“A baby’s laughter is one of the most beautiful sounds you’ll ever hear. Unless it’s 3am. And you’re home alone. And you don’t have a baby.”
– Will Ferrell
Can you remember your very first fright?
That moment when the world introduced you to its shadowlands.
Was it a real experience or an imaginary one which seemed real?
Was it a nightmare from which you awoke screaming.
A scary tale which haunted you like a presence, followed you around, you could hear its creeping footsteps, feel its breath brush the hairs on your neck, but every time you turned around there was nothing there.
A sudden awareness of mortality.
A sound in the dark.
An incident of feeling lost and alone.
“A woman was up late at night, just minding her own business and browsing the Internet in her living room, when she heard the sound of a baby crying outside her doorstep. She got up and went to investigate the noise, but could see nothing through the keyhole. Understandably, she found it odd that a baby would be crying outside her suburban home, especially so late at night. Not sure what to do, she decided to just call the police. She told them that she was considering opening the door to check on the baby because she had heard the crying near her window and was afraid that the baby might crawl into the street.
Practically shouting, the dispatcher told her that under absolutely no circumstances should she open the door, and that they already had police on their way to her house. When they got there, the police found no baby or any evidence that a child had been nearby at all. The policemen informed the worried homeowner that they had received multiple calls like this lately, and that they believed it to be the work of people who were trying to trick women into opening their homes using a recording of a crying child.”
Fears can give us chills,
make us want to run and hide,
they can give us thrills,
make us seek them out,
playing chicken with ourselves,
testing our mettle as we face what terrifies.
Online there is a genre of stories known as Creepypasta…
“a creepypasta is a short story posted on the Internet that is designed to unnerve and shock the reader.”
These stories are sometimes fun and funny,
creative and clever,
spawning characters which have have a dedicated fanbase,
occasionally reading them hits a nerve that sends shivers through the body,
both thrilling and chilling,
you want more but also wish you didn’t want more.
“The event I am about to relay to you is true in its entirety, this I swear. I feel certain that this will fall on deaf ears and many of you will believe this to be just another spooky story meant to give you cheap thrills, but I promise you that this is neither my intent nor my purpose. The purpose of this story is to simply warn you of what lurks beyond the veil of what we can see and understand; to show you what awaits us in the darkness. Even if I myself don’t understand it.
What I am about to tell you has happened, and I feel certain it will happen again.”
- to read the rest of the story, please go to – The Harbinger Experiment
Of all the creepypasta stories which I’ve read,
often late at night with all the lights off in a silent house,
laughing sometimes to alleviate fear aroused,
I would have to admit that nothing creeps me out more,
than the way advertising uses our fears to sell us products,
and businesses capitalise by scaring us with tales of impending doom,
then offering us protection from that doom at a price.
Surely we would sell our souls to be safe and secure.
“The principles underlying propaganda are extremely simple. Find some common desire, some widespread unconscious fear or anxiety; think out some way to relate this wish or fear to the product you have to sell; then build a bridge of verbal or pictorial symbols over which your customer can pass from fact to compensatory dream, and from the dream to the illusion that your product, when purchased, will make the dream come true. They are selling hope.
We no longer buy oranges, we buy vitality. We do not just buy an auto, we buy prestige. And so with all the rest. In toothpaste, for example, we buy not a mere cleanser and antiseptic, but release from the fear of being sexually repulsive. In vodka and whisky we are not buying a protoplasmic poison which in small doses, may depress the nervous system in a psychologically valuable way; we are buying friendliness and good fellowship, the warmth of Dingley Dell and the brilliance of the Mermaid Tavern. With our laxatives we buy the health of a Greek god. With the monthly best seller we acquire culture, the envy of our less literate neighbors and the respect of the sophisticated. In every case the motivation analyst has found some deep-seated wish or fear, whose energy can be used to move the customer to part with cash and so, indirectly, to turn the wheels of industry.”
― Aldous Huxley
Now that’s creepy pasta!