Creepypasta

Genetic Memory

Many classic horror icons, such as Geger’s xenomorphs, Silent Hill’s Pyramid Head, and other disturbing creatures, share common characteristics. Pale skin, dark, sunken eyes, elongated faces, sharp teeth, and the like. These images inspire horror and revulsion in many, and with good reason. The characteristics shared by these faces are imprinted in the human mind.

Many things frighten humans instinctively. The fear is natural, and does not need to be reinforced in order to terrify. The fears are species-wide, stemming from dark times in the past when lightning could mean the burning of your tree home, thunder could be the approaching gallops of a stampede, predators could hide in darkness, and heights could make poor footing lethal.

The question you have to ask yourself is this:

What happened, deep in the hidden eras before history began, that could effect the entire human race so evenly as to give the entire species a deep, instinctual, and lasting fear of pale beings with dark, sunken eyes, razor sharp teeth, and elongated faces?

… Just be careful out there.

There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning.

As he looked around the inside of the cabin, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by several portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred and malice. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.

The next morning, the hunter awoke — he turned, blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.

Doppelganger

Legend has it that if you come face to face with your doppelganger, it’s an omen or warning of death — for both you and your twin. Because of this, if you see a replica of yourself, run for your life. If you keep seeing your doppelganger, chances are that your days are numbered, because you’ll soon see your demise.

There are many stories regarding encounters with doppelgangers, none of them pleasant. Often, a person does not actually see their own doppelganger, but someone else does. Can you be two places at once? No, but it’s a very strange feeling when someone who knows you very well insists that they saw you just thirty minutes ago — and you were nowhere in the vicinity. Imagine this happening time and time again and you’ll soon go insane.

Hence, the myth that a doppelganger will precede the arrival of the real person. Many stories explaining their experiences with these apparitions have this in common. Perhaps he’s one step ahead of you?

I have no way of verifying what I’m about to tell you. It didn’t happen to me. It happened to someone I know. Since this is the case, there’s a good chance you’ll read this believing it’s not true. Maybe you’ll tell yourself that to feel better. You can do that easily. You didn’t see the sincerity of the terror in her eyes when she told me what happened. You didn’t have to urge her to finish when she was stammering too much to continue. You weren’t there to feel her fear as your own. If you had, you would know as well as I do that this is perfectly true.

—-

My friend goes to college in Upstate New York. She’s into hiking and camping and what not. She likes to go camping alone in the mountains, to commune with nature or something. Usually, she’ll go for the entire weekend, heading out after her classes on Friday, and not returning until Sunday afternoon. She rarely takes people with her, preferring to experience the beauty of the land in solitude.

That is, she used to do all that. She stopped after the last time she went. The time when it happened.

It was late Fall last year. She went out in the mountains, per the usual. She brought along a pair of disposable cameras, which she used to take pictures of the wildlife and the trees and the landscapes and all the other wonderful things you can see in Upstate New York. For the entire time she was out there, she didn’t meet a single other human being, not even finding evidence of past campsites. In other words, she spent the weekend in unparalleled isolation.

On Sunday, she returned to civilization, feeling refreshed. She dropped off the pictures to be developed- she had used up all the film on the trip- and went about daily life. On Tuesday, she retrieved her photographs from the developer.

She took them back to her dorm to leaf through them. There were pictures of deer, of trees, of sunrises, all the ones she’d taken. But about halfway through, she found something that puzzled her.

She held a picture of a girl sleeping in tent, taken from above, as though the photographer were leaning over the slumbering figure. The flash illuminated the girl’s face, making it terribly clear who was in the picture. It was herself.

As her initial confusion ebbed, she felt terror filling in the gaps it left behind. She leafed through the remaining pictures rapidly, but they were all ones she had taken, all landscapes and beauty and wildlife.

She spent forever staring at that picture, trying to concoct some explanation that didn’t terrify her, but she couldn’t. Worse yet, if she looked at the picture closely enough, she could see something just behind her back, cast in shadow and out of focus. Something twisted. Something strange. Something like a hand reaching out.