I loved writing horror stories…But i stopped writing them a few days after I found an old rusty pen amongst my collection.I loved the way the ink emanated placidly, leaving no blotches on the paper.
It all happened when i began working on my third story with my new pen…. It was about this man, home alone and murdered on a rainy night. The assailant was viscious and clumsy. I just loved my characters. This was my third creation. A Piper.
My lights went out as rain poured down my roof..I felt weird.I felt as if what i was writing was really happening.. A weird mixture of de-ja-vu and fear.
I was uncomfortable, so i went to sleep.
I heard a flute being played and jerked awake. Someone was sitting on my chest. I could tell he was smiling cause his teeth shone in the dark. I switched on my phone…
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