☆Creepypasta Stories☆

~Pretend~

Luke stepped out of the warm comfort of his best friend’s house into the cold winter air. The sun was quickly slipping beneath the horizon and the trees of the forest cast long twisted shadows across the yard. Luke said goodbye to his friend and thanked his mother for having him over, as their goodbyes drew to a close the front door swung shut, and a silence fell over Luke. He stared out across the lawn into the twilight forest that awaited him. It was only a fifteen minute walk from his friend’s house to his own, and he had made that walk countless times before, but as he watched the night descend upon the world, something sinister began to fill the shadows.

Luke knew what was coming next. It didn’t happen often, but he knew tonight it would be coming for him. There was an acute sense of dread in the air, and he could almost feel its gaze watching him from the ever lengthening shadows. Luke stepped off his friend’s porch and into the night.

Luke crossed the thirty yards from the porch to the beginning of the forest path with little incident, but as he entered the woods, he entered another realm. No longer did he live in the world of modern conveniences where a warm, bright home was only a short walk away. In its stead was a primeval existence where danger lurked in every shadow, and his only salvation was a night’s march away.

Luke had been walking for little over a minute when it began. Far in the distance standing between two trees, it was there standing motionless watching him. Its twisted figure lit by the dying rays of the sun. No sooner had Luke seen it, than it was gone, and with it vanished the last vestiges of daylight. The hunt was on.
Luke began to move faster but he had to hold himself back, knowing if he broke into a run, it would soon chase him down. This was not Luke’s first time seeing the thing, and after enough encounters he had learned the rules. He was not to run or scream or it would be angry. If it was angry, Luke received a deep gash on his arm or on his leg. Luke had been fortunate to never anger it further. Luke knew if he kept calm and walked home; the thing would not punish him. It would be terrifying but he would arrive home alive.

The first time he saw it, he had run home with his heart ready to rip itself out of his chest. He received a nasty cut down his leg for his troubles and he arrived home dirty, bloody, and trembling. He had stumbled into the house and sunk to the floor, shaking and crying. When he told his mother what had happened, she dismissed the whole thing as a product of his overactive imagination. She promised to get rid of the thorn bush that had scratched him and told him to calm down. Since then he had stopped telling his mom when he saw it, and when the thing cut him he hid it from her. Not only did his mother blame his imagination, but so did everyone else he tried to tell: His father, his brother, even his best friend blamed his overactive imagination. His father and brother had told him to stop playing pretend and act his age. Luke was alone with his twisted companion.

Luke continued onward, trying to contain his fear. Every second he fought the urge to scream and run for his life. Luke knew that at any moment it could appear. He might turn a corner and it would be in the middle of the path. He might glance to the side and see it behind the nearest tree, but no matter what he never saw it for long. Luke was not even sure what it looked like, as it never stayed in sight long enough for him to set its appearance into his memory, but although he rarely saw it, its presence never left. Whether it was noxious smells of filth and blood, ragged panting, or drooling Luke knew the thing was always close by.

The walk was stretching into an eternity for Luke. He felt as though he had left his friend’s house hours ago, and yet it seemed there were miles and miles left to walk until he was home. Luke began to pick up the pace a little, and as his step quickened, he heard a shuffling gait behind him begin to rustle the leaves. This was incredibly odd as he had never heard its footsteps before. They were close, but not so close that Luke was considering bolting. Oddly, these heavy footfalls made Luke feel better. He knew he couldn’t possibly be imagining them. He could hear leaves rustle and crunch beneath his pursuers’ feet. He could hear it physically impacting the world. Surely that couldn’t be his imagination.