Creepypasta Stories

Laura

I'm a horrible person, and I deserve this, I know I do.
I'm not suicidal, I never have been, and I don't want to die.
So please, just hear me out.
Recently, -well, over the last few years if you'd call that recent- things have been happening. Bad things.
It started out small, amongst my friend group and I, and we'd made a joke out of it at first. A few missing pets here, a few lost jobs there, and you can't forget the way we seemed to eat through electronics, the damn things always screwing up at the worst times. It was just fact now, that we had the 'worst luck known to mankind' in Emily's own words.
Emily, I'm so sorry, I'll never be able to apologise enough.
You see, it all started after collage, and now that we're older...things are getting worse.
Susan, may she rest in peace, lost her baby and became depressed. We tried to help her the best we could, but other things just kept happening, and by the time we realized what'd happened, it was too late.
Joey, well, his wife had a breakdown apparently, and shot their neighbour before going after him. He got away, but before the police could subdue her, she managed to take out his left knee. He'll never walk without help of crutches or a cane again.
And Emily, poor Emily had an accident that left her almost unidentifiable. Her 3 year old, Tomas, had disappeared the next day.
That was just the start of it.
Eddy, my old on-again off-again boyfriend, turned up in dead in his car. It would have just been tragic, but then I had to go identify the body.
I'll never forget it, never.
He was...mangled, for lack of a better term. His torso was shredded, his fingers bloodied and ripped to pieces from catching on his own broken ribs. Apparently, he'd had a breakdown on the side of the road, pulling over and just...digging into himself. He'd managed to get more out than they could fit back in, before turning his hands to his face and gouging his own eyes from his skull. I was spared most of the details, but the coroner was new, and apparently liked to talk.
They still hadn't found his eyes, an animal more than likely having run off with them.
What scared me most though, was the fact that his death, Eddy's death, was an almost perfect mirror to Susan's, whom we'd assumed did it out of some twisted sense of shame and depression after losing her baby.
It isn't a joke anymore. It isn't a strange series of coincidences to be laughed at, or mockingly told to anyone we were thinking of adding to our little friend circle.
It's real, it's tangible, and I can just feel it whenever I look at my friends, hovering over us like a bad smell that just won't go away. It's like...well, we all have that one person we know that just seems off. Just doesn't seem right?
It's like that.
But at the same time, it's not, because there's no one there, no reason behind the feeling.
Or, I didn't think there was until a few weeks ago when Joey confided in me.
'We did something terrible,' he'd told me that day, mumbling into one of his many drinks that night. 'We did something terrible and now we're paying for it.'
He'd been drunk of course, and I couldn't blame him for it even if it was becoming a bit of a problem. He had every right to drown his sorrows, and if he wanted to vent, who was I to say no?
On and on he went, talking about our old days back home, our school years and all the tests we used to cheat on. All the day's we'd just skip and do other things.
The drugs.
The alcohol.
Everything.
And then, then he mentioned her.
'We killed her you know. You, Emily, Susan and me. We're the ones that told her we'd meet her there, and fuck, if I could take it back and just tell her to stay home that night, I would.'
I'd known who he was talking about, of course I did, but for the life of me I couldn't recall her name. Hell, at this point, I don't think he could either.
You see, back in our first year of college, we weren't exactly the...well, we were nice. We were kind, and friendly, but there was just something about the kid that rubbed us the wrong way. It could have been the way she dressed, or those stupid glasses she had to wear, hell- it could have just been how unbelievably kind she was.
Kind, but so off putting.
It was just...something about her, something that always had my hair on end when she sat down to help us rush the last of our overdue assignments.
They'd all felt the same, but we were kind, and we didn't want to ignore her attempts to help us out with things. I mean, who turned down someone who offered to tell you the answers to last night's homework?
It was just meant to be a joke, it honestly was, and we were going to give her a call and tell her we were kidding and there was nothing wrong. But...things came up, and next we heard, she was found dead inside that old house we used to hang out in.
The one we'd called her and told her to come too.
'But Emily, her dad was a cop remember? Fuck, when she told him it was us who sent her there, he near had a breakdown. Flipped his shit and cut off her college fund, remember?' I shouldn't have let him drink that much, I really shouldn't have.
But I was distracted.
I was guilty.
I still am.
And before he left that night, he told me something. He'd looked so panicked as I went to leave, leaning over to whisper, or try to anyway.
'I still see her you know. She-she's always there. Always fucking there, and I just keep looking damn it!'
That was months ago.
And ever since that night, I've just...
It started out small, just like with the bad luck.
Footprints in my driveway after the snow had fallen overnight, scratches on the ground outside my back gate.
Just small things.
Simple things.
But they'd still scared the shit out of me at the time.
After the footprints, came the figure. Well, not really a figure. Have you ever shaken your head from side to side really fast, and then sworn you saw something out of the corner of your eye while doing it? It was like that.
I'd be walking around the house, or be at work typing something up, and then I'd get this itch. This feeling, like I was being watched.
And then I'd see it, but only for a fraction of a second.
It used to just be this dark shape I'd catch a glimpse of out the window, but then...
Then I forgot to lock my back gate one night.
I didn't notice anything different until the next morning when I went to go drive to work. The footprints, that I was now a little used to, walked right into my back yard.
Yeah, I freaked out and called the police, but all they did was assure me everything was fine and they'd send someone to drive by the next night.
A lot of good that did.
I kept seeing it out of the corner of my eye, looking so in place with its surroundings that I had to ponder just how many times I'd written it off as a piece of furniture or something.
It was a little chilling to think about, but I'd just known something was there. But exactly how long had it been following me? It was only after Joey creeped me out that night that I got a little jumpy and took notice.
And Joey...
Joey was dead.
Found dead in his home, the doors all open for the world to come in and say hello even though it was the middle of winter and his heating had never been the best.
Yeah, I bet you can just guess what state his body was in when they found him. I'll give you a hint- Guts ripped open, and eyes missing.
I'm...it's my fault. It really is. If I'd known now that this thing...that this would happen, I never would have made that call.
I'm guilty of that, but I don't want to die.
I've never wanted to die.
After Joey...well, I had trouble sleeping, and my family were beginning to notice my paranoia. My sister, as loving as she is, came to visit me often, insisting that I get help.
What help? Who could help me? No one.
No one could help me, not with that thing at my back door every night, just begging me to unlock it.
My sister, she wanted what was best for me, she always had, but she just didn't understand.
She hadn't seen it.
I had.
I'd seen it, I'd peaked out of my window one night and glimpsed it.
Just standing there in the shadows, just watching me as she always used to do.
Short, still with that baby fat clinging to her cheeks, still with those god awful glasses perched on the end on her nose, although broken now.
But the blood...all the blood, and the cuts and the way she smiled with that mouth full of fucking razors...her eyes, they sent me screaming and cowering back to my room, on the phone hysterically calling my mother.
I was admitted the next morning and stayed under observation for the next week.
When I left to come home I was significantly calmer, be it the medication, or the fact that I hadn't seen her- it, since I got there.
I was much too calm actually, it was more than likely the drugs they pumped me full of.
It was the drugs that had me forgetting to lock my back door that night too.
I didn't notice her disappearance from my backyard at first, believing she was just a delusion, and the pills were helping me out. I'd been stressed, my mind overreacting to small things because of it.
I almost forgot.
Then I started noticing the blood on my bedroom door, or to be more specific, the door handle.
I...I don't have a lock on my door, I've never needed one before, and it's in here now.
It's in here and I can feel it, I can feel it watching me. It's here, just waiting for me to look, waiting for me to forget again and just look. I swear sometimes I can feel her breath on my neck, hear her pleading for my attention.
It's the little noises that give her away, you know? The ones that just...aren't right. If I pay attention, I can see her outline when I lay down to sleep, just...watching me. I can smell her, I can always smell her- the blood and the gore and the fucking eyes she has hanging from her belt- I can smell them. Everywhere I go.

We made this thing, what we did...it caused this to happen. And I can hear it whispering still, I can just sense it moving, feel its eyes on me as it tries to get me to just look...
I don't want to die.
I deserve this, I know I do, but I don't want to die.
Laura, I'm so sorry.

Original Author: StomeMedusa