Collection of Short Stories (Full Version)

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Angel of Grief -> Collection of Short Stories (5/21/2010 20:28:02)

Welcome to Angel of Grief's short story thread.

This is is where I will be posting my short stories. I mainly write stories called Creepypasta, which is pretty much...well...creepy stories. Although a lot of them are long (like the infamous Joseph K.'s), mine are quite short and to the point. I will save this post as a table of contents. Each story will be in its own post.

Thank you for reading, and have a nice day.

And oh, about that shadow in the corner...Don't worry. It can't hurt you.

While you're awake at least.



Table of Contents
Note: please use the Ctrl + F key and the quick find code (for example, The Dark's quick find is TD1) (or you can click the title, which Eukara edited in)

The Dark TD1
God Save the Past GP2
Tourist Trap LP3
Memoir of a Botanist MB4
Grief G5
ColdVoid.com CVC

Comments?



Angel of Grief -> RE: Collection of Short Stories (5/21/2010 20:29:22)

TD1

The Dark


I'm afraid of the dark. I've actually been afraid of it since I was very, very young. Evidently, most kids that are my age were as well.

But I'm different. Or at least I think so.

Because truth be told, it's not the dark I'm afraid of. Merely what is hiding in it.

I bet you all know the feeling. A bump in the night. A tree scratching at the window. The creek-creek of your closet door opening a crack in a non-existent breeze.

It's at this point that most kids start screaming for their mother, pretending to want a glass of water, one last hug before they fall asleep, or whatever else.

The older kids won't do that. Instead, they find an excuse. They go check their Twitter, Facebook, or Myspace, just hoping that the dim glow of the computer screen will keep the Boogieman in the closet at bay. Others, without access to a computer, will turn their lights on.

You fools.

He couldn't find you in the dark.



Angel of Grief -> RE: Collection of Short Stories (5/21/2010 20:32:30)

GP2

God Save the Past


As we crested over the hill, Grandma points out another old house. It's roof is caved in, porch gone, and it's empty windows stare out like eyes.

"Uncle Ted lived here. He's dead now. Nobody lives there anymore."

Well obviously nobody lives there Grandma, I think. Who would want to?

But still, being the amateur photographer I am, I pull over and take some photos of the old decrepit house. It looks cool against the now dark, stormy sky. I get back into the car and drive away again.

Grandma raises a bony finger as we pass another (half fallen down) house and barn.

"My great-great aunt Sherry lived there. She's dead now too."

Great. But yet again, I get out and take more snapshots of the beautiful Wisconsin countryside.

We drive out past the Cruise Inn, Agenda Road, and Butternut taking pictures of all of the old decaying houses. Wow, there sure are a lot of them out here. There's even an old schoolhouse! It's old, faded, tattered flag ripples in the slight breeze. The now shattered windows are broken, and it's door has fallen from the hinges.

Finally, we pull up to Grandma's house. She turns to me, her empty eye sockets trying to look at me. I stare in horror as her gray hair starts to fall out, lock by lock. Her lips, although thin before, are nonexistent. Before crumbling to dust, she utters a sentence that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

"God save the past."



Angel of Grief -> RE: Collection of Short Stories (5/21/2010 20:35:22)

LP3

Tourist Trap


In rural Wisconsin, there is an old abandoned park. Built in the 1920s, it served as the town's gathering place for everyone in the community.

That is, until a newly developed Train and Tunnel for Tots™ ride was installed in 1932. It was an innocent looking childish train, with one main (mechanized) head car, with three small trolleys pulled behind it. It went around some loops before going into a small tunnel.

But this is where the story gets weird. There were numerous cases of child deaths that year, all of them happening after the child rode on that train system. Some kids went missing in that short curved tunnel, and others went comatose after leaving. One, upon exiting, was found to be dead. Her dress was covered in what looked like small bloody hand-prints. One of them even killed another child before hanging herself with razor wire at the family's farm.

Any attempts to uninstall the ride proved futile, as even more deaths occurred from freak accidents involving the crewmen and the equipment. The park was closed, and the town's popularity as a tourist town plummeted.

Recently, a team of scientists were sent out to the park. They taped a video camera to the train, along with some other monitoring equipment, before sending it on its way onto the tracks.

When the train left the tunnel, it was empty, except for the camera. It was beaten and nearly broken, but eventually the scientists were able to play it.

The last ten seconds were nothing but static, save for the sound of children laughing.


Note: This was added to the collection of stories on Creepypasta.com.
Just a little accomplishment I felt like sharing. :)



Angel of Grief -> RE: Collection of Short Stories (5/21/2010 20:37:57)

MB4


Memoir of a Botanist

I looked down at my Lilly. "Save me," she seemed to beg. But she can't beg, can she? Or talk? She's such a beautiful flower. So beautiful...yet so tragic at the same time.

"Save me, Liam," she begs again.

I did this. I took her. I plucked her up, tore her from her roots. I put her on display for all to see. But she's so beautiful, worthy of my collection.

"Save..me..." she calls out.

Lilly's beautiful eyes close, and is finally still.

Now if you would please excuse me, I have found a beautiful little Rose to add to my collection.



Angel of Grief -> RE: Collection of Short Stories (5/21/2010 20:40:27)

G5


Grief


I looked at my dear Victoria, who lay on the soil beneath the Willow tree. Her eyes, which had been be a stormy gray, were now covered in a milky film.

I began to sob. Not since she had died - no, definitely not that - merely from what I had seen.

Her eyes had opened, and glowed a sickly green. She lifted her hand, extended it, and pointed at me. And, with her stitched lips, said three words.

"I'll be waiting."



Note: we were supposed to write a short story without a certain letter. I had gotten the letter "U".

Alternate Version


I looked at my dear Victoria, who lay on the soil beneath the Willow tree. It had been a week since she had died in that fatal car crash. Only two people truly know what happened that night. I had a little too much to drink, but I decided to drive anyway.

My mistake.

Now, her eyes, which had been be a stormy gray, were covered in a milky film and a week's worth of dust.

I began to sob. Not since she had died - no, definitely not that - merely from what I had seen her do while they were putting her into the ground.

Her eyes had opened, and glowed a nauseating green. She lifted her bony hand, extended it, and pointed at me. And, through her stitched lips, said five words.

"I'll see you in Hell."



Angel of Grief -> RE: Collection of Short Stories (6/22/2010 1:20:55)

CVC


ColdVoid.com


Well hello there, dear reader. I am so sorry that you are reading this, as it might just be the last thing you do. You see, upon entering my site, you saw an ordinary looking spider web. Or so you thought. Upon further inspection, you noticed that, by clicking and dragging your mouse/computer trackpad, that you could move my web to your will.

It was fun at first. You seemed to always destroy the beautiful center of my web (which took me hours, thank you very much) first, and would reload the page once you had snapped every little strand of fine silk. You just kept stretching it, and stretching it, until parts of it snapped under the pressure. You got down to the last thread, and, instead of letting it go and starting a new page, you took it's poor life as well. Little did you know what you were doing, and that is why I feel sorry for you, because you're just like all of the rest.

You see, every time you snapped a cord, a life somewhere on the earth ended. It might not have been someone's you had known, and it might not even been a humans, but something died nonetheless. How does that feel? To know you killed something or someone? And every time you destroyed the delicately crafted center, the last person to go onto my site and destroyed my web perished.

Now pardon me, dear reader, as I have to excuse myself; someone just broke my web again. I must be off to fix it.



__________
Link to the site I'm talking about: http://www.coldvoid.com/



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