![Cold Case [Creepypasta OC origin]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/395176371-256-k426646.jpg)
Cold Case [Creepypasta OC origin]
- Reads 9
- Votes 1
- Parts 1
Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Wed, May 28, 2025
The pavement beneath me is almost as cold as my frozen body, the warmth having left it long ago. I no longer smell like my favorite perfume, the once sweet smell now replaced with the rancid stench of rot. I stare up at the sky, unwilling to part with the life I lost, the body I was ripped from. I've waited for days, but no afterlife came. City noises are drowned out by the dreadful silence that followed me into death.
I didn't expect it to end so seen, much less so suddenly.
I had been lying here for days, maybe weeks, but it felt like centuries to me. My soul lifts from the ground, lighter than a feather. I had let my grief weigh me down long enough, it was time to go. I wander endlessly, not a thought in my head.
The silence drives me mad, and the cold makes me shake. I know where I need to go. My plan is risky, but what more do I have to lose? I need closure, and I know a certain someone who has it.
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
The Unexpected (The Vampire Diaries)
The night was cold and the wind was blowing. Their wasn't a being in sight, but that's understanding considering is around midnight. The leaves crunch under my feet and white fog surrounds my face after every exhale of air. I hear a snap from behind me and quickly turn to see what it was...nothing. Turning back, I began to quicken my pace. I'm suddenly shoved to a wall with my neck crammed to the side. "You smell delicious." A voice said. I turn my head only to see a man with jet black hair and icy blue eyes. "P-please. Let me go." I cried. He smirked, "Where's the fun in that?" With that his eyes turned red with veins under them, fangs peeked from his mouth. He latched his fangs in my neck, draining me of my blood. I can slowly feel myself become weaker, slowly start to fade away. I now lay on the ground, my own blood pooled around me, waiting for my life to end...that is until I feel warm liquid run down my throat and hear the sound of my own neck snap. __________________________________________ A/N: I literally hate this story but I don't want to delete it because it's the first one I ever wrote. Fair warning....it sucks.Complete
Gods Favourite Loser
Sometimes I wish I knew what it felt like to be someone else, anyone other than me, really. It's not that I dislike who I am(I do sometimes), or even that I'm lost. It's more like... I'm curious. Curious about the weight of other people's thoughts. The texture of their fears. The shape of their joy. None of us walk the same path, even if the streets overlap. None of us carry the same sky, even when we stand under the same stars. I often wonder, can eyes that have seen different corners of the world ever truly see the same world? Two people, standing side by side, might witness the same event. But they won't feel the same chill in the air. They won't flinch at the same memories. They won't hear the silence in the same way. So maybe we don't live in one world at all. Maybe we live in billions. Each one stitched together by memory, perception, pain, and hope. But maybe we can get close. Maybe, with enough honesty and enough patience, we can build bridges. Quiet little bridges made of words and glances and shared stillness. Maybe we can stretch ourselves across the gap. And maybe, just maybe, if you're willing to meet me there... I can show you what it's like to be me. So come. Walk a little with me. Let me try to emulate this strange maze of thoughts, this ever-shifting fog I call a mind. Let me turn myself inside out for you, just for a moment. The name's Blank. And I welcome you to the world through my eyes, my imaginary audience, watchful, patient, and perhaps just as lost as I am. Together, we might not find all the answers. But maybe, if we're lucky, we'll find the right questions.
You Were Always a Daydreamer Draft Version
When you're forced to mask Reality with Fantasy. The lifted layers finally unveil the tombstone of self. The biggest cities into the tiniest pebbles The massive ideas and thoughts formed into merely something to fear. A protagonist who already forgot his name Remembers He is a Daydreamer. Which is the only way to cope with life after multiple tragedies. And the fraud on fake friends faces. Only to daydream. As losing touch takes a toll on that rotting indulgence slowly. This get's quite horrific as it goes on. It's not to enjoy but to reflect on and experience. I decided to publish the draft version, because I don't think I can fully finish YWAADD final edition any time soon. I am in the worst mental and emotional state ever. It's quite a struggle and I suffer heavily. So yeah, the polished draft kind of holds up aswell too. The final one is way longer and eventful. So, um yeah I don't expect this to get attention at all, it's kind of really mid in some parts. But enjoy, or don't I guess. Yes this was inspired by Everywhere At The End Of Time. And other fan projects.Complete
Ended
I am dying. I know this because i can feel all my senses leaving me. I can see flashes, recollections, of my past. They preen at me through my lashes. But I am calm. There is a feeling of delirium thumping in my heart, spreading through my body. With the little strength that I can muster, I reach out to take hold of the nearest objects to me. It ties me to the earth, but when my eyes no longer see light, the bond that keeps me on this world will be severed, and no longer shall i be alive. What if you and a four other people where the only ones alive on earth? After the Apocalypse, everyone died. Except for five of us. My name is Thalia, when I was thirteen years old, the earth was broken by deadly storms, methane, tsunamis, earthquakes. I survived. For years I wandered the earth, raiding abandoned shops for food, seeking shelter. Now I am fifteen, I feel like I have found a home. I have found a band of survivors like me. These people survived the Apocalypse, and now, we want answers .Complete
The Day I Turned To Stone
They said it would only feel like a moment. Close my eyes, drift off, and wake beneath another sun. I believed them. We all did. The world was ending, and The Passage Program was our last chance to save what was left of it. Sleep through the ruin. Wake to a beginning. I don't remember falling asleep. Just the weight of the air, the pressure in my chest, the feeling that something inside me was... slipping. If I'm awake now, why can't I move? If I'm alive, why does everything feel so still? They said I'd wake to a new world. They never said what it would cost.
Life and Death
Disclaimer: This novel involves abuse, sexual abuse and suicide. A destiny I never chose. A life I never wanted. A heart I swore never to give again. Death should have been my release. Instead, I awoke in another world... in another body... in another life. It should have been a second chance. But scars don't fade just because the skin is new. The memories still haunt me, silent shadows that twist my every thought, every fear, every breath. I care for no one. I trust nothing. I wish only for an end... yet something, some cruel, invisible force always pulls me back from the edge. I am a pawn dressed in silk and gold, forced into a game I never agreed to play. But even in a heart frozen by trauma, the warmth of life begins to seep in. Slowly, I begin to feel again. To breathe again. To hope. Then fate strikes once more. Another decision, made without me. Another future, sealed by hands not my own. And I realize... I may have escaped death, but not destiny. In a world of monsters, thrones and betrayal, can a shattered soul carve her own fate or will the past always bind her to a future she never wanted?
Alkaria - unedited
I hear the clanking of metal loud and rigid from behind me, I feel the wind rush past as I sprint, they are still chasing me. I'll be honest I don't know what to do, quite frankly it's hard to think straight right now. I feel my body shutting down as the adrenaline is losing its punch, I can't run any faster. I'm always running, they are always chasing me. I don't even know why they chase me, I don't know what I did and like them they won't say. Do they even know? Am I just unlucky? Someone they picked at random to be the new subject of there torture? I wont let it happen. That's why I'll stay free, never fully contained. I think about the one I love, Charlie. I don't know where he is, I don't even know if he is safe. "Hey! Weapon down sarge, we don't want to kill her!" A guard's shout smacks me out of my train of thought. By this point I've gained some distance due to them having heavy armour. This stops me in my tracks though, I hear the guards slow down too. I stop, I realise, they want me alive. They aren't going to kill me, they don't want me dead. I have a gun, if I just point it at myself what are they going to do? I turn around and I look at all of the guards who have stopped in their tracks heaving in confusion. It's silent, even the wind is merely a whisper, all that can be heard is the panting of everyone on scene. They want me alive, they want me alive. I turn around, towards my chasers. I notice the guards straighten as I do so, instinctively I hold my gun to my neck, one bullet left, not enough for all of them but enough to kill me. They don't want me dead. I look to see all of them freeze in shock before one of the guards takes a step forward. I can't see their face, I can't see anyone's face but I feel like I need to know who this is. Before I can react they raise their gun and shoot. Pain explodes in my leg and I fall, all that running, for nothing. All I see now is black, I can't hear everything but I still feel conscious.
Tethered
Bright lights, the beat of the music beneath my feet. Distant chatter, quite whispers. The feeling of joy, loss, heartbreak, and loneliness surround me. Buried in a crowd, drowning under the gazes of people who look through you. I am but of glass, a mirror if you will, willing to be seen through, but not seen. Screaming in a room full of people when no one can hear you, let alone see you. Hidden breaths, rising, falling. Isn't that funny, falling? Laughing would be easier than standing here in the crowded place, filled with people, faces, judging every moment the other makes. I could tell you the peace I get standing alone in a room filled with people who only see you as a mirror for who they don't want to be. I could cry tears of blood, and non would ever so much bat an eye in my direction, but I love it. The feeling of being unseen as to appose being seen for the matieral object I once was. Silent, unmoving, unwilling. I am but an idea, glass, shatterable, broken beyond compare. But strong, resistance flows through me. Willing me to be the best I can be, but can I? Who says I make sense, who says I am even me, am I? That's a question I spent years wondering. Who would I be without these scars that tether my skin, marking each even, like a calender. To mend the feelings people have isn't a easy thing, but to break is easy, always easy. How easy it is to forget, to run. I can feel the ground beneath my feet, feel the soil in-between the crooks of my toes, I could describe to you the smell of the rain. Pinpoint the center of the earth, but as I stand here, again amongst the crowd of people stand in this room. I am lost again, an idea, but for what purpose? If I could run, navigate my way through this crowd, I would seek refuge somewhere dark and cold, where I could take off this cloak and be one with who I am, or want to be.
The night was cold and the wind was blowing. Their wasn't a being in sight, but that's understanding considering is around midnight. The leaves crunch under my feet and white fog surrounds my face after every exhale of air. I hear a snap from behind me and quickly turn to see what it was...nothing. Turning back, I began to quicken my pace. I'm suddenly shoved to a wall with my neck crammed to the side. "You smell delicious." A voice said. I turn my head only to see a man with jet black hair and icy blue eyes. "P-please. Let me go." I cried. He smirked, "Where's the fun in that?" With that his eyes turned red with veins under them, fangs peeked from his mouth. He latched his fangs in my neck, draining me of my blood. I can slowly feel myself become weaker, slowly start to fade away. I now lay on the ground, my own blood pooled around me, waiting for my life to end...that is until I feel warm liquid run down my throat and hear the sound of my own neck snap. __________________________________________ A/N: I literally hate this story but I don't want to delete it because it's the first one I ever wrote. Fair warning....it sucks.
More detailsContent Guidelines