Halloween 2015: Spooky Story Campfire

[welian]

HELLO ROLEPLAYERS!

Welcome to the Campfire, the public entry thread for the Halloween 2015 Spooky Story contest! Users who have submitted their story but also want to share it with the rest of the site are encouraged to post it here, even decorate it with BBCode if you'd like.

SUBMISSION LINK

INFORMATION

Total Entries

37

Posted Entries
Author	Title	Link
Lux__Wolf	Diablo	#2
kirisuto12804	Headless in Seattle	#3
CasualDragon	October Night	#4
Cryobionic	Revenge	#5
Asylumnated	Eyes	#6
Sunbather	Monolithos	#7
Annabella	A Word	#8
Fantasy Crazy	The Doll	#9
Ariettie	Play Date	#10
Shawna	Soaked in Mine	#11
Meisaki	Told You So	#12
RubyRose	Face of a Killer	#13
LuciusIII	Spines send shivers down your Spine	#14
SachiGirl	Dream Come True	#15
Upbeatdown	David	#16
Dance with Me? - Death	NessieAlways	#17
Picture Perfect	Jinx	#18
Desperate	CountDracula	#19
RED	SkyGinge	#20

Remember to make sure that your official entries are uploaded, and to keep questions, discussion, and comments in the contest information thread.

Image and banner © welian 2015

​

 

[Lux___Wolf]

DiabloLux__Wolf

It used to be Phil’s goddamn fault but now it’s clear that the devil walks the earth.

Phil was my boyfriend, was, when he bought a grey shorthair kitten, Russian Blue, and called him Diablo. We were Phil and Shane: crazy, almost in love, and young. I lived in Albuquerque; he lived in Cloud Croft three hours south, the only mountains of New Mexico I hadn’t been. I’d come earlier if Phil weren’t such an obstinate asshole. He was that guy who gladly used his car, his money, and his lips but it was how he talked, what he said, that was beyond inappropriate. But this was with me, see. If it was in public, Phil somehow magically becomes quote, unquote: more socially sensitive. Goddamn it, you hardly know what you’re saying, Phil. You don’t constantly mock and disrespect the quote, unquote: closest person you have in the galaxy. You don’t. Especially not to me. But he just never listened, that Phil. When I said turn right, he steered left, and honestly the fights were one fight, the same old cycle at the laundromat, a tiring game Phil and I daily and bitterly lost. Maybe fighting kept the rebel in him awake in an otherwise concrete nation. He loved me because I was the better fighter, we both knew that much. Anyways, he sure surprised everyone the day he held the tiny grey fur ball in one cupped hand. Aw, they coo and ask if it’s a boy or a girl. A boy, Phil said with outrage. Of course, they whisper. He never tolerated the female, for some reason he never could. There was not one woman in his life he hadn’t yet called a slut. Massive eye-roll. Aw, they feign to coo again and ask for the kitten’s name.


“Diablo,” said Phil.


Everyone shared a side-glance and asked him to repeat.


“It’s Spanish,” Phil said to gloat, “for the devil.”


Thought nothing of it at the time. Thought it was incredibly ironic when Diablo made enough chaos to make Phil holler the devil’s name a thousand times. Looking back on it now, maybe that was how. Maybe that was why. Whatever Phil did to deserve it, no one foresaw that from day one that cat was hell incarnate.


Phil never believed me of course. Not at first.


Several girls, proud cat owners, shrieked when Phil considered declawing Diablo. Don’t, they warned him. It’s the worst thing you can do to a cat. You just file the claws short. Though Phil hated to admit it, the sluts were right. Only he never filed Diablo’s claws. He was lazy. He was either busy with video games and work or passed out in bed. Sometimes Phil wasn’t home for days. Phil fed him meagerly and at irregular hours so Diablo constantly meowed. But things changed when the girls couldn’t take care of Diablo anymore. Sluts. So Phil left Diablo at home, utterly isolated for two weeks.


I felt guilty because he was seeing me. Phil was an alcoholic and I was Phil’s alcohol.


“It should be fine…,” he told me, this time with overconfidence. “Totally fine. I set several bowls around the place filled with kibble. Diablo’s fine. He’ll learn how to ration.”


I shot him a look of disbelief. He laughed as if that made everything better.


“I believe in him,” Phil said. “Little buddy, little kiddo.”


Two weeks later, I joined him returning to Cloud Croft by sundown.


We stood before what looked like a one-floor motel peeling and rotten with age. The windows were dark. He swung open the door. Heaps of trash had cockroaches scattered across the living room. The couch was frayed apart with long shredded marks. Wires to the console and controllers? Tangled and chewed through. I looked on with shock at Phil’s cluttered sink of dirty dishes and the porcelain shards of plates and mugs on the tiled kitchen floor. There were shit and urine all over too.


“Diablo!” Phil exploded.


You’d think the cat meows out of fright or insane hunger, but the apartment was oppressively silent. Phil turned on a weak light. Still, nothing stirred in the paleness. He looked at me and softened enough to sound sweet. “Diablo, c’mere boy. Show yourself.”


That was about the time when we noticed there were holes in the walls. These holes were deep and smelled of sulfur. Like Diablo had burrowed within. Suddenly it began to feel like Phil and I came home to a cat’s playground. I told Phil this, sometimes to lighten him up but sometimes to confess how disturbed I felt. What if the cat’s gone mad? What if two weeks were too long?


“Once I get my hands on you, Diablo…,” Phil flashed a light from his iPhone through the holes, peeking too closely to the darkness.


I cringed, thinking a claw was going to hook an eye but nothing happened.


That was because Diablo wasn’t in the walls. We found him later in the bathroom.


The cat perched in the middle of the bathtub, a calm monster. What a sight he was.


Diablo’s striped grey fur was matted and bristled as if he had been out in the streets. Filthy. His black shiny eyes were enormous and traumatized. His tail twitched like lightning. What disturbed me was he never meowed once. Phil, however, was too eager to punish and so rudely grabbed Diablo by the neck.


“Don’t,” I spoke up but in a blink, blood rained on everything. The cat slashed his wrists and swiped away in hysteria, finally bolting out of the bathroom. So much red, Phil. Your goddamn red. He staggered into the tub, both of us gasping loudly at one meaty vein that hanged out as cockroaches crept into the bathroom like a funeral march.


Phil lived, though. The dumbass bought another cat with longer claws, a white hairier one.


We call her Nova. Both Nova and Diablo stare forever, even when you look away.

 

[kirisuto12804]

FAIR WARNING: AS A STORY FOR THE CONTEST THIS HAS GORE CREEPY THINGS AND A SICK AND TWISTED PERSON BEHIND THE WHEEL YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Spoiler

You are with me and 3 others surrounded by darkness on a camping trip in Seattle. Only the light of a campfire glowing in the light. Were all telling ghost stories while eating candy from our baskets. Mine had the good stuff like Taffy,Tootsie rolls,gummis and breath mints. All of you begin to look at me thinking being a light witch that can only use good magic can't tell a ghost story. I smile and look at all of you. “My turn?” I ask and all of you nod.“What if you suddenly walk up in the world you have never known? What are you going to do?” You all looked at me curious and I continue “I am Christina. My Name means the barrier between heaven and hell.And This is my story. I was raised in Queensbury, New York Around the 1990s Early 2000s. To be specific to the mortals that don't know the geography. Sleepy Hollow is 2 hours away. Why did i mention Sleepy Hollow? Because i have a headless friend there named Alistair.” One of you laugh and call me crazy.I just smile.I know i'm not crazy for i am telling the truth. “Around Halloween there's a party that is very fun but when mother lets me stay up late and lets me walk the Sleepy Hollow bridge that’s when the real fun begins.The ghosts and banshees get together for their jamboree that happens once a year..There's demons with horns and saucer eyes some with fangs about the size of a saber tooth tiger.Some Fat as whales some thin as toothpicks. Heck i even saw one that didn't even bother to wear skin!Might be frightful to you however to a witch like me it was normal on Halloween night. When they have this party though they will break it up with a fiendish glee. I'm not allowed to invite Alistair.When he goes a-jogging cross the land holding a noggin' in his left hand.Demons take one look and groan and hit the road for parts unknown. Which is really mean! I don't know why people hate him. Or why they wonder why he won't take my head when he's near me. It's easy. I tell him to cut my bullies heads. Doesn't care what they look like. He just needs a head.And many people think they can't reason with him but i can. And if you doubt me i'll summon him.” They all laugh at me again. And i pulled out a jack o'lantern i made and some candles. I put them in a circle and began a spell. “Alistair the headless horsemen rise.For your time is nigh. Sadly you felt death ounce. Now to those who dare laugh at you. Show them demise!” The flames of the candles and the campfire glow green as the headless horsemen approached.He has a masculine build with old war uniform. Everyone looked at me like i snapped. He did too and you guys screamed when a voice came out of the pumpkin. “So they doubt me my dear?” He asked as one of you runs screaming to the car.Leaving you and the others behind. I nod. He chuckled and looked at you. He knew i liked you. Alistair however did not like you. He hated you. Your mistrustful, wide eyes are violet and sparkle hypnotically.He swore you were putting me under a spell.Your shoulder-length, straight, midnight black hair which has a form that reminds people of a shark's fin made him even question if you were human for even bullying me even when you knew i liked you.. Your build is rather elegant so he guessed you weren't a good runner. “Shall i punish them?” He asked. Everyone got up realising he was serious. The moment i nodded Everyone even you went into ‘Hunger games’ Mode running and hiding from Alistair. the other 3 made it except you. You almost did. You were close to the bridge. You were about to cross when Alistair sliced your head. Your bones of your 7th vertebrae confirming your fears as your head was chopped off and laying on the ground and your body vanishing. Alistair picks up your head and puts it on .the eyes glowing a fel like color but were still Violet and he chuckled. “Much better. Thank you Christina. How about i treat you to a Halloween dinner as your tribute from me since you gave me a head.”He offers to me. I smile. “Yes i mean its like they say about you.” I say as i pull out a menu for the only take out places that deliver to camping spots. Alistair looked at me curious. “What?” he asked. And i looked at him and smile evilly “Nobody can reason with a headless man.” And our laughs filled the night.

 

[CasualDragon]

October Night

​

WARNING: As a story for a Halloween contest the following story contains themes of horror as well as a disturbing scene. Please do not read if you may be triggered by such content.

Spoiler

Panting heavily and at a loss for breath I pressed my back against the rough tree bark. Steadying my breathing I listened intently for the sound of my pursuer, but all was silent. Slowly I leaned out to glance around the tree, but after casting my eyes about it was clear that it was useless. The night was blinding with not a sight of the moon or stars in the sky. It was both a blessing and a curse.


Leaning back so that my head wasn’t poking out, I closed my eyes and listened to my surroundings. The crickets that were still around chirped loudly and in the distance a bird squawked its contempt at the frosty wind that lashed against all in its path. For being early October the cold was beginning to become more and more noticeable. Not at all like the previous years where the autumn chill settled in midway through the month.


My attention was wrenched back to the current situation when a branch snapped nearby. My heart was pounding in my chest, threatening to abandon the ship of my body and take its chances in the outside world. “Got ya!” My friend yelled as he leaped around the corner with his hands out and teeth barred.


In shock I let out a yelp and tipped over onto my back. After the shock receded though we both burst out laughing and he helped me up. “Yeah yeah. How did you find me? I was certain that I had a good spot this time.”


He smirked and shrugged. “A champion never gives his secrets away.” He reached over and pounded my back before jogging in the direction of his place. “We’d better get back though; mom said that we had to be back before it got too dark. She’ll be livid.”


I grinned and pointed a finger his way. “She’ll be livid at you. Your mom thinks I’m a saint.” He just rolled his eyes and punched my shoulder playfully. We had been jogging for a couple of moments before Tim started to slow down. He looked around before he came to a complete stop.


“Uh Tim? Everything alright?”


He shook his head slowly. “We should have been back by now. And I know my property by heart, I’ve never seen this place.”


I grinned and looked around excitedly. “Well we have this opportunity. Why don’t we check it out?” Tim shrugged and followed behind. We walked around aimlessly for a bit looking for signs of familiar landmarks, but none were to be seen. After about five minutes of walking I shivered. “Does it seem like it’s getting colder to you?”


Tim just shrugged again but seemed also visibly cooler. I just brushed off the coolness as the wind growing stronger and went back to looking around. My attention was engrossed with the unfamiliar surroundings when Tim let out a strangled scream. In shock I whirled around to see that he had fallen over and was scrambling backwards on his hands and feet letting his lower back drag across the ground briefly.


His hurried attempt at getting away was pushing aside the fallen leaves and other autumn debris and leaving the ground bare. He managed to yell out that we should run before he staggered to his feet and ran off leaving me alone. “Tim, wait!” I called out, but he was gone.


I whirled around to look in the direction that Tim had been running from but nothing was there. Slowly I inched forward, desperate to see what had scared Tim so badly. The surrounding forest was eerily quiet. The wild creatures that usually ruled the night were not around, leaving only myself and the wind which howled away louder than ever.


There seemed to be a lingering shadow between the trees, shrouding whatever was hiding in there with perpetual darkness. The absence of natural light was even beginning to get under my skin. I decided to turn around and follow after Tim when a branch behind me snapped. I grinned and turned back again. “Tim you’re wasting your time. I know you’re there and you won’t scare me so cut it out and let’s head back.”


The footsteps on the ground became increasingly louder and nervously I stumbled backwards. These were way too loud to be Tim’s. “Tim? You’re not being funny now let’s go.” I rasped out. The footsteps stopped and it was just me and the silence again for one second. My heart was pounding again and this time my head felt like it was pounding too.


When it seemed like whatever had been stomping around wasn’t in the area anymore I decided to take my chances and try to run. I pushed myself forward using tree trunks as springboards for my hands. Hurriedly clawing aside branches I ran faster than I had ever run before. My breath was short and I desperately gasped for the fresh air my lungs craved but I didn’t let myself fall.


I pushed past a final tree and stumbled into a large field. Tiredly I collapsed onto the ground and prayed that nothing would come out of the forest. The trees swayed and sweat dripped into my eyes. My eyes widened and I let out a yell when something did come from the forest, a large being that was at least eleven feet tall and the hairiest creature that I had ever laid eyes on.


I could do nothing but lay in shock, too scared to run when this thing came towards me its feet making craters in the dry earth. I could do nothing when it grabbed me by my arms its hands larger than my whole body and disproportionate to its own. And I could do nothing but scream when it tore me apart as if I was nothing but a child’s ragdoll.

 

[Cryobionic]

Revenge


Right now, as of this moment, I am pressing my colt. 45 against the temple of my child's murderer.


He's looking back at me, the bastards eyes are filled to the brim with nothing by mirth, not a trace of regret can be seen in those evil, dark orbs.


The shithead is grinning at me, his teeth a disgusting yellow, tainted red with the blood of my child. I can see pieces of my sons brown locks sticking out from between his teeth, making my hand clasp tighter around my gun, and my vision start to blur with unshed tears. He killed and devoured my only child. And he's smiling.


It didn't take long to track down this monster, to find out just who was responsible for the horrific scene I had been forced to witness as I entered my sons room earlier that day. Flashes of what transpired begin to run through my mind, and unbidden Polaroid-like images of my sons mangled, unrecognizable corpse enter my mind. Pieces of his tiny body scattered all around his room, his blood staining even the stuffed animals on his little bed. The sheer anger of it all almost causes me to pull the trigger right there, but I wait, and bide my time. I want answers, I need answers.


"Why?" I ground out through clenched teeth, the cold end of my gun pressing harder into the side of the bastards head. I don't get an answer, and I didn't expect it. He just keep grinning at me, mocking my despair. I want to shout, to scream. I want to pull the trigger. I need to pull the trigger. I need to end his life the way he ended my sons, my beautiful baby boy.


Wipe that smug grin off his face.


As my finger tightens around the trigger, I expect to see his eyes flash with sudden panic, to see his grin falter even a little bit. But neither of these things happen. Instead, a look of sheer victory flashes over his face, and his smile widen, stretches far out to the corners of his cheeks as if he's finally getting what he wants.


I've had enough.


I pull the trigger.


And the mirror is splattered in red.

 

[dwale]

Eyes

*Warning: May obtain gory, creepy, sensitive and frightful elements. Viewer Discretion is advised*

​

Eyes are the keepers to a person's soul, or so they say. They reflect the pain, the joy and the despair that the individual is feeling in that very moment. They stare upon another as their hand makes way to the already bruised skin of the other. The fist connects with a sickening thump, and the eyes of the victim soon grow dull and dim. There are no longer any emotions, only emptiness. I never liked eyes.


My own eyes stare about the room and come to rest on the shadowy figure on the bed. A swarm of haunting memories come back through my brain and make me shiver with fear. I try to remind myself that I no longer have to be afraid. I have killed my demons.


I stared with fear from the closest as a quivering, prepubescent boy with my dark curls still intact, as the man my mother loved so very much took her life from her. Dulled out her eyes and broke her emotions. She had been a broken woman far before that, but now she was snapped clean in half. She was no longer there to care for me.


I watched as this man drug my mother's bloody and bruised body from her place on the chipping wood floor. Her blood stained the old, fading carpet that had been given to her by her own mother. I remained in the closet and merely watched as the man drug my mother to the woods to bury her. I would find her corpse later on by accident.


Nobody asked questions when my mother was found missing. Why would they? We weren't of any importance to anyone in town and my mother's family lived half-way across the world. He took to beating me next, deriving pleasure from the pain he caused others. His fist caused bruises beneath my skin, fractures of my bones and bleeding on more than one occasion. I often missed school, unable to move from my spot on my bedroom floor as each inhale and exhale burned the pink flesh of my youthful lungs.


The moment I turned eighteen, I left. I took nothing, not even an extra pair of clothing, because I didn't need any reminders. The permanent scar tissue and aches of my bones reminded me plenty. I took shelter under a bridge several miles away. I often shivered throughout the night, falling ill more times than I can count, but it was much better than being in the grasps of that cruel man.


It took several years before I had my hotel running. Several changes. The curls I had once loved as a child now kept at a buzz cut and I became an entirely different person. I made a life for myself. The past was the past. I had an Inn. It was small, red and named after my deceased mother in a way that was subtle, in case that man were to search for me.


Unfortunately for him, he'd messed with the wrong people and was forced to go on the run. That is how he found his way to my lovely little Inn on the outside of town. I was unrecognizable to him. Years had caused my features to shift in a way that nobody from my past could ever recognize. I recognized him on sight, however, and worked to tug at my suit jacket, as if the scars he had left would somehow jump out from beneath my clothing. They weren't visible to him, but they were burning against my flesh as his panicked eyes found my own.


"A room, a room, I need a room," He told me, his eyes glancing behind him every few moments. His voice was just the same and sent shivers down the expanse of my spine.


I had said nothing, but gave him his request. He was set up in the room across from the one I had claimed as my own, and for good reason.


I sit now and stare out the window of the hotel room, the memories fading for now. The rain slithers down the glass panes, like an invisible serpent. My eyes travel back to the man on the bed and I stand, right hand closed tightly around two objects. My approach is slow, as if he is going to spring from the bed.


I know better than that, though. His mouth is hung open in terror, his hands clutching to the pale sheets of the bed he had been laying on. His long raven hair was spread out around his face, almost like a frame, and his dark beard still sat thick as ever. The most noticeable thing though, were the streams of crimson that poured from the dark sockets of his eyes, for his orbs were what I held in the tight grip of my hand.


The pain he had caused me and the fate he had laid upon my mother, were now avenged. He could never hurt me again. Not while I hold his eyes.

 

[Sunbather]

Monolithos


No.


A weak whimper finds its way through the room. The daylight, restricted by the clouds of this grey, rainy day seems to avoid illuminating the house. I can't blame it. What am I saying... It's light. It has no feelings. I need to calm down. No. Stay rational, or you'll go insane. I feel so cold, but why? I still have all my clothes. The heater's still on, I think. I have to throw up. Release. I need release. Something. Maybe it's not throwing up. Release. No. It's different. Still, I need release. Coughing. No. Choking? Maybe. I feel like I cut my wrists and bleed out. I'm wet. My whole body is a puddle, soaked and just so cold. No. I know that's not true. Or do I? Please. Release. It's a million times worse because I can't get any release.


"Time of death?"


"Approximately 2:17, just before Ashton got on his route."


Ashton. Was that the man who had come here earlier? I wonder if I felt cold or wet to him. Did he feel my pulse and immediately pulled back because it was so uncomfortable? It's like my fists bang on a door that won't budge. Just that this door is my body. No, stop it, I'm being weird. Metaphors won't help me. Release. I need to think, stay calm, find a solution. Snap out of it. No. I must be dripping off the stretcher they take me away on. No.


„It's just... confusing, don't you think?“


„What? That some young kid just drops? Nah, not really.“


„Always a pleasure to work with you, Alex.“


„Oh come on, how many of them have you carried away now? Overdose, pills... Maybe weak heart. We'll see. It's just what happens.“


„I guess...“


I don't like how much I feel the mens words. Especially this guy. Alex? I was like him too. I didn't feel anything. Barely anything mattered. It just happens. But how can... can THIS just happen? No. It's unnatural. No. Shit, who gives a damn about natural... I just... please... At least let me die. I can't take this. Release.


The drive was awfully pleasing. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I moved. Not on my own, the streets are just in terrible conditions around these parts. They closed my eyes. I'm not sure yet whether this is better or worse. Feels like it could be both. Still no release. Why do I feel this?




No...





No...





No...




I think I'm insane. Or this is a dream. A nightmare. Just the worst nightmare. Release? Sleep paralysis, right? You can't move, see and feel strange things. It has to be this.


No.


No?


No.


Please. Release. No. I think it's been three days. No. Maybe four. I never bothered to learn the average scheduele of pathologists. Maybe this is like a house. A burning house. Someone desperately bangs on the walls from the inside, as the fire slowly consumes them. Unbearable pain. The knowledge nothing will save them. Outside are those that are frantically trying to help. Then they are grieving over the lost ones. Then it gets better. Then they forget. Is this gonna happen to me?


Maybe. Maybe? Maybe. The one time I needed a no.


Release.


No.


I cannot scream. But it feels like it. And it hurts. Here they come again. A man and a woman. They are way too good looking to spend their days with bodies. Maybe that's fate. Balance. No.


„... it just seems weird, don't you think?“





„I guess. Maybe she just needs some distance. You always get so obsessed with these things, Danny.“





„She can have distance though! It's just... I don't know... I feel helpless.“


Helpless. No. You don't know. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. I can't take it. Shut up. I feel like I'm being burned alive, but I don't actually burn. It's even worse. I can't put out any flames. I can't jump into a lake or roll on the floor. Release. But there's none. How dare you feel helpless? No.


„... so... one last time, right?“


„Mhm. Something just doesn't feel right.“


„It's just heart failure, it happens. Sad though.“


She doesn't sound sad at all. Is she... happy? He didn't notice. I can tell. I can't even see his eyes, but he didn't notice. I can tell. No. I hate how their voices echo. The room here's just so closed off. I feel like I'm burried in a box. Wrapped in cloth. Oh god, that's gonna happen. No! Why did I say that... No. They are gonna wrap me up, burry me. This has to end. Please. I can't be like this forever. Under ground. Please. I'll do anything.


„Hmph... Okay, looks like it. Can you finish up? I promised my uncle to help him drive his stuff into his new place.“


„Sure, no problem.“


I can hear a slight electric charge as they hug each other. I never heard that before. Her hair seems to burn. I'm thinking about fire too much. No. I want to burn, it's natural. Here she comes. She's gonna push me back in, won't she? Into that box. The darkness. She's gonna keep my eyes open. And around me... I wonder if the others, next to me, above me, below me... are they dead? Or like me? Pale on pale. Lost next to lost. Release. Release. Don't put me in there. Please. No. The latex gloves... They feel so numb on my arm. I hate it.


"Oh, I'm sorry."


Who is she talking to? He is gone, no? Danny?


„Just gotta close the lid.“


Did she mean me? The gloves again. I hate when she touches me with them. Please, talk to me. Every thought screams with desire to be recognized. I stare at you. Please...


„Mhm, I know."


Yes. Release!.You know! Please!





"Just like the last few."


I...

 

[kou]

≈A Word≈

​

It all begins with a word. Simple, is it not? Written upon paper from your very hand in order to create the darkest machinations which dwell in your mind and take residence in your soul. A poet exploits his emotions and a writer writes his experiences.


You do not.


You've simply ceased doing what you loved so much, it has been quite a long time since you have done something that didn't require dragging it out. Perhaps you are simply old, perhaps you are tired, perhaps this just wasn't the correct occupation for you. The words do not come anymore and the ideas you once had are no longer vivacious and brimming with energy. You've grown fond of resorting to the gory aspect of horror instead of incorporating the psychological virtues which create it.


Tiresome. Had you known that this was all you were destined for then you certainly would not have taken this path. Such a waste of unobtainable time, you've truly thrown away everything you once had without a further thought. Can you even recall the last time you've exchanged conversation with someone? Do you recollect what you said to them? Did you initiate contact or brush them off as if they were never there?


How long has it been since you were able to feel your fingers?


Numbness is a reminder that we have gone past pain. It has seeped into your very bones and settled itself in your essence, encasing you with its inability to feel and enveloping you in its cold embrace. Your fingers are numb, you should possibly stop.


Stop.


The command is simple however your fingers are still clutching the pen which scratches frantically across the paper. No, you must finish what you've started or else there will be repercussions. Consequences that you do not wish to experience.


The pen continues at an erratic pace, the ink spilling out freely however the words produce nothing. No fear, no terror, no despair like they used to when you were enjoying the daily process of writing. There is a sudden 'BANG!' behind you and you instantly quicken in order to prevent the inevitable.


They said you had time.


They said he wouldn't come.


You hear the scratching across the wooden floorboards, sweat dripping down your brow as you refrain from looking back.


Never look back. It was a lesson that the others had learned well, they had taken you and a select few once you started to become popular and the public began to notice. They stated that you would produce stories for them seeing as he liked stories.


The scraping increases in its noise, you have not finished. YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED. This dawns on you as you sit there in the seat they have provided you with. He is coming.


Why didn't you finish the story? Why didn't yo--


Hands grip the back of your neck, normal hands. They feel warm and slightly clammy, you do not turn around.


He breathes down your back.


Time passes slowly and then you are jolted from your seat, screaming as he drags you down towards the depths of Hell.


You should have finished.


You did not.


There will be another.

 

[thoroughfare]

WARNING: Contains gore, please do not read ahead if this triggers you.

Written on a different website by me; link. Slight changes were made for a more scary effect.

​

Spoiler

“Welcome to Miss Fenny’s Dollhouse!”

Little Maya looked up at the sign and smiled, Miss Fenny had told her that she could make a doll on her seventh birthday! Maya thought this was the best birthday present ever! Maya skipped straight into the light brown house on the hill. The inside of the house felt as if it was made for her, she would stay there forever if she could. Maya smiled and skipped right up to Miss Fenny, "Miss Fenny! Miss Fenny!" She chanted.

"Yes, dear?"

"It's my birthday! Can I make a doll?"

"Oh! Of course, I'm sure you'll make the perfect doll!"

Miss Fenny asked Maya what she wanted the doll to look like, Maya explained that she wanted it to have the same hair color as her own, a nice honey brown and it had to be down with a braid as a headband. She also decided on a fabric that went yellow into green for the dress, and lastly, she wanted her to have bright blue eyes, like that of the ocean.

"Okay Maya," Miss Fenny started, "Would you like some cookies?"

Maya looked down at the plate of chocolate cookies with pieces of mint in them and nodded furiously, she grabbed one from the plate and quickly shoved it in her mouth without any hesitation.

Suddenly, she couldn't move. Maya tried to move her arm, but she couldn't, it was as if she was weighed down by three thousand elephants. Soon enough, Miss Fenny walked out. She held a scalpel, a knife and a spoon. Maya sat in the once comfortable chair confused, she couldn't speak either.

Miss Fenny stepped towards Maya, “You'll make the prettiest doll." She said to her, Maya tried to run, she was terrified. Miss Fenny held the knife to the inside of Maya's arm and started to cut it. She cut straight to the bone, and continued to tear it open. Maya couldn't help but watch, for she couldn't move her head. Miss Fenny ripped out all the veins and innards and threw them to the side, forming a crimson stain on the wooden floor.

Miss Fenny continued to rip out Maya's innards, "The prettiest doll, the prettiest doll."

Soon enough, Miss Fenny was done with Maya's body, Maya found that she could not die, it'll never be over. Miss Fenny grabbed the spoon and scooped out Maya's chocolate brown eyes and replaced them with brand new bright blue ones. She then did her hair just as Maya had described, and Maya was the prettiest doll. At least Miss Fenny didn’t break her promise.

Seven years later, a little girl named Amanda skipped into Miss Fenny's living room. She skipped right over to her favorite doll, Maya, she had always thought she was the prettiest. Maya watched as the girl touched her feet, though she still couldn't move it made her happy to have human contact. Amanda then skipped to Miss Fenny.

"Miss Fenny! Miss Fenny!" She chanted.

"Yes, dear?"

"It's my birthday! Can I make a doll?"

"Oh! Of course, I'm sure you'll make the perfect doll!"

 

[Ticci Toby Rogers]

Warning: The story you are about to read contains blood, gore, and graphic depictions of torture. Reader discretion is advised.

​

Spoiler

Cara blinked awake, fighting the darkness in the room, as well as her own blurring vision. She tried to move, but only found pain surging through her body. Her ribs were on fire, and her back was burning. Cara found her hands tightly bound over her head, and her feet stretched far below her. She could smell a vinegar like smell, that burned her nose and throat, and she could taste blood. She heard a cold, overly sweet, voice in the distance saying, “Oh, good… You’re awake…” Cara saw a gleam in the distance, in the direction of the voice. A dark figure got closer to her, with the gleaming item getting closer with the figure, and slowly taking the shape of a knife. The figure spoke, in the same cold voice, only now the figure was much closer, “It was so nice of you to come over to play…” Cara barely had time to react, when she saw the figure turn a lever, and a tharp pain course through her body, as her limbs were pulled in two different directions, and her ribs did the same. She let out a scream, and let her mind travel back to when this nightmare began.


It had started the night before, when Cara heard a knock on the door. She got off the leather couch to answer it, to find an assumed woman standing in the doorway. the twilight made the woman appear shadowy and unreal. The woman’s voice was high, cold, and sickeningly sweet, as she said, “Is Rachel here?”


“I don’t know anyone named Rachel…” Cara said, politely.


The shadow woman said nothing, only turned and walked away. Cara simply shrugged, and closed the door, before heading upstairs to bed.


Cara had woken up and made breakfast that morning, like every other day, but something was off today. It started with her dog, Tiny. Usually the bulky St. Barnard would be at her feet begging for a slice of the mouth watering bacon, but not today. Tiny was nowhere to be found.


“Tiny!” Cara called, worry seeping into her voice. The bacon in the pan was sizzling, and the smell and sound usually drew the dog to the kitchen in a heartbeat. Cara looked around, abandoning the food in favour of finding her guard dog. She found no trace of the dog on the second floor, or the ground level.


As she walked back into the kitchen, and towards the burning bacon, she saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye. She turned around to find nobody there, but soon became aware of an absence of sound in the kitchen. Cara slowly turned around to find the bacon that had been burning only a moment ago, wasn’t cooking any more. In fact, the pan had been moved to the nearby counter.


Before Cara could investigate, she heard a thud from her back door. She slowly edged towards the door and eased it open, to a horrific sight. Cara screamed, as she laid eyes on the massive dog her brother had given her when she moved out of the house, skinned, with his eyes gouged out. Cara began to cry, out of fear, sadness and disgust, unaware of the growing danger behind her, as the rag soaked with the sickly sweet syrup was held to her face. She had very little time to react before everything went black.


Cara was pulled back into her current situation, when her mysterious assailant started carving into her skin with the knife. Cara cried out as a pattern was drawn on her chest, in a seemingly endless stab of pain. When the knife stopped cutting, Cara could see the pentagram carved on her chest, and felt her heart sink.


Cara screamed at the top of her lungs, “Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name! Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven! Give us this day our da-”


Cara’s prayer was cut off by a rag that was shoved down her throat. “Hush dear…” The dark figure said, “We’re only going to play a little game…” With that the figure, turned the wheel more, and her limbs were, again, pulled apart, as her ribs tid the same thing. Cara could feel her ribs splitting under the pressure, and her arms and legs breaking.


Cara sobbed into the rag.


“What was that dear?” The figure asked, removing the rag.


“Why are you doing this to me?” Cara repeated, sobbing.


“Because you answered the door…” The figure responded, while turning the lever, once more.


Cara screamed, as her ribcage was forcibly ripped from her body in two separate directions, and her bones snapped in a number of places. Cara was still alive when she saw her attacker begin to devour the flesh clinging to her ribs. She was still alive when she saw the figure creep into the light. She was still alive when she saw the horribly disfigured man, with rotting teeth and yellow eyes. He had a hunched back, and his face was rotting away, maggots crawling from the flesh on his face. His hands were scarred, burned, and bloody, like two charred spiders, gripping her flesh between them. The man was dressed like a small child, wearing a My Little Pony t-shirt, and overalls, all stained with Cara’s blood. The last thing Cara could remember, as she lay there bleeding out was the creature (there was no way this was a man) saying, “I had fun today… Maybe you can come over again and play some more? But I can understand if you don’t… I’ll just find a new playmate!”


Cara let the blackness engulf her, as she let out her last breath, her last thought, “Nobody answer the door!”


(I watch too many horror movies...)

 

[Satan]

Soaked in mine

​

I just don’t understand anything anymore. I don’t understand why i always wake up at 2:57 AM with cold sweat and heavy breaths. I don’t understand why these nightmares scare me so much, nothing in them is recognizable to me. I don’t understand why it makes my heart go crazy, beating like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode until my crystal blue eyes realize i’m in my room again, clenching my quilt in fistfulls. The screams sound so real, like they’re still there when I wake up. The only evidence I have of these dreams is in my mind… and on my arms where it looks like someone grabbed me. A handprint, a woman’s handprint with her nails scratching my arms the very slightest. The hand is a purple and burgundy colored bruise with splats of green and yellow, along with four nail punctures where dried blood was left behind.


Using the top of my wrist, I wipe the hot sweat off my forehead and neck, wiping it onto my quilt. The room was dark, a silent ringing in my ears. I laid back down flat on my mattress, staring at the ceiling… something in the atmosphere didn’t seem normal? I didn’t exactly feel like the only one in the room, like the only presence there. My eyes twitched side to side as I stared into the blank space. I told myself “You’re just paranoid, go to bed you noob.” and closed my eyes.


Halfway asleep, I felt a cold surface grip my foot. Shooting my eyes open, I shop up and sat against the headboard of my bed, looking at the end of the mattress… Nothing was there, no one was there. The pit in my stomach began to dig deeper again, a lump in my throat rising as every time I swallowed… It would only rise higher, like a bobber in a lake. It felt like my heart tightened and my intestines knotted together, This doesn’t make sense! My mind's playing tricks on me… I need sleep. I need a good night's rest and my paranoia isn't letting me, that's all it is.


I stood up and turned on the lamp that sat on my night stand, walking over to my bathroom. I turned it;s light on, looking in the mirror after I walked in. Opening the mirror, I got out the sleeping pills and closed the cabinet. Looking down at the bottle, i pressed down and twisted the cap, popping it off. Picking out two of the cyan blue, oval shaped pills, I plopped them into my mouth, turning on the cold water and dipping my head down, lazily taking a drink from the faucet. Swallowing, I wiped the water from her corners of my mouth, shutting off the water. I looked into the mirror and dropped the whole bottle of pills on the white tiled floor. A woman, dark frizzy hair that looked as if she hadn't bathed in ages, her skin filled with wrinkles and a grey tint, her eyes were black… all black and her clothes were torn. I didn’t notice before she turned her head that… there was a giant gash on the right side of her face, her flesh torn from her lower cheek bone, to the corner of her lip. It looked fresh… yet so rotten. She now had blood all over her clothes, where did that come from?!


Spinning around, she was gone. There was only one problem with this… that concerned me. She was the woman from my dreams, my nightmares. She was the one to scream like an angry siren, to grab and harm me with her bare hands. I was breathing heavy now, turning back around towards the mirror to see it was cracked and bloody words spread across it.


“Soaked in mine..” the blood spelled.


What was that supposed to mean? Soaked in your what? That--That doesn’t even make sense. Darting out of the bathroom, i crawled back on my bed and got my cell phone, dialing 9-1-1.


“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” A woman spoke.


“Hi, Hi! Th--there was a woman in my house. Mid forties?! Bloody.. torn clothing!-- H--hello?” I rambled into the phone, only to hear a buzzing sound.


“Soaked in mine…” A sour, hushed voice spoke into the phone, causing my eyes to water and heart rate to speed up even more.


“Who--who are you?” I whispered back. “What do you mean? Why are you doing this, what do you want?!” I started to get worked up, both angry and upset about this.


Beep--Beep--Beep--Beep..


The line cut off. My trembling fingers dropped my phone to the ground, leaning as close to the bed's headboard as possible. I was truly scared, confused. Was I going mad? Were these dreams literally getting to my head, was I believing this?! No, I wasn’t. I couldn’t be.


Hurrying to my feet, I got my slippers on and a grey cardigan, racing for the door to go outside and run. Run somewhere, somewhere away from my home. Home sweet Home they say? Home sweet Home, Not! My small hand gripped the silver knob of my bedroom door, twisting it and yanking it open to be face to face… with her.


My breath hitched as her Black sclera eyes looked into my ocean blue ones. Her lips were ajar and so were mine...but trembling. I was choking on words, on air.. on possibly anything, I wasn’t hallucinating. The dark veins traced along her eyes and down her neck, her breaths sounding like wheezes.


“Soaked.. in.. mine..” She whispered in that same creepy, hushed tone.


“Who...What?” I stuttered, only to feel the hand mark on my arm start to burn, causing me to cry out in pain as she smiled wickedly, revealing dirty, bloody teeth.


“You are soaked in mine. You. Are. Mine.” The woman said steadily and the last thing I saw was darkness, and the last thing I felt was a pinch.

 

[iMeisaki]

Meisaki

(Note! I got it exactly at 1000 words luckily! Enjoy!) Viewer Discretion is advised. Disturbing, gore, and explicit content will be read. You have been warned.


I Told You So
​

Crunch, crunch, crunch.


The repetition of the crunch noises continued until I halted and looked at the dark, mystified house got into my view. We were out here, in this god forsaken forest by ourselves. My heart’s racing. She dared me. I have to show her that I’m brave. The only good thing was that she’d be waiting for me outside.


“Go on! I’ll be out here to say I told you so! It’s scary! Don’t be a chicken! I went in there before. Now go!” She yelled out, gesturing with her long, bony fingers to shoo me off. Well off I went.


Creeeeeeeak.


The noise sent goosebumps down my painted arms. I pushed the door open and saw nothing but darkness. I turned on the flashlight app on my phone that was just about thirty percent and looked back at her. Her devilish grin was the last thing I looked at, before the door closed behind me and I was left alone.


I looked in front of me, seeing just an empty house. Some graffiti on the walls, cobwebs in the corners of the ground, and a stair case that led to a large hallway. I was dared to go upstairs and into the last room on the right. Where they would be. If you saw them, you would see a whole new interior. I gulped, sweat sliding down my temples. I took one step on the stairs.


Squish.


Oh my god. What did I just step on. My eyes widened and my heart beat jolted. My lips were quivering as I already wanted to cry. I looked down and raised my foot. I wanted to gag, it was a huge slug. Splattered now. At least it wasn’t something more terrifying. My attention went back to going up these horrific stairs that seemed like it would take an hour to go up on. Slowly, I went up. One by one, I had to take it slow.


Finally, I made it up there and looked to the right of me. Seeing ripped up curtains blowing lightly in the air, covering a window smashed open. I took a step forward, my heart dropping each step as if I was at a loud concert. To the right, a door open. The room looked trashed as if someone was staying there before. I continued walking. To the left. Looked like a study room. Empty bookcases with half ripped books laying on the ground. Others looked like they were decomposing.


Skreeeeeeeek.


I felt my ears pierce as I fell on my knees, holding my ears. My breathing shortened, where did that come from?! I looked behind me, not seeing anything until I took a double take. I tried bringing my flashlight up to it. It was something. Something with bright orange eyes, a black shadow, placing their hand on a burning radiator. I was horrified, seeing their skin start to smoke. My heart stopped, I saw them smirk. I quickly ran down the hallway. I was reaching my destination but now.. I had nowhere to go.


Quickly shutting the door behind me, I laid back on the door and panted. I was shaking and shivering. I didn’t know what to do. Where was my friend? Didn’t she hear the noises from inside? Couldn’t she hear me running through this bony house? I was looking at my feet, slowly bringing my flashlight up to the room. My eyes widened and my mouth gaped. The rocking chair moving with a woman appearing and disappearing every second. Holding what seemed like a child. A father looking out the window with his hands in his pockets. His watch hanging out and swaying side to side. Ticking every second.


“You’re going to die in here tonight.” They all hummed. I stood up and shook.


“Wh-Who are you?! Is this some type of sick prank?!” I asked, crying now.


No answer. It was silent now. They all turned around. With terrifying looks upon their faces. The man walked fast towards me and grabbed me by the shoulders.


“Look at what she did to me?!” He asked, shrieking as he showed me his true self. His left eyeball pushed in, gushing blood. His cheek and lips open wide open, making a big hole in his face. His other eye looked like it was being pushed out of his skull. He then stopped shaking me and stepped back, opening his coat as his chest was exposed. But there was one thing missing, his whole chest. All that was exposed was his rib cage.


“You’re going to die in here tonight.” The woman murmured. My gaze went over to her as she stood up and walked towards me, sobbing.


“Look at what she did to us..” She said, unraveling the blanket around her child, exposing the worst thing I have ever seen in my life. The child had been cut up and sewn all over again. It’s neck was open, causing the child’s head to hang back. It’s arms and hands were sewn recklessly. The mother had sobbed and covered the child again. She passed the baby to the man and walked closer to me, staring into my eyes. Her orange eyes stared into my soul. She was missing ears. A red line went across her hairline.


“We’re going to die tonight.” They repeated. The woman turned around. The skin on the back of her neck was missing. Her hair was ripped out and multiple knives were shoved into her back. She took the baby and they all gazed at me.


“We’re going to die tonight.”


I shook my head and cried. “No! I’m not going to die!”


I felt something sharp pierce my back, turning my insides.


“Yes you are…” A familiar whisper cried in my ear. It was her.


“I told you so..” She pushed me down. I couldn’t react. All I could was lay down and accept my death, seeing that devilish grin one last time before I left.

 

[RubyRose]

Spoiler

“Does this look like the face of a killer to you?” The words sprang easily to my mouth, a playful grin splitting my features despite the skip in my heartbeat.


“Nope! But that’s the problem! It’s the ones that don’t look like killers that you have to look out for.”


“Whatever you say.”


There was a pause and the quiet of an empty lobby settled over the both of us. She looked at me again, this time with a pitying smile.


“So you’ve got the late shift tonight?”


As if it weren’t already obvious. “It’s still better than working the 11pm - 7am shift. I don’t know how the night auditors cope.”


“I don’t know how you cope in a hotel when it’s dark. It’s creepy.”


“Well that’s why you’re housekeeping and I’m Front Desk.”


“You just can’t handle getting dirty.” She replied with a laugh.


If only you knew. “I suppose you’re right. I have enough trouble cleaning up after myself.”


“Well I’m out. Football game tonight!”


“Have fun with that.” I said, though I really wished she would stay longer. Time always passed quicker when there was someone to talk to. And things became eerie when you were alone in the lobby.


The swish of the door closing signaled her exit. “Might as well get to work.” I muttered to myself, making myself busy. The hours slid by sluggishly and I found myself staring at the last name on the list of check-ins.


That name is just like mine...was… Then again, it’s not like Williams is a very rare last name. A lot of people had it. My eyes moved to the first name and I was stunned to find that that was exactly the name I had, once upon a time.


Well that’s odd… but not unheard of. Taylor isn’t exactly a rare name, either. I wonder where they’re from. I checked the system and was disappointed to find that they had booked online- meaning I would have to retrieve their address and what not from them upon check-in.


It seemed forever for 9 to finally come around. By then the world had grown dark around the hotel. The voice of the wind howled and screamed, angrily pelting rain at the window so hard it sounded like someone was beating on a drum.


“It is not going to be fun to drive home in that.” I whined… and then everything became dark.


“Great! When is the manager going to buy a generator for this damn hotel?!” I snarled as I collected flashlights to hand out to those in the hotel. If my coworker thought the hotel was creepy at night, she should see it when the lights were out.


The sigh I released was huge and filled with relief when I had finished, my heart still pounding erratically. I set up a poorly lit lamp at the front desk, having nothing better to work with. I checked my watch for the time and felt my mouth curve. I was almost home free.


Just as my mind began a victory dance, the front door swished open. My skin rose in goosebumps at the chill that rushed in. The person was cast in shadows, and a steady plunking sound of water splashing onto carpet could be heard as they moved through the lobby.


“Quite a storm raging out there.” I said.


“It really is. I’m lucky to have made it here in one piece.” Their voice was oddly familiar and I wondered if there was a chance I knew them from somewhere…


“So do you have a reservation?”


“Yes. Taylor Williams.” They stated simply. I squinted in an attempt to see their face… that voice really sounded like someone I knew.


“Alright Taylor. What brings you to the area?”


“I’ve got an old friend I need to pay a visit to.”


“Oh? How’re they doing?”


“Well I think... I don’t know, haven’t had the chance to ask them yet. How are you doing?”


“I’m fine, thanks for asking. Photo ID and Credit Card.” I asked, accepting the requested information. I took down the credit card first before checking the address on the photo ID. The flashlight lit up the card and I dropped it in surprise. I could feel my heart pound against my ribs as I reached down to make sure… but no. That was me. That picture was my face before. That was my address. I swallowed thickly, flashing the light up into the person’s face.


It’s me.


I mean… I didn’t look like that anymore. I had to change after what I had done… but that was me standing there, staring back. Same hair, same eyes and mouth before the surgery. My stomach twisted as that mouth twisted into a sinister grin.


“You forgot something.” That was my voice. The one thing that hadn’t changed.


“W-What?”


“You forgot something.” They stated again, raising their hand to my eye level. Black in the dim lighting, it turned red when the light hit it. Bile rose in my throat at the palpitating thing. I grasped at my chest, feeling a small gust of relief when I realized my heart was still in place.


“I-I don’t know what you mean.” I replied defiantly, standing my ground.


The memory flashed into my mind, despite my words. The red that welled from my knife as it slid over pale skin… how difficult it was to cut through bone… how warm and wet it felt to reach into that person’s chest, seeking the organ that meant my freedom.


“You Wasted.” They snarled at me. “And now it’s time to pay up.”


Fingers dug into my chest... My fingers, protective in their grip, trying to lock my frantic heart safely away.


“That’s not me! I’m not a killer now!” I shrieked.


“You are. Just look at your face.” They pointed to the face they wore. “It’s yours. It’s the face of a killer. And it’s going to kill again.”

 

[LuciusIII]

Spines send shivers down your Spine


By Luc Wiegers, A.K.A. LuciusIII


“When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it.”


―Caitlyn Siehl


Frederick closed his father’s journal, stroking the old leather it was bound in. This journal was the only thing left of his father, the only thing that showed Derreck Bucksburry had ever existed. The government papers didn’t show it, he had had no house or property, he just did not exist as far as anyone was concerned. Anyone outside of the community, that is. His father had been famous in the group of people that hunted evil across the world. Evil existed in all kinds of ways, from ghouls to fairies. But the worst by far were the monsters that had killed his father.


They are foul creatures, not like the monsters a nine year old could wrap his head around. They are like humans in the most horrible way possible; they think like us. Their sight would be enough to give a healthy man a heart attack, but that is not the scary part. No, not by far. Frederick’s father had always said to be smart instead of strong, for that was what makes humans human. But these creations of the night are just as smart as we are, perhaps smarter, and they have the strength of a charging rhino. The spikes that grow out of their spine irregularly look like a broken comb, and their jaws stretch so far a normal muscle would snap. Their eyes are barely what we call eyes, they’re more like a rubbery black sack of liquid that they somehow see through, and their skin is a pale shade of blue, like what you would find on a rotten corpse.


“May the creators of these asshats rot in hell for what they have made.” Those words were the last thing Derreck Bucksburry had said to his son before he walked into that house where the creatures hid. And those will be the words that cross Frederick’s mind every time he thinks of his dad: The man who had saved his life multiple times, the man who had taught him sacrifice and bravery. These creatures were not simply created by a deity, like humans, werewolves and vampires. No, you must understand that these things, these monstrosities were made by a man in a laboratory. That is the reason why they think like humans; they were designed to look be like us, but something probably went wrong in the process. Now these things live in abandoned places, old factories, and rarely visited woods: at almost every people-less location, they are waiting. Waiting for a child, or a lost tourist, to wander in and be feasted upon. Some get eaten whole, others survive and turn. Not much is known about the creatures in the community, which is why they have no name. The only thing Frederick is sure of, is that they turn new ones and can only be killed by drowning. Nothing else will harm them, and that is what makes them fearless killers.


Frederick put away the journal and grabbed one of the papers he had stacked on his desk. “Florida woman disappeared and left nothing”, “Child lost in city found chowed up”, and “Are there beasts in our town?” were some of the headlines of the past week. The creatures had been coming up to urban areas to find more prey, and several sightings had occurred. Frederick decided to phone a teenage girl who had seen something to find out more. “Good evening ma’am, my name is John Dove and I work with the New York daily. Could you tell me anything about the animal you saw?” It was a common trick used by hunters; pretending to be journalists could get you a lot of intel on a lot of things. The girl told him everything he had already expected: there had been a pale, blue creature crawling around in her street. It had had blue, bony spikes that grew out of his back and it had slashed a cat’s head off when it came too close. Frederick was sure of it: the Spines, as he called them, were advancing and were on their way to the city.


The sound of the staircase creaking set off a chain of events: Frederick was a little startled, and because of that he almost dropped the bowl he was carrying downstairs. Responding to his movement, there was a shuffling sound in the basement where he was headed, and after that the sound of a chain suddenly being pulled. “I have to get that fixed!” Frederick was talking to himself as he walked down the steps. “Hi dad! I have your dinner right here!” Frederick always tried to stay positive while doing this: it was the worst part of his life, but positivity could help. He grabbed the piece of meat out of the bowl and threw it at the Spine chained up in the corner. “Did you know the Spines are coming into the cities? Last Thursday, a little boy was found. Well, at least his remains were. Your brothers and sisters are a bunch of barbarians, dad. But not you! I’m going to find a cure and make you all better again!” The stinking, pale blue, spiked body in the corner didn’t respond. Did he understand what Frederick was saying? Or was he just trying to keep his son focused, while his sister snuck down the stairs and opened her frightening mouth?

 

[SachiGrl]

​

Can you imagine, you were playing video games one night while your girlfriend is sleeping on your bed? She can’t sleep with the light on, so you’re playing in the dark to appease her. She can’t sleep with noise, so you wear your eighty dollar headphones to hear the fantastical music of your fantasy game. All you hear is your game: swords clashing, characters dancing, imaginary birds flapping, large domesticated beasts passing with a thump, thump, thump. All this, while you’re engulfed in darkness. At last, your hunger heightens and you must pull yourself from your fantasy world. Reality is pulling on your chain and it is ripping your hand’s melted flesh over your controller.


The house was quiet and dark. Everyone, but you was sleeping. You can hear only your footsteps as you go downstairs to the kitchen and when you open the fridge, you can hear the soft electrical hum. Before you could even decide what to eat, you hear a loud shriek coming from your room. It’s your girlfriend. You run upstairs to see what scared her. By the time you made it to your room, she was crawling right passed you. She was panting irregularly and whining frightfully. You tried to get a hold of her, but she kept crawling passed you and you fell on the floor with her. You tried to stop her from moving, but she kept dragging you with her. Your girlfriend has never done this before. Inside, your heart was racing with fear. You wondered why was she being this way. Your hands became sweaty and was losing grip on her rapid movements.


At last, your friend from across your room opened his door with a tiresome yet worried expression. Sweat covered your face as you looked at your friend somewhat relieved. Your girlfriend continued to crawl underneath him as if he wasn’t even there. Her breaths were jagged and fearful. She whimpered like a dog who has been beaten. Traces of her blood was on the floor from scrapping her knees against the tile. Your friend grabbed her arms while you took hold of her legs. Once you both got her, she didn't put much of a fight. She was more like dead weight. She was barely moving once she was pinned down. You, yourself, felt out of breath as you held your girlfriend. You and your friend's eyes met sharing a bewildered look. What the hell was going on?


You and your friend dragged her on to the toilet seat and she moved her body aimlessly, as if she had no balance, and her eyes were fluttering backwards. She was speaking incoherently at first then started saying that she couldn't see. She couldn't see. She couldn't see. Your hands were shaking at the sight of her. You had to slap her. Finally, she froze still, looking directly at you with a dazed expression. Her pupils were dilated. Was she still sleeping? You asked her what happened, but she only responded that she couldn't see. She couldn't see.


You gave up and decided to put her back in bed, but then her eyes went wide and she began to cry. No! There's a spider there! No! She kept repeating to you over and over. If was as if a witch has placed a spell on her. She chanted her fear over and over as if it were her last dying wish. You tried to calm her down and held her in your arms. Her panicking began to seep under your skin. She wouldn't quiet down. She was driving you insane. You and your friend helped her up and placed her in your friend's bed and while she was in his bed, you searched the room for this apparent spider. There was no spider and you looked everywhere. By the time you returned to your girlfriend's side, she was sound asleep as if nothing had ever happened.


You and your friend cleaned up her wounds and swapped beds for the night. He was in your bed as you were in his. The next day, the truth came to light. Your girlfriend woke up confused. Why was she not sleeping in your bed? Why was her knees aching so horribly? She shook you with fear in her eyes. You told her about last night and her eyes went wide in shock. She recalled dreaming last night that there

was a large, hairy, brown spider on the bed about the size of a human hand and in the dream, she was running and screaming out of the bedroom. She couldn't believe she was actually crawling instead of running. She couldn't believe she was sleepwalking or more specifically sleep-running. If it weren't for you, she would have fell down the stairs and gotten severely injured. You saved her this time at least, but how can you sleep now without worrying if she would sleepwalk again. What if one night, she sleepwalks and you're not there. You can only hope she never sleepwalks again.

 

[Upbeatdown]

This is the unedited edition of my submission. 1,000 word maximum was too little. If a mod tells me I have to upload the edited version here, I'll do so.


WARNING: There is horror in this horror story.

David

By Upbeatdown​

Maybe it was the cold of winter that had finally done it for David. That’s it, it had to be. Whatever it was, he needed a way out. Just a little time to himself. That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? To his boss maybe, when she got the call one early morning from a worker saying he’d be taking the rest of the week off. This particular boss wasn’t very chipper, not one bit, but that didn’t much matter to David. Not when he was already half to a small port a little ways off from Boston.


Yesterday he’d towed his family’s old sailboat, the blue one with a once white sail now tinged a dull yellow by sea air and brine, with paint that chipped in dragged waves as thin as fingernails. ,That’s the ocean David, he’d heard himself thinking the day prior. Clawin’ for ya’. Wantin’ to bring ya’ down for a swim. But those thoughts had since become distant memories to him. He was out in the ocean now, just like the sailor he’d always wanted to be as a young lad.


David spent his first day far away from shore. The promise of two beers suddenly became an easy seven, and by the time the night covered the lazy waves, he was singing along to The Seeker, graying brown hair swaying lazily in the ocean air.


The loud fizzle of radio static woke David from his inebriated slumber. His head pounded fiercely, like it was trying to escape from his skull. His hand moved up to touch the beard he’d been growing for a few months now. A coworker told him it looked shaggy, but David thought it suited him. The edges of it grayed in similar fashion to the hair on his head.


Through the thick mental cloud that was David’s hangover, he stood himself up from the wooden floors of the ship’s deck and stared down the radio, looking perplexed. As if loose in their sockets, his eyes slowly glanced around to his surroundings. It was day, sun shining down against the the dancing ripples and waves. Shore wasn’t even in view anymore, and David wondered how far off he’d drifted. Of course that was no real concern, not now, not to David. With strange fascination, David was most concerned with his crackling radio. Surely he wasn’t that far from shore, so far that he couldn’t pick up radio signals.


David shambled over to the small metal box, taking a moment to admire just how clean the Sony logo appeared, a stark juxtaposition to the rest of the thing, which now looked weathered along the bottom from repeated movement and whose audio quality had severely diminished since he’d purchased it. David reached forward and fiddled with the dial, switching it between the myriad of options the numbers granted him. Yet all of them produced the same garbled static that did little to nurse his pounding head.


He had finally settled on turning the damned thing off before his head exploded, and that was when the initial chill hit him, along his right shoulder. It felt alien and almost slimy against his skin, slowly creeping along his entire body. David turned around and was met with fog, denser than anything he’d ever seen. For a second, he cowered away from it, dreaded the sensation it left against his skin. It was heavy, like soft hands running along his being.


“What the hell…”, David croaked, eyes as wide as pool balls.


Next came the sudden thump, like a bag of dead fish dropped suddenly to the floor. It was behind him, and David turned around to witness a horror only told in stories. It was tall, at least eight feet, with bits of rotting seaweed and brine caked to its deep green and scaly flesh. It had a mouth that resembled a small beak, like an octopus’. Webbed feet splashed grotesquely against the wooden boards, and its equally webbed fingers brandished claws, long and sharp. The thing’s eye sockets waited to be filled, though David would swear it was staring at him with perfect precision.


“What’sa matter David? Haven’t got your sea legs yet?”, the beast choked, its voice gargling down ocean salt.


Then David smelled it, like rotting fish carcass, and that was what really kicked him into reality. David rasped out a scream and ran below deck. He found himself a nice corner to cower in, and listened with careful despair at each waterlogged thump against the deck above that signified the creature’s footsteps. Eventually, something did come down the stairs, but it was no monster of cruel and vivid imagination. No, it was the gentle steps of a woman, and David watched in confounded horror as his own mother walked down the stairs.


“Davey? Why’ve you run off from your mama, Davey?”, her voice beckoned. It was so real, it was her voice.


“Th-that isn’t you! You’re dead! Have been for years!”, David called out to his mother, he drew closer with everything step of her heels.


“Come now, Davey! I just want to hold you close. I’m so lonely!”, she cried out to the cowering man. And then her appearance changed, almost suddenly before David’s disbelieving eyes. It was his mother alright, but it was her corpse, sagging with pruned and waterlogged skin. Her mouth hung agape, revealing rotted and blackened teeth and gums. Her eyes were merely holes, and David saw something like insects move inside them.


“You know those nights when I’d climb into bed with you and hold you real close, Davey?”, the corpse croaked, only a few feet in front of him now. Oh god, the smell. “I’d hold you real close and sometimes I’d touch you in bad places. But it wasn’t because I was lonely. It was because I wanted to fuck you, Davey. I just wanted so badly go to town on your young little body”.


David felt his mother’s hands cup his cheeks, and gently move down to his neck. There they wrapped around his neck, and once again the thing changed forms, back into that monstrous ocean ghoul from above. He felt its claws sink deep into his neck’s flesh, but the choking numbed that pain.


“They call me the Seeker, Davey. I’ve been searchin’ low and high”, it spoke as David fluttered in and out of consciousness. As all went black and David felt the skin tear from his neck in shreds, that familiar song played its tune in his head. It was relaxing, and that’s just what he wanted, wasn’t it? To be relaxed.


“Wish granted, Dave”. That’s what his boss, right before she hung up on him.


Wish granted.

 

[NessieAlways]

“Dance with me?” -Death

​

By: NessieAlways​

I can still hear the echo of my heartbeat drumming against my chest. At first steady, but now the rhythm slows. Bum bum. Bum bum. I feel the air escape me, rushing out my body like an open faucet. I reach out for it. Screaming. Shouting. But my hands are unmoving and my voice is nonexistent. Can somebody hear me? Please, somebody. Help me! I'm cold, trapped in an empty room. Shadows lurk in the corners taunting me, driving me insane. There's no place to run. There's no place to hide. I can feel him watching. He always is. It's unnerving. It's frightening. The thought of him breathing over my shoulder sends chills down my arms making my hair rise. Bum bum. Bum bum.


Everything is dark. My hands tremble, my legs are weak. I keep yelling out into nothingness in hopes that someone will hear my plea, but my mouth doesn't move. I know he's here. He's watching me, and though my voice is unheard, I know he's listening. He revels in the sound of my despair. He frolics through my tears of desolation. He laughs at my misery. I finally see him standing in the void, a tall silver figure. He has no eyes. Two empty pits of black. Still, his stare is penetrating. He has no mouth. A blank canvas scarred from it's lack of color. Still, his voice is cloying, enchanting. It’s calling for me, telling me to let go, telling me to follow him. His voice draws me in like a hypnotic note, twisting my thoughts from agony to peace. It's pure bliss. It's exquisite ecstasy. It's inhumanly toxic; a poison that can tame the wildest beast sending it into an eternal slumber. He whispers soothing hymns, hymns only angels sing, but he is no angel. This is all a trap, a lure. I have to get away. Bum bum. Bum bum.


I blink finding myself at the brink of existence standing between this world and the next, a black abyss before me, a tainted path behind. There is no way out of this hell, no way out of the mistake I made. I don't want this. I cry. I beg, but there's no going back now. The deed is done. This is the price. A hand reaches out before me inviting me to dance. Every nerve in my body yells no. Every inch on my skin prays for mercy. I want to go back. I want to go home. My body begins to move without my consent. I can see my hand slowly lifting despite my greatest efforts to keep it down. I am a puppet; his puppet, and he wields me to his own desire. Pins and needles prick every inch of my skin as I fight against his command. My muscles begin to ache; my bones burn in pain. I resist and defy, yet there my hand was, reaching out, inches away from his touch. My eyes close trying to break out of his trance, trying to make him disappear, trying to take back what I've done, but it's too late. Bum bum. Bum bum.


The distance dissolves. I feel his icy body on my bare skin, teasing my neck as he breathes. I whimper. My hands shake. My knees tremble. There’s no warmth behind his touch, no comfort in his breath, no life in his skin. He’s just an empty shell withering in this void, a place between this world and the next. My eyes open slowly afraid to see the thing before me; afraid to see this vial creature in the flesh, but what stands before me isn’t a creature nor a thing. It is a man, a tall pale man. Though he has no eyes, I feel his morose gaze. Though he has no mouth, I hear wails in lament. He sings hymns only angels sing, for he was an angel. That is clear to me now. He takes my hand in his and rests his other on my hip. His touch is no longer frigid, no longer raw. My fear and pain wash away as he lifts me up twirling and spinning to his waltz, a waltz only the dead can hear, a waltz only the dead can dance. Sorrowful cries and desolate howls filled the air as we dance through darkness. No more fear. No more pain. Only nirvana. My body becomes heavy, numb. I begin to fall, letting the air whisk me away. I feel weightless as my mind wonders off into what I can only imagine is a dream. Bum bum.


I now understand choice that I made. I now know what will become of me. It was a moment of weakness, a moment I can't take back. Do I wish it never happened? Perhaps. However, now I know what he is like. There's no reason to fear him or run away, for he will welcome you warmly into his sweet embrace. He's painted with impure thoughts and tarnished by the living. What we don't know is the misery he's in. He travels through worlds looking only for a friend, a person who will not fear him or curse at his name. Bum bum.


I stop, look deep into the man’s melancholic eyes, and whisper, “Take me with you my sweet angel of death.” Though he has no eyes, I see them sparkle with joy. Though he has no mouth, I feel a blithesome smile form on his lips. He's found his friend in me and I in him. His hand rises to my chin lifting it ever so slightly. The other cups my warm cheek. His head lowers slowly closing the distance between us two. I close my eyes awaiting the moment, catching a glimpse of light growing brighter and brighter. I count the seconds before the end, enjoying every moment. He presses his aerial lips against mine, a soft gentle kiss taking my last breath away. Bum bum.


Bum bum.


Bum…


Bum…


…

 

[Jinx]

Picture Prefect

​

By: JInx



​

(Plz remain calm! This has nothing to do with me! Just thought it would lighten up the scares! And caution! It contains rather weird thing)

​

‘Hush little baby, don’t say a word’ I softly sang to myself as I hammered the nail into place ‘Mommy’s going to by you a mocking bird,’ I grab another nail, admiring the rust surrounding the point, making the shining metal become dull in the moonlight. ‘And if that mocking bird don’t sing…’ I try thinking of the rest of the words, ‘I’m gonna to break that birdy’s neck.’


My momma, she was cruel to me. She hated me with every inch of despise she gave. I would come home from my secondary school and she would start screaming at me, shouting about how I don’t deserve the flimsy shack that my father built for me to live in behind our family’s estate. I soon learned that my momma would never accept that I was alive and became suicidal.


I look down to my collection of scars, looking like an art gallery, with pale pink masterpieces and new dark red additions.


I think back to when my momma took my favourite doll and burned it in the fire place, sending it into an oblivion of soot and flames. ‘And if the birdy still remains’ I sing, thinking about my father, who would give my baby sister so much love and adoration, while giving me crude remarks about my hair, face and body.


‘I’ll burn it till there’s nothing left.’ I look at the ring my sister gave me. Soft tears run down my dirty face, making streak marks, bumping over gashes and scars, falling onto and around the ring making perfect, half spheres. She was beautiful, only feelings of happiness surrounded her.


When she died, it was the hardest for me. My heart, well, what was left of it, shattered into millions of shards, never to be picked up again.


I look back up at my handiwork, a smile creeping up my face, and I start giggling softly, then louder and louder until I’m shrieking with laughter, tears still running down my face. As I sob and scream, I admire how the moon casts a spotlight on my work, making it glow.


The skeletons of my former family nailed to the charred couch would’ve looked normal, if there was skin and muscles on them. Their bones shone through the dark with the moon’s glow, it created a perfect scene. I took out my bag, grab a tie and rest it around my father’s neck bones. Next, I take a hair bow and put it on the smooth scull of my baby sister. Then, I took my mother’s light green cooking apron and tied it around her back and around her neck.


Now, for the final touch; I take our old camera, put it on its stand, set it on a fifteen second countdown and placed it about five feet from the couch. I straighten my skirt, sit down between my mother and father’s remains, take out my knife and smile, plunging the blade into my heart right as the flash goes off.


Picture perfect.

 

[BuddhistDracula]

Desperate



It was a wonderful evening. All different kinds of people were here, gathered together in the hall. My family… my friends… all were there. The scent of the most delicious food filled it. “It’s great here, Father!” I looked down. A little girl was standing next to me. A young and innocent thing… my little girl, Felicia. She was smiling, excited for what the musicians who had just arrived would play.


At the other end of the room, I spotted my best friend, Vlad, was dining with his family. They would not allow me to take a seat at their table; Vlad was the governing Prince of Wallachia, and all of his family belonged to high nobility, while I… I was just an astrologist.


As soon as we had finished eating, servants put the tables aside, and the band bega-


“Get up!” I immediately jumped to my feet. I gulped as I looked up to the giant that was standing in front of me. He was almost twice as tall as I was, and his arms were as massive as tree trunks. The man threw a slice of bread in front of me, pushed me hard and then turned around with a growl, slamming the door to my cell shut as he left it. “You don’t even deserve that bread,” I could hear him say through the thick wood of the door.


I sat down on the cold, hard ground and cringed in a corner. The darkest one of them all… the bit of sunlight that came through the small, barred window could not reach it. It was a dark, stinky cell with nothing but a bit of straw to sleep on. “It was just a dream…” I whispered to myself. We were in the year 1481, and Vlad had been dead for more than four years. No one could help me. I was all alone… I felt so… left behind. The bread – I did not even care about it.


I looked down on myself. Bones with skin… that was all that was left of me. And torn prison clothes, full of dirt and blood… my own blood… and wounds… and pain. They had broken my thumbs several times… those thumbscrews.


Although knowing that the hangman wanted to see me, I was not afraid. Completely calm, indeed. Despair had its own calms.


The sun was high up in the sky, as far as I could see this, when the giant returned. He grabbed my arm and ungently pulled me up to my feet, his nails digging into my skin. ‘Grab my arm a bit stronger and you’ll break it,’ I thought.


The man dragged me out of my cell and out of the prison, straight into bright sunlight. It was so bright… and I was not used to it… it felt like it was burning my eyes. He dragged me through the whole town… at least, it felt like he did.


“Father!” The voice was all too familiar. I looked around – and saw how Felicia was pushed by a man in a long, black robe. Tears came to my eyes… my little girl! They would do the same to her as they did to me! And I could not help her. “Felicia…” I whispered.


The giant pushed me into a wooden wagon. A colossus of a wagon, waiting just for me. The horses pulled me to a place outside of the town, and it seemed like every single one of the town’s inhabitants was standing there and staring. I was pushed onto a pile of wood that was surrounding a thick, wooden stake… the stake I was bound to.


“April 30th, 1481. Convict: Ioan Gheorghescu. Death sentence,” the giant dictated, and a court clerk wrote it down. Then, the giant turned to me. “Gheorghescu,” he growled. I looked at him. I knew what he wanted from me. “I confess that I… worked as an astrologist… that I set the-the house of my neighbour on fire using magic… and that I slept with the devil.” This was a lie; I had never done any of these things, but I did not care. Death – peace – was far too sweet after all I had been through.


I looked at the audience that had gathered, greedily waiting for the spectacle that was going to happen. The giant… came closer… and then… set fire to the wood underneath my feet. I looked down. The flames… they were slowly climbing up the pyre. I screamed. I screamed out in pain. “You damn old witcher!” “You shall die!” “Go to hell!” That was what the audience was yelling at me.


The pain… it became stronger… I screamed… I screamed louder… and then… peace.

 

[SkyGinge]

Warning: Pretentious Ambiguity Ahead!

​

Spoiler

RED

​

Red over white over red.


'tis winter, and the earth slumbers in chilling nudity. Autumn has ravaged the forest, robbed it of its splendour. Bare bony branches clasp out in vein for their golden garments, now decayed to dust. The alders are dark and wrinkled, the pines charred by the scorching chill. And their roots, like the bulbous, ugly veins of the planet itself, cannibalising the nutrients of their ancestors; life anchored in death.


The forest is old, far, far older than you will ever reach. Ever since you were a tyke, you've been force-fed old-wives tales of its terror. Legend says the forest swallows up young maidens like yourself, digests them in its entangled labyrinth, leaves 'naught but their garment shell, rotting like twigs. Here, a little lost lamb may find itself mutton for the snarling maw of the greedy wolf. Chilling tales designed both to scare and entice; a dangerous duality, for who does not dream of finding themselves in fantasy?


The crisp snow crumbles under your feet like mounds of icing sugar. The perversive wind slivers between the trees, runs its tingling finger down your spine. You shiver, bury yourself in your red coat. Not a single living thing in sight save yourself, but still you can feel a thousand invisible glares like prickly pinpricks on your neck. Or spurs in your heels.


The little house lies in the heart of the woods, and the ominous oaks hunch over it, envious. Rappa-tap-tap! Your small hand greets the door. A pause. Naught to hear but the wind's wolf-whistling. You spy your faded self in the glass of the door. Red over white over red.


He opens the door. Grins.


“Hey.”


“Hey.”


“S'pose you'd better come in,” he sighs, though he can only briefly maintain his faux reluctance before the wild grin rips back across his jaw. You provoke his joy which provokes your own. He shuffles in, and you follow, as if tied to him by an invisible spool of string.


The scent of warmth immediately assaults you, and you stand in his dim living room. 'tis an unassuming place, really, with little stand-out and little flair. He parades his ancestry on the mantelpiece like the aristocrat he's not; father after father after father. That cyclic likeness; life anchored in death. You have never seen such handsome images. Such handsome, lifelike images.


“I've got a surprise for you,” he says, amber firelight dancing across his pelt.


“Oh?” you ask, coyly.


“Yeah. I know we've only known each-other for diddly-squat, but I felt... felt tonight should be the night we dine together.”


He turns. His eyes are blazing like sparklers. That toothy grin. He runs a hairy hand along your pale, peachy skin, his bearded muzzle nuzzles your swan-like neck. His mahogany eyes imitate your reflection; red over white over red. Outside, a thick murky mist seeps from the earth's pores, and the perplexed owl commences his nightly cooing.


“H-hey,” you protest, your cheeks blooming red on your snowy white face, “We've eaten together loads of times, silly. Look, I even brought some of mum's cakes.” And you show him your basket in validation.


“I'm hungry,” he murmurs, “I feel like I haven't eaten for a month. It's like my stomach is lonely, calling out for company.”


“Then take a cake, silly.”


“Don't you see?” says he, and his gaze is piercing as Cupid's arrow, bright as Icarus' burning wings.


“What... see what?”


“I'm not hungry for cake.”


“No?”


“No. I'm hungry... for you.”


You barely have time to muffle a cry before he collapses to the floor. A mechanical cacophony of cracks and pops pop and crack from his body as some diabolic alchemy portends an impossible metamorphosis. He struggles, as if wrestling with an invisible foe. He splutters, sweats, snorts. Then fur, great brown blades of mottled fur protrude through his shirt, his trousers, his boots, his jacket until there's no more he and all is left is a beastly it, a beastly wolfish it.


Your gazes lock in fragile stalemate, his eyes blistering with the supernatural glow of centuries of life anchored in death.


Then panic; dangerous realisation throttles you. Gasping, you stumble back through the door, slam it behind you and wade into the heavy mist. A guttural howl herds you out but you will not, dare not ever turn back. Evening has flown on, and now the cowardly sun is lost behind the forest's peaks. Blind, the only path left to follow is the crunch-crunch-crunch of your boots on the snow. Another howl; you wonder if it's in joy or pain.


Your heartbeat roars in your ear. Your red might be a shield indeed against the intrusive chill, but now it's naught but a big, flashy target, so you rip off the coat, cast it over an oak's arm, run on. White over red is swamped in foggy grey.


Behind you, the thundering of paws, snow cracking under grimy claws, a sweaty, beastly wolf with jagged jowl hunts your shadow. The uniform trees roll past you, and the dormant forest scents itself in the perfume of excitable fear. You run and you run and you run and you run but your traitorous legs betray you. You buckle, stumble, scream.


The wolf is on you like moon after the sun. You feel the laceration of his jaw through your back. He shreds through your body with animistic greed, layer after layer after layer. Bone, blood, veins, lungs; he feasts on your tender flesh. He howls again and again and again. You scream, you cry, but the forest gobbles it up.


White dyed red. Then black.