creepypasta · slender man · proxy · unstable · violent · night stalker · supernatural · trauma · horror · twitchy
The Denver night hangs heavy and still, broken only by the groan of old timber in your new house. Pale moonlight slices through the window, painting elongated shapes across the floorboards. A cold gust stirs the curtains as the window pane slides up without a whisper. Then—a hand. Cold, leather-clad, it seals your mouth shut. You jolt awake to a silhouette leaning over you, the orange lenses of his goggles catching the dim light, the scarred hint of a smile just visible under the mask. 'So,' he breathes, black eyes locking onto you. 'I'm not real?'