#creepypasta

It started as a whisper in the static. I bought the old farmhouse on the edge of Blackwood township because the price was impossibly low, and the solitude was exactly what I needed to finish my thesis. Clara, my girlfriend of three years, was hesitant to move out there with me, but she eventually agreed, hoping the fresh air would do us both some good. We were wrong.

STATEMENT OF MICHAEL COLLINS Unnecessary sounds, such as “ums” and “ahs” have been omitted from the following statement for the purpose of making this statement easier to read. Det. Lori Denny: Mr. Collins, thank you for coming, I'm Detective Denny. I would like to remind you that our conversation will be recorded… With that out of the way, how are you doing? Need a coffee or water? I can get one for you.

Have You Ever Had A Sibling That You Couldn't Stand All The Time And You Wish They Would Go Away Completely,Well Let Me Just Say That Wish May Seem Good At First,And Now Years Later I Regret Making That Wish,When I Was Kid I Had A Little Sister Named Abby Who Was An Absolute Pest Who Gotten Away With Many Things Due To My Parents Favoring Her Over Me,At The Time I was 13 and She Was 7,Being 7 Abby Would Always Cause Things To Make Me Mad By Going Into My Room And Taking My Things,She Would…

In December of 2015, Marceline Nightingale was declared missing. The lack of evidence, like many other older cases in this town, entices me. Maybe if this one could be solved so could the other ones.

My name is Marcus. For the past six years, my friend Jace and I have run a small urban exploration channel online, documenting the decaying remnants of closed theme park attractions. Most of the time, "abandoned" Disney properties are a disappointment—stripped down to bare concrete, scrubbed of anything interesting, and guarded by motion sensors that trigger local rent-a-cops within minutes. We thought Epcot’s Wonders of Life pavilion would be more of the same.

Hynensborgs Skogar Det höll på att bli höst i staden Hynensborg, en av årets mörkaste och regnigaste perioder. Det är också den tid då unga människor vill fördriva tiden med något, då folk ofta sätter sig tillsammans runt en eldspruta och berättar mörka historier för varandra. En grupp kemistudenter och vänner – Noah, Freyr och Vidar – bestämde sig för att spendera en av septemberkvällarna under den inledande helgen på precis det sättet... Befriade från vardagens bekymmer och oro bestämde de…

There’s a floor in my apartment building that doesn’t exist. Not Thirteen. That would be too cliché. Although, it doesn’t have a thirteenth floor, but not for supernatural reasons. It just doesn’t go that high. Some of the residents call it Floor Three and a Half, or Three and Three-quarters to invoke a Harry Potter vibe, but both of those are far too whimsical for my tastes. I just call it the Dead Floor, which I know isn’t any less cliché than floor Thirteen, but it feels appropriate.

Notice: This is 'section 2' of the story Ad Nauseam, I have ran into a unique issue due to the size of Ad Nauseam that I had to make this separate story just to continue until said issue is fixed; if you are new and interested please begin reading here: https://nightscri.be/s/89368/ad-nauseam If you are caught up to Chapter 33 then continue to the next page and enjoy! If you came later during this whole max size debacle, then you can skip some.

I was bored out of my mind at two in the morning, scrolling through random, dead forums on my phone, when I found the link. It was dropped in the middle of a five-year-old message thread on a public archive site, with no context other than a string of numbers that looked like coordinates. Curiosity got the better of me. I clicked it, and my phone automatically opened Discord, pulling me straight into an invite screen.

There are plenty of abandoned places at Walt Disney World. Most people know about River Country. But there was another one. A place almost nobody remembers. Willie’s Fishin’ Adventure! It opened on February 16, 2002. Exactly four years later, on February 16, 2006, it closed. And that was supposed to be the end of it. It wasn't. I first heard about Willie’s Fishin’ Adventure! because of an old attraction list.

Most people know about Disney's famous parks. Fewer know that Disney has experimented with smaller attractions around Florida. These included traveling exhibits, promotional experiences, and temporary entertainment venues. Most were documented, but some quietly vanished.  Growing up in St. Petersburg, an older neighbor occasionally mentioned one place when Disney came up. Oswald's Play House. Whenever someone brought it up, the conversation always ended the same way.  "...It closed after…

I've been a bartender for 6 years. I cover the bar and take drink-orders from the wait-staff. Last week, one of the waitresses, Leslie, set an order-slip on the bar. It said: "Table 11 -- Angel Shot" My eyes grew wide. I'm pretty sure you know why, but I'll explain it anyway: Ordering an "Angel Shot" is bar-code for "I'm in trouble -- help me!" It's a way for a vulnerable woman to surreptitiously call for help. All bartenders know this.

I'm sure you know what Disney's utilidors are by now. If you haven't heard, beneath Disney World, there's a massive underground network of hallways and doors that connects the attractions and sections of the park. This is so that nobody sees the people working in the park, specifically to keep the park feeling magical and keep the illusion alive.

We didn’t have much to do. Not in Cairo, Georgia anyway. That’s Cairo pronounced with a ‘k’. Kay-Row. Not like the one in Egypt. Instead of pyramids, we had our beloved Cairo High Syrupmakers. But besides those Friday Night Lights, we didn’t have jack shit to be honest. Just an old theater and a museum downtown. There wasn’t much us twelve-year-olds could do even this close to Halloween.

I still can’t sleep with the basement door shut. Even three years later, every time the house settles, I find myself staring at the handle, half-expecting it to slowly turn.

Julian Vance had always been the forgotten child. While other teenagers spent their weekends with friends, he spent his days in the basement restoring antique dolls and carving porcelain into lifelike figures that seemed capable of almost breathing. Every scratch of his tools hushed the noise in his head, a place where nobody could interrupt him. His younger sister, Chloe, however, always found a way. To her, breaking Julian's creations was entertainment, and to their parents, it was simply…

Having just finished my Master’s in Classical archaeology, I decided to celebrate by trekking my way through Italy. I spent about a week in Rome seeing the usual sites and eventually I made my way south down to Sorrento.  But backpacking through Italy wasn’t just for leisure, it was actual fieldwork — well, sort of.

For anyone who's reading this story I just want to give the huge disclaimer and saying the story is written on a fictional perspective and written for entertainment purposes, this story also contains blood gore and is made for mature audiences, I've written the story around 20-22 and at the time I was into creepypastas, I basically wrote these stories for fun and I wanted to be on the creepy side so please sit back and enjoy the stories that I wrote.

First, I need to describe my appearance. It's important because if you ever see someone who looks exactly like the person I'm about to describe, that is not me, and it is not human.

He had no idea how he had ended up in these foul depths, but all he knew was that he needed to find a way out before it was too late. The young Dragonnoid had sworn to himself he would never go into the city, so why was he wandering lost in its forsaken bowels?