I don’t believe in Karma
I don’t believe in Karma, never have. How many times has a good person been unfairly condemned or contrarily a bad person got exactly what they wanted? A big house, a wife, and countless luxuries all of it earned in the worst ways possible. You can’t really blame someone especially when the next best option was a standard 9 to 5 day job. No, instead I decided to taint my consciousness. See I used to be a human trafficker, it’s a rather lucrative job. At first it is hard to do things but after a while you become numb to it. I, myself, never really harmed any of them but really doesn’t make what I did any better. The things I’ve done are horrible. I know full well that I can’t be considered a good person and yet I live as though I was. But that’s all in the past is what I’d like to say. Lately though something has been following me around. It’s not a person it can’t be. This thing has been stalking me for at least a month, maybe even longer. The first time it showed itself was a month ago. I had just put my clothes to dry before going back to my room to go to bed. My wife by now had already been asleep and so while I was getting ready to rest I heard a bang on the window. My room is situated on the second story of my house and so naturally this startled me. Looking out the window it was a normal sight, until I saw it. That thing was clumsily walking away into the heavy foliage; it looked emaciated and walked as if it were only imitating a person. Its skin was pale but it was almost shrouded in an unnatural dark. Calling the cops clearly wasn’t an option even if they came they wouldn’t believe me. That day went and came and so that thing drifted into my memory. It left me alone for a week but one day when my wife was out with her friends and I was alone it came back. Late at night while I was watching TV there was a knock at my door. Looking through the peephole showed nothing in sight. After sitting down and ignoring the knock another one quickly followed. This repeated until I ended up swinging the door open only to reveal nothing again. I thought to myself “Am I going insane?” After locking the door and going upstairs to go to bed an audible groan sounded on just the other side of my bedroom door. Whatever this was, it was getting on my nerves and so I took the pistol that I keep in my drawer and again swung open the door. That thing was standing right in front of it. Its face was just an amalgamation of features. The worst part was that it changed spontaneously each time with a mixture of eyes, noses, and mouths. Horrified I took a shot at it but the bullet phased right through it. I slammed the door shut and locked it and ran to the bed. It started to bang on the door each time getting louder and more violent. I couldn’t do anything, not a damn thing whatever that thing was it was just messing with me, surely it was. If a bullet couldn’t stop it, what good would a lock on a door do? After what seemed like an eternity it suddenly stopped and my wife opened the door. “Jason? What are you doing, why do you have a gun in your hand!?” She asked, perplexed at the state she found me in. “You didn’t see it, there was this thing standing at the door just a moment before!” “Are you okay, do I need to call an ambulance or something because I didn’t see a thing, what did you see?” When she said that I nearly broke. What kind of clichéd bullshit is this? It was standing right there. She should’ve seen it clear as day. What the hell was going on. All that happened for the rest of the day was me convincing my wife to forget about the whole thing and we went to bed. That wasn’t the end of things though. That thing kept showing up. Each time it does it only grows more violent, scratching, tripping, and generally being a malicious inconvenience. The darkness engulfs that thing further as well. I can’t do anything, every time I try to prove that it exists to anyone the evidence is altered or it’s just gone all together. They’re starting to call me crazy but I can’t be crazy, surely not. I write this all tonight because I don’t think it’ll let me live this time. Even if it does, it’ll only be back. I’m sitting down in my bed with my wife next to me and a gun in my hand. The darkness shrouds that entire creature except for its head. That hellish head. It’s groaning is almost ear-deafening but of course my wife can’t hear it. It stands at the front of my bed. It didn’t even bother to toy with me and knock this time. Maybe karma is catching up with me for all the things I’ve done. Maybe this is all just some form of torture. Maybe I really am going insane. Either way I can’t stand to be around this thing any longer. I’m going to end my life myself soon. I can already tell this thing is going to make a move sooner or later. I just pray that it’ll let me because I know whatever it’ll do to me will only be worse. Credit: Condemned Chronicler Youtube Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.