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short stories

scary short stories in english



short stories in english

My girlfriend died. She had a car accident. My mother woke me up the next morning to tell me. She was a mess and I found myself comforting her instead of processing what she had just told me. After she left it sunk. I cried for hours. I started crying because my girl was gone. I kept crying because our last words had been hard. A fight over the phone.

The funeral was horrible. I just looked at his body. A lot of makeup. It made me sick.

Later that night I found myself hugging my pillow, unable to sleep. I searched my phone in the dark. I read our last text conversation. Then I wrote a new message:

Me: I’m so sorry, Ipsa. I love you forever.

I pressed send and finally fell asleep.

I woke up with my phone ringing. I looked at the time. 1:49 a.m. It was a message from his phone.

Ipsa: forever? 🙂

Who has your phone? I was wondering. I got angry instantly.

Me: Who is this?

Ipsa: It’s me, Ipsa.

I was so angry that tears began to flow from my eyes.

Me: Who the hell is, please … just stop.

Ipsa: It’s me, I promise. I will try it. Ask me something that only I would know.

I proceeded to roast it with question after question. The sun came out before it convinced me. But it was certainly her. She said she couldn’t tell me where she was, but that she was amazing and that she was happy. She said it was contrary to the rules to talk to me, but that I couldn’t help it. That made me smile. She said she couldn’t call, but would continue to text me whenever I could.

For months we talked through text messages, usually late at night. We mainly remember the old days. She refused to share details about her new life. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was happy to read your messages.

Then she told me that I should start dating again. I told him no. We begin to discuss:

Ipsa: I don’t think we should text each other.

Me: What are you talking about?

Ipsa: This was a bad idea. I’m sorry.

Me: No. Wait. I’m sorry. I can’t lose you again.

Ipsa: I love you.

Ipsa: bye.

I sent him text messages every day for weeks begging him to answer. I soon found myself in the grip of depression. He had lost her again.

One night I woke up from a dream I was having about Ipsa just to find myself alone in bed. My room was cold and dark. He had left the window open. I grabbed my phone to see the time. 1:49 a.m. Zero messages I would have cried, but I was completely cried.

I heard a slight noise coming from the closet in front of my bed. I looked up … And there she was. Slowly he came out from behind my hanging shirts and jackets, pushing them aside. Even in the dark, her delicate features were unmistakable. His dark wavy hair bounced as he slowly walked towards me.

“Ipsa.” I whispered My heart was beating. She didn’t say a word. She just looked me in the eye with a sidelong smile on her beautiful face. The moon that came through my window made her pale skin glow.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my bed. I jumped. She stopped and looked at him.

Maybe she can’t talk, I thought. I picked up the phone and read the message:


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