Current Events > creepypasta thread

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We Danced

Footsteps arent an uncommon thing to hear when youre sitting in a basement, so I think nothing of it when I hear quiet thuds coming from my upstairs hallway. I just assume its my brother, and continue doing whatever pointless little thing I was doing at the time. They go on for another couple minutes, and Im starting to get pissed off. They keep getting louder and louder and I sigh, wondering what the hell my brothers doing this late at night. I sit there, because its impossible to focus with the racket. I mean, it sounds like someones power walking all over my main floor.

I sit there and listen as the thumps get faster and wilder. They just keep moving, almost starting to form a rhythm. They move even faster and get even wilder and theyre thumping all over my main floor. I realize that whatever this is, it cant be human. No human can move like that.

What the fuck?! I finally yell. After that, all the noises stop. Everything is quiet for a moment, and then I hear calm, slow footsteps moving to my basement door. The door is pushed open, and the footsteps stop again. I listen to my breathing for the next three minutes, then sigh, thinking its over. Turns out something else was listening, too. Suddenly I hear it thudding down the stairs, and I knock my chair over in my haste to stand up. I start to run towards the nearest closet, just in time to see a grotesque, hairless, four-legged creature, dancing towards me, tapping its swollen feet in an intoxicating rhythm. I dive into the closet and slam the door shut. Theres a half-second pause and then I hear that same rhythm on the door.

It just keeps going and going with no pause, no rests, no relief. Hes been at it for hours now, and I find myself tapping my fingers along with his song. But then, just as suddenly as it began, it ends. I wait for a few moments, then look out. Hes gone. I flip on a light and fall into a chair. Its safe. I relax and think for a few moments. But then I notice my foot tapping. Maybe this song isnt so bad, I almost like it enough to dance to it. So I drop down on my hands and feet, and I start.

Most creepypastas are just too ridiculous to be taken seriously
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"No..." I whispered. The sign read... Mr. Bone's Wild Ride.
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PanzerElite posted...

Most creepypastas are just too ridiculous to be taken seriously

The SCP website did a really good job when they had peak atmosphere in the Series I & II days. Nowadays everyone's Series IV SCP is a shitty meta tale or Super Keter 9000 Intergalactic Unstoppable 4th Dimensional Threat
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Come Closer

Id actually seen him on our way home from school. He looked dirty and disturbed, and stared straight at us as our bus went by. We even made jokes about him, probably as our way of pretending we werent afraid. He was incredibly out of place in our middle class suburb, so his mere presence felt threatening thus our panic when the three of us got off at our stop and saw him at the corner, about to look in our direction.

He was between us and our houses, and the bus had already pulled away, so we bolted for the bushes of a nearby yard. We werent sure if he had seen us, but we peered through the leaves and saw him stalking our way, muttering randomly. Tim, my neighbor, insisted that hed seen a large knife in the mans ragged clothing. Danny, a kid I hardly knew who had just moved into the neighborhood, insisted that he was imagining it that Tims glasses must have reflected the sun wrong or something. Still, we were terrified, and the sidewalk was going to bring him right by us.

It was Tim that broke and ran first, keeping low. I followed, my heart pounding, as we dove into the darkness underneath the porch of the unfamiliar house wed been hiding near. As we squeezed our bodies against the dirt, the grimy wood pressed into our backs, barely giving us enough room to breathe. From our hiding place, we could see the disturbed man turn into the yard in front of us and begin searching around, hitting the bushes and muttering angrily.

I realized then that Danny wasnt with us, but I hadnt seen where hed gone. Tim had lost his glasses back at the bushes, and he just huddled in the shadows next to me in near-blind terror. We stayed there in silence, waiting. Every so often, whenever I almost thought it was safe to come out, footsteps would creep across the wooden porch above us. Tim almost sneezed, once, but I covered his mouth and nose in stark fear.

We waited there so long that the tone of the sunlight began to change. We hadnt heard the man searching about in awhile, and I was just getting ready to peek out, when footsteps clattered and a thud hit the wood directly above us. A split second later, Dannys face appeared in front of us upside down, and he looked at us through the lattice. A look of shock and surprise crossed his features at finally finding us. He whispered something, but I couldnt hear anything. He seemed to be saying come closer, so I figured the horrible man was still around and we had to be quiet, and I inched forward.

Dannys features grew fearful, and he kept indicating something above us. Strangely, I still couldnt hear him his eyes seemed to dim then, and I inched forward a little bit more. I froze for a moment in horror, then backed up. Tim mouthed to me: What did he say? and I just shook my head, completely in shock. Danny hadnt conveyed come closer, he had mimed hes up there. The drifter was unknowingly sitting right above us, waiting, because he knew we had to be somewhere in that yard.

There was nothing to do but wait in silence, trying not to scream. I was glad Tim had lost his glasses. I lay there as darkness descended, waiting in unwavering terror and trying not to feel the glassy stare of Dannys severed head as it rested in the grass a foot away.

Lightless City

Do you have someone you hate? Someone you would do anything to hurt, pay any price for vengeance? If so, you may want to consider visiting Lightless City.

To get there, go to any decent sized city and find a deserted alleyway at night. Go into it, and close your eyes as tightly as you can. Whisper Lightless City, and concentrate on the darkness. Youve probably noticed that there are faint colors and abstract shapes you can make out if you try to focus your eyes when theyre closed, watch those images go by. After a few minutes, the images should start to get clearer and brighter.

When this happens, theyll start taking on detailed forms, images of violent murders, deformed animals, and similar things. No matter what you see, keep your eyes closed. Youll start to lose track of time, but eventually the images will stop, and youll see pure darkness, nothing but deep black, no colors or shapes. When youre certain that you see pure darkness, open your eyes.

You will now be in a very dark city; there wont be a single light or star in the sky. You should be able to see a faint dark blue outline of the tall buildings surrounding you. Make your way out of the alley, and walk as quietly as you can down the sidewalk, in any direction.

If you hear any movement, RUN, as quickly as you can, away from the noise. There are animals in Lightless City. Its too dark to make out the details, but theyre the size of large, wild felines and will kill any human they catch. Keep moving until you reach an area with smaller buildings, the edge of the city.

A child will approach you, his face dully glowing, letting you see that he is eyeless.

He will ask Will you share your light with me?

Say yes, the child will reach for your face and rip out your right eye. It will be painful, but there shouldnt be any bleeding or open wound. The child will thank you and leave. Keep walking, and a tall man will appear before you.

Whose light do you wish to have taken away?

Speak the name of the person you hate, and as soon as you say their name, they will go completely and irreversibly blind.

Is your hatred satisfied? the man will ask. If it is, say yes, and you will awaken in the alley. If not, say no, and the man will disappear. Keep walking. You will come across another eyeless child.

Will you share your light with me?

Say yes, and your left eye will be torn out, leaving you blind. Keep walking, and the tall man will appear again, although you of course will have to rely on his voice.

Whose life do you wish for the darkness to claim?

Say the name of the one you hate, and they will die. You will not be asked if your hatred is satisfied this time, and you will not be able to return to the alley. I told you to make sure you really hated someone before doing this, you will spend the rest of your life wandering around Lightless City, blind, with only your hatred to keep you warm.

For some people, thats enough.

Knock Knock

The digital clock read 3:15 am. I was lying awake, restless, in my bed. There was nothing I disliked more than a long, dreary, and silent night. I sighed, recalling that the nights prior to this one shared a common dullness. I adjusted the sheets in an attempt to cover my exposed feet from the biting cold that the night brought with it. Everything was pretty mundane, until I heard a knock in my room.

Knock, knock. I turned over to face the window, opposite to the door. Nothing. Knock, knock, it sounded again. It came from the door. Without thinking, I said, Go back to bed Johnny, there are no monsters in your room. I sighed, due to the fact that my younger brother was subject to nightmares.

Knock, knock. At this point, I began to grow infuriated with Johnnys antics. I got up from bed, and sauntered towards Johnnys rooms with gritted teeth. It sounds harsh, but for goodness sake, it was well past 3:00 in the morning and I was trying to get some sleep. I approached his door and pushed it open with a slight creek coming from its hinges. I peeked in the resulting crack, only to find, to my surprise, Johnny still sleeping.

It cant be, I thought to myself, If its not him then who could be knocking on my door? Getting a little scared, I walked back to my room and dragged myself back into bed. I gave the concept some more thought but tiredness took over. As I began to nod off, I heard a rapping on the door, Knock knock. At this point, I broke out into a cold sweat and began to think, What was it that Johnny was so scared of? Monsters?. It couldnt be, there are no such thing as monsters. Knock, knock, the door sounded. This round of knocking was more intense then the rounds before. As the rounds of knocking continued, growing more intense, I hurled up into a ball. I shut my eyes, waiting for the dreaded knocking to cease.

Knock, knock. I was at the verge of tears, praying to whatever was out there to stop the knocking. The knocks grew more consistent, like a heartbeat, like MY heartbeat. The knocking stopped with the onset of this realization. My heart almost gave out in the suspense. There is no such things as monsters, I kept repeating to myself. I tried to psyche myself up to look at the door, but my body wouldnt listen. After five, painfully silent minutes, I slowly brought my head to face the door.

I forced my eyelids open, only to be greeted by a demonic smile with jagged teeth and bloodshot eyes. My heart stopped because at that moment, I realized the knocking wasnt coming from the outside but rather, from inside my very own room.

The Growths

Id had them ever since I was a kid.

I can remember being incredibly self-conscious about them, hiding them in my pockets under books and bags. The kids at school never said anything to my face, but I knew they were laughing behind my back.

I remember asking my parents to take me to the doctor, to get them checked out. The growths on my hands seemed to be the elephant in the room back then, since theyd just say I was fine and change the subject. But I knew better.

I had tried to remove them as a child, but without avail. Scissors, knives, potato peelers; trying to cut or scrape them off was always a lost cause because I couldnt continue once the pain kicked in.

But today was different. Its amazing how numb you can get with a couple of tourniquettes and a bottle of Jack Daniels. I was originally planning to use a sharp knife, but figured that trying to slice through the tough flesh of the growths would be too arduous in my drunken state. I opted for the slightly more technological plan B.

I had to hurry though. I was already pretty light-headed and was starting to feel dizzy. My hands and forearms, nearly blue from the lack of circulation, couldnt wait much longer either. The whirring of the blender helped to put me in a sort of tranceready to do what I had wanted to do since I first looked down at my strange deformities.

I shoved my left hand in first. The immediate sensation of sharp blades slicing through flesh was jarring, but I was surprised at how well the alcohol was workingI expected it to hurt more. I could hear the sharp metal churning and cutting, working perfectly as planned. I pressed my hand down harder. All those bad memories, all of the embarrasmentall of those horrible things were now nothing more than a thick red pulp.

Breaking from the feelings of ectsasy, I pulled out before the blades hit knuckle. I smiled, taking a good look at my new hand. As for the growthswell, five down, and five to go.

In The Mirror

Normally you sleep soundly, but the thunderstorm raging outside is stirring you from your sleep. You begin to doze, then another crash jolts you awake. The cycle lasts most of the night. So you lay there, eyes open and outward, looking at your room stretching out before you in oblong shadows. Your eyes move from nameless object, to object, until you reach your mirror, sitting adjacent to you across the room.

Suddenly a flash of lighting, and the mirror flickers in illumination. For a scant second the mirror revels to you dozens of faces, silhouettes within its frame, mouths open and eyes blackened. They stare out at you, their black pupils fixed upon your face.

Then it is done. Are you sure of what you have seen? Unsettled, you dont sleep for the rest of the evening. The next morning you remove the mirror from your wall and toss it in the trash. It didnt matter if the vision you had seen was of truth or falsehood, you wanted to be rid of that mirror. In fact, you scrap every mirror in your house.

Weeks pass and the event of that night falls into passive memory. You are spending the day at a friends house and its time to use the bathroom. While you are in there the faucet starts to run without you prompting it. Taken aback by this, you do not yet act, trying to reason with your paranoia in your mind. The water starts to steam and a skin of moisture covers the mirror up above. Youre watching intently as words form:

Please return the mirrors. We miss watching you sleep at night.

Doe posted...

PanzerElite posted...

Most creepypastas are just too ridiculous to be taken seriously

The SCP website did a really good job when they had peak atmosphere in the Series I & II days. Nowadays everyone's Series IV SCP is a shitty meta tale or Super Keter 9000 Intergalactic Unstoppable 4th Dimensional Threat

For me, SCP was better back when it was imaginative, cool creatures or items or other random paranormal phenomenon. Now whenever someone mentions SCP, they always mention it with regards that it HAS to be creepy stories and stuff. And it doesn't have to be! At least, it wasn't back in the day. I swear, I even think some of the earlier entries have been overwritten with completely different stuff focusing on a "creepy story" aspect.
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Kisai posted...

For me, SCP was better back when it was imaginative, cool creatures or items or other random paranormal phenomenon. Now whenever someone mentions SCP, they always mention it with regards that it HAS to be creepy stories and stuff. And it doesn't have to be! At least, it wasn't back in the day. I swear, I even think some of the earlier entries have been overwritten with completely different stuff focusing on a "creepy story" aspect.

Recently the plaguemask guy got rewritten for him to be 'more human/complex' instead of the weird guy he used to be

Also yeah the non-scary articles were very interesting and added to the legitimacy and atmosphere of the website, complementing scary articles. Now all anyone cares is about is like the super well known ones or writing some new form of existential horror
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Ability

I live in Osaka, Japan and often use the subway to go to work in the morning. One day, when I was waiting for the train, I noticed a homeless man standing in a corner of the subway station, muttering to himself as people passed by. He was holding out a cup and seemed to be begging for spare change.

A fat woman passed by the homeless man and I distinctly heard him say, Pig.

Wow, I thought to myself. This homeless man is insulting people and he still expects them to give him money?

Then a tall businessman went by and the homeless guy muttered, Human.

Human? I cant argue with that. Obviously, he was human.

The next day, I arrived early at the subway station and had some time to kill, so I decided to stand close to the homeless man and listen to his strange mutterings.

A thin, haggard-looking man passed in front of him and I heard the homeless guy mutter, Cow.

Cow? I thought. The man was much too skinny to be a cow. He looked more like a turkey or a chicken to me.

A minute or so later, a fat man went by and the homeless man said, Potato.

Potato? I was under the impression that he called all fat people Pig.

That day, at work, I couldnt stop thinking about the homeless man and his puzzling behavior. I kept trying to find some logic or pattern in what he was muttering.

Perhaps he has some kind of psychic ability, I thought. Maybe he knows what these people were in a previous life. In Japan, many people believe in reincarnation.

I observed the homeless man many times and began to think my theory was right. I often heard him calling people things like Rabbit or Onion or Sheep or Tomato.

One day, curiosity got the better of me and I decided to ask him what was going on.

As I walked up to him, he looked at me and said Bread.

I tossed some money into his cup and asked him if he had some kind of psychic ability.

The homeless man smiled and said, Yes, indeed. I do have a psychic ability. It is an ability I obtained years ago. But it is not what you might expect. I cant tell the future or read minds or anything like that.

Then what is your ability? I asked eagerly.

The ability is merely to know the last thing somebody ate, he said.

I laughed because I realized he was right. He said Bread. The last thing I had eaten for breakfast that day was toast. I walked away shaking my head. Of all the psychic abilities someone could have, that one must be the most useless.
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^ pretty good
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Kanaya413 posted...

^ pretty good

Yeah, it's one of my favorites.
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