Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Spooky Season, Trick Or Trick, Writing

Trick Or Trick – Part Two

“Come on out Brent!” Brent burrowed his head under his pillow to avoid the voice of his next door neighbour Elizabeth. “You know they won’t go away until you do.” Brent shook his head, throwing his duvet across his body and shuddering beneath it, his body chilled by fear.

“We’re not doing this for another year Brent!” The neighbours began to bang on the door, their hurried screams setting Brent on edge. “Just let them in and it will be over.” Brent lifted the duvet, glancing around the room gingerly. “They’ve got our children.”

Brent felt guilt wash over him, his throat pinched by the memories he had made a great effort to forget. Truthfully, he did know why the Baxter family would visit, and why he was always top of the list for their torment, and now, it was time for him to make amends.

Brent was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of smashing glass filling his small flat. He sat up with a start, jumping from his bed and rushing towards his bedroom door. There was another crash, and as he poked his head round the door, he could see a crowd of his neighbours forcing their way through his broken living room window, the Baxter family stood behind them, in smiling silence.

“Okay!” He called out, throwing open the bedroom door and walking towards them. “I’ll let them in.” The crowd froze and Brent weaved through them, his heart heavier with each step as he advanced towards the front door.

“Where’s my daughter?” Mrs Baxter stepped forward as Brent opened the door, the lights of his flat showing the true horror of the matriarch, her flesh falling from her bones, and her eyes, nothing but empty sockets.

“I didn’t think anyone would mind, because it was so old and…” Brent began, but her bare stare made him fall silent. She pushed past him, barging into the flat, followed by the elder son, Samuel, his skin, sallow as his bones jutted through and shone in the moonlight. “I kept meaning to put it back, but…” The smallest of the Baxters, little William followed his older brother into the flat, staring up at Brent with empty eyes and a mouth full of worms and maggots.

“Her.” He whispered. Brent stared back at the small boy, shuddering as the child raised a skeletal finger, the last remains of skin hanging from the tip. “I want my sister back.”

Brent gulped, nodding as the family stepped closer.

“Okay, I’ll just go and get it.” The family glared at him, stepping ever closer and he smiled nervously. “I mean, her. I’ll go and get her.” He sprinted back towards his bedroom, diving under the bed, frantically searching until his hands came upon a small black box. He scrambled out from under the bed, lifting the lid and staring down at the small skull, all that remained of little Wendy Baxter.

“Bring her to me!” Her mother cried as Brent rushed back towards the living room, thrusting the box at her and stepping back out of her reach. Mrs Baxter sighed, cradling the skull in her arms, the box it had lay in discarded on the floor. “Now my baby can rest.” Tears fell from her empty eyes as a small girl, transparent and timid emerged behind her mother’s skirt, embraced in an instant by the twin who had missed her for an eternity.

“Wendy!” William exclaimed, clutching the sister that had been stolen from him. The two children shared a smile, before linking hands and motioning to the surrounding crowd who began to follow them to the front door.

“You take these nice people to their children, little ones.” Mrs Baxter said, waving at her youngest children as the crowd trailed after them into the dark night. “Mummy has something to take care off.” She rounded on Brent, Samuel crossing the room and slamming the front door with a wicked smile.

“Look, it was an accident, okay?” Brent whispered, stumbling back as the undead mother and son advanced on him with wrathful stares. “I just wanted something cool as a decoration, and it was just lying on the cemetery floor…” He tripped, clattering to the floor, helpless as they got closer.

“Liar!” Samuel snarled, pinning Brent to the floor. “You dug her up.” Brent tried to fight back, but he was powerless, watching in terror as Mrs Baxter knelt beside his body and wrapped her flayed hands around his neck.

“You’re coming with us.” She spat with a smirk as the world faded to darkness around Brent.

The people of Norman Court moved on, happy that October was now just another month, and the Baxter family rested happily in their graves, reunited once more.

As for Brent, he was never seen again. Nobody mentioned his name. His flat was let out again, and was taken on by a nice couple who had no idea of Norman Court’s reputation. It was as if he had never existed, except on Halloween.

Some say that when night falls on October 31st, you can see Brent Hutton wandering the halls and stairways of Norman Court, watching his neighbours from the balcony with a frenzied, seething stare, never able to forget how they helped the Baxter’s to take their revenge.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Spooky Season, Writing

Flashback – I Need You So

Meredith is the most beautiful girl in school.

There’s something about her that drives me wild. I can’t describe it, it’s like I can’t think straight around her.

She has the most gorgeous eyes. I see them everywhere I go, and I feel like they’re something I’m going to remember for the rest of my life.

Did you ever see eyes like that? Just so stunning that they knock the wind right out of you? I doubt it, unless of course, you’ve met Meredith.

I see her eyes in the stars at night, in the streetlights as I walk home and wait for the next day to arrive so I can see her again.

It’s crazy to think I didn’t ever notice her before, and then, boom, suddenly, there she was, with those eyes, lighting up the darkness.

We had just finished PE, my team had won netball and I was on a high, but feeling pretty thirsty, and she just… appeared. She let me have some of her water and as I drank it down and looked up at her face, I saw her eyes and it was like my soul left my body. All at once, I fell in love, like they do in films or love songs. It was like my whole life began again. Our life.

I felt so shy around her all of a sudden, stumbling over my words and tripping over my shoes, but she didn’t seem to care. We just connected. We spent the whole of our lunch break talking, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her eyes the whole time.

It all happened so fast, she used to be some girl in the background and then, she was the only girl I noticed. The only girl I’d ever wanted. I couldn’t stay away from her.

We’d meet in secret between lessons, just to be together away from prying eyes. I didn’t want anyone else to look at her, not the way I did. We didn’t touch. We barely even kissed but there was this irresistible electricity between us in those moments, and when we were apart, I couldn’t stop thinking about those few minutes we would have alone, just the two of us.

We’d stay up late on the phone until she fell asleep. I didn’t say much, I just wanted to hear her voice, and when she finally drifted off, I’d fall asleep to the lullaby of her soft breathing, dreaming of the day she’d fall asleep in my arms.

We didn’t tell anyone. It’s a small town, with a lot of gossip and a lot of backwards attitudes, so our love had to be a secret, but we’d make plans to run away together all the time. I started saving my pocket money and even got a Saturday job so that I’d have enough for us to start a new life. Meredith had always wanted to go to Paris, so I saved my money, even learning a little French to get us closer to our new life.

It was all so perfect, just like her, and her eyes. You really have to see them, except you can’t, because they’re mine.

At least I think so. I want them to be, and it feels right, like we were always meant to be, but sometimes, she makes me feel like I’m losing her. That’s love, I guess. It has ups and downs.

We had been together a month when things started to change. She’d forget to meet me at break time, or she’d take a little too long to text me back, and I could feel her slipping away from me.

It was Darcy, her stupid, so called best friend. I never understood why they were friends in the first place. Meredith was so sweet and kind, but Darcy was a stone cold bitch. It was absolutely pathetic.

I knew she was a bad influence on Meredith, infecting her with her shallow, salacious behaviour, even trying to fix her up with one of the boys in our class. Meredith would make excuses for her, talking about how Darcy didn’t know she wasn’t into boys, and was just trying to be helpful…

Let me ask you this. What kind of “best friend” doesn’t know that their best friend is a) a lesbian b) already taken. I knew that Meredith was lying to protect her. Darcy, for all her faults (and there were many) was Meredith’s best friend. She must have told her about us, and Darcy still decided to try and set her up with some hideous boy. It was disgusting.

You have to understand, something needed to be done. You can’t just let these things happen, you know? And it’s not like I hurt her, or anything, so I never really got what all the fuss was about. I was just going to scare her off, put some distance between them, for Meredith’s sake. I knew she was too shy and sweet to tell Darcy to back off, so I had to do it for her.

I was going to let her out of the store cupboard. I just needed to spend some time with Meredith first. How was I supposed to know that it would catch fire? The ropes weren’t even that tight. She could have got out if she wanted to. If the school decides to stock a cupboard full of flammable materials, that’s really on them, and not me, right? Like I said, I was going to let her out, but it just… caught fire first. What’s a girl to do?

Meredith stopped spending time with Darcy after that, and it was good. Really good. She needed me, and I took care of her, like a good girlfriend is supposed to. I even spent some of the money I’d saved so we could spend the weekend at a nice hotel, just the two of us, alone at last. I told my parents that it was a school trip, and we set off into town for a few days of spa treatments, late night movies and preemptive wedded bliss. We were going to be together forever, so what was the harm in practicing early?

I didn’t want it to end. It felt like we were in our own little world, just the two of us, nobody else. That was how I liked it. The moments of silence were serene. I’d just look at her, and realise that she was the one thing in my life that made it complete.

We even snuck into the restaurant and had alcohol with dinner. I felt so grown up. The barman probably knew that we were underage, but he didn’t say much to me when he gave me the drinks. He was enthralled by Meredith though. I got a bad feeling about that. He’d look at her a little too long, asking her questions, asking for her name a lot, even asking if she had any ID with her, probably to try and find out her real name so he could look her up on social media when we left. He kept asking if she was okay. She was fine. It wasn’t his business. She was absolutely fine.

I don’t mean to judge, but it’s really not right for a grown man to take such an interest in a seventeen year old girl.

He ran into the road and was hit by a car. Nobody really knows why. Meredith was terribly upset. I tried to tell him that a car was coming, but he just kept running, and screaming about a knife. I’d only used it to cut my steak, I thought he could take it back to the kitchen for me. I guess it was just a misunderstanding.

She was really quiet when we went back to our room, probably just tired. She fell asleep in my arms and it was everything I’d waited my life for, but when I woke up the next day, she was packing her bags.

We still had another night in the hotel, so I asked her why, and she just burst into tears.

She asked me about Darcy. I couldn’t believe it, everything had been so perfect, and she had to bring up Darcy. Dumb, dead Darcy, still managing to ruin our relationship from beyond the grave.

She asked me about the barman too. It was just a horrible accident, and then… well… another horrible accident. Accidents happen, you know, but she got upset. Hysterical, in fact.

She just started whispering about how she hadn’t meant for “this” to happen. I kept asking what she meant but she shook her head and just cried. I tried to hold her but she’d push me away.

She said that it wasn’t real. Her tears flowed, the seconds turning to a minute, and then another, and I just stared, bewildered. She said it again. It wasn’t real. Nothing that I felt about her was real. I covered her mouth with my hands, my own eyes filling with tears as she pulled away. She said that she liked me, so she cast the spell, but it messed me up and… she was wrong. She kept repeating herself but she was wrong. Sometimes, love means never having to say you’re sorry, but sometimes, love means telling your lover to be quiet because they’re confused, or they’re lying or…

She said it was just the spell. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. She said I drank and the spell was cast, but she couldn’t be right, because I could feel it in my heart, burning in my bones, screaming in my soul. I loved her with everything I had, and she told me that it wasn’t real. I had thought about her non stop for so long. She had been my entire world. How could it be anything other than real?

She said that she was sorry, and I just couldn’t believe it. There was nothing to be sorry for. We had done nothing wrong. She was just confused, upset about the accident the night before. She’d get over it and she’d be okay again. We’d be okay. I tried to tell her. It was going to be okay, and I loved her, but she just cried.

She said that it had gone too far. She said that it was a mistake and I just stood in silence, my heart still pounding and crying for her. It wouldn’t stop. She rummaged in her suitcase, pulling out the bottle and she shoved it in my face. She said that nothing I felt was real, but she was wrong, because it was all still there. Her name was carved into my heart, and my heart was heavy with all the love it held.

I had to show her.

She cried. She pushed the steak knife from my hand and I pushed back, watching her fall to the bed. She just cried, and cried, staring right past me as I grabbed the cord of her dressing gown from the floor, wrapping it around her struggling wrists, as she said it over and over. It wasn’t real.

She had to see.

It didn’t hurt too much. I barely felt it, because I could see her eyes as the blade burst through my skin. They were full of tears, red and full of fear, but I knew what she was afraid of. Her greatest fear was the same as mine. She was afraid of losing me, and I was afraid of losing her, but as I dug my fingers into my chest, the blood on my fingers felt warm and my head felt light and hazy, so the fear melted away.

I would always be hers and she would always be mine.

I fell onto the bed next to her, the clean, cotton sheets stained with my devotion, my hand full of my heart, so that she could see it truly belonged to her.

I gazed up at her face, so full of pain, so much sorrow, my own pain beginning to spread across my chest. It didn’t matter though, because I looked into her eyes and my heart, encased in trembling fingertips, softly whispered her name.

It was real.

Posted in Blog, Spooky Season

Storytime Sundays (Halloween Special) – Live – Monday 31st October – 8PM GMT

Hi besties! Tonight’s special Storytime Sundays (on a Monday!) will be starting at 8PM GMT.

We will have three stories to read, as well as new channel point redeems just for Halloween 🎃 We will also have a spooky channel point challenge where you can work together to unlock a demon summoning ritual live on stream 👻

See you there 🎃


Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Spooky Season, Trick Or Trick, Writing

Trick Or Trick – Part One

Brent Hutton had lived in Norman Court for most of his life. It was a collection of grey tower blocks that cast a long shadow across the town, and was avoided by most of the surrounding townspeople.

Norman Court had a rough, and in Brent’s mind unearned reputation. There was crime on the council estate that he called home, but there was crime everywhere, and for every difficult incident, there was twice as much community spirit, so Brent had never considered himself unlucky to live in Norman Court, except, of course, during October.

October was a rough time for the residents of Norman Court, but nobody had it quite as bad as Brent, and as he counted down the days on the calendar, watching the worst month of the year creep closer, he couldn’t help but feel anxious.

The Baxter family were impossible to avoid for the residents of Norman Court, but they had a particular fascination with Brent, and he’d never been able to figure out why.

It always started with a knock at the door on the first of October. Brent had stopped answering, knowing that nothing would be there, except a reminder that the Baxter’s had returned for another year to torment him. They’d knock again and again and he’d cower behind the couch, watching the front door with frightened eyes, praying for the noise to stop for the night.

For the first nine days, all that they’d do is knock on the door, travelling up and down the rows of flats to pay each one a visit, but on the tenth day of October, they began to pay special attention to Brent.

On the tenth of October, it was little William Baxter’s birthday, and he’d always pay a visit to Brent’s flat to celebrate. The small boy would stand by the front window, his hands and face pressed up against the glass, glaring with glassy, dark eyes into the living room.

He wouldn’t move, or speak, he’d just stare from the moment the sun rose, until it set, and then he’d give Brent a little wave before turning, heading down the stairs and vanishing into the night.

He wouldn’t be gone long. As the night wore on, the boy called out Brent’s name, his cries creeping closer and closer as the hours ticked by.

On the eleventh of October, the whole family would begin to visit Brent, knocking on his windows and howling into the air as the hours slipped by.

They would visit him every day until sundown on October 30th, and as the sun fell on the day before Halloween, Brent would dread the dawn that approached the next day.

Today, we find Brent in his bedroom, staring at his alarm clock as Halloween creeps closer. In a few hours, the true terror of the Baxter family will be unleashed, and it will start with one more knock at the door.

All of Brent’s neighbours were gathered by his front door, the Baxter family leant against the bannisters of the stairway with the same sinister smile.

The minutes melted into hours and the clock echoed through his bedroom as little William Baxter raised a fist to the front door and knocked.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Spooky Season, Writing

Flashback – Unwanted Guests

It had been a long day and Maria was exhausted. She hated having to travel for work conferences, but the one highlight was always the hotel. Her employer may be making her travel across the country for days of pointless meetings and panels at the conference, but at the very least, they spared no expense when it came to her hotel, and during the week, Maria had made use of the accommodation provided to her. She had started every morning with a fruit salad by the pool and had fallen asleep every night in the comfiest of beds.

With her dinner half finished on the bedside table, she felt herself drifting off to sleep, trying to forget the early meeting she had booked for the next day as her eyes became heavy. There was a storm getting started outside, thunder rumbling softly in the distance as the rain began to lash the window panes. Its soft rhythm helped her to relax, and as she pulled the blankets over her body and closed her eyes, she found herself enjoying the luxury of the soft sheets and fluffy pillows.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Maria’s eyes snapped open, but there was silence again. She was so sure she’d heard a noise, but it was after midnight, and there was no reason for there to be a knock at her door, so she closed her eyes again and tried to relax again, sighing as she heard her mobile phone buzz beside her on the bedside table.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Maria sat up in bed, far more alert than she’d like for that time of night. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and it was so late, that the sound was a little unsettling.

“Hello?” She called out, but there was no response. She was certain that she’d heard someone at the door, so she grabbed her dressing gown and decided to check. As she approached the door, there was more knocking, and Maria tried to sound confident as she called out again, but a tinge of fear slipped into her voice as she spoke. “What do you want?”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

As she raised her closed eyes to the peephole, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves with reassurances that it would just be a member of staff, or a silly prankster. She felt around in the darkness for the door handle and took another breath before opening her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as she finally allowed herself to look.

There was a crowd of children, each wearing the same unsettling smile and a set of blood red robes. No older than seven or eight, with some as young as toddlers, they just stared at the door with those unmoving, unnerving smiles. They peered up at the door, their eyes still as the child in the centre raised a fist to the wood again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Maria jumped back, clutching her hand to her mouth. She could barely understand what she’d seen, but she knew that she wanted no part of it. Her eyes fell down to the small crack between the bottom of the door and the carpet, where a small glimmer of light flooded through, accompanied by the shadows of the children’s feet, still as the sound came again from the door.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She slowly stepped backwards towards the bedside table, reaching for her mobile phone, her heart sinking when she saw that there was no signal to make calls. As she glanced down at her home screen, she noticed that there was an unread text message sent a few minutes before she had begun to prepare for bed. She hadn’t noticed it before, and even if she had, she wasn’t sure that it would have helped her to be aware of it. It was a simple, spine chilling message, and she had no choice but to assume it was from the children.

“We’d like to take your photograph, Maria.” She read the words over and over, her breath hurried and panicked as she tried to make sense of what was happening. There was silence for a moment, before the children reminded her of their presence again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She glanced down at the text, her heart racing as the knock echoed around the room. The phone buzzed in her hand as the signal briefly returned, allowing another message to arrive, before it dropped once more. Maria tapped against the screen, hoping with everything that she had that the signal would reactivate and that she would be able to call for help, but it was no use. The words repeated in her head again and again, as the children, growing impatient, knocked again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She clicked the latest message notification, unsure of whether she wanted to see but clicking anyway.

There was no text, just a picture. The children were gathered around a man, beaten and bloody. He reached out an arm, his face sullen and screaming, and Maria shuddered, unable to shake the feeling that he was reaching out to her. The children smiled widely around him, beaming up at the camera, their faces covered in blood that could only belong to the man.

She felt sick but she couldn’t take her eyes off the image. Each time she looked, it disturbed her more.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She almost dropped her phone in shock, but the interruption took her eyes from the man, and allowed them to fall upon the landline phone on her bedside table, and as quietly as she could, she placed her mobile phone in her pocket and reached for the receiver of the landline, hoping to call for help. Raising it to her ear, she was alarmed to hear no dial tone. The line was almost silent, but when she listened, she could hear soft, gentle breathing.

She thought about speaking, but kept quiet, her eyes fixed on the door as the caller on the other end cleared their throat and began to speak.

“We’d like to take your photograph, Maria.” The voice was young, almost innocent, but with an edge that frightened her. She sat on the bed, keeping her eyes locked on the door, the shadows of the children still visible underneath it, as they waited, in vain for her to join them. “We just want to play.” She could hear other children in the background shuffling and trying to get hold of the phone as she spoke.

“Why?” The children laughed in response. She could hear it down the phone, but even louder outside, their gleeful laughter echoing down the hall.

“It’s just a game.” The line went dead as Maria sat, paralysed with fear among the sheets and blankets.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Another knock rattled through the room as Maria placed the receiver down on the phone and stood from the bed. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she knew that she couldn’t just wait to find out what the children had planned for her.

Her phone buzzed again, and she opened the picture message right away. Recoiling in horror at what she saw.

The children were gathered in a circle around a young girl, their little faces lit up with smiles, and gripped tightly in her little hands was the head of the man from before. His eyes were open, wide and full of terror, his face captured in a scream that would never end.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Maria locked her phone, trying to come up with a plan, as she found the courage to keep walking towards the door, to find out what the children were doing.

Approaching the door, she leant against it, her eyes meeting the glass of the peephole.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

There seemed to be more of the children than before, all dressed in red, smiling up at the door.

She watched one of the children knock again on the door, her big, blue eyes gazing up with the sweetest smile as her hand slipped under her cloak for a moment. Maria wanted to look away, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of them.

She spotted the man’s head in the hands of one of the children further back in the crowd and felt a pant of nausea deep in her stomach.

“Maria…” Cooed the little girl, standing back as the children fanned out all around her to form a circle. Maria was frozen, stuck in place as the seconds ticked by. “We’d like to take your photograph.”

The other children giggled and pointed as the girl pulled a key from underneath her cloak with a wicked, wretched grin, and it was then that Maria knew that there was no escape.

The children would make her the star of their next photograph.