Creepy Pasta Collection

why i dont sleep anymore

‘There will be no pens in this test, pens are little creatures made by….” My teacher stopped her lecture on pens as a new figure appeared in the doorway. It was a boy holding books and binders but the thing that caught my eye was his looks, he had jet black hair and pale skin but the thing that was odd to me was his smile, oh how I have had many nightmares about that smile…that grin is just pure disturbing to me now

“Ah you must be Gavin, welcome to are class, everyone say hi to Gavin!” said are teacher Mrs. Quote. “Hi Gavin” said are class very droopy like, he plopped his back pack onto the only empty desk…. Beside me.

I noticed the drawing after 2 days of Gavin being at Kirkland public school, they were very weird and slightly creepy. They were of very violent scenes such as a mosquito sucking all the blood out of this one guy or a guy walking around with…no head. When I first saw them I sort of freaked out I told the teacher and ….next thing lead to the next…

I saw all of his drawings, in great detail. I had to; the cops made me for hours look over drawing over drawing after…. Mrs. Quote died.

End of pt. 1

A short film about a creepy drug clinic I used to live around.

http://the9mm.tumblr.com/post/16486135138/new-slendy-piece-draw-everyday-print

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The Tall Man: Origins

(This was supposed to be a multi-part series, but life happens, so I left it on a bit of a cliff hanger. I also wrote this 2-3 years ago, and a lot was cut out, please enjoy!)

The Tall Man: Origin

 

July 21st, 2008

Wow, my first day of college; I thought high school was terrible. It’s the weekend and I plan on doing absolutely nothing. Maybe I’ll start filming my “movie”. Yes, my friends Daryl, Amy and I agreed we would make a film together, he editing and she doing doing to music… her and that keyboard of wonders… Oh, my name, I’m John. We three live in Florida. The wooded part, not the sunny, palm trees, and beach babes part that all the old folks would die for.

Yea, not the best thing for a first journal entry. Speaking of which, let me tell you a bit of a history, the history of me. My family has a tradition, in which the eldest son would take up the responsibility of keeping a journal to document his life. My father did it, his father did it, well he did till he was murdered.I think he died in 1955. It apparently was a big deal back then, because was was apparently in a cult that worshiped a monster call… Der… Der Großmann. At least that’s what the town priest (and Google) said. I knew he was a terrible person in his last years. 

That’s actually why we started this tradition of journals. My father only knew his father through his journal.My father was an orphan who moved to America. His mother died during childbirth and his aunt thought his father was not mentally stable enough to care for a child, so she took him to America where he grew up and married my mother. He learned everything about his father through those journals. His aunt gave them to him when he turned 18. The same age I got my father’s. He never read the last one though, he swears it’s cursed.  He gave it to me on my 18th birthday, but told me to never break the seal on it  and read it. I agreed, but he had such a serious expression, I didn’t ask questions.

So this wraps my first entry for the rest of my life.

 

~March 15th, 1947

         My son, Lars, was taken away from me. Apparently I was deemed too “unstable” to take care of a child. Bah! What do they know? Only if they knew the things I knew - only if they knew the things I saw, they would know I was just trying to protect my son. The war, It does things to a soldier. We were on the Russian front, it was freezing cold, and the officer put me on watch.

After an hour of nothing I see this man, this extremely tall man. I tapped the soldier next to me’s shoulder and asked him to take a look. He called me crazy and that there was nothing out there.

I looked again, he got closer. He had…. He had arms coming out his back and his face, oh god his face…. There was none! He just stood there standing… starring… I would of kept staring if my nose hadn’t started bleeding. It bled for a while too, I almost considered calling a medic, then I look to that tall man… He was gone. When I realized what happened my nose stopped bleeding.

I think that encounter is what started it all.

He started showing up more and more. Almost like a desolate plague, only for your sanity. The only thing you could do was cover your eyes and ears and curl up like a little child till his “visit” is over. Even the other soldiers started to notice my… activities. At one point they had to send me to the sick-bay because I couldn’t stop babbling on about the “Tall Man” But the worst part of the whole deal, I don’t remember any of it. I would have the vague feeling of an episode, but I couldn’t tell you exact details, It drove me mad. Oh dear God, He’s out…

 

July 22nd, 2008

Me and Daryl found the perfect place to start the first scene to our film. We still need to pick out a name for it. Daryl suggested “Granite Wasp”. Then I proceeded to slap him and told him to quit being retarded. I suggested the “Offspring Of Fear” We both agreed and fist-bumped.

We drove 45 minutes to this wooded park/farm. It was mostly dark with the occasional sun-patch. That could come in handy one day. I took a picture with my phone and sent it to Amy, telling her to start composing to this scene. She was excited to start. It sure was a beautiful place, it perplexed me to why it was abandoned in the first place… I asked Daryl why, to which he responded, “I heard it was some stupid myth about a guy around here who killed children or some crap like that. But don’t let that worry you, there is a better chance of Bigfoot showing up than us being killed out here.” He did have a point.

We came up to an abandoned house about 10 minutes later, It was around late 40’s style of house and was starting to fade and falling apart. I walked up to the front door and knocked. I knew it wouldn’t do any good, just in case someone was living there, I didn’t wanna be rude. After a few seconds of waiting Daryl and I walked in quietly, hoping to not disturb the non-existent residents. After confirming the house’s emptiness we sat down.

“You know, for an abandoned house, there’s not much dust.” Daryl had a point, I started looking around and the inside was  actually well kept. We started to panic.

“Holy crap dude, someone is living here!” Daryl shouted. “If someone is living here then where-” The front door opened. The sun was shining on the figure so we couldn’t make out who- or what it was, but it was very tall, taller than any human, if you could call it that, could ever be. I started to slowly walk towards it. As soon as I took a step my nose started bleeding. Daryl was frozen with fear, he was white as a ghost. I look back to the tall man and took another step. Before I could take one more it lunged towards me, and I blacked out. The last thing I saw was my friend falling over.

 

~March 20th, 1947

I woke up this morning with a strange nostalgic feeling, or more like Deja Vu. I look at my scar on my wrist. It’s the mark of that terrible man. That dreaded circle-x mark he leaves on his victims, or in my case prey, keeping me alive as his plaything, the bastard. It has been a couple days since my last “visit” from him. It drives me mad seeing him and waiting for him. What is a man to do? No one has to deal with this, no one! They don’t know! How can they have the nerve to take my son and my rank away from me, for something they don’t even know about! What am I to do!? Wait, the air, it’s still. No, this can’t be… Please don’t! No no no no no no no! Oh God, He’s here! I can’t hide and he knows it. He’s playing with me. We both know it. He stopped moving. He found me.

 

July 23rd, 2008

I woke up in a field, the grass was wet so I’m guessing it was early morning. I looked around hoping to see Daryl or something. Nothing. It was just an empty field. What just happened? I check my phone for the time. 8:34 in the morning. How could I of been out that long? Didn’t Daryl call the police or something. I scratch my wrist and wince in pain. My wrists were cut and slightly bleeding. The cuts make a weird circle with an “X” through it. Where have I seen this before? I gather up my strength and stand up. The house from yesterday was nowhere to be seen. I see a small dirt path to my left, so I decide to follow it. I’m not quite sure where It leads, but it’s better than nothing.

After a couple hours of walking I reach the end of the woods. I look to my right and spot my car. Daryl’s is missing, which means he got away right? So wouldn’t he of called the police or something? Whatever, I get in the car and drive to a pharmacy to buy some bandages for my wrist, the blood isn’t pouring, but drips of blood were still falling.  I pull into the parking lot and enter the store. I grab my supplies, and head towards the checkout. The lady at the register was really nice, so I posed her a question,

“Hey, have you heard of that house in the woods a few blocks south of here?”  She raises an eyebrow at me and says,

“Uhh, they tore that house a couple of years ago, why?” I stare at her for a second,

“There is no way they tore that house down, I was just there yesterday!” She shrugs her shoulders and says,

“I don’t know sir, just pay for the stuff.” I sigh and give her a 10 dollar bill.

“Keep the change.”

I walk out the door and open my car and get in, checking my phone. I have a text from Daryl saying, “Hey dude, have you found a spot for our movie yet?”