Top Rated Creepypastas of This Week

I Don’t Sleep Much Anymore

I haven’t been sleeping much anymore. My two room apartment has a window right next to my bed. I’ve started to notice something odd about the people going by. Have you ever seen how video game characters don’t seem to walk? They just glide forward while doing a walking animation, like a reverse moonwalk. That’s what they do, they don’t tip forward with each step, and they keep their torsos completely straight and legs moving beneath them while drifting past my window.

The other thing I find weird about them is that all of them are very, very smartly dressed. All the women wear long victorian looking dresses with puffy, usually red or blue short sleeves. The men all wear tuxedos with pants that go very far up their torsos. Some of the older men have short black canes with metal balls on the top.

They walk by my window every day, about two per minute, their timing not changing when the sky goes dark.

There is still one thing I can’t quite figure out though.

I live on the sixteenth floor.…

Desktop

I was so happy to get this computer. For the last three years I’ve been on a laptop. Long story, boring, but let’s just say a fire took out my desktop and half the apartment complex I lived in while I was at school, and the insurance money would only cover a laptop.

But that feels like forever ago and work’s been good to me lately. I’m one of those freelancers that, not by choice, scrapes by doing odd illustration work, graphic design, that sort of thing, but lately it’s been less scraping and steadier work. I might get out of the bottom of the barrel at this rate.

Maybe.

Because, you see, I might be losing my mind. I’m kind of worried if I tell anyone this you’re going to say I’m, in the psychological professional parlance, “batshit crazy.” But I really, really need to get this out there. It’s probably just nerves or something, you know?

More on the batshitness in a minute.

So after three years of a tiny screen and six months of nicer and nicer bank account statements, I finally felt good enough about my income I decided to get a desktop again. Bought it two months ago.…

The Filmmaker

A lot of these stories start off with, “I don’t know why I’m writing this.” Well, this isn’t one of them tales. In fact, I knew full well I should be writing this, even though I was told not to. I can’t in good conscious not tell this story.

It all started on the third day of submissions to the local Horror short film festival in western Sydney. It wasn’t a large festival and there had not been many entries, however, some of the films entered were actually pretty good. They ranged from thrillers, action, to science fiction, and it didn’t matter in this festival what genre it was. All that mattered was that the film did not go over 15 minutes and it was scary to say the least. Now, this is where the tale starts. There was one film submitted that did send chills down our spines, striking us at our very core. Maybe it was just the way it was filmed, a shaky camera style just like that of the Blair witch project… Or maybe it was the fact that it was filmed in a first person’s point of view style, but in truth this didn’t matter.

“Who submitted this one,” John asked, inspecting a brown envelope with the words “The Filmmaker” written across the front in a faded red ink.…

Poodle Cut

In the summer of 1996, the town of Newport Bay was struck by an odd and gristly phenomenon. Earlier that year, the employees of a small animal shelter had been found mauled and eaten, by what appeared to be a rather large animal. The location and severity of the wounds added to the already powerful feelings of dread, fear and paranoia the residents were experiencing. Being eaten alive is often thought to be one of the worst ways to go, and while everyone has their own opinions on the worst ways to die, no one really wants to dwell on this morbid topic for long.
Those unfortunate enough to hear the news, or even worse; be at the scene and accidentally witness the bloody corpses as they were being dragged away by paramedics, were no different. It was said to have caused a lump to rise within their throats, and even the bravest of folks had grown sick and pale. But perhaps the mist unsettling fact of all, was that the animal responsible had never been found. Around the town, paranoia was beginning to take hold. Mothers refused to let their children outside to play, parks went unused, and grown men found themselves looking over their shoulders in sweat-inducing anxiety.…

My Pal Scout

Everyone in my family has one thing in common. We all love dogs. They’re just so enjoyable, loyal, and all around pleasant to be around. My five-year old son is no different. From the time he could talk, he’s been constantly asking for a puppy of his very own. I of course, being a fellow dog lover would have been happy to oblige, but there is one tiny problem. We live in a suburban apartment complex; it’s cozy, but unfortunately, as is often the case with rental property, we aren’t allowed to have any pets. Of course, this is not the reasoning that would be accepted, let alone understood by a toddler.

They’re so innocent at this age. I remember trying to explain it to him anyway, even if he didn’t entirely understand the logic behind it. To tell you the truth, I’m not entirely sure that I do. I told him that some places have rules, and that the people who make these rules have their reasons. In the case of an apartment building, most likely a snub nosed landlord who can’t stand the thought of dogs barking at night or pee stains on their precious cheap carpet. I remember the look on his little face, his big brown eyes wide in questioning wonder.…

The Watchtower

People always have pondered what another intelligent being would be like. They’ve always theorized that these beings would be light years away and that us, humans, would be dead a very long time before we ever made contact with them. Other people say that they have already met them after being abducted and experimented on. Then some will say that we are the only intelligent being there are or ever will be. Well, I can say one thing for sure and that’s no one was right. We were all so very wrong…

Back when I was a teenager, I’ll admit I was a smoker and an avid drug user. I’d done most drugs that were deemed “safe” from my friends such as LSD, MDMA, DMT, many prescription drugs, and I even had a phase where I did some over-the-counter drugs. As a teen, I like to think I played it smart by only doing those every so often and stick with my main fix. Weed.

I used weed almost as a social tool to some extent. What I mean by that is it got me to meet people who all were similar to me in at least the one aspect; we just wanted to get high.…

Polybius

Polybius is an urban legend about a rare arcade game released in 1981. The game was created by a mysterious company called Sinneslöschen (German for “Sense Deletion”) and was a puzzle/shoot-‘em-up somewhat like Tempest. It was only released in a few suburbs of Portland, Oregon.

It was supposedly very popular, with people forming long lines to play it. However, players reported strange things about the game, such as hearing a woman crying and seeing grotesque faces out of the corner of their eyes. Players would also have nightmares, experienced nausea, headaches, blackouts or even develop amnesia. Some even committed suicide. Others stopped playing video games altogether and at least one became an anti-video game activist. According to one owner of an arcade, men wearing black suits would often come to collect “records” from the game.

They did not take any money, simply data on gameplay. Because of this, the leading theory is that it was some sort of government experiment using subliminal messages. The game remains in obscurity as around one month after its release, all of the cabinets suddenly disappeared. One cabinet reappeared in an arcade 1998, but quickly disappeared again. While some have tried to recreate the game, no one has ever found the original ROM.…

God’s Mouth

I huffed and puffed under my breath as I stared into God’s Mouth. I felt like the Big Bad Wolf ready to interrupt the innocent little pigs as they hurriedly fortified their makeshift homes. I grinned at this thought and then turned my head to look for Margaret. She was a couple of feet down the hill from the entrance of the cave, holding a walking stick close to her petite breasts. “Hurry up!” I called down to her. I turned back to the cave, still grinning. An old, rotted sign outside read ‘God’s Mouth Cave: Keep Out!’ What a tired cliché.

Margaret finally made it to the entrance and stood beside me, almost doubled over and out of breath. I looked down and smiled. “Check it out!” I laughed. “God’s mouth. Wonder where Jesus’ anus is?” I chuckled to myself. Margaret was less amused.

“Give me the damn water bottle,” she said, exasperated. The open bottle met her lips, and for a moment I felt peaceful in a way, watching her drink the water. Actually I take that back. The ‘peaceful’ comment, I mean. It was more of a feeling that was sort of hard to put my finger on or give a name, but I could settle for a nice ‘content’.…

The Grater

Chad’s stomach growled. He knew the only way he could satisfy this new hunger was with nachos, as he had done so many times in the past. Each nacho was a piece of the hunger puzzle in his stomach, and the pieces always lined up perfectly.

While his ingredients would vary, one thing about the process remained the same: the cheese grater his aunt Broomhilda gave him on her death bed. “With every grate,” she whispered, “you become so much greater.” And then she died, leaving a young Chad alone in the hospital, clutching the cheese grater that’s been in the family for months. Ever since, Chad has made it his mission to use his aunt’s grater during every cheese related endeavor. It was more than a piece of metal; it was a piece of her. In fact, sometimes when he shredded the cheese, he could hear his aunt talking to him.

“I’m proud of you.”

Shred.

“Make sure the oven is on at 365 degrees.”

Shred.

And so today, like so many days before, Chad set out to prepare nachos. He had such rhythm. Da Vinci himself would shed a tear at Chad’s nacho cuisine; which makes this all the more tragic.…

The Cursed One

Those eyes, those. Horrible. Staring eyes. It took me a moment to re-gain composure and spin around to await the fate of my life, as I turn a piercing, tearing sensation fills the back of my neck, I cannot scream, I cannot move I am helpless, staring blankly with an expressionless face and in an instant the blade is twisted, I writhe in agony and then simply. I wake up.

A new life, a new surrounding, new attire and a single candle dimly glowing and providing just enough light to see the claustrophobic pit of jagged rocks and stalactites that hang over me close enough that I can feel their sharp points scraping into the crown of my skull I turn around slowly making sure to stay low and I am presented by a solid, cave wall. The candle now burning shorter and shorter due to the lack of oxygen is then blown out by a gush of wind from a small crack in the roof of the cave, and there for what feels like hours I am left once again staring blankly with nothing but my confusing thoughts of my dream, am I dreaming still? A new dream? My confusion is shattered by the discovery of another flat wall as I slide my hand eagerly along the pitch black cave wall.…

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