Puti Jhyau
Stories (5/0)
The Garage
I've never really liked telling people about this, it was easily the most tragic and scarring thing that has ever happened in my life. I've only talked about it a few times, mainly to therapists that my mother continually made me see. I'd never go in detail, or at least not try to, never was one for therapy, I only really went to quell my mother's fear that I'd never get over this; but you can't just move past something like this.
By Puti Jhyau4 years ago in Horror
Shanna and Shrisse
The first time I met Shanna and Sharisse they were just 12. We had moved into the house next door and the two girls in their red and white dresses sat on the front porch of their own house. They didn’t smile or laugh or say hello. They only waved for a moment and then kept staring.
By Puti Jhyau4 years ago in Horror
Inky and Gracie
something happened last month that brought the worst memories of my life to come flooding back. For 3 generations my family has owned land in Central California. My great grandfather made a life there and raised a family. It can be a miserable place, its hot and dusty during the summer and damp and freezing during the winter but the view was rather nice during the sun rise/sun set. The land was fairly close to the small airport outside of town, the only source of light outside of the property. My sister and I were the first two in the family to not grow up there. We lived a short 15 minute drive into town. Everyone besides my parents and grandmother (on my fathers side) had lived or passed away there so needless to say we have a lot of history on this land.
By Puti Jhyau4 years ago in Horror
Mr. Mayor of the Town
One evening of late summer, before the nineteenth century had reached one-third of its span, a young man and woman, the latter carrying a child, were approaching the large village of Weydon-Priors, in Upper Wessex, on foot. They were plainly but not ill clad, though the thick hoar of dust which had accumulated on their shoes and garments from an obviously long journey lent a disadvantageous shabbiness to their appearance just now.
By Puti Jhyau4 years ago in Families
My Uncle's Scheme
My father was a major in the army who, at the time this story begins, had lived in Longueville-sur-mer for fifteen years, to which place he had come, after my mother’s death, bringing me with him. I was then seven years old. He put me to a good school in the neighbourhood, at which I remained until I was sixteen; and was then let free. Considering myself a man, I worked hard to grow a mustache, in which I very ignominiously failed; for it was not until I was one-and-twenty that nature condescended to favour me with that very elegant and martial decoration. I also took to colouring meerschaum pipes, in which art, before I was nineteen, I was considered by my companions to excel, though I did not succeed in establishing my reputation in that line until I had dealt such an injury to my nervous system as I fear I shall never recover. I also became, before long, an expert hand at billiards, though up to the last Bob Le Marchmont could always give me twenty points and beat me comfortably. But I was his better at whist, and was indeed a match for several grave old gentlemen who were members of our English Club in the Rue des Chiens.
By Puti Jhyau4 years ago in Families