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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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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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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Allee woke at dawn, startled out of a vivid nightmare she’d been having. By the time she sat up, hand at her chest, the dream was all but forgotten. Sweat-drenched she threw back her covers and glanced at her clock: 5:55 am.

She got up to grab a glass of water.

On the way back to her bed, she was overcome with a strange, vulnerable feeling. She felt like she was being watched. Paranoid, she glanced out her window, peering between the blinds at the dim, blue-washed landscape outside. 

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Alright! I just finished the story I’ll be posting for you guys tomorrow. It’s a short one called The Animal. It’s about a girl who sees a very odd thing watching her from across the street.

The week after that, I’m planning on posting a story that I wrote awhile back. It’s a longer one called Ellie and it’s one of my favorites. :D

I don’t know what it is, but I’ve recently obsessed with writing sequels, haha. I just started writing the sequel to A Land of Grass and Hills and I’ve been throwing around ideas for sequels to Max, Across the Hall and The Waking Dream. So expect to see those at some point in the future.

Don’t worry, though. One of the big draws of creepypasta is the ability to just jump into a story and enjoy it, so I’m not going to bog everyone down with required reading just to enjoy the things I post. I do have a shared universe for a lot of these stories, though (The Waking Dream, The Screen, Max, Across the Hall, The Hallway, Down and Dead Rat are definitely in it, and possibly a few others), so expect to see a bit of a crossover going on occasionally. Some characters might pop up here and there, so keep an eye out. ;3

Anyway! Exciting things on the horizon, followers! Make sure to keep checkin’ back so you don’t miss a thing. ♥

- Jamie

Just in case ya missed it, I posted my new story The Waking Dream yesterday evening. It’s definitely one of my favorites I’ve written. 

I started writing it, appropriately, while I was half-asleep. My apartment was being shown early in the morning and, being the night owl that I am, I’d only gotten a few hours of sleep. So, barely conscious, I dragged myself over to the nearest coffee shop and started pouring the story out. Like pretty much everything I’ve written, I came up with the concept on the spot and kinda made it up as I went along. This method doesn’t always work so well, but this time I got lucky, haha.

Anyway, I’d just like to say hellooooo new followers! Thank you, guys! You’re all lovely. Seriously, all of you. ;_________; ♥

You ever have one of those dreams that’s so strong it colors your whole day after you wake up? You know what I mean. There’s just this atmosphere that hangs around you like a veil and you can’t help but see everything through its cloth. It’s indefinable, inescapable. It’s like you pull a piece of your dream out with you and it doesn’t go away until you go back to sleep the next night. Put the piece back where it belongs.

I’m sure you’ve felt this many times in your life. That’s normal, right? Well. Me, I’ve only felt it once.

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In the house where I grew up, there was a hall that was always dark. An architectural anomaly, it was up on the second floor, through the master bedroom, behind a tall wooden door. It was narrow, tall, and surprisingly deep—fifteen feet at least—and made entirely of dark wood, black with age. There was a small window at the end of it, about a foot from the ceiling, no bigger than the palm of your hand. If any light that came into the hall, it came through there.

Most of the hall was blank wall space, save two doors, one on either side of the hall. Through the doors were two empty rooms: hardwood floors, lined with colorless, peeling wallpaper. Both were completely lightless. 

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Just finished writing a story I’m EXTREMELY happy with! Probably right up there with Max, Across the Hall and Dead Rat for my favorites. For now, I’ll call it… I dunno. Waking Dream. How ‘bout that?

Anyway, I have another story coming up before that one called The Hallway. It’s a “long” one (beaten only by Gwei for the longest, actually). I say “long” because it’s really only 14 pages. So it’s long for creepypasta I guess, haha. I’m really happy with that one too, come to think of it. I can’t say much about it yet other than it’s about three kids, jealousy and an architectural anomaly.

Keep an eye out for that one next Thursday evening. Be excite, followers! Be excite!

- Jamie

He woke to the sound of alarms and the distant roar of fire. The side of his face was buried in the mud and he spat out a mouthful of it as he pulled himself to his feet. His head swam and he nearly toppled into a patch of ferns. Thick smoke filled the air overhead, billowing over the treetops, visible even against the night sky.

The complex. The entire complex was on fire, burning to the ground not even half a mile out. He couldn’t see it, but he could smell it. An explosion. He remembered that something had overloaded. Blown up. He’d hit his head. And then running. He was running, everyone around him was running. But it’d been too late—for most of them. Blood flying, streaking the walls. The sound of flesh shredding. Screaming.

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