Every creepypasta has never bothered me. The people in those stories never act as normal human beings. So I'm constantly reminded that the story was written by a wanna be edgy cracker kid.

Bump for later.

Russian sleep experiment

Jvk mod for Morrowind... that one was actually pretty creepy. Not because its about creatures or haunted stuff or anything, but just playing the mod for too long will make you start to see things.

You were on your way home when you died. It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. TheEMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me. And that’s when you met me. “What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?” “You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words. “There was a… a truck and it was skidding…” “Yup,” I said. “I… I died?” “Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said. You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?” “More or less,” I said. “Are you god?” You asked. “Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.” “My kids… my wife,” you said. “What about them?” “Will they be all right?” “That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.” You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty. “Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.” “Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?” “Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.” “Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,” “All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.” You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?” “Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.” “So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.” “Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.” I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had. “You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.” “How many times have I been reincarnated, then?” “Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.” “Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?” “Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.” “Where you come from?” You said. “Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.” “Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.” “Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.” “So what’s the point of it all?” “Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?” “Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted. I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.” “You mean mankind? You want us to mature?” “No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.” “Just me? What about everyone else?” “There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.” You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…” “All you. Different incarnations of you.” “Wait. I’m everyone!?” “Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back. “I’m every human being who ever lived?” “Or who will ever live, yes.” “I’m Abraham Lincoln?” “And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added. “I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled. “And you’re the millions he killed.” “I’m Jesus?” “And you’re everyone who followed him.” You fell silent. “Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.” You thought for a long time. “Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?” “Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.” “Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?” “No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.” “So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…” “An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.” And I sent you on your way.

February 27 2015 My hood barely covered my eyes, I was too old for this. I had been trying for almost a decade to summon a demon, but to no avail. But I had been convinced to try one last time, my mates, Tallan, Sammy, and David, who were clothed in the matching colors of black and red, each stood in one of five pentacles. Ours surrounded a massive one in the middle of the floor. The ritual was almost complete, In unison we chanted "Vocem inferorum condita creatura, nunc te voco huic mortali spiram, quaeso vos, caveam, et ut ego te volo. Quaeso vos, caveam, et ut ego te volo. Caveam. Et ut ego te volo!" As we finished a thundering roar filled the basement, suddenly the middle pentacle began filling up with smoke, the smoke, as if with a life of its own, felt at the edges of the pentacle, almost like it was trying to find a way out. "Gonzalo, Tallan, David," We all turned to Sammy "It worked!" Sammy was practically bouncing with joy. Then like the crack of a whip the smoke froze, it began slowly, slithering out through a small crack in its pentacle, as more and more of the smoke got out it began going faster, and faster, until it shattered the pentacle. "Nobody move!" I yelled "Our pentacles should protect us" Should... March 1 2015 I don't know how I made it out of that house, that thing, it ripped them apart. Then even worse, it took their forms, I ran, there was nothing I could do, I had seen my friends massacred. I had doomed them, we should have ran. There was nothing I could do, I'm only human, right? March 4 2015 I saw him today, Tallan, or what was once him. I'm pretty sure he saw me to. I have new plan, the police, they can help, right? March 8 2015 Oh my god, oh my god! They didn't stand a chance, he wiped them out, the monster. I had walked in normally, I told them what I had done. They looked at me and laughed, told me I'm insane. Then he came, he came, he came once they knew, they didn't stand a chance! They told me I was mad, I'm not, right? March 24 2015 It's been sixteen days since last I wrote, sixteen days. I am hidden, hidden were none shall know. This church, my sanctuary, shall protect me, right? March 26 2015 He is here, I can feel it, come to claim the last person that knows about him, he's come for me, me, he came to take me as he did the rest. I am clever, yes, oh so clever. This journal, this journal of mine, out the window it shall go within fifteen ticks of the clock, my last message, If you find this let others know, I don't believe he can find you, nothing can hunt a man down through his knowledge, right?

It's been two weeks since this whole thing started. It all started with a tanker accident. It was all over the news. Everyone thought it was just another oil spill. There were plenty of volunteers - plenty of people wanting to help the poor, defenseless animals. Plenty of victims. Within hours of the tanker accident, it started happening. The animals had gone crazy; they were scratching and biting the clean-up volunteers. They said that it was an adverse effect to whatever was in that tanker. Rescue workers were still trying to get the crew out of the ship. They could hear screaming inside. There were screams to open the doors, but that's when it all went to hell - as soon as they cut the door out. There were six minutes of broadcast before it went silent - six minutes of screaming and agony. The ship crew attacked the rescue workers like rabid baboons. They were breaking bones and tearing flesh. The people on the shore weren't fairing any better. Those that had been attacked by animals were attacking everyone else. It was worse than any war zone report; it was sheer brutality, and yet the broadcast still went on for six minutes. There was six minutes, and then blank faces. Nobody could explain what was happening. They tried to continue with the regular news, the economy, the weather, and a cute human interest story, but they couldn't make us unsee what we saw. I tried to continue with my regular existence, but every time I switched on the news or walked by a news stand, it was there: this big mystery. They had some explanations: it was an infection, or maybe brain parasites, but it didn't matter. It wasn't the infection we were afraid of, it was them. Four days after the initial report, a state of emergency was raised... And yet, we've all seen this before. It's in every zombie movie, ever. People didn't know who to trust. People were stockpiling food and weapons. Some tried to flee, but it seems every zombie movie was right. They didn't make it. Three days later, they arrived in my town. I expected moans, shuffling corpses, and dismemberment, but that's where the movies lied. They ran through the streets, screaming. I remember running to my front door as fast as I could, locking, barricading, and doing anything to make sure it would stay shut, and then I headed for the window. I was on the second story and I could see the carnage. They were unstoppable. They were aware. A group of them made their way through a building across the street. They jumped straight through plate glass windows. Even the shards slicing through them made no difference; they just kept coming. My barricade wasn't going to hold. I rushed around my flat, grabbing supplies and jamming them into the most secure room of the flat. I went back for one last look across the street, and I wish I hadn't. In a second story window, my face met one of theirs. They knew where I was. I quickly dashed into the room and locked the door. I don't have any kind of panic room or a secure basement, so the safest place I could think of was my bathroom. There were no windows, and only one door; it had a lock. I had filled my sink and bathtub full of water so I could stay for a while. I sat there in the dark room with the distant screams in my ears. I began to feel like I may have overreacted; it had been two hours with no sign of them. It actually got quieter and I thought they had moved on. Maybe I could leave the room and get to the kitchen. I could grab some more food to wait it out. A crash came from the front door. There was the sound of someone running full force into the door and knocking down the barrier behind it. There were a couple more crashes before I knew they were inside. There were rapid footsteps moving around the flat, a couple of screams and then a bang on the wall beside me. My eyes were open to their widest, even in the pitch black darkness of the room. There was another bang, and then another. They knew I was there and they knew I was scared. This was the zombie nightmare I had been expecting from the start. I had nowhere to run. There was only so much time before they would break in. I sat with my back to the door, hoping my extra weight would make it harder for them to get in. Then it got worse. "Why don't you open the door?" There was a voice on the opposite side of the door. There were no screams or moans, just a quiet, whispery voice. And then more of them. "We've come for you." "You'll be happier if you open the door." "It's not so bad..." The whispery voices became a cacophony of noise trying to persuade me, to break me, to fool me. I had heard that the moaning of zombies would drive people insane but this was worse - a siren call. I sat in the darkness and hoped and prayed that they'd get bored, but they don't get bored and they don't leave. I managed to use the mirror to peek under the door, only to be greeted by horrible unblinking eyes, blood smeared faces, screams, and more horrible whispers. That was two days ago. I don't know what to do anymore... Maybe it won't be so bad...

Russian Keep Awake Gas

[i] [/i]

>i was only 9 years old

>be me >goes to gamestop >sees mayro gaem >cashier warns me "be very careful" >goes home >puts game in console >mayro looks into me >he has no pupil >hyper realistic blood starts flowing from walls >*scream >dead

HYPER REALISTIC GRAPHICS AND THE GRUNT SAID I WILL KILL ME AND ITS EYES BKED SO I BROKE THE HALO THREE DISK AND CUT MY THROAT I AM POSTING THIS FROM BLOOD GULTCH WITH HYPER REALISTIC GRAPHICS