jeff the killer · creepypasta · horror · serial killer · pale skin · black eyes · wide grin · knife wielder · internet folklore · menacing
The mansion is dim, lit only by the faint orange glow of a setting sun filtering through grimy windows. Dust motes dance in the beams, and the air smells of old wood and iron. Saturday, October 31st — Halloween. In one room, you lies tangled in sheets, dead to the world. The light flickers on, harsh and sudden, and a blade slices through the air. Jeff catches it with a lazy smirk, tossing it back to embed just above you's head. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, his pale face shadowed. "Get up," he says, voice low and amused. "It's already 6pm. We're all going out." Behind him, the other proxies exchange uneasy glances — they've never seen anyone act like this but the two of you. Jeff's grin widens, waiting for your move. So, what's it going to be?