Creepypasta Compilation

Game Board

(Rated 7.2/10)

Ever since the incident I’ve been so paranoid. No one would even really explain what exactly happened that night. I couldn’t make any sense of it, even though I was there. Every single detail is still etched into my brain, but I still can’t tell anyone what happened really.

The car pulled up to the big Arizona house, in the middle of nowhere. I mean, seriously? How do people live like this? Hawaii was a good call, mom. This is depressing. I glanced between my parents as they discussed whatever about who-cares. I can’t believe they were going to leave me here like this while they took a trip to the Bahamas! Did it ever occur to them that I’d like to go with them? But no, they’d rather ship me to another state to live with my crazy cousins for a whole week. Why couldn’t I have stayed with Aunt Kayla or any of my friends back in Hawaii? You’d think that they would want that, considering the whole family-fall-out thing that happened twelve years ago. But apparently that’s not what they wanted. Here I am, in ninety-degrees-in-October Arizona. I swear, when I’m president, I’m deeming Arizona as too boring and will gladly donate it to all the illegal immigrants so they will no longer be illegal. See, I’m very generous like that. I just solved two of the world’s problems, and amazed you with the thought.

My oldest cousin, Cassadee, came out to help bring my bags into the house and I finally stepped out of the car. I headed to the back of the car, to see that everyone had already gotten all of my things. I huffed. Oh, well. I didn’t want to carry them in anyway. I took in the sight of the humongous house in front of me, my house for the next week. This is just great. I really do hope you noted the sarcasm. I ran my hands through my long brown hair and sighed. It looked like it was either three-story, or two-story with a huge attic. The front door was swung open, letting me feel a small breeze from inside the house, but as tempting as it was to just run straight into the cool simulated wind, I stayed outside until my parents came back out.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine here?” My dad asked again, and even though I wanted to scream at them to take me home, I slapped on the best fake smile I had in me and nodded with creaky motions. He smiled wearily and rolled up the window to our ’09 Chevy Silverado. Only a few seconds later, I was left to stare at the dust they trailed behind them. I turned back to the house and nearly jumped at the sight of my little cousin, Clementine, standing in her window, just staring at me. Clementine is eight years old, and creepy-looking. She had black hair in a pixie cut matched with dark eyes, and a seriously pale complexion. She was very thin and short, also. She looked like she was tapping on the window as she looked out at me, but Cassadee came back outside, so I didn’t get to react more than with a simple wave.

“Bailey’s having a couple friends over later, so I think you might just want to stay in your room tonight. Dinner is later, I hope you like chicken…” Cassadee was saying, but I let my mind wander to other things as she led me up the narrow steps to the massive front door. A pattern was inscribed into the wood on the door: a bunch of swirls, leaves, and what looked like fairies decorated it giving out the theme of a horror movie. The terrified and mutated faces of the little people carved into it didn’t help. She led me through it, with great effort on her part in opening the heavy door. It swung open to reveal a Victorian-era-styled living room.

There was nothing hanging on the pale yellowish walls, and the floor was hardwood. There was a door across from the front one that was about as big, only it didn’t have the carvings in it. It also looked easier to open, and you could tell that the room beyond that had a tiled floor. There was a staircase to the left, and it looked like it was the oldest thing in this house. It was made of wood that looked like it had been through more walking than a single family of five could do. It seemed as if anyone were to take one single step on the worn wood, it would split in two to let you fall into the deepest layer of hell. There was an old red rug on the floor, and it shared the same type of designs on it as the door had. A large love seat sat in the middle of the floor, and then there was a small couch sitting across from it, the only furniture in the room. The high ceiling and lit up chandelier led me on to believe that there was no upstairs after all, but of course there just had to be, because Cassadee grabbed onto one of my bags and started up the wooden death-trap with it, not bothering to check if I was following her. I quickly grabbed my other bag and scrambled up after her, trying to forget my fear of dying on the steps.