Creepy Pasta Duh-duh!

[georgexu94]

No updates? I thought this topic would be active since it's Halloween. Time to share some scary stories.

[Skellybones]

Seedeater

 

Back in the summer of '84 my kids came in saying, "Daddy there's a bird man outside." Of course, I came out of curiousity. I came out...and there I saw him. The Seedeater, I saw him right there in the tree.

 

He was in a full, blood dried skull and he was eating something like raw meat...And there I saw it - a child being eaten. I didn't know what to do, so I went in, grabbed my camera and took a snapshot of him. He said "If you want my attention you will bring me more children."

 

The next day, I brought him a very large, round, about 120 lb child. The seedeater took the child and began harvesting his organs. Of course, the only thing I can do was watch as he ripped out his organs.

 

 

As you can see, it needs children to keep its self alive, and after a week the flesh was getting disgusting.

 

5/08/99

 

2 children taken. 2 Devoured. 2 more Requested.

 

5/17/99

 

6 children taken. 6 devoured. 6 more requested.

 

But on May 22 he said that kids weren't doing the trick, no - he wanted something bigger.

 

But only I know how to kill this beast of hell. But I couldn't do it because he had me under a tight, deadly grip so I firmly told him as I was going to die,

 

"One day you will suffer for what you've done."

 

 

Well everyone. Good Bye I hope that you know how to kill this Brutal Beast of Hell.

Edited October 31, 2013 by Shadowwolf6

[PumpkinPyromaniac]

^ WHAT thats it that was a good one! You sure that the end >_<^

Thanks, I wrote that one! ^^

[ChocolateIzzy]

O.o you wrote that?? That was awesome :3

[Black Blaze]

My favorite Creepypasta would be the Holders Series. There's so many of them, each more unique than the last. Here's the first one for a sample:

 

The Holder of the End

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of the End”. Should a look of child-like fear come over the workers face, you will then be taken to a cell in the building. It will be in a deep hidden section of the building. All you will hear is the sound of someone talking to themselves echo the halls. It is in a language that you will not understand, but your very soul will feel unspeakable fear.

 

Should the talking stop at any time, STOP and QUICKLY say aloud “I’m just passing through, I wish to talk.” If you still hear silence, flee. Leave, do not stop for anything, do not go home, don’t stay at an inn, just keep moving, sleep where your body drops. You will know in the morning if you’ve escaped succesfully.

 

If the voice in the hall comes back after you utter those words continue on. Upon reaching the cell all you will see is a windowless room with a person in the corner, speaking an unknown language, and cradling something. The person will only respond to one question. “What happens when they all come together?”

 

The person will then stare into your eyes and answer your question in horrifying detail. Many go mad in that very cell, some disappear soon after the meeting, a few end their lives. But most do the worst thing, and look upon the object in the person’s hands. You will want to as well. Be warned that if you do, your death will be one of cruelty and unrelenting horror.

 

Your death will be in that room, by that person’s hands.

 

That object is 1 of 538. They must never come together.

[Melomancer]

The Russian sleep experiment

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 water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.

 

The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.

 

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.

 

After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself...

 

After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it... or rather didn't react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.

 

So did the whispering to the microphones.

 

After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.

 

They announced: "We are opening the chamber to test the microphones; step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom."

 

To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: "We no longer want to be freed."

 

Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.

 

The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in 'life.'

 

The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject's thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four 'surviving' test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.

 

The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.

 

Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep...

 

To everyone's surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject's teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.

 

In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word "MORE" over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.

 

The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake...

 

The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.

 

The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.

 

When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. "Keep cutting."

 

The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.

 

Only one response was given: "I must remain awake."

 

All three subject's restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military 'benefactors' for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.

 

In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone's surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.

 

The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.

 

He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. "I won't be locked in here with these things! Not with you!" he screamed at the man strapped to the table. "WHAT ARE YOU?" he demanded. "I must know!"

 

The subject smiled.

 

"Have you forgotten so easily?" The subject asked. "We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread."

 

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject's heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, "So... nearly... free..."

 

Original author unknown

[Psyduсk]

The Russian Sleep Experiment is awesome, but my favorite Creepypasta will always be "The Strangest Security Tape I've Ever Seen"

[Melomancer]

Could you copy and paste it here? I want to read it, but I don't want to look at scary images before bed.

[Symphonic-Nemesis]

It doesn't have any images on the security tape piece so you'll be fine!

[Melomancer]

Thanks!

 

I totally relate to the creepypasta though. If I was the Harley guy, I would buy beef jerky every hour too if I could. Love how it tastes.

 

Woah. That creepypasta had a really nice ending though. The loops make it seem so mysterious.

[Moonlight_Eevee]

I created my own CreepyPasta, his name is Dreamshade, but I'm having a little difficulty writing something about him. He's basically a plant that is inhabiting a human.

[Psyduсk]

Another Creepypasta I've really gotten into is

, narrated and visualized by MrCreepyPasta.

[Melomancer]

User 666 is scary too. I like the security tape one too. It's creepy in a different way. It wasnt like a crappy horror movie, the characters didn't do dumb stuff that lead to them dying. In fact, the narrator chose the smart options, made good decisions, even figured out the time loop and how it worked, and yet, it was all useless in the end, and he got trapped.

[RaisingDragons]

Lol logged on to the forums to see if there's any hints about the DC cave birthday release, and wound up overdosing on creepypasta.

 

Personally, I like The Dionaea House. Dionaea House

 

And, of course, SCP. Warning - SCP is almost as much of a time-sink as TV Tropes. You have been warned

[greenglassesgal]

Wow. It's been a while since I last posted here.

@Nestra: Hahah I posted Tourist Trap earlier on page 2, too.

Also, I do believe that Russian Sleep Experiment was posted on page 4, as well.

 

Kagome Kagome (sorry for length)

 

The Nazi reign was famous for its back-door scientists and occult researchers. Special expeditionary divisions of the Reich were often sent out in search of artifacts or locations of occult or religious significance. Meanwhile in Germany, bunkers were assembled and mansions and castles were fitted with labyrinths and dungeons which were filled with strange experiments and research notes.

Whenever the Allies found these places, they were often gutted, burned, or otherwise destroyed and abandoned. Whenever a lab was found intact, the research was often incoherent or missing, or later destroyed by the Allies to prevent the Nazis from recovering any hidden data. A lot of the Nazi experiments were kept under the radar. Until recently. Veterans who served as guards to the labs and ritual zones have explained what they have seen, or folders and books have been uncovered in boxes and crates belonging to the scientists. A fair few of these contain a common research goal.

 

Exactly the true power is often up to debate but it appears that this is often described in Nazi research as "Immortality", unable to die, invincibility or other factors surrounding losing the capacity to die in some way or another.

The larger part of this research was actually legitimately based; certain doses of chemical compounds to aid blood flow in aging people. First concepts that are now used in today's transplant surgery, grafting, ointments that renewed skin, antibodies to various diseases, and fitness/dieting research.

However, one set of crates discovered in Hamburg in 1999 went way off of this research style. This stuff cross-bred the Occult experiments and immortality research.

 

The introductory folders and proofs of concept of the research begin with the principle that the brain controls the body completely and wholly, and, as the body slowly degrades around it, it continues to function. further statements say that the reason the body is left to degrade is because the human brain is "Set on a biological timer" such is why butterflies can only live a day, yet other insects can often last longer: the brain tells us to die.

It is proposed that, as the brain grows, it begins to make connections, resulting in the human becoming more mature and having an advancing brain. At the age of 35-50, however, these connections slowly break down, resulting in forgetfulness, dementia and other mental diseases reserved for the elderly.

 

The Nazi scientists proposed that the brain has a "Universal Kill switch" that activates as soon as the brain has fully developed. In all normal humans, this kill switch will initiate a shutdown sequence in bodily functions, which occurs over several decades. As soon as the body is fully shut down, the brain will be forced to die through lack of oxygenated blood.

It is said that Werners Syndrome (a disease where a person ages rapidly) is a result of the kill switch function activating far too early.

The Nazi's proposed that they could remove the kill switch, and give the human mind immortality. And from that, complete immortality. Needless to say, brain surgery was incredibly difficult during those times, but it was possible. In the stacks of folders there were many different diagrams and past research on the brain, psychology, the human mind and the like.

 

The experiments were initially proposed to Nazi executives in 1940 and permission was granted to perform the experiments in 1942, under one condition;

The experiments must be conducted outside of Germany. The German Populace must not see this experiment in any way, shape, or form.

It was no surprise to the scientists that the Executives were paranoid about public relations, but the idea of performing the research outside of the fatherland was foreign in itself. Most experiments were performed in bunkers or basements. Regardless, the scientists complied, and were able to organize a setup with their ally, Japan. In late 1942, the research had begun.

Here's where it gets strange.

The research team had taken over a Japanese orphanage. The orphanage was in the hills, supposedly somewhere in Shimane, an area nearby Hiroshima.

 

The scientists deduced that if they tried to take the usual test subjects; old or diseased people with "nothing left to live for" (similar in a fashion to Gateway of the Mind) they would be playing with the variable of disease, or, more importantly, they would be experimenting on a brain that has already had an activated kill switch, rendering it useless in the context of finding the solution.

As a result, the Nazi scientists demanded that children, namely the orphans in the orphanage (which they deemed to, again, "have nothing else to live for"), would become test subjects: their young brains eliminated any cause for concern of an already activated kill switch.

To begin the experiments, the children went through numerous immunizations and intense psychological testing, to ensure that they would prevent any defects, and keep a general benchmark for their subjects.

Next, they began with the older staff of the orphanage. Put under anesthetic, the surgeons opened up their skulls to find a good cross section of an adult brain, and begin to find key differences between it and a child's brain.

After gaining a model of both a child brain and an adult brain, the scientists deduced that the 'universal kill switch' wasn't located in the brain, but in the cerebellum, located at the rear. The cerebellum commands all sub-conscious activity in the brain, which is understandable, since it isn't a conscious action to set off the kill switch.

Systematically, they took the tallest child in the orphanage, and began to open her up. They were about to begin their first "kill switch-ectomy" they had managed to open up the cerebellum and remove the part presumed to be the kill switch, however, upon closing the subject up, they found that she had expired. They assumed that the incisions on the brain had been too brash, and required far more precision. The body was dumped in the forest behind the orphanage.

 

After imports of different tools, and different techniques developed, the scientists were finally able to remove the kill switch and successfully revive the patients. In May 1943 they had taken one of the youngest girls in the orphanage and removed the kill switch, the only function she lost was the ability to sweat. After their assumed success, the scientists had celebrated, after which everyone went to sleep. The next morning, the girl did not wake up, and was revealed to be comatose. After a while, she was revived successfully, and the "kill switch-ectomies" continued.

 

The initial success gave the doctors a new state of mind, one of refreshment, they were able to continue their experiments with the ease of mind that the theory was proven, well. So they assumed.

Before the doctors continued their removal research they commissioned several doctors in from Moscow, who were trained in the practice of bodily revival (technically zombification, however it relies on the principals of using electric shocks and artificial hearts to power the body back up). They stated the reason for this was that the original subject always became comatose or clinically dead, whenever she went to sleep, and then revived herself in the morning. She had no signs of this behavior before the experiment, and despite the fact that she revived, the doctors did not want to risk a success turning into a failure. The Russian scientists were put to the task of bringing her back to life whenever she expired. After several days of this, the Nazis concluded that it was safe to continue.

 

Project Venom was a Russian experiment to create super soldiers from the theory of Dr. Frankenstein. (It may also form a basis for the Marvel superhero as well) As a repayment for the use of the Russian scientists, Russia had asked that they combine the research of Project Venom with the Nazi's ongoing experiments. Naturally, the Nazis agreed.

However, the limited number of orphans was debilitating, as the Nazi's required so many of them, and could only offer a single girl. The Russians were contempt, and began their proof of concept.

They had artificially created an arm, over in Moscow, which was on its way to the orphanage to be grafted on, to prove that amputation and replacement could work. In the meantime, the Russians had to prepare for this.

The girl's right arm was amputated.

Mysteriously, shortly after, the Russian scientists packed up their equipment and left. The replacement arm never came, and the girl was left with a bandage strapped over her kimono perpetually. The Russians were said to have left with a fearful haste, as if suddenly the air had turned too cold for their tastes.

 

One child out of the whole orphanage, did not approve of the scientists presence. In her acts of rebellion she stole paperwork and ripped it to shreds, broke glassware and wrecked surgery theaters. Despite her young age (8 years old) and size, she had a surprising capacity for destruction. It was noted in a journal that she was heterochromic as well (brown and blue eyes from left to right). The senior scientists despised her, but could not restrain her without arousing suspicion. Instead, they ordered the Nazi soldiers to take care of her.

She was brutally beheaded with a blunt bayonet, she was not buried, just left in the woods behind the orphanage. The soldiers told the caretakers that she had found a new family.

 

The Nazi scientists attempted to play around with their successful experiment by trying different aspects to it, sadly, none of them worked. Here is a list of them:

 

Entry through the forehead. Performed on a 10 year old boy, skull was deformed and the boy had been virtually lobotomized by the end of it. However, he wasn't vegetative as a result, although he was mentally retarded due to the experiment.

 

Entry through the lower jaw. Performed on a 6 year old girl, the tongue and most of the flesh on the lower jaw was removed and could not be replaced. The subject's sinuses were also scrambled.

 

Entry through the side of the head, subject was reluctantly half deaf. It should also be noted that there was no anesthetic during this surgery and the screams were truly mortifying, as most journals read.

 

Despite the failure of these, the kill switches were still removed, and the subjects acted in much the same way as the first girl, expiring upon sleep.

However, they were reduced to a mere ten people, due to all the previous failures. This is including the caretakers, and they had performed surgery on all the children.

 

The doctors began to formulate ideas that in a child, a kill switch isn't already activated, but in an adult a kill switch could be reversed using a chemical compound to eliminate the hormone produced and the kill switch then removed.

This was performed on all the caretakers and was, surprisingly, successful as they all survived.

 

During the experiments, scientists were told to watch over the successful children, and monitor their behavior. This part gets freaky.

"They appear normal at first, just like any of the other children, playing cheering, learning normally, but when separated from the others, they seem... off. They stroll carelessly around, with a blank smile on their face, their eyes looking straight at you. If approached from behind, their heads snap around with ungodly speed and for a moment, you can almost see an expression so vile on their face that it makes you want to cower. But then you realize they are just forming their dreamy smile again.

Another thing is that they follow us, but only when we are on our own. After finishing on my typewriter and heading to my room, I am often given a fright by one of the children standing several meters down the dark hallway, staring at me. When I go off to my room, she follows me, and I shut my door, jam a chair behind it, and then I sleep safely. It feels like they're ghosts at night time. And the funny thing is, I keep seeing one child with reddish hair. I keep asking who the child is the next morning, but the caretakers say they haven't had a child with reddish hair for a while**

They also seem to be playing a game a lot more than when we started. I haven't got much knowledge of Japanese, but it seems the game is named Circle You, Circle You*, as described by one of the translators. A group of children surround one child, who sits in the center, alone, they link arms and begin to move in a circular manner around the child, making scary faces at them and singing an eerie chant, you lose if you flinch.

Upon talking to them, I've noticed they seem more dreamy, forgetful and somewhat blank, as if the experiments wiped their memories as well. But it's not an innocent type of dreamy, rather something more sinister. They stare at you with wide eyes, and ask you questions never thought they would know. One asked, "When your grandmother died, did she really leave you a gold plated watch?" It may seem crazy, but my honest answer was... "Yes."

 

*Kagome Kagome means Circle, Circle. The game translates to circle you, circle you.

**The child who rebelled against the scientists had reddish hair.

 

In early 1945, Hiroshima is bombed, Germany forfeits, and the experiments are ground to a halt. The Germans begin packing up their equipment, most of them have already returned home due to "their mental welfare", stating that they showed signs of insanity. Only 4 scientists remained.

After sending the last set of equipment off, the scientists deemed it only justified that they inform the caretakers that they were leaving and they did so.

And to the horror of one of the scientists, and the surprise of the rest, the head caretaker said, in fluent German, "Will you play one last game with us?"

The three scientists agreed, and a circle of children and caretakers formed around them. "Now, if you flinch, you lose..."

The one horrified scientist ran to the last truck and jumped on it without looking back.

 

The story now...

If you go to Hiroshima, go around the woods and you may find some dirt trails there. If you travel down them, you will see beautiful forests, but if you travel down one that has had signs of trucks going through, you will feel cold, and you will see that a lot of trees are cut down. But don't wander from the path, or you'll likely get lost in those vast woods.

If you pay attention, you will notice that the tree stumps look like kneeling people, missing heads.

If you continue, the air will get cold, naturally because you're climbing uphill, right? Of course, eventually you will reach a clearing, with an old stone building in the center, vines covering the place.

Go inside, if you want to play.

As soon as you open the door, a foul smell will come out, similar to that of a rotting corpse. If you look down the hall, it will be dark regardless of the time of day, since there are no lights.

Continue down the hall, take the first left, and then go down that hall until you see one door that appears to be made out of a red-colored wood (the rest are brown). Open the door, you will find ten happy children and caretakers, all wearing kimonos, playing in a normal playroom. One is missing her arm, another is missing his forehead, and a third lacks a jaw, but all are bandaged with clinical precision. The place should be very clean and tidy, dependent on your standard of such things, and well lit.

At once, your presence will draw the attention of everyone in the room, including the ones that look far too preoccupied or distracted. They will turn to look at you, carefree smiles from each of their pleasant faces.

The head caretaker, in all her beauty will ask "Will you come play with us?"

By this time, if you haven't soiled your pants, you really should, to save you the trouble later.

If you say "no", the door will slam shut on you, and if you try to go down the hallways out the exit, you will only find another dark hallway. Open any of the brown doors and you should find operating tables or bunk beds. If you continue down the third hallway you will realize that a girl is standing several meters behind you, her face shrouded by shadow. Approach it, and expect your doom. Continue down the hallway, and try not to let her catch up with you.

If you say "yes", however, you will be welcomed into the room. The door will close behind you, and everyone will form a circle around you.

"Now sit down and don't flinch!" a cheerful voice will say.

Just follow the instructions, and you will survive.

All light will disappear from the room, yet you can see the circle of children, each with a vicious expressions on their face, ones so vile you will probably flinch straight up. If you can stomach that, though, they will begin to move around and around you, slowly. You may feel one of them lash towards you. If you look however, there will be nothing there, besides the children circling normally.

If that wasn't enough, they will begin chanting "Kagome, kagome..."

I really can't explain any further. No one ever lives to tell the tale of what happens then.

If you flinch before they chant, they simply continue as normal.

If you choose to say maybe to the head caretaker, or anything other than yes or no, it is told that the children's expressions will turn mortifying (zalgonic, almost), and they will scream in inhuman voices "Decide! DECIDE!" If you do anything besides say yes or no from here, it is told that the children and caretakers will slam the door on you. If you turn around, the story varies. Supposedly, your worst fear will be waiting at the other end of the hallway, separating you from your exit. Most notably, this character is Aka Manto or the Rake.

The least you could do is greet the Creature before he tears you unto oblivion. If he has the capacity, he may well respond, and you will die as a polite person. Don't greet him, and you will end up as another one of the beheaded bodies along the trail.

If you respond "I don't understand", and you must be genuine, the head caretaker will say "Go to your school, and watch your children play. You should understand then." Nothing will have changed, and close the door on your way out, it's common courtesy.

 

Disclaimer

Most creepy pastas are fabricated. Some derived from psychological stigma, and others are revamped ghost stories. But there is a small percentage of Creepypastas, which aren't like this.

These are the "True" Creepypastas.

And that's not to say that they are a higher class of original pastas, which spawned forth others, it just means, they're real.

Germany did send a research team to Japan, to experiment immortality via the brain.

And they did experiment on children.

In an orphanage.

Edited June 1, 2014 by greenglassesgal

[LeafyWings]

Here's one I found

Most of these are quite scary!

Ok here it is:

 

Eversion:

 

I wake up to darkness. I might as well not have woken up, considering that closing your eyes has the same effect... I move the palm of my hands in vast circles and see only the outer edges; this makes me breathe out of my nose at the sight.

 

The drone of the alarm continues as I blink and my eyesight begins to adjust to the dim glow in the room. I slam my hand out on the table next to me and silence the alarm.

 

I try to fall back into the void of sleep, for those evanescent dreams had more of that substance—I don’t know what it is called—that I can see and enjoy... dancing to and fro in joyful delight unheard of on this world.

 

Yet I can’t sleep; I have to get up. The whisper tells me to get up.

 

So I raise my body in a slow motion and crack my back (I have to keep going...). I look around my room with its corroded walls, makeshift stands that you might call tables, and a TV that has a crack in the middle. I scratch my head and place my bare feet on the festering floor.

 

The day begins. The whispers begin their sounds. Like air, there are constantly there; like air, they are always near me.

 

I start with the daily grind. I use the murky shower water that is centuries old to wash myself of yesterday’s grime with new grime. I then go into the kitchen and eat the stale cereal, and place on myself my moth ridden clothes.

 

As I put on my clothes, I hear the whispers telling me to leave; this is a reminder that I am alone in the house, and I take greater time to leave. I then splash some water on my face and blink three times. I inhale and exhale, and the daily grind is over.

 

I put on my shoes and let in the cold air outside. I do not have to squint like I have to do in my dreams, for the clouds always made sure that the atmosphere was nothing but broken hues of the gray scale.

 

“I’m going!” I cried out to the empty house.

 

I hear a slight whisper that approves my going (very well, it says, carry on), and I move my feet over the threshold. A few steps forward, I turn around to get a quick reality check on my surroundings. I see my apartment all ravaged and bear, and the paint peeling off in a myriad of angels. The shingles of the roof are torn off, and I can see weeds going through the cracks of the apartment's foundation. The decimated glass of the window is the newest thing on the building, and even they were beginning to fade from their old splendor.

 

Yup, business as usual!

 

I crack my neck again and move through the broken parkways and on the sidewalk. I would take the streets since they would be a more direct path towards the school, but I can still hear the whistle of car tires and I am fearful for some reason that they will come and hit me. So I keep myself on the sidewalk and continue until I reach the crosswalk that leads to the Dead Field.

 

Ah... the Dead Field: the place that I must always summarise for myself.

 

The Dead Field is a vast expanse of pale grass that connects the school to my apartment, and I use it to cut time on having to looking at anything near me. It is been there since the day I was born, if I recall. Trees—I’ve been told—once dotted it and created a tranquil aura around it that made it pleasant to walk through. But now it was just a husk of its old splendor; dead grass is all that dots the patch of the decaying. Dead grass always swaying in defeat, instead of tree leaves swaying in splendor. Dead moving perpetually, full death, forever.

 

The best part is that this field is the one with the most life for miles on end. It is the most fertile, and the most luxurious; though it was still not pleasant to the eyes. If it weren’t for these features, I would be taking a much longer path towards the school; for even after all these of years of living in this place, it is still discontenting to see the city in its now ravaged state.

 

I hear a whisper, and I move on from these reminicsent thoughts.

 

As I reach the crosswalk, I wait for a moment for the whistle of the tires to cease. I pretend that when the whistling stops, the cars and the people inside them also stop and let me through. It makes feel less forlorn in this desolation and creates a sense of filling in the empty space of the roads. When the whistles finally held their cries, I walked out through the faded crosswalk and quickly took a right towards the field.

 

I looked around to see that the clouds above were not moving—as always—and that the dead grass was swaying back and forth with the evanescent wind. Everything above and below was placed in the same spot of motion; it was as if everything was stuck on repeat.

 

Again, business as usual.

 

I placed my hands in the pockets of my faded jeans and calmly walked through the field. Usually, it takes me around five minutes to get to the end of the field and another five to reach the school—seconds slugging by as I draw closer each step.

 

All of this, like I said, has been that way for as long as I can remember the clouds being overhead.

 

You can call it a tragedy; it wouldn’t be a hyperbole in the least. One teen with no one but himself—one teen in a society long forgotten and left there barren and naked—and one teen that doesn't even have the privilege to have angst over anything that is living. That there—in the deplorable world—is nothing but I. A lovely, simple, understanding of “tragedy” in most wild aspect.

 

just... "I".

 

It’s almost romantically poetic—and it makes me think.

 

All of it makes me think, really, and I stop in my tracks. I hear a whisper tell me to go on, but I ignore it. For the first time in quite sometime, I think of the burden that I have been going through. Contrary to the above romance, this "Tragedy World" anything but it. When I feel this burden, I think—and when I think, I become aware.

 

And when I become aware, I see the world and become insane.

 

“This is bad,” I whisper. “If I see, I will be taken away! I must never think of my surroundings and how bad I have it! Stan, why are you thinking?! STOP! STOP! STOP!”

 

Yet even with those words, my mind continues to whirl. There, in that horrible moment, the world opened up through eyes that were not glaze—so sudden was that revelation of sight that I almost lost my balance; my mind now so clear that it was almost hazy.

 

I was completely surprise at my sudden lack of apathy to my surrounding. There, in horror, I suddenly realized how overcast the clouds were—as if they were something from a dream that was turning into a reality.

 

There, with glaze eyes wide open, I could hear the wind shriek like a woman running for her life—as if a man were chasing her down a hall. There, with trembling hands, I could see the grass fall flat as the shrieks, and a far off beating of thunder, grew louder. There, right there, I let go and let the elements take me in their torrential rainfall.

 

How many times I wish to let go and fall—to let my body go on the ground and disappear along with my soul. I would let the soft rain come in this world (as a man from a story once said), and lightly place their finger tips on me. I know, I make it sound like a nice little dream, but that’s where I want it all to be: a dream. In my dreams, I do not have to be in an eternal death sentence.

 

I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be the wayfaring stranger. All I want to be is a kid who doesn’t need to think. A kid who doesn’t think in grand exuberant words to calm himself, but in colloquial bits and phrases. I don’t want to be, but I am...

 

Through this torment, I feel a wave of warmth blast me and push me away from those sounds and sites of the world. I grasped my heart and wavered in a place where time did not exist and yet motion did. I became dazed. Mind spinning... endlessly spinning... eternally spinning. Eventually, my legs unfroze and I fell over.

 

As I laid dying, I heard a faint cry from someone; it was almost familiar in its tones... Like it was someone I knew from a long time. In fact, I could've sworn there was a name to that voice... Josef? No... I'm almost.

 

I stopped listening to it anymore. I ignored the voices and whispers, and I let myself fall into an eternal sleep where I would never wake up.

 

---

 

No... no... he is going into another seizure, but this one he is not shaking it off!

 

"Stand up!" I cry. "Wake up! Stand up! Do something for Christ sakes!"

 

I'm right next to him, yet he does not hear me. He is scrambling and crying and moaning in a fit unparalleled to any of his others. Just a few seconds ago I was walking him through the crosswalk, and a few minutes ago I was getting him out of bed.

 

How can such simple things die out so quickly?!

 

Now all that is happening to him is a grand mal that is taking away his life. I try to call for help, but in this field there is no signal. Stan's ramblings were right; this was a Dead Field.

 

I turn my neck towards him to see a final spasm before he fell silent. I slam myself down on the ground and try to hear his pulse. There is a slight beat, but the beats were so evanescent that I almost mistook it for mine. I place my ear close to his mouth and feel a tickle of light speaking.

 

"Free..." he whispered. "Free at last..."

 

And with that, his breathing stopped. I looked down at him to see that his eyes were close, and there was a type of serenity to his face. I shake my head and run out towards the periphery of the field, where I finally got a signal. It didn't take them long for them to find us and take Stan's body.

 

As they took him, I stood there, shaking, thinking of his last words. Could it be that, perhaps, that he saw only a morbid form of this world; a form that entrapped his entire being in an eternal hell of loneliness and despair? I cringe in thinking of this idea.

 

Yet if this was true, he had finally left that awful nightmare; he had left that inside out world and had gone on to a better one. Or, at least, that is what I tell myself as I shiver in that cold...

 

Still, there is one thing that continues to claw at my mind with cold, dead talons. Was that Eversion that Stan witness throughout his life something not too far from the true stance in this world? Was what I was seeing but a figment of something more cruel and awful? Did Stan's world actually exist more than mine?

 

I pray to God that that is not true, and I place Stan's Earth into the back of my mind to rot to manure and dust....

[greenglassesgal]

Just for a little different something, here are some spooky ≤2-sentence horror stories (WARNING FOR SWEARING IN COMMENTS).

 

I woke up to hear knocking on glass. At first, I thought it was the window until I heard it come from the mirror again.

---

The last thing I saw was my alarm clock flashing 12:07 before she pushed her long rotting nails through my chest, her other hand muffling my screams. I sat bolt upright, relieved it was only a dream, but as I saw my alarm clock read 12:06, I heard my closet door creak open.

---

Growing up with cats and dogs, I got used to the sounds of scratching at my door while I slept. Now that I live alone, it is much more unsettling.

---

In all of the time that I've lived alone in this house, I swear to God I've closed more doors than I've opened.

---

A girl heard her mom yell her name from downstairs, so she got up and started to head down. As she got to the stairs, her mom pulled her into her room and said "I heard that, too."

---

She asked why I was breathing so heavily. I wasn't.

---

My wife woke me up last night to tell me there was an intruder in our house. She was murdered by an intruder 2 years ago.

---

I awoke to the sound of the baby monitor crackling with a voice comforting my firstborn child. As I adjusted to a new position, my arm brushed against my wife, sleeping next to me.

---

I always thought my cat had a staring problem- she always seemed fixated on my face. Until one day, when I realized that she was always looking just right behind me.

---

There's nothing like the laughter of a baby. Unless it's 1 AM and you're home alone.

[Flamma]

You do know that the dark heart story was made by Fun2havaround, the creator of the pastatown rp.

I didn't know that. I don't remember where I found it.

 

EDIT:

 

The Sandman

 

"Go to bed and wait for the Sandman."

 

Even as it came out of James' mouth it seemed to him a strange thing to say, and he was not sure why he had, but for some reason it worked: Daniel went to bed.

 

The next morning, though, he asked: "What does the Sandman look like?"

 

James was making breakfast. Daniel sat at the table, short legs swinging under his chair. "Nothing, really," James said. "It's just an expression."

 

"What does it mean?"

 

"Just something people say." He put a plate of eggs in front of Daniel and kissed him on the top of his head. He thought that would be the end of it.

 

Until he saw the Sandman for himself.

 

He was getting ready for bed and stopped by Daniel's room to check on him while he slept, as he often did. It was such a routine precaution that when he saw a pale, naked man sitting on the edge of Daniel's bed, rocking back and forth, it took a moment for him to process what he was seeing.

 

He reacted the way any father would, of course: He ran into the room screaming, and for a moment he thought about attacking the intruder, but then the man on the bed turned, and that's when James saw that it wasn't really a man: It was a pale, slithery thing, hairless and warped, its joints turned the wrong way and its body out of shape with itself. When it moved it was like an insane marionette dancing on a stage.

 

James froze. The skittering thing watched him. Only when he remembered that Daniel was still there in bed, staring at the broken-shaped thing sitting a foot away, did he regain the courage to move. He grabbed Daniel and ran. In the hall he turned to see if the thing would follow them, but it didn't. For a moment it watched and then, moving like a stop-motion nightmare, it crawled to the window and jumped out, leaving only the billowing curtains to mark its passing.

 

James had trouble talking to the police. He reported a break-in, but when asked to describe the intruder he didn't know what to say. How could he make the ordinary man in the blue uniform sitting at his kitchen table while two of his colleagues searched the house understand a thing like he'd seen? He couldn't even understand it himself.

 

To make it worse, Daniel's memory did not correspond to James': He described an ordinary looking burglar. "A man in a mask," he said. James thought about it: Had it been a mask? No, it would had to have been a full costume, and an elaborate one, something like they would use for a movie. And that would not explain the way it moved...

 

But in the end he simply echoed his son's testimony: "A man in a mask," he said. "A burglar." The lie unsettled him almost as much as what had happened.

 

The doctors said Daniel wasn't hurt and showed no signs of molestation. James was relieved. They stayed at a motel for a couple nights until they felt ready to come home, and then James had a new security system installed, along with bars on the windows. He didn't like the sight of them in Daniel's room, but it seemed like the only thing to do.

 

James was frightened that first night back in the house, but Daniel, strangely, was not. When asked if he felt okay sleeping alone, he just said yes. In the end it was James who found himself wishing he were not sleeping alone. He was up all night listening for the sound of anything moving in the house. Although he had convinced himself that his memory was faulty and that it had been a normal (albeit probably deeply disturbed) man in his son's room, when he closed his eyes even for a moment he pictured bloodless skin and a twisted, inhuman face. He found himself wondering, why my house? Why my family? He knew, of course, that there didn't have to be a reason. But still, he wondered.

 

Two weeks later Daniel stopped talking. James didn't notice at first; kids went through quiet phases sometimes. But eventually he tried to get Daniel to talk, and he wouldn't. Eventually, it became clear that he couldn't.

 

Back to the doctor they went. Nothing wrong with him that we can see, was the diagnosis. Was it the trauma, James asked? Could be, they said. Sometimes these things come on late. Children can be a mystery even to those who know them best. They recommended a child psychologist, whom James couldn't afford. He could not, for that matter, even afford the bill they were giving him now.

 

Nothing seemed to help. Daniel would write out answers to questions sometimes, but never more than a yes or no. When James would ask him what was wrong, or if he'd seen or heard anything that frightened him, Daniel would only stare. He seemed furtive and bemused. James found himself missing the sound of his son's voice. Sometimes he wanted to hear it so bad that he ached. But it seemed that Daniel would not talk again until he was ready.

 

James had other things to worry about, too. He was convinced, beyond reason, that the intruder was not really gone. Though the alarm never went off and the locks and bars remained undisturbed, he was sure that he heard movement in the night. Not normal movement: It was a sound like a huge snake slithering through the house. When he heard it, he imagined horrible things. Nothing was ever there when he went to investigate, though he often thought he glimpsed something just out the corner of his eye, a pale foot or a misshapen shadow that would slink away as soon as he turned.

 

He rarely slept, and when he did he had haunted dreams.

 

Soon he realized he had not left the house in weeks except to go to the bank and buy groceries. He felt hemmed in. With Daniel acting mute he hadn't had an actual conversation with anyone in weeks, so he called his mother. The connection was bad and her voice sounded faint, on the verge of being not there at all. "I guess I'm okay, Ma," he said, pausing to wipe the sweat from his palms and then make sure he could hear Daniel playing in the next room. "But things have been a little rough. We had a break-in."

 

"Oh how awful!" Mom said. "Did they take anything?"

 

"Nah. Just ran off. It was weird though. I haven't really felt comfortable since then."

 

"Are you still working at that hospital?"

 

"No Ma, I left last year, you know that."

 

"Oh. Well, have you been getting out? What about that nice woman you were seeing last year, the one who played the piano?"

 

James scowled. She was always asking that kind of thing. Didn't she know how hard it was being a single father? That he didn't have the time? He was about to say so when something made him pause.

 

"Ma, is there anyone else on the line?"

 

"I don't think so?"

 

James was sure he heard it, though: the short, gasping sound of someone trying to hold their breath and failing. A cold feeling crept across the back of his neck. "You're sure nobody is listening on your other phone?"

 

"Dear, there is no other phone, I'm on the cell, that's why the service is so bad."

 

"Then what is—" James stopped. If the sound wasn't coming from her end, then...

 

He dropped the phone and raced to the hall. The extension hung on its hook, undisturbed. Heart pounding, he hurdled into the garage; the spare phone sat on the workbench. No one was in sight. But could they have been? Could someone have been here all along, listening to his phone call, and then slithered away? Might they be here even now?

 

The next day he took out the extra phone extensions. He even filled in the jacks with rubber cement. Daniel watched him work, eyes curious, but James offered no explanation.

 

He began giving Daniel a light physical exam every week. His CNA training was a little rusty after a year on disability, but you never really forget. It was an absurd thing to do, of course; even if there was a physical cause for Daniel's behavior, it would be nothing he could discover this way. And he was aware on some level that it was compulsive behavior. Nevertheless, it made him feel better.

 

One morning James set the diaphragm of the stethoscope against Daniel's chest, but he could not locate a heartbeat. He moved his hand in search of the right spot, to no avail. Then, to test it, he listened to his own heartbeat; it came through steady and clear. But when he checked Daniel again he didn't hear anything. A thought came unbidden to him of the Tin Man in "The Wizards of Oz", whose chest was empty as a kettle.

 

A sick feeling roiled his stomach. He threw the stethoscope down and grabbed Daniel by the shoulders, looking into his face. Daniel stared back with bright eyes. He even smiled a little, with the corners of his mouth. James felt the tingle of tears. He swept his son up in his arms and hugged him, and Daniel hugged back. Then James put his shirt back on him and sent him to play. The stethoscope, he decided, was broken. He threw it in the trash.

 

Things got worse. James' terrors were no longer relegated to the long hours of the night. Now it seemed that some creeping, some skittering and scuttling, some unknowable noise in some dark corner or another, filled every second of his day. The thought of how big the house really was started to weigh on him: There were so many rooms he wasn't in at any given time, so many places someone—or something—else could be. He imagined strange figures occupying the rest of his home when he wasn't around, melting into the walls or merging with the shadows whenever he turned on a light or opened a door. How would he know if they were there? How would he ever know?

 

Soon he didn't even have to be outside of a room to imagine it. When he walked up the stairs he pictured pale figures lurking beneath them. When he went down the hall he pictured a crawling thing slithering behind the walls, shadowing his every step. If he sat too long in the same chair he imagined that it was right behind him. And he was never comforted when he turned around and found nothing there, as he could only guess that meant it had moved, swiftly and silently, behind him once again. Wherever he was not looking right now, that was where he imagined it to be.

 

He was losing his mind, he knew. The only thing that helped him cling to sanity was that Daniel seemed undisturbed. Other than his muteness, his behavior was perfectly normal. And whenever he seemed to sense that his father was troubled he would hug him, or squeeze his hand, or even smile. Sometimes, when he left the room, James cried.

 

One night he found himself creeping around the house with no lights on at two o'clock in the morning. If the intruding thing had taken to violating his daytime activities then he would get revenge by confronting it on its own terms: the night. And really, night was no more frightening to him now than day. They were almost interchangeable.

 

He padded barefoot down the halls, up the stairs, in and out of disused rooms. Sometimes he stopped to listen, hoping to locate it by sound; it was a stealthy, creeping thing, he knew, but it was awkward at times, and it couldn't always keep its strangely shaped limbs from making their distinct, irregular footsteps. The smallest noise would give it away...

 

There was one room he suspected it spent most of its time in: the spare bedroom. Not a bedroom at all, really, more like a closet just large enough to accommodate a bed if one were so inclined. It was unpainted and uncarpeted and drafty; he'd always meant to fix it up. He didn't come in here very often because he disliked the bare, unused look of it. It made him think of a partially dissected corpse.

 

He came in now, though. If the thing made its nest any one place in the house, this would be it. Of course, there was nothing there now...but that didn't mean there was nothing there.

 

He cursed, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. What was he missing? How did it hide from him? What was its secret? He peered into the room's empty corners one by one, getting his face a few inches from the plaster and floorboards so that he could be certain—certain!—that there was no space for it to conceal itself.

 

The light bulb flickered. He froze. My God, he thought...it's on the ceiling! He pictured it crawling above him like a huge, pale lizard. That’s how it gets around, he thought, that's how it escapes anytime I should have it cornered, it just scuttles up the wall and hides right over my head! He imagined it dangling down behind him like a spider. If I turn around, he thought, it will be there, hanging with its face right next to mine. He held his breath. He did not want to turn around, but he had no choice; it was between him and the door.

 

With a quiet sob, he rounded on his heels.

 

Of course, he was alone. There was no man on the ceiling; he checked twice. Maybe it crawled out and was waiting for him in the hall...but when he checked there the coast was once again clear. It should have been a relief, but it was not. After all, it had to be in here somewhere. If the ceiling was not its trick that just meant it was something else, something even more strange, even more clever...

 

He went to Daniel's room. He had not stopped checking on him at night, like he always had. This time, though, rather than open the door he listened at it first, pressing his ear against the grain of the cheap wood and holding his breath, terrified that he would hear a skittering sound on the other side of the barrier. What he heard instead shocked him more:

 

Daniel was talking to someone.

 

James recoiled for a second and then, when he'd caught his breath, he all but kicked the door in. Daniel was already awake, indeed, sitting up in bed, but he was not saying anything now. The light flashed on and James stalked halfway into the room before stopping, suddenly torn: What did he want more, to confirm that his son could speak again or to find whomever he was speaking to?

 

The creak of a door hinge settled the matter for him. He ran to the closet and threw it open: There was nothing inside, or at least, nothing that shouldn't be there. He swept aside clothes on their hangers, but nothing was hiding between them. Then he dragged the toy box out and emptied it into the floor: Nothing. He combed along the bare walls and floor and, yes, the ceiling, pushing aside every last bit of rubbish and stray knick-knack so that he could be sure, absolutely sure, that nothing was hiding.

 

All the while Daniel watched him.

 

After a few minutes James was panting and covered in sweat and the closet was bare, and there were neither intruders nor answers inside. It struck him as funny, somehow, and he started to laugh, very quietly. He kicked his son's toys out of the way as he went to sit down on the bed, dazed. He became aware, all at once, of several things, first being that he had not slept in days and was nowhere near his right mind. The second was how close he'd come to really losing it, for good.

 

Tomorrow, he decided, they would both sleep until the afternoon, and when they did wake up he and Daniel would get out of this creaky old house. No more staying cooped up like prisoners, and no more checkups, and no more dreams about monsters. He would even take the bars off the windows. It was time to get back to living like real people again. It was time to—

 

James saw it when he brushed a hand through Daniel's hair. He pulled Daniel (a little too roughly) closer. His son acquiesced to the examination without fidgeting or complaint as James pawed the side of his head, hoping that what he was seeing would somehow stop being apparent. He stared and stared until he ached from not blinking, but there was no denying what was right in front of his eyes:

 

Daniel was missing an ear.

 

No, he realized with mounting nausea: both ears. There was no injury, no incision, no mark where they should have been, simply smooth, blank flesh. As blank as Daniel's quiet, unperturbed demeanor.

 

James swept him up in his arms and ran into the hall. He was not sure where he was going or what he meant to do when he got there, he just knew that there was now nothing more important than getting his son out of that house. But their path was cut off: A naked man sat in the hallway with his back to them. No, not a man: James recognized its stretched limbs and stooped shoulders. The pale thing squatted on its haunches, rocking back and forth like it was palsied. It almost seemed to be in pain. James hugged his son closer and backed away. Then he heard Daniel's voice: "dad-ee."

 

James turned to Daniel, and he heard the voice again:

 

"dad-ee."

 

But Daniel's lips hadn't moved.

 

James looked back at the hunched figure. Its head jerked when it talked, like a tic:

 

"hello. dad-ee."

 

James' mouth went dry. It took several tries before he could speak. "Don't call me that."

 

"it is. this voice's name. for you."

 

"Go away. Leave my family alone."

 

"but i am. your family."

 

The longer it talked the more the voice became distorted and blurred. An icy feeling nestled in James' stomach. "Who are you?"

 

"someone. who came to visit."

 

"Why here?"

 

"you. invited me."

 

James' heart thudded against the inside of his chest. "Why?"

 

"i had. something you wanted."

 

James licked his dry lips. "You're lying. You don't have anything I want. I want you to leave. Leave, and never come back."

 

"who. is. daniel's. mother?"

 

James blinked. "What?"

 

"who. is. daniel's. mother?"

 

"What the hell kind of question is that?"

 

"how. old. is. daniel?"

 

James blinked again. The thing's voice caused a pinching pain in the center of his forehead. "Stop asking me these things."

 

"when. is. daniel's. birthday?"

 

"...I don't know."

 

"what. is. his. middle. name?"

 

"Shut up."

 

"what. was. his. first word?"

 

"I said shut up!" James wanted to tear the thing apart with his bare hands. Only the heaviness of Daniel in his arms kept him where he was.

 

"you were. alone. you wanted. a son. so i. made one. for you."

 

James' hands began to shake. "That doesn't make sense. Made out of what?"

 

"out of. myself."

 

James' stomach turned over.

 

"but now. i need those parts. back."

 

Daniel picked at James' shoulder to get his attention. Something was strange about Daniel's face. "Danny? Open your eyes."

 

Daniel scrunched his eyes shut tighter.

 

"Open your eyes. Danny? Danny. Open your eyes. Open your eyes!"

 

Daniel shook his head, trying to refuse, but he couldn't hold it forever. Eventually his eyelids flicked up and James saw the truth.

 

Daniel's eyes were gone.

 

James almost dropped him. For a second he wanted to throw his son down so that he could stop looking into those empty holes in his face. Daniel opened his mouth, as if to speak, but of course, he had no voice.

 

"he is coming back. to be part of me. again."

 

"No. No, no, no, give him back, give him back!"

 

"i. cannot. it has been. too long. i warned you. this. would happen."

 

"You're lying! You're lying, you're a ****ing liar, give me my son back, give him back!"

 

"i. do not lie. i. warned you. he could not exist forever. but you. do not remember. you. can only remember. what i want you to. you forget. all the times. we have talked."

 

Daniel felt like a doll, or an empty bag. His hair was falling out, disappearing before it touched the ground. His hands vanished into his sleeves and his feet rolled up inside his pants cuffs. James cradled the tiny, shapeless thing. Tears streamed down his face. Soon he held a pile of empty clothes, and then those too were gone.

 

He looked around the house; toys disappeared, photos vanished from their frames, Daniel's little shoes were no longer by the door. James turned toward Daniel's room and confronted a wall where the door should be. He groped the blank surface, fingertips scrambling. He hit his head against the wall. The pain didn't feel real. "Why did you do this?"

 

"it was. what you wanted. and i learned. so much."

 

"This is impossible. People will ask, people will wonder: the police, the hospitals, the people in the neighborhood!"

 

"they. have already. forgotten him. they only. remembered. what i wanted them to. like you."

 

James pressed his hands to his aching skull. "Will I at least remember him after this?"

 

"you. can try. but your mind. will fail you. now that everything. he was. is part of me. again."

 

James sat on the floor, looking at the blank wall. Out the corner of his eye he saw the thing creep toward him and even felt its wet hand on his shoulder, but he did not look at it.

 

"If I won't remember any of this," he said, "then why tell me?"

 

"because. a father. should know."

 

And then James was alone.

 

***

 

Abigail worried about James sometimes.

 

When they met a year ago, he said that he'd never been married and he'd never had kids, but there was a certain pained expression he assumed when he said the last part. Abigail knew that look: She'd met parents who lost children before. You learned to recognize it.

 

And there were other things about him that worried her too. Sometimes she would find him staring at a particular spot on the wall, brow furrowed in concentration. He did not seem to realize he was doing it. And of course there was the insomnia, and the sleepwalking to consider too. Yes, there was lots to worry about. But she loved him all the same.

 

James still said he'd never had kids, and neither had she. She'd long wanted one, but it was impossible, and she worried that James wouldn't stay with a woman who couldn't be a mother (though he constantly assured her that it was not so). There were times—and more and more often of late they were the nights when James took to sleepwalking, and even Abigail imagined that she heard strange, scuttling noises in the house and saw impossible shapes in dark corners—when she thought she would do anything, absolutely anything, if it meant having a little daughter for she and James to raise.

 

And at those moments, she became truly afraid. But she never knew why.

Edited June 2, 2014 by Flamma

[CrypticAsterisk]

Okay, I know this may be off-topic, but it concerns the Creepypasta and Slenderverse stories, so I thought I would share it here.

 

Two 12-year-old Wisconsin girls recently attempted to murder their friend. They stabbed her nineteen times, nearly hitting her heart in the process, but she lived. She has been reported to be doing well, and has been released from the hospital. The two girls are being tried as adults, and may face 60 years in jail if convicted. Now, how does this concern Creepypasta and Slenderverse, you may ask?

 

Well, the reason the two girls planned the attack in the first place was to, wait for it, impress Slenderman. I kid you not. They hoped that, by murdering their friend, Slenderman would reveal himself and take them in as proxies.

 

I cannot find the original version of the article I read, but it has been all over the news. Search up "12-year-old Slenderman" or something along those lines, and you'll find articles of all sorts. To save your time, I found one for you.

 

Click here for more information.

Edited June 7, 2014 by Drako_tamer

[Moonlight_Eevee]

Okay, I know this may be off-topic, but it concerns the Creepypasta and Slenderverse stories, so I thought I would share it here.

 

Two 12-year-old Wisconsin girls recently attempted to murder their friend. They stabbed her nineteen times, nearly hitting her heart in the process, but she lived. She has been reported to be doing well, and has been released from the hospital. The two girls are being tried as adults, and may face 60 years in jail if convicted. Now, how does this concern Creepypasta and Slenderverse, you may ask?

 

Well, the reason the two girls planned the attack in the first place was to, wait for it, impress Slenderman. I kid you not. They hoped that, by murdering their friend, Slenderman would reveal himself and take them in as proxies.

 

I cannot find the original version of the article I read, but it has been all over the news. Search up "12-year-old Slenderman" or something along those lines, and you'll find articles of all sorts. To save your time, I found one for you.

 

Click here for more information.

You know what's sad about the entirity of it all? As she was being stabbed, the gril kept screaming, 'I trusted you! I trusted you!'That's the sad part. If you trust your friends later for them to abandon you or even worse, do something like this, it's going to be hard for them to trust others again. She's going to be very wary of others now because this incident happened. And I feel so bad for her because I have been in her postion about not being able to trust someone (granted, I didn't get stabbed) but trust is a hard thing to gain.

[sparkle10184]

That's awful! ^^ I hope those girl's are given the mental help they need...

 

There was a second Slender man stabbing. A 13 year old girl in Ohio stabbed her mother. She has a mental disorder and had become obsessed with Slenderman.

[Moonlight_Eevee]

Wow, Slenderman is becoming very popular

[Lady Artemis]

The Beautiful Girl

 

She is so beautiful. Oh how I can't wait to see her again... I dream of her every night. Those blue mesmerizing eyes. The long brown hair that goes past her sturdy, but oh so delicate shoulders. I can't help thinking about her. Imagining her along side me gives me oh so much inspiration. I remember the first time I meant her at school. This year actually.

 

First semester, first quarter. It was in chemistry class. Funny story, actually. We sat next to each other. She was the class ace, and I was the slacker. I would try to act all cool like around her, and she thought I was stupid, and all that. Well I eventually dropped out of that class for failing the next semester, but she was switching classes anyways. At that time my heart went out for her. The uncontrollable love has taken over me once again.

 

She had two classes with me in the second semester: P.E., and Art class. I would mess around in class, and try to make her laugh. She eventually started to hate me for this. I embarrassed myself in her front of her, but I never got red faced around her like I usually would.

 

Time went by, and I eventually gave up on her, because I heard she was attracted to someone else.... I still loved her though, but I tried to avoid seeing her. The pain would always come back. I kept dreaming about her, but of not the usual pretty parties with flowers type deal. It would be me... In a room, an old abandoned warehouse, doing violent things to her new boyfriend while she was sleeping in a bed, but crying in her sleep. I was torturing him while he was tied to a pole.

 

Slow bloody torture. After he eventually died I took a bunch of gasoline bottles and poured it all over him and the building. Then I left the building and took off my ski mask. I had a cruel twisted smile on my face.

 

When I awoken I was surprisingly calm about the dream. I couldn't honestly say it was a nightmare. I continued to go with my daily routine, and went to school. When I got to my class with her I could hear her talking with her friends about the boyfriend not coming to school today, and she didn't get a phone call on her celly. I didn't really care about it and went on.

 

The next day she wasn't at school. I asked one of her friends where she was. The friend told me she stayed home, because her boyfriend was missing and had to get questioned by the police. I went home that day and turned on the news. They were talking about a fire that happened yesterday in an old abandoned warehouse far from the city. At that time I remembered my dream. It was odd, but had to be a coincidence.

 

The next day she was back in school. She seemed sad and didn't talk to anyone. I finally went up to her and asked her what was wrong. She began to cry, and told me about a dream she had of her boyfriend getting tortured and set on fire. I told her to relax and hugged her. She told me thank you for being such a nice friend, and wrapped her arms around me. When looking over her shoulder I couldn't help but wear that sinister smile across my face again.

Edited September 26, 2022 by LadyLyzar
Original author requested removal

[Melomancer]

^holy , this is good. I expected Elliot to die near the end though, is there more of this?

[Lady Artemis]

^holy , this is good. I expected Elliot to die near the end though, is there more of this?

Yes, it's still in progress though (: