#creepypasta

Please, I don't know what to do. I've tried to tell my wife about this, but she's a science teacher and thanks to my history of practical jokes, she thinks I'm just kidding. There is something stalking me. I don't know what it wants, but almost every night since I started seeing it, it has terrorized me. It doesn't touch me, it doesn't communicate in any sort of way, it just fills me with horror. If what I seem to ramble, please forgive me... I haven't slept in several days.

Caitlin thought she heard something when she threw the last net into the dark water. She turned her head quickly as the sound of the splash faded in her ears. Silence. She eyed the bush nervously but everything was still and quiet. The trees were black now, silhouetted against the twilit sky.

She lived deep in the forest in a tiny cottage and sold herbal remedies for a living. Folks living in the town nearby called her Bloody Mary, and said she was a witch. None dared cross the old crone for fear that their cows would go dry, their food-stores rot away before winter, their children take sick of fever, or any number of terrible things that an angry witch could do to her neighbors.

You wish you had followed your instincts. If only you had not ventured down into the subway tunnel, in pursuit of the masked stranger you had unfortunately encountered less than forty-eight hours ago. You quickly become adjusted to the dim white light, as you look down the seemingly endless tunnel. All too quickly, you feel a quick push and then become aware of the cold rails beneath you. A blinding light gives your eyes cause to squint, as the stars that cloud your eyesight clear. A loud horn…

I can taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Feel it trickle down from the gash at my hairline. The heat is everywhere. With each breath I inhale hot ash. My throat is dry and scalded. The air around me seemed to burn my skin, biting more viciously at my open wounds and scratches. I stopped shaking a while ago. Now my hands are steady. I’m frozen in fear. I probably make easy prey, but I can’t think of anything else to do now. I’m out of ideas.

I could see its glow in the distant. The incandescent lights creating a luring haze. It was so far away, too far in fact. I missed it a lot. The concrete beneath my feet. The harsh air, the noise, the traffic. Most of all the people, the endless throb of people. Out here it’s only a sky, sky that’s way too big and empty. It makes you feel too small. A city may be big; you may feel meaningless but at least your part of something bigger. Out here you realise that there isn’t anything bigger. Just…

It's been about 3 months since I moved into my new apartment on the third floor of a friends friend's complex. It was way cheaper than anything else on the market that a second year college student like myself could afford. Plus I figured a change in scenery from my roommate playing Soft core animated porno games and listening to loud annoying techno music was due.

You may have heard of the Farnsworth experiments. My dad was one of the scientists involved. He rarely talked about it, and when he did he always said the rumors were overplayed. The team tried and failed, nothing more to it. He seemed to get annoyed at me asking him about it. When I kept it up, he eventually told me a brief account of what happened. It was the mid 80s and he was living in Albany, New York, pursuing his phD. This was a year or two after I was born. He began work on a government…

One of the first memories I could recall was my father leaving the family. He didn’t speak a word to us, just walked toward the groves. I never saw him after that day. The part that disturbed me most was how everyone else took this. They all just stood there, watching on with knowing eyes. As if they knew that this day would come eventually.

Screaming. I woke up screaming. Looking around once again to a completely empty room. I panted in the dark, and stared around wildly to make sure I was home in my room. Looking at my bedside table at the clock, it was the same time as before; the dreams were getting worse. 3:30AM. I closed my eyes, when I did, I felt hot breath on my face and the crooked mirthless laughter rang in my ears. The alarm clock went off, and I sat up slowly. Blinking myself awake and looking around the room. The sun…

I’d had them ever since I was a kid. I can remember being incredibly self-conscious about them, hiding them in my pockets under books and bags. The kids at school never said anything to my face, but I knew they were laughing behind my back. I remember asking my parents to take me to the doctor, to get them checked out. The growths on my hands seemed to be the elephant in the room back then, since they’d just say I was fine and change the subject. But I knew better.

-Breaking News – July 27, 2013- A third murder occurs at a luxury hotel just outside of Las Vegas, Nevada. The victims where a mother and her alleged son, little information is known about either of them, or the murderer at this time. Police will continue investigation while the hotel remains open for business. The only sure thing that has been publicly announced was a statement from a house detective staying in the hotel at the time, he said:

Eli fell to the ground and the mud shot into the air and rained back down upon him. A thin layer of this brown liquid covered him from head to toe. He hoped and prayed this masquerade would help him escape. He lifted his head from the puddle and tried to slow down his labored breaths. The guards that were chasing him were nowhere to be found and he didn't hear any talking or crunching of twigs under someones feet. Was he really free? Was this it? The moon hung high in the sky and once he felt…

The bell rang and I lifted myself from my seat and headed out of second period. My back was killing me from sitting in the hard, plastic chair for the past hour and a half; I was ready to get out of there.

On every college campus there is a hallway. Nondescript, tucked away, often on the top floor of a building or off of another hall where only a few classrooms have been placed. It melts into the background of every student’s life; drowned out by the music department or wedged between two lecture halls. Occasionally, a lost freshman will wander down it, running late for their first class. Should such a lost soul wander through that hall, all they will find is a single, empty classroom. This room…

I used to love Lucid dreams but I could only seem to realise I'm dreaming when it's a particularly scary dream, I can always fly away from the threat. That's how I know I'm dreaming, I can then stay and control the narrative. Now I just force myself to wake up. It started with rules. I'm not sure how I know about them, how they were made up or who by.

The area around me became garbed in a bright light as I turned on my flashlight. The room was a disaster area with shelves toppled over, the books spilling on the cold wooden floor. Each piece of furniture had deep gashes in them as if something unholy had ripped into them. To make things worse, the door I had entered through was nothing but splinters, and one of the walls had a splatter of blood on it, already caking and cracking. All of this only added to the fear I was feeling.

Day 3 I was resigned to even writing this journal, and for the first two days I kept my will strong, but even the strongest of minds cannot defeat the allure of distraction from staring at the wall of a cell. This journal entry will probably be the longest of them all. There is a lot to explain about the predicament I find myself in, and the hellhole that I now seem to be imprisoned in for the foreseeable future. To start, I should let you know who I am. I used to be a lawyer. A well off,…

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon when the sobbing echoed through the apartment complex. Everyone rushed outside to find Jacob, kneeling in front of the leafless birch tree, crying. They stared in awe, unsure of what to do. After all, no one knew anything about him. The tenants stood shocked and confused as Jacob's fingers dug into the soil at the base of the tree - scooping handfuls of dirt into his pockets. He continued until his pockets were full, then the crying ceased, just like that. The…

The slight dripping sounds from the kitchen abruptly ended my post vacation buzz as soon as I opened the front door. Knots that I had hoped were lost somewhere on a Hawaiian beach returned to their home in the small of my back as I began the process of doing mental math. The last plumbing mishap relieved me of a month's pay and half of my comic collection. Judging by the competing tones of multiple drips, I told myself this was going to be an expensive plumbing emergency.