Creepypastas Stories Novels & Stories

Epilogue: Now that I have written several of these stories, I find that my old ghosts have started to haunt my dreams yet again. It is amazing that once things are written down, they begin to take on a life of their own. Just remember, if you don’t want things to go bump in the night, don’t tell anyone else about them.

A thick stream of his cum poured out of my wrecked, gaping pussy, dripping down onto the bed in a nasty white mess. I collapsed onto the mattress, trembling and panting, completely used up. My holes were sore, red, and leaking. The live chat was exploding with tips and comments. Mr. Davis reached over and gave my ass a final hard slap. “Good girl,” he said loud enough for the mic. “Show them that creampie.” I weakly lifted my ass toward the camera, letting everyone see his cum leaking out of my pussy. He ended the stream a minute later. The second the camera was off, he pulled the mask off and looked at me with dark, satisfied eyes.

by the time the sun shimmers at the horizon behind me and the crescent moon dips below the horizon before me, I have thought of every word I know of to describe really, really, really boring walking. There is absolutely nothing here. I think of the stories we told each other when we were pups. About wraiths that lived beneath the sand of the Barren that would pull you down into their nests. They would paralyze you and then their grubs would feed off you, slowly eating you alive. That was a favorite. There are the roaming packs of wilder-scorpions, creatures that are half beast, half scorpion. Where the beast's tail should be is a scorpion's sting that will cause your skin to turn black and t

Jess just stood there as if her legs didn't work as the stranger reached out and smelt her hair. "Hey! What the hell are you doing you CREEP!" Jackie yelled as she ran over. "Let's go Jess." Jackie pulled her by the arm and they rushed for the door. Jess could hear the guy talking to himself as he watched them leave, "Such a pretty girl, I'm gonna getcha pretty girl." Jess noticed that he was missing a few teeth when he smiled at her through the storefront window. "What a creep, what the hell was wrong with that guy? He was probably some kind of pedophile. Why did you even let him close enough to touch you?" Jackie went on rambling as Jess sat in silence.

The Pastor and the Slutty Nuns Kristen ponders her next story as she rides her bike home from school. Writing naughty stories has consumed her life. It's all she thinks about. She constantly masturbates, picturing the perfect story to pen into her corrupted diary never realizing how she warps the world around her. She's hardly in the world any longer. She can't remember the last time she spoke to anyone. She eats leftovers out of the fridge at odd hours. She doesn't speak to her mom, her brother, her sisters, her father, or the two Japanese exchange students who, for some reason, were always naked in her house.

“If you sleep now, Papi will tell you a special story you’ve never heard.” Ash paused mid-chaos. “What story?” “Secret. The title is… The Sausage Princess Trapped in the Yam Castle.” I groaned. “Seriously.” But Ash looked spellbound. He grabbed his blanket and dragged Pepper along as he dashed into the bedroom. Thirty minutes, five pages, and one absurd fairy tale later — complete with a vegetarian dragon, a talking prata, and a prince who won a flip-flop racing contest — the tiny creature finally passed out.

She bowed her head, focusing on her hands to hide her embarrassment. "Don't be sorry." Etta spoke gently, scared that she would scare this beautiful stranger. " What happened? What did they do to you?" Etta tired to gently coax Annalise to tell her story. "I can't. I can't say...they'll find out and they'll punish me." Annalise was wringing her hands and shaking her head. Etta could see she was clearly terrified of her pack. It made more curious about what she had been through. " Okay, you don't have to tell me about that. What about your parents? Do they know what was happening?" Hoping fiercely that they were not involved.

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

Hey Lovely Readers! Thankyou for giving my book a chance! I'm nothing without y'all! Now I want to let you know that I've started a spin-off story of CBTP and decided to continue with this. The main characters of the upcoming story are; Emma Davis, Bella's cousin and Hayden Wilson, Christian's secretary. I appreciate your feedback but no mean comments! Coz, why be rude when you can be kind? Plus don't steal my work! Because I've worked hard on this plot and if someone copies my story, I'd not hesitate to take action.

According to the stories, a wealthy industrialist had murdered his young wife here in 1897, and her spirit had never left. The master bedroom was enormous. A massive four-poster bed with tattered silk curtains stood against one wall. An ornate fireplace sat opposite, and tall windows overlooked the neglected garden below. Moonlight filtered through the cracked glass, casting eerie silver patterns across the dusty floor. Harper unrolled her sleeping bag on the bed, changed into a thin white tank top and soft black sleep shorts, then sat cross-legged in the center, sipping whiskey from the bottle. “Honestly, this is kind of boring,” she muttered to the empty room after twenty silent minutes. “