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Scary Story Sunday!

It's October! That means that once a week I'll be posting a flash fiction/short fiction piece here on my blog. These usually come from a prompt, and the posted version is the first version - no edits. Just a short little piece to get you into the spooky spirit. If you want more, you can check out the archive of short stories past here.


But first, I want to apologize for having no September post. As many of you probably know, there have been fires all over the west coast, including in my neighborhood of Talent Oregon. Thankfully, our place is still standing, and we were only displaced for about 10 days. I know others who were not so lucky. So if you want to find places to donate money, or time (if you're local) you can check out a list here.


Okay, now onto the scary!




Prompt: N/A. This one is just inspired by characters in books and other media that I've encountered lately. In a book I read recently one character would constantly ask 'Do you want to see my room?' in something else another character asked "Do you want to build an app?" Neither of those were from horror media, I just wanted to build a story around an innocent sounding question.


The Treehouse


Monica was in her front yard combing her Barbie doll's hair when a girl she had never seen before walked up to her.

"Wanna see my treehouse?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Monica asked, pausing what she was doing.

"Wanna see my treehouse?"

"Um. No thank you." Monica said. The girl didn't say anything more, and skipped away.

That night at dinner, Monica ate while her parents discussed the most recent news of yet another missing child in their neighborhood. The number was up to five now.

The next day, Monica was in her front yard blowing some bubbles when the unknown girl walked up to her again.

"Wanna see my treehouse?"

"No thank you." Monica said. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Jane."

"Hi Jane. I'm Monica." Jane didn't say anything else, and just skipped away.

That night, Monica and her parents ate in the living room - eyes glued to the news of one more missing child.

"I met a girl named Jane today." Monica said.

"That's nice, dear." Said her parents. A mom was crying on the television.

The next day, Monica sat in her front yard waiting for Jane. Finally, she saw Jane skipping up her street.

"I'd like to see your treehouse." Monica said.

"C'mon. Follow me," said Jane.

They walked for a really long time. Every time Monica asked if they were getting close, Jane would say "we're almost to my treehouse."

Eventually, they came upon a rundown shack. Monica could see that behind it was a treehouse. Piles of dirt surrounded the property and Monica had to hold her nose to try to block out the rancid smell.

"Do you live here?" Monica asked.

"That's my treehouse," Jane said.

Monica climbed up the ladder and into the treehouse. Once inside, she froze. Plastered all over the walls of the treehouse were the missing posters of all the missing children.

"Thanks for coming to my treehouse." Jane said.

Monica felt a sharp pain on the back of her head. She heard giggling as her vision faded to black.



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