Creepypasta

Clocks

NOTE: The original story had some foul language, so I tried my best to remove it. If I missed anything, Im sorry.

I've always loved drawing clocks. People ask me why, and I honestly don't know.

I'm not a very good artist and they never looked quite right, but I grew to love my "crappy" drawings, as my peers so kindly put it.

You may wonder what’s scary about clocks, right? What If I told you I got the incentive to kill because of a clock drawing? It was late one school morning and I was tired.

That’s my justification. I was tired. I was a slim teenager, no muscle to speak of, and my love life was nonexistent. There was a girl who I liked, the head cheerleader. She was peppy, fun, and nice to me. She was nice to me, just some nerd who liked to draw clocks in his spare time. It was only nine-o-clock and I had already been called horrible things at least twelve times today. I was at my breaking point. I tried to put on a brave face but I couldn’t find the strength to keep it up.

"Hey, loser!" said one of my tormentors, followed by a punch to the back of my head. We were the only ones in the room, for class had ended a while back. "What are you drawing? Oh wait, I already know. It’s probably just another stupid clock, am I right?"

Well, he was technically right. It was a clock and this was my best one. It was very detailed, with a perfect shape, and even appeared to be in motion. "Yes, I am drawing a clock." I said. I should have told him off. My life may have been different if I had done that. But, I didn't. I sat there and took it like a whipping boy getting his twenty lashes.

"Oh yeah? Let me see." He then snatched my masterpiece out of my hands and looked at it for a moment. "Oh, this is actually pretty good."

I actually took it to heart. That was a very nice thing to say, I thought.

I thought wrong.

Grinning, he took my masterpiece, shoved it down his pants and then ripped it to shreds before attempting to force my very own work of art down my throat.

I replied with an old fashioned, "SCREW YOU!" but it had no effect.

"Oh, you want some? You want some, nerd?"

My rage built as I laid down on the floor, coughing paper scraps up. Feeling defeated, I started to shake, not with fear, but with anger. I reached my boiling point. I wasn't human anymore, I was all animal. The thing is that you don't need the muscles, the attitude, or even skill to kill. You just need the incentive. And I had plenty.

"RAGHHHHHHHHH!" My battle cry was enough to make him turn around. As he did, I kicked my foot into his face he fell back. I picked up his head, still woozy from my angry blow, and slammed him into the chalk board.

Over,

And over,

And over.

Blood seemed to be all over the walls. He was probably dead by the second blow, but I wasn't satisfied. I wanted his face to look how he did inside... disgusting.

I screamed the insults I heard throughout my life at his corpse as I destroyed the remnants of his face. Looking at my victim, I felt satisfied with what I've done. I smiled. I wanted more. _

An anchorman is heard on a television set. "This just in. Sixteen found dead in Rasmound County High. All students have suffered a severe beating, followed by the dismemberment of what appears to be the school football team. More later tonight."

Racheal turned off the TV, knowing her boyfriend had died. As she teared up at the thought, she heard something.

"Racheal, a friend from school is here to see you," her mother said. She left the room so the two could talk privately.

As she opened the door and looked down the stairs, she sees the boy who loved to draw clocks. He was stared at her with wide eyes.

"This is a nice room," he said with a sinister smile on his face.

"Th-Thanks, why are you here, anyway?" Racheal asked, still shaken about the news.

"I wanted to go out with you. You mean a lot to me." He came closer, still looking ominous.

"Uh, thanks I guess, but my boyfriend just died, you insensitive jerk! How could you be so selfish?"

"But I thought-"

"YOU THOUGHT WRONG, FREAK!" She shouted followed by sobbing.

"You...You think I’m a f-freak?" He said, twitching with anger.

"YES, NOW GET OUT!" Racheal shouted with such fury, it made him violent.

"B-But...but...COME HERE," his remaining sliver of humanity destroyed by Racheal's sad, yet anger drenched words.

At first he began strangling her, in the process crushing her voice box and silencing her.

She opened her mouth to scream, but Racheal’s attempt to cry out for her mother was in vain.

Picking up the classical metal clock on the wall that Racheal’s mother had given her, the young man begins to beat her to death with it.

An hour passes and Racheal is slowly dying... Feeling satisfied he leaves to deal with her family.

Other than the cries of her family slowly dying in the distance, before Racheal dies, all she hears is the slow ticking of a broken clock.