Hello all, I've recently decided to start writing a bunch of random short horror stories, and at the suggestion of a few people I'll be posting them here. So expect a new story to show up every week or two and to make things a little more interesting, I've decided to take the idea's from the viewers, so every so often, I'll ask the readers to post an idea for next weeks story. The process is first come, first serve, so the first idea I see will be the one used, (Unless it is a joke or spam). I hope you guys enjoy my work and feel free to give me constructive criticism or tell me what I did right. Okay, enough babble, let's start this horror show, shall we?
Those who Cannot Forget
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Hector Benson never believed in the supernatural, he was never interested in sitting around the campfire and listening to people weave tales of ghostly encounters, nor had he ever been afraid of any bogeymen that may have been lurking underneath his bed or within his closet. To him, these were all irrational and unwanted wastes of time and Hector never was one to waste his time, but in contrast to his distaste for the irrational, he was also a very proud youth and as such he never turned down a bet or dare, and that is how our story begins.
Late one Autumn day, Jonathan Weiland, a classmate of Hectors, approached him with an interesting dare; John and three of his friends were heading up to the old Balden house that night and in an attempt to see if the rumor about Hector never turning down a dare was true, decided to ask him along, and as always, Hector accepted. So Hector met up with the four boys at 9:30 as they had discussed and together they set off for the abandoned house on the outskirts of the town.
After finally reaching their destination, the five young boys found a loose board covering a window and managed to climb into the main foyer. It was here that John took the opportunity to explain the story of James Balden and why this was a house everyone in town avoided. Apparently, in 1978, James Warwhith Balden had been a successful pharmacist and entrepreneur, he was highly respected in town and his pharmacy was never at a loss for customers, to say the least, James was living the good life.
As they say however, all good things must come to an end; in the spring of 1982, James Balden accidentally prescribed the wrong medicine for a young girl and as a result, the little one who’s name was Annabelle Greyford died. After losing a lawsuit to the Greyford family, James was forced to close his pharmacy and his medicinal license was revoked, consumed by grief over the death of Annabelle and the loss of his livelihood, James locked himself away in his estate and was found dead, hanging from a rafter in his upstairs bedroom two weeks later, the only clue he left to his suicide was the last entry in his diary, a single sentence had been written on the last page, “All I ever had is gone, but even now in my despair, she will not forgive me.”
With the story out of the way, Hector and the others made their way up to the room where James Balden had hung himself, once there, John pulled a solid oak Ouija board from his backpack and set it down on the floor. An uneventful hour had passed and Hector was about to pack up and set off for home when he heard one of the boys gasp, turning around he saw that the silver pointer was indeed moving on its own, mostly because the four others had backed a clear distance away from it, he cautiously moved forward and began to read off the letters while John wrote them down, the final message caused John and the other three boys to run out of the room terrified, “Those who cannot forget, will never forgive.”
Halfway down the stairs, John realized that Hector was not among them and unwilling to leave him behind, ran back to the room, what he saw there would scar him for life. The room looked as if a bomb of gore had gone off, blood splatters, bits and chunks of flesh and innards, and even whole body parts were spread around the walls and ceiling, but what was most disturbing was the half transparent little girl who was using a severed finger to draw childish pictures on the walls, she turned to look at John before disappearing with a childlike laugh.
Asides from myself, John and the others never told anyone about what had happened, who would have believed them? Even I had trouble digesting what he had told me, but seeing as I had known John since grade school, I had no reason to distrust him, funny thing is, I received a phone call from John the other day, he sounded shaky and unnerved. He told me that the other night he had heard what sounded like a child’s laughter coming from outside his bedroom door, the only thing odd about that is that both his children are grown and away at college…
©RDKnightZac, 2008
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Originally Posted by MotokoFan
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