So both my friend, Drishti, and I are huge fans of horror stories/movies which makes you dive under the blankets, curl into a foetal position and wail about how our lives have been destroyed and we will never look at cameras/fog/the sun/insert anything you want here ever again. Kind of makes you wonder why we even read or watch horror, huh?
Since our discussions occasionally centre around topics like Creepypasta and disturbing takes on kid’s stories or nursery rhymes, it was perhaps inevitable that we would start creating our own horror.
So without further ado, and with the intention of
turning our readers into a paranoid mess of freaked out mental patients providing enjoyment to our readers, we present to you a compilation of all our horror!
[WARNINGS for gore and suicide (so there may be triggers. I don’t know…)]
Drishti’s two-line stories:-
BIRTHDAY: My mom called me up and wished me a happy birthday in her sweet, mellow voice. I cut the line immediately; my mom has been dead for seven years.
PICTURE: Her pretty eyes stared at me, smiling, as I held the picture of her lovingly.
Her eyes then shifted to look at something behind me.
NO GHOSTS: “There are no ghosts in the house,” I told my daughter as I opened the door of her storage room to give her assurance.
The corpse of my dead mother stared back at me.
PROM NIGHT: I really wished I could go to the prom with the guy I had a crush on.
I turned pale as I saw the corpse of my crush in a tattered tuxedo and a bouquet of withering roses in is pale hands outside my door.
DADDY: My dad always slept next to me for as long as I can remember.
My mom told me that my dad dies a few days after I was born.
(NO TITLE): As I sat sobbing softly in my living room, my wife wiped the tears of my face from behind me.
I don’t know what was scarier–the fact that she was buried the day before, or that she was in her wedding dress.
My two-liners/the mentioned disturbing takes on poems:
BIRTHDAY#2: My mother calls me every year on my birthday and she always says she’s arranging a reunion.
I cry every time because she died when I was born.
FLYING: I used to stare at the sky and wonder what it was like to fly. I finally understood just a moment before the rope snapped my neck.
PARENTS/TEACHERS WILL HATE ME:
Mary had a little lamb,
It’s fleece as white as snow.
And everywhere Mary went,
The lamb was sure to go.
It followed her to school one day,
Which was against the rules.
And so the children carved into the lamb,
And devoured the poor thing raw.
Johnny was a sweet little child,
But the love he got was mild.
Johnny was an angry little child,
And the bodies of mates he piled.
There are several great writers on the internet addicted to writing and publishing horror stories, most of which can be found on creepypasta or referred to from there. The following list has stories which I found on that site, or have been referred to by someone.
Psychosis. A brilliant portrayal of madness, and how it helps in its own way. Seriously, go read this now. [Warning: You will be tempted to lock yourself in a bare room. And then stab your eyes out with your fingers. I suggest you don’t though.]
Cave Children. This one is long, though gratifying. Teaches you to be wary of new things. [Warning: Capable of inducing hyperventilation.]
The Spirit Child. Okay, read this if you are absolutely sure that your brain will not explode. Do not take this warning lightly. That said, it is actually a Sherlock (BBC) fanfiction, though it contains no *ahem* explicit stuff. The names can be easily changed and some lines tweaked to make it an original fiction. You do not need to have prior knowledge of the show but it will probably distort your views of the characters if you decide to watch it.
No End House. Never ever EVER go on haunted house dares. At the end of this story, you will learn why. Also, you may be laughing hysterically.
And that’s the list. For now. Happy reading!
Psst: I need to know if any of you died in the middle of this post of a heart attack but are still reading this.
A/N: You can address either Drishti or me in the comments to tell us how much we may have freaked you out. Constructive criticism is highly appreciated. Compliments and/or crying over the ficlets will make me flail happily. I do not know about Drishti, but I suspect she will do some flailing of her own too.