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It's Always the Quiet Ones Every class has those kids, you know, the ones that looks fragile and weak. They’re ignored throughout the entire year. There’s a reason why no one bugs them.
I am not one of them, I’m those average students on the side line that can socialize like the average human being. I’m not extravagant. I have friends. I do my work. There’s nothing special about me. Although, last year what happened in one of my classes was different.
Edger was one of them, those quiet ones. He didn’t sit at the back of the class like in those cliché stories you read or see in movies. For the first seven months of that school year he was silent. I don’t understand how those kids get away with not answering questions or not going up to the board to write out problems, on presentation days he’d disappear.
On the seventh month of school I’ve started to notice things about Edger. Heck, I wasn’
Creepypasta: With Friends Like TheseCreepypasta: With Friends Like These
You aren’t normally one to suggest stupid outings for the sake of stupid outings, but you and your friends are equal parts bored and stressed about high school starting up again. What better way to de-stress than spending a night in an abandoned house on the edge of town that’s reputedly haunted? Okay, there’s probably many ways that are all better and far less convoluted, but screw logic, you and three of your friends have made the decision and that’s how it’s gonna go down. Errol is the only one who won’t be coming. He said he’d be pretty busy tending to something that came up, although he wished you, Avril, Nathan, and Gary good luck in your ghost hunting.
“You guys ready to get scared?” Gray sniggers as the four of you look upon the desolate structure. You drove your friends out here, seeing as you’re the only one whose parents let you use their car.
The boards over the windows have lon
On A Day Like TodayA massive food shortage. The people in the cities are the first to go. Gradually, disease and starvation consume most of the farmers. People start the search for food.
A little girl with red hair and big, curious eyes heads to "the burbs" with her younger brother.
Her brother is stout, with brown, curly hair and chubby cheeks the size of peaches. His skin is olive-toned, unlike his sister, whose skin is as bright as the moon.
While walking to a nearby store, the pair notice famished, sickly looking bodies scattered here and there. One of them lies on a porch.
Porches. Porches that used to house smokers, and people who wanted to watch sunsets, and cats--big, fat cats, and old ladies who had no one better to be with than their big, fat cats. The thought made them sad, and just a little bit dreamy, because they wondered if they'd ever be as old as the old ladies with their big, fat cats.
And so they walked into the store to find everything from magazines to fruits to lamps to used fans. T
Creepypasta: Dreams of the DarkCreepypasta: Dreams of the Dark
It’s always the same dream. Dark bodies, thousands or maybe millions of them, floating in darkness. Then the monster appears and they all burn from the inside out. I try to stop it, but I can’t.
Because I am burning there with them.
The subject appears to have been awake all night, although I checked in on her at the usual time for her morning nutritional supplement. She insisted she wasn’t hungry, although incentives were given to make her eat. The hallucinations appear to be continuing, although oddly enough brain waves seem to be completely normal so she obviously shouldn’t be seeing these “monsters”. I have concluded she is likely either delusional or toying with me.
Damn bitch. Has to make my life even harder by being so uncooperative. Log out.
I see them. They are no longer people. Their souls have been eaten by the Cold Watcher. That’s what he
I've Got YouHe was falling.
He made no audible sound as he did. Partly because fear had gripped his voice box to the point where he couldn't make a noise and the other half was that he would only get a harsh mouthful of saltwater in response to his cry.
The water was rushing closer to him. Fifty feet. Forty feet. Thirty feet. Twenty.
He had tried to twist his body to grip the edge if the cliff face beside him, but the rough-edged rocks just sliced through the thin skin on his fingers and palms, forcing to let himself just plummet down below.
It was crazy, really. The great Altair, master of assassination, was going to die. Not because of the fall he was taking, but because of his lack of being able to swim.
He was most ashamed of himself.
A small grunt came from his clenched teeth as he made contact with the ocean and right on impact, he began to sink. He bucked his legs upward, trying to stop his sinking but they just flailed, not doing anything to help him.
Ever since he was a child, he had alwa
Creepypasta: Third Eye BlindCreepypasta: Third Eye Blind
“How do you plead?”
“Please, your honour, he’s still waking up. Give him a chance to come to his senses.”
“Ah. Very well.”
Terrence blinked his unfocused eyes and tried to shut out the conversation but the voices persisted. This was impossible. He’d just blown his brains out with a hunting shotgun, so it stood to reason that he shouldn’t be able to hear anything at all. Was this a hallucination as his shredded cranium bled in torn fragments all over the wall of his neglected one-bedroom apartment? This was the only time he’d committed suicide, obviously, so he didn’t have much prior experience to go on, but this still seemed more than a tad abnormal.
His hope that this was a short-lived hallucination died fast as he realized the scenario around him was coming into focus, slowly but surely, as opposed to fading to black. He was in a courtroom setting, of sorts, seated at one of the tables in f
Creepypasta: The Hangman's OriginCreepypasta: The Hangman’s Origin
The year is 1887 and you are Will Jameson, a photographer for a fairly well-known New York paper. It is a well-paying and fairly secure position. Your current task is to venture into that dying side of America called the Old West, currently on the verge of collapse under the crushing weight of modernization. The rail systems appear to make the country seem smaller every time they are expanded. Fittingly enough, because that’s how you are travelling to the ghost town you are supposed to take pictures of anyhow, via said railway.
Your economy cab is empty, save for one other male passenger and yourself of course. The interior is dimly lit, and the roaring din of the thunderstorm outside doesn’t do much to help visibility. It just makes you all the more thankful for the oil lantern suspended from the ceiling, without which you would trip over your own feet if you got up. Not like the cramped, sparsely appointed cab would give you enough
Creepypasta: Innocence Proves NothingCreepypasta: Innocence Proves Nothing
Darkness is my friend. It hides me from the light, and shrouds the maze of scars on my body from the gaze of my sinner’s eyes. A maze, or maybe a map, showing the way to true insanity. If I wasn’t insane when I was thrown in this padded room and placed on a 24-hour suicide watch, after what could have been either a week or a year (time has little meaning in the dark) I am indeed resolutely insane now. Accused of a murder I didn’t commit, and damned until the end of time to this little slice of Hell.
But in a peculiar way I am grateful. I never noticed how beautiful the dark is. How lovely things are when you can’t see them.
I don’t know why there is no light source in my cell. No one ever checks on me, maybe a bulb burned out long ago and they just don’t know. The lone time that light, that Hellish light that bares my naked flaws for all to see, pours into my cell is when feeding time comes and they shove in a pl
The Distorted MirrorsPlease note that this is a biography of my encounters with some rather paranormal entities within my second grade year in elementary school. Now, I just want you to know that this all is indeed true, and it's going to be something I never forgot, and can remember vividly. Well, I guess I'll start with how this all started and stuff, and how vivid one's mind and imagination can be.
So, it was the second grade, like I said already, and I was quite the child, but I was cowardly at times, not that it's unusual or anything. Though at the same time, I did have some sense of bravery. It was when it was close to summer, I had exams, though I honestly cannot remember the name; not every detail was with me then, I'm afraid. Instead of being in a normal classroom like normal people, I was just mortified and reluctant to learn that I would be having to spend my week in solitude, and one thing I definitely don't like is solitude, even at that age; at that age, I was horrified of being in small room
RD4 - Ashley's Crappy Rescue 13
Bursting into the camp, he yelled, "GRAB ALL OF OUR CRAP, WE'VE GOTTA MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE! Zombies are after me!" Luis woke with a start. "Whaddya do this time..." He asked, slightly drowsy. "I ACCIDENTALLY SNIPED ONE WHILE I WAS TARGET PRACTICING TO GET MY MIND OFF OF DESTROYING THINGS AND AAAAAAAGH" Leon choked as a zombie grabbed him from behind. Luis sat and watched his friend, laughing. God, was this Spaniard stupid. "Haha, Leon, I think that zombie likes you!"
"Are you having your 'evil issues' again?"
"Oh, OH! CRAP, LEON, THERE'S A ZOMBIE CHOKING YOU!"
Luis pulled out his gun and shot the zombie. Both Leon and the zombie fell to the ground, except Leon was breathing heavily and rubbing his neck. More zombies started appearing down the path by the time Leon recovered, but he recovered in about 10 seconds. These zombies were moving pretty fast. "Ugh, okay... LETS GO! DON'T FORGET THE STUPID PIZZA, LUIS! Ahem, ugh, okay. Good. NOW
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More