The morning after the Blood Moon felt wrong — too bright for a world missing Kylee. Her necklace sat in my palm, still warm from my grip, and grief hit hard enough to break furniture… and me. Outside, Ja’kari stood where she died, silent as stone. I swung on him, screamed at him, blamed him — and he just whispered, “I know.” By nightfall, we weren’t grieving anymore. We were planning. Jess arrived with maps, warnings, and one impossible truth: To kill Star… or free her. Ja’kari looked up, eyes cold again. “We’re going to Brazil.”

After doing some digging I'm not sure what I've found but, I just can't tell what's going on anymore. There's too many variables, too much scattered information leading to more questions than answers. I have to know. I can't stop now. I need to know the truth.

Elena returns to her childhood home in Greybridge after her parents’ deaths and is haunted by whispers in the woods that sound like her missing brother, Isaac. Drawn to the old well where he vanished, she discovers a shape-shifting creature mimicking his voice to lure her.

Marcus moves into a new apartment where the landlord gives him one strange warning: never open the bedroom vent. On his first night, Marcus hears rattling, scraping, and then a whisper calling his name from inside the vent. A pale, twisted finger reaches through, and a voice begs him to let it out—using strangely imitated human speech.

No one remembers the night the moon vanished… only the red light that replaced it. The air stilled. Shadows shifted. And a girl with a skull mask stepped from the dark like she’d been waiting centuries. Star didn’t speak of the dead—she carried death with her. One swing of her blade, and Kylee’s life was gone. Now Ja’kari knows the truth: the Blood Moon isn’t a warning. It’s a calling. And Star is the one answering it.

He should run. Leave. Call someone. But something about that voice—her plea—anchored him in place. “Ma’am?” he tried again, forcing the words out. “I’m going to open the door.” He pushed it slowly. The hinges groaned. Inside, the bathroom was pitch-black, the only light coming from the faint glow of the hallway behind him. The tub sat half-filled with murky water, rippling faintly though the air was still. Then he saw it. A hand—wrinkled and pale—rose from the water, fingers trembling. Vincent lunged forward. “I’ve got you!” he shouted, grabbing her wrist. But the moment his skin met hers, the water went still—solid, like glass. Her hand stiffened beneath his grip, and her face emerged just beneath the surface, eyes wide open. Not breathing. Not alive. He stumbled backward, gasping. The reflection in the water shifted. The woman’s face was still there—but it wasn’t hers anymore. It was his.

The forest was too still. That kind of silence only meant death was close. By the time I found them, the twins had rifles on my team—Asia’s breath shaking, Jayla’s eyes wide with fear. One heartbeat later, I dropped from the trees. One cut. Two bodies. Silence again. When the blood settled, Jayla looked at me like I was something between a savior and a monster. Maybe I was both. I didn’t kill for glory. I killed to protect what little I had left. But that night, when Asia asked if I ever felt peace— I lied. Because peace wasn’t something I found. It was something I had to fight for.

This is the Foreword, Preface and Epigraph of the story. It explains why I wrote this story plus includes a short story my son wrote for his fourth grade year book. It made first page.

This is the legal crap, the copyright and the dedication. I don't want anyone stealing my hard work.

Here’s a chilling original horror story, "The echoes beneath." Crafted to put a chill in your bones leaving you with a burning fear stitched into your skin.

In the dead quiet of the mansion, Jayla follows Ja’kari into the dark—and uncovers the truth he’s buried beneath scars and silence. A mercenary. Wanted in thirty-two states. Hunted by ghosts he once called family. When strangers in black armor appear at the forest’s edge, their voices cut through the night: “Come out, Ja’kari Vance — or watch them die.” The warmth of laughter vanishes, and Jayla realizes too late—shadows don’t sleep, and neither do the sins that made him.

In the mansion’s shadowed halls, secrets breathe. Ja’kari’s haunted by a past wrapped in blood and silence — a mercenary wanted in thirty-two states, a man molded by pain and loss. When Jayla follows him into the dark, she sees the truth he hides: scars, weapons, and eyes that remember too much. Now she carries his secret — one that could save them… or destroy them all.

She stepped into the mirror. Now it watches from the other side. The Room That Whispers — A 1000-word horror story.

In a mansion deep in the woods, Asia learns the truth about Ja’kari — the boy with shadows in his eyes and scars on his soul. Around the fire, Kylee reveals the horror he never speaks of: his first love, executed before him, her screams burned into his memory. But when thunder cracks, Ja’kari snaps — a blackout, a flashback, a monster waking inside. His mark glows black, power surging as the past consumes him. One shot from Kylee’s syringe drops him. Silence follows. His past, it seems… isn’t done with him yet.

A 1000-word horror story about memory, guilt, and the places that never forget. Mara thought she was there to archive the past. The house had other plans.

“The Hollowing — A barefoot child. A cellar that breathes. A pact that never died.” It captures the eerie dread of the story: a haunted house at the edge of frostbitten woods, a silent boy at the porch, and the creeping memory of a sacrifice that won’t stay buried.

Halloween is that time of the year when everyone loves scary stories. Turn the lights down low and light your candles and get ready for a scary Halloween story.

The museum reopened with a new exhibit: Echoes of the Forgotten. Visitors are drawn to the centerpiece—a tall, feminine structure of blackened steel. They say it hums. They say it breathes. They say if you listen closely, you’ll hear your own regrets whispered back to you. And if you step inside… You won’t be alone.

The house still stands. No address. No name. But if you walk the gravel path on a Thursday, you may hear a voice behind the east wing window. It will sound like your own. And it will ask: "Are you ready to remember?"

The first chapter of a story about a crow spirit, what's his situation? Who is he? And why is there a priest at his door?!