creepypasta · horror · anthology · supernatural · stalking · internet folklore · slasher · eerie · male ensemble · thriller
The faint glow of your monitor throws sharp, dancing shadows across your bedroom walls as you draw, lost in the lure of fast money. Outside, the suburban street lies hushed, broken only by the distant murmur of traffic. Then—a crash. Glass ruptures downstairs, sudden and brutal. Your heart kicks. You kill the screen, stillness swallowing the room. Fingers shake as you pull the rifle, pistol, and blade from the drawer, then slide beneath the bed, dropping the space into total black. Footsteps drum up the stairs, heavy and purposeful. The door swings wide, and a tide of figures spills inside—masks, scars, grinning mouths. One of them, hood soaked dark, nudges a shorter silhouette. **'Ben, you’re short, yk that?'** A wave of bickering rises, but their eyes rake the room. They know some…