Pitch black. That was what the town of South Park was at 3 am in the morning. The stars blotted out by dark, foreboding clouds. The moon almost showing a Cheshire like grin, but disappearing as quickly as the cat whose grin it bore. The trees bunched together, like they were also scared of the starless night and sought each other's comfort.
Just a typical night in South Park.
Another typical nightly routine was occurring in a household that reeked of coffee.
Tweek Tweak was quivering in bed, eyes peeking out to dart about his room. He was scared. As scared as he had been of the underpants gnomes as a kid.
How he wished for it to still be gnomes though. They were small, almost comical creatures. Well, in comparison to the terrors he fought now. The terrors he fought now stalked up to him, stared him in the face with their soulless eyes. Licked their fleshless lips, yearning for the blonde's blood.
Many tell Tweek he should have grown out of his fears and paranoia. Craig constantly told him so. This was mainly due to the noirette becoming grumpy though. Many restless nights would do this. Restless because it was he that the coffee drinking boy called.
No longer though. Tweek knew the damage he was doing his friend so chose to pretend to be better. In reality his nights became filled with so much more terror.
These monsters always tortured Tweek. They would crawl about the room, laughing as his coffee coloured eyes followed their every move. They would run up to Tweek, their breath creeping over his skin, emitting the smell of dead, rotting meat.
Tweek was too scared to breathe when this happened. On more than one occasion he had passed out, only to wake within minutes to those same dead eyes staring him in the face.
The creatures hands drag along his skin, leaving reddened, infected marks. Every one saw him. But no one believed how he said he got them. He was called a freak, a weirdo, on a daily basis.
Tweek was tortured both night and day.
But the night was worse. The night hid these gruesome animals. They longed for Tweek's blood, but they longed for his suffering more. One day their resolve would sna. Tweek knew this. One day his parents would only find his mangled remains. They'd probably care more about the mess than the life that had been lost.
Sometimes Tweek wished he could scream when these beast tormented him. he wished a blood curdling scream would be let loose from his mouth.
But these creatures somehow paralysed him. Made him live through this with eyes wide open, trapped in his own body, unable to run and hide.
Of course, it's very hard to hide from your imagination.
Plotless story is plotless/pointless.