Creepypastas

Jacob's Dirt

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon when the sobbing echoed through the apartment complex. Everyone rushed outside to find Jacob, kneeling in front of the leafless birch tree, crying. They stared in awe, unsure of what to do. After all, no one knew anything about him. The tenants stood shocked and confused as Jacob's fingers dug into the soil at the base of the tree – scooping handfuls of dirt into his pockets. He continued until his pockets were full, then the crying ceased, just like that. The silence was so unnerving that some backed into their doorways, as if taking precautionary measure for an impending calamity.

Dirt spilled from Jacob's pockets with each step as he slowly made his way back to his apartment. His movements were meticulous and deliberate, he seemed to savor each step like a mouthful of delicious food. Step after step his neighbors watched with anticipation, not sure of what to expect, but sure something would happen – Nothing did.

This would be the last time anyone saw Jacob.

Jacob was a strange old man. He would leave his apartment once a day for exactly an hour and stand in the courtyard talking to the ground near that birch tree. No one really paid him much attention due to his age. An old man enjoying a quiet moment outside was really no cause for concern. He never spoke to anyone directly, and the conversations he had with the dirt were an incoherent string of babble. Everyone just assumed he was senile, or suffering from any number of age related mental disorders.

His eyes were squinted and from a distance it looked as if he had no eyes at all, just black behind the lids. That gave the kids plenty of reason to avoid him. They would try to scare each other and tell stories of how he was really a ghost and how they had seen him perform numerous supernatural feats, even though none of them really had. The kids often played doorbell ditch and Jacob's door was a favorite target- even though he never answered.

Nothing was known about Jacob, but rumors and gossip surrounded his origins. The strangest part about him was he only left for that hour. He would never leave the apartment grounds, not even for food, or personal items. His rent showed up in the drop box, on time, and other than being mysterious, he was honestly no trouble to anyone.

No one had ever held a conversation with him in all of the years he had lived there. Many residents tried, but he would just respond with, "Don't get dirty", and a closed mouth smile. After a while, everyone collectively assumed he would be ok and just wanted to be left alone.

The days turned into a week and no one had seen Jacob. Residents began to assume the worst. He was old after all, and him dying wouldn't be a big surprise, but what happened that Sunday still resonated throughout the minds of all in attendance.

After a week, William and Carter- the Landlord and Janitor, decided to check in on the old man.

They approached Jacob's door cautiously, as if he had been previously threatening. They didn't know why they were nervous – they had no reason to be. They tried, but couldn't shake the feeling that something was not right. They stood in front of his door, hesitant, both unsure of what to do next. Carter banged heavily on the door – three times. They waited, but nothing happened.

Carter banged again, and William yelled out, "Hey Jacob, you alright?"

Silence filled the air. Carter cocked his head to the side, listening for any noise inside.

"Anything?" William asked. Carter shook his head.

William removed a ring of keys from his pocket and inserted one into Jacobs door. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, but to his surprise, it didn't budge. He pushed again, leaning his shoulder against the door. The door slowly slid open as William grunted and strained. He continued to push until it was open enough to enter.