Short Stories

Hey guys! This is just a collection of short stories that I've written and really loved~ So, I hope you enjoy! :D


3. Layla's Tale - Story Three

Note: Read this in the dark, in silence, for best atmosphere.


Hello, my name is Layla Makentogh. I warn you not to take my story lightly, in fear you will replicate what I have done in an attempt to prove this wrong. I can assure you that this is completely true.

I almost couldn't believe my eyes as I stood, staring, at the place that was now my legal home. With it's dry, withered gardens and it's half-rotted front door, I had thought it was unique, and elegant. That I had bought a home with a history. I absent-mindedly stroked my fingers over the cool iron of the small little gate that was the only thing keeping me out. I smiled; my parents thought that I wouldn't be able to live on my own, that I wouldn't be able to live without their help. I would show them I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

A cough from behind me broke my concentration on the old house, the luggage I had been holding in my hands clattering to the ground, clicking against the cracked and broken surface of the footpath beneath me, the concrete not much of a cushion for the valuables it could have been breaking. Picking up my suitcase and setting it gently against the fence, I turn to meet the pale grey gaze of the taxi driver that had brought me to this God forsaken place. He stuck a chocolate-skinned hand out of the window, obviously waiting for his payment. An exhasperated sigh escaped the shallow cavity that was my mouth as I handed him the desired amount of cash. With a very rude hand motion, he was off, speeding away and swerving all over the road without so much as a thank you. "Jerk." I had muttered under my breath, turning again to face the house.

Once again I admired the simple design on the outside of the house. They'd used a grey-blue coloured brick for the walls and dark-purple plating for the roof, giving it an atmosphere that immediately drew everyone's eyes as they passed, whether in appreciation or fear. I couldn't have helped it; another of my devilish grins tilted up the corners of my mouth as I opened the gate, creaking satisfyingly as I closed it before dragging my suitcase to the door. I was glad my suitcase had wheels, for if it didn't, I would have had a hard time carrying it across the front garden's path, also concrete, though not as decayed and broken.


As I stopped in front of the door, I reached into the pocket of my blouse, and in it, was a key. The house key, to be exact. Though it was a rather unnerving design, you see; the key to the house was made purely of obsidian, a skull fashioned on the end of it. The first time I touched it, the stupid thing managed to stab me. And I'm irritable when something about, or something that is me, is rendered useless. Like my hand, for example; I really needed that.

I sighed at the memory, before shaking my head and unlocking the door, the click the only noise to break through the thick wall of silence. Almost at once, I feel nervous. It was instant, with nothing to cause it, nothing to react to. It was as if something had tried to warn me that there was danger, that I would regret this decision. The part of me that was still a little girl had wanted to run away, to sit in my mother's lap and cry. But I merely shook my head, and stepped inside, hairs on the back of my neck on end.

It was dark, and cold, as I entered the hallway. I could barely make out anything in the black, the only light in the house coming from the doorway I stood in. I reached for the light switch -- which was conveniantly placed right beside the door -- and flicked it multiple times. The light did not turn on. My heart had begun to race, another flash of sheer terror that had made me blanch causing havoc in the dark recesses of my mind. But I forced myself to become calm, told myself that they had not turned on the electricity yet.


So I took a step into the hallway, dragging my suitcase behind me. I had left the front door open to try and ease some of my worries. Well, I can tell you now that it didn't work. In fact, it only made what I felt ten times worse.

My heart leapt out of my chest as a sudden gust of wind shut the door. A small cry of fear slipped from between my slightly parted lips, and my eyes had widened to give me the 'deer in headlights' look, as it was called. I was chilled to the bone, and not just because of the house's low temperature. Gooseflesh appeared on my arms, my legs, everywhere possible. I didn't like my situation, but I had bought the house, and I had to use it. It was just the wind, I kept telling my subconcious, just a little weather. A little breeze can't hurt you.

I really wish I had turned back there, left the house and ran. But I was stupid, curious and bold. Old enough to know better, and young enough to do it anyway. If I could ever slap my past self, I would do it until I finally took the right path. But I can't to that. It's impossible.


So I crept down the hallway, wooden floorboards groaning underfoot. The windows rattled their displeasure, the wind having battered them once and come back to do it again. I sighed once again, walking through the winding hallways to eventually make it to the bedroom, after getting lost once or twice. As I stepped through the already opened door, I got a sense of comfort from the dusty old room.

It was simple, and old-fashioned, completely to my standards. There was a cubboard, a dresser, and a bed already in place. It had a simple white frame, with light pink sheets and a white doona. The bedroom was different from the exterior from the house, and I liked it. It gave the place character. Rough on the outside, but warm and sweet on the inside. A single laugh left my throat as I dropped my suitcase on the floor, my fears long gone. I flopped on to the bed, my exhaustion overpowering everything else. I really couldn't be bothered changing, so I just pulled the blankets over my clothes, and somehow managed to sleep.




My eyes snapped open to catch multiple beams of moonlight lighting up my bedroom, the blue colour feeling unwelcome when I was so used to darkness. My body was shaking violently, shivering to try and regain it's warmth. I breathed out a quivering sigh, my breath becoming mist in the freezing temperatures of the room. I sat up slowly, my joints stiff and weak. Dazed, I had looked around the room. I hadn't searched long, before my eyes locked on something... Strange.

A blue orb was floating in my doorway. For a little sphere, I felt as if it were something precious, and beautiful. But I had also felt it was dangerous, and that I should've stayed away from it. But alas, my dazed mind could only allow simple thoughts, and before I knew it I was following the blue light down a hallway I didn't remember being there. And at the end of the hallway was a door, a very dangerous door, that was completely open. I should have suspected something by now, but my mind and numbed by the cold and the little blue floating creature was oh so desirable...


I had properly come to my senses when the door I stepped through shut behind me, the little blue light floating in the center of the room. My breath left me in an instant, and I had turned around and run to the large metal door, the iron freezing my fingertips as I scratched hopelessly at it, the doorknob not turning an inch. Terrified, I turned, pressing my back against the door, and slid to the ground. I wrapped my arms around my knees, staring at the blue thing. I hated it, hated it with a passion for trapping me in here. But it was so beautiful, that my eyes had suggested otherwise.

"Oh-ho, seems my pet has found something." Came a voice in the darkness. At first, I saw nothing; then a man moved into my view. He looked to be about six foot three, with surprising muscle tone -- which I could see well, due to the fact that he only wore a pair of jeans -- and dark hair that fell into his eyes. Handsome would be an understatement. I would have flirted with him, had he not been glowing and semi-transparent. Strange that I noticed that last.


The man had taken his time to strut towards me. This irritated me greatly, and without thinking, I stood to glare up at him. As I was only four foot nine, the mysterious man towered over me. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made me wince, though I didn't break eye contact. He grinned, before he muttered, "Brave." And carressed my cheek with his fingertips.

I shivered; the man's fingertips gave no warmth, and as he pulled his hand away I felt as if someone had brushed ice against my skin. Another dark chuckle, and suddenly the room was lit, everything clearly visible. This would have made me feel better if the room was neat and tidy, if it gave a home-y feel. But it was nothing of the sort. They air was damp, heavy and lined with murderous intent. The sickly-sweet scent of blood filled my nostrils, making me retch, only to have nothing leave my throat. My vision moved rapidly from place to place, only finding the same thing everywhere I looked; the dead bodies of girls my age, some rotted away enough to only be bleach-white skeletons. Panic threatened to choke me. I couldn't take it; when I lifted my foot, a slurping sound echoed through the concrete room. I looked down to find my shoes in a puddle of dark, crimson liquid. All the fear that had been building inside me escaped as a blood-curdling shriek that sounded from the shallow cavity that was my mouth. Tears stung my eyes and I once again turned, grabbing the handle of the iron door behind me and tugging it violently until it finally gave way.


I ran out of the room and into the winding hallways, passing the bedroom and leaving my luggage behind. I could hear my name being called from behind me, as if someone were chanting a spell, and it terrified me.


I continued to run. I couldn't stop, nor could I scream. If I did either of those I knew I would die. I couldn't stop. I had to get away.

"Laaaaayyylaaaa~! Come out, my brave little giiirl!"

I was panting heavily as the front door came into sight, tears streaming down my face and my shoes leaving crimson footprints against the floor.


I grabbed the door handle, swinging it open and running across the front yard.


I dived for the front gate, though someone grabbed my ankle and I only managed to grab the metal fence. I turned to look over my shoulder to find the same man, looking crazed and desperate.

"F O R E V E R !"

"No!" I screamed in reply, tugging forward and managing to hurl myself over the iron gate. I scrambled back from the fence, before I got up onto my feet and sprinted as fast as I could, away from the horrible, haunted place. I only looked over my shoulder once, to find that horrible being standing at the fence, his face a pure look of sorrow to mask the craziness that lay beneath.


After that I managed to find my way back to my mother's house, seeing as she and father were divorced. And it's only the fact that I made it there that enables me to tell you this story now. I searched up the history of the house, and sure enough, it was the scene of multiple murders. A male teacher at an all girls school trapped a year twelve class down in the basement, and raped and killed them, one at a time, while the others were watching. That had happened twenty seven years before I bought the house.

I'm not going to tell you the name of the house, due to fear of having someone purposely find it, and repeat the gruesome fate. I pray that each of you take my story as a warning, and live. That is all.

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