Book Of Creepypastas #2

A Curse is Killing My Friends and I'm Next

The legend goes that if you sit upon the throne of the little people, you will die in seven years. Well almost exactly seven years ago, three friends and I did just that. Two of them died yesterday, in separate incidents, across the country.

Back then, we were college buddies and ghost hunters. Abandoned asylums filled with asbestos, civil war-era graveyards, and haunted railroad tracks: nothing scared us. Only one thing ever did, and that was the Village of the Little People.

It's in Middlebury, Connecticut, not far from a restaurant called Maggie McFly's. The first semester of our senior year was ending, and on the way back from a road trip to New York, we decided to go for a ghost hunt. A website called Damned Connecticut revealed the GPS coordinates of the Little People's Village, just a twenty-minute detour from our route home. It was the last thing the four of us would ever do together.

The village is in the middle of a forest. You may miss it because it's quite small. Doll-sized houses fill a clearing in the woods. Little pathways connect the houses to each other, and then all the pathways lead to a single-point: the throne. Unlike the houses, the throne is human-sized.

We read about the legend on the website: sit upon the throne, and you die in seven years. And one after another, we all sat upon the throne, taking pictures and joking that since we now had seven years to live, we might as well make the most of it.

I was the third to sit, and the first two who did are dead.

What scared us that day happened on the way out, as we were leaving the forest. It was a foggy night, so we all carried flashlights. As we walked, little footsteps pattered on the ground, several yards behind us. Someone, or something, was following us. With our flashlights, we turned around and scanned the area. And then we all saw something none of us could explain. In the distance, several pairs of eyes glowed in the darkness, as if belonging to creatures the size of a doll. And when we shone our flashlights upon them, the creatures scampered away, their footsteps pitter-pattering. Laughter, like that of children, echoed through the woods.

We ran back to the car and drove away. One of my friends claimed she got a good look – that she clearly saw a little person. I still remember Hannah's words. "It had the body of a baby doll, except its hands were just fingerless stumps. All I could see of its face were round, glowing eyes."

The ride home was awkward. Our other two friends reasoned the eyes belonged to forest animals. But I could tell they were shaken up and didn't know what to believe. Hannah didn't back down, insisting that she saw a little person, and I did my best to support her, without taking sides.

I think Hannah felt bad that we didn't believe her, because she stopped hanging out with us after that. It was nice to have a girl in our little group, especially one as cool as her. Though after graduation, we all drifted apart anyway.

One friend became an engineer, the other a doctor. Hannah, I have no idea what happened to her. She seemed to drop off the earth. And myself...I never amounted to much. Despite – or maybe because of – majoring in Astronomy, I work at Starbucks. I always dreamed of becoming the next Neil DeGrasse Tyson or maybe just starting an Astronomy YouTube channel. But aside from owning a few telescopes, I don't do much with my passion. If I live past this day, I promise to make something of my life.

If I live. At 6 PM yesterday, I got a call that my doctor friend was murdered while out for a morning jog. He lived in Washington state. Then at 9 PM, I was informed that my engineer friend was killed while he walked home from work. He lived in Atlanta.

Shocked at this turn of events, I checked the local news in each area to find out more. The description of their deaths was eerily similar. Both were found with their hands amputated, and their blood drained. What are the chances?