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oldwritingm · 11 months ago

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Wrote this as a sort-of-sequel to my "How You Met" headcanons! :]

Word count: 1k

Creepypasta/MH - What Should I Draw? ("Ticci" Toby)

You still thought about him sometimes. That boy; the one you sat next to way back in high school. When your mind returned to those little compartments in your memories, the ones filled with noisy hallways and cardboard pizza and hours spent dozing while teachers droned on, there you’d find glimpses of Tobias Rogers.

You remembered the day he first spoke to you, that stupid drawing you made at his request. He had smiled when you showed it to him. It was the most genuine smile you’d seen on any of your peers. Ever. It had struck you.

You weren’t sure how you felt about him. On the one hand, he was authentic; he was unapologetically him. Sarcastic, crass, at times even mean, but real. That quality had always enchanted you. You looked forward to your interactions. But on the other hand, those interactions were scarce. You weren’t close. Your memories of him were minimal in comparison to those of your other friends, or even your teachers. Yet those few memories you did have were enrapturing.

You didn’t think of him all that often, really. Sometimes you’d go months without him crossing your mind. But when you did think of him, it would immobilize you as you slipped into deep thought, gazing blankly as you pondered the curious boy from your past.

When you ventured on these musings, you always landed at the same place: what became of him. You couldn’t decide if you were surprised or not. Why shouldn’t he become a murderer? He was bullied, his home life wasn’t all that great (from rumors you heard; Toby never spoke of his family to you), and he always did seem a little… unstable. But then, there was that smile. That peculiar light that shone when you spoke to him. The way he’d giggle at your jokes and silly drawings.

But that didn’t change what happened. He became what he became, regardless of what you thought. Regardless of your memories, which were small and scattered like dandelions on a lawn.

But you knew you’d never see him again—so did it really even matter?

It was an impulse. Most things he did these days were impulsive, so that really shouldn’t have been a surprise. It was an impulse that got him rummaging through old boxes in the first place. When he found that wrinkled piece of notebook paper… he decided he needed to go. It couldn’t wait.

And now he found himself perched on your windowsill, easing your window open silently and creeping inside. He locked the door first. Then he made his way to your bedside, letting his hatchet slide towards the ground as he loosened his grip. He let it drop to the floor.

You woke up with a start. After blinking sleepily at the ceiling a few times, your eyes flicked over to the dark figure beside your bed.

You inhaled sharply, flying into a sitting position and backing up against the wall. You opened your mouth to scream, but the man lunged at you. You ducked, rolling off your mattress onto the floor. You saw a hatchet—dirty with something brownish that certainly wasn’t rust—on the ground a few inches from your face. You wanted to scream, but your throat had tightened with fear.

You scrambled to your feet, stumbling towards your door. You slipped and landed harshly against the wall, your shoulder slamming into the hard surface before you slumped down to the floor.

“Y/n!”

You froze. Blinked a few times at the floor. Then you looked up at the intruder, who was standing awkwardly with one knee still on your bed. He was looking at you through yellow goggles. The rest of his face was covered with a mask. There was nothing to recognize; and yet that muffled voice had seemed… familiar.

He jammed his hand into his pocket, as if suddenly remembering something. You tensed, flinching when he threw something small and white at you.

You yelped when it hit you, but you didn’t need to; you hardly even felt it. When you opened your eyes again you saw a crumpled piece of paper in your lap.

You straightened it out, breathing heavily, sending fearful glances at the stranger five feet away.

Your breathing stopped when you saw what was on the page.

“Toby,” you whispered, looking up once more, this time with whimsy. There was still fear tensing your limbs, but now there was an entire ocean of feelings churning inside you, each fighting for dominance: curiosity, enchantment, excitement, anxiety, and a hundred other things that didn’t have names.

The man removed his goggles and mask with excitement, his shaggy locks getting pulled back for a moment with the motion. You saw his face—but you couldn’t believe what you saw.

You found yourself standing up slowly, making your way over to him. Was it a stupid idea? Probably. But he was smiling that smile, the one that had haunted you for years. It was like a fishing lure twinkling in the sunlight, and you were a foolish bass in the pond.

He didn’t move. He let you bring your hands up to his face. Your fingers hovered over the scars on his cheeks, and you felt nauseous the closer you got.

You suddenly retracted your hands, taking a step back. “What are you doing here?” Your eyes drifted to the hatchet on the floor.

“I wanted to see you again.”

“Why?”

He shrugged.

There was silence. Your heart began to hammer in your ears, and you kept looking at the hatchet.

Toby eventually noticed this pattern, and with an exasperated sigh he kicked the weapon across the floor. “I didn’t come here to kill you.”

“Then why did you come?”

He shrugged again, a little shyly this time. “I dunno. Maybe… you could draw something for me again?”

You let out a breath. Was it a sigh of relief? Was it a huff of breathless enchantment? Was it a pant of excitement?

You nodded slowly, sinking to the floor to pick up the piece of paper. You turned it to the blank side, finding a pen on your nightstand.

Toby plopped down next to you. He was sitting to your right, just as he had sat back in high school.

You couldn’t help the mischievous smile—the same one you’d given him all those years ago—which came to your lips as you asked:

“What should I draw?”

Thanks so much for reading! Take care my lovelies <33

(divider by saradika)

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #tobias rogers #tobias rogers x reader

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cryptomiracle · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

content: creepypastas with a "crazy" s/o

Genre: one shot, x reader, obsessive reader

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••••••••••••••

WARNINGS!!

Blood

Obsession

Kidnapping

Toxic "relationships"

Swearing

Starvation

Mentions of murder

Mentions of dismemberment

A gun

This will be kinda like a mini series, feel free to request any characters! (I will only be doing one creepypasta at a time, so I don't overdo myself lol)

••••••••••••••

ngl, I wanted this to kinda give off 2014 creepypasta fanfic vibes, hence the name 😭

Ticci toby:

Name: tobias erin rogers

Age: 20

Height: 5'11-6'0

Known information: toby is a sadistic serial killer, he often toys with his victims before killing them, he especially likes to hold his victims captive to torture them, or play mind games with them. He'll keep them for months at a time, only killing them once he gets bored, or tired of taking care of them.

The more he enjoys them, or the more entertaining he finds them, the longer he keeps them alive.

Unless of course he's ordered to kill them.

He often holds more than one person, sometimes kidnapping up to 3 people at a time.

He greatly enjoys, giving his victims "Stockholm syndrome" (Stockholm syndrome is a condition in which hostages develop a psychological bond with their captors) and in this case, that just so happens to be you.

about 8-9 months ago you were hiking in the woods, you went a little too deep in the woods, and saw something you weren't supposed to.. (toby burying a dismembered corpse)

you tried to run, and call for help, you really did.

But he was faster, his strength was almost inhuman, and he knew the woods better than you could ever hope to know.

Unfortunately, he eventually caught you. He knocked you out, and brought you back to his house in the woods, that was basically falling in on itself. hes always liked to take things slow, so he took you to his basement, and chained you to the wall by your ankle, the basement is dimly lit, it has nothing in it but a few shelves, a leaky pipe, and a dirty, blood stained, mattress on the floor.

after a month of only going down there to feed you (he only fed you enough to keep you alive) he eventually started to strike up conversations with you.

He'd start little by little, asking you if you needed anything (other than freedom), to bringing you things like a blanket, or different clothes. Maybe even giving you a little more food than usual..

By the 3rd month he'd start going down there more often, what he does down there depends on how you act.

Let's say to try to escape one too many times, or get too personal when you curse at him (like mentioning his mother)

he'll go down there just to break your spirit.

He'd do it over the course of a few months, just to make sure it really sticks with you.

When he first took you, he put you in that basement with practically nothing, right?

Well, if you act in a way that's not to his liking (rude, crying 24/7, yelling at him etc) he'll take the few things that you do have.

He'll take the bed, he'll cut off any light source down there, he'll take your clothes, he may even shave your head.

He'll stop feeding you as much, or even only feed you once you're at the brink of starvation.

Sometimes he'll go down there with a sandwich, or apple, and just eat it in front of you.

"how bad do you want it?"

He'll say while lightly shaking the food in front of you, like you would do to a dog.

"If you really want it.. beg for it."

Sometimes he'll just come down there to show you pictures and videos of his previous victims.

But, if you act in a way that he deems "good" he'll mainly just go down there to "hang out" with you

he'll bring you things like a note book and crayons, so you can draw together.

He'll talk to you about his day, (you're not allowed to talk back unless it's to compliment him, or criticize someone who pisses him off) or he'll bring a cd player down there so you can listen to his favorite song

After a while of doing that, he'll take the chance to manipulate you.

He'll start going on rants about his horrible childhood, (an attempt to make you sympathize with him) and make you comfort him as he sobs.

Other times he'll brush your hair for you, if you're "good enough" he may even let you take a bath.

with him in the room of course.

If you ever ask to be free, he'll start spewing all these different excuses

"I need you too much to let you go"

"d-do you not want to l-live with me anymore?"

"do I-I not treat you well enough?"

"what, am I not enough for you no-w??"

If you don't answer him, or you don't start apologizing, he'll stop talking to you all together for weeks on end, and only go down there to feed you.

He'll stop letting you bathe, you'll be right back at square one.

He may whisper little things like "you really hurt me, you know that y/n.." to you, just to make you feel bad.

Even though none of it is real, he genuinely feels nothing for you, his only purpose for you is pure entertainment until he can find another source.

toby is a very twisted individual, he fuels off of peoples pain.

He uses people to feed into his ego, and makes them think they need him.

The best case scenario would be for him to just forget about you, and let you starve to death down there.

By the 7-8th month, he'd already broken you.

The heinous amounts of violence, and manipulation he's applied to you, finally "worked".

He has you just how he wants you.

when you wake up it's toby.

When you go to sleep, it's toby.

He's everything you think about, how he feels, what he thinks, how deep your love for him is, how much he loves you, how you would do anything for him.

You would die for toby.

Your love for toby quickly became obsessive, once he made you aware of the lengths he went too just to keep you to himself

he's put so much time and effort into you, after all you've put him through, all the fights, all the escape attempts, he still stayed with you.

He still loved you.

He's so generous and kind to you, sometimes he even unchains you and lets you come upstairs with him

You're not allowed outside though, he tells you there are dangerous things out there, and people who will want to take you away from him.

And you believe him, why would toby ever lie to you?

He has no reason to, he could tell you how much he despised you, and you'd still love him, you're devoted to him, fully.

One day, he told you that he thought you might be lonely while he was gone "hunting", and that he was gonna get you a new friend

You were thinking that he meant a dog, or cat.. you couldn't be more wrong.

It was a rainy afternoon, you knew that because you could see through a tiny window leading out of the basement, you didn't know what time, or day it is because he didn't let you

All you know is that you've been here a while.

You hear the door open up stairs, and you recognize Toby's footsteps, they sound a bit heavier.. like he's carrying something.

You feel a twinge of excitement

you hear that same old creaky door open, and in comes toby.

Carrying an unconscious girl..

You can barely see, but it appears that she has mid length hair, she looks about 5'8, and she's very pretty.

He takes her to the other side of the room, and chains her hands to the wall.

The dim light shines through the window, casting a glow onto her.

She has brown hair, freckles, and tanned skin.

As you analyze her, that's when you notice a bobby pin in her hair.

You brush it off, and quickly forget about it.

At first you were jealous, but your worries were quickly dissipated when he did this, he clearly loved you the most, if she's the one thats almost fully immobilized.

he walked over to you, and kneeled in front of you.

He raised his gloved hand, and placed it on your cheek.

He removed his mouth guard, and lowered his lips down to your other cheek, he gently, and lovingly pressed a kiss into your cheek.

He lips felt cold pressed against your skin, almost as if he were a ghost.

His eyes are so dreamy, almost sirenic.

He let his hand linger on your cheek before he stood up, and walked back upstairs.

You turned your head to the girl, her body lay limp, almost as if she were dead.

you crawled over to her to get a better look, as you got closer you could tell she was covered in sweat, she must have been like you, running away from toby.

You've come to regret that, running away from him.

If only you knew how much he adored you.

Suddenly, her eyes shot open, and her breathing became labored.

She was frantically looking around the room

"it's okay.." you speak

she quickly looks at you

"where am I??" She says, her voice is hoarse, she tries to wiggle her hands out of the cuffs, but to no avail.

"a basement." You aren't rude when you say it, but there is a little sarcasm laced in your tone.

"oh.."

She sighs

After a few minutes of silence, she finally speaks again

"I'm jasmine... You?"

You stare at her for a few seconds before speaking

"y/n.."

She lightly smiles, you did as well.

After a few hours of small talk, you finally go to sleep.

3:58/15:58 am

"wake up"

You were roughly woken up by someone shaking you.

Its dark, so you couldn't tell who it is, but their voice is familiar.

you soon realize that it's jasmine, some how she'd freed herself from her chains.

"we're going to escape" she whispered

although she couldn't see it, confusion was plastered across your face.

You noticed that your ankle feels lighter, like how it feels when toby lets you roam around the cabin.

Before you could fully process what was happening, she had grabbed your arm and started to lead you upstairs.

you nearly trip as she pulls you up the stairs, and slowly opens the door.

the lights weren't on, and by this point your eyes are adjusted to the darkness.

the house looked as beat up as it usually did, the wallpaper was peeling, the floor was creaky, and the ceiling was still moldy.

She suddenly stops, and turns to you.

"We're gonna sneak to the kitchen, you keep watch while I look for a knife."

her tone of voice sounds strained, and desperate.

She starts dragging you again, when you stop dead in your tracks.

"what are you going to do with a knife?"

She turns, and looks at you, almost dumbfounded.

"we're gonna stab that sorry son of a b*tch that kidnapped us!"

Her voice slightly raised, anger was evident in her tone.

"oh.." you muttered, as you two crept through the hall.

You felt fury burn in your throat.

she doesn't know, she doesn't know how loving and kind toby is, how caring and considerate he is.

he's just misunderstood, and you're the only one who really understands him.

You two finally make it to the beat up kitchen, she lets you go, and leaves you at the entrance and starts going through the drawers.

as you lean against the wall, you start to look around the room.

that's when you notice something shiny sticking out from under the couch.

You turn your head to see her turned away from you, quietly rummaging through the shelves, and drawers.

You approach the couch, and kneel down to get a closer look.

It's a gun, a silver gun.

You remembered toby talking about stealing one of his "buddies" favorite guns, as a prank.

This must be where he hid it

You pulled it out, it was quite heavy.

You checked to see if it was loaded, it was..

you flinch as you hear Jasmine speak from behind you

"what'd you find?"

you quickly stand up, gun in hand.

Before she can say anything else, you point the gun right at her temple.

Confusion, and betrayal written on her face.

"I'm sorry, I really am.."

Right as she's about to respond, you pull the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot rings in your ears.

before you know it, her body falls to the ground, blood and brain matter spewing from the gunshot wound.

Silence surrounds you, you can feel your legs go limp as you flop into the couch.

You start to zone out, eyes focused on her dead body.

You drop the gun on the ground

You dont even notice the sound of toby storming through the halls

You lightly flinch when you feel hands roughly grab your shoulders

"WHAT DID YOU DO?"

He yells, his voice quickly draws your attention from jasmine, to him.

You try to speak, but you can't get the words out

"y/n.. what the F*CK did you do."

his voice is stern, he wasn't asking you, at this point he's commanding you to tell him.

"I-.." you hesitate

"she was going to kill you-u and.."

that's when it fully hit you, you had just killed someone.

Someone who thought they were helping you.

You immediately start sobbing, your tears sting as they roll down your cheek.

Toby embraces you, and pats your back as he does.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry toby, I'm sorry" you sob into his shoulder, your words are almost intelligible.

"it's okay.. you did it for me didn't you?"

you slightly pull away from the hug, and nod.

"Don't worry, I forgive you."

He whispers, his voice is now comforting, completely different than it was a minute ago, his expression has also changed.

His expression went from a confused, yet rage filled look, to a cheerful smile.

A smile that was a bit off putting, considering the situation.

He pulls you back into the hug, and you two stay like that all night long, until you fall asleep.

The next morning, toby tells you that you two have to bury the body "before it starts stinking up the place" and so you do.

You have her feet, and toby has her hands.

You two lay her body on the ground, you stare at her lifeless eyes, not even realizing that toby was talking to you.

"y/n!" He snaps his fingers in your face.

You quickly look at him

"I'm gonna go get some stuff, I'll be right back okay?"

You simply nod

As he walks off, you walk over to her, and close her eyes.

You can't handle her staring at you anymore.

Soon enough, toby comes back witt two shovels one for you, and one for him.

He hands you one, and you both start digging.

a few hours later

You were finally done, you went over to the body to help toby pick it up, but before you could toby kicked the body into the hole.

you stand beside him, as he shovels the dirt back into the hole.

You feel a cloud of guilt loom over you as you watch the dirt cover up more, and more of her corpse.

Tears start to fall from your eyes once more

As soon as he's done, you feel him wrap an arm around your torso.

You lean your head against his shoulder, and sigh as you wipe the tears from your eyes.

"I love you toby.." you whisper

"I know." he says before pressing a kiss onto your forehead.

I'm so sorry if this seemed rushed at the end, I wanted to get it out asap 🫶🏽

#creepypasta #headcanon #creepypasta headcanon #fanfic #ticci toby #creepypasta ticci toby #creepypasta x reader #x reader #obessive love

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shyflameweasel · 3 years ago

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Calm before the Storm

So I guess having this poor reader endure all this is now gonna be a series I guess.

Something was happening in Nevada and whatever it was was spilling out those Things into the rest of America. At least...that’s what you thought. (A tip from that clown) You had no idea how long you were kept at the hospital, both for care and for the disappearance of seven people. There was no suspect aside from you, so what else were they going to think? (”You have evidence one” cajoling “they have to believe that.” “No they won’t” the other hissing they’ll think you’re ranting and raving, it’ll make you vulnerable. Even if they take the film only six died from the clown, while the last...” They’ve been getting louder since...)

They had you on some medication, some antibiotics for your arm and something to help you sleep at night. When you closed your eyes you could still see bloody sky’s and grey wastes. The screams and laughter bounced around your head accompanied by breaking bones and meaty rips. Iron and sickeningly sweet decay suffocated you. Clawing hands enraged faces-

Maybe it would be good to ask for something for the memories.

You had some internet access during your stay. Nobody from home had come to see you (Did they know about the case? Or did your isolation drive them away?) You had looked to see if a ‘Tricky the clown’ was real. All you got were one or two people (with arms and faces and beating hearts). You looked up ‘grunts’, and that took you nowhere helpful. ‘Gray people’ gave you aliens unsurprisingly, a few creepypastas, local legends (which led nowhere) and it trying to correct the search to ‘gay people’. (The you of before would have chuckled, the you of now can’t bring themselves to try). Anything pertaining to ‘faceless monsters’ just gave you more cryptids and creepypastas.

A part of you knew that you should of stopped. Should have just pushed aside the feelings and focused on getting better. But you couldn’t, not this time. Before no one had been harmed (lies) but now people were dead (your arm branded. You couldn’t bear to look at it) If there was a chance that more were around (they had to be) then something needed to be done.

Just when you were about to end the search for the day...you found something. Apparently, someone had sighted a similar Thing. There was no picture but their description painted the same picture of what you knew. It didn’t stop there, there were a thread of posts with sightings in different areas (towns city states some hours some days away). Some said that they saw them with a mouth, others eyes, a handful said hair, and one with a full face minus a nose. (Ones that pointed with betrayed signs, a face scrapped off to show bloodied bones, one the size of a house with nails through the head).

Some posts took them seriously, others weren’t. (Like it was all some kind of game of pretend and NOT HAVING PEOPLES LIVES ON THE LINE) Hesitantly, you leave post on the thread, ‘Has anyone been attacked or followed by them’. It takes some time but a few replies come in, saying that they’ve personally never gotten close to one but maybe someone else has.

That left a pit in your stomach, either what happened to you was a fluke (was it?) or that more worryingly...you were the only one to survive an encounter.

You kept an eye on the thread for the next couple of days. Call it a gut feeling but...you had a feeling that if you didn’t you would regret it. (”Focus on yourself, all this worrying will just make you sicker.” “Wait and watch, these things take time and tiring yourself out before will only make it worse.”) Whatever you were waiting for came to pass as one night, a post came into the thread. Asking for help. They’d gotten to close to one of them without realizing and now was being chased.

Several more posts followed that one in quick succession. Each near illegible. The poor fool was live posting to what was going on. The results from the others were mixed, but you could tell that a lot of folks were skeptical. Maybe it was the trauma or maybe it was the desire to see that someone survived what your friends didn’t. You quickly wrote that they needed to hide, that if they didn’t have a weapon to find one. If they had any idea of their location to call someone and tell them where they were incase of the worst case scenario.

You hoped that your message didn’t get out too late.

The messages seemed to stop after that...at least from that one user. A majority thought that this was one of those alternate reality horror stories. But the minority were skeptical and worried. You watched the thread like a hawk until exhaustion took you late into the early morning. “You did your best, you got the word out.” “Sleep. if they’re still being chased then going silent draws less attention. All we can do is wait.”

And you did.

The voices offered what comfort they could as days went by. (You were honestly surprised that you hadn’t gone grey over all the stress from the last month.) It was three days after that you received a PM. It was better than you expected. The person from two days ago, beaten and bruised (broken ribs and a busted arm) was alive. The pressure in your chest lightened. They had taken your advice to hide and call for help. They’d been found but the person they called had gotten there (in time).

The words blurred and you realized you were crying. You’d cried a lot since of the beginning of this chaos (fear panic agony mind breaking madness) but this time...it was from happiness. For the first time in what felt like an eternity there was a light in this nightmare. A part of you knew this happiness wouldn’t last for long, that reality would snap back and you’d worry again about the them again.

Something was happening in Nevada but for right now, right now you would take what joy you could get.

#madness combat #irl reader #*me looking at this reader*#whelp guess you were created to suffer endlessly my dude

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! If you don't mind could you write me some headcanons about being bff with some female cp's? Like Jane, Nina, Clockwork, Nurse Ann...?

One of my best friends is called one of these names so it was odd to write XD Some headcanon’s were totally true about her as well, and some definitely were n o t. XD

Anyway I’m not sure how comprehensive this is since I just kinda spewed it all out so, uh… I hope you like them! 😅

~~~

Clockwork:

· Natalie stays at your house all the time and eats all your food. Girl has a FAST metabolism so you cannot tell, but she eats e v e r y t h i n g.

· She doesn’t even have a key to your home, you just come home from everyday activities and she’s slumped in your couch cushions watching TV and there’s a pool on your bathroom floor from her shower and- oh, she has also ordered pizza so get your wallet out.

· You just squint/glare at her before flopping on the couch beside her. She hands you the remote and gets comfier by you.

· Even when you have a romantic interest over, she is there at your house, comfortable on the couch playing games on your phone as you walk your ‘friend’ to your room.

· It’s not all frustrating though, she’s always there to protect you. There have been multiple burglaries that she has intercepted and ‘taken care of’. She’s honestly like a guard dog who also has an excellent sense of humour.

· And don’t think she just wants you around for your apartment and money. Nay nayyyyyy nay. She tells you all about the Creepypasta drama and what’s going on at the mansion, even though you aren’t apart of that life.

· And she calls when she’s away. Just calls up to talk to you.

· You two are the kind of friends that don’t need to talk to each other all the time. In fact, you agree that talking to people all the time is annoying and too much trouble, and you could totally go without each other for days (Weeks even) if either of you were busy! But… without either of you even realising, you always end up contacting each other in one way or another every day, anyway. Its easy with you two. No romantic relationship could compare.

· She was the groom and you were the bride in your make-believe weddings and mums and dads games as kids.

· On Toby: “Okay Nat, I like Toby but I hope you know, if he hurts you… well there is absolutely nothing I can do to wreak revenge on your behalf, as he is a duo hatchet wielding psychopath, except maybe give him a stink eye. … When he is looking away and therefore cannot see the stink eye.”

· More on the Toby subject: Clockwork once took you to Slender Mansion (Cuz you were targeted by a botched victim of hers because she cares about you and she wanted you close by to keep you safe until she could, like, finish killing the guy and all. Whatever though, no biggie. Pft, At least that’s how she made it out to be.) and she had to leave you for a moment so she handcuffed you and Toby together because he’s the only one she could trust to watch you.

· It was very awkward for the two of you, but definitely a bonding experience. You were both very happy to see Clocky come back though.

· HORROR. The world of horror is your favourite genre together. Supernatural horror, slashers, basement dwellers, vampires, werewolves, the blob, stalkers, murderers, psychological horror, black and white, colour, movies, tv shows, books- whatever. You two get so excited to experience new fictional horror.

Jane The Killer:

· If you’re into boys, let me tell you right away- Jane is very critical of their actions. She was at a very influential time in her life (Especially concerning boys and girls and romance) when she met Jeff and Liu. She met those boys, thought ‘Oh, they’re cute. Maybe budding crush?’, and then Jeff killed her family, burnt down her home and ruined her life and Liu became an asshole, and now the male species has been, sorta… tainted. She knows there are good ones (In fact, m a n y boys are lovely, of course.), but one’s that you’re in romantic cahoots with are always going to be under her very watchful eye anyway so she doesn’t really bother to hold back her fear (Which translates into dislike… or hate) with them. So if you have boy problems, be careful. Provided you like this/these guy/s, at least. If you don’t like them, then she’s the perfect person to go to!

· If you are a boy, then- of course, none of this applies to you. She loves you. Don’t worry. You’re her best friend!

· Girls are an entirely different situation though of course. Jane drinks that love women juice every single day.

· Jane is really good with altering clothes, so she’s the one you go to when you need help hemming something or taking something in. She likes to do it, too. Quality best friend time while not being lazy.

· Speaking of her hating to be lazy… This does not apply at night. Nighttime is a whole other ballgame. Its bedtime by 7 for her if you don’t lock her into plans a week in advance. If she is braless and in her P.J’s, you will not be able to peel her from her home. Except for snacks, but even if she goes to the grocery store, she’s not getting changed and she’s going to wear her bunny slippers.

· You two watch so many cartoons together. Gravity Falls, Star Vs The Forces of Evil, Over The Garden Hedge, Villainous, Looney Tunes, Ducktales, etc. Any and all that you can get your hands on.

· You two are prepared to get platonically married, for any reason. Like, you need to stay in the country? Married; You’re staying. You’re the only one who can testify against hr in the court of law? Married, so by law you don’t have to. One of you accidentally planted yourselves with a kid and (Cuz you’re ride or die for each other, obviously), you’re gonna parent the child together and cuz of religious beliefs one of your would feel better about raising them together with a wedding band? Married.

· Jane doesn’t drink, so when/if you get drunk she’s always there to keep you safe.

· Jane also gets friend-jealous, a lot. Like, that bitch just called you her best friend, Y/N. Is she your best friend? I thought I was. So who is it, Y/N? Me or her? HM? (She is prepared to turn up to wherever you and this person are hanging, all glamorous and cool as she is, and show off. Prove she’s a way better friend then this new person so they back off).

· When you were little, she was the bride and you were the groom in your wedding/marriage/mums and dads games.

Nina The Killer:

· You have known her for both your entire lives and there have been iffy, and dark times but through hell and high water you have stuck with her. You love her. She’s your girl, you are her person too. You will be with her, and protect her from anything.

· You are the only one in the world that loves her, really. You may not quite understand her weirdness, but you stick with her anyway because you love her.

· Just like- baseline of your friendship is being ride or die for each other.

· You were also really into Jeff, but at a more… healthy? Level? Like, you were still romantically interested in a real-life murderer, but you wouldn’t have done anything about it. You wouldn’t hurt anyone (Except to protect others) or victim blame, or contact the victims (Dear God) or whatever, but you would take peaks at fanfiction and gab with Nina about it. I mean, it’s not grand, but in comparison to Nina, hah… you were harmless.

· Now though, that you’ve met him and he is the reason your bets friend is so hurt and broken, you are not the fondest of him. I mean, you still have a place in your heart for the version of him you and Nina made up in your heads (The version that Nina still believes is real) but that isn’t the real him. Jeff Woods is an ass. You need to keep your friend safe from him.

· And uh… so nowadays… occasionally, you will find out where Jeff is (You keep an ear out) and, you know, just… lie your ass off to Nina. Yep. You tell her you heard that he’s in the opposite direction than he is so that she’ll unknowingly put more distance between him and her.

· Yes. It’s a lie, but… its for the greater good! It’s for Nina’s mental health and physical safety.

· Anyway, moving on to lighter things.

· In your make believe mums and dads/’grown up’ games that you would play together as kids, you were a single parent and she was the dog.

· She will lie for you in an instant. She’s also really good at it.

· You walked into a room once and saw she was drawing something, and it turned out to be your joint tombstone. She has not let this go- you will be buried in the same plot together, if it is the last thing she does. This is slightly concerning, but… also kind of cute. You can roll with it.

· “What if I get married or have kids?”

· “They will need to apply with me to join. There will be an interview process.”

· ‘What about pets?”

· “Oh, they can come in! No fee!”

· Do not underestimate her weight. If she doesn’t want you to leave, she will hold onto your leg and go deadweight, and you will s t r u g g l e.

· Nina talks to herself, but she acts like the person she’s talking to is another person, inside her mind. You both know its not, but you refer to the other girl as Agnes anyway. Super casual.

· Follows you when you go on dates (At least the first one with someone)to make sure all goes well and texts you rapid fire when she smells something fishy. Even the smallest thing.

· You two really love dystopian teen fiction. Divergent? Matched? Hunger Games? Maze Runner? Ugles? Alllllll. You consume them and then watch the movies/tv shows too.

Nurse Ann:

· Live-in medical services! This means you can get really cheap life insurance and not worry about it to much.

· And on the topic of insurance… Ann is super smart, and organised, and just really awesome at practical stuff like that. Insurance, bills, mortgages, any kind of forms and receipts. And she’s happy to sit down and help you go through it- and, as we all know, everything is better when it’s with a friend you feel comfortable with.

· You can tell Ann anything and she’ll just roll with it. No judgment. Either she takes it and lets you talk about it or she just acknowledges it and moves on.

· Like Jane, Ann has very little patience for boy problems. In fact, she has zero time for it. Boys? Girls? No thank you. So if you’re into boys, I have some bad news for you.

· Best friend maintenance. Occasionally, Ann will over work herself (with murder) and you will need to guide her to relaxation. Gently persuade her to sit down at the dinner table and just make idle chit chat with her every now and then as you make her a good, hearty meal (Or as good as you can do XD Anything between Beefy stew and a Cheese toastie will work fine, don’t worry. She’s not picky at all), and then watch some movies with her. No phones, no knitting, no drawing, no… whatever. No other activities except TV watching! She needs to rest. I’m always shocked at how relaxing just sitting and watching TV can be. There’s a big difference between doing that and multitasking.

· Ann will call you to pretend there’s an emergency if you want to get out of social engagement.

· A thing that two enjoy together is science fiction. Star Trek (Including the animation), The War of Worlds, the world of Star Wars, Dune, a Handmaids Tail, The 100, Eureka, etc. She loves the brainy stuff.

· Ann is the logical friend, who tries to give the most practical advice and make pros and con lists and everything. And then you go ahead and do the crazy thing, the thing she said definitely would not work and would probably make things worse, and she just face palms and says she’s never getting mixed up in your mess again. … Until the next time, when she totally does.

· “I love you Y/N, but I am not about to walk into a police office and bail you out of jail so do not do that.”

· You trap her into resting by painting her nails (Hands and feet) in her sleep right before her alarm is about to go off so she has to take the morning SLOW or the paint will mess up. She just wakes up, you hold up a sign in front of her face that says ‘NAILS’ and she stops immediately. “You bitch.”

· As kids, of course, the two of you would play make-believe family games and you were both mums (/ or you were the dad). She was the working mum and you were forced to stay home take care the baby (large container of vitamins with a face drawn on).

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thefloatingstone · 5 years ago

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If you’re doing Self Quarintine (and you should be if you can help it) here’s some Youtube recommendations! Some of these I have posted about or recommended before but with almost all of us stuck indoors now’s a good time to remind you of some cool things you can watch for free!

I’m not gonna imbed the videos, I’ll just post the link because otherwise I would only able to post 5 and I want to collect a few so you can make a playlist or something. (I could make a playlist too but then I couldn’t tell you what each video is and you can’t pick and choose which one sounds interesting to you)

In no particular order:

Polybius: The video Game that doesn’t exist

An hour long documentary in which the youtuber did extensive research to find the origin of the “Polybius” Urban Legend, which speaks of an early arcade game reportedly seen around the early 1980s which reportedly gave people migraines, insomnia, nausea, subliminal messages, and in some cases heart attacks.

The Universal S

A shorter video in which LEMMiNO does his very best to try and track down where exactly this S that we all drew in middle school comes from? Why does literally every country on earth seem to HAVE their children draw this S?

I also recommend LEMMiNO’s video on the Dayltov Pass Incident and the perplexing UFO cases

Down the Rabbit Hole: Henry Darger

Fredrick Knudsen has an incredible fascinating series called “Down the Rabbit Hole” which simply focuses on... anything you can discover and go digging into. From weird internet personalities, to bizarre happenings in history. This video is about the artist Henry Darger, a man who lived in the early 1900s and for all intents and purposes had a perfectly average, lonely life, until it was discovered just before his death he had spent literally decades writing and drawing a fantasy world in what is possibly the longest piece of literature ever written.

I also recommend his video on the Hurdy Gurdy

Bedtime Stories Channel

I’m actually just gonna link the whole channel for “Bedtime Stories”. If you like weird and creepy stories, all of which at least claim to be “true” then Bedtime Stories is great. Coupled by illustrations and subtle sound effects, Bedtime Stories is literally listening to someone tell you a story about such things like hikers who mysteriously went missing, Sightings of Bog Men in Florida and giant Birds over Chernobyl, as well as weird and unsettling murders that remain unsolved. Sometimes the facts are a little dubious or have been disproved, but that’s not the point of the channel. It’s here to tell a creepy story, not give you a documentary.

A Journey Through Rule of Rose

Rule of Rose is a Survival Horror gave for the PS2 which has rather bad gameplay... but a FASCINATING story with just as many layers and symbolism as Silent Hill 2 could boast. It tells the story of one young woman traveling back into her own childhood in an orphanage in the 1930s, and all the horrors that contains. From repressed grief, abusive relationships, child neglect, abuse, and bullying... but it ALSO contains symbolism of societal class structure, politics, eating the rich, and how power structures work. Not for the faint of heart, but HIGHLY recommended.

I also super highly recommend his video on the similarities between Silent Hill 2 and Solaris

Clemps Reviews Crisis Core

Mr. Clemps is a great internet gamer who reviews JRPGs and other games he simply enjoys. Sprinkling in a heavy dose of comedy and very fast jokes and observations, Clemps’ videos are always upbeat, fun, and incredibly enjoyable to watch. I’m linking part 1 of his Crisis Core video in which he explains why the PSP game remains a personal favourite of his despite its flaws.

I also recommend his video on Eternal Sonata

Defunct TV: The History of Dragon Tales

Defunctland is a channel that deals with theme parks and theme park rides that are no longer standing, or which are no longer around in their current form. Defunctland also has a sub series though, called “Defunct TV” where they look at the origin of children’s TV which are no longer airing. I recommend the video on Dragon Tales which is incredibly wholesome, and a genuinely uplifting and soft story of good people trying to make good things for children. (I also recommend the videos on Bear in the Big Blue House, Zoboomafoo, and Legends of the Hidden Temple)

Hagan’s Histories of Polar Exploration

A Playlist for Diamanda Hagan’s videos about the doomed Franklin Expedition from the late 1800s, where England tried to find a passage through the Northern Arctic to the Pacific Ocean. This went horribly horribly wrong, with every member of the Expedition dead. Over a 100 years later we are still fuzzy on what EXACTLY happened, but apart from the arctic chill, there is also evidence of faulty canned food, a series of bad decisions, and cannibalism. Caution advised for this series.

I also recommend the rest of Diamanda Hagan’s channel. She is NOT for everyone, but if you enjoy somebody reviewing Z grade indie movies as well as just BIZARRE films, really bad Christian media bordering on Science Fiction (without making fun of religion itself) hot takes of classic (and modern) Dr. Who, an introduction to Red Dwarf, She’s an EXCELLENT channel to check out.

Good Bad or Bad Bad: Pass Thru

A half podcast half review show where two guys watch a terrible film, decide if it’s “Good” Bad or just Bad Bad and tell you if you should watch it too.

That’s it. That’s the whole show.

I recommend diving into the untold madness that is one of the best(?) bad film makers currently still producing batshit insane movies, the immortal Niel Breen.

There is literally nothing I can say that’ll prepare you for Niel Breen.

(I also recommend their more recent video for “Dancin’ It’s on!”)

History Buffs: Apollo 13

Do you like History? Do you like movies ABOUT History? Do you want to know if the movies about history you watch actually resemble what really happened in any way at all? History Buffs is an EXCELLENT channel, which does talk about the merit of a film itself, but is mainly focused on letting you know just how true to life that historical film you watch is. I highly recommend his longest video which covers the space race between the USA and the USSR, leading to what is known as “The most Successful Failure in NASA’s History”. The Infamous Apollo 13 and where the words “Houston, we have a problem” came from.

If you’re not interested in Apollo 13 however, I also recommend his video on the movie Casino, as well as his video on the female philosopher, Agora.

The Internet Historian: The Goodening of No Man’s Sky

With videos with literally MILLIONS of views, you probably already know the Internet Historian. But I still want to recommend him very highly because his videos are just THAT good and entertaining. I recommend his newest video, documenting that time we were all pissed off about No Man’s Sky, the difficulties the game studio was in when the game released, and how they have been working hard to finally create what is now a truly brilliant game which is winning major awards. A really good underdog story of how a video game company actually saw what was wrong with their game, and FIXED it.

I also recommend his video on Fallour 76 as well as the Failure of Dashcon

8 Creepy Video game mysteries

Hey. Did you know that sometimes there’s some REALLY weird shit in video games, hidden easter eggs which took literal decades to find as well as just a lot of “what the actual fuck?”. Oddheader is a channel with a dedicated discord and Reddit form solely focusing on trying to find or replicate bizarre video game finds, mysteries, and hidden glitches. Even if it means getting in his car and driving to a specific arcade just to check a rumour about Street Fighter II’s arcade version. So if you like getting spooked by weird game shit that’s not just some dumb creepypasta, this is a great place to start.

I also recommend his video on weird discoveries in DVDs and movies.

Red Letter Media: Best of the Worst

Look you already know who Red Letter Media is.

You know... these guys:

Here’s a video of them and Macaulay Culkin watching 3 terrible movies together.

I recommend literally any and all of their videos. Their discussion on Carpenter’s The Thing is amazing.

The Impact of Akira: The film that changed Everything

Ok trying to pick just ONE Super Eyepatch Wolf video is literal torture. Originally I was going to suggest his recent video on Final Fantasy 7 for the PSone but I realised I recommended something FF7 related with Clemps, so instead I will recommend The Impact of Akira, a video talking in depth about Akira both as a film as well as a manga, how it completely and utterly changed the anime industry both in Japan as well as the west, and why it is still a meaningful and one of the most important anime/manga even to this day, still being unsurpassed despite so much competition.

However, ALL of Wolf’s videos are incredible, so I also recommend his videos on wrestling (despite me not caring about wrestling at all), His video on how media scares us, The bizarre reality of modern Simpsons, Why the Dragon Ball Z manga is great, and literally any other video he’s made. He hasn’t made one bad video yet.

Was Oblivion as Good as I remember?

Exactly what it says on the tin. The Salt Factory goes back to playing The Elder Scrolls Oblivion and now with hindsight and modern sensibilities, gives feedback on his experience and whether Oblivion still holds up. This isn’t a super in depth review of the game’s mechanics or how its put together or how it was made. This is simply one guy talking about his experience replaying it with somejokes thrown in and how he felt revisiting it. It’s pretty good.

I also recommend the video he did on Morrowind (because I’m biased).

Weird Japan Only PS1 games

Thor High Heels is SO GOOD and deserves SO MUCH MORE subs than he currently has. THH focuses a lot of obscure and lesser known games as well as big popular titles like the Yakuza series, talking about what he likes about them, what he thinks is cool, and just what kind of atmosphere and mood a certain game has, even if the game itself is kind of ass. He’s done several videos on games that were only released in Japan, as well as videos talking about the fashion in Squaresoft games and how it inspired as well as was inspired by real world street fashion, the aesthetic of PC-98 games and other topics. He also styles his videos and thumbnails after promotional art for video games from the 90s and generally just has an excellent style to his channel over all. Very chill.

Blue Reflection Review

ValkyrieAurora is a channel run by Sophie where she talks about games she personally likes and enjoys. Her videos are really laid back and her voice is really calm and pleasant to listen to. She’s made a bit of a reputation for herself as “The channel that talks about the Atelier Games” and general is just a really enjoyable channel worth checking out if you just want something soothing to listen to.

Ancient Chinese Historians Describe Japan

Voices from the Past is a channel were historical text is read out loud in english. These can be anything like the above video where Chinese historians describe the people of Japan around 297 AD, Accounts of “Dog-Men”, or the worlds oldest letter of complaint from 1750 BC. If you’d like something interesting historically to listen to but don’t want a full blown history lesson, this is a really good way to hear contemporary people talk about their experiences and what they thought about each other in their own words, without opinions or input given by the narrator.

The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet

Whang! is a channel that covers weird internet stories, some horrifying, some curious and interesting, and some just plain weird. His video on The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet and its update, are about a song which was recorded off the radio in Germany around the 1980s, and after one person online asked if anyone knew who the artist was as they couldn’t find any information, led to the realization that NOBODY online knows where this song came from or who sang it. It’s a fun mystery to look into that, unlike some others on this list, is not creepy or unsettling, although perhaps a little frustrating.

I also recommend his video on The Most Mysterious Anime theme song, and the haunted Ebay Painting.

5 Lost, Destroyed, and Locked away Broadcasts

Yesterworld is similar to the Defunctland channel in that it talks about obsolete rides, theme parks and other forgotten pieces of entertainment. Although the majority of the channel focuses on movie rides, rollercoasters and Disneyland, I recommend the video on lost and locked away broadcasts which you can no longer see. I also recommend the video about Lost and Rediscovered movie props.

The Nightmare Artist

I talked about this one recently as I just discovered this channel. This video is about the renowned Polish artist Zdzislaw Beksinski who painted surreal and horrifying paintings during his lifetime. There is no mystery here or anything like that, it merely talks about the impact WWII left on Beksinski and how the trauma his country and people suffered influenced his painting, and how certain images and motifs can be seen to directly reference this terrible part of Poland’s history.

Disabilities in Prehistory

Modern media likes to portray how “savage” the ancient past is, and tell us stories of how any person born with a deformity or disability would be thrown over a cliff or dumped in a well because they would be too big a drain on a community to look after. But here’s the thing... according to archaeological evidence, it turns out our ancient ancestors actually did their best to look after its disabled members to the best of their abilities. This video talks about archaeological finds of people who had genetic disabilities and what we can learn from their remains. TREY the Explainer is a great channel for archaeology and also talking about what answers we could have for sightings of cryptids. (not ALL of which we have answers for)

I also recommend his video on Pre-Contact dogs as well as Homosexuality in Nature and the Genetic History of the Ainu.

Decoding “The Secret: A treasure Hunt”

“The Secret” was an art book released in the 80s full of beautiful paintings, but it is also more than that. The book has a fantasy story talking about 12 fantastical races who left wonderful treasures for humans to find,and the book’s paintings and riddles will tell you where you can find each of these treasures which are yours to keep if you can solve the puzzle... and the treasures are 100% true and can actualy be found and claimed, if you can solve the riddles in the book. The video tells the story of the artbook, who was behind it, what the treasures are, how many have been found and various other facts and details.

I also recommend the videos on this channel “The Game: A scavenger Hunt” and “The investigation of Erratas”.

5 Ancient Inventions That Were WAY Ahead Of Their Time

I would recommend you be careful with this channel as its main focus is existentialism and rather alarming topics such as “how close are we to the apocalypse” and other things whose titles alone are enough to upset me. However this video is nothing like that. This video is exactly what the title suggests it is. 5 ancient inventions that were so incredibly ahead of their time you’d think they were made up. From the computer used by ancient Greeks to steel swords we don’t know how to replicate, this video is a great mix of mystery and history.

Although I caution you with this channel, I recommend Joe’s other videos about mysterious books, as well as his video on the most inbred people in history.

However, I know I keep repeating this, I highly recommend caution with this channel. Perhaps its just me and the topics of life and existent are just triggering for me, but I’d recommend maybe just doing a search for the titles I mentioned and not to go searching through the video library unless you’re not bothered by this kind of thing.

Anyway I could keep going, but I think that’s a LARGE amount of videos to keep you occupied for the time being as well as some suggestions for further viewing.

Please enjoy, let me know if you found something interesting, and look after yourself!

If you enjoyed this list at all, please consider tipping me for a coffee

☕️ Ko-fi ☕️

#self isolation #Youtube #Links #Recommended #recommendations #documentary #long post #ask to tag #tumblr ate the 'read more' I put on this so screw it #Just scroll past or hit J to skip this if you want #No editing we die like men

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itslovelovelyme · 3 years ago

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It's gone. It's all gone. Almost 4 years of friendship, they're just gone like that. I never knew things could end so quickly? I thought I meant more, too.

I don't think I've ever felt this devastated? I never imagined something like this happening. This was my biggest fear, and it became true. I lost you. I lost you forever. I met you back in 2018, January. You commented on that Tumblr submission I sent to Sketch Girl. You complimented my art. I don't think I can put into words the immense amount of happiness I felt. I complimented your art, we followed each other.

Then we started messaging each other. I remember Tumblr wouldn't let you message me, and I remember how I giggled because I thought it was funny. Then our RPs started. Our daily conversations started. You became the first person on the Internet I called a friend, someone that cared about me, and showed genuine concern about my well-being. Talking to you was the highlight of my day, showing my parents the drawings you made for me was one of the best things. "Look what my friend made!! Isn't it amazing?!" I honestly can't help but to find cute how proud I was, hah. I admired you so much, you meant the whole world to me, you were my everything. I think we both can agree we were a bit cringe though, pfft. In a cute way, tho.

Then you also moved to Instagram. I was there, so seeing you there too made me happy! Having my friend in two social medias, "this is awesome!", and it truly was. I talked to you every day, I thought about you at all times. For personal reasons, you know 2018 wasn't the best year for me, but do you know what made it not so bad? You. You were in my life now, you cared about me, you were all I needed, and you really helped me.

There's not much to say about 2019, we were so happy, we were friends and SO close, what else could we have asked for? I wasn't into Creepypastas anymore, and you supported that decision. You supported my own original ideas and characters, you made me see that I actually had something to offer. I will never, ever, forget that. We knew we could count on each other, we knew we could trust one another to be there during our dark times. We knew we had someone we could rely on.

2020. Two years of friendship, haha. I will admit that during this year, you took me by surprise. April hit in. Who would've thought you'd confess your love for me? I wasn't looking for a relationship, but honestly, I loved you as much as you did, and with the same intensity, I'd like to think. I know I never formally said "yes, let's date!", it just kinda happened. I believe it was a bit awkward at first (or maybe it was the embarrassment, at least from my point of view), but honestly, we both know we've always acted like a couple, even in the beginning, even before catching feelings. It wasn't really that hard nor awkward for too long, at all. I quickly loved you even more than before, I loved you a little more with each day passing by. I loved you just so much. Ours was my first serious relationship. I felt so proud, I told all my friends about you, I told them how much you meant to me, I let them know how amazing my girlfriend was. And I let you know that, too. I let them know just how talented, smart, cute and beautiful you were. For once in my life, the so talked butterflies had gotten to me, I really felt like I was touching the sky. I loved knowing I had someone I could call mine, someone I could tell every day how much I loved them, just for them to reply with the same amount of love as I was giving. I will forever cherish this year the most.

Current time: 2021. I believe things started to fail in March. So very quickly towards the start of the year, yeah. Things got bumpy, but I wasn't gonna let that distance me from you, or at least I thought I could do that. I don't think I want to write about this year much, you know all the things we went through during this year (even if it's not over yet). We both know what problems we had, and that we tried our best to make things work. But we couldn't. *I* couldn't.

And I'm so sorry. I swear I'm serious when I say that I tried to hold just so tightly onto the thought of: "things soon will get better, yeah!". But it wasn't enough. I didn't want to let you go, I wasn't ready. But I knew things just weren't working out anymore.

September 5th. I never thought I'd be doing that. I never thought I'd be ending our relationship. You were the only person I could think of a future with. And even now, it still hurts. But I knew that if I didn't end things, then things on their own would have started to clearly fail. I wanted a peaceful breakup, and I actually got that. You understood where I was coming from, and we agreed that we'd continue on being friends. That a breakup wouldn't get in between all these years of friendship.

We were so wrong, weren't we?

I tried so hard to make things work, even if it was awkward at first. I never thought I'd be writing something so painful. I never thought my biggest fear would come true. I never thought I'd have to let you go. I feel sick while writing this. I felt sick the whole day, the whole week, heck, maybe even for months. But nothing can compare to the pain I felt yesterday.

"Maybe this should be it". I said that. I don't know how things got to this point, but don't you find it so odd, just how fast things change? Almost 4 years of friendship. They were all gone in a matter of moments.

And it hurts. It hurts so much. It really does. I tried my best, and I hate to know it just wasn't enough. I'm so fucking sorry, for everything. I hate this. I hate this just so much. September has never been my month, but I never saw this one coming. This was the hardest thing I had to face. But I just knew there wasn't a way out. Sooner or later, it would all have come down to this. I didn't want more damage done, we don't deserve that. Heck, we didn't deserve any of this in the first place. We fucking didn't.

But it happened. And now we're here. I can't grasp the fact that for the first time, you won't be there to wish me a happy birthday. That we won't see more texts from the other saying "good morning!!"; "goodnight!!". That we won't be part of each other's life anymore.

And I'm sorry for being repetitive, but it does hurt just so much. I couldn't nor can't stop my crying. And I don't think it will stop anytime soon, nor the pain. It wasn't a decision I wanted to make, but that I had to. We weren't going to get anywhere, and it fucking sucks to know that even if it's true. We just weren't getting along anymore, we didn't feel comfortable anymore. And it was progressive. Seeing how we slowly drifted apart was one of the hardest things I didn't want to accept. I refused to see the truth. But can you blame me, though?

I loved you. I love you. And I will NEVER forget you. There's just no way. No matter how many years will pass by, I won't forget you. You remember how you used to say that we were soulmates, destined to meet each other? I do believe that too. I just wish I had known sooner that while we were meant to meet, we weren't meant to last. I don't think anyone will nor is able to understand just how much you still mean to me. I never loved someone so much before.

And I have to thank you, for so many things. You were there for me when no one else was. You always supported me. You cared for me. You genuinely showed concern about me and my problems. And most importantly, you showed me I was worth being loved. You taught me how to love myself. You lent me your hand when no one else did. You loved me.

And I hope I did at least half of those things, too. Even if there's no comparison, I know I still tried. All the memories, smiles, laughs, feelings, I will never forget them. I will always thank this life for letting me meet you. And I will always thank you, too.

So thanks, Random. I hope you will remember me in the same way as I remember you. If you ever happen to read this, then just know that I wish you nothing but the best. Please take care, and goodbye.

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musictrash0426 · 4 years ago

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Killing Stalking

My name is Elizabeth Stevens, I’m 17 and it is one month until my senior year of highschool. Most of my friends are going crazy trying to plan out their futures. However, unlike my peers, I've known what I've wanted to be since I was 13. I want to be an artist, my parents fully support my decision which is nice. They have bought me plenty of professional quality supplies since my 14th birthday when they saw all the hard work I put into my art. I've even started selling prints of my work on Redbubble. I also have quite the following

Overall I live in a pretty good neighbourhood. It has great people, including my best friend Kai who lives a few streets over. My family and I live in a pretty large house. It has three floors which is a little big if you ask me. There are only the three of us living here, me, mom and dad. But with that being said my parents gave me the entire basement on my 13th birthday. They also helped me set up every room down here the way I want. Not much has changed, even after being down here for four years..

When you come down the stairs you are greeted with my lounge area. Where we have a couch, tv, game system, large bookshelf and some other things. Next we have my room where I have a fairly minimal look. I have a large bed, large dresser, a walk in closet, and my vanity where I do my makeup. The next room is probably my favourite; it's my art studio. Like I said my parents have supported me over the years so I have a lot of supplies. Honestly I couldn't be more grateful for them and everything they’ve given me. I have a full easel, desk, and a lot of supplies, markers, colour pencils, paint (water, acrylic, oils), alongside my new drawing tablet.

This morning when I got up, I went to my art room and started sketching. I've gotten into this habit as it helps me get into a creative mindset, along with getting into drawing for the day. Once I stop doodling I start to make a list of the things of supplies I had recently run out of.

As I was about to leave, I asked my parents if they needed anything. My mom told me to get her a drink from Starbucks on my way home as she knows I’m planning on going there anyways.

I get into my car and drive to the art store. Luckily this store is only 10 minutes from my house. I walk into the store and look for the supplies on my list. While going through the store, grabbing the things I needed, I decided I also wanted to try out a new paint while I was here. I got some winsor and newton acrylics in red, blue,yellow, sienna, black and white along with some mixing pallets. I also got a canvas as I want to make a large painting later.

My mom texted me asking if I could pick up milk and eggs. So I ran into the supermarket and picked up the few things she wanted. I then went to starbucks, got both my parents, and myself a few drinks, and went home.

I got out of my car balancing shopping bags on my arm,the drinks in my hand and I went inside. I put the milk and eggs in the fridge, gave my parents their drinks and made my way down to my art room to put my supplies away. I started brainstorming ideas of what I want to paint and I finally came up with a concept I liked. I open my sketchbook and I start to draw the rough copy of the picture before blowing it up on the canvas and painting it. While I am drawing out the picture I'm watching lavendertowne’s creepypastas series as it's one of my favourites on youtube.

In my concentration, I lose track of time, and before I know it it’s 4:30 pm. My mom walks to my art room saying her and dad are going on a trip for the next week. So I get the house to myself, which is cool. I've been home alone before. “Elle, you can have Kai over to stay for the week if you want.” mom said. “Also I transferred some money into your account so you and Kai can just order some food if you guys get hungry.”

“Thanks mom,” I say “ I love you.”

“Love you too sweetie.”

I walk upstairs with mom as her and dad are about to leave. I hug them goodbye and tell them to have a safe trip.

I decide to take mom up with her offer and invite Kai over for the week. Lately I haven't been wanting to be home alone. So I called him and he said he’d be over in 10 minutes.

I grab a glass of water and wait, before I knew it there was a knock on my door and it was Kai. I give him a hug and he smiles.

“It’s like we haven't seen each other in a while.” Kai teases me. We saw each other yesterday and I called him late last night because I just wanted to talk to someone.

Kai has literally been my best friend since we were both in diapers. Our moms grew up together so it was bound to happen that we would too. He’s my biggest support system, he’s one of the only people who know how I got into art. I watched a lot of anime growing up, I still do, and the art style is what got me into wanting to be an artist.

“Have you started a new piece yet?” Kai asked

“Yeah I have! And I just finished the rough copy” I say.

“Can I watch you work on it?”

“Of course you can silly,” I say with a grin. I show Kai the canvas to let him gauge what I’ve been working on.

“It looks really good!” But his face saddens a little bit. “Are you doing alright?” I give him a confused look. “You tend to draw horror pieces when you're trying to get yourself into a better place.”

Horror pieces are my favourite to draw. I don't have an explanation for it, but I've always liked them. Maybe it's because I loved horror shows growing up but who knows. I look back at all my works and Kai’s right. I tend to do these pictures more when I'm not the best headspace.

“You really know me, at this point it's mostly subconscious” I laugh “I was also watching creepypasta videos so the idea could have come from that. Anyways, what do you think about it so far?”

“I love it of course!” Kai says

I work on transferring it onto the canvas and after about 2 hours the pencil sketch is laid out. Once that's done we decide to go to the movies. We went and saw whatever Kai wanted to see. He picked some rom com which I wasn't mad at as I enjoy these types of movies.

After the movie we went to a sushi place for dinner. I wasn't that hungry so I got the rest of mine to go. Then we went to the supermarket to get some candy and pop for tonight. We decided that we were going to stay up quite a bit of the night so I can work on my artwork and we can just talk about life and stuff. We pull into the parking lot and head inside. This store is open 24/7 so we have plenty of time to get our stuff, but still it is 11:30pm and something makes the air feel very eerie tonight.

After walking around the store Kai and I look at eachother and we both feel like something is off because this uneasy feeling Kai and I hurry up and grab what we wanted. Kai and I decided to pick up Sour Patch Kids, gummy bears and some chips. We then went into the drink aisle where I picked out Dr. Pepper, and ginger ale. Kai picked out diet Pepsi and cream soda. We picked out the four flavours that we both love. We then decided to get a tub of cotton candy ice cream. As we were turning there was this lady who crashed her cart into ours as we were on our way to check out. I looked up and noticed that it was the same lady that had been in each aisle with us, which honestly didn’t make any sense as we just went to the isles we needed.

We check out of the store and head back to the car. After putting everything in the trunk of the car, I look up and see the same woman still there. What the fuck?

“Hey Kai, can you take the cart back please?” He nods and I get into the car and lock it.

I hear a knock that startles me and I look up. It was just Kai. I unlocked the door and he got in. “Wanna tell me why you had the door locked Elle?”

I look over and the woman gets into the car next to us oh great my horror brain made something out of nothing. She was also probably having a movie night with some of her friends.

“It’s nothing Kai, I think I’m just psyching myself out.”

“Okay.” With that we drove back to my place right in the nic of time too as it just started to rain. We shut off all the lights and lock the doors and windows upstairs. We head back down to my studio and I set up everything to begin painting.

I wanted something in the background while I was working so I put on Another. Kai and I have already watched it a few times but we didn’t want to start something new since I wouldn't be able to give it my full attention. Also it's a horror anime so it will put me in the mood for my painting.

I looked down at the outline I drew; it was a girl who had gone psychotic and had a knife in her hand. My plan is to add blood to her once the painting is completely dry, but first I start by painting the eyes. When they are finished they look very dead and already mentally gone inside. I take a break and lay my head on Kai’s shoulder.

“Tired?” he asks me.

“No, I just wanted a break.” We continue watching the anime after two more episodes. There was a bang of thunder and a flash of lightning, I looked out the small window and saw what looked to be a figure of a woman. I looked back to get a better look but she's gone. I must just be seeing things.

I brush it off then get back to my painting. About an hour later I finish painting the skin and I see another flash out of the corner of my eye. I think to myself how odd that is because there was no thunder. I brushed it off as the volume of the show probably just covered the sound. I decided to be done with painting for the night, so we moved out into the lounge area and continued watching Another. There was another flash and in the window we saw her. The woman from the supermarket was in my window.We were going to call the cops then with another flash she's gone.

We decided we couldn't take anymore horror tonight so we put on Ouran Highschool Host Club a few hours later we were on the episode where a character named Tamaki was trying to figure out his friend Haruhi’s biggest fear. When we see a flash of lightning in the episode, it also flashes here, and we see her silhouette again and she vanishes with the lightning once more.

Creeped out we went to my room and lay in bed, I cuddled into Kai because honestly I was shaking and needed comfort.

In the morning Kai and I woke up to banging on the door. I checked the time and it was 8:30 am. We got up and checked no one was there, but there was an envelope that said Elizabeth Steevens and Kai Kalua I brought it inside.

“Ummmm Kai?”

“Yeah?”

I turn the envelope to show him. We were both scared and didn't know what to do. We opened it and there were at least 40 photos of us, starting from when we were coming out of the movie. There were photos of us at the sushi restaurant, the grocery store, and the worst ones of all the ones that were taken looking into my house. Ones of us in my art room, in the lounge, and ones of us asleep in my bed.

Panicked, I call the police and they tell us to come down to the station. Since neither of us knew the woman's name they said there was nothing they could really do for us except to have us tell them if something else happens. Some help they were, I thought.

Kai and I went back to my studio and I continued working on the piece. This time our show of choice was Miria Nikki. As I was painting the hair I saw another flash and considering what happened last night we decided to go to my parents office and check the security cameras and lo and behold she's there on the property.

“Kai whats that in her hand?”

“I don’t know,”

I looked closer and saw that it was a knife. We once again called the police and this time they came, but hearing a car must have scared her. They came inside and asked to watch the cameras with us. Only this time she was at the back door that's connected to the kitchen and of course I happened to leave it unlocked…

“Oh Elizabeth, Kai, come out come out wherever you are..” The woman sang out menacingly. Her voice rang through the house loudly causing me to look to one of the officers for advice

He nods for Kai and I walk out.

“There you two are,”

“Do we know you?” I ask, genuinely confused as to who this woman is.

“Yeah I don't know who you are either.” Kai said just as confused.

“I'm Chloe. I am in your art class.” She says.

We were both confused; we don’t remember having ever seen her before. Our art class had six people in it, us two, three other of our friends and some weird girl who doesn't talk to anybody.

“... you’re the weird girl in our class aren’t you?” Kai questions.

“What did you call me?” She asked with a defensive tone.

“What did you expect him to say, you literally refuse to talk to us. Then whenever the teacher praises my work, you get angry. Besides who goes around taking pictures of people in their own house! That is fucking creepy.” I say

“I get angry because you always get the spotlight! Give someone else a turn.”

“Elle gets the attention because she actually shows her artwork, you just sit in the back of the class and do nothing. If you want attention why ignore us when we try talking to you? What is your problem? And why do you have a knife?” You can tell Kai is starting to lose patience with the situation, as his questions get increasingly aggressive.

“So I can get rid of my competition,” she smiles sweetly.

“What competition? There is no competition Chloe” I ask

“What competition? I have liked Kai forever!” Chloe says frustrated, slightly getting closer to the two of them with the knife.

Kai puts one hand out towards her, while using the other to pull me back with him a couple steps, creating distance between her and I before he speaks again.“I will never like you. Besides there is only one person I like, and hate to break it to sweetheart but it's not you.” This makes me curious who Kai was referring to.

“Then who is it then?” she asks angrily

That's when Kai kissed me. I kissed him back, albeit slightly flustered. This caused Chloe to become enraged, she came towards us with the knife and that's when the cops came out and told her to put the knife down. She complied and dropped the knife as she didn’t realize that the police were here.

One of the two cops took her away as the other came and told us they were going to hold her and do a mental assessment on her. He also checked to see if Kai and I were okay. After we tell him we are he also leaves, leaving Kai and I alone to deal with this new revelation.

“Do you actually like me? Or were you just saying that to get her to stop…” anxious about the answer since I have liked Kai for a while, but didn't want to make things awkward with him.

“Elle I have liked you for a while but I didn't want to lose you.” Kai says as he pulls me closer to him.

I don't know how to respond, all my mind was telling me was ‘kiss him’. I pull him in by his shoulders to another kiss, quickly dispelling doubts either of us had. Kai placed his hands on my waist and melted into it. He pulls away and leans his forehead against mine, just holding me. For the first time in a few days I felt safe.

“Kai?” I ask in a quiet tone almost a whisper.

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“Can you stay while my parents are gone?” I don’t feel safe enough to be home alone, and you wanted to stay in the comfort that he gave you.

“Of course I can angel.”

#anime #alone #creepy #artist #high school #home alone #horror #oneshot #senior #stalker

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creepy-spooghetti · 4 years ago

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A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 7 - I’m On My Way

With fatigue, she leans on the wall for support and stands, weakly stumbling to the sink, refusing to look at her reflection in the mirror as she bends over and turns the faucet on. She gets soap from the dispenser on her palm and rubs both of her hands together before holding them under the water to rinse them, and immediately after that, sticks her face underneath, hoping to rid herself of the foul taste still very present in her mouth.

She spits minuscule pieces of undigested food into the sink, letting the cool water run over and wash them down the drain without another thought. The sickening stench of bile sitting in the porcelain bowl almost has her gagging once more, so she reaches over, pushes on the little silver lever, and flushes it down into the sewer pipes, never to be seen again.

Only then does she look at herself in the reflecting glass hung over the sink, not surprised when she sees dark bags under her eyes and unnaturally pale skin, no doubt results from lack of sleep and getting hit by an extreme wave of nausea so suddenly. Her lip trembles from the exertion, her eyes distant, stressed wrinkles creasing her forehead. What is happening? Why is it happening? Why are such terrifying thoughts invading her subconscious each time she goes to sleep?

Perhaps she can blame this one on the news she received yesterday, but that doesn’t explain the strange symbol. Why would she draw such a thing? What does it even mean? And what about the buzzing noise? It’s accompanied each dream she’s had down here thus far, and it made itself apparent before and during she was heaving her lungs out yesterday. It also started when she saw that figure in the woods earlier. Is it connected to something?

She rubs at her eyes listlessly and pushes herself away from the sink at once, switching the light to the bathroom off and wandering back into the living room at a pace much slower than normal. Her eyes trail up from the floor to Marshmallow, who sits on the arm of the couch, eyes narrowed as he stares at her with dilated pupils. Maybe this should worry her; after all, animals can sense things that humans can’t. But she can’t bring herself to care very much. She just wants it all to stop. She doesn’t want to be sick 24\7, or have nightmares far worse than what’s considered healthy, or be on the look-out constantly for something that’s possibly hunting her down.

She flops onto the couch rather sluggishly and runs her hands through her messy hair, gaining sight of the large symbol that she seemingly sketched onto the paper for unknown reasons. Come to think of it, her hand is beginning to cramp due to how tightly she had been holding that pencil after she woke up, and who-knows-how-long before then. Does she have an illness? Is there medication to cure it? Should she go to a doctor and explain her symptoms? She’d prefer to wait and get medical attention, if it is necessary, once she returns home, so she won’t burden her grandparents with her problems and cause them to worry.

She knows for a fact that her parents wouldn’t give it much thought if she told them she needed to go to the doctor, nor would they be very concerned. If she told them the reason, having hallucinations, nightmares, irrational and paranoid thoughts, insomnia, they’d probably call her behavior ridiculous and refuse to allow her to make an appointment. Or would they? She is still their daughter— surely they couldn’t just brush aside something like that, right?

Then again, her father did it with the murder of his sister and the disappearance of his nephew, so she can’t ever be sure. But what about her mother? Isn’t the whole maternal instinct thing still there with her? If her child was hurt or scared, isn’t it natural to be worried?

She glances over at her phone, still sat on the coffee table charging, unable to rid herself of the sudden thought that creeps into her mind. Somebody to talk to would be nice. But would she actually listen?

Sure, her grandparents are just upstairs, but not only does she not feel like making that trek all the way to the second floor, but both her Nana and Pops are likely fast asleep. They've done more than enough for her already, and they have enough stress on their shoulders as it is. She wants to avoid troubling them with anything else and make them unnecessarily frantic about her health, both physical and mental.

Reaching out a hesitant, mildly trembling hand, she unplugs her phone and unlocks it, scrolling to contacts and swiping her thumb along the screen until she sees 'Mom'. Should she really? What if she disturbs her? Or wakes her up? Even if she did, that shouldn't be an issue once she hears about her daughter possibly having some mental illness that needs to be fixed.

Mental illness is a strong way to word it. She shakes her head, continuing to stare at the call icon that pops up once she clicks her mother's contact. It's just... stressed hallucinations. Or... or strange coincidences. Yeah, that's all.

Letting out a soft sigh, she presses the green button and brings the small device to her ear, hearing it ring several times as the anticipation in her heart grows. Is this a mistake? Should she back out? Maybe she's making a big deal over nothing.

"Hello?" She sucks in a sudden breath, heart rate increasing as the familiar voice meets her ear. How should she start this?

"Um... hi, Mom." Clear anxiety is present in her tone, though she hopes that it isn't as noticeable as she thinks.

"Y\n? What is it?" There's a hint of irritation hidden in that sentence, but the girl tries to ignore it and instead focuses on the reason she called her in the first place.

"Y-yeah, uh... I need to talk to you."

"About what? You know I'm busy. If it's more questions about your father, you know I—"

"No, Mom, it isn't about Dad." She's silent a moment as she hears her mother's soft breaths over the line, trying to collect her thoughts and put them into words. "It's... it's about me."

"...Well? Did you make another painting or something?"

She shakes her head, though she knows it can't be seen. "It's... weird things that have been happening to me. I-I don't know what's going on but it's really getting to me, and I feel sick and tired and stressed out. I don't know what to do."

"What exactly has been 'happening' to you, Y\n?" Her hand tightens slightly around her phone and she lets out an inaudible sigh.

"It started out with bad dreams... really bad dreams. Of people being dead, or freaky voices, or strange markings in a tree. A-and I've been seeing things in the middle of the night, or even in the day. I can't sleep because it's so scary and I'm afraid that when I go to sleep I'll have another nightmare..."

"Y\n," An exasperated sigh erupts from the other end. "aren't you a little too old to be scared of bad dreams or the boogeyman?" It's as if a knife is shoved into her chest from the harsh words of her mother, and she fights the tears stinging her eyes, attempting to keep her voice steady.

"Mom, it... i-it isn't like that."

"You used to complain to me all the time about bad dreams when you were a kid. You aren't a kid anymore, Y\n. You're almost seventeen."

"It's more serious than just dreams, Mom—"

"Grow up. You're a teenager, Y\n. Act like it." The girl swallows hard and lands her hard gaze on the floor, unable to stop the tears from slowly rolling down her cheeks.

"You're not even listening to me!" She keeps her voice in a whisper but raises it slightly to make sure she gets the older woman's attention. "This isn't some stupid childhood fear. It's something bad, and it's really affecting me..."

"I don't have time for this. I have about a weeks' worth of papers stacked up on my desk and I have to do them. You'll get over yourself eventually and stop being so childish. Goodbye, Y\n." Before she can say anything else, a beep is heard before the line goes dead, signifying that her mother hung up. What else was she expecting? Sympathy? Concern? Reassurance? She should've known better.

"Fine," she snaps, slamming her phone down on the couch beside her and releasing a huff, "who needs you anyway?" She plants her face into the palms of her hands to stifle the quiet whimpers emanating from between her lips. "I have myself and that's all I need. You're just a... a useless, irresponsible, incompetent piece of crap for a mom." Her fingers run through her h\c locks and she shakes her head, trying to compose herself. "Why are you even a mom..."

Of course her mother would blow her off. Her very own flesh and blood, brush her aside as if she means nothing to her. It's what she's been doing for years now, so why would she expect any different? I'm stupid. I'm stupid for assuming she would be worried. She doesn't care about me. She just doesn't care. She never does.

Soon, her shoulders are shaking as sobs wrack her body. She has to go through this alone, doesn't she? Her parents won't help her, her grandparents don't need that kind of pressure. None of her friends, if she can even call them that anymore, can help her. And they wouldn't. She's the one that left them behind, and they owe her nothing.

She shakily stands to her feet, wiping away the tears with the back of her hands in order to clear up her vision so she doesn't trip over anything, and begins her ascent up the stairs, not caring to bring her phone and instead only turns off the lamp as she passes it by. She walks warily up the staircase, doing her best to avoid looking anywhere but the ground for fear of seeing something lurking in the darkness until she reaches her bedroom, thankful that the light was left on previously.

She's unsure if Marshmallow will even follow her this time and bring her some kind of company, though, considering the aggressive way he was acting just minutes ago, she highly doubts it. Her gaze falls onto her bed, then onto the window that it's attached to, unable to quell the rush of anxiety that goes through her chest. The last time she was in here, she saw... something. What was it? A trick of the light? No, surely not. It was too... strange to be a trick of the light. Not to even mention the droning that formed in her mind while she looked at it. The same kind of droning that was present in her dreams, and at the river with Jack.

Is this normal? If it was, you'd think there would be more talk about it. In blogs, on the news, in books. But she's seen no such thing. Shaking her head in dismay, she steps farther inside, edging her way toward the window and anticipating what may be standing on the other side of the glass. She takes in a deep breath, hoping to calm her nerves a bit and brace herself before peering around the corner, over past her bed, and straight through to the dark woods across from the cottage.

She scans the treeline, her heart rate slowing down when she doesn't find anything out-of-the-ordinary and releases a puff of air she didn't know she was holding in, her muscles relaxing slightly. Nothing. There's nothing, so maybe, she can actually go to sleep without having to worry about anything creeping around. She doesn't want to sleep, but she doesn't want to get sick, again, either. Although that may happen anyway if she has another unexplainably terrifying dream. She can only hope that she'll get lucky and her mind will give her a break, at least for the rest of the night.

She doesn't know what time it is, and she can't gather up the energy to check. It doesn't even matter, does it? She glances over at her lamp, silently debating on whether she should turn it off to both save electricity and hopefully hide her position to anything that may be waiting outside, or if she should leave it on to give her peace of mind. She hasn't really liked sleeping with the light on, not since she was a small child, but recently it's sounded a lot more comforting than being surrounded by pitch blackness, save for the moonbeams shining in through the window and spilling out onto the floor.

What's better, hiding or feeling safer? Maybe there's a way she can compromise and do both. Her eyes avert around the room, eventually landing on the closet across from where she's facing. Could she do that...? Wouldn't that corner her? But it would be safer than sleeping in front of a window where some cryptic being can plainly see me. She remembers seeing a couple of spare blankets folded up on a shelf, and she could use her pillows as both a headrest and a weak attempt at a barrier. As unappealing as it sounds, staying in clear view of whatever is currently trying to get into her head sounds even less so. Closet it is.

She steps over and opens the door, switching on the light and glimpsing around for a good, somewhat comfortable spot to take shelter in. Under the clothes? No, too tight. In the little cabinet of old, stored things belonging to her aunt? Again, too tight. She decides on the opposite end of the closet, in-between a shelf and the wall, not too cramped but not too open either. And she'd be able to see the door clearly. That'll work.

She grabs the two pillows from off of her bed, plus an oversized teddy bear that had been originally sitting in the corner of the room, untouched, and goes back into the walk-in storage room, placing all three items in her self-proclaimed area of safety, before also taking a folded-up blanket from the small stack and tossing it onto the pillows. She releases a yawn, blinking slowly afterward and shutting the door behind her prior to double-checking the room for anything else she may need, only finding her water bottle, and switches off the lamp.

She sets it on the floor and shifts around everything until it meets her intentions, dimming the overhead light on the lowest setting, then walks back over and sits down, wrapping the blanket around her b\t frame, leaning against the wall, and tucking the large stuffed bear into her side. This is good. She feels secure here. There is nothing that can get in here without her knowing about it first... unless it's a hallucination. Then she can't escape. "I guess that's where you come in, Fuzzy," she mutters, hugging the bear half her size to earn some type of reassurance and consolation she had failed to get from her mother.

She stares ahead of her, at the closed door, waiting to hear something. Waiting to hear the creak of floorboards or the stamp of footsteps, or see the knob to the door slowly twist as it swings open. But one minute passes, then two, then five, then eight. Nothing of the sort happens. She just stays there, her breathing leveling out the more time passes, and she finds herself becoming relaxed. Maybe she should sleep in a closet more often...

She snuggles into the soft, though mildly dusty, coat of the bear, inhaling its old, washed-out scent of vanilla and allowing her eyes to droop. "Protect me if the 'boogeyman' comes in here, alright?" Her voice comes out as no more than a whisper, indirectly mocking her mother's previous choice of words to describe her state before fluttering her eyes closed and drifting off into a surprising, though thankfully peaceful, sleep.

___

His footsteps are almost inaudible as he walks through the darkened forest, his senses heightened due to the gloom around him. He's always more active at night, and it's been that way since... well, since the incident took place, all that long ago. Or was it even that long ago? He supposes it feels longer than what it actually is, probably because off of everything that's happened the past few years. But in reality, it's only been, what... eight, nine years ago? He was only seventeen at the time, and physically, he always will be. If he had been able to fulfill his career choice and live a normal life without meeting her, then he would be around twenty-six.

Maybe he'd have a girlfriend, heck, maybe he'd have a wife, although becoming a doctor takes years of dedication so he doubts that he would have the time to put that much commitment into a relationship. Either way, he would be happy. He wouldn't have to worry about being hunted by some otherworldly entity, or stocking up on the less-than-desirable diet his body has unfortunately given him. He wishes he could have something normal for a change... like pizza. He would just about kill for some pizza, preferably supreme, but pepperoni would work, too.

He shakes his head in disregard at his own thoughts, knowing more than anyone that pizza wouldn't ever happen, just like enchiladas wouldn't happen, or cheese sticks, or even something simple like cereal. It isn't possible, and though he accepted that long ago, he still gets certain cravings for things he used to enjoy. If he even tried eating them, now, he'd be sick for a week. One of the many disadvantages of being him. If only, right?

He checks the map on his phone that Ben had sent him about two hours prior, the direction he was supposed to go marked with bright red ink and making it pretty hard to miss. Let's see, he already passed the river, and he knows she took a certain trail to get to it. Just which trail did she take? He would follow footsteps but there's too much grass obscuring the actual dirt beneath, and even though he can see to a point, his vision has still been drastically altered, so he can't make out any pristine details.

He makes a turn and comes across an overgrown area of the trail he's been sticking with, though it looks like it's already been walked through several times. Up ahead a few feet is what looks to be a dirt road and past that sits a quaint property with a white picket fence, a garden, and a gate. This is the place he's been searching for, right? Guess there's only one way to find out.

Will great stealth, he slinks out from behind the trees, creeping across the natural driveway and up to the house, where he hopes his target is currently resting inside. If she's awake, it would make his job quite a bit harder, and he doesn't want to take any lives if it's unnecessary. Once he's directly in front, he scans possible entry points that wouldn't draw attention. A window? Sure, if the front door isn't locked. He quietly jiggles the knob after opening the screen, only to find that yes, the door is locked. Just his luck, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't expecting it.

He peers in through the first window he sees on the bottom floor, quickly realizing that it leads to the living room. All of the lights are off, and it doesn't look like anybody is currently active. Releasing a silent breath from his nose, though instantly being hit with a familiar bout of hot air thanks to his mask, he slips his fingers beneath the rim, briefly tugging upward and being grateful when the window slides up without much struggle.

There's a table placed in front of it, but he can easily maneuver over that. Conquering obstacles is something that he's mastered over the years of breaking and entering other peoples' households, so one measly table shouldn't halt his process too much. With one hand, he holds the strap of his satchel that's been thrown over his shoulder in order to anchor it to his side to make sure it doesn't make any noise, and with the other, he grips the side of the wall, skillfully propping himself up and slipping through the now-open space lacking so much as a thud.

Once his feet hit the carpet beneath them, he does a quick one-eighty of the room, wanting to make sure he isn't disturbing anything by making his appearance, and closing the window when he deems the coast clear. She never mentioned anything about having a dog, or any other kind of pet when he talked to her, then again he didn't exactly ask her about it, either. Maybe he got lucky this time.

Thought too soon, Jack, he thinks as he finally notices the fluffy white feline perching on the back of the couch, ears folded back as it quietly growls at him. Of course it's a cat. It couldn't have been a bunny, a gerbil, or even a ferret, no. It had to be a freaking cat. When he was still human, he was never particularly fond of them, but now he hates them with a passion. They get under his feet when he's trying to work and trips him, they scratch and bite him, they latch on and it takes a lot of force to get them off. Granted, he can and does get rid of them pretty easily, but they're still obnoxious little creatures.

But he has to admit, as bad as cats are, dogs are even worse in these types of situations. At least cats stay quiet. Dogs, however, he can't get dogs to shut up. Especially little ones, like Chihuahuas and Pomeranians. God, those things love barking. How could anyone want to put up with something that isn't even cute barking constantly? He isn't Smile's biggest fan, but he puts his barking to use. And he never gets in his way. At least he can respect bigger dogs for that very reason because they actually protect rather than just yap all the time.

He huffs, brushing the insignificant thoughts aside and walking farther into the living room, ignoring the growls of protest from the cat attempting to defend its territory and making it very clear to Jack who this place belongs to. Not that he cares, he just wants to get in and back out without much trouble. As he passes the couch, something catches his attention. Not only is there a phone lying discarded on the cushion, but there also seems to be a pencil, and beside it is a sketchbook.

He leans down a bit to get a better look, seeing and instantly recognizing the large symbol drawn—or more like scribbled— on the piece of paper, completely overriding the original picture beneath it. Not much care seems to have been taken while it was being created, which is normal if it was made during the frantic state that he imagines it to have been made in. It's been apparent to him that Y\n was being greatly affected by him, but now she's to the point of drawing his symbol, his mark? That isn't good. His stomach does an uncomfortable flip, and he spins around, going up the staircase of the house after making sure there are no bedrooms down here with him.

The hallway on the second floor likely leads to various rooms, his only problem is looking discreetly into each one and identifying his target. He chooses to check the first door on the left, the door inexplicably wide open, only to find a nicer than average girly room. He assumes this to be where Y\n is sleeping, but to his slight surprise, he doesn't see her in the bed. Well... maybe she's staying elsewhere? But why would there be bags on the floor if there was nobody staying inside? Is this someone else's room?

He peeks back out into the hallway, seeing what he recognizes as a bathroom unoccupied right beside a closed door, likely one leading to another bedroom. And at the very end of the corridor is a door also closed. Which one of these rooms leads to her grandparents? Is he even in the right house? He has to be. Unless he's just conveniently landed himself in the home of another individual that's being mentally tormented by the ominous creature, which is highly doubtful. They would know about it.

He hears the sudden squeak of a door as it opens, and just barely catches a glimpse of a masculine figure stepping out into the hallway before he darts back into the previous bedroom, ducking for cover inside of what he assumes is a closet. He closes the door softly behind him, being careful not to make any sound whatsoever, and takes a step back, only just starting to notice the dim lighting around him. He tilts his head up, seeing a light bulb attached to the ceiling, and confirming that it's the source of the light. The question is, why would the closet light be on when virtually every other light in the house is turned off?

Looking back and into the small walk-in closet, he sees a figure curled up in the corner, bundled up in a blanket and hidden behind the clothes hanging in front of her. She's holding tightly onto what looks like a large teddy bear, her eyes are closed, and her breathing is mellow and steady. She's asleep. Good.

He's been getting to her. She must've thought the closet was safer than anywhere else. He eases closer to her, squatting down in front and making sure to not wake her up. Getting a better look at her face, he can tell that she most certainly is the girl he's been trying to find, and quietly opens his satchel, sticking his hand inside and pulling out a needle and a small, clear bottle of a powerful anesthetic. It isn't his go-to method, usually, he would use Midazolam or even Chloroform, but then again, he isn't currently trying to sedate one of his victims, he just wants to knock her out long enough to bring her back, all without harming her in the process.

He sticks the end of the needle into the lid of the glass container after properly sanitizing it, draws the correct amount needed for the injection, and puts the bottle back into the bag. He snaps his fingers in front of her face in order to test how deep of a sleep she's in. It would be hazardous if she woke up as the mediation was being given to her, it would also be mildly frustrating and make his job even more strenuous. Thankfully, her eyes don't even flutter, giving him the leeway he needs to lightly take her arm, twist it around, stretch it, and stick the end of the needle through her skin.

He notices when she flinches, but only slightly, and he begins to inject the sedative into her system. He had no trouble locating a blood vein, as he could hear the blood coursing through her arm from several feet away; yet another ability he possesses that makes people fear him. Most could compare him to a vampire, what, with his unnaturally sharp teeth and his constant craving for human blood. It isn't his fault, it never has been. But he's learned to accept it, no matter how disgusting it may be to others.

His intention is that it will keep her knocked out for around two hours, preferably four or five, in case he runs into any delays. This particular bottle of medicine is the only one he has that causes longer-lasting unconsciousness without any life-threatening symptoms, and he got it by mixing Propofol with another mild, over-the-counter drug with lengthy repercussions. Perhaps not the best thing to use, but oh well, it's all he has at his grasp. He isn't actually a doctor, no matter how much he may be treated like one.

He slides the needle out of her arm, places it into a Ziplock bag, and puts the bag into his satchel, looking down at her when he senses movement. She rubs the area that the drug was injected through, eyes only half-way open as she brings her arm up to her chest, likely wondering where the small twinge of pain came from so abruptly. He stays still, waiting to see if she'll notice his presence or just go back to sleep. It won't be too much of an inconvenience, either way, considering the medicine should be taking effect in the next couple of minutes.

She blinks slowly, shifting around in her position to get more comfortable, and landing her bleary gaze on the startling figure squatting directly in front of her. Letting out a strangled gasp, she tries to crawl backward, though the wall pressed up against her back prevents that and gives him the opportunity to reach out and force his hand against her mouth, muffling her yelps of protest. He can almost swear that her skin gets pale as she takes in his unusual features; a reaction he isn't phased by at all. He's a monster, right? It's only natural to fear him.

She grabs at his wrists, attempting to push him away and twisting her legs out of the blanket covering her body to try and get a good kick in. Only when she frees her legs does he lunge forward and straddle her, stopping any attempts she may have made to harm him, and looks directly into her wide, panicked eyes with his black, tar-dripping sockets.

"Calm down," he instructs in a quiet, yet authoritative voice, putting more of his weight on top of her as her striving to escape gradually increases. She thrashes, pulls at his arms, punches his chest, though he makes sure to keep his neck craned back to avoid getting hit in the face. Even with his mask on, offering a layer of protection, it wouldn't exactly feel good. He knows this from experience.

She tries screaming and yanking her head out of his strong grip, though fails, and can't stop her eyes from watering from the utter terror that rushes through her.

"You're okay, just calm down." He keeps his tone gentle, knowing the thoughts that must be racing through her mind at lightening speed and wanting to make this easier on himself. The faster the drug works, the quicker he can get out of here and go back to the base. She doesn't listen to him, either that, or she's physically incapable of listening with the erratic beating of her heart thumping in her ears and briefly deafening her.

They both sit there for another couple of minutes, her struggling getting weaker the groggier she gets until eventually, her eyes hesitantly close and her body goes limp. Before he does anything, he needs to make sure that one guy—probably her grandfather— went back to bed after using the restroom. Jack knows he was, indeed, in the bathroom because he heard the toilet flush from the other side of the wall, though he didn't hear any footsteps.

Stealthily, he stands to his feet, walks out of the closet, and looks out into the hall just in time to see the bedroom door close softly. Perfect. Now hopefully it will all continue going as smoothly as it has been so far. He returns to the closet, taking her hands and pulling her motionless body up, and wrapping his arms around her torso before she can fall back down. Making sure he has a firm hold on her waist, he bends down, allows her body to drop over his shoulder and across his back, before standing back up, tightening his grip around her and quickly adjusting to the extra body weight as he turns and steps out of the closet.

Hoody never told him to grab any of her things, so he assumes that he'll take care of that himself, even though he's not sure how. Is he going to sneak into her house to take them, or just get one of the girls to pick up a whole new wardrobe? Those questions are meaningless right now, he supposes, and he doesn't let it take up too much of his time before dismissing them altogether and making his way cautiously down the staircase, the girl slung over his shoulder making it a little more difficult than it normally would be.

His hand slides down to her thighs as he comes up in front of the door, and he uses his other one to soundlessly unlock it, not willing to go back through the window with the unconscious girl and take a chance on alerting the other members residing in the household of his presence, drop her, or both, so he opts to go harmlessly through the door. Twisting the knob, he eases the door open, then the screen, inwardly wincing when it lets out a rather loud and obnoxious squeak.

Not wanting to stick around and take any chances on being heard, he hurries out onto the porch, softly shutting the door and screen behind him, and quickens his pace once he's out of the yard and through the gate. He scans the treeline, making sure there's nothing insidious waiting for him inside, before taking his original path and pulling out his phone. He clicks on Hoody's contact and presses the phone to his ear, waiting for the ringing to stop.

"Did you do it?"

"Yeah, I got her. I'm coming back now."

#Creepypasta #Marble Hornets #reader #Creepypasta x reader #Eyeless Jack #Hoody #Brian Thomas #Jack Nichols #Slenderman #the Operator #Operator symbol #Eyeless Jack x reader #Creepypasta fanfic

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rhyolight · 4 years ago

Note

Well, I do remember one of the asks I sent. I wanted to know how the creepypastas would react to being trapped in a submarine deep in the ocean together. (probably either Jeff’s or Toby’s fault they end up there in the first place. If you’d like you can come up with how it probably happened) also can we give bloody painter some attention please -ゆう

I’m glad that this ask went through, and I’d be happy to add in the bloody painter! I hope that this is good, I realized that I have forgotten about the bloody painter quite a bit, so I tried to make him pretty important to the story. I hope you enjoy! I know that I initially thought that this would take me a day or two, but I’m not tired so I finished it now. Something that you may notice is that I did not write Toby with his tics, and while I acknowledge that they are an important part of his character, I didn’t write them as I don’t feel that I have a firm enough grasp on how to write tourettes, and I didn’t want to accidentally offend anyone if I got something very wrong I am doing my research to make sure that I can write it respectfully, but as of now I don’t think that I am fully capable of writing an accurate representation.

How did they get here? Well, it probably was Toby’s fault, or as he’d tell Tim, only 50% his fault. Because

“Jeff started it!”

According to Toby, Jeff told him that Tim wanted him to steer the submarine to the right. It was an absurd lie of course, as Toby had strictly been banned from the control room by Tim himself. So somehow the submarine had gone deeper, only to get wedged under a rocky ledge on the bottom of the ocean floor. The pressure from the depth was starting to give Tim a headache, and Toby’s blubbering certainly didn’t help. He snapped at Toby to go gather the others and bring them to the dinning room for a “meeting,” although the way he said it meant that it would mostly consist of Tim yelling. Still, Toby rushed out of the room, eager to escape Tim’s wrath, if only for a moment.

When they were all gathered together, it only became apparent how problematic this could be. Many of the pastas had been grumpy about attending the meeting, Helen complained that his paint would dry, Ben fretted that his computer would somehow break in his absence, and there was an overall air of discomfort.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we're stuck.”

Tim stated, only conforming what had been suspected. A few began to ask questions, but Tim cut them off.

“Apparently Jeff told Toby that I told him to go steer the submarine, despite him being banned from the control room unless he was the last person left alive.”

“But Jeff said it was an emergency!”

Toby burst out, but to his dismay, the others only rolled their eyes.

“And were you the last person alive?”

Tim snarled, his temper flaring,

“Well, no, but jeff said-”

“I don’t care what Jeff said the point is we're stuck!”

Toby galred at Jeff who was smirking, but he felt a twinge of satisfaction when Tim turned to Jeff.

“Why did you tell Toby to go there? What on earth made you think that would be a good idea?”

Jeff shrugged,

“I didn’t think he’d be dumb enough to do it.”

Toby stood up, about to interject, but at that point the room seemed to erupt in yelling. Everyone had something to say, and nobody wanted to wait their turn. Tim kept yelling, trying to get everyone to calm down, but it only made things worse as the situation grew more chaotic. A few of the quieter pastas, Helen, Sally, and Jack, slipped out of the room, as the noise was getting to be too much. Toby could tell that Liu was gone as well, with Sully in his place, judging by the way he was yelling. The noise was getting to be too much for Toby as well, so when he saw Brian follow the others he headed after him.

He walked through the twisting halls of the submarine, walking quietly, he didn’t want to be told to go away. He found the others in the room of a very annoyed bloody painter. Helen glared at him irritably as he walked in the door, he had clearly meant to escape the mess so he could paint in peace, but Jack and Brian were sitting on the floor, with Sally facing them on the bed. As he walked in the door, the others gave him an annoyed look, he pretended not to see it, and he sat down next to Sally, the springs in the mattress creaking under his weight.

“Do you really have to be here?”

Helen asked, swishing a paintbrush in a jar of water to clean it. Brian shrugged, and Helen turned back to his art without another word. The swishing of the brush was the only thing that filled the silence until Toby spoke up,

“So, what exactly are we going to do?”

Brian sighed, leaning his chin on his hands.

“Well, we have to get the submarine unstuck somehow, and you can’t reason with Tim when he gets like this.”

He didn’t have to elaborate. They all knew that the normally level headed Tim would not listen to reason when he lost his temper. So it was up to them. Toby wanted to help, he really did, especially since he felt responsible, but he didn’t know anything about any sort of technology, much less submarines, thus the reason he had been banned from the control room.

“Well if Toby hadn't touched the controls maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess and I could paint in peace.”

Helen snapped, breaking the silence as he slammed his paintbrush down angrily.

”I’m sorry,”

Toby whispered,

“I really didn't mean to break anything.”

“Well, the damage has been done.”

Jack pointed out,

“Arguing over who did it won’t help us now.”

Brian looked up,

“Jack’s right, and if we don;t figure out something soon we’ll be in trouble. We could run out of food, or the submarine could start to leak.”

This seemed to make Sally nervous, and her legs began to swing, hitting the sides of the bed with a thunk thunk sound. Toby reached out a hand to stop her before the noise annoyed Helen. Brian looked up and noticed the young girl’s distress.

“Sally, why don’t you go to your room? I promise we’ll get everything figured out.”

She nodded and got up slowly, then fled, clutching her bear in her hand as her feet padded down the hall. Once she was out of earshot, Brian’s expression turned grave.

“I haven’t been to see the damage myself, but from the way Tim’s yelling it’s pretty bad.”

Toby nodded in agreement, he remembers the sickening jerk as the submarine had halted, accompanied by a loud scraping sound. That was what had led Tim to investigate and discover Toby in the control room.

“Should we go inspect the damage?”

Brian asked, rising to his feet. Toby nodded as he stood, and Jack rose as well. After a bit of nagging, they persuaded Helen to come with them as well, but he insisted on grabbing his sketchbook because he worried that they would be boring.

As they walked, Toby noticed that Jack now walked with confidence. At first, he had walked around the boat making high pitched whistles and clicks as a form of echolocation, and while it had been annoying, it was impressive. Toby had tried it once, only it hadn’t worked and he’d run face first into a wall.

As they got towards the end that had gotten stuck, the temperature seemed to drop and the air grew damp.

“That’s a bad sign.”

Brian muttered under his breath, and they picked up the pace, walking quickly towards the now apparent sound of dripping water. They stepped into the room, and the others seemed to shiver. The air was significantly colder, and the source of the problem was obvious. The top was dented, and a few small cracks had appeared, just barely visible, you wouldn’t have known they were there had there not been the dripping of water slowly forming puddles on the floor.

Jack let out a chirp towards the water pooling on the floor and frowned, he obviously didn’t like whatever information he had gathered. Helen, who somehow managed to look exceedingly bored with the whole ordeal, was standing a few steps away, drawing. Toby fidgeted, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater ad Brian stepped closer, craning his neck to get a better look at the ceiling. The water kept dripping a Brian turned abruptly.

“We need to find a way to stop the leak. The rocks are wedged tightly against the side, they’re helping keep the water out, once we move the submarine who knows how much water will leak in.”

As he turned and began to leave the room, Toby and Jack following close behind, Helen held up his sketchbook for the others to see. Complex diagrams had been drawn, ones that Toby recognized from the control room, as well as a sketch of the puddles the water dripping from the ceiling. He gave the book to Jack, and Toby noticed that he had used the lead of his pencil to create ridges on the edges of the drawing. Jack ran his finger over the diagrams, but what he learned from them was a mystery to Toby. Jack nodded before silently handing the book back to Helen, who closed it and tucked it under his arm.

“Well, what do you think? You did take a few classes in engineering once, didn’t you?”

Brain asked. Jack frowned deeply thinking,

“I did, but it was a long time ago,”

he muttered.

“I’m not sure how much I’ll remember.”

“Well do your best, our lives may depend on it.”

Jack nodded, but by that point Brian was already out the door, walking swiftly down the hall towards the closet where they kept everything that they could possibly need for repairs. Ben caught up to them as they reached the door.

“Tim sent me to find you, do you think you can fix it?”

“We can try.”

Ben nodded,

“Once the submarine is patched, I’m going to try to steer us out. The computers got messed up in the crash, but I think I can hold it together if you can keep this thing watertight.”

Toby looked down at his feet guiltily as Ben raced back towards the control room. Brian rummaged along the shelves, Helen whispering to Jack, describing what there was available. At first, Toby was hopeful. Maybe Jack could fix the submarine and Ben could get them home, and once Tim calmed down all would be forgiven, but his hopes began to fade as Jack’s frown deepened. Helen seemed to be growing impatient.

“Surely there must be something here that you can use.”

He snapped.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one here?”

Luckily, Jack didn’t seem to be bothered by Helen’s comment, as he was more focused on running his hands along the materials on the shelves.

“I practice medicine, not mechanics, and while it’s true that I did take a few classes in engineering, I was never taught how to fix a submarine.”

Yet his calm,only added to the bloody painter’s annoyance. He began grabbing things and shoving them into the arms of Brian, Jack, and Toby.

“Here, duct tape and super glue. It’ll fix anything.”

He muttered. Jack didn’t look so sure, but they didn’t seem to have anything better, so they grabbed all that they could carry and took off running. Helen came a minute later with a ladder resting on his shoulder, and the group raced down the halfway, their footsteps echoing desperately. When they reached the damaged room, the puddle had nearly doubled in size. Helen sloshed through it to the center, and he began to unfold the ladder and Jack began instructing Brian on what to do.

“I’d prefer to do it myself, but this is new to me, and you can see, I can’”

Brain looked hesitant, but there was no way that they would get Helen up there, meaning Toby was the only other option, and seeing as he was the reason they were stuck, it didn’t come as a surprise when nobody asked him to help. Instead, he grabbed some tape and glue and climbed up after Brian, their footsteps clanging on the rungs. He figured that he could at least help by holding the supplies while Brian worked.

Brian took off his hoodie and began to use it to dry some of the water, more leaked in, but he got off as much as he could. Then he began to spread glue around the cracks before sealing everything with duct tape. They added on more layers, and soon the water stopped coming through.

“Do you think it will hold?”

Toby asked as he passed another roll of tape up to Brian.

“I don’t know,''

came the reply ,in a voice coated with worry.

“It’s holding up for now, but there’s no way to tell what will happen once we start moving.”

“Should we try it?”

“We might as well, I think it’s good enough for now.”

Brian sighed as he climbed down after Toby, careful not to step on his fingers. Helen ran off with a splashing sound to tell Ben that they were ready to go, leaving Brian, Toby, and Jack alone with the pool of water on the floor to keep them company.

A few minutes later, the submarine began to lurch, nearly knocking them off their feet. As alarms began to blare, Toby stumbled backwards, slipping on the damp floor and crashing into the puddle. Brian turned at the noise.

“Are you ok?”

Toby scrambled to get to his feet as the boat continued to jerk back and forth.

“I’m fine, just lost my balance.”

Brian reached out a hand and pulled Toby clear of the puddle, which was nothing like the tranquil pond it had once been, as the wild movement of the submarine had caused the water to splash, creating the illusion of a stormy sea. They retreated to the the doorway where they looked up at the ceiling, Toby head Brian sucking in a breath as the ceiling buckled. You could see the indentation the rocks were making as the horrible wine of rock on metal filled the air.

“Well I hope you did a good job,”

Jack muttered, covering his ears. Just then, Helen returned with a walkie talkie, Ben’s voice floating out of the device.

“Is everything holding up?”

Brian grabbed it and pushed the button, wincing as another shrill wine shattered the once quiet atmosphere.

“It’s holding together so far, but be careful, if we’re not gentle, we could rip another hole in the submarine.”

Ben promised to be careful, and then silence fell. They stood there, tension rising as the boat scooted backwards at an agonizingly slow pace. The noise was bordering unbearable, but after a few especially harsh and jerky movements, the submarine appeared to be drifting freely again.

Toby looked up, expecting to see water come crashing down through some hole in the ceiling, but no new cracks had emerged, and while the makeshift patch was sagging under all of the weight, it held. The boat began to rise, the pressure in their ears decreasing as they ascended until Ben announced that they had reached the surface. They cheered, and headed to the control room.

Lights were flashing everywhere, and Ben was almost transparent, half in half out of the computers as he moved from place to place, carefully guiding the damaged ship.

“We should be safe now that we’ve reached the surface,”

Tim remarked upon their entry. Toby avoided his gaze, but he didn’t seem angry any more. He’d probably been worn out from all of the stress and yelling. And although Toby knew that he would be yelled at the next day, at least he would be alive to be yelled at, and not drowned at the bottom of the ocean.

Next time, he promised himself, I won’t listen to Jeff. And maybe I should learn a thing or two about submarines, just in case this happens again. As if he could read his mind, Tim shot Toby glare, but he was too lost in his thoughts to notice.

#story #my writing #my style #request #anon request #requested #ticci toby #myMH/CPcrossover #bloody painter #tim wright #brian thomas #jeff the killer #sally williams #eyeless jack #homicidal liu #creepypasta #mrble hornets

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horrorkingdom · 4 years ago

Text

Creepypasta

Barter

Marjorie had been lingering outside the nondescript metal door for nearly two hours, appearing to study the door and the faded sign above it. The Deli, it read in dusty script. Her coat was wrapped as tightly around her as the fraying fabric allowed, but still the winter air dug through it. The cold was not enough, however, to drive her out of the elements and through the door. Once or twice she approached it, hand shaking as it neared the handle, only to draw back at the last second as if the handle were a snake.

It should have been easier to enter the door the longer she waited, but it seemed to only grow immeasurably more difficult. It did not help that in her entire time waiting no one had entered or left the building. Had someone sallied up, opened the door, and safely entered into a cloud of inviting warmth, it may have lured her in. Similarly, the safe exit of any sort of person would have given her the assurance that one could brave whatever lay beyond. But the road was empty, and the door sat unmoving.

A particularly sharp gust of wind whistled down the abandoned alley, tugging at her coat and sending her tangled hair into a maelstrom. Her eyes watered at the cold, and she inched closer to the wall, hoping it would afford some protection. It was silly, she chided herself, spending all this time out in the elements. This was what had to be done. She was out of options, and her only hope lay beyond that door.

Yet Marjorie wondered if perhaps it was better to be hopeless than pay whatever price this hope would cost.

The streetlight flickered on overhead. Soon it would be dark, and then she would have to make a decision or risk staying on the unsafe streets at night. Being here in the middle of the day was dangerous enough—she would not be caught outside after dark.

That was the final shove she needed to overcome her inertia. With sudden resolve, she gripped the door handle. It flew open in her hands almost reflexively, for which she was glad. The metal was bitterly cold, seeming almost to burn her with its chill. Had the door not stood open, she would have again released it and likely vanished back to her home.

Inside was a nondescript, concrete hallway. A lonely yellow light filled the inside, leading to another door. This door was made of a dark wood and had a heavy brass knocker affixed to the middle. Marjorie’s steps echoed in the concrete chamber, coming to a sudden stop when the metal door groaned to a loud close. The weak, evening light was now gone, leaving her alone with only the single bulb. She had not realized how comforting it was to have that little bit of the outside world with her. With the door closed, even the distant sounds of traffic were cut-off.

Panic wrapped its claws around her throat. She felt her chest tighten with its serpentine grip; her heart thundered against her ribs. In that moment, instincts took over and she reverted to her most primitive response. Flee.

The echoes of her steps were a maddening flurry around her as she sprinted the fifteen feet back to the metal door. Her hands scrambled for purchase on the handle, only to find nothing but smooth metal. No handle on this side. The thunder of thousands of years of evolution continued to push her towards flight, and her fingers clawed around the metal door frame, hoping to find some crevice to pry open the door. Only there was again nothing. In the dim light afforded by the bulb, she could not make out a single seam. It was almost as if the door had sealed as soon as she entered. Her breaths now came in ragged gasps that did little to help her or calm her. Instead, the world seemed to swim before her. A mocking door, concrete walls. It was almost as if the walls were inching closer, activated on some cruel timer to pin her here forever.

All that she could hear was the flood of blood pulsing through her veins, the rapid fluttering of her heart frantically trying to escape, and the jarring sound of air ripping from her lungs before being shoved back inside. The walls acted as an echo chamber, reflecting her own terrified symphony back at her.

Deep breaths, she reminded herself. Just like those nights spent in the closet, deep breaths. She had to slow herself down if she was going to survive this. Slowing her breathing to a measured pace was akin to stopping a car with no brakes. She felt her lungs fight against the control, trying to maintain their breakneck pace despite her insistence. Overtime, however, she won out. The breaths were shaky, but calm, and her heart took its cue to return to its typical state of frenzy. The walls returned to their assigned places and stopped their dizzying journey.

Carefully, Marjorie ran her hands along the wall where the door stood, confirming that there was no seam that she could grip. It was a well-constructed door; there was not even a glimmer of dying afternoon light slipping through the bottom. If she could not back out now, she must go forward.

The hallway was not long, but she felt like a member of a funeral procession as she somberly made her way towards the door. Up close, she could see twisting, abstract shapes carved all over the door. They meant nothing to her, but she felt her breaths begin to hiccup again in her chest. Deep breaths, she repeated her only mantra.

Her hand was shaking as she placed it on the brass knocker. Unlike the door handle, this one was pleasantly warm to the touch. Inviting, almost. With a groan of rusted metal, she lifted it and rapped it quickly against the door. One, two, three. The door began to swing smoothly on its hinges after the third knock, opening onto a room filled with the murmur of quieted voices and wisps of strange smelling smoke. She stepped gingerly inside, feeling immediately out of place.

There were tables and booths scattered around the room. Marjorie did her best not to make eye contact or even look at them, keeping her eyes trained to the worn wood floor. She heard a few snickers, saw a couple hands point her out from their shadowy seats. Even as the large frames filled her periphery, she walked steadfastly towards the counter at the far end of the room.

Everyone in the room recognized immediately how out of place she was. While they were each bedecked in protective charms and talismans—some hanging from their necks, others etched into the scar tissue of their bodies—all she had was the flimsy barrier of her coat, still pulled tight around her against the now suffocating heat of the small room. She waked gingerly across the creaking floorboards, barely daring to breathe. They grinned and watched.

Marjorie approached the counter and lifted her eyes to see the attendant slouched on a stool behind the domed glass structure. Halfway to his face, her eyes froze on the contents of the display case. She assumed the rotted lumps inside had once been some sort of meat, though they were now covered in flies and maggots. Pooled, congealed blood covered the bottom surface, even seeping out and down to the floor. She followed the trail to see the red-stained, warped wood along the floor boards. Mouth agape and eyes wide, she was certain she saw a few eyeballs and fingers mixed in amongst the decay, but she tried to put it out of her mind.

“Want to try a sample?” came the mocking, gravelly voice of the attendant as he pulled open the door to the case. Immediately, a wave of putrescence poured out and enveloped Marjorie. She did her best to escape it, stumbling backwards and tripping over a warped floorboard. There was a low chuckle from those gathered around her, growing more and more quickly into a round of bawdy laughter.

She gagged, her stomach trying to force up the breakfast and lunch she had not eaten. It burned her eyes, starting them watering again. Her stomach having only been successful in ejecting a small amount of water she had nervously sipped at outside, her lungs took to coughing. Anything to get that stench away from her and out of her body.

There was the sound of a lock snapping into place as the attendant continued to laugh. She studied him briefly from her place on the floor behind watery eyes. He was filthy, covered in a layer of grime that made it impossible to tell his age. A tangled mess of dirt and wispy hair sat atop his head, falling into his beady eyes as he rocked back and forth with laughter at her predicament. His hands—stained and caked with muck—gripped the counter as long, yellowed nails scraped across the glass in time to his chuckling.

Marjorie did her best to pull herself together, rising from the floor and straightening her clothes as if that would restore her dignity. The smell had faded, now only a slight whiff of decay rather than the malodorous assault. That or her nose could no longer register the scent having burned out that sense for good. She threw her head back, eyes meeting the dark, glassy eyes of the man behind the counter.

“I’m here to speak with the owner,” she said in what she hoped was a confident voice. It did not help that it trembled and broke as she spoke. But at her words, a begrudging silence spread through the room.

The attendant snorted, a thick mucusy sound. For a moment she was afraid he was preparing to spit on her. Instead, he jerked one dirty finger to a paper ticket dispenser. “Take a number, then.”

With that, the attention on her seemed to fade. The low, grumble of conversation returned and she heard chairs scraping across the wood as the denizen’s returned to their intrigue. She walked over and gripped the dusty piece of paper delicately, as if afraid it might crumble to dust in her fingers. Perhaps this was another trick. Instead, the machine groaned and dispensed with a tiny slip. Number 43. She looked around for some sign that told her where she was. She had not seen anyone enter or leave today, so perhaps the line was long. But there was no such indicator.

“Excuse me,” she cautiously questioned the attendant, “how do I know what number is up?”

One eye turned to face her, the other stared out over the bar. “Take a seat and you’ll be called.” His eye flicked back to whatever it was between the counter and door that so raptly held his attention.

Marjorie gingerly picked her way over to an unoccupied table, acutely aware that her back was exposed to whatever kind of people liked to congregate in a place like this. She was certain that she could feel each individual eye raking over her back, sense spider-like appendages trace up and down her spine. Her hands were balled into knots, resting bloodlessly on her lap.

The minutes trickled by, marked only by the rise and fall of bawdy laughter. Marjorie kept her eyes focused on the table in front of her, trying to pick out patterns and shapes in the wooden surface. Trying to keep her mind from wandering too far from the task at hand. Somehow she knew that she could snap if forced to take in the reality of where she was and what she was doing. Instead, she focused on the next step. Meeting the owner and making her request.

The crack of a metal mug slamming onto the wooden table brought her eyes up, open wide like an animal caught in a snare. A woman stood across from her, tall and broad-shouldered. She had one bright green eye that studied Marjorie up and down. In place of her other eyes was a nasty incision, weeping a slight bit of pus, that bulged with dark stitches. Without being invited, the woman settled into the seat across from Marjorie.

“Me oh my, you don’t belong here, pretty thing,” she said in a hushed tone. Her eye was hungry. Marjorie sat silent as the woman studied her with a slight smile on her dry, swollen lips. “No, you aren’t meant to be here at all. What brings a little bird like you into a place like this?”

Marjorie focused her eyes back on the table. There was nothing she could say here that would keep her safe, and she knew that. She just needed to meet with the owner and make her request.

“A quiet one. Not going to sing for Lucy, eh? Come now, tell me what you need and I can help you get out of this place.” Marjorie’s silence prevailed. “We both know this is not a safe place for the likes of you. I’ve got a soft-spot for women, knowing how hard it is to be among this rabble myself. Just let me help you, dearie.”

Almost unbidden, Marjorie’s eyes lifted from the table and met the woman’s unnatural green one. It was beautiful, truly, even if it was nested within a hideous face. The green reminded Marjorie of the view from her bedroom window as a child on Easter morning. There was a small tree that grew just outside that always seemed to be absolutely covered in new leafs that shone with that bright, spring green. That was the color of the eyes. And it shone and sparkled like sunlight reflecting off water.

“There now, I’m sure we can work something out. I just know I can help you with whatever you need.” Lucy’s voice was a soft singsong, not the harsh growl of a dedicated chain smoker like before. “I even make sure my prices are fair, especially for a fair young thing like yourself.” Marjorie felt a hand on her knee, gently stroking. “Them pretty eyes of yours—they look like they’ve seen a world of heartache, eh? I could take care of those for you. You’d like that, yes?”

Eye fixated, Marjorie felt her head begin to bob slightly. To not see the horrors she had in her time, well, that would be nice.

“I see you like the idea,” Lucy’s face cracked open into a wide grin. “I thought you might. I’m good as seeing what people really need from me. I just need you to say it. Say you’ll give me those awful eyes of yours, and I’ll make sure you never have to see something so terrible again.”

Marjorie’s mouth opened, the very words on her lips, when a strong hand settled onto her shoulder. It smelled of leather and blood and gripped her shoulder hard enough to break the trance.

“Not going to let you have all the fun, Ol’ Luce. It’s not every day we get something so lovely in this dingy place.”

Marjorie felt dizzy and confused, as if time were moving at double again its normal pace. Her mind was slow in catching up to what was happening—what had almost happened—leaving her feeling as if she were lagging behind the rest of the world. Now Lucy was standing, measuring up to a formidable height, with anger in that lone green eye.

“I’ll not have you meddling, Thomas. She and I were nearly to a deal.”

“A deal you tricked her into, no less. Where’s the fun in that? Just weave your little spell, and she’ll say whatever you want. You’ve gone soft, Luce. I need to make you work for it.” His voice was soft, but firm. It seemed to cut through the background din like a razor, until it was the only thing she could hear. As Marjorie’s mind caught up with what had just nearly happened, she felt her heart begin to race. And then there was the hand on her shoulder, the firm grip beginning to hurt with its intensity.

The man bent over her shoulder, smiling. A long, black beard tickled against the skin of her neck, and she could smell the whiskey on his breath. “I’m afraid we have not been introduced, and I’ve already gone and saved your life. It’s a bad habit, I admit. My name is Thomas.” He extended his other hand towards her, the one on her shoulder growing tighter as she refused to shake. “Oh, we must be polite in an uncivil place as this, yes? What’s your name?”

Marjorie whimpered at the pain in her shoulder but fixed her eyes back on the table. She had to talk to the owner. She had to make her request.

“Back off and let her be, Thomas. I saw her; I made the first move. There’ll be others for you,” barked Lucy’s voice.

“Yes, but you didn’t close on the sale, now did you?” His eyes flicked away from Marjorie for just a moment, fixing Lucy with a cold gaze before returning with more warmth to Marjorie’s face. “You’ll find I’m much more direct. No need for silly games.” The hand moved smoothly from her shoulder, along the back of her neck. Suddenly, his fingers were wrapped through her hair, yanking her head back and exposing her throat. She felt something cold and sharp there, and barely dare to breathe. His smiling face leaned over hers, “How many years would you give me to keep this pretty little neck of yours attached?”

Marjorie heard a short laugh to her right, saw a slender man standing to the side. He stood just within her periphery, far enough back that she could only make out the vague shape of him. “Thomas, do be careful. There is plenty of her to go around if we just act with a little tact. I bet you could make some even better deals if you thought this through.”

“Oh no, you aren’t going to trip me up with that again. You swindled me out of everything last time.”

“You are right, it was a bit of a dirty trick. But surely you and Luce could work out some sort of a deal. You don’t need her eyes after all.”

Marjorie noticed the shadow of Luce appeared to turn and nod towards the man to the side, and she heard a very soft chuckle from him.

Thomas’ hands gripped her hair even more tightly. “You’re just mad that I got to her first, and this time I’m cutting you out!”

“Well, fine, but I fear it’s not just me you’ll be fighting against, Tom. A lot of us would like a piece of her.”

Thomas leaned back down by her ear, his words coming in a whispered frenzy. “Well, dear, looks like they’ll be taking you piece by piece. What do you say then? Give Ol’ Thomas whatever years you’ve got left? At least they’ll go to some sort of use, yeah?”

Marjorie heard grumbling in the room, the sound of chairs scraping along the wood, and a chorus of various metals meeting metal. There was a new tension in the uncomfortably warm room, a weight that pressed down all around her.

“Come on, times ticking, do we have a deal? You look like an altruistic soul. Help me out.” Footsteps coming close, a few short barks of anger. The intensity increased in his voice and he shook her head sharply. “They’ll cut out your tongue soon, so you best tell me now!”

Marjorie felt tears falling down her cheeks, a steady stream now pouring from her eyes. She had to speak to the owner. She had to make her request. Only she was not so sure she’d even get that chance.

Someone grabbed Thomas and the knife nicked her, drawing a thin line of blood far less lethal than it could have been. Marjorie dove under the table, trying to evade the arms that grabbed at her. There was the smell of blood in the room, and all the inhabitants had been suitably whipped into a frenzy. She was the lone fish drifting amongst the sharks.

A mug struck her temple, thick hands gripped and tugged at her arms, leaving angry red bruises that began to darken almost instantly. The rough floor scraped along her knees and arms as she crawled, filling her skin with tiny needling splinters. As she scrambled, kicked, and bit at any appendage that came her way, she noticed the tempo of the fray beginning to increase. No longer was she the main prize, but the fighters had turned on one another, vying for the chance to claim this lovely reward. They knew, of course, that she had nowhere to run. Finally, she found a corner to hide in, burying her head in her arms and trying to drown out the sound of the chaos around here. She needed to speak to the owner.

After what felt like hours of combat, the sounds of an opening door cut through the din. A sudden silence filled the room, minus the groaning of the incapacitated, and Marjorie began to sob. This was it. A victor had been named, and she was now the trophy to be parceled as he or she saw fit. She could not even lift her eyes to see which of the horrors in the room she would be left with.

However, something else broke the silence. “Number 43?” asked the calm voice of a young girl. Marjorie dared to barely lift her head, seeing the tiny figure standing in a doorway that had not existed moments before.

“Number 43?”

She scrambled to her feet, holding aloft the ticket she had somehow held onto during the fray. None of the remaining combatants—the war had obviously not been won quite yet—dared to touch her as she walked forward, towards the child in the doorway. Still, she shuddered and spooked as they milled about in the shadows. The girl motioned into the bright rectangle cut into the formerly intact wall, and Marjorie walked forward.

The door closed behind her, a parlor trick she was now used to. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust from the gloom of the waiting room to the warm light of this new area. It was a well-furnished office, completed with a large wooden desk and an assortment of alluring leather chairs. The scent of cedar mixed with the smell of the crackling fireplace in a way that reminded Marjorie of weekend trips to her grandad’s cabin. Silently, the young girl stepped against the wall behind Marjorie, next to what had been the doorway, but now was nothing more than another section of oak paneling.

The man behind the desk did not look up at first. He was busy tallying and writing in a thick ledger, seemingly uninterested in the bruised and bloody woman before him. After a few moments, he looked up with a friendly smile and closed the book firmly.

“Marjorie, pleasure to meet you finally. I see you got the traditional welcome from our guests? And not a one of them was able to make a deal with you! You must be made of some tough stuff.”

She nodded mutely, uncertain now of how to proceed. He simply smiled at her and gave her the time she needed to study him. His teeth were bright white—the only clean thing she had seen since entering the deli. His eyes were as dark as his teeth were white, but they appeared to be friendly. As he waited for her to speak, he knitted his fingers together in front of him, rolling his shoulder to straighten out the drape of his crisp suit coat. Every bit of him seemed to be polished and neat—a stark contrast to the room before.

“Are you the Devil?” she finally managed to squeak out, eyes wide.

He laughed, throwing his head back and letting the sound ripple around the room. It was a friendly, amused sound that put her at ease. “Oh no, nothing so boring as that.”

“But you can give people whatever they want.”

He composed himself, that same broad smile still on his face. “Well, of course I can. But there is much more to this world than your simple understanding of gods and devils. Don’t worry, Marjorie, this is no deal with the Devil. But do tell me, what is it you want?”

“I—I came here to—“ The words would not come. She had thought and thought about how she would tell her story, how she would describe the years of abuse, threats, and evil. She considered taking off her coat and showing him the pale yellow stains of old bruises, but they were now marred by fresh ones from the fray. She felt for the death certificate in her pocket, the name of her first son written on it. And now the words would not come.

He watched patiently, no hint of irritation at her pause. When she began to sob, he offered her the handkerchief from his front pocket.

“He told everyone I was drunk. That was how I fell down the stairs. That was why Mikey died.” The tears were coming more in earnest now, and she dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. “They all looked at me like a terrible mother, that I would be drinking while pregnant. They blamed me—if I had been sober, I wouldn’t have fallen and Mikey would have at least had a chance. No one believed me.”

“I don’t bring people back from the dead, Marjorie. Even I don’t meddle in things like that,” his voice was soft, almost as if moved by her tearful story.

She took that moment to compose herself, sniffing and wiping away the tears. “I know. That’s not why I’m here. I want you to kill my husband.” The words were out, blunt and dirty, before she realized what she was saying. This was not how the discussion was supposed to have gone.

His face brightened. “Oh, is that all you need? Well, that should be a relatively easy matter”

“You don’t understand. He’s a monster. It won’t be easy to kill him, but you have to. You have to kill him, because he’s a very bad person.”

“Marjorie, I don’t care who he is. He could be Hitler or the Pope reincarnate. All I care about is that you want him dead. And I can make that happen, no matter how ‘monstrous’ he might be.” He reached over and pulled an ornate ink pen from his desk. “I will need some details, like his name, address, distinguishing physical features. Also, would you like proof of death?”

Marjorie’s stomach churned at the thought of what she was doing. It was the only way, though. He had to pay for his crimes, and no one else was willing to do it. “No, I won’t need that. Everyone says you follow through on your deals.”

“Word of mouth is certainly the best advertisement for services such as mine,” he smiled that disarming smile again.

“Um, well, his name is David Bergen and his address is 1394 Windhaven Rd, Apt 1722. It’s in Topeka.” He continued writing and nodding. “He’s about six foot tall, a big bulky guy. Blond hair, brown eyes. He has some sort of tribal tattoo on the back of his neck, one of a skull on his right bicep. Is that enough?”

“Oh, that’s lovely. A wonderful description. I’ll dispatch someone right away,” he said, nodding to the small girl. Marjorie heard the door swing open behind her, then close quietly. “But, now that your terms are set, let us discuss what I shall get in return. A few rules. I don’t trade in souls—it is simply too much of a hassle to deal with, and the return is rather poor. I also don’t accept first born children,” at this, he nodded his head towards the spot the girl had been moment before. “I’ve done it once, but I’ve found children are not particularly useful.” There was a sudden cruel glint to his smile, “Besides, someone has already taken yours.”

Marjorie was silent, her fingers worrying over the hem of her jacket as if that would provide some solace in this moment. Her heart was pounding again, and she wondered if perhaps she was going to suffocate here in this office. The scents and furnishing that had seemed so lavish now felt oppressive. “But I can give you anything else, right?”

He paused to consider her comments. “I reserve the right to refuse any substandard trade. I won’t, for instance, take your pocket lint.” He chuckled appreciatively at his own joke. “But I accept most fair trades.” His demeanor turned more serious, perhaps even taking on a sinister air. He leaned forward over the desk, shadows growing across his face as he did so. “Think carefully now about what you’ll give me for this. Whatever you decide, you will think it is something you would never want back no matter how long you live. But once it’s gone, you’ll find you cannot live without it. You’ll yearn for it. You’ll do anything to replace it. You’ll take it. But it will never be enough, will always be shrouded in the filth of something borrowed. So make a wise choice, but know there is no wisdom that will save you. What will you give me?”

She thought long and hard, but she had spent days thinking about it already. She was almost certain she had thought of something that in no way could harm her, no matter what. In fact, she reminded herself, it would be a relief. She would be strong and brave then, not the timid girl that had entered. “My pain,” she finally answered.

He smiled eagerly, a response that made her suddenly uncertain. “Oh, yes, we have a deal! Pain is one of my favorites. And don’t come back here saying I didn’t warn you.” With that he clamped her hand in his and shook once. Marjorie felt as his grip began as an excruciating vice, then dwindled until she could barely even notice it. The aches and pains of her various cuts and bruises also dimmed before disappearing altogether.

As promised, with it gone, she also felt that absence acutely. It was a kind of nostalgia now, a prickling sense of something missing and a longing to return. This wasn’t so bad, she thought. Uncomfortable, certainly, but it must have been the right choice.

He still smiled. “You think it’s going to be easy. But that’s just the first taste. Give it time.”

“But,” there was a crackle in her voice. Sacrificing pain did not remove fear. “I can take away others’ pain now, right?”

His eyes simmered with glee, as if her altruism was a delicious appetizer. “Of course, my dear. And you most certainly will. Again and again, you’ll valiantly step in and take every ache from their bodies, dry the tears from their eyes. And someday that won’t be enough. You’ll hunger for more. So you’ll give them a little pain, only to take it away. Until that isn’t enough either. I told you, it will never be enough. You can try to drown yourself in the pain and agony of millions and never be satisfied.” His grin finally split into a restrained laugh, and he quickly reassembled his face into a look of mild amusement. The excitement glimmered in his eyes.

Lost in his eyes, in the long future stretching before her, in the half-perceived glimpse of the monster she would become, Marjorie barely noticed as the room faded from around her. The last thing to disappear were his eyes, and she blinked. She felt dazed, as if waking from a dream, as she stood the sidewalk and in the light of early dawn. Impossibly, she was standing in front of a nondescript brick building on the other side of town.

“Remember,” she heard his voice on the breeze, “the Deli is always open. I’m guessing you’ll have a table all your own soon enough.”

Credit: Katherine C

#creepy #horror #creepy photo #horror community #creepypasta #spooky stories #horror monsters #monster #the terror #horror kingdom

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crystalninjaphoenix · 4 years ago

Text

Scary Stories

A Horror Septics Short

“...and all that was left were the bones! Ooooo!” The teenage storyteller lowered the flashlight, looking around at his audience—three other teens, all of whom looked very unimpressed. “Well? Not even a ‘oh no’?”

“I saw that coming from a mile away, Derrick,” said one of the others, adjusting her pointed glasses.

“Oh come on.” Derrick frowned. “You could’ve at least pretended to like it.”

“Your voice isn’t really cut out for horror, anyway,” said another, poking the campfire with a stick.

“Well, can any of you do better?” Derrick looked around at the circle. The four friends were sitting on chairs, set around the central fire pit. There was a picnic table nearby with a kerosene lamp providing extra light, and a large tent big enough to fit all four of them. The campsite was a bit isolated, surrounded by large trees that hid the light of other fires lit by other campers.

“Honestly, I don’t think any scary stories can get to me anymore,” one said.

“Oh really?” Asked the one in the glasses. “Why’s that, Winston?”

“Don’t say my name like that,” Winston scowled underneath the brim of his baseball cap. “And it’s because, Lilah, I know it’s all not real. I mean, yeah, if the story’s good it’ll come back to haunt me late at night, but that’s when all judgement has been abandoned. I can’t find a story anymore that’s good enough to freak me out as it’s happening.”

“Creepypasta has ruined you,” the last one muttered.

“That it has, Charlie. That it has.”

“Okay, I got an idea. Derrick, pass me the torch.” Lilah reached over and the flashlight, shining it under her face as was typical of scary-storytelling, though the illusion was a bit ruined by the sparkly pink ribbon in her hair. “Let me tell you an actual, real-life scary story. Let’s see if that rustles your jimmies, Win.”

“Let’s see if it does.” Winston smiled, settling back into his chair.

“So. You all know my cousin Eve, right?” Lilah started.

“The journalist one, right?” Derrick asked.

“Well, kinda. What she does is she writes articles for a travel magazine. So she goes around Europe, finding cities that don’t have much of a tourist industry and looking for things about them that would, like, draw people to the place. Also she had a partner, Kyle, who she had to write articles with.”

“Ugh, Kyle,” Charlie commented. “What a name.”

“Oh yeah, Kyle sucked. Whenever the family met up, Eve would always complain about him.” Lilah shook her head. “He was like, the kind of guy who always thought he knew best, and when people contradicted him he’d be all like, ‘yeah, sure.’ Then he went ahead and talked shit about them. She always had to double-check their articles before they went up to make sure he didn’t add any bullshit. Needless to say, he didn’t like her much either.”

All the teens muttered among themselves. The disapproval was clear. “Anyway, Eve and Kyle get assigned to go to this city in Germany,” Lilah continued. “And it’s like, a nice place. Clean, has some neat museums, the hotel they’re staying in is pretty swanky. So far, Eve is taking some favorable notes for the article. Kyle is annoyed at everything, though, bitching about how the service is terrible even though there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Okay, so that’s the set up, what happened to change it?” Charlie asked.

“So, end of the first day, dawn of the second. Eve’s taken notes of everything they could do in town, and she goes down to the hotel desk to get advice on what’s best. The hotel clerk is friendly, answers all the questions. It all goes normally, until right at the end of the conversation, when the clerk said, ‘oh yes, you und your frund vould do vell to be off ze ztreets by nightfull.”

Winston suddenly burst out laughing. “Is that supposed to be a German accent?!”

“Yeah, what’s that supposed to mean?” Lilah said defensively.

“I’ve heard more realistic accents from children’s shows!”

“What, can you do better?” Lilah muttered.

“Ah, in fact, I can!” Winston said, putting on an accent. “And I say your accent is simply terrible, Fraulein!”

“Hey, we’re not here to judge by the quality of the accent, only the spookiness of the story,” Derrick said. “Keep on keepin’ on, Lilah.”

“Thanks, Derr,” Lilah said, grinning. “Anyway, the clerk says not to be on the streets after nightfall. Eve asks why, and the clerk says, ‘it gets very dangerus out zere, zat iz all. I vould hate for anyzing to happen to—’”

“Oh my god, stop, it’s hard to hear!” Winston groaned.

Lilah made a face in his direction, but obliged. “ The clerk says, ‘I would hate for anything to happen to you and your friend.’ Which is a bit sketch, and Eve knows it. She mentions this to Kyle, because even though Kyle’s a bitch she doesn’t want him to get physically hurt, and he’s just like, ‘This clerk was a girl, right? Of course she doesn’t want to walk out late at night.’”

“Ohhh, fuck this dude,” Derrick said.

“Fuck it sooo muuuch,” Charlie added.

“Right?!” Lilah nodded furiously. “Like, at this point with Eve telling this story, I was like, ‘I hope this dude gets eaten by a wolf.’”

“Wait, where did the wolf come from?” Winston asked.

“Shit, I forgot about that. Anyway,” Lilah continued. “They go throughout the city, visiting restaurants and these museums and looking around at the local architecture. At dinnertime, they go to this seafood place, and get chatting with the waiter. They mention they’re from out of town, and that they’re writing an article on the city to hopefully help out tourism. The waiter says, “Vell—sorry, well, if you are from out of town, you should know not to stay out after dark.’ Eve, having heard this for the second time, asks, ‘Why, what happens?’ And the waiter says, ‘Uh, well, we have some problems with wild dogs. They hunt at night.’ And Kyle says, ‘Well, that’s not gonna bring in the tourists.’” Lilah paused while all the others groaned. “So, after dinner, Eve notices it’s getting late, and convinces Kyle to go back to the hotel with her. But of course, he complains about it, and says that they have to check out the nightlife in town and see if there are any after dark specials running.”

“Well, from a business standpoint, he’s got a point,” Winston said. “I mean, he doesn’t have to be an asshole about it, but that is their job.”

“And I’m sure Eve would’ve agreed with you,” Lilah nodded. “But she’s noticing something weird. Most of the local shops and businesses are closing up. Not any of the chains, like McDonald’s or...I don’t know, chain clothing businesses. But the businesses unique to the city, that she’d usually be checking out and putting in the article? Closed. So she thinks there might be something to this. And, in the morning, she goes down to the lobby and there’s a local woman there. Eve starts chatting with her, and eventually the woman says ‘Oh, you are a visitor? Make sure to not go out after sunset, there are some gangs in the area that roam around after dark.’”

“Wait, what?” Charlie perked up, at attention. “Two different excuses? Ohhh that’s not a good sign.”

“Eve thought the same thing,” Lilah said gravely. “And she drew two conclusions. Either there are both wild dogs and street gangs, or the real reason why you shouldn’t go out at night is much worse than either of those. So it’s the third day they’re there, and it goes generally normally, but Eve and Kyle keep getting the same sort of thing whenever locals find out they’re not from around town: don’t go out after nightfall. So, most people would decide not to go out that night, right? Wrong!” Lilah jabbed her finger in the air. “Because here’s Kyle, an asshole who thinks he knows better than anyone else who’s ever lived. He starts to leave the hotel room, and Eve tries to stop him. Instead of doing literally anything sensible, Kyle blows up that she’s always been jealous of him and has always tried to stop him from succeeding, then storms off.”

Winston let out a long, low whistle. “Let me guess, he died?”

“Hmmm I didn’t say that,” Lilah said slowly. “So, Eve goes down and tries to stop him, but he’s already left, and it’s after sunset at this point. The clerk is like, ‘I saw your friend run off. Poor guy. Anyway, would you like some room service?’ Clearly trying to bribe her into staying in the hotel. Eve’s a bit nervous about Kyle, but she really doesn’t want to go out, so she stays in the room. Kyle doesn’t show up the next day, and she calls the local police, worried something happened. They say they’ll get on it, but in that tone of voice that suggests there’s nothing that can be done about this.”

“So, the Kyle guy just disappeared?” Derrick asked.

“Oh, no, not at all.” Lilah’s voice turned low and serious. “About a month later, she’s back home, she gets a call from this out-of-country number. And it’s a police officer from this German city. They need her to come in real quick so she can identify this head they found.”

There was a sharp inhale throughout the circle. “Just the head?” Charlie asked.

“So, Eve goes down to Germany,” Lilah continued. “She sees the head, and yeah, it’s Kyle. Missing his eyes and teeth and with a big hole in the back of the head. She asks the police what happened, and they found the head in a dumpster, along with a bunch of...flesh. And itty bitty pieces of shattered bones.”

Charlie covered their mouth. “Oh my god…”

“That is so fucked,” Derrick muttered.

Lilah looked over at Winston. “Well? What d’you think, Mr. Horror Aficionado?”

Winston adjusted his cap. “Pretty good.”

“‘Pretty good’?!” Lilah repeated. “This guy disappears, and the next month, he’s in pieces!”

“I’ve heard it before,” Winston said, a little smugly.

“Yeah, in stories, I have too!” Lilah put down the flashlight, and put her head in her hands. “This is something that actually happened to a guy my cousin knew, worked with a lot! And they never caught whoever did it, apparently!”

“Wait, how do you know they never caught them?” Derrick asked. “Do you just go down to—what’s the city name again?”

“Ah, I don’t remember,” Lilah shrugged. “Something that started with an A.”

“Do you just go down there regularly?”

“Well, no, but most serial killers don’t get caught, and given how everyone knew about this shit happening in the city, I’m assuming that’s what it is.”

“Where’d you hear that, Buzzfeed Unsolved?” Winston asked.

“Oh, speaking of which,” Charlie jumped in. “Did you guys see the last one? Of the last True Crime season? The finale?” The other three made various negative noises. “Oh.” Charlie shrugged. “I just thought it was funny.”

“What’s the case?” Winston asked.

“Oh, a recent one. I mean, like, two years ago. A YouTuber disappeared. And the boys went on this whole tangent about what if they disappeared.”

Lilah frowned. “How do YouTubers just...disappear? Wouldn’t people notice if they stopped uploading?”

“Not if it was a kinda small one,” Derrick pointed out.

“Well, this guy wasn’t small,” Charlie said. “He had like...ten million subscribers. But a few months before he disappeared he said he was gonna take a break from uploading and other media, so I don’t think the community noticed when he actually disappeared. Though, I guess they started wondering eventually...and that’s why it’s a famous case. Dude straight-up left. Why? The case remains...unsolved.”

“Maybe he just got tired of YouTube drama,” Winston muttered.

Charlie frowned. “I don’t think so. Personally, I think he went kinda crazy. Like...actually had problems or something. After watching the Unsolved episode, I went to look at his last uploaded videos and they were...weird. I’d link you the episode and the video, but y’know. No wifi.”

“Feel free to send it later, sounds interesting,” Winston said. “Anyway—”

“Do you guys hear that?” Derrick interrupted.

“Hear what?” Lilah asked.

The group fell silent. After a few seconds, Charlie said, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.” Derrick frowned. “There were, like, crickets. But they just stopped.”

“...huh,” Winston said. “That’s weird. Why—”

“Oh my god!” Lilah pointed at something. “What’s that?!”

The group all turned, and saw a shadow, flickering against a tree in the light caused by the campfire. It got bigger, and shifted, and a large man rounded out from behind one of the nearby pine trees. “Sorry, did I frighten you?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice.

“Uh…” Derrick looked around the group, then back at the man. He looked a bit like a lumberjack, with a big bushy beard and a flannel, but the illusion was ruined a bit by the patterned pajama pants. “A little bit, sir.”

“Hmm.” The man nodded slowly. “It wasn’t my intention. I heard you kids discussing...scary stories?”

“Um, yeah,” Charlie said, picking up the stick they’d been using to poke the fire. “I mean, not exactly stories. True stories, I guess.”

“True stories,” the man repeated, nodding again. “I see.” He walked over to the picnic bench and sat down, stumbling on the last few steps. “Well, I have a few true stories of my own. Would you like to hear one?”

The teens exchanged looks, clearly uneasy. Lilah slowly reached into her pocket, seeming to grab something. “Uh...sure, mister,” she said.

“Excellent.” The man leaned forward, the firelight casting deep shadows on his face. “This is a true story, as well. It took place over a hundred years ago. There was a...person.”

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” Winston muttered. All the others instantly made shushing sounds at him.

“There was a person,” the man repeated, unphased. “They were a dollmaker.” Winston rolled his eyes quietly. Of all the group, he was the only one who was unphased by the appearance of a tall, burly man in the middle of the woods. He seemed more interested in critiquing the story’s cliches. “What did they do with these dolls? Which one became evil?”

“This is not a story about dollmaking,” the man said, suddenly stern. “I’m telling you what they do so that you can better understand. The dollmaker puts—put pride and care in their creations, trying to make them last as long as possible. Their life was average, for what they were. Until one day. The dollmaker was home, just about considering going out and starting on another doll, when the phone rang. Now, this was odd. This was long before phones could be carried about in your pocket, and in fact, phones were a new device. A phone had to be wired to a house, and the house the dollmaker was in had no phone wires connecting it. But they were curious, and thinking a friend had found a way to call them, they picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’ they said. But there was no answer. Just the vague crackling of static before it was called so. And after a moment, the dollmaker heard their own voice repeated back to them. ‘H-he-he-hello-o-o?’ Strange. Though the dollmaker said more, the other end never said anything else. So they thought it was a mistake, and dropped it.

“But the next day, the phone rang again. The dollmaker answered it again. And there was indeed a voice on the other end this time, but it was breaking, barely able to be understood as a voice and not just some strange noises. The dollmaker was not dull, it—they knew something strange was happening, knew something was behind it. But they were overconfident. They believed that whatever was calling could not touch them. The phone rang three more times over the following week, and they didn’t answer it at all.

“Then, one day. The dollmaker returned, having been out all night making a doll. And the lights of the house were flickering. Strange. The dollmaker went inside, and the phone started ringing once more. This time, they picked it up. The same voice was on the other end, though they still couldn’t understand what it was saying. Uneasy, the dollmaker dropped the phone. And then they looked out the window.

“There was something there. A many-eyed something, pressed against the glass, smearing blood across it. And it smiled at the dollmaker, and said something that was utterly incomprehensible, but somehow—somehow understandable. ‘I will make you mine,’ it said. ‘I will take what is yours and use it.’ And the dollmaker was frightened for the first time in m—in their long life. So they ran.

“They ran for three years. No matter where they went, the many-eyed thing was always right on their trail. Sometimes it caught up, and they had to fight it, and barely got away. After every conflict, they grew weaker. And the next time it caught up, they were not prepared. They were hiding in a house up north, alone with a single doll who they eventually lost. And when the many-eyed thing showed up, they couldn’t run fast enough. It took...them.

“It was nineteen years before they could find their way out. By then, they could not speak. They could not walk. They could not do half the things they once could, and spent one year with their friend in the wilds, finding new ways to do what they needed. And the many-eyed thing was still out there. Decades passed, and they heard of similar things happening to others, including a doctor who is very like themselves. Nobody and nothing is safe. The eyes continue to lurk.”

Complete and total silence fell. The group of four stared, wide-eyed, at the man. Even Winston, so cocky and unafraid before, was speechless, looking around as a chill ran down his spine.

The man stood up, the movement so quick it caused the four teens to jump. “Well, I’d best be going. You kids here for any longer?”

After a moment, Derrick cleared his throat and answered, “We’re going to leave in the morning.”

Suddenly, Charlie shrieked. Everyone tensed and looked over at them. “S...sorry,” they said. “I just thought I saw something...there.” They pointed at the tree behind the man—or rather, above the man, at the branches above his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said dismissively. “There’s all sorts of wildlife out here.”

“It looked...big,” Charlie said hesitantly.

“Then it was your imagination.” The man tilted his head, and turned on his heel. Without another word, he left.

The total silence continued for a few moments more. Then Charlie jabbed their stick at the fire, and it started crackling again, the crickets chirping once more. “Should we...go to bed?” Lilah asked.

“Maybe some of us...but not all of us,” Winston said slowly. “Just to be...safe.”

Nobody said what they were trying to be “safe” about. Maybe none of them knew. But slowly, the group dispersed, and over time, fell asleep.

When they were leaving in the morning, they passed by a woman talking to one of the rangers, practically frantic. Her husband had disappeared last night. Nobody had heard anything. Anything at all.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #horrorseptics

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t-tyrants · 5 years ago

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FRIENDS NOW :)

Wrote a lil creepypasta based on the two pictures I drew of Zipper. I haven’t written any pastas in a while so I hope u enjoy!

Like almost everyone on twitter, I too have spent my quarantine time playing the new animal crossing. It has been a really good distraction from the chaos of the panicking world. It was probably the only thing keeping my mental health from jumping off a cliff. While I am only 24, I still was part of the at risk group. Having a weak heart, I have had to be very careful of my own health fo my whole life. I didn’t really want to die right now, so I’ve been mulled up in my flat, getting paranoid over every cough. The only thing that had been keeping me from overthinking is animal crossing.

Making friends with the animals visiting my island had been my main focus. No critter was allowed to leave my humble abode without having all their dreams and hopes fulfilled. Some of my favorites were Mischka, Raymond and Lolly. What can I say, I like cats? Of course, I visited some of my real friends’ islands too. But while I could do most of my work home office style in a few hours, many of them didn’t have that privilege. Lizzy was out there, saving lifes, Matt was getting yelled at by customers and I was just sitting on my ass, playing video games. Sometimes I felt bad about it. Sometimes I was simply thankful. They were all very tired but they still took some time out of their life to check in with me. After all this would be over, I would try to make it up to them.

Still, all I could do now was talk to animals, get some peaches, catch some fishes and draw new clothes. Day in, day out. It started to feel like routine. So when the easter special event started, I was hyped. Sure, those were pretty much the same game mechanics as before but i was way more interested in the elusive Zipper T. Bunny himself. I have had never played an animal crossing game before so I wasn’t aware that he was a part of the game. I had spent hours finding eggs all around the island just to get a few dialog lines from that weird bunny. Of course, I was pretty sure that this wasn’t a bunny. The big zipper, the unmoving eyes, the forced happiness - whoever was under this suit was doing a job and would prefer to be at home.

But that wouldn't stop me. I tried talking to him again and again in hopes of getting a new line of dialog. Still, I knew it was a game. I knew that Zipper wouldn't just get out of his head and show me his real self. But I was convinced that there had to be some sort of easter egg for the curious players. There had to be. I had spend so much time working for the easter event, I didn’t even notice that the real deal was getting closer too.

I woke up gasping for air from a nightmare I forgot just as quickly. Looking at the alarm clock, I could see it was 2:54 AM, Sunday. It was easter. I got out of bed, there was no use trying to fall asleep now. Instead, I walked to my couch and turned the switch on. Getting comfy between the couch cushions, I walked up to Zipper. “Happy Easter,” I chimed into the darkness of my flat. I didn’t talk to Zipper, I just stood next to him, as all of a sudden, I could feel tears in the corners of my eyes. The game had been a great distraction but now, at 3 am, it all came crashing down on me.

I was lonely, I was stressed, I was afraid.

And all I could do is play a game and run after a rabbit.

“Aren’t you tired?” A dialog prompt. I rubbed the tears from my eyes and looked up. “Not really,” I sighed as I answered with ‘No’. “Why?” Zipper asked. Now this was something different. “You are very persistent. Don’t you have anything else to do?” I leaned closer to the TV as I pressed ‘No’ again. Zipper was finally talking. This was what I had hoped for all this time. “You aren’t going to stop bothering me?” Ha, you wish. I pressed ‘No’. Zipper T. Bunny turned towards me. Not my character. But me, behind the TV screen. He grabbed my character’s hand. They just stood there, quietly looking towards me, swaying a tiny bit with the wind. They looked so cute. What a cute thing to include in the game. Now if I only could get to photo-mode…

“What do you want from me?” The dialog field was unexpected. Instead of three options, a keyboard popped up. This was my chance. I started typing frantically. “Who are you? Why do you wear a suit? What do you do when you aren’t working for this easter event? Who are you really? Can we be friends?” The keyboard disappeared. I hadn’t even pressed ‘send’. How strange. The game stopped. Nothing moved. No more music. Did I break it? Mashing all buttons, nothing happened. Before I could get up, a dialog field popped up. “Do you really want to know who I am?” I pressed my back into the couch. ‘Yes.’ “Do you really want to be friends?” Holy shit. “Of course,” I called out while pressing ‘Yes’ again.

The dialog disappeared again and all was quiet. All but a weird buzzing. As it grew louder, suddenly the TV started to flicker. Was it breaking right now? I was uncovering the most interesting, literal easter egg and my TV wanted to destroy it all for me?

The screen turned red. The green, lively island was gone, replaced by some weird, red mush. But Zipper T. Bunny and my character were still standing there. Still, they too had changed. I stared, mesmerized. His head was gone. The bunny suit head. But beneath it… was nothing. Just empty air. At the neck, red liquid left the suit, dirtying the otherwise radiant yellow. I was so intrigued by this change which was entirely inappropriate for a children's game, I hadn’t even looked at my character. It’s pupils were gone and blood had started pouring out of her eyes, nose and mouth.

Now, I was searching for some sort of easter egg but this was too much. Who would even put something like this into animal crossing? What if a small child stumbled across this? This would traumatize them and ruin a whole video game franchise and pobably stuffed animals for them. Maybe even the whole concept of eastern.

As I wanted to get up and take my phone to document this mess, I could feel it all of a sudden. Cold breath hit my neck. Cold breath, followed by even colder hands that crawled over my shoulders. I froze, unable to even move my eyes from the display. I could feel the icy nails scrap over my skin, seemingly carefully not to draw blood. My whole back was covered in goosebumps. “So….” The voice was raspy and deep. “Do you really wanna be friends?” I had to suppress the urge to laugh nervously. This was really happening. The bunny suit on TV was twitching. The hands slowly wandered up to my neck. “Of course,” the words left my mouth all of a sudden. The hands stopped. “Are you sure?” Relieved that my neck was still untouched, I decided to go all in. “Absolutely. That’s why I tried talking so much to you before.”

Silence. The whole room seemed frozen. It felt like hours had passed when the voice returned. “So you really had fun with the easter event?” The voice sounded softer and quieter. “Yes,” my voice was quivering too. “Would you mind… if I stick around even when easter is over?” There was a lot of sadness in his voice. For a split second, I felt like the two of us were just the same. Lonely, stressed, afraid.

“You can stay as long as you want to,” I said, driven by this realisation, only to regret it right away. I didn’t know what I just agreed to. I should have asked questions. But as soon as the words had left my mouth, the hands were lifted from my shoulders and the cold breathe disappeared. I was still stuck in place, frozen.

I didn’t know how much time had passed but it felt like I was woken up again when the music started playing from the TV again. I looked up, it was all back to normal. My island was back, my character looked as always and Zipper T. Bunny, head and all, was turned towards them. There was a dialog box open. As I read it, I didn’t know what to feel at all. Was I scared? Happy? Confused? All I knew was that I should get back to bed. I quickly shut off the switch and walked up to my bed. As i hid beneath the covers, pressing my eyes closed, trying to fall asleep, Zipper’s last words just wouldn’t leave my head. “FRIENDS NOW :)”

When I woke up a few hours later, the flat seemed to be frozen. Absentmindedly I ran up to my heater, trying to get some warmth into these rooms. It was already put on the highest setting. I walked up to my kitchen window and opened it. I was expecting to see snow with this temperature but outside, it was warm. I kept the window open as I turned around to look for clues. Not sure what to do, I decided to check up on animal crossing again. Starting the game, there was nothing pointing towards last night's weird occurrence. Talking to Zipper, he was back to his old tunes and none of the villagers seemed to be changed either. I was nearly convinced that this was a bad dream, when i opened up the album and saw a new pictures.

Staring back at me from the TV was Zipper T. Bunny holding my hand, head missing with a crude smile drawn over the empty space.

With tired eyes, I smiled back the picture. It was comforting in a strange way. Somehow, the flat felt less empty now.

Just a little colder.

#creepypasta #animal crossing #pls tell me what you think if you read it #zipper t. bunny

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nadiawrites14 · 4 years ago

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whagt the hell nadia has a creepypasta oc???

its october mf

wc: 3.6k

not very well written and a bit of a hot mess but still love this tall king <3

There was this kid at my school.

There was a kid at my school, and I just really need to talk about him. I think it’s something I need to put out there. I am talking about it because anyone and everyone I talk to seems to never remember his name, or him in general, but I can’t stop thinking about his face.

I was never popular at school, and my brother always outshined me in that fact. He was a cheerleader, and I was his nerdy, unattractive sister. His friends were never friendly with me, and it wasn’t easy for me to make new ones, so I mostly kept to myself. Besides a few nice classmates, I was a bit of a loner, and this led me to Charlie.

Charlie Nguyen had always attended school in my city. I knew of him — we’d never actually talked, besides nearly 10 years of attending school together. Come to think of it, I don’t think anyone really talked to Charlie. He was always there, a lingering presence, and seemed to get on better with teachers than he did with other kids. Despite both of us being outcasts, we never interacted, right up until recently. He just tapped my shoulder in the hallway once, shyly staring at his feet and asking if I would like to eat lunch with him in the library. Despite his crooked posture and timidness, he towered over me. I was only as tall as his shoulder. I had nothing to lose from it, really — it was more preferable to spending lunch with Ernest and his friends, so I accepted cheerily which made him very happy.

Talking to him, I was shocked at how much I missed out on by never bothering to strike up a conversation. He was funny, sweet, and a hell of a lot more intelligent than I had believed. I’d often seen my teachers slip back 70s and 60s to him, but in one of the library’s secluded corners, we discussed politics and art and existentialism. I don’t even know how we got into talking about philosophy and what defines the self, but by the time the bell rang, my lunch was not eaten and I was much more enlightened than I was before. It was like a lightning bolt. I told him I’d be glad to eat lunch with him tomorrow as well, and he seemed very appreciative of it. As I headed to my last class, I realized I forgot to ask for his number, but decided I’d ask the next day.

Something about Charlie was just so alluring. I didn’t know much about him at all, even after our daily lunches began — he was 17, from Fresno, and his mother passed when he was young. Half-Vietnamese, half-white, and he spoke broken Spanish and loved to draw cartoons in the margins of his notes. I found myself chatting with him through text past my bedtime, where we’d discuss our lives, our academics, our interests. One thing Charlie and I really bonded over was our shared interest in both Shakespeare and horror movies. He’d been enamored since he read Romeo and Juliet his freshman year, but Hamlet was his favorite. At the time, I was peeling through AP Literature with straight A’s and was much more concerned with Tolstoy and Plath and Camus, but his fascination with the bard was certainly something I could bond with him over.

I prefer the comedies, though. Midsummer’s Night, Much Ado, As You Like It. Charlie’s interest in the tragedies ranged from the general to the obsessive, where he would produce sermons and sermons of how much the words and writings spoke to him. Considering how much death was in Hamlet and Macbeth, his other favorite, it concerned me, but I passed it off as nothing unique. After all, he was also a fan of slashers and all things horror. He loved a good scare. Whenever I tried to coax him into visiting his house for a movie night or a sleepover, he’d defer, and I would glumly accept the sentence. Once I switched the proposed setting from his house to mine, he gladly accepted.

Ernest was a little bit less enthusiastic about my liaisons with Charlie. They had gotten into scuffles before. Ernest got a very stern slap on the wrist for pulling on Charlie’s crutch in the hall once, freshman year. I told him a week in advance, just so he knew to vacate the house the next Friday and allow me and what he so lovingly called ‘the creepy asshole’ to watch a movie together. Ernie huffed and puffed about it the whole week and it really began to get on my nerves. The entire week, he bugged me and demanded just what I saw in that freak. I excused it as brotherly overprotection, but as Friday grew closer, I started to realize that it was fear.

When he dropped me off that morning, I confronted him in the car. “Why are you so scared of Charlie?”

Ernie scoffed. “I’m not scared of Charlie.”

“You sound pretty paranoid when you’re dropping a curfew on me and telling me to not get too close or talk too much.”

“Well, mom and dad are out of the house, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Charlie is a freak. He’s... creepy. I can’t place my finger on what’s up with him. Esme, just tell me, have you ever left the room with a splitting headache when you’re with him? Has your phone ever started bugging out? Hm?”

I thought back. Well, a few lunches in, I did have such an awful headache I had to excuse myself from class to go try and throw my guts up in the bathroom. It wasn’t that, though, and it had subsided by the end of the school day. The back of my skull would sometimes pound and contract, but I didn’t think it was anything, reducing it to pollution or mold in the school. It always ebbed when I left the school. For my phone, it would get a little buggy. Just a little buggy, though! I had no reason to think it was Charlie’s fault! It’s not like we live in a world where that shit happens. He’s not some psychic, he’s a weird, lonely kid with trauma. That’s it. And I let Ernie know that by screaming an expletive and slamming the door on him, spending the rest of the school day with a headache tenfold worse than the one I had all those weeks ago. By lunchtime, my head was pounding so fiercely I almost slipped and fell down the stairs.

Charlie noticed, and asked what was wrong, a worried look on his face. I asked if we could postpone, and went on to talk about how awful my headache was. He seemed very disappointed about it but nodded and accepted with a smile. I felt so guilty about it, but it was quickly absolved, because when I walked out of the library with him I must have blacked out in the hallway. Charlie and one of the other teachers brought me to the nurse’s office, where my mother brought me home as I moaned in the backseat.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. A literal blur behind my crowded vision and the blood rushing in my ears, but I do remember awaking in the darkness of my room at around 1:00 AM. The red light on my digital clock said so. I awoke to the sound of something like water boiling, or when a witch’s brew bubbles inside of a movie or cartoon. It was bubbling, dripping, wet — but when I pulled back my curtain, everything appeared dry. No rain, not even any clouds. The stars were quite clear, due to the fact that it was a new moon. Despite that lingering sound of bubbling and popping, I was able to fall back asleep. I don’t know how long I slept, but when I came downstairs the next morning, my parents (and an over-concerned Ernie) were adamant that I stay home all weekend. I accepted that the next two days would be filled with boring movie binges and cups of hot soup and tea, and I plopped back under the covers. My head began to pound every time I checked my phone. I noticed Charlie had sent me a few texts, but I didn’t have the heart nor the energy to check what he had said.

Sunday is when things actually began to get weird. The batteries in the remote for my TV had gone kaput, and I remembered that Ernie usually kept the same type in his desk for his old lamp. It was easier to walk across the hall to his room than down two flights of stairs into the basement. I knocked, and when there was no response, I entered. The lights were off. This was strange, because Ernie always loved to keep lights on. My parents constantly griped about seeing his outline in the window as late as 11, either from the strip LED lights that lined his room, the fairy lights, the candles, or the overhead light. I flipped the light switch and rubbed my eyes, as it was the most brightness I had seen in the past two days. Beginning to feel a tad nauseous, I took a seat at Ernie’s desk, trying to recall which drawer he kept his batteries in. As I searched, though, I noticed one drawer was shut from the inside, most likely from a heavyweight.

I should have just kept it shut. I shouldn’t have pressed. I should have gotten what I needed and left it alone, left my golden boy brother’s life completely alone. Then I could live knowing he didn’t have any dark secrets despite being a little bit of a bully and just a tad too standoffish. But, being the curious girl I was, I kept pushing until the drawer gave in.

Composition notebooks. The white smudges across the notebook covers had been filled in with dashes of pen, each one meticulously filled in. All five of the notebooks had this pattern. Blacked out, no name on the lines or any signage, otherwise normal in appearance. By that point, I should have known, but I kept going. I was once again shrouded in that same allure I felt around Charlie, the strange sense of being drawn in. When I opened the first notebook, I had to stop myself from making a sound. Every single page. Every single page in that notebook was filled with scratches in multicolored ballpoint pen, pleads and hypotheses and prayers. Drawings, maps, entries. The pages were thin from being worn down so deeply with the frantic pen marks, and many of the pages had been torn through from the intensity of the writing. My nausea grew and I began to feel my head pounding again. But I just couldn’t stop. Trying to process those frantic words written and dated and laden with tables and records and drawings was like trying to decipher hieroglyphics. Particularly, there was one symbol and one familiar figure that was retained throughout the notebook’s contents. An O with an X slashed through it. It reminded me of how I marked my bubbles on Scantrons, one line through, one line through, shade in the bubble. And the figure. The figure. A faceless man, a white oval of a face atop a suit and tie, and what looked to be tentacles pouring out from the sides.

I was snapped out of my trance by the sound of footsteps rising up the stairs. I dumped the notebooks back in my drawer, besides the fourth one, which I tucked in the back of my shorts and underneath my sweatshirt. Ernie looked at me weirdly as I exited his room, but I offered a weak smile and held up the pack of batteries. He nodded, and I disappeared back into my room.

It fascinated me, and it scared me. When the oncoming headache and nauesa had left, I scanned over all his words and entries, observing each of his drawings and sentences and deconstructing like a true AP student should know how to do. I always assumed Ernie was going to parties when I heard his window open and shut or when he warned me he wouldn’t be home until late, not investigating supernatural entities in our affluent suburban town and measuring sound waves through apps he’d downloaded onto his phone. I hadn’t known Ernie was this brilliant. It took me about two hours of reading and rereading that singular notebook until I had connected the dots.

A few years ago, our cousin Ronnie disappeared. Ronnie and Ernie were best friends, close like brothers, and were inseparable at each and every family gathering. What I knew for certain about Ronnie is that he also had a particular fascination with ghost-hunting. He went out on frequent escapades with his girlfriend and her brother with some handy professional equipment in the most ‘supernatural’ bits of California. Most of my family excused it as a strange hobby that didn’t subtract from Ronnie’s successful business career, not until all three of the ghost-hunting squad disappeared without a trace while investigating the Lassen National Forest. No DNA, no bodies, no signs or directions or a reason were ever found. Even their car and all their expensive equipment, all of Ronnie’s research, had vanished into thin air. It seemed he had become one of those ghost stories he so adored to pursue. It didn’t hit me that hard, as I hadn’t known Ronnie all that well, but I hadn’t factored in how much of Ernie’s personality had changed since the disappearance. He had become more standoffish with his rivals, more competitive with his athletics, more jumpy and paranoid.

I should have known by the way he looked at Charlie. I assumed it was drama I had missed out on or the pure perils of high school hierarchies. But I had never noticed how hateful, how accusatory it really was. For some reason, I was certain that Ernie had it in his head that all of these things were connected. The Faceless Man, the disappearance of our beloved Ronnie Halaifinoua, and the outcast at my school who was seemingly responsible for bugged out phones and splitting headaches. It made no sense, but at the same time, it was like a missing piece to a puzzle that I simply had to snap into place. I hid the notebook in my schoolbag, and went back on Monday armed with a bottle of aspirin and comfortable clothes, ready to confront Charlie.

At lunch, I took two aspirin and handed him the notebook wordlessly. We sat in silence as he slowly peered over the pages, absorbing the information behind blank eyes without a single sound. When he reached the final page, he set it down and asked, “Did you write this?”

“Ernie did.”

Charlie sniggered at that and crossed his legs. “Well, he’s onto me, now, isn’t he?”

I stared at him, slack-jawed, feeling duped. “You’re— you’re—“

“What, supernatural? I’d like to think so,” he gave me a mellow look. “Ah… you may want to take another aspirin. Watch this.”

I popped one and I watched. He closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. The lights above us flickered off, then on, then off again, before the lights reignited. Charlie opened his eyes, suddenly breathless, and nodded. “I can’t… usually do it with that much control. It needs work.”

I slammed my hands down on the notebook, my mind barreling at 100 miles per hour with a smattering of questions in tow. “Everything. Tell me everything. Now.”

Charlie folded his hands and gestured to the aspirin. I shook my head and pulled the bottle to my side. He cleared his throat, steadied his gaze, and began. “I wouldn’t call myself willingly supernatural by any means. I did not ask to be this way. I have been tossed through more foster homes in 17 years than I can count on my hands, and I would give anything to give up this life. I hate living a life where I’m unable to control my abilities. I don’t want to hurt others, I don’t want to do this, but sometimes it gets out of hand. Lucky for you,” he said. “Some people will gain immunity once exposed to it long enough.”

“Gain immunity to what?”

“It has a lot of names depending on the universe you’re in. They mostly call it the slender sickness, but you can call it the static sickness, faceless-man-itis, whatever. You do you. Headaches, nausea, hallucinations. Malfunctioning electricity. Static. The whole thing.”

“So it is you.”

“Always has been. Well, not totally. Faceless Man? The Faceless Man, as your brother says, he may or may not have touched my mother with his hand, therefore touching me as well and handing me a degree of abilities that I drag with me. It’s my cross, Esme. I’ve been avoiding his gaze for the past 16 years and have always managed to just be out of his reach, but my powers are getting stronger and it’s all getting more and more out of hand. I needed to go to someone.”

“Does he have a name? An actual one.”

“Many names. The Operator, the Business Man, Chernobog. Apparently, now, the Faceless Man. And I guess he’s my parental figure now. I’ve been chilling with him more often. Crazy dude, gotta say,” Charlie said, putting his hands behind his head and crossing his legs. “Crazy, crazy things.”

I looked at my hands, unsure of what to feel. “Did he kill my cousin?”

Charlie’s face went slack. “He’s killed many, many, people, but I don’t have control over what he does.”

We sat in silence for a long moment until Charlie spoke again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

My heart began to pound. “Ernie’s after you,” I said, running a hand through my hair and letting it fall over my face. “I think he might try and hurt you.”

“So… movie night is postponed indefinitely, then,” he replied.

I grinned sadly at him. “Don’t make me laugh, this is serious. I don’t want you to be harmed.”

His arms dropped to his side, and he smiled at me. He smiled in a way that drew me back in all over again. “Esme, be here tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”

He vanished back out into the hall. I chose not to follow him. But, for the first time, I had a surprising lack of a headache, and I don’t think it was because of the aspirin.

That night, I slipped the notebook back into Ernie’s drawer. I think he may have figured it out, though, because when we bumped into each other on the stairs, we stared at each other for a good minute saying nothing. I believe it was my way of telling him which side I was on, because when he surrendered his gaze he slammed the door shut behind him and I heard rummaging in his room. I walked to school the next morning.

When I came to lunch the next day, Charlie was already waiting for me. He handed me a gift bag. “It’s a present,” he said. “For you.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“I’m moving. You might never see me again.”

“Oh, Charlie…”

“I say might. Might. There’s a chance we will meet again. Perhaps in another lifetime or in another universe. We can figure it out, alright? Alright.”

I shared my lunch with him, half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and we toasted to his new life with our milk cartons. When we left the library that day, our pinkies were interlocked. As he turned to go to class, I pulled him back, and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll miss you,” I said.

He hugged me. It was like hugging one of those plasma balls where your hair stands up when you touch it. I had just stuck my fingers in a socket, but when I pulled back, all I could see were Charlie’s grateful, glowing eyes. “I’ll miss you too. Goodbye, Esme. Goodbye.”

My hair on my arms was still standing up and my cheeks were dark with color. I had a mark on my pinkie from where it touched his.

Since that day, I haven’t seen Charlie Nguyen. Ernie is still doing tests and taking entries though they become more inconsistent and confusing each and every day. I have an idea of who’s altering his readings. The present Charlie gave me, though, might hold some importance for me in the future. It’s a key without something to unlock, a piece of quartz, his copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet with all his annotations in the margins, and a pair of earrings with ghosts on them. Quartz conducts electricity. I remember learning that in class. I always keep it in my pocket now. When I ask my teachers about him, they seem confused, as do the other students. Ernie and I have seemed to make a silent pact as to not discuss the matters of the supernatural. I think he’s looking for Charlie. He’s looking for anything that will bring him closer to the truth.

I feel farther to the truth than ever before, but I know I cannot be far from it. It’s a matter of time. Ernie has begun to have headaches lately.

#AHGH charlie love u #i started writing this like 2 months ago and finished it on a whim last night #im trying to write as much as possible while im on this literary induced high #we will see #anyway enjoy charlie lore #my writes #charlie nguyen #creepypasta

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thatonewarg · 5 years ago

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The Black Wolf

A Creepypasta by Katethered00

I am posting this story on behalf of my friend, Maria. I don’t have a shadow of a doubt that the story she tells is true.

I remember hearing a tapping on my window; three rapid taps to be exact. My light was turned out and it was dark in my room so I used my phone light to find my way to my window. I looked outside and only saw darkness. Nothing was there. I went back to bed and crawled under my covers. TAP TAP TAP.

There it was again, only louder this time. I pulled the covers over my head and shut my eyes tight, willing the insistent noise to go away. For a moment there was only the sound of my breathing. As I began to fall asleep I heard it again. TAP TAP TAP! My eyes shot open and my heart rate quickened its pace. The rapping on my window pane was much louder this time and by then I knew I wasn’t imagining things. I ignored the tapping but I was sure whoever or whatever was tapping on my window could hear my heart beating out of my chest.

I plugged in my headphones, played some music and shut my eyes tight. Eventually, sleep overtook me. BANG BANG BANG! I awoke with a start at the sound of aggressive banging at my window loud enough to shake the glass in its frame. I looked at my alarm clock. It read 3:26 AM. I started to sweat and my heartbeat grew louder and louder. I was sure my heart was going to beat straight out of my chest.

I got out of bed shakily and wrapped my blanket around my shoulders. I left my room and walked down the hall to the living room. I laid down on the couch and got comfortable under the blanket. Right as I laid down I heard it. The howl was low and deep. It lasted for about thirty seconds then stopped but I could’ve sworn I was still hearing it, echoing in my mind. I sat up and peeked through the window behind my couch. I quickly covered my mouth to hold in my scream.

There, standing in my backyard, was just about the biggest wolf I have ever seen. Its fur was pitch black and dense, appearing almost like a silk wrapped shadow. The eyes of the wolf seemed to stare into my soul, gazing into the furthest reaches of my mind. The wolf’s irises were golden in color and glowed in the moonlight. I didn’t dare break eye contact for fear of it jumping through my window and mauling me where I sat. The more I stared into the wolf’s eyes, the more I became entranced in it’s intimidating gaze. I could feel the wolf clawing at my mind, digging away at the surface of my skull. It seemed as though the black wolf was trying to break through my skull to feast on my sanity.

The moon was suddenly covered by the clouds, darkening my backyard. Just like that, the black wolf was gone… When the clouds left their place over the moon there wasn’t a trace of the wolf. It was as if it had just disappeared, fading away with the darkness. I can’t remember when I fell asleep after that but I do know nothing else happened until the next morning. I asked my mom if she heard the howling to which she replied “No sweetie, I didn’t hear anything last night, I slept like a baby.”

The day went along normally. I went to school as I would on any weekday and it was uneventful to say the least. It was later that night while I was in bed that I heard the howling outside my window. It seemed to go on for hours before I finally fell asleep. The next day was the same; uneventful. The only strange occurrence was a sketch of a black wolf on the next blank page of my biology journal. I knew it couldn’t have been any of my friends and considering my parents’ lack of artistic skill it couldn’t have been them either. I know I didn’t draw the wolf so how did it get there?

My classes that day went by slowly. It was during lunch that things started getting a little strange. I was sitting in the courtyard with a few friends. I was telling them about the bizarre and frightening things that were going on when I took my lunch out of my bag. I unwrapped the sandwich from it’s packaging and took a bite. It tasted God-awful and I instantly felt a squirming sensation in my mouth.

I looked down at my sandwich and I became horrified at the sight. Between the two slices of bread wasn’t lunch meat like I thought. Raw meat with a rancid smell that told me it was obviously rotten filled my nose. That wasn’t all. In my rotten raw meat sandwich were squirming, fat maggots. I got up and ran to the trash can, throwing up the contents of my stomach and spitting out the rotten flesh and maggots. I could still feel the repulsive, slimy residue coating the entire inside of my mouth. I could still taste the mixed recipe of vomit, rancid flesh and greasy maggots on my tongue.

I ran back inside the school, ignoring my friends calling to me. I burst through the door of the girl’s restroom and hunched myself over the sink, crying like a baby. I must have washed my mouth out with soapy water a thousand times before my school’s assistant principal walked in the restroom and put her hand on my shoulder. “Maria… Are you ok sweetie?” She asked with a calming yet concerned tone. I shook my head frantically and felt ready to throw up again. The assistant principal led me out of the girls’ restroom and I noticed my friends standing outside with worried looks on their faces.

I walked with her all the way to her office, still crying. Once I stepped inside her office I sat down in the chair across from her desk and slowly the tears stopped running down my cheeks. The assistant principal sat across from me and began to speak. “Maria, dear, do you want to talk about what happened at lunch?” I sniffled and rubbed my eye, staying silent. “Your friends showed me what was in your sandwich. Do you have any idea how that happened?” I shook my head slowly and she continued. “You do understand I’m going to have to make a report of this to child protective services, don’t you?” I looked up at her. She had a look of concern and sympathy on her face.

“No don’t! It wasn’t my parents’ fault!” The realization hit me. It was that… thing. That thing that was tapping on my windows did this. It must’ve also gotten ahold of my journal and drew that wolf. The sickening realization that it must have broken into my house the night before hit me like a freight train.

“Maria, sweetie?” My assistant principal tried getting my attention. I snapped out of my daze and she continued. “You have to realize how this looks…” she said quietly. Reading her face I knew what she was thinking.

“My parents didn’t do this. It isn’t their fault!” I snapped.

She looked surprised and went on “Who’s fault is it, Maria?” She asked, clasping her hands together on the desk in front of her. I bit my lip and sat forward in the chair.

“There’s something after me. It’s been tapping and banging on my window. It drew this picture of a wolf in my journal and I saw…” I paused for a moment. “I saw this huge black wolf in my backyard and it just disappeared!” I burst out, beginning to tap my foot nervously.

”Maria… Do you want to talk to the counselor about this? I think she can help you with-”

I cut her off with a sharp tone in my voice. “I’m not crazy!” By then I’d grown angry. I was having none of what she was saying.

She simply sighed “I’m not saying you’re crazy. All I’m saying is I think Mrs. Judy can help you with this better than I can…” I crossed my arms as she started writing a slip to the counselor’s office. My assistant principal handed it to me and I stormed out of her office in a huff.

My appointment with the counselor was at 3:20 PM so I went through another class, barely listening to anything my teacher said. When it was time to see the school counselor it went along just as you’d expect. I was accused of making up the events that were occurring. According to the counselor, I was “making up fantasies” to cope with what was happening in my “home life”. Nothing was going on at home other than all the shit this person or this thing has been doing to me.

The next few days were the same. The tapping and banging on my window at night, keeping me from sleeping. The constant fear of being watched… Followed. Checking everything I ate and drank for unwanted, wriggling, flesh eating visitors. Though new things began happening. I would hear the howling at night, every night; angry, vicious, deep howls that seemed to get closer and closer until they sounded like they were coming from right outside my window. The howling wouldn’t stop. It was driving me bat-shit insane. These strange symbols began appearing on my window, drawn in what looked to be blood. Another drawing appeared in my journal. I was losing my mind… The sleep deprivation and mental torture were getting to me… I started skipping school and hiding in my room all day and night.

There was a morning that I heard the doorbell ring. My parents weren’t home so I got up, left my room and answered the door. I saw the FedEx delivery truck driving away, releasing black smoke from the exhaust. I looked down and saw a medium sized package with my name and address on the shipping label. There was no return address. I took the box inside and set it on my bed, grabbing a pair of scissors. I crawled onto my bed and examined the box.

Nothing seemed unordinary about it until I cut the tape and looked inside. A folded square of stationary paper was placed on top of a black trash bag that seemed to have something in it. I unfolded the note and saw that it read, “To Maria B.” Then below those words was the delicate handwriting that read “Enjoy, little pig.” Signed, The Black Wolf… I set the note aside and opened the trash bag. I almost screamed at the sight of what lay inside. The decaying, stinking head of a pig stared me dead in the eye. I covered my mouth with my hand as the stench caused my eyes to water. I felt like throwing up. The pig’s mouth was hanging wide open, exposing it’s dried up pale tongue which lolled out of its mouth. The eyes of the pig were gray and sunken in, leaking the fluids of rot, like the tears of death himself. The smell was too much.

I grabbed the box, almost gagging, opened my window and threw the box outside. The pig’s head rolled out of the box and flopped onto the grass. I slammed my window shut and sat in the corner of my room, crying and shaking. I rocked back and forth, hugging my knees for what seemed like hours. It became dark outside by the time I realized how long I’d been huddled in the corner, crying like a nut case. I remembered my parents had gone out of town for a few days on a business trip. I was all alone…

Midnight rolled by and I was sitting in my room, checking the notifications on my phone. As I scrolled through messages I heard a knock at the door, three subtle knocks. I got up, wondering who could be at my door this late at night. I walked out of my room and approached the front door. As I reached for the doorknob I was stopped dead in my tracks. BANG BANG BANG! The stranger outside knocked again, aggressively this time. My heart started pounding and I checked to make sure the door was locked. I heard laughing from the other side of the door “Little pig, little pig! Let me in!” I gasped at the sound and felt frozen in place. BANG BANG BANG! I heard the banging on the door again then all was quiet.

I backed up a few steps, my heart pounding out of my chest. Suddenly the door burst open. They kicked the door open… ‘Oh my God I’m going to die…’ I thought to myself. I couldn’t make a sound. I fell back on my ass and stared wide eyed at the figure that stood looming in the doorway. They… It was like a living shadow. It stood still for a moment then, quick as lightning it lunged forward, slamming the door shut behind it. I tried to scream but no sound came out. It grabbed me by my hair and started to drag me down the hall to the basement door. I kicked and fought but it didn’t seem to affect anything.

It opened the door and dragged me down the stairs to the basement. I felt myself being held down and I felt pressure around my wrists and ankles. I tried to scream but a rag forced itself into my mouth, secured by duct tape. I thrashed and struggled in my bindings to no prevail. The basement light flickered to life at the click of the switch and my eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. My attacker stepped forward into the light and I screamed, only to be muffled by the gag in my mouth. It wasn’t a monster at all. It was a man, or at least I thought it was a man…

He looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He wore a black leather mask in the shape of a wolf’s face, snarling and angry. I could see the man’s eyes behind the mask. The skin around his eyes was painted black. His scleras were pitch black and his irises a glowing golden color. Just like those of the wolf I saw… He was dressed in complete black, decked out with heavy military combat boots, a tight fitting black hoodie with a tan skull on the back and black jeans. He unzipped his hoodie and tossed it to the ground.

I could see the scarred, exposed skin of his slim torso. His muscles rippled as he stretched. “Little pig… Tell me, are you scared of me? The big bad Wolf?” His voice was deep and had a slight rumble to it like a wolf’s growl. He seemed cocky and bold. I was crying again by then and shaking uncontrollably. I whimpered behind the gag. “Ha ha! You should be…” he laughed sadistically and stepped closer to me. “You don’t remember me, do you?” He asked, stepping even closer until his tall figure loomed over me. He looked to at least be six foot. I shook my head no. “Tsk. Figures a pig like you wouldn’t remember. Like a sheep in the flock… This isn’t personal or anything of the sort. You simply endangered my research so I’m endangering your life.” My eyes widened and I pulled at the ropes. They only tightened more around my wrists and ankles. “You’re a disgusting little pig. You need to learn your lesson.” I whimpered at the menacing tone in his voice.

The man in the black wolf mask lunged forward and grabbed my wrist that was tied to the arm of the chair. I tried to call for help to no prevail. “‘This little piggy went to the woods…” he grabbed my pointer finger and snapped it. I saw a flash of white and pain shot up my arm. He gripped my middle finger “This little piggy stayed home…” I heard my finger break as he snapped the bone. My screams and pleas sounded like a wailing, injured animal, blocked by the gag. He moved on to the next finger. “This little piggy had rotten meat…” POP! Then my pinky finger was next. “This little piggy had none…” SNAP! He moved to my thumb. I shook my head rapidly, desperately trying to beg for him to stop. He removed the duct tape and rag from my mouth. I gasped for air and before I could say anything he chimed in with a sweet, sadistic tone to his deep voice. “And this little piggy cried wee, wee, wee!” CRACK! I screamed and the sound echoed through the basement.

In a flash, he shoved the gag back in my mouth and sealed my lips with the duct tape. “Ah, what a wondrous sound!” He took in a deep breath through his nose and straightened up, tilting his head back to the ceiling as if my scream was a drug flowing through his veins like liquid fire. I saw a portion of his face just beneath the mask. His smile widened, revealing sharp, pointed canines. I noticed then that his hair was shaved on one side and black in color. His ears were pointed like that of a wolf’s.

”To this day I still have vivid memories of this self-centered son of a bitch showing the entire class my research journal, even reading some of it out loud as well, word for fucking word. I looked like a fool, it was only the second day of freshman year, everybody thought I was a freak… She thinks I would forget about that? She ruined all three years of my fucking high school experience. Oh but of course that little snickering pig would’ve forgotten, she had it easy, so fucking easy... The bitch is lucky I dropped out. If I hadn’t, she would’ve never heard the end of it the minute the bell rings on the last day of senior year.. Not like it matters now, all of her bones will be broken soon enough anyways...” The masked madman was deep in thought...

I was hyperventilating, nearly struggling to breathe as I felt the duct tape on my lips tighten each time I inhaled. ‘He has to get caught…He will…HE. HAS. TO. GET. CAUGHT.’ I continuously tried to convince myself that everything would be okay. My thoughts were running faster than wolves chasing after their next meal. My eyes began to pace around the room, I didn’t know where to look anymore. ‘He’s going to get caught, right? No way he can get away with this...Ah- err- fingerprints! He’d leave fingerprints behind!’ I suddenly gained a bit of hope, until I glanced over at the man.. ‘GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!’ I noticed he was wearing black military gloves...

He walked towards me slowly, I could hear the footsteps of his combat boots getting closer. I squinted my eyes, eventually shutting them completely to avoid taking one more look at that mask, that damn mask. “Frightened so soon, little pig? The fun is just beginning.” I whined quietly but my cries were muffled by the tape. There was no use in yelling any longer, no one heard me… At this point, they never will... He stepped forward and stood right in front of me... I tried to squirm... I couldn’t take it... Just fucking looking at him...

He pushed the chair down and I fell to the concrete floor. My knees burned like hell. I felt warm tears run down my face as I immediately heard a thump and my chair was suddenly pushed back to its original position. “Oh, little pig… YOU LITTLE FUCKING PIG!” He yelled, grabbing something from his back pocket. I felt my heartbeat racing... My chest felt heavy... My cheeks felt so hot, I could swear it felt like hot irons being pressed on my face. I could feel the fear, physically and mentally. He pulled out a lighter. This was it… My final moments... He sparked the lighter and the light of the flame reflected on his dark leather mask. He brought it closer to me as I began to close my eyes tightly again. I felt a sharp pain on my forearm and I whimpered in agony.

I suddenly felt the ropes around my left ankle loosen and rip. I kicked out and the tip of my foot hit his chin. He let out a loud sigh, unfazed as I heard him spark the lighter again. ‘Fuck.’ I thought to myself. “Did you think; YOU, YOURSELF Would get away from ME? The Black Wolf?” He laughed, louder than anytime he’d laughed before. I felt the heavy heat of the flame touch the tip of my toes as I attempted to squirm, failing miserably. Tears ran down my face quickly. My eyes opened slowly. I saw him stand up and grab something off the nearest shelf. He was pacing around.

“My my….Is little piggy scared? Boohoo! Too bad you can’t squeal for help.” He began to chuckle. “Little pig, little pig… Let’s begin.” I noticed that he’d gotten a switch blade from the shelf. I didn’t want to die like this. I never thought I would die like this. I began remembering all those childhood memories of mine, until it came to me... I know who this person is... Or rather who they were. I remember him. I remember what I did freshman year of High School. The rush of guilt was heavier than the weight of anxiety I got every time I looked at this guy’s mask. The guy who’d been abused by his mom his whole life or something...

I was so… lost in thought. I finally snapped out of it by the painful feeling. I was being cut in the arm, it felt like the knife just cut through every bit of flesh like butter which then lead to the inevitable bleeding. I’ve never seen so much blood before. I passed out cold... I was awoken by a door slamming. I was untied from the chair. I was no longer restrained. I ran over to my cell phone and called my parents. They rushed home and when they came, they called the cops. They didn’t believe me. This couldn’t be happening. They thought, they actually thought I did all that to myself. ‘No. No no no no no. He can’t get away with this, how did he cover his tracks so well? What even?’ I felt like I was going to snap. I went through so much of this, just to be told it was SELF INJURY. I snapped. “YOU FUCKING MORONS KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME IF YOU THINK I’D DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO MYSELF!”

The officers restrained me and walked me to the car. “Don’t worry ma’am, we are going to put you somewhere where you can get better okay?” I kicked. I squirmed. I couldn’t handle this anymore. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the back seat of a cop car, on my way to some awful place for crazy people. I tried to look outside the window. It was too foggy to see anything until I blinked and saw the faint markings on the car window. It had words drawn onto it with a finger. The crystal clear lettering stood out prominently on the foggy glass. It read,

‘The girl that cried “Wolf”’

#creepypasta #theblackwolf #theblackwolfcp #theblackwolfcreepypasta #creepypastastories #horror #gore #scary #slenderverse #slenderman #copypasta #shortstories

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