As I turned the corner, shadows loomed before me. From the darkness⌠he emerged. The blood dripping off the end of his knife, the smell of the rotting flesh thick in the air. All I can do is hang there helplessly. I watch his every movement, wondering why my back feels damp and my skin feels tight, that's when I realize, he isn't alone. "Look at her, the fear in her eyes. The way the gag stuffs her mouth perfectly. The way the rope has rubbed against her pale skin, the bruising, and oh my the blood" I watch it trickle down her arms as my eyes roam her body admiring my handy work. I stand behind her with my knife in hand, she's my first, I've never done this before, my hands start to shake until I see how confident my leader is. That one gentle nod was all I needed. I slide the blade in between her 2nd and 3rd rib, it was so smooth, like buttering a piece of toast. I thought. I watched as the blood oozed out, I lick my lips wanting more, and say "the real fun can now begin...."
A part from resin craft, i was working on this mask for Halloween. It's the đˇ from Saw? I was playing Dead by daylight and it was the only villain who managed to scare me so im going as it for Halloween.
The Scariest Story of all: It was September 2019 and my friend asked me to accompany her shopping in the recently-build 3 storey building Mall in our area. Ofcourse I was glad to come, besides its gonna be her Birthday in a few days. So I decided to buy her a new pair of Shoes. We were strolling along the 2nd floor left Alley when suddenly theres somebody who whispered in my ear. It was soft and chilling, i nearly had goosebumps. I tried to ignore it because I know we were alone in that Alley. But few minutes later, I saw something from my peripheral vision. It was distorted black figure on the ground. I tried to blink my eyes. And then its gone. My Friend suddenly catched my attention because I was staring blankly. She snapped her Fingers in front of me and asked me if I was ok. Then she asked me if I felt âitâ too. I said- what?. Suddenly the atmospere becomes cold and suffocating. We ran inside a boutique. We were shaking. I asked her, What was that. She told me to be quiet. We noticed there was this other customer strolling inside the boutique wearing an old white filthy dress. We followed her until suddenly she passes through the wall like ghost freely floating around the place. I tried to scream but my friend stopped me and told me about the story behind that building. It was a year and a half ago when that place was devastated by heavy flood and landslides. All the houses are washed out and people were trapped and they died. She calmed me down. I told her we got to go now. But she refuses. I asked her why? She said we have to find first the perfect Shoes for her Birthday. I agreed and then we moved on to the Shoe Department on the Groundfloor. I was very vigilant since then,of the people around us, checking if they have feet or if theyre freely floating around the air. Thanks God we are safe. We are at the Cashier ready to pay the item. I searched for my Card and swiped it on the machine. âBeepâ insufficient balance. Cold sweats run throughout my body realizing that my Salary was all spent yesterday paying bills, rent, electicity and loans from the bank. Nothing left. Title :The Salary
GRANDMA'S HOUSE This is a good topic and I have lots to choose from. However, I'm not the best writer so I'll go for my experience that can be explained the quickest. It was the summer of 2011, I believe. I was hanging out at grandma's all day, like most days. My grandma is a character.... strong-willed, nonetheless, and didn't care what anyone thought about her or our family. People thought a lot about our family, especially my grandma. I don't know how or why the rumors started, but it didn't matter. To everyone in our small, catholic community, we were evil. Not just like mean people, but evil. There were stories spread that my grandma was an evil bruja and made a deal with Satan to spawn my mom. They believed my mom to be the anti-christ and her children (me and my siblings) to be demons sent to taint their community. The people of our community believed this rumor so much, that they would yell at me and my siblings to get away from their children when we were playing with each other, "Get away, demon children. Go back to your bruja." đ¤ˇđ˝ââď¸ Oh well. We didn't mind much because we had each other to play with anyways. Plus, we didn't really understand what the community meant when they would yell at us like that. We were children, we didn't have any real concept of what evil was. Until it was time for bed. I don't know if our background had anything to do with it or if the community rumors sprung up for good reason, but what I do know is at grandma's house, no one would get a good night's sleep. Well, except grandma. Grandma's house was where I knee that when it got dark, I wouldn't be able to tell what was real or not. 10 years later and I still don't know for sure. But you need to sleep eventually, right? So, 11 year old me is getting ready for bed. I slept in a room at grandma's that had a unique sense of decor. My memory of the specific details fade, but the room was black, gold, and covered in giant mirrors. Don't ask me why. Grandmas.... I only add these details because they're part of my memory, but I have no idea if they correlate to what would happen next. I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember waking up. Terrified. Unable to move. Unable to speak. Or maybe I was too scared to try? I couldn't see anything in front of me, not that the light illuminating behind me gave that option. The light casted from the lamp behind me conveniently stopped at the edge of the bed. Beyond that was darkness. It didn't take long for my eyes to adjust, my heart still pounding in fear for a reason I haven't figured out yet. What's.. that? In the darkness. A swaying silhouette. Now two... Now five.. seven? How many are there? My heart pounding so hard it feels as though it will burst through my chest. And those things.. Now they're crawling towards me, all at once. I use the term crawling loosely, I don't know how to describe exactly how they moved, but they were coming closer. No! I must be sleeping! Close my eyes! Go to sleep! ........ Ok. When I wake up, it'll be morning they'll be gone. They're even closer now! Go to sleep! Go to sleep! Go to sleep! Only now, every time I open my eyes they get closer and closer. They won't touch me, this is a dream. They can't touch me. Go to sleep! Did I say they just get closer every time I close my eyes?.. Now they're on me. Ouch! Oh God, why do this hurt? What's happening? ..... Fin. 𤣠that's all. That's all I remember. I don't remember what happened after or if I was sleeping or if I was awake. Maybe it was sleep paralysis? This did happen before I knew that was a thing. Sorry, to end it like that, but I told you all, I'm not a writer𤣠I wrote what I remember happening and probably didn't even write it well𤣠I hope you all were able to understand what I was trying to write. I hope you all enjoyed.
The Psychopomp Warning: The following story is both real and a recollection of my own personal account. For some context, I live with a roommate in a two-bedroom apartment in a fairly suburban area of Northern California. Being as Iâm reaching the end of my bachelorâs program, growing deadlines and increased workloads are a fairly common occurrence for me. As you mightâve guessed, this is a perfect cocktail for sleep deprivation. While I have experienced sleep paralysis a few times in my life, my most recent experience has left me both frightened and pensive of what may be veiled behind our known consciousness. I had stayed up fairly late working on a research proposal and had gotten in to bed not ten minutes before the clock struck three. My roommate had already gone to bed a few hours ahead of me, their room just a few feet across the hallway from mine. I could make out what sounded like a faint humming coming from their room, I associated the sound to the calm music playlist they often play before bed and paid it no mind. âAs the minutes passed I could feel my eyes growing heavier as I drifted to sleep. It did not take long for my body to rest after a long night of typing and straining my eyes at my small laptop screen. It couldnât have been five minutes since I had closed my eyes when there it was again, the humming. It had returned, but this time it was in my room, ringing inside my ears so loudly I opened my eyes ready to jolt out of bed and tell my roommate to shut it off. Upon opening my eyes, I noticed I was facing my closet, the full-length mirror concealing my closet door reflected my confused expression as I laid on my side. As I attempted to move, I felt a heavy pressure weighing down on my chest. My arms and knees all locked down against my mattress and sheets like I had been glued down by the strongest of adhesives. I tried to scream for help, but only silence escaped my lips. As my body and face kept facing the mirror, I noticed a dark figure standing in the corner of my room, I could feel it approaching despite not being able to see much through the darkness. Then my roommateâs voice broke the silence, âDONâT BE SCARED, WE ARE GOING INTO THE DARKNESS WITH HERMES.â Thatâs when the dark figure in the corner of my room stepped into the light emitting from my bedroom window. A tall man dressed in white robes and a crown adorned with leaves and wings made his way to me and leap behind my motionless body. Tears began streaming down my face as I felt powerless against this entity, this god? I mustered all my strength to move one of my fingers (a trick an old friend of mine taught me to get out of sleep paralysis). After what felt like years, I managed to move my limbs and throw myself against the carpet of my bedroom floor. I sat there clutching a dislodged pillow catching my breath. After inspecting my apartment and drinking a glass of water, I opened my laptop and searched up Hermes, the Olympian god of Ancient Greece. Iâve always had a liking for Greek mythology but never dived deep enough into its lore as I did that night. Hermes, is the protector of heralds, thieves, travelers, and merchants. With his winged sandals he is able to traverse between the land of the living and the divine. He is a psychopomp, a deity that leads the souls of the deceased into the afterlife. âIn Jungian psychology, the psychopomp is a mediator between the unconscious and conscious realms. It is symbolically personified in dreams as a wise man or woman, or sometimes as a helpful animal.â â (cited from Wikipedia) Wether I was visited by a true deity that night, I will never know. But the connection between my experience and what is considered myth is beginning to grow thinner the more I ponder on it. My mom tells me I have always had a vivid imagination, recollecting several instances in my childhood when I have seen or sensed things that have left my family in awe. I still donât know what to make of all this, wether I was truly dreaming, dying, or simply experiencing a new spiritual awakening. Whatever it may be, I hope that Hermes doesnât take me or my roommate into the darkness any time soon.
As I turned the corner, shadows loomed before me. From the darkness I feel a presence staring. I feel, hear and smell the presence all around me. It is like drowning in a cesspool of despair and terror. They whisper vile and wicked things. I have to get away but the presence pulls the chains and I am restrained in place. It is dark and cold...and oh so lonely. I think of the better daysâmy favorite dessert, my family, my love. The presence doesn't like that. They howl and are beside me at once. "Nobody is going to get you out of here. Nobody wants you. Nobody loves you. Stay. Stay with me always", the insidious voice whispers tauntingly, almost sweetly. The presence puts their arms around me and I turn into the embrace. I look up at the familiar face of my captorâa gaunt, pale and melancholic visage. I wept; for I was looking into my own eyes. I am trapped in my own mind. Won't somebody help me please?
Hello All Here is my Haiku: Ding Dong! Trick or Treat! Give me something good to eat! Run! Here comes the Witch Hopefully the photo posts, it sets the scene (also I am not a regular drawer xD)
Not sure why it still isnât working for you! The link was correct :0 Iâll post the image for you here đ¤
Second Chance I woke up late with a terrible hang- over. I checked my clock and saw it was around 7am. Yes! I am late from work again! F... Ever since my girlfriend left me, things have changed. I neglected work. I stopped talking to my family and friends. I didn't eat properly. I stopped living. Everyday was one step to my grave. I rushed to my bathroom and took a quick bath. I got my bag and drove to work. I didn't even bother to have breakfast. Same old story. Same routine. Same faces. Life is dull. I left my unfinished books at my manager's desk. I didn't even bother to greet anybody. And same thing, nobody dared to greet me. It feels like I don't exist. I went ahead to the common pantry and took a sip on my beer inside my tumbler. Damn this life. Why am I still living? I dont have the interest to even live anymore. Why do I still have to do all these things? For what? While looking at my tumbler, I remember that night when she finally broke the issue.... Our common friends told me they saw my gf dating someone else. And they noticed something odd. She was with him in most of their outings and friends gatherings. They told me to confront her. I never did. Because I trusted her. Even though we were in LDR since we studied in different college, I never thought that she will cheat on me. I respected her freedom and individuality. If she likes to hangout with friends, she can as she will. One night, I asked her what is her plan after her licensure exam. Because I am planning to get a condo unit or a housing loan in Manila for us to live in after marriage. She suddenly looked at me. And I looked at her. Her guilty looks made me sick to my stomach and I felt something is wrong. She suddenly cried and held my hand. "I am sorry... I am pregnant." Something struck my heart. Because I know her child isn't mine. "Who is the father?" She never answered me and instead she cried and cried and beg for forgiveness. I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to hurt her but I never did. I wanted to explode and break everything that I see. I punched the wall and I didn't even felt anything even when I was bleeding. She was trying to calm me down. Six years and she threw it away. After I cried enough. I asked her what is her plan. She said she will keep the baby. I asked her, who she will choose. She said she won't stay with me. Not with what she has done. I was so desperate I even told her I will marry her and be the father of her child. But what she told me broke me. She no longer loves me the way she did before. So I told her that I will drive her home. For months I tried to fix our relationship. I begged her to leave him. To choose me. I disregarded my pride. But after 4 months of our breakup, she was getting married. I saw her wedding photos on fb. Her baby pictures of her cute daughter. Her heartfelt caption on her wedding profile with her husband saying how lucky she is and how much she loves his husband. My family tried to reach out to me. My mom told me to stop bothering her and I need to move on. I should not throw my life away. My brothers would even visit me every weekend and advise me to cheer up. Is it easy to move on? I took another sipped on my beer. F... This life! I felt the rage. I got out from the pantry and took my bag. I finished the beer inside my tumbler and went off from work. I don't care if I lose my job. F... I went to the nearest convenience store and bought six packs of beer. I went straight to the seaside and had my drinking session again. It was night time when I got home. It's weird.. lights are on and there are so many people outside. My relatives. My family. My batchmates. My colleagues. Everyone. Lights are too bright. There is a vigil inside my house. As I enter the house, I saw my picture on top of the coffin. Is this a joke? My mom was sitting and crying beside my dad. My brothers are also there. Some are welcoming the guests. Am I dead? I looked inside the coffin. I saw myself. I was in shocked. I couldn't believe this. All this time I am a lost soul and I didn't know I am dead.. My Auntie approached my mom and they hugged. She asked her what happened. "He was rushed to the hospital yesterday. Doctor said he drank so much that his body couldn't handle the alcohol." Seeing my mom cried... Seeing my dad out of himself. My brothers were crying and some of my closest friends.. I couldn't handle it. How can I hurt them? Why did I do this? Is dying the only choice I have to have a peaceful mind? Why did I drank myself to death? I fell to my knees and cried and said sorry to my mom. While I'm seeing all her tears and pain because of me. Because of what I did to myself.. I hope I made a better decision. If only I could turn back the time. I will make it better. ...... .......... I slowly opened my eyes. It's a white room. I couldn't feel my body. I feel so tired and my head hurts a lot. I couldn't hear properly. It feels like I am under the water... I tried to move my head to check where I am.. This isn't my room. My brother hastily approached me and asked me if I am okay. Wait what is happening? He ran outside to call someone and the nurse came to my room together with him. She checked my status and she called for the doctor. My mom and dad came also and they were crying... I am in the hospital. They said I was in a coma for 3 days. My brother saw me in my room unconscious and cold with a weak heartbeat so they rushed me to the hospital. They said I had alcohol poisoning. My mom was kissing me all over and my dad also kissed my forehead and said "Welcome back son!" I couldn't utter a word. No words could express how sorry I am for making them worried and hurt for what I did. I cried while lying down on the hospital bed seeing my family happy because I am saved. ... ... A week after my treatment, I visited a psychiatrist to have my therapy. I started to throw away all my bottles of alcohol. And started to eat healthy. Vegetables, fruits. You name it. I quit my job and went home to my parents. I stayed at home for a couple of months. I started seeing my closest friends. I detoxified myself from the depression I had. If you are undergoing a depression. Seek help. Talk to your family or friends or anyone who will listen to you. Try to do things to keep yourself balance. Self-destruction is never the answer for all your problems. Spreading negativity won't do good. This might be my second chance of life. And not everyone is given that chance. So while you still have the chance, get help. It is never a shame to ask for help. (I know this is not the halloween entry you are expecting. But during this crisis, most people undergo anxiety, depression and breakdown. I hope whoever reads this realizes how important life is. You are important. You are loved. You exist. You stil have the chance to be happy. Don't throw it away. I planned to paint something related to this but I don't have the time to do so. Thanks for reading đ)
The Little Hands- âIâve never lived in a haunted house, but my mother did as a teen,â based on a true event. âOther houses on her street had strange things going on too. A few homes away from her lived a family. One night, the daughter went to bed with a bad headache. The next day, she was deadâsheâd passed away from an aneurysm. âAfter her funeral, the family went away to get their minds off the tragedy, and the father asked my uncleâmy momâs brotherâto check on their pets. My mom and dad (who were dating at the time) went with him; my mother had heard there was a grand piano, and she wanted to play it. My dad was studying to be a veterinarian. âAfter entering the house, my uncle and my father headed to the basement to see the animals, and my mother went to the piano on the ground floor. She was playing it when she felt something brush her ankles. She thought a cat must have left the basement and walked past her. She kept playing. And then she felt it again. âShe looked under the piano and saw nothing. When she started again, she felt hands clasp her legs tightly. She dashed to the basement door, called my uncle and father, and waited for them. Back outside, my uncle could tell my mom was rattled and asked what was wrong. âShe told him what had happened, and he turned white. He told her the daughter who had died used to play a game with her father. When he played the piano, sheâd crawl underneath, grab his ankles, and push his feet up and down on the pedals.â
đThe Eerie Attic:- âA few years ago, I moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Melbourne, Australia,â they went on to recall. âIt was my first time living on my own. The apartment block had been built in the 1930s. Iâd been there for a few months when I came home from work one day and went into the bathroom. I saw something strange: A wooden board, which had covered a hole in the ceiling that led to a small attic space, lay fractured in two pieces on the ground. I examined the pieces. The board was an inch thick, and it would have taken Bruce Lee to break it. I thought the landlord had sent someone to work on the attic. I was frozen stiff with fear. Someone is up there for sure, I thought. âI emailed pictures to the landlord, asking if anyone had been there (with an undertone of annoyance since she hadnât warned me). Her reply read, âPlease call me as soon as you are able to.â I called, and she explained that her last two tenants had said the same thing happened. She promised to replace the board, and she did. âA month later, I woke up one night around 4 a.m. My body was covered in goose bumps. It felt like someone was rubbing his or her hands on me. Everything was silent, but then I heard a dragging sound coming from above my bed. It was as if someone was pulling a sack of potatoes. I froze, convinced someone was up there. There is no way an animal could make that sound. After five minutes, I worked up the courage to turn on the light, armed myself with a cricket bat, and walked to the bathroom. âThatâs when I saw that the new board covering the hole was broken in two! I felt sick. The dragging sound had stopped. But I heard something else: whispering. The sound was clear and coming from the attic. It sounded like childrenâs voices, and I could hear one sentence repeated over and over: âItâs your turn ⌠Itâs your turn âŚâ âI switched on every light in the apartment to make things feel normal. It was 5 a.m. and dark outside. I watched TV to try to unwind. Then a fuse blew. My pet budgie, Dexter, whom I kept in the kitchen, usually never made a sound at night, but he started squawking like he was being strangled. Iâd never heard him make those sorts of noisesâhe was screaming. I grabbed my car keys, ran out, sat in my car, and waited there until the sun came up. âWhen I saw people walking their dogs, this comforted me enough to go back in. The front door was open, but I figured I mightâve forgotten to close it when I ran out. I went to the kitchen to check on Dexter, but he wasnât in his cage. âI felt sick again. All my windows were closed, so I looked everywhere inside. When I walked to the bathroom, I heard splashing. Dexter was half drowned in the toilet! I took him out, washed him, and dried him. I was so confused. At 8 a.m., I called the landlord and gave her a watered-down version of the night. âOh, wow, you heard the whispering too!â she said. âI stayed in that apartment for another 18 months. I heard the whispering on a few occasions, and twice the board covering the hole in the ceiling moved. Although I live elsewhere now, the landlord recently called. She said that her new tenants had begged to speak with me about some of the stuff thatâs been going on there. Forget itâitâs their problem now.â
đFirst of all I want to say HAPPY SPOOKY HALLOWEEN đđť My story - *THE BOY WITH NO EYES * âOne night when I was 10, I was woken up by my bedroom door opening, followed by someone sitting on my bed,â. âI felt my leg grazed and the bed sink under a personâs weight. Itâs just Mom, I thought, and I opened my eyes. âIt was not my mom. I found an eyeless boyâhe had black, empty socketsâabout my age sitting at the foot of my bed. He extended his hand, and in it was a little box. I was startled but reached out. He pulled back. I reached again and said, âGive it.â Then I blinked, and when I reopened my eyes, he was gone. But I could still see the imprint where heâd sat on my bed. âFast-forward five years. My girlfriend came over to do homework. After she finished, she took a nap while she waited for her parents. When they arrived, I tried waking her up. She opened her eyes suddenly, looking up at a corner where the wall met the ceiling. She pointed there and went back to sleep. I shook her again. She came to full consciousness, and I explained what sheâd done. She looked haunted. âUp on the wall, I saw a little boy with no eyes. He was there, in a Spider-Man pose, staring at me.â I freaked out and told her my story about the same kid. âFast-forward another five years. I was with the same girlfriend, and we had a two-year-old. We were living in my parentsâ house, in my old room. My daughter started waking up at the same time every night, and sheâd talk. After a while, I noticed she had almost the same conversation every night. I playfully asked her once whom she was talking to. She said, âItâs a little boy. Heâs nice. Heâs lost and looking for his mommy.â My daughterâs nightly conversations continued until we got our own place later that year.â
---Losing Yourself in China -- So when I was barely twenty years old I was travelling with a small group of people through China, and we were spending about two months in Qinghai province, which used to be part of Tibet. Our destinations was a specific town to teach English, but we'd been stopping often in towns and small cities along the way. One day we arrived in a rural town, very small, nothing unusual. We spent only a couple of days there, shopping for food at the markets and walking around to see the sights, although there weren't many. This was in the dead of winter, in February, and all the grass on the hills and plains around the town was dead and brown. The overall feeling was that of the normal kind of bleakness that any rural place has in the winter. At this time in my life things were going amazingly, extraordinarily well for me, and I say that because my teenagehood had been rather darkly overcast. But the overwhelming good luck of being able to travel and these close friends I'd made in the last year had more than changed my feelings and attitude towards life â it was like I was a whole new person. I was ecstatic to be in Tibet, went to sleep with a smile on my face every night. On our second day staying in this small town I woke up feeling a little odd. Not bad, just odd, like my normal thoughts and feelings had been turned down low, like on a dial. We all decided to go for a walk on the hills right behind the town, where there was a small summit with a pile of rocks and some prayer flags (to be honest there were little "altars" like these on every other hill, but it gave us something to do). As we hiked up the hills behind the town I started feeling stranger and stranger. I wasn't scared, and I didn't feel angry or any strong emotion. In fact, it was like emotion was trickling out of me somehow, and I was getting blanker and blanker, emptier and emptier. My mind started feeling a little hazy and more and more I felt like I simply didn't care about anything. A small and rapidly dwindling part of myself started to panic, knew that something bad was happening, but it was like my own inner voice was slowly getting quieter and quieter. I remember we reached the little summit and I simply sank to the ground next to the pile of rocks. Without meaning to, I started tuning out the voices around me and fixed all my attention on the little pebbles in the dirt. I began tapping one against the other, repeatedly. Do you know the kind of horror that is opposite of feeling scared or feeling anything at all? The kind of vacuous hideousness of a fly buzzing against a closed window for hours on end in an empty room? That's what was filling my mind. It was demonic in its meaninglessness. I touched my face and felt that I was grinning at nothing. Through all the emptiness a thought floated to the forefront of my mind: You should just die. At first it sounded totally reasonable, but something in me fought it and I was momentarily troubled. Right then, my group started to walk down from the hill, and I followed. The further we walked, the more normal I felt, until we left the town that afternoon and I was totally freaked out. When another girl, Hanna, mentioned in an odd off-hand way that she had felt very strange and depressed while staying there, I told her that I'd felt the same. When the group leader mentioned that a local had told him that the town had been plagued with a rash of young women under 25 committing suicide, Hanna and I went white. P.s. Based on a true event.
Real life spooky story đ (The Truculent Truck) We have never figured this out. And now, the three living witnesses have to be good and seriously drunk to discuss the whole thing. I was 7, my brother 10, my mom in her early 40s, my grandmother (her mom) in her 60â˛s. So we were all cogent. No one was too young or too senile to not recall this nonsense. Yet, still no bloody answer. Grandma lived on an isolated country road in NC that was named after her family since they were the only crazy fuckers who lived on the land for about 1000 acres. And I *do* mean crazy. We have stories about relatives that start with, âYou remember that time Uncle Bob was in the ditch with a shotgun?â âWHICH TIME?!â Her house had been empty for several weeks while sheâd been visiting us in Florida, but we were all back, spending the weekend with her before trekking back to the Sunshine state. The house is in the for real country, literally over train-tracks, past a salvage yard and her nearest neighbour (a cousin â everyone is related to everyone who owns a house on the road) ainât within screaminâ distance. Yes, that seems to be a real system of measurement â âscreaming distance" Itâs early in the AM, like just before daybreak. Weâre awake because these are farm freaks who wake at the crack of dawn from sheer ingrained habit. Weâre eating cereal when we hear someone pull up outside. Curious, we all run to the big picture window that looks onto the front yard. There is a strange truck there. No one seems to be behind the wheel, though the engine is idling. The truck is⌠well, old, for one thing. Itâs old-time like from maybe the 1930â˛s? You could picture the Joad Family heading to California in this thing. Itâs rusted but it was probably once painted blue. We stare at the thing, bewildered. Mom asks grandma if she knows who that is. Nope, not a clue, says grandma. She runs to get the phone to call her cousin and ask him to come up â she thinks maybe itâs a hired hand and heâs just at the wrong farm. Just as she asks him to come on down, the phone goes dead. Well. Thatâs unsettling. All at once, there is a loud, insistent banging on the front door. We all scream. My grandma, who is terrifyingly resourceful, huddles us all into the living room, away from a window where anyone can see us. Then, while mom, me and my brother tremble there on the couch, she grabs a serrated bread knife from the kitchen and cautiously approaches the front door. She peeks out a side window, very stealthily. She turns back to us and looks confused. She shakes her head, like, âNo one is there.â We all kind of breathe easier. Then EVERY goddamn door in the house is banging â relentlessly. I can still hear it. Rhythmic and terrifying, like all the doors are about to splinter and crack. There were two doors in the basement beneath us, so the sound is also a reverberation at our feet. The three ground-floor doors are shaking â we can see them trembling and jerking on their hinges from our vantage point on the couch. Finally, mom runs to the window â either from a psychotic break with reality or terror, I have no clue. She cries, âOh thank Christ â Cousin is here!â We run to her and peek out the picture window â there is no one that we can see in the yard, but we canât see all the doors from our viewpoint. Cousin walks by truck with a shotgun in his hand. Cousin, it should be noted, has pretty much every gun ever made. He looks puzzled, looking at the rear of the truck, then he glances in the cab window and he stops. He goes pale, runs a hand down his face. Then he RUNS towards to house, towards us. My grandmother flings open the kitchen door as she sees him coming. He shouts, âEveryone get behind the couch! Get DOWN!â He runs past us as we bolt for the couch. The banging starts AGAIN, all the doors and now we can hear the windows rattle. Itâs like a tornado or the end of the world. We are too scared to even scream. Cousin flings open the front door and fires the huge shotgun, once, BANG, deafening. As he does, the truck roars into life and it sounds like a train. We scramble up; the banging stops, mercifully. Cousin is advancing onto the lawn, gun leveled at the truck. We run behind him, wanting to be out of that shaking, quivering house and near the dude with the gun. The truck peals out, backwards, cutting across the yard and racing into a breakneck speed. Tires squeal, rubber is burned. Cousin fires again and we all cower behind him. He blows out the back window with the sound of a thousand plates smashing into linoleum but the truck never even hiccups, just roars down the road. No tags, not even a vanity plate on the back. There was NO ONE behind the wheel of that thing. We all had a clear view. Everyone agreed. Not a driver in the cab. Well. Not anything we could SEE, anyhow. The police were called (Cousin had to go home to his house to call â this was way pre-cell phone era). The phone line had been cut. There was not a single boot print in the entire yard except Cousinâs, from where heâd run into and out of the house. Cousin reported that there had been no plate but when he looked into the cab, it looked like âsomething from a horror movie.â He said there were all kinds of weird restraints â handcuffs, c-clamps, nylon straps â and he said the floorboards looked covered in what âsmelled likeâ blood to him (Cousin was famous for his keen sense of smell and the window was down, so itâs possible). Cousin said he thought he saw a blur of something out the picture window and ran to fire the first shot, but âmissedâ because, once he stood there, nothing or no one was on the lawn or in the truck. Then it shot backwards out of the yard and out of our lives, leaving no answers, just a deep sense of unease every time weâd visit. Grandma and Cousin have passed. Deeply religious people, they stuck by their unchanging versions of the story until they died. My brother, mother and I have never been able to figure it out â neither did the cops, I think it should be noted. We donât know how all the windows and doors were banging, and we donât know why we never saw a SOUL anywhere or how they could get around the sides of the house without leaving a trace in the damp earth.
The Five Souls On a day that was touched by the sun, You could see Five Joyful Souls, Playing, running and being loud, As all kids do they were having fun. As the sky got kissed by the twilight, A roaring nightmare silenced it with might, Quieted the time and space, Shut down the sun and fun, And death bloomed with grace. The Five Scared Souls ran with the wind, Mourning, weeping, is all futile, The beast doesn't judge, it just eats, Devours the flesh to the bones, He would rip the souls in a pinch. Together the Five Terrified Souls they fled, They ran away, "We are safe" they thought in weep. The beast sizzles across the mour, It already dug their tombs. The Five Crying Souls ran as they scattered, Like ants, crawling and running from water, Five ways they took, five meals the beast looked, Tender meat it craved, crimson blood it thirsted. Nowhere to run, everywhere to fall, And so fast they were, heartbeats like drums, Breaths filling the void, Shaking were the bones, Life came with five, death came alone. They knew and so they ran, No wit, no hope, no plan; just dirt to land, Ringing ears, blurred vision, the end approached. The First Soul fast and quick he was, so tired he kneeled And so he encountered the beast, The first to see, the first to fall, It ripped, it killed, the first soul Would never see. Nevermore. The Second Soul weeping he was, Running with great pace, Struck by a pinch of pain, and he fell, He looked himself as he ran, His last breath he took, and not another. Nevermore. The Third Soul as a guard she served, And a dog's death she would take, A soul weeping for life, and her own, She won't be a shield. Nevermore. The Fourth Soul took a rest and the beast came, Long was its claw, cold was the void, Under a tree he prayed, and he took his rest, Forever sleeping he is, to not be awaken. Nevermore. The smallest of the Souls, the last one Knowing no hate, he ran, Knowing no God, he begged, And so there was the beast, it was quick, Little he knew, mercy was his gift, The last meal he was, the sweetest in fact, The last soul will never see the light. Nevermore. Five Joyful Souls into the woods they ran, A hungry beast into the woods went to play, Starving it was, thirsty it felt, but remains, It was not for hunger, but sport, Starving it is and thirst he feels. Forevermore.