Creepypasta Stories And Rituals

Allison

I have no idea how much longer I'll be able to do this. If I can no longer continue my aimless escape from simply running out of money, I could at least count my blessings. It's too difficult for me to say in confidence why the visions I've been having are persistent. Either they're a way for her to "salt the meat" per Se, or a way for her to persuade me to keep my distance. However, they've become increasingly more vivid, so the best hypothesis is probably that she's been toying with me. Calling for help doesn't necessarily appear to be the smartest choice. Why? I don't know if there are others like her, and such a claim is too far fetched for the police to believe.

I really should've just kept to myself. If only... Yeah, it wouldn't have ended up like this. Why was I so stupid? It's probably just that one person though. Otherwise, I may have seen more of them in the visions by now.

My first encounter with her was just earlier in Autumn this year. Of all times, it was during my first semester at Dourmsburg University. Where I first met this person, if that's even an accurate term, was a place most people like myself would go because of the necessity. Like every other freshman in college, it was mandatory that I'd attend English 100 at some point to obtain a degree. Walking inside the classroom for the first time, it was already filled with people my age who I never met in my life. She was no exception.

Just as I sat down in this room full of strangers, the professor, with an extra dash of enthusiasm in his voice, introduced himself as "Professor Robinson." Probably as an exercise for the students to begin getting to know one another, we would stand up one by one, tell the class our names, and one thing about ourselves. The teacher grinned, raised one eyebrow at me, and said that since I was late, I'd go first.

Standing up, the small sea of faces turned to me. With a tiny quiver in my jaw, I told the crowd, "Um, hi. My name is Billy Wisenor, and I don't know anyone here." Sitting down, my eyes caught several other students smirking and nodding. Other members of the class stood up as well, giving their names, and telling us things like their majors, hobbies, and more irrelevant facts about themselves.

The last of them, just one row in front and two seats to the left of where I sat, was more hesitant to stand than the rest. Where some of them took maybe a second to rise before the class, this ebony-haired student took a few seconds longer. Looking around the room as though she was scanning the room, she told us, "Hello." She turned her head around the room once more, looking at us all individually. "I guess, um, I'm Allison Baker." I've been noted in the past for my keen sense of hearing, so it's not certain to me if others caught her murmuring, "I, I think... Allison."

Usually, the lack of eloquence would've made me feel no such thing towards her. However, from the second when she first stood before us, I felt a strange fixation on this person. It was nothing remotely romantic, or even sexual. There was absolutely no desire on my part to even touch. It was her very lack of eloquence that repelled me from the thought. The attraction was more "magnetic," so to speak. Somehow, she implanted something into my brain. It was unnatural because I've never felt this form of magnetism before. There were no urges to do, but only to follow.

At the second, stuttered mention of her name, her face began to redden. Initially, it seemed to be simple shyness. Her behavior sprouted confusion in me, and probably the other students there at what followed. We watched as she clenched her temples, and began to hyperventilate. With her extremely heavy breaths came tears going down her cheeks. Covering her face, she ran out of the room. Giving expressions of awe and confusion, the rest of us turned to one another, as if someone would have an answer to the obvious question.