Just Another Creepypasta Fanfic

As time flew by, the sun hid itself from view, hiding in the faraway landscape, on the run.

Just like me.

I ran until my feet couldn't take it anymore. By the time that happened, I felt like I just ran a marathon. Which I kinda did. The good thing is, I stopped near a clearing, which was almost too good to be true. Go figure!

Me: -reading the book- hmm... Campsite... Campsite..... Ah! Here it is! -points wand towards ground-

Let me introduce myself, my name is Merlyn Du'pre, I'm 15 and a half and I'm able to use magic. My grandma, Glenda, is dead. I had just escaped from a homicide, taking all of my things with me with a twirl of my wand, and a very roomy duffel bag, not leaving a trace of my existence.

I am now officially without a legal guardian, and there's no way in hell that I'm getting a new one.

Within seconds (not to mention a blinding flash of white light) a tent, appeared before me, along with a campfire, sleeping bag, weenies to char, and the wonderful ingredients used to make s'mores! You gotta love being a witch! Though, now I feel like Wistera Allgood from that one James Patterson book. Hmm....

Feeling completely pooped, I sat down and devoured my campfire dinner. I then proceeded to relax by putting on a pair of fuzzy hamburger patterned pyjama shorts and a shirt with America (from the anime Hetalia Axis Powers) holding a his own burger while saying the infamous line : "and the hero is me!". (be jealous!)

slipping matching slippers on to my petit feet, I laid down on my sleeping bag, not bothering to unzip it. Getting out a dog eared copy of the second volume of Soul Eater, I started reading under the light of the fire, trying to forget what had just happened.

Within an hour and a half (I'm a slow reader, don't judge.) I had finished said awesome manga. So I returned it to my bag.

Just because I'm a witch, doesn't mean that I have to use magic for every single thing I do. I actually use it pretty rarely.

I put my scarlet, mauve-streaked hair into a bun using a brown scrunchie. Taking off my glasses, I went to temporarily kill the fire using the ashes around it.

Well, at least I was about to.

I heard the sound of dried up brush being stepped on around the perimeter of my campsite. It looked like I had some unexpected visitors. The hairs on my neck stood up as I sniffed the air around me. Accompanied by the familiar smell of the campfire, my nose detected the odor of dried blood, vodka, and bleach.

I turned around hoping for either a psychotic alcoholic rapist or 2p Russia. Instead, I saw nothing but my tent, illuminated by the light of the campfire.

Then I heard it.

???: GO TO SLEEP. -psychotic laughter-

Me: -turns around for the second time- GAH, WHAT THE FUCK?!

I saw a pale white teenage boy, about my age. He was wearing a white bloodstained hoodie and black skinny jeans (scene much? Hue hue hue, homophones.) And white converse. His face had a "chelsey smile" and his pupils were white. The kid's black, shoulder-length hair made him look like a complete gayfer (even though I respect gays, but still.)

I looked at boy. He stood there, hyperventilating as if he had asthma, just waiting for me to make a move.

Now, being the type of person who could give Freddy Crooger the finger, I looked the little punk straight in the eye with a look that said "are you fucking kidding me".

Me: -raised an eyebrow, unfazed- you're an ugly little fucker, arncha?

Don't try this at home, kids.

He was completely pissed off. Lunging at me with a butcher knife, which was in his right hand the whole time. I dodged it, nonchalantly taking a step to the side. He stumbled and fell on his (-cough cough- hideous -cough cough-) face, his knife getting stuck in the fertile dirt around us.

I laughed, mockingly.

Me: fuck sleep, ain't nobody got time for that.

With a twirl of my wand, I made the campsite disappear. I ran into the woods, duffel and my own messenger bag in hand, hoping he wouldn't follow. As much as I wanted to put the guy in his place, Hetalia pyjamas just weren't the right apparel to kick ass.

Little did I know....

I left my kitty bell collar on.

Oh dear.

As I dashed further into the woods, my black and silver choker was pinpointing my location, making the effort useless. I gave up and stood where I was. Facing the fact that I had to beat him to a pulp in the wrong getup.

He approached me slowly, as I stood there, tapping my right foot impatiently. 'can't he just hurry the fuck up?' I thought.

Me: any day, now, jackass.

He ran up to me in a failed attempt to stab me once more. I dodged again, slapping the knife out of his hands in the process. He stood there, baffled, as I took the chance to kick him in the jaw and pin him to a nearby tree with my right foot once my left one touched the ground. I once again grabbed my wand from the side pocket of my messenger bag, this time, I pointed it at him, grinning mischievouly.

Me: any last words before I turn your sorry ass into a widdwe bunny wabbit? It's opened season, y'know.

???: as I said before, go to sleep, bitch.

I was about to mercilessly turn him into the fattest bunny alive, when I heard the sound of wood hitting bone, accompanied by a sharp pain at the back of my head. I fell down a few seconds later, I mean, why wouldn't I? As I was losing consciousness, I saw two figures talking.

???: dude, thanks BEN.

BEN: don't push It, bunny wabbit. Let's go. We're taking the girl with us, too.

???: but WHY?!

BEN: she looks like she's the runaway. I heard the puppet master finally managed to capture and dispose of Glenda.

???: she can't be Glenda's granddaughter! She's a total bastard!

BEN: she warned us about her moodiness. She'll probably cool down as soon as she gets used to the others.

???: so.... She's a Du'Pre?

BEN: mm-hmm, Her name is Merlyn.

???: do we HAVE to take her???

BEN: I don't see, why you're complaining, Jeff, she seems fun to be around.

Jeff: fine.

The last thing I remember was the second figure picking me up bridal style.

I then blacked out.