Submitted by Shadow Queen
Your protagonist finds the diary of a little girl in the basement of their new house. She wrote of strange things, her drawings splattered in blood...
The new house was great, until we found the diary in the basement. The previous owner’s daughter wrote about monsters, leeching parasites that clung to her while she slept and when she bathed. It seemed there was no escaping them for her. She drew odd shapes, unrecognizable to us, splattered in red spots that I hoped weren’t blood. I tried to avoid touching them as I turned the pages and read her ...
Whistling the tune stuck in my mind, I jauntily sway down the stairs, ignoring the ginormous spiderwebs which are dangling along the walls.
After months of sleeping under bridges and in public buildings, I can finally enjoy living in a home all for myself. How I was that lucky? An old man used to talk to me as his source of happiness (not to be conceited, but my jokes made him laugh!!), and for s...
I stepped onto the old wooden steps outside my newly purchases house. Despite it being newly purchase, it was far from new. A multitude of renovations were in need for the poor, rundown tragedy. Good thing I love a challenge. My fiancé jogged up to me dragging our luggage behind him. He put a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turned slightly and smiled at him.
“Everything alright darling?” He smirked...
I enter the basement of the house. It's old and extremely dusty, like every other part of this house. I wasn't expecting to find something like this in the middle of the woods. Slowly, I descend the staircase, every step creaks under my feet. I look to see if theres anything worth something, maybe some old jewelry i could sell... when i take a step forward i feel something hard under my feet. A da...
The handwriting is scrawled and over large. “Minnerva’s Private Thoughts — No Trespassers. That Includes You, Uninvited Reader. Beware of Dogs.” The next page is stuck to the first with something that leaves your fingers sticky. The corner is stubborn and rips. A photo of your house but many years ago. A woman sits in a chair on the lawn, looking away from the camera. You realise her chair is act...
The voices are louder now.
In they echo, closer they are.
They scream, laugh at me.
No, they’re no longer far.
Fun and games, laugh and play.
Watch them chant and sing.
Closer they get… the more I pay.
The more I fear I’ll slip…
Blood drips from my pages-
Running from my nose.
It’s been like this for ages.
More out of my eyes, I scream.
I claw at my face in pain-
I wish there was some way
I don’t know how it started. All I know that I’m dead.
Not physically but I’m heading to a grave of if I go back up those stairs.
It all started when I went to the basement of our new house.
I saw a window. In the basement.
And me, being the cat that got killed by curiosity, opened it.
And a leather bound book fell on the floor. I reached down to pick it up, you know, because that’s what you d...
The cellar was damp and dark. I tried to push aside my childish fears, but my intuition told me that this musty, putrid smell was evil. My eyes frantically searched the cavernous space for something that would guide me back to civilisation and warmth, and that’s when I saw it.
Sitting neatly on it’s on own on the floor, like a discarded sweet wrapper that had been carelessly c...
Her ears were ringing from the pain; the pain that flared in her side, then the face. The boot fell over and over again, drawing blood, and breaking a couple of bones. All her escape plans were spilled by the quick, precise, and deadly movements he placed. His hand reached for the door above her, and she realized how badly she had messed up.
“Father, please I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“
The door c...
The diary is old and worn, once bound by fine leather but is now pockmarked with holes where mice and time had taken its toll.
It’s the first thing you see the minute you flick on the basement lights. The diary is there, lying face-down on the floor. It’s odd, you think. Odd, because everything else in the basement—the old furniture, boxes of unwanted clothes, old collectibles—all of it is cover...
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