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Creepypasta: ParasiticCrepypasta: Parasitic
Have you ever tasted human blood or flesh? Of course you have, even if you didn’t really think much of it at the time. Maybe you just bit your lip and inadvertently swallowed, even if you’re not a full-fledged professional cannibal like me. But you see, already I can tell you’re not too different from me because of that. I assume you know your name, but me? My name is Eyeless Jack, and I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.
When was the first time you realized you were a parasite? No, don’t give me that look. Your hands are tied at the moment, if you’ll excuse the pun, so you’re really in no position to view me with contempt. And it’s just the two of us, in this big, quiet house. The rest of your family? Just tell yourself that everyone else is taking a rest, a nice long rest. I have a friend who’d make a bad joke about “going to sleep” right about now, which is one of the reasons I prefer to m
Of Demons and PoltergeistsA black silhouette stood in front of the all-consuming conflagration, watching blissfully as the smoke stained the stars out of existence. A low chuckle rose in the pyromaniac's throat, a terrifying noise that built to a crescendo as she bent over double, the golden Glasgow grin on her mask echoing the laughter coming from her mouth. The trees around her burned as stood there laughing, creating more of the horrendous destruction the woman's twisted mind deemed 'artwork'. Her gleeful sounds faded as she regained composure, slinging the half-empty can of gasoline onto her back before Erika Shen began walking from her newest masterpiece; a house, filled with visiting families for a reunion, burned to the ground with no possible chance of escaping. The schizophrenic psychopath stalked past several trees marked with the accursed symbol she so despised. The infamous axe murderer named after the Roman Goddess of the Dawn stood before a great, leafless tree. She snickered, pouring the remainin
Rainbows and Zombies It was a bright sunny day in the City of Color River. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. The mood at Color Wind High School was cheerful and excited; for the first semester has just started. But not everyone was in a cheerful mood.
At the side of the private school, on the winding stair cases that had stops every ten steps, there was a boy. An 18 year old boy with green hair and green eyes leaned forward on the rails in the second to the top break. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a dark green sleeveless, thin jacket. He was also wearing blue jeans and dark green shoes. His elbow was resting on the rail, and his fist was pressed against the left side of his face. There was a sad expression on his face. He was sad, depressed, and heartbroken.
He let out a sad sigh. Then a girl who looked to be the same age came up the stairs and walked next to him. She had brig
autoportret..cine esti..si de unde vii tu..?
si m-am nascut din matasea aprinsa
a nemuririi mele..
inima mea..este o vesnica rebela..
inca de la inceputul creatiei..
sunt maestra propriei mele forte..
si detinatoarea marelui secret..
al lui dumnezeu..
care a crescut tremurand pe un deal inghetat..
..si locuiesc in oaza de lumina..
intr-o lume dincolo de lumea ta..
unde stelele se holbeaza la forta mea..
iar iadul tremura in pumnul meu..
noaptea se teme de durerea mea..
iar dimineata impietrita..
isi culca suspinul pe a mea perna..
am imblanzit supliciul..
si am cucerit infernul..
..si l-am lasat liber prin venele mele..
am tesut imagini din lacrimi de sange..
si am spalat cu ele dorul greu..
am sfasiat infinitul in o mie de bucati..!!!!
si i-am dat drumul prin mine..
si atomii mei ti-i arunc in suflet..
tu ii imbratisezi ingrozit..
vazand prin ei..bezna din lumina mea..
si ii culci in camera din inima ta..
si ii speli de noroi..si ii cureti de spini..
Ama shelnev, Hemlekh shelnevYou were once a Queen.
It is a reminder that Corydon gives her often. A reminder that she did not begin as they did. Hers was a different beginning, a different birth, a different origin. She has always been set apart and he reminds her often that she is not from the same place as the rest of them.
The reminder comes most often when she lowers herself to dirty her hands for them, when she takes the blame for something she need not, and most especially when she bows the whim or pressure of one he deems to be beneath her. Mostly, the reminder comes when he is insulted on her behalf for how they treat her.
I was so stunned by who you were, that I think I gave away more of myself than I meant to....
The memory of his admission made her smile. Then again, so much of what he had said made her smile to remember it. He spoke of how he was taught that it is his responsibility to care for those who were his. He spoke of serfs and servants without the lowering of his voice that so m
The HuntThe kill was fresh and the hunt had begun anew. The hunter was on the prowl once more; the mighty stalker began by silently scouting the room. He felt the fear of his prey, the warmth of their presence. The primal urges convulsed in his veins, strengthening him. He slowly crept through the rafters, quickly enough to keep up with his prey, and quietly enough for his prey to be unaware. The constant pounding in his head kept him motivated, and the shadows writhed about him. No longer was he human, as being contained in a laboratory for twelve years had changed him.
But something else swirled through his veins, something inhuman, something that was never meant to be. He remembered it all, the test procedures and serums, the cruel testing and the white garbs of the scientists. But now he was free, and nobody would be able to stop him from taking his revenge. His prey was on the move once more, the white jacket drifting behind him. The hunter grinned with delight, and began to move swiftly
The Crimson Duke, Part 2So far, I've actually accomplished quite a lot. I've had to kill a few people to get the information I needed, but that doesn't matter. I guess none of it does.
I'm a wanted man now. Not that I'm a guy, but, you know.
There is really nothing much else to do.
I got up from the smoking fire, deciding that it was time to call it quits. The fire was dying anyway. But something about it caught my attention, by chance. the smoke wasn't black or gray, it had this odd little tint to it, like a dusky kind of red, mixed with brown.
I looked closer. I didn't see anything else of any supposed importance.
And when the plastic explosive went off, I didn't even feel it.
PoliteMy parents trusted in the small town dynamics we had going. My town had about 40,000 people. We lived sprawled across huge lots, with neighbors that were always willing to lend a hand. So they did not expect too much trouble when they left for the week.
My cousin Toni was watching me. She was 21 and rather irresponsible. She left me home alone for most of the week while my parents soaked up the rays in Hawaii. Her version of watching me was to check in every few days and take me to the store as needed. She told me to have fun.
She taught me to drive a stick shift when I was 14. I really loved her.
I heard the scraping in the lock around 2am, I thought it was Toni. I had the windows open upstairs because of the dry heat and I could hear the sound of metal scraping against the lock. I thought she might be drunk, so I went downstairs and looked through the pained glass window.
The face that looked back was not that of a young adult, but a man in his late 30s. He looked at me for a moment
Cry of the JackalsCry of the Jackals
Those who have traversed the Sahara along the Egyptian stretch and wandered through the Valley of Kings might have chanced to hear the occasional cries of jackals. They sometimes hang out near the doors of the tombs. When this writer was at the nearest resort, a traveler such as I mentioned arrived and told me and a few others that he had seen or heard a clutch of jackals at a particular tomb. Naturally, someone inquired,
"Which tomb was it? Akhenaten? Ramses?"
"I am not really sure," he replied, nervously. "Neither did I see a marking nor did my guide know."
An unmarked tomb. An unknown mummy. Something very strange was going on out there. However, I was still on holiday and had no intention to investigate. So the inquirer, Edmond Tulley, an amateur investigator who occasionally worked with Scotland Yard, felt it was incumbent to go. The journey was about two days by rover.
When Tulley arrived, he and his guide, a native Egyptian, camped and checked provisions. Cert
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