Scary Short
I’ve been trying to post a new scary short short story every Halloween. Twenty years from now, maybe I’ll have enough for a collection.
For now, enjoy!
Right after her family moved into their new house, she began to smell it.
Not always there. Just a whiff when she’d flip a switch and a dusty ceiling fan would groan into life. Or she’d open a closet and the smell would waft toward her, then vanish.
Damp. Thick. Rotting.
–You’re imagining it, sweetie.
–You just need to get used to the new place.
She left the windows open at all times. She dragged rugs outside into fresh air. She scrubbed floors with a stiff brush dripping hot water and bleach.
Her hands were red and sore. One of her knuckles cracked. She put her finger to her lips, but instead of salt, all she could taste was the smell.
Heavy. Oozing. Foul.
–This isn’t right.
–We’ll take you to see someone. Someone to talk to.
She lay in bed, and the smell seemed to slip long, slender fingers down her throat, coating her insides with slime.
She thought of mold, deep inside the walls. By morning, she’d clawed off as much wallpaper as she could reach. The walls, laid bare, were white and clean, but the smell was worse than ever.
–Look at her hands.
–We have to go now. We’re taking you somewhere safe.
Looking up at the concerned faces, she realized at last where the smell was coming from.
Dark, fuzzy tendrils spiraled into her whites of her father’s eyes. They spiderwebbed from the corners of her mother’s mouth.
Her bloody hands curled tight.
She knew what she’d have to clean next.
Read More
That Night: A Spooky Halloween Story
photo by Igor Tigor
Here’s a chilling little tidbit for your Halloween Eve.
Read MoreI woke up in bed and I had to pee.
You know how it is. You lie there for a while, thinking you don’t really have to go that badly. You try to brace yourself for the rush of chilly air that envelops you once you throw the covers back. The slap of cold against the sole of each bare foot when you set it on the floor.
But I couldn’t hold out forever. Finally I forced myself out of bed and hurried to the bathroom. I didn’t even turn on the light.
When I was done, I felt my way along the dark hallway back toward my room. I heard my mom snoring. My dad rolled over in bed and sighed.
My dog brushed up against my leg. I reached down to pet him and felt the scruff of fur on the back of his neck, right where he liked to be scratched. His cold nose bumped my knee.
Back in my room, I burrowed under the covers, wrapped up in warmth again.
That was when I remembered that our dog died last summer. We buried him in the backyard under the maple tree.
So what was it that brushed up against me in the dark?
I guess I’m going to have to open the door to my room and find out. Especially since there’s a lot of noise coming from my mom and dad’s room.
All that screaming.
A Story of Plague
Since nobody is thinking of anything but pandemic, I thought I’d post about one much worse than what we’re experiencing–the Black Death and the village of Eyam.
It was 1665, and the plague had struck Eyam. (Fleas in a bundle of cloth imported from London are supposed to have been the culprits.) Forty-two people died in four months, and the rest were ready to flee. The village rector knew that if they did so, they’d take the plague with them. He made the former rector, his rival, into an ally, and together they convinced the people of Eyam to stay where they were.
Amazingly, they did it. Almost no one broke quarantine for fourteen months, even though two hundred and sixty people died in a community whose total population did not reach one thousand. People from neighboring villages brought food and left it at the village boundary for the survivors.
If the people of Eyam hadn’t stayed and faced death together, the plague would have killed thousands more. It’s an amazing story of heroism. Maybe I’ll turn it into a book on day.
In the meantime, wash your hands…stay home if you can…be careful and safe!
Read MoreNew England Vampires
JB exhumed skeleton beings studied at the National Museum of Health and Medicine.
Forensic science and folklore can piece together some truths about life (and the afterlife) in New England in the 1700s and 1800s. Like Mercy Brown in Mercy: The Last New England Vampire, JB was a real person, a Connecticut farmer who died of tuberculosis….and whose community dug up his grave after his death, convinced he was a vampire. The Washington Post details new discoveries about him here…one of the few so-called vampire burials to be exhumed and studied.
You don’t have to travel to Transylvania to encounter homegrown vampire folklore. The same legends that led to JB’s exhumation were the basis for my YA novel Mercy. Family, loss, terror, and love–the elements of a good horror story or a supernatural legend.
Read More
Sarah L. Thomson
A children’s book author publishing award-winning nonfiction, poetry, picture books and novels including…
“Readers will treasure the blossoming friendship between opposites in this whimsically illustrated tale. Short chapters and plenty of action make for an accessible and appealing reading experience. . . . Touching and inspiring.”
—Kirkus Reviews