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Long term stories Short Stories Weird-Crazy-Perhaps Scary Writing and Poetry

Haunted Town- Journal Entry 4- He Had The Drink…

“Sure! I could use a drink. It’s been a hell of a night.” John didn’t hesitate to grab the shot glass of whiskey. He swallowed the drink whole and slammed down the glass.

“I don’t think that was a good idea professor. You need to keep a clear head.”

“Do you want another drink?” Vince asked.

“Nah, one is good for now. Thank you kindly for your generosity! I deeply appreciate it.” John seemed to feel a sense of relief after having the drink.

FYI I switched to texting so no one can hear me.

“So I beg to ask the question, where is your phone?” I asked in an anxious tone. I couldn’t help myself. I started to feel this heaviness in the room, like as if we were being watched by someone, but more like something.

“Your phone doesn’t work, young man?”

“I have no service.”

“Ah! I have no idea how technology works. We do have a phone, but the line is a bit shaky. These old wires don’t work like how they used to.”

“Hey, we’re going to have a look around!” Angela’s voice echoed in the entire bar.

They looked among the loose leaf papers, newspapers, flyers, and photographs. I couldn’t quite overhear their conversations, but what I did know was that I was desperate to get to that phone. John and Vince continued to talk as I walked off towards the phone. I could vaguely overhear something about a ‘freak accident’, and ‘witch trials’, but I couldn’t care less.

I got to the phone which was an old, dusty, black dial up phone which seemed to be way past its expiration date. Some of the numbers were either broken off or faded on the dial on the phone and some of the paint was starting to chip away. I thought to myself, Man this place is old! I dialed 9-1-1 and at first the phone just rang and rang… and rang… until finally I heard some static. Finally a voice!

“9-1…. wh-a… is… yo-r em-rge-…cy?” A young female voice answered the phone.

“Yes hello my name is Andrew! We were in an accident up the road. We’re here in the Black Cat Bar up in Little Hope. We plan on going into town. Please send help to Little Hope! There are five of us!”

“Is an-y… hu-t o- mi-ing? I n-d a -… inf-ma-tion.”

“No one that we know of is hurt. It’s me, Andrew Foster, my professor John, my peers Taylor, Daniel, and Angela. The only one missing is our bus driver and I believe his name is Anthony.”

“W- wi… end -lp -…oon.”

“Oh thank god. How soon?” I felt a sense of dread as the static started to grow louder and louder. It began to give me a splitting headache.

“An-ony is -ed. For-et -im.” the voice started to grow almost demonic. I couldn’t understand it. Then a loud crashing sound was made next to me. A glass fell from a shelf and scared the shit out of me. Soon another voice hopped on the line.

“What is this?” The voice sounded like a deeper male’s voice, similar to mine, and yet still different. It sounded like it was from a different time or place, perhaps both.

“Who are you?”

“This is the Devil’s work here. I will not succumb to a witch’s spell. Your twisted words will fall on deaf ears.”

“I don’t understand.” A loud roar filled my ears before the line went dead. It caused me to drop the phone. It scared me to death. I didn’t know what to think.

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(Disclaimer: this is just a fan fiction from Little Hope! All rights reserved. Original credit goes to Dark Pictures Anthology. This story has differences compared to the original one. However, you can still make choices that can affect your outcome.)

By ASnowpasta

I'm just a crazy girl in an annoyingly 'sane' world. Navigating it through and through by following my own divine guidance. I have many passions in life and it all consists of my crazy dogs (rip Zuzu), Art, Writing and Poetry, Dream Analyzation, Everything and Anything Horror, Creepypastas, Music, Spirituality, Animals & Nature, all revolving within an infinite pool of love. I advocate for love and do not condone hate. I'm here to help, not hurt. Heal, not harm. Nothing can or will get in my way, success is within the palms of my hands.

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