#creepypasta

When I was in high school, my friends and I had a peculiar pastime. Like any teenage delinquent, we liked to cause trouble. We weren’t vandals, we didn’t deal drugs, and we certainly didn’t bully kids in school. No, we liked to scare the living shit out of new parents by “hacking” their baby monitors. We were insufferable little punks who thought we were too good to get caught, and that our little acts of mischief would go unpunished. One night; however, I learned my lesson, and realized that I…

Sunday I’m not sure why I’m writing this down on paper and not on my computer. I guess I’ve just noticed some odd things. It’s not that I don’t trust the computer… I just… need to organize my thoughts. I need to get down all the details somewhere objective, somewhere I know that what I write can’t be deleted or… changed… not that that’s happened. It’s just… everything blurs together here, and the fog of memory lends a strange cast to things…

I was staying at a hotel in Chicago Illinois during a business trip and I was going to stay for the whole weekend. It was an older hotel, one that still used small keys rather than keycards to enter the rooms. I didn't mind, it seemed nice to get away from the onslaught of technology.

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything related to the Disney Corporation, and I’m sure you can understand why. A lot has been going on since my last post. I’ve received a lot of questions and concerns from folks who read my first-hand account of Mowgli’s Palace… a resort that was built and abandoned by Disney.

In June 1972, a woman appeared in Cedar Senai hospital in Los Angeles, California in nothing but a white, blood-covered gown. Now this, in itself, should not be too surprising as people often have accidents nearby and come to the nearest hospital for medical attention, but there were two things that caused people who saw her to vomit and flee in terror. The first being that she wasn't exactly human. she resembled something close to a mannequin, but had the dexterity and fluidity of a normal…

I’d actually seen him on our way home from school. He looked dirty and disturbed, and stared straight at us as our bus went by. We even made jokes about him, probably as our way of pretending we weren’t afraid. He was incredibly out of place in our middle class suburb, so his mere presence felt threatening… thus our panic when the three of us got off at our stop and saw him at the corner, about to look in our direction.

“Daddy, I had a bad dream.” You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness — it’s 3:23. “Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?” “No, Daddy.” The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter’s pale form in the darkness of your room. “Why not, sweetie?” “Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy’s skin sat up.”

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn’t kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running…

In 1999, my family visited Disneyland. We happily rode the Small World ride. I was 12 at the time and my sister was 6. We loved every moment and our parents smiled with nostalgia. At one time near the end, some lights suddenly shut off and rear lights illuminated the ceiling. The moving display parts shut off and crew members wearing red overalls walked along them to help passengers in the boats onto the stages to direct them out of the building via emergency exits.

August 13th, 1921 Prof. Herbert Clayton Children's Ward St. Mary's Childrens Hospital Fife, Scotland Dear Professor, My trusted friend and mentor, I write to you in the hope that you may advise me on a matter of urgency concerning a patient of mine. Edward is a boy of just nine years who arrived with his mother six days ago with a disposition so positive that we did not at first admit him. This did not last long.

You take the pills to keep them away. That’s what we were told when we were first brought down here--down through the sterile white halls with their flickering fluorescent lights, and our small, Spartan cells. Down into the nightmare. Why would we agree to this?

For me, life was a whirlwind of lights and smoke, music and men. I lived in a beaten up shanty close to North Edsa, crammed in a closet-like room with a bunch of other woman. We slept on mats on the dirt floor and shared the space with mange-infested dogs, flea-bitten cats and cockroaches. My wardrobe consisted mostly of skimpy skirts, tank tops and the cheapest high heels you can buy in Quiapo.

My husband and I loved each other very much, but just as most couples we would get into arguments. Out biggest argument always revolved around a single disagreement: children. I wanted children, he did not.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me. And that's when you met me. "What... what happened?" You asked. "Where am I?" "You died," I said, matter-of-factly. No point mincing words. "There was a...a truck and it was skidding..." "Yup." I said "I... I died?"

The year was 1942, and I was a young Jewish boy who was sent to the concentration camp, Auschwitz. My brother and I were separated from our parents a couple weeks back, and haven’t seen them since. We were attempting to make it across the border to Russia in order to escape the Nazis, but we weren’t fast enough, and they quickly caught up. My brother, Alois, was two years older than me, and went to Auschwitz when we were caught. Unfortunately, he died on the fourth day from too much hard labor.

Let me start off by saying that Peter Terry was addicted to heroin.

This is a prequel to Abandoned by Disney — Suggestion: We could use another person at check-in during peak hours. Suggestion: Please move the hot dog cart away from the main water slide. Also please have water slide staff keep an eye out for children who just ate. When anyone gets sick in there, three or four people have to go through it before we know about it.

If you have ever been in a near-death experience, you may have seen your life "flash" before your eyes. I've asked several people about this. They said that it was like they went through their whole life in a second. That's not too far fetched. Your brain likes to avoid stress, so that it does not have to deal with facing death. So if your brain was to think you were going to die, it would go to the easiest way to escape: memory. So when it comes close to the end, your brain turns on every…

My friends and I used to do a lot of geocaching after our senior year in high school. For those who don’t know what geocaching is, it’s essentially a worldwide scavenger hunt. People will select sites and conceal a “geo-cache” somewhere unobtrusive, then post GPS coordinates on geocaching websites where other searchers can download the cords and locate the cache. Usually, people who have found the object (often it’s a chest or something hollow) will leave a note or small personal memento for…

My brother was a whopping eleven years older than me, so I don't remember much of when he was still living with us during his college years. I was only thirteen when he moved out. But he was always weird. His self-professed hobby was to watch people. I remember there were times when he would pick me up from school, and, as we drove home in the afternoon sunlight, we would see something like a group of children walking home in their uniforms, and those little mundane scenes--old ladies feeding…