Original Works



I was lost… lost in the dark eerie forest. This was not your ordinary forest with cute rabbits, deer families, and an orchestra of bird chirping and rustling of leaves. This was the kind of forest you never, ever want to be lost in. And though it may seem extremely wise to not venture into it, I did not have a choice.

On the other side of the forest was a town with fresh fruits and meat. In order to have food on my table, I had to go through the forest to buy some. Everyday, I and a few others would follow a small path that ran in between tall trees with roots that were waiting to trip passersby.  Along our journey, we would hear strange howls and loud growls, but as long as we followed the path we were safe.

Unfortunately for me that day, I was held up at town. There was a minor dispute and the few that came with me left without me. I was not going to ask them to stay, because nighttime in the forest was the worst. So, I sent them on their way.

After the little problem was settled, I contemplated on going home. It was a wiser idea to stay in an inn for the night and head back home the next day, but the thought of my hungry pregnant wife and son made me choose the riskier choice.

As I slung the little knapsack over my shoulder, I tightened my grip on my torch and started my journey. The forest was scarily quiet at night, as there were no chirping of crickets and hooting of owls. There was also no wind, and everything stood silently still. The only sound that I could hear was my footsteps and my breathing.

Nightime in the forest was like a walk in a dark room. The trees blocked out the moon and the torch was all the light I had. On several occasions, I caught a pair of eyes watching me. But when I waved my torch in their direction, they disappeared.

It did not take me long to conclude that the fire was protecting me. It also did not take me long to realize that I was lost. I had been walking for hours and I had not even seen a glimpse of my little village.

At that hour of revelation, I had no problem accepting the facts. Being lost was a definite fact, but being alive when morning came was not yet determined. I knew I had to try and survive the night for another shot of returning home.

Since there was no use walking, I stopped by a tree and tried to build a fire. The fire on my torch was not going to last much longer, and I needed it to keep me safe. Gathering as much dry leaves and sticks around me, I wasted no time in making a bonfire that lit up enough of my surroundings.

When the light spread out and the fire on my torch died away, I noticed dozens of eyes disappearing into the darkness. Were they watching me or was that just my imagination? I couldn’t tell the difference, all I could do was sit as close to the fire as possible and pray that day would soon arrive.

Despite being so tired, I kept my eyes open and watched the flames flicker. The fire was getting smaller as the minutes ticked by, but there was nothing I could do about it. As the eyes began returning, I knew my fight for a different fate was a losing battle.

When the fire finally sizzled out, I hugged my legs and buried my head between my arms. I could hear them walking towards me, their footsteps light but their breath heavy. Death was so close, and I lost all power to run. My legs, arms, and head were all locked in position, leaving my back exposed to the creature that was now behind me.

It bended towards me and I felt its warm breath against my neck. The hairs on my arms shot up immediately as I felt the creature trace its sharp finger down my spine. A few seconds later, I felt a sharp pain as the creature clawed across my back. My lips felt too numb to even utter a cry.

I could feel my blood soaking into my shirt, and yet I made no move. I shut my eyes tighter and when I felt too tired to anticipate my death, I slipped into a dreamless state.

When my eyes finally opened, I did not know where I was. The sun was up and I was sitting in front of a pile of ashes. It actually took me a while to realize I was not dead and that I was still in the forest. I also saw the path leading home a few feet away and I could not believe I was so close. Though, it was much harder believing I was still alive.

As I got on my feet, the searing pain in my back sent me on my knees. My hand trembled as I reached to my back to feel what I could not see. The shirt I wore was soaked in dark red, and the flesh on my back was caked with blood. I was glad I did not bleed out, but the clogging of my blood for such deep wounds terrified me.

The memories of the night before immediately came flooding back, and everything that happened imprinted something in me. It was as though the three gashes on my back was a mark… a mark of something I did not know or could ever imagine.

If only I kept the fire burning, if only I made my bonfire bigger, if only I persevered long enough I could have reached home with my torch still ablaze.

Now… there is nothing I can do. Something feels missing, something feels wrong, and I will never be able to place a finger on it.


What does this story relate to besides scary monsters in the dark? Take a guess!

I know this is strange, but when I was writing this story I had one word in mind…. passion.

We all have a passion, whether it is reading, dancing, hiking, running, gaming, etc. Our passion is our escape, our painkiller, and most definitely our entertainment. Some of us have a bigger passion and some more extravagant, but to each of us they are important.

However, a time will come when we enter the forest of work, family, loans and responsibilities, and our passion is slowly sidelined. When we realize that we are losing our passion, we try to rekindle it with a bonfire, but ultimately it fades off. Reality then creeps up behind us and marks us as a passionless soul, sometimes wondering what are we doing with life.

If only we kept the fire burning, if only we protected our passion by investing more time into it, if only we held on long enough instead of just giving it up because ‘there were more important things to do’. If only…

Fortunately for us, we can still get it back! We just need to find the passion we lost and light a new torch 🙂

Anyways, leave a comment below and let me know what you think! This story is a another strange metaphor, but I hope it communicated well enough 🙂

© 2013 Jeyna Grace

(For more short stories, click HERE)

Original Works

The Family Guy

The Family Guy

“I’m Monica Rivers from Channel 4, wishing you a happy holiday!”

The news ended with the typical credit roll while Monica Rivers sat at the desk trying to look busy. Little did she know that she would soon be reporting her first, of the mass holiday murders, in her news-casting career. She didn’t have to worry though, it was not happening in her country this year.

As he switched off the television, he smiled to himself. He was ready to leave his chilly home and move to somewhere warmer, just for a couple of weeks. It was sort of a ritual, that every year, he would pack his bags and go on a little trip; a little trip that wouldn’t end so well for many.

Being that he looked innocent with his chubby face, he got away with almost every crime he committed. No one knew he was wanted in countries all over the world, because no one suspected him at all. How could this sweet, quiet, fat man, be the evil of such heinous crimes? Oh, no, it couldn’t be him alright, and that was what everyone said.

The FBI had announced that they were looking for a middle aged man, who expressed a special fondness for families. They suspected him not to have any family, which would suggest that he traveled alone, and met his followers only at the site of the crime. On top of that, they knew he only acted on one special season of the year, and they never failed to caution the general public when the holidays came around. To his surprise, these profilers were right about him, proving that TV shows never over exaggerated their skills.

Since he was especially fond of families, his favorite holiday of the year was Christmas. He loved how families would come together, and celebrate a day which had no significance to some of them. He also loved the presents and he loved the food. That explained why he was growing more side ways than upwards as the years went by.

This year, he decided to pay special visits to the families in a little town called Oakwood. He was going to slip into their brightly decorated houses at night, steal the children from their beds, and drained the parents dry. He would then bag the children and keep them for the rest of the year. What he would do with them, well, I won’t tell you just yet.

Being that he was a very organized man, he entered Oakwood as a traveler, friendly and harmless. He made a small inn his stay for the coming weeks and worked out his ‘visitation’ plans; who to visit first and who to visit last. The order never really mattered though, as long as the entire town was covered.

One would wonder how one man could murder and kidnap everyone in a town. They suspected he worked in a team of course, but they were wrong. There was one thing they did not know about him, one thing they would not even believe.

You see, this cute chubby man was no man at all. The misconception of vampires being tall, dark and handsome, has even made the supernatural believers debunk the idea all together. Instead, they have chosen to believe he was a pedophilia murderer leading a group of mad men. Though he was slightly disappointed with their assumptions, he could only blame the media for painting such false impressions. No, vampires weren’t all tall, dark and handsome, in fact, most of them looked fairly ordinary, and they never even attempted to lead a normal life.

Once again, how does he manage to wipe out an entire town? That question is answered.

But what did he do with the children? After killing the parents and washing down his dinner with the glass of milk they had provided, he would take the children, tell them they have been naughty this year and convince them that they can make up for it and get the toys they wanted. He would then pack them in red sacks and bring them home.

Since he lived in the North pole, humans were a rare sight. Hence, some of the children would be his food for the rest of the year, before he went to collect more next Christmas. He also made use of them, turning some to be his little slaves. Most of them would help around the house, while others made toys to lure in the new prey.

Unfortunately for him, he had to feed some of the useless ones to them as well. It may seem rather cruel, but if elves wouldn’t work on an empty stomach, what more these little monsters.

Over the years, this chubby vampire has been doing the same routine of gathering slaves and building an army, and no one knew how to stop him. Maybe this is because the children of the world constantly called him Santa, thinking he was the man who could make all their dreams come true.

Well, who could blame them, it was another common misconception after all. And who knew blood stained clothes could become a seasonal costume.


Wait, what? Vampire Santa?

My friends and I were talking about how ‘Vampire Santa’ could end up becoming a film when the cinema runs out of cheesy stuff. I bet we are not the first to come up with such a ridiculous notion, especially when the conversation started over a Facebook picture of me under a chimney.

I hope this story isn’t as cliche as the idea though. Do let me know what you think!

And, happy holidays!

© 2012 Jeyna Grace

(For more short stories, click HERE)