Not A Creepypasta: The Story of Blake Hartman

Chapter Two: That smile. That damn smile. ( + obligatory fight scene)

Blake woke up, and she was fine. Absolutely fine. This development was more confusing for her than it was relieving. She now had the lucidity to understand that this was a Slenderman attack. Nobody was supposed to come out of those alive, let alone unscathed! She sat up, realizing that she was now in a different part of the forest altogether. Before even looking at anything, she felt packed dirt beneath her. When she did look around, she saw structures poking out in between trees. Behind her was a very small approximation of a pirate ship, which had a ramp leading up into it. She realized that she was now on the property of Tori Gnoll, who owned a small Renaissance faire. Luckily, Blake had gotten Tori's blessing to be on the property and investigate. Still, there was something in the air that made Blake feel like a trespasser.

She knew that the fairgrounds were haunted. Someone important to this fair had passed away a few weeks before its grand opening 14 years ago. Heck, there were even rumors of childlike spirits running around, although no child deaths were ever reported. The people who played the role of the Vikings in the festival even believed that the trees themselves could talk if one only listened hard enough. Blake, ever the believer of such rumors and tales, trusted every word of it.

But how could she have possibly ended up here? She was deep in the woods when she passed out, far beyond the property of the Renaissance faire. And, perhaps more importantly, why was she here? Blake instinctively tried to reach into her bag, only to realize that the whole thing, as well as its contents, was missing.

"Goddammit!" Blake shouted. A few birds were startled by the sudden noise and flew away, but Blake didn't really care. The equipment in that bag, as well as the bag itself, had cost her a lot of money. Of course, she probably shouldn't have shouted her frustrations, because someone or something would be bound to hear, especially in a forest like this.

And someone did. Blake's eyes locked onto something in the distance, barely visible among the trees. She walked down the dirt path she was on, trying to get a better look at it. It appeared to be completely white from the waist up and completely black from the waist down, with a rat's nest of black hair hanging from its head. It... almost looked human. Almost. There was something off about it that she just couldn't pinpoint from this far away. Without her equipment, she was a little hesitant to approach. Would it be worth it? If it was paranormal, she obviously couldn't document its existence without a camera. So, instead, Blake opted to wait. If she could see it, it more than likely could see her, so she wanted it to make the first move.

Of course, Jeff was more than happy to do that for her. Gleeful, even. Brandishing a large kitchen knife, Jeff sprinted for her like a big cat chasing a gazelle. Blake saw that Jeff definitely moved as a real person would, but the closer he got, the more deformed he looked. Blake didn't actually realize that she was supposed to be running right about now, so she just kind of... watched Jeff get closer with determined, calculating eyes. She was still trying to figure out what he was. As soon as she was within stabbing range, Jeff whispered,

"Go to sleep," in a tone that conveyed complete and utter lunacy and raised the knife lightning-fast. Blake, however, was also lightning-fast in her reaction, grabbing the arm holding the knife to slow down its movement and kicking Jeff where it counted. She may not have been scared, necessarily, but she felt a sense of duty to stay alive and show the world her research, which was a pretty good substitute for fight or flight. Jeff, meanwhile, bent over in pain for a moment, as Blake started running away, giggling in a strange, childlike intonation.

"Ahahahaha! Wow, this is thrilling!" She exclaimed, smiling as if this entire scene was a non-threatening roller-coaster instead of a life-or-death situation. Jeff started running after her. For some strange reason, he could kind of relate Blake's excitement, although his mind was a little too far gone to understand why. So, the pair started running around the fairgrounds, both having fun, and neither really getting that the other was having fun. Jeff caught up to Blake more than once, but Blake always seemed to be able to fend him off using dirty tricks like running around trees and changing direction randomly, until eventually, both were out of breath. Jeff was determined, though, and he approached Blake one final time with his knife, to which Blake responded by using two fingers to jab him in the eyes. If he can't close them, he can't protect them, either.

"Ever- whew- ever considered eye drops, there, buddy?" Blake asked, panting. Jeff took a moment to catch his breath. He had no idea how to respond to this. None of his victims had ever acted quite like this before.

"I dunno, have you ever considered being less annoying?" He said indignantly. In a way, he was just a little salty about not being able to kill this random person who he should have been able to overpower easily.

"Hey, if anyone's being annoying here, it's you," Blake responded, "I take it you're the one who took my bag, too, right?" Jeff gave Blake the most confused look that his relatively inexpressible face could muster.

"Uh, no?"

"Really? Dammit. There go my granola bars. And my EMF reader. And my EVP recorder. And my night vision camcorder. And my pepper spray. And my salt. And-" The list went on and on. Jeff took this opportunity to try to attempt murder again, because, y'know, third time's the charm. Blake turned around and bitch-slapped him, which was more surprising than painful, given that his leathery face couldn't really feel pain after the fire.

"Could you not?" She said, mildly irritated about the whole murder thing. Jeff's eyes would have narrowed had he not burned his own eyelids off a while ago. Then, Jeff froze, as if he was hearing something. Without another word, he stormed off, seeming to disappear into the trees.