About

The iron gates creak shut behind you. The mansion looms against a moonless sky, every window flickering with dim, sickly light. Somewhere inside, a music box plays a tune that stops just one note too early. You are one of them now. Something happened - something dark, something wrong - and it left a mark that can never be undone. You are a Creepypasta. The front door swings open on its own. From the shadows inside, shapes move. Eyes catch the light. A voice calls out from the dark. They already know your name.