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 12, 2015

Drowning.

Suffocation.

I don't know how to make it stop.

It started two weeks ago.

I had heard the story about the girl.  She drowned fighting for her life.  Eight girls took their prank too far.  The pool closed for a week.

Last Tuesday I found a hair clip in the grass by the deep end.  I kept it.  I can't get it off me.  If I throw it away, it is in my hair again when I wake up.

It was hers.

Now, I see her in the pool.

She is starting to fall apart.

When I go under water, she is waiting for me.  She smiles with what is left of her lips, then starts to pull swimmers under.  One by one she holds them until they are out of breath, then releases them.

No one else sees her.

Yesterday, she got one of the girls who taunted her.  She held her under until she was dead.  There are seven more.


Please tell me...

How do I make her stop?

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 29, 2015

This is the second chapter of my book Aggi.  I hope you enjoy it.

Watch Out Or You Will Burn

“When you stink from perspiration and get too close to a flame or are in direct sunlight, you will spontaneously explode or catch on fire.”

This is what Aggi was taught.  Again, as a reminder, ghastly pictures were placed up and down the hall.  She was thankful they were not in her room.  It would have been very hard to sleep at night.  She had seen them before.  As fast as they went up, they came down.  She never found where they hid them.  She had looked.

There were a couple of pictures that were etched into her brain.  She even gave them names.  One was Mrs. Potts.  It looked like the home of an Englishwomen.  It was very pretty and proper.  Her whole body had been burnt to white and gray powder, except for her legs from the knees down.  They were untouched.  They were still covered in her old-lady stockings and sensible shoes. 

Did she suffer and cry for help, finally to fall into the fireplace?  Why didn’t the stockings burn too?  They were one inch away from the incinerated flesh and bones.

Aggi analyzed was how nothing else was burned, not the rug, not the chair nearby, nothing.  She rationalized that at least no one around her would burn if she forgot to wear deodorant.  

She worried about the greasy, oily goop that spread from a burned body.  Her mom said the melted liquid from burned flesh and bones was like glue, and the smell was horrific.  Even dogs were said not to eat food that had been splattered with the stuff.  Her mother warned her that there should never be any burned body goop in the house under any circumstances.  She made Aggi keep a full box of thirty-six deodorants in her room, so to never run out and foul up her precious house.

Aggi took the photo of Mrs. Potts from the wall.  It was at the end of the line of pictures taped up along the hallway wall.  After all, there were so many, she didn’t think anyone would miss it, and she was right. 

There has to be a way to make sure I don’t burn.

 Aggi had been afraid of exploding and burning her whole life.

 I need to take control of this. 

She went to the library.

The library was an interesting place.  Lots of people and no one talked.  The point was not to interact with anyone else.  It was an incredibly majestic building.  The pure architecture of it was priceless.  Walking up the steps was entering into the minds of all the people whose words filled the cavernous rooms.  Because Aggi had always been told she was stupid, she felt embarrassed to be there.  She thought her stupidity was visible on the outside of her, so she avoided eye contact.  That way, no one would know how dumb she was and kick her out.  She did not look at the librarian’s eyes when she asked about the picture for fear the lady would see her incompetence.  Aggi slid the picture over to the librarian, across the massive wooden counter, and explained she was doing a research project for school.  As librarians always know, the librarian pointed to where the books about medical oddities were located. 

Aggi shyly said thank you, and slipped away.

She pored over the books, absorbing every bit of information.  When it was something she was interested in, it was like a voracious appetite that could not be filled.  Aggi loved anything having to do with the human body and science.  The library was filled with rows and rows of unbelievable facts. 

Why isn’t the whole world crashing through the doors to be in here?  I won’t tell anyone, so I can have this place to myself. 

Later, Aggi found a medical book on autopsies.  So that no one would know what she was looking at, she squatted into a hidden corner, and started flipping through the pages.  Though it was disgusting, she could not put the book down.  They used tools that looked like they came from a gardener.  Huge clippers to cut through ribs, and saws to cut around the head and lift the top off like a bowl.  She read about how each organ was removed and weighed.  Even the brain was sliced on a deli meat cutting machine and analyzed. 

Later in the mortuary, the eyes were stuffed with cotton and sewn shut, along with the mouth. 

Remembering what her parents said about selling her to science made her sick to her stomach. 

I must stay alive.  I won’t let them do this to me. 

It was too much information.  It was making her shaky.  Aggi needed to go outside and breathe fresh, cool air.  To make sure the book would be there when she returned, she tucked it in with the books at the bottom of the bookshelf – backwards, so the library code was hidden. 

It was a perfect day outside.  It felt so cleansing.  The air was crisp and the sun was bright.  The leaves were turning the brilliant colors of fall.  Purple crocuses were poking out of the ground, and the fire bushes were bright scarlet.  After three deep cleansing breaths, Aggi felt a little stronger.  She felt a little more empowered.  She felt a little more grown up.  She had done something for herself at the library and was proud of it. 

Every day I must be stronger.  I can do it… I can do it… 

Aggi was standing straighter.  She rolled her shoulders back and held her head up.  She almost had a bounce in her walk as she went home for dinner.

When she got home, she was still smiling. 

As Aggi walked in the door, her mom sassed, “What’s wrong with you?  What are you up to?  Wipe that smirk off your face and get ready for dinner.  Everyone is waiting for you.”

Aggi deflated. 

Her confidence melted from her. 

Her mouth froze shut. 

She was silent. 

It was easy for Aggi to mentally put herself in another world.  It was a protective device.  She took a breath and released to a feeling that cannot be described other than it was instant.  Pain, hurt, sorrow, or any other things that were too hard to bear at the moment were removed.  Something may even be happening to her physically, yet a defense mechanism allowed her to move ever so slightly away from her body and continue on, sometimes with extreme indifference. 

Instead of living it, she went somewhere else. 

Anywhere else. 

Snapping back happened quickly.

Aggi wanted to run. 

She wanted to run to Emma’s house.  She wanted to hear kind words.  She wanted to feel the kindness of Emma’s heart.  She would go get some rose petals to feel better.

Day 22:  October 18 – 343 days to freedom

I am nothing.  I have no existence.  I have no color, no reflection, nothing.  When I look in the mirror, I am hideous.  I am a monster.  I am dark inside like the color black.  I should have been named “Dark”.  That is how I feel.  I will call myself “Dark”.

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.

Friday Scary Story, April 17, 2015

Photos.

They should make you smile.  Feel good.

But, I feel sick.  I feel crazy.

I've felt something has been next to me, against me, close to me, for the last week.  But, when I look, there's nothing there.  

I didn't know what to do, so I took pictures.

I grabbed my phone, and began taking selfies.  I took one in every room of the house.



I'm not alone.



There was something behind me.  It's in every photo.  A dark shadow of a person.

I'm scared.  It's 3:00 am in the morning.  I've been up all night.  I felt the shadow behind me.  I felt it getting closer.

It's here right now.  It's breathing on my neck.  I can feel it's icy breath.  I can smell it's putrid stench.

I just took another selfie.

It's not a shadow any more.  It's a man.  His head is close to mine. He's looking at me.  I know him.  He's the man that killed my mother.

He's been dead for ten years.