His Eyes

[Totes]

Something I whipped up tonight. I was inspired by several Creepypastas. Hooked on those things, it seems.

Anywho...


I remember once when I was around 13 years old, having to stay in the hospital for a few days due to an infection. I can’t sleep in any bed but my own, so as you can imagine, I barely slept those three days.
But in the few precious hours of sleep I did manage to get, I remember being awoken by…something. Something near me. Something in the room. Have you ever been standing in a crowd, and have that strange feeling like you’re being watched? You don’t know where, you don’t know how or why. You just know that you’re being watched.
“It isn’t real,” I’d tell myself. “It’s just your brain playing tricks on you.”
Except it wasn’t my brain. Because that didn’t explain the breathing on the back of my neck.
I lay there, quivering, trying not to move. Trying not to shake. Trying not to breathe.
Suddenly I’m awake, and I sit bolt upright in bed, adrenaline pumping through my veins. Nothing. There was nothing. But something was still wrong. It was too quiet. The silence was so abundant it was almost loud. Deafening. I glanced over at the door and noticed something slowly flowing from under it, into my room from the hallway. I pulled myself out of my bed and walked over to the door, knelt down. Red. Whatever it was, it was red. I stood up and slowly, quietly, turned the handle.
The door creaked open slowly, and as I beheld the hallway, my throat closed so fast, I couldn’t even scream.
Blood. Everywhere. Smeared on the walls, on the floor. I looked up. On the ceiling. Despite the horror I couldn’t stand still. I began walking through the puddles and…and the body parts. Arms and legs. Torsos. Heads. Littering the entire hallway. I began running, sprinting through the halls, and my voice slowly returned to me. I screamed for help. I screamed for anybody, anybody to be there, anybody to answer me.
And there, in the lobby, I found someone. His back was facing me, and he was on his knees. Almost as if he was praying. I slowly approached him from behind, calling to him. Nothing. He didn’t move, and I swear he didn’t breathe. I was less than a foot away from him now and I could confirm it…he wasn’t breathing. I reached out to touch him, and as soon as I made contact, his head jerked around so fast, I fell backward. He had no nose. No mouth. Just eyes. Glowing, crimson eyes. He lumbered to me as I scurried away as fast as I could..but it wasn’t fast enough. He leapt towards me.
The doctors tell me it was all hallucination. I refuse to believe it. It couldn’t have been. I felt the blood on my feet. The sickening thud of human body parts being pushed out of the way by my legs.
I have never set foot in a hospital since the events of that week.
And to this day, I cannot sleep in my own bed.
I see his eyes everywhere.

[Lindale]

A story similar to the ones about encountering "black eyed" beings. I like it. With some formatting, this could turn into a great testimonial.

Well done!

[Schofield]

I agree with Lindale. The story was well written, the only thing I didn't like is the formatting - which you can change easily. Just space your paragraphs out a bit.

[Lindale]

It is more than just that. You need to figure out what sentences would match best with which paragraph, as well as figure out the best order of the sentences.

For example, see the story I posted almost a year ago:

Spoiler:

As a child, I would spend most of each summer with my aunt in what is now Russia. Living with her were her two daughters, my cousins. One is Valentina, and the other is Alenka. At the year of this story, Valentina was 14, and Alenka was 12, the same age as I.

Every night we would go to our aunt, and she would tell us a story. She told us about a tree that was near her school, near the bridge with a small swing. She said that there was once a woman named Natalyushka who lived near the tree and had two boyfriends. One was named Ivan, and the other was Boris.

Every other day, Natalyushka would spend her time with Boris, and then the other days with Ivan. One day, Ivan found out about Natalyushka cheating, and told Boris. They both confronted Natalyushka and forced her to choose one man. She said she could not choose, so they hung her in the tree and cut her body halfway down.

Every single day now, even in broad daylight, you can hear moaning and crying. Our aunt told us that one of her friends had attempted to cut the tree down because he was annoyed by the noise. The tree backfired the axe he held, and sliced most of his hand. Luckily, all he needed was stitches.

One day, Alenka and I were walking around the school and saw the tree, near the bridge, and it had a tiny swing. I was scared but Alenka laughed playfully.

"Hey, do you dare me to go on the swing?" she said mischievously.

"No, Alenka, we shouldn't...you know...Natalyushka?"

"Natalyushka?" she laughed. "Mama only told us that to scare us, Silly."

She ran to the tree and began to climb it. She looked at me and laughed.

"Where's NATALYUSHKA now, stupid?"

I stared in horror as I watched my cousin get pushed off by nothing and receive cuts all over her body. She landed on her knees, and screamed in pain.

"Alenka!" I screamed.

I grabbed her. I saw her knee was gushing blood. Her lip was split in half, as if something had sliced her.

"We need to take you to Auntie, right now!"

Alenka stared at me, "No! Don't tell Mama, she'll kill me!"

"What about a doctor?"

Alenka stared at her knee, and tears of pain ran down her face.

"Ok, fine, hurry."

I carried her on my back and we walked to the doctor where, who cleaned her wounds and replaced them with bandages, and used a small cast.

"Alenka, what happened?" he asked?

"I-I-I fell." she said.

"You seemed like you've been beaten up, tell me the truth," he seemed to know.

"Alenka went up the Crying Tree." I said.

"Oh my God, Alenka." He declared urgently, grabbing her shoulders.

"Never, ever go on that tree again! Do you understand me? I won't tell your mama, PROMISE!"

Tears quickly ran down her face as she stated, "I promise."

"As for you," he looked at me. "Thank you for bringing Alenka here. Take her home and tell her to cover up so her mama does not see. This one is on me."

He smiled and extended his hand to me.

As I took it, I noticed a large scar on his hand. Instinctively, I knew he was the one who had attempted to cut the tree down so many years ago.

As Alenka and I walked home, I felt the breeze but did not see the tree move.

To this day, Alenka and I still have never solved the mystery of the Crying Tree.

Who was this Natalyushka? Did she ever really exist? We may never know. At the local cemetery, the winds and weather have slowly eaten away all records. Any traces or clues have long-since been eroded away, forgotten, and lost to time.

[Totes]

Thanks guys. Glad someone likes my writing.

[Lindale]

Keep up the good work!