CreepyPasta - a collection

The Dark Room

Alone, he stands in the middle of the room; surrounded by dark walls with nothing but a dim light bulb hanging from the ceiling right above him. A man, with light brown skin and black hair that messily reach his shoulders, blankly stares at the light. His beard, full and untamed, had spots of dirt and grime. He wears glasses that frame his deep blue eyes and short eyelashes. A dirty white lab coat overlaps his tucked in black shirt and ripped blue jeans. Thinking deeply, he tries to put together the events that had led up to his captivity. He was just a scientist who was trying to find a cure for the outbreak, but the government thought otherwise. They thought that it was he and his team who had spread the disease even further. The government was looking for someone to blame to ease the minds and voices of the quickly depleting population, and who better than the only remaining scientist left who had anything to do with their project?

“..on! …mson! Samson!” The scientist takes his fixed gaze away from the light bulb and looks towards the reinforced door. It was too dark to see on the other side of the room, but he had heard the heavy clank of metal, indicating one of the guards had opened the slot on the door. “Are you ready to talk?” Samson keeps quiet for a moment. They’ve kept him here in this dark room for four days, deprived of food and water. Being a scientist, Samson knows what deprivation of food and water does to the human body. He was dizzy and fatigued; simple everyday tasks became difficult to do.

“What’s the point?” Samson replies calmly with a dry mouth. “I’ve answered all your questions, but you will not even hea-” the door slot slams with that same heavy clank of metal. He sighs deeply and walks towards the wall behind him, slowly, with his hand outreached trying to feel for the wall. He sits down in the darkness and stares back at the dim light. He then closes his eyes and thinks about his wife, for it was the only thing keeping him sane and alive. Her beautiful face and the memories they shared; he must survive.

He had sent his wife, Emily, to France after assembling the team of scientists who were trying to find a cure. He sent her there in fear that his wife would join those who have been infected by the disease, but that was a couple of months ago. He missed her so; she was the only person he had left in his life. Everyone he knew was gone. His neighbors, his parents, and the old couple from flower shop. The flower shop he thought.

Samson remembers buying his wife flowers for their anniversary about a month before the outbreak. He and his wife were very good friends with the old, lovely couple that ran the flower shop. The old couple would tell Samson that he and his wife reminded them so much of themselves when they were younger, and that Samson was taking the right path to a happy life.

Samson holds back tears as he starts to reminisce about the day he had gone in the flower shop for his anniversary.

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“Samson, your wife is a very lucky woman!” a cheery voice cries.

“Thank you for your kind words Mrs. Ramos, but it’s nothing much. Really!” Samson exclaims, blushing.

“Oh, nonsense! You come here every week. You always have something for her to show your love. These aren’t just words, Samson. This is the truth,” insists Mrs. Ramos with a delighted smile. She was wearing her favorite red flower apron and a pink dress under it.

“Look who we have here!” blasts a voice excitedly; powerful, but calming to Samson. “So what will you be getting this time ‘round Samson? Same thing as last week?”

“Good afternoon Mr. Ramos!” answers Samson. “Actually, I was thinking about getting her something a little different today. It’s our anniversary and I wanted to get her something extra special.”