Jalyn Nwogu
Bio
I'm a 3d artist, but on the side, I enjoy creative writing and creating psychological horror-based stories.
Stories (2)
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The Sabbath
We walk in straight lines, unbroken and focused, into the forest, into my eternal fate. The trees dance in the moonlight taunting me, rejoicing in my misery. The wind nips at my exposed feet and slips between the opening of my cloak leaving frozen kisses on my arms and down my legs. As we walk deeper into the forest, my body steadily grows weak and numb. My feet are covered in cuts from the exposed branches and fallen twigs. The dirt clings to my skin, refusing to let me go further. Our leader, my mother, walks in front of me oblivious to my dread and I so desperately wish that she would turn around and tell me I don’t have to go through with this, but I know that is not who she is. It is not who we are.
By Jalyn Nwogu5 years ago in Horror
Canary
I don't know why they left her eyes open. My mother claims it’s that so we may never forget her eyes, so we can remember her eyes finally at peace. Looking down at her in this casket she almost feels like she was never really a person. She’s so still and so quiet. I feel like I can barely remember her anymore. I don’t think I can look at her like this any longer. I turn to see my mother sitting in a chair in the corner of the living room staring straight ahead, her eyes just as lost as my grandmother’s was. Her hair seems more unruly than normal, her clothes are wrinkled and her massacre has smudged under her eyes. She's been like that for a while. She slowly watched my grandmother fall deeper and deeper into psychosis as she spent most of her life putting her in and out of different mental institutions trying to find some peace for her. I can see her hands shaking as she tries to contain herself for our family and I so badly wanted to go over and touch her, comfort her somehow, but I can’t. She’ll just give me that same watery smile, tell me she’s fine, give me a sweet moist kiss on my cheek, and become lost once again. I try to spot my father, but not surprisingly he’s not around. He’s most likely chatting up every single person in this house to try to keep the spirits up and the hope alive. I don’t know what hope there is for this family, but he certainly tries his best to keep it.
By Jalyn Nwogu5 years ago in Horror
