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Kill1mes

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Earlier today I was on Creepypasta wiki chat, and got tipped off that somebody might be plagiarizing me. Before I posted my pasta on this site, I was updating it frequently on my DeviantArt page. Apparently, one time I updated it, a member took a liking to it and decided to say it was his. My anonymous source say this marauder linked it to him, and that the marauder's username began with "W". That is all I know so far. My source says that he got to the part at the police station, then possible made a few changes and said he wrote it. If any of you have any Information at all, please let me know. Thanks for reading this in any case.
This is the link to the pasta in question: creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/No_…

Small update: This person is a member of the wiki, and posted a link in chat, which led to his DeviantArt, which had my story. I do not know if the usernames of DeviantArt and the wiki are the same for him.
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My Living Hell

9 min read
Here you guys go with what I have with my pasta right now, it all comes together in the end, but I'm not there yer. Criticism would be nice

I woke up, feel sick and decrepit. I slid out of bed, and my feet touch the cold floorboards, I walk over to my door, and placed my hand on the doorknob. Just then a cold shiver ran up my spine. I just stood there, waiting for something. Something felt wrong. I opened the door regardless and walked downstairs, the floorboards creaking under my weight.
I walked over to the fridge to get some breakfast, upon opening I noticed the light at the top was off. Was the power out? I glanced over toward the microwave, it was blank. I cursed and gave up. I walked back upstairs and dressed. Everything felt cold.
I walked outside and locked the door behind me, nobody else had any lights on. I walked the streets aimlessly, looking for something to hold my interest. I wandered over to the woods, feeling dead inside. I wandered on, lost in thoughts and ended up in the backyard of my friends house. He should be there, and that should help dissolve the morbid atmosphere.
I knock on his door, and it creaks open. I walk in curiously, I know I should go get help, the place looks like its been ransacked. What if somebody broke in here? I ran through the house, looking for signs of struggle.
There were no signs of a fight in the whole house, it just looked like it had been abandoned for years. The lights didn't work, the water was brown, and the electricity was gone. Everything had a layer of dust. I walked out of the house, trying to calm myself. I glanced across the road, a nice elderly couple lived there, maybe they could explain why my friend's house was in such disrepair, it ad been lively and happy the last time I was there. I knocked on the door, trying not to panic.
Again, the door swung open, I tried to reassure myself that they probably forgot to close it, forgetful in their elder years. I searched the house high and low for any signs of life, there wasn't even a spider, which I assured myself, meant that the left recently, but where?
I searched a few more houses but they were all the same, all desolate, all deserted. I ran towards a small suburban town nearby, where there must be people! Is there guaranteed some place there will be life? The town had a High school, where my friends and me used to go, that must have people. I sprinted past buildings, all looking as desolate as the others.
As I turned the final corner, I saw something that made my heart lift, there was another person in this ghost town! It was my best friend Ethan, he meant the world to me, and seeing him almost guaranteed I could survive this nightmare. I ran toward him shouting his name, he recognized me and started running toward me. I felt happy for the first time that day, but this nightmare wasn't done with me.
There was a gunshot, and Ethan started falling, it seemed in slow motion. I reached him right as he hit the ground, sending up a hot puff of dust that stung my eyes. I stared at his body, not believing my eyes. Hot tears ran down my face, and dripped onto him. I pinched myself, trying to wake myself up from this nightmare, I didn't wake up and the pain felt real. All my mind could comprehend at this moment was that I wasn't dreaming. I turned my friend over, and closed him eyes.  I kneeled besides him, and sobbed. When I opened my eyes there was a tarantula as big as my head crawling over to me, I screamed and jumped backwards, falling on my back. Another one of those tarantulas crawled onto me, I was face to face with one of my biggest fears. I panicked and flailed my arms, hitting the tarantula in the face and dazing it, with that I scrambled up and sprinted away, seeing my friend get devoured by these beasts. I ran until I could no more, then collapsed, curled up, and sobbed.
I probably would have stayed like that but I needed to avoid those spider. It felt like hours later, I finally got up and tried to plan what I would do next. The image of my friend falling haunted my mind. I couldn't focus. I picked a random direction and started walking. Just then my backpack started weighing me down, I reached back and found out my backpack was hair and had eight legs. I felt the fangs pierce the back of my head. I fell face forward into the dirt, my vision and hearing blurred. I looked up straight into the disgusting face of the tarantula, which blurred in and out of focus.
I woke up groggily in a gray room, with a simple wood chair and a dim bulb. I noticed a door on a wall, and what looked like a one-way window taking up most of the wall the chair was facing. I got up slowly, my head spinning. I felt so dizzy I could barely stand, so I made my way over to the wooden chair, and kind of collapsed into it. I stared at the dim lightbulb, barely lighting the room. I resisted the urge to vomit. The lightbulb slid in and out of focus. I saw about three people walk into the room, two of them were armed. They were all wearing black tank tops and blue jeans. The two men that were armed stood both leaned on the opposite wall, and they were to far away for me to focus on, The man that was unarmed walked toward me, he was bald, but had a bushy mustache and sunglasses on. He also had biceps the size of my throat. He stood right in front of me, and kneeled down so he was facing me. It never occurred to me to run or attack him, I just sat there, quivering with terror.
The man hit me in the face, and I almost fell out of my chair. He pushed me back and hit me again. He kept doing this until he had enough, and there was blood covering his fist and my face. One of the armed men stepped toward me and shot me in the shoulder. I screamed in pain, but that wasn't all the torture. The bald man shoved his thumb into the bullet hole. My shoulder felt like it was on fire, and I let out anguished screams. I ran out of breath, and slumped. The tears fell out of my eyes like a waterfall, and I started wheezing through sobs. I looked up at the man, who was visibly grinning. I felt the hate welling up within me. I spit in the bald mans eye. He brought a hand up to his eye, and the smile disappeared quickly. He grabbed me angrily, and lifted me up. He gestured at his men with his free hand, and they opened the door. He dragged me through a damp, dim, smelly hallway into another room, I thought the torture was done.
They pushed open a door and pushed my through. There was another friend of mine, named Hunter. He had a hateful look in his eyes, and his long black hair was now matted with blood. As glad as I was to see him, I made me feel sick to know that he was being tortured too. One of the bald mans cohorts walked into the room ahead of me. Then Chrome Dome himself threw me into the room, I got up quickly and stared at him, not wanting to see the beaten face of my friend. He spoke something in some language with a think accent I didn't recognize, and the other man translated in bad english. "You here shoot man, he die or more die." Then another man walked into the room holding my mother. The translator grabbed here and walked her into the middle of the room. Then the man who had entered holding my mother left the room again and walked back in holding my girlfriend. Both of them were gagged and beaten. I started hyperventilating. I watched as they brought the two into another room, which I could barely see through what I guess what bulletproof glass. Chrome Dome pushed me over and retrieved a handgun from his back pocket, and tossed it down nearby me, then he left, joining the others behind the bulletproof glass. I rushed over to my friend and he picked up his head. "C'mon, we need to get out of here" I croaked, my throat dry from the dust and dirt and exhaustion. He looked at me hopelessly, and replied dryly "There is no way out, even if we could escape, they would shoot us down in an instant. Besides, I barely have the energy to stand here, after a few weeks." Wait, a few weeks?
"What do you mean, a few weeks?" I managed to say finally.
"We've been here for about three weeks remember, ever since the enemy ambushed us. Remember we were going for the surprise attack?" This stumped me, were we war prisoners? And had I really been unconscious for three weeks? No that wasn't possible, this had to be some sort of nightmare, but I knew it wasn't. I looked back at the people who brought us here. The bald man grinned and gestured toward the handgun on the floor, then made a shooting motion at Hunter. I shook my head desperately and the grin disappeared, the two henchmen help up guns to the women's temples, fingers on the trigger.
"Just do it, maybe they will let you go" Hunter said bravely.
I picked up the gun, but couldn't bring myself to do it. I started panicking and hyperventilating again. In my panic-driven mind, only one solution popped up.
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Tagged. Dammit.

3 min read
Well :icondashie-farts: has tagged me so oh well


Rules and shit:
~You must post these rules.
~Each person must post 10 things about themselves on their journal.
~Answer the questions the tagger set for you, and create ten (10) new questions for the people you tag to answer.
~You have to choose 10 people to tag and post their icons on your journal.
~Go to their pages and tell them you have tagged him/her.
~No tag backs.
~No nonsense in the tagging section about "you are tagged if you're reading this".
~You have to tag 10 people.

Questions:
1. If you were on Who Wants To Be a Millionaire and the million dollar question was "Will you give me a blowjob?", what would your response be?
"What the fuck?"
2. What is your LEAST favorite band?
Hmm, Justin Beiber
3. Do you have any pets?
2 maine coon cats.
4. IS U A GURL?
Nope.avi
5. If you were trapped in a well with nothing but a pile of Nickelback CD's and Rebecca Black's Friday looped for an hour, which one would you listen to first?
Nickleback.
6. If you woke up in a desert with nothing to drink/eat, and there was no way to contact anyone. What would you do?
Probably die.
7. Can you tell I'm running out of question ideas?
It's kinda obvious.
8. Have any siblings?
Yus, a 19 year old brother
9. If you said yes to number 3, what are the pet(s) named? If not, what would you name a pet?
Max and Mango
10. Worst TV show?
Too many to decide... Imma go with Jersey Shore.

Now time for my questions
1. Favorite video game?
2. Harry Potter or twilight?
3. Would you rather be chopped up into little bits before dying, or suffocate in elephant shit? (somebody actually died that way, poor fucker)
4. How did you meet me and what did we say?
5. Dogs or cats?
6. What would you do if I met you in real life?
7. Favorite pastime?
8. There is a robber in your house. Wat do?
9. What is your greatest fear?
10. What is your honest opinion on me?

Now for the tagees
:iconfurbearingbrick: :icontycholarfero: :iconbug2buga: :iconpellyeve93: :iconkawaiifluffycake: :iconninjagal4127: :iconjekel-and-hyde: :iconhiddenshadowspirit: :iconfallout404: :iconhellninjas:
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Tagged. Dammit.

3 min read
Well :icondashie-farts: has tagged me so oh well


Rules and shit:
~You must post these rules.
~Each person must post 10 things about themselves on their journal.
~Answer the questions the tagger set for you, and create ten (10) new questions for the people you tag to answer.
~You have to choose 10 people to tag and post their icons on your journal.
~Go to their pages and tell them you have tagged him/her.
~No tag backs.
~No nonsense in the tagging section about "you are tagged if you're reading this".
~You have to tag 10 people.

Questions:
1. If you were on Who Wants To Be a Millionaire and the million dollar question was "Will you give me a blowjob?", what would your response be?
"What the fuck?"
2. What is your LEAST favorite band?
Hmm, Justin Beiber
3. Do you have any pets?
2 maine coon cats.
4. IS U A GURL?
Nope.avi
5. If you were trapped in a well with nothing but a pile of Nickelback CD's and Rebecca Black's Friday looped for an hour, which one would you listen to first?
Nickleback.
6. If you woke up in a desert with nothing to drink/eat, and there was no way to contact anyone. What would you do?
Probably die.
7. Can you tell I'm running out of question ideas?
It's kinda obvious.
8. Have any siblings?
Yus, a 19 year old brother
9. If you said yes to number 3, what are the pet(s) named? If not, what would you name a pet?
Max and Mango
10. Worst TV show?
Too many to decide... Imma go with Jersey Shore.

Now time for my questions
1. Favorite video game?
2. Harry Potter or twilight?
3. Would you rather be chopped up into little bits before dying, or suffocate in elephant shit? (somebody actually died that way, poor fucker)
4. How did you meet me and what did we say?
5. Dogs or cats?
6. What would you do if I met you in real life?
7. Favorite pastime?
8. There is a robber in your house. Wat do?
9. What is your greatest fear?
10. What is your honest opinion on me?

Now for the tagees
:iconfurbearingbrick: :iconTycholafero: :iconbug2buga: :iconpellyeve93: :iconkawaiifluffycake: :iconninjagal4127: :iconjekel-and-hyde: :iconhiddenshadowspirit: :iconfallout404: :iconhellninjas:
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I just wanted to wish anybody who reads this a good 2013! I'll probably be posting a lot more unfinished pastas if you guys want to critique them, and get back into drawing! Thanks everyone!
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