Top Rated Creepypastas of This Week

In Fetu

I’m a surgeon. Now, I’ve seen my fair share of strange medical events, But one event that I saw still haunts me to this day.

In fall of 1987, an extremely rare medical anomaly effected a poor 7 year old child by the name of William. I was working as head surgeon in the small town of Montrose, Colorado. William had been going to his pediatrician complaining of extreme pains coming from his belly. He told doctors he had a “man” living inside of him who refused to leave him alone night or day. He said he would hurt him in random places, as if he was pulling on marinate strings. He could be seen cringing and crying in the doctor’s office, pleading for an ease to the excruciating pain. His mother was extremely worried and demanded assistance. The doctor did a full examination him and found nothing wrong. He promptly told his mother to take him home, and prescribed strong painkillers.

A few weeks passed, with the boy’s pain worsening. The doctor was baffled. He continued to find nothing wrong, prescribing stronger and stronger painkillers. One day, the mother returned, this time frantic. She came in screaming that her son was dying, and that he was bleeding profusely.…

Not All Secrets Are Taken To The Grave

I’ve always found it particularly difficult to start a story. It’s easy to end one, but ever since grade school when my teachers would make me write a short story, I could never make a good start. I suppose I’ll start by saying this is a story. A story about my best friend. He died about 2 years ago. He was in his living room, sitting, watching tv, and he had a heart attack. And boom. Just like that he’s dead. Gone. Bye bye. See you later. It was really shocking when I found out.

He was a hard working man who was a mechanic. He always was sweating from physical labor. It didn’t make any sense how he could have possibly died from a blocked artery. But I guess somethings aren’t always what they seem in this life. We went to his funeral. It was a simple service, family and friends of his showed up. We said a few words about him. We cried and all the usual stuff at a funeral. Then we put him in the ground. And we left.

I got over his death ok. I was sad for quite a while but I knew that he wouldn’t want me to sit there sad all the time.…

Before They Do

They are going to kill you. You just know they are. You sit here, in the back area of the white van. It’s devoid of anything, except the chair you sit in, and a white, metal floor with a screwdriver laying lazily near the wall. A fluorescent bulb hangs on the ceiling nearby, casting an erie white glow around the place. There are no windows, and everything not illuminated by the bulb is pitch black. You can’t move anything.

Solid metal bands hold every one of your limbs in place, their hard, sharp surfaces digging into your skin despite your clothes covering it. They cover every area where a joint would be, restricting your movements, forcing you to keep the limbs straight. The bands are even around your fingers, one for each knuckle you have. Including the little knuckle that’s near your fingernail. The joints of your wrists, elbows, knees, hips, ankles and toes, completely kept in place. Everytime you try to move, the edges of the bands dig into your joints, cutting them. It’s a futile effort. You can hear screaming. A person’s voice can be heard, just outside the double doors of the van. They’re screaming and you can hear laughter.…

Real Dangers

I awoke to the sound of my cell phone ringing. I opened bleary eyes to see it was still very dark outside. What time was it?

After about 5 or 6 rings, the caller gave up. I was tired, but sleep would not come again. Annoyed, I decided I might as well see who it was that was bothering people at this time of night. The number was not one I recognized. I sent a simple text message asking “Who are you?”

Almost immediately, I got a reply. But it was not my original caller. It was the automatic mailer daemon telling me that my message was undeliverable. The reason was because the number I tried to send it to wasn’t a real phone number. What did that mean? I was about to try actually calling, when my phone rang again, shocking me and making me jump. The identity of the caller was the same as the one my phone just told me didn’t exist. It rang once, twice, and then fell silent.

Though the thought crossed my mind, I knew better than to believe I might be getting a phone call from the beyond or some silly nonsense like that.…

Can I Play With Madness

2 Thessalonians 2:11- and for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie:

I am Robert Hall- a twenty year old journalism major at the University of Louisville. Ever since I was a child I’ve dreamed of being a writer. I used to carry a pad and pencil everywhere with me to conduct interviews with the neighbors. I used to interview everyone from older couples bringing home groceries, to the parents of the children I was friendly with. I even interviewed the ice cream man a few times, all in the name of a somewhat fictional newspaper of my imagination. This behavior was initially encouraged by everyone around town: shop owners and the local barber didn’t bat an eye at being asked if they had a few minutes to answer some questions.

As I got older the passion for writing never wavered. I wrote myriad of well received essays and stories all throughout grade school. However my penchant for scribing left me virtually friend-less. I didn’t really mind, except for the nights when I found myself the victim of writer’s block and had no one to hang out with. I often thought to myself that it was all part of the sacrifice.…

Aokigahara Diary

Day 1

I want to start off by saying, I didn’t plan on coming here. My gambling tendencies got the best of me. Before I get ahead of myself, let me elaborate. On New Year’s Eve me and a buddy got really drunk and he started telling me about Aokigahara, or more well known as, the Suicide Forest in Japan. He went on to tell me the horror stories of all the deaths, and hangings and I just figured he was full of shit. When I told him so, he didn’t seem to pleased and bet me $600 that I couldn’t last a month in the forest. Against my better judgment, I agreed and took the next flight to Japan. I was also told that I have to keep a journal with me at all times. He made it very clear that he wants an entry for everyday his exact words being, “write your heart out! But don’t loose your head!”. I hate to tell him that if nothing interesting happens, he’s not getting an entry. Besides, the deal was that I last a month. Anyway, along with this journal I packed a month’s worth of bottled water and canned food for my trip as well as all the other camping essentials.…

If That Dress Could Talk

“So what’s your story, morning glory?” he asked her, staring into her big brown eyes. They were like two magnets pulling him in. Of all the juke joints in town, he had to walk into this one. Where he would see this exotic gold skinned beauty in a dress that could cure cancer. It was a red dress. One that had seen its share of blood and lives fucked up beyond redemption. If dresses could talk, this one could write an encyclopedia of misery.

He hadn’t given any of this the slightest thought. He just wanted to wet his whistle (and something else) that night. Seeing this kind of beauty in a place like this had to be a fluke of some sort. Maybe she’s married or just feeling lonely tonight and just needs to get laid, he thought. Why else would she be in a place like this? This is one classy woman!

Joseph couldn’t break eye contact with the woman. She had him under her spell, whatever sort of who-doo it was. She never uttered a word, just looked into his eyes and then down and away, occasionally with a hint of sorrow for decoration. This only added to her mystique and beauty.…

Killer Of Fowl

Why is this happening to me? I’m not a bad person! I’ve never hurt anyone; hell, I’ve never even cheated on a math test! So, why is it here? Why did it choose me?

I’m in the hall closet on the second floor, while that “thing” wanders around my home, searching for me! It’s the only place I can hide, the only place I feel safe! I don’t plan on staying here long, just long enough for it to pass me by. Then, I’ll make a run for the front door downstairs!

I’d only heard bits and pieces of this thing! This killer! I heard about it on the news, but never thought I’d ever come face to face with it! But here I am, sitting in a closet, hiding from it! But why? I didn’t do anything! It’s not fair!

Oh god, I hear it coming up the stairs! Heavy footsteps followed by a loud echoing thud! It’s upstairs, at the end of the hall! Please, I don’t deserve this! I hear slow footsteps and something dragging against the hard wood floor, heading in my direction.

My heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest! My breathing is so heavy that I have to cover my mouth to keep from making a sound.…


A scream rang out. As I traced the auditory source of evident horror, I was led to my daughters room. I looked around quickly as I caught my breath from the reacting sprint, but nothing seemed out of place other than that tearing of a child under the bed. As I glimpsed at what might have caused any of this I noticed her new doll, limbs contorted, across the room.

Going over to the bed to console her, “Honey what’s wrong?”

Still sniffling, she managed to utter while shaking her finger towards the direction of the doll, “Its gonna hurt me!

I bent over to the doll causing her to turtle more under the bed and gave the doll a funny glimpse. It seemed to have a tidy set up, but the face gave an emotionless disheveled appearance. I walked over to the bed and got on all fours to reach my daughters face and held the doll next to me and gave it a shake

“See? Nothing’s wrong. It won’t hurt you honey. She just wants to play” I said with a grin, pulling my daughter out handing her back the doll in her shaking hands.

“Now be careful honey, and as for your friend, you wouldn’t hurt my precious girl, right?” I said jokingly and gave the dolls hair a rub.…

Mr. Tickletwist

I live in a small village in the Western Countryside of England though I better not tell you which, for your own safety above all else. A lot of this won’t make sense at first but bare with me, theres a lot I need to say. Let me just start from the beginning.

My village has a population of 178 people at the time of writing this, the oldest being my grandfather. Now he isn’t just well known around the village because of that, he is also the only living person in the village alive when ‘Fantasmo’s Funland’ was still open. ‘Fantasmo’s Funland’ was a Carnival open between 1956-59. The reason the Carnival closed after only 3 years of service was because one day in June of ’59 Fantasmo got up and left, without warning, well according to my Grandfather anyway. My grandfather was six at the time, the first and last time he went to that Carnival. His mother had terminal cancer and only had mere months to live, while his father was lost at sea when he was just mere months old. His mother wanted make every last second with her son a memorable one, so she took him to ‘Fantasmo’s Funland’.…

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