02 May Obscurity Man
“Obscurity Man”
Written by Braedon Balko Edited by Craig Groshek Thumbnail Art by Dela Longfish Narrated by N/ACopyright 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 — 11 minutes
I found out about him through a friend. I guess that’s how most people find out about him. I guess it’s sort of awful, if you think about it. It would make more sense if your worst enemy told you about him.
His name is Robbie. We’d been friends since high school. We bonded over Tarantino movies, video games, and comic books. I guess he was my best friend.
He told me on the bench in the park, while we were chomping down on some street meat. He didn’t know the consequences that telling another would have, or he would never have told me – never have told anyone. Halfway through his sausage, he turns to me and brings it up out of the blue.
“My friend told me the weirdest fucking thing,” he says in between mouthfuls. “I thought it was stupid when I heard it, but it’s been, like, stuck in my head ever since.”
I stare at him quizzically as I take a sip of my iced tea.
“Listen to this,” he says, finishing up his meal.
And then he told me the story that his friend told him (who was told by a friend, who was told by a friend). It went something like this:
He is called Obscurity Man, but he’s hardly a man. Although he really is quite obscure, in all senses of the word.
He draws his power from his obscurity. The fewer that know about him, the stronger he becomes. He would be strongest if only a single person knew about him, but he is far too cautious for that. If that person died, he’d simply cease to exist entirely. So, at all times, he keeps three people in the know.
Those in the know usually don’t last long. Most of the time, somebody can’t help but tell somebody else about him. That makes four. He doesn’t like four. The one who’s been in the know the longest needs to be culled from the herd of those who know. He is fast. There are only four for a few hours before there are three once again.
He knows who is in the know almost from the moment they hear his name. He sees into their thoughts, pushing his at the forefront so he can never be forgotten…
My fried finishes telling me and looks at me. I’m baffled by what has just come out of his mouth. It isn’t like him to say something so weird.
“Pretty fucked up shit, yeah?” he says, laughing.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said, “Who told you this?”
“This guy I met on League of Legends,” he replied, “Username was HeyJude5565, real name was Jude something-or-other. Not a bad player, we dual queue a lot. He played with Cherry before he played with me. Lives in the UK somewhere. Cool guy. Not very social though, he won’t play with anybody except Cherry and I.”
Cherry was another one of our friends from high school. She was one of the few girls in the school who played video games, so naturally, we got along pretty well. There was a while when Robbie had a thing for her (hey, maybe I did too), but I suppose that the phase passed for both of us. That’s hardly relevant though.
After that, we changed the subject. And everything was normal for a couple of days, except for the fact that every once in a while I’d think back to that ridiculous story that Robbie told me. And although it seemed stupid at first, there was something strangely alluring at it… something that caused me to keep replaying the story over and over in my head.
A few days passed. The only conversation worth noting here was one I had with Robbie on Skype one night while we were playing Minecraft. While we were industriously building on our creative server, he mentioned that Jude hadn’t been online in a couple of days. He also notes that during a conversation with Cherry, she tried to tell him the Obscurity Man story. He told her that he’d heard it already from Jude. She expressed her surprise that she would tell him (apparently Jude is a really shy guy), and says that she had known about it for months. And that was all.
Two days ago, I was sitting in my Canadian History Lecture next to this girl that I really like. I’d rather not divulge her name, because it isn’t too late yet, like for the rest of them. Let’s just call her Sarah.
I met Sarah in History on the first day. She has a bubbly sort of personality, and she’s an optimist, through and through. She’s the kind of girl who is always smiling, constantly kind, and very pretty. She sat next to me on the first day, with a shy smile, asking if I minded her sitting next to me. I told her that I didn’t mind at all. So she sat down, and we introduced ourselves. By the end of that class, I already knew that I’d like to be more than friends with her.
Things were moving at an average pace. I hadn’t asked her out yet, but we texted on a daily basis and we usually ate lunch together. We had broken the touch barrier, as we tended to lean against one another while taking notes during lectures. Whenever her bare arm touched mine it sent delightful shivers down my spine.
Anyways, so a few minutes before class starts, we’re chatting about random topics. There is a noticeable lull in the conversation. I tell her about the first thing that pops into my head. Yes, you guessed it. The Obscurity Man.
After I tell her, she gives me a funny look.
“That was weird,” she says. “Sort of creepy, I guess.”
And that was when our professor came out and started lecturing about William Lyon Mackenzie’s failed revolution.
And everything was normal until yesterday morning. That was when I got a call from a panicky, incoherent, weeping Robbie. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, so I was obviously deeply concerned. I rode my bike to his house and knocked on the door.
He answered, puffy-eyed, blubbering, and motioned for me to come in. He finally got himself together, and in a tired voice told me what happened, pausing liberally throughout.
Apparently, Cherry’s mom had called him pretty early in the morning. She told him, while sobbing, that the night before, Cherry had killed herself. She had slit both of her wrists after gulping an entire bottle of Tylenol. They found her in blood-soaked clothes with her head resting in a puddle of vomit.
This came as a shock to everybody. Cherry was generally a happy girl, very satisfied with life, never displaying even a touch of mental illness. She never stressed out about things, and was known for her relaxed attitude. She’d be the least likely candidate for suicide.
But her mother had called Robbie for a reason. Apparently, something was not right. The back of her neck had strange marks on it – three blue bruises. The police were convinced she managed to do it to herself somehow. To make matters worse, the Tylenol bottle didn’t have the lid twisted off, but rather torn off, which is hard to do considering that the caps are built with a safety feature that requires the cap to be turned off in a certain manner. Of course, the police dismissed this as well. However, she saved the scariest detail for last – Four letters were scrawled on the wall in her blood.
The letters were “O B S C”.
She asked Robbie if he knew if she was involved in something, knew some dangerous people, anything. Robbie told her that he didn’t know anything.
But Robbie lied. He did know one thing. You could say he was in the know, just like was Cherry, just like I am. But there was no way he was going to tell her that.
When I heard what happened. I just stared at Robbie for a minute. I knew he wasn’t joking, but I was still tempted to ask if it was all one big joke. And then, after a moment, I cried. I cried and cried and cried, and so did Robbie.
After we were done, I turned to him and asked what was on both of our minds.
“You don’t think that the letters…”
“Yes,” he replied, “that’s exactly what I think. What other words start with ‘OBSC’?”
I thought for a moment, came up blank.
“This is… fucking scary,” I said after a moment, and then, “Wait, hold up. I told Sarah about Obscurity Man yesterday… You don’t think…”
“Fuck, man,” he said. “I don’t know what the hell to think anymore.”
But we soon dismissed our fears. Maybe the story just sort of drove her over the deep end, we rationalized. Although neither of us truly believed it. However, it was certainly easier to accept than the alternative.
I decided to stay at Robbie’s that night (his parents weren’t home, so I didn’t feel uncomfortable), and we had a sort of Tarantino marathon (neither of us could play games because it reminded us too much of Cherry). Halfway through Kill Bill: Volume Two, I started to feel sort of sick to my stomach. This anxiety kept building over time, and I turned to Robbie and noticed that he had a nervous expression on his face.
“Man,” he said, “I feel like shit all of a sudden. Let’s turn off the movie.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Me, too.”
But even after we shut off the film, we continued to grow more anxious. Robbie paced, I sat on his bed, cross-legged. Robbie paced towards his window, and just as he was about to look away, he froze.
“What the fuck?” he exclaimed.
I walked over to the window, heart pumping rapidly.
At first, it seemed like a weird shadow projected by the streetlight, or something like that. It was located on the other side of Robbie’s street. But slowly it took shape, growing out of itself in a bizarre manner. It looked like the figure of a man, and it gave off a gray light.
Obscurity Man, Obscurity Man
He – it – flashed like a firework. And it was closer. It was at the edge of Robbie’s lawn. It was constantly changing, a gray buzzing shroud cloaking it. But I could make out a head in all of the activity, and I knew that it looked right at us.
Obscurity Man, Obscurity Man
Neither of us could scream. He flashes again, and is even closer, staring up from below the window. The gray light seemed to fluctuate swiftly, as if strobe lights were plastered all of its body. The same two words blast through my head over, and over, and over.
Obscurity Man, Obscurity Man
He flashes, and we don’t see him. I turn to Robbie first, before we each slowly turn around. He’s right in front of us. I could see that he was covered in what I can only compare to television static. He was almost soundless, except for the occasional light screech that he emitted randomly. I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s the only way I can describe it. At some points, it looked like he was wearing a brown jacket; I could almost make out a strangely shaped hat at some points. But his form kept shifting endlessly. It inched closer and closer. I could hear its name in my head, almost louder than I can stand it.
OBSCURITY MAN, OBSCURITY MAN
I’m paralyzed by fear. Neither of us could scream, his voice was in our head, preventing it. He sticks out a hand and three dark fingers form out of the static, followed by a second hand. He grabs Robbie’s shoulders with one, and sticks the fingers of the other hand onto his neck. He is pushed forwards.
OBSCURITY MAN, OBSCURITY MAN
I feel a sudden jet of burning passion open in my head. The anger burns the fear, and I’m free from my paralysis for a moment. It killed Cherry. It’s going to kill Robbie. It probably killed that Jude guy too. My hand forms into a fist and I strike it in the side.
The next few seconds were the strangest and longest in my life. In an instant, I know many of the Obscurity Man’s thoughts. I see the people in the know. Robbie is the oldest. I am after him. After me is Sarah. And after her is a younger boy that I don’t know. I can read their thoughts, especially the loud ones that they’ve had in the past – the loud ones seem to linger. I know now that Robbie still liked, or rather loved, Cherry. I know that Sarah has been thinking about me, and one loud thought of hers is “WHEN WILL HE ASK ME OUT?”. I don’t get much from the young boy, he is too new, I guess.
Horrifyingly, I get the jumbled thoughts of Obscurity Man. He is annoyed that I am here, shocked that I have struck him. But he cannot hurt me, for fear of an ancient rule. There are bits and pieces, but most of it is hidden… obscured.
My connection is mostly broken, and I’m hurled against the wall through a surge of energy that he emits. He is angry now, that much is apparent. The static runs off of his face in the top-left section, and I can see his eye. It’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a dark void, hungry to consume, but somehow also darkly intelligent. And then, together with Robbie, there is a flash. I rush to his window, ignoring the pain that my muscles are registering.
Obscurity Man thrusts Robbie from the neck across his lawn, and pushes him onto the road. A car barrels down the street and into Robbie, sending his body flying through the air, before crashing down onto the pavement, legs splayed. The asshole driving the car doesn’t bother stopping – he just floors it and keeps going.
I felt precisely the moment when Robbie died. I could feel it second-hand, through Obscurity Man. I’m the only one that’s had a chance to touch him, to force away some of his obscurity. This makes him weak, I assume, but only to me. I have a connection with him. I can get fragments of his thoughts; I can sense where he is.
None of this occurred to me, however, until I rode my bike home and puked out my guts while crying hysterically for hours. I live in the basement of my house, so luckily my parents couldn’t hear my upstairs (I tried to be as quiet as possible, but you can only do so much when you’ve gone through the most traumatic moment of your life).
When I felt that I had my act together, I gave Sarah a text. I could feel from Obscurity Man that she was still up. I asked her if she told anybody that story that I told her the other day, already knowing the answer. She replied that she had indeed told her little brother the story. She asked why I was asking. No reason, I replied. And then, I asked her if she’d like to go out sometime. She responded that she’d love to, and that she was happy that I finally got around to asking her.
And so I sat, for hours and hours, knowing that my life depended on Sarah’s brother not telling somebody about Obscurity Man. And so I thought. And probed into Obscurity Man. He was getting farther. From what I understand, he travels through the planes of reality. He is fast, but not a god. He takes a while to jump back and forth between realities.
I’ve decided to kill it. Obscurity Man, that is.
At first, I thought about killing Sarah, her brother, and myself. But I knew immediately that although it would destroy him, I could never do such a thing. And even if I could, when I was the only one left, he’d likely have enough power to flash into our reality instantly and prevent me from ending myself. So it could all have been in vain.
I could deal with myself dying. I’ve considered just killing myself, ending my stress. But that means that Sarah is next. And I couldn’t let anything happen to her.
And then it hit me. He gains power from his obscurity. The more people that know about him, the less powerful he becomes.
I could feel him stiffen as I thought about what I was going to do. He immediately started moving towards me, I can feel him slowly but surely getting closer and closer. But he – what am I saying, it – won’t be here for a few hours, at least.
I heard one thought clearly, amongst its jumble of panicked notions. He said, the rule must be broken, just this once. I think I know what that means. He’s going to kill me when he gets to me.
But it might already be too late. I confess that I feel some guilt because I’ve put everyone I’ve told this story to in a dangerous position. Now, you know about him. It simply doesn’t matter whether you believe my story or not (who in their right mind would?). What matters is that you are now in the know, because you’ve heard my story. Welcome.
I can only hope that enough of you hear this to cause it to lose power. Perhaps enough will hear it to put him into stasis. I can only hope that so many will be in the know that he dies entirely, although I somehow doubt that this will be the case.
I’ve spent what could be the last few hours of my life telling this story, my friends. Hear it. Share it. Hit him where it hurts. I hope that he won’t still have enough power to rush into our reality and reap those that are in the know like some bizarre Angel of Death after this gets out, because then I’d have a lot of death on my hands. But I had to do it. For Sarah, if not for myself, and for those who would come after.
The chain must be broken. It must die.
Obscurity Man must be obscure no longer.
🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available
Written by Braedon Balko Edited by Craig Groshek Thumbnail Art by Dela Longfish Narrated by N/A🔔 More stories from author: Braedon Balko
Publisher's Notes: N/A Author's Notes: N/AMore Stories from Author Braedon Balko:
Related Stories:
You Might Also Enjoy:
Recommended Reading:
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).