I know the title seems confusing but let me explain. We were told to produce a piece of literature that is horror which should relate to a character that we might have created in the past for a writing exercise, it’s weird I know but I didn’t write it and yet I woke up today to receive an email from my teacher who said she loved the unique take I had and well here it is:
Why do I always write characters that are workaholics and in the spotlight? This was something I had never asked myself before but being an English major, Miss Samantha asked us to read through our own creations and find patterns. That was two months ago and ever since then I’m facing a dilemma, the dilemma of why are all of my characters so similar to each other. This was what I wrote on paper but I didn’t mention one thing, why were they so similar to my messed-up version of success? A success I don’t desire any more.
I know what you’re thinking, everyone does that before they develop their own style, and all of us create characters that are essentially Mary Sue or based on ourselves or someone we look up to. I am aware but have we ever wondered why? We as writers can create completely new worlds but we can’t create characters that we don’t relate with.
Often times we say we have writer’s block but what if the story’s characters don’t like the way we’re writing their story? Often times we say that we suddenly had a wave of inspiration on what to do and we write and write and write.
What if the characters are the ones writing the stories? What if even now the realization that I have had is on purpose, to torment me and to torture me because I can’t for the life of me reason as to why, why all of my characters are females with black hair and brown eyes? Why does their sister always kill them with poison? Poison that is essentially an allergic reaction?
Ever since the assignment was given, I had a lot of things happen and since I hate journaling, I just did it once per week. So, this is what happened:
A foul smell started coming from my working desk. (Could work for 4 hours)
Foul smell turned more foul. (Didn’t sit at the working table)
The whole room smells disgusting. (Don’t go there anymore)
I think the smell is beginning to leak. I smell it in the living room now.
I see things that are not there. Figures in the dark with long flowy hair. (I’m not hallucinating)
I can’t close the light anymore, the dark scares me.
I’m feeling better now, I slept the whole day yesterday. I was just tired I guess. I finally went out to buy some stuff. I really need to write something else in this so here’s what I’m going to buy
;)
I’ve started writing again. I just had to remove the source of the smell.
She’s closer now, I feel her presence behind me.
She’s getting bolder, the light doesn’t bother her anymore.
I went out for a walk, when I came back my laptop was on and there was a water bottle, that water bottle is not mine.
She’s standing behind me.
I blacked out, I don’t know what happened. I woke up hoping it was a bad dream but the bottle is still there. One thing I didn’t notice until I looked at the picture again is the two pens that I don’t own, the panda paw and the cat pen and they’re still there. There’s something written in my journal, I didn’t write it.
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Once upon a time, there lived two princesses. The princesses were polar opposites. One had blonde hair and one had black hair. The black hair princess was loved by all. She was always doing royal duties while the blonde hair princess would play.
One day an important fact was disclosed that the black hair princess would be the queen while the blonde hair princess would always remain a princess. The blonde hair princess was naïve, she killed the black hair princess out of spite but she didn’t know was that she was adopted.
She killed the black hair princess by poisoning her with food that contained sunflower seeds, then she cut her up into pieces and stuffed her in the wall of her under construction house.
The black hair princess doesn’t blame the blonde hair princess, she just wants to play with her like the old times but the blonde hair princess doesn’t play with her.
She feels lonely in the walls, sometimes she can get out. She left her favourite items for her sister to use outside. She hopes her sister still likes her and she isn’t afraid of the dark.
It’s really dark here in the walls and I need a friend little sis, won’t you join me?
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I’m going to lock her somewhere else now, she’s getting strong again.
I couldn’t lock her up, I would use a salt and rosemary combo to lock her up before. It didn’t work this time.
She can now move freely. She’s always near me. I hate it. She’s always watching through the corners. I’m just lucky I didn’t see her face. I only see her hair covering her face, she’s planning something.
She’s under my bed right now. She’s already destroyed my office chair, I think the bed’s next. She likes to have me watch, watch her use her claw-like elongated nails destroy things. It’s a threat of what she could do to me.
I can’t reach my psychic. She giggles every time I call him. Maybe she did something to him? I don’t think so, she can’t get out of the house. There’s a salt barrier.
There was a big thunderstorm outside so, I’ve stayed at my house for a few days now, not going out. I don’t know how many days but I dread it. I think something bad is going to happen. Everyone has done the same but maybe the outside is safer than the inside.
Doors keep on opening and they don’t make a sound.
It’s night now and there’s no light in the living room but the door keeps opening.
I keep on hearing laughter. She’s playing hide and seek with me. I need to hide too. She hurts me when I don’t.
I’ve been hiding under my desk for 30 minutes now, I can’t anymore, I’m getting out.
She’s in the living room, I hear her. I hear her saying, “Come out, come out wherever you are,” in that awful sickly sweet voice. I hear her running her long nails across the walls, leaving big claw marks no doubt.
She used to be pretty once, with long beautiful hair and the perfect smile.
She’s inside the room now. I don’t have much time.
I jumped through the window. It hurts a lot. My hands are burning but I need to write this. When I die, someone needs to know.
I think I’m safe here. I’m hiding in the neighbour’s lawn. She can’t come outside.
She can see me. She knows where I am but I think I’m safe. She can’t come outside.
She’s outside. I don’t know how but she’s outside. I can’t see her but I can smell her.
I see her now. I don’t want to. She’s standing under the streetlight. I see her neck, bloody, bruised and swollen from when she tried to breathe. I see her disfigured form. She’s moldy. There’s pus and she has no eyes.
She’s just looking at me. She’s seeing me write it down. She always was a fan of stories.
She’s got me.
I’m back in the house, I couldn’t fit in the wall, so she made some adjustments.
I’ve lost my left arm, I’ve lost all of my fingernails, she ripped each one. I screamed, I begged, I called for help but no one came. She took my legs, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk again. She left my face alone so I could see and my right hand is fine except for the bloody nail beds. She’s letting me write this.
I never noticed how strong her teeth had gotten but she can chomp down on human legs now. She’s smiling at me with those razor sharp teeth.
I don’t know what time it is.
I don’t know how she does it but she makes me go through the torture all over again, my body regenerates and then I feel the pain again. She asks me to write down what I feel after.
I want this to end.
The pain doesn’t end. I’ve lost count.
You can’t die, she says.
Sisters together forever, she says.
I don’t want to stay with her, I told her that. She chomped down my skull after.
Of course I regenerated again, I had a tiny hope that maybe a headshot would be the end but it isn’t.
Nothing works. I’m tired.
She’s letting me keep the journal.
She even let’s me go out of the wall to see the sun but she monitors it, she can’t have me see it all. She says she might reconsider in the future.
She has a message for you:
I’ve got her.
Today, when I went to write my WIP, there was a foul smell coming from the wall behind it. I’m not worried about that, I just hope Miss Samantha is dumb enough to not make the connection. She probably won’t be able to and she won’t have the time but I know you will and I promised Hannah I would get her new friends. And the only way to do that is to picture her in your mind.
She wants you to know that she’ll take good care of you.
She won’t leave me alone for forever after all, sisters together forever but at least I’ll get the time to find a solution.
For your sake, I hope you don’t have an overactive imagination but for mine, I wish you do. But then again she doesn’t need much, the hair and name are enough.
Sorry.
P.S. She likes to play hide and seek. For food, please feed her human meat, she’s recently taken a liking to it. Start journaling, she likes to read your thoughts.