I'm at Your Bedroom Window-A creepypasta

The story is narrated by a woman who tells the story of her nightmarish experience at the Economy Hotel, in room 103. Every night, there would be a voice outside her window, telling her that it sees inside the room and wants her to come "Take a look". (THE ORIGINAL STORY WAS WROTE BY MAYA ELLART).


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2. Part 2

 

The flight to my aunt’s house was short and uneventful. I spent the flight running over what had happened over and over in my mind. Could it have been a prank? Who could have done that?

It didn’t matter. It was over. I was out of that insane place, on my way to family and friends. I tried to put the whole thing behind me, and just enjoy the ride.

I’ve always loved flying. Watching the world fall away behind me is one of the most incredible feelings- the patterns beneath you, the rivers, and ponds, and winding roads, spotted here and there with cottony clouds, shadowing the land. This time, however, I just couldn’t enjoy the scenery. I was too on edge from the previous night’s events.

The plane finally landed, and I just about ran to meet my aunt and cousins. Finally, I could start my vacation and get back to a normal state of mind. I hugged my aunt and my little cousins so tight, just to be sure they were real. We all laughed, and packed up the car with my luggage to head home. I didn’t tell them about the motel.

That night, my aunt made my favorite- pan-seared salmon, dripping with lemon and butter. Since she lives so close to the beach, it was fresh from that day’s catch. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything so sweet and fresh. Sitting here, with my family, I could almost laugh off the event’s of the night before. Almost.

Silence descended upon the house as night fell upon us, bringing with it a thick fog. The little cousins toddled off to bed, yawning and rubbing their eyes. My aunt and I sat quietly in the living room, her reading, me silently recalling the night before over and over. Finally, exhausted, I got up and announced that I was heading to bed early. A bit surprised, my aunt wished me good night, and I headed to my room to collapse.

Once alone, however, I felt unease creep in around me. The only lamp in the room was the bright overhead- too bright to sleep with. And with the fog as thick as it was, no light came in from outside. As if that weren’t unsettling enough, at the foot of my bed was a large window, and there was no curtain, only a venetian blind. I shivered and turned on my side so I couldn’t see the window. Slowly I fell into a fitful sleep.

I woke up sometime around 3 am to an odd squeaking noise, like nails running across glass or tile. Confused, I sat up and looked around. Blinking, my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. Still, I could see nothing that could be making a noise. In fact, in seemed to be coming from somewhere outside. My heart rate quickened as I stood up and approached my bedroom window with apprehension. With shaking fingers I reached for the pull to open the blinds.

I yanked down with one swift tug and the blinds flew open. Nothing. I let out the breath I had been holding in in a rush. I had only imagined it.

Or had I? As I glanced down, I noticed the long, slightly smudged mark near the bottom of the window, as though some grubby hand or paw had run along the glass, looking for a way in. I dropped the blinds, dashed back to bed, and pulled the covers over my head, desperate for some sleep. It seemed impossible that I’d ever get back to sleep after that, but eventually I drifted off, dreaming of strange noises and small, scuttling creatures hiding just at the edge of my vision.

I woke up in the late morning, head wreathed in fog from a restless night. My phone was buzzing next to me. Squinting, I glanced at it to see that I had 5 unread messages, all from my aunt. I shook my head, not wanting to bother with it at the moment, and fell back against the lumpy pillow.

Something was wrong.

My eyes flew open and I sat up. No. Even without glasses or contacts, I could tell I wasn’t in my room at my aunt’s house. But no, I couldn’t be- I wasn’t- no!

I was. I was back in the motel room from the night before. I tried to scream, but only a choked cry escaped my lips. I looked back at my phone- every message from my aunt was a variation on “Where are you?!” Still in my pajamas, I ran to the door, threw it open and dashed to the office. In a panic, I ran in and immediately started begging the manager for help. He looked up, startled- not at me, but at the door I had just come in through.

“That door again? I thought I fixed that damn thing...” Without a single glance at me he walked over and shoved the door closed, giving it an extra push with his shoulder. He hadn’t even seen me.

Later, I returned to room 103, numb and confused. As I sat on the bed, I heard the voice one last time: “You’re mine now,” it taunted. I didn’t care. I couldn’t even muster up emotion anymore.

I’ve lost count of the days I’ve spent here by now. I don’t think I’m dead, just not quite synced up with the rest of the world. These days, I’m the one leaving the notes, warning travelers not to look out the window. Most of them laugh when they see my scribblings, but I don’t worry too much. It’s the people that dwell too long on my message that worry me. They’re the ones that listen too closely to the voice in the window. They’re the ones that might end up like me someday.

There’s a young couple staying here right now. I’m sitting outside now, waiting for them to quiet down and go to sleep. I’m trying not to think of how life was before I ended up here. I mean, I’ve tried leaving, but I can’t get past the parking lot entrance. The only knowledge I get from the outside world now is from my phone and the occasional news program I watch during what passes for a “continental breakfast” at this motel.

I think the two inside have fallen asleep. Well, he has at least. I’m not worried about him. His girlfriend- or fiancé, or whatever- I’m concerned for her. She’s still up, eyes darting around. I know she saw my note, and she’s definitely upset. She’s a perfect target.

Excuse me now, I’m going to go huddle in the closet, with my hands over my ears.

The voice is going to start soon.

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