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, 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, 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, October 17, 2014

I take the train eight times, every week.  It goes through a long underground tunnel.

A massive graveyard covers the hilltop above.

When it rains real hard, I wonder if water that passes over rotting bodies drips down over the train.

I don't want the water to touch me.  No offense to the dead, I just don't want their juices on me.

The last two weeks, as soon as the train enters the tunnel, I hear a child crying.  No one else seems to hear her.

After the first week, I figured she was dead.  

Sometimes... I hear the dead.

Sometimes... I see them.

She told me, she was looking for her hand.  She needed to be whole.  She had gathered all the other parts the man had cut off, but she couldn't find her hand.  There was no blood, but I could then see how the different parts of her where not put together as well as they could be.

I don't want this task, I don't want it at all.  My mother always said, "You can't help the gifts you were born with."

Tomorrow, I am going to see if I can find her hand.