"Last night, that black cat sat on my chest again," Jakob said to his mother. "I swear, its eyes were hanging out, and blood was dripping from them. Yet it was still staring at me. It comes every night; I feel suffocated, but I can't scream or move."
As always, his mother responded with the same words: "You're a great storyteller; I admire you for it. You should start writing."
She smiled and dismissed his words as nonsense. Every morning, Jakob repeated the same claims, which is why no one believed him. Still, after each night, he would wake up with an unusual restlessness and fear in his eyes.
"Jakob would keep mumbling throughout the day: 'Someone is always following me like a shadow; someone is constantly watching me. There’s blood instead of liquor in my bottles. Someone pushes me suddenly. Someone is squeezing my heart.'"
His parents decided Jakob had gone mad and advised him to stay home. Jakob was a tailor but stopped going out and confined himself to the four walls of his house, consumed by his strange, terrifying thoughts.
One morning, he didn’t get out of bed. Jakob was never one to oversleep, but today was different. When his mother went to his room to wake him, what she saw made her scream in horror. Her whole body trembled, and moments later, she collapsed to the floor in shock. Jakob’s neck was broken, his eyes were hanging out of their sockets, and his bed was soaked in blood. Jakob was dead.
Moments after his death, a fire broke out in his shop, engulfing it in flames until nothing but ashes remained.
For his parents, this was a devastating tragedy. His mother fell into a coma soon after and passed away not long after that. Jakob’s father, however, became determined to uncover the mystery of his son’s death.
He sought out a hermit living on a hill, renowned for his ability to reveal past and future truths. Taking one of Jakob’s shirts, he approached the hermit for answers.
What the hermit revealed was bone-chilling. He told Jakob’s father, "Your son had a habit of visiting cremation grounds. He would steal embers from burning pyres and use them to press his customers' clothes. Once, he even ate the flesh from the pyre of a young girl he had murdered himself. Evil spirits resided in his body, and the black cat he claimed to see was the harbinger of his gruesome death."
_
A/N:- This was pretty funny,😃 I hope you liked it.
About the Creator
Karan w.
Writer || Poet || Author
Author of "The Resonance–Two Together-Lost Forever
All worlds collapse the moment they touch the ground of reality—worlds I once created. Yet I find my bliss in the dissolution of my creations
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
The Station Without Trains
Seen (1) At the far end of a desert highway stood a train station that no map acknowledged. There were no tracks leading to it, no schedules posted, and no trains that ever arrived. Still, every evening at sunset, the lights turned on. Maya found the station by accident while driving cross-country to escape a life that felt too heavy. Her radio had gone silent miles ago, and her phone showed no signal. When she saw the station glowing in the distance, she pulled over, relieved to find signs of life. The station was clean, almost untouched by time. Wooden benches lined the platform, and an old clock hung above the entrance, forever stuck at 6:40. The air smelled of dust and iron, like a place waiting to be used. “Hello?” Maya called. No answer. She sat on a bench, telling herself she would leave in five minutes. But as the sun disappeared, the lights grew warmer, softer. Calm settled over her in a way she hadn’t felt in years. A man in a conductor’s uniform stepped out from the shadows. His clothes looked old-fashioned, but neatly pressed. His face was kind, though tired. “You’re early,” he said. “Early for what?” Maya asked. “For the train,” he replied. Maya frowned. “There are no tracks.” The man smiled gently. “Not all journeys need them.” He explained that this station was a place between leaving and arriving—a pause for those who were lost, grieving, or running from something they couldn’t name. People didn’t come here on purpose. They arrived when they needed stillness. “Does the train ever come?” Maya asked. “Yes,” he said. “But only once for each person.” Maya felt a tightness in her chest. “Where does it go?” The conductor looked at the horizon. “To the life you stopped believing in.” Maya thought of the dreams she had abandoned, the version of herself she no longer recognized. Tears surprised her, sliding down her face without warning. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” she whispered. The conductor nodded. “That’s why the train hasn’t arrived.” They sat in silence as the stars appeared. For the first time in years, Maya didn’t feel the urge to run. She felt seen. Slowly, the station lights dimmed. The conductor stood. “When you leave,” he said, “you won’t remember this place. But you’ll remember how you felt.” A distant sound echoed—not a train horn, but something close to a heartbeat. Maya blinked. She was back in her car, parked on the side of the empty highway. The station was gone. The road stretched endlessly ahead. But her chest felt lighter. She turned the key and drove forward, not knowing exactly where she was going—but certain, for the first time, that she was finally on the right track.
By Do bol ho jaaye 2 days ago in Horror
Bruce Lee and The God of War: Kuan Ti
It starts with love.. The Power to the God Of War and Wealth Walk into a Chinese restaurant (even in Oklahoma, USA), a Chinese police station, a kung fu martial arts studio or even a Chinese temple and you often see a red faced warrior holding a heavy quan-do (spear like weapon).
By WILD WAYNE : The Dragon King4 days ago in Chapters
Comments (4)
This is creepy and the cover photo is terrifying! The final solution is great!
SK Parihar from my reading of your work, I expect that you will have a great future in writing stories and novels congratulation
No, it wasn't funny at all. You played with my emotions. Here, I was developing a sense of emotion and sadness for Jakob, and there you declared him as a murderer. 😆 The ending was pretty dark, ok? Btw, that was such an amazing turn to the story. 🤝🙌👏 Keep it up 💖
Oh wow, and here I was, feeling sad for Jakob! He deserved it, lol. Loved your story!