3 Short & Scary Stories

Phoenix Lights

I know that everyone here is most likely familiar with the Phoenix Lights, right? That fateful day in March of 97’ I was one of the many who saw the large triangle make its way over our skyline. It was something that I’ll never forget. Despite many believing it was some kind of hoax, or that it had a reasonable explanation, I know it was real. And I’m tired of not sharing why.

I was 48 years old in ‘97 and in the many years since I’ve been having nightmares, no, night terrors about the events of March 13th. It went like this. I was in the living room watching some rerun of Family Feud when my wife, God rest her soul, was out on the deck smoking a cigarette. I hated the smell so she often went out there to smoke. Had she not been there I imagine our lives would have been much different. Perhaps she would have even been around for a little longer. There’s no sense in dwelling, though.

I didn’t hear her at first, calling for me from the deck. Even at 48 my hearing was on its way out but when she opened the back door and yelled in, “Barney there’s something in the sky…” my skin was immediately showered in a thin layer of nervous sweat. I’d been listening to Marlene talk for nearly 30 years but the tone in her voice that night… I’d never heard someone sound more afraid; still haven’t. Marlene was a believer. She told me all the time about how she knew there was life out there and one day we’d see it make contact. “Maybe not in our lifetime,” she said, “but one day for sure.”

I pulled myself from my recliner and made my way over to her. Stepping outside the smell of her cigarette hit me like a brick wall but when I looked up… all senses left me. I didn’t care about the smell of smoke or the sweat making its way down my back. In that moment all I knew was that I was seeing something I’m not sure we were ever meant to see. You’ve all seen the videos of it, I’m sure, but a video will never do it justice. The human eye, even at my age at the time, is much clearer than an unsteady camcorder.

The lights were much brighter than you see in most videos; I’d even go as far to say that Marlene and I were casting a shadow on the deck as it passed over us. As it passed the low hum that accompanied it was enough to shake my insides. I swear, out of all the videos I’ve watched of that night, and I’ve damn near watched them all, no one talks about that feeling. That feeling of power that ship had over Marlene and I. I’d put my last dollar on betting that someone had felt it but even after all this time no interviews, news articles, or documentaries have brought it up.

The easiest way to put in words would be like I did just moments ago; my insides were shaking. It was as if someone phased their hands through my abdomen, grabbed my intestines and just began vibrating. It was the most uncomfortable feeling and nothing has come close to matching it. I was stuck in a trance for sometime, just staring up at those lights, until Marlene hit the floor and that’s what brought me out of it. She hit her head hard and in that moment she was the only thing important to me. I didn’t care about the lights; I just wanted her to be alright.

She wasn’t though. I was in no state to drive and when the ambulance did arrive they took their sweet time. I knew they wouldn’t say it outloud but Marlene’s chances were slim. She was unconscious and unresponsive to treatment for a week before I finally called it. Knowing that I was going to lose her on the most terrifying night of my life… I had it rough for a while. I was having trouble getting things done around the house, I couldn’t sleep and I wasn’t taking care of myself. And life, being the cruel mistress that she is, piled more on top of me. On the two year anniversary of the lights I had my first nightmare.

It was like I was back there all over again. I was standing outside, sweat trickling down my back and the smell of Marlene’s cigarette invading my nostrils. But I couldn’t see Marlene, if she was there. My eyes were too focused on the lights overhead. I knew they were hurting my eyes but I couldn’t look away; it was like looking into the sun. A strange reverberating sound made its way from the aircraft and into my body, vibrating everything. I could feel the blood coursing through my veins, I could feel my hairs standing on end, I could feel my retinas getting permanent damage but I couldn’t look away.

Then I heard something. It was a series of high-pitched whines, low, bassy rumbles, and clicks. I can’t explain it but I knew that whatever was on that ship was talking to me. Even though they were speaking a language that was (mind the wording here) alien to me… I heard what they said. It was four simple words. ‘You are not ready.’ Once I heard that, my body shot up from the bed and I found myself alone, sweating up a storm.

I wanted to call someone; a friend or relative but something in the back of my mind told me that wasn’t going to work. ‘You’re old,’ I told myself, ‘if you start rambling about aliens coming to get you right after Marlene died you’d be put in a home somewhere.’ You gotta remember that the world wasn’t as open minded to the idea of extraterrestrials as we are now and…. Maybe that was a good thing. Because the nightmare came back.

This wasn’t the first time, of course. That nightmare continued well over 2 weeks following that night in March but in the last few days it changed. This change in the dream came with changes in my life as well. I’ve been having issues getting out of the bed as of late, and at first I blamed it on being 73 but when I went in for a check up the other day my doctor pointed something out.

I had a large bruise forming on my back where my right kidney would be. I was taken back for some tests but they would take a few days to get the results so I was sent home with instructions to get rest. I’m supposed to go back today, but I think I’ll be missing that appointment. Before getting in the shower I checked up on the bruise. It had gotten bigger but now there was what looked like a pimple near the center of it. My impulsive thought was to squeeze it but I convinced myself it was better to not.

The moment the warm water hit it though, I was dropped to the floor. The amount of pain it caused me… I can never explain it. Nothing will ever compare. I put my hand to the spot but recoiled when I felt something wrap around my finger. Crawling from the bathtub to the floor, writing in pain, I screamed trying to get the attention of anyone who could hear me. Most of the neighbors were older than I was so it wasn’t likely. Finally, the pain subsided and I ran my hand over the bruise. A dime sized hole made itself known, but I didn’t see or feel any blood.

What I did see was a worm or snake-like creature flailing around my bathroom carpet. It was about 7 inches long, just about an inch thick and I could hear it squeaking, and clicking as its little mouth, lined with row upon row of teeth, opened and closed repeatedly. Without thinking I grabbed the shampoo bottle and brought it down on the monster and it let out a small squeal as I did. I sat there, naked in front of God and everybody, crying because I knew what this meant.

I told you before that the dream had changed. Well, I don’t think it was a dream but more a projection from something far beyond our understanding because last night those lights in the sky didn’t call to me and say ‘You are not ready.’ they said… ‘It’s time.’ I’m in my office now, typing all this up hoping someone out there will see it and take me seriously. I know I’ll be called senile or full on insane, but if you read this please heed my warning; don’t look up.

That Wasn’t My Sister…

When my sister passed away we were all devastated. Our family, that being myself, my mom, dad and his sister were like peas in a pod… if that pod had way too many peas and those peas were fighting to get out and were willing to do just about anything to do so. Look, I said we were close; that didn’t mean we didn’t always get along. But that’s where my sister came in. No matter what my mom and I or my dad and I would argue over she would always be able to talk us down and help us communicate. With her we could figure out the problem, fix it and kiss and make up. Now that she was gone, I (and I’m sure my parents as well) were worried that the family would fall apart. In a way it did but it also didn’t.

It's difficult to explain. We were distant for about 4 years but on the 5 year anniversary I got a text from my dad; the first one in 2 weeks and it was different from what I’d come to expect. ‘Come meet your mom and I this weekend at the house. We’re gonna have a little get together in remembrance of Sarah. I know this is kind of out of nowhere but your mom really wants this. I might be asking a lot but try to get your brother to come as well. I can’t get through to him. This is really important to your mom… and me if I’m being honest. I hope to see you two.’

I wasn’t sure how to respond so… I didn’t. Instead I called up my brother and asked him what he thought about the whole thing. He thought it was ridiculous. ‘She’s dead. There’s no reason in bringing it up again, especially after all this time. It's bullshit. I don’t wanna open up that wound again, man.’ I will admit that he had a point. 5 years seems like a long time in theory but people mourn differently. Jacob was clearly still hurting and as much as it pained me to, I pushed more and more for him to go. I hoped that seeing mom and dad again would be good for him… and I really didn’t want to go alone either. I managed to convince him to go, but he had to stay for at least one night. My parents wanted us for the entire weekend but we agreed to tell them he had something planned for work that he couldn’t miss.

Pulling up to my childhood home for the first time in years, and having it not be for Haunakah or a birthday was… strange. I never expected to feel anxious while walking in to see my parents but my heart was racing. Once I was in there though, and I hugged my mom and dad it felt right. I was hoping that when Jacob showed up he’d feel the same. My parents and I talked for an hour or so about how things were going with them, and how I was balancing school and a job. My mom went on a ten-minute tirade about how they fired her favorite bag boy, and right as dad was about to start going on about how there was a bad call on the ball game yesterday, Jacob’s voice rang out from the foyer.

We all hopped up to go say hi, my mom quickly was the first in line. As she hung around his neck, my dad went on about how happy he was to see him, and he couldn’t believe he’d actually made the trip. I think dad was talking to me as well but I was too focused on the woman standing behind my brother, just out of parent’s view. She had shoulder length brown hair, with dark, nearly black, brown eyes to match. She was incredibly pale, but smiling. I was so caught off guard, thinking my brother had brought along a girlfriend we’d known nothing about, but when I finally focused I noticed the massive gash in the woman’s forehead. No sooner than I did, it began pouring blood, covering her entire face like a mask.

“Eric?” my dad shook me, “Are you going to say hello to your brother?” I looked over at dad, then to Jacob and then past him to the doorway. The woman was gone. “You look like you’ve seen a damn ghost. You didn’t eat something bad did you?”

I barely noticed it but I was sweating now. I pulled in a breath, cleared my throat, and said, “Uh, no. I’m fine.” I pulled my brother in for a hug. “It’s good to see you man. Seriously.” The rest of the day went really well. There were some tears shed, of course, but a majority of our time was sharing fond memories of Sarah. She really was the glue that held us together most of the time and I’ll admit that it was nice to see the adhesive holding strong. We finished off the night with Sarah’s favorite movie and we all turned in around midnight. My brother and I shared our old room; the beds are still there from all those years ago. The only difference in the room now was that mom put a treadmill in the corner swearing she’d finally get in shape one day. A tale as old as time. Jacob was out within minutes but I found myself lying still, with my eyes wide open.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman I’d seen in the doorway. Not only was I the only one who saw her, she was terrifying. I was afraid I was beginning to see things like our grandmother used to. Schizophrenia was well known in our family, but it always skipped a generation and I was at the perfect age for symptoms to start showing. I must have laid there for an hour before deciding to get up and get some water. I wasn’t even really thirsty but needed a reason to get out of that dark room and away from the thoughts of my impending mental illness.

I clicked on the oven’s over-head light, grabbed a glass and started chugging. I say I wasn’t thirsty but the water felt so nice going down. It was like a shower for my insides; including my brain. I was able to convince myself I was overreacting and that if it was what I was thinking it was, this weekend wouldn’t have been the time to bring it up. Everything was going to be okay, I said. And I believed it. Until I made it back to the bedroom.

That woman was back, but this time I could see more of her. Despite the darkness her body almost glowed as she hovered over my brother. Her face was still covered in blood but when she looked over to me… I saw it. It was Sarah, or at least some vile, fucked up version of her. The gash in her forehead was now dripping with maggots, her jaw was slacked, and wiggled back and forth like she was an extra on The Walking Dead. She tried to say something to me but her tongue was blackened, and shriveled and only vibrated as she let out an ominous growl. I tried to take in the rest of her features but as my eyes followed her frail, pockmarked arms I saw them come to an end at Jacob’s throat.

I bolted over to him and as I did, the thing over him vanished and seconds later Jacob was on the floor clutching his throat, fighting for air. Once he stopped hyperventilating he just looked me in the eyes and started crying. I pulled him in close and truly hugged him for the first time in maybe five years. He explained to me the reason he didn’t want to come back.

“There’s something about the night Sarah died that I never told anyone. The night of her crash I was over at her house. I was dating one of her closest friends at the time and they wanted to hang out so I kind of invited myself over, and while they threw a fit over it at first, once we were all together it was really nice. We all cooked dinner together while Sarah and I tried to outdo each other on who could tell the most embarrassing story about the other one. It was a fun, and silly time. And then Sarah brought out a bottle of wine for us to have while we ate dinner. I tried to decline, lying and saying that I had work in the morning, but she insisted saying that one glass wouldn’t hurt. Also, my office was only a 15 min drive from her so if I needed to, I could crash there and leave early enough to make it home and get ready.” He had stopped crying by this point but his voice was still barely above a whisper.

“Sarah got really drunk that night. It was to a point where she was becoming increasingly aggressive to me and my girlfriend. She always got that way when she drank which is why I was so against it in the first place. We ended up getting into a shouting match after she pushed my girlfriend hard enough to knock her on her ass. The argument ended with her telling me she needed some air, and heading outside.” Tears started rolling down his cheeks again. “By the time I looked at the hooks by the door she was already out of the driveway and headed off down the road.” He was near sobbing at this point.

“You know how that road to her house was, man. You could barely go over 30 without being at risk of running off the road. By the time I got out there… She…” He couldn't finish the sentence but I knew what he was going to say. He was the one who found her, called it in and got questioned for hours over it. They even had the audacity to charge him with a DUI, despite the fact the whole reason he was out there was to try and find Sarah.

I pulled him close again. “This isn’t your fault, man. You have to let it go.”

He pulled away and said, “No. You do.” I was confused at first; why would he be telling me to get over it? But when I looked back at him I saw he wasn’t talking to me. Sarah was standing right next to us, her face still caked in blood. “You have to understand this wasn’t my fault Sarah. I tried to save you before, but you were too far down the road. It was too late. This is your fault, not mine! Let me go!” He yelled that last part and stood up to her, towering above her as he always had. Staring her straight in the eye he whispered again, “Let me go, so I can let you go.”

If I wouldn’t have seen it myself I would have called Jacob crazy… Sarah changed at that moment. Her face cleared up, the blood slowly faded to reveal a pallor like I’d only seen at the funeral. Her clothes changed to those she wore when in the casket and for the first time since I’d last seen her, the real her, she smiled. She mouthed the words, ‘I’m sorry’ before vanishing the moment my parent’s opened the door. They’d heard Jacob yell and were worried someone had broken in but when they checked downstairs and saw no one they came to check on us. They were confused as to why we were both sitting there, crying in our pajamas and I didn’t have the guts to tell them. Jacob, though… Jacob just said, “I have something to tell you guys.”

Jacob relayed the story to them, the same way he did to me. It was a lethargic feeling for him, I’m sure, and while my parents were incredibly heartbroken, they assured him that he wasn’t to blame and they weren’t angry with him. The rest of the time we spent together felt like the most intimate time I’ve ever had with family. There was no longer that looming anxiety and I think it was because Sarah, and Jacob, had finally said what they wanted for years.

STORY 3

I Finally Saw What was Calling My Name

Maybe I’m alone in this, but growing up I often heard the voice of someone I knew calling out my name when that person wasn’t around. It started when I was 5 or six years old; I was sitting in my room playing Spyro on my Playstation when I heard my aunt call out, “Dusty!” Now, at first I did what every kid did. I just yelled back. But when she didn’t respond I got a little worried. My aunt was an older lady, around her mid-fifties at the time, and while she wasn’t prone to falling or things like that I was still protective of her. So, I paused my game, hopped off the bed and took off into the living room.

When I saw she wasn’t there, I checked the kitchen… then her bedroom and finally, outside in the carport. She wasn’t in the house. As a matter of fact, by the time I went back outside to check I saw her coming across the yard from her workshop, heading to the house. I met her halfway and said, “What did you need?” She looked confused so I explained that I’d heard her call for me just a few minutes ago when I was in the house. She assured me that she hadn’t left her shop since she got there around 9 that morning; it was somewhere near 12 when I heard her call my name. As a kid I didn’t know what to make of it, and I didn’t want to push it any further so I tried my best to forget about it and for the most part I did. Until it happened the second time.

I was much older this time; somewhere in my mid-teens. It was a weekend and my parents were out playing cards, my older brother was at a friend's house, and my oldest brother was home with me as a ‘babysitter’. In reality he was in his bedroom watching TV and I was in mine, doing the same. It was nearly midnight so I decided to call it a night. I was woken up when I heard my mom call out my name, just like my aunt did all those years ago. “Dusty!” It didn’t sound urgent, she didn’t sound worried; it seemed like she just wanted my attention. My first thought was that they’d picked up McDonald’s for us as a little treat but when I checked my computer I saw it was 3 in the morning.

I didn’t have school the next day, but even then I knew my parents wouldn't have woken me up that late. Confused, I went out to the living room and found my oldest brother playing Metal Gear Solid… alone. I checked my parent’s bedroom and it was empty. A quick look outside and I saw that the car was still gone too. “Where’s mom and dad?”

Robert looked at me confused. “They’re still not home.” I just nodded, and went back to my room to lie down. I knew it was strange to hear someone who wasn’t there but now that there was someone else there and they didn’t hear it… It made it much worse. I was worried I was losing my mind; like life was playing a cruel trick on me. Luckily, it didn’t happen again for quite a while.

I was 24 and had just woken up around 3 pm. I know that sounds like a terrible time for someone to wake up but I was working nights at the time and had just gotten home 4 hours ago. I was lying in bed, scrolling through social media when I heard the apartment door open. This wasn’t surprising to me as my partner was supposed to be getting home around this time from their classes. Still not ready to get up I called out, “Welcome home, babe! How were your classes?” A few minutes passed and I noticed that, not only had they not responded to my question, but I hadn’t heard them put down their bag; not even so much as the keys jingling. I called out again, “Babe? Are you there?”

Finally I caved and stepped out of the bedroom into the living room. From where I was standing I could see straight into the kitchen and what I saw was… disturbing to say the least. At first I thought it was an older woman who maybe went into the wrong apartment, but the longer I looked at this… thing I knew it wasn’t a person but rather something pretending to be. The head lacked any hair aside from a few strands poking out the sides, and there were dark brown spots littering its head. It was completely naked, and its skin looked as if you draped a wet sheet over a skeleton. The skin itself was gray, and incredibly dry; when it moved (which it did in very jerky, and twitched motions) flakes would fall from it and land on the floor.

The thing finally twitched its head to me, and I saw the thing that had been calling out to me for the first time. Its mouth hung low, and the lips were just as flaky and chapped as the rest of its skin; they were even bleeding in some spots. It had no nose; it was just flat where there would be one and the eyes… They were more like deep pits of tar. Despite the richness of the black, they didn’t reflect the fluorescent light above. They seemed to just absorb it completely. The thing's mouth started opening and closing, and I could hear the faintest noise coming from its throat. Finally, it spoke. “Classes were great, babe!”

It was my partner's voice; a perfect impersonation by that… thing. I don’t know what came over me in that moment, whether it was fear or anger, or a sick combination of both but I rushed the creature with all my might, fully intent on ending its putrid existence. I expected it to run, to maybe attack me in retaliation but no; it just sat there, cowering under me as I choked the life out of it.

I don’t remember much of what happened after that. They say I was found, passed out on the floor after a neighbor had called the police to report a ‘domestic disturbance’. Yeah, well they want to believe a lot of things. They want to believe that it was all in my head and I killed my partner. But I know the truth, and I know that thing I saw that day is behind it. I’ll get out of here on good behavior one day, and then I can start my search for answers; answers they don’t want me to have. There’s something out there. We’re all blind, or perhaps, deaf to it.