Uncle Creepies Tales Of Terror 2023
Entry posted by newbloodmoon in Holiday blog
232 views
Welcome to the years final unholy trinity blog for this Halloween season in the year of our Under Lord 2023, with your good ole Uncle Creepies Tales of Terror! Some stories may not be suited for the feint of heart, continue at your own risk, you’ve been warned! Listen to the following as you read these terrors.
Like last year we will present to you ghastly tales of terror for your reading leisure whilst the wind howls outside, driving the rain against the window pane, and the occasional pop and groan from a settling home. At least you hope it’s the house and not some unseen visitor peering over your shoulder and lightly breathing on your neck.
Each section from Haiku through tiny terrors will have the PG equivalent out in the open to accommodate those who have a greater squeamish side to them. For those with a stronger constitution that want a scarier experience with stories that might include stronger language, violence, and other mature themes will have to open the hidden content tab to read what is within. These tales will range from PG13 to soft R for context so reader beware. This is your one and only trigger warning dear readers.
And now the Haiku’s of Horror, or horrible haiku’s depending on your tastes.
Dead mans wonder band. Wind rattled branches
Banging bones like Xylophones. Scrapes the window eerily
Soulless blues played here. Keeping kids awake
Witches hat and warts. Carving on some gourdes
Green face paint yellowed dentures. Triangle eyes and square teeth
Get black cat and broom. Jack o’lantern done
Cut holes in white sheet. Silent rolling fog
make them big enough to see. Full moon hangs in the night sky
Now you are a ghost. Distant howling dogs
Trepanning Sam
Exposing third eye Demons want your soul
Drill bit bites in to the skull Silent whispers in your ear
Voices now escape Leading you to hell
Modern horror shows Back alley doctor
Blood and gore, eviscerate Snips and slice, removes the eyes
Hacking Slashing, Die! Better pay up front
Hounds of hell baying Eight legged spiders
Poisoned fangs for rending flesh Killer wasps and stingy things
Eating your soft guts Venomous snake bites
Our other poetry to give you frights, not nearly as tasty as Turkish Delights
Alone Edgar Allan Poe
From childhood’s hour I have not been as others were—I have not seen asothers saw—I could not bring my passions from a common spring—From the same source I have not takenMy sorrow—I could not awakenMy heart to joy at the same tone—And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—Then—in my childhood—in the dawn of a most stormy life—was drawn from ev’ry depth of good and ill the mystery which binds me still—From the torrent, or the fountain—From the red cliff of the mountain—From the sun that ’round me roll’dIn its autumn tint of gold—From the lightning in the skyAs it pass’d me flying by—From the thunder, and the storm—And the cloud that took the form(When the rest of Heaven was blue)Of a demon in my view—
Windigo
BY LOUISE ERDRICH
For Angela
The Windigo is a flesh-eating, wintry demon with a man buried deep inside of it. In some Chippewa stories, a young girl vanquishes this monster by forcing boiling lard down its throat, thereby releasing the human at the core of ice.
You knew I was coming for you, little one,
when the kettle jumped into the fire.
Towels flapped on the hooks,
and the dog crept off, groaning,
to the deepest part of the woods.
In the hackles of dry brush a thin laughter started up.
Mother scolded the food warm and smooth in the pot
and called you to eat.
But I spoke in the cold trees:
New one, I have come for you, child hide and lie still.
The sumac pushed sour red cones through the air.
Copper burned in the raw wood.
You saw me drag toward you.
Oh touch me, I murmured, and licked the soles of your feet.
You dug your hands into my pale, melting fur.
I stole you off, a huge thing in my bristling armor.
Steam rolled from my wintry arms, each leaf shivered
from the bushes we passed
until they stood, naked, spread like the cleaned spines of fish.
Then your warm hands hummed over and shoveled themselves full
of the ice and the snow. I would darken and spill
all night running, until at last morning broke the cold earth
and I carried you home,
a river shaking in the sun.
Dead Mans Hate
By Robert E Howard
They hanged John Farrel in the dawn amid the marketplace;
At dusk came Adam Brand to him and spat upon his face.
"Ho neighbors all," spake Adam Brand, "see ye John Farrel's fate!
"Tis proven here a hempen noose is stronger than man's hate!
For heard ye not John Farrel's vow to be avenged upon me
Come life or death? See how he hangs high on the gallows tree!"
Yet never a word the people spoke, in fear and wild surprise-
For the grisly corpse raised up its head and stared with sightless eyes,
And with strange motions, slow and stiff, pointed at Adam Brand
And clambered down the gibbet tree, the noose within its hand.
With gaping mouth stood Adam Brand like a statue carved of stone,
Till the dead man laid a clammy hand hard on his shoulder bone.
Then Adam shrieked like a soul in hell; the red blood left his face
And he reeled away in a drunken run through the screaming market place;
And close behind, the dead man came with a face like a mummy's mask,
And the dead joints cracked and the stiff legs creaked with their unwonted task.
Men fled before the flying twain or shrank with bated breath,
And they saw on the face of Adam Brand the seal set there by death.
He reeled on buckling legs that failed, yet on and on he fled;
So through the shuddering market-place, the dying fled the dead.
At the riverside fell Adam Brand with a scream that rent the skies;
Across him fell John Farrel's corpse, nor ever the twain did rise.
There was no wound on Adam Brand but his brow was cold and damp,
For the fear of death had blown out his life as a witch blows out a lamp.
His lips were writhed in a horrid grin like a fiend's on Satan's coals,
And the men that looked on his face that day, his stare still haunts their souls.
Such was the fate of Adam Brand, a strange, unearthly fate;
For stronger than death or hempen noose are the fires of a dead man's hate.
And now the mid break jokes.
Why did the sextuplet spirits get kicked out of the holiday party?
They were six sheets to the wind 
Why did the werewolf hire the phantom for his traveling side show?
Because his cannibal act was comedic ghouled.
What is the executioner’s most enduring feature?
His hang nail
Now for the fat and gristle on this Halloween bone, stories so frightfully foul from the most haunted of tomes. Those who seek greater thrills as they read, I recommend hitting the play button below to for chilling ambient noises whilst you read. For those who don’t wish to read any further then skip straight to the end and listen to our audio tales.
Story #1 Lost and Found
My friends wanted to hit up the local watering holes on campus for Halloween this year. I reluctantly agreed because the last thing I really wanted to do was hang out with drunk jocks and listen to the “oh my god, I’m so drunk!” epitaphs spew out of the sorority girls mouths. It always seemed like the frat boys took that to be the international ‘mating call’ of all women. I know that eventually the plan was to get invited to one of the many home parties going on that night.
I personally wanted to have people come over bring their own beer and snacks and do a movie marathon. It would have been cheaper. Any way that’s how my Halloween night started until I woke to the warbled sounds of sirens getting closer as I found myself in a strange house, covered in blood with a butcher knife in my hand. I would have seriously questioned my convict costume if my head didn’t feel like it was stuffed with cotton and my vision wasn’t blurry. I wasn’t ever a heavy drinker so did I black out from drinking too much or did I get roofied.
Admittedly I wasn’t thinking all that straight seeing my dead friend and strangers because I bolted, stole a car. I eventually found myself hiding in the south Eugene foothills. I don’t know how I managed to avoid the patrols but I did know I had to ditch the car somewhere and so I had sped down to the willamette river and ditching the car at the Alton Baker Park, parking lot before taking a dip in the river and then stealing some street persons bike. He was so drunk I doubt he could ID me anyway.
Hell with it being Halloween I doubted a random passer by would question my ‘costume’ right! Being half soaked by river water wasn’t comfortable but if it cleared my head and helps me figure out what the hell happened so be it.There are worse things, like the onset of hypothermia and all. The best as I can guess I got roofied at the bar, what happened afterwards is a complete blank, did I go on some rampage from the possible drugs in my system or was this some elaborate prank? Better to piece it together before I land in jail.
There were a few times I thought I had been spotted by the helicopter flying overhead but eventually they moved on. With the fog that rolled in and still being damp I thought it best I moved on as well. I wanted to attempt to drink some water from a hose or something but enough people left their dogs out for potential pranksters I quickly abandoned the idea when I was startled by a German Shepard that charged out of its dog house. I hope I don’t have rabies.
Off in the distance I could vaguely hear some old time organ or classical music playing. The houses were spread out far enough and with as thick as the fog was getting, it would be easier to make off with another car and who knows, drive north to Portland? More than once I tripped and fell, scrapping my hands and knees on random branches and fist sized or larger rocks. Didn’t have time to get a flashlight.
The music faded and got louder as I stumbled about. Was it a trick of the mind or was I so turned about by the fog in the night. I wasn't sure but I eventually saw small lights in the distance. “That way, to the lights” I said and nearly scared myself before shaking my head. “Of course you’ll hear voices when you talk out loud”. As I hurried towards the source of light and possible music I tripped over a fallen chain link fence. The lights weren’t as far away as they seemed either, they were only as big as the bulbs one decorates their patio umbrella. Only there was no patio furniture but a run down amusement park.
If you could call it that, there was only one merry go round and a multi colored tent off to the right. Now I was really confused, I’ve lived in Eugene all my life and never heard of this place. There was a ruffling of fabric and then a giggle that brought my attention back to the tent. Someone dresses as a clown beckoned me inside where the music seemed to come from. For some unknown reason I felt compelled to go inside.
Slowly I walked towards the clown as he softly beckoned me to hurry as it was warm and safe inside. I couldn’t take my eyes off the person, were they male or female? Despite the fetid stench that escaped the clowns cracked red lips and the strong grasp of its hand on my shoulder, it didn’t even occur to me what dangers I would face inside. Whatever dark hold the clown had on me, I didn’t care if I would remain forever lost or one day found. I eas now home…
Story #2 Monsters In The Swamp
I wanted to do an albino alligator story here similar in vein to the Grendel story as told from the monsters perspective but was overall dissatisfied with the overall story. Guess you’ll have to settle for this instead.
Audio stories next.
Ghost Stories (1981)
Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark (2019)
Edited by newbloodmoon
1 Comment
Recommended Comments
Create an account or sign in to comment
You need to be a member in order to leave a comment
Create an account
Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!
Register a new accountSign in
Already have an account? Sign in here.
Sign In Now