Creepypasta Thread

you didn't search hard enough yo!

unless the other one got deleted cause there was some fucked up shit in it

wut

It got deleted.

carry on as you were

Another old one.

I first met in person with Mary E. in the summer of 2007. I had arranged with her husband of fifteen years, Terence, to see her for an interview. Mary had initially agreed, since I was not a newsman but rather an amateur writer gathering information for a few early college assignments and, if all went according to plan, some pieces of fiction. We scheduled the interview for a particular weekend when I was in Chicago on unrelated business, but at the last moment Mary changed her mind and locked herself in the couple’s bedroom, refusing to meet with me. For half an hour I sat with Terence as we camped outside the bedroom door, I listening and taking notes while he attempted fruitlessly to calm his wife.
The things Mary said made little sense but fit with the pattern I was expecting: though I could not see her, I could tell from her voice that she was crying, and more often than not her objections to speaking with me centered around an incoherent diatribe on her dreams — her nightmares. Terence apologized profusely when we ceased the exercise, and I did my best to take it in stride; recall that I wasn’t a reporter in search of a story, but merely a curious young man in search of information. Besides, I thought at the time, I could perhaps find another, similar case if I put my mind and resources to it.

Mary E. was the sysop for a small Chicago-based Bulletin Board System in 1992 when she first encountered smile.jpg and her life changed forever. She and Terence had been married for only five months. Mary was one of an estimated 400 people who saw the image when it was posted as a hyperlink on the BBS, though she is the only one who has spoken openly about the experience. The rest have remained anonymous, or are perhaps dead.
In 2005, when I was only in tenth grade, smile.jpg was first brought to my attention by my burgeoning interest in web-based phenomena; Mary was the most often cited victim of what is sometimes referred to as “Smile.dog,” the being smile.jpg is reputed to display. What caught my interest (other than the obvious macabre elements of the cyber-legend and my proclivity toward such things) was the sheer lack of information, usually to the point that people don’t believe it even exists other than as a rumor or hoax.

It is unique because, though the entire phenomenon centers on a picture file, that file is nowhere to be found on the internet; certainly many photomanipulated simulacra litter the web, showing up with the most frequency on sites such as the imageboard 4chan, particularly the /x/-focused paranormal subboard. It is suspected these are fakes because they do not have the effect the true smile.jpg is believed to have, namely sudden onset temporal lobe epilepsy and acute anxiety.
This purported reaction in the viewer is one of the reasons the phantom-like smile.jpg is regarded with such disdain, since it is patently absurd, though depending on whom you ask the reluctance to acknowledge smile.jpg’s existence might be just as much out of fear as it is out of disbelief. Neither smile.jpg nor Smile.dog is mentioned anywhere on Wikipedia, though the website features articles on such other, perhaps more scandalous shocksites as ****** (hello.jpg) or 2girls1cup; any attempt to create a page pertaining to smile.jpg is summarily deleted by any of the encyclopedia’s many admins.
Encounters with smile.jpg are the stuff of internet legend. Mary E.’s story is not unique; there are unverified rumors of smile.jpg showing up in the early days of Usenet and even one persistent tale that in 2002 a hacker flooded the forums of humor and satire website Something Awful with a deluge of Smile.dog pictures, rendering almost half the forum’s users at the time epileptic.

It is also said that in the mid-to-late 90s that smile.jpg circulated on usenet and as an attachment of a chain email with the subject line “SMILE!! GOD LOVES YOU!” Yet despite the huge exposure these stunts would generate, there are very few people who admit to having experienced any of them and no trace of the file or any link has ever been discovered.
Those who claim to have seen smile.jpg often weakly joke that they were far too busy to save a copy of the picture to their hard drive. However, all alleged victims offer the same description of the photo: A dog-like creature (usually described as appearing similar to a Siberian husky), illuminated by the flash of the camera, sits in a dim room, the only background detail that is visible being a human hand extending from the darkness near the left side of the frame. The hand is empty, but is usually described as “beckoning.” Of course, most attention is given to the dog (or dog-creature, as some victims are more certain than others about what they claim to have seen). The muzzle of the beast is reputedly split in a wide grin, revealing two rows of very white, very straight, very sharp, very human-looking teeth.

This is, of course, not a description given immediately after viewing the picture, but rather a recollection of the victims, who claim to have seen the picture endlessly repeated in their mind’s eye during the time
A re-imagination of the original image
Added by Bushcraft Medic
they are, in reality, having epileptic fits. These fits are reported to continue indeterminably, often while the victims sleep, resulting in very vivid and disturbing nightmares. These may be treated with medication, though in someses it is more effective than others.
Mary E., I assumed, was not on effective medication. That was why after my visit to her apartment in 2007 I sent out feelers to several folklore- and urban legend-oriented newsgroups, websites, and mailing lists, hoping to find the name of a supposed victim of smile.jpg who felt more interested in talking about his experiences. For a time nothing happened and at length I forgot completely about my pursuits, since I had begun my freshman year of college and was quite busy. Mary contacted me via email, however, near the beginning of March 2008.
To: jml@****.com
From: marye@****.net
Subj: Last summer’s interview
Dear Mr. L.,

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

You see, for fifteen years I have been haunted by smile.jpg. Smile.dog comes to me in my sleep every night. I know that sounds silly, but it is true. There is an ineffable quality about my dreams, my nightmares, that makes them completely unlike any real dreams I have ever had. I do not move and do not speak. I simply look ahead, and the only thing ahead of me is the scene from that horrible picture. I see the beckoning hand, and I see Smile.dog. It talks to me.
It is not a dog, of course, though I am not quite sure what it really is. It tells me it will leave me alone if only I do as it asks. All I must do, it says, is “spread the word.” That is how it phrases its demands. And I know exactly what it means: it wants me to show it to someone else.

And I could. The week after my incident I received in the mail a manila envelope with no return address. Inside was only a 3 ½ -inch floppy diskette. Without having to check, I knew precisely what was on it.
I thought for a long time about my options. I could show it to a stranger, a coworker… I could even show it to Terence, as much as the idea disgusted me. And what would happen then? Well, if Smile.dog kept its word I could sleep. Yet if it lied, what would I do? And who was to say something worse would not come for me if I did as the creature asked?
So I did nothing for fifteen years, though I kept the diskette hidden amongst my things. Every night for fifteen years Smile.dog has come to me in my sleep and demanded that I spread the word. For fifteen years I have stood strong, though there have been hard times. Many of my fellow victims on the BBS board where I first encountered smile.jpg stopped posting; I heard some of them committed suicide. Others remained completely silent, simply disappearing off the face of the web. They are the ones I worry about the most.
I sincerely hope you will forgive me, Mr. L., but last summer when you contacted me and my husband about an interview I was near the breaking point. I decided I was going to give you the floppy diskette. I did not care if Smile.dog was lying or not, I wanted it to end. You were a stranger, someone I had no connection with, and I thought I would not feel sorrow when you took the diskette as part of your research and sealed your fate.
Before you arrived I realized what I was doing: was plotting to ruin your life. I could not stand the thought, and in fact I still cannot. I am ashamed, Mr. L., and I hope that this warning will dissuade you from further investigation of smile.jpg. You may in time encounter someone who is, if not weaker than I, then wholly more depraved, someone who will not hesitate to follow Smile.dog’s orders.

Stop while you are still whole.

Sincerely,
Mary E.

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

I will admit that I was a little uncertain about how to respond to this. At first I thought perhaps it was a joke, with the couple belatedly playing with the situation in order to get a rise out of me. A quick check of several Chicago newspapers’ online obituaries, however, proved that Mary E. was indeed dead. There was, of course, no mention of suicide in the article. I decided that, for a time at least, I would not further pursue the subject of smile.jpg, especially since I had finals coming up at the end of May.
But the world has odd ways of testing us. Almost a full year after I’d returned from my disastrous interview with Mary E., I received another email:

To: jml@****.com
From: elzahir82@****.com
Subj: smile

Hello

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

(:

The final line chilled me to the bone.


This was the image included with the original creepypasta.
Added by Renzilla
According to my email client there was one file attachment called, naturally, smile.jpg. I considered downloading it for some time. It was mostly likely a fake, I imagined, and even if it weren’t I was never wholly convinced of smile.jpg’s peculiar powers. Mary E.’s account had shaken me, yes, but she was probably mentally unbalanced anyway. After all, how could a simple image do what smile.jpg was said to accomplish? What sort of creature was it that could break one’s mind with only the power of the eye?
And if such things were patently absurd, then why did the legend exist at all?
If I downloaded the image, if I looked at it, and if Mary turned out to be correct, if Smile.dog came to me in my dreams demanding I spread the word, what would I do? Would I live my life as Mary had, fighting against the urge to give in until I died? Or would I simply spread the word, eager to be put to rest? And if I chose the latter route, how could I do it? Whom would I burden in turn?
If I went through with my earlier intention to write a short article about smile.jpg, I decided, I could attach it as evidence. And anyone who read the article, anyone who took interest, would be affected. And even assuming the smile.jpg attached to the email was genuine, would I be capricious enough to save myself in that manner?


Could I spread the word?

Yes, yes I could.

these are the pictures that go along with the story

Threads.

fuck you. you motherfucker.

IS THAT ALL YOU FUCKING SAY FUCK YOU. Also creepy pasta is the shit

Well, fuck the Creepy.... thread didn't get deleted, I thought it did, I'll post another one though

Have you ever had an experience that suggested someone else was in your house, and just thought “I don’t wanna know” and left it? Sometimes, fear of the unknown just seems like the preferable option than facing a real, concrete danger. Normally it’s nothing, though. One time, the beeper function of my wireless housephone went off, when I was the only one home. It could only be called from the living room. Another time, I swear someone took some change from my desk. They’re all probably just slightly disconcerting tricks of the memory.

But what would you do when something truly suggestive happens? Would you run, or just ignore it, like I did?

Last Monday was a normal day. I got up, brushed my teeth, changed into school clothes… All little parts of my morning ritual. It seemed like it would be another totally un-noteworthy day, until I saw the strings.

There were three or four thick twine strings in my room. They criss-crossed between the walls around my bed, one attached to the door. No way would I have missed them before; I should have tripped over them. They were tied to pins in the walls, which had also not existed before ten seconds ago.

Nobody could have been in my room while I was in it, let alone set this up. It was early, and my brain wasn’t processing correctly. I simply discredited the sight, untied the strings and left for school, leaving them balled up on my desk.

It didn’t get any better later. Outside my house there were hundreds of them, tied between houses, around cars, across streets… This had to be some super elaborate prank. One of those hidden camera shows, or a comedy improv blog. They had gotten everyone else to play along too; passer-bys were tangled in them, tying them to objects they were walking towards and away from, as if they had been and were continuing to follow the course laid out for them.

I nervously continued my journey to school. On the bus, every except me was tied to the door. At school, groups of friends were tied to each other; teachers were tied to their desks and boards. Oddly enough, at this point all I could wonder was why I had been left out.

When my friend Lucy sat beside me in first period, she simply plonked her bag down on my lap and rested her chin in her hand, looking right past me to the window outside.

“Hey Lucy.”

No response.

“Come on, I didn’t expect you to be in on this too. “

She sighed and started taking books from her bag. All the books were tied to her hands. I grinned, and yanked one of the strings off a book. She didn’t seem to notice, instead simply disregarding the book completely, letting it drop to the floor without a moment’s hesitation.

“Um.” I leaned down, picking up her book and placing it back on her desk. She took no notice.

“Well, if that’s how we’re gonna play it.” I smiled, trying to look playful, but really just trying to hide my nervousness. I bundled all the strings attached to her together with one hand, then pulled them all free.
She blinked, turning to stare at me.

“Holy crap, Martin. You’re like a ninja or something.”

“I’ve been sitting here for maybe ten minutes.” I smiled again, relieved my friend had finally “noticed” me.

“Where did all these strings come from??” She gasped, seemingly noticing for the first time.
“I assumed you were all fucking with me…”

She stood up, backing into a corner. No one else in the class noticed.

“They weren’t here just a minute ago! Do you see them too??” Her tone made it clear she was genuinely scared.

“No. Didn’t you-. “ I was interrupted by my teacher slamming the door behind her. Everyone except me and Lucy murmured a good morning, and still, no one seemed to pay either of us any notice.
“People have been ignoring me all day.” I said to Lucy, before turning to our teacher. “Hey! Dumb bitch! You can’t teach for shit!”

No reaction.

“I’m getting away from all this shit.” Lucy pulled a few strings aside and left the class. I followed, and surprise-surprise, no one else noticed.

We wandered the corridors, leaving and entering classes as we saw fit. Whenever we untied a chair or book from someone else, it was like it suddenly didn’t matter to them. It didn’t exist.


I showed her the street outside; there were more strings than when I came in this morning. Twice as many. We carefully picked our way through the tangle, making our way to a nearby coffee shop. Not particularly grand, I know. But what would you do in our situation? As I said, fear of the unknown sometimes seems like the safer option. On a few occasions, I suggested we untie a few more people. Lucy was opposed to it, remembering how terrified she’d been.

In the coffee shop, we grabbed a couple of sandwiches and drinks from the fridge. We found a table, untied all strings attached to the chairs, and sat down. We both ate in silence, both of us too scared, both of us distracting ourselves by watching the strangers in the shop, oblivious to the strings.
After twenty minutes, Lucy spoke up. “Now she’s gonna take that sandwich.” She said, pointing at a woman across the shop. Sure enough, she walked to the fridge and took the plastic wrapped sandwich she was tied to. “She pays for it and leaves.” She did so, according to the prophecies of the strings. “That guy doesn’t intend to pay.” I watched as a man took his coffee and ran out of the store, the two servers just looking too exasperated to go after him.

“This is horrible.” She whimpered. “Let’s go. Please.”

Outside wasn’t much better. Everyone just followed the strings’ instructions, going about their daily lives. Lucy announced she was going home to sleep this off, and I agreed to walk her home. She only lived ten minutes away.

Away from the busier part of town there were fewer strings. It was nicer; we could pretend it wasn’t happening.

When we turned onto Lucy’s street, she stopped, her mouth falling open.

“What now?” I broke the silence, my voice sounding surprisingly small.

”Look.” She pointed outside one of her neighbours houses.

I saw it clearly, and I’ll take my memory of that moment ‘til the day I die. A little dark imp, maybe three feet tall, walking along with its knuckles on the ground, almost like a monkey. It had two bulbous yellow eyes taking up about half its face, and no mouth or any other facial features. It was holding a hammer and a ball of twine, which it was letting out behind it.

It walked quickly and quietly from the front door of the house to the mailbox. It stopped, hammered a nail into the side of the box, and tied it’s string around it. It turned to face us, and stopped when it spotted us.

My bottom fell out even further than it had already been, but it just stared with a look of surprise and curiosity. You could almost say it was the more frightened one. Suddenly, it beckoned to us with its tiny hand.

I looked at Lucy, she hadn’t moved. I looked back at the imp, which stared at me.
I halved the distance between us, and then halved it again. This wasn’t fear of the unknown anymore; it was fear of this little guy. Didn’t seem like anything to be scared of. When I was a meter away from it, it extended its hand.

“Uh. Hi.” I shook it. It nodded in approval, blinking its massive yellow eyes up at me.

“So you’re the ones in charge of the strings?” It nodded eagerly. I called Lucy over, but she stayed where she was.

“There are more of you?” Another nod. I wanted to ask it so many questions, about what it was and where it came from, but it seemed for now I was stuck with only yes or no questions.

“Do we even have free will?”

It just looked at me, almost sadly. I immediately felt sick to my stomach, and couldn’t bear looking at the little monster anymore. I grabbed Lucy, who had been listening to our exchange, and now sat on the curb with her head in her hands.

“Come on.”

We entered her house, and I made her a cup of tea. When I found her in the living room, she had untied her dog and was curled up with it, crying. I set the tea down and sat beside her.

“I’m so scared.” She whispered after a good ten minutes of sobbing. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“I’m going to sleep” She mumbled suddenly, and was under within the minute. Sleep was starting to sound pretty good all of a sudden, my eyelids suddenly felt like they were being weighed down.

I collapsed to the rug, and the last thing I heard before I fell asleep was the scurrying of several sets of little feet nearby.

I felt much better the next day, as if the whole affair had been a dream. I’d probably have believed that if I hadn’t been awoken by Lucy’s mother that morning, wondering what I was doing sleeping over without permission or something.

Over breakfast, Lucy asked me why I looked so pale and nervous. I turned to her and smiled, mumbling something to her about feeling sick.

But the truth was, I was scared because I couldn’t see any strings, and was wondering whether my actions were truly my own.

threads. I showed my friend candle cove the other day, he didn't think it was creepy. It's not like super scary but definitely weird in how realistic it is.

i dont know why i like these so much

candle cove isn't really scary, but it's well written and it definitely makes you think at the end. Does anyone else have some good creepypasta?

I really wish I had left that fucking light switch alone. Who would have thought the flick of a switch could mean the difference between life and death. Actually everyone’s thought that. That’s why I turned it on. Stupid little rituals that we take from childhood. The light will chase the monsters away, the blanket over your head will save you from the boogie man. And you just get more of these rituals as you get older. As long as you lock the doors and turn on the home security system, you can rest your head happily in your cozy little fortified home. No killers or psychos, monsters or boogie men.

But it doesn’t work. None of it. We always slip up some how. The one time you forget to lock that door. That’s when they get you. I would have been sound asleep if I hadn’t been woken by the loud slam as the front door blew open. I stumbled out of bed and down the hall to see it swinging back and forth. I moved quickly down the hall to secure it. A moment of panic swelled inside of me. My home felt like a crime scene. It wasn’t my safe little sanctum anymore.

Despite the overwhelming feeling of intrusion, there was no sign of disruption. Just the door. Just my careless mistake. I couldn’t comprehend it at first. It had to be a burgler or some psycho. I looked around the rest of the house. Checking every cupboard, every crevice. Nothing. I felt stupid but relieved. I just wanted to get back to bed, to forget this whole embarrassment. I flung myself back down on my bed, closed my eyes for just a second. I sat back up. There was no way I’d fall asleep unless I double-checked that I locked the door this time. I mean I was sure I had done it this time but I felt this was justified paranoia.

I got to the door and twisted the handle roughly about a dozen times, each time feeling the resistance of the lock. I smiled. Safe. I turned on my heels to go back to bed. But it was just a glimpse, a flicker of something in my peripheral vision that sent me swinging back into a panic. A shadow from the kitchen. I rushed in only to be confronted by my normal kitchen, bathed in moonlight. I sighed, questioned my sanity and decided that this, the longest night of my life must end. I went towards the bedroom once more. Another odd shadow crossed my path. As a shiver travelled down my spine, my tired mind braced apathetic denial and decided that it was probably the neighbours cat passing by the moonlit window.

I sat wide awake in my bed. Trying to lull myself to sleep. Counting in my head until I might eventually nod off. But everytime I closed my eyes that feeling of intrusion was still there. The hands of something unseen looming above my head. Every creak and every shadow filled my mind with the dread of my childhood. Those nights after being tucked in by my parents. Those same fearful thoughts of lurking terror. But it was nothing… right? More creaks. More movement in the shadows. I turned and pushed my face into the pillow. I felt something brush passed my foot which stuck awkwardly out from under my blanket.

I jolted upright, looking deeply into the darkness. Swirling shadows. The monsters. The boogie men. I felt around sheepishly for my phone. The dull light of the screen could put me at ease. Nothing on the nightstand and when my fingers roamed around the edge of the bed, instinctively I retracted them for fear of the unknown. I was alone but in the shadows I saw them, the monsters. Inky abominable beasts.

It was the only thing I thought could help me. I lunged from the bed directly at the switch. My palm slammed down on it and the room erupted into light. My eyes burned momentarily and I glanced round the room. Empty. Safe. Just paranoia. I shook my head and hit the switch once more. Climbing into bed in the pitch black. No shadows without my nightvision. But now I hear them. I can’t see them now. I don’t know what they want but I know I can’t leave. The rituals have failed. They’re on the other side of this blanket and all I can do now is hope that they’re gone in the morning.

threads

He's back...

DA FUCK?!?!?!?!?

I expected to see weird pictures of pasta...

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Candle%20Cove

there u go.

Shit.

ill let you keep believing whatever you want but its fake. just made by someone who read the story like you.

You really think anybody takes this stuff seriously?

late night bump.

There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning.
As he looked around the inside of the cabin, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by several portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred and malice. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.
The next morning, the hunter awoke — he turned, blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.

Not gonna lie, I missed your nsg contributions while you were banned.

This one's called "The Other Watcher"

A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed.

The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye. What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to.

This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.

At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, “Did you look through the keyhole?” The man told her that he had and she said, “Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

too much text

Threads/bump.

Creepypasta is definitely my new favorite way to entertain myself during school

I don't know why but this one always gets me.

Anybody knows where that other thread went? There was a story called "The Sound" or something, problem was that it didn't have an ending. There should be an ending right now but I can't find it.

the ending still isn't out and I want it so fucking badly. here's the thread though....

https://www.newschoolers.com/ns/forums/readthread/thread_id/684288/

fuck, this one got me

The scariest and creepiest part of all of dis shit yo.

Bumpbumpbump

if this was written better, it would be more creepy. concept is pretty cool though. where's mike-o

Threads!

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Some REALLY terrifying stuff has been happening to me. I don't know how to handle it. I'm getting too ahead of myself though, I should start with something like... Hi, my name is Jacob. I'm 16, and I live in the suburbs of LA. Too cliche of an intro? I don't know... I'm to frightened to care right now.

It all started a week ago. I was at some shop somewhere near the outside of LA, somewhere off some remote highway. My mom decided she wanted to stop there after coming back from a short camping trip with the family. After arriving there, we saw that it was a knick-knack shop, and a moderately sized one at that. Walking inside, an ominous feeling dropped over me, almost like a feeling when its hot outside and step into a cool building and the rush of coolness hits you, only this time... with eeriness. I looked around, examining all the odd and somewhat normal-looking items. That's when something weird happened. A flash seemed to illuminate the right side of my field-of-vision. I looked over but there was nothing shiny... Just a book that had a crazily ornate hard-cover. It had silver and gold lining with metallic designs on the face of it. For some reason, it began to draw me in, like I wanted it, and honestly, I kinda did.

I found the decoration on the front very cool due to the style of decoration which I can't really describe, just a kind of style that drew me in. I inspected the title of the book and it was titled The Darkest Shadow. I was intrigued by the book and, having a love of creepy stuff like this, I decided to grab it and take it to the cashier.

Touching it was a mistake. As soon as I grabbed it, an intense feeling of dread, or fear, I'm not even sure, loomed over me. After about six seconds or so the feeling just ascended off me, or most of it at least because I still felt uneasy. I tried to ignore it and just figured it was hormones or the eerie feeling the shop had already given me to begin with.

"Is this for sale?" I asked the cashier, arriving at the counter. "You want that book? Are you sure?" the cashier replied, a sound of only what I can describe as fear in his voice. "Uhm... Yeah... Is that a problem?" I questioned, quite surprised with his un-enthusiasm to sell it to me, almost as if he knew something I didn't. "No not at all. Take it. Have it for free," the cashier said, not even touching the book."Oh, okay, thanks," I smiled, happy but confused. "Bye-bye, then," the cashier said on my way out, or at least that's what I think he said. Who cares though? I had my book and I was pretty excited to get to reading. I haven't read a good thrilling book in a while, and this was free so, hey, what's not to be excited about. For some reason though, I couldn't shake off that I wasn't sure if he said "Bye-bye then", or something else. I swear he could have said "Bye-bye Jen."

We got home and I had some dinner. Taco's. The best. Sometime around 8:00 P.M. I decided to start reading the book. I grabbed it off my nightstand next to my bed. I pried it open and began to read. It had the thick smell of age to match the yellowing paper. The text was still readable so I didn't mind. The book was actually pretty cool and interesting. It was about a girl who had drowned in a bathroom after her husband found out she had an affair with another man. The man cut off the light while the mother was washing their 12 month old baby in the tub. The man drowned the girl in the tub in front of the daughter, and then proceeded to drown the baby.

Due to the guilt and realization of what he had done, he slit his throat and bled out. That's all I've read so far. I look at the clock. 12:42 A.M. I should get some sleep, I thought. I stood the book up on the nightstand, hoping the book would make my room more decorative. I turned my mini-lamp off and my room was flooded with pitch blackness. For some reason, I began to feel insecure, like something was watching me from the closet across my room. I closed my eyes and tried to shake off the feeling. I figured I was feeling this way because I read a scary book until 12:42 A.M. It wasn't really a good idea but I was just so drawn to this book that I almost couldn't put it down. My eyes had adjusted to the blackness of the room and now I could make out object in my room like my bookshelf, my Xbox, TV, my desk, and computer. I could see the outline of my sliding closet door. Something caught my eye, though.

The book on my shelf was producing a shadow the stretched to the roof of my room. I don't know how, seeing as my windows were completely covered by the shades so there was absolutely no source of light shining through the window. There was no light source at all, yet the book had a shadow growing out of it. I could tell because there was a shadow like shade emerging from it that was a darker shade then the rest of the room. As I stared at it, I realized it looked like the shadow of a human. That scared the crap out of me. I guess I just had set it up oddly on my nightstand... that's all...

It moved. I held still, petrified. I swear it moved. Their was not a doubt in my mind that made me think it didn’t. It looked like a girl with long hair. I was scared stiff. The shadows head slowly jerked sideways, as if looking at me in a two dimensional form. I turned in my bed, scared that it was clearly aware I was there. I closed my eyes and did not open them until somehow I fell asleep.

The next morning the day went through normally. It was a Sunday so I didn't do much. I decided to give the book another shot. I grabbed it from off my desk and read and read. I couldn’t set it down. I kept seeing the girl jerking her head towards me over and over in my mind, and I couldn’t set the book down. Eventually dinner came, I don’t know how. What I ate doesn’t really matter so I’m not going to go into detail about it.

I decided to get sleep early tonight. Reading the book didn’t sound like a very good idea, so I didn’t do it. I turned the light off and pitch blackness flooded the room again. Nothing wrong had happened this time. Once my eyes had adjusted, I saw the shadow again. Oh God, I thought, I don’t want to do this again. Suddenly, there was a faint sound coming from outside of my room. I listened harder, and it sounded like a baby crying. I looked up to see the shadow... but it was gone. Huh. Must have been my imagination the whole time. I looked down at the floor and yelled. The girl shadow was rising out of the ground, its head facing towards the floor. Oh crap, oh god, this is terrible. Thoughts were blurting through my head and then the shadow jerked its head towards me. I couldn’t move. I was stuck. It’s empty, lifeless eyes, pierced into mine. The baby crying crew louder, and the girl came closer, emitting a multi-pitched, demonic-like laugh. Her movement forward emitted a sound like nothing you’d ever expect. It was the sound that would emit like if you removed a game cartridge out of a device while its still playing.

I suddenly regained movement. I grabbed the book and ran for my life past the girl. I ran to our kitchen and grabbed a lighter out of the junk drawer. I threw the book in the stainless steel sink (which was dry at the moment) that way I wouldn’t burn down the house. I lit the book on fire and watched it burn. A feeling of joy washed over me. This should do it, I thought. I felt kind of proud. I really hope this would get read of the ghost.

Without warning, the sink blasted on, full power. It put the fire out almost instantly. “No no no no no no no no,” I cried in grief. I picked up the book and opened it up, only... the pages were blank. Confused, I flipped through the pages until I came across one that had a eerie girl grinning up at me with the words ”You shouldn’t have done that” printed on it. Full of fear and rage, I ran outside in the night.

Looking back at the house, I saw the girl grinning at me through the window. I turned my head and ran. I ran as fast as I could. My feet hurt because I didn’t have any shoes or socks, and I also didn’t know where I was going. I looked around and saw a well. I remember it because any time we’d drive around the suburbs to go to downtown LA, we’d pass it. I ran to the well and chucked the book as hard as I could. It hit the side of the well and dropped down and splashed in the distance. I sighed with relief and ran back home.

No sign of the girl. No crying baby. It was quiet. I checked on my parents and they were still asleep. I don’t know how they didn’t hear all the commotion. I went back to my room to go to sleep. I inspected the room and there was nothing out of the usual, especially no shadows anywhere. I felt a weight lifted off me, like this evil had been eradicated, or at least unbound from me. I smiled and went to sleep.

The next morning my mom said we were going downtown to do some heavy duty shopping. “Awesome, maybe I can get some games!” I said enthusiastically, and my mom rolled her eyes and smiled. “Come on let’s go.” We both got in the car and I hopped in the front seat. My mom started up the ignition and pulled out of the driveway. We turned down the street and drove down the road to downtown LA. I looked to the side and something caught my eye. I saw the well, and right behind it... was the girl standing in a freaky, crippled-looking position, her head cocked almost completely sideways, smiling at me. I held in my breath and swung my head towards the front windshield. My mom looked over me, confused. Then her phone buzzed. I jumped, scared for my life.

“Jacob, relax. It’s just my phone. Can you pick it up for me, I’m driving. It’s probably your dad.” I sighed and replied,”Yeah, sure.” I picked up the phone and hit the answer call button. “Hello?” I said. Then my blood ran cold. At the other side of the line, I heard a distinct female voice rasp,

“You shouldn’t have done that."

God i hate these. I always read every single word though.

On mobile, but there are 2 I remember in particular. First is the Pokemon one where there was some issue with it and some pokemon would die (not faint, die) at the end and the kids playing it would kill themselves over it. The other was about The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask. If you did some glitch right before the moon hit the earth you'd teleport to clock town, get stuck there and this statue of link would follow you everywhere. If you tried to fight Majora, it would shoot a ball of fire or something (not supposed to happen) and it would instantly kill you. You'd respawn still trapped in Clock Town.

Bump for teh scaries

i dont understand this at all.

this one is pretty creepy. just imagining what was on the other side... oh god

I want to stop reading so badly but I can't.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck creepypasta is so good.

And fuck you for posting smile.dog