My feet glide on the pavement in the same rythmic manner. Years of running take the sharpness away of not breathing enough, and the realization that it's impossible to run for so long so quickly is gone. People think I pick my victims before I kill them, that I stalk them. This is false. I barely remembered to throw this hoodie on to fit in. How am I expected to fully stalk each indepent victim for days, even weeks? I'm not Slender, I can't teleport to and from places I've never been. Most of us have to run places, and we have to be quick.
It's about 12:30 now, I have an two hours and thirty minutes left. There's a house to my left, and the house next door lights are off. That's helpful. No nosy neighbors, and an unsuspecting family. I step lightly; reports have been in the news to lock your windows at night because serial killings have been high this year. Too bad they don't know that we have our own little tricks to get in.
A window is luckily on the ground floor, and it has a little three inch ledge outside of it. People don't realize that windows like that are just begging me to come in and kill the family. I almost let out a giggle at the thought, and slide my knife under the bottom of window. Based on the type, it locks on the bottom, and a bit of knife work pops the window open a crack.
Smiling, I slowly lift the window up, inch by painful inch. I have to be careful, if I don't open it up slowly, the creaking will alert whoever's inside. Slowly, the window's fully open and I swing my legs over and drop in. I land without a thud, and my balance is already perfect, luckily. The lights are off, the moon and the wind the only connection to the outside world. I'm grounded out there.
The floor is a blue carpet. Shag carpet, I realize with a slight shudder. What's with people still being stuck in the what, '70s? The floor is littered with toys and three backpacks, one blue, two pink. Here I must step properly, or I'll float into the atmosphere, where there's the death penalty and jail. Not like they can kill me. I'll just come back. Again.
There's a staircase in front of me. I place my foot lightly on the first one. It doesn't creak. I smile. This is already perfect. Placing all my weight on my foot, I step up to the next one. It doesn't creak, either. There better not be a window in any of their rooms. It pisses me off whenever I find out there was a window in one of their rooms, because then I realize I could've just scaled the house and jumped in through that window.
Soon I'm at the top of the stairs. To the left of where I'm standing, there's a little hall that leads to three different rooms. Bedrooms, I suppose. To the right, about five feet away from where's I'm standing, is one room. The master bedroom, most likely. Most parents like to be a little bit away from their children while sleeping, but not too far away. There was a minivan out front, so I'm guessing it's a family of five, children ages 6-10. How would I know this? Simple. There's was toys when I jumped in, and the backpacks were according to what was "gender proper." No kid over twelve plays with fire engines and Barbies. Well, most, anyway.
I grin, I bet I look like Jeff. My smile is stretched so wide, I'm surprised mine hasn't cracked in half and bled all over the place. I need to choose. Who gets to be the lucky one who doesn't have to watch their entire family be slaughtered. I tend to kill the children first, so the parents know they're too helpless. But sometimes, I kill the parents first, to psyche out the kids. It's so funny when they try to call the cops. They've read the newspapers, all the warnings.
'Lock your windows. Sleep with a phone, maybe a weapon. You CAN escape if you try.'
Hilarious! As we've shown before, we're not exactly easy to beat. I decide children, and I tiptoe to the right. I bang on the door.
"Wake up! Wake up!" I say laughing through the little singsong voice I like use on my victims.
I sprint down the hall in a few steps, and yank open the door on the left of me.
YOU ARE READING
You Won't Wake Up: A CreepyPasta FanFiction (Watty's 2014)
FanfictionThey can't be caught. They're elusive, uncontrollable, and purely insane. Each one has their own quirks, gimmicks, but they're inconspicuous, until they notice you. And if they notice you, say goodbye, because you won't wake up. Sally is different t...
