So we had to do a horror story in my creatice writting class and i am super lazy, so i decided to read through my first stroy i wrote three years ago and make it better. I hope you like it :)
"Help me Elisa!" screamed my dad from inside the burning house.
"Help me." he kept calling out my name. The trees caught fire and the smoke was choking me. It smelt like a BBQ on crack. All of a sudden a line of smoke and fire cleared and there was the man.
"Elisa, why did you run away?" he pulled out a knife that gleamed in the moonlight.
"The fun was just starting." He said, the cynical smile growing bigger on his face. His eyes started glowing yellow and sharp fangs protruded from his gums. Black wings sprouted from his back, and a deafening scream sounded from him. I covered my ears and screamed as loud as I could as he fell on me with the knife.
I sat straight up in bed, a cold sweat running down the small of my back and my neck. I looked around, the sun just leaking through the blinds. The radiant colors of morning painted my room in burgundy and orange. Besides me, the bed was empty; an imprint of Devon’s body left where he slept. I got out of the safe comfort of my bed and walked to the bathroom, shivering as my bare feet hit the cold floor. I ran the cool water and splashed it on my face looking in the mirror. That dream came back.
"Mommy, are you okay?" I jumped at the sudden voice, turning to see my sweet little girl.
"Yeah, honey. Just go back to bed."
“Ok.” She rubbed her eyes and lazily walked back to bed.
It's been exactly 6 years today. Tears formed in my eyes as I recall the horrific events of my past. What would have happened if I hadn't run away? I shook my head, clearing it of any thoughts I didn’t want to remember.
I ran back to my room, shut and locked the door, and turned the light on. Under my bed was a dusty box that I hid from the world, and me. Just touching the old box brought back horrible memories.
I opened the gingerly opened the box, not wanting to disturb the contents of it. Inside was a gray jumpsuit that was tattered and stained with blood. In big block letters the number 19 was printed. 19. That number was and is a curse. I picked up the suit and set it down. Under it is pictures and newspaper clippings. "MURDERER STILL NOT BEEN FOUND!" said one. "TRAGIC DEATH OF FBI AGENT", "LOCK YOUR DOORS, THE ST.CLAIRE KILLER STILL NOT FOUND" ugh, I hate that name.
To tell you my story we have to go back about six years. I was just turning 19. Life was good. I had a scholarship to a nice college, had a ton of friends, and a boyfriend that I was undoubtedly in love with. I got straight A's, and was an excellent softball player.
A day after I got the news of getting a scholarship, my friends and I took a road trip to Canada, were the legal drinking age is 19. After two days of drinking and partying, I had to get home before my parents killed me. Little did I know that would be the event that would flip my world upside down.
As I pulled up to my house everything looked fine. That changed when I walked in. pictures were smashed, the couch was torn and flipped over, the water was running and there were wholes along the wall.
"Mom, dad? Are you here?" no answer.
I ran through the entire house until I found a note taped to the fridge. It was written in a fast messy script.
Dear Elisa,
I know you don’t know me, but I have a bit of a favor to ask you. It’s nothing big. I just need you to kill a few people for me. And if you don’t, I will kill your parents and your boyfriend. I will be constantly watching you. If you try to run, I will kill your family. If you contact the police, I will kill your family. If you try to find me, I will kill your family. Please try and be cooperative, unlike your parents. They put up a tough fight, as I am sure you can see from the condition of your house. Kill these people.
