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The Voice

Estimated reading time — 3 minutes

The snow rests pale on the naked metal of the shacks around me. The pastel paint stripped away in ugly patches, the rusted iron underneath leers orangish-red at my intrusion – like a thousand fiery eyes set in the suffocating whiteness that is all around me. There is no one here in this deserted little village – this island in an endless sea of ice and capricious cold. There is nothing else for miles, it seems. I am all alone here. All I can do is wait for the ceaseless wind to dismantle me, to chip away at me until the red rust underneath my painted façade is all exposed and I become as silent as the town around me.

I press myself up against the side of a shack to get out of the wind, whose shrieks and murmurs fade ever so slightly as I hide. I slowly ease myself onto the porcelain-white ground, and draw my knees to my chest to protect the waning heat in my core from the lashes of the cold.



No louder than a whisper; I’m sure I’ve imagined it. My name called from across the village, sounding as if it was shouted. But the wind rushing through the squat houses almost stole it away before it reached me. I stumble to my feet, heaving my body upwards and craning my head towards the voice. I take a few steps towards it. The ice and snow forces deliberate and careful steps; taunting me who has no energy for such things. I walk onward, and even as I approach I feel the wind rushing by my face, taking with it bits of warmth – chips of paint.

I reach the farthest-flung house. There is no one here. Everything is silent and still besides the shuddering of my shoulders as the cold lifts the warmth from them in sheets. The wind strips the paint from everything – I am raw, red, rusty. The orangish-red eyes grow wider, amazed that I persist in moving amongst them.


Again, the voice calls. No louder than before; I might have missed it in the din of shrieks and murmurs. This time though, the voice comes from behind me – on the other side of the village, back where I was. My eyes water as the wind tries to pry them out. I begin trudging again towards the voice. Perhaps we passed each other. Perhaps whoever’s out there is pursuing me just as I pursue them, and as the wind pursues us both. I march in loose, fumbling step towards the voice, back through the town, back through all the red eyes. I fall once or twice, and it feels so good to rest that I might just fall asleep there. I rise each time, however; the voice draws me onward. I reach the other end of the village, looking out into the stormy sea of ice on all sides of this little island of paint and bleary, red eyes. There is no one here but me.


The voice calls once again with muffled insistence, no closer than ever. Somehow now, from the opposite side of all the decrepit shacks, it beckons me. I’d turn to it, but I can’t face those eyes again, and I’m so very cold, and it feels so good to rest.


Credit: David Feuling (AmazonTwitterFacebookRedditPatreon)

This story was submitted to by a fellow reader. To submit your own creepypasta tale for consideration and publication to this site, visit our submissions page today.

Check out David Feuling’s critically-acclaimed trilogy of novellas, The American Demon Waltz, now available on

All three novellas in the trilogy described below are included in the compilation:


“Bravo Juliet” is a survival horror military thriller, and the first novella by acclaimed fiction author, David Feuling. It tells the story of an elite soldier serving under US Army Special Project: Acrylic Geist, before she is betrayed and left to die in the wilderness of war-torn Vietnam. Brutal injuries, debilitating sickness, and the growing Lovecraftian threat of “The Maw” test not only Bobby’s will to survive, but her grasp on sanity itself.

“Witness to Those Waiting” is the second book in the “Bravo Juliet” series. Master Specialist Barbara Balk returns to investigate the subterranean mazes carved out beneath Kosovo’s towns and streets. From her entry through the Ngordhje churchyard, she must face undead horrors and ancient evils alike in her quest to return to the surface with answers.

“Vechnaya L’Vitsa” pits Corporal Barbara Balk against new foes in the depths of U.S. Covert Command Outpost (USCCO) #241. Leading a team of six soldiers and tasked with defending the experimental LISEMEC superweapon until it is ready to fire, can Bobby hold out long enough while under siege? Her resolve will be tested by supernatural forces, enemy sabotage, and the expansive Antarctic wasteland itself.

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82 thoughts on “The Voice”

  1. This has to be about the fifth pasta in a row where the main character is named Daniel. A little more creativity with the names, perhaps? ;)

  2. I am so confused. My best educated guess, would be to say, Hypothermia. The hints at the acute level of cold and tiredness, as well as the begginings of halucinations tend towards Hypothermia.

  3. Hey! It was accepted for this website wich makes it a creepypasta, stop saying that it’s not. It may not be creepy but it did get accepted though.
    It was good and very intereresting. 7/10!

  4. It says the shacks were naked metal, but then suddenly the shacks are covered in peeling paint? Am I being really dumb or is that off?

  5. Hey everyone. This is my last time visiting this site due to what I’m about to share. Was doing some research about this site and came across a poece entitled “Satan Watches Over Me”. It’s listed in the CreepyPasta Wiki. This person seemed to be sharing some pretty real thoughts and feelings of why the love and serve satan and why they will ALWAYS be obedient to him. Just a heads up. I truly think this sote is satanic and run by devil wirshippers so if you are a Christian or just don’t want to be a part of this garbage leave this site and never participate in reading these dark stories again. If you notice most of them involve some kind of beast stealing someone’s soul. Pretty depraved. Creepy Pasta stinks out loud! You’ve been warned.

    1. One: You do realize that not all Creepypasta websites are run by the same person, nor are all the stories written by the same author? The Creepypasta Wiki has absolutely nothing to do with us.

      Two: What you’ve written here is horribly offensive, and you’ve decided to do it on Christmas Day, no less. I’m assuming that you’re a troll, because I refuse to imagine that an actual Christian would treat their fellow man so horribly on the day dedicated to celebrating Jesus and all the kindness he preached. On the off chance that you actually are the faith you’re claiming, I hope that you spend some time thinking about what I’ve said, as you’re acting more similar to the types of people that Jesus condemned during his life than anyone else here. If you don’t understand what I’m talking about, I recommend that you spend some time actually reading the New Testament and less time attempting to harass strangers over what you’ve imagined their beliefs are. To aid you in that quest, I won’t be allowing any more of your comments, so you can use the time you would’ve wasted on trolling to actually read your holy book. Merry Christmas!

  6. Then who was emo who uses flowery writing and types in a manner that most people wouldn’t
    ever use? Oh yeah, the wind he mentioned gave us his name; Daniel, wasn’t it?

    Sorry, I’m bashing the story when I don’t need to. I like the use of adjectives, but it’s not really necessary to cram so many into a story, and at worst, the story’s depressing, not creepy.

    I’d give it a 5/10.

  7. OMFG, he’s a mother f’ing robot! Hes rusty and his paint is chipping off?! he has no “ENERGY”?! common ppl, hes an old robot with dead batteries :3

  8. “whats this? words? narrative? description? what the fuck is this garbage?! where’s the part that contains graphic descriptions of violent horrors beyond my imagination? where’s the generic bullshit or ritualistic set of instructions telling me not to open my eyes for the love of god? all i see is this hauntingly subtle story with poetic language! gah!”

    this is an excellent story with a very tragic atmosphere and the fact that it is currently rated two stars absolutely baffles and disgusts me.

  9. Makes no fucking sense and is not creepy. What is this nonsense about paint? If it’s meant to be the wind blowing his flesh off or something, news flash, he would have died long before conditions got that intense.

    Stop comparing it to To Build A Fire, also. Just because both stories are about guys dying in the cold doesn’t mean they’re at all similar.

  10. @CyanTerrorist

    What i got from it is that the hypothermia is causing him to have hallucenations(sp?), but i’m not sure.

  11. Waaaaaaaaay too much “the fluffling shininess of the eternal pitch black ichor-covered nullification oozed off the globulous and mystical shimmerings of twinkling diamond wings”.

    Why didn’t the guy just go inside one of the houses instead of standing in the middle of the street freezing to death?

  12. Um, I kinda liked it, anyone who has taken college lit knows how to deal with over-descriptive writers.

    I got the feeling there was a spirit slowly trying to kill him by calling him back and forth through the town, and at the end, he died of exposure right?

    It’s kind of creepy to me that someone would use their last ounces of strength to follow a voice to help, and that the true intent is his death.

    But I’m going easy on it. I would like some more of that OH SHI- pasta I used to appreciate here. This was a little creepy, feel like I just got out of a writing class, I’d like to be scared shitless now please.

  13. @Father Crow

    whaT you say is tHe truEst stement I’ve heard in awhile. oh God, A worse fate though, is what’s Going to hApen to whoever May read all the capitalized lEtters in this post.

  14. Chinchillazilla

    I don’t get it either. And I really don’t get
    why every other line had a break in it like this, because it was confusing and hard to read.

  15. Can somebody please explain what’s going on? I don’t understand this story at all. Chips of paint jumping around, orangish-red eyes? What?

  16. good we gues though we found it confusing at first but in the end we got it we greatly disliked the ending it sill needs work

  17. …*eyeroll* This one was just stupid. Not creepy in any kind of way. =\

    In fact, I think it’s a little stupider than the ‘heron that messes your pots’ thing. XD

  18. …Not the best pasta on the site… I felt like there was this buildup, and then there was no final delivery. It was a little anticlamactic. Usually when there’s bad weather, eerie voices, and a lost person, things turn out to be a litle creepier…

  19. More like sadpasta. And I was also reminded of To Build a Fire by Jack London, though that story was, of course, much better. It was overly verbose considering that nothing happens at all. I could understand if you were trying to make a creepy, depressing tone for some horror in the town, but nothing creepy happens, nothing at all. Nice writing, but I wouldn’t call it a creepy pasta.

  20. yes, it was pretty nice. but there was a slight over use of descriptive narration on the first part. still, it’s a good pasta in my opinion.

  21. he’s imagining things cos the cold’s gotten to him and he’s dying? is that it?? its not really creepy, but sad pasta is sad nonetheless.. TT_TT

  22. not creepy at all. But it sucks to be chasing a voice in that kind of weather. Hope he doesn’t die in the cold

  23. The Person Formerly known as 'Noneya'

    Aww, Im so sad now. Poor Daniel is boned.

    This Creepypasta was not so much creepy, as eeriley depressing.

  24. i like how the main character is so alone and hopeless and insane, i think. it’s not that creepy, though. just interesting.

  25. I LOVED THIS!!!!!! The language was so poetic and the depressing tone haunted me for hours after I read this. A true work of art.

  26. This is just bad. There’s no creepiness, and if you’re going to adopt such a pretentious writing style, at least put in the effort to write clearly.

      1. it was his life that was calling him. his head was playing mind games with him beacause he was so close to death that it was inevitable.
        well thats what i thought.

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