I know, I know, I shouldn’t have written the story. I shouldn’t have posted to r/nosleep with a made-up story where I wasn’t even the main character. My name is not Macy like the other post said. My name doesn’t matter. In a way, this is karma and not the type of karma a Reddit poster wants. I created my own nightmare, Mister Teddy, the black-eyed man, they aren’t supposed to be real. I made them up, it’s not even my best work, just the first thing I posted, and hopefully, this post won’t be my last. I want to live. I’m not sure the black-eyed man will kill me, but he doesn’t seem friendly, and if he lives up to the lore, my lore, I’m fucked. I would think I was just losing my mind, that it’s just stress; but he… it is very real and I’m not the only one who’s seen him.
The first time I saw him, I was working on my other projects. People pay me to write stories for them, not the most lucrative business but it pays the bills. I get to work from home too, an introverted writer’s dream. I make my own hours doing what I love and never have to leave the house except for food. I start every morning with a cup of homebrewed coffee and a quick email check. I scrolled through my emails, a few from customers but mostly junk and random social media notifications. One email caught my attention though, it was called *Mister Teddy wants to die* .. It was weird ‘cause I don’t have my email posted on Reddit anywhere nor do I use my real name… so how did whoever sent this get my email? I had one post on that Reddit account and it hadn’t been up long. It only got stranger from there: according to the email, the sender was.. me? I don’t have the best memory, but I would remember sending myself an email last night.
I shouldn’t have opened it. It could’ve just been spam or a virus, maybe a joke, but I was curious. I clicked on it and there was nothing on the email but a link to a YouTube video. I let my curiosity lead the way as I click the link to find a video titled “Mister Teddy wants to die”. It had a black thumbnail and started with a white room, tarp, and wooden chair. Okay, I thought this has to be a fan or someone with enough free time to make what was essentially a creepypasta video. The details made me uneasy. It was exactly how I envisioned the room in my head. Then again, it was just a basic room, a basic chair, and a clear tarp – not exactly a difficult scene to bring to life. A few seconds passed by and, I won’t lie, I was excited to see the black-eyed man. I wanted to see how he would be portrayed. He walked out from behind the camera right on time and I was stunned. His appearance was eerily accurate. That should’ve been a red flag but how could he be real, I made him up ffs. He pushes the cart and the video goes black. I was impressed. The darkness fades and Mister Teddy is sitting in the chair. Hi there, [insert my real name], I know you’ve been watching.” I smirked, they knew my email so it makes sense they’d know my real name. The black-eyed man read through the script perfectly. Word for word spoken just like how I had envisioned. Then he said his final line: “I’ll make it easy, just two choices, raise your right hand for the knife and left for the gun.”
At this point, I was starting to get creeped out but was still more impressed than disturbed. That was until my camera light went on. Oh great, I thought. “This is a really elaborate way to hack someone.” I was more annoyed than scared.. “Choose!”
He practically screamed the word. “No thank you, I’m not playing your games anymore”. I rolled my eyes and shut my laptop, not even bothering to exit the page or even pause the video.
I decided to get breakfast, grab my laptop and take it to the computer guy, Steven. To my surprise, I was told that the video, the email, and apparently my sanity were missing. Me and Steven had been friends since grade school and he was always concerned with the amount of time I spent locked away inside. It felt too real to be a work of my imagination but I didn’t feel like arguing with him. I took my laptop home and began working on writing projects. The rest of the day was uneventful, just like every other day. That was until night hit.
It started off as a soft tap on my door, which then slowly evolved to loud banging that only got worse the longer I ignored it. I wasn’t about to open the door this late at night but I just couldn’t ignore it or the headache it caused anymore. I grabbed my old softball bat and quietly made my way to the door. “Who the fuck are you and why the hell are you banging on my door?!” The only response I got was silence. I’m not the bravest person, so I decided to pass on opening the door. The banging stopped, so whoever was outside was no longer my concern. As I started to walk back, my heart sunk. “Choose..” a whisper came from the other side of the door. “Choose!” The whisper was now practically a shout. “Fuck off, asshole, or I’m calling the police!”
My heart was pounding against my ribs, like an animal trying to escape its cage. I held my breath hoping that I’d hear footsteps walking away but instead the banging restarted; I nearly pissed myself when the phone stuffed in my sweatpants’ pocket began vibrating. It was Steven. I slowly pulled it out of my pocket, slid the green phone icon, and put my phone as close to my lips as possible so he could hear me whisper. “Steven…” “Why are you whispering and who’s outside of your door?” I’ll admit his nosiness was annoying, especially when he moved into the apartment building across from mine, but right now I’m just glad he’s there. “I don’t know and I’m not answering the door to find out.” “I don’t blame you. He doesn’t look friendly, you should call the cop if the neighbors haven’t already.” I could hear his concern, which didn’t make me feel better. “What does he look like?” Words I’d soon regret .. “He’s tall, bald, and pale enough to get a sunburn in the winter.” The mental image of the black-eyed man standing outside my door gave me chills, but Steven interrupted my thoughts: “There’s something wrong about that guy.” There was a pause before he spoke again. “You need to call 911, now.”
His tone was urgent. I hung up but before I could dial 911, the sound of the breaking glass ripped my attention away. An unnaturally pale, almost greyish hand with dark veins smashed through the glass. My fight or flight response failed me, I was paralyzed. I was lucky that one of my neighbors had already called the cops. The sound of sirens and the blue and red lights flooded the street. The pale hand retreated and before I knew it, the cops were taking my statement. I spent the rest of the night at Steven’s and I’ve been there since.
This morning I got a notification from Reddit; someone had messaged me. It was an invite to a private discord server named “Mister Teddy doesn’t want to die” with the message “others have seen the video too and we can help” embedded into it. This can’t be real. It’s straight out of the story I made up. Is someone fucking with me? Or is this real? Maybe the server will have answers, I honestly don’t know, I haven’t written that far…