Novel & Cerita Creepypasta Family

The heavy doors were ajar, revealing a staircase leading down into darkness. A crypt. In the few historical books I’d read, each of the great families of Hescor had a crypt dedicated to worshiping their ancestors and burying their family members. These crypts often had secret passages connecting them to the main estate, symbolizing the unity between the living and the dead. This was rooted in the werewolves’ belief that, while a wolf’s body might perish, their soul was immortal. Descendants were expected to honor their ancestors’ souls by maintaining an eternal connection to the family.

I had a future. Then they appeared—out of nowhere—bringing along their adopted daughter, Denise. They cried in front of me, confessing their helplessness back then, their so-called suffering, weeping about how they had missed me all these years. Starved of love since childhood, I was moved by this long-overdue warmth called "family." Before the apocalypse, I used my professional knowledge to foresee the disaster. I urged them to prepare thoroughly. They suggested forming a "family survival fund" and asked me to pour in every cent I had saved since graduation—to build a safe haven for all of us.

Blood all over the walls! [Sister_Sarah]: Dear God... that poor boy, his insides were... [Veteran_Frank]: My fear level is already at 55%. We're all going to die at this rate! [Seminary_Student_Mark]: And the guy on the tenth floor! He stepped into his room and just... vanished! Not even a body left! [Livestream Chat] [Hahaha, the noobs' fear levels are skyrocketing.] [It's only the first night and so many are dead already.]

The garage got eerily quiet, and the outside world came back into focus when I heard a car drive by and a kid scream in the street. Ethan and Carson looked at each other, then at me. Carson finally spoke. "Isn't that illegal?" "We aren't related. We share foster parents, not blood." "But doesn't that make you first cousins?" "No, Ethan. It makes us of no relation. Nada. Zilch. None." "But you basically grew up together." I pulled my hair at the roots, kicking myself for letting that secret slip. "So, by that rationale, if Grace Dawson decided tomorrow she wanted to give you her virginity, you'd say no because you two grew up together? You know, since your parents are best friends?"

"That's about it. Whatever rabbit trail you sent Cricket on is going to be the newest stuff. And since she's cursing at her computer, I'm guessing it's going to be big. What have you learned?" "My contacts are all terrified of the Night Terrors. Not quite Soviet, not quite bratva, they operate on their own code. And that code seems to be based on their emotional state at any given time. Fuckers of the highest order. These monsters have raped and killed babies-shared their kills on some kind of black market, deep web chat rooms. Heavy into sex trafficking. They're end users, not suppliers. But the name of their particular game is keeping the family name feared. In whatever way is possible. No

We talked a lot about the past, both his and mine, surprised to find so many things in common: the blue-collar uprising with a single mom, the artistic inclinations, the struggle to make a living just out of school. His life had taken a 180 when he was my age. Isaac’s family home was super haunted, and they decided to conduct a paranormal investigation of the house, just for the kicks. Back then, that was a completely new TV genre, with only two shows on competing networks. So they sent Isaac’s parents away for the night and copied what they liked about each show.

It was a whole can of worms that wasn't meant to be broadcasted to those who couldn't even handle their own shit without the threat of a complete societal collapse, let alone understanding the complexities that none of them would be able to understand on a rational level. It drained me even thinking about that. Tossing the file into my to-do bin, I grabbed a few more and sorted through them one by one. Figuring out my schedule for the rest of the month wouldn't be hard but judging by the new pile on my desk, as well as the ones already sitting in my bins, I was in for a long fall season. There was always something about this time of year that drove the supernaturals into a weird frenzy. With

"Before you took me back, I grew up in this instance. The three bosses here are my family. So tell me—what's wrong with calling this my turf? And if someone orders me around in my own turf, shouldn't they get slapped?" Laughter immediately erupted around us. One veteran player even wiped tears from his eyes from laughing too hard. "Little Missy, did your dad hit you so hard you went stupid? You actually dare say the three bosses of Happy Home are your family?" Not a single person believed me. After all, the survival rate of this instance was terrifyingly low. The red-clad female ghost had once slaughtered an entire room of players in three seconds, then hung their corpses upside down from tr

"You never told me what happened. At home, I mean. Why do you hate it there so much?" Veronica sighs and looks down. "Well, I guess you can say my family is different. My parents… um, " She pauses and laughs, as if dwelling on a thought. "They aren’t exactly the best or the brightest. If there’s an award for the worst parents on the planet, I’m sure they’ll win it." I halt my steps and grab her arm, stopping her as I turn her to me. "They hurt you?"

“Don’t worry Evan, this will get back to you soon enough. You’ll get to respond to everything. Okay, I tried calling the other locations called Helencia, and I either received no response because the locations didn’t understand what I was talking about, or the phone numbers no longer worked. This means if we travel through the other realm. We don’t know if we can safely leave through the other portals. In an effort to keep up with our changing needs, I’ve ordered packs for us with simple survival gear that should work in the other realm without too much interference from magic. Now onto the library research, we’ve got our hands full. The deaths appear to happen in cycles. Each death is diffe