From Halloween 2014... Still working on my latest script.

I went to the river, today.  I go there for clarity.

For insight.

For truth.

The river was churning, full of debris.  It's hidden treasures, released from the most recent storm.

I sat at the end of the dock.

I closed my eyes.

When I opened them, I saw a beautiful young women swimming around the many branches littering the water.  I watched her for awhile.

She turned to me, and waved.  I waved back.

She swam towards me.  Then, along side the dock.

She asked If I had seen her family.  She had gotten separated from them, and that they must be worried.

There was no one else around.

I told her I would help her.

I told her to take my hands.

She did.

She was so light when I pulled her out,  I fell backwards.

Embarrassed, I turned to her.  She was no longer the same.  Her long dark hair was mostly gone.  Just small patches on a few chunks of skin left.

Worms moved in and out of the holes, where her beautiful blue eyes had been.

There was only half a body.  The rest was gone.

After I wiped her skin from my hands, I covered her with my jacket.

I am afraid to move.

An old favorite I'd like to share again. Friday Scary Story, November 7, 2014

Dead silence.

No sounds.  None.

It woke me.

I looked out.  Thick fog fills the sky, and covers the ground.  No one is there.  No movement.  Nothing.

My gut hurts.  It feels like a warning.

What happened?  What is happening?

I go out.  I stand in the middle of the street.  I try to figure it out.

The ground... I see it on the ground.  The houses have long thick dark drag marks coming from the front door, ending at the curb.  It looks like blood.

It smells like blood.  There are bits of flesh.

My gut hurts again.  It is telling me to run.

I vomit.

On my knees, my eye catches something in the fallen leaves of scarlet and brown.

It's a finger.  A small finger.  I put it in my pocket.   I can't leave it.  It can't be alone.


I don't want to be alone.


My body is moving further away from the safety of my home.

I can't stop it.

Friday Scary Story, September 18, 2015

It's skin.

It's not mine.

When I jumped into the water from my boat, I landed on something.  I felt it slide up along my body.

I couldn't see, something covered my head like a child's blanket.

At the surface, I pulled it off.   It was human skin.


Then something touched my side.  It was half of a woman's body.


More parts are coming to the surface.  More people.


My boat is getting farther away.


Another body touched me.  I pushed it away.  It's arm came off like overcooked chicken.


It's getting dark.

Friday Scary Story, September 4, 2015

I was just trying to be nice.

I didn't know this would happen.

I shouldn't have talked to him.



He's still out there.  It's getting dark.  Why won't he leave?



He was on the train yesterday.  He noticed my manicure.  He said it was pretty.



He keeps getting closer.



I told him I wished I had real pretty nails.  It was just stupid conversation.



He knocked on my door today.  I don't know how he found me.  He handed me a box.  After I closed the door, I opened it.



It's a box of fingernails.  They are still attached to severed fingers.



He's at my window.

Friday Scary Story, August 28, 2015

Jello shots.

I should of said, "No".  We should of said, "No".  I wish we could take it back.

We didn't even know them.


It's so dark.  I can't see anything.



I can barely move.  



I don't know how long I've been in here.


I think I urinated on myself.

My fingers are raw, and throbbing.  I can smell blood.


It's such a small box.   Laura is beside me.  She stopped breathing. She is getting cold.

The air is getting thick.


I want to go home.  I want to hear my brothers fighting.  I want my mom to yell at me for not cleaning my room.  I want my dad to ground me.


Help me please.

I want to go home.

Friday Scary Story, August 21, 2015

A magician's bag.

It's full of tricks.

My uncle left me his.  It's been passed down for generations.

When I was little, my uncle would pull out a set of teeth on hinges from the bag.  He would chase me, trying to bite me with them.

They were made out my grandfather's teeth.  They took them out after he was dead.

When I opened the bag, they were in there.

I threw them away.  I don't want them near me.



I think he wants them back.


He's here right now.

He's been pulling out my hair when I sleep.  There are bunches missing.  I wake up screaming from the pain.

It's gathered into piles.  It's on top of the fridge.  I found it yesterday when I was cleaning.

I don't know how to give him his teeth back.  I took them out of the garbage, and put them back into the bag.

In the morning I will find where he is buried.  I will put them in the ground with him.


Maybe then, he will leave me alone.

Friday Scary Story, August 14, 2015

They're not suppose to move.

They're not suppose to be alive.

This one is.

I bought an old busted up mannequin from a thrift shop.  I wanted to scare my roommate on our camping trip.  I got here a couple days before her, so I could set it up.

It's alive.  I know this is crazy, but it's true.  

Last night I found it whispering in my ear.  It was inside my tent.  I pushed it away from me.

I ran to my car, but it won't start.  It did something to it.  I know it.

Running away, I fell down a hill.

My leg is busted.  I see bone.

It's dark out here now.  I hear it coming.

It walks like a spider.  I see it getting closer in the moonlight.


I don't want to die.

Friday Scary Story, August 7, 2015

I've locked all the doors.

I've locked all the windows.

I must not get out.  I can't let anyone in.

The old man at the end of the road finally got sick of me cutting through his property.  I never believed the stories that he practiced voodoo.  But, now I do.

He cursed me.

For the first time I saw him smile.  He acted like he was biting me, then laughed long and hard as I ran.


The last few days I have woken up with blood in my mouth.  Pieces of flesh in my mouth.


It's mine.


I must be doing it when I am asleep.  It's bad.  Pieces of me are missing.

I can't fall asleep.

It's the curse.  Curses are real.

Friday Scary Story, July 31, 2015

Eyes.

They tell you if a person is alive, or dead.

I work in a morgue.  I see dead ones.  I sew them shut.


I hate working alone.



A new body came in.  Her legs are missing.  It's cut smooth.  She has been dead for at least a week.


She started looking at me.


I know she does.


Her eyes are alive.

The stitches won't hold.  So I glued them shut.

It didn't work.

She looked at me again.


I'm hiding.  I'm in the storage room.

I heard her drop down.  I heard her slide over to the door.

Her fingers are sliding back and forth under the door.


I can't get out.

Friday Scary Story, July 24, 2015 - This one is from Dec. 5, 2014 - It's real so I wanted to say it again.

Dark spaces.

They are scary.

You never know what you will find.

Under my bed, it is dark.  Something lives there.  It has touched me.

I have tried everything to not let it, but it still happens.

It stopped for awhile.  It has been six years.  But, now it has started again.

For the last four nights, it has come all the way out.  I sleep with the light on.  I sleep with my feet tucked in.  I keep the blankets tight, but it still comes out.

It grabs onto me.  Then it pulls its self up.  It rests on top of me.  I won't open my eyes.  I don't want to see it.  It crushes me.  It is so heavy.  I feel like I am going to die.  I feel like it will take my breath away from me.

Before I pass out... it slides back down.  It slides away.

It never says a word.  It has no breath.

I wish it would stop.

I wish it would go away.

Friday Scary Story, July 17, 2015

Instinct.

Always follow it.  Always.

I took the stairs.  I started on the sixth floor.

When I saw an empty beer can tucked into the corner, my instinct kicked in. It told me to get out.  Take the elevator.

I didn't.


The next flight down, I saw what looked like a small flap of folded over skin on the railing.  It couldn't have been.

I went faster.


On the next flight of stairs, there were a handful of flies on something in the corner.  I looked close.  It was a severed nose.  There was no blood any where.  Just a piece cut from someone.

I tripped walking backwards.  My ankle snapped.  It made a loud noise.

So did someone else.


When I stopped at the bottom, I heard an extra step above me, then silence.


The door is locked.  It's never locked.



Someone is above me.  The person is throwing things at me.  They're humming... Rock a Bye Baby.  One of the pieces hit me.

It's the tip of a finger.

Friday Scary Story, July 10, 2015

Crying.

Sobbing.

Sometimes I think I hear it before I open the bathroom door at work. It's an old historic building, so it could be anything.

People say it's haunted.

Now I know, it is.

As soon as I stepped in, I felt it.

There are two stalls.  I saw a shadow in one.  I looked, nothing was there.

When I sat down, I saw a shadow outside the stall door.  As I bent down to see it, something grabbed my hair... from above.  It pulled me up to my feet.

I felt clumps tear from my scalp.

I screamed.

It dropped me.

The stall door wouldn't open, so I crawled underneath it.  It dragged me back twice by my ankles, before I got out.

The hall door won't open.  I'm locked in.

The lights went out.


She is laughing.

Her icy breath is hitting my face.

Friday Scary Story, July 3, 2015

I keep finding spiders.

Thick ones that move fast.

I found webs under my bed, and in between my clothes in the closet.

When I move my curtains, a few always drop down.


I followed one to the attic.  The opening is in the ceiling, above my desk.

When I pushed it open, a heavy spider jumped on my face.


I fell.  I must have hit my head.  I can't focus.


I can't make myself move.  I can't get control of my panic attack.


They're dropping down on me.  There's so many.  They're getting heavy.

I feel my face, and body swelling from their bites.

They are tearing at me.  

I hear them scratching in my ears.

I can smell blood.

I can taste it.

Friday Scary Story, June 19, 2015

Estate sales.

Antiques.

Beautiful items, with an interesting past.

What if the past is still alive in it?  What if it attaches to you?  What if it won't let go?


I think this is happening to me.

It was so beautiful.  It must have been given to someone out of love. When I got home, I put the ring on my finger.  Now, it won't come off.

I try.


So does someone else.  Something else.  I don't know what it is.

It has been waking me up every night.  I wake up from it trying to get the ring off my finger.

At first it just tugged on it.  Then it covered my arm and hand with scratches.

Two days ago, it bit me.  The teethmarks are still there.

Last night, when I woke up, there was a knife on my bed.


I am afraid to go to sleep.

Friday Scary Story, June 5, 2015

Killers.

Sociopaths.

Is it learned?  Or, are you born that way.

I grew up next door to the neighborhood butcher.

He sold specialty meats.   I never ate any.

I used to watch him from my window as a little girl.  He would look up at me, then continue sharpening his knives.

As we both grew older his soulless eyes never changed.  He was a monster.  No one else could see it.


I don't know how to get out.  I am locked in a cage.  No one can hear my screams.  No one knows I am here.  The world thinks I am out finding myself before I go to college.  They don't know I am next door.

It amuses him to see my fear.  

I stopped being scared, I won't give him that.   When my time comes, he will die.  He will be the victim.

Not me.

What he doesn't know, is I learn well.  I watched what he did.  I know exactly what to do.  I will do to him, what he has done to others. This will be retribution for all the people I watched him butcher and sell.

He picked the wrong person.

This I swear.

Friday Scary Story, May 15, 2015

Deja vu.

I've been here before.  I've done this before.

I always end in the same spot.  I sit in the same booth.  In the same cafe.

People think deja vu isn't real.  It is.  One has haunted me for awhile. I need to stop it.  

There's always this particular man sitting at the counter.  His black hat shields his face from my sight. His heavy black raincoat falls to his ankles.  He has shiny black shoes.

He's here.  He scares me.  

I'm going to finish this deja vu.  I need to see what happens.

He coughed...  This is where I leave.  But, I'm not leaving.

It's okay.  Nothing happened.


Wait.


Something just fell out of his pocket.

It's a severed ear.  It landed in the blood drops leading up to his stool. I never noticed them before.  His coat side pocket is bulging.  It is wet.  It is dripping.  The pool collecting on the floor is red.

He just turned and looked at me.  I never let it go this far.

He's smiling.

I know what happens.   I remember now.


He kills me.

He puts some of me in his pocket, with the rest of them.

Friday Scary Story, April 24, 2015

Alaska.  Known for it's beauty.

I wanted to experience it.  I wanted to prove I could travel alone. Take care of myself.

It was a mistake.

Two hundred and sixty miles North of Anchorage, I needed gas.  I was tired, and I needed a hot shower.

Mobile homes, a gas station, and a shot up "Motel" sign.  It seemed good enough.

When the kid at the front desk told me there were no rooms available, I was offended.  There were no cars, other than mine.  I forced the situation.  He gave in.  

I got a room.  It looks like no one has been in here for years.  There are dead bugs all over.

I should of left sooner.
 
I tried, but the kid said he couldn't help me any more.  Then he looked over my shoulder, and stopped talking.

I turned around.  Across the room, there were five people sitting at a bar.  They were staring at me.  I felt fear.  One got up and slowly walked past me.  He stared hard into my eyes, smiled, then spit.  He spit out a fingernail. An entire fingernail.


The kid won't look at me any more.


I'm back in my room, hiding.  My car is gone, they've moved it.  

Outside my window, I can see them.  They are skinning and carving up animals.  I see the pieces.  They are in a pile.

There are feet.

Severed human feet.