Prologue The legend of the cursed samurai is a legend as old as time. An urban legend that tells the tale of a lone swordsman who is possessed by the ghost of vengeance and doomed to forever travel the nine realms in search of monsters, evil spirits, and unwanted creatures to vanquish with a single slash from his trusted spirit sword. It is said that this swordsman possesses a range of special abilities many of which are enhanced by the ghost of vengeance which plagues his mind and body. Super speed, lightning-fast reflexes, enhanced vision, smell, hearing, and strength. These are just a few of the abilities the cursed samurai is capable of. But his most prized possession, the most…

It gets dark very early this time of year this far north. By 4:00 PM, the sun is already set, and dusk is upon us. Definitely not the ideal conditions for a girl who looks as young as I do to be walking home alone. The route that I’d chosen from the Junior high school to the house was particularly off the beaten track and took me through several tranquil and deserted areas of town. No parent with even a shred of love in their heart for their child would allow them to make this walk at any time of year, let alone in the depths of winter. It was just after I’d passed the cemetery and was about to…

Paul was a security guard at the Silent Centre Museum in Oak Heart. Though he had been working there for a while now, he had never worked the night shift. Anthony was usually the guy who did, but he was currently on vacation. That would mean it would be up to Paul to take over that shift. “Paul, we need to talk,” Anthony said to him, coming in for his shift that day. They had never spoken to one another before, so it was strange for Anthony to start a conversation now. “Sure, man, what’s up?” Paul answered, figuring it was due to their work protocol differences, as he put his gear away. Anthony looked around, making sure they were…

There’s a quote I once read, buried in some forgotten philosophy book: “To peel away the layers of the world is to expose what hides beneath, and what hides beneath is not meant to be seen.” At the time, it seemed like one of those lines people throw around when they want to sound profound, but they don’t really know what it means. The kind of thing you hear at a party from someone who’s had one too many drinks and thinks they’re the next Nietzsche. I’d rolled my eyes at it then, thought it was all too abstract to have any real meaning. But now… now I can’t stop thinking about it. The words gnaw at me. They crawl…

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, I understand that maybe it was fate that brought me here, fate that dragged me to the front steps of a nightmare. I remember that…

Eric, my precious little boy. Just look at those precious eyes! They’re big and bulging out of their sockets, staring in opposite directions. He has such a nice face—sure, he’s missing a nose, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Now, look at that wide smile and those white, clean teeth. I helped brush them yesterday; don’t they look nice? They look nice to me! See that striped sweater of his? Yeah, I bought it for him at a thrift store, but he doesn’t seem to show any emotion towards me, even though I got him some good clothes. I told my wife about our son, but she said something I wasn’t aware of: “Dear, our child has been dead for…

June 17th, 2024 My therapist suggested I start writing my thoughts down in a journal, saying it will supposedly help me understand and process my emotions, and I’ll get to know myself better as a result. I am sceptical, but what the hell, I’ll give it a shot! I have never kept a journal before, so I have no clue how to start… Uhm, hello, I guess. I’m me and I’m writing this to myself… Do I introduce myself now? To whom? I already know myself, and I highly doubt anyone else is ever going to read this, except my therapist maybe. I’m just rambling about nothing to a bunch of pages now, I can’t really think of anything interesting…

This whole story started three days ago. I was on the bus, listening to music, when I spotted a black umbrella on one of the empty seats. At first, I hesitated to take it. It may sound strange, but I always feel a little guilty taking something that doesn’t belong to me, even when it’s abandoned. However, it never lasts very long and I end up taking it home. If I don’t get it back, who will? I grabbed it as I got off the bus. It was a bit of a windfall. That day, it was pouring with rain and, like an idiot, I had come without my k-way. As I began to open it, I was surprised to…

Monica knew that whatever this was, impersonating him was not her best friend. His skin hung loosely upon his frame. His eye sockets were sunken and dark, and only two tiny dots shone within the swirling darkness. When he walked, he dragged his feet. He no longer spoke, and yet everyone else thought it was normal. ‘How could this be normal?’ she thought to herself. Was everyone seeing the same person as her? Monica knew what to do, but first, she needed proof. So she set up a camera one evening, inviting him over to her home. When Monica excused herself and left him alone, she hoped it would let its guard down and reveal what it was. Upon reviewing…

I never thought much about puppets. They were relics of another time, something my grandparents might have found amusing before the age of screens. I’d seen them in dusty attics and antique shops, their faces painted in stiff, eternal grins. They were lifeless, inert things that didn’t deserve a second thought. But that was before it came to town. It started in the early days of October, when the air was thick with the promise of decay and endings. The traveling puppet show arrived without fanfare—no posters, no announcements. One day, there was simply a tent in the empty lot at the edge of town, its canvas tattered but grand, striped red and black like a bloodstained circus. Kids at…

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. But this story takes place in a much deeper place, deep below the wretched facade of the family friendly mouse. This story takes place in a world below the Utilidors, a place that a very low amount of people know about, and that even fewer believe…

I want to start by saying that if you’re someone who thinks the beta of Luigi’s Mansion is better than the final game, you’re wrong. The beta is complete garbage, and I know this because I worked at Nintendo as part of the team that developed the game. I was a game developer and assistant during the process. Also, if you’re hoping to play the beta, you won’t be able to. Even if the ROM hacking community targets it, they won’t be able to recreate it entirely or accurately. It was the early 2000s, and we were preparing the game for Space World. I’m grateful to have been part of the development team, and I’m glad the game became as…

I don’t know how much I can tell you readers. How much he will let me tell you! I thought this was a gift, for so long I did what he asked of me. Every “New Material” I brought him. Everytime he promised me a glimpse of paradise that he promised to take me too.. It must be nearly 700 years now since that time I took his “Gifts”, from that time he first showed me paradise. Now it’s my curse.. My affliction. You see I was first born in the 1300s, close to what you modern humans call “Kazakhstan”. Life was basically living out of mud and wooden huts, eating what you kill… Growing what you could and hoping…

What is more loyal than a friend but also as sticky as chewing gum? At first glance, the question may seem strange. Well! OK! It’s strange. It was asked of me by a drunk friend in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party. Let’s just say it quickly left my mind. And yet, as short and abstract as it is, it has the merit of resonating with my situation. Before getting to the heart of the matter, let me tell you more about it. I am a director of shadow plays, also known as “shadow puppetry.” These are those famous silhouettes that you create using your body or objects. For my part, I have chosen to prioritize the use…

Nyoka lived in Giverny, where she owned a bakery shop called Reverie. She was beautiful with her long golden curly hair that went to her waist and bright blue eyes. The townsfolk swore that she looked straight out of a fairytale. Nyoka always ensured that everything she baked, from the sweet to the savory, was made ‘just right.’ She aspired always to make people smile and feel welcome in her bakery. Berard, however, disliked Nyoka. He said she was too nice and fooled all the townspeople. He needed to get rid of her, but the only way to do that was to ensure they were alone. It had been raining that day, and he saw her walking in the rain…

Through these old records, I will inform you of the incident that occurred years ago in a small village named Crete. I am a scholar and investigator who will notify you of the research I have gathered about the local college in Crete. I will give the reader a brief overview of the school’s origins. Built in the 1760s, the University of Crete became the village’s first to offer academic programs. In 1765, it was built as a fully functional institution that the Board of Education authorized. The workers hired to build the halls were instructed not to venture unnecessarily through the tunnels within the basement. At first glance, the school appeared to be like any other. Through further view,…

The village of Driftwood Cove sat at the edge of the world—or so it felt. Waves crashed endlessly against jagged cliffs, their spray licking the stones like hungry tongues. The cries of gulls mingled with the low whispers of old sailors’ tales, carried on the wind like secrets best left unspoken. Here, the sea ruled everything, its storms a reminder of its unrelenting power, its rare moments of calm a fleeting grace. At the heart of the village, an ancient inn leaned against the wind, its timbers groaning with age. Inside, villagers gathered in uneasy silence by the hearth, their words low and deliberate. They spoke of a thing—a presence—they called the Lantern Man. “Don’t follow the light.”, muttered old…

(Authors note: This is a rewrite of my first ever pasta from the creepypasta wiki. I hope you all enjoy!) There’s lots of rumors going around our town here, rumors that there’s something or someone in the woods, watching, waiting for people to lose themselves in the oaks and pines before they strike. I’ve heard all the stories, sightings of things in the woods that don’t belong, a man with a goat skull, little grey men, and many other supposed “sightings” of creatures that can’t exist. I remember that the rumors started with the disappearance of Ian Kladaki, way back in 1989 when he went on a hiking and camping  trip with his friends, and although they weren’t the first…

When Jade was only twelve-years-old, her father came home one afternoon with his arms and legs covered in claw marks. Jade felt confused and excited about his appearance. While she didn’t like seeing her dad hurt, she wondered if he finally bought her the cat or dog she wanted. He wasn’t good with animals and she figured it must have attacked him on the car ride home. To Jade’s dismay, he didn’t bear hug her or call her his “little troll,” a nickname he gave her for the vibrantly colored hair extensions she always wore. He hurried into the bathroom and shut the door. “Second time. This isn’t good at all,” she heard him say through the door. “I have…

I really like Mario games, and I still do to this day. I have so much love for everything in the games, but the Mario game I enjoyed the most was ‘Luigi’s Mansion.’ That game freaked me out at times, but it was very enjoyable to play, and it’s really cool to hear about it now after first seeing it. I had most of the Mario games, and sometimes I would emulate the games on occasion; why did I do that? Well, I didn’t really own Luigi’s Mansion and such, nor did I own a GameCube. That’s why I had to emulate them to play the games; however, there are some glitches in Luigi’s Mansion, but it was alright. I…