The Pained Man | Creepypasta

The wind whistles against the windows. The storm is picking up again. I reach over and turn the dial up on my electric heater. The lamp on the desk flickers, temporarily bathing the room in darkness, leaving me with only the laptop screen to illuminate my hands. It’s almost 1AM and I’ve been instant messaging with some buddies. I’m supposed to be working on English coursework, but Chaucer is a dry subject and tonight’s distraction is an archive of Creepypasta articles on the web. My instant messenger pings, apparently one of my mates hasn’t gone to bed yet.

Bobaroon55: Wht r u up to?

It’s one of my mates from school. We play TF2 together a lot.

James1993: I’m reading Creepypasta.

Bobaroon55: Jeff the Killa’s a gud one.

James1993: tl;dr, prefer smaller ones. The Message is pretty good, just read it.

He doesn’t reply. I carry on reading. I’m in the middle of one, just feeling the knot of tension rising in my gut when a knock on the door scares the living shite out of me. Who can it be at this time of night? I get out of my chair and go over to the window, carefully drawing back the curtain. My mind’s got images of some pale-faced ghost man standing there, but the Creepypasta’s got me paranoid. Nobody at the window. Looking outside I can see, under the orange light of the streetlamp, there’s a guy stood in the middle of the path up to my front door, but he’s looking away from me. Kinda big, wearing a black bomber jacket, black jeans and boots. He’s just looking away from my house out at the cul-de-sac, panting heavily. I figure he’s a drunk who’s lost his way, or trying and failing to play Knock-Knock Ginger.

The IM pings again. I replace the curtain back across the window, head back over to the laptop desk and sit down in the chair.

Bobaroon55: R U still there?

James1993: Yeh some big dude knocked at my door. Think he’s drunk. I’m not biting

Bobaroon55: Mebbe it’s that killa that’s on the lose

Bobaroon55: *Loose

James1993: Shut up, there isn’t one

Bobaroon55: Nah, just messin wih ya

There’s another knock at the door. A bit heavier this time. I sigh.

James1993: He’s back again

Bobaroon55: Just tell im to shuve off

Bobaroon55: brb needa drink

Alone again, I head back over to the window. Peering out, he’s stood exactly where he was before, but this time he’s facing the front door. Not anywhere near it, in the middle of the path, he’s just staring. His eyes are wide, like in shock, and his jaw is locked into a gaping downward grimace. He’s still panting heavily and looks like he’s in pain. Much to my aghast, his head turns to one side and very slowly turns to look at me. I’m behind a net curtain in the dark and yet I swear he’s looking right into my eyes. I quickly put the curtain back, realise that’s probably made it obvious that there’s someone in the house and curse under my breath. I limp back to the desk, hoping that the man will just go away.

James1993: You back yet?

James1993: He’s still outside

James1993: Looks like he’s hurt, but hes just starin at my house

A sudden slam at the door, the lamp flickers and I jump for the second time in ten minutes. It sounded like someone throwing their weight against the door. There’s no window in it so I can’t see what’s happening. Grabbing the pool cue I keep in the house more for self-defence rather than actually playing pool, I reluctantly creep over to the window. Hefting the thick end of the cue, I pull back the curtain-

-Nothing. There’s nobody there. I check around the path and in front of the door, and the pained man is gone. Relief comes over me. A reassuring ping from the laptop greets me back to the desk.

Bobaroon55: u alright buddy?

Bobaroon55: call the police or sumthin

Bobaroon55: wake the neigbors

James1993: He’s gone

Bobaroon55: *neighbors

James1993: There was a big slam against the door thought he was trying to break in

James1993: Gone now though

Bobaroon55: good

James1993: Need a drink, that was worrying for a moment BRB

I get out of the chair as the laptop pings a few more times. There’s a bottle of vodka in the kitchen cupboard that’s got my name on it. The rain is beginning to pick up again, I can hear faint tapping as I enter the kitchen. I go to flick on the light and a sudden pop informs me that the fuse has blown. Shit. The main breaker is in the electrical cupboard outside the front door. Like hell am I going outside in the rain though, especially after seeing that guy.

In the dark I feel around for the cupboard and find the bottle and a tumbler. Pouring myself a drink, I note that there’s not any water hitting the window and yet I can distinctly hear tapping. I go over to the kitchen window and looking into the darkness outside, realise there’s a wide pair of eyes staring back. I drop the tumbler.

The pained man is there, stood in my back garden, staring at me through my kitchen window. I can just about make out the movement of his finger tapping against the glass. His strained mouth is opening and closing like he’s a goldfish, and I realise he’s mouthing something. I think he’s trying to say “it hurts”, over and over.

It’s only a thin pane of glass between us, he’s big enough to smash his way inside if he wanted to. Terrified, I scream at him to go away. In desperation I reach for the roller blind and fumble in the dark to roll it down. Behind it, the tapping gets harder and more frequent, and then it becomes a fist hammering on the window. I swear the plate glass is vibrating, and it’s going to smash any minute. As I step back towards the living room, it stops. I don’t dare re-enter the kitchen to check the window. I’m just going to shut down the laptop, heads upstairs and lock myself in my bedroom until daylight.

Luckily, the desk lamp and the computer are still on – they’re on a separate ring main. It suddenly feels a lot colder and darker, I realise that the street lights have gone off outside. Must be one o’ clock. Several pings in quick succession. I glance at the screen.

Bobaroon55: hey man, stay safe there

IT HURTS

Bobaroon55: dafuq

Bobaroon55: someone els here?

IT HURTS IT HURTS

Bobaroon55: someone hackin the IM client m8

IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS

Bobaroon55: hang on got someone at the door prolly yur scary killa lol brb

IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS

Alone, frightened at what’s on screen, I sit in the chair and place my hands on the keyboard. Why’s it so f*cking cold in here? I turn up the heat to full, and the lamp flickers off, leaving me with just the glow of the monitor screen. To add insult to injury, the drone of the heater dissipates. The sudden appearance of the battery icon in the lower right of my laptop screen indicates that the heater has probably blown the other circuit. With power draining rapidly from the laptop and its useless battery, I make one last attempt at a goodnight to my friend before I run upstairs.

James1993: You there?

Nothing for a few seconds. And then-

Bobaroon55: IT HURTS

He has to be fucking with me.

James1993: Stop it! Don’t fuck with me!

Bobaroon55: IT HURTS IT HURTS

IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS

Bobaroon55: IT HURTS

James1993: That’s not remotely funny

I’m about to give into my panic and run off, using what’s left of the light from the laptop to navigate the stairs, when one more message comes through.

Bobaroon55: YOU KNOW WHAT’S FUNNY?

I don’t want to know. I’m panting heavily at this point, I’m having a panic attack. But sure, why not find out.

James1993: What?

Bobaroon55: YOU REALLY SHOULD LOCK YOUR DOOR

I suddenly realise why it’s so cold. Glancing over, my front door is ajar and the wind is blowing in. Even worse, I’ve stopped panting – I’m holding my breath in shock, but I can still hear panting, right next to me. Slowly I turn my head back towards the screen.

His cold dead eyes stare at me, right in front of my face. His cold breath on my mouth. The computer begins to ping like crazy.

IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS

The battery gives out on the laptop just as he edges in closer, plunging everything into darkness.

It hurts.

Hope you enjoyed this! My first proper attempt at horror/creepypasta. What’s a creepypasta, you ask? It’s a meme!

There are specific references in this to Jeff the Killer and The Message, so give those a try if you’d like some established Creepypasta.

If you enjoyed this, hated it or thought the image at the end ruined it, let me know! You can comment below using Twitter, Facebook and possibly Google+!

Happy Halloween!

Post by Sean Patrick Payne+ | October 31, 2013 at 8:34 pm | Halloween | 1 comment

Tags: creepypasta, Halloween