Robertscream

I remember when I first woke up here just a couple of weeks ago. It’s probably not like any place you’ve ever seen. Not that it matters anymore, now that I'm stuck here. You see, for the past few weeks, I've been stuck in some sort of hell. Because I have found myself trapped. Trapped in a never-ending expanse of cardboard. I don't know if I'm alone here or not; I'm mostly writing this so my mind has something to do. Hell, I don't know if I’ll even get out of here, wherever this place is.

I'm sure you know what Disney's utilidors are by now. If you haven't heard, beneath Disney World, there's a massive underground network of hallways and doors that connects the attractions and sections of the park. This is so that nobody sees the people working in the park, specifically to keep the park feeling magical and keep the illusion alive.

This story is heavily based on the original King in Yellow lore from the 1890s. While it does have several original elements, it ties heavily to that specific lore. If you do not know what the King in Yellow is, this story may not be for you. I don’t really know when this all first started—this nightmare of the same damn color. That bright, sunny shade that I used to love, I have now learned to fear and to hate. That sickening color. Yellow.

I always found Baba Yaga as a concept, a rather disturbing idea. That witch from Russian folklore that would snatch bad kids away, never to be seen again, or a figure that would punish those that had wronged it. I always found those stories stupid. Not because I don’t believe, but because I know the truth: there IS something in the Russian forests, a cruel, inhuman being that is nothing like the way people paint it in the stories. I have seen Baba Yaga, and I know what it really is.

It’s a commonly held belief in the world that machines can do anything, that, given enough time and resources, robots and computers will one day replace humankind, or that the constant evolution of machines could bring back what we lost. But I remember when we learned our lesson, when we understood that maybe, the dead should stay dead.

“I consider it useless and tedious to represent what exists, because nothing that exists satisfies me. Nature is ugly, and I prefer the monsters of my fancy to what is positively trivial.” -Charles Bauldelaire

As I wandered through the park once more, walking towards the circus, I could feel a sense of dread boiling from within me, it felt as if a thousand eyes were watching me, staring into the back of my soul as I wandered towards what felt like certain doom, the feeling of fear and despair only growing as I saw the big top tent in the distance, and saw the abandoned trailers that seemed to surround me from all sides, with crates and hay bales stacked against them. I could feel myself shaking as I…

Deep in the core of a dull, lightless city, a man sat alone by a fire. He didn’t know how long the world had been like this, he didn’t remember what it was like before, He only knew that he woke up to this one day. From what he could remember, Just faintly in the back of his mind, the world used to be filled with other people, other faces, but after days of wandering, months of searching, there was no familiar face to see. For now, the only company he had was the fire, and a few cans of beans…

The game was almost over, but things didn't get easier. I knew that the Rot wouldn’t let me win this. I had to plan ahead. I could tell that judging from the last 2, the final candles would both be in one of the main areas of the park: the circus, and the rides in the center of the grounds.

I wandered through the stalls a bit, trying to use my map to figure out where I was, and the quickest way to get to the lake. The way I saw it, I wouldn’t have to struggle as much to put the candle out since it would already be surrounded by water, but first, I’d have to actually navigate my way to the lake.

I tried not to panic as I watched The Rot lurch up from the ground, hobbling as it began to search for me, its mouth twitching and its bones cracking as it moved, it limped and crawled around, occasionally taking a second or two to sniff the air. Slowly, it spoke, its voice still loud and deafening. “Where are yooooou?” It called, tauntingly, I could hear it chuckling as it searched. “Jonaaaaaah…” I slowly navigated to the exit of the warehouse, reaching for the exit and…

I’ve heard all about all of the little “games” from the internet, little rituals with beings that hunt you, games that people spread stories about, games that people get wishes for, I feel jealous of them, most of the time it's just a prank, or if something does happen, at least they’ll more than likely survive. I find it annoying whenever I spot one of those clickbait videos, (PLAYING BLOODY MARY AT 3:00 AM!), because they mock the people who made these stories, or in my case, encounters.

Laboratory exploration day 8: Randy: We finally reached floor 3, and it isn’t really what any of us expected. It’s a lot more dirty than we remembered, and there are several broken glass enclosures. There’s paper everywhere, little pages and sticky notes covered in illegible scribbling. Something happened here, something serious. Steven:

I remember when the nightmares first started. I think it was ten, maybe twelve years ago. We had just gotten a new house, one of those old buildings that cracked and groaned when anything moved inside it, the ones they sell real cheap to poor families like mine instead of demolishing. I was only 16 at the time, and my dad thought that he, my brother, and I could use a rest start away from the city. Sometimes I wish we never started, I wish we never moved out of our old apartment, but sometimes,…

This story is based off of the famous ABANDONED BY DISNEY creepypasta series that was made by Slimebeast I won't deny that anything creepy happens at Disney’s parks, in fact, quite the opposite. I believe in all the stories, all the urban myths and legends, I believe them because I have seen one. I know all the stories. People disappearing, strange scenery, animatronics moving on their own,out of place objects. More importantly, the Utilidors.

(Authors note: This is a rewrite of my first ever pasta from the creepypasta wiki. I hope you all enjoy!)

LAB EXPLORATION DAY 1: Randy: We made it to the research facility after about two days. There were so  many close calls that I almost lost count. There were the obvious threats, the false copycats and Mimickers were at almost every damn turn we made, but we made it.

Hello, reader, if there is anyone around to read this old journal in this wasteland. I want to say that no, I’m not the man who previously owned this journal, although I find his story quite interesting. Unfortunately, as you can probably tell, he didn’t last long outside of his apartment. I originally came here looking for food for me and the rest of my camp. There used to be nearly 30 of us, but then the monsters wiped the camp out, and only us 5 remained.

I’ve learned throughout my life that there are specific things that you should never do in your dreams. I’ve learned how to control my surroundings in a dream state, how to remember dreams, but the thing I will never forget was how I created a demon. It was simple to do, and completely accidental, but for those of you wondering how to do it, it is quite simple. All you have to do is break the three rules. Rule number 1: NEVER tell anyone in a dream that they are in your dream.

Nobody remembers when they appeared, some think they have been here since the beginning of time and space, or at least since the first human existed, others think they came into existence more recently. I personally don't care where they come from, or how they got here, I only really care about keeping myself alive.

The following document is from a journal found in an abandoned mental facility. Please note that the probability that any of this is real is low, and most likely the result of the patient's broken mind. I doubt anyone will believe me, I doubt any of you who might have stumbled upon this will even care afterwards. This is my story. I’m writing this down because somehow that thing got in here. I don't know how much time I have, maybe an hour, maybe a few seconds before it breaks the door down.