J. K. Anderson
Bio
An author tied to the belief that Christ is YHWH. Open minded and eager to show my wild imagination to all people. I'm not a happy writer but I'm happy to write. Doing it all for fun and a distraction from reality.
Thanks for stopping by :)
Stories (34/0)
Tale of Toby
Tragedy at the Manson Mansion CHAPTER 1 Droplets of water quickly rush down the dark marble grave as sheets of rain spread across the vast cemetery. A young boy with a blue raincoat too long for himself stands unaffected by the rainstorm staring intently at the grave marked “Tobi.” The boy is holding a soggy black stuffed cat with a loose right arm, the string that held together the limb to the body showed it must have been stitched back together on countless occasions. The child slowly walks closer to the grave, kneeling in the moist and soggy ground right before it. Placing the black stuffed cat on top of the grave he drags his fingers across the engraving. Leaning his forehead against the marble he whispers,
By J. K. Anderson7 months ago in Horror
Ghost Story
And something did go horribly wrong, all wrong in every way. First, it started when I spilled my coffee all over my work shirt. Work was rough too, every customer was such a pain and it felt like the day was moving in slow motion. I was happy to go home but too happy it seems. I got a speeding ticket for going 45 in a 30. Finally when I reached home the previous mishaps were simple inconveniences compared to what was to come. I got home to see my dog had gotten into some of the grapes I left on the counter and died. I had the dog taken away and grieved for my sweet friend. As I grieved I realized the same sensation as the nights before. A cold shift in the temperature, heavy pressure in the air as if I was being pushed into my bed. My thoughts began to race as I juggled my days inconvenience, my animals death and the horrid feeling that ate at my stomach. My gut told me to run, get out and get as far as I could from this place. However, I had nowhere to go and no money to rent anywhere else. I dealt with it, trying to find some rest closing my eyes. I could not relax, every few minutes or so I could feel the breeze of something moving over my body. As I opened my eyes nothing was there, my heart raced and I could not calm myself down. After hours of this I gave up on sleeping, battling the pressure of the air and the guy feelings that told me to get out in all capital letters. I began to read and as I did the lights began to flicker, I could almost feel the tension in the air. Where was it coming from? How could I stop it?
By J. K. Anderson8 months ago in Poets