For all book lovers. What do you think of my writing?
Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.

Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.

Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.

Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.

Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.
Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.
Chapter 3

The man with the red scar at his face was called Ivan. Twenty years ago, he used to live with his father in the same shack where he lives no

Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.

Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.

Chapter one.

The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.

She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.

After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.

After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”

A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.

“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”

After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.

“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”

“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”

“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.

Chapter 2

The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.

Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.

He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.

Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.

The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”

“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”

Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s ok. Just calm down.”

“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”

He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”

“You’re mad…”

“That’s why I survive…”

Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.

And say you had a few audio experiences like hearing bar-stools or chairs move/drag sound 2 feet behind you, footsteps (not pipe pressure) in front of you pacing and felt something tug on your ponytail.

Going into this house you NEVER knew it was supposedly haunted. Would you consider the possibly that is something paranormal going on.
There is no pranks or drinking going on.

_______________
I l l
l BR _ l l Bath
l________l l____l
l K l
l l
l l
l l
l l
l LR l
l_______________l
l l
l BR l
l______________ l
I was trying to show the set the up of the house do you to show that you would know if someone was in the home or not. But it did not seem to work, the lines at the left changed when I hit submit.
I meant right.
How did this end up in the Dating section?

My mom hears sounds like footsteps in the kitchen,add-on,and bathroom.There also a shadow moving in the living room and then a 2nd moving in the hallway.The spot where my grandpa died is the spot where when she sometimes walked by and smells his cologne very strong like it has been sprayed just then.When she walks out of the spot of his death, its gone, but if she goes back to the spot its strong,you cant smell it a few feet away.This has happened twice. there are also sounds like whispering and footsteps and furniture moving.

EMBARRASING CONFESSION

Being the other side of the world now I tell the reverend sitting next to me in the ball room that… “my friend” attends university in a far off place called Fulham along with every other red-blooded male in the area and was plagued by the same fear. All the scarf and chino wearing young men act big and with bravado as they walk the streets with their perfect skin and chiselled jaws but they all harbour a cowering child inside. They all fear the day that as they cross the Eel Brook common after a late night on the drink they will run in with a Mr Bungle.
The rumour goes that Mr Bungle was released from an insanitorium five years ago having been sent there for trying to perform experimental surgical operations on homeless children from the Northern Quarter, and sometimes succeeding. On being released he failed to attend any of his required check-ins and was discovered to no longer be living in his crooked old house by the river. Now he skulks through the shadows of the un-lamp-lit common hoping to add to his twisted collection. His un-holy new collection. This was the rumour.

∼
“My friend” was out all night at one of the many ornate pubs that surround the common and decided, like many other young men before him, to risk the walk through the dark paths so he would get back to his hall of residence a little bit sooner and be able to do disgusting things to his do-what-he-say girlfriend for a little bit longer.
As he stumbled forward through the oily night batting his hands ahead of himself to check for obstacles he heard slipper-wearing footsteps pid-padding nearby. Aware of his newfound company he decided to pick up the pace. If this person walking out there in the darkness were indeed the man of whom his father had sternly warned him, and no others would talk of, then surely there would be no problem out pacing him. This friend of mine was definitely the strongest and most athletic of all the other students. So he began to jog and appeared to loose his assailant and as he began to see the beginnings of glow from street lamps on the other side of the park he tripped on a devious ankle-high rope. He fell forwards to the ground as a man leant over him and began forcing a rag down his throat. It was soaked in some strange alcohol in aniseed, probably from some far off country that no one has discovered yet. It made my friends head spin and so he disappeared off into his own world, filled with pubs and scarfs. Mr Bungle got to work.
When my friend woke he was being dragged arms first by two horrified male students who were half ill inside due to what they were seeing and half ill inside because they knew their chinos were wrecked for sure. As my friend was pulled along he looked up at the now blue cumulous clouded sky as small flocks of birds circled. He then looked down at himself. The lower half of his body was completely bare and being towed along the harsh gravel ground, getting dirtied and scratched. Then like a shovel to the eyes he saw that between his legs and cut up into his body lay nothing but a gaping black-red V trailing its own little tendrils and fluids. My friend screamed and birds flying up in the heavens heard. Students around the town shut their windows and lost themselves in books.

I can see the reverend shifting uncomfortably in his stool. Don’t worry I know all this because my friend wrote to me see, I say. My friend wrote to me as he has had enough. He wants this business of Mr Bungle over and done with, he wants him found and executed. A man with no penis will have a sudden shift in priorities with no girls interesting him anymore and because of this my friend has all the time in the world to track down Mr Bungle see.

What I am saying is that he is worried what will happen when he finds Mr Bungle.

You mean you’re worried what will happen when you find Mr Bungle right? Says the reverend nervously.

What? No. What I am saying is that I know Mr Bungle in fact lived in a nice old building on the edge of town not a crooked river house. Inside it is smart and orderly with nice rugs and furniture and on the top floor at the end of the long corridor is his room which is all pristine except the shelf on one wall on top of which sit twenty-four severed male packages all wilting and dallying in every which direction. Sitting below the shelf is a desk, well I might as well say it. My desk. Where I read “my friend’s” letter and nearly laughed my balls off remembering how bad this guy used to bully me.