Creepypasta stories

Saturday Night: Eternity

Saturday Night: Eternity

Disclaimer: I know that my following recollection of events may seem far-fetched. All I to show for it is this tiny box which I have yet to open. I am still having trouble swallowing the whole ordeal, but damn was it wild. It must have been a dream or something, but the box is right here. I think I saw someone slip something in my drink the night before it all happened, or was that just a guy spitting in my beer after I tried hitting on his girl? Anyway, the stuff I witnessed will, most likely, scar me for life and I still am curious as to what was on the other side of that door. Let me explain it to you. I would appreciate it and listen to my memories. If you have any more information regarding ANYTHING that I have witnessed, PLEASE, by all means, email me at bobert85@hotmail.com.

Chapter 1: When Scary Met Ali

Let me introduce myself. My name is Robert Jackson but I am know as Bobert. Yeah, it is stupid but it is a nickname that has stuck with me since my 3 year old niece was confused as to call me Bob or Robert. I am 27 years old and graduated from UCLA with a degree in Graphic Design. I moved to Chicago a year ago and started my own design business. It's great because I get to work at home and choose my own hours. Another plus is that most of my customers are wealthy businessmen or casuals who don't realize I am charging them $800 to make a logo that a monkey could make. Occasionally, I get the art geek who knows his stuff and calls me out on my "corrupt" business practices, but it never escalates to anything that buying a few drinks won't solve.

So the night was Saturday, March 31, 2012. The Blackhawks were playing the Predators in the play-offs. This was a pretty important game so what better way to spend it than at a bar with people who have the same interest.

The bar was packed way over the limit. You couldn't take 2 steps without rubbing up against someone's ass (man or woman) by accident. I pushed my way to the bar and ordered a beer.

"Hey hey, Bobert! I thought you would show up, so I been saving this drink just for you." said Smithy, the bartender.

I hate this guy. I seriously do. Giving him my name was one of the worst mistakes I have ever made in my life. This guy even had the idea of calling me "Bobert" as well. He called it "A witty name from a witty man". Yeah, my niece thought the same thing only she was 3 at the time. I should have ditched that bar after my first visit but the amount of fine women that walked in there every night...

"Thanks, Smithy. Don't work too hard now." I laughed dryly.

"Good one, Bobert. Hey, you know the Blackhawks really seem to be bringing…"

I walked away as he was talking. It only felt right.

The hockey game was pretty exciting. People cheered and through their joy, they bought drinks for everyone (another reason I like to go on game-days). Halftime was approaching and I decided it was time to begin, what I call, "The Hunt". If it wasn't obvious, yeah, "The Hunt" is where I go around and try to pick-up women. Now I have been single for at least 2 years. I have all this money built up from my company and no one to share it with (Don't ever use that as pick-up line).

Half-time was rapidly passing by and I was having no luck. There was one lady who seemed pretty into me but I am pretty sure I saw her with a man earlier. Why did she tease me so much? Was it to distract me from... THAT ASSHOLE. He did spit in my drink during my moment of weakness…

Well that doesn't matter now because I have a woman that would make him jealous.

With 3 minutes left before the game resumed, I saw her, the most beautiful women in the bar. Her short-hair was as dark as ebony and her eyes shined so bright. It was as if someone hand-carved them from diamonds. She was the most gorgeous person I had ever seen. And, yeah, she was pretty freaking hot but I am trying to be modest here. The "Hunter" was ready to strike.