#madness

My whole life is stuck in a routine others seem to benefit from, whereas I only suffer. Day after day, it's the same thing; Smile. Don't complain. Don't burden other people. Be quiet. Smile. Repeat. No one suspected a thing - My lie must have been pretty deceiving. But I could only hope that one day - hopefully one day soon - someone would figure it out, and save me. That day came close, so close that I could taste it, could feel it within my reach, but I messed up. I messed up, and forgot…

His face never changes. It's pale white. His eyes are grey, empty. Wide. So fucking wide. I can't take my own eyes off of them and because I can't, I feel them painfully dry up, just as his should. But they don't. He never closes them. He's always, always watching.

Sally Gregory folded her arms across her chest. Her brother, Samuel Gregory, tossed his baseball from hand to hand, a devilish half grin on his face, while his grey eyes challenged Sally. Around him were his gang, a group of boys that went to school with her and Samuel, that were chanting, “Chicken! Chicken! Sally is a chicken!” Sally glared at her brother’s gang. Sally was not one to be made fun of. The name calling derived from the fact that she was a girl, and needed to prove her worth to…

My first memory would be that of my boy hood in the summer of 1995. When I was only 12 years old my mother, my brother, and I had recently moved in to a new home apartment. Which, now that I think about it, looked more like one of those haunted houses you see in old horror movies. However, this story is not of that genre, my friend. So do not delude yourself into thinking that it will, as it is not. My mother worked a full time job at a local college and my brother and me would usually be…

The story I am about to share with you has only recently come to an end. It has haunted me for twelve years of my life and tainted every moment of my younger years. Maybe now I can become a normal person, but I will never forget what happened.

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?

The farm was left to him after his mother passed away five years ago. He was still in Afghanistan however, so he was unable to make it to the funeral. When he returned back home a year after his mother’s death, there was nobody to meet him at the airport; but Derby Matthews didn’t mind. He never did. Retired now, with fifteen years of military service as a field surgeon under his belt, Derby tucked himself away on the large, lonely farm for what he assumed would be the rest of his life.

In 2005 when I graduated high school, I did so without much concern for what kind of person I was upon leaving, or how that person might affect my future. In fact, I don't think anyone I was in a social circle with did that much thinking. My parents made the mistake of giving me $200 in graduation money that was added to another $150 from various proud relatives. I could have donated a portion of it or put it in a savings account. But I didn't. I got crocked with some of my other delinquent…

Death comes for us all. The intricate design of Death's web spares no one. It is the inevitable reality we all face someday, some sooner than others. But not all of us are unwary of our demise. Not all of us are fortunate enough to live in blissful ignorance, unaware of our own mortality. But once you are caught in the web, like a hapless fly watching as a spider descends upon it, you will see how finite life is. For as easy as life is granted, it can just as easily be taken away.

Today is Tuesday, May 20, 2014 and I am real. At least I think I am. Since 7th grade I have been different than anyone else on the planet. I have something with no name. Something that makes me question the very existence of everything around me. I call it "in somnium ambulat". In Latin it meant "The Dream Walk" and that doesn't even start to cover it. Occasionally, when I dream, I fall asleep. When I wake up I can't tell if it's real life or still a dream. I can live for months at a time in my…

Today is the first day of my new job as a teacher at the high school I once graduated from. Other than the fact at how damn early I had to get up, I was 100% ecstatic and ambitious towards what may happen on my first day back there.. 5:30 AM came all too quickly. I was in and out of the shower, dressed and. Ready, coffee in hand by 5:55 I hastily locked up my apartment and made my way to my car. I fumbled around a little in the darkness while trying to get into my car, but I eventually got it.

I was about twelve years old when my parents sent me to that shit hole. They were so determined to get me to camp. Not just that camp but really any camp. I took it as code for “We’ll-be-at-work-all-week-and-we-don’t-trust-you-alone”. My parents showed me the brochure, it actually looked kind of fun! The picture on the front of the brochure had slides, activities, and really anything that a twelve year old kid would want in a camp. It was pretty legit. The kids all seemed to be having fun in…

This Creepypasta is based off of the quietest room in the world. It is supposedly -9 decibels and it is so quite that you can hear your blood in your veins and your heart beat. It has only been sustained for 45 minutes at the most. It causes minor insanity and hallucinations. -----------------------

Based on personal hallucinations.

It was a cold winters afternoon, soft flurries of snow were gathering on the boys window sill, much of it piling in a clump on his timbered bedroom floor, unfortunately his window panes, which were designed to keep him from catching a flu, had been shattered.

When Felix Agnus put up the life-sized shrouded bronze statue of a grieving angel, seated on a pedestal, in the Agnus family plot in the Druid Ridge Cemetery, he had no idea what he had started. The statue was a rather eerie figure by day, frozen in a moment of grief and terrible pain. At night, the figure was almost unbelievably creepy; the shroud over its head obscuring the face until you were up close to it. There was a living air about the grieving angel, as if its arms could really reach…

I haven't been sleeping much anymore. My two room apartment has a window right next to my bed. I’ve started to notice something odd about the people going by. Have you ever seen how video game characters don’t seem to walk? They just glide forward while doing a walking animation, like a reverse moonwalk. That’s what they do, they don’t tip forward with each step, and they keep their torsos completely straight and legs moving beneath them while drifting past my window.

Chad’s stomach growled. He knew the only way he could satisfy this new hunger was with nachos, as he had done so many times in the past. Each nacho was a piece of the hunger puzzle in his stomach, and the pieces always lined up perfectly.

The sun was dancing on the horizon, shadows lengthening and the light beginning to fade. Inside the pure white room, only a table and two steel chairs furnishing it, stood a girl no older than sixteen in a shirt and pants the same hue as the room.

The following dialog was found written on a scrap of paper in the cell of a now missing John Doe.