Writing Prompt

My brother and I are trying to “hunt” a mouse. We’ve placed bait in front of the door, in hopes that while it’s eating it will get scared and it will run outside. It never runs outside. Why does it never run outside? It stays in the cabin with us, it knows we’re watching it and we know it’s watching us. It’s given freedom only 5 inches away from where the bait is and every single time it gets scar...

The scratching started again, just behind my bedroom wall - slow and steady, like fingernails on plastic. “_SCREECH!”_ they go and I sit bolt upright, frozen like a statue. “Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move” my head repeats. I don’t dare to turn around, so I stay there, in position and feel like I am in a dream. I thought I was in a nightmare - but I wasn’t.

It was like someone cared to join me...

You noticed it first on Sundays.

Those long, slow afternoons where the light slants wrong through the blinds and the air smells like dust and something faintly metallic.

You'd be taking a shower while watching your hands move under the water, and suddenly, they wouldn't feel like yours....

You'd blink. It would stop. (But the water would keep running. And running. And running)

The doctor calls it...

Walls are suppose to make people feel safe. Feel secured.

Nothing can get pass through them.

During the day the walls are quiet, the only sounds coming from the pipes inside of them.

Or that’s just what you might think.

But at night you might hear a small thud echoing throughout the walls.

Most people will just think it’s a friend or an animal.

You dont bother much on it.

However, you have ...

Something had invaded my home, actually more accurately someone. I had watched them bring in their light into all of my well honed and sculpted darkness, the kind of shadow that sunk deep into corners and threatened to break through the edges of the paintings left here by my ancestors.

Anyway this ‘someone’ took joy in ridding my home of all the little touches that made the place mine, I felt pow...

No one really pays attention to the sounds of their walls. Walls make people feel safe, protected. While it might just be the opposite. They hear creaks and assume it's nothing more than old wood rotting away. Too focused on trying to find sleep to notice the noise, the whispers, the screams resonating.

They blame those nocturne shrieks on their nightmares, invention of their minds. Never facing ...

Nobody really listens to the sounds in their walls. The house creaks, the pipes groan, and the wind sighs against the boards—but beneath all that, there is something else. Something alive.

It started in the Crawfords’ house. Late at night, just as sleep began to take hold, they heard whispers threading through the silence. Faint. Scratching voices. Not words—just the suggestion of them, brushing ...

The sound was back again. the scratching, the teeth chittering. I knew something was there, but I couldn't find it. I was going to be driven mad.

It all started when I moved into the condo behind my uncle's house. he let me stay there for cheap, and it seemed like a better idea than paying rent on a big house I barely used. I moved my things in and stayed for a month or so to make sure this was ...

The Walls are green. Green that reminds the eye of nature, where ferns curl around eachother and leaves fan out from the same point.

The Walls are green, for as far as she knows.

The little that she gets to know from under The Blanket, that obscures the rest if her veiw.

While The Walls are green, The Blanket is never one color. Most often it is white, but sometimes it is red, others it is yellow...

Secretive, but unknown. Alive but hidden. What mysterious things could be just on the other side of our homes? Joyce had an unusual feeling, but she never followed it through.

Joyce lived in a small rustic apartment in New York City. The loud setting of numerous vehicles passing by, to hearing the small talk of many passing by. A normal Saturday night turned into a series of horrendous events ...