Confessions of a Teenage Body Shamer #4

A few weeks later, I sat waiting for my friends in the school cafeteria. It was unusual for Katie and me to arrive there separately. When I searched for her in her classroom, she’d already left. I scanned the room, making sure I had a view of all the entrances, yet neither Katie nor any of my other friends walked through any of them. Suddenly Kasey appeared – we made eye contact, and I warmly waved at her.

Recently, I spent afternoons at her house working on our school project. Unexpectedly, she’d become a great friend of mine, even though we barely spoke to each other at school.
At most, we would acknowledge each other. However, we would speak over the phone regularly, and through this, we got to know each other better – which made me realize that Kasey was not like how we thought she’d be at all!

Katie and the rest of my friends found this new acquaintanceship super weird. They would readily make remarks whenever I would greet Kasey. Once, when Katie was feeling especially mean, she made snarky comments about our friendship – of course, I simply laughed it off. I knew she wouldn’t mean them, but the insults became annoyingly unbearable, and I tried to avoid bumping into Kasey whenever I was with my friends.

The cafeteria became a bit noisier. I looked over my shoulder to see Katie and our group of friends laughing as they made their way towards me. Katie’s face sobered up as soon as she saw me.


“Hi, where have you been?”

“Around,” Katie answered vaguely. She shared a look and a giggle with our friends sitting at the table.

“Around? What’s that supposed to mean?” I was confused about why they were leaving me out all of a sudden.

Katie looked at me whilst rolling her eyes. “I mean around, Emma. Do you really need to know everything?”

I was taken aback by how harsh her tone was. “Everything? I literally just asked one question, Katie, it’s not such a big deal.”

She scoffed. “I swear ever since you started hanging out with Fatty K you have been acting so weird! I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“What are you even talking about? I don’t hang out with her.”

“Are you serious, right now,” her bitter laugh made me freeze. I started feeling queasy, fidgeting with my fingers. Katie had a blank look on her face, completely unreadable, which made me feel threatened. “Come on, Emma. We have all seen how you greet her in the hallways, even now you waved to her.”
Around the table, everyone nodded their heads in agreement with what Katie was saying. Her face lit up. “Wait a second, don’t tell me that you’re actually friends with her?”

Looking around the table, everyone nodded their heads in agreement with what Katie was saying. Her face lit up. “Wait a second, don’t tell me that you’re actually friends with her?”

Stunned, I felt the room spinning around me. Not saying anything – unable to find the words, Katie and the rest of the table broke out into a fit of laughter. I gulped nervously, feeling uncomfortable as they laughed at me. I could feel the blood rush to my ears as tears welled up in my eyes. My throat was closing up, making it hard for me to breathe. I couldn’t stay there any longer – I had to escape – but I couldn’t move at all. It was like I had lost complete control over my body…

What was wrong with me? Why did I just sit there like an idiot? Why didn’t I just deny it? That would have been better than to have them laugh at me.

Katie steadied herself, “well this is rich. Our little Emma is all grown up and making friends with our school’s resident Fatty.” She checked her wristwatch, putting her arm around my shoulder. Leaning in too-close-for-comfort to my ear. She whispered, with a hot breath that sent shivers down my spine, “I really think you should see what’s about to happen next. I think it’ll put you back on the right path.”

Unable to look at her, she tucked my hair behind my ear. Once she finished speaking, a commotion started on the other side of the cafeteria, right where Kasey sat. I looked up just in time to see a tray of lasagna thrown on her head. I swear I gasped, but it was lost in the raucous laughter erupting in the cafeteria. Kasey stood up to defend herself – her protests were silenced with a yoghurt cup thrown at her face.

“Go ahead, Em. Go defend your friend, she looks like she needs your help,” Katie said loudly standing up from next to me, making me look up at her. She looked at me with such malice in her eyes that made me feel so intimidated – it made me feel so small. I wanted to stand up, I really did. But I was frozen to my spot. I was scared that if I moved right then, everyone that was throwing food at Kasey would turn their attack on me in an instant.

A high pitched scream.

It was Kasey’s last warning for them to stop… and everyone did. Until Katie walked towards her at an agonizingly slow pace. Picking up a can of soda, she opened it – the slow fizz of the can synonymous with the cocking of a gun – and poured all the contents over Kasey’s head. Katie’s speciality.

My heart sank to the ground as I made eye contact with Kasey. Her entire face was covered in food, but I could easily see the humiliation on her face. But nothing stung more than her look of sheer disappointment directed at me. Kasey’s glassy eyes were the last thing I saw before she ran out of the cafeteria, fiercely pushing through the crowd that shattered the silence with a piercing, mocking laughter.

Confessions of a Teenage Body Shamer #3

Kasey was nicer than I thought… she wasn’t at all how we made her out to be.

To read the previous chapter of Confessions of a Teenage Body Shamer, click here. Enjoy!

Taken by @aaronburden. Courtesy of

The first thing I noticed when I walked into Kasey’s house the next day was how different her house was to mine.

The smell of homemade cookies filled my nostrils as soon as I stepped into her house. It made my mouth water and gave me a warm feeling in my stomach.

The décor itself was a complete contrast to ours; our house was decorated with a modernized style, everything in Kasey’s house screamed antique. From the furniture to the colour of the wallpaper. Now this wasn’t necessarily bad, in fact her house looked so cosy that I felt more at home in the first five minutes there than I ever had in my own house.

black and white table lamp on brown wooden table
Taken by @davexmit. Courtesy of

Kasey’s mother was not at all how I expected her to be either. She was a petite lady that wore glasses with a frame that seemed too small for her face, and she was one of the kindest people I had ever met (to date). She greeted me with the most welcoming, and contagious, smile.

I followed Kasey up to her room after her mom chased us up with a batch of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. When I stepped into her room, I nearly did a double take seeing a poster of one of my favourite bands taped to her wall.

“You listen to The Gray?” I asked her, deeply perplexed at never having met anyone who liked their music or who even listened to them.

“Of course,” she replied, motioning for me to take a seat at her desk. “They’re one of my favourite bands. Why do you ask?”

“It’s surprising, that’s all.”

“Why? Because you didn’t think someone like me would listen to a band like them?” Kasey questions, accusingly.

“What? No, it’s not like that.” I replied, a bit flustered. She didn’t say anything in return, instead she motioned for us to start working, which we did, in an awkward silence.

We worked for about two hours before deciding to take a break. I sat back in the desk chair and replied to a text I got from Katie.

silver MacBook on gray textile
Taken by @mialiamani. Courtesy of

are you at fatty k’s? She had texted me. I looked at Kasey who was eating a cookie, her attention focused on her phone screen.

Yeah. I replied. Katie’s response came no longer than a minute later.

don’t forget to dig up some dirt on her!

Not knowing how to reply, I locked my phone and looked at Kasey, who’s eating her second cookie. I pulled a grossed out face.

“Do you know how many Carbs are in one chocolate chip cookie?”

“I don’t know and I do not need to know,” she answered, matter-of-factly. She pushes the plate of cookies towards me. “But I do know that you should have one of these.”

Reluctantly, I took one and broke it in half before placing a small piece into my mouth. My eyes widened.

plate of four chocolate cookies
Taken by @picoftasty. Courtesy of

“It’s good, right?” Kasey asks and I find myself nodding, while eating another piece. “See, there’s much more to life than the amount of carbs that are in one chocolate chip cookie.” She jokes and I find myself laughing…

Unknowingly, I started to let my guard down. Kasey was nicer than I thought she’d be and after only thirty minutes of talking to her I felt more comfortable around her than my own friends. She wasn’t at all how we made her out to be.

After rolling in laughter for a while I asked, “Why are you being nice to me?” A silent, yet warm, cloud fallen over us.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Personally, I think you’re really cool. And honestly speaking, I don’t think you’re truly like Katie and the others.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, I’ll let you figure that out.”

She refrained from saying anything else. That night, as I lay in my bed, her words replayed in my head and so did some of my memories with my friends.

For some reason, those few words made me question all my friendships.

To be continued…

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Chilling Quotes from Deadly Female Killers

“Like nicknames, archetypes can be useful organizational tools, but they, too, often end up suppressing more nuanced ideas of evil and darkness in femininity” – Tori Telfer, Lady Killers: Deadly Women Throughout History. Disturbing quotes from some of the world’s most notorious female killers. Travel throughout history and discover the motives, the stories and the mystery behind these deadly women. (TW: this post deals with topics that are not suitable for sensitive readers. Reader discretion is advised)

🕸️“I like hurting people.” – Mary Flora Bell

🕸️“I killed them all, men, women and babies, and I hugged the babies to my breast. But I am not guilty of murder.” – Clementine Bernabet

🕸️“They didn’t even look like people… I didn’t relate to Sharon Tate as being anything but a store mannequin… [Tate] sounded just like an IBM machine… She kept begging and pleading and pleading and begging [for the life of her unborn child], and I got sick of listening to her, so I stabbed her.” – Susan Atkins

🕸️“I do not feel bad after killing anyone because I see it as a job I paid to do.” – Mariam Abiola

Abiola was an assigned hitman for the Eiye cult group in Nigeria. During her arrest in 2018, she confessed to the killings of at least 4 people. In an interview Abiola said: “I do not feel bad after killing anyone because I see it as a job I (am) paid to do.”

🔪“If you would gain a throne and hold it, fear not to make of human skulls thy stepping stones.” – Taitu Betul

🔪“I love the madness. Not when I was a little girl, but from the age of 15 I’ve loved seeing things fall down around me.” – La Diabla of Medillin

🔪“I just started shooting. That’s it. I just did it for the fun of it.” – Brenda Spencer

🔪“While my victim was drinking an elixir I had prepared, I got an axe, placed myself behind my victim and, summoning my strength, struck the back of her neck – a rattle, nothing else. … It was a master stroke that almost beheaded her.” – Leonarda Cianciulli

🔪“My husband Yury wouldn’t give me money for vodka.” – Irina Gaidamachuk

Given the nickanme of ‘Satan in a Skirt’, Gaidamachuk is considered one of Russia’s worst woman serial killers. She was charged with 17 counts of murder and 1 attempted murder. During her eight year reign of terror, she killed 17 elderly women in order to rob them. She would pretend to be a social worker so they would let her in to their flats. She would often kill the women with an axe or a hammer. Her motive for killing the women was to steal money for vodka. Gaidamachuk was an alcoholic, whose husband, Yury, refused to give her in fear that it would enable her addiction.

🧛‍♀️“I am a devil and I will burn them.” – Lillian B. Thornman

🧛‍♀️“I want my fun. I need you to get my fun.” – Joanna Dennehy

🧛‍♀️“I would sit on the balcony and talk to them in the flowerpots,” – Sabine Hilschenz

Hilschenz received a 15-year sentence for infanticide in 2006. She was found guilty for eight accounts of manslaughter, for routinely killing her children. She told investigators that she would not outright harm the newborns, but would leave them to die after giving birth to them alone. Investigators found remains of the infants wrapped in plastic, and stuffed in flowerpots, buckets and a garden fish tank. Hilschenz was an alcoholic, who admitted to not having her addiction under control. She would become incredibly drunk during labour, so as to not remember whether she birthed the babies alive or dead. Her husband, Oliver Hilschenz said in a police interrogation: “I thought that she had a weight problem,” and denied any knowledge of the pregnancies.

Reference: Unknown Gender History & All That’s Interesting

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#STORYTIME: Looking at the Sky atop the Mountain☁️

Looking at the sky, here atop the mountain, is a different experience for most.

Taken from @raffalel on

Looking at the sky, here atop the mountain, is a different experience for most.

It feels different. Almost like an out-of-body experience.

I looked at the sky turn an array of colours. It went from the calm and sleep inducing colour of black, to navy blue. Which then turned into a purple and then to a pink.

The first evidence of light coming to wake you up.

I saw the sky turn from that comforting purple-pink, to its fiery reds and oranges. These colours shone so brightly that there was no point in sleeping anymore.

The little streaks of yellow that accompanied the fiery colours, extended to the ends of the sky. Reaching far and wide to spread more of the colours.

This soon turned into a light blue sky with little fluffs of white in it.

The clouds looked at peace, on their leisurely stroll with the light breeze, but there was a dark figure lurking behind them.

A figure, so dark and gloomy, began consuming the light and fluffy clouds, one by one, turning the sky dark and lifeless.


The wind picked up and became icy. Blowing so harshly that the trees and plants uprooted themselves.

I ran to some boulders to try and take cover from the brewing storm, but to no avail. I was cold, wet and afraid.

The rain started to pick up and belt against the earth, causing the topsoil to break and wash away.

The rain: not liquid for long, and turned into solid ice that fell harder and faster.


What was that?


I looked left and right at what the noise and sudden light could possibly be.


rain storming GIF
Taken from

I tried covering my ears to muffle the sounds, but it was no use. The more I covered my ears, the louder the sounds became. The more I squeezed my eyes shut, the brighter the light. The more I curled in on myself to retain some heat, the colder the wind became.

I screamed everytime the cymbals of the sky crashed. I flinched everytime the lightning hit the ground close to me.

Yet, I couldn’t do anything but sit there and watch as the storm grew more intense.

I gave up on muffling out the sounds and blocking out the light and cold. I chose sleep over survival. I chose to run away instead of facing the storm.

A few hours passed and I woke up to birds chirping in the distance, opening my eyes to the grass next to me.

It was wet, with some droplets on the fine blades of grass, but it looked at peace and not as though it had just weathered a storm.

I closed my eyes and rolled onto my back. Squeezing my eyes shut so that the image of what was left of the storm could not hurt me.

I had a feeling that the storm subsided and that it was safe to open my eyes. Hesitant, I opened my eyes to see what words fail to describe.

Beautiful and colourful, that nothing could be compared to it.


The sky had turned from a dark and terrifying Davy’s grey, to its fiery reds and oranges again.

Amazed at the image laid out in front of me, I started crying out of joy that the sun had decided to make an appearance.

I saw that beautiful fire turn into sweet and lulling purples and pinks. Which then turned into a navy blue and eventually into the sleep-inducing black.

Just seeing the sunset after the storm, was truly thrilling, but also comforting. I had truly come out of the storm.

I laid there and continued to stare at the sky littered with stars, admiring the beauty of the sky.

It truly is a great experience looking at the sky atop the mountain.

silhouette of mountain under cloudy blue sky photo taken during sunset
Taken from @jdiegoph on

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#SHADY: The White Rabbit Needs A Chill Pill

Time is a fickle game. It inspires humans to change, to adapt, to reflect.

Art by @melanivugich on Instagram

Time is such a funny thing. It is funny how it constantly moves, with nature’s limbs and breath acting as a handler, yet it feels so unmoving and still.

In the grand scheme of things, it was ‘just yesterday’ when slavery ended, when cars become functioning essentials. Imam Abdullah Haron mysteriously ‘died’ and the Internet became an additional section to the human brain.

Our world has had a few growth spurts in a truly short time. It must be exhausted – do you feel the same?


Recently falling part of the mundane (and inevitable) nine-to-five species of human beings, I’ve come to realise just how quickly the world has been conditioned to move. Look at all the inventions that have come to fruition over the span of a few years. We are a curious bunch – always wanting to solve the next puzzle, cure the disease, reach the higher peaks. It’s innate.

But what is the rush?

Are we afraid of some kind of impending doom, that we speedily climb those mountains trying to find some solution to why there are just never enough hours in the day? To go back in our memory so we can make the probability in the ‘I should have said this’ and the ‘I should have said that’ come true? Is time our enemy? Is the concept of time that much of an obstacle in our lives simply because it is the one thing we have failed to control – much like death?

Time is a fickle game. It inspires humans to change, to adapt, to reflect. But our uncertain amount of time given to each of us is scary. Just how many times will you be able to greet your partner ‘good morning’? How many steps do you have left to take? How many tickets do you have left for the ride?

Image by @leah_berman on Instagram

Why worry?

We have become caught in making this temporary life so grand and luxurious. It’s right, we want to live good lives. Yet, we lose time working for the lavish dream we will never have, arguing instead of resolving our conflicts. Living with regret instead of finding peace. Time is a fickle game, but it is a game nonetheless. So play, and have fun.

The time we are in now is a scary one. Loved ones are leaving us, some suffering in hospitals, families falling apart, and it is a time for us to reflect. Make amends with those around you, finally push yourself to do that small act of kindness you’ve been putting off, write a blog post or some poetry, fall in love with the world around you. Notice the trees that have witnessed the centuries of time passed, speak to old people who have lived through decades of world history. Appreciate the yearly changes that you have undergone…The person you have become.


Just as the subtle rivers carve the rugged faces of the mountains, your being is gently being pushed along the current of time. Nothing can delay nor hasten it beyond what is written for us. Do not force or sacrifice yourself for the sake of fitting into a conventional box, there is no honour in that.

For the rest of this year, take things in stride, stick to your morals and ethics but do not restrict your game plan, you are capable of playing this fickle game.

GIF by @kyecheng on Tumblr

#STORYTIME: Confessions of a Teenage Body Shamer: Chapter 2

If mom knew Kasey was my partner, she’d probably have thrown a fit and rushed to my school the next day to complain and demand me a new partner. Which I guess wouldn’t have been that bad… but it’d sure have been embarrassing.


Read Chapter 1 of ‘Confessions of a Teenage Body Shamer’ here.

When I got home after cheerleading practice the next day, I found my mom in the lounge working out. The furniture was moved aside to create an open space at the centre of the room. An old work out video played on the television and she effortlessly followed the instructor whilst looking over at me. 

“Hey, honey,” she greeted. I smiled politely and proceeded to make my way through the lounge towards my room. 

All I wanted to do was fall back onto my bed and stay there for the rest of the day, especially after the crucial practice Katie put us through. Mom, however, stopped me before I even reached the stairs. “Emma I think you should grab a yoga mat and join in,” I tried hard not to roll my eyes at her disapproving tone. “That cheerleading uniform seems a bit too tight.”

Instead of retorting, which I really wanted to do, I did as I was told and placed a yoga mat right next to her. I quickly got into the same position as her and just fell in with the work out.

“I heard from Katie’s mom that you guys got a project today, but you and Katie aren’t partners?” 

Mom’s laser-like eyes were focused on me and yet she never even wavered in the workout position she was in. I, on the other hand, could feel my arms and my legs wobbling.

“Yes, we couldn’t choose our own partners.”

“Well, then who’s your partner?”

“Just this new girl,” I lied. 


If mom knew Kasey was my partner, she’d probably have thrown a fit and rushed to my school the next day to complain and demand me a new partner. Which I guess wouldn’t have been that bad… but it’d sure have been embarrassing.

Besides that, Katie thought that the project would be a great advantage to get some leverage over Kasey, I obviously couldn’t have agreed more but I was a bit anxious about how I was going to get said leverage.

“Oh, okay,” mom said and got up from the yoga mat to switch off the workout video. I stood up myself, trying hard to catch my breath before she noticed I was panting. She gave me a once over before walking towards the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” 

When she finally left, I felt like I could breath again. My phone went off with a notification and I checked it to see a text from none other than Kasey, herself.

Image from

I sighed when I saw her name was changed from Kasey to Fatty K. Katie must have done it. I made my way to my room while checking the message.

If you’re free we should start with the project tomorrow. I could go to your house or you come to mine?

I closed my room door, fell onto my bed and replied.

Your house.

An hour later I was sitting at the dinner table with my mom, trying to force down the salad she had made. 

“Where’s dad?” I asked in order to make small talk but it was shut down almost immediately.

“Working late.”

The atmosphere was so awkward but I guess I should’ve been used to it by then. 

I envied my dad for being able to escape having dinner with us. I was mad at him for leaving me alone with my mom when he knew exactly how unbearing and controlling she could be.

I imagined him sitting at his desk in his office or being at a restaurant, just eating anything that he wanted without having anyone control what he ate because of the amount of calories in it. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” Mom’s stern voice knocked me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see her icy gaze on me. I quickly smiled and shoved a few pieces of lettuce into my mouth. 

That night, when I went to bed, I prayed that the rest of the school year went by quickly so that I could just get away from all of it…

[To be continued…]


Thanks for reading! GirlOnTheBus is powered by a strong, sassy group of women with a love for writing and sharing stories. If you know of someone in your community doing amazing things for themselves or others, let us know! You can tag us in posts on social media with #girlonthebusblog or send us an email under the GOT SOMETHIN’ TO SAY tab. So easy! We look forward to hearing about the talented and simply stellar individuals across the globe.

The 2020 Bus Ride: Our Year in Review 🚌

A review of everything we’ve done together on the bus this year.

2020 has been a wild (unexpectedly long) bus ride for all of us: we’ve hit lots of bumps on the road, but we’ve managed to have a little fun regardless.

This year we tried out, and added, a few new things: new, talented writers; new SPOOPY posts for October; posting once a week; lots and lots of poetry and short stories. It’s (semi-) safe to say that 2020 was our fullest bus ride yet and we’re super thankful for that.

To prepare for 2021, and the ideas we’ve got stacked up, here’s a review of everything we’ve done together on the bus this year.

P.S. Authors who do not have their own profiles on GOTB have Italicised names.


We looked at lots of things we liked

Continue reading “The 2020 Bus Ride: Our Year in Review 🚌”

#HORROR-SHORROR: Shadow of The Night

Though bittersweet, this is the final installment for our month of spoopy!

E/N: Though bittersweet, this is the final installment for our month of spoopy! Let’s give a huge round of applause to these amazing writers👏🏼

I hope you’ve enjoyed these few stories written by our amazing spoopy writers, and that you continue to check out their posts in future. For more spoopy posts, check out the #HORROR-SHORROR tag.

Tara has never liked Halloween.

She detested everything to do with Halloween. As a matter of fact, she thought the entire concept was ridiculous. Who even decided to dedicate an entire month towards this charade? Her dislike included even horror movies – she thought they were just too nonsensical and predictable.

She was seen as the odd one out of her family, because her entire family absolutely loved Halloween, more than any other holiday. They constantly teased and pestered her with scary stories.

On the 31 October, after being assigned the duty of handing candy to the trick or treaters for the entire day, Tara couldn’t wait to get to bed and fall asleep. She was excited to see Halloween come to an end.

That night she got ready for bed earlier than usual, put on her comfiest pyjama’s and went about doing her nightly routine. When she finished, she got into bed, eager to fall asleep and wake up the next morning.

When Tara woke up again, it was because of a sound that she heard coming from downstairs. She sat up, a bit confused; she was usually a deep sleeper. The clock on her bedside table read 01:12 a.m. She decided to go back to sleep, but when she heard the noise again – louder this time – it made her jump.


Frowning, she decided to check what the noise was. She got out of bed and slowly made her way towards the bedroom door. Cautiously, she opened the door; afraid she might make even more noise and wake everyone else up. But when she opened the door, she immediately froze.

Instead of seeing her brother’s closed bedroom door, as she was supposed to, she looked straight into a dark abyss…

Fearfully jumping, she slammed the door closed. She leaned against the door, panting. Her heart beating so fast she was scared she might go into cardiac arrest. She shut her eyes and repeated the words “this is just a dream”, and “wake up” several times. When she opened her eyes again, she let out a breath before slowly opening her bedroom door.

This time, however, instead of looking into a dark abyss, she was staring into a living room that looked to be abandoned. The furniture was dusty and covered in cobwebs. Though wanting to shut the door and just crawl back into bed, her feet carried her into the living room.

The door slammed shut behind her, giving her a shock. She ran back and pulled on the door knob, but it seemed to have locked by itself. She turned around and looked around the room. On the wall opposite her, she noticed a red handprint – walking closer to inspect it. A chill vibrated through her body and she realized that it was bloody. Slowly, the blood still dripped to the floor. She pulled at her hair and quickly backed away from the wall. 

What was going on?

A door slammed open, making her gasp. There, by the door, were stairs leading upward. Mustering up all of her courage, Tara slowly proceeded up the stairs. With every step she took, the stairs creaked louder and her anxiety increased. There was another door at the top of the stairs, but this wasn’t what made her stop dead in her tracks.

In front of the door stood a tall figure. He was cloaked in black and it looked like his feet weren’t touching the ground. That still wasn’t the scariest part, though. The scariest part was that his huge, glowing red eyes were looking directly at her. Tara turned around, preparing to go back downstairs, but, to her surprise, the tall figure appeared at the bottom of the stairs as well. 

She wanted to break down right then and there.

The figure approached her and she backed up, scared. He then stretched out his cloak covered hand. Seeing no other option, Tara put her hand in his. He led her towards the door further up the stairs, and she closed her eyes, afraid of what she’ll see.

The door creaked open and when she heard the screaming, her eyes snapped open. In front of her, lay a mass of soulless bodies, piled on top of one another. In sync, the corpses turned and slowly crawled towards her.

That’s when she realized that the dark figure disappeared. She frantically ran to the door and opened it but not before one of the corpses scratched her leg. Wincing, Tara leapt out of the door, only to fall into midair. 

She closed her eyes and screamed, but then plunged onto her bed. It was just a dream, yet it felt so real – too real. She could still feel the pain in her leg from where the corpse scratched her. Observing her leg, her heart started beating faster when she saw three deep scars with blood leaking out of them.

Footsteps were then heard coming from outside her bedroom and moments later her door slammed open and the dark figure entered her room, bringing a gust of wind with him. Tara screamed so loud, she felt the ground shake. 


“Tara!” She heard her mom shout. “Tara, wake up!” Her eyes snapped open and she saw both her parents and her brother standing in her room. She noticed the scars on her legs disappeared, but she could still vaguely feel the pain. “Are you okay?” Her mom asked, concerned. Tara nodded, and mustered up a small smile.

“Yeah, it was just a nightmare,” she assured them. 

Yet, the entire time she spoke to them, she maintained eye contact with the tall, glowing-red-eyed figure standing behind her door…

Thank you so much to our writers and readers for supporting this spoopy month – I’m sure we’ll have more #HORROR-SHORROR posts in future! Now, it’s time to say goodbye to this month of spoopy, and welcome back out usual random quirkiness✨

Thanks for reading! GirlOnTheBus is powered by a strong, sassy group of women with a love for writing and sharing stories. If you know of someone in your community doing amazing things for themselves or others, let us know! You can tag us in posts on social media with #girlonthebusblog or send us an email under the GOT SOMETHIN’ TO SAY tab. So easy! We look forward to hearing about the talented and simply stellar individuals across the globe.

Cape Town, Western Cape
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