Cold life in mirrorLike always I sitting and stare at world from mirror. I don't need to know how real world is. I looked around. Everywhere was white walls with a lot of mirrors, gray fog hide everything what was a bit farer. I heard quiet whispers. I lived here my whole existence. But I feel that I need something. I never was happy like others were. I don't understand why they smiling, laughing and spend so much time with somebody...Cold life in mirror11 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
Today I again watching what happens in my master's residence. There wasn't anything special. Everyone doing things which they usually do. So, like always this annoying girlie starts bang to one of mirrors screaming my name. Why she everyday must disturb me... I come to mirror on which other side she was.
-DONT TOUCH MY MIRROR!- I yelled at her. I really hate when others make my mirrors dirty. But she ignored it and smiled to me like fool.
-Come play with us!- she said
Great... I have here job to do and she wants playing. I looked after her. Dead Mary and masked man were he
Violinist's DemiseViolinist's Demise4 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
July 15, 1897
"No! No, no, no! The note is 'F', not 'A'! Preform the song correctly the first time and don't disappoint me any further."
"Start back at the top. For every mistake you make you will repeat the song that many times over until you can finish the song without making a single error."
Abiding his mother's orders, Cyril continued to play his beloved violin. Although he loved playing the violin, he didn't particularly care for his mother's harsh words and punishments. Cyril didn't want to disappoint her, so he continued to play.
"Cyril! The note on the measure is 'F'! How much mired do you wish to anger me!?" His mother scowled and spoke with disdain.
"I'm s-sorry.. I'm trying, I really am! See?" Cyril tried to play the song again, but was interrupted by his enraged mother.
"No, you don't 'try' to play correctly. You will play correctly. You're a noble. You shouldn't be such a disappointment. Nobleman are supposed to set an example amongst the common p
in flesh and bloodHe finds her unassumingly. She's just standing there, cheeks ruddy, bundled in a forest green jacket lined with fake—he thinks—fur. He finds her, hands in pockets, feet atop the grass. The light that floods the panes of her face casts dark shadows beneath her eyes and along her jaw and he thinks for a moment that she might be kind of beautiful.in flesh and blood3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Why are you standing before the Eiffel Tower and looking so sad?"
Her head snaps. He counts, one, two, three, seconds, and then she turns her face upward toward the monument in front of the two. They are alone. She doesn't say anything and then she's saying something and he has to turn his attention from the angles of her face to her brown, brown, brown eyes.
"Do you think it's lonely?" Of course not, he thinks. Of course not.
But all he can utter is no as he stares up at it. When she asks him why he sputters and turns to face her again, and sh
Creepypasta: ThreadbareCreepypasta: ThreadbareCreepypasta: Threadbare2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
No one knows the name of the homeless bloke who lived under the overpass, who he was, or where he came from. Most assumed him to be just another person with a physical or possibly mental handicap that kept him from working, like countless others within the inner core of Detroit. You, being a kind soul at your most basic, thought you would give him a gift possibly more precious than a handout. You thought it would be a profound gesture of kindness to sit down with the man and ask him about his life.
As you approach him, lying in his makeshift lean-to and looking out on the world that cast him out, you don’t feel scared in the least. He has never exhibited any signs of hostile behaviour in the four years he has dwelled beneath the overpass, and in fact seems to show an admirably content attitude on his station in life.
“Hello, do you need someone to talk to? I have plenty of spare time, it’s Sunday so I don’t have work or anything” yo
Creepypasta: Pretty Little ThingsCreepypasta: Pretty Little ThingsCreepypasta: Pretty Little Things1 week ago in Short Stories More Like This
Isn’t it funny how the things that tickle our imaginations as children seem terrifying in perspective when we grow, and vice versa? Even time itself, which seems naught but a blessing to a child, appears increasingly ravaging and crippling to an adult through its bastard offspring, “age”. Eventually it is so akin to the grim specter of Death itself that it turns our bones to ash and, except in extraordinary cases, erases all memory we ever lived. But I am above such things. I have lived for all times and for all ages, and all because of Theresa.
Theresa is a doll of the porcelain variety, although that is like saying that the revolver which was used to assassinate Archduke Ferdinand and kicked off World War I was .32 in calibre. What I’m trying to say is that just thinking of Theresa as a doll is to miss the underlying subtext of what she represents. To illustrate my point, I found Theresa in my bathtub when I was filling it wit
What Comes Out of the Shadows I was always afraid of the basement.What Comes Out of the Shadows1 week ago in Short Stories More Like This
My parents chalked it up to what they called “post-moving paranoia” or something like that. I could only remember that the basement of the new house we moved to filled me with a chilling, dark feeling. I never knew why it bothered me so much.
Even my parents never really went down there. The previous owners had left a ton of stuff down there, and if it had been any other house I’d have been down there searching for anything interesting. I couldn’t go into the basement here though. Not in this house. The basement seemed like its own territory, and you didn’t want to trespass on its territory.
The house itself was nice. My room was small and there was a dent in the wall, but it was nice. My parents had a room that connected to a bathroom, and the kitchen was near their room while the living room was closer to mine. It was a small, cozy house, but
Creepypasta: Bloody MaryCreepypasta: Bloody MaryCreepypasta: Bloody Mary1 week ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Bloody Mary ritual is probably the most popular method of summoning a spirit among casual ghost hunters. No one really believes in it, and when someone does see something odd after the incantation is performed it is attributed to the sensory deprivation of being in a darkened room. But maybe if I explain the origins of the story you will be a bit more receptive to the truth.
Mary was a waif of a 16 year-old girl who lived in the countryside of Scotland during the Wars of Scottish Independence which occurred in the tail end of the 1200s. Mary saw none of the war however, and for that matter barely ever saw the world outside her family’s shamble of a dwelling except when she was allowed to. You see, her parents were obsessively worried for Mary’s safety. She was their only child, and because they loved her more than life itself, they forbade her from living a normal life so as to keep her protected. They just never wanted to lose her. Ironically,
Mocking Bird”Hush Little Baby, don't say a word.” The voice came from the naked girl, covered in grime and blood as she staggered through the market, blood flowing freely from the deep cuts in her wrists and legs, yet still she staggered on, a blood stained shard of glass in her hand, she stared blindly forward, with dark unseeing eyes, ”Mommy's going to bye you a mocking bird.” She sang, like a broken thing, her voice near tears. No one listened to her, as they pushed past her, as if she didn't even exist. The street was crowded, yet they all parted, giving her a way, However, other then that, they ignored her. They all knew that she was beyond help. ”And If that Mockingbird don't sing... The thing sang, her voice starting to crack, she knew what was coming, the man was coming. Her throat was raw, she had been singing for hours, yet, of it's own volition, her body still sang. ”Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring.” her legMocking Bird2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
Ritual of Death Sometime in the 90’s, a group of children were reportedly attacked outside their school building. The school was nearly vacant, and the kids were only there for an after-school club. They told police that they were held prisoner inside while a creature prowled around outside. One boy and a girl tried to make a run for it, and insisted that they were attacked by a creature with many faces.Ritual of Death4 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
The boy told them that the creature bragged about having 1000 faces, and offered to show them every one of the faces it had. They both refused to look as the creature’s head began to change. The boy reported that they stood there, facing the direction opposite the creature with their eyes closed, for the longest time until the creature had finished. It then whispered a few words to the boy before disappearing.
The boy only remembers one thing from the words the creature had said, and he called it the “Ritual of Death”. Po
Request: Jagoman169In a quiet forest in medieval Japan, everything was very tranquil with the moonlit sky giving light through the trees. A figure was standing against a tree. At first, you would think that this was just an ordinary soldier, but look closer and you will find something horrid and ghastly about this particular fellow. He was an undead. He was adorned in samurai armor with colors of red and black with a yellow trim. And his skin was pale grey and had the usual characteristics as a zombie. Nonetheless, he was nicely built and was a proficient fighter. Before he died, that is.Request: Jagoman1691 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
This undead samurai was once a proud, wise warrior in his class. He was married and had a family. It was the unfortunate untimely death that this good man was slain in battle. But he wouldn’t remain dead for long. After he was put to rest in his grave, a dark evil force invaded and reanimated his body as a spooky undead. Now he walks with a dark blue floating ghost head. He wander for many years after his resurrec
Can You Keep a Secret?: Zalgo's ProtegeCan you keep a secret? Can you keep a secret? Can you keep a secret? Can you keep a secret?Can You Keep a Secret?: Zalgo's Protege4 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
"H-h-h-h-hello, loves. C-c-c-c-care to hear a story?" The young boy spoke nervously, his accent easily recognizable as British. "C-c-c-can you keep a s-s-s-secret? W-w-well, alright then."
Before a captive, literally tied to their seats, audience, a young man stood on a stage, dressed all fancy in white. He wore a perfect old English tux, with shirt tails and all. His hair a short and ruffled ginger, freckles on his cheeks, pale skin, his eyes covered by a strange white blindfold. It had strange symbols on it, written in blood. No one really knew what they meant, but one looked like an upside down capital 'A' with a few lines going down across the bottom. The next looked like half star upside down with the two ends at top coming down in two lines past the bottom point, and the last one was a swirl like a pinwheel that was X-ed out.
Strange carnival-like music played in the background as he smirk
The Boogeyman WatchesDon't misbehave, young one. For if you do, He will come for you. Usually at night, either when you are at your weakest such as being tired andThe Boogeyman Watches7 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
fatigued, or when are you are asleep. He goes by many names, and he has been around for so long that even he doesn't remember his original name and
all he knows is that he was given a task: To terrorize and devour children, especially ones who misbehave since he believes that eating these will give
him more strength to be evil, while there are those who believe that he takes them to some place that is so horrifying that they are never seen again.
Some believe that this place is either Hell or another dimension that is just as bad. And he always watches you, no matter what you do. So behave, and he might
let you live. You may only know him as one name that is common for him: The Boogeyman, and God help you if he finds you
Creepypasta: The World within Our OwnCreepypasta: The World within Our OwnCreepypasta: The World within Our Own8 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
Well, here you are. A city boy who had just moved in with their uncle in Williamsbrook, a town with a population of 223 including you. Barely enough to qualify as hamlet material, really. You are currently standing about a hundred or so yards from the barn that is your destination. You know what you will find inside: nothing. These rural legends always amount to jack shit, and no wonder. If there was really anything odd out here it would have been investigated to death by all those paranormal news things that are so popular on the Internet, and they never turn up anything substantial either. Buncha hicks with too much time and boredom probably got drunk and started spreading the first sightings of him.
The one they call the Watcher.
Those who’ve claimed to have seen him always maintained it was around the locale of this barn. Before long it became a commonly accepted part of the myth that it was his dwelling. As you approach the barn you thin
How To Get Rid of HeadachesEver since I was a kid, I would always, ALWAYS get these horrible headaches. I don't know if ti's because of allergy's, or if I wasn't getting enough water, but, almost every week, I would get a headache.How To Get Rid of Headaches1 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
I tired everything, you know. I took aspirin, it took to long to work. I tried just sleeping, but, the pain never let me rest. Nothing worked.
But then, a couple years later, i found something.
When I first feel a headache coming on, this is what I do.
I put my fingers up to my temple, and pushed down lightly, even rub a little. The pain rushes away almost instantly, it shocked me a little.
It was perfect.
Now, headaches wouldn't ruin my day anymore.
Soon, it began to wear off a little. I would feel the pain in the back of my brain, and I would put my fingers up to my head lightly, but, for some reason, it wasn't working this time. so, I pushed a little harder. It hurt, but only for a moment, then the pain would go away, just like before.
I learned, that, the pain in my head would