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I’m sure I didn’t do it right but I tried. Story below:\n\nIt’s no surprise to anyone that people didn’t last long in the Victorian era, especially if those people just so happened to be unimportant street performers. Miserable peasants scraping together whatever earnings they could just to survive, only doomed to die when other peasants grew tired of their repetitive performances. Of course time has changed this, slowly replacing the numbers of performers with broken souls instead. But still some performers remain. \n\n\n\nParis was no exception, as I sat myself down on a bench close to the railway platform I took count of how many people were there with me, my bag clenched firmly to my abdomen with some anxiety. It was funny to me at the time, how even though you kept doing some things, having to do it again always scared you as if it were the first time all over again. Sitting alone at that station as a young woman was that thing for me. The obvious question would be why would you sit alone at a station you idiot? The answer: I didn’t have any friends and being an exchange student from America I also had no direct access to parents or family. Sure I loved the University I was attending but my ability to socially interact had always been shot. Most of the time it boiled down to talking too fast then without thinking saying something stupid.\n\n\n\nAs you can expect that led to a very reclusive nature on my part. Only speaking when necessary or if somebody approached me first. The people around me at the time were ironically no different, too busy staring at their own phones to interact with one another. But then I noticed a small crowd near the back end of the station, whispering amongst themselves as they brought out their phones to take the usual pictures and videos. Though, thanks to my American background, I just barely understood enough French to function and couldn’t figure out the entirety of what most of the people were saying. However I did understand one word, “mime”, uttered by a seemingly older man to what appeared to be his son. With a glance at the schedule on my phone one last time I decided I had time to silently check out what was going on. \n\n\n\nToo afraid of thievery I gathered my things and slowly approached the group, stalling once I reached the back of it. Nervous to move in closer I did my best to get a good view of the performance through the cracks in between the heads of the crowd. She moved slowly, thankfully, giving me ample time to take in her appearance and follow her movements. The first thing that stuck out were the typical features you’d find on a mime girl. Dark hair and dark eyes with incredibly light skin. But then I took a closer look at her skin, it was chalk white as expected, but so was her entire body. Not a patch of her untouched by white that I could detect. Then I trailed my gaze up to her eyes, they were dark alright, and also looked unnaturally large as a result. I would’ve written them off as contacts, but even blackout contacts have light reflect on them. Her attire was the most normal thing about her ironically. A pair of black Mary Jane’s, a pair of black stockings, a striped T-shirt and a black suspender skirt to finish it all off. Simple. But then I noticed the ribbons wrapped around her arms, neck and legs, that was an odd costume choice. But then again they didn’t behave as fabric, every time she moved the ribbon always stayed in place as if fixed to her skin. But it looked so hyper realistic. Was it a tattoo?\n\n\n\nAs I pondered this question the people in front of me started to depart and soon I found myself with two other people. The mime and what looked like a male construction worker. She approached me first but stopped just a few feet away from me, giving me a wave and a sign to wait. Feeling awkward I didn’t know what else to do other than oblige. Suddenly I felt something tight wrap around my waist and slowly my body jerked forward, toward the mime and her seemingly empty eyes. By the time she stopped pulling me forward our noses were touching and my eyes were lost in the pools of darkness that were hers. But I noticed something, an almost hypnotic pattern to the way her irises had been formed. Several rings that were more pigmented than the rest of her iris’ permeated her eyes. That brought a chill to my spine. With her sudden smile I could feel the tension on my waist release and I quickly scrambled back several steps. She, unbothered by my reaction, only held out her hands as if in a motion to receive change. With a secret fear she’d follow me home and murder me in my sleep if I didn’t comply, I gave her five euro and rushed back to my previous place to de-stress. \n\n\n\nOr that was the hope. Though I wasn’t in school for art, designing clothes was something I did like to do for fun, so I plugged in my earphones and began digging through my bag for the notebook I had been doodling in between classes. As I selected the perfect song to doodle to I took note of the time, fifteen minutes before arrival was due. Perfect. I allowed my imagination to take me away for the first ten minutes, drawing to what almost felt like the tune of the music. But that bliss was quickly shattered when I heard a very short yet shrill cry come from behind me. Though it was dulled, my stomach dropped, fearing for the performer regardless of my negative opinions on her costume choices. While I ripped the headphones out of my ears my head quickly whipped back only to see the strangest sight of my life. The construction worker, but he was mimicking the mime girl, zipping his lips closed. At first that relieved me, and apparently what seemed to be other worried onlookers who quickly went back to their phones. I, however, had grown too curious to not continue watching. But it seemed the more I looked the more the two stayed still. \n\n\n\nBummed I turned back to look at the railway, then promptly heard a dulled stomping sound behind me. Wanting badly to look back but also not to get caught I decided my phone would be of help in this case. Carefully I removed it from my bag and discreetly switched it to the forward facing camera, playing around with the placement of it until I could get a decent shot of the two. But the two were so far back they were blurry, which pushed me to use the zoom function. It killed some of the quality but I was starting to be able to make the two of them out. Then suddenly I froze, they were doing it again, mimicking each other with a wave. Almost in perfect sync. But his face looked devastating, it looked like he was either crying or in pain. She on the other hand just kept smiling, watching him with unblinking eyes. That’s when I noticed the tattoos on her body, they weren’t on her anymore. I closed my eyes and shook my head for a second, more than certain I was just having a stress filled hallucination from the long day of classes. But when I opened my eyes part of me immediately wished I had kept them closed. \n\n\n\nThe tattoos were wrapped on his body! From the way his muscles constricted and contracted it looked as if the ribbons were squeezing his appendages. Suddenly he swung to face the railway and I quickly turned off my phone, shoving it underneath my notebook with the hope nobody took notice. As my head fell back to the design I had been working on during the day I could hear the sound of his heavy footsteps on the platform move closer. That’s when my eyes squeezed shut, certain I was caught snooping by that mime and now she was sending some sort of punishment to atone for my sin. But then after a few moments the footsteps grew quieter again, passing me. I’m not ashamed to admit it took me a few seconds to sike myself up to open my eyes. That’s when I saw him standing right on the edge of the platform, tears spilling down his cheeks. \n\n\n\nI almost wanted to say something, but when I tried to open my mouth all I could hear was the horn of the oncoming train. Suddenly my eyes became wet with tears as he tipped over the edge of platform, meeting the oncoming train. Amongst the screams and cries of the crowd I only sat there, tears falling from my eyes as I stare at what remained of an innocent man. That’s when I felt a chill on my shoulder and looked up to see her pleasantly smiling at me with her empty eyes.\n", "description_bbcode_parsed": "I wanted to make my own anime girl/ creepy pasta oc. I’m sure I didn’t do it right but I tried. Story below:

It’s no surprise to anyone that people didn’t last long in the Victorian era, especially if those people just so happened to be unimportant street performers. Miserable peasants scraping together whatever earnings they could just to survive, only doomed to die when other peasants grew tired of their repetitive performances. Of course time has changed this, slowly replacing the numbers of performers with broken souls instead. But still some performers remain.



Paris was no exception, as I sat myself down on a bench close to the railway platform I took count of how many people were there with me, my bag clenched firmly to my abdomen with some anxiety. It was funny to me at the time, how even though you kept doing some things, having to do it again always scared you as if it were the first time all over again. Sitting alone at that station as a young woman was that thing for me. The obvious question would be why would you sit alone at a station you idiot? The answer: I didn’t have any friends and being an exchange student from America I also had no direct access to parents or family. Sure I loved the University I was attending but my ability to socially interact had always been shot. Most of the time it boiled down to talking too fast then without thinking saying something stupid.



As you can expect that led to a very reclusive nature on my part. Only speaking when necessary or if somebody approached me first. The people around me at the time were ironically no different, too busy staring at their own phones to interact with one another. But then I noticed a small crowd near the back end of the station, whispering amongst themselves as they brought out their phones to take the usual pictures and videos. Though, thanks to my American background, I just barely understood enough French to function and couldn’t figure out the entirety of what most of the people were saying. However I did understand one word, “mime”, uttered by a seemingly older man to what appeared to be his son. With a glance at the schedule on my phone one last time I decided I had time to silently check out what was going on.



Too afraid of thievery I gathered my things and slowly approached the group, stalling once I reached the back of it. Nervous to move in closer I did my best to get a good view of the performance through the cracks in between the heads of the crowd. She moved slowly, thankfully, giving me ample time to take in her appearance and follow her movements. The first thing that stuck out were the typical features you’d find on a mime girl. Dark hair and dark eyes with incredibly light skin. But then I took a closer look at her skin, it was chalk white as expected, but so was her entire body. Not a patch of her untouched by white that I could detect. Then I trailed my gaze up to her eyes, they were dark alright, and also looked unnaturally large as a result. I would’ve written them off as contacts, but even blackout contacts have light reflect on them. Her attire was the most normal thing about her ironically. A pair of black Mary Jane’s, a pair of black stockings, a striped T-shirt and a black suspender skirt to finish it all off. Simple. But then I noticed the ribbons wrapped around her arms, neck and legs, that was an odd costume choice. But then again they didn’t behave as fabric, every time she moved the ribbon always stayed in place as if fixed to her skin. But it looked so hyper realistic. Was it a tattoo?



As I pondered this question the people in front of me started to depart and soon I found myself with two other people. The mime and what looked like a male construction worker. She approached me first but stopped just a few feet away from me, giving me a wave and a sign to wait. Feeling awkward I didn’t know what else to do other than oblige. Suddenly I felt something tight wrap around my waist and slowly my body jerked forward, toward the mime and her seemingly empty eyes. By the time she stopped pulling me forward our noses were touching and my eyes were lost in the pools of darkness that were hers. But I noticed something, an almost hypnotic pattern to the way her irises had been formed. Several rings that were more pigmented than the rest of her iris’ permeated her eyes. That brought a chill to my spine. With her sudden smile I could feel the tension on my waist release and I quickly scrambled back several steps. She, unbothered by my reaction, only held out her hands as if in a motion to receive change. With a secret fear she’d follow me home and murder me in my sleep if I didn’t comply, I gave her five euro and rushed back to my previous place to de-stress.



Or that was the hope. Though I wasn’t in school for art, designing clothes was something I did like to do for fun, so I plugged in my earphones and began digging through my bag for the notebook I had been doodling in between classes. As I selected the perfect song to doodle to I took note of the time, fifteen minutes before arrival was due. Perfect. I allowed my imagination to take me away for the first ten minutes, drawing to what almost felt like the tune of the music. But that bliss was quickly shattered when I heard a very short yet shrill cry come from behind me. Though it was dulled, my stomach dropped, fearing for the performer regardless of my negative opinions on her costume choices. While I ripped the headphones out of my ears my head quickly whipped back only to see the strangest sight of my life. The construction worker, but he was mimicking the mime girl, zipping his lips closed. At first that relieved me, and apparently what seemed to be other worried onlookers who quickly went back to their phones. I, however, had grown too curious to not continue watching. But it seemed the more I looked the more the two stayed still.



Bummed I turned back to look at the railway, then promptly heard a dulled stomping sound behind me. Wanting badly to look back but also not to get caught I decided my phone would be of help in this case. Carefully I removed it from my bag and discreetly switched it to the forward facing camera, playing around with the placement of it until I could get a decent shot of the two. But the two were so far back they were blurry, which pushed me to use the zoom function. It killed some of the quality but I was starting to be able to make the two of them out. Then suddenly I froze, they were doing it again, mimicking each other with a wave. Almost in perfect sync. But his face looked devastating, it looked like he was either crying or in pain. She on the other hand just kept smiling, watching him with unblinking eyes. That’s when I noticed the tattoos on her body, they weren’t on her anymore. I closed my eyes and shook my head for a second, more than certain I was just having a stress filled hallucination from the long day of classes. But when I opened my eyes part of me immediately wished I had kept them closed.



The tattoos were wrapped on his body! From the way his muscles constricted and contracted it looked as if the ribbons were squeezing his appendages. Suddenly he swung to face the railway and I quickly turned off my phone, shoving it underneath my notebook with the hope nobody took notice. As my head fell back to the design I had been working on during the day I could hear the sound of his heavy footsteps on the platform move closer. That’s when my eyes squeezed shut, certain I was caught snooping by that mime and now she was sending some sort of punishment to atone for my sin. But then after a few moments the footsteps grew quieter again, passing me. I’m not ashamed to admit it took me a few seconds to sike myself up to open my eyes. That’s when I saw him standing right on the edge of the platform, tears spilling down his cheeks.



I almost wanted to say something, but when I tried to open my mouth all I could hear was the horn of the oncoming train. Suddenly my eyes became wet with tears as he tipped over the edge of platform, meeting the oncoming train. Amongst the screams and cries of the crowd I only sat there, tears falling from my eyes as I stare at what remained of an innocent man. That’s when I felt a chill on my shoulder and looked up to see her pleasantly smiling at me with her empty eyes.
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