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One More Headshot

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-Short Intro!- 

Hey there! I'm quite new to this but I thought I'd try writing a Haunted Gaming creepypasta and it'd be cool to share it around if you think it's any good! Feedback is appreciated and if you can tell me where improvement is needed, that is greatly appreciated! Thanks, and hope you enjoy!

-ONE MORE HEADSHOT-

Me and my friend, who I will call Jordan, were at a car boot sale, on a dull day, around the corner from our houses, and we thought if we'd see if we could pick up some games. Old or new, it mattered not to us, we just wanted something to play. The guy selling his things, we'll call him Christoph, was quite old and seemed a bit... shaken up, to say the least. He would talk to us when we crossed him on the street or when were at the supermarket, but we hadn't seen him for a year, until now. Everything was set up, labelled with video games, furniture, or clothes, which consisted of old Nintendo t-shirts, trainers, scarves and hats. We were browsing the games, from Xbox 360, PS3, N64, Gamecube, Playstation from 1-3, and Gameboy. I found Timesplitters 1 and 2 and just had to have them, as well as A Link to The Past, for the GBA. Jordan however, had found a weird Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 disc, that just had "COD MW2 360"written on with black marker.  So we consulted Christoph about it. "You sure you want to buy this, boy?", he said to Jordan, and he was sure he wanted it, "Okay then, everything works, and the game's not fake, just.... one of the first copies..." he said this with a cold shiver. Jordan was unsure, but bought it anyway. 

Ts3
Ts2

We went back to Jordan's house to play our games, but I'd save my Timesplitters games for later, and play the GBA while Jordan played Xbox. Jordan stuck disc into the Xbox, and it made an unsual whirr as it spun inside the console. The intro screen was a little unnerving, as I could spot faded skulls over the faces of the characters in the sequence, although Jordan didn't notice, his overwhelming addiction to CoD blinded him. He skipped through quickly to multiplayer, to check if it actually worked, and then to spend all of his days and nights playing it until the new game was released. A sharp and sudden shriek erupted from the speakers. It lasted but a second, but had startled us none the less. We thought it a sound glitch and Jordan proceeded to play. I put the Gameboy away and just watched him play instead, as he was quite good and I wanted to see him play. He licked his lips as he entered the first game, tearing through his enemies and chewing up the competition in every gamemode, and did so for hours.

A link to the past

It started to get late, but I texted my mom to tell her that I'd be home in an hour. Jordan had gotten to the highest level on his first prestige. He was going to try and complete all the gun challenges and unlock all the camouflages and attachments. On every gun. I thought he was crazy, but I knew he could do it. I was a noob, and I thought getting these camos were quite difficult. I wished him luck, said goodnight to his parents as they came in, and headed off home, for a night's sleep.

The next day came around, and at 1.30 I woke up and decided I'd come back around with my Gameboy. I didn't have a DS at the time, so I stuck with the Gameboy.  I found him, undisturbed, eyes glued to the screen, muttering "Two more headshots, two more headshots, two more headshots...". I asked him if he was okay and that I thought he should give the game a break. "No!" he shouted, with such ferocity, it scared me, "I've got two more headshots until I've done it! Cannot stop now!" he spoke quieter, but the violence remained. His parents called me out to talk about him. His parents had tried to get him off the game, late last night, and he lashed out at them, his mother, removing bandages, I hadn't noticed, around from her arm. There were deep, throbbing cuts, that had been made with just fingernails. They tried persuading him off the game earlier that morning, and he had ignored and refused any offer made to him. I knew now, that this was more than an addiction. I hadn't seen any other copy bug out or even do this to someone. The game-play was the same, but there was something else. I went home and got on my computer and thought I'd try looking around for what I just referred to as the "cursed copy". There had been reports of weird things happening because of cursed games, but nothing surrounding Modern Warfare 2. So, I did this for hours, until about 1 a.m and decided to quit for the night. Nothing could go wrong because of it.

I awake to news that the old man, Christoph, had shot himself. Out of the blue. I thought it just a coincidence. But it dwelled on my mind.. I'd pay my respects to him later, but I visited Jordan again, just to see if anything had changed. His parents were in the kitchen, I could hear their sobbing. I walked upstairs to his room to see him. I sat down beside him while he was still muttering "Two more headshots, two more headshots..." I asked him what he was at. He replied quickly, "AK-47. Shut up." I did so. I just stared at the screen, thinking nothing of tha game I had moderate interest in, but I felt a tug. That pulled at my mind. I was staring, even though I didn't want to. Suddenly I was falling into a swirling, black hole.. Falling. I jumped to my senses, and realized what the game was doing to him. It was pulling him in, and it wasn't letting him go easily. I tried shaking him, shouting at him, and then  just resorted to punching him in the face. He got up, pushed be back and kicked me in the stomach and threw me out into the hall, then locked the door and barricaded it. I assaulted the door, banging and slamming the door with my fists and kicking it, trying to snap him out of the deep trance. I gave up, and told his parents what was happening. They finally decided to call the police. I went home. Scared, and exhausted. I went to bed.

I awoke in a black room, tied to a chair under a dim light. I looked around quickly, and then tried to get my hands free. Then, I heard a light sobbing. And looked to the corner, seeing a figure, curled up. I saw, by the clothes, that it was Jordan. "Jordan..?", I whispered. He jolted up to look at me, eyes red. He scrambled up with swiftness, and lunged at me, with a chewed up fingernails, blood dripping from his mouth, and his t-shirt stained with the blood. He pushed the chair back and looked into my eyes. "ONE. MORE. HEADSHOT.", he grabbed my head, pushed the chair onto the floor, and let out a blood-curdling shriek.

I jolted up-straight, screaming. I stopped and looked around my bedroom. A nightmare, and quite a terrifying one at that. I checked the time. 2pm. F*ck. I quickly dressed myself and ran to Jordan's, to see if anything had changed. Police cars were stacked up outside, as I approached. An officer stepped out from the car and told me to back off, but I explained who I was, and he asked me to help, thinking I could "knock some sense into him". I had no idea what had happened, so I ran inside and up to his room. Blood smeared the walls leading into his room, as the door stood ajar, covered in it as well. I walked in to see Jordan, staring into a black screen, TV off, with his parents dead, throats cut open, and with numerous stab wounds, a bloody knife resting beside him. "One more headshot," he whispered, "One more headshot..." as he turned to me...



Written by Callathen
Content is available under {{#NewWindowLink:http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0%7CCC-BY-SA}}

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