Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25326117-20150402025604

(I don't know if I had posted this, but what do you guys think I should do with this?)

Clarifying Things: It's Your Fault Creepypasta

I've seen many things on my travels throughout this crowded, desolate world. I've seen things none of you, 'humans' can ever comprehend. My birth and my death, much less my existence isn't known to any of you evolved primates. I wasn't cursed with a body of flesh and bone like you apes were. And, I am fortunate enough to be void of the chemical imbalances that plague you.

I will only tell you of the images I've seen through my travels throughout this world. The other worlds are not to be known by mere mortals. Now, lean back and let me touch your forehead, it won't hurt much. "AH!" you screamed as I push my ghostly hand through your skull.

"You have to take this pain.  I will not suffer your trifles," I replied as your gray eyes rolled to the back of your head to only be replaced with blood-shot veins that ran along the whites of your soulless gateways.

Your jaw hangs open and your disgusting drool drips all over my new brown khakis that I just bought. The sooner I can get my job over with, the better. I am lucky that my powers allow me to make you unconscious, because I'd rather see one of you dead than alive. However, I'm not allowed to kill, just torture you. You'll take care of that later, you always do.

My ebony form slithers down your horrid mouth. There's so much saliva and mucus; you're breath smells bad. My two breasts, which you humans mock as skulls bite onto your bloody, pumping heart and the transfer of oxygen slows.

The images I will show you. I cannot take them back, because my time is limited.

My 'skulls' bite on your heart and a loud yelp utters from your vocal cords. I just roll my own pair of several eyes. Now for you to see.

IMAGE ONE

You're twelve-years-old and babysitting your little brother, David. He and you go to the purple swings. He sits on the black, leathery seat while you twist the chains of his swing around in circles. He gets up as you commanded him and you duck your huge head through the narrow opening between the twisted chains and black seat. You shimmy the rest of your body until your stomach lies on the black seat. "David, can you move?  I don't want to kick you?" you ask in a polite voice.

Your little brother nods his head and inches away.

You lift your gigantic tennis shoes that harbor your humongous, tanned feet off the pine mulch. You spin around until the twisted chains come undone. There you see him. The teenager that you call Ron. You push yourself up and look at him. And, he looks at you before gesturing for you to come into the dense forest with him.

This is the third time you've seen this fool. You two embrace and lap your plump, red lips together. You say to him, "I think I am ready.  Make me an adult."

He gingerly smiles as he pulls down his pants and shows off his genitals. You're surprised by this, of course you would be. You don't know what he intends to do to you, yet you follow his despicable deed and take off your own trousers.

He sees your own penis, oh I am about to throw up.

The two of you go into each other. I am so sick right now.

Your little brother, David comes in and you both instantly pull up your pants. He's already seen, but Ron tells him to go make a wish on the spring in the back of the forest and you two pull down your own pants again. You both lap your lips together and he pushes his thick tongue down your throat. You gag, but somehow seemed to enjoy it.

Your brother stumbles back and screams as he runs out of the thicket of greenery.

You push Ron away, because now you're terrified. You're terrified about the stupidity you just committed. However, I know deep down in your memory of that incident that you just wanted to feel like a man. You don't want David telling your parents. Gosh, your mother already trusted you, but you shamefully let her down.

You finally reached home, but your mom is there with a switch. David cowers behind her apron as she gives you a death glare. You scream and try to run out of the trailer, but that's not possible. Your father already locked the door as he just came in from work.

He wonders why your mother is furious and your younger brother is terrified. However, your mother explains what David told her. "...our son exposed himself to a strange boy..." your mother whispers and your father becomes immediately pale.

He does not know what to do, but to go to the master bedroom and slam the door shut. Your mother tells David to go into his room, which he does. And, you know you are in for one hell of a ride.

Flash forward to several months...

The hell of that awful whooping is now over. I can't believe I had to endure the same pitiful pain you did; my butt is still sore. Once I am out of your head, I'll be feeling this for weeks on end.

Your friend, Lizzie shows up at your door. She and you decide to go bike riding. Your parents allow it, only if you stay away from those cursed woods. You ride around the large neighborhood; never thinking that you'll run into Ron. But, you do.

"Hey...Lizzie,l-let's go back!" you said in a quiet, scared voice.

"Why?" your African-American friend replies.

You don't want to answer, because you're too scared. Too scared, because Ron just saw you. Lizzie watches as you pedal your blue bike all the way home like the dog you are. You throw your bike to the side in the small excuse for a front yard, slam the front door and run to your bedroom.

Your mother and your father are out with friends. David is staying over with his classmate, Tony. And, you are all alone.

Several knocks come at the door and then a loud CRASH. You hear the heavy footsteps of somebody breaking into your mobile home. You know who it is, but why can't you stop hiding under your bed? He knows you're there.

"WHERE DA HELL ARE YOU?!" you hear the voice scream.

He stomps around and you can only flinch. He hears your pathetic shriek and drags you out from underneath the canopy bed. He lifts you by your collar all the way up in the air.

"P-Please, d-don't do this!  I-I'm sorry!" you say through tear-ridden, gray eyes.

"It's too late for sorry, IDIOT!" Ron said as he threw you out of your own, small bedroom window into the harsh downpour.

He jumps after you, but he's already broken your legs from throwing you out of the shattered window. Glass is embedded in your knees and hurts to crawl away. He jumps at you with his knife and slices you open like the rat you are.

SLASH...RIP...TEAR...SLASH...RIP...TEAR

You are getting your just deserts. He rips your clothes off, rapes you and slashes you to pieces with his machete. He stabs you several times in the heart and you screeched like a helpless, injured kitten.

Your parents' car pulls up in the driveway and he finishes you off with a sharp stab through the forehead. He spits on you and makes a quick getaway through the brush. The heavy rain showers on you, maybe now you can understand.

IMAGE ONE IS OVER...

I pulled my hand out of your empty skull. My job is done for right now. I'll see you in Hell. Do you see now?

I have you pinned against a wall of your dreadful abode. Your screams don't work on me, because I learned to be devoid of any emotion. Emotions worked on me in the past, but not anymore. I like seeing you cringe as I let out my dogs on you. And, I shall repeat this once again, "I am not allowed to kill, because you'll do it for me."

"LET GO," you shriek as my hounds held their humanoid palms against your sweaty forehead. Once the second image is relived, I shall give them a treat. Don't ask me what it is, because that's none of your business,scum!

I approach you steadily. My third hound wraps his slimy appendage against that loud mouth of yours. I'll reward Ishael after this is over.

"Come here!" I said to him in my monotone, demanding voice. I loathe that voice, it is so ungentlemanly of me. Oh well, time to get this dreadful job over and done with for tonight anyways.

"My hounds threw you to the hard, cold floor.  Poor dears, I pity that I have to discipline them later."

You try to run, but some of my other canines have you in a choke hold. It won't kill you, but it will be quite agonizing. Just to my liking!

"Now, let's begin!" I said as my forked tongue extends all the way into your disgusting mouth. It phases through your upper jaw, your nasal cavity, and finally up to your skull. It bites down like a hungry wolf and absorbs those memories from your brain.

SECOND IMAGE...

You're now back in your canopy bed. The last image was nothing, but a nightmare. A dream, which you rightfully deserved. Your brother, David and your parents are quietly snoozing in their bedrooms.

Several light bulbs explode. Their glass shatters and nearly cut you, but my loyal companion, Ishael saves you. I can't let you die yet, it's won't set well.

"ISHAEL!" I ordered in a harsh whisper.

You see him vanish and your parents come running to your bedroom. Oh, how quaint! They hollar at you as they see several shards of glass scattered around you. Your mother is horrified to see the cuts and scrapes on you and your father is just demanding an explanation. However, you fail to one.

He stomps up to you and slams you against the wall. His bulky, massive hand slaps against your fragile cheek. And, Your mother quickly calls 911, but not because you're hurt.

Oh no, it's not that simple. In this memory, everything is your fault. Let me clarify things for a moronic mine such as yours. "Everything is your fault!"

Your simple cuts from the glass dissipate from your scrawny, bone frame. They appear on your father, who is now holding his now injured hand on the floor. Blood stains the carpet and your mother screams your name as you find yourself sitting on your knees with a sharp, bloodied butcher knife right next to you.

The sirens go on outside your window, flashes of blue and red everywhere. The cops tear the door off of it's hinges and you are dragged away.

Hellhound iscariot666 (talk)

A few days go by, your parents barely visit you. You are now at the psych ward. Oh how grand!

You were forced to strip down as the techs and doctors examined your hideous corpse. Several procedures are carried out and you are now obligated to wear a white, flimsy hospital gown.

You walk the cold, hospital floors with your ugly bare feet. You go into one of those tiny bedrooms and you find a bed. Uncomfortable as heck, but you somehow manage to fall asleep right away.

An alarm goes off and you are alerted to the sound of several stampeding feet. You flip the sheets off and you are greeted with a large crowd of strangers, some of which happen to be your new roommates. Two of the techs, both gigantic men pull in a thin lady with damp, crimson-red hair back into the ward.

"What's going on?" You asked one of the strangers.

He turns to face you and hushes you with his index finger pointed towards his mouth. "Can't you see what's happen', twit," the stranger demanded.

You kept your loud mouth shut as the woman is dragged and placed into a room, which you don't see. You hear her screams, shrieks and her fists banging against the steel door of her room.

The episode is quickly dispelled as everyone goes about their daily, boring rituals. You did the same, because what else could you have done?

Hellhound iscariot666 (talk) 02:56, April 2, 2015 (UTC)

It has been nearly a month since you arrived here. Your parents and your little brother have hardly come to see you. Perhaps, they are happy that they no longer have to see your wretched face. When they do visit you, maybe the reason why they came is because, they feel sorry for s loser like you. Oh, if only, your mother had aborted you, then your family wouldn't have to suffer your existence.

Hellhound iscariot666 (talk)

You flail in your bed, oh how glorious! I like seeing you squirm.

Ishael is by your bedside, the stupid mutt seems to pity you. Why? It is beyond me. He is just a dumb dog; incapable of disobeying my commands. He once tried to attack me along with those other ungrateful hounds, but I quickly showed them who was boss. You should have seen how numerous times I bludgeoned and decapitated them. They didn't die due to the severity of my treatment, because they are only figments of my own mind.

Ishael creeps up to you. He touches your forehead, but I quickly fling him hand off of you with my invisible hand. He whimpers as he limps to that sorry excuse of a closet you have and your five roommates have. And, your roommates are none the wiser.

I won't allow Ishael to disobey me. He is part of my compassionate side, which I thought died long ago. Sometimes, I wish I didn't have him.

You continue to flail in your sleep.

Hellhound iscariot666 (talk)

You are outside of yourself in the dream. Your father screams for you to stop, but you don't heed his words. Your mother screams as she watches you bury the sharp, butcher's knife into your own father's hairy arm. She hastily dials 911 and the cops take you away in handcuffs.

You are full of tears as they drag your sorry ass away to the hospital. "I'M SORRY!" you yelled over and over again in a somber voice. I know you aren't really sorry.

You are such a sorry excuse for a human being. Oh, why does a monster like you exist? Thank goodness, your family don't visit you so much. Thank goodness, they'll press charges on your sorry ass. Thank goodness, you might wound up in jail.

However, as you lie on your cot in the dank corner of your horrid cell. You recall the moments way before your father's stabbing. You recall your little kitten, Mink. Mink was such an adorable feline, he was only shy of six months.

You went to visit your grandparents in a nearby town. Your father had his boss over that day. Your father's employer didn't want the horrible beast in the house while he went down to business, so he ordered your parents to throw the kitten out.

The kitten wonders into the street and went SPLAT. Blood went everywhere and your father's boss and your parents didn't say a word to you or your baby brother about it.

You screamed when you arrived home. Your brother was fortunate not to see the carcass of the dead kitten, but you did. You were so full of tears and your face was as red as a tomato. You shouted at both your parents, you despicable, little boy!

They gave you life, but yet you had the audacity to scream at them just due to a lousy kitty's death.

Animals die everyday and you should have put him in your room while you and David went away.

Mink was your responsibility, twerp! So, don't dare blame your father, your mother or your father's boss. They had no control over that situation, you did! You are just a horrible person@

You once thought you saw a bunch of cats creep up to you. They all had their claws out and their teeth were showing. You screamed and thought you heard a voice.

"Destroy them!" it said in a quiet whisper.

When the voice went away, all of the cats that you thought were attacking you, were nailed to the walls. Their long, fluffy tails and soft paw pads tangled in impossible positions. Lacerations on their fat bodies and scarlet liquid dripping from those horrifying wounds. Your brother screamed once he came into the room and your mother followed suit.

"WHAT IN THE WORLD DID YOU DO?!"

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!"

Hellhound iscariot666 (talk)

You leaps out of bed and drenched in sweat. Your breathing is irregular and beads of sweat go down your oval-shaped and sickly, pale face.

The nurses and the techs rush in, because one of your roommates ratted you out for disturbing her precious sleep.

"Do you have to shout?!" she yelled irritably as she rubbed the sleep away from her turquoise eyes.

The medical staff gather around you and strap you down.

You screamed, "IT WASN'T MY FAULT!  IT WASN'T MY FAULT!  IT WASN'T MY FAULT, MOM, DAD!" You then proceed to laugh and wail.

Now, it is time for the third image. You can't hide or run from me. I know all your secrets. So, face your pain like a man! By the way, people will eventually find out that your scum!

I've tackled you to your kitchen floor. You shout, "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

However, I won't listen. I am too good for that. And, like I said before, "I have a job to do."

"What job are you talking about?!  I don't want to be your guinea pig anymore!" You yelled as you point those rusty scissor blades at me. However, I can't die by a weak mortal such as yourself.

Your scissors just go through my torso and now you're landed on your stomach and chin on this dirty floor. "I have a job to do, so stop making it hard for me." I shout as I slam your curling fists that try to help you get up. I hold your scalp to the floor and your chin scrapes the dirty concrete. "Now, let the third image commence!"

THIRD IMAGE

You are just eight-years-old and your family just moved from another state. Your mother, your father, and your little brother had to give up everything for you just because you couldn't handle the bullies. Why am I not surprise? That's a rhetorical question, idiot! So, don't answer!

You are unsure about your new school. The hallways are long and terrifying to your puny, developing brain. A girl wearing her gray hair in pigtails shows you to your classroom. She smiles at you and you just slightly blush. "Hi, I'm..." you're about to say before the bell rings and you and the girl hurry to class.

Your grades are rather good and you think you get along well with your classmates. However, that isn't the case. Everybody here hates your guts. Everybody here hates how you try to pretend to be nice, but you're just another self-righteous bully. And, soon, you'll find that out.

Hellhound iscariot666 (talk) 02:56, April 2, 2015 (UTC)

"There he goes, let's get 'em!" one of your classmates scream.

You caused this conflict, because you told your classmate, Doug that you thought he was cute. He kept shouting at you, "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

However, you just get insulted and tell your third grade teacher one side of the story as always. Your classmates, especially Doug glare daggers at you. Why shouldn't they? You ratted one of your friends out. Everybody here hates you!

Everybody here at this deplorable school hates your guts. The teachers, the principal, the hall monitors, and everyone else here just pretends to sympathize for you. If they showed their true colors then the school would be sued. Of course, the teachers, the lunch ladies, and the rest of the faculty cannot afford to be confronted with a lawsuit. They are just barely able to feed themselves, much less their entire families.

You went up to Doug and held his hand like a kindergartner and disgusting, red cheeks. "Everyone, this is my boyfriend!"

Doug's face paled and he snatched his sweaty palm away from yours. That day, it sealed your fate.

The other kids, Doug's friends gathered around you and kicked you right in the chest down the steep, emerald hill. You rolled over yourself until you stopped. The kids ran down to you again and shouted, "HOW'S THIS, PUNK!"

You get kicked right in the cheeks. You just keep crying. You just keep lying, "I just wanted somebody to like me!  I thought Doug and I were friends."

Doug stomps up to you. His pale face is sheer crimson and his eyes, those eyes are just bloodshot. He has his fists balled up and his teeth are clenched. His tennis shoe is about to crash into your bloodied, swollen face. However, he hesitates.

He recalls your alleged friendship. Doug recalls the time that you and your little brother met him at the gate of his backyard. He was playing kickball with the same gray-haired lass, which turned out to be his little sister, Emily. You caught the ball and Doug asked, "Hey, can you throw me the ball?"

You gladly do and the red ball goes over the steel fence. Doug smiles at you and said, "Hey, that was some throw, man!"

You just slightly blush.

"Do you and your little brother want to play with us?" Doug asks, unaware the future trouble you'll cause him.

Your little brother, David is anxious about going over to a stranger's house. He tugs on the hem of your gray jacket, "Hey, big bro, can we ask mom first?"

You nod and then look over to the ledge where Doug and Emily await your answer. You look at them and said in a polite, but nervous tone, "Uh...I have to ask my mom and my dad first."

They understand and you rush through the patio door into your filthy abode. Your mom's cooking Spaghetti and Meatballs in the kitchen and your dad is watching football on the sofa. His legs are bent up as he is lying down with the remote on his hairy belly. You go to him and ask, "Hey dad, David and I made a new friend.  Is it alright if we go visit him?"

Your father is ecstatic about you having a new friend. He called your mother into the living room, told her the news and grudgingly accepted taking over the cooking, because he just lost a tiff with his wife.

Your mother on the other hand is thrilled, but she's upset right now. "Why did you leave David outside by himself again?" she demands in her sweet, but sinister voice.

You look to your side, thinking that your little brother is right next to you. But, he isn't.

You try making up excuses as your mom expects a good answer for your lousy action. "I guess I got distr-"

"WHAH!" you hear a loud, blood-curdling scream.

Your father turns off the stove and you all head out to where the screech came from. You arrive at the scene, but everything isn't as you wanted it to be.

Your brother is lying strait on his back, barely able to move a muscle. He is lying in a puddle of his own red blood. Emily and Doug rush to the scene with the paramedics. They ask as they load your crying, traumatized brother up into the back of the ambulance truck.

Your mom, your dad, Doug and Emily are all lost for words. They can't blame you right now, because David is more important. Your dad drives you, your mom and your new friends to the hospital to visit David. David is lying in a white, hospital bed and wrapped in bandages and casts. Your mother runs up to him and sobs uncontrollably.

"BOY, WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED?!" your father bellows.

You stutter just as usual.

Doug interrupts, "We tried telling him to take his baby brother with him, sir!  But, he wouldn't listen.  He rushed off in a hurry and his baby bro totted into the parking lot.  Emma and me tried screaming for the pipsqueak to stop, but he didn't hear us.  And, it was too late!"

Emily stares at you with disbelief. "Why did you abandon him like that?"

You try making up excuses again, but that only digs you deeper into your sorry grave. "Boy, if David dies from that car hitting him; I hold you responsible!  Got that?!"

You just shy away and look out the hospital window. You are way high up and the people coming in and coming out along with the numerous cars parked, they all look like a bunch of ants. Your little brain thinks about going out the window to be with the birds. You think that flying like Superman will resolve the situation. However, if you were able to get out that window, you would be dead.

Hellhound iscariot666 (talk)

Everything goes white and you're back on the hill. Doug remembers your lack of responsibility for your little brother. Your little brother that had to spend numerous months recovering from numerous surgeries and numerous rehabilitation. "Aren't we friends?" you ask innocently as if that would save you.

He screams and slams his foot into your nose. "NO!  You failed your job as a big brother!  I can't have you as a friend!" 