The Dark Somnium - "The Tapping Man On My Sleeper Train" Creepypasta | Scary Stories from Reddit Nosleep

Episode Date: October 2, 2021

This Creepypasta Scary Story is from the nosleep subreddit, written by u/SignedSyledDelivered--- 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 sat back, intrigued. He was tapping on the corners of the table, left, right, left, right, left, right, and perfectly spaced intervals. It was almost hypnotic. It wouldn't have caught my notice, if not for the look of utter concentration and anxiety on his face, as he tapped carefully with the two fingers of each hand on each corner. I put my shades on so that I could observe undetected. I bought mirrored shades just for this reason. I'm not a creep.

I'd just like to watch what others do. The quirks they have and the little details in their actions. Well, okay, I realize that still sounds kind of creepy. Well, it's people watching anyway, and nothing more. I find human behaviors fascinating. The door to the train carriage slid open, and the noise of the tracks and buzz of conversation crowded in. I looked at the passenger opposite me, still dedicatedly tapping on the table's corners,

but now with an increase in the intensity of his frown. Hi there! A chirpy young lady was at the door. Her presence poured into the room, energetic, lively, unstoppable. I contemplated pretending to be asleep. Then I saw the distress rolling on the tapers' face as he tried desperately to keep his beat going, determinedly ignoring the lady. I sighed, then plastered a bright smile on my face to match her sunshine vibes.

Hey, we've got the bottom bunks. I hope that's all right. Both top bunks are free for you to choose. Great, thanks. She smiled at me. Then her gaze drifted to our fellow carriage bunker. She looked confused, then concerned for a moment. She opened her mouth and I immediately spoke up again. Let me help you with your stuff. I grabbed hold on one end of her heavy backpack. That did the trick. She shifted her attention back to me and grabbed hold of the other end of her backpack.

We heaved it onto the upper bunk. She looked back at the tapper, but this time she didn't try to say anything. She just raised an eyebrow, then turned to climb up the ladder to her bunk. I looked back at the tapper. He was now saying some words in time with the taps. Each word spat out with the tap in a curt, almost frantic manner. I couldn't help it. I wanted to look away, leave the carriage, give him some space to do whatever it was he needed

to do. But I was getting really curious about the tense words he was expelling under his breath. So instead, I shifted from my comfortable space at the end of my bunk and sat at the table opposite him. I put my head down on my side of the table. and pretended to take a nap. I could now make out some of the words. Do not ever.

I couldn't tell what the rest of the words were. He was pronouncing the words in slightly varying ways, as if attempting to say them in the perfect way, enunciating every phonem the words held. I kept my head down, just listening to his words and taps, and, without realizing it, somehow drifted off. I don't remember what I was dreaming about, except for. for the last scene. I was walking down some steps and realized that the ground wasn't there.

I walked off the last step and fell. I jerked awake. I must have startled him. He stopped his tapping. He looked at me as if registering my presence for the first time. We stared at each other for a moment or two. Then he looked down at the corners of the table. I could already see it happening, him getting distressed about his tapping ritual being disrupted

and falling back into a frenzy of tapping and chanting. Hey, it's nice to meet you. I said, before I could think it through. He looked at me with a tinge of surprise. In the bunk above him, the lady turned to her side and looked curiously at our interaction. Hey, he said softly, looking nervous and uneasy. Where are you headed to? I kept my tone light, pretending not to notice his hands clutching the corners of the table.

End of the line. Oh, that's a good two days away. Yeah, he said, nervously running a hand through his hair, then immediately gripping tightly onto the corners again. Hiya! The lady was climbing down the ladder to join us. Great to meet you guys. She chirruped. Her enthusiasm seemed to physically repel him.

He leant away from her while still holding on to the table's edges. Hey, you're up. It's nice to meet you, too. She gave me a wide grin, which faltered a little when she turned to him. He did not meet her eyes. His tension and anxiety were palpable. Well, I'm going to have an early dinner. Check out the food at the dining car.

You guys want anything? No, thanks. Let me know if the food's good. I kept my voice upbeat, matching her energy. She smiled and gave me a thumbs up. Then left the carriage, closing the door behind her. There was a long silence after that. He seemed stiff, unsure what to do.

I was pretty sure he was fighting. the overwhelming urge to tap on the table corners again. It's important to you, tapping the table edges in saying the words just right. I kept my tone as nonchalant and non-judgmental as possible. He looked up at me with a mixture of surprise and anger, which quickly dissolved into puzzled wonder, as he realized I was not making fun of him. Yes, I need to say it, just right. I need to tap it, just right.

I need to do them both, just right. I wanted to leave it at that and go back to my relaxing journey to my next destination. It was, after all, a year-long break for me, my epic vacation, but my professional instincts took over. Why do you need to do them just right? I... I just need to. He stared resolutely down at the table. What would happen if you didn't do them just right? He seemed discomfited by the very thought.

He shook his head. That's not okay. It won't be good. What if you didn't do them at all? I could almost swear I saw the color drain from his face. Bad, bad things would happen. What kind of bad things? I don't know, but bad things.

Very bad things. I know it. I nodded. It's a terrible feeling. You know something horrible would happen. You stop. You refuse to do it. And you can feel the dread in your body.

This inexplicable, paralyzing fear. It builds up until you snap and do whatever it is you need to do to ease it again. He looked at me with the first signs of actual interest since our journey began. Yes, exactly that. I nodded again, then added. I was that way with lights too. I had to switch my lights on and off, and off, until I was thinking exactly the right thought in the right way while the lights went off.

Otherwise, I was convinced horrible things would happen. I smiled gently at him. But one day, it got too much for me. I didn't want to live my life repeating my actions over and over to ward off some unnameable event, so I just stopped. I switched off the lights while thinking a bad thought, sat down, felt the fear come crashing down on me. I felt like I was suffocating with fear, with horror, with this intense dread that convinced

me that I would deeply regret not getting things just right. But I had somehow caused some horrible destruction. I looked up at him. His expression was unreadable. But nothing happened. I continued. Nothing bad happened, even though it felt so real, felt like it was going to happen. He stayed silent.

I cleared my throat nervously. I'd worked with others, too, who had these issues when I was a psychologist. They felt these things too, the fear, the terror, the urge, the needs. need to do whatever their fear was telling them to. I trailed off. His expression was becoming a familiar one. He was frowning. He seemed to be finding the right words to say.

You're describing OCD. I know what I have seems like OCD. I've been diagnosed with OCD. It's not OCD. He began tapping again. I'm sorry. How is it not like OCD? I'm sorry.

I didn't want to jump to any conclusions. I just wanted to understand what's going on. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, all the while still tapping. It was a long while before he spoke. When I stopped tapping, bad things do happen, or they do begin to happen, but I've always stopped them in time by tapping again. Could you tell me more? At least he wasn't back to spitting out those words.

I've tried to stop before. Of course, I've tried to stop before. You think I don't know how I look to others? You think I want to live my life enslaved to these acts? I want to hang out too. I want to talk to others. I want to be normal, but I can't. I've got so fed up.

I've tried to stop so many times, but every time I do, something happens. I didn't speak. Just waited for him to continue. Weird things happen. Strange things I can't explain. His breathing was quickening. He was obviously terrified by his recall. of the past. I tried it once at home when I was still a student. I fought it when the urge came,

when the fear hit me, and I knew that it was time for me to tap again. I knew I needed to do it. I tapped for a bit on the sides of my bed, then I stopped. It felt wrong, all sorts of wrong. I felt terrified, but I refused to tap anyway. Then, then the room just started creaking. The floorboards did. My cupboard, my desk, everything was creeping, then my textbooks fell off the table. I had to start tapping again. Something horrible was going to happen. I knew it. I started tapping again, and it all stopped. I kept my face neutral, unassuming. I nodded. I tried another time when I was dating this girl, and I just wanted to be normal, to have a proper relationship, to not have to run away to do my stupid rituals when the urge is hit.

Then we started hearing footsteps. We didn't know where they came from, just footsteps near us, though there was no one else. The footsteps got louder, closer, and I had to go. I had to leave. I ran off and found this lamp post. It felt right. I started to tap on the sides of it, and it stopped. The footsteps stopped.

I was starting to feel a bit unnerved. That must have been terrifying. It was tough enough for me to stop. Having those things happen, it must have... No wonder you couldn't stop. My words seemed to hit him hard. He started blinking away tears. It was really tough, but I want to stop.

I want so badly to stop. I want everything to go away. I want to be normal. I want to be free. I want to be able to have a conversation with my train mates. I want to walk to the dining car, have a meal, and... and not be stared at like a freak. The tears kept spilling from his eyes. I felt a tingling, salty sensation at the back of my throat and a heavy pull on my heart. Do you want to try,

here, with me here? We could face it together. His tears gave way to proper sobs. I didn't know what to do. I just sat there looking at him silently. When his sobs subsided, he lifted his reddened eyes and regarded me for a while. I do. I do want to try. Please, maybe it'll be better with someone else around. I let out a small sigh of relief. I was hoping he'd be willing to try. I couldn't deal with the thought of him going about his life, living the way he did.

I just want to point out another thing that could help us along, I said. He watched me expectantly. It can really help to think of what's the worst thing that could happen, then compare it to your life as you're living it now, and be okay with the worst thing. that could happen to rather face that possibility than live as you're living now. He seemed uncertain, scared. For me, it worked. I thought, well, the worst thing that could have happened would have probably been somebody

dying, the world ending, severe injuries, and whatnot. And I realized I'd rather just let it happen, get it over and done with, than to keep doing these gestures, these repetitive actions, being slave to my fear. I needed to be done with it, whatever the cost. He considered my words with a grave expression. Then he nodded. I'm willing. It's been too long.

Too long. It's not allowed me to have a proper life. I smiled at him. Then let's do it. He looked at me, still tapping the sides of the table. Then his jaw tightened and he nodded. A few moments passed before he stopped tapping. He put his hands flat on the table.

We waited. The first few minutes seemed to take an immense toll on him. His face was pale, and cold sweat beat at his face. His breaths were shallow and quick. More time passed, and he seemed almost ready to relax. Then the lights in the carriage flickered. He seemed to almost jump out of his skin. He reached out his hands to the corners of the table, but I grabbed them and placed them back

on the top of the table. I pressed down on them for a while, then let go. He had to do this himself. The lights went out. I took a few deep, calming breaths. This was a coincidence. I knew it, logically. This was a highly unfortunate coincidence, but that was all it was.

And if I could help him through it, he could be free from these obsessions and compulsions for the rest of his life, or at least be less controlled by them. I grabbed his hands to make sure he didn't start tapping in the dark. He whimpered a little. He couldn't see my face, but I smiled at him nonetheless, hoping that I could send him some reassuring vibes. Then the train jutted to a halt. I began to feel the cold pricks of sweat on my own face.

I realized my face was tensed up, my grip on his hands tight. I forced myself to relax. He grabbed onto my arm once I lessened the pressure on his hands. Despite my fear, I felt heartened. He was determined not to tap. no matter what. We sat in the dark silence, ignoring the aura of doom and fear that had settled around us. Then we heard the breathing. Something was breathing heavily on the bunk above him. A cold needle of fear pierced my heart. We stayed incredibly still. The breathing came downwards.

Whatever it was right next to him now. We could hear the rough wafting of air as it breathed onto his face. I heard his breath quicken as his hands clamped painfully on my arms. He still wasn't tapping. I felt a deep respect for him even as I contemplated my impending doom. Then the raspy breaths of whatever it was shifted. It was by my right ear now. I could feel it.

It was strangely cold. Every time it breathed thin there was a wet rattling sound. When it breathed out, my ear was grazed by a sharp, cold gust. It stank. It had a horrible, rotting stench about it. But still, we grabbed hold of one another's arms, refusing to let go, refusing to tap. I don't know what came over us. What made us so emboldened as to continue resisting despite the insane things going on in our carriage. Its cold, mocking voice slithered into the quiet of our carriage. I was beyond convinced at this point that this was anything related to OCD.

Willing to pay the price for you? It hissed. Do you accept credit cards? The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. My blood froze in my veins as the possible repercussions of my stupidity struck me. Then the carriage was flooded with light. The lady was back, our savior. Hey, guys, the food was great.

She took in the scene of us clasping each other's arms and death grips. Oh, wow. Okay. You guys sure bonded without me. A cold, heavy air began to do. dispersed, a light whisper caressed my ears. Then it was gone. Its presence ebbed away just like that.

He looked at me with shock and relief on his face. Yeah, we did it. He said, smiling at me in gratitude, a pure joy began to light his face. He looked like a whole different person. I smiled back at him, shrugging off the disquiet I felt. We did.