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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Horror
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 10/30/2024
"The Haunting Of Professor Blackwood"
Born 2010, M, from Jackson , Mississippi, United StatesThe Haunting of Professor Blackwood
Ravenwood University, with its ivy-clad walls and towering spires, always felt like a place where the past lingered just below the surface. My office, tucked away in the depths of Ivy Tower, was my sanctuary—a chaotic haven of ancient manuscripts, obscure relics, and the thick scent of history. It was here, on the eve of Halloween, that my fate was sealed.
The storm outside raged with a ferocity that seemed almost supernatural, matching the turmoil within my mind. An ancient manuscript had captured my attention—a text so forbidden, so shrouded in mystery, that its very presence felt like a challenge. It described a ritual to summon spirits from the abyss, and despite the warnings, I was determined to uncover its secrets. Academic arrogance, perhaps, but curiosity had always been my driving force.
I gathered the required items: a black candle inscribed with ancient runes, a piece of obsidian chalk, and an old hand mirror, rumored to have belonged to a necromancer. In the dim light of my study, I drew a precise circle on the cold stone floor, the chalk lines pulsating with dark energy. The candle's flickering flame cast sinister shadows that seemed to dance with a life of their own.
As I began the incantation, my voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of fear, the room grew colder. The air became thick, oppressive, and the mirror's surface began to cloud. From its depths, a figure started to emerge—a woman, her face gaunt, her eyes hollow and filled with an ancient sorrow. Her tattered dress billowed as if caught in an unseen wind, and her hair hung in long, matted strands.
"Why have you summoned me from the abyss?" she demanded, her voice an ethereal whisper that chilled me to the core.
I tried to explain, but her gaze was icy, and a cacophony of eerie whispers filled the room. The shadows on the walls twisted into grotesque shapes, clawing at the air as if trying to drag me into their darkness. I was paralyzed, an invisible force holding me in place.
"You seek forbidden knowledge, but some truths are too dark for the living," she hissed, stepping through the mirror. The temperature continued to drop, frost spreading across the floor. I felt an icy grip tightening around my heart, the cold seeping into my very soul.
"You have opened a door to the abyss, and now the darkness will claim you," she intoned, her voice reverberating with an ancient, malevolent power. Her spectral hand reached out, and as it closed around my heart, my vision began to blur. I felt my life force being drawn into the void, and the last thing I saw before the darkness consumed me was her hollow eyes, filled with a vengeful hunger.
The next morning, the storm had passed, leaving an eerie calm over Ravenwood University. My office was found undisturbed, the forbidden manuscript open on my desk, and the black candle reduced to a pool of wax. Despite exhaustive searches, I was never seen again. My disappearance became a chilling legend, a cautionary tale whispered among students and faculty.
On stormy nights, when the wind howled through the ancient corridors, it was said that my ghost wandered the halls, my face etched with eternal terror. Those who listened closely claimed to hear my desperate whispers, a haunting reminder of the perils of seeking knowledge that is best left undiscovered.
"The Haunting Of Professor Blackwood"(Joshua Swinney)
The Haunting of Professor Blackwood
Ravenwood University, with its ivy-clad walls and towering spires, always felt like a place where the past lingered just below the surface. My office, tucked away in the depths of Ivy Tower, was my sanctuary—a chaotic haven of ancient manuscripts, obscure relics, and the thick scent of history. It was here, on the eve of Halloween, that my fate was sealed.
The storm outside raged with a ferocity that seemed almost supernatural, matching the turmoil within my mind. An ancient manuscript had captured my attention—a text so forbidden, so shrouded in mystery, that its very presence felt like a challenge. It described a ritual to summon spirits from the abyss, and despite the warnings, I was determined to uncover its secrets. Academic arrogance, perhaps, but curiosity had always been my driving force.
I gathered the required items: a black candle inscribed with ancient runes, a piece of obsidian chalk, and an old hand mirror, rumored to have belonged to a necromancer. In the dim light of my study, I drew a precise circle on the cold stone floor, the chalk lines pulsating with dark energy. The candle's flickering flame cast sinister shadows that seemed to dance with a life of their own.
As I began the incantation, my voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of fear, the room grew colder. The air became thick, oppressive, and the mirror's surface began to cloud. From its depths, a figure started to emerge—a woman, her face gaunt, her eyes hollow and filled with an ancient sorrow. Her tattered dress billowed as if caught in an unseen wind, and her hair hung in long, matted strands.
"Why have you summoned me from the abyss?" she demanded, her voice an ethereal whisper that chilled me to the core.
I tried to explain, but her gaze was icy, and a cacophony of eerie whispers filled the room. The shadows on the walls twisted into grotesque shapes, clawing at the air as if trying to drag me into their darkness. I was paralyzed, an invisible force holding me in place.
"You seek forbidden knowledge, but some truths are too dark for the living," she hissed, stepping through the mirror. The temperature continued to drop, frost spreading across the floor. I felt an icy grip tightening around my heart, the cold seeping into my very soul.
"You have opened a door to the abyss, and now the darkness will claim you," she intoned, her voice reverberating with an ancient, malevolent power. Her spectral hand reached out, and as it closed around my heart, my vision began to blur. I felt my life force being drawn into the void, and the last thing I saw before the darkness consumed me was her hollow eyes, filled with a vengeful hunger.
The next morning, the storm had passed, leaving an eerie calm over Ravenwood University. My office was found undisturbed, the forbidden manuscript open on my desk, and the black candle reduced to a pool of wax. Despite exhaustive searches, I was never seen again. My disappearance became a chilling legend, a cautionary tale whispered among students and faculty.
On stormy nights, when the wind howled through the ancient corridors, it was said that my ghost wandered the halls, my face etched with eternal terror. Those who listened closely claimed to hear my desperate whispers, a haunting reminder of the perils of seeking knowledge that is best left undiscovered.
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