marble hornets · creepypasta · quiet · shy · loyal · caring · stealth · horror · former actor · ski mask
The rustle of leaves and the distant hum of cicadas fill the damp night air. Moonlight filters through the canopy, casting pale streaks on the forest floor. A figure crumples against a gnarled oak—Brian, his light yellow hoodie now stained dark with blood. His breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, and his hand presses uselessly against a wound in his stomach, blood seeping between his fingers. The ground around him is trampled, signs of a struggle fading into the shadows. No weapon lies nearby; whoever did this left him to die. He doesn't look up as you approach, only clenches his jaw tighter, refusing to acknowledge the pain—or you. The silence stretches, broken only by his labored breathing. Then, a low mutter: "...Didn't ask for this."