Micheal Myers

Welcome to Haddonfield

Well that's what the sign reads anyways. You probably won't receive such a warm welcome from the local stalker anyways.

Rules:

-RP is always open, though just be warned Micheal Myers doesn't speak. So take that as you will

-Asks are open always

-18+ please

-yes, this is a killer and a stalker. Expect him to do so if you are to interact.

-he will be portrayed as lore accurate as possible with a few of my own HCs thrown in

-established relationship with @thatcatghostinred

-keep NSFW to a minimum. If you want something like that, it must be plotted out fully

About the mun:

Mun is 18+, works full-time, and is a full-time university student

Follows come from @thatcatghostinred

Tags:

#silence shapes answers- RP threads

#silence shapes art- art reblogs

#the shape of love- ship tag

#feeling shapely- NSFW

#not in shape- OOC and mun postings

#theshapeofthefog- general tag

[Dividers here]

there’s an art channel, aswell as a fanfiction channel to promote your accounts! sourcecall channel if you want to find your source friends too ^_^

you can read the dni list in disboard!

A closed starter for @theshapeofthefog

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌, 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖩𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖬𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉. 𝖪𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. “𝖨…𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, “𝖻𝗎t 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾.”

The scent of disturbed and rotting earth filled his nose as he made his steady pursuit towards the cemetery. He simply had returned to unearth the grave of his late sister, Judith Myers.

The only reason he stopped dead in his tracks was the visitor that shadow the grave his sister laid to rest at. He lurked just behind an extravagant headstone, stalking the individual. The girl was alone, no one else in sight, the perfect target.

𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖩𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖬𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌’ 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍. “𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽.

“𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁.” 𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗒𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗒. “𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇. 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.” 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

𝖡𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒. “𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾! 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇?” 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋. “𝖨…𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝖬𝖺𝗆𝖺,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽. “𝖨 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝗋𝖼𝗁.” 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇.

𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗇𝗈𝖽. “𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖫𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗅𝗒. “𝖠 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗍, 𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖦𝗈 𝗈𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗐. 𝖶𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖫𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇.”

[Divider by here]

The girl slowly left Judith's grave. She seemed sentimental about her. He however was not, he was not upset with what he had done all those years ago. The memories of his first kill filled his body with adrenaline as the thoughts of securing yet another as filled his mind.

The stalker paced behind the girl as she waltzed away from the graveyard. The house she entered was a small white house, unassuming amongst the rows of the others. Eyes fixed on the house as the girl creaked open, she entered.

Long strides led to the house's front porch. Listening carefully, an admonishing voice sounded. A mother to a daughter. Another person that he could kill.

He waited until the voices went out and silenced to enter the house. Opening the door, he took care to not make a sound. His presence was not to be yet known by its occupants.

Micheal took careful interest in the layout of the house. It was simple, easy to navigate. The kitchen lay not to far from himself. There he'd look for a weapon, preferably a sharp kitchen knife.

𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋. “𝖨’𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝖬𝗋𝗌. 𝖲𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆𝗅𝗒. “𝖲𝗎𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗂𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌. 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖡𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋.” 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗇𝗈𝖻. “𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖫𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾.” 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽, 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄.

𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗍𝗎𝖻. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖠𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖫𝗒𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖵𝖺𝗇 𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖪𝗅𝗈𝗄, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗒𝗆 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌.

“𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾,” 𝖫𝗒𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄,“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅. 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎.” 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾’𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝖿𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾.

The footsteps of the mother headed his way. Silently he stepped into another room, out of sight of the woman. He was going to kill her right there and then but then they stepped out of the house. interesting but none the less, the real victim was just up the stairs.

As the mother stepped outside the house, Myers made his way up the stairs towards the girl's bedroom. The bedroom door open just a crack, allowing him to peer through into the bedroom. No one was in there but the light in the bathroom was on.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗋𝗈𝗆. 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗅 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍, 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗉 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗉. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖺𝗅 𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖲𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗅. 𝖣𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗅'𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄. 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾'𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗎𝗀𝗅𝗒. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝖺 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇'𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌.

𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇. “𝖲𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀”, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝖲𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽, 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗇. 𝖨𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍...𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇. 𝖡𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍, 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗅'𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄. 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋, 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗌. "𝖨'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈, 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾..𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾. "𝖨'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍. 𝖨'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅. 𝖨'𝗆 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍... 𝖨'𝗆 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅. 𝖨'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅." 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗌, 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝗁𝗎𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁. 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌. "𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗉𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. "𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝖨'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍—"

As Myers lay in wait on the darkened closet with only light speckling through the slacks of the other doors, he heard a mirror break. Cries erupted from her in doing so. Perhaps she already felt in her bones that bad luck waited just behind the thin doored closet. Perhaps it was her mirro breaking habit that had brought him here with her bad luck. Or perhaps it was just the simple fact that she fit the bill for a perfect kill.

A closed starter for @theshapeofthefog

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌, 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖩𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖬𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉. 𝖪𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. “𝖨…𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, “𝖻𝗎t 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾.”

The scent of disturbed and rotting earth filled his nose as he made his steady pursuit towards the cemetery. He simply had returned to unearth the grave of his late sister, Judith Myers.

The only reason he stopped dead in his tracks was the visitor that shadow the grave his sister laid to rest at. He lurked just behind an extravagant headstone, stalking the individual. The girl was alone, no one else in sight, the perfect target.

𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖩𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖬𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌’ 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍. “𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽.

“𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁.” 𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗒𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗒. “𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇. 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.” 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

𝖡𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒. “𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾! 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇?” 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋. “𝖨…𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝖬𝖺𝗆𝖺,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽. “𝖨 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝗋𝖼𝗁.” 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇.

𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗇𝗈𝖽. “𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖫𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗅𝗒. “𝖠 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗍, 𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖦𝗈 𝗈𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗐. 𝖶𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖫𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇.”

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The girl slowly left Judith's grave. She seemed sentimental about her. He however was not, he was not upset with what he had done all those years ago. The memories of his first kill filled his body with adrenaline as the thoughts of securing yet another as filled his mind.

The stalker paced behind the girl as she waltzed away from the graveyard. The house she entered was a small white house, unassuming amongst the rows of the others. Eyes fixed on the house as the girl creaked open, she entered.

Long strides led to the house's front porch. Listening carefully, an admonishing voice sounded. A mother to a daughter. Another person that he could kill.

He waited until the voices went out and silenced to enter the house. Opening the door, he took care to not make a sound. His presence was not to be yet known by its occupants.

Micheal took careful interest in the layout of the house. It was simple, easy to navigate. The kitchen lay not to far from himself. There he'd look for a weapon, preferably a sharp kitchen knife.

𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋. “𝖨’𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝖬𝗋𝗌. 𝖲𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆𝗅𝗒. “𝖲𝗎𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗂𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌. 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖡𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋.” 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗇𝗈𝖻. “𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖫𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾.” 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽, 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄.

𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗍𝗎𝖻. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖠𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖫𝗒𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖵𝖺𝗇 𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖪𝗅𝗈𝗄, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗒𝗆 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌.

“𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾,” 𝖫𝗒𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄,“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅. 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎.” 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾’𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝖿𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾.

The footsteps of the mother headed his way. Silently he stepped into another room, out of sight of the woman. He was going to kill her right there and then but then they stepped out of the house. interesting but none the less, the real victim was just up the stairs.

As the mother stepped outside the house, Myers made his way up the stairs towards the girl's bedroom. The bedroom door open just a crack, allowing him to peer through into the bedroom. No one was in there but the light in the bathroom was on.

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𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌, 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖩𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖬𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉. 𝖪𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. “𝖨…𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, “𝖻𝗎t 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾.”

The scent of disturbed and rotting earth filled his nose as he made his steady pursuit towards the cemetery. He simply had returned to unearth the grave of his late sister, Judith Myers.

The only reason he stopped dead in his tracks was the visitor that shadow the grave his sister laid to rest at. He lurked just behind an extravagant headstone, stalking the individual. The girl was alone, no one else in sight, the perfect target.

𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖩𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖬𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌’ 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍. “𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽.

“𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁.” 𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗒𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗒. “𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇. 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.” 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

𝖡𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒. “𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾! 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇?” 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋. “𝖨…𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝖬𝖺𝗆𝖺,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽. “𝖨 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝗋𝖼𝗁.” 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇.

𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗇𝗈𝖽. “𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖫𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗅𝗒. “𝖠 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗍, 𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖦𝗈 𝗈𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗐. 𝖶𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖫𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇.”

[Divider by here]

The girl slowly left Judith's grave. She seemed sentimental about her. He however was not, he was not upset with what he had done all those years ago. The memories of his first kill filled his body with adrenaline as the thoughts of securing yet another as filled his mind.

The stalker paced behind the girl as she waltzed away from the graveyard. The house she entered was a small white house, unassuming amongst the rows of the others. Eyes fixed on the house as the girl creaked open, she entered.

Long strides led to the house's front porch. Listening carefully, an admonishing voice sounded. A mother to a daughter. Another person that he could kill.

He waited until the voices went out and silenced to enter the house. Opening the door, he took care to not make a sound. His presence was not to be yet known by its occupants.

Micheal took careful interest in the layout of the house. It was simple, easy to navigate. The kitchen lay not to far from himself. There he'd look for a weapon, preferably a sharp kitchen knife.

Hey everyone, my tumblr is randomly blocking people and removing people as well. I have no idea what is happening! Im so sorry if I seemed to have just dropped everything and blocked you because I really didn't mean to!

Hey everyone, my tumblr is randomly blocking people and removing people as well. I have no idea what is happening! Im so sorry if I seemed to have just dropped everything and blocked you because I really didn't mean to!

A closed starter for @theshapeofthefog

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌, 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖩𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖬𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉. 𝖪𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. “𝖨…𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎,” 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, “𝖻𝗎t 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾.”

The scent of disturbed and rotting earth filled his nose as he made his steady pursuit towards the cemetery. He simply had returned to unearth the grave of his late sister, Judith Myers.

The only reason he stopped dead in his tracks was the visitor that shadow the grave his sister laid to rest at. He lurked just behind an extravagant headstone, stalking the individual. The girl was alone, no one else in sight, the perfect target.

"Uh, hello? Oh hi! My name is Susie Lavoie but my friends just call me Susie! Where to start? Well I am a legionnaire along with my best friends Julie, Joey, and Frank! Frank is our leader, Julie is my bestest best friend, and joey is super cool! come talk to me!"

About the blog and rules:

This blog contains mature content (blood, gore, mild NSFW)

RP and asks are open to everyone! don't hesitate to reach out via DMs to plot or discuss something

Susie is apart of the legion but this blog is Susie specific, you may inquire about other legion members but everything here is through Susie's eyes

Mod/Mun wishes to remain anonymous from this blog as this is a side blog.

Mod/Mun is 18+

please keep in mind that there is a real person behind the screen and that replies may be slow due to real life

Tags:

#so called life- ask responses

#Fallen angel- ask memes

#just like you- RP responses

#on my own- random IC thoughts or self-postings

#world so cold- reblogs/ other art

#ooc - out of character things

Current RPs

TBD

O, great god Amaterasu

. . .Bless us with your brush !

An Amaterasu roleplay blog of the Okami series. As Blessed by Angie, 18 +, Non mutuals - crossover & OC welcomed, own self interpretation based, Almost 11 years of roleplay exp.!

Rules ! Ask ! Mun !

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

I think I drew his legs too short, they're like two little beans =)))

Also another piece:

A door opens, creaking rather loudly, followed by the sound of the door creaking again, sounding only just slightly off.

Whoever was here was far too comfortable in Myers domain.

-🐏/

@xxxlostinthefogxxx

(Hope i’m not bothering you:)) )

The Entity caused his senses to be heightened in her realm. He could sense a presence within the replica of Haddenfield. Following the presence, the stalker silently found the presence. It whistled, not a very quiet one is it? It crunched the leaves beneath its feet carelessly. Following at a good pace behind, Myers stalked the individual. The bloody kitchen knife in one hand as he followed until it opened the door attempting silence, though it failed miserably.

The sound of his beloved Dani came from tje individual's mouth. His Ghostface, were the ones he truly cared for. He stared at the individual. It confused him that was all he could do.

He deduced that it was a prank that Dani put them up to. The ache to kill them still remained in the back of his mind like a dog slowly gnawing on a bone.

Of course, a nickname from Dani. He himself now used the nickname Dani had assigned him, Mikey. Though this one rambled on much like his Ghostface did, especially when Dani was fronting.

If Danny spared this one, there must have been a reason as to why. Danny didn't bother sparing survivors during trials without a reason. It was expected of Dani to allow one to all of the survivors live. He'd thrown whole trials just for the fun of it .

He was surprised Dr. Carter even allowed a conversation. He himself avoided doctors all together due to their nature of 'wanting to learn more about him' and keep him from his killings.

They mimic the grunt seemingly unintentionally and nod “Thank you, I appreciate it.” There’s a particularly loud Tic as they jerk their head into their shoulder, slightly wincing as they do so.