Creepypasta Index

“…Victims of these horrific crimes were reported to have their limbs either extremely mutilated or completely sawed off. He or she is targeting only women so far. The culprit still has not been caught and is still on the rampage…”

I flipped my TV set off and slumped down in my bed. I rolled over to check my clock. “Man… 3:29 and still not a wink of sleep…” I mumbled, sliding down in bed and staring at the wall. This was the fourth night of insomnia I had suffered. I could not sleep whatsoever. I tried everything – counting sheep, relaxing my body – you name it, I had tried it. Nothing seemed to work.

I would only doze off maybe once, and it was only for about 10 or 15 minutes. When I did sleep, however, I began to have very ominous dreams. It was the same each time. I would be standing in a blank, wide room. The only thing in sight was this girl. She was young, only 7 or 8. Her hair covered her face. She kept mumbling the same message over and over, “I have to be perfect… I have to be beautiful… make Mommy happy…”

I had no idea what those creepy dreams were about, but they were only dreams, figments of my imagination. Nothing to get worked up over, but they sure didn’t help me sleep any better. I couldn’t run like this for much longer, surviving days by sucking down 1 or 2 cappuccinos before work. It didn’t help a bit that I had to work the dayshift, starting at 8 AM.

I worked at a small café in town as a waitress. You know, nothing special; just your average little burger joint. It never made big money except on holiday weekends. We made enough to get by. I came into work at 8 AM and worked until 4 PM. Days weren’t too long and work wasn’t too rough. We’d have maybe 30 customers stop by every day, so days seemed very slow.

After a long day of work, I clocked out at 4:10 and…

I read a book as a child. I summed it up and added a few details.
———————————————————————

“Mr. Weston the doctor will see you now.” The nurse hung up the intercom.

Even though Sam was really nervous, he started to laugh at the fact that the lady called him Mister. That was his Dad’s name.

It was October 31, 1973, and 9 year old Sam Weston was in the hospital, about to go into surgery. He had to have his tonsils removed.

He followed his parents to the doctor’s office in the back of the hospital.

“Alright son.” said the Doctor. “Whoops, my mistake. I was told a 9 year old named Sam was coming here for surgery. You’re as big as I am.”

Sam laughed. “I’m only nine!” He thought it was hilarious that the entire hospital thought he was an adult.

The doctor checked his clipboard. “Hah! Tonsil surgery? Is that what your parents said you were scared of? Let me tell you something Mr. Weston, tonsil surgery is not scary at all. It won’t hurt but just for a second. Have you ever fallen on your knees?” Sam nods. “Well it’s about as painful as that. I had my tonsils removed when I was your age. Nothing to be scared of.”

Sam felt a little bit better.

“Uh oh. Looks like we have some news. We don’t have the tools for your special case. We traded them in for some new and improved tools, but they have yet to arrive. What we are going to have to do is keep Sam here over night, and get some equipment from the hospital in Memphis. When they arrive, we will do the surgery. He’ll probably be asleep when it happens, so that means no pain.”

Sam sat quietly while his parents sorted out all the details. They checked Sam into his room and left to the waiting room, where they would stay until Sam’s surgery.

The nurse helped Sam into his bed, and got him a juice. He looked over to the right and saw another little boy. “Hi I’m Sam. But you can call me Sammy.”…

As the dead of winter approaches, you may find yourself alone at night, feeling isolated and abandoned in an all-too-empty bed as the night grows ever bleaker. Ghastly shadows, dancing across the wall. The crying wind battering against your window. An ambulance siren in the distance. And there’s no one there to convince you that you didn’t hear those gunshots. There’s no one there. No one there.

But do not be afraid. He waits for you.

Wait for the moon to hide itself, perhaps behind a gathering of clouds. Midnight is the best time to do this. Just close your eyes and hold your breath as you leave your bed. You may open your eyes once you exit your bedroom. Get dressed if you like, because you’ll be leaving your house soon. Take nothing with you, except for what you can keep in your pockets. Then, drive out of town. Drive as far away from civilization as you possibly can. Eventually, the air will become still. Then a dense fog will form just a short way down the road. You will hear nothing but silence as you approach it. Let it consume you and your vehicle. No harm will come to you from it. I promise.

Do not be afraid. He waits for you.

The fog will lift. You will see a dimly-lit motel, stranded and alone in the night. Just like you. As you walk inside, notice that there is no one else there. The only sign of human inhabitance will be a small key on the front desk. Take these keys. Wander the corridors until you find the proper room. You will soon know exactly where it is. But you won’t know why. Use your key to enter this room. Walk in, and lie down in the bed.

It’s no more comforting than your bed at home. There’s nothing but pure silence for miles. Death hangs in the air all around you. And it’s so cold. You’re still alone. And frightened. But it’s okay. He’s frightened, too. And it’s just so cold. Cold enough to hold the pillow close to your body,…

I was 15 years old during the weekend in June when everything would change. My mum had decided to skip town to visit her distant family, as she felt that she had earned a break. Nothing unusual about the decision to just up and leave as she often goes to visit ‘the other side’ as she called it. She’d either visit her parents – a part of the family that I actually enjoy seeing – who occupy a modest cottage up in the hills of some English countryside; or if she was feeling tolerant, she would make the lengthy trip to see her annoying, yuppie cousins, living it up in their seemingly never-ending Spanish property – that’s where she was going this time. I never felt the need to put myself through listening to their constant, loud-mouthed whining of their quest for importance; but given the choice now, I would have sat through a week of their intolerable rambling if I could have known what that weekend had planned for me.

I was awakened by my mum on the Friday morning, and as usual, she’d gotten me the day off school. I was told that she’d be back on Monday morning, just in time to make sure that I’d gone back to school to reassure my teachers that it was nothing more than a three day stomach bug. I carried her bags to the car, gave her a kiss on the cheek, waved her goodbye, and just like that, she was gone. I wandered into the kitchen to make my breakfast, all the while thinking how excited I’d gotten the first time my mum had trusted me to stay at home on my own. It was different now, nearing trivial. Almost the entirety of that first day consisted of me lazing about. I listened to my music, played some games, watched a movie, all of the usual things a bored teenager would do. Then I fell asleep. After what I think was about 2 hours of sleep, I was awoken in the evening by a knock.

I arose from…

02-10-2012

This story began about five days ago but I’ve only now just got round to writing it down. I’ll take my time to make sure I share everything with you and the fact that this whole ordeal hasn’t once left my mind makes me feel certain that I won’t miss any details. It’s going to be a very long story, maybe too long for some people; but I just need some sort of explanation to keep me from feeling insane. I’m hoping that if I write it all down, maybe I or someone else can make some sense of it – as little as there may be.

Well I suppose this story actually began 48 years ago and the only reason I know anything about it is because of my Grandad. From the 60′s up until the late 80′s, my Grandad used to work on the ships as a deckhand. He worked on many different ships under the wing of many different captains, and so the sea – being the exciting place that it is – left him with hundreds of stories to tell. When I was a young boy, I would continuously ask him to tell me these stories – even the ones I had already heard. Some of them were gruesome, some of them were funny, there was even a few sad tales; but only one of them was genuinely scary. I remember almost all of the stories that he’d share with me but I think it’s obvious which one stood out the most.

My Grandad was 23 in 1964 and he’d just been drafted onto a ship that was delivering cargo to countries in South America. It was no different than the other two ships that he’d previously worked on, except maybe it was bit bigger. I won’t give the real name of the ship, but for future reference, we will call it The CWS. My Grandad began the story by explaining to me just how strange the captain of the ship was; how he was a lot happier and friendlier than other captains he’d worked with, but…

Back in February of 2008, I decided that I needed a change in my monotonous life. Whether that change would come in the form of a new job or a new toothbrush, I didn’t know. I was never the most adventurous person, I’ve always found it difficult to veer away from my comfort zone and the limit of my existence usually depended upon which book I was reading at the time. It took me a while to realise that my happiness often derived from the stories that my mind was living in; I was an avid bookworm – as miserable a synecdoche as that is.

Once I realised my true outlet, I immediately knew what I wanted. I purchased a small shop, quit my boring job, renovated the building and transformed it into a bookstore – I had never been happier. The next two years were the best of my life; the store had become a huge hit with the locals, my perspective on work had been completely altered and I was feeling genuinely happy for the first time since my childhood.

It was during the winter of 2010 that she walked into my store. She stepped inside out of the snow and approached me with a large bin-bag. Etchings of age covered her pale face and hands – she must have been at least 80 years old. Slamming the bag on the counter, she simply said:

“These are for you.”

I looked inside the bag to find a selection of some of the greatest novels ever written.

“Why? Do you want money for these or some kind of book trade?” I asked confusingly.

“No, they’re yours to have. Take them.”

She gave me a feeling of uneasiness. Her dirty grey fringe slightly concealed her face as a cold gaze met my vision.

“Are you sure you want me to have them, wouldn’t you rather sell them?”

“No. I have no use for them, nor for money.”

“Okay… thank you. What’s your name?”

“Lucy.”

She muttered her final words and left my store.

I found it all too strange that somebody would give away such great books for…

When I was 12 years old, my parents finally decided to split me and my younger brother up and give us our own rooms. I was a couple of years older than Alex so I got the bigger space, while he stayed in the box-room. My dad wasn’t too happy about having to move all of his junk down into the garage, but times change and I needed a room for myself.

The four of us lived in a bungalow on a quiet suburban street – a rather reclusive area. Me and Alex would get bored sometimes as there wasn’t much to do, but for the most part, all we needed was each other. Being two young boys with no one else to play with in such a huge neighbourhood, we were as close as two brothers could be.

One day after school, we arrived home to find that all of my belongings had been moved into the the room next to Alex’s. I didn’t expect to feel sad about it at the time, but deep down I knew that sharing a room gave us a stronger bond. After the realisation that we could no longer talk to each other at night, we had to come up with a plan. I devised a childish kind of morse code – a series of taps and scratches that we’d relay to each other on the wall behind our beds. I knew that this way, we wouldn’t get caught talking in the hallway or become bored during the night. After about three months, we had become experts at our secret talking and had managed to learn just over a hundred words. In our few months of doing this, there was one night in particular that stood out amongst the rest.

In the early hours of the morning, I was awoken by the familiar taps and scratches – this was confusing because Alex had never woken me up like this before. I sat up and listened intently to the words etched into the wall. It was vicious; it didn’t sound like Alex and some of…

Mary wasn’t one to complain
but on this morning there was gloom and rain.
Her head ached and stomach cramped,
But the harder that she fought the pain
The harder down did pour the rain.

So off to work, dear Mary went
Body sore and temper bent.
Though she should have stayed at home
and let her coworkers be alone.
But dear sweet Mary couldn’t bare
the thoughts deep growing beneath her hair.

She exclaimed at once upon arrival,
“I’m in a bitchy mood, best stay away for your survival.”
So stay away her colleagues tried,
but even louder, dear Mary cried.

“Perhaps you’re hungry”, suggested a friend.
But alas, this couldn’t make the miserable Mary grin.
She groaned and grumbled all through the hours,
all the while abusing her powers.

“Please eat something, you might feel better”
“Try a piece of this Unexpected cheddar.”

And to Mary’s hand, the cheese was extended
And to everyone’s pleasure a smile was how it ended.
But not in the manner than you’ve likely pondered,
because upon digestion Mary’s soul soon wandered.

Her head and hands became cold and sweaty.
Death’s boney hand reached out at the ready.
It did not take long before Mary realized
from where it was this cheese earned it’s name.

Twas not the taste that earned it’s title,
nor the smell or texture, but what laid idle.
Deep within this cheddar’s loins,
was poison bought by grim death’s coins.

Mary choked and gasped and wailed,
but to her side no helping soul sailed.
She hurled over, winced and fell to the ground,
and still around her was no sound,
of a single fuck being given out,
for all were tired of her flapping snout.

Soon she lay lifeless and still,
and with feelings of relief the room did fill.
So learn this lesson here and now,
keep your bithcy comments to yourself, no matter how.
Because if you don’t some day you may find,
a present waiting, with just you in mind.

Someone will give you the unexpected cheddar,
shortly after you may find yourself feeling deader.
Never knowing that all the while,
your “friends” surrounding will simply watch and smile.

And that’s how it ends.

I know you’re not going to believe me, but I’ve decided that I don’t care at this point. I need to get this out. Whether you believe me or not, this has to get out.

It started a few months ago. I was in my kitchen doing the dishes when I first saw it. There’s a window directly in front of the sink, so it wasn’t like I was bending backwards to see out the dining room window. I just saw a flash of movement. That was it. A shadow bounding over the fence that goes from my yard into my neighbors. It didn’t freak me out. It was a normal thing. So I just went about my business and continued washing the dishes.

After doing up the few dishes in the kitchen, I decided I would go to bed for the night. It was rather late and I had to work in the morning. So I folded the dish cloth and put it over the faucet on the sink and slunk off to bed. While going up the stairs, I realized something was a little odd. You see, I have a dog. He normally sleeps outside, although I had tried several times to make him an inside dog, he simply wouldn’t go for it. And he absolutely hates cats, so he’s constantly barking and nothing I do can get him to shut up. But I realized he wasn’t barking at all.

I shrugged it off and decided the neighbors probably got rid of their cat and with that thought I headed off to bed. The next morning, I had gotten up and taken a shower as was the usual routine, and after making coffee and and breakfast I noticed that Grover, my dog, wasn’t making a noise at all. I walked outside to check on him and immediately wished that I hadn’t.

Near Grover’s dog house, was his body. You would have thought he was sleeping by the way he was positioned, aside from the blood smeared over his light brown coat. Lying on the back…

The night was dark. The only light emitted into the tiny bedroom was from the door that stood slightly ajar. The room was clean for a four year old little boy. There weren’t any toys covering the floor and no clothes thrown about the room.

The little boy slept soundly; light snores could be heard coming deep from within his chest. His arm twitched fervently, but became still after a few seconds. The sound of his breathing rang out across the silent room.

Seeing the child deep in his slumber, the tiny little man clambered out from under the boy’s bed. He was a short fellow with a quirky mustache set above his crooked lips. His eyes, which were enlarged, set close to his forehead. He had no nose, but his ears made up for that. On top of his head, sat a velvet black top hat with fifteen little red cards sticking out of the band wrapped around it. He stood up on the haunches of his feet and stretched his tiny body out, a sigh leaving his parched lips.

The little boy stirred, but didn’t wake. The tiny man giggled lightly and stepped back from the bed a bit. His eyes glanced around the small room, but slid back onto the little boy after mere seconds. He smiled a crooked smile and allowed his fingers to glide across the soft down comforter. The boy’s eyes jerked open at that motion and he nearly screamed if not for the calming manner of the man standing before him.

“H-hello. What’s y-your name?” the little boy stuttered out, gazing at the awkward little man.

The man merely smiled and clutched at his hat. “My name is Hat Man Williams, but you can call me Hat Man,” he paused a second and the boy continued to stare at him in wonder. “I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name, my dear boy?”

“My name’s Jake. We just moved here.”

Hat Man smiled crookedly and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Ah, that would explain why I’ve never seen the likes of you before.” His mouth twitched a…