Stories
The Haunting Hour
I sprint along the the cracked pavement as fear clenches my insides in an icy grip, and a moonbeam spills over a patch of ground like acid. I skirt around it, not even risking to touch it now, it is far too close to midnight, far too close to The Haunting Hour. I feel like kicking myself. “Why did I stay so late at work? Why didn't I go home early like everyone else and board up the windows, lock the doors and get ready for The Nightmare Night? Never mind. I can think about that later, but right now I need to get to my house immediately, it's literally life or death. I see my house at the end of the block, and I run even harder, my legs are cramping and giving out. I know can't fall, because if I do, I won't get up. My long blond hair whips in my face stinging my eyes, my vision blurs and I begin to have a flashback as I streak towards my safe haven, my only hope.
I’m five years old and I hear my mom's voice echoing inside my head. “Once a year for one night, one hour our worst nightmares become real, all the legends and myths, all the monsters become non fiction, you must not leave the house, sara. You must listen to me! Do not listen to the voices outside in the dark, or the shrieks of terror. They are not real people, they are demons and you can not help them. They do not want help, they just want to lure you out and destroy you.” My mom always told me the truth, even if it was frightening. She used to say, “ The truth can be harsh, but it's better than being stuck in a lie where everything is perfect.” That's what she said before she disappeared.
I jolt back to reality just as I put my hand on the handle of my doorknob, I twist, of course it's locked. I reach under the carpet as my hands fumble, reaching for the key. “Come, on come!” I yell. I am becoming frantic with every empty grasp. I finally touch the rough metal and I hastily jam it into the keyhole and turn, “crap!” My hands are shaking, and I can't get the key in, the piece of metal falls to the ground as I move to pick it up my knees scrape the cement, and I hear the gong of the bell, the sound of the beginning of my end.
12 o clock, the nightmares begin. My hope falls further with every pound of my heart, I failed, I might as well be dead. That's when I hear the first noises of the predators and for once I’m the prey. A high pitched laughter pierces the silence, I’m petrified with fear, and I cannot move. Ghastly monsters prowl the streets. But my attention is fixed on a small porcelain skinned girl who appears. She would of seemed innocent enough, if not for the red eyes and the odd chanting. She begins to draw a circle and symbols with chalk on the ground, her tattered gown swirls around her. My shaking legs walk towards her without my consent. I feel as if I’m under water as I say in an eerie voice “What are you doing, child?” she giggles and says in an oddly wise voice “I’ve been sent here to make a portal.” I reply “Why?” but, with a feeling of dread I know what she going to say before she utters a single creepy word. “ Well, isn't it obvious”, she chirps,” I’m here to bring you home,... to hell.”
At first I was very apprehensive about writing a horror story, I was never really a good story writer and horror stories were out of my comfort zone. But once I started writing I began to enjoy the story and writing something less happy go lucky than usual. I was very happy with my end product ad I liked the idea of doing this story around Halloween it really helped me write a better story about such a subject.
I sprint along the the cracked pavement as fear clenches my insides in an icy grip, and a moonbeam spills over a patch of ground like acid. I skirt around it, not even risking to touch it now, it is far too close to midnight, far too close to The Haunting Hour. I feel like kicking myself. “Why did I stay so late at work? Why didn't I go home early like everyone else and board up the windows, lock the doors and get ready for The Nightmare Night? Never mind. I can think about that later, but right now I need to get to my house immediately, it's literally life or death. I see my house at the end of the block, and I run even harder, my legs are cramping and giving out. I know can't fall, because if I do, I won't get up. My long blond hair whips in my face stinging my eyes, my vision blurs and I begin to have a flashback as I streak towards my safe haven, my only hope.
I’m five years old and I hear my mom's voice echoing inside my head. “Once a year for one night, one hour our worst nightmares become real, all the legends and myths, all the monsters become non fiction, you must not leave the house, sara. You must listen to me! Do not listen to the voices outside in the dark, or the shrieks of terror. They are not real people, they are demons and you can not help them. They do not want help, they just want to lure you out and destroy you.” My mom always told me the truth, even if it was frightening. She used to say, “ The truth can be harsh, but it's better than being stuck in a lie where everything is perfect.” That's what she said before she disappeared.
I jolt back to reality just as I put my hand on the handle of my doorknob, I twist, of course it's locked. I reach under the carpet as my hands fumble, reaching for the key. “Come, on come!” I yell. I am becoming frantic with every empty grasp. I finally touch the rough metal and I hastily jam it into the keyhole and turn, “crap!” My hands are shaking, and I can't get the key in, the piece of metal falls to the ground as I move to pick it up my knees scrape the cement, and I hear the gong of the bell, the sound of the beginning of my end.
12 o clock, the nightmares begin. My hope falls further with every pound of my heart, I failed, I might as well be dead. That's when I hear the first noises of the predators and for once I’m the prey. A high pitched laughter pierces the silence, I’m petrified with fear, and I cannot move. Ghastly monsters prowl the streets. But my attention is fixed on a small porcelain skinned girl who appears. She would of seemed innocent enough, if not for the red eyes and the odd chanting. She begins to draw a circle and symbols with chalk on the ground, her tattered gown swirls around her. My shaking legs walk towards her without my consent. I feel as if I’m under water as I say in an eerie voice “What are you doing, child?” she giggles and says in an oddly wise voice “I’ve been sent here to make a portal.” I reply “Why?” but, with a feeling of dread I know what she going to say before she utters a single creepy word. “ Well, isn't it obvious”, she chirps,” I’m here to bring you home,... to hell.”
At first I was very apprehensive about writing a horror story, I was never really a good story writer and horror stories were out of my comfort zone. But once I started writing I began to enjoy the story and writing something less happy go lucky than usual. I was very happy with my end product ad I liked the idea of doing this story around Halloween it really helped me write a better story about such a subject.