Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-12616520-20140410103624

Hey, so, my new pasta has got two people giving it a generous 6/10 (Maybe I'm too happy, but whatever). Pretty good I feel, but I want to know whether you guys think it is a good story or not. :D

THE PASTA:

Hello. I know that you will probably doubt this creepypasta of being real, doubting that it happened, doubting my every word. But I need to warn you. So please, listen to me, and do not take me for some fool who writes creepypastas for fun.

It all started when I was on holiday, back in England. My brother and I (who were both staying there at the time) were given a room in some hotel room we rented for the night. Whilst I was trying to get to sleep one night, I heard hysterical sobbing from the check-in. I tried to shrug it off, thinking it was a minor incident. My brother was sleeping away, oblivious to it, yet whenever I ignored it the sound grew louder. Eventually I sat up, and groped for my flashlight in the dark.

Getting it I flicked it on, surprised it still worked. As I reached the stairs I heard muffled but still somewhat audible voices. Listening closely, I heard something about someone who would save them, further proving that there were two people. Suddenly, there was a scream followed by silence, and I heard messed up laughing. What the hell? I reached the bottom and walked through the door into the lobby.

What I saw next scared the living shit out of me.

There was a child, aged around eleven to twelve, sitting down on a couch. Blood engulfed the couch, and when I looked at her face, it was bloody with no skin, just muscle topped with gaping eye holes. There was a disturbing figure kneeling next to her, who was twitching, maniacally laughing. The child saw me, looked up, and spoke:

“He is Rusty Fingers. He collects our faces, and saves us from the world. Someday we will go with him. He is our best friend.”

I turned to face the figure. “You stay the fuck away from her, and me!” I yelled, bracing for the figure to leap at me. But instead, its head started to rock like a bobble head as it rose up. It was around 8 feet tall, with long sharp fingers and nothing but empty eye sockets on its face and a wide mouth with terribly-treated teeth. It was covered in hairs and looked like it had wings, with claws on its feet and blood-stained horns. A crack was heard, and I screamed as its head starting to spin in circles, a crack heard every time it went upside down.

“You doubted me. I am your saviour, and I say you should be punished.” Said the figure with a voice like sandpaper. The girl nodded and climbed onto its back; it would be looking freakishly tender if they weren’t trying to kill me. What I wondered was why the hell no one had come out of their rooms to investigate. As if my mind was read, the figure answered my question:

“They have been saved just as you will be.”

I ran, as the figure chased me, gaining ground as it began laughing menacingly again with a smile. I ran up the stairs but fell on the top stair.

“SHIT!” I said, trying to get up, but Rusty Fingers was already behind me. He let the girl down, who went to the corner and sat, beginning to sob. He then faced me and pinned me down, a hand raised with the claws ready to tear up my face. Attempting to save my life I threw it off, and then grabbed it by the arm and threw it out the window. The girl screamed and jumped out after it, which was horrifying since she was so young.

After a minute or two of silence and checking it was dead, I continued up to my apartment. I unlocked the door and looked down at my brother on the bed. I screamed when I found his face had been torn up like the girl’s face. He sat up, looked at me, and choked:

“I have been saved.”  