Hell Gone Corporate
Sure, the book happened to be in my seat. I found the book, but I didn't find it. It was placed on the plane meticulously. It was part of my fate. As the book explains, we all have a fate. Mine is to visit the realm of the living to see what kind of horror humans are making on their own. I then take that information to Hell's main office, so they can make ‘improvements’ to the punishments and general awfulness of the place. Hell still finds a way to be less bad than living for me. No wars or discrimination, everyone is treated like shit. Even the billboards they added recently aren't as unhinged as some on the sides of freeways or toll roads. It's incredible humans aren't the Demons, and Earth isn't Hell. Sorry, I didn't mention what the book is called, did I? It's a leatherbound copy of On a Pale Horse. Thing is, what I see in Hell isn't what anyone else sees. Everyone sees what has been determined to be the correct level of bad for them. I have to continue returning to Earth because it's my own personal hell. That's also why Hell looks very corporate to me. Its appearance has changed over my existence here. I've been part of Hell so long, it once looked like polluted Victorian England during the height of the industrial revolution. It has evolved to match whatever the most heinous human setting is at current ever since. I don't remember my human life anymore, yet it haunts me. Next time I get on the plane, I won't touch the book. Funny how the others in Hell think anything can scar me more than They Live. Especially now that I know you could switch aliens for Demons and the premise wouldn't be too far off. The flaw being that a mistake such as allowing humans to get their hands on the special glasses would never happen. Or would it? I don’t know how much of a difference it would make anyway. If anything the Demons in disguise are more sane than the actual people anyway.
One Missed Call
Rework of original:
The victims got a call a week before each of their respective murders. They were told they'd be fine if they never missed a call. With jobs and busy lives this was an impossible task. The first call each missed they got a voice-mail. It explained in gruesome detail what their final moments would entail. Now everyone waits in horror to be the next to get that call, and authorities scramble to find the killer before they miss one call.
Different idea, same name:
Protagonist misses the one call they swore they never would; the one from that friend saying they had hoped they would pick up, but this is goodbye. The one who they were closest to, but who had no other friends. The friend you tell yourself you'll check up on, to make sure their okay, because you know they're depressed. They now blame their self for the friend's passing and spiral. The movie follows them through their grief over one missed call.
The Job I never knew I Needed
I was supposed to follow one of the team members with my camera. We were exploring a haunted asylum, not that I believed that at the time. I was new and all, so I wasn't super familiar with the others. I followed the person I thought I was told to all night. We met back up at the end, and they asked where I had been all night. I was going to point out who I had been following, but they weren't there.
Confused, I told them they could check my footage, but I had been following someone. They all started chatting with excitement about what I must have captured. I was bewildered. Not knowing what had just happened, I answered their excited questions with mumbled "yeah, it was cool, I guess." and "I thought it was a person, so there was no reason to be scared." They told me to leave quickly, and make sure the footage wasn't wiped. Thereafter, we headed home.
I live(d) by myself, yet when I got to my place the door I had locked when I left was open. I searched frantically to see if there had been a burglary, but nothing was missing. It seemed there were some additional items like another toothbrush, toothpaste tube, pair of shoes, and so on. Exhausted, but not wanting to do the necessary steps to go to bed, I plopped on my couch. I eyed the kitchen, as my stomach was a bit rumbly, and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw someone in it pouring milk into a bowl of cereal, before turning around and putting the carton away.
"We didn't mean to scare you." a wispy voice exclaimed in a soft tone. Burying my face in my hands, I tried to process what I was experiencing. I looked back up to see a bowl on my island with a spoon in it. I got up to check for the mysterious person. The bowl had a single Lucky Charms balloon marshmallow in it. I don't like Lucky Charms. Weirder still, there was no milk in the fridge. Figuring I was overtired, I headed to bed.
When I woke up, I headed to the kitchen, eyes glassy. The bowl from before was still there, but it was full of balloon marshmallows. I made the coffee I had come to the kitchen for, and checked my phone while I waited. The team chat was blown up over my footage. They couldn't believe I had captured such a thing at all, let alone my first time. They also had figured out the 'person’ I had followed was a late team member, who had the same name as a current member. Those who had known him had reminisced about their favorite memories with him.
He hadn't believed in ghosts when he joined the group, he just needed money, but no one knew at the time. His first day on location he had wandered off without a camera, when they found him, his face was sunken, and he was sputtering “I believe you!” over and over again. He never told anyone what happened that day, but after that he insisted on eating a bowl of Lucky Charms before going to a haunted location.
My jaw dropped as I read the last message,
“Oh yeah, and the balloons were his favorite. They were always the last thing he ate.” The smell of my coffee brought me back to my senses.
I continue to be unsure what I believe, but I know there’s something after death. Whenever I'm uncertain his presence is more noticeable. Every now and then I hear different voices whisper
“Do you believe?”
Burn at Stake
The flame they light
'tis of devilish intent.
A member of heaven
or Satan's earthly society
The flames know all to well
Around you they engulf
touch you,
Burn you not
Neither Saint nor sinner
You suffer the worst
Scarred
Physically unharmed but
mentally unwind
Each lick
removes
At dusk they begin to see
You alive- not well
But breathing
A witch!
They cry
declare to the night
The rest of days
you suffer
Cleansed of humanity
In the eyes
that claim
your satanic intent
yet they are of a hellish pac(k/t)
Measuring the Immeasurable
I used to think it was time I disliked. It's weird ways of never quite feeling the same. Is a minute a blink or 60 Mississippis? It never made sense that the same measurement could feel different. An inch is an inch, a centimeter a centimeter, a gram a gram. All rulers and scales should measure these equally.
The truth is time is not the villian in this story. Clocks are the antagonist. Time feels weird because of the human error in clock use. "Time moves faster" simply because we don't watch the clock when we're enjoying ourselves. Time isn't to blame for sleep schedules being "bad". Time had nothing to do with when the meeting was or that you were late. The man-made instrument that measures a malleable thing like it's standard is to blame.
My qualms with time were unfounded. It's human error I should have grievances with.
Dead Again
This school is the site of a deadly mass shooting. It happened so long ago the survivors were long gone by the time I got here. I fear the dead will fill these halls again.
The anniversary of the shooting is coming up. It is said the souls of those who died that day return on the day every year it is pertinent. They say if they return it is likely something is amiss. Every time they've returned the school has been closed and research has revealed the closure foiling plans to shoot the school up once more. People are starting to not believe in them.
This is what worries me; the spirits will come in warning, but no one will listen and tragedy will befall this school once more. There will be dead again. I feel it.
They Go Along With It As Far As They Can
I know of a being that only comes out when it rains. You've probably met them and just didn't know it. You know the saying when it rains it pours? Yeah, well this being enacts that sentiment. It rains, they clog drains or get you stuck in the mud. It's all according to their hideous plan. You can't see them because their more of an energy. Willed into being by a general zeitgeist. The imagining of this concept to be true manifests itself in this form. Get to know them why don't ya? They mean you no harm. But if it's raining and you think your day can't get any worse, just remember you've better watch out for their curse.
The Rollercoaster I am Forced to Ride
The first day, exciting yet scary. It's a new beginning, a blank slate. About those I feel the same way. I have nothing to work off of. No foundation to start on. I'm like a wire that isn't grounded. What if I spark? Everything could blow up. I know it won't happen but I worry anyway. Anxiety eats me, hungry. What if... is my enemy. I cannot shake this feeling no matter how hard I try, how much I know it will be fine. This is how these always start. It was so even on the first day of my senior year of high school. I went into it thinking of all the worst case scenarios, it being my first day in person since before the covid lockdown and all. I knew my teachers would be good, of five I had already had three, and I knew the other two were good teachers. I had a free period; six classes was a full schedule. Time came for lunch. I had sat outside of the choir room for lunch previously, but most of the people I would hang with had graduated. I went there and sat in my old place thinking nothing of the open door and my choir teacher inside. She had started at the beginning of the previous school year and up to then I had physically been in the same room as her twice. The choir teacher before her was never there during lunch, so we ate outside of the room because by the time we had access it would have been a waste to move. I expected nothing sitting on the cold floor, the choir room was the basement after all. Someone came to talk to the teacher. I watched, but still thought nothing of the situation. When they were leaving, she noticed be and asked if it was, in fact, me sitting there. I said it was. She told me to come in and sit on the stage (the room is also called the little theater). I was told the floor was far too cold, and I have to agree. This was a good beginning. One I remember quite fondly now. This is what I try to remember when there are firsts. They can turn out just as well as that one did. Sure there's the possibility of a nightmare, but it could always be the kind of first you cherish forever.