1. Chapter 1
I was driving home from work. Another uneventful day at the coffee shop. But it was okay because I loved working there. The smell of coffee all around me, the cozy feeling to just being there, the quiet peacefulness that relaxed you as soon as you walked in. I loved it.
I pulled into my parking lot and got out of the car, grabbing my keys from my back pocket and unlocking my apartment door.
My small black dog immediately ran up barking to me, trying to get into my arms by jumping up with her paws in the air. Honestly, I didn't know what breed she was. Just some mix.
"Hey, Zoey." I leaned down and picked her up. I had decided to get a dog because I hated coming home to a dark and empty house (er- apartment). I hated the feeling of being alone. I set Zoey down on the couch and walked into the kitchen. It was already 8 pm. I pulled a ravioli can out from the cabinet and peeled off the lid. I set it in the microwave and leaned back against the counter while waiting for the it's timer to go off. I looked warily around my small apartment.
I was 20. I had moved out of my parents house last year. Sometimes I regretted it. I missed living with them. Having the safety of knowing I was a child and didn't have to worry about anything besides getting my homework done on time.
They were suffocating you, I reminded myself for the millionth time. I had to get out of there. I loved my parents but sometimes they were too much.
The microwave let out a few sharp beeps before growing silent and dark. I pulled the warm ravioli can out and dumped the insides into a bowl. I grabbed a fork and went to eat in the living room.
After I ate and watched TV for a couple hours, I decided to go to bed. Boring, but that was my life. Me waiting for something unplanned and exhilarating to happen. I guess I got my wish.
I changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed. Zoey jumped up after me and settled down by my leg. I laid there for hours, tossing and turning. I was such an insomniac. At around 1 am. I heard something thump against my window. The logical part of me wanted to think it was just a tree branch. But the part of me that watched horror movies knew better. My eyes went wide and I pulled my blankets higher up. The thumping came again and again until it was a loud scraping against the glass. Zoey whimpered and ran out of my room.
"Wimp." I murmured, though silently wished I could do the same. Then I heard my window slide open. Silently , I pulled my blankets over my head.
Like a child, I thought. But isn't that only instinct? The feeling that if you can't see it (whatever it was) then it couldn't see you?Can't hurt you.
Pulling the blankets over my head made me feel slightly better. Slightly.
I was barely breathing. Fear radiated through me.
"Go to sleep." Something whispered above me. I couldn't stop a the whimper that escaped through my lips.
"Don't cower like a child." The deep voice said. "I want to see the light die from your eyes when I kill you."
I didn't move or even make a sound, though I knew that wouldn't protect me from anything.
"LOOK AT ME!" It screamed, furious. A strong hand ripped the blankets from my body. But, still, I kept my eyes tightly closed.
"You're pathetic." It growled, sending shivers of fear down my spine.
"Aren't we all in the eyes of death?" I whispered, finding my voice. If I was going to die, I might as well have rememerable last words.
"So poetic.... But sadly, my darling, it won't matter in a few moments. Now look at me!" The feeling of a sharp object (presumably a knife) pressing against my throat made me force my eyes open. I took in the image of a man with pale (almost white) skin, pitch black hair, and a smile carved by knife stretching into through cheeks. His dark eyes stared into me as I gazed, horrified, at him. Something flashed through those eyes, leaving so quickly I couldn't tell what it was. But soon, the murderous expression was back on his face.
"So our little poet has finally gained some courage, hmm?" I stared at him silently. The madness was almost too obvious in his eyes. "Such a pretty little poet...would be a shame seeing you dead...perhaps a toy...yes a toy." He whispered mostly to himself. While he spoke, his eyes grew out of focus, staring straight through me. This terrified me more than anything else. True insanity.
"Just kill me already." I said, quietly. I prayed the fear wasn't showing in my voice. His eyes snapped back into focus and he looked at me with the same expression he had when I opened my eyes. Then, like before, it was gone in an instant.
"Why kill you now when I have the opportunity to make you my new toy?" He traced his knife along my cheeks. "You seem so eager for death now...imagine if you were begging for it." What did he have in mind? The thought of this insane man thinking of ways to torture me sent an eerie and horrified feeling clawing it's way through my body. The fear must have shown on my face because his grin seemed to widen. If possible.
"So something can hurt our little poet." I stayed silent. "I'll be back for you. When everyone you have ever loved is dead. And you'll gladly welcome death. Welcome me."
I gathered what little courage I had and spat in his face. He snarled and used the hand that wasn't holding his knife to wipe his face.
"You'll regret that." He growled and was gone. I quickly sat up. My curtain flapped against my open window.
Like a horror movie, I though vaguely.
Maybe I'm asleep.
No, it's too real.
Maybe it's a prank. Yes it seems like something my friends would do. David was always really into creepypasta. And that was no doubt Jeff The Killer. Rebecca didn't care for the horror stories, but would give anything to prank me.
No, this was too dark even for them.
Somehow, despite my fear, I fell into a cold dark sleep where monsters chased me and there was no escape.