Drapetomania | Creepypasta

14.

??, ??, 2017

Masky entered the dimly lit room, his white mask casting eerie shadows on the walls. He held something in his hand, something that sent a shiver down my spine. Chains. Thick, sturdy chains that clinked ominously as he approached me.

I watched him, my heart pounding, my mind racing with fear and curiosity. The chains were a stark contrast to the chair that had been my prison for so long. I couldn't help but wonder what this new development meant.

Masky's voice broke the silence, his words calm and measured. "Y/n! I have something for you."

He moved closer, chains in hand, and I instinctively backed away, my apprehension growing with each step he took. "What are you planning to do with those?" I asked, my voice trembling.

He paused, as if considering his words carefully. "I thought you might appreciate a change from the chair. These will allow you more mobility within this room."

His explanation did little to ease my unease. I had grown accustomed to the chair, as uncomfortable as it was. The chains represented a new level of uncertainty, a departure from the routine I had clung to for so long.

With a practiced efficiency, Masky secured the chains, one around one of my ankle, before attaching them to a sturdy anchor in the wall. My movements were now limited, but I could at least stand and move a few steps within the confines of the room.

As he stepped back to admire his work, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and trepidation. The chains offered a small semblance of freedom, yet they were a stark reminder that I was still very much a prisoner in this enigmatic world.

Masky's masked visage revealed nothing of his thoughts or intentions. He seemed to be observing my reaction, as if gauging how I would adapt to this new arrangement. The room felt different with the chains, and I couldn't shake the feeling that this change was significant, though I couldn't fathom its purpose.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said cryptically before exiting the room, leaving me alone with the chains and a multitude of unanswered questions.

I observed the chain around my ankle, tracing my fingers along its cold, unforgiving surface. It was securely fastened to the anchor in the wall, and my limited mobility was a constant reminder of my captivity. But in the strange world I now inhabited, the chains represented a strange form of freedom, allowing me to move about the room.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't resist inspecting the anchor. It seemed tightly secured, but I couldn't be entirely sure of its strength. It was an odd blend of emotions-gratitude for the newfound mobility and wariness of the unseen forces that had placed me in this situation.

Before I could dwell on it further, Masky returned, his entrance accompanied by the sound of objects tumbling down the cellar stairs. He descended after them, his mask concealing any hint of emotion. With a nonchalant request, he asked for my assistance.

I nodded, somewhat surprised by his willingness to involve me in whatever task lay ahead. I walked over and picked up the sizable bag he had thrown down. Despite its appearance, the bag was surprisingly light, which only added to the mystery of its contents.

I dragged the bag over to the chair where I had been confined moments before. Masky's enigmatic presence and the ever-present uncertainty of my situation had me on edge, but for the time being, cooperation seemed to be the path of least resistance. I awaited his next instructions, my mind racing with questions about what lay inside the bag and what new developments awaited me in this peculiar world.