Greek: παράνοια (paranoia), “madness”, παρά (para), “beside”, νόος (noos), “mind” For the sake of protecting my identity, as if it matters at this stage, I’ll tell you my name is Freddie. I’m 20 years old and at the time of these events I studied at a University in Southern England. […]
As I am typing this, I am trying to be as calm as possible. As calm, as possible. I am hoping to God it cannot read what I am writing. I have acquired a… new friend. He is a very nice one. He stays with me all the time. He
There once was a girl sitting on her sofa, reading a book by the tableside lamp like any young girl might do. Above her hung an bloodstained old woman on the ceiling, with grotesquely rotating limbs as she slobbered and gasped like a dying fish. But the girl paid her
What Only the Girl Could See Read More »
As many stories here on Creepy-Pasta start off, cliché or not; I have never told anyone these stories. This will be the first time I document them anywhere. I may have mentioned an event or two to a few buddies and lovers, but never the full story. I don’t expect
The Man in the Black Hat and Suspenders Read More »
My mom is a terrible storyteller. She is a great conversationalist, a wonderful, sympathetic listener and quite articulate in two languages and her native Calabrese dialect; yet she is absolutely unable to narrate an event, personal or not, with any degree of conviction. She states the facts, but in an
That Night (Quella Notte) Read More »
I’m not sure if this will scare you, but I can tell you that I was genuinely terrified, and that to this day I still have dreams about it. I started working at an old Marine Museum in my home town as a summer job. It was fairly easy, all
My family have been living in the same house for almost 10 years, but not once did we ever encounter anything supernatural or creepy. Probably because we built this house ourselves and made sure no dead bodies were buried in the soil, so we didn’t have to worry about previous
“Robert Adam Lane the Third. You gave your soul to Him on May 7th, 1989, and it was a lie. A lie that you told the whole time you held your breath in that brownwater river. A lie you smiled out at that those holyrollers on the bank. Lies are
Gazing into the Abyss Read More »
*Introductory Note* What you’re about to read actually happened while on an internship during Fall of 2014. In order to protect people’s privacy, I’m not including the names of my friends, the name of the company I was employed with at the time, or the name of my university. But
A Slight Misunderstanding Read More »
I don’t know how scary you will find this, but I can tell you that I was horrified. When I was around 12 years old, my parents rented an old shingled house in Massachusetts, about a mile from the beach. We were staying there for the summer, and we were
Going back, I remember it all vividly; my first time at Posey Chapel with a couple of my friends. Nobody was really scared; after all, the sightings were hoaxes and never supported with actual evidence. But, being Halloween, something was bound to happen—and something happened indeed, because that night was
The Boy From Posey Chapel Read More »
Reading a couple stories here, and something that happened to me came to mind. You ever have moments that you blip out completely? As if your brain can bother to remember something only so often, so it’s shoved into the depths of your memory? But something always seems to unleash
It was the year 2000. I was 17 years old, a junior in high school, and I had a shitty, low paying job at a rinky dink discount store that, at the time, was just a step above something like a Dollar General or Family Dollar. My boss was a
It was almost three o’clock in the morning when something woke Leah up. She stayed in bed for a few groggy minutes, warm beneath the familiar blankets. For the last three days, an enormous rain storm had been falling on the island of Kauai, bringing an unusual chill along with
This story is a Crappypasta Success Story – it got such a positive reception (additionally, the author has reworked it somewhat after taking his received feedback into account) over at Crappypasta that it’s being moved here to the main site. You may read the original Crappypasta post and comments here.
All too often, my nights would end with a freezing walk to the nearest payphone to reach out to a friend for some help. My car was a piece of shit. To be brief and spare you the mechanical jargon, it had a nasty habit of dying on me. Being
Don’t You Just Hate Car Trouble Read More »
Growing up in the south, in a pretty religious family, folklore is always around. Being Mexican to boot, these stories were always a constant reminder to be a good child. My grandfather believed in this, wholeheartedly. He loved telling us that if we didn’t behave El Cucuy was coming to
The Devil’s Perfume Read More »
The first thing I remember of my arrival in Ahtunowhiho, the small Native American village in the northern reaches of Minnesota, was the smell. The familiar aroma of soaked dirt permeated the air and was instantly noticeable as soon as the doors of the cramped, twelve-seater plane were opened. The
The Silence of the North Woods Read More »
The events in this story occurred on a warm & humid night in late August of 2008, the night after Tropical Storm Fay ripped through our town in Gadsden County, Florida. Looking back on this, I will say that the terror of that storm was nothing compared to what followed
Tropical Storm Fay Read More »
“OPS-3 do you read? OPS-3 do you read?” I launched myself for the radio receiver, and jerked up the mouthpiece. I wiped away the film of sweat from my forehead before replying. “Receiving.” My throat was tight with a lump the size of a golf ball. “It’s good to hear
The Devil’s Cosmonaut Read More »
Summer. For someone living in a tropical country, it means unbearable heat and humidity, even at night. I was on vacation and staying at my uncle’s house. His house is situated in a low hill along the border of the town. They are not really isolated as they got neighbors
August 1st marks the tenth anniversary of the day the hunters came, though none of my family celebrates this anniversary. I’m only telling this story because I owe it to those men who saved us that day. I’ll be honest. It was my fault. It was all my fault. Ten
Three years ago I had been asked by my employer’s to retrieve a particular item but that day I walked away with more than just a mere trinket. I had been employed for several years at an antique store called “A Moment in Time”, and I liked my work. I
My basement has never exactly been a welcoming place. It’s unfurnished; there’s no carpet and the walls consist of boring, exposed bricks. There’s a set of old wooden stairs on one end that creaks whenever anyone uses them. Behind the stairs is a storage area that begins about four or
