Creepy Pasta Collection

Creepy Pasta is a phrase defining a certain sort of scary story or collection of stories, usually extremely short ones with either paranormal elements, definitely bizarre bits - or both - that are designed to shock and frighten the audience. The tales may have cautionary tones but mostly, they are intended to "spook" and cause emotional discomfort in listeners.

Creepy Pasta often fall under the heading of "urban legend" but usually lack narrative plot found in most urban legends. They are an awful lot like "Flash Fiction" in that usually the most gripping aspect of the narrative is the short length...the audience rarely has time to second-guess, think critically, or question what is being told/written and a limited scenario is given so the audience has very little to work with, except the shocking or macabre details of the Creepy Pasta tale.

Sort of like eating questionable pasta...one can gobble the stuff yet get sick from a slightly soured or tainted sauce and only notice the sourness after it is already ingested.

Creepy Pasta is also, quite literally - a bit of urban lingo, related to another slang phrase, `copy pasta`. Copy pasta is text that is copied and pasted around emails and online but it`s hard to track down where the original text came from.

William McKinley, 25th President of the United States was assassinated September 6, 1901 by a man described as an anarchist, a Mr. Leon Czolgosz, who was quickly tried in a court of law and sentenced to be executed promptly.

At Auburn Prison in Auburn, New York, on October 29, 1901, Mr. Czolgosz was placed in an electric chair and electrocuted until death did occur.

Among his effects when his cell was cleaned out was a U.S. quarter, stamped with the year 2218. The face on the quarter wasn't George Washington but instead - was an unknown face that is yet to be identified.

In a small town in Maryland, a 15 year old youth came home from school, sat down to his computer and logged into an instant messaging program. Right away, he was surprised to see a message from his friend who had been absent from school that day. The boy clicked the message and read:

"Please Come"

Just those two words.

The boy messaged back, asking his friend why he`d been absent from school but after a few minutes without a reply, he repeated his message, asking why his friend hadn`t come to school. Finally, after another 15 minutes with no reply, the boy decided to just hop on his bike and go over to his friend`s house.

When he got to his schoolmate`s house, the door was unlocked, so he went right in.

Then he stopped.

Inside, there was partially dried blood spattered on the walls and floor. A figure, unrecognizable was crumpled against the far wall but the boy could tell an arm and a leg were missing from the body. Where the limbs should have been were streaks, leading away from the body and into the kitchen.

The boy backed up, exited the house, quickly slamming the door shut - and he dialed 9-1-1 on his cell phone.

When the police arrived, they found 3 corpses - and tracks leading away from the house by the back door. The forensics report stated the time of death of the classmate boy and both his parents was sometime during the previous night.

Every time you exhale, you breathe a little of your soul out and a minor bit of soul escapes. As luck would have it, you almost always inhale the soul back in before anyone else gets to it or before it escapes too far...

Ever fogged up a mirror with your breath...???

DON`T DO THAT!!

You awaken, breathing dry, tasteless air, thirsting something awful. It feels like a bucket of sand was poured down your throat overnight and - wait...you notice it's still dark where you're at.

You listen, counting your breaths. One, two, three, four, five, si....you wonder why you're having such trouble becoming fully alert.

You can't feel your hands or body well - sort of like the numb feeling of having slept on your arm wrong, losing the feeling in it - the point before the pins and needles feelings start as the blood begins to flow again. As you wonder about this, you try to stretch your legs and, in doing so, find that the sensations there in your legs are minimal, too.

You mustn't have had enough rest yet or something. It's still dark, so you wonder if you've awakened too soon and simply need to allow yourself to fall back asleep again. But no...you've got to get up. The dryness in your throat feels like it will soon make you cough or something. Your eyes start to adjust to the darkness, aided by just a hint of light coming through the window from the stars, the streetlights outside...

You know you're in your bed as you can now smell your favourite fabric softener from the pillowcases you just washed on...well, recently, you suppose - since you can smell the lavender, flowery scents of laundering around you. Your mouth tastes slightly metallic but it's hard to tell - your mouth is so dry. You figure you must be dehydrated or something and this thought solidifies your desire to get out of bed and go take care of your thirst...only you can't quite muster up the co-ordination just yet.

You try but cannot think back to yesterday or when you went to bed and recall with any clarity what day it was yesterday, what you were doing before you went to bed - what on earth you must have drank or ate too much of throughout the day or right before bedtime to make your throat so darned dry.

As you wonder about this, the feelings start coming back to your legs, your arms, too, and you can tell you're flat out on your back as you begin to feel your back, shoulders, buttocks pressed into the matress.

The thirsting is getting really bad now and you're finally able to ease up on half-numb elbows, squinting in the darkness, feeling with your hands to find out how far you are to the edge of the matress so you can swing your feet over and head to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

As your feet touch the floor and you rise, your tongue touches the roof of your mouth and almost sticks. You yawn and stretch and the yawning brings a scant bit of moisture - finally - to your nearly cracked tongue. As you pad forward, toward the doorway, the moisture allows you to wet your lips slightly and you find that these are, indeed, chapped. How did they get so chapped? What a very strange night...

Walking down the hallway, to the kitchen, you've already decided that no matter what the hour, you're in need of more sleep. It'll be a quick trip to the kitchen and you'll bring back a bottle of water from the fridge to keep by the bedside.

You grab the right-hand knob at the sink and twist, hearing the spray of water, letting it run cool as you get a glass out of the cupboard...you'll drink from a glass in the kitchen but still take some bottled water back to the bedroom, the plastic bottle being a safer choice to carry back in your still groggy state. As you hold the glass under the running water, you listen to the rising tone of the glass filling up, the shuuuurp-sound - and this makes your mouth manage to water right before you bring the glass to your lips and...

chink

the glass hard against your

tooth...

co-ordination must be off here, but you pay no mind, letting the cool fluid splash down your throat, finally easing the sand-mouthed dryness... You hold your breath, gulping from the large glass, gulping, and, once the glass is drained, you nearly choke on the last swallow, needing so much to suck in air - ahhhhhhhhhh!

You stand, hanging on to the edge of the sink for a moment, panting slightly...

"Hey"

From behind you...... what the!! Who's that?

Your head pounds in an instant fear-headache and you feel like someone kneed you in the gut while your toes curl hard on the cool floor...remember to breath, don't hold your breath again.

You turn around and see a figure - rather, a shadow outlined in the kitchen doorway...you think it's a female figure and wonder if you should reach for the knife drawer before...

(Whisper) "Ready for test two now?" (Yes it's a whispering woman)

Test two? What the hell is test two? Who is in my kitchen?? You side-step slowly toward the drawer but then you hear something shushing on the floor over closer to the figure by the doorway...the sound piques your interest and, with a sort of horror, you realize you can't stop your thoughts or movement even though you know you should stay by the sink and find a weapon to protect yourself with...you're drawn to that shuuushhhhing sound...it strikes you sublimely that this woman speaks so gently to you - almost lovingly...shushing sound what is that shushing?

You move very slowly, following the audio sound of the sh-shing...it sounds like - you can't quite understand...sounds like when you pour oatmeal from the bag into proper storage containers - something is being poured but not something liquid...you know you're supposed to protect yourself but there is sh-shing in your kitchen now...

You move very slowly, almost against your will - toward the woman near the doorway...

There's a slight bit of moonlight shining in from the window and as you slowly cross the floor, the woman backs up further into the doorway and you can see - yes - yes, she's pouring something from a tube - onto the floor...slowly, shhhhh-ushhhhing...

And as you finally see what's on the floor, the woman backs away...

You fall to your knees, counting...

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, counting... eleven, twelve...

"If you finish counting those seeds, we'll know for sure you've turned - and you won't need to take fresh blood again 'til the next moon cycle..."

...twenty four, twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven...

(whisper) "Good Luck, Love..."

Blood? Twenty nine, thirty, thirty one what blood? What is she talking about? Thirty six, thirty seven - oh, so many seeds, I've got to count them all! Forty two, forty three, turned? Who has turned?

Forty six - why would she do this? Forty eight, forty nine, fifty, pouring these seeds onto the floor? Fifty five, fifty six, more blood, who needs more blood, sixty one, sixty two, sixty three, why can't I get up? Oh, so many seeds aaaargh why would?

Sixty-seven, sixty eight there must be thousands of seeds here such a big pile seventy two, seventy three, seventy four, blood? Seventy six, seventy seven how long is a cycle? How long? Eighty-one, eighty two, eighty three omygod, blood, cycle, thirst ninety-three, ninety four, ninety five,

What has she done to me? Hundred and one, hundred and two, hundred and so damn many seeds, ohmygod...

...seven thousand and nine, seven thousand and ten, seven thousand and eleven...seeds, seeds, seeds...seven thousand and nineteen, oh so many more, seven thousand twenty two, seven thousand and twenty three, seven thousand and twenty four...no, seeds more seeds seven thousand thirty no, this can't be, seven thousand thirty two, seven thousand thirty three, seven thousand and no, how can this be seven thousand and thirty eight, seven thousand and can't stop counting, noooooo, seven thousand and forty three, noooooo, nooooo, noooo seven thousand and...

nine thou...

In southwestern Germany, at a certain pub, an odd occurrence happens. It you take the empty stool, farthest from the door - while the stool next to it is empty as well - then, when you order a drink, you should also order an extra, saying ``buy one for the Baron.``

Without question or hesitation, the bartender will pour two beer from the tap, set one directly in front of you and as the second mug sets to the table, the room will go dark and silent...

...save for the sound of footsteps as a man in uniform sits beside you.

It is believed that this man is Captain Manfred von Richthofen, although nobody can really be sure since when this all happens, it is always very dark in the pub and they can always just barely see their own glasses. No one who`s been in this situation or who`s told this story has ever had the nerve to touch the uniformed man, thus - risk insulting him by this, and the figure does not say a word.

Apparently, if you were to ask him, `So Sir, what`s the condition at the front`` he would offer you startling details of the region`s future and sometimes, how these details connect to the world as a whole.

Those who lived long enough after the fact claim these events took place approximately the same number of years from the date they asked as from the date the Baron von Richthofen died in battle.

-- Yet...this cannot be positively confirmed because

Each time the figure has been asked the question after the year 1964, he`s replied with a cold, deep laugh.

Manfred Von Richthofen is also called The Red Baron.

Once every three years, a secret society meets at a small diner in West Virginia. If you want to join, you have to come to the American Grill diner located in Cricket at 9:30pm on September the twenty-first. The only dress code requirement that the society insists on is a heavy overcoat and a green tie.

When you get there, order, ``Eggs and bacon platter with coffee.``

The waiter will tell you that the breakfast menu is not available, but don`t let this phase you or throw you off - just answer, ``Well, just the coffee then.`` You`ll be able to stay after closing time for the meeting.

The meeting, itself, is a sharing of ideas - meeting of minds and philosophy regarding immortality. The society is called `The Socratic Method.`  It`s members hoist their mugs at the beginning and the end of the meeting and say, `Death to Socrates.``

It`s rumoured that a little hemlock is added to the first cup and and antidote, to the last.

Try this little dare game if you're very brave and if you travel a lot...

In any country, in the city in which you find yourself, look up locations of mental institutions and halfway houses. Select one you can easily get to and off you go...

Go to the institution and walk inside. Tell the receptionist you wish to speak to "The Holder of The End." The receptionist will likely know exactly who/what you mean.

You'll know the receptionist knows what you're talking about if a child-like look of fear crosses the receptionists face...if this doesn't happen, you've come across just one receptionist who isn't sure what you mean. Don't worry, this'll only take three times to get it right...

Try again...

Go to another institution, walk inside and tell this new receptionist, "I wish to speak with the Holder of The End, please..."

If the receptionist gets a look of fear - like a child's look of fear in the face, then you're going to get what you asked for...

You should be led, at this point to a cell in the building, probably on one of the lower levels, away from most of the higher traffic areas of the building...

You will hear the sound of someone talking to him/herself and the speaking will echo around the empty hallways...at first, nothing will seem amiss. You won't be able to understand the words but you'll understand that they're well-phrased and have a definite pattern to them. Whoever is speaking is doing so, knowing perfectly well what they are saying - it won't be some sort of mental patient's incoherent rambling...the words will simply be in another language you don't recognize, that's all...

As you listen, you're going to realize that - without even understanding the language or the words, you DO recognize a reasonable phrasing and - worse - something within you understands whatever tone is being used...and this tone will create intense fear within you...

After a moment you'll feel an unspeakable fear but don't run - just wait

Just wait...

Don't run...

If the speaking suddenly stops - still - don't run...your life depends on this!!!

Say firmly (keep your voice from shaking): "I'm just passing through. I wish to talk." (Don't yell, don't let your voice crack even though you will be very, very afraid at this point).

Now (this is crucial here - pay attention) - count to 5...and if you hear nothing at all, and the speaking does not start up again........

FLEE!!!

RUN! Get out of there as fast as you can. Do not go to your hotel...do not attempt to in any way make a route back to your home...do not stop at any Inn, lodge, hostel or anything, JUST KEEP MOVING...start by running - away from the institution - and when you're away a far bit and the building is no longer in sight...KEEP WALKING...walk and walk and walk - do not attempt to seek shelter for sleeping - just keep walking 'til you drop...

You'll know in the morning if you've escaped or not.

Now, to backtrack...if you receive a response within 5 seconds after you've said "I'm just passing through. I wish to talk," then you have only 1 choice at this point. The speaking should start up again but you won't understand the language...follow the voice...go ahead and exit the cell you were brought to and slowly make your way out into the hallway. If the receptionist remained with you - ignore that person...if the receptionist was also accompanied by another attendant staff person, ignore them both and DO NOT LISTEN if they suggest that you leave or that you follow them back the way you just came...

You'll be drawn toward the speaking which will be quieter now and this should lead you to the farthest cell down the hallway...when you look into the cell, you'll see a windowless room with a person in the farthest corner of the cell. The person will continue to speak in the language you are unable to recognize and will be cradling something you can't quite see in clenched hands. There is only one question this person will respond to, so you must ask,

"What happens when they all come together?"

The person will stare into your eyes and explain what happens when they all come together and this will be in great, horrific detail...you must remain still and listen...but you MUST NOT do the thing you most want to do.

Many who do the thing they should not do have gone mad in this very hallway, looking into this very room with The Holder of The End looking into their eyes, telling them exactly what happens when they all come together...be very strong and brave and - again - do not do what you feel overwhelmingly compelled to do as The Holder of The End is speaking...

If you do the thing you should not do, you will most certainly die there where you stand and The Holder of The End will most certainly cause your death with The Holder's own hands...'

Resist what you feel you need to do - or else it will be your end.

What you will feel you have to do is look down at what is in the Holder of The End's hands.

The object there is 1 of 539.

They must never come together.

Ever.