"The Face of Fear" Creepypasta | Scary Stories

[0:01]Twice I saw the face in the window, pressed up against the surface, its icy breath fogging the cold glass. At first, it appeared strange to me, the skin beneath its eyes drooping in ripples of flesh, exposing the red, sensitive strata underneath. It was the winter of '83, and I had booked a cabin for three nights, only three. A break was needed, somewhere to relax, somewhere to recover. I'd had a heart attack two months earlier, a painful, excruciating experience, which I would not wish on my worst enemy. Lying there, sprawled across my kitchen floor, the sharp agony had siphoned through my veins, chest, arm, jaw. I lost consciousness, only to find myself in a hospital bed days later. It was my daughter, Jen, who discovered me. Thank God for her. The cabin was to be a retreat, a place far removed from the stresses of my life. The fallout from a failed marriage, the pressures of a flagging career, and the ordeal of staring death in the face. Comfort had become a stranger. Fear, however, was now both my enemy and constant companion. Each beat of my heart was felt, the slightest change of rhythm or palpitation, a nursery for terror. The knowledge that at any time, the agony of death could be brought upon me by the very thing which gave life seemed perverted, an abomination of purpose. I now wandered through life like glass, afraid that the slightest exertion might shatter me. The doctors had done their part through surgery and medication. Now it was my turn to help my body heal as best it could. Only time would tell how successful such efforts had been. I was advised to relax, to undertake some limited physical therapy, and to avoid any anxiety or sudden shocks. But how does one avoid a shock or a nasty surprise? By its very definition, a shock is an unknown, unforeseen, unexpected event, which lurks in the darkness of obscurity. Out there, mingled with the fog of yet to come, around a corner, in the next room, a wrong turn taken, or an unwelcome phone call bearing bad news. I found the entire concept of avoiding the unanticipated to be a laughable one. And still, there I was, preparing for the quiet solitude of the countryside. Following the advice of the experts, and those men and women in sterile white coats. I had almost ignored their recommendations, remaining slumped at home, festering, counting the hours and beats of my heart as finite measures of my life. When still, the mind can unleash a terrible onslaught of memories. I thought of Susie, of the years spent together and now wasted. We had been happy once, but I played my part in where we ended. She came to visit me in the hospital. Perhaps she too wished for reconciliation, but feeling the gulf between us, as she sat at my bedside, was worse than any physical heartache. We smiled and spoke the empty words of the day-to-day, which litter each and every hospital ward. As she left, she touched my hand for the briefest of moments, and yet, I could tell she no longer sheltered the spark she once had for me. She tried to be kind to me, but some things done and said can never be taken back, a fire of resentment which can never be extinguished. They say time heals all wounds, but some cuts are deeper than others. In those bleak days of loneliness, I had only the thought of my daughter to keep me from slipping into a dark depression. And yet she stayed with her mother most of the time. Perhaps I had been cold towards her too. I knew my failings as a husband, but I had never conceived that I had been anything but a loving father. And so I lived for those brief two days a week when I could see her. The in between times were filled with fear of death and the thoughts of worthlessness. Friends, family, doctors, they all urged me to go on a holiday, but I was afraid. Scared of my heart giving up, frightened by the possibilities brought forth by an anxious mind, preoccupied with the fragile body which housed it. If it hadn't been for Jay, I would never have gone. He visited me several times a week and encouraged me to be as upbeat as possible with his usual quips and jokes. He kept me going, in fact, and finally persuaded me that a few days away in the countryside would do me good. Still, I was terrified of being left alone, isolated, away from things and people. What if I had another attack? Perhaps the next one would be fatal, and even if I could be saved, I would be too far for help to reach me in time. I needed somewhere that I could relax, away from the world, and yet, not so far from the wonders of modern medicine. That's why I chose Blackwood Cabin. Jay had visited there as a child. It sat on the outskirts of a large forest, hemmed in on a patch of open ground by a beautiful flowing river on the other side. Despite its seeming detachment from the world, it was, in fact, only six miles from the nearest hospital, which stood near a small town on the boundary of that thick, darkened web of trees. This, and the insistence of Jay that he stay as well, left me content enough in the knowledge that help would always be at hand. I could feel myself begin to relax as we left the city, and during the drive, we both talked and laughed, reminiscing about our days together at university. For the first time in months, I felt positive about the world, watching the motorway recede into the distance, relinquishing its concrete grip to the wild, untamed, and imposing grandeur of the great outdoors. Only once did I bring up the mention of Susie and our separation, but Jay quickly turned the conversation around to something more positive and fun, as he often did. I held out hope that the divorce would never be finalized, that she would come back to me, but hope, too, can be an exhausting predicament. So I attempted to filter Susie from my mind as best I could. The single track road weaved its way through Blackwood Forest. We riggled over six miles of twists and turns and serpentine slitherings before we finally reached the clearing. A large, water-logged patch of wild grass carpeted the area, so much so that we had to park the car a few hundred feet from our destination for fear of getting stuck. In the center of the soaked, near marshland ground stood the rickety and aging shelter in which we intended to call home for the following three days. The cabin was itself small, with one main room complete with cozy log burner and stove, and two cramped bedrooms at the back. That much was certain, and the darkened timber beams which carried the heavy burden of time above sagged and dipped as they lurched across the ceiling. The smell of moss and bark swathed the air, and the sound of the flowing river on the other side of the cabin bubbled and brewed. Peaceful, serene, yet mysterious. The first day was uneventful, exactly what I needed, relaxing with a book in front of three large logs smoldering in the fire, and spending a little while sitting on the steps to the cabin, watching the river swell and swarm with the river current. It was then that I understood the naming of the place, peering out across the bobbled grass to the tree line. The forest seemed picturesque, yet impenetrable from a distance, and the clearing where the cabin sat provided only temporary pause to its encroachment. Before it, once again, continued to blanket the land on the other side of the river. The woodland was dark and black, yes, but full of life, of vibrancy, of things, deer, foxes, beetles, rabbits. But I would never have guessed at the whores, which lurked between its tightly woven evergreen branches. Many tourist traps survive on tales of ghosts and ghouls hidden somewhere nearby, stories exaggerated by pub landlords or hotel managers, speaking of rooms where something ominous walks at the midnight hour. Visitors flock to such places, hoping to spend the night in a haunted room, to glimpse something in the darkness, which whispers the thought that life is more bizarre, more interesting than we could possibly imagine. Even that lonely and forgotten cabin seemed to have something of a myth attached to it. In a bookshelf, tucked away in the corner of one of the bedrooms, Jay found a warped old hardback. The papers were yellow, and while it contained the publication date of 1967, I was certain that it had only ever seen one pressing. Left in the cabin to titillate those staying. The book was called, The Beast of Blackwood Forest. Rifling through it, I found that the author had dedicated much of her life to the documentation of a local legend. I had myself heard the stories when I was younger, as I had once dated a girl who lived in a nearby town. All the kids talked about the beast of Blackwood, a creature which everyone's uncle had seen while out hunting in the forest. Dark, hulking, monstrous. Of course, I always laughed at such things, and no concrete evidence for it had ever been found, but each winter there were rumors, whispers about something shambling through the woods at night. As the day gave way to twilight, I read through some of those pages, while Jay stocked the stove and prepared supper. Although I declared the legend as nonsense, I found the book quite compelling, and the eyewitness testimonies contained within affected me enough to cause me to see something which wasn't there. Shadows moving outside under the cloak of dusk. I began to feel my heart once more, and decided that it was best to leave the terrors of the horror genre, fact and fiction, behind. My mind was still fraught with the strain of Susie leaving me, and the fear of the slightest palpitation signaling another heart attack. So, accounts of a terrifying creature preying on those in my immediate vicinity, no matter how preposterous, were not suitable for a fragile disposition. The clean country air, on the other hand, was doing me a world of good. After dinner, Jay surprised me with a bottle of my favorite whiskey, a 16-year Lagavulin. I knew that the doctors would frown upon it, but the idea of swishing that warm liquid gold around my mouth and taking a deep gulp reminded me of something essential. It reminded me of being normal again, of being strong, of sitting in my family home with my wife and daughter, enjoying the finer side of life. A few drams would not be unwelcome. We talked and laughed about the past while playing cards and enjoying again, reliving old adventures we had traveling together during our university summers with the old gang. I would have happily stayed there, wrapped in the comfort of those memories for an eternity. And in many ways, I wish I could have sunk further into that moment of relief from my recent worries, but that was not to be. Around 11 o'clock, the log burner was running low, and we had all but run out of wood. Jay drunkenly picked up a torch and decided that he would go and quickly gather some more so that we could keep the good times flowing. I didn't protest, I was happy, I was content to allow that night to continue. He was a good friend, and insisted that I not raise a finger out there in the cold darkness. He always was braver than me, and I'd be lying if I said that the outlandish thought of something lurking in the woods hadn't left its mark. I watched from the window for a moment as the beam from his torch bounced along the uneven, now frozen grass. The light dropped to the ground for a second, and I heard the drunken merry laughter of my friend echoing out as he picked himself back up, before continuing towards the tree line. Smiling, I returned to my book of choice, flickering through a few pages of an Ellery Queen detective novel. Less dangerous than the previous read. After about 15 minutes, I realized how truly silent the cabin was. No noise, no wind, no sounds of life or the living. And for the first time, I sensed something sinister resting in the stillness. Suddenly, Jay burst into the cabin and collapsed on the floor, panting. He turned to the door and kicked it shut with his heels frantically. His eyes wide, panicked, disbelieving, scrambling back to his feet, he turned a small table on its end and wedged it against the skin of the aging door under the handle. Help me for Christ's sake! He whispered anxiously. I stood quickly and rushed to my friend's aid, helping him pack furniture, anything with weight against the door. It was the first time since the heart attack that I'd physically exerted myself, and it would not be the last. I felt the blood pump through my chest, and momentarily quivered at the sensation. I tried to find out what had happened, but Jay was exhausted and distraught. A shiny streak of sweat ran down his cheek as he wheezed and gasped for air. He flicked the light switch, smothering us in a darkness which was only broken by a crescent moon hanging in the sky outside. Its silvered light vaguely illuminating the inside of the cabin. Prowling the window which gazed out toward the forest, his stare never broke for a moment from the frozen world outside. We stood there, my repeated questions going unanswered, and slowly, my fragility returned. I rubbed my chest for a moment, as my friend's anxiety seemed to spread to me. My heart raced, and my mind swung like a pendulum, between the fear of an agonizing heart attack, and the terror etched on Jay's face. Just what had scared him so badly? I breathed deeply to calm myself, but Jay took no notice, he was too fixated on the darkness outside. It was only when I poured him a large whiskey that he finally broke his silence. I've never been frightened of words, but my friend's certainty shook me. There's something out there. He whispered anxiously. I did not reply immediately, but when I did, I could only think to ask. Something? What could he have meant by such an indefinite term? There were no bears in that part of the country, no large predators at all, but it did indeed seem that Jay had seen something big in the woods. He had been gathering wood for the stove around the tree line of the forest, and as he described standing there, listening to a short flurry of rain tap the canopy above him, I could see the fear grip his insides, as it did mine. My heart began to pound harder as Jay stuttered over the words. I saw it moving between the trees, straight for me. I didn't look back, but I'm telling you, it wasn't human. I knew my friend was convinced by what he said, but while I dismissed the notion of an unknown creature stalking the woods outside, and perhaps in the attempt, hid the descriptions from the yellowed pages of that book which had etched into my mind. I very much did entertain the idea that there was someone out there, someone dangerous, mad, or perhaps both. My pulse continued to race, and I could feel my heart beating wildly at the thought of a shadowy figure prowling around outside, watching us, waiting. After finally composing himself, Jay asked if I was okay, his fear now turning to a concern for his friend. But I myself was transfixed on one course of action, escape. I rushed over to the cabin's phone, but on picking up the receiver, I was greeted by an icy silence. The line was dead, and what that still lifeless receiver said about the unseen threat I was sure we now faced was enough to thrust dread into my very soul. I stood there for a moment, desperately trying to formulate a course of action. That serene and peaceful place in the daytime now felt imposing and absent of mercy. I just wanted to go home. Jay motioned for me, and then pointed with a shaking hand at the darkness outside. It was then that he let out a suffocated whisper. It's there. Looking out into the moonlit night, I saw nothing at first. But as my eyes adjusted to the darkened landscape outside, I finally saw it. Deep down, I had hoped that Jay had simply drunk too much and spooked himself while out there. But now, any dream of a simple and harmless explanation was extinguished. Someone was standing against the trees, just standing and looking, bathed in darkness. It was difficult to make out any detail, all I could see was an outline, the outline of a stooped and hunched figure. Its arm wrapped around a tree as if steadying itself. I cannot be sure, but it felt as though its stare was firmly transfixed on our cabin, our rickety shelter for the night, which had no doubt seen many winters there before, and perhaps even encountered whoever or whatever was looking at us from across the sodden stretch of icy marsh. Who's that? I stammered. Keep your voice down! Jay snapped in return, so we whispered, and spoke of the hunched figure standing only a few hundred feet from us. It's not a man. Jay kept saying, but I continued in my attempts to dissuade him from that conclusion. I saw it. I saw it through the trees. It moved, it moved in a weird way, limping like it was off balance or deformed or something, but it moved fast. I have no idea how I made it back. Maybe it won't leave the trees. His eyes widened, and it was clear that a revelation had sprung forth from his mind. He turned suddenly, walking across the room to a table where I had left those yellowed pages, which spoke of a strange creature living in the woods. Jay thumbed through it, shielding the light from his torch as best he could with his hand. As I watched him scan through the contents and flicked to what he seemed so animated about, I almost laughed at the insinuation. It's a man, Jay, just someone messing with us. But he was convinced otherwise. Look at this! He said, following the text with his finger as he read. Accounts have varied over the centuries, but a central element to the myth states that the beast of Blackwood only wanders from the forest late at night. It has been suggested that the creature uses the thick canopy as protection during the daylight hours. Locals claim that it's entirely nocturnal. There's no such thing as the beast! I could feel my pulse thicken as my blood pressure increased at the idea, so much so that I had to sit for a moment to allow my heart to recover its normal beat. Are you okay? I'll be fine, let's just wait until it gets light and we can leave. Are you crazy? You didn't see that thing up close, it's huge and quick, and if it wants to get in here it will. So there's a weirdo in the woods, he can't wait us out all night, anyway, he's probably just a hunter or someone camping in the forest, he'll be harmless. I listened to the words exit my mouth. Even I didn't believe them. There was something about the place, a silence, deathly, icy, a sickly sense of dread hanging in the air. Jay turned to look outside to the grassland which edged towards our car, sleeping in the night chill between us and the brooding forest. We need to leave, or you can stay here and I'll get the police, either way, I'm going. He turned to look at me sternly. Which would you prefer? I might not have been convinced that it had been an unknown creature that had stalked him through the woods, but by God, I didn't want to stay in that cabin alone. I threw my stuff in a bag, as Jay did the same, each of us grabbing a knife from the kitchen for protection, and there we stood, looking at the door, a pile of furniture we wedged behind it. We dismantled our makeshift barricade as quickly as we could, and then brandishing our kitchen knives nervously, slowly open the door. It creaked softly, sucking in the night air, which felt cold and bitter, and revealed a slow patter of light rain, threatening something greater from the heavens. Jay pooped his head out first, and then after a brief silence, waved me on. We descended the dozen or so steps which led down onto the grass, and as we peered around the corner, we could see our ticket home. The car was parked a few hundred feet from where we stood, nestled in the last piece of dirt track, which would give way to road, and then the safe embrace of home, if we made it. It would take a minute or so to reach, but with knowledge of the figure in the forest lurking somewhere nearby, it seemed like an eternity away. I slung the strap of my bag over my shoulder, and Jay, mindful of my condition, headed towards the car first. Keep looking around! He urged me with a whisper. The water logged grass squelched underfoot, and the rain began to grow more angered as we stepped tentatively towards the safety of the car. We tried to be as quiet as possible, but even in the moonlight, we had to use our torches to see what was ahead of us, advertising our position to anyone or anything in the vicinity. I kept looking out towards the forest, the tree line, the thickening river behind me, but I could see nothing, nor could I hear anything but the raindrops, which now battered against the car, and splattered on my hood. Then Jay suddenly stopped. What is it? I whispered over the rain, my heart now beating wildly, throat dried by worry. The rain subsided lightly, replaced by the silence of a landscape petrified, frozen by a winter chill. Jay spoke without turning his head towards me, his breath visible in the beam of my torch. I thought I saw something moving in the tree line. The crack of wood, the sound of unseen walking over the forest floor. Come on! Jay whispered with urgency. We broke into a brisk jog, adrenaline coursed through my veins as my pulse thumped desperately as we continued on. All I could think of was my heart, and the deep, stuttered and freezing breaths I took in, trying to calm myself. As we drew closer to the car, the faintest wisp of moonlight hung in the air, as the crescent above us swung behind a pack of clouds, and the world took on a strange, icy blue. Stumbling over the grass, we finally reached the gray outline of our ride home. Open the door, let's get out of here! I pleaded as Jay fumbled for his keys, dropping them on the ground. The bastard! He growled. Instinctively, I pointed my torch downward, illuminating the long wild grass, now whitened by a thick coating of frost beneath our feet. I waited for an instant as I peered down at the ground, I recognized something was very wrong. Jay was not moving. He hadn't even looked down to see where he had dropped his keys. He was staring at something, and the look of sheer panic in his eyes told me that we were not alone. I raised my hand, and with it a beam of light glinted off the car, two large eyes stared back from the other side of the vehicle, a hunched, hulking thing glaring up at us, crouching behind the car bonnet. It shivered, and then again as it rose up, I saw it for a moment, wet drenched hair, mouth gaping, its face a pallid and quivering gray. It groaned aloud with a strange, unearthly and high-pitched undertone, which only added to the creature's horrid appearance. Run! Jay yelled. I did not need to be told twice. I dropped the bag and ran as fast as I could. I panted, sweat, stumbled, thrust myself forward with every ounce of energy I had left in me, and as I did so, the first pains came. The freezing cold stung my eyes, I fell twice, helped to my feet by my friend. My heart staggered, it heaved and battered in my chest. I could feel the slight twinge of pain run up my neck, nestled in my jaw. My chest tightened, I cried in terror, this was a heart attack, I yelled out, help! But all I could hear was Jay running behind me, screaming for me to go faster. Keep going, don't look back. As the cabin came into touching distance, I heard the heartbreaking absence of my friend's footsteps. I knew Jay, all those years as close as we were, he was always the brave one, something I had at times been jealous of. The one stubborn enough to stand up to anything. I understood implicitly that he was buying me time, a selfless gesture which helped me make it to the steps, scrambling up them only to turn and see him staring the creature down, face to face. The beast, shrouded in shards of night, as its hulking mass lunched towards him, a searing pain ran up my neck from my chest. I collapsed to the ground, but he needed me, and whatever life was left in my failing body, I was compelled to use to help him. Staggering to my feet, the night air stinging my lungs, I lurched forward, clutching my chest, ready to strike the beast with everything I had, before I could assist. Jay appeared from the darkness, grabbing my arm and threw me into the cabin. He frantically barricaded the door once more. We slumped to the floor, breathless, deciding to keep the lights out and listen. Shuffling in the darkness, but nothing more. The pain in my chest had subsided slightly, it was clear that the heart attack had begun, but when it would end seemed uncertain. What, what was that thing? I asked between gasps. I don't know, but it wasn't human. Said Jay solemnly, before showing me the knife he had used during the fight, now covered in a putrid black liquid. I don't even think this hurt it much. This is crazy, what are we doing now? I don't know, I just don't know. And so we waited and waited, but the pain in my chest grew steadily, my breath, more erratic. I took my pills, but I knew that the old enemy had returned, and I needed more than something to calm my nerves. If I didn't receive medical attention, there was every chance I would die. Jay stared at me as I sat on the old couch against the window, worried that each breath would be my last. We need to get you to a hospital. He said gently. Yeah, just chop him in. We both laughed for a moment. Jay stood up and looked outside, he seemed reluctant at first, and no wonder considering what lurked outside, but his concern for me appeared to slowly drown out his fear. I can't see anything out there anymore. The moon is behind those clouds, and we might not get another chance. I think I can make it to the car quicker on my own. But that thing's out there. I said, deep down ashamed that my fear of death galvanized a hope that my friend would indeed find the courage to try again. He leaned over me and smiled kindly, patting me on the shoulder. I can do this. It's pitch black out there, you need to use a torch, and then it would see you. I said, wincing once more at the growing pain in my chest. I'll flash it on and off, that way it won't know where I am, maybe it'll get confused, I don't know. He clenched the torch tightly, while looking at the kitchen knife in his other hand. Hopefully, that'll give me enough time to see what's in front of me and head for the car. The key should still be where I dropped them. Jay, please wait until morning. I asked, but as my friend looked at me clutching my chest, I knew he had already made up his mind, and part of me was glad for the hope his bravery provided. Barricade the door as soon as I'm out. Okay. I said, trying to hold back tears, both of pain and worry for my friend's life. He gave me a hug and then he was gone.