Creepypasta Origin stories

Murderous Seraphina

So, everyone has that one socially awkward outcast at school, right? It's sort of given thing. I had one like that. She wasn't bad by any stretch of the definition, but she was an odd type. Sort of "fuck society" to an extreme. Dressed like a nun, covered head to toe, but mostly with pants and wore freaking cat ears. If we were younger, sure, but wearing those at 17 – 18 years old? She Never talked to anyone, well besides a lucky few; myself included. She was incredibly asocial and somewhat antisocial, I dare say. Not only she was a bona fide smartass, but she was also really condescending and saw the majority of people as morons. On top of that, she was scarily violent occasionally. One thing this girl was fantastic at was art, drawing, sketching, coloring, painting, even some digital art. She could do it all. Heck, even her name is an oddity. Seraphina Tillet.

I only bring her up because I hung out with her a few days ago. Seraphina brought so bad memories with her. Not her fault, I should say. It's just something's wrong with her. More specifically, something was wrong with her.

No...

Something is still wrong, I guess, something is wrong with her in photos... or in certain photos... Something is wrong for sure, I'm not sure how to describe it. Maybe it's something with me. Imagine seeing a person's face plastered on a blood-soaked fur suit every time you see a picture of said person making a peace sign next to another person. That's what is.

Definitely something is wrong with me, but I guess something's wrong with her too.

It's like my brain reverts to that... I'm getting ahead of myself.

Allow me to start from the beginning.

About a week ago, my Facebook messenger beeped, signaling I had received a message from someone. Nobody ever talks to me through that thing. A rare occurrence. I open the thing to find out that a certain Seraphina Tillet is requesting to message me. A ghost from the past, you could say. I didn't expect much, knowing who was on the other side of the screen. Much to my surprise, she was pretty sociable and pleasant to chat with. It's like I was talking to a completely different person from the girl that went to school with me. We ended up chatting for two hours before concluding we should meet up for a dinner date. Nothing romantic, just two school "friends" catching up.

I say friends in quotes because we weren't awfully close, merely a conversational fling here and there.

One thing seemed a little odd, Seraphina's fashion sense. She dyed half of her hair pink while keeping the other half her natural brunette. She made herself look like Neapolitan ice cream. Looks great on her, though. I'll admit, it piqued my interest when I saw her profile picture and I ended up having a looksie of her gallery. I didn't expect that sort of angelic presence there. The woman is literally not what I knew years ago. She's confident, she looks great, and she's radiant as fuck. A ball of positive energies and raw happiness.

Maybe her name does fit her, Seraphs being burning angels.

The photos of her grinding in the gym are almost heart warming in a nostalgic sense. It reminded me of the time she almost tore Matt Haskins' arm off. That's a funny story. He kept on nagging her for being some fetish weirdo for her cat ears. She ignored him for the most part, even when he'd get physical – she'd just take his shoving and light smacking. Nobody knew why, now I do; it was probably nothing for her. She looks like a machine in the gym. Anyway, one time, she must've been in a foul mood, and Haskins shoved her pretty hard. She landed on her ass and immediately got back up to her feet before following her tormentor and kicking his leg from underneath him. A second later, she's on top of the guy; twisting his arm in all sorts of impossible angles calling him her bitch.

Admittedly, I wasn't sure if I should really meet up with this person; she seemed too different from the Seraphina I used to know. Eventually, I reasoned that I had given her my word and that I have nothing to worry about. After all, we've arranged to meet at a café in a busy part of town in broad daylight.