Hello everybody, I hope that you're all doing well.

Welcome to the dark and teary world of Creep's Ghost.

Join us today as we delve into the deepest, darkest corners of the internet, exploring the unexplainable end of the macabre.

This week's spine-chilling tails will keep you on the edge of your seat.

So let's get into it as we drift further into Mr. Creep's mind.

Something terrifying happened during my night shift at Walmart, written by Horror Writer 1717.

It was a long and lonely road, straight as a weed stalk and dry like you wouldn't believe.

My car sat idling on the yellow line, burping out exhaust as the sun

and the bleeding on the horizon. I had come a long way with further yet to go, but something

in me, something itchy and unnerving said that it was time to stop.

I looked at the words glowing on my phone.

It was a prompt for some writer's group or something.

Sounds like something King would write, I thought.

And we all know what a hack he's become.

I wish I could churn out trash like he doesn't make millions from it.

But I'm no writer.

Clean up on ILA 15.

Blared over the radio clipped to my hip.

I knew that it was my turn, but still, I glanced around the break room for anyone that I could get to do it for me.

Unfortunately, there was no one.

While I had been zoned out, staring at my phone like a zombie, everybody else had finished

their break and laughed, which meant that I had something to look forward to after cleaning

...