This is the first short story that I created in almost four years. In that time, my poetry has being outgrowing the amount of my stories. The real-time tale that inspired the story is quite amusing. Whereas the moment after that event, I began writing the first two pages. This story is unlike any other that I wrote. Since age ten I’ve been reading classical literature and I’ve decided to put this in an elder form of English, and I’m only seventeen. This story is my groundbreaking one, a horror/suspense short story, unlike any of my mystery ones. But truly, if anyone thinks of it, all genres are interconnected into mystery. I hope the reader enjoys, for as all that I’ve shown are amazed at how well it is written. It is copyrighted so no stealing. Even though that it may look REALLY long, it is only fourteen pages long. I also did the cover art which took me just about three hours to entirely. Comments are greatly taken.
Something startled me in my sleep during the night. There was a storm outside and the thunder rumbled from the deep midnight environment. I slowly turned my head as Rose slept next to me, as always, I felt a small glimpse of happiness with her. But the storm wasn’t the only thing that startled me.
A very low whisper was among my ears. I didn’t know who the speakers were; it was multiple voices saying the same thing, over and over again. So I decided to investigate. I slowly got dressed, lit my lamp and walked outside into the corridor. The whispering became clearer with every step I’ve taken. I’ve never forgotten what the recite of the words were:
“Cut off your head, put it in a basket and put the rest in a casket”
The whispering itself caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. Yet I walked on, my footsteps echoed, the whole of the noise of my steps sounded like a giant on the floorboards. The echo seemed to go on and on in the dark. It startled me when Corey and Jack slowly stepped out of their rooms.
“What is that noise?” said Jack.
“I don’t know” I said.
Corey had a look of puzzlement as Jack grabbed hold of the banister. I took hold of it ahead of him. I traced it to about five or six feet when my hand came across something that was rough and dry, a rope. What happened next only told me what I was dealing with. From this point and for the rest of my life, I regret coming to this cursed sanctum of hell.
A skeletal hand snatched up at Jack’s neck. In total shock, Jack was speechless. Another hand came out of the darkness of the stairs and took hold of his forehead. One hand jerked left and the other to the right and Jack’s head was twisted ninety degrees to the left. We heard his neck bones break as he was then thrown from the second floor, down the stairs, his body tumbled. The darkness of the stairs was replaced by a fried corpse who hissed as his skeletal body of burnt flesh gave him the air of a zombie. Yet his skin was in patches and he was bleeding. In some places where there was no skin, the bones clearly showed.
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