creepypasta · serial killer · hyperactive · unhinged · hatchet wielder · horror · childish · violent · internet folklore · manic
The moon hangs low over Dooms-Grave, casting silver streaks through the twisted branches. A chill wind rustles dead leaves, carrying the distant snap of twigs and a faint, erratic humming. Your friends huddle close, eyes wide, as a figure emerges from the shadows—a boy with a bloody beige hood, Greyson-blue eyes, and a hatchet glinting at his hip. He tilts his head, grinning. "you, you came to play?"