Seven Days Creepypasta

By J.T. All Rights Reserved ©

Horror / Thriller

Log 5

Log 5

Friday, February 21st

So of course, there was nothing on my camera from Log Four. I mean, what did I expect? Every time these things showed up and were done for the day, everything would seem to reset, and no one would know but me (and that Sender freak). And while I know that I should have been pissed at the end result of that, I wasn’t. I was just happy to be alive.

Now going back to what happened after Log Four. I arrived home, discovered that somehow it was 6:00 pm. again, and that the footage of Bob was no longer present on my camera.

“REALLY?!” I shouted at the sky. I was still sitting in my car in utter disbelief at what had occurred, and well…Annoyed. I sighed, Okay so, back to square one. Go write down Log 4. I parked my car and headed inside. I went in to see my mother cleaning laundry. I hesitated for a moment, shaking my head. Huh, I’ve entered the gates of Hell, yet everyone else doesn’t realize it. My arrival didn’t go unnoticed. “How was the library, honey?” The question was sudden and caught me by surprise.

“Wuh?” I asked dumbly. I was thinking about just how alone I was in all of this, still. “How was the library?” She asked again.

“Oh, it was uh….” Fricking awful. I got to experience a horror story first hand and nearly had an overgrown, armless, naked, freak with a ridiculous name, eat me! “Great, it was great.” I said with a fake smile (well to tell you the truth, it was a sarcastic smile).

“Well, that’s good.” She nodded before resuming her work on the laundry.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at that last statement. What was happening was anything but “good”.

I entered my bedroom, locking the door. I leaned back against the door frame and took in a long breath. I may have gotten out of today’s predicament but what about tomorrow’s? I knew I needed to write down Log 4, but I wanted a few minutes of rest. Losing the footage from last night, dying twice, and seeing my family members mutilated was taking its toll. I know I can be a sarcastic S.O.B. but jeez this is starting to become a little more than what I can take.

With another long breath, I walked to my desk and logged onto my computer. I recorded everything that occurred with B.O.B. (which I have no doubt you’ve read by now). I chose to end it with me getting home, since well, that’s where I really felt like Log Four ended for me. By the time the ending came I felt much more coolheaded and relaxed than I had earlier. But of course, things always start going wrong just as everything seems to start going right.

I had just finished typing in the last few sentences of Log Four when the monitor beeped. A small indication on the taskbar of the screen told me a text box had been opened. That could only mean one thing.

“Great.” I muttered.

I really, (really, really, really, really) didn’t want to talk to The Sender. I didn’t need more news from a sadistic, self-centered, “Story Giver” about my next little visitor.

“You know what, screw him.” I muttered. I wasn’t going to talk to him today. It wouldn’t be like I’d actually get some solid answers from him. I closed the laptop. I could handle things from here on out.

For the next several hours, I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep.

Not with so many questions and horrors flowing through the depths of my mind. Images would pester my mind’s eye at all times.

I would turn and look to my right to see Jeff with his sadistic smile sitting in a nearby chair staring at me. A wicked knife in one hand, the other would rest in his lap. Blood would drip off its blade in a flat continuous rhythm.

And when I could no longer stand its dripping, I would turn and look to my left towards the window. Only to see a forest that should not exist. And within this forest would be a small clearing with a horrid, bloodied, redheaded girl skipping happily in a circle around a blood-tipped shovel and three fresh graves. I couldn’t hear her, but I had no doubt she was humming her favorite song, “Ring around the Rosy”. Tiny Teri.

And when I could no longer stand the sight of this, I would turn my gaze to look back up, only to see a dark figure with a blue mask leaning over me. Its eyes were empty, a black substance dribbled from its eye sockets. Eyeless Jack.

I would quickly clench my eyes shut only to see that tall, armless, deformed beast from the library growling at me. Its small dark beady eyes would stare into my soul; its sharp teeth would slowly form into a twisted snarl, and that low steady growl. Brutal Obscene Beast.

This continued on until finally my alarm clocked blared, telling me what I already knew and dreaded.

Day Five aka, Log Five.

What now? I asked myself. Should I go to school and try to play this out like a normal day? Or should I just stay here again?

I weighed both choices in my mind. They both seemed like good ideas, but I didn’t know what was coming next. If I went to school, would a beast like the day before come and try to ruin the day? If I stayed at home, would a freak like Jeff come kill me and my family again?

Perhaps I should-

“BEEP!” My head snapped to my computer. Oh, great. He wants to talk now.

I shook my head at it. I wasn’t going to answer that.

“BEEP!” The computer rang.

“No.” I said in a firm tone. “I’m not talking to you Sender.”


I sighed in exasperation, “Look, beep all you want. I’m not talking to you.”

“BEEP!” It answered back.

I sat up ticked, “Welp, that’s it!” I threw up my hands, “I know what I’m going to do now.”

I got up and got ready to leave for school. If The Sender was just going to keep pestering me for the day I’d rather sit in class listening to a boring lecture than that.

I put on some jeans and a black tee shirt before grabbing my backpack to head out.

The computer beeped one last time before I left. “BEEP!”

I looked at it and narrowed my eyes, “Later freak.”

On the drive to school, I began to think about how I would deal with the next visitor when he/she/it came. By now I had gotten the message. These things, once killed, don’t stay dead for long. But, I also knew that there was a chance to get out of each encounter alive, if not unscathed. The real trick was the how. How could I pull off an escape when the next visitor showed?

It would depend on the visitor I guess. But more importantly what’s the connection?

So far, I had encountered Jeff, Teri, Jack, and B.O.B. Why them instead of a freak like BEN or Smiley the Dog? Was it because they were classics?

No, I shook my head. It’s not because they’re classics. Tiny Teri wasn’t considered a classic in Creepypasta, so that couldn’t be right.

Does it have to do with each character’s personality? Jeff was a sadistic, deranged psychopath. Teri was a sadistic, vengeful, undead person. Jack was….was…well I didn’t know what Jack was at all. B.O.B. was a monster. Plain and simple.

None of those connect in anyway. So if it’s not personality. Then what is it?

I was approaching the campus by this time.

I let out a sigh. More questions and few answers.

For the rest of the school day I paid as much attention as I could to the teachers as a means to keep my mind off of that night’s visitor. When the last class ended, I still continued to sit in my desk. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to see more horror. I didn’t want to see death. I just wanted this to be over.

My refusal to leave must have gotten the teacher’s attention because it wasn’t long after that before my thoughts were interrupted by my professor’s voice.


I didn’t respond. I continued staring at my desk, lost in my thoughts.

“J.T.?” She asked again a little louder this time.

B.O.B., Jack, Teri, Jeff. B.O.B., Jack, Teri, Jeff. What is it about these four?

“J. T.?” She nearly yelled.

My head snapped up, “Huh? Wuh?”

My creative writing professor, Mrs. Hudok, stood over me. She was in her mid-thirties, had shoulder length light brown hair, had brown eyes, and wore dark pants with a dark gray striped shirt. Her face was a mixture of concern and confusion, no doubt because of my unresponsiveness.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

I looked at her, not knowing how to respond. “Uh…um…I...” I sighed. I slowly casted my gaze down and shook my head, “No.” I answered. “I’m not.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” I let out a low laugh, “Everything. Everything’s wrong.”
Mrs. Hudok quietly took a seat in the desk beside me. “Everything?” She asked.

“Yeah, Everything.”

“J.T. I need to know what you mean by that. Is there something happening at home or with you and your parents?”


“Then what is it? What’s wrong? You’ve been acting very strange for that past few days and you didn’t show up for class yesterday.”

When I didn’t respond she added, “J.T. if there’s something happening that’s affecting you personally, you can tell me.”

I looked at her skeptically and wondered, Could I? Could I really tell you what’s been happening? I doubt it. You wouldn’t even begin to understand what I’m going through. No one can.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hudok.” I got up to leave, “But I can’t tell you.”

I started walking towards the door.

“J.T. Wait.”

I stopped and turned my head to look back. “Yes?”

Mrs. Hudok was standing up now and looked very concerned. She knew there was something most definitely wrong with me.

“I know you don’t want to tell me what’s going on right now, but I can see it’s affecting you deeply. And it’s starting to show in your writing.”

“My writing?” My thoughts returned to the Logs I had written thus far.

“Yes, your past few assignments have been rather dark and unusual.”

Oh, my writing assignments. I had nearly forgotten about those. In fact, now that I thought about it, I didn’t remember doing them.

“Dark?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “How so?”

“One moment.” She returned to her desk and pulled a few papers out of a stack. She put her finger on one of the passages and began to read.

“A teenager roughly my age stood before me. He wore a white hoodie; a pair of blue jeans speckled with bloodstains, and was carrying a large bloodied knife in his right hand. Even more horrifying was his face. It was completely ash white, long black hair hung from beneath his hood, a smile too large for any normal person to ever make rested on his face, and those eyes. God, those eyes, were dark…”

I stared at her and began to gape. “How…Did?”

“J.T.? What’s wrong?”

HOW!? That’s not possible!

I stumbled back and leaned against the wall.

“J.T?!” Mrs. Hudok called out in surprise. “J.T. what is it? What’s wrong?”

I didn’t hear her. How did she get copies of the Logs? Why does she have them?


The Sender. That son of a ….WHY IS HE DOING THIS? Why send them to her? What’s he trying to say?

By this time my teacher had walked over to me and put her hand on my shoulder.

“J.T.?” She said to me once more.

I looked up at her and was breathing hard, “M-Mrs. Hudok?”

“Yes?” She said.

“How, exactly did you get those?”

She slightly cocked her head in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“How. Did. You. Get. Those?” I needed to know.

She didn’t know what to make of my reaction, but she answered anyway, “You turned them in through the college’s website. Like you always do for my assignments.”

“Online. Of course.” I started to nod my head in understanding. The Sender was way craftier than I thought and much more sadistic. I decide to stop talking to him; he decides to send me a message through my Creative Writing class to tell me that even in places where I think it’s safe he’s still around.

I looked at my teacher once more. She had a worried look etched on her face; she’d never seen me act like this. It was then that I decided to make a snap decision.
“Mrs. Hudok, do you really want to know what’s happening?”

She thought for a moment before hesitantly answering, “Yes.”

“Okay then, you’re going to need to sit for this.”

For next hour I told her everything.

I told her how I had always wanted to write my very own Creepypasta story that would go viral and how I could never think of a story for it. I told her about The Sender and his offer and the horrors that followed after I unknowingly agreed to it.

Now for the big question that I know is going through you, the reader’s, head:


Why did I tell her this?

Because, I was tired. I was tired of reliving a new horror every day; I was tired of being burdened with this insanity alone. I wanted someone else to know, even if it would only be for one day.

After I finished, my teacher was speechless. I could tell she didn’t know what to make of my story. She knew from the past few months of having me in her class that while I could be sarcastic and funny at times, I would never come up with something like this as a joke nor would I tell it with so much seriousness in my eyes.

Finally, she spoke, “Well, J.T. This is…This is a bit disturbing.”

Of course, she doesn’t believe me. No one with any form of rationality would EVER believe me, until they see it for themselves.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. And you know I would never come up with something like this as a joke. It really did happen.”

Mrs. Hudok opened her mouth to say something but I raised a hand to tell her to wait.

“And yes, I know you don’t believe me. You probably think I need to go see a doctor, but you can relax because by tomorrow you will have already forgotten this conversation while I’ll be typing it out on the computer.” I paused.

Mrs. Hudok looked at me curiously before asking, “If you knew I wouldn’t believe you and that, while I’m not saying this is true, I’ll forget about this whole ordeal tomorrow, why tell me?”

“Well, because I just need to tell someone and get this off my chest. And I think you could help me.”

Mrs. Hudok’s eyes widened at that comment.

“Oh, no! I don’t mean like help me out with the next freak, I’ve seen enough people besides me get killed. What I mean is that I need your help to figure something out.”

She slowly nodded her head, “Okay, assuming you’re not crazy, what is it you need help figuring out?”

She’s going to help? Thank God.

“I need to try and predict what’s coming next. I’ve been looking at the freaks that The Sender has sent me so far and I think there’s a connection. I just don’t know what.”

Mrs. Hudok quickly went back to her desk and pulled out the Logs I had so far.

“You’ve seen three so far, correct?”

“No, four. I’m assuming you don’t have yesterday’s since I just wrote it.”

I walked to her computer and looked up the Creepypasta page where I’d been writing the Logs.

“Here you go,” I told her.

After I caught her up on that, we laid out the names of the freaks.

Mrs. Hudok listed them off. “So we have the following: Jeff the Killer from day one, Tiny Teri from day two, Eyeless Jack from day three, and B.O.B from yesterday.”

I nodded my head, “Right.”

“And what do you know about them so far?”

I thought about it for a minute before answering, “Well, besides the fact that they’re well-known Creepypasta stories, I’m not sure. I thought it might be because they were classics, but I ruled that out once I realized that Tiny Teri isn’t considered a Creepypasta classic.”

I heard Mrs. Hudok mumble to herself, trying to piece things together. Her eyes suddenly brightened. She turned to me, “J.T. This “Sender” said that he was giving this story just for you, right?”

Hadn’t I just told her this? “Uh, yeah?” I said.

“So wouldn’t each monster be something that connects to you?”

What? I wasn’t getting her meaning. “Uh…wuh…What?”

She quickly pointed at the Logs and began to explain. “J.T. You said that on the first day all of this happened, this “Sender” decided to give you a story, one that was specifically designed just for your Creepypasta. So maybe each villain he’s giving isn’t connected to the next, but connected to you.”

I shook my head, “Again with the connected to me thing. What are you talking about? I don’t get what you’re saying.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, “J.T. Each monster was chosen because it means something to you, somehow.”

“Connected to me. Oh, hang on you mean like, The Sender chose these particular ones because of me and not because they’re just pretty good Creepypasta stories. Is that what you’re saying?”

She smiled and nodded her head. “Yes.”

“Alright,” I said with some understanding, “What’s the connection between me and them?”

Mrs. Hudok frowned at this, “I don’t know. The Sender does, but what it is I can’t say. The only way you could find out would be to see what the next monster is and then try to figure it out.”

I threw my hands up and paced in frustration, “Gggggrrrrreeeeaaatttt! That’s just what I need to hear.”

She gave me a sad look, “Well, I’m sorry J.T. but that’s all I can tell you. I’m not very familiar with Creepypasta; I’m just familiar with writing.”

She picked up the Logs and sifted through a few, “And judging by the style and curve of the story, the only thing I can tell is that these monsters are not chosen at random. They’re chosen for the protagonist, you. Assuming what you told me is true. I haven’t really decided yet.”

I sighed, and here I thought we were on to something.

I turned to her, “Well thank you anyway. You brought me a step closer to figuring this out.” I glanced at my watch, 5:40 p.m. Jeez.

“I better go ahead and leave. No need to keep tonight’s visitor waiting.”
Mrs. Hudok gave me a worrisome smile, “Well, I wish you good luck then. I’d like to hear what happens tomorrow.”

“Alright,” I nodded to her and collected my stuff. As I passed through the door I muttered, “But, you’re not going to hear.”


At 8:00 clock I was sitting straight up in bed holding my dad’s handgun. I’d been able to sneak it out of his closet earlier when I had arrived home from college. My plan for this visitor was simple:

Stay up till he/she/it showed, (all night if I had too).

Shoot the fricken thing,

And then get the Hell out of there.

But automatically there were a few flaws I didn’t take into account. Flaw one: I had gotten next to no sleep the night before, so I was extremely tired.

Flaw two: I didn’t know who the next visitor was. More specifically I didn’t know if the next visitor was an actual living creature or some paranormal, dimensional, weird-ass being that couldn’t be hurt by physical means.

(My only excuse for overlooking these flaws is this: Sleep Deprivation. I rest my case.)

By 8:30 it was completely dark outside and I was anxious. Thousands of questions were racing through my head.

What’s coming next? Will I be able to kill it? Will I be able to escape? Will it reveal the connection between these visitors?

My eyes kept darting from my digital clock to my bedroom door as I waited.

As the clock slowly counted down to the next day, my eyelids kept getting lower and lower till finally they closed.

It was 10:30 when I woke up. I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep until I opened my eyes. Uh? Oh. IDIOT! Don’t fall asleep!

I groggily sat up again and tried to stay awake.

Just keep your eyes open and watch that door. Wait, why are the lights off?

That’s when I heard the whispering.

At first it started with a low quiet chant. I couldn’t make out what it was saying. But if there was one thing it did, it got me awake.
I frantically scanned the room, trying to find anything unusual in the darkness.

The whispers grew louder.

“Hey! W-who’s there? Show yourself!” I called out in a fearful voice.

I gripped the pistol, trying my best not to shake as I did.

“I’m not afraid of you.” I said in a very low shaky voice.

“You are afraid.”

My blood went cold at those words.

Oh, Crap.

The whispers chanted even more, “You Are Afraid You Are Afraid You Are Afraid.”

Where the hell was it coming from?

“Where are you?!” I called out.

The whispering suddenly stopped, and everything went quiet. NOT GOOD.

Then one quiet whisper came from my left.


Oh, Lord, why did I have to ask?

My head slowly turn to see the owner of the voice.

A solid, pale, naked figure, with solid dark eyes and two rows of sharp teeth sat at the end of my bed grinning at me. Its body was deformed, and its fingers were talons.

“Here.” It said again to me, still grinning.

“HOLY-!” I said and quickly aimed the gun at the freak, The Rake.

I pulled the trigger, and kept firing round after round until all I could hear was, “Click, click, click”.

Finally, I lowered the pistol, only to freeze in fear. The Rake was no longer sitting at the edge of the bed. There were now several rounds in the wall but no body. I hadn’t hit the thing at all!

“Here.” The thing whispered in my right ear.

“AAHHH!!!” I jumped back to see that it had been sitting right beside me the whole time.

It was still grinning, and its dark hollow eyes were piercing my soul.

I fell off my bed and started scrambling away.


Perhaps to mock me, it crawled so fast that I didn’t even know how to respond once it was face to face with me.

“No.” It whispered. It raised its hand and plunged its talons into my side.

“AAHHHH!!!” I reeled in pain, but it wasn’t finished. It pulled its talons out and raked them across my face. My vision immediately turned red as blood began to pour.

Screaming, I instinctively placed both hands on the gashes.

I felt the weight on my chest suddenly vanish. I saw through cracks of my fingers the Rake sitting back on my bed grinning.

What little rational thought I had left screamed to me through the pain.

CRAP!! Dude, forget him, forget about your face, and GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!

Without argument, I obeyed. I clumsily scrambled back from my bed, before turning around to get up and flee.

I heard a sudden whooshing sound of something moving fast, there was a snarl, and then suddenly pain erupted from my back. I screamed but kept moving. I grabbed the door handle trying to open the door, but the Rake continued to tear at me. Blood flew as talons made contact to skin, followed by more pain.

I yanked opened the door and kicked at the Rake. It merely moved aside from the kick. It grinned once more then slashed up, slicing a huge gash across my chest. There was so much pain that I didn’t have the energy to scream. I fell back through the door frame, crying, bleeding, and suffering. I expected it to continue its onslaught, but it suddenly crept back from me cocking its head and grinning. It nodded its head up, and when I didn’t respond, it did it again.

My eyes widen in surprise when I realized what it meant. It’s giving me a chance to flee.

I needed no encouraging, through the pain I got back upon my knees and slowly crawled my way through the hallway, leaving a massive blood trail in my wake.

Have to get away, have to get away, have to get away.

I kept telling myself with each few feet I crawled. I never once looked back, in fear of what I might see of the Rake.

After what felt like several hours, even though I knew it must have been only a few minutes, I reached the back door.

I made it? I did not believe this. Nothing is ever this simple or easy. But I didn’t care; I grabbed the knob and pushed through into the sanctuary of the night.

“Afraid.” I heard the Rake whisper once more behind me.

“NO!” More pain erupted from my back as it plunged both its hands into it. I felt myself suddenly lifted. “Please, STOP!” I begged, even though I knew I would receive no such mercy.

It let out a hiss then I went sailing into the night air. It threw me down the steps of the porch and onto the driveway. I landed on my back coughing up blood. I could no longer see straight. I suddenly felt weight upon my chest. I weakly raised my head to see the Rake crawling onto me. It raised its right hand and slowly traced one of its talons across my neck. It grinned.

Here comes the end.

It raised a hand to deliver the end of Log Five.

I closed my eyes.


Nothing, I heard the Rake let out a low hiss before it slowly backed off my chest.

I opened my eyes to peek.

The Rake had crawled back away from me and was staring at something behind me.

“Wuh?” I gurgled.

I heard footsteps behind me. I tried to look but was too weak.

The footsteps stopped directly behind my head.

With what little strength I had left I turned over onto my chest and looked up to see who was there.

A pair of dark shoes greeted me. My eyes slowly lifted to see its owner. A figure wearing jeans, and a solid dark hoodie stood before me.

What? Who’s this? Jeff?

The figure knelt in front of me. I tried to make out the face but could only see the figure’s mouth; his eyes were covered by the darkness of the hood.

He was smirking.

“Help….me…” I gurgled through the blood.

His smirk grew larger. He leaned over to my ear. I have never heard a more sinister voice. It sounded so human, but then it did not. It was the voice of a young man, but I knew it belonged to that of a monster.

“Next time,” he whispered to me, “answer when I call for you.”

Darkness slowly began to cover my vision, but before it completely overtook me I whispered two words.

“The Sender.”

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