#creepypasta

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.

It started suddenly. Autumn was coming to an end, the weather was rapidly deteriorating. Busy streets turned into canals filled with icy water and debris. Thin streams ran along the dirty walls and mixed with the long-term patina of rust. An atmosphere of decay, a thick, viscous feeling.

In the darkest night, where shadows creep, The Soulstitchers come when you should sleep. With gaunt and shadowy forms they stride, To haunted places, they will guide. Their flames are smoke, icy-cold and bleak, A formless fire that none can speak. Frantic movements, masks they wear, Tearing at their faces, a chilling scare. Yet in the silence, they move so sly, No sound to mark their passage by. To the site of trauma, they'll lead you near, In hopes that you will face your fear.

For most people, the art of programming is to fill desires left unaccomplished in reality. For some, it is to pay their bills in an effort to have a home. And for others, it may not be so heart-warming and wholesome most of the time. It may be to sacrifice. To reawaken. To find. 1995, Lubbock, Texas -

Like me, if you were born during the 2000s, you probably grew up watching Cartoon Network, and if you watched Cartoon Network as a kid, then you most definitely watched "The Amazing World of Gumball." This story is about what my best friend and I saw when we went to visit Elmore. If you google "Gumball house IRL," you can actually find the address of the real-life house. In fact, every building in Elmore is real. Gumball’s house, the mall, and the school—they’re all there. But in the pictures,…

Bordering my property line, a manufactured home is left to be devoured by mother nature, abandoned. I have owned my property for multiple years, and, throughout that time, an owner has never been present, nor had I seen anything suspicious — until recently.

I don’t know what actually caused it, or what the “entity” even was. All I know is that if I don’t tell this story I’m going to go crazy. I think it’s best to just start at the beginning and I’ll allow you to make what you will out of these words. I don’t expect many people to believe me, I mean personally I wouldn’t believe it if I heard it from a stranger. But I know at least some, maybe even just one in a thousand will believe what I have said. Those few are who this story is for and knowing…

By now you may have heard about Blank Paige, maybe even from my posts about her on r/creepypasta, if you have you're probably wondering about how I met her, well I'll tell you, It was a few years ago, but don't let that give you the wrong idea about your odds if you meet her.

It's almost seven. Zoya leans back in her chair, stretching her arms with heavy sighs after a fifteen-page essay. It's due tomorrow, so there's still time for edits - but she's been staring at her screen too long. She peeks out her bedroom window to the right. The last creeping bands of pink and orange sun grow dim across the barren treetops of the forest nearby, bleeding into the horizon beyond her corner of the suburb. The autumn air is cool and fresh, the wind is tame and her work is done…

It's stuck in my mind, trapped and buried in the deepest regions, only to resurface when my mind wonders. I'll be on the brink of sleep, drifting off when the haunting memories return to me. It was to become a man they told me, but it simply made me less of a human.

Evening at the McManus estate – a postmodern building with large glass windows.

“Come on James!” I hurriedly whispered. “Coming man!” James replied quietly. We had been walking back from a long day at the park, playing football, buying some snack and being a general nuisance to the birds that wanted to pick up crumbs from the ground. Our walk from and to the park took us around the outskirts of a condemned neighbourhood, and though we were slightly spooked by the general vibes being given off the place during the day, it was nowhere near as creepy and grotesque during the…

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a collection of "Horror Haiku" short poetry about Greek Mythology Monsters & Creatures. There are 5 poems about each creature. The idea behind this is to try guessing the name of each creature before unveiling the final Haiku. Three-headed hound guards, Entrance to the underworld, Terror from within. Beneath the moon's light, Fiery eyes, sharp teeth, red tongues, Hound of Hades' realm. Guarding the abyss, Three jaws, fangs dripping venom, Preys on the lost souls.

I was around 8 at the time, when I was told to go to bed at 8:00 pm. My parents would just watch TV whilst I'm in bed until midnight. I was very obedient at the time as well, the only reason I would get out of bed after 8:00 is to either grab some water or head to the bathroom. However, that was only until that night when I was too scared to even do both of those things.

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?

I don't want to burst anyone's bubble, here… so if you believe in haunted "Lost Episode" legends and enjoy living in that world, maybe this isn't the post for you. Don't get me wrong - I hate when people complain about "lack of realism" in entertainment, and I think all kids need to believe in Santa and the Tooth Fairy for as long as possible, but… this is different.

Mankind should learn to stop its curious nature before it becomes our undoing. If only they knew what we knew, they would not want us to continue to search the depths of the God forsaken oceans. The horrors we saw through our newest equipment is something that I still can not grip my mind around. It plagues me to the point where when I'm done recounting my story, I will join the crew of project X-2. God or Gods that may claim me, please have mercy on my soul.

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.

In the murky confines of the Slums, a stray cat and its drone companion, B-12, scuttled along the endless expanse of labyrinthine alleys, the drone's light casting an eerie glow on the moss-ridden walls and dilapidated machinery. The cat, a feline anomaly in this mechanical world, surveyed their surroundings with gleaming eyes, ears perked to the distant hum of rusted gears and sputtering engines. B-12, his thrusters operating on silent, ensured they remained undetected by the wandering robotic…

In the fall of 1979 Martin “Marty” Joseph was a 23-year-old rookie highway patrolman with the Pennsylvania State Police.  Marty was fresh out of the academy, and before that had been a star football player at Temple University in Philadelphia, before returning to his native Western Pennsylvania to attend the State Police Academy. He was tall, stout and handsome by traditional standards. Dark brown hair that he kept high and tight in accordance with the state police regulations. He had dark…