Blank Page -- CreepyPasta Attempt #1

Ax speaks, you listen

Blank Page -- CreepyPasta Attempt #1

Postby Axikal » Wed Feb 27, 2013 7:50 am

Every story like mine begins the same: “I’m not insane.”

It’s a cliché way to start something that is so obvious in its intent to be a real recount of something scary, eerie, or otherwise disturbing. That being said, perhaps I should relate my tale while I can still think and type. It began what seems like a long time ago (though my calendar says it has been a few days; the red Xes are the only data to go by) with a .txt file.

I was sitting at my computer attempting to write a new article for my website. I had spent the last couple of days researching places and stories to give me more information, as well as back up my own thoughts and theories. I was ready to write my article when I discovered that Word would not open. Figuring the file was corrupted I attempted a re-install, but inevitably I could not get Word to run, so I fell to my old backup: Notepad.
I clicked on the icon and a new file was opened. The next few hours went by so fast that I can barely remember them—shocked I remember this much, actually. By the time I was done I was soaking in sweat and I could barely breathe. As I went to save the file and name it, a sense of dread overcame me. I am not sure what caused it, but I shrugged it off and clicked Save. Nothing.

No prompt; nothing.

I looked up at the filename and saw it read “Blank Page”. So curious, seeing as I never named the file and by default all files had to be prompted for a name the first time being written. Again I was jarred by a sense of dread and shrugged it off. I hit Save again to be sure, and put the computer into sleep mode.

Later that night I was awoken by a horrid static and glowing blue light. Somehow the computer had turned itself back on and a BSOD was in effect. Thinking the computer was just suffering from a virus, I cold booted (pressing keys didn’t reset it like usual) and ran in Safe Mode. When the desktop finally appeared my skin began to crawl. All of my icons were missing save for one: BlankPage.txt.
I re-opened the file, wondering why it was the only one. Expecting something horrible, I gripped my chair and waited while the computer’s CPU chugged trying to open what I thought was a file barely a couple of megs in size. Finally, the file opened.

Nothing. No text; nothing.

I went to the kitchen to make some coffee; maybe this would soothe my nerves, I don’t know. I just know that now I was on edge. My hard work was gone and my computer was acting crazy. I phoned up my mate Mike and explained my issue. Mike and I go way back, and he’s always been eager to help me with IT issues, but this one definitely had him thrown. He promised he’d come over sometime this week to help me, and I thanked him.

I took a final sip of my coffee and headed back to the bedroom. The blue glow was gone, replaced by a strange reddish hue. BlankPage.txt was still open, but now some text was there.

“Nothing. All from nothing.”

It made no sense to me, “Nothing”? “All from nothing”? What did this have to do with my article? I didn’t write this shit. As I stood scratching my head more text appeared on the screen, like invisible ink being revealed,

“Do you understand?”

---

Like I said before, it’s been days since this happened. Feels like years, though, especially after Mike finally came over. It’s weird because we never recovered my article on abandoned asylums and deinstitutionalization. All of my work was lost, including my recounts of a recent trip to the old Arkham-based Juniper Meadows grounds.

As I said before, Mike came over. He may not have helped me much with the computer, but we discovered that I am far less of a writer than I am at other things. He’s still sitting in his chair in the corner. Perhaps after this cup of coffee I will enlist his help again.

I rise from my seat and approach his lifeless body, a brush in hand. I walk over to my calendar and mark off yet another day and smile. In my new drawing room is a blank canvas just waiting to be filled. And I have all the red I will ever need.

For now…
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Axikal
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