#southern gothic horror | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gothicallybright · 23 days ago

Text

SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH THIS TOWN (1)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

you moved into a town by the countryside in hopes of a fresh new start, but something's wrong with that town. a southern gothic inspired horror story split into two parts.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

𓆩♡𓆪 A/N 𓆩♡𓆪

first and foremost, thank you all for the kind words i've received and the insane amount of support on my work. i'm happy to take all your requests and/or thoughts, from the bottom of my heart thank you. had to split this story into two parts because 7k words into one post is a bit too much. part 2 very very soon. 𓆩♡𓆪

The blistering summer sun scorched the air as you stepped off the bus and onto the dusty street. The heat seemed to slam into you like a wall, and you could practically feel the sweat already beginning to pool on your back. You squinted against the brightness, taking in your new surroundings. To the west, the town of Granville stretched out, a jumble of old, faded buildings and squat, sprawling houses. This was your new home, whether you liked it or not.

You had grown tired of the never-ending drama and family issues back home. The constant fighting and the feeling of suffocation were too much to bear. So, you made the decision to pack your bags and escape to Granville, hoping to find a sense of peace and solitude in the small town. You had heard tales about Granville from the locals, who spoke proudly about the town's close-knit community and picturesque landscapes. They mentioned the quaint, old storefronts lining the main street, the gentle babbling of the river just outside of town, and the towering mountains that encircled the town, providing a backdrop of breathtaking beauty. These words had painted a picture of Granville as the perfect small town - a place to escape from the troubles of the world and find comfort and peace, which is exactly what you were looking for.

As you approached your new home, you found yourself moving further and further away from the town itself, making your way into the peaceful quiet of the countryside. The trees grew thicker and more tangled as you walked, their leaves rustling in the faint breeze. Finally, you reached your new home - a small, typical country house that sat at the edge of the tree line.

Approaching the door, you were relieved to see the landlord waiting to greet you, until you got a closer look at him. The landlord who stood at the door was a gruff-looking, old man with a rugged, scruffy appearance. His rough, leathery skin was marred with wrinkles, and his long, stringy hair was partially covered by a battered old cowboy hat. His clothes were just as rough and worn as his demeanor, consisting of a faded flannel shirt, jeans, and heavy work boots. He had the quintessential redneck look, with his rugged features and dusty boots.

''Hey.'' He simply said, his voice crackled with a raspy, grumbling quality that only a true country man could possess. Even with this simple word, you could hear the thick southern accent. ''Don't see many women 'round here in the good ol' Granville.'' He continued, with a toothpick in his mouth, swirling it from side to side as he spoke. You laughed awkwardly.

''Here.'' He handed you the keys to your new home and walked past you, down the road back into town. Before he had gone too far, he turned to you. ''Don't go out late at night… Coyotes like hangin' 'round here.'' You were taken aback by this. No one mentioned any coyotes or wildlife near your new house, but you just shook your head. You are going to be living on the edge of the tree line after all.

Upon entering the small country house, you found yourself in a modest but comfortable space. The floor was made of old, scuffed hardwood that creaked slightly beneath your footsteps, and the walls were a soft, muted beige color. There was a small kitchen area off to one side, and a living room with a worn but cozy sofa and a small television. The furniture was old and somewhat mismatched, but the house still had a quaint, homey feel to it. You smiled to yourself. This is perfect! You entered the small, cozy living room and sat down your belongings, taking a moment to look around the space. The room was filled with an old-fashioned charm, with its worn but comfortable furniture and the faint smell of woodsmoke lingering in the air like a warm, familiar embrace. A small fireplace sat in one corner, a stack of dry logs stacked nearby. As you stood there, a sense of peace washed over you. The stresses and worries of the past seemed to melt away in the warm, familiar surroundings.

You plopped on the couch, an euphoric feeling creeping in. You spent years of your life losing sleep over your family's constant fighting. You lived with the desire to just get out of your town and live somewhere as perfect as Granville is. Your wish finally came true, and that bombarded you with happiness. You began laughing out loud, like you've completely lost your mind, but you didn't care. You were finally free.

With the stress of moving behind you, you decided to take it easy for the rest of the day. You unpacked your belongings, taking your time to find the perfect place for everything in your new home. You opened the windows to let in some fresh air, the warm summer breeze bringing with it the soft, earthy scent of the countryside. You explored the house from top to bottom, moving from room to room to familiarize yourself with its layout. Before you've done everything you wanted to do, evening already started slowly covering the sky. Feeling strangely at peace in the new surroundings, you sat on the front porch, watching the sun dip below the horizon, the sky exploding in a brilliant display of oranges and pinks before slowly fading to darkness. Even with the sun long gone, you continued to sit on the single chair on the porch, looking out at the darkened countryside, listening to the distant sound of cicadas and the faint hooting of owls. For the first time, you went to sleep without a heavy heart.

2:00AM. You were abruptly awoken by a sudden, persistent noise in the night. You blinked your eyes open, for a moment disoriented and confused. The room was pitch black, and the only sound was your own breathing, shallow and rapid with a touch of fear. You lay there for a moment, listening intently, your ears slowly starting to identify the source of the noise that had woken you up. It was coming from outside, but you didn't know exactly what it was. Without better judgement, you slipped on your night shoes and went outside. Standing on the front porch, your heart began racing slightly as a weird sense of dread filled you. You felt watched, exposed. The night was eerily silent, the air thick and stifling. You couldn't see much in the inky darkness, but you strained your eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything, that might explain the strange noise that had woken you up. Then, a sound, just at the edge of the tree line shook you to your core. Something or someone was laughing. It sounded like it was right behind your house. You stood there, petrified, listening… And listening.

Until, it hit you. Coyotes. You remember the landlord's words. Coyotes like to hang out here. You sighed heavily, breathing out the stress that nearly choked you. Returning to the safety of the house, you climbed back into bed and quickly fell into a peaceful slumber.

The next morning, you were woken up by the soft, golden sunlight that streamed through the windows, casting its warm glow across the room. Sitting up in bed, you stretched your arms above your head and let out a soft yawn, feeling surprisingly well rested despite the brief… scare you had experienced the night before. Your mouth felt dry and parched after a long night's sleep, and you decided to get a glass of water from the kitchen. You climbed out of bed, your feet making soft, muffled thuds on the wooden floor as you made your way to the kitchen area.

With a yawn, you turned on the kitchen sink and filled the glass with water. As you were drinking, your gaze was focused on something in the grass, just by the entrance to the woods. You put the glass down and decided to go check it out, but not before changing into your day clothes and shoes. You were planning to take a walk to town anyway.

You stepped outside, feeling the soft, cool grass beneath your feet, even through the thin material of your shoes. The blades of grass felt almost velvety, still damp with the morning dew. You took a moment to appreciate the sensation, feeling grounded and connected to the natural world around you. Walking towards the unidentified object in the grass, closer to the woods, the thick trees towered overhead, their branches interlocking to form a dense canopy that blocked out much of the sunlight, creating a cool and shady atmosphere within the woods. The undergrowth was thick and tangled, the leaves and branches creating a wall of foliage. You heard flies buzzing around the strange, shapeless mass in the grass, and a sense of foreboding washed over you. You stepped closer to the object, your heart racing as you tried to make out what it was in the tall grass.

Taking one more step closer to the object, you could see the gruesome truth of the situation. It was a decapitated deer, its head and body separated from each other. The flesh was already starting to stiffen and cool, the warm pink of fresh blood turning to a sickly pale gray. Insects had already begun their work, small black beetles crawling over the exposed innards. Maggots wriggled in the eye sockets and nasal cavity. Blood was pooled around the neck stump with the head resting a few feet away, the eyes glassy and lifeless, mouth agape. The body was still intact below the neck - four limbs splayed out, each hoof caked in dirt and dried blood. The fur was matted and tangled with leaves and twigs and the white underside was splattered with dark crimson.

You felt your stomach churn with nausea. No way coyotes did this. The cut was too clean. Something's wrong. If those weren't coyotes, who was laughing behind your house last night? Suddenly, you felt vulnerable, unsafe. The trees hovered over you, the darkness ahead almost like it was reaching towards you. The fear was eating you alive and you were frozen, staring into the pitch black woods. Something inside you snapped and you were flinched out of the trance. The deer was too much of a gruesome sight, so you decided to bury it.

You went into the shed, looked everywhere, even went through every room in the house, but for the love of god you couldn't find a shovel. You sighed, the thought of going to town to buy a shovel on your second day here was sure to leave a great first impression of you!

As you made your way down the hill, you realized just how far away you truly are from other people. You felt eerie and isolated, vulnerable. The thick trees on the sides of the road blocked out most of the sunlight, and the only sounds were the faint tweeting of birds and the occasional rustling of leaves. The darkness of the forest seemed to press in on you, and you found yourself looking over your shoulder frequently, half-expecting to see something following you.

You finally emerged from the thick road, the open, wide-spreading fields of the country giving way to the dusty, narrow streets of town. The town was small, consisting of only a few buildings and storefronts. The air was strangely hushed, as if the whole town was holding its breath. It was quiet… maybe too quiet. A chill rushed through your body, hitting every single one of your nerves. The streets were eerily deserted, with not a soul in sight. The few buildings and storefronts that lined the streets were all closed, their windows boarded up as if they had been abandoned for some time. This scene was the complete opposite of what the locals were telling about Granville. Something's wrong with this town.

You walked cautiously down the narrow streets. The few people you passed seemed to give you suspicious glances, their faces cold and unwelcoming. Not a single person greeted you as you passed, adding to the strange feel of the town. Finally, you spotted a small store in the distance. Its windows were cracked and dirty, and the sign above the door was faded and illegible. As you entered the small, dimly lit store, the cashier behind the counter gave you a strange look. He was a scruffy, unkempt man with greasy hair and a perpetual scowl on his face.

You approached the counter, feeling slightly uneasy at the cashier's look. You tried to ignore his expression and asked for a shovel. The cashier regarded you for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to read you. Finally, he grunted and moved to a small section of tools in the corner of the store. He returned a moment later with a large shovel, setting it down on the counter with a loud thunk. You reached into your pockets, fingers shaking slightly as you placed the bills on the counter. He wordlessly scooped up the bills and counted them, his movements slow and deliberate.

There was a long, long pause as he counted the money, his gaze still fixated on you. Staring intently at you, piercing into your eyes. The cashier finally finished counting the money and grunted, stuffing the bills into the register. He slid the shovel across the counter towards you, the metal scraping loudly against the wood. He then disappeared into the back room, leaving you alone in this silent, eerie store.

You left the store, the shovel in hand. The town was still eerily quiet, the few people you had seen before seeming to have vanished. Your footsteps echoed loudly in the silence, the sound unnaturally sharp in the still air. As you walked through the silent town, a group of people sitting in front of a closed down storefront caught your eye. They were speaking in hushed, urgent tones, and you realized with a start that they were whispering about you. They were saying something about you having a shovel and how that's really strange.

You expected something like that, you're new after all. You decided to wave at them. For some reason, you decided to wave at them. You waved, the shovel gripped tight in your hand. The gesture felt absurd, waving a large metal tool at a group of people who seemed to be watching you. Upon seeing you waving at them with the shovel in hand, the group of people sitting in front of the storefront suddenly got scared. They quickly got up and left, their faces pale and their footsteps hurried. You silently watched them go, feeling confused.

You continued to stroll around the small town, watching as the dusk took over the blue sky and painted it orange. It seemed like, as the light faded, the town seemed to take on a decidedly sinister atmosphere, the shadows deepening and the air taking on a chill. The same chill that has been following you around since your childhood days. You were aware of that. It felt like there was something inside you, clawing at you. To stop the feeling, you would scratch your arm until the skin ripped and blood started forming. Until it physically burned to even put a finger on your arm. Sometimes you really wanted to peel your skin off.

As darkness continued to spread, you decided it was time to go home. Scratching your arm with the hand that also held the shovel, you slowly walked up the hill. The shadows of the trees stretched out across the path ahead, their shapes twisting and contorting in the faint moonlight, their branches silhouetted against the sky like dark, gnarled fingers. The air was cool and still, the only sound being the sound of your shoes hitting the cold pavement and the occasional breeze passing through the leaves. You felt strangely at peace, your hand glued to your arm, digging into the flesh.

You crested the hill, your house coming into view. The familiar outline of the small house stood in the shadows, swallowed by darkness. You felt a sense of relief as you approached your house, glad to be away from the weird town. Then, you remembered the reason you went into town in the first place. The dead deer at the edge of the tree line. You gripped the shovel tight in your hand and made your way towards the tall grass in which it lay dead. You made your way towards the darkened woods, the shadows stretching and shifting around you.

Your heart sank as you approached the spot where the dead deer had been earlier. The grass was still flattened and matted where the deer had laid, but the animal itself was nowhere to be seen. You tried to come up with logical explanations for the disappearance of the deer. But no matter how much you tried, you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something's deeply wrong. Your hands began to shake violently and you lost your grip on the shovel. It fell to the ground with a dull thud, the metallic sound loud in the silent woods. Your mind began racing, your eyes darting from one part of the woods to another. You felt completely exposed. You were all alone, surrounded by the darkened woods. Then, like your arm had a magnet attached to its bone, your hand glued itself to your arm again, moving up and down fast as your nails dug into your flesh.

You slowly left the tall grass, making your way back to the front porch of the house. You sat on the same chair you were sitting at the previous evening, your eyes empty and dull, staring into nothingness as your hand continued to move up and down against your arm. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths and letting the sounds of the night take over. The cool night air slowly began to soothe your frazzled nerves, your hand slowly letting go of your arm, finally relaxing on your lap. You felt peace taking a hold of your mind, but the sudden twig snap from the woods made your head turn towards that direction.

Your body stiffened and straightened up as you tried to pinpoint the source of the sound. The woods surrounding your house fell silent again, the only sound being the faint whisper of the breeze through the trees. You strained your ears, listening intently for any further noises or signs of movement in the woods. Then, there it was. Another twig snap. And then another. Something was moving through the woods, its movements slow and deliberate. Your eyes widened as you realized that whatever was approaching was walking on all fours, its weight causing the leaves underneath its feet to crunch softly. The sound was getting closer and closer with each passing second and it caused your fear to go over the roof.

Subsequently, the thing was close enough for you to identify it. It was that decapitated deer, creeping towards you, its four legs moving with a strange, jerky motion. You watched in horror as the deer walked closer. Nausea washed over you as you came face-to-face with something that should not be possible. You quickly snapped out of your horrified trance and swiftly got up from the chair and rushed inside the house, your hands shaking as you fumbled to lock the door. Your heart was racing, and your breath was coming in shallow, panicked gasps. You stood there for a moment, your back against the door, trying to process what you had just seen.

A sudden knock at the door made you jump. You started slowly backing away from the door, horrified. What is going on? What's happening? Questions raced through your mind as your hand began scratching your arm with painful force, tearing bits of your flesh.

''Hello?'' A soft, gentle woman's voice came from the other side of the door. You let go of your arm, coming closer to the door, listening… and listening. She knocked again, making you flinch. You decided to open the door, heart racing. You were met with blue eyes staring back at you.

Standing on your porch, in front of you, was a woman with long, reddish-colored curls spilling over her shoulders and a flowing white dress that reached down to her feet. The strange woman smiled at you. ''Hello!'' She said with a smile. You were so confused you didn't know what to even say back to her. Your eyes started slowly dropping to the shovel clutched in the woman's hand, the same shovel you had dropped earlier. She noticed that your gaze was fixated somewhere else other than her eyes. ''Oh! You dropped that earlier, thought you wanted it back.'' She handed you the shovel, still smiling. The reality of this whole situation hit you like a bullet suddenly. Dead of night, all alone surrounded by woods and this random woman was standing at your front door now, smiling at you.

#chappell roan #lesbian #wlw #chappell roan x reader #fem reader #wlw post #wlw story #southern gothic #old house #southern gothic horror #horror stories

14 notes · View notes