My writing group put on a show this afternoon. All of us got together to read out spooky stories we had written. They were not specifically done for the show, but after writing for ten months we all had something to contribute.
We got organised and even had tee shirts made up with our logo on. Everyone read out one or two stories in a local pub. They were pleased to have us and asked if we would go back at Christmas!
I was very nervous. My heart was racing and I struggled to just turn the page. But thankfully my stories were very short so I got off the stage area quite quickly. I think blogging here has made it easier. Being in the group has really helped.
This is my second short story on a spooky theme to be read out with my writers group at Halloween x
I’ve been watching the summerhouse for a few days. I thought I saw someone inside it. I can see it from the kitchen window, the one on the side of the house, a small square piece of glass.
It overlooks the main garden and is where I have my cctv camera. Last night the camera beeped. I looked at the recording, but it was just a moth, fluttering in front of the camera.
This morning I went out to look at the Summerhouse, but it was still padlocked, the windows are OK and apart from some ivy growing up the side everything seems fine.
I’m loathe to walk in the garden. I have to use a stick and I’m a bit unsteady on my feet. There’s a wobbly step to negotiate and it makes me nervous.
Anyway that was a few weeks ago. I’ve not seen anything recently. But the cctv has been quiet, apart from recording falling leaves. It’s almost autumn and the nights are getting colder.
I still look out at the summerhouse, it’s more visible now the branches are losing their firey burden. Sometimes I see shadows, but I think it’s the way the sunlight filters through the undergrowth.
2am, the milkman just delivered my milk, he always moves my bin to put it over the gate. It’s too late to go out now and it’s a bit frosty so I’ll wait till morning.
I woke up a few minutes ago, there was another noise, I think the bin was moved again? It sits in front of my gate which has the basket for the milk bottles on the back… I’m not going out….
Now it’s morning. The milk was still there – gate still padlocked – but could someone have climbed over?
I put my shoes on. It’s frosty out here
I’m recording this on my phone – I want to take photos if I need to. Don’t trip over, I’ve got my walking stick…. I should be OK….
There IS something in the summerhouse!
A dark shape. I can see eyes glinting in the dawn light. My chest feels tight, my pulse is racing. What the HELL IS THAT?
Mrs Smiths phone was found by her corpse Sir. She seems to have come out looking for something or someone. She seems to have had a seizure, could be hypothermia? The Summerhouse is empty and there is no sign of forced entry. The backdoor of her house was locked from the outside we think, she had the key. The death was recorded as unexplained
I joined a writing group recently and this is one of my first stories.
Moonlight
In the past the shadow of Earth would gradually spread across the Moon. Time for mayhem, time for fear.
But these days people don’t consider the changes that could happen during full moons, or even more so – a lunar eclipse.
Blood red Moon due. The TV news channels were full of it. The weather man explained when you could see it. Start at 2.32am, mid eclipse 4.17am, and the end at 6.23am. If there was a clear sky people would go out and look. In the dark of the night they would dress up warmly ad try and watch the marvellous sky borne event.
But in the dark things were scampering, hiding close by, hidden in trees and bushes and tall grassland. Things that changed at the full moon, ready to capture and ensnare. The blackness of night was increased during the full eclipse, when the brilliant moon was dimmed.
It was 3am and she decided to view this lunar delight. A flask of tea, a warm coat and scarf. Strong shoes to stop her turning an ankle in the tussocky grass….. A good torch with new batteries. Out of the back door-
Out the gate and into the alleyway…. She moved through the misty air. Feet slipping on the frosty ground.
Down the path into the feild edges. She was watching where her feet fell but chanced a quick glance up. The moon was pinkish, a darker shadow on one side.
As she walked she heard shuffling sounds in the grass. But she took no notice, probably a cat? Out into the main feild.
Quietness. The eclipse was doing it’s thing, gradually reddening. A blush on the lunar surface. Moonlight but crimson. Like blood.
She sat on a wooden bench and poured herself a cup of tea, strong no sugar. Sipping it she tried to sit comfortably, head up, neck cranking to get a good view through the entangled tree branches. SNAP! atwig crunched. Turning her she saw a glimpse. A Werewolfs smile…..
(I’m going to read this out at a local event. Wish me luck!)
I’ve joined a small writing group in my home town and we are being given prompts to write about. I’ll write up another one later but here’s a poem I did on the spur of the moment when I misheard the prompt Loss as Gloss:
Mallaband-Brown 