Creepypastas

The Masked Man

Tuesday, October 25

I don't really know my neighbor, much less where he gets all of his decorations. I noticed a new ornament of sorts in front of his door today. It was a ceramic bowl full of guts, comically placed where he would place a bowl of candy were he too lazy to answer the door for trick-or-treaters. Behind it was a large white piece of paper bound to the wall of his house. On it was written in nearly illegible chicken scratch: "TAKE ONE". The whole sign had bloody fingerprints smeared all over it. More convincing yet was the bloody tape. And the bloody wall. Nearly the entire wall was smeared in brownish-red. Spooky. The streams of blood that ran from the handprints were, strangely enough, dry. I didn't know they made novelty blood that could dry like that.

I've only ever spoken to this guy once, and it was around the time that I moved. He seemed rather distraught. As I approached him, I asked if everything was alright. He said that he was late for work, which was odd, because it was around 8:30 at night. I asked him where he worked, and he revealed to me that he was a biologist and worked at the military base, with no other details. It was strange. Every time I saw him after that encounter, his pants had traveled up his ankles another centimeter. Midlife growth-spurt, I guess. He was henceforth stumbling around awkwardly and tripping over himself. My other neighbors and I mocked him from time to time. I remember one specific instance when he was watering his shrubbery, and one of his knees gave out. Backwards. Kind of like a large bird's leg. A pelican, or perhaps a heron. It looked excruciating to me, but he just walked it off. I've only ever seen him outside again once after this display, but it was months ago.

And last month, as I walked to the mailbox late one afternoon, I heard his kids crying frantically. Screaming, almost. It continued into the evening. The noise stopped eventually, though. I was having trouble sleeping through that horrifying racket. I sincerely hope he had his parenting privileges revoked; however, I've never even seen his kids. Let's hope he's only an uncle.

Wednesday, October 26

Ever since James arrived earlier this week, he has simply abhorred the idea of removing his costume. Little Buzz has been running rampant throughout the house quoting Toy Story. He hasn't disrobed once since he put it on, save for when I demanded he allow me to wash it because he was quite literally rolling around outside in the dirt.

I haven't seen any more of this weirdo in the mask lately. Probably some mischievous kid from the neighborhood behind mine. It's a cul-de-sac too, just a bigger one. There is a dirt road that accompanies an irrigation canal separating the two neighborhoods. My house is the farthest house from the main road, and the canal runs parallel to my fence. I don't know of any bridge he could have used to come across, but I never look back there, and I don't particularly care to.

Neighbor-man bought a new ornament. 200 feet of lights to accompany the 200 feet of intestines he had previously thrown all over the tree in his front yard. The lights coexist uniquely with the prior décor, though; all I could smell when I went outside was the burning odor of the sizzling ensemble of mix-matched decorations hanging from the tree. The moisture of those oddly-genuine-looking innards had adhered to his archaic festive bulbs, producing a deep red glow. Intentional or not, the smell was almost enough to coerce a complaint out of me. Almost.

Come to think of it, the smell wasn't so bad. Almost like a barbecue.

Friday, October 28

I'm going insane. No simple words can properly describe what I believe I have witnessed. As the sun was setting this evening I got another glimpse of this "masked" man. What I saw now was not at all what I would describe as a "mask". I was sitting in my living room reading. The bay window in my living room overlooks the entire street, and I had my blinds open. I had startled and looked up and out the window toward the nearly-dissipated sun because I had heard what sounded like an asthmatic man gasping for air through a megaphone over top of a vocal, frightened cat. I stood up from my couch and walked briskly toward the window. I cupped my hands above my eyes to deter the sunlight, and pressed my face against the window. And I saw it. It was pursuing a small cat. It ran like an Ostrich. Where it was not bald and discolored, it was spotted with long patches of spindly hairs and networks of pulsating blue veins. Thinning, isolated strands of gray hair flat against its flaky, decomposing head. Its flapping, low-hung chin keeping rhythm with its bounding stride as the sprinting thing began to overtake a creature built for agility. Ultra-thin, ultra-broad shoulders dutifully bounding up and down in harmony with its tree branch-like arms, easily giving it at least a five foot reach. Mammoth hands, chopstick fingers, and those repulsive, chameleon eyes. Buckets of drool spilt impatiently from behind its hellish teeth. Emaciated, stilt-like legs completed the horrific image. Altogether, I observed an eight-and-a-half foot freak show with greasy hair practically leaping from yard to yard chasing this poor kitten for a reason ostensibly beyond simple sustenance.