About: My Guardian   Sponge Permalink

An Entity of Type : dbkwik:resource/HXuofbsWrQdVsonCZPVpWg==, within Data Space : 134.155.108.49:8890 associated with source dataset(s)

I don't know why people think I'm insane. Maybe it's that I'm extremely antisocial, or that I've spent sections of time within the white walls of a mental institution. It might be the way I quicken my pace when I feel the lingering stare of those who don't truly know me. Of course it might very well be my guardian. I was free. They were gone for good, and I'd never had to put up with them ever again. Three weeks later they all had turned up dead with signs of violence and wounds that the police believed to have come from an animal.

AttributesValues
rdf:type
rdfs:label
  • My Guardian
rdfs:comment
  • I don't know why people think I'm insane. Maybe it's that I'm extremely antisocial, or that I've spent sections of time within the white walls of a mental institution. It might be the way I quicken my pace when I feel the lingering stare of those who don't truly know me. Of course it might very well be my guardian. I was free. They were gone for good, and I'd never had to put up with them ever again. Three weeks later they all had turned up dead with signs of violence and wounds that the police believed to have come from an animal.
Season
  • 12(xsd:integer)
dcterms:subject
Previous Episode
  • The Worthless Prohibition Sign!
Japanese Title
  • ぼくのまもりがみ
dbkwik:creepy-past...iPageUsesTemplate
dbkwik:doraemon/pr...iPageUsesTemplate
Release Date
  • 1990-03-09(xsd:date)
  • 2016-06-17(xsd:date)
dbkwik:creepypasta...iPageUsesTemplate
Episode Number
  • 785(xsd:integer)
  • 1070(xsd:integer)
Title
  • My Guardian
Rōmaji title
  • Boku no Mamorigami
abstract
  • I don't know why people think I'm insane. Maybe it's that I'm extremely antisocial, or that I've spent sections of time within the white walls of a mental institution. It might be the way I quicken my pace when I feel the lingering stare of those who don't truly know me. Of course it might very well be my guardian. Now, don't get me wrong, there's nothing angelic about him. He's not particularly good looking either, but he's always been watching me from a distance. I've had very few chances to speak with my protector, not that he answered or even gave the slightest indication of being able to hear me. That doesn't matter to me, and it never really has. Neither does the fact that I've never been able to see his face, nor does the sickening feeling when ever I even get the urge to imagine it. No, none of it matters to me and it never has. I probably should rewind. You see, ever since I was a young girl I've had extreme paranoia, particularly towards other people. My parents, in all their stupidity, kept telling me that there wasn't anything to worry about. That no bully, mean teacher, nor stranger would ever harm me so long as I was a good little girl. This was the biggest load of crap that anyone could have tried to cram down the throat of a child. Several shrinks, nightmares, and trantrums later I had my mother pulling out her hair on a daily basis. She'd soon find herself berating me for being afraid. This only deepened my fear of other people. I came to a point where I refused to leave my room, save to use the bathroom or shower. Hell, I didn't even dare open the windows out of my own childish belief that they'd crawl in to torment me. And it was then that I had an idea. A brilliant, glorious idea that only someone with no one else to turn to could think of. No, I didn't turn to murder, witchcraft, or anything of the sort. In the depths of my childlike mind I created an imaginary friend. My friend wasn't cute, cuddly, or even 'cool' like my idiot brother would come up with. I had dreamed up a man, lean and hunched over as if he had weights strapped to his back. He wore a stained trench coat and black slacks which draped over a fancy pair of oily looking shoes. Over his face would fall the edge of a wide brimmed hat, which was torn and frayed. Where any part of his skin or face might show there would simply be a fuzzy blackness that made it impossible to make out any features of him other than his torn, stained outfit. He was silent, always so deadly silent that he could often make me a little nervous. I didn't mind though. That was the beauty of the thing I dreamt up. My friend would always be beside me to listen, to understand, and I would never have to face my fears. Soon after I had begun to spend more time with him everything changed. Bullies left me alone, teachers would never scold me and my parents even refrained from shouting at me. I was relieved beyond words. I could finally be out and about and people would leave me alone. It was fantastic for the first week, me in my own giddy state. Where ever I would go my friend would follow. I began to notice the way people would stare at me. Their eyes would pierce into me like needles. It wasn't me hiding from them anymore. It was them hiding from me. Even my little brother who liked to follow me around and pester me about school or his video games would turn pale at the sight of me. In each and every one of them I saw in their eyes what they must have saw in mine. Pure, genuine fear, I didn't entirely mind at first. I ignored it and slowly within the period of a month or so they began to reaccept me. Things began to slowly shift back into the hell that was normal for me. Bullies, teachers, and all. The day that the schools resident punk had taken to wrestling my lunch money from my hands I noticed my creation began to become more distant. He'd linger behind me and stare back at those who stared at me. Not long after that he'd allow himself to wander in the direction of the bullies who made a daily effort to add on to my shrink's load. Two days later I found myself walking home with a bloodied nose and my hair jagged from being ripped at. I walked home sobbing and alone. My friend had left me, and my fears had more than reignited themselves. When I arrived I was greeted by a frantic mother and a father demanding names. The rest of the day seemed to be a blur of phone calls, threats, and screaming parents. The thunders, slams, and cursing causing me to slink back to my room and lock the door. Somehow I had managed to force myself into a dreamless, comforting state of sleep. I awoke to a new presence at the foot of my bed and a familiar presence. My dear friend was back. He sat with one blurred hand on my foot and the other buried in the pocket of his coat. And I knew he was smiling. I felt the pride and silent joy brimming off of him. In a vain attempt to mimic him I smiled broadly, sitting up and talking to him fondly. I don't remember much of the one sided conversation, in fact I don't even remember how long I spoke. What I do remember was the thundering at the front door. With childlike curiosity I crept downstairs just in time to overhear my parents speaking with a police officer. The bullies had gone missing. All of them, not one trace of them lingering anywhere that they had searched. I felt joy slowly build up inside of me. I was free. They were gone for good, and I'd never had to put up with them ever again. Three weeks later they all had turned up dead with signs of violence and wounds that the police believed to have come from an animal. This is just the first case though. My creation, my friends, my guardian has erased anything and anyone that I've ever felt was a threat. Sure, he doesn't talk a lot, but I love him so much. He can always tell what I'm feeling and he never gives away my secrets. He's going to erase someone for me at the moment, I can't wait to see what he'll do now. After all, killing people the same way twice must get boring. I bet he's having fun, taking out the miserable people who have nothing better to do than prey on the weak and bring fear to others. I hope you don't know who I am. And if you do, well, say 'hi' to my guardian for me. :)
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