Ticky Toby

Toby Turner was a 14 year old kid, and he had this disorder when he couldn’t stop ticking everytime he talks. The kids made fun of him for it, they kept calling him Ticky Toby. A lot of kids picked on him for fun, and he was annoyed of it. His sister and his mom always tried to keep his spirits up, and they always made him feel better. They always said, “You are unique because those ticks is what makes you you,” he smiled after that.

His father just rarely cared for him, saying he was a disappointment, that always brought him down. Toby, his mom and sister would always go get ice cream after school to cheer him up from a bad day… which was everyday. Toby couldn’t have been more happy if it wasn’t for his mom and sister.

One tragic day, Toby’s mom, his sister and his father were taking a drive one day while he was in school, the mother and father was off work and the sister had no school. The father was the one driving that day when the wreck happened, Toby was notified at his school that his family got in an accident, his mother and sister were both dead. He was speechless, “What about my father?” he said, they said he was ok, the most he had was a broken arm. Toby sitting there speechless as tears ran down his face, he let’s out whales of crying pain.

Toby got to his house, his father says nothing to him about his mother or his sister dying in the crash… he thinks to him self, “This was no accident,” he went up to his room, balling him self to sleep. The next day was as usual, being made fun of, being picked on, only when he went home… his mom nor his sister was there to give him support, no trips to the ice cream store to cheer him up. Only a dead beat dad that gives him even more crap every day and night.

For three months Toby had went through this till one day he snapped. He went into the garage and grabbed an axe from the wall. He walked back into his house, up the stairs and stopped at his dad’s bedroom door. He slowly turned the door knob and pushed the door open slowly, as it quietly creaked, one foot enters the room, then the next foot, slowly he walks towards his dad bed and stops at his dad’s bed with his dad in it. He raises the axe up high and… well let’s just say it was the end for dear old dad.

He lowers the axe and drops it on the floor, he looks at his blood stained hands then started to laugh hysterically. He drops to his knees still laughing then he crawls to his dad’s gun cabinet, opens it and takes the revolver. He closes the cabinet and holds the gun up to his head, thinking he should end it all now, then everything went black around, the gun dropped to the floor, and he looked behind him.

There stood a dark tall pale faceless figure standing over him, with no mouth he says to him, “Toby… this isn’t the end for you, this is just the beginning,” and Toby was thinking he was right…

  • Liddy Tiddies

    This needs some editing and refining, most definitely.

  • Simon

    Look, I’m not too much into the more popular creepypastas, but wasn’t there already a Ticky Toby? What’s the point of making a generic crappy retelling of his story?

  • C4Cohesive

    Toby Turner? So we’re talking about Tobuscus here?

  • Puddin Tane

    Needs heavy editing! Very painful read. 1 star