It was a chilly night in the forests if Puerto Rico. It was also a full moon. The moist and damp atmosphere of the forest was refreshing to certain men.
Madelyne was setting up camp in the forest of Nicaragua. The fire she had created was weak, only giving out short-fused embers. The sky reinforced the gloomy atmosphere powerfully. Alone in the woods, Madelyne was incredibly vulnerable.
It was near half past ten when she heard the growl. It was a strong, fearless, and distinct growl. It bore a strong sense of superiority over the predators among the forest. Out of shock, Madelyne briskly pulled out the hunting knife she had kept inside the tent. She grabbed a spare piece of firewood and lit the end with the fire - if you could still even call it a fire.
It was some time before she heard the same distinct growl again. She heard it from behind her, so in an instant she turned. Her heart was beating with anxiety.
As a child, Madelyn was often bullied. This experience gave her a thick skin for emotions. This was why even when she was anxious, she stood strong and looked confident.
She heard leaves rustling from behind her. Whatever the creature was, it must have been larger than her. By now, she was covered with sweat.
The rustling noise came closer and closer. Her heartbeat felt like it had exponentially grew.
A figure emerged amongst the canopy of leaves and bushes. It stood ten feet tall, bearing large, dark, menacing eyes and protruding sharp spines across the back. The reptile had an arched back and trotted on it’s hind legs. The creature roared the same roar, this time with more power.
The great creature had paralysed Madelyne. She looked all around but there was no where to hide. She had to run.
She threw the flaming piece of firewood and hurled the hunting knife towards the monster, and sprinted opposite it.
She arrived back at home, smothered with vicissitudes of a day’s terrors. When she cane back the next day, her tent was thrashed and the hunting knife was no where to be seen.
This creature, which was soon to be known as El Chupacabra, lives on among the tales and legends of strange and mythical creatures.
#3764
I’m Clarke. I’m a ghost. I have been for the past 12 years, after my untimely death from a car accident.
At first, it was terrifying. I couldn’t interact with anything, nor could anything interact with me. I scream and no one hears. I cry and no one notices. I’m nothing. Nothing.
After the initial shock, I didn’t know what to do. No ghost has ever communicated with the living, thus, I don’t know how much longer I have as a ghost.
I see no other ghosts. I only see tangible lives all around me.
I’m bored again. I have been bored everyday for the past 12 years. I can’t sleep. Ghosts can’t sleep. There is nothing to entertain a ghost. Why? Because I’ve seen everything. I have everything. I’ve seen the best shows and greatest movies. I live in a grand abandoned mansion alone. Without pain, life feels like a stroll in the park.
There is nothing to entertain a ghost.
Let me rephrase.
There is nothing that doesn’t hurt other people to entertain a ghost.
There is only one occurence of me hurting the living. I was one and a half years into being a ghost. I decided to haunt.
I’d stay at the home of any family and send wind currents inside, opening and closing on doors. I’d cast malformed silhouettes of strange figures to be recored by their cameras. I always loved their reactions.
Now, when I look back on those times, I feel an ache in my non-existent heart for having scared innocent people. I feel ashamed and deserving if punishment.
It’s night time again. I will roam the parks again, like I have done so every day for the past 10 years. I’ll check on my family again. They were eating chicken last night. How lovely.
This marks the end of today’s entry. This has just been a recap of what has happened to me for the past 12 years. This journal is the only thing keeping me sane.
