#Spooky

186 posts
  • wifey_suicide 1w

    I toss and turn, so my dream doesn’t catch up to me in my sleep.
    ©wifey_suicide

  • antasraogautam 7w

    Room 666 - The Revelation ( Part 2)

    *Knock Knock*

    I knew this time.

    The door continues to knock for another 5 minutes.

    I decided to stay awake and checkout as soon as the sunrises.

    *around an hour passes by*

    Time appears to be freeze.

    It's like an hour has passed but the clock still indicates 3 am.

    I was struck, imprisoned in that time frame.

    I had no option other than to open the door.

    It was Fenriz.

    "Oh! So finally she escaped.", he said.

    " Who? Your daughter?", I asked with a feeble voice.

    He replies, "Yeah!! Seems like she told you....."

    Before he could finish, I ran out of the room. Ran across the hallway, ran down the stairs and reached the reception.

    No one. Not even a sole individual stood.
    Even the main entrance was sealed.

    I was trapped.

    I went back to the room.
    Hopelessly.

    "Her spirit fouled you. She made you see what you probably feared, which your soul couldn't withstand.", Fenriz tells me as I entered the room.

    "So where am I?", I asked in a state of confusion.

    He continues , "In the realm between life and death. I warned you, I told you to leave this room. Told you that this room is meant for her. Sent you a letter, told you not to open the door(here, door to the soul)."

    I sat down and whispers, "Means you are lifeless. You are the spirit of Fenriz."

    - Indeed I am lifeless. Her spirit took your body.
    And now you are dead even without being dead.
    And she is alive being dead.

    *psychological laugh*

    - If she wished to live then why did your daughter commit suicide?

    - She never committed suicide. She was killed. She was pushed off the window.

    - Who pushed her?

    Fenriz looks at me with an evil smile and says as if he was proud- ME.

    ©antasraogautam

  • antasraogautam 8w

    Room 666 - The Realization
    (PART 1)


    I was in Haiti for the bureau's fieldwork.

    Staying in Room 666 of Hotel Revelation.

    I was having my dinner.

    At the dining, one of the staff members asked, "Are you staying in Room 666?"

    I said yes.

    His badge marks his name as 'Fenriz'.

    He whispers, "Leave that room. That is meant for her."

    His strange response perplexed me.

    At reaching the room I found a note which reads-
    'Beware of what you choose because some rooms are not meant for everyone and some doors are not meant to be open for everyone."

    I inquired about that note with the hotel manager but he refused that they have sent any such letter.

    It was late at night.

    I decided to change my hotel the next morning.

    I went to sleep.


    *Knock Knock*
    .
    .
    *Knock Knock*

    I wake up indistinctly.

    Looks out. It's pitch black.

    The clock shows 3 am.

    *Knock Knock*

    -Who's there?

    -Room service Sir!!

    -I didn't call for room service.

    -The lady staying with you did.

    I was terrified with fear.

    I opened the door to rush out.

    But Fenriz was standing at the door.

    He stabs me with a knife and whispers in my ear, " I warned you. This room is meant for my daughter. She died by falling off the window. Her spirit lives here."

    And stabs me again.

    I waked from fear.

    *sighs in relief*
    It was a dream.

    Looks out. It's pitch black.

    The clock shows 3 am.

    That was an exact setting I saw in my nightmare.

    *Knock Knock*

    (To be continued.....)
    ©antasraogautam

  • dabbling_jack 9w

    Spiders Ring

    Cobwebs detered me
    As I stared at the attic door

    I know they're their
    Hidden, lying in wait

    A precious item
    My mothers ring

    Showed me where they were
    As cobwebs began to lace its inner etchings

    Slowly, slowly, it moved on its armoire
    Closer and closer to that attic door

    I cleaned and I cleaned those filthy cobwebs
    But every morning, there were more

    "Stop, STOP!"
    I shouted as they skittered

    In the walls, in the ceiling
    The attic door awaits

    But I won't, won't go in
    I hear them clicking their fangs

    Watching me with their beady eyes
    No, I just can't take it

    But I moved the ring back
    And still it got closer

    Until finally, one day,
    The ring was gone

    And I looked at that door
    That door I kept locked

    Open, ajar
    The monsters skittering inside

    A precious item
    My mothers ring

    They stayed in the attic, patiently waiting
    They knew I had to go in

    ©dabbling_jack

  • mentally_till 13w

    My Body

    Skin to skin, I wonder if she likes my warmth as much as I like hers.
    I wonder if she'll carry on until my body grows cold
    I wonder if she'd continue beyond that
    Would she notice? Would she care?
    As my body crumbles to dust between her fingers.

  • juimui 15w

    OCTOBER

    Festive lights. Starry nights.
    Dropping degrees. Cool breeze.
    Wine glass. Soft grass.
    One fuzzy sweater.
    You and me.
    And the changing weather.
    ©juimui

  • spellwithnir 15w

    She

    She loved storms, the way they whirled and swung through the trees, the way the sky went spooky, the way lightning slashed and flashed.
    ©spellwith_nir

  • jadeivy 15w

    Deaths Toll

    Head cold on the ground, mouth open with no sound. Eyes wide, lifeless and dark. There was the girl death took tonight.

    It was not quick. It was not kind, gentle or a painless time. Death had been cruel, evil and dark with its job tonight.

    Nails broken and bloody from scratching hard. Lips cracked and dry, thirsty for life. Eyes red and swollen from crying all night.

    Darkness makes you wonder but the light will make you turn your head in fright. Horror plays its game, bloody without any shame. Now what story have you journeyed into, anyway?

    ©jadeivy

  • normancrane 16w

    After Dark

    After autumn's leaves depart, the branches
    hang like spiders after dark, impending
    winter moons and ice: The night advances.
    Silence echoes the silently standing
    trees. Ravens sail upon the frosted breeze,
    and the small burrow for the longest sleep.
    A cold rain collects in puddles of unease,
    The naked forest unobscures a deep
    uncertainty about tomorrow,
    And the foxes speak in quiet snowfall voices
    of the days that were and will be hollow,
    Lanterns light a carriage. Doubt rejoices.
    In the dusk black vegetation spreads like cracks
    in glass. The carriage scratches tracks
    into a muddy past.

  • normancrane 17w

    Ashes

    1975. My mother died,
    And forever cold she burned: cremated
    No ceremony, no final goodbye,
    Her will leaving me uncompensated.
    Alone but for her ashes in the urn,
    Which sometimes buzzed like bees and wheezed like breath,
    I kept it shut until the day I learned,
    That she would be my burden even after death.
    Now every day I lift that hideous lid,
    Remove the tiny skeleton within,
    And place screeching in its awful stead,
    Held by the tail, still in its fleshy skin,
    A freshly caught rat / Hungry ash covers,
    The dead too devour their living lovers.

  • jadeivy 17w

    Darkest Dare

    It's your darkest dare.
    Lingered inside you for many years.
    Peaking out to play,
    But always being washed back away.

    It's your darkest dare.
    A few times tempting your twisted mind.
    Crossing lines,
    But coming back inside.

    It's your darkest dare.
    Not your only dare.
    Not your only scare.
    Not your only mountain to ride.

    It's your darkest dare.
    A pleasure you hide.
    But now is not the time to lie.
    This dare must come to life.

    It's your darkest dare.
    Will it be the last of them too?


    ©jadeivy

  • jadeivy 18w

    Paranoia

    Eyes behind me,
    Beeming through my skull.
    Watching my every move,
    Calculating who I am.

    The camera spins!
    Full panel view.
    Every angle, every inch.
    There's no hiding from this.

    Each whisper made.
    Every touch performed.
    Written down for the study,
    The narrative they've begun.

    Gossip and rumors.
    Laughter and shame.
    I hear them and feel them.
    Everyday.

    ©jadeivy

  • wandering_ 18w

    Beautiful bride

    Flowers strewn across the grave
    Cry aloud with breeze
    We were meant to go on a wedding
    Not lie here with muddy leaves
    Graves sighed and shows remorse
    I hear you sister
    what a chaos
    But you are in luck you see
    Buried in her wedding dress
    There’s a bride inside me
    Only to find her groom
    She appears at night
    In darkest of time as clock strike nine
    The howling wolves
    Sings her glory
    Oh how phenomenal is her aura
    Even witches fondly call her Nora ,
    But don’t you fear my dear
    She is just a bride to be
    Witches crows and sorcerer
    All watch in awe
    As she marries her groom
    On her beautiful grave
    Oh what a sight it is to be
    The spread is phenomenal too you see
    The beautiful bride is hungry she
    After the wedding she kills her groom
    Only to rest till next new moon !!
    ©wandering_

  • nothingleftsoiwrite 18w

    live to die


    and my soul left my body
    and ascended to the clouds
    and then the angel dropped me
    and I fell through the ground
    and yes the devil caught me
    and now he's showing me around
    and then he came to a halt and stopped me
    and told me that I will never get out

    ©nothingleftsoiwrite

  • penny_pavi 21w

    Inspired by Dracula...
    Thought of recreating the scene where Johnathan is taken to the Count's castle... But ended up with these fishy thoughts of bringing Mina...����
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #ceesreposts #pod
    #horror #spooky #dracula #mina

    Read More

    ©penny_pavi

  • sarahrachelea 26w

    Honey,
    If she or he is ghosting you
    Then let them dead
    You are free to continue and live your amazing life

    ~ Don't forget that you're amazing
    ©sarahrachelea

  • crazy_cuckoo 27w

    Sssssssshhhhhhhh kooiiiiiiiii haaaiiiiiiiiiii

    ����sach sach batana mera horror poem apko daraya ke nahi��meri mehnat rang laayi ke nahi����bcz kasam se I don't like horror movies/ stories������I will get scared ���� (*sssshhhhh wo aa rahi hai... dekho wo aa rahi haii*����)
    Ya Allah sab ye parhne ke baad Ayatul kursi padhlena 3 baar��agar dar gaye to

    And let me know in comment section about my horror poem which I have posted first time in mirakee����

    #crazy_cuckoo
    #horror
    #horrortale
    #spooky
    #horrorpoem
    #mirakee
    #writersnetwork

    Read More

    Ruling over my kingdom
    You think you can take breath
    Haha Darling!
    I'm the queen of my kingdom
    Don't occupy my space
    Or I will snatch your breath
    Just look around
    Everything is shaking
    And those scary winds
    Is the voice of my soul
    Don't let me come infront of you
    Or you won't open your eyes
    Your soul will be locked
    In the bottle of color green
    And I will play with that
    Darling! If you wanna escape
    You can escape immediately now
    Haha! I'm the queen of his scary land

    ©aaish

  • quaintrelle_08 27w

    ©quaintrelle_08

  • sarahrachelea 27w

    The most horror, spooky and scary scene
    Is when he saw the ring
    Not The Ring as in an Asian horror movie
    But the diamond one on her finger

    ~ broken hearted man
    ©sarahrachelea

  • queenofhearts1491 35w

    A Demonic Heritage

    I blinked as I regained consciousness. I had hit my head hard, or had someone hit me? Then I realized I was holding a bloody knife in my hand.
    Blood? How?
    What the hell has happened here?
    I was trying to focus but my head was pounding as if a deathsman was splitting it with his axe. A sharp pain that didn't let me think straight.
    I was looking around, trying to figure out where I was. The room looked dusty, ancient, abandoned, full of antiques. A chest with golden flower ornaments ... A huge medieval chair, maybe a throne, but with a broken leg ... Some chandeliers made of thousands of small crystals hung with heavy spiderwebs ... And a canvas, very impressive, but cut wide open in the middle ... Wait this looked familiar ... I knew this place from my childhood days. I used to play hide and seek around this old furniture. This was my grandfather's house and I was lying in the middle of his attic. I came here because my mother had asked me to take care of all these things after my grandpa's mysterious death. My memories came back like small puzzle pieces ...

    Ignazius, my grandfather, had died about six months ago, yet no one could tell what had happened to him. At first the doctors thought he had had a heart attack or a stroke but no trace of this could be found so his death remained a mystery. He had lived in his Victorian mansion all by himself for many years. Since my grandmother had died at the age of fifthy-one, he had isolated himself from our family and the rest of the world. Ignazius was considered to be weird, some would have even said he went completely bonkers, so no one cared about him or took him seriously anyway.
    Years passed by like this, actually almost two decades, without hearing a word from him. Then one day I had received a letter informing me that my grandfather had passed away and that he had named me to be the new owner of his ancient mansion. All this came to me as a big surprise because we weren't even close. The last time I had seen him, I had still been a little child of five or six. So at first I wanted to decline my heritage, it felt weird to accept it after all those years. But then I got curious about it and I told myself, I could take a look at it at least once and then decide what to do about it.

    So one rainy afternoon, I packed up a few things and drove all the way to the old Victorian mansion. It still looked as impressive as in my childhood days. It resembled a museum with its old paperhangings, the ancient furniture and its huge portraits hung upon every wall. Even the air smelled dusty and full of history. This house was like a remnant of long forgotten times, fascinating and mysterious at the same time.
    As I wandered through the numerous rooms, something seemed to pull me up the stairs like an invisible force that I couldn't escape. So I climbed up step by step and reached my grandfather's attic. I could feel this suction getting stronger as if I was attracted to a magnet. Slowly I unlocked the door and it swung open with a loud creak. A ghostly silence welcomed me as I entered the room full of fear and suspense. What would I find in here?
    The air seemed to be filled with a silent humming that kept vibrating in my bones, leaving me bewildered and fascinated at the same time. The room was full of antiques just like the others. At first glance there was nothing special to it. But then I saw it ... Framed by some medieval chairs ... Placed in the middle of the room like a relict of a saint ... A huge blank canvas. The scene looked almost surreal. Why would my grandfather keep something like this up here? Had he started painting after my grandmother had died?
    The white space seemed to pull me closer and I gave in to it. Step by step I kept approaching it, inhaling its mysterious aura, unable to resist. As I gazed at its blankness, a sudden transformation was about to begin. At first I thought it was just a shadow or a change of lighting, but then I realized that one side of the canvas was shifting its color ... Light-grey ... Middle-grey ... Dark-grey ... Black.
    Was I hallucinating? This couldn't be real.
    As I got closer, I could observe that black paint had appeared on the canvas, there was no doubt about it. Maybe I should have turned away, run while I still could, but I was unable to take my eyes off this painting no matter how hard I tried.
    So I kept staring and the transformation continued. A redish glow started to form behind the fabric, very light and subtle at first, but with every second that passed by it grew more intense and bright. A pair of eyes appeared right in front of me, one eye on the black side, the other on the white part. The thought of Snow White's magical mirror crossed my mind and almost made me laugh. This was too weird to be true. But then those evil red eyes focused on me and every cheerful thought was gone. They were looking daggers at me like the devil itself, they didn't blink or move, they would just stare. And every inch of my body that was touched by this gaze was on fire. The smell of burnt flesh started to fill the air but this couldn't be real.
    And then all of a sudden there it was ... A laughter ... None that was filled with joy or happiness ... But one made of malice and pure evil. I couldn't tell where it came from. I didn't know how to stop it. This merciless laughter kept invading my head like a pulsing inferno. I was afraid to go insane, started to scream to make it stop, but the laughter just grew stronger and louder ... "It's the canvas." This thought hit me like a bus. I had to destroy it. I had to end this insanity ... But how?
    I looked around ... A weapon ... I needed a weapon to win this war. My brain was paralyzed by this evil voice inside, it wouldn't let me focus, I couldn't see clearly. I was slowly losing my mind but I couldn't give in ... There it was! An ancient knife, maybe an old pirate's comrade, lying on top of one of my grandfather's chests. It wasn't far from the place where I had been held captive, but still every step I took felt like I was lifting a heavy weight.
    Nevertheless I had to fight my way through.
    And I made it, reached out and got hold of the old knife's handle. It lay perfectly in my hand. I would put an end to this insanity. "Focus on the eyes! Hit the knife right in the middle!", I kept telling myself. It became my mantra to survive. Just a few more steps ... It took me a lot of strength and concentration ... I took aim at the canvas ... And I hit it very hard. The laughter turned into a sharp bloodcurling scream as I ripped open the fabric. Then it fell silent. I felt a triumph, release, it was over ...
    But what was that? Blood started to run down the canvas where I had cut it and the voice seemed to get closer with every breath I took. The blood felt hot under my feet, like lava burning the ground and it kept flowing like a river, aiming to drown me. I couldn't get away. And as the room got flooded with this liquid fire, the canvas opened even wider. Red evil eyes were staring right through me as a dark shadow emerged the painting. The voice in my head was rising once again, louder than ever as the shadow approached me at a pace that was faster than light. I could feel its heat floating through my body as it hit me hard. Then everything around me turned black ...

    I blinked once again as I became more aware of what had happened. Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe the dusty air had made me tired and I tripped over one of the antiques, fell and hit my head. But then again there was this canvas and the knife in my hand ... I wished I could shake off this confusion.
    I was trying to get up, my legs felt so weak, it was a struggle. Just when I thought I had made it, I heard it again ... The evil laughter in my head ... A brain-splitting noise ... A thick blackness started to cover the room like an inescapable haze.
    It was here ... All of a sudden it became crystal clear to me what had happened ... That's how my grandpa died ... I had released a demon ... It would kill me too ... Now ...

    ©queenofhearts1491