The Novella Life of Illuscia Nester Himawari

Perhaps you have heard the legend of the supposed “holy hour” that occurs on certain days of the year: Christmas, Easter, Good Friday, November 1, and the first of both February and August, each day between 7 and 8 am (not including Daylight Savings Time, mind you, because it is a human invention and supernatural entities do not observe it). When you were a kid, this was the hour in which you probably opened Christmas presents and started tearing apart your Easter basket after dragging your parents out of bed, and much to your parents’ chagrin refused to eat anything but leftover Halloween candy from the day before for breakfast; however, more than likely you had never gone into a darkened room in preparation for this ritual. However, perhaps you’ve heard others speak of it. Go into a room with a mirror, preferably one without windows, between 7 and 8 am on any one of the dates listed above. You do not have to perform this ritual alone; if you have any friends, you may in fact want the

This is my last will…I’m recording this now. I don’t have much time left. Well…not so much of a will, really. Everyone I know is dead, missing of seconds away from death. I don’t know how it went so wrong. It was supposed to be something that would grant me eternal wealth, riches and longevity. Something that I heard was supposed to be how Caesar rose to power. Me being the idealistic man that I am, I decided to try it. The information was scattered far and wide. On top of Mount Everest, inside the 5001st paving stone on the Great Wall – everywhere imaginable. Everything fit together precisely and beautifully. This is how it works. Go into the “slums” of your city and wait for midnight to strike. You must bring along three items – a coin that was made on the year of your birth, an object that holds music – like a CD, a tape or an MP3 player and the left eye from a two-week-old puppy. Stand on any street and wait exactly five minutes. If you did it correctly, there will be the sound of

In the hills surrounding the town of Bodega Bay in California, there is a tree, sitting right in the crook of two hills. Scattered 10 paces around it are 7 different fresh-water springs. It is said that one of them cures any disease, another grants immortal life, 4 will kill you instantly and cause your body to dissolve into powder. But the last spring is special. If you bottle water from this one and take it to a small cave hidden in the hills north of the tree, you will find a single large stone at the back of the cave. If you then splash the water on the stone, it will dissolve, leaving you a baseball-sized red stone. As long as you have this stone in your possession, you will always be in the right place at the right time. If you pour water from any of the other 6 springs on the rock, the cave will seal up, and you will be lost forever under the earth.

On the last day of every month, close the blinds or curtains before you sleep. If in the middle of the night, you hear a tapping noise at your window, don’t open your eyes. If you’re one of the unlucky ones, you’ll hear that pebble sound at your window. It’s not a friend; just keep your eyes shut. The sound will get louder, the tapping will get faster and faster. Don’t let your curiosity get the better of you; don’t move. It’ll lose its patience, it’ll start thumping the window. Your window will shake and shudder and the noises will only get louder. It will furiously pound the window and shake the panes; don’t worry, the window won’t break but for goodness’ sake, DON’T OPEN YOUR EYES. No matter how scared you are, no matter how badly you want to scream, pretend like you don’t hear, pretend you’re still asleep. After a while, the noises will stop. Don’t fall for it, keep your eyes shut. Try to sleep if you can. Don’t get up, don’t open your eyes, until the sun comes up. Those who do ope

In 1983, a team of deeply pious scientists conducted a radical experiment in an undisclosed facility. The scientists had theorized that a human without access to any senses or ways to perceive stimuli would be able to perceive the presence of God. They believed that the five senses clouded our awareness of eternity, and without them, a human could actually establish contact with God by thought. An elderly man who claimed to have “nothing to left to live for” was the only test subject to volunteer. To purge him of all his senses, the scientists performed a complex operation in which every sensory nerve connection to the brain was surgically severed. Although the test subject retained full muscular function, he could not see, hear, taste, smell, or feel. With no possible way to communicate with or even sense the outside world, he was alone with his thoughts. Scientists monitored him as he spoke aloud about his state of mind in jumbled, slurred sentences that he couldn’t eve

I used to use the computer a lot. I would stay up late just surfing the web, playing games I’d beaten long ago. I guess it became an obsession. It got so bad that I would stay up till midnight just doing nothing. I tried to stop. Sometimes I could manage to go to sleep early, but lately I’ve never been in bed before eleven. It’s weird, I never feel like this during the day. I can handle not being on the computer in the morning. I get lots of stuff done; cleaning up, studying, pretty much being a productive person. But now things have gotten worse. I started feeling really bad after going to sleep. It would hit me while I was on the computer that my eyes were really burning. Only when they started tearing up would my gaze be broken from the screen and realize I hadn’t been blinking. Weirder things started happening when I blinked too. It started out harmless. Web pages would load real slowly. My mouse would freeze. Programs would start ending randomly. Nothing actually out of the ordina

Have you ever wondered about what happens when you die? Well, something does. Your body dies, but your conscience lives on. The night you die, you will be in an eternal dream. You will live that dream for all eternity, and it will be like reality. Whatever you dreamed that last night will be what you are going to be “living” in for eternity, and you will never wake up again, in the comfort of your house. Let’s hope you don’t have a nightmare that last night.

My lilies are my most prized possession. Hand picked. I will only take the most supremely beautiful specimens. They must be white as an angel’s wings, and so soft and delicate to the touch that you must be careful of the harm you bring to them. Perhaps it is selfish of me to hoard them as I do. But as it is I who takes them first, it is I who shall enjoy them, their sweet, intoxicating scent and their soothing elegance. To listen to the lily’s voice is to hear the sound of unrestrained magnificence, fine tuned to stir the soul into a passionate uproar. It is for this reason that I keep my lilies, one dozen at a time, at all times. I must hear the cry of my recherché beauties, bear witness to their bleeding, revel in the need they have for me. At first, even I, pious as I am, questioned this desire, but finding the answer proved such a splendor in its own rite. It is seeing my lilies weakened into such a state that I am all they have left, as they are all I have left, that I derive a sa

I’m trapped in a nightmare. It’s dark all around me. Even though there’s a lamp shining next to me, I’m still suffocating in the complete darkness. I’ve never felt so isolated in my life, yet I know… I know that I’m not alone. Outside, the sun is high in the sky. It’s taunting me. Mocking me. I see it shining in the heavens, but somehow it’s still dark here. I can see so very little, no more than five feet in front of me. It’s as much of a curse as it is a blessing. Lights glow, but don’t illuminate anything. I can just barely discern the movement of something traveling on four legs from my peripheral vision. I don’t know where to run. No sense of location is left in me. I’m utterly lost. A feeling of complete helplessness engulfs me. I wish I’d never woken up this wretched morning. Trapped in oblivion. It’s repeated over and over in my head. I hear claws scrape against the pavement not far away. I’ve been wandering outside for god only knows how long now, practically welcoming my deat

You awaken with a high pitched ringing in your ears. Gradually, the sound becomes softer, like the humming from your refrigerator, and eventually, it stops completely. Even after a peaceful night’s rest, your eyes are not ready to open. Your instincts urge you to KEEP THEM CLOSED, but you find no reason not to open them. The florescent lights blind you as your eyes are adjusting to the brightness. You are in a perfectly square, white room with one door. One door. There is nothing strange about the door, yet you find it strange how the door seems so ordinary. You are now sitting up in your own bed, in an unfamiliar room. You are not surprised. You don’t know why. But you are not surprised. Your gut is telling you to go back to sleep, telling you not to be so curious, telling you not to….. too late. You notice an elderly man, possibly in his late 70's, sitting in the corner of the room. He is wearing a cheap brown suit and a pair of sunglasses. There are several pieces of cardboard s

It’s a cool, calm night. You worked hard that day, and you feel ready for a good night’s sleep. You climb into your bed and turn off the light. You notice that, considering you live alone, it’s unusually quiet tonight. Ever since the death of your next-door neighbor, the loud rap music woke you up in the middle of the night no more. The police were quite reliable in these parts, but you can’t help but feel a little disturbed that, for all the blood that was spilled and mess that was caused, the investigators still don’t seem to have a lead. You tell yourself not to worry, the community is on their toes, no sensible killer would go sneaking around this town. You lay down and close your eyes. As you drift off into sleep, a clear view of the front of your house floats into your vision, lights off except for the television in the downstairs window that you must have forgotten to turn off. You sit up. What kind of dream was that? No, it was more vivid, more distinct than a dream. Strange. O

It’s a simple enough thing. It’s all a part of the body’s sleep processes. Sleep Paralysis, right? No big deal, really. Your body produces a chemical that paralyzes your body during R.E.M sleep to prevent you from hurting yourself by thrashing about during your dreams. No big deal. Okay, so, you opened your eyes and you can’t move your body. It’s the chemicals. Oh, you can keep trying to wriggle those toes, but it’s not happening. Forget it. Just relax. It’ll go away. It’s fine. It’s normal. Oh, now there’s something pressing on your chest, real hard, it’s making it hard to breath. It’s heavy, so very heavy, whatever’s on your chest. Chemicals. It’s all chemicals. Stop trying to scream, it won’t work. Your throat muscles are paralyzed too. You still can’t breath. You are staring at a blank ceiling, you can’t stare anywhere else. Shadows flit across your vision, forming shapes you try not to think about. A clawed hand, a flash of jagged, shadowy teeth. All images from your subconscious.

A recent study by the National Psychiatric Institute in Boston, MA, concluded that no activity can account for the phenomenon known as nightmares. Whereas many dreams come from unconscious desires, most nightmares seem to come from an outside source independent of the individual. In fact, when subjects are asked to recall nightmares they are almost always found in the same memory section as actual physical memories, not the section where normal dreams are replayed. In other words, those aliens and creatures you see at night in your “dreams?” They’re real.

“Those used to be green!” the man said aloud, staring at the plants on the sill. “I swear! They were green just yesterday!” he shouted to his wife, who was reading a book across the room. He looked around. His eyes were unable to focus clearly for a moment, so he rubbed them. Looking around, he shouted again, “The walls! They used to be blue! We painted them blue just last month! Why aren’t they blue?” He was unable to control himself anymore. His wife looked over at him, surprised to see him in such a fervent uproar. “Honey! Relax! You’ve just had a long day!” she affirmed. He wouldn’t have any of it though. “Don’t tell me what I’ve had or haven’t had!” he commanded as he stormed out of the room. Figuring her husband had possibly been drinking, the woman tried to continue reading her book. But her concentration was continually broken by the yells of her husband. “This used to be orange!” she could hear him yell in the other room. “These used to be brown!” he yelled again. Several minu

I’d had them ever since I was a kid. I can remember being incredibly self-conscious about them, hiding them in my pockets under books and bags. The kids at school never said anything to my face, but I knew they were laughing behind my back. I remember asking my parents to take me to the doctor, to get them checked out. The growths on my hands seemed to be the elephant in the room back then, since they’d just say I was fine and change the subject. But I knew better. I had tried to remove them as a child, but without avail. Scissors, knives, potato peelers; trying to cut or scrape them off was always a lost cause because I couldn’t continue once the pain kicked in. But today was different. It’s amazing how numb you can get with a couple of tourniquettes and a bottle of Jack Daniels. I was originally planning to use a sharp knife, but figured that trying to slice through the tough flesh of the growths would be too arduous in my drunken state. I opted for the slightly more technological pl

I live in a small apartment by myself, on the fifth floor. One night, a while back, I heard strange noises coming from down the hall. They weren’t shouts and they weren’t banging noises and they weren’t people fucking. They were weird. They sounded like gurgling. Loud gurgling. Normally I don’t give a damn about what goes on in the rooms around me; my stance changes when whatever is going on pisses me off. These gurgling noises were doing just that. So, I left my apartment and headed towards the door at the end of the hallway, which seemed to be the source of the sound. I banged on the door and shouted at whoever happened to be in there to shut the hell up. I stayed in front of the door for a little while to see if the noises would stop. They didn’t. I banged again and shouted again. I heard a door open behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I knew it was some other stupid tenant who was pissed at me for shouting. Well, I was pissed at the gurgling noises. ENTER I kept banging and bangin

Welcome, welcome, one and all to my labyrinth collection of stories, novellas, mini series, poems, poetry and prose I have collected during my years of online reading We have mainly stories of creepy pastas and scary tales to keep you up at night, but we also have heartwarming, tear-jerking and fantastical stories for your reading pleasure. Enjoy your journey through my labyrinth collection, and for those who read my collection of scary tales, don't say that you haven't been warned. Disclaimer: I do not own the stories that have been posted in here. All of them are credited to their respective writers. I am just an avid collector of stories, especially those that go bump in the night