creepypasta: My Dad is Covered in Blood, and This Time, it’s Not Mine

Sep 27

Written By JANK .

by Sophia Gelsomino

I’m not saying your parents are killers, but when was the last time they threatened to send you back to where you came from?

Now that I have your attention, indulge me for a moment. Do you remember the headlights creeping up your driveway at 2am? Do you remember them casting shadows across the room, your subconscious forcing your brain to believe these shadows weren’t really there? Maybe it was a scream coming from the kitchen, or a loud bang in the walls that startled you awake. What I’m trying to say… is that you weren’t imagining anything.

Let’s talk about obsession. Not the dark romance, sensual fantasy type, but the very real fixation that hits you like a semi truck. The kind that keeps you up at night, trashing you into an intrusive spiral. The kind that follows you around like a storm cloud, waiting to explode. Now what if that obsession involved a girl. What if this girl was your entire world, your reason to get out of bed each morning, your reason to live and die?

Except, that girl is a child, and she’s yours.

“My father was shy and soft-spoken in public, warm and kind in private. What I remember most about him is his laughter. The way his eyes would crinkle. He was devoted to the memory of my mother, who passed away when I was so little I could not remember her. In later years I often saw him with dark circles under his eyes, and his smile became rare. Our relationship was strained by my teenage rebelliousness. But one thing I was certain of growing up: he loved me more than anything or anyone in the world. Yet when I look back now… I can see that there were always hints of his darker tendencies. For example: when I was seven years old, he taught me to butcher a pig.”

So I ask you, how well do you know your parents?

We are responsible for our own demons, that’s why they’re called demonstrations. By definition, they are any action or process of showing the existence or truth of something by giving proof or evidence. Whether someone believes it, is entirely up to them. The next time you blame the demons, consider the following phrase: “I had to.”

Read the original creepypasta story by Quincy Lee here: https://www.creepypasta.com/the-children-in-my-houses-walls/