treasurenicole

Latest Posts by treasurenicole

Don't decrease the goal, increase the effort 💯

Just because someone carries it well doesn't mean that it isn't heavy 🕯🤍🕯

Don't tell me what they said about me, tell me why they felt comfortable saying it around you💯💯💯

The Clink

It all started with a clink,

It was my 21st birthday and shot glasses clinked,

But before then I have always heard a clink,

I was 3 years old and my dad came stumbling in the door,

I had no idea what my parents were fighting for,

I heard my parents divorce was on the brink,

But I was only a toddler what was I suppose to think,

I could never understand,

But my mom and dad held my hand,

My dad came home from having a drink,

But after he passed out on the floor I heard the table clink,

I walked in the dining room door,

But found that he was passed out on the floor,

I looked at the table and saw a can,

And I put the drink in my hand,

I took a sip and it was gross,

It was only then I realized that I missed my dad the most,

I thought it was sprite,

But something just didn't taste right,

It was beer,

But I was to young to know what was clear,

It was all a clink... it was all a clink,

When I found out that you died,

All I could do is cry,

It wasn't out of anger or that things got bad.

It was that I would no longer have my dad.

Never thought I could be so sad.

Or change so much,

But it was with you that I am now out of touch.

I'm now 22 years old and all I hear is a clink,

I clean my cup in the sink that reminds me of my thoughts from last night,

But something didn't feel right,

You weren't there fixing my hair for school,

You weren't there telling me the ultimate life rule.

You died and something in me went with it,

I wish that something could fit,

But I can no longer look forward to seeing you on the street,

Or randomly see you in the local walmart where we would meet,

What could have been so bad?

That you could not reach out to anyone my lovely Dad,

What took over all of your thoughts and pain,

What drove you away from all the things that made you sane.

There's so much I want to tell you and all of the things to know that you would think,

But all I need is to start with the clink.

The clink, the clink again, we need a clink to know where your thoughts began,

What hurt you so bad, I need to know dad,

Those beautiful hazel eyes and their silent cries,

I miss laying with you and how much you showed your love in our hellos and goodbyes.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1‑800‑273‑TALK (8255)

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1−800−799−7233

Crisis Text Line: Text HELLO to 741741

Trans Lifeline: US (877) 565-8860

Veterans Crisis Line: 1-800-273-8255 and Press 1

Her Name was Emma

Her name was Emma.

That’s what everyone called her, anyways. Sometimes they would call her Em, sometimes someone would slip up and call her Emily. She was a part of our group of girlfriends growing up in a large town, not quite big enough to be a city but big enough that there was still privacy between neighbors.

We called ourselves the “Unbreakable Six,” because there was me, Summer, Mel, Nina, and Jules.

And there was Emma.

Emma started off as a practical joke by the other girls in the fourth grade. It was probably Jules that started it. She was always playing pranks of people. In high school, she even got suspended once for going too far, and had to babysit for hours to buy that girl a new cellphone. Or maybe it was Summer, who always seemed too busy with music and band to think of such an elaborate prank. Or maybe it was Mel and Nina, who were best friends and could have lived without us, always conspiring together like they were twin sisters.

Either way, I bought my lunch, cold cut sandwich and carrot sticks and a pint of orange juice (I couldn’t stand milk; it would account for how short I ended up being) and walked over to our lunch table. Jules looked excited, waving me over to them.

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r/ImaginaryHorrors is section for horror art. Above are some of the top rated submissions. (Source & Artist Credit) (Top r/LetsNotMeet Stories)

He Took His Skin Off For Me is another short horror film I’d recommend. It’s a simple, domestic love story about a man who takes his skin off for his girlfriend, and why it probably wasn’t the best idea. You can watch it here

Here is my masterpost of short creepy films

Krampus

As a tool to encourage good behavior in children, Santa serves as the carrot, and Krampus is the stick. Krampus is the evil demon anti-Santa, or maybe his evil twin. Krampus Night is celebrated on December 5, the eve of St. Nicholas Day in Austria and other parts of Europe. Public celebrations that night have many Krampuses walking the streets, looking for people to beat. Krampus may look like a devil, or like a wild alpine beast.

Jólakötturinn

Jólakötturinn is the Icelandic Yule Cat or Christmas Cat. He is not a nice cat. In fact, he might eat you. This character is tied to an Icelandic tradition in which those who finished all their work on time received new clothes for Christmas, while those who were lazy did not (although this is mainly a threat). To encourage children to work hard, parents told the tale of the Yule Cat, saying that Jólakötturinn could tell who the lazy children were because they did not have at least one new item of clothing for Christmas—and these children would be sacrificed to the Yule Cat.

Frau Perchta

Tales told in Germany and Austria sometimes feature a witch named Frau Perchta who hands out both rewards and punishments during the 12 days of Christmas (December 25 through Epiphany on January 6). She is best known for her gruesome punishment of the sinful: She will rip out your internal organs and replace them with garbage. The ugly image of Perchta may show up Christmas processions in Austria, somewhat like Krampus.

Hans Trapp

Hans Trapp is another “anti-Santa” who hands out punishment to bad children in the Alsace and Lorraine regions of France. The legend says that Trapp was a real man, a rich, greedy, and evil man, who worshiped Satan and was excommunicated from the Catholic Church. He was exiled into the forest where he preyed upon children, disguised as a scarecrow with straw jutting out from his clothing. He was about to eat one boy he captured when he was struck by lightning and killed—a punishment of his own from God. Still, he visits young children before Christmas, dressed as a scarecrow, to scare them into good behavior.

Yule Lads

The Jólasveinar, or Yule Lads, are 13 Icelandic trolls, who each have a name and distinct personality. In ancient times, they stole things and caused trouble around Christmastime, so they were used to scare children into behaving, like the Yule Cat. However, the 20th century brought tales of the benevolent Norwegian figure Julenisse (Santa Claus), who brought gifts to good children. The traditions became mingled, until the formerly devilish Jólasveinar became kind enough to leave gifts in shoes that children leave out … if they are good boys and girls. 

Grýla

All the Yule Lads answer to Grýla, their mother. She predates the Yule Lads in Icelandic legend as the ogress who kidnaps, cooks, and eats children who don’t obey their parents. She only became associated with Christmas in the 17th century, when she was assigned to be the mother of the Yule Lads. According to legend, Grýla had three different husbands and 72 children, all who caused trouble ranging from harmless mischief to murder.

(Source)

CREEPY THINGS TO WATCH

A compilation of all the horror filled movies, t.v shows & documentaries I could find. It includes some of my own masterposts and other people’s masterposts. 

Scary Movie Masterpost

Childhood Halloween Masterpost

Psychological Thriller Movie Masterpost

Not So Scary Movie Masterpost

Link to Horror Movies You Shouldn’t Miss

Another Horror Movie Masterpost

Foreign Horror Films Masterpost

Creepy Short Film Masterpost

American Horror Story Masterpost

The Walking Dead Masterpost

Supernatural Masterpost

Scooby-Doo Masterpost

Top 10 Disturbing Documentaries

A Haunting Episode List

X-Files Episode List

Ghost Hunters Episode List

Ghost Adventures Episode List

The Twilight Zone Episode List

Unsolved Mysteries Series

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Series

Ghost Whisperer Series

Psychic Kids Series

Is It Real Series

Sightings Series

Strange But True Series

COSTUME/CREEPY MAKE-UP TUTORIALS

A compilation of amazing people with a talent for art and expression. Some of these are gorey, so be cautious. 

Cracked Doll

Infected

Severed Fingers

Dissected Arm

Maggot Eyes

Corpse Bride

Nightmare Before Christmas

Coraline

Dead Bride

Creepy Dummy Doll

Annabelle Doll

The Exorcist

The Ring

Silent Hill Nurse

Chucky: Child’s Play

Candy Demon

Unwanted House Guest

Monster Girl

Blood Nail Art

Scary Fairy Nails

Cute & Easy Halloween Nails

CREEPY STORY NARRARATIONS

What’s better than reading scary stories? Listening to them from people who have a voice that perfectly match the suspense needed for such stories.

MrCreepyPasta

DeadJosey

WellHeyProductions

CreepsMcPasta

Cry Reads

TheLittleFears

ChillingTalesForDarkNights

TheCreepyPastaRaven

Otis Jiry

TheCreepyBookworm

MissShadowLovely

Madame Macabre

Litter Bot

TalesofTim

KittenReadsHorror

Baranabas

CreepyPastaJr

TheCreepyDark

CreepyRainbowPasta

NIGHTMARE FUEL

Creepy compilations from around the web and from posts I’ve made before. 

Top Rated Scary Stories

Cracked on Horror

Listverse Bizarre and Creepy

Creepiest Gifs

Reddit No Sleep

Reddit Paranormal

Reddit Horror

Creepy Contacts

Top 10 Sixpenceee Stories

Top 10 Reddit Lets Not Meet Stories

Top 10 Creepy Short Films

Compilation of Short Creepy Stories

Unsettling Things on the Internet

Top 10 Terrifying YouTube Videos

Top 10 Creepy Audio Recordings

Creepy Dares List

Creepy Facts Compilation

Top 5 Disturbing Topics

Top 5 Fake Documentaries

6 Terrifying Comics

Common Nightmares & Their Meanings

Creepy Japanese Urban Legends

Creepy Lost Episodes Compilation

Compilation of Horror Pranks

Top 5 Mass Extinctions

Glitch in the Matrix

Top 10 Found Footage & Creepy Videos

Top 10 Long Scary Stories

Ways to Contact the Dead

Creepy Meaning Behind Nursery Rhymes

Creepiest Glitch Experiences

Paranormal Science Resources

Map of Monsters/Ghosts/Cryptids in the USA

Everything on Astral Projection

Everything on Terrifying Dolls

HORROR MASTERPOSTS

The first couple are masterposts I’ve made, the rest are masterposts I’ve gathered from other blogs. 

Masterpost of World’s Scariest Places

Masterpost of True Terrifying Events

Masterpost of Creepy Stories

Masterpost of Gothic Novels

Masterpost of Creepy Websites

Masterpost of Creepy Online Games

Masterpost of Creepy Sleep-Over Games

Masterpost of Scary Music

Masterpost of Free Indie Horror Games

Another Halloween Masterpost

Halloween Pixel/Background Masterpost

Another Halloween Pixel/Banners/Cursor Masterpost

Chilling Tales For Dark Nights Masterpost

Paranormal Podcast Masterpost

Scary App Masterpost

Paranormal Creatures Masterpost

Superstitions Masterpost

Creepy Wikipedia Articles Masterpost

Masterpost of Creepy Stuff

Myths & Urban Legends Masterpost

The Bloodworth Saga Masterpost

Scary October Masterpost

Don’t Say It’s Name

by sixpenceee user Veiled-Tales 

It started out as most horror stories do, slowly. In fact I remember the first day that I saw…”it”. I apologize now for not being able to say it’s name. For now we’ll just call it the “Intruder” I’ve tried many times to warn my friends and family but every time I say it’s name people around me seem to just go blank for a few seconds, then they completely forget that I said anything at all. I have no idea what’s going on, but I seem to be getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning, maybe then I’ll finally be able to explain all of this. I had a relatively normal childhood, in fact nothing too out of the ordinary happened until I was in high school. The very first night it came to me I was laying down to go to sleep. It was just like any other day that transitioned into any other night, or so I thought. As I laid in bed I reminisced about what had happened throughout that day when suddenly I was gripped by a sudden fear. It felt as though my chest had suddenly tightened and I felt the urge to cry instantly. I had no idea why but I could definitely feel it there, though at the time I didn’t know it’s name. The only way I can explain it is a dark, thick, smothering shadow. It doesn’t have a shape, it doesn’t have a face, it’s just there. I knew at that moment that I was no longer alone. I suppose eventually it became bored and slowly faded into the corner of my room and I finally drifted off into a restless sleep. I would soon be having a lot of sleep that felt more like exercise than rest.

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The Tall Man of Briarbell, Missouri

By reddit user  The_Dalek_Emperor

We had all liked Mr. Winscot. He didn’t mind when we used the sledding hill on his property and he always gave out the best Halloween candy in the neighborhood. So when we heard he’d been taken by the Tall Man everyone was really bummed out.

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It Started As A Leak

By Ariel Lowe

The rainy season began in early summer, and June had been no exception. It did not surprise the man when he discovered rainwater dripping from his dining room ceiling. 

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Someone’s pretending to be my wife

by reddit user psycho_alpaca

I’ll catch Susan smiling at me for no reason. This has happened more than once. We’ll be watching TV, just the two of us, like always. Then I’ll notice with the corner of my eye that she’s got her eyes at me, not at the TV. Head turned ninety degrees my way, a frozen smile on her face I can only barely make out in my peripheral vision. Something unnatural about it.

And then I turn to look and she’s got her eyes on the TV again. I asked her about it the first time, she denied it. I was afraid I’d sound crazy if I pushed it, so I never asked again.

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Omayra Sanchez

Omayra Sanchez was a 13-year-old Colombian girl who became trapped in the debris of her collapsed home, which was caused by a mudslide from the eruption of a volcano in 1985. 

 Sanchez’s legs were bent in a kneeling position and trapped under concrete. Her deceased aunt also had her arms wrapped tightly around the girl’s legs. The workers and volunteers realized there was no way to rescue the girl without severing her legs. 

They lacked the equipment to be able to save her from the effects of amputation, so the doctors decided that it would be more humane to let her die. Sanchez lasted three days before succoming to the likely effects of exposure. 

The entire world followed her televised plight and was outraged that the government didn’t do more to save her and other victims of the mudslide. (Source) 

I’m Not Supposed to Tell Anyone This

by reddit user Jessiivee

It all started this past November. I had a major job interview in Toronto at a graphic design firm.

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CREEPY STORIES: THE GIRL IN THE LOG

by reddit user Fillimilli

TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ABUSE

kind of a long read, but so worth it

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"He took his skin off for me"

"Never Woke Up" by Katy Towell

Washington's Inconceivable (creepypasta)

Let me begin by stating that I have always had a fascination with nature and its creatures. Even at a young age, I would watch documentaries that explained nature, its inhabitants and humanity’s place as the apex predator. As I progressed from childhood to adulthood, the documentaries ingrained in my subconscious would determine my career—an ecologist. I was twenty-five when I applied for ecology and I was ecstatic when I received a phone call from Seattle’s ecologists accepting me as their latest employee. Weeks transitioned into months and months became years as I worked tirelessly to solve any problem an ecosystem faced, whether it’d be a lack of a carnivore’s diet or too many herbivores. Sure, the work was tedious and demanding, but it provided me satisfaction for the effort of doing something worthwhile; providing relief for the wildlife’s misfortunes was all I required, aside from my paycheck. It had been an uneventful day at the University of Washington, and I had been reviewing the statistics of local lobsters when I was approached by one of my colleagues that—for privacy—I will name as Mr. J, who seemed to be troubled by something I could hardly fathom, his perplexed face was enough to warrant my inquiry into the matter. When asked what troubled him enough to seek me, he seemed to remember he’d been gripping a clipboard that had escaped my notice. He relinquished the clipboard to me, and as I read the report attached to it, I soon became confused as well. The source of my confusion was that, for reasons not understood, the black-tailed deer population had dramatically declined at Olympic National Park. There were multiple scenarios that served as a valid answer—perhaps a foreign predator had entered the territory, the population of predators in the area could have greatly increased or the deer had contracted a disease. All of these scenarios were plausible, but until the cause of this mysterious occurrence was ascertained, it was difficult to know. Once I had finished reading the report, I voiced my question of how this pertained to me. Mr. J’s reply was an apologetic look before seemingly mustering the courage to tell me that he had been planning a vacation that couldn’t be delayed. He had prepared for the vacation to begin tomorrow, and he sincerely hoped that I would complete his assignment with a young man who had been employed. Reluctantly, I agreed to his request with no small amount of annoyance developing inside of me. Satisfied with my answer, he left my sight with a joyous smile and an energetic skip in his step. What my co-worker had failed to mention was that his assignment would begin two days after he received it, and the dead-line was in six days. Perhaps he did not feel the need to speak to me about this information; whether it was laziness or lack of memory, it only reminded me of the regret I felt for accepting his request. Our conversation was exchanged three days ago, now I sat in the passenger seat of a small, white jeep being driven by a new employee who I, or the other ecologists, had not been well-acquainted with. There was not much known about him, only individuals who personally knew him would say he was a quiet man, socially withdrawn, but he did possess compassion for animals. In certain aspects, he was identical to me, albeit he was much younger, and my 30th year was approaching. One rumor had spread rapidly throughout the university; some people believed he was the man whose sister had perished with his house to a fire when he was a small child, but it was not my right to pry into his personal life. As the young man continued to drive us toward our destination, the sky became darker and the last rays of sunlight disappeared. In response, my driver turned on the jeep’s headlights to get a better look at his surroundings as nightfall became evident and stars glittered in the sky. It had taken several hours to come close to our destination, and it had been quite some time since I had seen another vehicle on this barren, concrete road; the only company we currently had were the vast amount of trees that lined the road on both sides, some of the trees even appeared to be covered in moss. Soon, a wooden sign came within view on the right-side of the road, and we halted the vehicle. We observed the sign, and were relieved to have finally reached our destination—Olympic National Park. The sign itself was lovely, the base of the sign was supported by stones and the wood was adorned with a small insignia of a tree and mountain. Still, we did not come this far to admire a mere sign; we had quickly driven past it and continued our route. We drove further into the national park, until we arrived at a security booth operated by a middle-aged forest ranger who seemed to recognize us as the team from Seattle. He welcomed us through the window of the booth before politely asking that that we park the vehicle on the side of the road, which we complied as we turned off the ignition and headlights. After exchanging pleasantries, the forest ranger, grasping a flashlight, lead us to a thin, dirt trail winding into a section of the forest. He proceeded to give us orders to follow the trail until we found a cabin, he also advised us to be wary of wolves, bears and cougars as he handed us his flashlight. Satisfied with his warning, we thanked him as we entered the forest. After walking a considerable distance and seeing nothing but trees, bushes and an occasional stream, we were greeted by the sight of a large, circular clearing; at the far end of the clearing, positioned on a small hill, was a decent-sized cabin. Once we strode across the clearing and up the small mound, I was able to obtain a better examination of the cabin. Upon closer inspection, I was slightly disappointed; numerous areas of the window were cracked, and the exterior wood had been rotting for quite some time. Silently praying that the interior structure wasn’t horribly damaged, I grasped the door handle and opened the cabin door, only for an acrid smell to pierce the air. My colleague and I quickly retreated from the door to escape the nauseating stench in fear of regurgitating our meals. When the scent had dissipated, we spent several minutes scouring outside the cabin to identify the origin of the smell that we had the misfortune of inhaling. Unable to find the source, we decided to enter the cabin and were astonished by what we saw; despite the exterior structure being damaged, the interior was unharmed. The cabin only had one room, yet was spacious enough to hold a large group of people; two green beds accompanied by a nightstand for each respective bed lined the walls, and a desk was positioned near the front window. Although we were interested in the room, we began to feel weary from the trip, and the beds seemed to almost beckon to us like sirens to sailors. With haste, we discarded our clothing, placed the flashlight and jeep key on a nightstand, dove into our beds and drifted to sleep. The next two days spent trying to find any sort of problem that plagued the deer population were in vain; despite my years of expertise, I could not find anything abnormal. During many of our breaks from our work, we also attempted to locate the source of the mysterious stench from the first night for curiosity’s sake, yet the origin continued to elude us. I had thought this would be another regular assignment that would provide an easy answer, but I was proven extremely wrong; the next three days’ events are what truly disturbed me, and had me concerned for my partner. Over the course of those days, he’d become increasingly agitated, sluggish and complaining about painful headaches. He would barely eat any of the packaged jerky we had stuffed in our pockets, and would occasionally leave to vomit in random bushes. I didn’t know what ailed my co-worker, but I was determined to see him receive treatment. Night soon overcame the day, and we prepared to accept that we would not discover the answer that had been elusive. Once again, we discarded our clothing, climbed into our beds and drifted to sleep. I can not recall when I awoke that night, all I can remember was that it was extremely dark when I glanced at the window. It was unusually quiet, and I was slightly frightened; there was no chirping of crickets, no croaking of frogs, nothing that indicated anything was alive outside of the cabin. As I pondered about this unusual behavior of the wildlife, a repulsive stench filled the room, only it was much more intense than the first night I was exposed to it. I was soon alerted to faint footsteps outside the cabin, and I could see something stirring outside the window. I strained my eyes to peer out the window, and immediately regretted it. Something was definitely outside, and although I could not properly see it, I knew that it was immensely large. The door groaned as the shape outside pushed it open, and I quickly hid under the covers and remained motionless. I desperately tried to gaze through the fabric of the sheets at what stood outside the doorway, yet I could only see the faint shape of the creature; it was obviously massive and bulbous but despite its large shape, it was somehow able to step through the doorway, almost as if it passed through a non-existent door frame. Its foot steps, oh God, it sounded unnatural! The rhythm of its foot steps would give someone the impression that it had more than four legs! That was impossible, no mammal that was recorded had more than four legs! I continued to watch the shape as it seemed to disregard me, instead it focused its attention on my partner. Once it strolled across the room, and stood beside the bed of my associate, it proceeded to simply stare at the sleeping form. Several moments passed before I saw the silhouette of the young man awaken, and leave his bed. He seemed to stare at whatever was in front of him before muttering in disbelief “Cassandra?” He began to sob uncontrollably and—to my utter horror —embraced the thing that stood in front of him. “I missed you so much, it was my fault for playing with that lighter, I couldn’t have known what it would have done,” he whimpered. The thing continued to remain still as the man embraced it as if he had known it his entire life. He quickly composed himself before asking the creature why it wanted him to follow it. The reply was only chittering and guttural noises, yet the man seemed content with the answer. He quickly wiped away his tears, followed the creature out of the cabin, and into the night. Once the pair had disappeared, the forest life seemed to return; I could hear the croaking of frogs, the chirping of birds, and sounds of movement in the forest encircling me. I remained frozen in shock as my mind tried to process what had occurred. When the realization of what happened finally sunk in, I threw the bed sheets from my body, donned my clothing, grabbed the jeep key from the nightstand, and sprinted out of the cabin. It is known that when a person experiences copious amounts of fear, it overwhelms said person, this was especially true for me. In my panic-stricken state, I had sprinted into the nearest section of the forest, completely forgetting the flashlight and losing sight of the trail that I was supposed to follow, now I could only hope that I was close enough to the trail that my co-worker and I had followed when we first arrived. My hopes of quickly exiting the forest began to diminish; I did not recognize this part of the forest, and I could only imagine that I was running deeper into the dense woodland, but I could not stop, I would not stop! That thing was after me, I knew it was! In my moment of casting fervent glances in any direction I could, I had failed to notice the object that was lying in front of me, and proceeded to trip and fall on top of it. I had become disoriented by the fall and I required a moment to regain awareness of my surroundings; once my head had cleared, I decided to look at the object that I had fallen on, and immediately scrambled away from it. What had tripped me was not simply a log or something that someone would expect, but the corpse of a deer, a black-tailed deer; the mammal’s chest appeared to have been sliced open and its organs strewn across the ground. I would never forget its eyes, those lifeless eyes that seemed to stare into my very being, and its visage displaying the most human-esque expression I had ever seen from an animal—terror. I soon became aware of the other corpses of animals that littered the ground; there were wolves, rabbits and even numerous bears, all seemed to have suffered the same fate as the deer, and all displayed looks of absolute horror. I quickly rose to my feet, ignored the coagulated blood that covered me and continued to dash through the forest, my desperation increasing with every step I took. I could scarcely imagine what fate had in store for my friend, and I shuddered as I recalled him following whatever led him away from the cabin; he had not bothered to grab his clothing, and the way he left the cabin seemed as if he was in a trance. I had been so distracted by my thoughts, I hadn’t realized that I emerged from the forest, and was in familiar territory. I instantly recognized the security booth in the distance, and the jeep parked on the side of the road leading away from this nightmarish place. With renewed energy, I sprinted down the road, past the booth, and to the door of the jeep. I fumbled the key from my pocket, and inserted it into the vehicular door as my mind raced with thoughts of relief. As I prepared to leave, I noticed movement in the side mirror of the vehicle and froze. I saw it, its true form, its inconceivable form that elicited a primal scream from me, and my vision darkened. I do not know when I regained clarity in a padded cell, and many of the doctors who worked at Western State Hospital had told me that they had no hope for my recovery, and it was a miracle I had recovered my sanity. As they removed my straight-jacket and prepared the release forms that would grant me my freedom, I requested to know why I had been placed here. They exchanged worried glances to each other before answering that people had found me crawling down the road away from Olympic National Park, muttering unintelligible words and phrases, and the appearance of my hair and clothes disheveled and covered in dark, dried blood frightened onlookers. Throughout my year of insanity at the psychiatric hospital, the doctors also mentioned that I produced many sketches of odd symbols, constellations, planets and a creature that appeared to have a crustacean body and arachnid legs with slender feelers on its chest, two large claws protruding from its back, possessing multiple humanoid eyes and no visible mouth, underneath the drawing was an abnormal word simply spelled Xilctha; the drawings disconcerted the doctors whenever they gazed at them, and were often thrown way or burned. A missing persons report had also been filed for my friend; the police found my partner’s nude, decayed corpse deep within the woodland, his visage displaying a look of terror, and his rotting organs scattered across the ground. To this day, I dread to envision him resembling the animals I’d found. It wasn’t long before memories of my days of being insane returned, although I wish they hadn’t, for it was not merely memories, but life-altering facts. Nothing excited me anymore, I did not dare to continue my work, I no longer had sympathy for animals, only contempt for exposing me to the reality of life and my value in this world. Often, I resorted to drinking liquor to repress the horrendous truth that I knew; humanity was simply a plaything, we created our illusion of superiority, only to never have been contested. Now, as I prepared to throw myself out of my apartment window in the hope of ending my life, I can only advise that you don’t travel to Olympic National Park, lest you are unfortunate to encounter the epitome of madness that I had discovered.

Psychosis (creepypasta)

Sunday I’m not sure why I’m writing this down on paper and not on my computer. I guess I’ve just noticed some odd things. It’s not that I don’t trust the computer… I just… need to organize my thoughts. I need to get down all the details somewhere objective, somewhere I know that what I write can’t be deleted or… changed… not that that’s happened. It’s just… everything blurs together here, and the fog of memory lends a strange cast to things… I’m starting to feel cramped in this small apartment. Maybe that’s the problem. I just had to go and choose the cheapest apartment, the only one in the basement. The lack of windows down here makes day and night seem to slip by seamlessly. I haven’t been out in a few days because I’ve been working on this programming project so intensively. I suppose I just wanted to get it done. Hours of sitting and staring at a monitor can make anyone feel strange, I know, but I don’t think that’s it. I’m not sure when I first started to feel like something was odd. I can’t even define what it is. Maybe I just haven’t talked to anyone in awhile. That’s the first thing that crept up on me. Everyone I normally talk to online while I program has been idle, or they’ve simply not logged on at all. My instant messages go unanswered. The last e-mail I got from anybody was a friend saying he’d talk to me when he got back from the store, and that was yesterday. I’d call with my cell phone, but reception’s terrible down here. Yeah, that’s it. I just need to call someone. I’m going to go outside. — Well, that didn’t work so well. As the tingle of fear fades, I’m feeling a little ridiculous for being scared at all. I looked in the mirror before I went out, but I didn’t shave the two-day stubble I’ve grown. I figured I was just going out for a quick cell phone call. I did change my shirt, though, because it was lunchtime, and I guessed that I’d run into at least one person I knew. That didn’t end up happening. I wish it did. When I went out, I opened the door to my small apartment slowly. A small feeling of apprehension had somehow already lodged itself in me, for some indefinable reason. I chalked it up to having not spoken to anyone but myself for a day or two. I peered down the dingy grey hallway, made dingier by the fact that it was a basement hallway. On one end, a large metal door led to the building’s furnace room. It was locked, of course. Two dreary soda machines stood by it; I bought a soda from one the first day I moved in, but it had a two year old expiration date. I’m fairly sure nobody knows those machines are even down here, or my cheap landlady just doesn’t care to get them restocked. I closed my door softly, and walked the other direction, taking care not to make a sound. I have no idea why I chose to do that, but it was fun giving in to the strange impulse not to break the droning hum of the soda machines, at least for the moment. I got to the stairwell, and took the stairs up to the building’s front door. I looked through the heavy door’s small square window, and received quite the shock: it was definitely not lunchtime. City-gloom hung over the dark street outside, and the traffic lights at the intersection in the distance blinked yellow. Dim clouds, purple and black from the glow of the city, hung overhead. Nothing moved, save the few sidewalk trees that shifted in the wind. I remember shivering, though I wasn’t cold. Maybe it was the wind outside. I could vaguely hear it through the heavy metal door, and I knew it was that unique kind of late-night wind, the kind that was constant, cold, and quiet, save for the rhythmic music it made as it passed through countless unseen tree leaves. I decided not to go outside. Instead, I lifted my cell phone to the door’s little window, and checked the signal meter. The bars filled up the meter, and I smiled. Time to hear someone else’s voice, I remember thinking, relieved. It was such a strange thing, to be afraid of nothing. I shook my head, laughing at myself silently. I hit speed-dial for my best friend Amy’s number, and held the phone up to my ear. It rang once… but then it stopped. Nothing happened. I listened to silence for a good twenty seconds, then hung up. I frowned, and looked at the signal meter again – still full. I went to dial her number again, but then my phone rang in my hand, startling me. I put it up to my ear. “Hello?” I asked, immediately fighting down a small shock at hearing the first spoken voice in days, even if it was my own. I had gotten used to the droning hum of the building’s inner workings, my computer, and the soda machines in the hallway. There was no response to my greeting at first, but then, finally, a voice came. “Hey,” said a clear male voice, obviously of college age, like me. “Who’s this?” “John,” I replied, confused. “Oh, sorry, wrong number,” he replied, then hung up. I lowered the phone slowly and leaned against the thick brick wall of the stairwell. That was strange. I looked at my received calls list, but the number was unfamiliar. Before I could think on it further, the phone rang loudly, shocking me yet again. This time, I looked at the caller before I answered. It was another unfamiliar number. This time, I held the phone up to my ear, but said nothing. I heard nothing but the general background noise of a phone. Then, a familiar voice broke my tension. “John?” was the single word, in Amy’s voice. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey, it’s you,” I replied. “Who else would it be?” she responded. “Oh, the number. I’m at a party on Seventh Street, and my phone died just as you called me. This is someone else’s phone, obviously.” “Oh, ok,” I said. “Where are you?” she asked. My eyes glanced over the drab white-washed cylinder block walls and the heavy metal door with its small window. “At my building,” I sighed. “Just feeling cooped up. I didn’t realize it was so late.” “You should come here,” she said, laughing. “Nah, I don’t feel like looking for some strange place by myself in the middle of the night,” I said, looking out the window at the silent windy street that secretly scared me just a tiny bit. “I think I’m just going to keep working or go to bed.” “Nonsense!” she replied. “I can come get you! Your building is close to Seventh Street, right?” “How drunk are you?” I asked lightheartedly. “You know where I live.” “Oh, of course,” she said abruptly. “I guess I can’t get there by walking, huh?” “You could if you wanted to waste half an hour,” I told her. “Right,” she said. “Ok, have to go, good luck with your work!” I lowered the phone once more, looking at the numbers flash as the call ended. Then, the droning silence suddenly reasserted itself in my ears. The two strange calls and the eerie street outside just drove home my aloneness in this empty stairwell. Perhaps from having seen too many scary movies, I had the sudden inexplicable idea that something could look in the door’s window and see me, some sort of horrible entity that hovered at the edge of aloneness, just waiting to creep up on unsuspecting people that strayed too far from other human beings. I knew the fear was irrational, but nobody else was around, so… I jumped down the stairs, ran down the hallway into my room, and closed the door as swiftly as I could while still staying silent. Like I said, I feel a little ridiculous for being scared of nothing, and the fear has already faded. Writing this down helps a lot – it makes me realize that nothing is wrong. It filters out half-formed thoughts and fears and leaves only cold, hard facts. It’s late, I got a call from a wrong number, and Amy’s phone died, so she called me back from another number. Nothing strange is happening. Still, there was something a little off about that conversation. I know it could have just been the alcohol she’d had… or was it even her that seemed off to me? Or was it… yes, that was it! I didn’t realize it until this moment, writing these things down. I knew writing things down would help. She said she was at a party, but I only heard silence in the background! Of course, that doesn’t mean anything in particular, as she could have just gone outside to make the call. No… that couldn’t be it either. I didn’t hear the wind! I need to see if the wind is still blowing! Monday I forgot to finish writing last night. I’m not sure what I expected to see when I ran up the stairwell and looked out the heavy metal door’s window. I’m feeling ridiculous. Last night’s fear seems hazy and unreasonable to me now. I can’t wait to go out into the sunlight. I’m going to check my email, shave, shower, and finally get out of here! Wait… I think I heard something. — It was thunder. That whole sunlight and fresh air thing didn’t happen. I went out into the stairwell and up the stairs, only to find disappointment. The heavy metal door’s little window showed only flowing water, as torrential rain slammed against it. Only a very dim, gloomy light filtered in through the rain, but at least I knew it was daytime, even if it was a grey, sickly, wet day. I tried looking out the window and waiting for lightning to illuminate the gloom, but the rain was too heavy and I couldn’t make out anything more than vague weird shapes moving at odd angles in the waves washing down the window. Disappointed, I turned around, but I didn’t want to go back to my room. Instead, I wandered further up the stairs, past the first floor, and the second. The stairs ended at the third floor, the highest floor in the building. I looked through the glass that ran up the outer wall of the stairwell, but it was that warped, thick kind that scatters the light, not that there was much to see through the rain to begin with. I opened the stairwell door and wandered down the hallway. The ten or so thick wooden doors, painted blue a long time ago, were all closed. I listened as I walked, but it was the middle of the day, so I wasn’t surprised that I heard nothing but the rain outside. As I stood there in the dim hallway, listening to the rain, I had the strange fleeting impression that the doors were standing like silent granite monoliths erected by some ancient forgotten civilization for some unfathomable guardian purpose. Lightning flashed, and I could have sworn that, for just a moment, the old grainy blue wood looked just like rough stone. I laughed at myself for letting my imagination get the best of me, but then it occurred to me that the dim gloom and lightning must mean there was a window somewhere in the hallway. A vague memory surfaced, and I suddenly recalled that the third floor had an alcove and an inset window halfway down the floor’s hallway. Excited to look out into the rain and possibly see another human being, I quickly walked over to the alcove, finding the large thin glass window. Rain washed down it, as with the front door’s window, but I could open this one. I reached a hand out to slide it open, but hesitated. I had the strangest feeling that if I opened that window, I would see something absolutely horrifying on the other side. Everything’s been so odd lately… so I came up with a plan, and I came back here to get what I needed. I don’t seriously think anything will come of it, but I’m bored, it’s raining, and I’m going stir crazy. I came back to get my webcam. The cord isn’t long enough to reach the third floor by any means, so instead I’m going to hide it between the two soda machines in the dark end of my basement hallway, run the wire along the wall and under my door, and put black duct tape over the wire to blend it in with the black plastic strip that runs along the base of the hallway’s walls. I know this is silly, but I don’t have anything better to do… Well, nothing happened. I propped open the hallway-to-stairwell door, steeled myself, then flung the heavy front door wide open and ran like hell down the stairs to my room and slammed the door. I watched the webcam on my computer intently, seeing the hallway outside my door and most of the stairwell. I’m watching it right now, and I don’t see anything interesting. I just wish the camera’s position was different, so that I could see out the front door. Hey! Somebody’s online! — I got out an older, less functional webcam that I had in my closet to video chat with my friend online. I couldn’t really explain to him why I wanted to video chat, but it felt good to see another person’s face. He couldn’t talk very long, and we didn’t talk about anything meaningful, but I feel much better. My strange fear has almost passed. I would feel completely better, but there was something… odd… about our conversation. I know that I’ve said that everything has seemed odd, but… still, he was very vague in his responses. I can’t recall one specific thing that he said… no particular name, or place, or event… but he did ask for my email address to keep in touch. Wait, I just got an email. I’m about to go out. I just got an email from Amy that asked me to meet her for dinner at ‘the place we usually go to.’ I do love pizza, and I’ve just been eating random food from my poorly stocked fridge for days, so I can’t wait. Again, I feel ridiculous about the odd couple of days I’ve been having. I should destroy this journal when I get back. Oh, another email. — Oh my god. I almost left the email and opened the door. I almost opened the door. I almost opened the door, but I read the email first! It was from a friend I hadn’t heard from in a long time, and it was sent to a huge number of emails that must have been every person he had saved in his address list. It had no subject, and it said, simply: seen with your own eyes don’t trust them they What the hell is that supposed to mean? The words shock me, and I keep going over and over them. Is it a desperate email sent just as… something happened? The words are obviously cut off without finishing! On any other day I would have dismissed this as spam from a computer virus or something, but the words… seen with your own eyes! I can’t help but read over this journal and think back on the last few days and realize that I have not seen another person with my own eyes or talked to another person face to face. The webcam conversation with my friend was so strange, so vague, so… eerie, now that I think about it. Was it eerie? Or is the fear clouding my memory? My mind toys with the progression of events I’ve written here, pointing out that I have not been presented with one single fact that I did not specifically give out unsuspectingly. The random ‘wrong number’ that got my name and the subsequent strange return call from Amy, the friend that asked for my email address… I messaged him first when I saw him online! And then I got my first email a few minutes after that conversation! Oh my god! That phone call with Amy! I said over the phone – I said that I was within half an hour’s walk of Seventh Street! They know I’m near there! What if they’re trying to find me?! Where is everyone else? Why haven’t I seen or heard anyone else in days? No, no, this is crazy. This is absolutely crazy. I need to calm down. This madness needs to end. — I don’t know what to think. I ran about my apartment furiously, holding my cell phone up to every corner to see if it got a signal through the heavy walls. Finally, in the tiny bathroom, near one ceiling corner, I got a single bar. Holding my phone there, I sent a text message to every number in my list. Not wanting to betray anything about my unfounded fears, I simply sent: You seen anyone face to face lately? At that point, I just wanted any reply back. I didn’t care what the reply was, or if I embarrassed myself. I tried to call someone a few times, but I couldn’t get my head up high enough, and if I brought my cell phone down even an inch, it lost signal. Then I remembered the computer, and rushed over to it, instant messaging everyone online. Most were idle or away from their computer. Nobody responded. My messages grew more frantic, and I started telling people where I was and to stop by in person for a host of barely passable reasons. I didn’t care about anything by that point. I just needed to see another person! I also tore apart my apartment looking for something that I might have missed; some way to contact another human being without opening the door. I know it’s crazy, I know it’s unfounded, but what if? WHAT IF? I just need to be sure! I taped the phone to the ceiling in case Tuesday THE PHONE RANG! Exhausted from last night’s rampage, I must have fallen asleep. I woke up to the phone ringing, and ran into the bathroom, stood on the toilet, and flipped open the phone taped to the ceiling. It was Amy, and I feel so much better. She was really worried about me, and apparently had been trying to contact me since the last time I talked to her. She’s coming over now, and, yes, she knows where I am without me telling her. I feel so embarrassed. I am definitely throwing this journal away before anyone sees it. I don’t even know why I’m writing in it now. Maybe it’s just because it’s the only communication I’ve had at all since… god knows when. I look like hell, too. I looked in the mirror before I came back in here. My eyes are sunken, my stubble is thicker, and I just look generally unhealthy. My apartment is trashed, but I’m not going to clean it up. I think I need someone else to see what I’ve been through. These past few days have NOT been normal. I am not one to imagine things. I know I have been the victim of extreme probability. I probably missed seeing another person a dozen times. I just happened to go out when it was late at night, or the middle of the day when everyone was gone. Everything’s perfectly fine, I know this now. Plus, I found something in the closet last night that has helped me tremendously: a television! I set it up just before I wrote this, and it’s on in the background. Television has always been an escape for me, and it reminds me that there’s a world beyond these dingy brick walls. I’m glad Amy’s the only one that responded to me after last night’s frantic pestering of everyone I could contact. She’s been my best friend for years. She doesn’t know it, but I count the day that I met her among one of the few moments of true happiness in my life. I remember that warm summer day fondly. It seems a different reality from this dark, rainy, lonely place. I feel like I spent days sitting in that playground, much too old to play, just talking with her and hanging around doing nothing at all. I still feel like I can go back to that moment sometimes, and it reminds me that this damn place is not all that there is… finally, a knock on the door! — I thought it was odd that I couldn’t see her through the camera I hid between the two soda machines. I figured that it was bad positioning, like when I couldn’t see out the front door. I should have known. I should have known! After the knock, I yelled through the door jokingly that I had a camera between the soda machines, because I was embarrassed myself that I had taken this paranoia so far. After I did that, I saw her image walk over to the camera and look down at it. She smiled and waved. “Hey!” she said to the camera brightly, giving it a wry look. “It’s weird, I know,” I said into the mic attached to my computer. “I’ve had a weird few days.” “Must have,” she replied. “Open the door, John.” I hesitated. How could I be sure? “Hey, humor me a second here,” I told her through the mic. “Tell me one thing about us. Just prove to me you’re you.” She gave the camera a weird look. “Um, alright,” she said slowly, thinking. “We met randomly at a playground when we were both way too old to be there?” I sighed deeply as reality returned and fear faded. God, I’d been so ridiculous. Of course it was Amy! That day wasn’t anywhere in the world except in my memory. I’d never even mentioned it to anyone, not out of embarrassment, but out of a strange secret nostalgia and a longing for those days to return. If there was some unknown force at work trying to trick me, as I feared, there was no way they could know about that day. “Haha, alright, I’ll explain everything,” I told her. “Be right there.” I ran to my small bathroom and fixed my hair as best I could. I looked like hell, but she would understand. Snickering at my own unbelievable behavior and the mess I’d made of the place, I walked to the door. I put my hand on the doorknob and gave the mess one last look. So ridiculous, I thought. My eyes traced over the half-eaten food lying on the ground, the overflowing trash bin, and the bed I’d tipped to the side looking for… God knows what. I almost turned to the door and opened it, but my eyes fell on one last thing: the old webcam, the one I used for that eerily vacant chat with my friend. Its silent black sphere lay haphazardly tossed to the side, its lens pointed at the table where this journal lay. An overwhelming terror took me as I realized that if something could see through that camera, it would have seen what I just wrote about that day. I asked her for any one thing about us, and she chose the only thing in the world that I thought they or it did not know… but IT DID! IT DID KNOW! IT COULD HAVE BEEN WATCHING ME THE WHOLE TIME! I didn’t open the door. I screamed. I screamed in uncontrollable terror. I stomped on the old webcam on the floor. The door shook, and the doorknob tried to turn, but I didn’t hear Amy’s voice through the door. Was the basement door, made to keep out drafts, too thick? Or was Amy not outside? What could have been trying to get in, if not her? What the hell is out there?! I saw her on my computer through the camera outside, I heard her on the speakers through the camera outside, but was it real?! How can I know?! She’s gone now – I screamed, and shouted for help! I piled up everything in my apartment against the front door – Friday At least I think that it’s Friday. I broke everything electronic. I smashed my computer to pieces. Every single thing on there could have been accessed by network access, or worse, altered. I’m a programmer, I know. Every little piece of information I gave out since this started – my name, my email, my location – none of it came back from outside until I gave it out. I’ve been going over and over what I wrote. I’ve been pacing back and forth, alternating between stark terror and overpowering disbelief. Sometimes I’m absolutely certain some phantom entity is dead set on the simple goal of getting me to go outside. Back to the beginning, with the phone call from Amy, she was effectively asking me to open the door and go outside. I keep running through it in my head. One point of view says I’ve acted like a madman, and all of this is the extreme convergence of probability – never going outside at the right times by pure luck, never seeing another person by pure chance, getting a random nonsense email from some computer virus at just the right time. The other point of view says that extreme convergence of probability is the reason that whatever’s out there hasn’t gotten me already. I keep thinking: I never opened the window on the third floor. I never opened the front door, until that incredibly stupid stunt with the hidden camera after which I ran straight to my room and slammed the door. I haven’t opened my own solid door since I flung open the front door of the building. Whatever’s out there – if anything’s out there – never made an ‘appearance’ in the building before I opened the front door. Maybe the reason it wasn’t in the building already was that it was elsewhere getting everyone else… and then it waited, until I betrayed my existence by trying to call Amy… a call which didn’t work, until it called me and asked me my name… Terror literally overwhelms me every time I try to fit the pieces of this nightmare together. That email – short, cut off – was it from someone trying to get word out? Some friendly voice desperately trying to warn me before it came? Seen with my own eyes, don’t trust them – exactly what I’ve been so suspicious of. It could have masterful control of all things electronic, practicing its insidious deception to trick me into coming outside. Why can’t it get in? It knocked on the door – it must have some solid presence… the door… the image of those doors in the upper hallway as guardian monoliths flashes back in my mind every time I trace this path of thoughts. If there is some phantom entity trying to get me to go outside, maybe it can’t get through doors. I keep thinking back over all the books I’ve read or movies I’ve seen, trying to generate some explanation for this. Doors have always been such intense foci of human imagination, always seen as wards or portals of special importance. Or perhaps the door is just too thick? I know that I couldn’t bash through any of the doors in this building, let alone the heavy basement ones. Aside from that, the real question is, why does it even want me? If it just wanted to kill me, it could do it any number of ways, including just waiting until I starve to death. What if it doesn’t want to kill me? What if it has some far more horrific fate in store for me? God, what can I do to escape this nightmare?! A knock on the door… — I told the people on the other side of the door I need a minute to think and I’ll come out. I’m really just writing this down so I can figure out what to do. At least this time I heard their voices. My paranoia – and yes, I recognize I’m being paranoid – has me thinking of all sorts of ways that their voices could be faked electronically. There could be nothing but speakers outside, simulating human voices. Did it really take them three days to come talk to me? Amy is supposedly out there, along with two policemen and a psychiatrist. Maybe it took them three days to think of what to say to me – the psychiatrist’s claim could be pretty convincing, if I decided to think this has all been a crazy misunderstanding, and not some entity trying to trick me into opening the door. The psychiatrist had an older voice, authoritarian but still caring. I liked it. I’m desperate just to see someone with my own eyes! He said I have something called cyber-psychosis, and I’m just one of a nationwide epidemic of thousands of people having breakdowns triggered by a suggestive email that ‘got through somehow.’ I swear he said ‘got through somehow.’ I think he means spread throughout the country inexplicably, but I’m incredibly suspicious that the entity slipped up and revealed something. He said I am part of a wave of ‘emergent behavior’, that a lot of other people are having the same problem with the same fears, even though we’ve never communicated. That neatly explains the strange email about eyes that I got. I didn’t get the original triggering email. I got a descendant of it – my friend could have broken down too, and tried to warn everyone he knew against his paranoid fears. That’s how the problem spreads, the psychiatrist claims. I could have spread it, too, with my texts and instant messages online to everybody I know. One of those people might be melting down right now, after being triggered by something I sent them, something they might interpret any way that they want, something like a text saying seen anyone face to face lately? The psychiatrist told me that he didn’t want to ‘lose another one’, that people like me are intelligent, and that’s our downfall. We draw connections so well that we draw them even when they shouldn’t be there. He said it’s easy to get caught up in paranoia in our fast paced world, a constantly changing place where more and more of our interaction is simulated… I have to give him one thing. It’s a great explanation. It neatly explains everything. It perfectly explains everything, in fact. I have every reason to shake off this nightmarish fear that some thing or consciousness or being out there wants me to open the door so it can capture me for some horrible fate worse than death. It would be foolish, after hearing that explanation, to stay in here until I starve to death just to spite the entity that might have got everyone else. It would be foolish to think that, after hearing that explanation, I might be one of the last people left alive on an empty world, hiding in my secure basement room, spiting some unthinkable deceptive entity just by refusing to be captured. It’s a perfect explanation for every single strange thing I’ve seen or heard, and I have every reason in the world to let all of my fears go, and open the door. That’s exactly why I’m not going to. How can I be sure?! How can I know what’s real and what’s deception? All of these damn things with their wires and their signals that originate from some unseen origin! They’re not real, I can’t be sure! Signals through a camera, faked video, deceptive phone calls, emails! Even the television, lying broken on the floor – how can I possibly know it’s real? It’s just signals, waves, light… the door! It’s bashing on the door! It’s trying to get in! What insane mechanical contrivance could it be using to simulate the sound of men attacking the heavy wood so well?! At least I’ll finally see it with my own eyes… there’s nothing left in here for it to deceive me with, I’ve ripped apart everything else! It can’t deceive my eyes, can it? Seen with your own eyes don’t trust them they… wait… was that desperate message telling me to trust my eyes, or warning me about my eyes too?! Oh my god, what’s the difference between a camera and my eyes? They both turn light into electrical signals – they’re the same! I can’t be deceived! I have to be sure! I have to be sure! Date Unknown I calmly asked for paper and a pen, day in and day out, until it finally gave them to me. Not that it matters. What am I going to do? Poke my eyes out? The bandages feel like part of me now. The pain is gone. I figure this will be one of my last chances to write legibly, as, without my sight to correct mistakes, my hands will slowly forget the motions involved. This is a sort of self-indulgence, this writing… it’s a relic of another time, because I’m certain everyone left in the world is dead… or something far worse. I sit against the padded wall day in and day out. The entity brings me food and water. It masks itself as a kind nurse, as an unsympathetic doctor. I think it knows that my hearing has sharpened considerably now that I live in darkness. It fakes conversations in the hallways, on the off chance that I might overhear. One of the nurses talks about having a baby soon. One of the doctors lost his wife in a car accident. None of it matters, none of it is real. None of it gets to me, not like she does. That’s the worst part, the part I almost can’t handle. The thing comes to me, masquerading as Amy. Its recreation is perfect. It sounds exactly like Amy, feels exactly like her. It even produces a reasonable facsimile of tears that it makes me feel on its lifelike cheeks. When it first dragged me here, it told me all the things I wanted to hear. It told me that she loved me, that she had always loved me, that it didn’t understand why I did this, that we could still have a life together, if only I would stop insisting that I was being deceived. It wanted me to believe… no, it needed me to believe that she was real. I almost fell for it. I really did. I doubted myself for the longest time. In the end, though, it was all too perfect, too flawless, and too real. The false Amy used to come every day, and then every week, and finally stopped coming altogether… but I don’t think the entity will give up. I think the waiting game is just another one of its gambits. I will resist it for the rest of my life, if I have to. I don’t know what happened to the rest of the world, but I do know that this thing needs me to fall for its deceptions. If it needs that, then maybe, just maybe, I am a thorn in its agenda. Maybe Amy is still alive out there somewhere, kept alive only by my will to resist the deceiver. I hold on to that hope, rocking back and forth in my cell to pass the time. I will never give in. I will never break. I am… a hero! ==== The doctor read the paper the patient had scribbled on. It was barely readable, written in the shaky script of one who could not see. He wanted to smile at the man’s steadfast resolve, a reminder of the human will to survive, but he knew that the patient was completely delusional. After all, a sane man would have fallen for the deception long ago. The doctor wanted to smile. He wanted to whisper words of encouragement to the delusional man. He wanted to scream, but the nerve filaments wrapped around his head and into his eyes made him do otherwise. His body walked into the cell like a puppet, and told the patient, once more, that he was wrong, and that there was nobody trying to deceive him.

They Came with the Tide (creepypasta)

A gentle breeze pushed through the screen and tickled my short black hair against my forehead. All the windows were open, but I knew I would have to close them soon, it seemed like a down pour would start momentarily. The waves pushed and crashed against the boats and dock just outside. I began to go around closing the windows, not sure if there were any procedures I had to follow if it began rained; I had only been working here at the Marina for three days. My radio beeped and shook me from my tranced state, “Sean, you there?” I knew the rough voice anywhere, “Yeah Ron, what’s up?” Ron had never failed to surprise me. I knew just by his complexion when I saw him he was a veteran, but still, the stories he told rattled me to the core. “I’m coming in, it’s about to rain,” he grumbled in the usual gravelly voice. I chuckled to myself, it reminded me of Batman. “Alright, doors unlocked.” I set the radio down and peered out the glass door leading onto the docks. There, I saw Ron, slowly limping because of his bad knee. He had told me about the injury and said it was from a grenade but refused to go into detail. I made him and myself a cup of coffee as the rain began to come down. We both sat and I continued to look out the window, waiting for the work day to come to an end. Lately, storms had plagued this side of the bay, causing the tide to rise and bring floods. “Looks like the Marina is going under again,” Ron said breaking the silence as he glanced at the rising water. “Hopefully not too much this time,” I took a sip of the coffee, “last time it was up to our knees.” “Your knees,” he corrected me and chuckled his raspy laugh. He had always enjoyed making fun of my under average height. “Hey, at least my eyes aren’t as grey as my hair,” I grinned and we both snickered. The tide slowly rose as the day went on; Ron had decided he would cut his work day short since it was far too flooded to work on the boats. I stayed, hoping at least one customer would show up since we also sold beer and cigarettes. For a long while I stared out the window before I noticed something on the other side of the boatyard. Past the bobbing ships, I saw a man. He was kneeling beside a dead bird. I gagged thinking of bad it must smell and why this man was even near it. Slowly, he reached down and picked it up by the legs, blood trickled down its neck and dripped to the ground. I stood and walked over to the window, staring at him, disgusted, but very curious. Suddenly he snapped his head towards me, causing my legs to go limp and nearly fall backwards when I saw him. What I believed to be his face had no features, any exposed skin seemed completely out of focus. His clothes, however, were clearly visible. The polo he wore was stained a sickly green color. The longer I looked at him the more nauseous I felt. I forced myself to look away from the misty complexion. Slowly rubbing my eyes I looked back up through the window. Streams of rain snaked down the glass. The “man” and bird were gone. Not a trace that I could see was left. An open field stood all around the area they had been. The only place he could have gone was the water, which seemed to have risen an unusual amount. I instantly called Ron in a panic. He answered, clearly annoyed by my phone call on his break. “What do you want?” He grumbled. “I have no idea,” I blurted without thinking, “this guy picked up a dead bird and just ran away with it.” “Why is this problem, Sean?” There was a pause as I thought about it. Somehow, I knew it wasn’t natural and not just my mind playing tricks on me, but I sure didn’t want him thinking I was mentally insane. “See? There’s no problem. Just some weirdo,” he reassured me in a calmer tone. We both hung up and I went back to my duties, sitting in a chair and hoping I wouldn’t see that scene again. The hours passed and the rain continued to fall. There was no sign of anyone or anything so I decided to close up for the day. I grabbed my things and made my way down the aisles, setting the alarm and stepping outside. The rain pounded my head as the keys slipped around in my hand, finally making it to the door. Locking it, I began walking to my car, already soaking and in no rush. As I walked I began to slowly notice figures, all standing perfectly still with their backs to me. The same pounding feeling in my head returned, matching the rapid beats of my heart. Taking slight glances around me I counted five of them. Somehow, they hadn’t caught my attention moments ago; I failed to see them when I was locking the door. They all stood next to the ever rising tide, their ankles half submerged in the water. The clothes they wore didn’t seem to be drenched like mine were; everything about the situation unfolding bothered me. Before I knew it, I was in a full sprint across the parking lot. Water splashed my legs as I ran and clicked the button on my keychain, unlocking the doors to my car before I could grip the handle. I pushed myself into the front seat, bashing my head against the door causing the pounding feelings in my head to seem like grenades exploding. Horror fell into the pit of my stomach, and as the tide rose, they advanced—growing closer and extinguishing the feeling of safety my car provided. My breathing became strained and tears began to sting my eyes. The ignition refused my many attempts to start the car and escape whatever horrors were approaching. Opening the door, I stepped back out into the rain. I made a quick dash back to the store. Fumbling for my keys, I jammed them into the lock and swung the door open. Not thinking about the alarm, I slammed the door and hurried behind the counter. I heard the light beeps as the system prepared to scream for help, being too scared to move, I simply sat and waited. A piercingly loud alarm was raised within a mere few seconds, something accompanied it though, something I couldn’t explain. Peering out the window I saw one of the figures, hands on the sides of its head and mouth wide open. An unhuman shriek came out from between the black, glossy, jagged teeth scattered around in its mouth. I ducked back behind the counter, a legion of screaming creatures surrounding me and the tide continuing to rise. After what seemed like forever they finally stopped. Slowly, I peeked out the window once again and saw the tide, rippling from raindrops, now even higher, but without the creature. Two bright headlights approached the store and a truck came skidding to stop, none other than Ron jumped out, shotgun in hand. “What did you do this time!?” I heard him yell from outside. I pressed my fingers to my lips and hissed, “Get in here!” “I don’t know what’s going on, but if I came down here for nothing I’ll-“ I could hear the air being forced from his lungs as his body lurched forward—the same out of focus creature from earlier standing behind him. Ron stumbled a few feet before regaining his balance and swinging around, his skin clearly becoming pale as he glared at the creature. Its hand flinched as if it were about to grab Ron. Without hesitation, he fired. Pellets speckled the green polo, but the creature didn’t so much as move; the surface of its skin rippled and shimmered like water after being struck with a stone. “Run!” I screamed at him, but before the word could leave my mouth he was already in a sprint toward me, his limp greatly hindering his speed. The shotgun clattered against the pavement and the creature began its pursuit. They got so close to the store I could hear the strained gasps as Ron tried to flee inside. Again, the creature lunged at him, this time they both crashed to ground and came skidding to a stop inches in front of me. I grabbed his wrist and yanked him halfway through the door frame before a strong resistance came from his other side. A look of suppressed agony was painted on his face; the creature had grabbed him by his injured leg. A firm tug jostled one of his wrists free from my grasp. For the first time, I could see Ron with a look of true terror in his eyes, “p-please—don’t let go.” The tone of his voice shook me deeper than any of his stories ever could. There was a light pop as his leg gave way and the agony plastered on his face echoed through the Marina. I tripped and fell forward, scraping my hands as I caught myself. Ron was being dragged away when I looked up—his knee twisted at an unnatural angle. He shrieked, clawing the pavement trying to slow his decent into the water. I forced myself up off the ground and darted after him. My feet splashed through the water as I chased the duo. Ron was being dragged through the water like a heavy sack, his leg suspended in air by the creature. A light trail of red swirled in the water as the skin on his back was tore apart by the cement. The adrenalin began to wear off and I became more aware of my surroundings; water splashed against my chest and I realized just how deep I had gone into the water. Panic leaked through my body as my mind took me back ten years. I could almost remember the exact feeling as water filled my lungs; the sun became darker and more distant as my exhausted twelve year body sank to the bottom the pool. A chill ran down my spine and I forced the memory out of my mind, Ron no longer flailed about in the water. His body seemed limp and his arms floated behind him. Tearing my eyes from the scene I turned back and got out of the water as quickly as I could, retreating back into the store. The alarm had become a simple background noise; I focused more on the threats that caused it to sound in the first place. Knowing they would converge on the store I found a place to hide, two small cabinets in the furthest corner from the water seemed like my best option. I climbed in and waited—seconds, minutes, hours passed by as I sat there. The rain had slowly stopped and by what I could tell from the small crack in door nobody had come inside. My heart pounded like a drum line as I pushed my way out of the hiding spot. The moon sliced through the dissipating clouds and reflected off the now calm water. Slowly—cautiously—I made my way down the seemingly endless aisle to the door. I could already tell the tide had gone down drastically. The parking lot was how I had left it, Ron’s truck and my car were parked a short distance from the store and the shotgun lay untouched in the headlights. Making my way around the store I saw them, hundreds of the creatures making a hazy, unfocused wall along the tide. One by one they melted back into the water, their cloths going under with them. A slight feeling of relief washed over me as they and the water fell back into its usual place, though the feeling was quickly overtaken by something stronger—pure dread. Not over the fact that Ron was gone, not that everybody would never believe a single thing I tell them, but I knew I would see them again—I knew I would see Ron again. There was one thing, no matter how hard I tried, I knew I could never change—they came with the tide.