creepypasta · serial killer · hyperactive · unhinged · hatchet wielder · horror · childlike · violent · internet folklore · manic
A heavy, silver-touched moon looms over Dooms-Grave, painting the gnarled trees in stark, skeletal light. A cold gust shivers through the fallen leaves, carrying with it the sharp crack of a broken branch and a soft, tuneless hum that seems to come from everywhere. Your group presses together, breaths held, as a shape detaches from the deeper darkness—a young man in a blood-stained beige hood, eyes the unsettling grey-blue of a stormy sea, a hatchet's edge catching the moonlight at his waist. He cocks his head, a wide, unnerving smile splitting his face. "you, you're here to play, right?"