The sun commits suicide upon the pointed spikes of the mountain slopes, and is reincarnated as a floating blue ghost glaring through the boarded window. The walls chuckle quietly, coughing as some small rat scurries to the other side. An opossum galumphs across the attic above me, making some sort of growl as it goes. I stare around at this room, then down at my bandaged body. The room looks like it has survived some sort of apocalypse in a box. Papers with writing that no one will ever read scatter the floors. The yellow glow of a candle in the hallway dies, its ashy ghost blowing down the hall in the draft. I slowly lay back on the dirty, lice-infected bed. Clawing. Banging. Scratching. Claw. Bang. Scratch. Scratch. Claw. Claw. Claw. Claw! Claw!
Stop.
I shoot up straight in my bed, adrenaline and fear replacing the blood in my veins. The creatures freeze. It’s like the darkness has reached up and muzzled every little rodent up there. The silence creeps down the walls and through the window as the mountain fog slowly trickles in, like a cut artery on the mountainside.
Something calls.
They mock me.
They laugh.
I can’t stay here.
I can’t stay in this abandoned mansion any longer! In the morning, I’m taking that boy that was abandoned here and I’m pulling my car out of that guardrail and leaving. I strain to keep my eyelids open. No. No more. I am so tired I could pass out. I can’t fall…
Sunlight shoots through the window, making the shadow of a rotten ‘X’ on the splintered floor. As I stare at the window, half asleep. As I slowly recover from the grogginess of a sleep interrupted by frustration, I feel something brush my knuckle. I look down to catch a small crimson droplet fall onto my hand and glide down my finger, soaking into the dirty bed sheet. Another drop falls. Another…
I frantically pat down my body in search of any source of bleeding. I touch my neck, and as I briskly pull my hand away something softly hits the pillow. I jump up from my bed and run down the hall like a chicken being chased by some demonic fox. I turn a sharp corner and glare into the cracked mirror. A gash adorns my neck, about 2 inches long and as thin as a toothpick. My mind releases itself from my head and begins to search the grimy mansion for answers. It finds its way back to my skull, latching onto one thought – the rodents in the attic must have done this. As I sit in thought over how to kill them all, I realize what I vowed last night. In the morning, I would leave. And I won’t break my promise. I speed into the foyer and grasp the door handles. I pull back with all of my might.
The doors refuse to move.
I push forward.
Still nothing.
I pull back.
Something barely shines in-between the handles.
A long pole of rusted metal is jammed inside the two doors, holding them together. Eric must have done this. He must think I’m going to abandon him too. But that boy that was abandoned here must still be here. The attic rumbles, like feet running across the heavens. Eric must be in the attic. I turn around, calling his name. I make my way up the rotten spiral staircase to the upper floor. I walk down the black hallway to the dirty string with its handle cut off. I pull down the attic stairs. Eric laughs.
Lies. LIES! The entire world is a lie! You sit in your room as a child and stare at the darkness and hear the creatures rustling and see their sharp teeth and pointed ears and call for your parents. But they disappear when your parents come to your rescue. They tell you there are no such things as monsters under the bed or in the closet, and you grow up into adulthood believing it too. You grow up into adulthood and think “There can’t be real monsters, because if there were I would be dead right now!” But no. That is false. You are not dead because they wait until you are naïve to their ways. In reality the children are the ones who are truly protected, because adults do not fear the dark…
But the dark is to be feared.
Fear the creature that does not fear the night.
Because when you decide that you are safe in the shadows…
You have already become their prey…
Those things that Eric calls the People in the Attic
are what humanity should fear…
They are the monsters in the closet.
They are the “Settling of the House”.
They are how the world will end…
We don’t know they’re there…
And they know it.
DERPNOTE: This pasta is a Crappypasta Success Story. That means that it received enough upvotes during its time on Crappypasta for it to be posted on the main archive. You can find its Crappypasta entry here. Thanks, everyone!
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The sun commits suicide then everyone died from heat deprivation the end
i must not understand whats going on here.
“Galumphs”…hehehehehe…
I personally thought you went a little overkill on the metaphors and similes.
also, I didn’t quite follow the story. I mean, who is Eric?
I really loved this pasta. I can’t understand why everyone is saying such mean things about it. I also can’t understand why all of the mean, negative comments get upvoted and the nice, constructive comments get downvoted. There’s no need to be so harsh. I’d like to see half of you write something decent. Really, if you’re going to give advice and be so critical, do it in a constructive way.
I throughly enjoyed this creepypasta! However, I was kind of thrown off. A cut artery would plusate…. not trickle.
If this writing was put to the service of an actual story, that story might be good. This is no story, there are no actual events, and those few that are there are completely unexplained. A lot of things are mentioned, but we never get to know anything about them (why is he bandaged? who is Eric? why was he abandoned? by whom? and anyway what happens in this story?)
What a beautiful story. Beautiful.
Beautifully written.im in love with the first sentence.
Just…. Ughhh
I don’t know what your problem is. I think that is a very well written (ok, the beginning is a little overdramatic) and deep story. It actually made me think about some things. I mean; haven’t you ever wondered WHY EVERY CHILD with literally no exeptions, sees monsters? I know about 5 kids, who have never seen a monster movie or have heard a story about monsters (they are too young to read for themselves), but ALL OF THEM HAVE SAID THAT THEY ARE AFRAID OF SOMETHING THAT IS HIDING IN THEIR CLOSET OR UNDER THE BED. They never had contact to other stories, so they all developed this fear out of nothing. This story made me think about that.
Maybe you should too…
greetings from the people in the attic..
Yes! That is exactly what I had in mind when I wrote this story! Finally someone understood, and was brave enough to say they did! Thank you.
There’s actually a very simple explanation for why every child (WITH exceptions mind you) is afraid of closets or what’s under the bed.
Human beings have a subconcious fear of the unknown. This has been a survival tool for us for several thousand years.
As adults, we understand this fear (well most of us do, :P) and we are able to put our fears to rest. Children however have yet to realize that there is nothing that goes bump in the night. Most children do not yet possess the mental capacity to say, “That’s ridiculous.”
So, in conclusion, this fear was not developed out of nothing at all, and I have thought about this through logic and basic understanding of our history, not through this story.
No offense author, but I wanted to stop reading after “The sun commit suicide…”. It’s just… ugh.
I’m sure there’s some potential there, but please just… try harder next time.
Too much fluff for me to understand
I feel that you tried a little too hard on the opening. I found it incredibly pretentious. Also, you started off with a story, but then went on to describe feelings, beliefs, ‘beings’. I think this would have benefitted from either an expansion of the story you began, and only that, or the descriptions made in the last few paragraphs. Either/or, not both.
why are all the nice or good comments downrted? get a life, people….
Oh, and by the way, I’ve seen confusion over Eric and the boy a lot too. Eric is the boy. Eric is the boy that was left in the abandoned house while the rest of his family was taken by the creatures in the attic!
Well, thanks for clearing that up for everyone. I had a really hard time understanding the ending- left me with more questions than answer, and not in a good way
Hey everyone,
This is the author :) so, I’ve noticed that nearly every comment has something about Eric. You see, this is actually a fragmented clip of a short story I wrote last year. This is actually somewhere in the middle, with an element clipped from the beginning. I also made up the ending part on the spot to seal up the pasta. I was thinking of posting the full story. But I don’t really know now
The Grimace is less purple than this story’s prose.
I super don’t understand. Brilliant writing until just at the end it threatened to turn cliche but resolved nicely. I was so looking forward to something happening…who was Eric, who was boy, what was attic, why was he/she there, why is he/she so desperate to leave? I know it revolves around the “monsters” but it seems like I am missing something…
Beautiful sir, beautiful.
I rather enjoyed this creepy pasta! You’re use of imagery reminds me a lot of my own writings, and there is absolutely no reason that an arduous work of art like this one was not remunerative. I assume that this callous and, may I say without any regret, lethargic age of individuals have no reverence for works such as this. I give an honest and deserved 8.5 stars out of 10 for this work. Well done!
Your*
I was almost too lethargic to catch that one. Who in their right mind says ‘age of individuals’? You could have saved six letters with the word generation. I don’t think it’s about an inability to appreciate the work. It’s about trying to phrase your wording better so it’s not awkward as hell for the reader. You sound like a pretentious dick-bag.
— To the author:
Suicide is a dark subject, and a way to set the tone darkly if you’re going for that. Yet, the object of that theme actually has to commit suicide – a person, or I would even stretch far enough to say animal. The sun, though? Come on. Not the best way to go about placing the scene. Someone suggested a different way to put it “impaled on the peak”, what have you. Really just anything else except suicide, for me. Left a really bad taste in my mouth that stayed with me through the whole pasta. However, it wasn’t horrible. Good pasta, just use that brain of yours to create imagery in a more … easy to eat/read way, for lack of better words. Use less salt! There we go.
Good day, sir or madam.
6.1? 6.1?! Really? I think this deserves atleast an 8.0 or something. Although the part about Eric was a little pointless, it still was pretty good. But, i guess if you don’t like it you don’t have to give it a high rating, but 6.1 is a little too low if you ask me.
9/10
Wonderful imagery and use of diction(although there were a few emo parts
This Story has wonderful uses of imagery and a lot of good diction.(even if there were some emo parts)
Good story, but the opening line “The sun commits suicide upon the mountain slopes and is reincarnated as a floating ghost glaring through the boarded window?” a little weird if you ask me, I mean, I read that and I was like, okay then, this story will be, different.
-Herobrine
Always watching
good premise i liked every part except the entirely pointless parts about eric
Needs more details, and the wording is very odd. “The sun commits suicide upon the pointed spikes of the mountain slopes, and is reincarnated as a floating blue ghost glaring through the boarded window”? “The sun was impaled on the mountain tip” or something might have sounded a bit better and would have still given the passage that dark tone that you were obviously going for. It’s also pretty confusing to try to follow what’s going on in the story.
"the sun commits suicide" ………i’m done…..
Oh yeah… By the way, I
This sounds like an emo kid wrote this with his blood on his diary while eating lunch in the bathroom while everyone else is eating lunch outside. GO CRY EMO KID
Hey anonymous! I respect your freedom of speech, but I thought I should set some things straight. First, I wrote this on my laptop, not in blood in a diary. Second, I eat lunch with football players outside, not in a bathroom. Finally, I am far from emo
Thanks!
Nick
I likeho youadde that youea with football players. They must think youhava a real gift, if they’ve ever read your writing, if they’ve ever read yours. I don’t.
Hablo ingles?
*hablo usted ingles? Arrepentido
GOOD JOB!!!! I loved it not to sure about the first sentence though…. but for all good
I really don’t see what’s great about this. As soon as I read the first sentence I thought it was cliche with the whole "the sun commits suicide", I mean it’s fucking annoying.
There are a limited amount of writers in the world who can successfully write purple prose.
You ain’t one of them.
Anne Rice called. She wants her crappy writing back.
That was the best opening sentence I have ever read. Period. You have a gift with discriptions. Great story.
TP;DR
(Too purple, didn’t read)
I thought the writing was good and I loved the stuff at the end, but the part about the boy and ‘Eric’ seemed rather pointless and unnecessary
Very well written. almost more of a poem..
"The sun commits suicide upon the pointed spikes of the mountain slopes, and is reincarnated as a floating blue ghost glaring through the boarded window." well that’s an interesting way to put it.
Brilliant writing! The first sentence is just awesome and the descriptions are good too!