Scariest Story Ever

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Beware the angel in the mirror.

Submitted: November 12, 2017

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Submitted: November 12, 2017



The scariest story ever is when you look in the mirror and see an angelic creature reaching out to you with deeply profound caring and forgiving love in her serene smile. A feeling of overwhelming relief floods your weary soul. You have a sense of being liberated from fear and worry. All is well. You have been anointed, specially chosen to bring a light of grace into the world of man which shall, by mercy of a divine message delivered through you, be miraculously cleansed of iniquity and evil.

Salvation is at hand. Trials and tribulations are over. The trumpet of eternal peace has sounded. From the golden gate of glory you bear forth the shining torch of everlasting paradise. An ecstatic sympathy of endearing gratitude compels you to reach out your hand to the lovely beckoning angel who floats softly on snow white wings of blessing.

When your fingertips make contact with her beautiful immaculate hand she instantly decays into a vicious monstrosity of ghoulish violence - a morbid howling hag of sinister ugly malevolence. You witness your own death in the mirror. You are helpless to stop your grim fate. You can do nothing to save yourself.

You see grieving mourners in sad bereavement on the gloomy day of your forlorn funeral. You watch as they bury you in rain-soaked mud. You are screaming that you are not dead. You beg them to stop throwing the dirty muck on top of your coffin. You scratch, claw, tear, and rip in a hysterical attempt to break free from the casket lid that has closed you into the mortifying silence of a remorseless premature grave. Then, you see another fright of even worse terror than that of being buried alive.

You see yourself with the gory angelic monstrosity in the mirror. Your teeth are rotting out of your mouth. The unhallowed apostate seraph grants you a spellbound spade, the rough handle of which is covered with symbolism of the forbidden occult.

With this haunted implement, you can dig yourself out of the cold worm-infested earth that smothers your immortal soul in suffocating darkness, yet as you dig your way to the breathable air at the surface, one of the rotten teeth falls from your face landing in the sink below the mirror.

You gaze for a moment at the dark gap in your mouth from whence the missing tooth dropped. As blood oozes from the hole in your gums, you hear a desperate cry for help. Looking down, you see Mahatma Gandhi drowning in your flowing blood as it inexorably fills the filthy sink.

The unholy abomination in the mirror is cackling in wild sadistic abandon. Her ragged garb tortuously mingles with the gray-streaked tangles of her festering serpentine hair. Enveloping your limbs making it difficult to move, the fiendish crone engulfs you in her coiling madness.

With dull clumsy spasms, you dig further up out of the icy lightless pit of your ill-omened grave, then another tooth falls in gangrenous rot from your tormented face. This time you see Mother Teresa drowning in your flowing blood. Albert Schweitzer and Jane Addams are next.

Slowly, you begin to realize that the teeth rotting out of your bloody mouth are people who have had significant impacts on the course of human social affairs. The further up you dig yourself from your unhallowed grave, the more of your putrid teeth fall from the yowling chapped lips and hemorrhaging gums of your agonized face.

You watch in stark disbelief as these revered historic figures with distressed flailing arms struggle in vain, their lolling heads finally succumbing, slowly sinking under as they perish in the flood of your pouring blood. As each of the beloved eminent dignitaries is claimed by charnel death in the sickening blood-filled sink below the wickedly enchanted mirror, you witness disastrous changes that scavenge through society as all the noble work the venerated humanitarians accomplished in their lifetimes is erased - totally wiped out forever.

The horrible hag scowls and bellows in a fury of diabolical revelry as the awareness begins to seep down through the tangled muddy roots into your inhumed coffin. The only way these social reformers can exist in the moments of history with their helpful deeds in tact is if you remain buried alive in your cold dark grave. Yet, there are people who weep over your burial plot and lament for your return. They cry out for you to come back and help them in their piteous hour of need.

The spellbound spade burns like brimstone in your quivering hands. In the inky shadows of the grave, you can feel vermin squirming into your skull. The bat-winged hag shrieks in perverse delight at the emotional anguish that mangles your desperate heart.

In mindless panic you reach down into the bloody sink, grabbing the rotten teeth that have fallen from your face. Like a lunatic fighting a straight jacket you frantically jam the broken teeth into the bleeding gaps in your gums, but the maggoty chunks of putrescent bone keep falling back into the tainted sink that is now overflowing with dark red blood. You moan plaintively in the manic frustration of horrified hopelessness.

Suddenly, with a crash of booming thunder, you wake up in bed, finding yourself tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. It’s early morning on a gray day. Drizzling rain patters down from a lowering cloud-leaden sky. It was all a dream - a bad neurotic dream. Palpitating from the disturbing effects of the ghastly nightmare, you rise and stagger into the bathroom where you balk at the sight of an angel figurine hanging upside down from a blood-spattered ceiling.

The macabre legends penned by author Sean Terrence Best are at your fingertips via, Barnes&Noble, and many other booksellers.

© Copyright 2018 Sean Terrence Best. All rights reserved.

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