Coffins

Coffins used to be built with holes in them, attached to six feet of copper tubing and a bell. The tubing would allow air for victims buried under the mistaken impression they were dead. In a certain small town, Harold, the local gravedigger, upon hearing a bell one night, went to go see if it was children pretending to be spirits. Sometimes it was also the wind. This time, it wasn’t either. A voice from below begged and pleaded to be unburied.

“Are you Sarah Bannon?” Harold asked.

“Yes!” The muffled voice asserted.

“You were born on September 17, 1827?”

“Yes!”

“The gravestone here says you died on February 20, 1857.”

“No, I’m alive, it was a mistake! Dig me up, set me free!”

“Sorry about this, ma’am,” Harold said, stepping on the bell to silence it and plugging up the copper tube with dirt. “But this is August. Whatever you are down there, you sure as hell ain’t alive no more, and you ain’t comin’ up.”

A Letter Just For You

Don’t dismiss this outright as the work of some raving lunatic. There’s some sense to this story, if you’ll just hear me out…

Look, we all wonder if time travel is possible, right? Well let me tell you something… it is. I’m from the future, actually. I know you probably don’t believe that, but seriously, I’m from the future. It’s a really great thing; getting to see the past, watching events unfold.. stuff like that. We know more now than we ever would.

Behind all the fun, though, there is a more serious aspect. We aren’t supposed to go into our own lifetime, and we are NEVER allowed to contact our past selves. Let me tell you, I’m breaking that rule right now. Yes, kid, you’re talking to yourself. Your future self. I’m going to be executed for this, but you know what? I accept that. I’m preventing something by talking to you that is WORSE than death. I can’t tell you outright what to do, because the filters would catch it. This is the closest I can get, trust me. I can, however, send a little message.

You should probably read the first word of every paragraph, now.

Unit 1502

I haven’t been sleeping much anymore. My two room condo has a large window right next to my bed. I’ve started to notice something odd about the people going by. Have you ever seen how video game characters don’t seem to walk? They just glide forward while doing a walking animation, like a reverse moonwalk. That’s what they do, they don’t tip forward with each step, and they keep their torso completely straight and legs moving beneath them while drifting past my window.

The other thing I find weird about them is that all of them are very, very smartly dressed. All the women wear long Victorian looking dresses with puffy, usually red or blue short sleeves. The men all wear tuxedos with pants that go very far up their torso. Some of the older men have short black canes with metal balls on the top.

They walk by my window every day, about two per minute, their timing not changing when the sky goes dark.

There is still one thing I can’t quite figure out though.

I live on the fifteenth floor.

The Suicide Forest

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There’s a reason I won’t go to Aokigahara,

Not just ‘cause it’s creepy, not just ‘cause it’s dark;

There are twisty twined trees, there are weeds and neglect,

But worse than all that is the “mocking” effect.

As you walk the park paths, you’ll hear a faint echo –

Footfalls – your own? – in that dim and grim ghetto,

Coming closer and closer as if someone’s there…

You whirl and see no one, just fog on the air.

So you whistle – it whistles. You cough – and it coughs.

Then from murky mists a gray shadow breaks off.

It’s your height and your size and your very same shape,

And then it’s upon you, no time to escape!

You suck in cold air, and then – poof – it moves through you.

You laugh at yourself – a shadow can’t chew you!

But you turn and see someone who’s walking away,

This person – your double! – you glimpse with dismay.

They continue their strolling on down the park trail,

While you melt into mist, a fog of gray veil.

And that’s why I won’t go back to Aokigahara –

I like being you.

I hope you like the dark.

Light’s Out

When I was 6, everything was simple. Just like any other 6-year-old’s life. Although, there was this time when… Well, I actually don’t know what happened.

It was a June 13th, 2006. It was cold, even though it was summer. I was alone in my basement playing my Gameboy with one of those plug-in light attachments. Nothing really out of the ordinary, until it started to rain. In fact, it was a rather big storm. I was in the living room, while my parents were upstairs, when the lights flickered. At the time, didn’t think of much of it and continued to play.

I was actually about to beat the 3rd gym leader when the all of the lights in my house just shut off. As a 6-year-old, I was pretty frightened. Nothing like this had ever happened before. It was so dark, so eerie. I had this feeling of nervousness shoot throughout my body. I ran upstairs as quickly as I could, while carrying the Gameboy as it was my only source of light, and looked for my parents.

They were not there. I cried out their names. Nothing. I ran into every room looking for them, and they weren’t there. Then, I started to hear things. Tapping on the glass, footsteps, and creaks in the floor. Someone or something must’ve broken into the house. I couldn’t process what was going on, I just… I sat on the flooring crying, burying my face in my arms.

I kept crying until… I heard something coming up the stairs, rather slowly. I shined my light on it. Big white eyes, very tall. That was not one of my parents. My heart stopped. What…is…? As it almost reached the top of the stairs, and at this point I was paralyzed with fear and I couldn’t move, the lights shot back on. It… was staring at me with its huge eyes that looked like they were beating like a heart, and its face skin was partially torn off, revealing its muscle. I could see huge columns of saliva coming from its mouth. It was gesturing with its finger for me to come over to it while a sickening grin was on its face.

My parents then came in through the front door, as they had gone to the neighbor’s house and I turn and look back at the stairs to find… nothing…

Tales of The Third Eye # 1

Some people say it is real, some however say that it is a figment of our imagination. To be branded as a crazy child for even just a few months felt like years of solitude and suffering. The solitude did end a some point, but the suffering did not. Most of the time it lay dormant, but at times when it is awake, strange things happen… in my perspective at least.

It all started when I was at the age of 5. Back then, I was living in Japan taking my kinder classes and just living my life without worrying about anything. Just eating, sleeping, playing, and occasionally taking a bath. (Because it is super cold back in my place you’ll have second thoughts of taking a bath. Just stripping down is a big pain in the ass.) Back then, I didn’t know what was normal and what was not. I had playmates in my room that were strangers. Even as a child, I was an introvert. They would just appear out of nowhere and ask me to play with them. There was two of them if I could remember. My mother didn’t tell me to stop playing with them. In fact, she was asking me if they wanted any beverages, in which the answer was no. She knew. She knew the fact that my playmates were not human even though they look very much like one. What are they then?

Me and my mom would occasionally go outside on warmer days. We go to the park, but she always tells me to not talk to strangers or anyone that I don’t know for the matter even though there were many kids playing. It was then when I asked her about my two playmates. I didn’t know them. They just came out of nowhere yet I am allowed to talk to them much less play with them? She then talked to me about something special that only me and my mom could see. At first I was confused since I was a child and all.

So after that small talk at the park, we went home. Although I was really confused abou me not being allowed to play with anyone else at the park. I only begin to understand my situation when my mom told me the truth. It turns out, there was no one else in the park, just the two of us.

Random Creepy Shorts # 22

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There is always this one time when we see a house and we want to enter it so bad, in other words trespassing. I was told by my cousin that it’s bad and she went ahead and told me a story to somehow scare me off. Just so you notice, my family loves telling creepy stories and here I am, spreading them to you. It goes like this…

There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning.

As he looked around the inside of the cabin, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by several portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred and malice. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.

The next morning, the hunter awoke — he turned, blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.

Random Creepy Shorts # 21

It has been a while since my last Random Creepy Short (RCS) since as a self-proclaimed writer (yeah, right) I also need inspiration in my writings. My teacher told me that I have no right to write if I don’t read. So I read a bunch of stuff to get my engine up and running (hah see what I did there, engine, you know… cause my profile name is SteamEngine… anyway, enough with the funny stuff, besides it’s a random creepy short.) So I decided to give a little bit more effort than usual on this story. Anyway, it goes like this…

I am a loving father, a faithful husband, and a righteous person in my own right. Obviously, I’m a father to my only daughter Cassie. She is my jewel, my diamond, my Mona Lisa, my Eiffel tower. In short, my greatest and most loved. Since she was born, the love I’ve given for her is more than anyone else had. I loved her so much, I think I loved her too much.

It was 10 years since I last played with my little Cassie. She has grown up now, she is no longer the innocent girl who I used to scold for picking up a knife, playing with it and accidentally cutting herself. Another year and she is already an adult. Oh, how I miss the old days, when Cassie would just walk up to me, say

“Tag! You’re it!”

and we would chase each other around the house for the whole day. I miss that feeling, and before she finally leaves behind her childhood, I would like to spend a few more moments to play with her.

She made a playful squeal as I tagged her. It was clear she was enjoying herself, she was laughing herself to tears.

“Daddy, stop it, my sides hurt!” She continued to laugh.

Her joy was contagious, I smiled, for once in years, I smiled. I dare say I’ve smiled more that day than I have in my entire life. Alas, all good things must come to an end, she was tired, and fell asleep shortly after.

My wife soon came home. She was so glad to see me, she yelled my name, again, laughing to tears. She hugged me, still laughing. I continued to smile. She looked down and saw my tagging tool, quickly shooting her focus back to my eyes. I continued to smile.

“Michael…” Tears continued to stream down her face in excitement.

“How could you have done this to our little angel?” She tried to run, but she was too slow.

“Tag…” I smiled wider. “You’re it.”

I guess you’re wondering what my tagging tool was. You see…

it was the knife Cassie used to play with.

Random Creepy Shorts # 20

I am in introvert. I feed off of my own solitude. For some reason, being alone makes me comfortable. It’s peace and quiet. I could focus on whatever task is at hand. But there are some moments when I wish I wasn’t alone, or at least knew if someone was there. This story is about someone alone in the house. I’ll let the story speak for itself. It goes like this…

Here I lay, all snuggled up in bed, warm and satisfied under the soft silk covers, watching some stupid documentary on TV I’d never heard of. I’d turn it over, but the gallon tub of cookie dough ice cream wouldn’t let me use my hands for anything other than shovelling the frozen treat into my mouth. Nights like these are rare, it isn’t often that everyone’s out of the house but me, so I make sure to savour them, in fact, I wasn’t expecting anyone back till the morning. That’s what made the sound of the door opening downstairs so alarming.

Panic hits me like a steam train, I silently leap out from under the covers, spilling the ice cream all over the pristine white carpet on the floor, and creak open the wardrobe next to the bed. I hear footsteps, heavy and indiscreet, like they want me to know they’re here. I pant, and pick up the spoon I had just been using to enjoy a relaxing night. The footsteps get louder, I force myself into the miniscule space remaining in the wardrobe, and close the door, just as the stranger opens the bedroom door, not sparing any seconds for silence.
I peer through the gap, his face looks familiar, but I can’t place my finger on where I know him from. He spots the spilled ice cream, and darts his head across the wide expanse of the bedroom.

“Hello?” he calls, not sounding vicious, but I’ve made that mistake before. Never, under any circumstances, assume friendliness from a voice.

He looks under the bed. Oh crap, he’s looking for someone. I hold back a whimper, and start bending the bowl of the spoon back and forth, hoping to snap it off and create some way of defending myself. It snaps, but it creates a metallic click, the man turns his head around, and makes his way to the wardrobe, I’m shaking now. Please don’t open it, please don’t open it, please don’t open it!

The door swings open, and he sees me, we scream simultaneously in fear and surprise. Without hesitation, I leap onto the man, and start digging into whatever stretch of flesh I can with the sharp edge of the spoon handle, he screeches in clear pain, but I won’t stop, I hammer the handle deep into his chest and neck, over and over, till he becomes motionless. I’ve killed him.

I cry in disgust, and sprint downstairs and away from the house, I charge down the road until I feel like I’m far enough away. I sit down for a moment, and exhale heavily before regaining my composure. Pulling out my phone, I open Twitter and search #babysitter, hopefully this time, I’ll find a household that isn’t lying when they say they’ll be out all night.

The H.A. Bordner Building

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A little intro before I tell you my story.

The hallway you just saw is from the H.A. Bordner Building, the oldest building in Manila Science High School. It has been there since the Japanese Colonization in the Philippines. (I kind of… forgot the year, just look it up if you have some time.) In short, it’s very old. It was built, burned down, built, destroyed by the earthquake, and built again.

It is a three-story building with rumors of having a 4th floor at full moon (But I don’t buy the full moon b*llsh*t, cause it happened in the light of the day, you’ll know later). There are also rumors of an underground bunker (since it was war-time an all).

The Bordner building used to be a hospital which was turned into a comfort women brothels (you know, those women used by Japanese and Korean soldiers as sex slaves). Anyway, this was an experience when I was in seventh grade. No one actually knew about it because I fear they would laugh at me and call me a hoax propagator or something… anyway it went like this

I am inside this old, seemingly creaky building, forsaken by age. Devoid of anything new. The floor is rose-red, stained with the blood of time? Nah, maybe it’s just some floor wax. I observe the cement walls as the cracks run down from the ceiling. What a pity. This could have been something, but this is one sturdy building I must say. It has endured the grim reminder of time. Even though the whole thing could collapse at any moment if I punch a column or two.

Looks like the stairs made of stone and cement. They seem alright, except that I notice a steel bearing running down from the top floor. I guess the building has some support after all. It came all the way from the third floor I guess? I’m not really sure because I saw three floors outside but it looks like four in the inside. Boy this building is weird.

I climb up to the second floor. White tiles run across the hallway. No one is here and my god is it creepy. The silence is so disturbing. It’s like a separate dimension from the outside world. The windows are broken, I guess children did it. The doors are old brown wood feasted by termites. These little critters creep me out. They have always did since I was a child. There is a fork at the end of the hallway which leads to some place I’d honestly not want to explore.

I proceed to the third floor. The room suddenly feels like it expanded. The ceiling is higher than usual. I am a claustrophilic person. Meaning, I enjoy tight spaces or smaller spaces than the large ones. The floor is creaky wood, making a sound every step I make.

The building is devoid of people, but I feel something… It’s full of emotion. Not happiness but rather resentment and sadness. Like an old man abandoned by his children. I rushed down to the second floor. That is where I saw the first person in this building. It’s a child, holding a teddy bear facing away from me. It was a full three seconds before the child walked into the fork I mentioned a while ago. And oh my, I feel like my guts were blown inside out. I see the child’s bloody face stare blankly into the nothingness as it walks away.

I ran as fast as I could to get out of the building. But the building itself feels like it’s getting larger and larger by the moment. I finally get to the door and run out into the open area in front of the building. As I look back I see that the door is already chained. If so how did I get in?

The sky is crimson red. There are unmoving cars in the street, but I’m sure with one thing, there was no sound, not one. The silence was deafening. I was going mad, it was then when I wake up and find myself on a floor next to the third.

Did I make it out? Duh, how am I even typing right now… but some say that if you stay there long enough, the staircase will be endless and you’ll be trapped forever. I’ve got to say that incredibly hyperbolic right there but to be honest, there was a different air when I was there. It was very thin and I was having a bit of difficulty breathing. I couldn’t describe the whole floor since looking at it made me queasy and I focused on getting our as quick as possible, but if you want an explanation on how it looked like, the picture below comes close:

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Yes, it was an empty room with one window for some odd reason. It had a wooden floor. The room was huge. there was only once staircase that leads down and it feels like it’s gonna break any second.

Honestly, there’s more to this Building than what meets the eye. So far I’ve only been the to the fourth floor. If I have time (which I highly doubt) I’ll try to find the entrance to this “bunker” the old janitor once told me. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it…

if I find it and make it back alive at least.