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She has her mother’s bright blue eyes, Daddy’s Little Angel does. And the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. She could melt an iceberg, she could. Everyone that knows her just loves her to death, and I’m so proud to call myself her father. She’s a gift from above, I know it, which is why I must protect her, no matter what the cost!
Some people just don’t understand.
It all started a couple of weeks ago. Some nasty little girl was teasing Katie, my Little Angel, and she just wouldn’t leave her alone. She was saying nasty things, saying how poor she was and saying she was dirty and such. She just had the filthiest mouth; little girls shouldn’t be so nasty. Well she followed Katie home that day throwing dirt at her and telling her to take a bath in it. Well my Katie showed her what’s what, yes she did! And Daddy couldn’t be more proud. I don’t think anyone should hurt a child, even if they don’t mean it! Don’t get me wrong! But Katie never did anything to anyone, and I love her to death.
You’ve gotta understand.
I was only being a loving father when I hid the body. You see we live in a very rural area, and that nasty mouthed little girl clearly had no business following my Katie in the first place. But I know no one would understand, and I just can’t let anything happen to my Little Angel!
Of course that’s when my wife came home and saw that our little girl had a few bruises. Can you believe she actually glared at me? As if I’d ever so much as think of hurting my Little Angel! Of course I was upset, but the sweetheart that she is, Katie set her on track sure enough. She told her how the filthy little girl harassed her and wouldn’t leave her be. And I tell you, that lit my wife right up, she was so angry. I had to restrain her, she was gonna call her parents then and there. It was nine in the evening!
Well, I finally talked her down, even though she was furious with me that I hadn’t handled it sooner. Of course by then she just didn’t trust me to settle it no matter what I told her. I said I’d do it first thing after work the next day but no, no! She insisted she’d call them herself the next day. Even Katie pleaded with her not to call her parents, she said she’d be so embarrassed at school if everyone found out she’d run home and told mommy.
Of course we both knew we couldn’t explain that the filthy little girl had gone “missing” after their little scuffle, now could we? I mean, she’s my wife and I loved her, but she just wouldn’t understand. But she just sent Katie straight up to bed and wouldn’t hear another word from me on the matter, her mind was made up. And she’s a very headstrong woman (it’s part of her charm, you see) so there’s no arguing with her once she’s made up her mind on a matter.
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Posted 3 years, 1 month ago at 4:39 am. 160 comments
I was born in Mexico, my father was a goat farmer, and my mother used to weave baskets so that we could have at least two meals per day. We were very poor, and me and my siblings had the misfortune of being born in extreme weather, my oldest brother was born on the coldest day of winter, my elder sister in a spring deluge, and I was born in the thick of summer, and despite the fact that the 80′s had brought advances in the standard of living for the world’s citizens, it seemed to have forgotten us, in our tiny two bedroom cabin. So when my father heard about the H1-B Visa program through my uncle, he eagerly signed up. Every spring, he would go to work as a laborer on a pepper and tobacco farm in Texas. The work was hard, but the pay was good, and he was always home in time for Christmas, so he didn’t complain. He was saving up money so that we could emigrate to the United States, and so he worked from 1988 until 1991, saving what he could. He made sure not a penny was wasted, on the long winter bus ride from the farm to Mexico, he would sleep, so that the hunger pangs would not bother him.
He doesn’t usually talk much about his days as a migrant worker, but he did tell us that one day, in the winter of 1989, I believe, he could not sleep. The bus had made a rest stop near a small taco stand. the tacos smelled wonderful, and everyone on the bus formed a long line towards the taco stand, eager and salivating. The man behind the small dirty counter was very friendly, he said, but there was something that was a little “off” about him. The man scooped out the steaming, spiced meat onto fresh, piping hot, flour tortillas like a machine, taking the money in one hand and serving up a big loaded plate with the other.
“Tacos De Venado!”, His voice rang out. Apparently he was selling venison tacos, or deer meat. “Compren sus delicious’s taquitos de venado!”
My father debated whether or not he should risk spending 2 dollars of his hard earned money. Fortunately my father is quite impatient, and detests long lines, so he went back to the bus, and quickly fell asleep.
The next winter the bus again made a rest stop at the man’s taco stand, and again the passengers formed a long line along with other people, they had become addicted they said, every year they waited impatiently to return to this small, dingy taco stand. My father of course, stayed on the bus. He was used to the feeling of hunger, he lived with it throughout his childhood, he would surely survive. So again, he slept, dreaming of a big bowl of my mother’s chicken soup, with a side of hot corn tortillas (which we could afford by then).
The next spring, he left again, it wasn’t a very good year, the weather was horrible and so the crop yield was low, the farm had no choice but to let the workers go home a month early. My father said that the fellow workers were abuzz with excitement, they didn’t have to eat their tacos in the cold this year! The men eagerly counted the number of miles, their excitement mounting as they drew closer to the rest stop. Three more miles, two more miles, one more mile, until they finally reached the spot where the man had his taco stand.
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Posted 3 years, 1 month ago at 8:36 am. 105 comments
The man who lives above you is the quiet type. How lucky you are to live in an apartment underneath someone so courteous! It seems he never drops anything, seeing as how you never hear any loud thumps coming from the rooms above yours. He is even kind enough to keep the volume on his radio and TV too low to disrupt you. Come to think of it, had you not seen and spoken to him, you would think no one lived up there. Quite a big change from living below a batch of rowdy teens.
He is terribly kind as well. Within the first week of you living there, he invites you up to dinner and offers his services as a plumber in case you have any leaky faucets. The maintenance crew at this complex is awfully incompetent. You can’t have it all, I suppose.
He didn’t even get offended when you told him you were far too busy and didn’t know him well enough to dine with him. He simply smiled, gave you his number, and let you know the offer stood as long as you lived below him.
One night, you decide to take him up on his offer, seeing as how you’re tired of the Hot Pockets your busy schedule allows. You call, uncertain about whether or not he is home due to the utter silence from above, and he answers and invites you to join him upstairs; he has made far too much chicken piccata to eat himself.
You climb the stairs and enter his apartment. It’s impeccable. You’ve already managed to spill some Coke Zero on your carpet. In his six years living there, he has left no stains. Dinner smells delightful. He already has a place set for you, almost as if he was expecting you sooner. Astounded by his kindness, you seat yourself and begin eating.
Almost immediately, you feel a bit drowsy. Overworked, perhaps? He smiles and watches your muscles slowly fail you, the sauce dribbling out of the mouth you can’t hold closed. You start to slide from your chair, you can almost feel the floor meeting your body, but no. He catches you. No sound is made. He carries you down the hall, ever so quietly. You’re growing too unconscious to worry, so rest assured, no one will hear a thing; you won’t even hit the floor.
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Credited to Clarissa.
Posted 3 years, 2 months ago at 6:14 am. 164 comments
Sean’s house was covered from head to toe in family photographs. Some from family retreats to Ireland, others showing lost family relatives. Most of these photographs would include Sean in them, so it was only natural that he would look at them from time to time. However, one day he noticed something rather strange about the pictures: His mother seemed to have a red face in all of the photos. Rather shocked by this, he immediately ran downstairs to ask if anyone had done something to the pictures. They all answered no; even his mother, whom was quite worried. Later that day Sean’s mother went to the hospital due to horrific 3rd degree burns caused by a grill catching fire for an unknown reason.
Sean’s father decided to stay at the hospital that night and thought it best to send Sean home with his big brother Thomas and little sister Maria. As Sean walked into the house he caught glance of the family photograph in which he noticed the change to his mother’s face, and found that Maria was not in the picture.
He ran upstairs to her bedroom only to find that she was nowhere to be seen. Alarmed by these strange events Sean called the police. Sean informed them that his sister had been kidnapped and that someone was in his house, possibly vandalising his family’s belongings. The phone immediately went dead, and as Sean went to put the phone down he caught a glimpse of an animal in the corner of his eye. He rushed out of the safety of his room to go and find the beast, but what he found was far worse.
The mangled bodies of his family lie in the corridor in front of his room, their faces frozen in a state that almost makes him vomit. And then it struck him. All the photographs had been removed from the walls, except for one which was a picture of Sean, with his face scribbled out.
The next day his two best friends went to visit him, because he was not answering his phone and was not at school all week. As they arrived, they noticed that the door had been left open. So they let themselves in, and were never seen again.
Posted 3 years, 2 months ago at 12:34 am. 119 comments
I am currently sitting in front of my computer, scared witless. Any moment now I am going to be killed.
Today a friend of mine told me a story.
His aunt had taken care of him since he was a small boy, and she told him last night about how his parents died. He did a very fair imitation of her (I knew them both pretty well):
“They were doing mission work in some nasty little South American country when a man burst into the mission hospital one night, terrified out of his mind. He told them that his sister had been killed by a Muerta blanca, and that he was certain that it was coming for him next. What is a Muerta blanca? Apparently it was some sort of bogey-man, something like that dumb chupacabra or whatever. They called it the White Death or the White Girl, because it was the soul of someone who hated life so much that they came back in their shrouds to kill those who told of them.
The man had been told about the vengeful spirit by his sister hours before her death. It was a girl with dead, black eyes that wept bile. The thing moved without ever actually moving its legs, and it stalked its victims back to their homes. Now, if you weren’t already aware that this thing was following you, once it got back to your house, it would start knocking on your door…
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Posted 3 years, 2 months ago at 4:39 pm. 176 comments
Leslie sat on the barstool, sipping a margarita. She’d hit a run of bad luck in the past few months. First her boyfriend Ricky left her, then she lost her job. She got a new job, but not as well paying, of course. So she had to move out of her house and into a cramped apartment. Her cat, Muffin, died. Her mother was ill, and needed her support, even though she couldn’t support herself. With all that bad luck, its little wonder that she let that guy sit next to her, buy her a drink, the same old routine. The fella’s name was Geoffry. He seemed nice enough, even if he was kind of a dweeb. He wore horn-rimmed glasses with a blue button down shirt, he wasn’t nerd-skinny, exactly, but he was kind of on the thin side.
They talked for awhile, and then she left the bar. The next day, as she was walking home from work, Leslie saw Geoffry again, standing at the bus stop a block away from her office building. “Hi, Leslie! Hey I was thinking maybe we could head down to the bar tonight. I really had fun last night.” She politely declined, and he said, “Okay, well, I’ll see you again.”
She left for work the next day, and guess who she saw? Geoffry was standing right there about a block from her house. “Hi Leslie! You wanna hook up tonight? I was thinking maybe a movie?” She politely declined, and went about her work. When she got home, she had a new message on the answering machine. [Hi, Leslie! It’s me, Geoffry. I just thought you might’ve changed your mind about the movies. Don’t make me keep asking, just call me, bye!]
The next morning, Leslie left for work. Geoffry was standing outside her door. “Hi Leslie! Why’d you stand me up last night, huh? I just want a chance, Leslie, we can try, right?” After 3 days of annoyance, Leslie caved. “Fine, Geoffry, we can try. Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night? We’ll see how it goes, okay?”
Leslie sure was having a bad run of luck. Ricky was in hysterics when he left her, her cat was dead, and now Geoffry too. What was left of his corpse was found a week later…
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Credited to SugarD.
(I accidentally deleted this post when I was clearing out stuff by a certain author, I’m sorry… but it’s back now… I backdated it so hopefully it won’t pop up in your RSS feeds again, if it did, I’m sorry)
Posted 3 years, 3 months ago at 10:15 pm. 33 comments
Still no messages on my phone.
I guess he wasn’t going to call me back after all. I can’t really blame him, maybe I came on a bit too fast yesterday.
I had noticed him long before he noticed me. His shiny black hair and unnatural blue eyes. I wasn’t the only one watching him, that’s for sure. His movements were elegant in a boyish way. And his smile…his smile.
I would die for that smile.
Still no messages…
I thought about calling him, maybe apologize for going too fast yesterday. I’m a coward, I know, but I just couldn’t bring myself to dial his number.
Besides he’d promised he’d contact me when he’s ready.
So I’ll wait. I’m patient.
I know, I’ll just casually stroll past his house. Just to see if he’s home. Maybe he’s out, that would explain why he couldn’t call me yet.
He only lives half an hour away anyway. Maybe he’s shy and is scared to call me. Silly boy. I’ll go to him and tell him that he doesn’t have to be scared. That I don’t mind if he needs time.
He lives pretty secluded in a farm on the outskirts of town. I can hear the sheep in the stables as I approach. My heart skips when I see there’s lights burning inside. He must be there, he told me yesterday his parents would be gone for the weekend. They left him to look after the sheep for those days. Poor baby, that must be hard work. He was probably just too busy to call me. I’ll have to stay here until his parents come back and help him take care of all those sheep.
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Posted 3 years, 3 months ago at 9:18 pm. 178 comments
As Jake trudged through the cornfield, he recalled the argument he’d had that morning with his Pa. “But they’ve only been up a month– they don’t need changin’!”, he had yelled.
“Yes they do, Jake, every one! And I want that first scarecrow replaced by sundown!”
He shifted the heavy bag slung over his shoulder and cursed at himself for not thinking of something more clever to say. He clutched the stepladder in his other arm like a lance, and fantasized about different endings to the fight. “I do all the work,” he thought to himself, “and just once I’d like some say-so as to how and when things get done.”
Striding up to the stoic figure, he put the bag down and planted the ladder. “Damn things last almost two months with proper care,” he fumed as he stepped up. He pulled off the garish hood and was met with a chorus of buzzing horse flies. Jake had just enough time to see the the boy’s glazed eyes, and the dried blood in his nostrils, before the head slumped forward.
“Huh…” he mused, “Pa was right.”
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Credited to RavenFlesh.
Posted 3 years, 3 months ago at 7:54 am. 68 comments
!MESSAGE BEGINS
We made a mistake. That is the simple, undeniable truth of the matter, however painful it might be. The flaw was not in our Observatories, for those machines were as perfect as we could make, and they showed us only the unfiltered light of truth. The flaw was not in the Predictor, for it is a device of pure, infallible logic, turning raw data into meaningful information without the taint of emotion or bias. No, the flaw was within us, the Orchestrators of this disaster, the sentients who thought themselves beyond such failings. We are responsible.
It began a short while ago, as these things are measured, less than 6^6 Deeli ago, though I suspect our systems of measure will mean very little by the time anyone receives this transmission. We detected faint radio signals from a blossoming intelligence 2^14 Deelis outward from the Galactic Core, as photons travel. At first crude and unstructured, these leaking broadcasts quickly grew in complexity and strength, as did the messages they carried. Through our Observatories we watched a world of strife and violence, populated by a barbaric race of short-lived, fast breeding vermin. They were brutal and uncultured things which stabbed and shot and burned each other with no regard for life or purpose. Even their concepts of Art spoke of conflict and pain. They divided themselves according to some bizarre cultural patterns and set their every industry to cause of death.
They terrified us, but we were older and wiser and so very far away, so we did not fret. Then we watched them split the atom and breach the heavens within the breadth of one of their single, short generations, and we began to worry. When they began actively transmitting messages and greetings into space, we felt fear and horror. Their transmissions promised peace and camaraderie to any who were listening, but we had watched them for too long to buy into such transparent deceptions. They knew we were out here, and they were coming for us.
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Posted 3 years, 3 months ago at 6:48 pm. 119 comments
