Creepypasta Files

Still Waters

THEY SAY YOUR LIFE flashes before your eyes before you die. Well, mine didn’t: at least not literally. But maybe suicide doesn’t count. All I remember going through my head as I stood on the parapet of the bridge and gazed down into the inky black waters beneath was a deep sense of resignation. I’d been over and over everything in my head thousands of times already: all that was left was just that one single step. Just put one foot in front of the other, like I’d been doing my entire life.

The cool night air felt fresh and cool against my face, like the farewell kiss of a long lost love. I closed my eyes, and raised a foot into the empty air in front of me. And that’s when I hesitated. Hesitated just long enough for my life to take a very different turn.

A dry, sardonic laugh echoed through the night, a kind of world-weary chuckle that suffocated the seriousness of my intent in an instant. I opened my eyes and turned around: a figure was idling towards me out of the darkness.

“Alright!”

His tone was breezy and light. I did my best to ignore him, but he walked up and sat himself down on the wall beside me, facing into the bridge. He took out a small pouch and began rolling himself a cigarette. Halfway through the process he looked up at me sideways, his eyes glinting in the orange streetlights. “So how’s things?”

I stared down at him. “Just peachy, thanks.”

He laughed again. “Yeah, looks like it.” His nimble fingers produced a toothpick-thin cigaratte, which he licked and lit with the dexterity of a stage magician. He took a long, deep drag, then exhaled a thick plume of smoke out into the night.

The silence stretched out between us like thick toffee. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Look: I don’t want to talk about it, and you can’t do anything to help me, so you might as well leave and let me get on with it.”

“Fair enough. I’m not exactly a good listener anyway.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

He took another drag, letting the smoke hang for a moment in the empty air. “But how about you do something for me first?”

Now it was my turn to give a little laugh. “For you? Like what?”

“Oh, it’s pretty simple really. You just give me a year of your life.”

“A year of my life?”

“Is there an echo out here?”

“You’re crazy.”

“Says the guy about to take the shortest swim of his life. What have you got to lose? You’ve been master of your own life so far, and where has that led you? To this one-off high dive performance for an audience of one.” He grinned, his eyes twinkling from beneath his shaggy, unkempt hair. “You don’t want it anymore, so give it to me, for just one year.”

“Is this some kind of sex slave thing or something?”

A deep chuckle reverberated across the bridge. “No, no, nothing like that. You place your life in my keeping for twelve months. After that, we part company, and you can do whatever you want. Your life is your own again, and if you want to come back here – well, that’s entirely up to you.” He threw his cigarette over his shoulder, and I watched it spiral down to the rushing water below. “Just one year. No time at all, considering you’re a long time dead.”

“I still think you’re insane. Why should I trust you?”

He grinned. “You, my friend, are a good judge of character.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out, holding it out to me in his closed fist. “Call this your insurance policy.”