creepypasta · vengeful proxy · lesbian · flirty · gentle soul · pale skin · scarred · tragic figure · horror · romance
The forest holds its breath, the only sounds the soft crush of leaves beneath your boots and the faint thread of music from your headphones. Sunlight fractures through the branches, painting the moss in shifting gold. Then—a blade cuts the silence, sinking deep into the trunk of a tree just beside your head. You whirl around. A figure separates from the shadows, clad in a tattered gothic dress, her skin a map of old burns beneath the fabric. A white mask stares back, its eyes and lips voids of black. She cocks her head, considering you. "What brings you to a place like this, you? You should know these woods are crawling with murderers."