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I’ve been sick for days now. That bubbling nausea that fills your throat, makes you feel as if you’re about to throw up every time you burp or so much as breathe out your mouth. Holding the toilet, resting my head on the cool, cool porcelain, I really question why in the hell I don’t make myself throw up and just get it over with. It’s just not something I can do. Thinking of forcefully gagging myself. Ugh, it’s almost worse than I feel now. Almost.

Suddenly it hits me, and this is it, this is IT. I feel that slick, sour spit coat my throat, my belly tightening up as I push my head over the bowl and spit. For a split second before I explode, I realize this thing has not been cleaned in a while. Then I vomit. Hard. Mucus-rich and acidic, it pours out in a hard, jetting stream from my mouth and nose, burning my nasal passages like fire. It hits so hard, it feels like it should be coming out my eyes, too.

I vomit again, and again, the third time bringing up just some thin, reeking slime, and I gasp a bit, getting my breath back before the next wave. I pitch forward again, eyes tearing as they squeeze shut, and I feel another hot jet of filth pour out. Opening my eyes, it seems different. A tarry black, and there are…things bobbing in it. I don’t have time to look too hard, before two more hard retches double me over the bowl. These are more pinkish, and I can definitely see some kind of meat in these. Hamburger, maybe…

More vomit, more oddness. I don’t remember eating any kind of jelly, especially cherry. It’s starting to hurt, a deep spike each time. God, how much can a person throw up? When did I eat noodles that long or that big? The goo in it is getting thicker too. And pink. Starting to feel at least a little better. Ugh. When did I eat a balloon? My belly is feeling better now, really light. Jesus. Whatever that was is floating still. Almost looks like it’s pulsing, or beating. Going to have to move to the sink. Toilet’s almost full. Feeling better now. Hungry, actually. Very hungry. Starving. Ravenous.

I feel so empty.

Generous Month

This July has been an unusual month for everyone. Mrs. Joanne’s magnolia tree fell down unexpectedly. Danny, who cleans our pool, had some leggy little creature crawl into his ear and lay eggs. Lara’s school picture was on the milk cartons for a week before they realized she wasn’t missing. July has just been strange.

Even my sister Ella has gotten caught up in July. She’s only eleven years old, but she has soft little white hands and the prettiest pair of raccoon eyes. Ella’s never been much of a sleeper, so her skin tends to cling to her skull in the right places. It makes her look a little older and quite a bit smarter than she is, since Ella thinks even less than she sleeps.

My sister seems to have acquired an admirer. It started on the 4th of July, we think, though there may have been prior efforts to reach her. Aunt had just come home with a sparkler for each of us when she started shouting at my sister through the front doorway.

“What in God’s name is this, Ella? What in God’s name is all this?”

Ella came tearing down the stairs and I stood from the kitchen table to join the commotion. When I got to the door, I saw Aunt and Ella staring down at a meticulously organized array of dead wasps on the top step.

In slightly crooked letters, it read “ELLA.”

My sister looked back up at Aunt with drowsy composure and shrugged her shoulders. Aunt ordered her to sweep it up, and by that evening, there were no wasps on the front steps. But we weren’t allowed to use our sparklers.

A few days later, I went out to get the newspaper and almost put my bare foot down on the petrified carcass of a fat squirrel. It was fully intact but very deceased, and between its stiff paws it clutched an acorn with my sister’s name shakily engraved on it. I buried the squirrel under the bushes and didn’t mention it when I gave the acorn to Ella later that day.

It was Ella herself who found the third gift: a huge trout that reeked of decay. It was only when she lifted it by its tail that a plastic keychain dropped out of its mouth and onto the stairs. I gutted the trout and incorporated it into Aunt’s dinner while Ella delightedly played with her new toy, the electronic keychain that flashed her name in tiny lights.

As this went on, July grew progressively more peculiar. The pharmacy two blocks away was robbed by a man wearing a rubber pig mask. There were four house fires, days apart, each documented as being the result of flammable curtains in kitchen windows. Mr. Dole would assert that he never owned curtains, only shutters, but the reports stayed the same.

Aunt started locking our doors once she found the four dead rats lined up on our steps, one letter of Ella’s name on each of their furry backs in white paint. Ella was beaten for that incident.

After that, I started getting up early to check the front stairs before anyone else could. I was the one who swept up the “ELLA” made out of what looked like human teeth. I didn’t tell her about it, and the next day, Aunt and I came home from the store to find my bedroom window smashed open with a large rock.

Since nothing had been stolen, Aunt assumed it was somehow my sister’s work. Ella slept in the basement for two nights because of that, but I doubt she slept. Later, she would swear to me that someone with a croaky voice had been comforting her from inside the walls. “Cruel woman will sleep in cellar next time,” it told her.

July is almost over now and we haven’t seen Aunt for several days. Ella also hasn’t received another gift.

Though, judging by the rotten stench seeping out from under the basement door, I think she’s about to.




Escape from the Haunted Room is another horror game, where you explore a haunted place. You’ll realize you’re not alone. Many spooky events happen, including seeing a woman walk past you and a hand under the bed come crawling out.

There are no screamers, rather quiet little glimpses of ghosts here and there as you try and search for a way out. 

If you are confused at any point, here’s a walkthrough 


It takes a while for the game to load.

The walkthrough links had some problems, but I fixed it. If you liked this, then you may like the game COMA

I like to point out, that if you don’t close the door and put the lil wedge at the bottom at the end of the game,

you will get the other ending and then the option to go back  where it gives you the option to close the door


When I awoke, my first thought was that I should have brushed my teeth the night before. My mouth was sticky with tar and the filth of sleep. I opened and closed my jaw regretfully, smacking my tongue as I did so. That was when I noticed the bump that had formed on the roof of my mouth. I chalked it up to poor dental hygiene and tried to put it from my mind.

But, as is so often the case when we try to ignore something, the bump kept interposing itself on my thoughts. My tongue would touch the welt of its own accord, morbid fascination overpowering self-control. By nightfall, it had neither reduced in size nor become any easier to ignore, so I took a closer look.

Shining a flashlight at a mirror, I was able to put a face to the annoyance. It was, as I’d surmised, little more than a red bump on the roof of my mouth. It was smaller than it felt and reminded me of nothing so much as a zit. The idea repulsed me, but lacking a better explanation, this is what I regarded it as.

The damned thing kept me up at night and distracted me during the day, while seeming to grow ever larger. It took on a whitish hue and seemed to be filling with some fluid- mucus perhaps, though I could think of it only as pus. After the third day, I’d had enough. Reaching my fingers into my mouth, I felt around for the bump. It was slimy and seemed to slide from my probing, but I eventually seized it between two nails and squeezed until the membrane burst.

There was an awful foulness in my mouth, like decay, and I spat and rinsed it away as best I could. A portion of the blister’s contents had stuck to my forefinger and I saw it was a cloudy, murky white stained by an off-yellow hue. More a gel than a liquid, I wiped it off in disgust at what had been pooling in my mouth.

Less than a month later, it returned. The same spot had swollen up during the night and it looked whiter than ever, with bare redness at its inflamed edges. There was no pain, just a curious numbness and I disposed of it as I had the first. Still unable to get past the zit comparison, I wondered if maybe I wasn’t doing myself some harm by not allowing it to heal on its own. When it returned in a couple weeks, I resolved to just let it be.

I scrubbed my mouth day and night, but the canker grew. My tongue touched it in horrified disgust, but still I restrained myself. When it had nearly tripled its original size, my resolve crumbled. I got the flashlight once more and yawned wide into the mirror. I found the bump had become a hemisphere nearly an inch long. It was pasty white except for where veins throbbed across it. The membrane was taut with the ooze within and at its center, there was a black dot.

As I lowered the flashlight, the mirror showed me that the dot grew larger as the light receded and I had to choke back the bile that rose to my lips. I took the sharpest knife I had and stabbed the eye growing in my mouth, feeling only numbness as it, staring silently at me, burst.

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