Creepypasta Stories

Books by LovelessKoi

-Slight cursing and slight gore ahead-

I'm frightened. So fucking frightened of something so utterly silly that if I had told anybody that they would've promptly laughed at me. Please, God please believe me when I tell you that I'm not making this shit up. When frightening things happen, it doesn't just take a hit off your cigarette or a swig of whiskey to make it flee. My mother used to tell me that talking about bad things made them go away. So I guess I better start talking.

My name is Simon, Simon Willshire. One with such a name wouldn't be thought as one to have many friends, right? Very true in fact. I've been alone, relationship and friendship-wise, for as long as I can remember. The only true friends I had were my mother and father. This was a pathetic life but an easy one to live. Sometimes, I miss it.

It was on my fifteenth birthday when I began to read books. My grandmother had bought me a large book, the gold text on its broad cover inviting me to explore its beautiful secrets within. At first, I denied the gift and attempted to make friends when I started my sophomore year. Eventually, I gave up and picked up the book. That's when I began to make new friends. Well, not real ones.

Characters I adored from different books was brought to life when I read the magical words that danced upon their pages. They followed me through the halls of my school, making all the unimportant people disappear into the background. Call it odd or silly but I never felt alone when I had them. My imaginary friends.

My parents were at first reluctant with me spending all of my free time reading but when they saw that I was happy, they brought me more and more books. I could drown myself in the words if I shook them out of their pages. Happiness was a rare thing for me so it pleasing when the books brought plenty of it. I wanted to spend all of my time, all of my life just reading.

By the time I was seventeen, my imaginary friends had tripled since my first book. I counted fifty-seven of them, fifty-seven different souls with no relation to one another. They kept me sane, happy and feeling alive as I started working at my first job. Can you guess where? At a bookshop of course!

The shopkeeper adored me, seeing my true adoration for books, and let me run the store when he had to run errands. Although we had little customers and I was paid a small wage of ten dollars an hour, I was at peace. Things were going well with my parents, my job, and my imaginary social life. I had it all, now that I think it over again.

I don't know why or what possessed me to look in the back room but I did. Good God, why did I look in there? Curiosity is a crude, horrid thing to hold but when one is naïve, one has no fear. And at that moment I had no fear in my heart.

The dust clogged my senses when I stepped into the back room but I was used to it in a matter of seconds. I could see that there wasn't much in here but a couple of older books that didn't make the cut or were too worn out to sell. As I walked into the room, my fingers lingering on the book-covers, my eyes scanned the shelves. I stopped in front of one, in particular, one that stood out in an eerie way.

Now I don't want to bore you with all the details on how magnificent the book looked. But the way it pulled me in with the glossy cover felt disturbing. Almost disturbing enough to make me want to run out of the room and go back to my post. That wasn't the case though.

I picked up the massive book and peeked inside to discover that the pages were blank. Feeling a bit disappointed and foolish for being frightened by a blank book, I checked the book for a title. There was nothing but a gorgeous sketch of an eagle head on the front. Its eyes were mysterious as if holding in a secret.

The decision to keep the book was swift and extremely idiotic of me. I was no writer and there was nothing to read on its pages. What could I possibly gain from stealing this old book from the kind shop-keeper? I would take the blame but they, my "friends", told me that it would be nice to keep. I agreed with them, they were never wrong.