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Good evening, it’s Spooky Boo coming to you from the lighthouse in Sandcastle, California from Sandcastle’s classic rock radio station KSND, the sound of the sea. Here in Sandcastle, we love a good set of creepy internet stories and that is why I bring you a half-hour of creepy scary stories every Monday through Friday. Saturdays and Sundays I take some time off to enjoy the beaches and the vampire parties. I’m sure you would if you were here, too. They won’t bite you at their parties as long as you’re having fun, but if you’re being a bore then beware because you could be dinner! Before the parties begin on Saturday Night I’m having fun talking to people on YouTube on my channel with a livestream. You’re welcome to visit in the chat room at 7:00 PM Pacific Time. Stop by and say hi. It’s easy to find, just enter www.goddessofthescares.com in your browser. Then at 9 PM Pacific we head on over and watch Creature Features until 11 PM on YouTube then after, the party starts and ends roughly around 9 PM on Sunday which is my fun day at the beach.
But no more boring you with my weekend plans. Tonight I have for you 3 freaky stories about the internet. They might be in the paranormal and they might be just crazy people who find others through the various means of social media. Whatever it is, beware of the friends you make online for one day they might just come to haunt your soul.
Get these stories uncensored and many more on my Patreon page. More details at the end of the show.
Now let’s begin…
Molly Followed You
A Creepypasta Written by J.T. Perkins
This is the end for me. This is really it. Do you ever wish you could go back and erase just one mistake? I know I do. As a matter of fact, I can’t think of anything I want more than to go back to a time before I stepped into this mess and do things differently. I can’t go on like this. Looking over my shoulder all the time. For me, the never-ending nightmare began about eight months ago. I was still living in Florida with my parents at nineteen years old. I decided college wasn’t for me, and I was working for a friend of the family. I was bored one night while home alone so I got on a site called ChatRandom. It’s kinda like Omegle or Chatroulette. You just turn on your webcam and the website will pair you with a random stranger to chat with.
It’s pretty dumb but I was hoping I would maybe end up face to face with a pretty girl. I knew the odds weren’t in my favor but hey, sometimes you get lucky. Pathetic, I know. Anyway, I spent most of my time hitting the next button only to be greeted over and over by some dude. Well, if you’ve ever been on one of these sites… you know how that goes. I’ll spare you the graphic details but I saw more of… that… than anything else and I don’t remember exactly how long I was lying there hitting the next button but eventually I just dozed off and fell asleep in front of the laptop.
I woke up around 9:30. I must have turned over in my sleep because when I opened my eyes I was looking out my bedroom window and I had my back to the laptop which was still sitting open on the nightstand next to my bed. I rubbed my eyes and rolled to face the laptop once again. I opened my eyes and was startled by what I saw. My muscles tightened for a moment and I froze. I found myself face to face with… a girl. On my computer screen, the ChatRandom page was still active and the site had connected me with some girl in the UK.
She sat alone in a dark room, directly in front of her webcam, staring at me and grinning. I’ll never forget that face. As long as I live, I will never forget that face. Red hair, dark eyes, pale skin. I can picture it so vividly… I close my eyes and I still see it. The most unsettling image I have ever seen was burned into my brain that day. That smile, it was almost like it didn’t belong to her face. Her black, soulless eyes studied me, and as I examined the image I could see subtle movement so I knew this wasn’t a freeze frame. She was watching me live on webcam. Those cold eyes followed me as I sat up in bed. She never said a word. She just stared at me. The tiny blue light on my webcam informed me that I was still visible. I quickly closed the browser and shut my laptop.
After the initial shock, a million thoughts began to race through my head and the questions I was left asking myself still haunt me to this day. How long had she been watching me? Why was she just staring at me? What was she smiling for?
I guess that is the difference between horrific and creepy, isn’t it? The horror is in the answers you are forced to see while creepy is the product of unanswered questions. I got up out of bed and took a shower. The incident had creeped me out, to say the least, but I did my best to shake it off and get her face out of my head. I remember being afraid to close my eyes in the shower because I had creeped myself out even further with the thought that I might open my eyes and see her face if I did, so I didn’t wash my face or hair.
Sometimes my imagination gets rolling and I wind up scaring myself more than any horror movie could hope to. By that night, I had put the scare out of mind and was happily distracted by video games with friends. Mike, Trevor, Marshall and I had spent the evening hanging out, watching vines and playing video games. My parents, who were out of town for the week, called to see how things were going and after that I logged onto Twitter while the guys continued gaming.
A message notified me that I had one new follower. I don’t have many followers on Twitter so I was interested to see who “@2prettymolly” could be. Maybe a girl from school? It wasn’t a girl from school. No… No but I knew the face in the profile picture. It was the girl from ChatRandom. The exact same, sinister smirk I was greeted by that very morning was still plastered on her face. I jumped back in my rolling chair with a gasp as I covered my mouth in disbelief. Trevor asked me if I was alright but all I could do was shake my head and say, “There’s no way,” over and over again. I couldn’t believe… I didn’t want to believe that this was really happening. I felt like I was going to throw up and I remember I was trembling. Trevor said I looked like I had seen a ghost.
The guys came over to see what I was looking at and that’s when I told them what had happened that morning. I think they were all pretty disturbed by my account but they quickly resorted to joking about it, I guess, in an attempt to offer some comic relief and break the tension in the room. We were all creeped out, but for me, there was no comfort to be found in their “psycho ex-girlfriend” remarks. Mike suggested a reverse image search to see if her profile picture had been taken from somewhere else online, but the search yielded no results.
Questions flooded my mind as I stared, dumbfounded, at her profile page. Why doesn’t she follow anyone else on Twitter? Is this a new Twitter account? When did she… How did she find me? Does she have some sort of facial recognition software? How did she even know where to begin looking? Was there some clue as to my identity visible on camera in my room this morning? I mean, who knows how long she was watching me there in my room?
My friends tried to get my mind off of it but it was no use. We hung out for a bit longer but eventually they all went home and I was left alone with that face on my computer screen. I couldn’t sleep. I sat on the couch watching TV. My laptop sat open on the table in front of me. My imagination had paralyzed me… I was paralyzed by fear. I got it in my head that if I opened the blinds and looked out the living room window, I would see her standing there. I wanted so badly to open those blinds and make this frightening thought disappear but I couldn’t. I knew it was a ridiculous idea and I tried to tell myself that, whoever she was, she was across the ocean in the UK somewhere and she couldn’t hurt me. “I’m safe here,” I told myself. “She can’t find me.”
By 2:00 AM, I wasn’t even paying attention to the TV anymore. I guess I just needed it for the background noise. As if in a trance, I watched lions rip antelopes to shreds on the Discovery Channel and sipped on an energy drink.
The trance was broken by a loud crashing sound coming from the direction of the kitchen.
I jumped like ten feet and immediately grabbed the nearest hard object, which I am pretty sure was a scented candle jar. I moved to the corner of the room furthest from the kitchen and crouched, weapon in hand, and watched the kitchen doorway. I was sweating profusely and trying to breathe as quietly as possible. I was huddled in that corner for a couple minutes until… My cat came strolling casually through the doorway. Stupid cat must have knocked over the pile of dishes in the sink. I’m fairly sure I cursed him out before eventually putting the jar back on the coffee table and returning to my seat on the couch.
When I sat down, I noticed that “Molly” had tweeted at me. I reluctantly clicked on the notification, hoping and praying that somehow this tweet would explain away my fears. I thought I might be able to get some answers that would put my mind at ease. The page loaded. The tweet read:
“:) I love your cat.”
My eyes widened and I could feel my heart racing. There was a picture attached to the tweet. The image was a close up of her head, she was smiling, and holding something up to her face. A cat, she was holding a cat that looked an awful lot like mine. I felt my stomach drop and I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest. I was afraid to look around me. Was she in the house? I couldn’t believe this was happening. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I’ve never been so scared and I knew I had to move, but it was as though I was stuck.
It took all the willpower I could muster to force myself up off the couch and I bolted straight for the front door. I ran to my car, reached the driver’s side door and realized much to my dismay that I had left the car keys on the kitchen counter. I was panicking and breathing heavily, looking around frantically in all directions for any sign of her. I looked back at the house, my eyes darting from window to window. I took to the streets and made a mad dash for the well lit area across from the entrance to my neighborhood. I didn’t have any plan or clear idea about what I must have looked like at that moment. I had no clue what was supposed to happen next but I just needed to get some place public.
Eventually, after calling Trevor, who managed to calm me down a bit, I went to the police and explained what had happened. They went to my house to check things out. The house was in perfect order. There were no signs of forced entry. My cat was still there and perfectly fine, as far as they could tell. They eventually made it clear to me that their part in this story was over, and that there was nothing more they could do. I was angry about that at the time but, looking back on it, what more could I expect them to do?
There were no reports of suspicious activity in the area, there was no evidence indicating my home had been broken into, no evidence of any crime whatsoever, and, on top of that, the only person who could be called a suspect was supposedly on a different continent. And yes, I showed them the picture of the girl with the cat but they made the point that it could have easily been another cat and the poor quality of the image made it hard to pick out any distinct features on the cat she was holding. And yes, I told them about the suspicious circumstances of the eerily-timed tweet, but one of the officers I spoke with theorized that the timing of the tweet was coincidental. He suggested that perhaps this girl saw my cat on camera before I woke up or in a Twitter picture and wanted to show me that she had a similar looking cat. I, of course, didn’t buy that theory at all. But, again, what more could I expect the officer to do with literally zero evidence of any actual crime?
As creepy and as awkward as it is to watch a stranger sleep, I had voluntarily accessed the website and, in doing so, agreed to allow the website access to my webcam. Although the officer admitted he wasn’t sure how she found me on Twitter, he still maintained he had no evidence whatsoever that any crime was committed and all he was really willing to do at that point was give me a lecture about being safe on the internet. Like I was a child or something.
I dropped it though, because, after the feeling of utter terror had subsided, I became self-aware once again and realized how this might look to a cop. Since my own parents, after they returned home and I told them this story, asked me if I had been using any drugs, I guess I was right about how crazy I must have sounded.
I deleted my Twitter account, moved into an apartment with my buddy Mike and I never went on one of those random chat sites again. I also never heard from Molly again. Until today. Today, I received an e-mail from an address I did not recognize with the subject line, “I’d follow you anywhere.”
The e-mail contained only one sentence, “You are so beautiful :)”
And it was signed, “Your Molly, Forever.” Attached to the e-mail was a picture. In the image, you can clearly see a woman’s hand gently pulling back a shower curtain… just enough for the camera to peer into the shower. It was my shower. Standing under the showerhead was a man with his back to the camera. The picture was of me… Washing my hair.
MyFace
A Creepypasta
I am having difficulty writing this. Do you understand the meaning of fear? According to the Webster Dictionary, fear is defined as: a feeling of distress, apprehension, or alarm, caused by impending danger, pain, etc.
I do not believe this accurately describes the feelings of shear horror I experienced back when I had a MySpace, before there was Facebook. It all started out during the summer after my Sophomore year in high school. You know how it is, when all of that pent up stress the day that school is let out.
It is like fireworks going off inside of your chest, your mind, everything. It is a high you only experience in high school. As I look back now, I wish that my parents had never given me a laptop. I wish that I had never even signed up for MySpace, even though all of my friends had one.
It was mid-July when the events first took place. I had, predictably, woken up at 1 PM, and logged on to my MySpace. I rolled my eyes at the Vanity Train pages… morons. Sure, I will admit, I occasionally perused the Vanity pages, but only for the amusement of the overly done photoshopped images of the scene kids at my high school, who looked like completely and utter douches.
I clicked off of MySpace to check my Yahoo email. Afterwards, I decided to go back onto MySpace; that was where I made my mistake. Still being tired, I accidentally typed in Myface.
It looked exactly like MySpace. I did not notice anything off. I did not even notice that I had typed in the wrong web address. I typed in my user name and password. However, there was something off about my profile; it was my profile picture. My eyes looked slightly off. When I blinked, they were back to normal. Suddenly, a message popped up.
Anonymous: Hello, Lucy…
Lucy: Uh… Hi…
Anonymous: So, what are you up to?
Lucy: Who is this?
Anonymous: A friend.
Lucy: Riiiiight, later creeper.
I logged off. What the hell was that about? I closed my laptop, and for the rest of the day, the odd conversation slipped from my mind. Later that night I went, accidentally, onto Myface again.
For some reason I felt like I was being watched. Another message popped up.
Anonymous2: Hello Lucy, wanna see something cool?
Lucy: No. Fuck off, whoever this is.
A video message appeared. What I saw in it would scar me for life.
In the video was a girl who looked very similar to me. In fact, she looked exactly like me. The time stamp on it showed that it was live. The girl was tied to a chair, and she was being tortured.
She was systematically raped by a few different masked men. Afterwards, they slowly began to pull out all of her teeth with pliers. Then, they slit her stomach open, collar bone to pelvic bone. That was when I began to vomit.
Anonymous2: Do you like it?
As I stared at my laptop’s screen, that was when I noticed the Myface. After that incident, I cancelled my MySpace account and threw away my laptop. I even tried to commit suicide. It was only recently that I started using my computer again.
I am still very paranoid about going onto websites especially ones like this. I do not even have a Facebook. I spent years being home schooled, because I was afraid to go outside. I was afraid that somewhere, out there, an Anonymous1 or Anonymous2 knew where I lived… knew that I existed in some way… that I was not just a ghostly girl on the internet, like I was before.
I am still paranoid.
I do not think it will ever go away.
Chatroom 98
A Creepypasta
Umm… hi. I am currently in a bed, inside St. Anne’s Hospital in North London. Dr. Martin kindly allowed me to use his laptop, so I can explain how I got here, and what happened to me.
My name is David Argento, I am 16 years old, and… apparently I am suffering from a mental illness of some kind.
There was only so much I could take in from the doctor’s words in the opposite patient room, since I have a bloody massive headache.
I’ve been given a fair amount of Ibuprofen, but this headache seems permanent. But I don’t care… I absolutely must get this written down at all costs. Anyways, you might be wondering how I got here. Here is my story:
About four nights ago, I went upstairs to the loft and took my old schoolbooks to the burning pile. I just finished my G.C.S.Es, and like all my friends, hated every single subject I did. Math, History, English – especially English. You name it, I really hated it. So I found the books exactly where I left them a few months back (or dumped, more like) in a corner that was so old, there was enough dust to make a candy floss (cotton-candy).
I scorned the moment I looked at them again, except I knew this would be the last time I’d have to look at them. So I collected them all underneath one arm. Disgusting. I considered changing clothes shortly afterwards.
But then, something caught my eye. I’m not really sure how I noticed it, but I remember being so intrigued by it that I dropped the books on the loft floor and picked it up. It was a red CD-ROM case, about the size of the average book. There were no words of any kind, even when I turned it over on the other side, sod all. I was kind of excited, it looked like a computer game that the previous house owners had left behind. Since I absolutely loved computers at the time, I was interested in giving it a go on my Dell.
But when I opened the case, the disc inside lacked any kind of artistic illustrations, instead just a bland, white colour with some text written on it in black marker pen. The words were: “CHATROOM 98”. I wasn’t exactly pleased when I learned it wasn’t a game, but since someone had actually went through the effort of making a CHATROOM disc, rather than the vast chatrooms available on the internet, I concluded it would be somehow different. That, I got right.
Having kicked the worthless books down the attic ladder, I inserted the disc inside my old laptop. After a brief moment, a red box with no text in it appeared. I wasn’t sure what to make of it at first, but it seemed to linger there for half a minute. Then, the screen went black for a brief moment, and flashed. The words “Welcome to CHATROOM 98” appeared at the top centre of the screen. Chatroom 98? What was the significance of that number? Then, what appeared to be a white text box opened up in the centre. I didn’t know what to type, so I randomly put: “Hello.”
I didn’t expect any kind of response but then I got one. A person by the name of DARWYN CLARKE replied “Good Afternoon.”
There was no possible way that this person was real, it seemed like I was the only possessor of this CHATROOM disc. Then I realized it was one of those Chatbots; a software designed to stimulate an intelligent conversation with whoever talks to it. ICT was the only thing that I was good at.
I still thought it was strange, though. I’d only lived in my current house for 6 years, but I had never encountered that red box in my entire life. I suppose the houses’ previous owners must have owned it. But it’s not like they owned a computer – unless you count the smashed to pieces one that we threw away to the dump when we first arrived. Anyway, I tried to start a conversation, to see to what extent the A.I. had been programmed.
“Lovely weather we’re having,” I wrote. No sooner than three seconds, Mr. Clarke replied, “No, it seems rather miserable today.” I was taken aback. The weather was, more or less, exactly how he put it. I didn’t know either, until I looked out the window, and saw that it was about to rain.
It seemed the books had one more day to live. But I wasn’t too surprised; the Chatbot was probably programmed to say that, and since this is England I live in, it could have been more than likely. I then typed in,
“So what are your favourite movies?” Again, I got a response, “I don’t watch movies. I prefer the theater.” The theater? Was I talking to an old man?
I replied, “How old are you?”
I didn’t care if the bot got offended, it would have to give me an answer eventually. The answer was, “I’ll tell you about myself. I was born in 1867, and grew up with two sisters, whom I hated.” Okay, right, whoever programmed this was clearly having a laugh. I typed back, laughing hysterically as I wrote,
“Well I was born in 2098, with two identical twin brothers who are also aliens from the planet Boogaloo. I am also Jesus.” I wondered what the senile old man would say next; I knew it was a chatbot, but I kept thinking it was a real person for some unexplainable reason. He said, “Really? How droll. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jesus. Have your brothers abducted anyone yet?”
I cracked up again; whoever made this must have done an impressive job. I typed in, “Yes, they are actually alien pedophiles, who prey on human children. You’d better watch out, they also have a fetish for CD-ROMS!”
The next reply was just plain unsettling. Clarke replied, “Well, although I may appear to be a CD-ROM, I was actually a human myself. Once. Until I faced judgement for my transgressions. ”
I didn’t know what the fuck he was saying, but the poignant detail of his description startled me for a second. It felt…real. Too real. And then, to my surprise, he typed another message:
“You don’t understand? Let me make myself plain. My sisters, whom I hated, met with a tragic accident.”
I was starting to feel cold. This was not just a chatbot. This must have been a psycho chatbot, or something. Or it was a big joke. I typed in, to see his reaction: “Do you know what else my brothers have done, lately?”. And then, I was met with the biggest surprise of all. Darwyn Clarke responded again, only this time: I could see his message being typed, like a ticker tape typewriter. “You are an only child, David.”
What the actual fuck? I was seriously getting creeped out now, so I typed in “What the fuck are you?” And the response simply couldn’t have been made by A.I. It seemed too much like a human was actually talking to me.
“LET ME TELL YOU A STORY. DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HOUSE’S PREVIOUS OWNERS?”
I sat there like an idiot, staring at the computer, awaiting a response.
“THE SAME THAT HAPPENED TO MY TWO SISTERS. REMEMBER, I DESPISED BOTH OF THEM.”
That was it. I moved the cursor to the top right corner to click the cross button, and end this nightmare. I was relieved. I had only been talking to it for five minutes, but it seemed like two hours. But when I tried to shut down the P.C, the unthinkable happened.
The computer became unresponsive. It went all glitched and fucked up. Worse still, the chatroom opened by itself! I got another message, and by this time I was sure to be hallucinating by now.
“YOU HAVE NOT HEARD EVERYTHING YET.”
I scrambled at the keyboard, I was losing my mind. “Are you fucking with my computer? STOP!!! This is seriously not funny!”
Finally, I think this is where it happened. Darwyn Clarke typed in again, this time in a much slower ticker tape typewriting fashion than last time. I could hear nothing more than my own heartbeat. It intensified more and more, with each passing letter. My face was practically melting with sweat.
As I focused more and more on the letters as they were being typed: the horrified expression on my face would have become so visible, I think I remember seeing it in the reflection of my laptop. The final message that he gave me, which lost me my sanity and ruined my health was: “LOOK BEHIND YOU.”
I remember feeling as if everything around me was slowing down. I really was worried. Part of me knew that there would be something behind, and a smaller part tried to assure me that there was nothing there. I shut my eyes, and clenched my teeth violently together, then shot my head back like a bullet. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I spat out a weak laughter, and nodded my head in relief, and I felt like everything was safe again. Until I looked back to my computer monitor. I must have seen it the moment I swiveled my chair, but it caught me anyway.
There was a face. A FUCKING FACE of a man. A FUCKING PALE, WHITE MAN, who was grinning at me, on my laptop screen. His hair was blonde, and he seemed to be in his mid-twenties, but his facial expression was the exact opposite of friendly, his eyes were crimson red.
I only saw it for a nanosecond of a nanosecond, but that was all I could take. After that, apparently I screamed violently, and then fell unconscious for 4 hours. That’s what Dr. Martin told me. He’s the guy looking after me at the moment. He really doesn’t know what I’ve been through.
So, here I am now, sitting in a bed at 4:30 A.M, typing this story to the world. Even as I type I still worry that the face will appear once again and scare the shit out of me. I seemed to be suffering from a trauma. My eyes have grown dark purple circles around them, because I have literally not slept at all since the incident. I tried sleeping, but that face… that face stops me from sleeping.
Now that I have written this story, I urge everybody to watch out. If you see a red CD-ROM case, throw it away. Do not open it and do not use it. I am now going to jump out a third story window. I can’t take this anymore. I am fucking scared. I want to die now! If anyone tries to resuscitate me, then fuck you too. And do NOT, I repeat, do NOT go looking for Darwyn Clarke. He may or may not be real, but he can drive you insane.
You have read this message.
DO NOT LOOK FOR DARWYN CLARKE.
IF YOU FIND HIM, YOU WILL LOSE YOUR MIND!
