Today’s report is a bit of an enigma, since the origin could not be traced to any specific user prior to surfacing on the Creepypasta Wiki, where it was subsequently filed in their “Cryptid” directory. But the story this anonymous author relates is particularly gruesome… so naturally, I had to share it with you.
Uploaded under the title “Day of the Shadow,” the first-hand account begins with a reference to the horror classic THE BLOB… and for good reason.
The author’s story began on an undisclosed date, during a violent microburst thunderstorm, which knocked out electricity in his area. Although he was prepared for such outages with a backup generator, candles and so forth, he opted to wait out the storm for a while.
That’s when he began to notice some of the frequent lightning strikes were casting particularly unusual shadows — “unusual” in that certain shadows seemed to remain in position even after the brief but intense flashes had faded.
That’s when he began to hear the noises.
Distinct from the relentless hammering of rain on the roof, and between the thunderclaps which rattled the walls and windows, he heard the metallic sound of something banging on or within the walls themselves. It could have been the pipes rattling in sympathetic vibration with the thunder… but the sound didn’t seem to coincide with the natural sounds of the storm; it seemed to rise and fall in pitch and volume according to a completely separate rhythm.
The next time those unusual shadows appeared, they not only remained after the flash… but one of them appeared to move.
In his half-awake daze, the author dismissed the sound as a product of a runaway imagination, enhanced by the unsettling sounds of the storm and the pitch-blackness between lightning strikes. Eventually, he drifted into a light sleep… disrupted moments later by yet another intense thunderclap.
This time, he had to use the bathroom, and did so as quickly as possible, fumbling in the dark. The rumbling sound from the walls was still rising and falling, but he tried not to worry about it, resolving to look into it in the morning.
But when the author came back to the bedroom, he suddenly snapped wide awake in terror when confronted with the impossible: he saw himself lying in the bed… or something that looked like him.
The author quickly jumped to the conclusion that he was immersed in a particularly surreal nightmare, and just wanted it to be over with as soon as possible.
He must have expressed this thought out loud… because the doppelganger in the bed suddenly turned toward him and sat up. The sudden movement was accompanied by a hideous crackling sound, as if the bones were grinding together inside its skin. It stared at him with jet-black eyes.
Then, while he watched, frozen in horror, the thing’s body began to change.
It was melting, flowing, oozing into a shapeless mass until only the head remained unaffected… and then he noticed that the sheets, the pillows, and even the top of the mattress were being pulled into the growing blob; it seemed to be consuming everything it touched. The head, remained more or less intact, looking into the author’s eyes, like a surreal nightmare reflection. It cocked slightly to one side, as if curious as to why he was immobilized with fear.
Then it smiled… and that’s when he found the strength to back away from the horror that transpired before him.
Horrid slurping, crackling noises emanated from the growing mass on the bed, as the once-human shape — illuminated only by flashes of lightning — twisted in impossible directions, reaching out tendrils that were once hands, grasping at the furniture with remarkable speed.
All the while, the thing’s smile grew impossibly large, splitting the face in half.
The author snapped out of his paralysis of terror as panic and fight-or-flight instinct took over, sending him reeling out of the room. Frantically his mind reached for some kind of quick escape or weapon against the thing… which he could hear oozing and crackling out of the bedroom and into the hallway, thumping as it expanded against the walls.
Half-mad with panic, he remembered THE BLOB — specifically, the method used to defeat the title creature in the film: it was apparently invulnerable to anything except extreme cold.
He stumbled through the darkness into the kitchen, heading directly for the refrigerator-freezer, flung open the door and grabbed as much ice as he could hold. The thing was indeed right behind him, sending whip-like tendrils out ahead of itself… so he began to throw handful after handful of ice at the huge, lumbering shape.
It had no effect whatsoever. The creature didn’t even slow down.
The only option the author could think of now was to turn on the generator, so he would at least be able to see the monster coming… not that he had any notion of how to stop it.
With the thing close behind, the electricity returned… and the author finally got a good look at the horror that pursued him.
He could still make out his own facial features in the gelatinous mass… but deeper inside, he could see vague faces of other unknown people, as well as various animals. He could make out veins of black running throughout the translucent slime, snaking across its many extremities.
In a last-ditch effort, the author grabbed the first heavy object he could find — the crossbar of a basketball goal he had been preparing to install over his garage door, currently propped against the wall by the back door.
Just as he laid his right hand on the bar, he could feel the cold, sticky mass of the creature as it came into contact with his left arm… and he instantly began to feel his flesh burn as the thing started to consume it.
As the searing pain surged through his body, he began wildly smashing at the generator, cracking open the fuel reservoir, and sending sparks flying from the motor.
As the creature closed in for the kill, it touched the searing flames, and its amorphous surface immediately blackened and shriveled, shrinking away from the intense heat… but part of it still maintained its death-grip on the author’s arm.
Realizing he had no choice, the author kicked the generator over, feeding the flames with more spilled fuel… until both he and the blob were engulfed in the resulting inferno.
Against all odds, the author escaped the house alive, but horribly disfigured by severe burns. He concludes his story from the hospital burn ward; after reading reports of the fire which consumed his home, leaving no evidence of any living thing on the property, he seems convinced he had defeated the horrid thing at last.
“So now I have this new nurse,” he writes in his final entry. “She’s a bit lifeless, and from what I can gather, incredibly hungry… and I think she wears a bit too much mascara… but she’s awfully pretty with those black, black eyes…”