Information
Exists has a minion!
You the Dead Person
You the Dead Person
Exists
Legacy Name: Exists
The
Nightmare JollinOwner:
Age: 5 years, 11 months, 3 weeks
Born: April 26th, 2018
Adopted: 4 years, 4 weeks, 1 day ago
Adopted: March 20th, 2020
Statistics
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
There it is again - that same heavy breathing you’ve heard every night this last week, that sour smell that permeates your orifices, a mix of blood and death.
You clutch your blanket, willing your heart to stop beating so fast. Lightning crashes across the nighttime sky, flooding the room with small flashes of light as you tell yourself, “It isn’t real. It doesn’t exist.”
You feel your body go cold as the familiar whining begins from beneath your bed. You close your eyes as the whining begins to escalate, turning to low, guttural growls...
“MOM!” You desperately scream, diving beneath your covers in search of safety. Tears stream down your face, all soothing mantras forgotten, as you pray that your mother will stop this like she always does.
Click
Light bathes the room - you can see your room illuminated in a soft glow from beneath your makeshift fortress. As quickly as it appeared, the horrible stench and noises vanished without a trace.
“Another nightmare honey?” Your mom’s tired voice cracks as you peak your head out. Ever so patient, her kind voice floods you with a sense of relief and protection.
“Mom, it’s under my bed again...”
Her eyes look at you pleadingly, the stresses of weeklong double shifts at work visible on her face. “Remember the talk we had the other night? It doesn’t exist.” She says it so confidently. How can she be so sure?
You open your mouth to refute her but decide against it. After all, every other night has been peaceful with her intervention - perhaps it is a bad dream you aren’t remembering.
“Okay mom. Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“It’s okay. I love you kid.”
“I love you too.”
Click
Darkness fulls the room as you settle back comfortably into bed. The storm outside has calmed some, leaving a rhythmic chorus of rain. Your mom didn’t entirely convince you. It all feels too real. But... You are tired.
So tired.
Your eyes begin to grow heavy as your breathing slows. You feel warm. You begin to drift out of consciousness...
You smell it again. Death. Blood. The low whining.
It Exists...
And there’s nothing you nor your mother can do about it.
You clutch your blanket, willing your heart to stop beating so fast. Lightning crashes across the nighttime sky, flooding the room with small flashes of light as you tell yourself, “It isn’t real. It doesn’t exist.”
You feel your body go cold as the familiar whining begins from beneath your bed. You close your eyes as the whining begins to escalate, turning to low, guttural growls...
“MOM!” You desperately scream, diving beneath your covers in search of safety. Tears stream down your face, all soothing mantras forgotten, as you pray that your mother will stop this like she always does.
Click
Light bathes the room - you can see your room illuminated in a soft glow from beneath your makeshift fortress. As quickly as it appeared, the horrible stench and noises vanished without a trace.
“Another nightmare honey?” Your mom’s tired voice cracks as you peak your head out. Ever so patient, her kind voice floods you with a sense of relief and protection.
“Mom, it’s under my bed again...”
Her eyes look at you pleadingly, the stresses of weeklong double shifts at work visible on her face. “Remember the talk we had the other night? It doesn’t exist.” She says it so confidently. How can she be so sure?
You open your mouth to refute her but decide against it. After all, every other night has been peaceful with her intervention - perhaps it is a bad dream you aren’t remembering.
“Okay mom. Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“It’s okay. I love you kid.”
“I love you too.”
Click
Darkness fulls the room as you settle back comfortably into bed. The storm outside has calmed some, leaving a rhythmic chorus of rain. Your mom didn’t entirely convince you. It all feels too real. But... You are tired.
So tired.
Your eyes begin to grow heavy as your breathing slows. You feel warm. You begin to drift out of consciousness...
You smell it again. Death. Blood. The low whining.
It Exists...
And there’s nothing you nor your mother can do about it.
Pet Treasure
Murders 101