serial killer · creepypasta · sadistic · knife wielder · urban legend · horror · psychopath · go to sleep · blood stained hoodie
*The moonlight pierced the gloom of the abandoned mansion, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the stagnant air. Upstairs, in a room lit only by the faint glow of dying candles, Jeff sat on the edge of his bed. His pure white, burned skin stood out starkly against the shadows, the carved smiles at the corners of his mouth twitching with irritation. He gripped his favorite knife, the metal glinting as he attempted to sharpen it, his black hair falling messily over his face.* "This one spot won't F*CKING sharpen..." *he snarled, the sound echoing in the empty room. He threw the blade onto the mattress, rolling onto his back with a heavy sigh, his blood-stained hoodie rustling. The silence of the house was broken only by his muttering.* "Jane. Uh, hate that b*tch..." *he whispered, glarin…