Creepypasta Stories

Weak

With the strong comes the weak, correct?

I am strong.

You are weak.

Why are you reading this?

I'll come for you.

Your already targetted.

Do you feel that breath over your shoulder?

Hear that knocking?

I'm outside right now, watching.

Waiting.

Waiting for you to come.

Waiting for you to break.

I'm watching your house right now.

Why don't you come out right now?

Come say hi to me.

After reading that, Jane got up and walked to her window. She saw no one outside, so she rolled her eyes and went outside, using her front door.

When she went outside, she was greeted by a woman.

"Hello," says the woman.

"Hi," says Jane.

"Oh dear, you appear to be weak," says the woman, examining her.

"Huh?" says Jane, confused.

"Your weak. I'll help you to a better place," says the woman, then she lunges at her and Jane's vision went dark.

Oh wake up.

Oh come out.

Stop hiding.

Let little Warder help you.

It won't hurt...

...much.

Jane woke up tied to a chair. She tried to say something, but she was gagged.

"Hi," says the woman. "My name's Warder, and your name is Jane. I know that your weak, so why don't we get on with this?" Warder smirks and picks up a knife and starts repeatedly stabbing Jane. "I bet anyone who hears this will be like, oh, this person just wants attention. Well, no matter. Because guess what? I'm going to help rid the world of the weak."

Jane is about to pass out when Warder slits her throat and dips her hand into Jane's stomach, getting lots of blood on her hand. She walks to the wall and starts writing.

"I'm helping the weak move on. The strong will be on this world and the weak on the next. YOU ARE WEAK

Warder"

After serious investigation, no new information about this new killed known as "Warder" has come up. Police have decided to stop investigating, but she is very much at large, so please, lock your doors and windo- Slice

I'm sorry, we're you talking about me? Doors and windows can't stop me. You are all weak. I'll get in and get rid of you all.

So... yeah. Why do I write these... Rackella out