The Dark Somnium - "A man has been standing in the middle of our street for the past 4 days" Creepypasta | Scary Story

Episode Date: August 19, 2021

This creepypasta scary story is from the nosleep subreddit, written by Richard Saxon--- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/darksomnium/message Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

I awoke to the faint sound of sobbing in the distance. At first, my tired mind associated the sound with one of our kids, with my mind barely lingering on the edge of consciousness. But the longer I lay there, the more I started to realize just how off it sounded. The sobs were too dark, akin to those of a grown man, and they were coming from outside our home. Can you check on the kids, please? My wife mumbled where she lay next to me, still partially asleep.

It's not the kids. I whispered back, more annoyed than anything. Upon peeking out the window, I quickly confirmed my suspicions. As I thought, there was a man standing in the middle of the street, just sobbing. Even though the ancient streetlights outside barely illuminated him, something was clearly wrong about his presence. He stood perfectly still as he sobbed, not even appearing to breathe as he let out the broken calls that shattered the silence of night.

Across the street, I could see some of my neighbors' lights turn on, as Moore had clearly been awoken by the sounds of distress. Shut up, will you? A man screamed from down the street, but he received no response. Though my first instinct was to check if he needed help, something about his appearance locked me in place, frozen from fear and leaving me unable to logically plan out my next move. He was tall, with only a few strands of gray hair emerging from his otherwise bald head. He was facing me, but due to the poor lighting conditions, I couldn't get a clear look

at his face. About a half an hour had passed before I realized I hadn't moved an inch. I had been transfixed, and only broke free once my wife properly woke up to ask what I was doing? I don't know. I stuttered. There's a man standing on the street. I think he needs help. Joanna joined my side at the window. Even in the dark, I could tell her face had turned completely pale by the mere sight of the man. What's wrong? Call the police. Don't go outside. She said with a shaky voice. Why? What did you see? I don't. I don't know. Just don't go outside. Please. She begged.

I grabbed her hand and gently pulled her away from the window. Something about the man had put us both in an undeniable state of panic, but, apart from his unsettling look, there wasn't an explainable reason for the fear we felt. Joanna, go check on the kids. I'll call the police, all right? I half ordered, half asked. As I dialed 911, I wondered what I could possibly say to convey the threat of a seemingly harmless man just standing there and crying. Still, left without any other options, I turned to the police. 911, what's your emergency?

A woman asked on the other end. Sorry, my name is Zach Larson. There's a man standing in the middle of the street, just crying loudly. I don't know if he's drunk or what, but he's scaring the kids. I can't really say it's an emergency, but something is definitely wrong with the man, I explained. All right, sir, we'll send a patrol car to check it out. Could you confirm your address, please? She asked.

I confirmed my details, and the conversation ended. Due to the quiet night, they estimated that a patrol car would swing by in just under 10 minutes. With that, I felt like my civic duties had been completed, and once Joanna returned to tell me that the children were fast asleep, I calmed down ever so slightly. After closing the blinds, the two of us headed back to bed, confident that the police would have had. handle the situation. And I wish that would have been the end of our story. I truly do. But as fate would have it, things would only get worse from there.

There I lay, too unsettled to fall asleep. I just stared at the ever ticking clock as an hour passed. The man kept crying, producing unrelenting sobs with each passing second. Then two hours passed, and the police still had not appeared. By then, I considered checking out the window once more, but the mere thought of him standing there kept me from even parting the curtains. At around four in the morning, I had come to assume that I'd suffer through another sleepless night, but as the first rays of orange sunshine hit the blinds, the world around me fell dark,

forcing me into a dreamless slumber. To my horror, the sobs wouldn't cease even then. Passed while I remained in an uncomfortable state, somewhere between full consciousness and true sleep. Once I finally awoke, I was met with little more than total darkness coming from outside. During the summer, I'd expect the sun to rise around six, and since the time had been around four the last time I checked, I knew I couldn't have been under for more than thirty minutes.

Despite that logic, my body felt beyond broken. I was excruciatingly parched, and my bladder was on the brink of rupture. I rolled out of bed, weak and broken, still hearing the sounds of the crying man. Meanwhile, my wife still slept peacefully, seemingly unbothered by the ungodly noise. Then I picked up my phone and checked the time. It read 12.3 a.m. an impossible hour, considering it had been four mere moments ago. I stumbled over to the window, still petrified, but determined to figure out exactly what the hell was going on.

He just stood there, unmoved since the last time I laid eyes upon him. Down the road, I noticed an empty patrol car with the lights blinking, but the officers themselves were nowhere in sight. What the hell is going on? I mumbled to myself. As before, the sight of the man put me into a short trance, one that was only broken. broken once I heard a tiny voice coming from behind me. Why is the man crying?

My son asked. Hey, Alex. Where's your brother? I asked back. He's in his room. He wet the bed. He said, matter-of-factly. Stephen was only five, but I'd assumed his bed-wedding days were a thing of the past, considering

the last accident, had been over a year earlier. Before checking on him, I decided to give the police another call, but before I could dial the number, I knew. noticed the day. It was Saturday, which meant we'd been asleep for almost 24 hours, skipping over Friday entirely. Alex, go back to your room. Daddy has to make a call, then I'll come check on you, all right? In shock, I jotted the information down to a broken calendar and called the police once more. Alas, to my absolute horror, I didn't have a single bar of signal. Oh, God, we slept through the entire day? How?

called out in confusion and embarrassment. She just rolled over herself to check the time. I don't know. I responded meekly. It doesn't make any sense. And that guy is still crying? Where's the police? Their car is out there, but they're just gone.

As the minutes went by, it dawned on me that we actually had missed an entire day. That's why Stephen had wet the bed and why my own bladder was on the verge of exploding because we'd somehow been sedated. We'd been forced to sleep through the day only to suffer the horrors of night. But as parents, we had an incredible ability to reevaluate our priorities. Regardless of the situation, we'd deal with our kids first. We headed over to clean up Stephen's bed. All the while, we tried to come up with an exit strategy.

We tried out each and every phone, hopelessly calling for help. When the phones failed, we tried the internet. which turned out to be just as futile. Try the television. Joanna suggested. Upon turning the ancient device on, we were met with little more than a staticy mess. It was a screen of snow mixed with just barely intelligible images. Based on what we could guess, the image showed the outline of a man standing in front of the camera,

overlaid only by a single line of text that read, Come Outside. How is it doing that? Joanna asked in a panic. I don't know, but I'm pretty sure going outside is a fucking stupid idea. I blurted out, momentarily forgetting the kids were there. Sorry, I didn't mean to say it that way. Joanna and I moved to the window, ordering the kids to stay away. On the other side of the street, one of our neighbors stumbled out, seemingly disoriented.

He was wielding a bat. I'm going to fuck you up. He yelled. I pulled the window open, ready to yell at him to get back inside. No sooner had our neighbor reached the crying man than the air fell to a deafening silence. A second passed, then the sobs were replaced by a maniacal laughter that increased an intensity for each passing moment. Though we all knew the laughter came from the man, it simultaneously sounded like someone was standing inside our own house. It was the loudest thing I'd ever heard, enough to knock us to the ground in absolute agony.

Close the window! I quickly did as commanded to no avail. Despite our efforts, the laughter remained as incessant and loud as ever. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it just stopped. What was that? Alex cried as Joanna grabbed both him and Stephen in a tight hug. Shhh, it's okay. She said as comforting as she could.

Just stay away from the windows, all right? By the time I could stand up to assess the situation, our neighbor had long since vanished. All that was left in his absence was a trail of bull. blood and guts that led up to the monster of a man who'd promptly returned to sobbing relentlessly. He's gone. I let out in merely a whisper. The next hours were spent in absolute silence. All we could do was wait for sunrise and pray for a hopeful escape.

We kept the television on should any news appear. Our kids, while worried, were too young to fully grasp the gravity of the situation. In a way, I envied them. They saw us as their ultimate guardians, able to protect them from any harm in the world. But based on what we just witnessed, I didn't believe that to be true. We moved to the kitchen to grab some food, counting down each minute until daylight. But as I noticed the first orange hue appear on the horizon, I once again felt my legs give up beneath me.

In less than a second, darkness had enveloped me, and I fell unconscious on the floor. Once again we awoke around midnight the next night, meaning yet another day had come and gone. But that time, we didn't have any phones or computers to tell us the date, as the batteries had long since died. All we had were a couple of wristwatches to tell the time. Still, the sobs persisted. It had gotten ever so slightly louder since our neighbor got killed, but despite the obvious calls for distress, there wasn't a single hint of sadness portrayed in the broken cries.

The more we listened, the less we believed the man to be human. Let's turn on the lights. That thing is creeping me the hell out. I flicked the switch, but nothing happened. After futilely checking every power source in the house, including the circuits, I realized that the entire neighborhood had gone dark. That's when my wife asked a question that truly caused all hope to abandon my body. Why haven't they come to help us?

I didn't have a good answer, nor could I muster up any believable word. of comfort. I could only do my best to protect my family from the horrific threat looming over the neighborhood until I myself finally succumbed to it. That night, we witnessed another three of our neighbors exit their homes in attempts to confront the man. Each time, that sickly laughter would ring through the air and another friend would be dead. They didn't even resist their deaths. They just walked over without showing a hint of emotion, willingly meeting their agonizing demise. It wouldn't be until the third night before I finally began to understand why people walked

outside. We'd been forced to sleep through the light of day, only to be left without any source of light during the night. Having nothing else to do, we could only listen to the crying man. His sobs that had started out as panic-inducing noises had somehow turned sympathetic. The emotion resembled a twisted version of Stockholm syndrome. I wanted to desperately go out and meet the crying man, but I couldn't leave my family behind. Maybe he really does need help.

Joanna suggested. I think. I think it's time to go outside. Her words were so void of emotion, monotonous and cold. She stood up to leave, but I grabbed her before she could even approach the door. The shock seemed to briefly bring her back to reality. Think about the kids. I begged her.

They need us. The words seemed to break her free for. her trance, if only temporarily. I know, I know. I don't understand what I was even thinking. I wasn't myself. She cried. But her brief lucidity wouldn't last, because as I packed away the leftovers from the previous

night, I heard the front door unlock. The kids had already fallen asleep, and I knew I was about to follow suit. Still, I rushed over, only to see my wife getting ready to leave. I'm sorry. Were the last words she spoke to me before she left the house. Darkness would cover my eyes before I got a chance to react. The sickening laughter would be the only sound that accompanied me as I fell into a forced slumber. By the time I awoke, Joanna was just gone.

The only trace of her existence was a trail of coagulated blood glistening in the light from the streetlights leading up to the man. I didn't even have to call out for her. I knew she was dead. Which brings us to now. Four days have passed since the crying man first appeared on our street. We have enough food to last another week, but I fear we'll all be gone long before then. I've seen most of my neighbors meet their demise, and the only things keeping me from doing

the same are my kids. But they too have expressed a desire to go outside, and I don't know how long I can keep them safe. I'm documenting this as my last words before we depart this world. I've used an almost empty power bank to record this message. I don't really have any signal, but I'm hoping that it somehow gets through. People need to know what happened here. If you're hearing this, please send help.

I don't know how long I can keep resisting the cries.