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Please be mine

by Melissa Ingoldsby about a month ago in Horror
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PJ Harvey

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window."

I hear your sultry voice glistening my vision, you whisper

About a cabin.

Your shimmery locks

Your crying voice

Sink into my body.

PJ, please be mine.

“The old man rambled on and on about that same old cabin in the woods sort of campfire tale, telling the story with gusto and an overzealous tone. He loved to tell stories. And he believed everyone loved to listen to them.”

She continues.

Then she sings of the worst betrayal,

Hitting her bodies like so many stones,

Melding into your eyes, mouth, brain

Like someone placed it there so it

Will be one with you.

Like the stones were just you, all along.

I hear your wishful feelings in your cries, PJ,







Please be mine.

“The man just kept on rambling, the people listening to the horror tale late into the night with a barely concealed boredom. The once roaring campfire crackled, barely lighting the dark black sky. No stars. The moon is hiding behind the tall trees.”

I hear you. I hear you, my darling.

My beautiful PJ.

You whisper to me late at night.

I’m not lonely/I’m still hurting.

“The people started yawning, all his colleagues and friends and family. They said, ‘We’re very tired. This old story of a haunted cabin just has been heard enough times. We must go to sleep,’ but the old man was very persuasive and everyone stayed to listen.”

Can you predict the end? She asks me after a dramatic pause.

I hold her. Kiss her milky neck, she smells like cream and butter and fresh mint.

I don’t want to guess. I want to just stay here and be yours forever, until forever is over and a new forever begins.

Oh, PJ; please

By Andrea Cassani on Unsplash



“Everyone was falling asleep, but the old man talked so loud everyone woke up. He said that once the cabin had been used as slave house and the only way a young girl could communicate to her husband who was sold to a neighboring estate, was by how many candles were lit. That’s why when you visit it now and see a lit candle… that’s the young girl trying to find her long lost husband. And everyone sighed. They were very tired of this sort of tale.”

Oh PJ; my mouth is greedy with the taste of you.

Fill me, end me, I’ll be your doom.


Not some lonesome cowboy,

I’m yours, I’m yours

as you are singing in my room.

I see the candle,

You lit it with your voice,

I’m here to see us bloom.

“The moonbeam of her aura caught up in the earth’s atmosphere and trickled into each and every person’s pores, and inside, it created a vacuum in time. That way, everyone would look different, but inside, the same. The young girl hoped she had her husband would reunite one day. Then, she died of fever. He died soon after. Heartbroken. The old man finished, but the end wasn’t quite there yet.” She paused and belted out a conversation of yearning and pain, “The old man cackled and thunder was heard nearby. Everyone jumped, the fire went out. A friend got up and said they are leaving. But, when they tried to leave the campfire, they found that for some inexplicable reason, they could not step foot away from the burnt out flames.”

She whimpered in the dark night,

Explaining the fate of the campfire group.

Like a ghost that had weight and touch

Her voice filled me with dreams that were like grey stones

Hitting and tumbling and smooth and intense

Melding into my mouth and ears like honey.

“You see, you all rushed my ending, and it hasn’t gotten to the



Her eyes lit up like a demon.

Teeth like fangs.

“You see, you used to be the family that owned me. I was that slave woman, trapped in that cabin.”

She looked at me and cried.

“You shut up my heart, buried my body inside. You snuffed out my candle. You took away my human rights.”



PJ, don’t go.

“Now you’re all stuck here with me, forever hearing this tired tale. No warm fire. Just my story. I’ll start over. No one moved. Not even budged. They were as pale as a newly dead ghost. But breathing. No protests. Just open ears. Bleeding ears.”

Then she kissed my ear.

It didn’t bleed.

I wanna hear our never ending story, I said.

Ok, she replied. Here’s one I know.

I looked down on my window at the unlit candle. It’s dead, like me.

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window."


About the author

Melissa Ingoldsby

I write short stories and poetry. I hope you find yourself in between the spaces of my words.

Reader insights


Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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Comments (1)

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  • Dharrsheena Raja Segarranabout a month ago

    Whoaaa I loved your take on this challenge. It was fantastic!

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