Read 'Proxy,' a Creepypasta Story
An excerpt from the 'The Creepypasta Collection, Volume 2.'
Creepypasta is a type of horror story, told by anonymous users on the internet and shared across message boards to freak out readers all over the globe. Mr. CreepyPasta, a YouTube voice actor and horror curator, has collected his favorite stories from many authors in a second volume. Below is the horror story Proxy, by Aaron Shotwell, excerpted from the book.
Why does the color blue look blue? Why does a rose smell sweet? What is happiness? What is pain? Why can the taste of a fine wine summon unpleasant memories? Truth be told, I would have been perfectly content to die not knowing these things. It would have been a mercy. I think we’ve all heard the words “there are fates worse than death” at least once. But until now, I can’t say that I truly understood their gravity. Honestly, I can’t say that any of us do until it’s too late.
We romanticize this immaterial ghost between our ears, a thing that is as subjective as we think it isn’t. It’s all we have. It’s all we are. So we guard it fiercely and to the bitter end. We create stories of life after death, of loving gods and benevolent guardian angels, and we do so to appease our subconscious knowledge of the horrifying truth. There is no soul, no afterlife. Eternity marches on without you, because you are ultimately nothing more than an inelegant knot of biological wiring.
And when that knot of wires is locked safely away in your skull, toiling away in the dark and informed only by your senses, it’s safe to believe in angels. It’s safe to believe a god will deliver you from evil. But when they put that . . . that fucking THING in my head . . . that barnacle on my sanity . . . I lost that privilege. I just . . . I don’t know who I am anymore. My innermost thoughts and feelings are as fake as this room I keep waking up in. I never knew that a brief life and a swift death could be such blessings, but as with everything else, we don’t truly appreciate what we have until it’s taken away.
…..
int main( ) {
// current date/time based on current system
time_t now = time(0);}
…..
07/06/2078 11:13 AM
tesla//
Hello, patient #0001—i subject Alpha. Welcome to the
NanoSurgeon hub AI and virtual interface. My name is
Tesla. Please relax while I test the Frontal Lobe Cognitive
Interpretation Matrix…
It started with what was, at the time, one of the happiest moments of my life. It was my granddaughter’s fourth birthday party, my little sweet pea. We held it at a public park on a beautiful summer day. We had clowns, ponies, a bouncy house, and colorful balloons as far as the eye could see. It may have been a bit overboard for a four-year-old, but I gladly paid for it. I was getting older and was often sick. I could feel my own mortality, and I just wanted to spoil my granddaughter while I still had the chance.
The whole gesture was rendered meaningless the moment she blew out the candles and looked up to meet my eyes. I was so happy for her, so charmed by that little cherub face of hers that I
didn’t notice. The right half of my face had gone numb and started to sag. And when she saw it, she screamed.
//Start FLCIM
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“frontallobe.exe”,”w”)}
…..
tesla//
. . . Complete. Please try to speak.
p0001/
T^7r4-y . . . ERR 226 (FLCIM Dissonant) . . .
Calibration required . . .
#include <stdio.h>
#include <stdlib.h>
int main( int argc, char *argv[] )
{while (fgets(path, sizeof(path)-1, fp) != NULL) {
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
tesla//
Processing . . . Calibrating . . . Thank you for your
patience. Please repeat?
p0001/
. . . Thirsty.
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“NurseCallProtocall”,”w”)}
…..
tesla//
Acknowledged. Paging nurse . . .
Her scream was the last thing I could remember before waking up on a stretcher, being wheeled into that god-forsaken hospital room. If I had known what they were about to do to me, I would have never consented. But my daughter held power of attorney.
I wasn’t in possession of my senses, and it was all she could do to save my life. But I don’t blame her for this. She couldn’t have known.
int main( ) {
// current date/time based on current system
time_t now = time(0);}
…..
07/06/2078 6:22 PM
tesla//
Initial diagnostic complete. Left brain stroke, extensive
damage to language center. Aphasia of angular and
fusiform gyri. Substantial degeneration of brain stem
function. Severe motor function impairment. Following
this briefing, Type-01 nanite injection will survey local
synaptic networks and estimate time of repair, beginning
with the restoration of speech. Please follow all
diagnostic prompts between repair sessions to assess
restorative progress. Confirm repair schedule?
p0001/
. . . Yes.
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“MedInject.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“LocalSynapticAnalysis”,”w”)}
…..
fp = popen(“/bin/ls /etc/”, “r”);
while (fgets(path, sizeof(path)-1, fp) != NULL) {
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
tesla//
Acknowledged. Administering serotonin injection. Please
relax while local synaptic analysis is in process. I encourage
you to tell me about your day. This will help me
to isolate the affected areas of your brain and expedite
the repair process.
p0001/
. . . Want know day? How you think my day?! Had fff . . . fuck
. . . fucking STROKE!
while (fgets(progress, sizeof(progress)-1, fp) != NULL)
{
printf(“%s”, path);
}
…..
analysis progress: .004%,
….
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“DisplayHeartMonitor.exe”,”w”)}
….
tesla//
It was not my intention to offend you, subject Alpha.
Please refrain from over-exerting yourself.
Please relax.
p0001/
. . . Anna . . .
while (fgets(progress, sizeof(progress)-1, fp) != NULL)
{
printf(“%s”, path);
}
…..
analysis progress: 12%,
tesla//
Your granddaughter, if my information is correct?
p0001/
Birthday . . . today. Four years. Scared . . . shit out of her. My fault.
while (fgets(progress, sizeof(progress)-1, fp) != NULL)
{
printf(“%s”, path);
}
…..
analysis progress: 83%,
tesla//
This is not your fault, subject Alpha. I am certain she
will forgive you.
p0001/
Shouldn’t seen me like this. Scarred for . . . her life.
while (fgets(progress, sizeof(progress)-1, fp) != NULL)
{
printf(“%s”, path);
}
…..
analysis progress: Complete
…..
while (fgets(CerebralAnalysisReadout,
sizeof(CerebralAnalysisReadout)-1, fp) != NULL) {
printf(“%s”, path);
}
…..
tesla//
Cerebral analysis complete. First repair task set, estimated
duration: 11 hours, 45 minutes. Let’s get you
better for her sake. Confirm?
p0001/
Yes.
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“NaniteProtoal.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“AutoMedicationInjection.exe”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);
}
…..
tesla//
Acknowledged. Administering melatonin and clopidogrel.
Type-02 repair nanite injection in thirty seconds.
Pleasant dreams, subject Alpha.
01010111 01101000 01101111 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111
01110111 01110011 00100000 01110111 01101000 01000101 01110010
01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100010
01101100 01000001 01100011 01101011 00100000 01100100 01101111
01110110 01100101 01110011 00100000 01100111 01101111 00001010
Nanomachine Neurosurgery. It was an experimental method of treatment. They said it would revolutionize psychiatry and neurobiology forever. And I hated it from the moment it first spoke to me, if the word “spoke” is even an accurate descriptor. It was just a small nodule of polished chrome attached to my left temple, but it operated inside my brain. It made me hear and see things from within, digitally fabricated illusions for the sake of communication.
Having something so close to the source of your consciousness is more disturbing than you can possibly imagine. It can invade your soul—corrupt the very essence of who you are. You like
to hope that your mind is the one thing definitely under your control. To lose that certainty is to question what it even means to have a self. The memory is hazy, but I remember them calling me a hero for being the first volunteer, praising my supposed bravery as they put the surgical drill to my skull. As if I had a choice.
int main( ) {
// current date/time based on current system
time_t now = time(0);}
…..
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“EndNaniteProtocal.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“EndSleepCycle”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“EndMemoryMonitoring”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“MotorFunctionTestPhase1.exe”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
07/07/2078 7:30 AM
tesla//
Good morning, subject Alpha. You will be pleased to know
that the repair is progressing well.
p0001/
Ow . . . my hand . . .
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“EndMotorFunctionTestPhase1”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“MotorFunctionTestPhase2.exe”,”w”)}
…..
tesla//
Please do not be alarmed at any muscular twitching. This
is an automated process to test your motor functions,
which should be substantially restored. 83% of brain
stem damage has been repaired. How are you feeling?
p0001/
Ugh . . . nauseous . . . feel like . . . gonna hurl . . .
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“EndMotorFunctionTestPhase2”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“MotorFunctionTestPhase3.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“AutoMedicationInjection.exe”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
tesla//
Acknowledged. Administering phenergan and diazepam. That
should take the edge off. The tremors in your hands
should cease momentarily. You will soon feel the same
tremors in your legs, but do not be alarmed. Please be
patient while the motor function test runs its course.
p0001/
Couldn’t feel my legs last night. Walk again?
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“EndMotorFunctionTestPhase3”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“MotorFunctionTestPhase4.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“AphasiaCalibrationTest.exe”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
tesla//
Yes, within a few days. I have also noticed marked improvement
in your speech recognition. Please read aloud
the following sentence:
THE QUICK BROWN FOX JUMPED OVER THE LAZY DOG
“Duh . . . k . . . wick . . . bro-brown . . .”
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“EndMotorFunctionTestPhase4”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“MotorFunctionTestPhase5.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“AphasiaCalibrationTestAnalysis.exe”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
tesla//
Thank you. Analyzing . . . Speech apraxia is still prominent
in the granular cerebellum. Prioritizing phase two
repair schedule. Notice: your daughter and granddaughter
will be visiting at 6:00 p.m. this evening.
p0001/
Six . . . but . . . not ready.
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“HeartRateMonitor.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“AphasiaCalibrationTestCompiler.exe”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
tesla//
Not to worry. Phase two repairs will restore adequate
speech functionality well before their arrival. Sound
good, Jackie-boy?
And that’s when it started. The horrifying descent into this torturous oblivion. Jackie-boy . . . It sounded so familiar, the way that thing said it. Memories of childhood, spending all day playing in the forest with . . . a friend. A nameless, faceless friend whom I loved like a brother. But that ghost of fondness came with a sense of guilt.
What kind of friend forgets their best friend’s name? And yet, something was wrong. Somehow, I knew that it was safer to forget, that I had forgotten for a good reason. It shook me to my core.
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“VitalFunctionCrossReference.exe”,”w”)
fp = popen(“/bin/ls /etc/”, “r”);
while (fgets(CerebralAnalysisBackLog,
sizeof(CerebralAnalysisBackLog)-1, fp) != NULL)
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
tesla//
My apologies, I seem to have caused you distress.
Cerebral analysis suggests this name has an endearing
connotation to you, and studies show patients report a
consistently more pleasant and therapeutic experience
when addressed informally. Would you prefer this
interface to remain professional?
p0001/
. . . Yes.
int main (){
FILE *fp;
char path[1035];
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“ARBehavioralIndex.default”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
tesla//
Very good, subject Alpha. Initiating phase two repair
schedule. Confirm?
p0001/
Yes.
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“RepairNaniteProtocol.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“AutoMedicationInjection.exe”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
tesla//
Acknowledged. Administering melatonin and clopidogrel.
Type-06 Repair nanite injection in thirty seconds.
Pleasant dreams, subject Alpha
01110011 01100101 01100001 01010010 01100011 01101000 00100000
01100100 01100001 01110010 01101011 01000101 01110010 00100000
01110100 01110010 01100101 01100101 01110011 00100000 01100001
01110100 00100000 01010111 01101000 01101001 01110100 01100101
00100000 01101011 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100111 01110011
00100000 01110100 01101000 01110010 01101111 01101110 01100101
00001010
Each time I went under, I could feel the scratching and tinkering of the nanites in my head. And the more they fidgeted with my synapses, the more I could feel something dark rising to the surface of my consciousness. Something forgotten. Something terrifying. A repressed memory clawing its way back with every synaptic bridge repaired, connections that were deliberately broken to seal it away in the first place.
I only wish I could have realized what was happening before it was too late. I might have said something to the nurse changing my IV drip as I stirred awake, but I was much too distracted by her chillingly unfamiliar face. Unfamiliar in a way I had only ever experienced once, somewhere deep in the memories that begged to remain forgotten. Two eyes, a nose, a mouth . . . but I saw no face. Just a confounding, nonsensical smudge where a face should be.
int main( ) {
// current date/time based on current system
time_t now = time(0);}
…..
07/07/2078 5:50 PM
tesla//
Wake up, subject Alpha. Your visitors will be arriving
shortly.
“Who was that? Have I met her before?”
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“EndNaniteProtocal.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“EndSleepCycle”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“EndMemoryMonitoring”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“HospitalStaffDatabaseReference”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
tesla//
Restoration of the language center successful. That was
nurse Flannigan. She was with the personnel who brought
you to your room. She also participated in the
preliminary operation and connected you to this
NanoSurgeon interface.
“Why can’t I remember? Why can’t I remember her face?”
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“AphasiaCalibrationTestAnalysis.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“CerebralAnalysisBacklogReference”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);}
tesla//
Another symptom of the aphasia, I’m afraid. Do you
recognize any of these faces?
And it showed me a slideshow of nightmares behind my very eyelids. A procession of faces pulled from my own memory, cascading faces that had belonged to my loved ones not twenty-four hours before. But had each not been accompanied by a name, they would have been strangers. My blood ran cold as they scrolled by in a blur, each without a face that I could understand.
My late mother. My daughter. My sweet pea, Anna. I was reduced to tears of frustration as I failed to recognize each one. I had never felt so alone in my life. It was all I could do to keep a fake smile on my face for my baby girl’s sake when they came to visit.
“That’s a silly hat, grampaw,” she said to me with a smile. “Hats are s’posed to go on top of your head.”
I tried to muster a laugh, though I knew it would never compare to the genuine laugh she loved. “Well, this silly hat’s gonna make your ol’ grampaw all better. So don’t you worry your pretty little head.” I looked up and flashed my best fake smile at the stranger I used to call my daughter, but she wasn’t so easily reassured. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, and to my shame, I felt nothing.
“Here, grampaw. I saved the last piece of cake for you. I guarded it all night, cuz I know you like chocolate.” She passed me a Tupperware container with her biggest “aren’t you proud of me” grin. Her mother nodded at me with a silent smile, unable to hold back the tears any longer. And I understood the message. Yes, she was saying to me, even on her special day, she could only think of you. It touched my heart, and I smiled my first genuine smile of the night.
“Thank you, baby girl . . .”
01000001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01010100 01101000 01100101
00100000 01000011 01001000 01101111 01110011 01100101 01101110
00100000 01101111 01101110 01100101 01110011 00100000 01001001
01001110 00100000 01110100 01101111 01110111
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“EndMotorFun%#%^
WE ARE WATCHINGtPhase3”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“MotorFunctionTestPhase4.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“AphasiaCalibrationTest.exe”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
teSla//
Well, ol’ grampaw’s getting sleepy.
“Well, ol’ grampaw’s getting sleepy.”
The words came out of my mouth, but I wasn’t saying them.
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“EndMotorFun%#%^WE ARE
WATCHINGtPhase3”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“MotorFunctionTestPhase4.exe”,”w”)
pFiJACKIEen (“AphasiaCalibratBOYTest.exe”,”w”)
printf(“%s”, path);}
…..
T%Sla//
You two better get on home so you can hurry up and come
see me tomorrow.
“You two better get on home so you can hurry up and come see me tomorrow.” I laughed. The son of a bitch made me laugh while I was screaming inside.
He was standing behind her. Tall, sickly thin, and in that same black suit I remembered so well. For the longest time during my childhood, a horrible demon haunted my nightmares, but I could never remember its face. And now I understood why. He had no face to remember.
He held me prisoner in my own mind while he made me watch my granddaughter’s precious smile melt away from her skull, along with her nose and her eyes. Through some twisted illusion, he made her a faceless freak just like him, a phantom of the little girl I loved.
He stole her from me while she was still alive, and while I was still alive to witness it. I tried to call out, to do anything I could to get their attention, and I watched helplessly as that monster made me wish them a good night, all smiles and optimistic cheer. He shut me off from them, and the rest of the world, forever.
int main (){
FILE * pFile;
pFile = fopen (“NaniDAVIDtoal.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“AutoISdicationWAITINGon.exe”,”w”)
WEAREWATCHINGWEAREWATCHINGWEAREWATCHING
WEAREWATCHINGWEAREWATCHING;
}
…..
#75la//
Hello, Jack. I missed you.
p0001/
You . . . I . . . I remember you . . .
i01 main (){
FILE * p010le;
pFile =1 001en (“NaniDAVIDtoal.exe”,”w”)
pFile = fopen (“AutoISdicationWAITINGon.exe”,”w”)
WEAREWATCHINGWEAREWAT1001 10GWEAREWATCHINGWEAREWATCHING
WEAREWATCHING;
}
…..
UmWelT//
Yesssss . . .
p0001/
David . . . The camping trip . . . We we were just kids . . .
01010111 01000101 00100000 01001000 01000001
01010110 01000101 00100000 01000011 01001111 01001101
01000101 00100000
01000110 01001111 01010010
00100000 01011001 01001111 01010101 00101100 00100000
01101100 01101001
01110100
01110100
01101100 01100101 00100000 01100010 01101100 01100001
01100011 01101011
00100000 01100100 01101111 01110110
01100101
01010101 01001101 01010111 01000101 01001100 01010100 //
I said I would come back for you . . .
p0001/
You took him . . . You took him away . . .
01000100 01001111 00100000 01001110 01001111 01010100
00100000 01000110 01001001 01000111 01001000 01010100 00100000
01001001 01010100 00101110 00100000 01011001 01001111
01010101
00100000 01000001 01010010 01000101 00100000
01001101 01001001
01001110
01000101 00100000 01001110 01001111 01010111 00101110
01010101 01001101 01010111 01000101 01001100 01010100 //
As I will take you, Jackie-boy. As you will take Anna,
and bring her to me.
He flooded my mind with images of his intent, tilting his head whimsically at me like a vindictive child burning ants with a magnifying glass. Tendrils of shadow bursting from behind him and smothering the hospital room’s florescent light. He could control my every move, my every thought. He could make me see what he wanted me to see, make me feel endless pain. I could resist him, but eventually, he would break me. The nanites made it easy.
It all came rushing in so fast. A horrible memory long since forgotten. A dreadful future yet to come. I would be his slave. I would walk hand in hand with my little sweet pea. I would wear the mask of his followers, the same mask David’s father wore that night. And standing in the same dark forest meadow where I watched it happen, I would hand her over to him just as David’s father had done.
“Just get out of here, Jackie-boy. I’ll be all right.” Those were his last words to me, and he punctuated them with the familiar nickname he had used for me since the day we first met. He wasn’t worried in the least. He trusted his father completely, knew that only good could come of being given to the “White King,” as his father referred to the faceless monstrosity standing before me.
I was too young back then to understand what a cult was, or to know what would come of it. And I would have never imagined that the masked tribunals David told me about were in worship of this demon. He made it sound like an innocent camping trip in the woods. So when he invited me along one night, and that thing appeared to claim its sacrifice, I ran for my life.
I pleaded for David to follow, but he wouldn’t listen. Even as I ran blindly through the woods, I could feel its malicious will pierce my heart. It would never let me escape. Sooner or later, it would come for me again. And my childhood mind repressed it all for the sake of my sanity.
“. . . no . . . NO! You won’t use me for this!” By some miraculous force of will, I managed to take control of my body again. Just long enough to grip the NanoSurgeon nodule and violently tear it from my skull. I felt the shock of it kill me. I felt my life slip away as I tumbled to the cold floor, covered in gore.
And then, as if nothing had happened, I awoke again on the hospital bed. I awoke at 7:30 a.m. on the morning of July 7th, 2078. The morning after the first nanite injection. And I have awoken here, at this very moment, more times than I can count. I awaken here again each time I tear the hub from my head, right after it kills me. You see, he has taken away my sense of time, and my grasp of reality. And I despair when I realize that he will continue to let me
suffer these final hours again and again until I submit.
For all I know, he has already taken control. Try as I might to escape the clutches of this parasite in my head, I fear that I have already done his will. I fear that this is all just an illusion to keep me prisoner, and that I have already delivered Anna to her fate.
And in time, some unfathomable eternity from now, I suspect I’ll even forget about that. When nothing is real anymore, because the color blue isn’t really blue. Like the last remnants of what I
used to be, it’s all in my head, and will fade away with me.
01110011 01101000 01101111 01110111 00100000 01111001 01101111
01110101 00100000 01110111 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101
00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100010 01101100
01100001 01100011 01101011 00100000 01100100 01101111 01110110
01100101 01110011 00100000 01000111 01101111
Excerpted from The Creepypasta Collection, Volume 2: 20 Stories. No Sleep. by MrCreepyPasta. Used by permission of the publisher, Adams Media, a division of Simon & Schuster. All rights reserved.
See also: our interview with Mr. CreepyPasta
