Tag Archives: Horror

In My Room by Monica Brinkman

Monica BrinkmanMonica


She sat on the overstuffed beige couch, legs pulled to one side; head nestled against her mother’s soft shoulder. She normally looked forward to the Sunday night ritual of watching re-runs of America’s Got Talent or The Voice. This evening all Justine could think of was the tick of the clock as it inched closer to the hour mark. A scowl, a lifted brow and a deep sigh brought no response from her mother who was captivated, eyes intently staring at the latest daredevil performer vying for a chance in Las Vegas. Click, click, click, sounded the clock’s metal hands as seconds turned into minutes; there was no escaping the inevitable turn of time.


It was always there. Stealthily creeping closer, beckoning her to acknowledge its existence, calling her to its side. Justine buried her head deeper into her mother’s warm body, hoping she’d find protection, yet knowing there was none.


“Come on baby, time for bed.”


The child’s eyes grew wide as she heard the clock’s ninth chime.


“Mamma, may I stay up just a little bit more, I’m not tired at all.” Justine conjured up the most pitiful, sorrowful face, wanting so much for her mother to give in to her wishes.


“Sorry sweetie. You have school tomorrow and we can’t have you falling asleep in class.  Now go brush your teeth and wash your face. I’ll be there shortly to tuck you in.”


With a deep moan, Justine rose from the couch and padded into the bathroom located between her bedroom and her parents’ room. She could feel its presence waiting outside the bathroom door. Muffling a sob, Justine slowly brushed each tooth twenty times and ran the soapy washcloth against her pale white-skinned face, taking extra time to rinse the suds off and pat her skin dry.


Her mother called from Justine’s bedroom, “Honey, hurry up.”


“Okay Mamma, I’m coming.” Justine took a deep breath, exhaled and entered the light-filled room, hurriedly jumped into her small twin bed, sliding her thin body under the blue and yellow pastel colored sheets.


“Did you go potty?” asked her mother as she pulled the sheets over Justine’s body and up to her chin.


“Yes Mamma.” The young girl surveyed the room and finding nothing alarming, she snuggled deeper into the soft covers, ready to fall off to sleep. Her mother placed a kiss on her forehead, rose and walked to the doorway, stopping to look back at her daughter, blew her another kiss, turned off the light and closed the bedroom door.


Justine felt a weight settle onto the foot of her bed. Don’t look, she told herself. It’s not real. It’s my ‘magination.  She felt the weight slink upward until it was right next to her face. She could feel a cool breath blow against her left ear. An icy hand touched her face and stroked her hair, as shivers of fear ran throughout her entire body. She was not going to look; not this time, not ever again. No one believed her anyway.


She shut her eyes even tighter, buried her head into the pillow and realized it would be there…today…tomorrow…for eternity.


Author: Monica M Brinkman, 2013


Visit Monica’s web-site: Meaningful Writings @ http://monicabrinkmanbooks.webs.com/

The Write Room Blog

Welcome to The Write Room Blog where friends from disparate approaches to life and writing work together and share. You’ll find great new books to read and interesting new friends. With about 30 different authors adding everything from articles about their lives to posts regarding new releases, this is sure to be a community that will keep you coming back for more.

Why don’t we start right now with a true story to entertain and hopefully fill you with a sense of wonder and the slow recognition of loss…



 Once in a Lifetime

We were mice, moving through a myriad of tunnels in the north field. There were five of us in there. Hadn’t heard or seen anyone in more than half an hour.

I’d come to a crossroads. I was pretty sure the tunnel on the right headed to the northeast, eventually coming up against the eastern fence. The tunnel on the left would take me to the north and another fence, or, if I stayed left all the way, it would split and end at the western opening, near the water pump which sat at the very edge of the woods.

I laid on my back and stared at the sunlit ceiling above me. Someone walked overhead. Searching for mice no doubt. I stayed still and chewed on a long frozen stalk of field grass I’d pulled from the from wall of the tunnel. No danger here. My friends and I had never seen the like: you could jump up and down on top of any of the tunnels and never even make a crack. The crust of ice-fused snow must have been at least two inches thick.

We had played all sorts of games on the field this winter, overtop the tunnels: lacrosse, boot hockey, broomball. Christmas holidays had never been this much fun.

I don’t remember who thought of the tunnels. I think we started out building a fort and someone decided to dig a protective cave at the back of it. Genius from such a simple idea. When we realized the crust would hold our weight—even when all the snow beneath it had been removed, the digging began in earnest.

The adults had no idea what we up to, and in the following days we built such a complex set of trails, you could almost get lost in there.

I used the tunnels as a hiding place when it came time to pump and carry dozens of pails of water up to the house (mom used them for washing clothes).

The girls would disappear at odd times without warning. My brother and I had figured out they had a little room somewhere near the centre of the field. We just hadn’t been able to find it yet; I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

The tunnels became something special to us—magical for sure—but something even more, a thing we could feel in our bellies and in the thudding of our hearts, yet couldn’t name. All I know is that each of us were enamoured for the few weeks the cold weather kept the crust nice and firm.

Then came the day—this day— when with no warning at all a foot appeared through the roof of the tunnel, just a few feet away from my head. A second foot soon followed.

I called everyone out. We gathered in a mournful circle around the hole in our tunnel, knowing without speaking that the fun was over for now. None of us imagined that it would be forever.

Copyright © 2013 Clayton Bye