Have you ever wondered, “what would it be like to be dead?” I’ll tell you. It’s not fun. My name is Seraphina Kightin, and this is the story of my death. Two years ago, I was murdered on November 21, 2015.
To me it felt like the best day of my life, but I didn’t know it would lead to my last breath. As it all began two months before, when I just began to start school. Like any other story you probably have read or knew, I was the new kid.
Which meant that I had new neighbors and friends. I made friends fairly quickly, but I still don’t remember why. I was a bitch. I had to admit. So it still haunts me that people liked me. It was surprising. But again, not everyone liked me.
I am the type of person that will be loved on one side, but completely rejected on another. And there was one person who… Well… Seemed a bit off. You can even ask my living friends. The thing about this girl is that, she was completely along. Literally. No one talked to her so she talked to no one. Which, sort of confused me, because you have to talk to someone at some point. Seriously!? What about group projects!? But no, once again, loner. Now, how I died. Was karma.
I shouldn’t have gone in her house and- wait, that’s right. You don’t know yet… Remember, what I said about her being a loner? Well it turns out, she was! I mean seriously! Her house was completely EMPTY! Like, what kind of person would even WANT to be this alone?! Well, except for one room. I presume it was her room. But something seemed off about it to me. And myself being a dumb, curious 14 year old I was, wandered in. And what I saw…. Was horrific. It still scars me to this day. Even when I’m in fucking heaven!
It was so bad, that she had to KILL ME because I saw this… this.. slaughterhouse! I had so many emotions about that, it was like I just….. paused. Paused in life because of the things I saw there. The bodies that were piled upon bodies upon bodies.
It was like a sanctuary for dead people. A holding house for the deceased. And too many things to point out how they died.
Ok, question for you, “Imagine that you are walking home from school, don’t want to do your homework because you’re a lazy fat ass, and you come across a creepy house that you think belongs to the loner at school.
Would you, a) Go explore the house and most likely be faced with the burden of death or b) Run the fuck away from that place before you fucking shit your pants?” I for one, thought option a) was better. The last thing I think I should point out to you, is how I died, AND the way they did. After I went in the room, to be an idiot and see what they look like, I SAW how she killed people.
It was not pretty. She basically smashes your head with a baseball bat, and while you’re still unconscious, she ties you to a table with old weary stains from blood on it, gets out all of her murder-machine tools for her to slice-o and dice-o you open, and then, she does it so slowly to make you suffer. And once you’re long gone, she removes all the bones in your body and weaves them together to make a quilt.
A. QUILT. But what I thought was most interesting, is that, she didn’t do any of that….. More like, she was the victim. And the real murderer… Was me…. Well, I guess that’s karma….
Credit: Mirai Nikki, Cupcakes (MLP Creepypasta)