Havelock Writes

inspired by this

The paperweight sat on a ledge by the window and sent rainbows across the room on sunny days. Linda had found it in a charity shop for five quid and thought it was beautiful.

It was heavy, but apparently more fragile than it looked; when Linda’s cat knocked it off by accident, it cracked, and from the crack rose a tall, translucent figure.

Linda sighed and returned the paperweight to the ledge; this was her third haunted one so far. “Sorry for breaking your home.”

“Not to worry,” said the ghost, grinning. “I’ve been looking forward to doing some haunting.”



based off this post

Valerie’s day hadn’t gone well. She had spilt coffee down her shirt at the start of her shift, been yelled at by three customers, and her bus was twenty minutes late. So when she got home to find a vampire in her flat, it was just the cherry on top of the sundae of shittiness.

“I didn’t invite you,” Valerie said, tossing her coat over a chair and heading to the kitchen. “I don’t want vampires in here.”

“In that case, you shouldn’t have a welcome mat,” the vampire replied. She was sprawled out on the floor, looking through the DVD collection. “Hey, do you have Netflix?”

“Yep,” Valerie said. She rummaged through her fridge until she found the remaining garlic bread from last night’s dinner, and brandished it at the vampire. “And I’ll be watching it once you leave.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“There’s a priest upstairs. Do you want me to go get holy water as well?”

“Alright alright, I’m going.” The vampire stretched and got up. Valerie shooed her out with the garlic bread and closed the door in the vampire’s face.

Several seconds later, she reopened the door, pulled the welcome mat inside, and closed it.

Damn vampires.

Horoscopes: October Feelings


A feeling of nostalgia for something you have never experienced, for something you will never experience.


Déjà vu. You will wake each day feeling like you’ve already lived through it, like you can predict every event. This will last until 00:01 on November 1st, which will finally feel new.


A chill contained entirely within the little finger in your left hand.


Bursts of joy that occur when you wake from dreams.


A phantom itch that will seem to move throughout your body, never satisfied.


Déjà vu. Each day will feel the same, like you’ve already lived through it, like you could predict things if you tried. This will last until November 1st; finally, something new.


Pins and needles across your hands, along your arms, down your spine. Do not worry. Magic always feels like this in the beginning.


The feeling there is someone standing right behind you.


Random bursts of sorrow that will occur during random activities; when doing the dishes, when riding your bike, when reaching for the plates on the top shelf. There for a few moments and then gone.


A continuous feeling of déjà vu, of having lived this day before. Everything seems familiar, each event predictable. You could map out the whole day, if only you could remember. This will end on November 1st: finally, you will think, finally something new.


A feeling of being watched by the ghost of a long-dead butterfly.


A feeling of warmth emanating from your right foot.

Cubert Lane

Mary Wilson was afraid of a lot of things.

She was afraid of spiders, and worms, and things that crawled. She was afraid of wasps, and bee stings, and insect bites. She was afraid of getting bed bugs in her bedroom and ants in her kitchen.

She was afraid of driving in bad weather. She was afraid of falling asleep in public. She was afraid of getting hit when riding her bike.

She was afraid of loneliness, and sadness, and not getting enough exercise.

But most of all, Mary was afraid the ghost of Cubert Lane.

The ghost had haunted the street since the late 1800s, and would appear suddenly inside a room, motionless and staring endlessly into the abyss for hours on end before vanishing. Mary dreaded the thought of waking up with the ghost standing over her bed, or being in the shower and having the ghost appear behind her. She avoided relationships lest the ghost watch her have sex.

Mary had tried several times to move, but it was difficult selling property in a known ghost location. She was also afraid of estate agents, which certainly didn’t help.

Through therapy, she was slowly learning how to confront her fears, but the mere thought of the ghost’s dead stare was still enough to have Mary’s heart racing unpleasantly.


Horoscopes – What You Will Dream About in August

A forest at twilight. You walk through the trees, listening to the storm raging above you. You are surrounded by the smell of rain.
You wander through an old house. You wander for hours. Smoke and dust hang in the air. You hear snatches of conversation, distant music, but you never see another person. You keep walking.
A night spent kissing a past celebrity crush. It isn’t how you thought it would be.
Stars stretch above you, a dark sea stretches below you. You float between. You are at peace.
You’re sitting on an underground train knitting a endless scarf. You have been travelling through a tunnel for ten minutes and more passengers keep appearing. Your scarf is taking up a whole row of seats, and a large cat is playing with your wool.
Your grandfather is whispering stories to you down the phone. You haven’t got a grandfather, you’ve never had a grandfather, but you know his voice, and his stories feel like home.
The kettle is whistling. You stand in your kitchen and the kettle is whistling. The air is filled with its screech, the pitch climbing higher and higher. You are unable to move. You are unable to speak. All the while the kettle is whistling. You cannot make it stop.
There is a voice calling to you somewhere in the distance. You walk towards the setting sun trying to find it. It never gets closer, but you can still hear it, calling your name.
You sit in a darkened room. There is a fish staring at you from the tank across from you. It never stops staring at you. It knows.
A raven follows you around whispering your sins in the voice of an old man. You wish it would fuck off.
Lights above you. Lights dancing and shimmering above. Predictions of the future? Tales of the past? They look so beautiful. You wish you could join them.
You find a box buried beneath your garden, ornate and ancient. Inside is another box, inside that another box. On and on the boxes go, each one smaller, each one more ornate. You do not notice them getting smaller. You too are getting smaller.

You wake up in a car speeding along an empty highway. Lights blur overhead as you drive, on and on and on for hours without end. You’re close to your destination, you know you’re close, but before you get there you wake up in a cafe. You have an order to fill. You always have orders to fill. The cafe is filling up with people and they keep ordering and you wake up by the ocean. The air is full of salt and the cries of seagulls. You want to go swimming but no matter how far you walk the water doesn’t get any closer. You keep walking. Your beach towel is so far away now but the water still isn’t closer. You start running, your eyes fixed on the stretch of blue ahead but your foot slips beneath you. You’re falling and you wake up and you’re still falling.

You wake up.

You wake up.

You wake up.

Weather Umbrellas

The umbrella stand stood in the corner of the shop between an old piano and a display cabinet. The sign above it read: WEATHER UMBRELLAS $12 DO NOT OPEN INSIDE.

The umbrellas were an assortment of colours, some with stripes, some with dots, and all with a small dial on the handle. Katie picked out a blue one decorated with ducks and paid for it, thinking about how it was due to rain within the week.

When Katie got round to using it several days later, a small bolt of lightning shot from inside, burning a hole in her scarf.

(inspired by this picture by @iguanamouth)


It was held every year in a different place with a different theme. Nessie hosted the ‘96 con with help from her three seamonster girlfriends, and Mothman’s con in ’04 was decorated with thousands of multi-coloured lamps.

The cons were always well attended, with famous cryptids mingling with attendees, signing autographs and giving advice to those starting out. Every year someone would claim to have seen Bigfoot and their boyfriend, but those rumours were always unconfirmed.

The Jersey Devil had originally attended the con to get photos with his idols, but instead had found the greatest cryptid of all: love.

(inspired by this post and this drawing by my friend)


Annie hadn’t planned to fall in love. (Not that you ever did plan for it.) And she certainly hadn’t planned to fall for Copper.

It took her several months to realise quite how big her crush was. She simply thought she enjoyed Copper’s company, and if Annie spent too much time gazing at the automaton, well, surely she was just admiring Copper’s design – the smooth curves and sleek chrome of her torso, the stunning intricacies of her faceplate.

It wasn’t until she started noticing how often she thought about kissing Copper that Annie realised her feelings went beyond platonic.

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