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Nairaland Forum / Entertainment / Literature / Tales By A Graveyard: A Collection Of Scary Stories. (2100 Views)
Why Is Litereature Section Like A Graveyard With Ghosts Running Around? / Tales Of Womanhood (series): Broken Tears / Short Scary Stories (build Your Fear Yourself) And Post Yours. (2) (3) (4)
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Tales By A Graveyard: A Collection Of Scary Stories. by Nobody: 8:33pm On Mar 09, 2015 |
I am not really new here. I have been following this section for a while now. Presently, I am ready to start posting some of my scary stories. You can check out my scary story blog @ http://deathlyscary..com/?m=1 These stories are from my unpublished collection of short stories titled Tales By A Graveyard. |
Re: Tales By A Graveyard: A Collection Of Scary Stories. by Nobody: 9:16pm On Mar 09, 2015 |
That Night Mide lay sleepless, staring up at the whirling and swirling ceiling-fan. Bored to the bones, he propped up on an elbow, picked up his phone for the umpteenth time in the last thirty minutes and again went fiddling about the cyberspace until he stumbled upon a link in flashing red: I Can tell Your Date of Death ‘Now, this sounds like excitement,’ he said aloud. He clicked on the link and was immediately shown a form. Instructions above the form required him to fill in his full name and click on a SUBMIT button at the bottom of the form. He punched in his name and submitted the form. Three minutes later and he got a reply. His heart iced over. ‘What! That is today’ His eyes flew to the sole calendar in his room and the disturbing truth was confirmed. Then he looked at the clock: 11:30pm. No, I shouldn’t believe this. It is just some harmless random prediction. It mightn’t be real. I can’t die today. He laughed out loud and lay back in bed. He tried not to think about it anymore but his heartbeat rolled on until it reached a crescendo. He looked at the clock again: 11:40pm. But what if it is accurate? Maybe I should just say some prayers. ‘Lord, have mercy,’ he said over and over again, his teeth chattering from fear. He had his back to the clock. He turned after a while and checked the clock: 12:00am. ‘I made it. I defeated the silly prediction’ Forgetting himself, he got up on the bed, bounced up triumphantly and the whirling and swirling fan- blades pummeled his head to pulp. A second later and the clock in the sitting-room, a more precise clock, struck 12:00am. |
Re: Tales By A Graveyard: A Collection Of Scary Stories. by Nobody: 3:46pm On Mar 10, 2015 |
Night Of The Well-Mistress The well was just beside the house. All Made needed was to do a semi circle walk around the house and be there in less than a minute. The well had a lid and a water pumping machine but the electricity supply here was lousy and so the water tank high up on a scaffold-like system of pipes was nearly always empty. This was Made's fourth night here. He had only recently fully packed in. He needed water to flush his toilet, wash his dishes and rinse his clothes. He got his two little buckets ready, placed the rubber well-bucket in one of the buckets and padlocked his door. As he walked around the house towards the well at the opposite side of the building , he saw one of his neighbours coming out with a garbage bag dangling from his hand. 'Good evening,' said Made casually. 'Good evening' The two men walked on but the neighbour stopped just before he got to the garbage heap and called, 'Excuse me, you aren't planning on drawing water this night' 'I am. As a matter of fact, I have to. I was busy at school all day, so I couldn't come back early. I need water' 'I can spare a bucket' 'No, don't worry. I don't like troubling people' 'Nay' said the neighbour with a dismissive wave of the hand 'It is no sweat for me. You see, it is not good to draw water at night. And this well doesn't have some of the best histories around' 'Really?' said Made. 'What history? 'It is not edible' 'It will help me not to go draw from that well this night. I am not a superstitious person, though' A wave of irritation hit a side of the neighbour's face. 'Neither am I. But I have seen something in that well before' 'Really,' said Made, dropping his bucket and pretending to want to catch the latest gist in town. The mockery was lost on the neighbour who had an appetite for telling ghost stories that scare even him. 'There was this night that I needed water badly. You know there is always that night when you need water badly? I have always known that it was bad to fetch water from a well at night. But I needed water. You know, wash little things and big things too. So I went to the well and got three buckets...' 'Did you see anything in the well?' 'Nothing really. But I felt a coldness escape out of the deep when I opened the lid. You know like catching the first blast of air from an air- conditioning unit just switched on. But that was not the scary' 'What was the scary?' 'You see, I only used one of the buckets before I went to sleep. In the midnight, I woke to the sound of water splashing on my bathroom floor. I didn't know what to make out of it. I was scared to the testicles. When I managed to open the bathroom door, all I saw was water on the floor and three upturned buckets' Made felt a little scared now but he quickly checked himself. 'Is there any other person that has had a similar experience?' 'Honestly, there have been two people' 'Ever spoken to the landlord about it before?' 'I have never. But I spoke with a friend of his. He advised me never to fetch water there at night again. He told me an even scarier story' 'What story?' Made was certain the first story was enough to keep him awake all night but he stubbornly wanted to hear more in spite of himself. 'He said a visitor to this town was killed there. She was arrested by the vigilantes and paraded around town. He said she was heavily pregnant but the vigilantes wouldn't consider that. They insisted she was a Boko Haram suicide bomber. They took out her baby by crude surgery that killed both mother and child. They buried the child in a narrow grave somewhere on this land where this house stands. Then they took this woman and threw her down the well' 'This story sounds like a cock-and-bull story' 'Sounds like but the old man was serious' 'I better go and try my own ill luck too tonight' But he was not as confident as he sounded. He would have liked to just return back to his room but the neighbour just stood there and Made didn't want to back away like a coward. He approached the well with seemingly confident strides and pulled up the lid. It swung open on lousy rusty hinges. 'Did you feel the coldness,' said the neighbour from his safe distance. 'No,' said Made still maintaining a jaunty mien and tone. He fetched two buckets, strolled past his neighbour and laboured out a strained good night. Made stayed awake listening fearfully for the splash of water on his bathroom floor. Then, he stumbled out of sleep as he thought he heard the splashes and the moan of a woman. He sat up, wiping the sweat from his face. He had not known when he dropped into sleep. He got up and went to the bathroom door and pushed it open. He gasped as he saw the flood of water on the floor and the upturned buckets with cracks in them. His heart went into a palpitating frenzy. He heard the cooing of a baby and looked up sharply at the bathroom window where four bright yellow eyes, a pair of adult eyes, and a pair of infant eyes, had been staring hard at him. The eyes vanished immediately. |
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