Welcome! Here, we will feature interviews, spotlights, news, short stories, poems, and more from the world of Wattpad. Read inside to find out how you can get featured in our monthly literary magazine!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Written by HurricaneKareena Winner of the "Words and Memories" Contest Prompt: A person eaten alive by memories of things they did in the past finds a way to remove these memories.
A single and endless shriek lit the humid air, which was filled with the stench of rotten flesh and hellfire. The smoke was dense, and the whole room was thick with fear and vile thoughts.
"Please! Please make it stop!" Ambrose yelled into the abyss of white noise and faraway laughter from beyond his encasement. The fog was heavy and rested all of its weight on Ambrose's chest, and he felt like his body was cemented to the place he was laying.
He made the awful mistake to glance down at his rotting flesh. The hand that he held in front of him contained chunks of his skin peeling from his arm, and maggots were embedded into his raw hand, writhing slowly.
He screamed loudly and tried to get up, but he was dead and he knew it. There was no way out of this, because he chose this. He chose this box, these endless souls of maggots eating him, hell, he even chose... well...
As he continued to bang against the wood nailed above his body, he heard heavy footsteps thudding one after the other, coming toward him. His hand flew to his mouth, but there was nothing left to cover. Just a gaping hole where flesh should be.
He looked down again. All his skin had called off his bone, and he knew that he would have to relive yet another life he had taken when he was on Earth.
Suddenly, the coffin door flung open, and a figure dressed in all black snatched his bones. He was surprised that he still had thoughts and feelings of fright, but maybe it's because of him.
The ghoulish figure grinned from above him as he was held aloof. The smirking... thing's face was contorted, a painted on, dramatic theater smile smacked on its face, the image that would scar a child more than Stephen King's creatures.
Its body was disfigured greatly, and its back was hunched over as its feet dragged lazily behind it. Its teeth were the least scary part of him, extending as long as a baby's body and as razor sharp as a pair of meat shears.
It dropped me into a sack about the size of a sheep dog, and I felt all of my bones rattle as they clanked on the floor. Then, the nightmare started to drag me toward another life that I would relive.
"No, please! I'll do anything to make this stop!" I pleaded in my thoughts, since I had no mouth to speak, although I was sure he- no, it- heard me. "I'll repent, I'll even help you!" The sillhoute of the creature stopped, and the burlap bag was tossed on the floor, the rough material scratchy on the bones that were me.
"Anything, you say..."
***
As I jolted down the desolate streets, I grinned and flexed my fingers, admiring my profile in a shop window.
