Prompt #2: Back on topic, today’s prompt is an audio recording from a paranormal investigation. Imagine you are a paranormal investigator. We want to hear the scariest investigation you’ve been on, every last detail. Be creative and have fun! https://www.reddit.com/r/writingpromptoftheday/comments/urqtz/prompt_2_audio_recording_from_a_paranormal/
Monday, March 5th. It’s cold, and not just cold weather wise. There’s a chill in my bones I can’t seem to shake. Every sound make me shudder, though I haven’t wet myself since last night. I guess I’m past the point of being scared shitless, in the literal sense. Either that or the fact that I haven’t drank anything in over 48 hours is beginning to catch up with me. Honestly, after last nights ordeal I doubt I’d be able to stomach anything anyway. So I lie in wait, in this damp musty log in the middle of God only knows what forest. I’m lost and alone and hoping the tracker they installed in my boot is still functional. Any minute now someone will be here to wake me from this nightmare. Someone will come, take me home and tell me this was all a dream. Until then, I wait.
But I somehow can’t shake this feeling that the tribe is watching me, the tribe of the lost souls. Abandoned children given up by their mothers and fathers, thought to be dead but I know better. They are alive… and dead. The living dead. Ha. If that doesn’t sound like a scary story I don’t know what does, but it’s real. Real and haunting the hell out of me. I’ve never seen such black eyes. Eye’s with no feeling, no emotion other than hate. I want to believe that there’s something else there. I know there’s not. When the girl grabbed my face with her sweat soaked boney hands and drew me close as if to suck the soul out of me like a dementor, she stared into my eyes. Her soulless, pupil-less eyes tore through my green eyes until I could feel her hold on my heart. She grabbed me, and if not for the Tarzan like boy with the dreads and the black paint, I’m not so sure I would have made it out alive. The rest of her gang chased me, crying and screaming, and wailing in their high pitched screechy voices. Like nails on a chalk board, but I didn’t have time to cringe. I ran, tripping over foliage as I went. Panting and gasping for what little air I could muster. The air hung thick with the smell of the dead and rotting and each breath I took choked me as if hands were around my throat squeezing and strangling me from the inside out.
I await a rescue from my team, from God, anyone. I think no one is coming but I won’t let myself go there. That’s when I hear it. A low rumbling, possibly a truck going over the foliage? Only one way to find out. Even though I’m terrified to leave my safe haven in this dead tree, I slowly creep to the opening. The warm air hits me like a burner and I peer outside. Black, dead eyes.
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