"Friend Request Accepted" Creepypasta by RuckusQuantum

I had been on Facebook, the famous social networking site I, you, and your friends always used, for almost an entire day. Waiting for the notifications was really a big disappointment; the time and energy that I spent keeping up with my account from sunrise to sunset almost always led to nothing. I had been spending my entire night sending friend requests to random people Facebook would bring to me, and roughly eighty percent of them ignore me, but at least, twenty percent opened their hearts for me, at all.

Then all of the sudden, I heard a loud beep. I switched the tab to Facebook, and saw a thing I didn't expect.

"James Greenfield accepted your friend request." I read with a happy, overreacting tone.

One of those twenty percent was my cousin, whom I didn't know had an account on Facebook. As I expanded my notifications, the name of my cousin being seen there dumbfounded me. I knew him as a silent, anti-social, sleepy, and violent boy of his family, but now, he was exploring the new parts of his very small world he never, never, never, ever saw. Surprisingly, he already had many mutual friends, which I found incredibly ironic.

He even chatted me like we used to be when we talk personally. I always found talking with him awkward, as we both had distinct personalities. He was a generally anti-social person, while I was an extremely talkative feminine. But that time, we talked and shared our thoughts with each other like we were brothers and sisters. Still, the conversation remained awkward, but much more comfortable and pleasurable.

"Hello. I never thought you had an FB account." I chatted on him.

"Now, I have one. Surprised?" He chatted me back.

"Of course! Whenever I go to your house, I always see you sleeping. I'm surprised, I didn't know you know Facebook."

"Hehe, funny that I found you here."

My phone then rang aloud. It was my aunt calling me, seemingly for an important reason, because I already had eight missed calls from her. Quickly, I chatted James back right away.

"BRB. Your mom's calling me."

I answered the phone, and listened to my aunt's husky voice. As I kept on hearing those mysterious weeps and sobs from her, I already knew something bad happened. Her voice was weaker than normal, and the tone of her voice was sorrowful. She just spoke rapid nonsense on her phone, until I already interrupted her, and asked what happened. She didn't speak for full ten seconds, like she was trying to gain suspense.

She then spoke words that made me terrified and curious at the same time.

"Vanessa, something bad happened to James. He was just sleeping, and then no matter how hard I try to wake him up, he doesn't.

"He's dead. My son is dead."

Before I was able to calm her down and reply back, she just dropped the call, leaving me scared and speechless. I tried processing and organizing my thoughts, but my brain just messed it up again and again as soon as I cleaned it up. Everything about him having an account, about him chatting with me, about her mother calling me, and about her mother saying he was dead, it all didn't make any sense to me.

Then he just messaged me back.

"Looks like you're pretty worried. I'll go there and bring you to sleep, so you can comfort yourself down."

Then he logged out.

His house is just few blocks from mine, and it only takes five minutes of walk to reach me. What does he want? Does he have any plans? Where is he now? I think something bad is going to happen, and I fear the possibility of it really happening to me.

Now, I fear I will have the same fate as him. I don't like the thought of seeing him killing me in my dreams or whatsoever. I don't like thinking about his death. I don't like closing my eyes any time of the day. I don't like logging in to my Facebook account again. I don't like chatting with anyone. I don't like seeing him again. I don't like thinking about going to his funeral...

Why am I saying this? Even I haven't sleep for days and weeks, I still see him looking at my room's window, and I still hear him knocking at my door almost every minute of every hour of every day, so that means he's alive! I'm sure he's alive! And he will never, never, never, ever die.

He's alive...
{{By-user|RuckusQuantum}}