The Shadow Man

This is not a creepypasta, but rather something that really happened. It’s hearsay, I guess you could say, because I’ve never experienced it myself. Instead, this is something of a friend of mine, that they told me.

They used to tell me about this being called the Shadow Man. I still don’t fully understand what he looked like, other than a person made of shadow. They used to tell me that the Shadow Man followed them all the time, though never directly laid a hand on them. I always wondered what the Shadow Man wanted from them, then, if they never did anything. Eventually, this person saw the Shadow Man as sort of a twisted guardian. Like that he wasn’t evil, just strange. They told me they danced with him sometimes. They also told me about a fever dream they had. The details are fuzzy, it was explained to me a long time ago, but in essence, there was the Shadow Man, and some being of blinding light. I recall them telling me they had a sort of battle, but not a physical one. They’re not sure if it was a fever dream, or something that actually happened to them. Neither am I, really.

The Trainyard

I’m waiting for my train.

I sit on the platform, looking into the newspaper. January, seventh,2009. Waiting in a small city just outside of New York. I’ll be headed there for business soon. I just need this train to get here. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever. I glance at my watch. Still 20 minutes until it gets here. I stand, deciding I should get some breakfast. Looking around for a cart, I see nothing. Of course I wouldn’t, it’s three in the morning. No one’s even up except the red-eye shift guys. I look at my watch again. I spent five minutes looking before returning to my seat to read the paper again. January, seventh, 2009. There was a side article about a horrible wreck. Apparently one of the passengers died, a middle-aged woman, but everyone else was out without a scratch. I sighed. It’s a shame the woman was lost, but no one else was hurt.

I looked at my watch again. In about three minutes, my train would be there. Hopefully they’d have a food car even if it just meant some M&Ms. I got my things in order and sat there, waiting. Waiting. Waiting. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, I looked again at my watch. Two minutes late. These things happen. Waiting. Waiting. Five minutes. Five turns to ten turns to 20 turns to sunrise. No train had arrived. Not even more people had arrived. I get up to find someone who could tell me what’s going on. No one. Soon, I found my way back to my seat. All my stuff was stolen. I thought I heard a sound, and turned. No one was there. Of course no one would be there. Even wind didn’t want to seem to come here.

Get it?

Those words crossed my mind, as if coming from the shadows on the wall I had been looking at. Finally, I understood why the train was taking so long to arrive.

I’m waiting for my train.

Headed Home

Well, here's my first one. I hope you all enjoy it. It's kind of short, but I think it was made well enough.

It was late at night, and I was on my way home from the night shift at the ramshackle diner where I worked.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow. I turned to it. There was a cat in its place. I smiled, and pet it. “Hey, little guy,” I say to him, “you scared me for a second, there.” I got up, after a bit of petting, and turn. There’s a second cat. I stroke his back as I start walking again. The two cats begin to follow me. I heard a violin chord, and looked around. There were a lot of cats. This was a bad neighborhood, but I didn’t realize it had so many stray cats. I kept walking, guessing they were following me because I was an unfamiliar face. The violin again sounded, and began to play a melody. Normally, someone would have yelled some manner of obscenity out a window, but either no one else heard it, or they didn’t mind. By this point, I was nearing my house. I think. The street didn’t look familiar as I walked forward, but whenever I looked back, along with increasing numbers of cats, the street was the same as I was used to. Even to the sides, the houses were the same as they should be. I kept walking, guessing I took a wrong turn somewhere and would get to a familiar street. I reached an intersection, and, for a split second, I think I saw someone else on the empty streets. I looked up for a street sign, but found only an empty pole. “Damn it. They stole the sign again.” I say, but begin to run after the man I thought I saw. Every time I turned a corner, I saw him turn the next. Eventually, I reached a cul-de-sac. But he was nowhere to be seen. I turned, and there he was. Me, surrounded by the swarm of cats. “My cats are hungry.” I – he- whatever, said to me. “And you… you don’t belong.” The violin music stopped. He was holding a bow and violin in his hand. He pointed to me with the bow. The cats began to run at me. I began to run as quickly as I could away, jumping over fences and running through yards. I’d stopped caring about where I was. I’d stopped caring about what was going on. I stopped caring about who I was. I just cared that I was being chased. Everywhere, though, more and more cats were added to the swarm. I saw the doppelgänger of myself often, playing a silent tune on his violin. Eventually, long after I cared about him or even if he existed, I crashed into a door. My door. I quickly scrambled inside. The cats still stand at my door. I haven’t been outside in days. And there’s a haunting song echoing through my small apartment.

I know I said I'd have my own written...

But this creepypasta is a really good one. The words and everything come together perfectly. Also, I don't have the story I was writing done just yet, so I thought I'd put that there to give you guys something to read in the meantime.

Hello World

Welcome to my little corner of the interweb. I'm Fortune. Yes, I know the address is a terrible pun. What can I say? Anyways, I am a huge fan of creepypasta, and write a few of my own on occasion. I'll be posting them here on this blog. I'll hopefully have the first one up in a few days, I'll just need to write it.