What My Best Friend Told Me

Author’s Note: *Disclaimer* this is purely a fictional work of my imagination, some events are inspired by true experiences, however very loosely. When I say loosely I mean like a drunk girls grip upon sanity. This was purely my own work, posted to the creepy pasta website, however I’ll just assume all of you are too honorable to steal this work.

This day started like many of my days. Waking up well past noon with a sour taste in my mouth as sunlight streamed through my slightly parted curtains casting a yellow brightness that blinded me. Me being the weird kid and not having either plans or friends, anymore. I decided to crack into a dance with dragons, the latest game of thrones book. And as I sat in my overly messy room. Clothes lined the floor like a makeshift carpet and upon my un-made bed I read. Yeah I know I’m boring like any 16 year old nerd would be. I was exploring the adventures davos and then danearys. But not 10 minutes into my little read the sound of tires errupted outside of my house, with the scream of burning rubber upon old asphalt and my mother yelling enough profanities to make the devil blush, I took this as my que to see the situation. I rushed out of my bedroom and down the hall hurtling through the blue chipped front door of my house. “Mom, mom what happened?!” I exclaimed as she was going into a panic attack.

Most of what she said was panic induced nonsense, but I listened as I stood on the rough mulch of the family garden. “Berry opened up his truck door and was just staring at me with this look in his eye and then he almost hit the fence drifting around the corner, he could have killed me!” she was shaken up and crying and I ushered her inside and I followed quickly dialling the police.

Now it may not sound like much, most would pass it off as a teenager being wild or a Daredevil. But I knew the truth. And I suppose to fully understand I would have to explain. It started about a year ago. Berry and I we were two country kids and best friends. I had known Berry since the 5th grade and he was for the most part what I considered my one true friend in life. When others would put me down Berry would pick me up. But never the less our friendship didn’t have a falling out per say. I guess people would say we grew apart in life after he got a girlfriend and neither one of us had time to spare with school. But in time Berry attempted suicide and was mentally evaluated, after he came back from the hospital he gradually grew more and more unstable with each passing day until one day I received a random message from after I had assumed we had all but forgotten each other . To this day I will never forget the contents of that message. Berry went into full detail about how he wanted to kill a man. And I mean kill one. Just a random guy, he went into full detail about strangling the person so he could feel the life leave them and then dip the body in concrete.

Needless to say I was pretty shaken by this but I urged him to put the thought from his mind and delete the evidence. It was only later I realized that wasn’t the smartest move and I could have avoided after what came next.

What came next was at the end of my sophomore year. I was hanging out on the last day of school with my normal group in the corner of 3rd hour, a small white-painted room with motivational posters on the wall. I was talking about where the next fallout would take place nerd style with Ricky, klyde and cat. All of us wearing various TV show attire and jeans just chatting. When Berry started to speak rather aggressively. We were in a crowded classroom and naturally all heads turned to his direction. He was in a heated discussion with Marcus, probably because Marcus couldn’t buy him cigarettes. Berry smiled and said in a chilling voice.

“If you spent my money then why do I keep you around, I’ll be at your house later and you will give me my money.”

There was no or else to what he said, he didn’t have to say it. But later that day to my horror I watched Marcus pull out the parking lot going to fast. Much to fast and then he didn’t stop, he crashed right into the church across from the school. The sounds of crunching metal and breaking wood. Marcus never screamed, Marcus died because his brake lines had been cut cleanly into two pieces.

Not long after that incident everyone was convinced it was Berry. But there was no proof. Not long after that Berry tried to reconnect with me but I ignored all calls and all texts, hell I even started only joining private parties on Xbox live. Of course I’m normally only on with my cousin who would always say “f**k that guy” as playfully as humanly possible.

Still it wasn’t long untill I got random calls that when I answered the caller would just hang up. I passed this off as paranoia for a awhile until Berry would walk down the street to his girlfriends house and stare at mine on the porch.

Then it stopped. One month with no creepy staring or dropped calls and I was relieved because hopefully now, the craziness would end for good.

Oh how wrong I was.

Its been five years since highschool. I moved out to a nice stretch of land in eastern Oklahoma, surrounded by woods and yet only a half hour away from civilization. I didn’t mind the drive to work everyday. It was decent money. Still I found it ironic that I lived in a house in the woods but worked in computer forensic sciences. I was pretty much a white hat in the woods with the mediocre at best internet. The house itself was nothing special it was a living area and a kitchen split into one area and down the hall to the left was the bathroom, and on the right was a bedroom. It wasn’t much but a 30 year mortgage just because of the land. But I loved the way the trees smelled and that I could shoot on my back porch without disturbing the neighbors. Hell I even got my cousin to come up and stay, I think he loved it more than I did honestly. It was on one of the occasions when Alex was staying over that thinks got weird.

See I became a gun lover shortly after moving out to the middle of no where. Still guns were expensive so I only owned a Colt m1911 with an original black steel finish and polished wooden grip. It held eight .45 caliber rounds so long as you put one in the chamber before putting in the magazine. I’m there then that I owned a break open single shot .22 and a Remington 870 for home defense.

On this occasion we had every firearm out, I was shooting cans with the .22 since that ammo was cheap, when my phone started ringing.

It was like it was off of that movie taken where the kidnapper spoke into the phone with that deep distorted voice. But instead all it said was, “A pink 22 isn’t going to stop me.”

Maybe I don’t react like normal people but all I said was “ok” unholstered the .45 from my hip and shot three rounds into the woods each giving a deafening roar. The caller was still on so I spoke into my phone ” that will ” and hung up.

“What the f**k was that about man,” Alex said still covering his ears.

Some prank caller said a .22 wouldn’t stop him so I showed him what could.

Needless to say I stayed awake on the recliner in the living room with the 870 across my lap. It was sometime around Dawn when I got the second call from the same number.

“Remember Marcus.”

“Oh hey Berry since you wanna play crazy let’s see how crazy you are with a slug tearing through your sweet meats, we both know you won’t do anything but cut brake lines or try and torch my house, both attempt are Kill on sight situations, say high to the cameras I have up for deer while your poking around, chances are I’m not calling the EMT to save your a*s so f**k off and have a nice night,” I hung up the phone instantly regretting what I had said. I didn’t really wanna kill anyone but I was trying to scare him from the attempt.

The phone rang again and I answered.

“I’m not Berry,” the line hung up. And I still passed it off see on my mind he was trying to rattle me and I wasn’t going to let him.

Three days passed without incident and I drove Alex home when I got back my door was broken off of its hinges. I drew my Colt and I checked right and then left.

I checked the rest of the house and there was no one inside. I’m not much of a handy man so I called a company to fix my doors and but and extra padlock on it.

I figured I’d check the deer cameras. I looked on my monitor and to my horror I saw a short bulky figure sprint up to my door and kick it, it took him three attempts but the door finally wobbled inwards. I didn’t have any cameras placed inside the actual house I never expected him to get that far.

I redialed the number that had been harassing me, I admit not my smartest move by far. Berry answered and simply said, “These woods are a nice place to a camp, join me if you want I have dogs on the fire.”

The next 20 minutes where me loading guns and attaching ammo where ever I could. The 870 had bullet loops but I had to stick an extra 45 mag in my waistband.

I smeared all exposed flesh with black coloring to camo myself in the night.

You may be thinking you only took one extra reload per firearm? But 00 (double ought) buckshot will turn your insides to outsides and a 45 round will rip straight through whatever it hits, and since these were hollow points they would mushroom and turn your organs to mush. I only needed one bullet to put him down and the rest to make sure he was down. I began creeping through the woods it was night fall and the fire wasn’t hard to see. I began commando crawling like in the movies. But I was making too much noise I resumed approach on feather feet. To find a figure sat unmoving by the fire. I aimed and pulled the trigger. The shotguns barrel exploded. I mean literally exploded throwing me against a tree. I could feel steel fragments digging into my face and arms. The figure stood and chuckled.

“Now would Berry be smart enough to pull that off,” he said. His real voice was a wheezing rasp. He cackled like a madman.

For once real fear shook me to my core. A fear so intense I only noticed I was p*****g myself because it was stinging the wounds in my legs from the shotgun explosion.

He turned towards me to reveal a guy fawkes mask.

“Wha-what are you,” I mumbled.

“Not Berry,” he said grabbing my leg and dragging me into the woods. The shock of it all I guess I passed out. When I came to he was still dragging me. I worked out the 45 from its holster and said “didn’t sabotage this one dumbass and pulled the trigger. If it hurt him he didn’t show it. So I fired again and again and again until the chamber stayed back.

He dropped my leg and picked me up with one arm, my feet dangling uselessly. “I’M NOT BERRY,” he said somewhere between a primal growl and a hiss and then he threw me against a tree, I felt my shoulder blade crunch and then my skull hit it with a dull thunck and it was lights out. When I came to I was sprawled out in an alley way in town. My guns were gone and when I checked my pockets all I found was a note with a hastily written note.

MY HOME MY HOME STAY AWAY DONT COME BACK NEVER RETURN NEVER RETURN STAY AWAY STAY AWAY. And taped to it was a Polaroid shot of Berry’s lifeless corpse. Turns out he did make the first phone call, but whatever it was that killed him resumed the trend, I didn’t know why I was alive until I started researching it, see my property used to be an old Apache village, the Apache’s respected ones willingness to fight back and courage. I think it let me live because I fought him. But one thing is certain whatever that thing was. It wasn’t Berry.

  • TheWatchers

    We Love It (We Are Watching You)

  • Puddin Tane

    Your story needs work. It sounds like It wants to be good, but there are a LOT of grammatical errors running through this. I have to wonder if you even bothered to proof read this before you posted it. I didnt get half way through before giving up. Slow down, proof read, read aloud to yourself, (This will help you hear anything that doesn’t sound right), and think about what it is you want to say. Sometimes if you write it out before you type it, it will give you a chance to change the wording. I’ve done that and have found that it comes out better. Yes, it’s extra work, but you get better quality in the long run. Hope this helps you down the road.

    • Nastalgicphsyco

      sorry my grammar in school litterly was a worksheet once a week, teachers did not care they always treated it like a chore rather than a very important tool in writing. Trying to write when my grammar education was neglected is like talking with a stutter, no matter how good your point is no one understands because they simply can’t. But hey that’s education for you in the Bible belt, you have students more gifted then teachers and teachers so under paid they just don’t really care anymore. “Here do this worksheet while I grade papers so I can get upset that you didn’t understand”, at least now my English teacher for highschool makes more of an emphasis towards grammar but even then it’s only one day a week a lesson is taught, the education system is broken, one hour per class is not enough time for anyone to grasp so much information unless they cram for tests and even then they forget it by next week. I know it says

      • Puddin Tane

        Have you tried going to the book store to look for workbooks on grammar? I know it isn’t the same as having a teacher help you with it, but maybe you can work on it on your own. That’s what a lot of people do. When someone won’t help them they do it themselves. You’ll be amazed at whst you can accomplish. Good luck. I challenge you. I “throw down the gauntlet”. Do you accept?

  • Robert Gibbons

    Great short story. Aside from grammar which I don’t really care about because I’m the same and can read it cause I’m not a moron. I loved this story. Everything I want from a creepypasta. Back story, mystery, imagination, suspence and above all just a touch of creepy. Nice story