Scratch

Ok, guys. If you don't like the pasta, I'll gladly delete it.

Just tell me, don't diss me.

I liked the Invadeer Zim pasta.

samid11 wrote:

mythbusteranimator wrote:

I liked the Invadeer Zim pasta.

Someone likes it. I feel loved again ;w;

It gave me the creepy tingle. That I hate. So it was a good pasta. 

CakePopAnimation wrote:

samid11 wrote:

(gory yet epic pasta)

WOW.
That was amazing. XD
I loved it, so don't delete it.

<3 Thank you!~

samid11 wrote:

Garr8 wrote:

samid11 wrote:

No, just commanded by a wish.

How did it decay so quickly?

About that smiling cat pasta. I was watching Disney's Cats and Dogs and one of the dogs grinned and I realized how much like SMILE. jpg he looked.

Well, her nose was already in bad shape, thus the skeletal part showing later.

The only think from Invader Zim that I know of is... TELL ME A STORY ABOUT GIANT PIGS!

777w wrote:

BOBBYBOB3 wrote:

Ever since I read jeff, I don't  like pasta. Don't expect me here anymore.

BOBBYBOB3 wrote:

samid11 wrote:

Well, her nose was already in bad shape, thus the skeletal part showing later.

The only think from Invader Zim that I know of is... TELL ME A STORY ABOUT GIANT PIGS!

so you say you dont like creepypasta then ask for a scary story about pigs? 

I don't really like pasta, but I like to see other's creations. Or how stupid some "good" pasta is, like Candle Cove.
@BOBBYBOB3, I don't really like JTK either.

samid11 wrote:

Ok, guys. If you don't like the pasta, I'll gladly delete it.

Just tell me, don't diss me.

No, I mean.
The prose and everything if fine. You know how to write and it's not a particularly bad story.

But it's not particularly frightening. When you think about it, all the person did in the story was watch TV.

mythbusteranimator wrote:

777w wrote:

mythbusteranimator wrote:

I don't really like pasta, but I like to see other's creations. Or how stupid some "good" pasta is, like Candle Cove.
@BOBBYBOB3, I don't really like JTK either.

candle cove is good, just not as creepy as it is moderately disturbing

Candle Cove was, honestly, disturbing about 3/4 ways through, and for about two paragraphs. Just because something is disturbing doesn't make it a pasta. I mean, is Cupcakes a creepypasta? No. It's disturbing, but not a pasta.

actually creepypasta has to be a copypasta thats creepy, and cupcakes can qualify as creepy depending on who you are so technically its a creepypasta as is candle cove. i guess candle cove is cool because of not just the story itself but how the fandom has managed to develop it so much further

If we are going to talk about disturbing creepypasta, let's move over to the other topic in TIRAP.

samid11 wrote:

I just thought of something.

There needs to be a creepypasta about Teddy Ruxpin.

That thing scared the crud out of me when I was little.

I looked it up O_e


SCARY BEAR

wolvesstar97 wrote:

samid11 wrote:

I just thought of something.

There needs to be a creepypasta about Teddy Ruxpin.

That thing scared the crud out of me when I was little.

I looked it up O_e


SCARY BEAR

Yeah, and I used to OWN ONE.

Yep. I got it from my mom's friend for christmas when I was 3.

That thing still haunts me.

And my mom hid it behind the couch so I wouldn't see it.

That only gave me a temporary couch phobia.

NeilWest wrote:

The Script

My name is Katy Hawk. I live a normal life as a camerawoman (it isn't just men). Besides that, we were filming for a new horror film called, 'Cursed II'. It was on a particularly snowy day when our director vanished. We had searched all over for him. We checked the lounge, the set, the dressing room, but he was nowhere.

Seriously.

He had vanished without a trace.

I had to take some serious action. Despite our strict orders, we knew we'd have to search his own room. We took a deep breath, and stepped inside. It wasn't as we imagined. The mirror was scratched and the chairs were tipped over and some where even broken. And there was blood. Alot of it.

Then I saw a script.

It was marked, 'Cursed II: Unedited'.

I gave it to the police officer who was with us and he said that they would study it for any clues to his disappearance. We thought that we could be one step closer to finding out where the director was so we could finish this movie and get on with our lives in peace and harmony.

We couldn't.

The following day, it became worldwide news.

Every single police officer which was on the case was murdered. But no-one could trace the killer, because they were scared. People suggested they were poisoned, but no negative substances where found in them. Others suggested that they were strangled, but no fingerprints could be found.

They came to a conclusion.

They were all scared to death.

But who had scared them? It was a simple answer which had to be answered. Could it have been the director? Could it have been a completely different person? And how could they have been so horrifying, that they killed a whole squad of police officers? I set out on this fatal investigation, alone.

I shouldn't have.

I should've known.

I began where all investigations start, the scene. In this case, the director's office. I checked every inch of floor, ceiling and the walls. Then every single storage area, hidden compartment (there were none) and mysterious crack (also none). I had no luck, until I found a note which had the message on it:

Booker in doom. LMY

That was wierd.

Or another clue. I knew that the director's full name was Lionel Young (Lionel Michael Young), so at least that was just his initials at the end, not another secret message. Seriously. I had to figure out if a booker really was in doom, or if there was another secret message within it. It was probably an anagram, so I installed a program on my computer to do just that.

It reassembled.

And dessembled.

Before it came up with this mysterious (and probably correct) phrase from the others; Look in my bedroom. I didn't want to do it, but I knew I had to so that we could carry on with our movie, we only had a few months before the deadline. And if the director was still here, he would become a nuclear bomb (metaphorically).

I looked in his bedroom.

I felt like a stalker.

I had checked his wardrobe, but nothing but director-style clothes in there. I even checked his bed, but nothing but mattress and duvet. The last place I checked was his end-table, and that was when things began to get creepier. As if I felt as if I was going to die by being stabbed in the back by a serial killer.

I heard footsteps.

I wasn't armed.

I grabbed a lamp and watched as the shadow of the unidentified person came closer, and closer. The last thing I heard was,
"Miss Hawks, what are you doing with that lamp?" It was Jemima Young, the director's daughter, who knew me well as a friend and someone to discuss their problems.

I explained.

She cried.

I tried to reassure her but I knew that this was a great loss for her, to cheer her up, I said that I was trying to identify what happened to him, and I was always welcome to keep her updated. She sniffled away her sadness, and said her thanks, and left me to carry on studying. So, she walked away to her bedroom.

I heard footsteps again.

Coming up the stairs.

I just ignored it and carried on searching, it might be a police officer or something - probably was. I heard footsteps coming closer, and then heavy breathing. Was this police officer hypo-ventilating or something? I turned around and my eyes met with blank, soul-less ones. A cold sweat ran down my face.

I was scared.

He wasn't.

I didn't know what to do. I could'nt look at his body because I had to keep my eyes fixed on his. His eyes were horrifying to look at close, it was like staring at two white peaches. The fruit. Anyway, I slowly started to back away, shuffling against the carpet, then I slowly got up and backed away more slowly.

Then I ran.

Backwards.

And hit myself on a cupboard. I fell on the floor, my fading eyes staring at the thing. It crawled towards me as I was becoming unconscious. I felt like I was in limbo, just waiting for ages. I'd never been knocked out before, but this blackness wasn't comforting.

I did wake up.

But chained.

I could no longer see the strange human, just a medieval dungeon. Like you'd see in England. Not in California. Maybe this was part of some kind of medieval, if only I could her it move. I did see someone, but they were so far away, I could only guess their shape, which I hoped was fully human.

It walked closer.

With a knife.

And it wasn't the director, or Jemima, or even the strange person. It was a man in a tattered suit with a gristly beard. I'd saw pictures of him before, but I can't really remember where. It was a long time ago when I saw the picture. He chuckled as he introduced myself.

"You know too much", he said.

"I can't let you live."

Another cold sweat came down my face. The man walked closer to me,
"Do you have a problem with sweating?" It was true, I did sweat whenever I was scared,
"Yes, but how do you know?" I silence came between us, then I realised, "are you that strange thing I saw in the director's bedroom?'

He smirked.

"No, what makes you think that?"

His phone rang... I never knew that physcos never turned their phone off whilst killing someone, or it may just have been this person.
"Hello? Jay? I thought you were still in prison? Long time no see! How've you been? Good..." He began, and so I thought of my plan.

His keys were in his pocket.

How stereotypical.

My feet could just about reach them (he was quite close after all) and I snagged them. I managed to get a hold of them, and then unlock myself, and slowly walk away. Still being careful, I walked to the stairs. But then luck came away,
"Goodbye," and then he looked at me.

Mistake.

Big mistake.

He screamed an ear-piercing sound that was unrecognisable and started shooting me. I never noticed the bullet hit my arm. It was an intense pain and made my arm immovable, I had to get to a hospital,
"Next it will be your... BRAINS!"

That was uncalled for.

How did he say 'BRAINS' in a demonic accent.

I started to run up, I was getting even more freaked out by the second. He started to run towards me, closer and closer, he aimed his gun at my face and... he fainted. I didn't understand how, but when I turned around, it was the monster from the bedroom. But I noticed something, he didn't kill me. He was my friend.

Newspaper Article Snippet - 10/12/11 (1 Week Later Kidnapping of Miss Hawks)

After a long search, both Miss Parks and an infamous serial killer have been found dead in the basement of 10 Westwood Drive. The serial killer appeared to have been mangled, while Miss Parks died of a gunshot wound on her right arm. The serial killer's cause of death has yet to have been identified, and his name is Lionel Young.



Tell me what you think!

*cough*