The Ballroom

 

    Yasmine knew that the old brass key that was hidden in the flowerpot was not meant for her, but being a young, curious mind can lead you into places that your sound mind wouldn't dare let you walk into. Yasmine put the key into the door, and as she turned it, it made a soft clicking sound as she let herself in. When Yasmine walked into the ballroom, the dust curled through the air like a ghost of past music. 

    Yasmine stepped onto the old ballroom floor, which creaked softly under her feet, and in the center of the room sat a violin that had aged centuries. A cold wind pressed against her back, and then soft music started to play as the shadows formed into shapes of dancers. They moved in rhythm, faceless and somewhat graceful in a creepy way.

"Dance with us," a soft voice uttered. The voice was like silk.

    The music played softly in the background as Yasmine's feet started to move without a thought, pulling her into the waltz. She was spinning with her arms lifted by the shadows that she could barely see. Every turn she made blurred the room slightly. The shadows pressed closer with their faceless heads tilting, hungry. Then she saw them—shoes gliding across the floor, leaving crimson streaks of blood. Real blood, nothing fake. The ballroom was alive; its polished walls began bleeding crimson, like a waterfall feeding on her pulse, mirrors reflecting not her face but a hollow-eyed corpse that resembled her, wearing the same gown.

    The violin in the center shrieked. Yasmine's skin started to get cold, her breath showing in the air. She tried to pull away, but with each pull, the shadows pulled her back as the song and dance started picking up tempo. Her heart was pounding like a frightening storm just to keep up with the tempo.

"Forever," the soft voice whispered again, but this time from inside her head.

    The dance and music kept gaining more tempo, and the last thing Yasmine felt was her feet giving out, her body spinning so fast that she was nothing but a shadow. The ballroom went still as the violin slowed, and the walls began to bleed. In the center of the room, a new curious mind awaits, a new shadow to take, her face pale with her gown soaked in crimson.

     Yasmine was now a part of the Blood Dance Ballroom. "Forever." The soft voice uttered as the cobwebbed chandelier went dark, the walls stopped bleeding, and the doors slammed closed. 

© Lakeyia Lugo, 2025. All rights reserved.

The Collector

 

  

     In the little town of Foxridge, there was a young man named Daniel whom the neighbors always knew to be helpful and who smiled a lot, making sure that everyone was happy and taken care of around the area. He never caused trouble until the day he decided to turn his hobby into something criminal. Daniel was popular, but his secret fascination with keys and locks stemmed from a desire to uncover the mysteries and secrets that people kept locked away.

   One Monday evening, during a quiet game of basketball with his friend, Daniel decided to share something interesting. Moving closer, he uttered, "If someone builds a door, it's because they are hiding something." With that cryptic remark, Daniel took another shot at the goal and walked home. As the sun set, the usual rhythm of Foxridge gently carried Daniel back to his house.

   Daniel reached home, went into his room, and locked his door without a word. His mother stood at the bottom of the stairs, hoping that Daniel wouldn't become like his alcoholic father, who vanished and left them with his debt. Daniel's mother secretly put some money away so that Daniel could get out of the house for the summer. They were going to the Beach resort, a place Daniel had always wanted to go ever since he was a little boy. He always heard his friends talking about how fun it was.

   In the summer of 2019, all the kids were on break, and one Saturday night, there was a call for a break-in at Mrs. Road's home. She wasn't there, and no valuables like money were taken. The detective found it hard to believe that someone would take photos of the family and nothing more. The detective saw a key with a date on it sitting on the bed, but they thought it was some sort of prank and dismissed it; they still noted it in the investigation. 

   Everything was okay until Mrs. Caldten was a victim of a break-in, but she was not so lucky. She was gone, there, on the ground with nothing but hundreds of keys surrounding her. One key stood out: "22-Daniel." The detective raced over there quickly. Daniel and his mother let the police search his room, and all they could see were photos of each victim's door up on the wall and keys, all sorts of keys, just scattered on his desk and floor. Daniel didn’t deny it; he even gave a reason. "I wanted to know," he said softly. "I wanted to know what people keep locked away." "I just wanted to know. Am I in trouble?" 

   The court date came fast, and with that, Daniel never showed any grief or sadness. He looked up at the judge and uttered, "You still haven't opened all the doors."  A creepy smile showed up out of nowhere on Daniel's face, and the courtroom began to gasp and whisper. "I knew he was like his father," one lady said at the very back. "Another look over at Daniel's mother, and she shook her head with shock and mouthed, 'You poor woman.'" Daniel's mom got up and ran outside, trying to hold back tears. 

    Every day, the townspeople swear that they find new keys on their porches just waiting for someone with the courage to turn them. Some say that they saw Daniel standing outside their home in the darkness. 

Daniel was sentenced to 25 to life for the robbery and murder of Mrs. Caldten, and his mother moved to the countryside to be alone, far away from everyone.

© Lakeyia Lugo, 2025. All rights reserved.

Antique music box

         

  Chat Short Story

Chat Log:

Two friends log into their own chat log channel to discuss an antique music box that has been passed down through generations. They say that the box is cursed and carries the souls of every family member who has passed on, but one rule is to never engage with the box because you can be tricked into giving your soul away to the evil Gin that lives within the walls of the box. 

Anna: Hey, did you ever learn more about the music box your mother left you?

Jake: Uh, not really... My mom told me she got it from her mother, so it has been in the family for a long time. I find it very creepy, though. 

Anna: Really? What makes it creepy?

Jake: The box sits on my dresser untouched, and around 3 AM, it will start playing a lullaby. 

Anna: Wow! Really? I think you should consult with someone knowledgeable about this subject. 

Jake: The lullaby gets stuck in your head. 

Anna: I mean, that sounds just creepy. Did you wind it up and then forget?

Jake: Hell naw, look, I need my beauty sleep. I can't be walking around like a zombie.

Anna: Beauty sleep? Okay 🤣

Jake: Anyway...let me finish. I checked on the music box, and the switch was turned off. As I went to put it down, I could feel the coldness of a hand or something holding mine. 

Anna: What? Okay, you had your fun, but now I think you should consider getting rid of that thing. 

Jake: I think my mom is trying to reach me somehow. 

Anna: Huh? Jake, are you being for real? Like you inherited an antique music box that moves when you don’t want it to, and it's making you sound insane. Also, not to mention you felt a cold hand. I am pretty sure your mom would not mind getting rid of a cursed music box. 

Anna's lights started to flicker as she kept talking about the box, and all of a sudden, everything went black.  

Jake: Anna? Are you okay? Anna!?

Anna: Yeah, I have to go check the fuse box or something. 

Jake: Oh, okay, I will wait here, or I can call you if you would like? 

Anna: Jake, that’s creepy! You have to get rid of it!

Jake: I can’t. It feels... connected to me. 

Anna: That’s dangerous, though! 

Jake: I know. But when I think about giving it away, I hear the lullaby again. It’s like it’s calling me.

Anna: 😟 Please be careful. 

Jake: I will. But… I’m going to open it tonight. 

Anna: NO! Jake, please don’t!

Jake: Too late. The music is starting... 

Anna: What music? 

Jake: The lullaby... It’s playing. 

Anna: Are you serious?

Jake: Yeah. It’s getting louder. 

Anna: You need to stop it!

Jake: I can’t! It won’t stop... 

Anna: Jake? Are you there? 

Jake: I think I see something in the shadows...

Anna: What do you mean? 

Jake: It looks like my mom. 

Anna: What?! 

Jake: She’s smiling. 

Anna: Get away from it!

Jake: It’s too late, Anna. She’s here. 

Anna: Jake?? Stop it; it is not real!!

Jake: She wants me to play… 

Anna: JAKE! 

Jake: I have to go now. 

Anna: JAKE! DON’T! 

*[Chat ends abruptly and lights come back on.]*

© Lakeyia Lugo, 2025. All rights reserved.