Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Micro Horror Stories
Growing up with cats and dogs, I got used to the sounds of scratching at my door while I slept. Now that I live alone, it is much more unsettling.
In all of the time that I've lived alone in this house, I swear to God I've closed more doors than I've opened.
A girl heard her mom yell her name from downstairs, so she got up and started to head down. As she got to the stairs, her mom pulled her into her room and said "I heard that, too."
She asked why I was breathing so heavily. I wasn't.
My wife woke me up last night to tell me there was an intruder in our house. She was murdered by an intruder 2 years ago.
I awoke to the sound of the baby monitor crackling with a voice comforting my firstborn child. As I adjusted to a new position, my arm brushed against my wife, sleeping next to me.
I always thought my cat had a staring problem - she always seemed fixated on my face. Until one day, when I realized that she was always looking just behind me.
There's nothing like the laughter of a baby. Unless it's 1 a.m. and you're home alone.
I was having a pleasant dream when what sounded like hammering woke me. After that, I could barely hear the muffled sound of dirt covering the coffin over my own screams.
"I can't sleep," she whispered, crawling into bed with me. I woke up cold, clutching the dress she was buried in.
I begin tucking him into bed and he tells me, "Daddy, check for monsters under my bed." I look underneath for his amusement and see him, another him, under the bed, staring back at me quivering and whispering, "Daddy, there's somebody on my bed."
You get home, tired after a long day's work and ready for a relaxing night alone. You reach for the light switch, but another hand is already there.
I can't move, breathe, speak or hear and it's so dark all the time. If I knew it would be this lonely, I would have been cremated instead.
She went upstairs to check on her sleeping toddler. The window was open and the bed was empty.
Don't be scared of the monsters, just look for them. Look to your left, to your right, under your bed, behind your dresser, in your closet but never look up, she hates being seen.
My daughter won't stop crying and screaming in the middle of the night. I visit her grave and ask her to stop, but it doesn't help.
After working a hard day, I came home to see my girlfriend cradling our child. I didn't know which was more frightening, seeing my dead girlfriend and stillborn child, or knowing that someone broke into my apartment to place them there.
. There was a picture in my phone of me sleeping. I live alone