When you were young, do you remember going to campsites and stuff like that? Where you have to sleep in the wilderness for one night and try to at least not die in the process? Do you remember those times when you and your friends sat around a bonfire telling creepy stories? Well this story was one of which that I remember so clearly. it goes like this…
I’ve been lying down for hours now. It’s 3:15 AM and there’s not much I can do. You know what the worst part about my situation is? I’m in the same room as my parents. They keep looking at me, and I can’t help but look back and try not to cry or scream. Their eyes are focused on me and their mouths are wide open. There’s a strong scent of blood and I feel paralyzed with fear.
Here’s the thing. The second I make any hint that I’m not asleep anymore, I’m completely f*cked. I will die and there’s nobody around to save me. I’ve been trying to think of a way out but the only idea I have is to rush for the front door and scream for help, hoping any of my neighbors hear me. It’s risky, but if I stay here, I’ll surely die. He’s waiting for me to wake up and see his masterpiece.
You’re probably wondering what’s going on.
About three hours ago, I heard screaming from the other side of the house. I got up and went to check on the noise before realizing I had to use the restroom. Instead of doing the smart thing and investigating, I used the bathroom first. I would’ve gotten myself killed right there for my stupid actions. I did my business and took a peek outside the bathroom. There was blood on the carpet. I got very worried and ran back to my room, hiding under the sheets like the p*ssy I was. I tried to convince myself to go back to sleep, and that it was just some really vivid dream or something.
But I heard my bedroom door open. Like the terrified child I was, I peeked out from under my blankets to see what was going on. I could see someone dragging my dead parents into the room. He was a bald guy with a mask. He looked like a psychopath, tall and slender, with its back straight as timber as it dragged my parents. But unlike most psychopaths. It seems that he was aware of what he was doing.
He propped my dad up on the edge of my bed, and made him face me. He then sat my mother down in the chair and positioned her towards me as well. He then started rubbing his hands on the walls, staining them with blood and then drew a circle with what seemed to be a lotus flower. He had made what he would probably call a masterpiece. To finish it off, he scribbled a message into the wall that I could not read in the darkness.
He then positioned himself under my bed waiting to strike.
The scariest thing now is my eyes have adjusted to the darkness since then, and I can read the message on the wall. I don’t want to look at it, because it’s terrifying to think about it. But I feel I need to see, before I’m killed.
I peek at the psychopath’s masterpiece.
“I know you’re awake.“