The Day I Died by D.C. Schaefer
(inspired by Creepy Pastas)
My name is Dante Shepard and my story doesn’t start when I was born. It actually starts the day I died. Now I’m not a zombie, a ghost or some other thing; I’m not quite sure what I am. A good place to start my story is that fateful day when I died. Let me explain. I was just a normal cop working in the town of Mana. We were working on catching a serial killer called ‘Jeff the Killer’. He had killed hundreds of people all over North America and was now in Mana cutting people up.
We knew he had black hair and was wearing a white hoodie with black dress pants but nothing else. We were having a hard time finding him until one day, we received a call. The caller said that a person who fit the description was in her house and we needed to hurry. Joe, Bob, Phil and I went to the caller’s house that night but none of us were prepared for what we’d find. When we entered, the smell of death clung to the air. We clenched our pistols and moved in. When we got to the living room we saw Jeff the Killer standing over the three bloodied bodies. He had long pitch-black hair, a white blood-covered hoodie and black dress pants.
He was holding a bloody kitchen knife, but what shocked us was his face. His face was pure white; his eyelids were burned off making two dark circles around his eyes. But, the creepiest thing about him was his smile. He had slashes coming from the edges of his mouth almost to his ears.
Joe yelled at him to drop the knife and put his hands behind his head. It lunged at him with the knife. I shot at him because whatever it was, it was not human. We all opened fire; I know we each fired at least two bullets at it but the bullets didn’t seem to even phase it. It stabbed Joe right in the chest and in a split second my eyes connected with its eyes. Its eyes were cold and emotionless. Those were the eyes of a cold-blooded psychopath and I knew I had to run. I ran as fast as I could. I looked back momentarily to see it finish off Joe and proceed to slaughter the others.
I quickly hid behind the couch in the other room and reloaded my pistol. I heard him walking closer. I leapt out from behind the couch and got off a couple of shots but he just shrugged them off and lunged at me. I dodged and kept moving but he persisted. I had to keep running. I was able to dodge one of Jeff’s swings and kicked him down a flight of stairs into the house’s cellar. I could have gone out to the car and radioed for back up but then Jeff might get away, and I couldn’t let him get away after all the people he had murdered. I held my pistol close and headed down the stairs.
I slowly walked down the stairs to try and find where Jeff was. He couldn’t have recovered from the fall so fast. I looked around the cold, damp decomposing cellar but no Jeff. Suddenly Jeff came up from behind and plunged his knife into my rib cage and tore the blade across my chest just missing my heart. “You put up a good fight but now it’s time for you to GO TO SLEEP!” He said in a deep heartless voice as he ripped the blade from my chest. As I fell to the ground I saw Jeff walk off and climb up the stairs.
I couldn’t let him get away. I forced myself off the cold ground, but my legs could barely hold my body up. I noticed a table in the room. On the table were a book and a phone. I stumbled over to the table clenching my chest, but as soon as I got close to the table I coughed a lung full of blood all over the table and fell to the ground. My vision began to blur and slowly my eyes started to close. Is this how I die? Just another victim of Jeff the Killer?
As I felt my life fading away and my body getting colder, I heard a cold voice chuckle and say in an almost lifeless voice: “You’re pretty lucky for a mere human. Looks like you get a second chance.” And then I woke up in the cellar with my gun in hand and with the book from the table on my chest. I immediately checked my chest to see if I was still bleeding but I wasn’t. I then looked at my pistol and saw that someone had burned a Pentagram into it. I thought I saw “You’re welcome” on the side of it, but it quickly faded away. I proceeded up the stairs and I could tell that Jeff had gotten away. I put my pistol in its holster, and I was about to leave the book on a table and leave but I got a burning urge to take it with me. I decided to take it as evidence and headed out to the car. I entered the car, put my seatbelt on, threw the book into the now vacant passenger seat, and turned the car on. I called headquarters and told them what happened. As I pulled out of the driveway, I could tell that something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t tell what.