Someday, I hope to write. For now, I am practicing with short horror stories, but I promise you that not every story in here is scary. There are sad ones as well. If I have made you scared or sad, then I can rest peacefully knowing that I have succeeded in my goals.

I published these stories on sites, mainly deviantART and secondarily FictionPress/FanFiction. It was on FictionPress that somebody messaged me, suggesting I post these on SparkaTale. So... here I am.

If you support me... thank you.

These stories aren't in order from when I wrote them. If I started off with the first story I ever wrote, I'd definitely lose your attention with the first story!

Thanks for reading,           

Alex Sorrow     

    You never appreciate how beautiful the forest really is until you have nothing left to think about.

    A few leaves brush past me, carried by the wind. I feel the grass, moist and cold, underneath my back as I lie spread out on the forest floor. The dew in the grass feels like it’s seeping into the cuts over my battered body, and broken though I may be, I am free. I did what most of them back at that hellhole dream of: I escaped, and I’m still alive.

    They had about nine other kids imprisoned there, so they couldn’t keep an eye on all of us all the time. Sure, that Rottweiler might have knocked me into the dirt and brutally snapped its teeth together on me until I managed to shove it off and get away, but the part of my face where the dog had chewed is feeling much better underneath the cooling rain that is beginning to fall from the darkened sky.

    The dog had gotten a tooth into my eye, and I can feel my eye trying to roll up into my head. I have to keep poking at it until it goes back to normal, but everything I see out of it is either glazed or white. The rain feels refreshing over my torn self, and I stick out my tongue to catch a few drops. I remind myself how lucky I am to still have a tongue.

    There had been one boy who had talked back to one of them, and they had cut his out and nailed it to the wall. The foolish boy had died, but his memory lived on, no matter how sickening that memory was. I feel repulsed when I think of his tongue oozing sticky, thick, shiny blood down the wall, permanently dying that spot red. They had been merciless to us when we were locked in there. We didn’t know who they were, so we called them the jailers. The place was the prison. We were the prisoners.

    I wince. A dry leaf digs into my back, and I remember the painful memory of their knives scraping my back during a torture session. That’s what they did, the jailers had tortured us like we were their playthings. We were only mere toys to those people. Toys could be replaced. Easily. If one of us had been unable to stand it any longer, and finally felt the sweet relief of death, they would be back to the prison the next day with a new one. There were boys and girls there; the jailers held no prejudice or bias. Both genders were treated equally unfairly. Boys had strips of flesh slowly shaved off with the sharp end of a knife while girls were raped and had large handfuls of hair yanked until it was finally pulled from their scalps.

    I’m calm out here. The blissful silence of the forest is such an absolute change, such a welcome change, from the horrible screams of agony and overwhelming sorrow that constantly rang out in the prison. The bruises I have from the whip still ache, but the rain is fixing me. I know I’m going up to live among the rain soon.

    I’m reflecting now. The rain around me seems to fall in slow motion, and each raindrop seems to hold a memory. I can see my parents throwing me a birthday party when I was a kid. They made such a big deal over every birthday I had. I miss my parents, and I know that they’ll forever wonder whatever happened to their son. I wonder if they think I ran away.

    I look at another raindrop, and see the bag. The dirty, brown bag that the jailers had shoved over my head when they had taken me. Why had I chosen to walk home alone that night? I remember the car pulling up and stopping right next me as I walked under a streetlight. It had been done quickly, so I had barely had any time to scream. They definitely had had a lot of practice with this.

    The rain splashes into the grass, and the air around me begins to smell damp and refreshing. My bare chest is quickly covered in water, as my hair is instantly drenched. The rain washes away the blood leaking out of the cuts on my body. I remember the sight of my blood so clearly, especially the way it looked on the wickedly-sharp knife that they had used. That knife, I couldn’t stand the sight of the blood staining the blade, knowing that that was my blood. I tried to fight, to put up some sort of struggle, but it never worked. The thick ropes held my hands wide apart and kept my feet from touching the ground.

    All I could do there was scream. Every day, I would look into their eyes and see the joy they got out of hearing me scream and beg to be set free. I know that they liked the bloodcurdling screams the most. Like you had just seen a murder, seen a loved one shot in the head. In fact, we had seen a few kids killed in there. I was going to be remembered among them for doing the impossible, and actually managing to escape.

    They had vicious Rottweilers to prevent us escaping, and high fences with barbed wire at the top to prevent us and the dogs from escaping. Maybe the dogs were as much prisoners as we were.

    I hear a distant sound. A car engine, roaming the streets in the pouring rain. I know it’s them, searching for me. Who else would out here, miles from any civilization, in the middle of a stormy night?

    I look up into the sky, and try to look past the rain. I can barely see them, but they are there. The stars. The bright, shining stars. They are white, glowing orbs in the dark, heartless abyss of a night sky. I try to think about those stars, and what they mean. They are a reminder that light exists in the dark, that good is in evil. I would laugh, but my throat is badly damaged. There is no good in the evil ones. Not in the jailers.

    The car engine grows closer, and I can see the car’s headlights through the veil of rain. The engine becomes deafening to my tired and ruined ears. The headlights wash over me, and the car stops. They had found me.

    I hear a car door open and slam shut, followed by a male yelling something. I close my eyes; I don’t care anymore. I’m free now. Free.

    It isn’t fair. I ran for so long. I used up all my strength so I don’t have any left to even try pulling myself away from the road. They shout back and forth rapidly. I couldn’t less about what they’re saying. Deep down, I already know. They’re going to make it harder for anyone else to escape like I did. I feel sympathy for the other kids, because they aren’t going to get out of there.

    First things first for the jailers though. First, they have to get rid of me. A chill fills my body, even though I try to fight it down. The chill is partly from the wind, blowing with the force of a gale, almost hurricane-strength winds. The chill is also coming from what I know they are about to do.

    The moonlight is absent. At least they can’t kill me slowly, as I know they would like to do. This is the small act of rebellion that I am going to die with.

    The stars in the sky are the only witnesses to the event that is coming. One of the jailers points his hand at me, and then I'm staring down the nozzle of a gun. I can't see the bullet inside that will finally end all my suffering, all my torment, but I silently thank it. I close my eyes, ready for this all to end for me. The rain starts to fall harder. My final thought is a question. They will kidnap another kid, simply to put him through the same suffering they push on everyone else until that new kid dies, but I wonder…

    Who will that kid be?

It was Halloween, 2006.

Disneyland unveiled a new ride to the public. It was going to be similar to the Haunted Mansion ride, in which you would ride a few cars through scary decorations. “The Haunter”, it was to be called, was designed to be superior to the Mansion, and the Mansion was going to be torn down and replaced with another attraction.

Disneyland staff wanted to test the ride before it was to be officially released to the public, and decided to turn it into a raffle. Write down the name of one or two riders on a piece of paper and drop it into a large box outside the Haunter’s location.

The raffle was crowded for nearly half an hour with hopeful people writing down their names to be selected. It was an excellent opportunity, to be one of the first to ride this new attraction. When the crowd started to leave, a man in Disneyland staff attire collected the box and disappeared behind an “authorized personnel only, all others keep out” door. A few minutes later, an announcement came over the intercoms.

“Will the following people please report to the Haunter…”

The announcement listed off 10 names, apparently the max amount of seats available. The delighted guests hurried to the ride. What may or may not have been coincidence was that there were five males and five females. All were in their teens.

Staff members, after securing them into the ride behind a safety bar and going over safety procedures, started the ride. The ride, which was supposed to be around 7 minutes long, had various elements from Haunted Mansion, but mostly new material. Most of it had been checked to be safe prior to the raffle.

Staff members monitored the progress of the ride through hidden cameras, and were pleased with how the ride was working.

About two minutes into the ride, a sudden power shortage struck the ride, plunging the testers into the dark and the safety rails of the lifts opened. The cameras began to work again, but static engulfed the video and audio. Vague shapes could be seen on the video, but the audio was much clearer.

There was a strange clunking sound nearly lost under the screams of the riders. It seemed every one of them was screaming, one was shouting “No!” over and over again between screams.

Disney rides had power mistakes before, but the guest’s reactions had never been so extreme. A designated park attendant made his way into the ride, equipped with a flashlight and a radio, to find the guests and escort them out of the ride.

Staff monitoring the cameras endured the screams and chaos for an uncertain amount of time before the ride unexpectedly began moving again. The cameras died and would not turn on again shortly after this happened. The riders emerged from the ride, and various park attendants rushed to them to check and see if they were okay.

Two riders were missing, and those remaining were covered in an unknown black substance. The park attendant who had gone inside to escort them out was never found. It was reported that his radio went off around the time the ride began moving again. Staff assumed he was trying to contact them for some reason, but the only sound from it was a high pitched whine with the faintest laughter behind it.

The riders appeared to exhibit symptoms of shock, and did not speak after being removed from the lift. Only after they were taken away by paramedics did one of them speak.

He was asked by the paramedics what happened in the ride.

“That thing took them. The dead thing in the ride. Please… don’t make me go back there. Please don’t let them die.”

All riders spoke vague answers to all questions regarding the events that occurred in the Haunter, and most never returned to a Disneyland park.

A security crew entered the Haunter to search for the missing riders and the employee. They reached the point the lift had stopped, and observed the strange black substance on the ground resembling what appeared to be footprints. One security guard reached down to touch it, and immediately pulled his hand back, insisting it had burned him.

The ride was dismantled, and the missing people would never be found. A new attraction was built on the spot the Haunter had been.

Reports of children seeing things in the new attraction began after it was opened. One mother claims that, halfway through the new attraction, her 8-year-old son whispered to her, while pointing toward the ceiling:

“Mommy, look at those people! Where are their eyes?”

When the mother looked up, she saw nothing. Similar reports of children and people seeing “The people with no eyes” or “The black slime people” appeared every now and then, and cleaning crews complained about finding black, slimy footprints in the new attraction.

The footage of the ride in the Haunter was reviewed after it was torn down. The video was fine until the point in the ride the power died. Large lines of static began obstructing the view, but all those who have seen the footage agree that a figure climbing on the lift to the screaming riders is visible.

After the footage was carefully examined, another piece of evidence to what happened was found. When the power dies, a face is just barely visible. It is smiling with the corners of its mouth gone and tiny black eyes staring straight into the camera. Just before the ride began moving again, the face appears again, but has three other faces behind it.

The faces of the riders who disappeared and the park employee, horrifyingly distorted to resemble the creature. Their eyes were torn out, replaced with a black slime that fell out of the eyeholes. Each one of them was smiling.

All records of the Haunter have presumably been destroyed.