#creepypasta

This incident that I'm about to narrate to you here has been retold by me to almost all of my family and friends just so that I can get a sane explanation of what happened that night.

A magician came to our town one dreary day after a large thunderstorm. He carried a briefcase that he claimed was filled with people's hopes and dreams. The briefcase was large and wrapped in an exotic coating. Many witnesses described seeing it move under the magician's grasp.

I have a fear of heights. My fear is... quite recent and it’s only affected me now. I’m sure that by the end of my little story you’ll find my new found fear quite rational. When I was younger I would love to shimmy up trees or climb up small hills. I liked to explore outside a lot.

Two people, a man and a woman, were deep in the woods, running aimlessly. Sounds of the blaring sirens were still in the distance, but the despicable duo had long since abandoned their weapons in the hopes of diverting the authorities from conducting further research into their whereabouts. They were deep in the woods when the sirens faded. The two breathed a sigh of relief.

It was just a normal day, except that’s what I thought… I was wrong. On February 24, 2024, I learned the truth, what goes on in this little town, Blue Springs, Missouri. It was about 5 days before my family and I were gonna leave to go on a trip up to Chicago, but some strange things started to happen…It's hard to explain. I mean it’s not normal what happened to me, not at all. It was almost like I got a sense someone or something was watching me from afar, but it wasn’t comforting, you know?…

I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home we pass, a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. It reminds us that we are still living. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all.

When the Wind Blows. That was a title I hadn’t heard in a long time. It was just obviously a British animated film based on a graphic novel by Raymond Briggs. You know, the guy who did The Snowman? It centered around an elderly couple then one day, word came out that war would break out in three days. The graphic novel was written around the height of the Cold War. The threat of nuclear war was as high as it is now.

Fran Laurent was a curious girl. She was a good student, kind and soft-spoken, but the other children avoided her. She liked to sit on the grass near the school fence, making little houses out of sticks and leaves. She rather enjoyed her time this way. In fact , she didn’t mind being alone, because her one true friend in the world was always there for her, waiting patiently at home. He was a beautiful black cat she had named Mr. Midnight.

I have never been a good flyer. Anxiety mixed with a fear of heights makes airplanes my personal hell. Currently, I find myself in the terminal solely for my mother. She was diagnosed with cancer recently and is rapidly deteriorating. My mom is the only person in my immediate family I truly care about, as I have no siblings and my father passed away years ago. Flying is the only option to reach her before she passes. With each passing minute, my anxiety intensifies. The plane has been delayed…

“Can I tell you a story Boss?”

The warnings first came through on social media. It was a fairly ordinary Sunday morning as I sat behind the intriguing screen of my computer. For some many hours I had been checking my feed on Facebook, when an article caught my eye. Now, I'm not some sucker who gets drawn to obviously fake messages spawned by trolls online, but hey, it was Sunday and I was bored. One of my friends had shared an article entitled 'The end', and if I had half my wits about me then I wouldn't have even…

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…

I woke up like I would every other time I tried to sleep; Drenched in sweat, shivering, afraid to go back to sleep. I have this recurring dream about something to do with static. I can't quite remember exactly what happens though. I glance over at my clock, it read 3:00 am. I sigh attempting to release all my bad thoughts out of my mind. I hop out of bed as quickly as possible —too afraid to go back to that dream— and scurry over to the bathroom mirror. ‘My bags have gotten worse,’ I thought…

"I dunno Chris, eldritch abominations are kind of old hat at this point " My brother Terry had said after reading over a rough draft of the latest story I was writing. His words stung more than I think he intended them to because though I wouldn't admit it outright, I knew that they were true. "Oh come on Terry! I don't have to reinvent the wheel every time I sit down to write." I had huffed back at him somewhat annoyed.

Has anyone ever told you about the Night of the Emerald moon? It seems to be a tale passed on through generations in my hometown. Halloween originated in Ireland from our beliefs of a night that thinned the vail between our world and that of the spirits. The night of the emerald moon is known to thin the veil so finely that the more dark and deadly entities can have free reign among the town. The legend goes that the village council of Ballyfer deeply offended a lone traveller who was passing…

My fiancée, Robert, had gone to his best friend Lewis’ house for a night of gaming and movies. You know, Guy’s Night In. I personally imagine a lot of manly grunting and crude jokes. Anyway, at around 5 pm he kissed me and said goodbye. I spent most of the evening working on my art. Drawing commissions are a pain because usually, what inspires my client is usually one of the things that turns my creative wheels the least.

I’ve been here before. Felt the sweat beating down my brow. That God awful sound. Droning on and on and on. The room is cramped. The people in it are loud. Noisy. “…and you find this watch on the beach. What the watchmaker analogy alludes to is… ” Blah, blah, blah. Philosophy of Religion. Jesus Christ.

Sarah rolled over, glancing at the digital clock resting on her nightstand. She groaned when she saw the green numbers read 2:59 am. As she started to roll over again, a flash of lightning lit up her room and she froze. Her eyes darted to her bedroom window where she thought she had seen a dark figure climbing in, until another flash of lightning proves there’s nothing there. Sarah sighed and rolled over, mumbling to herself. She closed her eyes, drifting back into peaceful slumber.

The following text is from a topic I found in the "/r/deepdream" subreddit. The thread has since been deleted. I had the same thread open in two tabs, so luckily I was able to copy the text from the second tab after I'd refreshed the first and found that the link was now dead. Submitted 6 hours ago by AlMord0

Dear Diary, I do not know how long it has been since I've experienced my last surge of brilliance. You see, I'm an established author. Albeit a published one - renowned to most for my fictional writings in dystopian novels.