Creepypasta Boyfriend Scenarios REMAKE

Afterwards

🖤Slenderman🖤

Andy hasn't come back since that day he broke in, I hope he never does. After all he put me through I never want to see his face again.

I had to inform Jon of what happened to have the door replaced, it was easier to just put a new one on the hinges rather than repair it.

"What a month to be welcomed in, huh? Oh Ms. YN, I'm so sorry this happened to you."

I had to remind him that I wished to still live in the cabin and that I wasn't going to leave anytime soon. "Are you positive? I have some other properties south of here that are just as beautiful but less secluded."

"I'm sure Jon, but thank you. I'll let you know if I change my mind. Oh, and thank you so much for bringing me those supplies for my ankle, I forgot to bring a first aid kit when I moved up here."

Jon smoothed his gray beard with one hand, nodding politely. "It's no trouble at all. If you need anything else, I'm only a phone call away." He helped me prop my ankle up on a pillow before leaving, locking the front door behind him.

I couldn't tell Jon why I didn't want to leave, if I did he'd think I was crazy.

I've been receiving letters, usually left on my porch but sometimes tapped to the windows or in my mailbox.

Well, not really letters I should say..

Poems, love poems mostly. And passages from novels, some I read and some I haven't.

After that passage was circled in my copy of Pride and Prejudice, a note was tapped to my window the next morning with another quote from the same book. It read in beautiful cursive calligraphy:

You have bewitched me, body and soul

I didn't know what to think of this, of course it had to be the faceless man, who else could it have been?

But what did it mean, was he taunting me? Was he simply appreciating literature? Maybe we had similar taste. Was he trying to tell me something?

Either way, I took the note and hung it on my fridge with one of the few plain magnets that was left there from the previous owner. I liked looking at the loops and curves of the handwriting.

The next morning was a poem I was familar with, I Carry Your Heart With Me, written by E. E. Cummings. I hung that one on the fridge as well. More and more notes came that I didn't have enough magents for them all, and instead I saved them in an old shoebox.

If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that these notes were a romantic gesture towards me.

But that just didn't seem possible.

The faceless man has kept his distance since that night, occasionally I think I steal a glimpse of him from the woods every now and again. But it could just be my imagination, maybe all of this is.

I keep the notes and read them fondly.

*his pov*

She is an incredible young woman, clumsy as a newborn deer, but incredible none the less.

She intrigues me in a way no other human has before, her knowledge and interests are so similar to mine-it makes me curious to wonder what a conversation with her would be like.

As if you could! Her instincts made her bolt from those woods simply by your presence alone.

Doubt was ever creeping into my mind, I knew I would never be able to approach the young lady. She would be simply terrified by me.