The two texts I wrote were for a French assignment, and I want to get people’s thoughts on them. I already made a post about the first text—Louise’s story—and someone replied saying it was too descriptive and not scary. Thanks for the replies, but I actually copied the first part from an exam essay, and when my French teacher read it, the description actually disgusted her so much she stopped eating. I was proud of myself that day—I conveyed emotion through text. (translated from french)

But maybe there’s something missing in these stories. For people who want to know, I’m in 2ème année collège (around 8th grade)."

louise

It has been exactly ten nights now. Ten nights, like the ten long years I have spent here, in the silence of this house the world seems to have forgotten. Something is wrong. Every night, a boy dressed in black comes to stand outside my window. This boy terrifies me with his appearance. He is filthy; his hair is matted with dirt and insects. His clothes are stained with a red substance resembling blood. He wears no shoes, and his feet are dirty and swollen. His nails are rotten.

The young boy’s body is covered in wounds. He wears a bandage around his head, but I can see blood seeping through. He has multiple gashes on his arms, crawling with larvae. He has a wound on his foot so deep I can see the bone. He is also missing a finger, torn clean off.

But as I was watching him, he turned his head and met my gaze. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, suddenly, he let out a piercing shriek. I fell to the floor in terror and crawled to my bedroom. Suddenly, someone knocked at my door. I didn’t dare move, and for long minutes, all I heard was bang, bang, bang. Then the sound stopped.

I got up to check, but there in the living room stood a small child dressed in white. He was clean, seemed serene, and had one of the most innocent faces I had ever seen. He smiled at me, then opened his mouth. And that’s when I saw the horror.

His mouth hung open, dangling all the way to the floor. It was enormous, and inside it was a portal. From this portal emerged a tall man, entirely black, with no face. He wore a hat. The man approached me, touched me, and… I fainted.

When I came to, I found myself in a cemetery. Panicked, I began to run. But one grave caught my attention. On it was written: LOUISE BARNAME – 1968-1984. I stood there, dumbstruck before the grave, because Louise… that’s my name. And then, in a flash of cold pain, I remembered. The gravel of the road. The headlights. My last thought, stubborn, absolute: “I don’t want to go.” Then, nothing. Nothing but this house, and this time that no longer moved forward. The child in white watched me from the other side of the headstones, and his smile was no longer innocent. It was patient. He had waited ten years.

janus

Have you heard of Janus?
No? Who’s that?
They say he’s haunted these parts for thousands of years. Really. They say he lives around the Gouffre, near Lac de Savente.

Janus looks like a young teenager. He’s small, with human-like features. What gives him away are his eyes: a shade of blue not found in humans. He has a lopsided gaze, and his stare makes most people… uncomfortable.

He’s completely mute, or pretends to be. Most who meet him quickly sense something isn’t right with the boy, but they can’t quite say what. Whether it’s his face or the way he interacts, something just feels off.

Yet Janus gives off a lively personality. He often grabs the hand of those he meets and leads them to an isolated clearing. There, he offers them a packet of biscuits. Then, he takes a few steps back.

He brings his hands to the right side of his head.
And opens it. Like a door.

From his head emerges an entity whose exact appearance is unknown. You only see movement, twisting shadows, and you feel the weight of a gaze not meant for this world.

The worst part is what comes after. The person walks out of the woods, pale, still clutching the packet of biscuits. They remember nothing. But every night that follows, they dream of the open door, and of that electric blue, lopsided stare.

And one detail, always: in their dream, they finally accept the biscuit.