Category: Creepypasta

Mr. Thimble Thumbs

By Exquisite Corpse

Mr. Thimble fingers was always there for me as a kid. I would always play with him in the back yard of our small house. Mr. Thimble fingers got his name because he had thimbles where his fingers should be. The kind of thimble you would use to sew. He was always at my heel but no one was ever able to see him. That would always bug me. But as time grew on, I quickly forgot about poor old Mr. Thimble fingers. Years had past until one day I say him again. He was sitting on the countetop,dangling his legs like he was an impatient child. I ignored him and carried on with my day.


Is That.. A Tongue?

By Jamar Lorenzo

I remember it all like it happened yesterday, or either hours ago.

It all started on a weekend at a school dance. So I went to the dance alone since i wasn’t asked by anyone. I don’t know, something in me tells me I should still go to the dance to watch others have fun and wish for myself to be in their shoes for some odd reason. I walked around, passing through crowds of people to find an open spot where i can get a view of everyone. I ended up finding a table, and sat there for about 10 minutes until I was tapped on my shoulder.


The Dark

By ShadoLady

It’s raining.

It’s raining and dark. So dark it has a presence. Strange, though, I can see the rain. There is such wetness and so much dark, seemingly borderless. Who knew it could weigh so much? Just standing there, in its midst, in its totality. Walking, I notice there is no sound of my boots sloshing through water, mud and leaves. Nor are my boots wet, just my environment.

Even my hair is dry. Rain sound is consistant, heavy, not blinding but hindering. Advancing; noticing the saturating smell of wet. Everything looks the same in every direction but up; which is filled with dark water drops, and down; which shows me only the result of the combined forces of earth and water slowly merged and twisted. No other sensation.


Blood Sport

By LoneRanger

There was nothing; all was still, as if frozen in time, and even the silence was powerfully empty. The woods were under a spell, even the trees were in a trance as they loomed in around us, and I dared not break it’s hold…for at that moment, I was certain that it was that terrifying, fragile spell that was all keeping me alive.

Keeping us apart.

And yet it drew us even closer. He was out there, somewhere, as aware of my presence as I was of his. I could neither see nor hear him, nor anything, but through the damp foliage and I could feel his gaze burning into me, searing my flesh and driving into me like a cold knife. It was literally always in the back of my mind, and I was frantic to move and get away…yet terrified to as well.


A Friend in the Closet

By Wyatt H.

New York City, not a place for a six year old girl. So me and my beautiful daughter Alyse moved to Grover Beach in California. The house was small, old, and the yellow paint was chipping away. And it was very, very cheap. But I was soon to find out why. By 6 o’clock the house was set up and me and Alyse were tired. And by 8 Alyse was in her white night gown, her brown hair was resting on her shoulders, eyes closed. So with Alyse fast asleep I decided to watch some t.v.


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