Warning
My friends and I had just left a party at a local bar, and we were walking back to my house, seeing how it wasn’t too far away from where we were. On our way back, we happened to come across a small lot sandwiched between two apartment buildings that was filled with black garbage bags and piles of tires. Rich proposed going in, and after a few minutes of consideration, Dennis and I agreed. Obviously, there’s nothing special, or fun, about a rotten-smelling junkyard, but we were a bit drunk, so the idea seemed great at the time. We decided to play a game called “King of the Hill” on the fort of tires that stood before us. Basically, we were just pushing each other off of the top. After a while of climbing up, and falling down, a pile of tires in an idiotic attempt of having fun, we took a break by sitting against one of the dumpsters that stood near the entrance. As I tried to get a hold of my breath, I gazed around the small dump, and noticed something I failed to spot out before. There was a white grocery bag hanging from the fence in the back corner of the junkyard. I figured that someone tried to throw it over, but it got caught on the fence on its way down.The bag seemed to be filled with something. It had blocky edges poking out from all sides. I know something as plain as a grocery bag isn’t much, but it still intrigued me. “Hey,” I said as I nudged Rich, who happened to be sitting next to me,”Look over there.”Dennis leaned out behind Rich, and looked towards where I was pointing.
        “So, it’s just a few rips. No one’s gonna care about whether or not the bags are torn.” Said Rich. He was pointing out the tears our shoes had left in the trash bags when we played our little game.
        “No, the grocery bag hanging from the fence.” I said,
        “So?”
        “Well, it’s filled with something.”
        “And?” Said Dennis. I shrugged,
        “Don’t you guys wanna know what’s inside?”
        “No,” Rich chuckled, “It’s just trash, man.”
        “What if it was something like jewelry?” I said as I stood, and made my way towards the grocery bag.
        “You’re just gonna find a dead cat in there, dude!” Dennis hollered as I struggled to climb the mound of garbage bags that blocked my path. His sentence was followed by the two of them laughing. I didn’t really care what they had to say. I was just a bit curious, that’s all.
        Once I made it to the other side, I reached for the grocery bag and grabbed it. Inside of it was a whole bunch of cassette tapes, and an old Walkman.
        “No way, you guys gotta see this.” I called to my friends,
        “Did you find the leprechaun’s gold?” Rich mocked,
        “Hold on, I’m coming.” Hastily, I climbed the pile of trash and walked back to where they were sitting.
        “Look at this.” I held the bag open, letting Rich and Dennis view it’s contents. I pulled out a tape and read it’s label,
        “Journal entry one,” I pulled out another, ” Entry three.” I read,
        “No way, it’s someone’s diary.” Said Dennis.
        “I wonder why they threw it away.” I said,
        “Probably because they realized how stupid they were for keeping a diary.” Said Rich.
        “Whatever,” I dropped the bag on the ground,” It’s one in the morining, we should be heading back.”
        “Woah woah woah,” Said Dennis, as he snatched the bag up from the pavement,” What the hell are you doing, man? Don’t you guys wanna listen to these?”
        “Well, it could be a bit funny.” Said Rich
        “Journal entry one,” Started Dennis in a stereotypical british voice,” I walked my dog, BonBon, today at the park and came a across a rather odd squirrel.”
        I laughed, “Dennis,  you’re such an ass. Fine, lets take them with us.”
        We left the junkyard, and continued to walk down the street towards my house. I remember how excited I was to listen to those tapes. Stupid, I know, but the thought of listening to someone’s personal life sounded interesting to me.
        Once we arrived at my house, I unlocked the door, and immediately walked towards the dining room. Dennis set the bag down in the center of the table and pulled out the Walkman, as three of us grabbed ourselves a seat. Eager to hear what it had to say, I siezed the first tape, put it in, and pressed play. I was suprised at what I heard. The voice wasn’t at all what I expected. It seemed to be a boy who sounded as if he was in his late teens. Hey, my name’s Chris, and I’m a Junior in highschool. I don’t have many friends, actually, I have none. I guess it’s just because people don’t like me, or maybe because I’m just too weird. I’m not weird, am I? Anyways, that’s not why I’m here. It’s actually because my uncle gave me this Walkman and a few tapes. He said that the Walkman used to be his, and that he just didn’t have the heart to throw it away, because he used it so much as a kid. So he made it my birthday present. Well, I didn’t have the heart to let it catch dust in the corner, so here I am, using it. Maybe it’ll come in handy one day, I don’t really know. Should I go on with telling about myself? Well, my favorite class is science, and I’m extremely bad at math. Blue is my favorite color, and I prefer dogs over cats. A door slams in the background, causing all of us to jump. That was my mom. Her and my dad have been arguing alot lately for reasons I can’t even bother to figure out why. I know for one thing that my dad is thinking about calling a divorce, which doesn’t really bother me. It would bother anyone else, though, but it doesn’t bother me. That’s not weird right? I’ve been hearing alot lately that I’m a little ‘weird’. I don’t see why, though. I eat, drink, sleep, and live like a normal human being. That’s what I think, anyways. Maybe it’s just because I’m not as talkative as everyone else, or what if everyone was just making it up, so that they would have a reason to pick on me. Frankly, I can’t see why anyone would want to pick on me in the first place. “What a loser,” Said Dennis, “I can see why people want to pick on him”. I shrugged,
        “Let’s just play the next one.” It’s January 14th, which is three days since I’ve made the last tape. I decided that I’m going to continue making tapes, and keep it as my journal. Who knows, maybe I’ll look back at these old recordings one day when I’m a bit older for a small dose of nostalgia. I’m making this a short one, because I have to leave in about five minutes. My mom’s taking me to some stupid jewelry party at one of our neighbor’s house because, according to her, I absolutely have to be there, or we’ll make a bad impression . So here I am, sitting in dress pants, a white button up, and a stupid tie. I don’t have dress shoes, so I just wore an old pair of Nike sneakers, which makes this situation about five hundred times worse. Maybe in the next tape I’ll talk about how the party went, hopefully it went well enough for me to talk about it. We looked at eachother and laughed.
        “Nike sneakers.” Rich muttered in an almost giggly tone.
        “Should I seriously play the next one? I’m not sure if I can handle listening to this for another ten tapes.” I asked. Dennis and Rich nodded with giant grins on their faces. January 16th, I was punched in the face at school today by a senior whose name is Jake. Honestly, I don’t even know the guy. To make my day even more wonderful, I ended up eating outside in the rain, because all the seats in the cafeteria were taken by the time I got back from the nurse’s office. I could’ve simply cleaned up the blood pouring from my nose by myself in the bathroom, but one of my teachers, Ms. Hoffington, insisted that I go see the nurse. While I was at the nurse, I managed to get a glimpse of myself when I passed the tall mirror that hung on the outside of the bathroom door. I was a bit amazed at the amount of blood that was smudged across my face. Actually, it was kinda cool. I felt a small amount of pride when I got a good look at my face. Probably because I’ve never actually spilt that much blood in my life before. Jake got suspended by the way. For a week to be exact. I think he should be expelled, so that I didn’t have to see him again. Oh yeah, and, uh,by the way, the jewelry party went well. No one noticed my Nike sneakers, and the food was good. A small amount of shock appeared on our faces. “Damn, he got punched in the face.” I said,
        “Well it serves him right. Someone must’ve known he was making stupid ass tapes in his bedroom.” Said Dennis,
        “How can you even be happy about getting a bloody nose?” Rich added, ” What the hell is wrong with him?”
        I shook my head,” I don’t know, man.” January 20th, While fooling around on YouTube for about two hours, I came across a weird documentary on something called the ‘Slenderman’. It’s an odd creature with no face, wearing what looks to be a suit, that has tentacles, giving it a dark, spidery look. It’s said to lurk in forests, and that once you see it, it stalks you before actually claiming you as its victim. No one really knows what the Slenderman actually does to his, or its, victims, and that all we really know is that they go missing without a trace. I guess alot of people are creeped out about this, and I can see why. The photos that depict him look pretty disturbing, but what actually generates the most fear are the stories about him. Actually, I’ve been listening to them all night, and I’m not scared at all, just intruiged. Turns out, these stories come from a site where people just write, and submit a whole bunch of creepy stories, and not all of them about the Slenderman. I’ve heard a couple that talk about lost episodes of famous Tv shows that depict some disturbing, twisted version of the actual show. I’ve also heard stories about serial killers, ghosts, and whatever else that’s remotely scary. Some are more gruesome, while others are just a bit eerie. I, for one, have never found any of these stories to be scary. I usually find myself thouroughly mystified as I read. We all glanced at eachother, a bit confused about what the Slenderman is. I guess the kid was a horror fan. I put in the next tape, and held my head in my hands, wanting to go to sleep. January 26th, Did I ever mention the site where I found all these stories from? It’s called creepypasta.com. Yes, I realize that it’s an odd name because an Italian dish is in no way creepy, but if you’re interested, check it out. You know, now that I think about it, these stories have showed me how much darkness can exist in this world. You’re never actually aware of it until you start thinking about it. What I’m saying is not crazy, it’s true. Darkness lurks in the hidden corners of everyday life. Right here, right now as I’m saying this, a person is getting brutally murdered. Immediately after he said that sentence, my head shot up and I looked at Dennis and Rich, bewildered at what I just heard. They shook their heads and shrugged. Somewhere out there a person is dying. Could be a full grown man, or a child. You never realized it until you heard me say it just now. But, hey, that’s the real world for you. Lately, I’ve been noticing how everyone else at my school is so blissfully ignorant to the horrible things in this world, while I’m being constantly reminded of it. No one sees what I see. It kinda makes them all look a little bit dumb. Don’t they see? Don’t they notice what happens around them? They hear sirens echo down the road, and it could just be a plain car crash, but what if it was caused by something far from our reach? They don’t know that. Their eyes aren’t opened wide enough to notice. At least I’m aware of it. February 2nd, Have you ever noticed how much death is involved in an average creepypasta. It’s almost as if death is a needed element in the story. You know, ever since I started reading these stories, I’ve become pretty comfortable with the thought of dying. Sometimes, I laugh at those poor, poor people in those stories. I guess they haven’t realized how much of a friend death could be, even when pain is the price you have to pay for meeting him. After all, aren’t we all going to face it one day? Sooner for some people, later for the rest. There was a long pause before he spoke again. I’ve been thinking about writing my own creepypasta soon. After reading everyone else’s, I figured I should try it for myself. It’s worth a shot isn’t it? I think I’m going to write one about the Slenderman, or maybe Jeff…Or maybe I’ll write a story about a man who goes crazy, and starts killing everyone he knows… That sounds like a wonderful idea. February 17th, They didn’t accept my story. What was wrong with it? Was my grammer off? Was the spelling bad? All I wanted was for it to be out there for everyone to see. Hell, it was probably one of the greatest ideas they ever came across, but… He voice became angrier and a bit frustrated, almost as if he was about to go off on a full blown rant. But they turned it down. Are they too stupid to see the brilliance in what I wrote? On top of that, I found two assholes who decided to read it, and make a mockery of my hard work. Idiots, they’re just a bunch of idiots who can’t see the genius in one’s work. A loud scream erupted from the speakers of the Walkman, and a hard thud was heard soon after. I figured that he had just thrown it out of anger. I wonder what his story sounded like, and why they turned it down. The next tape started, and we immediatly realized how angry he was. He spoke in a loud, irratable tone, which was almost terrifying. February 22nd, Stupid people. Stupid, stupid people. They should all rot in Hell for all I care. I shouldn’t have to deal with them everyday. Once I walk through that school’s front door, I’m surrounded by them. My teacher gave me a detention for not paying attention in class. Why should I? We’re all going to die. We’re all going to die someday, and there’s nothing we can do about it, but no one around me is smart enough to see that. Why? Why can’t they just open their eyes, and pay attention to the horrible world around us? They’re too preoccupied with their lives, and what comes tomorrow, instead of what comes at the very end. Did I tell you that I was pushed down the stairs today? Ben Trinner. He did it, and this time, I’m not letting it go. I’m going to find him, and he’s going to pay. You might be wondering how I’m going to get out of the house without my parents seeing me. It’s okay, they’re already gone. Dad’s still at work, and Mom- There was a short pause, and a slight chuckle arose from his voice. Mom’s taken care of.  He’ll find her when he gets home, and I’m not coming back. I don’t have to deal with them anymore.
        “What, what did he mean by ‘Mom’s taken care of?'” Asked Dennis in a hushed tone.
        “Do you think-”
        “No,” Rich cut me off, “There’s no way in Hell that little fucker did that. Play the next one.”
        I obliged and put in the next tape, a little scared of what I may hear. February 24th, I found an old warehouse in the outskirts of the town, and I’ve decided that that’s where I’ll be living from now on. The lights still work in the rooms where they’re not broken, and the boarded windows keep out most of the rain. It’s not that bad of a place, really. I stole all the money from my mom’s wallet, so food is already taken care of. In one of the rooms of the warehouse, I found a really old Tv. It’s a black and white one, and it uses a dial to change the stations. The reception’s a little bad, but I could still make out what’s happening behind all the static and whitenoise. I decided to change it to the news channel, and I was greeted with a picture of my mom. A loud, almost evil, laugh echoed from the speakers, which goes on for a few minutes. They think I’m dead, which is good on my end, because they won’t bother searching for me. Oh, the glory I felt when they announced how she had been stabbed five times in the chest. It made me feel a little bit excited to know that I have done such a thing. It wasn’t easy, but it sure was satisfying in the end. And now I have to find Ben. He doesn’t know it yet, but tonight is his last one on Earth. Luckily for me, his house is a few blocks from here. It’s eleven at night right now, and I should be finished by one. Wish me luck. I quickly put in the next tape, now a little bit more concerned with what was going on. Was he really going to kill that kid? It almost seems too real to just be a sick joke. But no matter how much I wanted to think it was just a joke, a frightening truth stood in the back of my mind, telling me that it was all true. February 25th, I’ve never felt so happy before in my life. You can’t even imagine the butterflies I got when I saw him gurgling his own blood in a worthless attempt of fighting for his life, and no one heard a thing. I was able to open one of the first floor windows without a hitch, thank God. It took me about thirty minutes to walk up the stairs without making a noise. I had to be careful, for even the slightest of all noises can awake someone. When I got to his room, I was able to open the door without him waking up. And everything else that followed seemed to happen so quick, almost as if my memories of the event were a flip book. I quickly covered his mouth before I dragged the knife across his throat, severing his jugular. I wanted to laugh at his squirming body as he died, but I didn’t, out of fear of waking his parents. I pulled open his bedroom window, jumped out, and ran. I think I hurt something in my foot when I landed, but I didn’t care. All I could feel was the cold, bitter wind slicing across my smiling cheeks as I ran. I’m back at the warehouse now, and it’s 1:45 in the morning. I have the Tv switched to the news, waiting to hear about my newest accomplishment. We all looked at eachother, still a bit traumitized from what we had just heard. An uneasy atmosphere hung in the room. He killed him, and no matter how much we didn’t want to believe it, we knew it was true. I hesitantly put the next tape in the socket, and pressed play. Immediatly, a loud, abrupt white noise blasted from the speakers, making us all almost fall out our seats. Even though that would be something we’d end up laughing about, no one broke a smirk. I grabbed the next tape and put it in, turning down the volume before I pressed play, fearing that there would be more static. I heard a faint voice, signaling me to turn the volume back up. This time, the kids voice sounded a bit huskier, pointing out that it has been year or two since his last tape. January 17th, It’s been a while since I made one of these. Well, a few weeks ago I was kicked out of the warehouse. I had to move my location, since the police were planning to investigate the area on account of the recent murders. He started to laugh again. The sound of it was almost sickening, and added a sense of dread to the atmosphere. Seven, seven people have died since I’ve made my last tape, and each murder has become more gruesome and disturbing as the last. The last person’s eyes were gouged out, and their wrists broken. There was no rhyme or reason to why I did it. I did it simply because I HAD to. It’s just not enough. I need to kill. It’s the thing I find the most pleasure in. It’s even more fun to hear it announced to the public. Anyways, the police are investigating the area to find the body of another one of my victims. They suspected that it was the same killer as the last dozen, and they weren’t wrong. So, I’ve moved my location. I walked for quite a long time through the woods that bordered the southern part of my town, before I managed to enter the next town and take refuge there… It’s almost like those stories I took so much interest in. No, it’s exactly like those stories. What a dream to actually be part of my own Creepypasta, oh if only the rest of the world could hear about it. The next tape was the strangest, and most horrifying that night. When I pressed play, all we could hear was static, but after a while we heard what sounded like screaming. There was a certain quality to it… It sounded panicked and strained, as if the poor person’s throat gave out from screaming too long. January 22nd, You hear him. I know you do. That’s one of my newest… ideas. It makes me smile, seeing him beg and scream for help, knowing at this point nothing could save him. Why don’t you give up hope, my dear friend? You see, death is inevitable for you, and theres no escaping it now. But, hey, you shouldn’t have been walking around town so late. You know that there are terrors hiding in the corner every night, and that you should avoid them. But then you came across me. He started to laugh again. The sound of it made me want to throw the Walkman at the wall, hoping to stop the evil laughter, but I knew I had to keep listening. The best part is, he’s not even restrained. I broke his legs, making it impossible for him to walk. He should be proud to be the first one of my victims to die like this. I realized that every time I kill someone, I do it too quick, to the point where it’s not as… satisfying as I hope it would be. But by bringing him here, I’m able to see him struggle for his life before it actually ends. Small bursts of static were heard, but even through all of that we could hear what was going on. We heard heavy, slow footsteps that faded away, as the distance between the Walkman and Chris grew. The screaming became louder, and more struggled. The sound of it alone made me want to puke. The screaming was then replaced with a horrible gurgling noise. Even through his blood filled throat, you can still hear him scream, begging for his life. I heard the familiar click and felt a bit relieved, but that quickly went away, as I realized that there was one more tape left. February 5th, I have come up with the most wonderful idea yet. And it’s probably the best one. I figured that instead of just a slow and hesitant death, I’m going to let them rot and decay in their own fears. Should I tell you what it is?….It’s a surprise, and I would hate to spoil it. The last tape clicked and we all looked at eachother with a grim look on our faces. We knew what we had just witnessed in the past ten minutes, but none of us wanted to acknowledge it, or believe it was real. After sitting in silence for what seemed like about twenty minutes, I spoke up, “What do you think the suprise is?”
Rich abruptly sat up and pushed in his chair,
        “I don’t know, man, and I don’t want to know,” His voice had an uneasy feel to it. It almost sounded as if he were a bit frustrated, “I’m leaving. I don’t want to take part in anymore of this.”
I stopped him,”Wait, you can’t go. What are we going to with the tapes?”
        “Fucking burn them. Get rid of them. Pretend it didn’t happen. I’m leaving,” Said Rich
        “Dude, calm down. We have to figure this out. We have to know who he is. He could still be out there.” I said. Dennis cut in,
        “We should hand them over to the police. Maybe they could do something,”
        “Really? And you know what else the police would do if we give these to them? Fucking nothing. We gotta figure this out on our own,”
        “Oh yeah?” Started Dennis, “You wanna solve this big mystery? I know you want to know who he is, but you shouldn’t try messing with something that could kill you,”
        “Sure, he might kill me, but he also might kill a shitload of other people. We have to figure out where this fucker is.”
        “You’re not some kind of hero, Jake. I wouldn’t bother messing with it.” Said Rich
        “I’m not trying to be a hero. What do you guys think I’m gonna do? Walk outside with a flashlight, and call his name like a lost dog? All I want to do is some research, that’s all.” We stood in an uneasy silence for a moment.
        “Why were those tapes hanging on the fence in the first place?” Asked Dennis. He was right. Why were they hanging on the fence?
        “Do you think someone had already found them and was trying to get rid of them?” I asked.
        “Look guys,” Said Rich,” It’s, like, three in the morning. We’re all a bit tired, and we’re all a bit confused, so trying to figure this out now would be useless.” Dennis and I looked at eachother and nodded a bit sheepishly, realizing how true the statement was. Rich started to walk towards the door, and Dennis followed him soon after. “I’ll catch up with you later, Jake.” Said Rich as he opened the door, making his way out. Dennis waved a goodbye at me and shut the door behind him. The sound of the door clicking shut gave me a sense of finality, and the silence that followed afterwards was almost sickening. I walked into the living room, and turned on the tv, hoping to uplift the heavy atmosphere the tapes have caused. I grabbed my laptop, sat on the couch, and turned it on. While it was starting up, I looked into the dining room, staring at the cassette tapes and walkman that still sat on the table until I heard the Windows 7 start up sound call for my attention. I immediatly opened up Google and searched for murders and deaths in this area, but nothing came close to what Chris had described. I tried looking for the school he went to, hoping I would get some clues, but that didn’t work either. I sat for a second, staring at the Google search bar, until I came across an idea. I clicked on the URL box and typed in ‘www.creepypasta.com.’ A site with a black background and white text came up, with the simple heading “Creepypasta.com”. I scrolled through the page, and read some stories and announcements. “This is what he was obsessed over?” I muttered to myself. Sure, some of these stories are kinda scary, but it certainly wasn’t anything that can drive someone to kill. How long has this site even been up? It doesn’t seem that old. This was probably around since my Senior year. I shut down the laptop and turned off the tv. After I got up, I walked into the dining room, and shoved all the tapes back into the bag. I decided that I would hand the tapes over to the authorities the next morning. I barely went to sleep that night, because I was still shooken up over what I had witnessed earlier. And as I layed in bed…it almost seemed as if there was a presence, like someone besides myself was there. I quickly shrugged it off as my paranoid mind causing me to feel things that weren’t even there, and fell asleep soon after. When I awoke it was around twelve in the afternoon. I had slept late, which isn’t suprising, considering I went to bed at around five. I didn’t even bother to eat or brush my teeth after I got up. I just got dressed, grabbed the tapes,  and got in the car. The tapes and Walkman were sitting in the passenger seat. They seemed to emit some uneasy feeling throughout the ride, which only made me more eager to get rid of them. When I arrived at the police station, I quickly grabbed the tapes and entered the building. I didn’t even bother to turn the car off. The building’s lobbey was vacant, and the only person who was there was the cop sitting at the desk, sipping coffee and filling out paper work. I dropped the bag onto the counter, causing the man to look up from his work. “Can I help you?” He said in a somewhat irratable tone.
        “I-I think I solved a few dissapearances.”
        He raised an eyebrow at me, and glanced towards the filled grocery bag that sat on his desk.
        “Those?” He asked. I nodded quickly. He sighed, grabbed the bag, and put it on the floor next to him,
        “Alright, I’ll present it to the authorities when I can.”
        “Aren’t you the authorities?” I asked, a bit frustrated at how little he was concerned.
        “Listen, I only hand out speed tickets and search for lost parents at the mall. But right now, I’m doing this here paperwork, and when I get the chance I’ll hand them over to authorities.” I nodded with some dissapointment and left, relieved that I didn’t have to be close to those tapes anymore. Once I got home, I grabbed my mail and opened the front door. As I made my way into the living room, I tossed the stack of bills onto the table. I was suprised to hear something hard hit the wooden surface. When I looked back I noticed that the manilla folder that layed among the white envelopes wasn’t filled with sheets of paper, but a small object. A bit curious, I went back and opened it. I cringed when I saw what the folder had revealed. Inside the folder was a small, black cassette tape labeled, “Entry 15.” No, this wasn ‘t possible. It had to be Rich or Dennis. There is no way another tape was sent to me. We were the only ones who listened to them that night. And I was certain no one saw us, except for a few cars that passed when we were walking down the street. I wanted to hear what the tape said, but I remembered I gave the walkman to the police. I searched my basement for a radio, anything, that I could play this tape in. I had  to know what it said. Finally, after searching for what seemed like an hour, I came across a box in the basement that had a small cassette player inside. Hastily, I grabbed the dusty object from the box, and ran back up stairs. As soon as I reached the table, I put the tape inside the player and pressed play, hoping to hear that this tape and the other’s were just a sick joke one of my friends had planned out. But once I heard the voice, my stomach dropped, and I felt as if I were going to puke. April 12th, Hello Jake what did you think about my game? It took me a while to get it ready, but it was all worth it. I knew your curious little mind wouldn’t be able to help itself. I’m surprised at how smoothly this all went out, actually. You and your friends barely noticed me when I put that bag on the fence. And you went and grabbed it, almost as if it was on cue…Are you still surprised, Jake? I’ve been keeping a close watch on you ever since I killed Ben, but I never actually carried out anything ’till now. I knew I had to save the best for last just for you. And now that I think about it, the waiting was all worth it. I’m shocked, Jake. You seem like you don’t even recognize me at all. Don’t you remember punching me in the face back in highschool? I started to hear the sound of leaves shuffling. It sounded as if he were walking through the woods. You guys look pretty scared over what you heard in that last tape. I can see it right through the window.
Once the tape had stopped, slowly and unwillingly, I looked towards the window on the south side of the dining room. There was nothing there except for the bushes that stood directly in front of the glass.Terrified, I ran towards the phone to call the cops. When I heard a voice on the other end, I jumped into a panic.
        “Hello!”  I desperately asked the phone. As I spoke, I patrolled the house, making sure that all of the windows and doors were locked.
        “Oh, it’s you again,” Said the policeman I met earlier, “Listen, I told you I would get to it when I ca-”
        “Someone’s after me. I just recieved another tape in my mail, and there were threats directed towards me on it, I think it’s the same person who made the tapes I gave you. He’s going to kill me.”
The officer spoke in a bored tone, “Well make sure that everything’s locked up, first,” He paused, “Now, are ya sure it’s not just one of your friends trying to mess with ya?”
        “I’m absolutely sure it’s not one of my friends. Please, send someone out here.” I pleaded
        “Sorry, but all you can do for now is to make sure that no one can get in. Just go up to your room and quietly read a book or something.” I slammed the phone back onto the hook. He’s not listening to me. I grabbed my laptop, and headed up to my room. I didn’t notice before, but I was the Jake Chris had mentioned in one of his tapes. And now he was back to get me, just like how he had killed Ben. I shut my door behind me and locked it, hoping it would serve as an extra layer of defense. I decided that I would document what had happened to me, and submit it to creepypasta, so that it could serve as a warning to everyone out there. And that’s how I got to here, typing desperately on my laptop. I just heard some glass break downstairs, and I’m becoming more terrified by the second. I’m going to try to finish this up the best I can. Please, for everyone’s sake, if you happen to have a “thing” for scary stories, don’t get too obsessed, or you may turn into what you originally have feared. If not, then watch out for those who are vulnerable to becoming the monster that Chris is. Chris, honestly, I hope you’re happy. You have your own creepypasta, and you live in what you admire so much. You were right, the darkness in a simple scary story is more real than I thought. Credit To: TVATR Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.