Beware of Clarisse Honkle

I have an awesome set of nieces and nephews. When I asked if any of them would like to write a scary short story for my blog, two of my nieces, Cassidy and Dakota, both got right to it! Both of them are such talented, intelligent girls and I am so lucky to get their talent exclusively for my blog!

First up: My 12-year-old niece, Cassidy. She is quite the writer (also, quite the volleyball player, she just made the traveling Vball team!)

ANYWAY, knowing my girl’s propensity for writing and knowing how talented she is, I knew her story would be just as spooky as I expected it to be. This busy little girl also just finished a book she has been writing called Myth. She is a nonstop achiever.

Without any more babble from me…please tap your keys for Cassidy Ogden and her short story:


Clarisse Honkle


That was it. But that tombstone somehow meant a great deal to George, although he had no idea why.

George was lonely without a family. One night the man woke. He jumped when he saw a small girl standing timidly in the doorway. As she walked closer to him he saw that she was missing an arm, was covered in scrapes, and limped when she walked. She stopped at the foot of his bed. In a hushed voice she spoke. “Help. please.” George asked who she was but she interrupted him screaming, “Make it stop!!” She went as still as a statue and stayed there, watching him all night. He woke in the morning and the girl was gone.

That night he fell asleep fast, still exhausted from the night before. But once again he woke. Sure enough he looked up to find the girl staring at him. The girl would repeat the words “Help. Please.” And if he tried to talk to her she would scream at him.

Until one night she let him speak. “Who are you?” he asked. “Clarisse Honkle,” she replied. George’s mouth fell open. The tombstone.

She yelled harder when he tried to ask her more questions. “Leave me alone George! You were supposed to forget!” she shrieked.

As the nights passed, occasionally Clarisse would answer questions for George. After several months George had gathered some useful information. Clarisse was being stalked by a man. She was an orphan. The stalker was after money her parents left to her. Her stalker kid-napped her and threw her in his car. They crashed. Her body was found missing an arm. Her captor had amnesia from hitting his head and he didn’t remember her.

One night, George crawled into bed for the last time. After falling asleep, he woke once again. He heard her voice say “Hi, George.” He looked up. “George, I never got my revenge on my stalker. Don’t worry, you won’t remember anything, you have amnesia, remember? Of course you don’t.” George never woke again.

Now you must remember when you get in the driver’s seat, always say Honkle three times to give Clarisse the respect she never received when she was alive and to insure that you will not be her next victim. Who knows, you could have had amnesia like George.

11 thoughts on “Beware of Clarisse Honkle

  1. Yikes! What a wonderfully scary story! Thank you, Cassidy, and congrats on making the traveling volleyball team. Keep writing!

    Honkle Honkle Honkle

    ~ Lisa

  2. Oh. Wow.

    Cassidy, this is great! What a wonderful piece! You keep at it, girl!

    And Aunt Bree… you must be BURSTING with pride right now!

    • I AM a very proud aunt. It’s so crazy to watch these kids grow from little toothless blobs to talented, beautiful young women. Haha.

  3. Dear Cassidy,
    I’m fairly sure that I am going to have trouble sleeping tonight. Thanks to you! I will also be honking the horn when I get into the car. I’m sure everyone will think I’ve gone batty. But that’s okay, they can have the Honkle come visit them, not me. Great story. Thank you for sharing. Keep those fingers tapping. Sky’s the lim!
    Frightfully yours,

  4. Super huge WOOT to you Cassidy! That’s a ridiculously cool story! Keep on writing girl, you’re going to wind up published before me! :D

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