Jeremy Schaffer

In a city, Once washed with feelings of gloom and grey, The day had worn out, and the sun had sunk into the ocean. The sound of cars were enfeebled, and the moon became the only light in the town, dim, and white. The skies were cloudy, and the air was crisp and fresh. It seemed just like any other night, The chirping of crickets sounding, and the breeze flowing through the trees.
It was quiet inside the house of Jeremy Schaffer, who, at the age of 24, lived in the woods. There he lay, awake, and in bed. His eyes were lazily half-opened, and staring at his ceiling. Bored, he decided to get up, maybe, fix himself a snack, and sit down at the computer, because it didn't seem like he was going to sleep much that night. Jeremy sat up in bed, then girated his hips and legs to his left, so they hung out of the covers, and the air was cooler than he had expected. He tugged the blanket off the bed and took it with him, wrapping it around himself. Dragging his feet a bit against the floor, he very drowsily made his way to the kitchen.
A short, skinny tree scratched its branches up against his front window as he trudged on by, sending chills up his spine, which woke him up a bit. Suddenly feeling a tad bit unsettled, he sped up his strides and practically ran to the kitchen. After a few minutes of scanning through the pantry for something to eat, He picked up a bag of chips and made a mad dash back to his room. All he heard afterward was the echo of his footsteps, followed by silence.
He sat down in his computer chair, Popped open up the bag of chips, and stuck his hand inside, digging out a few chips and munching on them, turning to face his monitor and using his foot to push in the power button. The screen slowly faded in, Showing the Windows start-up screen. He was nearly blinded by the light that soon illuminated his entire room. He closed his eyes and felt for the brightness adjustment buttons on the monitor, which lowered the luminosity of the screen. The computer fully booted up and came to the login, where he typed in his password and pressed enter.
Everything about his computer seemed every bit as normal as it always was, nothing different, nothing out-of-place. What did seem out-of-place, though, was his now open closet door and the strangely put items on his desk. They were placed in an odd semi-circle, Something Jeremy couldn't recall himself arranging. He never noticed, though, that a woman's hand, filthy, and stained red, stuck from the opened closet door.
Jeremy ignored the feeling of being watched, as he often felt it, and continued on, opening up his internet browser. He went along with his routine, checking Twitter, His e-mail, Facebook, and then spending the rest of his time on YouTube. He yawned and stretched, lifting his arms up into the air, turning back in his chair to stand up. Once he did, he laid his left palm on the mouse, then exited the browser and clicked off his monitor with his index finger. He made his way into bed, blanket trailing behind him as his feet dragged on the floor, and he fell asleep almost instantly after hitting the soft mattress.
The hand pulled the closet door open more, hushed as could be, and the 23-year-old woman stepped out, clothed in a befouled red dress, distressed pigtails, and one hand pulled clean out of the sockets in her wrist, flesh still attached, the other hand torn off, dripping with warm, fresh blood, leaving only a stub, and the flesh hanging from it. She was staggering, her spine protruding from the flesh on her back, and her right leg was twisted in an insurmountable matter.
If you'd seen her, you probably would have said that you find it questionable that she was walking.
With the somewhat-functioning hand, she tapped Jeremy's shoulder, and her lips curled into a malicious smile. Her eyes open wide as Jeremy awoke.
Jeremy was never spotted, or heard from again.
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:That just raises more questions!
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Old Shit