Creepy Pasta 40 - Short Story 11

What is up my lovely readers.
I am so sorry for being missing for so long but I am back!

Wasn't that a lovely start.

Let us get started, shall me.

So, as per usual, here is the last short story Short Story 10

And here are the rest. Short Story 9, Short Story 8, Short Story 7, Short Story 6, Short Story 5, 

Short Story 4, Short Story 3, Short Story 2 and Short Story 1.

Do start from the first one if you are new.

Well, the last one was pretty simple.

The answer, the guy is dead and she killed him.

So, for those of you who got it,

Now, for a new and long awaited story.

Short Story 11.

An artist moved to the rural countryside where his nearest neighbors are miles away and the silence is deafening. Where the road stretches for miles and miles and hardly any cars drive by.

He had an idea for a new project and the theme for this new project was "seclusion". 

No phones, no internet, no neighbors. 

All alone. 

He decided to record everything on an old tape recorder he has. It was old and worn out but the sounds it picked up are unique and distorts everything to a vintage feel.

So he began, recording as he goes about his daily life. Painting, eating, cleaning, gardening and even sleeping. As days went by, so did his sanity. He slowly felt the emptiness of being alone but that didn't deter him. His inspiration was free flowing and it distracted him from the loneliness.

When night comes and as he lies in bed, it hits him, hard. He tosses and turns, his lonely mind thinking.

The silence eating into his brain. This is driving him crazy.

2 weeks had gone by. He felt that it was long enough and he started to listen to the tapes. Tape by tape went by. Sounds of him working, eating, cleaning and even talking to himself. Soon, the recordings were of him sleeping and it was nothing but silence. 

Half way through, there was a sound. Faint but clear. A light click with a slight scratch. Must be a glitch in the tape, he thought. As he continued listening to the tapes, he noticed something. Every night, that glitch would happen, always half way through the night.

Getting out of bed, he loaded in a new tape and hit record. Opening the door, he walked out and slipped, dropping his recorder. Picking it up, he hit play to check if it was broken and he heard it.

Loud and clear, the click and slight scratching.