#spooky season short stories

[journeyoflights]

PART 1: The Harvest

[hotdrinks]

I meant WHO is Jon?

A fella

[ID a very simplified sketch of Jon sims sitting with his legs straight out, holding a tape recorder and frowning deeply. Three disembodied eyes hover behind him and look at him. End ID]

[dionysus-and-the-bacchantes]

"It's really frightening when a girl of sixteen has to think things like that." In my day, he thought of saying mockingly, girls thought of nothing but cocktails and necking. "I'm seventeen." She looked up and smiled at him again. "There's a terrible difference," she said.

- Shirley Jackson, "The Intoxicated"

[llewellynsoddities]

• today I woke up with my bones and veins outside of my body. I’ve felt so fragile and vulnerable. With every step I took I felt my bones deteriorate bit by bit. Every itch I scratched, blood slowly seeped into the floor below me. As I sat in bed, my bones crackled on the soft surface. Even feeling so fragile, my behavior didn’t change. I still walked hurriedly, scratched furiously, and sat abruptly. I lay in bed now, every movement causing my bones to clack and my veins to twist wondering how relaxation is possible

[candlelightkiss]

They saw us as reckless, but we called ourselves poets. Our scraped knees relay stories of nights past nine, flourishing beneath the moonlight. The scabs on our palms scream and sting when the paper meets the flesh, but the words trail seamlessly, almost desperately, into its pages. Worn lines on our cheeks from sunken smiles were not a testament of exhaustion, but excitement.

An idylist craves the ventures that tell its tales. So we ran. We carried the burdens through fire and water, for our love. We foraged through the piles of dried leaves littered on the pavement.

"Don't let go of this hand," and we drove in headfirst, fearless. Because at least we know that when the night is coming down on us, we will find a way through the dark.

[dark-ethereal-visions]

WHISPERS FROM HELL

A collection of the haunted & horrific tales by horror author & A.I.A. Member E.J. V'Kanty. Explore the #paranormal realm with these #shortstories about #hauntings, #demons, and other #mystical entities.

Whispers From Hell: Can Melvin defeat the evil that has become so obsessed with him, or will he succumb to the Whispers From Hell? Kylie's Reality: When a displaced soul becomes obsessed with her, can Julia Daniels find a way to help her without having to submit to Kylie's Reality? Brette's Discovery: Can anything stop a new predator from devouring a small town, or will all of humanity be lost to Brette's Discovery? A Requiem For The Damned: Will Evan follow the royal guardian of a secluded village and be granted access to youth eternal, or will he risk his own life and that of his wife's to provide A Requiem For The Damned? Princesses: At the final moment, when she has one last opportunity to save herself, will this lonely woman choose the light or become a feast for the Princesses?

Night Terrors: Caught in the midst of a battle between demons and displaced souls, can Lydia and her neighbors prove themselves superior or will they be lost within their own Night Terrors? Borrowed Time: Can a mysterious girl teach Brent to forgive, before he runs out of Borrowed Time? Into The Realm Of The Lunatic: Dr. Shauna Adams becomes overwhelmed in a world where reality converges with memories, dreams, and fantasies, but can she find the truth, before she delves too deep Into The Realm Of The Lunatic? For Everything, A Season: When Fate pays her a visit, will Elmira Trumble continue to fight or can she accept that there is For Everything, A Season?

KINDLE PAPERBACK NOOK

[wavyhairedvixen]

fandom: (heavily inspired by) Bram Stoker’s Dracula

tags: smut, vampire, adult content, f/m relationship, readerxDracula, shortstory

Contains 18+ content

Holiday gone awry

Chapter 1

As you peered out of the window of the cab you could see the outlines of what seemed to be a castle on top of a nearby hill. The moon was full and the trees cast eerie shadows along the road leading up the hill. A howl could be heard in the distance sending shivers down your spine.

“What was that?” You asked the taxi driver.

“Nothing you should be concerned about, Miss,” answered the scruffy looking cabby in a bored tone.

Suddenly everything went dark as a cloud obscured the moon and the howling became louder. Your blood froze in your veins when you heard the panting and growling of the creatures of the forest. You peeked out of the window again and saw hundreds of red eyes glowing in the dark creeping closer to the vehicle.

Suddenly as the cloud passed and the moonlight illuminated the land once again the frightening sight was gone just like the howls and growls of the hounds of hell.

“What were those creatures?” You asked with a trembling voice.

The pale skinned man exchanged a quick look with you and shrugged, turning his stoic gaze back to the road.

The car came to a halt as it reached the main entrance of the castle. You quickly hopped out of the vehicle and hurried to the wooden porch of the gothic mansion. The chilly air carried the smell of earth and damp leaves. You knocked on the monstrous ironbound door a few times before it opened with a creaking sound. To your surprise there was a tall shadow leaning onto the doorframe. For a brief moment, you forgot all the horrors you had encountered along your journey and just stood there, admiring the man in front of you. He was around six feet tall, wearing a black turtleneck sweater that complemented his icy blue eyes, pale skin and slicked-back raven hair. He greeted you with a genuine smile and a flicker of mischief in his gaze.

“Good evening, Miss y/n! Please come in, and let Pierre take care of your luggage.”

He stepped aside, motioning toward the hall of the building. As soon as you stepped over the treshold, the heavy oak door closed with a loud thud. The butler didn’t even bother to look at you as he took your bags.

“Good evening! You must be Mr. Awry, it’s nice to meet you!” You smiled and held out a hand to the man.

The man took your hand and planted a kiss on your knuckle. „It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Miss y/n!” he greeted you and gently assisted in taking off your coat. „I will show you to your room after dinner,” explained the tall man. “Now, please follow me! I assume you must be tired after the long trip from the city to my residence,” he went on as he led you into a spacious room. The walls were covered with crimson-colored tapestry and Persian rugs were scattered all over the floor.

There was a fireplace at the far end of the room , with a large wooden dining table stretching in front of it. Paintings adorned the walls, some of them depicting mythological tales. You recognized the one closest to you which showed the Abduction of Persephone. In the middle of the picture stood a strong man – Hades - holding the graceful body of Persephone, whom the god of the underworld kidnapped and took to the realm of the dead. Due to the gloomy atmosphere of the room you couldn’t make out the rest of the paintings covering the walls between the pieces of mahogany furniture. Cabinets were filled with different types of relics - daggers, vials, armor, and jewelry. You followed your host to the dining table which was already set for two.

“Please, take a seat!” said the man as he pulled out a chair for you.

“This place is beautiful!” you marveled at your surroundings while taking a seat. “Your home is a work of art, Mr. Awry!”

The count’s lips curled into a smile at your remark as he opened a bottle of red wine.

“Tell me, what lives in the forest? On my way here I think I saw something…unusual,” you frowned.

“Oh, those were just wild boars, my dear. You don’t have to worry about them!” the count reassured you with an amused smile.

He poured a glass of wine for you as he feasted his eyes on you for a moment before taking a seat across from you. You were bewitching, like a temptress with your long wavy ginger hair that appeared golden in the dim candlelight. You were practically starving, so you dug into your dinner and didn’t pay much attention to the man’s hungry gaze. As you took a sip of wine to wash down the food, you glanced at your host. He was intimidating, with his broad shoulders, strong arms, and eyes sparkling with curiosity. Even though you had just met this stranger, you felt somehow drawn to him.

“I heard you write books, Miss y/n,” remarked the man. His voice was deep and calming, having a soothing effect on your nerves. “And I also heard that your books are… rather exciting,” the count went on, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked at you with such an intense stare that you felt like the man could read your thoughts. “Could you tell me about your next novel?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and circling the edge of his glass with his middle finger.

You blushed a deep shade of red and took another sip from your wine. You didn’t expect your host to be so well-informed about your passion of writing.

“Well I have some ideas for my next book. It’s going to be a crime story. The main reason I came here is because I need to spend some time alone so I can focus on what I love doing the most. It is only a hobby, but it means so much to me,” you rambled with enthusiasm. “Oh, and thank you for the dinner, Mr. Awry. It was delicious! And the wine too!” You stopped, being suddenly aware of your host’s hungry gaze on you.

The man stood up and walked over to you with the bottle of wine in his hand. He poured you another glass and sat down next to you. He was so close that you could smell his intoxicating cologne. You fiddled with the napkin in your lap as you stared at the elaborate details on the piece of cloth.

“You’re welcome Miss y/n! It is my pleasure to have such a beautiful and intelligent company as you are,” Mr. Awry said on a soft tone and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you would like, I would gladly show you the land surrounding my property tomorrow,” the count offered as he took one of your tiny hands in his big ones.

“I would appreciate that Mr. Awry,” you muttered the words with a smile and felt your face heat up again.

“Please, call me James,” said the man and stroked your hand with his thumb gently.

“I think it’s time for me to get some rest. Could you show me to my room, please?” you asked, pulling your hand away from the count. You were so confused – you felt a burning desire towards this handsome stranger; however, you weren’t sure if he could be trusted. As you got up from your seat you clumsily knocked over your glass with your hand. It fell off the table, shattering on the wooden floor into tiny pieces. You bent down to collect the shards from the ground.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologized.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it!” the count insisted as he crouched down next to you.

“Damn it!” You cursed through clenched teeth as a sharp piece of glass cut into the palm of your hand.

“Are you all right?” asked the count and grabbed your hand to inspect the wound. He pecked a kiss on your palm where the glass had cut it and then licked away the blood. He kept his hungry eyes locked with yours for a moment before snapping out of his feral state.

"There’s no need to rush, little one…" the count whispered, his eyes locked onto yours as he released your hand.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, and you were torn between the urge to run out the door and the desire to stay with this alluring and probably unhinged man. As you weighed your options he got up and wallked to a cabinet, which he opened to pour himself a glass of ruby-colored beverage. After quickly downing it, he turned around and grabbed the edge of the table keeping his eyes on the ground.

"Is everything all right?" Your voice barely above a whisper, taking a cautious step towards him.

The count lifted his chin to meet your gaze, his eyes bloodshot – no, not bloodshot, rather glowing red, just like the eyes of those creatures you encountered in the forest – from whatever he had consumed. He placed one of his hands on the small of your back, pulling you towards him, and pressed his lips to yours in a deep and passionate kiss. You parted your lips so the count’s tongue could enter your mouth and caress yours. As you devoured each other with long, sensual strokes, the count grabbed your bottom with both hands and gave it a firm squeeze. A small moan escaped your lips as he pressed you against the bulge in his pants. You passionately tugged on the man’s lower lip earning a growl from him. The count pulled away from you, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of his sharp fangs. Your eyes widened in shock as you finally put the pieces together. You swallowed nervously, heart pounding in your chest.

"Do not fret y/n, I won’t hurt you…" He murmured and wrapped one hand around your throat.

Your breath hitched as you felt a strange mix of fear and excitement wash over you. He kissed you, this time more ferociously. You sucked on the count’s tongue in response, earning a growl from him.

“You‘ve got potential I must admit…” He chuckled as he brushed his lips along your neck.

He stopped just above your collarbone, and planted a soft kiss on your smooth skin, then tenderly grazed his teeth over the same spot. He planted a few more kisses along your neck, before whispering in your ear, “Your body is exquisite. I wonder what you taste like…” As he whispered the words, his hands travelled to your waist, relishing every inch of your figure.

Then he pulled the strap of your dress down your shoulder, baring one of your breasts. He bent down to wrap his mouth around your nipple, sucking on your sensitive bud. With one skillful hand he pulled up your skirt and stroked over your mound with his dexterous fingers, then cupped it, squeezing it gently.

“So wet already…” He sighed and his nostrils flared as he noticed the sign of your arousal.

You could smell the sweet scent of musk mixed with leather, and a hint of oak on him, which made your core heat up with desire. You felt as if he had put a spell on you.

Suddenly the tall man lifted you and carried you to a nearby sofa next to the fireplace, positioning you so that your hips hung slightly off the edge. He tore the front of the delicate fabric of your dress so that your body was completely exposed. He got rid of your underwear in a quick manner and threw it aside. Then he swiftly put your thighs around his strong shoulders as he got on his knees. He kissed his way down your belly slowly before he buried his face into your cunt. He started to eat you out relentlessly — he pushed his stiff tongue against your clit and licked it with quick and vigorous laps.

“You taste so bloody delicious darling,” Grumbled the count as he placed one palm over your stomach just below your navel to put a little pressure on it.

The vibrations of his deep voice almost sent you over the edge. He licked up the juices leaking from your entrance then licked over your clit again, occasionally sucking, and nibbling on it. You arched your back, pushing your pussy into the man’s face. In response he grabbed your waist with both hands, squeezing it tightly while keeping you in place. As you got closer to your climax the count pushed one finger into your pussy.

“Oh, you’re so tight… Your cunny is perfect.” He groaned as he pushed in a second finger and started to slowly move them in and out curling his fingers while doing so.

You moaned and thrashed around in the his strong grip as you felt your orgasm approaching — pussy so swollen and throbbing that it was almost painful now. The earl felt that you were close to your climax, so he stopped licking your bud and instead started to pepper kisses along the insides of your thighs.

“Please, let me cum!” you whimpered and thrusted your hips toward the man. “Don’t torture me…please!” you pleaded.

The earl smiled and brushed his fingertips along the outside of your thighs as he started to lick your clit again with long lazy laps. You bit your lip as you felt your orgasm building up anew. He pushed two of his fingers into you again and started massaging your sweet spot while lapping at your swollen bud. You grabbed his hair, lightly scraping his scalp with your nails as you felt utter bliss flush through your body. Your walls clenched around his fingers as your muscles contracted, while juice started oozing out of your pussy, dripping down the count’s hand. Like a starved man he drank up every ounce of your arousal and licked his fingers clean.

Your pussy was still oversensitive, and you were extremely turned on. You wanted to feel his cock inside you. As you propped yourself up on your elbows the man unbuckled his belt with one hand and took off his pants. You lunged forward and pulled down his underwear, letting his manhood spring free. He was well-endowed — precum dripping from the tip of his long and thick cock. You pulled back the skin with one hand and put the tip in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head of the penis and sucked on it, relishing his taste then started to bob your head back and forth. He combed through your hair with his long fingers, grabbing the back of your head tenderly, guiding you to take him deeper. You obeyed and let him slide into your throat, moaning around his shaft. You tried to relax but you couldn’t keep yourself from gagging. As the muscles in your throat squeezed his cock he let out a shaky breath.

“You’re doing amazing, my little vixen,” he murmured peering down at you.

He thrusted into your mouth a few times before he pulled out.

“I want to cum in that tight pussy of yours. Now get on your back and spread your legs,” he commanded, and as soon as you were on your back, he wedged himself between your thighs.

He slid his cock in, and begun thrusting his hips. In this position the tip of his penis was rubbing right against your sweet spot. As he picked up the pace you felt another orgasm building in your belly, however this time the sensation was much more intense than anything you had ever experienced. The count grunted as he thrusted into you, and he was so hot. His strong and hairy chest and broad shoulders gave him a statuesque appearrance, not to mention his pale skin that glistened like marble in the dim lighting.

As he kept fucking you, you started to feel the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm approaching. And then you came, your walls spasming around his cock, squeezing it repeatedly as you reached your high. However it didn’t stop there, you kept coming as he fucked you roughly. You felt orgasm rushing through your body over and over sending you straight to heaven - you felt like floating, your pussy and belly quivering with each orgasm. When the count couldn’t hold back any longer, he came as well, and you felt his hot seed spill into you. After he filled you with his cum he bent down to plant a kiss on your neck. He nibbled gently on the soft skin, then grazed his sharp fangs over the mark he left.

You were still in your post orgasmic haze when the man pulled himself out of you, and scooped you up into his arms, carrying you up the stairs into his bedroom. He lay you down onto a bed and tucked you in. Then he lied next to you and ran his fingers through your hair as he kissed your forehead.

“Goodnight my sweet y/n…” he whispered in your ear while stroking your shoulder.

You snuggled up to him and let out a sigh as you drifted off to sleep.

[dontbestingybaby]

“[Ghost-stories] are things of the imagination, born there, bred there, sprung from the strange confused heaps, half-rubbish, half-treasure, which lie in our fancy, heaps of half-faded recollections, of fragmentary vivid impressions, litter of multi-colored tatters, and faded herbs and flowers, whence arises that odor (we all know it), musty and damp, but penetratingly sweet and intoxicatingly heady, which hangs in the air when the ghost has swept through the unopened door, and the flickering flames of candle and fire start up once more after waning.”

from Hauntings and Other Fantastic Tales by Vernon Lee

[the-crowbar-was-my-kryptonite]

Inktober Day 1: Dream

Their friendship wasn’t a matter of probability, it was a matter of fate. They found each other in every lifetime.

Sandy sat alone at the far end of an otherwise crowded table in the creepateria with her head nestled in her folder arms. She was in that magical phase of sleep when she could navigate her dreams with ease while still hearing the hum of the world around her.

Her partial awareness was why she felt the dip of the bench beneath her, and  heard someone hoist themselves up onto the table.

Just needed a few more minutes . . . 

But fate was not so kind.

“Come on, get up,” Valentina said, nudging Sandy with the tip of her Chelsea boot, “you sleep more than I do, and I’m nocturnal.”

Sandy raised her head slightly and gave Valentina her best stink eye, which was, by all accounts, very aggressive.

“That’s literally not at all how that works,” she said. She lowered her head back onto the table, but after a few moments of silence, she gave up. I guess I’m awake now, she thought bitterly. She turned to see Aspen sneering down at his lunch tray.

“This is definitely not vegan” he muttered, poking at the ghoulash piled high on his plate.

Valentina rolled her eyes and reached into her bag, pulling out a tombler from her backpack.

“Here, I got you a green smoothie from the Coffin Bean on my way in this morning. Because I actually read the menu on the school’s website.”

Now it was Sandy’s turn to roll her eyes. She wasn’t quite sure how much older Valentina was than the rest of them, but she had definitely taken on the ‘mother’ role in the group. She had already placed a scream-which in front of Sandy - correctly assuming that she had indeed forgotten to get lunch, and was dragging Aspen’s tray of forgotten food towards her.

“What,” she asked accusingly when Aspen side-eyed her. “I’m not vegan.”

Sandy couldn’t help but chuckle. She had no idea why their friendship worked, she just knew it did. At night, when she travelled through dreams into different realms and dimensions, she saw them: sometimes as witches at a magic school, sometimes as superhero teammates, and sometimes as human siblings (although that was by far the nightmare scenario). It’s why she hadn’t shied away from Valentina when she’d first invited her to lunch, and why she took the time to learn Aspen’s body language so that they could communicate without speaking. They were just meant to be.

//

Based on these Monster High OCs. All art by @cool_beans_jw on insta. Writing by her weird sister.

[journeyoflights]

PART 3: The Hunger

[robyn-weightman]

Has anyone else read a lot of short story collections recently?

[gotghost]

Missing

A young girl goes missing in a nearby forest. The whole town is searching for her. Her parents find her sitting and smiling in a cave. Her eyes are completely white

[rooksmoor-manor]

The Fountain; or, A Haunting Reflection!

Almost every regional folklore and legend contains fables and myths about fountains with prophetic waters or wish-granting wells. As it could not be otherwise, there is such a legend about one of the fountains in the gardens of Rooksmoor Manor. According to it, if you gaze upon its waters under certain circumstances, you will see the visage of your soulmate rather than your own reflection.

To find the origin of this story, one must go back in time to just after the Founder's passing. It was decided that his youngest son would serve as a temporary Keeper of the Manor while everyone else was busy planning the funerals. He is still regarded as a notable Keeper, not only for being the first person to hold the position but also because his tenure remains the shortest-lived one, lasting just a few days shy of a month.

The youngest son was an absolutely unremarkable person, which was a particularity here at Rooksmoor. If there was one thing that could be said about him, it was that he completely disregarded the beliefs of the rest of his family, considering them to be needless traditions at best or, at worst, stupid superstitions. Even though he was in his early twenties, he still had discovered neither his true self nor his purpose in life, and, therefore, he remained nameless. Perhaps he thought that by doing so, he was expressing his contempt for the family beliefs in another way. This does not imply, however, that he did not care about his family; he was still greatly affected by the passing of his father despite their differences.

Grief is quite a curious thing. It leads us down unexpected paths we were unaware existed deep within ourselves. In the case of the youngest child, he found himself actively breaking the most important customs and rules of the Manor, something he had never dared or was impossible to do while his father was still alive. In his journal, he wrote about most of his exploits, describing how the garden fountains were turned off, all the doors inside the manor were left ajar, and the lantern by the front door was left unlit at night. He maintained a frustrated, condescending tone in those reports, yet his attitude changed dramatically during his final week as keeper, becoming more erratic.

It all started the night he ventured outside for reasons unknown. Even though it was the same garden where he had grown up, there was something different that night under the faint light of the moon, something unsettling in the air—an eerie silence, now as the water was still since the fountains were off. He would never admit he was terrified, of course, but deep in his mind, he knew he had to fight his fear, as it was his rightful duty to prove to everyone how silly that whole ordeal was. "Water must always be running, or there must be no water in the basin at all," he remembered, almost mockingly, another one of his father's nonsensical rules.

As he peered over the brim of the fountain basin, his smug expression swiftly contorted into a grimace of terror. Instead of being greeted by the familiar vision of his own reflection, he found himself facing the visage of a stranger. A man with an outmoded hairdo, an empty expression, and a pair of sunken, glassy eyes, devoid of all life, staring back at him.

He remained awake for the rest of the night, and the following week was not kind to him either. He hardly ate anything, spending his days rambling in his journal, with a wicked fascination about that stranger. At night, he returned to the fountain, hours passing by examining the cadaveric, unmoving face in the water. Throughout the following seven nights, the youngest son claimed that his initial shock and dread gradually gave way to what he described as a silent understanding, a feeling of certain complicity, or even friendship.

The last lines in his journal were an apology to his father, signed around midnight. The morning after, his mother stopped by the Manor. She found him with two bottles of wine by his side, slouching over the fountain with his head submerged in the water, cold and dead.

[llewellynsoddities]

I often like to daydream about existing in a world much different from ours.

•my bones ached with regret as the warm sun awoke my slumbered body and soul. My long, porcelain skin wrapped limbs shook as they stretched out from my torso. The ground felt cold as my soft feet sunk down and my legs stood me up. The stray cat vocalized softly from behind the curtains, probably watching the morning birds. I groaned as my fingers gripped the cold quartz and glass vials.

Existence has been so strange since the night of rack and ruin. In a way, it feels much more natural, humane, and free....but, it's still eerie.

The vials chimed softly as I lifted the tops and dripped the cold liquid substances on my skin.

There aren't many people left here in Wither Brook, a few residents left in the city but I've stuck to the outskirts.

My scratched, scarred and cracking skin optimistically soaked in the substances contained by the vials.

I always felt weird visiting the city these days, the place used to be overpopulated! There were family shops lining every narrow, curvy street. Cafe's and Pub's used to keep the sidewalks lined with curious customers. Now its all overgrown, abandoned and decayed.

My shaky fingers placed each vial back in its place carefully.

The streets are lit by flickering lights, if at all, and theres a complete wave of silence over the whole town. The night of rack and ruin truly decimated the world and society I once knew.

My feet slipped into my, now very grungy but once soft and fluffy slippers.

Now a days most living things were trying to do just that, live. I spent most of my waking hours foraging for food, berries and other herbs that maybe used for medicine. I care for the stray cats and other animals I see around my small cabin. I cook the food I find and I mash the berries and herbs into my vials for medicinal use. I've simply survived since the night of rack and ruin. However, I crave more...

[edmond-monet]

something is rotting.

the smell pervades the house, wafting through the halls, seeping under the doorframes.

it’s subtle at first. easy to ignore. i turn on a fan and soon enough I’ve gone noseblind.

it’s been three days. I found a little mouse dead on the floor. it’s small. too small.

the smell gets worse. the fan is on all the time now. I put perfume under my nose to block it out. eventually, I grow numb.

a week. there is no escaping it. I have looked everywhere. it has stained all my clothes. It is here, somewhere, the source of it.

it has been months. I cannot leave. I am weak. it affects me constantly.

something is rotting.

it is me. it has always been me.

[ghostoffuturespast]

Where most of my writing is currently hanging out. My CP 2077 long fic and a couple of unrelated one shots. Got fluff, copious amounts of angst, and horror... 💀😈👻