Share a Story

Three great anthologies of stories and poetry to share with people of all ages.

Here's a short story I'd like to share with you.

Deja vu

Maggie knew she was dreaming. It was as though she was watching a TV programme or a film, but bizarrely she was looking through the eyes of the leading lady and the set was her sitting room. 

On her sofa sat an old woman, very sweet, a typical grandma. She was holding on her lap a very large, very old book. From this distance Maggie couldn’t make out the title, but it looked like one of those huge old family Bibles the Victorians used to keep, like the one her Grandmother, Mabel had inherited. As a child Maggie had loved to look at that Bible with all the names of Mabel's family with their dates of birth and sometimes, sadly of death. The details had been carefully written on the inside of the front cover by Mabel's father. There were a lot of names. Mabel had come from a large family of sixteen children, not all of whom had survived infancy. Suddenly the old woman looked up from the closed book and her sweet expression evaporated. She gazed menacingly at Maggie and said in a deep, hoarse voice, “I don’t like this house, I don’t like you!” 

Maggie didn’t know how to respond but before she could, the old woman thrust the book at her. Maggie took it and realised it certainly was not a Bible, quite the opposite in fact. On the cover was an embossed pentacle, the kind you saw in films about witchcraft or Satanism. Was the old woman a witch? She no longer seemed like someone’s loveable old granny. “Open the book” the woman demanded. Maggie didn’t know why, but she obeyed. Inside were black and white illustrations. As Maggie watched, the drawings started to move and come to life. She snapped the book shut but it grew hot in her hands, burning her skin. A hole began to appear along the cut edge of the pages, the paper blistered and there was a smell of burning. Maggie threw the book as far as she could into the darkest corner of the room. 

Slowly a shape, vaguely human started to materialise out of the darkness where the book had landed. As it took form and solidified Maggie realised it had the body of a man, an ancient, naked, withered old man with long lank hair and hands like claws the nails black with filth. Its expression demonic, it reached out for her and….. she woke up.

The next day Maggie was glad to get home from work. After her restless night and exhausting day she just wanted to curl up on the sofa with a glass of wine and a DVD. She kicked off her shoes and went straight to the kitchen where her two cats, Bert and Sidney were anxiously waiting to be fed. They circled around her legs, weaving in and out, demanding that she hurry up. They were soon satisfied with a plate of tuna each and she reached for the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Wine first she decided, food later, probably a microwave meal for one. As she carried the glass to the sitting room and opened the door a voice rasped, “I don’t like this house!”

That's the end of my story but what happened next? You tell me. 

Post your ideas below.