Creepypasta Stories

Creepypasta Stories This page is to help keep Creepypasta alive since the stories are being deleted from the actual site

Our goal here at Creepypasta Stories is to ensure that the fans are able to keep reading their favourite stories ranging from well known stories such as Jeff The Killer to slightly less known stories like Growths. We also provide help for those in need and no bullying or abuse will be tolerated or you will be blocked from the page, everyone is welcome here and just remember: It's creativity, not r

eality and we live to scare but NOT to harm. Creepypastas are short horror stories, fanfiction or other media that are collected and shared across the Internet with the intent of frightening or unnerving the reader. The name is derived from the internet slang term "copy pasta", which refers to text that has been copied and pasted by users onto discussion boards multiple times. Creepypastas are similar to urban legends, although creepypastas do not always take the form of written text or spoken word; some consist of allegedly haunted images, videos, or games. Creepypastas come in a variety of styles, but some are particularly common. "Haunted image" creepypastas are fictional stories that include a picture that is said to haunt and torment the reader. "Lost episode" creepypastas are fictional stories about discarded or unused episodes of real shows, usually cartoons. Lost episodes are intended to unnerve the reader by deviating from the normative behaviour of characters, centring on death, and including "hyper-realistic" images of the characters in the show. "Ritual" creepypastas are fictional procedures to invoke entities or supernatural experiences.
~Admin Jeff

Admin note:

NONE OF THE STORIES ON THIS PAGE ARE TRUE, AND AS FOR THE ADMIN JEFF THING, IT IS JUST ME ROLEPLAYING AS HIM AS I AM JUST A NORMAL TEENAGE GIRL CALLED KATELYN SO NO, I AM NOT JEFF THE KILLER SO PLEASE DO NOT BELIEVE ANY OF THE STORIES ARE TRUE

04/23/2018

Built To Be Loved

I was built to be loved, and to give love in return. That was the sole intention with which my creator made me, so when my new mother brought me home to meet my new sister, my heart leaped with excitement at the thought of finally fulfilling my life's purpose.
"Jenny," said my new mother, "come here."
I watched eagerly as my new sister bounded into the kitchen. This beautiful angel with gold hair and sparkling eyes was Jenny. I loved her the instant I saw her. It delighted me that she and I were almost the same size, though I was a little smaller.
"What is it, Mom?" she asked.
"I picked something up for you in town today," said our mother. She gleefully presented me to young Jenny. "What do you think?"
Jenny's reaction was cooler than I'd hoped it would be. She stared at me for a moment and blinked. "It's a doll," she said.
"Yes," our mother said. "Do you like it?"
Jenny's lips curled into a smile, but the joy never quite reached her eyes. "Yes," she said. "She's beautiful. Thank you, Mommy." She took me in her arms, gave me a hug, and carried me off to the bedroom we would share. Maybe this will be fine after all, I thought to myself.
Jenny placed me in a chair in the corner of our bedroom. I expected that I would sit here whenever she wasn't playing with me. And then, I thought, once bedtime came, we would surely snuggle together beneath the covers of the big bed on the other side of the room. This was not to be, however, as days went by and Jenny never once took me from the chair. The most she would interact with me was to give me a suspicious glance from across the room. Sometimes, this glance was accompanied by a shudder. That confirmed it: my new sister didn't like me. I was devastated.
I decided I had to show her somehow that I was worthy of her affections. I needed her to know the love I was prepared to give her. So, one night, when the lights went out, and I was sure Jenny was asleep, I channeled every bit of focus and energy I had into my limbs of fabric and stuffing. After what felt like hours, to my excitement, they finally began to move. Yes, I had learned to control them. Clumsily, as this was all still new, I got down from the chair and made my way toward Jenny's bed. I had no idea before I started that moving would take so much energy! I managed to get only halfway across the room before I could go no further. It was there that I dropped, forced to wait until morning.
At last, the first rays of sunshine leaked into the room from beneath the window shade. Mother came to the door as she always did.
"Jenny, it's time to---" She stopped suddenly. "Jenny, what is your doll doing on the floor?"
"I don't know," Jenny said groggily. "I didn't put it there."
"Nonsense, Jenny," Mother said. "You need to take better care of your things, young lady."
"But I---"
Before Jenny could protest any further, Mother cut her off. "Not another word, Jenny. Come downstairs and eat your breakfast." She closed the door, leaving us alone once more.
Jenny got out of bed and slowly approached me where I lay. She moved with such trepidation, as if I were going to explode at any moment. At long last she picked me up. It was the first time she had done so since that first day of my adoption, and the sensation was sweet. It was short-lived, however, as a moment later, she placed me firmly back in the chair from which I'd come. She looked me over, not with suspicion this time, but with something like worry. Perhaps it was fear.
"Jenny, hurry up," Mother called from downstairs. Jenny snapped to attention and obeyed, hurrying quickly from the room.
I now understood, of course, that I was simply too weak, or too new to walking, to make the journey all the way across the room. The only thing to be done, I decided, was to practice. Each night, when I was sure Jenny had gone to bed, I would come down from my place and venture across the room. For the first few nights, whenever I felt my energy and strength leaving me, I would turn and try to get back to the chair with whatever I had left. Often, at first, I would simply collapse on the floor in front of or beneath the chair. In the mornings, when Jenny would discover me, I would be met with the same looks of confusion and concern. They never stopped feeling like rejection, but the pain I felt only made me more determined to show Jenny how worthy I was of her love.
Just as I had hoped, moving became easier and easier. Within two months, I could make it all the way to Jenny's bed. The first time she discovered me there on the floor beside her bed in the morning, she screamed, to my utter surprise. She didn't even pick me up, but instead ran from the room. Moments later, she returned with Mother.
"There," Jenny said, pointing at me where I lay.
"Jenny," said Mother, "don't be silly. Your doll just fell out of your bed while you were sleeping."
"But I didn't sleep with it," Jenny said. "I swear."
Mother smiled sweetly. "Jenny, it's okay to sleep with your doll if you want to. You don't need to make things up."
"But, I---"
"Now, that's enough," Mother said. "Pick up your doll and come downstairs for breakfast."
"I'm not touching her," Jenny snapped.
"Jennifer," Mother said firmly. "Stop acting up this instant. Pick up your doll right now."
Jenny looked defeated. She hesitated, and then slowly approached me. Mother watched as she slowly picked me up and placed me on the chair. "Thank you," she said. "Now come on, before your pancakes get cold."
I was left alone once again, stinging from the obvious dislike Jenny felt for me. I couldn't give up, though. I had to show her how loving and warm I could be, and I was very nearly there.
The next night, I could barely contain my excitement. I felt good. I felt ready. Deep down, I knew I could do this. As had become my habit, I hopped down from my chair and made my way across the room. Only when I reached Jenny’s bed did I begin to tire. I reached up, grabbed hold of the edge of Jenny's mattress, and hoisted myself up to where she slept.
At last, I was beside her, my sweet sister. This was where I had longed to be. I sat for a long time, just watching Jenny sleep. She looked so peaceful, her little chest rising and falling. The slightest hint of a snore issued forth on every exhale. The love and emotion coursing through me almost made me shake. It's the one and only dream of every creature like me to be loved and cherished by a little girl like Jenny. It's what we were made to do. Without that, we are nothing.
Now was my chance, I decided, to show Jenny how loving and comforting I could be. I inched slowly over to her face, the only part of her that lay exposed in a sea of blankets and pillows. I wrapped myself around her head in the tightest embrace I could manage. It felt wonderful to do so. I wish I could have spoken in that moment, because I would have shouted over and over again, "I love you, Jenny! I love you!"
I felt her begin to stir beneath my grasp. Her movements became more and more erratic. A hand reached up from the blanket and tried to pull me away. The harder she pulled the more steadfastly I held on. I had to show her that this was good. She needed to know that this was how things had to be. But still, she tried to free herself from my embrace. The grasping became clawing. She tried to sit up, but I wouldn't let her. Soon, her actions began to slow. He efforts became less and less urgent, until finally, all the tension seemed to leave her. This was what I had been dreaming of. She was no longer frightened of me. Acceptance at last.
Mother knocked on the door the next morning as she normally did, but Jenny did not stir. This was highly unusual, and I became worried when time passed, and my sister still hadn't moved. Mother came in, calling Jenny's name. Slowly, she approached the bed where we lay. I watched in confusion as Mother dropped to her knees. She let out a scream like no other I had ever heard. I knew something was wrong with Jenny.
That was the last time I saw my beautiful sister. I miss her every single day, but it's not all bad. I live in Mother's room now. She talks to me fairly often. "You, my little darling," she says. "You were the last gift I ever gave her. She must have loved you dearly, but she was afraid to let me know. Big girls don't sleep with dolls, I suppose." She follows this with a small, half-hearted laugh, and then begins crying once more, as has become her habit. Each night, however, she takes me to bed with her and holds me tight.
I was built to be loved, and to give love in return. That was the sole intention with which my creator made me. I wish I could have had that with Jenny for more than one night before she went away. However, it's clear that Mother needs me now, and I her, and together, we find love and comfort in each other.

04/23/2018

The Greatest Honor

I was raised in a very religious community. God and Christ are still at the very center of my life, and I live every day in service to Them. Praising Them still excites and ignites the very soul within me, although I must admit, some of the joy and magic I felt when I was much younger has left me. My devotion has not waned, I can assure you, but perhaps the dulling of such pleasure is just the natural---if tragic---effect of aging.
But, oh, how wonderful it was when I was a boy! Each year, my particular church would hold a very special service in honor of Good Friday. In preparation for this service, all young men below the age of thirteen had the opportunity to enter a contest---a kind of raffle, I suppose. The prize for the winning fellow was to perform a very special role in the upcoming ceremony. All of the boys from our entire community would practically froth at the mouth, waiting for the earliest possible moment when we could throw our hats into the ring. What spurred us on was much more than just the desire to win. It was the true and deep devotion that filled our young hearts. It was thrilling to be among such a crowd.
The Good Friday I remember best was that of my last eligible year. I was due to turn thirteen in June, and then I would never again be able to enter my name to take part in the service. I had entered every year before then since I turned nine, but had never once been selected. I remember holding my little ticket with the long number printed on it, hoping I would hear the pastor call it out.
My little brother, Frederick, had also entered the contest that year. I dare say, he was more excited than I was. When the pastor announced that it was time to select the special winner, I recall how Frederick jumped up out of his seat and cheered louder than anyone else.
"All right, gentlemen," said Pastor Francis. "Are you ready?"
We all cheered wildly. The pastor continued. "All right, now. Dale, would you bring me the basket?"
Dale, the pastor's wife, dutifully did as her husband asked. She held the basket full of tickets up, and Pastor Francis fished around, rather dramatically, for the winner. At last, he had made a selection.
"Here it is, folks. The winner, and very special participant in this year's Good Friday ceremony is whoever holds the ticket numbered six... four... three...."
As he read the numbers, I began to shake. So far, each number had perfectly matched my ticket! I listened intently as the pastor went on. "Five... eight... six!"
Groans erupted all around. "That's it, folks!" said Pastor Francis. "Who's got it? Who's got it? Where are ya?"
I could barely move. The winning number was right there, on my ticket! I wonder to this day if that wasn't the greatest moment of my life. I had never won anything before, and my eyes nearly filled with tears as the realization washed over me.
It was then that I turned to look at Frederick. His bowed head and downcast eyes left me with little doubt as to what he was feeling. My heart ached for him. I'd never seen him so disappointed. I knew in that moment that this was a divine test and, as difficult as it would be, I was determined to pass it.
Before Frederick could protest, I grabbed his ticket and switched it with mine. "Pastor!" I shouted. "The winner is right here! Over here!" I looked down at my little brother and smiled. He beamed up at me, the very picture of gratitude. I knew I'd made his Good Friday.
A moment later, he was headed up to stand with Pastor Francis. "Well, hello there, son," said the pastor. "Are you ready to perform the most important duty of this entire service?"
Pastor Francis held the microphone to my brother's mouth and, without hesitation, the boy said, "Yes, sir!"
"Hallelujah!" shouted Pastor Francis. "Let us begin!" As he spoke, four deacons came up behind him, carrying a wooden cross. "As I'm sure you all know," the pastor began, "on this day, the Lord our God sacrificed his only son so that we sinners might have a second chance at eternal life."
"Amen," came the staggered response from the faithful.

"Today, brothers and sisters," the pastor continued, "we renew that convenant right here. Yes, faithful, the Lord has chosen young Frederick to serve as a tangible, visible remembrance of the ultimate sacrifice that He Himself made nearly two thousand years ago. Let us remember, when we behold Frederick in his place above the pulpit over the next year, that God is good and His love is real."
"Today, brothers and sisters," the pastor continued, "we renew that covenant right here. Yes, faithful, the Lord has chosen young Frederick to serve as a tangible, visible remembrance of the ultimate sacrifice that He Himself made nearly two thousand years ago. Let us remember, when we behold Frederick in his place above the pulpit over the next year, that God is good and His love is real." om our entire community would practically froth at the mouth, waiting for the earliest possible moment when we could throw our hats into the ring. What spurred us on was much more than just the desire to win. It was the true and deep devotion that filled our young hearts. It was thrilling to be among such a crowd.

04/23/2018

Grandma's Coffin (Short Story)

Grandma was pronounced dead after a week in the hospital. She had been put into an induced coma after her heart began to fail. The monitor flatlined and they pulled a white sheet over her body after a minute of pushing on her chest trying to revive her. Mom and Dad both squeezed their son's hands and then rushed him out of the hospital room.
Her funeral was two days later, and Mom and Dad prayed over her closed casket. Twenty or so people sat through the service and then everyone flocked to the graveyard where Grandma was going to be buried. The Son stood in the back of the crowd as the coffin was lifted down into the six foot deep hole. None of this felt right to the Son. Sure, Grandma was old and was having heart problems, but why would she suddenly just up and die? It felt all wrong.
Dirt was thrown into the hole and the people started disappearing. Mom and Dad went back to the church to clean up and left their Son sitting in front of Grandma's freshly buried grave.
Grandma opened her eyes and began to cough. At the hospital, her heart had been beating so slowly that it was undetectable, and was pronounced dead when she truly wasn't. She had just come out of the induced coma. Everything was black around her. She could hardly breathe. She reached out and her hands barely moved before they hit something velvety and hard above her. She began screaming, her heart pounded and she choked and yelled. The Son heard noises from the ground and put his ear against the dirt. He heard screams. He began screaming himself and he started to dig up the loose dirt with his hands.
After a long while he uncovered the coffin and was greeted with silence. The sun had gone down and the only light was emitting from street lamps and lights from the church. He pulled the coffin open, wiped the tears off of his face with his dirty hands, and jumped back at the sight that he uncovered.
Grandma was in the coffin. Her arms were stiff and her fingers were bloody and broken as she had tried to scratch her way out. The top of the inside of the coffin was ripped apart. Her eyes and mouth were open wide and rigor mortis had taken over her entire body. She had died, really, from the lack of oxygen.

04/23/2018

Rap Rat

Ever heard of "Nightmare?" Like a lot of other games in the 90's, it came with a VHS which you timed with your play. The character on the video would give you instructions on what to do while you played the game in real-time. Being a scardy-cat, I refused to play it when my mom bought it for us. My brother was disappointed about not being able to play Nightmare, but my mom had a solution. She brought out "Rap Rat". It was a cheap, dingy little thing catered to kids my age; you went around the board, collected cheese, and the first player to reach the end would win. It seemed simple enough, and since it reminded us of "Mouse Trap" (which we didn't have), there were no objections. We popped the movie into the VHS and set up the board. The first part of the video was just a simple explanation of the rules as well as instructions on how the game worked.
Then, Rap Rat came onto the TV. He was... not what any of us had been expecting. My smaller brother, who was only three at the time, immediately left the room crying. The rat did not even resemble a rat. The ears were far too big. It had a mouth lined with two teeth, and the inside of the mouth looked almost swollen. The most striking part about the thing, though, was the eyes. They were large, glassy, and fish-like. I asked, then bothered, then begged my mom to turn it off. Rap Rat suddenly shouted loudly, screaming and wailing, saying "WAIT YOUR TURN" in a demonic, low-pitched voice that was not at all like his normal obnoxious, nasal voice. In the background, we could hear the narrator saying "He's Rap Rat, and he's the boss" over and over again in an overly serious tone.
The video was... indescribable. Images crossed the screen in quick succession, overcut with Rap Rat's expressionless eyes. The images were some of the things I was afraid of at the time. A person looking over a balcony, a hornet slowly stinging someone's eye, an extreme close-up of a tarantula, a pit full of writhing cobras, and a bloodied syringe filled with green fluid. We immediately turned the video off, and I ran out of the room screaming, slamming my door. It took my mom twenty minutes to convince me that the video was gone, that I would never, ever see it again. I had nightmares all week about Rap Rat.
That wasn't the last time I saw Rap Rat. While my girlfriend and I were preparing to move in together, I was cleaning out the closet of my room and found Rap Rat again, with the same VHS and the same board game inside. It was almost perfectly intact, save for a thick layer of cobwebs and dust bunnies on top of it. This was strange...didn't my mother get rid of it? And what was the game doing in my room? I let out a bit of a gasp when I found it, and my girlfriend came into the room, asking what was the matter: Breathing harshly, I said, "Rap Rat." She laughed a bit, asking if it was a joke. I shook my head, explaining that it wasn't. She didn't believe me—nobody did—and I decided that the only way to prove it to her was to show her the video.
I borrowed my neighbour's VHS and played the video for her. However, the images had changed. I saw a clown, it's nose bursting and spraying blood onto the screen. I saw a woman alone in a dark room. I saw a man being forced to pick up white-hot metal and hold it in his outstretched hand, turning his hand to a leathery mess. The scratching I heard as a child continued, picking up louder and louder. Then, Rap Rat showed up and began twisting and convulsing, it's arms thrusting this way and that. The costume wasn't a costume anymore—the felt was real fur.
Its face wasn't plastic, but instead a bristle of thorns with teeth. The eyes turned inwards and suddenly popped out again: Rap Rat's huge fish eyes were inside out, staring right at me, watching my every move, my every expression. It grinned widely and gestured at my girlfriend and I with a single, outstretched, inhuman hand. I could hear the faintest scratching at my front door. The TV went blank and showed static. The scratching got louder. It wasn't scratching anymore, but thumping: the thumping of tiny feet on wood. My girlfriend embraced me in fear, and my senses kicked in. Before anything else could happen, I stopped the video, ejected it and unplugged the VHS. The scratching stopped. When I looked out the living room window, nothing was there.
The police showed up soon after, warning us that a neighbour had seen a figure outside of our door and had called in concern. My girlfriend and I simply couldn't explain what had happened, and had to tell the police officer that it was us. I was furious that a children's game was terrifying me. I went to pick up the tape, but the VHS burned my hand. It felt like I had touched a bunsen burner on the highest setting. We had to get the oven mitts from the kitchen in order to take it out, and even then it was scorching hot. I brought it outside, tossed it down on the sidewalk, and crushed it with my winter boots.
My girlfriend and I had nightmares every night. We would both wake up in the middle of the night, and describe eerily similar images that we saw in our sleep. The scratching would always be there at night, when lights were off and the room was pitch-black (save for the moonlight coming in through the window). Now, though, the scratching would happen every time I went near the front door, and every time we said Rap Rat's name. It sounded as if something very small was dragging something across the ground outside of the door... pacing... waiting. I would simply wait, with the covers pulled up to my neck, until I succumbed to exhaustion.
At this point, I was determined to sue the company for damages. The first thing I did was call my mother and ask where she got "Rap Rat". She had no idea. I found a merchant who sold versions of "Rap Rat" and asked how I could get in touch with the company. He sent me this e-mail.
"I don't know about the game, but I know it was created by the same people who created Nightmare. The company is called "A Couple of Cowboys". Try them."
I did a bit more research, and discovered that the company became defunct in 1994... only two years after the company created Rap Rat. I discovered why they did soon after.
How Rap Rat Came to Be
In 1992, the year of the game's development, A Couple of Cowboys had commissioned a manufacturing company in Haiti to create the doll portrayed in the game. The company who created the puppet ran a sweatshop, where they forced women and children to produce the various components of the puppet, including the felt and plastic of the doll.
One day, a young Haitian girl got her arm caught in the industrial sewing machine. The spring-loader, unable to handle the weight on the machine, came loose and struck the child's neck, killing her instantly. A few days after the funeral, the mother of the child came to the factory, demanding to see the owner, who denied that he had anything to do with it. In a fit of rage, the mother said that the "blood from the innocent" would seep into every crevice of the doll, every component with which it was created and all who touched it would die. She claimed to have summoned a "fear demon" and screamed, at the top of her lungs, "APARAT WILL CURSE YOU!"
The owner simply laughed and told his corporate bosses about Aparat. They spread the joke from person to person, and the game was renamed "Rap Rat", a loose anagram of Aparat. Each recitation of the name Aparat brought with it a greater and greater curse. Only two years after "Rap Rat" was created, the company was shut down and the owners hired by Mattel.
There were stories of the workers begging for days off, skipping work for weeks and weeks, finding the puppet in strange places. Sooner were the stories of su***des. Grim, violent su***des in which the workers would stab their hands and burn themselves to death, writing "I AM FEAR" on the nearest surface in blood.
Nobody knows where the Rap Rat doll went after the original creators disappeared. Some say that the last things the victims saw before going insane were large, sunken, fish-like eyes.
Words of Warning
1. NEVER, EVER say "Aparat" out loud. Saying a demon's name out-loud is an invitation to them, a calling. If you have already done this, it cannot be undone.
2. Do not try to speak to or contact Aparat.
3. Avoid being awake between 3:30am and 4am, when Rap Rat is the most likely to try to scare you.
The Audio
The VHS is back. I thought I stomped on it, smashed it to kingdom come, but it's back. I found it in my sock drawer yesterday.
This time, I was ready. A whole bunch of people have been contacting me, trying to get the tape or some sort of video from the board game. My answer to you is that it's just too dangerous. If I did that, it could very well drive you insane. Scare you to death. The video, and the game, and Rap Rat itself has some sort of strange power. Rap Rat follows me everywhere I go. I see little shadows in the corner, or hear sounds coming down the hallway when I'm the only one home. If Rap Rat is there, it will let you know, but it will never let you see it...until it's too late, of course.
A lot of people have been watching the "normal" video from the "normal" board game. That's the thing...Rap Rat can be normal. It will trick you into thinking it's just a puppet, and then stalk you day and night.

04/22/2018

No End House (Long Story and Admin Favourite)

Let me start by saying that Peter Terry was addicted to he**in.

We were friends in college and continued to be after I graduated. Notice that I said "I". He dropped out after two years of barely cutting it. After I moved out of the dorms and into a small apartment, I didn't see Peter as much. We would talk online every now and then (AIM was king in pre-Facebook years). There was a period where he wasn't online for about five weeks straight. I wasn't worried. He was a pretty notorious flake and drug addict, so I assumed he just stopped caring. Then one night I saw him log on. Before I could initiate a conversation, he sent me a message.

"David, man, we need to talk."

That was when he told me about the NoEnd House. It got that name because no one had ever reached the final exit. The rules were pretty simple and cliche: reach the final room of the building and you win $500. There were nine rooms in all. The house was located outside the city, roughly four miles from my house. Apparently Peter had tried and failed. He was a he**in and who-knows-what-the-f**k addict, so I figured the drugs got the best of him and he wigged out at a paper ghost or something. He told me it would be too much for anyone. That it was unnatural.

I didn't believe him. I told him I would check it out the next night and no matter how hard he tried to convince me otherwise, $500 sounded too good to be true. I had to go. I set out the following night.

When I arrived, I immediately noticed something strange about the building. Have you ever seen or read something that shouldn't be scary, but for some reason a chill crawls up your spine? I walked toward the building and the feeling of uneasiness only intensified as I opened the front door.

My heart slowed and I let a relieved sigh leave me as I entered. The room looked like a normal hotel lobby decorated for Halloween. A sign was posted in place of a worker. It read, "Room 1 this way. Eight more follow. Reach the end and you win!" I chuckled and made my way to the first door.

The first area was almost laughable. The decor resembled the Halloween aisle of a K-Mart, complete with sheet ghosts and animatronic zombies that gave a static growl when you passed by. At the far end was an exit; it was the only door besides the one I entered through. I brushed through the fake spider webs and headed for the second room.

I was greeted by fog as I opened the door to room two. The room definitely upped the ante in terms of technology. Not only was there a fog machine, but a bat hung from the ceiling and flew in a circle. Scary. They seemed to have a Halloween soundtrack that one would find in a 99 cent store on loop somewhere in the room. I didn't see a stereo, but I guessed they must have used a PA system. I stepped over a few toy rats that wheeled around and walked with a puffed chest across to the next area.

I reached for the doork**b and my heart sank to my knees. I did not want to open that door. A feeling of dread hit me so hard I could barely even think. Logic overtook me after a few terrified moments, and I shook it off and entered the next room.

Room three is when things began to change.

On the surface, it looked like a normal room. There was a chair in the middle of the wood paneled floor. A single lamp in the corner did a poor job of lighting the area, casting a few shadows across the floor and walls. That was the problem. Shadows. Plural.

With the exception of the chair's, there were others. I had barely walked in the door and I was already terrified. It was at that moment that I knew something wasn't right. I didn't even think as I automatically tried to open the door I came through. It was locked from the other side.

That set me off. Was someone locking the doors as I progressed? There was no way. I would have heard them. Was it a mechanical lock that set automatically? Maybe. But I was too scared to really think. I turned back to the room and the shadows were gone. The chair's shadow remained, but the others were gone. I slowly began to walk. I used to hallucinate when I was a kid, so I wrote off the shadows as a figment of my imagination. I began to feel better as I made it to the halfway point of the room. I looked down as I took my steps and that's when I saw it.

Or didn't see it. My shadow wasn't there. I didn't have time to scream. I ran as fast as I could to the other door and flung myself without thinking into the room beyond.

The fourth room was possibly the most disturbing. As I closed the door, all light seemed to be sucked out and put back into the previous room. I stood there, surrounded by darkness, not able to move. I'm not afraid of the dark and never have been, but I was absolutely terrified. All sight had left me. I held my hand in front of my face and if I didn't know what I was doing, I would never have been able to tell. Darkness doesn't describe it. I couldn't hear anything. It was dead silence. When you're in a sound-proof room, you can still hear yourself breathing. You can hear yourself being alive.

I couldn't.

I began to stumble forward after a few moments, my rapidly beating heart the only thing I could feel. There was no door in sight. Wasn't even sure there was one this time. The silence was then broken by a low hum.

I felt something behind me. I spun around wildly but could barely even see my nose. I knew it was there, though. Regardless of how dark it was, I knew something was there. The hum grew louder, closer. It seemed to surround me, but I knew whatever was causing the noise was in front of me, inching closer. I took a step back; I had never felt that kind of fear. I can't really describe true fear. I wasn't even scared I was going to die; I was scared of what the alternative was. I was afraid of what this thing had in store for me. Then the lights flashed for a second and I saw it.

Nothing. I saw nothing and I know I saw nothing there. The room was again plunged into darkness and the hum became a wild screech. I screamed in protest; I couldn't hear this goddamn sound for another minute. I ran backwards, away from the noise, and fumbled for the door handle. I turned and fell into room five.

Before I describe room five, you have to understand something. I am not a drug addict. I have had no history of drug abuse or any sort of psychosis short of the childhood hallucinations I mentioned earlier, and those were only when I was really tired or just waking up. I entered the NoEnd House with a clear head.

After falling in from the previous room, my view of room five was from my back, looking up at the ceiling. What I saw didn't scare me; it simply surprised me. Trees had grown into the room and towered above my head. The ceilings in this room were taller than the others, which made me think I was in the center of the house. I got up off the floor, dusted myself off, and took a look around. It was definitely the biggest room of them all. I couldn't even see the door from where I was; various brush and trees must have blocked my line of sight with the exit.

Up to this point, I figured the rooms were going to get scarier, but this was a paradise compared to the last room. I also assumed whatever was in room four stayed back there. I was incredibly wrong.

As I made my way deeper into the room, I began to hear what one would hear if they were in a forest; chirping bugs and the occasional flap of birds seemed to be my only company in this room. That was the thing that bothered me the most. I heard the bugs and other animals, but I didn't see any of them. I began to wonder how big this house was. From the outside when I first walked up to it, it looked like a regular house. It was definitely on the bigger side, but this was almost a full forest in here. The canopy covered my view of the ceiling, but I assumed it was still there, however high it was. I couldn't see any walls, either. The only way I knew I was still inside was that the floor matched the other rooms: the standard dark wood paneling.

I kept walking, hoping that the next tree I passed would reveal the door. After a few moments of walking, I felt a mosquito fly onto my arm. I shook it off and kept going. A second later, I felt about ten more land on my skin at different places. I felt them crawl up and down my arms and legs and a few made their way across my face. I flailed wildly to get them all off but they just kept crawling. I looked down and let out a muffled scream - more of a whimper, to be honest. I didn't see a single bug. Not one bug was on me, but I could feel them crawl. I heard them fly by my face and sting my skin but I couldn't see a single one. I dropped to the ground and began to roll wildly. I was desperate. I hated bugs, especially ones I couldn't see or touch. But these bugs could touch me and they were everywhere.

I began to crawl. I had no idea where I was going; the entrance was nowhere in sight and I still hadn't even seen the exit. So I just crawled, my skin wriggling with the presence of those phantom bugs. After what seemed like hours, I found the door. I grabbed the nearest tree and propped myself up, mindlessly slapping my arms and legs to no avail. I tried to run, but I couldn't; my body was exhausted from crawling and dealing with whatever it was that was on me. I took a few shaky steps to the door, grabbing each tree on the way for support.

It was only a few feet away when I heard it. The low hum from before. It was coming from the next room and it was deeper. I could almost feel it inside my body, like when you stand next to an amp at a concert. The feeling of the bugs on me lessened as the hum grew louder. As I placed my hand on the doork**b, the bugs were completely gone but I couldn't bring myself to turn the k**b. I knew that if I let go, the bugs would return and there was no way I would make it back to room four. I just stood there, my head pressed against the door marked six and my hand shakily grasping the k**b. The hum was so loud I couldn't even hear myself pretend to think. There was nothing I could do but move on. Room six was next, and room six was Hell.

I closed the door behind me, my eyes held shut and my ears ringing. The hum was surrounding me. As the door clicked into place, the hum was gone. I opened my eyes in surprise and the door I had shut was gone. It was just a wall now. I looked around in shock. The room was identical to room three - the same chair and lamp - but with the correct amount of shadows this time. The only real difference was that there was no exit door and the one I came in through was gone. As I said before, I had no previous issues in terms of mental instability, but at that moment I fell into what I now know was insanity. I didn't scream. I didn't make a sound.

At first I scratched softly. The wall was tough, but I knew the door was there somewhere. I just knew it was. I scratched at where the doork**b was. I clawed at the wall frantically with both hands, my nails being filed down to the skin against the wood. I fell silently to my knees, the only sound in the room the incessant scratching against the wall. I knew it was there. The door was there, I knew it was just there. I knew if I could just get past this wall -

"Are you alright?"

I jumped off the ground and spun in one motion. I leaned against the wall behind me and I saw what it was that spoke to me; to this day I regret ever turning around.

There was a little girl. She was wearing a soft, white dress that went down to her ankles. She had long blonde hair to the middle of her back and white skin and blue eyes. She was the most frightening thing I had ever seen, and I know that nothing in my life will ever be as unnerving as what I saw in her. While looking at her, I saw something else. Where she stood I saw what looked like a man's body, only larger than normal and covered in hair. He was naked from head to toe, but his head was not human and his toes were hooves. It wasn't the Devil, but at that moment it might as well have been. The form had the head of a ram and the snout of a wolf.

It was horrifying and it was synonymous with the little girl in front of me. They were the same form. I can't really describe it, but I saw them at the same time. They shared the same spot in that room, but it was like looking at two separate dimensions. When I saw the girl I saw the form, and when I saw the form I saw the girl. I couldn't speak. I could barely even see. My mind was revolting against what it was attempting to process. I had been scared before in my life and I had never been more scared than when I was trapped in the fourth room, but that was before room six. I just stood there, staring at whatever it was that spoke to me. There was no exit. I was trapped here with it. And then it spoke again.

"David, you should have listened."

When it spoke, I heard the words of the little girl, but the other form spoke through my mind in a voice I won't attempt to describe. There was no other sound. The voice just kept repeating that sentence over and over in my mind and I agreed. I didn't know what to do. I was slipping into madness, yet couldn't take my eyes off what was in front of me. I dropped to the floor. I thought I had passed out, but the room wouldn't let me. I just wanted it to end. I was on my side, my eyes wide open and the form staring down at me. Scurrying across the floor in front of me was one of the battery-powered rats from the second room.

The house was toying with me. But for some reason, seeing that rat pulled my mind back from whatever depths it was headed and I looked around the room. I was getting out of there. I was determined to get out of that house and live and never think about this place again. I knew this room was Hell and I wasn't ready to take up a residency. At first, it was just my eyes that moved. I searched the walls for any kind of opening. The room wasn't that big, so it didn't take long to soak up the entire layout. The demon still taunted me, the voice growing louder as the form stayed rooted where it stood. I placed my hand on the floor, lifted myself up to all four and turned to scan the wall behind me.

Then I saw something I couldn't believe. The form was now right at my back, whispering into my mind how I shouldn't have come. I felt its breath on the back of my neck, but I refused to turn around. A large rectangle was scratched into the wood, with a small dent chipped away in the center of it. Right in front of my eyes I saw the large seven I had mindlessly etched into the wall. I knew what it was: room seven was just beyond that wall where room five was moments ago.

I don't know how I had done it - maybe it was just my state of mind at the time - but I had created the door. I knew I had. In my madness, I had scratched into the wall what I needed the most: an exit to the next room. Room seven was close. I knew the demon was right behind me, but for some reason it couldn't touch me. I closed my eyes and placed both hands on the large seven in front of me. I pushed. I pushed as hard as I could. The demon was now screaming in my ear. It told me I was never leaving. It told me that this was the end but I wasn't going to die; I was going to live there in room six with it. I wasn't. I pushed and screamed at the top of my lungs. I knew I was going to push through the wall eventually.

I clenched my eyes shut and screamed, and the demon was gone. I was left in silence. I turned around slowly and was greeted by the room as it was when I entered: just a chair and a lamp. I couldn't believe it, but I didn't have time to well. I turned back to the seven and jumped back slightly. What I saw was a door. It wasn't the one I had scratched in, but a regular door with a large seven on it. My whole body was shaking. It took me a while to turn the k**b. I just stood there for a while, staring at the door. I couldn't stay in room six. I couldn't. But if this was only room six, I couldn't imagine was seven had in store. I must have stood there for an hour, just staring at the seven. Finally, with a deep breath, I twisted the k**b and opened the door to room seven.

I stumbled through the door mentally exhausted and physically weak. The door behind me closed and I realized where I was. I was outside. Not outside like room five, but actually outside. My eyes stung. I wanted to cry. I fell to my knees and tried but I couldn't. I was finally out of that hell. I didn't even care about the prize that was promised. I turned and saw that the door I just went through was the entrance. I walked to my car and drove home, thinking of how nice a shower sounded.

As I pulled up to my house, I felt uneasy. The joy of leaving NoEnd House had faded and dread was slowly building in my stomach. I shook it off as residual from the house and made my way to the front door. I entered and immediately went up to my room. There on my bed was my cat, Baskerville. He was the first living thing I had seen all night and I reached to pet him. He hissed and swiped at my hand. I recoiled in shock, as he had never acted like that. I thought, "Whatever, he's an old cat." I jumped in the shower and got ready for what I was expecting to be a sleepless night.

After my shower, I went to the kitchen to make something to eat. I descended the stairs and turned into the family room; what I saw would be forever burned into my mind, however. My parents were lying on the ground, naked and covered in blood. They were mutilated to near-unidentifiable states. Their limbs were removed and placed next to their bodies, and their heads were placed on their chests facing me. The most unsettling part was their expressions. They were smiling, as though they were happy to see me. I vomited and sobbed there in the family room. I didn't know what had happened; they didn't even live with me at the time. I was a mess. Then I saw it: a door that was never there before. A door with a large eight scrawled on it in blood.

I was still in the house. I was standing in my family room but I was in room seven. The faces of my parents smiled wider as I realized this. They weren't my parents; they couldn't be, but they looked exactly like them. The door marked eight was across the room, behind the mutilated bodies in front of me. I knew I had to move on, but at that moment I gave up. The smiling faces tore into my mind; they grounded me where I stood. I vomited again and nearly collapsed. Then the hum returned. It was louder than ever and it filled the house and shook the walls. The hum compelled me to walk.

I began to walk slowly, making my way closer to the door and the bodies. I could barely stand, let alone walk, and the closer I got to my parents the closer I came to su***de. The walls were now shaking so hard it seemed as though they were going to crumble, but still the faces smiled at me. As I inched closer, their eyes followed me. I was now between the two bodies, a few feet away from the door. The dismembered hands clawed their way across the carpet towards me, all while the faces continued to stare. New terror washed over me and I walked faster. I didn't want to hear them speak. I didn't want the voices to match those of my parents. They began to open their mouths and the hands were inches from my feet. In a dash of desperation, I lunged toward the door, threw it open, and slammed it behind me. Room eight.

I was done. After what I had just experienced, I knew there wasn't anything else this fu***ng house could throw at me that I couldn't live through. There was nothing short of the fires of Hell that I wasn't ready for. Unfortunately, I underestimated the abilities of NoEnd House. Unfortunately, things got more disturbing, more terrifying, and more unspeakable in room eight.

I still have trouble believing what I saw in room eight. Again, the room was a carbon copy of rooms three and six, but sitting in the usually empty chair was a man. After a few seconds of disbelief, my mind finally accepted the fact that the man sitting in the chair was me. Not someone who looked like me; it was David Williams. I walked closer. I had to get a better look even though I was sure of it. He looked up at me and I noticed tears in his eyes.

"Please... please, don't do it. Please, don't hurt me."

"What?" I asked. "Who are you? I'm not going to hurt you."

"Yes you are..." He was sobbing now. "You're going to hurt me and I don't want you to." He sat in the chair with his legs up and began rocking back and forth. It was actually pretty pathetic looking, especially since he was me, identical in every way.

"Listen, who are you?" I was now only a few feet from my doppelgänger. It was the weirdest experience yet, standing there talking to myself. I wasn't scared, but I would be soon. "Why are you-"

"You're going to hurt me you're going to hurt me if you want to leave you're going to hurt me."

"Why are you saying this? Just calm down, alright? Let's try and figure this-" And then I saw it. The David sitting down was wearing the same clothes as me, except for a small red patch on his shirt embroidered with the number nine.

"You're going to hurt me you're going to hurt me don't please you're going to hurt me..."

My eyes didn't leave that small number on his chest. I knew exactly what it was. The first few doors were plain and simple, but after a while they got a little more ambiguous. Seven was scratched into the wall, but by my own hands. Eight was marked in blood above the bodies of my parents. But nine - this number was on a person, a living person. Worse still, it was on a person that looked exactly like me.

"David?" I had to ask.

"Yes... you're going to hurt me you're going to hurt me..." He continued to sob and rock.

He answered to David. He was me, right down to the voice. But that nine. I paced around for a few minutes while he sobbed in his chair. The room had no door and, similarly to room six, the door I came through was gone. For some reason, I assumed that scratching would get me nowhere this time. I studied the walls and floor around the chair, sticking my head underneath and seeing if anything was below. Unfortunately, there was. Below the chair was a knife. Attached was a tag that read, "To David - From Management."

The feeling in my stomach as I read that tag was something sinister. I wanted to throw up and the last thing I wanted to do was remove that knife from under that chair. The other David was still sobbing uncontrollably. My mind was spinning into an attic of unanswerable questions. Who put this here and how did they get my name? Not to mention the fact that as I knelt on the cold wood floor I also sat in that chair, sobbing in protest of being hurt by myself. It was all too much to process. The house and the management had been playing with me this whole time. My thoughts for some reason turned to Peter and whether or not he got this far. If he did, if he met a Peter Terry sobbing in this very chair, rocking back and forth... I shook those thoughts out of my head; they didn't matter. I took the knife from under the chair and immidately the other David went quiet.

"David," He said in my voice, "What do you think you're going to do?"

I lifted myself from the ground and clenched the knife in my hand.

"I'm going to get out of here."

David was still sitting in the chair, though he was very calm now. He looked up at me with a slight grin. I couldn't tell if he was going to laugh or strangle me. Slowly, he got up from the chair and stood, facing me. It was uncanny. His height and even the way he stood matched mine. I felt the rubber hilt of the knife in my hand and gripped it tighter. I don't know what I was planning on doing with it, but I had a feeling I was going to need it.

"Now," his voice was slightly deeper than my own. "I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to hurt you and I'm going to keep you here." I didn't respond. I just lunged and tackled him to the ground. I had mounted him and looked down, knife poised and ready. He looked up at me, terrified. It was like I was looking in a mirror. Then the hum returned, low and distant, though I still felt it deep in my body. David looked up at me as I looked down at myself. The hum was getting louder and I felt something inside me snap. With one motion, I slammed the knife into the patch on his chest and ripped down. Blackness fell on the room and I was falling.

The darkness around me was like nothing I had experienced up to that point. Room four was dark, but it didn't come close to what was completely engulfing me. I wasn't even sure if I was falling after a while. I felt weightless, covered in dark. Then a deep sadness came over me. I felt lost, depressed, and suicidal. The sight of my parents entered my mind. I knew it wasn't real, but I had seen it and the mind has trouble differentiating between what is real and what isn't. The sadness only deepened. I was in room nine for what seemed like days. The final room. And that's exactly what it was: the end. NoEnd House had an end and I had reached it. At that moment, I gave up. I knew I would be in that in-between state forever, accompanied by nothing but darkness. Not even the hum was there to keep me sane.

I had lost all senses. I couldn't feel myself. I couldn't hear anything. Sight was completely useless here. I searched for a taste in my mouth and found nothing. I felt disembodied and completely lost. I knew where I was. This was Hell. Room nine was Hell. Then it happened. A light. One of those stereotypical lights at the end of the tunnel. I felt ground come up from below me and I was standing. After a moment or two of gathering my thoughts and senses, I slowly walked toward that light.

As I approached the light, it took form. It was a vertical slit down the side of an unmarked door. I slowly walked through the door and found myself back where I started: the lobby of NoEnd House. It was exactly how I left it: still empty, still decorated with childish Halloween decorations. After everything that had happened that night, I was still wary of where I was. After a few moments of normalcy, I looked around the place trying to find anything different. On the desk was a plain white envelope with my name handwritten on it. Immensely curious, yet still cautious, I mustered up the courage to open the envelope. Inside was a letter, again handwritten.

David Williams,

Congratulations! You have made it to the end of NoEnd House! Please accept this prize as a token of great achievement.

Yours forever,
Management.

With the letter were five $100 bills.

I couldn't stop laughing. I laughed for what seemed like hours. I laughed as I walked out to my car and laughed as I drove home. I laughed as I pulled into my driveway. I laughed as I opened my front door to my house and laughed as I saw the small ten etched into the wood.

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The Woods Of Marlton, MD
20772

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