Drapetomania | Creepypasta

22

??, ??, 2017

The moment Dark Link carried me towards the mansion's entrance, a mixture of emotions surged within me. Fear, relief, curiosity – they all battled for dominance as I clung to him.

The mansion's imposing façade loomed before us, a sprawling structure that seemed to swallow the surrounding forest. It was an eerie sight, standing tall and foreboding amidst the wilderness, its windows like watchful eyes. It was a place that had been hidden from the world, a place where secrets festered.

As we crossed the threshold, a dimly lit hallway greeted us. The air inside was stale and carried a distinct scent of old wood and dust. It was a stark contrast to the damp and claustrophobic cellar that had been my prison for so long.

Dark Link navigated the mansion's labyrinthine hallways with ease, his steps silent as if he were part of the shadows themselves. His white hair and pale skin blended seamlessly with the dim lighting, and his crimson eyes remained fixed ahead.

"Where are we going?" I finally managed to utter, my voice barely above a whisper. My vocal cords had grown rusty from disuse, and speaking felt like a foreign act.

He ignored me. The events of the past weeks had left me wary of trusting anyone, even someone who appeared to be my savior. The white hoodie Dark Link draped over me provided a small measure of comfort, shielding me from prying eyes.

As we moved deeper into the mansion, the air grew colder, and the silence seemed to intensify. It was as if the mansion itself held its breath, its ancient walls bearing witness to secrets I could only imagine.

Dark Link seemed content to maintain a veil of silence as we walked, as if he understood the need for me to collect my thoughts. My mind raced with questions, uncertainties, and fragments of memories from my time in the basement.

The basement—the word alone sent shivers down my spine. I couldn't help but wonder if the horrors I had left behind would follow me into this new, enigmatic world within the mansion.

Finally, we arrived at a grandiose wooden door adorned with intricate carvings. The door's imposing presence hinted at the significance of what lay beyond, leaving me to wonder what awaited me on the other side.

Dark Link pushed the door open with a silent grace, revealing a room unlike any I had seen in the mansion thus far. It was spacious, yet an eerie stillness permeated the air. Tall windows lined the walls, shrouding the room in a dim, silvery light that accentuated its otherworldly atmosphere.

At the far end of the room, seated behind a massive desk, was the figure known only as "the boss." He was a towering presence, his silhouette elongated and impossibly slender. His face was obscured by a featureless mask, and tendrils of inky darkness seemed to emanate from his form.

I trembled as I beheld him, the enigmatic embodiment of the urban legend known as Slenderman. My heart raced, and a thousand questions swirled in my mind, but I dared not utter a word.

Then, a voice, soft as a whisper yet resonating within my thoughts, filled my mind. "Welcome, Y/N," it said, bypassing vocal cords and ebbing into my consciousness like a distant echo. It was telepathy, a connection forged without words.

The boss's voice was both commanding and soothing, a paradox that unsettled me even more. "You've endured much during your time in the basement. I'm here to understand your experience, to help you heal."