Scary Story Essay Example for Free

Scary Story endeavorWhen I fin totallyy fell asleep I was running. To this day I do not live on what from. Whatever it was it must have been the most terrifying thing ever to exist for I chance onmed to be running without trying to. It was as if I had almost no control over my body. I adjureed to see what I was running from so I tried to open my eyes. I dont have intercourse what I was expecting to happen. Perhaps I thought that my body would not respond to my commands as it didnt with the running. whence it was a surprise to me when at my first attempt to open my eyes they did. I so wish I hadnt.What I proverb still haunts me most nights. I k straight that it was worse than any hatred story ever made. For that reason I have great difficulty in dictating what I saw on that dreadful night not just emotionally still for the fact that the words do not exist to express exactly what I saw but I will do my best. It was worse than any horror story ever made there was a rich smooth dripping d take the walls that looked suspiciously like blood. And it was not just dripping it was splattered over the walls as if some unmatched had been brutally murdered there.There were scratches in the walls, like someone- no not just someone- but a child by the size of the marks-had literally worn their fingers down to the knuckles trying to escape, as if that was there only way to survive. It did not seem logical that they stopped there at the clip for it looked then like there were miles and miles left before the end of that gruesome tunnel. But then my feet felt up as if they were on fire. I looked down and I saw then why those poor fateful souls had stopped there.Nails two inches long at least, sticking up out of the floor, and the walls and the ceiling, but these nails were red hot. I mean you could actually see the words scratched lightly on the wall turn back this is your objurgate and little scratchy tally marks all over the top of hundreds of tiny little sk eletons all stuck on the spikes like spoils of war. As I looked at the skeletons time seemed to turn backwards these pale discolorise white bones seemed to grow untrieder and then it started.They grew rotting flesh on the bones with maggots front crawl in and out and then the flesh grew and grew, the maggots still crawling around. Then the flesh started developing and forming scrape and then the faces started screaming out in pain calling out for their mothers and fathers. Then the screaming escalate louder and louder until it reached a deafening pitch and volume thousands of stagnant children screaming in fright, pure terror in their eyes but they were all looking in different directions, at the spikes that were brandishing them where they were slumped. Then the spikes started growing and lengthening. growing through with(predicate) the bodies of these thousands of children, all still while they are screaming themselves to death without taking a individual(a) breath. That w as the only sign that they were not living and breathing, that and the fact that the blood from where the spikes bored holes in their young frail bodies was gushing onto the floor faster than I ran through that awful tunnel. The layer of blood was growing and taking over the floor until it was lapping over my still running feet which were stepping, I just realised, on every single spike they could find, until they grew too huge.I tripped while my foot was still speared by the now over foot long spikes. As I fell into the deep layer of blood assembling on the floor I felt the spikes attack every inch of my skin, gouging through my eyes, carrying on through my brain, paralyzing me and then shattering my skull until I was face flat in the blood. The blood of thousands of dead children swelling in my ears, filling my mouth as I try to scream out for help, going up my intrude as I try to take a breath. I could feel myself dying.I could feel my own warm blood filling my skull and drench ing my hair. I knew I was going to die. I tried and failed for one last breath, the blood of all those poor children. Children whose parents would have never had closure for their deaths, some still thought that their babies will one day come home, knowing in their heart of hearts that they are dead and never coming back, filling my lungs. And then I woke up drenched in a thick cold sweat, terrified, of ever sleeping again.