Creepypasta Bread

Rolling for 52

>>18204289
roll

>>18204289
Roll

>>18204289
roll. This better not be a shit creepypasta.

>>18204289
I'll throw in a roll.

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>>18204289
roll

>>18204289
Yahtzee!!

Roll me over and let me go down to that creepypasta rodeo

>>18204289
rol

>>18204697
so lliek there was this relly sp00py undiscivrd city and ain't nobody liv there kek
and there was a sp00py skellingtone an he be hating errybody idk why lol
so then he kill sum ppl an we be runnun
it have HYPERREALISTIC BL00D and there was an ironee smell an it smlle like rust
then a skeltone cum out an he a cute
tha end
>It didn't say the story had to be good, and the roll for the trollpasta doesn't mean that that is the only case in which you can get a trollpasta
Checkmate, atheists

>>18204502

Did anyone ever play UMK3? I grew up playing Mortal Kombat, and UMK3 was the best one, (3d was a mistake) up until they rebooted the series in 2011.

I was browsing a thread on /v/ about obscure games you remember from your childhood. It made me remember a weird bootleg of UMK3 I found. I had just gotten a new laptop for christmas, and the first thing I did was install ZSNES on it. Of course, I had to download my favorite fighting game.

In the early days of the internet, there was limewire. It was a p2p service, like bittorent, or napster. I thought you could get anything on it. So that's where I looked. I tried everything you could think of, and the only file I found was called UMC. I downloaded it out of spite, and then spent the rest of the evening playing megaman.

The next day, I resumed my search. Hours went by, the only thing I could find was UMC. I was getting annoyed, and I figured I kept finding it, I could try it. ZSNES liked the game, and it booted to a static menu screen. It had a powerpoint background and a clip-art skull with “ULTIMATE MORTAL COMBAT” written on it. My options were 1 player, 2 player, and options. 1 player was an arcade mode, 2 player was local play, and options let me fuss with the volume.

I thought it might have been a pirated bootleg, so I forgave the title screen and went into 1 player. The game had 10 characters (UMK3 had 15) and they all had regular names. Instead of Sub-Zero, or Shao Khan, I could choose between Mike, and Tracy, and Geoff. I don't remember any of the other character's names, and now, that makes me a little sad.

>>18204502
>>18205206

The story of the game was standard fighter fair. A mysterious man had gathered the 10 strongest fighters for a tournament of champions! The game played exactly the way you'd expect a bootleg mk game to play, Rotoscoped animations, special moves, projectiles, even Toasty! There were goofy blood fountains, satisfyingly sickening crunches when you hit the opponent, Geoff even had an Ice blast. It was surprisingly playable. Arcade mode was arcade hard, it only had 10 levels, and you fought each character once. Every character was a button-reading asshole. The music was just straight ripped from the MK games. The backgrounds were a combination of middle-school level art of temples and fantasy castles, and what looked like scanned pictures of actual dingy basements and alleyways.

What does everyone remember about MK? The fatalities! Well, UMC had them too. In fact, every time you lost in arcade mode you got to view your character's fatality. Every fatality in the game was the same, something like down down left right block+punch. Every character had one fatality that was always done to them. Mike, who was a big, boxer type character, got stabbed in the stomach until he lay quivering on the ground, bleeding out. No matter who beat Mike, they produced the same kitchen knife from nowhere, and stabbed Mike to death. Same Animation, every time. The “XXX WINS” screen looked like a badly compressed .jpg of the actor lying on the ground, holding his stomach.

Whoever made the game, had obviously just used some friends. Few of the actors looked like they knew how to throw a punch. A couple of them were fat, and half of 'em didn't wear shoes. I remember Geoff, because other than being sub-zero, he looked like one of the few who could actually fight. His punches landed nicely, and he even had a cool throw! Geoff gets his neck snapped when he loses, and the winscreen is just his head and his twisted neck.

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>>18204502
>>18205208

The reason I'm writing this /x/, concerns Tracy. Tracy was my favorite character. She had a bat, and most of her punches it looked like the damn thing was going to fly out of her hands. However, being the only character with a weapon, not counting fatalities, she had huge reach. Her projectile was throwing the bat at her opponent, and whoever made the game didn't bother animating it coming back. Just reappeared in her hands whenever the special was still on screen. Tracy was the one I ended up beating arcade mode with. So I got to see her fatality, many, many times. When you lose, the “Finish Her” screen comes on, and Tracy collapses to her knees. She looks at the ground and you can see her shoulders slump. Then, the computer takes out a crowbar and hits her. It hits her a lot. It hits her till her head starts to look a little like mush. Then you see “XXX Wins”, and have 10 seconds to press start or have to do the whole damn mode over again.

There's no final boss fight at the end of arcade mode. You beat 10 opponents in a random order then it shows you a clipart birthday cake with “YOU WIN” written on it while a MIDI song plays. It took me hours. I grew up watching horror movies with my mom, and reading scary stories, so at first the jokey gore didn't bother me. I saw Tracy die hundreds of times. I'm stubborn, so even after it started to get to me I kept playing. At least I got a little jingle for it, I guess. The only original piece of music I found.

I deleted the game after beating it, and haven't thought about it for over a decade. Until for work, I found myself looking through a missing person's file from 20 years ago. The pic at the top of the post? Say hello to Tracy.

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>>18204289

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>>18205229

Den some nigga shot me.

>>18204289
Man my ass is swollen...

Dice

We'll see...

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The Ten Best Pasta Shops in Orange County

>>18205237
It's the Virus.

>>18205509

I don't think of myself as paranoid, just wary. Can you blame me? America, the land of the free, is a dangerous place. You could get mugged, raped, or killed anywhere.

So yeah, I've got a gun. Got a few, in fact. I prefer knives, though, and I have dozens of those. It's not paranoia. It's just practical. You have to be ready to defend yourself. Ready to kill, even.

You think you're ready? Wrong, you only think you do. I know I can kill. My sister learned I could kill. She found the cats. But she wanted to tell people.

I don't take chances. I pay attention to my surroundings and take my lessons to heart. My sister taught me a lot.

She taught me I could kill another human being.

I have to be ready. I have to be better. Because I will not be unprepared. I will not be a victim.

I won't go to dangerous places. Like dark alleys. Or prison. Prison is far too risky. My parents would have wanted me to go there. I couldn't take the chance of them finding my sister, calling the police, sending me to prison with those dangerous men.

But did they know already? Who might they have told? It's been a few days now, and they don't talk to anyone anymore. But I don't stay alive by leaving things to chance.

So tonight I'm going to start visiting the neighbors, going house to house. And I'll find out what they know. Then I'll make sure they can never say anything to hurt me.

It's not paranoia. It's just common sense.

>>18205578

I was thrilled to get a date with James Gerhardt. Handsome, witty, and supposedly the best surgeon in the city, if not the damn world. An absolute wizard with a scalpel, he was the first number of many kings and moguls needing to go under the knife. Out of my league, but then, who would be in his league?

But when I met him at the charity luncheon, he couldn't take his eyes off me. He spent the entire time chatting me up and just taking me in with his eyes, but not in any lecherous way. Just... appraising.

And liking what he saw. Especially my hair, which he complimented me on. "Like an angel's," he said.

When he invited me to dinner that same night, I agreed without hesitation. Just as I agreed to go home with him that night.

"So, how did you get so good?" I asked as we got out of the cab. "Everyone talks about you like you're a living legend."

"I'd say it was my sister's dolls," he said. Seeing my confusion, he chuckled. "I found them so fascinating. It sparked my interest in anatomy, which led to surgery, and here I am."

"Dolls," I said, shaking my head.

"It's true," he said, opening his front door and ushering me inside.

And it was true, I saw, just before the chloroform rag was placed over my nose and mouth. He never lost his interest in dolls.


James really is incredible with a scalpel. A snip here, a cut there, and you'd hardly notice I was barely what you could call alive.

James severed my muscles and tendons expertly. Even my vocal cords. It doesn't hurt. I can't eat or drink. But James gives me fluids. I can't move at all. But James can move me. I'm fully poseable. He seats me at his table, just like a gentlemen. He brushes my hair and talks to me about his day. There are others, but he says I'm his favorite.

"My angel," he says, stroking my hair.

>>18204289
Ah yes hello there

>>18205695

I raced out of the house. Too late, I thought. Far too late. But I was determined to try.

If I could make it to the corner store, I could salvage this. They're open until 10, I thought. I've got eight minutes. I can do this.

I ran, headlong, down the road, heedless of my surroundings. I kept checking my watch. 9:54. 9:56. 9:57.

I reached the store just as my watch switched to 9:58. I breathed a sigh of relief as I grabbed the door handle and pulled.

It didn't budge.

"What?" I cried, yanking on the door in abject futility. Then I saw it.

Sunday hours: 8am-9pm.

"No," I said, slumping to my knees and raising my arms to the uncaring gods. "No, no, no, please, no!"

But there was nothing that could be done. If I wanted to get Doritos now, I would have to borrow the car and go to Wal-mart.

Ooohh, I wanna write something spooky!

>>18205790
erm, will try again. Lame topic, and whatnot.

rololo

>>18204289
sure why not

>>18204289
>Rolling

>>18205911
fuck, I can't get inspired about zombies right now

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Rollan

>>18205782
wrote a shitty poem

The Coleman Family Dinner

Samantha sat at the table
Her hair was long and brown
Her father sat to her left
And her mother sat to her right
The grandma and grandpa sat still
They were on the other side
Let’s eat! Said her dad!
Let’s feast! Said her mom!
Let’s eat ‘em up like
leeches eat up blood from the teet!
Samantha quite liked grandmama
But papa not so much
So her was the first one
Whose flesh was surely touched.

>>18206000
>So her was the first one
his*

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>>18205971
I keep coming back to MK-Ultra and then Eleven from Stranger Things. I need more inspiration.

>>18205786

"...last time?" said Danny.

"What? What last time?" I said, turning and looking at him.

Danny opened his mouth, paused, then closed it. "Lost my train of thought, I guess."

"Right," I said. "So, what did you want to show me?"

Danny grinned. "Check this out."

He opened the door to his bedroom. I followed him in. He gestured to an object sitting on his computer desk.

"What is it," I said, circling it, not touching it.

"No idea," Danny said. "Found it in my granddad's attic. Freaky, right?"

"Looks like some kind of steampunk toaster," I said. It looked like a metallic box, with levers and handles and buttons. And markings, weird symbols. "I bet it was high tech back in the '50s."

"Wanna see if it works?" Danny said.

"Sure, but how? I don't even see any power cable."

"We'll figure it out," Danny said, turning dials and flipping switches. "Maybe it doesn't need to be plugged in, maybe you wind it or so-"

The machine burst into flames.

"Fuck!" yelled Danny, stepping back.

"What'd you do?" I said. "The fuck, man?"

"Fuck you! Shut up and help me put it out!"

But the fire went out. Now the symbols on the side were glowing, pulsating. I could hear an eerie hum coming from inside the device.

"I don't like this," I said, backing towards the door.

"Yeah," said Danny. "Let's... let's get out of here."

We went through the door and closed it behind us.

"We should call the... man, I don't know, the cops?"

"Something's not right," Danny said. We could hear the machine humming, louder and louder.

"No shit!" I said. "But what are we going to do now?"

"The same thing we just did. I remember now." Danny was grim.

"Remember what?"

"You can't see it?" Danny said, just before the machine exploded in the next room. "Isn't this just how it went..."

>>18204289

Ro11ing

>>18206033

Melissa gazed into the bathroom mirror. The blood running from her nose was just a slight trickle, drying into a crust on her upper lip.

I can't face him, she thought, thinking of her husband in the bedroom. Not after tonight. Not after what happened tonight.

It was her own fault. It was always her own fault. Brian had told her so many times.

"You make your own problems, Melissa," he'd say, his eyes darkening with that cold look he always got when she was "bad."

Melissa sniffed. The blood was almost all dry now. And she couldn't stay in the bathroom forever.

"Just one more time," Melissa said to her reflection. "Just one more and then goodbye."

She opened the door.

Brian lay sprawled on his back on their queen size bed. His cold eyes were fixed on ceiling. The hole Melissa had torn in the side of his neck was still oozing blood.

She'd gone too far this time. She'd made herself a really big problem this time.

But Melissa couldn't help herself. Leaning over her dead husband, she pressed her nose deep into the wound and inhaled deeply. She took his blood into her, into her nasal cavity where she could relish it. It wasn't as good as before, when he'd been dying rather than dead. But gods, it was still a thrill she could savor.

>>18206077

Man goes to daughter's room to bid her goodnight.

He walks into her room and spots that she has the covers over her face,

When he calls out to her, there is no response. So he approaches the bed and removes the covers.

The man jumps back as he sees that his daughter's face is gone.

He runs to his wife.

"Whats the matter?" she says.

He exclaims that their daughter is without a face.

"But, husband, we don't have a daughter!" she exclaims.

The End?

Roll roll roll!!

>>18206093

Phil and I were six hours deep into our Destiny session when he looked away from the screen at me.

"Hey. You, uh, ever heard an animal talk before?"

"Um..." I said. "No, can't say I have."

"Ah," he said, pwning some noob with a cross-map sniper headshot. "But, like, would that be scary or something if one did?"

I slide-shotgunned some AFK punk, completing my daily bounty. "Yeah, no. No, that would just be dumb."

"Yeah... yeah, you're right," Phil said. He set down his controller and picking up a crumpled paper bag off the floor.

"What you got in there?" I said.

"Date rape drugs, handcuffs, make-up, and a fuckton of giant sextoys I'm going to cram into every orifice on your sissy bitch body," Phil said.

"Oh," I said. "Oh, shit."

>>18204289
Rollerino

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>>18204289
rolliolin

>>18206154

>Damn it, I just did a mirror story. And fucking talking animals?! You will not break me, creepypasta generator. /x/ will have their spoops.

The first time my wife mentioned her problem was two weeks ago.

"I'm on the wrong side," Donna said, looking in the closet mirror.

"What's that, hon?" I said, fixing my tie.

"Hmm? N-nothing, just thinking something, talking to myself."

I wish I'd asked her about it then and there, but I'd needed to get to work. But when I walked out, I noticed she was staring at the mirror again.


Then and now, I'd notice strange things. One day I came home from work and saw she was unpacking a suitcase.

"Did you go somewhere?" I'd said.

"No," she'd said. "I was going to, but then... well this doesn't make sense for that."

"Are you okay, Donna? What's going on?"

She looked at me with those big blue eyes of hers, and leaned in and kissed me gently. "I'm fine, dear. I just need to reflect."

I wasn't reassured. Her kiss... it felt like she was kissing me goodbye.


Today I came home from work and Donna was standing on a chair. She had a rope around her neck, tied around a rafter. There was a mirror on the floor.

"Donna, what... get down from there."

"I have to go," she said, tears forming in her blue eyes. "I can't stay any longer."

"Donna," I said, choking on sudden tears of my own. I took a couple stumbling steps towards her. "Donna, wait-"

"I love you," she said, and jumped.

I rushed forward, but I was too late. I heard the snap of her neck as the rope went taut.

I held her there as she dangled. There was nothing I could do.

Then I looked down.

Donna's reflection was in the mirror with me. But in the reflection, she was holding me as well. As I gazed at the reflection of my wife, she kissed my own reflection on the neck, and I swore I could feel the soft press of her lips for a moment. Then her reflection let go of her embrace, and with one last look back at me with her sad blue eyes, she walked away.

>>18206242

"There's always a cost," the demon said from within the circle.

William wasn't scared, per se. He'd done everything right, carved the circle in the tree stump with a silver knife and sprinkled it with the blood of a hare. But this part had no protection guarantee.

"What is the cost? I must know."

"Not part of the deal," the demon said, displaying rows of sharp teeth with its wide grin. "You must pay it unknowing."

"How much, for something like this?" William asked.

"Hmm... just this once, perhaps." The demon sat back and considered. "To make your beloved forgive your infidelity, a finger tip. To make her forget it entirely... a finger."

William looked at his hands, then back at the demon. "Make her forget."

The demon smiled. "It is done." And William screamed.


Rosemary was cooking dinner when William returned home.

"William," she cried. "Your hand!"

"It's not as bad as it looks," William said, the pain in his eyes betraying him.

"But your finger's gone! At least let me bandage you."

William looked at her. "You... aren't mad at me?"

"Mad? What for? Come, let me wash it."

William was relieved. He loved Rosemary, he did. But deep down, he knew his urges would get him in trouble again.

Cont.

>>18206380

>Cont. Not a reroll.


A year later, William had carved another circle into a tree stump and bled a hare upon it. The demon came and tested the circle as was its wont, then addressed William.

"What now?" the demon growled.

"I've... I've done a bad thing. Very bad. I have to take it back."

"How young was she this time?" The demon leered at William.

"It's worse," he said, shaking. "So much worse."

The demon searched William's thoughts. And began to laugh.

"Please," William said. "Please."

The demon stopped laughing. "There will be a cost. And this time you will not know it first."

"I'll pay it," William said. "Just take it back."

The demon said, "It is done."

William closed his eyes and waited for the pain. But there was none.

He opened his eyes. William stood there outside the circle, looking back at him.

"What?" the demon cried. "What have you done?"

"I have waited to walk the mortal realm again for so long," said William. "I must thank you."

"You... liar!" the demon howled.

"Oh no," said William. "I held up my end of the bargain. What you did with those children had been forgotten by all, including Rosemary." William leaned close and sneered. "There's always a cost. You will pay this one for a long time."

The demon pounded at the circle. But it was well-carved and unbreakable.

"Now," said William, leaning back from the panicked demon, scrabbling like a spider trapped in a jar. "I believe it's time for me to return home to Rosemary."

>That's it for me tonight. Hope someone actually read any of these. Pleasant dreams, /x/.

>>18204289
fug it

>>18206457

I sat there, staring into the darkness of the corner of the room. It had been ten full months. Ten long, arduous months of living in this small, ramshackle place. We moved here because I thought I would be able to save some money -- helping a friend.

It was a quid pro quo; beneficial and pleasant in its nature unlike most arrangements. I thought it would be helpful. I envisioned fun times with a friend. Us joking, laughing, enjoying each other's company while we lived out our lives. Both eking out a modest living from the doldrums of a capitalist society mired in repetitive monotony. At least we'd have each other. A companion in which to share each other's affliction of being born and left to vie in a heartless middle class world. Yet all would not be well in time.

As the days wore on and gave way to weeks, I sensed our amicable nature had changed. My friend no longer met me at the door with the smile they once carried before. Was it something that was said? Some small insignificance that was misconstrued as spite? Perhaps I should say something?

"Hey," I started. "Noticed you've been a little off lately. Is anything wrong?" I asked innocently.

"Nah," they replied and brushed me aside. Something was certainly wrong I thought. Scuttling past me to disappear into their room, only to appear in the common areas of the home for an instance or so.

When it first started, I thought nothing of it. Then I began to notice the malice -- the small slights and errant, smug glances pointed in my direction. They were the weapon by which they chose to bore into my skin.

(Cont.)

>>18206608

I can ignore this. It will go away in time. Oh, dear reader, how I was wrong...

The slights continued on for a time until they amassed into an endless litany of unforgivable transgressions. Was I not kind? Was I not generous and understanding? Still, they pressed on despite my understanding. So I began to stare. Eyes fixated on nothing in particular at the corner of the room, mind searching for justification, I stared.

They beckoned to me from their room, so I answered the call in turn. Approaching slowly, I began to search deep within my soul for the words that would convey my frustration -- my total loss for a kindness that was somehow unseen despite my good natured intentions. But they sat there, content to be mired in their own air of smug superiority for winning unspoken slights. "Am I not a good person? Was I not kind?" I uttered through gritted teeth. In an instance, I watched the arrogant nature fade from their visage as the blood sprang forth from glinting steel. All was right now. All was forgiven. So I stared.

>>18204289

I-I guess I can try my b-best.

rawl

>>18204289
Rollan'

>>18206638

I've always hated my basement. It's cold, dirty, and damp. My family has always just kind of chucked shit down there with the idea that we'd just clean it up later. Sometimes, we'd try to clean it up only to realize it would be too much of a task. We'd put it off for a few years, try it again, only to put it off for a few years.

A lot of things ended up getting thrown down there, and during the last few years with my parents, it became rare that you'd actually find something. You'd think you put something there only to find something completely different, or nothing at all.

Interestingly enough, I also started to lose things of my own. They'd just kind of vanish. Sometimes they'd pop up in the basement though, in weirder locations. Sometimes in the corner or by the window. It's almost like the basement is our very own lost-and-found.

Anyhow, I'd keep writing more of this but my mother was supposed to be home any minute now with food. She's a few minutes late so I need to give her a call.

>>18206655
>freestyle
sheeit...

quickly, try to keep up! I can't stop to catch you if you fall to the ground, Jasper. I can't help you! I can't stop the crying! please don't cry!

I keep running, running. The trampling of footsteps behind me, I hope they are Jasper, oh god I hope they are, but my hope slips away. Darkness keeps following me, please try to hurry! I can't lose you now!

I... I am alone. Alone! How could this happen? We were just at the pub, enjoying a drink, I hadn't seen my best friend in years. After a few pints we settled for a walk to visit all the old stomping grounds... what a mistake! How did we know that old man abernathy would be awake at this hour?

Finally, I made it back in town.. there was this place that I always knew to rendevous with Jacob, we always came here after a good romping through Alejandro's pig farm when we were nothing but teenagers.

Panting, wheezing, my lungs were tight. I was no youth anymore. I kept looking at the dirt road from the crossing, hoping to see Jacob running from behind. It seemed like an hour had past, where could he be?

I could only do the one thing I thought of. I picked up a rather hefty rock and went back into the woods after John. I knew old man Alexander always threatened to shoot on sight, and that was the worst of my fears. John was only seconds behind me, he wouldn't be too far in the property.

With my phone flash light, I saw something that made me repulse at first glance. a puddle of crimson ichor in the dirt... could it be...?

ITT:

>Roll
>Post own crap
>Read nothing

My work here is done.

>>18206703

Well then give some (you)'s to the people writing if you think it's such a problem, you nigger.

>>18206707

(You)

Rolls proly trolly

>>18206691
slowly I keep pushing on toward Abernathy farm, quietly following the trace of inconsistent sized droplets of blood and footprints. the stone in my hand was cold, turning hot from my paranoia. I felt like my hands were burning up.

Nowhere to be found, of my best friend, or the old fart. Don't be hurt, jacob, don't you fucking be hurt I cried.

There to the other side of the cattle grazing field was the old tool shed, with a light on inside. I crept up to it very slowly, quietly, using my phone light to see and avoid any twigs or piles of dung... I hate cow shit.

I can hear the sound now, it makes me cringe. the same old sound we heard when Alejandro carved up the cattle meat with his hacksaw, I practically threw up in my mouth. I didn't want to look through the small dusty window, I didn't want to! I knew I had to, for John, my best friend.

I looked into the shed and could not believe my own eyes... on the table being hacked away was a young man, it was john! I knew it! What do I do? Call the police? No, they'll be too late... I had to gum up all my courage for this...

I kicked in the door and threw my rock directly at Alexander's nose when he turned to look. He let out a grunt and breath, and fell to the floor. His head hit the carving table, I heard a pop. then on the ground he laid there with blood quickly pooling around him.

I couldn't breath, I couldn't bear to see if John was alive. He was my best friend, how could I explain this to his wife? What was going to happen to me for murdering Abernathy?

After several deep breaths I realized the man on the table who was being carved was indeed dead, I approached with heavy grief and sadness, anger and nausea.

What I behold was something very alarming, it was not Jacob at all.. the body was mine, the eyes, the nose, the body was mine. I looked at the glistening and reflectrive pool of blood, to see that I was jacob,

and then I was a zombie

rollandz

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>>18206707

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>>18206707

(U)

Rolling Thunder

>>18204289
roll

>>18206608
>>18206632

Interesting, but the lack of concrete detail leaves me a little lost.

>>18206676

Maybe I'm being a little dense, but I'm not seeing the angle. Or what this has to do with a hospital.

>>18206691
>>18206735

Alas, John Jacob Jasper Heimerschmidt. His was my name, too.

I liked it, though.

rrrollll

>>18207784

>This was supposed to be hospital
>I misread it as basement

Time to kill myself

>>18204289
Roll

>>18204289
Riling for tulpas

>>18207784

It was intentionally vague.

>>18204289
Rolling

>>18204289
rolando

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>>18204289
rolling

>>18204289
Rorr

>>18204289
OK I'll give it a go

they see me rolling xD

>>18204289
rollllll8r

>>18204289
Rolling for quads

>>18204289
ill try

>>18209168
ehh. rerolling

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>>18204289
Rolling

>>18209174
not doing succybusses either. reroll

meh, rolling ...

>>18204289
Roll

>>18207982
roll v2

roll my boy ay lmao

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>>18204289
roll

rollio

>>18204289
roll

>>18204289
Roll

>>18212313
Why does this shit always happen to me, guys?
Every fucking time. It's like they just want, no, need to crawl out of the woodwork and mess with my day.
Fuck, lemme start at the top. I was walking with my mother about fifteen years ago. Wait, what's the date today? Shit, that's exactly fifteen years!
Well, anyway. My old lady and I were walking along and ran into a bit of a crowd at an intersection. The stream of people was relatively steady; we lived in one of those cities. I couldn't help but drop her hand in the mix, and just took a turn to get a better view of her before crossing. Boy, that went well. Ran into some guy and I fell over, then before I could steady myself, I was being kicked about like vermin into the street. Well, I bolted. Hurt like hell to walk after being stepped on by thirty or more angry pedestrians, but I managed to cross and fall into the space between a pair of high-rises. If memory serves, I turned around and saw a tiny being standing there, holding a fishing line. Looked like a stuffed animal to me, a little grey Link toy or something.
Then it moved into this hole in the concrete. It looked like a burrowing spider's nest, but a hundred times larger. As this sucker moved around, it made an extremely high-pitched clicking noise that gave me what felt like a migraine.
The line didn't move with it. It was shimmying along this shiny little line that I could just barely see. I stuck my head in, and it turned around. It was at about this point that I realized the sounds of the city had stopped in entirety, and I couldn't recall hearing them at any point after being kicked into the street.
Its black camera eyes stared into mine with what I could imagine signified horror, to it. It tugged a little on the string, and I looked behind me, where the line led.
There was a grown ass man just standing there, frozen. I gave the little mechanical son of a bitch a look of confusion, then grabbed at the line myself.
Character limit.

>>18212374
In a moment, there appeared another man, that seemed to be a thug, standing equally stopped in motion. He held up a gun, and I followed the path of his heavily tattooed arms to see, where the first man had been standing, a woman with a bullet coming out the back of her skull, laid onto the pavement with cum dripping down her naked leg.
I tugged again, and before I managed to get a glimpse of the next scene, I felt an impact on the back of my head. Subsequently, I was walking hand-in-hand with my mother down the street with a pounding ache in my neck. Fun huh?
As it would turn out, no. Especially since this has happened more under similar circumstances every day up till today.
I'm unpacking a brand new .44 Mag today to see if someone gives my line a tug.

Have a nice day, /x/.

>>18204289
Rolling

>>18204289
rawhide

>>18204289
rolling

Roland

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Rollin,

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>>18212657
reroll

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Rollman!

>>18204289
broll

>>18212374
>>18212396

What did I just read?

Ah well. At least you actually wrote something, unlike the rest of these "rollers."

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>>18204289
Roll

>>18204289
hh

>>18212789
bitch cheated on me and i stabbed her tits

done

Eh, why not. Rolling.

>Now, where did we leave off?

>>18206387

>Very well.

Three months ago my sister Frannie went missing. The last person to see her was Mrs. McHallan, her eight-grade science teacher.

"After last period, Frannie had some questions about homework," Mrs. McHallan had told the police. "She stayed about ten minutes. When we heard the buses pulling away, I offered to give her a ride home. Frannie said it wasn't a problem, she could just walk home. I guess I didn't think it was a big deal at the time."

Not a big deal. Even with today's media panics about child abductors, lots of kids walk home after school.

Most of these kids don't live twelve miles from school, though.

In a statement to the press, the chief of police said they hadn't drawn any conclusions yet and were working all leads. Anonymous sources, however, attested that he already assumed that Frannie had just run away from home.

But Frannie didn't run away. And she wasn't abducted either. I know.

Because sometimes at night I can see her outside my window.

She's always standing out in the yard. Her back is always to me. I never see her face. But it's her. I know it. Every time I try to go outside to find her, though, she's gone again.

My parents don't believe me. My mom just cries, and my dad tells me not to make up lies about Frannie.

I just want my sister back.

Frannie won't meet me in the yard. That's okay. I think I know how to find her.

Tomorrow I'm going to stay late at school and miss the bus. Then I'm going to walk home from school. All twelve miles, if I have to. Even if it means I never get to go home again, either.

>>18213311

I've never been particularly sentimental, but I've got a few things I hold dear. One's a compass my grandfather gave me. He left most of his arm below the elbow in Korea, but he brought the compass back, and he passed it on to me before cancer carried him off. One is a photo album my wife gave me when we were still dating, but that's personal. And then there's the recording.

I have it burned onto a DVD. I have a portable player, so I can watch it whenever I want so long as I've got batteries.

It shows the president (a man I voted for, no less), standing at a podium for a press conference. He's smiling, confident.

"The people of this great nation have nothing to worry about," he says. "We've faced greater challenges than this, and we will face greater challenges still. I have full confidence in our military and law enforcement to protect us all, and in the bright minds looking for a cure."

"In dark times, our country has persevered. And we will persevere today, and tomorrow, and every day we draw breath. And one day, they'll speak of our generations like we speak of the men and women of the 1940s, and say, 'We are safe and strong, because they were brave and resolute.' Have faith, and by the grace of God we will find that day."

I find comfort in this recording. I can close my eyes and imagine it's all true.

But the recording is seven years old now. I can close my eyes, but in the streets outside the building in which I hide, I can still hear the people. They persevere, but it's been a long time since most of them drew breath.

I hit the replay button.

"The people of this great nation have nothing to worry about..."

>>18204289
rollllllollll

>>18204289
I truly hate him. He's done nothing but ruin my life and now, I finally have the chance to make him pay.

His skin separates, and crimson blood slips over pale flesh, pooling over the floor in a rapidly expanding puddle that instantly stains the wooden floor, and I can see the pain blossom on that stupid face. Eyes wide open, his mouth opens in a silent scream.

I relish in his pain, a sick grin coming across my face as I make a second cut. More blood, more pain, and my grin gets wider.

"You deserve this." I tell him, and his lips repeat to me that simple truth, as I bring the blade across my throat.

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>>18204289

>>18204289
Rolling

why are you faggots rolling if you re not writing anything.

>>18214663
I rolled, have a couple ideas, haven't had time to put them down yet. Plus endings that don't suck are hard.

>>18204289
roll

>>18204289
Roll

Little Timmy had no idea what he had gotten himself into, what was this evil board game he had found in his parent's room?
The wooden nacho moved on its own as Timmy held it..
"S... P... O... O... K... T... I... M... E..." it spelled out.
Timmy had summoned the ghosts of skeletons long gone!
They were covered in blood and all had bloody rusty knives and hyper realistic bones!!
"Fuck off you calcium wankers!" Timmy said, and the skeletons all exploded into blood and darkness all over the room!!
Timmy never touched the evil board game ever again because also he died

Rolling. I'm taking 666 as well.

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>>18216061

>>18204289
roll

>>18213568

It's taken me five years, but I finally found the man who stole my identity. No, he didn't steal my social security number or credit card. He stole my family, my life. My face.

For five years, I pursued lead after lead. Nothing. Days turned to weeks, to months, to years, and nothing. Until one day he appeared on the local news. Giving an interview about the new playground equipment at the park. Hand on my son's shoulder, arm around my wife's waist. Smiling with my lips.

It took me thirty minutes to find out where he lives my life. God bless the internet.

I don't know with what cunning he stole my everyness with, but he'd lost it. It was child's play to sneak inside. The house was empty, and I waited until he came home.

And he did, with my wife and son, with a take-out pizza and half a decade of stolen joy. I didn't hesitate. I sprang from the closet and buried an axe in his chest before the Domino's box in his hands even hit the floor.

"I'm taking it back, you son of a bitch. Won't steal from me ever again."

The imposter's lips parted, mouthing unspoken syllables. What. Why. Who. The blood trickled on of his mouth, but he didn't make a sound. My voice didn't belong to him anymore.

I looked up at my wife. She trembled, holding my son behind her. "Darling. Don't be afraid. He wasn't real. I'm back."

"Keep away!" she screamed, backing towards the stairs. She was obviously in shock. I had to comfort her.

"It's okay now," I said, walking towards her with open arms. That's when I noticed I was still holding the axe, soaked in blood. Stupid of me.

As I knelt to set the axe on the floor, I looked at the imposter's face on last time. Strange, I thought. Come to think of it, he doesn't really look all that much like me at all.

>>18204289
Roll

>>18218095
>▶
fuck that

>>18204289
Rollaids

>>18218097

It had been nearly twenty years since I had found it originally but the snow made me turn back. I told them about it, but they said I was mad. Mad as a fox I thought to myself before taking a long pull from my flask. My extremities were beginning to lose feeling, I'm not sure if it's the whiskey or the cold. But I do know I need to get out of the cold.

Antarctica, I scanned the frozen tundra before returning to my work. They didn't approve my request for an industrial auger so I've been using the hand held. I've been at it for two hours already. I know this is the spot. I made sure to mark the co-ordinates.

Today wasn't like that day though, it was clear and sunny. The ice was practically transparent that day and I could clearly see the ruins. Suddenly the ice opened up beneath me.
BREAKING NEWS
Local homeless man found dead passed out in make shift snow fort

watch this.
R O L L

>>18204289
rawlin

>>18218534 "basement"

Bad things come to those who wait.

It was time to check the laundry. He already waited 15 minutes for A to return. The clothes sat, wet, waiting to go into the dryer. After A left to go pick up drinks, the lights went out towards the back of the house. It does this during winter, and it means the basement lights are out, too.

He stood in the hallway looking towards the basement. As long as his feet still stayed within the lit part of the hallway, he felt safe. He knew he had to go down.

Shitty phones don't come with back flashlights, and his was the shittiest. The light from his phone screen only stayed on in increments of ten seconds before dimming. When he lit his way down the steps, his heart pounded as he had to precisely time when to re-click the power on button. When it failed, when he hit it off accidentally and the path went pitch black, he was hesitant to turn it back on. Something might be there.

It was hard for him to switch the damp clothes into the dryer one-handed. It was harder to hear every scratch and bang and stay convinced it was just the noise of metallic clasps hitting the inside of the dryer. When he was ready to close the lid, the light of his screen dimmed.

Before it went black, a hand reached towards him.

>>18204289
Roll

>>18218133

Heh.

>>18218574

I liked it. But using a single letter for someone's name was unnecessarily distracting.

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>>18204289
Aye aye, sir, rolling.

ok I'll roll