The Scratcher

A creepy pasta by Ben Feuer (created in 2016)

Ben Feuer, Creative Writer

My… my name is Greg Parker, and I am a freelance investigative journalist. This past week, I have tried to crack the case of a murder in South Boynton, a place in Florida. All leads pointed to a ramshackle, abandoned house in a state of decay.  Almost half a month ago, there was a savage murder of an old woman. There was no sign of the killer when the police arrived at the scene; save for three trails of gore leading from the dead body to the backyard, and a wound on the victims stomach that seemed to be caused by the impact of three serrated knives. The old woman was a hermit. Nothing in the house was stolen. There was no motive. The murder weapon was never found.


It was raining heavily the day I drove to the front of the house. I walked out of the car, taking my video camera. The house was at the end of a cul-de-sac. All other houses nearby had been abandoned. A sudden chill came over me as I opened the door leading into the house. There was a living room to my left, among which came the horrid smell of death, for the police did not clean up the carnage. I took another step forward.


The door closed behind me with a loud bang. I heard a loud scream from the living room, like that of the victim when she was murdered. I fired up the camera, and started recording. I relied on the cameras light to guide me through the pitch darkness.


My heart pounded. I walked to my left to examine the body. To my horror, the flesh of the body had been partially torn off. The head of the victim was completely mutilated, with only a shattered skull left behind in a pool of crimson. The jaw of the skull eerily moved up and down. The house was dark. I used a flashlight to try to look at the skull in more detail. I…I… I then remember seeing the stuff of nightmares.


Inside the eye holes of the woman’s skull were eggs. Not of animal origin, but of something completely different. As I filmed the horrific scene, an egg cracked open, emitting green juice from within. Something was inside it, wanting to come out. The eggs looked like parasitic larvae.


I backed up in fright. What was the cause of this!? An undiscovered species of some kind!? And… at the time I thought I needed to investigate the house further, that it would be for the good of society.


I was never so wrong in my entire life.


While exploring the house, I eventually wandered into a bathroom. The mirror to my left immediately grabbed my attention. It was surrounded with gold. Strange symbols were drawn on it in blood. Three scratch marks went diagonally down the glass in the mirror.

I looked around the room with my flashlight. The shower was running. The curtains were splattered in crimson. There was a clicking sound like that of a beast choking on its own blood. Armed with only a flashlight and a camera, I drew open the curtains.


The camera fell onto the floor, shattering. I screamed, tears in my eyes.


A creature, not quite alive, not quite dead, with one eye and a mouth full of long spikes grinned as it stood up from the base of the shower, coated in blood. Spikes emerged from its back and forehead. The shape of its legs were like those of a frog, and its hands were like humans, save for only three long, and blood stained serrated claws on each. It was humanoid in form, and its skin was pale and bloody.  It made clicking noises as it stood up. I screamed, making a bolt for the backyard. The creature was right behind me. It screeched a sound so horrifying that it my ears bled. The backyard door was not opening. There was a window nearby. I quickly broke the window with my flashlight and ran outside; the creature slipped behind me, but then ran at me faster then ever.


I bolted for the woods outside of the house, hiding in a log as soon as I found one. The creature was soon right outside of the log, howling in blood thirst.


An agonized scream, like that of an old woman’s, came from the house. The creature perked up and ran back into the manor, eager to torture its life trapped victim once more.


It was a while until I finally worked up the courage to escape from the log and run towards the nearest deputy’s office. Of course, no one believed my story, no one cared.


No one believes in monsters anyway. No one would care. NO ONE WOULD CARE UNTIL IT IMPACTS THEM.


This… this creature, which was named after I thought enough about the experience to give it one, feasts relentlessly upon human flesh in the Southeastern United States. It avoids the vital organs, keeping the victim alive so that it can sadistically hear their screams in agony before they eventually die of blood loss. The creature marks the houses it has killed in by scratching on its mirrors. There have been numerous related cases other than the one I have investigated, all resulting in the death of the victim.


Then again, that darned screaming. Every night it comes to haunt me. Every day it fills my mind. I awoke one night, realizing that I forgot to brush my teeth. I looked at the mirror, and saw three long, diagonal scratch marks etched on it. I screamed, turned away, and haven’t looked again at a mirror since. Every time I think of the monster my ears bleed. The claws soaked in blood, yet human like. The eyes jet black and yet red in the center.


It is “ The Scratcher”.