creepypasta:

There it goes again. Something definitely moved this time. It was very brief, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw something. But wait. All the doors are locked, no pets, and your parents won’t get home until 10. So there’s no way something moved. It’s just your imagination getting the best of you. Sitting alone in your room, the only light emitting from the monitor of your computer, you stare into the darkness for several minutes. Just to be sure. Now you feel silly. What were you thinking? Of course there’s nothing there. What, are you 6? Go back to what you were doing.

15 minutes later, as you prepare to go to bed, you’re in the bathroom. The shower curtains shift. Wait… no. Stop spooking yourself. It’s just an overactive imagination, filling your head with what isn’t really there. You gaze into the mirror at yourself. You say it to yourself, slowly and clearly, “Imagination.” With a sigh, you turn the lights off and head towards your room.

Laying in bed, you stare at your ceiling, dark and foreboding, only the motion of a small fan disturbing the calmness of the night. A shadow from the light in the hall shifts. No. No, no, no. Stop it. It’s your imagination. Just that. Go to sleep, you fool.

But then, just when you’re about to drift off to sleep, at the phase no one remembers when they wake, you sense something in the darkness. It’s your imagination, leering down at you. With a jagged, macabre smile.

creepypasta:

Legend has it that if you come face to face with your doppelganger, it’s an omen or warning of death — for both you and your twin. Because of this, if you see a replica of yourself, run for your life. If you keep seeing your doppelganger, chances are that your days are numbered, because you’ll soon see your demise.

There are many stories regarding encounters with doppelgangers, none of them pleasant. Often, a person does not actually see their own doppelganger, but someone else does. Can you be two places at once? No, but it’s a very strange feeling when someone who knows you very well insists that they saw you just thirty minutes ago — and you were nowhere in the vicinity. Imagine this happening time and time again and you’ll soon go insane.

Hence, the myth that a doppelganger will precede the arrival of the real person. Many stories explaining their experiences with these apparitions have this in common. Perhaps he’s one step ahead of you?

creepypasta:

Many classic horror icons, such as Geger’s xenomorphs, Silent Hill’s Pyramid Head, and other disturbing creatures, share common characteristics. Pale skin, dark, sunken eyes, elongated faces, sharp teeth, and the like. These images inspire horror and revulsion in many, and with good reason. The characteristics shared by these faces are imprinted in the human mind.

Many things frighten humans instinctively. The fear is natural, and does not need to be reinforced in order to terrify. The fears are species-wide, stemming from dark times in the past when lightning could mean the burning of your tree home, thunder could be the approaching gallops of a stampede, predators could hide in darkness, and heights could make poor footing lethal.

The question you have to ask yourself is this:

What happened, deep in the hidden eras before history began, that could effect the entire human race so evenly as to give the entire species a deep, instinctual, and lasting fear of pale beings with dark, sunken eyes, razor sharp teeth, and elongated faces?

… Just be careful out there.

Do you ever wonder how scary death is? Think about it; it’s the one thing that we truly know absolutely nothing about. Some people may cite religious beliefs of an afterlife and others might claim they just focus on life, but it’s really something that is totally and utterly foreign to us. And what if the religious people are wrong? What if death really is nonexistence…that it’s simply over once the brain dies? Terrifying, huh? Of course, the reasoning goes that you won’t notice it, since you won’t exist.

But…let’s say a certain someone could expose you to nonexistence. Let’s say this person could actually let you experience the state of not existing and more importantly, let you remember it. He’d probably be able to get you to agree to anything in order to avoid that fate. Tangentially, for certain people near death, their brain activity sometimes ceases completely for about three seconds and then returns, only to shortly die in a more conventional fashion.

As another aside, many hospital orderlies have noticed a man wearing a suit that they have never seen in any catalog or on any person before. Interestingly enough, when you ask them about the suit they will struggle for a moment, then reply that it’s hard to describe, but they are sure they haven’t seen it before. Ask them about the man however, and they will freeze up, spasm violently and reply, “What man?”

If you ever are in an area of absolute quiet, still your breathing and move not a muscle. After a few seconds, you will notice that the silence has a sort of “sound” of its own, a kind of empty ringing tone. This is nothing unique; everyone will hear this, given the proper setting. An informed person will tell you that your brain is trying to interpret the lack of stimuli to your hearing and so creates a bit of a filler sound. This ringing sound actually serves a more arcane purpose, covering up a noise we are not meant to hear. This noise is not impossible to hear, and if you are persistent you can effectively “break” the cover-up sound.

The next time you are silent and hear the ringing, shout at the top of your lungs for about half a minute, then be abruptly silent. It will be different for everyone. Some will hear nothing different for dozens of tries. Others might pick up soft murmuring. A special few auditory heroes might clearly make it out on the first attempt. What you will hear is a voice that relays an account of events about to happen in the immediate future. It’s like a sportscaster relaying the events occurring ten seconds into the future.
 

As time goes on, you will be able to make out this voice under increasingly noisy circumstances, to the point that it can be heard at any time by just concentrating. Such ability would doubtlessly be invaluable, no? You will be able react to any immediate danger, relate to people around you with greater ease. No one would ever surprise you. Now, of course you are wondering what sort of horrible catch this ability entails. Perhaps the tone of the voice is so horrible that it will drive you mad, or maybe the voice will only predict your death over and over again.

Of course this isn’t the case, though, it’s a normal voice, your ears receive it no matter what, and it’s simply a matter of noticing. But there is a danger. For you see, where there is a voice, there is a body. And just like you will notice new sounds, so shall you notice new sights. More importantly, you will be noticed.

Why do you do it? You don’t know why, but you do. You make sure the windows are locked, you check the other side of the door, and your closet…You even check under your bed. Why do you do this? Does ripping open the shower curtain and seeing nothing there make you feel safe? Does scoping the area with your eyes after reading a scary story reassure you?

Well, it shouldn’t.

Because by the time you’ve looked, I’ve already hidden.

There is a dead mall somewhere in Virginia that is in an advanced state of decay. For one reason or another, the mall still stands — there have been several plans, some of them quite elaborate, to revitalize the area, many of them calling for the original building’s demolition…but none of them have ever come to pass.

It is quite a shame, a sorry thing to look at today. In its heyday in the 1970’s and early 80’s, the mall was jam-packed, the place to be on the weekends, especially Saturday nights. It was upscale, fashionable, and always a happy place to go.

Years went by and bigger, better malls opened around the city. The mall slowly started losing tenants, until today it is completely empty. If you go in it nowadays, you will be astounded by the vast emptiness — every step you make and every word you speak will echo loudly. Where once scores of people did their shopping, met for lunch, and got together, there is now only eerie silence. Over the years, the happy, upbeat feeling of the place has darkened, more and more, until now many people avoid it…but can never tell you exactly why.

The story would end here, were it not for a very curious rumor: it is said on certain Saturday nights throughout the year, something very strange happens. If you go to one of the entrances of this mall, it will be unlocked. Push open the door, and it will give way — and you may enter.

Near a bench right in the entrance will be a shadowy figure — casting a shadow that obscures than the darkness around it. This shadowy figure can be spoken to — call out to it: “I know your secret, and the secrets you keep.” Where once there was shadow, there will appear a face — a radiantly pale, withered old man’s face, with black holes for eye-sockets.

“No,” he will respond in a voice that will be like the slithering of maggots, “for I know yours.”

He will then ask a question — the question will be about your life, or rather a detail about your life, something that happened many years ago. The question he poses will be one you should know the answer to — but so obscure, it will be difficult to answer at first, if you can answer it at all.

You will be forced to answer — you simply won’t be able to respond with “I don’t know.”

If you get the answer right, the shadowy man will thrust a box into your hands, before dissolving back into the darkness. Open the box, and there will be a note, on which will be written the name of the person you were meant to marry or fall in love with. Only rarely is it the person you think it will be.

If you get the answer wrong, your body will be found the morning of the following Sunday, at the entrance to the mall you came in, mutilated and eviscerated so badly no one will be able to identify the body.

There is a green in the center of Cambridge, in England, that goes by the name of Parker’s Piece. It sits at the hub of the city and is a vast, square expanse of grass the size of several football pitches, with two diagonal paths crossing it. At the intersection of these two paths is a lamp-post. At night it is literally the only source of light in every direction for hundreds of feet.

No-one fully understands the circumstances under which certain events are allowed to transpire. The only agreed upon points are that firstly it must be night-time. Secondly, you must be alone. Finally, You must have been celebrating something earlier. A degree or test, or even a birthday.

Bear in mind that Cambridge is a student city, and students are masters at finding reasons to celebrate.
 

There are more obscure parameters involving your movements around the various pubs in the city-center, but unfortunately the quality of informative sources breaks down.

If you do meet the criteria, you would find yourself walking towards Parker’s Piece, then onto the tarmac path towards the shining beacon. As you get closer the general din of the city will start to quieten, and you may become aware of something being “off”. This may concern you enough to look around. Everything will be reassuringly normal.

Until you reach the lamp-post.

You will immediately notice that there is source of light other than the bulbs in the lamp. About eye-level from the ground, two words will burn with a malevolent orange glow.

“REALITY CHECKPOINT”

The moment you read and comprehend these words, as much as us mortals can, the game begins.

You will hear the sound of smashing glass, but will not be able to discern the direction from which it came.

Don’t bother looking anyway, because by this point you should be running.

As you scramble as fast as you can away from the center you may catch the sound of a hunting horn and the bays of what you hope are hounds.

Now understand this isn’t one of those “you can’t look back” arrangements. You can. What you see will probably motivate you to run that much faster, and at this point additional speed can only be beneficial to your well-being.

Sprinting along the path, your attention may be drawn to the police station, located on one of the sides.

Do not leave the path to run towards it. Leaving the path will break the agreement. They have agreed that this race will be fair. it can just as easily become unfair.

Approaching the end of the path, the noise of the hunt will rise to a crescendo, then abruptly die away as you leave the green. Scrutinizing the lamp-post from here will only reveal a short flurry of shadows that will quickly disappear.

And for this you will receive the reward.

The other side of the veil has become aware of your celebration and offers you a gesture.

Tomorrow when you wake will be the best day of your life.

For some, they may write a song that will live for ages, or a story that will resonate through all.

Others may meet their soulmate or find their direction in life.

it’s truly unknown how many success stories that originate from Cambridge can be attributed to to the green.

One final thing to note is that any who complete this trial and achieve their perfect day will forever have a “trophy” of sorts. When ever they cross Parker’s Piece again, night or day, if they touch the lamp-post as they pass a resounding howl can be heard.

Some people will convince themselves it is a dog. They will know better.

Ever feel like you’re being watched? Awful feeling, isn’t it? You can feel the eyes on you, watching you. You aren’t sure what emotion they’re watching you with. It could be lust, it could be hatred, it could be fear. You’re not too sure, but you know you don’t like it. You quickly run through a mental checklist. “Did I lock the door tonight? Is my alarm set? Are the windows drawn?” You answer yourself in the affirmative in all cases, and relax a little. You’re in your cozy little house, safe from the outside world. Alone.

You still feel it. The eyes pressing down on your neck, just watching you go about your business. You know you’re safe. Youdid lock everything out, right? But then a thought enters your head. What if someone was already here? A simple answer, really. That just means instead of locking him out, you locked him in. With you. Alone.

Your heart starts to race. Your eyes look at every corner. Every little subtle movement in the corner of your eye is a potential stalker, and you know he won’t be happy if you ruin his evening. He’s very apt to ruin yours if you do. You finally run to your room, your heart pounding against your chest. You lock your bedroom door, not having learned your lesson about locks. So you sit here, in your room. Sitting nervously on that oh so comfy bed of yours. Alone.

You’re still not content. You check every brightly lit corner. Under your bed has proven clear at least a dozen times, and you know your closet is empty. So you breathe a sigh of relief, and sit comfortably on your bed. You scold yourself for being such a child. You go and wash up for the night, and make yourself comfortable. Partially to mock your fear this evening, you sleep extra light tonight. You finally convince yourself to turn off the lights, and slip comfortably into your bed. You drift quietly off to sleep, a smile on your face. You’re now safe and sound until the morning. So you sleep, mocking your phantoms with your quiet slumber and skimpy nightwear. You sleep. Alone.

Finally you are asleep. Such a bothersome evening this has been. So inconvenient and fruitless. Finally, you are convinced that you are alone. And you are… with me.