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

Haunted Town- Journal Entry 4- No Drink

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on this one. I gotta keep a clear head.” John sighed in relief knowing that he made the best choice that he could.

“Suit yourself. Like I said before, drinking is all I have left.” Vince paused and took a drink. “After the tragic history this town has been through.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“What is it that you’re talking to? A cell phone?” Vince asked.

“I’m keeping track of everything on my phone just in case if anything happens to us or if we ever get in touch with someone. I have no service so I can’t call 911. This is all the phone is good for.”

“Ah I see, like a diary.”

“We’re going to have a look around!” Angela exclaimed to John and I.

“See what you can dig up.” Said Vince.

I could hear Angela, Daniel, and Taylor rustling through newspapers, loose leaf papers, old flyers, and pictures laying around the bar. I could overhear them talking about how interesting everything looked as they looked through the historical monument that is this old bar.

“Do you have a phone?” John asked calmly. I knew inside he was just as anxious to get out of here as everyone else.

“We have one, but the line isn’t very reliable. These wires are so old they just don’t work like how they used to.” Vince poured another drink.

“It’s worth a shot.” I said.

I walked off to try out the phone. John and the old man continued to talk as Taylor, Angela, and Daniel looked around. I found the phone. It was so old, like decades old, black and covered in dust. It was one of those phones with a top handle and buttons that spin. A couple of the numbers were almost faded away or missing, but I knew what was what. It didn’t matter to me, what mattered was going home safe and sound.

“Here goes nothing.” I spun the numbers to 9-1-1. I could hear a couple clicks and then a ring as I put the phone handle to my ear. It rung three more times before I heard a very raspy, static filled voice.

“9-1… wh-a … is yo-r emerge-y?” A mature male voice said over the phone.

“Yes! Hello, this is an emergency! We had a bus crash down the road and there are five people are here at Black Cat Bar in Little Hope.”

“I-… c..an se… ..lp but I- ne-… -ore info…-tion.”

“My name is Andrew, Andrew Foster. The others are Taylor, John, Angela, and Daniel. Our bus driver, I think his name is Anthony, is missing.”

“I-… an…. hu….rt?”

“No I don’t think so, it’s just our bus driver is missing. Please come to Little Hope. Please come to town! We need help!”

“A…. som…. wi….” the static got louder and I swear I could hear other garbled noises on the other end.

“Hello? Is anyone there? Hello???” Then the static got quiet and another voice chimed in.

“Who is this that beckons for my time?” It sounded like someone from another time or another place. Nowhere I can necessarily pinpoint.

“What? Who are you?”

“This is the work of the Devil. I will not give into its filthy tricks.” It was a deeper voice, yet had a ring similar to mine. “I withhold my name from you heathen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You are cursed!” A massive roar of static and some unknown creature came through the phone. It was ear shattering! The noise scared me so much that I dropped the phone to the floor.

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(Disclaimer: this is just a fan fiction! All rights belong to Dark Pictures Anthology. This is all for fun. A lot of the story is different from the game to add some originality, yet some aspects of the game are still there. You can make some decisions which will affect the outcome of the story.)

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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