I Sat On The Bus

January 2, 2015 at 12:00 AM
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I sat on the bus, on my way to school.

Listening to music, and paying little to no attention to the other students.

At one of the stops my mind snapped back to reality.

I looked towards the small house. Tommy’s house, I thought.

A hand slipped through the drapes of the window and waved the bus driver to move on.

‘He’s sick’, I thought, paying no large amount of attention to the situation.

The day flew by.

I watched the local news channel after school, and what I heard paralyzed me.

Tommy’s entire family was murdered that day by an unknown suspect.

After hearing this news, I moved back up to my room and quietly fell asleep.

——————————————-

The next day, I sat on the bus.

We drove past Tommy’s house and the bus driver, unaware of Tommy’s families fate, stopped at his home.

As I was about to get up and explain to her what had happened, something caught my eye.

A pale hand slipped through the drapes of the window, and waved the bus driver to move on.

I sat on the bus, terrified.

Credit To: Isaac Cook

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Predator/Prey

December 29, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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After a night of carousing with his buddies, Billy was ready to head home.

“Are you sure you want to walk home by yourself?” asked Todd, “You’ve heard the rumors, right?”

“What rumors?” ask Billy.

“You know, the problem…with vampires.” He said that last word almost in a whisper.

“Oh God! Really? I can’t believe you’re taking that seriously.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s ridiculous, that’s why! I need to scoot. It’s so late, the sun’s almost up.”

Todd shrugged. “Suit yourself, but if you get killed tonight, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

“I won’t say anything! I’ll be dead!” Billy called back as he started walking. The echoing laughter from the guys made him smile.

He hadn’t been walking long when he heard something rustling in the dark. He stopped and looked around. The noise also stopped. He cursed his own paranoia and continued, but he couldn’t shake that…feeling. A moment later, he heard it again, louder. His fear turned to anger.

“Who’s out there?!” he roared. Nobody answered. He told himself he was just being stupid and the best thing to do either way was get home as quickly as possible. He was just about to turn around when something charged him from the shadows. It happened so fast, he had no time to brace himself as the hulking figure hit him like a freight train. The next thing he knew, he was pinned to the ground by a burly man with a look of crazed hatred on his face. His eyes burned with a mixture of fury and disgust.

“Who the hell are you?” Billy demanded.

“Who do you think?” he said in a low, hoarse voice.

And then, Billy knew. This was the killer everybody had been whispering about. The vampire problem wasn’t just a rumor. The man reached in his toolbelt and took out two items that sent a wave of panic through Billy. He squirmed violently, but it was no use. His attacker was too strong. He shoved the wooden stake against Billy’s chest and raised the hammer high. Billy screamed in terror, his fangs glistening in the moonlight.

Credit To: E. Alan Rahn

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A Knock at the Door

December 6, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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On the 25th of November, 1941, my Great Uncle was killed when the HMS Barham blew up like a powder keg after being torpedoed by a German Submarine. The event was captured on film and is an horrific sight, as the men serving on the ship scrambled for their lives on the capsized hull, before the main magazine caught fire and exploded. When word got back to my gran, she was heartbroken having lost her dear brother.

Sifting through the memories of their love, she sat not long after, reading the letters my Great Uncle Frank had sent her while on the ship. As she wept inconsolably, she just could not let go of the pain. Surrounded by the letters like tombstones, anguished reminders of what had been lost, suddenly someone knocked at the front door. Yet there was no-one there, just an empty street at night. When my gran returned to the room where she had been crying for hours, something strange had happened – all the letters were gone, save for one, which my father now possesses.

I don’t know how true the story is, for grief can make illusions of the world, but I have read the letter, many times in fact. There is something curious about it, because it was signed twice by my Great Uncle. The second signature is undoubtedly his handwriting, and reads: “Don’t cry, sis. Always with you. – December 12th, 1941″, the same night someone came knocking at the door.

Credit To – Michael Whitehouse

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A Sailor Without Two Coins

October 9, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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Many a sailor, no matter how brave and fearless, knows well how unpredictable and deadly the sea can be. Before every setting of the sails, a prayer goes throughout the crew, praying to God for the safety of their voyage. A wise man knows that prayers are not always answered and many a man has traveled to the briny depths of the sea, never to be seen again. Some men say though, they have managed to cheat death in those moments with a ritual that may not be worth living for later.

The ritual is fairly simple, but not one that one wants to use unless they are in mortal peril and know it. Providing that they are not sinking fast enough in the water to choke their words, a man must repeat the words, “Devil take my soul across the Styx, God has abandoned me,” three times at the top of his lungs. If he truly puts himself and his soul into it, the Ferryman shall come, no matter how much the waves rage and toss. His ship shall not be turned, nor shall he capsize. The man shall feel his wrist grabbed and be pulled into the boat. From there, he will not feel the waves rocking him. He will feel no hunger, no thirst, only the breath in his lungs and the wind blow softly across his wet face.
It is important that the man does not look up into his eyes. This is because calling him out is a trick. You see, the Ferryman will not take a soul across the Styx without payment. He will hear him speak, asking for payment. When he asks, he must proclaim that he is without payment and needs to go get it from home. The Ferryman will then begin to row to the sailor’s home shore.

He cannot look at him at all the entire way. If it takes three days and three nights, it will not matter. This is because if the Ferryman looks into your eyes, he will know you are lying and return you to the waters to drown.

When you finally reach the shore, the sailor must thank him and tell him he will return shortly. The sailor can never return to the sea after this. The Ferryman will never come to the shore to collect, only be there by the water, awaiting his payment. If a sailor ever does set foot on a boat again, he and all the men on it shall perish in a violent and destructive manner.

Be warned though. One cannot outrun the Ferryman forever. I know a man who is in his last years and fears closing his eyes at night, lest he pass from this world and his soul meet the Ferryman once more. He feels the grip around his wrist tighter and tighter at night with each dream when he finally falls into sleep, and sees a monstrous face looking at him enraged.

No one truly cheats the Ferryman. He is simply far more patient than most realize.

Credit To – AMD

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Seaweed

October 4, 2014 at 12:00 PM
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My grandmother grew up in the slums of Prohibition-era Chicago. Her family lived in a small house near the harbor, and one of her earliest memories was of a particularly hot summer when, seeking respite from the heat, she and her sister discovered a seldom-used section of boardwalk near an abandoned warehouse. Every night for several weeks, the two girls would make their way down to the docks and sit together on the edge of the pier as the sun went down. My grandmother vividly, and for a time fondly, recalled the feel of the seaweed between her toes as she and her sister dangled their feet into the murky water.

It wasn’t until years later that she returned to the pier and found that the warehouse had been demolished. Curious, she made an inquiry with the Department of Planning and Development. Apparently, the warehouse had been owned for a time by the Mob, who was using it as a base of operations for a local prostitution racket. It had only been uncovered when an associate began ‘disposing’ of rival hookers by fitting them with concrete shoes and dumping them into the harbor. Investigating officers had recovered nearly two dozen bodies from the waters of a secluded pier nearby.

How had the bodies been discovered? A passing fisherman spotted some of the victims’ hair floating near the surface of the water, like seaweed.

Credit To – September Derleth

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Smile For Me

October 3, 2014 at 12:00 PM
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I have a beautiful smile. Oh, how I miss it. This morning, I wake up and I smile at my bedroom mirror. I am disappointed at what I see. I kiss my husband, I send my two children off to school. I entertain guest friends. I show them all my lovely smile. But I look in the mirror and I do not see it.

“Are you ready?” Harry calls from the parlor.

“Yes, my love.” I reply as I clasp a string of polished pearls around my neck.

“Oh fantastic, the children are with Mrs. Knox, and the dinner reservations are all set for eight o’clock sharp.” Harry beams as he enters our bedroom. He crosses over to me and puts his arms around my waist and tells me how darling I look tonight.

I embrace him warmly. But suddenly I feel his arms stiffen.

“V-Vivian?” Harry stutters.

“Yes, dear?” I answer sweetly.

In horror Harry raises a shaking finger over my shoulder and points at the old full length mirror against the wall.

“Your reflection… it can’t be… is it staring at us?!”

I turn and see her there, gazing intently. She throws herself against the mirror. There is no sound, only deafening silence. Harry, help me! she mouths as she batters the surface with her fists.

I feel my eyes narrow at her. Harry looks back and forth between myself and my abhorrently perverse reflection.

My limbs begin to elongate and dear Harry’s blue eyes widen. He shrieks and struggles as I grasp him. My jaw detaches. My face contorts and splits open at my mouth, my teeth like shined and piercing knives.

Vivian claws at the mirror. She beats against it as I devour her hapless husband.

Perhaps now she will learn to smile for me.

Credit To – Aye Perry

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