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The Drain Lady

Estimated reading time — 6 minutes

My father was a military man. Retired back in ’95 from the Navy after 20 years of proud service to our country. But before that, we moved often… every 3-4 years or thereabouts we’d pack up and get shipped somewhere new. Early 1989, a wonderful opportunity arose and dad took it. A 16 hour flight later, and we were stationed at N.A.S Sigonella, Sicily. I guess I was about, ohhh 10 or 11 at the time. Those years were blurred save those pinpricks of memory that still haunt me. That still plague my dreams from time to time.

Our first home there was an apartment in a complex called “Bellavista” far from the Naval base. There was a waiting list to move into Base Housing that generally ran for about a year and a half’s wait. Until your time to move, you had to live amongst the locals wherever you could. Bellavista was a beautiful place… we lived on the upper floor of the complex and had a wonderful view of the countryside off our back balcony. At night, one could look up at the night sky and see a thin trail of fiery red lava slowly ebbing from still active Mt. Etna. And in the morning, everything left out in the open was often found to be blanketed ever so slightly in volcanic ash, almost like a light dusting of snow.

But naturally, as perfectly nice as Bellavista was, it wasn’t meant for us for long. The lnadlord’s daughter was pregnant, engaged… and homeless. Guess who got the boot? So we moved, with the landlord’s assistance, into another home. Motta S. Anastasia, a little cobblestone-streeted town near Catania, and much closer to the Navy base. The day we drove up to the new place, I felt ill. Of course, nothing was thought of this at the time, but I’d swear in retrospect I was being told something. The place was a 3 story house with an apartment on each floor. I really don’t remember the neighbors, but both were similarly Navy families. And I can imagine I pissed them off a lot with the screaming.


Dad unlocked the door and proceeded into the small entryway. The cobblestone street gave way to a marbled floor entrance and a matching set of marble stairs up to the second floor, which was our new home. The place was stunningly beautiful. Marble floors… glass french doors into the living room area… balconies attached to nearly every room, save the one that was to be mine. Claw foot bathtub…bidet… all the modern conveniences expected of a home in Europe.

I walked into the room that was going to be mine. Small, simple, square and quite cold. To the left, at the end of the wall was a door covered with a “persiana.” Basically, a form of window blinds made from heavy horizontal flaps that was operated via a cloth strap attached to the wall. I pulled it up to see that the door was mostly glass and beyond it was a very small “room” lined with brick along the floor and walls. I opened the door and stepped into the room and looked up to discover the room extended all the way up through the third floor and up to a hole in the roof. There was no covering on the hole either… it went straight into open air. The shaft allowed a fair amount of light to shine into the only room in the house without a window in it, which I thought was pretty damn cool initially.

The chill seemed to come from the room, despite the glaring sun nearly directly overhead. It was then I heard the first whispers. Like… if you were to take a wire brush and softly rub the stiff bristles against your jeans. At the time, I attributed it to echoes off the brick… but I couldn’t help but feel weird about it. It wasn’t coming from any discernable direction or source… but it surrounded me like a blanket, as if sound could be tangible and touchable. It pressed in gently on my ears like pressure on an aircraft ascending or descending. I turned to leave and I noticed a glinting drain in the middle of the floor. It was obviously for rainwater to drain away but my nausea increased when I saw it. My stomach gnawed at itself as I ran out of there and I swear I saw the drain cover jiggle a bit on my way out. I lowered the persiana quickly and rejoined the family in the living room, shaking and sick as a dog.

Now granted… a little brick room was far from the norm for paranormal ghosty stuff. But try telling that to whatever was in there. Christ. For weeks and weeks, I’d get up the nerve to open the persiana in broad daylight and risk a peek… only to stumble back from the door sick as all hell to my stomach and trembling. I tried telling my parents of course… but an 11 year old’s ramblings about a scary brick room generally get chalked up to too many “Freddy” and “Jason” movies. The whisperings rarely stopped at night. They were persistent from the time I laid down until I finally forced myself into slumber. Often, I’d wake up in the middle of the night to silence, and then the whisperings would start up again, as if it was waiting to make sure I was awake.


There was never any real words to the whispering… just a hollow “ksssh sshhhaww hissssshhhhh haaahhh ooooshhhh aaashhhhh” that seemed to repeat, but never in the same cadence. There was no emotion behind it either that I can remember. It wasn’t angry, it wasn’t sad nor happy. Just there. Always fucking there.


One night, after about 2 months of this, I was awoken by a particularly horrifying dream. I seemed to start having those dreams after we moved in… I had never had constant nightmares prior. But I awoke from the dream with the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Immediately my eyes darted to the door… and saw that the persiana was up. Now, European goons with experience, back me up… Persianas are about the noisiest damn things to have in a house. They’re generally metal slats hooked in with metal hooks that grind and squeak loudly in protest as they’re pulled open. There was no way in hell that the persiana, which was always closed, could have been opened without waking up everyone in the house. But sure enough, it was open about 3/4 of the way up the damned door. A bit of moonlight reflected off the bricks in the shaft and into my room with a dull bluish tone. I lay there for hours, paralyzed in my bed, but unable to look away from the door, lest there be something there when I looked back. Eventually, I just conked out…

The next morning crept up finally and I was freed from my paralysis. I ran to the door amidst a wave of nausea and pulled the persiana shut as fast as I could. There was a light dusting of volcanic ash on the brick floor and I’d swear I could make out footprints or scuffing in it. Mom, still asleep at the time, yelled at me from across the hall after hearing the noise, but I couldn’t care less.


Over the course of the next 3 months, it was the same routine. The whisperings never faltered. The persiana would be found at least 2 to 3 times a week opened, and the blackness of the room would stare out at me in my bed. Then one night, it was different. I still have nightmares of this incident and it makes me cringe and want to curl up in a ball still whenever I conjure it up. I had awoken again in the midst of a terrible nightmare. And sure enough, the persiana was up, but this time it was all the way up. The moonlight was barely filtering in that night, but I’d swear I could make out something there in the room. It felt like I was at just the right angle for me to see whatever it was, and if I were to move the slightest bit, I’d lose sight of it. It was a small sphere that shimmered like a soap bubble does. But it was so faint I could barely make it out. I watched as it hovered there for the longest time. It began to shrink like some TVs used to do when you turned them off… shrink into a tiny dot of light.

But before it winked out, it flashed and expanded. It did so at an alarmingly fast rate and solidified into the form of a woman. She looked to be in her early to mid thirties, dark curly hair… definitely a local Sicilian. When she became “whole” and a solid image, she began shrieking and pounding on the glass doors with both fists. Her head swiveled wrong on her neck, shaking back and forth like if you put a teakettle on a stick and shook the stick around. Her eyes were completely black and full of anger and hatred… The skin around her mouth flapped loosely, giving me glimpses of her teeth and tongue and her hair was tossing around violently. Some sort of liquid oozed in small spurts from the corners of her mouth and flecks of whatever it was flew as she shrieked. Her screaming was horrific and nonsensical, and all I could do was scream back. My dad charged into the room to my bed, thinking I was having a nightmare. She shrank back from the door and… ugh. She slithered down the drain somehow. She twisted and distorted and I’d swear I could hear her bones splintering and cracking as she wound herself down into it. It was awful and to this day, dad says he’s never heard anyone scream so inhumanly before. I often ask him jokingly if he meant from me or her.

Credited to Kendrik.

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147 thoughts on “The Drain Lady”

  1. A decent read but I felt as if something was missing.
    Pros: decent build-up, full of details (especially the bones cracking, nice touch)
    Cons: it was missing that sense of impending doom and danger. Most good pastas have either a creepy feeling to it or just plain fright. You seemed to just use every good horror idea you had at the very last paragraph, leaving the build-up before slightly lacking compared to the end.

    All in all, decent. I just wish you did something more with the idea. You could have just caught a glimpse of the strange woman and continued the build-up from there, pulling the reader in more and more. The end could have had the scream and a possible attack of some sorts being stopped by the father entering the room. You also didn’t say what happened afterwards. Did you switch rooms with somebody ? Did you stay ? Did you wall-up the window ? Details like that make the story all that much more believable. It’s a strong 7 imo but I’ll rate it 8/10 because I want you to write more stuff.

  2. Wow, all I have seen in the comments section is an argument that 11 year olds can write and speak in a mature manner, and people stating that the author is older than 11, and that the story is written in past tense. Hehe, for the record, I wanted to let the author know that I thought that this was well written. Kudos.

  3. I use shakespearean insults. “Thou art the son and heir of a mongrel bitch!”

    You know what, we should have a “Smart Preteens Forum” somewhere in this corner of the Internet.

  4. This was good! When I was growing up, I had more than a few supernatural experiences in my house. In response to a few of the comments above… Even though this story was written about when the author WAS 10 or 11, it is very believable that someone that young could write/speak well. Both my parents are English majors and my paternal grandmother was a stickler for good speech and grammar. I may be lax with it now, but when I was that age I would correct my friends when they would all say “me and him”…it’s supposed to be “he and I”… After a while I gave up, haha…

  5. This story originated from the Something Awful forums over ten years ago (See: the use of “goon”). I know because I REMEMBER THIS DAMN STORY GIVING ME NIGHTMARES for months when I was 16-17ish. I’m pretty sure it was a “what’s the scariest thing that’s ever happened to you”/true paranormal stories thread. Memory serves, the person who wrote this claimed it actually happened.

  6. Actually, the kind of blind described in the story, that seemed to fascinate so many readers, is not a persiana at all. It is called “tapparella” or “avvolgibile”, it is not normally made of metal slabs (usually wood, recently plastic) and yes, it can do quite a bit of noise when pulled up, but only if it’s old and/or you’re going fast, you can actually pull it open very slowly with minimum noise.
    “Persiana” is the Italian word to describe the “normal” blinds, those that can be opened and closed like windowpanes.
    Aside from that, the story is mostly well written, but not very creepy.

    1. He’s not 11yo, he’s telling something that happened when he was 11yo. And it’s doing it no less than 17 years later (the story happened in 1989, he says at the beginning that his father retired in 1995, so it is at least 1996 when he tells it).

  7. That was a good read. I especially enjoyed how you described her movements and how she slithered back down the drain with the cracking and splinting of her bones. Your description gave me some eerie imagery. :)

  8. This was really good, probably because you wouldn’t think a little room with a drain would be scary, but somehow it just is…

  9. This was really well written. And i can attest, yes, there is no way to pull up a persiana and not wake people. ;)

  10. Greast pasta and i have a question what is the story behind the Then who is phone or who is drain and so forth.

  11. The way I invisioned the Drain Lady person was so funny I started laughing.. xDDD Sorry this pasta was boring for me.

  12. -Anonymous-
    “No fucking way an eleven year old speaks like this. Other than that, good pasta.”

    they said that they were about 11 when this happend not that they were still 11

  13. Not good. I have heard stories while at the asylum. Stories that would make your blood freeze in your veins and your hair turn white. But perhaps I just scare easily. That’s what my fellow inmates (For want of a better word) say, but then, they’re all crazy.

    Fear the Darkness


  14. terrible.
    there is an art to description, endless similes are not going to cut it.
    I was extremely bored the whole time, there was actually way too much description and it was done badly.
    and where was the story? some woman in the drain… who is she? is there any kind of back-story whatsoever?
    and the last sentence ends the story on an awkward note

  15. Unnecessary long intro made pasta longer than it should’ve been. Though the scenery description was amazingly beautiful and quite well-written, it didn’t need to be as long as it was.

    Loved the description of the “Drain Lady”. The ending was a little too fast & sudden though which didn’t balance out the intro.

  16. Just another reader

    Wow. This was sum nummy pasta.

    I really enjoyed it. It was full of detail and when she went down the drain, you could almost hear her bones cracking. Impressive job writing your experiance.

  17. This, like the Wireman story, is (supposedly) a true account taken from a post on the SA forums. It was not originally written as a creepypasta but as an actual ghost story.

    It is also one of the best.

  18. Christ, that was good. I could actually hear the shrieking, see her pounding on the glass. -shudder- Creepy as hell, great job.

  19. That was excellently written, but I think I’m just immune to pasta right now.

    I LAUGHED at the entire description of the woman. Maybe it’s my sleep deprivation.

    But still, this was very good. Kudos to the author.

  20. I don’t why there would be a random tube-with-a-drain construction on the side of the house, starting at the 2nd floor, which has no apparent purpose except to connect to some pipes and presumably make the connecting main room really dark. The only natural light that would get into the character’s bedroom would be the small amount that came down the tube thingy, since it had no windows. The whole pointlessness of that sort of spoilt the story for me, because I spent the rest of it thinking ‘what the hell is with that?’

  21. I thought this was great.
    It’s not the kind of story that gives you chills immediately, i.e “There is no clown statue” but it’s the kind that irks under your skin and makes it hard to go to sleep. It sticks. The image of the woman shaking and going down the drain with the bones splintering… it freaks me out. Very, very disturbing.
    Amazing imagery last paragarph.

  22. oh fucking fuck i just shat bri/x/ everywhere. a whispering emanated from my hallway as i read this, and my dog went apeshit. too scared to find out why the dog suddenly stopped barkiqf2w

  23. this was very very scary for me. this is what puts the ‘creepy’ in ‘creepypasta’. Very big thanks to the author. i liked this one ;)

  24. @ Miss Betterdone: Ah, kinda like that ‘Bring Me To Life’ Harry Potter fanfic. I’ll be sure to avoid it like the Medusa’s stare, then.

  25. The intro should have set the grounds for the pasta. It should have been a paragraph or two at most before something creepy and mind boggling happened. This was not the case, so yes, it did drag on a bit

    The pasta is quite creepy in places, but I would have liked more details on the nightmares – now those seem creepy.

  26. Alex(Oujou Keeper of Death)

    Man I really like this one, but frankly the bone thing doesn’t scare me because I can dislocate my shoulders…

    @ 54 I don’t have ADD but I did have time concentrating the begining did drag out.

  27. @ 40
    This is creepypasta. Not an encyclopedia. The reader is supposed to left wanting more information. That’s part of what makes it so creepy.

    @ 47
    Did you directly contradict yourself, or was that unintentional? Surely it’s better to be disappointed by a pasta that it takes about a minute to read than a pasta that’s twelve paragraphs long.

  28. @Lachesis: Twilight is a really crappily written vampire romance story geared at the prepubescent-girl group. It’s not a pasta, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it originated as one.

  29. Pew Pew Laser Gun

    It was pretty damn creepy during the actual reading, but rather anti-climatic (and thus non-creepy) at the end.

  30. I know I sound like quite the masochist…but what the hell is this ‘Twilight’ pasta everyone’s ragging on? It doesn’t seem to be archived on here (probably for good reason).

  31. Yeah, SA ghost threads are the reason I registered there a few years back.

    There used to be a site that archived some of the more well known stories like this one, but it disappeared, so I figured I’d do my part to preserve a few of them. This one and the Wireman stories are the ones I most remembered, but I haven’t been able to find Wireman =/

  32. This was quite excellent. As someone mentioned above, having the event only happen once was a wise choice really elevated the suspense of the story. And the paragraph in which you talk about the woman (the bone-cracking bit, especially) was extremely well done. It was uncommonly… visceral.

    @19- I think your percentage might be a little low there.

  33. Quit bitching SnowDen…sure the story’s ending didn’t live up to the build up but often short stories are disastrous.

  34. I agree with poster number 19, the Gube.
    Most of these pastas ARE written better then twilight. :) This was a pretty good pasta atcually. Freaky little room though.


    Ha ha ha — wait, I’ve got it. BUT WHO WAS CREEPYPASTA! Get it, it’s so meta it’s clever again!

    BUT WHO WAS DRAIN! Ha ha. Man, I love taking one of the words in the story, capitalizing it and putting it after the words “BUT WHO WAS.” Just absolutely incredible humor, and worth it every time.

    This one makes my friends laugh out loud: imagine there’s a guy, and he’s eating a sandwich, right? Then — he chokes on the sandwich, and he dies. Here’s the kicker: BUT WHO WAS SANDWICH? Classic! Oh man, I love this.

    Quick, someone give me a word — any word. This is going to be awesome. Give me any word, and I’ll repost it capitalized in “BUT WHO WAS” format.

    For example, you say “coat hanger” and I’d write, “BUT WHO WAS COAT HANGER?” Ha! God, it works there too! This is the BEST, you guys! The BEST in COMEDY!

  36. Jesus Tapdancing Christ

    Good to see some stories from goons up here. SA has some awesome creepy tales.

    I really liked this one the first time I read it, and I still really do. It’s refreshing.

  37. Quit bitching about the length. This beats the hell out of the short pastas that are always those insipid rituals(DO THIS, AND THIS, DO NOT CONFUSE THE ORDER OR YOU DIE) or lack any detail so you’re left wishing for more information. To get a truly good story, there needs to be content.

  38. Ah! It’s good to see a story from SomethingAwful!

    Those goons always conjur up great stories in the scary stories threads! I liked how descriptive this one is. =3 very nice job!

  39. Sir! I have to tell this… bricks were shat!…. nice pasta :P
    but I feel that the ending is not quite good, maybe something else maybe that the pretty lady was someone who lost something or I dunno but overall I would rate it a 4.5 out of 5 XD

  40. Meh. Not that scary, and definitely too long given the plot of the story. Seriously, guys, creepypasta is supposed to be copy/pastable. Hence past-a. Meaning it’s supposed to be SHORT. If you’re going to go the Hollywood way and make things a lot longer than they have to be, why don’t you just write a damn book? Christ.

  41. Not “creepy” in the traditional sense, but definitely a good ‘un. The description of the woman was down-right revolting, and made for a pretty vicious image of her. And I enjoyed that it didn’t reveal WHAT was the “thing” in the room until the end. Much better that way than soem repeat occurence creature, with the narrator having to see it some off number of times before getting smart about it and fucking moving.

    Very nice pasta. Would make a gnarly short film or segment in a show.

  42. Very nice, I spoke like that when i was 11 but then again i’m just in that generation i guess. Must agree with fund, needs more heron.

  43. I have alot of these reactions too. Like whenever the door is cracked just a little bit too far or I think something’s somewhere I don’t want it to be, I will STARE at that one spot untill I fall asleep. I find that having a toy weapon (or a real weapon, it’s your choice) really helps. And even sleeping while facing away from the window may help, I do this with the one ginormoungous window in my room, I have it covered with this thick covering that makes it impossible to see in. And I also have a question, because I am not as familiar with Euro house design as some others may be. What is the point of the brick chimney type thing in the story that was connected to the narrator’s room? I don’t think the architects would design the apartment complex with it for nothing. And why was it only included on the second floor? It says that it extends past the third story and the drain leads to a first story level piping system. Why?

  44. I’ve read this before on another site. It was posted by someone saying it was true…
    Also, I completely agree with The Gube. XD

  45. I like this one, props.
    There were a couple of weird parts and unclear sentences, but overall nice and creepy, just the way I like it.

    The sad part is that 99% of the pastas up here (like this one) are more well-written than Twilight.

  46. Guy With Teh Face

    Wait a sec, the thing I just posted is now comment number 10, and the comment I replied to is gone. Omg, CREEPYPASTA IS HAUNTED!!!!!!!!!!

  47. @3: Just in case you didn’t see the other 3 comments, the person is an adult, recounting a memory they have from when they were 11.

  48. I found it a little wordy, leading up to the good stuff.
    But overall great…

    spelling error….
    3rd paragraph down, 2nd line….


  49. Wonderfully disturbing story. Well written. Descriptive enough that you’ve got an excellent sense of the whole thing, but not at all overwrought.

    To the anonymous poster of comment #3: The narrator is an adult, recounting a story from his/her childhood.

  50. Alex(Oujou Keeper of Death)

    It was a person speaking of the memory when he or she was older… The person isn’t 11 any more…

  51. @2: It took place when he was 11. He’s not telling the story when he’s 11.

    interesting…didn’t exactly spook me though

      1. LMAO seriously??? bet you had to google what eloquent means. And there’s no freaking way that an 11 year old talks like this. Most adults don’t even talk like this.

        1. Yeah I talked like this when I was 11 too. Is it so hard to believe that in today’s day and age people can surprise you?

        2. I always had superior vocabulary compared to that of my peers. My mom jokes that I was born 30.

        3. beautiful pancake

          I am 13 i talk like this. i have speech teachers at my school and they require us to talk like this and better.

        4. OMFG THE GRAMMAR IS HORRIFIC! “I am 13 I talk like this” you either need an “and” in there or a comma. Don’t you mean they require you to “speak” like this. You. Are. Very. Dumb.

        5. urm it might surprise you but intelligent kids do exist. just because you didn’t have the capacity to do this when you were 11 doesn’t mean there are no 11-year-olds who do. It’s like saying just because you can’t shoot an arrow into a bulls-eye doesn’t mean nobody else can.

        6. Im 12 and I’ve had a book published. I believe it’s very possible for an 11 year old to speak this way, acutally.

        1. It’s not really hard to be intelligent when there are a lot of stupid people in the world.

    1. They were recounting the event that happened when they were 10 or 11, which was in 1989. This means, by the time this was posted, they were 19 years older, or 29-30.

    2. Are you stupid or something? Can you not take the timeline clues to give yourself context? “Was”, “had”, “were” all indications that the story is being told in PAST tense. OP is clearly discussing this many years later as he clearly states, “those years were blurred”. Some people…. Just don’t think all the time.

    3. I taught elementary school kids for a bit, and yes that can talk and write like this. It isn’t common, and it’s usually the kids who are exceptionally smart, but I’ve seen it happen. I’ve sat down with them and watched them write every word, without reference or computer.

    4. First of all, in the story, he recalled events that happened when he was eleven, not writing this as it happened. Secondly, yeah, people write like this, even at younger ages. I myself have always had an expansive vocabulary and still pride myself in being able to convey my ideas better than most of my peers.

    5. 1. there are plenty of intelligent 11 year olds with good vocabulary in the world.
      2. this wasn’t written by an 11 year old, he was 11 years old during the incident. Read the story properly.

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