accidents and Disappearances and Mental Illness and Witchcraft body horror Chilling Tales for Dark Nights curses Deaths locations Locations and Sites madness Magic murders news Occult Paranoia paranormal premonitions strange Strange and Unexplained tattoos The Dead Canary unexplained weird

The Hourglass Tattoo – Creepypasta

The Swing - Creepypasta


Share this creepypasta on social media!

Estimated studying time — 9 minutes

My buddies and I have been all the time making an attempt to dare one another into doing silly stuff. Usually, it concerned us all getting tremendous drunk, then making options. If all of us agreed someone needed to do one thing, they must do it…or they’d need to have a drink from “the Bottle.” The Bottle was a former bottle of vodka that now contained any type of nasty, vile fluids that we collected over time. One sip was assured to make anybody hurl.

Wanting again on it now, my buddies and I have been dicks. However issues undoubtedly would have been higher if I had simply drank from the Bottle that night time.

The night time I’m speaking about was the night time I used to be chosen to get a tattoo…from the lowest-rated place Yelp needed to supply. I by no means needed a tattoo. Everybody else in our group had at the least one, with Frank coated within the issues, however I had all the time been a holdout. That was why I used to be chosen. Being tremendous drunk, as I stated, I used to be much less prepared to say no. It didn’t assist that I used to be the final contributor to the Bottle and undoubtedly didn’t need my lips anyplace close to it.

It didn’t take lengthy to discover a place on-line. We had by no means seen a spot get so many adverse critiques and nonetheless be in enterprise…with out it being a trolling prank, anyway. These seemed real, starting from being stabbed with the needles to getting the improper tattoo to getting a staph an infection from leaning towards a stain on the wall.

The blokes thought it was good for me.

I’d by no means truly been to a enterprise that had its entrance entrance are available from an alley, however this did. Everybody else waited again at my place whereas Frank drove me there, to ensure I did the deed proper. He sat within the foyer with me till I used to be referred to as again behind a yellow curtain.

The man doing my tattoo appeared like an ex-biker who had just lately gotten into voodoo. He wore a bandanna on his head (in all probability to cover the truth that was going bald, almost definitely), a Killing Joke jean jacket (the band, not the Batman story), and had a beard lengthy sufficient to cover gravy stains on his belt buckle. On the shelf behind him have been a set of painted skulls (these calavera ones from the Day of the Lifeless festivals) and vials full of used needles, recent needles, and at the least a couple of shrunken heads. I hoped they have been fakes, however they have been actually leathery wanting.

He seemed me over, after which pointed to a binder filled with designs to select from. I flipped by means of them, in search of something uncommon sufficient that I’d by no means seen it on anybody earlier than, however not so lame that I’d remorse my determination within the morning…although I used to be nonetheless drunk sufficient that I’d in all probability remorse something at this level.

I lastly discovered one, in the direction of the center…an hourglass. An actual Goth-looking hourglass, with spider webs and curled, pointy edges, very Tim Burton-looking. I gave it to the man, pointed to the again of my neck (proper the place a pleasant enterprise shirt would cowl it up), and ready myself.

It took three hours. It shouldn’t have taken three hours for one thing as small as I obtained, however it did. Each second the needle was operating harm, and harm dangerous. However after sweating, swearing, and plotting revenge on all of my buddies one after the other, he stated it was completed. I thanked him, paid him (although the tip was definitely smaller than he in all probability anticipated), and went to go see Frank.

Frank, mad that he’d waited for therefore lengthy, requested to see it on the best way again to the automotive. I pulled again my shirt and angled my neck. “So, what do you assume?”

He checked out it. “Christ, dude, I knew it needed to be huge, however wow, that’s dedication. I can’t consider you’d get one thing that disgusting and sensible wanting.”

Disgusting? Practical? Perhaps he’d had extra to drink within the foyer. It was a silly hourglass; reasonable I might purchase, however disgusting?

We acquired in his automotive and began driving again. With my neck itching, I requested if he had a mirror within the automotive so I might check out it, perhaps even rub a few of that greasy lotion the artist gave me to maintain it from drying out. He stated there is perhaps a sign mirror or one thing within the glove compartment; I checked, and he was proper. I raised it up to take a look at my hourglass.

It was darkish in Frank’s automotive, however even I might inform one thing was incorrect. My hourglass, which had seemed wonderful once I was within the tattoo parlor, wasn’t an hourglass anymore. It couldn’t have been. It was too huge… it stretched throughout my neck utterly. I might have by no means gotten a tattoo like that.

However there it was. And I might see why Frank stated it was disgusting.

It was a automotive wreck. A very disturbing one, with twisted metallic and a corpse hanging out of the windshield. Blood and glass in all places.

What within the hell was I taking a look at?

Frank should’ve observed my look of shock. “What, did the man provide the incorrect one? I assume that’s why they’re so low rated. You actually obtained to watch out, I virtually had the identical factor occur to me on the one on my forearm right here. You understand the man thought I needed a Garfield and never a snow leopard? It might’ve been embarrass…”

I by no means heard him end. He was minimize off by a loud roar as one thing smashed into the automotive. I felt it spin via the air, however I remembered nothing else earlier than waking up on the street. It could’t have been a very long time, as a result of there have been no emergency automobiles round. However I stood up, with solely a uninteresting ache in my arm the one damage I might really feel. I used to be fortunate, contemplating I had been sporting my seat belt and but had nonetheless been thrown from the automotive.

Frank wasn’t so fortunate. The automotive lay in a puddle of leaking fluids, and once I got here nearer I noticed he was hanging out of the driving force aspect window. He was shredded by glass, and never shifting.

The best way he was hanging seemed acquainted, and the longer I checked out his ruined physique, the extra I noticed what I used to be taking a look at.

The tattoo on my neck. The wreck appeared simply just like the tattoo.

I used to be checked by the emergency personnel who arrived, who confirmed that I had bruised my arm and gotten a couple of superficial cuts. Frank had been killed on impression. The truck driver who had hit us had fled the scene and was caught a bit of methods up the street. Factor is, if he had stayed he wouldn’t have been at fault; Frank had run a cease signal.

I didn’t speak to anyone for awhile. I wasn’t positive if I used to be simply in mourning, or if I used to be nonetheless scared about my tattoo. Because the night time of the accident, it was clearly again to being an hourglass. I couldn’t be certain, however I assumed there was extra sand within the backside than there had been when it was first carried out.

The night time of Frank’s funeral (closed casket, clearly), the blokes and I received collectively to have some drinks in his honor at an area microbrew.

Eric was the primary to keep in mind that I had gotten the tattoo, and needed to see it. I let him, however I used to be reluctant.

“Dude, sick! What the hell? Who’d even allow you to get that?”

My abdomen twisted. I needed to see what he had seen. I excused myself and went to the toilet.

I nonetheless had the mirror from Frank’s automotive. It had survived the crash, and I held onto it simply in case. Wanting in each mirrors, I noticed the tattoo had modified once more.

It confirmed a person whose head had been smashed to a pulp, however the physique was nonetheless holding a glass raised in toast.

I ran again out to the group, and advised them perhaps we should always go on residence and meet again up tomorrow. All of them agreed, apart from Eric, who stated he’d name for an Uber or one thing, that he needed a pair extra drinks.

I assumed perhaps that if I left, he’d be okay. Perhaps if my neck was cursed or one thing, it will depart him alone if I received as distant as I might.

I went to sleep. The subsequent morning, I acquired a frantic name from Jeff. It was Eric. He had gone lacking. A number of hours later, Jeff referred to as once more. Eric was lifeless.

He had apparently gotten blind stinking drunk and began getting loud and screaming that he needed to battle somebody. He obtained kicked out, and he thought it might be a terrific concept to stroll residence by himself. He handed out on the railroad tracks. The practice hit his head and by no means even slowed down. They discovered him early within the morning, however it took awhile to seek out out as a result of they wanted fingerprints to determine him.

I checked my tattoo. Hourglass once more. Extra sand was undoubtedly within the backside than there was.

I went again to the tattoo parlor and requested concerning the man who gave it to me. I came upon he’d been fired. Seems he falsified his software type. The identify and handle he gave weren’t his. He had taken his stuff and left earlier than anybody might name the police. Nobody knew who he actually was.

After Eric’s funeral, I didn’t exit consuming. I stayed at house. I discovered myself watching the tattoo. It was the one factor I might do.

It was a mistake to be alone, although. My remaining associates determined to verify in on me and ensure all the things was OK. Jeff introduced The Bottle with him, to not drink from, however simply to recollect higher occasions. After which he made a remark asking if I acquired the tattoo labored on, as a result of he didn’t keep in mind it being large enough to see excessive of my shirt.

No. I wouldn’t let it harm anybody else. I might cease it.

It was the stupidest factor I had ever achieved with out being drunk. I grabbed The Bottle, and smashed it on the desk. Everybody shouted as I ran out of the room and as much as the toilet, the place the mirrors have been nonetheless arrange, the place I watched each day to see what form the tattoo would take subsequent. I noticed it was not the hourglass, however didn’t take a look at what it was now. I locked the toilet door, held tight to the gooey, liquid coated fringe of the Bottle’s neck and began slicing.

It harm. It harm so dangerous. Nevertheless it needed to go.

I vaguely keep in mind the door busting open and a few calling an ambulance, going to the hospital.

I did stay, as I’m scripting this now. One pores and skin graft and lots of psych evaluations later, I used to be discharged.

Thus far, nothing extra has occurred. However I’m nonetheless afraid.

You see, no one discovered the piece of pores and skin I had minimize off. I had stared at it, lengthy and arduous, earlier than my pals broke down the door. I’d thrown it right into a drawer and hid it. Once I got here residence, I discovered it. It was the hourglass once more. However even on that now lifeless tissue, it nonetheless modifications…I feel. I swear extra sand continues to be falling by means of the hourglass, even with out it being hooked up to me. There’s just a few grains left.

Which suggests now I search for it to vary. To return to that picture I noticed that night time. The picture that I do know understand no one ever noticed however me. Jeff by no means received a superb take a look at it. It signifies that was my destiny. And with the grains left within the hourglass, it’ll be any day now.

On that piece of severed pores and skin that night time was a picture of a person. A flayed, skinless man. He sits in a puddle of his personal blood, holding strips of his personal pores and skin and a knife. The strips are all coated in tattoos. And he’s laughing.

Credit score: The Lifeless Canary (Chilling Tales for Darkish Nights • YouTube • Reddit)
When you want to narrate the story please contact Chilling Tales for Darkish Nights for permission by clicking right here.

For those who loved this story, please share it on social media!

Click on right here to take a look at’s official YouTube channel



(perform(d, s, id)
var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];
if (d.getElementById(id)) return;
js = d.createElement(s); = id;
js.src = ‘’;
fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs);
(doc, ‘script’, ‘facebook-jssdk’));(perform(d, s, id)
var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];
if (d.getElementById(id)) return;
js = d.createElement(s); = id;
js.src = “//join.fb.internet/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&model=v2.three&appId=102226266616709”;
fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs);
(doc, ‘script’, ‘facebook-jssdk’));