Murky Waters~

I’m so late in sharing, but hey, it’s Friday the 13th— the perfect day to read a creepy story. So read my story, “Murky Waters,” which author, Latashia Figueroa, was so kind as to share on her blog for Halloween.

Latashia Figueroa - Author

Here’s another creepy short by a young talented writer. Enjoy!

murky waterpic


Uncle Macon had been dead a year when Aunt Bessie saw bodies rise from Burgaw Creek. Her ankles rolled as she turned to run, and she fainted behind the house. Bedsheets clipped to the clothesline sailed in the wind gusts, sheltered her from the drizzling rain.

Mama and I drove three hours to Burgaw to check on her. When we arrived, the toilet was backed-up, the water shut off.

“We had a really bad storm come through last night. You know Burgaw Creek floods every time it rains,” Aunt Bessie said. I squirmed in my chair at the kitchen table, squeezing my inner thighs together as warm urine bled through my jeans.

“How have you been using the bathroom?” Mama asked.

“I been makin’ do,” Aunt Bessie said, which meant she hadn’t been flushing. Two days of Aunt…

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Haunted Cemetery

Byron lifted his shirt, bent forward under the kitchen light, revealed three lines of raw, inflamed skin on his back.

“Who scratched you?” Shannon asked.

“Not who. What.” Byron tucked his shirt into his faded denim jeans, winced as the fabric grazed his wounds.

“But we were only gone a minute. Are you sure you didn’t—” Harold started.

“I know what I saw.”

“You saw a shadow,” Shannon said.

“It growled.”

“An animal?” Harold said.

The cabinet behind them swung open. A glass salt shaker flew from the shelf and shattered on the floor.

“I think it followed us.”

word count: 100


jhc5Today is Veteran’s Day, but alas, I decided to go in a different direction with this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt (courtesy of J Hardy Carroll). I like to do the opposite of what’s expected of me. Besides, this Friday is Friday the 13th! 😉

Prom Night

“After he raped her, she hung herself on that tree,” Brian pointed to a tree looming over the creek bridge. “The limb snapped under her dead weight. They found her in the water the next morning.”

“Where’d she get the rope?” Roxanne asked.

“She tore off the hem of her dress.”

“Why does every small town have a prom night ghost story?” Jake asked.

“Parents’ twisted scheme to keep their kids from having sex,” Roxanne said.

A sharp shrill came from the tree stump behind them. “If it’s made up, then who’s screaming?” Brian asked. “We’re the only ones here.”

word count: 100


This is my Friday the 13th themed Friday Fictioneers. Write a story in 100 words using the provided photo prompt as inspiration. Click the froggy icon to read other stories and add your own.

© Sandra Crook