The contents of the following remain unedited by myself or any third party.

My Internet Service Provider used to have offices in a shopping center before they moved to their (comparatively) lush accommodations elsewhere. There was a drop box at that original location. The monthly bill was due, and thus, there but for the Grace of the Net I went.

It was about 9:30 p.m. when I left. From my relatively isolated apartments, it's about 10-15 minutes or so to downtown (Abilene has a population of about 110,000).

Right next to Camalott Communications' old location is a $1.50 movie theater. At the time, the place was featuring that masterwork of modern film, Mortal Kombat. I drove by the theater on the way into the center proper and pulled into an empty parking space.

Using the glow of the marquee to write out my check, I was startled to hear a knock on the driver's-side window of my car.

I looked over and saw two children staring at me from street. I need to describe them, with the one feature (you can guess what it was) that I didn't realize until about half-way through the conversation cleverly omitted.

Both appeared to be in that semi-mystical stage of life children get into where you can't exactly tell their age. Both were boys, and my initial impression is that they were somewhere between 10-14.

This probably won't catch on but still, /para/bles , we should rename creepy pasta /para/bles.

Obligatory /para/ble:

There's a small, inconspicious building called "Padraic Willoughsby and Co." in the industrial district of Birmingham, UK. Most of the time, its doors are locked and the windows are draped. However, on February 29th of every leap year, there will be a small plastic container outside the front door containing business cards. On the front of the card it says in large capital letters, "PADRAIC WILLOUGHSBY AND CO. ENGLAND'S THAUMATURGICAL SPECIALISTS". On the back, in nearly inelligibly small type it says "The blood of the innocent."

Any night after midnight one can come to Paidraic Willoughsby and Co. and slide their card through the door, and the door will instantly unlock. Inside there is an empty room with white walls. No light reaches this room, except for a small sliver from the other end of the room. When you approach this room you will find that it is actually another door. When you knock on it, a voice will ask "What makes a man become exalted?" and you must respond with the phrase on the back of the card: "The blood of the innocent." The door will open and you will come into another room, a kind of lounge. Inside it you will find around 5-10 people, depending on the night, sitting around smoking and drinking brandy, all in late Edwardian period dress. There is absolutely no conversation at all in this room and, it is nearly silent except for the phonograph which plays the exact same record over and over, ad infinitum. If you attempt to speak to one of the patrons, they will promptly ignore you and pretend as if you were not there.

Towards the south wing of the room you will find a large, round table, slightly different from the others. On it will be a quill pen and a document. The document shows all of your personal information: name, birth date, place of residence, criminal record, greatest fears, etc. At the bottom of the document is a long line that asks for your signature. No one knows what happens after you sign it.

He was a cowboy, mister, and he loved the land. He loved it so much he made a woman out of dirt and married her. But when he kissed her, she disintegrated. Later, at the funeral, when the preacher said, "Dust to dust," some people laughed, and the cowboy shot them. At his hanging, he told the others, "I'll be waiting for you in heaven--with a gun."

the 4th visit. We went with a very large group, maybe 18 people or more. We were going to load up the story with bullshit to scare some friends of friends, and stage some horrifying antics. We had the photos to back it up, and the acting talent to blow the minds of these fucking kids.

We were psyched, and not prepared for anything scary - we expected more of the same.

Well it felt darker than normal, and heavier than normal. The whole experience was immediately displacing, which we attributed to the usual and talked up, so we thought it was our own placebo hype of what we were doing to these kids. Well, we didn't need to act for long.

after only a few seconds of exploring... well, remember that ominous lack of windows on the first floor I mentioned? the windows were fucking there. Complete with a seperate fuckign room that just fuckign appeared there for no reason. I absolutely swear to god, this room was not covered, or somehow hidden - it wasn't fucking there until this day. It was just not there before. We were instantly disturbed, and a few of the "vets" bolted. I am definately one of the most calm and level headed people there, and I thrive on the terror... but I was truly awestruck. I didn't know how to react. And trust me, true heartfelt terror and giddyness dont' mix well.

I entered the room. I immediately noticed, in the spirit of cliches, a deep drop in temperature and pressure. My woman, who is very sensitive to pressure changes, couldn't handle the inside of the room. It was a very big change.
There was very little fire damage compared to the rest of the building (the hotel burned down... twice) and most of the build in furniture was intact - complete with the sink still having some piping intact.
And the room was so dark, so ominous... I don't know where that room came from. I've toyed with the idea of sleeping in it alone or with one other, but I absolutely do not want to comfront going where it came from... and waiting to come back. It may be unavoidable, but I'd like to avoid finally catching that terror I crave so much... only for it to cost me my life.

I entered the room. I immediately noticed, in the spirit of cliches, a deep drop in temperature and pressure. My woman, who is very sensitive to pressure changes, couldn't handle the inside of the room. It was a very big change.
There was very little fire damage compared to the rest of the building (the hotel burned down... twice) and most of the build in furniture was intact - complete with the sink still having some piping intact.
And the room was so dark, so ominous... I don't know where that room came from. I've toyed with the idea of sleeping in it alone or with one other, but I absolutely do not want to comfront going where it came from... and waiting to come back. It may be unavoidable, but I'd like to avoid finally catching that terror I crave so much... only for it to cost me my life.

Quiet. Everything was quite outside the door. Inching to the door I leaned my ear near and listened, holding my breath.

Silence, absolute silence, but not the kind one takes pleasure in. it was the taut, unnerving silence heard between the hunted and the hunter. I wiped my hands one at a time, as they were sweating so bad I couldn’t get a decent grip.

My guts were doing a nervous tango, twisting around so bad I had to take a leak. Fuck. Of all the times for nature to call....

Slowly I set the toilet stand down, yanked down my boxers, and tried to piss as quiet as I could in the sink. Yeah, like you’d wear pants whilst at home relaxing. Or maybe you would, but never mind.
I don’t want to know.

Finished, I glanced around for the toilet paper, but oh right I set it someplace because I needed the stand to bludgeon some monster to death. Completely forget about that.

And what a way to die! In your boxers, piss in the sink, with the door torn down by some unnatural animal. No, fuck that, I wasn’t going to die just yet.

I’ll die like a man, albeit a half naked man in boxers. Holding a toilet stand, of course.

I picked up the stand again, in my right hand, and reached out for the doorknob. It wasn’t there. I swung my hand to the right, then left, finally hitting it about a foot from where I thought it’d be.

I pause, I wait, I listen at the door for some hint. Maybe it was gone. Maybe I was just freaking out for nothing.
A bit of hope creeps into me, and I temporarily relax.
Then at the bottom of the door I hear whuffing and sniffing like a dog. Somehow I doubted it was a dog.
It growled, a loud sound in the stillness, claws scratching at the bottom of the door, somehow reaching under and pulling until the wood started to crack and break.