Chapter 11: Co-Author. The Horror Thriller Web Novel - IT’S ME, MOM—LET ME IN by Abrar Nayeem Chowdhury

Chapter 11: Co-Author

The monster stood between you and the open doorway — the one your pen had written.

It grinned.

Not the way people grin.

The way jack-o’-lanterns rot — slowly, sagging into themselves.

Its stitched body crackled. Every seam pulsed with words. And its eyes, those rusted coins, never blinked.

Because it wasn’t made to blink.

It was made to watch you.

 

“You can’t stay here,” Debra hissed. “It’s feeding on your edits.”

“I didn’t mean to write that thing!” you screamed.

“Intentions don’t matter,” Stuart growled. “Only what’s written.”

“Then help me erase it!”

Daniel stepped forward.

His hands bled apostrophes.

“You can’t erase your first fear,” he said. “It’s the only part of you the Book didn’t write.”

The creature cocked its head.

It sniffed the air — deeply, joyously — as if it were inhaling a memory.

And then it spoke again.

“You used to call me ‘Blanky Man,’ remember?”

Your stomach dropped.

That name.

That voice.

That thing under your bed at age five — the shape you only half-saw through the bars of the crib, made of a wet blanket and breathing teeth.

“You’re not real,” you whispered.

“I’m real enough to ruin endings,” it purred.

“What do you want?”

“A byline.”

The air rippled.

New parchment spread beneath your feet.

The Book was watching.

Somewhere above the clouds of ink and memory, its spine cracked open to a fresh page.

It was offering you something.

A shared authorship.

The Blanky Man would stop hunting you.

The Inkborn would retreat.

The Book would grant you control—
...If you let your oldest fear write half of what comes next.

 “Don’t do it,” Debra warned. “You’ll give up who you are.”

“Do it,” Daniel whispered. “It’s the only way to survive.”

“This isn’t a deal,” Stuart growled. “It’s possession on paper.”

The Blanky Man extended a hand, stitched fingers, soft as baby blanket edges.

He held out a quill.

Not a pen. A bone quill.

The kind you’d only find in dreams, you forget the moment you wake up screaming.

On it, your name had already been etched. 

 “We can build nightmares together,” the creature cooed. “You and me. Page by page.”

The quill twitched in his hand, pulsing to your heartbeat.

You reached out.

Hesitated.

And then…

A fourth voice spoke.

Not Debra.

Not Stuart.

Not Daniel.

And not the Blanky Man.

It was your own voice.

From the next chapter.

“Drop the quill,” it said. “That thing doesn’t want to co-write. It wants to rewrite you.”

The Book shuddered.

A new page opened beneath you.

The title bled across the surface:

Chapter Fifty: The Ghostwriter.

And below it, in ink that wasn’t yours:

“Written by Someone Who Forgot They Were Alive.”

To be continued...

Chapter 10: https://storylinespectrum.blogspot.com/2025/04/chapter-10-pen-that-bites-horror.html

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