@@font-size:2.5em;Pulling the pillow off of my head, I look around and spot my phone. What would I even say anyway? I wanted desperately to call Jayson, [[but how could I call him when my fingers were coated in my own sticky blood?]]@@

I’ve always [[loved|when i was younger]] cemeteries.

She extends her [[hand]] to you.

She always wore a @@font-size:2em;beautiful silk red ribbon@@, tied tightly against her neck in the style of @@font-size:1.5em;Victorian-era chokers@@.\n\n<<timedgoto "Victorian" 5s>>\n\n

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Still, I didn’t think anything of it for a long while. I got really into ear cuffs, and wore one every day. Maybe the @@font-size:1.5em;red ribbon@@ was just my aunt’s thing, ya know?\n \nBut the more time we spent together, the more it grated on my mind, like it was mocking me. She even had it on as soon as she was out of the shower. It stayed on when we spent nights with glasses of wine or bottles of beer in the hot tub. Just a [[@@font-size:1.5em;thick red ribbon@@, like a gaping mouth on her neck.|neck]]

Despite tomorrow's major science test, you're here at the party knocking back your third whiskey and laughing with Richard. Richard invited you to this celebration of his football team's big win. How could you say no? Richard is always a good time and he's easy on the eyes. You're quite proud of your clever plan to have it both ways -- attend the party and be prepared for the science test.\n\n[[Back to your room]]

//Because once I was whole, and then I was made half, and I knew that I would never be whole again.//\n\nThe raven pauses and considers the piece of you in its mouth. Then it continues to eat.\n\n"Then I don't suppose you'll mind if I [[dine]]."

A group of young women, standing close together and chattering, pass before you. One of them looks up, sees you, pulls a loathesome face, makes a sound. The rest look up and parrot the first girl.\n\n"Okay, that is seriously sick," says the first girl.\n\n"It's so [[ugly]]," says a second.

Only they never did; months passed without a trace of the Figure. That'd be fine if the Cadillac's glory days hadn't went with them. Any time Big Charles & crew put on an exhibition for customers, something would go [[wrong]]. \n\nAs you can imagine, word spread about these mishaps. People'd been gossiping for years that Charles was getting old. If he couldn't maintain his prized vehicle, who knows how the other cars worked? His markups were ridiculous as is! Who wants to deal with the '[[hard sell]]' nonsense these days?

Once they were there with the small fire going though, when the beer was cold, and the weed had come out, Alex was a lot more relaxed, talking about her aunt's shop and getting a bit closer to Justin-he could not stop staring at her, with that beautiful long dark hair, full brown eyes, and one of the best smiles he had ever seen. She was the type of girl he had dreamed about being with again while he lied in his bunk in the prison, never fully asleep due to the fear. The few moments of sleep he would get were dominated by dark dreams - nightmares didn't feel like the right word for them, too cliché for how terrifying these dreams were. Were these dreams his unconscious punishing him - [[or was something else trying to punish him?]]

My breathing becomes shallow and rapid as shovel-full after shovel-full of dirt falls over me, faster now, sounding slightly more muffled as the mound grows higher. <<timedgoto "i claw" 6.5s>>

We got along great, and quickly became close friends. Shared secrets, confessed deep-seated anxieties about our futures, and fretted over calorie counts and the lead level in canned tuna. She gave me her old shoes that were from the 80s and were now vintage-cool, and I lent her books after books I accumulated from my Master’s in Canadian literature.\n \n<<timedreplace 10s>> <<becomes>>There was one thing [[I didn’t know about my aunt, though.|one thing]]<<endtimedreplace>>

"Do I look beautiful?" I heard her say. She was close now, inches away. I could smell her breath through that mask and it made me choke.\n\nFor the first time that night I understood her.\n\n"Do I look beautiful?" she repeated. \n\nI could almost imagine the rest: "Is there a point, really? Is there a point of any of this? Do you even love me?"\n\nI can't remember. It's been a while.\n\nAlthough there are things I do remember: like the children going in before sundown and the strings of abductions that seemed to be plaguing the area. I remember those things now. Not sure if it's important.\n\n"Am. I. Beautiful?" Her voice was getting louder, harsher, more grating. \n\nWhat was the right thing to say here?\n\n[[Yes you are beautiful and I love you|Beautiful]].\n[[You're disgusting|Disgusting]].\n[[I don't know *say nothing*|Third option]].

There was a moment when I thought about what I did, what lay underneath that mask. There was something growing deep inside me somewhere that felt almost terrible for what I did to that poor, lonely girl. I'll admit that I was selfish in that regard, wanting to fuck her so hard that she smiled. \n\n"Am I beautiful?" she repeated, removing her mask to reveal the slits near the edges of her mouth. I had tried to bring back her smile, the one I missed from all those years ago. Her mouth opened wider than I had ever seen it, her black gums melting out from the jagged holes on her cheeks. Her smile, it was there, hidden the optical illusion that was her face. \n\nHer dark brown eyes seemed to glow white, her shadowy body illuminated by the street lights. She would look ethereal if she also wasn't rotting. \n\n"I don't know."\n\nThat was the truth. I had no idea. There she was, standing in front of me for the final time, and I had no idea if she was as beautiful as I remembered. Maybe she was. Maybe she was always beautiful but I fucked her up too badly. \n\nDidn't seem fair to give her the truth in this situation. To be honest, there wasn't much I could say here because she was here despite... everything. \n\n"Am I beautiful?"\n\n"I don't know."\n\nShe pulled back from me. There was no more damage I could do to her, I thought. Maybe I'd already done the worst I could possibly do.\n\nShe went away, and I never saw her again, even though I ached to see her smile still -- still, knowing that her smile was now a scar, a permanent sign that I was more of a monster than I ever thought I could be. Every night, I laid awake waiting for her. She never showed back up.\n\nSlowly the kids started coming out after dark, as if they knew what I had done for them and their extended playtime. Every day I walked home from work, I stopped by that bench and sat down, hoping that she would show up with that outstretched, shaking hand. Maybe one day she will. \n\n[[I deserve that much.|another ghost story]]

The reprieve from the world is beautiful.\n\n<<timedgoto "blank 2" 5s>>

She groaned slightly and her hands went to her head as if she were in pain. “This is why my aunt told me not to drink until I was old enough…” \n\nFear shot over Justin's face as he reached for his boxers. \n“Wait, what do you mean?”\n\n“Didn't you hear me earlier,” Alex said in an almost valley girl accent. “I told you I turn seventeen next week.” She paused. “Oh shit… and you got me drunk so I would have sex with you…. That was not cool.”\n\n“What?” Justin shot up and looked horrified. “[[Wait, wait, Alex…]]” \n

Alex fell backwards and the back of her head struck the old log with a sickening thud. She yelped and then wheezed as her naked body fell limply. There was blood pooling up on the old wood, barely visible in the darkness, even with the bright moon. [[Justin froze in place, having to process what had happened.]]

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Am I the reason I feel poisoned? Of course. Of course. I'm always the reason. [[Always to blame.]]

<<timedreplace 0.5s>><<becomes>>@@font-size: 2em; Drip.@@<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 1.5s>><<becomes>>@@font-size: 4em;Drip.@@<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 2.5s>><<becomes>>@@font-size: 6em;[[Drip.|Drip3]]@@<<endtimedreplace>>

But you get yourself out. Without turning into a ghost.\n\n<<timedreplace 1.5s>><<becomes>>[[Mostly.|another ghost story]]<<endtimedreplace>>

My room is filled with happy things. The walls are a sunny yellow and covered with images of dolphins. I feel at peace for a few moments while I look at them and their smiling, joyful expressions.\n\nThen I hear the front door [[slam]].\n

“Hey fatty! Watch where you're going. Are you talking to Ching Chang Chong because you're craving some Chinese food?” [[they teased]].

All I could feel was longing. Longing for what? I didn't know. All I knew was that I needed to her have now. In every way possible. I needed to make her mine. [[Completely and utterly mine]].

It made me feel [[safe]].

@@font-size:2.5em;Nobody saw the scars at my stomach, self-inflicted when Harry delivered the final blow to my sanity.@@ @@font-size:1em;The term gaslighting comes from the 1944 film Gaslight. Constantly lower and flicker the lights, make the woman feel she can't trust her mind. Gaslighting, a toxicity you don't even know is happening until it's already too late. Like breathing in carbon monoxide, you don't even know [[you're poisoned until too late.]]@@

Justin's right eye was twitching by this point and she was not giving him a chance to catch her gaze. It was all too overwhelming. He started hearing the sounds that had come to scare him, things moving in the cell when he was trying to sleep, light tapping against the bars, and someone licking their lips. Justin was trying to get hold of himself, but the situation was serious. [[He grabbed at her harder than he meant to]], and when he did, she tripped.

In Justin's mind it was like something out of a bad movie. The dead girl had just risen and spoken to him; then she was gone, then there again, her figure following him. He could hear her in the woods, coming after him. How was she keeping up, why could he not see her? There was a brief moment where he wondered if it was all real, or just his mind continuing his torture, even now, out of prison. The visions were supposed to bother him less now, but he could hear her coming - [[so either they had gotten worse, or the dead girl really was coming after him]].

//No food. No water. [[I have no idea what the end of this plan entails.|proceed2]]//

@@font-size:1.5em;I stared at the lamppost, the soft orange glow muffled by the leaves on the tree.@@ \n\n@@font-size:2em;The leaves swayed, gently obscuring the [[light from the lamppost]].@@\n

//Standing up, I felt my way around. Eight steps out I hadn't hit or touched anything. Twelve steps out still nothing. At fifteen I touched cold. Dry, cold, rough. Cinder blocks maybe? Brick. I've never been good at telling the difference. Its all like rock isn't it? Made of rocks. Cement. Rock. It doesn't matter right now anyway. I found a wall. I think. I feel a few steps to my right. And a few steps to my left from point of contact. It's a wall. A slap it, knock on it, solid or at least there is a lot behind it.\n\nKeep searching? [[Yes|Yes2]]/[[No|No2]]//\n

//Soon I will be hungry.\n\nOn the other side of the I found the corner of the room and a shelf. On that shelf was you. My notebook. My companion. It was at least a week before I found anything to write with. An old golf pencil. I chewed it until I tasted the lead. I write in short bursts, when the light visits I put what I can down. It takes forever to write three sentences but I have the time and its important. \n\nWhen I am found, I want to be able to say, I don't know why I was put here, but I made it. here is my proof. THIS. These pages are my proof.//\n\n@@font-size:2em;[[(There are quite a few pages missing at this point. Like they were ripped right out down to the binding glue.)]]@@\n

//I'm still scared. I've slept three or four times. It feels like I've been here a long time but I've read that being isolated can fuck your perceptions of time. Its why prisoner advocacy groups consider it inhumane as a form of punishment. It's vicious mental torture.\n\n\nAfter sleeping a few more time I decided it was time to explore a bit more. I went carefully to the shelf again and kept going. \n\nI used the light that peeked in (under what I've been assuming was a door. It has no edges or anything.) to gauge my relative distance. Every so often I will find myself crying. Scraps of light aren't enough to keep me from scattering my thoughts into the wind. I miss the breeze. I haven't heard a sound since I got here. No scratching, no rumbling, no voices, nothing. The only noises I get come from me. I am my company. Well except you.\n\nExplore the room again? [[Yes|Yes4]]/[[No|No4]]//\n

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She wraps her long hands around your neck and squeezes. You can see her eyes through the mask. They're gorgeous. Like wet gems.\n\n[[They discover you in the stall with a face of blue.|another ghost story]]

The woman sobs once, then composes herself and stands straight. The man she is with looks equally distressed. Her face is contorted in disgust. His is a close mirror.\n\n"Jesus god in [[heaven]]," she mutters.

Thump.\n\n<<timedreplace 1.5s>><<becomes>>...@@font-size:3em;Thump@@<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 2.5s>><<becomes>>@@font-size:5em;[[Thump]]@@<<endtimedreplace>>\n

It felt like the trees were closing in on him, a suffocating mixture of darkness and rustling leaves. It was rustling leaves, right? [[Not low whispers.]]

“You haven’t asked her about it, have you?”\n“No, of course not. You told me to respect her choices and privacy, so I have. I’m just curious, is all. When did she start wearing it?”\n \nThere is a long moment of silence.\n\n<<timedgoto "come home" 7s>>\n\n

The heels [[stop]] in front of your stall.

That was why he slowly took her hair in his hands and grabbed on to the sides of her skull, proceeding to lift it up and then slam it back down onto the fallen tree. [[The sound was like a deep drum]], as dry bark broke and flew off with the impact.

Above the desk, pinned to the wall by a dagger through the eye socket is Beth's head!\n\nAs the man's knife arcs down toward your throat, you glance across the room to Beth's bed where you can see her headless corpse.\n\n[[The End|another ghost story]]

The next morning, the rash on my arm had gotten worse. [[It seemed to have spread]].

[[I am a doll.]]

@@font-size:5em;[[Maybe tomorrow night the face would be another few inches farther back from my window.|another ghost story]]@@

The raven peels a strip of flesh away from you and tugs it free. It sets the skin on your shoulder and begins slivering it with its beak. As it eats, the raven [[whispers]] to you.\n\n"Why did you do it?"\n\n[[Grief]]\n[[Loneliness]]\n[[Bitterness]]

His story claims that Charles looked the Figure in the face that afternoon. Their glove crept toward the wide-brimmed hat. A tug and [[reveal]].

He was out now though, here in that moment he had thought so often about during his time in prison. Now, he was out and there weren't any more terrifying dreams of things stalking him just beyond the corner of his eye. Justin liked to think he was a master with the ladies, but even he was surprised at how well his lines were working. \n\n[[“I bet all the other girls are jealous of you.”]]\n

You slide your hand across the desk to a spot where you expect to find the lamp. \n\nIt's not there. \n\nYou sweep your hand across the desk in search of the lamp but your hand encounters only strewn papers and books. How odd. It's not Beth's habit to leave a messy desk. It's a small detail that you dismiss for now. Your main preoccupation is [[what to do next]] now that you can't locate the lamp.\n\n

//Just choose to be happy//. <<timedgoto "blank 18" 4s>>

Big Charles passed through the entrance and set out for Lot #3. The Cadillac rolled over unmarked graves, uprooted weeds, & spooked a few cats. There were no buildings-not even a shack on the property. \n\nBut there was [[a single headstone|Lot #3]] in the center of Lot #3.

There’s just...<br> <<timedinsert 2s>>silence.<<endtimedinsert>>\n\n<<timedgoto "blank 3" 5s>>

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Justin shook his head, but then quickly nodded. He was scared and unsure of the exact answer the woman wanted, fighting not to scream. \n\n[[“Here I was just looking to have some fun tonight and you had to go and do that. And what were you going to do, bury me out there and hope no one noticed I was gone?”]]\n

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@@font-size:3em;She reached to her side and pulled out [[a thorn from her ribcage]]. Then slowly, she took that@@ @@font-size:3.5em;thorn and started pricking my body.@@

Out stepped the Figure, coat and brim as ashen as their chariot. The Figure seemed to [[glower]] at the Cadillac for an eternity. \n\nThen the [[ritual]] began.

@@font-size:2.5em;My Rose. My Rose. My Rose. My Rose.@@ @@font-size:4em;[[My Rose]].@@ @@font-size:2.5em;She was mine, and she would always be just mine.@@

by Kitty Horrorshow

Then all of a sudden I felt a piercing pain in my lips. She bit me. She bit me on my lips in an effort to struggle to get free. I liked that. I liked seeing her struggle and fight for her freedom. [[Just like thorns on roses]], my Rose had a side of her that I've never seen before. She had defiance, rebelliousness, and resiliency.

//Feel my way around. Whoever put me down here did it for a reason. Maybe to hurt me. Maybe to punish me. I haven't done anything to anyone to justify this. Even if you stretched my sins as far as they would go, being thrown here isn't enough.\n\nTake a deep breath? [[Yes|Yes1]]/[[No|No1]]//\n

I must have fallen asleep, because it was hours later when I heard a short, quick scream, and then complete silence.\n\nShifting upwards in my bed, my heart was suddenly pounding.\n\n"Sally?" I shouted. [["Sally?!?"]]

//Just ring the bell and go back to living//. <<timedgoto "blank 15" 4s>>

I stand as still as I can. I swallow my breath, and my speeding heartbeat, and any emotions I might be feeling somewhere in the distant parts of me. I am a doll, and @@font-size:3em;doll eyes don't cry@@.\n\nThe bedroom door flies open.\n\n[[The End.|another ghost story]]

//I'm worthless, I'm worthless, I'm worthless, [[I'm -]]//

@@font-size:2.5em;There was a flutter, of what I initially thought were the leaves from the tree obscuring the lamppost. But the way they folded. They didn't move like leaves in the wind.@@\n\n@@font-size:2em;They folded and fluttered vertically, faster than the wind was shaking the leaves.@@\n\n@@font-size:3em;[[“No,”]] I said aloud.@@ @@font-size:4em;“This isn't real.”@@\n

Am I even [[human|human2000]], or just an @@font-color: red;imitation?@@

Justin sat with his legs tucked under him, attempting not to vomit below such a beautiful night sky, but the dead body was making that part hard. Alex looked so peaceful with her head resting on the log and her eyes still, staring up at the moon. This was supposed to be some quiet lovemaking in the woods on a summer's night-because what else was there to do in that part of Georgia on a Friday night [[just two weeks after being released from prison]]?

...two stacks of cash. Four. Six. Eight clips of wrinkled hundred-dollar bills, reeking of mildew. [[Without a word]], the Figure scribbled into a form and left for the exit as abruptly as they arrived.\n

Pinned to the wall by a dagger through the eye socket is Beth's head and beneath it, scrawled in blood is the message, "aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light".\n\nWithout thinking -- for by now your body is on autopilot, you tug back Beth's blanket to find her headless corpse.\n\n[[The End|another ghost story]]

I was instantly mesmerized by her. How could such a perfect creature possibly roam the hallways of our pathetic redneck school? We weren't worthy of her. I thought she was perfect. A [[perfect human being]], created by the hands of God.

Rose's parents went out of town and she had the house all to herself. She invited me over to her place and like the shy guy I am, I nervously accepted. As I gazed into Rose's eyes, I experienced something I've never experienced before. Something in me tingled. It felt as if someone has electrocuted me and every single cell in my body became alive. The cells in my body danced around uncontrollably. [[I couldn't wait.]]

Although it is now 6 months and a dozen parties into the university year, you still can't navigate this room without turning on the light. It's especially hard while you're under the influence of [[three beers and four whiskies]]. \n\nYou dare not turn on the light because you promised your roommate, Beth, you would not wake her. \n\nIn the dark you cannot see 'Beth the bookworm' but you can hear faint breathing coming from the general direction of her bed. The breaths are shallow and irregular -- not the deep steady breaths of a heavy sleeper. Beth is a very light sleeper and she will surely be upset if you disturb her. While you were out partying, she studied for tomorrow's big science test. You are depending on borrowing her study notes for a last minute cram. Without those notes you will fail the test. It's a failure you can't afford.\n\nThe alchohol makes your head spin so you place your hand on the desk to steady yourself. You remember there's a lamp on the desk. If you turn it on you will be able to see your bed but you might awaken Beth. \n\nIf you do not turn on the light, you will fumble in the dark and possibly make enough noise to awaken Beth anyway. You consider these options.\n\n[[Turn on the desk lamp|Turn on the desk lamp]].\n\n[[Do not turn on the desk lamp|Do not turn on the desk lamp]].\n

The clammy tiles don't end. Darkness in all directions. You crawl for a long time. For a mile. More than a mile. You are thirsty and warm.\n\n[[There is nothing.|another ghost story]]\n\n\n

I claw at my face,<<timedinsert 1s>> the walls, <<gains>>the lid, <<gains>>my stomach.<br><<endtimedinsert>> <<timedinsert 4.5s>>Blood is running everywhere and my are fingers scraped down to the bone.<br><br><<endtimedinsert>><<timedinsert 8s>>I know I’m still alive because it hurts [[//<big>so</big> much//|each thwump]].<<endtimedinsert>>

Shouldering itself up from the dark earth, beams and supports, tarps pulled taught, dark-eyed and slump-shouldered figures moving carts and stringing lights, spitting into the dust.\n\nA breeze courses through your legs. You turn lazily [[back and forth]].

Your arms disobey your command to raise. Your muscles are leaden and inert. Your fingers are still. You [[cannot move|silent]].

@@font-size:1.5em;I was on the second floor. There was no balcony outside my window. I couldn't breath, I felt turned to stone. Except for the pounding and pulsing of my blood throughout my veins from my [[beating heart]].@@

At that moment, I was suddenly snapped back to reality. I am Oliver, [[the fat olive that doesn't deserve to love or be loved]]. I walked away from Rose and headed towards the exit.

Ever since I was little, kids in the playground made fun of me. Tortured me. Teased me. Some enjoyed making my life a living hell. Others looked at me with pity in their eyes. I knew some of them wanted to stand up for me. But they were too afraid to. They were afraid that they would be the next targets for the [[bullies]].

'Ffffff -shhhh -' you stiffle a curse as you stub your bare toe on the study desk.\n\nMaybe it wasn't such a good idea to sneak into [[your dorm room in the dark|Your Room]].

The tree is [[creaking]].

<<display "stall">>

Customers did indeed file in, slack-jawed - but they'd all have to finance lesser cars. Oh, some would scale that ladder little-by-little, and trade up to fancier models...[[but no one could ever make it to the Cadillac]].

@@font-size:1.5em;I saw Rose. My beautiful Rose. She was standing over me, like an angel.@@ @@font-size:2.5em;[[She was the only one who ever understood me, my Rose]].@@

She steps back into the darkness. Step by step. Until she's [[gone]].

//They do not deserve your pity.//\n\n"Perhaps not," whispers the raven. "But they have more than earned it."\n\nThe raven continues to chew on the [[scrap of your flesh|continues to eat]].

As I opened my bedroom door, I heard the front door slam

They cruised down the back roads, where you could just see through the overgrown moss. Keith's sure that Cadillac's nav unit was faulty. Only thing out that far was a cemetery. Maybe the Figure was an undertaker? [[They love grim humor]].

That's funny, I thought. Last I checked, I didn't have a bedbug issue. What could it be? Was I bitten by mosquitoes during my sleep? Even if that were true, would it be possible that there were hundreds of mosquitoes? I pushed that thought to the back of my mind and I got dressed for school. I wore a long-sleeved shirt to cover up my arm and [[I slathered on Polysporin]].

I reached the bottom. I looked towards the sink, and slowly brought the beam of light up towards the [[wall]].

@@font-size:2em;Part of me wished it was a physical hurt, one I could put ice on and heal.@@ @@font-size:1.5em;One people understood. Well, no, people didn't even understand that, either. They saw a black eye, and averted their gaze, believed stories of falling down stairs or other such [[accidents.]]@@

My mother [[disapproved|she says]].

She always wanted children. We would pass by a toddler in a stroller and I would see that smile again. Her eyes would get a little teary and her hand would go to her stomach like she was already expecting. She would look up at me and tell me how much she wanted a child to call her own.\n\n"It'll look just like you," she would say. "It'll have those big brown eyes and a shiny, thick head of hair."\n\nShe always said she wanted nothing more than to brush a little boy or girl's hair in the morning and send them off to school. They'll come back later and she'll scrub off the dirt and grime from the playground and she'll tuck them into bed, patting their hair and giving their cheeks little pinches. \n\nThey'll look at her and say she was a beautiful mommy and then she'll say that they were beautiful babies. \n\nThen she'll look at me and [[I'd roll my eyes|Walk 2]].

@@font-size:2.5em;He had climbed into the box himself, to prove to me that it was safe. His friend, an owner of a magic shop, was the one to saw Harry in half.@@ \n@@font-size:2em;As I had stood there, in this dark magic shop after it had already closed, I saw Harry be pulled apart, his head and torso separated from his lower half, as he smiled at me and said [[“ta-da!”]]@@

That's right, a ritual. What else do you call circling a wagon, dragging fingertips 'cross the paint in a Carolina summer? A customer with //that// sorta fixation [[comes to buy]].

//Do you want\n\n[[red paper]]\n\nor\n\n[[blue paper]]\n\nor\n\n[[nothing|nothingporp]]//

Fuck. That’s not rain. <<timedgoto "what im" 4s>>

My parents bought a new house last month. It's at the edge of a subdivision in my hometown. The yards in these old lots are massive. There is enough space for a side yard. The last owners said they bred large dogs and kept them in the basement until they learned to behave. There are scrape marks all over the basement and has a faint sour scent. It's pretty fucked up they did this to dogs.\n\nI offer to help them by cleaning out the place before the contractors show up and gut the place. Under the stairs of the basement is a journal. I don't think much of it. I put it in my backpack (because I love reading peoples old diaries) and take it home. \n\n@@font-size:2em; font-decoration:underline; [[Here is the diary in its entirety:]]@@\n

I’ve always been a @@font-size: 2em; little afraid@@ of the [[dark]].

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During the morning class, Ms. Reynolds took attendance. Rose was absent. No one knew what had happened to Rose. No one knew, but me. And in a sickening way, the thought of killing her with my bare hands made me feel…powerful. I spent the rest of the school day walking down the halls with more confidence. [[I felt alive.]]

If you want to survive an encounter with a demon, you must do the following: @@font-size:1.5em;stay perfectly still@@. Demons hate humans, and they will try everything in their power to destroy the humanity within you. @@font-size:1.5em;So do not move.@@ @@font-size:2em;Do not speak.@@ @@font-size:2.5em;Don't even think.@@ \n\n<<timedreplace 7s>><<becomes>>Like a doll.<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 8s>><<becomes>>Lifeless.<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 9s>><<becomes>>If you don't stay still he will notice and before you even know what's happening his long, taloned fingers will seize you by the [[throat]].<<endtimedreplace>> \n

It’s one of those bright and sunny days that people love so much. But the sun feels hostile, and gravity is trying to pull the limbs from my torso. Sometimes simply just <small>existing</small> is exhausting.<br><br> The grave beside the bell is open, and there’s an [[empty|not sure]] coffin smiling at me invitingly. I have the overpowering desire to see, after all this time, what it’s actually like down there.<br><br> My shift is almost over, and [[I know I won’t be missed|blank 1]], so I slip down and close the lid over me.

Alex took in a sharp breath and flinched, eyes widening to look up at the moon. She had said something, but Justin could not make it out. \n\n“Oh god…” he finally understood her to say. \n\nThat was when it hit him. It could partially be blamed on the alcohol, more so on fear and guilt, but most importantly the desire to avoid the possible future that had been laid out for him. He was not just having the flashes now, but felt the other prisoner breathing down his neck like monsters in the night. It wasn't delusions or imaginary shadows he always caught glimpses of just out of the shadow of his eyes. [[Sometimes the worst monsters are really just humans, after all.|afterallmonsters]]

It’s called a captain’s bed, but it’s never led you anywhere. You used to pretend it was a boat on a sea of bad dreams and if you didn’t touch the carpet you wouldn’t sink, [[but this is not a story about the events on top of beds|monsters]].

The raven turns its head and pierces the skin of your face with its beak. It punctures the flesh of your cheek. It bites down and tugs, widening the wound.\n\nThe sun continues to sink. The purple dye of twilight works slowly across the orange canvas of the sky.\n\nYou wish the raven would leave you alone, but [[you know that it won't]].

You watch night subsume the dusk as the raven eats away at your cheek. The carnival has finished its growing, a jagged mass of splinters and sounds and red-white tents, cackling and crackling away in the [[October night]].

@@font-size:3em;I hadn't felt safe with Harry, not really, not ever.@@ @@font-size:1.5em;I always say now, “don't date magicians. Their major skill is making you believe you've made a choice, when they've really just been manipulating you the whole time.” [[He once tried to saw me in half]]. He wanted me to be his assistant.@@

Justin was near the edge of the woods now, able to see the trees beginning to thin and dim lights from the road. Justin's heart was pounding, and he was sure that safety was close. He pushed his legs to go, determined to make it, but those thoughts of salvation were cut down, just like his legs out from under him. Alex had tackled him with some deal of strength, quickly turning him, sitting atop his chest with her knees pinning his arms. She was so real, but the people still laughing at him, they were in question. \n\n[[“There we go,” she said playfully. “I like being on top.”]]\n

"Ugh," says the voice. "Fuckin' nasty, that."\n\n"Someone's idea of a joke," says another, higher, oily.\n\n"[[What should we do with it?]]"

She comes to my bed every night while I'm asleep and she stands over me and [[pricks me with her thorn]].

[[It was an out of body experience.]]

Justin was about to yell. His body clenched, protectively, like he had so many times before. This could not be happening and he had just officially lost it. Alex's hand was quicker though, [[blocking his mouth and nose as his cries were muffled]].

Flipping on the stereo? Volume stuck on max. Showing off the locks? Out the window, with you-doors wouldn't open. Test drive? If it even cranked -- the brakes would be shot.\n\n<<timedgoto "til the Figure came 'round" 6s>>

<<timedinsert 2.5s>>I let go of the string, and smile.<<endtimedinsert>> <<timedgoto "another ghost story" 10s>>

I knew enough not to ask, though. It was a word of caution from my mother when I moved in. “Mia, baby, whatever you do, just don’t bother your aunt about her fashion choices, okay? Especially her accessories. She likes what she likes, okay?”\n \n[[I agreed|agreed]], naïve as ever.

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“Justin… dear…” she said curtly. “I said it was a joke. Charlie told me to say it….” \n\nJustin turned almost quicker than he could comprehend, lucky that he did not piss himself as well. The naked figure in front of him caused his eyes to widen and his body to clench. \n\n[[“It was your friend that said you'd find that shit funny,” she cursed. “Charlie swore that was the kind of sick joke you'd appreciate.”]]\n

A new girl came to our school. Her name was Rose. She was beautiful, just like the flower. Her lips were ruby red. Her skin was flushed and had a [[rose coloured hue]]. She had a cute-as-a-button nose and beautiful brown eyes. Her black hair glistened like diamonds under the bright sun. It cascaded down her back like smooth satin.

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\n\n<<timedgoto "mana2" 4s>>

I feel for the string of the bell by my face. All I have to do is [[pull it|blank 14]].

You abandon your search for the desk lamp and take a step. The stabbing pain in your foot is such that you suck back your breath to stiffle a whimper. You can feel the blood drain from your head -- it hurts that sharply.\n\nYou reach down and pull a shard of glass from your foot. Glass!? Why is glass on the floor?\n\nYou carefully lower your foot to the floor but you don't put your weight on it because you can feel more broken glass.\n\n[[And the lamp!]]\n\n

I smiled half-heartedly, and then retreated to my bedroom.\n\nThose eyes. That smile.\n\nSo charming.\n\nSo [[manipulative]].

Everyone's always telling me to "sit still" and "be quiet" and it'll be all right. \n\n<<timedreplace 3s>><<becomes>>But they're wrong.<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 4s>><<becomes>>Things will never be okay.<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 5s>><<becomes>>Ever [[again|again]]<<endtimedreplace>>

The @@font-size:1.5em;red ribbon@@ matched her hair perfectly. At first, I didn’t even think anything of it; it just seemed so perfect in my aunt’s effortless sorta-steampunk style.\n \nThen I started to realize something.\n \n<<timedreplace 5s>><<becomes>>[[@@font-size:2em;She never took it off@@.|never took it off]]<<endtimedreplace>>

[[But I can't.]] She won't listen anyway.

I was sure I heard footsteps from the end of the hallway but I quickened my pace and muffled a whimper. I took the stairs down, two at a time, and grabbed the banister to swing myself around the corner as I headed into the kitchen. I flicked on the light and stopped dead in my tracks.\n\n<<timedreplace 8s>><<becomes>>There was [[nothing]] coming from the faucet, but I could still here it.<<endtimedreplace>>\n

I spun around to the sound of the noise. It was coming from the laundry room - in the basement. “Of course” I thought – “the one room with no light”. Aggravated, I grabbed a flashlight from underneath the sink, and flicked it on as I marched towards the laundry room stairs. I gathered all my courage, held my breath, and headed down the stairs. My heart was racing so fast I could feel it through my shirt, and hear it [[in my ears]].

I turned to run, and saw a @@font-size:3em;menacing dark figure step into the doorway at the top of the stairs.@@\n\n[[“Humans can lick too, beautiful”.|another ghost story]]\n

Ugh. The [[kitchen]].

My eyes shot open. I couldn’t take it. I took a deep breath, and headed towards the door.\n\nMy heart was racing. @@font-size:3em;[[“Don’t think about scary things. Don’t think about scary things”]].@@\n

If you didn’t have a bed with drawers underneath, like I did as a kid. Full of Archie comics I refused to throw away for years. Remember something about that, it might be important [[later|Under]].)

I tried to ignore it at first, hoping the drip would stop, but the longer I waited, the @@font-size: 4em;louder@@ it seemed. The bathroom sink felt light years away, and I warily looked out into the darkness of my [[bedroom door]].

@@font-size:2em;I dig my nails deeper and harder. If there is any part of Harry left inside of me, I'm determined to rip it out myself.@@\n\n@@font-size:1em;I can still feel his hands on my arms, and every part of me shudders. His touch was poison. I didn't poison myself - [[his breath was a toxicity that was airborne.]]@@

Untitled Story

Although it is now 6 months and a dozen parties into the university year, you still can't navigate this room without turning on the light. It's especially hard to navigate while you're under the influence of three beers and four whiskeys.\n\nYou dare not turn on the light because you promised your roommate, Beth, you would not awaken her. \n\nIn this darkness you cannot see 'Beth the bookworm' but you can hear faint breathing coming from the general direction of her bed. The breaths are shallow and irregular -- not the deep steady breaths of a heavy sleeper. Beth is a very light sleeper. Beth will surely be upset if you disturb her. While you were out partying, she studied for tomorrow's big science test. You are depending on borrowing her study notes for a last minute cram. Without those notes you will fail the test. It's a failure you can't afford.\n\nYou place your hand on the desk to steady yourself. You remember there's a lamp on the desk. If you turn it on you will be able to see your bed but you might awaken Beth. \n\nIf you do not turn on the light, you will fumble in the dark to find your bed and possibly make enough noise to awaken Beth anyway. What should you do?\n\n[[Turn on the desk lamp|Turn on the desk lamp]].\n\n[[Do not turn on the desk lamp|Do not turn on the desk lamp]].\n

Now that I am a sophomore in high school, I still walk down the hallway with my head hung low. I see all the kids staring at me. They're probably thinking, “Oh, here comes Oliver, waddling down the hallway, like a big fat giant olive.” I always dreaded walking down hallways at school. It was as if I was on a runway. Instead of being a superstar model, I was a roll of fat that was walking down the runway as if there was cake waiting for me at the end of the hallway. [[Everyday I wanted to disappear]].

One night I woke up to a slow dripping sound [[echoing]] through my older house.\n\n\n

Heels [[click]] outside.

@@font-size:2em;“I feel like I'm missing an important part of the story, though. Like, why she comes after you.” He laughs, but not humorously. Helplessly.@@ @@font-size:2.5em;“The important thing is knowing what to do - or not do - so she won't come after you, and I can't even remember that. [[Maybe she comes after you no matter what you do]].@@ @@font-size:1.5em;Anyways, I was a child when I heard this. Oh, also, we have this other urban legend about faeries.”@@

My aunt had gorgeous red hair. I used to joke around and call her Elizabeth Siddal, the Pre-Raphealite painter’s model who almost died of pneumonia while posing for a painting of Ophelia. \n\nBut unlike Siddal’s gorgeous flowing locks, my aunt’s hair was short, cut close to her skull. She didn’t want the fuss of styling it. Said she [[gave up on all that years|gave up]] and years before.

He puts a hand on her back and attempts to laugh. "Hell of a decoration, huh? Must be where they put all the money they saved on those cheap-ass prizes."\n\nShe nods slowly. Her eyes never leave yours. "Yeah," she [[murmurs]].

Justin did not get a chance to answer, to tell Alex the wonderful plan he had concocted, because there was the sound of an engine. \nAlex cursed in Spanish under her breath, she wondered if they could have a few more minutes if she kept him quiet, but then heard Vicky calling out both of their names. \n\n[[“Justin! Alex!”]]\n

He was stuck in the moment, determined to fix the situation he had gotten himself into. He needed to think of how to deal with Charlie and Vicky, how to spin this all to them. If he did this right, Charlie would help him hide the body. Charlie owed him. He had done time for that man. This is what Justin thought as he crawled away, sitting under the bright moon in his boxers with his legs tucked underneath him as he looked at the pretty dead girl in front of him. [[Justin thought he was about to vomit, hearing his former cellmates behind him, laughing at his expense.]]

When I was in my mid-20s, I went to live with my aunt in Toronto. I was pursuing a post-graduate diploma in Creative Writing, and a year of graduate school had (and no concept of how to properly budget my funding money) had [[left me penniless.|penniless]]

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It had all been rather stupid. Justin took the fall for a group of friends, pill distributors and small time pot farmers. He was only twenty and had already served nine months in jail-the roughest [[nine months of his life]]-but it seemed to have been the sobering experience his parents had thought it would be. Upon his release Justin distanced himself from those 'friends', even though he had never once dreamed of giving them up for leniency, a decision which he paid for.

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Heavy blankets tips of sewn yellow roses smelled like lavender before now [[it smells like lavender and someone else’s sweat.|hug]]

Keith was smart enough to leave it alone.\n\n[[At least, he says he did.|another ghost story]]\n

@@font-size:3em;“Anywhere,” I said. What I really meant was nowhere.@@ @@font-size:2.5em;I could feel every inch of skin, taut over my veins as my blood circulated the infection through every part of me. Every nook and cranny, especially behind the ears.@@ @@font-size:4em;If only the poison were real, and [[not just a metaphor]].@@

@@font-size:1.5em;I laid in my bed, staring out my window, thinking about words.@@\n\n@@font-size:4em;[[Did saying “emotional abuse” make it easier to understand?]]@@

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My cousin once asked me if people ever really get buried alive. <br><br>My uncle cut me off, responding with all the authority of someone who’s been on the internet <br>[[once or twice|we have systems]]:

Instead of only my arm being itchy, my entire body felt itchy. Then I looked down and [[I discovered that my bed was soaked in blood]]. My heart raced. I knew something was wrong.

Don't know what I was saying about loss... maybe it had to do with this woman? I wanted to lose this woman, who I just realized continue to follow me. \n\nI didn't hear her walking. Every time I looked behind me, she was just a little closer, her feet seemingly melting into the ashphalt and her eyes glaring at me. They seemed to glow in the darkness. I could see them clearly and for the first time I really looked at them, those dark brown eyes. \n\nThey seemed so [[familiar|The end 2]]. \n\n

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Justin finally met Vicky, Charlie's girlfriend who he had been hearing about for the past six months, and her friend Alex, whom the couple was trying to not-so-subtly hook Justin up with. Alex had seemed shy at first, and bored that night. Shortly, they relocated to the woods - [[a quiet spot]] Charlie used to get high and write some of his shitty poetry.

But the air is getting thinner, and I suppose I can’t stay in here forever.\n\n<<timedgoto "blank 5" 4s>>

“I'm sorry,” she said just before the first impact, “It was a joke, stop,” she begged before the second. He was not listening and by that time she was not making sense, unable to speak properly from the trauma. His hands were still on her head, feeling the warmth that remained, even though she had quit moving. Not quite all there, Justin's departure from her was slow, [[eyes locked on her face]].

Or at least in the old days, as Keith put it. Always threw that bit in there. \n\n<<timedreplace 3s>><<becomes>>According to him, the Figure pulled the same stunt every Thursday for a good ten weeks. As soon as they even saw a salesperson //flinch//, they'd slink into their car and ride into the distance. \n\nBy week eleven, Big Charles was so mad that he sat Keith behind the Cadillac wheel. Didn't matter if he got heat stroke, Big Charles wanted him there [[til the Figure came 'round]].<<endtimedreplace>>

//Couldn't see much at first.\n\n<<timedreplace 1.5s>><<becomes>>I woke up on a cement floor. It was damp and cold, smelled like wet garbage and mildew. \n\nAfraid to get up, I decided lying there was the safest thing I could do. My heart thundered. My eyes stung, I could feel my nose begin to run. \n\nNone of that mattered. Try to search the room?// [[Yes]]/[[No]]<<endtimedreplace>>\n

That was not entirely true though, he distanced himself from them, but not from Charlie. Charles Wagner was a conundrum and an asshole, but he was Justin's asshole, and had been the only one to actually write and visit Justin during his sentence. So it stood to reason that once Justin was allowed outside of the house again that the first person he would want to spend time with was Charlie, who had promised a large bag of weed and a night with a beautiful woman to welcome his friend back into the arms of a loving society. Charlie was an odd one, but he seemed like a true friend, and [[Justin would do almost anything]] to finally spend a night without the nightmares prison had bestowed upon him.

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I [[<big>scream</big>|so loudly]].

//Because, though I did all I could, gave all I had, helped all those who could be helped, still the halls and rooms of my home stayed empty.//\n\nThe raven chews pensively on the scrap of your skin.\n\n"I will stay with you for a time, [[if you like]]."

What I’m actually hearing is the sound most familiar to me in the world. The rhythmic beat that has scored my entire life, indistinguishable from my own pulse. The sound of [[dirt hitting wood|blank 7]].\n

@@font-size:4em;I touched my stomach.@@ //[[What would I even do?]]//

//“Please help.” The rest is missing.//\n\n@@font-size:2em;[[The diary ends there.|another ghost story]]@@

<<timedreplace 2s>> <<becomes>>@@font-size:2em;“It’s ... @@<<endtimedreplace>> <<timedreplace 5s>> <<becomes>> @@font-size:2.5em;just ... @@<<endtimedreplace>> <<timedreplace 7s>> <<becomes>>[[@@font-size:2.75em;odd."@@|odd]]<<endtimedreplace>>

Each <big>//thwump//</big> of earth reminds me of another task I needed to have done, another person who's concerned for me, another thing I should be grateful for. <<timedgoto "blank 11" 6s>>

And, finally, I do. <<timedgoto "i let go" 4s>>

//You will stay only until you have fed yourself fat on my skin. You will take what you can, and then you will leave, and I will be alone again.//\n\n"Perhaps once you had more to offer than skin," whispers the raven, "but now..."\n\nThe raven falls silent and [[continues to eat]].

@@font-size:2.5em;The creature has long hair, so long that when its wings flap the hair stirs softly with the effort. I look down and realize its cut across in half. Tendrils of organs fall from its exposed stomach. Its fingers are coated in blood, maybe from trying to hold its organs in place? My own sticky hands begin to tremble.@@\n\n@@font-size:1em;//[[Something's wrong.]]//@@

But the truth is, if someone really was ever buried alive, we’d probably never even realize it. Chances are they would run out of oxygen long before anyone heard the bell.<br><br> <<timedinsert 6.5s>>After a while I just stopped thinking about it.<<endtimedinsert>>\n\n<<timedgoto "and yet" 12s>>

@@font-size:1.5em;At the@@ \n@@;text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em #333;opacity:0.5;font-size:7em;Carnival@@ \n\n<<timedgoto "Start 2" 4s>>

@@font-size:2em;I always hated him for that.@@ @@font-size:1.5em;Making me think everything was safe when [[it really wasn't]].@@

Your arm disobeys your impulse to reach up and swat at the raven. It remains lax at your side. The raven continues to eat in silence, plucking another shard of skin from your sallow face.\n\n"Most generous of you," it [[whispers|continues to eat]].

//@@font-decoration:underline; Day 1@@// \n\n//[[I'm in the dark here.]]//

@@font-size:2.5;The creature moves closer to my window, so close that if it weren't for the thin layer of glass, we'd be nose to nose.@@ \n@@font-size:4em;[[Reflections of each other|reflections]], basically.@@\n\n

\n\n@@font-size:8em;[[Lights Out, //please//|Intro]]@@\n\n@@font-size:3em;//we want to tell you a ghost story//@@

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@@font-size:1.5em;It was from Jayson.@@\n\n@@font-size:2em;[[“How you holding up?”]]@@\n

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Your fingers feel the wall beside the door and finally, there it is. You switch on the light and turn to go to your bed.\n\nBefore you can scream he has one calloused hand over your mouth and the other rises up, gripping a knife that glints in the light. Past his gnarly head you can finally see [[what the darkness concealed.]]

The Basement\n\n<<timedgoto "basementstart" 4s>>

@@font-size:2.5em;“Manananggal is a woman. A monster, actually, thought tobe a reflection of what was always called a "deeply disturbed person." She can detach her torso from her legs, and she has wings, so she can fly.”@@\n\n@@font-size:1.5em;“That's terrifying.”@@\n\n@@font-size:2.5em;“Yeah, it gets worse though. She has this long tongue that she uses to steal babies from wombs. She only goes after people who are pregnant.”@@\n\n@@font-size:1em;We both loved horror, and [[I always said horror was the one thing that would cheer me up]].@@\n

You are watching the red-orange sun sink beneath a distant crest of hill. Tiny fingers of cool air slide between your bare toes. The tree sighs. The rope creaks.\n\n[[A raven lights on your shoulder]].

@@font-size:1.5em;I watched as my fingers wrapped over Rose's delicate and creamy neck. I felt my fingers slowly starting to contract around her neck. The more she struggled,@@ @@font-size:2.5em;[[the harder I squeezed]].@@

@@font-size:3em;Am I@@ \n@@font-size:4em;//Beautiful?//@@\n\n<<timedgoto "StartCarli" 4s>>

I don't know. I've been at this for years now, and I've never seen it happen.<br><br> <<timedinsert 3.5s>>I used to think about it sometimes while I'd fill in the graves.<br><br> <<gains>>And yeah, sure, if you ignore all the preventative steps that could have been taken before the person was put in the ground, or the fact that none of these “systems” actually considered providing them with air, the safety precautions are [[enough|truth is]]. <<endtimedinsert>>

@@font-size:2.5em;I looked back at the window. The face was still there, it's tongue still writhing in the middle of a wicked grin.@@ \n\n<<timedreplace 2s>><<becomes>>@@font-size:3em;But it wasn't as close this time. [[It must have moved back a few inches]].@@<<endtimedreplace>>

you know, //polite company//.\n\n<<timedgoto "my cousin" 4s>>

You’d like to say [[yes]] or [[no]].\n\nBut the monster comes in and gets its hug. Later, you’ll remember being told to lie on the [[carpet beyond the other side of the bed]] on the floor. \n\nLater you’ll remember the weight on top you. Wishing it was a [[ghost]] instead. \n

It’s one of those bright and sunny days that people love so much. But the sun feels hostile, and gravity is trying to pull the limbs from my torso. Sometimes simply just <small>existing</small> is exhausting.<br><br> The grave beside the bell is open, and there’s an [[empty|not sure]] coffin smiling at me invitingly. I have the overpowering desire to see, after all this time, what it’s actually like down there.<br><br>

The toddler is not consoled. Its eyes are locked to yours. You do not understand the expressions of children, but for a moment it seems as though the child is crying not from fear, but from [[overwhelming pity]].

@@font-size:2.5em;With a gust of wind, the branches swayed and the leaves obscured the light from the lamppost. I turned to look fully out my window, and immediately froze.\n\n<<timedreplace 2.5s>><<becomes>>[[There was a face.]]<<endtimedreplace>>@@

"Leave it," says the oily voice.\n\n"[[Adds to the decor]]."

@@font-size:2.5em;Instead I look out the window. The face is still there, snarling at me with that tongue.@@\n\n@@font-size:1.5em;//Why can't he just leave me alone? He's already taken everything he can from me.//[[I have nothing left.]]@@

I looked at her crackling face, which at this distance seemed to be falling apart, and could not muster up the words. There was nothing beautiful about her now. Flecks of her skin blew off in the breeze and I can see the patches where her hair had fallen out. I prayed I never had to see what was under the mask. \n\n"I..."\n\nShe inched a little closer. "Am I beautiful?" she repeated, removing her mask to reveal the slits near the edges of her mouth. I had tried to bring back her smile, the one I missed from all those years ago. Her mouth opened wider than I had ever seen it, her black gums melting out from the jagged holes on her cheeks. \n\nThere it was, the smile I missed. I missed it so much that I took that knife and forced it upon her. I never wanted to lose it again, that smile, that happiness, that face that said I was loved. \n\n"You're beautiful. As always."\n\nNot sure if that worked. The world seemed to swirl around us, blur and fade without shape or definition, all I wanted was for her to see the face of sincerity and apology, that I truly meant what I said.\n\nOnce. I meant it once. Maybe that was enough. At least the smile was there.\n\n"Am I beautiful?" she repeated. She slashed at my face but I didn't see a knife. "Am I beautiful now??" She slashed again. I could feel the blood dripping over my chin. [[It was almost soothing.|another ghost story]] \n\n\n

I remember her eyes as she she screamed, as I held the weightless knife in my hand. Everything in the span of creation seemed to be leading me to this moment, with the blade and her drowning face, covered in tears and blood that looked like it stung just a little as it seeped into each of the little cuts on her cheeks.\n\nI remember holding her chin in my hand (it fit between two fingers) and sticking the tip into her mouth and she trembled. For the first time she felt me. She really felt me. \n\nI remember pleading for her to smile. I needed it. I wanted to see it so bad, to remember what it was like when she needed me. \n\nAnd then I moved the blade back and forth, drawing out that grin. \n\nThere it is. There's that [[smile|Smiling and walking]].

\nI'm getting too old for this. Maybe I should retire soon, spend the rest of my days drinking beer and watching TV. Or maybe I should pick up a hobby. Maybe I can get back in the dating game, pick up some girls. I'm not old enough to be completely done yet.\n\nAlthough nothing excited me anymore, not even women. \n\nNot since I lost her. \n\nWell, "lost" isn't the proper word. I don't know what could describe what happened to her. \n\nShe was just upset all the time. I couldn't get her to smile. She would just scream at me, clutch her stomach, wonder why I never wanted to be with her, but then shy away and scream some more when I got close. I wanted her so bad. I wanted her small body against mine and I wanted her to tell me how strong I was. I wanted everything about her, from her slim waist to her thick, tuggable hair and especially that wonderful mouth of hers.\n\nI \n\nwanted \n\n[[her|Quick walk]].

Sitting in the bathroom stall.\n\n[[Someone is coming]]

//My t shirt's collar was soaked. The back of my head hurt a lot, no oozing wound. I could feel the cut. \n\nMy face felt worse. Swollen. lip was split open. dried blood in my mouth\nNose broken. Blood dried around nostrils. \n\nStill have my all my teeth. I can still smell. \n\nStill breath through all my tubes.\n\nHead and neck: check\n\nMy wrists sore. Stomach sore. Legs ok. Arms and hands intact.\n\nNo tears on my T-shirt or jeans. My jacket is missing. My usual hoodie is gone too. Pockets empty. Left my shoes and socks though.\n\nEverything is intact.\n\nI had to find a way out. But instead I cried until I fell asleep. Curled up.\n\n[[I slept a lot after that. I never felt like I was resting. Only waiting.]]//\n

The walk home from work seemed worse than usual today. My feet felt heavy in my leather shoes, my tie too tight, the sweat dripping in buckets off my brow. The air hung silent beneath the street lamps. I remember thinking that all I wanted at that point was to drop onto my bed and I didn't care about taking off my pants. Maybe I'll wear the same thing to work tomorrow, not even bother showering. I couldn't bear to lift my arms and remove my coat. Everything just felt... [[heavy|The First Meeting]].

One day, something [[unthinkable]] happened.

@@font-size:1.5em;What I saw was a reflection of my own body. Except my body was different. My body was covered in hundreds of tiny pin-sized holes.@@ @@font-size:2.5em;[[Holes with blood dripping out from them.]]@@ @@font-size:1.5em;I felt myself lose consciousness as I slid down to the floor.@@

<<timedgoto "next" 2.5s >>\n(controlled transition to next passage)\n\n<<timedreplace 6s >> <<becomes>>I was pursuing a post-graduate diploma in Creative Writing, and a year of graduate school had (and no concept of how to properly budget my funding money) had [[left me penniless.|penniless]]<<endtimedreplace>>\n(timed appearance of text)\n\n<<display "Red Ribbon">> \n(displays content of an entire passage)

@@font-size:5em;A leering, smiling face. With a long tongue, like a snake's.@@ @@font-size:2.5em;I wondered if that tongue dripped venom. Was it used for self-defense? I should be okay, as long as I don't provoke it - at least that's what I've always been led to believe.@@ @@font-size:1.5em;[[How silly, of me]], I should have realized.@@

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I felt like I was going to puke. The smell seemed to have attached itself to my clothing, my skin, my bones. Now that she was close I could see that her face was falling apart, flecks of skin blowing off with the breeze. I could see the clumps of gray skin where hair once was, how uneven everything seemed to be. She was not who I once knew, that beautiful girl with the smile. \n\nThen again, I knew what saying no would mean. She was always very tempermental when it came to her looks.\n\n"Am I beautiful?" she repeated, removing her mask to reveal the slits near the edges of her mouth. I had tried to bring back her smile, the one I missed from all those years ago. Her mouth opened wider than I had ever seen it, her black gums melting out from the jagged holes on her cheeks. Her smile, It was grotesque. She was grotesque. \n\n"You're disgusting," I spat at her. "You always have been, with your whiny ass. No wonder I destroyed you. I should have done it sooner."\n\nAnd that was the end of it. [[Felt good though.|another ghost story]]

The raven says nothing, but watches all of this transpire with an academic curiosity.\n\n"This never happens to us," whispers the raven.\n\n//What? Unkindness?//\n\n"We always know our own dead," whispers the raven.\n\n[[You say nothing]].

We stopped having sex around two years into our relationship. Sex wasn't common in our household before this, but now there was nothing but dryness and it was starting to hurt. I wanted to go inside her, fuck her senseless, have her scream and then break out into that smile I loved so much. It made me feel like a king. \n\nThen I felt like a fool.\n\nI remember one night coming to bed, getting under the covers with her and wrapping my arms around her slim waist. I remember her turning over away from me and clutching her stomach. \n\n"What's the pont?" she said later.\n\n"Because I love you."\n\n"But what is the point, really? Am I beautiful to you?"\n\n"Yes you are. You're beautiful."\n\nOr something like that. It's been a while. It's not important.\n\n"I don't believe you," she yelled. "What is the point of any of this? Do you even love me?!?"\n\nI remember staring at her as she yelled, throwing her arms in the air, her hair in knots. I recall looking at her and wondering when I would see that smile again, if I ever would see that smile again.\n\n[[What was I doing?|Walk 3]]\n

Another loud bang shakes the house, and I catch my breath and hold it in. I know I won't have to wait long before the screaming begins, and I'm right. \n\nNo, not screaming. It's that @@font-size:2em;demonic wailing.@@ \n\nI hear @@font-size:3em;footsteps@@ above me. Crashing sounds. My heart starts to beat faster. The walls around me start to rattle and the room spins.\n\nThe @@font-size:3em;footsteps@@ are on the stairs now, heavy and angry, getting closer, getting @@font-size:4em;[[louder]].@@\n\n\n

@@font-size:2.5em;I heard Jayson's words, not like a voice over in a cheesy horror flick, but moreso as a whisper, right beside my ear.@@\n\n@@font-size:3em;[[Was this manananggal, or the other version?|Unti]]@@\n

He will pierce those fingers in, taking out pieces of you. He will pull out your bones and your teeth, eviscerate you and burn your skin until there is nothing left but hardened leather. Until you are nothing but the lifeless [[doll]] he craves. Until you are nothing but his.

In fact, Justin had nearly forgotten about Alex except in where his story was concerned. He was too wrapped in his own thoughts, starting to believe his own lies. In his defense, it would have been hard to see the body shifting in the dark anyway, no matter how much the pale moon accented her features. How was he even suppose to believe what was happening, anyway? [[None of it made sense anymore.]]

//All you have to do is ask for help.// <<timedgoto "blank 13" 4s>>

The first monster is a shape in the bedroom doorway, too heavy with breathing and piled flesh to be a ghost. Sweatpants tight over its gut. Your ghosts never wear sweatpants, never have guts. Funny monster. Lit behind from the hallway of your <<cyclinglink $WORD "grandmother's" "mum's" "dad's" "friend's" "uncle's">> house, it is the colour of nights away from your real bed. The one you’re in now sags heavy under sheets and blankets and [[you]]. \n\nEmbroidered yellow roses you trace with your hands in the dark.\n\nThe monster wants a [[hug]]. \n

@@color:white;text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em #333;opacity:0.5;font-size:10em;Credits@@\n\n@@font-size:2em;Some of the stories were written under@@ @@font-size:2.5em; pseudonyms.@@\n@@font-size:2em;Special thanks@@ @@font-size:1.5em;to Sidney, Javy, Zoya, and Kelsi, for their advice with this project.@@\n\n\n\n@@font-size:2em;Thanks for playing, //Lights Out, Please.//@@\n

[[ “Justin,” Charlie said as the van pulled off. “Dude, what is that smell? Did you piss yourself or something?”|another ghost story]]

But at that moment, I couldn't resist my urge. I pushed her back onto her bed and I kissed her. Rose tried to push me away and kept saying, “No, Oliver. We can't.” [[But I didn't listen.]] The more she struggled, the more excited I felt.

[[Elegant and poised, just like my Rose.]]

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It was over. It was all over. I climbed off of her and I saw Rose's lifeless body. How peaceful she looked. How elegant and regal. Just like the single rose on her night stand, [[the lifeless Rose]] looked like so beautiful and serene.

The sky has gone dark. A moon the color of a burning house sits atop the crest of a far, black hill. In the darkness of the outskirts of town, the carnival is a yowling, kaleidoscopic beacon, a cacophony of light. A breeze presses against your legs. You [[sway gently]].

@@font-size:8em;Oliver@@\n@@text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em #333;opacity:0.5;font-size:9em;&@@ \n@@font-size:8em;Rose@@\n\n<<timedgoto "oli1" 4s>>

<<timedreplace 0.5s>><<becomes>>@@font-size: 2em; Drip.@@<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 1.5s>><<becomes>>@@font-size: 4em;Drip.@@<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 2.5s>><<becomes>>@@font-size: 6em;[[Drip.|Drip4]]@@<<endtimedreplace>>

@@font-size:2.5em;I watched as she struggled for her breath. I watched as her face turned crimson red. I watched as her lips form the words@@ @@font-size:3em;[[“please.”]]@@ @@font-size:2.5em;I watched as I saw her take her last breath.@@

I didn’t know my aunt before I moved in with her. I knew of her, but I had never actually met her. She didn’t care to return to Windsor, and I had had no business in Toronto until school brought me in that direction.\n \n<<timedreplace 5.5s>> <<becomes>>[[“Why do you ask?”|it's just]] I could hear the shift in tone in my mom’s voice.<<endtimedreplace>>\n

Cathleen MacDonald

She screams, loudly. Both she and her companion lurch back. The collision sets you swinging, twisting. The branch and the rope creak together. A few dead leaves drift earthward.\n\nThe raven, jostled from its perch, takes flight and disappears into the overhanging night. As it flies, you hear it whisper to you one last time:\n\n"[[Enjoy your prison]]."

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Upstairs, I pulled off my socks and grabbed my cell in order to call my current boyfriend.\n\nNeeded to shake the weight of that stare.\n\n[["Harry, hi, can we talk?"]]

@@font-size:1em;Of course.\n\n[[I am always to blame after all.]]@@\n\n

"I mean, you'd almost think [[it was real|another ghost story]]."

“Mom. Can I ask you a question?”\n<<timedreplace 2s >> <<becomes>>"Sure, Mia, what's wrong?"<<endtimedreplace>>\n<<timedreplace 4s>> <<becomes>>“….it’s about Sally. How long has she been wearing the red ribbon around her neck for?”<<endtimedreplace>>\n \n<<timedgoto "why" 7s >>\n\n\n\n

Another breeze blows. You twist again, more this time, and for a moment your vision fills with rough bark. The tree creaks. You twist back to the autumn dusk.\n\nWith each passing minute you can feel your skin softening, feel gravity pulling at the loosening bones of your fingers and toes.\n\n[[Evening is coming]].

You might have heard about monsters. \nFunny monsters, scary monsters, as far away as the thickness of your [[mattress]].\n \nHiding in your closet, in the corners with the shirts you stopped wearing years ago. \n\nLet me tell you a story about [[two monsters]]. \n

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"What's wrong?"\n\n"I don't know... I just have a bad feeling about this guy, ya know?"\n\nHarry sighed, and even though I can't see him, I know the face he's making.\n\nIt's a common one.\n\n"Look, Mia. We've been through this before. [[You're just paranoid."]]

I looked down at my wrists. Maybe I should tie my own red ribbon? Maybe that's why Sally wear her's.\n\n"I know, but -- "\n\n"Mia, call the therapist. This isn't about you not trusting your aunt's new dude, and you know it."\n\n"Harry --"\n\n"Call the therapist, okay? You're letting your suspicions destroy you."\n\nShortly after is when we hung up. He said he wasn't feeling well, and would be around [[if I wanted to talk again.]]\n\n

One of the top dealerships in the South used to sit on the corner of 45th, right 'cross from the old mall. You can pin that "used to" on their troubles with a luxury order-a jet black [[Cadillac|Cadioff]] ... \n \nIt was on the high end for their usual clientele, but Big Charles stood firm that just //showcasing// a product like that would draw people in--an "[[aspirational]] status symbol". \n

That was the first time I heard her voice. Those three words that came out of her mouth sounded like angels singing in a choir in heaven. They sounded like a harmonious symphony to my ears. I never knew someone could sound so sweet and innocent. When I looked into her eyes, I saw something. I saw relief. I saw kindness. I saw purity. [[And just like that, I was hers.]] I was captivated by her.

The van had slowed down as Vicky yelled for them again. Alex took Justin's hand and put on her smile, motioning for him to do the same as she led them out. Charlie stopped the van when he saw the trees parting and someone pushing through. Vicky opened up the side door. \n\n“There you two are, why did you wander off so far?” \n\n[[“Oh you know, Vick, privacy.”]]\n\nThe two girls laughed as Alex practically helped the still wide-eyed Justin into the van. The door slid back shut and Charlie began to pick up speed down the deserted Georgia back road. \n

The body twisted slightly at the neck, and folded one leg underneath as a brace. The rest of the blood had found its way home and Justin could not see the animated corpse rising behind him. Alex's expression had been one of patience and wonder as she died, with her mouth slightly agape and eyes widened. They were narrowing now though, and her lips fell to a frown as her naked form stood tall and [[ready to approach her killer]].

@@font-size:2.5em;Outside, the leaves swayed again, and the light from the lamppost flickered. I felt safe with Jayson.@@ @@font-size:3;Safe. Like, even though he didn't know how, [[he would protect me]].@@

Silence.<<timedgoto "silence" 3s>>

//I watched and listened for anything that would give me ideas about where I was. Thin blades of light appeared in the air every couple of minutes. Cars? Couldn't hear them. Couldn't be a subway either because I'd feel it well before any light reached this room. If it's even a room.\n\nWhen I finally got the guts to look around\n\nIt took a while but I realized I should check it out. All of it. \n\nSearch? [[Yes|YesNo]]/[[No.|YesNo]]//\n

I didn't go home, and I didn't drop the matter of the @@font-size:1.5em;red ribbon@@ either.\n\nI just knew I had to be a bit sneakier about it, is all.\n\nSo I didn't bring it up again to my mom. She had her [[reasons|reasons]] for protecting my Aunt Sally's secrets, as strange as they were.

Oil is crackling in a fryer somewhere close. Automatons are cackling, grainy laughter rattling up from throats of tin and wire. The dirt path by the tree is lined with leering jack-o-lanterns.\n\nBehind you, a gruff voice [[speaks]].

<small>But it would be so much easier to just be [[dead|blank 16]]</small>.

\nPallid. Gaunt. And a disarming gaze of warmth.\n \n“Fine time for you to show up. What do you want? That stupid Cadillac?” Big Charles cried.\n \nHe choked back a gasp as the Figure reached into their coat. [[They brandished|Cadillac]]...

[[I want to tell her to stop.]] Each prick is too painful.

She stood him up, hand still over his mouth as she whispered to him. \n\n“[[Okay, little boy…]]we are going to walk out to our friends out there all smiles,” she instructed while dusting him off, “pretending like that was the best sex either of us ever had, and that nothing that actually happened did.” \n

@@color:white;text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em #333;opacity:0.5;font-size:10em;Credits@@\n\nFor more, you can follow me on Twitter at<a href="http://www.twitter.com/kaittremblay">@kaittremblay.</a>\n\nYou can also <a href="http://thatmonster.wordpress.com/other-media">play my other Twines.</a>\n\nThe Man With The Hook Hand and The Babysitter were originally written for <a href="http://mkopas.net/2014/01/naked-twine-jam/">merritt kopas's Naked Twine Jam.</a>\n\nTo be continued!\n\n\n\n\n

She had already turned away though. He was not able to see the smirk on her face. \n\n“I'm going to tell Charlie I don't like how his friends treat me, and I'll bet Vicky will tell her dad, she is my friend after all. Her dad's a cop, you know.” \n\n“No, no! Wait.” Justin was almost yelling, hand outstretched, but she had already begun walking back to her pile of clothes by the log. He thought he saw another dark shadow run by. He turned to his head to follow it, but didn't see anything. He looked back at Alex. “You can't.” \n\n“Aren't you on probation too?” She asked looking over her should. “Smoking weed, drinking, and sex with a minor[[… wow]].” \n

“We could strip it for parts and sell them off! Hell, I'll take it for myself as severance pay!” \n\nAnd Big Charles snarled: “Key's right in the glove! But you can bet //they'll// come looking for you. And I don't want a thing to do with them or that [[black Cadillac]].”\n

The mother looks to her child, then behind herself, then to you. She, too, begins to laugh, consoling her child, its fear amusing to her.\n\n"Oh, honeybear," she laughs, "it's okay. It's just a [[scary decoration]]."

@@font-size:2em;You find us where we always are, but where you never expect us.@@\n@@font-size:1.5em;There is a bright fire in the middle of our ill-shaped and half-hearted circle. We are in a dark woods, protected by layers of oak trees, gathered around the fire, sitting on logs, crossed legs, blankets.\nSome of us are smiling, genuine smiles. Others, you can tell from the taut way their lips stretch across their teeth, their smiles mask something else. Something harder to swallow. \nWe are telling each other stories. Some of us are playing it up, using spooky voices and dramatic hand gestures when we talk. Others don’t take their eyes off the fire, their hands, their shoes, talking to somebody who isn’t even there.\n[[You sit down.|Story Menu]]@@\n \n@@font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:3.5em;Content Warning@@ \n@@font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:2em;Please read with care.@@ \nphysical abuse, sexual abuse, sexual assault, emotional abuse, violence for most stories. \nAll stories belong to the respective authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of others in this collection.

@@font-size:5em;[[One painful prick at a time.]]@@

Two beers later, it was like paint by numbers. Alex had been talking about wanting to go to the beach before summer ended, and Justin was listening diligently as his fingers played across her bare leg, all the way up to the short cut-off jean shorts. Charlie and Vicky had retreated back to the van and became intimate-loudly intimate. Alex had finally noticed and it was her that, with a devious smile, made the suggestion that they go find their own spot deeper in the woods. [[Justin would have agreed to almost anything she said at that point]] - like a dog she could pull along anywhere with her. No leash required though, he was being led by the bulge in his pants and the realization that it had been nearly a year since he had kissed a girl.

When it was done, they were both dirty and still breathing heavily, drinking in the humidity like sea water. There was only a brief moment of real silence before she threw and arm over him, leaning her head down to kiss the warm skin of his chest near black and red 'lucky XIII' tattoo. \n\n“That was…“ Alex's sentence cut short, as if she had changed her mind. \n\n“Great? Fun? We should go again?” Justin said with a smile, offering to finish her thought for her. \n\n“How much did I have to drink…?” Alex said unconvincingly. \n\n“Huh? I don't know. [[I'm not sure to be honest]],” he said leaning up. \n

The second monster is [[you|you2]]. \n\nNot every night, but some nights between the shadow in the doorway and the record that made your skin shrink around you, you pull the drawers out from underneath your [[normal bed]] at home. For as long as you still fit, you crawl inside where the drawer should go. You put yourself in storage, safe, under the bed where monsters and other <<cyclinglink "scary" "lost" "messy">> things are supposed to go. You wish you could pull the drawer back in after you and disappear, but this is increasingly difficult as you [[grow older]]. \n

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The demon did not need a mouth, for when he screamed it was not a human scream. But I could still hear it. More than hear it... I could feel it. It was a wail that seemed to @@font-size:1.5em;rise from the depths@@, coming up from the very @@font-size:1.5em;bowels of the earth@@ in a blood curdling roar that built in strength around me until it reverberated through my [[bones]].

Braving the hallway was one thing, but I was NOT going downstairs. I scurried back to bed, jumped under the covers, and reached down for Rhea. She went back to happily licking my hand, and I shut my eyes tight to try and [[ignore the sound]].

It was too quiet. If they were just playing around downstairs, why wasn't there laughter? Why wasn't there shouting.\n\nI got up.\n\n[["Sally, is everything okay down there?"]]

<<timedgoto "im out" 4s>>

Justin finally stood once he was sure there would be no vomiting and no more fearful tears. Quickly, he dressed and checked his pockets for the condom wrapper, then the blood on his hands, lining up everything for the story in his mind. Justin was turned around, distracted, and [[had not noticed that there was considerably less blood on the log now]].

//Of course you’re always sad if all you do is engage in such grave business. Spend more time with your friends, do normal things. Just// [[choose|the irony]] //to be happy.//

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[[We sat down on her bed.]]

//[[Yes - I tried my best to search, it didn't go well. I ended up puking for the first time that day. I was in trouble.|proceed1]]//

As the school year progressed, Rose and I became very close. We would eat lunch together at the schoolyard and we made inside jokes that only we understood. It was like we were in our own little world, our own refuge. It was magnificent. It was glorious. It was perfection. The bullies didn't seem to bother us anymore. We were so enwrapped in our blissful world that we didn't pay any attention to outside noises. The bullying eventually stopped. [[I guess their thinking was that two outsiders could have each other.]] And that was perfect for us.

I've always been a heavy guy. Rollie, Pollie, Ollie. That's what kids at school called me. It didn't help that my name is Oliver. Oliver. Ha! Even the name sounds round. Round like an olive. Fat like an [[olive]].

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She whispered into his ear after his yelp. \n\n“If you breathe one word of this to anyone, I take this away from you…” Alex paused. “Who am I kidding? You talk about what you saw at all and I'll have to kill you, do we understand?” \n\nJustin nodded franticly-scared, burning her image into his mind, a new fear. \n\n[[“Good, I didn't want to completely go from almost wanting a second date to thinking of you as a loose end.”]]\n

The flashlight hit the floor and I let out a bloodcurdling scream. My dog was hanging above the laundry room [[sink]], blood slowly pooling towards the drain.

@@font-size:1.5em;[[I shook my head. “No.”]]@@

@@font-size:7em;The@@ \n@@text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em #333;opacity:0.5;font-size:9em;Black@@ \n@@font-size:9em;Cadillac@@ \n\n<<timedgoto "black cadi" 4s>>

You used to be able to fit yourself, a flashlight, and a book [[at least|grow older]].

Yet now here I am, staring at this stupid bell, resenting it for bringing up memories and allowing the outside world to infiltrate my work. My [[safe haven|the grave beside]].

When I was younger, I’d take the long way home from school to sit under the tree by my favourite gravestone and read or do homework.<br><br> <<timedinsert 6s>>Sometimes I’d get to watch the plots be filled in. That’s the part I liked best. It’s like the gravediggers were tucking them into bed, except they didn’t have to wake up in the morning. I was sure it was the most important job in the world.<br><br><<endtimedinsert>><<timedinsert 15s>>It was safe and peaceful place; I was by myself but never [[alone|my mother]].<<endtimedinsert>>

Incredibly you make it to your bed. Your foot is throbbing but you'll tend to it in the morning. All you want is to sleep off the booze and wake up to a new day.\n\nAs your eyes drift shut and you slip into sleep you can still hear the shallow breathing from across the room.\n\n[[Morning comes too soon.]]

@@font-size:2.5em;I throw my phone against the wall.@@ @@font-size:3em;I scream and cry and twist my fingers into my hair, [[trying to rip it out completely]].@@

Slowly, lightly, it starts to rain.<br><br> <<timedinsert 5s>>The sound is comforting, knowing that while I’m here [[nothing can get to|blank 4]] me.<<endtimedinsert>>

@@font-size: 1.5em;And as always, I was left to pick up the pieces.@@ @@font-size:2.5em;(My nails dug deeper into my flesh. Lacerating fat and drawing blood, removing layers of dead skin.)@@ @@font-size:1.5em;Always. He wouldn't be here to fix this. No. His skill was completely destroying my sanity, and convincing me that it was my fault.@@ @@font-size:2.5em;(Blood trickled onto my nails, covering my unpainted nails with a smear of red.) @@\n\n@@font-size:1em;[[But why should I have to suffer alone?]]@@

A man and a woman, late-comers, walk unhurriedly arm-in-arm. The woman is closest to you. She is coming closer, her gaze elsewhere. She [[collides with you]].

Not sure why. The body must have been exhumed during the night shift or something. <<timedgoto "the grave beside2" 4s>>

My Rose. \n\n<<timedreplace 1.5s>><<becomes>>[[Mine.|another ghost story]]<<endtimedreplace>>

Alex's words were a bit angry - expectedly - and she was not surprised when Justin turned and ran. \n\nOnce she was dressed, [[Alex had little trouble catching up to her prey]]. \n

Like we're unwanted [[garbage]] that needs to be disposed of.

@@font-size:2em;My phone rings, from its spot in the corner. Must be Jayson. He's the only one who would be calling me at this time.\n\nI let it ring. I turn back to look at the face in the window, my nails scratching grooves into my already bloodied abdomen. Tomorrow I'd call the doctor.@@\n\n@@font-size:2.5em;[[I just want this to be over with|CallAltEnd]].@@

That special day had come. [[The day that everything changed.]]

They did not go too far, but far away enough for privacy, in a clearing where the moon was high and bright above them. It was almost tragically romantic as they began to kiss and touch. Justin was a little worried, shy even with everything that had been going on, but as the two made out it all came back to him. He reached down and began to unbutton her shorts. He paused afterwards, giving her a chance to indicate that she was not ready, or even possibly unwilling, but Alex pushed the cut-offs down with her own hand and kissed him again, deeper this time. Her tank top and underwear followed soon after, teasing him slightly about still being dressed as she put her clothes together in a pile. Justin had only ever stripped that quickly before in gym class and the prison showers, but he was excited, hot with his blood rushing, and [[had his mind set on only one thing at that moment]]-having her. She was gorgeous, so much that he almost tripped attempting to watch her and get out of his jeans at the same time.

The door opens. In the darkness there is a [[figure]]. Her clothes are red. Her mask is gold. Her throat is long.

"Ashley," says another, "go stand next to it. I bet it totally won't grab you."\n\n"Shut up," says the first girl. The others laugh. [[They move on]].

The carnival's eerie siren song has begun to draw people from the nearby town. They walk in pairs down the dirt road, huddled together, marching toward the sound of [[calliope music and laughing demons]].

Sometimes he was able to disguise himself with a friendly, smiling, human face. It was in those moments that I thought I might finally be safe. \n\nBut he was [[always there]].

[[But the rest of the school didn't think so.]]

You can feel your skin softening even as the raven pulls more of it away. In hours, or perhaps days, it will be waxy and malleable, like putty. You will rot and soften, and as gravity continues to pull at your shins, the rope will dig deeper into your neck. Perhaps, if enough time passes, your body and head will [[come apart]].

He marched to the passenger's side of Keith's car and yanked the door open. From here, Keith and Charles had a spat and I swear you'd think he was clueless. He thinks the moral here is that Charles had finally lost it.\n\nKeith goes, “you're just gonna leave it here? In the middle of nowhere?”\n\nBig Charles didn't flinch. Says, “damn right.”\n\nSo Keith [[doubled down:|He thinks the moral here is that Charles had finally lost it.]]

You try to speak, but your lips do not move. Your throat does not clench. Your lungs take no air. You are [[silent]].

The metallic and raw taste of my own blood made me ready to puncture her jugular and [[tear into her flesh]]. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe.

When my head aches from pulling at the loose hairs, I cover my head tenderly with pillows, hoping to hide from the monster outside of my window - but I can still see its face on the back of my eyelids. It's now more a part of me than ever. [[There is no separating it. I am it.]]

@@font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:3em;Want to hear another //Scary Story?//@@ \n\n@@font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:3em;[[No.|Credits]]\n[[Yes.|Story Menu]]@@\n\n

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[[Not in this lifetime.]]

@@font-size:1.5em;I thought of Jayson. Funny, handsome Jayson. I replayed our conversation in my head, the only anchor I had.@@\n\n@@font-size:2.5em;“Oh, there was something else I forgot to tell you about manananggal,” he had said earlier as I swirled my spoon in the melted ice cream of my sundae. “I once heard she could also use her tongue to [[steal people's hearts]], but that's actually another creature, similar to the manananggal, but a masculine version.”@@\n

[[Call out to someone]]\n[[Rock back and forth]]\n[[Tug at the rope]]

I got up and I stood in front of the mirror and I looked. My blood turned cold. I felt the blood drain from my face and I stood there, [[frozen in place and unable to move.]]

//Because kindness is aberrant in the world of men. Because my species daily made a case for its own wretchedness, but made a pariah of me when I ceased to kiss their feet.//\n\nThe raven chuckles between swallows of your flesh.\n\n"This I have seen," it whispers. "We pity you, you know. All of us pity [[all of you]]."

Her hand is empty.\n\nYou look up. Her fingers sprout like needles and plunge into your flesh.\n\n[[They discover a red stall.|another ghost story]]

A mother carries her toddler against her chest. It clings to her neck as she walks, turned backwards, staring past her shoulder. She moves past you without seeing you. The toddler, however, does see. Its face reddens. It begins to [[wail]].

She talked about her childhood and all the memorabilia in her room. [[But I couldn't concentrate on what she was saying]]. All I could focus on was her bed and having her in her bed, underneath me. I remember a while back Rose mentioned that purity was very important to her and her family. Pre-marital sex was frowned upon in her culture.

The two had sex in the grass under the light of the moon, drenched in the sweat of the Georgia summer, and breathing in each other as they tossed, turned, rolled, pulled, and pushed in between kisses. Justin was a little too excited, a bit rough with her and a little quicker than he had wanted it to be, even with the condom on. Justin did not admit to himself that the flashes in his mind while they were having sex were of all of the inmates who had told him how pretty he was. He also did not admit that he thought he saw shadows moving, in the corner of his eye where he couldn't see properly. [[Had anybody followed them?]] Had anybody followed him from the prison? Justin felt sweat on his hairline, and wasn't sure if it was from excitement or paranoia.

On the desk are strewn Beth's science textbook and papers -- covered with blood red splatters. It's what is [[on the wall ]]above the desk that stops your heart and chills you to the core.\n\n\n\n

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A little intimidating. Keith's team gave them a minute.\n\n<<timedgoto "coffin" 4s>>

It's getting dark out. I've just gotten home from a study group and I head to my [[room]] in the basement. It's the only place where I sometimes feel safe. \n\nSometimes. \n

The rose was elegantly placed in a vase and it looked beautiful. [[Just like my Rose]].

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You've tried your best to sneak into the room without disturbing Beth but this has gone beyond ridiculous. You need the light. You return to the entrance where there is a [[wall light switch.]]

When you open your eyes, the sun is already bright and high and shining through the window. \n\nThe exam! The time on your phone is 8:06. You have less than one hour to review Beth's notes. \n\nBeth is still in bed. You go to the desk where you hope to [[find her notes.]]\n\n

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Out of [[politeness?|hug]]

The Roommate

<<timedgoto "i scream" 2.5s>>

<<timedgoto "each thwump" 4s>>

<<timedgoto "i feel for" 4s>>

<<timedgoto "all you" 4s>>

<<timedgoto "but it would" 4s>>

<<timedgoto "just ring" 3s>>

<<timedgoto "just choose" 3s>>

She was the [[most beautiful woman]] I have ever met.

This one was told to me by my partner - maybe the only man aside from my brothers that I've been able to trust.\n\n@@font-size:1.5em;It was one of those things, you know. We met through mutual friends, became sort of friends. I was still with [[Harry]] at the time, [[you see.]]@@\n\n

<<timedgoto "and finally" 5.5s>>

...with //all// the bells & whistles, as Keith would say.\n\n<<timedgoto "So here's how it goes:" 2.5s>>

[[Except the lid doesn’t budge|blank 6]].

Sally started seeing a guy shortly after this exchange. I met him one night after school. They were drinking wine from stemless wine glasses in the kitchen, their laughing filling the house like mustard gas.\n\n"Oh, Mia, I'm glad you're here," Sally said as I walked into the kitchen, the weight of a 13-hour day on my shoulders. "I want you to meet Mark."\n\n<<timedreplace 10s>> <<becomes>>Mark and I locked eyes.<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 13s>> <<becomes>>There was something I didn't like in his eyes.<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 15s>><<becomes>>Something I knew I had felt [[@@font-size:1.5em;before.@@|before]]<<endtimedreplace>>

I work in a cemetery now, as a gravedigger.<br><br> <<timedinsert 3.5s>>Some people say it's morbid, a few are morbidly curious. Most people just don’t want to talk about.<br><br> <<gains>>It’s certainly not something we discuss at<br> [[family dinners|you know]].<<endtimedinsert>>

@@font-size:2em;I turned to look back at my phone. I didn't reply right away. I didn't really know what to say.@@ @@font-size:2.5em;But I clutched the phone tight in my hand, ready to press [[Call]] in case the thing outside my window decided to advance.@@

Eventually, you stop fitting in the space behind the drawer. The last time you think you’re trapped once you’ve finally [[wedged yourself in]] and you panic. You consider [[screaming]].

[[It couldn't be.]]

Not enough to keep me from functioning, but enough to give me a @@font-size: 1.5em;little pang of heart flutters@@ when I turn the light off and crawl into bed at night. My dog Rhea, though, always comforted me, and at night I would hang my hand over the edge of the bed so she could lick me and keep me company. I fell asleep almost every night like [[this]].\n\n\n

Up until recently, your blood was much too loud to hear a raven speaking. To hear a raven's whispers, one's blood must be [[still|you know that it won't]].

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Not that I blame her. [[I didn't listen to her.]]

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Then I realized something. \n\n<<timedreplace 1.5s>><<becomes>>[[Rose was different.]]<<endtimedreplace>>

<<timedgoto "except" 4s>>

It leans forward and looks into your right eye. Its own are black and glassy, and they reflect nothing.\n\nIt considers you for a long time, then turns its head and watches the carnival grow. For a time you watch together as the strange-smelling strange-sounding festival gathers breath and [[brings itself together]].

<<timedgoto "i push" 4s>>

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<<timedgoto "the reprieve" 4s>>

<<timedgoto "slowly" 4s>>

//We have systems in place to help <big>those</big> people. There are those bells set up above ground attached to a cord inside the coffin for exactly that purpose. If anyone //<big>really</big>// needed help, all they would have to do [[is ask|my mother shudders]].

The thing I noticed first about her was her smile. I could see it from across the party, like she had just heard the world's funniest joke and wanted to share it with the world. It stretched from ear to ear, but it wasn't too toothy. It was the kind of smile that makes you want to smile, the kind that looks like it'll serve you breakfast in bed on a Sunday morning. \n\nThat smile lit up like neon and all I wanted was to see what she was selling.\n\nYears later, I felt the same whenever I saw that smile. Each time felt new and exciting,like I was seeing it across that room for the first time.\n\nAs the days went by, I saw it less and less, and it hurt. Why wasn't she smiling? Why could she not smile at me?\n\n[[Where was I?|Walk]]

<<timedgoto "i claw" 4s>>

<<timedgoto "my breathing" 2s>>

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Now, Keith was in the break room kicking his feet up. But he says Big Charles shambled in like he'd seen a ghost.\n\n“Get in your car and follow me. [[We're gonna do one last drop-off]].”\n

[[Scammer]].\n

I never had to wait long for him to start peeling away the outer layers of his facade. The human layers. He would dig his fingers into his flesh and tear away the skin, growing out of it, @@font-size:1em;taller@@ and @@font-size:1.5em;taller@@ @@font-size:2em;until his human suit fell about him in shreds.@@ \n\nIt was then that I truly saw him, as he loomed over me. I recognized him all too well.\n\nHe was [[faceless]], except for two burning @@font-color:red;red eyes@@. \n

He got closer to her, not sure what to do. There was a moment where he almost grabbed her and ran back towards the van. Justin needed to yell for help, to call for Charlie, but something kept him there. Her words had not set well with him. This was bad, the weed was something small (in comparison at least), but what if Alex decided to press charges, especially now. It would look like he had attacked her. [[That meant a lot more jail time.]]

<<timedreplace 0.5s>><<becomes>>@@font-size: 2em; Drip.@@<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 1.5s>><<becomes>>@@font-size: 4em;Drip.@@<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 2.5s>><<becomes>>@@font-size: 6em;[[Drip.|Drip2]]@@<<endtimedreplace>>\n

<<timedgoto "but the air" 4s>>

<<timedgoto "fuck" 4s>>

My mother shuddered and changed the subject: <br><br>//It’s all just so… //<big>gauche</big>//. Let’s talk about something more pleasant, [[shall we|i dont know]]?

You know, I got a friend who just loves to tell this one story.\n\n<<timedreplace 1.5s>><<becomes>>Well...a friend-of-a-friend: Keith. He's a little thick.<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedreplace 2.5s>><<becomes>>[[So here's how it goes:]]<<endtimedreplace>>\n

The irony was lost on her. As was her pun.\n\n<<timedgoto "i work in" 4s >>

I pulled my hand up from Rhea’s calming licking, and with my heart slowly rising in my chest I swung my legs over the side of the bed and walked slowly down the hallway to the bathroom. The cold hardwood floors sent shivers up my spine, and I hurried towards the bathroom door. If only I could just [[tune it out...]]

As we entered her room, I took stock of everything. There it was. Her bed. The bed that she slept in every night in her milky white flesh with [[veins of blood]] running through them.

<<timedgoto "there was" 4s>>

@@font-size:2em;I wrap my arms around my stomach, my long finger nails lightly tapping the skin underneath my oversized T-shirt. At first I just hold myself, in a fetal position.@@ @@font-size:2.5em;But soon I start to dig my nails into the flesh. Little by little, I break the skin, feel the pinch and sting of the dirt from under my nails mixing with my blood, [[infecting me.]]@@

@@font-size:4em;The@@\n@@color:red;text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em #333;opacity:0.5;font-size:10em;Red@@\n@@font-size:7em;Ribbon@@\n\n<<timedgoto "redribbon" 3s>>\n

The air is autumn-colored and autumn-scented.\n\nPink clouds are sliding like tongues across dark orange sky.\n\nNearby, the [[carnival]] is growing.

All of a sudden I felt a sharp pain. My shoulder slammed into the steel lockers and I felt the bones shatter into a million mind-numbing tiny pieces. [[I was brought back to reality.]] A group of water polo team players shoved me against the lockers.

@@font-size:1.5em;Jayson picked me up from the train station. “You shouldn't be alone. Let's go out for a drink.”@@\n\n<<timedreplace 2s>><<becomes>>“[[Or maybe not.]] Looks like you've already had enough to drink.”<<endtimedreplace>>\n

@@font-size:1.5em;I was in the passenger side of his car, my skirt too short, my eyes glazed over as I stared at the trees rushing past us.@@ @@font-size:2em;I wondered if the fumes from his car could be toxic, if I could just close my eyes and breathe them and nothing would hurt anymore.@@\n\n@@font-size:2.5em;[[“Where do you want to go?”]] he asked me.@@\n

@@font-size:1.5em;My phone buzzed, the usually harsh vibration softened by my blankets. Daring to take my eyes away from the face, I checked my [[message]].@@

@@font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:3em;Which@@ @@color:#CC9900;text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em #333;opacity:0.5;font-size:4em;Scary Story@@ @@font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:3em;do you want to hear?@@ \n\n[[The one about the bathroom stall, told by Porpentine.|stall]]\n[[The one about Oliver and Rose, told by Vicky He.|oli1]]\n[[The one about the basement, told by John R.|basementstart]]\n[[The one about the monsters under the bed, told by Meghan.|Under]]\n[[The one about the Black Caddillac, told by Jericho Bull.|black cadi]]\n[[The one about the demon and the doll told by Ashley.|DemonDoll]]\n[[The one about the slit-mouth woman, told by Carli Velocci.|StartCarli]]\n[[The one about the carnival, told by Kitty Horrorshow.|Start 2]]\n[[The one about being released from prison, told by Stephen Wilds.|releasestart]]\n[[The one about being buried alive, told by Aisley.|startgravebusiness]]\n[[The one about the roommate, told by Cathleen Macdonald.|Start 3]]\n[[The one about the dripping, told by Sarah.|dripdripdrip]]\n[[The one about the magician and manananggal, told by Kira.|mana2]]\n\n\n

“Stop it… stop. I'm going to keep my hand here until you listen to me.” She moved her hand so that the boy could breathe through his nose, but still could not cry for help. “I know my acting is bad, but shit, dude.” She honestly looked a little hurt. “Why did you freak out and bash my skull in, huh?” \n\nAlex moved her other hand to the top of Justin's head, getting much closer to his face.\n\n“[[How would you like it if I did that shit to you?]] You probably wouldn't like it would you, since you'd just die like a little shit, am I right?” \n

“Mia, I wonder if you should come home? There’s a long weekend coming up.”\n \n<<timedreplace 3s>> <<becomes>>I could take a hint.<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedgoto "next" 5s>>

Late night. Empty building. You didn't lock the door. You could slide the lock shut, but you know it would click. That tiny sound seemed unbearable in this silence.\n\nEverything [[outside|outside1]] the stall feels much darker. Like the stall is floating through the void.

You slide your hand across the desk to a spot where you expect to find the lamp. \n\nIt's not there. \n\nYou sweep your hand across the desk in search of the lamp but your hand encounters only strewn papers and books. How odd. It's not Beth's habit to leave a messy desk.\n\nYour toe bumps up against something on the floor. \n\n[[The lamp!]]\n\n

One day after school, I saw Rose at her locker, packing up her belongings. I mustered up the courage and went up to her to introduce myself. When I approached her, she instantly hung her head down low, as if expecting me to deliver a hateful comment at her. That made me feel weird. I've never felt that kind of feeling before. I felt like someone had squeezed my heart and stabbed a dull blade in it. [[Why would a beautiful girl like Rose need to be afraid?]]

//[[No - Its worth mentioning I puked twice that first day. The first time, it was because I knew how much trouble I was in.|proceed1]]//

Big Charles unfurled the contract and saw //the [[same name]]// as the dearly departed.

As I walked towards the bathroom, I stopped short. I could swear I saw the shower curtain move ever so slightly. Or was it my imagination? I could feel a @@font-size:1.5em;tightness@@ rising in my throat, and I swallowed hard. I lunged for the light, flicked it on and pulled back the curtain ... <<timedreplace 10s>><<becomes>>but nothing.<<endtimedreplace>><<timedreplace 11s>><<becomes>> I exhaled heavily, and spun to tighten the sink faucets. I gave them a [[hard turn]].<<endtimedreplace>>

//“Please help me I am behind the heavy metal door. If you find this note and hear screaming it is not a prank. Please help me.” Is taped to the inside cover.//\n\n@@font-size:2em;[[The diary ends there.|another ghost story]]@@

//The room that I'm in is 30 steps long and 20 steps wide. I'm hoping my strides are roughly even. On the opposite wall I found three jars filled with old, dirty water. I took a sip. It smelled like they had it near varnish. I didn't get sick from drinking it so I considered them safe. [[But that's all I have.|proceed2]] Three plastic jars of water, a notebook and a pencil. The grand inventory.//

//When I was taken I was walking home from work. Short day because there was a long weekend coming up. My boss decided it was time to cut the day short and everyone enjoy their weekend. It was rare of him to think about anything but money so I seized the carp and took off.\n\nOn the way home, a rock or something hit me in the back of the head. It caused me to lose my balance. As soon as I hit the ground, I felt hands close around me, lift me up and throw me into a van. The door slammed shut. A bag went over my head. Handcuffs click. I kicked and screamed for as long as I could. Whoever grabbed me kept hitting me. I started to cry. I knew there was no way I was getting out. I knew this would infuriate them. I didn't give a shit. If I'm going to be murdered I want to do so with as much difficulty for the fuck who has that in their plans. [[They hit me in the head until I blacked out again.|No3]]//\n

//Twenty steps to the left of point of contact. Empty except for the wall. Going to the right after ten steps I felt wood. I could smell the wood first. It was somewhat new. Maybe a couple months old at best. Feeling around it told me it was stairs. [[I puked.|No2]]//

//It's a basement. Or at least underground. The dampness is earth. [[It's not just any wet basement.|No1]]//

I don't remember what happened next. I can't remember how I left her house and went back to my own room. It was as if my brain refused to acknowledge what had happened. It blocked out all the events that occurred. [[Sheer blackout.]]

You remove your hand from the desk and take a step forward. You might make it quietly to the bed after all. You take another step and suddenly a stabbing pain in the sole of your foot makes you suck in a convulsive breath to stiffle a whimper.\n\nYou lift your foot and reach down to pull a shard of glass from it. Glass!? Why is glass on the floor?\n\nYou carefully lower your foot to the floor but you don't put your weight on it because you can feel more broken glass.\n\nYou [[reach for the desk light]].\n\n\n\n\n

So I stay quiet. Each night she comes to my bed, and continues to prick my body. I know this won't go on forever. [[I know there will be a night when she only has one last prick to perform]], and that will be it.

A trio of teenaged boys see you and groan aloud. Then they begin to laugh and joke. One of them holds up a cell phone while another steps beside you, puts an arm around your waist (not touching) and intimates licking you. There is a flash. They laugh again and [[move on]].

I woke up the next day. I felt weird. Something wasn't right. There was a huge, ugly rash on my arm. Upon closer inspection, I realized that my arm was covered in tiny [[pinholes]].

@@font-size:1.5em;We ended up going for ice cream. He got crepes and I got a sundae, somehow hoping that the caramel sauce would solidify in my arteries, rotting me from the inside out.@@\n\n@@font-size:2em;“Did I ever tell you about [[manananggal]]?” he said, out of nowhere.@@\n

Anonymous

The Magician and Mananaggal

@@font-size:1.5em;That night, he dropped me off at my home and I crawled into bed around 2 am. I wasn't sleeping. My heart was beating too fast. It hurt.@@ @@font-size:2em;[[Everything hurt.]]@@

I met Rose after school in the courtyard and together we walked toward her house. As I entered her house, I noticed how neat and tidy everything was. All the furniture was polished and dusted and there was not a speck of dust to be seen. The marble counters in her kitchen sparkled like a crystal reflecting in the bright sun. Her house was [[immaculate]].

I'm out of air. My lungs turn into claws and they're [[tearing|blank 17]] their way through my chest.

As we climbed up the stairs into her bedroom, my heart started racing. Her bedroom. That was where she slept every night. Perhaps naked. The sheer thought of Rose being naked made me weak. I could feel the blood rush down to my groins. I felt the single droplet of sweat roll down my bronzed temple. [[I've never felt this way before.]] The anticipation of what was going to happen next made my head cloud.

@@font-size:1em;I left him, and I was on the train, heading home.@@ @@font-size:1.5em;With each heartbeat, it felt like infected blood was being pumped throughout my system, sickening me, worsening me, [[destroying me completely]].@@

@@font-color:Blue;font-size:4em;The@@ \n@@font-color:Blue;text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em #333;opacity:0.5;font-size:6em;Stall@@\n\n<<timedgoto "stall" 4s>>

The raven watches from atop your shoulder as people file past. They laugh, or they say nothing, or they shout. Most of them do not look at you.\n\n[[Some do.]]

@@font-size:4em;(yes, that one).@@\n\n<<timedgoto "mana2" 1.5s>>

Your toe bumps up against the lamp laying on the floor. Your foot finds what feels like a jagged bulb stub in the lamp's socket. You conclude the lamp has fallen and the bulb has smashed, scattering broken glass.\n\nYou can feel the blood sticky on the sole of your foot. Now your best option is to go back and turn on the wall light switch by the door. Of course this means you'll forfeit Beth's study notes.\n\nOr, it might seem crazy at this point but you could still get those study notes if you aim for your bed in the dark. After all, you're just about there.\n\n[[Turn on the room light]] or risk the gauntlet of glass and make those last few steps [[to your bed]].

So loudly, so uncontrollably that I'm sure I must be turning inside out. I do this for an eternity. I can’t remember what it was like to ever not be screaming.<br><br><<timedinsert 6s>> But the people up there don't notice.<br> The world keeps [[falling|blank 12]] in on me.<<endtimedinsert>>

(Surprise! I bet you saw that coming. Or maybe you didn’t and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. Some [[monsters]] propagate themselves in strange ways.)

I don't know how old I was when the [[demon]] started coming to visit me, but I can't remember a time when he wasn't there.

I had gotten out of work late today, although this wasn't anything unusual. Walking home from the train station way past dark was sort of a tradition in my line of work. I didn't mind though. At this time of night there weren't any [[children|Children]] around to bother me, to grab at the ankles of my pants or make nonsense faces.

@@font-size:3em;I was leaving Harry, with scars on my stomach and a heart so broken it felt like I was suffering from septic shock - just mentally, rather than physically.@@ @@font-size:1.5em;Poisoned from the inside, with no coherent way of knowing how to [[heal]] myself.@@

@@font-size:1.5em;The@@ \n@@font-size:7em;Monster@@ @@font-size:1.5em;under the@@ \n@@text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em #333;opacity:0.5;font-size:6em;Bed@@ \n\n<<timedgoto "Under" 4s>>

@@font-size:7em;drip@@ \n@@font-size:8em;drip@@ \n@@text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em #333;opacity:0.5;font-size:9em;drip@@ \n\n\n<<timedgoto "dripdripdrip" 4s>>

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Everything is dark now. You can't see yourself.\n\nAfter a very long time of listening in the silence, you pull your underwear back on and leave the stall, slowly crawling across the floor, toward the bathroom [[door]].

//(Is it worth remembering how I got here? [[Yes|Yes3]]/[[No|No3]])//

Your legs refuse to move. Your weight does not shift, despite your attempt to sway. A small breeze turns you gently in place, but otherwise, you are [[still|silent]].

I didn't want to be at school. I didn't want to face those bullies. [[But one day, a miracle happened]]. Maybe it was God's way of rewarding me for not eating the last Snicker's bar that was tucked away in my drawer at home.

Which is why the sales team stumbled out the door when an arresting Figure took interest in that particular car.That morning, what seemed to be a [[coffin]] on wheels glided in from nowhere, a mirage with aspirations of tangibility.

The woman continued to hold out her hand, which trembled slightly as she stretched it. I moved over on the bench, getting away from her inch by inch, but she continued to shuffle over, mumbling and groaning something about beauty or beans or beets... I couldn't tell. She smelled too terrible and it was distracting. \n\nMy exhaustion was not enough to keep me from having to listen to this crone. \n\nMy knees creaked as I stood up and my back cracked. I looked at the woman, illuminated like a star under the streetlamp, one more time as I walked away. As her eyes narrowed and her hand lowered, I could swear that she was smiling [[under that mask|The end 1]]. \n\n

I was just a few blocks from my apartment when my head started pounding. I rubbed the bridge of my nose but the pain was too unbearable to stand. I saw a bench on the corner, underneath a streetlamp, and I wanted to stop and get some rest. I dropped my suitcase on the ground and sat down, my legs continuing to feel heavy. \n\nJust heavy enough to keep me there long enough for a homeless woman to approach me.\n\nMy fucking luck. \n\nDidn't want to look at her. She was hideous. Her face was covered in scarring, and I couldn't tell underneath it all if she was 20 or 1,000. Her hands were also horribly maimed, cracked and bent at strange angles and of course, she reached them out to me. \n\nAs her hands came closer, she started mumbling, although I couldn't tell if she was asking for money or for sex with that surgical mask on her face.\n\n[[Was it flu season already|Sickness]]?

You can’t. You’ve learned by now not to engage with monsters. [[Not even to say no.|hug]]

@@font-family:Rockwell Extra Bold;font-size:1.5em;The@@ \n@@font-family:Rockwell Extra Bold;font-size:4em;Demon@@ @@font-family:Rockwell Extra Bold;font-size:1.5em;and the@@ \n@@font-family:Rockwell Extra Bold;text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em #333;opacity:0.5;font-size:7em;Doll@@ \n\n\n<<timedgoto "DemonDoll" 4s>>

Winter brought a full lot-of unsold parcel. And an empty lobby, if not for a lone Figure...\n \n<<timedreplace 4s>><<becomes>>Clack. Clack. Clack.<<endtimedreplace>> \n\n<<timedreplace 6s>><<becomes>>[[Keith's a sucker for suspense.]]<<endtimedreplace>>

The more she struggled to get free, the more excitement came over me. For some reason, seeing her withering underneath me like a helpless rag doll turned me on even more. My ears were ringing from the rush of blood to my head. Then something caught my attention. I glanced up and saw a [[single stem of red rose]] on her nightstand.

Yes, you. The you on the [[other side of the screen.|two monsters]]

Then I tasted blood. [[My own blood.]]

They treated her like an outsider. She was different. She wasn't White. They made fun of her and teased her. They called her names like Ching Chang Chong. They did everything they could to make her feel unwelcomed. [[They wanted her to feel like an outsider who didn't belong]]. They made her feel exactly how they made me feel.

@@font-size:1.5em;This time, I'm determined not to look away. I stare at its face, my arms protectively guarding around my waist, my hands curled into fists.@@ @@font-size:3em;[[I look at it.]]@@

@@font-size: 2em; Here the pages are smeared with something and I can't read them at all@@\n\n//THE DOOR\n\nIt has no seams except around the edges and only the bottom has a gap I can feel.\n\nI've resisted writing in this for as long as I can. I'm running low on pages. I cry once a waking period. When I resist writing, I talk to myself. I answer myself. Sometimes we argue.\nSometimes I manage to win.\nWe've decided our best odds lie with writing a note for help and pushing it under the door. There is a problem with that, if I do it I will be out of paper. I clutch you when I fall asleep. I think of you when I explore my cell, when I am emptying myself in the far end.\nYou are stable and sure. Unwavering. You accept my weaknesses my thoughts. Without you I fear I will become unglued. My body is unfamiliar to me now. You and I are my only surety. I long for your voice when we are apart.\n\nIts time I took a chance, I will write a plea for help, push it under the slot and scream for help.\n\nSay goodbye to the last page.\n\nLook at inside cover? [[Yes?|Yes5]]/[[No?|No5]])// \n

//roll call:\n\nI cried until my eyes and face hurt. [[Check, check]]//\n

What reminds you, so you’ll remember this later? \n\nA song, played on records brought out from flaking boxes. From that night or a night like it. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and you try to match the shape and the awful weight on you at night. But more than one person matches the shape and the weight and you don’t know which one it was. Scary monster. Scary [[monsters]]. \n

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The lamp is laying on its side on the floor and with your foot you can feel a jagged bulb stub in the lamp's socket. You conclude the lamp has fallen and the bulb has smashed, scattering broken glass.\n\nYou can feel the blood sticky on the sole of your foot. Now your best option is to go back and turn on the light switch by the door. Of course you'll forfeit Beth's study notes.\n\nOr, it might seem crazy at this point but you could still get those study notes if you aim for your bed in the dark. After all, you're just about there.\n\n[[Turn on the room light]] or risk the gauntlet of glass and make those last few steps [[to your bed]]. \n\n

I nervously whispered, “Hi, I'm Oliver.” She looked up at me. She looked…surprised. I heard a small gasp, which was quickly replace by a heavy sigh of relief. She smiled at me and said, [[“Hi, I'm Rose.”]]

I push harder at the lid and my arms give out.<br> <<timedinsert 2.5s>>I try with my legs but nothing is working.<br> <<gains>>I’m [[not strong enough|blank 8]] to save myself.<<endtimedinsert>>

@@font-size:2.5em;My Rose. My Rose. My Rose. My Rose.@@ \n@@font-size:4em;[[She was mine, and she would always be just mine.]]@@