Spine-Chilling Stories in English & Spanish - Historias de terror en inglés y español
Multiple authors - Varios autores
Both languages will be in each chapter. English first, then Spanish.
Las historias estarán en los dos idiomas en cada capítulo. P...
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I feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I hold the knife in my hands. I don't need to see his face, but I know he's smiling. I feel my lips curl. I raise the weapon and drop it... again and again. Blood begins to gush and I feel it on my skin, still warm.
I rise from the bed, drenched in cold sweat. My limbs tremble and I instinctively hug myself.
"Not again" I mutter under my breath before touching my forehead and closing my eyes.
I press my lips together and my chest feels like it's being squeezed. I wish it was a dream, a horrible nightmare, but I know it's not.
I've only had visions like this a few times in my life, and they were real. Too real.
I lick my lips before reaching for my phone. It's two in the morning, but I know my Aunt Lilly will answer me. She promised to be there if I needed her. And I need her now.
The phone rings a few times before I hear her voice.
"Clara, are you okay?"
"It's happening again," I whisper, pulling the blanket tighter around me because I'm still shaking.
"The dreams?"
"Yes."
"Have you told anyone else?"
"Not yet."
"Good, don't. Don't go to the police, we know how they act. Come home. I'll talk to your parents."
Tears cloud my visión. "Why is this happening to me, Auntie? I see everything so clearly, and that's not the worst of it, I feel it. I feel the power, the euphoria and the happiness when I stick the knife in." I let out a sob. I'm sick.
"Calm down, Clara. Come home and we'll talk about it, okay?"
"Okay."
We say goodbye and I leave my cell phone to start packing a suitcase. My parents and my aunt live about four hours away, in a small town in the middle of nowhere. A theoretically quiet town. At least it was before my classmates started disappearing. We appeared on the map as a cursed town where terrible things happened. The news said a serial killer was stalking us, but no evidence was ever found.
A chill runs down my spine. That was when my dreams started. I tried to go to the police, but they didn't believe a twelve-year-old girl. I don't know if my parents believed me either at the time. The only one who believed me was my aunt, but I think it had something to do with the fact that she is a psychiatrist. She gave me a treatment that turned me into a zombie, but the visions, as I liked to call them, disappeared.
Although I guess not forever, because they came back.
As I was leaving my bedroom, I got a call from my mother. "Clara, beautiful, are you on your way?"
