r/Iconpasta

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]

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.

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.

(The fan art above is not mine)

Well, they were quite popular as a ship, especially among their creators, Delucat and Yaguyi, but then, with the rewriting of Bloody Painter in 2017, the ship ceased to be canon.

But what's your opinion on this?

​

Not my creepypasta character, by the way.

The creater: violetkillerkittz

Reddit cropped these images, but I think clicking them makes them full screen for better viewing.

I thought it might be fitting on this Reddit to show my AU anthro version of Jeff The Killer, where he’s a horse! Here’s some of the art I’ve made, I’m curious on people’s thoughts on him, I call him Jorse :]

[https://www.wattpad.com/story/314217347?utm\\\_source=ios&utm\\\_medium=link&utm\\\_content=share\\\_writing&wp\\\_page=create&wp\\\_uname=TheSkullio\](https://www.wattpad.com/story/314217347?utm\_source=ios&utm\_medium=link&utm\_content=share\_writing&wp\_page=create&wp\_uname=TheSkullio)

Art commissions by:

@ oifrann\_ on Instagram
@ AlegoticT on Twitter
@ RoksoDraws on Twitter
@ jrgdrawing-real on Tumblr
@ RoksoDraws on Twitter
@ SketchyBurnz on Twitter
@ oifran\_ on Instagram
@ oifrann\_ on Instagram

Archived Police File — Toby Rogers

Case Reference: TR-14

Lead Investigator Reviewing File: Detective Marcus Hale

Status: Missing — Presumed Dead

Charges: Murder, Arson

⸻

[CASE SUMMARY]

Tobias “Toby” Rogers became the primary suspect in a homicide investigation following the death of his father.

According to official records, the incident occurred several days after a severe automobile accident involving Toby and his family.

The crash resulted in:

The death of Toby’s sister.
Permanent injury to Toby.
Severe psychological trauma.

Three days later, Toby’s father was found dead.

Shortly afterward, the Rogers residence was deliberately set on fire.

Toby’s mother died inside the home.

Toby Rogers disappeared before emergency services arrived.

A rusted hatchet believed to belong to the suspect was reported missing from the residence.

Subject has not been located.

Official status remains:

MISSING — PRESUMED DEAD.

⸻

[INVESTIGATOR NOTES]

Detective Hale:

While reviewing older case files connected to the word “proxy,” I discovered several references to Tobias Rogers.

Most were dismissed as rumors.

One recurring claim appears throughout witness reports.

The claim states that Toby Rogers survived the house fire and entered the woods surrounding the town.

The same woods connected to multiple Rose the Killer sightings.

The same woods where Rose reportedly disappeared years ago.

The same woods where numerous missing persons cases remain unsolved.

⸻

[UNCONFIRMED INFORMATION]

Several witness statements reference an organized group known only as:

“THE PROXIES”

Descriptions vary.

Some reports describe them as followers.

Others describe them as servants.

Many reports connect them to a single entity.

An urban legend.

A creature.

A man.

A myth.

Slender Man.

⸻

[ENTITY DESCRIPTION]

According to collected reports, Slender Man is described as:

Extremely tall.
Unnaturally thin.
Completely faceless.
Dressed in a black suit.
Limbs distorted beyond normal human anatomy.

Witnesses also claim his body appears to be made entirely of television static.

His face, hands, and exposed skin reportedly flicker and distort like a broken television screen. Several witnesses stated that his outline constantly shifted, making it impossible to focus on him for more than a few seconds.

Several reports claim static interference occurs in his presence.

Electronic devices allegedly malfunction near sightings.

Witnesses frequently report headaches, memory loss, paranoia, hallucinations, and visual disturbances before encounters.

No evidence confirming the entity’s existence has ever been officially accepted.

Case status:

CLOSED.

Reason:

Urban Legend.

⸻

[ADDITIONAL EVIDENCE]

Following the Rogers house fire, investigators discovered a concealed room within the damaged structure.

Inside were dozens of drawings.

The drawings depicted:

A tall faceless figure.
Distorted trees.
Human figures standing beneath the entity.
Symbols resembling those later found in proxy-related investigations.

Several of the drawings specifically showed the figure’s body covered in dark static-like patterns, matching descriptions given by witnesses.

Despite severe fire damage throughout the residence, the drawings were completely untouched.

No explanation was recorded.

Photographs remain archived.

⸻

[PERSONAL NOTE — DETECTIVE HALE]

I don’t believe in urban legends.

I don’t believe in monsters.

But every road I follow keeps leading back to the same woods.

Rose.

The cult.

The proxies.

Toby Rogers.

And now Slender Man.

Maybe they’re all connected.

Maybe they’re not.

Either way, I’m reopening the Slender Man file.

Something is happening in this town.

And I intend to find out what it is.

— Detective Marcus Hale

[END FILE]