Bob Creepypasta Novels & Stories

We stayed on the heels of Mei-Lien as she wove her way through the crowds on Fremont Street. Bruce and I each carried a case containing a crossbow and Shen carried one with a supply of arrows. We reached the novelty shop and sent Bruce inside to look around. Besides the surly faced clerk who forever had his face buried in a horror novel, there were only a few customers inside the store. Bruce stood in front of the door that led to Wadim’s den and looked back at the clerk and the few customers that were mulling around. Making certain he wasn’t being observed, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a small leather pouch. He held it in his hand and walked very slowly toward the door. He eased

Both my socks are torn on the knees but that's the least of my worries because I can hear footsteps approaching me. The footsteps draw nearer and nearest but I'm too scared to scream. All I'm doing now is moving backwards which is quite difficult considering I'm doing it whilst still sitting on the ground, I'm pretty sure I'm bruising my back. "P-please don't hurt m." I beg the silhouette that's drawing nearer and nearer. I still can't see but I can tell it's a man and I'm fearing for my life. "No need to fear." He says and I instantly pick up on the all too familiar british accent.

Harmony asked again but Vivian was already pulling her out of the house. ** Ichabod ‘s mind was not at rest and he was surprised when he saw them coming out so soon. Harmony put an arm around him, looking as if she had seen a ghost. “What happened? I was so worried?” he asked. “That woman is so creepy. Giving me goosebumps all over. Please let’s get out of here,” Vivian said and they began to go back the way they have come. Harmony was quiet, she seemed troubled and as they walked further ahead. Ichabod looked back…he could see the woman’s face by the window, looking back at him….

She sighed, "no, I told you we aren't like that. He has been on Instagram today posting pictures of him and his daughter." A customer came in so Brooke to me bye. After hanging up the phone I turned on the tv and flipped through the channels stopping on some scary movie. It had a horrible storyline and sub-par actors but it seemed to be ok. I had turned it on about halfway through so I was trying to figure out what exactly was going on. The only thing I knew for sure was something was haunting some kids in an old hospital. What was killing them? I had no clue, I couldn't decide if it was a ghost or a real person.

I created a monster to ruin her. Now he’s ruining me. **** Helena spent her nights writing savage Alphas who dominated, punished, and shattered their women. One car crash later, she died, and woke up trapped in the body of Azalea, the pure 18-year-old princess she had written to be broken. Her fictional story became real as King Valdman Wolverton came for her. Scarred by years of torture, this ruthless werewolf king slaughtered Azalea’s entire family in front of her eyes and dragged her away in chains. He doesn’t want a quick death. He wants her to bleed for every sin her father committed; slowly, brutally, and completely. Helena feels every second of it: every painful lash and every cr

I let out a soft but shocked gasp as the creep laid unconsciously on the floor, with his blood mixing with the water. Is he dead??

"I was normal before this month. Maybe cursed, but not like this." "Cursed how?" "I've always had nightmares," she admitted. "Voices. Fire. And sometimes I wake up with my hands glowing." Kael's jaw tightened. "Then it started long ago. The flare in the forest was just the first time it broke through completely." She exhaled shakily. "You talk like you've seen it before." "I have." He turned away, running a hand through his hair. "The last time it happened, the Bloodbound burned everything in a hundred-mile radius."

↳ “Then we need pics to judge” “As an actual therapist: you’re about to lose your license and your life” “If you die can I have your stuff” “OP are you writing a book because this reads like one” I groaned so loud the bed vibrated. Bree was still prancing in circles. (Mate! Date! Mate!) Verm flickered in, looking concerned {You okay?} “No. I’m crowdsourcing survival tips from strangers because I have a date with the guy who almost murdered me, then apologized so now my brain has decided he’s my soulmate.”

He nudged her knees with his foot until she made a noise of protest and then grudgingly shifted half an inch. “Just need ten minutes of doomscrolling before I doom‑sleep,” he said. “Romantic,” she muttered, eyes still on her own screen. He smirked and opened a browser. An article about urban legends melted into a link roundup about horror web serials. He clicked one without thinking, thumb lazy. The site that loaded wasn’t flashy. Plain white background. Black text. Username at the top: **InkAndAshes**. Title: **SURVIVAL GAME – EPISODE 1: THE BUS**