#reality

I used to believe that the worst thing that could happen at a restaurant was getting food poisoning. I was wrong. My name is Emily Carter, and what happened to me three years ago is something I still cannot explain without feeling like I am going to be sick. I have never told the entire story to anyone. Not my friends, not the police, and certainly not my father. Maybe writing it down is the only way I can finally get it out of my head.

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…

Let me start by pointing out that I have been told, and have figured out on many occasions, that I have an over-active imagination. That being said, I have thought a lot about the night that this story will focus on and I can't talk myself into believing that it didn't happen. As the title says, this is a true story. I do write Creepy Pastas, but this story is true, it really happened, or so it did as far as I'm concerned. I don't share this with many people, so feel good, you're in a way,…

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.

I've been talking to this cute punk girl online for a few months, and eventually I asked her to move in with me. This was 2008, and websites like Myspace were in full swing. We met on a site called VampireFreaks.com, which was basically Myspace for emos, punks, goths, and metalheads. I stood at the Greyhound station, excited to meet my once-online, now real-life girlfriend, and really hoping she was who she presented herself to be. The moment she stepped off the bus, I melted.

I didn't open the door. On mine and violets life I didn't, but my head was pounding the same way as it did when I went through a door.

About five years ago I lived downtown in a major city in the US. I've always been a night person, so I would often find myself bored after my roommate, who was decidedly not a night person, went to sleep. To pass the time, I used to go for long walks and spend the time thinking.

I'm getting a headache, everything sounds painfully loud in an empty basement.

I like podcasts, I just don’t have time for them. I work from home and can’t work and listen at the same time. One of the two things always goes wrong. Either I stop working, or I stop listening. So when my friend Owen said he was starting a podcast, I acted supportive. After all, it was about spooky shit. One of my favorite subjects. In reality, though, I was thinking to myself that there was no way I’d ever listen to it. That was true until Owen brought me the recording of the call-in guest.

The homunculus was a thin, flat, disproportionate thing that was too smooth, too round, and seemingly forever dissatisfied with its own ludicrous appearance. The first time I ever laid eyes on it, I had just arrived at my tech job, fresh from a stay of extended medical leave, mind already ablaze with the problems of yesterday’s virtual meetings. A semicircle of young and middle-aged colleagues surrounded and watched in hushed excitement as the thing changed. What I initially recognised as an…

I remember when I first woke up here just a couple of weeks ago. It’s probably not like any place you’ve ever seen. Not that it matters anymore, now that I'm stuck here. You see, for the past few weeks, I've been stuck in some sort of hell. Because I have found myself trapped. Trapped in a never-ending expanse of cardboard. I don't know if I'm alone here or not; I'm mostly writing this so my mind has something to do. Hell, I don't know if I’ll even get out of here, wherever this place is.

The following story was originally posted across 8 different installments spanning the months from October to November of 2017. They describe the true events that occurred at a now infamous small town gas station. PART ONE

A true (?) story.

I just want to start off by saying if you want an answer at the end, prepare to be disappointed. There just isn't one. I was an intern at Nickelodeon Studios for a year in 2005 for my degree in animation. It wasn't paid of course, most internships aren't, but it did have some perks beyond education. To adults it might not seem like a big one, but most kids at the time would go crazy over it.

Sometime during the night of August 16, 1952, the small town of Ashley, Kansas ceased to exist. At 3:28am on August 17, 1952, a magnitude 7.9 earthquake was measured by the United States Geological Survey. The earthquake itself was felt throughout the state and most of the midwest. The epicenter was determined to be directly under Ashley, Kansas.

In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed.

In rural southern Illinois a toy company began selling “realistic” baby dolls to expectant mothers. But apparently after the mother had her child the toy baby would start crying. Eventually the “rocking motion” advertised to calm it down wouldn’t work, and you couldn’t get it to stop without shaking it.

Pentimento I spent two years working on a single sentence.

I’ve gotten into some trouble recently, and I need to tell people about it. I need to know if anyone has experienced something like this. I don’t want to be alone in this. I’m really, really scared. Please, bear with me while I explain what happened to me. For the purposes of this, I’m going to remain anonymous, so I don’t complicate my situation further. You’ll find out why in a little bit. I really appreciate you taking your time to hear me out and help me.

Day 1