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For the latter half of my childhood, I lived in a small town called Burnsley in North East England, emigrating from London for a more peaceful lifestyle. Life was good, I made friends at school, my dad started managing a local butchers and nothing really bad happened often. However, one day at school, I got confronted by three bullies from Year 8, the year above me. They tried to pick me up and shove me in a bin nearby, but a teacher stopped them. I simply dismissed it as them showing Year 7’s dominance, but then it happened more and more and started getting more frequent as the year progressed. I was getting bruises left, right and centre. One time the oldest one cut my lip with a punch to the face. This bullying carried on into the next year.
In the year later, seemingly out of nowhere, I started hearing rumours of livestock dying from local farms, particularly one where my dad’s business gets his cattle from. The corpses appeared to be mangled beyond recognition. My family dismissed it as wolves but I felt slightly weirded out by it all. A month later and a whole wheat farm and the house on the property burned to the ground. The farm was attacked again, my dad was pissed off insanely. The bullying got worse and I found myself struggling to sleep at night, my grades dropped significantly and an incident with a meat cleaver due to drowsiness left my hand gushing blood. I was losing my mind.
Then it happened. One lonely night I was studying hard after school, desperately trying to improve my grades. When I finally left the desolate school at 9 PM, I spotted the same bullies that tormented me the year before, smoking against a wall. Thinking quickly, I ducked into a nearby wheat field and made my way carefully through the rows. That was when I heard running behind me and was knocked unconscious.
When I awoke, the three bullies were standing around me, giving me a mocking look. The oldest picked me up by the collar and slammed me up into a wall. “What are you doing out here when it’s past your bedtime on your own, you stupid twat?” he jeered. I tried to resist, but he quickly equipped a knife out of his pocket. “So you don’t have to get punished by your parents when you get home, I will do it for you,” he said. I closed my eyes, and I heard a strange growl. When I opened them, the bully at the back was gone. The oldest one still held me with one hand and was turned around staring the other one in the eye with I assume a confused expression. All of a sudden, this ‘thing’ appeared out of the sky and soared down, wings open, picked the other one up and took flight again.
The oldest bully got terrified and ran off, releasing me from his grip. I quickly hid behind a stable wall and watched what was about to happen next. The ‘thing’ obviously wasn’t intent on letting him get away, and swooped down, grabbed him and took off far away into the night. As soon as it was out of sight, I ran off through the wheat fields and to my house.
The bodies were found in an abandoned slaughterhouse a year later, stripped from flesh right down to the bone. The next night, the creature came to me in my dreams. I couldn’t take it any more. I convinced my family to move.
We relocated to a small town in the South West. One fateful day, I got a letter through the postbox. What it said will haunt me forever:
“Remember what I did for you back in Burnsley?”
We are trapped within the darkest holes of our mind. We can’t wait to be free.
My name is Jason Beckett. I’m a 17 year-old senior and the only child of Julie and Ryan Beckett. My family is an “on the road” kind of family due to constant job openings given to my father. My father became a pharmacist at the local CVS. Mom just stays at home while my dad is away. Due to my family constantly moving I never really made friends nor do I plan on making any. It’s not like I ever needed any friends.
We moved to 15 Windham Avenue in an aqua blue house in Mandan, North Dakota. It’s not much like the other houses with their fancy lawns and house decorations. I could care less what anyone thinks about us. If we’re poor, rich, middle class… we all leave anyway.
When I was a child I got into a huge fight with three teenagers who, to what I thought, were trying to kill me. I don’t know why they wanted me dead, maybe it’s because they were in a gang? It was in the middle of the street and the fight was more of me protecting myself after being threatened by them and sworn at. I was shoved backwards and I began to lose my balance. I fell and landed head first onto the sidewalk pavement.
As I lay there bleeding from my skull, everything began to fade. I noticed the three teenagers rush over to me and as I did I saw someone behind them… then I blacked out. When Mom and Dad found me on the floor bleeding out I was rushed to the emergency room where I was given a full body CAT scan. I asked mom what happened to those kids who attacked me… she told me that I was too young to hear, but something “unfortunate” had happened to them.
After the CAT scan was complete, doctors noticed something peculiar and irregular happening in my brain. They said something about my “Limbic System”, the area involving my emotions. I was asked if I hate those boys who attacked me with which I calmly replied with “no, what’s hate? If it’s something bad then no, I don’t hate them for what they did to me. They concluded that I had a rare, maybe new, form of “Psychopathic Personality Disorder” that didn’t allow me to “hate” anyone or anything.
They were fairly surprised as they didn’t know what this meant or what it was causing this since it’s weird that it would target one specific emotion. They told my parents that they shouldn’t be afraid because it only targeted “hate” which could be considered a really good thing. It was just a feeling that will never be introduced to me because of this unknown problem. But I do know that because of this same benefit from my “problem”, not being able to hate others and stay cool headed, there was also a drawback.
Every night I have reoccurring dreams. It’s a dark, almost empty pitch black world that I am thrown into. It always feels like I have never been here although I always have these dreams every night. There is someone… standing in the darkness, unmoving. I could tell there is someone there in this pitch black abyss because although everything is dark… that person was always darker.
Not even the textbook definition can fully explain how this being can even be seen. As if there is no light able to reach this mysterious person but through my presence he is as visible as a sunflower in the middle of a rose field. In these “dreams” it would always just stand there in this abyss, silent and still. It’s always in my dreams… well I say dreams because nothing bad ever really happens. Regardless, it’s an ominous vision.
Pops enrolled me into Mandan High School. I’m a senior so there really isn’t much going for my senior graduation as I share no special bond with these strangers. I usually keep to myself. I got dressed in my jean pants, red plaid shirt, and beanie hat. I grabbed my bag which only had 1 drawing note book, 5 lead pencils (Since I like to draw on my spare time), 3 notebooks, and a textbook involving the human mind that I stole from my dad.
My dad has a fascination for my psychological problem but it doesn’t bother me. I waited at my bus stop and boarded the bus. I was the new kid in town so naturally everyone just stared at me for the couple seconds I got on the bus and sat down. Then they returned back to their daily activities. They were gossiping, texting, talking, and reading like most teens do. I got to school, received my schedule from my school counselor, and headed to my first period class.
Psychology class, who would have guessed I was put in there. The teacher handed out those written on and worn out textbooks but I refused when one was handed to me. I had my fathers’ text book and viewed it more advanced and efficient than the ones offered by this school. “Infinity of the Human Mind” was the name of my… well his textbook.
It gave a lot of information regarding human emotions, knowledge, brain growth, human reactions. But, as the class started I had the urge to just take out my drawing notebook and a lead pencil. I began to draw, but I didn’t know what I was drawing… I… I just drew instinctively. As I drew, I grew tired and began to yawn. I was slowly starting to fall asleep and then knocked out unconsciously on top of my drawing notebook 25 minutes into class.
I was having the dream again. I was in the same dark place with only me and “that” person standing there. I always wondered if it had a face, but every time I got closer… it got farther. As if he, she, or it didn’t want me close. But this one was different, this manifestation of utter darkness did not move when I got closer.
I slowly walked towards it and when I got to as close as skin contact… I woke up. It was 5 minutes before class ended and I was drooling on my notebook. It was closed shut and my lead pencil was no longer in my hand, but placed on top of my notebook. The lead pencil looked worn out as the eraser was completely gone and the tip seemed burnt from use.
I shook the lead pencil and I heard nothing, nothing at all. All the lead was gone. Maybe someone stole all the lead? I didn’t know or care. I could always just get more. Everyone around me was just socializing or listening to music and here I am… sleepy and confused. I wonder what I was drawing before I slept, maybe I finished it.
I grabbed my notebook and flipped through the pages to notice that all the pages I’ve been flipping through so far have been empty. I was sure that when I began to draw, it was on the very first page. I would never start anywhere but the first page of a new notebook. Once I reached the last page I dropped my notebook.
My eyes widened from a sleepy gaze to that of a frightened child. It was that person, in that empty world. But… there was a white spot in the middle of where his face would be. Almost as if his/her/or its face was beginning to emerge from the shadows. The bell rang and psychology class was over. I quickly snapped out of it and slammed the notebook shut and continued to my next class. The image still burned into my psyche and pulsating strangely as if it’s something I miss, want, need, but I can’t have.
The school day was over and I no longer felt drowsy and sleepy. I headed home and that was that, nothing else happened. I told my parents, when I arrived home, what had happened to me at school and what I saw. My mom told me that it was probably just my imagination getting the best of me, my father, on the other hand, thought differently. He had me re-explain in detail what I had seen and he took notes. Shortly after the extensive questioning he walked towards the phone and dialed a number.
I can’t clearly remember what he had been saying, “I think it might… again… limbic system… the three kids… today…”
I didn’t stick around and just headed to my room since it was already 10 P.M. by the time he finished his constant questioning. As I headed to bed I questioned if I would really have that dream again after that whole ordeal at school. I always have these dreams as if they were a daily routine, well they are, to me.
So I just decided to shut my eyes… and fall asleep. Strangely enough, I didn’t have “that” dream again like every other night. Instead, I woke up… having no dream or consciousness of what I dreamed about. It was as if I closed my eyes and then opened them to the dawn of tomorrow. To be honest, I was relieved strangely. I felt like my life was going to take a turn for the better and things would finally change.
Two months had passed since what happened in psychology class and I still don’t have any dreams that relate to that event or in general. I’ve already read my dad’s book five times and learned a lot from it. One part in particular always caught my attention, “The physiology of emotion is closely linked to arousal of the nervous system with various states and strengths of arousal relating, apparently, to particular emotions.
Although those acting primarily on emotion may seem as if they are not thinking, cognition is an important aspect of emotion, particularly the interpretation of events.” Emotions are aroused in relations to certain events… Interesting. Regardless, I waited at my bus stop as usual. The same sunny yellow bus came driving by and stopped to pick me up.
I boarded the bus and sat down, unfortunately next to Zack. Zack is the senior jock who has a tendency of over-showing his dominance on others. I was no exception, he immediately told me to screw off and sit somewhere else. But there was nowhere else to go and in no condition am I getting off.
I told him to “deal with it and stop being such a meat head.” He glared me down as if he has every motive to forcefully kick me off the bus. He shoved me off the seat… I immediately got up to plant myself back on the seat. He shoved me off again and cursed my name for the entire bus to hear. All eyes were on me, I didn’t know what to do or say.
Suddenly, something rushed into me… something… weird… evil… angry… I rushed off of the bus floor and punched Zack straight in the face, seeming as if I had broken his nose. The impact was so strong that his head whiplashed on the glass of the bus window causing a crack to emerge. Zack’s dirty blonde hair and red sports jacket plummeting onto the leather green seat. He was unconscious… I didn’t know what I had done, but I felt glad that I did it.
I turned to see everyone staring at me and then I froze. I was completely petrified and in total shock from who I saw standing amongst the crowd. This “Thing” was standing right by the bus driver before the driver got up to rush to Zack and me. It seemed like more of its face was manifesting from what has happened. The skin was pale white and only appeared on 1/4 of where its face should be. 1 Black empty hole was where its eye should be and in the center of this hole… a crimson red dot just faintly glowing.
Before I could even scream I was pushed and pinned down by the bus driver. I was never the same after what happened that day… just when I thought things would be different. I slipped out of consciousness… and into “its” world.
I’m no longer referring it as my dream world, but a dark world where “it” inhabits it and forever haunts me mentally and now in reality. It stood there again… in this abyss. Its faintly glowing eye pinned straight on me. I don’t know what it wanted but I was angry for the fact that I had no control over anything.
It was that entire things fault, all of it. Every last ounce of what caused this or what has happened to me in my life, all the bad things… its fault. As I kept rummaging through all of these events being blamed towards it… a skin-like mask began growing on its face.
A second eye emerged from that being. Both eyes are now fixated onto me and it began to slowly move towards me. It was striding from left to right as if it has no sense of direction and as it headed towards me its head twisted and shook violently every step it took. All I knew was that I didn’t want it near me.
But no matter what I did, my feet were planted firmly into the darkness. I couldn’t scream or raise my voice high enough for anyone to hear, just a small shrewd whisper calling out for help as if it was all that my body could allow. It was now in arm’s length of my face… it leaned over and directed its eyes straight at mines…and then there was a blood-curdling scream… I woke up.
I was in a hospital bed covered in snow-white sheets and thin wires strapped onto my head. My head was hurting and throbbing a lot. I was in a solitary room surrounded by 1-way glass windows. I can’t see what was happening outside, but whoever was behind those windows could see me. I felt like a hamster in its cage. Was I being observed and experimented on while I was unconscious? How long have I been unconscious? My head hurts… what have they done to me? All these thoughts made me angry… just… angry.
Two doctors and three guards entered through a nearly camouflaged glass door. I asked them who they are and what they wanted. They ignored me. Instead, those three guards pinned me down onto the hospital bed while one of the doctors came towards me with a syringe. Are they trying to sedate me? Why are they doing this to me?
I was scared… then this same strange feeling rushed into me again and in that very same rush… I saw the reflections of “it” on all of the 1 way glass windows… Standing there and mocking me. They all were mocking me and they all had those same faintly glowing crimson dot eyes. I broke free from the three men and lunged for the syringe the doctor was grasping. Before he could even react I snatched it from his hand and pierced the needle into his neck close to his jugular. He landed on the floor with a loud thud and the three guards and other doctor froze in their tracks. What are they looking at? What did I just do?
Blood began to seep out of the punctured neck wound of the collapsed doctor. Did I do that? My hands began to shake and I began to chuckle. I couldn’t have… it was “it’s” fault. I moved and faced the 1-way window to see my reflection only to be greeted by those same faintly glowing crimson eyes. I was rushed with this same strange and foreign feeling again and I quickly struck the wall with my fist. Just punching and punching in hopes of it going away. Cracks appeared but no matter what I did, its eyes were always fixated on me.
I stopped the assault on the window as I heard the opening of the glass door and a rush of footsteps quickly following. The color in my vision turned into a darker hue. The white-tiled floor my feet were planted on was now dark and grey and the same casual hospital bed and its white fabric sheets were tainted with the very same darkness.
My reality was now “its” reality and as I slowly turned my head… everyone became “It” in my eyes. The only thing that was slightly normal was me in my reflection except I began to turn into that shadow. The same white pale skin began to emerge on my face and I grew those same horrendous, ominous red eyes.
I re-faced everyone who entered the room who now took the form of the very being that had haunted me ever since I was young. I walked toward them and as I did I heard the noise of tranquilizers being fired. I slowly began to fall asleep but I kept pacing towards them till I was in arms reach of one of them. I reached out with my arm and clutched one of their shirts…
“I… hate… you.”
These two stories about both creepypasta stories
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