SCARE ME--20k prize, no entry fee

[EA Argento]

I've never been scared by a story--ever. In fact, as a horror writer, I don't get scared by much of anything these days. And since I've been sleeping too much lately, I now give you a test, a challenge. By any means necessary, SCARE ME. Don't just disturb me, or gross me out, scare the hell out of me.

There's no guarantee anyone will win this competition right away, but it's open ended. Which means, it'll be open to entries until I get scared. Someone will win. . .eventually.

The rules? There are none. No particular length or style preference--write a scary story that's. . .well. . .scary. Post it up, right here on the thread.

And since there's no entry fee, you've got nothing to lose!

So go on now, write away. Submit as many stories as you'd like, as soon as you'd like, but not right in a row.

Runner up--the person who came close but no cigar--gets 1k for trying.

Good luck.


PRIZE: 20k
FEE: 0

[Risingwolf85]

Risingwolf85

quote="EA Argento"]I've never been scared by a story--ever. In fact, as a horror writer, I don't get scared by much of anything these days. And since I've been sleeping too much lately, I now give you a test, a challenge. By any means necessary, SCARE ME. Don't just disturb me, or gross me out, scare the hell out of me.

There's no guarantee anyone will win this competition right away, but it's open ended. Which means, it'll be open to entries until I get scared. Someone will win. . .eventually.

The rules? There are none. No particular length or style preference--write a scary story that's. . .well. . .scary. Post it up, right here on the thread.

And since there's no entry fee, you've got nothing to lose!

So go on now, write away. Submit as many stories as you'd like, as soon as you'd like, but not right in a row.

Runner up--the person who came close but no cigar--gets 1k for trying.

Good luck.


PRIZE: 20k
FEE: 0

This is a true storie and here it goes " There was a kid he once had a whole family that picked on him constantly, so one day he couldnt take it so he killed him self with his dads revolver. They all felt bad about picking on him they just went depressed. So one day 2 weeks after thee kid died one of them died and they thought that he killed himself two but then half of the family went missing one night. Then they found a clue that it was the kid by seing black rose buds falling from the ceiling. Then one morning the husband woke up and found his wife slautered in the bath tub. He ran towards the front door opened it up and saw the kid looking and waitingfor something so the kid turned towards him and said "he tried to stop it" and the dad ran as far as he could and was turned in to an insane asilyme and too this day the only things he could say is "I could of stoped it" and "he'll be back".
reply when ready

[Platnum Saviour]

At school Tomas was the coolest kid, but at home he was the maid. So one day at school he wrote an e-mail to his best friend, Lucas telling him he was going to meet him at "Guns r' Us".
"Hey Tomas. Why did you want to meet me here?" Lucas was curious until he heard what Tomas wanted him to do.
"Lucas I need you to buy me a pistol, any one would do." Lucas was afraid of what Tomas would do, but he was his friend so he trusted that he would use it for self defence, so he went in and got the pistol and 10 extra rounds. He gave it to him and Tomas ran home.

Tomas walked in the front door and got yelled at by his father. His dad walked toward him and punched Tomas in the face. At that time Tomas took out his pistol and shot his dad in the eyes, then used the last of his ammo to shoot his brothers in the eyes and his pregant mother on the forehead. Then he took a steak knife from the kitchen and started dismembering his family. He took the body parts and put them in a garbage bag and drove them to the dump. The next day the police arrested him and he got a life sentence. That night his dead family appeared to him and killed him in the same way he killed them. His friend Lucas was charged for helping the murder by gettting the gun. He got 7 years with no parole or bail. Tomas' family appeared to him and shot him in the eyes.

By Tyler. I mean Platnum Saviour

[EA Argento]

No, and no. Sorry guys.

[Platnum Saviour]

One day a boy named Charlie Wackaweed, was making a wish on a star. He did not know that the wish he would be making would change his life forever.

It was late one night, when Charlie was looking at the stars. He had heard that if you wish on the first star you see, your wish will become true. So he spotted the first star that he saw, and he made a wish on it. His wish was that whatever he said or did, for it to come true. So for instance if he would say "Let it snow" it would snow.

Just a few days later, he was sitting in Geometry class wondering about the test they would have in about 5 minutes. When he got the test, he sat there wishing that he would ace the test. He took the test that was supposed to be very hard and he thought that it was easy. He got it back and it was an A+. he was amazed because he had never had a test and aced it before, and this test was probably the hardest one that he had ever taken. He asked all his classmates what they had gotten on the test and they all replied " A C+ or lower. Charlie was very excited that he had gotten a better grade than Chris, who was an A+ student ,and Chris had made a C-.

There was this one kid that Charlie did not like. He wished that something bad would happen to him. The very next day he was out of school. Charlie asked his teacher where he was he said " He is in the hospital with a very deadly disease. It came on him so fast, and none of the doctors have a cure. It is really weird. I have never seen anything like it."

The very next day, Charlie heard that the kid with the deadly disease had died. Charlie was upset about the whole situation. He knew that it was his fault that he had died . So he went to his funeral with sorrow and regret.

He was at home, alone, late one night. All of a sudden the phone rang. He ran down the steps to answer it thinking that it might be his parents. He picked up the phone and he heard the dial tone. He thought to himself "That's weird" and then he went back up to his room thinking no more about it. This happened several more times and he still ignored it. Then all of a sudden the door bell rang. He went down to answer it again thinking that it might be his best friend Jarred. He opened the door and said "Hey Jarred......what's....." but then he noticed that no one was there. He thought to himself "It must be those little kids that live down the street prank calling and ringing the doorbell and running." So he then went back up the stairs to his room, thinking no more of it. Then there was a peck on the window. He was really starting to get kind of scared and curious. He went to the window, opened it and yelled "Get out of here you little kids!!" But still he saw no one. Since it was starting to get really freaky, he decided to go and watch some T.V. He flipped on the T.V. and right then the power went out. He knew that the kids couldn't have done something like that because he didn't have a fuse box. He now realized that the kids couldn't have done any of the other things now, and he was starting to get really scared. He went and got a flash light and he saw red eyes across the room and was coming very fast towards him. He all of a sudden heard a low, creepy, but familiar voice calling " Charlie..........Charlie...........Charlie.....how could you do something like this to me?" Charlie replied "Who are you? What do you want from me? I have no clue what you're talking about." The voice replied "You do know what I'm talking about Charlie Wackaweed."All of a sudden, it jumped out behind the shadows and Charlie saw a beaten, flesh removed, kid that Charlie recognized as the kid that he had wished that something bad would happen to. His eyes were blood red, and the flesh that he had left was purple and blue. Charlie was scared to death. He told the kid that he had never meant for him to be killed or even hurt, but he didn't believe him. The kid replied "Now it is your turn to follow the pain and death that I had suffered through." Then the kid took Charlie out of the house, and tied him up to a tree. The kid then dug a huge hole and then untied Charlie. The ghost said to him," I'm sorry that it has to end this way Charlie, but this is what you have to repay me by doing. Good-Bye Charlie!" Then the kid threw Charlie in the hole and buried him alive.

No one really knew what had happened to Charlie Wackaweed. Until one day a clipping all of a sudden appeared in the newspaper telling what had happened and who had actually killed the kid that Charlie didn't like. I am telling you now, be careful what you wish for because it just might come true.

[Acid Tabs]

I love writing horror stories. <3
I think I just might join... hmm...

[Zephyr Whisper]

Nothing scares you? Lucky stare
Books don't really scare me, but I have to avoid scary movies and tv shows at all costs. It's like, even if the original concept didn't bother me it has a way of insinuating itself into my mind and morphing into something that does.
I read the story you have a link to in your profile. I think your writing's pretty good! If I come up with anything I think might scare you a little I'll post it.

[HAPPY b a o]

Boo! 4laugh
I've never really tried to write horror before. I suppose now is as good a time as any to try....I'll try to think of something scary...... sweatdrop My brain hurts......

[The Mysterious Gunslinger]

Can't disturb to hell out of you?

Jeeze. Boring.

[HAPPY b a o]

IGNORE THIS POST! I HAD TO FIX MY STORY, CAUSE THE ORIGINAL VERSION SUCKED. I POSTED THE REVISED VERSION ON PAGE 2!

Hell Hounds

A raven sat in the tree. The tree was the only thing in this barren, empty landscape. Just one lonely, leafless tree, decaying where it stood; with a big black raven perched in the top branch, ominously observing everything below with its beady little eyes. Underneath the tree sat a pale skinned, blue-eyed girl. She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length copper hair, a nervous habit. She shivered, again out of nervous anticipation. It was winter, and it was chilly, but she wore her old college hoody, so she shouldn’t have been cold at all. She was just nervous. She was always nervous. When they were younger, her brother had often teased her, time and time again, that she worried too much. Her hands were clammy and sweaty, her heart beating just a tad too fast, her breath coming just a tad to quick and shallow. She was very uneasy.

The raven cawed and the girl jumped. There was a flutter of wings and feathers and the bird took off into the sky. The girl, having just experience the feeling of her heart jumping into her throat, leaned against the tree to steady herself. She took deep, calming breaths. “Calm down Sylvia.” She muttered to herself.

“Hello.” A male voice came from behind her. Sylvia spun around to see Jared. He was, as always, looking quite handsome, with his expensive Italian suit, and his golden hair in fashionable disarray and his ice blue eyes peering into her soul. They were the kind of eyes that pierced right through you, and froze you from the inside out. They were sharp and interrogating, like a hawk’s. And there was no way you could lie to those eyes. No, they didn’t seem vulnerable, or trusting, but they seemed the kind of eyes held knowledge, and that could see through any facades, and would know instantly if you lied. And Jared was the kind of person that if you deceived him, he would punish you, swiftly, neatly and efficiently, but not without taking the time to make sure it was excruciatingly painful on your part.

“So, you called me here?” Jared said, his voice like a chorus of angels. Funny, isn’t it, how that is exactly what he is not? Yes, Jared was a demon. He had no horns, or bat wings, no spiky little tail; he just looked like any human. Funny isn’t it, how people can seem perfectly normal, and yet they are actually from Hell? Funny, isn’t it, how people you know and maybe even love, aren’t really people at all? Funny, isn’t it? Jared thought so. I fact he often had a chuckle about it as he went on pretending to be a human. Sure, cats and dogs hissed and barked at him, and occasionally a small child would sense something weird and feel uneasy. But no one ever knew what he really was.

That is, no one except his business partners. He worked for the devil. Just like humans did their factories or their law firms or their dentist office. He got a paycheck, just like any other job. He even had a regular 9:00-5:00 schedule. But he loved his job very much, and he often found himself working overtime. Tonight he decided to work late. And so when Sylvia called, he had been the one to answer the phone. “Devil’s Deals Inc. how can I help you?” And Sylvia had told him about how much needed her help. She had told him to meet her by the tree. Jared remembered wondering, what tree, but realized when he arrived that it was obvious. There was only one tree.

“Yes I called you here because I need to make a deal with you.” Sylvia spoke, her voice shaky, but still with more conviction than she felt. She continued “My fiancé, he is very, very ill, and-”

“Let me guess, you want me to make him all better?” Jared rudely interrupted. “How corny. You couldn’t give me anything fun?”

“No, I don’t want you to heal him. He’s in a coma. In his will, I’m his sole beneficiary. And he is very, very rich. So if he dies I get a lot of money. The thing is, since we aren’t actually married, I don’t have permission to pull the plug, and end his suffering and his heartache. And that b***h mom of his refuses to let him die! I mean he’s just a vegetable now. His brain is like soup, although it wasn’t much more than that when he was alive either. I want you to kill him. I want you to make his heart stop beating. Then, it will end all his suffering. Also, I’ll get a lot of money.” Sylvia grinned.

“Okay, simple enough. Fun too. Of course you know, in ten years, we will have to come for you.” Jared reminded her.

“I don’t mind. Ten years is very far away.”

“Well of course, you know we have to seal our deal with a kiss.”

“Fine by me.” She leaned in and kissed him. And it wasn’t just a peck on the cheek. It was passionate, on the lips. When they were done she told him, “Wow, you’re a great kisser. Nothing like my idiot fiancé.”

“I get a lot of practice in my line of work.” The demon grinned…

Nine Years, Eleven Months, Three Weeks, and Six Days Later

Sylvia woke up, dreading anticipation in the pit of her stomach. It had been that way for the past month. Today was the day. The day her lavish, spoiled lifestyle would end. The day her current husband would become a widower. The day when she would go to Hell. She could already hear the dogs in the distance, the Hell Hounds. She heard their eerie howls, when no one else could. But she didn’t want to die. She loved her life, loved her husband, loved her house and, more than anything, she loved her money. She didn’t want to go to Hell, to leave this life behind. But deals with a demon, they cannot be broken. Even if she ran, they would find her. She had no choice; she was going to burn in Hell.

She could already feel the flames licking at her feet, like sharp tongues. Was it reality, or was it imagination? Was she going insane? She must have been, that one night. She had said that ten years was a long time. She must have been crazy, for ten years had gone by, so fast. Greed and impatience, that would be her death. It wouldn’t be the Hell hounds that killed her, it would be her greed.

Fear crept up on her, and old friend reacquainting itself. It was not nervousness, or dread. It was pure fear. She was going to die. It was inevitable. She said goodbye to everyone, though none of them new it was forever. She even called those who lived far away, even her old friends from high school, just to say hello, though it was not the hello that was important to her, but the goodbye. And finally, she couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to.

She locked herself in the bathroom. She sunk down to the floor, biting her nails. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times. She heard the howls. They were getting closer. Before long, she heard barking and scrabbling at the door. She heard the hound rake its claws down the white door.

Fear. It filled her. No room for sadness or regret. Just raw, torturous fear. Her inevitable demise loomed over her like a dark cloud on a rainy day. She shut her eyes and rocked back and forth, muttering “O God. O God. O God! O GOD! O GOD! O GOD!” She was never much for prayers, but if there was ever a time for praying, it would be now. She didn’t know any prayers, so she made up her own. Really it was more of a chant. A sudden breeze and fowl odor made her stop muttering and open her eyes. The door was off its hinges and in pieces. And the breeze had been the exhale of a giant black dog.

“O GOD!!!!!!!!” she yelled. She screamed and screamed as the great black beast, almost the size of a bear, lunged for her throat. Her scream became a bloody gargle as the dog bit her throat. Then it proceeded to devour her alive.

[HAPPY b a o]

Did I scare you? Somewhat? Slightly? At all? Even vaguely? Did I even manage to give you a slight bit of adrenaline?

[Tofshnogin]

Good evening.
My story may not scare you, but you'll find it amusing regardless.

It's title? Well, I like to call it...

The Hotel of Bereavement.


To he, they were a couple eggs,
Tossed around his head at will.
Torment the eggs to cry and beg,
Till one may have it’s soft yolk spill.

It was a dark, and stormy night, yet not a crack of lightning struck. Not a rumble of thunder, nor howl of wind. The sky was blackened by the shrouding clouds that hung over the old hotel like a dark omen. In the bleak shadows, a light-blue convertible was parked along a worn gravel road which extended off to the dark, dreary woods on either end. The road swung by the battered hotel almost reluctantly; merely touching the dirt path to the hotel before swinging away to retreat within the line of long-dead willows. Surrounding the hotel was a yard of gray thistles, and bald bluffs, but all was hidden beneath the sheet of darkness cast by the storm clouds. The only sign of light came from the windows of the hotel’s lobby, where two ambitious tourists were awaiting their anticipated service.

Dave Crobars, a large man of thirty-six stood nearly seven feet tall at the empty receptionist’s desk. A thick black beard clung to his chin. His fist came down smartly on the service bell, whose shrill tone called out through every hall in the three-story hotel. Beckoning. Sweat sparkled between Dave’s comb-over, and ran down his flannel shirt as he readjusted his suspensors. Still no answer came.

“Honey,” the voice of Carolyn Hitchhiker echoed from one of the dusty lounge chairs that lined the lobby. “Honey, quit wastin’ the bell, will ya? I get the feelin’ they ain’t home.” She stretched her long legs out in front of her, which were in full view due to her exaggeratedly short britches. Four inch sandals buckled over her elegant feet, and a highly suggestive top publicly announced her big, round belly button. She had an arguably large nose, and on her left cheek was a false beauty mark. As Carolyn brushed back her strawberry-blond hair, she leaned back in the black lounge chair, bored out of her usually vacant mind.

“...Mmm.” Dave grunted, turning from the desk. He glanced around quickly. A chandelier hung from the high ceiling, housing nine white dripping candles that lit the lobby with a dim, repetitive flicker. Whoever lit them must have been around somewhere... but his current vicinity revealed no one. Sighing, he started for the hall in the back, motioning to Carolyn to follow.

She refused. “Uh uh. T’ain’ no way you gonna find no one in this here spooky place.”

“Well,” Dave raised his brown eye’s brows in helplessness. “You have a better idea?” His voice was soft, and deep as his long black beard.

Carolyn stood gracefully, and put her left hand on her bare waist. Then she reached for the front door. “We just go out this lil’ ol’ door, an’-” The moment she laid her right hand on the brass knob, the polished willow door flung open in a howling wind that it knocked Carolyn off her heels, and tore at her clothes. Papers from the receptionist’s desk flew into the air. The candles went out, leaving them in complete darkness. Carolyn screamed. As she tried to sit up, she looked outside the door frame where the wind howled from. Grimacing amongst the clouds, she saw a face with a large nose, and a beauty mark on it’s cheek. It flashed briefly, and was gone, leaving only a distant crack of thunder. Carolyn sat frozen in shock as the wind flew back her hair. Then, without warning, a huge figure stepped in front of her, towering above with menacing height. Faceless. Merciless. It held an ax. She screamed again.

There came a loud clunk, and gradually, the candles came back on.

Dave turned around from the front door, which was now closed shut with his wood ax propped against it. Carolyn lay on her back. Her eyes were big and watery enough to swim in, and her hair was an electritian’s nightmare. “Oh god,” she whispered. “It was only you...” He frowned, glanced up at the chandelier, and scratched his beard. The candles glowed back, strong as ever before. “Hon,” Carolyn held out her arm. “Help me on my feet, won’ you? Think I lost my balance in the wind.” Dave deliberately stepped over her, striding towards the hallway. She sighed and got up herself, briskly dusting off her back seat. As he rounded the left corner, Carolyn made after Dave in a sort of girlish trot.

The hall was dark, as it ran against the lobby and had no lit candles. Dave found a torch on the wall, yanked it off, and briskly lit it. The torch burned beautifully, casting long shadows that stretched the whole hallway. He was careful not to let it get too close to his beard. When Carolyn caught up, her hair was still a mess. “Was you thinkin’ about leavin’ me behind?” She inquired threateningly.

Dave grunted, rolling his eyes. Women. He’d had less trouble cutting down a full grown sequoia. He met Carolyn in a pub just down the road, and ever since she opened her mouth, Dave had decided he didn’t like her. He did, however, like her light-blue convertible.

They continued down a long, elaborate hall. Lined with webs and paintings of various vacant vases. Every nine steps they came to an oak door. Each was held firmly shut, and were marked with dusty, copper numbers above the frame. Seven came first... eight... nine... ten.... eleven... A spider web spread abroad the hallway, housing a big arachnid nearly three inches long. Dave brought his torch to the spider without a hesitation. It curled up and died on the floor, as it’s web burned away.

Carolyn just noticed the spider, and stepped back in alarm. Her neck felt something cling to it. Silky and sticky. She turned and faced another web, it’s keeper half a foot wide. She gasped as it adjusted it’s long legs, and backed into a third web. Shrieking in agony, Carolyn felt something large crawl down her back. She stepped forward, but came to the web with the six-inch spider. Between the two webs came a dozen more, with smaller spiders that gnashed their feeders. She felt web against the top of her head, and below found she had webs between her legs. Silk pressed up against ever part of her body, with spiders on each web. And thousands of them were crawling on the floor. And thousands were crawling upon the floor. And thousands and thousands were seeping down from the ceiling, and-

Something rammed into her back with a blunt thud. Carolyn opened her eyes. She was curled up on the musty carpet, shuddering in terror. Dave was kicking her spine with his boot to see if she was still alive. When she moved though, he ceased, and turned to continue down the hall. Carolyn stood with difficulty, but anxiety pressed her so as not to be left alone in the dark with the thought of spiders fresh on her mind. “Dave! Wait for me!” She wimpered in a half squeal.

Dave stood in front of a door with finger nail scratchings up and down it’s grain. The number eleven was carved into the wood where the copper number twelve once stood. The door itself was slightly ajar. Carolyn folded her arms across her rounded chest, shivering. She could see her breath in the torch light. Dave looked at her, and widened his eyes for the first time that night. Carolyn’s hair was now even worse, filled with dust and strands of web. Her eyes leaked tears that spread eyeliner all over her face. The false beauty mark on her cheek was dangling on one side. To top it all off, she wore a scowl that could kill a dog. “You left me back there to die!” She yelled, doing all she could to keep from breaking up.

Dave didn’t want any part of this. With a swift kick, he abruptly knocked the door wide open, allowing it to bang against the wall with a deafening thud that echoed down the shadowed hall. Carolyn’s screams sounded muffled but the loud thud continued to ring amongst the webs and paintings that lined the walls, echoing with ominous distortion. Dave took no notice, and stepped broadly into the room, followed closely by Carolyn, clutching his hairy arm. Fear had taken the better of her.

From left to right there was an empty closet, yawning deeply, an oak dresser, a four post bed with the curtains drawn, a lamp on a bed-table, and a large suitcase of luggage. Carolyn whimpered in fear, suggesting they tried another room. “Don’ look like there’s no manager here...” she whispered. Dave walked right up to the gaping closet, and stuck his head inside. He found a dull knife sticking upright from the floor. Besides that, it was a musty old closet with nothing inside. As Dave’s torch entered the closet, the room Carolyn stood in went dark, and she heard a moan come from her right. As the torch returned, the moan stopped, leaving only a four post bed, and a bag of luggage.

Dave then approached the oak dresser. The bed curtains swayed as he pulled each empty drawer out completely, allowing them to drop loudly on the wood floor. Bang! Clunk! Crash! “What’re you doin’!?” Carolyn whispered, half desperate to get his attention. It didn’t work. The drawers all lay on the floor, as if Dave’s reckless search method hadn’t woken them from sleep. In one he found a card. It read, “The Jagged Juggler. Tosses anything with hair! See him juggle cats, dogs, anything garunteed! Call 555-9689 for his service.”

Dave flipped to the back, and found a dried splotch of blood on one corner. He tossed the card aside, and headed straight for the curtains. Carolyn did not wish to see what had made the moaning noise... given she had heard it at all.

As Dave gripped the curtains, she panicked, made a move to stop him, and cowered against the wall instead while hiding her face. Dave stripped the curtains away, and saw something beneath the covers that resembled a body. It moved. He patted it on what seemed to be the shoulder. It squirmed. He threw back the covers.

Carolyn chanced a peek, regretting it immediately. In the bed sat a body. A bare back was exposed to the torch light, along with two arms, and a stubby neck. But no head. The sheets were drenched in blood. A pool of red liquid began pouring from the bottom of the luggage bag. The moan came again, followed by laughter. Then the torch went out.

The sight of such horror lost Carolyn her voice, and in attempt to scream, she uttered inaudible mumbles. A shrill tone called out from far away. Beckoning. It was the lobby bell. She found herself sitting up against the door. It was closed shut, and felt damp and clammy. The bell rang again. Loud and clear, for she had no sight to distract her hearing. Then came footsteps. Heavy, and steady. They made their way slowly across the wooden floor to her.

“Dave?” she whispered, with hardly the strength to do so. “Is... is that y-you hon?” The steps stopped right in front of her. The shrill tone rang again, sounding almost ghostlike in the distance. A hand touched hers. It was colder than the air she was breathing. It felt like a flabby pack of ice water. It gripped her hand firmly, but did it no harm. “Gee Dave, you had me scared half to hell an’ back there.” Carolyn uttered as she allowed the cold hand to lift her back on her feet. “How’s about I warm you up a bit. You feel like an ol’ country ice chest.” She put her arm around his back. The tone came again, this time deformed, as if underwater. Her hand felt bare skin. She moved it up the spine slowly. It was deathly cold. Her fingers ran up a neck, touching something rough... and nothing beyond.

The shrill tone beckoned once more, and outside the wind howled against the shuttered windows. Thunder cracked, and the sound of a car engine starting up in the night echoed off in the wood. All was heard well for Carolyn, and as the cold body brought a dull knife to her throat, she figured out just what had happened. “That b*****d lumberjack stole my car, and ditched me in a room with some dead fella!”

And he lived happily ever after.

[Tofshnogin]

An' while I'm here, I thought I'd give the lass above me some feedback on her story about Hell hounds.
So, Mandaleigh96, I read your story. It's pretty straight forward. Girl deals with the devil, and pays for it. Simple enough. In fact, more than enough; Your story is much too predictable. Give the girl a chance. Make it so that there's a possibility she may survive the hound. If your reader knows she's gonna die, they'll stop thinking. And if they stop thinking, the visual images cease to project into their minds. By the end, the suspense has already expired, and your reader thinks "Well, it's about time the dog got her."

So, give Sylvia a chance, let the reader skeptical on whether she'll get away or not, and THEN let her have it.
Now, here's the tricky part. With more suspense, comes more demand on the climax. You can't just have the dog show up from nowhere after Sylvia's crawled through sewers and hid on the roof to get away. That'd just be a cop out. Try to be clever with your hound's antics. (This is one of the things I have trouble with sometimes. Smart characters must be written by smart people; not just those with access to a thesaurus and encyclopedia.) After all, some of the scariest people in the world today are scary only because they're smart. If your light bulb refuses to blink on, brainstorm. Write every idea down, don't throw any away. Eventually, you may piggyback off a poor idea to find an ingenious solution!

Alright, besides suspense, some of your parts kinda dragged. Your descriptions of Jerad got a bit wordy, and greatly slowed the pace of the story. I suggest abridging 'em down, however if you really want to keep the descriptions, you're going to have to use them somehow. Think of descriptions as laying out materials to construct a... a... diorama. Y'know, a three dimensional picture made out of construction paper. If you lay down fifty shades of green, you're gonna have to find a way to use each one somehow in your finished project. So in writing, lay down details about Jerad's eyes, and you've got to use it, depending on how much you lay being how much you use it. Savvy?

I hope my advice comes in handy...

Oh, and now to point out something I liked.

"Just one lonely, leafless tree, decaying where it stood; with a big black raven perched in the top branch, ominously observing everything below with its beady little eyes."

This sentence is great! Lonely and Leafless are alliterate, as are Big and Black, Ominously and Observing, and Below and Beady, though that one may be a bit of a stretch. Anyways, this was one of my favorite lines. It set the mood fairly well, and gave the story a poetic rhythm.

Thank you for writing this story, Mandaleigh96. If you ever choose to improve it, let me know, I'd be willing to reread it.

[HAPPY b a o]

Thanks Tofshnogin! I love constructive critism! I'm going ton try to improve my story, and I'll re-post it once I fix it. smile