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The Bloody Book

The Bloody Book

It was a bloody book, bound in human flesh. No one was suppose to find it, because in it were the names of his victims scrawled in crooked black ink. But on one unfortunate night, his book slipped from under his cloak and landed on the damp grass of someone’s lawn. He didn’t notice it missing until he arrived home, and by then he could not do anything. Morning was arriving and he would just have to wait for the book to return to him. It always did.

Giselle had just returned from a school trip; one her school organized to make up for a prom-less year due to the lack of funds. She did not complain like the rest, because she did not care much about prom. She was busy sending in her applications to the universities of her choice and studying for her final exams, and she had no time for such trivial events.

As she was heading up to her front porch that afternoon, she noticed a book wrapped in brown cloth lying on the grass. Naturally, she picked it up. But before she could check what book it was, her younger brother ran from the house and gave her a hug.

Giselle and Sam were rather close. They once had another sister, but she died when she was eight. The police said it was an accident, and even though they believed otherwise they could not prove it. Carla was a smart girl, even at the age of eight. She was the responsible little girl that scolded Sam for climbing on things, so how could she have died falling from her bedroom window? The thought of an intruder was frightening, but there was no proof of that either.

After Sam was done hugging Giselle, claiming he had missed her, she went to her room and started to unpack. Sam helped a little before he left for a cartoon show on TV. When Giselle had finally cleared everything up, she went straight to the cloth wrapped book.

When Giselle removed enough cloth to see what she was holding in her hands, she dropped it. After staring at it  for a long time, Giselle convinced herself that the cover was made out of un-cleaned animal skin and the pages had been soaked in red paint. That was the only logical explanation to the hideous book on her bedroom floor.

Picking it up she was tempted to throw the book away, but her curiosity got the best of her and she found herself flipping through the pages. The first few pages were written in such horrid handwriting that it was impossible to read, but the next few were much better.

‘She was a pretty thing. Big blue eyes and long brown hair. I married her when we were 17. Two years later, she  gave birth to my son and we were happy. I was happy.

I was happy and it made him angry. He whispered horrible things in my ear and I couldn’t shut him up.

That night… I took a kitchen knife and silenced my crying son. The next morning, my wife woke me up to the dead baby in the bloody crib. She wanted to call the police but I told her she couldn’t because I killed him. She called me crazy, and that was the last word she ever said.

My blade had taken Miranda and little Gary to this bloody page.’

After reading that page, Giselle immediately put the book down. There were so many pages filled with that same handwriting and she did not want to read it anymore. She found her hands shaking as she reached for the phone, but before she dialled 911, she wondered if the book was merely a prank. Could it be? Her thumb hovered unsteadily over the number 9, and when she finally decided to make the call, the front door slammed shut and she jumped to her feet.

“Sam!” Giselle immediately called.

She could feel fear creeping up her spine and the hair on her back was slowly rising. “Sam!” Giselle yelled.

“What?” Sam came running into her room casually.

“Did you hear the door?”

“Mum and dad are home,” Sam merely replied.

At that moment, Giselle felt stupid. All she could do was give her brother a weak smile as he looked at her worriedly.

That night, Giselle could not swallow anything that was on her dinner plate. She had been chewing on a piece of steak for so long, that it was now dry and tasteless in her mouth. Her parents were busy talking about getting a new car that they did not even notice Sam slipping away and returning to the TV. After she was tired of attempting to fill her growling stomach, she excused herself and returned to her room.

There, she reached for the phone once again, but she hesitated longer this time. Maybe it was prank, she thought. Wanting to prove herself right, she took the book from under the bed, where she previously hid it, and flipped through the pages.

Randomly stopping at one page, she read silently.

‘He had black hair and dark skin. He was my colleague, a good friend, and my bowling buddy. That night, we won our first bowling competition against our rival company, and we were happy. I was happy.

I was happy and it made him angry. He whispered horrible things in my ear and I couldn’t shut him up.

That night, I went over to his house to celebrate our winning. And when he had drank too much, I took my shiny blue bowling ball and shut him up. I did not stay after it happened, and I left town.

My blue bowling ball had taken Brad to this bloody page.’

That night, Giselle couldn’t sleep. She found herself clutching the phone, tempted to call the police. At the same time, she convinced herself to speak to her parents first. They would know what to do, right?

When the next morning came, Giselle did not recall falling asleep. Her mum woke her up rather violently as the alarm had been going off for 30 minutes. When she finally reached school, she was too tired to think about anything… even the book.

After school, she hurried home hoping to catch her parents before they left for the day. Her dad ran his own metal factory and he went to work at random hours, her mum was a housewife and a freelance landscaper, she usually disappeared after lunch to pick Sam up from school.

That noon, Giselle returned home a little too late as both her parents’ cars were gone. Sighing to herself, she headed up to her room and reached for the phone. She thought of calling her parents… and the police came to mind. But as that thought came and left, Giselle had the strangest urge to pick up that bloody book and read another page.

Not really knowing what she was doing, Giselle felt herself going for the book and diving straight into its contents. This time, she did not stop at one story but she went on. She kept reading till the clock by her bedside ticked 8 o’clock, and only then she wondered why her mum had not called her down for dinner. Heck, it was 2 hours past dinner time!

Thinking if she should go down stairs and check, Giselle decided to read one more page before she did.

‘She had bright brown eyes and curly long hair. She was a pretty and clever girl… and she was only eight. I liked her a lot, she was not my favourite but I liked her. We went to the park one evening and she made me laugh. She said the cleverest things and it made me happy.

I was happy that evening, and it made him angry. He whispered horrible things in my ears and I couldn’t shut him up.

That night, I woke her up from her sleep. She asked me what was going on and I said I wanted to play a game. I brought her to her window and told her to sit on the ledge. I promised her I wouldn’t let her go, but I did. I went back to bed after that.

My promise had taken Carla to this bloody page. My dear darling Carla.’

It had returned once again, that same fear she felt the night before. This time, it was far worse and almost paralyzing  Giselle couldn’t move or think; she could not even control her breathing as she felt her heart racing madly in her chest.

Carla was indeed murdered… murdered by someone they knew. Someone close. When Giselle had finally managed to snap out of her frozen state, she reached for the phone on her bed. That was when her room door opened and standing at the door was the person she least expected.

“What are you doing in your room, Giselle? Is everything o.k?” Her father asked, as the darkness in the hallway hid half of his face.

Why was her father checking up on her?

He never checks up on her.


Someone I know (same person who drew the background of the above banner) made a catchy creepy statement on Facebook, painting an image of a bloody book bound in human flesh. Immediately, I knew that book would make a good story. So… after a good response from Bobby, I decided to write another horror story.

I hope you guys liked this one too! Do let me know what you think!

© 2013 Jeyna Grace

(For more short stories, click HERE)


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