My spooky story begins with pillow cases for candy, decorating the front yard with cornstalks, carved pumpkins and paper cutouts of witches and cats.
We had a big cardboard skeleton we hung from the tree outside, and a spooky record playing over and over on the stereo. It was this
We'd turn it up and scare kids that came to the door with pull string ghosts and flashlights. This is the 60s, we were really into it. After a bit we
got bored and headed out with our empty pillow cases, to fill our own goody pile...
The high school kids would then show up, race around the block in their muscle cars, tossing raw eggs at kids out the windows. They did this every
One year I decided to get_them_ back. I planned the operation beforehand making sure mom bought two extra crates of eggs so I could hand them out to
the kids. I remember we went around the corner and up the road the hi schoolers attack us every year on, and waited.
Sure enough, here they come, vroom-room, splata-splat bombing the kids as they went-- right as the car went by I tossed an egg at the side window and
to my abject horror it went right in and splattered the occupants. A couple more hit the back window as they sped by, suddenly accelerating to clear
the field of fire. They had no idea little kids would do that. Halfway down the block they screeched to a halt, the reverse lights came on and they
began to accelerate backwards weaving in the road, faster and faster--
...we ran, we ran and we ran to get away but it was no use, they pulled up and screeched to a stop, all of them jumping out and Then-- they
chased some other kids down the street the other way... so we got away.
Sorry its not very spooky, but it was for us. We thought we little kids were dead, pounded to death by high schoolers who dished it out but couldn't
take it. That run down the street to get away from a muscle car full of pissed off big kids was the best most scary Halloween I had as a young kid.
Driver quickened his pace, hearing approaching footsteps behind him. He turned two corners quickly and stopped, listening for his pursuer. Hearing
nothing but fearing the worst he continued hurriedly on his way.
"What madness is this that drives me ever onward in to a spiral of depravity and self-destruction...?" he thought.
He wandered further into the more restriced and less well-lit part of the city, pulling his hat down to avoid recognition all the while his body
leading him in an almost unnatural fashion to the root of his demonic, unholy and possibly unhealthy desires.
The smell of a plant, so unmistakeable, so fragrant, so powerful and so mind-bending was truly a terrifying thing to behold, especially at night. As
if his body was controlled by a demon, he walked towards the plant. It shone and scintillated with an almost un-plant-like quality.
Making sure no one was observing him, Driver approached the plant slowly, knelt before it and uttered a short prayer in an unknown language. The light
changed to a less agressive tone and seemed to invite him. Moving slowly he plucked one of the mystical beans offered by the now more than animate
plant and bowed low before it.
"May the Hallowed sing your praises and may the Doomed sing your curses for evermore." he said, stepping away slowly from the plant of the holy.
Driver walked back to his campfire with a large smile. "Time for coffee..."
Monica awakened with a start, her motherly “sixth sense” SCREAMING at her that something was terribly wrong. She jumped up out of bed,
instinctively flicked the lights on and hurried out into the hallway. Her nerves were jangling, the hairs on her arms and neck sticking straight out
in alarm... her ears straining to hear the faintest sign of danger, but all seemed... quiet.
She edged her way down the hall and paused outside the twin’s bedroom door before gently teasing it open. The faint snuffling sounds of a snoozing
9yr old made her relax a little and her “hackles” began to settle down as she stepped into the room and across to where child number two was
The room was only dimly lit and it was hard to make out any detail in the shapes & shadows there, so she reached out and picked up the little
“Minions” night-light from Emmie’s bedside cabinet and held it up close to her pillow to get a better look at her.
Monica froze in terror as she saw the blood-stains on Emmie’s pillow case and teddy bear, her eyes widening with horror as she took in the
blood-soaked carnage that lay before her.
Poor little Emmie was dead, a broken pair of scissors jutting out from her lifeless corpse.
It was too much for Monica to bear and she let out one long heart-wrenching and horrific scream – waking the snoozing Lucy who sat bolt-upright in
her bed across the room, blinking.
When Monica looked over at Lucy, she saw that she too was covered in blood, but strangely it was just on her hands and arms.
Her mind raced back to when the girls were going to bed a few hours before; the arguments and the fight that ended with Lucy saying she was going to
“Get Emmie and Get her Good!”
Lucy glanced down at her hands, saw the blood and the look on her mum’s face and screamed aloud:
“It wasn’t me mum, it wasn’t me!!!
Teddy did it... it wasn’t me!”
Monica stood up quivering with shock and confusion and rage. She walked over to little Lucy, grabbed her by the wrists and marched her out of the
Teddy just shrugged and pulled the covers up tight around his blood-soaked neck.... smiling contentedly at a job well-done.
It had taken several months of reading, researching, collecting the things she needed, but Julie now had the sea salt, the black, white, red, green
and blue candles, the little scraps of paper with her notes on, the pewter goblet, the chicken and the other items listed in her copy of the
She had started out, initially, just reading up on the web, looking into some of the stuff hinted at by by the bands she listened to. Gothic horror
gave way to more esoteric pursuits, she trawled the web and second hand book stores until one day, she found a tattered incomplete, leather bound book
that contained what she recognised as a summoning ritual for a demon.
She had read enough to know that demons guarded their summoning names with a pathological jealousy and realised instantly the value of this little
book, containing as it did, a name. A cursory look over the rest convinced her that this was an actual summoning spell and not the work of some goth
kid trying to make Saturday night more exiting. She paid the money and all but ran home to read and re read the volume. She checked and double
checked, cross referenced and read until her eyes felt gritty and her vision blurred.
She was ready. She stood in the centre of a salt circle, thirteen feet in diameter, A five pointed star laid within and each point bearing a candle to
symbolize one of the ancient elements that make up reality. Looking across, her eyes fell on the triangle of art, each of the three points home to a
simple white candle, a small, brass censor in the middle spewing a lazy stream of incense smoke curling up into the trees.
She had come out here, because no matter where she looked in her home there was no floor that didn't contain water or gas pipes, power cables or phone
or internet lines. It was a lucky find in a work of fiction, mentioning such things that had stopped her trying to call this demon in her home, the
presence of any of these things would break the circle and leave her at the mercy of the demon. That was why she was stood alone in a small wooden
clearing out in the middle of nowhere.
She took a breath, the air chill as it pinked the skin of her cheeks and she carefully turned to face the North, her black boots scuffing the dirt.
Her attention acute as she made sure to not touch any of the salt. She began the ritual, cutting the neck of the chicken to let its warm blood fill
the goblet and spoke the words she had memorised, made the gestures with her fingers at the right ponts, dispelling all doubts as she went and
finally, let the silence fall around her.
Nothing seemed different, the candles burned as they had before, the night air continued to chill her. She as just about to throw down the small
silver dagger and storm off home when a thought came to her and she stopped. Her foot an inch from the chalkline. Carefully pulling it back she
pointed the dagger at the triangle and said “Show yourself Kishatar. By my command”
The three white candles flared, the smoke billowed from the censer and seemed to form the shadowy, indistinct, female shape of the demon.
“Oooh clever, clever little thing. Aren't you deary?” The figure said. Her voice dripping with condescension and her hand coming up to make the
invisible wall of her triangle flare brightly where her smoky fingertips touched it. “Seems you have a knack for details, hmmm? What is it then,
little girl, that makes you demand I cross into your realm this night? Tell me and let me be gone”
Julie shook her head, the long black dreads swinging as she tried to focus, the whole little speech appearing in her mind as images, not sounds, she
blinked but the second sight held and she tried to formulate in her mind a reply, her throat closed tightly as she seemed to hover between worlds.
“I want” she sent, then abandoned the thought and pictured herself surrounded by gold, imagined all the knowledge of the world reflected in her
eyes and cringed as she pictured the look on her face at the moment of climax, but sent it anyway. “All this and more” she thought.
The demon laughed and seemed to bow its head. “Done”...she felt it like a chill in her belly, that deal being struck and then she quickly banished
the demon, incanted the spell of unbinding and swept the area with her second sight before scratching her toe over the salt line to break the circle
and end the summoning completely. She almost ran back to the car, drove way over the posted speed and spent a full minute with her back against the
door of her room as she thought about the enormity of what she had done and, if she had finally gone insane as so many people had hinted was her
She never did wake up, her parents found her in a coma and she was transferred to a specialist unit.
Back across the abyssal planes though, she learned that Kishatar was a slaver and had written the scruffy little book herself to trap the more
promising toys. She had also learned that a circle could be broken by her phone sending out a signal to poll the nearest cell tower...Not that it
would do her any good now as she cowered in her gilded cage, broken and wasted while her Owner awaited the next summons.
edit on 19pThu, 26 Oct
2017 18:12:19 -050020172017-10-26T18:12:19-05:00kAmerica/Chicago31000000k by SprocketUK because: spelling
Hello Boils and Ghouls. I bet you never expected the Crypt Keeper to show up at ATS. You know, I have a lot of spare time on my hands
lately....especially the hands that were buried with their watches!
Oh now, don't be like that! They didn't need their watches anymore...or their hands! Losing a hand is nothing compared to losing your mind.
Terrible isn't it? How your own mind can betray you. So many times we think we saw something and it turns out there's always a logical
explanation, always some way to explain it away. It doesn't really matter if the logic and reason you use actually makes sense, it is bound to make
more sense than the alternative....
One man though, he found out the hard way that logic and reason can take you just as deep down the rabbit hole as anything else. So deep in fact, that
there is no way for you to crawl back out.... I often find it hard to crawl back out from six foot under myself. But, unlike Sam, I haven't lost my
head ...or my mind, yet.
Let's hope he has a nice strong rope!
It's Only Logical
There is a tale from long ago. A tale that very few people know. The ghouls who hold the strongest power, are the ones, who come, during the devils
Sam sat up in bed and looked around the room. He could've swore he heard something. The creaking of the floorboards, the opening and closing of a
door. Looking at his clock he sees it's 3 a.m. again. Damn man, every day this week. He lets out an exasperated sigh. Throwing the covers
back, he begins what has become a nightly ritual of checking for intruders. He knew he wouldn't find anything, he never found anything.
This had been going on for weeks now. Sam was always able to find a logical reason for it though. The first time he heard it he called the cops, they
found nothing obviously. The second time he went through and screwed down all the floor boards. The third time he put new flooring in. He had locks
installed on all the doors and the hinges replaced as well.
None of that mattered. The noises still woke him in the wee hours of the night. Ever since he'd moved in, weird # has been happening. He knew what 3
a.m. was, the devils hour. And he also knew that October was known to have an increase in paranormal activity. . But he never believed in that stuff.
There was always a rational explanation for anything that occurred out of the ordinary in his life. And this would be no different, he
After making his way through the house there was only one place left to check, the basement. As he walked towards the door he noticed that it was set
ajar slightly. A frigid air was coming through and a rancid aroma caught his nose as he pulled the door wide open and felt for the light switch.
Great, no lights. Flipping on his flashlight, he walks down the creaking stairs slowly. Each step pulling him deeper and deeper into the darkness.
On the final step, he panned the flashlight around the room, getting his bearings. In the corner he noticed something crouching. A black figure that
seemed to be staring up at him. Flashing the light back at it to get a better view, he realizes it was just the shadow from one of the old chairs he
stored down here and moves forward.
It wasn't until he was at the farthest point away from the door that he heard it slowly close and the creaking of the steps as someone made their way
down them. He swings around to watch as the footsteps continue along the floor, heading straight for him. If there was someone there though, the
flashlight didn't reveal them.
Sam thought he must have a pest infestation. He would call an exterminator in the morning. Feeling the hair stand up on his neck, he moves toward the
basement stairs, towards whatever was coming at him. He thought that the animal would scurry away once they heard him move. But they just kept moving
forward with the same slow, rhythmic steps they had been taking.
He was getting a bit concerned now, but refused to let his fears take hold. This was silly, there was nothing there, he saw no one! Gathering up all
his courage he quicken his pace to match his pounding heart and as his own footsteps met the opposing ones he lets out a small gasp of fear. Then he
steps past and continues to make his way to the stairs.
Just as he thought, there was nothing there. Not a mouse, not a ghost or demon or shadow...nothing. It was as it's always been, just his mind playing
tricks on him. Just his imagination running wild. But he was still going to call an exterminator today, just in case.
He smiles as he places his foot upon the bottom step, grabbing the hand rail for support. His smile quickly changes into a look of fear as he feels
something grab onto his shirt, trying to pull him back into the dark. He drops the flashlight and grabs the hand rail with both hands, looking up at
the door that was just a few feet away.
He holds on tight, using all his strength to pull himself upwards, somehow knowing that if he made it to the door, he would survive. Yet, he was
losing. Whatever had a hold of him was never letting go. Finally, some reason comes to his mind. The way the thing was tugging on him, it was a
constant, steady tug. Only happening when he tried to pull forward. This was nothing supernatural.
He stops struggling and looks over his shoulder. His shirt was being pulled at by an old wire he'd got hooked on. Picking up his flashlight, he frees
himself from the wire and starts his journey back up the stairs. Tomorrow he was going to call a electrician out here to fix the lights and wiring.
All the way up the stairs he thinks about all the silly things people believe in and how everything has a logical explanation. Everything can be
explained with reason.
He opens the basement door and looks up. The headless body standing in front of him reaches out and pushes Sam hard on the chest. Sam loses his
balance and falls backwards, tumbling to the bottom of the stairs. Somehow, he'd managed to get his head entangled in the wire as his body falls to
the floor. The two become separated and the head thumps its way down to the bottom of the steps, landing ironically, right next to his feet. The wide
eyed, shocked look of horror engraved onto his face.
The headless man waits at the top of the stairs. Once the head falls to the floor, he walks down the stairs closing the door behind him. Picking up
Sam's head, he places it on his shoulders. Laughing a maniacal laugh as he walks into the eternal shadows of the night.
edit on 29-10-2017 by blend57 because: Always an edit : /
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