I know it's not mainstream or relevant anymore, but I still like Creepypastas. A lot. After I first heard of Slender Man, it didn't take long for me to find out that he was but a tiny piece of a larger puzzle. There were a lot of stories with many m...
A/N:I know I've been constantly updating my stories recently, mostly because I'm somewhat of a perfectionist when it comes to these stories. Speaking of which, I realized that like Jason the Toymaker, Candy Pop is a very recognizable character in the Creepypasta fandom. When I first saw him, I thought of something like, "Ugh, great another gay-pasta", but then I looked at the story "The Purple Balloon", and I found something I did not expect: It's actually halfway decent. I mean, the premise itself isn't bad in the slightest, but I found some rather unfortunate flaws that prevented the story from being legitimately good. As someone who feels at least unsettled by clowns/jesters, I didn't really feel intimidated by Candy Pop, mostly because he appears into the story out of nowhere, and most of the sentence structures and punctuations feel really awkward, preventing me from getting immersed into the story. I decided to fix that issue to at least make it a little better. I hope you find some differences between this story and the original, and please comment down below and tell me what you could've done to make the story better. Enjoy!
There was a time that made me wish I could just run away and never look back. I wanted to scream, but I could only cry internally from all the stress my family caused me. My stepmother always went at my father's neck like a rabid dog. There is no peace, and sometimes I wish I could just crawl into a hole and never come out again. Every day, I desperately prayed to God that things would at least get a little better, but it never did.
The only thing I looked forward to was sleeping. The constant oppression and neglect from my stepmother only increased with each passing day. Sometimes, I couldn't help but lie in bed and wonder if my family or friends would even miss me if I went away. Would people cry, or just move on?
The only love I remember feeling was from my father, but lately, things have taken a turn for the worse. The fights have gotten more intense, and there were days I would see him crying, praying for a miracle to happen.
I've got a secret: Ever since I gave up hope, I've been having the same dream every night. It wasn't a nightmare, but it was strange, nonetheless. I always find myself in total darkness, but with a single spotlight hanging over me, and the floor is made of cobblestone. I always look for a way out, but there is none. When the realization sets that I'm stuck in there, a feeling of despair and hopelessness overcomes me, and I fall to the stone floor crying. Soon, I tremble and groan as if I'm in pain. I don't feel anything physically, but I always feel like I wish I was dead.
Then, I hear the sound of a melody being played quietly on a music box, and the feeling of despair goes away. I'm able to get up and then look around. In another part of the area, I see a floating, perfectly still purple balloon with a smiling face, and the long string is just inches above the ground, lit up by another spotlight. The second I see that balloon, a feeling of peace and calmness falls upon me. I move closer to the balloon, ready to touch it, but when my hand inches closer to it, it suddenly bursts in my face and I startle awake.
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