Masky Hoodie Creepypasta Novels & Stories

said Kacey pointing to a small frame black and white poster hanging in the wall above the bed. There was a poster showing a human figure in a hood and a mask. That figure was hugging a four-stringed guitar. What was visible was only the two eyeballs. Those eyes stabbed me sharply. I was sure if that poster was taken from the same eNT! magazine that Kacey brought on the first day of college? "Okay," I replied. "Somebody wearing a mask." "I like him," confessed Kacey sheepishly. "He's so mysterious. As if I can feel his mystical aura."

"And I need some fucking water...just to cool down before I take you home and bury my face between those sweet thighs." Heat surged through me, and my cheeks burned at his words. He noticed, of course, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips. "Wait here, baby. I’ll grab a bottle of water," he nodded toward a small shop just a few feet away. I gave him a quick nod, and he was gone. I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my breathing, when something—or someone—caught my eye. A man in a black hoodie. It wasn’t the hoodie that unsettled me, but the mask covering the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. Those dark, piercing eyes felt like they were staring straight into my sou

And the first thing I saw was darkness. Not literal. The room was lit dimly, with torches mounted along the stone walls but there was a kind of darkness here that ran deeper than shadow. It crawled across my skin and made the back of my neck itch. This place is creepy as hell. I want out! Then I saw him. He stood at the far end of the room, behind an ancient table carved with symbols I didn’t recognize. He wore a long black robe, the hood drawn low over his face, a bone-white mask hiding his features.

~ LAIA ~ I take a turn toward the temple. That pricking feeling creeps in, that tells you something isn’t right. My skin tingles, the hairs on my arms rising. I don’t know what it is… but I ignore it and keep walking. I’m almost at the temple when men in black hooded cloaks surround me, four of them. My breath catches as I take in their masks. The same fucking masks Damon’s pack members wore the night we were taken at Redmoon Pack.

I sighed, my disappointment visible. Mason wasn't the face behind the mask, he was just a witch blessed with a gift of dream. He could see visions and memories that weren't his. That's how he knows about us being werewolves and about the Red ghoul. “Yeah, no shit. You just broke into my room and nearly killed me for nothing.” Mason shot back. “Don’t make me regret it,” I warned, my patience thinning. “Well, after I had those visions, I did some digging about the Red ghoul mask—and you won't believe what I found out.” Mason said, leaning forward, eager to share.

Someone stepped inside. I froze. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt, black and frayed at the sleeves. But what made bile rise in my throat wasn’t his clothes. It was his mask. He—she, whoever—wore a white Grim Reaper mask. There were hollow eyes that swallowed the light whole. That skull’s jaw frozen mid-sneer gave me the creeps of my life. And I was a thread close to passing out again. But then, my body didn't let me. Instead, my blood went cold enough to ache.

He smiles and replies, “Just call me Greg, and please do keep it a secret. ” He nods and says to him, “I understand, it seems you are a secret yourself. Why all the secrecy? You have not committed any crimes have you?” He doesn’t speak rather he nods and walks towards the room, this time, he doesn’t stop him. After the long sentences, he allows him to enter the room, he walks toward her slowly and he looks down at the sleeping beauty. He is about to remove his mask but he sees her stir in her sleep so he stops and walks closer to her. She opens her eyes and stares right at him, he looks down at her and says to her,

Before me stood a masked guy, a dark hoodie hovering over his head, the only part of his body that were vision was his forest green eyes. He was damn scary. I spun and it dawn on me that I was at an isolated spot. gosh I've heard about teen-wolves who parades in school premieres. "Ahhhhhh!!" I screamed out my lungs. The dude got astonished but what do I care? I continue screaming while the masked scary creature was trying to calm me down but I noticed he was trying hard not to touch me.

I should be in the netherworld, suffering for what I had done because of my greed. The door creaked open, and two figures walked into the room. A man dressed in a dark cloak, the hood hiding his face, stepped forward. Beside him walked a woman whose features were concealed behind a smooth, featureless mask. A breeze followed the man, carrying a scent—something familiar tugging at the edges of my scattered mind. Cedarwood, sharp and earthy, mingled with the smoky tang of leather. It stirred a memory I couldn’t place, making my pulse quicken.

A soft whimper escaped before I could stop it. The footsteps grew clearer. A lock clicked somewhere. My blood iced. Someone was coming. The door swung open with a dragging screech, and three figures entered. All hooded. All tall. The one in front stepped closer, their boots crunching on broken tiles. “Well,” a voice said, distorted through some kind of mask. “The little omega wakes.” A slow, crawling dread spread through me. The figure crouched so we were face-to-face. I could only see his mouth through the mask—a cruel line, amused and bored all at once.