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u/DarquaetheShade

City of Eternal Sunset
▲ 3 r/creepypastachannel

City of Eternal Sunset

The Sky over one city remains permanently stuck at sunset for 13 years.

Glezmerelda Starr was out of everyone's league. She was beautiful, rich and amazingly talented. She had style, grace, charisma and a personality that made everyone fall in love with her. People would always remark at how smart and classy she was. She was a shining star on stage with a voice that pacified all critics. She had been awarded for her dramatic monologues and it didn't stop there. No, she wasn't just an angel of theater, she was also a painter, a sculptor and a myriad of other artistic ideals. She had many lovers, a ton of friends and an ocean of adoring fans. There existed no one more sophisticated and beloved than her. At least that is what she thought.

In truth, Glezmerelda was narcissistic and delusional. Sure, she acted on the stage and carried a tune, but her notes were always off, her words too drawn out and over the top. Most of her parts were given to her over the hype that she delivered, only to have been a disappointment in the end. However, no one wanted to tell her and the enabling began. They fed into her delusion by being overly nice to her and encouraging her behavior. Her paintings and other creations were average at best and oozed with a certain desperation. Any money that she made off of them were simply pity buys and her work ended up in more attics than on any actual walls. Of course, all of this was in her hay days. Now that she was seasoned and bordering on old age, Glezmerelda had retired from the arts. Instead she lived a life of luxury, pretending to have money and latching on to anyone who actually had it. She married rich and became a widow even richer.

Glezmerelda traveled a lot and so one day, she found herself in a small rural town in Northern Vermont. You see Vermont had everything she was looking for. It had a water fronts, fields with cows and bison, ski resorts, the Von Trapp family lodge. The town she settled on was a stone's throw from Canada in a place known as a Kingdom. It was perfect. She found an old mansion nearly in the center of town online and purchased it immediately with the inherited funds of her former husband. It was draining fast, but she barely blinked at things like this. She would find another, it was only a matter of time. Glezmerelda did not physically see her new town until she was given the key to her fully furnished mansion of the hill top. It had a private view on the monstrous lake. On her first day, Glezmerleda sat on her new back porch with a glass of expensive champagne, smoking a cigarette nuzzled in a long stemmed fancy purple holder. The smoke snaked around her false teeth and re-entered through her nostrils. She watched the sunset and sighed.

I do love a good sunset. It's my favorite time of the day. The time when all the colors of the world dance in the sky at least half as well as I do. It's like a celebration of me. She thought to herself.

Thirteen years later, Glezmerelda continued to live in that house, living her most fabulous life. Everyone in town knew her. What she had failed to notice that was since her arrival, the sky above the town had permanently become stuck on sunset. There was no darkness of night, no light of early morning. Everyone in town knew her, it was true. However, they did not know her as Glezmerelda Starr, the socialite of the Universe. No, they knew as the Crickety-Dickery woman. She had become an Urban Legend. The delusional old witch who had cursed the town upon her arrival. The seasons still turned and the winters were extra harsh without the full strength of afternoon sun. Glezmerelda would travel to warmer climates. The town remained stuck at sunset even in her absence. It was easier to live without fear when the witch was away. They always knew when she came back. There would be a sighting and everyone would quiver in fearful anticipation. The frantic whispers would appear.

"Watch out for the Crickety-dickery woman," parents would say, "if she catches you, she will slowly suck the life out of you. Do your chores or she'll come for you."

Of course, Glezmerelda was oblivious to all of this. When she paraded into stores, the shopkeeper and customers fell all over her in praise. She believed it to be admiration when instead it was fear driven compliance. They were terrified to anger her. After all, she had cursed the city to perpetual sunset because she liked it here. Imagine what she would do if they angered her? No, they weren't going to take the risk. They were desperate, but unsure of what to do. The local pastor was at his wits end. He tried to comfort the people the best that he could. It wasn't easy living in a cursed city. This had been thirteen years, it was becoming exhausting.

One sunset, he went for a solitary walk along the beaches and coves. He prayed for his city. As he turned the corner, he stopped in his tracks. Sitting at the water's edge was a strange creature. Its body was silver-blue with a darker blue stripe running down its back. It was about seven feet in height. Branching out from the sides were six, delicate appendages that looked like fingers or wings. It was a giant sea slug, the ones known as the Blue Sea Dragon. The pastor had heard whispered rumors of a lake monster, but he never imagined that they would be real. He had to be dreaming. The creature took notice of him and sighed dramatically. It shimmered with bio-luminescence sparks of purple, blue and silver. In a moment's time, he was a man and only his hair matched the intricate color patterns of his true self.

"You've caught me," he smiled at the pastor. "I shall grant you a wish."

It reminded the pastor of an old story revolving around a man catching a magic fish that granted him a wish. He had only one thing in his heart. To break the curse of the eternal sunset. The creature told him just how to do it. The next day, Pastor called a town meeting. It was getting warmer and that meant that the Crickety-Dickery woman would be returning to her home. It was now or never. He carefully detailed his plan to the town. They all agreed, they had to. If one single person strayed from the plan, it would be all for nothing. This had to work.

When the Crickety-Dickery woman returned, she strutted immediately into town to show off her tan and her cultural obsessions. However, to her dismay it was not the parade of celebration. Instead every towns person completely ignored her. At first, she thought it was a fluke, but it happened everywhere. They weren't just ignoring her, they were completely oblivious to her presence. It was as if she was a ghost. She returned to her mansion home and gazed out at the sunset. Her home no longer adored her. It was time to move on. She placed an ad online to sell her home. That night, sunset faded into darkness. The City slept soundly for the first time in their lives. The curse was broken.

The house never sold, but she did move away to find another place that would love her. In her absence, the small city began to flourish again. The pastor never did tell anyone about his wish or how he had known to break the spell. He kept the secret of the lake monster fondly within his heart.

As you lay your head down to sleep tonight, think of all the vacant mansions in your city and remember...

The Crickety-Dickery woman will eat your soul

The Crickety-Dickery woman will hunger for more

She banished the city to eternal sunset

You'll wish you'd never met

The Crickety-Dickery woman

She will take it all

Avert your eyes and she shall fall

u/DarquaetheShade — 6 days ago
▲ 2 r/creepypastachannel

At Midnight

At Midnight

At midnight on Friday the 13^(th)****, every mirror shows the same stranger standing behind you. I was looking at the mirror and frowning at what I saw. My face was a roadmap that I no longer could follow. There were lines that weren't there yesterday. An assortment of wrinkles that could have put Eeyore to shame. I wasn't taking the idea of aging gracefully and running with it. I was picking it apart like an old scab. I hated it. I made a series of face meant to be flattering, my own blue steel, if you will. Ugh. I made another round of weird and angry faces. I was about to stick my tongue out in disgust when I saw it.

There was a shadowy figure behind me. It was a man. He stood menacingly silent with a single finger raised. He was accusing me. I could see no features upon his blurry face that would indicate this, but I could feel it. The raw anger touched my spine and ran its cold fingers down it. I felt as though my actual bones were flinching in spasms down the trail. I immediately turned around to face him, but there was no one there. I turned back to the mirror. The only part of his face that could be seen were his yellow eyes. I swear to God, they were yellow eyes!

I tried all of the usual things to debunk what I was seeing. I videoed it on my phone, but I could see him in the footage. Of course, I posted it to social media although the virtual traffic seemed kind of silent. Weird. I closed my eyes and opened them again so many times that I had sprained my eyelids. A pain that is a special treat meant for only royalty. I ran through the house and checked other mirrors, but he was always there. He was even in the black reflection from my fridge and stove. I washed everything down with moonwater and Windex. I even tried covering them with sheets, but they kept falling off.

I did what any sane person would do. I fled my house because surely it was haunted. I started driving away as fast as I could. I put on my favorite jam list and sang along in a shaky voice. I rolled down the windows and let the cold air slap me across the face for calling it Shirley. After a bit, I felt a little more relaxed. I was revving up to the hit the high note on my favorite song when my eyes flickered over to look in the rear-a-view mirror. There he was! I screamed like a hysterical little girl and flinched so hard that I lost control of the car. A tree stopped me. The impact stole my breath and left me stunned for a moment. I managed to get my car door open and I fell onto the street. It was not a quiet night. I could hear a commotion up in town. With a crappy little feeling of pure dread in my heart, I ran to investigate.

Once I arrived to the scene, I realized why the social media traffic had been so silent. The street was lined with panicked people. As I approached a storefront, I saw my reflection in it. He was still there. I couldn't see what was frightening the other people, but I could take an educated guess. They either saw him as well, or they saw their own individual version of him. Was this an apocalypse by means of ghosts? What the hell was happening? You guessed it, every storefront window, every glass display case, anything and everything that cast any sort of reflection, he was there.

As I ran screaming the street, I realized there was no escape plan. He would follow me wherever I went. I needed some sort of plan. I went home and went straight to bed. I awoke hoping it had been a dream, but he was still there. This wasn't over and it wasn't a trick of the night. I had heard once that Saturday the 14^(th) was supposed to be worse. I saw it only as a beginning. I put duct tape over a pair of sunglasses and pretended to be blind. It might not have been the best choice and I'm sure he was still there watching me. He probably was laughing his head off at the stupidity of my plan. I didn't care. I couldn't see him and that was all that mattered.

I moved out to the country, painted all of my windows black and left the house void of mirrors. I never dusted the wooden furniture and I only used a hearth and fire to cook. I had all my food delivered. I thought I was safe. I took the glasses out one night and and went outside. I felt free. I had beaten the system. I felt better until I came up to the lake. There in the reflection of the water, he was still there!

I screamed and jumped into the freezing cold liquid pit, beating it with my fists. He was still there distorted in every ripple or wave, but still there. I could not escape him. I waded further out into the water, prepared to end it all. I swam to the bottom of the lake and held onto plants, but eventually the lack of oxygen made me black out. I must have let go. I woke up in the hospital a few days later. A hunter had seen me and saved me. I was going crazy. Even here in the hospital, every shiny surface, he was there and no one could see him. No one else was being bothered, so either they weren't foolish to look in the mirror at midnight on Friday the 13^(th) or I was nuts. I wanted to make it end.

In desperation, I grabbed the bed pan, shocked to see that he was not in this reflective surface. He was not in the steel or the small reflective golden lake within. Why was he everywhere except here? That's when I felt the hot breath on my neck and he spoke for the first time.

"I have standards,: he scoffed. "I'm not going anywhere near your pee."

This gave me an idea. I doused myself in pee every day since. I know it's gross, but hear me out. He haunts me no more. I am free. I am lonely and I smell like a sewer, but I am free. I lived like this for two years. I was the strange, smelly hermit that lived just outside of town. Children wept in my presence and older ladies screamed, Dear God, what is that thing? It was harsh, but I got used to it. At least the mirror stranger was gone. I'm not going to lie, I grew bitter over those two years. I decided that I was going to prove that I had beaten him.

It was midnight on the following Friday the 13^(th). I had bought a new mirror. My reflection was worse. My eyes were sunken in, my skin stained yellow from the constant baths of urine. My new beard was crusted and almost orange from absorbing so much of my waste. I was disgusted with myself. I was about to turn away when I saw him again. He was back! Filled with terror, I made another urine bath and began to soak. I glanced back at the mirror. He was gone! HA HA! I had proven that I beat him. I sighed in relief and closed my eyes. This is when I felt the hand on the top of my head.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "It will make the world a better place."

He pushed me into my own golden tomb and held me down while I slowly drowned in my pee. I awoke several hours or days later, I couldn't tell you when. I was standing in the dark. A light appeared and I could see a man looking into a mirror. Hey, it was me! That was impossible. I pointed at him in confusion and that was when he saw me. He screamed. He looked behind him. He opened and closed his eyes a lot. He washed the mirror. I followed him from surface to surface. By the time he crashed the car, I was already hip to what was happening. Reality seeped into me faster than piss in your pores. It was me. It had been me all along. Would I drown myself in pee this time? What would happen to me then? Where would I go once he became me? Another fate, perhaps?

I don't know. All I do know is that the afterlife smells like a toilet and now I have to wait until the next Friday the 13^(th) to escape. If I don't, would I be trapped here forever? I guess I'l find out when the time comes, if I don't die from the stench first. I am such a dirty bastard.

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u/DarquaetheShade — 8 days ago
▲ 2 r/Creepypastastories+1 crossposts

At Dawn

At Dawn

At dawn, the graves hum softly, as if warming up their voices. The small gnarled trees shivered and danced in the cool winds. They raved in anticipation as the shadow slid into the graveyard. This was the night when the spirits of years past could really let some of their creative juices flow. Every graveyard was surely jealous now. The shadow reached the center of the yard and stood tall. He was cloaked and mysterious.

In his hand was gripped an old wand made of bone. It was adorned with stones and purple moss. As quietly as a secret, the Necromancer raised the wand and cleared his throat. The entire graveyard stirred and waited for the first gesture to spark it all His arms danced a blind melody and the voices of the dead rose to meet the occasion. The ancient song began. The night came alive, but no animal dared join in the chorus. This celebration was for the dead alone. The Necromancer chose a different one every night. It never ceased to amaze him how different and beautiful each set of voices were.

Young maidens opened with haunting falsettos that rose and fell off their backs in spectral wings of melodious beauty. They were the Sirens calling the men to their deaths. They were perfect. The tenors took over for the wind section, gliding across the song as though it were a slide. The older men dead for much longer took up the alto bass lines, making the very earth hum and tremble. The Necromancer drew a breath as the music crowned for the solo to begin. The Christine to his Phantom. Her voice lifted his resolve and for the first time he felt his cold heart flutter. Oh, how he loved her voice.

The Necromancer had heard many beauties sing over the thousands of years that he had been doing this. However, he had never heard one quite as enchanting as hers. She truly was an angel of music. His eyes glanced over her gravestone. Her name was Melody, was that not a sign? He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in her notes. Its perfume swam around in his head and made him dizzy with pleasure. He had found his muse at last.

He had not known her in life. But he now fantasized about what she must have been like. He pictured her as a stunning beauty with long flowing, silky hair and bright piercing eyes. She must have been a professional singer or dancer. She haunted his thoughts and waltzed through his dreams. The choir rose up to greet her and the Necromancer knew that the song was almost over. He would have to leave now in search of the next graveyard. It would be such a shame to leave a singer like this behind. But alas, he could not. No, he absolutely could not!

Tonight, he knew he was dangerously close to breaking his own rules. He hadn't resurrected anyone in years. The world today was too trained to look for zombies thanks to that idiot box. He would be putting her in danger if they were ever found. He could not take her with him on the road as he wanted. But if he could just hear her voice once without using ghostly hearing. Yes, he had to. It was stupid and it was risky, but so in love was he with her voice. He had to hear it with his own ears, if only once in his long, long lifetime. His mind was made up before he could even begin to properly think it through.

He concentrated and chanted, breaking his boundaries and raising his musical crush from the ground. The earth split open and she rose, covered by a sheen mist of green light. Her flesh was rotting and so he cast a healing spell to clean her up a bit. Once the hair and some of her skin had grown back, he began to smile. She was everything that he imagined. She was stunning. He began to think about taking her on the road with him again. It was forbidden. Fine, only once just to slate his thirst of curiosity.

"Now sing, my love," he smiled, feeling his heart pound as she took her first breath and opened her mouth.

"PUTTING ON THE RITZ!"

The Necromancer cringed at the loud and intrusive wailing that violated the night. The corpse stood there, beaming a smile at him as if she had just won the Olympics. The Necromancer smiled awkwardly back and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up. He then pulled back his magic, returning her to the grave. His ears were still bleeding and ringing with the wounds of her voice. He would never escape it all the days and nights of his long, long life.

In his haste, he had forgotten two very important things. One: that the dead always sang better than the undead and Two: Never meet your crush. Disappointed and deflated, the Necromancer allows the ghosts to finish the last stanza of his masterpiece. He swept his wand and placed them all back to their slumber, no longer his lonely puppets. He pocketed his wand slowly made his way out of the graveyard. Next time, he would stick to his normal routine and let the melody of the dead remain untouched. As he passed the open gate to leave the dead behind, he heard a rustle from above. He glanced up just as the large crow looked down at him and cackled out a laugh.

"Shut up," he muttered, bowing his head in shame.

The Necromancer trudged on, grateful that he would not be back this way for a few thousand years. He wondered how long her voice would haunt him. How long before his soul stopped weeping? Immortality is a long time to never forget and less time to forgive.

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u/DarquaetheShade — 8 days ago
▲ 3 r/Creepypastastories+1 crossposts

At midnight on Friday the 13^(th)****, every mirror shows the same stranger standing behind you. I was looking at the mirror and frowning at what I saw. My face was a road map that I no longer could follow. There were lines that weren't there yesterday. An assortment of wrinkles that could have put Eeyore to shame. I wasn't taking the idea of aging gracefully and running with it. I was picking it apart like an old scab. I hated it. I made a series of face meant to be flattering, my own blue steel, if you will. Ugh. I made another round of weird and angry faces. I was about to stick my tongue out in disgust when I saw it.

There was a shadowy figure behind me. It was a man. He stood menacingly silent with a single finger raised. He was accusing me. I could see no features upon his blurry face that would indicate this, but I could feel it. The raw anger touched my spine and ran its cold fingers down it. I felt as though my actual bones were flinching in spasms down the trail. I immediately turned around to face him, but there was no one there. I turned back to the mirror. The only part of his face that could be seen were his yellow eyes. I swear to God, they were yellow eyes!

I tried all of the usual things to debunk what I was seeing. I videoed it on my phone, but I could see him in the footage. Of course, I posted it to social media although the virtual traffic seemed kind of silent. Weird. I closed my eyes and opened them again so many times that I had sprained my eyelids. A pain that is a special treat meant for only royalty. I ran through the house and checked other mirrors, but he was always there. He was even in the black reflection from my fridge and stove. I washed everything down with Moon water and Windex. I even tried covering them with sheets, but they kept falling off.

I did what any sane person would do. I fled my house because surely it was haunted. I started driving away as fast as I could. I put on my favorite jam list and sang along in a shaky voice. I rolled down the windows and let the cold air slap me across the face for calling it Shirley. After a bit, I felt a little more relaxed. I was revving up to the hit the high note on my favorite song when my eyes flickered over to look in the rear-a-view mirror. There he was! I screamed like a hysterical little girl and flinched so hard that I lost control of the car. A tree stopped me. The impact stole my breath and left me stunned for a moment. I managed to get my car door open and I fell onto the street. It was not a quiet night. I could hear a commotion up in town. With a crappy little feeling of pure dread in my heart, I ran to investigate.

Once I arrived to the scene, I realized why the social media traffic had been so silent. The street was lined with panicked people. As I approached a storefront, I saw my reflection in it. He was still there. I couldn't see what was frightening the other people, but I could take an educated guess. They either saw him as well, or they saw their own individual version of him. Was this an apocalypse by means of ghosts? What the hell was happening? You guessed it, every storefront window, every glass display case, anything and everything that cast any sort of reflection, he was there.

As I ran screaming the street, I realized there was no escape plan. He would follow me wherever I went. I needed some sort of plan. I went home and went straight to bed. I awoke hoping it had been a dream, but he was still there. This wasn't over and it wasn't a trick of the night. I had heard once that Saturday the 14^(th) was supposed to be worse. I saw it only as a beginning. I put duct tape over a pair of sunglasses and pretended to be blind. It might not have been the best choice and I'm sure he was still there watching me. He probably was laughing his head off at the stupidity of my plan. I didn't care. I couldn't see him and that was all that mattered.

I moved out to the country, painted all of my windows black and left the house void of mirrors. I never dusted the wooden furniture and I only used a hearth and fire to cook. I had all my food delivered. I thought I was safe. I took the glasses out one night and and went outside. I felt free. I had beaten the system. I felt better until I came up to the lake. There in the reflection of the water, he was still there!

I screamed and jumped into the freezing cold liquid pit, beating it with my fists. He was still there distorted in every ripple or wave, but still there. I could not escape him. I waded further out into the water, prepared to end it all. I swam to the bottom of the lake and held onto plants, but eventually the lack of oxygen made me black out. I must have let go. I woke up in the hospital a few days later. A hunter had seen me and saved me. I was going crazy. Even here in the hospital, every shiny surface, he was there and no one could see him. No one else was being bothered, so either they weren't foolish to look in the mirror at midnight on Friday the 13^(th) or I was nuts. I wanted to make it end.

In desperation, I grabbed the bed pan, shocked to see that he was not in this reflective surface. He was not in the steel or the small reflective golden lake within. Why was he everywhere except here? That's when I felt the hot breath on my neck and he spoke for the first time.

"I have standards," he scoffed. ™I'm not going anywhere near your pee."

This gave me an idea. I doused myself in pee every day since. I know it's gross, but hear me out. He haunts me no more. I am free. I am lonely and I smell like a sewer, but I am free. I lived like this for two years. I was the strange, smelly hermit that lived just outside of town. Children wept in my presence and older ladies screamed, Dear God, what is that thing? It was harsh, but I got used to it. At least the mirror stranger was gone. I'm not going to lie, I grew bitter over those two years. I decided that I was going to prove that I had beaten him.

It was midnight on the following Friday the 13^(th). I had bought a new mirror. My reflection was worse. My eyes were sunken in, my skin stained yellow from the constant baths of urine. My new beard was crusted and almost orange from absorbing so much of my waste. I was disgusted with myself. I was about to turn away when I saw him again. He was back! Filled with terror, I made another urine bath and began to soak. I glanced back at the mirror. He was gone! HA HA! I had proven that I beat him. I sighed in relief and closed my eyes. This is when I felt the hand on the top of my head.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "It will make the world a better place."

He pushed me into my own golden tomb and held me down while I slowly drowned in my pee. I awoke several hours or days later, I couldn't tell you when. I was standing in the dark. A light appeared and I could see a man looking into a mirror. Hey, it was me! That was impossible. I pointed at him in confusion and that was when he saw me. He screamed. He looked behind him. He opened and closed his eyes a lot. He washed the mirror. I followed him from surface to surface. By the time he crashed the car, I was already hip to what was happening. Reality seeped into me faster than piss in your pores. It was me. It had been me all along. Would I drown myself in pee this time? What would happen to me then? Where would I go once he became me? Another fate, perhaps?

I don't know. All I do know is that the afterlife smells like a toilet and now I have to wait until the next Friday the 13^(th) to escape. If I don't, would I be trapped here forever? I guess I'll find out when the time comes, if I don't die from the stench first. I am such a dirty bastard.

reddit.com
u/DarquaetheShade — 18 days ago