mrbombasticsideeye

[mrbombasticsideeye]

Abandoned.exe (Pou creepypasta)

When I was younger, I loved that silly little game Pou. You know the one — that brown blob alien-thing you fed, bathed, played minigames with. It was like a simpler Tamagotchi for the smartphone age.

Last week, I felt nostalgic and wanted to revisit it. I couldn’t find the original on the Play Store anymore. I figured it had been taken down. So I looked online — maybe an APK file, maybe someone still archived it. That’s when I found something... different.

It was on a shady-looking website with a black background and red pixel text that just said:

"Do you remember your Pou? He remembers you.''

There was one download link: pou.exe. Strange — not a mobile file, but a Windows executable.

I hesitated, but curiosity got the best of me. I downloaded it.

When I launched the game, it looked... off. There was no intro screen, no happy music. It booted straight into a dimly-lit room — Pou’s room — but darker, like the colors had been drained. Pou sat in the middle, eyes wide open, unblinking. His normally cute smile was stretched unnaturally wide, almost... split.

There were no menus. No buttons. Just him, staring at me.

Then the screen flashed. Just for a second. I thought I saw something — a real human eye replacing one of his cartoon ones.

A text box appeared at the bottom.

“Why did you leave me?”

I didn’t type anything, but the game responded anyway.

“You forgot to feed me. You let me rot in the dark. I was alone.”

My heart pounded. This had to be some kind of mod. A sick joke.

The screen flickered again. The room changed. It looked like a child's room now — but decayed. Wallpaper peeled off, toys scattered and broken. A crib in the corner was overturned. On the walls were handprints. Brown ones. The same color as Pou.

The background music began to distort — warped lullabies, played backward.

Pou — or whatever it was now — slowly began to morph. Its eyes sunk in. Its body lost the soft cartoonish look, becoming slimy, misshapen, twitching.

“I made a game. Just for you. Want to play?”

The screen changed to a minigame — but it was different. It was called "Feed Me."

You had to drag food into Pou’s mouth, but every item was wrong. Rusty nails. Dead insects. Teeth. Pou opened its mouth, revealing rows of sharp, human teeth, and let out a gurgling sound each time it ate.

The game forced me to keep going.

Eventually, I tried to close the window. It wouldn’t shut. Alt+F4 didn’t work. Ctrl+Alt+Del wouldn’t bring up Task Manager.

Then it started accessing my webcam.

A small window popped up, showing my face. Behind me — I swear to God — I saw something brown, amorphous, shifting.

I turned around. Nothing there.

When I turned back to the screen, Pou was right up against the glass, his face filling it, his expression blank now.

“Don’t ever abandon me again.”

The game closed itself.

I checked my desktop. All my files were gone. Replaced with duplicates of the pou.exe file. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Each one with a different face for the icon — twisted, grotesque versions of Pou. Crying. Screaming. Bleeding.

I tried deleting them, but each time I did, my speakers emitted a horrible static screech, followed by a whisper:

“We’re not done.”

I had to wipe the whole drive.

But even now... sometimes, late at night, my computer boots up by itself. Just a black screen with two eyes watching.

I hear the old, muffled Pou music. Slowed down. Reversed.

Sometimes I dream of him, too.

He’s still hungry.