Nightmare fuel
I don’t have many nightmares. Some time ago, i had a really horrible one. It had to be one of the most disturbing things I’d thought of. So of course I spent a while playing with it, trying to turn it into a creepy pasta.
I liked what came out, but I’ve been tweaking it, wanting to make it more. The problem is, it’s very much a visual thing, so all I’ve been able to come up with is ‘haunted video’ kind of stories, and those are so cliche, and hard to do well.
But I want to share the core of it. It’s still kinda a work in progress.
Readmore, because this is very, very unpleasant.
Seriously, it has.. integrity. It’s creepy, it’s detailed, and it doesn’t add up in just the right places. It doesn’t go over the top, or shy away from giving too much detail, where there is detail to be given.
I wrote another pasta
TW: This is creepypasta. Do not read the story below unless you really want to be somewhat disturbed.
Note: This isn’t my writing, I just wanted to share it with my followers.
Do you know what a Cordyceps is? I didn’t either until 20 minutes ago. It’s a family of thousands of different types of fungus, grows all around the word in various rainforests and jungles. The awful thing about them is they’re parasitic, they grow on other animals. An ant happens to run into some spores, and then it starts to colonize his insides, starting with his brain. At some point, the ant starts to act visibly ill; standing in place and shivering, or walking in circles. If a fellow colony member sees him in this condition, he will be dragged to the border of the colony and exiled.Then, when it’s almost over, the ant weakly climbs as high as he can up the vines, and locks his body on tight. Finally, he dies, and the fungus emerges from the back of his head, bursting forth like a long and foul fruit. After a short time, the little stalk spews forth its own spores, leaving the mummified and broken ant clinging to the stalk, his eye cavities filled with drying fungus.
I mention this because last night, when I was up on the roof of my apartment complex, I found my brother’s body. He’s been back from 18 months on duty in the Philippines for less than three days. This was the first I’d seen him. My parents called me up the day before yesterday to tell me that he was on his way up. They told me he’d stayed in his room since he got home, and then suddenly got up and announced he was on his way to see me. They thought he was drunk, I thought he’d never made it.
He must have come straight up to the roof and died, by the smell of it. I was just finishing a cigarette, all torn up with anxiety and head throbbing, and when the acrid smoke vanished I caught a whiff of rot on the hot wind. It took me just a few minutes before I’d found him; face down behind the vents and fans. A slimy gray column rose up obscenely from the base of his skull, and a frozen waterfall of roots and tendrils was dangling from his eye sockets and mouth. At the top of stalk was small arrangement of feathery wisps, a white powder drifting idly from it tips.
The spores must have drifting over the north side of the building all day. My side of the building. I came down to my apartment to try to call up the police, and my headache was rising to a feverish throb. I got through the door, and the moment I reached for the phone, pain flared in my head, so bad I almost passed out. I’ve since tried three times and I can never get my hand up on it.
The same thing happens when I try to get up and leave the room; I feel spines of ice tunneling up into my skull and my limbs lock up and shudder.
The ants, in their last moments crawl as high up the vines as he can climb. This is so the spore will spread over more of the colony below. In the end, the parasite controls the ant with an almost intelligent drive. God help me.
The pain is almost blinding now, and a new thought has been rising up rhythmically in my head, like a record skipping. Up. Up. Up. It’s joined by an image of my office tower. It’s taller than my apartment, the tallest place I can think off and although the bulge on the back of my neck is the size of a peach, the skin stretched shiny, and I’m dizzy and my eyes are cloudy, I think I can make it there. Up.
No. I’m sick. I need help.
The building pulses again in my mind. The cold wind. The roof and the sky. These images and concepts dull the pain momentarily as they pass through my mind. I think I can get there. Up. Up.
If you live in downtown Chicago, I would get the fuck out.
Credited to Josef K.
..Haven’t read pasta that good in a long while.
(via crabkiddd)
So I know I promised a page of Hypnagogia, and it’s still coming, but…
DSFIJa;oijef LORN.
LROGN
LORN.
THIS IS PERFECT.
THIS IS BEAUTIFUL.
THIS IS AMAZING.
I JUST DON
LET ME RUB MY FACE IN IT
MORE PASTA
I’ve been thinking a lot about the nature of ‘true’ evil. And listening to Ironhand.
That, and a lot of sugar, inspired this piece.
It doesn’t have a proper name, if anyone wants to suggest one
Why am I afraid of the dark?
It’s Physics. Bloody quantum mechanics. The act of watching something changes it. Think about that. When we look at the world, we change it.
So what’s happening when we can’t observe? If we can’t see, touch, taste, smell, or hear- Is there anything there? Does the tree exist in a forest, if there’s no one there to observe it? Well, interact with it, at least.
I was drinking while I studied for a physics test, some months back. That was a terrible mistake. In a bit of a stupor, I had a thought: What if there’s something else, something other, behind the universe? Something vast but, without shape or form. Something the size of the universe but by its nature impossible to define. Yet our interactions with the world forced this chaos into shape, into definitions. That if there were nothing to interact with the universe, it wouldn’t exist. Something terrible would be here instead.
What if the universe itself is a prison and we are the guards? Always looking, hearing, and feeling. Defining the universe, we keep the chaos at bay.
Some mythology hints at this. Lucifer cast into the pit. Loki chained underground. Gods of evil, of chaos, bound where the light won’t reach. Outside all possible observation. How many religions claim the world was born out of chaos?
Maybe it’s all just the ramblings of an alcoholic. But I can’t get it out of my head.
And sometimes, in the dark, I can almost hear a sound, like the clink of chains.
I’d imagine these two wouldn’t take too kindly to one another.
Of course there’s no other space in the bar and they’re both too proud to leave and they end up pissing each other off more and more and therefore order more drinks until they’re both entirely wasted and end up having a passionate night at Slond’s place.This was originally for Corey but it changed and I don’t even know anymore.
This is my OTP, and they are totally gay for each other.
(via thetalee)
Well then
(discussing Slond and ol’ Rake)
C: looking longingly into each others eyes
C: and in the corner
C: a dribble of perriwinkle
C: accross the rakes thigh
L: … oh my god
oh my god why
Because Yaoi makes everything more beautiful. Yaoi is life, and religion, and the secret to happiness. Kawaii Kawaii Desu.
I haven’t been on the SCP wiki in.. over a year.
I don’t know how i let that happen.
But this is just perfect.
