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Creepypasta: It Never EndsCreepypasta: It Never Ends
I ask you a question, what is right and what is wrong? You might say something like murder is wrong, and dying for a just cause is right. But in the end, how are the two different? They each involve death. Which brings me to my main point: all life depends upon the ending of another’s to exist. Even humans must eat plants and usually animals, and in some odd cases other humans as well. Life could best be portrayed as an endless staircase, constantly turning back in on itself in a quantum Mobius strip. Remember that all life exists solely because it caused another life pain at some point, which in turn had inflicted pain to life before it. That is a central theme in the story I will tell you.
First, proper introductions are in order. I am Sin, with a capital S. I could best be described as the abstract concept of violating the natural order that we call sin, given sentience and a semblance of form. I make my presence felt every day in the life of every m
innocencelast night, i dreamt the devil
tried to slaughter me with a
train. the tracks began at the
back hall and ended at the front
door, pouring outside. how these
things appeared in my home, i cannot
he was not the caricature you may be
imagining; oh, no. he was perhaps
as old as the boy who died this winter,
roughly twenty five summers. ebony
curls sat wickedly on his ears, and his
eyes were two lumps of coal and fire,
sharp enough to paralyze.
i locked him in the garden, eventually.
he found a way back in, of course
(being the devil must have perks).
i retrieved the pocket knife the colour
of motor oil from my nightstand
and stabbed him three times, in the belly.
he bled out all over, staining the picture
frame, the carpet, the wallpaper. i imagined
it was sin, not blood; that i was healing, not
but it was blood; he was human, after all.
as they took him away to the hospital, i watched
him grimace in pain. guilt seeped through my
skin like coffee th
Creepypasta: Mirror, MirrorCreepypasta: Mirror, Mirror
Humans are vain, self-absorbed creatures. If I, once a trusted angel and now a Daemon of myth, am aware of that, then surely they know it on at least some basic level too. My eventual corruption and fall from grace should come as no surprise; I suspect Adonai himself always had his doubts in my purity. I am after all in a prime position to see them at their most selfish and otiose as well. You see, I am a shapeshifter who dwells in the space between the mirror and the reflection.
In my newfound role I stalk my chosen victim through the reflective surfaces in his or her abode. I imitate their every movement as they preen in front of my chosen mirror. I look on from the polished surface with disgust as they bitch and moan under their breath about first-world problems. And just when I can’t stand them any longer, that is when I start to have my fun.
I begin to purposely put flaws in my imitation, and as they look at me thinking they see their own reflecti
Time To Take OverThis cant be possible... It just can't
Careful now you may drift further into insanity
You aren't real!
I know you aren't, just a god damn voice in my head
But didn't I tell you already, we are the same
That is not true and I do not tolerate ludicrous statements!
Then explain what this is right now?
What do you mean?
I think you already know the answer
No I don't, really I have no clue
Are you sure?
I am quite positive almost certain
You do realize what you are doing now right?
What are you talking about!
Look at yourself
Ok... What am I suppose to see
...Wait... No, No, Nooo!
What do you see Thomas
And who else?
No one just...
Creepypasta: LogicLara sat upside down on the sofa. Her long, curly black hair was hanging down, brushing up against the hardwood floor.
“Lara, your mom doesn’t like you sitting like that.” Her father said, looking up from his book.
Lara had to struggle to get to a normal position. She wasn’t quite used to missing half of her left arm yet. “So…” She started, shifting on the leather couch to find a comfortable position. “When is she going to get here?” Lara’s mom had left to pick up a new child. Literally. After the long and tedious adoption process, it was time to pick her up.
“Should be soon…” He replied, glancing down at his watch. “Remember what we told you. Don’t-“
“-ask about the scar. I’m nine, I remember things Daddy.”
The bolt lock on the front door clicked and the door swung open. “I don’t want you see you tracking dirt in the house- I’ve heard you’re pretty
The Virtual Reality Experiment A few years before the time this writing took place, there was an experiment to see if a phenomenal invention could potentially revolutionize the world of video games forever.
The invention was a virtual reality console that would actually put eager players into the game so they could vividly experience it instead of just play it. It sounded like something from Science Fiction, but the developers had spent years building it.
The console was to be called the “Immersion”, and it would have instantly made every other console obsolete. It wasn’t like the kind of system where you have to wear a visor over your eyes like the Oculus Rift and still hold a controller. It would have generated an entire virtual world unlike any other before it for players to explore. The game would generate sounds, smells, sights, even a temperature. Once the gamer began playing, it was as if they had stepped into another world for an
Because I askedThe fingers were now black, stained with blood. I sighed as I curled them back into a fist. I’m inside The Black Forest Asylum, hiding in one of the many janitorial closets. My arm’s bleeding profusely, due to its recently impaling, thanks to the demonic little girl I just met a couple of minutes ago. I place my hand back on the wound, trying to apply pressure.
Why? Just why? Why can’t I have an easy day? Just once!
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” I hear the girl’s playful, yet sadistic, voice.
I groan, Please…give me five minutes! I keep quiet, hoping that maybe she’ll walk past the room where the closet I’m currently hiding is in, but I already know that’s asking for too much.
I hear the door open shortly followed by footsteps, enter the room. I hold my breath, trying my best not to make a sound. As I do, I silently curse The Sender for bringing me here.
“I can smell your fear…” I hear
Those were my last words before it all happened…
“Just a little closer…” I thought to myself as I was climbing the window.
I don’t like living this way. I don’t want to live this way, but I have no choice.
The window was locked, so I had to crack it open with one of my special tools, a small, glass-cutting knife. I made a circle shape, big enough for me to slide open.
I took the glass piece and left it outside, so in case it falls, it won’t fall in the house and wake someone up. Holding my breath, I slowly entered the house through the hole, making as less noise as I can. I let my breath out and looked around the room. “It is just like the rumors say…” I thought to myself. The house looked tidy, very shiny and seemed like there are a lot of things to ‘borrow’… I rubbed my hands together in excitement, but before even beginning, I went to look through the house rooms.
Puppet On His Strings (Tickler's Orgin!!)It was a cold, rainy night. People walked the streets in jackets and trench coats, holding umbrellas with all kinds of designs, trying to keep themselves warm and dry. Cars and taxies passed by on the streets, trying to reach their destinations to get out of the depressing weather.
There, in the crowd, you could see a mop of natural red hair, standing in the rain, his head down, getting soaked from the rain. Charles Troy Bernstine was his name. He sniffled, and sneezed, his body shivering from the cold. He didn't care if he was going to get sick or not. He was too depressed to care about anything at all, as he remembered the events that had happened a few minutes ago:
"Charles!!" she gasped, as the boy that was hovering over her quickly rolled off of her, hiding under her cream yellow sheets. Charles continued to stand there and watch, eyes widened in horror, his brain still trying to process what he had just witnessed. The girl had quickly got up, frantically grabbing at her cloth
[transmissions of a dead girl]i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
to weigh down
into leaden eyes--
i am the
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of your
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
and dead altogether,
i still die.
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