Creepiest Creepypasta Stories の小説・ストーリー

I gulped hard as I peddled my way to the creek, greeting some of the townsfolk on the way when I got stopped by Mrs Maisel, another fanatic of the supernatural. “I heard you’ve been hanging around Monsoon Creek Rory,” She said whilst trying to crack a nut with her fingers, the woman was a nutcase, “You better be careful. Werewolves and Vampires are looking to prey on a beautiful soft lass as yourself.” I rolled my eyes in disbelief, “Wolves, Vampires and whatnot don’t exist Mrs Maisel. I’m pretty sure it’s just a cooked up story by some story tellers from your—

It would fix me in an unblinking stare while its black lips curled into a sinister sneer. I would try to look away, but find I couldn’t move as a sense of dread washed over me. Then, as soon as it appeared it was gone, replaced by an image even more horrific, that of someone I loved dying a gruesome death while the creature’s high-pitched cackle sounded in my head. My father, my aunt, my mates, my friends. The victim changed every night but it always ended the same, with me waking up screaming with the all too real scent of blood still in my nostrils.

“The townspeople are now looking for the Duke and the Duchess of Sloria but some people in Hapsberg claim that they saw a skeleton-like creature at Elthezar’s mansion on the night he died. They say that a strange syrup scent was lingering in the air and they caught a glimpse of a corpse walking towards the mansion. It was decaying and wore half torn clothes. One of the villagers who saw that creature recognized that the dress was similar to a local girl who had gone missing.” A long stretch of silence follows his words. Antonio leans back, thinking hard. A skeleton-like creature with a syrup smell. It seems to match the description of creatures from fairy tales which they have heard in their

“Now you’re almost grown, and almost grown means curious, which means dangerous.” I cross my arms. “I am grown!” I shout. She doesn’t hesitate. “There are bonehounds. Starving, half-dead things with skin stretched tight over broken skeletons. They smell blood and chase it for miles. There are whisperers, creatures that climb inside your head and convince you to walk off cliffs or drink poison. There’s a woman made of smoke who turns into a bird and pecks out eyes with her beak. A man with bark for skin who collects girls and grows them into his tree.”

written by Isabella The air seemed to thicken as he stood there, his presence commanding attention. The old lady's eyes flickered upward, her gaze meeting his for a brief moment before she looked away, her expression unreadable. The granddaughter, however, couldn't help but stare, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination. The little girl, Violet, flinched in fear as she met eyes with the mafia man, Shawn. She quickly hid behind her grandmother, her eyes wide with terror. Shawn's expression was cold and calculating, his deep voice firm as he asked, "Why are you here?"

I still think the dude is a creeper, ok? “That means that most of us, apart from those faes with necromancy abilities and vampiric faes, cannot pass this passage unless we are dead. So, what do you suggest, Kandreah? To suck us all dry and turn us into leeches so we can pass the bloody spikey wall? I don’t want to become a bloodsucker anytime soon.” I blurted bluntly in one breath. Well, I am not sure, to be honest, what would be worse, to be dead or to be a bloodsucker.

The bed slammed once, twice, and then a heavy silence fell over the house. Lena came right then. She shuddered, her body writhing against her own hand as a wave of heat crashed over her. She buried her face in the pillow to stifle her cries, her eyes wet and her heart racing at a terrifying speed. When the pulsing finally slowed, the silence that followed felt louder than any music.

It’s a good thing that we came prepared. “This place is creepy.” Kai drug out the word creepy. I have to agree with him. Neither of us got any rest last night. We kept hearing strange sounds. Moaning and screams from things we have never experienced before. We saw a faceless spirit looking thing last night. I believe they are called a Hupia, although I can’t be certain that’s what it really was. It didn’t bother us, but this place seems to be filled with them. Something else that we have come across is a Morko. It is an elemental Ooze type creature. They are freaky as hell but the only way they could hurt you is to love you to death. We have also crossed paths with a few dangerous creatures,

His rolled up sleeves reveal the thick veins in his forearms, and the scent of him, that woodsmoke and sharp musk, seems to drift across the rows of desks, clogging my lungs. "Most writers fail because they are afraid to feel," Professor Tyler begins, his eyes snapping back to mine for a split second before moving on. "They describe a scene like a blueprint. But a story is not a blueprint. It is an experience. If you want your reader to bleed, you have to describe the coldness of the blade. If you want them to burn, you have to make them feel the heat of the skin."

“So, you believe that there is a possibility that they plotted your father’s death and mother’s disappearance. And there is a great chance that your father’s schemes were discovered, or reported by someone… which eventually lead to his death—ordered to be murdered. And that leaves you to find who did it. Whoever stabbed your father in the back could be someone close to him.” “Correct.” Raverine grabbed a glass of whiskey and took it in one gulp. “Could be his friends or foes or… his own family.” I nodded and turned my attention to the computer screen. I typed in vampires in the search bar and mythical stories came up on the search browser first. “I wonder who wrote these articles and stories