I like it, Mourning Dove! The mental image of the drying-out eyeballs is making me wince.
Can I make a quick suggestion? It might work a little better if you don't say "disgustingly" or "unceremoniously." You don't need to tell the reader that something is disgusting--the story will convey that for them. In my admittedly limited experience, simple is better when you're trying to creep someone out.
Ask and you shall receive! Here's a snippet I wrote.
Jeff was in so much pain that he could barely stand to move. Again, why had he removed his eyelids with the kitchen shears? His eyes felt so dry that they burnt, and no amount of tearing up would make them feel okay again. His shriveling eyes felt like they would drop out of his sockets and fall unceremoniously to the ground. That may just be for the better. The dried blood from cutting away the eyelids obstructed his vision anyway.
And then there was his “smile” he had created for himself, so he would never have to fake one again if anyone asked him if he was okay. All Jeff could taste in his mouth was all the blood. He couldn’t stop drooling. The mixture of blood and drool either constantly dripped disgustingly from his gashed mouth, or he was forced to swallow it all. Jeff had been swallowing so much saliva and blood that his stomach was taunt and he felt like he was going to vomit.
The injuries that Jeff had inflicted upon himself was worse than any beating from those neighborhood bullies.
For some of us it is a guilty pleasure, one of those things you know is ridiculous and absurd but still enjoy them anyways. My guilty pleasure is the .exe genre, so freaking bad it is a riot. I like watching SomeOrdinaryGamer's let's plays of them.
I quite like this version. It makes Jeff more a a tragic figure, since his own anger and madness is what does him in. It reminds me of the quote "Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned."
I've been playing with the idea that Liu is actually Chinese due to being adopted, while the rest of Jeff's family is Caucasian. Plain old racism may be the reason why Liu gets picked on and Jeff has to defend him.
I'd like to see a story of Sonic.exe's protagonist going around telling people that he got a haunted video game and is now being stalked by a Sonic toy. It would be hilarious.
I read some of that Sonic.exe creepypasta before I had to go to work. Why does he keep on referencing other games such as Earthbound and Final Fantasy 3? Isn't this pasta supposed to be just about Sonic games? Goodbye story immersion and scariness...
I read some of that Sonic.exe creepypasta before I had to go to work. Why does he keep on referencing other games such as Earthbound and Final Fantasy 3? Isn't this pasta supposed to be just about Sonic games? Goodbye story immersion and scariness...
Its because he can't describe the mood himself, so he has to latch onto something that he can reference. Sadly, this is worse than even a half assed description since if someone who is not familiar with those titles reads it, they wont understand it. Its why "A twisted, bellowing laugh" is better than Kefkas laugh.
I believe a lot of people claimed that the Jeff the Killer picture was from David Lynch's Inland Empire but having seen the movie a few times, I can definitely say that it doesn't appear anywhere in that movie. The movie does have a lot of this:
Which is a hell of a lot scarier than GO TO SLEEP.
So I skimmed though the rest of the Sonic.exe story because I dislike myself enough. How is this story scary again? I admit that I'm biased against gamepastas and other creepypastas meant to "ruin" people's childhood memories of certain video games and TV shows. But glitchiness/bloodiness/blackness is not necessarily scary, to me at least.
I don't even know if I could rewrite Sonic.exe to even make it marginally better, like I did with some of the Jeff story. Then again, this story involves Sonic the hedgehog, so it has to be autistic in some regard.
So I skimmed though the rest of the Sonic.exe story because I dislike myself enough. How is this story scary again? I admit that I'm biased against gamepastas and other creepypastas meant to "ruin" people's childhood memories of certain video games and TV shows. But glitchiness/bloodiness/blackness is not necessarily scary, to me at least.
I don't even know if I could rewrite Sonic.exe to even make it marginally better, like I did with some of the Jeff story. Then again, this story involves Sonic the hedgehog, so it has to be autistic in some regard.
So I skimmed though the rest of the Sonic.exe story because I dislike myself enough. How is this story scary again? I admit that I'm biased against gamepastas and other creepypastas meant to "ruin" people's childhood memories of certain video games and TV shows. But glitchiness/bloodiness/blackness is not necessarily scary, to me at least.
I don't even know if I could rewrite Sonic.exe to even make it marginally better, like I did with some of the Jeff story. Then again, this story involves Sonic the hedgehog, so it has to be autistic in some regard.
I've played the actual game from it and it's something only an obsessive autistic sonic fan would find even the slightest bit disturbing. Honestly the only thing that even came close to scaring me was the part at the end where sonic flashes on screen and says "I AM GOD" and that's simply because I just wasn't expecting it.
My Jeff rewrite continues! This is actually kind of fun!
Jeff’s failed experiment of self-harm told him that the prescription painkillers from his doctor were no longer working. Jeff hurt so much that he figured he may as well make the world hurt with him. Those neighborhood bullies were especially going to pay. A weapon. Jeff needed a proper weapon. Jeff stumbled out of the bloodied bathroom, down the dark stairway, and back into the kitchen where he got those kitchen shears. The kitchen knives were the most dangerous objects in the house, but Jeff figured that they were the simplest weapon to use, even for a thirteen year-old boy such as himself.
Jeff was still shaking from the blood loss and pain from the “alterations” he had made on his face. Walking was already difficult in the dark, but the extreme blood loss almost made him too weak and jittery to even stand. He could barely see in the darkness, especially with his declining vision from his desiccating, blood-encrusted eyes. Nonetheless, Jeff felt around the dark kitchen, in the general area where the kitchen knives holder was. His hand encountered the biggest wooden handle, so he grabbed for it. However, because it was dark and the knife had no hilt, Jeff’s hand had hit the blade of the knife just sticking out of the holder, leaving a deep gash in the palm of his hand.
This new gash in Jeff’s hand turned out to be too much stimulation for Jeff’s strained body. His head pounded with the little blood that remained in his head. What he could see of the dark kitchen swayed around in a blur. As Jeff’s ears rang louder and louder, he could feel his body give in to the weakness. He crashed to the floor, and then there was nothingness.
The next morning Jeff’s family found his pale, blood-stained body crumpled on the kitchen floor. Have his recent traumas with the bullies caused Jeff to take his own life? After the initial crying from the shock, the mother hesitantly kneeled down to inspect her son’s body. She expected Jeff’s body to be as cold as a corpse. However, his body was hot to the touch, feverish. Raging infections had set into his self-inflicted wounds. The mother felt for Jeff’s pulse on his neck, and it was thready. Jeff was still alive, but barely. He needed to return to the hospital. Shaking, Jeff’s father reached for the telephone to call 911.
My Jeff rewrite continues! This is actually kind of fun!
Jeff’s failed experiment of self-harm told him that the prescription painkillers from his doctor were no longer working. Jeff hurt so much that he figured he may as well make the world hurt with him. Those neighborhood bullies were especially going to pay. A weapon. Jeff needed a proper weapon. Jeff stumbled out of the bloodied bathroom, down the dark stairway, and back into the kitchen where he got those kitchen shears. The kitchen knives were the most dangerous objects in the house, but Jeff figured that they were the simplest weapon to use, even for a thirteen year-old boy such as himself.
Jeff was still shaking from the blood loss and pain from the “alterations” he had made on his face. Walking was already difficult in the dark, but the extreme blood loss almost made him too weak and jittery to even stand. He could barely see in the darkness, especially with his declining vision from his desiccating, blood-encrusted eyes. Nonetheless, Jeff felt around the dark kitchen, in the general area where the kitchen knives holder was. His hand encountered the biggest wooden handle, so he grabbed for it. However, because it was dark and the knife had no hilt, Jeff’s hand had hit the blade of the knife just sticking out of the holder, leaving a deep gash in the palm of his hand.
This new gash in Jeff’s hand turned out to be too much stimulation for Jeff’s strained body. His head pounded with the little blood that remained in his head. What he could see of the dark kitchen swayed around in a blur. As Jeff’s ears rang louder and louder, he could feel his body give in to the weakness. He crashed to the floor, and then there was nothingness.
The next morning Jeff’s family found his pale, blood-stained body crumpled on the kitchen floor. Have his recent traumas with the bullies caused Jeff to take his own life? After the initial crying from the shock, the mother hesitantly kneeled down to inspect her son’s body. She expected her Jeff’s body to be as cold as a corpse. However, his body was hot to the touch, feverish. Raging infections had set into his self-inflicted wounds. The mother felt for Jeff’s pulse on his neck, and it was thready. Jeff was still alive, but barely. He needed to return to the hospital. Shaking, Jeff’s father reached for the telephone to call 911.
Eh, too dark and edgy for my tastes. I think it would be better if it was a straight up spoof of Jeff, with him doing his whole "dark and tortured soul" thing, and then getting hit with the "cutting off your eyelids is really fucking stupid" thing.
Like this shitty attempt that I just made up:
Jeff The Killer entered my bedroom, butchers knife gleaming in the faint light cast from the streetlight outside.
"YOU HAVE NNOOOO IDEAAA WHAT MY INNER PAIN OF MY SOALL IS LIKKKKEEE! NO IDEA!" he gasped at me in a voice that made every cell in my body scream "run you dumbfucker, run!".
But alas, I was transfixed by Jeff's eldritch horror and translucent skin. "MY SOUL HURTS, AND WHEN I'M DONE WITH YOU YOU SHALLLL KNOOWW BUT A FRRRACTION OFTGE PAIN I LIVE IN EVVVVERYY SE-".... "shit, hold on."
Jeff set the butcher's knife down on my dresser, took a bottle of eye drops out of his pocket, and turned his head back.
"hey, sorry, this'll just take a second." Jeff said as he irrigated his painfully dried eyes.
"yeah, that's better." Turning to me, he said "Now, MYLIFE IZ NOTHING BUT DESPAIR AND GOIFFICK DARKN-"
And that's as far as he got before I poked him in his left eye.
Jeff the Killer bent over in pain and let out a high pitched, girlish wail.
"Ooooowwww, that hurt!"
And that's how I caused Jeff the Killer to run out of my room bawling like a five year old.
Which, of course, means that he's about TO ENTER YOUR ROOM! OOGA BOOGA BOOGA!
Eh, too dark and edgy for my tastes. I think it would be better if it was a straight up spoof of Jeff, with him doing his whole "dark and tortured soul" thing, and then getting hit with the "cutting off your eyelids is really fucking stupid" thing.
Like this shitty attempt that I just made up:
Jeff The Killer entered my bedroom, butchers knife gleaming in the faint light cast from the streetlight outside.
"YOU HAVE NNOOOO IDEAAA WHAT MY INNER PAIN OF MY SOALL IS LIKKKKEEE! NO IDEA!" he gasped at me in a voice that made every cell in my body scream "run you dumbfucker, run!".
But alas, I was transfixed by Jeff's eldritch horror and translucent skin. "MY SOUL HURTS, AND WHEN I'M DONE WITH YOU YOU SHALLLL KNOOWW BUT A FRRRACTION OFTGE PAIN I LIVE IN EVVVVERYY SE-".... "shit, hold on."
Jeff set the butcher's knife down on my dresser, took a bottle of eye drops out of his pocket, and turned his head back.
"hey, sorry, this'll just take a second." Jeff said as he irrigated his painfully dried eyes.
"yeah, that's better." Turning to me, he said "Now, MYLIFE IZ NOTHING BUT DESPAIR AND GOIFFICK DARKN-"
And that's as far as he got before I poked him in his left eye.
Jeff the Killer bent over in pain and let out a high pitched, girlish wail.
"Ooooowwww, that hurt!"
And that's how I caused Jeff the Killer to run out of my room bawling like a five year old.
Which, of course, means that he's about TO ENTER YOUR ROOM! OOGA BOOGA BOOGA!
