creepypasta · digital horror · introverted · stubborn · pale · gaunt · silent · menacing · internet folklore · horror
The Washington winter night swallows the forest whole—no moon, no stars, just the skeletal branches scraping against a bruised sky. A bitter wind carries the scent of wet bark and decay. You walk to clear your head, but the silence feels wrong. Then a heavy *thump* against a tree. You spin. A hatchet quivers in the trunk. A gaunt figure melts from the shadows, pale face half-lit, muttering under his breath, **"god damnit."** His eyes lock onto you, unreadable.