illusionkane
03-05-2008, 12:03 AM
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I do warn you now, this is the creepiest story I've ever written. I've actually scared several people with this so far, more or less because they never would expect this to come out of my head. XD So I decided to warn you that the following is, well, creepy.
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Catherine was four years old when her father died. She was told that he died in a car accident. She didn’t understand it until after she realized that her dad didn’t come through the front door again. She cried and cried until no more tears could come out. She missed her daddy, because he was always around and always played with her.
Her mother, Melanie, was never really around. She was in her mid-30s and very beautiful. She had bright blonde hair and seductive green eyes that could make any man melt. That’s what she used against her former husband and her boyfriends before that. Almost every night, since her recovery from Catherine’s birth and her drastic loss of pregnancy weight, she was out, leaving her husband to take care of the baby. Only after his death did she stay at home more often. Or, at least for an extra hour, before heading out to a local bar and staying out until midnight or later.
Catherine is now eleven, and surprisingly she grew up very well, even with her mother’s negligent care. She looked a lot like her dad: blue eyes as deep as the ocean, dark, almost-black hair, cut short to rest a bit below her shoulders, and even wore glasses for when she was reading. She knew how to take care of herself; which came in handy for the nights when her mother left out before dinnertime. Her day was normal and unchanging: she went to school, came home and cooked a quick meal for her mother to eat, then after she left, it was time for homework and relaxation. At bedtime, she turned off the lights and settled into bed, her radio playing lightly. She woke up slightly to the return of Melanie, then settled back down into sleep after she heard the bedroom door shut. In the morning, it was time for breakfast, then Melanie left for work and she left for school.
But one day, Catherine realized there was something different about that day. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but there was something. Something about the way Melanie was acting. She seemed very chipper for it being 7:30 in the morning. Usually she is drunk or tired, sometimes recovering from a hangover from playing too many rounds in a drinking game. “Morning, Catherine dear,” she said sweetly, giving her daughter a hug. That made Catherine suspicious; her mother never hugged her. She would barely speak two words, then drowned herself in coffee before getting dressed for work. But the young girl rode it off for now, and focused on her breakfast.
School came and went and Catherine returned home to find her mother already there, sitting on the couch drinking tea. “Oh, hello, sweetie. Did you have a nice day at school? I hope you didn’t eat much at lunch. We’re going out to eat tonight,” Melanie said with a sincere smile. Catherine’s suspicion returned, but she rode it off once again and responded with a nod before retreating to her room.
The night dragged on until Catherine was called to come down to leave for dinner. She made notice to her mother’s clothing, seemingly fancy for just a simple dinner. “How nice, Catherine. You look quite cute. Now come, come. We don’t want to be late,” Melanie said, pushing her daughter out the door. She looked up at her mother in curiosity as she entered her car and began to start it up. “We’re going to an awesome place tonight. You’ll love it; I’ve gone there many times with your father,” Melanie said happily.
The place was called Cherish, an Italian restaurant that was seemingly high end. No doubt Melanie got in without needing a reservation; probably flirted with a manager or something. But Catherine didn’t exactly care; she was pretty hungry. The maitre-d greeted them and led them to their table, leaving two menus to order from.
“Order whatever you want to, dear. Eat to your heart’s content,” Melanie said, a large smile on her face. Catherine ignored her smile, although it was very difficult with her suspicion much sharper than before. First there was her cheerful greeting in the morning, then her being home in the afternoon, and now dinner in one of the fanciest restaurants in town. Something was up.
One of the waiters approached the table. “Ah, Melanie! So nice to see you today!” the waiter said, a smile over his face. “Oh, hello Richard! I wasn’t expecting to see you. Especially after the party last night,” she replied with a wink. His eyes looked over at Catherine and smiled, “And who is this little cutie?”
“This is my daughter, Catherine. Isn’t she just adorable? I told you so!”
“Yes you did! Hello, Catherine.”
She waved, a bit shy to actually say something. She just watched as her mother made conversation, being quiet and reserved. Suddenly, another waiter came up and whispered a message to Richard. “Oh, I see. Well, Melanie, I believe the chef wishes to speak to you. Harold, if you remember him from the party a few nights ago,” he said. “Oh! I remember him! Yes, yes. Well, then. If you could, will you stay and keep Catherine company while I go speak with him?” she asked, getting up from her seat.
Richard turned to Catherine and smiled as Melanie went off into the kitchen. “You have a beautiful and lovely mother, Catherine. You’re a very lucky girl,” he said. Catherine just nodded and took a bite of her salad instead, not exactly wanting to talk.
A few minutes later, Melanie returned with a large smile on her face and a wink at Richard. “You have a wonderful daughter. Such a smart, bright girl. Did Harold have something to say, since now he’s not drunk?” Richard asked with a chuckle. “Oh, yes, quite so. Although I must say, he needs to be careful! He spilled a glass of wine all over my skirt!” she exclaimed, pointing out the large, red stain that soaked it. Catherine didn’t believe that; to her, it smelled heavily of blood.
After they returned home, Melanie began to act quite strange, stranger than how Catherine normally saw her. She went up into the attic and stayed in there for at least a half-hour. Catherine didn’t know what was going on, and it distracted her from her homework. Finally, after at least 40 minutes of solitude, Melanie reappeared, a smile on her face. “Well, dear, I think we had a wonderful evening. We should do it again sometime, shouldn’t we? Well, I’m off to bed. Good night, Catherine,” she said, disappearing down the hallway to her large bedroom. Catherine said her good night and went to continue her work. However, her mind was now completely distracted. What was her mother hiding? Certainly, this was not her usual behavior. Very rarely, if at all, in her life did she ever see her mother so chipper. She closed her notebook and put it away, deciding to watch a bit of TV while she waited for her mother to go to sleep.
She was going to see what was in the attic that interested Melanie so much. She never spent that much time up in there, other than for cleaning, and that, again, was very rarely done. She waited, often time creeping over the end of the hall to hear her mother’s awfully loud snoring, and when it wasn’t heard she went back to the couch. Finally, around 11 that night, Catherine heard that deep, nasally sound. It was her chance to go explore the attic at last.
Her feet crept silently up the stairs, making sure that she didn’t make them creak in their old age. Melanie would surely wake up at that sound. Her feet were socked, luckily, for it is often very cold on those steps. Melanie always kept the AC on up in the attic for a reason that Catherine still had yet to understand. Even in the winter time, it kept running.
The higher she went up, the colder it became. Catherine’s teeth began to chatter and goosebumps covered her arms. Why did her mother keep it so cold up here? Her socks weren’t doing much to keep her feet warm, and she tried her best to hurry up the last few steps. The door was in reach, although she already predicted that it would be colder inside than how it was in the stairway.
Catherine never really went inside the attic; she was always forbidden to. The place was foreign, full of boxes and things that she never remembered seeing, probably memories of her parents, or special things for her. But that wasn’t her focus today. She was here to figure out what interested her mother so much. Her first step was to check and see what seemed recently disturbed. Slowly, she walked around the floor, her feet feeling like ice on the chilled floor.
Almost everything seemed to be covered in dust and cobwebs, and it confused Catherine as she examined everything she could see. Finally, her eyes landed on something red on the floor.
It looked like blood. Catherine knelt down and used her skirt to touch the spot. It was blood, for sure. Catherine’s eyes followed the trail of blood to a lone, large box. Could this be the item that her mother was interested in? Her heart began to speed up as she approached the box. She knelt down, making sure not to sit on the blood trail, and carefully opened the box.
Inside of the box was a scent of blood and decomposing bodies. Heads. Human male heads. Too stunned to speak or scream, her eyes examined the box. Many of the heads were of unfamiliar faces. Some were too rotten to figure out who it could’ve been. However, in the back of the box, in a lone corner sheltered of, was a face she knew all too well.
The face of her father.
I do warn you now, this is the creepiest story I've ever written. I've actually scared several people with this so far, more or less because they never would expect this to come out of my head. XD So I decided to warn you that the following is, well, creepy.
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Catherine was four years old when her father died. She was told that he died in a car accident. She didn’t understand it until after she realized that her dad didn’t come through the front door again. She cried and cried until no more tears could come out. She missed her daddy, because he was always around and always played with her.
Her mother, Melanie, was never really around. She was in her mid-30s and very beautiful. She had bright blonde hair and seductive green eyes that could make any man melt. That’s what she used against her former husband and her boyfriends before that. Almost every night, since her recovery from Catherine’s birth and her drastic loss of pregnancy weight, she was out, leaving her husband to take care of the baby. Only after his death did she stay at home more often. Or, at least for an extra hour, before heading out to a local bar and staying out until midnight or later.
Catherine is now eleven, and surprisingly she grew up very well, even with her mother’s negligent care. She looked a lot like her dad: blue eyes as deep as the ocean, dark, almost-black hair, cut short to rest a bit below her shoulders, and even wore glasses for when she was reading. She knew how to take care of herself; which came in handy for the nights when her mother left out before dinnertime. Her day was normal and unchanging: she went to school, came home and cooked a quick meal for her mother to eat, then after she left, it was time for homework and relaxation. At bedtime, she turned off the lights and settled into bed, her radio playing lightly. She woke up slightly to the return of Melanie, then settled back down into sleep after she heard the bedroom door shut. In the morning, it was time for breakfast, then Melanie left for work and she left for school.
But one day, Catherine realized there was something different about that day. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but there was something. Something about the way Melanie was acting. She seemed very chipper for it being 7:30 in the morning. Usually she is drunk or tired, sometimes recovering from a hangover from playing too many rounds in a drinking game. “Morning, Catherine dear,” she said sweetly, giving her daughter a hug. That made Catherine suspicious; her mother never hugged her. She would barely speak two words, then drowned herself in coffee before getting dressed for work. But the young girl rode it off for now, and focused on her breakfast.
School came and went and Catherine returned home to find her mother already there, sitting on the couch drinking tea. “Oh, hello, sweetie. Did you have a nice day at school? I hope you didn’t eat much at lunch. We’re going out to eat tonight,” Melanie said with a sincere smile. Catherine’s suspicion returned, but she rode it off once again and responded with a nod before retreating to her room.
The night dragged on until Catherine was called to come down to leave for dinner. She made notice to her mother’s clothing, seemingly fancy for just a simple dinner. “How nice, Catherine. You look quite cute. Now come, come. We don’t want to be late,” Melanie said, pushing her daughter out the door. She looked up at her mother in curiosity as she entered her car and began to start it up. “We’re going to an awesome place tonight. You’ll love it; I’ve gone there many times with your father,” Melanie said happily.
The place was called Cherish, an Italian restaurant that was seemingly high end. No doubt Melanie got in without needing a reservation; probably flirted with a manager or something. But Catherine didn’t exactly care; she was pretty hungry. The maitre-d greeted them and led them to their table, leaving two menus to order from.
“Order whatever you want to, dear. Eat to your heart’s content,” Melanie said, a large smile on her face. Catherine ignored her smile, although it was very difficult with her suspicion much sharper than before. First there was her cheerful greeting in the morning, then her being home in the afternoon, and now dinner in one of the fanciest restaurants in town. Something was up.
One of the waiters approached the table. “Ah, Melanie! So nice to see you today!” the waiter said, a smile over his face. “Oh, hello Richard! I wasn’t expecting to see you. Especially after the party last night,” she replied with a wink. His eyes looked over at Catherine and smiled, “And who is this little cutie?”
“This is my daughter, Catherine. Isn’t she just adorable? I told you so!”
“Yes you did! Hello, Catherine.”
She waved, a bit shy to actually say something. She just watched as her mother made conversation, being quiet and reserved. Suddenly, another waiter came up and whispered a message to Richard. “Oh, I see. Well, Melanie, I believe the chef wishes to speak to you. Harold, if you remember him from the party a few nights ago,” he said. “Oh! I remember him! Yes, yes. Well, then. If you could, will you stay and keep Catherine company while I go speak with him?” she asked, getting up from her seat.
Richard turned to Catherine and smiled as Melanie went off into the kitchen. “You have a beautiful and lovely mother, Catherine. You’re a very lucky girl,” he said. Catherine just nodded and took a bite of her salad instead, not exactly wanting to talk.
A few minutes later, Melanie returned with a large smile on her face and a wink at Richard. “You have a wonderful daughter. Such a smart, bright girl. Did Harold have something to say, since now he’s not drunk?” Richard asked with a chuckle. “Oh, yes, quite so. Although I must say, he needs to be careful! He spilled a glass of wine all over my skirt!” she exclaimed, pointing out the large, red stain that soaked it. Catherine didn’t believe that; to her, it smelled heavily of blood.
After they returned home, Melanie began to act quite strange, stranger than how Catherine normally saw her. She went up into the attic and stayed in there for at least a half-hour. Catherine didn’t know what was going on, and it distracted her from her homework. Finally, after at least 40 minutes of solitude, Melanie reappeared, a smile on her face. “Well, dear, I think we had a wonderful evening. We should do it again sometime, shouldn’t we? Well, I’m off to bed. Good night, Catherine,” she said, disappearing down the hallway to her large bedroom. Catherine said her good night and went to continue her work. However, her mind was now completely distracted. What was her mother hiding? Certainly, this was not her usual behavior. Very rarely, if at all, in her life did she ever see her mother so chipper. She closed her notebook and put it away, deciding to watch a bit of TV while she waited for her mother to go to sleep.
She was going to see what was in the attic that interested Melanie so much. She never spent that much time up in there, other than for cleaning, and that, again, was very rarely done. She waited, often time creeping over the end of the hall to hear her mother’s awfully loud snoring, and when it wasn’t heard she went back to the couch. Finally, around 11 that night, Catherine heard that deep, nasally sound. It was her chance to go explore the attic at last.
Her feet crept silently up the stairs, making sure that she didn’t make them creak in their old age. Melanie would surely wake up at that sound. Her feet were socked, luckily, for it is often very cold on those steps. Melanie always kept the AC on up in the attic for a reason that Catherine still had yet to understand. Even in the winter time, it kept running.
The higher she went up, the colder it became. Catherine’s teeth began to chatter and goosebumps covered her arms. Why did her mother keep it so cold up here? Her socks weren’t doing much to keep her feet warm, and she tried her best to hurry up the last few steps. The door was in reach, although she already predicted that it would be colder inside than how it was in the stairway.
Catherine never really went inside the attic; she was always forbidden to. The place was foreign, full of boxes and things that she never remembered seeing, probably memories of her parents, or special things for her. But that wasn’t her focus today. She was here to figure out what interested her mother so much. Her first step was to check and see what seemed recently disturbed. Slowly, she walked around the floor, her feet feeling like ice on the chilled floor.
Almost everything seemed to be covered in dust and cobwebs, and it confused Catherine as she examined everything she could see. Finally, her eyes landed on something red on the floor.
It looked like blood. Catherine knelt down and used her skirt to touch the spot. It was blood, for sure. Catherine’s eyes followed the trail of blood to a lone, large box. Could this be the item that her mother was interested in? Her heart began to speed up as she approached the box. She knelt down, making sure not to sit on the blood trail, and carefully opened the box.
Inside of the box was a scent of blood and decomposing bodies. Heads. Human male heads. Too stunned to speak or scream, her eyes examined the box. Many of the heads were of unfamiliar faces. Some were too rotten to figure out who it could’ve been. However, in the back of the box, in a lone corner sheltered of, was a face she knew all too well.
The face of her father.