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Posted 3 months ago

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Have you ever been influenced by clothing? I don’t mean confidence by looks. Have you ever been given more control than ever by an item, or a truth, or just a favorite shirt? Have you ever been influenced in the worst way? By showing the truth? The following is taken directly from journal entries. The entries were written by a notorious, but unknown killer. He is notorious in the means that everybody has seen his work. He is unknown because nobody knows that he has done it. His origin is unusual. No troubles, no evil family, no magic or paranormal forces. His life was chosen by him, and him alone. His identity is also unknown. He will be named from here on, as  The Hooded Man.

 

April 3, 2004

It’s been really cold around here. I don’t have anything really to cover myself. All I have are my T-shirts and jeans. So today I decided to get a jacket. I was just in a local store, nothing special. It’s a black hoodie, with a white lining. I think it looks pretty cool, and when I tried it on the attendant said it suits me fine. I said thanks to be polite (common courtesy is so hard to find).

So I bought it. I haven’t taken it off yet. Not only is it warm, but I can really see myself doing amazing things in it. When I look at the mirror, I smirk. I feel amazing. I can’t really explain it, but I like it. I really like it. I feel the need to put my hood up. Something about the hood has a way of masking a person. Even though it shows their face, it hides something…..somewhere. It’s really late right now. I’ve been feeling so great all day, time flew around me. I’ll have to explain more tomorrow.

 

April 10

I’ve had a hell of a week. I felt so great. I walked the halls like a big shot. I’m sure I looked smug. That’s why Jack challenged me. He was so angry. Who never do ignoring an insult was more insulting than responding with shrewd comments about someone’s family. He antagonized me.

He asked for it. He threw a hard punch, and I stood. It stung harder than before when I actually argued with him. I felt so cool all week. My confidence kept me up. I punched him hard in the stomach and I lifted him up with an underhook. It felt so good….it really did…..Parents calling.

 

April 14

Jack still isn’t in out of the hospital. They said he’s in a lot of pain. He spit a lot of blood. His parents told me over the phone. I reflected on it. On how great it felt when my fist connected….how his cracked scream sounded…

“That’s good to hear,” I said blankly.

I don’t care about Jack. I smiled at his pain. I keep staring. I keep staring at my mirror. I’m always wearing my favorite hoodie. It feels so…empowering. My friends would laugh at what I say. They would compare me to Spiderman and his black suit. Spiderman threw his power away. I don’t plan on doing anything with my source of confidence.

 

April 22

“Jack has gone to a better place.” The words rang through my ears.

He’s dead. He lost too much blood. his father told me the day I visited, that he was losing blood due to a personal health condition. But the way his mother looked at me told me the real story. I killed him. I still remember the satisfaction of hitting him. I never wanted to kill him. I need to think about what I’ve done…..right? That’ll fix my feelings. but what is there to think about. regret is a foolish emotion. I don’t need regret.

 

April 24

Dad has been avoiding me lately, and mom just tells me she loves me. They both want me to feel endless guilt, but I won’t, or rather, I can’t. I can fake it for the public, but the truth is, I’m not sorry. Spiderman’s story is starting to make me think more. but why would a “cursed”, or “possessed” hoodie, land in my possession? Everybody who knew Jack glares at me.

Everyone who I would talk to have transferred themselves out of my class or went to a different school. Teachers don’t look at me much, or get onto me if I’m breaking any rule. Today, I threw a pencil at my history teacher, it hit his shoulder. He just froze for a second and continued what he was doing. Everyone either hates me, and probably wants me dead, or they fear me. My writing is the only comfort I have. I can be at peace and let myself go.

 

April 25

They provoked me. They threatened me. I had no choice. They would have killed me. My hood protected my face. the knife naturally moved from Rob’s hand to mine. I didn’t mean to (the writing was a short line at this point).

 

April 30

5 days. 5 days being interrogated, and sleeping in a cell. They decided I was only defending myself. I can hear mom and dad talking. They want me gone. They’re both scared. I was an idiot to think that this jacket of mine was possessing me, or changing my personality. It’s just a really cool jacket. I love how it looks. I feel like such a badass.
link to the story: httpsFrustrated/www.creepypasta.com/hoodie-the-hooded-man/

I remember how I put the hood up. I put it up when Jack challenged me. I put it up when those guys tried to kill me. I feel no remorse. I feel indifferent. I am in control. I have finally come to realize insanity. I wanted to kill them. all of them. I needed only a push, and the confidence to fight. I got it. Mom and Dad are irritating me. They all irritated me.

A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself. – Josh Billings


Posted 3 months ago

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It was a nice summer day, my 5-year-old son James was playing outside in the backyard of our suburban home. James has always been a quiet boy, he plays by himself mostly, he never had many friends, but he has always had a wild imagination. I was in the kitchen feeding our dog Fido when I heard what sounded like James talking to someone in the backyard. I’m not sure who it was he could be talking to, could he have finally made a friend? Being a single mom it’s hard for me to always keep an eye on my son, so I decided to go outside and check on him. 

When I went into the backyard I was a bit confused, because James was the only person back there. Was he talking to himself? I could have sworn I heard another voice. “James! It’s time to come inside.” I called out to him. He came inside and sat down at the kitchen table, it was about lunchtime so I decided to make him a turkey sandwich. “James. Who were you talking to out there?” I asked. James looked up for a moment, “I was playing with my new friend,” he said smiling. I poured him some milk and continued to pry, as any good mother would. “Does your friend have a name? Why didn’t you ask him to have lunch with us?” I asked. James stared at me for a moment before replying, “His name is Laughing Jack.” I was a bit taken back by what he had said. “Oh? That’s a strange name. What does your friend look like?” I asked a bit confused. “He’s a clown. He has long hair and a big swirly cone nose. He’s got long arms and baggy pants, with stripy socks, and he always smiles.” I realized my son was talking about an imaginary friend. I suppose it is normal for kids his age to have imaginary friends, especially when he has no real kids to play with. It’s probably just a phase.

The rest of the day went by as per usual, and it was starting to get late so I put James to bed. I tucked him in, gave him a kiss, and made sure to turn on his nightlight before I closed the door. I was pretty tired myself so I decided to go to bed not long after. I had an awful nightmare…

It was dark. I was in some kind of rundown amusement park. I was scared, running through an endless field of empty tents, broken down rides, and abandoned game huts. The whole place had a horrible look to it. Everything was black and white, the prize stuffed animals all hung from nooses in the game huts, all with sick grins stitched on their faces. It felt like the whole park was looking at me, even though there wasn’t another living thing in sight. Then suddenly, I began to hear music play. The sounds of Pop Goes the Weasel being played on a squeezebox echoed through the park, it was hypnotizing. I followed its tune to the circus tent almost in a trance, unable to stop my legs from moving forward. It was pitch black, the only light came from a single spotlight shining on the center of the big top. As I walked toward the light the music slowed down, I found myself singing along unable to stop.

“All around the mulberry bush

The monkey chased the weasel

The monkey though ’twas all in fun…”

The music stopped right before its climax, and suddenly the lights shot on. The intensity of the lights was practically blinding, all I could see was a small dark silhouette shuffle towards me. Then another one appeared, and another, and another. There were dozens of them, all coming toward me. I couldn’t move, my legs were frozen, all I could do was watch as the haunting figures drew nearer. As they got closer I could see… THEY WERE CHILDREN! As I looked at each one I noticed they were all horribly disfigured and mutilated. Some had cuts all over their body, others were severely burnt, and others were missing limbs, even eyes! The children enveloped me, clawing at my flesh, dragging me to the ground, and tearing inside me. As the children tore me apart and I faded away, all I could hear was laughter, horrible, awful, evil, laughter.

I woke up the next morning in a cold sweat. After taking a few deep breaths I looked over and saw that a few of James’ action figures were positioned facing me on top of my nightstand. I sighed, James had probably woken up early and put these here. I gathered up the toys and made my way to James’ room. However, when I opened the door, James was sound asleep. I just shrugged and placed the toys back into his toy box, and headed out to the living room. A little while later James woke up and I made him his breakfast. He was quiet and seemed a bit groggy, perhaps he didn’t sleep well either. I decided to ask him about the toys, “James honey, did you put the toys in mommy’s room this morning?” His eyes shot up at me for a moment then quickly glanced back down at his cereal. “Laughing Jack did it.” I rolled my eyes and responded, “Well you tell ‘Laughing Jack’ to keep the toys in your room.” James nodded and finished up his breakfast, then decided to go play out in the back yard.

I went to relax in the living room and I must have dozed off because I woke up a couple of hours later. “CRAP! I need to check on James.” I was a bit worried, it had been over 2 hours and I haven’t checked on him. I went stepped out into the backyard, but James wasn’t there anymore. I was getting nervous so I called out to him, “JAMES! JAMES WHERE ARE YOU?!” Just then I heard a giggle come from the front yard. I rushed through the gate around to the front of the house. James was sitting on the sidewalk. I breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to him, “James how many times have I told you to stay in the backya… James, what are you eating?” James looked up at me then reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand full of hard candies in all colors. This made me very nervous, “James, who gave you that candy?” James just stared at me not speaking. “JAMES! Please, tell mommy where you got that candy.” James hung his head down and said, “Laughing Jack gave it to me.” My heart sunk, I kneeled down to look him in the eye, “ James I’ve had had enough of this damn Laughing Jack thing, HE IS NOT REAL! Now this is a very serious situation and I need to know who gave you the candy!” I could see my son’s eyes tear up, “But mama, Laughing Jack DID give me the candy.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, James has never lied to me but what he’s telling me is impossible. I make him spit out the candy and I throw the rest away, James appears to be fine. Maybe I’m just overreacting after all he could have gotten it from Tom and Linda from next door or Mr. Walker down the street. Either way, I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on James. That night I put James to bed as usual and decided to go to bed early myself.

Suddenly I was woken up by a loud bang coming from the kitchen. I sprung out of bed and hurried down the stairs. When I got to the kitchen I was horrified. Everything on the counters had been thrown on the floor, and our dog Fido hung dead from the light fixture. His stomach was cut open and stuffed with candy, the same type that James was eating earlier that day. My shock was quickly broken by a sharp scream coming from James’ room followed by loud crashes. I quickly grabbed a knife from the drawer and moved up the stairs with the speed that only a mother whose child is in danger could have. I burst through the door and flicked on the lights. Everything in the room was knocked over and tossed on the floor, my poor son in his bed crying and shaking with fear, a pool of urine staining the sheets. I scooped my child up and ran out of the house and went next door to Tom and Linda’s house, Luckily they were still awake. They let me use their phone and I called the police. It didn’t take them long to arrive, and I explained what had happened, they looked at me as if I were crazy. They searched the house, but all they found was a dead dog and 2 trashed rooms. The officer told me that someone had probably gotten into the house and done this right before making a quick escape when they heard me coming up the stairs. I knew it wasn’t true. All the doors were locked and none of the windows were open, whatever was in my house didn’t come from outside.

The next day James stayed inside, I didn’t want him to leave my sight. I went into the garage and found his old baby monitor and set it up in his room if anything comes into it tonight, I was going to be able to hear it. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the largest knife from the drawer and put it on my nightstand. Imaginary friend or not, I’m not letting anything hurt my little boy.

Soon enough night came. I put James to bed, he was afraid, but I promised him that I wasn’t going to let anything happen to him. I tucked him in, gave him a kiss, and turned on the nightlight. Before closing the door I whispered to him “Goodnight James, I love you.”

I tried to stay up as long as I could, but after a few hours, I felt myself drifting off. My baby would be safe for the night and I needed to sleep. Just as I lay my head on the pillow I heard a soft noise come from the baby monitor I had put on my nightstand. At first, it sounded like interference, like the kind a radio would make. Then it turned into a soft moan. Was James asleep? Then I heard it, the laugh from my nightmare, that horrible laugh. I sprung up from the bed and grabbed the knife from under my pillow. I rushed over to James’ room and creaked the door open. I tried the light switch but it wouldn’t come on. I took a step in and I could feel the warm thick liquid on my feet. Suddenly James’ nightlight came on and I could see the absolute horror laid out in front of me.

James’ body was nailed up on the wall, the nails piercing through his hands and feet. His chest was cut wide open and his organs hung down to the floor. His eyes and tongue had been removed along with most of his teeth. I was disgusted, I could hardly believe this was my baby boy. Then I heard it again, the soft desperate moan. JAMES WAS STILL ALIVE! My baby, my poor baby, in so much pain barely clinging to life. I ran across the room and vomited on the floor, but my sickness was interrupted by a horrible cackle coming from behind me. I spun around while still wiping bile from my mouth, then out of the shadows emerged the fiend responsible for all this horror, Laughing Jack. His ghost white skin and matted black hair hung down to his shoulders. He had piercing white eyes surrounded by dark black rings. His twisted smile revealed a row of sharp jagged teeth, and his skin didn’t look like skin at all, it almost looked like rubber or plastic. He wore a patchy, black and white clown outfit with striped sleeved and socks. His body itself was grotesque, his long arms hanging down past his waist and the way he was poised made him look almost boneless, like a ragdoll. He let out a sickening laugh as if to let me know he was pleased with my reaction to his ‘work’. He then turned around slowly in front of James and began to laugh even more at the horrific sight he has laid out. That was enough to shake me from my terror, I snapped, “GET AWAY FROM HIM!” I rushed at the monster raising the knife above my head and stabbed down at him, but as soon as the knife touched him he disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. The knife passed right through and pierced James’ still beating heart, splashing the warm blood on my face….
Police soon arrived to find me in front of my son, still wielding the knife covered in my baby’s blood. The trial was short, insanity. I was placed in the Phiropoulos House for the Criminally Insane, where I have been for the past 2 months. It’s not so bad here, the only reason I’m awake now is because someone is playing Pop Goes the Weasel outside my window. I’ll talk to the orderlies about it in the morning…

 

LAUGHING JACK

Rating: 8.76/10. From 912 votes.

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A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself. – Josh Billings


Posted 3 months ago

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nice laughing jack is my favorite creepypasta, so i really like this story


Posted 3 months ago

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You see when i first read that story and got to the part when the dog was hung in the kitchen i could honestly see that i could picture that it was scary i didnt want to keep reading but something told me i had to keep going so i did only to fine out the kid was dead and she was in an insane asylum i myself felt like i was going nuts man


Posted 3 months ago

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"Rosemarie529" wrote:

You see when i first read that story and got to the part when the dog was hung in the kitchen i could honestly see that i could picture that it was scary i didnt want to keep reading but something told me i had to keep going so i did only to fine out the kid was dead and she was in an insane asylum i myself felt like i was going nuts man




yea same for me


Posted 3 months ago

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I could see a kid nailed a wall I'm not grossed out somehow...this story sure gave me chills though

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