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.

Friday Scary Story, December 12, 2014

My bed is wet.

It is wet with blood.  I can smell it.  I think...  I can taste it.

My neck is sore.

I can barely turn my head.

I saw it in the mirror.  The bite marks.  Not just one, but many.  They are deep.  Perfect puncture marks in distinct patterns, like a decorated silk scarf wrapped around my throat.

I don't remember what happened.

I remember nothing.

My body aches.  It is on fire.  I opened the drapes, but the sun felt like a rasp tearing at my skin.  I made it as dark as I can.  No light. No sun.  Just black.

My bedroom is a mess.  I can't tell what is in there.  Who is in there. Nothing is moving.  There is no sound.

Be careful for what you wish for.  Beware of your yearning thoughts.

Vampires.

So beautiful.  So sexy.  Eternal.

The blood in the air smells like candy.



I need more.