The Room

I never was the type to have lots of friends, I was the fat, shy, unpopular girl, who could never do anything right. I was really smart though, or at least until the day I disappeared. I knew that if the rumours were true and I did go missing, no one would look for me, I thought it would be a dream come true, thought it would save my life, but like I said, I was stupid.
It was a warm summer night in June, I finished my summer reading a week after school finished for the holidays. I had read all the books on my shelf too, and the bookstore didn't get a new shipment in until next week. I decided to go online on to one of those reddit sites; I overheard people at school talking about this thing called creepypasta. I opened my laptop and began my search. The first thing I found was a video labelled "Slenderman, the child napper". I scrolled past it at first thinking it would be some scammy video meant to scare me, but curiosity got the better of me and I scrolled back to watch it. The video was full of weird subliminal messages, weird scratchy noises and it creeped me out. A few minutes after I finished watching the video, I fell asleep immediately.

I was running through what seemed to be a never-ending dark wood forest. I didn't know what I was running away from, I only knew I was terrified and couldn't stop running. I ran for what felt like hours, I could feel the warm sticky sweat dripping down my forehead and my upper lip. I ran through a large tall rocky archway, and I noticed I seemed to be running down a path, towards torches and a... mansion maybe. I decided to take a look and noticed a tall shadow behind me, I try and hide, but it finds me, it has no facial features, just a blank white canvas for a face. Suddenly there's a hole where a mouth should be only it spreads so only a tiny bit of his face is left, and he starts sucking my soul, I let out a loud piercing scream, knowing I would soon be dead.

I woke up in a pool of sweat, I quickly got up and looked at my alarm clock, 4 am, I was still really shaken about the dream; I knew it was a sign but didn't know what it quite meant. I changed my sheets, and had some breakfast; I decided it was best not to tell anyone about my dream, not that I had anyone to tell.

I did some writing for my English class, and watched the sun rise, the events of the night before slowly fading to the back of my mind. By the time I had finished it was 9 am; so I decided to go to the library and see if they had anything of my fancy. While I was checking out the books in the fiction section, I noticed to my left a book had fallen on the floor. Me being the goody two shoes that I am decided to go put it back on its shelf, but when I picked it up and looked at the cover, I noticed that the art on the book cover was a photo of me, judging myself in the mirror. The photo was taken from the back, and there was a black ooze all around me. I cast my eyes slightly upward, and slowly read the title. "The murder of McKayla Smith". My eyes filled with tears and I froze... that's... that's my name. Why is my name on this book, and why does it say I've been murdered? As quickly as I can, I run out of the library and run straight home.

I didn't notice until I was back in my room, that I was still holding the book. I tried to drop it but it was like it was glued to my hand. I started to panic, pulling hard at the book. I glance in my mirror and notice that the book isn't there, and it is on my bed where I tried to throw it. I notice a figure shape in my window, and my brain immediately clicked, it's the figure from the dream, and the video, staring at me. I felt like prey being stalked by their predator. I quickly shut my curtains and hide under my bed when I hear heavy footsteps making their way up the stairs leading to my attic bedroom. I slow my breath, determined not to give myself to the demon that awaits me. I lower my breath and make sure not to make any movements, when a thought enters my head; 'how can this thing see me if it has no facial features?'. I ponder this for a moment before the quilt of my bed is pulled up exposing me to the visitor in my room. I slowly open my eyes awaiting my death when I hear someone speak, "there you are, I've been calling you for ages". I let out a deep sigh of relief as my heart slows to a steady beat.
Staring at me from out the bed was my dad, he must've gotten back from work and wondered where I was. I quickly got out from under my bed and brushed myself off. "Kay, what were you doing under the bed?" my dad asked with a puzzled look. "Just cleaning" I lie, with an accidental bit of force. He nodded his head and wandered out my room. I let out another, heavier sigh of relief; I quickly do a 360 search of my room to make sure that thing was gone and open my curtains. The sun was setting a nice amber colour with strokes of purple every so often; it reminded me of a painting mum once did before she died. I go to look for the painting in my cupboard and decide to hang it on my wall. All of a sudden a warm wave of comforting heat caressed my body, yet no one was there.

I thought everything was better when suddenly all the lights went out, and I heard a shatter of glass feeling a chilly breeze coming from behind me. I quickly turn around and to my dismay I saw through the dim light reflected by the moon that it was my window, and it was standing on the other side of the now broken window, watching me. I internally freeze unsure of what to do when instantaneously I am pulled out the window by what seem like long black tentacles. My head was spinning what was happening to me, I was trying to piece it together when everything went black.

I woke up in a cold grey room with white tile floors that's only light was a dim torch in the corner by the door. Suddenly a hologram type screen appeared on the furthest wall and my father was shown, calling out my name in the park nearest our house. It then flicked to show my dad on the phone to the police; "it's been four days and you have made no effort to find my daughter, please I'm begging, find her" at this point he is sobbing, I notice he's on my bed and my heart stings; I start to cry with him, my soul aching to be with him again. For months they tried so hard to find me, but I was nowhere they would look. I never made it out of that room. You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat.