A Collection of Creepypasta, Ghost Tails, and Scary Stories

Cheff the Griller

One month ago, on a rain-slicked street

My mother and I got a bite to eat

But on the way back, I slipped and fell

And I suppose the car coming didn’t see me well

Because the next thing I knew, as I lifted my head

I was staring at the sheets of a hospital bed!

I could not move my legs, nor my right arm

My left was okay (it escaped from harm)

My mother came in, with a frown, and then

Said “honey, I’m afraid you’ll never walk again.”

A feeling came over me, not sadness or hate

But instead overwhelming apathy took place

“Oh well,” I thought, “I guess I’m done.

My life is over before it’s even begun!”

But the next day my mom approached me with a smile

And said that, with luck, I’d only stay here a while

And then, if feeling returned to my legs

I could come back with her and start my life again

Well, that filed me with hope; an optimism quite bright

And perhaps my stay here would even be alright!

The month passed by, rather pleasantly

I’ll save you the details on how I went pee.

Most of my actions needed the assistance of a nurse

But really I was just glad to not be in a hearse

A reporter came to my room to tell my story

I think he was expecting something a little more gory

The triplegia of a fourteen year-old kid

Was something that, sadly, couldn’t be hid.

My nurse was kindly, pretty and gentle

She helped me get through that month without going mental

She even gave me a book to read

About shipwrecked sailors whose captain couldn’t lead

I learned on that day that human tasted like pork

The captain got eaten (but he was kind of a jerk.)

The nurse was very good at helping me cope with my condition

But when she was gone I sometimes felt a suspicion

Something like I was being watched

But I shooed that thought from my mind and instead stared at the clock

One thing that bothered me was the sheet on my legs

They hooked tubes up to me so that I never left the bed

But I could not reach down for the sheet to be pulled

So I could not see my legs, my once-useful tools

At the end of this month, I’m supposed to go home

But more often than not I’m simply left alone

The female nurse does not come any moreInstead, a crueler face comes through the door

His face is all pudgy, he wears an apron