Most read stories

"I just needed to sleep; it wasn't personal," he murmured, focusing intently on his fidgeting hands to avoid my gaze. "During the war, to desensitize us, our superiors played the harrowing screams of dying men over the speakers in our barracks. Initially, it was deeply unsettling, but over time, I couldn't sleep without it." He yawned, revealing the dark circles under his eyes. "I see," I responded, sitting across the table from the soldier. "And this justifies your actions?"

Long black hair draped down in twisted, wet tendrils, her head cocked to one side as the TV blared in front of her. "HEY!" I shouted again, trying to project my voice over the noise, "HELLO?!" Her head didn't move, not so much as an inch, just stayed utterly stagnant, facing away from me, her body sitting upright on my couch. "HELLO!?" I again cried, slowly setting down my keys in the entryway, yet keeping my shoes on as I began creeping forwards hesitantly. "WHO ARE YOU?!"

The following story was originally posted across 8 different installments spanning the months from October to November of 2017. They describe the true events that occurred at a now infamous small town gas station. PART ONE

This is a reboot of the original Jeff the Killer by Sesseur. This reboot was written by K. Banning Kellum in 2015, and won a community vote to be the new Jeff the Killer story on the Creepypasta Fandom Wiki.

I last saw my girlfriend around seventeen years ago. Although for me, it was last week.

I was never one for superstitions, but the events of the last few months have drastically changed my outlook on the cosmic forces at work in this world. It began last year when my best friend Lonzo and I had decided we had enough of our lives in South Florida and both pursued new careers in beautiful Butte, Montana. We had been friends since we were kids, and neither of us was happy with where our careers were at age 25, me a substitute teacher in the Miami-Dade Public System and Lonzo working…

The phone rang abruptly. He paused to look at the screen of his battered cell phone. "No Caller ID." He doesn't usually answer these calls, but after what just happened he thought it could be something important. He slid his thumb slowly across the bottom of the screen to answer, and even slower again, he raised the phone to his ear. "H-Hello?" he said hesitantly.

When I was fourteen years old I received my first cell phone. It was one of the earlier models of phone, small, basic and a burner. When I was in high school the all the cell phones were only able make or receive calls and texts. There weren't cameras or apps or even call I.D. built into the phones. All of the older technology now seems so simple and innocent in comparison to today's models.

It was annoying at first. The occasional creaking of the house, power shortages, no heating, things you would expect to find in a small town up in Scotland. Since I had lived here for a good four years I had gotten used to those events occurring. Gradually it got worse. The power would stay out for hours, sometimes even days. The cold winds would shake the old house, I stopped bothering to light candles when the lights died. The currents of air would just seep through the cracks around the…

When you hear of crime writers, you think of people like Michael Connelly, or Rick Castle. Those guys are schmucks compared to me. The same plotlines rehashed over and over and repackaged into new covers with slightly more entertaining titles each time. You see, with me, everything I put in the pages of my books are legitimate. Now, I don’t just look up old crimes on the Internet and try to make them more appealing to the modern reader. No, that’s too simple. I make the crimes.

Ryan had taken brief notice of the family of five that entered the mostly empty diner. This was his favorite place to go when reviewing business cases because it was quiet, usually empty between noon and late evening, and famous for their strawberry rhubarb pies. He’d done his best work here, and had come to the diner to study over a very lucrative business case.

It's been 25 years to the day since my friend Baptiste disappeared. Not officially. The date in the police record says 'September 14' because his aunt didn't report him missing until three days later. I was the last person to see him though. I know when and where he disappeared, and I told the cops, but they brushed me off. I was just making things up to protect my friends, they said, and that I had watched too many horror movies.

Somebody once said “We are either alone in this universe, or we are not. Both thoughts are equally terrifying”. It is an interesting thought, and a mystery that may go on forever. The mistake this generation of people make is assuming that they are untouchable, that they know everything there is to know already, and that anything else is merely a bonus. Let me tell you, there is one almighty assumption that people make, a mistake that has been made for thousands of years. A secret which will…

It had been a relatively calm evening in the station until that moment. The day shift had drawn to a close, and the night shift had not yet begun, so I was alone on duty. If it were not for the portly, old figure of Nick the desk sergeant, I would have been the only soul in the station. Despite his plentiful figure and round, jolly features, he rarely offered good company and I found myself wishing that Scratch or Black Donald were about. Likely, roguish lads though they were, at least I could…

You just got off a long flight. After spending four hours in a cramped plane with 165 other people, baggage is delayed. After an hour's wait the carousel starts up and your bag is one of the first to come around. You grab it and get out of the airport as fast as you can.

What is the most frightening thing you can think of? There is actually a unanimously correct response. By going into the darkest and most horrific part of the brain could one finally understand what one certain fear causes the body to go into hyperdrive and activate the "fight or flight" response. Any living being is ultimately condemned to choose fear or curiosity at this one, simple piece of knowledge: the unknown. This is why people are afraid of the dark, of monsters, of heights. The thrill…

"What do you mean, 'you're almost there'?" Ralf's voice was barely audible through the prattle of the nightly downpour. "Past the exit sign." I leaned closer to the phone holder. "I'll be there in 20 minutes. 30 at most." I tried to come up with a quick estimate how long it would take to unload the hodgepodge of furniture and crates from the estate sale, but Ralf cut me off. "It's Friday, Frank." A pause, then: "We said Saturday."

Mike yawned. He wasn't use to the late nights yet. It was only his second night shift, as far as I'm aware, and by the time he had crossed the room to grab his sixth or seventh drink of coffee from the machine just outside the office door, I was started to get irritated by him. He was a lot younger than me, about 20 years old, and the age gap annoyed me since he acted like a child most of the time. My usual co-worker for the night shift was on a vacation with our boss, since the two knew each…

I had just graduated high school and was planning to head off to college that fall. I had done well enough in high school that I had a couple of different college scholarships at my disposal. However, not every school that I looked at was willing to give me a full ride. After much thought and delegation I decided to attend the University of Wyoming. Why would I apply to such a college you may ask? Well for one thing, the college is in the middle of nowhere! Literally, when you drive there, all…

Personally, I don't know how to start this, but I love Nintendo. The console I grew up with was the Nintendo 64. The games on the console are great, but the one I liked the most was Super Mario 64. Unfortunately, I don’t have it anymore, if I remember, my parents sold a lot of games that I had, and as we were moving at the time, we managed to keep the original Super Smash Bros., in which I had a lot of fun playing.