Creepypastas Wattpad Novels & Stories

] [Poltergeist: My whole world just got wrecked! [The Hungry Dead: Forget this food. Lemme hug Granny for safety!] I snickered at their dumbstruck faces and slowly made my way down. “Look at yourselves! Why are you all hanging around here? Get on with your business! “Chloe, keep that coat on. Don’t catch a cold! Hungry boy, are you hungry again? Come on, let’s head downstairs. I’ll fix you some hot pickled cabbage soup! “And you!” I pointed at the poltergeist.

The killer still hasn't been found. When I saw Jacob's message, a chill ran down my spine. That last call was him, too, so I called him right back. I kept my voice low, the irritation edging through. "Jacob, what the heck are you talking about? Did you forget Edgar already passed away?" His voice came over the line, shaky. "I-it's true. Did you check the apartment residents' group chat? The message was from Edgar!" I hesitated for a beat and told him we'd follow up on WhatsApp, then pulled up the group chat. Out of habit, my phone was on silent, and the group chat was muted. After Jacob's reminder, I saw the message Edgar had sent.

In Silvershade, the pack borders are quiet, too quiet to consider normal. Witches are quietly digging and burying hay dolls around the pack borders. Wanda is quietly chanting a spell to bring those buried dolls to life. Only when the dolls come alive underground will they be able to hold that green wall intact. These are the dolls that would actually trap the souls within the green walls and suck their souls dry. These are the soul creepers whose sole purpose is to drain the vitality of the living. The stronger the living being, the greater their vitality.

Austin asked, almost not believing what she said "How is you seeing me possible?" She asked, and he rolled his eyes, knowing she made a point. "With everything that happened. Starting with me trying to go back to Boston, then realising I'm a ghost. I went back there and jumped into that empty grave, Trying to kill myself"

I then took a drink of the noodle broth. Not bad for a commoner's food. "The eggs are too funny. " You just threw it into the pot," Niel replied, and I laughed. "I did put it directly into the pot. That is, by the way, the orphanage children's favorite snack." She then smiled at us warmly, and my heart skipped a beat. I gaze at my twin, who is still staring at Runo. Maybe she threw something on the noodles? Is it like a magic potion or something? What the hell am I feeling? Is this for real?

As I delve deeper into the file, my heart sinks at the sight of stamps bearing the word 'dead' imprinted on the images of people who died in their partial werewolf form; claws out, teeth out, hairy body. With each turn of the page, my nausea mounts, causing my hands to tremble uncontrollably. Though these faces are strangers to me, their death twists a painful knot in my gut and fills me with a shaking sense of sorrow. The disease Gavin mentions surpasses anything that I could have imagined. Suddenly footsteps approach, distant at first before rapidly growing closer. My heart hammers and I'm sent into a frenzy of panic. Shit. Shit. Dimitri was supposed to hold them for five minutes but I'm p

Hayley folded her arms ready to listen to what her friend had to say. “I feel like those memories were taken away from me. Mr. Hagen was murdered, but I can't just tell what exactly happened because I can't remember. Yesterday I had to force myself to make some research about the histories of Weston Hills.” Wendy said, narrowing her eyebrow to Hayley and then to Marcus. “If I may ask, what did you find?” Hayley interrupted raising her hands. “Well, my research told me about supernatural creatures that inhabited Weston Hills fifteen to thirty years ago.”

And find out if there was any way to fix it. As she drove, Caitlin thought again of the rare books she had found in her library. Most of all, she that of that one rare volume, and its torn page. She thought of its ancient ceremony, the one in Latin, with its cure for vampirism. She wondered again if it was real. Was that just passed down from folklore? An old wives’ tale?

*]:pointer-events-auto scroll-mt-[calc(var(--header-height)+min(200px,max(70px,20svh)))]" dir="auto" data-turn-id="request-WEB:9d2a95f0-b91a-4650-b8f9-e305f424205a-4" data-testid="conversation-turn-10" data-scroll-anchor="true" data-turn="assistant"> Morning came, but it brought no comfort. Emma hadn’t slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the messages again, the painted warning, the carved accusation, the photograph that should not have existed. The memory of that distorted voice lingered in her mind, sending chills through her body.

So Polly too had had a freaky supernatural experience,because that was definitely where this story was leading. “What did she see?”Beth asked softly,both scared and intrigued to hear the answer. “She saw her,”Ethan said,motioning towards the portrait,”aimlessly walking about and finally vanishing at the top of the stairs.” “Ethan,are you pulling my leg?”Beth asked in a mock serious tone.”Ghost stories scare the living daylights out of me.” Ethan pulled her into a full embrace,burying his face in her hair.It felt so good being in his arms,feeling safe and wanted.