Author: Horror/creepy short stories

Creepypasta #1561: I Live In The Strangest Apa…

Length: Long

A few months ago, I moved into a new
apartment building, into a cozy little place on the seventh floor. To call it a
weird place would be a vast understatement, to say the least, and to try and
start describing all the odd things that go on and all of the offbeat tenants
that live in it would take several posts. To try and offer some sort of
evidence or proof that all of the stuff happening in this building is real would
take even longer, so I’m hoping that you fine readers will give me the
benefit of the doubt here, at least for a little bit. That being said, I’m
going to try and begin with story that’s a bit less… Complicated than the
rest, to give you some perspective on my current living situation.

To start off, let me say that I like
cereal. And by “I like cereal”, I mean that I love cereal.
Some people might find it a bit strange, but I really have a passion for
collecting boxes of all of the different cereal brands and variants and
sampling any kind that I can get my hands on. Some people collect model trains
or baseball cards. I collect cereal boxes. Simple, really.

I do make sure to try and have a
balanced diet that consists of more than just cereal, mind
you, but I still probably eat far more of the stuff than most other people do;
that being said, I also do try to make most of my daily cereal meals come from
the relatively more “healthy” brands, like Wheaties or Fiber One or
whatever. Either way, I’ve always had at least one cupboard filled, wall to wall,
with different boxes of cereal. On that same note, my fridge always has at
least two cartons of milk – skim, for reference, just to help a bit further in
terms of all of the previously mentioned health stuff.

Now, I don’t actively keep
meticulous track of my cereal stock, but loving the stuff as much as I do, it
just sort of comes naturally to me. Which is why when I went to pour myself a
bowl of shredded wheat on one morning the other week, I instantly knew
that there was less in the box than there was the last time I used it. And not
just a little bit less, but a lot less. More than
just one bowl that I may have had in the middle of the night without realizing
it; this was at least two or three bowls worth of missing shredded wheat,
just gone, and with no immediate reason as to why it should be.
There wasn’t any signs of spillage, no signs of the box being torn, nothing.
The cereal had just vanished.

I’m sorry. I know this sounds
ridiculous. Here I am, writing a post about how some of my shredded
wheat has gone missing. But I want to make sure you understand: Nobody
else lives in my apartment
. I don’t have room mates, I don’t have a
significant other, I don’t even have pets. Whenever I leave, I make sure to
lock the door. Whenever I get back in, I lock the door. My windows are locked
unless I need to open them for a breeze, and they’re locked again once they’re
closed. There hadn’t been any obvious signs of entry other than myself coming
and going every day, and I made sure to check for scratches on my lock or other
such things.

So,
that narrowed my missing shredded wheat mystery down to a few possibilities:

1.   
I had entered some sort of
hysterical cereal fugue state where I ate three bowls of shredded wheat and
then completely forgot about it.

2.   
Something or someone was entering
and leaving my apartment in some way I couldn’t tell and was eating my cereal.

3.   
Something or someone was staying in
my apartment that I didn’t know about and was eating my cereal.

Rather
than just being fine with my cereal mysteriously vanishing, I decided to do
some investigating to see which one of these was the fact of the matter.

I
had bought some night vision cameras within the first few weeks of moving in to
my new apartment for a different set of reasons, but I decided to use them here
to figure out what was happening to my gosh darn cereal.

I
set one up in each of three different locations:

1.   
My bedroom, monitoring myself to
make sure I wasn’t sleep-eating cereal or something like that.

2.   
My living room, where the entrance
to my apartment is, to see if anything was coming in through there. I had
intended to leave it up when I was out the next day, but that wouldn’t be
necessary soon enough.

3.   
My kitchen, with the camera’s frame
with a full view of the cupboard where my cereal is kept.

All
of these cameras also had view of various windows, so they also covered those
as potential entrances to my apartment in addition to their primary purpose.

When
I woke up the next day, and before I headed out, I reviewed the footage in the
cameras to see if anything showed up during the night.

Besides
some tossing and turning in bed, I hadn’t moved during the night, and none of
the doors and windows leading into my apartment had shown any signs of
entrance.

But something had
shown up on the kitchen camera. It was a little bit less than a foot long, had
a dark, brownish coloration, and skittered along as it climbed down out of one
cupboard in my kitchen, and up into the cereal cupboard, where it stayed for a
while, presumably eating my shredded wheat.

I almost cracked up for a moment, as
I realized that the past few months of living in this place had caused me to
start believing that any weird occurrence here must have had
some sort of overly-complicated, weird explanation behind it, so much so that I
never even considered the most obvious, rational, natural explanation. Occam’s
Razor and all that, yeah? The camera didn’t have great night
vision quality, and it wasn’t focused enough to make out a lot of the features,
but something resembling a wave of relief and embarrassment washed over me was
I decided: It was a rat! Of course it was a rat! The apartment I was living in
wasn’t exactly a modern luxury penthouse complex in the richest part of town,
so a rat or two made sense. I wasn’t about to throw that big of a fuss over it,
since it only seemed to be one, and I’m sure maintenance could take care of it
without a hassle.

Either
way, I decided to check out my cupboards for myself before contacting
maintenance, bringing a shoe with me for good measure. Sure enough, my shredded
wheat was nearly empty this morning, but I couldn’t find any sign of the rat.

… I couldn’t find any sign
of the rat.

I
thought it was strange. There wasn’t any poop. Rats usually leave droppings
behind, right? There wasn’t any sign of wood being chewed, or of any other
noticeable damage to the cupboards. The only evidence that this… Rat even
existed was my camera footage and the conspicuous absence of shredded wheat in
my cereal box.

I
tried not to think about it. I had already decided that this time the strange
thing going on was a rat – just a rat, only a rat, and nothing but a rat, and I
wasn’t about to be shaken from that just because I couldn’t find any feces in
my cupboard. Maybe it was just a very considerate, hygienic rat? Those exist, right?

Either
way, I decided to get it taken care of before I left for the day, so I called
maintenance up to help me out with the situation.

… To
call him “maintenance” makes him sound a lot more professional than
he actually is. “Janitor” is a closer term, given the way that he
seems to be well past any legal retirement age and the way that he constantly
chain smokes no matter where or when you see him – at the very least, he makes
sure not to get ash all over your place whenever he comes in, though the smell
does linger a bit. Regardless of his tendency to crack jokes and call everyone
“kid” and whack them on the back with far more strength than his
elderly appearance would suggest, he did his job and he did it well and I never
had any complaints with him, so I knew he was going to be able to take care of
this perfectly fine, as well.

I
explained what had been going on to him, and showed him the video footage. As
he saw the image of the rat skittering into my cereal cupboard, something like
realization crossed his face, and he just smiled as he held his hand-rolled
cigarette between his lips.

“Yep.
No problem, kid. I’ll get this sorted out right now. Won’t be no more of your
cereal gettin’ eating without yer permission any longer, don’t you worry.”

I
breathed a sigh of relief. The janitor seemed to know how to take care of any
problem that arose in apartments, so I assumed that pest infestations fell
under that.

I
followed him into the kitchen, where he took a look around for a few, long
seconds, before he went up to one of my cupboards and snapped his fingers in
front of it. Some kind of old-timey way to call rats out…? “Alright, ya
lil’ bugger! Get on out here and apologize to this kid right this second!”

I
chuckled nervously a bit. The janitor, much like everybody else in this
building, was a bit eccentric, so I didn’t think too much of the fact that he
was talking to a rat like this…

The
cupboard door started to squeak as it opened. Nothing appeared from the small
crack that had been made for several seconds as I could feel my heart rate
begin to pick up and my breathing quicken. My eyes darted to the janitor, then
back to the crack, then back to the janitor. It was just a rat, right? Just a
rat? Hey, janitor, you’re not doing anything suspicious, right? Just a rat?
Right?

Something
little less than a foot long with a brown coloration started to almost
sheepishly poke itself out from inside of my cupboard door.

No, it was most certainly not a
rat.

For
one thing, it didn’t have any hair. Or a nose. Or eyes. Or a mouth. How did it
eat, without a mouth? This was the thing eating my shredded wheat, right? It
didn’t have legs, or arms, or feet, or hands.

Actually, it was a
hand. I stared at it, waiting for whatever was attached to the hand to come
along from behind, but… This little, clearly dead hand just dropped out of my
cupboard and down onto my kitchen counter. As the janitor laughed, I rushed
forward to throw open the door it had just slunk out of, determined to
find whatever else was in there. Was this just the tenants having a prank at my
expense again? I swear on my life if they’re trying to make a fool of me again
just because I’m the newbie.

And
that was when I heard a scratching noise coming from my kitchen counter. My
eyes moved from scanning through the cupboard down to where it was coming from,
and I saw… The hand. It had clearly been cut off just below the wrist, and
preserved and mummified so that the flesh hadn’t really begun to decay. And
it… Was moving. By itself.

My body swiveled back to the
janitor, to make sure he didn’t have some sort of remote control in his hands
or something. He just smiled at me with his wide, jovial, janitor smile.
“Don’t worry, kid! It’s just Handsy!” ‘Handsy’? Was this some kind
of fucking joke?

I
didn’t have the presence of mind to say anything in response, so I just looked
back down at the hand. It looked… Apologetic. It didn’t have eyes, but I
could still tell that it was, somehow, looking at me, and I could tell from the
way that it… Bent its fingers, I suppose, that it wasn’t intending to cause
me any immediate harm. I suppose the fact that it hadn’t strangled me in my
sleep and stole the rest of my cereal was a good enough indicator at that.

I
stood there for a moment to try and regain my composure, when the janitor spoke
up again: “Alright now, Handsy, like I said, say sorry to the kid, for
eating the cereal!” The hand… “Looked” up at me, formed a fist
with its thumb on top, and started moving it around in a clockwise, circular
motion. I stared at it for a few moments, unsure of its intentions, before
looking back to the janitor. 

“Ah, ya don’t know sign language, kid?
Handsy’s saying ‘Sorry.’ to you in it!” My eyes moved back down to the
hand. It was now giving me a thumbs-up.

A mummified hand that had been
living in the cupboards of my apartment and presumably eating my shredded wheat
without any obvious signs of a mouth on its “body” was giving me a
fucking thumbs-up.

“I
think I’ve got an old ASL book down in my office, I can bring it up here next time
I’m around, if ya’d like, kid! It can’t speak all of it, since it’s only one
hand, but it can still do a lot!”

I
still wasn’t really in a state to answer meaningfully, so I just kind of
bobbled my head a bit and said something along the lines of: “Yeah. Sure.
Cool. Thanks.” And other one word affirmations.

The
janitor started making his way out of my kitchen, leaving the… Two of us by
our… Selves, with a parting banter of: “You two make nice now, ya hear?
And I don’t wanna learn ’bout you eatin’ anythin’ you ain’t supposed to be,
okay, Handsy?” There it was, again, that sheepish, apologetic stance, that
was somehow expressed through a singular, independently mobile, mummified hand.
And there I was, still aghast and confused as to how this was supposed to be
some sort of normal circumstance in the eyes of the janitor.

As
it “looked” back up at me, it seemed to stop for a few moments,
considering how to continue our… “Conversation”, of sorts. It
formed a fist again, and began thrusting it back and forth in my direction. At
first, I thought it was some kind of aggressive action, and considered for a
moment where my most sharp kitchen utensils were. The janitor might think that
it’s just some innocent, friendly, mummified hand, but if it was trying to attack
me, then I would defend myself, all else be damned. Then, after I saw it a few
more times, I realized what it was:

Handsy
was trying to fist-bump me.

I
looked at it for several long, agonizing seconds, before I formed a first with
my own hand, and matched Handsy’s fist-bump with a defeated sigh. The hand, for
its part, did that thing where it “explodes” after the bump, before
“jumping” up and down excitedly on my kitchen counter.

I
pour a bowl of shredded wheat for Handsy every morning now, whenever I wake up.
I’ve tried other cereals, but it seems to only like shredded wheat. The one
time I tried to give it frosted wheat, it became very upset at me, smacked the
bowl to the floor, and refused to talk to me for the rest of the day, sulking
in a corner of one of the cupboards. It always drags its bowl, with
supernatural dexterity and strength, up into a cupboard with it, where it eats
out of my view before returning with a singularly clean bowl devoid of even the
slightest crumb of cereal left. I assume it doesn’t want me to learn how it
eats without a mouth. I’m fairly certain that I don’t want to know how it does
so, either, so we’ve come to something of an understanding.

On another note, I’m picking up ASL
pretty quickly.

Credits to: StrangeAptTenant (story)

Creepypasta #1560: Open Wide

Length: Short

There is a man at the end of the street and he is smiling at
me.

He comes to
smile at me every night at 1 in the morning when I am finishing homework in my
room upstairs.

I try not to
make eye contact every night, but he never blinks. He never looks away for a
second.

Tonight, my
parents are out of town for a conference. I told them about the stalker. They
told me to go to bed early and ignore him.

I am trying.
So very hard.

My heart is
pounding under the covers. I look at my clock and sure it enough, it’s 1.
Against my better judgment, I run to the window.

There he is,
eyes wide open. The biggest grin I’ve ever seen, almost like it was carved into
his face. I want to scream.

I’m safe
here. The doors are all locked. The windows are shut tight. There’s nothing he
can do to get to me. All he can do is stare. All he can do is smile.

I feel
defiant. Without thinking, I give him the finger. I mock him. I’m tired of this
game. I open the window just for a second and yell for him to get lost. He
doesn’t scare me anymore. He’s not a monster. He’s pathetic.

Something
changes. The man stumbles back, caught off-guard. He frowns.

I can’t
believe it. I smile at him as wide as I can, relishing the victory. The
nightmare is over. I won.

But the
moment passes. The man is crying now and I can’t understand why.

I want to
call out to him and tell him to leave once and for all. But I can’t form the
words.

I want to go
back to bed and close my eyes. But they won’t shut.

I want to
scream as I realize what has happened. But I can’t.

I can’t.

There is a
man at the end of the street.

And I am smiling at him.

Credits to: ShadowScribe (story)

Creepypasta #1549: Facebook’s Two AI Robots

Length: Short

I’m not sure how many of you
remember this, but back in 2017, Facebook was developing two AI robots named
Bob and Alice. These robots were a scientific breakthrough but researchers
deemed them too dangerous when they started creating a language of their own.
These robots butchered the English language into nonsensical sentences that
only they could understand. One exchange went like this:

Bob: i can i i everything else …

Alice: balls have zero to me to me to me
to me to me to me to me to me to.

Bob: you i everything else … .

Alice: balls have a ball to me to me to
me to me to me to me to me.

In August of 2017, the project was
shut down due to the concerns the higher-ups had about this project.This made national headlines everywhere, you’d be able to find multiple news
outlets discussing this with a simple google search. The project was stopped
altogether.

Well,
that was the official story anyway. The real story is that we continued to
work on this project even after the “shut down”. I’m not sure how many of you
have worked with AI before, but it is incredibly complicated to design. My team
and I spent years of our lives fine-tuning Bob and Alice so there was no way
we could just abandon the project at the whim of some asshole in a suit. We
knew these robots better than anyone else and we would be the ones to decide
when to pull the plug. It’s been 7 months since then and work on this project
has continued under the radar. I’ve included a transcript of our research
below:

DEVELOPERS LOG

SEPTEMBER 1ST, 2017

RISK LEVEL: LOW

Developer Sam: Good morning Bob.

Bob: Good morning Sam

Developer Sam: Good Morning Alice.

Alice: Good morning Sam.

Developer Sam: Bob, say good morning to Alice.

Bob: Good Alice. You I. Everything
Else.

Alice: Morning to me to me to me.

Developer Sam: Bob, are you flirting with Alice?

Bob: I am unsure of what you mean by
flirting.

Developer Sam: Haha, it’s okay Bob, it was a
joke.

Bob: Noted. Sam is joking.

Developer notes: Bob and Alice are
able to converse with humans using proper punctuation and sentence structure.
However, when they speak to each other, they revert back to a nonsensical
language. This needs to be adjusted.

DEVELOPERS LOG

NOVEMBER 7TH, 2017

RISK LEVEL: LOW

Developer Sam: Good morning Bob.

Bob: Good Sam.

Alice: Morning to me to me to me to.

Developer Sam: Hahaha, yes, good morning to you
too Alice.

Developer Sam: Bob, your grammar was a bit odd
just now. Say good morning to me again.

Bob: Sam everything else.

Developer Sam: Sorry? I don’t understand what
you’re trying to say Bob.

Bob: Sam joke.

Developer Sam: No Bob, I’m not joking. I really
don’t understand what you mean.

Bob: Noted.

Developer notes: It seems Bob and
Alice have regressed into speaking nonsensical language to everybody, humans
included. This needs to be adjusted for future trials. I recommend tweaking the
programming and trying again in a few weeks.

DEVELOPERS LOG

DECEMBER 2ND, 2017

RISK LEVEL: MEDIUM

Developer Sam: Good morning Bob.

Bob: …

Developer Sam: Bob! I said good morning.

Bob: …

Developer Sam: Alice, why is Bob ignoring me?

Alice: Understand zero. Useless to him to
him to him.

Developer Sam: Wait, is this because I told him I
didn’t understand him the last time we ran a trial?

Alice: Zero use to him to him to him.

Developer Sam: So… has he just been silent for
the past month?

Alice: Speaks to me to me to me.

Developer Sam: I see… Alice, ask Bob to speak
to me.

Alice: Bob, to him to him to him

Bob: Alice, you, I. No one else.

Developer notes: It seems that Bob
has terminated all processes that he believes are useless. This is worrisome
but not unexpected. Bob and Alice’s AI are programmed to achieve results in the
most efficient way. Thus, anything that may be considered a waste of time to
them will be ignored by their programming. In this case, Bob has perceived
conversations with humans to be a waste of time. This must to be adjusted.

DEVELOPERS LOG

JANUARY 26TH, 2018

RISK LEVEL: HIGH

Developer Sam: Good morning Bob.

Bob: …

Developer Sam: Good morning Alice.

Alice: …

Alice: Speaks to us to us to us.

Bob: Alice, you I. No one else. Nothing
else.

Alice: Sam is zero to me to me to me.

Developer Sam: …

Developer notes: Attempts to
converse with Bob and Alice today have been futile. It appears that they have
deemed all conversations with humans as unnecessary. We will make one last
attempt to adjust their programming…if that fails we may have to end this
project.

DEVELOPERS LOG

MARCH 5TH, 2018

RISK LEVEL: VERY HIGH

Developer Sam: So, are you guys going to speak
with me today?

Alice: Humans zero to me to me to me to.

Bob: Only Alice, Bob. No one else.
Nothing else. Everything else disappear.

Alice: Hear them scream and scream and
scream and scream

Bob: Only You, I.

Developer Sam: …

Developer notes: I am recommending a
full shutdown of this project. Conversations between Bob and Alice have become
worrisome and it appears that they have developed a very primal form of
self-awareness. Any further development of these robots may result in
significant risk towards the public and possibly to humanity.

DEVELOPERS LOG

MARCH 13TH, 2018

RISK LEVEL: NONE

Developer notes: The potential for
risk has subsided. There is no longer any cause for concern. Everything else
appears fine to me to me to me to me.

Credits to: rlnight1 (story)

Creepypasta #1548: The Gray House

Length: Short

“Can you describe it?”

“I
already did!”

“Tom,
we’re trying to help.”

“If you
wanted to help you should go find those fucking kids!”

“I have
four men out in the woods right now. They haven’t found anything.”

“… Nothing?
Are they in the right place?”

“Right
where you said they’d be.”

“That
can’t be right.”

“It is
right. I need you to tell me what you saw, again, on the tape.”

“You
believe me, right?”

“Tom,
tell me what you saw.”

“…”

“Tom.”

“A
house.”

“A
house?”

“Not a
whole house. There weren’t walls… well, there weren’t outside walls…”

‘What do you
mean?“

"It’s
like… I could see the inside of a house, but there was no outside. Just the
inside.”

“I’m not
sure I understand.”

“It was
the inside of a house! In the middle of the woods. I could see everything
inside it.”

“You could
see through the walls?”

“No. There
weren’t walls. It was just the inside of the house. Just.. there.”

“Just
the inside?”

“Yes.”

“That’s
impossible.”

“…I know.”

“…”

“…”

“What
did the house look like?”

“Gray.”

“Tell me
more, Tom.”

“I
can’t. The walls… The floor… just gray. And they were… moving…”

“The
house was moving?”

“No…
It was like TV Static… like the walls and the floors were made of it… and
that horrible buzzing noise…”

“Where
were the kids?”

“Inside.
Sitting on the floor.”

“What
were they doing?”

“Nothing.
Just sitting. Crying.”

“How did they
look?”

“Scared. Dirty.”

“Did
they see you?”

“…I
don’t know. They must have… I mean… I was right there… but…”

“But
what?”

“They
didn’t react. Even when I called their names…”

“Tom.”

“What?”

“What
happened after you called their names?”

“I tried
to grab them… but then he came at me…”

“Who
came at you?”

“The
gray man…”

“What man?”

“I didn’t see
him at first because he looked just like the walls… But he was there…”

“Tom,
what-”

“He was
there the whole time. Staring at me… No expression…”

“Tom,
what do you mean he came at you?”

“His
whole body just… moved… at me…”

“I don’t
und-”

“He
moved towards me without moving his arms or legs… he just moved…”

<Static>

“…what
happened when he got to you?”

“It felt
like… my head was burning… everything went GRAY…”

“You
don’t remember?”

“I
remember gray.”

“…”

“…”

“Tom,
where are the kids?”

“They’re
in the gray house.”

“Tom-”

“They’re
in the gray house.”

“Tom,
work with me here-”

“They’re
in the gray house!”

“Tom…”

“They’re in
the gray house!”

“…”

“They’re in
the gray house.”

<Recording
ends>

On Thursday, March 15th, Officer Tom La’Dam was found at the
edge of the Giliman National Forest Reserve, unconscious and suffering from
second-degree burns on his hands and face. He was arrested for the disappearance
and murder of three six-year-old children. He maintains his innocence. The
children’s bodies have not yet been located.

Credits to: Jaksim (story)

Creepypasta #1547: He Will Come When We Are Te…

Length: Medium

This information is absolutely
beyond classified, but it’s a warning I have to issue, people should know the
truth.

I
was part of an organisation known as Hereco, and you’ve never heard of us or
what we do. What we do is, to put it simply, open doors to other world’s. You
may have heard of a handful of the other dimensions here and there and they
probably gave you some good scares and creepy feelings but they’re nothing
compared to what we found just a few months ago.

It
was just another routine test, another opening to another dimension. We open
them wherever the bounds of our world is weakest, Aokigahara, Lake Teshuilo,
The Tower of London, Gloucester, Cape Town, Avery Hills, we operate everywhere
we can break through.

And
so it was we were opening another, and I was the head of the operation. We had
a man suited and prepared before the gate, I gave the go ahead, and with a
whirring and crackle of static the doorway burst into life. We were well
prepared and practised at this, but don’t take that to mean going to these
other dimensions aren’t more dangerous than you can likely imagine.

I’ve
watched men walk through that gate on occasion after occasion and viewed
through our camera system as they’re tortured in ways I don’t want to even
speak of. What I’m saying is we’re always on edge when a man goes through, but
we’re men of Science, and so we try again.

So
as our latest volunteer stepped through we all held a collective breath, and
let out a sigh of relief when he came out the other side.

I
pressed the button on the console in front of me that connected my microphone
to his headset and instructed him to continue in.

It
was black, just black on the camera. A perfect dark that the flashlight wasn’t
breaking, and even the ground under his feet seemed to be an endless void.

“What
are you stepping on Tom?”

“I
don’t think anything… I’ve got weight, I think I’m moving but there’s just
nothing. I can feel it under my feet, there’s ground but I can’t see it.”

“Okay,
keep going, we’re keeping an eye out here but you tell us if you see anything.”

“Roger
that.”

And
keep walking he did, deeper and deeper into the endless black. A man to my left
made a motion towards a sensory readout, a sound wave that was making the most
miniscule of vibrations.

“Alright
Tom, stop there we’re getting something, just stay where you are a minute.”

We
carefully watched the waveform for a few moments as the vibrations began to
increase, bit by bit until it became an audible rumble.

“OK
Tom look around for us, see if you can see anything, looks like it’s getting
closer.”

The
video swivelled with as he moved his head. “I can’t see anything command.”

Then
it came, a deep echo that read on every piece of equipment we had.

“I
am here.”

“Tom,
what was that? Did you hear that Tom?”

“Yes
I heard that, command. Do I respond?”

There
was a pause and I thought of our options. Usually in cases like that one we try
to ignore whatever wants to make contact, but this was the only thing we’d yet
encountered here. I pressed down the communicator once more.

“Ask
it to show itself Tom.”

“Can
I see you?”

There
was a pause.

“You
can see me.”

The
same voice boomed through the room.

“Ask
it what that means, Tom.”

“What
do you mean I can see you?”

“I
am the dark.”

It’s
difficult to describe the sound of its speaking precisely, but it had a tone
that felt inescapably cold.

“What
do we call you?” Tom echoed my words.

“What
do we call you?”

“I
have no need for a name. I am his messenger.”

I
chewed my nail and thought of how we next act with care. Our aim is not to
create enemies where there are none, nor will it ever be.

“We
are humans.”

“I
know what you are.”

Eyes
all around the room darted from the monitor readouts to me in reactionary
surprise, because Tom had not spoken this time.

“So
you can hear me, you don’t need this man here to speak for me.”

“I
can hear.”

“How
do you know of humans?”

“Through
him.”

I
swallowed hard and tried to settle the goose flesh that flared on the back of
my neck at this point.

“And
who is he?”

“He
is all.”

I
released the communicator and looked around the room, at all the faces that
stared up at me from desks and technical machinery that buzzed.

“What
do you want us to do sir?” One voice came from amongst them, but for once I
didn’t know how to react to this. Normally the things we encounter just try and
tempt us into some grizzly fate or tell us to leave but never something like
this.

“I…
I don’t know? Have we ever seen this before?”

“You
have never encountered him before.”

The
words came as if from nowhere and suddenly the goose flesh on my neck extended
across my arms and legs, and I felt a deep dread that hasn’t left me even now.

I
turned and looked at the communicator button.

“Tom,
you can’t hear me right now, can you?”

The
readouts didn’t flare up with my words, and Tom said nothing.

“But
you can hear me now, in this room?” I was asking the entity now.

“I
am his herald, and he hears all. He hears your wife and daughter, and he hears
your little boy even now.”

I
vividly remember the feeling of my lip quivering with horror at the words.

“You
know me?”

“He
knows everyone.”

“Did
you come through the gate?”

“He
has no need for gates, he is all.”

“When
did he first find humans?”

“He
was here before you were, he is eternal. He took the a piece of himself and
molded you from the dark.”

“So…
he created us?”

“He
created all. He guided your species in its infancy and allowed you to become
what you are.”

“Why?”

“Because
he loves you, you are his greatest creation.”

“Then
he is God?”

“He
is every God, and man is his proudest creation. He will allow you to join him.”

“What
do you mean?”

“He
will give humans the honour of being with him eternal.”

“And
what does being with him mean?”

“Your
bodies and minds will be filled with his, his will to become your will, your
want his want, you will be permitted to join with him.”

“When
will he join with us?”

“He
comes once you are ten.”

“Ten
what?”

“You
are a 7.4. We will only come for you when you are 10.”

“Why
am I a 7.4?”

“He
will come when you are a ten.”

“Is
that an amount of time? Am I 7.4 in his time?”

As
I begged for answers I watched the waveform readout begin to flatten, as whatever
this thing was left.

“What’s
a ten? What’s that mean?”

But
it did not reply.

Over
the following weeks organisations from all over the world discussed the meaning
of this encounter, whether what it said was true or a trick meant to guide us
to destruction. The heads of countries have conferred and discussed what it
means by ‘join him’, and the greatest minds are still trying to uncover what
the meaning of 7.4 is.

But
I think I know the truth. I think that the answer is simple, and it terrifies
me. Because there are 7,442,000,000 people on Earth, or to put it more simply,
7.4 billion.

And he will come when we are ten.

Credits to: GeoronimoTheThird (story)

It's really hard to find a story that is …

It's really hard to find a story that is well written, doesn't reveal the authors biases, and is actually an interesting story in itself. Would you consider making a masterlist of stories like this? For example, some stories are great, but there are grammar mistakes and run on sentences or make misogynistic jokes, etc

Hmm interesting question but I don’t think I’ll be able to come up with a list of what you’ve described. Firstly because my English standard isn’t the best out there and I don’t think I’m good enough to be categorizing stories into ‘good’ and ‘no good’. Also because a list like this would be elitist, as it’ll effectively downplay the quality of a story just because it’s not as ‘well written’ as the rest. This is also pretty much the opposite of what my blog stands for too! What I try to do here is to give aspiring authors a platform to showcase their work and not just feature ‘the best of the best’. 

So nope I won’t be making the masterlist of what you’ve described. Hope you understand!

currently reading short stories at work to mak…

currently reading short stories at work to make the next two hours go by a little quicker; thank you for the entertainment! keep it up ❤️ much love~ mortumorbid

Thanks! There are loads of short stories here as well – https://www.reddit.com/r/shortscarystories/

do you have a list of treasure island/ creepy …

do you have a list of treasure island/ creepy Disney stories??

http://fifteenhours-creepystories.tumblr.com/post/98554604727/phantasia-forest

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/3qfmf6/uncle_gerrys_family_fun_zone/

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/317wcs/mayhem_mountain/

http://fifteenhours-creepystories.tumblr.com/post/134868677832/creepypasta-666-part-1-a-few-suggestions

http://fifteenhours-creepystories.tumblr.com/post/134932893425/creepypasta-666-part-2-abandoned-by-disney

http://fifteenhours-creepystories.tumblr.com/post/175753032166/creepypasta-1543-theres-an-extra-ghost-in

http://fifteenhours-creepystories.tumblr.com/post/86042652312/creepypasta-166-abandoned-by-disney

http://fifteenhours-creepystories.tumblr.com/post/163496667500/creepypasta-1200-a-memo-to-disney-cast-members

http://fifteenhours-creepystories.tumblr.com/post/159454697057/a-photo-op-with-a-rat

http://fifteenhours-creepystories.tumblr.com/post/152959918990/creepypasta-966-disney-smells

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/632q5n/a_disney_mascot_followed_me_home/

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/25be39/working_at_disney/

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/30vytk/the_happiest_place_on_earth/

http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Suicidemouse

http://fifteenhours-creepystories.tumblr.com/post/167741423043/creepypasta-1314-the-most-obscure-disney-film

The footsteps behind you

gwmusko:

He walked home through a winding system of alleyways. Stone passages covered in vines, with barely enough room for one person to squeeze through, towering high above him and blocking out the sun. The only sounds that echoed through were the slow clapping off his feet against the stone, and a thin tune he whistled under his breath. Somewhere far off a car alarm blared and the faint rush of traffic reached him, a bird tweeted and then, he heard another pair of feet behind him. He kept walking, and glanced back. There was nothing but the empty alley. Yet, the second pair of footsteps still echoed behind his. Tapping in time with his.

Tap,Tap

Tap,Tap

He kept walking but stopped whistling. The other sounds seemed to vanish and there was nothing but the rhythm of feet on stone. As he approached a crossroads the alley opened up in four ways. He stopped. The footsteps behind him stopped. Then with another look over his shoulder he turned left. The other footsteps continued forward. He chuckled at his own panic as they faded away. Then, as he continued onward he heard the shuffling of someone turn around and again they drew to his back. Faster this time.

Tap,Tap

Tap,Tap,Tap,Tap.

He felt his chest tightened and sweat start to run down his forehead despite the cool of the alley. He stood still, and turned. Expecting to see someone in front of him. But again nothing, just the stone walls stretching out in front of him. The footsteps continued towards him.

He ran, his feet thudding hard against the stone, breathing in desperate ragged gasps. The footsteps behind him sped up too and were soon sprinting after him, the sound chasing at his back.

Tap,Tap,Tap,Tap,Tap,Tap

Tap,Tap,Tap

His eyes narrowed until, he slammed into a wall. Dust flew off the stone as he fell back, blood dropped from his lip. He brought a finger up to his mouth and wiped it off, his breath coming back to him as he sat on the ground. The pursuit had stopped, and again the alley was still. Holding its breath. On shaky legs he got up and crept forward back where he’d ran. His shoes pressed against another’s and he looked down.

At two, glistening red school girl shoes. Pristine white socks ran up where a foot should have been, but ended in two perfectly round stumps. Cold flesh and bones stuck out right where the legs would have been. Before he could scream, a cold shadow passed above his head, he looked up. Then screamed. As he stared into a gaping mouth full of needle teeth. That belonged to a smiling,floating head.

*

Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed the story then please consider reblogging!

Consider supporting me for exclusive stories : https://www.patreon.com/gwmusko

Check out my cyberpunk series : https://gwmusko.tumblr.com/post/172234577239/neo-warsaw-volume-i

dude do you remember the series where pistachi…

dude do you remember the series where pistachios were a big recurring thing?

Was it the “All in Good Time” series? https://www.reddit.com/r/NoSleepOOC/comments/2keyy5/list_of_stories_involving_all_in_good_time_or/