rinasspookystories

[rinasspookystories]

In the dark, I held my baby close to my chest, letting her feel the warmth of my body and the beat of my heart. The labor had been intense and I was still in so much pain from pushing my sweet, beautiful child out of my body. I held her against my skin, eyes closed as I basked in the glow of motherhood.

The sounds of my child's breathing and soft coos was like music to my ears. The feel of her tiny chest and rising and falling against mine was so soothing. The best feeling and sounds in the world.

I softly hummed a lullaby while gently rubbing my baby's back. I breathed in her scent, which was intoxicating. That new baby smell. I'd heard stories about how wonderful it was but those tales paled in comparison to the actual experience.

"Hush, Helena," I whispered as my little one begins to fuss. She's hungry so I carefully adjust her, allowing her to latch onto my breast and suckle. I can't help but smile at the sensation of her feeding and kiss the top of her head. It doesn't even hurt when the tiny, needle-like teeth pierce the skin of my nipple to give my little one access to my blood.

Write a happy story without conflict. Then with the last sentence, turn it into a horror story.

[rinasspookystories]

"So, get this, my uncle's got this cabin and he said we can use it this summer," Todd proudly boasted. He was always bragging about how he had access to or a family member had blatantly gifted him some fancy new gadget, bauble or whatever.

Last spring, it was the latest iPhone. Not that I cared about that. I'm strictly an Android user. And then there was that 'new' car his weird cousin gave him when he graduated high school. Last I heard, that thing was crunched up in a local scrapyard after a couple of mysterious deaths occurred inside the vehicle, one of which being his previous girlfriend.

"Where's it at?" Colby inquired, always the curious one. Then again, he was always trying to poke and prod and Todd and his 'gifts'. A favorite of his was the mummified artifact that, according to legend, would grant the owner three wishes. We were all glad that he never felt tempted to see if it was real. In fact, he said the damn thing creeped him out so he donated it to a local oddities museum. Good riddance, if you ask me.

"It's on the lake in Watcher's Woods," Todd answered, pulling up photos of what appeared to be a rather nice looking lakeside cabin. A cabin nestled all by it's lonesome amongst the trees of the forest. "We'll have to use my uncle's boat to get to it, but it'll be the best place for us to take our partners....or cat and party."

Todd gave me a pointed look as I was the only member of our little friend group who wasn't romantically involved with someone. Well, at least he acknowledged my feline companion and offered to invite her along.

"Parties aren't my thing, you know," I reminded. Last party I had gone to, I left early. Which actually turned out to be a good thing when one of the attendees, apparently, had a psychotic break and killed half a dozen people.

"Doesn't your new girlfriend hate parties, too?" Colby inquired.

"She does. But that's why I'm going to dedicate an entire night for what she wants to do." Todd had that carefree grin plastered on his face that he always had. "She's heard the stories about Watcher's Woods' ghosts and wants to do a seance."

"You guys have fun with that," I commented, deciding right then and there I was not going to go on that trip. "I've already made plans with Willow and Ben and Jerry." With Todd's track record, there was no way I was going to end up falling victim to one of the most cliched types of horror movies. Nope. I'll stay home with my cat and enjoy ice cream and watch some Godzilla movies.

getting horror movie vibes from the trip your friends were planning, you decided to simply stay home.

[rinasspookystories]

I hug the paralysis demon and let out a soft whistle. "Behemoth, sick 'em." A mouse-size creature scurries out from under the bed and quickly grows in size to match that of a Bengal tiger. He shakes his head, horns glinting in the moonlight coming in through the window. His bare, opossum-like tail whips about like an agitated cat's. His large paws stamp on the floor as a deep growl rumbles and vibrates the air when the door of the closet begins to inch open.

The door stops moving and the sound of claws skittering against wood echoes in the room before the closet door slams shut.

I smile and close my eyes, patting the paralysis demon on the head. "See? That closet monster can't harm us. Not with Behemoth here to protect us." I can feel the weight of Behemoth climbing onto the bed and curling up at our feet to guard us throughout the rest of the night.

You wake up to find your sleep paralysis demon holding you tight in fear, tears in eyes. “There’s a monster in the closet”, it says.

[rinasspookystories]

Poor George had no idea what to think when she saw the reaper standing in front of her. "I'm sorry....what?"

Sighing in exasperation, the black robed figure pulled back the hood to reveal the face of what appeared to be an annoyed and tired looking teenager. "You're dead. I'm here to reap your soul and take you to the next life."

"No. I got that," George stated. "What kind of reaper did you say you were again?"

The reaper shot the young woman an irritated glare. “I’m the reaper of Toilet Seats.....”

George just stared at the reaper, wanting to laugh at the absurdity. Whoever heard of someone being killed by a toilet seat? “So I’m....what number soul to die that way?”

“Three.”

“Three?” George was surprised at not being the first. “How?!”

“First one slipped in the bathroom and cracked their skull on the edge of the toilet seat. Second....that one was a toughie because that soul was held in place by the toilet seat while receiving a swirly. The drowning reaper was pissed I got that one on a technicality.” The reaper explained.

“O.....kay.....” George was almost afraid of how the reaper would explain her death. After all, she was standing in the middle of a city road and surrounded by people. “And....me?”

“Plane blew up in mid flight, the toilet seat plummeted down and landed on you.”

Each type of death has a unique type of Reaper. The Reapers of Drowning collects the souls of the drowned. The Reapers of Old Age collects those that have come to their natural end. Write a story about a Reaper for an unusual death finally having a soul to collect.

[rinasspookystories]

Your favorite writers have stopped updating, not returned from hiatus, or simply deactivated altogether, because they get no support.

If you're one of the people who goes to X writer's inbox and says "I know I don't reblog from you-" lemme just stop you right there.

We have lives. We have duties, things to do, responsibilities, because a big chunk of us are adults. It's okay that you have other things, that you're not always available, that you might be going through something and can't always read or reblog everything. Writers get that.

But no writer wants to see you tell them "Hey, I know I don't reblog from you!"

They know. They're in a slump for a reason. The reason isn't you not reblogging or supporting them, the reason is hardly anyone doing it.

And if you go to them and wave the "hey!! I don't reblog from you even though it's all you ask in return for your free work!" card, chances are, the writer will be upset. They can't very well point out how tactless you're being, because then they might just be cancelled or called out for being rude to you when you are deliberately being tone-deaf to their situation as well.

Like you, writers have lives outside. Writers have jobs, or are searching for them; they have worries, duties, things going on, worries, etc.

The difference is they sit for hours upon hours to write, while it would only take you between a second and a minute to reblog.

Reblogging is absolutely not difficult. Fast reblogging is incredibly quick and practical, but "slow" reblogging isn't slow either. You don't even have to add a comment to the reblog, an empty reblog is just as appreciated.

Supporting your writers is literally not difficult, and if you as a reader and as a consumer aren't going to do it, then it's totally fine if you choose not to. Your life, your blog, your choice.

But don't go at a writer to remind them "Hey I know I'm among the people who doesn't support you but I still like what you write" and expect them to be overwhelmed with joy without feeling the slightest tinge of resentment.

Likes do nothing!!!

If you're in the position to support a writer, do it. It's not hard.

[rinasspookystories]

Fish Bones

I've heard a number of stories about gifts being bestowed upon kind hearted individuals. Trees, animals, mystical beings...just to name a few. This case, in particular, involves a young girl and gifts she receives from the bones of a fish. An odd thing to be able to grant wishes or gifts, but I suppose there's stranger. Maybe. Allow me to start this explanation with a story. In it, there is a man with two wives. Not an unusual sight. Especially among the higher class families in China. The wives each birth a daughter, both of which are as lovely as their mothers. I know this much based on the testimony of the father and the portraits he showed me of his family. Indeed, he was married to a pair of beauties. His first wife reminded me of a viper. Beautiful, angry, venomous. She would wear makeup to hide any flaws on her face (so perhaps she was not as lovely as she truly was). But then, that was merely what could be seen on the surface. Her eyes showed far more. You could see an inner cruelty, the venom, shining in her almond shaped eyes. Eyes that were too heavily lined and weighed down with far too much mascara which hid what could possibly have been rather attractive hazel eyes. And then she also wore too thick makeup that was one, maybe two, shades lighter than her natural complexion along with deep rouge on her lips that only accentuated how thin and tense her mouth was. Personally, I feel she may have been trying far too hard.

The second wife, whom this man has proclaimed to be his favorite, brings to mind wildflowers. There's a softness to her face and in her coal black eyes. A complexion matching someone who spends much time outside and tending to a garden (apparently a favorite pastime of hers). And not even a static image can hide the smile hidden in the corner of her full lips. I can certainly see why he's chosen her as his favorite. Were I the kind who might marry, I would certainly want this lovely creature. Such a shame that she had passed before her time. Now, for the daughters. As stated before, there are two of them. The elder being born to the first wife and the younger being born to the second. Both girls take after their mothers. Though it should be mentioned that the first, thankfully, doesn't share her mother's stern expression or penchant for heavy makeup. This first daughter has the same eye shape and color as her mother, but the lack of heavy makeup makes it much easier too see the color of them. The only difference is that the daughter's eyes are somewhat more slanted and makes her look like a fox. Not that that is such a bad thing. The vulpine-like features suit the girl quite well and give others the impression that she is far more cunning than she appears to be. Such a shame that her personality doesn't match her features. She could certainly be a force to be reckoned with in court if she was the sly creature she looks to be. Sadly, she's actually quite dim and as vain as her mother. And a horrid complainer. Although, I'm not certain there's any teenaged girl that wouldn't complain about pain and discomfort while going through the process of foot binding. Before I move on, I should explain that China does not favor foot binding much, anymore. While some families do still perform the procedure, it's usually started when a girl is much, much younger. While their feet were still growing. Not when the girl was nearly full grown. I believe that she may have also been dealing with an infection from the procedure when I first met her. Moving on now. The second daughter was the very image of her mother. Thick, black hair and wide, doe-like eyes the color of ebony. She even had that same little smile in the corner of her mouth. This girl, Yeh-Shen, is also the primary subject of this case. Which should be noted that she was very forthcoming with her side of the events. To begin, Yeh-Shen's mother died while she was still a young girl, leaving behind a beautiful garden with a fish pond. According to her father, she spent much time at the pond after her mother's passing. Apparently, she'd taken quite a liking to a particular fish in the pond. To say that this was the extent of things, though, would be wrong. Things get much worse in this story. As a merchant, the girl's father would often spend long durations of time away from home. During these times, the first wife, we'll call her Qiao, would treat Yeh-Shen as a servant. Forcing her stepdaughter to clean, cook and tend to her and her daughter's every need and whim. Qiao would even belittle her, calling her 'Lazy Girl' and whipping her if she didn't move as quickly as she wanted. For her own part, Qiao's daughter, whom shall be called Niu, wasn't as bad as her mother. She wasn't much better, but she also wasn't so abusive. Unless you counted kicking Yeh-Shen in the face when her feet were being cleaned and bandaged. Niu, though, would often thank her sister and didn't take part in the beatings or the name calling. That being said, she didn't exactly make it easier for her, either. Mostly by not offering to help with any of the chores and not speaking up against her mother for the woman's poor behavior. I suppose it can't be helped, though. Qiao can be quite intimidating. As mentioned, Yeh-Shen often spent her free time in her mother's garden and tending to a particular koi fish. I was fortunate enough to have gotten to see a painting of this fish, done by the girl in question. She's quite talented with paints and the fish was quite beautiful. Mostly white with a pale gold diamond between it's eyes. I imagine the fish must've looked as if it's scales were made of pearls while the marking looked more like fragments of amber. Even in the painting, you can see an intelligence in the animal that isn't commonly noticed in a fish of any kind. while we spoke, she told me tales of how the fish, called Bai, would often swim up to greet her and allow her to pet it as if it were a house cat. She also spoke of how Bai would 'dance' for her, as if performing for it's mistress in the hopes of cheering her up. No doubt, Yeh-Shen genuinely loved this little fish. She didn't even need to say as much as I could see it on her face and hear it in her voice. It's a shame that there must be one more bit of tragedy before a happier end comes. In this case, Bai was killed. As a form of punishment as well as to feed her own child and herself, Qiao scooped the fish from the pond and forced Yeh-Shen to prepare it as a meal. There's no doubt that the poor girl cried the entire time and continued to do so as she gathered every tiny bone and wrapped in silk. Yeh-Shen then spoke of how she cared for the bones as if they were a treasure, wishing nothing more than for her friend to return to her. As it happens, the festival celebrating the new year took place just a few, short months after this. Qiao was adamant that Yeh-Shen not attend. Considering this was also a time when young women and men often sought out a potential spouse, the woman didn't want the extra competition against Niu. I imagine anyone seeing that girl hobbling along in binding shoes would only bring about feelings of pity. Not exactly a great way to try and get a husband. However, this is not Niu's story. While she was forced to stay home, Yeh-Shen spoke to the bones of her beloved fish. Something she claims to have been doing since it's death as it brought her comfort. As she carried on a one-sided conversation, her garments changed from muslin rags to silk robes and golden slippers. While there's no evidence to prove it, it seems the bones of the fish were able to grant it's mistress's wish. She was able to go to the festival. The festival in question was a rather large event. One that I was unable to attend due to having holed myself up with my work. But I did hear a great deal about the spectacle afterwards. How a tiny golden slipper led to a simple servant girl marrying the son of one of the most powerful lords. It's at this point that the story's events were told from the perspective of the young lord, Li Shou. He had found the slipper shortly after parting ways with Yeh-Shen, having been talking with her for some time. He had hoped to get her name, but she had fled before telling him. A shame as that may have made it much easier for him to find her and return the little shoe. What should be noted is that I keep referencing the size of this shoe. There is a reason. The object appears to belong to a rather young girl, not an adult woman. Had I not been shown the size of her feet when shown the slippers, I would've believed that there was no way it belonged to her. During the search, Shou had all the unmarried ladies try the slipper on. Given a woman would've had to have had a severely deformed foot to fit into such a small shoe, it's no surprise that no one was able to fit into it. There was even moments when, according to those who witnessed it, the slipper would shrink whenever a girl would be close to the same size. No doubt there was some form of magic still involved and it was helping this young man find it's rightful owner. At some point, the slipper was brought to Yeh-Shen's home where Niu tried on the slipper, first. Naturally, it didn't come close to fitting the young woman's foot and no one was really keen on helping her force it on the infected appendage. Qiao tried to keep the true owner of the slipper from being seen, but since the lord and his men needed to pass by the garden and the pond in order to leave, she failed in her attempt. Lord Shou goes on to tell how he approached the frightened servant girl and asked her try on the slipper. Sure enough, the slipper fit her dainty foot perfectly. Now is the part that has me the most intrigued. For it was moments after Yeh-Shen put on the slipper that her beloved fish had reappeared in the pond. And, according to the young couple, Qiao dragged Niu into the garden to try and stop Shou from meeting her stepdaughter. When they reached a certain spot by the pond, the koi, resurrected by some unknown force, had leaped up and struck them with it's tail. The impact resulted in the two toppling into the pond where they transformed into a pair of koi fish. Lord Shou said that he had never heard screams such as theirs. Screams that indicated the change must've been quite painful. Thankfully, they allowed me to see these fish. The original koi was just as lovely as the original painting indicated. These two new ones, though... I'm not certain what to consider them to be. Both are a mottled black and orange with dull, black eyes set on their very human faces. The longest one, I assume was once Qiao, had a very thin face and would bite at anyone who tried to approach. The other, I can only guess to have been Niu because of the deformed tail fin. Certainly seems to be a fitting end for them.

[rinasspookystories]

Angel Witch

Dark eyes dangerously narrowed, they lunged and slammed the angel against the wall. He stared back, unblinking gold eyes at the former witch. Despite being  signifigantly smaller than him, the 'abomination' held him fast and lifted him several inches from the ground. There was the sound of a feral hiss, perhaps from the green eyed, black feline watching his master.

"What did I do?" They demanded, black smoke-like energy emanating from their hands. "Why did she say you should've just killed me?! That I belong in hell!"

The angel's gaze shifted from his attacker to the flame haired angel standing off to the side. It had been no secret that she had despised the sickly looking creature before him. Not for what they were. Not for what they now are. But because of what they have and how long they've had it.

Raising a hand, he finally spoke. "Try and calm yourself. I will explain." A golden 'flame' of energy moved into the smaller one's body as he touched their arm.

The shadowed magic dissapated as the tension in their arms lessened. They stepped back, pulling away from the angel's touch and watching him suspiciously. A 'meow' and the feel of their familiar rubbing against their leg drew their attention to their feet. They ignored, both, the red and yellow haired angels watching as they scooped up the oldest friend they'd ever known and scritched behind it's ears.

"Are you aware of what a witch must do in order to summon a familiar to them?" The male angel spoke softly, gently. Unlike the female, he had been with them since before their transition into angelicism. He'd managed to broker a tenative trust with them and their familiar. He needed to maintain that trust, or they would never be able to complete the mission ahead.

"I've heard rumors. Something about a blood ceremony."

That was good. A rumor was better than nothing. "Yes. There's more to it than that, though." The angel tried to coax them to sit, but wasn't surprised when they refused.

"Stop babying the damn monster, already," The red head snapped, only to be struck by a blade of smokey shadow from the witch's outstretched hand.

"Stop calling me that!"

The blonde quickly and gently placed a hand on the arm that reached out towards the other angel. Shooting a glare at the red hair, he tried to get the former witch calmed again. He needed them calm and the woman was not helping. Thankfully, that was all that was needed for her to finally leave in a huff.

"Now....as you remember, your familiar has been with you since you were around four. Correct?" There was a nod in response as the new angel relaxed and held their cat. "And you know that it's more typical for witches to gain their familiar after they've become adults?" Another nod. So far, so good. "Your parents....they died the same night your familiar appeared?" Silence, followed by a slow nod. They were starting to get the picture. That was good. "You didn't harm your parents," The yellow eyed angel assured, placing his hand on their shoulder. "Another witch had attacked them. The blood of a witch is what is needed to summon a familiar. But it must be a witch that has not yet gained a familiar."

"My parents had familiars, though." They remembered the two very large, black dogs their mother and father had had.

"But you didn't." The angel felt them tense up as the realisation dawned on them.

"I....." They looked at their familiar, tears filling their coal black eyes. "I'm a monster...."

"You were a small child. Frightened, traumatized and desperate. You're powers reacted to your emotions. Afterwards, you mirrored what you had seen your parents do when they summoned their own familiars. You needed comfort and you knew someone or something would come. Just as with your mother and father."

While trying to comfort them, the witch turned angel hugged their familiar close and sobbed into it's fur. Not even the gentle hand rubbing their back could calm them right then.

[rinasspookystories]

You run an unusual business; you pair magical service animals with disabled superheroes. Today, your favorite superhero visits you. His archnemesis has robbed him of his vision. What animal do you advise?

[rinasspookystories]

The Lake

When I was little, my mom used to take me to this lake. We had a little boat and it wasn't unusual for us to take our dog and let him swim while I splashed in the shallows. Mom usually sat on the back of the boat and held my hands to keep me from falling into the water if I lost my balance. All in all, it was the best way for a three or four year old to enjoy the summer.

I can't remember all of the trips we ever made to the lake, but I do remember this one time. We had decided to stay later than normal so I could catch my first fireflies. I was still splashing about in the water while Sprocket, our dog, was swimming not to far from us. As the sun started setting, a man came by to do a bit of night fishing. My mom, being the friendly person she was and the fact she knew the man, gave him a friendly wave and they started chatting. The whole while, I was watching my feet as I splashed and giggled.

Suddenly, Sprocket stopped swimming, having come closer to us so he was about chest deep in water. I should tell you that this dog was a Newfoundland. Not exactly a small dog, so you can tell he was still a bit of a distance from us. We could hear him growling at something and all three of us looked over to see just what might've been bothering him. Mom and the man didn't seem to notice anything, but I could clearly see a lady about the same age and height as my mom. She was about waist deep in water and looked like she had spent the day swimming. I couldn't see her eyes as they were hidden under her hair, but I did see a smile on her face as she waved to me, looking as though she was inviting me to swim with her. I had waved excitedly and pulled on my mom's hand, telling her the lady wanted us to go out to her.

Now, I don't know what the man did, but Mom picked me up so fast I thought my head would fall back and she screamed to Sprocket, calling him so we could leave. It wasn't until later in my teens, when I was doing a project about my local history, that I came across an urban legend about the lake we used to visit. 

Apparently, a woman had drowned herself and her child there some time in the sixties. According to the legend, the woman often appeared on the lake at dusk and would beckon to any small child that might be in or near the water. I never went near that lake ever again.

[rinasspookystories]

The Child

There's this little village in Ireland, hidden in the valley of a remote mountain range. One of those places that seems cut off from the world without actually being cut off. In this village, everyone knew everybody. Everyone looked out for each other. It was one of those tight knit communities. Sure, there was a few bad apples that turned up now and then, but they didn't seem to stick around long.

One of the families, a merchant, his wife and their young, adult daughter, was one of the more protected families of the community.  This merchant was responsible for bringing many of the goods such as food, medicine, clothing and fabric into the village. He also had a tendency of exporting things such as pickled vegetables, jams and wool that the villagers provided, selling them in markets for the villagers and giving them the profits. While it wasn't unusual for him to be gone for several months at a time, it was rare that he ever took his wife or daughter. That's why it was strange to see the merchant's family home vacant for an extended period of time.

Eventually, the merchant's family did return. But something seemed to have changed. They all looked to be quite tired. And there, in the arms of the daughter, was a bundle. A bundle with a tiny, pale hand reaching out to grab the emerald pendant around her neck.

No one in the village had much to say about the baby. Many believed that the child was adopted by the kind hearted merchant's family. So, it only made sense that the residents of the village would accept the infant and help to raise it.

For the most part, the child stayed indoors as it grew up, rarely being seen beyond brief glimpses of  them peeking around the curtains. Those glimpses often sent shivers down the spine of the passersby, seeing what appeared to be a young girl or long haired boy gazing at them out the window. The child's skin was an unearthly white, their fingers longer than what should be natural. The long locks of hair that covered their face was black as the darkest night with large, sunken eyes to match.

Rumors started to spread. Some claimed that the child had been spawned from hell. Others said that it was an angel, fallen from grace. There were some who believed it to be vampiric in nature. And then there was those who whispered about how the merchant had tired of his wife and, instead, had his way with their daughter. That last one went on to say that the pregancy from the incestuous affair was why the merchant had taken them on that trip. To hide the fact when the daughter began to show. Whatever the case, everyone agreed that there was something not quite right about the child.

As the years progressed, the merchant came down with a mysterious illness. One that proved to be, eventually, fatal. It was a matter of months before the wife and then the daughter contracted the same disease, leaving only the child. The child which was now in their middle teenage years.

For a time, the house remained dark. There was no shift in the curtains to signal the child peeking out as they used to. Some of the villagers started to think that the child, itself, had grown ill, as well. Some of them even prayed for that to be the case. However, the comings and goings of servants meant that the child must be very much alive, still. But that didn't mean that the dwindling of the staff wasn't noticed by those outside the manor.

Eventually, someone decided to see if they could find out why the staff members were seeming to disappear. The young woman, who had always been afraid of the house and the strange child inside, gathered her courage to investigate. Donning the guise of a maid, she made her way to the mansion. It was easy to gain entrance with the help of the remaining staff, claiming that she was a new maid that had been hired. From there, it was just a matter of finding that creature that had imitated a human child.

If she were to be honest, she thought it would've been more difficult to locate them. In truth, though, she found out that the child never left their room during the day. Apparently, they had locked themself inside after the death of the merchant's daughter. How many times had she seen the child peeking down at her from it's bedroom? Too many times. That made it easier to find the space in question.

Standing before the door, the young woman couldn't help but tremble. Just what exactly was behind that door? Was it human? Something else? Only one way to find out.

Holding her breath, she pressed her ear to the door. Inside, she could hear muffled sounds. She'd heard it before when her brother had died in his crib. Whatever it was in that room, was crying. A sound that made her heart twist in sympathetic agony. It made her feel guilty for what she was doing. But, it needed to be done.

Slowly, she turned the knob and pushed the door open some, slipping inside before anyone could see her do so. As the door clicked shut, she realised that the room had gone silent. With her heart pounding in her throat, she turned to face the child......and screamed.

Instead of the familiar, creepy face she had always seen, she was looking at their back. From the nightgown they were wearing and how they were huddled in a corner, it was impossible to tell the gender of the child. But then, that wasn't what the false maid was worried about. What she saw was long, disheveled black hair hanging over the trembling child's face. Instead of seeing more hair on the back of the neck, there was a gaping maw with large teeth.

Moving faster than she thought possible, she turned back around to flee the room.

"D-don't go," A small voice pleaded, making the woman freeze in place. "Don't go. Please. Don't go."

"What are you?" The woman demanded in a shaky voice, not daring to look back at the creature behind her.

"I'm alone. I'm...scared."

Listening to the response, the thing did sound like a frightened, lonely child. It made the intruder turn back to look at the creature. The mouth on the back of it's head was, thankfully, no longer visible as the child had turned to face her. It's tangled hair pushed behind it's ear by those long fingers. Those black eyes wet with unshed tears.

Mourning. This creature, it was mourning.

Carefully, slowly, she apporached and knelt down beside it. All fear had left her now. What she felt was sympathy. Instead of lashing out to harm it, she reached over and gathered the child in her arms in a gentle but warm embrace.

Long fingers reached up and gripped the back of her uniform as the creature nuzzled against her breasts. It clung to the false maid, embracing the warmth that had been denied for so long.

Eventually, the child calmed down and agreed to lay down while she explored the house. Something in this elaborate tomb had to tell where this creature had come from and how it came to be raised by the merchant and his family. So, where could she find such information?

Her first thought was in the merchant's office. She checked every book and journal that the man had left behind. Nothing. The wife's diaries? No. A search through there yielded no answer, either. That left the daughter's diaries.

At last! An answer! The daughter had stolen the child. Such a crime was disgraceful as it was. But she had not taken the child from a human. She had stolen it from a faerie mother. The entry telling the story detailed how she had tricked the child's mother into giving her it's only offspring. A deed that cursed her and her family with sickness and death.

The young woman, disgusted with what she'd learned about the family the village had had so much respect for, slammed the book shut. There was but one choice for what to do with the child and she was the only one that could.

In the dead of night, the false maid gathered some of her belongings and the child and left the village. They had a long journey to ahead of them and there was no telling how long it would take before she found the child's rightful mother.

[rinasspookystories]

Terra’s Doll

Terra hated most anything that would be considered 'girly'. Baby dolls were high on the list of things that she would rather never be forced to have. Something about this doll, though, had the ten year old intrigued. She had found it while exploring the remains of an old, dilapidated building that her college age brother had let her tag along. The doll was an old, dirty patchwork doll with some loose stitches. The glass button eyes, though, gleamed through the dust and grime as if they held a life all their own.

Since she seemed to be so fascinated by the doll, her brother saw no harm in letting her take it home with her. The older sibling made sure to thoroughly clean and repair the rag doll, including the odd pendant stitched at the collar of the doll's dress. There something familiar about the symbol engraved on it, but he couldn't think of where he'd seen it. Not at the moment, at least. In a matter of days, her parents and brother noticed a big change in Terra. She seemed to become more distant, detached and disinterested in the games and activities that she had once enjoyed so much. Instead, it appeared the doll took up all of her interest and time. To the point that the little girl carried on conversations with the doll and would carry it everywhere. Eventually, Terra's brother had to leave to return to campus and his studies, leaving his parents to deal with his sister's unusual changes. In the middle of the night, though, just a week after he had left, he was pulled away from a late night study session by a phone call. It was the police, informing him that his parents were the victims of a copycat killer. One that had performed a ritualistic murder on a family decades ago. Immediately, he asked about his sister, worried she was hurt or killed, as well.

Turns out, his sister was unharmed. In fact, she was the sole survivor, mirroring the prior murder exactly.  Just as with the previous survivor, Terra had been found sitting between her dead parents, clutching that doll tightly. On her forehead, looking like a bloody finger painting on her forehead, was a marking that he knew he had seen before. As he looked over the photos of his sister, photos the police had been kind enough to let him see, he remembered where he had seen that symbol. It had been present in another local murder of a family. A murder where a sole child survived. A murder that took place in the same house Terra's rag doll came from.

[rinasspookystories]

The Cocky Ghost(Hunter)

((This is the first entry for my writing blog. And I felt that the best way to celebrate is to do a little shoutout for the #FreeTheCocky.))

Let me start off by saying that I am a ghost. I've been keeping to my haunt since...sometime in the early eighteen hundreds. So, that means I've seen a lot of changes occur in my time here. Hey, this was my home. I was born here (literally) grew up here and died here (again, literally). Bear in mind, I died young when I caught pneumonia after falling through some thin ice. So...yeah, I didn't really get a chance to do a lot of the things I should've have. I didn't get to finish my education, never got to get married or start or family. Hell, I don't even know if I even really like girls all that much. I was barely fifteen when I died, after all.

Anyway, back to my initial story. I've been keeping to the home I had lived in when I was, well, alive. That being said, I've seen my share of people and families coming and going here. I don't mind, really. It's a big place. Lots of rooms, plenty of space to share. I do like to keep some things as they used to be. Primarily, my old room. My parents had left everything there for me, though I'm not so sure they even realized I was still around. But yeah, I like my room. Always did. I have a bunch of books in there that I would read, had a few leftover childhood play things that I just couldn't bear to get rid of, like this old pull toy of a bear with a little clown doll that sat on it's back and this little cat figure dressed like a prince that would wave his arms and legs when you pulled the strings he was on. I even have a chess set in there that I still like to play with now and then. There's even been times when some of the living inhabitants would play with me. All in all, I had no issues as long as my room stayed my room. But, of course, sometimes I needed to let new families know that my room was my personal space. I never did anything to hurt anyone and I didn't exactly throw a major tantrum (I was fifteen, not five). I would just move things around that they needed, like keys to their cars, sweaters, wallets and purses. Nothing super important and I always put it back if they couldn't find it after an hour or so. Well, I would put the keys, wallets and purses back. Other things, I would keep hidden until my room was put back in it's proper order. That being said, I've dealt with my share of ghost hunters, psychics and mediums. In most cases, I was able to get my point across easily. I wasn't dangerous. I just wanted to stay in my home and I wanted my room to be kept as it was. I didn't mind if it was cleaned and everything kept in working order. I also didn't mind if any kids or teens decided to sleep in there. Hey, not like I was using the bed. And besides, it was a great way for me to learn about the modern world and such. So, for the most part, I had a pretty good relationship with all the occupants who came into my home. Sadly, I can't say the same for all of them. There was this one guy, a real asshole. The ghost hunter, not the occupant. The occupant was actually pretty cool but I didn't appreciate him trying to paint the walls of my room some bright lavender color for his ten year old daughter. Anyway, this hunter decided to get pretty aggressive from the get go. Now, most hunters will tell you that you should never go and provoke a ghost to get a response. Not unless it's a last resort. This idiot, though, is lucky I was never the violent type. If I was, he'd have gotten a hell of a lot more than just my world atlas thrown at his head. I mean, really, was there a reason to go and call me such crude and obscene things? Now, I could deal with the foul language that he was using and how he was cussing me out and calling me things that no person, living or dead, should be called. Hell, I think a pirate or harlot would've blushed at the language he was using. What really set me off, though, was when the cocky bastard said that all of my stuff had to be burned and that a priest needed brought in to 'cast the fucker back into hell'. Seriously, he said that. In front of that little girl. Well, he wanted violent, I gave him violent (okay, not really because I didn't want to hurt anyone). I grabbed a few pillows from the couch and started throwing them at the hunter. When those and the cushions were used up, I threw the girl's stuffed animals. Eventually, he bolted (not so cocky now, are you, asshole). After that, the family decided to call in a psychic medium. After a quick sage smudging (say what you will, I find it very soothing) I was able to explain what really had me upset. The girl's father agreed to not change anything in my room and the little girl asked to learn how to play chess. You know, she's gotten a lot better. Even come close to beating me a couple times.