Ashley the Conceptualizer pt trollpasta draft wip

This is just the lengthy first draft of the first chapter for this shitass Jeff the Killer parody. Posted for my delightful beta readers. Please look over this with a critical eye, but bear in mind the goal is to come off as a shitposty 2015 creepypasta fangirl not to write peak fiction.

"Gay son or thot daughter?"

"Coke or Pepsi?"

"Is Patrixxx or Evil Patrixxx stronger?"

Hypotheticals, though they may seem inconsequential, are an important corner of abstract thought. It keeps you sharp like the knife. "Butterfly knife, or switchblade?"

I stare into space on the way to the bus stop. It's a cold and misty, December morning; The sun was still very low in the sky.

"Would you rather walk through opaque fog, or pitch black darkness?" I thought to myself.

By the time the bus arrived, the sun was shining a little more. A few more students had gathered at the stop, but I didn't talk to them. I never did. It wasn't worth the time. 

All they ever did was stare at the weird, sick, girl.

The school bus was loud. It always was. I pulled my headphones on, pushing back my ashen locks. I was dead tired like always. The rings around my eyes never went away, I could never sleep long enough for that.

"Would you rather always be awake, or dream forever?" 

That's a rhetorical one, they're the same. I know that fact personally. When I start to drift off, I hear the switchblade click.

I feel... like the M.C Escher stairs. Not like I'm trying to traverse them, like the stairs themselves. Isn't it strange, to relate to a piece of architecture? If I was a building, who would I be? Probably something rickety. With withered posts and faded siding. Somewhere where the attic had holes, and the floors were ready to give way at any moment. 

I'm brought back to earth by a composition book flying inches from my head. A pencil flew out like secret weapon, scratching me across the face drawing blood. I yelped.

Even through all the chaos, they figured out which direction to stare in.

"What the fuck are you yelling for?!" A girl in a ponytail ironically yelled back.

"S-Something cut me!" I swiped a crimson bead off my cheek. "Who the hell is throwing books?" 

"Who cares?" Some jock shut down my questions.

Dumb fucking jocks. Do they ever think about anything? Are they even capable of asking if they did? These fucking dent heads are always hurting me. Which isn't to say they pay enough mind to target me, I'm always just collateral. Invisible. I wish they'd all drop dead. I wish I was alone.

When the bus finally arrived at school, I ran to the bathroom to check the cut on my face. It wasn't deep. Thankfully. The blood had already stopped. The rest of my face was worse for wear. Anemic pale, with thin eyebrows framing dull eyes. Reddish dark circles traced the edges of my eyelids as if my tears were rusting my eye sockets.

Maybe I'd be pretty if I lived a different life. If I was someone healthier who grew up in a cleaner house. If I was someone who didn't see nightmares in daylight.

The school day passed by as uneventfully as it could.

Lunch was disgusting. Plastic pizza with boiled mixed vegetables served alongside chocolate milk in it's twilight years. I choked it down as best as I could manage. Free lunch is free lunch. Much better than no lunch at all, especially when I'm going to have cereal for dinner again tonight. 

I tried to take a nap in Independent Studies. The scraping sounds grew closer and closer. They were like metal on concrete. Or maybe rust, or wrought iron? Something rough and dangerous. I couldn't see at all, it was like something was over my head, letting in tiny leaks of light. Red light like fire. I'm scared and the twisted feeling was coming back with the proximity of whatever was making that noise.

"Would I rather fight the exhaustion, or confront my nightmares?"

Another rhetorical. I can't make that choice. I run circles around my mind. If I chase my tail long enough, maybe I can keep the negative thoughts at bay. 

Eventually the school day was over. I survived the bus home, and was walking the last stretch when one of my bullies, Kaylee, intercepted me.

"Oh look Guys! I found Stick Bug!"

Two other girls rounded the corner after her. I was about to get jumped. Again. 

Before the first blow could land, my whole body lurched to the side dodging the punch. That was probably the most agile thing I had ever done in my life. Unfortunately, I didn't pay attention to what was next to me and hit a wall back first. I was heaving and struggling to cover my head while they swung and kicked at me. 

Kaylee was a human wall, and I'd be tempted to say she hadn't exercised since she was crawling, but I knew better because beating someone black and blue is actually pretty good cardio. She was also wearing a blue hoodie which made her look like the girl from Willy Wonka.

The other two girls were more normal, but normal was still a lot stronger than me.

All the torment was making my mind shatter into pieces. That "feeling" tore through me, worse than it had before, and I saw red. Then I saw black.

When I came to, they were running away. They didn't look injured, so I don't think I magically whooped their asses or anything. I probably just started tweaking out, and they didn't want to be around for whatever was wrong with me.

I finally dragged myself home, and was immediately greeted with an interrogation. 

"Where have you bee-" My mom froze when she saw me. "What the hell happened? Was it those girls again? And who the hell cut your face?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now." I evaded her and went straight to my room, burying myself under the covers. 

Even when I couldn't sleep, I still always felt better in my own bed. It was probably the cleanest place in the house, since I took extra care of my room.

The rest of the house had random bullshit stacked against the walls where mice would hide. I don't remember the last time Mom mopped. Thankfully my little brother was far past his eating things off the floor phase. 

His name way Ray, and he was only 8. 5 years younger than I was. 

He was still in school for another half hour, so I tried to take the time to recuperate before I went back out to walk him home from the bus stop. 

"should I read, or should I find a snack?"

"No, I don't want to go back downstairs until I have to. I'll read." I answered my own questions.

"Goosebumps, or Nancy Drew?"

"I'm too tired for anything complicated."

I was so, so tired... Suddenly, I can't see again.

Someone is whispering close to my ear, "Stay in dreams, Ashley." and caressing my mousey hair with something that sounded sharp between the tresses.

I jolt awake. 

What time was it? I throw the comforter off of me and grab my alarm clock. 40 minutes passed by. Ray is probably wondering where I am. If it weren't for the circumstances I'd be grateful for a 40 minute nap, but of course it had to be at the worst possible time. I pulled my boots on and rushed out the house.

I'm out of breath by the time I reach the elementary school bus stop. It wasn't as far as mine's was, but Keynes isn't the type of place where an 8 year old can walk home by himself. Especially not after Kevin disappeared on his way to the corner store. He was about my brother's age. It's been less than a week and they still haven't seen him at all. 

Luckily, Ray's still at the bus stop waiting for me, but he's leaning against a 94' Honda Civic talking to the driver with half his body through the window.

"RAY!" I shouted. "Get your ass over here!" My voice was still hoarse from earlier. 

He leapt back at the sound of my voice, and the car pulled off.

"Ray, who was that??"

"A neighbor." He answers a moment too fast. "What happened to your fac-"

"Don't worry about it," I cut him off. "Why are you talking to that person? You know better than to talk to random people!"

I took him by the hand and marched him home. 

My little brother wasn't very bright, even for an 8 year old, so he's not allowed to do anything outside without a chaperone. Even if we lived in a fancy neighborhood, he'd find a way to fall into a ditch or get hit by a parked car. With everything else going on right now, I don't need Ray going 'missing' too. 

It's bad enough that I'm going to get chewed out when we get home. 

...Or so I thought.

We crept in through the side door leading into the kitchen, expecting our mother to be in the living room watching the news. The house is nearly silent. There's no way the house could be this quiet if she was still home. Maybe she went to the store? I don't want to waste the silence, so I don't bother trying to get him to do his homework right away. 

I went back to my room. The window has a view directly into the backyard and further beyond to the woods nearby. It's not a forest. Just small trees and shrubs over an outcrop of what used to be a basement.

That's actually another reason why Ray can't go out by himself. During the summer he fell into it and managed to twist his ankle.

We didn't even know a house used to be there. It must've been a long time ago though, houses aren't allowed to be built that close to each other anymore due to zoning laws. I'm not sure how demolitions work, but I'm guessing they don't leave big pits in the ground when they're done, so it must have burned down, and then the lot was left abandoned. 

Sometimes I think about what it might have looked like and I always imagine a window directly across from me. Sometimes the person who lives there makes eye contact with me. I can't see it though. Their back is facing the light. I'm sure I look like a ghost staring out the window like this, but there's no one to see me from this side.

I step back when I hear clicking downstairs. It sounds little like the stove burner. Mom must have came home. She's going to ask a million questions, and I really don't feel like talking anymore today. I kick off my boots and lie face down on my gothic styled bed. 

Click. The burner wouldn't still be going. 

Click. Click. That's not mom downstairs.

I go downstairs to check, and its nothing at all. I guess I just imagined it. Ray is eating cereal in the living room, and Mom's not home yet. 

That strange feeling washes over me again. As if I walked into another world. My vision seems thin at the edges; not dark, but like what you see out of your right eye when your right eye is closed. Something out of sight crawls on my leg. I swat it away and run back upstairs. I slam the door behind me and stuff a blanket under the crack in the door. I hate bugs. I hate this house. 

I slide down with my back to the door, and my head in my hands. Then I hear the scraping again. This I know isn't coming from downstairs, it's from outside, across from me. The sound is faint but I still hear it.

Could someone be down there? Dragging a shovel? Burying someone? 

I look out the window and for a moment I think I see a man carrying something, and in an instant he's gone. I guess it was in my head. Humans don't move that fast.

"Is the fastest animal that ever lived faster than the fastest animal of today?"

Does it matter? None of them could outrun their environment. They'll all die anonymously, like any member of their species. 

Through the power of invention, man created vehicle, the only means of outrunning the life you were born into, and yet, that vehicle is made to traverse predetermined paths also made by man. We make the means, and we make the walls. 

Something catches my eye and makes me space back in. There's something shiny past the trees that wasn't there before. Is it smart to go chasing unknown objects? I guess it's not too stupid if it's in your own backyard.

I stuffed my feet into some crocs. I didn't feel like lacing my boots again before trekking through the house and into the backyard. Backyard was a vanity title. The strip of balding, shrubby driveway was only just thick enough to share parking with the neighbors, and creep a small one through the center.

Past the deep rooted outline of weeds I saw something metallic. It was... a saw. 

It was crude. It was roughly cut from some hardware store sheet metal; the handle was made of painter's tape wrapped around a peninsula of sheet metal. There was almost no rust, save for some crusting the rough edges. It looked like an internet artist anthropomorphized tetanus into a saw. 

This couldn't be a left over from the demolition. They don't sell shoddy shit like this in stores, and it'd be rusted completely if it was that old. And it has to be new, or Ray would've dug it up and cut himself already.

"Did somebody toss this here while we were still at school?"

I walk around the object, careful not to slip on some gravel and fall into the basement looming under cover. The grass was still green underneath it. Looking at it gave me the creeps... and a headache, which was probably just my anxiety.

It was weird, but ultimately it's just a saw. It was an object. So why is it so unnerving? That house, or what used to be a house, wasn't right. There was something wrong about that basement. I sped walked back to the house. I didn't want to be out there or anywhere near that saw anymore.

It was at that moment that my mother came home. She was at the post office. We reached the front door at pretty much the same time, and she already had that look like she was getting ready to chew me out. 

"I told you two to stay away from that property!"

"You said that to Ray, and he's inside!"

"Did he do his homework?"

"Idk, not yet probably."

She went in ahead of me to go convince Ray to do his homework. I stared at the plot for an extra second before entering myself. 

Now that you've read through...

• does the prose feel period accruate?
• are the sentences too clunky?
• is it easy to read?
• is it too long for a chapter?
• do the plot set ups make enough sense?

If you have other critiques / ideas, please tell me. :)

Smith Sisters Murdered Anonymously : retake

    Way back in 2007, there was a boy named Cody Smith who lived in Candor, Michigan. He was very fond of scary chainmail and pop-ups. Everyday he would find new ones and send them to everyone he knew. He even started writing some himself and sending them to strangers. He loved scaring people on the internet. He didn't have many friends.

    One day in November, he opened up his inbox inbox to find a message. It was from an address called 'smithsisters93@aol'. 

In the email, they claimed to be his older sisters. This confused Cody. As far as he knew, he was an only child. They also said that, years ago, they had lived in his house.

    He replied, saying that he didn't have any sisters, and told them to get lost and leave him alone.

    The next day, Cody received a chilling reply with photo attachments.

The first photo was of two girls. A photo of a polaroid. They looked about middle school age, and were likely twins. The two of them (the Smith sisters) were out at some outdoor event. Maybe a festival or a carnival. Both of them had dirty-blonde hair grown out just past their shoulders, and wore spaghetti strap camisole tops. The caption written on the polaroid said: "Smith Sisters Murdered Anonymously".

    In the email, the girls insisted that they were in fact his older sisters. They told him that they had lived in his house, and that his bedroom had once been their bedroom. They told him all about growing up, about their lives, and how happy they had been... until one horrible night.

    He opened the second attachment. It was a close up of a newspaper article.

    “In 2003, two sisters were brutally murdered in the small community of Candor, Michigan. Lisa and Sarah Smith, both age 13 were attacked in their parent's home on the night of November 17th, at around midnight. The Smith Sisters were sleeping in bed when an intruder broke into the home. No one heard them scream. In the morning, their parents found the dead bodies of the Smith Sisters hidden in the bedroom closet. The sisters been skinned alive. The killer was long gone and no trace of him could be found. They had been murdered anonymously. The police conducted an extensive investigation, but it was to no avail, the motives for the attack couldn't be discovered, and the attacker was never found. The only lead authorities had was a series of strange emails found on Lisa's computer. The case was closed in October of 2000.”

    The rest was a wall of rage. The smith sisters were angry that the case was closed, angry that people forgot about them, angry that even their own parents wanted to forget about them, and angry that their parents decided to start over and have a new baby. A son named Cody. Their little brother.

They hated that their parents never spoke about their daughters, or their untimely death to their new son.

    Now, even Cody could tell that something was wrong here.

    First off, the wording is unprofessional. "No one heard them scream"? "skinned alive"? Really? 

That's the shit you see in slasher movies, you can not publish that to the press. 

And what does "They had been murdered anonymously," even mean? Mystery attackers don't sign their work to begin with, and its not a phrase commonly used by the press or the police either.

    Secondly, "Smith Sisters" is capitalized like a band name. Or like a popular entity. 

    Third, They don't close unfinished cases. Unsolved murders go cold unless they're impossible to solve.

    Cody sent a heated reply. He didn't believe a word they wrote. He didn't believe the Smith sisters were related to him and he didn't believe the newspaper article was real. Cody punctuated the email with a sharp: "go to hell".

    Minutes later, he got another email. It read "If you don't believe us, look in the closet."

These were the final emails found on his computer.

    The next morning, Cody's mother came into his room to wake him up for school, only to find him missing, with a bloodstain taking his place on the bed. Panicked, she checked the first place she thought he could be hiding. He wasn't under his bed. Then, she checked the closet and found his dead body was curled up on the closet floor. He had been skinned alive.

    During the initial investigation, the police found a message carved into the baseboard. It read "Lisa and Sarah 1993". Next to that, was another carving. It read "Cody 2007". They had attempted to trace the sender of the emails, but were unable to do so. Neither could they uncover who registered the 'smithsisters93@aol' email address. They swabbed for evidence, and got nothing but Cody's blood and dust bunnies.

    After interviewing the parents (the only other people in the house at the suspected time of death), the police were able to set a few facts straight.

    The Smith family only ever had one child. Cody Smith. Birth records corroborate this.

    The names and dates scratched into the closet baseboard were not there before the night of Cody's murder.

    A Lisa and Sarah Smith have never lived nor died in Candor, Michigan. 

    There was no forensic evidence to confirm that the parents did it, even though they should have heard him screaming. However, it appears that there was nothing to hear. The neighbors hadn't heard anything either. Not a single sound.

    The Candor County Police Department did the best they could with what they had. A few long-shot suspects were interviewed, but nothing came of it. Profiling didn't help. The murder of Cody Smith remains a cold case mystery leaving the residents of Candor, Michigan in shock for years.

Carpentry Class

I’ve started an adult carpentry class and I’ve been getting pretty good at it! I promised myself I’d learn a new skill in the new year, and I’m feeling good, doing well, I’m making friends, life is great.

My main homie from the class is called Twitchy Steeve. He leaves and rejoins the class every 4 weeks.

This past while we’ve been making chairs. Steeve’s is a little wobbly, he doesn’t have as much practice. Mine is something really special. It pulls itself out for you. Don’t know how I did that, but we don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Now, the chair is still a little bare bones, as I’m still adding the finishing touches (fine sanding, deciding what color to stain it), but it’s incredibly comfortable. It’s like it was made for me.

I generously offered my boy Steeve to take it for a spin. He declined. Seemed pretty shaky when doing it, but we do call him Twitchy Steeve. That’s alright. No harm, no foul, more chair for me. Not like he would understand its refined appeal anyway, but it's fine!

I fixed myself a cup of coffee from the class coffee pot. (we up) I’m mid sip, feeling that caffeine touch my soul when I hear my beautiful chair drag on the polished concrete. I’m thinking Steeve changed his mind on my generous offer. However, when I turned, he was nowhere to be found…

Maybe I was doing too much. Maybe I scared him off again. Maybe Steeve only stepped out and I’m overthinking. 

Another day we all wanted to try a “one day build” so we all made our own tool caddies. My caddy was the nicest in the class. It's something really special. It takes you where you need to go.

My mans Twitchy Steeve is back again.

Nobody really gets why he keeps signing back up. I don’t understand why he keeps getting the first-timers discount, when he was here a few days ago. We all know it’s him, we see his face. I tried prying into why he left this time. He says he just moved into the area, but we all joke like old friends.

We’re all working on another project, when Steeve asks me for my pocket hole jig. I tell him to just grab it from my tool caddy. Steeve is slightly put off, so I grab it for him, and go back to working on my own shit. 

After measuring some things, I notice I don’t hear him drilling so I look towards where he should be and he’s gone again! Steeve is gone, and so is my jig!

3 days later, Steeve comes crawling back, and he doesn’t even have my jig with him. Claims he never had it.

I gave a lot of mercy to put up with Steeve’s odd antics, but now he owes me 20 bucks and he’s lying to me about it. What’s his fucking problem?!

scaryteacher.exe (free.99)

I used to be a huge Baldi's Basics fan as a kid when it first came out, and all the big youtubers were playing it. 

Well, I say I was a huge fan, but I never actually played it back then. Like many kids of the time, I was mostly just obsessed with watching people play it on YouTube, before I grew out of it lol. Apparently the full game came out ages ago, and I missed the drop being busy with school and all that.

Exam season just ended for me, and I decided to get back into it in the meantime. Just something to keep me from 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀ing out about whether I failed or not haha... 

Back at my dorm, I waited for my geriatric shitbox pc to warm up, so I can look up the game. I waited and waited while my computer made noises similar to when my grandad got pneumonia (rip grandad). My weed head roommate came home from his job before the computer even got to the log in screen so we started talking about fuck all. It was just when the convo started to turn towards my roommie claiming that I should try weed again and that I "haven't found the right strain" that the start-up chime blared from my stolen speaker. (If you can't tell, I'm broke). He quickly got shooed out of my side of the room so I can get to my main task of getting "back to basics" (haha). I typed " new baldi basics" into my search engine, then hit enter.

"10 DOLLARS?! That's 10 dollar's my broke ass could be eating with!"

"What the fuck are you yelling about?" My roommate asked from the other side of the room.

"This game I'm trying to play costs money. >:("

"My weedman sells pirated games on the side. He might have whatever you're looking for." 

Well, that's certainly weird. Do drug dealers commonly have side hustles? Shouldn't selling illicit substances should make enough money on it's own? Or at least selling weed would be the side hustle itself right? I brushed off all those dumb questions.

I asked my roommie to call up his weed dealer and ask him if he had the game, before I even went out to try and find him. When I finally got word that he did in fact have a copy of Baldi's on sale, I was told to meet him at the local Burger King.

boldtext.exe

I accidentally downloaded a virus onto my laptop, HELP!

All I wanted was to get those free smileys from the ad I saw watching anime, and now the text I write is randomly emboldened! The ad took me to a site called smilesfree4u.co. The whole webpage was full of those download buttons, all fitted together like a gallery wall. I wanted my smileys though, so I just hit one of them and the page redirected a few times. I caught one of the urls that flashed past me in the corner of my eye.

milfmania34.co.uk

I should have known my laptop was cooked...
During those redirects, a file downloaded to my desktop. Then the browser redirected back to what looked the og website, but had a slightly different url, smiles.4u.info. The download buttons were faded out like an ad vignette and there was big blue bolded impact font in size 120 pt font saying "Thank you for download". 

At this point I was a little nervous, but I shook it off. I wanted those smileys, and I've already come so far. 
I minimized my browser, Opera GX themed to look like Internet Explorer, and threw the newly downloaded zip file into a new folder. I figured it have be a bunch of image files that it pulls from when you sent a sticker online, so I put it away so it won't unzip all over my desktop. Now in the folder, I double-clicked smiles4u.zip, opening it in Win-RaR, and proceed to unzip it into the folder. There were only three files; smiley.vst, boldtext.exe and a readme. The first made sense, but what the hell is boldtext? I double-clicked the readme and read it.

   oo_  \\\    //wW  WwW  W   wWw  oo_         wWw    .-.  ()_()     wWw  wWw  .-.    wWw  wWw .--.  
  /  _)-((O)  (O)(O)(O(O)(O)  (O)_/  _)-<      (O)_ c(O_O)c(O o)     (O)  (O)c(O_O)c  (O)  (O)(O)(O) 
  \__ `. | \  / | (..)  ||    / __\__ `.       / __,'.---.`,|^_\     ( \  / ,'.---.`, / )  ( \| o /  
     `. |||\\//||  ||   | \  / (     `. |     / ( / /|_|_|\ |(_))     \ \/ / /|_|_|\ / /    \ |`-/   
     _| ||| \/ || _||_  |  `(  _)    _| |    (  _)| \_____/ |  /       \o /| \_____/ | \____/ |_/    
  ,-'   |||    ||(_/\_)(.-.__\ \_ ,-'   |    / /  '. `---' .)|\\      _/ / '. `---' .'. `--' ._      
 (_..--'(_/    \_)      `-'   \__(_..--'     )/     `-...-'(/  \)    (_.'    `-...-'   `-..-'(_)     

Thank you for downloaded our smileys!

In order to you to use them properly, please drag both files into the plugin folder of your browser of choice.

Both files are necessary to function. Keep them together.

After that, restart your browser.

               --FunnyMan

 
I don't know enough about computers to dispute anything said here, so I trusted him.
Both files, into opera, fully restarted. Then my laptop started making airplane noises and almost died. I thought it was over for me, for my laptop. All my files could have been kill. 
It took hours to revive my laptop and eventually it worked, but even before it booted up, I knew something was wrong.

All the text in the boot screen was randomly bolded. And when I went to log in, instead of my name, it said FunnyMan's pc. On my desktop, all the icons were replaced with fugly 3D smileys, and all the buttons and thumbnails from my browser were also replaced. The yellow demons stared back at me with gleeful malice.
My computer looked ridiculous, and with all the icons changed around, it was nearly unusable.

I was pissed. I remembered seeing a contact link on the first website, so I tried going back, but when I did. The domain was gone. I tried the other one and all that was left was this fucked up image.

Guys, how do I fix my laptop? Is it over for me??

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