Christmas Special Creepypasta: A Christmas Wish

“Well, its cold and snowing outside, as it should be on Christmas Day, but we’re all snug in here” announced Tommy’s mother. Tommy winced.

As she opened the door to show them all the blizzard raging outside, Tommy willed himself to get up and walk through the door, and go anywhere but here. As usual, his legs refused to obey.

“Hot chocolate”, his mother smiled, “specially for Christmas”. Tommy’s stomache turned over at the sight of the curdled milky drink, but he knew that what came later was much worse.

An interlude of boredom loomed, wherin Tommy unwrapped his Christmas presents, staring for the hundredth time at the same book and the same dvd, why hadn’t anyone had the foresight to buy him some food?

The chocolates he was able to eat each day did nothing to alleviate his hunger, and he had lost quite a bit of weight on this diet. In the background, the radio churned out the same old Christmas songs, which were beginning to drive Tommy crazy.

Then the finale of the day, the big meal, none of which Tommy could eat any more, and which he had tried on numerous occasions to avoid, but he found himself as ever sitting between his brother and sister at the gaily decorated table, as his father triumphantly carried out the huge turkey.

The smell was horrendous, between the turkey and the rotting vegetables.

As the platter was lowered, hundreds of maggots fell onto the table wriggling. Tommy closed his eyes and wished as hard as he could, but his original Christmas eve wish appeared binding.

As Tommy began to cry again, the radio started playing “wellll, I wish it could be Christmas everyday”.

—
Credits to: BECKYISHERE

Christmas Special Creepypasta: The Snow Globe Angel Told Secrets

The snow globe angel told secrets, but they were not nice secrets…

In the daytime, it was just an ordinary snow globe, left to Laura by her grandmother. The angel poised regally in a golden gown, smiling blandly. “Silent Night” chimed sweetly when the globe was wound up. But at night…

At night, it whispered:

" Your father loves Tim more than he does you; He never wanted a girl…"

"Your dad smothered your grandmother with a pillow; he was sick of taking care of her…"

And more, horrid secrets, but Laura couldn’t stop listening. Then, one night:

"Tim hates all of you. He’s going to kill you all Christmas Eve; he knows how to use your father’s gun…" Laura listened, as if in a trance.

"You can stop him…" the angel whispered. "A knife, while he’s asleep…"

Dreamily, Laura crept to the kitchen, got the big butcher knife and crept up to Tim’s room. Dreamily, she leaned over her sleeping brother, knife pointed toward his throat, when Tim’s light flicked on…

"Laura? What the—?! Laura!!" her father dashed into the room, and had the knife out of her hand before Laura could even shake herself out of her dreamlike state…

**************************

Laura’s mother sat morosely in Laura’s bedroom. They’d just returned from another disheartening visit to the psychiatric ward—Laura was still mostly uncommunicative. She occasionally whispered “It was the snow globe angel, don’t listen to the snow globe angel.”, but was otherwise silent and staring.

“I only ever heard it play ‘Silent Night’ her mother thought, turning the snow globe in her hands.

She wound it up…

"Your husband blames you for all this" it whispered…

—
Credits to: Queenofscots

Christmas Special Creepypasta: Christmas Presents

Every Christmas, my daughters and I put cookies and milk out for Santa and veggies for his reindeer.

When the girls are asleep, I sneak down and eat some of the food and drink the milk to make it look like Santa came.

Last night, after coming back from Christmas Eve mass and putting the girls to sleep, I ended up falling asleep on the couch.

When I woke up, I noticed that the snacks had been eaten and the milk was gone.

A note was left on the tree saying “Thanks for the Presents,” but I didn’t notice any were missing.

My daughters, however, were.

—
Credits to: xbeautyxtruthx

Christmas Special Creepypasta: Six Little Children

Father clapped his hands loudly to silence the noisy house.

“Now then,” he said, “are all you children ready for bed? Before you scamper off to dream of stockings and sugar-plums, Grandmother will tell you a story.”

The old woman hummed to herself while they gathered on the floor around her rocking chair. Once they grew quiet again, she spoke over the soft crackling of the fireplace. “When I was a girl, there was a tradition of telling scary ghost stories on Christmas Eve. But not this year. This year, I’m going to tell you the truth. Would you like that?”

Sleepy heads nodded. Grandmother cleared her throat and began to recite a poem.

“Six little children, all in a row.                           
Which one will be dragged out into the snow?
Santa brings gifts but he takes a gift too,
Each year a young tribute, as is his due.
He works them to death making next year’s toys,
Those we call elves, who were once girls and boys.
But Santa weaves magic and once morning dawns,
Good children forget the bad one who’s gone.
So which of you six was the naughtiest tot?
Can’t hide from Santa, you’re sure to be—“

“But Grandma!” the smallest girl interrupted, then covered her mouth.

“Yes, dear?”

In a tiny voice, almost a whisper, the girl continued.

“There are only five of us.”

Grandmother leaned forward, raised her spectacles, and slowly counted the children around her chair. When her finger reached an empty spot, she stopped.

“My goodness, so there are. I’m getting forgetful, too.”

Then she leaned back and began again.

“Five little children, all in a row…”

—
Credits to: IPostAtMidnight

Smiling Girl

I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m so scared and I can’t trust anyone.

I went camping about three weekends ago in the Huntsville national forest in Texas. Me and three friends that came home for the weekend, they are all in college and usually we all get together at least once a year, old friends from high school. For the camping trip we planned to go backpacking deep in the forest, live off of fish that we catch and animals that we can trap. We have been doing this for awhile in Texas and in numerous places, Arizona, Colorado (if anyone is familiar with the Spanish peaks there), New Mexico, so we‘re pretty much used to anything you‘d encounter out there.

It was my turn to pick where we went camping, so I chose Huntsville (more accurately it’s Huntsville/New Waverly). So we drive up there park our car in a camping park spot and start walking off into the forest. We had some laughs along the way, everyone catching up with eachother’s lives. We walked until it started to get dark and set up camp where we stopped. Everyone gathered wood to make a fire and we set our tent up. And we do what we always do: try and scare each other with weird stories.

Around this time we started to smell something very faint. It was noticeable, but not overbearing. We couldn’t put our finger on what it was, so we just carried on. Mike had to go piss and he walked off in the forest. A second later he come running back, piss all down his jeans like he’d missed really bad. Immediately we all crack up and throw some jokes at him. Then we noticed that he was white as snow and trying to catch his breath. He starts screaming for us to follow him, and runs off.

We all get serious and go follow him, not knowing what the problem was. We start to hear a faint scream and crying in the distance, in the direction we were running. It was pitch black away from the camp and Mike had the only flash light (we left ours at the camp, he had his from his trip taking a piss), so at this stage we didn’t have much choice but to follow the light, which was frantically pointing here and there in front of him.

The scream gets closer and Mike starts to slow down. We then notice a ratty old cabin that looked like it was abandoned, except for a faint light that we could see from one of the old mildew covered windows. The crying was intense: whoever it was couldn’t breathe enough to let out a full yell. We all followed Mike up to the front door and we could all hear the crying from inside. As soon as he knocked on the door it stopped.
We all waited and heard really heavy footsteps walking fast to the door. There was a giant slam against the door and the sound of a bolt unlocking. Then nothing. We waited for a bit, knocked a few more times, but still nothing happened. We walked around the house (there was no fucking way any of us were leaving each other’s side) and noticed a window, which was a good way up. Alex took a deep breath and said asked us to give him a boost so he could see inside. Me and Mike lifted him up to the window. We watched him brush away dirt and webs from the window and place his face close to the window to try and see something.

There was a quick beat. Then suddenly he breathed in fast and let out a loud scream. Then he fell back from the window, screaming bloody murder the whole way. We all tried to calm him down but he was hysterical. We went to him but he started to shake, punch, kick, you name it, and then took off towards the camp.
None of us wanted to be separated so we all ran close behind him. We caught up to him and grabbed him and set him down. The fire was dying out so I grabbed some nearby wood that we collected added it to the fire. My hands were shaking and I had to do something. I went back to Alex and we all tried to calm him down. He wouldn’t he kept screaming and was breathing so hard that he eventually fainted.

All of us are terrified now, and we all kept the fire high until sunrise. Periodically Alex kept waking up, screaming just like before. By sunrise he was up and looked catatonic, just mumbling to himself and whimpering.

Me and Mike decide to go look at the cabin now it was daylight. We searched where we thought it was, except there was nothing there. Nothing at all. The indistinct smell from last night had now grown into a very strong smell of something dead, something stale. We headed back to the camping site. When we got there we found Alex had chewed into the sides of his face and swallowed so much blood that he was throwing up. John was at his back, and he looked like he was about to die from exhaustion. I guess we all looked that way, I just didn’t notice until I saw his face. Alex said quietly that we need to leave. Now.

We all started to pack up the tent. It started to rain really heavily (it was about noon) and the sky started to grow really dark. Alex started to go into a panic. He went and grabbed a big stick and yelled at us to leave it and leave, now, or he‘d knock us out and drag us out of there himself. Mike started to yell at him, and they started to fight. We broke it up and finished packing, and then started to make our way back. After a little while we arrived at a creek we had crossed the previous day, only it was flooded over, and the water was moving too fast for us to cross it. Alex started to scream again, yelling at Mike for taking his time packing up the tent when we could have gotten out of here. This went on for a while until we finally convinced Alex to calm down and tell us what happened.

He said as soon as he put his face to the glass, a face on the other side did the same thing, and started to smile really big. It had dark eyes and a dark mouth which was much bigger then Alex’s, as the smile got as large as it could. A giant shadow behind it swung something down and sliced it‘s face off. The face was stuck to the window, and he said it started to laugh quietly as it slid down. Mike, still pissed off (and though he wouldn‘t admit it, beginning to get freaked out), started to argue with him again. We eventually started to follow the creek for a way to cross.

We then started to see toys floating in the creek. Really old toys, old Barbie dolls and baby dolls. This wasn’t like any old trash floating in the creek, though… this was a lot of barbies, a lot of baby dolls. One washed towards the side and Mike picked it up. It had some kind of voice chip that was dying and started to say some gurgling words we couldn’t understand, followed by it’s sad excuse for laughter. Then it sounded like it was whispering. We thought the batteries must be dying, he threw it down.

We kept going, and the sun was starting to set. Alex was freaking out more now, and was whimpering and breathing heavily. We all started to see shadows move behind trees, something we all called BS on until we all were seeing it. It was barely light out and we stop as we see the cabin right in front of us. None of us knows what to think.

Mike says “This is bull, I’m going in there.” Alex tries to stop him. We all do, all of us just wanted to go home. Mike says to all of us to fuck off, do our own thing, he doesn’t care anymore, this is all bull.
We start to hear hundreds of the same sort of baby doll as before, laughing, whispering and trying to sing. We start to move forward past the cabin, all of us, and kept pushing forward. We smelled something dead in the air, something stale. The same something as before. We started to hear something crying, and something screaming. We kept on going. We eventually crossed the creek and left the woods. We get back to our vehicle and got in. Its pitch black, and we drive. We are about to get on the 45 to Houston but the road is under construction and can’t be accessed. It points to a detour. As we head towards the detour it seems to be small, bumpy dirt road going into the woods.

We then see a young girl come up to us. She looks like she was in trouble, young and pretty. She approaches the passenger side door and she looks like she‘s really drugged up, or beaten up. Alex doesn’t roll down the windows, nor does he open the door. She reaches for the handle and he immediately locks it. She puts her face on the window and starts to smile really big. We floor it, Alex starts to cry and scream and we are all breathing heavy. We finally cut on a street that takes us to the 45 and we take it the whole way. When we get back to my apartment everyone doesn’t know what to say and we all break apart and go our separate ways.

Mike messages me later and says he is going to go back. I try to convince him not to and all he does is say it was our own minds that were screwing with us. I think he just went to prove to himself he wasn’t scared. I can smell that stench everywhere now. I don’t go out anymore, I just stay in and don’t answer the door. Last week everyone I met was acting really strange, people that I knew for a long time and total strangers. My own dad, when I went to his place to eat supper with him he just watched me, strangely, when I was sitting down. He didn’t say a word the whole time. I kept asking him “What’s wrong?” He just slowly shook his head.

When I was leaving to go home I turned to wave. He had black eyes and an open mouth like he was in pain. When I started to walk back he shut the door and bolted it. I stayed there knocking and knocking. Nothing. I called him, his phone was disconnected. I even called the police. Halfway through the questions they were asking me the connection started to fade into static. I could hear a faint mumbling, singing and laughing.
Mike has completely vanished. There is not even a record of him being alive. When I call Alex’s house they talk to me like I’m some salesman. They say they don’t know any Alex and to please stop calling. The person who tells me that is Alex‘s mother. I can’t get ahold of John. Someone knocked on my door and when I went to look I saw a face completely covering the peephole and a giant smile started to form.
I called the cops again and instead of it turning into static they got really strange.

“Sir, are you affected by any drugs at the moment?”

“No.”

“Are you coming home anytime soon?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come home.” and the phone call ended. My mail slot swings every now and then. Someone is sliding pieces of baby dolls through it. I try to call people now and all I can hear is static and bad baby doll noises and this crying and screaming. My TV is busted but when I go to piss I can hear it on. I might be going insane.

Whoever lives above me started to scream in pain and crying deeply recently. I hear giant footsteps from their apartment, I hear bangs and something falling to the ground. From the neighbors to the right of my apartment I hear what sounds like a baby that never gets tended too and then it sounds like a baby doll whose batteries are dying. My phone has been ringing now and it’s Alex telling me things in a language that I have never heard before, nor could even manage to repeat. I kept getting emails of pictures of black and small colorations, now I can’t even access my email. Someone knocks on the door, then they slam against it. I hear the bolts unlocking one by one and I run to make sure to lock all of them back and sit down crying.

What do I do? My electricity keeps dimming. My water, sinks, bath, shower, all smell like something dead. I keep seeing a shadow of someone behind me raising something up in the air, and I just take off to the other side of the apartment with my head against the wall. I have boarded my windows shut, someone was throwing rocks through them. I never could see who. I have boarded my bedroom in, I hear crying and screaming in there now. And right now while I’m typing this I can see the reflection off the computer screen of some shadow behind me.

–
Retrieved from: http://sanctuary.prelucid.com/library/index.php?title=The_Smiling_Girl

Don’t Trust It

My father is a great man.

Fourteen years ago he was sent on a solo mission to be the first man ever to travel through a wormhole, located a massive distance from Earth. His return was unguaranteed, but he was prepared to make the sacrifice. I was twelve when he left our planet to explore the Great Unknown, not knowing when or if he would return. It took seven long years for his craft to reach the edge of the wormhole, and we prepared ourselves to never hear from him again.

Nine minutes after his spacecraft breached the wormhole a single message was received before transmission was cut: “Don’t trust it”. The cryptic message was dismissed as interference and I made peace with the fact that I was never to see him again.

That is, until five weeks later when the signal came back online. His ship had returned from beyond the wormhole and was traveling back towards Earth intact. Seven anxious years more, and his ship touched down in the ocean. I was already a grown man with a wife and a family, and it had been more than fourteen years since I saw him.

The cryo-sleep had slowed his aging, and he looked barely a day older than when he left. However, something seemed not right about him; he was not the man I remembered. His eyes had lost their spark, his mouth had lost its signature grin, his neck had lost its mole.

And I can’t stop thinking about the transmission, received seven painful years ago. “Don’t trust it”

My father was a great man,

But that thing is not my father.

–
Credits to: thinstick

Anonymous

I’m terrified of my grandparents’ house. Literally I refuse to go there. I’m 22 now and live in another state but I still get scared at the thought of my old bedroom.

When I was around 16 I lived with my grandparents. One afternoon we were watching TV (they live in a double wide trailer), the front door for no reason just opened as if someone was walking in. My papa (grandfather) jokingly said “come on in”.

Worst decision of his life. A couple days later my mimi (grandmother) started noticing things going missing. She would place her coffee cup in the morning on the island and then, in her words. the coffee cup would ‘disappear later to be found still hot’. My papa doesn’t believe in ghosts so we never really said anything about the odd misplacements.

Then I started to notice things. My bedroom wall which connects to the wall where the bathroom was would groan at night as if someone was pressing against it. I would have moments where I literally felt someone staring at me, which was obviously unsettling.

But it was never anything until I saw “it”. I was walking down the hallway to my room (the bathroom was the last door on your left and my room was straight ahead) and when I passed the bathroom, in the bathtub was what looked like to be a boy just sitting there. When I turned my head, nothing would be there, but once I’d noticed the boy, things got much more interesting.

I would wake up to breathing on my face and the feeling of getting pressed into the bed. Whispered voices telling me to “ LEAVE AND GET OUT”. The door would open and shut by itself. The handle at times would just rattle. The TV changing channels when no one was touching the controller.

I started sleeping at my mom’s. It wasn’t until my papa- the one guy who would talk himself blue with the fact that ghosts are not real- sat me down and told me what he was experiencing.

Late at night, he would be reading and he would hear footsteps from the very end of my hall all the way to his bedroom door (we have tiles throughout the house minus the rooms). He would call out to me, telling me to go back to bed and the footsteps would get loud and they would run back to my side of the house. Once my papa said he went to go check to see why I was up but I wasn’t home that night, and my papa said that my room felt so evil and that he was not welcome at all. My mimi has dolls, porcelain dolls by the dozen, and papa would tell me how the dolls would look like they were turning towards him and he would hear laughter and then footsteps leading back to my bedroom.

It may not seem like its terrifying to you but to a 16 year old who has never experienced anything of this magnitude was horrible. I moved in with my mother shortly after my papa told me that. When I speak to him on the phone sometimes he tells me that he is still hearing the footsteps at night and recently this “thing” has been knocking pictures and items off the walls and tables.

–
Credits to: http://kyliemoffett.tumblr.com/