Spooky
Screams that echo, that scar, but no longer sound.
Pulses beat, but are drowned out by blood stained hands.
On that ledge, I look down, daring myself to fall. From my perch,
Only I see the cries that fill the alleys, only I get the chance to ask myself why? But then again, why breathe down the backs of unsuspecting, stained souls?
Knives rise, but don't deliver, clattering on on ground undeserving of any care or notice, owners already, whisked away, by their own urge to hurry.
Yells rise, thieves race, stopped in a hurry, by my cold, you'll-never-forget-it embrace.
The Burning Candle
The house stood silent at the edge of town, abandoned for years. Every night, a single candle flickered in the upstairs window, though no one seemed to live there. One cold evening, Sarah dared to approach.
She pressed her ear to the door and heard faint whispers, like a conversation from another world. Curiosity pulled her inside.
Within, the whispers grew louder, a low shrieking filling the air. The walls trembled. Shadows moved without light. She turned to flee, but the door was gone. In its place stood a mirror, her reflection grinning back.
And then, the candle went out.
Cardinal Sin
The full moon thickens the blood— its gravitational ache lingers in the ears, throbbing, muting the clatter of a ceiling fan, the rain pelting a fifth-floor balcony’s glass door, and the explosion of porcelain shattering against skull.
Crawling, scratching, fleeing, his slut seeks liberation. Pathetic!
The voices grow clearer, always whispering in the dark, luring me further from the light, but they’re never wrong.
“Give her wings, and she’ll fly,” they insist. “He deserves better. HE DESERVES YOU.”
Her scream gurgles, choking on coagulation. I oblige them.
The babbling stops. His precious angel descends from heaven, carved with fresh wings.
Laughter
A wind howled through the cracked windows of the old house, carrying whispers from the past. Sarah stepped inside, drawn by something she couldn't name. Shadows twisted along the walls as if alive, watching her. A child's laughter echoed from the darkness. Her heart raced.
"Who is there?" she called, her voice trembling.
The laughter stopped.
Suddenly, small, cold hands gripped her legs. She looked down, but nothing was there. Panic surged as a soft voice whispered in her ear, "You should never have come back."
The door slammed shut behind her, sealing her in with the house’s hungry secrets.
Whispers from the Shadow.
The whispers started at midnight, soft at first, then louder, like dry leaves scraping across the floor. Claire froze in bed, clutching her blankets. She'd locked the door. No one was inside.
But something was.
A shadow slid from beneath the wardrobe, stretching tall, eyes gleaming red in the darkness. It grinned, its mouth wide, teeth sharp as broken glass.
"You shouldn’t have opened the box," it hissed, voice like a blade on bone.
Claire’s heart raced. She tried to scream but her throat tightened.
The last thing she felt was its cold breath on her skin.
Then a silence.
This is not the first time
I have pages of notes delineating dreams I've had. Vivid, feels-real-how-is-this-a-dream-thank-God-this-is-a-dream-type dreams. Some of these dreams have led to feelings of déjà vu in daily life and cold fear as my subconscious reacts to a memory of something that did not happen.
As I write this, the water is spilling into the tunnel around me. People are running, screaming.
Stay, or run?
The first body just floated by.
I hear the sounds of steel bending, cement blocks exploding.
Now, it is dark. It won't be long.
If you read this, find my notes.
This is not the first time I've---
Dire Education
The dorm party ends. Madison tells her roommate, “Gotta get something from my car.” Shelby replies, “Be safe.” Madison assures her, “I will.”
On a side street, the imposing figure’s approach doesn’t deviate. Madison reminds herself, “Stay calm, breathe. Project confidence.”
“You shouldn’t be out here alone this late.” Madison’s arms instinctively extend. The struggle is brief, with no time to scream for help.
Licking the corners of her mouth, Madison smirks. She internalizes, “Shelby doesn’t know how fortunate she is I happened upon this innocent donor tonight. With my bloodlust satiated, she can live for now. But come midterms…”
The Vampire Slayer
Trembling, I approached the coffin. The suffocating smell of death and decay hung heavy in the room.
I gripped the wooden stake tightly, willing my hands to stop shaking.
The vampire within lay motionless, but I could feel the evil energy radiating from its body.
I raised the stake above my head and plunged it into its chest.
The creature's eyes flew open, red like burning coals. It began to laugh, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth.
Why didn't it work?? The priest said it would work!
"He lied" the creature rasped, reading my thoughts, and lunged for my throat.
The Cliffs of Ta’har
No mists rolled over the cliff’s edges; no bird calls echoed in the night. It was only Terence under the moon. He dragged his feet through dew-dropped grass, edging closer, wishing once again he wasn’t alone. He reached an arm out over the dark edge, watching his fingers tremble, then steady, until they were steel. His heartbeat slowed with resolve and then it called out to him.
“There is a rumour that, if you come to the Cliffs of Ta’har at a certain time, on a certain day, there is a devil that will hold your hand as you jump.”
Siren Paralysis
I felt it reaching out, straight into my mind.
I couldn't control it, such long talons morphing to become one with the crevasses of my brain.
She could see each morbid thought passing through my mind, each idea of escape. Pain, similar to a screwdriver through a skull.
Why am I not in control of myself?
She looked at me, eyes empty. A void, a sold soul.
Her screech was like no other, it was not aloud, it just pierced my mind.
I feel that she is suffering too.
Here I am paralyzed.
There is nothing scarier than losing control.