my horror stories!

they lurk from the darkness...

An everlasting fog stretched as far as the eye could see, the isolation was deafening. Burnt bark and emerald moss littered the facultative forest floor, peasants serving their malevolent masters who protected them from birth until they danced down upon the earth of their burial grounds. Twigs cracked underneath the weight of my tar black Firetrap boots as I trekked piteously through the venom green vegetation , an epitome of hell. I had no knowledge of where I was, only that my name was Paris Clarke , everything else seemed to disappear in my only memory; the accident. All I could remember was an undying anger deep within my core, blood curdling screams as we careered off of the chocolate brown track, leaving a once luscious kingdom of green and into a towering giant of a tree. Before I could react, my frontal lobe slammed into the steering wheel as I succumbed to the peaceful abyss of sleep. When I awoke, crimson red streaks and scarlet red blood oozed and dripped from cracks in the glass; where an otherworldly beast clawed its meal like a predator would its prey. Eerie silence taunted me, just waiting for me to scream as I drifted on the brink of sanity, trails of the forest beckoned me, beckoned me to take the journey of the damned; never to return.

Darkness. Everywhere I looked there was darkness except for the small slithers of light, dancing down from the wars above like merry little demons. Her eyes followed me as I tentatively tiptoed through the of abandoned shop. A chill cascaded down my spine as her golden ringlets fell from her peachy, porcelain face. Sapphire blue orbs tracked my every move as I backed away from her; she had lips as red as rubies, a dress as lilac as an Ageratum houstonianum, shining on a hot summers day. The beautiful frock had frills white like the sand on a luxurious Caribbean beach, yet underneath all of this beauty she possessed, she was unnerving.

As I took an equable step towards this ostracized doll, the door slammed shut and locked, leaving me trapped in the darkness of hell, chained to the misery she felt. Within mere seconds, a soft glow from the heavens illuminated the oubliette I was trapped in, like a ray of hope produced by god himself.

I froze. The once joyous, bright, golden crowned angel with the perfect curls was replaced by a child with hair as black as coal, lips as deep of a red as freshly spilled blood and a dress as dark as the midnight sky. She had maroon tears cascading down from her mystic violet eyes and dripping down to the worn out chair beneath her. The rope looked as if it were going to snap her fragile body and allow her to descend into the pool of shining blood and sorrow underneath her sanctuary. This is what happens when you sell your soul. The damned sorrowfully suffered here. Forever...