Spookyness

Tiny Scary Stories

The shotgun sits at my feet. In a few minutes I will load two shells, place the barrels beneath my chin and spread the insides of my skull across the ceiling. I did the same yesterday, and I will do the same tomorrow.

Why don't I die, and why can't I stop?

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The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a lock on the door...

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When I was 9, the birds stopped still in the sky and I saw the men that move between moments. They sang silently as they prepared the lake where my little sister was about to drown.

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There's nothing like the laughter of a baby. Unless it's 1 a.m. and you're home alone.

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Because my mom was moving houses, she made me come over and go through all my childhood stuff. When I got home, the Raggedy Ann I’d bagged up to be tossed was sitting upright on my bed, smelling of smoke, with her hair half burnt and a charred smile that looked like it meant me no good.

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That licking of your toes — usually it’s softer, warmer. You see the dog, standing in the other room, staring at you, silent.

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For months I’ve followed you everywhere — running to catch the bus, dancing with your husband on your birthday, bending (unseen, you thought) to steal a neighbor’s flower. But I let you see me only now, my face behind you in the bathroom mirror in the middle of the night, because we’re so close to being together forever.

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 He sat alone in the dark, afraid. Someone put matches in his hand.

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 The wind whipsered audibly through the willows, their leaves brishing against my skin like a child's playful fingers. I was at peace; until the wind stopped and the whispers didn't. 

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I love seeing the kid's faces while they dream in their beds. I only wish their parents were heavier sleepers.

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 She came back to bed and told me the baby was just sleeping. She was covered in dirt.

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 I'm watching my daughter through the window. I wonder how much longer I need to keep the oven on.

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I was alone in my hosue when I was awoken by a noise and reached for my flashlight. It was handed to me.

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 I'm not afraid of the cemetery. It's the only place the ghosts don't follow me.

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I enter the empty elevator and push the button for my floor. As the doors close I feel a hand cover my mouth.

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It's hard fighting the urge to hurt myself. My only comfort is knowing that I can hurt the girl in the trunk instead.

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When we bought the house I assumed the scratches on the inside of the basement door were from a dog, but the neighbors say the previous owner didn't have one. This morning the scratches had multiplied.

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She felt the heat as the flames engulfed the only house she'd ever known. When the screams subsided she smiled, knowing she was finally alone.