Kody Simmons had been my friend for the longest time. Ever since we were twelve years old, he always had an obsession with the horror genre. So when he discovered the website Creepypasta, Kody became addicted to writing stories. It all started when he first read the pasta 1999. He loved that story, so much that he even started a blog where you can submit fan art about Mr. Bear. The only thing is, Kody was the only one who submitted art to the blog.

One-thousand-seven-hundred-and-thirty-two sketches of Mr. Bear could be found on the page before it was deleted. Graphic images of the antagonist stabbing Boobie, children crying, and other macabre imagery disturbed me. His obsession grew even bigger when he became a fan of Normal Porn For Normal People. Kody went as far as to recreate the videos using a camera and posted them online. Again, like the Mr. Bear blog, the videos were removed; however, some people have them saved to their computers.

When I confronted Kody about his the obsession, he became enraged. His eyes were so psychotic as he yelled, "YOU DON'T KNOW ME, TOM!" He began to hyperventilate and added, "I WILL BE PASTA FAMOUS! YOU JUST WAIT AND SEE!!" I remember how he yelled at me to get out of his apartment. The words were sharp, manic, and beneath his tone was this sad desperation to escape reality.

See, he wasn't like me. Not trying to sound arrogant, but I always got the girls in high school. Kody, on the other hand, was always picked on and called a faggot. Hell, I remember times where I had to talk him out of suicide. Days went by and there were no updates on his Facebook, no texts, no calls. When I dialed his cell phone, it went straight to voicemail.

"This is Kody," he said, in a voice trying to be silly and spooky. "I'm not here because the Slenderman got me!!" Before the message beep came he let out a psychotic laughter.

"Kody," I said, trying to be calm. "It's Tom. Listen, it is Friday and your sister messaged me on Facebook. She says your job called and you haven't been going. Tara also says that she tried stopping by but you wouldn't answer your door. Calm on, dude! You're twenty-four years old, grow up and start living in the real world. It's just a fucking scary story blog." I paused for a moment, took a deep breath and added, "Sorry, I just -- I'm worried about you man. Don't be angry. I mean... shit. Just call me back."

Another week passed and I decided to check out Kody's blog. When entering the web address, there was, of course, drawings upon drawings of Jeff the Killer, the chicken man from Normal Porn for Normal People, evil Link from Ben Drowned, and so forth. The blog went on and on and the deeper I scrolled the more disturbed by his obsession I became. It was then I heard a notification on Facebook messenger. I clicked the tab and, to my surprise, it was Kody. He sent me a YouTube link with a text below it that read: I will be known for this.

When I opened up the YouTube page, I was shocked to see Kody staring back at me. Logically I knew he wasn't looking at me in real time, because the video had been published an hour ago. But the way he stared into the camera felt as if he was looking deep into my soul, and what scared me the most is that he had shaved his head and painted it red. His eyebrows were gone and behind him on the wall was a sign that read: This Is The BesT of ME.

He smiled psychotically and began to speak in a voice that didn't sound like the Kody I had grown up with. Instead, he sounded like his mind had gone off too far in space. He said, "Hello world. My name is Kody and I am making this video for everyone out there." My friend paused for a moment and continued, "I recently submitted a 500 page story to Creepypasta, you know, the one about the killer who takes people's eyes."

500?! I thought loudly to myself. I picked up my phone to call Kody, but what he said next made me freeze.

"However," he growled. "The cunt-fuck-whores who run the site deleted my story because of grammatical issues and inconsistent story-telling." Kody suddenly became enraged and yelled, "Do you know how fucking long I worked on that story? Do you?! How dare you delete my art. It was perfect!!" He began to sob loudly and, in a tone that almost didn't sound human, screamed, "WHO the FUCK do you think you ARE?!" In a mocking, girlish voice he added, "Oh! I'm the admin and I think I'm God and I think I run shit. Well, guess what? You're not God! I AM GOD!!!"

Holy shit, I thought.

Kody's face morphed into a sad, red-clown and he whimpered, "I-I-I worked so hard on my s-s-story. I-I just wanted everyone t-to read it." Tears poured down his face like cliche waterfalls and snot dripped from his nostrils. He then concluded, "And now I have nothing left."

My friend pulled out a pistol, stuck it in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Blood, brains and teeth splattered against the sign on the wall. Followed by his abrupt suicide was the sound of his body hitting the floor.

Immediately I screamed. A loud siren went off in my head and I didn't know what to do. My first reaction was to chunk my laptop to the floor. The image of Kody eating a bullet made me vomit all over my shirt. But what came next was even more terrifying. A person -- or a thing -- wearing a red, long nose venetian mask stepped into the recording at the four minute mark.

They tilted their head to the side and waved into the camera. I stared in horror. What the fuck is this? my thoughts screamed. The masked figure reached over and turned off the recording.

After calling 911 and reporting Kody's video to the police, they immediately busted down the door to his apartment and began searching his home. What's odd is my friend's body could not be found, nor could the person who was seen wearing the mask. To make the situation even more weird, the front door and windows to Kody's home had all been locked from the inside.

The only thing investigators found at the scene was blood, the gun he had used to shoot himself, and an open Word document on his computer that read: Congratulations, Kody! You're officially a Creepypasta.

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