Welcome!
Good evening, it’s Spooky Boo over the radio waves in Sandcastle, California. Tonight the moon is full and the fairies dance in the forest to the sound of the witches and their lunar bonfires during the full moon. They’re casting a protection spell over the area to protect the innocent from the hunger of the werewolves who are running crazy as the moon is full for two more nights causing their natural lycan desires to go wild with hunger. Up here in the lighthouse I can barely see the ocean through the thick fog mixed with the rain clouds above but I am safe in my home while I tell you these spooky stories about evil and demons. The perfect combination for the week before Halloween!
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Now let’s begin.
Story One
Dancing with Evil
Scarlett hated being grounded, but with her overprotective mother, it was a common thing. Her mother being an old fashioned lady never let Scarlett stay out past nine o’clock and last week she had gotten in major trouble when she arrived home at 11 pm.
It was a Saturday night and everyone was going out to a huge party downtown. Alyssa, Scarlett’s best friend, called her and insisted she joined her that evening.
“Everyone is going to be there!” Alyssa whimpered when Scarlett said she was grounded. “I have my mom’s car for the night, and I can get you home by midnight. Just tell your mom you’re going to bed early tonight and sneak out your window. It will be easy!”
Scarlett thought this through, and she concluded that she simply could not miss out on the party of the year. Alyssa was one hell of a persuader.
“Alright,” Scarlett said. “Pick me up in an hour.”
This was the first time she ever snuck out. She couldn’t help but feel bad about lying to her mom, but she figured she would get over it.
She looked in the mirror. Her long, dark hair fell at her waist. I can do this, she thought to herself. Though she’d been reluctant at first, the risk of what she was doing now filled her with excitement.
An hour later, Alyssa arrived, according to the plan. Scarlett carefully opened her window and slipped outside, tiptoeing to her friend’s car. When they arrived downtown, it felt like they weren’t even in the right place. The street where the party was supposed to be was disturbingly quiet, and the street lights were either dimmed or shut off completely.
As they slowed down they found a huge place next to an abandoned warehouse. This had to be the party; all the other buildings were dark and empty, but this one was brightly lit, with music booming through the walls. They parked nearby and got out of the car. As they walked up to the entrance, they were surprised to find that there were no doormen or guards standing in front of the entrance. All it had was a raggedy old banner that said “WELCOME” in big, bold letters.
When they went inside, they saw hundreds of people dancing and drinking. The music was extremely loud and pounded through Scarlett’s heart. Alyssa and Scarlett searched for the classmates that had told them they would be there, but they could not find one familiar face. Alyssa, however, did not care, and told Scarlett this was one of the coolest parties she had ever been too. Scarlett wasn’t sure if she was scared or not. Some people’s faces looked warm and kind, like the blond girl who’d waved at them when they first came in. Others looked dark and lifeless, as if they weren’t even really there.
Before she knew it, she had lost sight of Alyssa. She couldn’t find her anywhere. One second she was there; the next, she wasn’t. Starting to panic, Scarlett made her way through the mob of laughing and dancing people. She located the bar and sat in one of the stools. There was no bartender, which was odd, as the people around her had plenty to drink; where had they gotten it all?
She felt uncomfortable and angry at Alyssa for ditching her. Now, all she could do was sit and wait for Alyssa to hopefully come back to her.
It was clear that this party was not the party “everyone was going to.” She figured Alyssa had just made that up to trick her into going. Alyssa had always had unusual friends and often hung out in strange places, so her pulling something like this didn’t surprise Scarlett much. She cursed Alyssa under her breath and just stared off into the dance floor.
Her mind must have been playing tricks on her. She could have sworn that people’s faces would change while they were dancing. It only happened for a fraction of a second, but it seemed that their faces would morph into a disturbing demonic face with big black eyes and a deformed mouth. However, when she would blink, their faces would be back to normal. She didn’t understand; she wasn’t drinking, nor doing drugs. Why would I see these things? she thought, confused. She tried to convince herself it was just her imagination, but the chills were already starting to run down her spine, and she knew that it was no use.
Getting more desperate, she got off the stool and started looking for Alyssa.
“Alyssa!” she screamed. “I need to get the hell out of here! I’m going to kill you for bringing me here!”
She kept yelling, but Alyssa was nowhere to be found. Then all of a sudden, someone shoved her hard, and she toppled to the floor. She didn’t know who did it or if it was an accident, but she was pissed. She wished she was back home in bed.
The lights suddenly dimmed and slow music started to play: a love song she never heard before. Everyone stopped dancing for a moment, getting into pairs before resuming once more.
She heard a deep, but soothing voice call out, “Are you okay?”
She looked up to see a tall, handsome looking man. He was young, maybe 20 years old, and had blond hair and piercing blue eyes. By the look on his face, he was very concerned.
“I’m fine. I, uh, I just fell,” she stuttered. She always did get nervous with handsome men.
He smiled and offered his hand to her, helping her up.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked politely.
How could Scarlett refuse? He was charming. He was sweet. She accepted, and they walked to the centre of the dance floor and started to dance.
“You’re a good dancer,” she let out, flustered.
He just smiled. After dancing for some time, she asked him if he came here a lot.
“You could say that,” he whispered.
Scarlett didn’t quite understand his response, but she kept on dancing.
“You have a pure soul,” he said suddenly, in an eerie, quiet voice.
“Um… thank you?”
She thought this sounded a little creepy, but he seemed so nice otherwise, and she didn’t want to judge.
“I’m not so innocent,” she joked. “I snuck out of the house today, and if my mother finds out, I’m dead.”
“I know,” he mumbled, emotionless.
He looked down, locking eyes with her. Instead of deep blue, they were now almost black. Scarlett figured it was just the lighting, but the expression on his face had changed as well, from friendly and welcoming to cold and sinister. Scarlett suddenly didn’t want to be in his presence anymore.
“Sorry, I better go find my friend now. It was nice dancing with you, but I really have to go.”
She tried to step away but he quickly grabbed her arms, gripping them tightly.
“I know you, Scarlett. I know everything about you.”
As soon as he said those words, the music stopped playing and the lights shut off. It was pitch black and she couldn’t see a thing. He was still holding her and she struggled to get away.
The lights came back on again, but only for about a second. They flickered on and off and she could see that the once handsome blond man was not a man at all. His feet were like that of a goat and his fingers were not fingers, but huge claws. Long, red claws with pointy nails. He had huge horns, and his face was horrible, resembling some sort of goat with red fur and huge black eyes.
The lights kept flickering as his evil grin started to part, and he started laughing hysterically. The most evil, terrifying laughter in the world.
“I am Lucifer,” the thing boomed.
Scarlett was so shocked and scared that she couldn’t even move anymore. She felt liquid running down her neck. When she looked down, she was horrified to find blood. Blood everywhere; on her legs, her beautiful, silken dress and on her hands. Scarlett screamed.
The light shut off once more, this time for almost ten seconds. When they finally turned back on, she was alone, and the place was empty. It was old and dusty, as if no one had stepped foot in it for years. When she turned around, she was horrified to see her friend Alyssa hanging lifeless from the ceiling fan, with blood running down her face. She forced herself to look away, disgusted and a few gags away from throwing up.
That was when Scarlett noticed a horrible burning feeling on her torso. She lifted up her dress to see what was hurting, and there on her stomach, was carved “YOU’RE NEXT”.
Story 2
Pact With the Devil
It all started the day my grandmother died. She was 98 years old, but her age was no factor in her death, like we all assumed it was when we got the call. I had been sitting with my beautiful wife, Christine, and my three children, Anna, Sophie, and Joseph, who were all in their preteen or teenage years, Sophie being the youngest at eleven and Anna being the oldest at fifteen. It was a seemingly ordinary morning in Florida with the bright sun shining through the open windows and the birds chirping happily through our acre of land. Then the phone rang.
“Hello?” I answered.
“John, is that you?” I heard my sister Amanda ask sadly.
“Yeah, it’s me. What’s going on?’
“Grandma’s dead, John, I found her this morning. It was just so awful,” My sister explained between sobs.
I was quiet, unsure of what to say. The awkward silence settled over me and my family, their eyes resting on my face as if they were questioning me already.
“You there? Shit, I don’t know what to do, just come by, please. Help me get her things together.” Amanda begged.
“Alright. Be there in a few,” I replied.
“Oh, and John? Don’t bring Christine or the kids,” she warned, hanging up the phone seconds after.
Her last request was said in a quite unnerving tone, leaving me worried about what I was about to see.
“What’s going on, dear?” Christine asked, sounding concerned.
“Well, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. Grandma June has passed away.”
Christine and Joseph sighed sadly as Sophie burst into tears.
“Shut up, Sophie, everyone dies. It was about time, too, she was so fucking old,” Anna snapped disgustedly.
“Watch your language, young lady!” I yelled at her.
She rolled her eyes and sighed theatrically, storming off to her room, screaming “You’re so damn uptight!” as she slammed the door loudly. Not wanting to deal with her, I said goodbye to my family and started driving toward my grandmother’s house.
When I got there, Amanda was sitting on the porch, her face sickly green. A sharp smell reached my nose as I walked up the steps. When I opened the door, the view shocked me.
My grandmother’s mangled corpse was strewn across the floor in grotesque pieces. Her legs were clawed, the skin hanging off of the flesh, the bones broken like someone had twisted them, small shards stuck in the bloody muscle. Her arms looked similar, except with an odd symbol, like a skull with a rattlesnake twisting through its eye sockets with the tail hanging out of the mouth. And her torso, oh god, I don’t know if I can describe it without getting sick. The stomach looked as if it had been torn out by some creature with large, sharp claws. Her heart had been cut out and sewn to the outside of her ribcage, and the skin had been burned off of her back in the same pattern that had been carved into her arm. The head was sitting on the coffee table facing the large mirror in the living room. Her blank eyes caught my eyes in the mirror; her gaze seemed to follow me wherever I went. Her jaw had been torn out and left on the floor. Shocked, I tried to leave the room, but something caught my eye as I stepped over the deformed torso.
In the gaping hole in my grandmother’s stomach, I found a letter folded into a neat square, unfolding it carefully, afraid of what may have been written on the paper. As I looked down at it, I saw the words “Read my diary if you dare.” in my grandmother’s handwriting, except the letters were a rusty red color. Blood.
I stepped back onto the porch, nervously handing the paper to Amanda silently. She read it aloud in a weak, quavering voice, and then started crying again. I walked back inside, headed toward her room.
The room was a pale green with soft, grey blankets with pastel flowers printed on them neatly folded on the bed, and a large mahogany bookshelf on the back wall. I went to the bookshelf, and after maybe half an hour, found a thick blue notebook with the name June Henderson and the dates 1930-1931 written in silver.
The first month or so chronicled in the diary was normal for a seventeen year old girl, but then things started getting darker. The first entry that had really grabbed my attention was slightly disturbing.
It read as:
Dearest diary,
Today I saw the most charming man. He had black hair and eyes, and pale, radiant skin. Those eyes really seemed to stare straight into my soul when they met my own eyes in the grocery store. I had this feeling, real strange for me, having never been in a rush to be in a relationship, which told me that I would do whatever I could to be with him, even if it destroys the other girls I’m up against.
Weirded out, I kept flipping through the book.
Dearest diary,
The man talked to me! I mean he really talked to me. And he even asked me on a date! Oh, I can’t wait to go out tonight, it’ll be great, I’m so glad no other girls had tried to get in my way, it would’ve been awful for them, with what I would’ve done…
Dearest Diary,
The date was wonderful! His name is Alexander, isn’t that an interesting name? He seemed to understand me, to really know almost everything about me. He seemed strangely interested in me. He even asked me to sign over my soul to him, I couldn’t help but feel happy, so of course I signed it over! The contract just said that I was his and his alone, and there would be severe consequences if I broke the contract, which I found to be a bit odd, considering I didn’t really know what he was talking about.
I felt sickened as I read those particular entries; they really stuck in my mind. Why would my grandmother sign over her soul?
Dearest Diary,
Today, I met another man, and we are very similar. He seems great. I’m just a little afraid to break the news to Alexander. Maybe I don’t have to, though. He wouldn’t know as long as I’m careful, right? I don’t think so. The man I met today had eyes the color of the summer sky and hair the color of golden wheat. His skin is tanned to perfection. I really like Henry.
Dearest Diary,
I was caught by Alexander today. I was writing a letter to my Henry, and he saw it. I had this unexplainable fear when he read it, like I was in some real danger. It made me think back to that silly little contract.
Dearest Diary,
I’m scared. I’ve been staying with Henry now, but Alexander’s words still haunt me. “Just wait, woman, just wait until you’ve near forgotten me, and you think I’m gone out of your life. I’m gonna come back, June, and the day I come back, you’ll be sorry.
I scanned some of her other entries, but they were just normal things about her life with Henry, who was my grandfather. When I was about to close the book, I noticed some writing on the back cover. It was some writing from last night.
Dearest Diary,
I think he’s back. I saw his eyes in the mirror. I saw him standing outside my window. I’ve been seeing him everywhere. I think I signed my soul over to the devil. He made me kill my cat, as if my soul had been in his control. It was so horrible. I buried her in the back yard. I know the devil has found me, and I know I’m not safe. I just wonder why he’s come back now of all times, after 81 years. What will he do to me?
I dropped the book in shock, and then picked it up carefully, sitting it on the shelf, when my eye caught something on the wall. There were words carved onto the wall so lightly I had to squint to see them.
The wall read “I told you I’d come back, June. Your soul will stay with me forever, in hell.”
Story 3
Lucien
by Dgrady237
One night, twenty years ago, I met the devil. I’m sure of it, as sure as I am that I will meet him again someday.
I was just a girl then, no more than twelve years old. It was a summer night, August, in rural New Jersey where my family lived. I woke up a little after midnight to a soft whistling sound coming from outside my window.
I pulled the sheet away and walked to the window in my long cotton t-shirt that I borrowed from my dad. In the summer heat, those over-sized, worn-out t-shirts were all I could stand to wear. I got up close to the window and all I could see was my own reflection.
The window was only open a few inches because my dad had taken the screen out the week before to fix a tear. We didn’t want all kinds of insects flying in and out so we kept it cracked but not wide open. It was hot, but I was always a little afraid of leaving the window all the way open at night, even though I was on the second floor.
I pushed open the window with some effort. Our house was old and the window frames were bloated from the humidity. I pushed with all I had until it slid up suddenly with a jerk and I gasped a little at the abrupt sound. I held my breath, listening for sounds of movement from my parents’ room. Nothing.
I stuck my head out of the window and looked out into the blackness of pine trees and shrubs that surrounded our house. The sound of cicadas was overwhelming and the air was thick with summer heat. I could see one small yellow square of light from a house a mile or so from us. I couldn’t hear the whistling anymore and I suddenly felt silly for going through the trouble to open the old window to begin with.
After standing there for a moment, I started to feel like I was coming out of a dream and thought; perhaps I had been sleep-walking. I wasn’t even sure if I had heard anything at all at that point.
I remember feeling wide awake and alive, excited even. Sometimes you have those moments when everything feels right on track in your life and it seems there is so much to look forward to and there’s almost a physical swelling of the heart. I used to feel like that a lot when I was young, especially in the summer, the magic season for a kid. I don’t ever feel like that anymore. Maybe it comes only with the naiveté of youth; so full of hope and wonder, that it can’t see the black ick of the world surrounding it, waiting to close in.
I felt that hopeful feeling on that August night. I was about to go back to bed, when I heard the sound again. It was whistling. It was a beautiful sound; melodious, complicated, and ever-changing, and my mood changed with it. I was anxious but excited. In hindsight I don’t know why I wasn’t more afraid. The sound of a human whistle floating up from the woods at night seems terrifying now. But I was enchanted.
I looked down eagerly. I was searching for the sound. Finally, I saw the bushes move right on the edge of the tree line in front of my window. The whistling got louder. I giggled at the sound. It filled my head and made me giddy. I started dancing. I remember dancing with my eyes closed and I felt so light. I felt all of my anxiety drift away into the night. All of the images of my parents fighting and my dog when he was really sick right before he died, and getting laughed at in math class when I didn’t know the answer, and all the worries and sadness that I had accumulated in my young life, floated away. I felt wonderful. To this day, I have never felt as happy as I did that night when I danced in my big t-shirt like no one was watching. But someone was.
The whistling stopped and my mad dancing stopped with it. I was panting and sweating and out of breath. I looked at my bedside clock and realized that I had been dancing around like that for nearly an hour. I went to the window and stuck my head out, desperate for a breeze and for that music.
I looked down and saw a boy. He was my age and as pale as the moonlight. He looked up at me with beautiful blue eyes, or hazel, or greenish, maybe even violet. They change every time I picture them. They were the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. He was smiling at me.
“Hello”, he said in a voice almost as beautiful as his whistling.
“H-hello,” I stuttered back at the boy. I suddenly felt absurdly nervous that he may have seen my terrible dancing and would tell everyone in the neighborhood what a tremendous loser I was.
“What’s your name?” he said.
“Um…I’m Olivia. Who—who are you?” I sputtered.
“My name is Lucien. My family and I just moved into an old house down the road. It’s surrounded by so much forest. I’ve been exploring all night. We’re from the city, you see. Do you want to go on an adventure?”
“Now? I’m not allowed out at night,“ I said.
He smiled at that and it was the sweetest smile I had ever seen. I will never forget his face. It was the face of an angel. I already knew I wanted to sneak out and be closer to him, but the idea of leaving in the middle of the night was out of the question. My parents’ door was on the way to the steps and every floorboard on the way creaked. And yet….that smile made me feel safe and wild all at once.
“Come on,” he said. “I have my dog with me, we’ll be safe. Just then a large black dog, bigger than any I’d ever seen came bounding out of the bushes. He looked like my uncle’s mastiff but bigger and with long shaggy black hair. Despite all of that, he wasn’t intimidating. He was playful and ran around with his big pink tongue wagging and happy dog eyes gleaming.
I was delighted at the sight of him. I loved dogs so much and since our old Westie had passed away, I had longed for another friend to fill the empty space.
“See, he likes you. Come here Gorgos! Fetch!” he yelled as he threw a stick into the woods. The dog jumped into the darkness of the woods and all was silent until he jumped back out into the open with stick in his mouth. I covered my mouth as I laughed.
“Alright. I’ll come down to see the dog but we have to be quiet and we can’t go far,” I said.
He flashed a brilliant smile at me as his skin glowed in the moonlight. I grabbed some sneakers and snuck past my parents’ room, missing all the creaks by some stroke of luck.
I opened the backdoor and he was standing there with the dog. They were still as statues. The night was silent. Lucien still had his plastered- on smile but the dog was quiet and had lost all of his puppy-like energy. He looked like a guard dog.
“Olivia. I’m so glad to meet you. I am so eager to get to know the people around here,” he said with a notably adult tone that seemed odd coming from such a young boy. I looked at the dog again who was staring into the distance.
“Would you like to pet him? You can if you want. He won’t hurt you. He’s very obedient. “
“Yes. Sure, I’d love to pet him. I love dogs.” I reached out and gently touched the top of his head. It was surprisingly cold and rough. His fur was very course and he smelled very bad. I didn’t want to be rude so I stroked his head a few times as the beast stared straight ahead.
“Olivia, I’m so glad you came down to see me. I have to help my father around the house during the day so I haven’t been able to meet anyone my own age, and you are so…pretty, “he said while pushing a hair away from my face. It was a romantic gesture; one I had seen in movies and had always hoped someone would do to me.
“I….I’m glad I met you too…..um…I should probably go back up now, but we could go swimming in the lake tomorrow if you have time?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tomorrow. I’m not sure I want to go home at all. You see, my parents are always arguing and my father is a volatile man. He won’t let me leave his sight most of the day and hits me if I try to argue. This is why I go out and explore at night. I don’t know how else to be free,” he said looking on the verge of tears.
“My parents argue too. My whole family argues. It makes me afraid to say the wrong thing. It’s like walking on eggshells around them,“ I said, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. I felt angry and sad and saw all of the cursing and fighting and started to cry. He kissed me then and it was bliss. I felt a deep longing I had never experienced before and never wanted the moment to end.
“I want to show you something, he whispered,” and his eyes looked so full of grief and sadness that I wanted to trust him. He took my hand and it sent a shiver up my spine, but I went with him.
We stepped into the darkness and I looked over my shoulder at my little house that looked unfamiliar and cold. I walked into the woods with a demon and almost never walked back out again, or maybe I didn’t. Maybe the part of me that really matters stayed in those woods.
We walked for a while and my eyes got heavy and I closed them. He led me by the hand and I slept while we walked. I must have because I woke up in a shed. He was standing at the doorway with his dog smiling at me as I woke up on the dirt floor of an old shed.
I felt a tickle on my arm and panicked as a saw a daddy long legs creeping up my arm. I smacked it off and jumped up, crying already. The boy was standing in the doorway with his dog. He started to speak but the cicadas were so loud that I had to put my hand over my ears. The sound of them echoed and re-echoed in the small shed. It was head-splitting. He was speaking to me but all I could see was his mouth moving. It looked like he was saying; Just wait.
Then he walked away. And the dog followed him. I tried to get up, but the blood rushed to my head and I blacked out. I woke up to the sound of snapping twigs and I jolted awake. I have never been so scared in my entire life.
It was then that I realized just how bad my situation was and in the darkness in the woods late at night, the imagination of a child can conjure up only the darkest of ideas. The worst of it was that I wasn’t imagining them. Someone or something had led me there and I was alone in the woods, completely lost. And someone was coming.
I listened for the sounds again and heard some grunting and heavy breathing. I hid behind some old crates at the back of the shed and I noticed the melted wax of candles all over the top of them. I ducked down and held my breath as a shadow fell in the doorway. A large man hauled a sack into the shed and stood catching his breath in the doorway.
I started to cry and shake and I held my hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t give myself away. I peered through the gaps in the wood to see if he had left. He was there and he bent down with a large hunting knife and cut open the burlap sack. He walked over to the crates and I thought he would see me so I closed my eyes and thought of my parents and hoped that maybe this was all a dream.
He lit the candles and the shed glowed with orange light. He walked back to the sack and pulled out a woman and she was dead.
I lost most of myself in that moment. The man began a ritual that I don’t have the strength to write out, but he spoke ancient words that sounded like Latin and he cut her. I can’t say more than that, mostly because I passed out and somehow was not found.
I woke up to the rising sun and an empty shed. There was no evidence of anything having happened except for the melted candles and the fresh dirt that had been thrown over the floor.
I stumbled home and hugged my parents and wept. I told them what I could remember. My mother called the police and gave me a sedative so that I would calm down and sleep. When I finally woke up, the cops were there and I told them what I had seen.
They found nine bodies buried out there around the shed and said it looked like some kind of satanic ritual. After a week of searching, they found the killer in his home about a mile away from that place. It was an old shack that everyone thought was uninhabited, but this vagrant had taken up inside and apparently there were drawings and words written all over the walls in blood and some kind of alter with bones all around it. There were animal bones and human bones. The man had hanged himself from a beam in the middle of the room and his feet had been chewed away by some kind of animal.
We moved to Pennsylvania near my mom’s sister’s place after that. I could never sleep in my own room until I moved to Philadelphia. The city feels safer. When I must visit my parents, I never stay long. I can see that black dog out of the corner of my eye whenever I’m near the woods. Sometimes I see him in the city too; in the park, when I’m sitting alone, but I hear the whistle everywhere. In my head, when I sleep and when I’m awake. He’s with me always, waiting to take me again.
Story 4
Silent Rain
It was a foggy autumn evening and the sun had already set, leaving the mystified glow of the streetlights as guidance to my impartial sight. It was a night just like this one that cost me my left eye.
A few years ago, I had moved here to this small town of Camden. I had figured that moving to a small rural place from a large urban town would be much more relaxing and peaceful for my mind.
Everyone around here knew each other and it was rare to find anyone who didn’t know the news around town, so it was put on full blast that the town would have a new “Trespasser”, as they called me.
A few days after my arrival to the town and my successful move and greetings with some of the more…Lively neighbors in town, I had begun to hear rumors and stories about the town itself. The rumors included things such as murders, destruction of property, rape, etc.
Me, being a big time city folk blew it off, because it was pretty much normal for me. What I didn’t realize is, I wasn’t in the city anymore and these things are rare to happen seeing as everyone knew each other so no one would dare do such a stupid thing.
About four days after I had begun hearing the rumors, I heard a knock on my door.
“Who the hell could that be?” I wondered, seeing as I really didn’t know anyone around here. I opened the door, surprised to see the police chief, a surly, grey haired man about 180 pounds, and several rookies standing behind him.
“Good day off-” I began to speak, but before I knew it the officer had me in cuffs and was hauling me to his cruiser.
“What the hell are you doing?! Let go of me!” I yelled as he pushed me over to his cruiser.
“You’re coming with us, whether you like it or not,” his only reply was.
No matter how many times I pleaded my innocence to whatever charge placed against me, I was ignored. Finally one of the rookies un-holstered his pistol and aimed it at my forehead. “Continue talking and your only breakfast today will be a piece of lead, understand?” I was silenced.
We arrived at the station in a short period of time. The hauled me out of the back of the cruiser and shoved me indoors.
“We’re going to ask you some questions, if you don’t answer them honestly, the consequences will be dire.” I nodded my head, being careful not to speak. I didn’t want to annoy them, less I want a bullet to my head.
“Okay, first question. Why did you move here? What was your incentive?” I was shaking from fear; I had no clue as to why I was taken.
“I-I moved because I wanted to get away from c-city life. I-it was annoying I guess you could say…” I attempted to say with confidence, but it only came out with the fear of which I felt.
“Hmm…Fair enough,” he spoke with ease.
“Now, one more question, then we’re done here.” I could only nod, the menacing pistol of the rookie pointed at the temple of my head.
The chief leaned in close; I could smell the alcohol on him.
“Do you believe any of the rumors you’ve been hearing round’ town, son?” I was confused with the question. Why would that matter?
“N-no sir,” I answered. It was true, I didn’t.
“Okay, we’re done here, take the cuffs off and drive him home.” The rookie complied, helped me up then drove me back without a word.
The next few days were silent. I sat in my house in utter silence thinking upon what had happened that day.
“Why did it happen? What did I do? Do they believe I’m the one doing this?” Questions raced through my mind, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. I moved from my bedroom to my living room and sat in the recliner adjacent to my only window and stared outside into the dark.
It began to rain heavily without a single moment’s notice without hesitation. “Hmm, interesting,” I stated, looking up into the sky. The sight was pretty interesting indeed, seeing as not a cloud was visible in the night sky and every star was shining visibly.
“Where the hell is this rain coming from? Last time I knew there had to be clouds in order for it to rain,” I proclaimed quietly to myself.
I began walking towards my front door when I began hearing a strange tapping noise that sounded like it was coming from my window. I turned slowly, walking back to my window to see what was there but I couldn’t see anything. It’s not like nothing was there, no. It was pitch black. I couldn’t see anything past my window, as if someone had taken a giant piece of black construction paper and taped it over my window.
“Weird,” I said as I began walking back towards my front door.
“Maybe it’s just one of the kids next door playing a prank on me or something.” I reached my doorway and opened the door slowly; grabbing the wooden bat I kept next to the door as safety.
“Anyone there?!” I shouted, looking around.
It was pitch black here to. I couldn’t see anything in front of me; all I could hear was the ever so growing ferocity of the rain pouring down in the street and on my home.
“Last chance, is anyone out there?!” I waited for a reply. Nothing.
“Okay, I’m coming out!” I shouted, walking out onto my front porch. I couldn’t see where I was walking so I used the railing around my porch as a guide.
Finally my eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing me to barely see where I was moving through this unusual darkness.
“Come out, whoever you are, I’m done with the games!” To be honest, I was afraid. It felt as if someone were watching me, as I clambered around my house in search for whatever was tapping.
Then I heard the most bone chilling sound I could ever hear. It sounded like a bear, but it was high pitched, as if it were combined with a dog whistle and nails on a chalkboard. I covered my ears in an attempt to drown out the vicious noise.
“STOP!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, hoping whatever it was would just shut up.
Then it stopped. I slowly removed my hands from my ears, allowing myself to listen to my surroundings once more. Nothing. Not even the sound of the rain that was falling as heavy as ever. I thought I had gone deaf, but I began walking. My footsteps could be heard.
“I’m not deaf…that’s a good thing,” I panted to myself.
Just then I heard something scuttle behind me.
“Who is it?!” I yelled, looking at the spot that I had heard the noise come from. Whatever it was had moved again, to my left.
“Stop playing games!” I began to panic, not knowing what was happening. Again it sounded, this time behind me. My heart and stomach both sank. I knew what was happening. It was circling me, as if I were…Prey.
I quickly bolted, making a mad dash for my front door. Whatever that thing was, was following me. I knew this because I heard its movement behind me, getting closer, and closer. I began to pick up the pace.
“Jesus, I don’t remember my house being this damn long!” I thought to myself, as I followed the walls. Whatever it was happened to be right on my heels, then finally I found the corner of my house. I made a quick right and listened as whatever it was bypassed the corner, and ran out into the street.
The sight was horrible. Sitting there, illuminated by the street light was what looked like a man, hunched over. Its skin was torn, and fresh blood was oozing from its body, covering the ground where it stood.
Its teeth…or what were taken as teeth, were sharp, bloody and barbed. That’s not the scary part. Its eyes, or better yet, its eye, were fully opened, shining brightly in the light staring directly at me.
I dashed onto my porch just as it dashed at me. I glimpsed to my left and wished I hadn’t. Whatever it was, it was directly next to me. Its face, aligned with mine, and I could smell the rotten flesh all over its body.
“HOLY SH-” is all I managed to yell out, as it clawed at my face. I don’t quite remember what happened after that, but I remember waking up in the hospital with an extremely sharp pain in my left eye and a nurse leaning over me.
“Where am I, what happened?” I asked.
The nurse, a young woman in her mid-20’s told me that I was brought here by my neighbor after they reported hearing my yell.
“What’s the damage?” I asked.
“Well, you seem to be missing your left eye and you have several scratches an-”
I cut her off, “My what?” I asked hesitantly.
“Your left eye.” My stomach dropped.
It was on a day, just like this one that I lost my eye. I was walking down the street, pitch black, with only the streetlights to guide me. I still felt the pain in my left eye socket.
“Man, what a crappy night…” I proclaimed, and as if right on cue, it began to pour, but all remained silent. “Interesting.” Is the only word I could muster up as fear overcame me. I looked around, and what I saw chilled me.
There, standing in the streetlight, was the skinless “thing”. Both of its eyes were intact.
