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Posts Tagged ‘horror story’

This story is based LOOSELY on a true story (you can ask how). I almost didn’t post this, because you guys probably didn’t know my mind got this dark. I used to wonder how Stephen King could seem to be such a normal guy and write such disturbing stuff. And then I realized, maybe it’s the normal people who write it instead of DO IT. LOL. Anyway, I’m going to take a chance and hope I don’t scare anyone off. And I want to apologize to my sweet husband. No, I don’t secretly wish him ill. He’s the love of my life. Folks, this is just a STORY!

The Morning Glory

It was a morning in early fall when I first saw it. There, entangled in the rose bush beside the garage, was a morning glory. I knew I should dig it up. It could choke the life out of my rose bush, and this one was one of my favorites. But, for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The flowers were lovely, the trumpet-shaped blooms a deep blue, the vine so delicate. Surely, this little thing couldn’t hurt my rose bush. Besides, the rose bush was just about finished with its last blooming cycle.

I went back into the house, going about my usual business, the thought of flowers leaving my mind as I worked on my chores. It was a Saturday, and I was hoping to get a lot accomplished. Soon, the house was clean and neat, and I felt like taking a walk outside after all I’d accomplished.

I walked around my rose bushes, deadheading the old buds. When I came to the rose bush where I had found the morning glory earlier, I frowned. The tendrils had snuck into the garage. I had to leave the garage door open all the time since the door would no longer open and close, so there was no way to really keep anything out. I stooped down and touched the tiny flower that was forming on the end of the vine. I felt an affinity with it, some deep empathy I didn’t understand. I knew I should get rid of it, especially since it was invading my garage, but I just couldn’t.

The next day, when my husband and I got ready to leave for church, I noticed the morning glory had made its way farther into the garage and wound its way around a rake handle. He looked at it and frowned.

“Is that a morning glory?” he asked. “I need to get rid of it when we get back from church.”

“No!” I shouted, surprising us both.

“It’s invading the garage,” he said.

“But it’s pretty. Let’s just leave it, okay?”

He shook his head, but when we came back later, he didn’t bother the little vine. I went outside later that afternoon, and the plant had wrapped itself around the tines of the rake and then trailed along the wall to the mattock, wrapping itself around the handle and the business end. I smiled.

The next morning, as I was getting ready for work, my husband said, “Have you seen how far that morning glory has gotten into the garage? I’m digging it up today.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I’m going to. Stop acting weird about it.”

A strange calm came over me as I left for work. All day, I thought of the beautiful morning glory. I knew my husband wouldn’t dig it up. When he saw how glorious it was, he would have to leave it alone.

I started to pull the car into the garage that evening, but I saw something that made me slam on my brakes and jump out. There, lying in a pool of blood, was my husband. The tines of a rake were embedded in his stomach, and the mattock was lodged in his throat. I glanced at the morning glory where it had wrapped itself around the shelving unit high up on the wall. It looked like it was hiding.

“Come on down now, it’s okay,” I said.

The morning glory slid down the wall and wrapped itself around me in an affectionate hug. I said, “I’m sorry you had to see this. It was a horrible, horrible accident. I guess it’s just you and me now.”

The vine tightened around my waist and neck as the delicate flower on the end caressed my cheek. I turned my lips toward it for a kiss.

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I expected to have the first draft of my WIP finished last night. I really did. But life got in the way. I did more housework than usual because I’ve been feeling bad about not doing much. Especially since this was one of my goals. Then my husband wanted to watch some things we had on the DVR since it’s piling up. Also, my mom needed me to take her somewhere and bring her back because she doesn’t see well enough to drive at night in unfamiliar places. Oh, and then my husband announced that he had rented a movie we needed to watch last night. Scorpion King 3. It wasn’t worth it. So I didn’t get that first draft finished. It’s almost there. It has turned out a little differently than I originally intended. It was going to be more of a slasher horror story with an element of supernatural. It’s ending up being a supernatural story with an element of slasher. If that makes sense. I’m pretty sure it still needs to be labeled as horror, though. Maybe supernatural horror as a sub-genre. I’ll talk that over with the beta readers.

Right now it’s 20 degrees here with a wind chill factor of 13. I knew that warm spell we had was a harbinger of colder things to come! Brrrr. It’s going to be cold going to church this morning.

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I have no idea why I’m writing a horror book. It’s one of my favorite genres to read, but I’ve never written anything but paranormal and fantasy romance. And there’s a little bit of romance in this book, but that’s not the main focus. My reading is so eclectic that I know I can’t write in EVERY genre I read. But horror has always been fascinating to me. So I thought I would give it a try. And I’ll have to say that this is the hardest thing I’ve ever written. I can’t tell if the violent scenes are interesting or not. Am I going into too much detail…not enough….? Are the scenes too long…too short….? The only way to know if this book is going to work is to set it down a week or so after it’s finished, then read it again as a reader. And then there are the beta readers. I’m really, really scared about sending this one out. What if my betas say this is trash? But what if it’s good? When I wrote Haunted Lake, I was able to get that spooky feeling that allowed me to write something a little dark. There was a little bit of mild horror in that book. Not anything really scary, although it would have been if it happened in real life. But the book I’m writing now has slasher type violence in it. I know I’m rambling, but I’m really, really worried about this book. I think this will be the last time I try horror. Maybe.

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