The Smiling Man In Black
| Published on Creepypasta.com | April 2008 |
|---|---|
| Length | 833 words · about 4 minutes to read |
| Story level | Short |
| Reader rating | 8.5/10 from 1,046 votes |
| Category | Beings and Entities |
When I was younger, I lived with my father and his mother. I was the only child, a girl at that, and my father was very protective of me. My grandmother, on the other hand, hated me. At first, she would just yell at me and shove me around when dad was at work. It escalated, quickly after he started working longer house to make ends meet. I rarely saw my father at that point. For 4 years, she did things I can’t even bring myself to really think about, not enough to write it. For those 4 years, I prayed and prayed for release. I prayed and wished for her to die. To God, to whoever would listen. My dad probably would have believed me if I’d had a chance to talk to him, but she’d made me feel as though I were an abomination over the years that, I couldn’t bear it anymore. After she killed my kitten and made me bury it, at the age of 13, I attempted suicide by hanging myself inside my closet.
Apparently, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing and the bar in the closet that I tied myself to fell on my head and knocked me the fuck out. I pulled myself up and headed to sneak into the bathroom without the monster cunt to catch me and give me another beating. As I left my bedroom, I caught a whiff of something very fucking rancid, like vomit, burning flesh, and blood, mixed together, warm. I knew all of these smells fairly well, considering what my grandmother did to me, and I thought for a moment it might have been my imagination, or her making something disgusting for me to eat to torture me more. While I recognized the seperate smells in a way, I’d never smelled something like this.
As I got closer and closer to the stairs overlooking the living room, which was right across from the bathroom, I started to hear something. Faintly, I remember hearing it a few feet back, but suddenly it seemed so much louder. My head was pounding, my heart was pounding, and all I could hear was gurgle, smack smack, squish squish, RIIIIIIIIIP. The mere idea of peeking over the stairs and into the living room was suddenly so profoundly frightening that I almost just went back into my bedroom, but strangely enough, it was amazingly easy to just do it anyway.
What I saw in the living room will never leave me for as long as I live, in more than one sense.
Also read: The Devil Game
My grandmother was lying on the ground. There was someone wearing black kneeling over her. They were both covered in blood. The person’s head was moving rhythmically over its hands, which held what I the relized was some organ in her body. The person didn’t look up, and I was scared silent.
There was so much blood. So, so much blood.
The sound of gnawing, the smacking mouth, the snapping of her organs at they were ripped from my grandmother’s body (what was left of it), the brutally grotesque sight of her chest cavity having been torn open, of her body being consumed little by little filled me with terror I had never known before. I didn’t know what to do. It ate her body, slowly, seeming to enjoy every bite it took, its body swaying and moving so unnaturally that I couldn’t even think it was human.
I couldn’t stop watching, I couldn’t run away, the sheer terror of it choked the scream I would have let out. It stopped, I stopped. It looked up at me after what seemed an eternity, releasing the contents of its mouth. Gorey pieces and blood, some brown at that point, covered most of its face. What I could see of the face, it seemed to be male, very pale in patches. Where eyes were supposed to be were black pits, pits that seemed to dilate, expand and retract. He had no lips, but his mouth twitched, like some kind of hologram going in and out, slowly smiling, the smile expanding beyond normal human ability. I vomited and fainted.
I woke up, my father was home and worrying over me. My grandmother’s body was gone along with all of the blood. “Where’s grandma? Where is she?” I kept asking him, until I had to stop, from the look in his eyes. He told me her heart was bad, and she was “in heaven now”. I couldn’t believe it. That was impossible, right? Did I imagine that whole thing?
At her funeral, on the way to her burial site, I saw the man again. He looked more human, but I knew it was him. I remembered that smile. That day, I smiled back.
I still have dreams about that man, sometimes I think I see him in public. Even when I don’t see him, I can feel him there. He’s always there, watching me.
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I feel like becoming one of these guardian devils. Where do I sign up? :D
I wish I had a bitch-eating guardian…
THEN WHO WAS MAN?
note,the “then i would have at the end” was not part of the rewrite,it was supposed to be lower,to show the transfer.
okay,id like to just say,i wouldnt stay silent,id be all more like this.
What i saw was a display of gore worse than hell itself.I screamed,as naturally as any of you would have if you were in my position. The,demon,monster,smiling man turned to face me,his jagged macabre smile still wet and dripping with the blood of my grandmother. then i would have at the end.
the image of that man hovering over my gored grandmother has haunted me,and i tried to end my life. i quit my job,canceled my bank cards,everything,i virtually dissappeared.then i heard crying from the building next to me. my disturbed mind thought,and thought,shall i save her,yes.
i went in and found her grandmother yelling up the stairs at her.i had no weapon so i simply bit out her corroted artery.”whats the worst part?” you ask,the worst part is,it tasted good.i kept eating and eating.i cleaned up the mes good,sewed her skin bakc up,and positioned her so she looked like she died in her sleep. i then left, home to clean up. maybe ill pay my respects by going to her funeral.
This does not make enough sense. So she virtually disappears but she somehow still lives near her family? Furthermore, you completely stole the second sentence of your second paragraph from the plot of “Into The Wild”.
Hello, Mr. Welldone.
tl;dr.
dun dun DUN
Wow,Mr.Welldone!Call me some time.I’m about as bored as you are.
Nice pasta.I would love to have a man in black for myself.To slay my enemies of course.
Boo at Welldone. Cheers for the pasta! Really, like someone said, more awesome than creepy. She has her own fucking evil guardian angel. What else could you want? Put me on the waiting list, please!
Mister Welldone’s comment was almost as long as the story.
I have to say, when he’s not insulting of an insight that has had the misfortune of coming to one that lacks eloquence in passing it on, Mr. Welldone’s perspective is a most entertaining follow-up to these reads.
Grandma. It’s what’s for dinner.
as said in comment #38, “people often forget in reading the bible that Lcifer (sic) himself was once an angel”… who the hell forgets that? everyone knows he was angel.
Fun fact: “Lucifer” (which means “light giver/bearer”) does not refer to Satan in the Bible; it refers (mockingly) to a king of Babylon. Most literally, it would refer to the sun. But overlooking this oversight, you are both right.
FINALLY! A creepypasta that answeres the question that has haunted all of us for ages!
Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the man(or creature) WHO WAS PHONE.
sombody pass me a night light Q.Q
1. bitch got what she deserved
2. i like mr. welldone’s witty banter [but only sometimes]
3. the idea of a prayer being answered by something ungodly frightens and fascinates me…or it could be something godly…who said angels have to wear white and have wings?…this person in black was smiling was he not?…a sumwhat angelic vigilante of some sort perhaps.
4. the fact that he was at the funeral is also frightening…to believe that these creatures live among us…-shudders-
that is all
Well, just because angels are pure good does not mean that they have to be “nice”. I mean, look at the Bible: sometimes, angels just served the purpose of kicking our insolent asses.
Oh, dude, I think I went to high school with that guy. Made strange noises at me and followed me in the Dollar Store.
But no, seriously, even though it’s one of my favorites, this story creeps me the fuck out. If I ever witnessed something like that, abusive relative or not, I would be traumatized for life.
However, I will say that the grandmother had it coming (good thing that both of my grandmothers are awesome). And as Zombie mentioned, I’m starting to wonder if the guardian “angel” was the father.
Either way, no sleep tonight o_____o
This story is fucking amazing.
My friend said it reminds him of me for some reason.
It seems like something I’d write. Not exact, but the style anyway.
Good job.
Mmmm Knowledge.
I need it. I seek it.
Mr. Welldone, I am also bored.
Hey fuck all you guys….
I once farted on a bag of meat
Drama in the comments?
O:/
..and I hate typos.
Miss Betterdone.Immaturity will get you nowhere. We’ve come to the site to read and explore the different, the strange, and the twisted. Not to complain and bitch about the other people here (Heh, hypocritical, ne?) That said, I agree. The story itself is oddly pleasant, if not in a strange manner. It has a fairy-tale quality to it, though more grotesque–remnicent of a Brothers Grimm version. Who knows–people often forget in reading the bible that Lcifer himself was once an angel, and his heart, though maybe his intentions, haven’t changed. Maybe the demon was a helper, or even better– a guardian. People have guardian angels–and every side has both a yin and a yang. Who knows? Maybe that was her guardian demon. …..Or maybe it was Mister Welldone, just going out for his evening snack. <3
Awesome story!
Honestly, people. Discuss the pasta. Whine at each other later. There’s nothing wrong with being someone on the ‘net.
Welldone, if you ever wrote a book, I would read it. Comment 34 is definitely one of your better ones, even if it was made in anger.
That said, cut the internet drama. What are you, thirteen?
God, my baby brother could’ve summed that up better than you did.
“BAWWWWW.”
Please make him angry. There is too much pretentiousness without inviting it by having an opinion xx
Hello, Miss Betterdone,
Look what you have done.
You’ve made me a bit angry.
Please don’t do that again.
Hello, Miss Betterdone,
What is your intent with such a bilious accusation?
TO have me throw up my arms and shout, “Yes, yes! This is all a ruse! I am but a bored man with too much time on his hands!”
The latter I shall admit to.
I am frustratingly bored.
Bored with a world without thirst for knowledge.
Bored with a world which consumes onlt the filth it excretes.
Bord with a world where blood has no meaning and secrets are but petty gossip.
Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.
So, I submit my insights to you.
Is all that I claim a lie?
Perhaps.
Is there untold wisdom hidden in my words?
Possibly.
Am I a man simply weary of the world and seeking diversion?
Absolutely.
What fun is it to have seen everything if there is not a soul to share in my Joy?
To simply outright tell all of all I have experienced and observed would defeat my purpose, for in unveiling a secret in plain words, I am robbed of witnessing the sweetest of epiphanies. And that would be destroying the one thing I desire.
I love to watch the birth of an elevated mind.
I cherish the experience.
Like a delicacy.
At times, the brightening of one’s mind is found in the rending agony of unexplained death in the most impossible of circumstances.
At other times it is buried within the most deeply rooted insanities.
Others still, it is found in the face of inevitable, inescapable horror.
The final situation is the most satisfying, as it presents the best chances of the most optimal moment of prescience without overly damaging the psyche of the one seeking knowledge.
It is in that circumstance that one can emerge from the Enlightenment.
It is in that circumstancethat one can see new and fascinating universe neatly contained in the suddenly alien reality he or she already inhabited.
And how I love to watch that person blossom and grow in that new world.
To watch him reach for the very heavens.
Not with a gesture of servitude or obeisance, but with a hand poised to take what is due.
To rend the heavens and let the universe rain down upon him.
To bask in the eternal glory even as his fleshly body and the world around him are stripped away in the most catastrophically violent of fashions.
To watch the End come crashing down over all of humanity, to see them scream as that which they have spent their lives denying rips their flesh from their bones, splits their skin with searing heat, and feasts on their innards even as they lie gasping and screaming for relief that never comes.
How I dream of watching it.
No.
I will not stop.
I cannot be stopped.
You cannot stop me.
I only want to share.
Okay Mr. Welldone, you’ve gone past the point of irritatingly pretentious.
Now you’re just plain annoying.
Hello, Foolish.
Afterwards?
Why, I go on my merry little way.