13 Aug Never Look Out a Window at Night

Posted at 11:00h in Beings and Entities, Monsters, Creatures, and Cryptids, Strange and Unexplained by CreepypastaStories.com 2 Comments

📅 Published on August 13, 2020

“Never Look Out a Window at Night”

Written by Chris Fox
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME — 4 minutes

Rating: 9.47/10. From 15 votes.

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I was always told not to look out a window at night, because you might not like what’s looking back at you. They call this an “old wives’ tale” or something like that, but for me, it was just a bunch of silly crap, so I made a point to do the exact opposite.

Like most people my age, I guess I felt like I was spitting in the face of some outdated, half-assed logic, that some old person had come up with.

I mean who the hell goes around looking into peoples’ widows, am I right, and since I didn’t believe in ghosts, monsters, demons, or whatever, I didn’t give that notion a thought either.

I know, some of you will say there are creepy people that have been known to do this, but I’ve always lived in a very nice neighborhood, so the likely hood of this happening was pretty slim, or so I thought.

One night, I got out of bed to make a late-night deposit in the porcelain bank. I finished my business and washed up, then decided I was kind of parched, so I went to the kitchen for a drink.

I grabbed a glass, opened the fridge, and filled it with tasty, cucumber-lime water I keep in there, because who wants to drink boring tap water.

I finished drinking, and as I was about to leave the kitchen, I glanced at the window. “Might as well take a peek,” I said to myself as I walked over to it.

I looked out, and as usual, nothing there. I turned to walk back to my bedroom when I decided to take one more look.

The most horrible face I’d ever seen stared back at me.

The face, which was pale white, smiled at me, but not with a regular smile. Its smile was inhumanly wide and filled with sharp teeth.

I screamed, ran back to my room, jumped in bed, and covered my head with the blankets.

“What the hell was that?” I whispered to myself. I tried to put it out of my mind and go back to sleep, but it took a while.

The next morning, my parents asked me why I had screamed the previous night. I gave them a lame excuse about seeing my reflection in the window and that it had scared me. They seemed content with my explanation, so there was no further discussion. Besides, I was convinced that I had imagined the whole thing in the first place. It had been the middle of the night, I was extremely tired, and my eyes were probably playing tricks on me.

That night I found myself up late working on coursework for one of my college classes. It had been hours since dinner and I was starting to feel a little hungry. I knew there were a container of hummus and some artisan crackers with my name on them in the kitchen, so off I went.

With my snack in hand, I started back to my room. As I passed the window, I stopped and glanced at it.

I really didn’t want to look out it, but I refused to bow to superstition. It was 2020 and I was a college student for crying out loud. My brain just wasn’t built like that.

I walked over to the window and looked out. Nothing. “See there,” I told myself smugly, “superstition is wrong again.”

I walked a few steps down the hall, then turned around and went back to the window and looked back out it.

The face was there, smiling its evil smile. I dropped the hummus and crackers as I backed away from the window. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t make a sound.

The thing on the other side of the window raised a pale hand and wagged a long finger at me like a mother chastising her child.

I fled to my room, and as I entered, I saw the blinds on my two windows were open. The thing’s face stared at me from both of them, and I ran back into the hall.

I went into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me. I slumped down on the toilet with my head in my hands and begged for the thing to please go away.

I heard a tap above me, and when I looked up at the small bathroom window, the face was there too. It still smiled while it shook its head.

It wasn’t going to stop apparently.

Hopelessly, I stood up, stepped into the shower, and pulled the curtain closed. I stayed there for the remainder of the night, but I didn’t sleep.

The next morning, my parents found me in the bathroom. I tried hysterically to tell them what had happened, but they only looked at me like I was crazy, and after I tried to cover all of the windows in the house, they brought me to the hospital.

I’ve been hospitalized for a month now, and it’s really not that bad. The doctors made sure I got a room without any windows, which has really helped my mental state, and things have been going so well, that a few days ago I got my cellphone back.

With all this time on my hands, I’ve been thinking about the circumstances that led me to this point, and I’ve decided that maybe I was wrong about old wives’ tales and superstitions. In fact, I urge anyone reading this not to blow off the old ways. They exist for a reason.

That being said, there’s another saying I’ve heard that I can’t help but be concerned about, especially considering I have a mirror in my room.

It’s the one about the eyes being the windows to the soul.