Creepypasta

The Curious Case of Marianne Reynolds

Her mother told me that rather than growing out of the phase like she had hoped, the girl had become more and more insistent that her imaginary friend was real. To the point that she had resorted to violence whenever someone denied the existence of Angel.

By the time her mother had finished explaining it was getting dark, so I decided to make my way home, promising that I would return later in the week. As I left the house I felt eyes upon me, I turned back and looked at the house, in the top floor window sat Marianne, smiling at me as I drove away.

The country road was dark and winding, lit only by the dim headlamps on my car. Making my way through the narrow lanes, I was suddenly met by an object in the road, hurtling out of the hedgerow and breakneck speed. Its body reflected the dull light from the headlights, creating a truly terrifying shadow on the road ahead. I slammed on the breaks, coming to a halt mere feet from the object which was now slumped in the middle of the road.

Upon inspection, the object revealed itself to be the carcass of a deer, long since dead. Maggots seeped through bald, decomposing holes in its flesh. Flies erupted from sockets that once held eyes and the stench of decay filled the cool country air.

There was no way that this deer had jumped out in front of me. I went back to my car, opened the glove box and pulled out a small hand crank torch. I turned the handle of the torch and light began to radiate from the bulb. I shone the ray of light of light against the bushes on either side of the road, the shadows of thorns and berries dancing as the glow passed over them. I was about to turn my attention to the other bush when the dancing of the hedgerow stopped, and the beam of my torch found its way through a clearing in the shrubbery, lighting up the cornfield behind.

In the distance was a darkened figure, too far away to distinguish any features. I only caught a glimpse of it before my torch faded away, leaving me in darkness. I furiously cranked the handle some more and light began to illuminate the field one more. The figure had disappeared, leaving no trace of itself in the corn. Deducing that I was the victim of a random, albeit strange act, I kicked what was left of the deer aside, climbed back into my car and carried on my journey.

The rest of the week passed by fairly uneventfully and the following Tuesday I set out once again to see Marianne and her parents. There had been a large snowstorm the evening before and the roads were covered in layers of thick black ice. As a Scotsman I wasn't going to let a little bit of snow stop me from doing my job and set off despite warnings on the news of unsafe driving conditions.

I got to the old farmhouse late that morning. I asked her parents if there had been any change in their daughters condition. They both looked at one another with apprehension.

"She's started drawing again." Her father said, forcing a smile. "She's really quite good." He chuckled.

I asked if I could see her drawings, often a child's drawings can tell you a lot about what's going on inside their head... I wish I had never asked.

First her father handed me an old Auto-Trader magazine, directing me to page 23. An article about the development of the modern car breaking system. But scribbled over the article was a crude drawing of a man in a suit. A man with fiery orange hair, cut short at the sides and swept back in the middle. It was me. I smiled nervously.

"That's quite a likeness," I said, handing back the magazine nervously.

Her mother then avoided eye contact with me as she handed me a torn piece of wallpaper from Marianne's room. On the back was another drawing. My blood turned cold in my veins, sending a shiver all through my body. On the paper was a crayon picture of a dismembered deer. Maggots seeping from its open wounds, flies hovering around crossed out eyes. Above the deer stood Marianne, holding hands with a tall shadowy stick figure.