horror
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It was just another family tradition. Although, one may say, a bit unusual. Repeated year after year, for as long back as anyone can remember, our family has always fed Aunt Martha. At least that is what we called her. She wasn’t really an Aunt at all – in fact she wasn’t even human. Aunt
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Why do ghost stories still scare me? I know they aren’t real. Still, I psych myself out at the most random moments. For instance, I’ll simply be washing my hands in the bathroom. Then from the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw the shower curtain move. I stare at it hard,
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She wanders through the halls of her abandoned family home, most of it resembling remains of the catacombs. Except for the portraits, as they still hang. Sneaking secret glances, she feels the first pang. They glare as though they know what she’s done. Of course they do! They had known before it begun. Steadying her
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I was falling asleep when the faint outline of a door appeared on my ceiling. I was thinking of what I had to do the next day, when I started to notice it. The outline was blurry though. I was falling asleep- maybe it wasn’t actually there. No, there was definitely a door on my
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This story is not about being a hero, but it’s the truth. A couple years ago, I tried catching up with “The Walking Dead”. I was just finishing up season 3 when I decided to spend the weekend at my Dad’s. His little secluded house is in a town called Beach Park where, despite its
Simply Kayla 