𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 - Short Halloween stories

The Weight of Shadows

I am not one to dwell on my own thoughts, yet in the chill of autumn's embrace, the shadows grow long, and I find myself trapped in the labyrinth of my mind. It was a night like this when the chill seeped into my bones, just before the moon draped the world in silver and silence.

My abode lies at the edge of a forest, a crumbling relic of better days, its walls steeped in the echoes of forgotten laughter. The townsfolk shun me now, their eyes flickering with suspicion whenever I dare to tread the cobblestone paths of their village. They whisper of the man who dwells in shadows, of the madness that taints my soul. But madness, I insist, is a mere veil, a shroud that cloaks the truth.

It was upon that cursed night—ah, the details burn vividly in my mind, each moment etched with torment. I had gone to the tavern, seeking warmth and companionship, but instead found a tempest of resentment brewing within me. The air was thick with smoke and laughter, yet I felt an inexplicable void, as if the very atmosphere conspired against my spirit.

He was a man of stature, a braggart whose voice boomed like thunder, mocking the lowly and extolling his own vices. I remember the way he cast scorn upon the poor wretches who sought solace at the bar. A fire ignited within me, a desire to extinguish his arrogance. I left the tavern with a reckless heart, my mind swirling with dark resolve.

The moonlight guided my steps toward the forest, where shadows danced with sinister glee. I found him there, stumbling drunkenly, the stench of ale clinging to him like a shroud. Words slipped from my lips, laden with malice. He turned, his expression shifting from mirth to confusion as I advanced upon him. A confrontation ensued, raw and brutal, the likes of which I had only read in the dark tomes that lined my shelves.

In that haze of fury, I seized a jagged stone, its weight a comfort in my palm. The impact was a grotesque symphony, the sound echoing into the abyss of the night. His eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief before darkness claimed him. I stood over him, panting, the stone slipping from my grasp as I beheld the stillness that enveloped his body. 

In the aftermath, the world grew eerily quiet. I fled, the weight of my actions pressing down upon me like the heavy cloak of winter. Each step through the forest felt like a descent into hell, branches clawing at my skin, whispering secrets of my sin. I returned home, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm, my mind racing with the implications of my deed.

Days turned into weeks, yet the shadows clung to me, curling around my thoughts like a serpent. I ceased to venture into town; I could not bear the weight of their stares, the unspoken accusations woven into their glances. Instead, I isolated myself, lost in the grip of my guilt, an unwelcome guest in my own mind.

I took to wandering the halls of my decaying home, where the flickering candles cast long shadows that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The portraits of my ancestors glared down at me, their eyes filled with judgment. I became a prisoner of my own design, shackled by the horror of what I had wrought.

It was in the depths of this solitude that the whispers began. They slithered through the cracks in my mind, haunting me with fragments of that night—the low, gurgling gasp of breath escaping his lips, the blood pooling around him like a macabre tapestry. I would hear his voice, soft yet menacing, taunting me with a laughter that echoed through the empty halls.

"Come find me," it beckoned, resonating in the stillness. "You cannot escape the truth."

Sleep eluded me, replaced by a suffocating dread that coiled around my chest. I would wake, drenched in sweat, the memories clawing at my consciousness like ravenous wolves. My dreams twisted into nightmares, where his form would rise from the shadows, a specter of my guilt. I became a creature of the night, wandering my home, seeking solace that never came.

As the days grew colder, a tempest brewed outside my window, the winds howling like banshees in anguish. It was on such a night that I heard the knock—a soft, insistent sound that reverberated through the silence. My heart raced as I approached the door, dread pooling in my stomach. Who would dare to disturb my solitude?

I hesitated, my hand trembling on the handle. The wind howled louder, and the knock came again, more forceful this time. I flung the door open, and there stood a figure cloaked in shadows. The face was obscured, but the voice was unmistakable—the voice of the man I had slain.

"Why do you hide?" he asked, his tone mocking yet hollow. "Come, let us dance in the moonlight."

A scream clawed at my throat, but no sound emerged. I stumbled back, the darkness closing in around me. He stepped forward, the shadows coiling around his form, merging with the night as if he were one with it.

"Embrace your fate," he whispered, and the air grew thick with the scent of decay.

I fled deeper into my home, desperate to escape the nightmare that had materialized before me. I locked the door, the sound echoing like a death knell. But the whispers intensified, filling every crevice of my mind, urging me to confront my guilt, to acknowledge the horror I had wrought.

I was no longer alone; the shadows had taken residence within me, feeding on my despair. Each creak of the floorboards echoed with his laughter, each flicker of candlelight a reminder of the blood that stained my hands. I was trapped, a marionette in a grotesque play of my own making.

As the night wore on, the boundaries between reality and madness began to blur. I stood before the mirror, my reflection twisted and distorted, the man I once was drowned in the depths of my guilt. The shadows whispered sweet nothings, wrapping me in their embrace, coaxing me to join them.

And in that moment, I understood: I could never escape the weight of my sins. The darkness would always be a part of me, a relentless companion in my descent into madness. So I surrendered, relinquishing the last remnants of my sanity to the shadows that danced around me.

As dawn broke, I was but a hollow shell, lost within the depths of my own making, a madman forever entwined in a dance with the specter of my crime. The forest outside sighed in the morning light, but within these walls, the night would never end.

Marni speaks

Hi guys welcome to my first book and happy spooky season month today is the story that was heavily inspired was the tell tale heart by Edgar Allen Poe. I really hope you like this story and yeah

Bye my Barnies