Dear Creepypasta [#Wattys2016]

New Boyfriend

A few months ago, I moved from America to Europe for a new job. After a few weeks of being here, I decided to call it quits with my boyfriend back home, Max. The truth is that only seeing him on Skype a few hours a week made me realize that we weren't all that compatible. Admittedly, I was also being selfish. I wanted a fresh start and that meant leaving Max behind.

That doesn't mean I wasn't still upset about the break-up. I moped for a week before a girlfriend of mine, Alina, decided to drag me out in an effort to lift the dark cloud looming over me. Alina's place is close to a street that is notorious in my city for nightlife which made it the perfect launch point for our escapades. That Friday we polished off two bottles of wine between the two of us at her flat before Alina brought out the Jägermeister. Needless to say, by the time we reached the club we were both totally smashed. We met up with two other friends, Lexie and Jen, who were both sober and slightly horrified at the state of us. I vaguely remember Alina complaining about waiting in line (as she "never has to") before she marched up to the front and got us all in somehow. At that point, I face-planted on my way to the dance floor, threw off my skyscraper heels, and slammed down a few more shots. The rest of the night is a total mystery.

When I woke up around noon the next morning to a pounding headache, passed out on Alina's love seat, I checked my phone to see what time it was. I had several messages—mostly friends responding in good humor to my drunk texting—but one was from a number I didn't know. It simply read:

"Hey, had a good time with you last night! Would you like to go to [Festival name] with me today? It's close to where you live in [my neighborhood] . Right by the lake :)"

I had no clue who it could be, but didn't want to admit that. WhatsApp had blessedly provided me with a name—Martin—but that's all I knew. So, naturally, I texted Lexie and Jen about who would be messaging me as Alina was still locked away in her room recovering.

"I bet it's the guy from the club!", Lexie's text read. Helpful.

"You were dancing with him all night! I say go for it :D <3", responded Jen.

What was the worst that could happen, right? Maybe this guy would be the fresh start I needed. Plus, we would be meeting at a festival with lots of people around. I responded back with a short text, confirming that I would go to the festival with him and we set up a time and place to meet—3:00 by the train station near my building. It gave me just enough time to run back to my apartment, shower, and change.

At 3:00 on the dot, I arrived at the train station and spotted the side profile of a tall, handsome blonde guy waiting by a timetable poster. I hoped that was Martin, but I couldn't be sure so I debated whether or not to approach him. Luckily, he turned around fully and sent a glittering white smile at me before making his way over and enveloping me in his arms.

"I'm glad you made it," he said, smile still lighting up his baby blues.

"Definitely! I had fun last night, by the way," I lied. I mean I probably had fun and this guy was really, really attractive. I congratulated drunken me on her good taste.

He gave a little chuckle. "Yeah, me too. You're a good dancer," his eyes sort of sparkled, like he was aware of some inside joke.

The conversation continued like that with me shamelessly flirting while we walked the short distance to the lake. Martin continued to keep a respectable distance, but at the same time would gently nudge my shoulder jokingly every now and then. After finding out that the festival activities wouldn't begin until 5:00, we decided to get some coffee and wait it out. We ended up talking for hours. It had been a very long time since I felt so connected to another person. Martin was also a scientist, working in a similar field as me. He, too, enjoyed contemporary art and philosophy and blues music. His favorite movie was the same as mine—Pan's Labyrinth—and he was around the same age. He played the church organ and showed me some of his (really amazing) artwork. In nearly every way I could tell, we were compatible and the conversation flowed seamlessly. It had only been a few hours, but he honestly seemed pretty perfect.

"So, have you gotten to talk to Beth yet?", he asked. Beth is my very best friend in the world. I hadn't talked to her in several days since she was still in the U.S. and we were now 8 hours apart in time zones. I was surprised he knew about her.

Reflecting on it, he knew a lot of details about my life. However, I am an overly friendly drunk and have no concept of 'stranger danger' when in that mindset. It hadn't struck me as odd that Martin would know where I lived as I figured I likely told him the night before. In fact, I liked that he asked me about Beth and whether or not I'd been able to Skype with my parents recently to say hello to my dog I had to leave behind in the States. He even gave me the name of a shipping company to have my winter clothes sent over as I was still without my coats, boots, and ski gear. I just remember thinking how thoughtful he was for remembering all these little details I was obviously drunkenly babbling about to him.

We had at one point made our way to the festival and were watching a street magician perform some tricks.

"I wonder how he's doing that?", I asked watching the magician make a man's glasses appear and disappear.

"There's always a trick," Martin stated, eyes again looking at me with that strange gleam. "Would you like to get some food?"

The date continued on with us watching various street performers and artists and eating some really terrible Thai food. The sun was just setting over the lake and Martin and I were having ice cream, sitting by the water talking and listening to a German folk band. Then something weird happened. I went to glance at Martin and, for just a split second, he didn't look real. It was as though his body shifted somehow, bending with the light and blurring out the hard edges like a computer glitch. It was so fast, I assumed it was something wrong with my eyes—a spasm or something.

"Are you okay?" I heard him ask.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," I responded, breaking eye contact with his form and shaking my head. I suddenly felt just a little bit dizzy.

"Okay. You just spaced out there for a minute," he said, sending me a charming smile. In my mind I figured that's what it was—I'd just checked out for a moment. I noticed that his hands were trembling a little bit. Honestly, I thought it was first-date nerves or the light chill that was being carried through on the Alpine air.

Nothing else strange happened on our date. In fact, the rest of the date was wonderful and perfect in every way and we ended up staying out later than I intended. I realized that I had spent 9+ hours with this guy, but it seemed to go so quickly. Martin then walked me back to the train station and gave me a hug goodnight while I reassured him that my building really was a close walk up the hill and I'd be fine. I was riding high after the date, reflecting on how amazing it was. After I got back to my apartment, a message was already waiting on me.

"Had a great night tonight! Let's do it again soon", his message read.

"Of course! I'd love that :)", I'd responded

"Great! I will text you soon to set something up. Goodnight!"

It wasn't a good night, though. I had a nightmare about Max. The thing is, I haven't had a dream since I was a kid and I had never had a nightmare. I mean, I'm sure I have them, but I never remember them. Ever. But I woke up at 3:00 A.M. that night completely disturbed by what had occurred in my mind. In the dream, Max had come to visit me in an attempt to patch things up between us, but instead I'd lured him into an abandoned building and stabbed him repeatedly. He had tried to talk to me--to scream--but in the dream all I saw was his gaping mouth. It was as though his voice had been muted. In a final act, I'd sliced the blade I was holding across his throat, the blood spraying across the white dress I was wearing. The knife I'd used had the longest blade I'd ever seen, easily the length of my forearm, and was wickedly curved with large serrations down the blade. On the bone handle, there was a set of numbers painted in black. I only noticed it because, after killing him, I turned the blade on myself and slammed it into my own stomach before myself, Max, and the building erupted in a blaze. It was the first nightmare I'd ever had, but it wouldn't be the last.

Disturbed, I glanced at my phone. I felt this compulsion to check it. I had a single message from Martin, time stamped at 3:01 A.M.

"Still asleep?"

It didn't strike me as odd then in my freaked-out, sleep-deprived mind, but the timing was strange. To say the least. I didn't respond to the message since I went back to sleep nearly immediately. After that nightmare, though, things began to get even weirder.