Penny's Tales

Horror stories, narrations and illustrations by Penny Tailsup
Penny's Tales
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    • Short Christmas Horror Story – Carol’s Christmas Cookies

      Posted at 6:39 pm by Penny Tailsup, on December 24, 2019

      Listen to the narration here! 

       

      Today was the annual holiday potluck. My office doesn’t really do parties, but every occasion gets a potluck;  it’s business as usual except everyone brings food. We work while stuffing ourselves silly. Nothing like working through a stomach ache, right? It’s always a game of food poisoning roulette. 

      Since I was the first one in, I was expected to do the basic set-up. Dutifully, I cleared off the sorting table and got the coffee going. I expected to spend the first thirty minutes of my shift in peace, but it wasn’t to be. The phone started to ring. 

      It’s too early for this, I thought. I answered anyway, putting on my best customer-service voice. At this hour most customers hadn’t had their coffee yet so answering the phone was a crap-shoot. Fortunately, it was only Carol. 

      “Thank god you answered. Can you let me in? My arms are full!”  She always brought enough baked goods for everyone to have seconds and thirds, it was one of the few things I looked forward to.

      “I’ll be right over! Hold on.” I hung up and hurried over to the employee entrance. I yanked open the door and found Carol standing there with a heaping stack of tupperware in her arms. The scent of gingerbread hung around her like a warm Christmas perfume, sweet and inviting.  

      “Let me help you with that. You tried to get it all in one trip, huh?” I carefully grabbed a few of the containers, making sure not to tip them over and walking with her inside. Carol smiled appreciatively, relieved she could finally set everything down.

      I took a peek at the goodies; as expected, gingerbread cookies!  Gingerbread office workers, each one bigger than my hand and intricately detailed. 

      “What do you think?” she asked, puffing out her chest with pride. “I made one for everyone in the office! After I pass these out, I’m out of here though. I’m not working today but I wanted to make sure everyone got theirs.” 

      “Wow!” I admired her handiwork. It only took me a moment to realize that the gingerbread cookies were modeled after our co-workers. I looked eagerly for the one she’d made of me, but I didn’t see one. “These must have taken you forever to make, the details are perfect. No one can top these.” suddenly my crock-pot of meatballs seemed a lot less exciting. Oh well, it wasn’t a competition. As if I could beat Carol’s Christmas cookies!

      By then, my phone started to ring so I hurried back to my desk. I watched Carol pass out her cookies with care, placing them on desks atop pretty poinsettia plates. 

      “Are you going to be open on Christmas?” the customer asked the second I picked up. No hello, only a shrill inquiry. 

      “No, but we will be open as usual on the 26th.” I answered. 

      “What do you mean you won’t be open on Christmas? What if I need help right away? I’ll have to wait?” I gave my scripted answer to the angry customer, distracted and deadpan. By the time the call was done, Carol came over with a smile, bringing the very last cookie over to me. 

      “I’d say it’s too pretty to eat, except he was never really a looker was he?” she said.  I looked down at the gingerbread man. It wasn’t me, it was our boss, Dale.

      “This one’s mine?” I asked tentatively, definitely confused. Maybe there was a mistake? 

      “Of course! How many opportunities do you get to bite your boss’s head off? I wanted to give you the honor.” if Carol sensed my disappointment, she didn’t let on. I looked down at the cookie again, a dense gingerbread man in a cheap suit. Even though the suit had been made with glaze and frosting , I had that impression; cheap, ill-fitting, and grey.  A perfect replica of one of his two suits with a garish Christmas tie. 

      “As long as it doesn’t taste like Dale.” I laughed. To be honest, as perfectly made as the cookie was, I didn’t find it appetizing. Well, I did. It smelled amazing! But there was something off-putting about eating a cookie shaped like someone else, especially Dale.  Then again, it would be just as weird to eat one that looked like me. Cookie cannibalism.

       “You didn’t give him one that looks like me, right?” I shuddered. Now that would be creepy. Dale was a real piece of work, but I had to tolerate him if I wanted to keep my job.

      “Of course not.” Carol assured me. “Could you do me a favor? Wait until everyone else gets in before you eat it. I want everyone to see. I wish I could see the looks on their faces. You’ll tell me, won’t you?”

      “Sure.” I slid the gingerbread away from me. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was going to eat it or not, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Maybe if I scraped off the decorations first? That seemed equally rude, though.

      “When you eat gingerbread cookies, are you the kind of person to go for the head… or the arms and legs first? Or maybe you pull off the decorations one-by-one?” she asked suddenly; Carol wasn’t looking at me when she asked, she was looking towards Dale’s office.

      What a weird question! Especially coming from her. When she saw the look on my face, Carol laughed  and patted my shoulder. “Sorry, I was just having a funny thought. There’s a little sadist in everyone, isn’t there?”

      “Excuse me?” 

      Grabbing her empty Tupperware, Carol gave me a wink and wished me a Merry Christmas. She left, leaving me alone in the office. I kept eyeing the Gingerbread Dale, still feeling a bit weird about it. Weird, but also…  hungry. The cookies smelled divine, which was odd considering I’d never been a huge fan of gingerbread.

      About ten minutes later, the rest of my co-workers trickled in. They complained about how tired they were, morning traffic, and the holidays. Of course, the bellyaching became exclamations of delight when they discovered the cookies set neatly on their desks. 

      Everyone started showing one another their cookies and taking pictures, marveling at the perfect detail. Patti’s cookie had her trademark beehive up-do and pearls, Marc’s cookie was bearded with squared glasses, Bette’s had electric blue eye shadow and dimples… though the outfits weren’t an exact match, the resemblances were uncanny. Eventually, the clamor died down and everyone sat at their desks. All except Patti, who scurried over to my desk with a wide smile.

      “I didn’t see yours.” she said, showing me hers for the second time. She carried her plate proudly in both hands, like she was presenting a piece of art. To be fair, Carol’s work really was exquisite… I just didn’t like Patti.

      Patti’s eyes moved to the plate I’d set away from me. My cookie wasn’t like everyone else’s, which suddenly seemed like a problem.  “Oh. It looks like Dale… Is it yours?” she scrunched her face at me, somehow managing to keep the smile. I didn’t like her insinuation.

      “Yes, it’s mine.”

      Did she really think I’d scarfed down my cookie and stole another one off my boss’s desk?  Really? 

      “Why doesn’t it look like you, then?” Oh yes, the insinuation was still there. A bitter anger spread across my tongue, but I fought to keep my voice level and my face flat. It was weird that I was the only one with a cookie that looked like someone else, but I didn’t make them. It wasn’t up to me.

      “Carol thought it would be funny, that’s all.”  

      “Carol? But… wasn’t she fired yesterday?” Patti’s expression scrunched up even more. Her hands moved up to her pearls, fidgeting with the long strand. Sometimes I wondered if she wore pearls just so she could clutch them. 

      “Uh, no? Wouldn’t a memo have gone out if she was?” I turned my attention back to my work. I hoped Patti would get the hint and go away but she just stood there for a long moment. Sucking in a deep, dramatic breath… she picked her plate off my desk, staring hard at the Gingerbread Patti. 

      “Didn’t you make these?” she asked slowly.

      “No, I brought the meatballs. Why would you think I made them?” I answered, not looking up. I pretended to read an email. Patti was being nosy, as usual;  I’d never liked that about her. She didn’t have anything better to do, I guess. Except for the work she let pile up, but if I said that she’d complain to Dale. Patti was his favorite for some reason, so I’d probably get written up for ‘not being a team player’. Like a lot of offices around the world, this one was toxic. 

      “I’m not sure if this is okay. I’ll be right back.” Patti said, unaware of my rude thoughts. I looked up when she said that, unable to help myself. She didn’t explain, pivoting towards Dale’s office. To tell on me? Or Carol? I honestly wasn’t sure. Either way, it was a headache for me.

      She reappeared in the doorway with Dale a moment later. They both made a bee-line straight for my desk, their expressions a lot more serious than a cookie called for. Great. I pretended not to notice, busying myself with a stack of fresh paperwork. 

      Before they reached me, there was a loud cracking sound and a scream. Every head in the room whipped in the direction of the sound to find Robert tears running down his face. All I could see was his eyes poking up from his workstation, expression twisted and red.  “My arm!” he screamed. “Oh my god! It won’t move!”  

      A couple co-workers ran over to see what happened. I reached for my phone instead, ready to call 911 if an ambulance was needed. Patti and Dale changed course, but everyone looked confused. How on earth had Robert hurt his arm while sitting at his desk? Carpal tunnel?

      Now’s your chance, came an errant thought.

       My eyes slid towards the Gingerbread Dale. It looked perfectly palatable on that pretty poinsettia plate.

      Hurry! Before they confiscate it. 

      Now wasn’t the time to worry about cookies, but… my tongue tingled with anticipation and my teeth itched with the urge. 

      Just one small bite. The thought was strange, almost like it wasn’t mine… but very compelling. The gingerbread man was heavier than I expected. I lifted it to my lips and bit off one of the feet. It crunched in stereo, unusually loud as the foot snapped off and began to melt on my tongue. Delicious.

      A rush of delight washed over me, brought on by a flood of flavor that drowned out Dale’s cursing screams. He’d fallen, rocking back and forth on the floor. He must have twisted his ankle in his haste to check on Robert. How unlucky. Two injuries in one day?

      A chorus of oh-my-gods rang through the office, but I set down my phone so I could hold the Gingerbread Dale with both hands. Without even thinking, I took another bite– nibbling up the leg before switching to the other foot. The screaming kept getting louder, filling the room.

      The gingerbread had such a rich and complex flavor; ginger, cinnamon, allspice, cloves… and something else. Was it earthy? Or maybe it was the texture? Soft and velvety, yet dense and crunchy. Wow, so much screaming. All over carpal tunnel and a sprained ankle? 

      Annoyed, I glanced around the room to find that almost everyone was screaming. The ones who weren’t screaming were chewing with blissed out looks on their bloody faces or slumped over their desks. 

      Confused, I touched my own wet mouth and looked down at my red fingers. I wasn’t in any pain. Had Carol put glass in the batter or something? Where was the blood coming from? Why was everyone still eating?

      Because they can’t help themselves. 

      I couldn’t help myself either. Without realizing it, I’d eaten half of the Dale cookie and found myself going in for another bite. Horrified, I dropped the cookie– the gingerbread snapping in half as it hit the floor. 

      Dale, curled up on the carpet, was suddenly still and quiet. Patti was right next to him on the floor, but she didn’t seem to notice– chewing frantically with glazed eyes, gingerbread crumbs and blood running down her chin. Only when her mouth was empty did she resume screaming again. She rolled, and started eating her cookie off the carpet. 

      The spell the cookie cast on me had broken with my Boss’s spine. He was dead, and with each quieted scream… a co-worker joined him in death. I was the last one standing, the last one screaming. Soon, I was standing in perfect silence. No more screams. No more chewing. 

      Only then was I able to move. I grabbed my keys and ran out of the office. Maybe I should have called the police, but I didn’t know what I was going to tell them. That Carol’s Christmas cookies had killed everyone but me? That I’d chewed my boss to death with a voodoo gingerbread man? I couldn’t come up with a logical explanation in my state of pure panic. Even though my voice had broken, my thoughts kept screaming. 

      I ran through the snowy parking lot and found my car. I’m not sure why I ran, no one was chasing me. There was no one who could. Before I could jump into my car and drive away… I noticed the little red gift bag sitting on the hood of my car. Across the front, written in glitter, were the words ‘Merry Christmas from Carol!’

      I was terrified but looked inside the bag anyway. As I feared, there was a cookie. My heart thudded in terror, but I felt compelled to examine it. In spite of my dread, I started to salivate, clenching my teeth together. Even after what I witnessed, I wanted to eat it.

      The cookie wasn’t me.  It was Carol. Carol, down to the outfit she’d worn that very morning– except for the ‘Sorry’ piped across her sweater in red. I swallowed the bloody spit in my mouth, reaching back into the gift bag. There was a Christmas card inside. 

      Still holding the Gingerbread Carol, I opened it up. A key was taped to the glitter card stock, along with a simple message:

      Merry Christmas! 

      There’s a Gingerbread Office in my apartment. If you smash it, everyone will think the roof collapsed. That should explain all the broken bones. Don’t worry, no one will find me. 

      P.S.

      You were always kind to me, that’s why I spared you. I hope you’ll do me one more kindness, and make it quick.

      Love,

      Carol

      I closed the card, tucking it back in it’s envelope and sitting in my car. I looked down at the cookie still in my hand. My tongue tingled; my teeth itched. I didn’t want to do it, but I had to. I bit off Carol’s Gingerbread head.

      It tasted like gingerbread and death. 

       

      Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 0 Comments | Tagged christmas, cookies, creepy, curse, gingerbread, horror, nosleep, office, scary, scary story, short story, workplace horror
    • [Short Horror Story] My Family Doesn’t Know Our Guardian Angel is a Demon

      Posted at 6:51 pm by Penny Tailsup, on October 23, 2019

      Spooktober Prompt # 23 – Frenzied Family

      “My Family Doesn’t Know Our Guardian Angel is a Demon”

      by Penny Tailsup

      This is a continuation of the story: “My Family Was Blessed with an Angel… I Think It Was a Curse.”

      My family thinks we’re blessed with a guardian angel. I’d thought the angel was made-up to make Conti kids behave… until my mother died. She passed the “Glory” on to me with her dying breath. With the “Glory”, I’ve learned the terrible truth: our guardian angel is a Fallen. We weren’t blessed with an angel, we were cursed with a demon.

      For generations, the Conti family has prided themselves on the Blessing, standing tall as beacons of Goodness. Most Contis pat themselves on the back for being so Holy. I might be a secret atheist, but even I know that arrogance is sinful. My family’s cult-ish worship of our alleged angel made a doubter of me.

      If God exists, he must be laughing. Now I’m the only person who can see the Fallen’s shadow and hear his voice. I haven’t told my family yet. I don’t think I should, even though the absence of “our angel” has left the family in chaos.

      I could see the dysfunction in action at dinner. As I sawed through a gooey casserole, I listened to Father and Grandma argue. Through it all, the demon would pace at my back, restless and angry. He always had something to say.

      “You’re tearing your family apart. Why haven’t you told them?” his voice felt like electricity. I pretended not to hear him, the mashed potatoes far more worthy of my attention. Dinner was extra tense; we’d been staying with Grandma but Father announced we were going home tomorrow.

      Grandma wasn’t taking it well. Not because she was sad her daughter died, but because no one has claimed the Glory. She’s convinced one of her grandchildren must have it… and she’s not wrong. I’m keeping my mouth shut because I think it’s better not to say anything until I know more about this demon. If I tried to tell everyone the truth, they wouldn’t believe me.

      “You’re not blood, Barone-Conti!” Grandma yells at Father. He doesn’t even look up from his plate.

      “Neither are you, Benita. Your husband had the Glory, not you. You married into this family just as I did.” Father replied calmly. Grandpa Deangelo had the Glory before Mother, which was something Grandma took great pride in. I think she married him for it, but I can’t be sure.

      “I took the name! I fully committed, which you never did!” she replied, so angry she was spitting. I wouldn’t be having more mashed potatoes after all.

      “Of course you took the name, that’s the norm.” my father rolled his eyes, sick of the same argument. “I’m a man. That I took Conti in any form is a concession on my part. Also remember: I was man enough to accept when Angelica didn’t want to change her last name. I don’t deserve your opinion of me. I also don’t care.” he set down his fork, standing up. “Excuse me, I’m going to start packing. Kids, finish your dinner.”

      He left. Grandma followed after him so she could continue arguing with him. I looked at my siblings who were unusually quiet. Angie hadn’t eaten any of her peas. I gently reminded her to finish them, which earned me a glare.

      My brother’s plate was empty, so he stood up and made to leave. “It’s your turn to do the dishes.” I reminded him, but he kept walking like I hadn’t said anything. Teenage boys are annoying, especially when they’re your brother.

      While this happened, the demon laughed. It’s hard to tell when he laughs, it’s more of a feeling than a sound. It comes from below, like I’m standing over a great black pit. My knees get weak, like I’m about to fall.

      As usual, the “guardian angel” had something to say.

      “They won’t respect you until you tell them you have the Glory.” The demon still paced and vibrated behind me. I’ve noticed that the shape of the shadow changes a lot. If I look directly at it, I see a tall figure with sharp wings. If I look from the corner of my eye, I’m not sure what I see. If I try to focus on it, it changes back.

      “Children like that won’t go to Heaven.” he warned me. I almost replied in anger, but fortunately Grandma’s nasty casserole was quite glue-like. The demon likes to provoke me. I know he hopes I’ll accidentally out myself.

      “I’ll do the dishes, Sera.” Angie said, “If… you eat my peas for me.” Normally, I wouldn’t humor Angie’s request. I reached across the table and took her plate. A scoop of peas wasn’t a hill I wanted to die on. There was enough fighting going already! My little sister smiled for the first time in days, hopping up and dutifully clearing the table while I finished eating.

      I was already done with my chores for the day. I’d cleaned the stained glass windows in the grand entry. Grandma was so proud of the glass she’d commissioned, like we were a church or something. The angel depicted on the colored panes was nothing like the shadow skulking at my back. I wonder what Grandpa Deangelo thought of the windows. He’d never said.

      As I walked up the stairs to go pack my things, I heard Grandma whispering on the phone. Even when she whispers she’s too loud. My foot froze before it reached the landing. I heard her say:

      “He pushed her. He told me he did… he’s responsible for Angelica’s death! You must come to arrest him right away. The children are in danger.”

      That liar. Choked with rage, I stood there for a long moment. Grandma was talking to the police. They were still investigating Mother’s death, even though it was a suicide. They were suspicious of Father, they’d questioned him for a long time already.

      “Lying in a sin.” the demon breathed, “You should pass judgment on her.” each word crackled in my ear and made my tongue tingle. I grit my teeth together, shaking my head. I made myself keep walking.

      “Tell her who you are. Tell her about me. You can make her sorry.” his sickly-sweet inflection made me want to hurl. I shook my head again, the thunder in my ears made it easy to drown out Grandma’s lies.

      “I can make her sorry, if you let me.”

      NO.

      No. It was going to be okay. The police weren’t going to listen to Grandma. For one, Mother hadn’t really fallen in the tub like Father said. She didn’t know what really happened, it would be obvious she was making things up.

      “The police already suspect him. You love your father, don’t you? You need to protect him.”

      Grandma stepped out of her bedroom, she spotted me standing there and quickly put her phone in her pocket. “Sera! Did you finish your dinner?” she asked. I wanted to hit her, but I knew better. I put my hands in my pockets.

      “Yes. The casserole was awful.” I said. Before she could say another word, I marched past her. Grandma must have known I’d overheard her because she didn’t come after me. I felt her eyes boring into the back of my head, but she didn’t say anything. In my room, I quickly began shoving my clothes into my suitcase.

      “That’s it?” the demon huffed. “Push her down the stairs. I never liked her anyway.” For a moment, the image came to me– a jolt of red, a twisted body at the bottom of the staircase. I tasted iron and rain. The image felt good, but only for a moment.

      “NO!” I slammed my suitcase shut, taking in a deep breath and fighting back the urge to be sick. My knees hit the carpet, and I pressed my forehead into the mattress for a moment as I tried to collect myself. My blood boiled and my lungs burned with heat. This wasn’t just anger, but it wasn’t sickness either.

      “What are you doing to me?” I whispered to the demon. I knew it was responsible. Grandma started knocking on the door, calling ‘Sera, Sera!’. I couldn’t raise my voice, though I wanted to yell at her to go away.

      “I didn’t do anything.” said the demon. “I only made a suggestion. You liked it… that’s all. Maybe if you followed through, you’d feel better.”

      “I didn’t like it.” I lied. I felt it laugh, so I closed my mouth. Grandma was still knocking. Angry, sick and scared, I got to my feet and pulled the door open to glare at her.

      “What do you want?” I asked. Her wide-eyed look gave me some satisfaction. I crossed my arms, waiting for her answer. “I’m going to bed in a minute.”

      “I heard you yelling.” she said, “I was worried for you, dear Sera. Is… is he in there?”

      “Who?” my temples tightened. I was suddenly aware of a cold prickle, like something sharp was being run gently over my skin.

      “You know. The angel.” her conspiratorial whisper made me angrier.

      “If there was an angel in here, would I really be yelling at it?” I screamed. The words came with such force I could swear they echoed through the house. I started to sob; not because I was sad, because I was frustrated.

      “Deangelo used to yell too,” Grandma replied. “Oh, how he’d yell! The walls would shake. Tell me, Sera. Why are you lying? Are you afraid? It’s okay to be afraid.” she reached out, clasping my hands in hers. Her hands were cold. “You shouldn’t lie, Sera.”

      “I’m not lying. You’re projecting. You’re a liar.” I pulled my hands out of hers. I wanted to wrap my fingers around her neck, but I put my hands back in my pockets and tried to breathe deep. Each breath felt like fire. I started to cough and had to lean against the door frame for support.

      “I didn’t lie. Your father is a dangerous man, Serafina…” she insisted. “He told me it was an accident. That he pushed her, and she fell and hit her head. He was angry. It was an accident, I’m sure he wasn’t lying about that. But a man with anger like that? He can’t be trusted with you kids! I’m looking out for what’s best, though it might not seem like it right now. I know you’re grieving. You’re going through a lot. But it’s okay, because the angel will protect us and guide us as he always has. This is all part of God’s plan.”

      I could still feel the laughter of the Fallen. It rose up, and I thought I might be swallowed up by the pit of its mirth.

      “Stop lying to me!” I screamed. I heard thundering footsteps from down the hall. I looked to see Father, his grimace of concern froze me.

      “Father, she… she called the police!” I sobbed, “She said you killed Mother.”

      “Sera, it’s okay.” he reached for me, giving my shoulders a comforting squeeze. “You know it’s not true. The police will know too. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” he shot my Grandmother such a look that it was a wonder she didn’t drop dead, but he smiled for me and gave me a hug.

      I couldn’t stop crying. He squeezed me tighter and told Grandma something in Italian I assumed was incredibly rude. I don’t know much Italian, but I still laughed through the tears. I’m not sure what would have happened if Father hadn’t come running, but it wouldn’t have been good. I hated Grandma so much.

      By the time Father let go, I’d calmed down. He closed the door in Grandma’s face and sat me down on the bed. I watched him fish around in his pocket, pulling out a very squished pack of cinnamon gum. He offered it to me, and I unwrapped the foil and popped a stick in my mouth. The flavor had a bit of a burn to it, but it was also sweet. The taste of iron and rain went away. I tried to give him back the pack, but he didn’t take it.

      “Keep it. It should help with the taste in your mouth.” he said. “Your mother went through a lot of gum.” I gave him a shocked look. Did he mean what I thought he meant? “You know, because of your Grandma’s terrible cooking.” he said this extra loudly.

      “We’re going home tomorrow. Everything will be okay.” Father said, “You’re a strong girl. Smart too. Soon you’re going to be in college and you can put all of this behind you.” I didn’t see how. The Conti family was cursed, and that very curse wasn’t going to let me forget it.

      In fact, it chose that very moment to say something I hadn’t dared to think about:

      “Maybe he didn’t push her in the shower. But do you really think your mother staged that whole scene by herself? Come on smart girl. Think on it.”

      The image came rushing back. My mother’s body between a pair of bloody wings. She was bloody, with dark vertical slashes from wrist to elbow. I’d seen that sight many times already, an intrusive memory that chewed a permanent home inside me. A gaping, painful hole where nothing else could go. Only that picture, only that pain.

      Of course… Father had nothing to do with that.

      “The police are suspicious for a reason.” the demon always knew exactly how to hurt me. I knew he was a liar, but he was an expert at stoking doubt and fear.

      Maybe the police are suspicious because my whole family is a cult. I know Father would never do such a thing! He loved Mother so much. The grief and pain in his eyes was real, and it never went away. Even when he hugged me and told me everything would be okay, he looked so sad.

      “Can we go home now? Why wait?” I whispered. I looked desperately at my father, hoping we could just… go. It wouldn’t solve anything, but I was tired of Grandma’s house.

      “Angelo’s already in bed.” he replied, “I understand how you feel, but he hasn’t been sleeping lately and I don’t want to wake him up.” that was true. I’d often found my younger brother wandering around Grandma’s house in the middle of the night with hollow eyes and a frown. He had every reason to be despondent. We all were. I hadn’t been sleeping much either.

      “Go to bed now, and morning will come even sooner. Spit out the gum before you sleep, I don’t want you to ruin your pretty hair.” he gave me a fatherly tousle and left, closing the door carefully behind him.

      I heard whispering in the hall. Grandma must have been lurking outside the door, listening in. She suspected I had the Glory, so she probably wasn’t going to leave me alone. I locked the door behind him and crawled into bed, leaving a wad of gum on the nightstand for Grandma to clean up later.

      …

      I woke up at the bottom of the staircase.

      I have no memory of how I got there. I was holding something heavy and cold. When I looked down, I was holding a sword. Bright silver, dappled in colors from the stained glass as the moonlight poured through them.

      Startled, I dropped the sword. It hit the floor but it didn’t make a sound; it simply vanished. Wherever it came from, it was gone.

      Scared and confused, I ran up the stairs. I passed my brother Angelo in the hall, he sitting on the banister. He turned his head to watch me go by, but I didn’t stop and he didn’t try to stop me.

      The demon unusually was quiet. At night, his shadow falls darker than every other; looking at it is like staring into a void. I didn’t look at it. Didn’t talk to it. I crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over my eyes. I didn’t sleep; I was too afraid.

      I thought the demon couldn’t do anything unless I let it. Now I’m not so sure. Something is changing in me. I don’t know how to stop it.

      I don’t know if I can.

      Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 1 Comment | Tagged angels, curse, dark, demons, fiction, horror story, nosleep, series, short story, spooktober
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      • Tales From Solitude
      • True, or True-ish Stories
      • Uncategorized
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