The following story is about a famous creepypasta called "Jeff The Killer"
I had recently been hearing about something called "Jeff The Killer" everyone in school is talking about him. I've researched him, and found a whole set of spinoffs of Jeff. One kid at school said he saw him in his window. Another said that he saw him last night. I'm starting to be creeped out by him, thinking he's real.
Right now, I'm researching him to see if he's real, but noone knows for sure. As far as I know, he carved a smile into his face and burned out his eyelids, and he has a surreal backstory. He had the crap beat out of him, was bleached and burned, and horrible things like that. I'm seriously freaked out, I'm just gonna call my friend for a second I'll get back later.
I recently called my friend, he said that he's fake and he knows the guy who wrote the story, the strange thing is that I'm hearing strange groaning noises comming from outside. I'm gonna go see what it is, get back later.
I'm back but I couldn't see what was out there, but I could see a shadow moving swiftly across the grass, now I'm scared out of my mind. I have my metal bat in my hand- and I'm just waiting for something to burst through the door. I'm starting to see a face through the window, I'm trying not to look at it so I don't faint from fright. WHAT? I just heard something whisper "Go To Sleep"- now I'm getting SCARED.
The thing in the window just disapeared, I heard a loud bang coming from upstairs, there is no way I'm going up there. I'm starting to hear footsteps on the stairs, I'm gonna go get a phone incase I need to dial 911. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap. Someone's in the kitchen, I'm not writing this on my desk, I'm now hiding under the kitchen table, while writing this.
The thing is now right next to the table. I'm gonna stop typing this so IT doesn't hear me. The thing didn't hear me, and left, but he's still somewhere in the house. I'm now dialing 911, the phone lost connection. He sees me... oh cra-
Hello Hello everyone. My name is Jeff. I don't like that this story is being published, but oh well. It's not like any of you could catch a demon of my caliber. The detective is now dead. The journal is over. And it's quite hilarious, because, in viewing this document, I have logged every single one of your IP addresses and know exactly where you are. For example: One of you works at a Cousin's on Drexel boulevard, one of you lives in Burbank, one of you lives on East avenue, one of you goes to University and has a roommate named Becky, one of you is going to Iowa, one of you goes to is quite the whiz at the piano... The list goes on and on.
I know where you work. I know your friends. Your family. Your loved ones. I know everything. Soon, all of that will be taken from you. Upon reading this message from me, you should start hearing odd noises and feel a sense of fear and dysphoria wash over you. You will become anxious and frantic for no logical reason. The banging isn't the building you reside in. It's something else. Something quite sinister. Something that wants your blood. If I don't get you, I will get those you love and care about. You, the one shivering in your chair and has a girlfriend named Jessica with whom you live with... She's mine.
You aren't safe. Heh. Hahahaha. AHAHAHAHHH!!!!
I think it's time for you to go to sleep. :) I'll be in shortly.
Jeffrey the Killer.
P.S. Whomever is the one that's a junior at Kettle Moraine... You're cute. I'll take my time with you.
Credit goes to Snozberry