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OUR DOMAIN IS ABOUT TO EXPIRE
Sun Apr 27, 2014 8:43 am by V
but I renewed it.
what have YOU done today, TR?
also I'm not sure if heartbleed effected us but you should probably not change your password, the jitterbug gang are working hard and they need …
what have YOU done today, TR?
also I'm not sure if heartbleed effected us but you should probably not change your password, the jitterbug gang are working hard and they need …
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Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
+11
Angel of Grief
Crystal Lion
Mrsebi
Rage
Dake
Erik
Winnie
Cial
Evangel
Flaw of Insanity
SS
15 posters
[TR] - Take Away Tom :: TR :: Sandbox
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Guest Thu Sep 23, 2010 7:47 am
The middle one is great.
- Spoiler:
- I would have kept a small knife of sorts hidden by my bed. Sucks the dog died, though.
Guest- Guest
Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Angel of Grief Thu Sep 23, 2010 7:09 pm
Read 'em all before. :C
Not many of them scare me, though.
Not many of them scare me, though.
Angel of Grief- Member
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Rage Fri Sep 24, 2010 12:03 am
- Spoiler:
- Creepy Watson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13YlEPwOfmk
Rage- I've covered wars, you know
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Flaw of Insanity Fri Sep 24, 2010 5:23 pm
Creepy Watson is creepy.
Flaw of Insanity- Ready for take off.
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Mrsebi Mon Sep 27, 2010 4:37 pm
- Spoiler:
Sick-
Sometime during the third consecutive night spent huddled over the toilet, insides heaving and shuddering as I vomit forth seemingly everything I’d ever eaten, I realize what’s happening: He’s trying to poison me. It’s all so elegant, so perfect, and so clear, that I almost laugh, but another barrage of retching forces me into silence
The next morning I throw everything in the kitchen away, wrapping it three times in black plastic and burying it deep in the apartments communal trash cans, to prevent an unfortunate transient from crossfire of His wrath. I am out the door of the complex and halfway to the corner store when I realize: He knows, must know, where I would shop.
I pick a direction and walk, enjoying the chill winter air that soothes the ragged shreds of my inside. I turn at random intervals, following an improbable path out of my familiar neighborhood, until I find a small shop with an unfamiliar name. Once inside, I hurriedly fill a small plastic basket; brands that I never have eaten, strange tins of ethnic ingredients I can’t recognize, foods that I’d never thought of buying. Soy milk. Tofu. I can feel my stomach reborn in anticipation of an untainted meal.
I prepare the meal in a fog of nervous anticipation, trying to focus on savoring the aromas and the grease spitting sounds of the frying pan. It tastes clean, but then, so has every other meal before this. I try to tell myself that the mounting pain inside me is simple fear and anxiety, but before the stroke of midnight, I am again crouched in the dingy bathroom, surrendering the days work into the porcelain mouth of the sewer.
The next day, I pack up the remaining food and dispose of it with the same care. I eat out that day, layering debt onto the last of my credit cards at restaurants on the opposite side of town.
He is more clever than I could ever imagined, and I am awash in despair as I spend another sleepless night gagging and sobbing on the tile floor. I imagine the Algorithm, the perfect predictive models at His disposal, brilliantly charting my every move across the city; every time I thought I’d outwitted Him, I was willingly walking into his web.
I buy a candy bar from a vending machine in a theater, and hold it close like a talisman. When I get home, I fill the bath a few inches deep with rust colored water, and hold the little plastic wrapped bundle beneath the water and squeeze. I know that I will see it, but it still breaks my heart when I do. A thin almost invisible stream of bubbles picks out the point where a foreign object has pierced the protective layer. Through the haze of piercing hunger, I convince myself to try, just one bite, and to take the chances. It’s a gamble that I do not win.
In the small hours of the morning as I press my fists into my empty protesting belly, I imagine the legion of His followers sliding silently through the restaurants and produce aisles of my life, slipping hypodermic needles into carefully selected packages of food. They are ruining and corrupting at His whim, surgical and efficient, before vanishing into the throng of the city at my approach. They will always be one step ahead of me, until I learn to think in new ways, to chart new cognitive pathways, and turn the game back upon Him. So, I tell myself, this is what I must do.
The first day of my new life, I spend in the small living area of my apartment, organizing my thoughts with clean and sterile efficiency, and conserving what energy I can from my wasting body. Night brings the retching sickness, but all that arises is water… and pills, half digested in the bilious water.
The pills. Of course. Not for the first time, I feel a sharp twinge of respect for crystalline perfection of His plans. I dump the last of my dozen prescriptions into the toilet.
On my third day, I feel a clarity and a sense of purpose that shocks me in it’s intensity, and my will penetrates the starvation malaise. I must win, or I will die. The rashes and sores in my cheeks are deeper, and I can feel the gentle sway of loose teeth in my desiccated mouth when I grind them in thought. He is winning, but not for long. There is still time.
Water, I collect from the roof in a small army of cheap hardware buckets. I know that somewhere in the byzantine plumbing of the aged building, there must one of His infernally clever devices; a tiny pump, squatting like a predator and pulsing it’s vile contents into the water main. I’ll have to give up bathing. A small sacrifice. The rain water will keep me alive for a while longer, but I must find a way to eat.
The answer comes to me in small unconnected puzzle pieces over the next few days. While gently working another loose molar from my bleeding gums, they suddenly snap together, and a warm smothering blanket of epiphany coats my aching frame. The clattering of the tooth into the sink basin is like the ringing of bells.
Late in the evening, I begin another unconscious dérive, drifting through the city on shaking and atrophied legs, knowing full well that He is watching. But this, my beautiful solution, is beyond even His reach.
I choose the house at random, and then, in one final attempt to baffle the Algorithim, turn around and choose another house across the little tree lined street. I sift through the mail; it’s a small sample size, but enough to confirm the most necessary of facts. A single occupant.
The poor man is surprised to have a visitor at all, and his face contorts with fear as force my way inside. I am flooded with guilt and regret as I push him to the floor and strike quickly with the crowbar I pull from the folds of my jacket.
No.
I must steel myself. This is His fault. He has brought us to this, and this poor man is just another of His victims.
I make quick work of the meat, the muscle memories of summers spent hunting in the mountains flaring up with each quick cut. I allow myself a quick bite, a feast to my shrunken and withered stomach. The iron and mineral salt taste floods my head like a vapor and I bawl in relief, like a child. When I have the meat packed tight into my rucksack, I light a single candle on the top floor of the little house, and turn the gas range on high.
I’m not yet home when I hear the low rumble in the distance; the pulsing lights of fire engines highlight the black cloud hanging in the sky.
For the first time in more than a month, I sleep well, my body rapidly healing as pure, untainted nutrients penetrate my cells. I am not yet well, but after a few more meals, I will be ready, once more, to fight Him. I know I can beat him now. I know the Algorithm can only predict the actions of my past self, bound by the laws and morals of the old world.
That world is dead.
Now then, im off to eat: I feel... hungry...
Mrsebi- In Your Head
- Zard :
![Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised] - Page 2 Pinkxs](https://2img.net/r/ihimizer/img155/1593/pinkxs.png)
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Evangel Sun Oct 03, 2010 12:52 pm
I hate you SS, this story made me paranoid beyond belief. I can't walk through my house at night without a weapon. I hope you're proud of yourself. D:
- Spoiler:
In the deep of night she awakens to a dripping sound coming from her bathroom. Half-awake, the girl feels the comforting lick from her dog and falls back to sleep. She reawakens to the dripping sound, reaches her hand down to the dog where she feels the reassuring lick and falls back to sleep. Once more, she awakens to the dripping sound. She reaches her hand down and feels the lick of her dog.
Now curious about the dripping sound, she gets up and slowly walks towards the bathroom, the dripping sound getting louder as she approaches. She reaches the bathroom and turns on the light. She is greeted by a horrific sight; hanging from the shower nozzle is her dog with its throat slit open and its blood dripping into the bathtub.
Something on the bathroom mirror catches her eye; she turns around. Written on the wall in her dog's blood are the words "Humans can lick too."
Evangel- Member
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Lasercats Mon Oct 04, 2010 5:30 am
Epicreepypasta.
Lasercats- New Member
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Dake Tue Oct 05, 2010 6:42 pm
I was not scared by any of these.
Dake- Cheezburger
- Zard :
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Rage Fri Oct 08, 2010 8:40 am
Not even Gold could escape the inevitable.
- Spoiler:
- http://fyeahpokemoncreepypasta.tumblr.com/post/931752208/pokemon-lost-silver
Rage- I've covered wars, you know
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Erik Fri Oct 08, 2010 9:46 am
I like reading these before going to bed :)
Didn't think the gold one was very scary.
Didn't think the gold one was very scary.
Erik- Soul Collector
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Flaw of Insanity Fri Oct 08, 2010 9:53 am
- Spoiler:
- http://fyeahpokemoncreepypasta.tumblr.com/post/1133319870/easter-egg-snow-on-mt-silver Scarier Pokémon Creepypasta
Flaw of Insanity- Ready for take off.
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Angel of Grief Sat Oct 09, 2010 10:06 am
Okay, just came up with this a few hours ago. Feedback pleaseeee? ;-;
- Spoiler:
A loud thump reverberates around the room, followed by the taunting of your young daughter.
"Mooooooooom," she yells, "Lucky knocked over the cookie dough and is eating it!"
You quickly dash towards the kitchen, to find the place in a mess. Your daughter is on the counter, covered in baking powder and egg yolk. The mixing bowl lays on the floor...in about a million pieces. The cookie dough, which you and your daughter were supposed to be making later, is laying in piles around the bowl. And low and behold, the damned dog is eating it.
"Shoo! Get away! Don't you know that chocolate can kill you?!" You scream, angered that something like this could ruin your peaceful day. You put the dog out, and begin to clean up the mess. It appears that the dog ate quite a bit of the mix...but thankfully, your daughter forgot to put in the chocolate chips. Lucky would be fine.
Twenty minutes later, the kitchen is spotless once again, the extra batter has been disposed of (quite quickly by some very greedy little children hands, at that), and the mixing bowl has been thrown out. You decide to take a well deserved rest. We can make some different cookies later, you think, when we go to the store. The batch that your daughter just made had used up all of the cookie making ingredients in the house.
...And you are awoken by the shrill ringing of the fire alarm ten minutes later. God damn, you think, I forgot to turn the oven off... You go to get up, and are met by your daughter. She is grinning ear to ear, with a plate in her lap. To your sleep-filled eyes, she appears to be covered in hair and blood. You dismiss the fact as that she was probably just out playing in the mud.
"Hi momma!" she yells, and jumps into the bed with you. "I made you something!"
Groggy from being just woken up, all you can really say is "Whaa?"
"Cookies!" she exclaims, and hands you one.
You pick off of a piece of dog hair, and shove the cookie into your mouth. "Delicious."
Angel of Grief- Member
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Crystal Lion Sat Oct 09, 2010 12:33 pm
She made the dog into biscuits as revenge on the animal? Or she thought she could save the mix that way?
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Mrsebi Sat Oct 09, 2010 11:57 pm
I feel bad for the dog
Mrsebi- In Your Head
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Angel of Grief Sun Oct 10, 2010 12:22 am
Chamberino wrote:I'm sorta getting the impression that she cut the dogs stomach open to get the dough out.
That would be it.
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Cial Tue Oct 12, 2010 9:20 pm
Flaw of Insanity wrote:
- Spoiler:
That. was. lame.
Cial- I am your mother
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Re: Creepypasta Thread [Viewer Discretion Advised]
by Alderos Wed Oct 13, 2010 3:47 am
Thos pokemon creepypasta are weird... they arent real right?
Alderos- Evil lemon
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[TR] - Take Away Tom :: TR :: Sandbox
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