#I asked my friends if they remembered Creepypasta the next morning at school

[smolfrosted]

I’m gonna be honest and confess something for a sec…

I left the Creepypasta fandom for like two years and was dragged back into it at three am by an Eyeless Jack dating sim

[tharrb]

Manhunt

This is my attempt at an original creepypasta, feedback would be nice

Has anyone played Manhunt? I’m not talking about the video game. I’m talking about a game that's played outside. One player would be it and hide, while the other players try to find they’re. Once they’re caught, a new player is chosen to be it, and so on and so forth.

My friends and I used to play it back in elementary school. Every Friday evening, to celebrate getting out of school for the weekends, I and about half a dozen of my buddies would go to the church to play manhunt. It was a tradition I still remember fondly. At least, until that night.

It was early November, during the fifth grade. At first, it was like any other night. Brendan was chosen to be it. As customary, we faced the side of the church to give him a sixty-second head start.

Now, one thing I must make clear, is that we had a rule; you could hide anywhere, as long as it was outside and you didn’t cross the road. The church was the perfect place, as it had several nooks to hide in, and it was near a densely wooded area. This detail is important, for what happened next.

I was looking around the edge of the woods when I heard Brenden give a loud “Ouch!” I turned to the woods “Brenden?” I said. “Oh, you found me.” He said. “You win. Come and get me.” “Where are you?” I asked, unable to see him with how dark it was. “I’m I’m the woods, just come in.” He replied.

Something didn’t add up. One, Brendan was terrified of the woods. He thought there were snakes there. Moreover, even if he did work up the courage to go in them, why would he just reveal himself so easily? “What are you waiting for?” He said, sounding a bit more impatient. “Come on in.”

After what felt like an eternity, I decided to go in. Before I could make a step, someone grabbed me by the shoulders. I yelped, turning around to see Brendan. “I lost. Zack’s it now.” He said. “That’s not funny!” I proclaimed. “What’s not funny?” Brendan said, sounding dumbfounded.

“You hid in the woods just to scare me!” I said. “Henry, I’ve was hiding behind the dumpster this whole time.” Brendan said. This only raised my confusion. After turning to the woods, I continued the game as usual, doing my best to avoid going near the woods.

The next morning, while I was eating breakfast, my mother sat down to talk to me. “Henry,” she said, and I could tell by the tone of her voice, that she was worried about something. “I don’t want you and your friends playing near the church anymore, okay?” “Why not?” I asked. “Because…” she said, already getting frustrated. “Because I said so!”

Natural, when an adult tells you not to do something, you’re first instinct is to do it. Later that day, I walked down to the church, only to find it swarmed by police. I saw two paramedics carry something covered by a white sheet on a gurney. I saw enough cop shows to know what was underneath.

One of the police officers noticed me and approached. “You lost kid?” He asked. I shook my head. “What happened here?” I asked. The officer bent down to my level. “There was an animal attack.” He said. “We’re still trying to determine what it is.”

Of course, once the news that “there’s a dead body in the woods!” spread to my school, it was only a matter of time before the rumors and speculation began. They ranged from the mundane and plausible, like a bear or wolf pack was responsible, to the more outlandish. It was bigfoot, or a chainsaw-wielding maniac, or a satanic cult.

Then the bodies continued to pile up. Among the victims were kids our age. Kids who went to our school. Kids I personally knew. By that point, the gravity of the situation had sunken in, and the rumors stopped. Eventually, the police gave up looking, and just put up a metal fence around the woods. Not that it stopped people from disappearing.

The fence is still up. Every time I go by it, I think back on the last time we and my friends played manhunt, and how I could have been just another victim had I not hesitated.

I can still hear my name being called from the woods.

[bobateaboo]

eyoo, guess who wrote a creepypasta, I dunno if it's good in any sort of sense because I love writing horror but cannot read it

I don’t know when I first noticed it, but I remember not being afraid at first. When I was little, I mean. I remember sitting in the corner, back to the wall, and talking. It wasn’t the same voice every time, but someone would talk back.

I called them the “corner friends”, uncreative as that is. They’d ask me for things sometimes, snacks mostly. I’d leave a plate of milk and cookies there before bed every night, and in the morning they’d be gone. My sister always said it was dad tricking me, playing games and eating the cookies when I went to sleep.

Wherever she is, I don’t think she’d say that now.

It was when I was 8, I think, when I first started to realize that no one else talked to them. I’d bring friends over, have them sit with me in that corner, and talk, trying to get their attention. They’d never talk back while someone else was there. Eventually, other kids stopped coming over entirely.

I was frustrated, at first. I even yelled at them, just the once. I told them they were making me look like a liar. They were quick to calm me, though. They told me I was special, that they couldn’t tell me why yet, but that I was the only one they could talk to.

That was enough, really, for a long while after that. They had given me that idea, that I was “special”. I guess I just kind of rolled with it.

I used to talk to them about everything. The kids at school, my homework, my teachers, any new games I got. I had a few other friends, here and there, few and far between, and I talked to the corner friends about them, too. They always got quieter when I did, more bitter.

It was a long long time, though, before they ever saw me really upset. I had come to them, crying about how a teacher had yelled at me. Mr. S, I think his name was. I was 12 or 13 then, too old to be crying according to my sister, but the corner friends shooshed and cooed and listened more than they ever had before.

I don’t remember what happened, all the way, for all I know I might’ve deserved it. I pulled some pretty dumb stunts as a kid. They helped a lot though. They had me tell them every part of what happened, down to the last detail. It helped, somehow, to tell them. It was more of a story then, less of something that hurt, I guess.

Mr. S wasn’t there the next day. Or the day after that. There were rumours that he got fired, and even more that he just went missing. One kid in my math class even said she bet he got murdered.

I told the corner friends a bit less after that.

When I was 15, I got really mad at my sister's refusal to believe me.

She teased me for believing the joke for so long, keeping “dad’s cookie supply chain” up and running for all that time. I told her she was wrong, and that I’d prove it. We even set up a bet, saying that whoever was wrong owed the other a formal apology, and a whole bag of candy.

That night, we had a sleepover. We set up sleeping bags by the corner, with a flashlight and a plate of cookies inbetween the two of us, and a tripwire with a bell at the doorway so we’d know if dad came in. We mostly blew raspberries at each other and gloated about just how wrong the other was, but it was kinda nice, in a way. I tried to talk to the corner friends a few times, but I had about just as much luck as I did when I was eight.

Eventually, through all the insults and kicking each other through the sleeping bags, we both managed to drift off, way too tired to keep it up that far into the night.

When I woke up, my sister’s sleeping bag was empty and so was the plate.

By that night, there were search parties, police, flashlights, the whole thing. All trying to figure out where she was. But I knew.

That was when I stopped going to the corner. I stayed out of the whole damn room. It worked, for just a few days. And that was when I started hearing them in the rest of the walls, too.

“Can you bring us something to eat?”

“It’s because you’re special.”

“Why don’t you come to talk anymore?”

“Do you want to play something different?”

It happened every time I was alone, they wouldn’t stop. I started sleeping in my parents room, in the middle of it so I wasn’t near any walls, but after they were both sound asleep, the voices would come up from the floorboards, too.

On my 16th birthday, my parents bought me a car, and so I started sleeping there. I’d only come inside if I knew one of them was going to be with me and like hell was I going back to the room. I’m never, ever going back to that room.

I’m nearly 18 now, I still basically live in my car, but it’s been peaceful, in a way. I haven’t wanted to think about any of this, not for a long time, but I think it’s important now. I don’t want there to be no one who knows.

Because my parents woke up to a scream and a big hole in the wall, and I think my friends are coming to get me.

[shdwwlkrsblog]

Idk if there are any creepypasta fans are here on tumblr but if there are any let me know you still exist bc why not

Anyways a story here

Warnings : blood , murder , death , swearing , mental illness , angst?

Jeff the killer x reader

Meeting an childhood friend

" 5 new victims with a smile carved in their face , police officer humbelbee ( i just needed a name) thinks it was the Jeff the killers work here " the woman in the tv said before the tv switched to a reporters camera who showed and officer and another interviewer " hello I'm live here we're the victims were killed with officer humbelbee who got a message for everyone living in y/t/n (your town name) " she said handing the microphone to the officer " hello and i need everyone to listen to me , this is the 3 time this week that Jeff the killer murdered people and we need to be extra careful because It doesn't seem like he's done . That's why I want everyone living in y/t/n and the towns near it to close all doors lock it as good as you can and block all the windows and stay inside , if you need to get food don't go out early in the morning or at night and never go alone , if you encounter Jeff the killer don't try to fight him and try to run to the next police station . He is too danger- " the black that now colored the tv interrupted him . You got enough you couldn't stand it anymore . Your old childhood friend jeffrey turned into a killing machine , killing all those innocent people . It was to much , it hurted but you tried to ignore it and looked at the clock at the wall showing 16:26 ' shit i wanted to get some food but now it's too late' you cursed yourself for not going earlier and walked into the kitchen checking your fridge but to your bad luck it was empty . ' do i really need to go now ?' you asked yourself feeling fear coming up in you 'what if he attacks me?' then a bit of hope ' what if he still knows who I am ?' but the hope was crushed when you came to the answer that he won't ' he ain't the same , he is crazy , a monster but not jeffrey' you thought a frown forming on your lips as the thought of jeffrey back then

"Hey y/n wanna meet after school ? " A male voice spoke behind you and you turned around to see Jeff standing there "sure jepp when are you free? "( Let's use jepp as the nickname you called him) you asked looking up at him 'how can he be so tall we are only 13?' you thought asking yourself if you were short or he was tall but we're in tripped by him punching you into the shoulder " hey I said I'm free at 1 pm " he laughed " you look like an idiot rn " and now he held his stomach bc of laughing " oh ok 1 pm then " you said , you didn't get what was going on but then you noticed liu coming up behind Jeff " oh I see the 2 love birds have fun " he joked earning a "no stop it" from both of you , you noticed your face heating up . Yep you had a crush on Jeff , a huge one but you didn't want to break your friendship so you keept quiet and brushed it off like it was nothing " hahaha okay well we need to go or we won't get our bus " you said trying to sound normal but liu noticed it and gave you his 'i see a bird in love ' glance but stopped when Jeff yelled a " what the fuck are you waiting for idiots?" And as response he got a " Jeff language you know mother will kill us if we swear " from liu " yeah whatever" Jeff yelled And ran towards you grabbed your wrist and pulled you to the bus station " com'on y/n we need to be faster than him " he yelled and liu and you laughed

(quick scenario from back then bc i wanna try to change my writing style to something good )

(end of scenario )

Years have passed since then , and you do still have a crush on him but not Jeff the killer , that monster . No you love the old Jeff . You shook your head trying to get that thought out of your head and looked at the clock 18: 19 ' i shouldnt spend that much time thinking and better get groceries ' you thought and wanted to slap yourself for wasting that much time but you figured out going now wouldn't waste more time and a self-slap would . You looked out of the window 'its 6pm and it's turning dark? Oh yeah it's winter' you thought as you walked quickly through your house grabbing the keys and some money . When you grabbed everything You looked at the clock again seeing only few minutes passed and you grabbed your selfprotection-knive 'bc i don't want to die ' you thought while stuffing it into your jacket . You made your way outside walking along the street only a few people were outside but the were walking quickly. Noone wanted to be caught by Jeff and get killed . After some minutes off walking to arrived at the shop and quickly got in and grabbed the food you wanted Payed and left the shop . When you left you got the feeling of someone watching you but you ignored it and just walked faster . When you walked pass a abandoned building someone aggressively trapped your arm and pulled you into it . The figure pressed you against a wall you wanted to move but stopped when you felt something cold and sharp at your throat and the figure started laughing in a deep and crazy voice . When you got a closer look you recognized the person , it was Jeff . But you got no time for that because he pressed the blade a bit stronger at your throat "jepp stop please" you begged and the figure immediately let you go . When he stuffed his knife away he asked "y/n!?" "Wait you still know who I am?" You asked surprised 'he remembers me does that mean he's still the old Jeff?' you thought happyness filling you "ofc how should I forget you ? Y/n i am so sorry for what happened but will you still be my friend?" He asked you hardly saw it but did he cry? But you tried to ignore everything that happened , all the people he killed . You loved him , you wanted to be by his side . You wanted to say yes but the sound of police sirens interrupted you . Jeff quickly picked you up and ran outside to the nearest forest ' since when did he become so strong?' you asked yourself while clinging at him and praying that he won't drop you . Jeff stopped when you both were far enough and set you down . "Are you ok?" He asked his voice filled with worry he was still the old Jeff for you , and you accepted him even if he was a murder . " Yeah and we are still friends jeff i don't care if you are a murderer i still love yo-" you stopped when you realized what you said and blushed , Jeff didn't say anything for a while " I'm okay if you don't love me just don- " your apologizing was interrupted by Jeff lips crashing into yours for a short time " i love you too y/n" he said and you guys kissed again

I'm not such a big fan of kissing but wanted to make a good and happy ending

Tell me if you liked it or not , the next few days (and if this story get some likes ._.) I'm going to try to be active and make more story's

Ask box open

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 11 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:   AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Chapter warning: child kidnappings mentioned

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 11

The return home was nothing but a blur. Sam’s mind couldn’t make much sense of anything until she focused on flashing lights in the darkness. Panic gripped her as the possibility those skeleton creatures followed them, but voices soon filtered through the dark trees. She called out to them in a raspy voice. At first, she thought her voice was too faint to reach them, but someone heard her.

One of the rangers came into focus as he approached her. After flashing his light over the area, he tried asking her something. His question didn’t make much sense to her, so she attempted to tell him she was okay, but the others might be hurt. Her vision swam as the ranger contacted someone on his walkie-talkie. The last thing she heard before blackness took her was the ranger trying to keep her conscious.

…

She woke up to find herself staring at a pale gray ceiling. Confused, she turned her head to get a better idea of where she was. The white walls, a single chair where Tucker was sleeping, and an IV which was attached to her clued her in that she was in a hospital. Why was she in a hospital? After glancing at Tucker again, she determined the better question was why was Tucker in the hospital? He hated them.

He roused himself after a few moments. “Hey, you’re awake!” After allowing himself a moment to stretch, he moved to her side. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Her throat felt like sandpaper. “How’d I get here? Where is everyone else? Where’s Danny?”

“I was told the Rangers called in ambulances after we were found. We and the A-listers were taken here. We were actually the least injured – just some scrapes and bruises. The doctors said you also had a bad bump on the head. Some of the A-listers are in critical condition, but they should make it.” He glanced around before leaning closer so he could whisper, “When I was released earlier, my parents told me Danny had been found and taken here, but they’re not allowing visitors. He’s being questioned by the police because he was found in a different location hours after us and relatively unharmed. Mom said the doctors seem worried about his vitals.”

“But he didn’t do anything!” She tried to sit up only to have Tucker gently stop her.

“Hey, the only way your parents let me in here was if I promised to make sure you didn’t get up if they weren’t in the room. I’m not pushing my luck after everything else that happened.” Once he was certain she was done trying to move, he went back to the chair and wrung his hands. “Trust me. I know he didn’t have anything to do with what happened, but it looks weird to the cops that he wasn’t found with us.”

Sam wanted to argue with him just so she could vent. Danny didn’t deserve that suspicion. He was probably most affected by what happened. Remembering him in that ghostly form, she hoped he would be okay being in the world of the living. He was back there with them, so she guessed he would be okay.

She tried to question Tucker for more information, but her parents interrupted them. After a boisterous show of relief from her mother, her dad had enough tact to politely ask Tucker to give them time with their daughter. She glared at Tucker’s betrayal as he gave a half-hearted salute before he exited leaving her to try to block out her mother’s piercing voice.

….

After a barrage of tests the next morning, the doctors were confident she could be released. However, her parents wanted them to keep her for another night as a precaution. Since the doctors gave her a clean bill of health, the police came in to take a statement from her. She told them what she felt she could – that someone who called himself Youngblood killed Lester and took Mikey, and after she and her friends got separated from the others, were hunted down by someone called Plasmius. While the police seemed skeptical, they did admit her story matched up with her friends and what they could get out of Dash and Lucas.

Her annoyance at the police lessened when Tucker brought her news they were allowed to go see Danny. Her nurse was fine with it as long as she returned to her room after a couple hours.

Danny’s room was on a different floor so it took them a few minutes to get there. After knocking and entering, they found Danny sitting up on his bed and chatting with his sister. After greeting them, Jazz excused herself after giving him a searching look.

“What was that about?” Tucker questioned as he glanced back towards where Jazz disappeared.

“You know her and her psychobabble. She’s convinced I’m traumatized need to talk to someone.” Danny’s tone seemed light, but there was a notable frown on his face. “I can tell she knows I’m withholding information.”

“I think the police also think that. The cop I talked to earlier seemed upset I didn’t give him more information,” Sam admitted before she moved forward to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing considering…?” She gestured vaguely to his body. “You still owe me a date, you know.”

A chuckle escaped him. “I know I do, but they need to let me out of here first. Then we can play it by ear.” He brought his hand to his chest. “Some of my vitals are wonky because of… what happened, so the doctors want to observe me for a while still.” His eyes grew distant as he continued, “Overall, I think I’m okay, but this place makes me so uncomfortable. There is so much emotion, and… I think they’re remnants of people who died. They might be ghosts, but they seem so wispy compared to what we saw. Clockwork told me that place corrupted ghosts over time, so maybe that’s what it is. The ghosts here aren’t corrupted.”

“Dude, I feel you about hospitals being creepy. The only reason I’m here is to visit you two,” Tucker admitted as he removed his hat and wrung it. “But what do you mean by emotion?”

There was a green tinge to Danny’s eyes as he glanced at them. “I can feel… maybe taste… the fear and grief in this place. I don’t like it.”

After sharing a concerned look with Tucker, Sam gently patted Danny’s shoulder. “There are old stories that say ghosts seem to respond to strong emotions. Maybe that’s what it is.”

“Maybe.” His reply was half-hearted.

“So, how exactly did you get back? And how did the visit with Clockwork go?” Tucker questioned as he sat on the only chair in the room, leaving Sam to rest on the end of his bed.

“Frostbite brought me back after we got the report that you were attacked, he led me to a different portal as the one you went through already closed.” His head tilted as he thought about it. “Clockwork was very unsettled by the events. He’s the ghost of time, by the way, and I don’t think I ever want his job.” After catching their confused stares, Danny launched into a hushed explanation of what Clockwork told him.

“You’re telling me the ghost of time missed seeing that weird thing?” It was Tucker who finally broke the stunned silence after Danny finished. “He’s not very good at his job, is he?”

Danny shook his head. “I don’t think it’s Clockwork’s fault. From what I caught, it seems what or whoever is employing those things, they are able to move in his blind spots.”

“You said something about how those things are looking to steal kids. Do you think we have to worry about them?” Although Sam wasn’t too worried about herself, she did have small cousins that while they were brats, she had no desire to see them harmed.

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t given too much information about them, and I don’t exactly have a way to try to find a way to find out either.”

“Hmm… When my parents finally allow me out of here, I’ll go through my collection of folklore and mythology. I know it’s a long shot, but maybe there’s a mention of something like what you described.”

“Oooh! That’s a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” Tucker smacked himself on the head as he brought out his PDA. After a few quick button pushes, he held it up. “I now have a program running to see if there are any recent reports of those things? It might take a bit of filtering to get around CreepyPastas, but I think it’ll work.”

Danny gave them a trembling smile. “Thanks guys.”

Their conversation soon drifted to more mundane things like school and imagining Sam’s parents going on a rampage against the school district. Their conversation came to an end after Danny’s parents entered the room, a little more excited than normal. They clearly wanted to discuss something in private, so Sam and Tucker excused themselves. Tucker then walked Sam back to her room, where her nurse was waiting for them.

xxxxxx

The next day, Danny was release from the hospital under strict orders he needed to be carefully monitored. His temperature and blood pressure were still on the low side, but he seemed to be healthy. Uncertain whether or not that was his new baseline, they figured his parents would return him to the hospital if he took a turn for the worst. So, he would be allowed to stay home from school for about a week.

If he was honest, he didn’t think he parents would be too motivated to keep an eye on him as they had a new toy to keep their attention. While he, his friends, and classmates were lost in the world of the dead, his parents managed to punch open a hole into that very place with an invention they had been working on for decades. Most of their waking moments were spent hovering around it and taking measurements.

He didn’t understand why they would make such a thing. Its energy infected everything in the house. He doubted his parents or sister were able to feel it unless they stood in front of it, but that energy thrummed in his very core. It wasn’t exactly a comforting feeling, but it seemed to calm the constant fighting between his human and ghostly forms. He supposed he should be at least thankful for that as it helped prevent slip ups around his family.

That had been the most nerve wracking aspect of his changes. His energy often surged without warning which triggered some sort of ghostly ability that both Frostbite and Clockwork neglected to mention to him. His body parts liked to inappropriately pass through solid objects or disappear for a few minutes at a time. It often went away after a few frantic moments of trying to fix the problem. He had yet to tell his friends about it.

For the most part, he kept to himself and in his room while he was under this surveillance period. However, he still had bodily needs. So, he would venture to the kitchen for snacks.

A couple hours after dinner, he went downstairs for one such snack. He found his sister in the living room watching breaking news regarding a disappearance of a teen. As he listened to the reporter, a strange chill ran through him. That chill worsened after they showed a photo of the girl – she was an underclassman at his school.

“How long have you been standing there?” Jazz demanded after she realized he was there. Had he really been that quiet?

“Long enough. What exactly happened to her?” He moved to sit down on the couch with her.

“After what just happened to you, I don’t think you should listen.”

He rolled his eyes. “Jazz, I’m fine. Besides, I already heard enough to know she went missing around the same time me and my classmates did.”

Jazz narrowed her eyes as she seemingly examined him for some unknown sign. When she didn’t find it, she sighed and caught him up. “She and her family went on a normal hike on a short trail outside the city. When she didn’t come back at the designated time, a search party went looking for her. She was found unharmed near a bend the creek that follows that trail.” She paused as she scratched her head. “It doesn’t seem too unusual, but something her parents said in an interview is bugging me. They said she seemed like an entirely different person after she was found. I’m trying to get more information to see if I have any information that might be able to help them.”

“You probably shouldn’t stick your nose in it.”

The expression she shot him went from offended to sheepish as she backtracked. “Well… I wasn’t going to directly get involved. I was just going to send a message to their doctors if I could find a psychological change that could help with their prognoses. I wonder if they’d let me do a case study on her for my class.” Jazz had received special permission to return home for a couple weeks to make sure Danny was fine. However, true to form, she had promised to work on any potential projects due the time period.

“Jazz… I’m serious. You shouldn’t get involved.” When Jazz looked like she was going to argue with him, he gave her the most intense glare he could muster. “You have no idea what might have happened to her. Getting involved when you shouldn’t, might make it worse, or you might get yourself involved in something you’ll end up regretting.”

She floundered as she tried to find her words. If he didn’t know any better, she almost seemed afraid. “I don’t understand you,” she eventually told him. “You’ve never taken such an interest in any of my previous projects.”

Danny just rubbed his temples. Jazz didn’t tend to back down from anything unless she had a sound argument. “Jazz, I’m telling you, there’s something wrong here. Don’t approach her.”

“Are you implying that her temporary disappearance has something to do with what happened to you and your classmates?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but call it a gut feeling.”

She gently patted his shoulder. “I know what this is about.”

“You do?”

She gave him a pitying look. “Because your situations are so similar, you’re projecting your fears and experience on to her.”

“What? That’s not it at all!”

“You just keep telling yourself that, little brother.” With that phrase, she effectively dismissed anything else he had to say.

Still unsettled, Danny excused himself and went back to his room to see if he could find any more information as to what happened to the underclassman and to alert Sam and Tucker to the information. While he was able to get little more than the information he heard on the news report, the feeling something else was wrong wouldn’t leave him.

[nadiawrites14]

whagt the hell nadia has a creepypasta oc???

its october mf

wc: 3.6k

not very well written and a bit of a hot mess but still love this tall king <3

There was this kid at my school. 

There was a kid at my school, and I just really need to talk about him. I think it’s something I need to put out there. I am talking about it because anyone and everyone I talk to seems to never remember his name, or him in general, but I can’t stop thinking about his face.

I was never popular at school, and my brother always outshined me in that fact. He was a cheerleader, and I was his nerdy, unattractive sister. His friends were never friendly with me, and it wasn’t easy for me to make new ones, so I mostly kept to myself. Besides a few nice classmates, I was a bit of a loner, and this led me to Charlie.

Charlie Nguyen had always attended school in my city. I knew of him — we’d never actually talked, besides nearly 10 years of attending school together. Come to think of it, I don’t think anyone really talked to Charlie. He was always there, a lingering presence, and seemed to get on better with teachers than he did with other kids. Despite both of us being outcasts, we never interacted, right up until recently. He just tapped my shoulder in the hallway once, shyly staring at his feet and asking if I would like to eat lunch with him in the library. Despite his crooked posture and timidness, he towered over me. I was only as tall as his shoulder. I had nothing to lose from it, really — it was more preferable to spending lunch with Ernest and his friends, so I accepted cheerily which made him very happy. 

Talking to him, I was shocked at how much I missed out on by never bothering to strike up a conversation. He was funny, sweet, and a hell of a lot more intelligent than I had believed. I’d often seen my teachers slip back 70s and 60s to him, but in one of the library’s secluded corners, we discussed politics and art and existentialism. I don’t even know how we got into talking about philosophy and what defines the self, but by the time the bell rang, my lunch was not eaten and I was much more enlightened than I was before. It was like a lightning bolt. I told him I’d be glad to eat lunch with him tomorrow as well, and he seemed very appreciative of it. As I headed to my last class, I realized I forgot to ask for his number, but decided I’d ask the next day.

Something about Charlie was just so alluring. I didn’t know much about him at all, even after our daily lunches began — he was 17, from Fresno, and his mother passed when he was young. Half-Vietnamese, half-white, and he spoke broken Spanish and loved to draw cartoons in the margins of his notes. I found myself chatting with him through text past my bedtime, where we’d discuss our lives, our academics, our interests. One thing Charlie and I really bonded over was our shared interest in both Shakespeare and horror movies. He’d been enamored since he read Romeo and Juliet his freshman year, but Hamlet was his favorite. At the time, I was peeling through AP Literature with straight A’s and was much more concerned with Tolstoy and Plath and Camus, but his fascination with the bard was certainly something I could bond with him over.

I prefer the comedies, though. Midsummer’s Night, Much Ado, As You Like It. Charlie’s interest in the tragedies ranged from the general to the obsessive, where he would produce sermons and sermons of how much the words and writings spoke to him. Considering how much death was in Hamlet and Macbeth, his other favorite, it concerned me, but I passed it off as nothing unique. After all, he was also a fan of slashers and all things horror. He loved a good scare. Whenever I tried to coax him into visiting his house for a movie night or a sleepover, he’d defer, and I would glumly accept the sentence. Once I switched the proposed setting from his house to mine, he gladly accepted.

Ernest was a little bit less enthusiastic about my liaisons with Charlie. They had gotten into scuffles before. Ernest got a very stern slap on the wrist for pulling on Charlie’s crutch in the hall once, freshman year. I told him a week in advance, just so he knew to vacate the house the next Friday and allow me and what he so lovingly called ‘the creepy asshole’ to watch a movie together. Ernie huffed and puffed about it the whole week and it really began to get on my nerves. The entire week, he bugged me and demanded just what I saw in that freak. I excused it as brotherly overprotection, but as Friday grew closer, I started to realize that it was fear.

When he dropped me off that morning, I confronted him in the car. “Why are you so scared of Charlie?”

Ernie scoffed. “I’m not scared of Charlie.”

“You sound pretty paranoid when you’re dropping a curfew on me and telling me to not get too close or talk too much.”

“Well, mom and dad are out of the house, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Charlie is a freak. He’s... creepy. I can’t place my finger on what’s up with him. Esme, just tell me, have you ever left the room with a splitting headache when you’re with him? Has your phone ever started bugging out? Hm?”

I thought back. Well, a few lunches in, I did have such an awful headache I had to excuse myself from class to go try and throw my guts up in the bathroom. It wasn’t that, though, and it had subsided by the end of the school day. The back of my skull would sometimes pound and contract, but I didn’t think it was anything, reducing it to pollution or mold in the school. It always ebbed when I left the school. For my phone, it would get a little buggy. Just a little buggy, though! I had no reason to think it was Charlie’s fault! It’s not like we live in a world where that shit happens. He’s not some psychic, he’s a weird, lonely kid with trauma. That’s it. And I let Ernie know that by screaming an expletive and slamming the door on him, spending the rest of the school day with a headache tenfold worse than the one I had all those weeks ago. By lunchtime, my head was pounding so fiercely I almost slipped and fell down the stairs. 

Charlie noticed, and asked what was wrong, a worried look on his face. I asked if we could postpone, and went on to talk about how awful my headache was. He seemed very disappointed about it but nodded and accepted with a smile. I felt so guilty about it, but it was quickly absolved, because when I walked out of the library with him I must have blacked out in the hallway. Charlie and one of the other teachers brought me to the nurse’s office, where my mother brought me home as I moaned in the backseat.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. A literal blur behind my crowded vision and the blood rushing in my ears, but I do remember awaking in the darkness of my room at around 1:00 AM. The red light on my digital clock said so. I awoke to the sound of something like water boiling, or when a witch’s brew bubbles inside of a movie or cartoon. It was bubbling, dripping, wet — but when I pulled back my curtain, everything appeared dry. No rain, not even any clouds. The stars were quite clear, due to the fact that it was a new moon. Despite that lingering sound of bubbling and popping, I was able to fall back asleep. I don’t know how long I slept, but when I came downstairs the next morning, my parents (and an over-concerned Ernie) were adamant that I stay home all weekend. I accepted that the next two days would be filled with boring movie binges and cups of hot soup and tea, and I plopped back under the covers. My head began to pound every time I checked my phone. I noticed Charlie had sent me a few texts, but I didn’t have the heart nor the energy to check what he had said. 

Sunday is when things actually began to get weird. The batteries in the remote for my TV had gone kaput, and I remembered that Ernie usually kept the same type in his desk for his old lamp. It was easier to walk across the hall to his room than down two flights of stairs into the basement. I knocked, and when there was no response, I entered. The lights were off. This was strange, because Ernie always loved to keep lights on. My parents constantly griped about seeing his outline in the window as late as 11, either from the strip LED lights that lined his room, the fairy lights, the candles, or the overhead light. I flipped the light switch and rubbed my eyes, as it was the most brightness I had seen in the past two days. Beginning to feel a tad nauseous, I took a seat at Ernie’s desk, trying to recall which drawer he kept his batteries in. As I searched, though, I noticed one drawer was shut from the inside, most likely from a heavyweight.

I should have just kept it shut. I shouldn’t have pressed. I should have gotten what I needed and left it alone, left my golden boy brother’s life completely alone. Then I could live knowing he didn’t have any dark secrets despite being a little bit of a bully and just a tad too standoffish. But, being the curious girl I was, I kept pushing until the drawer gave in.

Composition notebooks. The white smudges across the notebook covers had been filled in with dashes of pen, each one meticulously filled in. All five of the notebooks had this pattern. Blacked out, no name on the lines or any signage, otherwise normal in appearance. By that point, I should have known, but I kept going. I was once again shrouded in that same allure I felt around Charlie, the strange sense of being drawn in. When I opened the first notebook, I had to stop myself from making a sound. Every single page. Every single page in that notebook was filled with scratches in multicolored ballpoint pen, pleads and hypotheses and prayers. Drawings, maps, entries. The pages were thin from being worn down so deeply with the frantic pen marks, and many of the pages had been torn through from the intensity of the writing. My nausea grew and I began to feel my head pounding again. But I just couldn’t stop. Trying to process those frantic words written and dated and laden with tables and records and drawings was like trying to decipher hieroglyphics. Particularly, there was one symbol and one familiar figure that was retained throughout the notebook’s contents. An O with an X slashed through it. It reminded me of how I marked my bubbles on Scantrons, one line through, one line through, shade in the bubble. And the figure. The figure. A faceless man, a white oval of a face atop a suit and tie, and what looked to be tentacles pouring out from the sides. 

I was snapped out of my trance by the sound of footsteps rising up the stairs. I dumped the notebooks back in my drawer, besides the fourth one, which I tucked in the back of my shorts and underneath my sweatshirt. Ernie looked at me weirdly as I exited his room, but I offered a weak smile and held up the pack of batteries. He nodded, and I disappeared back into my room.

It fascinated me, and it scared me. When the oncoming headache and nauesa had left, I scanned over all his words and entries, observing each of his drawings and sentences and deconstructing like a true AP student should know how to do. I always assumed Ernie was going to parties when I heard his window open and shut or when he warned me he wouldn’t be home until late, not investigating supernatural entities in our affluent suburban town and measuring sound waves through apps he’d downloaded onto his phone. I hadn’t known Ernie was this brilliant. It took me about two hours of reading and rereading that singular notebook until I had connected the dots.

A few years ago, our cousin Ronnie disappeared. Ronnie and Ernie were best friends, close like brothers, and were inseparable at each and every family gathering. What I knew for certain about Ronnie is that he also had a particular fascination with ghost-hunting. He went out on frequent escapades with his girlfriend and her brother with some handy professional equipment in the most ‘supernatural’ bits of California. Most of my family excused it as a strange hobby that didn’t subtract from Ronnie’s successful business career, not until all three of the ghost-hunting squad disappeared without a trace while investigating the Lassen National Forest. No DNA, no bodies, no signs or directions or a reason were ever found. Even their car and all their expensive equipment, all of Ronnie’s research, had vanished into thin air. It seemed he had become one of those ghost stories he so adored to pursue. It didn’t hit me that hard, as I hadn’t known Ronnie all that well, but I hadn’t factored in how much of Ernie’s personality had changed since the disappearance. He had become more standoffish with his rivals, more competitive with his athletics, more jumpy and paranoid.

I should have known by the way he looked at Charlie. I assumed it was drama I had missed out on or the pure perils of high school hierarchies. But I had never noticed how hateful, how accusatory it really was. For some reason, I was certain that Ernie had it in his head that all of these things were connected. The Faceless Man, the disappearance of our beloved Ronnie Halaifinoua, and the outcast at my school who was seemingly responsible for bugged out phones and splitting headaches. It made no sense, but at the same time, it was like a missing piece to a puzzle that I simply had to snap into place. I hid the notebook in my schoolbag, and went back on Monday armed with a bottle of aspirin and comfortable clothes, ready to confront Charlie.

At lunch, I took two aspirin and handed him the notebook wordlessly. We sat in silence as he slowly peered over the pages, absorbing the information behind blank eyes without a single sound. When he reached the final page, he set it down and asked, “Did you write this?”

“Ernie did.”

Charlie sniggered at that and crossed his legs. “Well, he’s onto me, now, isn’t he?”

I stared at him, slack-jawed, feeling duped. “You’re— you’re—“

“What, supernatural? I’d like to think so,” he gave me a mellow look. “Ah… you may want to take another aspirin. Watch this.”

I popped one and I watched. He closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. The lights above us flickered off, then on, then off again, before the lights reignited. Charlie opened his eyes, suddenly breathless, and nodded. “I can’t… usually do it with that much control. It needs work.”

I slammed my hands down on the notebook, my mind barreling at 100 miles per hour with a smattering of questions in tow. “Everything. Tell me everything. Now.”

Charlie folded his hands and gestured to the aspirin. I shook my head and pulled the bottle to my side. He cleared his throat, steadied his gaze, and began. “I wouldn’t call myself willingly supernatural by any means. I did not ask to be this way. I have been tossed through more foster homes in 17 years than I can count on my hands, and I would give anything to give up this life. I hate living a life where I’m unable to control my abilities. I don’t want to hurt others, I don’t want to do this, but sometimes it gets out of hand. Lucky for you,” he said. “Some people will gain immunity once exposed to it long enough.”

“Gain immunity to what?”

“It has a lot of names depending on the universe you’re in. They mostly call it the slender sickness, but you can call it the static sickness, faceless-man-itis, whatever. You do you. Headaches, nausea, hallucinations. Malfunctioning electricity. Static. The whole thing.”

“So it is you.”

“Always has been. Well, not totally. Faceless Man? The Faceless Man, as your brother says, he may or may not have touched my mother with his hand, therefore touching me as well and handing me a degree of abilities that I drag with me. It’s my cross, Esme. I’ve been avoiding his gaze for the past 16 years and have always managed to just be out of his reach, but my powers are getting stronger and it’s all getting more and more out of hand. I needed to go to someone.”

“Does he have a name? An actual one.”

“Many names. The Operator, the Business Man, Chernobog. Apparently, now, the Faceless Man. And I guess he’s my parental figure now. I’ve been chilling with him more often. Crazy dude, gotta say,” Charlie said, putting his hands behind his head and crossing his legs. “Crazy, crazy things.”

I looked at my hands, unsure of what to feel. “Did he kill my cousin?”

Charlie’s face went slack. “He’s killed many, many, people, but I don’t have control over what he does.”

We sat in silence for a long moment until Charlie spoke again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

My heart began to pound. “Ernie’s after you,” I said, running a hand through my hair and letting it fall over my face. “I think he might try and hurt you.”

“So… movie night is postponed indefinitely, then,” he replied.

I grinned sadly at him. “Don’t make me laugh, this is serious. I don’t want you to be harmed.”

His arms dropped to his side, and he smiled at me. He smiled in a way that drew me back in all over again. “Esme, be here tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”

He vanished back out into the hall. I chose not to follow him. But, for the first time, I had a surprising lack of a headache, and I don’t think it was because of the aspirin. 

That night, I slipped the notebook back into Ernie’s drawer. I think he may have figured it out, though, because when we bumped into each other on the stairs, we stared at each other for a good minute saying nothing. I believe it was my way of telling him which side I was on, because when he surrendered his gaze he slammed the door shut behind him and I heard rummaging in his room. I walked to school the next morning.

When I came to lunch the next day, Charlie was already waiting for me. He handed me a gift bag. “It’s a present,” he said. “For you.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“I’m moving. You might never see me again.”

“Oh, Charlie…”

“I say might. Might. There’s a chance we will meet again. Perhaps in another lifetime or in another universe. We can figure it out, alright? Alright.”

I shared my lunch with him, half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and we toasted to his new life with our milk cartons. When we left the library that day, our pinkies were interlocked. As he turned to go to class, I pulled him back, and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll miss you,” I said. 

He hugged me. It was like hugging one of those plasma balls where your hair stands up when you touch it. I had just stuck my fingers in a socket, but when I pulled back, all I could see were Charlie’s grateful, glowing eyes. “I’ll miss you too. Goodbye, Esme. Goodbye.”

My hair on my arms was still standing up and my cheeks were dark with color. I had a mark on my pinkie from where it touched his.

Since that day, I haven’t seen Charlie Nguyen. Ernie is still doing tests and taking entries though they become more inconsistent and confusing each and every day. I have an idea of who’s altering his readings. The present Charlie gave me, though, might hold some importance for me in the future. It’s a key without something to unlock, a piece of quartz, his copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet with all his annotations in the margins, and a pair of earrings with ghosts on them. Quartz conducts electricity. I remember learning that in class. I always keep it in my pocket now. When I ask my teachers about him, they seem confused, as do the other students. Ernie and I have seemed to make a silent pact as to not discuss the matters of the supernatural. I think he’s looking for Charlie. He’s looking for anything that will bring him closer to the truth.

I feel farther to the truth than ever before, but I know I cannot be far from it. It’s a matter of time. Ernie has begun to have headaches lately.

[thatonewarg]

The Black Wolf

A Creepypasta by Katethered00

I am posting this story on behalf of my friend, Maria. I don’t have a shadow of a doubt that the story she tells is true.

I remember hearing a tapping on my window; three rapid taps to be exact. My light was turned out and it was dark in my room so I used my phone light to find my way to my window. I looked outside and only saw darkness. Nothing was there. I went back to bed and crawled under my covers. TAP TAP TAP.

There it was again, only louder this time. I pulled the covers over my head and shut my eyes tight, willing the insistent noise to go away. For a moment there was only the sound of my breathing. As I began to fall asleep I heard it again. TAP TAP TAP! My eyes shot open and my heart rate quickened its pace. The rapping on my window pane was much louder this time and by then I knew I wasn’t imagining things. I ignored the tapping but I was sure whoever or whatever was tapping on my window could hear my heart beating out of my chest.

I plugged in my headphones, played some music and shut my eyes tight. Eventually, sleep overtook me. BANG BANG BANG! I awoke with a start at the sound of aggressive banging at my window loud enough to shake the glass in its frame. I looked at my alarm clock. It read 3:26 AM. I started to sweat and my heartbeat grew louder and louder. I was sure my heart was going to beat straight out of my chest.

I got out of bed shakily and wrapped my blanket around my shoulders. I left my room and walked down the hall to the living room. I laid down on the couch and got comfortable under the blanket. Right as I laid down I heard it. The howl was low and deep. It lasted for about thirty seconds then stopped but I could’ve sworn I was still hearing it, echoing in my mind. I sat up and peeked through the window behind my couch. I quickly covered my mouth to hold in my scream.

There, standing in my backyard, was just about the biggest wolf I have ever seen. Its fur was pitch black and dense, appearing almost like a silk wrapped shadow. The eyes of the wolf seemed to stare into my soul, gazing into the furthest reaches of my mind. The wolf’s irises were golden in color and glowed in the moonlight. I didn’t dare break eye contact for fear of it jumping through my window and mauling me where I sat. The more I stared into the wolf’s eyes, the more I became entranced in it’s intimidating gaze. I could feel the wolf clawing at my mind, digging away at the surface of my skull. It seemed as though the black wolf was trying to break through my skull to feast on my sanity.

The moon was suddenly covered by the clouds, darkening my backyard. Just like that, the black wolf was gone… When the clouds left their place over the moon there wasn’t a trace of the wolf. It was as if it had just disappeared, fading away with the darkness. I can’t remember when I fell asleep after that but I do know nothing else happened until the next morning. I asked my mom if she heard the howling to which she replied “No sweetie, I didn’t hear anything last night, I slept like a baby.”

The day went along normally. I went to school as I would on any weekday and it was uneventful to say the least. It was later that night while I was in bed that I heard the howling outside my window. It seemed to go on for hours before I finally fell asleep. The next day was the same; uneventful. The only strange occurrence was a sketch of a black wolf on the next blank page of my biology journal. I knew it couldn’t have been any of my friends and considering my parents’ lack of artistic skill it couldn’t have been them either. I know I didn’t draw the wolf so how did it get there?

My classes that day went by slowly. It was during lunch that things started getting a little strange. I was sitting in the courtyard with a few friends. I was telling them about the bizarre and frightening things that were going on when I took my lunch out of my bag. I unwrapped the sandwich from it’s packaging and took a bite. It tasted God-awful and I instantly felt a squirming sensation in my mouth.

I looked down at my sandwich and I became horrified at the sight. Between the two slices of bread wasn’t lunch meat like I thought. Raw meat with a rancid smell that told me it was obviously rotten filled my nose. That wasn’t all. In my rotten raw meat sandwich were squirming, fat maggots. I got up and ran to the trash can, throwing up the contents of my stomach and spitting out the rotten flesh and maggots. I could still feel the repulsive, slimy residue coating the entire inside of my mouth. I could still taste the mixed recipe of vomit, rancid flesh and greasy maggots on my tongue.

I ran back inside the school, ignoring my friends calling to me. I burst through the door of the girl’s restroom and hunched myself over the sink, crying like a baby. I must have washed my mouth out with soapy water a thousand times before my school’s assistant principal walked in the restroom and put her hand on my shoulder. “Maria… Are you ok sweetie?” She asked with a calming yet concerned tone. I shook my head frantically and felt ready to throw up again. The assistant principal led me out of the girls’ restroom and I noticed my friends standing outside with worried looks on their faces.

I walked with her all the way to her office, still crying. Once I stepped inside her office I sat down in the chair across from her desk and slowly the tears stopped running down my cheeks. The assistant principal sat across from me and began to speak. “Maria, dear, do you want to talk about what happened at lunch?” I sniffled and rubbed my eye, staying silent. “Your friends showed me what was in your sandwich. Do you have any idea how that happened?” I shook my head slowly and she continued. “You do understand I’m going to have to make a report of this to child protective services, don’t you?” I looked up at her. She had a look of concern and sympathy on her face.

“No don’t! It wasn’t my parents’ fault!” The realization hit me. It was that… thing. That thing that was tapping on my windows did this. It must’ve also gotten ahold of my journal and drew that wolf. The sickening realization that it must have broken into my house the night before hit me like a freight train.

“Maria, sweetie?” My assistant principal tried getting my attention. I snapped out of my daze and she continued. “You have to realize how this looks…” she said quietly. Reading her face I knew what she was thinking.

“My parents didn’t do this. It isn’t their fault!” I snapped.

She looked surprised and went on “Who’s fault is it, Maria?” She asked, clasping her hands together on the desk in front of her. I bit my lip and sat forward in the chair.

“There’s something after me. It’s been tapping and banging on my window. It drew this picture of a wolf in my journal and I saw…” I paused for a moment. “I saw this huge black wolf in my backyard and it just disappeared!” I burst out, beginning to tap my foot nervously.

”Maria… Do you want to talk to the counselor about this? I think she can help you with-”

I cut her off with a sharp tone in my voice. “I’m not crazy!” By then I’d grown angry. I was having none of what she was saying.

She simply sighed “I’m not saying you’re crazy. All I’m saying is I think Mrs. Judy can help you with this better than I can…” I crossed my arms as she started writing a slip to the counselor’s office. My assistant principal handed it to me and I stormed out of her office in a huff.

My appointment with the counselor was at 3:20 PM so I went through another class, barely listening to anything my teacher said. When it was time to see the school counselor it went along just as you’d expect. I was accused of making up the events that were occurring. According to the counselor, I was “making up fantasies” to cope with what was happening in my “home life”. Nothing was going on at home other than all the shit this person or this thing has been doing to me.

The next few days were the same. The tapping and banging on my window at night, keeping me from sleeping. The constant fear of being watched… Followed. Checking everything I ate and drank for unwanted, wriggling, flesh eating visitors. Though new things began happening. I would hear the howling at night, every night; angry, vicious, deep howls that seemed to get closer and closer until they sounded like they were coming from right outside my window. The howling wouldn’t stop. It was driving me bat-shit insane. These strange symbols began appearing on my window, drawn in what looked to be blood. Another drawing appeared in my journal. I was losing my mind… The sleep deprivation and mental torture were getting to me… I started skipping school and hiding in my room all day and night.

There was a morning that I heard the doorbell ring. My parents weren’t home so I got up, left my room and answered the door. I saw the FedEx delivery truck driving away, releasing black smoke from the exhaust. I looked down and saw a medium sized package with my name and address on the shipping label. There was no return address. I took the box inside and set it on my bed, grabbing a pair of scissors. I crawled onto my bed and examined the box.

Nothing seemed unordinary about it until I cut the tape and looked inside. A folded square of stationary paper was placed on top of a black trash bag that seemed to have something in it. I unfolded the note and saw that it read, “To Maria B.” Then below those words was the delicate handwriting that read “Enjoy, little pig.” Signed, The Black Wolf… I set the note aside and opened the trash bag. I almost screamed at the sight of what lay inside. The decaying, stinking head of a pig stared me dead in the eye. I covered my mouth with my hand as the stench caused my eyes to water. I felt like throwing up. The pig’s mouth was hanging wide open, exposing it’s dried up pale tongue which lolled out of its mouth. The eyes of the pig were gray and sunken in, leaking the fluids of rot, like the tears of death himself. The smell was too much.

I grabbed the box, almost gagging, opened my window and threw the box outside. The pig’s head rolled out of the box and flopped onto the grass. I slammed my window shut and sat in the corner of my room, crying and shaking. I rocked back and forth, hugging my knees for what seemed like hours. It became dark outside by the time I realized how long I’d been huddled in the corner, crying like a nut case. I remembered my parents had gone out of town for a few days on a business trip. I was all alone…

Midnight rolled by and I was sitting in my room, checking the notifications on my phone. As I scrolled through messages I heard a knock at the door, three subtle knocks. I got up, wondering who could be at my door this late at night. I walked out of my room and approached the front door. As I reached for the doorknob I was stopped dead in my tracks. BANG BANG BANG! The stranger outside knocked again, aggressively this time. My heart started pounding and I checked to make sure the door was locked. I heard laughing from the other side of the door “Little pig, little pig! Let me in!” I gasped at the sound and felt frozen in place. BANG BANG BANG! I heard the banging on the door again then all was quiet.

I backed up a few steps, my heart pounding out of my chest. Suddenly the door burst open. They kicked the door open… ‘Oh my God I’m going to die…’ I thought to myself. I couldn’t make a sound. I fell back on my ass and stared wide eyed at the figure that stood looming in the doorway. They… It was like a living shadow. It stood still for a moment then, quick as lightning it lunged forward, slamming the door shut behind it. I tried to scream but no sound came out. It grabbed me by my hair and started to drag me down the hall to the basement door. I kicked and fought but it didn’t seem to affect anything.

It opened the door and dragged me down the stairs to the basement. I felt myself being held down and I felt pressure around my wrists and ankles. I tried to scream but a rag forced itself into my mouth, secured by duct tape. I thrashed and struggled in my bindings to no prevail. The basement light flickered to life at the click of the switch and my eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. My attacker stepped forward into the light and I screamed, only to be muffled by the gag in my mouth. It wasn’t a monster at all. It was a man, or at least I thought it was a man…

He looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He wore a black leather mask in the shape of a wolf’s face, snarling and angry. I could see the man’s eyes behind the mask. The skin around his eyes was painted black. His scleras were pitch black and his irises a glowing golden color. Just like those of the wolf I saw… He was dressed in complete black, decked out with heavy military combat boots, a tight fitting black hoodie with a tan skull on the back and black jeans. He unzipped his hoodie and tossed it to the ground.

I could see the scarred, exposed skin of his slim torso. His muscles rippled as he stretched. “Little pig… Tell me, are you scared of me? The big bad Wolf?” His voice was deep and had a slight rumble to it like a wolf’s growl. He seemed cocky and bold. I was crying again by then and shaking uncontrollably. I whimpered behind the gag. “Ha ha! You should be…” he laughed sadistically and stepped closer to me. “You don’t remember me, do you?” He asked, stepping even closer until his tall figure loomed over me. He looked to at least be six foot. I shook my head no. “Tsk. Figures a pig like you wouldn’t remember. Like a sheep in the flock… This isn’t personal or anything of the sort. You simply endangered my research so I’m endangering your life.” My eyes widened and I pulled at the ropes. They only tightened more around my wrists and ankles. “You’re a disgusting little pig. You need to learn your lesson.” I whimpered at the menacing tone in his voice.

The man in the black wolf mask lunged forward and grabbed my wrist that was tied to the arm of the chair. I tried to call for help to no prevail. “‘This little piggy went to the woods…” he grabbed my pointer finger and snapped it. I saw a flash of white and pain shot up my arm. He gripped my middle finger “This little piggy stayed home…” I heard my finger break as he snapped the bone. My screams and pleas sounded like a wailing, injured animal, blocked by the gag. He moved on to the next finger. “This little piggy had rotten meat…” POP! Then my pinky finger was next. “This little piggy had none…” SNAP! He moved to my thumb. I shook my head rapidly, desperately trying to beg for him to stop. He removed the duct tape and rag from my mouth. I gasped for air and before I could say anything he chimed in with a sweet, sadistic tone to his deep voice. “And this little piggy cried wee, wee, wee!” CRACK! I screamed and the sound echoed through the basement.

In a flash, he shoved the gag back in my mouth and sealed my lips with the duct tape. “Ah, what a wondrous sound!” He took in a deep breath through his nose and straightened up, tilting his head back to the ceiling as if my scream was a drug flowing through his veins like liquid fire. I saw a portion of his face just beneath the mask. His smile widened, revealing sharp, pointed canines. I noticed then that his hair was shaved on one side and black in color. His ears were pointed like that of a wolf’s.

”To this day I still have vivid memories of this self-centered son of a bitch showing the entire class my research journal, even reading some of it out loud as well, word for fucking word. I looked like a fool, it was only the second day of freshman year, everybody thought I was a freak… She thinks I would forget about that? She ruined all three years of my fucking high school experience. Oh but of course that little snickering pig would’ve forgotten, she had it easy, so fucking easy... The bitch is lucky I dropped out. If I hadn’t, she would’ve never heard the end of it the minute the bell rings on the last day of senior year.. Not like it matters now, all of her bones will be broken soon enough anyways...” The masked madman was deep in thought...

I was hyperventilating, nearly struggling to breathe as I felt the duct tape on my lips tighten each time I inhaled. ‘He has to get caught…He will…HE. HAS. TO. GET. CAUGHT.’ I continuously tried to convince myself that everything would be okay. My thoughts were running faster than wolves chasing after their next meal. My eyes began to pace around the room, I didn’t know where to look anymore. ‘He’s going to get caught, right? No way he can get away with this...Ah- err- fingerprints! He’d leave fingerprints behind!’ I suddenly gained a bit of hope, until I glanced over at the man.. ‘GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!’ I noticed he was wearing black military gloves...

He walked towards me slowly, I could hear the footsteps of his combat boots getting closer. I squinted my eyes, eventually shutting them completely to avoid taking one more look at that mask, that damn mask. “Frightened so soon, little pig? The fun is just beginning.” I whined quietly but my cries were muffled by the tape. There was no use in yelling any longer, no one heard me… At this point, they never will... He stepped forward and stood right in front of me... I tried to squirm... I couldn’t take it... Just fucking looking at him...

He pushed the chair down and I fell to the concrete floor. My knees burned like hell. I felt warm tears run down my face as I immediately heard a thump and my chair was suddenly pushed back to its original position. “Oh, little pig… YOU LITTLE FUCKING PIG!” He yelled, grabbing something from his back pocket. I felt my heartbeat racing... My chest felt heavy... My cheeks felt so hot, I could swear it felt like hot irons being pressed on my face. I could feel the fear, physically and mentally. He pulled out a lighter. This was it… My final moments... He sparked the lighter and the light of the flame reflected on his dark leather mask. He brought it closer to me as I began to close my eyes tightly again. I felt a sharp pain on my forearm and I whimpered in agony.

I suddenly felt the ropes around my left ankle loosen and rip. I kicked out and the tip of my foot hit his chin. He let out a loud sigh, unfazed as I heard him spark the lighter again. ‘Fuck.’ I thought to myself. “Did you think; YOU, YOURSELF Would get away from ME? The Black Wolf?” He laughed, louder than anytime he’d laughed before. I felt the heavy heat of the flame touch the tip of my toes as I attempted to squirm, failing miserably. Tears ran down my face quickly. My eyes opened slowly. I saw him stand up and grab something off the nearest shelf. He was pacing around.

“My my….Is little piggy scared? Boohoo! Too bad you can’t squeal for help.” He began to chuckle. “Little pig, little pig… Let’s begin.” I noticed that he’d gotten a switch blade from the shelf. I didn’t want to die like this. I never thought I would die like this. I began remembering all those childhood memories of mine, until it came to me... I know who this person is... Or rather who they were. I remember him. I remember what I did freshman year of High School. The rush of guilt was heavier than the weight of anxiety I got every time I looked at this guy’s mask. The guy who’d been abused by his mom his whole life or something...

I was so… lost in thought. I finally snapped out of it by the painful feeling. I was being cut in the arm, it felt like the knife just cut through every bit of flesh like butter which then lead to the inevitable bleeding. I’ve never seen so much blood before. I passed out cold... I was awoken by a door slamming. I was untied from the chair. I was no longer restrained. I ran over to my cell phone and called my parents. They rushed home and when they came, they called the cops. They didn’t believe me. This couldn’t be happening. They thought, they actually thought I did all that to myself. ‘No. No no no no no. He can’t get away with this, how did he cover his tracks so well? What even?’ I felt like I was going to snap. I went through so much of this, just to be told it was SELF INJURY. I snapped. “YOU FUCKING MORONS KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME IF YOU THINK I’D DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO MYSELF!”

The officers restrained me and walked me to the car. “Don’t worry ma’am, we are going to put you somewhere where you can get better okay?” I kicked. I squirmed. I couldn’t handle this anymore. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the back seat of a cop car, on my way to some awful place for crazy people. I tried to look outside the window. It was too foggy to see anything until I blinked and saw the faint markings on the car window. It had words drawn onto it with a finger. The crystal clear lettering stood out prominently on the foggy glass. It read,

‘The girl that cried “Wolf”’

[creepy--pasta]

This is my own Creepypasta. It's called "Lacrymosa"

Her name was Lacrymosa Tea. Just as naming your child "Candy" predicts their future stripper career, her name almost guaranteed she'd be depressed. Lacrymosa is Latin for weeping/ sadness. Her father had run out on the family years ago and her mother was an alcoholic. Every night, she'd get drunk and beat her... that is unless her mother was on the phone with her sister all night. Lacrymosa cherished her aunt for that reason. They didn't live in the same state so the only way she could save her was to stay on the phone taking verbal abuse so that her niece wouldn't suffer physical abuse. She had no idea why she'd never reported it. Understandably, Lacrymosa was depressed. Her black hair hung limply around her face and her blue eyes once so bright had dimmed. She preferred to stay in the shadows. She preferred... to be away from people. By the time she was 13, she began cutting. It started when she was shaving her legs in the bathtub and the cheap razor broke. It cut a gash in her leg and at first, she swore under her breath cupping water in her hand to wash off the blood. However, as the blood oozed down, she felt satisfaction watching its path. The next day, Holly Hebert was teasing her again as usual in English class and she had a thought... the razor. This was a girl that sat behind her on the bus and cut her hair so it hung unevenly, put gum on her seat in class then pointed out the giant spot on her butt to everyone so they'd all laugh at her, threatened to beat her up daily, and often "accidentally" hit her with baseballs or volleyballs in gym class. She hated Holly. She didn't know who she hated more though...Holly or her mom. After school, she rushed home to dig the broken razor out of the trash and brought it to her room. She didn't hesitate. She placed the razor against her thigh and ran it in a long line. It bled just a little but it was enough. The sensation was hard to describe. It was like she was a balloon about to pop and the razor had let out some air. Just enough for her to function again. From then on, whenever she felt stress, anger, or any kind of unpleasantness, she would cut. Four years later, she was 17 and the cutting had all but stopped. Her thighs had visible scars from the years of cutting but so now did her upper arms and stomach. The scars were a reminder of the horrible things she'd done to herself. Sure she thought about doing it again, but she'd learned new ways to deal with her feelings. The one thing that helped most was the presence and attention of her little pug Evan. Her mother had gotten him for her and it was completely out of character, but Lacrymosa didn't question it at all. The dog meant the world to her. Shortly after she'd gotten Evan, her aunt had visited and seen the cuts on her body. She didn't deny it when her aunt had asked if her mother had done it. She couldn't admit she'd done it herself. In the end, her mother had gone to jail... and she'd been placed in her grandparents home. She felt bad she'd blamed her mother for the cuts but she'd done far worse to her for years. Bruises and broken bones her mother had gotten away with but now she was paying for her crime... even if it was technically the wrong crime. But that was years ago and she was able to sleep without fear now. One night she went to bed more exhausted than she'd ever been. So tired in fact that when a noise awoke her from a deep sleep, her eyes only fluttered open and barely registered a shadowy figure before falling deep asleep again. The next morning, Lacrymosa woke up to the sight of blood. There were cuts on her legs, stomach, arms, and wrists... just like the cuts she'd made herself for years. But she hadn't done these! She'd never even cut her wrists before. Why hadn't she felt any of it happening? Why hadn't Evan barked? She rushed to the bathroom to tend to her wounds then dressed in jeans and a long sleeve shirt to cover each bandage. She dashed out the front door ignoring her grandfather's greeting and rushed to school. She thought hard about the cuts. Had she done them herself? That's when she remembered the figure she'd vaguely seen the night before. Was it her mother? It had to be right? The next morning, she woke up and again... there was blood. Her cuts were deeper and the were more of them. She was scared now. She had to do something. Seeing the cuts was stirring something inside of her. She had the urge to cut again but no! She couldn't! She held Evan close and pushed the thoughts away. If it was her mom, she had to catch her. That night, she set up the camera on her computer to record while she slept and went to bed. The next morning, she awoke to the same cuts as usual. They were really getting deep now. Rushing to her computer, she stopped the recording and began fast forwarding through the footage. She watched herself sleeping covered only in sheets and moving slightly. She skipped through hours seeing nothing until she suddenly noticed something. Blood was seeping through the sheets. It was just a small spot at first but it grew quickly. Lacrymosa paused the playback. This wasn't possible. She'd watched closely and seen no one. She rewound the footage and watched again. There was no one there and yet there were cuts being made and blood pouring from them. The next night, she drank a ton of coffee mixed with caffeine pills. She was scared to sleep. It was like she was living a Freddy Kruger movie without the scary man and glove with knives for fingers. Trying her best to stay awake, she googled her problem. None of the results came close and she was about to move on and watch some videos on YouTube when a message popped up on her Facebook messenger. It was from a user with just the letter "D" for a name. She opened the message. It read: "We need to talk". Lacrymosa sat still a moment before responding. She had all but a dozen "friends" on Facebook (mostly family) and this was not one of them. "Do I know you? " she typed. "No, but we need to talk. It's about the cuts. Can you meet me? We can go somewhere public " She thought a moment. The cuts? How could anyone possibly know about that? Intrigued, she responded "How will I know who to look for?" "Meet me at the 24 hour McDonald's in town. I'll find you" Lacrymosa opened the window of her second story bedroom, pat Evan goodbye, and stepped out onto the porch roof. She then jumped onto the front lawn with a thud and got in her little beater car (a silver Neon her grandfather had gotten her for her 16th birthday) . When she got there, she looked around. She didn't know who she was looking for so she went to the counter to order coffee. As she stood there waiting for an employee to take her order, she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Hey" said a man. Lacrymosa turned around. Before her stood a very tall pale boy about her age. His long shoulder length hair was black and his eyes were a beautiful grey. If he didn't look so tired and worn out, he might actually have been attractive. "Are you..." she tried to ask suddenly remembering she didn't know his name. "Draco... yes" he replied. "Draco? Your name is Draco? Like Draco Malfoy?" Lacrymosa said realizing she was probably saying the wrong thing. He rolled his eyes. "Yes... my parents are really big Harry Potter fans " he said almost sarcastically. "Your name isn't any better. Lacrymosa... like the song Roman Catholics play at funerals" "You're right. Fair enough. Why haven't I seen you in school? " she asked. Before he could respond, a McDonald's employee interrupted. "Can I help you? " she asked. They turned to see a smiling woman behind the counter waiting patiently. Draco ordered and paid for 2 large coffees and started walking to a booth in the back. They sat down in silence for a few moments before Draco responded to Lacrymosa's question as though there had been no interruption. "I'm homeschooled." He said simply. "So..." she said "how did you know? " Draco looked up from his cup. Then he rolled up his sleeves to reveal his arms full of bandages with blood seeping through. "You and I... are in trouble" he said. She tried to respond but he held up his hand. "Let me explain something first. Then we'll discuss it". Lacrymosa nodded quickly "I had a dream last night. In it, my sister who passed a year ago... told me to find you. I thought at first that she was talking about some drink... sorry. She said we could figure this thing out together." He paused. "Have you tried to record it?" Lacrymosa nodded. "Me too. It doesn't show up on camera. Ive never seen it..." he leaned in closer "but I think I know why it's happening. Before it started, were you a cutter?" He asked. She nodded, "but I'd stopped! It's been a year! " he smiled. "I think I'm right then. I was a cutter too. There has to be a connection". They sat in silence for a few minutes. "So how do we figure this out? How do we stop it? " Lacrymosa asked. Draco shook his head. "I don't know but we've got to try. Let's keep in touch. Call me if you figure anything out and i'll do the same" he said. They talked for a long time that night about their problem as well as other topics before going their separate ways. Lacrymosa found out he'd been homeschooled because of horrible bullying. They had that in common but he lived with two very supportive parents so they didn't have that. They seemed to instantly bond united by a common problem and goal. It felt nice to finally have a friend. They spent every free moment together for the next month. They barely slept and it got to the point that Draco would sneak into Lacrymosa's room at night and they'd sleep in shifts with one of them awake at all times keeping watch. They were becoming very close now. One night Draco didn't come over. He'd fallen asleep on accident and around 2 am, Lacrymosa was woken up by her phone ringing. It was him and he sounded terrified. "Can I come over? " he'd asked. She agreed of course and within 20 minutes, Draco was on her porch roof tapping at her window. Lacrymosa let him in and he rushed into her arms. "I spoke to it" he whispered. She pulled away quickly to look at his face. He was serious. "What?!" She asked. He nodded closing his eyes. Lacrymosa guided him to her bed and they laid beside each other. She held him in her arms as he explained. "I caught it in the act" he said. "I woke up when I felt a presence beside my bed so I opened my eyes and...I heard a laugh" Lacrymosa held her breath as he spoke. She wanted him to explain and feared he'd stop if she made a noise. "I'll spare you the details but it said that hurting yourself is an unspoken contract with it. Whatever this is... it doesn't like that we stopped cutting ourselves. It's trying to renew that urge inside of us to make us start up again and the only way to make it stop is to continue cutting...or cut someone else" He stopped and looked into Lacrymosa's face. "Each life we take..." he whispered "will give us 2 weeks". They lay there in silence for what seemed like an eternity. "I can't cut myself again. I can't. I'm already too cut up" she finally said. "Me too" "But I can't kill someone else! " "Me either" "So..." "So... what now?" Silence again. "Who would you off anyways? You know... if we did it" he asked. Lacrymosa thought a moment." Oh she knew who. She knew 2 people actually. Draco was homeschooled but he had a few names as well. "I know who" she said. "But let's think on it. Sleep here from now on. That should keep us safe for now". They stared into each other's eyes for a moment before their lips touched. That's when they realized... they were more than friends. They'd come to love each other very much. It had happened quickly but neither of them had ever had someone they cared about as much as they cared for each other. Together they could get through anything. "I love you Lacrymosa Tea" he whispered. "I love you too Draco Riley". Every night for the next six months, Draco snuck into Lacrymosa's room not to keep watch but to sleep beside her... and all was well. No blood. No cuts. They thought they'd found a loophole. For those six months, they were the happiest they'd ever been. This had to be why they were being left alone by the entity that cut them. Love was stronger than whatever it was. They did everything together now. They'd even met each others families and Lacrymosa felt that one day they may be joined. She shared this thought with Draco and he'd laughed, hugged her, and said "wait for me will you? That's my job to ask you". They both graduated High School and celebrated their 18th birthdays (which were only weeks apart). They made plans for the future and even began to forget about their ordeal. They shouldn't have forgotten. One morning at the end of the six months, Lacrymosa woke up beside Draco as usual. Her eyes still closed, she smiled as she rested her head on his shoulder and snuggled up closer to him. But something was wrong. He was cold. She opened her eyes and immediately saw blood. All over the walls. All over the ceiling. She sat up and looked down at herself. She was full of blood but it wasn't all hers. She turned to Draco. She would have thought he was just sleeping except that he was an ugly shade of blue and he was covered in blood. His shirt was ripped open and carved into his stomach was "no loopholes" The next few days were a blur. Her grandparents were confused as to why he'd been in her bed, the police interrogated her about how he'd died beside her and she hadn't noticed, but they didn't ask about the message carved into his body... it was as though they couldn't see it. She didn't say a word. She didn't know what to say... she became catatonic. She was checked out and after seeing her cuts, she was stitched up and taken to a mental hospital. She missed Draco's funeral of course but that hardly mattered now. The thing... whatever it was... had taken Draco from her. For days she was in that hospital. Waking up with fresh cuts that were immediately stitched up. The staff were clueless as to how she was getting them and by the end of the week, she was covered in ugly black stitches... she now resembled Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas. Even in her face. Draco's parents visited her. Pleading for information... asking if she'd done it. She didn't speak. All she could do was cry and shake her head. They eventually left empty handed. Lacrymosa hadn't spoken a word since the morning she lost Draco. One day she was sitting in her room staring at the wall when she noticed a brick that was loose. She pulled it out and found that someone had hidden a knife inside. Suddenly she heard footsteps and quickly hid the knife under her mattress. She had a visitor... her mother. She strode into the room and sat down in a chair. "I got out" she said. Something in Lacrymosa snapped. Draco was put in the back of her mind for a minute and all she could think of was the things her mother had done. Everything Holly had done. All the reasons she started cutting in the first place. "They said you wouldn't speak...I hoped you'd talk to me at least. " she sighed. "You look awful". Lacrymosa stayed silent as her mother continued to talk. She yelled at her for not talking, blamed her for "that boys" death, and of course for putting her in jail. Lacrymosa couldn't stand the look on her mother's face. She was getting angrier and angrier the longer they sat there. She stood up and so did her mother. She probably thought her daughter was going to hug her or something but as she took a step closer, Lacrymosa swiftly made a move for the knife and slit her mother's throat. Dropping to her knees, her eyes pleaded for help. But her daughter just stabbed each eye... and walked away. Lacrymosa walked through the hospital slashing the throats of patients and staff alike. She swore she heard the chords of a Lacrymosa playing and began to hum along. How she walked all the way home in a now bloody hospital gown is a mystery. No one was home when she got there and she went straight up to her room... to where she'd last seen Draco and began to cry. For the first time in weeks, she spoke. Just one word. "Draco". Two weeks after the Greenleaf City post reported on the New Hope Hospital Massacre, it reported on the death of a recent High School graduate named Holly Hebert. Her throat had been slashed just as the victims at the hospital had but the word "bully" was carved into her arm. She wouldn't be the last.

[musical-broken-heart]

Fools

Peter's Prov

May was in the hospital and only a few more days to live. I was happy though. She lived and she was happy. Before anyone starts thinking that my life will become a fairy tale and becomes better it will but not the way you think. Tony won't adopt me and I be a Stark so get it out of your head!

Once May goes I'm moving in with my mother's younger brother. He lives in London and got married but lost his wife, who was seven months, to a car accident. He called to ask if my mother was alright. That was a week after she died. I only met him once which was at the graveyard.

"Parker!" I heard Flash yell from behind me. Sighing I turned around to face him. "Have you ever realized how much you sound Draco Malfoy?" I asked not thinking. He scowled and grabbed my shirt ready to punch me. His face instantly fell when he looked into my eyes. Letting go he looked almost sad for me. I hated it and pushed passed him.

"Peter I'm sorry about May!" he said. I stopped and just looked at him. "Don't fucking give me that shit right now Eugene!" He looked shocked at the sudden outburst from the kid who was meant to be shy and easy prey.

Reaching out to try and calm the younger person I slapped his hand away. "I hate sympathy Eugene and I don't need more, especially from you!" I said through my teeth.

He backed away and I thought I went too far until a hand grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. A wicked smile fell down upon me and the face to whom it belonged had unforgiving eyes of torture and hate.

"U-uncle John. I didn't think you would be here this early." I said cussing myself for stuttering. His smile turned to a scowl and I knew what was coming. He wouldn't! Not in front of all these people.

Grabbing my arms I winced at the pain trying to get out of his grasp but nothing I did worked. Taking me into an empty room he threw me against the desks. Walking over to me I tried to crawl away but he grabbed my wrist twisting it. Screaming out in pain I curled up as he repeatedly kicking me in the stomach causing me to cough up blood.

No ones Prov

"Get the hell up and put on a smile! We're leaving. Then we can play a little game. Remember our game, Pete?!"  John said grabbing his nephew by the hair. "Y-yes Uncle J-John," Peter said. John growled and slammed the boys face into the desk. "Dumb shit! What did I say about stuttering?!" He screamed in the boys face.

Tears streamed down his face as he was dragged out of the room children gathering after hearing the screams. "Peter!" Ned yelled running up to his friend. "He's fine. Just upset about leaving." John said patting the boys back as though he cared.

~time Skip~

"Please don't. I don't wanna play!" ( who knows the creepypasta this is based on?) Nothing Peter said stopped the man who pushed the boy onto the bed touching him and licking his neck going down to his stomach then further down. "S-stop! I-I don't wanna p-play anymore!" Peter moaned struggling to get out of the man's grasp.

"Now now Pete what have I said about stuttering?" he asked evil running in his voice. "It makes me seem weak and not like a man." Peter chocked out through tears. A crooked smile fell on Johns' face. "Good boy. Very good. I'll let you rest for the night. Tomorrow you go back to school and if anyone hears about this you will regret it." Peters uncle growled before leaving the room.

Peter's Prov

I don't know what to do. This wasn't the first time he has done this. He did it when I was 6 years old. Just like now I was terrified to tell anyone about it.

Maybe I should tell Mr Stark? But he could go too far as well! I don't hate my uncle. Maybe it's my fault that all this happens to me. "Peter, you have an incoming call from Tony would you like new to answer?" Karen asked. I sighed and agreed.

"Kid I heard about school. So you're leaving for London when?" He asked. I winced at the thought of living the rest of my life with him. Thinking Mr Stark didn't notice I smiled. "Hey, Pete you alright? You seem down. Wanna stop but the tower!" He asked.

The truth was I did but I knew I had to get back. Who knew what would happen if I got back late. "Alright kid. See you soon." He said then hung up. I went home terrified of what the future had in store for Monte with muy Parker Luck and all.

Tony's Prov

He didn't seem like himself. Something was off. "Friday! Get Karen to record everything that's happening around Peter for the next twenty-four hours!"

"Of course sir! I have contacted Karen and told her without mister Parkers knowledge." My AI said. I nodded and went to eat.

The next morning people crowded around me telling me there was something I had to see. School was halfway over for Peter yet Natasha said that someone called him out to talk and he hasn't been seen since.

"FRIDAY! Show me the footage from last night to right now fast!" I said. She didn't answer but a video appeared of Peter cowering in a corner begging his uncle not to play just to go to school. He walked to school jumpy and on the edge and I started to worry about what was going on.

At school, he seemed off. Just walking around terrified of the adults. Not talking seems to be thinking of something else. A few minutes of this as I look for Peter in the school kids and teachers looking at me I have to ignore the comments and stares and need to focus.

A man in the video grabs Peter. Takes him outside the school. He sees the robot. The screen is black. "Mr Stark that man is Peters Uncle. Uncle John. Peter seems generally scared of him. He wasn't really smiling today and I asked what was wrong. He started crying saying he couldn't tell but he was reliving what happened when he was 6. I thought about what he told me and when we were six he said someone made him play a game and touched him." Ned said from behind me.

I clenched my teeth hearing this and asked what happened. "I-I don't know. I was in class with MJ." Ned said. I could hear the guilt in his voice and patted his shoulder. People started the crowd and someone yelled. "That man! John! He came into class saying he needed to talk to Peter outside." The boy named Flash said.

I didn't care to scold him for all the times he brought hell to my kid's life. Walking out of the building I saw John walking away from the school. I tackled him to the floor. "Where is Peter?!" I yelled. I shook his head and I yelled it again. "O-over there! He told! I heard he told his friend! I punished him!" He screamed. I threw him into the arms of two adults telling them not to let him out of their sight.

Walking around the building with MJ, Ned, and Flash following me we a horror. Peter was lying on the floor wounds on his head in which blood dripped down his face which pained me for it looked as though it was going into his eyes.

Picking him up I bandaged up his wounds and let him rest for the next few days. When he woke up he smiled when he saw me. "When your ready tell me what happened."

He nodded and sat up. "Right now?" I asked. "Yea," he said looking down.

"Uncle John found out I told Ned what he did to me. He came to school saying he needed me out back. Leaving the classroom he grabbed me and dragged me outside of the school. He said that I didn't play the game correctly. That I needed to be punished. I tried to get away but he was too strong and he threw me against the wall and picked up a stone-throwing it at my head knocking me out." Peter cried.

My jaw tightened as he told the story. "T-tony. Don't hurt him. I wanna talk to him first." Peter said. I hesitated but agreed.

Peters Prov Next day at school (is a thunderstorm outside and my little cousin is scared. I told her not to worry Jess just her uncle Thor making sure she's alright )

I'm glad Tony agreed to let me handle this. A smile on my face as I waited for my uncle inn the empty classroom. Muy spider senses were telling me two things; h-he was close and many people were watching from the hallway and windows. But I could see that anyway.

The door opened and in walked that man. "P-peter listen I lost a lot-" he began but I cut him off. "You lost a lot? I lost more than you and because of YOU!" I yelled. He stepped back and nodded. I sighed. "Don't you remember, uncle John? I played your game. You hurt me!" I growled. " P-peter you're meant to be dead!" He managed to say. "I know. You made sure of that. But Mr Stark saved me." I said now sitting on the desk ready to walk over to the man.

"Hey hey now! I just wanted to be sure you played the game right I never meant to to hurt yeh!" He said quickly. I got up and walked over to him smiling knowing everyone in my class was watching plus Tony. They could hear as well.

"Well I wanna play my game now. Do you wanna play with me?" I asked. His back its against the wall. "That boy told me you never stand up for yourself. This is all in my head!"

"That boy it's watching right now. And if it's all in your head than you won't feel this!" I said grabbing his arm and twisting it and breaking it. He fell to the ground in pain holding his now broken arm.

"You little shit! How the hell did you do that?!" He screamed. E want the only to scream. Outside I heard a few firms scream and MJ shout go Peter! I chuckled. "Funny you mention hell. You'll be going there soon." I hummed.

"What are you?" He asked. I knealed down and lifted his head. "I was Spiderman but then you happened. Now I am a monster of shadows. I am what you made me!" I yelled picking him up off the floor. Throwing him against a few desks I looked at his pocket knife.

"You know. I've always hated what you kept around you uncle John. Sup many sharp objects." I chuckled throwing it at him. Tony ran through the door trying to stop my madness but that man was going to pay! He ran out of three room slamming against the lockers and hitting the ground.

I don't care how many people are watching I webbed him to the locker only by the door so he couldn't got away. He was crying. "P-peter. Star dust! Please. I'm sorry." He cried. I o inn his eyes to see no truth behind what he was saying.

"Not yet you aren't!" I searched twisting his other arm. Screaming out in pain his bleeding body fell limp to the floor as he only shook with a sobbing noise. "But your about to be!" I said calmly as I raised the knife uncle Loki once gave me.

Great and pain were now in the man's eyes as I stabbed the dagger through his heart. "P-peter?" He cocked out one last time before closing his eyes. I laughed. "You lost uncle John. You weren't playing the game right. Now! You know how it felt when I lost your game.

My clothes now dripped with blood along with the sound on my face that he caused! Feeling my heart I no longer felt the pump. Was... Was I dead? I looked around and there was no proof of me only John and his peculiar death. I guess we were both fool's.

[wilonwriting]

In the beginning...

Growing up, I never fancied myself a writer. I was an artist, a cartoonist. I drew pages upon pages of monsters, each one named. I had stacks of paper my dad brought home from work with useless printed tax forms on the back and I’d drew on the reverse side, making comic books about anthropomorphic fruit and my stuffed animals. I guess the stories were there, behind the pictures, but that was making comics, not writing.

The first real moment of recognition was in eighth grade, when we were tasked with writing a story for some long forgotten reason. Mine was a morbid tale of a man who was dreamed of dying in a fire at work, only to wake up and relive the events. It was my own personal take on the old tales of people dreaming of their demise. The most common story is of a man who awakes in the middle of the night and goes to his window, where he sees a man with a gaunt face dragging a coffin up his driveway. He stops bright below the man’s window, looks up at him and says, “Room for one more,” before the man awakes in fright. He later sees the man again, working as the elevator operator at a high-rise. The operator tells him “room for one more” on the crowded elevator, and the man flees, not looking back even as everyone starts panicking because the elevator just plummeted to the ground floor and everyone died.

Very famous story. Anyone who read horror books for kids back then knew it.

My teacher asked permission to submit my story to the school newsletter. At the end of the year, I won an award for creative writing because of it. Even then, I didn’t see myself as a writer. I wrote a story, people liked it, I went on with my life.

I took a creative writing course in high school. It was just for fun, beat some of the other options, and the teacher was very mellow. He didn’t mind me building a journal full of stories in which my unwitting classmates --friends, I should clarify-- met untimely ends, often at my own hand. A journal of death would not go over well in this day and age, but in the mid 90s nobody thought anything of it, nor should they have. It was simply my outlet for creating visceral fiction. And even then, acing the course, working with my best friend to make a mock-up newspaper full of wild stories of werewolves and decapitated frisbee players, I was not a writer. I was a programmer then. My dream was to make animation for Lucasfilms or PIXAR. That or work in video games.

So when did I become a writer in my mind? I guess that would be in January of 2011. I was living in the top apartment of a duplex with my wife and two baby girls. It was a late evening, and I had been doing laundry in the basement. I had to descend two flights of stairs at the back of the house to get to this dimly-lit, damp and creepy basement where the washing machine was. On my way up with a load in my arms, I glanced out the window of the back door into the yard. It was dark and snowy. In my mind I thought, “Why did I look out there? What if I looked out the window and there was some terrifying person standing right there at the door looking back at me?”

It reminded me of a story I read when I was little by D.B. Stamper in the book Tales For the Midnight Hour. It was called “The World’s Strangest Jigsaw Puzzle” and was about a woman buying this puzzle and then putting it together in her apartment and realizing the picture is of her in her room, only there’s an inhuman face in the window behind her.

This scared the crap out of me, and I ran the rest of the way upstairs with my laundry and slammed the door behind me. But it also set something off in me: I had this idea... what if I wrote a story about that feeling? What if I wrote a story and shared it with people online about looking out my back window and seeing someone staring back at me?

So I hopped online. A month prior, my nephew had shared a story with my other nephew on Facebook, and I remembered that the site he had linked to seemed to be for people posting about horror-related stuff. It was called “NoSleep” and was a subreddit on Reddit, though at the time I didn’t understand what any of that was. To me it was a forum for horror, and I had a horror story I wanted to share. So I sat down, created an account, and spent an hour or two writing a story about being tormented by the ghost of a woman I inadvertently invited into my house when I saw her in my back yard. After the initial sighting, I discovered her in my daughter’s closet, staring at me silently, then saw her standing in her bedroom door, in the hall, at the door to my own bedroom... it terrified me even as I wrote it. This ghost quietly getting ever closer. It was a combination of that story by Stamper and another from an episode of Amazing Stories starring Sam Waterston where he saw a creepy man sneaking up behind him in every reflection. When the story was done, I submitted it and went to sleep.

I awoke the following morning to a tidal wave of responses. Everyone wanted to know more. People were writing me private messages with advice on how to deal with the ghost, or asking me where I lived, offering their services as exorcists or ghost hunters. I had not expected such a response. That’s when I discovered that Nosleep was not accustomed to people posting stories like that. Most anyone did was write about real life visits to some haunted stretch of road and hearing some spooky sounds. The majority of posts were links to creepy videos, reposts of creepypastas, or discussions of favorite horror books. A large number of people though my story was real, or at least that I believed it was.

Afraid that I had broken a rule against posting fiction, instead of confessing to it, I doubled down, writing updates every day about what happened next in my continuing struggle against this female specter. I started getting into it, actually enjoying the responses and the thoughts. People begged me to keep updating. Someone linked to my story on another subreddit called BestOf that shares only the best stuff on Reddit.

When I finally admitted that the entire thing was made up --in part because I was tired of continuing the story and in part because people were threatening to call child welfare services on me for things I claimed happened to my daughter in the tale-- things blew up even further. Some people were angry that I tricked them. Others loved it. Almost immediately, other people started sharing stories in a similar style: first-person, acting as if the events are completely true. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, and there was non-stop imitation going on. Within a couple months, the NoSleep moderators declared that the future of the subreddit was strictly for stories exactly like mine. They must be believable within reason, and they must be treated as if true. The subreddit has remained this way ever since, blossoming into a default forum for the site and having millions of subscribers Most people who frequent there now wouldn’t be able to tell you where it all began, but those who have been around for a long while know.

And I know. And it’s a good feeling, even if the majority of those millions don’t know my name.That was the day I knew I was a writer.

[soaringlanddormitory]

📣 Takashi/Ichiro, 🎉 Emile/Kaoru, 🎃 Yoko/Killian, 💢 Tori/Naoki :3

Thank you for sending these in!! I love it all omg

📣 - yell at my muse.

Yesterday, Manami came in to Takashi’s room and talked to him about how she was able to be “friends” with another Eizan and her brother felt conflicted on how to respond to this. He always warned her about them, but she’d always tell him that they were only misunderstood and she never followed what he said. She may have been one of the nicest people in the planet- but this made it an easier target for the Eizans if they were planning something.

Takashi didn’t feel like meeting any of them so he decided to avoid them at all cost. He didn’t go inside the Elite Ten room even once today, and he didn’t even bother in going to places where he believed Shigeo would be. He was too busy thinking about his sister and the chances of her being mistreated by an Eizan- and he didn’t want to see them at the moment.

However, he forgot that one of them always did whatever he wanted as he was a delinquent. It was the end of school and he spotted a male with glasses on the streets, screaming at some students he recognized. Takashi mentally slapped himself. “Alright Takashi, this isn’t your problem… wHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU’RE THEIR UPPERCLASSMEN! YOU GOTTA DO SOMETHING!”

He snapped out of his thoughts and walked over to the group. “Hey Volcano-Head, are you erupting again for the dumbest reason called nothing again?” Takashi playfully asked, even having a little smirk on his face. If it was his time to bring out insults- he always acted calm. He gestured for his underclassmen to leave the place and they began running away.

Ichiro began to twitch. “What the fuck did you just call me, runt?!” He yelled at the blonde, angered at the fact he decided to insult him the moment he spoke. “I can punch your face right now so I can make you shut the fuck up!” He hissed at the male and Takashi moved backwards, raising his hands in the air.

“Oh we have a badbutt over here.” He said these words in a very mocking way. “I swear to Zeus and to all the divine beings above- do you actually think a punch will scare me, Volcano head?!” He scream back, a bit irritated by the nicknames he was given. Seriously, should it always be about his height?! “ven my neighbor’s Pomeranian can scare me more!”

“Of course you’ll be scared of that dog, it’s probably because that dog matches your height, you bitch!” He threw another insult at Takashi and Takashi began clenching his fists in anger. “That dog probably thinks you’re a match to it because of you’re as tiny as it!”

“Well, if you met that dog, it’ll probably think you’re one of its kind because you’re a pancake bitch!” Takashi countered. “Oh wait. Oops. You know, gotta make the pun because female dog but… I meant you’re a pancake Medusa!” He went back to insulting and Ichiro’s face began getting red.

“You fucker-!”

There were a couple of people seen watching the two fight, and one of them was Takashi’s brother who was already going to the place to pull his brother back.

🎉 - celebrate with my muse.

No person who was surprised the moment someone knocked the door three times then opened it. A male who held his guitar with a bright smile on his face came in, looking excited. “Hello! I brought my guitar for the celebration!” He said excitedly, and a person pushed the person out of the way to see Emile.

“Hey there, Guitar Hero! I’m glad you came!” It was no other than Kaoru, a person who considered the visitor as one of his closest friends. “Here to celebrate with us?” He grinned, showing the same amount of excitement as the person who just came. The person who was pushed grumbled before slapping the back of Kaoru harshly. “Ow! Oh right, sorry Tatsuya-senpai!”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Emile began laughing slightly, already used to the fun interaction between the dorm mates. “Of course I’d come! I can’t miss a celebration with mi amigo!” He was walking inside and he began closing the door behind him. “I also want to know the details... What is the celebration?” Even if he was invited, he was never informed on why they were celebrating.

“It’s a small celebration because one of my lovely dorm mates got to pass her exams so she won’t get expelled.” He informed him. “I wanted to ask if you could play your guitar as I sing so we could make the day brighter! Because, y’know- A great guitarist and a pretty good singer always makes a day better.”

“I’m so down to do that!” He responded and he went to the usual place he sat on. “Just name the song and I’ll happily play it!” Even if he wasn’t part of the dorm- he always felt a part of them because of how they acted around him. It was as if he was one of the people who actually stayed there and he felt so happy. It was even better that they acted like an audience to a musician.

“Thanks a lot, Guitar Hero! Can’t make the day as special without you!” The male from the dorm grinned and sat beside Emile. “Even your personality makes the day better, damn! You’re so amazing that you’re able to do so much things by your presence alone!”

The person who was deemed as a “Guitar Hero” by Kaoru felt his heart warm up and he couldn’t control the smile that was forming on his lips. “Thank you so much-! I really appreciate all your words, mi amigo!” He thanked the male and be started to strum his guitar. “So... what is the perfect song to start this celebration?”

🎃 - attempt to scare my muse.

The whole house was dark and this really confused the ginger haired male. Was the power out? He decided to try and look for the generator to see if there was a problem with it. The problem was... he couldn’t really see a thing. It felt like he was in a horror movie... Maybe it was one of those days where he loved his interest in the horror genre- at least he would know what to do when the worst things happen.

He was moving around the house aimlessly, but he was able to memorize the area of the house by now. He felt so relieved that he was able to remember where the flashlight was located or else he’d be doomed in a situation like this. He got the flashlight from the drawer and pulled it out of the drawer. “There we go.” He says this to himself before he turns it on.

If he had one wish right now, it would be that there was no serial killer in his house. He’d rather meet a ghost then a man with a knife. It wasn’t because he couldn’t defend himself- trust me, he could. But it was because if anyone were to die from them inside the house- the owner of the house might be scarred for life and he didn’t want that.

He continued to search for the generation but he felt something moving on the ground and he ended up flashing the light on the direction where he heard the crawling. “In times like this, you shouldn’t panic or else you’d be dead.” He mumbled and before he continued to walk- he felt his heart stop the moment someone grabbed him from behind as red orbs sparked from the dark.

“Do you want to play~?” The voice was high in pitch, and it sounded much too happy to feel comfortable. A giggle came from the person behind him and Killian only paused for a minute before he turned off the flashlight. Even if he had to experience such a scary encounter, he was still clever.

“Yoko. Did you actually get a voice changer?” That was the only thing he says before he held the arms wrapping around him. “And attempt to scare me with it?” He asked once again and she only released him so he could turn on the generator. Once the lights was on, he saw the female pouting slightly.

“Hm. I actually thought that would get you.” Yoko opened her eyes before grinning. “But I guess you’re too smart to be scared~!” She walked to him before poking his cheek. “Your heart stopped for a moment, but after a few seconds, you were hardly even scared.”

Killian sighed out of relief. “I’m just happy that it’s just you... However, if it weren’t me and you did this- I do think they’d be terrified out of their lives.” He explains and Yoko laughs happily.

“Will they? Now I have new idea for my next CreepyPasta story!”

“Did... Did you make me a test subject to know if your idea is believable?”

“That and I wanted to see if I could actually scare you!”

“Well... At least I helped you in some way.”

💢 - snarl/growl at my muse.

It wasn’t the perfect day to meet Tori. She was in a bad mood because this morning, Daiki decided to annoy her to death. When she finally arrived in school, she had to meet Ichiro who never gave her a break from being angry. The day was horrible and no one could blame her for her bad mood. She didn’t want to see any nuisance for the rest of the day...

But maybe fate didn’t allow this to happen. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Naoki in the opposite direction, looking at her with a smirk on his face. God, what did she do to deserve this? “Tori Isshiki. A pleasant seeing you here.” Naoki was a bit tolerable to her- until he speaks more than just those lines. “I didn’t expect to see you here, are you not trying to improve your skills and decided to roam around instead?”

Tori immediately growled at his comment. Did he actually think it was the words she was looking for now? Did he think that she wanted to hear those words from someone like him?! He was wrong. “What was that, Eizan? I couldn’t hear your bullshittery.” She wasn’t having any of this. Not today. Not ever.

Naoki’s evil smirk remained on his face and he only ended up chuckling. “Maybe you just couldn’t hear the truth.” He stated this before he continued to talk. “I would have expected you to be back in your dorm or cooking elsewhere so you could prove to everyone that you’re better than any of the Eizans.”

Tori didn’t hold back any of her anger, tired of all his insults. “Of course I’m better than any of you! A lot of you are just pieces of shit who can’t do anything but talk about nonsense!” She snapped at him and Naoki began glaring. “Thinking about insults and doing all the barks so everyone could hear- all of you are no bite at all! It’s fucking annoying!”

The two were now having a dark aura and their death glares were aimed at each other. “How rude. Actually thinking that of us. Miss Isshiki, I hope you know well that we could do much more things than you actually imagine. You just never get to see that because you’re too much of a coward to actually risk something.”

She had enough of this and she only walked pass him, even shoving him away from her. “Die.” She mumbles, even looking behind her for a moment. “And if you do think I’m a coward I want to tell you I’m not. I’m ready to face you in a shkugeki any day.” With this, she walked away while ignoring everything the male added to their conversation.

[blooferlady86]

The Park By Night

So I am very good at spooking myself and creeping myself out. I’ve never thought of myself as a creative writer, but there are a couple of things that really catch my imagination. I decided to do a thing and actually get something written down. Yes, I take constructive criticism. No, I don’t know how to make something readable on Tumblr, so I apologize if this is a mess. If I can figure out a way to make a story out of it, I’ll write another one on the strange sounds my bus radio makes when I’m driving it to school at 5:30 AM and there’s no one else on the road. 

It’s probably barely a story. It’s definitely not a terribly well-edited draft. It’s not even really beyond a rough draft. I know I have some tenses that disagree, but hey, it’s late, and I just finished a spooky walk through the park.

Anyways. Without further ado: A little creepypasta I should probably have just kept to myself:

The Park By Night

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

“Well, I am the pinnacle of human achievement, so I don’t blame you.”

Eleanor leans over the kitchen counter, green eyes staring deeply into mine, reaches gently for my face, and painfully flicks my ear. “Don’t be an ass when I’m trying to be supportive. You’ve done really well. This time last year you were walking with a cane.”

I snag her hand and give her knuckles a gentle kiss. “I only give you a hard time because I know you love it. It means a lot to me, you saying that. It really does. I wouldn’t have made it this far without your help.”

“I’m not the fitness buff. I’ve just kept you company on the couch.”

“That’s not true, and you know it. You helped. Every day. I’m just glad I can finally get back to work full time, and anyone willing to put up with me moping around the house for this long deserves a medal. Or at least a vacation.”

She laughs sharply and eyes the lunches we’ve prepared for the day: cups of noodles and whatever fruit was on sale this week to stave off a vitamin deficiency. “Maybe now that you’re full time again, we’ll be able to stop eating like undergrads and start saving up for a weekend at the lake.”

I give her hand one more kiss. “Sounds like a deal. See you this afternoon.”

It had been a long year. And Nell deserved way more than a weekend away at a lake. After a pallet of lumber crushed my leg right above my knee, I had only been able to go back to work about six months ago. Six months of painful hobbling about in the mornings, to go home after lunch and then do my physical therapy and exercise. The woman was a saint. Things were financially tight even before my accident; neither of us were exactly bringing in massive sums. Her retail job, my warehouse gig, they kept the pantry full and the rent paid. My time away from work drained the savings account, and even getting back to part time felt like a windfall. She didn’t have to tell me how stressful that time had been. I didn’t need to hear both sides of the phone calls with her mother to know my mother-in-law’s thoughts. “If he only had a college degree. He’d be working in an office, this would never have happened, and you’d be a homeowner, not renting some shack.”

She didn’t care. She was my therapist, counselor, and friend through the whole process. Unlike me, she was never one for regular exercise, but she walked me through the strength building routines assigned by my therapist, kept me well fed on the scant amount of money we had, and never made me feel ashamed of having to ask for help. The first day we were able to take a walk through the park together, I felt like a new man. Me, leaning heavily on my cane and her with one arm around my waist, swaying with my lopsided gait to keep our shoulders close, I could finally see the end of the tunnel. 

It became my regular exercise spot, and eventually Nell was able to confidently let me limp around the 2 mile loop fenced in by chain link that we had discovered in our neighborhood. She generally sat and read while I completed my lap. Eventually, when I was cleared for driving, she was able to get back to her hobbies at home. She had seen me walking with enough confidence that she was sure I wouldn’t fall and be stuck on the hot pavement of the walking trail without her.

The park was simple, but well maintained. A two mile paved path encircled a lightly forested area along with some kickball fields. There was a green belt with a creek running behind the park. I’d made up my mind to tackle that hike when my limp had been fully conquered. With work being full-time again, that would have to wait for the weekend. 

I threw some pasta in a pot when I arrived home that afternoon. Meatless spaghetti. My specialty. It would be ready by the time Nell finished her shift. I did my stretches, some laundry, and some dishes, the only chores I could do without painfully regretting it the next day. We exchanged stories about asshole customers and asshole managers over our meager meal of bargain pasta. 

“Are you going for a walk this afternoon? I was thinking of bringing a book.”

“Not this afternoon. A: It’s boiling outside, and B: I need a couple hours of vegetating before my leg is ready to move again. You’d think it would remember how to work all day.”

“‘Don’t forget you’re human’” she quips in a sing-song tone.

“I’m going to forget you’re human if you quote my therapist’s posters again.”

“Tell you what, if you go this evening, I’ll have an ice pack and a beer ready for when you get back.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

The park is never busy even on weekends. It’s tucked away amongst a bunch of single family homes, well off the main street. During the day, it’s a pleasant breath of oxygen in a crowded suburbia. When I pull the car up, an hour after the sun has gone down, I hardly recognize it. I’ve never been here at night; I’m impressed by how well lit the walking paths are in the little neighborhood greenspace. 

Earphones in, music on, I begin my 2 mile walk. I’m making good time for someone with two rods and four pins in his femur. 60 minutes is my record, and I was on the couch for two days after that, with Nell providing me ice packs and disapproving looks until I promised to go easier on myself. 

At the quarter-mile sign, I stop to stretch. My calves are in a constant rebellion these days. I hear a tinny rattling, and quickly pop one earbud out to see if I’ve got a short in the wiring. The rattling, though a gentle noise, gets louder when I unplug my ear, not softer. I look quickly back towards the start of the path, but the bright lights illuminating the path make it hard to see beyond the pavement. I realize what I’m hearing is the chain link fencing, as if it’s been lightly jostled. A cat, I tell myself, or a possum squeezing under the fence. They’re nocturnal, right? And I bet they’d love to get to investigate these trash cans. The gentle rattle dies away, I finish my count to 30 on my bad leg and set off again.

You really can’t see anything out here at night, I think to myself. The familiar path is illuminated with frequent overhead lamps, which I am quite thankful for. A stumble on a dark walkway would leave me hobbling home with my tail between my legs to explain to Nell that I’ve overdone it again. Cue another “inspirational quote” from my physical therapist. Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I squint across the park at another late-night walker with their dog, finishing the last of their two miles. The lit path is like a band of light snaking through the dark trees, only inky blackness past the light poles. My attention is caught by a figure standing across the park, silhouetted between me and the path the dog-walker just left. I blink, and the two dark legs of the figure come into focus and become the sign post for the one and a half mile mark, the torso a water fountain right behind it. I shake my head, continue walking. Half a mile down.

At the three-quarter mile, I have to stop and stretch again. Maybe it was a mistake to come out for a full walk during my first week back at the warehouse. Tomorrow will be a rest day. As I’m bending down to grab my toe, I get another glimpse of something on the edge of my vision. I snap back upright, wincing as I do so. I squint into the dark space behind me. The same figure, standing in a dark pool of shadow by the entrance to the park. This time I can’t seem to focus and see a sign instead of a pair of legs. The torso and head remain a torso and head. A chill runs down my neck as some part of my subconscious chooses this moment to decide that the figure is most definitely looking in my direction. “All right,” Nell’s voice rings out in my head,  “you’re nearly halfway done and you’re not the only one in the park tonight. No problem. Get today’s walk over with, and next time they pass a street light, you’ll see it’s just another late visitor.” 

Begrudgingly, I turn my back on the shadow and continue my labored hike. When I’ve gotten one mile finished, the path make a U turn and begins to weave back through the trees towards the parking lot. I take advantage of the wide view of the park to look for my fellow late night ambler who spooked me. 

No one.

As I walk, I scan the park starting at the gate, following the path. If they’re walking, I’ll see them. The walking path is the only damn thing you can see in the park, after all. Another metallic rattle has me ripping out my earbuds and I see the chain link fence around the three-quarter mark vibrating in a wind that doesn’t seem to touch the trees. There. Again. The dark outline of a figure, not walking on the path, but standing just outside the flood of light cast by the lamp. Once again, something deep and primal tells me that its unseen eyes are on me. 

It’s enough. I don’t care if this is some teenager dicking around with the cripple clomping his way through his required 5,000 steps, I’m ready to be home, watching bad TV with my wife. I pick up the pace, striding as far as I can with each step to just make it back to the safety of my car. I’m glad I didn’t put the earbuds back in. It would have made it harder to hear the chain link start its  clatter again. As I round the corner to see the one and a quarter marker, I recognize the sound from when I was a kid and would run my hand along a fence in my yard. It’s getting louder.

I don’t turn my head. I very carefully avoid thinking about the quickly approaching clinking sound. I am studiously facing forward as I imagine the figure three lamps away, two lamps away, one lamp away, running long shadowy fingers across the metal fence. I huff and puff my way up to the next distance marker. The parking lot is ahead. I’m going home. 

Filled with the confidence that I’ve nearly crossed the finish line, I take a breath and risk a glimpse over my right shoulder. Nothing. The fence is still, the black shapes of the trees a comforting and familiar sight I recall from my walks in the sun. I take two steps, still looking behind me, when I feel a gentle, warm waft of air in my left ear, followed by a wheezing, rasping inhale of breath.

I’m running. I haven’t run in a year, but I am running now. As the gate comes into view, I feel something pop in my knee. If I’d had time to stumble and stagger, I would have, but the gasping, shaking thing is behind me, and I now I can smell an odor of decaying flesh, of corruption and rot. I push down the burning pain in my leg, and the nausea that threatens to make me double over. I train my eyes on my car and start counting the yards to get there. As I lumber gamely through the gate, I feel something catch at my shirt, and hear the wheezing breath growing louder, just behind me.

I spill into the brightly lit parking lot and throw myself into the car, pummeling the locks as I slam the door. Gripping the steering wheel tightly and closing my eyes tighter still, I listen for the death rattle breath that had followed me out of the park. Nothing. I hear a gentle clink of chain link fencing, and my eyes dart for the source. Still nothing. I turn on every light in my car and check the back seat just for my own sanity. Putting the car into gear and pulling out to the road as quickly as I can, I catch one more glimpse of a silhouette in the mirror. Snapping my head up, I once again see a signpost for the park materialize in place of the dark form I thought I’d seen. 

By the time I get home, I’ve almost convinced myself that the entire thing was my imagination. It’s been a busy week. I’m over-tired from being back at work. I went somewhere I wasn’t familiar with, heard some spooky noises, and panicked. I give Nell a hug, and go to take a long hot shower. I’d nearly convinced myself. I pulled my shirt over my head and almost missed the hand print on the back. A hand print with four long, thin, muddy fingers. 

The shirt goes straight into the garbage bin.

[ilovethetalkingclock]

Why I Stopped Watching Inanimate Insanity (CREEPYPASTA REWRITE)

NOTE: THIS IS NOT AN ACTUAL NOTE AND THIS IS NOT MY ORIGINAL IDEA. THIS FANFIC WAS BASED ON THE CREEPYPASTA ‘WHY I STOPPED WATCHING MLP’. (www.fimfiction.net/story/33551…) THSI STORY CONTAINS VIOLENCE AND DEATH. PLEASE SUPPORT THE ORIGINAL RELEASE. ENJOY.

Dear AnimationEpic

My name is Sonata Silverpen, sister of a fifteen-year old girl named Chrono Silverpen who is a huge fan of your show. Non-stop all she ever does is talk about season 3 of the Inanimate Insanity show and how it is the greatest thing on earth. I have watched a few episodes with her and I have to admit I have gotten hooked on it as well. Or at least I used to. I don't see the show the same way now-a-days.

Ever since she has started watching it she has asked for a YinYang doll, (her favorite character by the way.) I have tried to find one to buy for her at the store but so far I haven't found one or for that matter any Inanimate Insanity toys, I once asked one of the clerks when if ever you will have some, but she had no idea of what I was talking about, she had never heard of it. I have also looked online on Ebay and Etsy, but still haven't seen any toys from your show. Then again, it seems you never made them, as you only seem to sell shirts and song albums.

A few weeks ago Chrono brought home a MePhone4 vinyl figure she said she had found in the playground under the swing set. It was dirty with one of its legs ripped off. Someone had colored its screen black with a pen or marker and it had the strangest smile I had ever seen on a doll. It’s silly, and I don't know why I'm telling you this. but sometimes I feel like the doll hates me.

Chrono loves it and takes it everywhere with her. I can't imagine why she loves it so much, it's a broken toy, but it is her favorite. I tried cleaning it up but I have been unable to remove the black ink. She took it with her for a sleepover with her friend Login at his house a few weeks ago. I'm not sure what happened, but my sister can't come over there anymore.

I don't know everything that went on that night and from what little I do it has something to do with Chrono loaning her MePhone4 doll to her friend, when he went to bed and something happened with him and the toy during the night. It’s silly, I know, but the thing is Chrono has told me Login hasn't been to school since the sleepover. Something about that all he does is scream now-a-days and had to be placed into a hospital. I don't understand what all happened and I'm a little frightened of it.

I have caught my sister on more than a few occasions talking to it, and I'm a little creeped out. Sometimes it seems like the doll is listening and talking to her back, I know, kids can have imaginary friends, but she’s fifteen.

But that's not really what I wanted to write to you about, The reason I'm writing to you is because I don't like how your new episodes are going. They’re neither good or wholesome as when we started watching and to tell you the truth, they’re more than a little sick. I don't know how you can call it a kid's show. And If I ever figure out the schedule to it, I will make sure my sister never watches it again.

When we started watching Inanimate Insanity it was on Saturday mornings, then she seemed to watch it all the time. Whenever we go home from school, or when she wakes up in the morning and all through the day I will find it on. I'm not sure how they do it, but for almost a year now she watches Inanimate Insanity III at all hours of the day and night. It has gotten so bad that I started to block some tags on YouTube and watched TV, DVD’s, and Netflix more often from now on.

What's really upsetting is how the new episodes are going. AnimationEpic, I don't know what's wrong with you or the one that makes these shows but they’re downright evil. Only a twisted person would make something like this and truly like it.

I thought it was strange that it was on all the time but I didn't mind it. That all changed with the episode "Babby Ball", the one where Baseball encounters a vampiric clock and has his mind regressed to infancy. That was a horrible episode, which I didn't like how all the others laughed at Baseball and called him names for ‘getting his maturity drained.’ They kept on until Baseball started wailing loudly with no idea what anything was anymore while the other objects gleefully treated him like a small child.

I was so shocked when I watched it with her. Even more shocking was my sister’s reaction, just laughing and carrying on as if it was just another episode. This is the type of show you put on the air?

The next episode was the next one: "Alas Poor Suitcase" I remember the name of it and that was even worse than the other one. How Suitcase made a sandcastle and the others all hated it. Telling her she is a failure and her creations are terrible, no one likes her, and everyone wishes she was dead. The other objects tormented Suitcase until she literally flipped out. She started biting herself, ripping herself apart while she was laughing and crying at the same time. My god, it was awful. It was so bad I turned it off and I told my sister she wasn't allowed to watch it anymore.

It was disturbing how it didn't bother my sister at all. I talked to her about it later on and she told me the MePhone4 doll said Suitcase deserved it. Everything she does is stupid, no one likes her, and they all do wish she was dead. I was so stunned I took the doll away from her after that and wanted nothing to do with your show.

I thought the matter was closed, I threw the doll away and thought that was the end of it. But it wasn't.

The next day after dinner a new episode came on as me and Chrono watched a cartoon on Nickelodeon. I never seen the Inanimate Insanity show on TV before and this one was just as horrible as the others. Called "LimboPhone4" it was an episode where MePhone4 is trying to learn to play limbo, but he couldn't get it right. After his third try, the others get so mad at him they rip off one of his legs (just like the doll my sister had now that I think of it.) and threw him off a cliff. You can clearly see him hit the ground, along with hearing the sickening sound of MePhone4 cracking his skull and screen.

Every other episode after that MePhone4 has a peg leg and he acts much dumber. I don't get you people. Are guys mentally sick?

Like I said before as much as I tried to stop my sister from watching the show it still comes on all the time. and all the episodes are just as mean. "Pain-brush", when Paintbrush is given a cupcake full of glass and called names as they slowly and painfully die. "Black and White", how they trapped YinYang in a giant fish tank and filled it up with water until he drowned, all the while laughing as he screamed his head off.

How can you call yourself a kid friendly channel when you have trash like this on?

There are more episodes like this but I really don't want to get into it. I have forbidden my sister, who didn't seem to have minded it at all, from watching your Inanimate Insanity show anymore. She somehow got the doll back, don't ask me how, and calmly told me. "You made MePhone4 angry."

What that meant is beyond me. But she is my sister.

As you know this is my second letter to you about your show. I have attached your response to my first letter.

****

Dear Ms. Silverpen:

We thank you for your time to write to us about this, But we have never nor will at this point in time have any plans for “Inanimate Insanity III” and from what you have described in some of the episodes, I am not sure if this is some sort of joke from you or another person. You and your sister must have been watching a bootleg.

We are committed to family-friendly entertainment and merchandise, and we would never create horrific shows that would torment our viewers. If you can give us more information about this we will look into this.

Sincerely

AnimationEpic.

****

This is your show. It has to be! I see your icon on it every episode. Pictures taken of my screen with the show and your name on it have been attached to my letter to you.

Wait.

I can hear the show coming on in the back...

[flyba3]

Move-In Day pt. 2

A/N: Idk if this should be cute or spicy… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i kinda, maybe, probably wrote this while listening to creepypastas…..

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Reader x Junoflo

Summary: Y/N and Juno go on a lunch date, and get to know each other.

Word Count: 2292

“We are we are we artist baby

We are we are we artist ZICO” 

 was the first thing you heard as you woke up. While you searched for your phone, you realized that it was your alarm playing ‘ Artist ‘ by Zico, one of your favorite musicians. Once you finally felt your phone, you turned off the alarm while looking at the time. It was 8:30am on the dot. Luckily you didn’t start classes until next week, but it still puzzled you why you woke up this early in the morning. As you looked across the room at Monica, you prayed you didn’t wake her up. But to you surprise, she was already up looking at her phone and headphones on, so she probably didn’t hear your alarm. Today’s plan was to meet up with you friends, then meet up with Juno at around noon.

You were pretty excited to go out with him, but at the same time it was very nerve wracking because this was the first date you’ve EVER been on. Part of this was due to your lack of interest in dating, but majority of it was due to your lovely family. And the word lovely is meant to be used lightly. Ever since your high school days, someone in your family always took the opportunity to embarrass you in front of your male friends. Whether it be your mom, dad, or even your brother; it never failed. The brother part really hurt you since he was supposed to be your wingman.

The story you can remember most vividly was during your junior year winter break. One of your guy friends, Christian, invited you to the movies with a few of his friends from a different school. Christian said he would pick you up from the park near school, and you guys would meet up with the rest of his friends at the park. You told your parents and brother about your plans for the day, and they were all ok with it. Your parents made your brother drive you to the park and wait until Christian got there. While you guys drove to the park, your brother asked you a series of questions about whether or not you were dating Christian. Of Course you told him no, but he was convinced that Christian want to be with you even if you said the feelings weren’t mutual. Once you arrived, you saw Christian sitting on a bench. As you got out of the car about to greet your brother farewell, you saw he was getting out with you. When you both got to Christian, your brother pretended to be your boyfriend and started accusing Christian of trying to take his girl. Every time you would try to say something, your brother would cut you off. Eventually you told him to cut the crap and apologise to Christian for your brothers behavior. Your brother also apologised and offered to drive you to the theater. Thanks to your brother, you never went on a group date, which is still a date in his standards, with Christian again. But none of that matters now since you’re an adult.   

Before you got out of your bed, you chucked your small mermaid pillow at Monica to catch her attention. The pillow hit her arm, causing her to look up at you with a startled look on her face.

“Ohhhh,  child you got me shookth,” She said as she took off her headphones “ But what’s yup.”

“I just wanted to return a favor, and invite you out with me and my friends.” You told her as you made your way to the bathroom.

“Well lucky for you, I don’t have any plans today. So sure, I’ll hang out with you today.” Monica told you as she but her headphones back on.

When you were in the bathroom you washed your face, brushed your teeth, and took a shower. Once you finished bathing, you went to pick out an outfit for the day with juno in mind. You wanted to look good for him since he seems to be a fashionable guy. As you looked through your closet, you found the perfect outfit. You settled on a black crop top, black ripped jeans, red vans, topped off with an army print hoodie. You decided to put on minimal makeup, and you styled your hair in a neat high bun. As you looked at your phone, you saw that it was 10:15am. You saw that Monica was ready to go, when you saw her sitting at her desk.

“How are you... already ready?” you asked monica as you slightly tilted your head.

“Oh yea, I guess I should tell you that I prefer taking showers at night.” She said getting up from her chair about to get her purse.

“Alright, good shit. Since we’re both ready, I guess we can head out.” You told her heading to the door.

“So what’s the plan for the day?”   

“We’re gonna go my favorite place on campus… the music studio~” You answered in a sing song voice. As you guys were walking to the studio, Monica started asking about your convos with juno last night.

“I saw you talking to Sam last night. He must like you cause he tried to make himself known as Juno. Lol! That guy. So… are you guys gonna go on a date or something.” She asked in a teasing tone slightly nudging you.

“Actually… Sam asked me out on a lunch date later today.” You told her starting off shy progressing into an excited tone as you smiled brightly at her. Monica started to do a little dance as she entered the Campus Art building. Once you guys entered one of the studios, you saw your friends sitting in a circle, and as you you two go closer you realised it was a rap cypher. Most of you you friends were music majors, so it was no surprise for you to find them this way.

“Aye Y/N, aye aye. I missed you aye aye. And I wanna kiss your ne-ew friend.” Your friend Brian said as he ‘rapped’ his freestyle during the cypher, which apparently was dedicated to Monica. You and monica made your way to the circle and introduced everyone to monica.

“Hey Monica, do you like musicians?” Brian asked anticipating her answer.

“Only if they have a college degree.” She responded in a slightly sassy tone, causing everyone to ‘oooooh’ and shout a few ‘rejected’ sounds Brian’s way.

“Well, Y/N it’s great to see you. It’s been awhile.” One of your friends, Allison, says trying to detract from Brian’s rejection, you think.

“Dude, we live in the same neighborhood.” You told her while laughing.

“Hahaha, ever heard of sarcasm?” She says light heartedly mocking your laugh. After a few minutes of catching up, one of your friends suggested having a jam session. Of  course everyone agreed, and everyone went to an instrument, while you and Monica went straight to a mic. After a forty-five minute jam session, everyone exchanged info on where their dorm was. While everyone left, you saw Monic still talking to Brian, and it was obvious that he was flirting, trying to get her number. After a few more minutes, Monica head towards you ready to leave.

“Hey it’s 11:23, you ready to go?” She asked you

“Nahhh, not yet. I have some where I want to take you. Follow me!” You told her as you led Monica upstairs to a studio your brother took you to all the time.

“Wow, it’s beautiful here.. How do you know about this place.” Monica asked in amazement.

“My brother use to bring me here all the time when he had practice for Jazz band.” You explained to her, but suddenly you heard the door open. So you and Monica both turned you head to see who came through the door on the other side of the studio.

“Sam, what the hell.” Monica asked asked surprised to see Sam.

“Hey, I guess I’m not the only one who knows about this spot.”

“Yea, I guess not.” You state responding to Sam, “So, Juno, what are you doing here?”

 “I was just about to work on my mixtape, but I guess I’ll hold off on that. Since you two ladies got here first.” Sam said slightly surprised that you called him ‘Juno’, but none the less still pleased.

“You know what. I’ll just leave cause I not about to be a third wheel.” Monica said as she dabbed her way through the door.

“That girl..” You say under your breath.

“You look good…” Juno says while biting his lip and leaning back against the recording studio desk.

“Boy it’s no time to be flattering, I have a date at 12.” You tell him while walking past him and lightly brush his hand as you make your way to the door.

“I guess I better get going to cause my date looks fine as fuck, and I don’t want to keep baby girl waiting.” He says following you out of the studio. His little comment made you clench in between your thighs a bit, but you played it off. As you and Juno leave the studio, he tells you to follow him to his car. Once you get there you see he has an all black Audi a8.

“You never said anything about being a rich boy.” You told him trying to hide the fact that you’re impressed as you get into the car.

“I guess I should mention, ya boy doesn’t live on campus either.” He says throwing a small wink at you as he starts the car.  

While you and Juno were driving, you asked where you planned on having lunch.

He told you it’d be a surprise, and to sit back and enjoy the ride. While Juno was speeding on the highway, you got a text from Monica.

Monica: ‘ Did u fuck yet??? (≖ ͜ʖ≖)”

Y/N: ‘ Nahh, B… u didnt tell me ya boi has paper “

Monica: ‘ Yea, but we all do TBH lolol, but it’s wat ever ‘

Y/N: ‘ Okiee (￢_￢)... I’ll talk to you later, this man is taking me to hell knows where ‘

Monica: ‘ K, boo. Have fun!!!! ‘

When you looked up from your phone, you saw the car was parked in front of a restaurant that seemed to be on a pier. Once we entered the restaurant we were greeted with a host saying ‘Welcoming to vessel. Please follow me.’. The first thing that caught your eye was the bar in the center of the room with a glass pole that had 4 TVs on each side going through a large hole in the ceiling, and tables that surrounded it. The restaurant gave off a relaxing tropical vibe. The walls were silver with oval shaped indents with in them, but the walls were mostly of windows, showing off yachts and other boats. The host led you to your table on a patio overlooking the ocean.

“Sam… did you plan all of this?” You asked him in awe with a smirk on your face.

“Yea, do you like it?” He asked pulling out your chair.

“Of course, I didn’t expect you to go all out. I don't think I dressed up appropriately for this.” You said as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Babe, you always look great. Plus, these old fass men should be happy to get an eye full of you.” He says once again complimenting you. Once you both look over the menu, your waiter comes back with water and 2 glasses of wine. You ordered Flat Iron “Steak Frites” and Juno ordered Atlantic Salmon. You and Juno got to know each other more while you waited for your food to come out.

“Did you live in California before college?” You asked Sam.

“Yea, I was born here, but my parents met in South Korea. After they got married, they moved to LA for business.” He explained a small bit of his background to you. “ What about yourself?”

“Yea, I was born here, but my parents are from the East Coast and they wanted to settle down here. Lol I could have been a New Yorker.” You say trying to imitate a Brooklyn accent.

When your food came out, you and Sam went ham, and not a fry was left on your plate.

“Thanks, Sam. I’m blaming my freshman 15 on you.”

“Shit, baby you’ll still look good.” He said leaning back in his chair while running his hands through his hair.

The waiter came back over asking if you wanted dessert, but you guys declined and Sam asked for the bill. After Sam paid, you guys left and head towards the car. After 30 minutes of driving and vibing to music in the car, you guys reached campus. And Sam parked in front of your dorm building.

“I had fun with you today.” You told Juno as you lean across the seat and molded your lips with his. When you first kissed him, you heard him make a sound that was mixed with a grunt and moan. This sound was so sexy, and you couldn't wait to hear more, but you figured it was too soon. You’re sure it’ll be worth the wait because the way your lips melted together made you anticipate that moment. After the kiss you sat back in your seat and looked at him with a seductive smirk.

“Damn baby, your such a tease. But I guess that make you my girl now right.” He asked a slightly disappointed.

“I guess so.” You said getting closing the car door and throwing him a wink.

A/N: Shittttt, the end got a little spicy…. I really want to write a smut, but BUILD UP IS EVERY THINGGGGG    

[juniperhillpatient]

Be Careful who you make friends with on Tumblr ~Creepypasta~

Listen to it with creepy sound effects and images included HERE 

*****************************************************************************************************

  The last time I used Tumblr I was a sophomore in high school and Tumblr was my escape from the world in which I was a socially anxious, overweight girl with freckles and oversized glasses. On the blue screen with a username of my choice I could be as loud and crass as I wanted. I could talk about horror movies, metal music, and serial killers with those who shared my passion for the bizarre and terrible, without the sideways glances that said: “What a creep she is, she wastes her life daydreaming of death.”  

I deleted the app and never looked back when I began dating a cheerleader and was accepted into a semi cool group of friends early in eleventh grade.

        Four years of college later I was living in Columbus working at the Center for Science and Industry. The catch was that the job was in the gift shop, as a cashier. My relationships with my coworkers didn’t extend beyond a friendly nod or wave, except perhaps Sarah who worked in public outreach and sometimes at lunch with me.

        I knew what everyone back home in Cincinnati would say if they knew where I had ended up. I could hear the echo of my relatives and high school friends saying “Olivia dear we did warn you a degree in liberal arts wouldn’t get you very far.”

Stubborn as always, I had added on my Facebook page that I worked at Cosi, but not which department. It was a vague, half lie. I hoped people pictured me living in a nice apartment with lots of friends having wine tastings and talking about how posh we all were for working at such a prestigious institute.

        I lived in a studio apartment. The electric and water were turned off on a regular basis. I’d be damned if anyone at home ever found out the truth of my pathetic existence.  

If I had to see my high school girlfriend Karen’s coy look of faux sympathy as she listened to me talk about my electric being shut off, I would hope for her fancy stereo to fall in the bath with her as she sat sipping her expensive wine. If I had to witness the slow shaking of my parent’s heads, I might just go insane and rip their lungs out.  

        It was as I lay on my tiny mattress without a frame listening to the scurrying of rats in the walls that I opened my lap top and typed in Tumblr.Com. I wanted back into the community of weirdos on the blue website often referred to by its tired users as a hellsite because of the millions of bots, viruses, and uneducated opinions that populated the forums.

        I recreated my blog with the same username I had used in high school, liv-firefly. After following several blogs, I settled to scrolling my dash and reblogging facts about Ted Bundy and images of my favorite scream queens from eighties slashers. I was excited when the notification popped up that someone had followed me.

My heart sank when I checked the blog’s username. It was just a bunch of random numbers and letters. A bot, most likely, I thought. Still, half hopeful that I might make a friend, I clicked on their blog.

        As the site redirected, I jumped a little when sound began blasting. I hurried to turn down my volume, cringing as I remembered that some people set up their themes to play music when you clicked their blog. Well, I thought, at least that’s a good indication they aren’t a bot.

        The music itself sounded nothing like anything I had ever heard before. It wasn’t a genre I could place. In fact, it was more like an uncomfortable buzzing sound. I supposed it was probably some weird indie shit the user was into. Once my volume was down to only one notch, I began scrolling the blog.

        The user had a title, but no bio. The title read “Leviticus 17:7.” I opened a new tab and copy and pasted their title into the search bar. My heart jumped as the screen of my computer went completely black. Words appeared in blood red across the screen, and the strange buzzing from the blog began playing at full volume.

“And they shall no more offer their sacrifices unto devils, after whom they have gone a whoring. This shall be a statute forever unto them throughout their generations.”

As fast as the screen had turned black, it lit up and switched to a normal screen, websites focused on bible verses showing up as search results in one tab and the blog I was looking at in the other. The sound was back to a low volume.

I clicked back over to the blog, thinking that this must be some sort of set up they had with their blog so when you copy and pasted their title, the screen went black and the bible verse popped up. I smirked.

“Clever,” I muttered aloud. Their blog was mostly black and white pictures of cemeteries, strange symbols, and images of dead girls.

        There was an image of a girl hanging from a noose, a girl dead in an alley, a girl’s body left behind in a forest to rot. I reblogged a few of the unsettling images. It was sort of odd that I didn’t recognize any of the girls from movies, and the user didn’t use tags to identify them. I had seen more gore flicks than I could count, so it seemed logical I would recognize at least a few. Still, I didn’t think much of it. Maybe the user was into indie movies which not many people had seen.

        I fell asleep with the blog open and when I woke up the next morning the odd, buzzing music was still playing, soft and low. I shut my lap top, but the buzzing didn’t stop. Annoyed, I headed to the kitchen to start some coffee, rubbing my eyes. Maybe the sound was stuck in my head from having it play all night.         I sipped my coffee and the sound didn’t go away. Irritated, I went to the bathroom and grabbed two aspirin which I swallowed with a glass of water before hurrying to get dressed and leave for work. On the drive to work I played my radio loud, but it didn’t drown out the buzzing in my head.

        It was like my mind was filled with hornets, hornets that couldn’t be still. I went through my day being as polite to customers as I could despite my pounding head.

        “But they honored this coupon last time,” insisted an old woman with a creaking voice, holding up a crumpled coupon from five years ago which she wanted to use to buy a pack of gun that was only a dollar seventy-five to begin with.

        “Yes ma’am,” I said. “That would be because last time you hadn’t used it before. Unfortunately, you can’t use the same coupon twice.” I was working to keep my voice steady all while I fantasized about wrapping my fingers around her ugly, wrinkled, neck. Her gray eyes were filled with the kind of rage only a baby boomer whose coupon couldn’t be honored was capable of.

        “I would like to speak to your manager,” she snarled. I sighed.

        “Ma’am any supervisor I send you to will tell you the same thing.”

        “This is ridiculous!” she trilled. “I’ve been coming here for twenty-five years!” Here’s hoping you don’t live another twenty-five, I thought.

        “Again, I apologize for any misunderstanding,” I said in my most calm customer service voice. “Other people are waiting in line, so I’m going to have to ask that you either purchase something or leave.”         Snarling and grunting, the old woman limped away, leaning against a hooked cane. I entertained the satisfying image of her stumbling and tripping onto her cane so that the hooked end was slammed down her throat and crashed into her skull. She left the store still mumbling curses to herself.

        When I got home to my apartment I made myself some ramen noodles and poured myself a cheap glass of wine. So, I thought, this is what I’ve come to. Headaches, crappy dinners, and hours of scrolling Tumblr.

        I lay down in bed and opened Tumblr. The buzzing in my head hadn’t stopped so I felt silly for returning to the site that had caused it. Still, I was hopeful that I might make some friends to make my pathetic life a little less lonely.

        I glanced at my follow count and was a little disheartened to see that I still had only one follower. I looked at my notifications and was surprised to see that I had a message. It was from my solitary follower, the blog with a username made up of random numbers and letters.

        I clicked the message. They had sent me a post. I clicked the post and it took me to their blog. I froze.

        The post was an image of my face. I was laying on my side staring at the camera. My heartbeat accelerated as I stared at the image, realizing that it had been taken by the webcam on my lap top.

        I jumped when my phone buzzed, slamming my laptop. Picking my phone up, I saw that the caller ID read “Mom.” I groaned before swiping my finger across the screen to answer. In the moment between speaking and swiping across the phone, I realized that the room was silent. The buzzing was gone.

        “Hello?” I said.

        “Hi Olivia,” she said in her best ‘not mad, just disappointed’ mom voice.         “Hi mom,” I said.  

        “Olivia dear, I called Cosi and asked about you.”

        “Did you?” I grumbled.

        “Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell us you worked in the gift shop?” I cursed in my mind. I could just see her shaking her head.

        “I don’t know, Mom,” I said.  

        I wondered how she found out, but answered my own question before wondering for long. She could be quite convincing when she used her sweetest mom voice. It was a soft, worried tone which was only ever heard by people she wanted something from and never by me.

        After hanging up with her I felt the tears coming. I punched the wall, causing my fist to ache. I flopped down on my bed and let the anguish of the past couple months out in a sob. My shitty apartment, my shitty job, the angry customers, my mom’s disappointment, my creepy Tumblr stalker, it was all crashing down on me at once.

        I cried myself to sleep and when I woke up my phone was buzzing. I glanced down to see that it was Karen. I stared at the vibrating phone for several seconds before answering. Karen hadn’t called me in years. Our parents were good friends so it was impossible to avoid each other altogether after our messy high school breakup, but calling each other on the phone to chat?

I glanced at the red numbers on my alarm clock. It was three in the morning. She wasn’t calling to chat.

        I swiped my finger across the phone. “Hello?” I asked, groggy.

        “Liv?” Karen’s voice broke. I sat up straight, suddenly wide awake.

        “Karen, what’s wrong?” I asked.

        “Liv, I thought I should be the one to tell you,” she said. “Last night there was a break in at your parents’ place.”

        “A break in?” I asked, panicking. “What happened? Are they okay?”

        “Liv…” she trailed off, her voice heavy with tears.

        “Karen tell me what happened!” I yelled into the phone, my heart pounding.

        “Liv, they’re gone. I’m so sorry.”

        “No,” I said. “What do you mean they’re gone? They can’t be. What happened?”

        “You don’t need to know the details sweetie,” she said, her voice filled with the rich girl snobbery and grating pity she had always aired so well.    

        “Karen tell me what the hell happened to my parents!” I said.  

        “Liv…It’s horrible. Someone ripped their lungs out. The police aren’t releasing details yet, but I’m the one who…” she began to cry softly, and I hated her. I hated her for being allowed to cry, for feeling sorry for herself, for telling me this horrible news. It wasn’t logical, but I needed somewhere to direct the fury and horror surging through my blood. “Liv, I found them. It was so horrible.” I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. This had to be a dream, some horrible nightmare. “The police will probably call you in a few hours,” Karen said. “I just wanted you to hear it from a familiar voice first.” She paused. “Liv sweetie, do you want to talk?”

        “No,” I managed through thick lungs. “I just…I need to process this.”

        “Okay,” Karen said. “I’ll call you tonight.” She hung up the phone and I was left sitting there with the phone with no one on the other end against my ear, staring into the shadows of my dark apartment.

        The next night after talking to the police and concerned relatives on the phone all day I lay back in bed staring at the ceiling. Their lungs had been ripped out. That’s all I could keep thinking. That was the very thing I had wished upon them in my private moment of annoyance. I tried to shake away the horrible feeling that this was somehow my fault, chanting phrases like ‘survivor’s guilt’ and ‘shock’ to myself but I couldn’t shake the awful clenching feeling in the pit of my stomach.

        I opened Tumblr to scroll and the first image I came across was of a blonde girl dead in her bathtub, her skin raw and bloody. It was a post from the creepy user who had sent me the picture of myself. Not wanting to see anymore death or gore for the night, I closed the lap top.

        After calling off work for bereavement I made the two-hour commute home. During the drive, I kept imagining that I heard that awful buzzing from my creepy Tumblr stalker’s blog. When I finally arrived in town I decided to stop by Karen’s house.

        I regretted my immediate feelings of anger towards her. After all, she had been trying to be kind by calling me before the police did. Besides, I could only imagine how horrible it must have been for her to find them like that.

        Pulling into Karen’s driveway, I felt sick imagining the scene she must have walked in on. How must it look when someone’s lung were ripped out? Who could do such a thing?

        I made my way to the front door and knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. I knocked louder. Nothing.

        I turned the knob and gave the door a small push. It opened and I walked into Karen’s hallway. I felt a familiar flicker of resentment towards the expensive paintings hanging on her walls, the fancy woodwork of her stairs, the smell of flowers from outside rather than rat shit and Frebreze like my apartment.

        “Karen?” I called. No answer. I made my way up the stairs. “Karen, are you home?” I called.

        As I reached the top of the stairs I heard running water coming from the bathroom. So, she was running herself a bath, as she so often did. I smiled a little, remembering what her shampoo commercial hair looked like against her bare shoulders, and what her soft, perfect skin had looked like naked. There was a reason I’d fallen for her in high school. Watching her prancing around with the cheerleading squad, I had not been sure if I wanted to have her, or be her. Maybe both.

        “Karen?” I called, knocking on the bathroom door. There was nothing. No answer. I felt my heartbeat racing. Was something wrong? I began pounding on the door.

        When I still didn’t get an answer, I turned the knob. It wasn’t locked. I took a deep breath, and pushed the door opened.

        It took a moment for me to realize that the sound piercing the air was my own, anguished scream. I fell to my knees, my mouth wide but no sound escaping anymore. The water was running.

        In the bathtub, lay Karen. Her perfect skin was raw and bloody, ripped form her body to reveal muscle and bone. Her stereo was in the tub with her, still plugged into the wall. I stumbled backwards, the rational part of my brain realizing that if I stepped into the flooded bathroom I was liable to meet the same fate as Karen.

        Sobbing, I fell backwards into my hands. Her pink lips were open just a little and her wide blue eyes were bloodshot and stared emptily up at the ceiling. Bile rose in my throat tasting of sickness.

        Somehow, in my shock and horror I realized what I had to do. I pulled out my phone and dialed nine-one-one. I explained to the operator what I had walked in on, and gave Karen’s address through my sobs. She stayed on the phone with me as she sent dispatch over. There wasn’t much to say, but she did her best to keep me calm.  

        When the paramedics arrived, they wrapped a blanket around me even though I wasn’t cold and walked me outside. I was hyperventilating, unable to breath. I didn’t say it, but all I could think was that this was the second time a horrible wish I’d made in a moment of anger had come true. What was happening to me? Was I doing this? If so, how was I doing this?

        A burly officer in his fifties was kind enough to drop me off at my hotel. I wished I could stay at my childhood home instead, but it was of course part of a police investigation. I checked in at the front desk and took the elevator up to my room.

        Once in my room, I collapsed into the bed feeling sick with horror and guilt. I jumped when my phone began vibrating in the bed beside me. I picked it up and saw that an unknown number wanted to facetime. I had no desire to be on camera or speak to anyone, so I threw the phone across the room.

        It hit the wall with a crash, and the screen broke. I didn’t care. It was the least of my worries. As soon as it stopped ringing, it started again. I climbed out of bed and walked across the room to pick it up. It was an unknown number again, requesting to facetime.

        I swiped my finger across, planning to tell whoever it was that I couldn’t talk right now.

        When I saw the image on the other end my heart dropped into my stomach. It was the old lady from the gift shop whose coupon wouldn’t work. She was being videotaped from the side as she walked across her kitchen, leaning against her hooked cane.

        With a surge of horror, I remembered the dark fantasy I had entertained when I watched her leaving the store. I knew what was going to happen next, and some part of me knew there was nothing I could do about it.

        “Look out!” I screamed. Nothing. The old woman didn’t even look up. “Please,” I whispered as a sob welled in my throat. “Please don’t hurt her, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it.” I repeated the words as if whoever was on the other end videotaping the old woman would care, as if they had compassion.

        The old woman slipped. I screamed as she fell forward, the cane twisting in her hand. The hooked end slammed into her mouth and blood poured from her wrinkled lips as she fell forward. The cane crashed through the back of her head and I heard the crack of her skull. Red and pink ooze formed around the black cane staining her greying hair.

        The screen went black. I stared at it, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I shook the phone to no avail. I threw it at the wall and it fell to the ground with a dull thud.

        “No!” I screamed into the empty hotel room. “This isn’t fair,” I sobbed. “This isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t mean it!”

        As I fell to the ground, shaking, an awful realization hit me. This wasn’t going to end. This would continue happening. Whatever force was doing this would not give up.

        “Then take me,” I whispered, wondering if I was going insane or speaking to some unspeakable evil which could hear me no matter how softly I spoke. Perhaps it could even hear my thoughts. “Don’t take anyone else,” I said. “Take me. Tear me apart. Claw me to bits. Rip my heart out!” I let out a shaky laugh that was more of a sob. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. It ends with me.”

        A soft buzzing sound filled the room.

[creepytalesoftheweb]

“When I was thirteen my dad, my older sister and I moved from Cleveland, OH to Wilmington, NC and rented an old one-story house. It had two living rooms separated by a wood-paneled wall. We didn't use the side that you had to enter through the kitchen. We just stored boxes in that side of the house. We all were kind of depressed because we lived in Cleveland for ten years and we missed our friends.

We only lived there for 6 months after things got intense. It was the only place that my dad ever broke the lease. It started out innocent enough. My dad worked long hours so my sister and I were always home alone and we watched a lot of Johnny bravo and power puff girls. We noticed a long scratching sound one night and she muted the TV. It was coming from the wall behind the TV. The room on the other side was the unused living room. We both went to check but there was nothing there. We told our dad the next day and he put out mice traps but they never caught anything even though the scratching sound continued.

I started sleeping in her bed most nights after that. One night we heard banging in the kitchen but we were too scared to look. In the morning we went out and my dad was making breakfast. He asked us why we opened all the cabinet doors and said that if we did have mice then they would get into the food. We didn't but we didn't tell him about the noises.

One morning at breakfast my dad asked me if I remembered anything from the previous night. I said no and he told me what happened. He woke up and I was standing at the foot of the bed staring at him. He was spooked and said my name. I didn't respond and he told me to go to bed and I just stood there. Then I walked to his window and stared out of it. He asked me what I was doing and I said her crying is keeping me up. He said no one is crying and told me to go to bed. I said okay and walked out. My dad is very no nonsense and doesn't believe in ghosts at all but he looked really unsettled. My sister looked horrified. She wouldn't let me sleep in her bed anymore.

About a month before we moved away my sister and I were watching TV. She turned it off and said she had to tell me something. When I was at school she was on the computer. The computer desk was against the wall that had two glass sliding doors with 4 floor to ceiling windows. The doors led to a closed in sun room. She said all of a sudden the glass sliding doors and windows started violently shaking. No windows were open and nothing else in the house shook. And we didn't live by railroad tracks.

One day it happened to me. My sister was in Cleveland visiting friends and my dad was at work. I was on the computer reading fanfiction. When all of a sudden the glass doors and windows violently shook. I instantly started crying and ran out of the house. I sat on the driveway until my dad came home. I told him but he didn't dismiss it. He just looked away. I asked if it ever happened to him and he said yes.

A couple weeks later I shot up in bed alerted by loud noises in the kitchen. They immediately stopped. I heard my dad's door and my sister's door open. I came out too and my dad turned on the light. One kitchen chair was on the floor. One was on top of the table and the other two were on their backs. We all slept in my dad's bed that night.

We moved to Chattanooga, TN two weeks later.”

By: Princess_PeachX (Creepypasta are great, but does anyone have any good true creepy stories?)