Horror Stories(Creepypasta)

5☆The Lonely Searcher

Another day, another story!

Enjoy~

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Your probably wondering why this notebook is in your seat. But don't ask me about it, because I'll purposely ignore you. Don't get offended, because it's for your own good that I pay no attention to you. I need to tell someone this story, because I'm probably about to die soon.

Someone needs to know what's happening. In fact, I'd rather everybody know, so copy this and put it on the internet when you get home.

Over the last few weeks I've had the feeling I was being watched. Though I never saw any evidence of a stalker that would confirm these suspicions, I just couldn't shake that awful sensation. And despite the fact that I'm a 20-year-old, fairly-built guy, I was still at least a tiny bit terrified.

Recently I've been considering calling the police, but one day, a bit over a week ago, the feeling of being watched suddenly stopped. I no longer felt so vulnerable every time I stepped in front of my bedroom window.

I no longer felt the need to look around every corner and into every alley all the time, though I still took necessary precautions. The hair no longer stood up on the back of my neck.

Then, just a couple days ago, I stopped in my tracks on my way home from my new job at the local grocery store. It was around 7 in the evening, and I have just gotten off my shift.

Slowly I looked in the alley way just behind me. There seemed to be nothing there, but I still felt cold chills run down my spine. I reluctantly turned away and walked down the sidewalk again. My pace had now picked up slightly, but I tried my best to not break into a full sprint.

If I did that, I might have been overtaken with panic, and the confusion might send me careening into the street and getting hit by a car.

It wasn't long before I heard the sounds of shoes slapping against the wet pavement behind me. I was almost home--all I needed to do was get through the front door, run up to my room, and hide there after retrieving my pistol from my night stand.

Easier said than done, because I was feeling weak with fear.

Why was I so afraid of this guy? Maybe he, or she, was just some harmless person who happened to be walking behind me. That must it. I was acting irrationally.

I glanced behind my shoulder, and my heart skipped a beat. I halted and stared as the footsteps stopped.

There was no one there.

Barely moving a muscle, I glanced around. There were no sounds of anyone running away. No one was around, except for a car that innocently sped by.

So where had those footsteps come from? They sounded like they'd been around ten feet back, if not less. They stopped the same time I looked back, and there weren't many places to hide.

Cautiously, I resumed walking. A few seconds passed before I heard the footsteps following me once more. I whipped around again.

Still nothing there.

Now officially spooked, I threw all caution out the window and ran the last ten meters to my house, stumbling over several belonging to the neighbors children and an old newspaper from this morning.

I sped to my door, not even daring to look back, and burst inside after a minute of jamming the key against the doorknob, missing most of the time. I slammed the door, locked it, and ran up to my room, yanking the drawers out of my night stand and seizing the small pistol.