Scary stories I wrote

The Haunting of the Velvet Purse

In a quiet corner of the town stood "Clara's Curiosities," an antique shop that time seemed to have forgotten. The bell above the door tinkled softly as Clara, the shopkeeper, carefully dusted off a new item for her window display. It was a small, vintage velvet purse-a deep burgundy shade, with golden embroidery that had faded with time. Clara had found it at a dusty estate sale, buried beneath old linens. Something about the purse had called to her, almost like it wanted to be found.

The purse sat proudly in the window for a week before a young woman named Lily walked in. She had always been drawn to antique shops, hunting for hidden treasures, but the purse was what caught her eye immediately. It wasn't just its vintage charm; something about it felt... magnetic.

"How much for the purse?" Lily asked.

Clara hesitated. "It's... a strange item. Are you sure you want it?"

Lily laughed softly. "Strange? It's perfect."

Despite Clara's reservations, Lily purchased the purse and took it home.

That night, strange things began happening. At first, it was subtle: the sound of rustling fabric when the purse was untouched, or the faint scent of perfume that wafted through the air. Lily shrugged it off, thinking it was just her imagination, but over the next few days, things became more unsettling.

One evening, as she was getting ready for bed, she swore she saw a shadow pass behind her in the mirror. Her heart pounded as she spun around, but no one was there. She glanced at the purse, now sitting on her dresser, its golden threads glimmering faintly in the dim light.

The following night, the nightmares began. Lily dreamed of a woman, dressed in a long, flowing dress, her face pale and eyes hollow. She clutched the velvet purse in her hands, her lips whispering unintelligible words. Each night, the dreams grew more vivid, more terrifying. The woman's whispers became clearer: "It's mine. It was always mine."

Lily tried to rid herself of the purse. She stuffed it in a closet, but the nightmares continued. She tried giving it away to a friend, but it mysteriously reappeared in her home, sitting calmly on the coffee table as if it had never left. Desperation grew.

One evening, Lily returned to the shop, purse in hand. Clara's face went pale as she saw it. "You shouldn't have taken it," Clara said quietly, her voice trembling. "That purse belonged to Eleanor Monroe. She died under mysterious circumstances, and they say she never truly left it behind."

Lily's heart raced. "How do I stop this? How do I make it go away?"

Clara shook her head. "You can't. The purse is hers. She's tied to it. And now, she's tied to you."

Lily, overwhelmed with fear, threw the purse on the counter and ran out of the shop, hoping that would be the end of it. But when she returned home, there it was-sitting on her bed, its clasp open as if waiting for her.

That night, the dreams grew more intense. The woman-Eleanor-stood at the foot of her bed, holding the purse. But now, her whispers were loud and clear.

"You took what's mine... Now I take what's yours."

Lily screamed, but no sound came out. She could feel Eleanor's cold presence creeping closer, the room suffocatingly still. As the figure leaned over her, Lily felt her breath being pulled away, her vision blurring.

The next morning, when Clara opened her shop, the purse was back in its usual spot, resting peacefully in the window. Only this time, if you looked closely, you could see the faintest reflection of a woman's face in the glass-her eyes dark and hollow, watching... waiting.

And the purse, it seemed, was still searching for its next owner.

Word count not including this: 640