CreepyPasta - a collection

The Van Ness Asylum

Before my experience two days ago (May 3rd and 4th, 2013) I was a very skeptical person; not just in the paranormal, but in all areas of life. Should something not be able to be factually proven, it was simply not true. While I was always interested in death, the paranormal, and ‘spooking’ myself in general, I had always been a hard-headed person who never believed that there was any truth to it all. I simply wrote things off as, “an interesting story” and never genuinely believed that in anything, “unexplained”. Following my experiences however, I’ve come to terms with the fact that just because things do not follow our illusion of reason, does not mean that those things aren’t actually valid.

As I had stated before, I have a greater goal in mind higher than simply entertaining my fellow Creepypasta members. Contrary to my previous belief, there are things in life that cannot be explained. Like the beginning of the universe, and life itself. We can trace things back in theory, 13.7 billion years ago with the Big Bang; but the further into it you go, the more questions arise. “And what before that, and before that?” Great wars have been fought over the topic ever since the beginning of man itself. We are all fighting and scrambling to answer the unexplainable origin of the beginning of the universe. Why? Simply put, we are very intrigued about a topic that is so complex, and abstract, that it could never be explained.

This is why the Creepypasta stories, true or false, are captivating. We all want to feed our hunger with a glimpse into the irrational world of the paranormal and incomprehensible. My goal above all is to show my peers that you must keep an open mind, and simply give into the inevitable truth that some things in life cannot be explained.

I apologize for the long prefix, but I felt it was an absolutely necessary one. Here are my experiences of May 3rd and 4th.

Seeing as how it was a Friday on May 3rd, I was very glad to be on a small but much appreciated break from work and school. Naturally, I did the old teenager cliché of spending the night at a friend’s house. As usual, I indulged in playing video games, and criticizing old classic movies with my good buddy, Cris. We were a couple of film buffs who loved share impressions of actors, and poke fun at poorly done special effects, etc. The night was honestly going great in true weekend fashion. My friend and I had just come to the realization that he could do a pretty good Nicolas Cage impression, so we spent a large part of that night laughing and talking like him at random points in our hangout.

When I had attempted to follow in and give the impression a try, he shot me down and ridiculed me for doing a bad job. I shrugged, and tried to laugh it off but he continued to pursuit berating me. Eventually, I grew tired of his negative criticism, and we had a small argument. It was no big shouting match or anything, we were used to this sort of thing because we made fun of each other on such a regular basis, it was only natural to have a small little fight now and then. We always got over it within a day or two. I felt the best course was to gather my things and ride my bike home so we could both cool off a little.

I was a little reluctant to bike home because it was really late already. I was no stranger to riding home in the dark, it was actually sort of routine because I got around a lot. It seemed I was always riding home in the late hours from someone’s house. This time was different however because it was now 1:24 AM (May 4th now). I had only ever ride my bike out past midnight only once or twice before for an absolute emergency. I refrained from riding when it was very late because I always had a fear of gangs and other not-so-great characters who tended to be out at that time of night.

Clouded of my better judgment by pride and anger though, I put on my backpack, hopped on my bike, and started off. I recall the cool summer breeze that I had felt as soon as I began to ride home. It was very therapeutic to feel the wind relieving me of my stresses. I was now confident that I had made the right call to leave my friend’s house, rather than stay there and wait in awkward silence until we both went to sleep. I continued to ride home for another ten minutes. At this point I was at a crossroads. Do I ride down Van Ness? Or turn, and head towards the main road, where the prostitutes and gangsters usually hung out?