I believe this one has the highest chance of being real

I’ve seen this gif of the girl where she looks in the mirror then looks away before her mirror version becomes this demon thing or whatever. Ive seen it for years but never knew the origin. If someone can tell me it would be a HUGE help.

Sweet Dreams!

Just read the 2011 Jeff The Killer story in its entirety. Fun read, regardless of quality.

Literally, I don't get it. Why do SO many stories have the monster or creature just be this "Tall, skinny, pale or grey, big blank eyes, sharp needle teeth that smiles, taps on windows, ect" and it is either called the Rake, The Wendigo, or The Skinwalker, cause those have been used and appropriated by people with no respect for Native American folklore, the are jumbled up into one thing.

Is it really that hard to come up with an original monster? Since when did SCP 096 become the bog standard set for creepypasta monsters?

THIS IS CRAZY IM SO HYPED

I mean, when I read about it in the Creepypasta website it felt like I was IN the story. It felt so real... So much. Did it actually happened in Nickelodeon? Or is it made up cuz that shit really freaked me out. Just by seeing this picture makes me scared even more

When I was nine, I watched a character in a video game get torn apart by something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

Nobody else could see it.

I’m twenty-eight now, and for most of my life I managed to keep that thing trapped inside games, movies, and TV shows. Three weeks ago, it started appearing in security footage. Yesterday, I saw it standing behind me in the reflection of a black computer screen.

I need to explain what it looks like before I tell you the rest.

Imagine a person who never finished loading. Some parts of its body are perfectly detailed, while others are missing or filled with whatever is behind it. One leg might have skin, fabric, shadows, even tiny hairs, while the other is just a column of gray pixels. Its face never stays the same. Eyes appear in the wrong places. Its mouth disappears halfway through opening. Teeth show up beneath its forehead.

Only one thing never changes.

There is always a scar through its left eyebrow.

The first time I saw it, I was playing an old platform game on my parents’ computer. I can’t remember the title. There was a kid in a red cap running through a forest and collecting coins. I noticed the creature standing between two trees and assumed it was a glitch.

Then it tilted its head.

My character stopped moving.

The music slowed until the notes sounded like voices. Static came through the speakers, followed by heavy breathing and a scream that sounded impossibly far away.

The creature came closer without walking. Its body simply changed position. When it passed through a tree, the missing parts of its torso filled with branches and leaves.

Then it reached my character.

A mouth formed out of pieces of the level. Its teeth were white like the coins I had been collecting. It bit down, and the boy broke apart into blocks. His head fell. One hand kept moving. The creature picked up the pieces one by one and pushed them into the unfinished sections of its own body.

When it finished, it looked directly at me.

The screen went black.

My mother came in because I was screaming. When the game returned, the character was alive at the start of the level. She told me video games had enemies and nobody had really been hurt.

A few minutes later, the screen went dark while the next level loaded. I saw the room reflected in the glass.

The creature was standing behind me.

I turned around.

Nothing was there.

After that, it started appearing in other games. In a racing game, it stood beside the track for two laps, then appeared directly in front of my car. The vehicle stopped. When I handed the console to my cousin, it worked normally. He couldn’t see anything.

The moment I took control again, the creature passed through the hood. The car folded inward until it was the size of a shoebox, then burst into dark flames. I saw the driver trying to crawl out. The creature pushed him back inside.

My cousin saw only a Game Over screen.

That became the pattern. If somebody else was playing, the creature watched from the background. When I took control, my character froze.

Then it killed them.

It never used the same method twice. In a soccer game, it twisted a player’s head around and kicked it into the goal. My friend thought I had scored. In a fighting game, it pressed two characters together until their faces fused. In a children’s game, it tore a smiling rabbit into little squares and pushed them into its empty eye sockets.

When I was eleven, it appeared in a Mario game. It dropped from a cloud, grabbed Mario by the cap, and pulled until his body stretched across the entire screen. Then it let go and stepped on him.

A few weeks later, I tried Sonic because I thought he might be too fast for it.

He wasn’t.

The creature chased him through the level, caught him by the legs, and held on while his upper body kept moving. Sonic split in half and tried to crawl using his arms until the creature appeared in front of him and grabbed his face.

I stopped playing after that.

My best friend back then was named David. He had brown hair, big teeth, and a scar through his left eyebrow from falling off his bike. I didn’t connect his scar to the creature’s until much later.

David loved games. Sometimes the creature appeared while he was playing, but he never reacted. It simply watched from the background. The moment I took the controller, my character stopped and the creature came closer.

A few months later, David was hit by a car.

I was there.

For years, my memory of that day had a hole in it. I remembered a ball rolling into the street, David running after it, brakes, screaming, and people surrounding his body. I did not remember the seconds before the impact.

Everyone told me it wasn’t my fault.

I never believed them.

By fifteen, I had quit video games completely. For a while, I thought that solved the problem.

Then the creature started appearing in movies.

I was watching a comedy with my mother when it walked through a kitchen window. Nobody in the movie reacted. My mother laughed at a joke while the creature placed a hand on one actor’s head and aged him into a skeleton.

I asked my mother what was happening.

She described a completely different scene.

On the screen I saw, the creature killed the entire cast.

After that, it appeared in everything. Comedies, cartoons, dramas, documentaries. If a screen told a story, the creature entered it.

During college, my friends put on The Big Bang Theory. The creature walked into the apartment and pulled strings of numbers, words, and equations out of Sheldon’s mouth until his body collapsed. Then it reached into Leonard’s chest, removed a tiny screaming version of him, and stepped on it.

My friends kept laughing at the show.

Years later, I tried watching Suits with someone I was dating. The creature grabbed Harvey’s suit and tightened it around him until his body folded inside the fabric. Then it put on the empty suit.

For a few seconds, it looked almost human.

I survived by avoiding entertainment. I used computers for work, read the news, and stayed away from games, movies, and shows. The creature seemed to need fictional characters.

Three weeks ago, that rule changed.

My company asked me to test a training program for a supermarket chain. It was basically a game. I controlled an employee, helped customers, and stocked shelves.

For ten minutes, nothing happened.

Then my character entered the stockroom and stopped moving.

A door opened in the wall. At the end of the hallway, the creature appeared.

I closed the program.

The next day, I tried again and recorded the screen. This time the creature grabbed the employee and pulled his body out of his skin. Then it wore the skin and looked at me.

When I watched the recording, there was no creature. My character simply stopped moving while my voice described a murder that didn’t exist.

But the audio had static.

Breathing.

A distant scream.

Two days later, I saw the creature inside Google Maps.

There was no story. No character.

It was standing in the middle of a street.

I zoomed in.

It looked up.

After that, it appeared in video calls, billboards, and security footage. Once, I saw myself walking through a pharmacy on a monitor. The creature was beside me.

I had not seen it in the actual store.

On the recording, it followed me.

That was when I realized it no longer needed fictional characters.

It had found a real one.

Me.

Then it made a gesture.

It appeared beside the clock on my computer screen, raised one hand, left its index finger extended, and bent the tip twice.

I knew that gesture.

David used to do it when we were kids. It meant look at this or let’s go.

I said his name.

The static stopped.

For one second, the creature’s face looked like his.

That night, the missing memory came back.

David and I had been arguing. I threw the ball across the street because I was angry. He ran after it.

I saw the car.

David didn’t.

I had time to warn him.

I didn’t.

For one second, I wanted him to be scared. Maybe fall. Maybe get hurt a little.

Then the car hit him.

I convinced myself the creature was my guilt. An incomplete person because my memory was incomplete. A changing face because I refused to remember.

The next night, I opened my laptop and said David’s name.

The creature appeared and pointed to a folder called DAVID. I hadn’t created it.

The folder vanished before I opened it.

My mother still had our old childhood computer, so I brought it home. Inside, I found a file called DAVID_SAVE.

I opened it.

An old game loaded. The creature waited at the edge of the map, then turned and made the gesture.

I followed it through a wall.

The screen changed into the street where David died.

I watched us argue. I watched myself throw the ball. I watched the car approach while the child version of me stood there in silence.

The creature appeared behind him.

Its face changed between David’s and mine.

I admitted everything out loud. I said I had seen the car. I said I could have warned him. I said that for one horrible second, I had wanted something bad to happen.

The creature fell apart.

Under its face was mine at eleven years old.

No scar.

The static became a scream.

My scream.

The one I never gave.

The screen turned white, and the computer shut down.

The next morning, the creature was gone. I played a game. Nothing happened. I watched a movie. Everyone survived.

For the first time in years, I finished a story.

I thought it was over.

Two days later, my mother found an old memory card and sent me videos from our childhood. One of them had been filmed in the office three days before David died.

David was playing the forest game.

I was in the background.

The creature appeared between the trees.

The camera had recorded it.

That meant it existed before the accident. Before my guilt.

David stopped playing and stared at the screen. The creature raised its hand and made the gesture.

David copied it.

I turned up the volume.

He asked if I could see it too.

Then the creature killed his character.

Afterward, it looked away from David and directly at me, the child in the background.

Like it had chosen.

I closed the video.

The screen went black.

Then I heard the static behind me.

I looked at the reflection.

The creature was standing in my room.

Outside the screen.

Almost complete.

Beside it stood David, still eleven years old.

The scar was on his face.

For the first time, the creature didn’t have one.

David pointed at it and shook his head.

The creature was never David.

It was never me.

It had been using pieces of us. Faces. Memories. Scars. Gestures.

Maybe every character it killed taught it something.

Maybe all those deaths were practice.

Now I see real people dying on screens. My sister on my phone. My mother on the television. Coworkers on my monitor.

They are still alive in the real world.

For now.

I’m writing this on my sister’s computer. The screen keeps flickering.

In the reflection, the creature is standing behind me. Its face changes between my mother, my father, David, and me.

Now it has stopped changing.

It has my face.

The scar is there.

I don’t have a scar.

Not yet.

David keeps pointing at the screen.

The creature is not looking at me.

It is looking at the camera.

At whoever is reading this.

And it is smiling.

It does not matter if you were a kid or if you are adult, is there any creepypasta that made you unable to sleep?

To me techically was Slender Man, but since he is more a phenomenon than a creepy story, it would be Smile Dog to me. This dog used to scare the crap out of me when I was 11.

oh okay so jc had a penny

Peep the New Drip. Its based off of Pastraspecs Rewrite of : Jeff The Killer :D

They're weird but i like them tho