31 Hazardous Halloween Tales (part four) (18-31)

*This is part four of my “31 Hazardous Halloween Tales”. It’s underneath my folder titled “31 Halloween Tales”. Gacha Club character designs are under my forum titled “My character designs<33”. Enjoy!*

Tale Eighteen-Come hither

Athan weaved his way through the fogged town of Dahlia, noting how the Jack-o-Lanterns gleamed in the deserted town.

There was a Hallows’ Eve a few years before. The last one that he spent with his family before they all disappeared one night.

Every night ever since then, Athan would dream of a town covered in fog and riddled with legends of faeries, witches, and magic. He himself was a practicing witch, but he didn’t tell his family in fear of how they would react.

What if it was his fault? What if he somehow caused them all to disappear? What if-

“Come hither, come hither, oh lost child!” A little girl’s voice sing-sang.

Athan found himself following the voice as though he were being moved by a force greater than the Earth, greater than anyone could ever dream of.

There was something about the voice that sounded more than a mere soft-spoken little girl…

……………………………………………………

The fog had become less blurred, he could see silhouettes in the darkness. Silhouettes that took the forms of strange creatures clawing up towards the sky, twisting and turning their bony fingers. They faintly looked human and vaguely sounded like saddened souls crying out from the depths of Hell, begging to be set free.

Yet still, Athan found himself following the voice, coaxing him to “Come hither”, his own feet unable to run back home to the safety of his closed-off house, where everything was in order.

“Come hither, come hither, come hither, come-“

The voice stopped. So did his moving. Instead, he was completely still, unable to do so much as move his fingers.

From out of the fog, there stood a hunched monstrosity covered in blackened fur, claws coming out of its patchwork sleeves like thin, pointy spider legs. It had veiny, stringy mud-speckled black hair that looked as though it hadn’t seen a brush in centuries and it wore an orange, purple, and black patchwork dress with abstracting textile patterns, a dress that looked more like a sack than anything else.

“Tis’ I, Eerie, the faerie of this sacred Hallows’ Eve. You shall be with your family soon, boy. Right after I fix you.” The figure said in the echoing little girl voice that drew Athan close.

Athan felt his bones twist and turn with his flesh, his fingers growing into claws that touched the night, his heart racing faster and faster, until he could hear its calculated beats in his mind…

Not even a scream could be let of his mouth, for Eerie had stopped him from making a single sound.

Was his body even his anymore?

Tale Nineteen-On Hallows’ Eve night

Fiametta lay in bed, smiling at how she took so much candy! Hallows’ Eve was the best and in bed, she hoped to have many dreams of the wondrous season!

As sleep crept its way towards her, she noted how all of her limbs began to feel heavy, as though they were all being weighed down by an invisible force.

She tried to move her fingers, but nothing changed. Perhaps she was just tired. Perhaps she just needed to rest.

Fiametta walked down the sidewalk of dried-up leaves, the scent of apples in the air. One more house to go and then she’d have to eat dinner and then go to sleep…

But was there something in the corner of her room? A shadow? Why was everything going dark? Was she going to sleep?

What if she didn’t have to sleep? What if she could Trick-or-Treat all night, searching for the candies that she liked? But wouldn’t her parents be waiting? Wouldn’t her parents be upset?

Could she even open her mouth? Was she really that tired?

The shadow began to look like the vague silhouette of a woman. It had claws that reached towards her, a smile of no teeth and black goo, endless black goo that poured out of her thin, pale lips.

“Child, I’ve come to collect your soul! Don’t cry, I don’t like those loud, shrieking sounds.” The woman-silhouette said in a raspy, grating voice.

She didn’t know if she should cry, scream, or be quiet. It wasn’t she could make a noise anyway, but what if it was all a nightmare? She had nightmares before that seemed real.

Then why was the woman coming so close to her? Who was the woman? What was she doing?

The claws reached for Fiametta’s face…

……………………………………………………..

Why couldn’t her parents come with her? They seemed to be so afraid to even step out of their houses, yet they let her go.

Fiametta walked down the sidewalk, her plastic orange pumpkin filled to the brim with candy. There wasn’t time to be sad! It was Hallows’ Eve, the best night of the year!

But all of the other kids were with their families and she was all alone…

Would she always be alone?

……………………………………………………..

Where did all the lights go? Why was it so dark? Where was the ground? Where was the ceiling? Fiametta could still smell the apples and pumpkins in the air, like the memories of Hallows’ Eve still hung, but then, what of her parents?

“Mom? Dad? Where are you?” Fiametta asked, running through the dark blur, heart racing inside of her chest as though it was going to bleed into her bones.

Nobody answered. Nobody called out her name. Nobody reached out to her.

Fiametta blinked the tears out of her eyes, for crying would do her no good. Crying didn’t solve anything. A lady wasn’t supposed to cry, crying wasn’t tasteful.

She just had to keep running.

Tale Twenty-Rising out of the pumpkin patch

On a Hallows’ Eve night

When there was no such thing as television lights

A straw hand crawled out of a pumpkin patch

The straw hand connected to a smiling scarecrow boy

A little creature who was content with standing in the fields

But oh so much more fun with running about!

Every Hallows’ Eve

A bendy boy called Kooky

Runs throughout town, throwing candy corn to whoever is lucky

A scarecrow who loves to spread delight!

Come and join him on Hallows’ Eve night!

Tale Twenty-One-Fragile Francesca

In the year 1943, there was a seventeen year old girl named Francesca Giuffrida who was deathly afraid of the unexpected. She screamed out of terror whenever a surprise party was thrown for her. She’d bolt if some jumped from around the corner. If she accidentally cut her finger? Why, she’d just about have a fit!

But she was rather “too old” to have such violent bouts of fright in the eyes of her peers and for that very reason, Francesca had been dubbed the name of “Fragile Francesca”, a girl who had the shivers for anything and everything.

Everyone did what they could to scare her, caring not about her feelings. Francesca knew very well how she reacted to things and wished deeply that she were more “normal”, that she didn’t get so “fragile” over things. But oh, the tears would come tumbling out and Francesca couldn’t help herself!

But that year on Hallows Eve’ night, Francesca would get quite the fright…

……………………………………………………

Francesca was sitting on the front step of the family porch, handing out lollipops to Trick-or-Treaters. She wished so badly that she was allowed to stay in her house, safe inside from the outside world, but her parents told her to give out candy, so she did exactly that.

Some children teased her, but they were too young to do any of the vicious pranks that made her jump. Others pitied her from the sadness in their eyes. Most of them didn’t even know her and simply took the candy from the bowl.

Why couldn’t everybody be like that? Why couldn’t everybody not know who she was? Then, Francesca wouldn’t have to worry about being called “fragile”, about crying in front of people, about-

What was that porcelain doll doing in her yard?

The doll had curly blond hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to widen with every second. Its lips curled up into a taunting grin, its ruffled blue dress covered in grass stains.

Francesca sighed and got up from the porch, fear settling into her bones at the thought of a strange doll in her yard, annoyance at the classmates that wouldn’t stop bothering her.

Once in front of the doll, she grabbed a pitchfork lying on the ground that her father used and got to work on stabbing the thing, her lips snarled in anger, for she was not fragile, only fearful. All she wanted to do was get the night over with and go to sleep, away from the world, away from the noise.

Whatever was that strange purple smoke crawling out of the doll’s body? Dolls weren’t supposed to have odd-colored smoke emit from their chests, right? Who was playing such a cruel trick on her? How did the doll do such a thing?

Francesca’s heartbeat quickened, the dreaded tears began to grow at the corners of her eyes. No, no, no! Somebody was trying to get her to cry! Somebody was trying to get her to scream! She couldn’t fall for it, she couldn’t break down and let them win! Shehad to show them that she was stronger, that she wasn’t a meek little creature.

But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t run. Her body was as still as the doll’s, yet her hearing was acute. In the distance, she could hear laughter, the same laughter that her classmates did whenever they had really shocked her.

Francesca could see the purple smoke pull her closer and closer to the doll, could feel its wispy, silk-like tendrils pull her inside of a porcelain prison, where she couldn’t say a word, couldn’t move a single finger.

Through the doll’s glass eyes, she could see a few kids from school running away from behind a tree, as though they were there the whole time. They were giggling to themselves, just like small children.

And they called her fragile? They were the ones acting immature! They were the ones who did strange, unholy magic by trapping her in a doll!

Francesca knew not if she would be able to escape the doll, if she would be able to come back home. Her heart was trembling with nightmares, but her head was swimming with rage.

She had to find a way to make them pay for it.

Tale Twenty-Two-Kooky and Eerie

Eerie glided along the fogged path of Dahlia, smiling as the humans kept their distance from her. She had grown tired of her little girl form, so she decided to creep about in a monster form, delighting in the fright she brought.

Yet in all of her years of existence, in all the centuries worth of Hallow Eves’ she lived through, Eerie had never felt such an emptiness inside of her chest.

But then, why would she ever be lonely? She didn’t need anything much, she brought in the fun of Halloween! That was her purpose, her reason for living!

Yet still, the hollowness festered inside of her, blooming around her like a disease. It was a feeling that Eerie associated with the humans when they first became monsters, something that she wished not to feel for herself, something that was quite odd…

“Hiya!” A little boy’s voice said happily from behind her.

Eerie turned around. Standing behind her was a scarecrow boy, only he didn’t have any skin peeking out of his burlap sack hands. There was an air about him that glowed like magic. From what Eerie could tell, he wasn’t a human.

“Are you a fae like me?” The little boy asked, his drawn-on eyes glittering with childlike wonder.

Eerie felt her lips widen into a real, genuine grin. She didn’t feel any sense of youth in the boy, which meant that he was as old as her, yet he seemed to be in his young form, ready to go about in magical mischief.

Eerie nodded, the beam never fading off of her face. His optimism was quite charming, entirely endearing. Goodness, was it rubbing off on her?

“I’m Kooky and I come out here to make this day more fun! Do you do that too? What’s your name?” Kooky asked, inching his way towards her so that they were close, but not so close to personal space being invaded.

“I am Eerie and yes, I bring about a certain magic to Halloween. I enjoy turning people into monsters, it’s delightful.” Eerie smiled, warming up to the presence of another otherworldly creature, something that she had never dreamed would happen or that she would love in the slightest.

Kooky wrinkled the section of his face that served as a nose, as though he were displeased and asked:

“What if they don’t like being monsters? Do you still do it?”

“Of course! It’s my entertainment! They’re all still alive and living well in a haunted house, so it’s good. It’s better than flat out murdering them, don’t you think?” Eerie said, rather proud of what she did with her life.

Kooky shook his head as though he disagreed, which was a crying disappointment, but then he said:

“Why don’t we do some tricks that are harmless and fun? Where nobody gets upset? Wouldn’t that be great?”

Eerie pursed her lips, thinking about it for a second.

“Why not?” Eerie asked. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do in the evening. She wasn’t feeling particularly excited about turning people into monsters, so perhaps childish endeavors would help her out.

With that, Kooky and Eerie disappeared in a mystical fashion, orange and black smoke whisking them both to the more lively part of town, where all of the attractions were.

……………………………………………………

Just like the day Eerie decided to amuse a little girl with her Halloween magic, she summoned vampires and pumpkin pie that would disappear by the morning, whereas Kooky brought out Jack-o-Lanterns with glimmering eyes, joy in every step that he took.

“It’s lovely spending time with you! Can we do this every year?” He asked earnestly, his drawn-on eyes seeming to grow wide just like real ones.

Well, doing magic with him wasn’t too bad. The company was much better than any complaining, wailing human. But would she always be in the mood? Would she always want him around? What would she think as the time went on?

“I’ll see if we can have time.” Eerie said, internally cringing at how she couldn’t give a straight, definite answer.

Kooky did not seem fazed. He went about his business, skipping along as he summoned Jack-o-Lanterns. She never expected somebody to be so understanding, so caring. How long would it be until he decided that she wasn’t a good friend? That he would leave her behind?

No, no. It was Halloween night, Eerie was better than the humans. She would go along with her magic, doing as she wished, for she had the very liberty to do so.

There wasn’t any time for misery on the best night of the year, the one night she could live.

Tale Twenty-Three-The deformation

Christian could hear the ghosts speaking in their spiritual tongues, flickering about in the air with every bit of mystery and magic that was embedded in their souls. Hallows’ Eve was the time for them to rise out and join the living, a time for them to belong with the others. They used to be alive, they used to be human, but at least on Hallows’ Eve, they could dance with society.

But Christian still didn’t feel the desire to walk out, for the memories of her past flowed throughout her brain, screaming and screeching, keeping her rooted to her armchair, scribbling spells away in her grimoire.

Behind a locked door, she could hear Athan, her apprentice, moaning and groaning, trying to claw his way out. Eerie had done the polite thing and turned Athan into a monster, bringing him to Christian so that he may learn magical spells.

Eerie and Athan were quite lovely company, but goodness, why did Athan complain so much? She fed him every day! She brought him a magical spellbook! Wouldn’t that suffice?

But no, nothing would be better than seeing her family again. She was haunted by so many ghosts, yet none of them were her family. Did they all pass on? Did they all not want to see her?

No, no. There are so many ghosts, all of them wouldn’t be able to show their faces. Her family was there, she just had to look harder.

The town didn’t celebrate Hallows’ Eve. They all went about their daily lives, only they seemed to pray more than they normally did. None of it was a problem to her, but she only wished that they didn’t have such an aggressive air about it. If they didn’t seem so full of rage over nothing, then perhaps Christian would be more kind with her feelings about them.

Her writing hand grew absurdly tired, she let it fall between the pages of her grimoire.

Her eyelids were so heavy, so weighted, like they would bleed right into her sockets. Maybe a little rest wouldn’t hurt too much.

……………………………………………………

Christian watched from outside as their house burned away, as the screams of her family rose. Nobody loved them much, it was evident in how the people declared them as “Monsters!” “Witches!” “Demons of the night!”

But did they really have to burn her family? Burn them out? Leave them to scream?

Christian tried opening the door, but it was locked up, possibly enchanted.

Why wouldn’t they let her in? Why didn’t they let her burn with them?

Their screams rang throughout her ears, all around the edges of her soul…

……………………………………………………

It was a fascinating thing, watching her hands go pale and thin, her body break away, her skin crack like paper.

Whatever was going on with her? Why was her body so coarse? So leathery? She felt her flesh push deep into ribs, as though she were becoming a corpse, a demon…

The voices of the ghosts still wailed, Athan still screamed ungratefully and Christian could still feel her body undergoing a frightful change, but her heart was dying, ceasing its’ beat, although not quite…

Christian saw to it that her powers were kept embedded in her veins, so that she would never truly die, because why would she want to decay into darkness if she didn’t know what waited for her?

No, no. She’d exist for centuries, doing whatever she pleased. The blankness was too much to bear, she didn’t want to see what horrors waited beyond, what the afterlife had in store…

She saw too much already.

Tale Twenty-Four-Walls of school

Darien clutched the bathroom pass, listening carefully to every creak in walls, watchful of what would come. Every night, he had anxiety-stricken nightmares that he forgot right after he woke up.

Somehow, the nightmares were more frightful since he didn’t remember what they were about, but he tried his best not to think about them, for what use was it to worry?

Darien could hear the walls creaking, louder and louder with every step he took. Perhaps it was just that the building was old, but he could almost feel the walls screaming out at him, trying to frighten him, trying to haunt him.

He walked into the boys’ bathroom, pushing down the thoughts of the walls creaking.

He was just going to the school bathroom, it wasn’t like he had to scare himself with any gruesome, terrible things.

……………………………………………………

Darien stepped out of the bathroom, the creaks all around him seeming to get louder with every step that he took.

“Death isn’t so bad. It’s just a natural part of life. You have to get used to it.” A rasping woman’s voice said in the walls, something that sounded coaxing and yet at the same time, snake-like.

Darien froze, shock paralyzing him. The woman was talking to him. Was the woman trying to hurt him? Take him somewhere to destroy him, to kill him?

The creaks stopped. The woman’s voice didn’t speak again.

Darien felt his fear ebb away, yet his footsteps were still tentative, as though his body was afraid of what was to come.

But all the while, nothing happened.

Tale Twenty-Five-Broken souls

Nola opened her eyes, feeling a strange, liquid consistency on her eyelids. She saw red liquid drip on her eyes, felt electric shock-pain course through her body.

She was in a room that had poorly recorded screams and animatronic monsters that reached out with craving claws, as though they wished to tear her flesh and eat her skin.

Oh goodness, the memories…

Mommy and Daddy gave her and Dax candies, but the candies had razor blades! Just like Mommy said, the razor blade candy was BAD! They weren’t supposed to eat it, they-

“Nola! I think we’re dead.” Dax’s voice said.

Nola looked all around, checking to see where Dax was. She didn’t see him next to the walls, standing with the animatronics. So where else could he be if he wasn’t standing with the animatronics?

“Up here.” Dax’s voice said.

Nola looked up.

There was Dax, floating up on the ceiling. He didn’t look right, though. He was completely pale, his body was see-through.

“I think Mom and Dad put the razor blades in the candy. Why else would the candies be laced?” Dax asked, floating down to Nola’s level.

“They couldn’t have done it, though. They’re our parents. They love us. Why are we here? Where are we?” Nola asked, the questions racing in her head.

Dax didn’t say anything for a bit, his eyes seeming to search for the right thing to say and then he said:

“I don’t know why we’re in the local haunted house. But that’s where we are. We’re dead. I still think our parents killed us, though. Nobody else could have put the razor blades in.”

Nola didn’t say a word. What if Dax was right about their parents? They were both upset with the kids, they both wished that they listened to the “razor blade candy” story.

But it could have been anyone at Dahlia. Just because they got razor blade candies from their parents didn’t mean that it was their parents.

Dax hugged Nola, brushing away the tears that fell from her eyes. Tears? She was crying?

Her chest heaved, her head rang, the sobs got louder and louder…

Her parents, who loved her and cared for her, who protected her…killers? Why did Dax always think that it was their parents? Did he really hate them that much? Did he really think that their parents could be capable of murder? That they could do such things to their own kids?

“Don’t think about it too much. I think it might have been our parents, but we don’t know. We don’t know anything about our deaths. What we do know is that we’re here, in this haunted house and we need to find a way out. So let’s do it.” Dax said.

Nola nodded. Yes, yes. They could get out. They were dead and maybe trapped, but not for long. Everything would be just fine. They would get out. Their parents weren’t killers.

They were dead, but they weren’t done for.

Tale Twenty-Six-Love at first fright

Mallow sat on her front porch, waiting for unsuspecting civilians to creep up to her. She was a clown who sat on the front porch of abandoned, visibly destroyed homes every Halloween. Every Halloween, there was always at least one person who was curious about her and who would walk up to her. From there, she would slash them apart and store them away.

She cracked her knuckles, preparing herself for a night of bloodshed. Ever since that night on Halloween, when she came to the realization that she was more than a mere entertainer, Mallow had been ripping apart any humans that she could grasp her claws on, taking delight in their fright. They deserved it for being stupid enough to approach her.

But there was one human man on the brown, dying lawn filming her with a silver, bulky VHS camcorder behind a bush. Those walking by didn’t notice him much, for they only glanced at Mallow and focused entirely on the “shock of a clown sighting”.

The man was dressed in ripped up jeans and had on a black tee shirt with maddeningly jagged white letters on it, letters that Mallow couldn’t read. He had chipped black nails, the tips of his nails smudged with dirt.

Mallow watched him for a bit, ever so fascinated and slightly bothered. Whatever must he film her for? Didn’t he realize that he was doing was damnably insane? Why was he wearing a tee shirt in such cold weather?

But she didn’t do anything for a bit. She simply stared at him, taking care not to blink, anticipating his next move.

He didn’t run. He didn’t scream. He stayed right where he was, filming her with that over-the-top camera.

Finally, Mallow got up from the steps and approached the man, having had enough of fulfilling his foolish wishes.

“What is it that you want? People generally don’t eagerly come up to a clown at an abandoned house.” Mallow seethed, hands on her hips.

The man flushed and brushed back his long, black hair as though he were infested with bouts of nervousness and then he said:

“I heard of you and I’d like to film you for this horror movie project that I’m doing. I hope that’s okay with you.”

Ah, so that was what he wanted! But if he heard of her, then he heard the legends of her! The rumors of humans disappearing by her claws…

Did he think at all?

“Come on in, I’ll show you around, uh…”

“Asa. My name is Asa. You are?”

“Mallow. Come now, let me show you this lovely rotting house from the inside.” Mallow said, gesturing to the crumbling structure that loomed above hardly-there grass.

Asa nodded and followed close behind, still filming her. Mallow said nothing on it, for if he was doing a horror movie project, then why stop him?

Might as well let him live his dreams.

……………………………………………………

“I always ensure that I explore every single house I stay at, just so I can get a feel of all the forsaken homes.” Mallow said, gesturing to the cobwebbed hallway they stood in.

“And why do you come here? Why are you a clown?” Asa asked.

It seemed as though he believed that she was an actress, that she was only playing a part for personal motives. It was charming, really. How curious he was. How much he wanted to dig deep into the mystery and horrors, questioning not what Mallow would do.

“I like how forgotten homes look. There’s a certain beauty in that. As for being a clown? Let’s just say that it’s a gift.” Mallow said, leading him off to a room of smudged makeup on a dusted vanity.

It wasn’t for her, though. It was just there. Perhaps the previous owners left it behind.

“I know it’s not exactly scary, but would you like me to paint your face like a clown? Like me?” Mallow asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Asa’s eyes lit up, his smile spread wide and then he said:

“Sure! I’d love to look like a clown. I feel like one every day already.”

Mallow giggled to herself as she grabbed the makeup kit. What a comedian, that Asa! For someone dressed in gloomy clothes, he was such a little goof!

He was already sitting on a chair when she turned around with the makeup kit, prepared to have a real makeover!

Perhaps murder wasn’t the only good thing in the world.

Tale Twenty-Seven-Veiled vampire

There once was a woman named Nellie

Who covered her soft, oval face with a veil

Rose bouquet in her hands, she walked down the aisle

Heart racing with joy, white gown fluffed and adorned with pearls

The man of her dreams, waiting to whisk her far away

Head dipped in childhood fantasies of wedding days

Nellie took his hand, her feelings fluttering all around

But something inside her wasn’t so sound

It clawed and it seethed, stretching on and on within

Nellie tried her best to hide it deep in her skin

But everything was beginning to grow blurry, the voice of the Priest nothing but white noise

She pounced on her groom, holding him tight

From his neck she took a bite

The people, they screamed

The Priest, he prayed

Nellie, she couldn’t believe it happened another day

Not a soul left that church alive

Nellie wished that her soul hadn’t died

For the veiled vampire wants something as simple as love

But as destructive as death

She covers her face, hiding her veined, sunken-in skin

Nellie hopes to hold someone close, through thick and thin

Tale Twenty-Eight-Blanket ghost

A blanket ghost is a simple thing

It’s only a white sheet with big, dark eyeholes

But how can you be so sure there’s a human underneath?

A little demon called “Nettie”

Wishes not to hurt a soul

She knows that her face brings hearts to their end

So she hides it with a white shroud

Nettie carries her orange Jack-O-Lantern pail around town

And fills to the brim with sweets that are found

She eats it with her family, the sugary goodness!

Oh, she wishes that she could play with the humans all day!

But any other day isn’t a time for devilish demons

Nettie only appears in the autumn season

Be sure to have your candies ready

Or else you’d have to deal with a crying Nettie!

You wouldn’t want to make a little kid cry, would ya?

Tale Twenty-Nine-Doll of Dahlia

Francesca lurks within a pale porcelain doll

Her torn-apart heart had enough

She waits in a purple and blue lit haunted house

Deep in the depths of the town called Dahlia

A house that appears only on Halloween night

Filled with all sorts of creeps and cryptids

As a demon she should die

But she’ll never forget the pain of her life

Francesca waits on Hallows’ Eve

She’ll haunt both you and me

Tale Thirty-What a lovely sight

What a lovely sight

Eurania the zombie is causing quite the fright

She and the rest of her peers have let the infection take over

Mold brought clarity to their smooth brains

In their world, their rights will forever reign

Wasteland all around, beauty in spoiled junk

Hallows’ Eve was the day Eurania and her peers came into their own

Hallows Eve’ is their day of freedom

It’s a lovely sight

To see zombies roam in the night!

Tale Thirty-One-Dahlia’s curse

It all began with a woman named Christian Dahlia

A witch who lost her family, a witch left alone

She met a faerie called Eerie

And together, they cooked up a storm

For there’s a haunted house in the town called “Dahlia”

A house filled with creeps and screams

Humans forced to live as monsters

Each and every one of them living the nightmarish dream

So take care this Halloween

Don’t fall for the curse

Because if you do

You may spend your days in a hearse!