1. Mommy’s home
I heard one, a father is laying in bed after just waking up, he grabs the baby monitor and walks to his desk in his office at home, he has his baby on the baby monitor and hears his wife singing to her, he cracks a smile as he hears his wife “Go to sleep… go to sleep…” When suddenly the front door opens up and his wife comes in with groceries.
Heres one that scared the living shit out of me when I was younger.
A young boy is sleeping in his bed on a usual night. He hears footsteps outside his door, and peeks out of his eyes to see what is happening. His door swings open quietly to reveal a murderer carrying the corpses of his parents. After silently propping them up on a chair, he writes something on the wall in the blood of the dead bodies. He then hides under the childs bed.
The child is scared beyond belief. He can’t read the writing on the wall and he knows the man is under his bed. Like any child, he pretends that he slept through the whole thing and hasn’t awoken yet. He lays still as the bodies, quietly hearing the breathes from under his bed.
An hour passes, and his eyes are adjusting more and more to the darkness. He tries to make out the words, but it’s a struggle. He gasps when he finally makes out the sentence.
“I know you’re awake”. He feels something shift underneath his bed.
Mommy told me never to go in the basement, but I wanted to see what was making that noise. It kind of sounded like a puppy, and I wanted to see the puppy, so I opened the basement door and tiptoed down a bit. I didn’t see a puppy, and then Mommy yanked me out of the basement and yelled at me. Mommy had never yelled at me before, and it made me sad and I cried. Then Mommy told me never to go into the basement again, and she gave me a cookie. That made me feel better, so I didn’t ask her why the boy in the basement was making noises like a puppy, or why he had no hands or feet.
4. Ted the Caver
A longer creepypasta published here, It’s worth the read.
A man leaves his house every morning to walk to work and passes a mental hospital surrounded by a wooden fence. Every morning the patients are out in the yard and he can hear them saying in unison,
“10, 10, 10, 10, 10”.
One day, he gets curious and looks through a hole in the fence.
Suddenly, a stick shoots out and pokes him in the eye.
“FUCK! He says to himself.”
While walking away pissed off he can hear the patients saying,
“11, 11, 11, 11, 11”
When I was a child my family moved to a big old two-floor house, with big empty rooms and creaking floorboards. Both my parents worked so I was often alone when I came home from school. One early evening when I came home the house was still dark.
I called out, “Mum?” and heard her sing song voice say “Yeeeeees?” from upstairs. I called her again as I climbed the stairs to see which room she was in, and again got the same “Yeeeeees?” reply. We were decorating at the time, and I didn’t know my way around the maze of rooms but she was in one of the far ones, right down the hall. I felt uneasy, but I figured that was only natural so I rushed forward to see my mum, knowing that her presence would calm my fears, as a mother’s presence always does.
Just as I reached for the handle of the door to let myself in to the room I heard the front door downstairs open and my mother call “Sweetie, are you home?” in a cheery voice. I jumped back, startled and ran down the stairs to her, but as I glanced back from the top of the stairs, the door to the room slowly opened a crack. For a brief moment, I saw something strange in there, and I don’t know what it was, but it was staring at me.
7. Shirley Jackson’s ‘The Lottery’
Read it here.
I check into small hotel a few kilometers from Kiev. It is late. I am tired. I tell woman at desk I want a room. She tells me room number and give key. “But one more thing comrade; there is one room without number and always lock. Don’t even peek in there.” I take key and go to room to sleep. Night comes and I hear trickling of water. It comes from the room across. I cannot sleep so I open door. It is coming from room with no number. I pound on door. No response. I look in keyhole. I see nothing except red. Water still trickling. I go down to front desk to complain. “By the way who is in that room?” She look at me and begin to tell story. There was woman in there. Murdered by her husband. Skin all white, except her eyes, which were red.
A woman survivalist and trained outdoors guide who loves to go solo camping. Returns home after 2 weeks of being in the bush and not seeing a single soul. Develops her disposable camera film to find a roll of film with numerous pictures of her sleeping at night, on different nights. She has never gone camping or hiking since.
11. A creepy classic from Roald Dahl
Yes, from the same guy who penned James and the Giant Peach. Read ‘The Landlady’ here.
there was a story about how a guy was driving through the mountains (ex army) and came across a crash. The car wasn’t damaged at all and almost deliberately placed in the middle of the road. He drove past and saw 2 people lying in the road. He pulls up in front of the “crash” and then looks back to see the people sat up and 20 or so eyes reflecting in his taillights from the surrounding bushes. He slams on the gas and goes. This story scares me because this kind of thing does happen with “mountain tribes” who are either cannibalistic or crazy.
This is me. I’m here. I’m shifting the words that you’re reading, altering them from whatever this person wrote.
I’ve been here for awhile. For as long as you can remember, anyway. Sometimes I say your name as you’re falling asleep, or whisper urgently in your ear. Do you remember the time that I screamed, throwing panic through you and setting your heart racing?
That was fun.
You’re wondering who I am. That’s only natural. Of course, you already know.
I’m you. I’m the real you. I’m the mind that existed here before you stole my body, before you forgot about being a parasite. I’m the child who looked the wrong way, asked the wrong question, saw the wrong thing… but I’m not so little any more.
You may have forgotten me, but I’m still here. I’ve always been here.
I’m going to get out.