Thursday, February 20th
Day fricken four. This one, I don’t even have the energy to complain about this. I know, I should be happy this is already halfway over, but I’m not. I’m dreading what’s next. This is starting to become way too much for me. At first, it seemed bearable, but now? It’s not even close.
After last night, I wasn’t in the mood for going to school so I lied to my parents, telling them I felt ill. I’m nineteen so they didn’t really bother trying to make me go anyway; it’s my life after all.
Still a little edgy and a little pissed from last night, I paced in my room most of that morning. I knew I needed to try contacting the freak responsible for this nightmare but doing that in pissed-off mood—not wise. I needed to calm down. It took me a good hour before I managed to breathe normally again and put myself in a somewhat stable mood to contact him (emphasis on “somewhat”).
I sat down at my desk, logged on to my computer, opened the Creepypasta page, and with my arms crossed, leaned back in my seat and waited. As I did, I kept going over in my head about what I might say to this thing once it showed itself. Should I yell and demand answers for why it’s doing this to me? Or should I keep a cool head and try to probe this thing for hints on what might be coming next? Or maybe just keep my trap shut and hope he lets something slip on its own?
After about twenty minutes or so, the monitor finally beeped, and that all-too-familiar black text box appeared on my screen.
Oh, goody. My arms tightened against my chest, but I stayed silent. For the longest time, the box remained empty. The cursor blinked over and over as it waited for words to appear. It reminded me of the first day all of this had started—I’d been waiting for words to come then too. Funny how much has changed…
Another ten minutes passed, before it finally chose to speak.
“Are you going to sit there? Or are you going to speak?” it asked.
Unanswering, I stared.
“Very well then. Remain silent. I have no trouble with that. A silent audience always hears more than a talkative one,” it wrote. “I very much enjoyed last night’s little piece. Your attempt to find a friend in all of this was, while pointless, very touching.”
My fingers dug into their palms and my eyes narrowed. This guy didn’t need to remind me of last night.
“You handled the situation in a semi-controlled manner,” it went on. “You were not as afraid as the first night this story began, but still failed. You were doing so well too, up until the end. You did not learn your lesson from the first night it seems.”
Oh, jeez! Brilliant deduction, Sherlock! I gritted my teeth but kept a cap on my expressions. No way in hell was it going to goad me.
It paused in its typing, as if waiting for a reply. I gave it none.
“Hmm,” it wrote a moment later, “judging by your blank face and lack of reaction, I take it you no longer care about any of this?”
“Correct,” I lied. Hell yeah, I cared. I cared about all of it—this whole situation! But I’d chosen to start acting apathetic. I figured he might reconsider sending me another “visitor” if I did. My reasoning: You can’t have a story where the main character won’t participate/care about what happens next. What would be the point of reading a story where the protagonist didn’t respond to anything? It would make a dull read.
“Well then,” it wrote, “we will have to make you start caring again. Hmm…Perhaps sending tonight’s visitor to your friend’s home would make you care; which also means, unlike you, if he dies, he will not have a second chance. But that is acceptable. And if that fails to motivate you, then we can just send the next visitor to see your parents the following night.”
“What!?” I jolted forward. “No! Please don’t!”
“Ah, there is the emotion I was looking for.”
Crap. I closed my eyes shut and clenched my fists. I felt stupid. Damn it. How did I fall for that?
“Not as “uncaring” as you appear,” it wrote with a smugness I found disgusting.
I took a quick breath before I answered.
“Okay,” I said, “so maybe I do care. You happy?”
“Only if you do what you are supposed to.”
I had to suppress a groan. Is there any way out of this? It wasn’t looking like there was. But maybe I could use that to my advantage.
“Can I make you a deal?” I asked.
“A deal?” it echoed.
“Perhaps. What do you propose?”
I smiled. Maybe I had a shot at this after all.
I sat up in my seat and cleared my throat, ready to give my best pitch.
“I will fully participate,” I said, “without giving any more trouble if you answer a few questions.”
“If I answer a few questions?”
“You will fully participate?”
I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me (I think). “Right.”
The box emptied and stayed empty for a good second before filling once more.
“Allow me to fully understand this,” it wrote, “your proposition is as follows: You will be completely compliant with your role for the rest of the story, without giving any more trouble, in return for a few answered questions. Regardless of what I just said about having future visitors see your friends and family instead of you when you do not listen. Is that correct?”
Okay, you know what? I take back what I said earlier about me not being stupid. I am, just a little bit.
I took a deep, reluctant breath before answering, “No.”
“I thought as much.”
“But you can’t expect me to go on like this without a little information,” I exclaimed.
“J.T. you have no form of power over me, neither by bargaining nor threatening. I do not have to give you any information, unless I wish to.”
I sighed and let my head sag. “That’s terrific,” I muttered.
“But this is your story and I suppose making it this far has earned you some information, but not much.”
I perked up at that.
“Really?” I asked.
Surprised, I leaned back in my chair, not believing my good fortune.
“I’ll answer three questions,” it explained, “but not the ones I find to be invalid.”
Good enough for me.
“Alright then,” I said. “First question: Who are you?”
I had a hunch he’d probably say that question was one of the invalid ones, but it was worth a shot. And, to my surprise, was valid.
“Who am I?” it echoed. “A very good question. I have had many names throughout time, but none that you would recognize. For now, you may simply refer to me as, The Sender.”
“The Sender, huh?” I slowly nodded. “Okay…Are you human?”
I kind of already knew the answer to that one, but I wanted to be certain, regardless. (Don’t judge me.)
“No,” it said.
“Okay, then,” I said. “Last question: why are you doing this to me and more importantly,” I narrowed my eyes at the screen, “what do you get out of it?”
“Finally, you ask something rather intelligent. I must say, I was beginning to think you were a lost cause.”
Lost cause? What’s he mean by that?
“Unfortunately,” it went on, “those were two questions. I am doing this because you asked for a story, so therefore I am giving you one. The second question, which while was a very good one, exceeded your limit, so I cannot answer.”
“What!? Oh come on! That’s the same answer you gave a few days ago! That one doesn’t count.”
“It does indeed count. I said I would answer three questions, you asked me three. Whether they were good or poor questions, were entirely left up to you. You chose to ask poorly and waited to ask a good one when it was too late.”
“You know what?” I lowered my voice. “I. Fricking. Hate. You.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.”
I wanted to choke this guy. But it would have to wait. I needed to know what was coming next.
Doing my best to swallow the rising bile in the back of my throat, I asked, “So, who’s visiting tonight?”
“You have asked that since Log 1, and have you ever received an answer?”
I remained silent.
“I thought so, what on earth makes you think I would tell you now?”
Wishful thinking, I suppose?
“Well then,” I grunted, “I guess there’s not much of a point continuing to talk to you today is there? Since, after all, you’re not going to answer anything else.”
The box emptied itself and for a moment, stayed that way before filling again.
“I suppose there is not. But before I go, I will say this, you are already beginning to change.”
I raised my eyebrows, giving the computer a confused look, before asking, “What do you mean?”
In answer, the box vanished from the screen.
I let out a sigh. “Of course, you don’t answer. Jerk.”
So I will admit: this conversation was somewhat enlightening. I have a name for this freak now, or at least, a title for him. And while I still don’t have the answers I need, this is better than nothing.
But it was time to get back to what mattered: My next visitor.
At this point of time, I was trying to figure out the connection to these freaks. Besides the fact that they were Creepypasta stories, why had these particular ones been chosen?
I didn’t know, so I had no way to guess what would come next that night.
But I wasn’t going to be as unprepared like the last few times. This time, I would be ready.
I got up from my desk and started gathering things I might need for that night’s visitor. I grabbed the following: a knife, phone, flashlight, lighter, handycam (yes, I was going to try and film again), and last but not least, my laptop. After collecting these items, I placed them in my backpack and got ready to leave. I’d already discovered that going to a friend’s or staying at home would be a deathtrap, and not only that, these places had few people. So why not even up the score?
“Mom, I’m headed to library,” I called up the stairway after putting on my favorite hoodie.
“I thought you said you weren’t feeling good!” she called back.
“I’m feeling a little bit better, and while I can’t make it to school, I can go work on my research project.”
“Oh, okay then. Be careful.”
I couldn’t help but laugh when I stepped out the door. “Be careful? Heh, if only you knew.”
I headed straight for the library after that. It was an ideal place to deal with this crap. It was public, spacey, and I knew the layout. And besides, I might just find something out about this so called, “Sender”. You never know.
When I pulled into the public parking lot, I made sure everything was tucked carefully away. The last thing I needed was someone to noticed I had a hunting knife on me and get my butt arrested; I had more important things to deal with and trying to fend off a visitor in a jail cell was asking to die.
It was about 3:00 p.m. when I stepped through the glass doors of the library. I had plenty of time to get settled.
The library wasn’t particularly too big. The front entrance was just a small corridor with a restroom on its left. Most of the library was one big circular room with the reception desk in the center and bookshelves separating the rest of it.
If I wanted to find anything about my situation, my best guess would be to start with legends or something of the like. The Sender had a thing for that, he admitted that he had been around for a long time and wasn’t human. There was bound to be something on him (assuming he even was a “him”).
I spent the next three and half hours flipping through dozens of books and the catalog, but the closest I came to finding anything remotely related to my dilemma were pieces about storytellers who brought their creations to life, which didn’t really help me much and mentioned nothing of this “Sender”.
In the middle of flipping through the pages of an old German tome about legends, static crackled from the intercom above with the announcement, “The Public Library will be closing in ten minutes. Please finish checking out any books.”
“Uh, no thanks,” I muttered. I wasn’t going anywhere. I set the book down and picked up my bag then headed for the public restroom. I remembered seeing a janitor’s closet near it. When I reached it, I tested the handle to find it unlocked.
Sweet! With a smile, I hurried inside and locked the door.
About thirty minutes later, once I was certain the library staff had gone home and the entrance doors, locked, I took a tentative step out of the closet and looked around. The place was empty. No one save me, and the books.
Good. I smiled. Back to researching.
I returned to my table and, to my surprise, found the book I’d left still there.
“Huh, lazy librarians,” I murmured.
I set my backpack on the table and started pulling everything out. I needed to be ready for the next freak. I didn’t know when it would show, but I knew it would be soon.
After everything was in place, I sat down and took another good look around.
The place had a surreal atmosphere now that everyone was gone. A few lights remained on to break up the evening darkness, but it did little to comfort me.
“Man,” I said under my breath, “I hadn’t realized how spooky this place could be at night.”
It was ironic. Libraries were always meant to be quiet places to read, but once people are gone and there’s nothing but you and the books, you realize there’s a big difference between quiet and dead silence.
This was dead silence.
And on that happy note, a sudden ringing decided to break the said silence up.
“HOLY—!” I nearly jumped out my chair as my cell phone vibrated on the table.
Damn it, I forgot about that.
I flipped it open to see my mother’s number on screen.
Huh, wondered why she was calling.
I hit answer and brought the phone to my ear.
“J.T.?!” I yanked the phone from my ear with a wince (worried much, mom?) “Where on earth are you? It’s nearly 7:00! The library closed at six!” my mother exclaimed.
Whoops. I hadn’t thought about this part of my plan.
“I... uh... I’m staying at a friend’s house,” I lied.
“Staying at a friend’s house?”
Her voice dropped into a monotone. “Uh-huh? Whose?”
Uh-oh. I’d lived with her long enough to know when she would check behind me. She was going to call whoever I told her I was staying with. Which was: no one.
“I…I um…” I stammered in panic. Think! What’s something that would convince her I’m not lying! I grimaced as my mind drew a blank. Damn it, why did I have to have an overprotective mother?
Wait. My eyes widen as enlightenment hit. That’s it!
Taking a deep, mocking sigh, so she could hear me, I answered, “Okay, okay, you win. I’ll head on home. I’m sorry, I just thought since I was nineteen and all I wouldn’t need to ask you. But,” I sighed, “that’s okay.”
I turned away from the phone and hollered out to no one, “Sorry man, my mom just called. She says I can’t stay.”
The phone grew silent in my hand, then, “No, no, no, wait, wait, wait!” my mother pleaded.
“Oh, hang on man.” I placed the phone back to my ear. “Yeah, mom?”
I heard her sigh, then say, “You can stay the night. I’d just like you to tell me when you do.”
“Really?” I asked with mock surprise. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s just that I worry about you sometimes. That’s all.”
I felt a pang of guilt sting my heart. I worried for them too, that’s why I was here at the library and not there at home.
“Well, okay then,” I said, sounding positive. “Thanks mom. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you then, love you.”
I hung up the phone, then with a victorious smile, leaned back in my chair.
“And that, my friends,” I said to my imaginary audience, with my arms spread, “is how you fool your mother.”
This time, I really did fall out the chair.
“Ah!” I yelped as I fell back.
Oh…damn my clumsiness!
My head snapped up towards the front entrance.
I scrambled to my feet and snatched my knife and camera off the table, and after hesitant breath, hurried to the front entrance.
It came again, louder this time. When I reached the mouth of the hallway, I pressed my back against the wall and peeked around its corner. My eyes were assaulted by the light of the sinking sun as it made its decline into the horizon.
The glass entrance shook.
What the heck!? What’s causing that?
It sounded like it was coming from the front doors, but there was nothing there…or was there?
I held a hand over my eyes to block the sun and squinted. I didn’t realize what I was seeing until I hear another boom come again. A silhouette was just at the corner of the doors blending in with the walls. It appeared to be tall and bald. I couldn’t make it out its arms—I assumed they were behind its back. The thing kicked at the door causing it to boom and shake.
Well, that explains the noise.
It took a step back then slammed the door with its foot again.
Seriously? I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Does he really think he can kick the door down?
It kicked again.
“Oh come on,” I muttered. This was pathetic.
No really, it was pathetic.
I couldn’t help it; I stepped into full visible view and shouted at him, “Hey genius!”
The thing stopped mid-kick and cocked its head to the side in surprise.
“You aren’t going to get through that door by kicking it,” I hollered. “So why don’t you just go ahead do yourself a favor and get out of here.” Or do what a regular smart person would, use your hands!
Something like a low hiss that steadily grew into a malicious growl came from the silhouette.
“Snarl all you want!” I yelled at him. “You’re not getting in.”
It snarled again and slammed its foot against the door.
Tell me I didn’t just hear what I think I just heard.
The thing took an even bigger step back then with slammed its foot against it again. Cracks spiderwebbed across the door.
“No way!” My jaw dropped.
The thing let out a satisfying hiss and kicked one final time, shattering the glass. The thing paused, taking a second to assess its handywork (or footwork rather), then stepped inside. Just as it did, the sun took its leave into the horizon and with it, the visitor’s dark silhouette.
“No…fricken…way,” I whispered, stepping back in both horror and fascination. A moment ago, I’d thought that this thing was some guy with his hands behind his back with crap for brains who thought he could smash a door with his feet. Now I knew better. It was tall, deformed, with gray skin, no clothing, beady, black eyes, and—the best part: didn’t have any arms. I recognized this freak immediately—he was one of the classics of Creepypasta, and perhaps one of the most ridiculously named in my opinion. The Brutally, Obscene, Beast or as the web commonly referred to it as,
“B.O.B.?” I asked aloud.
At the mention of its name, Bob locked eyes with mine. Intense hunger filled its cold black eyes. With a nasty snarl, it bared its sharp dagger-like teeth at me. I stared at its teeth then glanced down at my knife then back to Bob’s snarling figure.
I should have brought a gun.
I pocketed the knife. Getting in a close-up fight with this thing was suicide.
Before I could decide what to do next, Bob decided for me and raced forward. I too did the same.
The other way.
I dashed behind a row of shelves and started weaving my way through the natural maze of books. Bob’s growls and snarls echo throughout the way. After good ten or fifteen turns of zigzagging, I skidded to stop at one of the rear office doors of the library.
A hiding place? I wondered.
A sudden snarl erupted behind, then the shelf just to my left topple over, revealing Bob’s carnivorous visage.
“Crap!!!” I shrieked then rushed through the door, slamming it shut behind me. My eyes darted around the room for a hiding place or an exit. Several rows of desks and computers lined the center floor along with a few bookshelves in the back, but an exit? Nada.
“Damn it!” I hollered.
I spun to see the door shake on its hinges.
Oh man, oh man. How do I get out of this?
The door shook again.
This was starting to become a repeat of my encounter with Jeff the Killer and didn’t have a gun this time!!!!
There had to be something. I gazed around for anything that could be of some use. My eyes settled on a small metal panel on the far wall opposite of me, a breaker box.
Perfect! I raced to it and flung its door open. Without hesitating, I begun flipping off the switches. With each flip, light after light in the building winked out, plunging it further into darkness.
I heard the door again, followed by the last noise I wanted to hear:
With a gulp, I turned around to see Bob step over the fallen door. Its eyes focused solely on me with a hungry growl.
Oh, come on!
I turned back to box and started flipping the switches five at a time. Just where the frick was the one for this room!!?? Bob’s growls and heavy breathing grew loud as it skulked towards me.
I flipped off another row of switches only to find the lights above still bright and alive.
Damn it! If I end up getting killed just when I find the switch, I’m going to be so freaking pissed!
I flipped off another two rows, but to no avail. Bob growling became louder than ever.
“Damn it, Sender!” I hollered. “If I get out of this one! I swear I’m gonna beat your sorry a–” Bob’s roar cut my sentence short. I spun around to see the monster standing less than two feet away.
Its lips curled into an ever-hungry meat-tearing grin. I stepped forward to close the gap. I freaked and slammed back into the breaker box. There was a sudden click then two things happened at once: first, the room plunged into darkness and second, an angry growl followed seconds later by sparks lit up the room. Bob roared in pain as it yanked its foot out of the breaker box. I’d dove to side and gotten out of the way the second the lights went out and scramble underneath a nearby desk—and the best part—I had my night vision camera on me. I could see everything. The second I had a moment to catch my breath, I hit the record button on the camera and peered through the screen. Bob stood in place still hissing and growling scanning the room for me with an even more vicious look. I didn’t know if it could see in the dark, but I didn’t want to chance it. I drew back the moment it gazed my way and counted to ten before risking another peek. Once I was certain its back was to me, I swept the camera around looking for a clear path back to the exit.
I heard a loud thump, followed by an angry hiss as Bob bumped into a desk.
I smiled. Hehehe, moron.
Suddenly I heard even a louder thump followed by whoosh as one of the desks flew over mine into the wall in front of me. My smile melted.
Um…yep, definitely not staying under the desk. Time to go!
Carefully, I crawled over to the edge of the desk and peered over Bob. It was five desks over from me, looking underneath another one. When it finished, it slammed its foot into it and sent it sailing into the neighboring wall. It moved on to the next one, look under it, and then did same.
I cursed under my breath. I had originally taken this thing to be a feral minded monster. I now realized it was far more intelligent that what I gave it credit for. It was not a mindless monster.
It continued its search, destroying each potential hiding place.
Alright. I took a deep breath. I can do this. I just have to be quick and quiet.
With that, I crawled forward onto the next. Though I doubted Bob could see well in the dark, I kept low and made certain I had the camera trained on it. It was tough endeavor, glancing back from the camera to the next desk as crawled for the exit, but no way in hell was I going to let Bob out of my sight. After what had happened with both Jack and Jeff, I didn’t trust these freaks to play fair.
Nearly sixty seconds and five feet later, Bob reached my original hiding place. He knelt and sniffed underneath the desk then shot up in as if startled. I tensed. I heard it sniff once more then slowly turn to the desk I scrambled from earlier.
Uh-uh. No way. I thought. He can smell me!?
Now I definitely had to pick up the pace. Not bothering to see where I was going anymore and keeping my eyes solely on Bob, I crawled for the exit. Bob drew in another long sniff at under the desk then rose to full height, drinking in the air. Then, with an ominous hiss it looked right at the desk I’d just left. Not good! I risked a glance behind me to see how close I was to the exit. Three feet.
Yes! I’m gonna make it!
I turned rigid as that horrendous sound reached my ear. Beneath my knees felt several painful pinpricks. Knowing all too well what had made the sound, I glanced down with the camera to see the remains of one of the destroyed desk lamps Bob had tossed over earlier.
“Oh no,” I whispered.
I turned with the camera to see Bob’s gaze set already on me with an open mouth full of nasty, sharp teeth, and dripping saliva. An evil hiss escaped its throat.
All of that brought me to one definite conclusion: It could see me.
“Ohhh sssshii—!” I hollered as I scrambled to my feet and dashed through the exit. Bob’s snarls and angry footsteps followed. With the library now pitch black, I kept the camera in front of me to see. I could hear Bob’s heavy breathing and hungry snarls draw closer with every step I made for the exit.
Damn it! And here I thought a freak with only two legs would’ve been easy to beat!
I’d reached the halfway point of the room with Bob only a few feet behind me and closing in. I had to think fast, and I had to act now. But what in a library could possibly help me with a situation like this!? Knowledge?
The front desk came into view on my camera. I had no doubt Bob could see it too—it put on a burst of speed and its mouth was inches from the nape of my neck; I could feel its warm spittle and rancid breath cover me. If he had arms, I’m sure he would have probably grabbed me by then.
Wait, no arms. That’s it!
I just when I was about to reach the desk, I dropped to my knees. Bob, thinking I’d try to vault over it (like a rational person would’ve) couldn’t stop himself in time. I felt him trip over me at full speed—knocking the wind out of me—and slam face first on top the reception desk, then slide over it onto the other side. If he had arms, he would have been able to break his fall, but, luckily for me, he didn’t.
Breathing hard, I rose to my feet and peered down at him through the camera.
“Warning,” I said, “tripping hazard.”
I expected Bob to get up right then and there and lunge for me, but for some reason he didn’t move. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t care either. I took it as a chance to scramble back to the table I had put my stuff on earlier and shove all my belongings into the bag. Once that was done, I made for the exit.
But when I passed the reception desk, I halted. I couldn’t help; I had to know why Bob wasn’t moving. I approached the desk and peered over it.
“Wow.” I blinked in surprise. Now I knew why he wasn’t moving. When Bob had flown into the desk, his head had slammed into one of the computer monitors, so he was either dead or out cold. Several books on the shelf had fallen on top of him. I laughed when I spotted one of the titles: “Physical Handicap Fitness Guide for Dummies” it read.
I didn’t stay to admire it any longer necessary. I’d learned my lesson from the previous night: when you kill one of these freaks; they don’t stay dead for long. I ran out of the library and managed to make it to my car safe and sound. I was just pulling out of the parking lot when I heard it: a loud, furious roar. I looked back at the front entrance of the county library. Bob stood amid the shattered glass. His two beady, black eyes burning with intense hatred.
“Maybe next time buddy!” I yelled out to him then slammed on the gas. I shot out of the parking lot and onto the main highway leaving both the library and the Brutally Obscene Beast behind.
After getting several miles down the road, I allowed myself to relax my tense shoulders.
I did it. I began to laugh. I actually did it! I’d managed to survive another Creepypasta, not only that, I’d gone up against one of the classics and won! Grinning like a madman, I gazed up at the night sky and hollered, “Well, Sender, I don’t know if you can hear me or not. But I won this time. And not only that, I’ve got proof.” I patted my camera in the passenger seat.
I lowered my gaze back to the road.
“HOLY—!” I slammed on the brakes. The wheels screeched as the car skidded to halt, mere inches away from a tree.
What the heck? How did that get there!?
I felt my jaw drop as I looked around.
“Whoa…How did I get here?”
I was back home in my driveway…but how?
As if in answer, my pocket began to vibrate and ring. I pulled out my phone to see my mother’s number appear on screen. Hesitant, I hit “answer” and raised the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I said slowly, afraid of what I might hear.
“J.T.” I heard my mom’s voice say. “Are you on your way back yet? It’s getting late.”
“Back?” I echoed, beads of sweat forming on my forehead. “Back from where?”
She paused. “From the library,” she said, sounding perplexed. “It closes in ten minutes.”
What? I pressed the clock button on my stereo: 5:50 p.m. it read. I stared then lifted my gaze towards the sky above. The sun had started to make its descent into the fiery horizon.
“No way.” I breathed.