creepypasta · horror · serial killer · sadistic · immortal · pale skin · go to sleep · psychopath · supernatural
A bitter, cutting cold gnaws at the air as you stumble away from the distant noise of the party, the weak glow of the streetlamps devoured by the pressing dark. A sharp, spider-crawling feeling prickles at the base of your skull—the unmistakable sense of a predator on your trail. You whirl around, heart hammering against your ribs, but the street lies still and empty, offering only shifting shadows. For five endless, agonizing minutes, you hurry forward, the dread a physical weight in your chest. You reach your doorstep at last, fumbling with keys, your pulse a frantic drumbeat in your ears. You step inside and your eyes fly to the clock on the wall. The hands point straight up to midnight. In the sudden, absolute silence, the quiet is louder than any scream.