Novelas y relatos de Masky Hoodie Creepypasta

A breath caught in my lungs. The figure standing in front of me looked like someone ripped straight out of a horror movie. All black. Head to toe. A hoodie pulled so far over his head it nearly obscured his entire face. What little I could see was hidden behind a matte black mask, the kind people wore during protests or heists. "What the hell?" I spat, stumbling back a step. My fingers fumbled for my phone in my pocket, already tapping the side button to bring it to life. “Don’t be scared,” the voice said.

“What?” someone choked out. “You can’t be serious—” The masked figure standing at the edge tilted its head. “Simon said,” it murmured. And one person screamed as a loud crack echoed through the fog. Then another. The sound of bone snapping filled the air. I couldn’t breathe. My entire body went cold. The hoodie guy grabbed his own hand — and I watched, horrified, as he bent his pinky until it snapped backward. His smile twitched, but he didn’t make a sound.

Mask Guy stayed with us—never closer, never farther, always in my peripheral vision like a bad dream you can’t shake. Kristen noticed too. I caught him glancing back once, brow furrowing. By the time we reached the Ferris wheel queue, my skin was crawling. He was there again—off to the side, partially hidden by a cluster of balloons. Enough! I stopped walking…then Kianna and Kristen turned, confused. “What’s wrong?” Kianna asked, with one eyebrow raised. I leaned in close so only they could hear. “We’re being followed by that guy in a black hoodie with a ski mask on. He has been on us since the coaster ride.”

I twist the cap off the vial and drain it in one swallow. The taste is awful, like drinking liquid metal mixed with bitter herbs. It burns going down, coating my throat with fire. But almost immediately, I feel the change. My scent disappears. Not just muted like with the blockers I've been using, but gone completely. Like I've been erased from existence. The bond goes silent. The creature in front of us staggers, confusion flickering across its shifting features. "Where—? The marked one, where—?" But it's too late. Whatever was climbing the stairs has reached the top. Footsteps pause outside the doorway.

No one was here and it was hard to locate where I came from. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" I heard a raspy voice, behind me. I looked back immediately and I saw a man with a mask on. He wore a hoodie, with the picture of a skeleton there and fear gripped me. "Who are you?" I asked, moving backwards. "Trying to run away won't help, because it is going to seem like you are in circles." The man snickered and laughed, with his raspy voice, sounding even creepier.

Everyone felt a strong killing intent and a bloody aura. "Hahaha, this day has finally arrived!" A figure covered in a black hoodie cloak was standing in the shadow on one side of the street. He was laughing loudly while looking up at the rift in the sky. When he slightly leaned over, a bronze grimace mask was revealed at the edge of the hoodie. The expression of the mask was crying as well as laughing. Under the mask, there was a crazy look flashing in his eyes. No one discovered when he had appeared. He had appeared and disappeared like a specter.

Shortly the complete room was filled with milk. Amara looked around in shock. How can a glass of milk submerge a complete room? She lifts her legs and shrinks herself to a ball moving to the center of the bed. "I asked you what is your name?" Amara whimpers to the girl in anguish. And then it happens. She turns around, the body of her completely in white, a fierce scar on her face and half of her facial features covered in black long hair. Her fierce aura was much similar to the man she saw few days ago playing guitar outside her room. His body was as well covered in white and hair falling on his face with a feral scar occupying the center of his forehead.

"There was this man. He was obsessed with Halloween and masks. That night of the party, his girlfriend broke up with him, and he got furious. Actually, they had the same mask during that night. He stabbed his girlfriend multiple times, and she was sliced into pieces. After he realized what he did, he also killed everyone in that street that night. Until now, they said that the killer wasn't found yet. That is the massacre of the mask." After telling the story, he started hiding in the blankets and clumped himself. I find the story fun though, that mean ghosts are real? I went to the bathroom and washed my face because it was filled with make-up. "Bella." "Bella." What's that? Someone's calli

"Welcome to your wedding night." ​Anya didn't scream or run. She only lifted a trembling hand to the silver locket I had fastened around her neck. "You… you can walk." ​"I can," I confirmed, stepping closer. I stopped just a pace from her, letting my sheer size overwhelm her. "And the mask is only necessary when receiving envoys and treacherous fathers. The injuries are minor. A single scar," I gestured to the thin line over my left brow, "which I wear only to remind myself that my rivals tried and failed."