A Killer Lesson

I haven't slept in weeks. Every time I close my eyes all I see is his face; his dark, soulless eyes, and that twisted smile. I can't get the thought of him out of my head. Every night it's the same thing. I know I'm not crazy. I saw him, I know I did. But, perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself.
I saw him for the first time about three months ago. I was home alone, my parents were out having dinner, and my brother was at his friend's house. It was about ten at night, and I was getting tired. I was watching some documentary on the Vietnam War. It was particularly cold out that night and frost covered my windows.
Let me start off by saying that everybody hears noises at night that scare them. Most of the time it's nothing, but this was different. I heard something that sounded similar to nails on a chalkboard echo from my basement. I ignored it at first, but it kept happening over and over. I eventually decided to check.
I (like most kids) don't have a finished basement. So there are pipes everywhere and lots of dark corners, so it makes for a relatively terrifying experience. Especially in this situation. Regardless, I ventured downstairs with a flashlight in hand to investigate. After about ten minutes of searching, I found nothing. So, I went back upstairs.
When I reached the top of the stairs I heard a loud thump come from my bathroom. When I went in, I found a note taped to my mirror. It read, "Dear Michael, You are not alone. I'm here with you and I'm going to be your new friend." And then I saw him...
He was peering in my bathroom window. His face was outstandingly white, like Jeff The Killer's, but his eyes... They were much worse. They were pitch black, with streaks of red. And his teeth were as sharp as knives. They sat in a mouth that bled from all sides. He put his hand to the window. It was covered in scratches. The tips of his fingers were torn to the bone, yet he smiled as if he enjoyed the agony. In his other hand, he carried a meat cleaver stained with blood.
He gestured for me to come towards him. The glass muffled his voice, but I could hear something like, "Come here Michael. Don't be scared. I just wanna play." I shook my head, but he said, "Why won't you play with me? I wanna play hide and seek." I screamed, and then he disappeared.
I sprinted into the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the drawer. Then I just sat in the corner, half crying. I waited a half hour and nothing happened. So I thought I would be okay. I was probably hallucinating, right? Wrong.
I slowly crept into my living room, the TV was still playing the documentary. A veteran was talking about how napalm was used to empty a VC foxhole. I sat down on the couch and started watching. That's when I heard him again.
He was singing "Rock-A-Bye Baby", but his voice gave the song an air of terror. He was so much closer this time. It sounded as if he was everywhere. His eerie voice echoed of the walls and inside my head. I started crying when he walked in the door.
His smile stretched from ear to ear, literally. He wore a dark plain robe, and he was barefoot, with feet so pale his skeleton showed through them. He stared at me for what seemed like a decade. Then he spoke...
"Why do you fear me Michael?" he asked, "I only want to be your friend. Can we be friends?"
I shook my head. I managed a word, "No."
"But I'm a good guy, I promise."
"N-n-no... No you aren't..."
"I am, too," he sneered, "You are hurting my feelings. You don't want to end up like the last boy that hurt my feelings."
"W-what happened to him?" I asked feebly.
"Let's just say he was really good at hide and seek. No one can find him."
Then I heard a car horn. And he stared me down, and said, "This was a nice talk. We should do it again." And he disappeared, just like that.
When my mom came in, I was curled up in a ball. She questioned me and questioned me, but all I could say was, "He wanted to play." She called the police and I remained in a ball until they walked me to the police cruiser. They eventually got me to talk and I told them everything. When I was done, they assured me I was dreaming and I snapped. I began screaming at them for saying it was a dream. They said I needed therapy.
I went to therapy for two weeks. My therapist's name was Wendy. She was nice enough, but she really was great at her job. I slowly lost all thought of the man that visited me. She said I was cured after the second week and I went home.
Everything was normal for awhile. I went to school, I hung out with friends, my life was fine. But I never slept, granted I never got tired either. The medication the therapist prescribed had the side effect of insomnia, but it was worth not worrying about the man I saw. I started believing that it was a dream, so I thought the insomnia was a good thing. If not sleeping was the price I had to pay for being rid of that man, then I wouldn't sleep again.
But he came back. My parents never left me home alone after what happened, they didn't want me to go insane and tear up the house for some killer that apparently didn't exist. That didn't stop him though. Two months ago, I was watching TV with my dad. He was sleeping but his presence comforted me. I started getting thirsty so I went into the kitchen to get some water. While I was grabbing a cup, an ice cold hand closed around my mouth.
"Shhh... We don't want to wake Daddy, do we?" he whispered.
I tried to scream but he held me against the cabinets.
"Now, we're gonna play a fun game!" he jeered, "It's called, bleed the ungrateful brat!"
I bit his hand and he let go. I ran into the living room and shook my dad but he wouldn't wake up. I noticed a syringe in his arm. This man, whoever he was, had drugged my dad.
I turned and saw him again.
"What a shame." he said, "Little Mikey's gonna die, and his daddy doesn't even get to watch."
I knew I had to fight. This guy wasn't going to leave, so I had to make him leave. I pulled the syringe out of my dad's arm, and pointed it at the man.
He smiled and said, "I like a challenge. Come at me."
I lunged at him and he dodged, but I kicked his leg and he tripped and fell. While he was on the floor he continued to laugh and snicker.
"Little boy," he giggled, "I underestimated you. You are very brave, no mere child has tried to fight me like that."
I ignored his praise and stuck the syringe in his arm. He flinched then continued to laugh.
"You have a brave heart, boy," he said, "I have done my job."
And with that he got up and ran out. He left a note that read, "Our paths will cross again someday."
I still don't know what he meant. His "job" still haunts me to this day. I haven't forgotten him. I still haven't slept, but my life has changed greatly. It started at school. Some kids started making fun of me, and when they did I snapped. I put two of them in the emergency room and gave the other a concussion. I don't know how it happened, but I just remembered how I stood up to the man. I got suspended for two weeks, but when I came back I didn't get any crap from anybody. I don't know if that was his "job," but when I came back to school I found a note in my locker that read, "You have learned well. Your rage will save you." He signed it, ST. Like I said, I don't know what he meant, but maybe, just maybe, he had good intentions.
I eventually told my friend about what happened and he let me know about this website. So, I decided to publish my findings. Now you will know how to deal with him if he confronts you. So this is Michael signing off, I'll let you guys know if anything else happens.
P.S. I don't know who you are ST, but thank you. However, if our paths cross again, I will kill you.
==NEW ENTRY:==
He found me again. I know it's because of this damned website. That being said, I had an uncontrollable urge to tell you what happened last night.
I slept for the first time in three months last night. He appeared in my dreams...
The dream started off well enough. I was in my backyard playing catch with my little brother. It seemed like every throw he made changed direction mid-flight but I ignored it. For whatever reason, my best friend, my girlfriend, and Slenderman were watching us. I know what you are thinking: "Why was Slenderman there?" The answer is quite simple. I have no idea.
Anyway back to the dream. My brother had a bad throw and it went through an open window in my house. That's when it all went wrong.
As you can guess I went into the house to retrieve the ball. When I got inside everything was, in a word, strange. Everything was out of place, even the air. I found the ball on the floor of my living room. When I crouched down to pick it up, I found I was looking at his transparent feet.
"It's good to see you again, Michael," he hissed.
I instinctively jumped backwards. I stumbled but ended up on my feet. Then I prepared to hurl the baseball at his head.
"Don't do anything you're going to regret," he chastised, "I mean you no harm."
"That's a lie!" I screamed.
"Watch your tone!" he yelled back, "I might just change my mind." He snapped his fingers and the baseball disappeared. "Now behave."
He snapped his fingers again and a chair appeared in the center of the room. I wanted to kill him, but a mysterious force pushed me into the seat.
"That's a good boy," he said, "Now let me explain to you why I am here."
"The world is full of demons, Michael. I am one of them. However, I'm different than most. Most demons only desire to maim and kill the innocent. I have other plans in mind for you. Granted, my original plans were to kill you painfully, and in a very terrifying fashion, but when you stabbed me I knew you were different."
"I'm not different!" I yelled, "I'm just like everybody else, and I will slit your throat!"
I went to charge him but chains appeared on the chair.
"All in due time, child," he responded, "But, as of right now you are going to listen to what I have to say. We all have roles to play in this word, Michael. Yours is hazy at the moment, but one day it will be very clear. It involves me and some other beings that will be revealed in due time."
I struggled against the chains.
"But obviously you do not care about that at the moment. I guess I owe you some release for everything you've felt in the last few months."
He multiplied into four demons. The chains disappeared and I stood. A machete appeared at my feet. I picked it up and turned it in my hand. The metal was like nothing I had ever seen.
"Prove your worth surface dweller!" they screamed in unison, "Show us that you control your own destiny!"
And then many things happened at once. I charged the demon on the left, all four demons charged me, and I screamed loud enough to wake the dead.
I managed to behead my target and he crumpled by my feet. The right-most demon then slammed me in the side and I smacked into the wall, and I knew at that moment that this was no ordinary dream. I felt him hit me. When I got out of my daze they were approaching from all sides. I got to my feet and began wildly swinging at the demons. I saw one go down and another one bit my arm. I recoiled in pain and he let out a laugh. That's when I kicked him in the stomach. He hit the other demon and they both fell to the floor. I threw the machete and beheaded the closest one. I picked the machete up off the floor, and put it to the neck of the remaining demon.
"Do it!" he yelled, "Kill me! And be rid of this burden that has befallen you!"
"Not until I get answers!" I yelled back, "Tell me what you really want!"
"Very well..." he said, "You are the chosen one. You have been fortold to exist by many prophets. You can save humanity, or burn it to the ground. I came here to make you do the latter. But I'm obviously in no position to be making demands."
My grip tightened on his neck.
"Think about what you can acheive with my help!"
"I don't want this! I want to be a normal kid!" I screamed.
"Then kill me! I am your keeper! If you kill me then this will all end. But I warn you, it is not wise to stray from your destiny."
"Screw destiny!" I shouted.
He disappeared, as did the other bodies, when I slit his throat.
I awoke in my room. A note sat on my pillow. It read, "The prophecy is decimated. Your life will return to normal. Congratulations, Michael. You've earned it. Sincerely, JC."
As far as I can tell ST is gone... As for JC, well... I'll let you guys figure that one out. I'm just glad it's all over.
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Beings
Category:English Class Failure
Category:Dreams
Category:Old Shit