Graffiti Joe: (NOW PUBLISHED ON CREEPYPASTA!) by THEMYSTERYWRITER, literature
Literature
Graffiti Joe: (NOW PUBLISHED ON CREEPYPASTA!)
It was the Christmas season. It had just gotten dark, as I was finally able to leave the office that night after working overtime. The streets were damped from the heavy rain; it had been an unusually warm winter. I stopped downtown for some Christmas shopping for the kids, just some last minute shopping before everything closed. When I first arrived, it was impossible to find a parking spot on the square, so I had to park a good three or four blocks away. I finished my shopping after an hour, got a few toys for the kids from some of the local stores, and I began to walk back to my car. My feet squeaked and splashed against the damped side
“Shit!” A loud metal clang punctuated the exclamation. The young woman stood and stretched in front of the exposed workings of the furnace. “Damn it – damn it – damn it!” She rearranged her hair into an efficient, if not perfectly tidy, bun. Her husband would have found it amusing if he saw it. He had called it “the bun of determination.” Samantha half smirked and chuckled slightly. She had never appreciated the name for it at the times she made it. Yet she had always accomplished what she had set to do when she wore the bun.
Samantha breathed and sighed. This was not the first time the furnac
The Beast at the Top of the Stairs by THEMYSTERYWRITER, literature
Literature
The Beast at the Top of the Stairs
Hello, my name is Jameson, but everyone just calls me Jaime. I have five years old, I live in a big house with my parents, I have lots of friends at kindergarten, and I can count to twenty-five. But I have a huge problem: there’s a beast at the top of the stairs.
My house has two stories, but the second story is only used for storage. My bedroom is right next to the stairs leading up to the second floor, and every night before bed I see it; I see the beast! Its dark with lots of fur that makes it look fat. It has short but thick arms that looks like they can tear anyone to shreds and short little legs. It has a big, fat, round nose wi
It was a bright, sunny day in Jacksonville, Florida. Just outside of the city, a small group of college students was taking a stroll on a trail through a forest. Then they decided to get closer to a stream just by the trail. There were a bunch of neat-looking plants by the stream the students wanted to check out. They were studying biology, and even though it was summer vacation the students wanted to continue studying plants and animals in their spare time.
All was going well, until one of the college students, Rick Thompson, slipped and fell into the stream. “Woo, way to go Rick!” cried out his friends; Sally Smith, B
The Best Cafe on Wallstreet by Ikeepboothin, literature
Literature
The Best Cafe on Wallstreet
In the back of the little café, a man in a suit and tie sat in a comfortable chair with his laptop open and muttered obscenities. Seemingly at random times, all those around him would hear him say things like, “fuck me in the ass,” or, “stupid fucking cock gobblers.” It was quite distracting.
For a while the customers had assumed the man just had tourettes, but as he sat there in his flawless Armani suit on that laptop it was becoming more and more obvious that he was in fact quite free from such deficiencies. He was older than most with pale wrinkled skin and white hair so long that it nearly reached his shoulde
The young man sang words to a song out loud while he walked down the city block. His earbuds were firmly fixed into his ears and his smart phone was set permanently to Pandora; ergo the world outside of his space could have been nothing but a void to the kid. This showed in his seemingly careless actions.
He walked slowly up the street with little care for anyone as he loudly sang whatever dirty words came up on his track. Old people shot dirty looks as he seemed not to care about their sensibilities. He bumped into people while texting some random woman he was eager for relations with, and still payed no mind. When in his zone there were ve
I looked at the unappetizing strand in the peanut butter and sighed. My wife makes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and uses the same knife to spread both condiments. As a result, sometimes the strawberry preserves get mixed in with the peanut butter.
I examined the strand for a minute before slathering it along my bread with a thick layer of peanut butter. One end of it was a small gelatinous blob, discolored from the peanut butter. The formerly red piece of strawberry had taken on a dull gray hue. From there, a thin strand dangled. The piece stretched across two points on the bread before it was covered by more peanut butter.
I talke