“Melody, it’s dinner time. You need to come in.” She yells out the kitchen door and scares me nearly to death. “If you want Sydney to eat with us, I can call her mom.” She says when I'm almost to the door.
“No. Her mom isn’t home, just her brother and he won’t let her. He’s mean.”
“Oh. Well then let’s get you cleaned up, so you can eat.”
After washing up, I sit down at the table and we say grace. “When is dad coming home?” I look at mom and she glances down at her watch.
“Dad said he will be home late tonight. So, it’s just you and me, kiddo.”
We eat and when I’m finished, I excuse myself from the table. She looks up from her food and says while smiling, “You need to clean up your room, your bed is a mess.”
I had forgot about that. “O.K. mom, I’m going to do it right now.”
It’s starting to get a little dark out, so I turn my light on and look around my bedroom. This morning I didn’t pick up my covers because I was so hungry, but now I have to make my bed or my mom will keep yelling at me. Noticing something shiny on my pillowcase, I inspect it and realize that it’s a gray hair. Freaking out, I run out to the living room where my mom is sitting in her recliner.
“What’s up? You look like you just saw a ghost?” Concerned, she stands up after putting her book down and cups my chin with her hand.
I cling to her and she kisses my forehead as she notices that I am not acting normal at all. Honestly, I haven't acted this way since I was eight years old. Not being able to look her in the eyes, I say, “Mom. I thought I had a nightmare last night, but now I don’t know.”
I glance up and look into her eyes, seeing what I already knew and feared. The same eyes I saw last night, peering back at me. Suddenly, I feel her cold bony fingers on my chin and I shrink away from her touch. She grabs my arm with her other hand and squeezes tight. I try to fight, but she seems to have inhuman strength.
“You aren’t going anywhere. I want you to get ready for bed, you look so tired. Besides, when dad gets home he won’t want to see you like this.” She says with that dreadful voice that chills my very soul.
When I look back up at her, she doesn’t look like my mother anymore. Instead, her face has transformed into the old woman’s. Trying to free myself, I almost succeed but she has such a tight grip on me that there is no way to get away.
“Did you honestly think I would let you escape?” She shows her fangs and growls at me.
Crying, I give up all hope and collapse to the floor. When I do, she is forced to let go of my arm. It takes me a minute, but then I finally realize that I am free. Within two seconds, I’m up and running for anywhere safe.
I reach my parent’s room and slam the door quickly behind me. Hearing the old woman scream, I slide down against the door and sit on the floor. Trying to breathe, I gasp for air and find it harder than I thought. I look down at my chest and see why. Blood is seeping out of a gash the size of a half dollar.
She pounds on the door and I hear her nails scratch the wood as she tries to get in. The door is locked, so I'm safe for a moment. I stand up and look around, noting where the windows are and then I freeze in place.
On the bed, both my parents lay dead. They look like their internal organs have been sucked out by a spider. From behind me, I hear the door start to give a way against her constant pounding.
I look over at the window and I feel a flicker of hope, till I hear the door shatter and she bursts through it grabbing ahold of me. Why didn’t I run to the window and get out before she caught me? This is all I can think about as she drags me through the hallway to my bedroom.
Feeling pain, I glance down at my finger and see that one of my nails is hanging by a thin piece of skin. I must have caught it on something when I was fighting her in the hallway. I take my other hand and pull it off, wincing as I do.
Right now, I suspect that she is going to kill me and there simply isn’t anything I can do about it, except for fight her till the end. When she gets right in front of me, I grab ahold of her hair and yank as hard as I can. She lets out a blood curdling scream and slams her fists into my sides.
I hear my bones snap and pain shoots throughout my body, but all I can think about is getting free. Maybe, just maybe I can distract her so I can escape. I jam my thumbs into her eyes and hear them pop as my fingers penetrate them, feeling a slippery goo coat them before pulling my thumbs back out. She screams even louder and claws at my clothes.
While she keeps trying to get a hold on me, I bolt for the front door. It’s locked and I have a hard time with the chain, but I finally get it open. When I do, I hear her screaming after me. I run and run, till I can’t anymore. The pain in my sides stop me and I find myself looking around for anyone to help me.
An older man is sitting on the porch down the street and when sees me he stands up, asking, “Is everything alright?”
“No, I need help. My parents are dead and someone is trying to kill me. Please help me.”
“O.K., let me call the police.” He takes my hand and I feel his cold bony hand as he leads me inside. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.” When his mouth forms a crooked smile, I notice his two teeth.
Waking up in the morning, nothing seemed strange at all. I sat down in front of the television and watched the news. Then I made my children sausage, eggs, and toast before they had to leave for school. Hearing the school bus honk outside, I glanced over at the clock on the kitchen wall and realized that they were late for the bus. That was just the first thing that went wrong today but not the last, I promise. After the kids barely made it on to the bus, with no time to spare, I sat down with a cup of coffee and realized that in the bottom of the cup is a dead fly. Once I took a shower, I went about my daily business of cleaning the house, making the beds, and doing the laundry. Not at any time during this daily ritual, did I ever once think that things would go so horribly wrong before I would close my eyes and go to sleep at the end of the night. But now, it is 4 p.m. and for some unknown reason, the world has gone crazy.
After washing my hair and rinsing off, I step out and grab my towel. Hearing someone speak, I ask, “Hello. Mom is that you?” Frowning when no one answers, I hurry to dry off when I feel a brisk chill in the air and the hairs on my arms stand on end. Turning around, I see a chilling image in the mirror. It is me, but not really. There is something off just a little and I can’t put my finger on it till I blink, and then it goes back to normal. The image was of the doll Marybelle. Her eyes were so dead and empty that I could tell it’s what I saw and when I realize this, the first thing I want to do is throw that doll in the fire and burn it to ashes. After a few minutes, I decide that it was just a figment of my imagination and that because it looks so real it just freaks me out a little, that’s all. Shaking my head to get her mental image out of my head, I hurry to pull my pants on and button up my shirt before re
While opening presents on Christmas morning, I watch as my mother walks over to the tree and picks up a large package with a big shiny purple bow on it. She turns around with a mischievous smile on her face before looking me in the eye and stating, “This one is for you. I saved the best for last.”Feeling extremely excited, I thrust my hands out to reach for it. When she places it in my palms, I notice that it is much heavier than I expected for such a small package. With a funny look on her face, she steps back and sits on the couch to the right of me and stares at me till I unwrap it, saying, “Hurry, I want to see if you really like it.”Hesitating, I watch her eyes bug out when I decide to milk it for all it is worth, till she screams at me in excitement, “Hurry.”Placing the package between my legs for leverage, I find the seam of the tape and slowly pull it bit by bit until the paper starts to peel
For about a year and a half now, I have been sleeping in my living room in my comfy black faux suede reclining chair in front of the fireplace. My kids always thought it was odd that I had a bedroom upstairs that seemed perfectly fine, but I never used it once my ex-husband was gone. Matter fact, I flat out refused to go in there after dark because it creeped me out to no end. So, when I sit here in the dark with only a small lamp in the dining room for light to see where the bathroom is, I begin to wonder how I am not scared when I see the shadows move from behind me. I guess it is because whatever is in my bedroom upstairs, feels threatening. What is down here however, feels like it is part of me for some reason. I know that doesn’t make sense, but I feel that perhaps the shadows that move around me once belonged to either a little boy who died in a barn fire in the very early 1900’s or an older woman who died here just after that.&nbs
I’m talking to my mom on the phone and listening to a song on the radio while I sit in my room staring out the window at the storm. It’s an especially strong one I might add, because as I sit there, I notice that a tree gets ripped right out of the ground and is lopped on an electric wire a couple feet away from it. As I watch this happen, an alert comes over the radio and then the phone blinks out. “Dang it.” I say as I glance down at my phone and wonder what just happened. Hearing the alert system on the radio, I climb off my bed and walk over to turn it up before I hear that there is a serious threat. Something about a contagion in the air and that everyone should stay indoors, or they might breathe it in. See, I am not stupid. Everyone knows that if it is in the air, even staying indoors won’t help with the situation. So, I start to laugh a little before realizing that they are dead serious. Hearing the aler
Every night for years, I had a dream where I was falling. I would turn round and round as I fell farther down the hole. It was dark and menacing, but before I fell, something would chase me that sounded a lot like a little girl. The thing is the way she sounded, scared me to no end. I remember one night. I had just closed my eyes and then I heard it, a gentle scraping noise coming from the end of the bed. Convincing myself that it was just something in my head, I keep my eyes closed and count to 100. When I am done, I hear it again. As I open my eyes, I feel the sheets begin to slowly lower as if someone was pulling them from the foot of the bed. When I see the shadowy dark figure emerge, I scream out into the night. Fearing no one will help me, I try to make my escape and end up flat on my face before realizing that my feet were still caught up in the sheets. Struggling to get back up again, I