My family and I were driving on the highway in Nashville going home after a two week trip out west. As we drive past this creepy old building, I look into one of the glassless windows and spot a pair of eerie looking red eyes. All of a sudden everything goes dark and I realize my eyes were closed. I open them and see a little spot of light at the end of a dark hallway. I start walking at a brisk pace then slowly increase in speed. I am about a yard away from the door when I feel a sharp pain. I have run into some kind of invisible wall. I try pushing on the barrier to see if it will be removed. It doesn't budge. I turned around to see if there are any other places I could exit the building. There is nothing. Then I had the scariest moment of my life. A black rope came from the ceiling and tied around my left wrist and then followed with my other wrist and feet. A shadowy figure loomed in the darkness in front of me. A set of red eyes were set on the face.
My parents and I arrive in Albany, Vermont after a long boring drive. We get to my grandparents house and start to unload our bags. But as I step out of the car it’s like a huge dark cloud has settled over me. I turn to the right, towards the neighbors, and see this large estate with an ancient house. It gives me the chills. I don’t know if it’s the black chipping paint, the ramshackled boarded up windows, or the holes in the roof. “Cora. Cora!” I must have spaced out because my mom has been yelling to get my attention. I mumble something in return and bring my bags into the house. I love my grandparents, but I’d rather be spending my Christmas in Morocco with Jess, than be stuck here with a bunch of old people. The house even smells like old people. I pick out my room upstairs and sit around for a couple hours until I hear that dinner’s ready.
My feet were snatched out from under me and I went down. The twisting roots of the ancient oak trees had wrapped themselves around my tired legs, sending me straight to the wet ground. Mud covered the front of my body from head to toe, leaving me with the smell of earth seemingly imbedded into my natural scent. Laughter chimed behind me and I couldn’t hold mine back either. I sat on my hands and knees, practically gasping for air from laughing so hard, while mud slowly slid down my body and back into the cold earth. From behind me soft, twinkling lights dancing around me, echoing back their own laughter. My wheezing breaths and their wind chime esc sounds melded together to form an ancient song. A song that many claim to be long forgotten, but is actually always surrounding us in various forms. From the youthful voices of children, to the giggles of mischievous fairies.
Careful What You Look for Behind the Screen Something just didn't feel right about this carnival that just randomly showed up on Saturday. It wasn't unusual in the town of Santa Clara. Normally it was something that tried to get big but failed to succeed. Something in my gut was telling me that this wasn't some come and go type of carnival. This had to of been something worse. Santa Clara got a little bigger when Netflix decided to make a show called Santa Clarita Diet. Since then, we’ve had a bunch of things come in and leave.
The house on Johnson Street, its been here my whole life, sitting and watching my every move, like a lion stalks its prey, who knows what is behind those rotten boarded up windows. The house burned down in like the 70s or something, nobody knows what caused the fire or what happened to the Johnson family. The dilapidated house taunts me from my peripheral vision, daring me to expose its secrets. The house is rather large consisting of three above ground floors and most likely a basement. Every single window boarded up with wood that is now black from rot and decay that matches the burnt black wood of the rest of the house. The dead yellow grass in the decently sized front lawn is up to my hips and riddled with weeds and trash. The house is slanted to my right as if it’s depending on half the foundation, the house has no color and is just shades of gray and black. I feel like I have no option and that my life depends on me entering the house and I do.
That one scary house or building that creeps everybody out. The one that people tell stories about by the campfire. There's one in every neighborhood. For me that building is an old abandoned church. Every day at dusk the windows glow red, due to the lights inside the building. The church is made up of rough, white marble. There are gargoyles perched on the top of the church roof, some shattered around the ground, and some perched up inside the church. It’s a place where no one feels safe or welcome.
So naturally, it was a place I had to explore!.
I once went inside that abandon church. I had to stand on a railing and climb up it to get in. Once I did that I had to drop down a hole in the roof. Every time you dropped down a big cloud of dust would rise into the air.There is always a voice of an old man coughing. Me and my friends always thought is was the devil.
I was walking to school in the morning on an extremely hot day. The kind of day where hands stick to the table and backs stick to chairs. The kind of day where you’d rather be inside with an air conditioner blowing on your face.
There's this one house, on my way to school, that always gives me the chills. So today I tried to walk by the house without her seeing. I crossed the street to the other side where I was able to duck behind some bushes and slowly crept along. As I was fumbling through the bushes I had an image of her in my mind from the last time she saw me. She gave me this look like she wanted to kill me or something.
Chills, my weakness - acrostic
Caressing your hair
Head on my lap
I have no interest in love anymore
Love is useless
Love should not exist
My child, Chills is lovely
Young, strong, and brave
What is so sad
Everyday I think of her
All the memories I've made with her
Knowing that I ruined my life by letting her go
Never shall I do that again with another child
Every time I think of her she's playing with her cloth dolls
Sometimes I think of death
Sometimes I'm happy that I let her go, forever...
I can’t remember the last time I felt safe traveling down Webster Avenue. There was just such an eerie, cold feeling when I would drive by. In most neighborhoods one sees children riding bikes, dogs being walked, and old ladies tending to their gardens. None of this ever happened on “Wacky Webster” as the locals call it. You’d never see anyone outside, which made it look abandoned. The only thing that signified that anyone still lived there was when the lights were turned on at night. I swear the people that live on Webster Avenue must be nocturnal or something. If you dare to drive by at night, almost every single light in the neighborhood is turned on. I made the mistake of doing exactly that one crisp October night. The wind was howling and so was my dog, riding shotgun in my Chevy Silverado. He knew he had to go to the vet, so he was trying to make me feel guilty. It didn’t work though.
When I woke up I did not need to go to school. When I got dressed, I went to the spa with my friends. I got my fake nails and the color of them is pink. After I got my nails done, I went to see my friends. After that, my friends and I went to go for lunch at the Applebees. After lunch, we went back to my friend’s house. We played on their four-wheelers. We went for adventures with the four-wheelers. When we got back from the four-wheeler adventure, I stayed at my friend’s house. Then we got to watch two movies. The movies’ names are “Haunted House” and “Scary Pumpkin.”
One day in a distant neighborhood just like YOURS there was a creepy old house that no one ever came in or out of this house EVER. But there was a tale that once a kid named Tiny Tim went up to the door and knocked, but also rang the doorbell once. But Tiny Tim heard someone coming to the door. It was too late. He had been taken because the door opened, and an arm reached out and grabbed him by the neck. Whoever it was took Tiny Tim and a few minutes later there was smoke coming out of the chimney. Most people say that Tiny Tim was cremated in a stove.
A few years have passed after that incident with Tiny Tim, but the wicked person who killed Tiny Tim had had a heart-attack. The woman who grabbed him died of heart disease from how much smoke got into her lungs because of her cremating so many children. But she had a son that was now 23 years old and he had claimed the house as his own.
Hello fellow reader my name is Lettuce and I’m Billy’s best friend, well at least his best friend for now. I am an imaginary friend and I have been since Billy was two years old. He is only six but he is growing up personally really fast. He stopped believing in other magical characters and I’m afraid I’m next. I know us Imaginary friends don’t live forever but they at least most of us live till their child is nine or ten and if there lucky even longer. I am quivering as I am writing this just in fear of fading away to quickly. I am trying to do anything for Billy to notice me but I feel like he doesn't even remember me. Each day Billy forgets one thing about me or something we did together and it's making me weak. I’m just waiting for the day I fade away completely. I can’t take this any longer waiting day after day to be noticed or just fade away. I no longer want to feel this pain and I wish I could have just one last time with Billy.
Once upon a time, there was a village. Now, listen very carefully, because this village was the most magical and mysterious place on earth. A very long time ago, a seemingly ordinary boy was born, and his name was Damian. Throughout his childhood, he acted just like any ordinary child acts. He never refused candy or pizza, he liked to run around and play pretend with his friends, and he didn’t have the sharpest grammar in the shed. But as Damian grew and became older, and grew out of his childhood, people started to notice that Damian wasn’t being himself anymore. One night, his parents fears were confirmed when his mom peered into his room and saw him working his magic, and she was dumbstruck by what she saw. His parents became fearful of him, and decided to send him to a village on an island for kids with special abilities that is run by adults who understand kids like him.
I walked down the long and curvy road. I knew that I should now be out this late but I stayed anyway to look at the beautiful view of the trees. There was never enough time to look at the red, yellow, and orange leaves. It was like they were there one day and then the next they were gone. I pushed the memory of today out of my mind and focused on getting home before it got much later. There was only one house on the road and it was abandoned or so everyone thought. Last year a couple of kids from older grade decided to see what was inside the house and they never came back. Since then no one has ever been back on this road. I only went on it because of all of the roads in town it had the best view. I looked up ahead and saw that the house was only a few feet away. I decided to walk past it fairly quickly, still afraid of what had happened to the other kids that had broken in. I was only a few feet from the door when it suddenly swung open almost smacking me in the face.
Avery’s fingers tug at the black laces of his shoes, movements mildly trembling from the substantial caffeine intake of the morning. He knows today should probably be spent in front of a computer screen, pumping out an eloquent report on sea life. But who has time for mollusks when endless miles of barren streets lay aching to be explored? Well worn earbuds drown out scholarly worries in an artfully crafted playlist, made for the skip in your step when the day demands to be a grand one.
Avery scuffs his shoes on the clean, white door frame and steps into the world. His hair immediately pushed from his forehead as a great gust of wind whips past. He smiles into it and blinks up at the bright gray sky. He couldn’t have wished for anything better.
He turns out of the drive at a jaunty pace, sparks of joy flying from his fingertips, almost dancing through the streets. Thoughts of mollusks or any other creature of the deep far from his mind.
Every day I would look at that house, walk by it and think not too much about it. Years go by. Until one day I decide to take a closer look at it. October 30 is today and Halloween is tomorrow, and I thought it might be a good idea to take a closer look. I open up the black chalky gate, it creeks open when I push it. The house, a mustard yellow, old silk curtains that are almost brown in the windows. I decide to go back to my day, go back tomorrow night with my friend Max just in time for Halloween.
The next day, I lie in my bed thinking about what's going to happen.
I was walking to my new school and I saw a house. This house stood out a lot to me even though it looked the same as all the others. There was something about that house that gave me the chills. I was thinking that it was probably because Halloween was coming up in about a month. I made some friends on my first day who lived near me so we could walk home together. As we passed that house, I asked them about it and they said that it belongs to a man who never came out of the house. They said that I was brave for walking on the same side of the street as that house. It turns out that, that house freaks everybody out. When I got home, my parents asked me all about what had happened. So I told them. I told them about my friends and how my day was and even about the house. It seemed that from the way I described it, they were scared to. I agreed with them after they said I should probably not walk on the same side of the street as the house.