Rene is the next to leave. Jon walks him to the door and for a moment Holly is left all alone in the living room. She looks around, suddenly aware of how startlingly quiet it is, movie paused, Jon’s parents away for the weekend. There’s no traffic on the street and, save Rene and Jon’s muted voices filtering through from the foyer, it’s dead quiet. She becomes uncomfortably aware of her own heartbeat, but that may just be the fading effects of the pot they all smoked.

Blackjack—

—The name tears through her like a bullet. She sits up suddenly and puts her hand to her chest, trying her damndest to fight back the abrupt oncoming a panic attack. Her heart is beating so fast. Why is it beating so fast? She’s suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

“Holly?”

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Got a new story coming out tonight! In case you missed the set up that I buried in the middle of that massive ask I did a few days ago, here you go:

I’ve always loved some of the meme monsters (memesters, if you will), like Slendy (see: Distant Memories) and… er… Well, okay, so mainly Slendy, haha. So I thought, hell, why not make your own memester, Jamie? I’m not virally savvy enough to make anything popular enough to actually become a meme, but I figured I could at least make my own reoccurring monster. Something more than just a nebulous, shadowy force. Something with a name.

That being said, I’m not sure just how reoccurring he might be. I like this story enough I’m not sure I’ll have to revisit the idea again anytime soon. But hell, who knows. Something interesting might occur to me. :3

Anyway, expect to see the story up around 7pm, Central US time. :D

One of my lovely followers pointed out that a certain creepypasta blog reposted my story Concerning Unprotected Sex without crediting me, changing the title to “Unprotected Sex” in the process (so, I’m assuming, I couldn’t track them down).

I’d just like to remind everyone that all my stories are copyrighted under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License, which means you can share my work, but you have to credit me by name and you cannot modify my work in any way. It’s true, I marketed my stories as creepypasta, but these are not anonymous stories and they are copyrighted. I’ve allowed everyone to read my work for free at my own risk. Please don’t take advantage of this. 

I’d like to thank the follower that pointed this out to me. I am eternally in your debt. ♥

If anyone sees one my stories on another blog, and my name isn’t attached, I’d GREATLY APPRECIATE IT if they told me. These stories are my lifeblood and it hurts me when people abuse them so. 

If you have any questions, you can always message me or email me at jamiekinn@gmail.com

Thanks guys!

- Jamie

In case you missed it, here’s my newest story, Sarah. It’s short, violent and surreal—the holy trinity of creepypasta, haha. A lot of my early stories are like this, so it’s really a return to form for me; stories that jump around and change suddenly. I really like disorientation in horror. It makes things that much more unsettling.

I’m starting my newest story tonight, but I have a few ideas to choose from. I’m super excited about all of them. Which to chooooooose… *___________*

- Jamie

“Kerry! Where you going, man?”

Kerry turned around. Josh was standing on the bottom of the hill, waving up at him. Kerry blinked. “What?”

He jogged up the hill to meet him. “I said, where you going, man?”

Kerry blinked again. “Into the woods.”

Josh sighed. “Listen, if this is about Sarah, you need to let that shit go. Forget her, man. Fuck it. She’s gone and that’s that.” He gave him a sympathetic look. “Come back to the fire with us.”

“Sarah?”

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Here’s my most recent creepypasta, in case you missed it: it’s called Disappearing Room and it’s one of the stranger stories I’ve written, creepypasta or otherwise, haha. I have no idea where the idea came from or why the story went where it did because it certainly didn’t end like I’d intended it to. But then again, stories rarely ever do. o_______o

It was one of the more challenging stories I’ve ever written. The idea is so nebulous and… all over that I wasn’t sure what to do with it for a long time. I ended up throwing together Case #: 2012-01537 in a couple hours Wednesday night the week before last because I knew I wasn’t going to finish it in time for Thursday. I sat down, stared at it for a few seconds and realized it need another week’s worth of work. The story demanded it. 

It was worth the extra work because it’s become one of my favorites I’ve written so far. :D

Anyway! This Thursday I’ve got another weird one for y’all. I haven’t finished it yet, but it’s going to be short, violent and disorienting. Good times. 

GET READY FOLLOWERS. *w*

- Jamie

Dammit, creepypasta tag, stop eating my posts. :(

Read my newest story, Disappearing Room, here. If you check it out, I’ll love you forever.

And ever.

And ever.

- Jamie

Amanda had never been terribly fond of her grandmother, but with the funeral more than a week behind her, she found her thoughts turning to her periodically. Little thoughts and long forgotten memories. The smell of her grandmother’s apartment and of her hair, the corduroy texture of her recliner and matching couch, the smoothness of the varnished coffee table—rising up to her out of the fog, seemingly from nowhere.

Before the funeral, she’d been allowed to go through her grandmother’s apartment and pick through her personal affects—assuming her mother, snobby aunt or piggish uncle hadn’t claimed them first. She hadn’t been in the apartment in years, so it’d felt surreal to walk through it then. Like stepping through a tear in the fabric of space and time. She’d felt like a little girl again. The same brownish hue that covered everything, like the walls and furniture were rotting away and crumbling to dust. Her eyes traveled across the ancient clock hanging above the sagging television set—that TV was at least a decade older than she was—across the endless shelves of novelty plates and ceramic elephant figurines. She’d swept the house at least twice and yet, guiltily, she’d found nothing worth taking. Nothing that hadn’t made her stomach churn a little, anyway. She’d gagged trying to imagine any of these things sitting on the shelves in her apartment. How could anyone, let alone someone in her family, have such awful taste in decorations?

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I’d rather not say how I got my hands on this report, but this is a brief summary of its entire contents: 

When the police had found him, he was splayed out on his couch, a line of ants swarming around the spilled bowl of popcorn on his belly. The ants were slowly working their way from the dwindling food to his putrid flesh, picking deep. The photographer snapped photos all around the room, taking careful documentation of his twisted, unrecognizable face and the long, trailing tendrils that had once been his fingers.

It was these two things that had the medical examiners so confused. His fingers were each approximately seven feet in length, boneless and entirely seamless. And his face, a gnarled mess of skin and teeth and hair, which was entirely free of incisions or lesions of any kind. In fact, the cause of death had been impossible to determine. Despite his strange defects—they were careful to avoid the word “mutilations” because that implied some sort of deliberate, outside force—he had been a perfectly healthy twenty-five year old man.

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Sorry this is so late! Busy schedule and all. :(

With month two of the blog down, let’s round up all the original stories I wrote and posted this wet and rainy April:

The Experiment - A man wakes up in the middle of the jungle with blood on his head. A siren blares in the distance and smoke fills the air.

The Hallway - Two brothers and their friend decide to explore a strange hallway in the brothers’ house. Nothing will ever be the same.

The Waking Dream - Some dreams linger on into our day long after they dissipate. For Leah this particular dream does quite literally. Unfortunately for her and her fellow students, it’s a nightmare. 

The Animal - A woman wakes up to find a strange animal staring at her from across the street.

Ellie - Dan finds a strange girl named Ellie sitting by herself in a diner on the side of the highway. After talking to her a bit, she begins to tell him the story of her dark and bloody past. 

And that’s that! Once again, I’ve got thank all you lovely followers out there. You guys make this worth while. :3 ♥

- Jamie

I found her in Frank’s out on the 6. It was about two in the morning and I stopped in for a few cups of coffee. I’d been drowsing pretty badly so I’d figured the caffeine would help me out. I’d just ordered my first cup and a slice of pie when I spotted her sitting in a booth in the corner, her ragged colorless clothes drawn up around her like a nest.

She couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen, but underneath all the grime and that dark mop of her hair it was hard to tell. Kind of pretty too, in that frightened animal kind of way, her eyes wide and staring. But at the same time there was something broken about her that warded off any sort of unsavory thoughts. She seemed somehow too damaged. The kid was definitely homeless and, based on the weird looks the staff were giving her, she didn’t have any money either.

I don’t know what I was thinking. And, honestly, I still don’t. But a minute after I first saw her, I picked myself, strolled across the diner and sat in the seat across from her.

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