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Christopher Maxim

Creepypasta Stories by

Christopher Maxim

Enjoy Your Stay at the Covenwood Inn

Business trips are dreadfully boring, especially in my line of work. The only good thing about them? Hotels. The tedium of day-to-day dealings bookended with clean towels and a mint on my pillow. If I could live in one, I surely would. There’s just something in the ambiance that soothes …

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My Father’s Secret Room

It had been wracking my brain for months. What exactly did he keep in there? Why was he being so secretive? Even when I was younger, my father was more than happy to share his work with me at the dinner table. I listened intently, fascinated by the projects his …

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I Followed Her Home

For months, I caught glimpses of Claira from the safety of my cubical. So beautiful, faultless. Through innocent eavesdropping and pattern recall, I unknowingly learned almost every detail of her life; when she had lunch, who her friends were, and where she would be at any given moment of the …

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My Grandfather’s Ouija Board

My grandfather never spent that much time with me, growing up. When I heard the news of his passing, all I could muster was a tone of indifference in the form of empty condolences. My lack of sympathy turned to guilt when I heard he left me everything he owned. …

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A Strange Object Fell From Space

There it was. A fragment of the universe, hurtling through the cosmos. And there I was, gazing up from the comfort of a farmhouse rooftop, built by my father’s hands smack dab in the middle of nowhere. In all the years we lived out there on the countryside, not a …

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