Name That Creepypasta

"I know that sounds strange, but it was fun. Not only was he a walking repository of everything I knew and had forgotten, he also seemed more in touch with me than I did at times. He had an uncanny grasp of the minutiae of body language that I didn't even realize I was picking up on. For example, I'd thought the date I brought him along on was going badly, but he pointed out how she was laughing a little too hard at my jokes, and leaning towards me as I spoke, and a bunch of other subtle clues I wasn't consciously picking up on. I listened, and let's just say that that date went very well."

"After nine days, the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly, yelling at the top of his lungs for three hours straight, at which point he continued attempting to scream, but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords."

"Really, what surprised me most when I first moved in was how normal everything seemed. At least at first. Aunt Louise cooked, cleaned, watched TV, talked to neighbors on the phone, etc., just like anyone else would, and she told me right away that she had little in the way of expectations from me."

"After adjusting to the dark for a half second, I was able to see what caused the strange reaction. At the foot of the bed, sitting and facing away from us, was what appeared to be a naked man, or a large hairless dog of some sort. Its body position was disturbing and unnatural, as if it had been hit by a car or something."

"I lowered the phone slowly and leaned against the thick brick wall of the stairwell. That was strange. I looked at my received calls list, but the number was unfamiliar. Before I could think on it further, the phone rang loudly, shocking me yet again. This time, I looked at the caller before I answered. It was another unfamiliar number."

"An elderly man who claimed to have “nothing left to live for” was the only test subject to volunteer. To purge him of all his senses, the scientists performed a complex operation in which every sensory nerve connection to the brain was surgically severed. Although the test subject retained full muscular function, he could not see, hear, taste, smell, or feel. With no possible way to communicate with or even sense the outside world, he was alone with his thoughts."

"The day after my fifth birthday (attended by my parents alone), I came down with a fever. The doctor said I had mononucleosis, which meant no rough play and more fever for at least another three weeks. It was horrible timing to be bed-ridden – we were in the process of packing our things to move to Pennsylvania, and most of my stuff was already sealed away in boxes, leaving my room barren. My mother brought me ginger ale and books several times a day."

"So, Margaret had only heard what sounded like a dog. I couldn't rule out the possibility that perhaps she had mistaken some noise she'd heard for that of a dog. Maybe she'd heard some children that were only pretending to be dogs and mistook them for a real one. Maybe she'd heard the wind and thought it was a howl. If that were the case, it would explain the scratches and bites she'd seen on some of the children."

"Because it was beginning to get dark, I couldn't see his face very well, so I couldn't tell if he was anyone familiar. I called out to him, but he didn't move. He just stood there like a statue."

"As I desperately tried to escape, it splashed towards me at rapid speed, uncurling its long, thin fingers. It was wailing now, staring into me with its huge black eyes, and as I scrabbled up the stairs with great difficulty, as I felt my legs begin to give way beneath me."

"It’s the final weeknight, and again he has come. Whistling that little ditty, repeating it again and again, enough times to drive the sanest of men crazy. I can see through the window. The light through the cornfield, the rustling of plants, the maddening whistling, it’s all culminating to a feeling of hopeless dread, like being faced with a gun while you’re up against a wall."

"At 8:17 PM, Mrs. Elaine Kantor reported her neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Milton, and their two children, Jeffery and Brooke, missing. According to Mrs. Kantor's phone call, the Miltons attempted to leave town in their family car earlier in the evening. They never returned. Law enforcement officials from Hays never reported the car, or individuals, coming up the one way road."

"The clear image now displayed on the screen made everyone’s eyes noticeably widen. What was displayed on the monitor was… horrifying. A humanoid… thing stood in the center of the room staring directly at the camera, unmoving. It was wearing the jumpsuit that subject three had been issued, but this clearly was not the same man that had entered the room."

"This tank used to be for normal fish. Goldfish. Minnows. Zebrafish. Zebrafish were my favourite. They all died, and I never replaced them. I left the light on, with the filter switched off, in a dead, withering tank for months. A speckled, thin brown algae erupted in areas, and intensified across all four glass walls of the tank. Ready to clean it out, I saw a pulse. Intrigued, I fixed my stare."

"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, unmoving red color. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he had been spying on them the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red."

"If you have seen the village, made out its strange volcanic walls, even from a distance, you’ve already crossed the threshold. You are now a visitor. Do not try to turn back. Someone watching might consider your aversion rude, and someone is watching. If you do turn around, you will not get far."

"It was only a few feet away when I heard it. The low hum from before. It was coming from the next room and it was deeper. I could almost feel it inside my body, like when you stand next to an amp at a concert. The feeling of the bugs on me lessened as the hum grew louder."

"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."

"Anyway, we left Colorado and made the long, boring, and barren drive to Broken Bow, Nebraska, or "Hell on Earth" as Mr. Mays had put it. We found a motel in town and hung around for a couple of days, venturing out a hundred miles or so in any given direction each day after that."

"In Kindergarten in this country, you don't learn much except how to tie your shoes and how to share, so most of it isn't very memorable. I only remember two things very clearly: I was the best at writing my name the right way, and the Balloon Project, which was really the hallmark of the Community group, since it was a pretty clever way to show how a community functioned at a really basic level."

"As I turned away from the large rock and the hole, I felt an overwhelming sense of panic fill my soul. It felt like a legion of demons was about to attack me from behind. I felt like my salvation lie ahead of me in the darkness, and Lucifer was behind me, trying to keep me from safety. I found myself moving much faster than I should have been in that cave. My only thought was to get out as quickly as possible."

“However, one night, she was so upset that she burned our meal. Even after burning it, she still served it in both of our dishes at the table and sat down to eat her own portion, still weeping as she shoveled the burnt pieces into her mouth. This was unacceptable to me."

"We all seem to share a general appreciation for societal disconnect, which is cool, because I really thought I was the only wackjob who can't stand dealing with normal people. After all, it's these "normal" people who are telling me I don't have the right to smoke whatever substances I damn well please, as if it's their business."

"I broke down. That's why I looked so awful the next day. I was in a daze. I remember watching your routine and seeing your blade snap. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground and my face was covered in blood from where the tip flew off and sliced my forehead. Then they told me it was my fault because I had your skates in my possession earlier."

"Around February 2014, Emily started tagging herself in my photos. I would get notifications for them, but they'd normally be removed by the time I got to the picture. The first time I actually caught one, it felt like someone had punched me in the gut. 'She' would tag herself in spaces where it was plausible for her to be, or where she'd usually hang out."

"Slowly, surely, a picture began to form. A picture of the world beyond my laptop, and the little umbilical cord which was the cable. I was a blind man, feeling his way through a cave, bit-by-bit. The more I read, the more fearful I became. A lot of bad shit had happened. I have neither the time nor patience to list everything here."

"I saw it clearly, and I'll remember that moment 'til the day I die. A little dark imp, maybe three feet tall, was 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 roll out behind it."

"About thirty or forty minutes later, there's the smell of ozone again. You could notice it over the scent of the fire we had started: this really nasty, coppery smell, like right after you've had a nosebleed and it's stopped. It wasn't exactly like dried blood, but it was that metallic, back-of-your-throat smell. We immediately think that it's some kind of electrical malfunction, or that someone left a hotplate on or some shit. We search the trailers and nothing's on, but we can all smell it."

"I caved and downloaded the video, finding no virus or threat to my computer according to the file-scan I’d installed. When the video finished its twenty minute download, I observed its thumbnail: a dark room with a metal table, a single light bulb dangling from a mere string over it."

"Well, let's take a look at it," he said. He went over to it and unscrewed the faceplate and peered inside. He clicked his flashlight on and went to work unscrewing and checking different things, when he stopped suddenly, and pulled out a tiny thing attached to a cord that didn't look like it belonged. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "This yours?" I couldn't even identify what he was holding. "I don't believe so, what is it?"

"He was talking to Mr. Bear for a while, but I couldn't hear well (Again with the crappy camcorder) until the kid started raising his voice.The kid was saying how it was late and his sister had to go home, you could also hear more voices in the background."

"The actual legitimate copies that were apparently released back in the day feature a blank cover, with nothing but the sprite of what has since been named 'the Ticket-Taker’. He is a poorly drawn, pixelated, bald Caucasian man with large red lips, wearing a red vest over a white shirt and black pants."

"That wasn't the villain, the puppet with the mustache. That was the villain's sidekick, Horace Horrible. He had a monocle too, but it was on top of the mustache. I used to think that meant he had only one eye."

"I could feel Margaret physically pause. Neither of us could remember. Somehow, in the confusion of our argument, I’d forgotten which way we had been moving. Idiot, I thought to myself. I should have brought a goddamn rope or something to trail from the entrance. I had to take action, so without much thought, I turned 180 degrees and said, “This way.” We walked for what seemed to be hours. My feet were tired and sore, and I could hear Margaret’s groans from behind me. She held my hand tightly. I felt terrible. This was my fault"

"One psychologist who saw many of these children reported being disturbed by the sheer amount of terror on their faces as they recounted details of the nightmare. Many of them broke down into tears in the process, begging for their parents to "save" them. However, no direct relationship to the game itself could be determined by these few cases, as not all children suffered the same adverse effects."

"They say that the hour of 3 A.M.is the time when spirits can become active, and I'm sure of that.My apartment was always a little too quiet for one in the city, especially at night. No drunk shouting in the street at that time, no sound of car corns and alarms could penatrate the dark at that particular hour. It was like my apartment was high on a platform, surrounded by a dense fog that the sharpest of hawk eyes couldn't penatrate."

"It's funny how things work. We have giant metal vehicles that fly through the air. We have HD video that you can carry in your pocket. We have music that can be accessed any time from devices that use touch screens. But when something like this happens... something so stupid... something so simple... there's nothing to be done. Nothing that can be done, even with our advances."

"I was handcuffed to a bed, my mouth sealed with duct tape. I immediately began to panic, squirming and tugging at the cuffs, but gave up soon after. My eyes widened in disbelief after looking around the room. There were posters of superheroes pinned up along the walls, and photographs of famous athletes on shelves. In the middle of the room was an old television and Super Nintendo, various game cartridges stacked alongside it."

"We walked along the railway talking and laughing, having ourselves a good time...until we saw it...The silo was, of course, just sitting there looming tall over the trees. Curious, we walked toward it as our laughter, along with our talking, died down. The closer we got to it the colder it felt...as if there was some sort of cold, dark aura radiating from it sending shivers down our spines...Hell!"

"I smiled and complied, dropping my sandwich in mock terror. I lifted my hands to the sky and petitioned for mercy. A true homicidal maniac in the making, she executed me with a flurry of staccato pop pop pops. I dutifully played dead, sprawling across my bench. She giggled and proclaimed, “Your turn. Shoot me!”

"I took my eyes off of him to cross the empty street. As I reached the other side, I glanced back... and then stopped dead in my tracks. He had stopped dancing and was standing with one foot in the street, perfectly parallel to me. He was facing me but still looking skyward, smile still wide on his lips."

"Whenever the Allies found these places, they were often gutted, burned, or otherwise destroyed and abandoned. If a lab was found intact, the research was usually incoherent or missing, and would be later destroyed by the Allies to prevent the Nazis from recovering any data left behind. Thus, a lot of Nazi experiments were kept under the radar. Until recently."

"A cough brought me back to reality, and I looked, blinking back tears, to see an old man, bald and bearded and stooped over, grinning through a mouth of yellow teeth. His clothes were as grey and wiry as the hairs on his face, like he was Greywater Gardens in human form. Even his right eye was grey; the left was just a black, empty socket, with the eyelids hanging over it forlornly."

"Lastly is my sister. Little Emily was really young when I was adopted, so we were about the same age, but she was slightly older. I liked to think of her as my little sister, though. We got along better than any siblings could. We would always stay up late together and just talk. Well, she did a lot of the talking; I mostly just listened because I loved her."

"Indeed, what a show it is too. A ringmaster appears in a tattered red suit with a top hat and a long whip, his face covered in scars and eyes rolled back into his head as he speaks gibberish to the crowds, who cheer and clap."

"Originally, there were four members in Eiffel 65: Jeffrey Jey, Raimondo Sanguine, Maurizio Lobina, and Gabry Ponte. After a few unsuccessful one-hit blunders, the four of them decided to seek inspiration serving as missionaries with their church. Soon, they were off to the heart of Africa to build irrigation systems for land-locked villages. None of them were really built for physical labor, but the word of God had brought them down there, and there they would work."

"As the voice got louder, the cage began to rattle, banging and scraping, deepening that familiar indent in the wall.. "How could you do this, Papa?" She had never called me "Papa" when she was alive. I lit a cigarette with trembling hands and made my way up the steps."

"There are dozens, each filled with the same murky fluid. All soft grey, pulsing and flowing in time to a subtle, silent heartbeat. Things move in them. Grey, red, pink. Small, with eyes that swivel in their sockets, staring idiotically. They spend all of their time staring at me. I see their mouths moving, filling with fluid. Exhaling the brine, mouthing the same word over and over again."

"The astronauts begin to make notes of the crater, when the scratching sound is heard again. This time, however, it is quite audible, and appears to be coming from the basin of the crater. The sound becomes so loud, it begins to irritate the astronauts. One of the men looks down over the edge to find the source of it. A force unseen by the camera suddenly pulls him into the crater. His screams are heard briefly before the footage is cut short."

"That was the year my wife and I escaped the busy world of New York to live our lives in the country, North Dakota. We lived happily there for several years, until I discovered my one true love, studying the Seed Eater."