Creepypasta Index

Jeff abruptly awoke from his sleep; it was the Carnival dream once more. He groaned a loud groan; his head was swimming as he tried to make out his surroundings. He had awoken to a loud voice, but did not know where it came from. He felt himself get hit in the face by some sort of object; he bolted upwards to see his attacker. He saw a short grey haired old woman in an apron standing above him, her hands to her hips, in one of her hands she grasped a crumpled up newspaper. He realized that he had been using the computer too long at his local Café again, the computer displaying an article about the mysterious killings going on in the town. Jeff…Jeff the killer, that’s who he was. He laughed aloud, a cold, low laugh. He could tell that the woman above him realized who he was, and looked appalled. He quickly issued a knife from his dark grey sweatshirt pocket, and put it to the woman with a deranged smile. In a calming angelic-like voice, he pulled close to the woman saying “Go to sleep.”

The screams in the Café were now behind Jeff as he walked home in the rain, his hood over his head, hands in his sweatshirt pockets. It was a grey, cloudy day, about 6:00 in the evening. “It’s getting dark,” Jeff thought. Looking downwards, but knowing where he was going, he heard police sirens wail past him toward the stricken place he had left, he smirked. “Another mysterious case of murder brought to you by Jeff”, He thought. He chuckled to himself at the thought. The rain began to get heavier, and thunder and lightning began to echo and light up the newly incepted evening. Jeff, even with his insanity, didn’t like to be out in the rain, nor thunder. Hands still in his pockets, he jogged a short few blocks in the small town before he found the street that led to his old house…the house that all of this started at.

“Northbound Ave.” was pasted on a small green…

Some of you may have heard that the Disney corporation is responsible for at least one real, “live” Ghost Town.

Disney built the “Treasure Island” resort in Baker’s Bay in the Bahamas. It didn’t START as a ghost town! Disney’s cruise ships would actually stop at the resort and leave tourists there to relax in luxury.

This is a FACT. Look it up.

Disney blew $30,000,000 on the place… yes, Thirty Million Dollars.

Then they abandoned it.

Disney blamed the shallow waters (too shallow for their ships to safely operate) and there was even blame cast on the workers, saying that since they were from the Bahamas, they were too lazy to work a regular schedule.

That’s where the factual nature of their story ends. It wasn’t because of sand, and it obviously wasn’t because “foreigners are lazy”. Both are convenient excuses.

No, I sincerely doubt those reasons were legitimate. Why don’t I buy the official story?

Because of Mowgli’s Palace.

Near the beachside city of Emerald Isle in North Carolina, Disney began construction of “Mowgli’s Palace” in the late 1990s. The concept was a Jungle-themed resort with a large, you guessed it, PALACE in the center of the whole thing.

If you’re unfamiliar with the character of Mowgli, then you might better remember the story “The Jungle Book”. If you haven’t seen it anywhere else, you’d know it as the Disney cartoon from decades past.

Mowgli is an abandoned child, in the jungle, essentially raised by animals and simultaneously threatened/pursued by other animals.

Mowgli’s Palace was a controversial undertaking from the start. Disney bought up a ton of high-priced land for the project, and there was actually a scandal surrounding some of the purchases. The local Government claimed “eminent domain” on people’s homes, then turned around and sold the properties to Disney. At one point a home that had just been constructed was immediately condemned with little to no explanation.

The land grabbed by the Government was supposedly for some fictional highway project. Knowing full well what was going on, people started calling it “Mickey Mouse Highway”.

Then there was the concept art. A group of stuffed shirts from Disney Co. actually…

One

There were originally nine of us scheduled for the spelunking expedition, but Murphy’s Law dictated that two of the group had to pull out due to various issues. It was a disappointment having fewer members to share in the experience, but then again, there were benefits – less logistical problems, more space and so on. I, personally, wasn’t that affected by it; while most of us were close friends, I hadn’t known those two well.

Our rendezvous was the cave entrance, at the crack of dawn. I was the first one there, as usual; those who knew me often remarked at my attention to punctuality. Slowly, the rest of the group arrived, parking their cars and unloading the equipment that we had organised between us. As the expedition leader, I had the emergency provisions on me – first aid kit, flare gun, GPS locator. It seemed quite odd that a flare gun would be taken into an underground location, but I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.

We assembled at the cave entrance. There was Jason, Alex, Karen, Samantha, Vincent, Ashley and, of course, myself. Alex and I were experienced spelunkers, while the rest had varying skill levels: moderate (Karen, Vincent and Samantha), poor (Jason) and a first-timer (Ashley). Normally it was against my instinct to take a first-timer into an unexplored cave and in such a large group, but he had promised to obey every command I gave him and had agreed to carry the most cumbersome equipment on the safe parts of the trek.

The cave loomed in front of us. It was typically dark and rather foreboding. Not for the first time, I wondered why it was, according to every available record of local geological sites, unexplored. Perhaps it was the isolated location, or the fact that until recently, there had been no way for vehicles to access it through the surrounding forest. “Are you sure it’s alright?” Ashley nervously asked, shifting from foot to foot. His earlier bravado had deserted him. “Yes. You can’t change your mind once we’re in,…

The events took place in a city called Rosenheim in southern Bavaria, more specifically in the office of lawyer Sigmund Adam. Starting in 1967 strange phenomena began in the office – the lights would turn on and off again, the phones were ringing without anyone apparently calling, (a silent caller), photocopiers spilled their copier fluid, desk drawers would open without being touched. The deutsche post installed instruments that recorded numerous phone calls that were never made. Within 5 weeks the instruments recorded over 600 calls to the speaking clock (number 0119
In Germany) even though al the phones in the office were disabled and only Adam himself had the key required to enable them. In one 15 minute period the speaking clock had been called 46 times. And on October, 1967, all the light bulbs went out with a bang and a very loud unearthly shriek was heard.

I assure you, this is NOT FAKE.
The police, the electric company, and others were trying to find an explanation for this paranormal activity for weeks but found no useful explanation. A team of scientists, including the renowned parapsychologist Hans Bender and 2 Max Planck institute physicists began investigating the case. After installing cameras and voice recorders they were able to discover the infestations only happened only when 19 year old Annemarie Schneider (a recently employed secretary) was present. Bender was also able to document on video how the lights would flicker every time she entered the office. It was claimed that a lamp shade would swing violently when Ms Schneider walked beneath it.
After questioning her, they discovered that she had just suffered some personal relationship trauma . It had been noted that she suffers from non specific neuroses. When she went in holiday, no more strange occurances happened, she was dismissed from her job as the occurrences happened again when sge came back.

“…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 have always believed in the supernatural. I had never experienced ghosts until I was 5 years-old. This is the terrifying story. Warning: THIS IS TRUE!!!
It was late at night when it happened. My room was directly across from my living room where my television set is. Under it is our cable box which has a glowing blue light upon it. It had been a normal night. I suddenly woke up from a dead sleep. My instinct was to look at the door.
I had closed it before I went to sleep but now it was open. I saw the light and was filled with terror. For not something had walked in front of it. Not something solid, but sort of a human-shaped mist or haze. It just stood there. Watching me.
It must have sensed my fear because it started moving towards me. Slowly inching towards me. Taunting me with each step. I was by now paralyzed with fright. Holding my breath and becoming more and more tense with each maniacal step.
It walked in front of my night light and it became dim. I could make out the shape of a face but no features. I slank under my sheets and felt it bend down, only inches away from my face. Its breath was ice cold. Thats all I remember before I woke up on the other side of the house.

( This isnt from a website. It actually happened to me!)

House of Dread V 0.2
I must keep my eyes closed… for he is there… waiting for me to open up from my slumber and end my life.
January 1, 1968
My parents moved away from the old house, leaving me behind at the old house. However I did choose to stay there… It felt like I belong and I needed to stay there or else I would go insane.
January 2, 1968
The first night alone I heard these weird noises that I thought were rats scratching the walls. But then I heard the screams… I told my doctor but he just said “Are you feeling well?” and gave me some medicine.
January 3, 1968
With that I decided to place a recorder on the pedestal beside my bed and record any noises. At first it was the usual, but then it sounded as if the door was opening. Like someone was infiltrating my room. I showed my doctor this and he said he heard nothing… apparently he just heard “wind”.
January 4, 1968
Last night I used a camera… what I saw was… it opened the door and just stared at me with crimson red eyes… it had abnormally large hands and bent back feet. And then it said whispering “Good-Night”…. Of course the doctor said he saw nothing.
January 5, 1968
Everything is beginning to rust up and all the doors leading out are rusted shut… It’s weird how this could all happen in one day…
January 13, 1968
He is starting to appear during the day now… and I have to hide when he does… he just keeps repeating “Good-Night”
Unknown Date
I do know it’s been a couple days but I can’t really tell as the windows are completely impossible to look through… my cell phone and all electronic devices are dead… and my food is gone.
Unknown Date
I’ve had to start…

As I walk to my bedroom. There is a peculiar smell… Of copper… Yes. Copper… I open my door, and sit down on my bed. There’s something itching at my mind. A sound, a soft sound. A very, very soft sound. I stare at my closet door. Something is different. Very different, something unusual, something that will make me lose my sanity… Very… Slowly… But it’ll happen…

I walk over to my closet, I grab the handle cautiously, I then swing open the door quickly. But despite what I thought what I thought, nothing is different. I have my tools, my knives, my cloths, my bottles, and my rope. I slam the door so hard it cracks down the middle.
“Another crack,” I utter
I take a look at my watch. 7:13 P.M.
I know this Journal is skipping around, dancing, tapping. But whatever is itching my mind, is driving me out of my sanity.
I fall onto the ground, dizzy. I start tapping the floor.
I get myself up and rush to the bathroom. I grab the bleach out of the cupboard and run it through my hair.
It burns, badly, but it will subside after what I will do.
Putting on my blush, my mascara, eyeshadow. But this time, I make sure I apply extra.
My white straight hair, is so… Perfect… I look at myself in the mirror, and grin, I know it’s there. It must, and has, to be there.

I go back into my bedroom and grab my purse, I put a good size knife in it out of the closet, and get a backpack, I put the rope, and rags, and bottles in there.
I grab my mask, a white mask, shaped to my face, perfect… To my face… I slip that in my purse too.

I go outside and get in my jet black Audi R8
I drive to the downtown park… I check my watch, 7:13 PM
Everything, is according to plan. I sit on the park bench, waiting, tapping my fingers on the wood of the bench. I see a car pull…

House of Dread
I must keep my eyes closed… for he is there… waiting for me to open up from my slumber and end my life.
January 1, 1968
My parents moved away from the old house, leaving me behind at the old house. However I did choose to stay there… It felt like I belong and I needed to stay there or else I would go insane.
January 2, 1968
The first night alone I heard this weird noises that I thought were rats scratching the walls. But then I heard the screams… I told my doctor but he just said \”Are you feeling well?\” and gave me some medicine.
January 3, 1968
With that I decided to place a recorder on the pedestal beside my bed and record any noises. At first it was the usual, but then it sounded as if the door was opening. Like someone was infiltrating my room. I showed my doctor this and he said he heard nothing said he just heard \”wind\”.
January 4, 1968
Last night I used a camera… what I saw was… it opened the door and just stared at me with crimson red eyes… it had abnormally large hands and bent back feet. And then it said whispering \”Good-Night\”…. Of course the doctor said he saw nothing.
January 5, 1968
Everything is beginning to rust up and all the doors leading out are rusted shut… It\’s weird how this could all happen in one day…
January 13, 1968
He is starting to appear during the day now… and I have to hide when he does… he just keeps repeating \”Good-Night\”
Unknown Date
I do know it\’s been a couple days but I can\’t really tell as the windows are completely impossible to look through… my cell phone and all electronic devices are dead… and my food is gone.
Unknown Date
I\’ve had to start eating my…

While it is known by some that I have a keen interest in the uncanny – seeking it out on occasion – nevertheless it proved a decidedly unsettling experience to find such a strange event taking place just a few feet from my front door.

The street that I lived on at the time was like any other, not an affluent place, nor one mired in poverty; a mix of kind, selfish, and apathetic neighbours, some taking interest in those around them, others not. It was a relatively quiet area but I had a fondness for it, as the large birch trees – which occasionally drooped over hedges and fences from both cared for and neglected lawns – reminded me of my childhood. Despite being just a few minutes from a busy motorway, only the occasional car came plodding through to disturb the peace – joined at times by sporadic domestic arguments which resonated from home to house, unhindered by the quiet – and so children played outside in the summer sun, some more pleasantly than others. I would have to describe the street from top to bottom as quite, quite, ordinary. I’m sure you can imagine then how shocked I was to find what I did surrounded by the mundane.

I should correct myself here, it was not what I found, but rather what my neighbour initially discovered. His name was Bill and he had moved in to the house next door only a few months previous, nevertheless in that short time we had grown to be firm friends; neighbourhood barbecues, Friday nights at the local pub, a shared fondness for classic films – we got on well.

One Saturday night I invited Bill over for a game of cards with a few of my colleagues. I’ve never been particularly brilliant at poker, but I’ve always enjoyed the well intended banter produced when placing bets against a good crowd. That night, neither luck nor skill was on my side and I found myself out of the game fairly quickly, so I sat back, had a few drinks, and just enjoyed the…