This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/muffinrecip on 2026-08-12 13:52:20+00:00.

---

I just got discharged from the hospital two hours ago.

I am sitting on the bed in my bedroom, with a brand-new pair of basketball shoes beside me. On sale, size 11.5, Nike. The left foot fits perfectly, but the right side requires me to stuff three layers of thick wool socks inside just to barely keep it from slipping off.

I am writing this not to seek sympathy, nor do I intend to ask you for the police's contact information. The case has probably already made the local news. If you’ve been following the state news over the past two months, you should have seen the headlines about the "Black Pine Woods Camping Massacre." All of my friends are dead.

Regardless of what the police reports say, I just want to tell what happened that night, from my perspective.

Before I talk about what happened that night, I must first explain to you what kind of person I actually am.

−

If you met me for the first time, you probably wouldn't think there was anything wrong with me.

I can walk, I can jog, and I can go up and down the stairs just like anyone else. If I don't actively tell people, no one would notice any difference between me and an ordinary person.

But ever since I was a child, I knew my body was worse than others in certain ways.

I couldn't do sports. Not "not good at it," but completely incapable. The word "clumsy" was stuck to me like a cutie mark, an innate trait. Just like my congenital amblyopia, it was something destined to never change.

I was never a picky eater, yet I remained skinny and weak, as if nutrients just slid right out of my stomach. Even when walking on flat ground, I would trip and bruise myself all over.

Elementary school PE class was practically a public execution for me. While other kids ran wild like horses across the playground, I always shrank into the shadows of the bleachers. I tried training myself, but every attempt ended in failure.

The comment all the teachers wrote on my report cards at the end of the term was always the exact same line: "Quiet, but very creative."

There was a fifty percent lie in that, and you can probably guess which half it was. Adults rarely tell a child directly that he is bad at fitting in with the group. They won't say you don't fit in, they won't say you are too timid, nor will they say you have nothing particularly outstanding about you. They will only say you are quiet, introverted, and add a line about being "very creative" that no one could actually see.

But I still had two friends, Jonathan and Anna. We were neighbors, and from the very first day I moved into this neighborhood, we hung out together. They never mocked me for always falling down or for my ridiculous bright-blue amblyopia glasses. Jonathan would fight off those who picked on me, and Anna would hand me a handkerchief to wipe the water spots off my glasses.

I thought we would be like this forever, until we entered high school, and everything changed.

Jonathan grew tall and strong remarkably fast, and Anna's facial structure began to mature; her face started radiating a unique charm that made anyone like her at first sight. She changed her name during the summer break of eighth grade because the name Anna "didn't match my face ".Her name is Ivy now.

Jonathan became the quarterback of the school football team, and Ivy was the cheerleading captain. They were naturally placed at the top of the school's food chain, becoming part of the popular cool kids, and subsequently started dating.

I thought they would naturally abandon me too. I was already prepared to go find fellow bottom-tier freaks to make friends with, but they didn't. Every time Jonathan ran into me in the hallway, he would shout my name loudly to greet me, and Ivy would smile at me and wave.

Jonathan and Ivy were the king and queen of this school. I was neither nobility nor a commoner, so I was excluded from the food chain altogether. I still only had the two of them as friends. I suppose I was probably just the jester keeping the king and queen entertained.

There were often rumors in school saying that Jonathan and Ivy only used me as a tool to run errands, or simply treated me as a little pet in their boring lives.

But I didn't care, really. They were just occasionally a bit too rough when fooling around. Even if they now doubled over in laughter whenever I fell, I was still grateful to them. In this cruel high school social circle, it was them who shielded me from the worst of the bottom-tier bullying.

If a friendship lasts for more than ten years, it becomes hard to define its decline through simple status gaps. We had been friends for ten years; they wouldn't abandon me.

Until that weekend, when Jonathan proposed that we all go camping together.

The temperature was very low that day, and the forest was filled with the smell of wet, decaying leaves. A total of nine people participated in the trip. Besides the three of us, there were three other football teammates and their girlfriends.

They set up tents at the campsite and lit a campfire. Jonathan brought several cases of beer, while Ivy was in charge of turning on the speakers. Everyone could only listen to her playlist, but it didn't matter; it was full of pop music, so everyone could hum along to a few lines. I sat on a rock a little distance away from the fire, responsible for handing out drinks to everyone.

Jonathan kept telling inside jokes from the football team, and everyone was laughing out loud. Even if I didn't understand them, I laughed along with them. I liked that atmosphere. No matter how terrible a person you were before, knowing that right now you were included in the group made you feel temporarily safe.

I thought I was lucky.

Then, an ridiculously tall man walked out from the shadows of the woods.

He wore a dirt-covered black apron and held a large machete. Over his face was a leather mask with crude stitching, featuring two small holes cut out for eyes.

That's right, his outfit was entirely a hodgepodge from low-budget 80s slasher films——so much so that when I first noticed him, I inappropriately thought of Jason Voorhees.

Mike, the teammate standing on the outermost side, didn't even have time to fight back before Jason swung the blade at his neck. He screamed frantically, trying to cover the wound with his hands, but it was in vain. Blood sprayed onto the tent canvas like a high-pressure water gun, making the sound of rain falling on an umbrella.

My brain was screaming at me to run, but my legs were heavy as iron. I saw Jonathan try to fight back, only to be kicked flying by Jason, slamming heavily against a tree trunk.

No one could fight back against him. He looked so strong, so invincible. He chopped through everyone like vegetables. There were bodies everywhere, along with severed limbs and bright red blood.

When I was finally able to move my feet and back away trembling, just like all the stupid side characters in horror movies, I was tripped by a tree branch.

I fell beside a tent, my glasses dropping to the ground. Through the gap in the tent zipper, I saw a terrified face staring at me. It was Ivy.

Her makeup was ruined by tears, or perhaps sweat. Her black eyeliner had smudged into a large blotch, looking somewhat absurd. She stared at me with pleading eyes, shaking her head at me, begging me not to expose her.

This was the first time Ivy had ever looked at me like that, so I dragged myself up from the ground with all my strength, shouting and screaming as I ran in the other direction, attempting to draw the killer's attention. But he ignored me completely, walking straight toward Ivy's tent.

He unzipped it and stepped inside. A brief scream echoed out——the voice was very raspy and didn't sound much like Ivy's. Then came the dull thud of a sharp weapon plunging into flesh, and a slender figure collapsed, the arc of spraying blood showing exceptionally clear under the firelight.

Now, I was the only one left.

I slumped onto the ground, my back drenched in cold sweat. He dropped the blood-stained blade and stopped in front of me, heavy, turbid breathing coming from behind the mask.

"Hey, hero. Stand up, let's play a game."

His voice was very hoarse, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other. I was shaking violently all over, using every ounce of strength just to prop myself up against a nearby wooden stake to stand steady.

"Stand on one foot for me. If you can hold it for ten seconds, I'll let you go."

The cadence of his voice arched upward in a bizarre way at the end, just like a little girl who had found a beloved toy.

"Three... two... one..."

He began to count. I took a deep breath and slowly raised my left foot. Although wobbly, I tried my best to stay balanced.

He watched my performance with great interest, then said, "Now switch to standing on your left foot."

No.

I have always felt that there are very strange things inside the human body. They don't affect your normal life, so you rarely notice them, eventually even forgetting they exist. Not until one day someone suddenly magnifies these hidden defects in your body, making them the key to deciding your life or death, do you realize how much you shouldn't have ignored them.

I couldn't stand using only my left foot.

My left leg was abnormally weak and frail. Aside from my parents, only Jonathan and Ivy knew about this. I didn't know if this killer acted on a whim or what, but clearly, I was going to die now because...

---

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1vmerql/all_my_friends_were_murdered_now_i_can_stand_on/