#creepypasta

My name is Edward Polist, and for most of my life I was a detective. People used to say I had a gift for seeing things others missed, that I could notice patterns hidden in chaos, that I could follow the smallest detail until it led me somewhere real. I believed them, maybe more than I should have. My work became the only thing that made sense to me, the only place where the world followed rules. Evidence led to answers, actions had consequences, and nothing simply happened without a reason.…

Hi, my name is Michael. This happened a few years ago, on Halloween. It’s something I haven’t told anyone properly. Not like this. Not in full. But I think about it almost every night… and it doesn’t feel like it’s fading. It was supposed to be a normal Halloween.

Hi, my name is Mandy, and ever since I was little, I’ve loved Barbie dolls. Honestly… I still do to this day. One time, when my parents went on vacation and I had to stay home alone, I got really bored. At first it felt nice, but after a while there was nothing to do. So I started browsing the internet, searching for random things, just trying to pass the time.

Good day. My name is not important. What matters is what I found… and what I was never supposed to find. This document comes from archived police records dated back to the late 1980s. I discovered it by accident while going through old, partially damaged files. At first, I thought it was just another closed case, something routine, something forgotten for a reason.

Hi, my name is Paul Lipson. People used to call me Henry. As a child, I was born with a Siamese twin. My twin could not see me, but sometimes… sometimes he controlled my body or whispered thoughts into my mind. At first, it was subtle—a hand I didn’t want to move, a voice I didn’t speak—but as I grew older, the whispers became screams.

“This is still dumb,” says George.  He holds up the stack of note-cards, squints at them through the flicker of the firelight.  “I mean, it’s real dumb.” Our campfire has started to burn low in the gathering dark, and the embers swirl up and away in a sudden gust of autumn wind.  I shiver, and I pause the video I’m recording long enough to pick up another log.

This story was archived and was sent to me by a 12-year-old woman from a small town in coastal South Georgia, near the Florida line, who just lost their family due to mysterious circumstances. Here’s their story: My parents have been gone for quite some time, and I always prayed for them to come home. I live alone, and I sat on the couch, holding my blanket until I saw my front door open slightly.

Supernatural Horror Part 1 I hoped Rockwood prison would be my golden ticket: a paid internship as a political science major and a front-row seat to Warden Britanthony Snow's grand experiment, rehabilitation over punishment. A few years ago, I had made a drunken and reckless mistake. I drove my car into the concession stand of a skating rink injuring my boyfriend, his little brother, and the girl he was cheating with.

“Jalen, you sell drugs?” “What? No.” “Family sell drugs?” I laughed. “You for real right now?” His stoic face answered for him. “Not that it should matter, but I don’t really have a family. So, no, they aren’t kingpins in the drug game.” “Consider yourself lucky. No family is the way to go. No hassles. No buying gifts for ungrateful nieces and nephews who think just because you own a coupla properties, you’re Diamond Jim Brady. Gives me heartburn just thinkin’ about it.”

When I was a child, I recall a show called Fear the Devil; it was something that my parents allowed me to watch. They thought it was just another biblical show in a similar vein to content like VeggieTales and The Beginner’s Bible. It was created in 1999 and ran for thirteen episodes before it was pulled from the air. Private schools and churches refused to play it, and anyone who discussed it in too much detail risked being kicked out permanently.

Subject: I think I found my living room on a Deep Web website, but the rug is the wrong color. Entry 1: Posted 3 hours ago. I’m shaking while I type this. I always been a digital explorer... another idiot who browses the Deep Web just to see the weird things people host. Mostly it’s just broken links or forums for people obsessed with 90s stuff. But tonight I found a site called The Staging.

After facing the Black Figure, the spirit of Genia Zianok was reborn in Dandy's World. He gained special powers over the virtual realm. At that moment, Genia's system file transferred into the DW game files. This made him more present to lure his target. The developers tried to erase the file to remove Genia's influence, but most of their efforts failed. A strange incident occurred when Genia invaded the BlushCrunch Studios Discord server.

“Peter, can you even see anything up there?” Harry, the oldest yet least mature forest Ranger, said over the two-way. High on my perch in Tower 3, I had a full three hundred sixty degree view of A_____ National Forest that stretched out to the horizon. This was a dumb joke he liked to ask every time I drew the short straw for this position. “Yes, vision is clear. No smoke. No fires. No adverse weather conditions.”

I am not trying to pull any Shane Dawson conspiracies, like saying a specific pizza joint’s pizza is recycled, or at the very least, this isn’t about Chuck E. Cheese. Also, I should warn you that if you are eating pizzas or, at the very least, very squeamish about what I am going to speak about and are uncomfortable with the mention of arteries and stuff. Please stop reading beyond this point; however, this may be important to read regardless.

I've always seen strange stuff, but this one's not a theory or anything. This is an actual experience I had once with VHS tapes. It even felt so confusing that it changed my point of view on SpongeBob. Just for a few days.

There were plenty of games to play with. My favorite genre was Horror, which a horror movie titled The Exorcist introduced me to. A lot of those times, we were guests and had tix. There were a lot of enjoyable places and horror, too. However, I found a game called “RUN”, with an unnerving icon. The description explained how we spawn in a creepy forest out of nowhere, and if you find the skinwalker, you will die. It seemed a lot interesting to me, as I love horror so much, so I joined.

I have been playing for a long time, and I had a lot of friends, but I had discovered this one game that creeped me out, other than that one skinwalker game.

Do any of you know one of these old roblox games? That was called “HERE, where the world is quiet.” That was one of those old obscure games on the internet as you were scrolling on the Roblox website. It was made by an account, known to be made by one of the admins of Roblox. They were being claimed as a myth, but however, this has since been debunked. Now let’s get my experience going.

Have you ever wished to go back? Even if it was just for a short while? I’ve seen many collapse under the weight of reality and instead choose the comfort of rose-colored glasses. It’s strange how we accept language for what it is and rarely question its origins. Take idioms, for instance—we use them every day with carelessness, never respecting their weight or power. I hear you hurl them into the void, not realizing how close you are to unveiling a path not meant to be traversed. These phrases…

“Dude, SHUT UP!” “What?” “Yeah, he’s right so please shut up. You’ve been telling the same exact setup, it is always something like someone just hunting a guy down and then everybody dying. Be original for once.” My friend, let’s call her Lucy, said to Jake. I threw my head back and laughed as I put the melted marshmallow inside the s'mores, broke chocolate bars, and slid them inside of the graham crackers.