You Won't Wake Up: A CreepyPasta FanFiction (Watty's 2014)

Fun and Games

My feet fly, and the faint light of a breathing sun stretches in the far distance. I grind my teeth. I pick up pace, and soon I've covered a mile. A house yawns in front of me, with red bricks and a brown wooden door. Pretty, but I wonder if the windows are nicer?

I go around the side of the house, crouching to keep under the sight of anyone who could possibly look out it. It's a one story house, so fortunately I won't have to deal with any stairs. I jump up, and test the window. It doesn't open immediately, and I start to work the knife underneath it, when it suddenly creaks open.

I carefully pull myself into the darkened room, and I look at the figure lying ahead of me. Soft breathing permeates throughout the room, and I tiptoe closer to the dormant lump. It's a woman, weathered down from years of caring for children, from going through the nightmares of live. She looks familliar, and I realize with a start.

She's Alicia's mother. I shrug. I can't let that get to me now. I raise my arm, and in a swift motion, the white sheets become a shade of red. I twist the doorknob open, and the door opens, slightly squeaking on the rusting hinges.

I step out into the hallway, onto plush carpeting. I step lightly towards the door at the end of the hall. Halfway through the hall, it forks off into what seems like the living room. A shallow blue glow drifts through the frame, and I hear the quiet hum of a T.V.

I press myself against a wall, and creep slowly past. A soft snore chugs on from a chair in the living room, and a figure sleeps, hunched over. I drift over towards the girl, and slowly tug the door open. I slip into the room, unseen.

A girl lies, asleep in a world where I can't go. Her brown hair is messy, but she looks like a smaller version of Alicia, just with brown hair. She looks peaceful, and her hair flutters up and down with each breath. I slide my feet across the floor, as the door softly clicks shut. Immediately, her figure bolts upright, awake but disoriented. She drags her hand along the bedside table, feeling for something. My eyes, already adjusted, notes the small knife laying like a corpse on the table.

I appear next to her in a flash, and her eyes widen. She frantically tries to reach for the knife, but my hand is already over her mouth, and I drag her out of the bed. In a panic she claws at my face, but her fingernails are cut short and give no injury. Her voice is muffled as I draw my knife out.

"Mmmhp. Puhmmm." She hums through my fingers, and I clench her face in my aching fingers. She vainly tries to elbow my stomach, stomp my foot, but it doesn't hurt. The pain feels nice, a sign that I'm awake, a sign I'm alive.

I slide the knife into her neck, and the flailing slows. Her body goes limp, and crimson stains imprint themselves on my already colored hands. I drop her body, and her eyes are wide open, terrified but defiant at the same time.

Should I let the father survive? The question is already answered as I bolt out of the house, the howls of blood lusting furies attacking my heels. My feet move in the same rhythmic manner, and the blood drips off of my nightgown, the blood of a mother and her daughter.

Police sirens screech in the distance, but they're not heading to Alicia's house. They're heading west, someone else has fallen.

I stumble through the door, and Jane sits at the table, sipping from a clear glass. The air is filled with the musky smell of perfume, trying vainly to mask the scent of blood.

"Hey." She greets me, raising her glass in my direction. I nod at her, and open the refrigerator.

"There's nothing in there. I just helped myself at the girl's house." She explains, motioning to the glass in her hands.

"Okay." I say, and collapse in the chair. I close my eyes. I hate to admit it, but I'm tired. I start to drift off, but I'm awoken by a hand shaking my shoulder.