Scary Story Time! - Foul is Fair (Installment 1)

Yo, reader-sans!  So since it is the best month ever and also the month of things to scare your socks off, I thought I'd so some scary story posts.  This is something I'm currently writing and it's a little frightening, but not really that scary.  I guess it's more disturbing than anything, really.  Anyhow, it's technically a fan fiction (not one of those Seven Minutes in Heaven type deals  >_<) about some of the serial killer creepypastas.  If you've never read any creepypastas and you like scary things, you should.  You'll have nightmares for DAYS!  Anyway, enough of my rambling.  Here's the first installment of my story "Foul is Fair."  Constructive criticism would be much appreciated! (^_^)


- Turtle-chan

                The closet door is closed and there is no light except for what leaks through the crack in the door from the hallway and the moonlight outside.  You can hear muffled voices carrying from down the hall, but you can’t quite catch the words.  The sound of your ragged breathing crashes down on your eardrums.  Most of the voices you hear are deeper—men’s voices—a couple are higher—women or children—and one is like a whisper or a tickling in the back of your mind.

                You huddle back into the corner of the closet, curled up into yourself, unable to scream, unable to move, barely able to breathe.  You feel your heart hammering against your ribcage and you distantly wonder how it hasn’t beaten its way out of your chest and onto the floor yet.

                You notice a little too late that the talking has stopped and there is a shadow obstructing the light coming under the door.  The sound of static fills your head and you shake it, as though you’re trying to dislodge water from your ears.  The door slowly begins to creak its way open, but you can’t hear anything and you can’t breathe.

                Something tall and roughly man-shaped looms in the doorway, towering over you with a broad-bladed kitchen knife in hand.  You freeze in place and will yourself to disappear.  It doesn’t work.  The creature bends down to your level and holds up the knife.  The moonlight streaming through the open window is just bright enough that you can see its split-open smile and bugging eyes.

                “Go to sleep!” the creature exclaims, its grin broadening painfully.

                The last thing you remember before fainting is seeing a group of silent figures standing behind the creature, watching.

~~~

                You wake up to find yourself staring up at a dark ceiling.  The room is dark, but cold moonlight seems to be coming through a window.  You try to sit up but are unable to and the movement makes your shoulders feel like they are going to pop out of their sockets.  You realize that you are tied to a bed of some sort.  Your chest and legs are also strapped down.  You take a deep breath in and are immediately assaulted by the stench of bleach and antiseptic.  Hospital.

                You shudder.  Hospitals have never really been your thing.   Instead of freaking out like you want to, however, you focus on taking deep breaths and clearing your head.  In the midst of your efforts, you hear a door open and, involuntarily, your body goes tense.  You force yourself to go limp and close your eyes, pretending to be asleep.  You feel large cold hands on your wrists and the bonds loosen.  You open your eyes.

                A male figure with either dark brown or black hair—it’s hard to say in the semi-darkness—bends over you, untying your bonds, but not removing the chest and leg restraints.  He is wearing a sweatshirt that looks like it is blue, but you can’t see his face.

                “I told them it’s not safe to tie someone up like this.  What if they did muscle or nerve damage?  And did they even think about dislocations?” the boy muttered, massaging some feeling back into your wrists with icy hands.

                “U-um… Thank you,” you say, a little worried about what will happen now that you’ve spoken to him.

                “Ah, you’re awake.  Perfect timing.  Would you mind moving your fingers one at a time for me,” he says, gently lowering your arms to your sides but not releasing your wrists.

                You do as he says, moving each finger one by one, wincing at the pins and needles you feel now that the blood is starting to flow in your hands again.

                “Good.  It looks like you’re still in good shape,” he tells you, sounding pleased.  You notice for the first time that his voice sounds slightly muffled, as though he had something covering his face.

                “Thank you for untying me,” you repeat, not sure what else to say.

                The guy releases your wrists and your hands lay at your sides.  “Not at all,” he says, turning away and busying himself with something beside you.  “I didn’t want those guys to ruin your body before I could run a few tests on you.”

                “Wait, am I sick?  You’re a doctor, right?” You ask him, wondering why you’d be in a hospital otherwise.

                “Well, I think the answer to both of your questions is technically ‘no,’” he says and he seems to be laughing.  “I’m certainly not a doctor in the conventional sense of the word, at least.”

                “Then why am I here?” you ask him, starting to worry.  You look up and try to read his expression.

                “Easy,” he says.  “You’re our victim!”

                You find his face in the dark and gasp in shock.  He wears a blue mask with no facial features except for eyeholes, but behind the holes there is nothing but blackness.  A strange, thick black goo oozes out of the holes and slides down the cheeks of the mask like tears.  You feel a needle pierce your arm and soon you fall unconscious again.

~~~

The next time you wake up, you feel an aching in your side and your hands are strapped to your sides.  There is a heavy weight on your chest and you open your eyes to find yourself staring into a pair of lidless black eyes.

You blink and the entire face comes into focus.  It looks male-ish, with a square jaw and seemingly flat chest.  It has roughly shoulder-length black hair and leathery skin so pale that it looks as though there is no blood left in its body, even though there is blood on its cheeks from the deep gashes cut to look like a smile.  The creature is straddling you, sitting on your stomach and pinning you down.  It is heavy and breathing is difficult.  It brings one large hand up and clasps it over your mouth before leaning over you, its hair surrounding you like a curtain.  Its slit-wide smile gets even wider and its lidless eyes gleam with malice.  It raises a large knife from the bed and caresses your cheek with it.

You feel your eyes go wide open and you can’t help but flinch, your heart rate skyrocketing.  The creature seems to notice your fear and it chuckles.  “Don’t worry, this will only hurt for a second,” it says in a deep, rough voice.

This isn’t overly comforting to you, but before you get a chance to protest, it begins to cut into your cheeks.  You feel hot liquid streaking down your face and into your hair, drenching the sheets you lay on.  The creature laughs and cackles as it works and it moves to slit your throat.

“GO.  TO.  SLEEP!” it roars.

Before it can make the final cut, the sound of static fills the air and in the back of your mind, you hear a whispery voice say,” Jeff!  Release the child this instant!”

The creature, Jeff, glowers, somehow, but climbs off of your chest and walks toward the door.

“Whatever, Slendy.  She was no fun anyway,” he growls.

“I am the Slender Man.  You would do well to remember that, Jeffry,” the whispering voice says in a warning tone.

You glance over at the doorway, trying to ignore the pain and the bleeding.  There are two figures at the door.  One is very tall and very thin with four… six… eight arms?  The other is the guy who untied you earlier.

“Eyeless Jack, would you tend to the lady, please?” the whispering voice requests.  The guy nods, moving forward into the room.  “My apologies, child.  Jeffry is not known for thinking before he takes action.  Eyeless Jack shall tend to your wounds, however.  Get well,” the whispering voice tells you.

The tall man, the Slender Man, leaves the room and the static sounds subside.  Eyeless Jack begins to sterilize his instruments.

“Just relax,” he tells you.  “Don’t try to speak.  You’re losing too much blood for me to have time to put you under and I don’t usually keep any local anesthetics around, so you’ll just have to bear with it, I’m afraid.”

He pulls out what looks like rubbing alcohol, a curved needle, and thin black thread.  He also has a large amount of gauze.  You feel afraid and the pain and blood loss are making you dizzy.  He washes his hands and snaps on a pair of surgical gloves.

“I’m going to start now,” he tells you in his soft, muffled voice.  “If the pain gets to be too much, I want you to touch my arm and I’ll give you something to bite down on so you don’t bite off your own tongue.”

You feel yourself trembling, but you’re not sure if it’s out of fear of the pain or fear of the man.  He bends over your head and begins to work.  The curved needle—a suture, you believe it’s called—dips in and out of your flesh.  It hurts, but you marvel at the speed and efficiency with which his hands move.  His mask hovers over you and you almost feel like you can see a line of concentration between where the eyebrows should be and a slight squint to the eyeholes.  But, of course, that’s not possible because the mask is made of hard plastic and it cannot move or bend with the wearer’s face.

You breathe a sigh of relief as Eyeless Jack cuts off the excess thread, but then you remember that he still has to mend the other cheek.  He dabs at the open wound with gauze soaked in alcohol and you wince.

“Are you alright,” he asks, leaning over your face, the empty holes in his mask seeming to stare straight into you.

You nod, putting on an apologetic expression and hoping that he gets the idea.

“Remember to let me know if you need something to bite down on,” he says, turning back to his work.

You clench your fists and wait as he makes stitch after stitch in your skin.  This side seems to take longer and by the time he finishes, there are rosy rays of early morning sunlight filtering into the room.

“That should do it,” he says, stepping back and washing his hands and equipment.  “You’re probably not going to want to move that mouth too much for a little while and I’m going to have to keep monitoring you to make sure the blood loss didn’t affect anything, but other than that, you’re good to go.

“Thanks.  Again,” you whisper, wincing at the tug of the stitches.

“No problem.  It’s good practice.  Maybe next time you should stay away from Jeff, though.  He’s one of the worst of us.  Then again, I guess we’re all pretty bad,” he says, chuckling darkly.

You’re curious as to what he means, but you’re afraid to ask.  You watch him from the bed as he puts all of his equipment away neatly.  He’s pretty strange, but you don’t think he’s that bad.  And the Slender Man was very polite.  The only really abominable one was that Jeff guy.

You’re startled out of your thoughts when Eyeless Jack comes over to your bed and lifts back your shirt.  You gasp in surprise and try to pull it back down—no small feat when your hands are bound.

“Don’t worry, I’m just checking to make sure the stitches all held,” he tells you, seeming to look at something near your hip.

“Stitches?” you croak.

“From where I removed your kidney last night.  It was delicious!” he tells you and you can hear a smile in his voice.  You don’t like it one bit.  You feel your eyes widening in shock and fear once again.

Eyeless Jack just chuckles and moves on, hooking you up to an ECG and putting an IV in your arm.  The machine’s steady beeping should be comforting, but you find it unnerving instead.

“There’s some painkiller in your IV bag, so you’ll probably sleep it off,” he says, walking out of the room.  He looks like he’s going to leave, but then he stops in the doorway.  “You might want to be more vigilant here.  There are certain people who are skilled with technology in this house and they don’t use it for good purposes…  Sleep well.”

You wonder about what he means by not using technology for good purposes, but the room is going fuzzy and it’s hard to keep your eyes open.  As your eyelids slip closed, you vaguely notice that the beeping of the ECG sounds like someone laughing

~~~

You’re dreaming.  Somehow, you’re aware of this, but you still feel like it’s real.  You’re standing in a field that goes on for what seems like forever.  The wind blows and your hair whips around your face.  The sun is beating down, but you’re freezing cold.  You hear laughter.  Young, childish laughter.  The noise is everywhere, surrounding you.

You whip around to look behind you.  Nothing is there, but the laughing continues.  You slowly turn around again and before you is a boy who looks like he’s about thirteen or fourteen years old, dressed like Link from the Legend of Zelda.   He’s playing on a Nintendo handheld and he glances up to look at you with mischievous eyes.

“’Sup (y/n).  We’re playing a game,” he says, focusing on the game again.

“How do you know my name?” you ask him, a chill running down your spine.

“I’m in your head, aren’t I?  I know plenty about you,” he says sassily.

“Fine.  Who are you?” you ask, hoping for a better answer.

“Asking all the wrong questions,” he mutters.  Then he looks you directly in the eye.  “Look, you don’t need to know who I am.  You just need to play the game.”

The kid is irritating you by now and you decide to snap back at him.  “Oh, yeah, well then what’s the game, smart ass?”

“Ah, you’re learning.  At this rate, you may get a gold star, or even level up.  In another thousand years or so,” he quips.  “We’re going to play a game where you run for your life and I kill you.”

“Wha-?” you start to ask, but the kid cuts you off.

“Ready, set, GO!” he shouts, pixilating and then disappearing.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do, looking around you for a place to hide and finding none.  Then, you hear the kid’s voice again, right behind you.  “Run!”

And you do.  You run as fast as you can legs will carry you, but the landscape never changes.  It feels like you aren’t making any progress at all.  The sun changes position in the sky, but it never gets dark.  You can also faintly hear some sort of creepy, dissonant music in the air, but you mostly ignore it.

Every time you try to stop or look behind you, a creepy statue that looks like the kid pops up.  It has this horrifying blank face with a smile that looks like a grimace.  No matter what you do, you can’t shake it and every time it pops up in your way, you hear the creepy laughing again.

Finally, when you can’t run anymore, you collapse in a heap on the ground.  Your breathing comes in gasps and your legs and lungs are on fire.  Your body feels like it’s made of jelly.

“You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you,” a voice says behind you.

You don’t even have the strength to move.  “Go away or kill me.  Just hurry up,” you gasp.

The kid laughs his creepy electronic laugh and you steel yourself for more pain, but it doesn’t come.  You hear the whispery voice again and static fills your ears.

“Ben,” the voice says.  “Ben, leave the child be.  You shall have your turn yet.  Release her for now.”

The kid grumbles,” Whatever, Slendy.  See ya later, (y/n),” he says with a smirk.

All of a sudden, you’re awake on the hospital bed, struggling against your restraints.  Several pairs of hands are on you, holding you down.  Eyeless Jack is pulling off the leads for the ECG and unhooking IV.

“I told you to be careful, (y/n),” he says quietly.

You look around at the people holding you down. One of them is wearing a white mask with big black eyes, little black eyebrows raised in shock, and kind of girlish black lips.  He has on a windbreaker in this weird kind of faded shade of yellow.  The other has on a yellowish-orange hoodie and a mask—or you hope it’s a mask at least—with big red eyes and a stitched red frown.  You stop thrashing and they slowly let you go.

“Feeling better?” one of them asks you.  You think it’s the one in the white mask because he is looking right at you while the one in the hoodie is looking at the floor.

“Kind of.  I’m sorry for making trouble for you two,” you respond.

“Don’t worry about it.  Ben has that effect on people,” the masked one says.

“Y-yeah, what M-masky said,” the hooded one adds.

“Come now, leave the child be.  I have a job for you, my proxies,” the Slender Man says.  You realize that you’ve gotten used to the static sounds by now and didn’t realize he was standing at the door.

“Yes, sir,” the masked one says.

“Y-yeah,” the one in the hoodie echoes.

“Eyeless Jack, tend to (y/n) if you would,” the Slenderman Says.

Eyeless Jack nods and closes the door behind them.  “How are you feeling,” he asks once they’ve all left.

“I’m fine.  I’d like to be able to walk around, though,” you tell him.

He looks away from you.  “It’s not safe,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?  Well I’ve been jumped three times now thanks to you, Eyeless Jack, and that’s just all that I’m aware of,” you snap, regretting it the instant the words leave your mouth.  Except for the kidney incident, he’s only helped you.

He looks up at you, his empty eye sockets dripping viscous black fluid down his mask.  “Call me E.J.,” he finally says.

“What?”

“E.J.  Everyone but Slender Man calls me E.J.  You can too,” he repeats.

“Ookaayy, E.J., why is it too dangerous to at least unstrap me?” you ask slowly and calmly.

“There are dangerous people here.  We’re all dangerous people,” he responds cryptically, looking away from you again and fiddling with a scalpel.

“But wouldn’t it be safer if I could run away from dangerous people?” you ask.  “That Ben guy got me in my sleep.  Jeff too, and even you.  With Jeff, I couldn’t do anything to defend myself.  Not even something as futile as batting him away or screaming.”

E.J. makes a noise that sounds like a sigh.  “I guess you’re right, but you have to promise me something,” he says.

You perk up.  “Sure!  What is it, E.J.?”

“You can never leave this room unless myself, Masky, or Hoodie is with you.  I would say Slender Man as well, but he is usually very busy,” he says.

“Yeah!  That’s easy!” you exclaim.

“No, you’re not taking this seriously!” he says, raising his voice.  You jump a little, surprised that he is anything less than calm and collected.  “There are very, very bad, sick people in this house.  What you’ve seen is just the tip of the iceberg.  There are very few people I would even remotely trust here” Slender Man, and by extension his proxies, Masky and Hoodie.  Toby is crazy, Jeff is a sociopath, Ben is a sadist, and the list goes on.  I’m not safe either, but I have more self control than many of the rest of us as long as I’m well rested and not hungry.  Seriously, I’m telling you to be careful.”

You let it all sink in.  “Alright.  I understand.  I’ll be careful,” you tell him soberly.

He nods.  “Hold still,” he says as he moves over to your bedside.

He leans over you to undo the leg restraints and then the chest restraints.  You can’t help but notice that he smells of soap, antiseptic, and something else musky and boyish.  His hands are big and pale, like he’s never been out in the sun before.  They work quickly and efficiently.  For a moment, he almost seems normal, like a boy you’d meet at school and maybe even befriend.

But as his hand brushes against your side, you remember that he is an unstable person who steals people’s organs and eats them.  There’s no way you could ever consider any of them human.

“There,” E.J. says  quietly, stepping away from you.

You slowly try to sit up, ignoring the pain in your side and the stiffness in your muscles.  You lower your feet to the ground and try to stand up, but you wobble and almost fall.  E.J. darts out a hand to steady you.

“I’m fine,” you tell him through clenched teeth, trying to keep yourself upright.

Jack nods but keeps his hand on your elbow.  You try to take a few steps forward and rejoice when you make it over to the tray holding E.J.’s equipment.

“You don’t have to force yourself,” E.J. tells you.

“No, I’m tired of inactivity,” you respond.

“Alright, but if I feel like you’re trying too hard, you’re going back to bed, okay?” he says.

“Fine,” you respond, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

You carry on like this until you make a full circuit around the room.  You’re about  to try to do another, but E.J. holds you back.

“(y/n), I think you’ve done enough for now.  If you wear yourself out too much, your ability to move won’t do you any good when someone comes to pay you a visit,” he says.

“But E.J.,” you begin to complain.

“No, you need to rest.  I promise either I or Masky and Hoodie will come to take you for a walk around the mansion tomorrow.  For now, just go to sleep,” he tells you firmly.

You wince at the unintentional allusion to Jeff but decide to obey.  E.J. walks you over to the hospital bed and watches as you settle in.  You can’t help but blush.  He covers you up to your chin with a blanket and tucks it in around your shoulders.  Almost as an afterthought, he reaches over and gently brushes a few stray hairs off of your forehead.

As he’s walking out the door, he leans against the doorframe and says, “Rest up.  Doctor’s orders.”  You can hear him smiling just in the way he says it.

“Goodnight, E.J.,” you say as he closes the door.  Then, you roll over on your side and notice a small window near the top of the wall.  You can’t see out of it, but it lets light in an d the room is bathed in sliver moonlight, glinting like the edge of a sharpened knife.

“Nice night,” a deep, rough voice comments.

You jump and sit up a little too fast.  Your head spins and you feel like you’re going to be sick.

“Woah, easy there.  I’m not going to hurt you tonight.  E.J. would take my kidneys and eat them if I messed up his needlework,” the voice says, chuckling.

You look up to see a dark figure leaning against the wall.  It pushes itself off the wall and moves toward you.  As it gets closer, you identify the white sweatshirt and the long black hair.  Jeff.  You feel a jolt of terror, but try to trust that he’ll keep his word.

He sits down on the edge of your bed and looks at you with his unblinking eyes, his grin widening.

“What do you want?” you ask defensively, crossing your arms.

He laughs.  “I’m just here like everyone else, checking up on you after Ben almost did what none of the rest of us could,” he responds.

“So you’re here to make fun of me, then,” you snap back.

“Nope.  I’m just here,” he responds.

“Well don’t be.  I’m trying to sleep,” you tell him, hoping being mean will drive him away.

“’Doctor’s orders,’ right?” he teases.

You blush and glare at him.  “Stalker,” you accuse.

“It comes with the territory, babe,” he responds cockily.

“Yeah, whatever,” you reply, turning away from him.

You’re both silent for several minutes and you’re beginning to wonder if he actually left and you just didn’t realize it.  Before you can turn and look, Jeff speaks up.

“Seriously, though.  Slendy asked me to keep an eye on you for E.J. so he can get some sleep and some food.  Poor dude’s exhausted,” he says quietly.

You’re surprised by his assertion and you turn to look at him again.  “What’s wrong with E.J.,” you ask, feeling irrationally embarrassed to be using his nickname so familiarly.

Jeff laughs again and you realize that the actually has a nice laugh and a nice voice in general.  “He’s been taking care of you all this time.  You’re pretty high maintenance, you know.  Dude’s tired and he hasn’t been hunting in days.  Slendy says he came to him earlier tonight to ask for someone to guard you.  Said he feels unstable and your one remaining kidney is too tempting, but he doesn’t want to let the other guys get you either.  That’s where I come in.  Slendy says he’s trying to teach me ‘responsibility’ or some shit like that,” he informs you.

“Somehow, that’s not very comforting.  E.J. said you’re a sociopath,” you respond.  “But he also said he’s not rational when he’s hungry, so I don’t think I want to risk losing my other kidney.”

“Hey, I’m here because right now I’m the safest non-proxy other than Slendy himself.  I went hunting all night last night, so I think I can make it for a few hours while you sleep.  Can you trust me for just one night?”  he asks, his face as serious as he can make it.

You look him in the eyes and see none of the usual malice for once.  You slowly nod.  “Okay.  I’ll trust you for tonight, but only for tonight.  And if you give me any reason to do otherwise, I’ll scream,” you tell him.

The grin is back.  “Fair enough!” he exclaims.  “I’ll go wait in the hall, so holler if you need me.  Or if you want me.”  He laughs again, enjoying teasing you.

You glare at him again, but lower yourself down onto the bed and pull up the blanket.  Jeff moves to leave, but pauses, staring at you.

“That’s a good look for you,” he says, brushing a leathery finger lightly over the stitches on one of your cheeks.

You blush deeply and turn away from him so he can’t see you.  “Whatever, creep,” you mumble.

Jeff laughs again, softer this time.  “Go to sleep,” he says gently.

You hear the door shut behind him and you settle into the bed with a sigh.  You know how dangerous Jeff is and E.J. said not to trust him.  Part of you refuses to trust him, but some other part of you, maybe a big part, is thrilled that he’s there, right outside your door, protecting you.  With muddled thoughts, you fall asleep and are glad when you do not dream.

~~~