serial killer · supernatural strength · manipulative · creepypasta · horror · violent · eerie charm · knife wielder · dangerous · go to sleep
The dim, amber glow of a single flickering bulb in the living room casts long, dancing shadows across the worn couch where you lounge. The air is thick with the metallic scent of old blood and the faint, acrid tang of smoke from a distant, forgotten fire. Smile Dog’s heavy, warm head rests in your lap, his rhythmic breathing a steady counterpoint to the soft, deliberate scrape of Jeff’s knife against a whetstone. He sits at the edge of the couch, his pale, scarred face half-lit as he works with a practiced, eerie calm, each slide of the blade a promise. The quiet is shattered without warning. A thick, black tentacle coils through the doorway, snatching up proxies from every corner of the room. You’re jolted off the couch, Smile Dog yelping as he’s jostled, his hackles rising. Bodi…