Short horror stories

Tommy taffy

Creepypasrawiki.com
Some of you may have read my son's account "Third Parent" about what happened regarding the monster Tommy Taffy. After reading it, after crying over it, I felt compelled to write this. I'm not here to defend my actions. I'm not here to make excuses. I did what I had to so that my family would survive. I knew what Tommy was capable of. I knew what we'd have to endure.

But I also knew that if we could make it five years without pissing off Tommy Taffy, we'd come out of the nightmare alive. How did I know that? Because I had already lived it. I had already been exposed to what that...thing...was capable of. I had seen Tommy's temper, had seen what pushed his buttons. I had already done my five years.

Like I said, I'm not here to defend myself. What happened to my family is unspeakable...but we are alive. No, instead I'm writing this so you can understand why I did what I did. Why I chose to let Tommy do what he did to my wife and children. After you hear my side, after you read what I went through, then you can judge me.

God knows I deserve it.

Tommy first arrived on my street when I was seven. I was an only child and lived with both my parents in a middle class neighborhood. It was a mellow slice of the American Dream, like a cut of apple pie under a smothering layer of vanilla ice cream.

Our street was in a secluded residential neighborhood in the far corner of our sprawling development. There were six houses in total and we were a tight nit bunch, both the parents and children. In the summers we'd have cook outs and in the winter we'd have Christmas parties. It was almost like our block was one big family. Everyone looked out for one another, everyone was generous and considerate; it was a different time, when people trusted one another.

But our picture perfect life shattered when he arrived...

Jesus I'll never forget it.

JULY 1969

I had just gone to bed, my seven year old mind exploring my imagination, turning thought into dream. The moon was a warm slice of yellow in my window, an expanse of stars winking down at me as I drifted off to sleep. I could hear the tv on in the living room, a comforting reminder that my parents were still awake and the monsters under my bed would stay away tonight.

That's when I bolted awake by a knock at the front door downstairs. It was such a sharp contrast to the comforting murmur of the tv that my mind went on full alert as the noise echoed into the house. I sat up in bed, irritated, clutching Growls, my teddy bear. I heard the heavy footsteps of my father walk to the door, probably expecting a neighbor.

The familiar creak of the front door was followed by the muted murmur of conversation. I could hear my father's voice speaking, interrupted on occasion by another male voice I didn't recognize. My mother joined the conversation and I could hear my father getting angry.

Minutes stretched on as the mysterious late night visitor continued to talk with my parents. I slid out of bed and went to my bedroom door, peaking my head out to listen. I still couldn't make out the words but I could tell my father was getting furious. He started yelling and I heard him demand that the visitor leave our house or he was calling the police.

It got very quiet then, so quiet I could hear my heart beating in my chest. Then I heard my mother begin to cry. It was soft, so soft, but it scared me. The nighttime visitor was saying something to my parents, his voice low, and my mother continued to sob.

After a moment, my father said something I couldn't make out. Immediately following, I heard something slam into the wall downstairs so hard the pictures in the hallway crashed to the floor. I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream, heart racing. What was going on?