Previously: “Future Tech.”
This week, a doozy of a creepypasta: “The Girl In 402,” in which conversations held with a neighbor on the other side of an apartment wall become a lifeline — and also a death knell. This one starts out looking a bit like a ghost story, and although that’s… not entirely wrong, it’s also much, much more.
I do love a genre-based magic trick, and this story pulls it off with aplomb.
Written by Rain Maker Wind Waker, who published it at the Creepypasta Wiki in December of 2024, “The Girl In 402” perfectly captures what it’s like to live a particular kind of life at particular point in time — and the particular brand of loneliness that goes along with it all. Sometimes, the smallest moments of connection are all it takes to make it a little bit easier to bear… but when those moments disappear, it all comes crashing back down, leaving you crushed beneath it.
[Like what you read? Check out Dangerous Games To Play In The Dark, available from Chronicle Books now!]
To be perfectly honest, I’m not really sure I’d actually call this one a short story; at about 15,000 words, it’s squarely within novelette territory, edging towards the land of the novella. But it’s well worth your time — a tale that’s resonant for a variety of reasons, especially if you’ve ever lived this kind of life yourself. (CW for brief implication of su*c*dal ideation within the last lines.)
Find an excerpt below, and read “The Girl In 402” in its entirety at the Creepypasta Wiki.
***
I knew one day I would have to tell this story. It took me a year to finally sit down and do it. I’ve been told that doing this could help me move on, but that’s not what this is for. I don’t expect to move on. The girl in 402 will always be with me. I’m telling this story, simply, because I have to.
I lived there for two years. It was a tiny little unit, tucked away on the very right of the fourth floor. Bachelor is almost generous. It was the kind of dingy place that never looks bright no matter how many lights you have on, but I liked it. I’m good with a small space, I enjoy not having that much to take care of. I could do without the bug problems, the leaks, the electrical problems, and the rotten smells that just sort of happen, but it is what it is.
There was a level of comfort, as well, to living on the fourth floor. Nobody robs a random fourth floor apartment unit. Nobody can peek into your window. It’s unlikely to get shot at… yeah, I lived in one of those kinds of cities. You didn’t walk around at night if you could help it. You just didn’t.
I got accustomed to noise there. The cars, the sirens, the dogs barking, the shouting, the occasional echoing pop of a gunshot. It all becomes a whirling auditory soup. I learned to tune it out fairly quickly. In fact, I learned to tune out a lot of things. …
… But tonight, after about two minutes, I heard a noise. This noise stood out from all the outdoor soup because it sounded a lot closer, and it sounded like a voice.
***
Follow The Ghost In My Machine on Bluesky @GhostMachine13.bsky.social, Twitter @GhostMachine13, and Facebook @TheGhostInMyMachine. And for more games, don’t forget to check out Dangerous Games To Play In The Dark, available now from Chronicle Books!
[Photo via Tama66/Pixabay]
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