My wife and I were coming home from a movie we had wanted to see for a while. Our son, Tobias, was ten, so we decided he could be alone by himself until we came back. He was instructed to go to sleep at 08:30, no later than that. Before that he could just watch some television.
We left at 08:00, and came back at 10:30. The film was great. We entered home silently, as our son was asleep. Jessica (my wife) went on his bedroom to check on him, while I changed into my pyjamas.
After a few seconds, I heard Jessica scream, ‘Tobias? TOBIAS?!’ She came rushing into our room and shrieked, ‘Tobias is gone, Alex! He wasn’t in bed!’
I tried to calm her down, I told her he’d probably gone to the bathroom or something. We searched in the bathroom, the kitchen, the bedrooms, the living room, and the balcony, but he was nowhere to be found. We called for him, but no answer came back. My wife was panicking by now.
We called 000 (that’s the police number in Australia). They said they were coming. In the meantime, Jessica was crying in my shoulder (‘Tobias! My only son, disappeared!’), and I was thinking of what to do.
There wasn’t really a whole lot to do, since I had already called the police. Would they find him? What if a serial killer had broken in and kidnapped him? But that couldn’t be possible, since all doors and windows had been locked and yet, none looked like it was forced open. Had he ran away? But I don’t…
I had just spotted a small book lying on the ground, behind the sofa. As I picked it up, I realised it was my son’s diary. He would always write on it. On the ground, beside it, had been his blue pen.
A mixture of excitement and panic filled me. Maybe Tobias had written down information about the kidnapper? I started to read the last entry. The diary dropped from my hands as horror filled me. The diary said:
Dear diary, my parents left today to go to the cinema. I tried asking them to stay, but they insisted they wanted some time for themselves.
They told me they leave me alone here until they came back. I’m so proud, they called me a young man!
Mum told me to go to bed at 08:30. Before that, I’m watching Ben 10. It’s 08:15 now, according to the clock.
It’s 08:30. I turned off television right after Ben 10 finished, and then I turned off the light; I rushed here to bed. I never told anyone about this, but I’m scared of the dark, especially when I’m alone. I’m scared something will catch me. I’m writing this under the covers, with my torch.
Mum will come back in… it’s 08:30 now, they will come back 10:30, so they should come back in 2 hours. There’s no point in waiting. I’ll just sleep, but I’m so excited I can’t! I’ll still try it though.
I woke up now. I was so excited (and scared) I kept under my covers, even though I was sweating! But I later slept because I was so tired.
But I really need to pee. It’s still dark, and I don’t know if mum and dad came back yet. I’m scared to go to the toilet. What if there’s something waiting to get me?
Mum told me I was a young man. Maybe I should go and prove I am. Monsters don’t exist, do they? Ok, I’ll go.
I saw someone in the living room. I was coming to the bathroom, and I saw a girl in the corner. She had black… What is that white…? I mean, usually white thing in the eyes? Pupil? No, pupil is the centre… I’m not sure the name. Anyway, the girl had black in the part of the eye where it should be white… Her irises were red. Red like blood. Her hair was pure black and her skin was the opposite, it was so pale… She was transparent. She was staring at me. I couldn’t even scream, I was so scared. I ran into the bathroom.
I’m sitting on the floor, really scared. What am I going to do? Was it a monster? I think it was a ghost, because I could see through her.
I’m going to pee and then I’ll rush back to bed.
She’s right outside the door! I opened it, and she was there. Staring at me. Her expression… It was angry. And hungry. I’m so scared I’m crying!
What do I do now? Should I just sleep here in the bathroom? No, here’s really smelly. But to face the ghost… I’ll try to run into the room.
She is not there. She disappeared. I’m writing this while I walk to my room. No sign of her. Was it me having hallucinations? It looked too realistic. Maybe I’ll just phone mum and tell her what happened, but…
I’m sitting behind the sofa, the girl is there in the living room. She’s walking toward me. I’m crying. Please, God, help me…
Well, I've written this, what do you think of it? Do you think it's a good way to finish the creepypasta? Or d'you think it's kind of a kill off?
The police came in a few minutes later. They asked us questions, we explained everything. They said maybe Tobias was just playing a joke on us, and would shortly come back home.
But I wasn’t reassured; Tobias is not that way. It’s not like him to make such a joke. After two and a half hours, our son still hadn’t turned up, and the policemen asked us to evacuate the building, as it was now a crime scene. We went to a hotel and slept there. I was still in shock of what I had read; Jessica’s face was a tone of sickly red, and her eyes were soaking wet.
Six months passed, Tobias was nowhere to be found, and we’ve given up all hope. I’m writing this, as an explanation of why we are committing suicide. We can’t live like this, without our only son. It’s 8:30pm, we’ve already taken 6 different types of heavy medicines. We shouldn’t last long.
I’m sorry we never got to see Tobias again… He was such a good son… And he…
Wait. I saw some movement in the living room (we’re in our bedroom). What could it be, we’re alone.
Oh my God. It’s a girl. She’s pallid, with hair as dark as the black sky out of the windows. And her eyes… Her pupils are red, while the sclera, it was as black as her hair. She’s grinning at me. And on her hand…
She’s holding a head, by the hair. The decapitated head of a boy who died crying. The decapitated head of Tobias.
This could use some work on the wording and the flow of the narrative is kind of choppy making for a slightly awkward read. The diary commentary is borderline believable and could be executed better with something like a cell video. this is only a personal opinion, but I don't like pastas that end with the protagonist succumbing to the villian. I find it much more rewarding and challenging to the author to find a way to have justice be given. But again thats only my opinion. Really wasnt feeling this one and had no strong attachment to the characters. Im sorry
Nothing to set it apart from your average pasta. Just some unfortunate event that might have had something creepy in it, if you can call your average ghost that. not sure what hungry would look like except drooling by the buffet. Still, it isn't terrible, has good enough grammar, etc.
Oh, that part might be coz English's my second language. So I guess I didn't see I've written grammatical issues. Could you point out some so I could fix 'em? Or if you want, you could fix them yourself so it saves you the trouble of listing all mistakes (The story is The Ghost With Red Pupils)