The Mold

November 17, 1994

Hello, journal. I have noticed some black substance growing in my house. It's currently growing. I think it is a mold of some sorts, but I don't know. I am going to call a cleaner, or something, it looks so dark it almost scares me.

 

November 18, 1994

It has been 2 days now. I hired a maid to come clean it, it was gone within hours. But now it’s back. And it’s bigger. I may just be a little paranoid, but I swear I could have seen it move for a second. When it did move it looked like it was a little slimy. I don’t know. I will write more when something else notable happens.

 

November 23, 1994

I’m back. I woke up with a sick feeling in my stomach. I went to the bathroom and started coughing. It wasn’t much, but blood flew out. I’m currently on hold for calling exterminators and maybe a doctor. I will be renting a hotel until it’s ok. I will write in my journal then to keep me comfortable. I have to go, they’re back.

 

November 24, 1994

I’ve just gotten my luggage in, exterminators say they estimate it will be gone in around a week. It may not be the best hotel, but at least it has a pool. I’ve invited Mom over, and just told her the news, she says she will keep me company, so I take back what I said about writing.

 

December 1, 1994

They were one day off, I have my house back now. I still can see the mold, but I have a good feeling it’s mostly gone. They told me they worked on it around 5 hours a day, with a 20 minute break in between for lunch. I’m very happy now, but I have an uneasy feeling, like something is sitting behind me, but I will never see it.

 

December 2, 1994

We’re now getting into the holiday spirit, but this mold is ruining it, it’s took up about 10 inches of the wall now, this is disgusting, I no longer have the sick feeling though, I don't know if this is lucky, or a sign that I need to get out while I still can feel like this. I’m scared, but I have Christmas to comfort me. I’m not gonna call the exterminators now. I don’t want to bug them. I might have to study this on my own.

 

December 3, 1994

Ok, I think I made it worse, this morning I woke up and had the urge to vomit, I did. It’s now took up a fraction of my wall, I’m feeling drowsy and I don’t know what to do, I will find a doctor, but I do not want to bug the exterminators, I also do not want to spend an extra eight hundred dollars renting the hotel again.

 

December 13, 1994

The doctor told me that I should take some time to lie down, I didn’t want that mold again, so I just slept at a friend’s house, I didn’t tell him why, though. I just told him, word for word “Yo, man, I need a place to stay, I just don’t feel comfortable telling you, so are you alright with that?”. Yeah, not the best choice of words, I think he may be a little suspicious, even if we are friends. I’m gonna notify him why, but I’m gonna tell him not to tell anybody.

 

December 14, 1994

Hi, it’s his friend, Jacob, he let me write in his journal, but only because we’re buds. I don’t know what to say, I really feel bad for him and feel like telling someone, but I know he doesn’t want that. I’m not sure how I’ll tell him.

 

December 15, 1994

Me again. I saw what Jacob wrote above, he told me that he could keep it a secret, and to let him know if it gets worse. I checked my room out again. It’s horrible. As soon as I walked in I got a head and stomach ache, 2 of 4 walls in there were took up of mold, this is horrible. I’m calling Jacob. We need to fix this.

 

December 16, 1994

Me and Jacob tried to fix it, we did. It’s currently dissolving, we put a mix of sugar and salt on it, it worked somehow, we just did something random and it worked. But, of course, this is probably a sign it will get even worse, every time it shrinks it just gets worse. I’m going to sleep in my room tonight, but not quite sleep, I’m going to study it and write it on a notebook piece of paper, if my study is useful, I will tape it in.

 

I have found out that the mold only grows when it’s victim is stressed or is afraid. I must fight it off, I have not found out how it shrinks, other than the sugar and the salt, though. I found this out because I was just trapped in my mind, nothing was happening, I was worried for my health condition when I saw it grow.

 

December 20, 1994

It’s been a few days, nothing has happened to the mold, I think I’ve finally found a way for me to fight it off.

 

December 21, 1994

I know this is why it grows, but I can't help but worry, it’s grew to my bed, now. I’m going to finally call exterminators, I can’t handle this anymore. I am going to have to throw out my beloved bed, our family has owned it for many years.

 

December 25, 1994

It is Christmas eve, I am in Jacob’s house right now, the town might have to crush the house as a whole. They are still giving me chances to keep my house, though.

 

January 1, 1995

This mold is uncontrollable, now. I slept on my couch, the mold is now on my bedroom’s door knob, I tried touching it, and it burnt.

 

January 2, 1995

I just woke up with cuts, what’s going on? I had not even left the house more than to get a phone and food, and I hadn’t even been touched then. The mold has also infested my entire bedroom, I’m leaving for the night.

 

January 3, 1995

I came back to my house, the mold spread to the living room, this is chaos, i’m not going to notify anyone, I can’t let my beloved home go, I CAN’T!

 

January 4, 1995

Jacob has told me I’ve been acting different, I’M NOT ACTING DIFFERENT, AM I? He just doesn’t understand the pain i’m going through, that idiot doesn’t know! Who cares for the mold being there? I NEED MY HOME!

 

It is his mother, he hasn’t told you his name yet, but his name is Allen, I’ve took his journal from him, he’s acting a lot different, like he wrote earlier.

 

January 6, 1995

Now Mom? You believe me, don’t you, journal? I’m not insane or anything, right?

 

January 7, 1995

Oh, boy. I don’t know what happened those last few days. Could this mold somehow be driving me crazy? I just became “normal” again after eating a few chocolate bars. So that’s 2 times sugar has helped with a problem with this mold.

 

January 8, 1995

I swear I could hear the mold...talk? I’ve been feeling like I had a hangover this morning, even though I don't drink. Everything in my body is painful and i’ve been acting different. I’m gonna go stock up on some sugar again. That’s what helped last time.

 

January 10, 1995

I’m so dumb! Of course i’m not acting different, haha, I need to stop joking in such serious times like this! The mold is totally normal, just a few changes. It has been getting smaller.

 

January 11, 1995

My mom force fed me, by me I mean different me. I’m back to normal now. I’m gonna start eating a lot of sugar, not too much. I think it may work as an “immune system” against the mold.

January 12, 1995

This has totally worked! It’s almost like there was no mold at all. Of course, there isn’t anymore. Just a little speck.

 

January 13, 1995

No, there is plenty mold left. I’m scared, we can’t do anything about this situation, every time I try to call for help or I try to text for help or anything, this crazy me comes back. I don’t know what I do when i’m irregular, all the information I get is from what crazy me wrote…

Haha, just joking! Of course I’m regular all the time. The mold is already gone, there’s nothing to fear about. Man, I’m just gonna keep on making this joke over and over, aren't I?

 

January 14, 1995

This is Jacob. Allen passed away last night, police presume it was the mold that killed him. There was no evidence except for this journal. Police think it’s not possible that he could possibly been possessed, and they think this is a type of multi personality disorder. I don’t know. His mom is currently crying and I’m here to comfort her. This is a day I’m sure gonna remember. Losing a friend, because of a house that he just couldn't get rid of.

 

February 14, 1995

This is Jacob. This is the last I will write in this journal, unless something else related to the mold happens. I attended Allen’s funeral today, I brought this journal with to bury with him. He sure loved to write. I may keep it with myself, though. So he doesn’t have to remember this in the afterlife.

 

May 16, 1995

A few months have passed, and something I didn’t tell on the day of Allen’s death. When I entered the crematorium, I swore I saw his eye twitch.

Hey! It's me. The writer of this horrible creepypasta. So...like I stated, I get how bad it is. So I'll take constructive criticism. Just don't be the guy that deletes a page because of how horrible it is. Thank you.

~The bad writer