short horror stories with a twist

“Yes. ""I'm sorry, but there is no physical reason for why you occasionally lose control of your hands. They stopped at the small mound of earth, marked by the roughly-carved cross, where the grass was just now beginning to green. I’m sorry for this breach of courtesy, but you have to believe that I don’t want to be a nuisance to you.

He quickly discovered that, through the influence of her mother, she was quite well read. I don’t want any visitors—imaginary or otherwise. “You have a very nice little farm here,” said Lynn. “You want to talk? 26 People Reveal The Scary Stories That Still Make Their Stomachs Twist. They didn't answer again. Around the table, the other portraits looked on as well: Charles Dickens, Charlotte Bronte, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Franz Kafka, Walt Whitman, and Oscar Wilde. Anything that takes people "before their time" as they say.The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Her desperate crying calms to a series of sobs and hiccoughs, her small body shuddering against mine in fear. It doesn't take long before the pounding gives way to splintering and the sound of shattering wood.They're in the house.No more than a moment or two passes before the door to the bedroom starts shuddering.

Weatherby, all of your tests have come back negative and my examination shows nothing abnormal. But if you knew this, then why didn’t you tell me?”, “I didn’t know, Tom.

I force drops of blood to trickle out my nose, but the boys below don’t notice. Then it's my turn. Yep,” he concluded, “Crazy.” He spoke, “Well, that’s a good thing. Where did you put her? I shut the door behind me like I'm supposed to. I’m convinced now that she blamed herself for your death.

There,” Tom lifted his hand and pointed towards the west wall of the house. Silent. The people of Winthrop were friendly, often bringing over freshly baked pastries or inviting me over for dinner. It’s nice to meet you, Tom,” she responded, her dimpled smile returning. It’s too much.

13. Besides,” echoed the boy deep within, “it will be nice to talk to someone who actually talks back—even if it’s a figment of my own imagination come to life.”, Tom cracked the door and looked at the young woman. He tried not to see the kitchen through eyes still charged with remembrance—tried and failed. Closing his eyes tight, he struggled to take control.

Lynn stood on the porch for about thirty minutes before going away, knocking repeatedly. But we had smoke bombs. “I am here; I will be with you. His eyebrows came together, his face darkened, and his voice came low and quiet, “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”.

Outside in the afternoon sun, fidgeting and biting her lip, stood the woman who had appeared in his living room months before. "I thought this was a suicide support group! "Welcome""Who are you? Two days later, it happened: Lynn knocked again. I'm only here to find the idiot, because there's almost always an idiot.This support group is pretty typical. That’s been my choice.” Tom’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. As Tom turned his attention back to the locket, he began to change; the age began to melt away from his hands, the wall around his spirit began to crumble, and his grief began to fade. What if you were the one who died that day, not her?”, “But I woke up, and they were all gone.

Forty years is just too much.”, Lynn reached over and lifted his chin so that his eyes looked into hers. I never believed any of this", I uttered "Is that why I am here? I watched as my soon to be father-in-law held his daughter's hand as he walked down the aisle.

I'll try anything at this point. Mom turned this short story into an EPIC end.

The next day, I made a list of all the names and dates. The area of was thrice as long as wide, with hardwood floors. In his mind’s eye, he could see the lone cottonwood tree standing on a hill. 16. You didn’t,” was Lynn’s simple reply. After all, if she had not been hiding in the barn, you never would have dropped the match. He’d messed it up; he was mad, but he hadn’t wanted her to leave. Question: Is Tom a ghost in the story "Two"? wayseeker (author) from Colorado on July 04, 2011: Thanks, Binaya. My turn.

"Short and sweet, no blubbering. So really, insanity isn't doing something repeatedly and expecting different results. The old house's floorboards creak beneath their sneakers.Only half an hour until midnight, so I have to work fast. Our generation had prepared, with almost obsessive focus, for this monster. Has its tongue rested there, throbbing slightly as if savoring the moment? No. I followed a moment after.He hadn't hit anyone yet. "Please, I did what you asked. Cradling my four-year-old daughter in my arms, all I could do was listen as the screaming outside the house got louder and louder, interspersed with sounds of violence and horrible, horrible wet thuds and the unmistakable echo of muscle and sinew resisting the force that was slowly tearing them apart.It started just three days ago. I just stayed there, frozen, feet still in the bushes I was pruning, looking into my home. He closed his hand around the locket, squeezed it, and returned it to Lynn. If you sit back down and enjoy the ceremony, maybe I'll tell you where I’ve hidden the rest of her body.".

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