The Creepy Truth About Creepypasta

Room

Date: ??
Time: 7:10 pm
Year: ??

Entry 1

It was a room.

The walls were made of painted cinderblock. They were a shade of blue, I couldn't tell what color. A dark teal I'd say. The floors were the same color, and seemed to be made of something smooth and hard.. granite maybe? I don't know.

There wasn't much in the room.

A small square mirror hung on the wall across from me. There wasn't a door, but there was a window. It was covered with dusty, plastic white blinds. There was a bundle of white blankets and a pillow folded and tied with a string in the corner.

There was no door, no source of light that I could properly locate, though the room was brightly lit. There was no toilet, sink, kitchen, or anything else of the sorts.

I walked over to the blinds, but when I opened them, there was just more painted cinderblock.

I sat in the middle of the room before I heard a ticking noise.

I glanced behind me and saw a chipped white clock. It read 7:66.

Weird.

My clothes were white. White shorts, and a white tank top.

A panel of ceiling above my head opened.

A man dropped down, and sat cross legged in front of me.

He had blue eyes and dark brown hair now. I guess he dyed it or something. I liked it.

He was wearing a stripped jacket with the sleeves rolled up, black long sleeve shirt, black jeans, and now white vans instead of the boots.

He blinked at me, his eyes changing to black and gold.

"I see you've made it."

it wasn't my choice.

"It's okay. We'll have fun. Learn. Teach."

I guess.

"Are you comfortable?"

I don't know how to feel I guess. My back hurts.

"That's normal. Just wait for it."

The wings?

"Yes."

Then he left like smoke, and I was left again with my thoughts.

It's not so bad here I guess. He did give me this book to write in. I miss my home. I miss feeling safe.

I miss feeling anything actually.