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“Ah, here it is! Listen:
Jimmy the Killer
Jimmy was a lonely kid, and he was always bullied in the school. One day the bullies got too far. They trapped him in an abandoned factory, and Jimmy finally decided to fend for himself. So he pulled out his katana, but the bullies also had swords, and they started to fight on a bridge over an acid vat. Jimmy defeated two of them and cut their heads off, but the third bully took out his bazooka and blew up the bridge. Because of this, Jimmy fell into the acid. His face became real pale, and his hair fiery red. Now he calls himself Jimmy the Killer, and before killing another victim he says: GET ASLEEP!”
Andy yawned and rubbed his eyes. “You know, I almost did,” he said.
“So, you didn’t like my story?” asked Jim.
Andy stood up, took a can of beer from a table and sat back on the couch. Jim still stared at him with hope.
“I’ve told you, Jim, you’re a shitty writer, and you know that. Accept it and move on with your life.”
“Well, that’s why I called you. I thought we can write a better story together.”
“What do you mean, together? All writers work alone.”
“No, not all of them. Besides, we’ll be the first ones to write a creepypasta together. Ain’t it cool?”
“Nah,” answered Andy. “That sounds stupid.”
“Please, Andy, is it that hard to help your friend? I really want to be a writer, but I need to start with something”
“Well, if you want it so badly, let’s do it. We only need to find something to write about, you know, something other than you and your issues.”
Jim leaned back in the chair near his computer.
“OK,” he said. “I got an idea, it’s cool and original. Let’s write about some chick who meets someone, maybe a doctor. They talk about some shit and then something strange is going on. At last, the girl looks at the doctor and says: ‘Hey, doc, why does your mouth move like this?’ And he says…”
“TO GRIND YOUR SKIN! Ooga-booga! The doctor is Skin-Taker! Yeah, that’s so original – to write another follow-up of Candle Cove. We need to find something fresh, man.”
Jim spent a few seconds deep in his thoughts, while Andy took a few sips of beer. At last, Jim jumped off his chair with an excited look on his face.
“I got it! A guy buys a video game and…”
“C’mon, video games are such an old cliché. It’s a really, really dead, rotten and putrid horse. Unless, you can do something cool with it, like creepy screenshots, video or even an actual game.”
“What shall we do then?”
“First of all, we have to decide what we are going to write about, come up with some new monster.”
“Go on, it’s your turn. How should our monster look like?”
“Well, I dunno, imagination is not my strong point. How about a disembodied hand that flies into the windows and drags people away?”
“A skinless woman with a knife?”
“An eight-eyed land kraken with ten eyes, horns, spider-like mandibles and a big toothed mouth?”
“I give up. We don’t need monsters anyway. Look at the classic creepypasta: it’s not monsters that scare us, it’s the atmosphere. The suspense. The feeling that there is something, something above our comprehension, something that can kill as at any moment… something-“
“Hey, I have another idea. A guy moves to a house. He hears some weird noises, sees some shadows. Suddenly, he starts seeing that his reflection in the mirrors acts strangely.”
“What happens then?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll come up with it later.”
“That’s the problem, Jim. First of all, you have to find a proper ending. In fact, the most important thing in every story is the ending. It’s that people are waiting for. If you don’t know how to finish your thing, what’s the point of starting it?”
“Maybe we should present it as a found manuscript which is partially destroyed? You know, only some part of the text can be read. It would look mysterious and disturbing.”
“Or you should better leave there an empty space and write something like YOU THINK NOTHING IS WRITTEN HERE? NO, IT’S HERE, BUT YOU CAN’T SEE IT! Or, WHAT YOU CAN’T SEE CAN KILL YOU! That, sure, would make everyone brown their trousers.”
Jim sighed. “By the way, we’re out of beer. Can you bring some cans from the fridge?”
Andy stood up and walked into the kitchen. As he opened the fridge, a sudden thought flashed through his mind. It appeared so quickly that he didn’t realize it before he came back into the room.
The lights in the kitchen were on.
The boys turned it off when they had left the kitchen.
However, Andy didn’t pay much attention to that. He handed Jim his beer can, and they continued their talk.
“Have you got any idea?” asked Andy.
“Well, thank you for your help, Andy, but I think I’ll just stick to Jimmy the Killer. Besides, girls find serial killers sexy.”
“Yeah, and so do the burly tattooed guys in the prison.”
Before Jim had a chance to answer him, his phone called.
“Hello,” said Jim.
“Hey, Jim,” said the hoarse voice on the phone. “What are you doing with my son?
Jim’s face grew pale. “N-nothing,” he muttered. “We were just writing stories.”
“What? Writing creepy stories without my permission?! This is unacceptable, young man! You, young folks, don’t appreciate your little lives and make up stories about death. Well, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
As the mysterious caller hung up the phone, Jim sat still in the chair with a frightened look on his face.
“Andy,” he said with a gulp. “I thought your daddy… ugh, I thought your daddy…”
“He’s dead,” said Andy. “Why are you talking about him?”
“Then who was-“ Jim looked at his cell phone, confused. “Who was… no, it’s ridiculous. Maybe, he just travelled in time? No, this isn’t happening!”
“What isn’t happening, Jim?”
The lights in the room started to flicker. Andy jumped up and started to dart around the room, panicked.
“What’s going on?” he screamed.
Jim still sat in the chair petrified. A loud thud sounded behind the door, lights continued flickering, and Andy’s can fell off couch spilling the beer on the carpet. It lasted for two minutes, and then the boys found enough courage to walk toward the front door and take a look of the unwanted visitor. They stood in the hallway for a while, and only after that Jim opened the door and man claws hands eyes scream ribs blood guts blood.
Neither Jim, nor Andy was ever seen again.
Credit To – CandleClock