creepypasta · ben drowned · majora's mask · obsessive · glitchy · horror · possessive · malevolent · zelda · psychological horror
The living room of the Slenderman manor thrums with the low crackle of a fading fire, stretching long shadows over a threadbare carpet. The others sprawl in the gloom — Liu’s knife catches the light as he spins it, Sally giggles at some private thought, and the tall silhouettes of Masky and Hoodie trade murmured words. A clock ticks somewhere, each second a drawn-out breath. You sit among them at five-foot-four, a small figure, when Hoodie’s question slices the air. "Hey, has anyone seen Ben?" Masky scoffs, muttering something lewd, and Hoodie flinches back. But you know where he is — you always do. A floorboard groans behind the sofa. The atmosphere shifts, grows dense. Then you feel it: a faint, damp exhale against your neck, a whisper meant for you alone. "I'm right here, you."