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 Believe in Superstitions
 Posted: Nov 7 2017, 11:44 PM

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“Believe in Superstitions”


Black space. A void.

There is sound of a light mounted on the camera being switched on, illuminating a door before the viewers. With a hesitant hello, the cameraman reaches out his hand slowly and pushes it open. It groans as it leads him to an empty hallway. It is difficult to see beyond an arm’s length.

It is quiet. Still.

Something scuttles around noisily. Left of the camera, behind, right, behind, left — never in front in full view. The camera backtracks in an attempt to run away from the looming shadows. The cameraman gasps, his breathing now heavy.

Too late. There it is again, the sound of quick movements across the floor.

Thump, thump, thump!

Urgent. So urgent. The camera shivers.







Then still.


The camera swings around and there, on the floor on all fours is a woman in tattered white. The cameraman lets out a frightened yelp before falling on his behind. The camera drops on his lap and comes face to face with The Banshee. A sorrowful smile paints her black lips.


She flicks her tongue with a sickening grin and snaps her jaw as she crawls closer. Right arm over her head, then left. Her dark hair shadows over her face. Her bones, the floor, the walls — everything creaks. Her movement, slow yet with a powerful purpose, seems to have hypnotised the cameraman now and reduced him to a whimpering, immobile state. She reaches out to him with ravenous eyes.


The cameraman begs for mercy, crying in desperation to be spared. And The Banshee laughs as their screams both merge as one in the abyssal hallway.

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