The Yellow Wallpaper By Charlotte Perkins Gilman the deterioration of a woman's mental health while she is on a "rest cure" on a rented summer country estate with her family. Mental Illness and its Treatment. ... Gender Roles and Domestic Life. ... Outward Appearance vs. Inner life ... Self-Expression, Miscommunication, and Misunderstanding. "The Yellow Wall-Pepar" It is very rare that simple conventional individuals like John and myself secure tribal corridors for the late spring. A pioneer chateau, a genetic domain, I would agree that a spooky place, and arrive at the level of heartfelt felicity — yet that would ask a lot of destiny! Still I will gladly announce that something doesn't add up about it. Else, for what reason would it be advisable for it to be let so efficiently? Furthermore, why have stood for such a long time untenanted? John snickers at me, obviously, yet one anticipates that in marriage. John is commonsense in the limit. He has no per...
51 Sleepless Night
(Part - 12,13,14)
Horror Stories | Scary Stories
Short horror stories:
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| "51 Sleepless Night" |
Killer Selfie:
(Part - 12)
Okay there’s something weird going on. I don’t want to tell my friends or family – they’d
probably just make fun of me for being scared. I have to post this somewhere though, because if
something does happen to me, then I want there to be someone who knows.
It started with these ‘selfies’ appearing on my phone.
“Haha, right, so you accidentally clicked the camera button when you weren’t looking.”
That’s what I thought at first too, until I found a photo of me sleeping, taken from across the
room. I live alone in a one bedroom apartment. I charge my phone overnight on the night table beside
my bed. There’s no reason the phone should have been across the room from me in the first place.
I deleted the photo as soon as I found it. I just felt weird having it on my phone. The next night,
there was another one – this time it was taken by someone standing right over my bed.
After that, it started getting even weirder. I found a couple of photos of myself at Universal
Studios – and you guessed it, I’ve never been there. It showed me hanging out with my friend David. We
were on rides together, eating ice-cream, getting photos with the giant transformer robots – it actually
looked like a lot of fun.
That’s when I decided he must be playing a trick on me. I don’t know how he was getting the
pictures on my phone, but he was obviously photo-shopping just to screw with me.
Two days later, David actually did invite me to Universal. It was a relief because I figured this is
where he would finally come clean about what was going on. Of course he denied it, but that was all
part of the joke.
Or at least that’s what I thought, until another photo appeared while we were hanging out. My
face looked so surprised as a man behind me forced his switchblade between my ribs.
I freaked. I just went straight home and stayed in my room for the rest of the day. I broke my
phone by slamming it in my desk drawer over and over until it wouldn’t turn on.
The next day I went to the ATT store for a new phone. I said the last one was stolen, and they
gave me an insurance replacement one. Brand new – straight out of the package – it didn’t even have a
SIM card in it yet. But the moment I opened it, I saw a photo of myself saved as the wallpaper.
Only I didn’t look like I usually do. My eyes were sunken like I haven’t slept in days. My clothes
were caked with dirt and blood, and there were open sores on my skin. The photos are appearing several times a day now. Some depict me getting hit by a car, or
sitting in a bathtub in a pool of my own blood. I got one the other day where I was stretched out on a
laboratory table, shackled into place.
I’m afraid to destroy my phone again. I decided it might be trying to warn me, and if
something is going to happen, I need to know about it so I can be ready.
I haven’t left my apartment in almost a week now. The last photo to appear showed me hanging
by the neck from my ceiling fan. I don’t want to do it, but if it does happen I just want people to know.
It wasn’t me who did it. Something did it to me.
Unborn Doll:
(Part - 13)
My family didn’t want me to keep the baby. I could tell from the moment I told them the happy
news. My father just sat there with a look of blank shock, while my mother wasted no time in trying to
console me. Console me? Why would I need to be consoled? It was supposed to be the happiest day of
my life!
It didn’t stop there either. First were the pamphlets from a clinic that was supposed to “take
care of it”. Who but a gangster would use “take care of it” as a euphemism for murder? It got worse
when I learned the baby wasn’t going to be entirely normal. The subtle hints and worried glances turned
into outright accusation. Like there was something wrong with me just because I would continue to love
my baby even if it wasn’t like all the others.
I knew I couldn’t live with people who were so Hell bent on destroying my daughter – yes it was
going to be a girl with beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes. You may think I’m overreacting, but one night
they actually tried to force me into a mental ward so they could declare I was unfit to make my own
medical decisions. The baby’s father wasn’t in the picture – don’t get me started on him – so I had to be
on my own after that. But it was okay, because I was going to have a beautiful baby girl, and we’d be
there for each other even when the whole world turned their back on us.
The delivery was easier than I expected because she was very small. The doctors wanted to keep
her there, but I knew she would be better off with me. As soon as I looked into her brilliant blue eyes, I
knew everything was going to be okay. The hair wasn’t all there, but I just had to get a little pink dress
for her and she looked as beautiful as a porcelain doll.
I don’t know what my parents were so worried about. Being stillborn makes her even easier to
take care of. She never eats, never makes a mess, and never makes a fuss when I dress her up. I have to
apply makeup and a bit of perfume to cover up the rotting bits, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my
little girl. The only thing that bothers me – and this is going to be true of any new baby – is when she
cries in the night. She’s doing it now, but it’s honestly okay. I think I’m just going to sew her mouth shut
in the morning.
Confessions of a Serial Killer:
(Part - 14)
This letter is from a confessed serial killer to his thirteen year old daughter.
Dear Samantha,
I’m sorry I haven’t been around for a while, but you’re going to have to be strong, just like I’m
trying to be strong for you. I don’t know how much your mother has told you, but sooner or later you’re
going to hear about what Daddy did, and I want to tell you why I did it. They’re going to tell you I killed
those 7 kids. That I tortured them first, chaining them in that shed in the woods. You remember the
place – you used to build a fort there and play princess of the castle. You’ll always be my princess, even
after everything that has happened there. You’re going to hear about how the victims were starved and
forced to eat the one who came before them, and how they’d be chained up until the next one came
‘round to eat them up too.
You’re going to see my name brought up on websites and social media. Photos of the murders
are going to be uploaded, and you’re going to have to see those corpses stripped of flesh and put on
display for the whole world to see. You’re going to hear priests condemning me to Hell, and news
stations using my name as propaganda for whatever self-serving platform they can find. And worst of
all, you’re going to be feared because of your association with me.
But you have your whole life ahead of you, and no matter how bad it seems now, this is NOT
your defining moment. These weeks or months until everyone forgets won’t last forever. These killings
will not determine who you are. I won’t be coming home again, but someday after years have stretched
this memory thin, it’s going to be like none of this has ever happened.
That’s why I did it. That’s why I confessed, so you could move on and forget. That’s why I never
told the police that you were the one who led them into the woods. That’s why I turned myself in as
soon as I found the bodies. I don’t care how many of them you got, there’s only one person I care about
protecting, and that’s you, my princess.
If this is what you want, then you should have it. You deserve everything in this world. I know
you told me that you weren’t going to stop leading people into the woods, but at least try to be more
careful next time. Don’t take kids – don’t take anyone they’re going to look for. And when I’m gone, I
hope you find someone who loves you as much as your Daddy does. I hope they love you so much, they
confess for you and you can keep playing forever.
Don’t ever stop playing, Princess. The world is yours.
Love, Daddy
– My name is Detective Mathews. I was lead on the “Killer Miller” serial murder case. This letter was
confiscated after an inmate tried to smuggle it out of the visitation room. Samantha Miller is currently missing, last seen in Los Angeles County. The station is offering a reward to anyone who can provide
information regarding her whereabouts. Samantha is considered to be a danger to herself and others. If
you have any information, please call (323) ***-**** and ask for Mr. Mathews.
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