CREEPYPASTA

A Hatchimal Killed My Neighbors

I’m a bachelor. I live by myself in a small house located in a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of town. Well, it was quiet until my new neighbors moved in.

They were your typical family – mom, dad, two young girls, and a teenage boy. When they settled in, I greeted them, much like normal folk do – a smile, a wave. They smiled and waved back. Nice enough, I supposed. The only gripe I had was the girls. They were obnoxious spawns of satan. I could tell how spoiled and ungrateful they were from day one, running around the yard hootin’ and hollerin’ – complaining every five seconds that they didn’t have this or that whether it be food, toys, or attention. Annoying little shits.

The boy, on the other hand, was quiet. Looked like he might have been thirteen or fourteen and was clearly going through a goth phase. Black hair, black makeup, black clothes, and spiked boots. His parents yelled at him, daily for one reason or another. The two satan spawns never even got so much as a stern talking-to. Who knows – maybe the boy was just as bad, if not worse than the girls behind closed doors. From what I could see, he kept to himself, so I liked him.

One day while doing some yardwork, I heard the parents yelling at the boy to take out the garbage. I then saw him reluctantly walk out of the house, a large black bag in hand. I decided this would be a good time to make small talk – ya know, get to know the kid, if for no other reason than to be friendly.

“Well hello over there!” I shouted across the property line. The kid just gave me a glare.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“Don’t talk to me.” He said, while shooting me an even nastier glare than the previous one.

“I’m just trying to be friendly.” I retorted.

“Fuck you.”

That little cuck. I could see why his parents didn’t like him.

“Not very neighborly, are ya?” I asked.

“Mind your tongue. I am a sorcerer capable of unimaginable devastation. I can summon minions from the deepest recesses of Hell and bend them to my will. Your insolence will be rewarded with torture!”

He was clearly taking the goth thing a little too far. I will admit, he played the part well. Would have made a great addition to any high school drama club.

“Oh, I see. So you summoned those two little demons that live with you? Well do us all a favor and send them back, would ya?”

The boy stared at me for a few seconds. I noticed him smirk and then chuckle before walking back into his house. I could tell we were getting along.

Fast forward a few months to Christmas day. I had grown used to the loud kids by then, as well as the parents who continued to spoil them and yell at the boy. It was still difficult to sleep at night with all the racket, but I had my bag of tricks to cope with it. Sometimes I upped the volume on my TV to drown out the noise, and when it got real bad, I’d call the cops. They’d come over, talk to the mom, and I’d get about an hour or so of peace. Then it would start up again.

On the morning of Christmas, however, there would be no solace for my poor ears.

As you probably know, the hot ticket item this Christmas season was the Hatchimal – a stuffed animal that hatched out of an egg. Or something like that. Well, like many kids, my neighbor’s girls wanted one badly. And I mean badly. I shit you not, the moment they opened it up, my ears rang in pain. Seriously, that’s how loud their screeches of joy were.

Much like myself, the boy next door also fell victim to the girls’ cries. He covered his ears in disgust as I watched from my window to theirs. I felt bad for the kid, especially seeing as he didn’t have the luxury of distance. Not to mention, from what I could see, it seemed all he got for Christmas was socks and thermal underwear. My sympathy only grew as the day went on.

For a good couple of hours the two demon girls ran about and screamed at the top of their lungs, every time the Hatchimal lit up or shook. In between jumping for joy and keeping their parents updated on every little detail of the hatching process, they’d complain and cry that it was taking too long. God, I couldn’t stand them.

Eventually the damned thing hatched. I cringed in horror at the girls’ annoying voices as they shrieked, and that was that. They threw the little fur ball in the pile with all of their other toys. The noises had finally ceased.

Looking through the window to make sure my nightmare had truly ended, I noticed something. The boy was no longer downstairs. I could see him through his bedroom window on the top floor. He was standing upright with his arms outstretched, back to the glass. I watched for a few moments. Kid was still as a statue. I found this bizarre, but hey, he was a bizarre kid. As the night came to an end, I pushed all thoughts of my neighbors out of my head and attempted to get some rest.

The next morning, I awoke feeling refreshed. As my eyes adjusted to the daylight, I realized something. I had slept through the night. This never happened. At the very least, I would wake up two or three times to my neighbors yelling. This was odd, but I wasn’t complaining.

While eating breakfast, I looked out my window at my neighbor’s house. I saw that both of the cars were still in the driveway. This was even stranger, as I was sure they had work. They kept reminding their kids in an effort to get them to go to sleep early Christmas night.

I had two choices. I could ignore the facts and go about my day as I normally would. Or, I could investigate and make sure everything was okay. After much deliberation, being the fucking nice guy that I am, I chose the latter option.

I trudged through snow over to my neighbor’s house and knocked on the door. I received no answer. I knocked a little bit louder and rang the doorbell a few times, but that too heeded no results. My next course of action would have to be peeping.

I walked around the corner of the house and peered into the living room window. I was greeted with a horrific sight.

The mom, the dad, and the two girls were sprawled across the floor. Their bodies were covered in bruises and cuts. Blood stained the carpet around them. To top it all of, sitting atop one of the bodies was the Hatchimal, covered in blood. Its eyes were deadlocked on my position. Officially spooked, I ran back to my house and called the police.

Within fifteen minutes, the sound of sirens filled my neighborhood. My neighbor’s home was ransacked within minutes. The bodies were bagged and tagged, and the boy was taken out in handcuffs. He’d apparently been sleeping in his room when they found him.

I was questioned as a suspect, but the overwhelming lack of evidence made it clear that I wasn’t the culprit. They thought the boy was good for it anyway. After all, he despised his family more than I did, and the numerous pentagrams and satanic scripture found in his room didn’t exactly help his case.

Despite the odds being stacked against him, the kid was set free. Apparently he “accidentally” left his phone downstairs and it somehow opened the camera app on its own and filmed the murders. After watching the footage, the police let him go. However, they refused to release the details of the murders to the public. A buddy of mine down at the station said that the FBI came down and confiscated the phone and ordered all copies of the video to be deleted.

Though the killing was officially deemed unexplainable, a lot of people in town still think the kid did it. A few of them even think I did. I didn’t commit the crime, but I’m pretty sure I know what happened.

That little fucker wasn’t bullshitting me. He really is some sort of sorcerer. He summoned one of his hell minions to possess the Hatchimal and used it to kill his family. That’s why the footage was confiscated. It depicts something paranormal; something beyond simple explanation. The pieces of the case don’t fit together on their own. It needs a pinch of the supernatural to add up.

And that’s what happened. You can believe what you want. I’m not exactly sure why the kid chose the day he did to murder his family, especially if he had those powers all along. Maybe moving to a new town and his sisters’ reactions on Christmas morning were the final cracks needed to shatter his fragile psyche. Honestly, I don’t really give a shit.

I’m just happy that I can finally get a good night’s rest.