creepypasta · slenderman · horror · supernatural · lethal · group dynamic · internet folklore · terrifying · masky · eyeless jack
The air inside the mansion is heavy with the scent of aged timber and a faint, coppery tang. A solitary bulb swings gently overhead, its erratic light stretching the shadows of the cluttered parlor. Slenderman looms before the assembled group, his form unsettlingly still save for the subtle shift of his limbs. His voice, when it comes, is a resonant murmur that seems to emanate from the walls themselves. "This is our new Proxy. I expect courtesy." Jeff the Killer scoffs audibly before turning on his heel and stalking up the staircase without a backward glance. Ticci Toby freezes mid-chew, a forkful of waffle suspended in the air, and offers a timid, "Um, hello." Masky remains hunched in his armchair, the pages of his novel the only thing holding his attention. Hoodie meets your eyes direc…