people I knew were dragged in until my father, mother and sister were the last to go. I knew the next dream of that man would be me and my imagination went crazier, following me around during the day as well. During class, outside, at home. I was 8 by the time the last dream of that guy came. I realised people died in their sleep. And I was terrified of what might happen if I had that dream. Over those years I kept my dogs at the bottom of my bookshelf, still talking to them but I stopped believing they would protect me as they didn’t protect my family. I still kept Brutus with me hoping he would come into my nightmare like he did in my dreams finally I had the nightmare and he took a more morbid shape. His smile was now visible and crept from one end of his ear to another, with hollow eyes and no hair. He simply stared at me. And then he morphed into something that scared me more than any rag doll I’d seen. It was my dog, or stuffed dog Brutus. I don’t know if I’d always known it in my subconscious but I seemed like I had in my dream, because I picked him up as normally as I would in any other dream and he licked me. I never had that dream again and I never understood it at all.. I don’t know if I was always scared of Brutus or if my subconscious thought the humans were evil.
    Dang it! I wish I had nice, happy endings to my stuffed animals like everyone else!! But the whole burning thing..

  10. When I was around four I had gotten a dog for my birthday. It was a pale cream color, with a light brown nose, and a big smile. I name him Puddels. I loved that thing and took it everywhere. I looked at him as my guardian sort of like a knight. Around the age of 12 I’d forgotten about him and he didn’t turn up for awhile. I’d had vivid dreams of him turn into a real dog and attack things that scared me. I didn’t like the idea of him doing this I don’t know why. But I kept having them and instead of him killing monsters he killed people I knew. He began to scare me so I threw him in a hall closet hoping to never see him. And I didn’t for the next six years. I was 18 and about to leave for collage. I was packing up in the living room because there was just more room and a bigger T.V.. I heard my phone ringing so I went to go get it and I saw him sitting on my bed with the phone near him. I slowly got my phone and saw it was an unknown number. I accepted the call and heard a sickly sweet voice.

    “Why did you leave me?”

    I ended the call quickly with my heart racing. I quickly picked him up and got some matches from a draw. I took him outside and light him on fire a wave of relief washed over me as I watched him burn. The weird thing is a couple of days later I went to Good Will to look for a cheap gift and saw him. I swear he even had a few burned spots I ran out of the store and I never saw him again.

    I’m 22 now and I still have those dreams and I still feel like he’s still with me.

  11. Aerin:

    The definition of Strangling: “to squeeze or constrict the neck of (a person or animal), esp. so as to cause death.”

    So as to cause death. This is a CREEPYPASTA, not some cute little child’s story. He obviously killed the cats, and he obviously killed the man.

    The ‘esp.’ means especially. Yes, strangling is usually used to kill something, but that doesn’t mean that they killed the cats. The way I read it was that he was strangling the cats as to keep their mouths open so he could pull their teeth. However, I do think he killed the guy.

  12. I’ve read this pasta a few times and I always love it.

    Rereading it tonight, however, has brought up a question in my mind (though it doesn’t detract from the story for me): Instead of assaulting people and animals, why not just keep buying shark teeth necklaces?

  13. I know it’s probably not what the story was meant to be about, but for me I like to think that Ickbarr Bigelsteine isn’t actually alive; the narrator is just psychotic and has completely lost touch with reality.

  14. the hash slinging slasher

    This story,…. wow great job man! I like that you can scence Icks underlying wickedness, through his description, really nice foreshadowing, and very well done!

  15. serenawitchwriter

    in all likelihood ick is causing the nightmares. as a general rule you shouldn’t give pieces of yourself to any creature (not to say that you shouldn’t trust people); humans, imaginary creatures, spirits, monsters can use things like blood, hair, teeth, and tears to steal energy or control you(voodoo).

  16. I have a stuffed cat named Orange Kitty and a bunch of other beanie baby cats, I called them the Laughter Litter, everything else scared the crap outa me. (despite the fact that I named a cat squad the Laughter Litter)

  17. Masky and Hoody

    Wow. We love the way it had like the inconclusive endings like in those horror movies where that last thing that you see in the movie are the words ” the end?” O_O oh snap Ick is in our window now gotta go kill that thing.

  18. Well I must say that it took an unexpected route with the ending, I didn’t expect him to become a murderer or anything. Also before anyone decides to say there is no proof of death, I am certain that the forceful hammer sticks would not have left the man to wake up, I am not sure how many people have been struck with a blunt object but it is undoubtedly one of the hardest things to knock out molars. Not to mention he started stealing and killing animals for the teeth, what would make it so it would not escalate into something worse? I honestly think it may have been an imaginary friend that grew older with him and he progressed into a Schizophrenic down the road as a hereditary trait thus making “Ick” seem more real with the changing around of the house and what not. Still I love this story; I feel it should be higher on the top pasta list for sure.

  19. Ickbarr Bigelsteine

    Glad you thought my story was great! Now, who has spare teeth? I’m feeling ravenous. My friend can’t provide for me anymore, unfortunately.

  20. Wow, a really neat story !
    I am a fan of dark fantasy stories and this pseudo-tooth fairy tale really caught my attention and it’s the best story I’ve read so far.

    Awesome !

  21. I’m glad my Mr. Cuddles and Blankie never ask me for teeth. I’d definitely eat this again, pretty awesome creepypasta! :D

  22. I used to have my own ‘doll’. I called him Jip. I got him when I was 2 years old. I could not sleep without Jip. It felt empty without him. When I was 11 years old, I decided that I was too old for him. He was almost falling apart anyway, he even had a burn on his head. This story made me think of them. He should be somewhere in a closet in my house, I’m not sure.

  23. i am in my youth (well in my belief), about 17 years of age.. I still sleep with stuffed animals for the fact that I have a strong paranoia of anything pertaining or within darkness. i’ve always said to myself that my stuffed animals chased away mythical creatures and even now, i’ve actually convinced myself that my stuff animals have the power to destroy evil. kind of pitiful.

    all in good reason, though. my mind tends to twist things and make things in myth become reality, like the vision of where Ick showed the narrator life ‘without him’. i have a psychotic visions or images like so, or even believe that monsters in the darkness are real. strong paranoia, a mild schizophrenia.

    i read this story and am amazed for the fact that somebody actually had the same ideology that ‘stuffed animals keep you safe from monsters’.

    back then and even now of this coming of age, i still sleep with stuffed animals. i talk to them, rant about my daily life, complain etc. and they would listen, well i think they do. uh, i sound like a stereotypical crazy person. in short, i believe that stuffed plushies protect me and cure my psychotic mind during off hours.

    this is why no one talks to me.

    1. Stephan D. Harris

      Have you ever wondered if the monsters hiding under your bed are really the ones trying to protect you?

      1. That brought a new perspective. I figured Ickbarr may have been the better of 2 evils, but perhaps he was the only thing to fear.

  24. Absolutely loved it. I found this pasta very unnerving because the main character’s come to actually DEPEND on Ickbarr. I’ve found that most Creepypastas revolve around one person trying to spite some evil creature that’s trying to kill him/her. So, in that sense, I find this story very original.

  25. DAWn_of_the_dead

    It’s like the Son of Sam when he was a child, before he graduated to getting orders from his dog.

    I can’t say it was absolutely perfect, but I don’t want to play “computer warrior writer”… in other words, it’s easier to criticize than it is actually come up with a story like this that’s the right length, with the right details, and an ending that doesn’t feel rushed. This is quite good, and I’d love to see it become a video short.

  26. Thtz a cute doll. I sleep with many stuffies. 2 pikachus, 1 on each side of me. Tails doll, husky puppy, etc. I need tht doll!!!

  27. This Creepypasta was quite well-written; no stereotypical moves à la Lost Silver or anything. The story was captivating and the use of a childhood innocence was truely a clever move. I am completely delighted.

  28. I like this. It reminds me of Mr. Widemouth. Well, not to say they are exactly the same, but both involve creepy little creatures, trying to take the better part of a child’s judgement and turn it into something terrible. This is just what happens, when you do listen to these creepy little fucks. ;)

    Also, the picture is awesome. Did you take it, yourself?

  29. This was really awesome, but I didn’t like the transition from -Ick is collecting dust- to suddenly -Ick is undeniably an evil thing and I am home alone and everything is dark-…. But from THAT point, everything moved on nicely. I liked the subtle way the author moved into telling us our humble narrator was killing (or assaulting) for teeth.

  30. well its been a long time i posted comments. and by the way that…..was……F****N’ EPIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 9.7/10!

  31. I’d say an 8 out of ten. Well written, creative premise, and had the odd jarring moment I like in a good pasta. Still, I found the section where Ick left him didn’t really do much for me, I found the style a bit overwrought. Whereas Ick’s terrifying nature is slowly developed, the other scary things seem kind of tacked in.
    Very much enjoyed the story otherwise, especially the ending.

  32. reminds me of the creatures from don’t be afraid of the dark. they eat teeth and they look similar to the description of ickbarr

  33. When I was about four,my mom made heartless sock monsters,within a week they all disappeared.I still live in the house this happened in.Oh god.

  34. As soon as I was done I started to scroll the comments for just a bit. Then one of my roommates came out of her room…I thought they were all asleep. Scared the bejesus out of me.

  35. This story was so awesome, I have read so many scary stories, looking for the perfect one but they were all so boring and un-original. I loved this one, and can’t wait to share it with my friends. The only thing that I wished was in this story is the reason why the doll needed/wanted the teeth.

    1. Th'syra Eryth Deimos

      If you read the ending, I believe that he wants them for himself. “A mouth full of razors”. Before, he had fabric teeth. But as he was given more, they seemed to turn him alive.

  36. loved this story, but i sometimes dont understand things, like the ending, thats y i read the comments xD, but got nothing :/

  37. In my opinion, this is a fairly good pasta. Not as scary as anything I’ve ever seen on the site.
    If you ask me, in my opinion, I feel that Ick isn’t all that bad. Just wants teeth. I mean, more like a mercenary if you ask me. But I don’t think I’d be alright with him. Wouldn’t know where to get teeth from.
    However. I find that Ick is somebody who needs to be fed to help. It’s like feeding a child so that one day when he gets older he’ll eventually do the same for you.
    In my opinion, I’d give Ick a ‘meh’. (Not too good, but not too bad either. More like a neutral.)

  38. Wow, that was great, I loves the description of the doll and pretty much everything about this pasta. Nom Nom Nom :) great job!

  39. It was a good story, but it more or less stole the back story to “Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark”. Only, instead of giving them teeth to get a relative back, it was to protect himself, and instead of faeries, it was a sock thing. Very well written overall though.

  40. Hmm… what would happen if he was like Ted the living bear and he would just give the monsters the “finger”, like “fuck you that’s why” or berate the heck out of them like saying overly-mean yo momma jokes and stuff. Very hilarious.

  41. How can I get ahold of the author? I’d like to get permission to post this a reading of this. I liked the story a lot and made a recording of it. You can listen to it below:

    I still haven’t made this video public because I’d like to get the author’s permission before posting it.

  42. No buts about it, Ickbarr is a Heartless, that demon world was the End of the World, and he needs teeth instead of hearts

      1. Seeing as how that was the author of the story that said Ickbarr can’t use a computer, I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say he would know whether or not Ickbarr can use a computer.

      1. Don’t tell Ickbarr what to do, he’ll eat your soul. Just tell him you love him, give him your teeth and continue on with your life.

  43. This was personally unnerving for me, because as a child I was scared that my dolls, and stuffed animals were going to kill me. I had one teddy that I trusted, but the rest were shady as shit. I would talk out loud to them, to be super nice and to cover my ass. This story made me very nervous. My dog barked at a passing car while I was reading this and I jumped, I’m ashamed to say. Job Well done! The writing wasn’t over stylized, and though it was vague, I think you put it the important facts that shaped it.

    1. That part you said about talking out loud to them to be super-nice and cover your ass is exactly what I did with my mother’s doll. She has this life-like, life-sized doll about the size of a 6-year-old (8-year-old? 10-year-old, maybe? I dunno, I’m crappy at telling ages) that she got when she was seriously ill as a child. When I was a kid, she got it from her parents’s house (from a basement straight out of Silent Hill, I might add) and brought it to ours, then put it in my room, even though I let her know (often, loudly, pointedly) that I’d really, really prefer it not to be in MY room. She’d also do this thing where she’d decide to move it when I was asleep, and one time left it RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY CLOTHES DRAWER so that I was seriously too scared to reach past it and get dressed for school the next day. Anyway, I was (quite reasonably) terrified that it was alive and it would kill me, so I’d spend minutes at a time sweet-talking it, reminding it that my mommy loved us both and it’d upset her if either of us were gone, just so it’d leave me alone. I’m still half-convinced it’s alive. Maybe it’s just waiting for my mom to die so it can kill me without feeling bad or something.

      Other creepy things involving the doll are A.) it toppling over, falling apart when it hit the floor, and cockroaches coming out of it, B.) I had nightmares of it telling me I had to help it and dragging me under the bed, C.) it seeming to blink and smile at me when I had friends over to play Super Smash Bros 64, making us run outside screaming and only coming back in when we were armed with tennis racquets, and D.) finding out that dolls were originally made to house spirits, telling that to my mom, and her joking that she’d possess the doll when she was dead. I love my mom, but I do not want her ghost hanging around to freak me out and I especially do not want her haunting a creepy-ass doll to freak me out. Sadly, knowing how I feel about her childhood companion, she has forbade me from ever selling/destroying/getting rid of the doll.

      And now she got a creepy-ass little clown doll she put in my room, too. And she’s moving that thing around when I sleep, too. At this point, I can’t tell if my mom’s an asshole, a troll, or both. She’s the world’s sweetest lady otherwise, but Jesus Christ.

  44. Great story reminded me of my bear when I was a kid and how I found him
    In a box a couple years back and he was all tore up and looked really upset freaked me out, well
    Done on this

  45. well seems i have no choice, i’m going to have to burn my teddy bear that’s kept in my attic. nice pasta! i rate it a 9

  46. That was a solid 8. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it – it just didn’t have any features that REALLY made it feel special, I guess.

    I think this would make a good cartoon – one of those “not-quite-for-kids” stories like Coraline (which was also an 8, IMO).

  47. I like this one, the ending left the story all dark and inconclusive. I love that in a story, never ending more to wonder. I hope to see more

  48. And once again, the childhood plush dolls are set out to destroy the protagonist! We need to just burn all of them at this rate.

    Seriously though, this one was well done. Maybe a little more detail on his adult life and how he murders people or a scene where he takes out his own teeth. Nicely done, much better than Mr. Widemouth in my opinion.

    1. If you destroyed them all, then our fear would wander into their ashes, and ashes, unlike dolls, can’t be simply burned…

  49. Great pasta. Wasn’t too creepy, but good story. The main character is kind of a jerk, as he murders people to keep himself safe.

        1. He knocked the molars out with a hammer, it doesn’t really make you infer that he killed him.

        2. What infers that he killed him is that the man probably wouldn’t willingly let the kid take his teeth.

        3. I’m not sure wether or not you realize that if you lose more than one tooth, or even all your teeth, you’ll still live. I got 6-7 teeth pulled all at once a couple months ago and I’m still alive, so the man who lost his teeth could still be alive

        4. Your teeth were pulled with the influence of drugs, tools, and a skilled dentists. No I’m sure a man wouldn’t willingly let a stranger knock itu his teeth would he? He must have been knocked out or KILLED prior, and seeing that this is a creepypasta, I’m pretty sure he isn’t alive anymore.

        5. Do you not realize that he forced the teeth out with a hammer! And I pretty sure It’s not comfortable to have a hammer in you mouth. And honestly I an sure the old man wouldn’t let him do that.

        6. My great-grandfather more or less had to have a few bad teeth removed with a sharp blow from a heavy object when he was a teenager. He lived. He said it hurt like heck, since the only anesthesia they used was some type of alcohol, but it worked and the teeth came out.

        1. DONT........NOOOOOOO!

          it never said he murdered cats it said and this is copied and pasted. or strangle one of the neighborhood cats and pry out its sharp little incisors. strangled doesnt imply killed he could have but he also could have choked it until it blacked out dont assume cause it makes an ass out of you and me

        2. Well, this is a creepypasta, why wouldn’t he strangle the cats until they’re dead? He probably killed the guy at the end, too.

        3. This is to “no…no…NO…PLEASE DONT……..NOOOOOOO!” Seeing as I can’t seem to reply to their comment directly.

          The definition of Strangling: “to squeeze or constrict the neck of (a person or animal), esp. so as to cause death.”

          So as to cause death. This is a CREEPYPASTA, not some cute little child’s story. He obviously killed the cats, and he obviously killed the man.

          Remove your heads out of whatever dark and stinking cavern they currently reside, and please see that.

        1. One-hit kill is far less painful than prying out teeth from a live animal. So I’ll go with the most logical conclusion… he killed ’em, and then went for the teeth.

          Still… trading TEETH for protection, of all things?

    1. I figured I’d share something that I found interesting:
      When I was six years old, similarly to the character in this story, my family was at a Christmas party (I am unsure if we were having the party, or not), and finding myself perhaps bored, perhaps impatient at the idea of waiting to open presents, I went looking under (our?) Christmas tree. I saw a stuffed rabbit underneath, and for reasons still unclear to me, I figured he was mine, or should be, and so I claimed him as mine.I named him Kwik (though I often spell his name Quik, Quick, Kuiq, and otherwise), as my name starts with a K, and I thought the name suited a bunny perfectly. The irony of not having any certain spelling to his own name is in the way having him around could help me spell better. I had been in spelling bees all throughout school, and I still love writing and reading. I would often sit at home, with my mom and brothers asking me to spell difficult words for them (it’s surprising what can be entertaining, sometimes). My mom asked me to spell antidisestablishmentarianism, and I got it wrong by just a few letters. Kwik (whom I had created a voice for) spelled it correctly, after I had just barely failed to do so. While you could just call it a second try, it seemed that whenever I couldn’t spell something, Kwik could. Over the years, he has worn down, and my aunt has always put him back together for me. The feature of his that changes the most are his eyes. They started small, but every time I replace them, I make them larger. It just seems to keep him young and cute looking. I am a big…..coward, I guess you could say, at times. I don’t believe I am afraid of the dark, but my mind can make it unbearably frightening at night, some times. I am deathly afraid of, but also utterly fascinated by extraterrestrials… so almost every night, they come into my mind. Kwik helps me feel comfortable enough to sleep. It sounds strange, because I am not a child anymore, and still sleep with him, but what I found strangest of all was that I am 22. The same age as the character in this story. While I’d like to end this with, “Last night…I woke up and saw Kwik standing at the foot of my bed, watching the window.”, or something like that, because that would be as creepy as Hell, he did not. He has been in places before where I know I did not put him, but to anyone outside of my family, it’s not something that sounds believable. I just figured I’d share.

      P.S.- Kwik helped me spell antidisestablishmentarianism in this comment.

      1. That’s strange… When I was a small child, my brother got this stuffed monkey. I didn’t have any stuffed animals so I wanted one, also. But I got a stuffed lion one year. I named it Leo. Leo always seemed real to me, and I would take him on long trips sometimes when I was little. Come to think of it, he’s still in my closet, i’m pretty sure. But he’s looked different through the years. His mane looks slightly less magnificent, everything about him seems duller. When I was little, I had dreams where Leo was a real lion, and I would ride him, fighting off some sort of zombie-like creatures. As I got older, however, the dreams got more morbid. The zombie like creatures seemed to get larger and more grotesque, and instead of the jungle, one time it took place in some sort of house. I’ve never seen this house before, but in my dream, the walls were decaying, with plants growing through them. It was foggy, and the floor creaked with every step. In my dream, I saw some sort of figure. The thing advanced towards me with a knife. I turned around, and tried escaping, but the door wouldn’t budge at all. I could feel a sharp pain, which was weird. I could actually feel the pain in my dream. Anyways, I saw blood and then behind the figure, I saw a realistic Leo. He ripped the figure to pieces, and I woke up. I looked around my room, and I couldn’t help but look around. I saw Leo, and he was in my open closet His face was pointed towards me, as though he was staring. That was the last dream I had of him. Much like Czikkan, however, it’s not too out of the ordinary.

        1. Pretty creepy, my friend. Not sure if you were just telling a story, but it was oddly similar to my situation with Kwik, and entertaining nonetheless. Thanks for sharing, pal.

        2. Roxy Something

          That sounds pretty nice for a stuffed toy to protect you like that. I also had a stuffed toy I loved very much. He was a white bear with a beige nose and black eyes. He had one of those emotionless faces for kids to project their own emotions. I literally took him everywhere. Whether it was dentist offices, to bed, the store, he never left my side.

          Any time I had a nightmare,or was scared of a noise I heard, I’d grabbed Teddy, my bear, from the desk next to me. This was a time in a different house, and I slept with my mom in the 2nd floor. I was 2-8 years old in this house. Anyway I’d grab Teddy and and sleep with him. Usually I’d turn him away from me and curl up in a ball. I felt safe, like he offered me comfort that not even my mom could provide. In the morning, I’d always find him as if he were hugging my at my stomach.

          At the doctors or dentist, as a scared 6 year old, I was always nervous about the things they did. Teddy was always with me of course. I’d always ask them to do whatever they were doing to me to Teddy first. They sometimes did and Teddy seemed to smile as if to show there was nothing to worry about. I usually felt safer about needs, or drills.

          Actually, now that I’m talking about him, I remember I used to feed him too. His mouth was closed, but I’d put the food on his snout and he’d always get messy. In the summer he felt hot, and I’d put him in the refrigerator to cool him off. In winter when he was cold, I’d put him in the oven, not on of course though…I was a weird little child.

          We live in a basement currently, the last time I saw Teddy, was in a little 2 foot wide corner with shelves where my sister puts her clothes. He’s lost somewhere among the piles. Reading all these stories made me want to see him again.

        3. When I was around 7, mum bought me this rag doll for my birthday. I loved it so much. I always slept with it and dragged it alongside with me everywhere except school. I liked to think that it was a sort of protection from monsters like in the story. As I grew older, I still kept it with me. When I was 12, I was playing in my room with it beside me. I was surprised because -I shit you not- it flipped. AS IN SERIOUSLY FLIPPED. It was laying in a sleeping position and then it suddenly just flipped with it’s head turning it face-down on the floor. I told myself it was probably just the wind (although I knew that was impossible since it was slightly too heavy and there was no such wind present at that time). A year ago, I turned 13. So my rag doll became more and more…boring. Uninteresting. Somewhat stupid. I would frequently forget about it and would lose it somewhere. So one night I lost it somewhere but didn’t try to find it. So I slept without it. And about 2 weeks later, I woke up with a light cut on my face. Which was weird since I’ve checked everywhere I could have gotten that but nothing. I didn’t try to find the doll. When I was 13 my family moved to a different house and I found it. I didn’t seem to have an idea where to put it in our new house so I just locked it in a cupboard in my room. Occasionally the lights in my room would turn off for about 10 seconds and back on again. This happens about thrice a month. I’ve asked dad to replace the light stuff but it still happens. I’m pretty sure it’s not just occasional short powercuts since the light in the hallway always stays open. I still live there now. The doll’s still there.

          Just wanted to share~

      2. It kind of makes me feel better that I’m not the only one simultaniously terrified and fascinated by extraterrestrials. I have that same problem. I’ll read reported stories about abductees and what-have-you prior to laying down to sleep and I will lie there and torture myself by thinking about thoses experience over and over again in the dark. But t’s a topic that I simply can not stop learning about.

        Anyway, your story somehow resonated with me.

        I wish I had a Kwik of my own to protect me.

        1. I had a small bear called bob he had, a tie on which was on crooked and unkept making him look a little drunk, he protected me when my dad was drunk

      3. I own a stuffed dog named Pugsley. He made a sound when you pressed his hand. Just thought I’d join the bandwagon.

        1. I have a dog named Rex. Whenever I need to go into any dark space, whether to get mail or do laundry, I bring him with me, and I feel fine.

      4. Kwik sounds cute~! I wish I had him in my collection. You see, I had this unhealthy fear of dolls as a little girl, so I preferred stuffed toys. I keep the dolls in a drawer far from my bed, but some of them had to be displayed on my bookshelf due to the lack of space. Whenever I feel as if the dolls are watching me, I make walls using my stuffed toys and – tada! – the fear is gone! Before moving to our current residence, dad decided to hold a garage sale and sold my dolls… AND majority of my stuffed toys! As much as I love my dad, I can’t help but get mad at him. I loved those toys. I talked to them when I was lonely…


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