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I wrote a Creepy-pasta
11 years ago
Hey if you've ever been interested in reading creepy pastas (Which are fun little blurps that are centered around scaring the crap out of you. I recommend Ben Drowned and Pen Pals both are amazing.) I decided to try my hand at writing one. Lemme know what you think of it.
Remember to Dial a One Before the Number
As long as I can remember, I always pushed the number one before dialing a number on the telephone. My mother always insisted upon it. It always surprised me. Every time I touched the phone, I could hear her calling from where ever she was in the house. “Make sure you dial a one before calling anyone.” I never thought to ask why, I just did what I was told.
Years later, when I was in college. My mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer and started to forget rudimentary things. A few times she'd even forgot who I was, but the one thing she never forgot was to remind me to always dial a one before calling anyone. I found this to be a little irksome. I know that she is sick and can't remember a lot of stuff, but she could always remember, dial a one before you call.
I tried asking my mother why, that was the only thing she could remember. As you could have guess. She couldn't give me a straight answer. She wasn't much help. There was only one person I could turn to, my dear granny. If anyone knew my mother better than me, it would be her.
I remember talking to her about it. There was a long blank stare on her face as the words fell out of my mouth. When I finished, she simply scratched her head for a long moment and told me that it started happening it round about the time she got pregnant with me. Something about a crazy dream. That didn't help me out one bit. As I got ready to leave, my granny gave me an old metal lunchbox and told me it belongs to my mother. She'd been holding it for me for years. I took it, gave my granny a hug, and left.
I was so excited to get back to my dorm room and dig through the contents of that lunchbox. When I did, all that was inside, was an old yellowed piece of paper with a ten digits written on it. I guess it could have been a phone number, it had been hastily scribbled across the paper. I had no other options and there was nothing really holding me back.
I dialed the number exactly as it was written on the paper. My heart fluttered and my stomach got churned while I was listening to the phone ringing. Finally there was the click of someone answering my call. There was a loud screech of a network dialing up in my ear. I shouldn't have been surprised. The number was old. No doubt the number hadn't been active for years. I was no closer to discovering what my mom was talking about. So I decided to go to bed and get an early start on the morning.
When I woke up, I was tied to a chair. My hands behind my back. The room was dark around me. I could barely make out that the place looked like a basement. The ropes were pretty tight, I couldn't move very much. It was really too dark to see what's going on. I was so scared that this was going to be my last night on this earth, but not nearly as scared as I was when I heard the door open behind me. I turned to see who was there, but I could see him. I could only hear him. There was heavy footfall coming from behind me. I felt a calloused hand caressing my cheek and a deep rumble of approval. It sounded like a man.
With it's strong man hands, he gripped my hair and lifted me from the chair. I screamed as he bent me over a wooden table that had been in front of me the whole time. I just couldn't see it against the darkness. By this time I was out of my mind with fear, it only grew more intense as I felt him push my nightgown up over my hips. Then I felt the pain of the panties biting into my hips as he tore them off of me.
I screamed for help, I could hear my voice echoing off the walls of the basement. He mumbled something about screaming as much as I wanted, the room was sound proof. All I could think of, was that I was going to die down here in the basement. That this freak was going to rape me and leave me to die in this room alone. My heart ached with despair, I just wanted to get out.
I heard the spit and felt his cold, rough hands probing me. My knees were buckling as I tried to squirm away. I just needed to get away...it was too late. I felt him tearing my innards. I screamed and cried, but it just made him move faster and harder. It hurt so bad, I could feel him all the way into my stomach. I threw up all over the table, all over me. I hoped it would make him stop, but instead he just laughed and went deeper. That was when I felt him cum inside of me. I felt it...and I threw up again.
He simply just pet my hair as if I were a dog and whispered that I was a good girl. I passed out, at least I think I passed out. When I came too, I was laying in my dorm room bed. The whole thing must have been a bad dream. At least I think it was a bad dream. My innards hurt and were cramping up, like it had been real. When I sat up, I was shocked to see that there was blood all over the sheets. I must have started my period early. At least a week earlier by my calculations. That would explain the pain, the blood, and the dream. I got up from bed, cleaned myself and the sheets up. The went about my life.
A few weeks later. I started feeling sick in the mornings. Lethargic, throwing up, long periods of absolute starvation. I went to my doctor to try and find out what is going on. I was pregnant, he said. I was astounded by this fact, because I was a virgin. At least I thought I was a virgin. I told him about the vivid dream I had. The doctor gave me another pregnancy test and confirmed that I was in fact pregnant. Then he asked if he could do a rape kit on me. I agreed, why not I thought. Once he saw that my hymen was still intact, he would know that I was telling the truth, and I couldn't be pregnant.
It wasn't intact, it wasn't a dream. I had been raped. It had been so long since I'd had the dream, that the rape kit was useless. The rapist got away, free and clear, leaving me with his bastard child. I went to my mom to tell her what happened. I told her everything, even showed her the yellowed piece of paper with the numbers on it.
She stared at it for a long time and smiled. “Did you dial a one before the number.” She said, like she always did. I had to think about it for a long time. I don't think I did dial a one. I had to take another long moment to think about it, but I couldn't recall dialing a one. I simple shook my head and sighed. “No, I didn't.” My mom started to giggle for a moment and then looked at me stone faced. “Did you tell your daddy Hi for me, when he came to meet you.”
Remember to Dial a One Before the Number
As long as I can remember, I always pushed the number one before dialing a number on the telephone. My mother always insisted upon it. It always surprised me. Every time I touched the phone, I could hear her calling from where ever she was in the house. “Make sure you dial a one before calling anyone.” I never thought to ask why, I just did what I was told.
Years later, when I was in college. My mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer and started to forget rudimentary things. A few times she'd even forgot who I was, but the one thing she never forgot was to remind me to always dial a one before calling anyone. I found this to be a little irksome. I know that she is sick and can't remember a lot of stuff, but she could always remember, dial a one before you call.
I tried asking my mother why, that was the only thing she could remember. As you could have guess. She couldn't give me a straight answer. She wasn't much help. There was only one person I could turn to, my dear granny. If anyone knew my mother better than me, it would be her.
I remember talking to her about it. There was a long blank stare on her face as the words fell out of my mouth. When I finished, she simply scratched her head for a long moment and told me that it started happening it round about the time she got pregnant with me. Something about a crazy dream. That didn't help me out one bit. As I got ready to leave, my granny gave me an old metal lunchbox and told me it belongs to my mother. She'd been holding it for me for years. I took it, gave my granny a hug, and left.
I was so excited to get back to my dorm room and dig through the contents of that lunchbox. When I did, all that was inside, was an old yellowed piece of paper with a ten digits written on it. I guess it could have been a phone number, it had been hastily scribbled across the paper. I had no other options and there was nothing really holding me back.
I dialed the number exactly as it was written on the paper. My heart fluttered and my stomach got churned while I was listening to the phone ringing. Finally there was the click of someone answering my call. There was a loud screech of a network dialing up in my ear. I shouldn't have been surprised. The number was old. No doubt the number hadn't been active for years. I was no closer to discovering what my mom was talking about. So I decided to go to bed and get an early start on the morning.
When I woke up, I was tied to a chair. My hands behind my back. The room was dark around me. I could barely make out that the place looked like a basement. The ropes were pretty tight, I couldn't move very much. It was really too dark to see what's going on. I was so scared that this was going to be my last night on this earth, but not nearly as scared as I was when I heard the door open behind me. I turned to see who was there, but I could see him. I could only hear him. There was heavy footfall coming from behind me. I felt a calloused hand caressing my cheek and a deep rumble of approval. It sounded like a man.
With it's strong man hands, he gripped my hair and lifted me from the chair. I screamed as he bent me over a wooden table that had been in front of me the whole time. I just couldn't see it against the darkness. By this time I was out of my mind with fear, it only grew more intense as I felt him push my nightgown up over my hips. Then I felt the pain of the panties biting into my hips as he tore them off of me.
I screamed for help, I could hear my voice echoing off the walls of the basement. He mumbled something about screaming as much as I wanted, the room was sound proof. All I could think of, was that I was going to die down here in the basement. That this freak was going to rape me and leave me to die in this room alone. My heart ached with despair, I just wanted to get out.
I heard the spit and felt his cold, rough hands probing me. My knees were buckling as I tried to squirm away. I just needed to get away...it was too late. I felt him tearing my innards. I screamed and cried, but it just made him move faster and harder. It hurt so bad, I could feel him all the way into my stomach. I threw up all over the table, all over me. I hoped it would make him stop, but instead he just laughed and went deeper. That was when I felt him cum inside of me. I felt it...and I threw up again.
He simply just pet my hair as if I were a dog and whispered that I was a good girl. I passed out, at least I think I passed out. When I came too, I was laying in my dorm room bed. The whole thing must have been a bad dream. At least I think it was a bad dream. My innards hurt and were cramping up, like it had been real. When I sat up, I was shocked to see that there was blood all over the sheets. I must have started my period early. At least a week earlier by my calculations. That would explain the pain, the blood, and the dream. I got up from bed, cleaned myself and the sheets up. The went about my life.
A few weeks later. I started feeling sick in the mornings. Lethargic, throwing up, long periods of absolute starvation. I went to my doctor to try and find out what is going on. I was pregnant, he said. I was astounded by this fact, because I was a virgin. At least I thought I was a virgin. I told him about the vivid dream I had. The doctor gave me another pregnancy test and confirmed that I was in fact pregnant. Then he asked if he could do a rape kit on me. I agreed, why not I thought. Once he saw that my hymen was still intact, he would know that I was telling the truth, and I couldn't be pregnant.
It wasn't intact, it wasn't a dream. I had been raped. It had been so long since I'd had the dream, that the rape kit was useless. The rapist got away, free and clear, leaving me with his bastard child. I went to my mom to tell her what happened. I told her everything, even showed her the yellowed piece of paper with the numbers on it.
She stared at it for a long time and smiled. “Did you dial a one before the number.” She said, like she always did. I had to think about it for a long time. I don't think I did dial a one. I had to take another long moment to think about it, but I couldn't recall dialing a one. I simple shook my head and sighed. “No, I didn't.” My mom started to giggle for a moment and then looked at me stone faced. “Did you tell your daddy Hi for me, when he came to meet you.”
Bunners