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I have never been as happy as I was on my eighth birthday. My mother handed me a heavily wrapped present containing my very first gameboy and a mint Pokémon Gold edition.

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…

“THIS SHOW IS A JOKE!” As the latest person walked off the stage in a rage, throwing the papers up in the air as he stormed for the exit. I had just disproved his claim that he was telepathic, calling him out for trying to force a page open with his mind-. Just to see him try and flap his hands at the page, hoping it would blow over.

I've worked as a lunch lady/cafeteria worker for close to a year now and it's the best job I've ever had.

That night, the words of my father lingered on… “Son, never allow wrongdoing without vengeance. Each time someone crosses you, don't simply double-down, but make them pay threefold – they crossed you even if they didn't have to!” …that night, after I finally found him…for so many years he's kept himself hidden under a fake identity, a different address, with his wife and kids. Who would've even thought this man could live a life so familial, so ordinary, so fake?

For as long as he can remember, he's had dreams where he feels completely unable to move. In these dreams, he sees only darkness and hears whispers—soft, yet relentless. As the dreams are about to end, he often experiences sleep paralysis, which only prolongs his torment, making the nightmare last even longer.

I'll never forget the summer of 1998, or the encounters I shared with my classmates. When I was ten years old, just two weeks into the beginning of the school year, the entire fifth grade was taken on a special week-long camping trip to 'Camp High Hope' in Indiana. Being ten years old, the idea of spending a week away from home, without any parents or siblings, just friends and the other kids from school, was one of the coolest experiences you could ever hope for as a child.

As a kid growing up in my neighborhood everyone knew about Farmer Fred’s, partly because it was an abandoned farm in the middle of the Pittsburgh suburbs, but largely due to the fact that it was haunted. A farm in my neighborhood was probably commonplace at the turn of the 19th century, but by the time I was a kid we were surrounded by strip malls, fast food restaurants and housing developments. That being said, there was and is still a good deal of green space, and at least one farm, albeit no…

The first time I visited the Otherworld was when I was eleven. One moment I’d been having some peaceful dream I hardly remember, and the next, I was shooting up in bed with a gasp. I pulled my blanket tighter around myself as I looked around uneasily.

As usual; I was exhausted after yet another long day at work at an unimportant job in an unimportant place. I have a big social circle of friends and family. Christmas holidays were coming up. Had lots of traveling and festivity related preparations that had to be done by morning. Of course I had to do them all at the last minute because that’s what the cool kids do. Which meant I didn’t get home until very late.

There was nothing special about that morning. The sun was warm, and the breeze was cool, one of the first hints that spring was here to stay. It started off as a simple thought, just an idea. But I never could have imagined what that idea was capable of causing.

I used to hear in school to never sleep with a mirror facing your bed. People said that mirrors were portals to other dimensions and realities. I always thought it was a load of rubbish. How could a mirror, a simple reflection, be the gateway to something so powerful?

*Disclaimer: This story was based on true events that have happened to me* Everyone has that eerie sensation some time in their life. Some are able to explain the phenomenon, while others can’t. It’s that feeling of someone, or something, watching you. It’s that unknown experience when either dread or curiosity can get the best of you.

We had been sailing for months after departing from the port of Whitehill, and had left even the most remote hunting grounds of the whalers behind weeks ago. The charts put us northeast of the Forsaken Islands, but their bleak shores were not our destination. Our route led us farther north than most men had ever sailed, across the desolate black waters of the Northern Sea.

They were outcasts once, in the old days; The Silent Kings. That’s what all the old-timers heard from their old-timers, anyway. They were Sin Eaters. Mute Sin Eaters.  Mute from trauma, according to most. The three of them were brothers, orphaned together when they accidentally set their mother on fire. The legends don’t record the details of exactly how that went down, but the boys were so traumatized not just from witnessing their mother’s fiery demise, but also being the cause of it, that…

Some neighborhood kids and I are going to commit a felony tonight, but it's no big deal. We've been committing a felony for almost two weeks now. We've developed a new pastime, and this all began when Cody Winters told us about the Railroad Game. This is the type of shit that happens when you live in a quaint suburb, filled with kids and teenagers that have nothing better to do.

“Can I tell you a story Boss?”

When my girlfriend, Ella, recommended we go to the local renaissance faire I absolutely jumped on the idea. I hadn’t been since I was a kid, but I always remembered loving it. The cool vendors, the food, the awesome jousting matches. It was everything a kid could love. My recent hyperfixation on medieval times and fantasy also definitely helped to drive my excitement for the event. I also had been needing a good excuse to get out and be social again. I had found myself too busy with school and…

Cry Baby Lane (or JosephTheSnail’s Cry Baby Lane, as titled on Spiral Nightmares) is a thriller creepypasta that retells the 2011 creepypasta of the same name while correcting many of its flaws, most notably the defamation of the real-life director Peter Lauer by replacing his role with an unhinged character who gradually proves to be even more deranged than initially believed, alongside the disturbing, never-before-mentioned-until-now “actual” (not really) history of a goofy Nickelodeon horror…

Richard removed the lightswitch to the basement stairwell. It wasn’t that he simply disabled it, no. He removed the entire thing. Plastic covering, screws, the switch box—all of it. Though, he had shut off the power to the basement for good measure, too.