Big thanks to Lady Nopeingham for use of her awesome character! Do you guys enjoy your horror narrated? You should check her out on YouTube … if you’re brave enough…
Now a CreepyPasta
This is going to sound weird, I know, but please, bear with me. I wanted to ask the paranormal community for help with my haunted house, but I was afraid of Reddit trolls. I tend to trust too easily and felt I wouldn’t have time to sort out which responses were genuine. I figured there must be a dozen other places to tell my story, preferably one kids didn’t use; and indeed, there are.
Out of several search results, I chose Blewit. The description read, “Want Reddit without the misfit trolls? That’s us!” It seemed like the typical knockoff that always follows a popular brand. Aside from the blue logo and “kool” points instead of “karma”, there was no difference. Just to be safe, I read a few recent posts to gauge the community’s sincerity. I was very pleased with what I saw; everyone was kind, courteous, and several users claimed to receive helpful guidance. I made an account, joined the b/haunted forums, and told my story.
Below is a copy of my original post, but things have escalated drastically since.
Hi, I am thirty-three, live alone and have always been a die-hard skeptic. I am a very logical person, I believe in science and facts; that is to say, I don’t come to you lightly. I moved to the country to save money, but I’ve always preferred the quiet life. When I found this big house in the forest for such a low price, I knew there had to be a catch.
I didn’t have extra time or money to spend on major repairs if all the electrical needed to be replaced or it didn’t have central air; that’s the kind of deal-breaker I expected. Instead, I learned the previous occupants died horribly last year. Martin Hayes murdered his wife and son before committing suicide. I can’t tell you the relief I felt; I struggled not to show my excitement as I negotiated the price even lower.
Three weeks later, I was settled into my new home and loving everything about it. The first two days were quiet, but Friday night, I was on the couch when soft, persistent knocking sounded at the door. It startled me, because I don’t have neighbors, and I would have seen headlights had someone came down the driveway.
I stole a glance through the peephole, careful not to make my presence known. It was dark, but not pitch black; I could see well enough to know nothing was there. My heart raced, and I thought it would burst. Trying to find the light-switch, I abandoned stealth as my hand fumbled along the wall. Finally, with a soft click, the front steps and driveway were brightly lit.
The knocks stopped instantly, and all was silent. Leaving the light on, I checked the locks, but when nothing else occurred, I returned to Netflix. While preparing for bed, the incident was almost forgotten. It is important you know my bedroom is on the second floor, and that no trees are near the windows, because that is where it next occurred.
After drifting off, the sound of nearby tapping startled me. Unable to remember if the upstairs windows were secured, I leapt to my feet and screamed at the sight of a distorted face, but it was only my reflection. I pressed my phone’s flashlight to the glass, illuminating the ground below. There is nothing that would allow someone to reach the second floor, nor so much as a bush to conceal their location, but the yard was empty.
This afternoon, there was more knocking as I worked at my desk. The office has a perfect view of the front door, but the moment I approached the window, it stopped; once again, no one was there. Feeling braver in the daytime, I looked around, searching for any sign of a visitor. When I still found nothing, I drove a few miles in each direction to confirm there were no neighbors in walking distance.
Upon returning to the driveway, I saw the brief image of a face watching me from an upstairs window. My blood froze; I’ve never experienced such fear. It quickly disappeared behind the curtains, but there is no mistaking what I saw. It simply isn’t possible for someone to be there. After a thorough search of each room, I began writing this. I don’t know anything about the supernatural; please, will someone help me?
—CountryHaunts13, Saturday 3:11pm
Do you see how simple the matter was in the beginning? I hope you can hear the sincerity in my words. You must understand… I was already terrified my ignorance would be used against me. I could not stand the thought of sifting through dozens of responses knowing ninety percent would be fake. Now that my fears are reality, it is that much more difficult… though I no longer need advice. I simply wish to warn you of the dangers on that shady website.
I finished my work and ate dinner before the next round of knocks began. Immediately checking Blewit, I was delighted to see three comments, one of which was actual advice. The username, Lady Nopeingham, was from the original posts I reviewed. Whoever she is, she seemed to be the most helpful person in the community; I secretly hoped she would respond to me as well.
Lady Nopeingham 4:07pm:
It sounds like the previous residents decided to stick around. Ghosts are like dogs defending their territory. You must show them you’re the alpha. Next time, open the door, and firmly state your grievances. This will intimidate it, thereby ending inconvenient behavior. Whatever you do, never treat it with respect.
I breathed a sigh of relief at such a simple solution; I worried it would call for something extreme, like an exorcism, but this was something I actually excel at. Though, obviously, it wasn’t. If it were, I would not be here now, on a completely different site with worse complaints.
Please, if you are kind enough to still be here, do not waste your time correcting this advice. I’m afraid it is a lesson I have already learned, as you will soon see over the course of my following posts.
I want to thank you all for your kind words of support, especially Lady Nopeingham, whose advice gave me great comfort. That being said, I worry I may have inadvertently made the situation worse. Within an hour of seeing your message, the knocks returned. I tiptoed to the door, ripped it open, and screamed, “This is my house now, asshole! Get the fu—!”
My words were cut off as a blast of freezing air rushed past, leaving me breathless. I slammed the door and stumbled to the bedroom, feeling safer upstairs. When nothing more happened, I began to relax – somehow convincing myself the experience to be normal… but I now see how foolish that was.
I retired early, feeling confident of a peaceful rest, but soon the frantic cries of a child penetrated my sleep-deprived brain. I shot up, too confused to think, but moved instinctively. The wails intensified as I stepped into the hall, covering my ears in attempt to dull the noise. The sounds were coming from the boy’s old room. Trevor Hayes was only six when his father strangled him, but he watched his mother die first.
Learning details of the tragic event was clearly a mistake, but I can’t erase the knowledge now. Still following your advice, I tried to be firm, but found it difficult to scold the poor child’s restless spirit. Even so, the noise did not stop until I entered his room; after which, I was finally able to return to bed.
Two hours later, loud, violent bangs shook the door on its hinges. Furiously stomping across the hardwood floor, I hesitated at the memory of my previous encounter. Instead of opening it, I unleashed my rage on the closed door, kicking it and screaming obscenities. Was that a good thing to do? Or should I have opened it?
At some point during my tantrum, the knocking stopped. When I finally calmed, all was blessedly silent. Nothing else woke me, but random cold spots are now a common occurrence. It is not a heating issue; it only lasts a few minutes… but it worries me. I’m alone and frightened, please, is there anything else you can tell me?
—CountryHaunts13, Sunday 8:23am
I didn’t have to wait long for a response. It seems once the Lady finds a new victim, she doesn’t stray far. Unfortunately, I was still imagining a kind, elderly woman; one who was lonely and lived for these conversations. Oh, she lives for them alright! Hardly ten minutes passed before my phone chimed with a new message.
Lady Nopeingham 8:32am:
The blast of cold air was, in fact, a sign of success. You certainly did not, for example, permit the spirit entry; that would be ridiculous. You are likely experiencing increased activity due to multiple spirits. If that is the case – continue asserting dominance. Don’t worry, you’re doing great! Remember, be harsh; show no mercy! This will help them understand they are not welcome.
Do you have sage in your home? Ghosts are highly attracted to it; in fact, there are some who prey on the unaware by recommending it as a repellent. If anyone suggests burning sage, cease all contact immediately! They mean you harm!
Are you still with me? Lady’s words filled me with confidence; my own naïveté churns the stomach. Being so grateful for someone to share my experience with, I didn’t think to ask obvious questions… like, why did she feel the need to point out I didn’t “permit the spirit entry” when such a thought was never expressed? Can anyone tell me that?
I bet you can, but don’t bother; the answer is already known. The worst part is someone else did recommend burning sage and I blocked them because of Nopeingham… it’s all so depressingly typical of my luck. Needless to say, a very long, very unpleasant update was close at hand.
I must thank you for the warning. I did have sage – which I threw out immediately – but it hasn’t seemed to help. I followed your advice, but conditions continue to worsen. Is there anything to explain the strange reactions I am experiencing?
After removing the unwanted herbs, I tried to continue my work in the office. Soon, the knocking returned, and I screamed in surprise. It sounded like someone was trying to break down the door; I fully expected the wood to splinter, but by some miracle, it held strong. My mind was blank with terror, I struggled to form words, but finally managed, “Eat shit… ghost bitch!” Pathetic, I know.
Instead of being intimidated, it seemed to grow angrier; the door flew open with a loud bang, bouncing off the wall so hard it slammed shut again! After a few minutes of silence, I thought it was over, but no. Loud footsteps clacked down the hall, like a woman in high heels. I almost fainted when the sound matched perfectly with the appearance of a shadow beneath the door!
It stayed there for several minutes – not knocking, just standing – before continuing on its way. At the end of the hall, where I clearly heard it go – there is nothing but a linen closet. When able to force my legs into action, I ran; I wanted out of the house, but most importantly, I needed to purchase a few things.
I definitely couldn’t afford any of it, but if this doesn’t qualify for the emergency savings fund, what does? After installing the cameras and motion sensor flood lights on each side of the house, I felt a little more confident; honestly, they were needed anyway, especially in the country. What surprised me was the lights triggering every five minutes. I reviewed the recorded footage from my tablet but never saw what set them off.
I’m glad the cameras are outside. Last night was the worst night of my life… I couldn’t watch the video even if it were recorded. At least this way I might eventually come to think of it as a nightmare. My exhaustion finally caught up to me; I fell asleep immediately upon trying, but I’m not sure what woke me. Only that I wish it hadn’t.
I was lying flat on my back, covers down to the waist and paralyzed. I panicked at the realization, but I was helpless. Studying the shadows on the ceiling, I tried to discern each shape. In movies, when someone said, “It felt like I wasn’t alone”, I used to call bullshit. I didn’t understand how a mere presence could possibly affect another, but now I do.
I can’t find the words to express how, but I knew I wasn’t alone. No matter what logic I implore, I can’t deny I felt it. I struggled to see in each direction. With great effort, my head moved just enough to bring the room into view. At first, nothing seemed out of place. The doors were still closed, the laundry baskets were nearby, and the tv hung silently in the corner, over the chair full of clothes.
That’s when I remembered I didn’t have time to empty the dryer, and my heart stopped working. Until that moment, it throbbed, painfully, but at the realization I couldn’t identify the strange form, it came to an abrupt halt. My eyes bore into the shadowy corner, willing it to take the shape of something innocent, but what small hopes I possessed were brutally ripped away when the figure moved.
He stopped at the foot of my bed, looking down on me with the most hate-filled eyes I’ve ever seen. I recognized his black hair and pudgy, bearded face from articles I found on the Hayes family. Martin’s ghost bore the same thick glasses and jagged chin scar, but even without those features, I will never forget his dark, brown eyes of pure evil.
The chest pain increased with every second my heart refused to beat; I almost hoped it would kill me before anything else could. The seconds stretched into an endless eternity where time held no meaning as the twisted, dead man’s apparition glared into my very soul. Finally, his thin smile parted, exposing rotted teeth as his tongue licked around his peeling, chapped lips; I watched in horror as one hand slowly came to rest on my foot.
Even through several blankets, it felt like a solid block of ice moving up my leg with his each deliberate step. In the terrible moment his hand reached my waist, transferring from sheet to skin, I blacked out from pure terror. Unfortunately, I regained consciousness almost immediately as the dead fingers crawled up my shoulder, coming to rest on my neck. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks as I silently begged for death. When the hand suddenly clamped around my throat, I thought my wish would be granted. My chest burned with a fire I never imagined possible as the world faded around me.
This morning, my throat feels raw, and it hurts to speak. Somehow, there are no physical marks, but I would almost prefer it. This is making me feel crazy; I don’t know what to do! I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I can’t waste money on a hotel room. Please, Lady Nopeingham! Anyone! I beg you, help me!
—CountryHaunts13, Monday 7:02am
Do you see what she did to me?! That dark, evil temptress of night— do you?!
Of course you do, forgive me. It’s just… her next response… there’s simply no words. That was my last update on Blewit, though I didn’t yet know it.
Lady Nopeingham 7:08am:
Oh, you poor, poor dear! How dreadfully terrible! Your tears cause me anguish, and in no way sustain me. Worry no more, my friend, I will be with you every step of the way until we have seen this nightmare through!
Yes, it is obvious now. You first encountered the young boy and his mother, but now you face the murderous fiend himself. We must proceed with caution, but I have complete faith in you. Are you familiar with pentagrams? They are symbols of protection. I will email you a picture; do not waste time with an internet search.
With ink, draw the image in each room as you experience activity, especially the wall above your bed. This will ensure deep, peaceful rest. Best of luck, dear Jamie, I eagerly await the next update.
It’s worse I believed her after such an obvious mistake, but I was so frightened by the dangers at home, I didn’t see the obvious red flag of my name in her response —that’s how completely she held my trust… that demon banshee of hell!
I wasted no time in opening her email and with a jumbo sharpie, I drew pentagrams in each room. Once again wrapped in a blanket of false security, I ate breakfast and worked in the office for a few hours before deciding to take a nap. I’ve slept so little in the last few nights; I could barely keep my eyes open.
I had such a vivid nightmare; I may never sleep soundly again. In the dream, I was Martin Hayes; I not only saw everything from his perspective, but I also genuinely believed myself to be him. Even though I knew nothing of this family before moving here, I possessed all the dead man’s memories. It is not an exaggeration to say I would have preferred the role of victim.
I never knew such pure, blind, rage existed, and it’s unlikely I will ever feel clean again. My soul has been marred by something black and evil that will never leave me. The longer I am awake, the more finer details fade, but the emotions will haunt me forever.
Martin was forced to work late that fateful night, but it didn’t stop him from opening his flask at the usual time. Unfortunately, he then crushed a coworker’s foot via forklift, costing him the job entirely. He went to a bar, and his foul temper worsened with each drink. By time he arrived home, poor Helen never stood a chance.
Events would have unfolded the same regardless, but the fight started when his dinner was not waiting on the table. Helen recognized the dangerous look in his eyes, and with a sadly sincere, desperate apology, she begged forgiveness. The terror on her face is still vivid enough to make me nauseas, but it is nothing compared to what came next.
Fully aware of the small boy watching from the doorway, Martin grabbed his wife by the hair, pulling her to the ground. I can still feel her brunette locks tangled in my fingers as she was dragged into the kitchen. Trevor screamed for his mother as Martin straddled her crumpled body and began punching.
I’ve never been in a fight before… it’s nothing like tv… you never think of punching someone as painful, but it is. I felt my knuckles splitting wider as Helen’s bones shattered from each impact. It didn’t stop until her face was no longer recognizable. I can’t believe such damage could be caused by fists alone…
The sound of retreating footsteps earned Martin’s undivided attention. His resentment toward Trevor was indescribable; the boy was too expensive, always wanting something new and outgrowing his clothes, but no more! He found his son hiding beneath the bed and pulled him out roughly.
The child’s screams were cut off by two large hands at his throat. Martin stared into Trevor’s wet, brown eyes as he choked the life from him. He felt no remorse after, and did not place his neck in the noose until a week later, when the first police cruiser appeared.
I awoke screaming. Nothing about that experience was dream-like; I don’t pretend to know how it is possible, but I am certain events unfolded exactly as seen.
That is when I decided to do my own research, as I should have from the beginning. It took hours, but with the decision to never sleep again, I had nothing but time. The information was as conflicting as I feared, but enough sites agreed on the basic facts. The knowledge you have not only lived your worst fear, but facilitated it at every step, is a burden I hope none of you ever bear.
I logged into Blewit, ready to give Lady the ass chewing of a lifetime but was surprised to see a new message from her. The time indicated she sent it ten minutes before, but I don’t understand how.
Lady Nopeingham 5:28pm
I am greatly saddened by your loss of faith. I have done my all to assist you at every turn, yet you doubt my intentions. You speak as if I am some vile creature who only wants to suck out your life essence to prolong my own! While that is not the case, rest assured, if it were – there would be no higher honor! I cannot fathom a more noble cause for one’s soul to be dedicated.
If you wish to proceed without further assistance, I am afraid that is your prerogative. It’s not as if angry, evil spirits allowed me to pinpoint your location – and the pentagrams are certainly not an invitation to retrieve fresh blood donations, don’t be absurd, Jamie! I will expect a heartfelt apology when I see you tonight. Until then, try to get some rest, you look terrible.
Obviously, after copying each message, I deleted my Blewit account and apps. Lady Nopeingham is clearly a sick, deranged individual, and I am having no further contact. She must be a hacker! That must be it; I bet she gained access to my cameras somehow! I can fix that problem!
… … I went inside only to unplug the Wi-Fi. Once I finish this last part, I’ll disable cellular data as well. I have spent several hours in my car, putting this information together – all the while dreading this very moment. I am not ready to discuss the last incident, but I can delay no longer.
Before going to bed, I scribbled over each pentagram, hoping to negate their effects, but the plan was unsuccessful. I was not roughly roused from sleep as with previous incidents. This time, a faint scratching sound stole its way into my dreams before I understood it to be real. Forcing myself to sit up, I tried to determine its source. I swung my feet to the floor, and a cold hand clamped around my ankle.
The bone felt like it would snap in the steel grip, and nails dug deep into my skin. Warm, sticky blood spilled beneath my feet as I struggled to free myself. I tried to stand but was pulled down, slamming painfully into the floor. I screamed, flailing in desperation as my body was dragged backwards. I didn’t know what would happen if it pulled me all the way under, but surely nothing good.
Finally, I felt a kick connect with something hard. Ignoring the resulting throbs that shot up my leg, I scrambled away from the bed without looking back. After fumbling my way through the door, I raced downstairs to be greeted by the pale, translucent figure of a small boy. The prominent bruises on his neck remained even in death, but my sympathies have been wholly replaced by fear.
Trevor and I stared at each other, unmoving until the sound of pursuing footsteps could be heard descending the stairs. I had no choice but to run past him if I did not want to face Martin again. For some strange reason, I believed the man to be the only one with ill intent. I suppose that confirms my complete ignorance of the subject matter, even now.
At the last moment, the child extended his small hand. I was moving too fast to dodge away when his dead, cold, fingers went into my stomach before solidifying. No word known to humans will ever be strong enough to describe the pain and fear. I was oddly fascinated by the lack of blood, but that was probably from shock.
How I went from standing to lying on my back is fuzzy, but I somehow came to be paralyzed in that state as three ghostly figures stood above me. My bladder voided itself as Helen came to kneel by my head and placed both hands into my mouth. If I had to describe the taste of her fingers as she forced my jaw open – I would guess a mixture of dirt, maggots, and rot.
How my heart continued to beat, I do not understand, but death would have been kinder than what came next. I watched in absolute horror as Martin faded from a solid man to a ghostly image before shifting into a foul, black cloud of smoke. Please understand, I say “smoke” to give you an accurate image, but the substance was completely solid as it forced its way down my throat.
I thought I would suffocate when it cut off all airflow, but I remained conscious for every miserable second. How my jaw was not dislocated is equally puzzling… nor do I know how long I laid there. When the last wisps of smoke were gone, so were Helen and Trevor. I was left alone, laying in a crumpled, soiled heap at the base of the stairs.
It is clear I cannot stay here anymore; I know that. I plan to remain in the car until morning, then I will pack a bag and go to my sister’s. I don’t care how much money I lose in selling this place, but I will never enter that house again. When I find an apartment, I can hire movers or buy new stuff.
I think I will be safe if I stay outside. After I am settled in at Jessie’s house, I will let everyone know I made it out safe. I feel better just knowing this will be the last night I spend here.
This is Jamie’s sister! I don’t know what you sick people are doing, but whether this is some kind of weird role playing game or just a bunch of delusional psychos, you’ve gone too far! You’ll be hearing from the police soon; I’m showing them every word of this madness!
Do you understand you pushed a real, living human-being to commit suicide?! Was that your intention?! I was the one who found the body! Jamie was in the bathtub, wrists sliced, water still running, and printed copies of this thread strewn all over the place! Are you children capable of comprehending the lives you destroyed? Our parents will never recover! Do you even care?!
I will make sure each and every one of you pay for this if it’s the last thing I do! Especially you, Lady Nopeingham…
—HauntedSoul666, Thursday 5:17pm
Alert: 1 unread message
Lady Nopeingham 5:23pm
I am heartbroken to hear this tragic news! I fear there has been a terrible misunderstanding, perhaps we should meet in person. I can explain everything, including what really happened to our poor Jamie. I will pay a visit tonight, and show you how very innocent I am. See you soon.