12 Days until Halloween
Happy Friday ya'll! I have got to send a bit shout out to all that read my story yesterday. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for your positive replies. I am so humbled. I have to be honest - the more I write these spooky tales, the more jumpy I get. You should see me when the house phone rings. TO FUNNY! I guess I should turn some lights on and turn the spooky music off when I write. Plus I am sure the glow of the computer screen in the dark doesn't help. The story I am working on for next week is what really has me spooked. With the full moon in just a few days and Halloween around the corner it has me thinking that maybe I should wear my garlic and a few rounds of silver bullets - course the silver bullets won't help because I don't own a gun. Smile.
Well tonight is the
opening night to our Halloween Happening Haunted Barn and Hay Ride. I know that
I should be getting my costume ready, and I have motherly things to get done as
well today, but for some reason I felt that I must get today’s blog out early.
So I have chosen another one of those stories that you the reader must
figure out - did it really happen or is it a work of fiction. It will be a short story, but still just as spooky. Have a wonderful start to your weekend and I'll blog you later.
"The Floater"
By Stacey L. Bolin
Music to accompany the story.
The full moon had cast a pale light bestowing
life to the shadows of the trees and the tall grasses in the field that
surround the little shingled single story house that sat upon the hill. Everyone is fast asleep while the night wind
dances with the fallen leaves on the ground and blows them past her partially
open window. The smell of the autumn air is a comfort to her as she sleeps and
she dreams and how she can dream, oh to live in the world of all those
wonderful things in an eight year old mind. The sound of the swooshing leaves
brings her from a blissful sleep to the darkness of the night world that she is
afraid off. The room feels deathly cold and her attention becomes drawn to the
desk at the foot of her bed. A blurry glow is looking for something. Her throat
becomes tight with fear. She tries to yell out to her mother, but her words are
frozen inside her. Her eyes grow wide as the blur opens the top drawer to her
desk. The blurry glow begins to take form that makes her believe it is her mother
- she is no longer afraid.
"Mom why are you in my desk?" Her
innocent voice asks.
The image of a woman with piercing eyes - not
her mother - rises up at the foot of her bed, glowing brighter and larger and
becomes very angry.
She doesn't want to look at it anymore. She puts
her pillow over her head and quickly yanks the covers over her entire
body. She shakes with an icy
panic-stricken chill rushing throughout her body; she is frightened by what she
has seen. An forceful adrenaline wants her body to dart out of the room screaming
for help - but her body will not listen to her mind as she lays entombed with
fear. She detests the feeling of the covers over her head - she is claustrophobic,
but she fears the glow more. She lay motionless for the rest of the night.
The next morning she cautiously approaches
the desk - the drawer is open. She goes out into the kitchen to ask her mother
why was she going through her desk late last night, to which her mother’s reply’s -
"I wasn't."
She is bound with the chilling fear once more.
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