Never Look Out a Window at Night

📅 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

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

ESTIMATED READING TIME — 4 minutes

Rating: 9.71/10. From 14 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Like most people my age, I guess I felt like I was spitting in the face of some outdated, half-assed logic, that some old person had come up with.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.

Rating: 9.71/10. From 14 votes.
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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


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

🔔 More stories from author: Chris Fox


Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

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zenna mills
zenna mills
2 years ago

these are great!

Pedro Bolas
Pedro Bolas
6 minutes ago

What kind of college student acts like this? What a pussy

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