Story Time!


Hey guys! So as some of you may know, I unfortunately haven’t been able to upload a new YouTube video for the past two weeks (you can find my channel here) – studying for a Law degree makes having a life outside doing work and revision super difficult! – but as I promised last week that I will upload at least one blog post per week, here is this week’s! It’s something a little different since I wanted to write a short story. English has always been my forte and even though I haven’t had time in a long while to do any, I love writing! What else do I love? Glad you asked. I love horror. I love reading horror stories, I love watching horror movies (and TV shows!) and so this story is a short horror story – it is almost Halloween after all :p

I hope you all enjoy! 🙂


‘-is in critical condition-‘

‘-breathing is extremely shallow-‘

‘-blood transfusion is essential for-‘


It was not the crash that was the most terrifying thing of all for her. It wasn’t the impact, and it wasn’t the fleeting flash of fear for her son’s safety before the all-encompassing darkness cruelly ceased her capability to think at all.

Surprisingly, the most terrifying thing of all came after this, as shredded hands touched a shredded face and as swollen eyes blinked away the viscous red liquid from obstructing their sight. It was dark and everything around her was swathed in black; to the point where she could no longer see her surroundings, only feel them. It was strange then, that despite the suffocating weight of the darkness, she could see her son clearly. It was as though he was lit by a spotlight, deliberately shining onto his face wickedly so that the full extent of his injuries were visible. It was his clothes really that convinced her that the torn up body in front of her even was her son; his face was unrecognisable.

Pearly white teeth covered with blood glinted almost painfully brightly in the inexplicable light, exposed as the top lip had been ripped from his face. The bottom lip hung awkwardly, sliced in two and stretched to hang down to his chin as though the lip had been pulled downwards, but when let go hadn’t snap back into place. Blood covered every inch of his face, every inch of his body. For a brief second, her eyes lingered upon the bloody airbag in front of him.

It was his eyes that struck her the most however. Every single part of him was saturated with blood, and yet his eyes remained clear and bright.

And open.

Her brain – riddled with shock and disbelief as it was – told her calmly that of course he was dead, no five year old could survive those injuries. So why were his eyes so…alive? Abruptly, she switched her attention to the eerie light illuminating her son. Suddenly this was the most important thing that she could focus on. Where was it coming from, and why was it shining directly onto him? In hindsight, this was certainly her traumatised brain’s why of dealing with the shock and agony she would have otherwise undoubtedly been feeling; it was her brain’s attempt at redirection. She frantically searched around the blackened car, feeling for anything that might be a button and pressing them to see if there was still any power in the car that could be causing the light. She pressed her face against the window, even going so far as to drag her mangled – and in some places – unresponsive body over her son’s tiny corpse to peer outside. No matter where she looked, all she was met with was the unending darkness and a tangible silence.

A rustle.

A giggle.

A movement.

She slammed her body backwards against what she assumed was the drivers side’s window and looked down at her son with wide eyes, pupils dilated in shock and horror. Slowly he turned his head to look at her and his bottom lip stretched sideways slightly in what was vaguely reminiscent of smile.

‘Why do you look so scared mummy?’ A voice that was not his spoke, deep and gravelly. ‘I think I hurt myself. Will you kiss it better?’

It’s arms outstretched towards her, and the frayed seatbelt snapped, as what was once her son began to slowly advance towards her with its arms outstretched and its broken bones popping and clicking as the fractures grinded against each other. She shrieked, and threw herself against the window as she frantically attempted to break it. Embedded in her left thigh was cylindrical, solid object and without thought or hesitation she pulled it from herself with a wet ‘pop’ and rammed it against the glass until it gave way. She threw herself from the car and into the unknown world outside, thinking very little of the deep lacerations that were being etched into her stomach and back from the jagged glass.


The hardest part about being a single mother was having to handle everything that life threw at you all by yourself. Perhaps this was why her brain, riddled with grief and anguish had concocted such a scary vision of her dead child, her therapist suggested. After all, the brain is a very powerful thing and can create hallucinations so vivid, that to the person experiencing them, they have no choice but to believe that what they saw was real, he concluded.

She nodded hollowly, wanting nothing more than to hobble outside to her sister’s car and go home.

‘I know what I saw.’ She stated lowly, looking into Dr. Bentley’s eyes intensely before exiting the room as quickly and with as much dignity as she could.

She had already paid Dr. Bentley at the beginning of the session, and so he had no reason to stop her.

On the drive home she began to tire of her sister’s not-so-subtle glances at her face and turned to meet her eyes.

‘What?’ She snapped with as much emotion as she could muster.

After a brief second of silence, her sister replied ‘Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me and Ty? I’m worried about you. I don’t think it’s good for you to stay in that house all alone, sis.’

‘I’m fine. I want to stay there.’ Her response was curt, sharp.

‘I know you think that and I know being there reminds you of…him, but I really think-‘

‘When I want to know what you ‘think’ I’ll make sure to tell you.’ The words stung her sister, she could tell. To be honest, she didn’t really care. She would not leave that house. The house that she bought with her own money, the house that she had intended to raise her son in.

The rest of the journey went by in silence and when the car pulled up outside of her house, she saw her sister’s pitying look and decided to exit the car quickly before her sister decided to say something more.


Again that night, she struggled to sleep. Her entire body ached deeply, in a way that reverberated in her bones. Her two broken ribs burned anytime that she breathed – or moved – and when she eventually did sleep, it was fitful.

‘Will you kiss it better?’

She shot up instantly before howling in pain, he brow drenched with sweat. The agony was so severe that for a second her vision greyed before clearing up again, allowing her to view her surroundings. She looked to the left, then to the right. She even looked up, but nothing was there. Was that a hallucination? The thought was hateful to her, that she could have lost control of her mind in such a way that she would see and hear things that weren’t there – but every time she saw a small, boy-shaped shadow move across the wall and or hear a gleefully devilish giggle, she couldn’t help but feel that her grasp on reality was slipping.

‘Will you mummy?’

The sudden voice made her shriek once more as her horror-stricken eyes settled on the bottom edge of her bed.

There, her son, covered in dirt and the tux that he was buried in stood staring at her – smiling that grossly disfigured smile with his exposed teeth glinting in the moonlight.

‘Baby?’ She croaked, throat burningly dry.

‘Why did you bury me mummy?’ The gravelly voice took on a child-like whining quality. It oozed misery.

‘I…I didn’t-‘ She began, her heart twisting with grief, terror and joy. Grief as she remembered the loss of her son, pulling his mangled body into the tiny tuxedo that she had had to buy for the funeral and the emptiness that she felt as his miniature coffin was lowered into the earth. Terror as she regarded his unmercifully hideous injuries…injuries that surely would have rendered anyone dead. And joy, because after weeks of sorrow and intense longing, he was finally here, just inches from her reach. How she wished to close that gap and hold her son again.

‘Why did you bury me mummy? I was scared.’ What was left of its bottom lip shook in a way that was reminiscent of a trembling toddler seconds before they started crying.

Her tears stung the lacerations covering her cheeks.

‘Why did you leave me mummy? I was all alone.’

‘I didn’t baby, I would never leave you-‘ Her sentence was abruptly cut short by an impromptu sob that tore its way from her throat.

‘You did mummy, you did!’ It shrieked almost indignantly. Its voice took on a husky quality that didn’t quite sound right. Like it was trying to mimic her tears insincerely.

It stretched out its twisted limbs the same way that it had in the wreckage of the car, and for a second she panicked. As if reading her mind the child cried, ‘Don’t leave me again mummy!’

She relaxed. She moved towards what was left of her son. She steeled herself against the grotesque sight of his mangled body. He didn’t look perfect anymore, but that didn’t matter. He was her son and she would never leave him again. She had made mistakes – it was hard being a single mum, and he made such a fuss when she tried to strap him into the car seat in the back. He just liked sitting next to her whilst she drove and sometimes it was easier to just let him. She had made a mistake, but now she had a second chance and she wasn’t about to let that go.

‘Come here baby.’ She cooed tearfully, her arms outstretched in the same manner as his. The toddler chirped gleefully and moved clumsily to her, teetering from side to side.

She kissed the top of his head and hazily registered the realisation that he smelt differently than before. Of dirt and soil…and of rancid meat. It didn’t matter though, none of it mattered. This was her second chance. This was all she needed.

The child looked up at her, its bright eyes alive and glittering ominously in the moonlight.

‘Come with me mummy.’ It spoke, monotone this time.

‘Where are we going baby?’ She asked with a soft smile, remembering all the times that they had played this game. He would ask her to come with him, and she would ask where. Sometimes he would name a different country, other times he would name a different planet. Either way, it was his favourite game.

‘Somewhere else. You’ll like it mummy.’ Its voice took on a sinister tone as its eyes danced across her face.

‘Does this place have a name?’ She asked pleasantly, humouring his game.

‘You’ll like it mummy. Come with me.’ Was his only response as he put his wet hand into hers and with surprising strength began to pull her towards the edge of the bed.

‘I’ll go anywhere with you baby.’ She assured him affectionately, as she followed the small, rotting boy out of the bedroom door, down the stairs, and out of their house.


So…yup. That was it basically! This is the first time I’ve written an actual story in at least a couple of years and I really enjoyed it! I hope you guys did too…and if it didn’t creep you out then at the very least I hope it was an entertaining read! It was only intended to be a short story, so I didn’t go majorly in depth with any of it the way I would had I been writing a novel (or at the very least a longer story)!

Do you wanna know how I came up with the idea for it? It was really random…I hurt myself yesterday and I text my boyfriend that I ‘had a booboo’. And then I was thinking that I was like a toddler. And then I wondered, what if I was a toddler but my injuries were a lot worse than that. And then also what if I were a zombie?

So obviously zombie toddler = devil toddler. Obviously.

Anyway, again I hope you enjoyed this – let me know! And feel free to write a story and send it to me – I love reading and would be happy to comment on it, review it, or maybe even feature it on my bog if I like it enough!

Thanks so much,

Until next time guys ❤