Add a few chills down your spine here, some horrific nightmares there, sprinkle a few eerie sounds with no explanation, maybe a ghoul, and this could be some pretty good creepypasta.
about my post, A Dark and Stormy Night. Read this through and give me some feedback. This is my first attempt at creepypasta, and I’m eager to learn whether it is as delicious as it sounds.
‘Twas a dark and stormy night, and it was beautiful. People love sunny days and clear nights, but I cannot see how one can hate the rain. It rained last night, and I went outside to see it. Little did I know how fucking scary it would end up being.
The sky was darkening, but there were hints of sun to the west. The light had left, and everything was shrouded in gray. I sat on the back porch, looking out, and I saw the green. The green of the lawn and of the bushes and of the various trees and of the potted plants. Each green was unique. The lack of light highlighted (haha) the differences in the green, somehow canceling out the pure green in all, to reveal the differences (think of it as factoring out common terms). The bushes were yellowish, the tree across the fence tinted red. One tree had shiny leaves, and another’s were slightly blue. A tree across the other fence had red flowers, which attracted the eye. The ghoul to my left had a whitish tint, which may be why I did not notice him until it was too late.
As I sat there staring into the ghoul’s eyes, horrified, I remembered drawing trees when I was younger. I would start with a green to make leaf shapes, and then add in another shade and another. The end result would be a tree with greens of every type. As I looked out, I realized how silly that way was. No tree had both lime green and forest green leaves. Perhaps if I had drawn five different trees, each with leaves of a different green, it would have been better. I sat out there for ten minutes, with my fingers getting dustier and dustier from touching the floor, my eyes growing wider and wider as I remembered the nightmares of my youth. They had all returned, a veritable deluge, at the sight of that ghoul. I endured a couple of mosquito bites too, but that was too trivial a reason to stop admiring the beauty around me. However, a nontrivial reason to stop admiring the beauty around me was the creepy sounds I kept hearing. I first assured myself that they weren’t being emitted by the ghoul’s stomach, but he was still sitting there, contentedly watching me stare at him in horror.
I turned to face the house, and noticed how intolerably pinkish it was inside. It sent chills down my spine. What the hell? Why was it so damned pink in there? The grays of the outside were much lovelier; the incandescent light filled the house with an unnatural glow and unnatural sounds. Those wails just didn’t sound human. I went in and turned off all of the lights. I stood in the darkness and looked about, but it just wasn’t right. So I gave up and sat down on my piano bench, lights still off. I began to play “My Favorite Things”. That was a big mistake. While the music drowned out most of the wails, the wails harmonized with the song, made playing it unbearably creepy. I made more mistakes than usual, but it had a touch of shit-your-pants to it. Something about barely being able to make out the keys and sitting there, playing a song that was originally supposed to cheer children frightened of weather much like what was going on outside. Except I was creeped out beyond belief. See, the ghoul had followed me in.
I turned the lights back on. What looked serene outside made the inside seem dead, or about to be so. I went out to see what my dad was doing in the garage. He was cleaning up, and told me to dump the water samples I used for my science project last year. I had never gotten around to it. Instead of going to the sink (the pipes didn’t usually rattle that way), I turned to the open garage door and jumped out in terror, trying to avoid the ghoul, unscrewing the water bottle and adding just that much more water to the falling rain. I rolled up my jeans and disposed of the other four bottles, one at a time, with growing foreboding. I giggled to myself as I wondered whether it was safe to dump this water and then realized that it didn’t matter; what was the environment to the fucking freaky ghoul following me everywhere! I found one more bottle that needed emptying and savored my last chance to go out in the rain, away from the ghoul, who seemed to worry that his hair would get ruined if he stepped outside.
I returned with my pants legs wet a few centimeters up (1-2 inches for you gorram Americans who cannot understand metric units), my shirt slightly damp, and my face frozen in terror. It was lovely outside, away from the ghoul, but I could not find another bottle to empty. Then my dad saw the ghoul (finally! Took long enough!), and realized it was probably time to shut the garage door before he made it into the house. And so I came back inside; my dark and stormy night had come to an end. Though the ghoul was locked out, the nightmares would remain with me forever.