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The Wireman

Estimated reading time — 8 minutes

Last night, I was derailed from seeing a movie by a pal of mine ‘J,’ who needed a ride to a barbeque, with an invite as barter. Damn right I could see the movie another time!

We arrive at Lindsey’s house, where her roommates were all running about, organizing the contents of 11 empty grocery bags; meat here, condiments there, booze here, etc…

I’d noted to Lindsey that I liked her new home, it’s much bigger, roomier, and safer than her previous one, to which she looked a little puzzled.


“You… you must be referring to the house on ‘Nashville St,’ because you never saw…”
“…the other one,” Lindsey’s roommate Emily finished.

“So… you don’t know the story of the place in between the place you knew us to live in and this one, right?” Lindsey asked.

I just stood there, curious of all of the wide-eyed, uneasy looks, making myself wordlessly obvious that I’d not a clue. They called in the third roommate, Brianne, followed by J.

They took turns adding in their ‘two-cents,’ confirming little details, adding others, to which they all agreed upon as the story progressed. Rather than make this a back-and-forth story of four people interjecting, I’ll tell it to you third-person.

On Carrollton Avenue in New Orleans, Lindsey had parted with her previous roommate, and got together with two girls from school she didn’t know so well, Brianne and Emily, and got a decent place. The place in question was rather roomy, in a good location, and, above all, a hell of a bargain. This house, like most in the neighborhood, is nearly one hundred years old.

When Emily and Lindsey arrived to move their belongings in, they saw a note on the door of the furthest room from the front door, there was a note by Brianne, saying that she’d already claimed it, which annoyed the other two girls.


A blessing in disguise.

Within the first week or two, Brianne and the girls were all in the house together, Lindsey and Emily supposedly asleep, and Brianne up all night, determined to finish the book she was reading. At somewhere between 2-4am, she reached the last page of her text, closing the book, and settling into bed to see if she was tired enough to sleep, just yet. Note that the book was NOT a mystery/horror book, and that she had an elated feeling about what she’d just read.

She was replacing the book back on the shelf, and general before-bed tidying up, when the light above her started flickering, then went out. Brianne then turned off all of the lamps around the room, leaving the one near her desk on.

She soon found out she couldn’t sleep, so she sat up again, and turned on the television, putting in a cartoon DVD, in the hope it’d tire her out before the sun came up.

She heard a rapping on the wall, and stood, not knowing if it came from her door or her wall. Brianne lowered the volume on the TV, fearing it woke up a roommate, and approached the corner of the room where the noise was coming from. It wasn’t the door, it wasn’t the wall, it was coming from the closet.

What Brianne didn’t know at the time was that her deep closet shared a wall with Emily’s equally deep closet, not Emily’s wall.

Brianne assumed it was Emily who was knocking, and crept back to bed, in silence. Again, the rapping coursed through the room, so Brianne got up, exited the room, only to find Emily fast asleep in her own room, her body splayed nowhere near the wall in question. She checked on Lindsey, who was also fully asunder, her room too far for her to have knocked on the wall, to do so loud enough to gain Brianne’s attention would have woken up the whole house!

Confused, and a little weirded-out, Brianne returned to her room, closed the door, and turned off the TV and remaining lamps, and reached for the desk lamp, which turned off before she could hit the switch. She retreated her hand in surprise, and the light flickered on; she then reached forward again, and she successfully managed to turn it off, the desk lamp having given up on a life of its own.

Suddenly, light flooded the room, the overhead light blasted into life; perhaps it wasn’t the bulb that broke, but simply a loose socket?

Brianne, in the few seconds it took for her to turn around, and head towards the light switch, became uneasy. Sure, it was scary, and the visual impact of the overhead light flickering like crazy was intimidating enough, but it wasn’t without the realm of reason that this old house had loose bulbs, sockets, even wiring, to which she’d have a chat with the landlord about investigating before a inner-wall fire could occur.

Brianne consoled herself with such thoughts, as she approached the light switch in the strobed room, to finally turn it off, and put an end to this ordeal for the night. However, she began to believe the strobing effect of the light flickering on and off maniacally was making her see things… or not, for once she got to the light switch…

The light switch was been frantically flipping up and down on its own.

She jumped back in panic, as the strobing continued for a full few seconds, then suddenly stopped. Following a few moments later, in the darkness, was the knocking making a re-appearance, but much, much louder than before.

Brianne grabbed what she could, and got the fuck out of there around 5am, not only not looking back, but too scared to even inform the other girls of what went on.

It took a long time for Brianne to be coaxed back into the house, since no strange events had occurred since, yet Brianne wasn’t going anywhere NEAR that room, so, she slept elsewhere in the house. It was suggested that Brianne sleep on the second floor, since the weather was good, and the only reason it wasn’t used was that the landlord had yet to repair the AC/Heating units up there. Brianne refused. As tall-tale hauntings go, Brianne reasoned, she was going to stay away from an attic as far as possible, despite the fact that all of the happenings occurred in the back bedroom that she once claimed.


Weeks passed, and Emily had some visitors come over on one occasion, and Lindsey had some of her own on another; neither group of visitors slept more than one night in that house, citing that they had ‘strange dreams’ that they refused to discuss, and they had an unnatural apprehension from going down the hall past Emily’s room.

Lindsey decided to investigate a bit, and entered Brianne’s room during the day, finding nothing out of order. However, upon inspecting the closet where Brianne heard pounding noises, she discovered that not only did the back of the closet share a wall with the back of Emily’s closet, there was a sizable hole cut out of it, enough for a child to pass back and forth. Upon even closer inspection, the wall was shared, yes, but was hollowed, there was three feet or more difference between the two panels in the back of the two closets. Lindsey shined a light on the little space, and found a large spool of ‘industrial’ wire. She turned the light upward, toward the ceiling, and discovered this little ‘hollow’ went straight through the second floor, and into the attic, she could see a large beam stretching across, far above.

Lindsey kept this discovery to herself for a few days.

A night or two later, Emily was looking rather haggard, and explained that it was due to lack of sleep, since recurring nightmares kept jolting her out of slumber. The other two girls pressed on the contents of the dreams, the reslut of which much to their shock.

All three girls (and one overnight guest) had the same dream, as did the two previous guests, when contacted and insisted upon the details:

A very old, bald man was suspended above them, from wires somehow attached to his back, reaching up into the blackness; his arms were slung down, locked at the elbow, as to reach as far down as he possibly could; his arms began as skin, muscle, and sinew, but gradually terminated into a cluster of wires. The Wireman dangled above the dreamer, waving/scissoring his arms back and forth at locked length, as if trying to wipe past the faces of the startled dreamer. Finally, the man would buckle, as if a few inches of slack was granted from above, and the Wireman would immediately and eagerly grasp the sleeper’s throats with its wire-hands, and choke them vigrously. They could hear him smiling. The dreamer would suffer and die in the dreams, before awaking.

The vast majority of these factors were shared with the dreamers, without deviance.

The profusely apologetic Landlord didn’t question the girls’ fright (obviously there’s something he knew they didn’t,) and offered to send in an exorcist. Apparently, Exorcists are few and far between, so the girls popped down to some of the (very few) reputable psychics that were marvelously expensive; she got three to come on half-pay, half-favor. Remember, this is New Orleans, even I know of 1000 ‘Psychics,’ but I only believe 3 or 4 of them.

It should be noted that Lindsey was smart about this, she didn’t mention anything about the room, dreams, or actual location of the house, and should the psychics wish to investigate before they come to the site. Lindsey convinced them to accept the job with as very little info as possible, and all of the girls were there when the Psychics showed up, offering them nothing, but listening to everything.

The Psychics entered the house and all of its rooms, feeling nothing, until they got to the last room of the hall, where all three of them looked at each other in discomfort. One began crying. They backed out of the room. Lindsey took them into Emily’s room, and showed them the ‘little room’ between the closets (obviously from the ‘safe’ side,) and directed their attention upward. Soon after, the band of explorers would find themselves in the dreaded attic, and had found the crossbeam in question.

It had a deeply-etched groove of wear from a once-taut wire, and was indeed centered directly above that little hole.


The Psychics soon joined the girls in the living room, and discussed what they felt.

Apparently, a long time ago, a woman had run off from her husband, and little boy. The husband refused to let the child go outside, thinking that he’d run off, and the only way the mother would return was if the child was there, she’d surely not come back if it were just the father.

One day, tired of the wait, the father locked his son in his bedroom, and hung himself (with wire, we’re not 100% certain, in the little room? Not 100% certain) until, of course, he died, assuming that the mother would soon come for the son. She didn’t. The little boy died of dehydration in his room.

While this didn’t explain a good half of what went on, the Psychic went on to say…

“Well, there was some sort of torture… perhaps self-torture, but I don’t know if the preceded the man and his boy, or if it involved the man and his boy… we threw down many tarot cards, and, despite the meaning of ‘The Hanged Man’ that we all accept, it came up every damn hand… we use 108 cards, it came up EVERY three cards after a thorough re-shuffle. I think it’s demanding a new meaning, perhaps an obvious one? We don’t know, we don’t normally do this, but certain impressions are undeniable.”

The Landlord offered a second property, bigger, better, and cheaper, to which the girls took, and presently live.

The girls, when they think of it, did a little investigating, and here’s what they came up with:

(1) Neighbors had seen six sets of tennants come and go in the last two years alone.

(2) Their pal, Brian, who had several nervous breakdowns (including crying in class, and walking around bug-eyed,) in the year previous turned out having lived in that very house, in that very room for six months. Brian was mortified when the girls admitted they stayed there. He even recalled the ‘Wireman’ dream with eerie clarity and description. Apparently his state has improved in the time he’s been out of that house.

(3) The house is currently unoccupied.

This is a staple from an early SomethingAwful ghost story thread, but with search being down there I’ve been unable to find the author’s name – if anyone knows, please comment. I know that this is technically probably too long to be a real creepypasta, but I love this story and since it seems to be cursed to be only archived on sites that constantly go down (Ghost Goons, which is MIA again) or have broken search functions (SA), I’m just biting the bullet and posting it here. Enjoy.

UPDATE: Credited to Stuntcock. Confirmed via comments and his post on SA, thanks dude <3

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126 thoughts on “The Wireman”

  1. Ha, I kinda like this story because my last name is Wireman. (Really the only reason I read it) The story itself is alright, I’ve heard of old folk tales about a man made of wire or strung up by wire and named that. (My mom speculates it may have happened to one of our ancesters in the past as a punishment for one thing or another, therefore giving us our name, supposed to be a punishment for the family having such a creep in their bloodline, but whatever.)

    Anyway, it’s pretty good, detailed, but not so much so, leaves a little room for imagination and gives a decently closed ending, not the best, but better than some of the stories on here. 8/10 (One point for the name, gotta love it when you find a story with your name as the title)

  2. “They could hear him smile” that just makes me think that they could here the wires scraping against each othe.

  3. Electrix Whooves

    I find it creepy how my YouTube isn’t loading any videos after I read this. My YouTube wont even refresh but my Internet works. And my Instagram and everything works even the search bar on YouTube sujests the things when I type in a letter. I hope it’s just YouTube and not a virus or even…wireman in my home.

  4. SomethingApathetic

    Well, that was, like a majority of the other fiction on this sight, not as fear inducing as intended. Even with binaural audio stimulation related to anxiety, fear, and paranoia, I fnd this to be yet another waste of my time. Fuck this website.

  5. The only thing scary about this story is the Wireman thing. That sounds scary. The rest of the story was complete shit

  6. Something about this is very terrifying to me, Just dreaming that i’m in a room and all i see is darkness and a wire man hanging down and clawing at the air in front of me only to then grasp my throat..

  7. It’s… Okay. Realize something, though. The two closets shared a back wall, with a gap between the walls of, say, 3 feet. It said the closets were deep, so let’s peg them at around 4 feet deep. If the closets shared a back wall, and weren’t next to each other, that means the wall between the two rooms would be at least 11 feet thick (4+4 for the closets, +3 for the gap). Even for an old house, that’s really kind of unbelievable.

  8. Loved the concept, but the writing was terrible. It was like you the writer was trying to make it sound like he had a larger vocabulary than he does, and it just didn’t work.

  9. …An old guy watching me sleep, all while dangling his hands made of wires?

    …Whelp, I need a new pair of pants

  10. His Bitch Baby.




    P.S I LOVE JJJJ…..UUUU……SSS….TTT….III…NNN…..??????



    I DONT

  11. The attempt at an ominous metaphor (I could hear him smiling) could definately have been rethought. I usually skim-read, so I am ashamed to admit that I missed the ‘reslut’. Although, in all honesty, it’s very easy to make that sort of mistake, especially if you type quickly. Not an interesting story by any means, unfortunately. If I were to score it out of ten, my answer would be 1/10, and that point was only for the visual image generated by the description of the Wireman.

    Fear the Darkness


  12. I don’t think “They could hear him smiling” was an error. I pictured this being making a twisted pleased grin making some sort of eeeeeiiiiiiihh sound as he did it.

  13. I was into the story. But as soon as I got to this line: “The other two girls pressed on the contents of the dreams, the reslut of which much to their shock.”

    I did a triple take on that one and re-read it like 3 times until I could get over it. One of the worst typos to come up ]:

    Not only that, the calling-in of exorcists? Call me a non-believer, but honestly? I just don’t believe in all these psychic shez-nits and that was what completely ruined the pasta for me.

  14. The origins of this story are from one of the many “Ghost Story” threads on the Something Awful forums. This is (supposedly) a true account of the experiences of one poster.

    This is not a traditional pasta but an actual ghost story.

    Awesome, by the way.

  15. >> her body splayed
    >> She checked on Lindsey, who was also fully asunder
    >Creepy choice of words there. “assunder” sounds rather like “torn >apart”.

    Well, “assunder” sounds like something completely different (wink wink) but, yes, “asunder” means “split in half” not “asleep”.

  16. This was the stupidest one yet–but not WHO WAS PHONE? stupid. Just stupid in that it didn’t go anywhere or do anything. A few grammatical and spelling errors took me out of the story, in that I couldn’t understand what was happening–and I still don’t understand what the ‘fear’ was. This story started off kind of good and then just died. I liken it to a premature ejaculation and the guy not having the decency to put the flaccid member away after it served its purpose.

  17. They could hear him smiling.

    I could taste him staring.

    I didn’t like this pasta. It gave me food poisoning. It was rotten.

  18. > (with wire, we’re not 100% certain, in the little room? Not > 100% certain)

    Tip: Casual tone is one thing (it was well-used in the interjection about New Orleans having many psychics), but stuff like this is just poor writing.

  19. this one was quite real, but the towards the middle it became terribly weird in the sense that the guy telling the story seems to know much more than he should. maybe the girls told him in extreme detail, but it’s just weird that he didn’t miss out anything.
    seemed that he experienced it all himself.

    but the concept is ok, although unsatisfying as it’s not an ending that makes you think, but makes you frustrated as the ‘psychics’ gave such a vague explanation… it’s not a cliffhanger, it’s a story that has an explanation… i dont know how to say it lol but yeah.

    it’s a mediocre one, i think.

  20. I would have liked more details from the psychics, or stuff they found out about the house afterwards. Seriously, no newspaper or other records, when a guy hanged himself and a kid died of neglect? Also, I thought the hole connecting the closets would have some sort of significance, especially since it was apparently big enough for a kid to fit through AND the psychics mentioned a kid.
    Had a lot of potential, but didn’t quite do it for me.

  21. With gems like:

    “She retreated her hand in surprise”,
    “They could hear him smiling” and
    “Their pal, Brian, who had several nervous breakdowns including crying in class, and walking around bug-eyed”

    there is sure to be something to amuse even the surliest of buggers.

  22. Wow, I actually found the “hear him smile” part funny, but when I think more and more about it, it creeps me out. Am I turning into an english teacher? Oh God I hope not ><“

  23. Jack actually was ascared by this one. “True Stories” tend to be the scariest, whether they contain filled empty bags or not.

  24. Yeah, I had to edit it from SA (since it was originally a post about a goonmeet for Gooncon05 in NOLA,) and clipboarding back and forth, knowing all of the material nearly by heart… you miss a lot of little typos, and no-one in the thread corrected them, but it’s good that people do. Also, no, the story doesn’t ‘end well,’ I simply re-ordered the tale told to me.

  25. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut. Reslut.

  26. Woot i gotz teh iPod

    This is one of the funniest pastas I’ve read. “reslut” XD “hear him smile” lol. I kinda laught at the “rapping” too, until I read Marlowe’s comment. Btw, the idea of having a guy with wires for hands hanging above your bed is kinda creepy, even for a dream.

  27. “The other two girls pressed on the contents of the dreams, the reslut of which much to their shock.”
    “…the reslut of which much to their shock.
    “the reslut”
    This ruined the entire goddamn story for me.

  28. @38: Lmfao.

    Eh…well it was ok. I mean, I was hoping for this to really spark my interest since I lived in New Orleans.
    But…I think I’d feel more creeped out if I just stayed at one of the haunted plantations. :P
    I guess I’d give it 6/10. Decent plot.

  29. That was pretty cool c: At least it explained why the things were happening and didn’t just end it by saying they moved out without talking about the psychics. Good story.

  30. That was pretty cool c: At least it explained why the things were happening and didn’t just end it by saying they moved out without talking about the psychics. Good story.

  31. dude… good story. I like to read creepypasta, so I hope it’s not cursed. About the “hear he smile” part: it’s not wrong, actually it scared me – I thought the ghost was so old that his muscles creaked when he moved. What’s a reslut? õ.O

  32. “I am actually a new Mega Man boss. For some reason, Dr. Wily ordered me to reside in this house and wait for Mega Man. When someone other than Mega Man decides to live here, I haunt their dreams until they finally leave, opening the house to Mega Man once more. Once he’s here, I will strangle him. And yes, he will hear me smiling…”


  33. As you could hear him smiling, many people in my house heard me when I frowned at the word “reslut”.

    ’nuff said.

  34. This one could definitely use some editing and spell checking. It really gives off the impression that the author was trying to emulate a writing voice that was too distant from his own.

    I mean, it definitely has potential, but the execution is too distracting.

  35. Also…it’s remarkably hard to proofread your own work. Two things work against you. First, mentally you know what you’re trying to say, so you compensate unconsciously. Second, a *skilled* reader tends to absorb whole words, not letters. There’s even a little exercise where all the words are scrambled with only the first and letter in the right place.

  36. Get over the “rapping” bit. It’s a pretty standard verb that denotes a rapid, harsh knocking. Just because it’s not as commonly used that way doesn’t mean it’s not acceptable.

    I really liked the “hear him smile” metaphor…it gave me this sense that the movement of muscle and flesh created a harsh noise…kinda gave me he chills

  37. The lack of a suitable or satisfying ending makes this pasta seem more real than any of the others on the site, actually. Not all real ghost stories get resolved.

    Also, New Orleans is creepy as hell at night, even if you’re in an area that’s not known to be haunted (and most are). If you want a good scare, do some reading up on the history of New Orleans and maybe go visit it.

  38. you guys are a bit too critical. this isn’t a creepypasta – it’s apparently a true story. that fact alone means grammar will, if possible, be worse than most creepypastas. “true” stories, or even stories that are portrayed as though they were true and seem realistic enough, make me more uneasy than ‘HER EYES WERE RED’ kinda bogeymen stories.

  39. hmm, pretty nice. Though it could use a bit more of a “shock” factor like maybe one of the girls disapear? Or maybe tey find the body of the dead kid strangled to death in a secret room in the attic? I’m just throwing ideas out there.

  40. I thought it was decent. It’s not my favorite pasta of all time, but it’s creepy in its own way. And as for the grammar/spelling issues, it’s the internet and you’re seriously expecting perfecton?

  41. I am actually a new Mega Man boss. For some reason, Dr. Wily ordered me to reside in this house and wait for Mega Man. When someone other than Mega Man decides to live here, I haunt their dreams until they finally leave, opening the house to Mega Man once more. Once he’s here, I will strangle him. And yes, he will hear me smiling…

  42. @ 23
    Part of being a good writer is being able to have variation in your prose. The writer of this pasta recycled the same sentence structures, rhetoric, and vocabulary over and over. That’s a terrible read, but I guess if your vocabulary is so limited that you prefer crap to decent work then feel free to read as you please.

  43. Fantastic ghost story :D I like these long storys. I hope it isn’t cursed though. I like my weekly serving of creepy pasta :(

  44. good story, even if it has a few grammar errors.
    really creepy
    seriously, that kind of made me think that eminem was living inside her closet or something

  45. I didn’t even notice the errors until they were pointed out. I guess I can immerse myself in stories rather easily.

    Although ‘hear him smile’ didn’t make much sense to me, even if it was meant to be metaphorical. And a resolution would be kind of a good thing, the problem with smart characters is they don’t exactly make good creepypasta.

  46. While not the “best” one on the site by any means, is still a welcome addition compared to some of the stories recently. I do like the vagueness on what exactly is going on, leaving interpretation up to the reader. Very nice pasta.

  47. “the reslut of which much to their shock.”

    Lol, reslut.

    Also, this story is hard to read. The wording is terrible. >:(

  48. Reslut?
    Could hear him smile?

    Grammar spellings show that they could have spent longer editing the pasta.
    Spell Check anyone?

  49. This one really had me going. It was pasta of course so the writing is sub par, but it was a well written story. The wire man dream was oddly freaky to me, in way pastas usually aren’t. Nice overall.

  50. @18: Oh please. If it takes you more than a second to realize what certain misspelled words meant and other grammatical errors then you shouldn’t even be reading on creepypasta.

    Im actually against fancy and big words that can be replaced with simple words with the capability of sending the same meaning. The Wall Street Journal is that way.

  51. I’m sorry. I didn’t quite like this pasta. D:

    Reslut? Like make a former slut a slut again? XD
    Oh how I love typos.

  52. Nah. This was way predictable and badly written. Grammar is a must when it comes to stories or the deliverance is lost when the reader is trying to decipher what has been presented to them. Also, a wider vocabulary would do wonders. I got tired of reading “…in question”. It’s a shame, this could have been so much better with a little extra care.

  53. Wow, this is the longest and most uninteresting pasta I’ve ever read. “She did this, he did that” is a very bland way to tell a story.

  54. Man I would hate it for something to be rapping between my walls. xD

    Question is, is this house still standing after Katrina?

  55. I couldn’t read past this:

    “The other two girls pressed on the contents of the dreams, the reslut of which much to their shock.”

    Come on, people. You put these things on the internet because you want to freak people out. In order to scare someone with a story, you need to immerse them. Shitty grammar is like kicking them out of the room.

  56. This is supposedly a “true story”, thus the lack of any real resolution. The residents got the fuck out of dodge before anything more happened to them – good for them, bad for us.

  57. “The light switch was been frantically flipping up and down on its own.”
    Great. There were lots of grammar mistakes in this one x[

    Anyways, this was goooood pasta.
    Long, but that’s the way I like it.
    I especially liked the “They could hear him smiling” line. The only bad part was the ending; I got a little confused.

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