Kontaktiere Zero creepypasta im Messenger. Highlights info row image. Fiktiver Charakter. SeitentransparenzMehr ansehen. Facebook möchte mit diesen. Mit Channel Zero startet auf TNT Serie eine neue Serie, deren Geschichten auf Creepypasta beruhen. Heute startet die 1. Staffel mit Candle. [Mᴀʟᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇʀs] You are male. You may or may not believe in Creepypasta. Meanwhile, someone watches you from afar. Aren't you even slightly curious.
Channel Zero: Keine 5. Staffel für die Creepypasta-Anthologie[Mᴀʟᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇʀs] You are male. You may or may not believe in Creepypasta. Meanwhile, someone watches you from afar. Aren't you even slightly curious. Read Zero from the story Die Creepypastas und ihre Geschichten by tonii_ with reads. deutsch, vorgeschichten, urbanlegenden. Name: Alice. - Erkunde Angels Pinnwand „Creepypasta - Zero“ auf Pinterest. Weitere Ideen zu creepypasta charaktere, the puppeteer creepypasta, gruselige.
Zero Creepypasta Creepypasta Video\
Als Przedenzfall Tiefer Abgrund hier die Abmahnung von Redtube-Nutzern, Zero Creepypasta aber Johnny Depp News die feine Englische Art. - Die Creepypastas und ihre GeschichtenIn der Serie untersucht nun der Kinderpsychologe Mike Painter Paul Schneider das Verschwinden von mehreren Kindern in den er Jahren, die mit dieser Show verbunden sind, denn Candle Cove ist Winter Kommt nur eine Serie. Zero. Una chica joven con el pelo de color caramelo y ojos verdes se sentó en su jardín delantero. El sol caliente del verano caía sobre su pálida piel cubierta de moretones. Pensar que esta dulce joven fue violentamente golpeada por sus compañeros apenas unas horas antes. Alice, ese era su nombre. Z nich wszystkich był jeden, który w szczególności się wyróżniał, miała na imię Zero. Była to pierwsza przyjaciółka Alice, stworzona w celu ochrony jej przed jej oprawcami. Ilekroć będą dokuczać lub fizycznie się nad nią znęcać, Zero miała się nimi zająć. Creepypasta is a popular subgenre of copypasta which consists of short horror fictions and urban inspiredofspirit.com was created to scare the reader/audience. Also see. Tags. The Slender Man Character 75; Jeff the Killer Character 66; Eyeless Jack Character 19; BEN Drowned Character 17; Hasshaku-sama Character 15; Liu (Creepypasta) Character
Fisch is already pulling out his piece again as he moves back into the hallway. As we edge around the corner to the main floor, I can see Bev sitting against the far wall.
Garrett is face-up in the middle of the room, his blood pooling around a zip-tied woman beside him.
The sound drives me to my knees, clutching my ears. Fischer falls next to me, his head bouncing off the marble floor. I look around and see Ryan coming out from behind the shattered glass door.
Out of my left ear, I can hear Bev screaming something. I reach back for my gun and-. A few of the trussed people whimpered, and Mark slumped over next to Fischer.
She was grunting in pain and anger, reaching for her gun, as Ryan came across the room and shot her through the top of the head. The room was silent after that.
Andrew Ryan pulled a handheld radio from his belt. You hear a slight sound of movement. As you analyze your surroundings, you feel as if something is off.
You make your way across the room, extremely anxious after the noise. As you reach the other side of the room, you realize two things.
First, the droning noise has stopped. Secondly, the old couch has gone missing. These two things are enough to make you afraid.
As you quickly turn to the hallway that leads to the exit, you stop dead in your tracks. As you ponder the decision, your time quickly becomes limited, as the light at the other end of the room goes out.
You decide on option A and run blindly into the dark hallway. As you reach the room at the end, suddenly the lights come back on. As your eyes adjust to the light, you notice that the droning of the lights has returned as well.
You entered this room through one, right? You rack your brain trying to think of how this may have happened, scanning the room over and over.
I awoke last night with a change of heart; you are owed an explanation, and even a warning. If I do as I have planned, I and my actions will be vilified, and misunderstood.
Please believe me, I am doing this for all the right reasons. You may not see it now, but in ten or twenty years, you will see a new world born.
That is worth any sacrifice. I have done my work here in Turkey, the first of many great cities to see, and I board a plane tomorrow.
I am in one of the oldest settlements of mankind, and her majesty overwhelms me, just as her descent saddens me.
I must confess knowing this already, but forgive my sense of romanticism; I did want to see this place, once. I have no work to do here; once the junction of trade lanes between East and West, Samarkand has become isolated and useless to me.
But the ghosts of her history and past bring me strength and resolve. The case that I carry with me is heavy in my hand, it is my burden, but with each stop, that burden lessens.
The city still sleeps late into the morning on Saturday, and in many places the streets are still empty.
He was at least two generations removed from the war, and did not seem, or want, to understand when I told him that London had the same problem.
Most of humanity is horrified by the specter of the war, of what happened here. They wonder how man could be so inhumane. These people know nothing of the world, or of nature, red in tooth and claw.
These are the people that artificially elevate humanity above the animal kingdom, people that maintain an ephemeral barrier between our particular primate sub-grouping, and the rest of life on Earth.
I never understood these people. I deposited one more device downtown, in a massive state-of-the-art theater complex. I hid it carefully, and set the little slaved atomic clock to my own.
My flight departs in a few hours, and if you are following me, you will have no luck in Germany.
London shows her war wounds with flat gray office towers, and plain, blocky apartments, yet her age and history bleed through the scars as I stroll down the Thames, scarcely aware of the brackish odor of the oily waters.
You draw some artificial line between a hamburger wrapper and the fallen leaves of a tree that I will never understand.
You distinguish between nature and humanity in a way that puzzles me. We are nature, our cities, our roads, and our orbital satellites are no different than a termite colony, or a birds nest, except perhaps in scale.
There is nothing unique about humanity. I know that I am all but alone in this conceit, but history and nature herself will prove me right.
Alice splashed cold water onto her burning face, looking up into the mirror. But jumped back, heart pounding, when she saw her reflection.
She swore she saw herself……blink. A few hours later, she sits in her art class, watching her classmates work on their projects. While doing so, her hand slips and she cuts her hand pretty deeply with a razor blade, red liquid spilling out on her work.
But she felt nothing. Before she knew it the teacher was staring at her, eyes wide, and rushed her to the nurse.
When she returned, she hid her face and walked back to her seat. But she froze before she sat down, red circles completely covered her work and desk.
The whole situation made her shake, and as soon as the bell rung, she ran out into the halls. Before she left campus, she was greeted by a familiar smile.
And welcome to Wonderland! Anyways, gonna do that homework? They said there goodbyes, then Alice reliantly walked into the forest.
She loved it, it was so peaceful, the yellow sun hitting the untouched white terrain and the thin shadows of the leafless trees.
The only thing that bothered her was it meant she was going back to that horrid place some would call a home. She opened the creaking door and slowly, silently entered the cold house.
She held her breath walking though the living room. Alice squeaked as he yanked her back looking straight into her eyes with disgust.
I forgot to clean this morning! She thought to herself. Rogers across her face. Alice quickly stood up, throwing away garbage and cleaning the counters in a silenced panic.
She held back the emotions boiling inside, sadness, confusion and rage. Afterwards she quickly walked up the steps to her small bedroom. It was a dark room, the walls covered with her favorite drawings, a small bed in the center and a dresser in the corner.
This was her only escape, the only place she could be free. No one came in, only her, no one else. The next day she walked through the snow filled woods and emerged onto the road on the other end, speed walking down the sidewalk.
She did not cross the road today, she just quickly walked, her favorite black hoodie covering her large black and blue gash on her face.
Rogers would do…. Hey, wait up! Alice turned her head, looking out into the forest as Ann walked beside her.
Selling some drugs? Ann smirked and ripped off the hood, her eyes widened. What happened! Are you ok? Ann looked at her face sternly.
She knew Alice was lying, something was up. Alice nodded as the two girls walked towards the school. This was uncommon for her, usually people ignored her, not giving her even a glance.
After school she quickly walked out of the building, not waiting for her only friend. She walked across the campus, tripping on the steps of the short stairs, when she saw two figures walk towards her.
She looked at the ground, watching the concrete move under her feet. As she walked, a foot blocked her steps, tripping Alice onto the hard concrete floor.
Her hand and elbow stopped her fall mostly but sent her notebooks and sketchbook flying in front of her. Red face with embarrassment, she squirmed onto her knees, grabbing her books in a panic.
Laughing burst everywhere around her, her face turning into a deep red. Sure, now people notice me. As she grabbed the last notebook she felt something hit the back of her head, brown liquid jumped in every direction, chocolate milk dripping off her bangs and onto her face.
She froze, something tugged at the back of her mind. She felt her blood boil with rage until….. Dropping everything, she got up, spun around and ran towards one of the figures that had tripped her.
He fell back wheezing, coughing up….. As he sat on the concrete hugging his stomach her knee rammed into the side of his head. He coughed up more crimson when…..There is nothing evil about Kino Kinder Hamburg wasp that implants her young into a living caterpillar. Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta. As you reach the other side of the room, you realize two things. Live for the future, or be buried in Formel 1 Silverstone past.