Paranormal Documentary – “Monsters and Mythical Creatures of Chinese Mythology”

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Paranormal Documentaries – “Unsettling Urban Legends With Evil Backstories”

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Paranormal Documentaries – “A HUGE List of Unsettling & Mysterious TRUE Stories to Keep You Awake…”

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Paranormal Documentaries: “THIS Is WHY Tourists Are SCARED Of These Places!”

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Paranormal Documentaries – “80+ Scary Ghost Videos, Images & Stories | Creepy Paranormal Compilation”

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Paranormal Documentaries – “Mind Bending Paranormal Encounters – 76 True Stories Unveiled”

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Paranormal Documentaries – “Mystery Archives Unexplained Paranormal Hour”

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Creepypasta – “Lies From The Pit” (Text)

Lies From The Pit
Written By: A. K. Kullerden
Estimated reading time — 11 minutes

The pit, the abyss, it was always there. At least, as far as I can remember. The first time I heard its call, it was subtle, almost unnoticeable. My mother was reading her pick-and-choose verses from the book, looking back up at me after each reading with an expectant look in her eyes. She tried so hard to belittle me, scolding me on how wrong it was to like men, but I was never swayed. Still, the call grew stronger every time she sat me down for her dogmatic ramblings, but it would only show itself to me later on in life.

Not once did I believe she became a Christian in good faith. Way I see it, she only did so as a way to excuse her more toxic behaviours. It’s no wonder I got into my first real relationship during college, since it was the first time I was really free from her endless remarks on my so-called “dirty ways”.

I don’t know exactly what went down in the time I was away, but after dropping out of engineering and coming back home my parents were already living apart with divorce papers in order. And, like a pattern, propagating in time, Eric told me that this – us – wouldn’t work out. My attachment blinded me to how shallow Eric was. He never said anything outright, but it was obvious how he saw me as lesser than himself.

My mum said that if, after finishing my engineering course, I still wanted to pursue carpentry, then I would have the skills required. I guess she hoped I’d set my focus on greater horizons, but it didn’t help me achieve anything.

It was better, living with just my dad. He helped me through it all, but it’s always such a slippery rut I’ve found myself in. I still dreamed of being a carpenter, but even he could see that I wasn’t in the right state of mind to start a whole business. We ended up deciding that I would apply for some bog-standard transient jobs with the aim of saving up money for a carpentry course.

That never really happened. At 19, I started working at an office, spreadsheets, emails, that kind of stuff. Four years later, dad first started showing signs of early-onset dementia. At 54. It’s such a hopeless feeling to watch your father degenerate into a confused mess, and looking back I think it would’ve been better if he was struck by a heart attack.

After two more years, I was up one raise and down everything else. It was January when the pit first revealed itself to me, a late weekend night of remote overtime, the only way I could afford the ever-rocketing living costs.

The work was harsh, mind-numbing, and I kept having to go back to fix mistakes, over and over, my tired mind fucking it up, as it always did. My feet were cold to the point where I could barely feel them, even when I tried moving and wiggling my toes around. I knew I was moving my feet, but there was no feeling.

I looked down to see that, where the navy carpet had been, sat a circular hole in the floor. Almost perfect, but not. A gaping pit, walls of masterfully carved black stone, that descended into thick blankets of darkness. I forcefully pushed myself away from the desk, tumbling off my chair, then crawled over to the edge of the hole. As I peered over the crevice, the only sound was a low breeze. A cold earthen breath I imagined blowing throughout the tunnels of a cave.

You know that feeling? The call of the void? The subtle tug toward one step into nothing. I felt it. Only, the rejection of the idea that usually followed just wasn’t there. It didn’t scare me, only continued to pull me in. Gazing down into it, the knots in my stomach, pulled tight by the years, came loose. An unrestrained warmth took over my body as the pit seemed to strip away the weight on my heart, accepting the burden for itself.

Before the thought of toppling into the abyss took over entirely, my phone buzzed on the desk, breaking my trance. It was Eric.

“Eric? What’s up, man. Why are you calling so la-”

“Stop with the messages, Porter. I get you’re sad and all but can you, like, take it somewhere else? I’m with someone else now and I don’t want you stirring up any shit.”

I looked up to the shelves above my desk for a moment. At the picture I had of Eric and myself at college. It was pathetic, years had passed but I still couldn’t let go.

“Hello? Tell me you understand.”

I brought myself back and replied,

“Yeah. Um, sorry, Eric. Just hoped we might be able to stay friends at least.”

“Well, not if you go on like this. Thanks, I guess.”

He hung up, leaving me standing there like an idiot. Well, that I was. The silence that replaced his voice rang in my ears, mocking me, and when I looked back down to the floor, the hole was gone. It left an emptiness in my chest that could only be made whole again by looking down into that dark abyss.

The gentle breeze from that pit followed me. I heard it inside, outside, day or night, sometimes loud and present, other times so distant I thought it was just the wind. Not really an earworm, though, it felt more like a reminder, making sure I didn’t forget about the tunnel.

Later that week I was in for work. Only half an hour after getting in, Dennis – my manager – called me into his office. Some bullshit about underperforming, I wasn’t really listening to be honest. I rightfully disagreed, not out loud. I’d been giving as much effort to the work as I could at the time. He won’t be reading this, so fuck you Dennis. Your job is to manage, not to call in anyone you can get, and sneer down your nose at them. Asshole.

I nodded to whatever he said, and left his office. My stomach churned, what was I meant to do? Work harder than I already was? I excused myself to the toilet, needing to steady myself. A spiral was already corkscrewing its way down my spine.

I locked myself in one of the stalls and let my forehead rest against the door. Trying to calm your nerves can make things worse when you’re on a tight schedule – how long could I stay here while also making sure my papers for the day would be all done by five?

I turned around to see that, in lieu of a toilet, was the pit. How long had it been there, waiting for me? There was no spike of adrenaline. No, dopamine if anything. It’d come back to see me, like it said it would.

The fluorescent buzz began to fade away as I fell to the floor, and so did the smell of floor cleaner and poorly-masked piss. My hands pressed into the cheap, sticky laminate floor as I lowered my face down into the abyss.

The cold whispering of air had changed. It sounded faintly like a whistle, distant but growing clearer. It was… so alluring. A lullaby crafted for me and no-one else. My arms reached down into the hole, pulling me further and further in. The darkness extended deep, deep down – I was on the fifth floor, yet I could see no end to its depth.

In that thick, heavy shadow, something moved upwards. Pale, angular, limbs too numerous and erratic to count. This would be my guide to wherever the pit led, to somewhere better. Peace and tranquillity. Charon is a misunderstood fellow – he only wishes to lead the dead to where they belong.

The melody was clear now. It was bittersweet, like reminiscing on bad choices, but accepting that the past is the past. The words to the tune came from my own mind, and I found myself whispering,

“One step, into the dark,
Light hides just beyond,
No one will know, even dear old pa,
Here is the peace for which you long.”

It was right. Who would know, and who would care? My mum, wherever she is, would likely be indifferent, and my dad would soon forget all about me. I clearly wasn’t a valuable asset to the company either, and Eric would be happy to never hear from me again.

As the blurry thing in the pit grew closer, the song grew louder, all else falling away. The gentle breeze whipped up into a galeforce tempest of cold air that seemed to wrap around me like tendrils and pull me in further.

I reached out my hand to meet my guide halfway, when the ear-splitting BANG of the bathroom door jolted me back to reality. Did I really want this? Was it really better on the other side? Whatever that thing was, approaching rapidly, I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to meet it.

“Porter, you in here? Boss says the papers need to be done and signed by four, so hurry the fuck up, yeah?”

I arched my head back to the stall door and replied,

“Yeah Jim, just a minute. Indigestion.”

The door slammed again, leaving me alone. When I looked back down, I flinched as my head bumped into the toilet bowl, coming off slightly wet from the residue. No pit, nothing. I returned to my desk, and saw upon checking my email a message without any named sender.

‘COME BACK’

That’s all it said. The song played over and over in my head while I stared at those two words. Out of my lips tumbled, “I will,” and I clicked off the email. I tried blocking the sender, more out of curiosity than anything, but there was no sender to block. I managed to finish my workload for the rest of the day and handed it in on time, with no particular gratitude from Dennis or anyone else. No surprise there.

I paid dad a visit that weekend, at the hospice. When I entered his room he was staring listlessly out the window while some old songs fit for a gramophone played from the old radio beside him.

“Hey, dad.”

His head rolled around to look at me side-on.

“Oh, hello there. What time is it?”

I could tell he was only trying to be polite, that he didn’t really know who was talking to him, and changing the subject for that reason.

“It’s a quarter to three. How are you feeling today? I brought you some custard creams.”

He turned around some more to look at me, down at my hands and then back up with a smile.

“These are my favourite, how’d you know?”

The corners of my brow fell and I brought a hand up to block a potential tear.

“I, uh, it’s me, Porter. I’m your son.”

“I… I don’t…”

The look of confusion on his face told me all I needed to know. I’d been able to remind him who I was before, but now it was no use. I was all but lost to him. Was he even aware he had a son? I don’t know. There was desperation in his eyes, but the dementia won over.

I didn’t say anything more. I pulled up a chair next to him and sat, following his gaze out the window to nothing in particular. At least I could give him some company, even if he had no idea who I was. Looking through the smudge-covered glass I could hear that melody, whistling in my ears, and I knew it called to me again.

“What do you do when it seems the only direction you can go is off the edge of a cliff?” I asked.

“Wait. Look around, far and wide, to see if there’s a bridge across. If there’s no bridge, then you better set about building one. Doesn’t have to be rigid neither, just strong enough for one crossing.”

The lucidity in his answer shocked me for a moment, and I understood what he meant, but I also couldn’t grasp why he’d still think that, when he was so lost and hollow like this.

“What if the bridge collapses halfway across?”

“Hm? Bridge?”

I sighed, “never mind.”

I stood, pulled the chair back to the corner, and left dad with his biscuits. Was that it? Had he forgotten all about me? The questions weren’t answered as I walked out of the room. They say you die a second time – when your name is spoken for the last time. If I died that night, I’d have already died twice. Not figuring in the people at work, because fuck them. Dad wouldn’t be any the wiser, and mum wouldn’t care. Nor Eric.

My sleeve was damp by the time I got home, wiping away tears so I could actually see the road. I don’t know why I cared anymore. Perhaps I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. I unlocked my front door and went into the house. A cold and empty place that I called home. My whole body ached with anguish as I climbed my way up the dark staircase.

I couldn’t sleep, of course. Why would I be able to? A good night’s rest wouldn’t make dad better. It wouldn’t make Eric come back, and it wouldn’t help me become a carpenter. I couldn’t even cobble the pieces of my life back together, let alone wooden joists or ply sheets.

Slumped in the chair at my desk, I looked up at the shelves above. There was a framed picture of an eight-year-old me with my dad, doing some DIY carpentry on a doorframe, and on the shelf above, a picture of me and Eric at a college party. I loathed the sight of them. They were nothing but painful reminders of what I’d already lost. It was all gone. I pulled out my phone and went to notes, writing a message to send to Eric. I hoped he was happy with the way things turned out, how he let me go over the pettiest of reasons. Life must be so easy for him, huh? Still, I couldn’t break my attachment. I needed someone to guide me.

I gave up a few sentences in, placing my phone face down on the desk. Hope was evacuating my body rapidly, but in truth, it wasn’t a bad feeling. After all, why should I feel anxious or scared if there was nothing left to worry about? No, it was acceptance. This world was never meant for me.

But, I recognised the feeling. I knew instinctively what it meant. I looked down underneath the desk, but only saw the frayed, blue carpeting. I started cackling hysterically. It was funny. Now, I’d even been abandoned by the pit that had called for me. This was it. My emotions, my dreams, leaving me one last time.

A blast of freezing air poured over my head from above with a loud whoosh, and something wrapped around my throat. It was cold, clammy, and powerful. The thing grasping my neck began to pull me up off the chair. My legs thrashed wildly, trying to find a foothold, and as I looked up, I saw it. The pit. It hadn’t abandoned me, but in that moment I didn’t want it anymore. A gaunt, pallid arm was reaching out of the darkness, clamping tighter and tighter around my neck, and it was attached to a mass of writhing limbs that wanted nothing but me.

I scraped animalistically at the arm that I hung from, but it was no use. It was a grip of cold steel. I managed to kick a foot up onto the desk enough to give my body some slack, but it would be no use when I was dragged up further. I looked around frantically for something that could help, but the only thing in reach was the picture frame with me and Eric.

Holding onto the bony wrist above me, I reached out with my free hand and grabbed the picture. I brought it up to my face and slammed it into my forehead. Blood erupted and poured down my face, but the glass was shattered. I felt lightheaded, and my feet totally lost footing on the desk, dangling uselessly. Using my teeth I picked out the largest glass shard still left on the picture, then dropped the broken item to the ground. I grasped the shard and I attacked. Slicing, stabbing, maiming the horrid limb that wanted my end.

But the world was fading, and fast. The howls and screeches of the creature above me sounded like they were underwater. I saw the rim of the black stone tunnel pass in front of me, falling away to reveal only cold and dark.

‘I can’t go. Not yet. There’s things I need to do, god, give me another chance.’

I don’t know how far I was dragged into the abyss, but hand’s grip weakened, and it let go with a rage-filled wail. I didn’t fall back into my room though, I just kept falling. The darkness twisted and swirled, shaping into visions of those taken victim by the pit. Those found dead with no clear motives – at least, none that could be understood by the living. I saw my father lying on his bed, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, unaware of the gaping hole waiting for him just beneath the bedframe. I screamed, then passed out.

I woke up gasping on the floorboards of my bedroom, lying on top of broken glass and dried blood. I shot up to a sitting position and looked above me. The ceiling was unbroken in its off-white mundanity. The pit was gone, and so was its call.
My body fell back to the floor, sobbing and heaving in exasperation. I was alive, somehow. Face all cut up, neck raw and bruising, palm lacerated messily, but alive. My flame had almost been snuffed out, but there was so much wax left in my candle. It couldn’t go out yet, not until I saw what there was after it all melted away.

I looked down at the broken picture frame. Eric’s face stared back in a sneer, and I stood up and stomped on it until it was nothing more than split wood and torn paper. I needed him as much as he needed me. Dad needed me though. Even if he forgot who I, who he was, I had to stick with him until the end. I couldn’t just leave without him.

I’m looking out the window at the first rays bursting from the horizon. Their warmth spills across my face, and with the warmth is calm. Different to the calm brought on by total loss of hope. Because there is hope. I don’t know what for, but the fact that it’s there is all I need.

If the pit calls to you, please think about what you’re doing. It lies. There’s no light past the shadows. It stays dark, and cold, and there is no salvation. I can’t claim to know what the thing down there wants, truly, but it doesn’t care about you.

Sitting here now, hell… the sunrise looks just a little bit prettier than before.


Read this story and more on Creepypasta at https://www.creepypasta.com/lies-from-the-pit/.

Creepypasta – It Was Underneath (Text)

It Was Underneath
Written By: Randall Rydell Russell

Estimated reading time — 7 minutes

Three shredded arms and various disemboweled body parts were spread across Billy Ferguson’s bedroom. They were randomly on the floor near his Hot Wheels cars, Star Wars toys and Nintendo Switch controllers. The limbs bled out onto his white Super Mario carpet. One leg was still twitching, and the head of Dylan Kronkite stared at Billy with lifeless eyes.
Little Billy sat on his bed, crying and hugging his knees. He heard the deep growling and the sounds of bones being chewed on under his bed. Billy did not know if it was Dylan’s bones being chewed on or his other friend Hector’s, who was also staying over. All Billy knew was his older brother Danny was right, a monster did live under his bed.

At fifteen, Danny was six years older than Billy. Danny had an athletic build but does not use any of that athleticism for good. He just used it for skateboarding and getting into trouble. Danny loved to torment Billy just like any other older brother would. Danny would tell Billy about jumping out of the bathtub fast or he would get sucked down the drain; he also used to tell him if he ate candy, little candy goblins would come at night, cut up his stomach and retrieve the candy because he was not ten yet. So, every Halloween or even at the store if they had allowance money to spend on the weekend or something along those lines, Billy would reluctantly give Danny all his snacks and treats. He overheard Danny one day on the phone tell a friend that he was so stupid and would believe anything. After hearing that and catching Danny and his friends smoking cigarettes, he quickly told their mom, which led to Danny being grounded for a month. A day later, Billy and Danny’s mother let Billy have Dylan and Hector over for a sleepover and Danny was to stay in his room the whole night. Mrs. Ferguson bought Billy and his friends pizza, junk food, soda and gave them free range to watch almost anything on Netflix, Prime and Hulu. Billy had it made and to top it off it was a three-day weekend. For once, Billy was the one winning in the house and Danny was finally low man on the totem pole.

That power was short lived; as Billy, Dylan and Hector played on the Nintendo Switch, Danny stood in the doorway to tell the kids not to sleep on the floor because there is a monster under Billy’s bed. Dylan and Hector were taken back by this, and not in a good way. Billy, still riding high from after taking his older sibling’s supremacy, told Danny he no longer believed anything he said and that he heard him on the phone making fun of him. Billy also added that he would tell their mom everything Danny had ever done to him if he did not leave, he and his friends alone. Danny understood but warned them again that a monster lived under Billy’s bed then exited the room. Dylan was visibly scared, so Billy and Hector tried their best to ensure Dylan that Danny was just trying to scare them. Dylan slowly calmed down and the three of them continued to play Nintendo.

A few hours later, Billy was fast asleep in his bed, snoring away like a madman. Dylan and Hector were asleep on the floor in front of Billy’s bed. They both were on small mats with pillows and a blanket. Empty pizza boxes, candy wrappers and soda cans where on the dresser near the TV. The sleepover had worn all three of them out.

Something started smelling Dylan’s foot. This woke him up causing him to look around Billy’s room. Billy and Hector were just sleeping away as Dylan looked around in disarray. Dylan pulled his feet under the blanket to give him a sense of security to ease his mind. He turned his sights to Billy’s spinning night light. The silhouette of neon-colored superheroes appears and reappear around the walls of the bedroom. Lying back down on the mat, he closed his eyes and began his descent back to sleep.

A low growling sound woke Dylan back up. Dylan sat up looking at Billy’s bed. The growling sound is low but heavy and scary. Dylan tried to get Billy and Hector’s attention but did not want to be loud either. The low growl is heard again. Dylan’s heart was about to come out of his chest, he was terrified. He began to wet himself due to the shaking and inability to not be afraid. Something came over him and he grew a desire to see what was under the bed. Billy’s comforter covered the front of the bed and touched the floor. Though his hands shook like he was in zero-degree weather, he wanted to get over his fear and prove to himself that he was braver than what his friends thought.

Dylan got close to the bed to show himself that nothing was under the bed. He took a deep breath and lifted the comforter. Where an open space to see under the bed should be, there in its place are sharp teeth the size of iPads or tablets with white foam covering all of the teeth. Dylan was now frozen with fear, unable to say a word. As he began to finally let out a scream, two reptilian clawed hands appeared from under the side of the bed, clawing into Dylan while grabbing him. The mouth opens and the teeth began devouring Dylan; body parts began rolling and falling all over the ground.

Hector woke up to the horrific scene of sharp teeth, slithering lips and lizard like hands clawing into his friend. Hector’s scream wakes up Billy who also freezes like stone at the sight Dylan’s dead body.

“Get on my bed hurry!” Billy screamed to Hector.

Hector does not make it a foot- the reptilian hands grabbed Hector, split his body in half and shoved the rest of his body in his mouth. More blood, guts, intestines and body parts accompanied the rest of them. Billy just sat on his bed hugging his knees.

The reptilian hands slowly slithered back under the bed. Only sound heard besides Billy’s pounding heart was the gnawing sounds of bones being chewed on under his bed. Billy looked around his room and at his door. Though terrified, Billy wondered if he could make it to his door.

He felt if he ran hard and fast off his bed, he could make it out of the room and to freedom. The scaley clawed hands were gone and whatever was under his bed was still chewing on bones and human flesh. Billy crouched up on his feet in his bed. He tried to control his movements; he doesn’t want to waste any energy. He just needed to get off his bed, turn the doorknob and book it out of the room. He had to keep playing the scenario in his head and not choke when it was time to make a move. Billy took one last deep breath, raised out of bed, jumped to the floor and took a short sprint to the bedroom door.

He opened his door, preparing to exit the room, until one of the reptilian hands grabbed him and took him to the ground hard. Billy is dazed and his vision is blurry. He hit his head when he hit the ground and he mostly just wanted to cry from pain, fear and exhaustion.

A large lizard like head slowly stuck his head out from under the bed. It’s eyes are yellow with glowing red pupils. Saliva and white foam drips from its sharp teeth. It began pulling Billy towards its opening mouth. Billy screamed until a familiar voice was heard and Billy stopped moving. He painfully turned around to see Danny in the doorway.

“Let him go.” Danny told the monster. The monster quickly does what he was told, slithering back under Billy’s bed.

“I didn’t expect him to go that crazy.” said Danny. Billy lost it and began crying.

“That thing killed my friends. They are dead.” Billy said, pulling himself away from all the bloody limbs.

Danny walked in the room, bending down to his little brother. “We used to move around a lot until you were born. I was able to control it when I was younger. Mom and Dad thought it was some Act of God or the devil. I didn’t see how they went hand in hand, but I could make things happen. Just by thinking about it. For your sake, I stopped using this… power. I did it because Mom and Dad asked me too. It freaked dad out and that’s why he left. But Mom begged me to control it which I promised I would. But the older you got, the more attention you got, you became like a threat to me and something deep within me, started boiling out. But I was still able to control it. Don’t ask me how.” said Danny, looking at his brother with honest yet insane brown eyes.

“If you were controlling it, then how did this happen tonight?” asked a terrified Billy to an insanely calm Danny.

“When you got me grounded, something took over me,” Danny said in a sullen tone and withdrawn, looking almost embarrassed by what was taking place and then a smile appeared on his face. “I was afraid of what was happening to me, at first. I realized what I could do with it. What I could do to people who tested him. That’s why you were my first test subject when I decided to let go. I would never hurt you or Mom, but everyone else was free game.” Danny told Billy.

Billy just looked at Danny. He was now more disturbed than ever. Danny was a stranger to him now and he did not know who was in his room anymore. Danny told Billy that Dylan and Hector did not matter either, they were expendable. The number of times they had to move when Danny’s ‘gift’ affected their living situation, they were needing to start packing because Dylan and Hector’s parents would start asking questions soon and the authorities would get involved. Danny suggested that Billy should start packing anything he wanted to bring because they were going to have to get going after he called their mom from her shift at the hospital.

All Billy could think when he looked at his older brother was that he was no more. All that was left was a teenager who has become committed to embracing the dark power he had to create monsters. A power that meant danger for anyone that came across Danny, Billy thought. Billy knew this to be true since Hector and Dylan were killed by the monster that lived under his bed.


Read this story and more on Creepypasta at https://www.creepypasta.com/it-was-underneath/.

Creepypasta – “The Littlefork Bodysnatchers” (Text)

The Littlefork Bodysnatchers
Written by Andrew Layden:

Estimated reading time — 12 minutes

Over the past few decades, a disturbing rumor has spread throughout the backwoods settlement of Littlefork. People there tell tales of so-called “alternates,” who kidnap and impersonate the small town’s residents. Taking the form of their victims, they appear human at first glance. But the alternates possess uncanny facial features like dead, bulging eyes and unusually long limbs.

Of course, none of this concerned Dr. Emma Wilton. She was in search of another Littlefork legend: the ivory-billed woodpecker. Once the largest woodpecker in the US, the bird was now considered extinct by most ornithologists, Emma included. Although the last official sighting of the bird occurred in 1941, some in the area claimed to have seen a large bird with shiny black plumage not unlike those of the ivory-billed woodpecker.

Emma made the trip to Littlefork alone, stopping first at the town’s only hotel. An old, rickety porch wrapped around the front of the building. There two older men sat in wicker chairs with smoldering cigarettes between their fingers. They watched Emma with a blank stare. Smoke spilled from their lips.

Inside, a portly woman sat behind the counter. She sighed as Emma approached as if annoyed that she actually had to work. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes. I booked a room. It should be under Robert Monroe,” Emma said.

The woman blinked long and slow. “You’re not Robert Monroe.”

“No. But the room was booked for two people.”

“That’s right,” the receptionist said.

“And I’m the second person. I’m Emma Wilton.”

“I see,” the woman said, “And where is Mr. Monroe?”

“He decided not to come.”

“Why not?”

“That’s personal.” Emma forced a smile, but it was hard to hide the irritation in her voice.

“Well, I can’t let you stay in the room. It’s booked under his name.”

Emma sucked her teeth and glanced around the dingy interior of the hotel. Aside from the two men out front, the place was dead. “Meaning no offense, but this doesn’t look to be a busy hotel.”

“None taken,” the receptionist replied dryly.

“What are the chances someone would come to the hotel and correctly guess the name of a guest?”

The fat receptionist pushed a greasy strand of hair behind her ear and shrugged. “Company policy. You can call him if –”

“No,” Emma said quickly. “You must have his number on file. How about you call him? Okay?”

With a sigh, the woman picked up the phone and dialed Robert’s number. While they waited for him to pick up, Emma paced around the lobby. She stopped by a bulletin board, which only had two papers pinned to it. One was a flier for a local concert scheduled for two months ago. The other was a wrinkled notice about a missing girl. According to the faded, black letters, the girl’s name was Ashley. She had disappeared two years ago at the age of sixteen. Sad. But again, it was none of Emma’s concern.

While the receptionist dialed Robert’s number a second time, the old men from the porch entered. “Don’t get many visitors,” said the first. He was missing most of his teeth, and his breath reeked of tobacco.

“Not safe around these parts,” said the second. He had thin, shriveled lips that seemed to stretch to the edges of his face. He pointed to the missing person poster on the bulletin board.

Emma offered a polite smile. “I’m just here for the forest,” she said.

“That’s exactly the place you need to avoid. There’s a killer in those woods. Done skinned poor Ashley, and she ain’t the only one,” the toothless man said.

“Not so. Wasn’t no killer,” the other said. His friend shook his head and sighed. “They say she was seen in the neighbor’s barn. But she wasn’t nothing but a cheap copy. A fake.” An alternate. Emma had heard the tales, but she didn’t have the energy to argue with a couple of old men.

“Yes, well, I will be careful. Thank you for your concern.”

Fortunately, Emma was called over by the receptionist, who happily informed her that she could not reach Robert. Having left him a message, the receptionist told Emma she could leave her luggage and walk around the town in the meantime. It was just as well. She had had enough of the hotel and the irritating people inside it.

With a camera slung around her neck, Emma decided to venture into the forest for an early start on her research. The ancient woodland encircled Littlefork on all sides. Like a fetid, green shadow, it lurked behind every building and at the end of each road. However, there were no entrances into the Littlefork Forest. They had all gone unused and overgrown with vegetation. Gnarled branches crossed over one another like a wall of mossy veins, and from the earth rose tall reeds of grass that hid the forest interior from view.

Just behind the hotel, Emma found a small gap in the trees. Petite as she was, she managed to slip through without much effort. Yet, just as she disappeared into the shaded woods, Emma felt a cold gaze on her neck. She glanced back and saw the men from the hotel watching her. Their faces were blank and expressionless.

She thought nothing of it. Emma had more pressing matters on her mind. After her conversation with the receptionist, she began to think about Robert Monroe. An esteemed ornithologist like herself, Robby was a silver-tongued man with a chiseled jaw and piercing, blue eyes. And whether by luck or sheer force of will, he was also the sort of man that acquired anything his heart desired. So it wasn’t long before Emma fell under his charms and into his bed.

In between their frequent bouts of lovemaking, Emma and Robby found time to collaborate on academic ventures. Even professionally, they had chemistry. Their interests and ideas always complemented one another, and together they had published a few papers. So, as their personal and professional lives faded into one another, Emma found herself thinking about Robby at all hours of the day. And in time, her thoughts turned to the future.

This would not be a problem for any other couple in a relationship. However, from Robby’s perspective, they were not in fact in a relationship. Therefore, when Emma began discussing her desire to have a daughter one day and how lovely their own children might look, Robby decided to set the record straight. He also decided it would be healthy for them to go their separate ways.

Emma cursed herself for being so oblivious. Part of her hoped this search for the ivory-billed woodpecker would train her to be more attentive. Yet, as she looked around at the expansive canopy of trees, she saw no creatures, not even a squirrel or a sparrow. She listened for the repetitive tap tap tap of a woodpecker’s beak. But Emma heard only a soft, sighing wind and the groan of shifting branches.

Woodpeckers have a particular fondness for dead trees. So Emma followed a path of decay to deeper and darker sections of the woods, where hollowed oaks and twisted beeches lay in toppled wrecks. Shadows played against their shattered bodies as the sun descended into evening.

While Emma gazed around in search of the bird, she noticed a rustling among the trees. At first, she thought it might be the rustle of a creature in the canopy. But whatever made the sound was bigger. As it moved through the forest, it shook entire trees so that their rotten trunks bent and snapped. Emma could even feel the ground tremble as the beast drew near.

Backing up slowly, Emma raised her camera. Through the lens, she glimpsed a small fraction of what lumbered through the trees. At once, she grew sick from that oozing and unwholesome form riddled with scabrous growths and hair-like filaments. The creature uttered a gurgling moan. Panic filled her, and she staggered backward in fear.

As a fleshy tendril reached towards Emma, her foot slipped on a twisted root, and she tumbled down a hill. The hill was not so tall or steep to warrant concern. However, when Emma fell backwards, her head struck the corner of a jagged rock. The last thing she remembered before her vision went dark was the crunch of her camera beneath her.

No doubt concussed from the head trauma, Emma passed between bouts of waking and unwaking. And in that limbo between dream and reality, she saw herself carried away by a looming mass of writhing flesh. It wrapped her in its moist appendages and stroked her belly in a swift, obsessive circle. Although terrifying to look at, the creature was not evil in itself. On the contrary, it doted over her well-being with warm, gentle touches not unlike a mother with her child.

Once Emma came to, she found herself in a cave on a bed of moss. Moonlight shone through a hole in the stone ceiling. It fell on her like a pale spotlight upon a stage. Yet, as far as Emma could tell, there was no audience watching her.

The comforting environment eased her nerves to a small degree. Emma found herself able to rationalize all that had happened. She told herself the beast was nothing more than a mangey bear. Frightened, she had tripped and fallen through the hole in the cave ceiling. All that nonsense about being tended to by a fleshy monster was nothing more than a dream.

Indeed Emma felt completely calm and rational. Her only concern was the gash atop her head. But judging by the dried clumps of blood in her hair, the wound had already clotted. In addition, Emma still felt sick to her stomach. No doubt, it was a lingering effect of that revolting and wholly imagined nightmare.

A low chatter rumbled through the cave, and Emma saw a shadow play against the walls. She looked around for her camera but found it was missing. “Hello?” she said. There was no reply. “Is someone there? I’m hurt.” But no one answered.

Emma got to her feet. Her stomach flopped, and her head dizzied. Regardless, she pushed ahead. She had to get back to the hotel. No doubt, the receptionist would have something snarky to say. But she needed proper medical care and a bed. Hopefully, Robby had returned the receptionist’s message.

As Emma stumbled down the dank passages of the cave, she came upon a group of childlike drawings scrawled in chalk. Under the slanted moonlight, these drawings depicted happy families with wide, goofy smiles. Innocent as they were, there was something off about the drawings. The family member’s forms and expressions were stretched and skewed as if the artist did not fully understand the human body.

What’s more, there was a sketch of some other form. Not by any stretch of the imagination could it be confused with a human. Long, cystic limbs surfaced from spotted globs of flesh while lidless eyes bulged from sparsely hairy masses. It was not certain what this abomination had to do with the grinning families, but it was certain Emma had seen it before.

Emma pressed on through dank and dreary tunnels. She followed broad, smoothed out paths that coiled this way and that. She trudged past cold, inky pools whose depths she could not fathom. All the while, her head ached, and her stomach panged. She clutched her gut. It was bloated and firm.

After a seemingly endless sequence of passages, Emma came upon the exit. The first morning light peaked above the horizon, penetrating the forest in pale swaths. Had she really been in the cave that long? It didn’t matter. Emma had entered the forest from the east. If she followed the rising dawn, she could find her way back to Littlefork.

Just then, a guttural bellow erupted behind her, and Emma heard the dull scrape of flesh against stone. At once, she ran into the forest as fast as she could. She ran without looking back, knowing she wouldn’t like what she saw.

And yet, despite her desperation, Emma could only run so fast and so far. Her feet were heavy, and her stomach throbbed with acute pain. When she could force herself no longer, she leaned against the trunk of a rotted birch and gazed down at the source of her pain.

Her belly was massive. She pulled up her shirt to get a better look. Blue veins struck sharp paths across her skin. And although there was no obvious sign of injury, that didn’t rule out the possibility of internal bleeding. Judging by the size of her gut, the bleed was serious. Without help, it would certainly prove fatal.
Emma placed her hand on her stomach and thought of Robby. All she had wanted was love and the joy of a child. But now Robby was gone, and she would bleed to death in some forsaken forest, afraid and alone.

But Emma was not alone. As if reaching out for her hand, an infant limb stretched against the walls of Emma’s abdomen. She stared at her stomach in disbelief. But there was no denying what she had seen and felt. Something was inside of her.

The sudden pregnancy shocked Emma so much that she had almost forgotten why she had run into the forest in the first place. Behind her, the branches groaned and cracked. A mucousy heap of changeable limbs dragged itself into view. On its raw and oozing flesh, gaping eyes peered down at Emma. And though she saw no mouth that could utter a sound, Emma heard a shapeless baying as if of some great and terrifying hound.

By now, Emma knew there was no point to running in her current condition. She wouldn’t make it far. Already her body tensed with vicious contractions in an attempt to expel the growing parasite. So she fought back by flinging both rocks and obscenities. But by the sound of it, the creature was hurt more emotionally than physically; for it merely suffered Emma’s attacks with a disappointed whimper.

Although the revolting beast did not leave, it at least kept its distance. Its engorged eyes peered through the crooked trees while its tentacled limbs twisted and snapped. It was waiting.

Another contraction sent shivering pain through her loins. She felt something burst between her legs, and a gush of hot liquid spilled onto the ground. The writhing mass of contorted limbs cooed with delight.

Emma staggered to the ground. Birth is never a pleasant affair, but her pain was too sharp, too quick. Blood oozed down her thighs, soaking her trousers red. Tremors ran through her arms in tune with the violent pangs that wrenched her gut. And it took all her strength just to slip out of her clothes.

When she did – to her horror – she saw a pair of pink, wormy hands forcing their way into the open air. Emma bit her tongue to suppress the screams rising in her throat. But she could not resist the swelling current of terror and skin-splitting pain. As the parasitic child exorcised itself from her bleeding womb, her tortured wailings reached greater and greater heights.

Emma watched helplessly as the nearly human child ripped her cunt into a long and literal gash. By then, her agony had exceeded the limits of her perception so that each new injury was a mere wisp lost amid a hellish conflagration. There seemed no end to the torment. But in time her trials finished, and before her lay a raw and mewling infant.

The small creature looked up at Emma with eyes not unlike her own. It studied her briefly and mimicked her exhausted expression. And below the child’s left ear, she noticed a pair of black moles. It was a feature she had only ever seen in the mirror.

But there was something off about the child’s appearance. Its lifeless eyes sat too many inches apart, its limbs reached too far, and its familiar smile stretched too wide. Only at a glance could that thing be called human.

Just then, the lumbering mass beyond the trees issued a long bellow. Answering its command, the newborn scurried into the forest, dragging its shriveled afterbirth with it. That was the last Emma saw of it. As for the malformed beast, Emma was not safe just yet. The bristly heap of flesh peeled back the trees and pulled itself towards her.

Emma grabbed her clothes and rose to her feet. Hot gore spilled down her legs, and a dreadful ache smoldered inside her. But she would not let the beast take her again. “Leave me alone!” she screamed and threw a rock. Emma didn’t even wait to see if the rock hit. She bolted as far and fast as her feet would carry her.

For well on an hour, Emma jogged through the trees. When she could jog no more, she decided to walk. And when she could not walk, she stopped to dress. There was still a small trickle of blood, but for the most part, her wounds had clotted.

Dawn had bloomed in slanted shades of orange and red. A cool wind blew against Emma’s face, and the trees swayed to and fro. The only sounds were of the squirrels chattering, the sparrows tweeting, and an incessant tap tap tap. Emma craned her head to stare up at the trees, and it was then she saw it: the ivory-billed woodpecker. The regal bird hacked away at a dead oak with its strong, straight bill. Its feathers shone red, white, and lustrous black. The long-lost bird was a beauty to behold, but all Emma could feel in the moment was contempt.

In time, Emma found her way out of the forest and onto a narrow dirt path. She followed the long and lonely road back to Littlefork. There the townspeople called her an ambulance and sent her on her way. She did not tell them what she had endured. Nor did she tell the doctors at the hospital. They would not believe her. They would not understand.

Following the traumatic events in the woods, Emma entered a state of intense apathy. Her memories were now so full of pain. To avoid feeling them, she had learned not to feel at all. That night had changed her, and in her darkest hours, Emma wondered whether the monster had stolen her humanity as well as her womb.

A week after the event took place, Emma received a phone call. It was Robby. “Emma, I just heard the news. Are you okay?” he said.

“Yes,” Emma said. She did not want to talk about it, least of all with him. “I’m doing better now.”
“I am glad to hear that,” Robby said. “So it’s all true then? What happened? I got a call from the hotel one day and then the next …”

“We really don’t need to discuss it,” Emma said. “You made clear how you feel about me.”

Robby scoffed. “Just because I don’t want a serious relationship doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you. And of course I’m worried! The police said they found you naked in the woods.”

“What? What are you talking about? Police?”

“I know it’s embarrassing, but you don’t need to lie to me,” he said. “You attacked some lady and tried dragging her into the woods. They took you to a psych ward.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“I’m surprised they let you go to be honest.”

“Robby, that wasn’t me. When did this happen?”

“A couple days ago. But —”

Emma hung up the phone. She did not doubt Robby’s story, but she did not want to hear it. She already knew the truth. Someone had attacked that lady. Someone was in the psych ward. A second Emma. A copy. An alternate.


Read this story and more on Creepypasta at https://www.creepypasta.com/the-littlefork-bodysnatchers/.