Creepypasta Stories

Grubby The Taker

By: unknown writer

The following dialog was found written on a scrap of paper in the cell of a now missing John Doe.

"Some times things go missing, It happens to everyone. For my family it was more than just that. At first it didn't seem like much. A few missing articles of clothing, my wife's earrings and some silverware. Then it started to change and things weren't just going missing anymore. Chairs would be moved to the opposite side of the room. items that didn't belong to us would replace our missing objects.

It continued for weeks before stopping abruptly, and for some time it never occurred again... Until the day the dog went missing. We kept him inside and locked the doors at night after we let him out for a few minutes before bed. One day we woke up and he was just gone. No open or unlocked doors, and his kennel was unopened. We posted missing signs all over the neighborhood, thinking he had just run off. For months we never gave it much more thought then that.

That's around that same time my daughter went missing. No open windows or doors, just like the dog, she was gone without a trace. We kept telling everyone we had no clue what happened to her... No one believed us.

I tried to stay strong, but my wife fell apart at the seams. Most days she didn't even get out of bed. Weeks went by without word of our daughters whereabouts, I was beginning to fear the worst. We had been hearing about people going missing in the same manner as our daughter. It was all over the news and in the papers. I drew a conclusion that my daughter was connected with these vanishings... that's when I started seeing him.

It was only ever glimpses through reflections. Mostly mirrors, but in glasses and reflective surfaces as well. When I told my wife, she called me crazy. She said that the loss of our daughter was hitting us both hard. She screamed and cried... She began blaming me.

One day we fought worse than we ever had before. The house was unkempt and the last thing I said to my wife before I stormed out the door was that I wished she was the one who had disappeared.

I came home later that day, and no matter how much I looked... my wife was nowhere to be found. Just like the dog, just like my daughter, no open windows and no open doors. Not a single trace to be found.

Before they locked me up I continued to catch glimpses of him behind me. So strange that I only ever caught them in reflections. When I would turn to face him, I would find I was alone. I simply thought I was going crazy... until he gave me his name. He didn't speak it, I don't think he talks or makes any noise at all. I awoke one morning in pain and found it scratched into my chest. Such an odd name... Grubby. How can a name like that bring so much fear to my entire being?

I showed the investigators my wounds when they took me in, but they just wrote it off as self mutilation. It's like he wants to be known but only as a phantom. I still can't shake the feeling that he is behind me. There are no reflective surfaces in my cell, so I can't confirm it, but I know he's there.

I am writing this in the dark. My cell is locked, there are no windows... and I think he's going to take me."

The police found this letter in an empty cell where a father had been held to await questioning on the disappearance of his wife and daughter. There were no signs of a struggle. The cell was locked tight and there was no possible escape without being let out by security. He was simply gone without a trace. Further investigation is pending on his, and his families, disappearance.