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Creepypasta: A Routine CheckupCreepypasta: A Routine Checkup
Damn, looks like we’re fresh out of anesthetic. Eh, a gag soaked in brandy works equally well-oh, sorry, I’m just talking to myself. It’s so nice of you to come in for an appointment, I don’t get many patients anymore after losing my medical license. And my sanity. And my office. But this back alley seems the perfect place to practice dentistry. Did you know you’re supposed to see a dental professional at least once a-
What? Who am I and how did you get here? Well, as I said, I’m a dentist. More like the dentist, am I righ-SHUT UP, NURSE! Sorry about that, my nurse here never stays quiet for long enough. Anyhow, after getting kicked out of Nicaraguan medical school…er, again that is, because at first they wouldn’t even let me in and I had to sleep with the director before they’d…ahem, anyway, after that I set up shop in this alley behind the Burger Trench. Fast food is very bad for your te
Micropasta: An Austere Sort of TruthMicropasta: An Austere Sort of Truth
“Sensory deprivation”. Those two words, innocuous as they might seem, have come to define this eternity I have spent in here. My only connection to the outside world is the breathing apparatus that prevents me from drowning, floating in this tank of pitch-dark water. I have long since forgotten who I am or why I am being experimented upon, if my cooperation was willing or coerced, what my past life was and how long I have been caught in this dreamless sleep.
And yet, here in this limbo, this no-man’s-land between real and unreal, I have never felt more alive. I see him, Niisha, the one who is called Sanity’s Anthesis. The God of Secrets, grasping outwards from the furthest recesses of my mind. Entreating me to join the others.
The others. All those in Human history who have lost feeling, who lost all hope, who came to be dead to this world. Niisha watches over us, gives us purpose. I am ready to reach back and accept his offe
NightmaresThe same fear has always been at the back of my mind, a recurring nightmare from long ago. It wasn’t my eventual death that terrified me, but the slow and agonizing torture before the end.
The desperate struggling, the begging. The pleas left ignored as I’m held back by hands… by chains. The pounding of each nail on the lid, sealing my fate forever. The banging and yelling, calling for help from anyone who could hear me. The scraping, bloody fingernails on wood. The drop, the heavy thud landing six feet below. Each shovel packing more and more of the earth, burying me alive. The suffocation and claustrophobia… oh god, the moment everything closes in and I knew it really was the end.
I always awoke gasping for air, shaking and hysterical. But this time, I don’t.
Because now, it isn't just a nightmare.
5naf tales PART 1POV #1- FOXY THE FOX
Foxy sighed as he listened to the trio on stage play the same stupid birthday song, just changing the name, over and over. It was 1987. A year after that man, Charles, maybe? He couldn't remember the night watch's name. But he had killed foxy and his friends, in cold blood. They had been forced into those disgusting robotic suits, and their young spirits refused to leave until they were justified. He growled softly under his breath, that same moment replaying in his mind over and over. The night watch had died shortly after. tripping due to a certain fox robot grabbing his leg. He fell, golden suit and all, into the trash compactor, without even a scream. True, there were stories of a "fifth child" being abducted and murdered with foxy and his friends, but in truth, that "fifth child" was the night watch who murdered them all. Foxy's growls grew louder. Lies. The newspaper held lies. He knew that soon he would be called to his stage, by freddy. He hated this job. "
ChargingOn my computer, doing computer things.
A notification pops up.
“Plug in laptop. Battery level: 7%”
I get up from my bed, go under my desk, unplug the useless charger that doesn’t charge anything, and plug in the laptop charger. Then I go back to doing computer things.
20 minutes later.
Notification pops up.
“Plug in laptop. Battery level: 7%”
I get up from my bed, go under my desk.
The useless charger is plugged in.
The laptop charger plug is on the floor.
Plague BirdsSt. Helens Bishopsgate, City of London. 1666
What had she done to earn this? Her husband and child dead and those… plague birds who had come ‘round while she was attending a birth in another home. The irony of it struck her as she swept a strand of fair hair out of her eyes. Delivering life in the midst of God’s displeasure. It almost made her doubt in His kindness. What sort of God would take life with one hand and permit another woman’s child to survive. She scrubbed a hand across her eyes, not caring that she left a dirt streak across the bridge of her nose.
Phoebe spat on the ground, averting her gaze from the plague bird in white as he hurried along and shut the nearest door behind him. Another death or soon enough from the look of things. The stink of burning flesh and smoke filled the air from the burning pits outside of the city. She turned away, being careful not to step into the filth and mud stirred in the street. There had been little enough m
W is for Weil's DiseaseShe turned on the television as she made her morning coffee. Black with two spoonful’s of sugar. As the TV screen was blocked by the broken piano, she listened to the news. Something caught her interest. “…rats have been seen in Cambridgeshire, following the escape at the Babraham Institute, a biological research laboratory. A response has not been given by the Institute, though the county has been warned to take care with food hygiene and pest control.”
Rats. It reminded her that there were rats in the house. There were occasions where she could hear them but hadn’t seen a single rat. Karen wanted the rats to leave. She knew where everything was, where certain things belonged, but not the rats. Oh, no. The rats just had to move around, taking her belongings as they went through each room.
As she climbed over the rusty bicycle to get to the fridge, Karen looked at her baby. A photo of her baby was on the fridge door. The sonogram photo had been on that fri
Dear Amanda 'Panda',I heard a rumor that despite your ripe young age, you possess the sexual wisdom and prowess to make men faint. My ex-boyfriend totally seemed into what you had to offer so I was hoping for a little tutorial in how to become desperate; disregard morals, or, at the very least, the motto “treat others as you’d like to be treated”; sext, record explicit video of myself and photograph a variety of naked self-portraits just for the fun and attention I get from a man I happen to know is in a relationship; keep these antics up for a sweet sans bitter period of 4 months; knowingly make and model a handmade gift for his girlfriend and think it’s a respectable idea; overprice said gift by about 300 dollars whilst actually tricking the guy into not only paying that outrageous fee, but sending an upright gift, like an emergency pussy alarm for those lonely nites!
I’m hoping you have tips on where to buy cheap lingerie or lighting for those tricky close-ups when my fing
Counter-Cultural HiveDemonic dolls dripping acid drops into microdots for
Barbaric bogans to create chaotic commotion,
A telekinetic serial killer, a spine-chilling thriller,
My words are like venom to your cerrabellum,
Trapped in a system within a cubicle prison,
Self-medicated lethargy, destroying any last
Remnant of motivation and energy.
What's my name?
whatever I damn well choose it to be?
No appealation proliferation will manifest my destiny.
Imminent death is all about me,
No galaxy can avoid Saturlnalia inevitability,
City streets, dark and replete with bloodied sheets, slit-wrists,
And smashed windowpanes, spreading diseased shards throughout this murksome game.
Ragged feet, traversing concrete pathways,
Dark airways, blood spattered on the page,
Urchins, primed to disrupt and derange,
The norms, find us strange, frightening, exciting,
In disgust, we head down to the prophetic underground,
A dungeon of dragons and derelicts, despots and heretics,
Dope, Devilsih & Profound.
Here we can creat
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More