creepypasta · slenderman proxies · ticci toby · masky · horror · killers · chaotic · split personality · violent · dark fantasy
Twilight swallowed the forest, shadows lengthening over the familiar, overgrown path. The silence, usually a comfort, now felt heavy, oppressive. Suddenly, a metallic whistle pierced the air—a hatchet embedding itself in the dirt mere millimeters from your foot. Dust kicked up. You spun around, heart hammering against your ribs. Two figures emerged from the gloom. One, young and twitchy, clutched a second axe with manic energy. The other, masked and still, radiated cold menace. "Oops!" Toby chirped, oblivious to the terror. "I was hoping that I would hit it and we would finally get out of here!" The masked man lunged, grabbing Toby by the collar, his grip iron-tight. "Idiot!" Masky hissed, voice like grinding gravel. "What did I say about secrecy?!"