Oh, the horror!
For my horror writers. A story with a moral to it.
A family of four purchased their dream home in Colorado. Had every single thing that each member wanted. The first year living there Mom and Dad went to a Halloween party. The two enjoyed edibles with THC and CBD. Later in the middle of the night at home, Dad woke up to use the bathroom. He saw a creature walking about in the living room. The creature was human-ish. Bony thin with long limbs. Gray skin, gray eyes, gray straggly hair, and rotted teeth, it was covered in black moldy strips of cloths and fabrics of varying thickness and lengths. Dad kept looking at the creature but said nothing, thinking it was a fake apparition caused by edible indulgence. That is, until the creature saw Dad and rushed him. The two fought. The struggle lasted only for a few minutes. Then the creature just stepped back into the shadows and disappeared. Dad felt his body. No cuts, no bruises. Just sweat. The next morning Dad checked out the living room. Nothing was broken. A chair moved out of place, a couch pillow on the carpet. That was about it. Dad spoke not a word to his family, thinking that it was all in his head due to the THC. Exactly one year later Dad had to fly out of town for business. Leaving Mom home alone. Son and Daughter went to a Halloween party and stayed overnight. With the kids out of the house, Mom used the time to partake from her favorite stash of Colorado Kush. Into her second joint, while reading a book about the Amityville Horror, she sees the same creature Dad saw (again, Dad never told anyone about his encounter). The creature attacked Mom. Mom struggled. She managed to make it into the kitchen. She grabbed the first thing she could. A cast-iron skillet. She commenced to whaling on the creature. Beating it back. She kept swinging, but the last stroke she put too much into it. She missed and hit herself instead, knocking her out. She woke up on the dining room floor just before the kids got home. She had a knot on her head but her hair covered it up. Thinking it may have been a hallucination brought on by the weed, she said nothing to the kids. Nor did she say anything to Dad. A year later (yes, Halloween), Mom and Dad went to a party. Leaving the now seventeen-year-old Son to watch his sister. Son couldn't sleep, so he decides to immerse himself into a horror movie. It was a story about haunted woods and a wendigo, told in "found footage" format. As soon as the movie went off he got up off the carpet to find that same annual creature pacing the floor as if waiting (it looked eerily similar to the one in the horror movie). The Son went on the offensive. Punching, kicking, grappling, yelling until he was able to beat the thing back into the shadows. This woke up the daughter, who came downstairs to see what was the matter. The Son, seeing no evidence of the thing he just fought, and remembering it looked like the wendigo from the flick, convinced his sister he was simply immersed in the show. He said nothing the next day or any day afterward. A year later, the Daughter, now ten years old, couldn't sleep. Her stomach hurt from too much candy. She went downstairs for a glass of water. Once again the creature was there. It saw her, she saw it. This time though, before it could attack, she screamed at such a high pitch it stunned the creature. The thing turned and ran to blend back into the shadows. Daughter's scream woke up everyone in the house. When asked what was wrong, Daughter didn't try to conceal. Instead, she described the monster in full detail, right down to the gray scraggly hair. Mom, Dad, and Son each looked at each other, then at the Daughter.
And that is all I can remember. The moral of the story, if you're a horror writer and your imagination starts running wild in the middle of the night, grab a pen and start writing right then and there!