A Collection of Frights
Reese Welch
1. Never go into the room at the far end of the upstairs hallway between the hours of 3 and 5 am
2. If the light is flickering in the downstairs bathroom, don’t go in there until it stops
3. If a door opens on its own, do not close it. It will close on its own eventually
4. Sometimes your reflection won’t appear in mirrors. Do not be alarmed, this is normal
5. Sometimes other people will appear in mirrors that aren’t actually in your home. Do not be alarmed. This is also normal. They are just dreaming.
6. You must clean all the mirrors in the house every other Sunday
7. You must polish all the doorknobs in the house every other Friday
8. If you hear footsteps pounding on the stairs at night, do not get up to see what it is
9. If you see a baby’s breath flower on the kitchen counter in the morning, you must write a formal apology note to the house and leave it where you found the baby’s breath overnight
10. You will never dream of this house. Others will.
11. If you see a poppy flower on the kitchen counter one morning, you must start making plans to move out of the house
12. If you wake up one morning and find your mouth is filled with flower petals, leave the house immediately and do not return
13. If you find your limbs are becoming heavy, if you feel yourself moving slower as the days drag on, if words become more difficult to come by and a fog drags you down, get out of the house for as long as you can until you start to feel better
14. Some mornings you will wake up with wooden legs. The house is not happy with you.
15. Refusing to acknowledge the warnings will only result in further punishments from the house. Do not do this.
16. Your skin might begin to match the wallpaper. At this point it is too late.
17. The house comes fully furnished for a reason. Do not sell anything.
Matthew Gustafson
At what point does the pagan cross with the sanctified? Is the syncretism of two fundamental opposites a uniting force for good or for ill? For the old practices to survive, must they join with the new teachings?
All I know for certain is that my faith in powers greater than myself is unshakeable. Staring out my window, faced with that same ineffable visage, my beliefs are ultimately solidified. I am both intrigued and terrified by it. With wings as radiant as the morning sun, contrasted with a body so misshapen and so malnourished it could be hardly recognized as a humanoid form, it floats outside my window. For many nights, its gaze has been directed elsewhere, never paying me any mind.
What thoughts go through this creature’s head? Can it even think? Or is it no more than a base animal, driven only by instincts and natural tendencies (if such a thing could even be considered natural)? It is beautiful and horrific, a perfect amalgamation of the old and the new, be it an angel or winged beast of yore.
It makes no noise outside my window, even with its incessant but hypnotic flapping of its wings. It speaks no language nor seems to exhale a breath from its body. Is it even alive? I wish to know more.
One week ago, I opened the window. Outstretching my hand, I touched its supple coat, smooth like velvet. Its wings were well-kept like fresh down in a pillow. For something with such an eldritch appearance, it is sublime to the touch. Ever since then, I cannot resist the temptation to grope this creature in all its magnificence. It pays me no mind, makes no movements; it is as if I do not exist, or rather, that I am like an ant to it, an insignificant creature that is not worthy of attention. What a terrible and euphoric experience!
This night is different. As it sits outside my window and I gaze at its incredulous form, its glowing eyes peer directly into mine. I feel a chill run down my spine; is it excitement or fear? Paralyzed, I see a long arm or other sort of appendage reach under the window and unlatch it. It floats silently towards my bed, gracefully and menacingly. I relinquish myself to its will as I am grabbed by this beast. Am I being ascended to the heavens above or dragged down to the depths of hell? Or am I simply prey being ensnared by a vicious and hungry predator?
I care not where I am taken, for my faith in such an unstoppable power both sacred and pagan is unshakeable. This is as it should be.
Alyson Zabala
Lately, it’s been really hard for me to fall asleep. You think at twenty I would be able to handle nightmares, maybe even stop being a big pussy, pop a couple of melatonin pills, and knock out? But the past weeks though have been pretty bad. It’s weird; I used to be able to just ignore them. Maybe I would wake up in the morning with a jump, but the rest of my day would play out fine.
But I can’t stop thinking about my fucking teeth.
It’s not the first time I’ve had nightmares about my teeth. When you had an overbite as bad as mine in high school, it was like mounting the biggest target on my back: I was easy pickings for anyone, even incel, hunchbacked bastards would point and laugh. But these nightmares feel really different.
Every night, it’s the same thing. I’m standing in front of the mirror above my sink and I open up my mouth. And just…so much teeth. So much. Fucking. Teeth. My gums become this never-ending mass of flesh, stretching downward into what’s supposed to be my throat. Rows upon rows of jagged, mountainous canines. My molars stab into my cheeks, almost ripping through my skin, trying to greet the breeze of the bathroom draft. My incisors and bicuspids battle for dominance, shoving and jolting out of my jaw. I could feel my bones grate against each other, the pressure making my head pound. I can’t scream, or cry, or even breathe. All I can do is blink through my tears as I stare at the monster in my mouth. Once I’m horrified enough by my own reflection, that’s when I wake up.
Dude, I know it sounds dumb, but I can’t do it anymore. My parents won’t listen, I’ve gone through a shit ton of prescriptions, every therapist doesn’t know what the fuck to do with me: I’m just done.
I think I’m gonna call it a night. The pen keeps slipping from my hand, I can barely hold it steady. Gripping the pliers really cramped up my hand, y’know? Plus, all the drool is starting to smear the ink, and I have to be sure you can read this when you find it.
But at least I finally get some sleep tonight.
Paul Sandford
We sat around the virtual campfire on Zoom, as Tea detailed her cursed life. From terrorist cults to falling bodies, and owning a haunted house while showing us rather inconclusive evidence:a dog filter being applied to nothing, bruises allegedly sustained in her sleep, an ominous orb, crawling shadows. It was all a little too film-like. Matt detailed his entire family seeing a large unidentified object floating in the air, the size of a city, causing their house to vibrate before jumping away at a rapid speed. I dismissed it as fever dreams. Any potential encounter with the supernatural that I had, I fiercely stood down, and found them to be mostly natural. Slightly perturbed by their highly detailed stories, I headed to bed and scrolled through my phone’s photo gallery. I happened upon a video in which I was laying on my bed, with only my knees visible from being propped up. A woman stood at the foot of the bed. Her features were indescribable. She had a face but yet she was faceless. She wore clothes, but there was nothing memorable about them. And in a blink, the woman appeared beside me with her head laying on my chest. The video ended. I didn’t remember this ever occurring, and quickly deleted the video. I probably didn’t want to remember. I slept. She appeared in my dreams, brooding and sulking. We were in utter darkness. I called out to her but she refused to speak. She would evade me if I approached her and follow me when I moved away. We became stuck in this orbit around each other. In my curiosity to know about her, I began to know less about myself. It was as though she was sucking all of my passion out of me. I became a jealous, bitter husk, as she flaunted the passions that were once mine. I woke up, devoid of happiness and hopelessly unable to think of a solution aside from one. I opened the balcony door to my 15th floor apartment and jumped off the ledge. The woman from my dreams, one floor below, watched from her balcony as I plummeted to the ground.