My Creepypasta Site>
Far Liath WeatherFar Liath Weather by mmpratt99
Far Liath Weather
Nate Welsh didn’t mind the fog, but this particular fog made him uneasy. It moved disturbingly like a living intelligence, the long fingers of fog seemed to have an oily consistence as it reached out and caressed his face. It spun in great, towering spirals as it retreated before him, only to suddenly close in and envelope him.
Dimly ahead, he could just make out the lights of the other investigative team. Toward the west, the soft murmur of the ocean, and the continuous mournful drone of the fog horns.
Grimacing, he pulled the hood of his slicker further over his hairy ears, while moisture dripped from his long aquiline nose. His eyes narrowed slightly as he carefully regarded the ground visible in the narrow beam of light cast by his electri
Curiosity Killed the RatCuriosity Killed the Rat by mmpratt99
Curiosity Killed The Rat
It was ten minutes past two when the storm that was pummeling Curtisville finally slowed to a whisper. The nearby sea became as smooth as glass, and so pale with fog that it resembled a silver-plated mirror. Once again,the whole town soon disappeared beneath a veil of gray haze.
On the other side of Azalea Street, seven-year old Marc Henshaw stirred uneasily in his sleep as he dreamt of a crowd of shadowy figures emerging from a creepy, Hobbit-like house in the middle of a dark forest. They came armed with pitchforks, scythes, axes, clubs and knives, as if they were going up against a Hollywood-type monster.
Something was wrong. Faintly, he could smell smoke and burnt meat. And what was that noise? It sounded like sparklers crackling and popping.
The CanariesThe Canaries by mmpratt99
Nate McKeley didn’t hear the rats at first on account of the rain. The seven-year-old lay huddled in his bed, tightly clutching his co
Shadow, Fog and FirelightShadow, Fog and Firelight by mmpratt99
Shadow, Fog and Firelight
Weeeee-ooo! Weeeee-ooo! Weeeee-ooo!
Madeleine Hawthorne awoke to the mournful sound of the foghorn from nearby Hogan’s Gap. Faint streams of moonlight illuminated the foggy, rain covered panes of the large bedroom, revealing the walls of various posters and costumes, fabric and fashion accessories.
For a moment she lay staring up at the upper bunk where her sister Giselle, age ten, slept. Then she turned her head and looked at the round bay window opposite the bed. Wavering shadowy patterns glided slowly over the glass--shapes that didn’t seem to match any of the windblown trees or silvery rain trails. They seem more like a fantastic tumult of microscopic pond life rather than anything that could be visibly recognized from her backyar
On a Lonesome RoadOn a Lonesome Road by mmpratt99
On a Lonesome Road
It was Olivia Satoui who first noticed the mailbox on the return trip from Curtisville Jr. High. “Well, that’s weird,” the seventh-grader said, half aloud, frowning. “Looks like an old mailbox, but I”m sure it wasn’t there on the way to school.”
“What is?” Madeline Hawthorn sat beside her, rooting through her backpack. One of Olivia’s best friends, she sometimes got teased for her resemblance to the Brattina Stone
My Creepypasta Site>
The Basement of DoomCh. 1--Afterwards
I used to have the same recurring nightmare, especially during the summer months. I was back in that strange basement, wearing that same red dress and gold-beaded scarf. I no longer have that outfit, I got rid of it on advice of a shaman which I’ll tell you about much later. Well, back to my dream. I found myself in that ghastly basement again, in that mirrored hallway. The only difference was that I was behind those long narrow mirrors, slowly walking this long corridor, its plank walls greening with moss and mold, doors and windows broken by vandals.
The boundary between indoors and outdoors no long applied here. There was ivy sprouting from every shattered window, and the ceiling had mostly collapsed into piles of rotting lichened beams and roofing tiles that were themselves slowly being consumed by vegetation.
At first, everything was okay. In spite of all the apparent creepiness, I never felt ill at ease while picking through the ruins of this place. It was a bit like what I imagined exploring some ancient ruins would be...more like you were in a strange kind of nature park rather than a horror movie. Then, like in any horror movie, the atmosphere quickly changed. Bliss unexpectedly gave way to soul-chilling dread.
Rounding a corner (the number of doors between corners varied in a random fashion. There were no numbers on the doors or in the corridors), I was suddenly met by a cold rush of wind. It whistled and hissed through an abysmal landscape of rusty, dilapidated buildings lit by a reddish-purple sky. Cold phosphorescence gleamed from the deep snow drifts.
I gazed at the bleak scene in utter bewilderment. The air was now thick and choking with the smell of petrol fumes and burning ozone.
Movement flicked in my peripheral vision followed shortly by the crunch of snow underfoot. Then my skin began to crawl when They finally emerged from the shadows.
I looked at Them. I pondered Them. I wondered why They keep showing up even after I left that house. Were They still wanting to be my protectors or was there a much sinister reason?
“What do you...?” was as far as I got before the whole scene faded and I was back in my room at the boardinghouse.
To be continued in The Basement of Doom--Ch. 2--An Explanation
|I'm doing this donation thing partially as an experiment and partially because I want to keep my premium membership and not have to rely on my dad's paypal in order to pay the dA bill.|
I'm not really sure how the whole points thing actually works.
Current Residence: The Northern Coast of California where all the hippies and tree-sitters are.|
Favourite genre of music: Classical music, Jazz, the Blues, Heavy Metal, Celtic.
Favourite photographer: Tsuya Pratt, my mom. She had displayed her work at galleries and had sold some artwork.
Favourite style of art: Pencil and ink drawing.
Operating System: Switched to X/p, but now all I need is a good color printer
MP3 player of choice: I haven't got one!
Shell of choice: Conch
Wallpaper of choice: All natural wood, I hate wallpaper!
Skin of choice: My own.
Favourite cartoon character: Hawk Woman, cause she can fly and kick ass!
Personal Quote: "All the good ones were taken already!"