11 Miles Creepypasta Novels & Stories

One mile. I stumble over a cracked piece of sidewalk. I catch myself, scraping my hands raw on the concrete, but I don't stop. I can't stop. Not yet. "Just a little further," I pant, as the taste of copper fills my mouth. "Just... hold on." Cars rush past me, spraying dirty water onto my legs. No one stops. Why would they? I look like a madwoman. A wet, bedraggled ghost running through a hurricane. At half a mile, my vision starts to tunnel. The edges of the world go black, and the whirring in my chest is getting louder, drowning out the thunder. It sounds like a grinding gear.

(Warning: This chapter contains elements of violence, gore, and 18+. These are all imaginary elements and should not be applied to reality.) At Lentia, the howl of a wolf from somewhere made Alice a little uneasy, looking up at the cold night sky. Alice put on a long coat and a hat that covered her face, sat on the carriage, and silently moved to a place not too far from her inn. She walked down at the beginning of the alley. Alice looked at this familiar, dark and damp sloped alley, each step down making her feel disgusted and nauseous.

I can't afford to die in the hands of these murderers, he promised herself. The place smelled of blood, of fresh carcasses being burned, with traces of dew and moonflower. The smell was familiar to Milla's nose as it was not her first mission. She put the gun back in the holster. She is in a remote village in Mexico. It will take about fifteen hours on the dusty and unpaved road for a car that wants to go there. Walls twenty feet high enclosed the large community.

Jayk asks me. "One, that never happened. I used to have sleep paralysis. Two, that's actually your fault. You used to hide me in your closet when Dad lost his shit. Three. Can I go?" "I don't care how it gets done as long as it gets done," he shrugs. "Stop remembering things," "I wish I could," I shrug. He looks me over and nods murmuring something to himself. "I'd be delighted for you to join me on a run," Miles holds the piece of paper out of me to take. "I am going to load up. Get your guns and wear something black,"

The distance between them was shorter than he thought. “That’s not much. We still have around five miles left before we reach Salstar.” Trenton considered the options they have. They don’t have that many left. Werewolves can run at a top speed for a short time or keep a steady pace for a long time to cross long distances.

I whisper, "We're going to go down there, okay? We'll be safe." My Maddox nods, the fear in his eyes still evident, but this time, it’s accompanied with hope. As I ease myself and my Maddox down into the darkness of the storm cellar. The door closes behind us, sealing us in a world of shadows. The dim light of a single, flickering lantern hanging on the wall barely penetrates the oppressive gloom of the cellar as my Maddox and I huddle together. I clutch my Maddox’s hand tighter, afraid of being separated from him, as I lead the way through the labyrinthine corridors of the cellar. My fingers brush against the cold, damp stone walls as we move cautiously in search of the tunnel that’ll lead

As he pushed back a bookshelf, revealing another hidden door, the weight of the situation pressed upon me, intensifying the adrenaline coursing through my veins. It was as creepy as the basement under the Costello Mansion. I cautiously pushed open the door, my heart pounded in my chest. The sight that lay before me was nothing short of extraordinary. A seemingly endless corridor stretched out in front of me, shrouded in shadows that seemed to whisper secrets of their own. As I cautiously crept along the corridor, my senses heightened, my every step echoing through the eerie silence.

I grinned, walking away. “Fine,” he whispered, giving up in despair. “I guess I’ll just roam about till I disappear too,” he called out and walked away. “Typical Miles,” I sighed, inching towards the stairs, avoiding different holes that were present in it. A strange mist welcomed me the moment I got to the first floor. At first, I couldn’t see but my vision became planer as I took in the objects in my surroundings. It was a room that was outgrown with weeds and moss. It stank, almost as if something had died here.

They passed a sign: NEW ORLEANS - 400 MILES Four hundred miles to answers. Four hundred miles from home. Smith's eyes flashed silver again in the darkness. This time, Tamara was sure she saw something moving under his skin. The parasites. Fighting against the memories trying to surface.

If we do, sleeping indoors will be a refreshing change. San Francisco is listed as only 19 miles, but that’s because one of the claw marks has obliterated what must have been the first 1. So that means we’re 119 miles from our destination. That’s still a pretty long walk ahead of us to be sure, but one I know we’ve got plenty of time left to make before the twenty-first.