⇝ 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
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Creepy. Crawly. Slimy. I won't...no, I can't do it! What they're asking me is impossible. Never will I eat Ms. Maskers finger, especially since she chopped it up into tiny pieces and put it into the soup.
My family doesn't believe me, but I caught her. In the kitchen. She hummed a tune as she chopped her finger into tiny pieces, a plop sound surrounding the room as she dropped the pieces into the soup. She nearly caught me, but mom says I'm a fast runner, so there's no way she saw me!
Sitting at the table is uncomfortable. Her eyes watch me, digging into me skin, and maybe seeing past me. It's hard to tell due to how clear and ghostly they are. I want to look up and give her a glare, but mom will get mad. Then dad will get mad, and that can't happen!
The hum still echoes through the room, every so often stopping, but apparently I can only hear it. When I ask about it, everyone just stares at me with a confused expression.
Leaving...I want to leave. My mom says give it a few hours, but I don't want to. Going here was dumb anyway. Who cares if I got an F? I don't see why we had to come over.
They're eating it! THEY ARE ACTUALLY EATING IT. My mom and dad lift their spoons with such elegance, but it's gross. I can almost see the pieces of the finger moving, but there they are, eating it like it's nothing.
"Eat the soup darling," Ms. Maskers says. I nearly gag at the thought, but as I open my mouth, my mom shoves a spoonful down, making me choke.
I have to admit, it does taste good, but the fingers...ugh.
--
Were finally leaving. But she keeps watching me, even as she closes the door to let us out into the darkness of the night. We had to leave early due to the pain. My parents don't feel it, but something is upsetting my tummy. I have a feeling it's the fingers.
Getting home, my parents leave to sleep, too exhausted to even move. They just slip into their room and slam the door. It's odd because they are never tired, especially my mom.
-- Something's climbing out of me. I feel its grip lath into my insides. I've gone to the toilet three times to puke, but all I get is air.
I'm going to look! I can't help it, I have to. There's something in me. My small flashlights in my room, at least I thought so. It's not there.
I found it! It was on the bathroom counter all along. I stare at my reflection, glancing at the bags under my eyes. It has to be at least 4 am. I've been up for hours due to the pain.
Opening my mouth, I lean forward, my other hand gripping the counter tightly. There's something, I hear it moving inside.
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Oh my god! Did you see that?! It's fingers! There are fingers inside of me! Someone send help, they are climbing out. I can't...it's...just send help, please.
