Omayra Sanchez

The Sallow Man

“Have you ever heard of The Sallow Man?”, That’s what Timmy Morrison asked me in seventh grade. Timmy was my best friend. We did nearly everything together. It was Friday, and we were sitting in lunch period discussing what we were going to do when he came over to stay the night after school. “No, what the hell is that?” I asked him, rolling my eyes because I figured this was going to be another one of Timmy’s story’s that his sister told him. Timmy’s face put on that he’d always put on when he was talking about something that someone hadn’t heard of before. “My sister told me about him, she said he comes to you if you say some words in front of a mirror, I don’t remember it all but I wrote down what she told me. I figured we could try it out at your house.” I rolled my eyes to make it seem like I thought it was childish, but in truth I was interested. Creepy stuff like that always interested me, even though I knew it wasn’t real, I just liked hearing the stories. I didn’t want Timmy to know that I wanted to hear about it though, because then he’d just have something to be smug about. “Is this just more of that ‘Bloody Mary’ crap where she just comes out of the mirror to kill you?” I asked him, pretending to pay attention more to my mashed potatoes than the conversation. “NO! The Sallow Man comes out of the mirror after you recite his poem, then he kills anyone you ask him to, that’s what my sister said anyway.”, Timmy said as he turned to eat at his own tray. ‘There was a poem involved?’ I thought. Now, I really did have to know more. “What do you mean, what poem?” I asked him. Timmy lazily reached into one of his many folders that he carried around for school and pulled out a piece of paper that was a bit crinkled. He slid it over to me on the cafeteria table, and I examined it without picking it up. This is what it read. In dark halls within the after, From those halls you hear my laughter. Dark thoughts entreat your mind, To for now break down my bind. I will take what ails you in this land, And I will leave no trace, for I am Sallow Man. I nearly laughed as I read the last lines. I was up for anything spooky sure, but this was really corny. “Timmy, you don’t really believe this crap do you? Your sister was probably just messing with you.” Timmy didn’t say anything at first, he just concentrated on his tray for a moment, then he said, “Brandon, do you remember last year when my parents were fighting a lot? My Dad was drinking all the time and I stayed over at your house nearly every night for a while?” Of course I remembered that, Timmy WAS over at my house every night. My parents allowed it because they knew what was going on. It was a small town, everyone did. “Yeah Tim, I remember.” I said, the mood now solemn. “My Dad hit my Mom a lot, and whenever me or my sister was home he would call me a bastard and he would call my sister a whore. It was a nightmare.” I could sense Timmy’s gaze turn towards me so I looked up from my tray as well. He stared at me for a moment, waiting for me to say something, so I did. “I thought your Dad stopped drinking though, and everything was okay?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Timmy responded then, with anger starting to edge into his voice. “Yeah, he stopped drinking, but nothing got better. Sure he stopped hitting Mom, but she barely speaks to him or anyone else in the house anymore. I know it’s because of him, I know she’s still afraid of him.” I was a bit shocked, Timmy had never mentioned anything about that before. I just figured once Timmy started staying at his house again everything was fine. “So what, are you going to sic the Sallow Man on your Dad? Timmy that’s nuts. It’s just some story that your sister probably heard from one of the other seniors.” I told him. “But what if there’s a chance it would work? I need to try Brandon, but I want you to be with me.” Timmy looked dead serious. “I don’t know Tim; it just seems silly” I told him. “Please Brandon, I need you there, please.” Timmy gave me a look of pure desperation, and I felt sorry for him. I decided that I’d be there to support him. He lived in a broken home, and he was grasping at straws. I knew it couldn’t be good for him, but he was my best friend, what choice did I have? “Okay Tim, I got your back. Let’s summon a ghost.” The next thing I knew, it was after school, and Timmy and I had locked ourselves in my small downstairs bathroom at home. “Do the lights need to be off or anything?” I asked. “No, at least I don’t think so. I think all I have to do is recite the poem in front of the mirror, and then he appears.” Timmy pulled out the piece of paper with the poem on it that he had in his back pocket, then cleared his throat. I stood back and leaned against the wall with my arms crossed. Usually when people did this sort of thing it was in the dark, maybe with a lit candle or two. But the lights were on, and the floral wall paper that was all around my bathroom didn’t exactly inspire fear, so I felt pretty stupid in that bathroom with Timmy. I was just thankful Mom and Dad were still at work so they didn’t catch us and wonder what was wrong with their son. Timmy finally began to speak after what seemed like minutes. “In dark halls within the after, From those halls you hear my laughter. Dark thoughts entreat your mind, To for now break down my bind. I will take what ails you in this land, And I will leave no trace, for I am Sallow Man.” Timmy spoke loudly and clearly. When he finished, he held his breath, waiting for something to happen. At that point I was absolutely convinced Timmy was wasting his time, I sighed and closed my eyes waiting for him to realize the same thing. I heard him gasp, which I took to be a sound of defeat. I opened my eyes and was about to console Timmy, but then I saw the real reason he had made a sound. When I opened up my eyes, I saw the mirror no longer showed our reflections, but a long dark hallway. The hallway’s floor, walls, and even its ceiling seemed to be moving, Undulating back and forth like the insides of some giant worm. The hallway was poorly lit by some unseen source, and at the very end of it I could see the shape of what looked like a man moving toward the mirror. For a moment, I was stuck in disbelief. I couldn’t move, I could only watch as the figure in the mirror came closer and slowly, its features became clearer and clearer. It was a man, or what seemed to be a man, bald and completely naked. His skin was a pale, sickly yellow. He was skinny, so emaciated that his jaundiced skin was taut against his skeleton, and every one of his ribs were visible. With thin and lanky legs, he walked ever closer to the mirror with a shambling gait. His long, ghoulish arms dragged his knuckles along the hall as he walked, parting the undulating floor for fleeting moment before the floor came back together. When I noticed this I squinted my eyes to try and sharpen my vision in an attempt to see what it was that was making the floor and walls quiver like they were. The cause of the moving floor became clear as they started to move from within the mirror, and out into the bathroom. Cockroaches. The insects began to spill out of the mirror and onto the sink and floor below. That was enough for me, Timmy and I had to get out of that bathroom. I reached out for Timmy’s arm and tried to pull him away, but he would not budge. He stood transfixed, his eyes glued to the mirror and the nightmare that was approaching. I tried a few more times to pull him away, shouting at him to snap out of it, but he wouldn’t move. It was if something unnatural was holding him in place, and wouldn’t let him go. I gave up, and I turned tail, hauling ass for the door. As soon as I reached the door handle, thousands of cockroaches moving impossibly fast covered the handle and immediately after the door, leaving the door obscured completely by writhing and hissing insects. I yelled, cursing and screaming as I turned around to go for the window on the other side of the bathroom. I was silenced when I was met with the sight of a room, no longer recognizable as my bathroom, but was now more reminiscent of that hallway in the mirror. The walls and ceiling was covered in insects. When I looked down, I saw that the roaches covered the floor below, making only two small spaces where my feet stood. I dared not move then, I didn’t know what would happen if I were to step on one of those bugs. I had the awful thought that if I were to move at all, the insects would strip my bones completely of flesh. I lifted my head slowly to the now dimly lit room, flashes of light would strobe here and there as the roaches crawled along the light shade on the ceiling. I could now that two yellow and gnarled hands had appeared on either side of the mirror, and I knew the Sallow Man had come. Timmy stood there, his eyes still wide, his stature still unmoved. I distinctly remember a smell then, a sickly smell that called to mind dirty bed pans, and I had to cover my mouth and nose not to gag. Still, this didn’t seem to bother Timmy what-so-ever. When the awful smell came, so did then did the Sallow Man’s head emerge from the mirror. His bald head was faced downward, and his neck stretched far into the room until his head was inches in front of Timmy’s face. A voice came then, a hissing voice that seemed to come from the insects, and echo all around the room. “Who is the one to be taken to the after?” The voice said. Timmy moved then, for the first time since he recited the poem, by smiling a wide and unnerving grin. “My Father!” Timmy said, loud and clear, as if delivering the death sentence himself. In retrospect, I suppose he was. There was a murmuring sound then, as all of the insects began to vibrate loudly. Then after a moment, the insects parted and swarmed around the wall to the left of the mirror, and a man; who I recognized to be Timmy’s father, rose from within the wall of swarming bugs. His face was pale and his eyes were wide with fear. The insects were swarming him, presumably pinning him to the wall. I’m sure he would be screaming if the cockroaches weren’t covering his mouth. “This is the one to be brought into the after?” That awful hissing echo came again, entreating an answer from Timmy, and without breaking his grin Timmy said. “Yes!” As if heeding the call of Timmy’s word, the insects then began swarming into Timmy’s father’s mouth. His eyes showed his desperate fear as thousands of cockroaches began eating him from the inside out. I would say it was gruesome, but the insects were quick with their work. They devoured every bit of Timmy’s father within seconds, leaving nothing left. Had my eyes not been glued to what was happening I might have blinked, and I would have missed it. I looked back to Timmy, who had a satisfied and almost, relieved looks on his face. But his look soon became one of terror as the Sallow Man spoke once more. “Now, you will join me in the after, boy. Such is the price to be paid.” Timmy didn’t move at all, save for the horrified shock that crawled over his face. I don’t know if it was terror that kept him in place, or if it was the Sallow Man. But Jesus Christ, I wish I didn’t see what happened next. The Sallow Man lifted his head slowly, revealing a face that had no features. No eyes, no nose, and no discernable marks what so ever as far as I could tell. The only thing there was a mouth. The Sallow Mans lips, like the rest of him, were stretched tight, making his human-like and yellow teeth seem bigger than they were. Stunned into helplessness by my own fear, I could do nothing but watch as the Sallow Man’s jaw unhinged and stretched to an impossible size. He then reached for Timmy and grabbed him, picking him up just as easy as if he weighed nothing at all. The Sallow Man then shoved Timmy into his mouth whole. Just like that, gone. Impossibly, my best friend was thrown into that awful ghoul’s throat. I didn’t even hear Timmy scream as the thing swallowed him. Tears were falling from my eyes freely as the Sallow Man closed his maw and turned his attention toward me as the insects began to retreat into the mirror behind him. Just before the Sallow Man disappeared behind the mirror, he smiled at me. I could feel his eyes, eyes that he did not have, burn into me. A buzzing sound filled my ears then, and I began to faint. Just before I hit the ground, I saw the Sallow Man duck his head back into the mirror and disappear. My Mother arrived home from work at around four o’ clock, and she found me on the bathroom floor passed out with the door closed. When Mom woke me up, my head was hazy, and it took me a moment to recall what had happened, and it was hard to think with Mom asking over and over if I was okay. But when I remembered I became frantic, telling her something had happened to Timmy, and he disappeared, but I left out the part about the Sallow Man. My Mother looked at me like I was crazy. “Who’s Timmy, dear?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “Mom you know Timmy, he’s my best friend!” I yelled. “Oh you made a new friend, what do you mean he disappeared?” I started to tell her that Timmy had been my best friend all my life, I was going to tell her that he had stayed over almost all of last year. But a sinking feeling in my stomach stopped me, and I pushed passed my Mother to the house phone. I was going to make a call to confirm my suspicion, but I hoped on hope I was wrong. I dialed Timmy’s number, and his Mother answered. “Hello?” I took in a deep breath and asked. “Hello, is Timmy there?” I asked. “I don’t know any Timmy, maybe you have the wrong number sweetie?” Timmy’s Mother sounded much happier than I ever had heard her before, it wasn’t enough to stop the tears from forming in my eyes, but it did prompt the next question I asked. “Are you married?” I asked, knowing how silly it sounded, but I had to know. “No, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business, does your Mother know you’re using the phone?” I didn’t reply, I just hung up. I turned and went up into my room, I dodged all my Mom’s questions and I went straight to bed. As I lie there, I thought hard about everything that had happened. I wondered if Timmy would want things this way. It was clear from the look of terror on his face, that he had no idea he would have to pay such a heavy cost. I wondered if his Timmy’s sister knew about that part of the deal, if she left it out on purpose, or if she just didn’t think it mattered, because after all it was just a stupid poem. But the biggest question that I kept asking myself, was Timmy still alive? I saw that thing swallow him whole, but was it possible in whatever world he was in, that he was still there with the Sallow Man? I hoped not, but hopes or not, I got my answer when Monday morning came. In class, all I could do was stare at Timmy’s empty seat, and it was making me sick thinking about it. I asked my teacher if I could use the restroom, and was excused. I went straight to the sink once I made my way to the bathroom and turned on the tap. I turned the hot water on all the way, and began to splash water into my face. When I was done, dried myself with paper towel, and my eyes met the now fogged-up bathroom mirror. There, in the condensation, were three words. ‘HELP ME BRANDON’

Washington's Inconceivable (creepypasta)

Let me begin by stating that I have always had a fascination with nature and its creatures. Even at a young age, I would watch documentaries that explained nature, its inhabitants and humanity’s place as the apex predator. As I progressed from childhood to adulthood, the documentaries ingrained in my subconscious would determine my career—an ecologist. I was twenty-five when I applied for ecology and I was ecstatic when I received a phone call from Seattle’s ecologists accepting me as their latest employee. Weeks transitioned into months and months became years as I worked tirelessly to solve any problem an ecosystem faced, whether it’d be a lack of a carnivore’s diet or too many herbivores. Sure, the work was tedious and demanding, but it provided me satisfaction for the effort of doing something worthwhile; providing relief for the wildlife’s misfortunes was all I required, aside from my paycheck. It had been an uneventful day at the University of Washington, and I had been reviewing the statistics of local lobsters when I was approached by one of my colleagues that—for privacy—I will name as Mr. J, who seemed to be troubled by something I could hardly fathom, his perplexed face was enough to warrant my inquiry into the matter. When asked what troubled him enough to seek me, he seemed to remember he’d been gripping a clipboard that had escaped my notice. He relinquished the clipboard to me, and as I read the report attached to it, I soon became confused as well. The source of my confusion was that, for reasons not understood, the black-tailed deer population had dramatically declined at Olympic National Park. There were multiple scenarios that served as a valid answer—perhaps a foreign predator had entered the territory, the population of predators in the area could have greatly increased or the deer had contracted a disease. All of these scenarios were plausible, but until the cause of this mysterious occurrence was ascertained, it was difficult to know. Once I had finished reading the report, I voiced my question of how this pertained to me. Mr. J’s reply was an apologetic look before seemingly mustering the courage to tell me that he had been planning a vacation that couldn’t be delayed. He had prepared for the vacation to begin tomorrow, and he sincerely hoped that I would complete his assignment with a young man who had been employed. Reluctantly, I agreed to his request with no small amount of annoyance developing inside of me. Satisfied with my answer, he left my sight with a joyous smile and an energetic skip in his step. What my co-worker had failed to mention was that his assignment would begin two days after he received it, and the dead-line was in six days. Perhaps he did not feel the need to speak to me about this information; whether it was laziness or lack of memory, it only reminded me of the regret I felt for accepting his request. Our conversation was exchanged three days ago, now I sat in the passenger seat of a small, white jeep being driven by a new employee who I, or the other ecologists, had not been well-acquainted with. There was not much known about him, only individuals who personally knew him would say he was a quiet man, socially withdrawn, but he did possess compassion for animals. In certain aspects, he was identical to me, albeit he was much younger, and my 30th year was approaching. One rumor had spread rapidly throughout the university; some people believed he was the man whose sister had perished with his house to a fire when he was a small child, but it was not my right to pry into his personal life. As the young man continued to drive us toward our destination, the sky became darker and the last rays of sunlight disappeared. In response, my driver turned on the jeep’s headlights to get a better look at his surroundings as nightfall became evident and stars glittered in the sky. It had taken several hours to come close to our destination, and it had been quite some time since I had seen another vehicle on this barren, concrete road; the only company we currently had were the vast amount of trees that lined the road on both sides, some of the trees even appeared to be covered in moss. Soon, a wooden sign came within view on the right-side of the road, and we halted the vehicle. We observed the sign, and were relieved to have finally reached our destination—Olympic National Park. The sign itself was lovely, the base of the sign was supported by stones and the wood was adorned with a small insignia of a tree and mountain. Still, we did not come this far to admire a mere sign; we had quickly driven past it and continued our route. We drove further into the national park, until we arrived at a security booth operated by a middle-aged forest ranger who seemed to recognize us as the team from Seattle. He welcomed us through the window of the booth before politely asking that that we park the vehicle on the side of the road, which we complied as we turned off the ignition and headlights. After exchanging pleasantries, the forest ranger, grasping a flashlight, lead us to a thin, dirt trail winding into a section of the forest. He proceeded to give us orders to follow the trail until we found a cabin, he also advised us to be wary of wolves, bears and cougars as he handed us his flashlight. Satisfied with his warning, we thanked him as we entered the forest. After walking a considerable distance and seeing nothing but trees, bushes and an occasional stream, we were greeted by the sight of a large, circular clearing; at the far end of the clearing, positioned on a small hill, was a decent-sized cabin. Once we strode across the clearing and up the small mound, I was able to obtain a better examination of the cabin. Upon closer inspection, I was slightly disappointed; numerous areas of the window were cracked, and the exterior wood had been rotting for quite some time. Silently praying that the interior structure wasn’t horribly damaged, I grasped the door handle and opened the cabin door, only for an acrid smell to pierce the air. My colleague and I quickly retreated from the door to escape the nauseating stench in fear of regurgitating our meals. When the scent had dissipated, we spent several minutes scouring outside the cabin to identify the origin of the smell that we had the misfortune of inhaling. Unable to find the source, we decided to enter the cabin and were astonished by what we saw; despite the exterior structure being damaged, the interior was unharmed. The cabin only had one room, yet was spacious enough to hold a large group of people; two green beds accompanied by a nightstand for each respective bed lined the walls, and a desk was positioned near the front window. Although we were interested in the room, we began to feel weary from the trip, and the beds seemed to almost beckon to us like sirens to sailors. With haste, we discarded our clothing, placed the flashlight and jeep key on a nightstand, dove into our beds and drifted to sleep. The next two days spent trying to find any sort of problem that plagued the deer population were in vain; despite my years of expertise, I could not find anything abnormal. During many of our breaks from our work, we also attempted to locate the source of the mysterious stench from the first night for curiosity’s sake, yet the origin continued to elude us. I had thought this would be another regular assignment that would provide an easy answer, but I was proven extremely wrong; the next three days’ events are what truly disturbed me, and had me concerned for my partner. Over the course of those days, he’d become increasingly agitated, sluggish and complaining about painful headaches. He would barely eat any of the packaged jerky we had stuffed in our pockets, and would occasionally leave to vomit in random bushes. I didn’t know what ailed my co-worker, but I was determined to see him receive treatment. Night soon overcame the day, and we prepared to accept that we would not discover the answer that had been elusive. Once again, we discarded our clothing, climbed into our beds and drifted to sleep. I can not recall when I awoke that night, all I can remember was that it was extremely dark when I glanced at the window. It was unusually quiet, and I was slightly frightened; there was no chirping of crickets, no croaking of frogs, nothing that indicated anything was alive outside of the cabin. As I pondered about this unusual behavior of the wildlife, a repulsive stench filled the room, only it was much more intense than the first night I was exposed to it. I was soon alerted to faint footsteps outside the cabin, and I could see something stirring outside the window. I strained my eyes to peer out the window, and immediately regretted it. Something was definitely outside, and although I could not properly see it, I knew that it was immensely large. The door groaned as the shape outside pushed it open, and I quickly hid under the covers and remained motionless. I desperately tried to gaze through the fabric of the sheets at what stood outside the doorway, yet I could only see the faint shape of the creature; it was obviously massive and bulbous but despite its large shape, it was somehow able to step through the doorway, almost as if it passed through a non-existent door frame. Its foot steps, oh God, it sounded unnatural! The rhythm of its foot steps would give someone the impression that it had more than four legs! That was impossible, no mammal that was recorded had more than four legs! I continued to watch the shape as it seemed to disregard me, instead it focused its attention on my partner. Once it strolled across the room, and stood beside the bed of my associate, it proceeded to simply stare at the sleeping form. Several moments passed before I saw the silhouette of the young man awaken, and leave his bed. He seemed to stare at whatever was in front of him before muttering in disbelief “Cassandra?” He began to sob uncontrollably and—to my utter horror —embraced the thing that stood in front of him. “I missed you so much, it was my fault for playing with that lighter, I couldn’t have known what it would have done,” he whimpered. The thing continued to remain still as the man embraced it as if he had known it his entire life. He quickly composed himself before asking the creature why it wanted him to follow it. The reply was only chittering and guttural noises, yet the man seemed content with the answer. He quickly wiped away his tears, followed the creature out of the cabin, and into the night. Once the pair had disappeared, the forest life seemed to return; I could hear the croaking of frogs, the chirping of birds, and sounds of movement in the forest encircling me. I remained frozen in shock as my mind tried to process what had occurred. When the realization of what happened finally sunk in, I threw the bed sheets from my body, donned my clothing, grabbed the jeep key from the nightstand, and sprinted out of the cabin. It is known that when a person experiences copious amounts of fear, it overwhelms said person, this was especially true for me. In my panic-stricken state, I had sprinted into the nearest section of the forest, completely forgetting the flashlight and losing sight of the trail that I was supposed to follow, now I could only hope that I was close enough to the trail that my co-worker and I had followed when we first arrived. My hopes of quickly exiting the forest began to diminish; I did not recognize this part of the forest, and I could only imagine that I was running deeper into the dense woodland, but I could not stop, I would not stop! That thing was after me, I knew it was! In my moment of casting fervent glances in any direction I could, I had failed to notice the object that was lying in front of me, and proceeded to trip and fall on top of it. I had become disoriented by the fall and I required a moment to regain awareness of my surroundings; once my head had cleared, I decided to look at the object that I had fallen on, and immediately scrambled away from it. What had tripped me was not simply a log or something that someone would expect, but the corpse of a deer, a black-tailed deer; the mammal’s chest appeared to have been sliced open and its organs strewn across the ground. I would never forget its eyes, those lifeless eyes that seemed to stare into my very being, and its visage displaying the most human-esque expression I had ever seen from an animal—terror. I soon became aware of the other corpses of animals that littered the ground; there were wolves, rabbits and even numerous bears, all seemed to have suffered the same fate as the deer, and all displayed looks of absolute horror. I quickly rose to my feet, ignored the coagulated blood that covered me and continued to dash through the forest, my desperation increasing with every step I took. I could scarcely imagine what fate had in store for my friend, and I shuddered as I recalled him following whatever led him away from the cabin; he had not bothered to grab his clothing, and the way he left the cabin seemed as if he was in a trance. I had been so distracted by my thoughts, I hadn’t realized that I emerged from the forest, and was in familiar territory. I instantly recognized the security booth in the distance, and the jeep parked on the side of the road leading away from this nightmarish place. With renewed energy, I sprinted down the road, past the booth, and to the door of the jeep. I fumbled the key from my pocket, and inserted it into the vehicular door as my mind raced with thoughts of relief. As I prepared to leave, I noticed movement in the side mirror of the vehicle and froze. I saw it, its true form, its inconceivable form that elicited a primal scream from me, and my vision darkened. I do not know when I regained clarity in a padded cell, and many of the doctors who worked at Western State Hospital had told me that they had no hope for my recovery, and it was a miracle I had recovered my sanity. As they removed my straight-jacket and prepared the release forms that would grant me my freedom, I requested to know why I had been placed here. They exchanged worried glances to each other before answering that people had found me crawling down the road away from Olympic National Park, muttering unintelligible words and phrases, and the appearance of my hair and clothes disheveled and covered in dark, dried blood frightened onlookers. Throughout my year of insanity at the psychiatric hospital, the doctors also mentioned that I produced many sketches of odd symbols, constellations, planets and a creature that appeared to have a crustacean body and arachnid legs with slender feelers on its chest, two large claws protruding from its back, possessing multiple humanoid eyes and no visible mouth, underneath the drawing was an abnormal word simply spelled Xilctha; the drawings disconcerted the doctors whenever they gazed at them, and were often thrown way or burned. A missing persons report had also been filed for my friend; the police found my partner’s nude, decayed corpse deep within the woodland, his visage displaying a look of terror, and his rotting organs scattered across the ground. To this day, I dread to envision him resembling the animals I’d found. It wasn’t long before memories of my days of being insane returned, although I wish they hadn’t, for it was not merely memories, but life-altering facts. Nothing excited me anymore, I did not dare to continue my work, I no longer had sympathy for animals, only contempt for exposing me to the reality of life and my value in this world. Often, I resorted to drinking liquor to repress the horrendous truth that I knew; humanity was simply a plaything, we created our illusion of superiority, only to never have been contested. Now, as I prepared to throw myself out of my apartment window in the hope of ending my life, I can only advise that you don’t travel to Olympic National Park, lest you are unfortunate to encounter the epitome of madness that I had discovered.

The Clink

It all started with a clink,

It was my 21st birthday and shot glasses clinked,

But before then I have always heard a clink,

I was 3 years old and my dad came stumbling in the door,

I had no idea what my parents were fighting for,

I heard my parents divorce was on the brink,

But I was only a toddler what was I suppose to think,

I could never understand,

But my mom and dad held my hand,

My dad came home from having a drink,

But after he passed out on the floor I heard the table clink,

I walked in the dining room door,

But found that he was passed out on the floor,

I looked at the table and saw a can,

And I put the drink in my hand,

I took a sip and it was gross,

It was only then I realized that I missed my dad the most,

I thought it was sprite,

But something just didn't taste right,

It was beer,

But I was to young to know what was clear,

It was all a clink... it was all a clink,

When I found out that you died,

All I could do is cry,

It wasn't out of anger or that things got bad.

It was that I would no longer have my dad.

Never thought I could be so sad.

Or change so much,

But it was with you that I am now out of touch.

I'm now 22 years old and all I hear is a clink,

I clean my cup in the sink that reminds me of my thoughts from last night,

But something didn't feel right,

You weren't there fixing my hair for school,

You weren't there telling me the ultimate life rule.

You died and something in me went with it,

I wish that something could fit,

But I can no longer look forward to seeing you on the street,

Or randomly see you in the local walmart where we would meet,

What could have been so bad?

That you could not reach out to anyone my lovely Dad,

What took over all of your thoughts and pain,

What drove you away from all the things that made you sane.

There's so much I want to tell you and all of the things to know that you would think,

But all I need is to start with the clink.

The clink, the clink again, we need a clink to know where your thoughts began,

What hurt you so bad, I need to know dad,

Those beautiful hazel eyes and their silent cries,

I miss laying with you and how much you showed your love in our hellos and goodbyes.

Don't decrease the goal, increase the effort 💯

The Sandman

The estimated reading time for this story is greater than or equal to 18 minutes. This story is credited to Tam Lim. 

“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things that escape those who dream only at night.”      -Edgar Allen Poe, “Eleanora”

“Go to bed and wait for the Sandman.”

Even as it came out of James’ mouth it seemed to him a strange thing to say, and he was not sure why he had, but for some reason it worked: Daniel went to bed.

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Don't tell me what they said about me, tell me why they felt comfortable saying it around you💯💯💯

They Came with the Tide (creepypasta)

A gentle breeze pushed through the screen and tickled my short black hair against my forehead. All the windows were open, but I knew I would have to close them soon, it seemed like a down pour would start momentarily. The waves pushed and crashed against the boats and dock just outside. I began to go around closing the windows, not sure if there were any procedures I had to follow if it began rained; I had only been working here at the Marina for three days. My radio beeped and shook me from my tranced state, “Sean, you there?” I knew the rough voice anywhere, “Yeah Ron, what’s up?” Ron had never failed to surprise me. I knew just by his complexion when I saw him he was a veteran, but still, the stories he told rattled me to the core. “I’m coming in, it’s about to rain,” he grumbled in the usual gravelly voice. I chuckled to myself, it reminded me of Batman. “Alright, doors unlocked.” I set the radio down and peered out the glass door leading onto the docks. There, I saw Ron, slowly limping because of his bad knee. He had told me about the injury and said it was from a grenade but refused to go into detail. I made him and myself a cup of coffee as the rain began to come down. We both sat and I continued to look out the window, waiting for the work day to come to an end. Lately, storms had plagued this side of the bay, causing the tide to rise and bring floods. “Looks like the Marina is going under again,” Ron said breaking the silence as he glanced at the rising water. “Hopefully not too much this time,” I took a sip of the coffee, “last time it was up to our knees.” “Your knees,” he corrected me and chuckled his raspy laugh. He had always enjoyed making fun of my under average height. “Hey, at least my eyes aren’t as grey as my hair,” I grinned and we both snickered. The tide slowly rose as the day went on; Ron had decided he would cut his work day short since it was far too flooded to work on the boats. I stayed, hoping at least one customer would show up since we also sold beer and cigarettes. For a long while I stared out the window before I noticed something on the other side of the boatyard. Past the bobbing ships, I saw a man. He was kneeling beside a dead bird. I gagged thinking of bad it must smell and why this man was even near it. Slowly, he reached down and picked it up by the legs, blood trickled down its neck and dripped to the ground. I stood and walked over to the window, staring at him, disgusted, but very curious. Suddenly he snapped his head towards me, causing my legs to go limp and nearly fall backwards when I saw him. What I believed to be his face had no features, any exposed skin seemed completely out of focus. His clothes, however, were clearly visible. The polo he wore was stained a sickly green color. The longer I looked at him the more nauseous I felt. I forced myself to look away from the misty complexion. Slowly rubbing my eyes I looked back up through the window. Streams of rain snaked down the glass. The “man” and bird were gone. Not a trace that I could see was left. An open field stood all around the area they had been. The only place he could have gone was the water, which seemed to have risen an unusual amount. I instantly called Ron in a panic. He answered, clearly annoyed by my phone call on his break. “What do you want?” He grumbled. “I have no idea,” I blurted without thinking, “this guy picked up a dead bird and just ran away with it.” “Why is this problem, Sean?” There was a pause as I thought about it. Somehow, I knew it wasn’t natural and not just my mind playing tricks on me, but I sure didn’t want him thinking I was mentally insane. “See? There’s no problem. Just some weirdo,” he reassured me in a calmer tone. We both hung up and I went back to my duties, sitting in a chair and hoping I wouldn’t see that scene again. The hours passed and the rain continued to fall. There was no sign of anyone or anything so I decided to close up for the day. I grabbed my things and made my way down the aisles, setting the alarm and stepping outside. The rain pounded my head as the keys slipped around in my hand, finally making it to the door. Locking it, I began walking to my car, already soaking and in no rush. As I walked I began to slowly notice figures, all standing perfectly still with their backs to me. The same pounding feeling in my head returned, matching the rapid beats of my heart. Taking slight glances around me I counted five of them. Somehow, they hadn’t caught my attention moments ago; I failed to see them when I was locking the door. They all stood next to the ever rising tide, their ankles half submerged in the water. The clothes they wore didn’t seem to be drenched like mine were; everything about the situation unfolding bothered me. Before I knew it, I was in a full sprint across the parking lot. Water splashed my legs as I ran and clicked the button on my keychain, unlocking the doors to my car before I could grip the handle. I pushed myself into the front seat, bashing my head against the door causing the pounding feelings in my head to seem like grenades exploding. Horror fell into the pit of my stomach, and as the tide rose, they advanced—growing closer and extinguishing the feeling of safety my car provided. My breathing became strained and tears began to sting my eyes. The ignition refused my many attempts to start the car and escape whatever horrors were approaching. Opening the door, I stepped back out into the rain. I made a quick dash back to the store. Fumbling for my keys, I jammed them into the lock and swung the door open. Not thinking about the alarm, I slammed the door and hurried behind the counter. I heard the light beeps as the system prepared to scream for help, being too scared to move, I simply sat and waited. A piercingly loud alarm was raised within a mere few seconds, something accompanied it though, something I couldn’t explain. Peering out the window I saw one of the figures, hands on the sides of its head and mouth wide open. An unhuman shriek came out from between the black, glossy, jagged teeth scattered around in its mouth. I ducked back behind the counter, a legion of screaming creatures surrounding me and the tide continuing to rise. After what seemed like forever they finally stopped. Slowly, I peeked out the window once again and saw the tide, rippling from raindrops, now even higher, but without the creature. Two bright headlights approached the store and a truck came skidding to stop, none other than Ron jumped out, shotgun in hand. “What did you do this time!?” I heard him yell from outside. I pressed my fingers to my lips and hissed, “Get in here!” “I don’t know what’s going on, but if I came down here for nothing I’ll-“ I could hear the air being forced from his lungs as his body lurched forward—the same out of focus creature from earlier standing behind him. Ron stumbled a few feet before regaining his balance and swinging around, his skin clearly becoming pale as he glared at the creature. Its hand flinched as if it were about to grab Ron. Without hesitation, he fired. Pellets speckled the green polo, but the creature didn’t so much as move; the surface of its skin rippled and shimmered like water after being struck with a stone. “Run!” I screamed at him, but before the word could leave my mouth he was already in a sprint toward me, his limp greatly hindering his speed. The shotgun clattered against the pavement and the creature began its pursuit. They got so close to the store I could hear the strained gasps as Ron tried to flee inside. Again, the creature lunged at him, this time they both crashed to ground and came skidding to a stop inches in front of me. I grabbed his wrist and yanked him halfway through the door frame before a strong resistance came from his other side. A look of suppressed agony was painted on his face; the creature had grabbed him by his injured leg. A firm tug jostled one of his wrists free from my grasp. For the first time, I could see Ron with a look of true terror in his eyes, “p-please—don’t let go.” The tone of his voice shook me deeper than any of his stories ever could. There was a light pop as his leg gave way and the agony plastered on his face echoed through the Marina. I tripped and fell forward, scraping my hands as I caught myself. Ron was being dragged away when I looked up—his knee twisted at an unnatural angle. He shrieked, clawing the pavement trying to slow his decent into the water. I forced myself up off the ground and darted after him. My feet splashed through the water as I chased the duo. Ron was being dragged through the water like a heavy sack, his leg suspended in air by the creature. A light trail of red swirled in the water as the skin on his back was tore apart by the cement. The adrenalin began to wear off and I became more aware of my surroundings; water splashed against my chest and I realized just how deep I had gone into the water. Panic leaked through my body as my mind took me back ten years. I could almost remember the exact feeling as water filled my lungs; the sun became darker and more distant as my exhausted twelve year body sank to the bottom the pool. A chill ran down my spine and I forced the memory out of my mind, Ron no longer flailed about in the water. His body seemed limp and his arms floated behind him. Tearing my eyes from the scene I turned back and got out of the water as quickly as I could, retreating back into the store. The alarm had become a simple background noise; I focused more on the threats that caused it to sound in the first place. Knowing they would converge on the store I found a place to hide, two small cabinets in the furthest corner from the water seemed like my best option. I climbed in and waited—seconds, minutes, hours passed by as I sat there. The rain had slowly stopped and by what I could tell from the small crack in door nobody had come inside. My heart pounded like a drum line as I pushed my way out of the hiding spot. The moon sliced through the dissipating clouds and reflected off the now calm water. Slowly—cautiously—I made my way down the seemingly endless aisle to the door. I could already tell the tide had gone down drastically. The parking lot was how I had left it, Ron’s truck and my car were parked a short distance from the store and the shotgun lay untouched in the headlights. Making my way around the store I saw them, hundreds of the creatures making a hazy, unfocused wall along the tide. One by one they melted back into the water, their cloths going under with them. A slight feeling of relief washed over me as they and the water fell back into its usual place, though the feeling was quickly overtaken by something stronger—pure dread. Not over the fact that Ron was gone, not that everybody would never believe a single thing I tell them, but I knew I would see them again—I knew I would see Ron again. There was one thing, no matter how hard I tried, I knew I could never change—they came with the tide.

My brother died when I was a child. He kept talking. I think people should know what he said

by reddit user TheEmporersFinest

Although rather lengthy, I received many messages to make a post about this story. After reading, I understood why. 

We’d all known Dennis had less than a week and we’d all braced ourselves, for all the good that would do. This was going to tear us apart and leave a ragged gaping hole in all our lives. But that would be it. It would fit within our understanding of things and we could all assume he went wherever we thought people go. That would have been so much easier, so much less troubling than what actually happened.

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Someone’s pretending to be my wife

by reddit user psycho_alpaca

I’ll catch Susan smiling at me for no reason. This has happened more than once. We’ll be watching TV, just the two of us, like always. Then I’ll notice with the corner of my eye that she’s got her eyes at me, not at the TV. Head turned ninety degrees my way, a frozen smile on her face I can only barely make out in my peripheral vision. Something unnatural about it.

And then I turn to look and she’s got her eyes on the TV again. I asked her about it the first time, she denied it. I was afraid I’d sound crazy if I pushed it, so I never asked again.

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