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No tears please. It's a waste of good suffering.
—Doug Bradley (Pinhead), Hellraiser (1987)

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Journal Entries

My brother was a whopping eleven years older than me, so I don't remember much of when he was still living with us during his college years. I was only thirteen when he moved out. But he was always weird. His self-professed hobby was to watch people. I remember there were times when he would pick me up from school, and, as we drove home in the afternoon sunlight, we would see something like a group of children walking home in their uniforms, and those little mundane scenes--old ladies feeding birds, shops closing down for the day--were heartbreaking to him. He took pictures of seemingly innocuous things. He was very nostalgic about things that had never happened to him.

I distinctly remember that on a weekly basis he would sit in a corner of his cramped room and scribble into an old notebook that he used for school. Sometimes I would ask him what he was drawing or writing. He would of course tell me to leave. He kept it well-hidden when he wasn't writing, because several times during my childhood I looked for it while he wasn't home, and never found it.

I don't remember a whole lot else about my brother. He mostly kept to himself, but was willing to oblige when I asked him to play video games or something with me. He wasn't very much for sports, and he had a small but recurring circle of friends. They were generally as weird as him and Mom didn't like them around the house. But he didn't seem lonely or hurt, he got good marks and generally he appeared satisfied with his life. He was the opposite of my sister (seven years older than me), who has always been socially adaptable, self-confident and outgoing. Read more...
Pasta Noir: Dames, Slugs and the Hatchetman

The downtown night air was crisp and cool with the slight aroma of misery. He never thought that his life would turn out the way it did. The wife, the kid, the pride- all lost along the way. They were lost somewhere in the belly of the big, bad city, where they would never again age, remaining forever young, beautiful and full of grace. He still saw them in everything and everyone.  A Homicide Investigator's life is never something called happily ever after. Everyday Detective Chris Priest woke up, looked up and asked why the fuck he was still around to do it all over again. It was his punishment, you see. His penance was waking up without them, still trying to make a dent of difference in this city on fire.

Staring out his window, he poured a quarter glass of Jim Beam and asked himself in the famous words of The Clash: Should I stay, or should I Rock the Kasbah? The familiar metallic taste of the colt 45 made things real at that moment. It was fear that kept him from biting the bullet. Yet, it was also his lack of fear that kept him afloat another day. It kept him doing what he did best, the only thing he cared about anymore. Fear was for the enemy, fear and bullets.

What little faith he had left hung on like a loose string. One would think Chris would have completely and utterly lost his essence, his humanity… all in a brilliant flash of ‘Fuck You’ dished out by fate. Much had occurred in his life since he swore in and began serving as a rookie Sheriff’s Deputy in Lytle Texas 17 years ago. However, in the midst of all the glory, the coolness and the climbing, Chris had his number 1 with a bullet, Abby. She was firecrackers on the 4th. They drank out of the same bottle, never pulling any punches. They spent their days loving, laughing, living, fucking. (Read more...)

Credited to Blacknumber1
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What is "Creepypasta"?

In short, a creepypasta is a short story posted on the Internet that is designed to unnerve and shock the reader.

This wiki is primarily a database of various creepypasta. The goal is to have a fairly well stocked library of well-written creepypasta, including very obscure and rarely posted, to user-created original content.

First time readers of creepypasta should check out the Suggested Reading to become familiar with some of the more well-known and widely-referenced creepypastas.

Sorry, we no longer accept spinoffs or fan sequels of existing pastas to be directly uploaded to this wiki, unless you wrote the original story yourself. We are also no longer accepting Minecraft, Holders series, Pokémon, Zelda, or "haunted file/game" pastas.

Otherwise, get started by either going to the Genre Listing, image galleries, or by looking at a list of existing stories.

You can post your original content and then have it reviewed by the community later on; either on here or via the Writer's Workshop.

However, remember that over all things, we're a literature wikia. As such, we need to uphold certain quality standards. Please read our Quality Standards before submitting a story. If your story gets deleted, please read this thread, and use the pages linked in it. An Administrator will reply to your query as soon as possible.

The rights to all content posted here belong to the writers. Please do not attempt to use the stories in this wiki for your own personal profit. This wiki is non-profit and all stories are posted here for personal enjoyment. If your writing appears here and you wish to have it removed, please email clericofmadness@live.com or message an admin directly.

If you wish to appeal a ban, first contact the blocking admin via their talk page. Email the address above in the event an admin cannot be reached in a reasonable amount of time. Don't forget to read the rules before you contribute!

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