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[Angellus]

Been to this page?

http://encyclopediadramatica.com/Creepypasta

It has that picture right above it also, lots of stories

[Eagle]

Been to this page?

http://encyclopediadramatica.com/Creepypasta

It has that picture right above it also, lots of stories

Yep, ive been there. Know the Holders series? Someone posted one way back on like page 2.

EDIT: here

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

In a certain area of a city somewhere in Western Philadelphia is an area of flat concrete, the kind of place used as a basketball court or similar, near to a school building. If you wait in this area on the 10th September, you will eventually be approached by two youths with an aggressive demeanor about them. The youths will challenge you to a fight, which you must accept. Following the brawl, return to your home. It is important that you tell your mother of this incident. She will become perturbed by your tale, and order you to leave for an area of Los Angeles. You will be compelled to obey her. At the nearest taxi rank, whistle for a cab and one will approach. You may see that its license plate reads "FRESH", and there will be novelty dice dangling from the rear-view mirror. Do not be disturbed by the odor of the cab's interior, and speak only the words "Yo home, to Bel Air" to the driver. When you arrive in Los Angeles, which should be around the hours of 7:00 or 8:00 PM, you must speak again to the driver, this time saying "Yo home, smell ya' later". DO NOT LOOK BACK AS THE TAXI LEAVES. You will be dropped off at the entrance to a large mansion. Approach the door and knock three times. If you follow these instructions exactly, you will be allowed to claim your place as the Prince of this area of Los Angeles, known only as "Bel-Air". You will be led to a room with an enormous throne, encrusted with the largest diamonds and fashioned from the purest of gold. This throne is object 539 of 538. Sit on it, and ponder what to do next.

[Angellus]

Is that a series? Because I can not understand what could be creepy about this first part...

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I was exhausted. I had just gotten home from another day of forced monotony that we call a job. I wanted nothing more than to kick back with a cold beer and watch the hockey game. I walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer before shambling to the entertainment room. Still warm. Damn. I sat down in my comfiest recliner. The footrest sprung up, and I pushed the back down far enough so I could just see the TV. I grabbed the remote and hit the power button. The TV flickered on, filling the room with the sound of hockey. It wasn’t the same without the cold beer.

I reluctantly sat back up and got out of my chair, and made my way to the stairs leading up to the attic.

I pushed the door open and stepped into the dark, musty room, thick with the stench of mold. I grabbed the flashlight that I kept by the attic door and clicked it on. I made my way around all the boxes, coming to the back of the attic. There I found the fuse box. I set the flashlight down and began to tinker with the fuses. A bit of light caught the corner of my right eye. I thought nothing of it, being too predisposed with my task. I finished fixing the fuse and turned to my right to grab the flashlight. But it wasn’t there. I put the flashlight down with my left hand. That’s when it hit me. Where did that light I saw come from? I recollected the flashlight and walked to the right of where I was. It didn’t take me long. I came to the side of my attic, where a crack in the wall was shining a brilliant white. I thought that maybe this was the end of my house, and the crack led to outside. But that was impossible. There was way more house below this light, and it couldn’t lead outside. It was nighttime.

I should have walked away, forgotten about it. Hell, if it was the middle of the day I probably would have. But my curiosity got the better of me. I used the butt-end of the flashlight to hammer through the wood where the light was emanating from. The larger I made the hole, the brighter my attic got. Soon, the hole was large enough for me to crawl through. I steeled myself before sticking my head through the hole. I came out in a room much like my rec room at home, but lit up by beautiful sunlight. I stood up and looked around. First thing I noticed was it was perfectly clean. Not a thing out of place, no dust anywhere. The second thing I noticed was the window. I walked over and looked out. What I saw was amazing. It was a small little village. Small houses placed close together. I figured I was crazy. I went back through the hole and shoved a box in the way to block the light coming through. I went back downstairs to my entertainment room and turned on the hockey game.

I forgot about the hole for weeks. My life was pretty normal. I followed the usual routine of work and friends, and when the hole did cross my mind, I passed it off as a dream. But the thoughts became more and more frequent. I became less and less sure of the idea that the hole was a dream. I had to go back.

I decided that tonight was the night I go through the hole again. I’ve been preparing myself for days. I know I can’t do this, but I know I have to. I work my way slowly to the attic and slide the box out of the way. Yes, the hole is still there. I was hoping it wasn’t. But I knew I had to go on. I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled forward through the hole. I found myself one more in that same room again. I walked to the window to see nothing had changed. Everything was still the same. I wanted to go outside, to explore, but there was no door. I slid the window open and dropped down onto the perfectly manicured grass. I decided to go left. I just walked. I wanted to know what this place was.

I actually passed a few people on the streets as I went. They smiled and waved. Perfectly friendly. I passed a library, a hospital… all perfect. Clean, fully functional… It was amazing.

That was a month ago. I’ve been living here ever since. But recently… I’ve been feeling different. Seeing things I know aren’t there. Horrible images. Images you should not see. Images I cannot even begin to describe. I’ve also been struck with an insatiable thirst for bloodshed. For flesh. For death at my own hands. I crave the feeling of entrails wrapping around my hands.

I went to the library and looked at a book of the towns history. What I saw… Oh god. Every forty years, the town entices one member of our world to theirs. This person is charged with the task of venturing into their world, and receiving all the accumulated evil from the last forty years. Their world is allowed to exist in perfect harmony at the expense of one of ours.

But… I can’t cope with this anymore. These images. This thirst. This… primal hunger for death. I don’t want to do this. I think I’m ready to come home…

Excerpt taken from the Journal of Jeffrey Dahmer, 1978.

I like this one a lot, it has a fairytale like thing in it.

[Eagle]

The one i quoted was a fake one. The actual first one is as follows:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the End".

Should a look of child-like fear come over the workers face, you will then be taken to a cell in the building. It will be in a deep hidden section of the building. All you will hear is the sound of someone talking to themselves echo the halls. It is in a language that you will not understand, but your very soul will feel unspeakable fear.

Should the talking stop at any time, STOP and QUICKLY say aloud "I'm just passing through, I wish to talk." If you still hear silence, flee. Leave, do not stop for anything, do not go home, don't stay at an inn, just keep moving, and sleep where your body drops. You will know in the morning if you've escaped.

If the voice in the hall comes back after you utter those words continue on. Upon reaching the cell all you will see is a windowless room with a person in the corner, speaking an unknown language, and cradling something. The person will only respond to one question: "What happens when they all come together?"

The person will then stare into your eyes and answers your question in horrifying detail. Many go mad in that very cell, some disappear soon after the meeting, and a few end their lives. But most do the worst thing and look upon the object in the person's hands. You will want to as well. Be warned, if you do your death will be that of cruelty and unrelenting horror. Your death will be in that room, by that person's hands.

This object is 1 of 538. They must never come together. Never.

Wanna read more? Theres too many, so its tl;dr for me, but heres the link.
http://theholders.org/?Special:Series_List

Also, its sorta sad that we're the only two posting in here.

EDIT: Ohhh, found a good one

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

In many stores and establishments that provide videos of a less than savory manner, a business card is kept. Some stores keep it well hidden, locked in a safe, and will deny its existence. Others will show you if you ask for it by name. None will have it displayed in the open.

On this card is a name, "Moonlight Films", and a contact number. It is always a local number. Go to any payphone in your city and dial the number. The answer will be prompt but all you will hear is silence. Wait thirty seconds. Then you will be served.

A dry, monotone male voice will ask you a question: "Is the road from life to death dark?" The correct response is: "It is moonlit."

If you answer with anything but the correct reply, he will hang up on you. If you fail the first time, I'd suggest not trying again. But if the question is answered properly, the man will say one address in your city and then hang up.

Go to this address and you will find that it is a small, dingy apartment. The carpet will be dirty, the wallpaper flaking and wrinkled, the windows cracked. It will smell of tobacco smoke and decay. On the stained old coffee table there will be a paper bag. On this bag your full name will be written in red sharpie.

Open the bag and you will find an unlabeled video tape. Take it and place exactly $10.99 in the bag then leave.

You can watch the tape if you like, but you don't have to. I warn you: it's not pleasant. You will see a room or chamber papered in dessicated skin, the furniture will be crafted from flesh and bone. The tape will last approximately 32 minutes and will depict the murder of a person and the subsequent crafting of their body into furnishing - lampshades made of skin, tables made of bone.

After renting the tape for one week, you must return it to the apartment by sliding it through the mail slot when the time is up. After that, never return to the apartment and definitely don't call the number ever again.

I'd also suggest you not keep the tape more than a week. The owners will not be satisfied with a mere late fee - and you know, a good home can never have enough accessories.

[Angellus]

The one i quoted was a fake one. The actual first one is as follows:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the End".

Should a look of child-like fear come over the workers face, you will then be taken to a cell in the building. It will be in a deep hidden section of the building. All you will hear is the sound of someone talking to themselves echo the halls. It is in a language that you will not understand, but your very soul will feel unspeakable fear.

Should the talking stop at any time, STOP and QUICKLY say aloud "I'm just passing through, I wish to talk." If you still hear silence, flee. Leave, do not stop for anything, do not go home, don't stay at an inn, just keep moving, and sleep where your body drops. You will know in the morning if you've escaped.

If the voice in the hall comes back after you utter those words continue on. Upon reaching the cell all you will see is a windowless room with a person in the corner, speaking an unknown language, and cradling something. The person will only respond to one question: "What happens when they all come together?"

The person will then stare into your eyes and answers your question in horrifying detail. Many go mad in that very cell, some disappear soon after the meeting, and a few end their lives. But most do the worst thing and look upon the object in the person's hands. You will want to as well. Be warned, if you do your death will be that of cruelty and unrelenting horror. Your death will be in that room, by that person's hands.

This object is 1 of 538. They must never come together. Never.

Wanna read more? Theres too many, so its tl;dr for me, but heres the link.
http://theholders.org/?Special:Series_List

Also, its sorta sad that we're the only two posting in here.

So what?

Have you ever heard of the parrot?

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I cannot seem to see what is so scary about it.

------

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The Administrator
In Columbia, S.C. there is an abandoned insane asylum on the corner of Bull and Elmwood. Should you enter it and travel up through it’s winding stairs to the second floor you will find a large treatment area.

There is a table opposite to the entrance of this room which is piled high with hundreds of razor blades. Many people have reported a strange urge to take one of these rusted blades and cut a small X into the center of their forehead in a location corresponding with the pineal gland.

Few ever give into this urge, but those who push aside their fears of tetanus or other infection have reported a sudden blinding headache and a whiting out of vision. When they regained some sense sight they all claimed to have witnessed black humanoid silhouettes upon further investigation of the asylum. These shadow people never have been known to interact with these people, generally just emitting an ætheric muttering from unformed lips as if whispering to themselves. Others seem content in simply huddling their dark masses in the corners of the hallways and cells.

Select people, however, have reported encountering a shadow entity they universally called ‘the administrator.’ This being was said to be sitting inside the administrative officer, made of dark shifting energies akin to the other shadow inhabitants, but with a few consistent discernable features. These included a dark hood obscuring much of it’s ‘face’ and glowing eyes that seemed to reflect the light of the room. Strangest of all, ‘the administrator’ is always said to posses what appears to be akin to a canine muzzle with rows of sharp teeth.

All who have encountered him have fled instantly, fearing the sharp unmistakable malignancy and intelligence housed within his dark eyes. A few people have even reported a later sensation of always being watched, occasionally catching out of the corner of their eyes glimpses of a large black dog.

I kind of like this one too.
There are whole sites on these things!

[Eagle]

No idea with the parrot thing.

[Angellus]

kj, too bad, I wish I knew how it worked

New one, nice and creepy on the psycological part.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The Guardian Angel
And I am always with you.

I was there from the time you were born. I stood in the delivery room, staring down at you before you could even open your eyes to see me. Your parents, relatives and doctors couldn’t see me there, in the corner, watching you with cloudy eyes, but I was there from the time you were born.

And I followed you home.

I was with you always, your constant companion. You played with your toys alone while I stared from all angles in nearby mirrors; my matted, clotted hair with oily sweat that hung off my dented forehead like glue. I was always your constant companion, drifting behind your mother’s car on your ride to preschool. You alone in the bathroom, but I was on the other side of the door, wind whistling through the bruised hole in my throat. My arms twisted and hanging in their sockets as I stood hunched on the other side of the shower curtain. I wait and follow you. I follow and drift behind you.

I’m not seen. I’m almost not-there in light. You never saw me that morning as I sat across from you at the breakfast table, a shiny red clot hanging from an empty tooth socket as I gaped grotesquely at you. I wonder sometimes if you know I’m there. I think you are aware, but you’ll never understand just how close I am.


I spend hours of your day doing nothing more than breathing in your ear.

Breathing – gagging, really.

I crave to be close to you, to always wrap my crippled arms around your neck. I lie near you ever single night, cloudy eyes staring at your ceiling, underneath your bed, at your sleeping face in the dark.

Yes. You caught me staring occasionally. Your parents came running down to your room one night when you screamed. You were just beginning to talk, so you were only able to cry out “Man! Man in my room!” You thought you’d never forget the sight of me, with my collapsed jaw hanging to my chest, swinging back and forth. I sank back into your closet and your mother was unable to see me though you pointed and pointed and pointed. You thought you’d never forget when they left that same night. You saw the closet door crack so softly and me crawling across the floor to your bed on all fours, shambling in jerking movements as I pushed myself under your bed on disjointed limbs.

You learned a new word for me: boogeyman. Not quite the monster you thought I was. I’m just waiting and following you always, touching your face with my knotted fingers as you sleep.

You’ll see me again soon. Any day now, I’m coming, blunt and brutal. One day you’ll walk across the road and – I believe I’ll plow into you with loud roar and a screech.

You rolling on the pavement, rolling under wheels, bluntforce metal fenders and my fingers touching your face again and again.

As you stare up from the cold pavement with cloudy eyes; your matted, clotted hair hanging in your face and your jaw unhinged and swinging to your chest.

You’ll see me approaching.

No one else will see me. You will stare past them into my eyes and I’ll leer down at you. For the first time in our life, something like a smile will come over my face. You’ll swear you’re looking into a mirror as clotted red bubbles from our mouths.

I’ll lean down, past the doctors and the oogling people and pick you up in my crooked arms.

Our faces will touch. My wings will unfurl. And then you’ll have to follow me.

And I am always with you.

I am your guardian angel.

[Eagle]

Yeah, thats a nice one.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

In rural southern Illinois a toy company began selling "realistic" baby dolls to expectant mothers. But apparently after the mother had her child the toy baby would start crying. Eventually the "rocking motion" advertised to calm it down wouldn't work, and you couldn't get it to stop without shaking it. Eventually when it started crying the parent would have to beat it, and the beatings and thrashings would have to get harder and harder to get it to be quiet. The only thing that seemed to shut the baby doll up permanently was the bash its head against the wall to destroy whatever mechanism triggered the crying. On more than one occasion though, neighbors called the authorities to report child abuse, and when the police arrived they found the bloody remains of infants smeared across the walls and the floor. In most cases the mother couldn't understand why the police were there, she just "got rid of the stupid doll" as she rocked a baby-shaped bundle in her arms.

[Eagle]

Short but good.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

A recent study by the National Psychiatric Institute in Boston, Massachusetts, concluded that no activity can account for the phenomenon known as nightmares.

Whereas many dreams come from unconscious desires, most nightmares seem to come from an outside source independent of the individual. In fact, when subjects are asked to recall nightmares they are almost always found in the same memory section as actual physical memories, not the section where normal dreams are replayed.

So, in other words, those aliens and creatures you see at night in your "dreams"?

They're real.

[Leafsnail]

Short but good.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

A recent study by the National Psychiatric Institute in Boston, Massachusetts, concluded that no activity can account for the phenomenon known as nightmares.

Whereas many dreams come from unconscious desires, most nightmares seem to come from an outside source independent of the individual. In fact, when subjects are asked to recall nightmares they are almost always found in the same memory section as actual physical memories, not the section where normal dreams are replayed.

So, in other words, those aliens and creatures you see at night in your "dreams"?

They're real.

Eh, kinda lame.  Plus, surely the fact that my nightmares are real is counteracted by the fact that all the awesome stuff I dream about is also real.

[Angellus]

There also is this one which has a sexual picture of a girl lying on the bed, after you're happy with it you read on and notice it's a dead girl.

[Eagle]

Also from 4chan.

[Jreengus]

If the dead girl picture is the one I remember I seem to remember a lot of argument over that. Mainly because the claim she's dead is based on the fact she has a coroners tag on even though shes lying in a bed in a house so it's unlikely they would have put a tag on her without actually moving her to a morgue or anything.

[Eagle]

If the dead girl picture is the one I remember I seem to remember a lot of argument over that. Mainly because the claim she's dead is based on the fact she has a coroners tag on even though shes lying in a bed in a house so it's unlikely they would have put a tag on her without actually moving her to a morgue or anything.

Yeah, they also point out small stuff on her (a pendant i think) thats been moved around. I think its just someone pretending to be dead.

[Angellus]

hmmm... reading on now.