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Passage to the Dead by GZDude13

The seven monks each pulled out a long silver spike from their robes and proceeded to hammer them down with wooden mallets into the thick red clay at their feet. Brandon looked at his guide with a perplexed look hoping for an explanation. He had taken to calling his guide John because he couldn’t pronounce his real name. John reached into his pack and produced a similar silver spike and worn down wooden mallet and handed them to Brandon along with a large spool of red wool yarn.

“This is for that your soul does not get lost my friend. Keep yourself grounded into this world and find your way back. I will wait here for three days. If you do not return then I will go.” explained John through his thick foreign accent.

Brandon looked at him sternly and with the same perplexed look for a moment before speaking.

“It shouldn’t take me three days, John. I have her image in my mind and I feel her soul and love in my heart... I know I can find her. These monks don’t speak English and I can’t speak their language, are you sure you won’t come with me?”

John shook his head and lifted his right hand as if to say stop.

“I do not follow the dead, my friend. What you do is your mission alone so this is as far as I can come. Besides, I only have that one silver spike. If I follow I will become lost.”

“Fine, but this won’t take long. I’ll find Karen and we'll be back out before sunset.”

John only lifted his hands as if to say “If you say so” and placed his pack on the boulder by the cave entrance. The monks finished tying their own red spools of yarn to their silver spikes and now knelt at the cave entrance in silent prayer. As the monks prayed a cold breeze seemed to come from the cave and with it came low whispers of familiar voices calling out to Brandon and John. John immediately covered his ears while Brandon began to take steps towards the entrance. John instinctively reached out and grabbed Brandon’s arm and pulled him back. Brandon seemed to snap out of a trance and John let go of him only after Brandon pulled away from him.

“Please Mr. Brandon… wait for the monks to finish their prayers… then you go.”

For a while, Brandon felt impatient having sworn that he had heard the voice of his long-dead wife calling to him from the darkness of the cave. After about 15 minutes Brandon and the seven monks finally entered the cave. As they disappeared into the darkness John looked up at the ancient hieroglyphs etched in the walls and felt a pang of fear run down his spine as he read the ancient warnings he had become too familiar with. The monks had taught him through their old scriptures that the ancient civilization that once populated that forest had discovered this dark portal into the world beyond the living. Perhaps they died protecting its secrets… or perhaps one day they simply gave in to the tempting whispers carried in the familiar voices of lost loved ones. John took no pleasure in his next task and steeled himself by reciting the warnings carved on the stone walls of the cave.

“Be still at the entrance to the underworld. Follow not the dead and bring back not the departed. Lost will be the souls that seek to regain who are already lost. Cursed are the living that are found by the shadows.”

John had lied to the monks and told them Brandon sought safe passage into the afterlife to join his dead wife. They agreed to guide him under the safety of their protective prayers. They knew that the land of the dead harbored the souls of the departed and the lost, but also beings that were never alive to begin with. John had no intention of allowing Brandon to return with a being that did not belong in the world of the living. He drew out his knife and with a heavy heart cut Brandon’s red yarn before pulling the spike from the ground. The red thread slowly dragged away and disappeared into the darkness of the cave while John prayed for forgiveness knowing he just ended a man’s life.

As John once again picked up his pack and prepared to leave he felt the cold breeze caress his cheeks and whisper in his ears again. The familiar voices of his loving wife and children came to him before he could reach up to cover his ears again. Several hours later the seven monks emerged from the darkness only to find John’s pack lying at the cave’s entrance. They said one more prayer for John before making their way through the forest and back to the safety of their temple.

[gzdude13]

Grizzly Monster by GZDude13

The following is a story told to me when I was a child. I claim no ownership to this story and I have done my best not to embellish any of the details. I can’t remember everything and I’m sure I am missing some details, but the following is everything that I can remember. Enjoy!

When I was a young boy my god father’s friend (we’ll call him mike because I can’t remember his real name) once told me a story of a time he went camping with his father. They had gone into the woods somewhere in the southern part of Nevada. Mike said he was in his early teens at the time and had gone camping many times before so he was well experienced in toughing it out in the wilderness with his father. They had brought all of the essentials including a shotgun just for protection and Mike’s father had a CB radio built into his truck just in case of an emergency.

They were planning on staying out there for a few nights but by the second or third night they would end up abandoning camp and driving off in a hurry to the nearest emergency room. The way Mike told the story made it seem as if all throughout their stay they felt as if something was off. They had been on many camping trips before, but they felt uneasy this time around. When the sun went down that day Mike said he thought he could hear something rustling in the forest around them.

Mike would usually make jokes about the boogie man or monsters coming to get me, but he would always say it with a joking smile on his face. This time, when he told me about the creeping creature in the forest that was seemingly stalking him and his father there was no smile on his face at all. Mike described having smelled something like rotting meat before he heard loud huffing noises like that of a large bull or bison.

Mike’s father supposedly smelled and heard the same things and proceeded to arm himself with a machete while instructing Mike to go into the truck and get the shotgun. This is where Mike would usually pause in his story for suspense, which is why sometimes I never took his story seriously. Before Mike could finish loading the shotgun he said he heard a loud snarling and turned around in time to see a massive 8-foot tall lumbering bear-like-creature with beady eyes that appeared to be bleeding.

Mike’s dad had no time to react as this massive black monstrosity emerged out of the darkness. Mike’s dad was knocked to the ground as this thing tried to latch on to him with its massive jaws big enough to fit a man’s head and shoulders. Mike panicked and barely managed to level the shotgun at the monster grizzly and fired off a shot. The thing appeared mostly un-phased by the buckshot and continued to try and bite Mike’s flailing father. Mike claimed to have heard the bones crack as this thing snapped its vice-like jaws on his father’s leg.

As the creature began to drag Mike’s father back into the darkness of the woods he leveled the gun and shot the creature again, this time square in the face. It let go of his father and they both made their way back to the truck. At some point, after the attack, Mike and his father returned to that area and spoke to either law enforcement or forest rangers, I can’t remember. Their claims of an 8-foot tall black grizzly with bleeding red eyes were dismissed.

I have seen pictures of Mike’s father. In one particular picture of a father-son fishing trip Mike’s father was wearing khaki shorts and the massive scars on his leg were very visible. However, my godfather dismissed them as an old injury caused from a severe motorcycle accident that nearly resulted in an amputation. I never met Mike’s father so I never got direct confirmation on the story details. All I know is that out of all of Mike’s creepy stories and joking this is the only one he swore was true. Now that I’m older I know that there are no bears, especially grizzly bears, in the southern part of Nevada.

[gzdude13]

The Girl and the Closet by GZDude13

The following are select journal entries from the many journals belonging to Shelly Mary Jones

August 29, 2006 Dear Diary,

Mommy and Daddy are making me start writing in this journal after I got in trouble. Marcy is a girl in my class. I barely started the second grade. Marcy was mean to me and took my brand new markers without asking so I pushed her and called her a goober. I was sent to the office and my mommy and daddy had to come and talk to my teacher. They said I was fighting, but that was not true. The principal talked to my parents about bullying and they said they would talk to me about it too.

So today I am writing in this diary as there-a-pee or something like that. Daddy told me that if I’m mean to others then the dark eye monster will come and get me. They said that the dark eye lives in the dark parts of the world like shadows and sewers or under my bed and loves to go after bad kids. Kids that bully other kids and hit or call them mean things. My teacher says that I am too smart to be a bully and should focus on being a good student. I think from now on I will be good even if others make fun of my red hair and freckles.

From now on I will be a good girl.

January 25, 2010 Dear Diary,

I came home crying from school today. I get made fun of a lot at school even though I do my best to be kind to everyone. Today I think I reached my limit because I ended up slapping Jenny after she pulled my hair. She was mad at me because she has a crush on Brandon and he likes to talk to me during lunch. She and her group of friends came over to my table when I was alone and started saying mean things about why I always sit alone. I tried to be nice and tell her that she had the wrong idea, but she only chastised me for putting on the “good girl” act. When I tried to answer her she yelled “shut the fuck up bitch!” and pulled my hair. I didn’t mean to slap her, it was just reflex. Mom and Dad are going to be so disappointed.

I’ve heard the rumors… everyone thinks I suck up to the teacher and that’s why I get good grades. Everyone says that I only pretend to be nice and pretend to be sweet because I like the attention from the adults. My parents use to scare me with stories about the DarkEye monster to make sure I didn’t turn out to be a bully. I guess it stuck pretty well because even though I know my parents are going to flip out over me getting detention I’m more scared of going to sleep tonight because of the DarkEye monster. It’s such a stupid childish fear to have, but it’s still there.

January 26, 2010 Dear Diary,

I had a really bad nightmare last night. I went to bed still feeling really guilty over what happened with Jenny yesterday. It didn’t help that my parents were pretty upset with what happened at school either. I am effectively grounded for the next two weeks… I guess I deserve it. But the worst part was the night after. I dreamed of a black shadowy demon with the darkest glinting eyes I had ever seen. It was the DarkEye monster my parents use to scare me with. I know the DarkEye isn’t real and that it’s a childish and stupid tactic my parents used to keep me in line, but it felt real in my dream. It was pitch black yet I could still see two eyes that were darker than black and shined like polished onyx.

I woke up sweating and panting as if I just ran a million miles. The DarkEye isn’t a real thing, my parents made it up, but just in case I’m wrong I promise to be a better person. I promise to be kinder to people no matter what.

October 19, 2016 Dear Journal,

It was a fairly good day today. The student council members all met up during our open period in the morning and we agreed on all the decorations for the Halloween dance. Edgar Ochoa asked me to go with him, but I politely turned him down. Shannon doesn’t have a date and I agreed to go with her and the rest of the girls as a group. We’re all going with themed dresses and outfits. We agreed that no costumes should be allowed at the dance, only themed outfits. The teachers will be in charge of how that craziness will be defined.

As a side note, I think we have to address the issue of bullying in school again. I’m going to bring it up tomorrow because today while walking to my 5th-period class I had to step in and stop the jocks from bullying Sean Snider. He’s an easy target because he’s a little shorter than the average high schooler and a bit awkward. I can relate a little bit because I use to be made fun of for my bright red hair and pale skin. Devin Martin and Jerry Shoemaker seem to be the ringleaders in most fights and bully-related issues on campus. I’ll talk to Mrs. Hartwell and Mr. Terrance tomorrow about the issue.

July 4 2017 Dear Journal,

First off, HAPPY 4TH OF JULY! It was a fantastic day… up until the end. It was a Tuesday, so I had to go to work and then come home for a lunch break before meeting up with mom and dad for a BBQ. Keeping with our yearly tradition we headed to the park to watch the fireworks when the sun goes down. The city went all out this year! There were a ton of awesome stands selling funnel cakes, hotdogs, pretzels, and even a German wiener stand! Nothing says American patriotism quite like German sausage, haha!

But now for the negative part of my day… I saw Sean Snider again today. I honestly think he really is stalking me. I don’t get any weird messages or anything online and so far I haven’t really felt like my life is being directly affected by him, but he has come into the coffee shop several times during my work shift including today. I’ve seen him at the store while applying for classes at college, and today at the park. I literally bumped into him at the German sausage stand. I turned around to walk back to my parents to get some cash and walked right into him! I know I’ve mentioned before that I think he’s following me around, but today I think this proves it. He’s being a little creep! The way I bumped into him really disturbed me. He’s so short that when I turned around and walked into him… just… ew…

April 6, 2018 Dear Journal,

Oh god, I haven’t been sleeping well during the past few weeks. I’ve been having nightmares and end up waking up around 3:00 am. I started having nightmares around July of last year. I know what it is too; I’m stressing and letting in negative thoughts. I have to try and stay positive and polite, but honestly, some people are complete garbage! I notice that the only nights I have nightmares are the days when someone ticks me off.

The nightmares are always the same too. That stupid childish monster my mom and dad made up to keep me in line… DarkEye… In every nightmare I see it creeping after me, slowly getting closer and closer every night I dream of it. I’ve gotten into the habit of looking under my bed and in my closet just in case there are monsters hiding there... namely DarkEye. Maybe I’ll start meditating again and try to think more positively.

April 9, 2018 Dear Journal,

Between college, work, and the possibility of having a constant stalker, (I saw Snider the creep today AGAIN!), I am stressing out and people are pissing me the hell off! Every night I have the same nightmare of DarkEye coming after me. I wake up at 3:00 am and find my closet door open when I’m sure I closed the damn thing!

I’m probably just being a drama queen, but I keep up the façade of being unaffected by the bull crap people throw my way. My coworkers talk smack about me behind my back and have accused me of going as far as sleeping with the boss to get my promotion. Two of my teachers are completely incompetent when it comes to grading papers, and I swear that sniveling little hobbit, Snider, somehow memorized my daily schedule because I see him EVERYWHERE! I’m just glad he doesn’t know where I live.

April 11, 2018 Holy shit journal!

My patience is being tested today. I woke up again last night and again my closet was wide open. I’m driving myself insane because this time I could have sworn I saw a monstrous dark figure stepping out. I managed to get my desk lamp on only to find myself completely alone, seriously the DarkEye is just make-believe. Going back to sleep was hard, but I got a bit of sleep afterward and managed to make it into work on time. My coworkers were being the usual assholes again. College life is just as annoying as usual. My professors must be retarded or drunk because they don’t seem to understand the course material at all.

I need to get a hold of myself. Maybe working and going to school is burning me out. I’ll try to slow down and relax for a bit this weekend. Also, I’m going to sleep with my lamp on tonight just to try and keep the nightmares at bay. This is getting ridiculous…

On the evening of April 12th, 2018 local media reported on the brutal murder of Shelly Mary Jones. In the following weeks, police and investigators used Shelly’s journals as well as the statements of witnesses in her neighborhood to piece together the events leading up to her death in the early hours of April 12th, 2018. Shelly was found by police responding to a 911 call made by concerned neighbors who reported hearing screams emanating from Shelly’s property a few minutes after 3:00 am that morning.

She was discovered lying in a puddle of her own blood in her bedroom. Her body was covered in bruises and multiple lacerations. Evidence discovered on the scene included: A large carving knife, taken from the victims kitchen, a blood-covered baseball bat also belonging to the victim, a cellphone and camera on the outside of the victim’s bedroom window with pictures of the victim taken from the outside of her home, DNA samples on the outside of the victim’s bedroom and bathroom windows, and multiple fingerprints on and around the outside of the victim’s bedroom window.

Witnesses reported hearing screams emanating from Ms. Jones’s home a few minutes after 3:00 am. The neighbor on the east side of Ms. Jones’s property reported hearing a loud crash as if someone knocked over some trash bins. The neighbor on the west side of Ms. Jones’s property was awoken by the sound of screaming and also reported hearing a similar crash that made him step outside in time to see a short man running down the street with a visible wound on his arm trailing blood.

Further investigation proved that the camera and cellphone found on the scene belonged to a man named Sean Caleb Snider. Investigators believe that Mr. Snider had developed an unhealthy obsession with Ms. Jones. Ms. Jones wrote about her suspicions on the very matter in her personal journals. Evidence suggests that Snider allowed his unhealthy obsession to build up to the point in which he began to gain entry into Ms. Jones’s property while she was asleep.

Investigators believe that on the night of the murder, Snider gained entry into her property, retrieved a knife from her kitchen with the intent to assault Ms. Jones in her sleep. A struggle ensued which led to the death of Ms. Jones. It’s believed that the bat and knife found on the scene were both used to assault the victim. The DNA and fingerprints found on the scene of the crime came back as a match to the suspect in question, Sean Caleb Snider.

He was later arrested the same day by police who found him hiding under his bed at his parent’s house. He had sustained a similar injury as described by the neighbor that witnessed Snider fleeing the scene, furthermore, the injury matched the lacerations on the victim’s body. It’s believed that he sustained the wound during the struggle with the victim. The baseball bat must have been a weapon of opportunity.

Snider was arrested and taken to the local hospital to treat his wounds. He has not cooperated with investigators and has shown signs of extreme mental instability.

[gzdude13]

The Real Monster by GZDude13

Connor parked his jeep off to the side of the road and into the overgrown bushes and cut the engine. It was a secluded area in the forest and it was unlikely that anyone would be passing by, but he had to be cautious all the same. He could see the lights of the cabin just 50 yards from where he stood. The night was humid and he could feel a storm coming judging by the pressure he felt in his bones, a brief reminder that he was getting old.

He exited his jeep and immediately walked around to the back to retrieve a loaded ranch rifle and a large ax. His movements were careful and unwavering. There was no hesitation in his actions as he stuffed two more loaded magazines into his pocket just in case. There were seven people that should be renting his cabin at the moment, but knowing college students he could expect anywhere from nine to twelve instead.

He reached over and grabbed a box of chains and locks and finally reached to his side to ensure that he still had his hunting knife sheathed on his belt. Thirty minutes later he used his master key to enter the cabin from the front door. As he expected there were eight college students on winter break inebriated on alcohol and by the smell of marijuana. They were very surprised to see him but made no move to stop him as he turned around and fastened a lock on the door then used his master key to turn a deadbolt.

One of the lodgers finally recognized Connor as the 52-year-old property owner that rented the cabin to them for the week and finally spoke up.

“Mr. Owens, hey what are you-“

“I’m sorry, but none of you will survive this” Connor interrupted.

Using the ranch rifle he shot the four young men that stood up in reaction to his comment. Years of hunting and target practice made his aim true and each shot debilitated or killed the intended target. He then used the ax to finish off the rest of the lodgers. He murdered eight in the living room and found another four in the back rooms. Much like a slasher film he caught the two couples in the middle of sex and had little to no resistance as he hacked them with the ax.

One managed to get out through the window and even made it to her car and attempted to drive away despite the fact that her tires had all been slashed, but when she tried to accelerate her sedan only lurched forward and suddenly stopped with a jerk. Connor was no horror movie villain; he had slashed the tires of every vehicle belonging to his renters then chained their bumpers to heavy poles he cemented into the ground when he renovated the cabin.

An eight-foot-tall heavy rod iron fence surrounded the cabin and the gate leading out was already chained shut. It only took Connor five minutes to chase down and kill his last victim with a well-placed gunshot wound to her head. He had made sure to build his cabin in a section of property that was out of range from cell towers and was secluded enough to openly fire off a gun with no worry of attracting unwanted attention.

He dragged the bodies down to the locked basement of the cabin. The basement was secured by a heavy reinforced steel door locked and hidden behind a bookshelf that actually swung out on hidden hinges. A quick glance at his watch showed that it was nearly 1:00 am. He put on a pot of coffee and went on with the grizzly task of draining the blood from his victims by hanging their corpses upside-down from hooks he installed on the basement ceiling.

By the time the sun started to come up, he had several one-gallon jugs filled with blood and had cleaned up more than half of the blood and gore in the cabin. He worked well into the day and by early evening he was confident he had removed all evidence of their stay at his cabin. The rest of the bodies would be incinerated over the next few days. The vehicles were later loaded up into a trailer, taken to Connor’s junkyard and crushed into unrecognizable twisted cubes of steel.

There was a long list of other chores he had to do in order to cover his tracks, but experience and time had taught him how to disguise his actions and deter suspicion. A week later the news would report the mysterious disappearance of the college students. Connor made the long drive back home with the numerous jugs of blood sitting in sealed coolers with ice.

He parked in his garage and lugged the heavy coolers down into his personal basement lined with ultraviolet lights. He sneezed as he entered another secret room he built and thought to himself that after all these years he was still not used to the heavy smell of the garlic he hung on the walls. He flipped on a dim yellow light to reveal a thin and malnourished 12 year-old girl chained to a steel wall. Her hair was matted and her clothes were stained with years of filth.

Connor looked at her with absolute pity and sadness as he prepared a jug of blood with anticoagulants. On a portable electric stove, he heated the blood to 98 degrees and then poured it into a metal bowl on a tray with a napkin. He then walked up to a painted yellow line in the middle of the room and placed the tray just beyond it.

“Lisa honey, I brought you some more. I know it’s been a few months, but things have been a little difficult.”

The pale thin woman hissed at Connor and flashed him a sharp-toothed snarl. Her two front canines shone bright white and sharp in the dim yellow light. She snatched up the blood and greedily gulped it down. After another three servings, she began to look healthy again and Connor sat down in a metal chair away from her reach in the dim-lit room.

“I saw your mother the other day. She was visiting your grave. We didn’t speak much, but she was leaving you some azaleas. I know how much you use to love those. I can bring you some-“

“Just shut the fuck up, DAD. I’m not your 12-year-old princess anymore, how many times do I have to drill that into your thick skull?! How long has it been? 20 years? When are you going to learn that I’m not getting any better? This shit is getting old, but I’m not. I’d be 32 years-old right now if I wasn’t a vampire!”

Connor only sighed and looked at the creature that used to be his daughter.

“There’s a cure for everything, Lisa. Your mother still thinks you’re dead, but if I can cure you-“

“There is no cure for this shit you stupid fuck! Do you honestly think that bringing me back will undo your divorce?! Mother was already planning on leaving you before I died and would have divorced your crusty ass either way! You want things to go back to the way they were, but mom and I were fucking miserable with our lives! All you did was work work work and complain when things weren’t perfect! My grades were never good enough, mom’s accounting business was a god damn joke to you, and not once did you ever tell us that you loved us you stupid-“

“Lisa, honey this isn’t you. This is the monster talking, I know you’re still in there somewhere and I promise I’m going to fix this-“

“Were you not fucking listening to me?!

“Lisa, you’re just sick, let me help you and I swear things will go back to the way they were!”

“Things are the way they are now because of you! I’m a bloodsucking vampiric bitch because of YOU! I literally want to kill and drink people at night, but this is really YOUR fault. YOU sent me to that bullshit all-girls boarding school in the mountains! Everything you touch turns to shit!”

“That wasn’t my fault!”

“Nothing ever is, is it daddy?! Why couldn’t you have left me to burn with the rest of the girls at the school?! Do you honestly think this is a preferred quality of life living in your basemen drinking second-hand blood? By the way, the blood I drink lets me see the final memories of the people you kill. You’re a cold-blooded stone-faced serial killer!”

Connor stopped listening and began to walk out. He grabbed a remote control from the counter and turned to face his daughter before leaving.

“I’ll leave the television on for you. Try to get some sleep honey.”

He clicked on a television that was barely out of Lisa’s reach and then slowly closed the heavy metal door. Just before it shut he heard Lisa say one more thing.

“Between the two of us who do you think is the real monster, daddy?”

[gzdude13]

The Stalker and the Closet by GZDude13

If you’re reading this then it means I’m already dead… mom, dad… I’m sorry…

Here I am rotting in a jail cell, but despite everything, I am about to admit I want you to know that I am actually not the bad guy in this story. This is not a confession to the brutal murder of Shelly, this is an explanation as to what I know but can’t say in court. I loved Shelly, even though she didn’t really know I existed. That’s why I would follow her to work every day and watch her through her window at night while hiding in the bushes. Yes, that’s creepy, yes, I watched her in her most private moments alone, and yes, I was stalking her in real life and online, but I’ll talk more on that later…

I have to make this absolutely clear… I didn’t hurt her. We first met in high school. I was getting bullied and picked on as usual. I was shorter than the average high schooler and I was a bit more socially awkward than most people, but dammit I was still a fucking person! Shelly Mary Jones was the only person that seemed to know this. She was popular, but not because she was a bitch, or because she flaunted how beautiful she was with her bright red hair and freckled skin. She was popular because she was kind. The only person that was ever kind to me. Besides my parents anyway…

She put an end to my bullying and looked at me as if I was a real person, not like something unpleasant you find under your shoe. I wasn’t very good at talking to girls, shoot I wasn’t very good at talking to people. So naturally, I had no real way I could tell her how I felt for her. So instead I resorted to stalking her. I didn’t start watching her sleep until after we graduated and I learned where she lived when she threw a graduation party at her new house. Her parents gave her a new house as a high school graduation gift. Honestly, she deserved it. She graduated top of our class, you know?

I went to the same local college she did and tried to get the same classes she did just to be close to her. I followed her on social media and found out where she worked and that she was part of a local softball team that played every summer. I attended all of her games. And then I started spying on her at her house… looking through her windows and hiding in the bushes. I know what you’re thinking. I’m a pig, I’m a creep, a disgusting little pervert. Yeah, yeah… I’ve heard it all before. I don’t deny it, but I’m not the one who killed her!

Being her stalker I can confidently say that I knew her better than most people. I noticed that during her last few weeks before… she died… that she seemed slightly off at night. I think she was having nightmares, but I wasn’t sure yet. I planned on sneaking into her house one day and reading her journal, but I never had the guts to do it even though I already knew where she kept her spare key, hidden under a flowerpot in her backyard. One night after Shelly finished her usual routine of having dinner, showering, writing in her journal, then going to bed I stayed and watched her as I always did, only this time I stayed a little bit longer.

As she finished her nightly routine I moved from one window to the next. From the kitchen window on the north side of the house where she prepared and ate dinner to the small east side bathroom window to watch her shower, then to the spare bedroom window just a bit over to watch her walk to her bedroom. All the while she would keep looking over her shoulder. I almost thought she was catching on to me, maybe suspected that someone was watching her, but that wasn’t it. I was too careful, too silent and stealthy. Something seemed off about her and I wish I could have asked her what was bothering her so much. She hadn’t posted anything on any of her social media platforms so this really stood out to me.

When I moved over to her bedroom window in the south side of her house I made sure to take my time getting there. The neighbor’s dog barks if it hears any bit of noise so stealth was absolutely crucial during that transition. The landscapers recently removed one of the bushes in her backyard so it made it easier for me to make my way over quietly. I always made sure to brush away any footprints I left in the dirt every night as I was leaving. When I reached her window I cautiously peered in as I’d done countless times before and saw her searching through her walk-in closet. This was a new part of her routine, or maybe this was something she always did but I never saw it because the bush I mentioned would slow me down too much. Either way, it was strange and out of character for her.

On her nightstand, she now had a flashlight and a kitchen knife and by her bed, there was one of her softball bats. Shelly was scared of something which made me think that maybe she suspected that someone was watching her. But she didn’t check her window, only her closet. She wrote in her journal and would stop from time to time to look up and over to the closed closet door, almost as if she expected someone to be watching her from there. Finally, she closed her journal and put it away in her bedside drawer. I longed to get my hands on it and read her most private thoughts. Maybe she had an older journal, one from high school, maybe she wrote about me in it. I really hope she did.

But that didn’t matter; I stayed by her window and watched her sleep. Usually, I called it quits after midnight or one in the morning. She usually turned out the lights at 10:00 pm sharp, but this time she left her desk lamp on. This was also out of character for her, but honestly, I was very grateful for it. The soft yellow glow of the dim light made it easier to see her beautiful red hair neatly brushed after her shower. It made it easier to snap a few pictures for my collection too. Her fair and freckled skin almost seemed to glow brighter than the light and I could see her beautiful face clearly through my camera lens as she lay there peacefully trying to sleep.

I think she drifted off into deep sleep around 11:15 and by then she had rolled over and the comforter had fallen off. Her desk lamp flickered a little just before midnight as I continued to watch her sleep. She looked so beautiful as she slept, but I could see that she wasn’t sleeping quite so well. She tossed and turned a lot and her face was slightly contorted as if she was having a bad dream. I remember wishing I could climb in through her window and comfort her as she slept, but I knew that wasn’t a good idea. As she tossed and turned her desk lamp flickered a bit more.

She settled and went back to a silent slumber up until a few minutes after 3:00 am. Her blankets now lay on the floor and the desk lamp continued to flicker. Despite the strange strobe effect that her lamp was emitting she remained sound asleep. But something seemed off, something was different in her room. Scanning the area I saw that her closet door was slightly ajar. I’m sure Shelly closed it before bed, in fact, I’m 110% sure she did because she searched it and that was really out of the ordinary for her. I watched in silence trying to find a rational explanation or ounce of doubt as to why the door was now open.

Before my mind could come up with an answer the door opened up a little wider. Even though the desk lamp was flickering on and off it still should have shined some light into her closet. I should have seen her rows of sundresses and flowery shirts from the foot wide open gap in the door. But all I saw was darkness. To my horror though, the next few seconds slowed down into ages as I watched a largely clawed appendage as black as the darkness in that closet itself grip the upper part of the door.

A tall black mass took as step out of her closet. It looked like a solid patch of black smoke with hooved legs and long clawed hands! I should have yelled, I should have taken out my phone and called the police, but instead, I stood there in horror of what I was seeing. There were no eyes on the black smoky mass, but it was obvious that it was looking at Shelly. The strobe light effect made that monster look as if it was teleporting closer and closer to Shelly’s bed. My bladder let go and I felt the warm piss trickle down my leg. It was enough to wake me from my fear paralysis, I had to do something, I had to save Shelly!

I struggled to pull my phone out of my pocket and instead only dropped my camera, then in my panic dropped my phone in the dirt as well. Finally, I did the only thing I could do, I slapped my hands on the window glass hard and Shelly finally stirred from her sleep while the black mass turned in my direction. For the first time, I could see two shiny glints like black fire glass and I knew those were it’s eyes! Eyes that were looking at me now! I think I screamed or maybe it was Shelly’s scream, I don’t know because I ran out of the bushes and around her house. I careened into her trashcans spilling their contents into the street.

I struggled to get back on my feet not caring that I made a ton of noise. The dog was barking and I didn’t know what to do. I ran back to Shelly’s window only to find that it was pitch black, like her closet. She was screaming bloody murder and all I could do was watch! A spark of crazy courage took hold of me and I attempted to open Shelly’s window. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but it didn’t matter. To my surprise her window budged and I was able to pull it up enough to get my hand under and get a better grip. Shelly continued to scream and I could hear an ungodly growling and ripping sound just beneath it.

Just as the window finally gave way and it was wide enough to crawl through those black eyes appeared right at the window. Two clawed arms reached out after me. It happened so fast that at the time I didn’t feel the pain as I yanked my arm away and one of the claws sliced my wrist. This time I know I screamed as I ran away. A few porch lights came on while I ran towards my waiting car at the end of the block. Later on, that very day police came to my parent’s house and raided my room. They found me hiding under my bed, but not because I was hiding from them.

They showed me pictures of the crime scene. My camera and phone were found in Shelly’s backyard just under her bedroom window where I dropped them, my fingerprints were found all over her bedroom window, my shoe prints all around the outside of her house, DNA samples just outside her bathroom window, and blood at her windowsill. I already know my DNA will be a match, but what am I supposed to tell them? I loved Shelly, I couldn’t hurt her, I’d never do anything to harm her. The pictures of the crime scene were a bloody blasphemy on Shelly’s true beauty. The police told me that witnesses saw me running away from her house.

I can’t prove that what I saw was real, but I swear I’m innocent of the crime I’m being accused of. All I did was try to help her! I loved her! You gotta believe me! Whatever it is that killed Shelly is in her closet! It was the monster in her closet! I swear it wasn’t me! I didn’t do it! I didn’t hurt Shelly!

I think I can see those same black glints of evil in the shadows now. I made a noose from my blankets and I plan on ending my life before it comes for me too. I’m sorry mom and dad. I know I’m a disappointment to you both…

[gzdude13]

Annual Christmas Gift and Tradition by GZDude13

My name is Stanley Erickson, and every year on Christmas Eve I visit the charred remains of my old home. Almost exactly 13 years ago on Christmas morning my wife and parents-in-law died in a blazing inferno. The local news reported the event as a tragic Christmas disaster. I was the only survivor of the day’s events.

Every year I bring a plate of homemade snickerdoodle cookies, my wife’s favorite. I still remember her screams of agony as the flames consumed her and the sound of the in-laws as they pounded on their own door which had become stuck after the heat warped the frame. The flames spread so fast that smoke inhalation didn’t grant my family the mercy of an unconscious death.

I managed to make it out of the house in time to watch the second floor collapse into the floor below it. The house was ancient and was in the process of being renovated. Faulty outdated wiring and antiquated gas lines could have been at fault, but the damage was so complete that it was near impossible to truly know what started the fire.

The old wood and semi repaired roof provided the perfect conditions for the fire to burn without interruption. It was an agonizing and painful way to die on a day that means so much joy for so many people. Maybe this is why the yearly events happen now. The first year after the fire I visited the burned skeletal remains of the lonely house in the countryside.

I stood amongst the wreckage and remembered the events of that night. A light fog covered the rubble and reminded me of the smoky air when the fire department finally put out the smoldering remains of my home. I drew the image of my lovely wife in her nightgown in my mind and remembered what she looked like as she lay in bed that night.

Almost as if to answer my imagined image I saw the slender figure of a woman in a nightgown standing in the ruble. Her face was in her hands and the faint sound of crying began to reach my ears. I approached the figure and was shocked to find my wife as I remembered her that dark and fiery Christmas morning.

It didn’t take long for me to figure out that my wife’s spirit returns to the charred remains of our old home every year on Christmas morning between the hour of midnight and three AM. And so I have chosen not to rebuild or even remove the burned remains of the old house. Instead I bring her favorite cookies and wait for her to arrive.

As usual her spirit appeared amongst the dark remains of the house and as usual she cried at the pain of having suffered and died the way that she did. I slowly approached her with the cookies in hand and when I was within arm’s reach I finally called her name. She stopped crying and slowly turned to look at me. Her tear stricken face was still as beautiful and as young as I remembered her.

The sadness in her eyes cleared away when they met mine and the sorrow in her face quickly twisted into hate and anger. I smiled as she lunged out at me and attempted to strangle me with hands that could no longer grasp. I gloated at her misery as I shoved one of her favorite cookies into my mouth, a pleasure she would never enjoy again.

Christmas really is a magical time of year. I feared that I would only enjoy murdering my wife and her annoying parents that one time, but fortune has smiled on me and I have returned every year to witness her pain firsthand. I couldn’t ask for a better annual Christmas gift and tradition.

[gzdude13]

Christmas Letter by GZDude13

My name is Mary and this is my story when I was only nine years old.

I remember when I was an only child. My parents gave me all the attention and affection. Birthdays were always so great and for Christmas I always got what I asked for. But then he came along. Jeremy, my little brother. For three years he got most of the attention and all the better parties. I was no longer the pretty princess anymore, no longer the center of attention; I was just the big sister with responsibilities…

So I wrote a letter to Santa that year without the help of mommy or daddy. Usually they helped me spell the words right, but I knew Santa could understand what I would ask for even if I didn’t spell the words right. I used my best colored pencils and even wrote it on the fancy paper my mommy used to write letters to grandma.

I took my time and made the words as nice as possible then carefully folded my finished letter and put it in an envelope. I thought my mommy was coming up stairs so I rushed to put the address on the envelope before she saw what I was doing, but instead she went into Jeremy’s room. I should have known that my mommy and daddy were too busy with my little brother to notice me so it was easy for me to sneak outside and put my letter in the mailbox.

The next few weeks were the best. I didn’t mind that Jeremy got all the attention. I would wear my nice Christmas dresses and was on my best behavior, but no one seemed to care. They would after Christmas. After Christmas I would be my family’s little princess again.

On Christmas day I woke up to the sound of mommy screaming and the smell of burnt matches and rotten eggs… I ran downstairs and found mommy and daddy crying. Daddy was on the phone talking to police while mommy cried hysterically while clutching a blood covered teddy bear. It used to be my teddy until daddy gave it to Jeremy, and now it was covered in blood.

The Christmas tree was knocked over and the presents were all stomped and smooshed and broken. The cookies left out for Santa were all gone and the glass of milk looked like it was smashed against the wall. But most importantly my little brother was gone. His crib was empty except for a bit of blood. I walked over to the wrecked tree and on the ground I found my crumpled up letter.

I hid it from my parents and to this day I still have it… now that I’m all grown up I can see my mistake… spelling counts for everything, including letters to Santa Claus…

Dear Satan,

I have bean a verry gud girl this year. But my mommy and daddy dont love me the same way they did when my little borther Jeremy wasnt here. So this year I dont want any presents. Please just take Jeremy away. All he does is cry and poop and take my family away from me.

Love Mary

P.S. I am leving you milk and cookees this year because I know you like them.

The envelope itself was addressed to: Satans Workshop From: Mary. Be careful what you wish for and who you wish it from because you just might get it.

[gzdude13]

The Krampus is Coming to Town by GZDude13

What is the true meaning of Christmas? Well, most people will tell you something along the lines of family, religious beliefs, and of course Santa Claus. Everyone knows who Santa Claus is. The jolly fat man that brings you gifts if you’ve been good all year. More importantly however, Santa Claus is the goodness that comes from people, the true positive Christmas spirit. He is whatever good comes from this holiday season.

For me however, the meaning of Christmas is a much darker subject. For every bit of good there will always be an equal side of evil. Santa Claus is the good, and I am everything that is evil with the season. I’m not saying I’m the worst person in the history of humanity, but I’m certainly no angel. Yeah, I’ve done some bad things in my life, but nothing even closely similar to the atrocities done by men like Hitler or Stalin.

As it turns out there is a real Santa, he just doesn’t travel around the world delivering gifts, he travels around the world spreading Christmas cheer and random acts of kindness through other people. Likewise the shadow of Santa Claus wanders the earth to punish those that deserve it the most. This evil goes by the name of Krampus.

Now hear me out here, this may sound farfetched, but the Krampus is real and he works through me. As I’ve said before, I am no angel, but I’m really not all that bad. Sure, I’ve spent some time in prison for theft and assault, but I’ve never killed anyone… intentionally…

It happened one lonely Christmas eve. I was dressed up as Santa for some Christmas gig I was doing to try and make a few extra bucks for some booze, but ended up getting kicked out because I was already drunk.

Pissed off and not really feeling the Christmas spirit I decided to break into the local big church with the giant shiny gold cross and take from the communal wine, maybe borrow some cash from the collection box. I figured they had money for an oversized shiny gold colored cross so a little wine and cash shouldn’t hurt them too much.

While struggling to drunkenly break open the latch on the money box I thought I heard something coming from the back room where the priest does his thing prior to the service. The distraction made me drop the collection box, which finally busted open to reveal a measly $13, and I knew the sound would get the attention of whoever was in the church.

I ducked behind one of the first row pews just as I heard a door open from somewhere in the back. I peered out in time to see an old man in a bathrobe wander out and look at the fallen collection box.

“Rickety old piece of shit!” I heard him say.

Multiple questions ran through my head. Clearly this was the priest, but did he live in the church? Why else was he in a bathrobe? Did he seriously just curse out loud? What the hell is going on? I looked past him towards the back and saw the light from the open door. It was the room clearly marked “Clergy” and from my vantage point I could see a bed and a small figure in it…

Something came over me at that moment, a deep seeded anger that didn’t feel like my own. The figure in the bed was a crying child. His innocence had been ripped away from him by a man that was supposed to represent everything that is good. Somehow I gained the memories of the priest and saw everything.

I saw all of his filthy secrets, all of his lies, all of his misdeeds and how he got away with them… then I heard a voice, the voice of something so evil that had I not said yes to what it offered me I knew I would fall victim to it. The spirit of Krampus lives in all of us, but it can only take control of those who hold darkness in their hearts.

I don’t remember much, but I remember towering over the frail old man, I remember reaching for him with clawed hands, I remember running from one rooftop to another with hooved feet, and I remember the screams of many more that followed after.

Krampus speaks to me every year now, I can let go of the spirit and allow it to enter someone else, let the hate and anger spill over into the hearts of dark minded individuals, but I won’t let it. I keep it tucked away deep inside my soul and I keep away from everyone every holiday season.

I never really did anything good for anyone before and my life has really been nothing more than a waste, but if everyone else can be the good and the light of Christmas then I will be the darkness. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold him back though; there sure are a lot of people on the naughty list this year…

So let me just warn you now…

He's making a list and checking it twice Gonna find out who's naughty and nice He sees you when you're sleeping He knows when you're a wake He knows if you've been bad or good So be good for goodness sake The Krampus is coming to town