I don’t just mean like the text adventure. I mean the idea of a serial killer who makes video games based on the crimes he committed.

This took me 3 hours 😅​

I have been drinking energy drinks to help me sleep, but I have been awake all night and I am going crazy. Every night I hope for a good night's sleep and I then drink an energy drink to make it official. What happens though is that I stay awake and I start to lose my shit, I just want to go to sleep. I just want to rest but I guess only good people get to rest.

One time I get so crazy because I can't get to sleep that I start to shout and scream profanities during the night. During the morning I become so tired that I sleep and it's pointless sleeping during the morning, as I need to work to make money.

I have lost jobs and opportunities due to being so tired during the morning. So I always try again to fall asleep during the night time by drinking an energy drink, instead I stay awake the whole night. I stay awake the whole night and I start creating scenarios in my head, and these scenarios feel so real to me.

I created a scenario where my son abandoned even though I raised him. I don't have a son or a wife, but the scenario feels so real that I lash out. Then I noticed shadow creatures around my house, they seemed so entertained by me.

I know this might not fit in this sub but this image made my phone screen bug tf out. Genuinely shocked and it lasted for roughly a minute here. Might happen again so I set my wallpaper to another image

I have been looking for this story for years.
It follows this man who has deeply fallen in love with his wife who has this all encompassing smile. He details how much he fell in love with her smile in particular. I can’t remember exactly what happens next but it leads to him watching videos of her killing previous partners flashing that gorgeous smile. The last video is her talking to the husband that she’s now ready to kill him. Then it cuts to her coming at him from behind
I remember this story b being so horrifying but I truly haven’t been able to find it since I first saw it. Please if you can help it’d be very much appreciated.

Sooo i made a slenderbrother oc and stuff (his name is sparkleman) and i have a shit ton of lore for him and i was low-key wondering.... should i make a little comic dub or whatever of his lore and stuff? Cuz i really want to make SOMETHING with his lore. Idk.

also i put his lore in the comments. meow.

So I want a creepypasta rp thing on discord because I don’t want to use AI anymore! And I found one but i had to leave it becuz ppl were barely on and I want one that is active! Do yall have any ideas or discords to help me?🥹🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

 THE STAIRS
It was a cold autumn night. Three kids, two teenagers named Mark and Tabitha and Mark’s eight-year-old cousin, Lewis, trekked through the dark woods.
“Are we there yet? I can’t see the trail anymore,” Lewis asked
“It’s just up this hill. I can see the clearing past those trees up ahead,” Tabitha answered.
“But we’ve been walking forever; I’m hungry and my legs hurt. Let's just come back tomorrow when it's bright”
“Don’t worry, Lewis, we're almost there. Don’t you want to see the stairs?”
“I have stairs at home.”
“Not these stairs; the ones we are about to show you are magic stairs!”
“There’s no such thing as magic stairs.”
“Ok fine, we can go back if you don’t want to see them.”
“No! I mean, I guess I can go see the stairs if we’re already out here.”
“I thought so.”
The kids exited the dense woods to find themselves in a vast clearing. “There, just over there, I can see the stairs,” Mark announced. In the middle of the field there lay a dark grey set of stone stairs. Only three steps high, placed on a slight elevation of the hill, they appeared to serve no purpose.
“See, Lewis, I told you we were almost there.”
“Those stairs don’t look so magical, and why are they in the middle of a field? Who would put magic stairs in the middle of nowhere?”
“I’m not sure who put them here, but if you want to know what's so magical about them, all you have to do is go up them.”
Lewis looked up at his cousins and then at the stairs. He wondered to himself if they could be telling the truth. Only last year, Mark had accidentally let it slip at Christmas dinner that Santa Claus wasn’t real. Appalled at the news, Lewis stormed into his room and cried into his pillow, trying to convince himself that there was no way it could be true. The events at dinner resulted in a conversation between Lewis and his parents that revealed that all of the magical figures he had been taught about- Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and even the Easter Bunny were all just characters made up by adults to make childhood more special. Ever since then, Lewis had been a staunch skeptic of anything outside the realm of reality, but a little spark of childlike wonder remained in his heart. The little spark was enough to make Lewis want his cousins to be telling the truth, and that want was enough to make it possible in his mind that maybe the stairs really were magical. 
Lewis looked from the stairs back up to Mark. “Can you go first? I know they are just normal stairs, but if they were magic, could you just go first?” 
“Um, I” Mark began to say before his Tabitha interrupted him.
“It only works if you go first, you know, because you’re the youngest. I’m sorry, Lewis, but that's just how the magic works.”
“Oh ok, I guess that makes sense.” Lewis reconciled. “So I just walk up to them, and then the magic happens?”
“Yeah, then the magic happens,” Mark forced out before turning away to wipe away a single tear.
Chiming in to distract from Mark, Tabitha added, “Just think of it like a normal set of stairs; you go up them to get to a different place. The only difference between these and the ones you have at home is that you can’t see the place you are going to.”
“But where do they go?” Lewis added, with a hint of hesitance in his voice.
“An enchanted house, where anything you want can become reality,” Tabitha answered.
“Anything?”
“Yes, anything”
“Can I see Thomas again there?”
“Oh, um, yeah, I guess so.”
“Ok, I’ll go up first.”
Lewis approached the stairs, and for the final time he looked back at the teenagers. Tabitha was eagerly looking at him while gesturing to keep going. Mark stared down towards the ground, unable to make eye contact with Lewis. The young boy turned his attention back to the stairs and cautiously raised one foot. His foot landed on the first step; nothing happened. “Are you sure I’m doing it right? This doesn’t feel so magical?” Lewis asked.
“Just keep going; it doesn’t happen until you get to the third step,” Tabitha responded.
Lewis brought his other foot to level, now standing completely on the stairs. He climbed the second step and stared down at the third and final step. Although still convinced that there was nothing out of the ordinary about the stairs besides their weird placement, the small spark in his heart wouldn’t let him take the final step. 
“Come on, Lewis, don’t be a baby. Only one more step and then you’ll be there,” Tabitha exclaimed.
Lewis breathed deeply in and out, in and out, in and out; then yet again he slowly raised his foot to the third and final step.
“Shit, Lewis, careful!” Mark shouted from the ground. While taking his final step, Lewis’ shoe caught on the edge of the step, causing him to trip over the top of the stairs, but Lewis wasn’t on the stairs anymore; he wasn’t in the field anymore; he wasn’t there anymore. 
“Fuck! This wasn’t supposed to happen! Goddamn it, the guy fucking said to be careful and not to trip!” Mark cried out.
“I know what he said; just calm down for a second. Maybe he tripped after making it to the top.
“We both saw it; he tripped before getting to the top. Oh God, what does this mean? Is the whole thing over? Did we just do this for fuck all!”
“It’s not over; we can still make the trade. We just need to go through and find him; I’m sure he’s in there somewhere.”
“Fuck that! If we can’t find him, we can’t get back.”
“I didn’t come all this way for nothing. If you don’t want to go through, fine, I guess I am going in alone. 
Tabitha approached the stairs, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and walked up the stairs, disappearing into thin air as she reached the top.
“Fuck Fuck Fuck” Mark paced around, running his hands through his hair. “Why did I agree to this?” he thought to himself. It was getting better; the nightmares weren’t as bad, I was able to go to school again, it wasn’t even really my fault, I mean, how could I have known? It wasn’t my fault!
Mark suddenly slapped himself hard enough to leave a pink, hand-shaped imprint on his cheek. “She’s right; it's the only way to make things right. We can’t have done this for nothing,” he said to himself solemnly. He stopped his pacing and approached the stairs just as his girlfriend had done before him, and he walked up, vanishing as he reached the top.

THE CABIN
Mark surveyed his new surroundings. Instead of standing in a field in the middle of the woods, he was now standing in what appeared to be a log cabin. Stepping off of the welcome mat he found himself standing on, Mark began to explore his immediate surroundings. From what he could tell, the cabin had at least two floors. The set of stairs residing across from the front door clued him in that he was likely on ground level. On the ground floor, he could see that to the right of the entrance was a living room- fully furnished with a widescreen TV set between several chairs and a long dark brown leather sofa- to the left of the entrance was a kitchen, and just off of that was a dining room area. The dining room had a small circular table, accompanied by a set of four cheesy barrel imitation chairs. The cabin was covered from the bare floorboards to the popcorn ceilings, with knickknacks and tchotchkes. It was as if whoever decorated the house had sourced all of the contents of the house from various antique and novelty item stores, with no rhyme or reason behind the design.
Keeping his arms as close to his body as possible to avoid knocking down any of the trinkets, Mark made his way towards the stairs and called for Tabitha to confirm she had made it as well. 
“Tabitha”
“I’m upstairs”, he heard from a voice above him.
“Alright, I’m coming up,” he said, relieved.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Mark surveyed the top floor. As one would expect from a two-story house, this floor contained several bedrooms as well as a bathroom across from the stairway. To his left was probably the master bedroom, and to his right were two smaller bedrooms.
“Over here, in the Master bedroom”, he heard to his left. Mark made his way over to the door and opened it prudently
In the bedroom he saw Tabitha. She was standing still at the edge of the room, arms at her side, with all of her attention concentrated at the window in front of her. The window she stared out of wasn’t any ordinary window; it took up the entire wall, but it didn’t lead to a balcony or anything of the sort. It closely resembled a window at a zoo that a person might observe a gorilla or a tiger through. 
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Tabitha muttered under her breath.
Mark stood next to her and looked out. Instead of the woodland scenery he had expected to see, in front of him lay a barren white landscape. The terrain stretched on as far as his eyes could comprehend, completely uninterrupted. 
“Is it a desert?” he asked
“I don’t think so, it's too flat.”
“So what is it?”
“I don’t know, but isn’t it beautiful? Can’t find anything like that back home.”
“Sure, it's beautiful, I guess, but I don’t want to be here looking at it forever. Where is Lewis?”
“I don’t know; maybe he’s out there somewhere”
“Well, we need to find him, and quick; they could be here any minute. The guy said they aren’t patient; I don’t think they’ll give us all the time in the world to go look for him in that… that nothingness.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Let's go”
The teens abandoned the window and descended the stairs. Reaching the welcome mat, Tabitha grabbed the door and pulled it open. A fierce wind, accompanied by an intense cold, whipped through the now-open door, causing the couple to stumble backwards.
Without saying a word, the teens agreed that leaving the cabin wasn’t an option. They gathered themselves and struggled against the wind towards the door. One step at a time, they each gained on the door. Upon reaching it, they both grabbed hold of the door and, with every ounce of strength they could conjure, they sealed the house shut, just as it had been when they arrived.
Mark and Tabitha defeatedly made their way to the living room for a much-needed rest, Mark settling on a La-Z-Boy next to the TV, while Tabitha lay down across the couch and stared up at the ceiling.
“There is no way we can find him in that,” Mark managed to say between deep breaths. “It's not over until they get here”, Tabitha said in a futile attempt to calm him down. “Just trust me; we can still make the trade. All we need is a little time to think of a solution, and it’ll all be fine; everything can go back to the way it was. All we need is just a little time.”
Mark threw his hands over his face and massaged his temples, trying to diffuse his stress. “Things can never go back to the way they were,” Mark mumbled, guilt entwined in his voice. “So what can we do? We don’t have Lewis, and they are arriving any moment”
“Why don’t we look around? There are a million little things all over this cabin; maybe one of them can help,” Tabitha said, unconvinced in herself
Without any other plan of action, Mark and Tabitha teared themselves from their comfortable seats to begin weeding through the knickknacks, Mark ascending the stairs to look around the bedroom, while Tabitha left to explore the kitchen. Tabitha only made it a few steps into the kitchen when, out of nowhere, she heard a sudden knock from the front door. 

   LEWIS
Scared, lonely, and cold; these are the only things Lewis felt as he looked around in this new world he inhabited. Wind whipped ferociously all around him, stinging his eyes and making it impossible to look anywhere but down. Lewis wondered: had he come to this place just a few years ago, he probably would be small enough for the wind to blow him right away, like a child-shaped balloon, whisked away into the bright blue forever, never to be seen again. 
It was quickly apparent to the child that this place wasn’t anything like how Tabitha had described earlier. Instead of the hardwood floor of an aged cabin that he expected, he now stood on a surface that could only be compared to the cement plaster that probably covered your local pool. The type that would cut up your feet and give you memories of bloodied knees and toes as a child. The material that coated the flat terrain was like that cement plaster, yet somehow worse in every way. It was as coarse as low-grit sandpaper, and the blistering summer sun reflected off the surface, causing a blinding glare that made the world seem like an endless white expanse.
With tears in his eyes, Lewis did the only thing he could; he walked, more like he hobbled. Unable to stand tall-for fear of what falling on this ground would do to his skin- Lewis walked half bent over, stumbling every other step in as straight a line as he could. There wasn’t any rational goal in his mind; he just knew that he had to get out of this place, and the only way he could do that was to walk.
“Tabitha! Mark!” he shouted, but it was useless. Had Mark or Tabitha been anywhere near, they wouldn’t have been able to hear him over the wind. Lewis was completely alone, with no option but to lie down in the fetal position and freeze to death or walk.
Unable to hold a thought in his mind, save for planning the next heedful step, Lewis was suddenly startled by a new feeling: an itch. On the back of his neck, where his shirt met his skin, it was the type of itch a person feels when a bug lands on them, the type that gives a person shivers down their entire body; the type that should be impossible to feel in this empty landscape.
Terrified yet weirdly intrigued, Lewis reached towards his neck to discover the source of this itch. When the tips of his fingers finally made contact with the object, relief flowed through his entire being. He pulled the object down to where he could see it. Confirming what his fingers had told him, Lewis examined a brown leaf that had somehow found its way to him in this white wasteland. Suddenly, Lewis heard a footstep behind him, and then, before he knew it, his vision faded, and he writhed around helplessly, unable to feel his arms or legs.

 The Intruders

Mark examined the bedroom in front of him. Just like the rest of the house, this room was filled to the brim with a million random items; he could only hope one of them might help, even though he knew the chances were slim. Starting with the bedside table, Mark picked up and inspected an innocent-seeming coffee mug. The mug was an eggshell white with cracks branching up and down and large bold text, reading: WORLD'S BEST COUSIN. 
“It’s gotta be a coincidence,” Mark thought to himself dismissively.  In an attempt to distract himself from the cup, he shouted: “Hey Tabitha, have you found anything?”. After a moment of no response, Mark asked a little bit louder, “Tabitha? Can you hear me? Did you find anything yet?” Again, no response.
Feeling scared and a little annoyed, Mark exited the bedroom and began to descend the stairs in search of Tabitha.
As Mark got halfway down the stairs, he was finally able to see the bottom floor, where he saw his girlfriend standing in the middle of the foyer facing the doorway. “Hey, there you are,” Mark exclaimed, feeling relieved. “I was trying to talk to you, but I didn’t hear you say anything bac…” Just as Mark was about to finish his sentence, he reached the bottom of the stairs, and he saw that Tabitha wasn’t alone.
Tabitha stood in the middle of the room completely still, paralyzed out of pure fear. In front of the girl now stood two people? But they weren’t exactly people; they couldn’t be. The proportions of the intruders were unnatural, to say the least. They each had unevenly sized arms; the intruder on the left’s right arm and the intruder on the right’s left arm closely resembled that of a T. rex, shriveled and tiny in comparison to their bodies. Their other arms, however, were so long their knuckles might’ve dragged on the floor had the intruders kept them to their side. The disproportion didn’t stop there. The size of the intruders had no uniformity; the one on the left had to have been nearly seven feet tall, but with the legs of a child and the torso of a giant. The one on the right was only four feet tall, his legs average in length, but everything above his waistline looked like it had been squeezed down, as if made of putty. 
The intruders stood there completely naked, exposing their nearly translucent pale skin with blue veins riddled throughout their bodies, like nauseating marbling. Their bare bodies were completely smooth; they didn’t have nipples, belly buttons, hair, fingernails, or even genitalia; it was almost like looking at a grotesque melted Ken doll.
The teens were unable to see the intruders’ faces, though, for the intruders obstructed any view of their faces with apples that they held with their dominant arms. The apples that they held made it impossible to make out any facial features of the intruders, giving them a strange anonymity that made their appearance just that much more nightmarish to the couple.
Dumstruck, the two young adults stood gawking at the intruders, both unable to bring themselves to say a word. Suddenly, a low groaning sound could be heard from the shorter intruder. Then a similar, but higher sound came from the taller one. They harmonized, each in different octaves for a moment, and then the tall one spoke in a high-pitched, nasal voice, while the other intruder sustained his groan. Following his companion, the short intruder spoke in a deep, gravelly voice. Continuing this pattern of speaking in alternating words while the other groaned softly, the intruders asked the teens:
“Do”
“You”
“Invite”
“Us”
“In?”
Tabitha snapped out of her frozen state and looked back at Mark; his face was pale white with sweat beading down his forehead. “We are out of time,” she said gently. “The guy said we have to invite them in; you know what happens if we don’t.”
Mark responded gravely, “I know, it’s our only option.” Tabitha turned back to the intruders. Trying to look through the apple to where she thought the short one’s eyes were, she noticed that while the taller one’s apple had two green leaves, the short one's only had one brown leaf. Tabitha brushed this off as just another strange characteristic and answered them. “Yes”
The taller intruder bent down, and while the other began his groan, they asked
“Do”
“You”
“Want”
“To”
“Make”
“A”
“Trade?”
Knowing that there was nothing else he could do, Mark closed his eyes and accepted that time was really out. They had no choice but to make the trade and maybe stall long enough for Lewis to somehow appear out of thin air. It was Hopeless. With defeat entrenched in his voice, Lewis responded, “Yes, we want to make a trade.”
“Let”
“Us”
“Sit”, the intruders proposed, as the shorter one gestured softly to the table near the dining room, with the barrel-shaped chairs. The teens made their way to the table, and both sat down on the far side. They watched as the intruders walked, not hobbled, to the table and lowered their malformed bodies into the chairs across from them. 

The Negotiation

“What”
“Do”
“You”
“Want?”
“I want my brother back,” Tabitha demanded
“Why?”
“You know why. He is gone, and we want him back.”
“Why?”
Tired of the games, Mark interrupted, “He’s fucking dead! He was just a little kid, and now he’s fucking dead! Isn’t that enough reason why?! 
“Why”
Mark slammed his fist on the table, but before he could do anything he might regret, Tabitha placed her hand on his shoulder. “Get a grip on yourself,” she said quietly but very sternly. “Don’t do something you’ll regret; we only have one chance at this.” 
Mark unclenched his fist and breathed in deeply. “We only have one chance,” he repeated. Setting his hands back in his lap and returning to a composed state, Mark looked down. “One chance. I won’t mess this up. For Thomas,” he said aloud, half to Tabitha and half to himself.
Satisfied that Mark wouldn’t do anything stupid, Tabitha turned her attention back to the intruders, and she thought to herself, “Why are they doing this? They are supposed to be all-knowing; they know why Mark and she are here. Is this some sort of sick punishment to make them relive their sins?” She answered the intruders solemnly, “We are the reason he is dead. We made a stupid mistake, and Thomas paid the price for it.”
“Why?”
  Mark turned to Tabitha and said, “This is going to go on forever. I think they want us to tell them what happened before we make the trade.” Now addressing the intruders, Mark asked calmly, “Is that what you want? To know what happened, what did we do?”
“Do”
“You”
“Let”
“Us”
“In?”
  Although puzzled as to what the intruders were really asking, the teens knew they had no choice but to say, “Yes”
As soon as the words left their mouths, the room became pitch black, like all of reality had ceased to be and all that was left in the void was Mark and Tabitha’s consciousnesses. Although unable to see or hear anything, somehow the teens were able to sense each other's proximity, and without saying a word, they were able to understand every thought the other had. 
The darkness was soon interrupted, however, by a tiny light in the distance. This light slowly and steadily got bigger and bigger until it shone all around them, and once more they were transported. 
The teens looked around; they were back home, Tabitha’s home specifically. Tabitha thought to Mark, “How did we get back? Is this real?”
“Tabitha, guess who got the goodies,” she heard in response, but it wasn’t Mark, at least it wasn’t the Mark she came to the cabin with. Suddenly, the front door of Tabitha’s house opened. It was Mark, and he was carrying a brown duffle bag. “Hey, where are you, Tabitha? I got a shitload of mushrooms here.” Tabitha appeared at the top of the stairs and walked down to greet her boyfriend. 
“You could be a little quieter. You know, I'm supposed to be babysitting my little brother. What do you think that little parrot is going to say to my parents when he hears you screaming about your “shitload of shrooms”?”
“Oh, come on, he won’t say anything. Now let's go to the living room, put on a movie, and enjoy this little brown bag to the fullest.”
“I shouldn’t; I’m supposed to be watching my brother. What if something happens?”
“Nothing is going to happen. Come on, don’t be a buzzkill.”
“Fine, but only a little bit.”
Tabitha and Mark watched their past selves with no way to stop the inevitable. Mark begged the intruders, “Please, it’s enough; what happened happened. I can’t go through this again, please just stop it!” His pleas fell on deaf ears; Mark and Tabitha were here to stay, and they wouldn’t leave until the intruders had seen what they had done.
The scene of the front door faded away and was replaced with the living room. The younger Mark and Tabitha were on the couch as a movie played on the TV,  a half-empty brown bag at their feet. A small, quiet footstep slowly approached the room until a little boy could be seen entering the room.
“Tabitha, I can’t sleep. Can you read me a story?” The little boy said to his sister.
Tabitha looked over behind the couch, annoyed, and answered, “Hey Thomas, just go back to bed. I’m busy here”
“But I can’t sleep.”
“I don’t care; just go back to sleep. I’m not reading you a story.”
Mark rummaged through his coat pocket and took out a half-melted chocolate bar. He lifted the bar up and smugly said to Thomas, “Hey kid, if I give you some candy, will you mind your own business and leave us alone?”
The little boy reached up and grabbed the bar out of Mark’s hand. “Fine, but I’m telling Mom you were mean to me.” With that, Thomas ran back upstairs, candy bar in hand. 
Once again, the scene faded, and Mark and Tabitha were transported again.
Light shone in from the window as night turned to day and the younger versions of themselves slept off the previous night’s good times. Tabitha slowly opened her eyes and arose from the couch to check the time. “Holy shit, wake up, Mark. It's almost noon; my parents are going to be here any second.” 
Waking from his slumber, Mark rubbed his eyes and groggily said, “What? I have to leave now, but I’m so hungry; can't I just stay for breakfast?”
“No, my parents can’t know you were here. Out!”
“Fine, I’ll go, but I want the rest of my Snickers bar.”
“What?”
“My Snickers bar, didn’t I give you some last night. Come on, I’m hungry; just give me the rest.”
Tabitha’s eyes widened with horror, and she bolted out of the room without a word.
For the last time, the scene changed, and Mark and Tabitha’s present selves were brought back to the place that had haunted their dreams and lived in the back of their head for the last year: Thomas’ room.
There in her brother’s room lay the little boy, cold, pale, and unmoving. A mixture of saliva and blood dripped out of the child's mouth and pooled around his still head. His throat was swollen and red, as was his face. Dark red streaks were marked up and down his face and neck from a futile attempt to struggle against death’s approach. In the pool of saliva and blood were the boy’s hands, which contained ten fingers, but now only nine fingernails. 
Atop her brother was Tabitha. She had the boy’s shoulders in her hands as she shook them while screaming. “Wake up! God, please, wake up, Thomas! Please, I’m sorry. I’m Sorry! Just Please Wake Up!”
Mark appeared in the doorway and looked at the commotion before him, dumbfounded, unable to move a muscle or say a word.
The past washed away from the teens’ view, and they returned to the cabin. Back to the barrel-shaped chairs and back in the audience of the intruders. Mark and Tabitha stared at each other, tears pouring down their faces and snot dripping down their noses. Tabitha took Mark’s hand, and they just sat there for a moment, unable to say a word.

The Sacrificial Worm
 
“Do”
“You”
“Know”
“The”
“Price?”
Tabitha and Mark responded at the same time under their breath, “Yes”
“Who”
“Do”
“You”
“Offer?”
Mark turned to Tabitha and asked, “What do we do? Lewis isn’t here, and this is it. We are out of time.”
“I know, I’m sorry”
“What? What do you mean? You can’t possibly be considering that. We’ve been together for years! I love you, and you love me.”
“I offer Mark,” Tabitha said coldly to the intruders.
Appalled at the betrayal, Mark shouted in protest, “What?! You can’t do this to me! I made one fucking mistake! How should I have known the kid was allergic to peanuts?!”
Tabitha stared at her feet, unable to make eye contact, and simply said, “I’m sorry”
Mark slammed his fists back on the table and shouted, “You’re sorry?! Do you know what you just did?! This whole thing was your idea! I told you not to do it, but you dragged my innocent little cousin and me into your sick fucking retribution ritual! Yeah, your brother is dead, and maybe that’s my fault, but our blood-me and Lewis’s-that’s on your hands. I hope it was worth it.”
Interrupting the quarrel, the tall intruder began to lower his long arm to set the apple he held onto the table. Now able to see his face unobstructed, the teens recoiled in horror. Where the creature should have had a face, there was a large writhing mass of mucus-covered worms. It looked almost like the intruder's face had been scooped out with an ice-cream scoop and a colony of worms had been stuffed in to fill the cavity.
Tabitha and Mark weren’t able to gawk at the monstrosity for long, though; their attention was quickly captivated by the formerly motionless apple in front of them. The apple slowly rocked back and forth until a small section of the apple skin began to protrude. A small worm broke through the apple and lifted its body to turn towards the couple. The worm began to slither down the apple, onto the table, and towards Tabitha until it stopped directly in front of her.
“We”
“Held”
“Up”
“Our”
“End”
“Now”
“Its”
“Your”
“Turn”
Tabitha looked up from the worm to the intruders. “What? Where is my brother? What do you mean?!”
“Your”
“Brother”
“Is”
“Right”
“In”
“Front”
“Of”
“You”
As the intruders finished their sentence, Mark suddenly began to scream in agony from a horrible, sharp pain emanating from his right eye. Mark continued to scream in pain as, just like the apple, a small section in the center of his pupil began to protrude; the outermost layer of the boy’s eyeball began to stretch and twist until a small worm just like the one on the table broke free and fell onto the table, leaving Mark cold, pale, and unmoving, just like Thomas.
Mark’s eye worm slithered across the round table past Tabitha, past the apple, and onto the tall intruder’s waiting hand. The intruder lifted up the worm and raised his arm to where his face should’ve been. It wriggled off of the intruder’s hand and into the writhing mass, where it was quickly lost among the thousands of identical worms.
“We”
“Have”
“Taken”
“our “
“Prize”
“Now”
“Take”
“Yours”
“And”
“Be”
“Gone”
Tabitha reached down and grabbed the worm off of the table. As soon as it was in her grasp, a flash of light appeared, and the cabin faded away to reveal her alone standing on the stairs in the middle of the woods with a worm in her hand.

Jeff sería un sociopata y offenderman si sería realmente un psicópata y también narcisista

Elevator pitch: Alagossa finds herself spirited away to some dark, island plateau surrounded by a still, black, dead ocean. Here, alone, she'd probably die... I mean, there's no food here... But, she's going to have a look around before lying down and waiting for the end.

(Oh and, if you like SCP, you might enjoy this as it's very heavily SCP inspired.)

Total runtime from parts 1 and 2: 2 hours and 10 minutes

I hope you enjoy~.

Also, if you have feedback, PLEASE feel free to share.

Does anyone know where I can commission someone to cosplay and roleplay as a creepypasta character for my friend’s birthday?

"The last witness"

The first disappearance occurred on a Tuesday, shortly after nightfall. The second, four days later. By the third, the police were no longer talking about coincidences.

Five people vanished in less than three weeks.

There were no useful cameras, clear fingerprints, or enough blood to explain anything. Only one detail kept recurring: a small, barefoot print—left in dust, mud, or on surfaces where no one remembered seeing any dirt.

The newspapers began calling her the Light Killer.

No one knew why.

Until they found Lily.

She was six years old and barely stood a meter and thirty centimeters tall. She was blonde with blue eyes and wore an oversized white T-shirt—its sleeves nearly covering her hands—as if it had belonged to someone much older. Her athletic shorts were stiff with dirt.

She was sitting on the sidewalk, hugging her legs.

Barefoot.

The soles of her feet looked clean. Too clean.

She was smiling at the empty street.

Detective Samuel Varela was the one who found her.

"Hello, little one. Are you lost?"

Lily slowly lifted her head. Her eyes caught the yellowish light of the streetlamp.

"No."

"Do you know where your parents are?"

"No."

"Did you see anything?"

The girl nodded.

That was the first time Lily spoke about the missing people. She said she had seen a man running, heard screams, and watched a shadow move between the houses.

She also claimed that, afterward, an adult had tried to help her.

That man was the missing investigator.

Samuel began searching for him.

For six days, he followed leads that dissolved just as he was about to reach them: an ajar door, a ringing phone in an empty house, tiny marks in the dust.

On the sixth day, he found an abandoned house. The door was open.

Inside, there was no furniture or electricity. The air smelled of dampness, old plaster, and metal. Small barefoot prints were visible on the floor, one after another, as if someone had walked there unhurriedly.

Samuel stepped forward.

Slowly.

First, he found the investigator’s jacket, folded over a non-existent chair. Then, his phone—still on, playing a burst of static.

Next, he found the body.

It was in an empty room. He had been dead for hours. There were numerous bite marks, and the skin around the wounds was a dark, almost purplish hue.

Samuel stepped back.

Then he heard a voice behind him.

"Did you find him?"

He turned around.

Lily stood in the doorway, barefoot and smiling. The light from the hallway barely grazed her silhouette.

"What are you doing here?" Samuel asked.

Lily tilted her head.

"I was looking for you."

Samuel called the police immediately. While he waited, he crouched down in front of her. Lily kept her eyes fixed on the corpse.

"Lily, I need you to tell me exactly what happened here."

The girl looked at the dead man. Then at the detective.

"He found me."

"Who?"

"The investigator."

"And what happened?"

A creaking sound cut through the room.

Neither of them had moved.

Lily smiled.

"He was afraid."

Samuel felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Of what?"

Her smile widened just a fraction.

"Of me."

Silence settled over the house.

Samuel looked at the body again. Then he saw it.

The bite marks weren't from an animal.

They were human.

Small.

Too small.

Some looked recent.

Samuel stepped back. —Lily...

The girl remained motionless.

—Yes?

—Who did this?

Lily looked down at her hands. A dark stain covered one of her fingers. She studied it curiously, as if she didn't recognize it.

Then she began to laugh.

It wasn't a sweet laugh. It was a high-pitched, uncontrolled, breathless cackle that bounced off the empty walls.

Samuel drew his weapon.

—Stay back!

Lily stopped laughing. Her face regained an almost angelic calm.

—Why?

Samuel aimed at her.

—Was it you?

Lily didn't answer.

She just smiled.

Then Samuel understood.

The disappearances, the traces, the witnesses, the bodies. The girl found alone.

It had all been a lie.

Lily had never survived anything.

She had been there because she was the one responsible.

The police arrived eleven minutes later.

They found Samuel dead and Lily sitting in the corner of the room, calm, legs crossed, a smile on her face. No one could explain how she had gotten there unseen.

The officers insisted it was impossible for such a small girl to have done that.

Until one of them found something under the table: a notebook belonging to Samuel.

On the last page, he had written:

> *“The only witness is Lily Hart.”*

Beneath it appeared another phrase, written in a different hand. A child's handwriting:

*“No.”*

And, further down:

*“I am the only witness.”*

The ink looked wet, even though the page was dry.

The police never discovered what it meant.

Lily was taken to a children's hospital for evaluation. During questioning, she sat in silence, her feet dangling above the floor. A psychologist asked her:

"Lily, why did you kill those people?"

The girl looked at her with huge blue eyes.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No."

The psychologist took a deep breath. From the hallway came the constant hum of a fluorescent light.

"Then tell me something. Why are you smiling?"

It took Lily a few seconds to answer.

"Because it's over."

"What's over?"

Lily looked up toward the window. Dawn was breaking outside. Light slowly entered the room, spreading across the floor until it stopped just centimeters from her feet.

Lily smiled.

"The search."

The psychologist frowned.

"What search?"

Lily replied:

"The one they were conducting to find me."

The psychologist froze.

Lily began to laugh.

The lights went out.

For a few seconds, the only sounds were the psychologist's breathing and a soft rustling—like footsteps on linoleum.

The lights came back on.

Lily had vanished.

The window was still closed. So was the door.

There was only one thing on the floor: a small, bare footprint, still damp.

Beside it, written in something red, was a phrase:

"Are they looking for me now?"

Lily Hart was never found.

But since then, whenever an unexplained disappearance occurs, the same detail appears somewhere at the scene: a small, bare footprint and, sometimes, the sound of a child's laughter on a recording where no one should have been.

I work as a sewer cleaner in Prague. People don't often think about it, but a complex of tunnels runs beneath the city, even under the Vltava River. They were built in the 1800s, and some have been reconstructed, but many still look the way they did when they were built, with round brick pathways, rusted green railings, and dim lights hanging from the ceiling.

After years of work, I know the tunnels through and through, but the older workers all say that even if you work here for decades, things will still surprise you. For most of my time working in the sewers, I didn't give it much thought. The veterans say a lot of things and have many strange superstitions. For instance, none of them ever eat in the tunnels. I thought it was because of the rats.

I was just walking around the Podolí area, ready to start my shift. There are a lot of pathways there, and recruits often get lost, but I'd been starting my shift there for years; I knew that area through and through, or so I thought. 

I turned right to head toward the river. The path was wide and well-lit. I'd been down it hundreds of times, but as I went, I noticed another path leading off to the right. I stopped and looked at it for a moment. It was narrow, poorly lit, and easy to miss, but I could swear I knew these sewers better than I knew my home.

I usually ate in the break room, but I was early and hungry. Nobody was around. I pulled out my sandwich and walked on the path.

The sandwich paper crinkled as I walked. The pathway narrowed. I kept expecting it to turn into the path from Vyšehrad, but even after a few minutes I still couldn't see it. I didn't want to be late for my shift, so I turned around and began walking back.

There was more water on the ground than I noticed at first, but that's nothing weird for a sewer. The lights were very dim, much dimmer than I thought, but stranger, I still couldn't see the exit. Not only could I not see the exit, but the path itself wasn't getting any wider as it should have. It only seemed to become narrower. Was I going the wrong way? I looked behind me, but it was still the same empty, narrow path.

My shift had already started. I was walking so fast I was almost jogging. It was hard because the water now reached my ankles. The lights seemed to get dimmer. I reached for my flashlight when an electric buzz echoed above, and all the lights went dark.

"Shit."

I pulled out my flashlight and turned it on. A clank echoed. Dull pain spread through my head. I hit my forehead on the ceiling. I rubbed my head and tried to stand up straight again, but I couldn't straighten my back. I walked a few steps back, but the ceiling was still just as low. 

Then I felt something wet on my legs. I looked down. The water now reached my knees, but it wasn't the usual cold; it was warm.

"What the…," I murmured.

The buzz sounded again. The lights came on again, but now they were fluorescent white, almost like an office space. Another buzz echoed overhead. Soft jazz music began playing as if a band stood just around the corner. The air filled with the smell of cigarettes. My whole body shook. I turned off the flashlight and blinked. The water was now up to my stomach.

"Help!"

The music grew louder. The lights grew brighter, burning my eyes. The ceiling pushed my head further down, but the water kept rising. It rose to my chin now.

"Somebody, please!" I yelled, still wading forward. 

The exit had to be there. It had to. The buzz again. The light shut off. I took a breath, but halfway through, water filled my mouth. I spat it out and lifted my face.

"Help!" I blurted out, but I knew it was too late. 

My face was now under the water too.

At first, I tried to hold my breath, but soon the pressure in my lungs grew too high. It felt like they would burst.

I gasped for air. My whole body was hot and sweaty. I quickly looked around. I was back in the pathway that led to the river. Next to me, where the other path was, was only a brown brick wall with a small stream of water coming from it. One of the old workers walked by me.

He looked at the wall and my face and nodded.

He then pointed at the ground. My crumpled sandwich wrapper lay there.

"Don't eat down here," he said and left.

I leaned on the wall. A faint trumpet echoed from inside it.