The Second Coming
It’s been a week since the program started. A program that I thought would be the easiest way to make fifty grand within a week, but things turned to shit on the third day of a project called The Second Coming. Eighteen people were involved in the project. Eight of us were observers. I was one of the observers, and our role was simple. We were gathered together in one room where we were to watch dozens of monitors that displayed everything going on in a makeshift town; one created for the program. If there was anything noteworthy going on, we would all write a little note about it. At the end of the day, we would read our notes out loud. It’s funny how different our perspective of every event was. Nine of the people were placed in the town as residents. Their role was simple as well. All they had to do was live like they normally do. Food, water, shelter, and entertainment was provided. The first couple of days, I was pretty jealous. Being an observer was downright boring most of the time. It seemed, at the time, that I had drawn the short end of the stick. Last but certainly not least, we had our Jesus. His role was not simple. He was the only one that had a direct line of communication with the people running the project, and they would let him know when it was time for him to create another “miracle”. The person they picked to take on the Jesus role was a wiry little guy. A bit shorter than average, with a body structure that matched that of a single chopstick. He had a squeaky voice and always looked to be dirty, even after bathing. His name was Chad and his appearance was far from impressive. The residents did not know about this fake Jesus. Shit, they were even given a completely different name for the program. For all they knew, this whole thing could have been one giant sleep study or something of the like. It’s safe to say they weren’t prepared for the coming days. The first three days were completely normal. The residents got to know each other – that night, a couple of them even paired up and went to sleep together. It doesn’t take a genius to know what they were doing. The second and third days were so boring that I found myself dozing off half the time, along with most of the other observers. The fourth day started off normal enough, but around 3 in the afternoon, Chad performed his first miracle. It wasn’t really anything marvelous, just a simple parlor trick that shouldn’t have duped a bunch of adults on the first try, but I suppose the people chosen to be residents in this experiment weren’t the sharpest group of people. They were all eating lunch when a woman started waving her arms frantically. Chad was face down in the middle of the swimming pool. When the other residents ran over, Chad stood up and walked on the surface of the water towards everyone. A couple of them fell on their knees while the others just stood in shock. I don’t really know how to describe the events of the next four days any differently than how I recorded them in my notes, so I’ll just copy them down here: Day Four: Chad was talking with one of the male residents. Everything seemed fine until the resident suddenly collapsed. It didn’t take long for the others to run over to them. Chad stared at the ground for a moment before kneeling down and touching the man on the forehead. Almost immediately, the guy jumped to his feet, good as new. Honestly, I don’t know how they did it. This is definitely a lot harder of a “miracle” to pull off than the one he performed the previous day. Day Five: We noticed a female resident standing atop a tall building. Neither me, nor the other observers, saw how she got up there. We watched in horror as she launched herself off of the building. Down below, a pool of blood oozed around her lifeless body as Chad and the other residents slowly walked over to the gory scene. Chad knelt down next to her and whispered a couple of words into her ear. She opened her eyes, and with a dazed look on her face, sat up and looked around at the other residents. The observers and I were in utter disbelief. We have absolutely no idea how he could have possibly done that. Day Six: All of the residents gathered together early in the morning. They were talking amongst each other; Chad, however, was nowhere to be seen. They all looked to be frightened. When Chad finally showed up, a couple of the residents grabbed him, while the rest tied him up so that he couldn’t move. They then took turns kicking, punching, stabbing, and spitting at him for what seemed like half a day. It took a while for Chad to die, but he didn’t struggle. Instead, he harbored a knowing smile on his face. They buried his body later in the evening. Day Seven: As soon as we turned on the screen, we instantly grew pale with shock. It looked like a massacre. Body parts were thrown around the entire town. Blood was smeared on almost every building, and on the middle screen, with the same smile on his face, was Chad. He was mouthing a phrase over and over again… “I’ll be back for you.” End Journal He vanished into thin air, and before any of us could react, the room became pitch black. I don’t know when I lost consciousness, but I woke up in my bedroom this morning. I eventually checked my bank account and saw that my payment for the experiment was deposited. Still unsure of how I made it back home, I checked my room for inconsistencies. Everything was exactly how I left it, except for a note on my mirror, and a small bouquet of white roses at the edge of my bed… Don’t worry. I’ll give you a couple of days to run as far away as you can. Love, Chad Credit: Hayong (Facebook • Reddit • Amazon) Publisher’s Note: The author requests that anyone who desires to narrate, perform, or adapt this story to any other format, or feature it on a YouTube channel, podcast, or other platform, contact them for permission before doing so. Use of the author’s work without this permission is strictly prohibited. You may reach the author here. Thank you! 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.