But good news - I've been writing a lot these past few months! A LOT. My new manuscript is coming along just fine, and I can't wait to share it with you all. So, until then, I thought I'd share a creepy short story!!
Check it out below...
-- OLD GRETA --
Sam Campbell
“What was that?”
I rolled my eyes. “For the hundredth
time, it was just an owl.”
“Don’t you think we should go back
now?” said Jack. “It’s getting late. We’re not even supposed to be out here.”
I spun around and pointed the flashlight
in Jack’s face. He was my best friend, but he certainly didn’t share my love of
adventure.
“You promised you’d help me look for her.
Isn’t this fun?”
“Not as much fun as pizza and video games.
You know, stuff that normal people do
at a sleepover?”
“Don’t you wanna find out if the stories
are true?” I said. “About Old Greta? They say she sews kids’ mouths —”
Jack pushed away the flashlight. “Yeah, I
got it. Don’t remind me.”
We plunged deeper into the forest.
“I wonder what she looks like,” I
whispered. “They say she’s the ugliest — whoa.”
The flashlight suddenly flickered out. I
beat it against my hand, hoping to jostle it awake.
Nothing.
“Toby, stop playing,” said Jack from
somewhere in the dark behind me. “That’s not funny. Turn the light back on.”
“I’m not playing. It’s dead.”
“Let me see,” said Jack. Twigs crunched
under his shoes as he tried to find me. “Hey!” His feet stopped moving. “Whoa…
What is this?”
“What’s what?”
I shook the flashlight one last time, and
it sputtered to life.
“AHHHHHHH!”
Our screams pierced the night air.
We were face-to-face with a body, a dried-up
carcass hanging upside down from a tree branch.
“Run!” shouted Jack, already racing away.
He disappeared into the trees.
Adrenaline pulsed through me, but I
hesitated. My chest rose and fell with every quick breath.
It was only a child, his tiny body strung
up like a piece of meat. His face was gray and frozen, his eyes closed. He
could’ve been sleeping — had it not been for his lips. They were sewn together,
permanently sealed shut. The dark thread zigzagged up and down.
Bile churned inside my stomach. I wanted
to vomit.
“I guess the legends are true, hmm?”
I jumped at the scratchy voice behind me.
It was a haggard, old woman, her spine horribly curved.
“See what happens to bad little children?”
she said. “Children who speak mean things. Mean things about Greta.”
I kept the flashlight trained on her
wrinkly face. Gray hair sprouted in all directions.
“It – It’s you,” I whispered. “Old Greta.”
She smiled wickedly and nodded. “Of course.
You were looking for Old Greta, yes? You and your cowardly friend. Come to poke
fun at a miserable, old woman?”
“N-no,” I said. “We’d never make
fun.”
“Liar,” she spat. “Just like the
rest of them. All liars.”
Something silver glimmered in the
flashlight’s beam. A needle. Old Greta began threading some black string,
keeping her eyes trained on me.
“Greta have to punish naughty
children,” she whispered, nodding at the suspended body behind me. She stepped
closer. “And you’ve been a naughty boy.”
(source: numaniaticos.com/google images)
