Seven Days

Seven Days: Log 8

Seven Days Creepypasta

Log 8

Monday, February 24th

I sat staring at the monitor. Log 1, Log 2, Log 3, Log 4, Log 5, Log 6, Log 7. All of them were there.

Had I really finished them? Had I actually survived?

I lowered my head before letting out a sigh.

It certainly didn’t feel like it. Some part of me felt like it had died the moment Log Seven was over but what part? I didn’t know.

I looked back at the page.

The Sender hadn’t contacted me since finishing Log Seven. I found that strange, considering his cocky nature to gloat about each visitor I had to deal with. Not to mention, judging by what I’d pieced together so far, I was the first to ever finish something like this alive. I was sure he would have popped up and said something along the lines of, ‘congrats’ or ‘well done’, but no. He went quiet.

I leaned back in my chair and glanced at the clock. 7:30 am. Class would start soon. I needed to get ready.

I shut down the computer and pushed away from the desk. I rubbed my eyes for a minute then rose to my feet to get ready for college.

I pulled on some jeans, my dark tennis shoes, and a gray T-shirt. I went to grab my hoodie hanging on my closet door but at the last second I paused. My hand hovered over it as I stared at it. It still amazed me that even after the past seven days of hell it’d gone through, my clothing hadn’t picked up a single scar–no nicks, no tears, no wear, no blood, nothing that hinted to its tormented past. I lowered my head and took in a deep breath. I wish it could’ve been the same for me. The things I’d seen would always be with me.

I grabbed the hoodie and slid it on before emptying my bag. Over the past week it had been filled with items needed for my survival. Now it would get to carry what it had been originally made for: school work.

After everything was packed and ready, I opened the door to leave, but stopped.

I turned and looked back at my computer one last time, half-expecting the monitor to beep, notifying me that a text-box had opened. None came.

“Well,” I said, “it’s over now Sender. Goodbye.”

I stepped out and closed the door behind me.

***

I had a lot to think about on my way to the campus. Many unanswered questions lingered at the back

of my mind. The Sender was one of them. Who or what was he exactly? He’d already admitted to me he wasn’t human, but when I saw him for the first time, he’d looked like a regular guy–granted he’d sounded demented, but still…

I thought back to the night the Rake had attacked me. The Sender had showed up right at the end wearing a dark hoodie, dark pants, and dark shoes and had looked surprisingly like a teenager or someone in their early twenties.

And that smile... I shuddered.

It scared the living crap out of me. But, then again, just about all of the visitors had scared the crap out of me.

I shook off the memory and continued driving.

But then, there was that question about Kayla. That question, more than anything, had been tearing at my soul. Just what had happened to her? What had The Sender or Slenderman done to her? I remembered how she’d first appeared with an easy embarrassed face, with her brown classic leather jacket, looking just as lost and alone as myself.