Laynie helms
Stories (2/0)
Come swim with me
I relive the same nightmare every night. Night after night I walk down to the shore, the pebbles crunching under my bare feet, the sound of water lapping, softly washing over me. I stand in the water, just up to my ankles and feel the cold creep up my legs, into my belly, my chest, until my whole body is covered in goose bumps and shivering. Then I hear it. A soft, almost melodious voice whispering across the water “…come….keep coming… you’re almost home…” it sounds as if it’s spoken with a smile, gentle and reassuring. It’s not a voice I recognise, buts it’s oddly familiar. It’s everywhere, but nowhere. I can’t place if it’s a man or a woman, it’s just a voice, beckoning, guiding, calling me.
By Laynie helms 3 years ago in Horror
The happenings of Hillstead Heights
Chapter 1. Herbert Von Ickstein sat perched on the very edge of the seat, so far in fact, that every time the old bus rattled and jutted over a particularly bumpy patch of road, it threatened to topple him off. He stared anxiously out the window as the green fields and unkept hedges lining the road rambled past. Laying across his lap was a polished briefcase and a black bowler hat, both of which he held onto with extreme precaution. He was alone on the bus, besides the old man sitting down the front deep in conversation with the driver. The bus slowed as the road sloped and wound its way down into what Herbert could see was a little town. He could see smoke puffing from chimneys and neat rows of fences lining the streets. Hillstead Heights, which contrary to its name, lay in a valley surrounded by rolling hills dotted with white specks that Herbert could just make out as sheep. It was here in this sleepy little town that there had been a number of strange occurrences reported.
By Laynie helms 3 years ago in Fiction