Weird Stories From A Weird Person

Alone (Horror)

Emma skipped into the grandiose Museum of Literature, her 5th birthday balloon bobbing in time with her shiny blond pigtails. Her parents traipsed behind her, stopping to photograph a particularly interesting document or a memory of their child they wished to keep. They were journalists, and had a passion for literature they were trying to instill into their little girl, hence the birthday at a museum of literature. This museum was particularly interesting, for it was built many decades ago, when civil wars were raging and Abraham Lincoln oversaw the great United States of America, hence the chipping paint and architecture that stood out amongst the modern, upper-class houses dotting the space around it. Emma laughed and gazed at the documents, trying to make sense of the funny squiggles her parents called 'genius work'. She ran around the whole museum, her teddy bear dragging on the wooden floors behind her, blissfully unaware that she had gotten separated from her parents. And when she did realize, it was too late.

Mama? Papa? She called out, a hint of confusion and worry now tinging her voice and taking the place where excitement and bliss used to reside. She strained her ears, struggling to hear her parent's voices carrying back to her. There were no replies. She turned and ran as fast as her stubby, spindly legs could carry her, birthday forgotten, making worthless attempts to locate her parents. She ran and ran, the world blurred out around her, the only thing that mattered now was the safety of her parent's arms. A trance came over her, a potent blend of determination and fear churning inside her gut, breaking only as she ran into the steel doors of the Horror section. Shaking herself off, she pushed open the doors, grunting at the effort it took to push open the heavy gate. It was almost like the museum didn't want anyone to enter.

Welcome to the horror section, A woman's distorted voice said. It sounded metallic, and not quite human, the cold tinge of AI in her voice where the warmth in a human's voice should be. In this section, you will discover the greatest thrillers and spine-tingling stories known to man. Tears sprung to Emma's eyes, hope lost, happiness forgotten. Her heart pounded in unison with the throbbing, dim red lighting. She was alone.

Horror is the intense, painful feeling of repugnance and fear. And now, an excerpt from Alone, the greatest horror story of our time. "She plopped down onto a chair, vaping as much as she could before her parents came home and could reprimand her. She blew out a puff and internally smiled, the tranquility of my house bringing her to peace. The horror section seemed unnaturally quiet, the story ringing and echoing around the room. She sat there for some time, replaying the day's events, when someone knocked on the door. She got up to open the door, stuffing her (forbidden) vape inside her skirt pocket, stopping short when she got to the door. It was open. Emma heard the metallic, rickety creaking of the steel doors behind her, relief filling her body, for her parents were here to take her home! She ran towards the door, faster than she had ever run before, but even though the door was open, nobody stood waiting. She looked around, scanning her surroundings. She was still alone.

She sweated in slight fear, looking around to check for any threats to her safety. There was nobody. Sighing in relief, she pulled out her vape again when someone knocked on the door again. Sighing, she went to check the door again. There was nobody. Another creak. Emma was filled with deep terror, fear causing tingles down her spine. The exhibits seemed to get closer and closer, engulfing her and locking her in. She turned away from the door, deciding the knocks were only pranks from the neighborhood kids, but still not yet able to shake the terror deep inside her. Something was wrong. Someone was behind her. Emma could sense it. She didn't even have time to stop and try to figure out what was bother her before she felt the hand on her neck. Nobody can tell what happened that fateful day, only that she was never seen again.