The following short story was presented at the Jersey City Writers’ monthly genre event–Creepypasta: A Literary Reading of Web Horror. Please enjoy.


If you’re ever at a garage sale and you see a Tinker Bell doll for sale, never, ever buy it.

My cousin knows this girl, Lizzie. When Lizzie was seven, she was at a garage sale and she bought one of those plastic Tinker Bell figurines. She’d just seen the movie she and couldn’t get enough of anything Peter Pan related.

A couple of nights later, Lizzie and her older sister Marnie were sleeping outside in a tent in their backyard. It was at the edge of the property near the wood line. Their parents would let them camp out in the backyard, so it was no big deal. Safe, right?

Lizzie had her Tinker Bell doll in the tent with them. It was way past midnight and Lizzie had fallen asleep when she heard a crackling noise. She woke up to this glowing, pulsing light that filled the tent. She tried to sit up but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even move. Her arms and legs were tied down by vines. She tried to scream but it was as if someone had glued her mouth shut.

She looked over at her sister. Marnie was awake and tied down in the exact same way. And that Tinker Bell doll? The one Lizzie had bought at the garage sale? It was alive. It zipped through the air, hovering above each of them in turn, trailing bits of fluorescent light. Its eyes glowed like hazy lamps. And it smiled at them. Only its teeth were silver and jagged — sharpened into points.

And then Tinker Bell opened her mouth and spoke. What came out was a hiss that stretched into a single word. “Pan.”

Suddenly there was a rustling from outside the tent. The flap opened. A hairy-legged hoof poked through. Then came another one, and then the rest of it. This thing that came inside had the legs of a goat and the body of a man. Tufts of hair swarmed on his chest and back. His face was cracked and cragged, with a broad nose and curved horns that poked out of his wild hair. He reeked of musk.

The creature fell on all fours.  He crawled over to Lizzie. He lowered his face to her body and sniffed every inch of her.  “Not ready yet,” he said in a creaking voice.

He turned to Marnie. She thrashed as Pan sniffed her all over. Thick strands of his saliva dripped onto her nightgown. Pan snorted. He nodded to Tinker Bell. Suddenly the vines that held Marnie fell away. Pan threw her over his shoulder and he ran out of the tent.  Just before Tinker Bell left, she hovered close to Lizzie’s face. She clicked her shining, jagged teeth. Then she flew off.

The next morning they found Marnie’s nightgown shredded in the woods behind the house. They never found Marnie.



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