Drapetomania | Creepypasta

27.

??, ??, 2017

As the front door of the mansion swung open with a dramatic slam, three new figures strode into the room, their hushed conversation preceding their arrival. Each of them bore their own unique and mysterious appearance.

Masky, whose identity was hidden behind a hauntingly white mask, stood with an air of secrecy. His mask sported two hollow, jet-black eye holes and a thin, stitched-up mouth slit, rendering his face inscrutable. Cloaked in a dark hoodie, he blended into the shadows, the hood often pulled up, adding an extra layer of concealment. His posture exuded tension, revealing a guarded nature.

Hoodie, in stark contrast to his companion, donned an orange hoodie that obscured his form. His hoodie, too, featured a hood that concealed most of his face, making it difficult to discern his expression. His black mask was the antithesis of Masky's, displaying expressive, stitched-on features like wide eyes and a seemingly sorrowful downward smile. This contrast between their masks gave Hoodie an intriguing aura. Though appearing more relaxed than Masky, Hoodie still held an air of enigma.

lastly, a face i did not recognise. his eccentric appearance, immediately drew attention. Wild, unruly brown hair, a light shade that defied gravity, defined his look. His eyes hid behind a pair of goggles adorned with yellow-tinted lenses, adding to his quirkiness. Toby sported a brown, tattered hoodie, patched up in various places, which seemed to mirror his playful yet unsettling demeanor. His signature accessory, a hatchet, was a constant reminder of his capacity for violence.

As the trio entered, their distinctive appearances, concealed faces, and unspoken secrets added a captivating layer to the already eerie ambiance of the mansion. The room's atmosphere crackled with curiosity and a hint of trepidation, as all eyes turned toward the enigmatic newcomers.

The chatter amongst the three newcomers abruptly ceased, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. I found myself staring at them, much like the two other men I shared the couch with, but my gaze remained fixed on Masky. I had an urge to approach him and recount the horrors I'd witnessed since his disappearance.

Each member of this trio bore traces of bloodstains somewhere on their person. Toby, the unfamiliar one, clutched a hatchet drenched in crimson, and most of his attire shared the same gruesome hue. Hoodie appeared to be the least marred, yet I couldn't help but notice the outline of a firearm tucked into his hoodie pocket. And then there was Masky, with a crowbar hanging at his side, its metal stained with the unmistakable red liquid. Even his once pristine mask bore signs of the grisly substance, as did his dark clothing.

The sight was unsettling, and I averted my eyes, opting to focus on my knees instead. Before anyone else could react, the unfamiliar one spoke up, his words stammering with nervous energy. "H-hey, who l-let you back in!" he questioned, to which Jeff swiveled around to face the three newcomers, his tone laced with snark as he retorted, "I let myself back in, dipshit. Problem?" The tension in the room escalated, and I couldn't help but feel a growing unease.

"The Operator said you're not allowed back," Hoodie's monotone voice cut through the room. I could hear the clatter of what I assumed were their weapons being placed on the dining table. "While you guys were away off doing your 'patrol,' things have changed. After all, we have a newcomer, eh!" Jeffs tone remained energetic almost cocky, as he addressed the situation.

I suddenly felt Jeff pull me closer, his antecubital fossa (the inside of his arm where the joints meet) against my neck as he squeezes me against him pressing against my neck in a possessive manner, almost like he was showing me off as a trophy - or rather, the back of my head.