Mass Hysteria: Winners Announced!

Will you enter?

I already have.	6.7%	[ 6 ]
Yes!	20.0%	[ 18 ]
I'm thinking about it.	47.8%	[ 43 ]
NO! YOU SUCK!	6.7%	[ 6 ]
I'm just here to read the entries.	10.0%	[ 9 ]
I'm just here to provide moral support.	8.9%	[ 8 ]
Total Votes:			[ 90 ]

[Vanilla eXee]

….it's coming.....


You wake up in a cold sweat. “Thank goodness, it was just a nightmare,” you think to yourself. Thirsty, you get up to fill your glass in the bathroom sink. Still a bit jittery from your dream, you think you see a shadow pass behind you as you look into the mirror. “No, no. I'm just imagining things,” you say out loud. Then you splash water on your face, dry it off with a towel and head back to bed. “Maybe I'll just watch some TV to help me fall back asleep.” When you turn the TV on, you see that someone has left it on a news station, “....reports of....” Flip. “....mass hysteria....” Flip. “....strange things are occurring...” “That's odd,” you wonder, when you realize that the same thing is on every channel. That's when you decide to watch, and really listen to what the news anchor is saying.

“There are reports of mass hysteria around the globe, as well as many strange things occurring. In some cities, riots have broken out. It's as though they've all gone mad, tearing each other apart with their teeth and bare hands. In other cities, people are calling the police round the clock about strange disappearances, unexplainable lights in the sky and other phenomena, masked killers, and weird creatures that defy science running amok. It's as if someone has taken a handful of popular horror movies and brought them to life. If you can still see this broadcast, all I can tell you is to hide. Get somewhere safe! Bring weapons, food, anything that will help you survive. God help us all....” That's when the anchor takes a gun from underneath the news desk and the TV goes black.

You wake up in a cold sweat.

It's that time of year again, folks. Horror Inc, along with our new friends from The Occult Research Society, is hosting our annual Halloween story contest. This time, the stakes are higher than ever, and the fear should be too. We want your best. Terrify us, make us beg for mercy. There is no escape from

The winners have been announced, please see the second post!

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[Vanilla eXee]

First Place: 250k Banana Flavored Butt
Second Place: 100k Obscurus
Third place: 50k Keylimepiee

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[Vanilla eXee]

Rules
- The stories must be at least 5 paragraphs (for the purposes of this contest, a paragraph is 5-7 sentences.)
- We would prefer it if the stories are Halloween or "Mass Hysteria" related, but any horror story will be accepted
- There is no length cap on the stories, just remember, if it's too long, people will get bored
- As of right now, we are only accepting one story per person. However, if we come too close to the deadline and still don't have enough stories, we will consider accepting multiple stories.
- Make sure the content of your story follows the gaia ToS
- The story must be written by you, we frown on plagiarism
- You do not have to be a Horror Inc. or Occult Research Society member to participate
- We must receive at least 10 stories by the deadline, or else the contest will roll over into the next month
- We reserve the right to edit these rules at any time

Deadline: Stories will not be accepted after October 15th, 2011. Winners will be announced on Halloween.

Submit your stories by sending them to the Horror Inc Mule. Stories will be added to the first page daily.

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[Vanilla eXee]

Coming Soon!

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[Vanilla eXee]

iSyrupey

2012
Part 3
Song Lyrics by Woodkid
Song is Iron

Deep in the ocean, dead and cast away
Where innocence is burned in flames
A million mile from home, I'm walking ahead
I'm frozen to the bones, I am...

The end is here.
I watched snow slowly descend...or was that ash?
It is cold..It melts...
But leaves no water behind...
Of course.
The sheer cold will freeze over hell.
I stopped staring.
I continued to walk on.
I need no distractions.
I must find others.
If there are others.
I shall go to Alaska
Since Florida is diagonal from it
I shall cover more land

A soldier on my own, I don't know the way
I'm riding up the heights of shame
I'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest
I'm ready for the fight, and fate

I remember that day
When snow first came
2012 wasn't the end..
It was the start.
Of the next Ice Age, that is.
The Demons walk free now
They slaughter anything in their path
If there is anything
I am the last Human.
I have traveled as far as I am allowed
Not a single scent or trace
I can smell Humans, then?
Does this make me...unHuman?

The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head,
The thunder of the drums dictates
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead's
The rising of the horns, ahead

Sadness. The only thing I know now.
I cannot light fire.
I cannot live without bitter cold.
I have eaten raw..Demon as food
The only food I can eat
I have learned it is poison.
Slowly curropting the brain
Slow destroying every last ounce of.
Sanity.
Sanity is something we hold dear
We measure strength with it
Morality, maturity
The insane, we view tham evil
But what do they think of us

From the dawn of time to the end of days
I will have to run, away
I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste
Of the blood on my lips, again

Pain, it is a funny thing.
One that mortals can feel.
There are humans, but they have past
I cannot touch them
They are scared to see me
Some of them came and threatened me
It was the first time I was able to touch them
And I cut one on the shoulder
I am truly a monster
Have I become a Demon?
No, I cannot be a Demon
I am a Human
I must be Human
I didn't come this far to become them

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands,
I'm frozen to the bones, I am
A million mile from home, I'm walking away
I can't remind your eyes, your face

And it suddenly came to me
I am not Human
I am not Demon
Life still goes on
This isn't Earth
This is Hell.
I realize now
I am the one who died
And they are the ones who survived....
...
I swam to the surface.
It was cool.
Winter.
Except with a lot of smoke and dust everywhere.
It was a miracle.
I knew that we were meant to start over!
A new life!
Life.

Sayu-Chama

A foggy dream. One with glass tinged rose petals and a peculiar music box. Such a deep sleep weighed my body down with sand. My head submersed with the smell of lavender. A calm atmosphere, filled with hope and pleasure had managed to surround me. Mossy trees, Stone pavement, and beautiful flowers surrounded me. My small sister was giggling as she collected lemony yellow flowers. I breathed deeply, synchronizing myself with the air around me. That was the last time I'd ever do so.

As quick as a gun shoots, I suddenly fell. Perhaps it was from the sky. The scent of lavender vanished, as did the floor beneath me. Instead of the rose petals surrounding me, droplets venetian in color had done so. The metallic smell of these tiny liquid beads came quickly to my nose. As did sudden shrieks. Noises too high pitched for the human ear reverberated. My body started shaking. The urge to vomit caused me to clench my stomach. That is how I noticed it. A particular growth inhabited the area on the lower left region of my stomach, just to the right of my hip. The only light nearest to myself was caused by the droplets around me. I could only lift my shirt slightly to touch it's surface. I wonder how it looks. I can only make out it's bulbous shape. Cracked, dry, and deep. The very instant I touched it, pain ran through out my body. Time in this nightmare had stopped.

But I hadn't. My heart pounded so fast that my eyelids flew open. Sweat covered my body, even more so than the sheets on my bed. The air around me was dense. I could hardly breathe.Twisting to the right, I grabbed a glass of water from my night stand. My head wouldn't stay steady. My hands kept shaking. I could barley get the water down my throat. The liquid itself was filled with dust particles and made me choke. My lungs pumped what little air was available. My head was racing. I knew I was awake, but I could barley manage to grasp the situation I was in. I threw the cup to the floor, only to have it shatter in many pieces by my bed side. I started screaming. I understand now. There is a fire. Many people are screaming. Why are they screaming? Are people outside calling for me? Or perhaps... people still inside are screaming. s**t.

My first steps were too ambitious, seeing as I managed to step on the glass instead of around. That caused me to trip on all the little fragments, and cause an sincere amount of pain. Whatever. I scraped myself off the floor and started sprinting. Past the door way, and down the hall. The stairs were covered in flames. I needed an alternative. Looking around in the dense heat, I remembered the tree. I stumbled towards my mother's room. The door was already open. There was enough margin to get past the giant hole in the floor. As I approached the hole, screams were louder. I had to move on, the heat was overwhelming and so was the smoke. I ripped apart the window screen.

Now I lay in a hospital bed. I had fallen from the tree. The screams from that hole were that of my father. He is dead. My mother is recovering, and right now my sister is trick or treating. Happy Halloween. To those of you who avoid chaos, just know that it will find you.

BittaxSweet

“Marie? Are you ready?”
I turned around to stare at my twin sister, who is putting on earrings just as I am. I smirk, we’re so alike physcially and mentally. It helps that we’re siamese twins, and that we dress the same. The only difference is that Marie is in a bloody red dress as I am in a white one. Since we’re too old to trick or treat, we’re going to a halloween party hosted by our best friend. Since that certain friend also has hot friends, we decided to go classy yet sexy.
Unfortantly, there is one difference between me and Marie. Marie can not speak, she never could say a word since birth and probably wont till death. So she nods she’s finished before sighing and brushing her hair back just as I do, this time I laugh, because we are really alike tonight.
We turn to the door, which is located behind us, when the lights go out. At first, I laugh and joke, “Oh, dad, you got us.” I mean, lets face it, my dads a prankster. Halloween is his night. After a minute of silence though, I shift uncomfortable and contuine to the doorway. That’s when I hear shuffling, in large clunky boots. “..Marie?” I don’t remember her wearing such heavy footwear.
And than, my mute twin, starts screaming.
At first I’m totally strucked in awe, as I hear her voice for the first time- even if its painful. In fact, its terrible to hear, as she cries out bloody mary. I try to move to her, to find the problem, but I’m paralyzed in awe and fear. My throat tightens when she starts speaking.
“Help! Mom, dad! Help-“ Shes cutt off, and a horrible gagging noise beings. I open my mouth to shout out whats wrong, but it seems that I’ve gone mute this time. My throat gets tighter, as if I’m the one in trouble, and I start gasping for air. Marie doesn’t make a noise.
And then the lights flick on, dad at the door with a broom stick and mom not far behind. But I don’t look at them. I look at Marie, dangling by a rope in front of me. Her neck is already purple, her eyes are as large as saugages and staring staight at me that I try not to wince, or look away. Her dress, now its red from the blood, hangs over the lifeless body. I can’t react.
“Bella! Oh dear god! Call the cops! Call 911!” My dad is shouting, which confuses me. Does he think I am Marie? Has he switched up the identical twins? Its only then do my eyes really open up.
My room only holds one bed. There is only one dresser. Only one toothbrush. And, there is only one daughter in the Califree family.
I never had a twin sister.
I am staring at a mirror.
And I have just been hanged, murdered.
Dead.

Mascara Maniac

Till Death Do Us Part

My sister and I are opposites. She pretends to be sexy, and I pretend to be the girl next door. She dyed her hair red, and mine is still the dull brown it`s been since birth. But we`re joined at the hip...literally.

Another thing about my sister: I hate her.

In her own cruel, twisted little mind, I think she almost likes being conjoined twins. I think she likes spending every waking moment torturing me, feeding on my pain.

I think she`s driving me insane.


I stare into my coffee, trying to ignore her. I wish she wasn`t here. I wish she was a completely separate being from me, living in some other house with some other family far, far away.

"Callia, are you feeling okay?" Robbie asks gently, grabbing my hand.

"Has she ever? That girl is sick," Rose sneers. Robbie ignores her, and that almost makes it hurt worse. That`s another thing I hate: as beautiful and kind and sweet and perfect as Robbie is, he doesn`t stand up to her. No one stands up to Rose. My father had nightmares about her, before he ran away.

I wish I could have run away with him, away from Rose, and away from my blissfully ignorant mother. Why would he leave me here?

"Yeah, I`m fine, Robbie," I look into his eyes and smile weakly. He kisses me lightly on the lips, tasting like espresso. Rose hoots and cackles in the background.

We pull away.

Rose is ruining it. She`s ruining everything.

"Well, lover boy, Cal and I have to go. We`re going shopping now," Rose cackles again, pulling me away. I stiffen my leg, trying to keep us from leaving, but Rose is stronger, always has been.

"Bye Callia," Robbie says weakly, watching me go.


We board a bus, headed for the city, and people stare as we walk past. Rose leads me to the back of the bus, poking and prodding me the entire ride.

"You are a stupid, worthless b***h," she whispers quietly, so no one else can hear. "I don`t know why Robbie hasn`t dumped you. I saw him staring at the waitress, Cal. It`s only a matter of time. You`re the reason Dad left, and Mom loves me more than you, or else she`d believe you, now wouldn`t she?"

I sob softly into the window, watching normal people with normal lives and no Rose walking by. And finally the bus ride is over, and Rose can`t terrorize me anymore.



The mall is huge, framed by palm trees that, when we were younger, Rose promised would fall and kill me, and Mom and Dad would be so much happier then. She drags me into Victoria`s Secret, looking at all the clothes and commenting constantly, "Oh, you`d look horrible in that, Cal. I won`t even bother trying it on."

After thirty minutes, Rose bores of her little game and ventures into a Wiccan shop, walking up to the woman at the counter and demanding, "Read my fortune."

The woman is short and slim, with hair cut into a sleek bob. Smiling, she agrees. Rose follows her into a little closet-sized room, complete with a crystal ball that rests on an ironing board and a short, squat bookshelf filled with books. The woman plops down on the floor, and Rose follows suit, jostling me in the process and smiling.

"Oh, and your sister can look at the books, if she likes," the woman says offhandedly.

Rose sits there for an hour, listening to the woman tell her her fortune, until my legs are numb, and my arm is cramping up from lack of water. I finger through the books, drinking my own spit. I don`t dare ask Rose if we can get some water.

One catches my eye. The cover is strangled by ivy and curlique wording, but I can just barely make out the title, "Spells." I want to put it down, being the good Christian girl I am. Witchcraft is a sin.

But I can`t. It`s like it`s permanantly glued to my hand. I flip it open, and see it. "How to separate conjoined twins," the heading says.

I read, hoping I`ll finally have a way out. Rose finishes her fortune, but by that time, I`m in shock.

No.

No.

I can`t.

But...



On the bus ride home, I barely hear her abuse.

Mom makes us dinner, macaroni and cheese again. It`s Rose`s favorite, but not mine. Mom always seems to forget that.

The entire time, Mom talks about her new boyfriend, and Rose kicks me under the table. Smack. Smack. Smack.

"Mom, please make her stop," I beg, interrupting her speech. "Please, please make her stop."

"Stop what, dear?" Mom asks, pissed at being interrupted.

"You will pay for that. Don`t say another word," Rose hisses, and I don`t bother trying, too afraid of Rose`s wraith.

Mom continues blabbering, pretending it never happened.


We go to bed a few hours later, Rose murmuring in my ear.

"Whore, b***h, unloved piece of s**t..." she continues. "b*****d, slut, floozy." Something in me snaps. I can`t take it anymore.

I`ve dealt with this every damn day of my life.

Every.

Damn.

Day.

"Rose," I beg, "can we please, please go get a snack. I`m so hungry."

"Fine, dickwad," she spits out, sensing my desperation. We get up silently, padding into the kitchen. Rose rummages around in the fridge, and I position myself just right.


The moon is shining, and through the red-tinted windows, it seems like it`s bathing the world in blood.

I grab the butcher knife quickly, and Rose turns around, hearing the sound.

"What the hell are you--" her voice cuts out abruptly as I stab her, over and over, until her chest is covered in red. Beautiful.

I chant, holding the bloody knife with white knuckles in case Mom wakes up. Let her come. Let her see what happened to her golden girl. Let her see.

Rose droops, like a wilted flower, and the weight brings me down to my knees. I grasp at the counter for balance.

"I sacrifice her, and will that your might will free me. Satan, I am your servant, free me from my bonds," I end, and the knife winks in the moonlight.

A horrible sound, like a soul being ripped from its body, pitches up, and I cover my ears, the blood from the knife dripping down onto the floor with repetitive plops. I look down at Rose and her limp corpse explodes, leaving blood that covers the floor.

A stain.

Just like Rose is.

Or should I say was?

I cackle.


I run to Robbie`s. We can finally be together, without Rose there, without her ruining it.

The door is unlocked, and I let myself in.

"Robbie," I call, and he limps into the room in his boxers, looking dead tired.

"What--" he stops.

"I did it. I freed myself. Now we can--" I laugh, happy for once. Free. Free. So free.

"What did you do, Callia?" his voice quivers, and he grabs for the phone. "Y-you`re an abomination. I h-have to call the police," he shakes, backing away slowly.

"No!" I shout. "You can`t. We can be together. We can finally be free from Rose." He doesn`t put down the phone. "Please..."

He starts talking into it, begging the police to come now.

Hysterical, I pull out the knife, slicing his neck.

"N-no," I stutter as he chokes on his own blood. "No. I didn`t mean to..." I choke back a sob.


A wave of pain wracks through my body, and in the distance, I can just make out Rose`s faint form.

"Hello, Cal. What a psycho you are. You killed him, but it`s okay, he never loved you anyways," she mocks. Abuse fills my ears, and I howl.

I killed her.

Why is she still here?

Please God, make her go away.

She hurls a lamp at my head.

"Quiet," she growls. The police march through the door, and Rose smiles.

"It looks like we`ll be spending a lot of time together, Cal. You look like s**t in orange."

I Be Athena

Curse Like a Pirate


First Mate’s Log- Day 1 June 5, 1803

Today is my first day on the new ship, Epsilon. I’ve actually been on this same ship for the past three years, but Captain Richter is gone now, so it feels like a completely different ship. The new guy’s coming in tomorrow. His name’s Jervaid. Captain Jervaid. I'm surprised that he took the job. most seafarers think our ship is cursed or something. I only tookthe job to prove them wrong. And so far I've done fine job of it. Nothing out of the ordinary here, except captain richter's death.

Day 2
Captain Jervaid came in today. He’s young, smart, charismatic, and loves the sea more than anything. Almost like a more youthful version of Richter. He also knew what happened to Richter. How he lost all sanity and drowned himself. Didn’t seem to terribly bothered by it.
Today we also set sail. Took off. Anchors away! We’re headed from the New Orleans port all the way up to Boston. We’re carrying sugarcane or cotton or rice. Or all three. Well, it’s late. Better hit the sack.

Day 3

Today went pretty well. Jervaid seems to know what he’s doing despite the young age. We got to the Florida panhandle with no problem whatsoever. Rest of the crew likes him. I guess I do, too. After dinner he got up and danced like a drunk. Wouldn’t be surprised if he was. The whole crew ended up joining in, but were back to our cabins before we knew it. He really is like Richter, though…

Day 3 ½

Jervaid woke me up about an hour ago, at two in the morning. Said he went to the deck to check something, and heard a scuffling. Thought it was a stowaway. Called the crew to search, but we didn’t find anything. Went to bed tired and unhappy.

Day 4

Today everything was fine, for the most part. Got to the tip of Florida. But at about six o’clock in the evening, Jervaid asked me if there were any old men on the crew. I said, “No, the only geezuh who’s evah lain a foot on this ship was Richter. An’ he’s dead.” This seemed to bother him.

Day 11

We made it to the northern area of Georgia today. The past week Jervaid’s been asking me the strangest sort of questions, mostly about Richter. Where he liked to be. What food he ate. If he ever left anything unfinished. I figure he’s just trying to make sure the crew’s comfortable with their new Captain. But he always refers to Richter as “Captain Richter”. The sorry fellow won’t take the title away from Richter.

Day 12

Jervaid said he heard someone singing “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum,” outside his cabin last night. Richter always sang that when he had a little too much to drink. I’m really starting to think the crew’s messing with his mind, or we have a very mischievous stowaway.

Day 12 ½

Jervaid woke me up again. Said he smelled smoke, went to the deck again, and saw fire. The whole crew got up to put it out, but there was nothing there. What bothers me is that Richter had us doing fire drills night and day. Went to bed unhappy. Again.

Day 13

Captain blew his top at the navigator today. Apparently he heard him curse. Then he banned cursing from the ship. Richter never liked cussing.

Day 19

Almost to Maryland, so we’re getting close to the end of this strange voyage. Jervaid started sleeping on the deck. Said he feels uncomfortable about sleeping in “Captain Richter’s” bed. Now I’m not the superstitious type, but it sounds like Richter thinks we have a haunting. Pah! I haven’t seen one shred of evidence, not one little ghostie coming to get me. I’ll believe it when I see it. He’s just gone delusional. Maybe we need a new captain when we dock in Boston.

Day 24

Finally reached Boston, but not on a happy note. Jervaid hung himself. The past four days, his antics had gotten worse. Started screaming at the crew, and I could hear him mumbling to himself in his cabin at night. If we were pirates, we would have called mutiny by that time. When he passed on, Jervaid left a little note saying, “Richter never liked me,” Foolish. Richter left the ship before Jervaid even got there. Personally, I think filling out Richter’s shoes was too big a task, so he went mad and tried to become Richter. Or he just drank a little too much seaweed.

Day 27

Had a crew meeting a couple days back. Tried to find someone to take Jervaid’s position. Nobody took the job, even though they would get top dollar for it. They all said Epsilon is cursed. Bull. Just a noisy stowaway, who has probably left us by now. Since we couldn’t find a man to take the job, the crew decided to appoint me as captain. I accepted. We set sail tomorrow.

Captain’s Log- Day 1 July 2, 1803

The crew seems happy to have a sane captain for once. We’re headed back home, to the New Orleans port. We made it to about Maryland, making great time. When I went to my cabin for bed, I found the most peculiar thing on my desk. Jervaid’s hat. I swear we buried him with it. Regardless, I always fancied it, so I decided to wear the thing every now and then.

Day 2

Nothing out of the ordinary. Got to Virginia. Smooth sailings.

Day 2 ½

Heard some thumping late in the night. Thought it would be a stowaway, trying to spook us again. So I got the crew together to try and find it. Didn’t find anything. But what struck me as odd was that it sounded like dancing. Almost like the little jig Jervaid would do after dinner. It didn’t matter, though. Jervaid is gone. Just like Richter. Went to bed tired and unhappy.

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[Vanilla eXee]

KeyLimePiee

Trick or Treat
Smell my Feet
Give me something Good to eat

There once was a little boy
This little boy liked to play
He would play any game that he could
But no one liked to play with him

They all thought him weird
All because he lived in a haunted house
The little boy didn't think this was true
His house wasn't haunted
Save for a ghost or two

His mother told him that those were just lies
He didn't believe her because at that moment, she had no eyes
His father agreed with his mother
He told him that it was only each other
The little boy didn't believe him either
Because when the little boy looked, he had not a mouth neither

The little boy went to school
The little boys and girls making a ghoul
They didn't let the little boy play
Because all the ghost had his house to stay

The little boy missed his bus
It was too nice a day to make a fuss
Halloween was here and the grave yard was near

The little boy walked between the tombstones
Reading the names of the dead
Until he saw one that made him stop
A little boys name was at the very top

The little boy peered closer
“here lays the dead”
the tombstone read
“such a nasty event
for this little boy should not have went”

The little boy could see no more
The weeds were too tall
But the little boy did not fret
He had to go home yet
For it was Halloween

The little boy skipped home
Waiting for his time alone
Where he could get some delicious treats
But skip the tricks

The little boy got to his house
the door was open
the lights were out
He called out to his mother
Then out to his father

No one voice answered back
The little boy was worried and hungry for a snack
He called once more then counted to four
No one answered back
So the little boy went to get a snack

He went to his kitchen
But had to hurry or he could get a lickin'
His mother never liked him to have a snack
He had to wait till after he had a meal

The little boy got out some leftover rice and some ice
He went to to sink
To could get something to drink
He waited for it to fill
Then he noticed that someone had a spill

There was a puddle of red
A trail that went all the way to the basement
The little boy wasn't allowed in that place
His father went there when he needed some space

When the water was filled
He looked over at the still
He gasped
A knife was gone

The little boy shrugged his shoulders
he would have to wait for someone older
An investigation was in order
but not for him he was too young

He took his food to the dining room
when he noticed that same tomb
It was sitting by the stairs
and now without the green hairs

The little boy rubbed his eyes
he needed to clear his mind
When he looked again it wad gone
But a puddle of red was there left behind

He heard a creek of a chair
He called out to his mother once again
No one answered back
much to his chagrin

He huffed
He puffed
He sniffed
and he cried
Where was his mother and father at this time?

Nighttime was near
and the little boy was thick with fear
He hear a voice from upstairs
He heard a bang from below
His fear was beginning to show

He went upstairs determined to find his mother
instead, he found someone other Another little boy
with a paper bag over his head
he was drenched in red and smelt dead

The little asked, “whose there?”
The other little boy threw him a toy
It was a doll with no eyes!
It's mouth was gone
It's head was open
The doll felt real...

The little looked up
The other boy was gone
but not the puddle of red
that seemed to have run
It was a long trail
and the little boy followed
It ended at his parents room

He acted brave and went to his doom
Inside the little boy cried
His mother was hung from the ceiling
not breathing and dead
The little boy ran from the room
he passed the other boy on his way
He didn't even stop to say “hey”

He ran down the stairs and into the kitchen
he had to find his father no matter the painful whippin'
When the little boy opened the door
down fell his father looking sore
A knife was in his back
He looked as though he had been attacked

The little boy screamed
and ran for once in his life
he wanted Halloween to end

**

The other boy watched as the little boy ran
You see, this tail has come to and end
The other boy lived here before
But not any more
He had been killed by his mother
and by his father
on the night of scary wonder

They all hey called him hideous
and put a bag over his head
they dropped him in the cellar to be dead

The other little boy killed again and again
But not before spreading a rumor
He made the little boys and girls see
that they needed to leave
no one listened
so he showed no mercy
His house was his
and not a trophy

The other boy followed the little boy
Right to the grave
where he would soon rest- mother and father and all

The other boy keep the knife he found
using it to put them in ground
He found the little boy
all scared but holding his ground

The other boy grinned
and put the knife down
He would have to show
the little boy his own crown

He pulled the paper bag off his face
Maggots dropped from the decay
Some bugs took his head to stay
A worm or two slide in his socket
A mouse or three ran from his pocket

The little boy screamed and fell back
Aware of the impending attack
The little boy should have listened
The other boy gave him some warnings

His house was haunted
The people were right
he should have left before this night

Now he was dead as dead as can be
His eyes were gone
he could not see
His mouth was sewn tight
he could not speak

His mother was to his right
her neck had snapped
His father to his left his
heart had stopped

Now the little boy knew
Halloween was a night of great terror
He knew this now
as the little boy and girl came to the porch where he was at
reaching inside three heads
hoping to get a good snack

The other boy was laughing
a new mask on
“come one, come all,
to get a treat,
or maybe a trick,
depending on what you eat!”

The little boy had to watch and wait
for someone to notice the strange taste

His mother cried beside him softly
someone took her nose
mistaken it as toffee

His father groaned loudly
someone munched on his ear
they thought it chocolate
not a bloody ear

"On this night
be careful what you eat,
it might be brains of three people
who hoped to live in my castle
and were in for a treat”

the heads were full of meat

Now on this Halloween night
the little boy must watch as everyone goes and thinks him a dummy
They do not know the terror that has been committed
but tomorrow for sure
will be the time of evidence
When everyone sees
a body part or three
sitting in their bag
with all the delicious candy
as red as can be.

Watashi no Zensoku

Notes: Please think in metaphors. This is meant for open interpretation, though I of course wrote with my own plot in mind. I would be honored if this piece of writing was re-read once or twice to understand it's meaning. At the same time though, I hope everything I implied was obvious enough. It's title (As implied int he subject, is "Angel's Trumpets"... which I find to be a very beautiful plant.) Please enjoy smile

As evening comes, I exit the room and touch the yellow cedar wood as I slide the door closed. I draw in a thick, silent breath of air. I then start walking at a slow and graceful pace. As I move along the path, my feet feel the cool gravel. Today I am alone. Amidst the calm serene garden, I may think and feel. Just as the angel trumpet only opens at night, I only show my true colors when the dominating and intimidating fear is gone. I smile and pause, my feet had begun gliding across a carved wood bridge. As the wind quietly speaks, I stare out at the murky yet somehow glowing pond.

This is the moment which I decide I wish to become something. Due to this idea I close my eyes. I happen to remember what my late grandmother told me, “The answer lies ahead.” So I open my eyes to the focal point of this surreal atmosphere. My eyes fall upon a singular petal that gently drifts atop the murky water. It is perfectly illuminated. The base of the petal is a dark and warm color while the same color streaks through the surrounding softer color. Once again I close my eyes, and begin to become this petal.

Though the breeze grows mad, I cling to the tree, which supplies my life. Despite my longing spirit, I can no longer hold on to the youthful tree. I detach, and become numb as I melt to the Earth’s surface. I begin to feel the contrast of sea and sky, for I have started to float atop the murky pond. At first, signs of the life around me bring such comfort. But life grows colder each day, for the winter has arrived.

By the time spring comes, I am dry, brown, and crisp. For some time, I’ve learned to accept this fate. But as I had started to feel some sort of comfort, something comes from the sky. As this insect lands on me, I feel its sticky legs, smell its disgusting stench, and hear the terrible buzzing. It crawls all over my dry body, and then lays eggs on me. I have been forcefully sullied.

Will these eggs insult me too? Will they leave a mess and become a part of the sky? I question this for sometime, as the days pass. I float on, becoming numb. The same creature comes from the sky time and time again, each year laying more and more eggs on me. Numb, I become. So numb those when I finally sink, I can not even tell.

The water pushes me down, down so far that there is no light. I’ve succumbed to nothingness. Blue slits forming in my eyes take me back to reality. I tilt my head towards the sky. There is light. The light soaks my face and warms y body. I see the petal’s pale softness floating along the water’s edge. Is the petal soft? Is it fragile? My feet once again pass over the thick wood and uneven gravel. As the edge of the water becomes closer, the smooth grass beneath my feet tickles. I roll up the bottom of my yukata and submerse my feet.

The still water is much colder than one would imagine. I wade slowly and patiently as not to disturb the petal’s position. Even now the water’s surface reaches past my waist. The sof weeds below my feet help them to stay planted. I’ve finally reached the petal. All my pale fingers work to scoop the petal up into my hands. I run my fingers over the base of the cold, damp leaflet. The edges are rough and coarse, while the inner side is extremely tender. Though the elbows I posses to little to clamp the bottom of y yukata to my body, I still hold the petal to my nose. I take in it’s tiny frail smell. Cool water, fused with the scent of a once lush flower. Though the petal is no longer lush it’s scent is till recognizable. It still exists as I do, a broken woman with pieces scattered every which way. Perhaps people can someday pick up my pieces one by one and admire them as well.

Prinzzez_Kitten

Hell Hound of the Baskerville

“Go on Susan, I dare you.” That was enough. I was done! I was willing to do anything to shut her up, even if it was indulging in her stupid little dare. Jessica had been my friend ever since we were both very small. But we had grown so far apart this year… She loved pink, and I loved black. She was popular, and I was an outcast. I was Goth and she wasn’t. She knew I had changed my name to Luna, why did she have to pander herself by calling me Susan, a name I had long ago let go of.

Jessica’s dare was for me, her and group of her boring preppy friends to spend a night in the graveyard. It was lame and childish, but she did it to make fun of my gothic ways. Truth be told, I liked graveyards, but I’d never tell her that.

So there we were, in the graveyard at 8 pm sharp. Jessica, he boyfriend Jordan, back up mini Jessica’s Taylor and Bri, and the only person I could stand her emo friend Tristan. Apparently Goth was lame, but emo was cool. But still, I liked Tristan. I mean I might have even had a crush on him. I’d never tell Jessica. “Goth’s don’t have feelings!” She’d giggle.

As we stood admiring the gate a stray black dog with strange red eyes, almost like fire came up to us and started to bark madly. Everyone screamed and I clutched Tristan’s arm not looking at the dog. Eventually it just seemed to disappeared into the mist of the night, so we shook it off.

I felt it might be fun to indulge in Jessica’s teasing, and I sat on a gravestone and pretended to be right at home. I started to talk to the man buried there to freak them out. Jordan, Jessica and the clones looked a little bothered by this, but Tristan fought hard to stifle a laugh. I took it up a level and fell off the gravestone, then slowly sat up and pretended to be posed. I made predictions about their deaths, which I had frequently thought about in. At this Tristan finally broke out laughing and it echoed around the stones.

I spent the next hours jumping out from behind graves and speaking in tongues. We had all brought some food and drink for the night, and we settled down to eat. Bri and Taylor huddled together and moaned about being in a graveyard at night, but Jessica barked at them to shut up.

From behind us I heard more crazed barking, and it sounded just like the dog from before. I ended up wrapping my arms around my knees and closing my eyes shut. I liked dogs, but this one in particular was frightening. I sure it had everything to do with the fact it was Halloween. Leave it to Jessica to make this a Halloween getaway.

I heard the others screaming away, and I just hugged myself tighter. Soon the barking stopped and Tristan shook me free. I looked at him, he looked frightened and ridged. Then we heard Bri swearing. Taylor screamed again and I turned around.

Bri cradled her hand and stood by a patch of scorched grass. Jessica bent down and felt the grass and then pulled away, and sucked on her fingers. She then spat them out and looked as if she had eaten slugs.

“This grass is brunt! It’s freaking hot!” She began to swear, and Jordan tried to calm her down. “It’s right where the dog was standing!”

“It smells like sulfur,” I whispered to Tristan. “Or brimstone.” He helped me to my feet.

“We need to get out of here,” he said back. He announced this to everyone else, who seemed eager to agree.

“No! No way! And let Susan-” Jessica started.

“Luna.”

“Let Susan win? No! We stay!” I rolled my eyes. I didn’t care so much. The clones hugged each other. “It’s probably another trick from her anyway. It’s just a dog! Don’t lose your heads.”

So we stayed. I had stopped my antics of trying to scare them. I had pity for the twins and Jordan, but mostly Tristan. I sat by him while Jordan and Jessica had one of their famous make out sessions.

“That dog… It had red eyes. Am I crazy?” Tristan asked, his eyes looking pleading. I patted his hand.

“No. It’s Halloween. It makes everything seem scarier.” I tried to be comforting to him, seeing myself in his large, thick glasses. He offered up a weak smile. Then the smell of smoke, flame, brimstone. Then wilder barking.

Something had finally clicked in my mind. I stood up and grabbed Tristan’s hand and I pulled him to run, away from the dog’s barking.

“Where are we going Luna?” He asked frantic.

“I don’t know yet! Away! Whatever you do don’t look at that dog!”

“Why not? Its just-”

“Don’t look!” I said pulling us to gravestone. I yanked him down and closed my eyes muttering not to look at the dog, praying he had listened to me. The barking was right in front of us, loud and supernatural. I felt tears spill from my eyes, sulfur filling my nose unpleasantly. Then it stopped. I stuck my hand out, feeling. Nothing. I timidly opened my eyes and saw nothing there. I heard crashing behind us and I held my breath.

“No more, Jess! We need to leave, now!” Cried the clones. I jumped to me feet.

“Did you see that dog three times?”

“Yes. Why?” Answered the clones, with Jordan and Jessica nodding in
agreement. I gulped heavily. I had been right.

“If you see it three times… You die and instant and painful death,” I murmured.
Everyone broke out in horrified words. Jessica blundered forward.

“You guys! She’s just trying to scare us!” She said haughtily. Tristan pushed my behind him protectively.

“It doesn’t matter. We have to get out of here. NOW,” he said bravely. Jessica looked offended, and I knew Tristan had just been un-friended.

Yet she finally listened and we all ran to her car and got in. The clones kept asking me if they would die, but I wouldn’t answer. I just held Tristan’s hand. He hadn’t looked, we’d be fine.

The car started and we zoomed down the highway and away from the graveyard, Jessica accusing me all the way. She turned back to look at me and yell when suddenly…

The car hit head on with another car at full speed.

It felt like and explosion took place. We were all flung from the car and I felt my arm had been broken. Blood tickled from everywhere. My clothes were ripped. But I was alive. I saw Tristan lying on the ground and I shook him, almost happy to know he’d be okay. His glasses shattered and blood trickled from his mouth.

“Tristan?” No response. “Tristan? Tristan please.” He didn’t move. I Stood up and looked down at him, crestfallen.

“You looked.”

**

Everyone is left horrified by the deaths of four teenagers last night on highway 11. It’s assumed that after a night of drinking the young driver, Jessica Albane, swerved into the other lane and hit head on. Friends of the deceased argue that the deaths are due another young woman, Susan ‘Luna’ Smith. Yet upon further research it seems that this woman never existed. No birth record or school records.

Anyone at the scene of the crash, however, swears that they saw a young lady matching Susan’s description, bleeding and walking away with a large black dog at her side, which she was petting. They also say the scene of the crash smelled staggeringly of brimstone and sulfur, and that everything seemed to have been burned around the young teens.

At any rate, this small town is left in mass hysteria by this mysterious crime.

Azusanga

It was my first time holding a gun. The smooth metal rested heavily in my hands, and I shook heavily while staring down it's barrel. I gulped, biting my lip, a single bead of sweat leisurely sailing down my forehead. A sharp pain on the side of my head brought my eyes up into the raging gaze of my best friend, Tiffany.
"You idiot! You never look down the barrel unless you want to die!" she growled, jerking the gun from my hands. She was smart not to give me a bullet right away.
"What if you don't want to die and someone points it at you?" I asked, a hint of sarcasm in my tone. She just rolled her eyes and tossed me my polished stick, slipping the gun back into her blood splattered jeans.
"Then you're dead. No questions asked." she finished, trailing her hands over the face of her husband, the soulless eyes closing beneath her finger tips.

Let me back up. My name is Kaia, and I'm best friends with a beatiful miss Tiffany. It's 2019, and we live in the boisterious Boston, running a pet shop together. We're both married to the men of our dreams, and we have the perfect life. Well, almost perfect. You see, a big electric plant was recently put up nearby. I know you're reading this and wondering how caveman we must be to still use electricity, but it was only one of a few in the state. Back that up, a few in the country. It's so unreliable, but too many old fashioned people still think it's cleaner and safer than using Pasaden. Silly old people. Anyways, Tiffany and I live in a duplex, her on one side and me on mine. A sliding glass door seperates our halves, and it's almost never closed. I dunno if you can tell, but we're inseperable.
"Get your a** in here!" was my wake up call one chilling November evening. I knew Tiffany's voice by now, so I groggily threw my robe on and shuffled to her half of the house. When I stopped rubbing my eyes long enough to see, I nearly fell flat back on my a** from the sight of the blood splattered all over the floor and cupboards. It was running down the grooves in the fancy wood, staining the white I so laborously made it.
"What happened?!" I yelled, kneeling next to Tiffany's husband, Fred. His wrists were cut deep, the strokes short and close as they dotted up and down his tan forearms. His lips were stitched together, the wire pulling the entry holes larger and larger. But what I noticed the most, what made me put my blood stained hand against my mouth, was his missing eyes. The blue organs were hanging from the ceiling, the fishing line soaking in his blood. Tiffany's gaze met mine as we both looked around in horror. Our first unspoken word was who, though that was probably going to never be answered. Our second was why. Fred was nice, didn't really make enemies. Tiffany fell into my arms, and I began to console her, still in shock myself. Time passed for quite a while before Tiffany's eccentric sobbing slowed to the occasional gurgle.
"Let's get you back into bed." I told her, brushing her hair back and helping her up into her room. Immediatly she curled around a pillow, still in deep shock over her loss. I closed the door, and turned around.

My heart stopped beating. Time slowed as I looked into the ripped up face of Fred. His jaw hung lax, held only in place by the wiring and tearing skin. His fingers were curled around a butcher's knife, the knife gleaming as if it were smiling in the noon sun.
"Fred.." I whispered, staring into his eye sockets. From the ceiling, his eyes began to move, before they focused down on me. Fred's brows came together in a look of concern, but they quickly turned down into hatred and malice as a loud rip made me gasp. The skin holding Fred's jaw had torn, a fresh spray of blood splattering against the floor. And then it began.
Fred lunged forward, the knife plunging deep into my arm. Twisting back, I kicked him in the stomach, his grip loosening on the knife enough for me to jerk it away from him. The white hot pain hit me as I pried it away from my bones, dropping down to the ground and scurrying between his legs. He reached down and grabbed my ankle, twisting it to the side. With a scream, I turned and plunged the knife into his leg. He gave a small chuckle, releasing my twisted appendage and pulling the knife easily from his leg. My eyes widened and I began to shake, pulling myself across the floor army style, groping the tiles for anything to attack him with. Anything. He limped behind me, his gurgling cackle, spitting blood all over my body.

"Please no." I whispered, attempting to crawl beneath the kitchen table. But he was faster than me. He stood above me and laughed, looking at his scared little prey. I began to shake, reaching for the chair and breaking a leg off. The chair toppled over onto me, but I didn't care. I flung it aside, and jammed the chair leg up into Fred's gut. He gave me a confused head tilt, grabbing onto my wrist and lifting me up to his level. His bloody smile made me shiver, my mouth opening slightly in fear. He began to squeeze my wrist harder and harder, and I could hear the bones cracking. There goes my good arm. He looked up at his eyes, and I looked as well. The eyes stared down at me.
"If you don't kill me, I'll give you your eyes back." I whispered, and his grip on my wrist loosened. Laborously, I stood up onto the table, reaching up and pulling the eyes down from the ceiling. I swung them over to him, and he popped them back in, strings and all. I shuddered, before jumping down from the table and sprinting to the back of the house. I could feel the pain in every step, but the sound of his footsteps kept me going.
"Oh dear God." I murmured, as I froze at the back door. The entire backyard was filled with eyeless bodies. Blood was everywhere, and people were piled atop eachother. And then I turned around.

I was really lucky to drop to the ground when I did. Tiffany shook violently, the smoking barrel of her gun making me wonder how she'd managed to get a headshot. I looked up at her and gave a small smile.
"I don't think we're getting the safety deposit back." I said, and she gave a dry laugh.
"I don't think that's our biggest worry right now." she said, wiping her hands onto her blood splattered jeans.
"You're going to need this." she said, tossing me the gun. And then I looked down it's smoking, shining barrel.

It is not about me

I am Heath, Fae Anne Lucy Heath. I live alone in a small dark room. I am going to tell you the story of how the world came to an end and I was one of the only survivors. I tell you this story of evil and danger. I must hurry and if anyone reads this, don't let it happen to you.
Kristin and Melinda were walking home from school when they seen an old man begging for money. Melinda was going to give him a few pennies but, when she got 3 yards away he got up and ran towards them. She turned and looked at Kristin but, she was gone like yesterday. She ran after her at full speed. The man was getting closer, his eyes full of madness and violence. Melinda screamed and ran in her house and slammed the door shut. Kristin banged on the door.
“Mel, let me in!” She screamed but, by the time Melinda heard her, the man got her and drug her away. Tears ran down Melinda's face and she called the cops. They rushed over and interrogated her and the neighbors. They searched the city but, no trace of Kristin. Kristin came home at midnight that night with a crazy story of escape.
The next day Melinda was at the bus stop in high hopes of seeing Kristin again. The bus came and Mel got on. She saw Kristin in their seat and she gave Kristin a hug. Kristin seemed fine so she thought it was safe. Kristin smiled and hugged back. She also inhaled deeply and it was awkward for Melinda.
School was boring to the girls. Nothing was learned and no good drama. After school Mel and Kristin walked home together. When they got to the right street Kristin gave Mel another hug. “I am so glad we are friends!” Kristin stated and they departed.
Mel wasn't feeling so good so she took a nap. When she awoke, she murdered her whole family and ate them alive. She was evil and had no control over her actions. The two girls were on a rampage of carnivorous being. The ones who got away turned into one of them within hours. The disease spread across the world and killed millions.
There are few survivors who write of this terrible day. We wait in hopes of a day were the things all die of starvation. They are getting smarter, they have dug holes in the ground to drag us out. I hope that this never happens again and when life begins anew, take care of everyone around you. This is me, Fae Anne Lucy Heath, signing off. Goodbye world, take care.

Only my second writing contest so I hope you like it!

.intro.prizes.rules.judges.entries.donators.pastwinners.affiliates.

[Vanilla eXee]

Obscurus

B̴̡̦ͫ̅̂̈͆ͭ͞ȩ̫͇̠͔ͦ͆̀ͨ̊̄͐̚͝͡g̜̲̰ͦ̈͊͒͌̑ͤ̕͝i̢͇̬̗̜̰̼̗ͩ́͘ͅn̸͍͖̝̤̳̞̖̥͎͗̾͐́ņ̟͆ͣ̉̐͒͌̔ͣ́͘͢i̞̺̣̳̰͌̅̔͂ͪ͠ͅn̝͉̤̮͒̽̾̑̀ͅg̰̣͙̻̖̖͈̠̖̿̓ͩ ̸̴͍͈͖̐ị̢̺̭ͬͫ̂ͨ̉ͥ̍͞n̶̶̩̘ͣ̊ͯ́i̩͖̞̙͈͉͋̀̆̍̍̓̾̌ͅt̛͚͖̜͔̲̽̒̑͛ͫ̏̾̄̓̀͡ͅͅͅį̬̥͍̣͔̇͞a͚̻̰̓ͣ̏̀l͓̫̮̻͗̆ͧ͝į̘̟̻̭͚͔̅ͣ͊̀̈ͧ͊͊́͜z̼̒͊̉̃̈́̓̓̿̚a̝̼̫̯̺͛̾͆͞ͅţ̧̛͉̺͕͓̫̓ͯͣͣ̉̉ͪǐ̬̠͔̓̉ͤ͟ơ̬̟̟͇͔͈̪ͫͭn̻͉̩͍̟̭̟̼̍͊̂͡ ̵͓͚̝̝̱̟̊̽̆̔̐oͯ͏̞̪̼̻̝̹̜̕f̥̆̒̿͐ͭ̚ ̴̶ͨ̀ͧ͑ͧ̒͒͏̭̰t̡͔̫̜͖̠̰̫̳̿ͭͤ̈ͪ̍̎ỉ͉̱̮̺͈͍͕͍͢m͉͇̤̮̣ͫͧ́͒͂ͪ͑e̷̻̩̘̖̳̗̹̫̦ͣ̓-̾ͦ̊ͫ̔̀ͪ҉͔̻̠͕s̶̨̖̖̪͓̙̃̑̾̔̌̕t̴̛͚̺ͪ̀̑ȑ̴̛̖͚͚̟͍͙̱̓͘a̷͖̟̮ͫͣn̝͍̘͎̠̾̎͋ͪ̄͘d͓̼̖̩̬͍̑̑̔̊ ̞͈̖͚̯̺͎̙̌͠m̴̦̥̼͓̣̠̮͑ͧ̽͆a͙̻̹̍̓̎n̟̈́͐ͫ̀̏̍́͜͝ạ̵̭͈̏̍ͣ͜g̪͓͕͈̼ͦ̊͑ͧ̑͝e̢̺͚͇̭͇͇̫͆͒͒͂ͯ̏ͪ͝͠m̵͔̯̯͉̜͓̌ͬ̌ͫē͐͐̃ͩ̓̈̾͏̨̫̝͔̦͈n̵̶̰̪̫̭̦̘̯̗̞ͧͯ̈́̅̉͝t̨͉ͯͪ ̵̸̦̳͍̹͊̿͐̿ͯͅs̸̢̫͕̖̳̆̊͌͗ͧͪ͂͗ǫ̳͎ͨ̋̆̍ͧ̃ͬͧͅf̢͖̥̣̼̩̟͌͑̂̆͆t̴̜̮̠̦̝̠̖̏̆ͩ̋̃̋ͦ̌̆͟͜w̸͉̣ͪ͆͢a̴̭͛̋͜r̵̙̳̄̏͐͒͋eͪ́͂̋̅ͦ́ͥ҉͓͓̦.̷̢̢͇̫͉̯̠͎̘͗͋ͤ͐̚.̷͍̟̫̰̙̜̓̌̾͘.̹͓̭̤͚͖̱̑̋̎ͦ̌̅̅̎͘͞.͉̙̪̳̠͖̑͊̍ͯ͟
̦̩͑̑́̌̔ͤͭP̨̠͖̩̺͆͐̂ͭ̍ͥ͢͜o̶͎̭̜̟͇͗ͨ̅ͩ̕ͅẉ̵̺ͪ̇ͤ̎̄͘e͇̅ͬͤ͌̐́͡r̲̤͉͎̠̱̱ͯ̿ͥ́ͅi̷̵͚̝̬̣̼͍̖̫̎ͮͫ͞ņ̘̰̟̫͙̥ͦ͑ͥͦ̑͢͡ͅg͕̝ͭ͐ͨͭͪ͂̍̂ͮ̀͡ ͚̭͕̖̯͈̍́ͯͯuͭ̂̃͗҉̷̝̳̲̩̲͙̪p̘̭̮̙͎̐̓͑ͯ̅ ̨̡̠ͧ̎̏̊̾ͣͦ͢t͕̜̦̘̮͕͊͒͗̒͆ͮͯ͘ͅe̠̻ͫ̐̂̒ͤ̃̍̀ͅmͦ͛ͧͧ̔̊҉̡͚̦̦̰̣p̨̧͕̰̻͙̬̗̪̭̻̽ͮ͋̈͊͌o̩̣̯̼̞̲͂ͩͥ̈́̐ͧ̐͛r̴̲͑̿̔̽̊͌̂a͌ͮ̔ͤͬ̚͏͚̦̹̰̕l̡̜̖̼̹̓̒̌̄̎̅̀̚ ̡̛̠͓͙̈́t̰͙̫̣̜͓̙̭ͫ͊͜r̡̢͙̟̎͛̏̏̈́à̛͎͈̪̙̳͍ͅṋ̼̭̲̘͗̌͘s̒͏̲m̸͇̥̬͇̳̺̑͋̉̀ͮͯ́͝i̝̠͚͈̫̔ͦ̓̅̀͌ͪ͗ẗ͎͍̘͇̖̼̙́̍̂t̻̺͔̞̫̺̙͗ͣͨ̄ͣ̾͠è͓̅͛̌ͯͩ̐r̴͚̝̣̳̣̲͉̯̈́̐̒̽ͩ͟.̖̤̬͇̟ͥ͢.̴̹ͭͧ͋͌ͬ͘.̸̯ͤ̓ͩ̿͊̓ͭ.̡̨̺̣̀͢
̰̙͙̬̲̤̬͛̃̎͑R̷̸͔͙̯͈͍͔̮̗͂̄ͧ̽̓ͨ̌̐͟ḙ̷̈ͣ͗̇̈͊͊̚͘͡f̯̙̰̭̯͉̼̖̆̓̇͛ͤ̑ͪ̕͝į̷͔̻̦̠̹̻͓͍̓̍̅̀́ṉ̵̢̠̰̝̪ͩ̄̉̋̿̄̇̓̊͝íͣ͛̌̇̚҉̡̡̬̠͈n̴̴̨͎͓̱͎̱͕͉̆̓̇̋̎g̿̋͞҉̠͔̖̙̠̥͙͖̣ ̨̀ͬ҉͎̣̥͟ḃ̘̣̈r͕͎̗̼̭̗̯͉̅̋͒͗̇͛͡͝ȍ̮̝͙͎͉͔̇̈́͂̉̀a̜̪͔̮̯ͭͫ̔̓͠ͅd͙̣̤̈̂͐̾̈̓́͑̕͟c̱͍͕̲̹͐̂̕a̧̛͔̫̠̣̫͖̗͛̂ͦ̃͡s̞͎̳̗͇ͦ̀̑̕t̻̫͆͞ ̦͆̽͗̄̑ͧ́͢͠p̧̹̳̘̼̺̯̲̬̽̾̐ͦͥͦ̑͝a̤̪̅̒͘r̡͑҉̼͈̬͈̫̳͍a̛̜̙̫̭ͧͥ̄ͬ̀ͧ͞m̶̘͙̥̲̞̖̼̜͙ͥ͆͊̏ͬ͊͠e̷̥̘̙̫̹͆́ͪ̍͟t̢̿ͤ͐҉͖e̡̘̗͎̤̰ͭr̨̜̣̅̓͝sͮ̏́͋͗ͣͧ҉̢̡͓̹̯̻.͔͖͖̖͖̯̰ͧͫ̾͘.̶̜͔̞̞̇͒͝.̣͈̮̚.͈̮̳͓͓͉͒̈́́̚
̸͎̲̤̉̈̅͂͒͆̈́̀C̡̺̗̪̙͂̄͑͜oͪ̾̔̊̓̀́҉̵̷̘͚m̶̻͉͔̼͓̓ͦ̉m̷͉͌̓͌͒̎̓͐e̺͖̻̖̳̱͈ͦ͊ͨ̿ͯ̔̆ͫͅn͙̻̲͈̣͚͙̭͒ͥͮ̄c̡̛̜͕̩̅ͥͧͭ̋ͤ̀i̗̙͖̩̤͚̣͓̓ͧͣ̔͒ͮͦͣǹ̰̿͛̈̉́͗́͟g̵͈̭̜̃͋͒ͯ̿ͦ͐ͬ̊̕ ̡̞͇̩̹̘̓ͤͮ̃̒̀ͅt̰̟̄̃ͣͣ̔͐ṟ̪̳͇͕̺̲̫̆͟͞a̞̰̦̥̭̐͢ͅnͤ̒̈ͦ͑͑̓̐҉͕̮̜̪̙̬̥s̛̳̹̉̍̉̈̏m̧̈́̒͏̝̥͕̺̭͉̯̺̖i̛͚̞̝͗̔͊̀s̴̡̼͍̪͖̐̅ͭ̂͛͘ş̯̟͚̱̑̅͂ͨ͆̿̈́͡i̧̖͕̬͉̖̼͔̤̖ͮͫ̀ͣ͞o̔ͯ́͢͏̖̰̱̻͙̪ͅn̵̟̺̪͕̯ͧͥ̉ͧ͗̿̀.͇̖̭̰͔͍̮̪͂̓́͂̔͛͒̅.̷̺̤̜̦̥̥ͮ.ͯ͌̕͏̛̤̖̝̮̝͚͍̻̥.̰̮̜̖ͣ̉͊ͭͥ́͘
The conspiracy theorists and doomsayers didn’t know what the they were talking about. Well, maybe some of them did, but no one seemed to see it coming. The year is 2018 and we’re finally starting to reach some semblance of normalcy again but things will never be the way they once were. The world has been fundamentally changed for better or for worse.

Back in the years before 2012 everyone was either crazy about the end of the world or scoffing and making fun of those that believed such a ridiculous idea. There was talk of astronomical alignments, collisions with comets or Planet X, the End of Days, the Rapture, our planet rising to a higher energy level, human ascension, the collapsing of some mystical veil, and some people didn’t think anything at all would happen. The theories were almost unlimited and everyone had a slightly different one depending on their religious beliefs or worldview.

As it turns out something did happen. It perhaps wasn’t that different from the theories presented because there was a lot of overlap. Everyone was a little bit right. However, one thing that did catch everyone off guard was that it didn’t happen in 2012. It was November 17th, 2011 when the first reports started making the news and all hell broke loose.

The Mayans that everyone espousing doomsday theories were so fond of were very mathematically precise and knew their stuff when it came to the movements of celestial bodies. Less precise and knowledgeable were the people translating the Mayan calendars that predicted the “end of the age.” As I said, it came early and no one was expecting it. Even if we were expecting it there wasn’t a damn thing we could have done about it. We were unprepared in every way. But I’ve rambled for too long now with the prelude. Let me get to what actually happened.

On November 17th, 2011 reports began to hit the news cycle of spirits and strange creatures being spotted all over the world. These weren’t your usual lens-flare-as-ghost or black-bear-as-bigfoot sorts of stories either. These incidents were happening in rural areas, urban areas, and everywhere in between. They were happening in broad daylight within range of dozens of cameras and hundreds of witnesses. There was little room for ambiguity when a six-foot-tall, red-eyed, fanged creature with spines down its back suddenly appeared in Times Square in broad daylight, fleeing before it could be captured or killed.

Terrifying events like this were happening all over the globe and people were starting to panic. The governments of the world did the predictable thing and claimed that it was a terrorist attack; extremists releasing hallucinogens into the air and water and using costumes to induce fear. It was an obvious cover up to the people that had actually witnessed these events but most of the public bought the story for a while. Eventually things just became too strange to ignore.

At first these beings didn’t interact with us. Perhaps they were as perplexed as we were. They seemed to appear out of nowhere and perhaps that’s how they perceived us as we became visible to them, hence the initial reports of their appearance and subsequent fleeing. As more exotic beings began to come through some started to refer to them as demons, angels, fairies, and the like but they were almost without exception extremely beautiful or extremely grotesque and their appearance was no indication of their intentions.

It was about a week before the nightmare began. After a certain point these beings were becoming a common occurrence, everyone could see them on a daily basis, and at this point a kind of critical mass was apparently reached. Most of the beings began to attack humans and destroy our cities and towns. They would rampage in groups and kill and destroy without reservation, tearing people limb from limb and letting them bleed out just to hear them scream in terror and pain.

They would collapse a building and then revel in the cries of those trapped inside. They would seek out with their preternatural senses those that attempted to hide and then take pleasure in scaring them literally to death. These “demons” were absolutely ruthless and delighted in causing us pain and despair. Cults of worship sprang up in hopes of appeasing these living nightmares but all they accomplished was becoming playthings for the creatures.

So we went to war with these vast armies of extraplanar entities and we were without exception thwarted at every turn. Our weapons had little effect on these beings and they shrugged off most attacks. Not even thermonuclear weapons could stop them for very long. We learned that some of the entities seemed to be on our side but they were as vastly outnumbered as we were and could only do so much. Only when the occultists got involved did we manage to score some real victories. It was them that discovered that all of that magical nonsense of antiquity was enhanced to a “real” level by whatever had caused all of these strange events in the first place. We had a weapon against the invaders that we came to call EPs (short for extraplanars).

It took years but with our new discoveries and our EP allies we managed to restore some semblance of normalcy. The cities were left desolate and broken after the mass exodus and destruction caused by the invasion but we have been rebuilding them. Most technology ceased to function after the utility services were abandoned or destroyed but we’ve made some breakthroughs on that front, merging our newfound magic with science to produce some amazing technologies that are clean and sustainable. Seventy percent of the human population of earth was extinguished during the years that we fought the invaders but we have survived at a sustainable level with greater understanding of what it means to be human. The planet is stronger and healthier and we’ve discovered it has a life and an intelligence of its own now.

And that brings me to the reason you are reading this. My research indicates that this should reach you sometime before the first incidents occur on November 17th in the year 2011. Time travel, while scientifically impossible, is something that we have been experimenting with using our new technology. Magic can alter space and time in ways that we could only dream of in a Newtonian or even quantum paradigm. So then my message to you is this:

Prepare for the invasion. November 17th, 2011. We know of no way to stop it. The forces behind the merging of our plane of existence with the others are as intrinsic to our universe as gravity or light. It is like trying to stop the rotation of the earth. It will happen and it is unavoidable. Prepare by studying the lore and mythology of ages past. Practice the rituals and techniques in preparation for when they will be powerful enough to combat the EPs. Don’t suffer the losses we did while struggling to find an effective weapon.

Not all EPs are bad. You will, however, not be able to tell the difference initially and only their actions will tell you what their motivations or allegiances are. Just know that they will come and you must be ready. My hope is that in communicating this to you in the past it will mitigate some of the carnage that occurred before we knew how to combat the threat. You must study the occult lore! These are truly occult beings that we have encountered and which you soon will encounter. Prepare for the initial panic, store yourself away during the chaos, and then come out prepared to fight back. REMEMBER NOVEMBER 17TH, 2011.


With greatest hope,

Jonas Crawson
Director of Temporal Magical Research and Application
United Nations Bureau of Occult Management
Ț̴̵̜̭͋ͪ̂̅̓ͮͥ͟r̰̞̭ͥ̍͑a̵͕͇̱̓ͤ̚͠n̖̤̙̻̟̾̉͂ͨ͌̕š̷͚͈̗̣̤͚̣̖̩͋͌͝m̸̧̱̫̙̠̞̫̺̙̈̂i̶̢͙̰̋̐̿ͧͦͭͫ́̂s̡̡̟̅̒ͦ̓̇̏̓ͫs̜͇̭̹̬ͫͪ̂͟͢͠i̵̯̼̦̱͕̞͇͐ͣ̈́͒ͥ̓̉͝o̫͚͈̖̯̜͔̯ͫ̑̋́ͨ̚͢͟n̫̞̘̫̻̼̹̾͌ͩ͝ ̪̟͕̟̻̠͊ͯ̄ͥ̀̚ṯ͙̺ͧ̇ͭ̂̎ȩ̴̧̖̳͉̘̭̗͌̓̆̍͋ͬ̅̎̚ŗ̷̤̹̫̝̬̦̅̿̈̓m̒̉ͪͦ͏̲͍̟͎̭͠ḯ̛̝̝̜̹̣̃͆̈́̏ň̷̶̰̤͙̲̖̘̲̀̎̔̒a͈̥̥͎̙̩̬ͨͧ̇̔͋̾̀͠t͕̘̬̭̳͎ͧ̋͗̚e͆̃̑ͯ̌̎͗͒҉̹͔̯̝̯̻ḑ̋̎͏̭̜͖̬̦͇̠̠.̺͉̟͎̹͖̤͌̇ͭ͜͠.̛͕͕̣̲̊͆͒͛͆̉.̯̫͓̻ͭ͒̊ͬ̃̅̋̚.̵̡̥͂ͪ̿̔ͧ͢

ThatOneMusicalGirl

It all started out as a harmless prank. How did things go so wrong? The blood... Oh god, the blood! It was everywhere... everywhere! My family... my friends... they’re all gone. All of them. I sat in the fetal position, curling myself into a ball. I was covered... covered in warm blood... but my insides were cold. All of them... and the killer... the killer was out there... and he was looking for me.

It was just earlier that day... things had been going so well! It was halloween. Me and my friends Jacey and Oliver were so excited. We were going to pull the best prank ever. It included a tank of fake blood, fake knives, and fake animal carcasses. My family was in on the prank too.

Our neighborhood had an annual halloween party, and this year, my mother and father had decided to host. So, they left it to me and my strange friends to come up with something scary. Since there weren’t any little kids in the neighborhood, Jacey, Oliver, and I decided to go with something a little gorier than usual. There would be a couple of dead raccoon carcasses at the door, covered in blood. They would just think that we went a little over the top with decorations. But then, when they opened the door, (that would already be slightly open for a creepy effect), they would enter the room. All of us would have stab wounds. There would be knives on the floor and realistic looking blood pooling all around us.

Brilliant right? It would’ve scared the snot out of anybody I knew! So, we cleared out the front room of all the carpet and furniture, (mom was a picky about getting the furniture stained,), and we started pouring the blood in preparation. It flowed so smoothly onto the floor, and it looked so real. It was so cool! Well, it was cool because it wasn’t real.

By the time we got it all planned out like we wanted to, Mom looked at her watch.

“I’m going to open the doors like we rehearsed.” Mom said, turning. Mom went to the front door. Suddenly, all the lights went out. I heard my mom scream bloody murder. I didn’t know what to do! I couldn’t see anything! I could hear slashing around me, throats gurgling as they were cut, bodies falling to the floor. I could feel myself being covered with the blood of my family and friends as somebody brutally murdered them. All I could see was black and red, black and red. I panicked! I didn’t know what to do! I crawled to the corner, holding back my whimpering, clutching my fake knife in my hand, my only means of protection.

And then, the lights turned back on. There was nobody in the room. Everybody lay on the floor, blood flowing freely from their gaping throats. Jacey and Oliver were mangled, and Dad still gasped for his final breath of air. He looked straight at me... I saw the life fade right from his eyes.

I rocked back and forth, my knuckles white around the fake knife. I started to cry, sure that certain death was right around the corner. The killer had known about the others, surely he would have known he missed one and would come back for me. I stopped breathing. I heard footsteps. Large, heavy boots, the ones that all killers wore in the movies. I grasped my fake knife, starting to hyperventilate, my whole body shaking. Then, I relaxed somewhat as I heard more footsteps. It was the halloween party guests, stepping into the house, shocked.

One lady screamed. I had just heard my mother scream... not too long ago... now she was dead. The party guests walked into the room and saw my crying.

One woman tried to run to my rescue, before a man stopped her. He grabbed her wrist, and her eyes widened.

All of the adults gathered around me, eyes wide. I looked at all of them, and they looked down at me. But, they weren’t looking at my eyes. They were looking at my hand. The knife. I looked down at my hand.

“N-no! It’s a fake knife!” I shouted, “It’s not real! It’s not real!” I looked over at my knife and shoved it into the ground.

“It’s supposed to be a prank, see!”

Its pointed edge sunk into the solid wooden floor about an inch. My eyes widened.

“No... No!”

Was I going insane?

“N-no! It can’t- I- I-”

It was all coming back to me now. All of it.

“I couldn’t have-”

When I had passed out the fake knives, I had kept the real one. When I had poured the tanks of fake blood, I had started salivating, my eyes hungry to see more and more of it dumped. The lights had not randomly gone out. I had turned off the master control. I had noted everyone’s exact location. I had sliced and diced, laughing sadistically as the blood covered me, giving me a warm coat of human life. And then, when it was over, I sat down, and imagined that it had all been someone else.

The people stood in front of me, shocked. I could see them all dead right now. The woman’s through slit, her blood pouring down my shoulder as she gurgled for air. That man’s heart stabbed fifteen times, a cut fit enough to put into stew.

“Oh my god... What’s wrong with me...? WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME!?”

The people were all standing around me now. None of them were moving. It’s like they were all made of wax. Watching me... watching me... Were they even real? Staring blankly, no blood, no life, just... just... dead. They were all dead.

My vision changed. From wax, to all of them, piled on the floor. A blood bath, warm blood dripping down my arm, bloody knife in my hand. They were all dead? All of them... d-

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME!?”

The Nomad Xavier

My Entry: Pure Fiction-tastic Daymare

I remember clearly what you told me of the day they snatched you; school was ending and you were walking home to our uncle’s house. It was a familiar walk for you; out the school’s great iron gates, a right down Hall Street, along the foot path that runs under the Turret Highway, a short cut through Mrs. Andrews’s backyard and up the back alleys behind The Red Road and home.

You’ve walked that route for years, since you were twelve and started living with our elderly uncle and were long past the innocent fear you used to have about the narrow cobbled lanes that ran behind Dawn City’s red light district.

After all the back streets were empty and everyone knew the bad stuff happened on Red Street proper that was why it was infamous for after all.

I guess there isn’t really any excuse for your characteristic cooperation that day, you’d think a fifteen year-old would have more sense, than to give directions to a woman in a van in a back alley with no one else around. But I’ll save the details you told me then; suffice to say you barely felt the p***k of her needle in your wrist when she shook your hand, or the accomplice behind that caught you when you fell.

Waking up later was a strange feeling for you; the giddy hyper-alert felling in your mind contrasting against the numb paralysis of the drug, but the worst thing thing you felt was the pervading sense of being watched, not that being watched or rather starred at was completely new to you, but it was somehow stronger then than the feeling that comes to you, when you’re on the stage at assembly reading the notices and realise that the whole school is starring at you and giggling, because you’re not wearing shoes and your Sylvester and Tweety boxers are clearly visible through your open fly.

No... You remembered having to fight the all over numbness before you could open your eyes, but that you wished them closed again immediately after, when you took in the scene that you were the center of.

I recall vividly the way you shuddered and the way your face went pale and green as your mind’s eye depicts the scene in your head. And tears of sympathy full my eyes as you shakily tell your story.

We never knew the horrific stories the old days told about the old stadium on Red Street of the hundreds that gathered there on a Friday midnight, our uncle never told us about about the cult that ran this City’s Underworld, of the human sacrifices the followers made in the name the Founder.

I wish we had. I wish that our uncle hadn’t been of the many that Knew but denied the Truth in the hope that if they insisted it wasn’t real and hide the Truth from others, then maybe it might just go away, didn’t My death teach him anything.

But I guess there isn’t really anything we can do, for now it is done, because they killed you that night and in death we were reunited, when you told me your story and I told you mine, that at least you weren’t betrayed, but still... I wish that they told us, I wish that we Knew.

Then maybe things would have been different, maybe we could have Lived.

Banana Flavored Butt

It was early in the morning, before dawn. Our truck stopped a few feet short of a beaten pathway. Across, was the house we were to move into. It was a short, plain building. It was superior to the surrounding houses though. All the homes had a plantation feel to it, like the ones colonists used to have with the slaves and what not. No wonder.. we were living in Mississippi. As I stood in concentration, I was beckoned inside by my mother. It took me a while to find my room, despite the size of the house. I threw open the rough curtains with great force, and I could see the beaten path in clear view. The few rays of sunlight illuminated the age and wear of the trail. And in the distance, I could see a small figure. An animal perhaps? It appeared to be moving, the slightest. I saw it get smaller and smaller, it looked like it was descending. But I did not pay any more attention to it. I noticed the trees around the area, crowding and huddling. I went about my day constructing a routine to my days in this new place. Every now and then, I had an urge to paint the scenery, I had just finished setting up my easel and cleaned my brushes.

Throughout the day, I befriended a fellow like myself. He was rather timid yet knowledgeable. I asked him of the passage I noticed earlier. His worried face winced at the question. Blue was his name, explained to me that it served as a campsite for awhile, but soon became a place for cults to do unspeakable things. I looked at him indifferently. From where I came from, that was normal. I told him that we should explore the path and paint the view. By the look on his face, he seemed uneasy, but he gave in.

It was a week since Blue and I had that conversation. I kept putting it off because I had to help my mother move things into the house. At last, I had an evening to myself and I quickly packed my paint bottles and canvas. I called Blue over to help me carry the load of paint brushes and colorful bottles. Then we headed towards the pathway. The trees had an aura to them that attracted me. As we continued walking, the trees started to get thicker and the light was becoming less and less. We finally came to a clearing, about 12 trees were cut down. It appeared to be cut in some sort of pattern that I couldn't make out. I tried sticking the legs of my easel into the ground until I hit something. A noise was made when I did. I removed the leg out of the small hole I made and began digging. I looked closer, I saw a dull reflection of myself. Blue had been observing his surroundings when he noticed a small chrome bar covered with dirt sticking out of the ground, opposite to where I was digging. He started to dig around the bar. After about an hour, a chrome plate was revealed with a symbol engraved upon it. It was an "S" with a small red line going through the center of it. We looked at it in awe, wondering what it was. Suddenly, we heard a bang coming from inside the mysterious object. Blue backed up behind a nearby tree in terror. I heard the sound get closer and more audible. I grabbed my art supplies and easel and took shield behind a large tree. It was silent for a long time, and night had fallen. Blue and I were waiting for something to happen. In the darkness, we can barely see the reflection of the moon against the chrome plate. Then all at once, the plate flung open, and a soft light was projected from the unknown place. I knew what it was now, it was an underground building, perhaps a shelter? And it was big. I couldn't see Blue but I could sense his body shaking. A head peered out, and looked around. The head was blunt and covered. It appeared to be a mask for welders, but it was obviously tampered with, it covered the entire head. Then this figure came out from under the ground. This person had a man's body, but was very short. About five more people identical to him came out from underneath. The door of the structure closed and they began to walk deeper into the forest as a group. I listened for any sound of them.. nothing. I walked towards Blue and presented the idea of going into the underground place. He hesitated and suggested that he would watch out for anything suspicious. I agreed and opened the door to the unknown structure. A light blinded me, my eyes were accustomed to the dark, that the soft light became blinding. I quickly adjusted and looked inside. There were jagged stair steps leading down. Then I remembered the first day when I saw an unknown object descending into some place unknown. This must have been the place! I went down and I could feel Blue watching me descend with horror. Once I got down, I was in a big room with several stools and one metal table in the corner. Only the center of the room was lit, so I couldn't recognize some of the figures that were there. I did see the "S" symbol though, on a cloth covering some sort of object. I looked further and I saw a door with a small hole in the middle. I forgot to check on Blue so I went back up the stairs and looked. It was really dark and the moon was blocked out by the bushy trees. Blue was nowhere in sight, maybe he went back? He should have waited for me, it's a long and dark walk. I called him but got no response. Then I heard footsteps and ruffling. I didn't know whether I should get out or stay in the underground place. Maybe it was Blue coming back.. so I stayed on the stairs for a while. Then I heard a loud groan and I knew it was the group of people. I ducked and closed the door. The footsteps stopped and the groan was silenced. Then, a couple footsteps were made until a small yet long crushing sound echoed. The crunching sound made me realize that it was one of my paint bottles. I froze in fear. No one said anything, but I heard footsteps heading in the direction we came from. However, the groaning noise was coming back and was getting closer. I quickly looked for a dark spot to hide by the stairs. I took refuge in a small crevice in the corner of the staircase. There, I had a clear view of the room and anyone who came in. After a few moments of silence, the door was thrown open and the groaning turned into muffled screaming. I saw three men come in with a person. The person had a bag on their head that was tied around the neck. They threw the man or woman on the table in the corner and appeared to be tying them to the table. They moved the table to where the light was most abundant. The person was squirming on the table and the short men surrounding took off the bag. I could not recognize who this man was, but he appeared to be some sort of tourist or hiker. He had clothes that gave off the impression that he was. His eyes were bewildered and full of fear. One of the three men went to the covered object I discovered earlier and exposed it. It was a welding mechanism. It wasn't like those usual welding tools though, it looked much more complex and old. The man took out large pieces of some sort of metal and placed them on the victim's body. The metal looked to be hot and sort of melting. Then, the man grabbed the rod and directed it it at the poor victim. A small red light flashed on the rod and then a huge flame projected. The fire was blue and appeared to be melting the metal. The victim's muffled shrieks echoed in the room. After the melted metal covered the body,including the head, the man ceased the flames. Then, the metal began to solidify and forever silence the victim. When it was cool, another one of the torturers engraved their cult symbol into the metal. I watched in horror as the whole ordeal was completed. The three men lifted up the body and carried it through the door I saw of the next room. It was dark so I couldn't see inside that room. I heard a loud sound of the metal or whatever it was hitting another surface. Shortly, the cult members came back out in silence. They started to move things around in the parts of the room I could not see. I decided to make my escape. I slowly crept out from my corner and climbed the sides of the misshaped stairs. I got to the door but I could not see the men anymore. I quietly opened the door that led to freedom. Then I, as softly as I could, climbed out of the underground area and on higher ground. The coast was clear and I closed the door. The path was dark again because my eyes were adjusted to the brightness of the light in the torture room. I began my walk back home as fast as I could. I even left my art supplies behind the tree I hid behind, but it didn't matter at this point. I was walking at a fast pace when I heard some footsteps in the distance. I ran behind a tree, and quietly peeked my head out enough to see who it was. About 4 men, holding someone covered with a bag. The cult members seemed to have found another victim to perform their sick torture on. Once they were out of sight, I made my way down the path towards home. I finally reached the place where the nightmare had started, the beginning of the path. I climbed through the window of my room as to avoid confrontation by my mother. I slept soundly that night for some reason. The next day, my mother woke me up and brought to my attention that Blue had gone missing. I couldn't help but panic, what if that was the second victim I saw go down into that torture hole. I didn't tell her we went out on the path last night though.
It was about high noon when I ran back to the path in search of Blue. Everything looked different in daylight. I couldn't recognize where I was. And there had been more trees cut down, but I couldn't find the ones I saw the day before. My brushes and easel were also nowhere to be in sight. So I began looking for the chrome shell of the underground chamber. I dug and dug for about an hour. Nothing... It was evening, so I decided to head back home. I slept that night uneasy, I kept imagining Blue being welded on, and it traumatized me. Days went by, and nothing about Blue. No one could find him. I eventually gave up on finding the chamber on the path, it was as if it disappeared.

23 days later, it was an October evening. I was outside painting on my canvas, I had painted the beaten path and the unrecognizable figure descending down as I saw that one day. I saw cop cars pass by slowly, in search of Blue. Each day, the number of cars were becoming less and less. As I was painting, I noticed some men and a woman walk down my street, staring at me. I did not mind them much, until they walked back up my street. In their crowd, was a rather short looking man, he walked especially slow while he stared me down. I ignored them but I could feel their stares, so I made eye contact with them and they quickly looked away. I had never seen them around here before...

3 months later, Blue's family held a ceremony to remember their son. The friends, family and most of the neighborhood were invited. It was held at the local church. There were a lot of people there, talking. My mother and I expressed our sorrow to Blue's mother and father. I noticed his mother's timidity. And it reminded me of when we first became mates. I was looking at all the portraits of Blue when an unknown man stood next to me, he too, was examining the photo. We were silent for a few moments, then he spoke,"So you knew the boy, Blue was his name?" And I responded with a quiet but audible "yes". He turned to me while I was still looking at the picture. I could feel him looking at me, then he said,"So you paint, huh?" I slowly faced him with fear and did not respond. The rather short man said with a menacing smirk,"You know, you really ought' to not leave your painting tools behind.. Or your friend Blue.. "

And the man left the church, never to be seen again.

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[Vanilla eXee]

None yet!! PM Horror Inc your entries!!

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[Vanilla eXee]

imtammy: 35,000 gold
Sonkurra-Taichou: 100,000 gold
WackaWocka: Undisclosed
Doctor Atoms: Graciously provided the funding for this and many more contests.

If you'd like to donate to this and other Horror Inc. contests, please send me a trade and we will put your name here!

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[Vanilla eXee]

Coming soon!

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[Vanilla eXee]

The lovely banners you see in this thread were made by The Pink Piper. You can buy her art here or hire her for a job here.

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[Vanilla eXee]

[Vanilla eXee]

-cuts crime scene tape- This contest is now open for entries!

[imtammy]

I might enter. It's a might because I might forget about this entire contest/be too lazy to make up a story

[quash]

I will be participating. I am not very good and am not particularly good at fear, but I think my own form of terror will work it's magic on all who read. Be warned in advance, I do not lie, and thus, I do not write fantasy. My story might not be the most terrifying, but you must remember, it is completely from real life.