Jeff the Killer's LegacyMrBettyKrueger and myself teamed up to bring Jeff the Killer to life. I'm a huge fan of his adaptation of Jeff and it was a pleasure working with him. In my opinion his portrayal of Jeff is a perfect representation of evil and truly the best interpretation of the character. Hope you enjoy the video and our take on Jeff the Killer!More Like This
I'm diting a new Ask Jeff and Jack as well as the Eyeless Jack SpookyNoodles episode! Will write some more creepy top 5 lists very soon too, let me know what topics you want me to cover in those
Hospice v.2Nothingness.More Like This
Absence of anything.
Whatever you call it, it's what I felt.
On my knees as my vision went from dark, to light, to dark again, then back. I saw sparks, and static, and darkness, and blurs, I was nearsighted and farsighted at the same time. I had no idea where my head was, or really, where I was. I felt intoxicated whilst feeling nothing but pure adrenaline. A burning in my stomach while feeling like I am going against blizzard winds. My head was spinning. Nausea. Cold sweat. My mussels ached and I couldnt move. My eyes frozen over, I could feel the space behind my eyes want to pour out tears, but I couldnt. My vision was getting darker. Six long black tentacles- or were they wings? They arched over me. Hypnotizing me deeper into my hell-like trance. They somehow got my attention to his face. The area where his eyes should be seemed to grow darker and darker, and my vision going red. He resembled Satan. I could feel my blood turn to tar and my lungs turn to steel
Hospice v.1I can't look back.More Like This
Not only the fact that it hurts to do so, it is also impossible.
He drained me. Right after he drained my family. Turning them into mindless zombies as I sat and watched them helplessly.
First my sister. Madison. She was my twin, but we never looked exactly alike. She was always reasonably shorter than me, with blonde straight hair. She was a poet. She wrote about everything. All the feelings we shared, and the ones she just couldn't explain. She told me the reason she wrote poetry was because it was the only way to tell stories without being interrupted. She studied people, and she had a tendency to watch peoples body language to figure out whats going on behind their eyes. Thats one thing we share. The last time I saw her, her arms were pulled into her chest and her knees and toes were slightly pointed inward.
She knew what she had done.
Her poems were understood by the wrong person and were used against her.
He was going drain her for putting her