File :-(, x, )
Anonymous
Creepy thread time, /b/. Let me begin by posting some deliciously frightful creepypasta.

The Bad Dream
"Daddy, I had a bad dream." You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it's 3:23. "Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?" "No, Daddy." The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in the darkness of your room. "Why not sweetie?" "Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up." For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can't take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift. You feel a presence grow to the back and to the right of you. It gets closer as the covers hiss quietly in movement. A dry, crackly, whining voice chimes in, "You just lost the game." Your daughter suddenly seems thousands of miles away.
>> Anonymous
That is a creepy ass story... asshole
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
damnit....all my creepy pasta and images are gone
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
goatse
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
Item #: SCP-173

Object class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Item SCP-173 is to be kept in a locked container at all times. When personnel must enter SCP-173's container, no fewer than 3 may enter at any time and the door is to be relocked behind them. At all times, two persons must maintain direct eye contact with SCP-173 until all personnel have vacated and relocked the container.

Description: Moved to Site19 1993. Origin is as of yet unknown. It is constructed from concrete and rebar with traces of Krylon brand spray paint. SCP-173 is animate and extremely hostile. The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight. Line of sight must not be broken at any time with SCP-173. Personnel assigned to enter container are instructed to alert one another before blinking. Object is reported to attack by snapping the neck at the base of the skull, or by strangulation. In the event of an attack, personnel are to observe Class 4 hazardous object containment procedures.

Personnel report sounds of scraping stone originating from within the container when no one is present inside. This is considered normal, and any change in this behaviour should be reported to the acting HMCL supervisor on duty.

>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
I shat brix
>> Anonymous
more creepypasta
>> Anonymous
moar creepypasta
>> Anonymous
>>63166836
oh lawdz
>> Anonymous
I don't have time for OC right now, so here's some stuff from my creepy folder:

You are home alone, and you hear on the news about the profile of a murderer who is on the loose. You look out the sliding glass doors to your backyard, and you notice a man standing out in the snow. He fits the profile of the murderer exactly, and he is smiling at you. You gulp, picking up the phone to your right and dialing 911. You look back out the glass as you press the phone to your ear, and notice he is much closer to you now. You then drop the phone in shock.

There are no footprints in the snow. It's his reflection
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
>>63172111


The human brain is a very complex organ. More powerful than the most advanced computers. Occassionally able to heal amazing injuries and regain use after terrible accidents. We're all /b/tards. We're all pretty well read. We've all heard the stories.

But is that really so good? With all the advances, have you maybe lost a few of the simple, but vital functions?

There's a lot of creepy-pasta out there about "closed doors". Well, not that much I guess. But a few. They always talk about the creepy feeling you get when you look at a closed door. Only sometimes, usually at night. Mostly it's just that odd sensation that something is behind it. Something scary.

Thing is... Every once in awhile, it really sinks in. That feeling that the door, and what is on one side of it is actually dangerous. That sensation that leaves you standing at the door, hand hovering above the knob, unable to move until you whisper to yourself: "It's okay, you're being a pussy" until you force yourself to turn it and walk through. These are the important times.

The door is solid. You can't see through it, you can't sense through. So when you feel so amazingly drawn to that door... feel compelled to open it, but yet you're paralyzed with fear because of what might be on the other side... remember how sometimes your "advanced" brain might confuse more basic signals coming from sensory organs you might not rely on so much these days.

And realize maybe the "simpler" parts of your brain are trying to warn you of what's on YOUR side of the door.
>> Anonymous
>>63172151

one of my favorites:

Have you ever gotten a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye? A simple movement caught in your peripheral vision. Most will simply dismiss this as a shadow brought about by a flickering candle, or perhaps a pet jumping down from a piece of furniture. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times, these people are right.

But then there's that one elusive sight. It can easily be explained by the above conditions, but something feels wrong about it. A chill down your spine, a slight pain in your side. Maybe even a complete blanking of your mind, only to recede moments later.

Should any of these symptoms be felt, there may be cause for worry. Our peripheral vision is designed to catch motion, even in the dark. This was used to defend against predators in our early days, and as with many aspects of our human nature, it has remained, but weakened.

This view out of the corner of our eyes still alerts us to danger, and although predators have dropped on the list of dangers we may face today, they still exist. Should you ever feel that queer chill in your back, try not to focus on that shadow you saw in the corner of your eye. It might be better not to see.
>> Anonymous
>>63172111
O_o didnt know that one so far
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
There’s always going to be something creepy about living in a house others have died in. Even if you don’t believe in the paranormal, there’s something about the whole idea that’s usually more than enough to make at least a few hairs on the back of your next stand up.
It was almost enough to make me reconsider purchasing the old house, but the fact the price had been slashed again and again left we with an offer simply too good to refuse. I disregarded my fear as the result of too many scary books and re-runs of ‘The Shining’ on late night TV. Now however, I recognize my denial as my first mistake. Fear is described as a survival mechanism for a reason; I know now that ignoring it is one of the worst mistakes a person can make, regardless of how irrational the fear may seem.
The house was big. Not exactly a mansion, but a good two stories (although it looked much smaller from the outside. About a third of the first story was below ground. I’m still not entirely sure why, perhaps if just formed a stronger foundation, or was necessary to create such a large cellar. Regardless, this is irrelevant). The house was built from light cobblestone; It was definitely an older house. The roof was made of dark blue tile, and several vines had begun to wind their way up the front of the establishment. They might have just been over grown weeds, but it added to the building a kind of charm.
>> Anonymous
i want sum original contents ... ive read almost all creepy pasta
>> Anonymous
>>63172439


A black iron fence had been erected around the yard; that would have to go. I should probably explain. The iron fence had been connected to one of the houses two deaths. About 17 months ago, one of the elderly residents had thrown himself from the second story window in the right wing, where the fence runs noticeably closer alongside the house. That in itself had crossed me as strange when I’d first heard it. As I mentioned earlier, the house isn’t as tall as a normal two story house. It doesn’t seem like the kind of height someone would throw themselves from if they wanted to end their life. Regardless of whether the height would or wouldn’t have killed him, the old man had become impaled on the black iron fence, and that had done the trick. Either the old man was aiming for the fence, or he had faith that the relatively short drop would be enough for his age worn bones. The former seemed extremely gruesome for a suicide, while the later seemed foolish.
>> Anonymous
>>63172528

This first death had set into motion a series of events which directly lead to the next. The old man’s wife, according to the police report, returned home from some simple grocery shopping, found her husband impaled and tried to pull him down. After failing (and bloodying her hands in the process) she retreated inside where, in her grief, she had taken her own life. She had gone into the walk in pantry, and hung herself with a length of super strength fishing line. The scene had been gruesome; the blood of her husband had been smeared on the walls as she flailed and suffocated; the jump from one of the shelves having failed to break her neck and make it quick. Furthermore, the lady had torn at the wire with her fingers as she flailed, tearing up her hands and neck as the wire failed to come loose.
Still. A bargain is a bargain. I didn’t regret it in the slightest until my third night sleeping there.
>> Anonymous
>>63172589

At about 3AM I awoke. Something had whispered to me. There was no doubt in my head; this wasn’t a trick of the mind. Something had whispered to me in a rasp, tortured whimper, and it had been enough to awake me instantly without the usual drowsiness. I would say the whisper chilled my spine, but that would do how I felt no justice. I was petrified. The tortured whimper had sounded elderly, and instantaneously it bought to mind images of the old man who used to inhabit the house. After a moment I began to wonder where those images had come from; I’d never seen any photos of the deaths, nor had I any desire to. Then I realized I must have dreamed them. My mind had thrown together a spooky concoction of all the descriptive language I was offered by the salesman. Regardless of whether the images were real or not; the whisper was. With its message fresh in my mind, and ringing in my ears, I began to head upstairs to the attic. I don’t know what compelled me to do so at that exact time of night, but I had to. The voice needed me. It had said so.

‘Please. Help me. He’s coming back.’
>> Anonymous
MOAR
>> Anonymous
>>63172667

I studied the attic from its entrance at the top of the stairs. So this was the room in which the first elderly resident had taken his life; the hair on the back of my neck danced in what seemed like a freak cold breeze. What was I even doing here; this was crazy? But I had heard that whisper. There was something here I had to see, someone I had to help. My concentration was broken by a noticeable slam downstairs. Instinctively I threw myself behind some abandoned furniture from the previous tenants; an old couch caked in dust. I could hear heavy footsteps, pounding away at the floorboards. Someone was moving with speed, and they were headed up the stairs. I reached out behind me for anything to make me feel less vulnerable. I settled for an old copper bed lamp. Not exactly a gun, but it would have to do. I braced myself, back to the couch and tried to control my breathing. I peered around the corner. An old man had reached the top of the staircase, he was flustered and sweat beaded down his temple. I was about to try and jump the elderly intruder. He seemed old enough to be over powered without much risk, despite his valiant effort at the scaling stairs. Something stopped me, however. That voice; a whimper, an elderly woman. Crying.
‘No. You need to see. You need to see what happened. You need to know. Oh god, he’s coming back.’
>> Anonymous
>>63172731

I had entirely taken my focus away from the old man, those tortured words still haunt me to this day. I couldn’t describe them. The despair in her voice, like she already knew she was dead. My trance was broken by a cry of despair from the old man. He had seen something at the bottom of the staircase. Only now I noticed his shirt was ripped across the front, he may even have been bleeding.
Oh god, I realized. He’s running from something.
The old man back further way from the stairs, his back facing the large window from which Id been told one of the previous tenants had leapt from. Suddenly I knew how it was all going to unfold. Nothing I could do here was going to make a difference, it had all already happened. The most I could do was watch. Learn. I needed to see what really happened.
Another figure emerged from the staircase; clad in a heavy raincoat, bright yellow with a shiny plastic finish. Wearing gumboots, and with his face covered by the raincoats hood. Only now did I realize it was raining outside. The old man’s eyes widened in terror as he saw the intimidating figure approach. The new intruder didn’t hold any noticeable weapon, but I noticed red handprints smeared across the front of his raincoat, confirming my previous assumption that the old man had been wounded. The old man began to grovel.
>> Anonymous
...and then John was a zombie.
>> Anonymous
>>63172777
>> Anonymous
MOAR
>> Anonymous
>>63172777


‘No, please, who are you? What are you doing here? Please, just go, why would you do this!?’
The figure in the raincoat kept advancing, and the old man realized there was no reasoning with him. As a last resort, he turned to face the window and charged forward as fast as he could. The window shattered and the old man when flying. I didn’t bother checking on him. I knew of this story had ended. Or at least this chapter. After walking up to the shattered window, the raincoat killer, as I so creatively dubbed him, seemed to fade out of existence. The window appeared to be un broken, and there was no sign that anyone but myself had set foot upstairs. I stood in silence for a moment; contemplating what I’d seen, as well as my next course of action. The only logical step, if logic still had a part to play in all of this, was to check the pantry. I began to descend to stairs and froze stiff. Down the bottom of the stairs was the figure in the raincoat, staring at me.
>> Anonymous
>>63172905

My heart was racing a thousand beats a minutes. I braced for what seemed like the inevitable; for the intruder to throw himself up the stairs in pursuit of me. But he didn’t. He slowly looked away from me and began advancing towards the kitchen. It was then I realized it must be some kind of illusion, just as before. I was being shown something. It seemed I no longer had a choice in the matter; slowly I followed him into the kitchen. I could hear crying again. Was it? Yes. Definitely. Whoever was crying was definitely the voice I had heard earlier. It was coming from the pantry. The next page of the story unfolded in my brain. The old lady hadn’t killed herself in the pantry; she was hiding. She heard her husband murdered and cowered for her life. A chilling scream pierced the air as the pantry door was opened by the raincoat clad killer. I noticed a length of fishing wire in his right hand. I turned away. I didn’t have to see what was happening to know how it was all unfolding.
The murderer had chased the old man upstairs. He had made a leap of faith to try and save his life, and had impaled himself on the iron gate outside. Hearing the commotion, his wife had hid in the pantry, where after hearing her whimpering, the killer had turned his attention. He had strung her up with the fishing line. She had fought back, smearing her handprints on the walls, and trying in vain to pull the wire from her neck. There were no suicides here at all. They were all brutal murders.
>> Anonymous
tl;dr

/r/ some REALLY scary shit
>> Anonymous
>>63172969

I turned back in time to see the pantry door closing, and the raincoat man fade from existence. I had no idea what to do no. I felt sick in my stomach, I thought I was going to lose my dinner. I did. I stood retching in the corner of the kitchen, when I started to hear a laugh. It was coming from the pantry. Someone was laughing at me from the pantry. I advanced slowly, and opened the door. The old lady was still in there, hung from the fishing line; but for some reason, smiling. Again, she started a hearty chuckle, which got louder and louder. It seemed almost too deep for her. I was about to reach for a kitchen knife that sat on the bench beside me, but stopped. This was another vision. There was something I had to see. I swallowed my fear and spoke up to the lady.
‘What is it? What do you want me to see? Do you have a vision for me?’.
The old lady laughed again. He reply chilled me to the bone.
‘No. No more visions. I warned you he was coming back.’
Like every vision before, the mess in the pantry just seemed to evaporate. I took a moment to collect my thoughts. ‘No more visions? So it’s over. They must want me to report what happened to the police to open a new investigation. But when did the murderer come back?’
Then as quietly, but as surely as the whispers earlier in the night, the front door clicked open.
>> Anonymous
don't look behind you, they don't like to be seen
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
>>63173075
awesome
>> Anonymous
is there more///
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
hi
>> Anonymous
In almost every building, there is one corner, one small enclosure that no one ever looks at. It's the corner in the basement that has been blocked by a disused sofa for years; the thin space in the attic between the wall and the stacks and stacks of crates full of junk you never use, but could never throw away. The space that never sees the light of day, or any other kind of light at all. Where darkness does not merely dominate, but practically oozes out from around the edges of its prison.

No one knows quite how long a space must remain concealed for it to acquire this particular property, nor if there are any specific conditions it must meet. But it is a far more common occurrence than you might think.

In newer buildings, when this happens, the residents often report feeling cold when passing by, even in attics during the hottest of summers. Whenever contemplating taking a quick peek to see if there is anything actually there, an unnatural dread seizes them, and they leave the room quickly, if not quite running. Once left behind, the feeling passes, and it is quickly forgotten, or laughed off.

What actually happens in these forgotten sanctuaries of the dark? It is impossible to tell. For while many such corners have been exposed to reveal absolutely nothing, some brave souls have lost their sanity through nothing more than an ill-timed glance. The safest thing to do when encountered with such a phenomenon; close your eyes, rip away the area's covering in a single motion, then keep a tight hold on what you've pulled away. No matter what you hear or feel, do not get up, do not look around, and do not try to cover your ears. You might be one of the lucky ones.
>> Anonymous
okay that was almost everything I had, someone post some new creepy pasta naow...
>> Anonymous
>>63173075
see that wasnt really creepy cus the killer was just a man not a ghost or a demon or anything therefore itd be easy to kill the killer
>> Anonymous
Legend has it that if you travel east to Japan, you will find an old man living on the coast just 40 miles south of Tokyo. If you give this man $500,000 he will take you to an island just off the coast that can't be found on any map. This island is filled with people without faces or names, who hold grudges over the most trivial of matters. When you arrive at this island the first thing you will see is a swimming pool that is never open. Just beyond the pool you will find a town that is filled with cats. You must find a white cat wearing a pink bow. If you ask the cat how to get to Mexico, he will stand up and ask you for three things: Your name, your face, and your soul. If you agree to give them to him, your face will vanish and you will forget your own name. You can live on the island and have whatever you desire, but you can never leave the island. The only way to escape is to find the cat again and ask for a young child. The next day a van will pull up in front your house. You will hear a knock at the door, and a voice will ask if you want to come to a party. No one knows what happens if you answer the door.
>> Anonymous
MOAR

Best thread all day.
>> Anonymous
>>63173698

How do you know the figure in the raincoat was "just a man"?
>> Anonymous
How many days have you been in this room?

I know you think to yourself at some point last night you went to sleep, and then woke up, to do the things that you normally do on such a weekday.

That's because you don't remember his hands. The rough, calloused hands with the long fingers, rubbing up and down your body. You don't remember the unforgiving straps that held your head in place. Your eyes, open, but blurred could only see a crumpled girl in the corner, crying. As she cried, she pointed right at your face and covered her mouth. You could feel cold metal in your ears - but you don't remember.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
http://www.johndiesattheend.com/

Made of pure win.
>> Anonymous
The Bad Dream
"Daddy, I had a bad dream." You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your Glock glows red in the darkness from the niggers yo be cappin—it's 3:23.

"Do you want to climb into hell and tell me about it?" "No, Daddy." The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out the dead niggers dark form in the darkness of your pistol smoke. "Why not nugga?" "Because in my hood, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Jamal's fake shiny bling sat up." For a moment, you feel paralyzed... paralyzed by niggerdom; you can't take your eyes off of your watermelon.

The covers behind you begin to shift. You feel a presence grow to the back and to the right of you... Bang Bang! You just shot the Sheriff. It gets closer as the covers hiss quietly in movement. A dry, crackly, whining voice chimes in, you pistol whip that sucka ass nugga 'befo he can draw.

The cops burst through the door... You notice one is your mother, she looks scared. She says "You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-air."
>> Anonymous
>>63174402
damn great stuff
>> Anonymous
OC:
It started a couple weeks ago. I was driving home from a friend's place pretty late at night- 1 or 2 I think. I passed a hitchhiker in dark clothes, with brown gloves with the fingers cut off, and I looked at him, and noticed he was looking at me. I felt a little guilty to be in my warm car, but also a little uncomfortable. When we made eye contact I felt a strange chill.

I forgot all about it, until 2 nights after that. I saw him again, on the same trip home, but he was further on the route, about a mile closer to my home. He seemed to be staring right at me, not even looking at other cars, and this time there were a few on the road. I looked away and sped up and didn't sleep well that night.

Then this week, I saw him again- a street two blocks from my house. It seems like I see him everywhere now, even during the day, but I know mostly he's just in my head- but at night, he's always there, and he's getting closer.

Last night I saw him at the end of my street. I called the cops, but they didn't believe my story. I didn't sleep at all, I stayed awake all night just in case...

Tonight I didn't see him at all, but that only scared me more. Outside my house, I noticed that the mailbox flag was up. I just stared at it for what must have been a solid minute, which is a lot longer than it seems. I checked inside once I worked up the courage and there was a note inside, sitting on a brown glove with no fingers. The note was dirty and crumpled and was one word. "Tomorrow."
>> Anonymous
>>63175356

That was 3 hours ago. I'm in a hotel just outside town, I can't go home, but I don't think that'll help. I told the guy at the desk if anyone came asking for me, no visitors, I think he thinks I'm crazy. Twice the phone rang. I didn't give anyone my number. The second time I picked it up, but there wasn't anyone there. There was, though....

I don't know what to do, I don't know what's happening but... There's the phone again... I'm writing this down and going to try and get it out, so that if something happens, at least people will know... If you're driving home at night, and see a hitchhiker just don't look at him, just look at the road, look at your lap if you have to just don't look at him for the love of God DON'T LOOK. Please, please.

I'm sending this now... I just answered the phone, but this time it was the desk. The clerk wants to know if I lost a glove. He says he found it in the lobby, and I'm the only one he's seen down there all night. Brown, with no fingers... Of course.

And I think I hear footsteps. I'm going to go unlock the door now. Just remember what I said. Don't look.

>> Anonymous
>>63175398
>>63175356
Very lovecraft, with the "OH SHIT I'M GOING TO DIE BUT FIRST I HAVE TO FINISH WRITING THIS KAY"
Nice to seem some original content in one of these things,
>> Anonymous
>>63175356
>>63175398

pretty good
MOAR!
>> Anonymous
C
>> Anonymous
MOAR! I don't wanna sleep tonight. But I will considering I've read most of these.
>> Anonymous
MOAR

btw the John dies at the end page is brilliant
>> Anonymous
don't know what to do anymore. I’m so scared and I can't trust anyone.
I went camping about 3 weekends ago in the Huntsville national forest in Texas. Me and 3 friends that came home for the weekend, they are all in college and usually we all get together at least once a year, old friends from high school. For the camping trip we planned to go backpacking deep in the forest, live off of fish that we catch and animals that we can trap. We have been doing this for awhile in Texas and in numerous places, Arizona, Colorado (if anyone is familiar with the Spanish peaks there), New Mexico, so we‘re pretty much used to anything you‘d encounter out there. It was my turn to pick where we went camping, so I chose Huntsville (more accurately it’s Huntsville/New Waverly). So we drive up there park our car in a camping park spot and start walking off into the forest. We had some laughs along the way, everyone catching up with each other's lives. We walked until it started to get dark and set up camp where we stopped. Everyone gathered wood to make a fire and we set our tent up. And we do what we always do: try and scare each other with weird stories.
Around this time we started to smell something very faint. It was noticeable, but not overbearing. We couldn't put our finger on what it was, so we just carried on. Mike had to go piss and he walked off in the forest. A second later he come running back, piss all down his jeans like he’d missed really bad. Immediately we all crack up and throw some jokes at him. Then we noticed that he was white as snow and trying to catch his breath. He starts screaming for us to follow him, and runs off.
>> Anonymous
>>63177091


We all get serious and go follow him, not knowing what the problem was. We start to hear a faint scream and crying in the distance, in the direction we were running. It was pitch black away from the camp and Mike had the only flash light (we left ours at the camp, he had his from his trip taking a piss), so at this stage we didn’t have much choice but to follow the light, which was frantically pointing here and there in front of him. The scream gets closer and Mike starts to slow down. We then notice a ratty old cabin that looked like it was abandoned, except for a faint light that we could see from one of the old mildew covered windows. The crying was intense: whoever it was couldn't breathe enough to let out a full yell. We all followed Mike up to the front door and we could all hear the crying from inside. As soon as he knocked on the door it stopped.
We all waited and heard really heavy footsteps walking fast to the door. There was a giant slam against the door and the sound of a bolt unlocking. Then nothing. We waited for a bit, knocked a few more times, but still nothing happened. We walked around the house (there was no fucking way any of us were leaving each other’s side) and noticed a window, which was a good way up. Alex took a deep breath and said asked us to give him a boost so he could see inside. Me and Mike lifted him up to the window. We watched him brush away dirt and webs from the window and place his face close to the window to try and see something.
>> Anonymous
>>63177202


There was a quick beat. Then suddenly he breathed in fast and let out a loud scream. Then he fell back from the window, screaming bloody murder the whole way. We all tried to calm him down but he was hysterical. We went to him but he started to shake, punch, kick, you name it, and then took off towards the camp. None of us wanted to be separated so we all ran close behind him. We caught up to him and grabbed him and set him down. The fire was dying out so I grabbed some nearby wood that we collected added it to the fire. My hands were shaking and I had to do something. I went back to Alex and we all tried to calm him down. He wouldn't he kept screaming and was breathing so hard that he eventually fainted.
All of us are terrified now, and we all kept the fire high until sunrise. Periodically Alex kept waking up, screaming just like before. By sunrise he was up and looked catatonic, just mumbling to himself and whimpering.
Me and Mike decide to go look at the cabin now it was daylight. We searched where we thought it was, except there was nothing there. Nothing at all. The indistinct smell from last night had now grown into a very strong smell of something dead, something stale. We headed back to the camping site. When we got there we found Alex had chewed into the sides of his face and swallowed so much blood that he was throwing up. John was at his back, and he looked like he was about to die from exhaustion. I guess we all looked that way, I just didn't notice until I saw his face. Alex said quietly that we need to leave. Now.
>> Anonymous
>>63177202
I've read this before and it scared the shit out of me.
>> Anonymous
moar of this
>> Anonymous
John, YOU ARE THE DEMONS.
>> Anonymous
>>63177251

We all started to pack up the tent. It started to rain really heavily (it was about noon) and the sky started to grow really dark. Alex started to go into a panic. He went and grabbed a big stick and yelled at us to leave it and leave, now, or he‘d knock us out and drag us out of there himself. Mike started to yell at him, and they started to fight. We broke it up and finished packing, and then started to make our way back. After a little while we arrived at a creek we had crossed the previous day, only it was flooded over, and the water was moving to fast for us to cross it. Alex started to scream again, yelling at Mike for taking his time packing up the tent when we could have gotten out of here. This went on for a while until we finally convinced Alex to calm down and tell us what happened. He said as soon as he put his face to the glass, a face on the other side did the same thing, and started to smile really big. It had dark eyes and a dark mouth which was much bigger then Alex's, as the smile got as large as it could a giant shadow behind it swung something down and sliced it‘s face off. The face was stuck to the window, and he said it started to laugh quietly as it slid down. Mike, still pissed off (and though he wouldn‘t admit it, beginning to get freaked out), started to argue with him again. We eventually started to follow the creek for a way to cross.
>> Anonymous
MOAR CREEPY PASTA NAO
>> Anonymous
>>63177857

We then started to see toys floating in the creek. Really old toys, old Barbie dolls and baby dolls. This wasn't like any old trash floating in the creek, though…this was a lot of barbies, a lot of baby dolls. One washed towards the side and Mike picked it up. It had some kind of voice chip that was dying and started to say some gurgling words we couldn't understand, followed by it’s sad excuse for laughter. Then it sounded like it was whispering. We thought the batteries must be dieing, he threw it down. We kept going, and the sun was starting to set. Alex was freaking out more now, and was whimpering and breathing heavily. We all started to see shadows move behind trees, something we all called BS on until we all seeing it. It was barely light out and we stop as we see the cabin right in front of us. None of us knows what to think. Mike says “This is bull, I’m going in there.” Alex tries to stop him. We all do, all of us just wanted to go home. Mike says to all of us to fuck off, do our own thing, he doesn't care anymore, this is all bull.
>> Anonymous
>>63178014

We start to hear hundreds of the same sort baby doll as before, laughing, whispering and trying to sing. We start to move forward past the cabin, all of us, and kept pushing forward. We smelled something dead in the air, something stale. The same something as before. We started to hear something crying, and something screaming. We kept on going. We eventually crossed the creek and left the woods. We get back to our vehicle and got in. Its pitch black, and we drive. We are about to get on the 45 to Houston but the road is under construction and can't be accessed. It points to a detour. As we head towards the detour it seems to be small, bumpy dirt road going into the woods. We then see a young girl come up to us. She looks like she was in trouble, young and pretty. She approaches the passenger side door and she looks like she‘s really drugged up, or beaten up. Alex doesn't roll down the windows, nor does he open the door. She reaches for the handle and he immediately locks it. She puts her face on the window and starts to smile really big. We floor it, Alex starts to cry and scream and we are all breathing heavy. We finally cut on a street that takes us to the 45 and we take it the whole way. When we get back to my apartment everyone doesn't know what to say and we all break apart and go our separate ways.
>> Anonymous
I was at work today, sort of dozing off- I haven't slept well lately- part of it's my knee, I've had to limp, I must've whacked it good when I was asleep or something- and I heard a few radio reports about some grisly murders in the area. Seems someone is out at night hacking people up- pretty awful stuff. Nothing like it has ever really happened in this town before. Police have no real leads, seems random.

I got some stronger locks for my house when I heard about it. The guy at the desk thought it was kind of funny- I'm a big guy, after all- 6'2", about 220 pounds, what am I scared of? But hey, better safe than sorry. Every day I hear about another murder on the radio- all I got to distract me at work, and keep me awake- I gotta see the doctor about my sleep, I wake up exhausted every damn morning, seems like.

Anyway, I never watch TV much- too violent for my tastes- but I wanted to catch the news to hear more about this killer. I heard on the radio the police were working on a description based on some footprints- amazing what they can do these days, isn't it?

So I put on the news and they said that the killer was probably a big guy, sort of heavyset. Probably about 6 feet. They also said they noticed that he seemed to favor one side according to the prints. I shut off the TV after that.

I think I know why I've been waking up so tired. Tomorrow I'm going to try and get some more locks, if I can find any that need a key on both sides. I'm trying to stay up, but I'm so tired. I keep getting the urge to go to sleep.

Maybe just a nap? A short nap couldn't hurt...

At least it couldn't hurt me.
>> Anonymous
>>63178263

Sorry to break chain. Forgot to refresh- me again (hitchhiker thing). Goin to bed, but hope you liked. I'll try to do more next time I see one of these threads.
>> Anonymous
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHviwdECNjU

Not a rick-roll
>> Anonymous
>>63178082


Mike messages me later and says he is going to go back. I try to convince him not to and all he does is say it was our own minds that were screwing with us. I think he just went to prove to himself he wasn’t scared. I can smell that stench everywhere now. I don't go out anymore, I just stay in and don't answer the door. Last week everyone I met was acting really strange, people that I knew for a long time and total strangers. My own dad, when I went to his place to eat supper with him he just watched me, strangely, when I was sitting down. He didn't say a word the whole time. I kept asking him “What’s wrong?” He just slowly shook his head.
When I was leaving to go home I turned to wave. He had black eyes and an open mouth like he was in pain. When I started to walk back he shut the door and bolted it. I stayed there knocking and knocking. Nothing. I called him, his phone was disconnected. I even called the police halfway through the questions they were asking me the connection started to fade into static. I could hear a faint mumbling, singing and laughing.
>> Anonymous
never camping again
>> Anonymous
>>63178380

Mike has completely vanished. There is not even a record of him being alive. When I call Alex’s house they talk to me like I’m some salesman. They say they don't know any Alex and to please stop talking. The person who tells me that is Alex‘s mother. I can’t get ahold of John. Someone knocked on my door and when I went to look I saw a face completely covering the peephole and a giant smile started to form. I called the cops again and instead of it turning into static they got really strange. “Sir, are you affected by any drugs at the moment?” “No.” “Are you coming home anytime soon?” “Excuse me?” “Come home.” and the phone clicks. My mail slot swings every now and then. Someone is sliding pieces of baby dolls through it. I try to call people now and all I can hear is static and bad baby doll noises and this crying and screaming. My TV is busted but when I go to piss I can hear it on. I might be going insane.
>> Anonymous
It was a pocket radio that buzzed, hissed and chattered where it sat alone on the stool of the bar, I was hesitant to pick it up, I don’t know why, the little brown thing just filled me with an uneasy feeling, an itching under my skin that no amount of clawing or rubbing would take away. I grabbed it eventually conquering the churning of my gut, its just the hunger I reminded myself, you’ve been on the road a long time. I could barely remember where I was or how far I had to go, the night seemed endless, it was all pitch and lacking in stars, I’d driven what, four hours and slept at least three, it should be morning now, it should be light, but it wasn’t and the wind that howled and slapped against the windows of empty diner worried me more than the itching of the radio and the horrible sense of foreboding this abandoned place was starting to push upon me.
As I grasped the radio I flipped it off, holding it out a second as my ears adjusted to the near silence of the place, where was the wind? Just seconds ago it had been fighting with the awful chattering and hissing for who would claim the noise most likely to send me running blindly, why was I so scared? And why was this diner deserted, it was open, surely then someone must be working here, someone pulling the night shift, someone left the radio out as they went to the back, and that awful wind rushing out of the starless night had knocked it out of tune, surely that was the answer.
>> Anonymous
>>63178431

Whoever lives above me started to scream in pain and crying deeply recently. I hear giant footsteps from their apartment, I hear bangs and something falling to the ground. From the neighbours to the right of my apartment I hear what sounds like a baby that never gets tended too and then it sounds like a baby doll whose batteries are dying. My phone has been ringing now and it’s Alex telling me things in a language that I have never heard before, nor could even manage to repeat. I kept getting emails of pictures of black and small colorations, now I can't even access my email. Someone knocks on the door, then they slam against it. I hear the bolts unlocking one by one and I run to make sure to lock all of them back and sit down crying. What do I do? My electricity keeps dimming. My water, sinks, bath, shower, all smell like something dead. I keep seeing a shadow of someone behind me raising something up in the air, and I just take off to the other side of the apartment with my head against the wall. I have boarded my windows shut, someone was throwing rocks through them. I never could see who. I have boarded my bedroom in, I hear crying and screaming in there now. And right now while I’m typing this I can see the reflection off the computer screen of some shadow behind me...
>> Anonymous
SHIT needed to fix something stupid. I'm too tired to be doing these now. Ironic. Night /b/!

>I was at work the other day, sort of dozing off- I haven't slept well lately- part of it's my knee, I've had to limp, I must've whacked it good when I was asleep or something- and I heard a few radio reports about some grisly murders in the area. Seems someone is out at night hacking people up- pretty awful stuff. Nothing like it has ever really happened in this town before. Police have no real leads, seems random.

I got some stronger locks for my house when I heard about it. The guy at the desk thought it was kind of funny- I'm a big guy, after all- 6'2", about 220 pounds, what am I scared of? But hey, better safe than sorry. Every day I hear about another murder on the radio- all I got to distract me at work, and keep me awake- I gotta see the doctor about my sleep, I wake up exhausted every damn morning, seems like.

Anyway, I never watch TV much- too violent for my tastes- but I wanted to catch the news to hear more about this killer. I heard on the radio the police were working on a description based on some footprints- amazing what they can do these days, isn't it?

So I put on the news and they said that the killer was probably a big guy, sort of heavyset. Probably about 6 feet. They also said they noticed that he seemed to favor one side according to the prints. I shut off the TV after that.

I think I know why I've been waking up so tired. Tomorrow I'm going to try and get some more locks, if I can find any that need a key on both sides. I'm trying to stay up, but I'm so tired. I keep getting the urge to go to sleep.

Maybe just a nap? A short nap couldn't hurt...

At least it couldn't hurt me.
>> Anonymous
>>63178453
I made to the door, fingers reaching slowly to it, testing it, my fears were proved to be right, it was locked, but how could it be locked, I had entered that way, I was sure of it, sure as my car keys were in my pocket. I fumbled into my pockets, first the right and the left then I thrust both hands into the back, nothing, but how could there be nothing, two receipts, my wallet and my keys that was what was in my damn pockets when I woke up in the car, how long ago was that? My head hurt, span, when I blinked it wasn’t black but vibrant disturbing whirling patterns, get a grip, get a grip your fine, must have dropped my keys I must have dropped my keys, I strained to look out through the dirty plastic of the door, it was a cheap grubby diner, they couldn’t afford the glass, probably a good thing with all that wind, that wind, where had it gone? All I could hear now was a rasping sound, quiet but distinct, like a saw pulling lightly against a piece of wood, the teeth getting caught then releasing, caught then released. I squinted through the dirty plastic windows again, nothing; the night was a brick wall of black, not a shape to be seen in it, as solid as the floor below me it seemed. That rasping, was it getting louder, was it rasping there seemed a labour to it, some kind of moist sound, I looked behind me, there was still no one here, all the lights were on, but no one home. Again that rasping, more moist now, sounding almost animal in origin, a noise caught in the throat of something, someone wheezing perhaps, it was hard to hear, it was still muffled, strangled or just too far away.
>> Anonymous
that story is awesome
>> Anonymous
this thread is relevant to my interests...
>> Anonymous
>>63179231
I stood for minutes, erect, tongue caught between my front teeth, eyes searching back and forth, scanning the floor then the bar top, floor, bar top, floor, bar top, floor and then backroom door, what was that? A flicker at the small window, a crackle of light perhaps, no more likely my eyes, please let it just be my eyes. The rasping was still there but louder now, it baffled me, I hadn’t moved yet the volume increased, but as I listened and the nausea crept into the pit of me once more, I realised the source was no closer, it felt suffocating, made the air clammy now, it was cold before, now I began to sweat. I wrinkled my brow, fighting the inner questions of confusion as I listened harder, then it happened, the sound changed just for a second, but it was enough to make solid the saliva in my throat, the sound cascaded briefly ascending to a louder version of its former self, more wet than moist, before snapping off with a quick breathy burst of a sound akin too HEP HEP. I stood frozen to the spot, chest locked with the previous breath, refusing to let it out as I stared straight ahead, searching the space around me with my ears, hoping my hearing would not betray me now. But I heard nothing, no HEP, no rasping and no slick moist sound, just silence.
>> Anonymous
>>63179888
I dared to move after yet another minute had passed, sighing heavily, my head no longer hurt, my stomach had surrendered, no longer a pit, I felt full and warm, though even this worried me lightly, felt like a false complacency, one that I shouldn’t be feeling, was I safe here, I didn’t know this place, these roads, this country, I was a stranger here, and this place was the strangest of strangers to me. I jumped, startled the wind again, it slammed against the window, as heavy as some forest beast trying to smash the plastic in, my eyes wild were locked on the far window of the diner, refusing to move as the wind once again made more horrendous noise, slamming and shaking the plastic, I gulped again, looked down at the brown radio, then up, up into the shadows behind the bar top. Those shadows there seemed to squirm for a second and a voice just to my left spoke “Been stood there a while m’lad, get ye’self moving I would.” It was a warm voice matching the breath that spread across my shoulder, that pulled my eyes to where someone should have been but there was no one. I began to breathe deeply as my exposed arms rose in goose pimples and the hair on my neck stood at attention, accentuating the fear that oozed into my brain, slowly, like the slime of terror pouring over folds of reason, sinking into them, infecting me with a slow realisation that things were not right here.
Fear was forcing my legs to move towards the back room, I felt very little in control of what my body was doing now, I could feel the floor under me, but I could not gauge myself moving over it. Disorientated I was pulled to where I had before perceived a light or a trick of my eye, the back room, hope was fleeing me now, I wasn’t walking there I was being pulled, I so wanted to turn, I wanted to run, but even now I remembered the door would offer no solace, only a barrier for my possible freedom.
>> Anonymous
MOAR CREEPY PASTA COS SLEEP IS A NO GO
>> Anonymous
>>63178620

MOAR OF THIS FUCKING SHIT NOW
>> Anonymous
>>63180636
I wanted to black out, wanted to escape the suffocating feeling, the awful knowledge that as I moved towards the matte black door, the diner around me seemed to pull in, I was sure if I looked behind myself I would see the walls squeezing me towards the door, as though even the building itself was forcing me in this direction and not just the fear that pushed me, gripped me, much like I held a death grip on the radio in my palm.
I reached the door, stopped in front of it, and it seemed to melt away, slide out of view, my peripheral vision was quashed, I could no longer see to my left or right anymore, I could just see the door, the door which was becoming a black tunnel, pitch and starless as I had seen the night just minutes earlier, had it been minutes, the dragging of my limbs towards this place had felt a lot longer now. I became acutely aware then of a noise the radio emitted, high pitched, like a monotone squeal, it forced my eyes to push somewhat closed, the door becoming blurred, I wanted to drop the little brown box but could not, my hands were not mine to command, just as my legs obeyed another master so too did all my limbs. Only my eyes seemed to remain mine alone, however the shrieking forced them closed as I could not shield my ears, there was a slight pain building in the centre of my skull from it, beginning to resonate outwards to my face, an ache behind my eyes that forced them shut now.
>> Anonymous
>>63181571
As my eyes shut then, I felt the ground below me tumble away, yet upright I stayed, my remaining senses told me that there were things whizzing past me at great speed, large things cutting the air with huge whooshes, displacing the air around them and forcing it against me, clammy and sticky, it felt like treacle sliding over my arms and face. I was sure now that I did not want my eyes open, sure now that I did not want to perceive what was happening around me, even now through my eyelids I could see a bombardment of colours and patterns that for some reason caused the terror still rooting in me to push deeper, into the pit of my stomach, the goose pimples about my body and every single hair that garrisoned a pore, it made them stand on end.
Despite all that was going on, I still felt the awful presence draw near me, the oily flesh press against me, the freezing cold breath wash over my face “Your not supposed to be here” It said in a thousand variations of my very own voice, every single word colliding with an altered version of itself, the echoing driving the pain of confusion deep into my mind. I felt a cold, sweaty hand clamp around my wrist and begin to dig its fingers into the skin, pressing into, bypassing the flesh touching against nerves and veins, pressing them onto the bone, the intense pain and overwhelming unfamiliarity of it forcing my mouth open in a silent scream. My eyes snapping open to reveal the staring made eyes of a malformed copy of me, sunken eyes of crimson with a lopsided jaw, protruding upward teeth elongated, almost touching at my own cheek, nose split in two at its middle. As my mind broke, gave up its ghost all I heard were a million different cackles resonating in my skull.
>> Anonymous
>>63181571
Totally original created for you today /b/, hope you enjoyed i haven't written a story in a good while nevermind a horror.
>> Anonymous
>>63182353

FREE BIRD
>> Anonymous
o lawd is dat sum creepy pasta at 6:04 in da mornin?

I am afraid you are late, sir.
>> Anonymous
>>63182468
Tis britfag pasta i have gifted so only late for you, tis reasonable time for writing for me