This is a perfect story for this time of year when everyone is making resolutions and promises for the future. Enjoy every minute of it...(this story and this life)
Burn With Me Nightmare #189
A whisper tickled my left ear.
I adjusted my pillow.
Another murmur resonated in my thoughts. It was low and throaty and I could barely make out the words but I was damn sure it was part of my dream, part of my unconsciousness.
Hardly awake, I shifted the covers over my shoulder and basked in the warmth from the blanket.
Burn. With. Me. I sighed heavily. A low grunt of my own wiggled in my throat. Go away, I thought.
Burn. I heard a voice growl louder. The word echoing through the room like some club remix.
I opened my eyes.
A lady stared back at me.
She had the darkest brown eyes I'd never seen, like chocolate.
And I could somehow see through them.
I maneuvered some sort of karate kick under the blankets - that went no where near the threatening figure - and mixed it with a barely audible scream.
I was definitely awake now. The haze of some forgotten dream lingered faintly in my mind. I blinked the film from my eyes. The bedroom was dark with a slight haze of a streetlight that poured in through the crooked blind. The hour was unknown, but I guesstimated I had to be lost in the darkness closer to dawn.
I shook the remnants of slumber from my head and was certain the lady was gone, just a leftover morsel of a bad meal.
But I could feel her somehow. Knew she still lingered.
My eyes darted about the room as I grabbed for some sort of weapon on my nightstand.
Noisily, I clunked around it contents and ended up holding a bottle of eye drops.
Nice, I thought. Then out loud, "Yeah, that will scare her."
I waved the tiny bottle of salt water ferociously as a blade.
"Get outta here," I called out. "Just go."
She popped up from the corner of my bed.
I screamed. Very loud. I could see the lady clearly now, as she stood standing...
near the corner of my bed. And she seemed to mock my screams by tilting her head and forcing a confused facial expression.
I got a better look at her now. She was easy to make out in the darkness, her body glowing brightly as if stuck under a black light. Her skin radiated a bright white, with the bluest of veins and purple hues.
Her lips glistened the most perfect shade of pink; but were lined with black cracks and bloodied scabs.
A thick heap of silver hair matted her face and through it emerged a pinkish hue.
Her head was seeping blood.
I screamed again. Then, I stared. My mouth hung open, and I shivered from fear, waiting for some sort of death to come over me. I questioned myself mentally, wondering why she just floated there, not attacking me like so many horror movies I had watched in the past.
I was petrified at the silence;
at the stillness of the scene;
at the anticipation.
I tried to push another scream through my open mouth - believe me I tried - but could not force one.
I had fallen just as silent.
Then, I heard it.
Burn. Burn. Burn with me. She moaned through cracked lips that now dripped a blood to match that which fell from her hairline.
I gasped, certain I was having a nightmare; certain I only had to wake myself up. So, I started shaking my head, violently. I must have shook my head a dozen times.
But she was still there;
still bleeding out;
still wishing me to burn...
Then, I smelled it.
All that shaking must have jarred something loose and my senses came alive.
All of a sudden, I could hear the flicker. My nose breathed in the smoke.
I threw the blankets off my body, slithered across the bed (away from whatever she was that was blocking the other side) and swung open the door. I ran into the hallway.
Flames licked the walls.
Fire swooped across the ceiling, drinking the plaster as it danced. It was making it's way from one end to the other, and I was in its path.
Why the hell isn't the smoke alarm ringing its lungs out?!?!
I spun around to confront my intruder.
The lady who surely started this inferno.
The one who wanted me dead.
But she wasn't there.
She was no where in the room.
I knew I didn't have time for this bullshit.
I ran to the window, flipped the lock, slid it open, popped the screen and shimmied out into the crisp night.
As my bare feet felt the cold, January ground, I spun around to see the severity of the situation. It was a complete inferno that was consuming the house and it grabbed chunk after chunk of the place like a hungry orange monster at a buffet.
I silently thanked God that I lived alone and that I made it out; I cursed myself for not grabbing my cell phone; and I wondered if any of my books would survive? Maybe just one of them?
But as I watched the flaming monster devour every square inch of my now former residence, I doubted anything would survive its fiery vengeance.
The building was crumbling now and near collapse. I could hear sirens in the distance.
I saw a silhouette move past my bedroom window. The lady slid the blind to one side and stared out at me ~ her skin still glowing, her head still leaking blood. She almost seemed to smile.
Then, it hit me.
I gave her a nod. A sort of thank you gesture.
A feeble attempt at some gratitude for waking me;
for scaring the shit out of me;
for getting me moving at such an hour.
Don't waste it. I heard her creepy voice in the back of my mind. And with that, she nodded back; folded her hands in prayer and stepped backwards, disappearing among the blaze.
This is one of my favorite pieces I wrote a few years back.
Any thoughts, Creepsters?
Color Scheme - Nightmare # 32
The red-brick house sits among the yellow flowers and the green grass
under a blue sky with white clouds
and an orange sun that shines its rays
down upon the purple lilac bushes ~
heating the black-tar driveway
and ricocheting off the silver car
where underneath runs a trickle of scarlet liquid
beside a tan body
with blue lips and fingertips.
So, I am currently reading a collection of short stories and most of these stories are at least a century old or more. And I love the writing and the language and actually find myself having to look up words and terminology from the day. It's been quite the adventure. Anyways, I wanted to share one of my favorites passages from one of these shorts. It's about a storm brewing and the uncertainty behind it. I hope you find the words as haunting as I did...
"Then would arise the great clamour of the storm,
sweeping, sighing, and groaning in the distance,
as if all the invisible powers were seeking and calling on one another in the darkness,
while living things hid themselves, sitting in corners, in order to escape a fearful meeting with them."
I think I have edited this piece about twenty times. Only because I know there is so much more of a story here yet to uncover. As I continue to read and rewrite it, I know I will come back to it someday and create more of a world for Johnna and her monster.
Keep an eye out for more of this one in the future, Creepsters.
House For Sale - Nightmare #41:
It wasn’t until the third mortgage payment, that Johnna knew for sure. She knew things had to change. That’s when she began to work longer hours; leave the lights on all night; pray a bit more.
After six months in, Johnna knew she had to move. There was no more denying it. She realized this when the ceilings cracked and splintered without cause; when the various power outages could no longer be explained; when the shadows started to play peek-a-boo.
She could feel the eminent danger swelling up in that haunted house like hot air in a balloon. So, she called the realtor and made arrangements. Then, she called a friend and packed what she would need for the next couple of weeks. She went to bed that night, pleased that she would be free of this awful place by morning’s light.
Hours later, Johnna awoke with a jolt. She sat upright in bed, surrounded by darkness, unable to focus. Her mind wrestled with a faded dream; or nightmare; or noise?
What happened to the lights?
Or her backup lanterns?
Everything was on when she fell asleep.
Everything was working then.
Was there another power outage?
Maybe a storm?
She knew better.
But what was it that woke her up?
What was it that got her attention?
An odd, gurgling sound answered her. This awful sound filled up the room, sounding like an army of bullfrogs by their pond.
The noise stopped.
A minute of silence passed.
She heard it again.
The gurglings were back and this time they were closer to her.
Johnna’s heart raced, smacking against her chest like a hammer to a nail. Beads of sweat trickled down her hairline and before she could grab for the flashlight on the nightstand, it grabbed her.
A hand - from out of the darkness - took hold of her forearm. Its grasp on her was firm and cold - freezing, in fact - as though someone had placed a frozen slab of meat against her skin.
Johnna shook her head furiously, like a child refusing to eat vegetables, hoping to rid herself from the nightmare.
But this was no dream. She was awake now, wide awake, and she was not alone. Whatever lived here before her wanted her gone.
"I'm leaving tomorrow," she screamed into the darkness. "Just let me go."
She struggled, trying to pull her arm free of the cold grasp.
She pleaded for her life.
Through her tears, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.
The beginnings of a scream gathered in her voice box, as a huge, decrepit figure came out of the wall behind her. It was an enormous creature with hollow eyes and a jelly-like form. It spoke not a word out of its drooling mouth. Rather, it reached around her shoulders with its numerous, bony arms and placed one of its hands over her mouth to keep her from releasing that scream.
I am working on my ebook today, Creepsters.
Uploading and editing and researching and overthinking everything.
As soon as I am up and running, I will post the info for you and you can share in my story.
Till then, Creep On Creepin' On.
Why do I do #MusicMonday on this blog?
Because music is life.
The songs I post on here - more often then not - have a dark vibe to them, or maybe contain a bit of poetry, or house enough F-bombs to make me feel alive.
But the real reason that I do a #MusicMonday is because music is a part of all of us.
It connects us.
It is Life.
It is Death.
And it is everything in between.
So, please, Creepsters.
Be part of our community here.
Be part of our darkness and our soul-searching.
Be part of our story.
And be part of our #MusicMonday, because we all rock.
Without further ado, this is what I'm listening to today...
I had a lot of fun writing this piece.
It was a great adventure in creating these characters and seeing where they would take me.
I hope, you too, enjoy the journey.
The Caretaker Nightmare #34
Her name was Evie.
She walked into my dim, dreary office at the end of the workweek.
She had long legs, short hair and an insatiable taste for acoustics.
She preferred pastels;
looked good in blue jeans;
and smelled like sugar cookies in December.
She lit up the room.
And for this she would have to be punished;
Sent away, forever.
After all, I could not have my darkness disturbed -
the spell broken.
I could not have a single shred of light puncture my shade.
And she definitely looked like someone who would want to extinguish the night.
It made me sick for what I had to do.
I didn't want to snuff out her light, but I had to do it.
I had to prove myself;
Show my worth;
Send a message to the others in my profession.
You see, my work is not some menial task.
No, my work is essential.
It's for the corporation. Thy corporation.
The ones who determine where our souls go to either rot or to flourish.
I could not be interrupted by her lure;
By her sparkle.
So, I accompanied her into the night.
Took up her offer of drink and dance until the wee hours of the morning.
I knew I could poison her drink;
Maybe con her into some dark alley;
Choke out her glow.
And the remorse, well, it would only be temporary.
After a day or two, I would forget all about Miss Evie and carry about my business as usual.
That's the nature of things and I've had to do so in the past;
Had to put many precious flowers to rest.
But that's part of the job ~ the one I agreed to years ago.
Hell, maybe it's been eons now, but I made my pact with blood and I must honor my side of the bargain - and I hate to admit it, but it's quite a rush to have such power; such influence.
I try not to abuse the skills I possess, but sometimes it's hard not to show off my talents;
To flaunt my carving skills;
You see, I am of a specific importance to the underworld.
I make the decisions - the important ones - of who gets to live forever and who gets to be forgotten.
I am the collector of souls; the keeper of spirits; the night watchman.
I consider myself upper management, if you will.
I make or break people.
And even though I would've loved to be stronger than my own will and not have taken Evie to bed with me that morning, I am still only a mortal and quite weak.
And I'm a sucker for long legs.
As I look back upon it now, I can see where I made my mistakes -
when I lost the upper hand.
It was somewhere between her legs and the melting sunrise that spilled into the room.
And to be honest, it didn't hurt as much as I had imagined.
Maybe she was being kind - perhaps she had a soft spot for me as well - or maybe she was just more of a professional. Whatever the case, the puncture to my abdominal hurt only for a minute, and then it went dark.
And as I examine all the information left in my head, I realize that I was replaceable all this time - that the pact wasn't for eternity, but rather, for a lifetime.
And that I, too, would have to pay for my sins;
Be charged for my debt;
Succumb to my fate.
And even though my fate is not what I had imagined for myself,
I must admit that those last minutes of mortality were the best I had felt in years -
The warmth of the morning sun upon my back;
That taste of burnt liquor that lingered on my lips;
And that sweet smell of cookies...
Beautiful and haunting.
That’s what I hope you get from this short story.
Enjoy it, Creepsters.
Nostalgia Nightmare #144 written by: Deevious
The gloomy shades of winter cast their shadows upon the day and the early night settled in.
A night that made him feel cold and alone.
He longed for a time that had past;
A time so sweet that it left its mark on his memory, like a handprint in cement.
But John knew she wasn't coming back.
He knew she was gone.
His heart told him so, or rather the void in it did.
Was it such a bad thing for them to have been so happy?
To have found each other in this crazy, mixed-up world?
Why couldn't they have had more time?
More good moments?
He blamed himself.
She was distracting him from his mission.
He knew that's why she was taken from him.
He should have just left her alone.
Ignored her that day in the coffee shop.
Shunned her when she bumped into him and dropped her cup.
He should have never extended his hand and introduced himself.
He should have resisted her smile and laughter and charm.
He should have never spoke her name...
What kind of name is that for a lady, anyhow?
But it fit her perfectly -
Her steampunk style;
Her classic, chiseled features;
He thinks back to that first meeting with a smile.
Such an impression they had on each other.
But he also knew in that special moment, as soon as he repeated her name, he knew certain wheels had been set into motion.
He knew it was dangerous territory, but he fell hard and fast and needed to be around her. Her energy was contagious. Her manner, intoxicating. She made him better somehow, and above anything else, she made him happy. A feeling he hadn't had in eons.
"At least I'll have the memories," he whispered aloud.
And he'll savor those memories, like morsels of food, until time decides to take that away as well.
He couldn't even be angry anymore.
He was exhausted from all the hostility.
He just wanted to be done with this world.
Done with himself.
He needed the rest.
He was so tired nowadays.
Tired of the shadows only he could see;
Of the voices only he could hear;
Of the messages he was sent to deliver;
Of this curse he was destined to live.
He was just thankful that he hadn't been the one who had to take Cooper.
That would have been awful;
No bouncing back from that one.
Maybe the Powers knew that and spared him that chore.
He mentally thanked them.
He stored his memories of Cooper into the back of his mind for later.
She did not belong here where he was now.
He would not taint her memory with such an act.
He would pull out those thoughts of her later and sift through them like old photographs and fall asleep dreaming of her.
But for now, he had business to tend to.
He made a pact and he must stick to his end until it was all finished;
Until he was allowed to move on.
Then, maybe, the Powers That Be would allow him to see Cooper again.
Even if they allowed it for a brief moment;
To see her in all of her glory and light;
To spend the afterlife with her.
That was something to look forward to indeed.
Now, he had to focus.
He took a deep breath and pushed Cooper into the recesses of his mind.
He was here on business and he had to focus.
John licked his finger and ran it over his scythe.
He inspected the house - it's clapboard siding; the cookie-cutter shutters; a wrought iron gate that he locked behind him.
He walked up the sidewalk;
Up the three steps on the porch;
Right up to the red oak door.
They weren't expecting him at this time of day, if at all.
They never do.
He took a deep breath and walked into the house.
I was reading a short story and came across this description of a book store.
I loved it so much I just had to share it with you.
"It was one of those old shops...in which the room was so small and the books so many that to move a step was to imperil your safety. Books ran in thick, tight rows from floor to ceiling everywhere, were piled in stacks upon the ground and hung in perilous heaps over chairs and window ledges."
This is a somber piece that invaded my thoughts a few years back. I had no choice but to give it life; To listen to it as it spoke to me and - as best as I could - to give it a voice. It is dark. It is disturbing. And I hope it reminds you appreciate everything and everyone good in your life. Unanswered Did she forget how the sun felt on her skin?How a cool breeze could twirl her hair?How the sand had tickled her toes?
Did she forget about the taste of chocolate brownies or how her mouth would water, almost painfully so, right before she bit into a granny smith apple?Forget about the smell of freshly made popcorn? The aroma of chocolate chip cookies as they were pulled from the oven?
Did she forget what it was like to awake in the early morning, curl up beside her lover and breathe him in as he held her close?
Could she not remember Christmas?The glow of stringed lights?The way the snow would glisten upon the driveway, like glitter on an art room floor?
Did she forget her favorite song?Or the way she could laugh, almost with failure to breathe, over a rerun of Seinfeld?Did she forget about that book she started to read?
Would she miss her dog?
Did she just get tired?
What was she thinking as she tightened that white leather belt around her neck? As those silver circle notches began to leave their imprint? What were her thoughts when she was choking out that little girl who made sand angels on the beach?While she was suffocating the teenager who experimented with make-up and boys?While she was snuffing out the last of the young woman who had just started to plan her wedding?
I am reading some Edgar Allan Poe and wanted to share the following passage with you.
It's haunting and it's horror at its best.
❤ I love his words...
“....no event is so terribly well adapted to inspire the supremeness of bodily and of mental distress, as is burial before death. The unendurable oppression of the lungs - the stifling fumes of the damp earth - the clinging to the death garments - the rigid embrace of the narrow house - the blackness of the absolute Night - the silence like a sea that overwhelms - the unseen but palpable presence of the Conqueror Worm - these things, with the thoughts of the air and grass above, with memory of dear friends who would fly to save us if but informed of our fate, and with consciousness that of this fate they can never be informed....these considerations, I say, carry into the heart, which still palpitates, a degree of appalling and intolerable horror from which the most daring imagination must recoil. “
I am a sucker for some dubstep, and if you add Halloween into the mix, well...
This is such a great collection.
I hope you find it as entertaining and creepy as I do.
Rock On, Creepsters. ❤
Are you familiar with this show?
If you haven't seen it yet, and you get a chance, check it out. It's a funny one.
And if you're already a fan, than you're already laughing at this short video...
Check it out, Creepsters.
And celebrate Halloween proudly!
Happy Weekend ❤
Here's a great little short story perfect for the Halloween season.
I wrote this a while back and although it's a throwback Thursday pick, it's still timeless in its horror.
Hope you enjoy it, Creepsters. 💀
Breakfast - Nightmare #117
I awoke, not knowing the hour.
All I could smell was bacon.
I sensed something too ~ the fact that I wasn't alone.
I bolted upright in bed; my heart racing; my nerves uneasy.
Struggling with my surroundings in the prominent darkness, my mind ached as it came out of some sort of dream that had dissolved with my sudden movement.
I tried to focus, unsure where I was and unable to determine anything familiar in the room.
And although I couldn't fully envision anything for certain, my other senses were working perfectly.
I could hear something breathing.
It was a low, interrupted wheezing sound, like that of an elderly man with emphysema.
I dared not speak. Figured the sound was just in my head - a leftover morsel of a bad dream.
But I heard the breathing again.
It sounded closer this time.
My mind raced with ideas and scenarios and questions and ways to escape.
I doubted that I could make it to the light switch; questioned if I could even find it.
I decided to sink down, slowly, with the least possible movement or noise.
I slipped back under the blankets, using them as a sort of protective shield. If I'm covered up, nothing can possibly get in. Right?!
Oh, the false teachings we're given as children. I pulled the warm covers over top my head, allowing only the slightest slit for my nose.
I tried to calm my breathing; thought happy thoughts of vacation and lovers; told myself this was all just an overactive imagination; a late-night snack fighting me back.
I listened intently, the silence cutting through my ears like a locomotive's horn.
I no longer heard the wheezing.
Definitely just my mind playing tricks on me.
And then, I heard a tussle of my blankets.
I felt the warmth of a breath on my face. No. No. No.
It's breath smelled, at first, like bacon sizzling in a frying pan on a Sunday morning.
Then, it turned. It turned sour and bitter, like milk left on the counter overnight. I tried not to vomit. Tried desperately not to breath it in; not to acknowledge it at all.
Don't open your eyes. Do not open your eyes. I squeezed them tighter. Clenched my jaw and prayed silently, hoping God really could hear my thoughts.
A horrific scream stung my ears. A wail so loud, it was like a knife jabbing me in the chest. I caught my breath. My eyes could only react and they jolted open.
I couldn't take it back. It had seen me. Worse yet, It had seen me seeingIt.
And I knew at that very moment I was going to die. Maybe worse than that, suffer and then die.
I knew it just as sure as you know a cop's siren is meant for you and not the guy in front of you. I knew it like you know you're going to puke ~ that awful churning feeling, coupled with a rancid taste and a dizzy head. And I did. I threw up. I threw up all over this thing.
This thing could only be described as a creature; some sort of specimen that those cryptozoologists would love to have in their labs. It was all twisted and taut, it's body resembling a tree more so than a human or animal. It's eyes were red and glossy with a milky substance that oozed from its corners.
My God did it stink ~ a terrible smell that emulated the laundry room of a hospital.
It had no mouth, and for a moment I was relieved knowing I wouldn't be it's next meal. But then its neck opened up.
Yep, it's goddamn neck opened up like the trunk of a car. It let go another scream, just as horrendous as the first one. It's neck vibrated, releasing a spray of what could only be described as motor oil.
I screamed back. Just as loud and just as long.
The creature stopped.
It stood up, revealing to me its enormous size.
Tilting its head, and towering by, at least 12 feet, it studied me for a moment.
Then, it leaned in. We were face to mangled face.
I covered my mouth with my hands forcing the scream to a muffle.
I started to cry.
Again, the creature opened its neck and spat the oil at me.
I closed my eyes from the sting. Suddenly, I felt tired.
Very, very tired...
I awoke, not knowing the hour.
All I could smell was bacon. ~Deevious~