*wonk* Thanks, sweetheart, it’s beautiful.
Excuse me, but what the shit is this?
It’s creepy as fuck, to be honest with ya.
(OMFG I REALLY CAN’T. WHOEVER READS THIS, YOU’RE KOALA TEA.)
This is a picture of my best friend. Normal photo, right? Well, look closer in the back where the yellow circle is. Can you see the face?
This isn’t just some normal chain letter. My friend died 3 nights after this picture was taken, the police having no idea how he died considering he was 18 and perfectly healthy.
It turns out a boy died in that room a few years ago. He was murdered and then a few nights later he was found dead in his bedroom from his skull broken and slowly bleeding to death.
If you don’t reblog this within an hour, you’ll hear a soft whimper for 3 nights straight. On the 4th night, the boy will come from your closet while you’re sleeping and kill you for not helping us put his soul at rest.
This is not fake. 3 people have already died from not passing this on.
You weren’t dead. You simply passed out from eating too much. It wasn’t really a whole lot of food, but you’re not used to eating very much. You can’t even handle a full pancake. Moving on. You rise from your food-coma, face covered in dry spittle and rib sauce.
What will you do now?
You knocked on the cabin door. You hated inspection days. The day where you had to run around and be someone’s bitch, checking all the cabins to see if they’d kept the place clean. You honestly didn’t care and just wrote down a 4/5 most of the time. At least it looked like you were doing some work.
“Strider, open up.” You said in a clipped tone.
Throwing him in the lake isn’t very effective. He can swim, you know.
D —> Who is this reoccuring ‘Adios’ character on my dashboard
D —> And why do…
That was the point. And I thought that you didn’t want me to kill him.
But it was cold. And dark. And I was gonna lock him out of his cabin.