Moving at the end of my high school career is not what I imagined. My mother and father insisted that we move a few towns a way. Far enough to escape poor memories, yet close enough to the ones we wanted to keep.
The town we reside in now has a decent enough track record, and the crime rate seems to be pretty low. My father has become so quiet now, so sallow. I swear, my mother’s complexion will never come back.
They walk around aimlessly, searching for my twin. My lovely sister, who perished in our old town. The victim of a gruesome murder, an unresolved one at that.
At night, I like to stay up and listen to my parents reminisce over the beautiful moments they had with my sister. Tonight, the talk is a bit different. It is the five month anniversary of her death. These discussions always become intense.
“She was always a little crazy, you know?” My mother’s shaky voice trembles out the phrase, and I cannot believe what I am hearing.
“I know dear, but she was our daughter. It could not be helped that she sometimes got things mixed up. I think it was a defense mechanism.” The pale face of my father sinks even further back into his skull, and the sadness drips from his chin.
How can my parents do this? How can they belittle my sister like that? I barge through the front door, and make my way into the brisk night. The leaves of the trees fall, tickling my face as I dance though the cold, black streets.
Up ahead I see a dismal street lamp, and what appears to be a bench beneath it. A crusty looking man is sitting on the bench, his head between his knees. I slowly approach the figure, calculating my steps as not to scare the poor fellow.
Slowly, he lifts his head and stares directly at me. His look, if I can even call it that, is tortured. His yellowing eyes search my face, and my body. The stubble on his chin moves as his jaw cracks in a nervous twitch.
“She always liked to walk at night.” His voice is a stale mix of sawdust, and cigarettes. The pitch rises, then falls as he stretches the word “night.” His foul mouth twists into a beguiled smirk, and his hands ball into fists.
Will a glimmer of hesitation he rises from the bench, and I see a gleam coming from his pocket.
A knife, I presume. I feel as though I should run, but something is cementing me to the ground at my feet.
His black coat shuffles in the wind, and I catch a whiff of malt whiskey and smoke. What a poor man, he must not have a friend in the world.
I begin to follow him, and he does not seem to mind my company. He does not once turn around to greet me, but simply walks. He keeps mumbling that phrase, “she always liked to walk at night.” It is starting to drive me mad. Why do those words pierce my heart oh so much? I feel like I have heard them before tonight.
He mumbles the words once more, and I shout, “Who? Who loved to walk at night?!”
With a flick of his coat, the knife is in his palms, and I can feel it on my throat. His stale breath is making me ill, and his eyes burn holes in my skin.
19 Comments on 'She Always Liked to Walk at Night'
Wait what does her sister have to do with any of this
i’m confused, did that guy kill her sister
They are twins.
Hmm good stoey but a bit confused. Did the sister used to walk around every night and the man mistaken her as her twin?
The title jumped out at me! Oh boy, before I started getting into reading creepypasta, I’d walk home alone at any point between 1-5AM without a care. I was also between the ages of 15-19 when I’d do this. I’d scale anywhere from 20-90 minute walks all by myself at night – given this was back in 2006-2011 so it may have been a safer time. I was seldom bothered on these walks. The only times would be someone offering to drive me home, and they’d move on after I declined. I’m in my early 20’s now, more aware of the dangers, but after reading creepypasta enough, even taking the skytrain (subway) and bus home late at night scares me. Plus, nowadays even if I decide to walk as early as 11pm, teenagers will harass me from the other side of the street :< or junkies on their bikes…
It is kind of confusing isn’t it? Well, essentially I was trying to go for the old “ghost does not know they are a ghost thing.” The main character was supposed to be a bit loopy, thinking she had a twin, when in all reality she was the one who was dead, and watching over her parents. Her tragic death repeats itself. I suppose it could really use some work.
It might be that he is the killer of her sister.And he hopped towns like she did?
Not bad! Enjoyed it
Pretty good story, but just wondering about the sister..?
I’m kind of surprised by the low rating, I thought this was brilliant.
In my opinion I think that was her twin and the guy has always lived in that town and they moved there and stuff and then while she was walking the guy thought it was her sister and was confused and drunk and tried to kill the twin which now lived in the same town as him… Sorry if there are any mistakes it’s like 2am and im in the dark typing this so…
That is a very good bowl of pasta
I think you had a really concept here. It could have going either way where she never had a twin and she’s the ghost only her killer could see. -Or the killer mistakes her for the ghost of her twin. -It was rather confusing though as to what was really going on. I think if you’d taken more time to flush this out you would have had a really good story.
so from what I see (personal opinion) she is the one who’s dead (being killed) by that man and she wander around her parents thinking that she’s still alive and think that her parents always talked about her Sister, but in reality it’s her that her parents are talking about. hope this help ._. still new to this be nice 🙂
are you guys stupid there never was a sister, she fell victim of a gruesome murder and her mind couldn’t handle or comprehend the fact she was dead. therefor, creating a twin sister in her mind……… if you think i`m wrong keep it to yourself. we all understand and comprehend what we read differently. whereas some people have complete comprehension others may lack in intelligence.
I enjoyed the story, it’s a little difficult to understand that she wasn’t a twin but the ghost herself but other than that well written and I’d enjoy reading more storys from you. 4/5
Little confusing but pretty nice
I think when he said “She liked to walk at night”was just to get the persons attention so that way he could kill her.
Very interesting story. Bit of a twisty pasta but very tasty at the same time!! 5/5