Welcome, Dear Reader!

Welcome, Dear Reader!

Here on Madam Macabre, We offer;

*Juicy Tabloids on your favorite Horror Monsters!

*Ominous Vibes~

*Fashion Tips

*Detailed First Hand Reports from the heart of Okaloosa County

*Dark Secrets 💛

*Horrors not meant to be seen by the human eye!

And Much More, with your dedicated blogger, who traveled the astral planes just to work as a mallmart employee 

A Report! From Inside the Walls of My Room

"I feel like I sound like I'm trying too hard to write but idk. I don't want to sound too speechy," I type, tapping my fingers anxiously on my desk. I had thought making a blog would fill the sort of empty feeling in my life that had me feeling nearly directionless. I thought moving to another plane of existance would give me the thrill I was craving but here in Okaloosa County, I feel remarkably dull. 

"How much have you written before?" 

        I sucked in a breath at this question. The truth was, a lot. I wrote everything down, word for word, never forgetting the phrasing because if I didn't write it down I would inevitably forget everything and that meant…

"I dunno. I usually write in template form for my many daydreams. Mostly for school though.And calling my daydream templates writing is kinda a stretch,"

I remember sitting in a small room, the ceiling arched and textured like popcorn. The walls a soft gray, and the only light coming from the antique lamp in the corner of the room donned in cobwebs. How many years had I lost standing in a corner of that room, gazing into the old antique mirror that sat on the ground, propped up against the wall and spattered with an unknown murky liquid?

"You know writing's not a thing you're just either good or bad at and that's that. It's not something you just do and it either sounds good or doesn't. It's a skill that you practice like any other. If you've only ever drawn in grade school art classes you're not gonna be Leonardo Da Vinci the first time you pick up a pencil for fun instead of an assignment. Keep at it."

I paced anxiously back in forth in my room, fingers tapping rhythmically against my hips. ' Yeah, but I want to be liked. I want to feel like I got something worth saying.' He's right though. He's been online and writing far longer than I have, and not only that but he has the moves to back it up.  I sit back down in a huff and continue typing. 

'I like you guys

I want to seem cool and stuff to you. It sounds kinda juvenile when I say it out loud' 

'Ciara, we're already friends you don't have to impress us. At this point we like you 'cause you're you'

'Thank you 💛'

'Being friends with you isn't a favor'

I blink a few times, and read it again. And then, I read it again

Because deep down, I don't understand.

An important update;

Darling Taylor came back for me 💛

We are now sitting in the breakroom eating whipped cream and talking about the outage and how she was scared because I seemed terrifyingly inhuman and uncanny valley at the same time. She's such a charmer with her compliments 💛

A Report! From Inside The Walls of Mallmart

The shadows stretch ominously over the well manicured lawns of Okaloosa, and the seas kick their legs against the shores with a sort of nervous energy That tells me maybe they too know what is going to come next. Even as they don't tell me the secrets of our universe, I still have one thing in the back of my mind, and I know when I write about it, I'm going to have all ears listening. It's just a matter of when.

Of course, time seems non-existent at a place like Mallmart, and before I new it the sun was bright in the sky, and I was eagerly sitting at a table with a bag of strawberries in one hand and a can of whipped Cream in the other. Because today, is the day Taylor from Mallmart comes into my life. Taylor, is goth. She is donned in all black, and her hair is glossy and voluminous and her skin is soft, and stretchy, and wonderfully pale.

"Taylor, darling! I brought you strawberries!" The student of microbiology sat down next to me. "Oh thank you, you didn't have to do that." Her voice is monotone, but with underlayers of warmth. "The whipped cream is unopened," and she glances down to where I point. "Oh it's okay," 

"Perhaps we can do whippets at lunch instead, Dear Taylor~"

This, elicits a dark and sardonic chuckle from her, which shoots electricity down my spine. I get up from my seat. "Until next time, Taylor from Mallmart,"

I thought about the fact that I am bound to get noticed, sooner or later. That being this invisible is temporary. It sparked a nervous energy in my chest, but all I could think was, 'Surely this isn't it. This isn't all that is to life.I can't be stuck like this, I can't- The light blinked out of Walmart one by one, and then, panic.

"Well, this is exciting." The customer next to me jumps at my cheery statement, as if she hadn't noticed me standing there. I take my cart back to the backrooms, only to find all the doors closed, and room pitch black save for the floodlights in each room, leaving a very dim glow.

Taylor, is now attempting to navigate the backrooms, peering anxiously where the baler would be. "I'll get the door for you," I grin at her. Confused, she reaches into her pocket and fumbles a moment before shining her phone light on me, and her eyes widen, the pupils dilating. Her breathing came out shallow and uneven. "Taylor? Wait, Taylor-" and she was gone, running down through the store as I was hot on her heels, out she goes into the parking lot, into a car, which peeled out leaving me in awe. 

So, quietly I go back to the break room, sit down at a table, and spray whipped cream into my mouth.

Because I know when I write about it, I'm going to have all ears listening.