Pure of Mind and Sharp of Knife (Male Reader x Female Creepypasta)

Blood on My Hands

Despite the nightmare, I don't wake up with a jolt; nor is my bed damp with sweat. My eyes slide open to stare at the ceiling of my room. I sit up and rub my eyes. What drugs did I take to get these shitty nightmares?

I slip out of bed and glance at my digital clock. It's 2 PM, and school is over. Do I even bother? The comfort of my bed seems to cuddle me. Nah.

Collapsing back into the sheets, I cat-stretch and push my cheek into my pillow. Minutes pass, and I realize I'm not as tired as I thought. My legs are the only things that bother me; both of them ache from the slightest flex or movement.

The cloud-like elation of my bed turns to discomfort as I cannot get myself into a good sleeping position again. I groan into my pillow and sigh as I push myself out of bed and onto my feet, which is a grave mistake.

My legs crumple like old wood, and I fall to my knees. Shocked at myself, I sit there for a long moment, turning my head to look out the window at the trees above. Something's wrong.

As weird as it is to say... that tree isn't normal. It's foreign to my memory. The branches have an alien pattern of growth to them, completely different from the ones outside my house. My heart sinks, but I don't quite know why. It's... different, but it's nothing more than that. Why am I so jumpy? I feel my cheeks tighten. I'm smiling. Yes... it is a little different, isn't it?

An invisible force urges me to my bedroom door. Curiosity? As much as my legs are pained to do so, they carry me to my door which I stand myself against. Putting my ear to the crack between the door and its frame, I listen to nothing. Just a lazy draft. It's so quiet I can hear the leaves shuffling outside the house. Like a hermit, I open the door and peek out.

This is not my house. There's a black door which stands across from mine in a long hallway twice the length of my home. On the door in front of me, a name is carved into the wood with eloquent, cursive lines in white coloring:

Jane.

I close the door and open it again, wishing to see my house, but I still see that name: Jane. Closing the door once more, I dive back into my bed and slam my head into the pillow.

"It's just a dream! Just a lucid dream. Wake up, wake up, come on, wake up!" I urge, pushing my finger into my hand to see if it will go through.

"Ah, you have awoken. At least you do not sleep as late as Benny," A voice of honey and silk coos behind me.

Freezing, I recognize the voice. It's the same voice from my nightmares. It can't be. That thing is after me again?

It somehow hears my thoughts, "How rude. It should be obvious that I have a name as well. I will have to teach you a thing or two about manners, Skulker."

Turning around, I'm ready to face the same vision of death from last night, but the sight is more... calming this time. It's like my mom just woke me up for school. I almost forget that this thing killed the only people I have ever felt like I belonged to.

I can't stop staring into her featureless face. It reminds me of a pale moon sitting in a black, starless sea. Currently, the only intimidating aspect of herself is the towering height at which she – at least, I assume it's a "she" – stands.

She seems to laugh to herself as she extends a long arm to me, "I am Slenderwoman, but you may call me Slenda."

Fearfully, I take her hand and shake it, "I'm-"

"(Y/N) (L/N), correct?" Slenda cuts me off.

I nod silently, still terrified of her cold hands which may have killed many more than just my friends.