Short horror and strange imaginings; all these bits and pieces belong to me unless stated otherwise.
New, original stories every Thursday.
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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?”
“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?”
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?
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.
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
HOLY CRAP GUYS. HOLY. CRAP. The ever-lovely Dizfox just drew this GORGEOUS fan art of my flagship character, Iva. You guys haven’t met Iva yet, so I figure this is as good a time as any to give her a bit of an introduction:
Iva Daphne Moreuil a supernatural beacon and the center of my Willow Hills/Sandford universe (where The Screen, Max, Across the Hall, The Waking Dream and several others take place). She doesn’t know this, but a lot of the strange things that happen in my stories are inadvertently her fault. When she inhabits a city (like Willow Hills or Sandford), she kinda “lights” the whole place up, attracting the attention of many strange and undesirable things. She doesn’t mean to do it, though, and she’s not even aware that she does.
Iva is tiny—just a hair under 4’11” and built like a bird. She’s has dark, unruly hair, which she usually keeps short, and olive skin as the result of her French/Portuguese heritage. Iva is timid and quiet, haunted by a myriad of crippling social and sexual anxieties. She has a strong vivid personality inside, but one would never know by seeing her in person. If one got to know her, they may catch glimpses if she’s comfortable around them. She has a best friend named Alice, who is her polar opposite. Alice tries her hardest to keep Iva okay, but it’s an uphill battle.
Iva’s story comes into play when, one morning, she wakes up to find that a strange, shadowy girl has begun to follow her around. One by one, this girl begins to destroy every relationship, every thread tying Iva to the world, leaning on all her fears and anxieties. The thing is, no one seems to be able to see the girl. And from the moment Iva meets her, she claims herself to be Iva’s “nemesis”, a being whose sole purpose is Iva’s inevitable death.
I have a large portion of this novel written, as well as the first drafts for several short stories about her and the blueprints for two subsequent novels. Needless to say, she’s an extraordinarily important character in this universe and to me and one to keep an eye out for. The chances of her popping up in one of these creepypastas is pretty damn high, haha.
There are several other important characters who I may take the time to introduce in the upcoming weeks. It’s time for me to start bringing this universe together. :D
ANYWAY, more importantly, I’d like to thank Dizfox again for the SPECTACULAR art. She’s a fantastic, generous lady who deserves all your love and admiration. Go check her out and make sure to give her a follow. ;3
- Jamie
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.
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.
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.
Welp, March has come and gone. And so has the first month of this blog. We’ve seen many a’ creepypasta pass through here, all of which were written by yours truly. Now it’s time to bring ‘em all together:
Concerning Unprotected Sex - Anders receives a rude awakening at 4am. Hint: It’s not the dog barking.
Max, Across the Hall - Max lives across the hall. He’s in a band, he fucks his girlfriend regularly and now there are strange smells coming from his apartment…
Gwei (1, 2, 3, 4) - David moves to Hong Kong for a job. He soon finds out the apartment complex he’s been moved to is wracked with a terrible curse.
Electronica - A prose poem about a place where machine and flesh meet.
Distant Memories… - A man conjures up a childhood memory of a being watched by an impossibly tall man with a blurred face (aka. I hope you like Slenderman).
The Screen - Eric has been single for nearly two years. In an act of desperation he contacts his old girlfriend, secretly hoping to rekindle the flame. Unfortunately, these things rarely turn out like one would hope.
Watch - A mother finds herself being watched constantly by a strange and horrible creature that no one else seems to notice. How long can she keep up the illusion of sanity?
Infinite Regress - “Infinite regress in optics is the formation of an infinite series of receding images created in two parallel facing mirrors.”
A Land of Grass and Hills - Set in a post-apocalyptic world, a nameless girl wanders through a land of grass and hills, trying to put as many miles between her and home as possible.
Dead Rat - June finds a dead rat in her closet. June is abused by her boyfriend. Watch June’s life quickly spiral out of control.
Down - Charlie has to walk past the cemetery on his way home after work. One night he stumbles across three friends breaking into the cemetery and they invite him to come along. It’s all down hill from there.
Anyway, that’s all of them for this month! I just want to thank all my followers for their overwhelming support and love. You guys are amazing! ;__________; ♥
ALSO! Stay tuned! I’ll be beginning April with a new story for you guys. It’s a short one tentatively called “The Experiment.” Expect to see it up sometime tomorrow evening. Keep your eyes peeled!
Much love!
Every day after work, I had to walk past the cemetery to get home. This could get pretty nerve-wracking at night. Fenced-in and lightless. Black hills dotted with stone teeth, stretching on forever, washing into the horizon. Silent.
Walking alone one night, I caught sight of three people strolling along the opposite side of the road. I watched as they crossed the deserted street, gathered around the cemetery fence and, one-by-one, climbed over it. By the time I reached them, the last one was coming over the top of the fence. She landed on the opposite side with a soft thud, boots muted by the damp grass.
June stared at the dead rat in her closet, at a loss. For months she’d been hearing it scuttle around her apartment at night, little feet on the hardwood floor, droppings in the morning to mark where it’d been. With disdain she’d sweep up the little black pellets with her hand broom and deposit them in the trash. Almost every morning. So often it’d nearly become routine.
The mousetrap that had snared it, she’d put down within the first week after discovering that the thing was running around her apartment. She’d almost forgotten that it was even there. Just another feature of the closet. So it had come as quite a surprise to her when she’d opened the sliding door to find a twisted, furry body pinned beneath the trap’s wire jaw. It was quite decidedly dead, its little face pointed up in the air, mouth open, frozen in an expression of agony and surprise. Its yellow teeth gleamed in the morning light.
I
Animal instincts, animal extracts. Bone powders and bone grinds. Strike the bone against the flint. Forty-degree angle, eight hundred pounds per square inch. Extract a blade. Fasten the blade to a branch. Becomes a spear. The spear enters flesh. The spear enters bone. The spear sits behind an inch of glass. The spear glimmers benign under spotlights. Eyes click in their sockets, following its edge. A swipe and the neck is severed. Hung upside-down the blood pools on the ground. Crooked legs kick for a minute then are still. Cut the animal down. The blade enters at the groin, shimmies upwards to the belly, rests at the rib cage. Steam pours out of the cavity into the frozen air. Sever the head and feet. Peel the skin back, carefully. Save the pelt. Scoop the organs out with both hands. Save the heart. The liver. The kidneys. Careful not to break the bladder or intestines. They spoil the meat.
