CreepyPasta

[The DarkSlayer]

Creepypasta is a short story that is posted on the internet that is designed to unnerve and shock the reader. 

Just wanted to share some of my favorites, gives me goosebumps everytime.

 
[spoiler=Candle Cove]

NetNostalgia Forum – Television (local)
 
Skyshale033
Subject: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
Does anyone remember this kid’s show? It was called Candle Cove and I must have been 6 or 7. I never found reference to it anywhere so I think it was on a local station around 1971 or 1972. I lived in Ironton at the time. I don’t remember which station, but I do remember it was on at a weird time, like 4:00 PM.
 
mike_painter65
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
it seems really familiar to me…..i grew up outside of ashland and was 9 yrs old in 72. candle cove…was it about pirates? i remember a pirate marionete at the mouth of a cave talking to a little girl
 
Skyshale033
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
YES! Okay I’m not crazy! I remember Pirate Percy. I was always kind of scared of him. He looked like he was built from parts of other dolls, real low-budget. His head was an old porcelain baby doll, looked like an antique that didn’t belong on the body. I don’t remember what station this was! I don’t think it was WTSF though.
 
Jaren_2005
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
Sorry to ressurect this old thread but I know exactly what show you mean, Skyshale. I think Candle Cove ran for only a couple months in ‘71, not ‘72. I was 12 and I watched it a few times with my brother. It was channel 58, whatever station that was. My mom would let me switch to it after the news. Let me see what I remember.
It took place in Candle cove, and it was about a little girl who imagined herself to be friends with pirates. The pirate ship was called the Laughingstock, and Pirate Percy wasn’t a very good pirate because he got scared too easily. And there was calliope music constantly playing. Don’t remember the girl’s name. Janice or Jade or something. Think it was Janice.
 
Skyshale033
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
Thank you Jaren!!! Memories flooded back when you mentioned the Laughingstock and channel 58. I remember the bow of the ship was a wooden smiling face, with the lower jaw submerged. It looked like it was swallowing the sea and it had that awful Ed Wynn voice and laugh. I especially remember how jarring it was when they switched from the wooden/plastic model, to the foam puppet version of the head that talked.
 
mike_painter65
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
ha ha i remember now too.  do you remember this part skyshale: “you have…to go…INSIDE.”
Skyshale033
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
Ugh mike, I got a chill reading that. Yes I remember. That’s what the ship always told Percy when there was a spooky place he had to go in, like a cave or a dark room where the treasure was. And the camera would push in on Laughingstock’s face with each pause. YOU HAVE… TO GO… INSIDE. With his two eyes askew and that flopping foam jaw and the fishing line that opened and closed it. Ugh. It just looked so cheap and awful.
You guys remember the villain? He had a face that was just a handlebar mustache above really tall, narrow teeth.
 

 

kevin_hart
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
i honestly, honestly thought the villain was pirate percy. i was about 5 when this show was on. nightmare fuel.
 
Jaren_2005
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
That wasn’t the villain, the puppet with the mustache. That was the villain’s sidekick, Horace Horrible. He had a monocle too, but it was on top of the mustache. I used to think that meant he had only one eye.
But yeah, the villain was another marionette. The Skin-Taker. I can’t believe what they let us watch back then.
kevin_hart
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
jesus h. christ, the skin taker. what kind of a kids show were we watching? i seriously could not look at the screen when the skin taker showed up. he just descended out of nowhere on his strings, just a dirty skeleton wearing that brown top hat and cape. and his glass eyes that were too big for his skull. christ almighty.
 
Skyshale033
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
Wasn’t his top hat and cloak all sewn up crazily? Was that supposed to be children’s skin??
 
mike_painter65
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
yeah i think so. rememer his mouth didn’t open and close, his jaw just slid back and foth. i remember the little girl said “why does your mouth move like that” and the skin-taker didn’t look at the girl but at the camera and said “TO GRIND YOUR
SKIN”
 
Skyshale033
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
I’m so relieved that other people remember this terrible show!
I used to have this awful memory, a bad dream I had where the opening jingle ended, the show faded in from black, and all the characters were there, but the camera was just cutting to each of their faces, and they were just screaming, and the puppets and marionettes were flailing spastically, and just all screaming, screaming. The girl was just moaning and crying like she had been through hours of this. I woke up many times from that nightmare. I used to wet the bed when I had it.
 
kevin_hart
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
i don’t think that was a dream. i remember that. i remember that was an episode.
 
Skyshale033
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
No no no, not possible. There was no plot or anything, I mean literally just standing in place crying and screaming for the whole show.
 
kevin_hart
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
maybe i’m manufacturing the memory because you said that, but i swear to god i remember seeing what you described. they just screamed.
 
Jaren_2005
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
Oh God. Yes. The little girl, Janice, I remember seeing her shake. And the Skin-Taker screaming through his gnashing teeth, his jaw careening so wildly I thought it would come off its wire hinges. I turned it off and it was the last time I watched. I ran to tell my brother and we didn’t have the courage to turn it back on.
 
mike_painter65
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show?
i visited my mom today at the nursing home. i asked her about when i was littel in the early 70s, when i was 8 or 9 and if she remebered a kid’s show, candle cove. she said she was suprised i could remember that and i asked why, and she said “because i used to think it was so strange that you said ‘i’m gona go watch candle cove now mom’ and then you would tune the tv to static and juts watch dead air for 30 minutes. you had a big imagination with your little pirate show.”

 

 

 

[spoiler=The Russian Sleep Experiment]

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for
fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept
in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the
gas didn’t kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This
was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5
inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor
them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no
bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all
five for over a month.

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

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

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

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

So did the whispering to the microphones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only one response was given: “I must remain awake.”

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

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

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

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

The subject smiled.

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

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject’s heart and fired.
The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, “So… nearly… free…”

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=The Portraits]

There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was
in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost
his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of
the increasingly oppressive foliage. After a what seemed like hours, he
came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had
grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He
approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter
flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner
in the morning. As he looked around, he was suprised to see the walls
adorned by many portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without
exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features
twisted into looks of hatred. Staring back, he grew increasingly
uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful
faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a
restless sleep.

Face down in an unfamiliar bed, he turned blinking in unexpected
sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits,
only windows.

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=The Man in the Snow]

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.

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=The Internet Story]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9TCpsS-x7tU

 

 

 

[Nikiea]

Well I won't be sleeping comfortably tonight.....

so thanks a lot xD

 

[Emily]

Ah. Emily love this stuff. The Bosom of Abraham & Limbus held many wonder & strange secrets.

[The DarkSlayer]

Never read those ones but I'll take a look.

 

Here's a couple more:

 

[spoiler=An Egg]

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal
nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless
death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body
was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point mincing words.

“There was a…a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup.” I said

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies.” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup.” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be alright?”

“That what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I
just looked like some man. Some vague authority figure. More of a
grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you
as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you.
Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be
fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll
feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right.”

“All the religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strolled in the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just
be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I
did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and
experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right
now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more
magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A
human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like
sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You
put a tiny part or yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back
out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.”

“You’ve been a human for the last 34 years, so you haven’t stretched
out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out
here for longer, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no
point doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh, lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of different lives.” I said.
“This time around you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 A.D.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where do you come from?” You pondered.

“Oh sure!” I explained. “I come from somewhere. somewhere else. and
there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like
there but you honestly won’t understand.”

“Oh.” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If i get reincarnated
to other places in time, could I have interacted with myself at some
point?”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own timespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? Your asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question.” you persisted.

I looked in your eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No. just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life
you grow and mature, and become a larger and greater intellect” “Just
me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you, and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it.” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too.” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” you said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “You were victimizing
yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself.
Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will
be, experienced by you.”

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa.” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived
every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be
born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said. “It’s just…”

“An egg of sorts.” I answered. “Now its time for you to move on to your next life.”

And with that, I sent you on your way.

Credit: Andy Weir

 

 

 

[spoiler=My Fear of Water]

I’ve always had a terrible fear of being submerged completely in
water. Not that I can’t swim or anything. My dad made me learn; he said I
almost drowned when I was really young.

I was afraid of it because, for as long as I can remember, whenever I
am under water and look up at the surface I see a woman reaching down
to me with a warm smile, with glowing golden hair and dark blue eyes.
Even if its just in a bathtub. It always happened, it was just normal
for me, but i never got used to it.

It was unnerving, but also soothing at the same time. She always made
me feel like it was okay. I still avoided it, though, because I was
just a kid and it was really freaky.

I never told my dad about it as a kid, but I did ask him about my
mom. He never wanted to talk about her. Sometimes he even got mad at me
for trying too hard to bring it up.

It was only recently that I described this apparition to him. He
nearly drove into a telephone pole; obviously he knew something. I asked
him, again, about my mom. He still would say much, except that she died
when I was very young, and that she loved me very much. He also
admitted that her hair and eyes were those colors, just like mine.

So I did some research on my own, looking up her name for myself on
my birth certificate and trying to find any references I could, any news
clips about a boy nearly drowning, any thing. I mostly wanted a
picture, something I could match to my guardian angel.

Today, buried in our town library, I found it.

WINCHESTER: Marie Withie, 28, drowned to death yesterday evening
after climbing a razerwire fence and fleeing to a nearby resevoir. A
funeral is scheduled by her family for the 25th. Marie was
institutionalized just six months ago, after being found “not guilty” of
attempted murder on grounds of insanity. Her husband Daniel Withie had
acted quickly enough to rescue their infant child when she was found
trying to drown him in a bathtub.

 

 

 

[spoiler=Darkness]

It all started after moving into my new house. Yeah, that’s pretty
cliche. Believe me, I know, but it’s what happened. I never experienced
anything supernatural before and, though interested, I never really
expected anything to happen to me.

I was able to rent the house for pretty cheap. I didn’t think
anything of it because it was old and not in the best of neighborhoods
so I guessed I just got a good deal. After moving everything in, things
were fine for a while.

I don’t remember exactly when it started because it seemed so minor
at the time. I’d leave a light on in the kitchen or the bathroom and
come back to find it off. Honestly, I thought I was just forgetting that
I turned them off already when I came back. After a while, I began to
wonder and started leaving a couple lights on on purpose. Sometimes,
nothing would happen. Sometimes, I’d come back to find the lights turned
off.

By now, I figured out that something was off. I wasn’t really scared,
but just confused. I thought maybe something was wrong with the
electronics. I started leaving lights on a bit more often (freakin’
killed my PG&E bill) because I thought I might be able to get some
sign of why they would randomly shut off. That’s when it started to take
another turn.

The first real time I remember something crazy happening was when I
left the kitchen and living room light on while I was asleep. I woke up
to a deep, rumbling growl coming from the kitchen. Now, from the
bedroom, you can see down the hall to the living room and that room is
connected to the kitchen. I remember waking up and thinking that there
was an animal or something in my house. I looked down the hall toward
the living room to see the light darker. Somebody had flicked off the
light from the kitchen. Another low growl came, this time from the
living room and I nearly screamed as I saw something bold across the
length of the hall opening and then the living room light went out. I
couldn’t tell exactly what it was though. It just seemed like a black
shadow or something. It didn’t really matter. I was scared shitless. I
bolted from my bed then and threw on the bedroom light, expecting
something to be in this room and getting ready to come after me.

Nothing. There wasn’t anything in the room. I let out a low breath
and then I slowly moved down the hall into the living room. Once I got
to the end, I practically bolted to throw on the light switch there.
Again, nothing. Kitchen next and, once again, nothing!

I was starting to think I dreamed all of it before I went to turn off
the kitchen light and stopped. Now, I was a grown man but here I was
terrified to turn off that switch. And I’ll admit it, I slept with all
the lights on that night.

That was a mistake.

When I woke up the next morning, all the lights were off once again. I
went to push myself out of bed and winced as my body felt sore. I
pulled the sheets off to see long red marks running down along my legs
and arms. It looked like something scratched me in the night. That
terrified the hell out of me but not nearly so much as when I saw what
happened.

Every light I left on was smashed.

Every lightbulb that was on last night was broken, every lamp knocked
over and smashed in. My breath caught in my throat as I looked around.
Something was fucked up as hell here. And something tried to…well do
something to me. I called in for work that day and went to immediately
replace all the lights.

I didn’t know what to do then. I thought about leaving but, and I
know this probably sounds stupid, but this was my home. It was my first
time away from my family and this was MY home. I couldn’t give it up.
So…I stayed.

Even as it got worse.

Even though I was begining to become terrified of the dark, I
couldn’t really sleep with the light on me at night in the bedroom. I’d
leave other lights on though, like in the hall, or the living room
giving myself enough to see pretty well in my darker room. And, almost
every night, I’d wake up in the middle of the night to hear something
growling and prowling around the living room and then the lights would
shut off. I didn’t want to go look. I was terrified at the thought of
being in the same room with whatever was in there. So I curled up in bed
and prayed it never came in.

One night, after this went on for a while, I had it. I bought a gun
and turned on every light in the house. Then I sat down in the middle of
the living room with my gun in my lap and a baseball bat sitting next
to me. I waited. There was nothing at first for a long time. At around 2
in the morning I began to hear it. Oddly, it was behind me. I turned
and peeked toward the hall to my bedroom and could hear that familiar
growl. I swallowed and held my gun in one hand and the bat in the other
and slowly began to step around to get a better view of bedroom from the
living room. As I began to get a view of my bed, I heard a loud THUMP!
followed by an inhuman roar. I, being the brave man I was, jumped back
and away from the hallway. I wanted to end this all but, dear god I
didn’t want to deal with that thing! I could hear tearing and smashing
but, and I don’t know how I caught it, but I did manage to hear an
audible “click”. And then nothing. Slowly, I went back to peek down the
hall and the light was off once again. A deep breath and I ventured
forth, my weapons ready.

When I came to my bedroom and flicked the light back on, I gasped. My
bed was ravaged, torn completely apart. It was like some animal had
jumped into it and just ripped it to shreds. I stepped forward to look
at what was left of my bed and just stood in shock for who knows when.
It wasn’t until I heard the sound of a familiar growl that I turned
around. Standing near my door, right at the light switch, was when I
finally saw it.

It was a man, a white and rotting man with a mangled body that looked
like he had once been a dog’s chewtoy staring at me. I was too in shock
to even raise my weapons. He stared at me for just a moment and
then…flicked off the light. I screamed. I’m not even ashamed to admit
it. I screamed and bolted. I didn’t care of that was where that…man…had
been standing. I ran right past where I had seen him, swinging my bat
like a madman. I nearly put a hole in the hallway as I ran through into
the safe light of the hall. I turned to look back then, just in time to
see him once again near the hall’s light switch. He turned that one off
too. By then, I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to be safe. I burst past
the living room and into the brightness of my kitchen.

I heard the sound of growling and scratching nearly all around me
then and I knew he was coming back. I looked back to once again see that
mangled and rotten corpse of a man turn off another light with a broken
finger and plunge me into terrifying darkness. I broke for the living
room.

This was going to be my final stand. I’d have to fight here. I drew
close to the standing lamp that was my last line of defense. It hated
the dark so I’d stay right here. Next to this comforting standing lamp. I
waited for it to turn off but…it never did. I looked around and…quiet.
Nothing but quiet. I turned then to look at that saving grace of a lamp
that refused to yield. I started to find myself laughing, a crazy but
ALIVE laught and I thought I’d finally be ok. Stepped closer and I swear
I almost hugged that lamp.

Until I saw it.

I heard the growl first coming not from behind me but in front! From
that lamp. My eyes widened and I stared as the light from that lamp
intensified. I stumbled back and, I don’t know what happened but I think
I tripped on something. I just know I found myself flat on my back
staring up at that bright, intense light. It wasn’t comforting any
longer. Just hot and heavy and bright…I thought it was going to burn me
away. And then it came.

I don’t have words to describe what poured from that lamp’s light. It
was hideous, twisted, and filled with rage. I know I’ll never forget
those eyes though. Bright, hot, and white…two glowing circles of pure
malice. It hated me. It hated everything about me. And not just me. It
hated all of us. Every human being. But it was stuck here. And it would
lash out at what it could. Me. I don’t know how I knew this but…I just
knew. I lunged for me and I prepared myself for a painful death.

“CLICK!”

The light went out. Once again, darkness. Sweet, quiet, relaxing
darkness. I stayed on the ground for a long moment, letting my eyes
adjust as I kept my gaze fixated on where my standing lamp was. As the
seconds passed, I could start to make him out. That mangled man standing
by the lamp, one torn hand upon the switch as he looked down at me.

I understood then. I understood what it all meant. Everything that
happened. The man pulled his hand away from it and then pointed and
mangled finger toward it before, very clearly, shaking his head from
side to side. All I could find myself doing was nodding.

He wasn’t the one trying to harm me. All this time, all those
instances, he was trying to protect me. That creature could only come in
the light. And this mangled man had been trying to keep me safe. He
didn’t want someone else to repeat his mistakes.

I moved out the very next day and never looked back. Whatever it was,
it was confined to that house and, so far, nothing has come at me from
another light source. However, that thing will always stick with me in
my mind. Every night, in my new apartment, I made a habit of wondering
around the house, making sure every light is off, every curtain is
closed, and made sure to plunge myself in quiet, comforting, and safe
pitch darkness.

 

 

 

[spoiler=The Boy who Loved to Read]

Once, there was a boy who loved to read. He read everything he could
get his hands on, and loved going to his favorite book store. One day,
the boy realized he had read everything the store had to offer. He
confronted the owner, and asked him if he had anything the boy had never
checked out. The owner said why, yes, I do, and pulled out a book
called “Death”. He gladly sold it to the boy at a discounted price of
50$.

However, he warned the boy, never to read the front page. Well, the
boy returned to his house and read the book, and he was content.
However, he always wondered, what could be on that front page, it was
always in the back of his mind. One day, the temptation was too much for
the boy, and he flipped to the very front of the book, and dropped the
book in HORROR.

There, in bold print, was MSRP 7.99$

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Atreyu]

*reads The Boy Who Loved To Read*  ...I may never sleep again.  @_@

[Call me Mark]

*reads The Boy Who Loved To Read*  ...I may never sleep again.  @_@

 

Oh the HUMANITY!! HAHA

[Emily]

If someone makes a movie idea out of these script from creepy pasta... won't that be considered stealing or ..wait, does these writings has their own copyrights?

[The DarkSlayer]

I don't think it would last that long. Or they could do like a mini series out of it like the twilight zone or tales from the crypt.

[Emily]

Aye twilight zones..

[Queen Bee]

[spoiler=The Crimson Lady]
A young woman was traveling cross country when she stopped for the night at a roadside motel. It was the ordinary sort, single level with maybe twenty or thirty rooms. Perhaps a bit rundown but still serviceable, with decent rates and clean rooms.

But it was at the front desk that the woman noticed several newspaper clippings posted behind the register with headlines like The Crimson Lady Strikes Again! and Local Motel Haunted by Deadly Specter. Amused, the woman asked the man behind the desk about them.

"Oh, that?" the man replied. "The Crimson Lady's our little claim to fame. Haunts room 207, won't let anyone come in. We keep that room empty, but of course it doesn't hurt business any. We get ghost chasers and paranormal experts come in here every once in a while to try and catch a glimpse, though most don't see a thing. And that's good for them, believe me."

The woman scoffed at this. "Don't tell me some ghost actually killed someone," she said.

"More than one, in fact." The man tapped an article that proclaimed Fifth Victim Of The Crimson Lady. "She doesn't like being seen. Anyone who sees her goes mad, and anyone who looks her in the eye dies twenty four hours later. Everyone knows to stay away now. No one's been in there to so much as change a light bulb in over fifty years. It even has the same door."

The woman gave a little laugh at this. "Yeah, right. I'll have the key to my room now."

 

The man gave her the key and she left, still chuckling over the silly story. On her way to her room, she stopped outside room 207 and eyed the door for a few seconds. It certainly looked the part, a weathered old door carved of heavier wood than the others. Finally curiosity got the better of her, and she bent and peeked through the ancient keyhole. The interior was dark, but enough light bled through the curtains that she was able to just make out the form of a naked female huddled in the corner. She had long black hair and deathly pale skin, and was facing away from the door, clutching her knees and rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

 

The woman blinked and pulled away from the door, unsettled but still unafraid. "Yeah, real funny!" she called through the door. "You should put some clothes on, unless you want some kid to look in and see you!" And with that she went to her room and went to sleep.

 

In the morning, the woman stopped by room 207 again. Surely they couldn't keep someone in there around the clock, she reasoned. She once more peeked through the keyhole, but this time saw only red. No room, no woman, just red, as though someone had placed a red card in front of the door. Confused and perhaps a little disappointed, the woman returned to the front desk to turn in her key.

 

"You guys really lay it on thick, y'know that?" she said.

 

The man at the desk frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

 

"Putting an actor in 207 to pretend to be a ghost," the woman explained. "And a naked one at that. You guys should be ashamed. What if some kid had seen?"

 

The man grew pale and shook his head slowly. "We...didn't hire an actor," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

But the woman was unconvinced, laughing off his reaction. "Sure, sure. Tell it to the tourists." She turned to go, stopping at one of the newspaper clippings by the door. "It's not even accurate. Crimson Lady? She was white as a sheet!"

 

"She's not called the Crimson Lady because of her skin," the man replied. "She's called the Crimson Lady because of her eyes."

 

[Guest]

Well, hopefully this thread will become more successful than the Creepypasta thread I made a while back (which shriveled and died... don't bother to revive it). 

 

So... I don't really have anything to contribute to this thread right now aside from saying that creepypasta's are kewl!

[Emily]

that darkness is powerful story. it should be made a movie or graphic novel.

[The DarkSlayer]

Here are some well known ones

 

[spoiler=Suicide Mouse.avi]

Do you remember those
Mickey Mouse cartoons from the 1930s? The ones put out on DVD a few
years ago? Well, I hear there's one that was unreleased, even to the
most avid classic Disney fans.

According to most sources, it's nothing special. it's just a
continuous loop (like in the Flintstones) of Mickey walking past six
buildings for two or three minutes before fading out.

Unlike the cutesy tunes put in other cartoons, however, the song on
this cartoon wasn't a song at all. It was just a constant banging on a
piano's keys for a minute and a half before going to white noise for the
remainder of the film.

It wasn't the jolly old Mickey we've come to love, either. Mickey
wasn't dancing or even smiling. He was just kind of walking as if you or
I would walk, with his head tilted to the side as he kept this dismal
look upon his face. Up until a year or two ago, everyone believed that
after it cut to black, that was it.

When Leonard Maltin was reviewing the cartoon to be put in the
complete series, he decided it was too junk to be included. However, he
wanted to have a digital copy due to the fact that it was a creation of
Walt's. When he had a digitized version on his computer, he noticed
something.

The cartoon was actually nine minutes and four seconds long.

This is what my source, an acquaintance of Mr. Maltin and a personal
assistant to one of the higher Disney executives, emailed to me, in
full.

 

After it cut to black, it stayed like that until the
sixth minute before going back to Mickey walking. The sound was
different this time, though. Instead of the piano, there was a
murmuring. It wasn't actual talking, but more like a gurgled cry.

As the noise got more indistinguishable and loud over the next
minute, the picture began to get strange. The sidewalk started to go in
directions that seemed impossible based on how Mickey was walking. The
dismal face of the mouse was slowly curling into a smirk, too. On the
seventh minute, the murmur turned into a blood-curdling scream and the
picture was becoming more obscure.

Colors were happening that shouldn't have been possible at the time.
Mickey's face began to fall apart, with his eyes rolling to the bottom
of his chin and his curled smile pointing upward on the left side of his
face.

The buildings became rubble floating in midair and the sidewalk was
still impossibly navigating in warped directions. Mr. Maltin became
disturbed and left the room, sending an employee to finish the video and
take notes of everything happening up until the last second and
immediately store the disc of the cartoon in the vault afterward.

The distorted screaming lasted until eight minutes and a few seconds
in, when it abruptly cuts to the Mickey Mouse face at the end of every
video with what sounded like an out of tune music box playing in the
background. This happened until the last thirty seconds, but I haven't
been able to find out what happened in those final seconds.

From a security guard under me who was making rounds outside that
room, I was told what happened after. After the video ended, the
employee stumbled out of the room looking pale. He repeated, "Real
suffering is not known," seven times before taking the guard's pistol
and shooting himself.

The only thing I could get out of Leonard Maltin was that the last
frame was a piece of Russian text that roughly said, "The sights of Hell
bring its viewers back in." As far as I know, no one else has seen it.
However, there have been dozens of attempts to get the file onto the
internet by employees inside the studios, all of whom were promptly
terminated of their jobs.

Whether or not it got online is up for debate, but if rumors serve me
right it's online under the name 'suicidemouse.avi.' If you ever find a
copy of it, I want you to never view it. Contact me by phone
immediately, regardless of the time. When a Disney death is covered up
as well as this, it means this has to be something huge.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZgWPbnwsIeE

 

 

 

[spoiler=Username: 666]

"I worked for youtube during 2006. I was a busy worker, and I
recently upload videos here. What I didn't know that some of the YouTube
moderators suspended a youtube account. I told them what it was, but
they wouldn't want me to.
 

I was wondering why I wasn't allowed to go on that page, rather
then what it was. But just then, one of the moderators handed me a piece
of paper with a writing on it. It was a link. He pleaded me not to ask
us about the sacret username ever again. The link was a youtube user
link. It said, 'www.youtube.com/666.' I went home after work, and typed
it on my computer. I found out that the account was suspended, so it's
no worry.

But, when I refreshed the pages several times, some things
changed. All of the video tags turned into the letters "X 666" and every
single text in the screen said '666.' I thought someone was hacking my
computer, but I denied it and then refreshed it. Just then, a channel
popped up. It was 666's channel. I looked at some of the videos, most of
them were crazy. One video contained four babies twisting their head.
Another video showed swirled graphics.

I decided to get off the video and went to another one, but a
blank pop up was shown. I clicked the blank button, and it took me to
another video by 666.

The video was shown a woman drowning into a blood pool and
disgusting things happen. I thought this was disgusting, so I decided to
pause the video. It didn't let me, because it wasn't responding. I
decided then to close internet explorer, but it wouldn't budge. I also
tried to go to another video too, but it didn't work either. I thought
there was no way out until I thought...

'The shut down button! Of course!' I decided to shut down my
computer so that the virus wouldn't get throught my computer again, but
the button wouldn't work. Shut down button's respond all the time! I
knew that I was hacked.

All hope was lost. I couldn't get out of the explorer, and the
video kept going on and on. And there was nothing to stop me. The girl
in the video kept starring at me, looking at me with random sounds and
beatings playing.

Just then, the woman's hand popped out of the video, and......."

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7iFXyLah2oQ

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Smile Dog]

 

I first met in person with Mary E. in the summer of 2007. I had
arranged with her husband of fifteen years, Terence, to see her for an
interview. Mary had initially agreed, since I was not a newsman but
rather an amateur writer gathering information for a few early college
assignments and, if all went according to plan, some pieces of fiction.
We scheduled the interview for a particular weekend when I was in
Chicago on unrelated business, but at the last moment Mary changed her
mind and locked herself in the couple’s bedroom, refusing to meet with
me. For half an hour I sat with Terence as we camped outside the bedroom
door, I listening and taking notes while he attempted fruitlessly to
calm his wife.

The things Mary said made little sense but fit with the pattern I was
expecting: though I could not see her, I could tell from her voice that
she was crying, and more often than not her objections to speaking with
me centered around an incoherent diatribe on her dreams — her
nightmares. Terence apologized profusely when we ceased the exercise,
and I did my best to take it in stride; recall that I wasn’t a reporter
in search of a story, but merely a curious young man in search of
information. Besides, I thought at the time, I could perhaps find
another, similar case if I put my mind and resources to it.

Mary E. was the sysop for a small Chicago-based Bulletin Board System
in 1992 when she first encountered smile.jpg and her life changed
forever. She and Terence had been married for only five months. Mary was
one of an estimated 400 people who saw the image when it was posted as a
hyperlink on the BBS, though she is the only one who has spoken openly
about the experience. The rest have remained anonymous, or are perhaps
dead.

In 2005, when I was only in tenth grade, smile.jpg was first brought
to my attention by my burgeoning interest in web-based phenomena; Mary
was the most often cited victim of what is sometimes referred to as
“Smile.dog,” the being smile.jpg is reputed to display. What caught my
interest (other than the obvious macabre elements of the cyber-legend
and my proclivity toward such things) was the sheer lack of information,
usually to the point that people don’t believe it even exists other
than as a rumor or hoax.

It is unique because, though the entire phenomenon centers on a
picture file, that file is nowhere to be found on the internet;
certainly many photomanipulated simulacra litter the web, showing up
with the most frequency on sites such as the imageboard 4chan,
particularly the /x/-focused paranormal subboard. It is suspected these
are fakes because they do not have the effect the true smile.jpg is
believed to have, namely sudden onset temporal lobe epilepsy and acute
anxiety.

This purported reaction in the viewer is one of the reasons the
phantom-like smile.jpg is regarded with such disdain, since it is
patently absurd, though depending on whom you ask the reluctance to
acknowledge smile.jpg’s existence might be just as much out of fear as
it is out of disbelief. Neither smile.jpg nor Smile.dog is mentioned
anywhere on Wikipedia, though the website features articles on such
other, perhaps more scandalous shocksites as ****** (hello.jpg) or
2girls1cup; any attempt to create a page pertaining to smile.jpg is
summarily deleted by any of the encyclopedia’s many admins.

Encounters with smile.jpg are the stuff of internet legend. Mary E.’s
story is not unique; there are unverified rumors of smile.jpg showing
up in the early days of Usenet and even one persistent tale that in 2002
a hacker flooded the forums of humor and satire website Something Awful
with a deluge of Smile.dog pictures, rendering almost half the forum’s
users at the time epileptic.

It is also said that in the mid-to-late 90s that smile.jpg circulated
on usenet and as an attachment of a chain email with the subject line
“SMILE!! GOD LOVES YOU!” Yet despite the huge exposure these stunts
would generate, there are very few people who admit to having
experienced any of them and no trace of the file or any link has ever
been discovered.

Those who claim to have seen smile.jpg often weakly joke that they
were far too busy to save a copy of the picture to their hard drive.
However, all alleged victims offer the same description of the photo: A
dog-like creature (usually described as appearing similar to a Siberian
husky), illuminated by the flash of the camera, sits in a dim room, the
only background detail that is visible being a human hand extending from
the darkness near the left side of the frame. The hand is empty, but is
usually described as “beckoning.” Of course, most attention is given to
the dog (or dog-creature, as some victims are more certain than others
about what they claim to have seen). The muzzle of the beast is
reputedly split in a wide grin, revealing two rows of very white, very
straight, very sharp, very human-looking teeth.

This is, of course, not a description given immediately after viewing
the picture, but rather a recollection of the victims, who claim to
have seen the picture endlessly repeated in their mind’s eye during the
time they are, in reality, having epileptic fits. These fits are
reported to continue indeterminably, often while the victims sleep,
resulting in very vivid and disturbing nightmares. These may be treated
with medication, though in someses it is more effective than others.

Mary E., I assumed, was not on effective medication. That was why
after my visit to her apartment in 2007 I sent out feelers to several
folklore- and urban legend-oriented newsgroups, websites, and mailing
lists, hoping to find the name of a supposed victim of smile.jpg who
felt more interested in talking about his experiences. For a time
nothing happened and at length I forgot completely about my pursuits,
since I had begun my freshman year of college and was quite busy. Mary
contacted me via email, however, near the beginning of March 2008.

Added by MooseJuice

To: jml@****.com

From: marye@****.net

Subj: Last summer’s interview

Dear Mr. L.,

I am incredibly sorry about my behavior last summer when you came to
interview me. I hope you understand that it was no fault of yours, but
rather my own problems that led me to act out as I did. I realized that I
could have handled the situation more decorously; however, I hope you
will forgive me. At the time, I was afraid.

You see, for fifteen years I have been haunted by smile.jpg.
Smile.dog comes to me in my sleep every night. I know that sounds silly,
but it is true. There is an ineffable quality about my dreams, my
nightmares, that makes them completely unlike any real dreams I have
ever had. I do not move and do not speak. I simply look ahead, and the
only thing ahead of me is the scene from that horrible picture. I see
the beckoning hand, and I see Smile.dog. It talks to me.

It is not a dog, of course, though I am not quite sure what it really
is. It tells me it will leave me alone if only I do as it asks. All I
must do, it says, is “spread the word.” That is how it phrases its
demands. And I know exactly what it means: it wants me to show it to
someone else.

And I could. The week after my incident I received in the mail a
manila envelope with no return address. Inside was only a 3 ½ -inch
floppy diskette. Without having to check, I knew precisely what was on
it.

I thought for a long time about my options. I could show it to a
stranger, a coworker… I could even show it to Terence, as much as the
idea disgusted me. And what would happen then? Well, if Smile.dog kept
its word I could sleep. Yet if it lied, what would I do? And who was to
say something worse would not come for me if I did as the creature
asked?

So I did nothing for fifteen years, though I kept the diskette hidden
amongst my things. Every night for fifteen years Smile.dog has come to
me in my sleep and demanded that I spread the word. For fifteen years I
have stood strong, though there have been hard times. Many of my fellow
victims on the BBS board where I first encountered smile.jpg stopped
posting; I heard some of them committed suicide. Others remained
completely silent, simply disappearing off the face of the web. They are
the ones I worry about the most.

I sincerely hope you will forgive me, Mr. L., but last summer when you
contacted me and my husband about an interview I was near the breaking
point. I decided I was going to give you the floppy diskette. I did not
care if Smile.dog was lying or not, I wanted it to end. You were a
stranger, someone I had no connection with, and I thought I would not
feel sorrow when you took the diskette as part of your research and
sealed your fate.

Before you arrived I realized what I was doing: was plotting to ruin
your life. I could not stand the thought, and in fact I still cannot. I
am ashamed, Mr. L., and I hope that this warning will dissuade you from
further investigation of smile.jpg. You may in time encounter someone
who is, if not weaker than I, then wholly more depraved, someone who
will not hesitate to follow Smile.dog’s orders.

Stop while you are still whole.

Sincerely,

Mary E.

Terence contacted me later that month with the news that his wife had
killed herself. While cleaning up the various things she’d left behind,
closing email accounts and the like, he happened upon the above
message. He was a man in shambles; he wept as he told me to listen to
his wife’s advice. He’d found the diskette, he revealed, and burned it
until it was nothing but a stinking pile of blackened plastic. The part
that most disturbed him, however, was how the diskette had hissed as it
melted. Like some sort of animal, he said.

I will admit that I was a little uncertain about how to respond to
this. At first I thought perhaps it was a joke, with the couple
belatedly playing with the situation in order to get a rise out of me. A
quick check of several Chicago newspapers’ online obituaries, however,
proved that Mary E. was indeed dead. There was, of course, no mention of
suicide in the article. I decided that, for a time at least, I would
not further pursue the subject of smile.jpg, especially since I had
finals coming up at the end of May.

But the world has odd ways of testing us. Almost a full year after I’d
returned from my disastrous interview with Mary E., I received another
email:

To: jml@****.com

From: elzahir82@****.com

Subj: smile

Hello

I found your e-mail adress thru a mailing list your profile said you
are interested in smiledog. I have saw it it is not as bad as every one
says I have sent it to you here. Just spreading the word.

(:

The final line chilled me to the bone.

According to my email client there was one file attachment called,
naturally, smile.jpg. I considered downloading it for some time. It was
mostly likely a fake, I imagined, and even if it weren’t I was never
wholly convinced of smile.jpg’s peculiar powers. Mary E.’s account had
shaken me, yes, but she was probably mentally unbalanced anyway. After
all, how could a simple image do what smile.jpg was said to accomplish?
What sort of creature was it that could break one’s mind with only the
power of the eye?

And if such things were patently absurd, then why did the legend exist at all?

If I downloaded the image, if I looked at it, and if Mary turned out
to be correct, if Smile.dog came to me in my dreams demanding I spread
the word, what would I do? Would I live my life as Mary had, fighting
against the urge to give in until I died? Or would I simply spread the
word, eager to be put to rest? And if I chose the latter route, how
could I do it? Whom would I burden in turn?

If I went through with my earlier intention to write a short article
about smile.jpg, I decided, I could attach it as evidence. And anyone
who read the article, anyone who took interest, would be affected. And
even assuming the smile.jpg attached to the email was genuine, would I
be capricious enough to save myself in that manner?

Could I spread the word?

Yes, yes I could.

[spoiler=Included Image]

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Emily]

O_o so much malice.

 

The smile dog is things of dream, they are night terrors.

These night terror are simplified into form of Cheshire cat or came originally from it.

 

They manifest on into this world like Emily.    chasing after her..

[Call me Mark]

Wow..... that's some really disturbing stuff....

[Queen Bee]

I actually found "An Egg" to be weirdly comforting. And it creates a great basis for a moral philosophy. People keep trying to say that when you hurt someone, you're really only hurting yourself. I think it would be really cool if it were literally true.

[Nikiea]

Who's to say it isn't?

My favorite one including the "The Boy Who Loved to Read"

As for the last one's....yyeahhh... not really much T.T

[Emily]

Totally agree 200% with Q.bee.

[The DarkSlayer]

A couple of gaming creepypastas all bundled up into 2 videos. Enjoy.

[spoiler=Part 1]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEn0j0sC0a4

 

[spoiler=Part 2]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iDT9hZGi0-Q