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, 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, February 13, 2015

Little tiny teeth.

At first I could not figure out what it was from... But, now I do.

Little sharp teeth.  Doll teeth.

When I was young, I never liked her.  I never played with her.  She was from a second hand store.  Someone got rid of her, and she ended up with me.

I used to wonder what the marks were that went up and down the walls.  They were from her.

Now I see the marks on my sister.  She doesn't know how she got them.


I do.


The doll has gone too far.


I have plucked them all out.  They are lined up in a row.  Twelve sharpened baby teeth.  I wonder what child they once belonged to.  A morbid Victorian way of dealing with death.


She can't hurt me, or anyone else any more.