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Scary Stroies, Poems, etc.

Celeste_N. posted this thread...
Feb. 15, 2012 at 11:11 am

So...im in love with horror and i'd like to hear some really good ones!!!
Rules: Make it creepy, scary....make me want to ask for more of your story...
Prizes: Its A Surprise!!!!!!!

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Feb. 15, 2012 at 1:03 pm

Red eyes. I remembered those red eyes as I stepped into the circus tent. Lions with their tawny eyes stared at us like we were the main attraction. A snake man smiled a toothy grin at me and I pulled Lizzie closer to my side. A clown chuckled as we passed, and I could not stop the shivers as I gazed at his sharp, wolf like teeth.  

"The better to eat you with, my dearest."  

I swiveled my head at an insane speed and I caught myself gazing into those red eyes that have tortured me for the last week.

  My mystery man.  
"You," I cried out as the boy smiled at me. "What are YOU doing here?" He glanced at the grinning clown, who eyed me hungrily. A shiver raced through my body and I took a step away. Something felt so wrong here.  



  He cocked his head and just stared at me with those mesmerizing eyes. I truly felt like my energy was being sucked in by those eyes, because I could not move my muscles.    

"You came," his sweet masculine voice rumbled in my ear and I felt my knees buckle. "I thought you would not come."  

Lizzie was looking at the boy in awe, as my parents paled and reached out to pull me away. "Cam," Dad warned as Vince's fingers brushed my cheek in a loving gesture. "Step away from that boy, sweetheart."  

"D-Dad..." I barely managed to choke out as I got lost in the boy's dark red eyes. I couldn’t think; I couldn’t speak. All I could do was get absorbed into those dark red pools. "I-I-"

  I broke away from the trance and glanced back at my parents. I nodded obediently, but when I turned back, I was met with an empty hallway littered with black rose petals.


"Ladies and gentlemen, Boys and girls; Welcome to the Circus of Horror, where nothing is what it seems to be," the boy with the red eyes chuckled into the microphone in his hands. "My name... is Vince Smith. And I will be your guide for this evening." A mysterious fire blazed in his eyes as he whispered those words into the microphone. My breath hitched in my throat as I leaned forward in my seat, hoping to catch his next words. The very blood in my veins frosted over as Vince’s eyes caught mine and a malicious smile reached his lips.

  "You'll never want to leave after this show, crowd."  

Before I knew what was happening, the clown lunged from the darkness and dragged my father by the back of his collar. I screamed as the sound of ripping filled the air and my mother cried out in agony. I slowly whirled around, afraid of what I would see, as I clutched onto Lizzie- poor girl was crying- and shoved her behind me.

  The snake man had my mother's throat in his grasp. Crushing her windpipe. I screamed and lunged at my mother as Lizzie curled up in a ball, slapped her palms over her ears and began humming “Jesus Loves Me”.

  "Let my mom go," I shrieked as the snake man’s black eyes glowed maliciously. The man licked his lips and I screamed as his fist closed on my mother's throat.  

Eyes wide, I stepped away from the man in fear, grasping for Lizzie as the man licked my mother’s blood off his fingers. Vince was staring at me with bright red eyes shining with madness as his spidery fingers tampered with the lions' cages.  

Oh. That doesn't look good.

  "Run away, little bunny," he chuckled darkly as he snapped the chain in half, the creaking door slowly opening. I saw the glow of yellow eyes in the shadows before I heard their monstrous roars in my ears. The blood was rushing to my head and adrenaline had already shot through my veins.  

All I knew was that Lizzie was by my side and that I had to protect her.  

"Run Lizzie," I screamed as I shoved my sister toward the door. "Run, and don't look back!!"  

I was relieved to say that Lizzie made it out of that ugly place.

  I wish I could have said the same for me.  

"Got you, little bunny," Vince chuckled in my ear as his arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me back into the circus tent.  

"Oh, little bunny. Your heart is on overdrive. Are you afraid?"  

His face was buried into the crook of my neck and I gritted my teeth together in an attempt to stop myself from yelling curse words at Vince. Secretly, I really liked his warm breath fanning on my neck, sending little shivers of delight through my body.

  If he had been any normal guy, I would have loved to fall in love with him.  


  I screamed as the lions made a circle around us and watched with intelligence in their tawny eyes.  

"Get off," I yelled irately as we melted into the shadows. "What do you want from me?!"

  His red eyes bore into me and I lost my breath at the wonder of his eyes.

  I was now a prisoner to him, all because I fell into those beautiful eyes.

  "Your love, little bunny."


  He was back. Back to take me away. Back to make me his little circus act. 

“Why are you back," I shrieked as I backed into a corner. I had to get away! I couldn't let him take m back. Not back to the circus. "Why?! Why do you keep coming back for me? Why!? I'm just a girl!"   

“Cam!" The detective gave me a puzzled look before placing his hand on my shoulder- I flinched and curled up into a ball. "It’s alright, Cam! He can’t get in! That’s bulletproof glass! It’s bulletproof glass-”

  The audible 'Smash' reached my ears and I bursted into tears. My sanity was hanging by a thread; I couldn't go back to the circus.

  The lights flickered for a moment as a dark shadow broke into the room. I muffled a scream and curled into a ball, rocking back in forth on my feet while crying hysterically. The detective whipped out his gun and pointed it at the shadow just as the lights completely shut off.  

I was all alone, my breath deep as I struggled to control my heart race. Tears littered the floor as I crawled in the direction of the interrogation table, whimpering softly as the sound of a fight breaking out around me reached my ears. A sharp object whizzed past me and scraped my cheek, drawing blood, but I ignored it and rolled under the table. The sound of a grunt reached my ears and my stomach rolled over. 

Silence followed, and the sounds I could hear were my harsh panting noises paired with my racing heart beat. 

I let out a soft cry; I could hear the sound of stabbing and flesh ripping. 

“M-Mr. Detective, sir,” I whimpered, my eyes full of fear. I blinked back the tears and rolled to my hands and knees, my eyes squinted as I tried to see through the blanket of darkness. “Detective? Where are you?” 

My small, weak voice was lost in the darkness. As I crawled my way from underneath the table, something wrapped around my ankle and jerked me back. I grunted as I collided into something solid and hesitantly, I looked up. 

"No." I whimpered as a cold hand clamped over my mouth, stopping me from screaming. My legs flailed around as I hysterically began to babble; I knew those eyes. Those eyes were my downfall. Those eyes were my weakness. Those eyes were my torture. 

Those eyes belonged to the demon I was slowly falling for.

“Let go, Vince! Why? Why,” I sobbed as a hand gently caressed my wet cheeks and a thumb wiped the trail of tears away. “Stop. Stop. Just leave me alone.”

“I can’t,” his musical voice replied as he leaned over me and pressed his soft- I couldn't help but suppress a shudder- lips against my forehead. “I love you too much, little Cam. Nothing and no one will stop me from making you MINE."

I opened my mouth to scream, but it died in my throat as his mouth covered my bloodied lips in a bittersweet kiss.


  A piercing scream filled the room before the lights flickered back on. In the corner of the room, slouched over and bloody, was the detective. His blank eyes stared into nothingness as blood oozed from the bite marks on his face and the gaping hole in his chest and stomach. His organs were slipping out onto the floor, painting the floor a bright crimson.  

But the girl was gone.  

All that was left was a simple pink bow, sitting on the metal table beside a black rose, both with red splatters on the inky petals and silky satin.

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readaholic replied...
Feb. 15, 2012 at 7:06 pm

((still love it snowflake. And as you did the same thing for this contest, so shall i. I would like to enter 'the selected', which is already published.))

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Celeste_N. replied...
Feb. 17, 2012 at 10:17 am

go ahead!!! i'd love to read anything you submit!!

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TheDarkCryLove replied...
Oct. 8, 2012 at 8:51 am

Blood Red Lips:

waking up
I wish I never
It is cold
I am lonely
Please help me
A girl
In the room with me
Her eyes bandaged
Trickle down her face
Her lips
Her lips are blood red
The room is empty
Just me and her
One door
A padded cell
What is wrong with me?
Noises in the night
Groans, moans
Sound of something
Everything has an
Its dark
there is nothing
am I blind?
Please help me
Falling asleep
I wake up
So hungry
Where is my food?
Look at my hand
A finger is missing
A thumb too
Stitched neatly
The girl
With the bandage on her eyes
Pulls a wicked smile
With her blood red lips
a single drip
and i scream...


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Novelist123 replied...
Oct. 26, 2012 at 6:47 pm

I'd like to enter in "Another Overflowing Glass", based off a story created by Edgar Allen Poe

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SparksFlyWithMe replied...
Oct. 29, 2012 at 11:21 am

She walked down the street. A cold November wind blew some reddish gold oak leaves down at the tattered sneakers that adorned her thin, tiny feet. She shivered and wrapped her gangly arms around her frail, thinly clad, body. Her already pale face was even paler than usual.

Whenever her large brown eyes looked behind her, she saw a shadow that was too skinny to be a tree, but moving way too fast out of sight to be her own. The girl shuddered again and wished her mousy brown hair was longer so it could cover the hairs standing up at the back of her neck.

“Millicent……” a voice whistled past her ear. She whirled around, her eyes wide in fright.

“Who are you? What do you want?” she whispered back.

“I want you…..I am the thing that can do make you feel things you never felt before….” The voice was thick and deep, and had a hint of evil in it.

“No! I just want to feel like a normal human being!” She began to cry and tried to run, but tripped over a log and fell to the side of the road. Millicent felt her wrist snap and she howled in pain. Her anguished cry was cut off by a tree branch slapping her face. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she slumped down, still breathing, but seeing nothing.

The owner of the voice came closer and lifted her tenderly over his muscular, leather clad shoulder. He carried her deeper in to the woods, annoyed that her breathing was spasmodic and uneven, which made him uncomfortable. Finally, they reached a small clearing and he put her on a stump, waiting patiently for her to wake up.

                               *                 *               *

Millicent was aware of pain before anything. She opened her eyes and prayed that this was a dream. The man smiled at her. “You are finally up. I’ve been waiting,” he told her. She whimpered and tried to move away from him, but he grabbed her and pulled her towards him. He slapped her. “You behave, pet. Millicent, remember that you are mine.” She burst into tears.

“Let me go, please! Why me?” she sobbed.

“Because you where the one who broke my brother’s heart,” he told her in satisfaction. Millicent’s face turned pure white and she studied the face of her captor in tormented shame.


“Yes, me. I’m Jack’s brother, Leon.” Millicent fainted in horror, and Leon waited for her to wake up again so he could get revenge on his brother for falling in love with the most strange and quiet girl in town when he could have had his share of cheerleaders.

Leon smiled at the thought of revenge, his slightly pointed, crooked teeth giving him an almost feral look to his handsomely tanned features. His green eyes didn’t quite have the smile, though. He ran his hands through his black hair. Leon was not going to hurt Millicent….if he could help it, anyways. Revenge was stronger than his feelings for the girl, which is why he would have no qualms with showing her to his brother-dead.

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Oct. 30, 2012 at 6:08 pm


The Midnight Rower


The campfire crackled a vibrant gold, flickering beneath the light of the crescent moon. Mark sat across from me, illustrating another of his fantastical tales of terrifying creatures that stalked the night, and merfolk hiding in the ocean, dragging unprepared fishing boats down into the depths of the sea. I was a biology teacher living in Boston. I didn’t believe in fairy tales.

Mark reached over the fire and tapped my shoulder. I jumped, and he burst into laughter. “A little nervous, are we, Adalene? Well, let’s add to that.”

I snorted disbelievingly. “Like a little ghost story is going to scare either of us? Be realistic.”

But Mark ignored me, instead drifting once again into the realms of the supernatural. “There is an old legend. And old, old legend, gathered here at this very lake,” he narrated with fluid hand gestures that, to be perfectly frank, did not emphasize his words how he expected them to. “The Midnight Rower.”

I raised one eyebrow. “And who might that be?”

Mark smiled eerily. “See, that’s the thing. We don’t know who, or even what is the Midnight Rower.” He should have known that grammatical errors in his sentences would not spark fear in the warm glow of our fire. “It just is. It stands on its boat made of the twisted branches of the old willow tree down Marbury Bend. His paddle is the embalmed paw of a bear, and he rows this lake through the night, snatching the unsuspecting off of remote shorelines. And once you’re snatched, then you are the Rower.”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “This sounds like a children’s game.”

“It is spotted only at precisely midnight,” he continued, disregarding my comment. “On nights like this one.”

I gaped. “You want to see the Midnight Rower? It doesn’t exist.”
“It does!” he insisted forcefully. “And I am going to catch it!”

I shook my head. “You’re insane.”

“It exists,” he snarled. “And you just watch me come back with the Rower in my net. And when I catch it, then you’ll be sorry.”

I couldn’t put up with another minute of arguing with Mark over something so pointless, so unbelievably ridiculous.“Fine,” I snapped. “You go sit by the lake until until your lips turn blue, waiting for a mythical creature to show itself to you. I don’t care. I’m going to bed.” I doused the fire with my water bottle and stormed into the cabin. Mark’s cabin.

Is he right? I asked myself once I was snuggled in the warm blanket of the guest bed. Am I cruel to let him sit out there alone? But I dismissed my guilt and slipped into a troubled sleep.

The next morning, I tugged a sweater over my head and went outside to find Mark. I was looking forward to the opportunity to tell him, “I told you so,” and I repeated the words over in my head. But when I neared the lakeside, Mark was nowhere to be seen.

“Mark!” I called. No answer. The morning mist was thick around the lake. It encircled the trees, an impenetrable fog, socking me in along the shoreline. “Mark!” That was when I saw it, bobbing against the sandy pebbles that had been smoothed by eons of lake water. Mark’s baseball cap. I picked it up and brushed the sand off of it. “Mark!” I called a third time. But without a reply, the next people I called were the police.
A year passed. Mark was never found. I carried on with my life, but people could tell I was grieving. Either that, or I was cowering. I couldn’t tell which. I went up to the lake again, just for the sake of old memories. I wanted to settle my mind; even Mark’s body in a coffin would have put me at rest. Anything to explain that night. The sunset was beautiful, reflected off the deep blue alpine water. I stood on the shore, watching the trees turn to silhouettes in the impending darkness.

Then I spotted a familiar figure brushing the water, about half way across the lake. “Mark!” I shouted gleefully. The crack in my voice revealed my shock. The figure drifted a bit closer. It was Mark; it had the same brown eyes and choppy dark hair. But the eyes were more vengeful, hungry, raging at me, his hair intertwined with algae. And he was floating. Floating on a boat made of the twisted branches of a willow tree, with a stiff, embalmed bear paw in his hand.

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