Creepy Pasta

The Tale of Robert Elm

Hey guys, this story is one of my personal favorites! It's long, enjoyable, and has a twisted plot! This story will be split into three halfs because how long it is, hope you enjoy it as much as me! Creep on!
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The Tale of Robert Elm



Part I

The lights of the Seattle skyline suddenly ignite as the city comes alive with the sounds and sights of night. In a run-down bar a lone man sits beneath the hum of a florescent overhead light as he holds his whiskey in shaky hands. The man is an enigma. He appears at The Spade habitually at 10pm and leaves just before dawn, ordering the same refreshment each time, a tall glass of Irish whiskey. Never speaking words far from "The usual..." or the occasional grunt or whisper, he is a shadow to everyone. To the passerby, this man is just a nobody. He is merely a bum who went down on his luck and turned to the bottle like many before him. To those who know however, the man's name is Robert Elm, and he has a story to tell.

The night was fraught with frigid rain and sleet. The typically lively Spade was deserted, except for Robert. He sat in his usual spot. Back left table, facing the wall, Hunched over with his beverage in total silence say for the hum of the light and the drumming of the bartender's fingers on the metal cash register. Over the years that Elm had drifted in as the sun dipped below the horizon, the bartender had grown curious of his motives. Though he told his customers the same old "lost his job... wants to unwind" excuse, in his heart he knew there was something off kilter about the whiskey loving shadow. Tonight would be different; the bartender bit his lip, took a deep breath, and approached his loyal customer.


The barkeep placed his hand on the table and inquired in the friendliest of tones "How ya doin?" Robert jolted upright as if he had heard a gunshot. He slowly lifted his head and peered deep into the bartenders face with his wide gray eyes. He possessed an unsettling and powerful stare that pierced the air in a way the bartender had never seen before.

His mouth slowly slid open as he grumbled "fine... and you?" The bartender was stunned. He had expected the old geezer's usual response of a few quiet mumbles but was greeted by a question that was startlingly normal.

"I'm... I'm just fine..." the bartender said "So... Mr... I've been meanin' to ask ya..." Elm's slowly graying eyebrows perked with anticipation. "Why do you come here all the time?"

The drunkard chuckled and asked in return "Why do you care what an old man like me does with his time?"

"Because..." the bartender said with a look of confusion "...you have come to my bar at the same time of the night every night for the past twelve years and I am just now hearing you speak... I think that's reason enough for me to ask." The old man burst into laughter that lasted nearly a full minute.

Finally his outburst died off and he asked "You wanted to know... Why I wasn't talking?"

"Yes!" yelled the bartender, "It's been a riddle I've been trying to figure out about you for years!"

Robert sat his drink on the table and said "Well well new friend... honestly... I was waiting for you to ask me that question, and now that we have that elephant out of the room, have a seat across from me." The bartender obliged, took a seat across from his new acquaintance and, with a look of sheer amazement on his face he asked

"So let me get this straight... You never said a word to anyone in this bar for twelve years because you were waiting for someone to come to you?"

"Yep..." The shade replied as the bartender gave a short laugh and continued.

"Well sir, what you have been waiting for so long to tell someone?"

Robert Elm looked the bartender square in the eye and said "My story of course." The bartender gave a quizzical expression as the drinker went on, never breaking his gaze. "The story of why I ended up here, the story of how I narrowly escaped death itself, and since... well... Since I don't see anyone else here, you sir, are going to be the first one in a long time to hear my tale... You're in for a treat!" The old man cracked a crooked smile.

"Well, let's hear it then!" the bartender said and Robert chuckled again.

"That's the spirit kid! Grab a drink and get comfortable, you're in for a quite a tale!"


And so, Robert Elm began his story.


It all began back in November 1962. I was living in a small town in rural Iowa. Back then everybody knew everyone else like family; it was a safe place, that's why my family settled down there back when the area was a barren patch of farmland. Through the entirety of my teenage years I was chasing a girl named Elizabeth... I can practically see her now... As time went by our relationship grew. After high school we bought up her uncle's house on 4th street and slowly learned to live together as a soon to be married pair. This was a struggle to say the least. Back when I was a younger man I had a fiery temper that seemed to grow as we became closer to one another.

I remember one specific instance when I heard she had wrecked my dad's Ford... I... I hit her across the face with a trashcan lid... I had never regretted anything more in my life, it wasn't even her fault. Every morning for the next month I would come downstairs to see the pale red bruise on her face and immediately get too choked up to speak. It was a wonder she kept me around. One night everything fell apart. I can't even remember why, but she left me on the side of the road and told me to "Find your own way home you sack o' crap!" I remember my heart sinking as she pulled away, and I began to wander the side of the empty country road.

I'm unsure of how I got so sidetracked, but after about an hour of hysterical rambling I had ended up halfway into one of the cornfields bordering the only road in and out of town. There I was, sobbing profusely, lashing out at the corn stalks with my fists, and wailing "Elizabeth!" and "I'm sorry!" at the top of my lungs with only the birds and the occasional scarecrow bearing witness. I hobbled aimlessly for what felt like hours, screaming and crying over what I had put my beloved fiancé through until I decided to sit down in a barren patch about fifteen feet across to catch my breath and form an apology for my eventual homecoming.

After inspecting the area for any signs of danger I laid my head down in the soft dirt to rest my eyes. Several hours of blissful tear-free sleep passed before I was pulled awake by rustling in the stalks. My heart skipped a beat and a chill ran down my spine, I bolted upright. Before me a massive shape garbed in a shimmering black cloak slid out from the rows of crops. It moved towards me slowly, as if it were floating across the ground, though its feet were clearly visible and it appeared to be human. It had pale wrinkled hands that hung at its sides as it drifted closer. It drooped its hooded head and spoke squarely into my face in a dry monotone.

"Good evening traveler."

Stunned I got up from the dirt and asked "Who are you?"

He answered "Just a man on his way to a meeting."

I looked at him, bewildered. "Why are you here?" I asked.

He looked up and said "I enjoy taking the scenic routs, so much more peaceful than the hustle and bustle of the roadsides. Now what I am wondering is who you are and why are you here." As I look back I am surprised at how eager I was to reveal so much of myself to a total stranger.

"My name is Robert," I said sheepishly "My girlfriend dumped me out here 'cause we got in a fight and I hit her and she cried and... and..." The tears were welling in my eyes again.

"Say no more, friend," the man interrupted as he waved his hand. "I offer you a proposition, you may come with me, attend my meeting, my friends and I shall cheer you up, and we will take you back to your home in the morning. How does that sound?"

A smile slowly formed on my face as I thanked the hooded figure. I reached out to shake his hand for his patronage but he quickly recoiled claiming there was no need to thank him.

Together we made our way through the remainder of the field and into the forest that formed an insulated border between patches of farm land. As we walked I had more time to examine my new friend's figure. He was a titan of a man to say the least. With hands that could easily cover my own twice over. Blending into the trees themselves, he towered over me at what I would assume to be well over seven feet. He moved with surprising agility for someone of his size, darting through the branches and over roots at a speed a tad slower than a jog. I had to walk nearly twice as fast to keep up. His robes still shimmered as they did in the corn field, though the moon was no longer visible. Oddly, no matter how fast the man moved, his hood never failed to conceal his face. Growing bored of silence, I struck up conversation.

"So... What's your name?" I asked

The man glanced down and told me "You may call me Lombard; it is one of my many monikers."

"Okay Lombard, who are these friends of yours and what is this meeting and... and where are we going?"

"Just a meeting, friend, held here in the woods with some close acquaintances of mine. You needn't worry about it Robert. Think of it as more of a party; it will take your mind off of your troubles."

It was at this moment I realized what I was doing the exact opposite of what society had taught me. I was found lying in field and decided to walk off with some strange hooded man to go and meet his friends in the woods. Heartbreak can drive people to do some crazy things...

It wasn't long before we saw a light in the distance. As we grew nearer the lights turned out to be a ring of torches lining a circular clearing containing rows of chairs and tables. An altar, draped with red cloth sat in the middle of it all. At each of the tables sat groups of people dressed similarly to Lombard, some of them had their faces exposed and hoods down

"We have arrived!" said the Lombard with glee. "Sit down amongst the others and help yourself to some food and drink, the festivities will begin soon!"

I made my way to one of the less talkative groups and grabbed a free seat. As I recall, it was the only seat that wasn't taken. Next to me sat an old couple and a younger man with his hood up. When I asked each of them why they were here I got... a less than ideal response. The couple started cackling as if they had just heard the greatest joke of their lives and the hooded man just grunted something I couldn't make out. Seeing no entertainment in the people around me I decided to try the food. There where the occasional bits of bread surrounded by meats of all shapes and sizes.

Having eaten a filling meal in town a few hours before this all began I was not exactly starving so I decided to give the wine a try, which was in goblets sitting in front of each chair. I took a small sip and my mind took a kick in the pants. My vision became blurred with color and I began to choke on my own tongue. The old woman told me that it stops hurting after the third glass and burst into sickening laughter. After about five minutes the effects of the drink finally subsided and I silently poured the rest onto the ground... I didn't think any of them would notice. Suddenly, a bell rang out and the dinners stood up from their chairs in unison and approached the center of the clearing. Lombard made his way over as he walked me towards the center.

"How did you enjoy the refreshments? The guests?" he asked.

I held my tongue about my unpleasant experience at the table and said "Everything was great! I've calmed down quite a bit now! What's next?"

"Excellent, my friend! I'm sure you will patch things up with that girl after tonight and I'm glad to have been of assistance to you, but now we have business to attend to."

We found ourselves standing in the center of a circle of the hooded guests, all of them with hoods up and hands folded in front of them. Lombard instructed me to sit in the center of the ring. When I objected he told me this was just a formality in order for the group to accept my presence amongst them for the night, I knelt as I was told and Lombard took his place at the crimson altar.

As I glanced around me all of the robed people seemed to be emanating a strange droning sound that rose and fell as the minutes passed. I looked up at my mountainous guide who had turned to face the center of the circle and to my amazement had drawn back his hood to reveal a sight I would never forget. On Lombard's long, broad shoulders sat the head of a goat, jet black save for a stripe of white between its pale green eyes and spiraling ivory colored horns that curled backward behind his ears. The... thing that stood in front of me lifted his hands into the air and the droning immediately ceased.

Lombard's head reeled backward as he shouted into the night "Ladies and gentlemen of the Black Circle! I present to you: The Pale!"

The crowd roared with cheers and jubilation

"On this night we shall end the torment! And bring about a new era of peace for our order!"

The younger man I sat next to earlier approached the orator.

"My lordship" He whispered as he bowed on one knee "I witnessed him earlier, he has not accepted the purifier. We cannot continue until he has." He then retreated back to his place and resumed the stance.

"Is that so..." said Lombard quizzically "Well then! I am sorry to delay my children but the sacrament must wait!"

The circle answered the statement with boos and howls of disapproval. A large member drew a curved blade from his robes and approached me. I attempted to stand but was pulled down to my knees by an unseen force.

"For the love of Sekra! I've waited my whole life for this moment!" The man shouted as he flipped the knife in his hand.

"Stop you fool! You will undo everything!" Lombard roared as he latched on to the man's arms.

The last memory I have of that night was of the gargantuan, tree-like form of Lombard grappling with the hooded man until they both crashed to the ground in front of me. In the tangle of limbs the handle of the man's knife struck me squarely between the eyes and I lost consciousness.