Cryptids can be the scariest creatures around, especially those you have never seen before. Killahawke does an amazing job at writing up cryptids that are new and frightening. These are creatures that you will never ever want to see on your doorstep or in your spaceship! These three very spooky creepypasta stories by Killahawke1 will not disappoint you. Listen to my scary stories podcast and read along. If you prefer, listen to the commercial free version by subscribing to my Patreon.

Story 1

Gaze
(source)

Mmm… Watching.

I have something I must confess. I have been watching you. Yes, right this second. Unaware of my proximity, I’ve been watching you for the past several days. You have such a lovely home, full of space and dark corners. I like the dark. All that time, I have been in your home just watching you. Well, not just watching, but we’ll come to that later.

I never grow weary of watching you perform your nightly routines before you slip into your bed under your warm blankets. I know the exact moment you fall asleep and I am there to see you awaken in the morning to day break’s new light. I am so still, my stare remains unbroken and undisturbed for hours and hours. You are so beautiful when you sleep. I wish you could see yourself as I see you. Your body is a sensual furnace of heat that radiates endless plumes of vibrant red, orange, and yellow flames as you slumber. I bask in your warmth and light. Your rhythmic rising and falling of your chest is the source of a breath that can ignite the very air around you, announcing to the universe that you are here and you are alive! The beauty of the spectacle can hold me in a trance the entire night until the morning light forces me to retreat to my dark haven. Other nights, I come to you.

You don’t even feel my touch. Up and down your arms and thighs, I touch you with the utmost care. I would never want to disturb you while you sleep. Your skin is so soft and delicate, so unlike mine. Your body is a landscape of ecstasy, with a new wonder just waiting to be discovered and explored. Your aroma is intoxicating and invokes an insatiable hunger that I surrender to and gorge upon. I then quietly make my way back to my hiding place. I am hidden well before the first rays of morning peek through the windows. I am so quiet; you never realize I was there. You awake and go about your life as you would any other day while I sleep content, but still filled with anticipation for what the following night will hold for us.

I see that you have noticed the marks I left behind. Marks on your thighs and arms and throughout your body. I know they hurt and I am truly sorry for that, but things like that are unavoidable when it comes to matters such as these. I am always so careful that my kisses are soft and delicate. I kiss your body ever so lightly and cautiously. I would not dare spill a single drop of your blood.

It saddens me that soon I will have to share you with others. However, I take comfort in knowing that you will be just as beautiful to them as you are to me. I know their touch will be equally as delicate as my touches have been. I know their kisses will show as much tenderness as mine have always had.

My eggs will hatch any day now. The little ones will most likely hide within the mattress and frame of your bed; a trait for which we earned our namesake. I much prefer the nightstand next to your bed. The tiny crevice along its side allows me to look upon your face for as long as I desire. It is from here that I simply gaze and wait for our next encounter.

—Author unknown

Story 2

Late Night in the Hot Tub
(source)

Vapor climbs into the night air in elegant, wispy streams. It rises delicately into the air before disappearing. It’s one o’clock in the morning. Light snow is falling. I live alone out in the middle of nowhere. The night is calm and still; the ideal time to grab a glass of wine, strip down and hop into the hot tub.

The steam from the ninety-nine-degree water is refreshing. I lean back, close my eyes, and listen to the comforting water churn and bubble around me. Nothing is wrong in the world right now. I sit content, relishing this perfect moment in time.

That’s when I hear it. Faint stirring and falling of debris tumbling off the rooftop from the side of the house. I think to myself, “Son of a bitch! There’s someone on my roof!” I reach for my towel to cover myself when I see it. A long shaky hand emerges from the rooftop. It explores around, touching each of the roof-shingle as if it is trying to find just the right spot to grip. The other hand appears and does the same; then a third and fourth hand emerge.

As it pulls itself up further over the edge of the roof, its thin and long body comes into full view. It resembles a short, toned male, except for the two extra arms. Its skin is jet-black and rough as if its body was charred and burned. I immediately lower myself into the steamy water as far as I can; the water level is reaching just below my nose. I press myself against the side of the tub, hoping the darkness and billowing steam will hide my presence from this terrifying creature scuttling on my rooftop just ten feet away.

In spite of its trembling, it moves from the rooftop to the edge of the house with the purposeful movement of a tarantula, lifting one hand high into the air before bringing it down, feeling around the surface before moving the next limb. Then it does the impossible. It lowers itself over the edge and begins crawling on the wall! The comparison of this man-spider is now complete. I gasp from surprise, taking in a little water through my nose. I snort and contain my coughs as well as I can. I slide deeper into the water, my eyes just above the waterline.

It jerks its head sharply upward and sniffs the air! My eyes widen. It flicks its head to the left. Tears swell in my eyes from the fear. It twists its head with a snap to the right and inhales the air. I sink even lower and go prone to the hot tub’s wall, my heart thumping in my chest and water splashing in my face.

It resumes snaking alongside my house like a nightmarish arachnid. It goes from window to window, checking to see if any will open. It meticulously pulls on each window frame and presses a clubbed hand against every window pane. Flashes of panic fill my heart at the thought of that horrid thing gaining entry to my home. I try to think of anything within my immediate reach that I could use as a weapon.

Luck seems to be on my side. Every window was locked and shut tight. It drops its shoulder in disappointment and slowly makes its way to the edge of the house, leaps high into the air and lands on a nearby tree. It disappears into the night as if it had never been there.

I slowly slip out the warm comfort of the tub’s water and reach for my towel. One foot over the edge and then the other. The water drips from my body as I exit the tub. Crash! I am paralyzed with gut retching fear from the shattered wine glass I had put on the edge of the towel. To hell with the modesty! I run buck naked for the door!

Ten feet!

I see the shape of a man rustle in the trees. Six eyes reflect the moonlight, and it shrieks a god-awful scream!

Eight feet!

With loud snapping and breaking of tree limbs, it leaps high into the air and lands on the roof’s edge!

Four feet!

I slip on the icy porch, skinning my elbows and knees!

Two feet!

It drops to the ground and scurries on the snow. Yellow drool pours out of its mouth, prominently standing out in contrast to its obsidian flesh.

One foot!

I lay against the door. The doorknob slipping in my wet and trembling fingers! Hissing is growing louder and stronger!

Zero!

I pull myself inside and past the door’s frame, slam the door and lock it! Not a second later, a crash of something slamming into the wooden door booms across the dark house.

I lay with my back against the door in case it tries to force its way through, but no more sounds come from the other side of the door. I turn and slowly lift my head to peer out through the window. Our eyes meet, only a thin pane of glass separating us. It glares at me intently with six unblinking marble eyes, then in a flash, it’s gone.

That was two weeks ago. It still comes most nights; not every night, but most nights. No one has come looking for me. I am too scared to go outside. I can feel it watching me from the tree line. I’ve nailed boards over as many windows as possible. Every day, before sunset, I check every window and every door to make sure they are locked or blocked. It will eventually get inside. It’s getting smarter. It was smart enough to encase my truck in a sheet of silk, trapping me here. The delicate webbing is thin and fibrous, but strong like steel.

It won’t be long before it gets in. It’s getting smarter. How much longer will it take before it realizes it can easily tear through my defenses and take what it wants?

It won’t be long before it gets in. It’s getting smarter.

Story 3

They Mostly Come at Night
(source)

“There are no such thing as monsters.” That’s what my mommy used to say. She would tuck me in to bed, make sure that my favorite doll, Casey was in my arms and tell me, “There is nothing to be scared of; there are no monsters, no real monsters.”

She would whisper these words to me mostly at night because that’s when the monsters liked to come out. At night when the walls would vibrate from machinery humming in the service tunnels and sub-basements below. I needed to hear those words when the wind would scream and howl from the unstable air currents and unpredictable weather patterns that came with an atmosphere being changed by a terraforming station. The turbines from dozens of filtration exchange towers ensured the sky was never still as it took in the cold, alien environment and infused hot oxygen-nitrogen gasses into the air. Just like the song my daddy would sing with me, “Bad air goes in, good air comes out.”

I would need reminding one more time when the giant atmospheric processing station brought the rain by releasing electrical discharges into the clouds. That was when the monsters scared me the most. The lightning and thunder were the sound they made when they tried to get inside. The wind was the monster’s voice, and the rain was its nails, clicking and tapping at the windows of my living quarters. My mommy would come and make it all better and say, “There are no such thing as monsters.”

Monsters killed my mommy and daddy.

They were real. Monsters were real, and they were here. The grownups promised they would keep us safe. They told us everything would be all right, and help was on its way. They lied. Our little settlement was so far away; it would take up to two weeks for the nearest outpost to reach us. The monsters were smart and patient. When there was only a few of them, they quietly picked off the families living in the habitat modules on the outskirts of the colony. The ones whose disappearance wouldn’t be noticed right away. As their numbers increased, the monsters began to hunt in packs. It wasn’t long before there was enough of them and they didn’t need to hide anymore. The monsters were coming. They were coming for each and every last one of us.

The central air processing station was just outside the colony’s perimeter. It was the primary terraforming control center for the other automated terraforming substations spread across the small planet’s surface. The majority of the grown-ups spent most of their waking hours here, including my mommy. They were all doing their part to make this tiny world breathable. “Building Better Worlds,” like all the signs and videos say.

The monsters crashed through the ceiling and tore through the floor grating; catching everyone by surprise. Only a week ago, there was one hundred and fifty-eight of us. After the attack on the processing station, we had lost eighty-four people. Those of us left, gathered together for safety. We had to move quickly. We knew what the monsters did to you if they took you. We knew that for every one of us taken, their numbers would grow. We knew we didn’t have much time.

The monsters grew so fast. We learned that from my daddy. He was the first. They thought I couldn’t hear. They thought I wouldn’t know. But I saw it all. My daddy was kept in the infirmary, and I would visit him often without him knowing. Hidden within the ventilation shaft, I would see him in the morning and whisper a “good night” before going to bed. He was just talking to the doctor when he cried out in pain, and they rushed him out of the room.

The grownups may have ruled the corridors and hallways, but the kids owned the vents and shafts. That was our playground! That was where we would play games like Monster Maze, and I was the best! The other kids were jealous because I could fit into places the others couldn’t. They couldn’t memorize the turns and corners like me. I could go anywhere in the complex and never be seen, not once. So finding my way to where they took my daddy was a breeze. I didn’t need to remember which shaft to take through the winding and turning tunnels—the screams echoed loud and clear.

I followed the sounds to the grilled screen that would allow me to peer into the medical compartment. I made myself look, but in the end, I closed my eyes to the horror. The screams hurt my ears. He was in so much pain. I covered my mouth to hold in a scream when a deep snap of bone startled everyone in the room. My daddy fell quiet and still. Suddenly, I could hear his body thrash and convulse violently, and the medical personnel began yelling in confusion and fear. They tried to hold him down, but the convulsions were too strong. People gasped and screamed at the sound of a loud crunch and snaps followed by what sounded like a bucket of water spilling to the ground and spraying the walls. My daddy’s screams were no more than wet gurgles by now and then I heard it. A loud and piercing screech came from something in the room, something that was angry, evil, and alien. It hissed loudly and scurried violently in the opposite direction, knocking over tools and equipment as it made its escape.

The last of us gathered in the safest place left, the Primary Operations Center. My daddy once told me it was the very first building in the colony. The original settlers had lived in here back when they couldn’t breathe the air and the Operations Center’s thick walls, and many pressurized doors protected them from the freezing temperatures and poisonous atmosphere.

The adults put the kids in the center of the complex on the top level. They said the Medical section was the safest place for us. We listened as the grown-ups did everything possible to block off entryways, weld shut each blast door and close off every service tunnel. All access points were barricaded, and all the main entry gates were sealed shut. When all was said and done, there was nothing left to do but wait in the silence and fear the approach of nighttime, because everyone knows that the monsters mostly come at night, mostly.

The planetoid rotates once every fifty-seven hours; that makes for a very long night. Here, when the darkness falls, it feels like it will never end. The monsters didn’t come the first night or the second night, but they were there. Their large bodies pressed and slid against the outer bulkheads. Powerful talons scraped against steel and drooling jaws extended and clenched. A piercing shriek would call out and echo in the distance now and then. The monster’s cries would startle us, causing screams of fright and tears from most of the children.

We continued to wait.

It started on the third day with a metallic “thunk,” “thunk,” “thunk,” from the North Gate. It echoed throughout the corridors. Anything not bolted down, rattled and shook. I could see relief wash over some of the adult’s faces. The waiting was finally over. The beating at the massive door, three levels down, grew louder in intensity. The children were gathered together and hurriedly rushed into medical isolation bays only used for storage. I didn’t like this room. Even though it housed many rows of containers and equipment and good places to hide, there was no vents or shaft in here; there was no way to escape.

We watched from the monitoring station that had been set up within the medical bay. The adults began readying themselves. Most had small handguns and charges used for geological excavation. There were even a few crude flame throwers. The strikes to the massive door became relentless.

The pounding grew louder from massive blows now coming from the West Gate.

The monsters were slamming into the steel door so hard and so fast, I could swear I felt the floor vibrate. They screamed with such anger from behind the barriers that blocked their way.

The sounds of pounds and bangs became deafening. Claws and talons were now beating at the East Gate.

The echoes of metal being hit with massive, inhuman force now came at us from all directions when impacts fell against the main, South Gate.

The bending and tearing of metal were heard throughout the complex and shrieks of victory roared out from alien lungs. We watched the blurry, dark shapes fill the monitor screens. Screams and hisses echoed from the lower levels as they tore down every barrier or obstacle. They filled the hallways, scurrying on the ceiling, walls, and floor. They were coming for us.

The monsters fell on the people defending our last and only defense like a wall of black water. The grown-ups opened fire, tossed their explosives and sprayed fire from flamethrowers. Smoke filled the room making it hard to see. Powerful arms shot out from the ceiling, and long fingers grabbed at anyone within their reach. The monsters poured into the cramped space, slamming into the people. Screams of terror and breaking of bone came over the speakers. Images of blood and flesh filled our eyes from the small video monitors. Despite the wounds and injuries inflicted on them, it was painfully obvious that none of the adults had been killed. Every last one of them was alive when they were dragged away screaming into the darkness.

It was over quickly. Soon, every last grown-up in Operations was gone. Dangling legs lifted into the air vents disappeared. The monsters gathered around those who struggled or were capable of fending them off. They were cornered and maimed by teeth and claws. Hands or feet were torn and severed from their body. Obviously, it was easier to manage and carry off their prey if it was crippled. Screams for help and pleas for death slowly faded into the distance.

The remaining grown-ups sealed the hatchway to the main access door for our section and stood between us and the approaching nightmares. They peeled away the hatch as if it was tin foil, and they were at the view ports and observation windows that lined the medical bay, hitting and scratching at the dura-glass. They shattered it in no time and began swarming into the medical bay. Gunshots rung loud and screams from adults and children came from all directions. Monsters were leaping through the air, pouncing on any victims within their sight. They crawled on the walls and ceiling, plucking running children off their feet by their hair or even by their entire head from large, six-fingered claws.

I cowered under an overturned medical bed when I locked eyes with a boy who couldn’t have been more than seven. His arms were locked in a death grip around a support beam. Two monsters pounced on him and began pulling and jerking him violently. Amazingly, he maintained his grip around the metal beam and would not let go. I screamed in horror when they broke his arms and pried him off of that beam. His face had no expression or emotion. His limp arms trailed loosely behind him when they carried him away. He never broke his stare on me. He did not scream—not once.

A woman flew across the room, smashing into a large fume hood to the right and rear of the large room. Her broken body lay over the destroyed workstation. The impact had toppled over the instrument and dislodged its upper panel, revealing a narrow ventilation duct within the wall. In a flash, I remembered the school day-trip last month to see the scientists. It was the same type of instrument. The one used for dangerous chemicals. It was a dura-glass enclosure with two access openings for the hands. They would stick their hands through the openings attached to thick gloves and pour their chemicals from the inside without breathing the fumes. The scientist said the fumes were then removed from the complex by the exhaust fans.

I got to my feet and dove for the tiny opening. Three monsters, hunched on all fours, charged from the destroyed viewport. I entered the duct only to discover it immediately went from ground level to a vent that went straight up the wall. I pressed my body as far as I could to avoid the claws that were reaching in for me. It pushed itself relentlessly into the small opening, wedging itself further into the duct. The slick coat of slime glistened on the claws that were inching closer. The tips of its nails were nicking my clothes. I could feel the pull of the fabric grow firmer each time before the threads would break.

I had one chance; I stood and placed one hand on each side of the vent, hopped off the ground and pressed my feet against the walls to hold me up. I shimmied up the shaft bit by bit. Carefully, but as quick as I could manage, I had made it more than halfway up the duct’s distance when the scraping and beating of claws filled my ears from below. When I lifted myself into the junction, I twisted myself into the opening and briefly my eyes fell on the monster beneath me.

I had never seen one this close. Its arm was extended and wedged under its massive body. The elongated head was cocked at an abnormal angle to face me. Transparent lips were quivering and curled over long and shiny fangs. Thick, clear drool poured out of its open mouth. It didn’t even struggle anymore; it just looked at me. It had no eyes, but it still looked at me. A low and deep hiss began to build from within its chest until it was a piercing shriek! It was speaking to me. It… it was trying to tell me something. It was screaming how much it hated me. I turned from the shrieks of rage and quickly made my way into the ventilation system. It wasn’t long before I knew exactly where I was. I disappeared into the network of ducts, shafts, and pipes—the maze I knew so well.

I have been all by myself for two weeks now. This tiny sub-compartment cradled in an entanglement of pipe and support strut beams of the environmental control system has become my home. The ventilation fan spins above me; the monsters keep their distance from its blades. The metal beams and large pipes keep me far out of the reach of any monster’s claws. I only leave my haven to scavenge for food. I avoid the main conduits in the ventilation system and stick to the smaller secondary shafts where the monster cannot fit.

The monsters rule the corridors and hallways, but I own the vents and shafts. That is my playground! That was where I used to play games like Monster Maze, and I was the best! The monsters are angry because I can fit into places they can’t. I have every turn and corner memorized. I can go anywhere in this complex and never be seen; not once.

The monsters can’t see me.

Monsters.

My mommy used to tell me there were no monsters, no real monsters; but there are.

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