Skeletal Revenge

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Ahha, I can't say I'm the best at writing horror, but hey, what can I say, with Halloween on the horizon, I had to give it a go.

What would you do if the body you discovered 10 years ago, rises and comes after you?

Submitted: October 13, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 13, 2011



Skeletal Revenge


I’ve only seen a dead body twice in my life.

Well, once, if you want to get technical and say that the dead bodies were not two individual people, but the same corpse over a period of 10 years.

It’s weird, right?

Mind you, the body is no longer a corpse, but a skeleton –nothing more than a pile of bones. But I can tell it’s the same person. It’s in the same position that it’d been ten years ago. The bones were worn, scratched with the marks of claws and teeth from the animals that with no doubt had eaten the flesh.

As I stood there, under the oak tree in the town my family had left all that time ago, I wondered why no one had ever come across it. It wasn’t like it was completely hidden –I mean, I had stumbled across it when I was fifteen.

And here I stood, twenty-five. Not like it was by accident that I had stumbled across it today. I had come out specifically to stumble across the scene. The backwoods of my old country farm –it was only fifty acres –and I say only because the farm beside us is much larger, although it’s mostly fields. They had a lot of cows, which had probably covered up the smell of the rotting corpse.

I crouched in front of the bones, looking at it more closely.

I felt bad. When I had first come across the body, I had been too scared to say anything. I was fifteen. I had seen the shows on TV. I didn’t want to be blamed for killing the girl. So I had run home. I ran as fast as I could, and when I burst into the living room of the two-story farmhouse, and I didn’t say a single thing about it.

And no one ever asked questions. The police never came knocking on our door, and my family moved a year later. And since I saw the body, I’d never once ventured into the woods again.

Until today.

Was it too late to tell someone?

Was it ever too late?

Even so, it… felt too late. I stood up, grabbing the shovel I had brought with me, just in case, and immediately got to work. I dug the hole, deep rather than wide. The deeper, the better, but after about two to three feet it became too hard to do it with a plain shovel. I got down on my knees, clawing at the earth with my hands until the only dirt that broke away from the ground was gathered under my nails.

I sat back on my hind legs, wiping my brow with the back of my hand. I could feel the dirt clinging to the sweat on my forehead. Still, I got up, went to the pile of bones and took the skeleton apart, placing them one by one in the hole.

When it was all in the hole, I shoved all the dirt back on top of it, spreading leaves and old branches on top, walking over it to make it look like it’d been there for ages. It was easy, since it was late October and most of the leaves on the trees covered the ground in a red, orange, yellow and brown blanket.

And with that, I got up and headed back towards the farmhouse. The entire reason I’m back is because my older brother had bought the farm, to give his children the childhood that he had loved so much. He had a son and daughter, five and three. Had he come any later, I’m sure they would have been a lot more reluctant to go so far from the city.

“What’s up?” My brother asked, unwrapping a vase as I entered the kitchen through the backdoor. “You’re so dirty –what’d you do, bury a body?”

I just smiled and shook my head. “Just the bones.” He only laughed as I kicked off my shoes and headed for the bathroom. “The water’s on, right?”

“Um, yeah,” he called after me. “All the utilities are good to go.”

“Awesome,” I murmured, turning on the tap as I closed the door. Just as I was about to strip down, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to see my brother holding two towels.

“You’ll obviously need something to dry yourself with,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, taking them before shutting the door again.

The shower was nice, but it didn’t wash away the guilt that lingered. It wasn’t away the dirt, but not the memory. I thought burying the body –the bones –would have given me some piece of mind, but it was quite the opposite.

I feared this feeling would never go away.


For weeks there were news reports about her. No one knew where she was. And all I could think about was her body there, in the woods. As much as I wanted to go back, I refused to take a step in that forest. And somehow, I managed to keep my sister from doing the same.


A few days later I was working in the fields with my brother and one of the guys he hired to run the farm along side him.

“Take this over there,” My brother told me, handing me a bunch of bush branches. The farm wasn’t in as great a condition as we’d left it.

I looked over to where he had gestured. It was the shack by the woods. It was where we’d kept the wood and the hay –far away from the house since my father was scared of fires. As I walked over, I glanced between the trees, squinting. Did I hide the hole well enough? Would anyone find it? Was it suspicious that I buried them?

I pushed the heavy door of the shed open, taking a peek into the darkness. How many times had I played hide-and-go-seek in here? With a small smile I placed the branches down in the far corner.

I had no doubt that by the end of this week, the entire room would be full. My brother was dead set on getting this farm up and running as soon as possible.

Scritch. Scritch.

I looked up suddenly. But saw nothing. I waited, unmoving, but the sound didn’t occur again. With a small sigh, I dusted myself off and left the shack.

Scritch. Scritch.

I paused again, looking left and right. I circled the shed once, but there was nothing.

Scritch. Scritch.

“Boo!” My brother said, jumping around the side of the shack.

“Don’t do that to me,” I said, immediately hitting him in retaliation as my heart nearly leapt out of my throat. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“What are you doing back here?” he asked.

“I heard a noise,” I told him.

“What kind of noise?” he asked.

Scritch. Scritch.

“That noise,” I told him, walking past him from the direction I thought I heard it. Again, I turned up with nothing.

“I don’t hear anything,” he told me.

“Liar,” I told him, shoving his eyebrow. “Is it Jordan?”

“Jordan’s working on the plow, trying to see if he can get it to work without us having to buy a new one,” my brother shrugged. “You’re crazy, sis.”

“I’m not crazy,” I told him as he walked away.

He only shrugged again, not bothering to turn around.

“I’m not crazy,” I murmured to myself, taking another glance around before hurrying after him.


The girl lay under a large oak tree, her pale skin cut in various places. Blood trickled down from her head. There was no doubt that she was dead, but she was still warm. The leaves around her were stained red from her blood. The dirt was kicked around, the leaves scattered even more unnaturally than ever.

And all I could do was watch as her blood dripped down into the earth.


I pulled on my shirt, getting ready for bed. I stretched, bliss surrounding me as my head touched the pillow. It felt so good to relax after a hard day’s work.

Scritch. Scritch.

Ignoring it, I inched my way up to the headboard then slipped under my covers, so that I didn’t disturb the tucked in edges, the way I used to when I was little. I wiggled down until the blanket was at my chin.

Scritch. Scritch.

I closed my eyes. It was nothing. Though I wished the guest bedroom wasn’t on the first floor.


Scritch. Scritch.

I didn’t hear it again after that.

With a slow breath, I tried to sleep.

And maybe I really did fall asleep. Maybe. But the only thing I remember after that is a weight bearing down on me. It was light, but I felt it nonetheless. My eyes flew open to meet the empty eyes of the skeleton. Only I could see right through it and out the other side, due to the damage caused at her death. Despite having been taken apart, it was there, in front of me –on me –whole and hollow.

My mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out.

Boney fingers wrapped around my throat.

I was dragged from my bed, the blankets still wrapped around me. I kicked and I struggled, but it was impossible to escape the clutches of her skeleton. The back door was swinging in the wind lightly, though I had made sure it was locked before going to rest in my bed.

As I went over the back step, my back hit the cold ground hard. Still, I was dragged across the yard, towards the woods.

I coughed, managing to get my arms out from beneath the blankets and to my throat, trying to pull the hands away as we entered the woods.

“W-” I tried to speak.

“W-” I couldn’t breathe.

“Why?” I finally managed, coughing again.

The empty eye sockets barreled into me as I breathed my last breaths as the skeleton cocked her head to the side. The bones sounded old and rigidity as the jaw opened and closed. But the words I heard didn’t come from the skull. It came in with a breeze, just as the world went pitch black.

“Because you killed me.”


I don’t know why I did it. I’d like to say she instigated it, but I don’t actually remember. I was pretty sure she'd been the one to call me out there, though, back into the woods. She and my older sister had fought, and she wanted me to talk to my sister to settle things. But she said something that set me off, and I leapt on her, my nails digging into her skin.

She fought against me. She was a year older, but she hadn’t grown up on a farm –I thought I was sure to win. She didn’t have the same strength I did from all the yard and animal work. Yet, somehow she had won, getting me on the ground. And as she tried to walk away, I had lifted a rock high above my head and slammed it repeatedly into the back of her skull. She collapsed, and that was the end of it. 

Or, so I thought.


I had killed her. A girl I hardly knew.


And this was her revenge.







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