Friday Scary Story, January 30, 2015

Blood.

I smell it.

My body is sticky with it.

It's dark.  I can't see anything.

I don't know where I am.  I don't know how I got here.

I'm afraid to move.   When I did, something else moved beside me.  I don't know what it is.

I'm so scared.  I can barely breath.  I make myself, so I don't faint.

What happened?  Where am I?  

There's so much fear in my body, my heart might stop.


Something moved again.  It's under me.


Oh God... What have I done?
Please God... make this stop.  I want to be home.  I want to be home in bed, waking up to go to work. I will never complain again.  God please, let me go home.

I remember...

I remember... I went out.  I met friends.  We went drinking.  Then... black.




I feel a face beside me.  My finger caught in its open mouth.  I felt teeth.

The smell is so strong.

I want to live.

Friday Scary Story, January 23, 2015

A child.

Innocent, but sometimes frightening.

I've been seeing a child.  She looks to be about five years old.  She has long blond hair, and wears a summer dress.

It's winter.

I live in the woods.  There's no one nearby.

She's alone.

She never speaks.  She keeps at a distance.  

If I get close, she evaporates into nothing.

She wants me to do something.  She's visiting me for a reason.  Maybe I am the only one who can see her.

Three days ago,  she started coming closer.  I could see dirt on her dress and face.

She never smiles.

Yesterday, she was at the end of the driveway.

Today she's outside my window.  Looking in at me.

I went outside.  She let me follow her to the end of the road.

It ends at the forest.  She walked about ten feet in.

When I caught up with her, she slowly sat on the ground.  I sat by her side.

She looked real, she looked alive.  I knew she wasn't.

She looked at me.  Then at the ground in front of us.  Frantically, she started digging.  I found myself digging with her.  My fingers started bleeding.  My hands became numb from the cold.  But, they were out of my control.  They kept on digging.  Soon, long blond strands of hair tangled between my fingers.

I wept.  I knew what was there.

When her face was exposed, I was able to stop.  Her ghost was no longer beside me.

I never saw her again.

Friday Scary Story, January 16,2015

Coffins.

They are for bodies to rot in.  Disintegrate.  Putrefy.

The coffin at the end of the room is small.

Tiny... like a child's.  It's not.  It's my mother's.


I want to open it.

I want to look inside.


She died before I could see her.  They found her on the street.  She was alone.

No one is here with me.  No one would know if I opened it.

Time is ticking.

I only have an hour.  I only have an hour, before she's taken away and burned.

They say it wasn't pretty.  I should remember how she was, not how she looks right now.  Street people.  No one cares.  They are garbage.

I hear her voice.  She's asking me to help her.  It's a whisper... but, I hear her.

What if she's still alive?  What if she needs me?  What if she's too weak to open the casket, and she's burned alive?

Questions are tearing at my brain.  I feel mad.



I did it.  I opened it.



I should of come earlier.  I should have listened...

The top fabric is torn and shredded.  Her fingernails pushed away from her bone.  I closed her mouth and eyelids.

I'm sorry, Mom.

Friday Scary Story, January 9, 2015

Fear.

The kind that makes you sick.  Makes you vomit.

Something is in my house.  It doesn't have a form.  It has a presence.

I feel it behind me.
I feel it beside me.
It whispers by my ear.  I don't know what it's saying.

I asked it to leave.

I made it mad.

Every night now, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs.  It stops at my bedroom door.  It stares at me.  I think it waits for me to fall asleep.

Last night, it touched me.  It touched my hair.  It was beside me on the bed.  I ran as fast as I could, out of the room.

I told it to leave.

I made it angry.

It pushes me now, when I am at the top of the stairs.  It bangs on the walls.  It opens and closes doors.  It is getting violent.  It is getting loud.  I am so scared.

I am leaving tonight.  I will never come back.

Scary Friday Story, January 2, 2015

Clowns.

They scare me.

What's behind the makeup?  What's behind the mask?

Traveling carnivals.  I don't like them.  That's where some live.

My mother made me go.  She forced me.

That's the first time I saw him.  He tried to make me laugh.  I wanted nothing to do with him.  I think that is why he follows me now.

He leaves me presents.  Dead things he kills.

Every night I peak out my window.  He stands there, smiling up at me from the ground below.

Jake went missing three days ago, but I know where he is.  I saw the clown drag him.  He dragged him away.

He watched me... as I watched him.  I wanted to save him.  I didn't know how.

No one has found him.  No one believes me.

The clown stays closer now.  He taps on my window.

He wants to get in.