The Lady Of Weeping Lake

A Chilling Horror

He stared into the void of the blank document screen, infuriated by its plain, dreadfully white background. “ Why can’t I think of anything!”, he thought to himself. It had been this way for months now since the publishing of his bestseller. A story that had brought him the recognition he had so long desired since boyhood. He had always dreamed of being mentioned among the likes of Koonst, Christie, and King as one of the great literary minds of suspense and horror. When his first story was published, he had seen it as the first in his ascension through the ranks of those great authors, but as time passed the blank page that once held such promise, now turned into an ever-goading reminder of his inadequacy. What was worse than that, the money which had at one point been his ticket out of the desperate circumstance he was once so akin to, was nearly all dried up.

Hoping a little exercise would bring the creative flow back to his stressed and doubt-filled mind, he chose to make his way to the mailbox. As he stepped out of his third story apartment, he was startled by the elderly woman from down the hall in room 303, Mrs. Taylor.

“ Oh I’m so sorry Allen, dear! I was just making my way to you. A package addressed to you was placed in my mailbox, it seems whoever mailed it got the wrong address.” She held out the rather large package…