creepypasta ideas
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:28pm
Thread Topic: creepypasta ideas
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And I Am Going To Capitalize Every Letter Like A Douche-Bag. Let Me Continue.
Oh... Hi there. I don't know if you're reading this, or if you exist at all, maybe you do. Maybe you don't. I don't really care... Or know any-more. Although... I know my mind exists... I think, I'm not sure what to believe now. I'm writing this because it's the only thing that makes me feel like the fabric of the Universe isn't just a big web of lies.
You're probably thinking "Oh, this guy... So frickin' corny... I could do better.". Well, maybe you could, maybe you could. Then again, if what my mind tells me is correct, you would be but a figment of my imagination, making me that much more powerful.
Let me get on with it. I am a writer, Ferry Jubolt for the Daily Press, living in New York City, New York. I have written many, many stories to entertain, since I was little. But when I signed up for the Daily Press, I had to augment my skills as a writer. From mysteries, fantasies, and horror, came murder, news, and information. I had read up on many stories, some were entertaining, some depressing.
One was different. Oh, was it different... Well, let me get on with it, I might as well not look like a total idiot here.
On February 10th, 2011, I read up on a news press. My boss had told me to revise any errors, as I am the editor. I had done my fair share of work, as I reported multiple missing pages to a co-worker, seeing that who-ever originally published this was... Not very aware of his margin of error. Luckily, though, he got fired, but we're still looking for a publisher to help out the team. Business was slow, and I was almost happy to get the job, and I took it grace-fully, half-smiling to the boss as she handed it to me. As I began at work, I started to read through the thing, as most editors do. The news press was actually well-written, but a few missing words here and there.
I haven't told you what it was about. Let me do so. The story was about a new... Serial killer or some-thing. He wasn't a regular blood-shedding terrifying killer, he was more of a covert-operations killer. As far as we knew, he wasn't with a single organization. He had a strategy for killing. Who he killed, he had no strategy for. It was all kinds of people, skinny, fat, blonde, red-head, male, fe-male, you name it. There weren't even connections! Al-ways, before he killed, he would sneak past any guards of any sort, and force the victim asleep, by a twilight-sleep induced drug.
That day, supposedly the day the suspect would kidnap the victim, the victim dis-appeared with-out a single trace as to where the vic had went. As you can see, the guy knows how to handle situations. Exactly 7 days, one week, later, the victim would be found dead in almost al-ways the middle of the street. Most of the time, there were little to no bruising, a single penetration wound in the jugular vein or artery (usually both.), and a small branding that said "They woke up." on a random place post-mortem.
Luckily the suspect wasn't some crazy psycho-path that liked to spill guts. He was an organized being, with purpose... We think. Any-ways, on to the paper. The writing was in generally good condition, words were used perfectly, grammar was usually good, but just a few missing words. As I looked over the page, nothing eventful happened. Just page-over-page-over-page regularities, the missing word, mis-placed letter, you get the deal. The only strange thing that struck my eye was the signatures, and the very last paper. The signature was made with less haste than usual, and looked almost as if it were carved by an old artisan, and instead of the usual "Daily Press", it was "The Shaker".
The last paper was the only very weird thing about it. There were was absolutely nothing, no color, no signature, no cheesy font, other than the two words "Wake Up!" on the page. It wasn't just once it was written, it literally covered the entire page. Nothing but those two words could be seen. This was un-usual. It could've been a prank, but I don't think so, I have checked a heaving amount of papers, and nothing like this.
As I finished the first line of the two words (it was one huge repetitive sentence, nothing but a period at the very end.), I got up from my plush chair, and steadily paced across the full office room to my boss, not trying to stir up attention. Once I got to her office, she plucked her head up slightly to see why I had come in. "Ferry! What is it that bothers you?" she politely asked. I showed her the last page, the page filled with "Wake Up!", and she nearly froze in shock. She told me "I very briefly looked over the pages, and then the last. All of the pages were perfect. I never saw any-thing like this.". I looked at her with a small grin while my eyes said that she had 6 heads. She swore up-and-down that the page was radically different.
Walking back to my desk and office chair, un-satisfied, I was starting to get a head-ache and this page was a total mystery. I wanted to show it to some-one else, but no-body else had even seen it, so it was use-less. I read over the page for a short while, then I just got tired and sick of it, so I saved it for tomorrow.
After-wards, I left the office and trailed towards my blue Ford SUV. I was still a little edged about the paper, but I left it at the 'tomorrow' bin at my small office. When I started driving, I felt dizzy. It was nothing, though, so I kept on driving home. In a few minutes, that dizziness turned to a head-ache. I had experienced these so many times over, though, so I continued to drive home. Soon enough, the head-ache turned into a mind sundering migraine, so I stopped at a near-by McDonald's, ordered a medium chocalate milk-shake and small fries. I sat in-side, hoping my head-ache would dissipate. Surprisingly, that worked, so I gave the cashier a tip and headed off to my vehicle.
I entered my vehicle, started it up, but before I could even get half a mile, the head-ache returned, followed by that damned migraine! I knew I had to get home soon, as I need to work a few papers and revise a personal story I was writing on, but eventually even the very Universe seemed to twist and turn. It was barely notice-able at first, so stubbornly I continued to drive. I was less than 2 miles away from my house when the entire planet seemed like a fun-house mirror. Trees were dis-torting and I nearly got into a crash. I knew I couldn't drive any-more, so I got out my phone from my pocket.
The phone worked, but my mind didn't. I had a severe head-ache, what felt like a bad fever, and my vision became a fun-house glass eye. I tried to type in the number of my wife, but I blacked out before I could. It felt like for-ever... In a dream... The dream was so f---ing real, though, It made me question the very reality I 'supposedly' lived in. I was in a black room, with my vision tipsy and my limbs numb. I could barely walk in my dream, and when I did, I didn't feel heavy, but rather, I felt lighter than air. My legs were so wobbly, I crawled. The dream quickly turned into a night-mare, though, as I started to hear a faint whisper. The whisper was strange, it wasn't any language I could comprehend, I --
I realized what it was. It wasn't whispering, it was a... Ritualistic mumbling. As I crawled near the corner, I could see a huge marking on the floor, like the mark for the devil with the star and circle, but the star was more shaped like a diamond, and the circle wasn't a perfect circle, it had jagged edges like a voice sonogram. And then I saw it -- him, the killer. The serial Killer I was reviewing just a few hours ago! Oh my god... He... He was a devil worshiper?! No, that doesn't make sense... The killer looked towards me, but that face... I will never forget that face. His face had several sharp teeth, like a shark, his eyes were almost like humans, but just a little too impossibly large, -
and he had slits in-stead of pupils... His skin wasn't skin... It was metal.
Before I could get out of sight, he started towards me, clawing at my legs. It felt like a wolf was shredding it to pieces, but when I looked behind me, there was no blood, or even scratch marks. He came closer to me, or I came closer to him, and his mouth opened up, I could see end-less teeth, dis-figured faces on the tongue like sick taste-buds, and his esophagus was like a black hole. It widened, at first a small opened grin, to a smile too big for a human, to a face of emptiness, to a man-sized hole! It just kept getting bigger... And bigger... Until he threw up all over me.
I was tele-ported to a white room, filled with tools and clean as a marble statue. There was no-body around me and I was covered in a large, heavy white sheet. There was this hook in my exposed part of my elbow, with a light blue thick substance hooked up to it by a plastic tube! He must've been doing experiments on me! Then... His doctors came in, wearing these bloody masks, I thought they were his hench-man, so I threw a scalpel at the one on the left with my left hand, and he quickly dodged it. He was agile, and he was too tall to be human. What happened after was a blur. Struggle, drowsiness, and bruises. I don't really remember it... Strange.
I woke up again, in the exact same room, but my mind wasn't hindered by hallucinations, or fun-house mirroring or even a head-ache. As I looked around, I seen that the hook in my elbow was really a syringe, and the light blue liquid? It was medicine. The same two doctors (I think) came around, but they had perfect proportions, although one was quite tall. They talked to me in a calm voice, but I knew they had a sleep-inducing drug prepared for me in a syringe. I was suspicious at first, then asked what had happened. The results I got shocked me.
"You were kidnapped on the side of the road, and we saw you 5 days later in the middle of the free-way." The doctor on the right, the tall one, said to me. I thought I'd blacked out and then sent here so they could find out what happened. "Wait, what? That's... Some-thing like the new killer would do." I quickly said, the doctors replaced my suspicions with a mix of terror and relief. "It was the new killer. Wait, you mean the Serial Killer the Daily Press covered, correct?"
"Yes?"
"Yeah. We suspect he dragged you from where-ever you were, and then kept you for five days and put you in the middle of a frickin' free-way!" The doctor sounded so surprised as he finished the last part of his declaration. I knew what had happened. Suddenly, the dream that made me scream was the reality that made me think. Questions... So many questions... "Why did he only keep me for 5 days?", "How did he have that face?" "Why did no-body see me?" "How come he didn't kill me?" and so on, and so on. I got out of the hospital a day before expected, and made my way to my own home. I was home, but some-thing felt off. I know this sounds corny and cheesy and over-used written down, but there was some-thing nagging me that couldn't be tasted, heard, felt, or seen.
I impulsively started to look all around the 2-story house, and my wife and kids were sleeping, in the same bed. I checked the kitchen, and the pots, pans, and even bowls and stuffs were un-touched. I checked my room, and nothing was messed up except for a wrinkly comforter that my cat had nagged up. I then checked the lit attic, and what I seen nearly stopped me in my tracks. It was the god-damn serial killer! He was right there, looking straight at me. I knew I should've run, but the door down was locked! I couldn't leave. I grabbed a solitary knife, and held it up defensively. He just stood there, with a mask in-stead of a demonic face. He picked up a box, and un-locked it. I didn't know what was in-side, and he just slowly walked up to me, and I nearly stabbed him, but before I did, he interestingly said "Don't worry. You don't have to wake up yet.", then handed me the box.
After-wards, he ran away, and ducked in a corner. I thought he was stupid for trying to hide even when I knew where he was, but when I checked, nothing. Nothing. I dropped the box, and opened the attic door. It was un-locked! How in the hell did he do that?! I was about to leave the place when I saw a note that said "If you don't want to wake up and see the truth, then see the truth in the dream. Pick the box up.". I shivered down my spine, I'm not an easy man to scare, but this scared the living soul out of me. I climbed back up, picked up the box, and went to my bed-room to study it, all out of coerce.
When I entered the room, the b------ was sitting in my bed, petting my dog. I couldn't believe it, my dog was licking him, and he acted as if my dog (This is UN-necessary, but my dog's name? His name is Cleveland.) was the killer's own. It stared at me, or maybe he blinked, I couldn't see through that cold mask. Believe it or not, he telepathically spoke to me, I could hear it like a voice! The voice was telling me to sit down at my desk and open the box. I did, and in-side... Wasn't a gun, not a dagger... It was every piece of evidence I might want to turn him in, maybe even more! He took off his mask, revealing a Caucasian man, but half his face was still hidden. I picked up a picture, as he showed his full face, the faces were identical! I saw pictures of every victim, a small plastic bag of his blood, even his weapons! This made me fearful more than any-thing... But then I discovered a note. It said "Stay asleep."
I picked it up, and then my dog vanished, he vanished, my chair vanished, the entire room -- no, the planet was peeling away like rotting paper. Then I was in a dream-like state, and had all the truth. I could see my-self in third person, and I knew I was dreaming... With-in a dream. My desk returned, and I knew to write, and what to write. This is what I meant to write. Good-bye, and remember. You are either dreaming, or you don't exist, just a figment of my mind.
THIS is what I Just Found Out.
DONE. -
New jeff pasta.
check mine out a few pages back -
Joker it's good!
I will.
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