Pranked in PinkGroaning with pain from your massive hangover, your eyes open wide as you look down and see a big maze of fur blocking your vision. You try to sit up, but there is a heavy weight jiggling on your chest, and your head feels like it weighs ten times more than it should. You reach up to push the fluffy weight off your chest, and and see two giant pink fur cuffs wrapped around your wrists, and long pink nails have been attached to your fingers. Sitting up quickly, the weight on your chest grasps your skin and bounces around underneath the fur collar, and you see you've been dressed in a pretty pink dress with ridiculously huge fur trims! A big fluffy petticoat peeks out from under the hem of the skirt, which surrounds your thighs with a big tube of pink fur. Your feet are inside a pair of boots, which have a massive ball of fur exploding around the top of them, surrounding your lower thighs and most of your feet. A pair of lace tights are wrapped tightly around your legs.Pranked in Pink3 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
"What... what the
Toon SkinOne bright sunny day, you find a curious glowing pencil laying on the side of the road. You are immediately compelled to walk over and pick it up, and as you do, you notice a thin line being drawn from its lead into the air. Gasping in surprise, you give another flick, drawing a circle in mid air, which falls to the ground. You look around to see if anyone is watching - no one seems to be around. You decide to try something a little more complicated, and draw your name in big outlines. Once you’re finished, you grab and pull at them, and they resist your strength as if they were made out of cast iron. You laugh in amazement, and try the eraser on the letters, and see them scrub out of existence as quickly as they were make. You suddenly get a very exciting idea, once that will test the limits of your artistic abilities.Toon Skin3 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
You’ve always been a doodler, and have spent many hours drawing cartoon girls with big flowing hairstyles, huge breasts, tiny waists, and a generous display
Bone collectorHe digs and digs, looking for the bones. And he sings along the way. It's his job, his pleasure. To dig and to find the bones of the dead. Nobody knows, it's a secret. And he's not weird about the place. It can be a graveyard, an ancient battlefield or a still warm corpse. It doesn't matter, the objective is to add to his collection. An impressive collection, labeled and organized, in contrast to his dirty clothes and messy home. And whenever he looks at it, he smiles. That's the work of a lifetime, his legacy to the world. And someday his own bones will be a part of his collection. A thought that makes him the happiest man alive...Bone collector1 month ago in Short Stories More Like This
Creepypasta: Patches the RabbitCreepypasta: Patches the Rabbit2 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
The playground was bustling with children. Kids were pulling stunts on the monkey bars, going up and down on the teeter totters, taking turns on the slide, and playing an exciting game of freeze tag. One of the girls who went by the name of Alice wandered around the playground, searching for a group of kids to join when she noticed that a boy was sitting alone on the swing set. He wore a dark purple hoodie with black stripes and he looked as though he was in the highest grade. In his arms he cuddled stuffed, white rabbit plush with glossy black button eyes and glittering blue stars on its paws and ears. He had this rather bored look on his face while he fiddled with the rabbit’s ears, like he was lonely and needed someone to play with him.
Alice made her way over to him and greeted him with a smile, “Hi!” She waved to him, but he was too interested in the plush. “Hello?” she questioned.
His head slowly rose and he gave her this disconcerted look and clutch
ChrisDid you ever wonder if coincidences exist? I think they don't. I believe everything happens for a reason. For a while you'll not understand it, it may bug you. You may cry and ask why, but with time you'll understand. We all have our destiny, and I guess they're made pretty much of our actions. It's about cause and effect.Chris3 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
This is the destiny I have to deal with.
I was 15 years old when my normal life changed, sometimes I'd love to go back to those days where I was younger and I didn't have to worry about anything but my friends and my clothes. I guess people change.
Back in 2009, when I was 15, my life used to be quite normal. My foster parents took care of me like if I wasn't adopted at all. They adopted me when I was pretty much a baby and they never hid the fact I was adopted so I never worried about it. In fact, I was glad of being adopted. At least I knew they wanted me and chose me, I wasn't a broken condom. Still, they once told me my biological parents were still young to t
Mr. DreamYou can call me Mr. Dream, if you like.Mr. Dream2 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
And speaking of dreams, I had a wonderful one just last night. I dreamed of a juicy, roasted chicken in front of me, and with a hungry grin I contentedly ripped off the legs and wings to arrange them on my plate. My, what a big chicken! I laughed to myself. The dream faded and I awoke in my bed, at peace.
Now I can tell you a bit about my day life. I live in a nice community home, in a small town by the coast in New England. I must say I'm quite content here, among my neighbors, or as you might call them, my family. Every day after breakfast we learn together in a quaint little classroom, and before and after lunch we have activities that we all love to participate in. Dinner is always the best part of my day, such happy conversation resonates through that time of day. We always spend time together. In fact, we do so often, I don't remember the last time I did any errands for myself in terms of leaving our home. Oh well, I'm quite
CREEPYPASTA SHORT: The Nightmares of a PhantomNOTE: This story is meant to be read with the song linked below but if you want to read it without the music, that's ok with me.CREEPYPASTA SHORT: The Nightmares of a Phantom1 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
I do own The Hangman but the song is owned by the band Volbeat.
The Nightmares of a Phantom
Based off of the song "Room 24" by Volbeat
He felt himself slowly faltering into the unconscious world of slumber, his transparent form hovering his queen sized bed in what was left of his home in the town he guarded so strictly. The skeletal ruins of this once grand home surrounded him, the wood on the walls and floor coughed up sand and dust that accumulated in the past century he's been officially dead as he landed on the old ragged sheets of the bed. He felt himself solidifying and his eyes closing without warning. He put hi
Creepypasta: Quite ContraryCreepypasta: Quite ContraryCreepypasta: Quite Contrary1 week ago in Short Stories More Like This
“Ring around the rosies, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes…”
The old woman’s voice rattled off the nursery rhyme, repeated so often that saying it was more an automatic reflex than anything else. Her house, built by her pastor father and left to her as part of his will after the accident, creaked its uncaring response as she ascended the steps heading to the bathroom on the main floor. Mary Alleckson may have been a monster, but even she was frightened of that thing in the basement.
“…we all fall down.”
Mary blacked out for a few seconds, as she often did. She saw her usual visions. A rope swing on a gnarled crab-apple tree. Friends, old friends whose names and faces were now blank spaces. A bottle of wine next to a handful of pills. A funeral in the rain. And the thing she had found in the basement after her father’s passing, that thing he had tried so hard to keep a secret from her and had intended to carry
:FNAF: Despair:FNAF: Despair2 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
Five Nights at Freddy's - Total Despair ~ The Chlling Tale
"S-Someone...please s-s-save u-s..."
"W-W-We hate being s-stuck here..."
"H-H-Have a fun ti--p...le...a...s...e..."
" H E L P U S "
Glitchy voices echoed across the empty halls of a certain pizzeria. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was the name. The place used to bustle with all kinds of people, from children to adults, youngins to adolescents. Everyday, business was great and tremendous, and everyone would be of good cheer. However, tragedy befell the once-joyful place, for disastrous events took place. First, there was the Bite of '87, where an innocent victim lost their frontal lobe. Sure, it is both a miracle and a mystery that he or she survived, but it costed their sense to everything.
Without the frontal lobe, you're rendered helpless, as loss of said part places you in a vegetative state.
If you don't know what that means, it means you cannot to respond to anything, as if you were actually a
Creepypasta: I Walk A Lonely StreetCreepypasta: I Walk a Lonely StreetCreepypasta: I Walk A Lonely Street2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
The hallucinations weren’t getting better. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; she’d stopped hearing someone talking over her bedside, she could no longer make out the sound of whispering coming from that room in her attic she dared not enter, and she was likewise no longer anguished during the night by phantom banging and crashing thuds coming from upstairs. But even though the auditory hallucinations had been banished back to that haunted part of her brain that had spawned them, there was something new that the pills had brought on, something far more worrisome.
She could see him.
She had often felt watched, all her life really, since she was about sixteen, but she never had a face to put to her simmering paranoia. She still didn’t, not in the literal sense. This was because “the man in the pinstripe suit”, as she had come to refer to him when speaking to the doctors, wore a bowler hat pulled so low that she
HeartlessWhen Lorna died, I didn’t even go to her funeral. People thought this odd since she was my wife and I was a regular churchgoer, with a penchant for living a bibilical life. Attending her funeral would mean sharing her – and in death, as in life, it was something I never wanted. I tried to express this feeling to others but they thought at the very least I would want to attend a holy ceremony, sing hymns, and listen to passion from the pulpit from the new vicar, extolling her many virtues.Heartless3 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
But, no, I wanted none of that. I had lost her and night’s requiem sung in my weary head at the end of each day was enough for me, holding the sounds of God's small creatures, trees and a stream beyond my bedroom window; the gentle cadence of nature’s heartbeat mingling with my own, thrumming in my ears, reassuring me that as long as my life continued, Lorna would live on. Memories, minutiae of our days together strung out on the thread of dreams and as one ended, another conti