r/CreepyPastas

I'll answer them~

Recovered Personal Audio Log — Detective Marcus Hale

Recorded: November 6, 2014

Status: Unofficial Recording

⸻

[BEGIN AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

Click.

This is Detective Marcus Hale.

It’s been three days since my interview with Nina.

Since then, she hasn’t spoken a single word.

She hasn’t eaten.

She hasn’t slept.

At least… I don’t think she has.

Every time I walk past her cell, she’s sitting in the exact same position.

Smiling.

Just staring at me.

Waiting.

Long pause.

After the interview, I immediately went to check on my family.

I wish I hadn’t.

Silence.

Nina wasn’t lying.

They were already dead.

My wife.

My brother.

Everyone.

The scene was…

Recording pauses for several seconds.

I can’t describe it.

Not completely.

I’ve worked homicide for years.

I’ve seen things most people couldn’t imagine.

But what happened in that house…

It wasn’t normal.

Nothing about it was normal.

For a moment, I almost went back to the station and killed Nina myself.

I wanted answers.

I wanted someone to blame.

Instead, I came back here.

Because if I don’t figure this out…

More people are going to die.

Paper shuffling.

The cult is growing.

I know it is.

Every report points to the same thing.

More sightings.

More symbols.

More disappearances.

Something is coming.

And whatever it is, Rose is behind it.

Pause.

There’s one thing I can’t get out of my head.

During the interview, Nina mentioned something.

Proxies.

I still don’t know exactly what they are.

But I’ve heard the word before.

Only once.

Years ago.

An old case file.

A boy named Toby Rogers.

Most officers dismissed it as nonsense.

I didn’t.

Not then.

And definitely not now.

The more I look into Rose, the more I keep finding connections.

Connections nobody else seems willing to acknowledge.

Maybe they’re scared.

Maybe they think I’m losing my mind.

Honestly…

Maybe I am.

The other officers have started looking at me differently.

They whisper when I walk past.

They think I’m obsessed.

That grief has broken me.

That I’m seeing things that aren’t there.

But I know what I saw.

And I know what Nina said.

Long pause.

Tomorrow, I’m going into the woods.

The same woods Rose disappeared into years ago.

I’m not leaving until I find something.

Evidence.

Answers.

Rose himself.

Dead or alive.

I refuse to let him get inside my head.

I refuse to become one of them.

Before I go, I’m reopening the Toby Rogers file.

If proxies are connected to Rose…

If they’re connected to this cult…

Then that’s where the answers are.

Pause.

At least…

I hope they are.

Click.

[END TRANSCRIPT]

Hi need a name for my monster hereeee

The camera cuts to a grainy, low-light shot of a messy bedroom. It’s 3:00 AM, according to the glowing numbers on a digital alarm clock in the background. "Hey guys, it's Dave again. It's night three." I said with a shaking voice, with dark circles under my eyes looking like bruises. As I giggled nervously "sorry if I look like crap I haven't slept more than two hours a night since the first video. Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing that shadowy thing at the foot of my bed". Anyways a lot of you in the comments said I should set up a secondary camera to watch me while I sleep, just to prove it's sleep paralysis or whatever. So... I did. It’s recording right now at the foot of my bed." I point a trembling finger toward the ceiling. "If anything happens tonight, the footage will catch whatever it is. Anyways I'm gonna try to get some sleep. Wish me luck in the comments". The screen cuts to black, replacing the audio with the low, rhythmic hum of a bedroom fan. The camera shows it's 4:02 AM on the clock as the video switches to the night-vision angle from the corner of the room. Shows I'm a tangled up mess in my sheets, tossing & turning restlessly. Suddenly, the digital clock in the background begins to flicker. The numbers warp, shifting from 4:03 to a series of glitches. Then it shifts into different symbols as the camera bugs out a little bit. From within the shadows in the corner of the closet, as the darkness begins to split itself. It doesn't move like a shadow; it pours outward like thick, heavy liquid smoke, pooling across the floor. It defies the ambient light of the room, absorbing everything around it. Slowly, the smoke rises, shaping itself into a towering figure with two white dots for eyes. It glides toward the edge of the bed, hovering directly over my sleeping form. On camera, my breathing instantly stops. My back arches sharply off the mattress, a silent, agonizing gasp frozen in my throat. I awaken as the viewpoint abruptly snaps back to the primary camera on my nightstand. I jolted upright, tearing myself out of the nightmare, drenched in cold sweat. I’m gasping for air, clutching my chest as if something had been kneeling directly on it. As I said while out of breath "Oh my god," I cried into the palms of my hands. "It was right there. It was right on top of me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do anything". My body shook while I reached for my phone to stop the secondary camera recording as I checked the footage. I said while I caught a breath "I need to see it. I need to make sure I'm not crazy". I went to pull up the live feed of the room but stopped when I looked at the screen. I froze as the night-vision camera was still streaming. On my phone screen, I see myself sitting in bed, holding my phone, staring down in horror. But behind me rising from the shadows right was this jet black, smokey entity with those same white dots for eyes leaning over my shoulder, staring directly down into the phone screen at me. A faint, disembodied whisper echoes right against my ear as it bypasses the microphone entirely & it says to me. "Thanks for introducing me to your audience, Davey, I'll make sure your legacy stays alive". Before I could open my mouth to let out a scream the video feed abruptly cut to static & my body was never found again. But through the years more missing cases appear thanks to that same shadowy entity taking them while they sleep.

My name is Rose.

People at school call me a freak.

Maybe they’re right.

I got into another fight today. Three boys cornered me behind the gym like always. Jacob ended up with a broken arm, Cameron lost three teeth, and Tim… well, Tim couldn’t stand after I slammed his head against the concrete.

I don’t regret it.

The ride home was silent except for the sound of my mother’s old car rattling down the road. She kept glancing at me with disgust.

My messy black hair covered most of my face, hiding the empty glass eye sitting where my real one used to be. I was born different. Broken. At least that’s what everyone says.

“You need to stop obsessing over Jeff the Killer,” my mom snapped finally. “He murdered people in this town three years ago. Your father says evil like that spreads.”

I stared out the window.

“He isn’t evil,” I whispered. “He’s free.”

My mother looked horrified after I said that.

Good.

When we got home, my father was already waiting for me. Sage. The town priest. Everyone loved him.

If only they knew.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he yelled, grabbing me by the collar. “Hurting people in God’s world!”

Then he hit me.

Again.

And again.

His fists slammed into my ribs until I collapsed onto the kitchen floor gasping for air. The smell of whiskey poured from his breath while my mother stood there and watched.

Like always.

He dragged me to the table and forced a notebook in front of me.

“Write it,” he snarled.

I’m sorry.

I wrote the words over and over until my hand cramped and blood dripped from my knuckles onto the paper.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

Finally, he threw me into my room.

I locked the door and stared at myself in the mirror. Pale skin. One brown eye. One fake eye. Long black hair hanging over my face like a curtain.

I hated myself.

But I hated him more.

I reached into my drawer and pulled out my favorite scissors. The blades were stained dark from years of use.

Every time he hurt me, I cut myself.

Not because I wanted to die.

Because I wanted to remember.

Thin red lines opened across my arms and stomach. Blood slid down my skin while tears burned in my eyes. My body was covered in scars already. Proof of what he really was beneath the priest act.

A monster.

The next morning, I went to school pretending nothing happened.

That was my first mistake.

Tim and his friends were waiting for me near the football field. Tim’s arm was wrapped in a cast from the fight yesterday.

“Hey, freak,” he laughed. “We got you a present.”

He pulled out a flare gun.

Before I could move, he fired.

The pain was unreal.

I remember screaming.

I remember the smell of burning flesh.

Then darkness.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. My face felt like it was melting. I could hear my parents arguing outside the room.

“He looks like a monster now!” my father shouted. “He looks just like that killer she worships!”

I slowly climbed out of bed and looked into the mirror beside the sink.

Half my face was destroyed.

The skin was blackened and peeling away in strips. My hair on one side had burned off completely, exposing raw flesh underneath. Blood dripped from my jaw onto my hospital gown.

I should’ve been horrified.

Instead…

I smiled.

For the first time in my life, the monster on the outside finally matched the one inside.

I grabbed my scissors from my backpack before the doctors could stop me.

Slowly, I pushed the blades into the corners of my mouth.

The metal sliced through skin.

Blood flooded down my neck.

I kept cutting wider and wider until my cheeks split open into a permanent grin. The pain made my vision blur, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

I looked beautiful.

The smile kept tearing, so I grabbed a stapler from a nearby tray and stapled the skin together piece by piece.

Click.

Click.

Click.

My smile would never fade again.

I walked into the hallway covered in blood.

My parents froze when they saw me.

“Rose…” my mother whispered.

I buried the scissors into her throat before she could scream.

Blood sprayed across the hospital walls while she collapsed choking on her own blood. My father tried to run, but I tackled him to the floor.

“For God?” I whispered into his ear. “Where was God when you beat me?”

Then I stabbed the scissors into his eye.

Again.

Again.

Again.

I didn’t stop until his face was nothing but torn flesh and shattered bone.

The hospital alarms screamed around me as nurses ran in terror.

I laughed the entire time.

By the time the police arrived, I was gone.

The woods became my home after that.

Years passed.

People started disappearing near the forest. Campers. Hunters. Lost teenagers.

They always found the bodies smiling.

Some say I began worshipping Jeff the Killer like a god. Others say I became something worse than him.

Now people whisper my name the same way they whisper his.

Rose the Killer.

If you ever hear laughter outside your window late at night…

Don’t look.

Because if I see your face—

I’ll make sure you smile forever.

Recovered Journal Pages — Believed to Belong to Nina

Day 1
Hello everyone.
Or whoever ends up reading this.
Welcome to my journal, I guess.
I should probably say a little about myself first. My name is Nina. I have black hair with faded pink streaks in it and one strange pink eye. The other is brown.
People always stare at the pink one.
I’ve always liked being different though.
Makes me feel special.
I’ve been an orphan my entire life, so I don’t know which parent I got it from. Nobody at the orphanage ever cared enough to help me find out.
I’m almost eighteen now.
Finally.
Only a few more months until I can leave this place forever.
Today I moved into a new house temporarily through some housing program. The lady handing me the keys looked nervous the entire time.
She asked me three times if I was “sure” I wanted this house.
Apparently something bad happened here years ago.
I like it already.

Day 5
I finally looked up what happened in this house.
The killer’s name was Jeff Woods.
Jeff the Killer.
The internet calls him a monster.
But after reading everything…
I think they’re wrong.
People act like he was insane, but maybe he just understood something everyone else doesn’t.
Maybe people are only scared because he stopped pretending.
I found old stains under the floorboards in the upstairs hallway today.
The police must’ve missed them.
I touched one.
I don’t know why.
I couldn’t stop smiling afterward.

Day 18
Something weird is happening here at night.
I keep hearing footsteps in the woods behind the house.
Not animal sounds.
People.
Sometimes when I look out my bedroom window, I swear I can see someone standing between the trees watching the house.
Last night I found a symbol carved into the back door.
A smiling face with one hollow eye.
Nobody in town will explain what it means.
One cashier looked terrified when I mentioned it.
She told me to leave before dark.

Day 32
I finally learned who the symbol belongs to.
Rose.
Rose the Killer.
The town treats him like some ghost story, but everyone talks about him in whispers like they secretly know he’s real.
They say he worshipped Jeff.
They say he lives in the woods now.
They say he asks people if they smile often.
And if they don’t…
He fixes their smile himself.
I don’t think he’s evil.
I think he understands pain.
Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about him.

Day 67
I started seeing them now.
The smiling people.
White robes.
Candles in the woods at night.
They never come close to the house, but I see them standing between the trees almost every evening now.
Watching.
Waiting.
Last night one of them left something on the porch for me.
A photograph.
It was me sleeping in my room.
Written on the back in messy handwriting were the words:
YOU LOOK PRETTIER WHEN YOU SMILE
I should be scared.
But honestly…
I’ve never felt this important before.

Day 94
I saw him.
Or at least I think I did.
I woke up around 2 AM because I heard laughing outside my bedroom window.
Not loud laughing.
Soft.
Almost gentle.
When I pulled the curtain back, someone was standing near the tree line.
Tall.
Thin.
Long black hair covering part of his face.
And one shining eye staring directly at me.
The other looked empty.
He didn’t move.
Neither did I.
Then he smiled.
The staples in his mouth reflected in the moonlight.
I should’ve screamed.
Instead…
I smiled back.

Day 130
He is our savior.
He is right.
Jeff wasn’t a killer.
He was free.
And Rose understands freedom better than anyone.
The orphanage finally kicked me out now that I’m eighteen. They called me unstable after they saw what I did to my face.
I cut the smile myself.
Not because Rose told me to.
Because I wanted to look beautiful too.
The blood wouldn’t stop running down my neck at first. I almost passed out laughing while stitching the sides together in the bathroom mirror.
But it was worth it.
I look happier now.
Real happiness requires pain.
I understand that now.
I don’t know where I’m going next.
Probably the woods.
They’re waiting for me there.
This will probably be my final journal update.
If anyone finds this notebook—
Don’t follow the smiling people into the forest.
No matter how softly they laugh.

There’s more than one organization of killers, join the cult of Jeff an I roast the killer will lead any killer into the path of salvation down the road of our to the Lord and Savior Jeff the killer