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/x/ - Paranormal

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File: cbddf2d1bc35c08⋯.jpg (292.14 KB, 960x638, 480:319, Untitled-1.jpg)

 No.51307

You look across the small room at your therapist, sitting in his chair. He’s patiently staring at you, waiting for you to talk. You know the drill. If you don’t talk, you’ll both sit in silence. He gets paid either way.

“I guess, that as long as I’m here I might as well make the best of it, huh?”

He doesn’t say anything and waits for you to continue.

You give a deep sigh. “You know, I’m actually starting to think that there just might be something wrong with me after all.” Pause. “I think I’m hallucinating.”

You’re sure that his eyes widen, but you don’t bother to check before continuing. “It’s bugs. I’m seeing them everywhere.” Your voice becomes shaky. “At first, it was just a black dot skirting here or there, and when I’d look for it directly, it would just vanish as though it weren’t there at all. I turn on the lights and I feel like hundreds of little black bugs skitter into the dark parts of the room. I’m not brave enough to look into the cracks to see. During the night, I’ve woken up and felt them on me, crawling over my skin. It sends me into an immediate panic attack. You know that feeling you get when you accidentally walk through a spiders web and you are terrified that the spider is now somewhere on your body? It’s that. I’m feeling like that all the time now.

“The other day, I dropped a dish in the kitchen. I was about to put it in the sink when I saw a bug creep up my arm. I dropped the plate when I shook my arm and then… no bug! I almost cried. My parents don’t care. They think I’m insane. My dad just sits lazily in front of the television like he always does. My mom spent the whole weekend just lying in bed, tired from work. I cleaned up the broken dish from the floor. I knew if I didn’t, I’d get in trouble. But it was hard for me to clean up with those bugs swarming around on the floor. I hate bugs. Always have.

“I see more of them now than a few days ago. And I can feel them in the air, too. Big ones, small ones. I run into them as I walk through the house like a bunch of gnats or flies or something, and my stomach keeps churning. I spend a lot of time in bathroom throwing up because of all the cockroaches and maggots and other insects.”

You shiver and look at him. Yep. They’re still there, just like you thought they would be.

“You know, Doc, I’ve started seeing them on people, too. The flickering glow of the TV at night made me think I saw them all over my dad’s face. I shrieked and ran to my room before he could yell at me for interrupting the show. Yesterday, I saw the bugs all over my mom as she slept soundly and I thought about them doing the same to me every time I went to sleep. I’ve had to start telling myself, ‘the bugs aren’t real, the bugs aren’t real, the bugs aren’t real,’ over and over again just to make it through the day.

“They’re on you, too, Doc. That’s why I can’t look at you. They’re on your clothes and going in and out of your nose as you stare at me like that. I’m crazy, I know it. I just want to be free of all these bugs. Is there any medicine or anything you can give me to end this torture?”

Your therapist says nothing, but keeps a pensive expression. The bugs crawling all over him.

“Look, I’ve finally opened up now! I shared with you, now help me!” You stand up and angrily kick his chair. The corpse of your therapist falls stiffly to the side. The flies start swarming around the office and some maggots fall out the neck-hole you made with those scissors a few days ago.

“The bugs aren’t real. The bugs aren’t real. The bugs aren’t real.”

 No.51311

Hello, /x/. I was hoping to get some feedback and general opinions. I haven't written a creepypasta or short story since high school about 10 years ago. I'm the author of that Doors creepypasta, and I think I had some inspiration the other night to write this one. If this isn't the place for it, my bad. I just remember that the first time I posted my creepypasta back in the day was on halfchan's /x/ board. I might write more in the future, since I really miss creative writing. Growing up sucks sometimes if you lose the things you enjoyed when you were younger.


 No.51315

The twist isn't too believable. The main character killed his mother, his father, and his therapist, and they're just been sitting like that for several days? The setup was pretty great, but the ending felt a little anticlimatic. I don't know whether there's any better advice I can offer. Maybe I was expecting some kind of Song of Saya story, but it would've been even worse if you just copied something all of /x/ knows about already. I guess the only thing that really could've helped it is making it longer, but I know you must have other things to do.


 No.51316

>>51315

I thought about that. I like the twist in the story, but I didn't know how to incorporate it in a way that might be believable.

Maybe adding something about how the therapist is working on the weekend to see the narrator and him casually saying something about, "Well, I guess since you don't have a wife or kids, it's not that big a deal, right?" As a sort of joke through the nervousness.

"Must be nice having a private practice with no one to answer to." He sits, judging. "Yeah, I'm deflecting. Anyway…"

That way, it could be that the narrator killed his parents, went to his therapist, killed him to, and since he was a private practice with no family, no one has really discovered any of this yet.

Think that might work?


 No.51317

>>51316

Yeah, that might work better. Maybe it could go through the span of two days, but there's a bit of this gap at the end of the first. I don't know what it'd do for the mood of the story, but as an intermission, I guess we could follow the protagonist experiencing these kinds of things first-hand at home.


 No.51318

>>51317

Oh, I don't know how I would do that. Like a narration of the murders before an intermission and then pick up with the therapist? Because unless everything is viewed retrospectively, the twist doesn't exactly work. Or do you mean have one session with him (when he's dead), then another session in a few days (when he's deader)?


 No.51319

>>51318

Sorry, I misunderstood the first quote as the psychiatrist's dialogue and assumed you were talking about this small period of time where he's actually alive. I thought to make that work, you could just have him die afterwards in this convenient narrative gap.

Anyway, disregard my last post, something like that should probably work.


 No.51329

>>51307

>>51311

As far as creepypastas go, this one is pretty good. The ending felt a bit rushed, but I think there's an easy way to fix that without extending the story. "The body of your therapist falls stiffly to the side." That way, you reveal the truth without shoving it down the reader's throat: he has to pause a second to realize what happened.

And I would change all the you's to I's. I'm not sure why you chose to use the 2nd person, when either the 1st or 3rd would have worked better. But other than that, I enjoyed it.


 No.51341

>>51307

Works well as a short horror story, I like it. Good job OP


 No.51343

>>51329

Thank you for the feedback. I chose second person because I feel like it puts the reader into the story a little bit more effectively. I can see the issues, though. I appreciate the suggestions.

>>51341

Thank you.


 No.51344

Just leave Out the Part with THe murder and keep it ambiguos

Lol my Phone is fucked


 No.51374

>>51329

<>I made a few changes to the story. This work better?

I look across the small room at my therapist, sitting in his chair. He’s patiently staring at me, waiting for me to talk. I know the drill. If I don’t talk, we’ll both sit in silence. He gets paid either way.

“I guess, that as long as we’re here we might as well make the best of it, huh?”

He doesn’t say anything and waits for me to continue.

I give a deep sigh. “I know, I’m actually starting to think that there just might be something wrong with me after all. I’m grateful you’ve let me steal the last bit of your weekend. I’m sure you’d rather be home. But I guess you don’t really have a wife or kids to complain, right? In your private practice, I guess I come first,” I chortle a bit nervously. I begin to think he isn’t amused. “I know, I know. I’m deflecting like I always do… Doc, I think I’m hallucinating.”

I’m sure that his eyes widen, but I don’t bother to check before continuing. “It’s bugs. I’m seeing them everywhere.” My voice becomes shaky. “At first, it was just a black dot skirting here or there, and when I’d look for it, it would just vanish as though it weren’t there at all. I turn on the lights and I feel like hundreds of little black bugs skitter into the dark parts of the room. I’m not brave enough to look after them into the cracks underneath the furniture. During the night, I’ve woken up and felt them on me, crawling over my skin. It sends me into an immediate panic attack. You know that feeling you get when you accidentally walk through a spider’s web and you are terrified that the spider is now somewhere on your body? It’s that. I’m feeling like that all the time now.

“The other day, I dropped a dish in the kitchen. I was about to put it in the sink when I saw a bug creep up my arm. I dropped the plate when I shook my arm. Then… nothing; no bug! I almost cried. My parents don’t care. They think I’m insane. My dad just sits lazily in front of the television like he always does. My mom spent the whole weekend just lying in bed. I cleaned up the broken dish from the floor. I knew if I didn’t, I’d get in trouble. They haven’t spoken to me in days and I want to keep it that way.

“I see more of them now than a few days ago. The bugs, I mean. And they fly around in the air, too. Big ones, small ones. I run into them as I walk through the house. A bunch of gnats or flies or something, and my stomach keeps churning. I spend a lot of time in bathroom throwing up because of all the cockroaches and maggots and other insects. It smells bad. Can you hallucinate smells?”

I shiver and look up at him. Yep. They’re still there, just like I thought they would be.

“You know, Doc, I’ve started seeing them on people, too. All over people. The flickering glow of the TV at night made me think I saw them all over my dad’s face. I shrieked and ran to my room before he could yell at me for interrupting his show. Yesterday, when I was gathering laundry, I saw the bugs all over my mom as she slept soundly and I thought about them doing the same to me every time I went to sleep. I’ve had to start telling myself, ‘the bugs aren’t real, the bugs aren’t real, the bugs aren’t real,’ over and over again just to make it through the day.

“They’re on you, too, Doc. That’s why I can’t look at you. They’re on your clothes and going in and out of your nose as you stare at me like that. I’m crazy, I know it. I just want to be free of all these bugs. Is there any medicine or anything you can give me to end this torture?”

My therapist says nothing, but keeps a pensive expression. The bugs crawling all over him.

“Look, I’ve finally opened up now! I shared with you, now help me!” I stand up and angrily kick his chair. The body of my therapist falls stiffly to the side. The flies start swarming around the office and some maggots fall off of him as he lays there.

"The bugs aren’t real. The bugs aren’t real. The bugs aren’t real.”


 No.51397

>>51374

Very nice stuff. I didn't notice much wrong with the first one, but I like this much better.


 No.51421

wtf is this gay shit samefagging


 No.51423

>>51374

in general, i would rewrite the last sentence like this, take it with a grain of salt:

“Look. I’ve finally opened up now, and shared it with you, now help me!” I stand up and angrily kick his chair. The body of the therapist falls to the side. Flies start swarming around the office and maggots fall off of him as he just laid there.

"These bugs ain’t real. These bugs ain’t real. These bugs ain’t real.”

ive omitted some determiner, as well as used some venacular to make the last repetition sound a little more natural.

i left out stiffly, it imo hinders the "fear" factor of the last sentence, because it kinda looks funny to me (reminded me of stiffy LOL)

if you want i can try to "fix" the entire piece, if you like my recommendations, regards


 No.51424

cmon fuck it i am so dumb:

“Look, I’ve finally opened up now, and shared with you. Now Answer!” Standing up angrily, I kick his chair. His body falls to the side. Flies start swarming around as maggots are falling off of him. He just laid there.

maybe ill rewrite it again, but i dont wanna spam so


 No.51440

>>51424

It's fine, dont worry about it and keep on.


 No.52660

>>51307

The twist at the end is good don't change it.




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