Caught In The Forest

Hidden Villain

Penny walked into the lounge, she went over to the couch and presumed to sit stiffly. Silver who was in the room rolled his eyes. "BEN, cut it out." Promptly "Penny" transfigured back into the Link figure. "It's been over a year, get over your grieving."

    BEN slumped down on the couch, brushing his cold hands along the smooth suede fabric. "I steel feel this vacuity within me."

    Silver rolled his eyes again. "I think it's called guilt. You earned it. Ultimately, you did beguile her."

   BEN spun around on the couch to face Silver, watching his every movement as he randomly organized and switched books on a nearby bookshelf. Why is he so erratic? BEN thought. "Why does this lament still infect me?"

   "You're in the fault, that's why."

   BEN flashed his red eyes in a scowl towards Silver's back. "I meant why am I experiencing human feelings for so long?"

    "You were with her for a long time. It's just like how you can pick up her appearance after such a long time, you picked up her emotions as well. You should know this. Or has her ignorance also placed itself within your heart?"

    "Why do you act like she never existed?"

    Silver turned his head to the side, trying to stare at BEN without turning completely around. "Trust me when I'm still a little down. But I don't feel as bad as you because, well, it wasn't my fault after all." He resumed to removing and placing books.

    BEN huffed, and abruptly sprang into his main portal of the television. Meanwhile, Jeff was outside deep within the woods, apparent to the shortcoming of missing tree limbs with his sentimental blade of choice. Another toss and his knife finally struck, but unfortunately for him, the knife's blade bent and fell away from the handle. He began to curse and complain about the future hunt for a knife accustomed to his needs.

     Jeff strolled over to the ramshackle knife and gave the world another round of profanities. He examined it, rubbing his finger along the clean break, feeling the bump of rust and occasional dried blood. For reasons unknown he felt an ensemble of misfortune dance in his head. Then he groaned and threw the piece of knife back into the dirt. Feeling uncertainty of what to do now, he climbed a tree and watched critters climb around him that were previously his potential targets. He began to swear to the mindless animals how he would one day skin them alive.

     Occupied in his thoughts, his Creepypasta senses did not alarm him of the small throwing dagger that whizzed his way. He was knocked backwards. the knife pinning his white hoodie to the bark. "Hey!" He shouted. He looked around fruitlessly, trying to find the attacker. Before he could utter a threat, another knife pinned him, and then another, and soon enough five more. Jeff found himself completely held to the tree, despite trying to escape by pulling and tugging; the knives were just too deep into the bark. He heard the footsteps of the assailant began to hurry away. "Come back here!" He screamed. Jeff was greeted with two strikes to his brain. Jeff wouldn't be yelling for a while.

    The attacker, dressed in baggy clothing and the iconic mask stepped slowly through the mansion threshold. "Hey Masky," Silver spoke absent minded, still engaged with his arranging. Masky curtly nodded and paced his way from the lounge and up the stairs. He seemed to drag his feet behind him as he listened in the hall's silence. Then there it was, just the room he was searching for. Quietly he opened the door; the room was untouched, everything in the same place.

    He stood in the silence, then slowly removed his mask. He went over to the bed and sat down looking at his feet. Thoughts were racing through his mind at lightning speed. He abruptly recalled he was on a mission, so he quickly rose up again and went over to a small armoire. Bending down on one knee, he began to dig through the bottom drawers. After searching through bundles of plain clothing he came across what he desired, a bag of wrinkled and brittle leaves. It was indeed a strange thing to be within a wardrobe, but not to Masky.

    His heart began to beat like an intense drum; he quickly pushed the drawer closed and shoved the bag in his pocket. Swiftly he snapped the false face back on. Then he smiled behind the mask, preparing himself for the real excitement. At leisurely pace, he threw the door open and began to amble down the hall, his hand in his front jacket pocket, clutching the frail leaves. It was then that he began to drop them, creating a trail to follow, all the way to a room he was positive was barren. Approaching the window, he simply sat on its sill, and waited.

    He was so patient and so quiet, his lips curved into a wicked smile that no one could see. Now he no longer clutched leaves within his pocket, but a small pouch, stuffed with small throwing daggers. The door was suddenly thrown open, BEN stood there, his eyes glowing red. "Why did you touch her things?" He demanded.

    Masky chuckled softly to himself. "Why not?" He whispered, barely audible.

    BEN approached him, his steps slow but violent. "You stupid proxy, you have no right to do that."

    Masky clucked his tongue, "Don't be so cruel, BEN."

    BEN was nearing Masky now, only a foot away. "If I could kill you again, I would."

    "What's the big deal?" He murmured softly. BEN's eyes flashed in reply, his teeth gritted in a frown. Masky chuckled again, "Didn't the adventure end?" Masky wrapped his hand around the dagger pouch. "Why hasn't yours?"