The Story of Time-travelling Dad

This is the story of time-traveling dad. He died in 1997 after buying his son a 2012 mustang and then being killed by the Rake.

My name is Ralph, but most people simply refer to me as “time traveling dad”. It’s quite a long story why. You see, I am a dad. I also time travel. I’m sorry if that was confusing. It all started when I went to a spooky hotel on Halloween.
I was on vacation, and I had rented a room in a hotel in a small town called Dred. My room number was 13 and I would be staying for only one night. When I drove to the top of a hill in the middle of a dark secluded forest built next to an Indian burial ground, the hotel was right in view. It was old-looking and cast a gloomy gloom that shrouded the area very gloomily. I pulled into the seemingly empty parking lot and opened my car door. I went around to my trunk and opened it. I pulled out my suitcase and gun that I call “Pacemaker”. Suddenly I heard a noise.
It was a scary noise.
Looking out into the dark forest, the only source of light a dim streetlamp, I saw a tall figure that looked like a man. The man was very skinny. A synonym for that would be… slender.
The figure approached me. I just stood there and waited. I waited to see what this person would do. Suddenly it became apparent that this was no ordinary person. He/she/it was not walking, but instead just… appearing. I was starting to get the %$#& scared out of me so I quickly picked up my stuff and ran for it. I ran straight through the entrance of the hotel and kept running until I noticed something. It was completely silent. No one was in the hotel at all. I noticed a key card sitting on the desk in the main lobby. It said “room number 13” and looked like a normal hotel key card. There was a red stain on the back.
Looking out the window, I saw the slenderish man-dude waiting right out in the parking lot. I could get a better look at its facial features. There happened to be none. I was getting more creeped out so I decided to look for my room. As I passed by the breakfast buffet area, I saw a CD on a table. Written on the front in sharpie was “Knuckles.exe”. I didn’t bother with the DVD but instead kept moving.
The hotel was rather small. There were only two floors. The main floor had the lobby and all the bedrooms and stuff. The top floor was a dark, unsafe, and deadly maintenance area with a KEEP OUT sign on the front.
I decided I would look in there later.

As I walked down the hallway, I peered into each room. Each door had a small window on it. In one room, I saw a gray cartoon character sitting on a bed, crying silently. In another room, I saw nothing but red.
Finally I got to room 13. Inside, I was surprised to see the living conditions were fairly comfortable. There was a king-sized bed, a sofa, a large HD TV, and a mini bathroom with shower. I unpacked all my stuff and locked the privacy lock. Then I sat down on the sofa. Perhaps some television would calm my nerves.
The hotel only received three channels. The first was static, and the other two, channel 17 and 21 were both very weird. On channel 21 was some poorly filmed show called “Mr. Bear’s cellar” and on channel 17 was a show called “Candle cove”. Neither show particularly interested me. Something seemed quite off about both of them. After about five minutes I heard a knock at the door and a kid’s voice calling,
“Sir, could you please let me in? I don’t know where my parents are.” I peered out the window and saw that the kid’s eyes were completely black. It was very creepy. So, I took out “pacemaker” and shot him dead.
After that, I decided to go to bed. It wasn’t very late, but I was bored. I started to fall asleep, but was suddenly reawaken by yet another knock at the door.
Grudgingly, I got up again and walked to the door. Directly outside was a white-faced man with a knife. He had dark, sunken eyes, long, matted hair, and a large red smile. The knife he held was rather sharp.
“Are you having sleep troubles?” he cackled outside the door. I rolled my eyes and muttered,
“I wouldn’t, if you didn’t interrupt my sleep.” I took out Pacemaker and blew his brains out. Five seconds later, a duplicate of the weird looking person appeared at my door. This one was exactly the same in every way. The knife was the same too. I shot his brains out as well.
Again, the same thing happened. This time, five more appeared.
“Why are there so many of you?!”I screamed.
“We are the Jeff the Killer clones from across the internet and crappypasta,” said one of them. All the Jeffs began to try to break down the door. I backed up and held Pacemaker tightly.

There are many ways this story might end. Here are three.

1. |The “Happy with a twist” ending|

I pulled the trigger back on Pacemaker, squeezing out several shots. Then I turned around and went out the window next to the bed. I ran to my car and put the key in the ignition. Then I drove away as fast as I could. As I sped away, suddenly I realized something was not right.

I had left my suitcase inside the hotel…

2. |The “Stereotypical” Ending|

I pulled the trigger back on Pacemaker, squeezing out several shots. Suddenly I felt lightheaded. I passed out. Later I awoke in a hospital room. I could hear a nurse saying,
“The patient has woken.” A man responded,
“I just know this all could have been prevented had he not taken too many Claritin pills.”
He must have been a doctor. I could tell by the way he spoke. Also, his name tag said he was an M.D. Why was I in a hospital? What about the hotel place? Maybe I had been dreaming about the hotel stuff. The doctor and nurse left. I looked on the bedside table. There was a “get well soon” card on it. It had a picture of a man with a bleach-white face and large smile. In scrawled handwriting were the words “Go to sleep.”

3. |The “Were You Even Trying?!” ending|

I pulled the trigger back on Pacemaker, squeezing out several shots. All of them hit the Jeffs. Within three seconds the fight was over. Yay.

“I am so glad that I didn’t have to work hard to write this ending,” said the author. “I love copouts!”
“Well, now what am I going to do?!” wondered Time-travelling Dad.
“Here, have an all expense paid trip to Tibet with one friend,” said the author, and Time-travelling Dad noticed that he was stepping on two plane tickets.
“But, hold on,” said Time-travelling Dad, “You never explained why I’m called Time-travelling Dad! This story had literally NOTHING to do with time-travel!”
“So?” said the author. “Maybe I made the title a LITTLE misleading, but I’ll leave it to the reader’s imagination.”
“Now, hold on a second!” said TD.
“I haven’t got the time,” explained the author. “You see, I’m going to write a story that will be SUPER AWESOME! It will be called ‘Jeff the Killer vs Candlejack.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Time-travelli

Credit To – Legodan3 (original idea by Yossarian on crappypasta)