Creepypasta Stories

Smile

I hate my life. I just made some new friends at this stupid school, and now I have to move again because of my father's stupid new job. We're moving to the other side of the country. I just wish we could stay in a town for more than a few months, but no. Every job just gets better and better, so we have to move. I'd been doing some research on the new town we were moving into. I'll just say that there are some pretty messed up headlines for this place. Most of them about kids going insane, some murders here and there. Nothing shocks me anymore considering some of the places that I've been.

When we arrived, I got out of the U-Haul truck, and looked up at the huge mansion-looking house.

"Really? Is a house this big necessary for your 'needed office space'?" I say in sarcastic tone, looking at the dead grass surrounding this house.

"Jordan, watch your tone!" My mother hisses at me.

"He's just going through his puberty years." My dad says, chuckling under his breath.

"Doesn't matter. He shouldn't be disrespectful." My mom says, and I walk into the house carrying my things. I I look around the dark house, and at the peeling wallpaper on the walls. There are still several pictures of the old family that lived here before they left. My parents walk into the house behind me holding some of their stuff, and I look at them questioningly.

"Do you know what happened to the family that was here? Back in 1950-something?" I ask.

"We do, but can we discuss it at dinner? We should get most of our stuff away first." My father says, and I agree. I walk upstairs, pick a smallish square room, and set my boxes down. I look around the empty room, and put my hands in my hoodie pockets. Along one wall, there are three windows. Two are square, and one is an oval. On the opposite wall, there are two wooden closet doors that look like they could turn to ash at the touch. There is a small bed along the wall next to the closet doors, and a huge wall space. I open the box with my posters of bands, and look up. A boy, who looks to be about 17 or 18, was standing in front of me. He had dark hair, blue eyes, and an ugly stained blue shirt with a black jacket. He wore ripped jeans, and brown muddy boots.

"O-Oh. I didn't know someone was in here.." I said cautiously, standing up. The boy just looked at me. He didn't say a word, and he didn't move a muscle. He just stared at me.

"You gonna talk, or..?" I said, inspecting him a bit. He looked like a normal teen. Except for his unnaturally thin body and pale skin, and the bottom half of his face is covered by a mask.

"Okay... Well I think it's time you left," I say as I bend down to pick up another box to set it on the bed. When I stand back up, I'm the only person in the room. Everything is normal, except for muddy boot prints where the boy was standing.

"That's...odd..." I look around the floor to see if he left anything else, but there were no other prints. I look over at the bed, and see a bit of white sticking out from under the sheets. I walk over to the bed, pull out the paper, and turn it over to see a photo. A photo of a family. There was a mother, father,two sons, and a daughter. Almost immediately, I recognize one of the sons. It was the boy who was just in my room. I turn the photo over again, looking for a date.

"July 18th, 1952..." I read aloud to myself, and I look around the room once more. That's... impossible. I know what happened to this family. They were killed. I wanted to tell my parents this, but of course 'it has to wait till dinner'. I know that it was one of the children that murdered the family, but I just... I just can't remember which one it was... Joseph, I think. That's all I can remember from my research about this family. I set the remaining boxes on my bed, and unpack. I open the closet doors carefully, and see that there is still some old clothes from the family. The top half of a mask, some jackets and button down shirts, and some pairs of shoes and boots. I put my clothes on the hangers inside, and put them away. I also put some stuff that has no place in my room on a shelf at the top of the closet.