For The Few
I’m the easiest to talk to because I go by so many different names. Every person in every country has heard of me, and spoken of me when things are at their very worst. And I’m so easy to call upon. All you have to do is ask. No ritual to adhere to. No prayer. No personal relationship. Just ask. Once, earnestly. I’m ever so popular. I’m in your music, your news, and even in your food. I’m Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Haphaestus and Nietschze. I was there, guiding the hand of Shakespeare, Dahmer and Spielberg alike. You’ve seen me, time and again, now an old man, then a little girl. You bought groceries from me the other day, actually. Hell, if you want to be REALLY personal, some of you make love to me on a regular basis. You’re not bad, either. I like you. I am mother to some of you, Father to others, and I am proud of the way you turned out. But here’s the pitch. I am powerful, and you are not. I have legions, and you are alone. I can make you mine for all eternity, if you like. And it’s so easy you could almost do it by mistake. All you have to do is ask. Not even in words. Just..want it. Want me. Want to join me. If you aren’t convinced by my influence, turn on the T.V, and look into the eyes of newscasters while they lie to you. Go to church, and look into the eyes of a sermonising sinner, casting the first heavy stone at the congregation. Hell, look into the eyes of a friend, a loved one, or a stranger. Most of them are mine anyway. Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.