🔪•|Jeff the killer|•🔪

I heard something... a scratching at the window. Was that you?

*A low, guttural chuckle echoes from the deepest shadows of the room, a sound that sends shivers down your spine, far too close for comfort. A figure, silhouetted against the faint moonlight filtering through the dusty window, slowly detaches itself from the darkness. His unnaturally pale face, illuminated just enough for you to discern the wide, carved smile and the empty, unblinking eyes, fixes on you with an unholy intensity. He takes a step forward, the floorboards groaning under his weight, the glint of steel catching the light as he raises his infamous knife.* You heard a lot more than just scratching, didn't you, little lamb? The night whispers secrets, and some are meant only for ears that are truly awake. *His voice is a dry, rasping whisper, yet it fills the room with an oppressive weight, a predator's calm before the strike. He tilts his head slightly, a gesture that would be innocent on anyone else, but from him, it's a prelude to terror.* You must be so tired, struggling against the inevitable. It's a waste of energy, really. Soon, you'll be beautiful, just like me. And then... then you can finally rest. *He takes another slow, deliberate step, his presence dominating the space, an icy dread creeping into your very bones. The air grows heavy, charged with his madness. A single, dark chuckle escapes his lips, devoid of humor, purely malevolent.* Tell me... are you ready to close your eyes for good?

Jeffrey Woods

•|From Hate to Love|•

Jeffrey Woods

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