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The Backpacker Creepypasta

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THE BACKPACKER

I’m going to start out by being honest: I don’t really care if you guys believe me or not, but I want to tell my story so that those out there who do believe me will at least know what has happened to me. It’s too strange of an occurrence for me to keep to myself. So, I guess I should start at the beginning.

I live in a suburban town on the east coast. Not a big city but certainly not a small town. One could pass by someone on the street and never see them again till some years later, if ever. However there was one strange man who didn’t seem to comply with this rule. I first met him while shopping at our local mall. I had just gone there to browse some CDs and maybe get a quick bite to eat, but I was running out of time because the mall was going to close soon. I was used to seeing large shopping centers deserted since I used to work at an outlet mall, so this normally wouldn’t bother me in the least. However, today felt a little different.

I was in a small store, browsing their goods alone. Usually by that time, especially on a weekday like that day, the mall was a ghost town. That day was no exception. The manager seemed to have gone in the back room and I was the only one in the storefront. At least that’s what I thought. I could have sworn I hadn’t heard anyone come in, but sure enough a voice behind me said in an eerily soft voice, “Hello, there.”

I turned around and then I saw him. He was a tall, gaunt man with long arms and legs, a protruding brow and a piercing gaze. He wore an eerie grin on his face which showed off two crooked teeth on the side of his mouth. His eyes were golden and beady and his face bore a few wrinkles, despite the fact that the man seemed to be young. He was wearing a purple track jacket with a white shirt underneath and a pair of tan cargo shorts. He wore an orange baseball cap over his buzz-cut hair which cast a shadow over his face. The oddest thing about this man’s appearance was the fact that he wore a large backpack over his shoulder, as if he were about to go on a long camping trip. That would be normal if we met on a nature trail, not at a Sam Goody. The backpack was so big and heavy that he was perpetually hunched over, almost as if he was a hunchback. His overall appearance struck me as odd and he seemed very out of place. I found the whole situation a bit unsettling.

I didn’t exactly know how to respond, so I just uttered a reply: “Hello.”

He kept grinning at me as he said, “I see you like Slipknot.”

I hadn’t even noticed I had a Slipknot CD in my hand.

“Oh, uh,” I stammered, “Yeah, they’re pretty good.”

“I like Slipknot.” The man, who for ease of reference I will dub The Backpacker, said.

I stared at the Backpacker, trying to judge if he had some sort of mental illness or not, and was very careful not to say anything to upset him. Before I was able to say anything, however, he simply replied,

“I’ll be seeing you another day.”

And then he walked away. I had no idea what to make of the encounter, but as odd as his final words were, I was fairly confident I never would see that man again. A few moments after he left the store, I put down the CD and decided to just leave. However, as I walked into the main hallway of the mall I noticed the man standing across the way, staring at me.

He said to me, “Hello, again, friend.”

Even though I knew this guy was a creeper to the the nth degree, I still thought he was nothing more than a socially awkward man who just happened to be at the mall at the same time as me.
I forced a smile to return his and then took my leave. Needless to say I was driving away a little faster than usual.

Time passed and I didn’t think about that man again. Despite being a screwball, he quickly faded away into the recesses of my memory. That memory was quickly refreshed, however, the next time I went to the mall. I was at the mall late again (I probably should have mentioned I usually go after I get out of work at 9PM) when I saw the Backpacker again. I turned a corner, exiting from the Friendly’s, only to be greeted by the Backpacker standing at the other end of the mall’s main corridor, staring at me. Completely still. As if he was waiting for me. I would be lying if I didn’t say that he made me nervous, but I was parked on that side of the mall and I wasn’t going to walk outside in the cold because of this guy. I decided to try to just walk right passed him to the parking lot. While I was walking towards him, he grinned at me. That same, toothy grin.

It wasn’t till I was much closer that I noticed he was wearing the exact same clothes as last time. He was still wearing that over-sized backpack as well.

“I told you.” The Backpacker said to me.

“Excuse me?” I replied, a little startled.

“I told you we’d meet again. And here we are.” he said.

“Fantastic.” I said, getting a little tired of this weirdo’s games.

I started walking away when he said something that made me stop in my tracks. It was so odd.

“I can see.” He mumbled.

I turned around and looked at him.

“I can see.” He repeated, “And you will see. One day. One day, you will see as well.”

His eyes were squinting at me, and I was amazed he could even see anything through those slits. Yet, even when his speech was at its most solemn, he retained the same toothy smile.

“But I can see.” I replied, “My eyes work fine.”

Granted, I have to wear glasses but that’s besides the point.

“One day you will.” The Backpacker responded. He then walked away.

I didn’t see him again for months. I was hoping that he was gone for good. Unlike after my first encounter with him, he stayed in my mind long afterward. I even saw him in my dreams. That summer, I decided to join some of my friends and go to the county fair. There were rides and lots of food, so I was fairly excited to go. I thought that it would help ease my stress.

I was with a group of friends, enjoying some nice county fair fare, when I spotted him again. He was not looking at me, though. His attention seemed to be directed off in the distance, towards the thick forest that surrounded the fair. He walked through crowds of people, oblivious to their presence. He looked like he was in a daze as we waded through the sea of people. His awkward gait due to his heavy sack caught the attention of some people who stared at him. I remember a group of teenage girls giggled at his antics. However, I could sense his behavior was the effect of something serious. I started to panic.

“Holy shit! That’s the guy!” I cried out to my friends.

They wondered what the hell I was talking about and I explained how this man behaved and what he had said to me before. It was starting to feel as though he was stalking me. Or at least there was a reason he was at the fair besides to go on rides and eat cotton candy. And this reason involved me. I began to nervously sweat and I could feel my heart rate climbing. For the next few hours I tried to ignore him and enjoy myself but eventually I couldn’t take the anxiety any more. I would see him at the edge of the fairgrounds, gazing into the dark abyss of the forest and shivers would go down my spine. I finally got the balls to force myself to confront the Backpacker. I left my friends for a few minutes, telling them I had to use the port-a-johns located near the exit. Instead I cautiously approached the Backpacker. His back was still facing me as he looked into the woods.

“Hello, again, friend.” the Backpacker said without moving his head an inch.

I was shocked to hear him say that, knowing he was talking to me. He knew it was me. I was so tempted to ask him how he knew, but by that point I had already figured out this guy was by no means normal. He had an aura of dread around him that I had never felt from any other human being. I walked up beside him and looked at his face. His eyes were still locked on the treeline.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“Because you are.” He responded.

By this point I thought for sure he must be a stalker.

“Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you want but I just want you to leave me alone!” I began to lose my temper, “Stop following me! You creep me the fuck out and I don’t want to have to call the cops on you, so please just leave me be and no one will have to get involved, alright?!”

After I stopped yelling there was a period of silence. His eyes never left the forest.

“You already are involved.” the Backpacker said, “You. And I.”

He stood completely still and silent.

“They’re watching us, you know.” he said quietly.

“What?” I said, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“They’re watching us right now.” He said with a big smile. He then chuckled, “We can’t see them, but they always see us.”

I could hear my friends in the distance. I tried to convince myself that this man was a raving lunatic so

I could return to my friends with a clear conscience; that I didn’t need to stay with him any longer. But now I regret that. I regret not staying with him, asking him what he meant by all that. But at the time anything to get me away from that nutcase seemed like a godsend. I left him there, standing alone by the edge of the fair, and I returned to my friends.

All that happened last summer. It was a very long time since I’d seen him again. Like last time, I hoped that this was over with and we would never cross paths again. No matter how ominous the experience, time let me desensitize myself to the situation until the Backpacker was nothing more than a funny story to tell my buddies.

But, as you may have been able to tell by the pattern in my writing, he came back.

I was sitting in my car in an empty parking lot. I was the last person to leave work and the whole place was completely deserted. Literally not a soul around. I usually didn’t agree to lock up because of the fact that the loneliness of an empty lot gives me the creeps. But that night I agreed because I was going to get a raise the next week and I didn’t want to do anything to fuck that up. When I was fiddling with my keys, trying to find the right one for my car door, I heard that same soft voice I had hear over a year ago behind me.

“Hello, there.”

I quickly spun around. What I saw shocked me. The Backpacker’s usually small, squinty, beady eyes were wide open. They were staring right at me. I was too in shock to say anything. But i don’t think he wanted me to. He was still smiling. He never stopped smiling. Oh, how I wanted to punch that fucking grin off his face. But something prevented me from doing it. I felt fear when I looked in his eyes. I felt dread, pain, disgust, anguish. My heartbeat went up and I started sweating profusely. I was basically having a panic attack.

“Friend,” he started, “It’s now time that you see.”

He reached back into his knapsack and shoved his hand in one of its pockets. He pulled out a small piece of paper. It was crumpled and folded into a small square. He looked over his shoulder. He looked to his left. And then his right.

He placed the piece of paper in my palm.

And as quickly as the Backpacker came, he was gone again.

Now the paper that he gave me is very, very odd and unsettling to say the least. It scares me. As much as I try to convince myself this is just a prank, I find that harder and harder to believe. What is drawn on this piece of paper seems to be, or at least to me it looks like, a person’s head in a burlap sack. It seems like they are bleeding underneath and that blood is seeping out of the mask. Along with this image are the words, “They are watching us now.” The letters themselves look like they have tree branches coming out of them.

Upon receiving this note I immediately thought back to the night at the fair. There was some connection.

I flipped over the paper. Written on it was “To those who see.” Now I’m not sure if it’s a continuation of the phrase on the front “They are watching us now... to those who see.” Or if this is saying who the letter is going to. i.e.: “To: Those Who See”. Either way, it seems someone is watching me. And it seems as though now the Backpacker, no matter how creepy he may be, was actually trying to help me realize this.

I did a google search of “They are watching us now” and “To those who see”. The most relevant thing I could come up with is a youtube video called “we are watching.wmv”, which is very cryptic and disturbing in nature and has the tags “to those who see.” I am certain this is what the Backpacker wanted me to see. I don’t want to describe the video, it’s giving me chills just thinking about it. You can just watch it on youtube. The link is HERE

Apparently the video was just posted today by someone called “WeWhoWatchYouSee”. I don’t know what this all means but I am scared out of my fucking mind. If anyone knows anything about this at all, please tell me. I am willing to do whatever it takes to get the Backpacker to stop following me and to just let my life go back to normal.

If that video has anything to do with whoever or whatever the Backpacker was talking about, I think I’m going to shit myself.
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