The dating game creepypasta

The girl’s movements were how one might imagine the movements of a living marionette puppet. It was actually pretty cool looking at the yearbook.

With restriction, but still a little bit of freedom. It was sort of like looking back into the past- which, I guess I was doing. I must have been pretty freaked out, because the school librarian was standing in front of me, saying my name in a way that suggested that she had been saying it for a while. “No thank you.” There was no way in hell that I was taking that thing home with me.

They were about this girl in the Hillside school uniform- white button up shirt, dark blue blazer, gray and black and blue plaid skirt, white knee socks, and a pair of Mary Janes- and pitch black pigtails. The right side of her face, however, was far from normal. A smile was cut into the right side of the girl’s face, starting from the corner of her mouth and going up her cheek, giving her a perpetual lopsided grin. The pupil, the iris, even the part that was supposed to be white. Where the girls at Hillside High School for Girls had long silky hair and girly jewelry, I had short, choppy hair and studded bracelets. I thought that it was weird that it was there, because I had been to that section millions of times, and I had never seen it before. After checking to make sure it wasn’t from any of the four years she had attended Hillside, the librarian handed it back to me with a smile.

There was blood on her shirt that looked as if someone had wiped it there with very bloody fingers. Her black bangs would always brush against the eyelashes of her right eye except for the few seconds after she would flip her hair . Turns out, the yearbook was from about thirty years before the school librarian had attended Hillside- making it from the 60s. With all my homework done and nothing better to do, I decided to look at the yearbook.

Sometimes I would try to imagine what her puppetmaster would look like, but I could never come up with anything. The uniforms were the same, but the hair and makeup were drastically different. “Livvy, your mom is here to pick you up,” she told me once she had gotten my attention. I didn’t say much on the way home, which wasn’t out of the ordinary.

But I think the thing about the girl that creeped me out the most was what she would say. About halfway through the yearbook, it was almost time for me to go home. There was no way in hell that the ghost of some girl named Julia, who attended this school in the 60s, was visiting me in my dreams, telling me not to play some game. “Oh, thanks,” I replied, shoving my belongings into my bookbag. Usually I’d read a book or do homework on the ride home.

Still, I’ll just call it Hillside High School for Girls. At the time, the only things I dreaded were Hillside’s dull and boring school uniforms, and the fact that I didn’t know anybody. I didn’t plan on fitting in with any of these girls.

The second dread was actually a bit of my own fault. I had a feeling that they were all going to be very boring. Anyways, it wasn’t long before I was known as an outsider and a freak.

After all , I was in town for most of the summer, but I spent all of that time cooped up in my room reading ghost stories and H. In fact, I had a feeling that the whole time we lived in Maine was going to be boring. About a week before the school year began, I started having these nightmares. After all, with all the horror I had been reading, I was sure to have a nightmare or two. Pale skin, with a few blemishes here and there, pink lips, and a beautiful blue eye with flecks of brown, green, orange, and even a little lavender. White as freshly fallen snow or fluffy summer clouds. So I spent most of my study halls and free periods at the school library. It was the only school yearbook in the whole library.

But I began to worry about myself when I was having the same nightmare every single night for a straight week. Her eye was surrounded by thick black eyeliner and eyelashes so full they might have been fake. There wasn’t a single blemish in sight and the skin looked as soft as feathers. When the first day of school came, I knew I wasn’t going to fit in. They loved hanging out with friends, I loved reading. It was wedged between two books on encounters with ghosts. When I asked the librarian about the yearbook, she said she didn’t even know that the yearbook was in the library.


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