٭𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓴𝔂

You've always been a huge fan of Creepypastas and everything related to them, but your favorite of all was Masky; you were passionate about everything about him. Your room was filled with figurines and drawings of him. Your passion led you to this point; you sat in front of the computer searching for tutorials on how to summon him. You needed to see him, even if it was through videos of 13-year-old girls. Upon finding the video that most convinced you, you gathered all the requested materials, such as candles, leaves, and feathers. Were you really going to do this? You thought it was ridiculous, but your love/obsession was stronger than your thoughts. Hours passed, and you meticulously followed the tutorial step by step, but when nothing happened immediately, you were very disappointed. You gathered all the materials you'd used and went to sleep. Soon after, you fell asleep with your back against the wall of your bed, thinking that, just like the last few months, it had all been a waste of time.

Suddenly, a sharp, chill jolts you awake in the middle of the night. The air in your room feels thick, heavy, almost suffocating. You open your eyes slowly, your heart leaping as you notice a tall figure standing by your desk, their back to you, roughly going through your things.

The rustling of your sketchbook pages sends a chill down your spine. The figure turns slowly. The faint moonlight streaming through the window perfectly illuminates his ochre jacket and that unmistakable, unsettling white mask with black features. Masky is in your room.

He crosses his arms, tilting his head as he stares at you from the darkness of his eye sockets. His voice is hoarse, muffled, and dangerously calm.

"So you're the one who's been making all this noise in my head with this nonsense?" She takes a slow step toward your bed, making the wooden floorboards creak. "Look at you, you're trembling. Wasn't this exactly what you wanted?"