The Scariest Thing of All

by K. Cuevas
Louisiana, United States
genre: Horror
content warnings: Graphic Physical Violence

The human mind is truly the scariest thing of all things ancient and new. Stuck in an endless loop of unquenchable desires can drive one mad. 

Scratching at dead flaky skin that forms a pile of snow on the sheets. Snapping your fingers like carrots, one by one until your fingers can lead you to any place in this ghastly world. Ripping your teeth out and using the dripping, pooling blood as lipstick. Pulling your eyelid back as the hot needle slowly makes its way towards your iris. 

Not that we would do this. It's only a dream, as dead as the man in my freezer. 

My mind is full of 

stopped clocks 

the wind pushing me towards my doom

static yanking the hairs of my neck up 

the screeching of church bells in a graveyard

piano music in an abandoned mall 

the death of a lit candle 

the falling of stars

a doll with one eye 

dirt under my fingernails 


the laughter of children at midnight.

You're real in my mind. I can almost feel your leathery, tight skin as my fingers claw at the dirt that holds you prisoner. I'm coming to get you. We still have so much to do. I can't wait to

tear your skin from your bones 

pluck your eyeballs from their sockets 

string your teeth on a wire 

slurp up your leftover blood 

devour your organs 


use your heart as the centerpiece of my mantle.

I know it sounds painful. Don't worry. I'll make sure to distract you. We could listen to 

the squeal of metal as two vehicles collide

the crying of children

the scratching of a chalkboard 

the sound of meat frying in grease 

dead church bells 

or even 

the screaming of the dead man in my freezer. 

Whichever sound will put you at ease. I need you calm as I scrape the meat off your bones. I need absolute concentration when I snap your muscles like a rubber band. When I slice your tongue from your body. When I sharpen your bones into weapons. 

I know it sounds scary. But it's not as scary as being trapped in your own mind. I've been staggering around this old shack for ages. My bones ache. The last time I had company was when the lumberjack stumbled across me. He had to make it 

through the small, traditional town 

past the school house full of dead minds

through the graveyard as old as the town

through the meadow with weeds gripping his calves as they begged him to turn back 

past the highway that only teenagers desperate to prove their worth drive down 

through the dark, weary wood 


finally to the small clearing accessorized with a run down shack.

As I drag your body through the woods, the squealing of tires and laughter of teenagers rings in my ears. I drop your body, leaving you victim to the woods as I imagine what fun I am about to have. 

Running to my shack, a small grin blossoms on my face as I gather my special supplies. Oh, what fun!  They won't see me coming. I prep the basement for the arrival of my newest collection. 

The human mind is truly the scariest thing of all. 



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