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It was a dark, foggy night, as it really should be whenever something eerie happens. I was walking from my dad’s house over to my mom’s. I’d had a fight with my dad about something, the topic of which I’ve since forgotten, and realized at 17 years old that I was old enough and capable enough to walk alone back to my mom’s house, instead of stewing in my room at dad’s. Besides, both of my sisters were asleep already, so I wasn’t worried about them not getting their homework done or needing help…

In shadows of October dawn Was when the sickness came Foul breath of death wanton Denizens plagued in blain . I saw from high window As death drew nigh in tow Courier sent afar Then close my door ajar . As the leaves grew redder And the days grew dire My flock grew fettered Flayed upon the pyre . Cast in glow of dying wick I, too, could feel the sick Solitude in this shadowy hour Locked away inside this tower . Rolling past autumn plains Haze of grey sinks low

I was five when the man in the wolfman mask scared the shit out of me. No, he didn’t eat me. No, he didn’t kill me. He just gave me one good Halloween scare.

The email from Becca arrived at 3:14 AM, blinking on the screen like a dying pulse. It contained a single, corrupted video file and a trembling plea: “My little sister Kaylee went missing after she found that tape. Please... find her. Don't let them put her to sleep.”

I first met in person with Mary E. in the summer of 2007. I had arranged with her husband of fifteen years, Terence, to see her for an interview. Mary had initially agreed, since I was not a newsman but rather an amateur writer gathering information for a few early college assignments and, if all went according to plan, some pieces of fiction. We scheduled the interview for a particular weekend when I was in Chicago on unrelated business, but at the last moment Mary changed her mind and locked…

Twice I saw the face in the window, pressed up against the surface, its icy breath fogging the cold glass. At first it appeared strange to me, the skin beneath its eyes drooping in ripples of flesh, exposing the red sensitive strata underneath.

“How do you eradicate death itself?” There was a strange life in this apartment complex, one that practically begged you to look the other way. From the outside, the place offered nothing. It was just a decrepit gray structure looking as if it would collapse under a single harsh gust of wind. It stood out solely because within a fifty-mile radius, no other human life existed. Questions went unasked. Certain answers were better left unknown, and if ignorance was bliss, so be it.

I think this might be the end. For us anyway. Man and all that we’ve accomplished. I’ve had plenty time to think about it since the last time I saw the sun. The last time I’d ever see it. It’s not the end of the world but it is for us.

The listing said SLEEPS 2 in capitals, the way you write a warning before you understand it. Mira found the cabin. Four hours north, at the end of a gravel road that gave up and became a suggestion for the last half mile. No neighbours in any direction. A woodstove, a hand pump over the sink, and two mugs on the shelf. Two chairs at the table. Two plates, two forks, two towels folded to the same width. Two of everything, arranged like an answer to a question nobody had asked.

I got a Wii on my 7th birthday on November 28th, 2006 (about 9 days after the Wii was released). I still remember the moment when my dad gave me the present and then I quickly ripped it open, "Wow, a Wii! Thanks, dad!" I exclaimed in happiness. After that, I begged my dad to help set it up. When he was done, he finally helped me set up the Wii in the living room. What surprised me about the Wii is the controller, because it reminded me so much of a TV remote. After my dad set it up he left me…

That thing has been there for almost a week. The figure in the window. It looks featureless, only skin on a human frame, and it’s pressing itself against the glass somehow. I don’t know how it got there, and I don’t know how to get rid of it.

How to summon Slender man: [WARNING] Do at your own risk, it is not suggested that you play. This game requires a few days of preparation so be warned. Supplies: - 2 Sheets of paper - Red pen - Red string/yarn - Scissors - Salt - 4 Candles - Lighter - Ziplock bag - Rock You are now about to begin the game. Make sure you don't have anything that has your name or a loved ones name on it in the bathroom. (i.e. bracelet, necklace)

Amitriptyline, 25 mg. Her dose. Her name on the label, spelled the way only she spelled it, with the small accent she'd added at the DMV and never let anyone drop. I hadn't refilled anything. I hadn't opened the app since the funeral. But the receipt said the order was placed five days ago, from my account, and the pickup was authorized with a short code I did not remember choosing.

"So you're actually like that, aren't you?"One of my classmates approaches me as I try to distance myself from her, desperately trying to hide from her everpiercing gaze. Please don't look at me like that. I silently beg. But they don't listen to the screams in my soul and even more gather around, closing in on me. They all start asking me questions, speaking right over one another. I press my hands against my ears to shield myself from the noise.

Cry Baby Lane (or JosephTheSnail’s Cry Baby Lane, as titled on Spiral Nightmares) is a thriller creepypasta that retells the 2011 creepypasta of the same name while correcting many of its flaws, most notably the defamation of the real-life director Peter Lauer by replacing his role with an unhinged character who gradually proves to be even more deranged than initially believed, alongside the disturbing, never-before-mentioned-until-now “actual” (not really) history of a goofy Nickelodeon horror…

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

LAB EXPLORATION DAY 1: Randy: We made it to the research facility after about two days. There were so  many close calls that I almost lost count. There were the obvious threats, the false copycats and Mimickers were at almost every damn turn we made, but we made it.

When I read the articles about him. I spent three weeks looking through my window. I was terrified by the thought of him being in the woods. I thought it was hunting me at first, trying to get me into a tragedy; it wanted me to suffer, but I was entirely wrong. I know, what a way to start, but I have been suffering from sudden explosive nosebleeds and migraines.

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

You may have heard about the Dandy Corporation's modern-day ghost towns. A company as large and as long-lasting as Dandy Co. is bound to make a few mistakes, and when they do, it's often cheaper to just ignore them than to throw good money after bad.