Time for Some Scary Stories
by bdhesse
Halloween is right around the corner. What is your favorite Halloween/horror story?
This is mine:
“It sat on my shelf, with thoughtless porcelain eyes and the prettiest pink doll dress I could find. Why did she have to be born still?”
Found here: http://thoughtcatalog.com/michael-koh/2013/07/40-freaking-creepy-ass-two-sentence-stories/
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I’ll scare everyone this Halloween, I’ll act like a normal person!
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Not bad. The syntax is good, which gives you a leg up on about 99% of all other creepypasta-style writers out there. Here’s one I came up with last year:
“I can no longer sleep at night because of the man in my closet. It’s not that I’m afraid or anything, but I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to bear the stench before I have to bury him in the yard with the rest.”
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Hands down most scary ghost story. M.R. James – ‘Whistle and I’ll come to you.’ It terrified me!
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An excerpt to the story I am working on:
I was practicing to read properly with the guidance of Nana that day in my room. I was reading the last paragraph of this Disney story, “and they lived happily–,” and as I blinked for a moment everything became white.
The walls. White.
The floor. White.
Everything. Gone.
Nana. Gone.
It was just me sitting on a white chair with an open blank book in my hands. The book’s pages were falling perpetually, and rapidly, but the book didn’t look like it was losing pages. The floor was covered with blank pages of the book.
There was a man in black who was as big as my thumb from afar. He was approaching my location. I couldn’t visually perceive his face; it was somehow blurred out. He has approached my location within a second. I had no idea what just happened. I was not able to move a single muscle in my body. My eyes were all wide opened when he spoke “Hello, my son.” I was so shocked I didn’t say anything back. His face was still nothing, but a blur. I could see that he has put a smirk on his blurred out face. “How are you?”
I stared at him, observing from head to toe. He looked old, with veins and wrinkled skin on his arms. He was tall, about five-feet-eleven. The man’s skin was a camouflage-like with white-and-tan spots on them.
I finally broke out from my vociferous silence.
“I am impeccably okay,” I was trying to sound professional as possible for a six-year-old kid. “How do you do, kind sir?” I somehow managed to smile at him for no reason.
“Do you know who I am?”
“No, sir,” a naive reaction was on my face. I immediately thought he was my dad. The grin on my face has been replaced with a grimace. “Let me be dreaming,” I mumbled.
“You should know who I am, John,” his body size began to shrink. “Queers are forbidden, and a big sin in the eyes of God.”
“How did you–,” his blurred out face quickly became crystal clear before my eyes. His aged body became as young as mine. The spots on his camouflage-like skin were gone. He looked like me. “Let me be dreaming!” I clamorously repeated with my eyes closed. I opened my eyes. He was me.
I stood up, and ran toward nowhere. I could see ‘me’ everywhere I looked. Duplicated. I saw myself multiplying every second. They were all staring at me. I was running faster. Their stares were chasing me. I ran faster toward nowhere. They were walking toward me. It felt like I was not moving at all.
I screamed.
My voice echoed.
Later that I figured out I was surrounded by big mirrors. From left to right, front and back. Everything was made out of mirrors. I was still running to this endless track.
I screamed once again.
Then, every single mirror exploded. Its pieces were everywhere. It was raining broken mirrors ceaselessly. The sound of falling broken mirrors was blaring. My ears were bleeding.
The floor abruptly vanished. I was falling. The gravity was pulling me down with its greatest power. Every single piece of the broken mirrors was slicing my arms, my legs, my body–some were sharply piercing into my body. I was falling endlessly.
I aroused.
I felt bombarded.
READ IT HERE: http://wp.me/p4ZbXP-1p
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