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You are alone. A scared, fearful little creature in this dank and dark forest. I can smell you. I can feel your heart beating, every single one of them. I just love to dance to the rhythm as it quickens when you hear a sound. What as that? A squirrel? A fox? Perhaps it was. Or perhaps it was me.

When I was young, I was always told the sounds I heard at night where made up. "It's just a figment of your imagination" my Father would always tell me. But every night, as I layed tiredly on my stomach, covered from head to toe in blankets, I could have sworn I heard what almost sounded like someone tapping their fingernails across the floor of the attic above my bedroom. Whenever I heard it, (usually around the first night of every month) it would begin ever so quietly. It'd always start out…

Think about this for a second, when you delete a file, a video, an image, literally anything on the internet, where does it go? Is it technically still out there? Is it in the hands of someone else? Well, I sure as hell found out.

When I was very little, I met my very best friend. I was quite the fearless little child, so I wasn’t afraid of him. Though, I do think most little kids might’ve been. But, I was a boy, and by my logic that meant I wasn’t supposed to be scared of anything. Even if I was little, I was still a boy.

During my childhood my family was like a drop of water in a vast river, never remaining in one location for long. We settled in Rhode Island when I was eight, and there we remained until I went to college in Colorado Springs. Most of my memories are rooted in Rhode Island, but there are fragments in the attic of my brain which belong to the various homes we had lived in when I was much younger.

Oct 10 - Today is cloudy Starting today, I'm going to keep a diary! My family includes little Jack, my mom, and the "Red Devil" too! My mom and the Red Devil are always getting into fights! It’s a total blast—whenever the Red Devil comes home drunk, a fight with Mom breaks out. Little Jack is really timid and just cries when he sees it, but I actually find it fun! Oct 11 - Today is warm

The following are notes I wrote on my phone during my night shifts in December 2025, mostly on my breaks, sometimes in the toilets, once lying on the floor of a linen cupboard. I've fixed the spelling and nothing else. I'm posting them because the Trust's investigation has closed, and it says what it says, and this says what happened. — Clare

I gradually became aware that I was awake again, sadly. I enjoyed those fleeting moments of unconscious sleep where the minutes and hours slowly drift away, and then pick up speed until you are redlining it in 5th gear... then BLAM!!! Awake again. Who knows how much later. Fifteen minutes or ten hours, time used to be relative.

Vigilantly I take one last look around the house. Making sure again not to miss any little sound or the movement of someone or something, making sure that there really is only me. My mother should be at work and my sister at school, double checking really won't hurt me. If I want to do this ritual, I need to be all alone, or at least I don't want anyone to find out or intrude. Right... the ritual... I hope it works.

On the morning of the 13th June 1997, an unidentified federal agent was found dead at his workstation deep within a secret government facility at an undisclosed location. The cause of his death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound. The following extract consists of the final entry logs of said agent prior to his suicide. Despite the lack of context and supporting evidence, this document was received from a trusted source.

A Creepypasta They say that if someone has caused you unbearable suffering, all you need is a chestnut and three words. But before you try it, you should know the story of Charlie Whitmore. And you should understand that Charlie doesn't forgive. For nearly seventy years, Whitmore Chestnut Farm had been a beloved fixture in the small rural community of Ashbury.

When I was 17, my grandfather passed away. Save your condolences for my dad. I was never close to him. Hell, I wouldn't even say I knew him. I had only "met" him twice, once when I was a newborn, and another when I was five or six years old. Everything I knew about him was from what my dad told me. He always told me how my grandpa was not only a loving father and family man, but a pillar of their small community.

Everyone loves Disney and their beloved cartoon characters like Mickey mouse, Donald duck, Goofy, Minne Mouse and Daisy duck, Pluto. But what if I tell you that there's something deeper in Disney that we all forgotten a long time ago? You can grab one of their files and it'll be titled. "The Disney Files" Welcome to this Alternative Universe, where it shows you the files of 'The Dark Reflection of Disney'

A hallway that never ends. Picture this. Life is great. Ten years old. Ten years of your life have been on earth. Ten years. On my tenth birthday, I got the worst birthday gift. I fell asleep that night, the night of my tenth birthday. I had gotten great gifts, and I was exhausted. The moment I woke up, however, I was in a completely different place. Laying on the ground, I slowly gained consciousness. The room was gray with dim light, and by me was a crumpled sheet of paper. I opened it, and…

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.

My story takes place in a backwoods town in south-eastern rural Kentucky. It’s a small town that you’ve likely never heard of – its people sparsely peppering the mountainsides to-and-fro. It’s the type of town where it isn’t exactly uncommon to find neighbors bartering for goods with livestock and services, living off what the land provides, and generally making do with what they’ve got. It was here that my father was raised. It is here that my father raised his family.

November 1756 Quebec Canadian Wilderness

During the summer of 2003, events in the northeastern United States involving a strange, human-like creature sparked brief local media interest before an apparent blackout was enacted. Little or no information was left intact, as most online and written accounts of the creature were mysteriously destroyed.

Chapter One: 14 US Their journey began at the end of everything. The world had ended, but theirs had only just begun. They had lived their lives in complete solitude, confined and alone for as long as they could remember. That was about to change. In a dark basic living quarter, a mass lay on the bottom bunk of a bunkbed built into the wall. Multiple blankets lay on him to sheild him from the cold, as the temperature in the bunker had been stuck on 62 degres for some time.

Tap, tap, tap… Tap, tap. Silence... tap.