Star Fox Creepypasta time! This is part of a mini challenge project with my bestie! This is a collab on an already existing idea of this CP.
Communications dropped unexpectedly between Fox and Peppy as Peppy lectured Fox about how he and Falco should learn to get along more and use their heads instead of having the many frivolous arguments he had had to grow accustomed to. The static noise in his ears after a while lulled Fox to sleep as he sat in his Arwing, something that had been occurring more and more lately as he set idle inside for too long. A moment later he appeared to be standing above his Arwing as it hovered still where he had stopped it. Was he dreaming already? Looking down and around, the stars and ship faded away and he found his consciousness in a lightless void with only the sound of the static from his headset as the break in the silence. His heart began racing … he could feel something coming towards him. As if on cue, Fox felt a presence emerge somewhere behind him; he turned his head slowly, instinctively reaching for his weapon. Indeed there was someone there but the darkness had them silhouetted while they stood in the far off distance. It was so far off that the young pilot was somewhat surprised he could sense them at all … he turned the rest of his body around to face whoever was there nonetheless, still on his guard. Even though the figure showed no signs of movement, each time Fox blinked, they appeared to come closer.
Pretty soon the figure is close enough that Fox can identify it. “It … It can’t be … ” It was James, his father whom he thought he had lost at the hands of Andros and Pigma when he was but a child. “Dad … is it really you?!” A smile and tears of joy began welling up in his eyes as he broke into a run towards his father. James stretched out a hand to Fox, giving a small chuckle as he too became teary-eyed. As Fox comes closer to his father, James’ silhouette becomes less darkened, causing the boy to halt in his tracks. Something wasn’t right.
James continued to keep his hand offered out to him though, beckoning him with a smile. Fox took a step back, his entire body shaking with fear as he stared wide-eyed at the bloodied mangled body of his father a short distance in front of him, the entire left side of his body looking like it had been crushed and torn apart, looking at Fox with only one eye and a vacant socket. Even though he’d stopped moving towards his father … James continued to move closer with every blink of Fox’s eyes. This had to be a nightmare, he must have fallen asleep in his Arwing; why this though? Sure he’d had nightmares of his father before, but it was nothing compared to this.
Growing up, Peppy had always taught him that if he saw something that frightened him to simply close his eyes and count to 10 slowly, and that would make whatever was scaring the boy disappear … and so he did. Fox closed his eyes and began counting. “1 … 2 … 3 … 4 …” James seemed not to notice.
"I can’t believe it … it’s been 20 years … you are just as I remember…" Then silence. However Fox continued to count until he reached 10, sighing in relief after doing so. Slowly, he opened his eyes and screamed out in surprise and horror as his dead father stood just in front of him. Using the hand he offered earlier to him, James cupped Fox’s face while Fox tried to radio for Peppy Hare.
“P-Peppy? I…I did what you said! I … I c-counted to 10! …but… It’s still here … !!” James looks at him with his one eye that remained in tact, tears glistening in it as he looked at his son, half of his face smiling happily while the other was in-discernibly marred. “You still have your mother’s eyes…”
Fox’s screams made their way over the headset to Peppy, who had been desperately trying to get back in contact with him after their communications had failed. “Fox! FOX?!!?” Fox continued screaming. “WHAT’S GOIN’ ON FOX?!! SPEAK TO ME!!!" The screams stopped, only the sound of static filled the rabbit’s ears.
If someone were to die at the age of 63 after a lifelong battle with MS or Sickle Cell, we’d all say they were a “fighter” or an “inspiration.” But when someone dies after a lifelong battle with severe mental illness and drug addiction, we say it was a tragedy and tell everyone “don’t be like him, please seek help.” That’s bullshit. Robin Williams sought help his entire life. He saw a psychiatrist. He quit drinking. He went to rehab. He did this for decades. That’s HOW he made it to 63. For some people, 63 is a fucking miracle. I know several people who didn’t make it past 23 and I’d do anything to have 40 more years with them.
Visiting my friend and she told me I had to do this….don’t kill me Rose! D8
It was hard because I’m not used to working with strict palette choices, and I’m sure I didn’t completely go with the rules (I heard that lining wasn’t likely allowed) but I’m a newbie to these palette things. >.<