The Critic
I had a really bad few weeks lately. I was sincerely terrified to be in my own god damn one-room flat. In fact, I was terrified to be anywhere. The feeling of something following me and the shadows crawling around walls and corners where I wasn’t directly looking at never left me. I started to hear voices, whispers, steps, speech, even distant, eerie music being played somewhere quite not this dimension. I swear that even my image in the mirror began to change in some sinister way. I bathed in my own sweat when I woke up from my short night’s sleep filled with unspoken nightmares. I didn’t feel safe even outside. Something was gathering upon me and there was no escape from it. All this started to take place some while ago when I decided to write a horror story. A creepypasta, in fact. I have always been a fan of horror but the last time I was being engaged in it in a larger scale things didn’t go too much better. Only then I understood to quit in time. Moving out from my parents’ house about a year ago triggered some unknown processes in my psyche. Now when I’m alone most of the time my imagination summons up horrors I had no idea were waiting in the back of my head. These horrors I now wanted to let out on my computer’s screen. Why not cause nightmares to other people who enjoy them as well? As I kept writing, the uneasy feeling grew day by day. I listened to every sound coming from the apartment and the other flats around. I was able to write only by day, since the nightfall seriously got on my nerves even without the creepy shit I let my fingers type straight from my subconcsious mind. I constantly looked back over my shoulder and avoided closets and even the bathroom until I absolutely had to go in and turn the painfully flickering light on. It was particurarly scary to take a shower, just standing there in a closed space while anything could be going on outside… Or inside for that matter. One day, the evening was already coming and I was in such a pathological flow I couldn’t turn my eyes for a second from the petrifying story that was being born before my eyes almost by itself, my heart bumping like a hammer. Suddenly I woke up from my trance. It was already dark outside. I started to sweat like a sponge. This was the first time in months the night caught me until I realized the darkness was falling. Somehow I had known deep down that if it was to happen, something terrible will occur. Then, all the lights went off. Actually all the electricity did, creating an unbroken silence. Only the computer stayed on. I sat in the dark almost unconscious because of the shock and fear. I thought I was dying when the freezing coldness took over me, but it was not only the warmth escaping my paralyzed limbs, but the temperature in the room. That’s when I heard it. The voice behind me. I swear all my hair stood up on its end. The voice, which sounded like it came beyond the grave or even some more unknown place, said: ”I… have been… watching you…” I was so grateful the source of the voice didn’t reflect from the computer screen. Until a hand was laid on my shoulder. An icy hand of grasping, suffocating nightmare. The voice from another world continued. I was sure to die where I sat. ”I… have… been…” I shut my eyes in utter, braingrinding, stomach-slashing terror. ”…completely… sickened… by this… shit…” I opened my eyes. ”Sheesh, seriously… Even my… two-year-old niece… wouldn’t be… afraid… of this… crap…” Then the hand, the undescribable hand of whatever was the ghoul behind my back, rose, reached for the computer and deleted my story. I heard dragging steps been taken when the uncreature turned slowly away to leave. Soon the electricity came back and the frozen air sweeped away. Everything was like before. It took a while to recover from this, but finally I dared to look back. Nothing. See what I was talking about? Good fucking Lord. All that shit I had to bear, and then some bloody night-creep comes and bashes me like this. Luckily it didn’t remember to delete the file from the trash bin. Credit To – Heeme 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.