⇝ an overwhelming and painful feeling caused by something frightfully shocking, terrifying, or revolting ⇜
Creepy, horrific stories to keep you up at night. Beware reader, for those who enter never finish it alive
-Horrid cover will change from tim...
Dear Reader, I write this letter to anyone who will listen to me, though most will think I'm crazy. Five hours...that's all the time I have left. He's not going to let me go, and since you're reading this, you'll be next.
It started a week ago, the day the stupid box came from Ireland! I didn't even know who gave it to me. There was no stamp, no To or From, just a brown box filled with styrofoam and...the doll.
God! The doll was so creepy. Half of its polished face was torn apart and his eyes were glass, GLASS!!! I tried to catch up with the mailman, as I live on the top of my apartment building, but he vanished. Just...poof and gone!
So there I was...stuck with the creepy doll. You know what I did? YOU KNOW WHAT I DID?! I threw it out the window.
If you don't know already, I have a huge phobia of dolls and that one seemed to remind me of my mom. It's curly white hair fell to its stubby feet and it's stare just reminded me of her and when I found her in the bathroom, dead.
I need to hurry. I really do, I don't have much time.
I woke up to the doll lying next to me, its once painted on frown turned to a smile. It sat up and looked at me and suddenly I realized...it was life sized. A exact replica of my mom.
Of course, I freaked and ran, but it's cold hand grabbed my arm and turned me. It told me secrets and...things a man my age shouldn't hear. It told me how my father killed my mother and how I had seven days.
I ran so fast and its grip loosened, sending me flying into the door. I awoke a day later in the hospital. But now I'm getting out, and writing this on my blog as I head to my apartment. I'm even going onto the elevator. Though, it's going down instead of up. I didn't even know we had a basement.
The basement is cold, let me tell you that, and I would stay in the elevator, but I'm getting frost bite...or whatever.
Walking out, the darkness feels eery and my phone flashlight won't work, though probably because I'm still typing this as I-
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(The post and photo were uploaded by what the police believe to be the murderer. They found Harry Snipher's body a day later, his throat slit with his guts ripped out. His phone laid next to him, open to this page. While police say it was a serial killer who also wrote this as a prank, others believe it was another force - the ghost of his dead mother)
