The first, last, and most important thing about me is that I am a reader. I love fantasy, science fiction, and horror. Don't ask me why I like horror, I don't even know. I will be up at the crack of dawn, kneeling on my floor, with a flashlight an a baseball bat. Still, I like horror. Here's the scariest story in my collection, called Clack, Clack, Slide.
It was the beginning of 2005, and a new girl had just moved into town. Her house was next to the train tracks, and she would hear strange noises there at night. She asked the kids at school what it was, and this was the story they told her:
About fifty years ago, there was a girl who was in a wheelchair. She fell across the tracks in front of a speeding train, and it cut off her legs. No one found the rest of her.
Understandably, the new girl was scared. A few months later, when the noises continued to be just noises, she was walking along the train tracks at sunset. Not surprisingly, the noises started again, but this time they had a definite sound: Clack, Clack, Slide. She began to run, getting scared now. When she slowed, she could hear the noises again, faster and closer than before. Clack clack slide. Clack clack slide. She spotted a telephone booth a few yards away and made her way towards it, intending to call home. Then she risked a glance backward. The girl from the story was pulling herself along the tracks. The clacks were her fingernails grabbing the wood slats, the slide was her pulling herself along.
That was the last anyone heard of the new girl.
So I hope you enjoyed that. Now on to the more trivial pursuits of ordinariness.
(\ /)
( . .)
c(''') (''')
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please paste him on your Page
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(u u)o
It was the beginning of 2005, and a new girl had just moved into town. Her house was next to the train tracks, and she would hear strange noises there at night. She asked the kids at school what it was, and this was the story they told her:
About fifty years ago, there was a girl who was in a wheelchair. She fell across the tracks in front of a speeding train, and it cut off her legs. No one found the rest of her.
Understandably, the new girl was scared. A few months later, when the noises continued to be just noises, she was walking along the train tracks at sunset. Not surprisingly, the noises started again, but this time they had a definite sound: Clack, Clack, Slide. She began to run, getting scared now. When she slowed, she could hear the noises again, faster and closer than before. Clack clack slide. Clack clack slide. She spotted a telephone booth a few yards away and made her way towards it, intending to call home. Then she risked a glance backward. The girl from the story was pulling herself along the tracks. The clacks were her fingernails grabbing the wood slats, the slide was her pulling herself along.
That was the last anyone heard of the new girl.
So I hope you enjoyed that. Now on to the more trivial pursuits of ordinariness.
(\ /)
( . .)
c(''') (''')
If you'd like to help this bunny with world domination,
please paste him on your Page
() ()
(^,^)
(u u)o
- Last seen on Jan 29 5:38 PM 2007. Member since November 2, 2006.
- I'm a carnelian hope poet for 93 comments.
- My mood is , and quote is ""When you don't walk, dance!"".
- I am a 13 year old girl (Japan)
- When I'm not writing, I'm a Me.
- I have 93 comments, 29 poems
My Poetry
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I walk in a world
totally without light. -
Moonlight filters through the trees
the forest should be peaceful
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xxlalaxx. on November 14, 2006Hi I love your poetry, keep up the good work!! You really do express yourself in writing!
