Creepypasta Origin stories

Murderous Seraphina

And unsurprisingly, the dinner date went pretty swell. I had a lot of fun. It seems like she did too.

Turns out a lot has happened since the last time we've seen each other. Seraphina is now a clinical psychologist, and she's doing pretty great for herself. It turns out she took psychology after recovering from the accident she was involved in during our high school graduation.

You see, the poor girl was badly burned when a keg of firework gunpowder accidentally blew up next to her. Not only was she burned, but she also suffered an awful concussion. She apparently remembers nothing between the ages of 18 – 20. So, she opted to study psychology to help herself remember her lost years. She knows that she had spent those two years in and out of various medical institutions. Re-learning how to function and recovering from her injuries.

She wears a glove on her left hand at basically all times, apparently because she doesn't like anyone sees the scars she has.

I remember little from those two years either, 2005 – 2007 were incredibly stressful years for me too. I think, for all of us. Oh yeah, in the span of eighteen months, seven people from my class had died. Nobody knows why or how. It's assumed they all took something that caused systemic failure. No foreign materials were found in their bodies, but eventually, the forensics concluded that they all had some syringe wound on their forearms. That made all the more sense considering they were all good friends.

They did find something odd; all of them had feathers in their throats, but they concluded it that those were placed in the corpses post mortem. So they suspected the mortician of doing that. He got fired and fined for that schtick. The guy protested he didn't do that.

Honestly, no one knows anything for sure about these deaths.

Seraphina had no clue about that. I'll be honest, I didn't remember much about it either. It was definitely fucked up, but it was sort of blurry, so I didn't press the issue. She seemed pretty empathetic towards her deceased classmates, even though she was never close to any of them. Hell, she probably hated all of them at one point or another. They've all bullied her at some point. One of them is the aforementioned Matt Haskins, another guy, TJ Lawrence. She broke his face once, after he spilled her coffee over her head.

She told me she dislocated her knee doing that, by repeatedly kicking him in the head. There was some glee in her voice when she disclosed that fact, glee mixed with childlike excitement. It's like she didn't know whether or not she liked doing that; as if she wasn't sure if it's wrong or not.

Anyway, before we went our separate ways, we've exchanged phone numbers. As I was about to leave, she wrapped her hand around me before making a peace sign with her other hand and taking a selfie of us both.

I didn't think of it much; I just hugged her, and we've said our goodbyes.

I didn't even ask her to send me the photo. I'm not the biggest fan of photography, and I'm pretty sure I know why.

Yesterday Seraphina sent me the photo.

I opened the file and for a moment it seemed fine, just the two of us, smiling. A café in the background.

The longer I looked, the worse that image had become.

It became perverted.

Dark.

Painful to look at.

It was all wrong.

It is all wrong.

My... My memories corrupted it.

My fucking memories. They corrupted the selfie... That was it.

Seraphina was there, in a dark; poorly lit warehouse room.