Category: short

Creepypasta #1589: Antropolove

Length: Short

There is something wrong with my boyfriend.

I cannot
exactly pinpoint what, but something is definitely off.

He’s just too
perfect.

Every
morning, when I wake up, I open my eyes only to look at his radiant face as if
he had been up and about for hours, his breath mint fresh and his hair
artistically tousled.

Moreover, the
way he moves seems so limber, so fluid, so sprightly, whereas I trudge clumsily
behind him, desperate to make my stiff movements match his vivacious pace.

He’s also
gorgeous, hypnotically so: sometimes, I sit and zoom in on his beautiful
flushed face as he’s playing video games, only to snap out of this trance when
he gets up, unable to compute how long I have been sitting there without
moving.

Since I have
met him, I find myself unable to focus on anything else than him or his
well-being and I’m starting to feel like blowing a fuse if I don’t get any
answers soon.

As I change
the sheets of our bed to distract myself, I wonder if I should venture outside.

I never leave
the house without him, because he doesn’t like it and I don’t feel safe when
he’s not around to steer me and help me circumnavigate the consequences of my
own clumsiness.

So, I
carefully scan the view from my bedroom window, but I am instantly paralysed by
dread.

Maybe it’s
time for a nap, I often nap, but I never feel quite reenergised when he’s not
resting next to me, heaven knows why.

My hand
mechanically smooths out the sheets on the right side of the bed, caressing the
pillow he lies upon night after night, when, moving on to my side of the bed, I
hit my knee against something hard and flat, protruding from under the
mattress.

It’s an
inductive charging pad, like the ones you’d see for phones, only this one is
much bigger.

And it’s tucked away under the left side of the mattress.

Credits to: MissLunaKitty89 (story)

Creepypasta #1588: Warning From A Voyeur

Length: Short

I know what people think when they hear “voyeur”, and to be
honest, I don’t really care. I’ve never been palatable to most people, and most
people haven’t been palatable to me. They’re loud, rude, obnoxious, and think
way too highly of themselves. I can’t really fathom being around, much less
talking to one of those pompous asses.

That being
said, I do like watching them.

Seeing how
they act, how they behave when they think no one can see them. It’s quite a
rush. But don’t misunderstand me, I’m no treetop climbing pervert. I do most of
my watching in public.

I won’t bore
you with the intricate details of how exactly I do that, nor will I attempt to
justify myself to your, no doubt, numerous objections to my behavior. No, all
I’m going to do is leave you with a warning… actually, more of a suggestion.

Do a little
watching of your own.

Not to the
extent that I do, but just… for a few days, pay extra attention to your
friends, family, and coworkers. If you’re thorough then you’ll start noticing
things you weren’t able to before. Like how some people have really good
posture, how you only ever see some people at a particular place, how some
“people” can always seem to find you wherever you are…

How some people never seem to blink.

Credits to: CommanderSection (story)

Creepypasta #1586: This Is Not A Snuff Film

Length: Short

“This is the police! Please open up.”

I knock again
and call out to the inhabitant of the warehouse. Scuffled footsteps sound from
the other side of the door, which creaks open to reveal a young man wearing a
goatee and newsboy cap.

“Um…what’s
the problem?” he mutters nervously. “Officer…?”

“Yates” I
scowl. “I’m afraid we’ve received reports from several neighbours- of loud
screaming and chainsaw sounds- coming from this warehouse.”

The
squirrelly man’s eyes widen in panic.

“Okay, I know
what this looks like, but you don’t understand!” he pleads. “I’m just directing
a small indie horror movie. We even put up a sign! Look- see?”

He points
animatedly to a placard, scrawled with permanent marker and blu-tacked to a
lamppost.

Filming in progress! Please excuse
any disturbing sounds coming from the premises for the following week. No, this
is not a snuff film. Thanks.

My brows furrow
sceptically.

Riiight. Sir, I’m going to
need take a look inside…”

“Sure, by all
means-” stammers the director, stepping aside compliantly.

Venturing
into the building, it quickly becomes apparent that the man’s story checks out.
There’s a series of film cameras, light fixtures and boom mics set up around
the room, and even a craft services table. Meanwhile, the handful of actors
scroll absentmindedly through their phones, costumes spattered with red corn
syrup.

“Micky,
what’s going on?” yawns one of the cast, a prosthetic arm hanging off his real
one.

“It’s
nothing, Hugh, just some noise complaints.”

I pick up the
chainsaw on the table and inspect it under the fluorescent light. From its
weight, I can tell that it’s genuine.

“Are you
aware” I ask sternly, “that using a real chainsaw on these premises is a safety
code violation?”

“Uh no,
officer, I-I didn’t” Micky stutters. He exchanges worried glances with his
peers.

“Look, I’m
not going to write you up today, alright? You know, I actually really relate to
what you folks are doing here.”

“And…why’s
that, officer?” inquires Micky, confused.

Poor kid. He
never should have put that sign up.

Grinning, I
finally break character and unzip the police jacket that I stole from the
murdered cop. It falls to the ground, revealing beneath it the blood-flecked
singlet of a seasoned killer. As the metal killing-machine revs to life in my
hands, the group start to back away in fear.

“See, Micky, I’m something of an actor myself…”

Credits to: GuyAwks (story)

Creepypasta #1585: Catcalling Is Gross

Length: Short

I was driving around town with my
roommates, a few guys I had found on Craigslist who were going to the same
school as me. They were frat guys without a frat, and I was desperate to fit in
with them, to fit in anywhere, and I knew this could be my
only shot.

So there I
was, sitting in the backseat of Danny’s car, watching them shout at girls from
the windows.

“Hey! Nice
ass!” shouted Tom. The girl kept her head down and didn’t respond, so he called
out again, “Slut!”

All the guys
laughed. I chuckled, too, to look like I belonged.

“Hey,
sugartits!” screamed Mike. This girl shot him a look of disgust and flipped him
off. That only made everyone laugh harder.

“Okay, Ian,
your turn!” said Danny, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

I froze. I’d
never catcalled a girl before.

“C’mon, what
are you, chicken?” asked Mike.

“Dude, you
don’t want to be a nerd, do you?” sneered Tom.

I had been a
nerd all my life. I certainly didn’t want to be one again now.

I spotted a
girl. She was pretty – long brown hair, freckles, a yellow sundress. She looked
blankly ahead, lost in her thoughts.

I didn’t know
what to yell. So I tried, “Hey, girl, lemme see your insides!”

The car was
silent for a moment before everyone started roaring with laughter.

“What-what
was that?!” asked Tom, breathless.

“Dude, you’re
so nasty,” said Danny, but I could see him shooting me an approving look in the
mirror.

Mike was
laughing too hard to say anything.

I grinned,
feeling like I’d impressed the guys. We passed the girl and she stared at me.
She didn’t avert her eyes, she didn’t yell back at us, she didn’t gesture. She
just watched me with those blank eyes. A shiver went down my spine. She
continued watching me until the car went around a corner and we were out of
sight.

Then I forgot
all about her.

Danny used
his fake I.D. to buy us some shitty beer and we went back to our apartment to
chill. Eventually, the guys drank enough to pass out and I crept off to my own
bed, feeling a little from the alcohol.

I fell asleep
as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I woke up
early in the morning, unsure what had disturbed me. It was still dark and the
moon was hidden behind thick black clouds. I couldn’t see anything around me.
But I could hear something.

Slick. Slick. Slick.

It sounded
wet. Groggy, I reached for my bedside lamp and switched it on.

The girl from
the street was standing there, staring at me. She had cut herself open from
stem to stern, peeled her flesh back, and was slowly pulling out her intestines.

Slick. Slick. Slick.

She paused at
my look of horror. Then she kept pulling, speaking to me softly.

“What? Isn’t this what you wanted to see?”

Credits to: sleepyhollow_101 (story)

Creepypasta #1583: A Friendly Neighborhood

Length: Short

Every night this past week, I waved to my neighbor before
going to sleep, since his bedroom window was right across from mine. He always
had something new in his hands to show me, smiling from ear to ear like a kid
at show and tell. I laughed and clapped as he displayed his treasures for me,
whether it was a new shirt or a golf club or a stack of dollar bills. He always
looked sad when I said good night.

Tonight,
however, was different. When I went to the window, the man wasn’t waiting for
me. He was running around the bedroom like a lunatic, tossing his treasures
around into bags like his life depended on it. I got worried. I hoped he was
OK.

That’s when
the car pulled into the driveway. A couple with a pair of suitcases got out and
walked to the front door, the husband sticking his keys into the lock. It
opened.

I froze. The man was at the window, staring at me, holding a
gun across his lips. Even when he hid in the corner and turned out the lights,
I could still see him. Smiling from ear to ear.

Credits to: ShadowScribe (story)

Creepypasta #1581: Tibetan Singing Bowls CD (5…

Length: Short

Please read the following before playing the CD:

1.   
Find a quiet place to sit
comfortably. Keep your back straight but not rigid.

2.   
Do not try to control your
breathing. Breathe naturally.

3.   
Allow any distracting thoughts to
pass before bringing your attention back to your breath.

4.   
Set a timer. Ensure you cease
meditating once it goes off.

5.   
Skip any tracks with voices. All tracks
on this CD are instrumental.

6.   
Upon ending a session, you may find
an open door in the room has closed. Do not open this door ever again.

7.   
Do not fall asleep while listening
to the CD.

8.   
Do not leave the room while the CD
is playing.

9.   
If you hear a track end with soft
laughter, stop meditating and leave the room.

10. 
Should you- for no good reason-
suddenly believe you are no longer alone, keep your eyes closed. Ignore her
voice.

11. 
While meditating to the CD, it’s not
uncommon to experience sensations of vibrating appendages. This is perfectly
normal.

12. 
While meditating to the CD, it’s not
uncommon to experience sensations of tingling skin. This is perfectly normal.

13. 
While meditating to the CD, it’s not
fully unheard of to feel shaking hands on your back. If you do, run.

14. 
Upon opening your eyes, do not talk
to anyone in the room who wasn’t there when you closed your eyes.

15. 
Avoid congregations of religious
worship such as churches and synagogues for no less than three weeks after each
CD session.

Credits to: BaronVA (story)

Creepypasta #1580: The Girl In The Back Of The…

Length: Short

From
what I have been able to research, the fear of a “monster in the
closet” is generally an irrational one.

Unfortunately,
the terror that follows me is firmly planted in reality and it is a nightmare
that I have existed with my entire life.

My first
memory of her is one of my earliest recollections.

It’s hard to forget something so traumatic.

When I was just a small girl, barely the age of five, I was alone in my
bedroom. My aunt had given me a game of connect four recently, and the fun of
playing the game with my cousin was still fresh in my mind. My mother had
tidied up my room after our play date and had stored the board game in the back
of my closet. I remember approaching the closet door very vividly. It was an
old oak door, with a bronzed, engraved knob. I reached out and turned the knob,
eager to pull the game out and play it on my own.

My eyes
scanned the closet, peeking through my shirts, dresses, and dolls. Something
gleamed unnaturally in the dark, just behind my toy chest. I paused, uncertain-
but curious- as to what undiscovered treasure lurked among my toys.
I pressed myself into the closet, shifting the dresses along their hangers,
greedy and excited for something new to play with. When my mind registered what
I was seeing, I took a step back, pulling away from the closet.

Squatting
behind the chest was a girl a little older than me.

Her skin was a pale shade of yellow; a color that as an adult, I now recognize
as one of decomposition. Her brown hair was matted with dirt and swarming with
insects.

Her mouth was an empty maw, with it’s teeth missing and the roots exposed.

Her eyes shined though. The corneas gleamed an unnatural shade of white.

She attempted to pull her lips into a smile. A black liquid oozed from her
lips.

I
shut the door at that point. I ran downstairs to my mother, screaming and
crying.

When my
mother came upstairs and investigated the closet, she found nothing out of the
ordinary.

Isn’t that how these things normally go?

I could
never again open a closet door on my own without seeing the girl crouching in
the back of it.

It didn’t matter what closet door I opened, or what home I moved to.

She was always there, waiting for me, and trying to force a smile on her
shattered face. It almost felt like she wanted me to play a game with her.

I
realized fast that this was not something I could share with others. She would
never be waiting there when I tried to expose her to my friends and family.

I’ve
learned to live my life without the use of closets.

I rarely have guests over because my personal items litter my home. Everything
I need is well within reach for me, as cluttered as things are. I decided it
was safer to not push my luck and expose myself to her when unnecessary.

However,
tonight, I am in trouble.

I awoke to the sounds of crashing coming from downstairs. I went carefully down
my stairwell, and I saw a large, threatening looking man roaming my living room. He looked up at me on the stairs and sneered.

Then
he charged towards me.

I ran.

I panicked.

On
defensive instinct, I ran into my bathroom and locked the door. He’s roaming
around on the top floor and he’s going to get to the bathroom soon. I’ve called
the police, but they’ll need time to get here.

It doesn’t seem like he’s going to let up before the cops get here.

Of
course, there’s one more place that I could try to hide.

I
slide the closet door open and see an unholy shine of those glazed white eyes.

She finally pulls her lips into a
full smile as I close the closet door behind me.

Credits to: ImANormalDude (story)

Creepypasta #1579: Look.

Length: Short

My alarm goes. This is the proud announcement that heralds
the birth of a new day: a thick, screeching cacophony.

Fuck off, I
think. I turn to the abhorrent device. The tone is cold, heavy and jarring. It
pushes. It is as though my eyes are being physically repelled from the display.
3.AM. I have not set it to wake me up at 3.AM, obviously.

I slam my
hand on the instrument, ending the torture. I slump back onto the bedsheets,
gazing up into the shapes my mind conjures onto the textured blankness of the
ceiling. My room is oppressively large. I have never noticed this before.
Looking around, I can barely see the corners. Among the piles of folded
clothes, I cannot tell blackness from darkness.

Suddenly,
light. The bedside cabinet casts a weak glow on the ceiling. My phone is
probably notifying me of some trivial record, a person’s vapid shell which has
interacted with mine in an immaterial and inconsequential world. I seize the
device all the same.

National Government This is an open message from your government officials.
Do not, under any circumstance, look at the moon. Do not ask why.

National Goverment REPEAT: Do not look at the moon. REPEAT: Do NOT
look at the moon. It is essential that this is carried out without question.
REPEAT—

What the fuck
is this? Why should I—

The text
messages make no sound. No noise, no vibration, nothing but the pulsation of
pixels upon the screen give them their voice.

07374636736 Wooow, the sky is beautiful tonight..

Unknown ID The moon is so beautiful, LOOK at it….

Unknown ID The moon is pretty, look.. look into the sky and
you’ll see..

08999957997 Wow the sky is amazing tonight, look at it now

Unknown ID the moon is wonderful, LOOK. NOW.

Hundreds upon
hundreds of texts and calls are flooding in. I drop the phone, push it away. Is
this some kind of joke? The government messages persist at the top of the
cascade of calls and messages. A shiver seizes me. I grab the phone and swipe a
caller.

“Hello? Who
is it?”

I hear
nothing.

“Why are you
calling me? Is this some kind of joke?”

The voice is
polite, shuddering in coldness and audibly spoken through a grin. “The moon is
so pretty, don’t you think? Have a look, tell me what you think. It looks
magnificent tonight. Have a look.”

I hang up. I’ve had enough. What
the fuck is going on? I go to the curtains and throw them
open. Nothing out of the ordinary. As usual, the puny light of the streetlamps
is incomparable to the radiance of the moon, of course. Nothing is so mighty,
so beautiful, so magnificent. Trust me. It is wonderful. The moon tonight is
the most beautiful thing you will ever see. Trust me. Have a look. Look up into
the sky. It is so magnificent. The moon is so beautiful tonight.

Look.

Credits
to: Spireheist (story)

Creepypasta #1577: The Hair In Your Neck

Length: Short

When did that get there?

The human
body can be weird and unpredictable, tiny anomalies that sprout out and random
occurrences that seem almost like glitches in the grand scheme of its inner
workings.

Like that
lone hair, sticking out of your neck.

It had
probably been there for days, but you’ve only just noticed it now while doing
your teeth.

A dark strand
you could hardly feel, but as soon as you knew it was there it became a burn
overwhelming everything else, you HAD to get rid of it.

Some deft
tweezer work later and it’d gone.

4 days later
another one, in the same spot.

You rolled
your eyes at this minor, inconsequential annoyance.

You got rid
of it and forget it after an hour.

A week after
that, another one in the same spot.

The process
repeated.

Annoyed
exhale.

Tweezers.

Plucked.

Forgotten
about.

That was a
fortnight ago.

And, right on
cue as you prepare for bed you spot it again.

You grab the
tweezers and pull, but get surprised at the resistance you feel.

A hard yank
and it’s out.

Well, that
part is, but now it’s a small string leading back into your neck.

So you yank
again, winding your arm back to reveal more hair unspooling out of that tiny
hole.

It’s about
30cm long.

Your eyes
widen and your breath gets faster.

How long can
it be? What’s going on?

You pull
again, and again, like you’re removing stitches.

That was 5
minutes ago.

There’s nearly
2 meters of fine hair draped around your arm and seeping out of your neck, but
there seems to be no end to it.

What is it
doing?

What is it
doing inside of you?

There’s a
voice crying in your head.

“Cut it,
go to bed and see a doctor tomorrow”

But you know
you won’t be able to sleep. Who would?

In fact
you’re no longer tired. You feel a rush of adrenaline and shock propping you on
your feet.

Nothing else
matters now. Everything else can wait.

So you pull.
And you pull.

And you pull.

And you pull.

And you pull.

And you pull.

Credits to: MoGhulisMoProblems (story)

Creepypasta #1576: The Door Was Locked

TRIGGER
WARNING: IMPLICATION OF SUICIDE

Length: Short

The door was locked.

It was a
standard white bathroom door. Brass knob. Turn the button to lock it. The same
kind of door that is repeated over and over again in every house of middle
class suburbia. The developers hadn’t even bothered to paint additional coats
of white over it when it was installed, just leaving on solely the primer that
came with it.

When she
locked herself inside, she hadn’t been sure if she managed to turn the button
far enough to lock it. Her fingers had been slippery from wiping away the tears
that were blurring her vision, and they were trembling

She quickly
found out that she had succeeded when the man reached the door.

He yelled and
pounded, making the door rattle in it’s frame, and fumbled with the knob which
refused to turn. She exhaled, and tried to catch her breath. He wouldn’t be
able to get in. She flashed a thin smile at herself in the mirror, and reached
into her purse.

Outside the
bathroom, the girl’s father beat his fists fruitlessly against the bathroom
door. He knew she was inside, about to open up her wrists and give up on this
world. Tears poured down his quaking cheeks.

The door was locked.

Credits to: bradventure93 (story)