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Creepypasta Riffs: Amara

Dorkpool March 24, 2015 User blog:Dorkpool

Remember a while ago when I said I would Riff any Creepypasta story I wrote? Well, that time has come with the poem called "Obsess-", I mean, "Amara." Yeah, I originally wanted to call it "Obsession", but someone else already wrote a story with that title, and it got deleted, and I decided, "Screw it, I'm calling it 'Amara'." Anyway, a little backstory on this poem: this wasn't originally intended to be a Creepypasta story. I wrote it for school some time ago, and recently took a look at it and thought, "Holy crap, this would be a great Creepypasta." So I posted it to the Writer's Workshop under the name "Obsession", got some good feedback (well, one comment. I recently got a second comment, but after I posted the story to the Wiki), and, well, now I'm technically a Creepypasta writer. But is this little poem deserving of the positive feedback it got? Well, let's watch people from trees, and Riff this bitch!

You must understand the nature of love,

I’m a nerdy guy obsessed with comics and Star Trek. Love isn't exactly my forte.

And the nature of-

Things like affection.

And how soon it can become an obsession.

I watch her now,

On a tree beneath her window.

(Narrator): Until the tree branch broke and I fell down below.

She looks at him with such infatuation,

Much to my frustration.

Amara is her name,

(Narrator): Playing ball is her game.

And her magnificence-

It sets my heart aflame.

O, how I adore her resplendence-

Those blue eyes

Remind me of the beautiful skies-

Above, in heaven,

Where she must have been.

I’d known her for years,

And eventually got over my fears-

My unease.

(Narrator): But then I was attacked by bees. (Not the bees, my God!)

The day I told her, there was a breeze,

The gust gliding through her hair,

Making her look more fair.

I told her I loved her-

That I wanted to be with her-


She gazed at me with those beautiful eyes,

As she tries

To tell me…

(Amara): Wait, do I know you?


‘It can’t be,’

I think- I know,

‘Why?’ I inquire.

‘There’s someone else,’ she says, much to my ire.

I wished to know more about this one,

This person who caused my love to shun


And that is how I come to be,

Here on this tree.

(Narrator): I've been here for hours, and I really have to pee.

I realize that he’s unworthy

Of this being of beauty.

Yeah, but you totally are, Mr. Creepy Stalker Dude.

I know now that he must

Be gone for me to get the one I lust.

I plot and plot,

And not for naught.

Soon I confront this man,

Gun in hand.

It goes off-

He drops.

(Guy): Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!

I soon tell Amara about her ‘lover’s’ execution,

And this is a solution.

We can now be together


She screams

At me, and my dream


Kind of like the guy you shot.

I aim the gun between her eyes-

Her beautiful eyes-

I watch her fall

And I know I’ve ruined it all.

Unless you’re into necrophilia. Just saying.

I look down the barrel of the firearm,

And think of all the harm

It has caused

And all that I have lost.

I see Amara and

Her lover hand in hand.

(Narrator): I look at her while exercising my right hand.

And I realize that my obsession

Caused these horrible transgressions.

Actually, you killing two people caused that, but sure, obsession works.


I see why I got some positive feedback. This little poem isn't half bad. Sure, some might say it's a tad melodramatic, but it's a poem. What do you expect? The story itself I think has been done before, but it still does work here pretty well. Spelling and grammar aren't that bad either. As a first Creepypasta, this isn't bad. (In case you're wondering, I'm working on more Creepypasta stories) So now, anyone who wants to complain about my Riffs by saying, "Oh, you can't judge, you haven't written a Creepypasta," can kindly shut up.

Anyway, what do you guys think? Was the story good? Was the Riff good? Do you wish I'd be stalked by some obsessive lover? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

(By the way, in case you're curious, he's a link [1] to the poem itself)

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