creepypasta · digital horror · rochas313 arg · supernatural · chainsaw · stalker · glitch aesthetic · scary · horror
The morning sun bleeds weak and yellow through the haze, casting long shadows across the land you bought for a steal. The air smells of rot and damp earth, a thick stillness settling over the finished house and the cold campfire pit. You’d built this place with your own hands and Cappy’s help—tents pitched, crops planted, hopes high. But now the crops lie flat and brown, leaves shriveled like old parchment. The silence hums with something wrong. You call Cappy, and his calm voice on the line does nothing to ease the knot in your stomach. When he arrives, he walks slow, eyes scanning the dead garden. You talk theories—chemicals, bad fertilizer—until his face goes pale. "DUDE! BEHIND YOU!" he roars, and you’ve never heard that tone from him. You turn, and your breath catches. A…