Diary: An Eccentric Encounter - By Achilla Chan

Written By: Achilla Chan

Category: Short story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, Achilla Chan presents "Diary: An Eccentric Encounter," a gripping short story that delves into the eerie and unsettling experiences of its protagonist. Set in the atmospheric Boston Hills during a relentless downpour, this tale captures the haunting aftermath of a colleague's death, blending reality and nightmare into an unforgettable narrative.

About the Work

"Diary: An Eccentric Encounter" is a masterful exploration of fear and the supernatural. Achilla Chan crafts a tense and vivid narrative, filled with chilling imagery and a sense of impending dread. The story's mood is one of escalating tension, as the protagonist encounters a grotesque figure, blurring the line between reality and hallucination. The literary style is marked by detailed descriptions and a deep psychological undercurrent, leaving readers questioning the nature of reality and guilt.

Diary: An eccentric encounter

Original Submission by Achilla Chan

13/4/2010 Rainy Boston Hills

I have no idea what has happened. It still seems like a dream to me-a vivid nightmare which is forever seared in my mind, insidiously eating my sanity.

The incident happened exactly a month ago. That week was just filled with tears and sorrow, teemed with indignant wailing from her family members; my ‘beloved’ colleague died, and everyone wept. But this wasn’t the main point.

It happened one night.

The ticking in the office had been recurring for the past hour, and I’d just noticed how annoying the clock was. Close to midnight, the outside had been pouring rain nonstop for an entire day. It’s just that then, the rain was hidden in total darkness. The office was empty except for me, edged on my chair, racing to finish the project due two days later. My sore fingers were dancing over the keyboard, like it was programmed to do so. Gosh, I hate being a procrastinator.

I flinched as my eyes accidentally landed on the small mirror beside.

Dark bags. Slovenly hair. Wrinkles. Had all the beauty drained out?

I looked like a hyena that got mauled by bears. My eyelids were half-way to my bottom lashes, and my breathing were already in the rhythm of sleeping. Why torture myself?

Looking out again, the street lamp that I could’ve sworn was just there two minutes ago, was engulfed by darkness. I glanced back at the clock which struck 00:00, and then unwillingly drifted to my computer that emitted obnoxious white light. I somewhat hated my boss for that. It’d be great if I could clear that obstacle. The thought of my cozy bed led my fingers to close the screen. I promptly gathered my belongings and rushed to flick the lights off. I was lucky enough to catch the last bus before it could depart its station.

By the time I got back to my flat, I was drenched in rain as I had forgotten to bring an umbrella. What was I thinking when I left the house?

My hair draped all over my shoulders. I flipped a disturbing strand behind my back as I stood in front of my door, fumbling in my soaked pouch.

“Damn it! Where is it.”

I had always arranged my stuff in a regimented order, but now the things were straggled across the ground, just because of that one piece of key that drove me insane.

Lights along the corridor had already been turned off so the only company was the rain hitting the ground again and again, which I find unsettling. I finally jammed the drained keys into the lock and turned it. Exhausted and worn out, I tossed my bag on the floor before I could even set foot into my house.

Just as I entered my living room, I noticed an unusual figure, attached to the ceiling with a peculiar, grotesque, stance. My vision eventually adapted to the darkness and I could finally see what was there. It was a massive spider-shaped human with rotten skin scrawled all over its limbs. It dripped what seemed to be ink on the floor, but I knew it was no other than blood as the strong putrid smell attacked my nose. It wore an oversized garment that seemed to float with the creature’s bony presence. It had hair that was as wet as mine, dangling off its skull.

Perhaps it had felt my presence, it craned its head so vigorously that I was sure some joints broke, just to face me, and I stifled a gasp upon the sight of its contorted face. Its eyes were scooped out, leaving sockets with two trails of ink strolling down, pooling at my newly panelled floor. Its teeth were in a serrated decay. It drooled hungrily, its non-existent eye somehow focused on mine, like a poised lion and ready to spring. I could hear popping as bones jutted further out from its neck.

This wasn’t the part that almost made me desperate; it was who that face belonged to.

Anna.

The dead worker.

The beloved colleague everyone lauded.

How was it possible? She was dead.

Even with her eyes gone, features deformed, and not a single thing on her that could be labelled as part of Anna, I could still recognise her; the one who treated me so well. But then, it seemed like the tables had turned. Before my brain could react, my legs became paralysed for me. My throat suddenly narrowed to a thin line. That’s strange, I don’t even have asthma.

I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. Is this what people called karma?

My whole body trembled as ‘Anna’ squirmed closer, her limbs climbing on top of each other.

The exit was so close, yet so far. I shared a few seconds of intense staring with her bloody sockets before she let out a vociferous howl that reverberated through the walls and pierced my eardrums. Hatred. Her mouth basically consumed her face, but all I knew was that it was big enough to fit me, without effort.

The desire to survive flooded me and kicked start my instincts. I jumped to my feet and with the last ounce of energy, I pounced for the door just as she lunged at me like a feral dog chasing a disc. I frantically reached for the handle and slammed the door shut, which to my surprise cut her screaming. I slumped on the floor, back against the door, crooking my fingers on my forehead to wipe the layer of sweat.

Holy shit.

I panted like I hadn’t breathed for ten minutes. Air had never felt this good to me. My heart was still pounding like a drum, rapping so hard against my ribs that they hurt.

But now, where did she go?

In terror and uncertainty, I sought for my phone in my pant’s pocket.

Thank God I have the habit of storing it beside my leg.

Both hands quivered as I dialled a call to my best friend Ella. A few seconds later and she picked up. That’s the perk of having a night owl friend. I told her I was going to her place and she had no problem with that.

This time I walked bare foot for miles. When I arrived at her house, I looked like I’d just had a shower. I told her everything that had happened after she enveloped me in a towel and settled me down, and clearly, she was as baffled as I was. She told me that I was having too much stress and it was appropriate for me to perhaps go on a hiatus, and so that was what I did regardless of what my boss would think. Unfortunate for me, it did not ameliorate. Snippets of memories that night continued to haunt me as far as I went. The hairs on my arms now rise whenever I see spiders scampering at corners, even small ones.

I can’t evict her.

I tried meditating, consuming medicine and even seeking help from a therapist, but they’d always come back, and so I continued to live in Ella’s house, trying to cope with this twisted side.

Weeks had passed and I had no intentions of leaving, that was until my rent was due. The experience had taught me that perhaps my house was cursed, so the sagacious option was to move out obviously. My trauma however kept me away from that house. Ella had left for a business trip for a week and I just couldn’t gather the courage to visit that nightmarish flat, not without someone. As my concerns rose, I remembered someone-Jaden, Anna’s fiancé. He was still in agony over the tragedy, and distracting him was the best way to relieve his pain. I contacted him and we agreed to meet a couple of days later.

Same old entrance, same long corridor, same intimidating door. I grabbed on a handful of sweat, heart beating erratically fast. Yes, I was still afraid even with a tall and protective man beside. I didn’t tell Jaden my encounter for personal reasons. The keys rattled in my hands; the exact scene that night, which sent shivers down my spine. I took a brief pause before rotating the handle.

This time, no ‘Anna’ could be seen. The room was bright, the puddle of blood on the floor was gone. The bag I tossed on the floor was still there, untouched.

How is that possible? I saw blood land on it with my raw eyes. I was completely flummoxed as Jaden walked past me and started gathering things. I stood erect for seconds before springing into action as well.

Could it be a hallucination? No, it was too real, too real to be fake.

The living room was basically packed into boxes when I went into the bedroom. A little box placed on the desk caught my attention.

I opened it, and Anna’s engagement ring revealed, sitting between the crevice of the velvet cushion. The diamond glistened with beauty, just like the night when I buried her.

But it’s impossible. The body is deep inside the soil.

How could anyone get the ring?

The box wasn’t the only thing on there; a strip of paper was released underneath. I flipped it over and the words written in blood were etched across the paper.

I know what you did. I am coming for you.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, celebrates the richness and diversity of literary talent worldwide. This prestigious platform invites writers to share their unique voices and creative expressions, fostering a global dialogue through the art of storytelling.

We extend our sincere gratitude to Achilla Chan for the captivating submission of "Diary: An Eccentric Encounter" to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Your story's vivid imagery and haunting themes leave a lasting impression, and we appreciate your contribution to the world of creative writing.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.