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sssssssssttttttttttttttories!!!! |
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Laura was woken by her father; something that he had not done since she was a child. As her thoughts slowly swam back into focus, she was suddenly sure that she had slept naked and he had seen her, but to her relief she was wearing her baby-blue pyjamas. God, what was he doing in here anyway?
“Come on, you,” he said brightly, opening the curtains and letting the sunlight in. Outside, she could hear a lawnmower running, perhaps in the next street, and what could’ve been birdsong. “It’s Button Day, remember? Get dressed, put something nice on. We’re leaving in an hour.”
Laura stirred, her voice groggy. “Dad, what the hell? Couldn’t you just knock? What if I’d slept nude?”
He didn’t look at her, he was too busy admiring his garden from the window. “Oh, you’ve nothing I haven’t seen before. I’m your bloody father, I‘ve wiped your arse many a time before now.”
“Not the point, Dad.“ Squinting, Laura sat up, rubbing her eyes, and remembered what he’d just said.
“Dad, did you just say ‘Button Day’?”
“Well, yeah. What, did you forget?” He laughed as he crossed the room to the door. “You were only talking about it last night.”
“Wait - what?” She frowned, not understanding. Something was wrong here. A fine way to start the day, really. She hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet, and she was already getting weird s**t. “What are you talking about?”
He shook his head, still smiling as he left the room. “Get dressed. Breakfast is ready.”
He left her sitting up in bed, holding the covers to her breasts, a look of confusion on her face. Eventually she got out of bed, and began to pull some clothes on that were to hand. Familiar sounds floated up to her from downstairs: pots and pans rattling, the TV on low, the muffled tones of her family talking to each other, a short, harsh laugh - her brother. No doubt laughing at the TV.
She did her zipper on her jeans, and stood for a second before finally saying out loud, “Button Day?”
Downstairs, her mother was washing the dishes, humming to herself. Sunlight filled the room, making it warm and fresh. Her father and brother were sitting at the table, eating toast. There was a plate set for her, and she sat down, pulling it towards her.
Her brother was wearing a crisp white shirt - and he never wore shirts. She doubted that he even owned one. This was one of her father’s, she recognised it.
“What’s with the shirt?” She asked, picking her toast up, and his eyes never left the TV, which was typical of him. A year younger than her at fourteen, he was arrogant and know it all to boot.
“It’s Button Day, isn’t it?” He mumbled through a mouthful of toast, and her mother turned around, and tutted loudly at him.
“Mark, don’t talk with your mouth full.” She saw Laura and sighed. “Laura, you could dress a little better than that. At least make an effort.”
“What for?” Laura said, then looked at the ceiling, irritated. “Oh wait, let me guess. Button Day. Am I missing something here?”
Her mother shook her head, turning back to the dishes. “Don’t be so childish, Laura. It doesn’t suit you. Please make sure you get changed into something else before we leave.”
“I wanted to see Michael today. I’m not going with you, sorry.”
A hush fell over the kitchen as everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her in surprise. Warily, Laura said, “What?”
“Are you crazy?” Her brother asked. “You can’t go out today, you’re coming with us!”
“Laura, you made plans? Today, of all days?” Her father asked, and she pushed back on her chair as a dull anger rose in her.
“Yes, I made plans! What the hell is going on this morning?”
No-one answered her. They were staring at her as if she’d took a crap on her plate. She got up, pushing her plate away. “You know what? Forget it.”
“Laura, stop this, right now,” her mother snapped. “You knew perfectly well what we were doing today. It’s been planned for a long time. Now you can just call Michael and tell him why you’re not seeing him.”
“That’s just it!” Laura yelled. “What do I tell him? I don’t know why I can’t go! It’s just you telling me I can’t!”
“It’s Button Day,” her brother said. “That’s why.”
“Button Day?” She cried. “What the hell are you all talking about? I’ve never heard of Button Day! You’re all acting like-” She suddenly stopped, comprehension dawning on her face. Her family were playing a joke on her. This was all a joke. With a warm rush, a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. Now she understood.
“Very funny, guys,” She said, her voice calm and collected. “You really had me going there.” She turned and left the room, heading for the front door. As she went, her mother called after her, “Laura! Please be back in an hour, we can’t leave without you, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Laura called back. “I wouldn’t want to miss Button Day, would I?”
The short walk to Michael’s house gave Laura enough time to feel guilty about how angry she had gotten with her family. As she’d gotten older, her temper had shortened. She planned on apologising later - she had an hour, right? Wasn’t that what her mother had said?
I wonder where we’re going, Laura thought, watching a plane a few miles above cut a white line across the sky. Or was that a joke too? Was it that they really were going out, and it had been a planned thing, and she had simply forgotten all about it?
She could see Michaels house from here, with the white fence and broad front lawn. She began to jog, eager to see him. As she crossed his driveway the front door opened and Michael came out with a look of shock on his face. He had seen her coming up the street.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Laura asked, and to her dismay he suddenly looked a little angry.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“What, did we fight, and I missed the memo?”
“You told me this was your family’s Button Day,” he said, and there was movement behind him.
Laura blinked, her mouth open in surprise. A blonde girl came to the door, squinting in the light, and slinked her arm around Michael. She was wearing a nightshirt and nothing else, and her hair was tousled.
“Go home,” the blonde said, and Laura backed away, blinking back sudden tears. Michael would not meet her eyes, so she turned and ran.
Her mother caught her just as she was about to run into her bedroom.
She pulled Laura close, holding her as she sobbed. “I know, I know. Let it all out.” She stroked Laura’s hair, rocking her a little. “Men are bastards, aren’t they?”
Laura pulled back to look at her mother, sniffing. “…You know?”
“You’ve just come back from his place in floods of tears. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what happened.”
“He’s got himself a blonde. A blonde! I’ll bet that’s why he wanted me to dye my hair!”
She cried for a little longer, and her mother held her. “There, there. Come on. Let’s get you changed for our trip.”
“…So we are going out?”
“Of course we are, silly! Here we are, this is a nice blouse. Your best, I think. Put this on, I want us looking our best for our Button Day.”
Laura’s stomach rolled lazily. She suddenly remembered Michael mentioning Button Day, too. This wasn’t a joke. This was real. It was all real, and she didn’t have a clue what was happening.
“Mom, listen to me a minute. Something here is very wrong.”
“I know. You really liked him, I know you did. It’s terrible that he’s upset you, on this day, of all days.”
“That’s just it, Mum - I don’t know anything about Button Day. I’ve never heard of it, and since this morning I feel as if I’m the only one who hasn’t the faintest idea what’s going on!”
“Well, to be honest, I’m no expert. I know it was the Governments idea to combat overcrowding, but other than that-”
“No, no. I mean at all. I’ve never heard of it.”
There was an uneasy silence, in which her mother looked at her for a long time. Her mouth was set in a hard line.
When she finally spoke, her voice was calm. “I know you’re upset, so I’ll play along with your little prank, okay? Just get changed - here’s your blouse - and I’ll see you in the car in five minutes, okay? We’re waiting for you.”
Her mother walked away, leaving Laura alone and frightened, her best blouse in her trembling hands.
The next thing she knew, she was in the car. Everything was flowing by in a fluid, carefree motion that made her feel more and more uneasy. What the hell was going on? Why did she not recall anything about this day that everyone was talking about?
She could see everything in absurd detail, slowed down to super slow motion: The fluff on the back of her mothers headrest. A bit of stubble that her fathers razor had missed. A crack in the pavement as they passed. She suddenly felt more lucid than she had ever felt in her whole life, yet she was unable to speak, trapped inside her own body. It was as if she were a puppet, walking on strings made from fear’s own web.
Somewhere deep inside, she was still clinging to an ocean-battered rock of hope, a charred crater of sense that told her that this was all a massive joke, a huge, elaborate hoax. As they pulled up outside the white, box-like building, squat and stern, that hope faded.
“Here we are,” her father said cheerfully, and she felt herself pull the door handle and step out of the car. She stood trembling in the sun like a baby deer, the building bearing down on her as if it had teeth.
Acting as if they were at the seaside, her family got out of the car, chatting animatedly. They set off towards the main entrance, Laura trailing behind. A sign stood over them: GOVERNMENT PROPERTY - KEEP OUT. She saw the security cameras watching them, and hurried after her family, her footsteps flat and dead.
The door to the building was made of glass, and as they pushed through into the clean lobby, Laura saw a receptionist busily typing on a computer. The receptionist looked up with a professional smile at her father as he approached.
“Hi, we’re the Krandalls. Here for our Button Day,” he said, and she smiled.
“Go on through, sir. Just keep walking that way.”
Her father thanked her, and on they went, down a long brightly lit corridor, lined with brass plaques which gleamed. There was something engraved on them all, blocks and blocks of text, and she drew closer as she walked to see what it was. She saw her own reflection looking back at her, and in the harsh fluorescent lights, she looked haggard.
Names. Hundreds and hundreds of names, thousands of names, one after another. Hogg. Wilson. Carpenter. Buxton. Bell. Palmer. Rowe. Brown. The list went on, seemingly endless.
Her family walked on, still chatting as if they were on holiday, and up ahead the corridor was coming to an end.
The corridor opened up into a large, white room. In this room, four small, waist high pillars stood, each with a red button on the top. Beyond them was a long polished desk, with three Government officials seated at it. The Government insignia hung on a huge banner over it all. The room was silent, and sterile.
Laura watched her family each step up to a pillar, watching the officials expectantly, leaving a pillar for her. Her very own button. Trembling, she stepped up to the pillar, only to notice with a jolt that the floor around them all was on a slight incline, angled towards a drain behind that she hadn’t noticed when she had first arrived. One of the officials spoke, his voice echoing in the open space.
“Krandall family. The Government has deemed this to be your Button Day. We thank you for your sacrifice to your country, and to your people. Your names shall join those in the long Hall in your honour.”
“We’re proud,” her father said, and her mother nodded, sincere. Her brother looked as if he were about to weep with pride.
The official continued. “Then please, in your own time, push your buttons. May God be with you all.”
Her father turned to his wife, his son, and his daughter, and smiled. “I’ll go first, to show you how easy it is.” He pushed the button on the pillar, and it depressed with a loud, satisfying click.
As Laura watched, her fathers face turned red, as if he’d been jogging. She remembered how easily flustered he got with exercise, and assumed he’d just walked too fast down the corridor, or something. That was when a crimson teardrop slid down his cheek, and plopped fatly onto the hard, white floor.
Laura watched, frozen, as blood began to pour from her fathers eyes, nose, ears and mouth. It ran down his shirt, over the belt that she had bought him for his birthday, and down his trousers. It splattered onto the floor. All at once, his eyes burst like over-ripe plums and hung on his cheeks, still connected by red strings. Liquefied brain ran from his eye sockets.
As his body crumpled to the floor, her mother and brother looked at each other and smiled, pushing their buttons at the same time. They turned to Laura, holding their hands out, blood seeping from their eyes and noses, tricking from their mouths. They assumed Laura had pushed hers, too.
Laura drew in a breath to scream, but the soft pop of her mothers and brothers eyeballs made it catch in her throat. They fell over backwards, landing on top of each other. Blood was being channelled to the drain, which drank quietly.
All was silent.
“Miss Krandell?”
Numb, she saw the officials watching her closely.
“Miss Krandell, overpopulation is destroying our towns and cities. Your country needs your action today.”
She stared wide-eyed at the official. To her side, her brothers hand twitched, the last of the nerve impulses fading. Blood was already congealing in his empty eye sockets.
The official was standing up slowly, and she saw that he was a tall man. Taller than most, no doubt.
“Humanity has called,” he said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. The world had faded away to the button under her fingertips. It was smooth and red. Pushable.
“…Will you answer?”
~END~
There was a girl, emily, and on her 13th b-day, she had a sleepover.
Since the girl had all her friends as company, the parents went out to eat.
At one point the party was listening to the radio when they heard that a psycho escaped from an asylum.
All the guests and emily got all freaked out, but one girl remained level-headed.
She said, "Whatever. I need to go to the bathroom." she left. After about 10 minutes passed, somebody went to check on her.
They never came back up. This process repeated until Emily was by herself. She said: "Oh, they must be waiting to jump out and scare me." So she went down the stairs, bracing herself, and walked into the bathroom. Girl's corpses and blood spattered the walls. On the sink lay a stiky note:
"Happy 13th.
Love,
Your friendly neighborhood escapee."
~END~
Our regular driver was always giving speeches, though we barely listened anymore, over the years we'd heard them all a hundred times. That's how we knew he wouldn't be in on Friday. He'd given us the "Be good for the substitute" speech on Thursday. Of course, we could have done just that, but it would have spoiled our perfect record.
Bus 220 hadn't ever let a sub get through the whole run without turning him or her into a raving lunatic. We'd beaten them all. You spend half of your life riding school buses, you get to be an expert.
We brought one poor woman to tears, and once we even sent some old guy running screaming from the bus the instant we got to school. We had a reputation, and we'd earned it - along with a couple hundred days' worth of detention, all combined. But that was the price you paid for being undefeated, for being the best: It was the price of fame.
Half the kids got on at the first stop so they could pick their seats. I usually got on at the second stop. Leonard always saved me a seat near the back. Leonard was thirteen, a year older than me, and much, much bigger. He was tough as they come. He didn't get in fights anymore because he'd punched out just about everyone worth fighting by the fifth grade. These days he was my friend, apprentice, and bodyguard. I had a reputation for being smart. Diabolically clever, actually. You know, a wise guy. A legend, sort of - which suited me fine.
I made Leonard laugh, along with everybody else - except Principal Miller, of course, who really didn't ever see the humor. Especially not the time we put sticky glue on the toilet seats in the faculty restroom. But that's another story...
That Friday morning it was raining and still pretty dark, the way mornings are in early November. The bus pulled up and the door opened, and I saw the guy, the sub, sitting there, bone-thin and sickly looking, staring out the windshield. He wore black sneakers, black jeans, and a black, hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up and the hood down. He had long black hair and black eyes and a tattoo on his right forearm that read: WE DELIVER.
Usually the drivers watch you getting on. Not this guy. I went down the aisle dispensing greetings and sat down next to Leonard, then pointed up front. "That guy's in a world of his own," I said.
Leonard grinned and nodded. "So what are we gonna do to him?"
The bus moved again, then stopped at the next corner. By th time we'd made all the stops, everybody was snickering about the driver and plotting, getting warmed up. The driver just stared straight ahead. He didn't even look up in the big mirror so he could see what we were doing.
I shook my head. "Talk about asking for it."
"This is going to be too easy," Leonard said.
The window next to our seat was one of those emergency exit types, with the long metal clamp across the bottom. I reached over in front of Leonard and pulled the clamp up. The buzzer sounded immediately, loud and annoying. It kept sounding for about a minute while the driver just drove, staring ahead. Unitl he stopped at a trafic light. He raised his right hand in the air. Suddenly the buzzer quit. He put his hand down. The bus was moving again. I pushed the clamp shut, then popped it back open, then shut. The buzzer just wouldn't work.
Five seats from the front, a couple of Leonard's buddies, the Connery brothers, started fake fighting. The girls sitting across from them went along with the game, howling at the boys, picking favorites to win. Everybody on the bus started chanting, "Fight, fight, fight!"
Then one of the boys swung just as the bus hit a huge pothole - a hole I didn't remember being there. Anyway, he lurched and his fist hit the window and I heard it crack - his fist, I mean. He sat down and hugged his hand and started moaning like somebody had bitten it off. The driver just kept on staring ahead, kept driving.
"Hey, shut up!" somebody yelled at the Connery kid.
"You shut up!" both Connerys yelled back. Then everyone was doing it, yelling "SHUT UP!" or worse, at the top of their lungs. Which brought on the coughing attack.
Practically every kid on the bus seemed to be affected somehow. Just after the driver glanced over his shoulder, we all mysteriously started coughing and hacking and choking. It was as if we'd all come down with the flu at the same time. After a few minutes the fit passed. "This is weird," Leonard said."We're having the worst luck."
"Or that guy leads a charmed life," I said, beginning to wonder. But I didn't think we were finished, not yet. I sat up and looked around. "Let's really get his attention," I announced. I tore a sheet of paper out of my notebook, held it up, and crumpled it in my fist. That was the signal, and it was followed by the ragged sound of paper being torn out of forty-six notebooks all at once. An instant later we opened fire.
Paper balls flew everywhere, bounced off everything, then got thrown again.
"Anybody hear anything on the news about a blizzard warning?" I shouted, and Leonard laughed out loud. A few balls of paper hit the driver in the back of the head. He raised his right hand again.
Suddenly all the flying papers burst into flames. They flashed white-hot and vanished, leaving only traces of ashes floating around sinside the bus and the smell of smoke. I stared at the driver, waiting for some reaction, or maybe an explanation - anything! But he just kept looking straight ahead, hands on the wheel again.
No one dared move. We sat, frozen, not even blinking, as if we'd been hypnotized. I realized I wasn't breathing and made myself start again. That's when I looked past the driver, out the windshield, and decided something was very wrong.
It should have been bright daylight by now, and it wasn't. We weren't on the regular bus route anymore, either. We weren't anywhere in town at all.
I cleared my throat, took a deep breath, and cupped my hands. "Where are we?" I called to the driver.
No answer.
After a long time I asked again, and still got nothing.
"Helloooo!" somebody nearer the front sang out. The others were all breathing again, too, and they had begun to notice what I had noticed. They were busy wiping the steam off the insides of the windows, peering through the wet glass. Leonard seemed lost in concentration.
Everyone up front was trying to get the driver to say something now, though no one seemed eager to approach him. I waited as long as I could, then I swallowed hard. Somebody had to go. "Come on, Leonard." I said, figuring out who it would be. "You and I are going to get some answers."
"Right behind you," Leonard said, snapping out of his trance. We got up. Leonard's head nearly touched the ceiling. It made me feel better, knowing he was there. We moved up the aisle.
"You wanna tell us where we're going?" I asked the sub, standing right next to him. "We've got a right to know." I noticed he'd put the hood up on the sweatshirt. I could barely see his face, but the flesh almost looked like plain white bone.
"You have a date with destiny," the sub said in a low, straight, bone-chilling voice that would have made Darth Vader sound pretty cheerful. It made my heart pound.
"We have to get to school!" I told him. "Do you know what you're doing?"
"He's lost!" someone yelled.
"He's an idiot!" someone else added.
"You're gonna have a mutiny on your hands if you don't get this bus going the right direction," Leonard offered.
"It is headed in the right direction," the driver replied. "You've all been put in my capable hands. I have been sent to bring you in."
He's nuts, I thought. I was getting frustrated, so I decided to try a different approach. "You got a name?" I asked.
He nodded slowly.
I looked at Leonard. He just shrugged. I turned back to the driver. "Okay, so what is it?"
"Death."
I felt something turn hard in my stomach. "Death?"
The driver nodded, then pointed to the tattoo. "We deliver," he said.
I looked at Leonard again, who shrugged again. "I don't get it," he said.
"This bus is going to be in an accident, a terrible accident, and you are all going to die," Death explained. "It'll be such fun. For me, anyway. There's nothing you can do about it. These things happen, you see, and they are going to happen to you."
We hit a bump in the road. Without thinking, I put my hand on Death's shoulder to steady myself. My skin nearly froze before I could pull it away. I turned around and got behind Leonard, who seemed to be taking all of this rather lightly.
"Hey, Earth to Captain Zero!" Leonard jeered. He tried to get in Death's face. "You turn this thing around right now, or somebody might get hurt." The Connery brothers were getting up now, ready to back Leonard, more or less.
"Enough," Death said. He reached out, put his hand on Leonard's chest, and pushed. Leonard jerked back and slammed against the bus doors, then fell in a big, bent heap down in the stairwell. No one came to help. It took me a couple of minutes to get him up and out of there. He wouldn't stop moaning.
"Go back to your seats," Death said. "You'll be dead soon enough."
We went, and sat, and worried. I thought I heard some of the girls crying, but it turned out to be the Connery brothers. Death kept driving for a while, a very long while. Everybody talked in whispers. Right about the time I stopped shaking, I decided it was time to get a grip. "If we're going to die anyway, then we ought to try something," I suggested to anyone who would listen. "What have we got to lose?"
"You got any ideas?" Leonard asked, while several others leaned close all around.
"We've never seen a sub we couldn't beat. We're the experts! Maybe we aren't trying hard enough. I say we give it another shot."
"But he said there was nothing we could do," Leonard moaned. "He said this was our destiny!"
I was way ahead of him. "Yeah, but if we were on our regular route, with our regular driver, I think we'd be okay," I said, still working it out myself. "This Death guy is playing with the rules. Maybe he's gotta drive us somewhere strange to make our deaths happen."
Leonard made a sour face. "So we're not supposed to die?"
"Not unless we go his way - the wrong way. Death is changing the odds. I figure we can do the same thing back."
Everybody was silent. "I still don't get it," Leonard said finally.
"Doesn't matter," I replied, standing up, getting people's attention, which is when I noticed how badly my legs were shaking. The driver continued staring straight ahead. "We give this guy the works," I said. "Starting right now!"
A feeble cheer swept the ranks. Within seconds, though, a new blizzard of papers was filling the air, every kid on the bus was screaming at maximum decibels, and half the kids had formed a team that lunged all together from one side of the bus to the other, trying to knock it over. I don't know who had the hard candy, but it was a nice touch. I though the pieces that missed the driver were going to crack the windshield.
Just then the bus bounced a couple of times and stopped dead. Death pulled the keys out of the ignition and stood up. He turned and looked at us, took a spit ball in the forehead, then shook his head, grabbed the lever, and flung the door open. Next he held out his right hand and pointed to both emergency exit doors, the roof hatches, and all three emergency windows, including mine. Dark purple light glowed and crackled for an instant wherever he pointed.
I could see Death's face within the shadow cast by the hood of his sweatshirt. He was grinning now, thin white lips curling upward. I couldn't see his eyes. Suddenly he turned and leaped straight off the bus. The double doors slammed shut behind him.
Everybody applauded; they jumped up and down; they laughed like a bunch of first graders. I was too busy testing the clamp on my window. It wouldn't budge.
Then a girl up front tried to pull the main door open. She couldn't. "We're trapped!" the girl yelled. Everybody got worried all over again.
I took my sleeve and wiped more steam off the window. We were parked across a set of railroad tracks. Through the gloom I saw a bright headlight maybe a half mile away, then I heard the low moan of the whistle. A train was coming straight at us.
Everyone else had gotten the same idea about rubbing the windows. Somebody - it might have been me - yelled, "TRAIN!" After that everybody started to scream. A clump of kids were hanging on the main door lever, but it wouldn't budge.
"Fire drill!" one of the girls near me yelled, and people started tugging at the emergency doors and window hatch levers. Nothing opened.
Leonard grabbed me with both hands, finally losing it. "We're gonna die!" he wailed. "My mother is gonna kill me!"
"Wait!" I said, trying to think, trying to remind myself we were supposed to be experts. I vaguely remembered one of the regular driver's speeches, remembered just enough. "Leonard, come on!" I grabbed him by the shirt. We headed for the front, where I had him stand in the driver's seat. "Kick-out windshields!" I said. "Try one!"
Leonard stood staring a moment, then he nodded once and sat. He slouched down, braced himself against the seat back, planted both big feet on the glass, and heaved. The edge squeezed out, then the whole left half of the windshield popped free of the soft rubber moldings and bounced off the hood. Somebody in back caught on, and a second later they had the big window in the rear door pushed out.
I started climbing over the steering wheel behind Leonard, following him out onto the hood. The train was almost there. Our record was on the line. This was going to be close!
I stood on the side of the tracks and watched as the last kid bounded off the hood of the bus and sprinted toward the rest of us. With a terrible crash the train barreled into the middle of the bus, bent it into a crumpled horseshoe, and booted it down the tracks like a kid kicking a loaf of bread.
I almost couldn't believe we'd made it.
Then I heard the laughter.
I turned around and there he was again: Death. He didn't look the least bit upset. He raised his hands toward the sky and held them apart. "Touchdown!" he said. "Well done!"
That was when I noticed that the sun still hadn't come up, and that, when I looked as far into the distance as I could, there wasn't any distance. The land, the sky, everything just seemed to fade into dark misty gray.
I was starting to feel ill. This wasn't over yet.
"Tomorrow," Death said with a grin, "we'll see how you do in the plane crash."
~END~
The Legend:
A couple checks into a hotel and have to put up with a foul odor in their room all night. They call the staff to complain and somebody figures out the stench is coming from the bed.
Now, there's no way that scenario is going to have a good ending. You're almost hoping at that point that it'll turn out the last guest just got drunk and pooped behind the headboard. But, no, the staff take off the matress and discover the couple has been sleeping over the rotting body of a dead girl who had been stuffed in the box spring.
The Truth:
This actually happened, in Las Vegas. Also, Kansas City, MO and Atlantic City, NJ and several times in Florida and California and, well, let's just say that in or under the bed in a hotel room seems to be a fairly popular destination for the recently deceased.
It makes sense if you think about it. The closet and under the bed are the two most popular places to hide just about anything, so it's not surprising a hell of a lot of corpses end up there as well. In fact, the odds are pretty good that at least once a guy has killed a prostitute, tried to stuff her under the bed, only to find there was already a body there.
XD lawlz
~END, again~
Once upon a time, there were two happily married people named Samantha and Joseph. Their child, four month old Lizzie, was a beautiful baby, and a perfectly healthy one to boot. They were a middle class family, with enough money to get by, but with today's gas prices, just as much to complain about as anybody else.
One day, when arranging a babysitter for little Lizzie, they found out that their usual sitter was out of town with his family. Not having time to do a thorough search, they contacted another family from the neighborhood, whose daughter was available for the job. Her name was Katie. They didn't know this girl very well, not nearly as well as their last sitter, and although Samantha was nervous about the arrangement, they both agreed that Katie would do.
They enjoyed a nice, peaceful evening together, at an average restaurant, and then at a movie. Samantha was worried at first, but like her husband, she slowly lost herself in their date, and eventually lost all concern about their child. Everything, she thought, would be fine.
At around 11:30 that night, Samantha and Joseph returned home, and as soon as they opened the door, they could smell that the air was thick with marijuana. Having heard them enter, Katie walked out to greet them, her eyes as red as a tube of lipstick.
"What's going on here?" Joseph asked.
"It's okay, your baby's asleep." Katie answered. "She's in her crib. And I found some meat in the fridge, so I was making you guys a roast. It's in the oven."
Despite the smoke, they paid Katie for the evening, and she left.
"Hey honey, turn on a fan or something, and check on that roast," Joseph said to Samantha. "I'll go check on Lizzie."
While his wife went to search for a fan to blow the pot smoke out of the house, Joseph started his climb up the stairs to their bedroom. The second he got to the door of the baby's room, he could hear his wife downstairs, screaming. Suddenly filled with concern, he rushed to his baby's crib, and pulled away her blanket.
Under the bklanket was the meat from their freezer, still partly frozen
~ENNDDDDDDDDDDD im getting so tired of doing this gonk ~
Welcome to Ravenholm
You enter Ravenholm through a mining shaft, and as you step out into the cool night breeze, you find yourself at the top of long, wide patch of grass, leading down to a wooden shack with a light on inside.
The "Ravenholm" sign is bent and thrown to the ground, and if you take a glance down the path to the left (leads to a dead end) you'll see a nice trail of blood. Halfway down the green is a damaged child's play slide, with blood smeared over the ground and on the slide itself. There's something attached a to a tree outside the shack; it's tied by roped, and looks like a tire swing sideways on.
You draw closer and hear a crude snort to your left - you spin around and switch your flashlight on; 'oh shxt, zombie!'
After you're done riddling the corpse with sub-machine gun bullets (which you'll shortly regret when you realise that ammo for the SMG is scarce in Ravenholm) you shine your flashlight over to the "tire", to discover that it is in fact a pair of severed legs and the bottom of a waist swaying gently in the breeze (you can have a fun game of pinata with the crowbar, batting these legs back and forth, if they don't make you feel too sick).
When you're ready to move on, you smash your way through the wooden barricades on the outside of the shack and enter a room, welcomed by a grizzly sight.
Pinned to the wall you are facing by a massive saw blade is the upper half of a zombie's lifeless corpse - infact as you draw closer, you see that the saw blade is so huge, that the upper half of the corpse is resting on top of the sawblades (perhaps the legs we've just bashed around belong to this man?).
On the wall are a dozen more saw blades; 2 in particular block the exit to a larger room within the shack, with plenty more gore inside. Using the gravity gun, you remove the two saw blades dropping your path, and pull out your SMG.
Inside this new room are half a dozen zombies that seem to be dead, and several headcrabs lie motionless on the ground.
You step forward and disturb the headcrabs - you run into the middle of the room, mashing the headcrabs with SMG bullets, smug at the fact you survived the ambush.
You realise there's only one magazine left for your SMG.
Your shooting has disturbed the zombies, now.
As they all stir, one picks itself up from sitting with his back against the wall, and moans in agony. He screams and you're sure you can hear "Help me!" from under the headcrab hosting the body.
As you back into the corner, of the room, furthest from both exits (both exits were blocked by stirring corpses), all of the zombies are now on their feet, screaming, moaning, crying in pain, shambling towards you.
As you remember that all you have left is a crappy little pistol and 45 SMG bullets, you wish you hadn't wasted 4 magazines on one zombie and a few headcrabs...
You take a deep gulp and pull the trigger.
~END ALL-FRIKEN-READY!!~
a young man was walking through the woods when he came upon a small cottage with a beautiful young woman with a red ribbon around her neck swinging outside. stricken with her he called out but she said nothing so he left. he came back for a several days after that but each time he tried to talk to her she wouldn't say anything just watch him. finally one day he goes to the house and the young woman is facing the opposite way on the swing. he walks up behind her and whispering sweet nothings he unties the ribbon only to have her head fall off. he ends up dying of fright....
~END scream RIBBONS ARE EVVVIIILLL XD~
HEHHEHEHHE......CRAP ITS STILL IN ALL CAPS xd
~I WONDER IF I STILL PUT END.....~
This is a story that was inspired by my dream.
So, I woke up in the back of a pick-up truck.
It was rusty and red, and I could see through the tinted back window
that a man was driving the truck.
I looked behind me, and watched a small blue car wind
down the road, on our tail.
I didn't know what to think of the blue car,
but I suddenly felt a wave of fear wash through my body.
I was terrified of this strange blue car.
Why was this person following us?
Better yet, who was driving the car?
I felt relieved to realize that it was my older brother
at the wheel.
We pulled into our driveway, and
seeing the daily buzzing of life in our small neighborhood
kept me sane.
I walked into our small two-story house,
and my brother informed me that the rest of our family was upstairs,
watching TV in our parents' room.
I said, "Okay." And sat on our couch.
I couldn't shake this feeling that someone was following me.
After a lot of thinking, I came to the conclusion that this person was coming to kill me.
All the lights were off in our house, except for our porch light that gave off a dim, red light.
[I don't know why all the lights were off. x) ]
Behind me was a large window, and I turned to look out into the street.
What I saw disturbed me:
It was me.
Perfectly normal, wearing my favorite pair of jeans and tee-shirt.
Except~
I had no face.
I feel like this dream had some deeper meaning...
I mean, if you think about it, it was me trying to kill..
me..
So, it's like suicide.
But I don't know.
x]
I don't know if this is a scary dream.
But I was scared when I woke up.
~END I GUESs.......~
Taken from scary stories to tell in the dark, i was scared of Scarecrows after this. ;___;
When it got hot in the valley, Thomas and Alfred drove their cows up to a cool, green pasture in the mountains to graze. Usually they stayed there with the cows for two months. Then they brought them down to the valley again.
The work was easy enough, but, oh, it was boring. All day the two men tended their cows. At night they went back to the tiny hut where they lived. They ate supper and worked in the garden and went to sleep. It was always the same.
Then Thomas had an idea that changed everything. "Let's make a doll the size of a man," he said. "It would be fun to make, and we could put it in the garden to scare away the birds."
"It should look like Harold," Alfred said. Harold was a farmer they both hated. They made the doll out of old sacks stuffed with straw. They gave it a pointy nose like Harold's and tiny eyes like his. Then they added dark hair and a twisted frown. Of course they also gave it Harold's name.
Each morning on their way to the pasture, they tied Harold to a pole in the garden to scare away the birds. Each night they brought him inside so that he wouldn't get ruined if it rained.
When they were feeling playful, they would talk to him. One of them might say, "How are the vegetables growing today, Harold?" Then the other, making believe he was Harold, would answer in a crazy voice, "Very slowly." They both would laugh, but not Harold.
Whenever something went wrong, they took it out on Harold. They would curse at him, even kick him or punch him. Sometimes one of them would take the food they were eating (which they both were sick of) and smear it on the doll's face. "How do you like that stew, Harold?" he would ask. "Well, you'd better eat it - or else." Then the two men would howl with laughter.
One night, after Thomas had wiped Harold's face with food, Harold grunted.
"Did you hear that?" Alfred asked.
"It was Harold," Thomas said. "I was watching him when it happened. I can't believe it."
"How could he grunt?" Alfred asked. "He's just a sack of straw. It's not possible."
"Let's throw him in the fire," said Thomas, "and that will be that."
"Let's not do anything stupid," said Alfred. "We don't know what's going on. When we move the cows down, we'll leave him behind. For now, let's just keep an eye on him."
So they left Harold sitting in a corner of the hut. They didn't talk to him or take him outside anymore. Now and then the dolled grunted, but that was all. After a few days they decided there was nothing to be afraid of. Maybe a mouse or some insected had gotten inside Harold and were making those sounds.
So Thomas and Alfred went back to their old ways. Each morning they put Harold out in the garden, and each night they brought him back into the hut. When they felt playful, they joked with him. When they felt mean, they treated him as badly as ever.
Then one night Alfred noticed something that frightened him. "Harold is growing," he said.
"I was thinking the same thing," Thomas said.
"Maybe it's just our imagination," Alfred replied. "We have been up here on this mountain too long."
The next morning, while they were eating, Harold stood up and walked out of the hut. He climbed up on the roof and trotted back and forth, like a horse on its hind legs. All day and all night long he trotted like that.
In the morning Harold climbed down and stood in a far corner of the pasture. The men had no idea what he would do next. They were afraid.
They decided to take the cows down into the valley that same day. When they left, Harold was nowhere in sight. They felt as if they had escaped a great danger and began joking and singing. But when they had gone only a mile or two, they realized they had forgotten to bring the milking stools.
Neither one wanted to go back for them, but the stools would cost a lot to replace. "There really is nothing to be afraid of," they told one another. "After all, what could a doll do?"
They drew straws to see which one would go back. It was Thomas, "I'll catch up with you," he said, and Alfred walked on toward the valley.
When Alfred came to a rise in the path, he looked back for Thomas. He did not see him anywhere. But he did see Harold. The doll was on the roof of the hut again. As Alfred watched, Harold kneeled and stretched out a bloody skin to dry in the sun.
~END-FULLY-IES~~~~
Ok, this is a dream I had twice. It's hard to explain why it's eerie, but it is. Like those dreams you have when everything looks kind of fine, but you can sense danger and your heart starts to burn because it's beating so fast. Like a pump of adrenaline.
Also, if you've ever been to Palm Springs California, you'll know that it is ALMOST in the middle of nowhere. Barely any hills and such, everything is just flat land with second hand, run down or closed shops and buildings, and at night, it's really dark and spooky. Well, I'm weird and whenever I visit my grandparents, I feel like I'm in a Courage the Cowardly Dog episode---It's creepy because you feel 'alone'. That's how I felt in this dream. . . .
It always starts out with me slowly, but crystal clearly stealing my dad's truck. I drive own unfamiliar and vacant streets on a cloudy and tinted-blue early morning--I always end up in the same place, but in the beginning, I'm just running away to 'somewhere' with my dad's car.
Everything around me was slick and wet because it starts raining. I pull up to this driveway to a building that looks like a very small apartment complex, but as I walked up to the Manager's door, a paper sign taped to the door said 'Motel'. This is when the run-down-middle-of-nowhere-alone feeling started. I opened the door, and walked in. The carpet was that obnoxious off-salmon-reddish-pink color, and it smelled like new . The whole place smelled like fresh paint--The walls perfectly white.
I turned a corner. "Hello?" i said. A chubby middle aged man and his obvious wife came out of the kitchen (That was only 4 feet wide and 12 feet deep into a wall with no fridge, there was a fridge outlet, and no stove, there was a stove outlet too). "Welcome." they said. They showed me to the living room two feet away, and there were 6 or 7 pure-white lawn chairs and a Large tv on an end table of some sort.
That was it. The only furniture in the whole downstairs besides a pure white radiator in the corner. Creepy. "It's movie night" the woman said. She was very plain--Light blonde curly hair and light grey sweat-pants and a matching hoodie. The man was wearing a dark but not scary looking suit. Just a regular middle aged couple.
So, when the movie started, no popcorn or snacks, just me in between the overly amused couple who owned the 'Motel'. The movie was something I've never heard of, with actors I've never seen before, and it was really cheesy, not in a funny way. Like, in a "Oh my god, where am I?!" kind of way.
When the movie was over, I asked to see my room. "They're all vacant. Choose the one you like the most!" the woman said with bulging eyes and a huge smile with an eerie silence of staring at me. I soon found that that was a stupid statement, because, like downstairs, all the rooms (only 5 rooms) were exactly the same. Small, plain and no furniture except for mis-matching lamps with no shades--just the bare lightbulb. No bed or blankets or anything. Not even a friggin' window.
I was so tired, and scared that my dad might find me with his car, so I decided to make a make-shift cushion and pillow with my sweater and over-coat. In the middle of the night, as usual, I had to pee, so I got up. The only bathroom was downstairs so I walked down and did my business.
Then I noticed something: Only 5 rooms upstairs, no rooms downstairs, and the owners were gone.All 4 other rooms upstairs were dark and very empty. It was so quite it scared me. Badly. I ran upstairs because I am terrified of being alone in the middle of no where with no adults around.
I did something stupid, on my way back to my room, I saw a second staircase leading to a third story or attic (The thing is, it looks like a two story complex on the exterior) and thought that the owners might be up there.
I went up and opened a small door. It was so strange what happened next, so read carefully, this is really hard to explain:::
I stepped into the third story room. Actually, it was more of what used to be a room. The whole ceiling and most of the walls were black and charred. I could see the cloudy morning sky above me, and it was sprinkling. I looked shockingly at my surroundings: charred everything. There was what appeared to be shelves on what was left of the walls, with singed pictures of people that looked familiar, but they had such scary faces that I jumped when looking at them.
Then, turning a corner, I saw the two owners sitting on two perfectly white chairs in the middle of the rubble siting VERY still and looking straight ahead, their knees perfectly aligned, their hands folded on their laps in unison. Their eyes were huge and bulged and there mouths were open so wide, I could see at least 4 inches of their gums on the top and bottom of their top and bottom teeth. It was terrifying!! I pushed them away, and they fell of the chairs, still in their previous form, and boggled around on the floor before settling, as if they were hollowed out, cheapy-plastic decorations.
I was so frightened that I jumped from my building, went unpainfully through the roof of my dad's truck and sped down the street, the lonley street, away from that 'Motel'. I looked in the rear view mirror to see the building, it didn't look like it had a burning top, it was just the way I saw it when I had first arrived. It was also night time again. And as I drove further and further away, I saw it in the distance in front of me. It was the only building in sight. I gasped and looked behind me to see just plain desert. I whipped around fast and saw the couple, not much bigger than dots, and they seemed to be wavy at my oncoming car. Welcoming me once more.
~END omg i added another story! xD~
Quote:
Okay I haven't posted this story because even though things worked out okay I was terrified and thinking about how she looked and how I felt makes me feel the same way when I remember it.
I lived in the second oldest house in my area near Waco, Texas, from when I was about 11 until I was 18. I don't know the significance of this really but I feel it’s the only possible explanation for any supernatural presence. I'm not sure when the house was originally built but the rest of the houses around mine were built in the 40s and 50s so I supposed it’s older than that.
The house seemed normal when we first moved in. Only two families had lived there over the years so it wasn't like there was a high turnover rate. In fact no one really noticed or mentioned anything supernatural with the house.
However, there was a "secret room." This room was actually a selling point for my parents to help us deal with moving. Even though my dad was in the military we had lived at our past house for quote awhile and didn't want to move. So of course when my parents said there was a secret passage connecting one of the possible bedrooms with a secret room we became excited about the new house. My sister and I fought for it but I won because the other bedroom already had flower wallpaper up. When I first saw my room I went straight to the closet to see the "Secret door."
The secret door wasn't really secret, it was right in the back of the closet and plain to see. However it was a lot smaller than any normal door. Even when I was only 11 or 12 I had to squat down to get in. It looked like it was made for a child to use.
Another interesting thing was that the door handle was not really built into the door, it was just a handle added as an afterthought. This made me think it was originally just some sort of attic or crawl space door and not meant for a room. The door was lockable by key from my side of the door, the other side had no handle or keyhole. When you open the door there’s a very small hallway which is the same height as the door and not really fit for an adult, but it’s just a few feet long and then you get into the room.
The room was just an empty room added above the garage of the house. There was no way out except for the "secret passageway" to my closet. There were no windows, one light with a string used to turn it on hanging from the ceiling, and the room was completely white with seemingly new wallpaper. There was no furniture or anything left in the room from the previous owners, in fact I don't think the previous owners used it at all. I believe it was sealed before or soon after they moved in and wasn't touched since then, since it was pretty dusty, but who knows. The lock did seem very old and had a hard time moving as if it was rusted or the wood was warped or something.
Now my parents thought the room could be me and my sister's own little toy room or whatever when they first saw it, but after moving in they had second thoughts. I'm not sure what it was but they said it was because they wouldn't be able to hear us if we got hurt in that room since it was so detached from the rest of the house. Of course since we wanted our own secret room so badly they gave in, but said that we had to tell them when we were playing in there and we had to keep the door to my room, my closet, and the secret room open at all times when we were there. So we went on and like I said earlier nothing much really supernatural happened in the rest of the house, and not even too much in the "secret room," at least not to me.
My sister began having an imaginary friend. Whenever I wasn't in there I could hear her talking and whispering to someone. I noticed that although at first she used to have fun in there that as time went on she kind of seemed sadder when she was in there. However up until now this could all be coincidence so I didn't give it much thought.
The only weird things that happened with me was at night I thought I could hear some sort of scratching on the walls behind my room, except it wasn't really with fingernails it was softer sounding. It wasn't on the door, but coming from inside the room.
Now I believe that I only heard this at night because it was quiet at night, and the scratching rubbing sound was so soft that you normally couldn't hear it. I really had no idea what it was, I told my dad once and he looked around for some animal but couldn't find any so we just forgot about it and I lived with it. Like I said it was so soft it never really bothered me. It could be some far off tree rubbing against the house for all I knew. This rubbing happened consistently but like I said I never paid it much mind, at least until my sister went into the room one night.
She knew about the rubbing too and never really said anything about it. One night though, probably about a year or so after moving into the house, the rubbing was going on as usual. I was in that limbo before falling to sleep when I thought that someone was in my room and unlocking the closet door. I thought it might have been a dream but I looked around and saw my door and closet door open, so I got up to check it out. I was a little scared but I realized it was probably mom or dad checking out the rubbing sound since I told them it still happened sometimes. I turned the light on in my closet and looked in. I saw a figure sitting in the room facing the wall. Now even when I was a kid, I had been pretty brave. I was still scared since I was pretty young, but I knew that you can't just run or you'll never know. I said "Hello?" and I heard "She wanted me to see" in what sounded like my sister's voice. The light was in the middle of the room, and it was tough taking even those few steps to get to it in the middle of that dark room. But like I said, I couldn't just leave so I just went there and turned it on. When I looked at the figure, it was indeed my sister, sitting and scratching at the wall paper. I touched her and she was crying so I pulled her up and took her out of the room. I'm really glad that I didn't just lock the door and run or else she'd be stuck in there all night (this is one reason why I never run away from anything abnormal). I locked the door, took her to her room and watched her as she went to sleep. I really thought she could've been sleepwalking or something although she never had before, and since it was over I didn't want to wake up my parents. I went back to sleep.
The next day I asked my sister in the morning if she remembered going into the room and she looked freaked out. I told her she was probably just sleep walking but she said that "the girl" asked her to come look at her pictures. She didn't start crying but she was about to because she was so scared. I didn't ask who "the girl" was. I told her it was just a dream and went to prove it. She didn't want to enter the room again so I went in and saw where she was scratching on the wall. Only a little bit was scratched away, so I started peeling some more wallpaper off. Under the wallpaper were different pictures drawn in what looked like crayon. They were typical kid pictures of mainly cats, and houses, however there was one picture that I thought was weird.
It was a little girl, a cat, a mom, and a dad. Now everything looked like a normal kid family portrait, except the dad had no face. It was just a circle. Of course my rational side said she just never finished it. But still the dad picture looked strangely out of place, like the lines were distorted like she had trouble drawing it. Anyway I told my parents and they yelled at me for pulling back the wallpaper. I didn't want my sister to get in trouble so I didn't say anything about her or what happened last night. My parents said we had to get it fixed now and were mad, and didn't let me play in there again as punishment. The whole thing still seemed normal to me. Kid draws on wall, parents put wall paper up to cover it up. I didn't realize until later that night when the scratching rubbing sound started up, that it sounded like a crayon. I really started thinking that it was "the girl" that my sister talked about was drawing on the wall.
Now after this happened, I started believing that the girl was actually in there. Once I started acknowledging her presence, weirder things began to happen. It happened really slowly. I was about 14 or 15 after the episode with my sister, and the weird things were happening slowly over the course of the next years I lived in the house up until I was 18. The changes were so subtle that I didn’t really notice that they were happening until much later. The drawing sounds increased a little bit and soon were audible even during the day. I also started hearing little pattering of feet. The more I heard these things the more emotional I felt about them. I started feeling angry the more I heard the sounds, especially when I was trying to sleep. However I always managed to control myself and try to think that this girl was obviously sad and just trying to have fun and I calmed myself down. However this was going on so long that I finally asked my sister when I was about 16.
I asked her if she ever heard the sounds. She said that she did, although they were pretty quiet. Now I didn’t think this was so weird since obviously I could hear them too, and I told her how annoying it was. She kind of looked at me as if she was hurt, and said that every time she heard the sounds she felt really sad. She had trouble talking about it, but I told her this is pretty important since it’s going to affect the rest of my years left in the house. She told me that “the girl” was the girl that she used to talk to when she played in the room. She didn’t know her name, but they used to play together. She said she looked just like a little girl about her age so they had fun together. However, as my sister got older, the little girl seemed to get older too, except very unnaturally. It was subtle at first but soon she began hating seeing her. She said she looked as if she “shouldn’t have been alive anymore.” I didn’t really know what this meant. My sister said she wore the same dress the whole time, even when the girl grew out of it. I asked her why she went into the room that one night to find the pictures, and she said she really didn’t want to but the girl made her feel so sad and she’d do anything to help her out. However this still freaked her out and I didn’t ask anymore questions.
Things got worse every night, and I hated hearing that sound. I was so mad that she wouldn’t just shut up so I could sleep. The weird thing was I was scared at the same time, since I knew that whatever it was in there wasn’t actually alive anymore. What also freaked me out was that the sound didn’t annoy my sister, but I guess she had more tolerance than I did.
I asked my parents who used to live here, and they said a family with two sons. Of course this didn’t have anything to do with the room, since they had it locked off the entire time they were there. So I asked if they knew anything about the family before them. They said the original owners were the ones who had the house built and that they didn’t know much about them, except that they had a daughter who died when she was 11. I asked if they knew how she died, but they said it was some sort of accident, so it wasn’t murder or child abuse or anything. I also asked if she died in the secret room, but they said they didn’t think so. I really think that this was the girl in the room, although I have no idea why she inhabited it still.
Once I knew this I sort of had an idea with what I was dealing with. Last year was when things got the worst. I heard almost constant drawing and her jumping around inside the room. The footsteps sounded heavier and were louder. If I ever heard it I’d pound on the door to the room and she’d stop immediately, but I’d hear soft whimpering or crying. She’d also start drawing again later on. Sometimes I’d scream at her to shut up. I really got mad every time it happened since it had been going on for 6 years. However, I knew that I had to do something about this. I was a lurker by this time so I’ve read a lot of ghost story threads, and I remembered how p***y most of the goons were regarding ghosts and never checked anything out. So I knew that I had to at least understand what was going on exactly, and if possible end it. I didn’t really have a plan but I knew I had to see the girl or talk to her or something.
Last year, shortly before I turned 18, my parents went away for the weekend, so I took the key to the secret room from their room (they kept it ever since locking it that day when I took off the wallpaper). I was determined to see her so I stayed up expecting to hear sounds. I couldn’t hear anything so soon I just fell asleep. It was about 1 am when I woke up to a loud bang, like someone jumped or fell. I heard her footsteps afterwards and of course the drawing. The first thing I felt before any fear was pure anger. I hated that she woke me up, even though this was what I wanted. I immediately grabbed the key and went to the door. I was pounding on it as I said “That’s it!” and unlocking the door. The sounds stopped and I heard whimpering. I threw open the door and this was the first time I saw the room in years.
The light coming from my room illuminated a figure in the room, much like when I saw my sister years earlier. This was when I began to feel a wave of different emotions. I was really angry, really scared, yet I also knew that I had to do this and remain calm. I went into the room and stood a few feet away from the figure which was standing in the corner. I turned on the light. What I saw was probably the most horrific sight I could probably have ever even thought of in my entire life. Any horror movie monster had nothing on how unnatural the girl looked.
I finally realized why my sister described her in such a weird way. Her body was taller than she should have been. Her limbs were so lanky and bony and stretched like she kept growing past how tall she should have been. She was wearing a really small dress, and it was really tight on her body. Her face looked as if her head had continued to grow but her face had not. The skin was stretched and the eyes were sunk back into her head yet wide open and her small, childlike teeth were exposed since her lips were stretched back with the rest of her face. Her hair was down to her waist; her face had tears streaming down. I took all of this in in just a moment, and as soon as we met eyes she let out a wail as if she was crying and moaning at the same time. It wasn’t a loud wail like most people describe ghosts, it was pretty soft and it was as if she was in terrible pain, but I couldn’t tell her expression since her face was so unnatural and stretched.
As soon as I heard the wail all the anger in my body was overcome by fear and I ran. I wish I could say I ran for a video camera, but I just ran. I know I’ve been talking about how much I hate when people don’t investigate things but I was so terrified that I ran. Once I got out of my room I ran to my car and drove away and spent the night at a friend’s house. Once I realized what happened I was in a cold shiver and scared out of my mind for the entire night. I was too scared to go back home until my parents came home.
I waited until they came back on Sunday, and then I came over. They asked me why I took the key and left the closet door open and I just told them I wanted to see if I could sell any of my old toys on eBay. I took one last look in the room and locked the door. Ever since then nothing happened. I don’t know why things stopped, but I’m always hoping its not because I “let her out” like in the Ring or something and that she’s really evil. Since nothing has happened since then I do really hope that I helped her out in some way, but in all honesty I don’t care. My parents moved after I went to college, and I have no intention of ever going back. I came up with a theory that the male family member in her life was really mean to her and hated her playing in there, and possibly beat her, while the female family member always felt sad (hence my sister, and the girls willingness to open up to her first). Anyway like I said that’s just all theory but it kind of makes sense. This all happened last year, and the more I think about it the harder it is to remember. Sorry for typing such a long post, I didn't realize I had this much to tell.
~END (not meeeeee)
Driving home from a friends house, you sit at a red light when you hear a familiar tone from your phone, sitting in the passenger seat. A text message. Probably from your friend; you always leave things at their (er its fini
 Your Execution · Tue Sep 16, 2008 @ 06:24pm · 1 Comments |
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