Welcome to Crappypasta! This is the companion site to Creepypasta.com, and here is where you’ll find stories that we deemed not quite ready for the big leagues. If I believe that a story has potential but just isn’t quite there yet, I’ll post it here with some tags explaining my reasoning. The community at large can then offer their feedback and constructive criticism to aid the author in fully realizing their story’s potential.

However, if the community is in agreement that I made an error in judgement and the story should be accepted for the main site as-is, they may upvote the Crappypasta. If a story hits the (undisclosed for obvious reasons) correct ratio of positive to negative votes, I’ll move it to the primary Creepypasta archive, complete with a note of my taste fail!

You may read a more in-depth explanation of this process here.

I use the categories to give succinct feedback on each story posted. Rather than write out comments on every pasta, I make my feelings known via the categories that I assign to each specific post. This is done manually and on a per-pasta basis, so if you received a certain category on your story, that is my feedback to you.

You may read full descriptions of each category and how to interpret them as feedback/criticism here.

Note that due to how the sites have evolved, many categories are now outdated. In the dawn of this website, I didn’t get nearly as many submissions as I do now. As such, I was able to post and categorize every single eligible rejected story, even stories that I personally felt had a snowball’s chance in hell of being moved to the main site.

Nowadays, however, this would be an unrelenting sea of nonsense – most open-submission days garner well over a hundred submissions, and it’s statistically likely that only one or two of those will be more than a short, low-effort, all-lowercase paragraph. To prevent a flood of slush, I now only post stories that I believe have potential to be rewritten or upvoted to the main site.

All this is to say that some categories will almost certainly be archive-only from now on, simply because I can’t imagine a situation where I’d actually be posting a story that would deserve the “THIS IS STUPID” tag – it just doesn’t match up with how the site operates anymore.

The most frequent issues raised by new visitors are those of intended meanness and author permission. Please be reassured that if a story was posted here, it was submitted to me directly (I don’t go trawling the internet for stories to mock) with the author giving EXPLICIT permission for me to post their work here if it didn’t make the cut for the main creepypasta archive.

While we do allow comments that dabble in snarkiness as long as they are still entirely constructive criticism, the mod team will not approve comments that contribute nothing to the refinement of a pasta. Likewise, this means that comments left simply to be nasty or bully the author will be deleted. In cases where a commenter continually attempts to leave abusive comments towards authors, they will likely be banned entirely. This website is, first and foremost, about helping people succeed with their writing projects. Unnecessary nastiness does not help us accomplish this goal and, as such, has no place here.

That said, there will always be people who do not grasp the site’s function and leave comments accusing everyone leaving even benign, helpful feedback of bullying. Such comments are at each individual mod’s discretion on whether or not they will be approved, but if a comment section gets completely derailed due to misunderstanding-based white knighting, I will likely remove the comment chain in order to get the post back on track: we are here to give feedback, not argue with people who can’t be bothered to read this very blurb!

There are several ways for the community to contribute their constructive criticism to the works here:

  • Comments: If you want to leave an overall review of one of the pastas posted here, you may use the most traditional method – the comment form. We use DISQUS, so if you want to be an active and recognizable member of the Crappypasta community, I do recommend registering a free account, however commenting without an account is allowed. The comments are moderated, and all commenting guidelines from the main site are in effect here as well.
  • Sidenotes: If you want to leave your feedback in a more fine-tuned fashion, please use sidenotes. Sidenotes (also called annotations) should be familiar to anyone who has visited Rap Genius (now Genius) – you can highlight a portion of the story and leave specific feedback for the highlighted portion. You can also simply click the speech bubble after each paragraph to leave your feedback for that paragraph. Sidenotes are only shown and available on the pasta’s individual page, so you will need to click through a pasta’s title in order to access this function. If you wish to retain a consistent identity when leaving sidenotes, you can sign up for a Livefyre account within the sidenote UI.
  • Star Voting: This is pretty self-explanatory, I think. Just like on the main site, you can give a pasta a star rating from 1-10. 1 being the worst, 10 being the best.
  • Upvote/Downvote: Use the upvote (thumbs up) if you believe a pasta is good enough, in its current, as-is state, to be posted on the main site. Use the downvote (thumbs down) if you believe the story needs more work before it’s eligible for moving to the main site.
  • Emoji Response: If you’re on mobile or just don’t feel like typing but still want to give slightly more nuanced feedback than the stars and up/downvotes, you may also use the emoji feedback options. These, like the sidenotes, are present only on the pasta’s individual page, and can be found in between the pasta and the comments section. Eventually, we will be able to display content lists based on these reactions, much like do presently with the up/down and star ratings, so please use this function!

March 2016 – Crappypasta Overhaul

Well, I’m sure most of you noticed that Crappypasta went totally dark for a few months. Basically, I’ve been plotting to rebuild the site somewhat, add some new functions, but didn’t quite have the time and energy to see it through until now. I...
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Comments Undergoing Upgrade (99% Finished – Feel Free to Comment Again)

UPDATE 9/19: The automatic upgrade didn’t work, so I ended up having to export the comments in small batches. At the time of this update, the upgrade is 99% complete. Only a few comments should be missing, and hopefully they will show up soon enough. By and...
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Admin Post: Crappypasta Changes Announced

Okay, guys. After giving myself some time off from Crappypasta to clear my head (I can’t even express the level of burnout I’ve been experiencing), I’ve finally created and posted the new Crappypasta guidelines over on the main site. I’ve...
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Where Our Forgotten Dreams Go

Rebecca woke up. It was quite rare for her to randomly wake up in the night. It never happened unless she was sick and had to blow her nose. But she most definitely wasn’t sick. She had had a pretty good day before. Her boyfriend had proposed to her, and of course, she agreed. That night she thought she’d be able to sleep soundly knowing what her future holds.

She slowly opened her eyes to see the wall her bed was against. Confused about why she’s awake, she sits up, looking around her dark room which was slightly illuminated by a street light showing through her curtains. Nothing seemed to be wrong. It didn’t seem like any sound had woken her up.

Just as she was flipping her pillow to lie back down she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She pauses, glancing quickly around her room again, a strong feeling of uneasiness coursing through her. She knew she just saw something. Her eyes never usually play tricks on her, even in darkness.

“Are…. y-you awake?” She heard a soft voice speak out from the darkness.

She takes in a sharp quick breath, startled. Someone else was in the room with her…

“Wh-…..What?…” She nearly whispers, hearing her own heart beat rattle in her head.

“Oh…. you are awake…” It replies almost in a saddened tone.

Just then she sees another movement. It was in the darkest corner of her room. A figure, standing up from a sitting position.

Immediately her eyes widen and she reaches over to switch on her bedside lamp. As soon as it flashes on and exposes the dark crevices of her room she sees what was in the corner…

A humanoid figure, just standing in her room.

She studied it with still wide eyes. She quickly noticed, though… the creature… it had no eyes…. or ears. As if all the detailed facial features that were meant to be there were smoothed over with clay or were sanded down. No nostrils in the nose, no ears, no indentation of where the eyes should be, nothing. It just looked blank. The only prominent quality it seemed to have was…. it’s entire body. It had no clothes, it was like its skin was it clothes. It was gold and sparkling. Imagine dipping your hand into a bucket of bright golden glitter glue and looking at it as you pulled it out. That’s what this creature’s whole body was identical to. Like… a walking sparkling mannequin…. standing and moving right there… in Rebecca’s bedroom.

“Hello, Rebecca.” It said plainly in a timid voice. It had a mouth that opened when it spoke, like humans.

“What are you? How do you know my name?” Rebecca exclaimed. She was completely confused on what she should do next.

“I am… your Dream Collector. The one who comes and takes most of your dreams from you before you can remember them.” It begins walking towards the center of the room. “And I know quite a lot more about you than just your name, Rebecca…” It says like a shy child afraid it will say something wrong.

“Dreams? What dreams?” Rebecca replies, more curious than afraid now. The creature didn’t seem to show any threat.

“The good… and the bad ones. Ones I save for you.”

“Well…. What’s…. What’s your name? Do you have a name?” She said sitting up to a different position in her bed, while not taking her eyes off the creature. Her… Dream Collector.

It seems to hesitate before it spoke again. “There are many of us. Each one is assigned a human to watch over when the sun hides behind the hills. To collect the best dreams. I am Aidan.” It stops and looks down. Even without facial details, Rebecca could tell it was sorrowful. “We do not show ourselves to our humans unless we come to return their dreams…. I have come to return your dreams.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Returning dreams is something not many of us like doing. And it usually does not happen this early…” It says the last part even quieter.

“Why, what happens when you return them?” Rebecca asks with a strong sense of apprehension in her gut.

“The reason we return them?…” It stops it’s slow quiet speech, seeming to try to compose itself. “When we are told to return them… it usually means that our human….. is soon to perish.”

Credit: Kiley Walker

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Selfie

I first noticed him when I posted a selfie of me in my back yard onto my Facebook page. Jenna commented and asked me who the figure was that was standing by the tree in the background. He was far away so it was hard to make out any features. I told her I didn’t know. I said I hadn’t noticed him there when I took the pic.

The next time I saw the figure was when I uploaded a selfie of me at the beach to my Instagram. I’m sure he wasn’t there when I took it. Why would someone wearing all black be standing in the water staring at me? He was closer than the last time, but I still couldn’t make out his face.

He was there again when I posted a selfie of me at school in the hallway to Twitter. I know he couldn’t have been standing next to those lockers behind me when I took the photo. I’m sure I would have seen him. He was closer but his face was still hidden in shadow.

The last selfie I posted to Tumblr. I was in the bathroom alone and took a pic of me in my bikini. The figure wasn’t in the picture on my phone, but when I looked at it on my laptop, there he was, right behind me.

I threw out my phone and laptop and don’t use social media anymore. In that last photo, I saw his face.

Credit: The Voice
Credit Link: https://thewelloffiction.wordpress.com/

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The Clockmaker’s Labyrinth

I awoke to the sound of a mechanism, methodically ticking, the steady rhythm conjoining with the sound of my beating heart. I stared up at the ceiling of a dark room, my surroundings shrouded In a cloak of warm, ambiguous darkness. I attempted to navigate my way through the room, slamming my head on the ceiling as I rose. It was much lower than I thought. “A crawlspace?” I pondered through the throb of my head. I recovered myself and slipped through the darkness, my hands passing over many objects, “Was that a lever of some sort? A chain?” I put my hand down, hearing the crack of shattered porcelain. As I tried to pick the numerically marked pieces of an unknown object out of my hand, the crawlspace opened into a room. The ticking slowed to a stop.

This room was a bit brighter than the crawlspace, but the dim yellow light presented no aid in defining the contents of the room I was in. I could barely make out chiseled stone bricks in the walls with a doorway leading into another abyss of darkness. I stood up warily and shambled across the cracked stone floor. I peered into the doorway, and could hear a faint noise. A hiss, almost reminiscent of a snake, but not quite. Assuming that this way would lead to another room, I stepped forward. My footstep resounded off of the floor, echoing across the seemingly endless hallway. A single sound responded. The chime of a bell. Thinking nothing of it, I continued on, eventually entering a well lit room.

The room accommodated a rickety wooden bench and barred windows leading to nothingness; However, this room held two doors leading to separate paths. I sat on the wooden bench, wondering where I was. It surprised me that I was only now thinking of it. My eyes wandered as I thought, my pensive mind not failing to perceive the glimpse of a tattered book. A children’s book, with bright colorful pictures and simple words, faded with age. I felt a strange warmth holding it, but seeing it had no other use I set it down. I finally decided to pick a door and continue on. “Surely there must be a way out” I hoped. I chose the left door, walking through it as the sound of dripping water started suddenly in the previous room. “Strange” I thought. The sudden chime of a second bell interrupted my thoughts, as I appeared in another room.

This one was a lot brighter, with vivid apparitions dancing from wall to wall. The sound of conversations and stories in a incomprehensible language ejected from unknown tongues. I felt a sense of merriment, walking around these spirits, a deep sense of safety and happiness. A clang of metal, close behind me, startled me into a sprint towards the exit. Out of the room, out of the warmth, out of the inexplicable sanctuary of those spirits. As I ran yet another bell chimed, and I emerged in another room.

This one was drearier, with dark blue walls, accentuated with a single, faded, orange apparition. I failed to notice however, to the left of me was a humanoid figure. It twitched, showing an appendage only described as non-human, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. The figure transmogrified into that of many beasts of fiction and reality, transforming with dizzying speed. Screeching pierced my ears as the figure froze and grinned at me. The floor gave way, and he plummeted into the darkness.

The screeching crescendoed into a cry never uttered by human or beast, a chorus of pained, saddened, pitiful cries. I bolted through another corridor seeing the orange ghost fade as I ran. A bell rang through the din, and another, and still yet another. The noises grew louder and louder, my feet pounded against the ground desperately trying to get away from this entity, hellbent of driving me to the brink of insanity. I choked on my own fear, crying, pleading with whatever God exists for this pain to end. A tenth chime, and eleventh… And it stopped… save for the ticking of some unknown mechanism.

“Thus is the fate of all humanity” an unknown voice chided.

“Excuse me?” I responded. “Who are you?”

“A better question” the voice said in an almost omniscient tone, “Is who will you be?”

“What was chasing me? What were those rooms? Tell me!” I pleaded frantically.
“Your very essence, the foundation of your mind. Your memory. At least,” he added “the memories you will eventually have.”

“Eventually?…”

“Yes” the voice said sadly. “I feel this remorse, this pity, for all of those who suffer the way you will. Your parents, their deaths, your lone living relative, and the murderer who killed your parents, ending himself to avoid his own capture. All collected here… Life isn’t fair, and you will come to realize this very shortly.”

“What do you mean?” I whimpered, on the verge of tears.

“It hasn’t happened yet, your fate was sealed before you were born.” The voice responded solemnly. “You will come into this world knowing nothing of our meeting, nothing of the misfortune that awaits you, and you will unknowingly suffer through it in a painful new perspective… Your own perspective…”

“This is the curse…” He continued slowly. “The curse of the clockmaker’s labyrinth.”

The twelfth bell chimes. And you open your eyes to see your mother for the first, and final time…

Credit: Nicholas Shea

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Faceless

Hello there,
My name is Diogo, and i’m from a small village, somewhere in Portugal. A have a simple life : I go to school, have a lot of friends, a nice girlfriend. Everything is okay, despite my disability.
Because yes, for me, this is a disability. In fact, you know, i can know if a person is about to die. I just need to look at their faces. Whether on television, a photo or face-to-face.
How to tell ? Well, people who are about to die appear to me with no face at all. I see their head, their hears, their hair… but no mouth, eyes, eyebrows or nose…
All started when i was a child. There was a family photo, on the fireplace of my house. We could see My mother, father, sister, grandpa, grandma and me on it.
Once , I noticed that the face of my grandmother had disappeared from the picture. Of course, my family couldnt see that, and asked me to stop lying. But several days laters, my grandmother died of a heart attack. I did not immediately made ​​the connection. And my parents either , I must say she was no longer young.
Then, it was my grandfather turn. Like grandma, his face was not on the picture. I warned my parents about this, which earned me a new argument with them.
But the facts were there, a few days later , my grandfather died, having a stroke . This time, my parents could not not believe me . they asked me to never tell anyone . They saw this as a curse and it could have attracted me problems ; predict someone’s death necessarily attracts suspicion if this prediction become true.
And so, my life gone as normal as i could wish. This disability does not necessarily touched me and I thank God for that. Sometimes, i met people with no face on the street, sometimes i found some on TV. I could tell my relatives that mickael jackson were about to die, days before his death, and with that, they were able to make a lot of money : They just bought many of his albums before everyone wanted one, then they sold them on ebay. I know, this is a terrible thing to do with the death of people, but this is my disability, this is my curse, i have to live with that so, as well enjoy.
But you all have that question : why do i need to talk about it now ? Why do i reveal my ability to the world now ? What changed ? I want to know if someone have the same curse ? No, i don’t care. I want to become famouse ? Not at all. The truth is, my friends, that since this morning, i haven’t seen any face yet.
People on TV have no faces.
No one on Facebook have faces
On the local and international news on the internet, no faces either.
On the street, people have no faces.
On my mirror, i got no face.

I do not know what will happen but I advise you to live your last days as you have never lived. Have fun, dance, Drink, eat, make love, do whatever you want.
Cause in a few days, we’ll all meet again in the afterworld.

Credit: Kamus

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Lost in the Halls

Recently, I have been having a series of nightmares and hallucinations. I can’t explain why I am having such vivid dreams because I do not know why. This was the first of my nightmares, the start of it all. These dreams do not feel like dreams. The only reason I know they’re dreams is because at some point, I wake up in bed covered in sweat, sometimes crying.
I can only hope you do not experience what I have experienced.
I have not exaggerated this dream in anyway, I am simply retelling it the way I remember it.
Some backstory:
My old high school was in a town called Cheltenham, the suburbs of Philly. It was a big school, very ghetto. I’ve recently moved to a small town in New Jersey and have yet dreamt about my current high school. Let’s hope I never do. Keep in mind, I moved a year ago, before these dreams even started. This is the only dream (so far) that has taken place in a school.

It was around 5:30 p.m., not quite near sunset yet, but easy to tell it was getting near that time. My mom was out at work with my step dad, I didn’t expect them to be back anytime soon, being as though they work late and then go out on a date. I was still working on homework up in my room, talking to my old best friend on Facetime. She had already finished homework and was reading what I can only assume were fan fictions online.
I looked at my homework book to see what I had to do next. My last period was math so the last thing written in my book was my math homework. I shuffled through my bag to look for my textbook, but I couldn’t find it. It was the only textbook I ever read because it was the only textbook I needed. It was the book my math problems were in.
“Shit,” I cursed out loud. My friend Malaysia looked at me. “What?” She asked.
“I think I left my textbook at school,” I answered. My mind flashed back to me putting my book under my desk in my math class, leaving it there after class. It was the end of the day, so of course I was anticipating getting home. Especially that time of year. Springtime was always pretty in Cheltenham.
“Can’t you use the textbook online?” Malaysia asked.
“No, I don’t remember my password for it,” I sighed. “Can you text me the problems?”
“I’m not in your math class.”
I sighed to myself and looked at my homework book. I was already failing math and in order to avoid summer school, I had to do a lot of homework to make up for it. “You think the school is still open?” I asked.
“Maybe,” She said. “If you run.”
I nodded, accepting the fact that I had to go back to school to get my book. I couldn’t afford summer school. “I’ll call you later,” I said, hanging up the phone. I texted my mom and told her I was walking to the school to get my textbook. She didn’t text back, not that I expected her too. She was most likely on a conference call.
My brother’s door was closed as I walked through the halls of my house, so I didn’t tell him where I was going. If he was worried or curious, he would text me. When I left my house, right away I could feel the heat of the world against my cooled, air-conditioned house. I was okay with walking outside; the heat never bothered me anyway.

~What was weird about this was I could actually feel the warmth. Not just hot, but summer heat; the humidity~

As I walked through the town, I almost stopped at the Walgreens near my house to get some soda, but I was in a hurry to get to school before the janitors locked up. I saw some kids from school that I knew standing outside of the Walgreens eating Skittles and drinking soda. One of the kids was smoking, holding his skateboard. The other, a kid named Ash who I could qualify as a friend, noticed as I walked by him. He barely waved at me and I barely waved back.
About a block away from school, I checked my phone to see if I got any texts. Nothing but the music playing through my headphones. I was listening to a band that, at the time, I didn’t even know about. The music was loud so I couldn’t hear any cars passing by the street. I didn’t need to really look, though. No cars would be driving on the street to school.
The school building was large and the bricks that formed it were a light beige. An old, but quite beautiful building. I walked across the green field to the front doors of the school and peered inside the windows. I couldn’t see any janitors walking by or any staff, for that matter. I jiggled the handle of the door and it opened with a breeze. It was about 6:00 p.m. The sun was setting by then as I walked into the school. It felt empty not having hundreds of kids walking around the building. I didn’t like empty, but at the same time, I did.
My locker was on the second floor at the time so I took a walk up the stairs in the English wing, which was the shortest way to my locker. I looked around for any janitors, but found no one. I thought nothing of it; I just needed to get to my locker. It was silent, I could tell, even with my headphones in. When I finally reached the second floor and turned the hall, I could see my locker was cracked open. It was the only locker that stood out.
I took larger steps down the hall to get to my locker faster. Sure my school was messed up and full of young criminals, but no one knew the lock on my locker. And I always had it locked. When I got there, nothing was out of place. My books were still there. A drawing I had made of a dog was still there. The picture of my dad and my cousin was still there. I grabbed my math textbook and put it under my arm, but as soon as I pulled it out, a piece of paper was dragged out with it.
Your lock is in room 226
That was my math room.
I closed my locker door, inspecting the front of it. In the real world, locks were attached to the lockers. But there, you put them on. I glared at the piece of paper, wondering who would’ve put it there. Who would’ve taken the lock in the first place?
I decided to walk into the math room just to see if it was there anyway. I looked down at my phone and texted Malaysia.
Someone took my lock off my locker and put it in the math room.
I knew the text most likely wouldn’t go through until I left the school, the service did suck in there. Halfway down the staircase, the lights began to dim. It was halfway between on and off, which was weird because it was usually one way or another.
I didn’t like the feeling the lighting was giving me, I decided to leave. But as I turned the hall to the English wing, the hall seemed endless. There was no end to it. The doors to the classrooms were open, they weren’t before. I wasn’t sure if the air conditioning was cut off, but I started to sweat either way. The lights shut off, and without any windows, the halls were dark. The only light visible was the light coming through the windows in the classes.
“Hello?” I called out, holding my textbook closer to me. I dropped the note on the floor. The music in my headphones stopped on its own. Without inspecting it, I ran down the hallway that seemed endless. My phone fell out of my pocket, but I wasn’t going to go back to pick it up. I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk it.
There were no hallways connecting to the English wing and the front door seemed to of vanished. When I glanced over my shoulder, I was back where I started. The lights behind me were on but when I looked in front of me, it was still dark.
I ran into a classroom, thinking it was the only way to leave. It wasn’t even an English classroom, it was a biology classroom. There was a pig head on the teacher’s table, but I didn’t care about that. The blood didn’t faze me. I shuffled through the desks and over the lab tables to attempt to open one of the windows. It was locked, and the lock at the top of the window was broken. They were all broken.
The door to the classroom slammed shut behind me. I didn’t want to turn around. I knew that if there was anything behind me, it was bound to be terrible. I just stared out the window, looking around for people to help me.
Music begins to play through the hallway. Music from my phone. It’s loud, but I don’t remember taking my headphones out. Even if the headphones came out, the music wouldn’t blast like that. I slowly moved my head a little over 90 degrees, and then turned my body completely. There is no one behind me. There is nothing behind me. The glass window in the door is covered by black paper, which was always there so people passing by in the hall wouldn’t see the dissection.
I climbed off the lab table and walked across the classroom. The music got louder as I stood in front of the door. I slowly opened the door, but it opened easier than usual. The door was usually heavy, but it was like it was opening itself. It wanted me to see the horrors in the hall.
Blood was painted everywhere. On the lockers, on the floors, on the paintings on the wall, even on the ceiling. The lockers were opened and in every locker was either a body or a head of what seemed like every student. Even teachers. There were dismembered bodies and limbs spread throughout the floor. I was stepping in blood. I was covered in it somehow. My hands, my clothes. Everything. The music was blasting through the halls. When I looked down at my feet, 226 was written in the blood.
The bodies that surrounded me were torn apart. It was like their eyes were open on purpose as to taunt me. The music got louder. I felt like I was screaming but my mouth was shut. My tears felt thick and when I wiped my eyes, my fingers turned red.
I remember lying on the floor in a fetal position, but I don’t remember getting in the position.
Then I woke up.

I’m still unsure what would’ve happened if I had gone to 226. But I wasn’t in control of my dream. The dream was in control of me.

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Red Sky Dawn

The flock, a term alien to those who do not weekly go to the Barker King Mountain Trails and hike, is a common word used against these hikers among their “kind”, a special kind of people who were-no, ARE, true mountain men and women. It’s a group mentality against their kind where every hiker in the group must contribute to the group, and in return, the rest of the flock will keep you safe and secure. As a group, they established rules that everybody must and WILL follow. One of them is to “never stray too far from the flock”. This was taught upon the younger ones of the group, and if they did not obey the all important rule, the Barker Beast would get them.

The Barker Beast is described as a large winged creature with a beak as vicious as saw-blades, claws as sharp as a sword, and a body as hard as a giant redwood. It had two beautifully murderous eyes colored black as sackcloth, with irises as red as blood. The story circulated in the early 1920’s, when Randall and Helen Clive took their 6 year old son, Peter, out for a little walk through the trails. Helen told the boy “I’d suggest you stay close to us, ‘less the Beast gets ya.” Peter asked his mother, “What’s the Beast?” and his mother responded with a short, sweet, and simple response: “Your doom.” Peter didn’t stray even a centimeter from his two loving and caring parents, who they were going to protect from the Beast.

No such Beast was ever reported from any of the local Rangers, but rumor has it that there are indeed reports of the Beast being sighted in the Trails, but the Rangers are too afraid to send out a notice of it. No murders have been reported in the Trails, yet people end up going missing at least so much as three, maybe four times in two weeks. The story has been passed down from generation to generation, and each time, it keeps the little ones in line, single file lines. Even most young and old adults fear the Barker Beast, having terrified them while they were still young. However, in one camping trip reported in the 90’s, one teenager didn’t believe so.

The young adult was named Dawn Binder, a 17 year old girl belonging to the middle class Binder family, consisting of her, her mother Virginia, her father Simon, and her younger brother Joey. When she was a little one in the single file lines of her family’s flock, she believed deeply in the story of the Barker Beast. So much so, it traumatized her, to the point where she became the youngest child to be institutionalized at their local mental facility. She’d been recently released, and she had indeed changed. Gone was Virginia and Simon Binder’s beautiful young daughter who asked them to protect her from the big bad Beast. In her place, a punk type and rebellious little bitch of a daughter whom they somewhat loathed.

What happened in the facility to her has not been revealed to the public at this moment in time, though it’s suspected that her brain had been “fast-forwarded”, a term used rarely by those who help speed up a young child’s personality to that of a 15 year old. This has been denied on numerous occasions in interviews and responses to statements from the Binder family and more. Dawn hesitantly went along with her parents on this trip, attempting to try and get along with them after eight years in the loony bin. As they arrived, only Dawn noticed the sky began to slowly turn to a light red salmon color.

“Why’s the sky a bit fishy?” she asked. “Sky? Fishy? Dawn, you must be seeing things that aren’t there, darling,” her mother responded in that usual sensual voice she always had on, no matter who it was. “I think she means the sky is a different color, dear. Everyone sees the sky differently.” Simon responded to the air-headed Virginia. “I think she’s crazy!” Joey exclaimed, wanting to put his less than 2 cents in. “I’ll knock you crazy.” Dawn responded, with a hint of seriousness. “That’s enough, you two. Now, let’s get moving. We’re paying good money for this.” Virginia broke the two up with her attracting voice, and they walked, single file line as usual per flock rules. All except for Dawn.

About two hours into the trip, Joey strayed from the flock. Simon gathered him back and Virginia told him the tale of the Barker Beast. “It’s complete bullshit, Joe. The old man and woman are just telling you that to scare you so you won’t get kidnapped.” The eldest sibling told the immature youngest out of earshot to the “old man and woman”. Joey, being the immature youngest child, tattled on her to the parents.

This is where an all too familiar scenario broke out among the parents and Dawn: girl does something to get angry and does something to worry them, parents start criticizing her, girl argues with them, parents argue with her, and they all calm down. The end, right? Not this time, the end was only a beginning.

Instead of them all calming down, Virginia, she’d had enough with her daughter’s(no she didn’t deserve that word that filthy little girl) behavior, so she pulled her wrist back, and gave her a backhand across the face. Simon sided with his daughter on this, Virginia having gone a bit too far. Dawn instead ran off, deep and deeper into the woods with each adrenaline-fueled heartbeat. The darkness seemed to come quicker, and Dawn sought refuge in a cave near the cliffs, where the beautiful ocean was illuminated by the dark silver moon. Sleep also came faster than expected, and she fell asleep in the cave near the cliffs.

When Dawn came to, she noticed it was quite dark inside the cave, it being day. She noticed an eerie color near the opening: sackcloth. She was not a religious person per-say, but sackcloth color was a preferred color of her choice. She slowly moved towards it, and it started glowing a new shade, no, a new color entirely: blood red. She shivered, and walked outside. The first thing she noticed was the sky.

The sky had turned from the once beautiful and bright blue sky had instead been replaced with a dark and macabre blood red. It was as if the sky had been stabbed(by the hand of God) and the blood had stained and spread, tainting the brilliant colors of the sky with its liquid red color. There wasn’t a sun in the sky, and this struck Dawn as odd, since the sun was always bright enough to see in the blue sky, except this was not her sky. This was something else entirely, she thought. She left the cave, and looked over the cliffs. What really scared her was none of these, except what she saw over the cliffs. Down on the ocean blue ground, there was nothing. Nothing but an empty void of blackness. Once, there was many a sight to see from the cliffs: birds flying overhead, the occasional ship passing by, and the beautiful ocean. Gone, all gone. Swallowed up by this void.

Her instinct kicked in quickly, and she thought she had gone a bit cuckoo. She quickly raced back to where her flock’s car was parked, and yet…there was nothing. There was no parking lot, just the woods. There was not a single living being she could find or see. There weren’t any birds chirping, no sound at all. Not even wind blowing. The void had cut her off from the rest of the world, if this even was still her world at all. Wherever Dawn was, she was definitely not back on Earth. And yet despite this feeling of the ultimate isolation, she felt that she was being watched. She stared into the void for the longest time, thinking about going through it to look for her flock, yet she thinks there’s something in it, watching her. This thought was quickly dismissed as fear, and then considers being swallowed by the void. With nothing else to do, she headed back for the cliffs, and arrived quickly, staring at the ocean void.

There then came a loud and haunting screech from the void, and one thing came to Dawn’s mind: the Barker Beast. There was a sudden burst of wind from the void, as something rose up. A giant nearly 10 story beast rose from the void, and stared at Dawn with its(bleeding oh lord its bleeding) eyes. She let out a whimper, trying to remain still as was the course for a bear attack. But this was no bear, this was the Beast. The Barker Beast had just risen from beyond the infinite void. And it had risen for her.

It let out that screech, and flew towards her. She finally screamed, and dashed into the caves, the entrance way being too small for the Beast to enter. It had gotten a deep wound on her back, and she laid in the cave on her stomach, crying and realizing her childhood trauma was all but too real. Hours, maybe even a day or two passed, and she had become woozy and tired from the wound. Her condition worsened quickly, due to the lack of sleep because of her adrenaline, and her wandering mind not focusing, going places it hadn’t gone since her eight years away. Occasionally, the Beast would let out the screech again, and only then wind would appear. This continued for the longest time, Dawn didn’t know how much, but she wanted it to just end.

Despite all of this, she couldn’t and didn’t care. She was tired, injured, going a bit delirious, and near death. She wanted it to all stop, and the only way that could happen was with the Beast. During her time in the cave, a thought reappeared constantly. She had thought about it long and hard, and she came to a conclusion fueled by her damaged mental state: there was no escape, simple as that. She lay there almost endlessly, and she was no further than going back to her world than she was at the beginning. She had given up and quit, there was no escaping this hell, and she could always continue to lay there, had it not been for her life-threatening injuries, but for how long would she have lasted without them? Three weeks without food, a whole week without water or hydration. All she’d be doing is torturing herself with her pointless attempt to stay in the cave and sit it out.

She should’ve let the Beast kill her, and death was her only escape now. With that solved, Dawn limped out of the cave, and stood over the cliffs, looking down. She closed her eyes, and heard the beast, felt the wind brushing against her face and clothed body. She thought her childhood happy thoughts. Playing with her parents, having fun, spending time with the ones she loved. A small smile appeared on her face, and she cried. The Barker Beast then flew towards her, and she leaned, falling towards the void. The beast then pierced her small body with its claws, and the impact was sudden and quick, she had died instantly. With the prey it so desperately required caught, it returned to its place inside the infinite void to enjoy feeding off of Dawn’s emotions and feelings. Awaiting its next prey. The flocks that come through always have a size-able meal to enjoy, and who knows, it could be you next. Remember this rule: Stay with the flock(‘less the Beast gets ya).

Credit: Synthpon80s
Credit Link: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCVUwskiphJKOVtrhL9_NmUg

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Mousetrap

I always loved the evenings of late spring. The time of the day between five thirty and eight o’clock were always the most magical. Everything about that time giggled with magic, the cool breeze that whistled across the suburbs, the promise of descending darkness. I would often find myself—even as a child—watching on my back porch as the sun dipped beneath the sea of rooftops and the sky turned a brilliant shade of orange and red.

And that was directly where I found myself one elegant evening in june. Perched comfortably on the back porch overlooking the ever darkening garden and admiring the golden sun as it slowly began to descend upon the earth. On my lap was Lawrence, the fat, russian blue. Happily purring as my fingers stroked the grey fur along its back.

As I watched the sun sink into little more than a semicircle. I noticed a small separation in the grass, as if a tiny creature was charging through my backyard. I eyed it for a while, and was completely taken surprise when a small field mouse appeared from between the blades of grass. It had brown coloured fur with a patch of black fur over its left eye; almost like an eyepatch. I watched as it sniffed the air for a few seconds, then went charging into the flower bed lining the house. I chuckled at seeing the mouse, and went back to stroking Lawrence.

A few moments later as I pondered the idea of going back inside I heard loud screaming come from inside the house. Immediately I was on my feet and I charged into our small house. When I reached the source of the screaming I saw Val standing on one of the dining room chairs with her eyes frantically scanning the floor tiles, her skin was pale; as if a dead man had just begun walking through our house.

“What on earth is going on in here?” I asked.

“There’s a rat, Jack. A disease-ridden rat!” She jabbed one of her slender fingers at a small shape barrelling itself across the kitchen tile.

I eyed the shape more closely, and noticed it was the same mouse as before. With the black fur over its left eye. “How had it gotten into the house?” I thought to myself.

“Honey, calm down. That’s not a rat, it’s just a little mouse.” The tone of my voice seemed to soothe her slightly, and her face went back to its normal color.

“I don’t care, Jack. Get rid of it!” The mouse sprinted full speed towards the open door of the basement.

“There’s not much I can do right now, Honey. I’ll set up some traps and we’ll see if that doesn’t get him.”
She slowed her breathing to a more normal pace, she sighed; “Yeah you’re right.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I know how much you dislike rodents.”

“I goddamn hate rodents.”

Later that night, when both of us had gone to bed and I had placed seven mouse traps across the house. I lay listening, waiting to hear the satisfying snap of the mechanism crushing the mouse’s neck.
I did not wait long.

It was a quarter past eleven when I heard a low snap resonate from the basement. I sighed and shut my eyes.

“Was that what I thought it was?” Val asked softly, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Yes, honey. Your brave knight hath slain thine perilous demon mouse.”

“Thank you,” she whispered softly and fell back asleep, and as I gradually slipped into unconsciousness I thought I heard the soft patter of tiny feet along the carpet.

When I checked the mousetrap the next day before I drove to work, I found that the mechanism had shut. But there was no dead mouse inside it. I disregarded it as maybe he had somehow managed to outsmart the trap, so I reset it and decided to set more later. After returning home and smearing more traps in peanut butter, I sat waiting for the mouse to stumble into one of them.

Snap!

I barreled down the stairs and into the basement, my heart beating in my chest. Then I ran through the laundry room and rounded a corner. Then I was in the boiler room, and that’s where I found him. I scanned his body to make sure he was dead. His neck had been crushed under the weight of the locking mechanism; and both of his eyes were closed. In a way I almost felt bad for the thing, but it was a mouse and it had to go. As I took a plastic bag out of the closet nearby I heard the front door open and Val stroll into the house.

“Jack?” she shouted across the house, “Jack, I’m home.”

I abandoned the mouse and moved back up the stairs to the front door. “Hi, honey. I caught the mouse.” I took one of the grocery bags out of her arms and placed it on the counter.

“You finally caught it?” she asked, and I saw her eyes light up with excitement. “I wanna see it.”

“It’s next to the boiler, in the basement. You can go look at it, I’m gonna put away the rest of the groceries.”

She nodded and half-skipped down the stairs. A few minutes later as I emptied the last of the grocery bags into the cupboard, Val came up the stairs pale and blank faced.

“Val, What’s wrong?” I moved to embrace her and she immediately burrowed her face in my chest.

“That wasn’t a mouse, Jack,” she whispered and began softly crying.

“What do you mean? What was it?” She said nothing, only continuing to cry.

Later when Val had settled down enough for me I finally went to check the mousetrap, I found much to my surprise that the corpse of the mouse was gone. As I looked over the mousetrap I felt what appeared to be a human’s touch; but when I turned around, there was only a still silence.

“Odd,” I said, before walking back up the stairs

Four days passed.

Val spent the next four days in our bedroom, crying. I don’t know what she saw, or what she thought she saw in the basement, but whatever it was, it scared the hell out of her. She begged me to hire an exterminator and not try to catch it myself, she says it’s beyond words what she saw. But whenever I try to ask what it was she refuses to go into detail.

A week passed since the incident.

I believe this mouse is not a normal mouse. I must’ve caught him dozens of times in the past several days, I have seen his corpse caught in the traps each time, his eyes close and his body gnarled. And don’t think for a second I’m not doing it right, I grew up dockside on Draycott, you could literally be paid for getting rid of rodents. By the time I left dockside I had become a local expert in mouse catching. Yet this mouse had made a mockery of that. And I think it knows it.

Val still hadn’t got over what she saw in the basement. Usually, she stays hidden in our bedroom all day, crying softly to herself. When she does leave she simply wanders the ground floor of the house aimlessly. I don’t know how to help her, I bring her meals to her and I’ve taken off enough days of work to look after her. When she did speak she begs me to call an exterminator, I always refuse and say I would catch it myself.

A few days later, I realized I had to go to work or risk losing my job entirely. Val begged me not to go, she told me she didn’t want to be alone, she was horrified of being alone with whatever it was she saw in the basement. I told her I had too, and she wouldn’t be entirely alone either, Lawrence would be with her. I told her if that wasn’t enough she could always go visit one of the neighbors (most of them are retired, and would gladly enjoy the company of someone to talk to). But she said she wouldn’t feel safe without me, that I was the only thing that could keep her safe.

Regardless, I regrettably left the house for work and left her crying in our bedroom.

I spent the next six hours trying to cut down the massive stack of paperwork on my desk. After that, barely getting half of it done. I drove home and when I parked the car in the driveway, I found Val sitting on the steps leading up to the front door, cradling Lawrence in her arms as if he was a baby. When I approached her I noticed her eyes were red from crying and she was shaking.

“Val? Honey, are you okay?” I said slowly, trying not to startle her.

“Jack, I saw him. Or It, I don’t know.” She began weeping again.

“Who? What did he look like?” I was horrified that someone may have broken in, and she mistook them for whatever it was she saw in the basement. I went up to her and lifted her to her feet, “What. Did. He. Look. Like.?”

“I can’t even describe it, Jack. It was so horrible.” She broke out into tears again and buried her face into my chest.

“Isn’t that your laptop?’ I noticed the smashed remains of her computer in a pile on the front lawn.

Her voice was thick with crying and fear “Yes, I…I was playing solitaire and I got this pop up ad… so when I went to go delete it I accidentally clicked on it. And this face showed up, it was awful. It was bleeding as if its face was ripped off. And it was laughing, horrific, cackling laughter. It only stopped when I threw it out the window.” She buried her face again.

“And that’s why you’re on the front lawn?”

“No, I heard Lawrence meowing on the stairs so I went to go see what it was. And a horde of rats stormed up the stairs, hundreds of them. I couldn’t stay in that house any longer after that.” She burst out crying again.

I was in utter disbelief, how could there be so many rats in the house? I decided I’d call an exterminator later.

A few hours later when I managed to calm her down I called her mother and told her what happened. I then told Val that she would be coming over later to take her back to her house with her sisters. Val protested at first, saying how she couldn’t feel safe without me. Eventually she caved and agreed.
When Val’s mother and sisters had taken her back to their house I called my stepbrother, who was luckily an exterminator by trade. So I told him about the mouse and possible rat infestation. I made sure I didn’t mention what happened to Val. Instead, I told him that I kept leaving traps but the mouse kept outsmarting them. He believed me and got to work immediately.

He managed to catch the mouse quickly. However when he went to collect the corpse he returned with the same face of shock Val had. “That ain’t no mouse or no rat infestation either.” He refused to be paid and left soon after.

So I would have to battle this mouse myself.

The mouse is winning.

Several days passed and I have come to the conclusion; Now this may sound crazy, but I believe it is a ghost. Or something along the lines of a ghost; a phantom, a zombie, a spirit. What else could could have its neck snapped only to immediately spring back to life and hide in some darkened area of the house. I saw its neck crushed, it must somehow be able to escape the trap after it’s dead. To make this sound even more crazy, I had a bag blessed so that I could hold the mouse in it after I caught it.

This idea has driven me near crazy, I haven’t been able to sleep nor have I wanted to. I must stay awake, I must catch it the moment it falls into the trap, or else it will simply vanish again. I keep wanting to call Val but I hear the snap right as I am about to pick up the phone. I found the phone destroyed one morning, I do not know how. I have taken to drinking as of late so it might have been in a drunken rage. I should shave. But then I might miss the snap and the mouse would get away.

Here I sit, awaiting the snap of the mousetrap. Today will be the day, today will be the…

Snap!

I’m on my feet in a half second and charging towards the source of the sound in the other half. “I‘ve got you now, you bastard!” I shout across the house, I am alive with ecstasy, the mouse that has prevented me from sleep and driven me to near insanity will die today. In under ten seconds I reach the source of the sound— the linen closet. There is a soft squeaking on the other end. I focus my eyes on the floor and throw open the door.

I see the neck of the mouse’s corpse jammed between the locking mechanism. Then I see a ray of yellow light envelope the body and the mouse charge through the open doorway. I spun around to watch it disappear behind a corner before I felt something cast a shadow over me.

I turned slowly, and was filled with horror with what I saw. Standing before me, over eight feet tall, was the rotting form of a human. The skin across its face had largely fallen away, leaving most of the skull visible underneath decomposing red flesh. Mice scurried in and out of the rotting holes peppering its body, all having the same black fur over their left eyes. The creature was silent, and horrifying in its stillness.

“Oh my God.” I barely managed to whisper as the creature reaches out one of its long, decaying arm and enveloped my face with its hand.

“No,” was all it said.

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