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Preference list: Black Cat, Horseman, X-ray, Critter (I like surprises!), Spectre, Bat, Jack’O’Lanturn
Entry:

I don’t remember a time without him anymore. Oh, sure, I know there must have been, I have a vague recollection, a dreadful, horrible sensation lingering on, of what it is like to be all alone and unprotected. And so I know that, once, I must have been alone because aloneness frightens me, it makes me vulnerable. It frightens me more than the meanness and the hurtness that company brings sometimes. Because at least I am not alone then, right?

Sitting here, my shoulders hunched as I shudder in the bone-biting cold that only comes after They’ve punished me for something They have decided I’ve done, I wish he would come soon. He always comes, you see. When I need him to, when I need someone to save me. He always comes. But why is he taking so long this time? Maybe it’s because I am not sure I want him to come, not sure I want to leave Them. I’ve been with Them for a while now, and They were very good company…at the beginning. I knew I was worthless, after all, Everyone said I was. Everyone said it, because a battered scrap of an orphan like me could never possibly be worth anything. And it hurt, when Everyone such things, it hurt even if they were true and it made me wish he would come and tell Them to stop saying things like that because I didn’t like it when They said things that made my insides hurt like this.

My insides hurt now. My insides always hurt worse then my outsides, no matter what They’ve done to me. I sniffle and whimper, licking my flanks to try to soothe the hurts outside because those are the only hurtings that I can touch. I need him to come to help me make my insides stop hurting, because They want me to come back now and do more of the things for them and I don’t want to do the things because sometimes the things make my insides feel funny. Not the laughing and happy funny, the sort of funny when you’ve eaten something Not Good and your tummy is going to empty itself. Only with the things it never does, because I haven’t actually eaten something Not Good, I just feel like I have and I wish he would come and tell Them not to ask me to do the things anymore because it makes my insides feel funny.

I really wish he would come and take me away from Them.

It’s just that I’ve been with Them for so long…I need Them. I don’t know what to do, Everyone knows I don’t know what to do. Everyone says its because my head has gone funny, and I suppose Everyone means in the same way my tummy goes funny when I eat something Not Good because I don’t think my head is laughing. It just hurts sometimes, and sometimes my nose bleeds even though I didn’t bump it or scratch it. But I don’t mind when my nose bleeds, because sometimes it means that he is going to come soon and then he’ll make Them stop making my insides and outsides hurt.

But I don’t know anymore. I think Everyone is right when Everyone says that my head is funny, because sometimes I don’t remember what I was doing and then They have to remind me. But They don’t like it when I need reminding, even though I don’t mean to not know. And then They make my outsides hurt the way my insides do when They tell me I don’t do anything right, and then They leave me alone here like this and I sit and I hurt and I wish he would come and help me. I wish he would tell me what to do, because I don’t understand but I don’t want to do what They want me to do…

“Please come,” I whimper, “Please help me…”

But I don’t hear anything even though I lift my ears and listen hard, and I don’t see anything even though I look and look and look. I sniffle more, my eyes always leak when my insides hurt like this and they make my nose leak too and it feels like the hurting is trying to escape only it doesn’t get better after I am sniffly with leaky eyes. But They get mad sometimes when my eyes leak too much and tell me to Get Over It, but then They never tell me what It is that I need to Get Over, so how could I do what They want?

And now I smell blood again, and looking down I can see that my sniffles are dripping onto my paws and the grass only its gone all red which means my nose is bleeding. Does that mean he heard me? Does that mean he’s coming to take me away from Them, even though They don’t want to let me go? I hope so. Even though They remind me how to keep my tummy from being hungry, and even though They were nice enough to me in the beginning, They are not so nice to me now. They make my insides hurt. I want him to come and make Them let me go, and help make my insides stop hurting and maybe make my head stop hurting because it feels like everything has gone all loud and pounding and it hurts and I wish he would hurry up and come and make it stop…




The sky is dark still, but it is getting brighter and I think it looks pretty like that, even though I can only see it with one eye because the other one is sticky and won’t open and I don’t know why. It scares me at first, but then I look around with my not-sticky eye and I don’t see Them. I don’t see Them, but I can hear him and he is talking to me and he tells me not to worry about Them anymore. They won’t hurt you anymore, he says, and I nod and look down at my fur all matted with blood and the marks that show where my outsides had been hurting. But my outsides don’t really hurt anymore, and the marks have gone back to looking like sort-of sore skin and insides don’t hurt as much now, because he came and They are gone. I know they are gone because after he comes I never see Them again and They never make me hurt anymore.

And we are leaving now, and I am not afraid and I close my eyes and listen to his voice talking about how we will find Someone Else for me to stay with, Someone Nicer who isn’t like Them because They made me hurt. But not anymore. Not anymore.

Because he came last night, and he made all of Them go away, and They won’t come back, not anymore.

Smiling happily to myself, I pad along and watch the sky as the clouds turn a bright red color and even though it is morning and I think I remember going to sleep I am so tired and want to lay down. But I am hungry too, and I don't know where to find something to eat, because my mind keeps forgetting what to do and he tells me that Someone Nice would help me find food, we just need to find them.

It's a lot of walking though, its always a lot of walking before we get to find Someone Else and I don't get to eat before I have to go to sleep that night. We do find a Someone the next day and the Someone seems nice. The Someone shares their food with me and he says that it is okay to stay here for a little while. The Someone asks who I am talking to but I guess they just didn't see him before he said goodbye so I just shrug because he likes to be sneaky like that. That is why he always walks right behind me, putting his paws just right so we only leave one set of tracks. But I don't explain this to the Someone, because I don't want the Someone to start saying what Everyone says. Because no matter what Everyone says, I know my mind could not have eaten a Not Good thing and so how could it possibly be 'funny'?



Anything else I may find interesting? Anything at all: Lightning keeps plants alive! The intense heat of lightning forces nitrogen in the air to mix with oxygen, forming nitrogen oxides that are soluble in water and fall to the ground in rain. Plants need nitrates to survive, so without lightning, plants might not live. I thought this was bizarrely interesting X3
Pick two colours: White and Orange
Pick an animal: Husky (dog)

Preference list: Jack O Lantern, Horseman, Random Critter, Flying Fox, X-ray, Spectre, Black Cat
Entry:

Gregory Smith, age 10, really liked Suzie Owens. He liked her so much that when Suzie's older brother (a bully if ever there was one) told him he'd introduce Greg to Suzie if Greg spent the night in the haunted Simmons' house, Greg agreed. Suzie's brother told him he had to provide proof, so Greg brought along his Dad's old polaroid camera, a baseball bat, a flashlight, and his best friend, John.

Now the Simmons house was the scariest place in the whole county, and rightly so, thought Greg and John. It loomed over them like a shadow come to life. Its walls were choked with ivy, and the windows looked down at them without hope. Rumor had it that this was a murder house. Rumor had it that those who had gone in never came out again. Rumor had it you could still hear their screams. Both boys took a deep breath, pried open the library window, and climbed inside.

The library was mostly dark, gray dust, with a few pieces of furniture and some moldy books spread about. Greg took a snapshot, and waited for it to develop while John pointed the flashlight into various corners, hoping nothing would jump out at them.

With the library snapshot safely pocketed, and since nothing had tried to eat them yet, Greg decided to explore the first floor. John clutched the baseball bat and followed close behind. They ventured into the hallway, the coat closet, the dining room, and the kitchen. The floor groaned beneath them, and the doors positively shrieked for want of oil, but aside from the spiders, nothing moved in the house save for the two boys. Greg dutifully took pictures of every room. And that was the first floor. Somewhat emboldened by the lack of anything spooky, the boys decided to climb the stairs and explore the second floor.

But as they climbed, things became quiet. The air ceased to move. Even the floor seemed reluctant to make a noise now. The silence pressed in, and the boys looked at each other and laughed uneasily. Determined to see the night through, Greg readied his camera, and opened the first door he came to in one fast swing. An old, empty bedroom was the only thing behind it. They waited for something, anything to happen, and after a moment, both boys laughed at themselves for being scared. Greg took a picture of the room, and as he was removing the polaroid snapshot, there came a loud chiming from down the hall. John pointed the flashlight in its direction, revealing an old grandfather clock. It was midnight. The chimes seemed to shake the house to its foundations, they were so loud. The boys could only stare wide-eyed at it, too startled to move until the twelfth chime had died away.

John started to speak, but cut off with a yelp as he caught sight of the forgotten photograph in Greg's hand. Greg looked, too, and they both went white as sheets. A terrified glance at the room showed that it was still empty, but in the photograph, the room was filled with corpses. And on the opposite wall, words began to form, drawn by an invisible hand in red, red blood.

'YOU ARE NEXT'

Something squelched on the first floor, and both boys turned to look down the stairs. The flashlight revealed only darkness, as though something were keeping it from penetrating any further. The squelching sound came again, closer. The boys could do nothing but watch. Something moved just beyond the radius of the flashlight, followed by another squelch. It was only when a black something entered the light that the boys both screamed and ran down the hall.

They ran into the farthest room from the staircase, and slammed the door shut behind them. They grabbed a chair sitting next to the door, jammed it beneath the doorknob, and backed away, shaking with fear. They had run into a child's room. Sad, once-colorful wallpaper drooped from the walls, and a few disintegrating toys were huddled into the far corner. Both boys were unable to tear their eyes from the door, and the steadily approaching noise. Greg gripped the Polaroid so tightly he could feel the plastic shift. The light trained on the door shook erratically along with John's hand. They both backed away as the sound reached the door, and stopped.

Oh so slowly, the doorknob turned, the door was pushed, and the chair held it closed. There was quiet for several long moments, and the boys began to hope that it had gone away. And then a furious pounding shook the walls of the room as the thing tried to break into the room. The boys screamed, and Greg accidentally pressed the button on his camera. The assault halted instantly with the click-whirr of the polaroid. Both boys ceased screaming, but watched the door, fully expecting the banging to begin again any second.

A snapshot dropped out of the camera onto the floor, hardly noticed by the boys until they heard the unmistakable squelching noise again. But not outside the door. The sound was right at their feet! Looking down, wide eyed, they watched as a picture of the door, the open door, developed. Darkness flooded through the doorway, spilling out of the snapshot and puddling around the boys' feet. They couldn't move. Trembling in terror they watched as the thing heaved itself into view, reached out, and began to pull itself out of the photograph.

Two days later, the flashlight was found in the front yard of the Simmons house. Greg and John were never seen again.

Anything else I may find interesting? Anything at all: Ummm...

Pick two colours: Dark teal, bright orange
Pick an animal: Jesus Christ! It's a lion! Get in the car!

Preference list: Black Cat > Horseman > Creature > XRay > Ghost > Bat > Jack
Entry:

Glowing eyes.

They're watching.

They are waiting.

Silent, stalking, prowling, growling.

Waiting...

Waiting for the opportune moment.

They slipped like shadows through the night. Seamlessly blending in, save for two features. Marks of power that ran along their backs, around their chests, and over their legs...and their eyes. Glowing infernals, blazing brightly when focused on a target.

Focused on you.

See them slink fowards?

See them crouch low and prepare...

Demonic fiends that prowl the night. Do they hunger for flesh? For souls? The reality of it is, they were sent. They have a keen intelligence, albiet a pack intelligence. They look to no one save for the one that enslaved their souls. And they are rarely sent for anything trivial. If you see them...they've been sent for you.

No escape.

They're ready.

They are racing.

Shriek, clawing, gnawing, ripping, tearing.

They'll take you back, and you'll become one of them...

...or worse.


Anything else I may find interesting? Anything at all: Called Darrokken; from C. L. Wilson's novels, but with my own twist. They were never really given much spotlight time.
Pick two colours: Cream and Dark-ish Chocolate Brown.
Pick an animal: ...uhhh...lessee. Tiger.

Why the edit? Fixing my code. it was [/aize].

Preference list: 5 - X-Ray, 1 - Spectre, 2 - Black Cat, 4 - Jack o'lantern, 3 - Bat, 6 - Horseman
Entry:
Author's can often have an overactive imagination, it allows them to write realistic tales. They create characters and situations that drive their readers into another world, a world where every written word is possible, every character a real entity. It was on a dark night with rain clouds above that Lousia Strella sat down to write. Usually she wrote fantasy and mystery, but tonight she had decided to try her hand at a new genre. Tonight Lousia would write a horror story, she was curious if she could manage something frightful.

She sat down at her computer and began to type, at first she was setting the scene, little details made the fictional house come to life. She paused a moment as she heard a strange sound, a clack, clack, clack. Slowly she rose from her seat and out of the room to see what it was.

"It must just be a loose shutter..." She murmured to herself. Certainly it was in her window blinds being flapped about by the wind. She closed the window and returned to her work.

Page after page she wrote and brought fresh new characters to life, giving them all the minute details that would make them seem real. A desperate heroine struggling to overcome her fears...what was that noise? A soft 'gloop', 'gloop', 'gloop' sound that echoed in her ears and distracted her from writing on. She felt her heart speed up a little and slowly moved out of her seat to investigate. Her hand gave a little tremor and she noticed how dark it had become. She found the sink dripping creating the strange echo and quickly turned it off. Then she walked around her modest home and turned on the lights.

Finally she sat back down, but now her imagination was running away with her, the rain started to come down in that same instant. She shivered and shivered until it felt as though she would fall to shivering bits right there from nerves and cold. Hastily she found and put on a sweater but her trembling would not cease.

She began to type again but she felt so terribly alone, frightening thoughts ran through her head at first rational and then increasingly less so. What if someone broke into the house? What if she saw a ghost? What if she was possessed? What if her cat became possessed? She promised herself she would cease this endless train of gruesome thoughts and went back to work.

Then she heard it behind her the slow creak of an opening door, her bedroom door. Her heart went wild, she threw herself from her computer the story almost fully written but only lacking it's horrific end. A pair of glowing green eyes bobbed into the room and a sweet cat let out a soft 'mew'.

The author screamed, and screamed, and then the house was silent.

When they broke down the door and searched the house they found her. She was curled up under the bed her arms wrapped tight around herself and knees drawn up. When they looked at her computer they saw the story she had written and realized, she had scared herself to death.

Anything else I may find interesting? Anything at all: This would have been a more fleshed out tale but I ws home alone and started to scare myself XD
Pick two colours: Black & White
Pick an animal: Zebra!

Preference list: 6 - Horseman, 3 - Bat, 5 - X-Ray, 2 - Black Cat, 4 - Jack-O-Lantern, 1 - Spectre
Entry:

Harvest

In the time of the harvest, a small town like many others prepared for their festival. They decorated in the colors of autumn: red, gold, and orange. On the big night they would drink and dance and laugh ... but although they were fairly modern, they still remembered the old ways, and the old things that moved in the dark on Hallow's Eve.

There was a boy in this town, almost old enough to be counted a man. He no longer cared for the bright colors, the food and music and pageant. He didn't care for the stuffies or lanterns. Like most boys his age he was interested in a certain girl. He intended to ask her to dance with him at the festival, but he was certain she would refuse him. She was much too lovely and refined for him.

The night before the festival, the boy went walking in the corn fields. Even so close to the harvest, he could hear the soft creaking and rustling as the corn grew. It seemed almost like a whisper. "I wish I could have her," he said. The corn did not reply, but a ripple passed through the stalks as though a light gust of wind had blown. "I want her," he said petulantly.

"More than anything?"

The voice that answered was soft and strange, like an echo. The boy whirled around, startled and embarrassed. He was not frightened. He had never seen anyone threatening in that small town. A woman stood behind him, tall and pale as the moon. Her hair was vibrant, red and brown and gold. It made a strangely unpleasant rustling sound, like dried husks brushing against one another. A dead sound.

The boy felt caught in a dream. This strange woman was no one he knew. She didn't even seem real. Without thinking, he replied. "More than anything," he repeated after her.

As the woman smiled, the shadows moved on her face strangely, giving her a vulpine appearance. And then she was gone, as though she had never been.

On the night of the harvest festival the girl did indeed say yes. She danced with the boy, her cheeks flushed prettily and her eyes laughing. Afterwards they went together into the secret dark and celebrated in their own way, and the boy had never felt more happy or victorious.

In that small town life moved on and moved on quickly. A few years after the festival the boy and girl were man and wife. They farmed a small stead, growing their own bounty of corn and pumpkins. After they had been married for a few years with no children, at last one was conceived in the new corn. It was born just before the harvest, beautiful and round as a pumpkin itself.

The night before the festival the man heard a strange rustling outside his window, like the wind through dead leaves. He went outside, almost sleepwalking, and saw the woman he had seen those years before.

"Give it to me," She said softly, smiling her sweet greedy smile.

He shook his head. He knew, somehow. He knew.

She reached out her pale arms, and he saw that they were mottled with russet blotches and green veins. "Give me my harvest." Her lips had drawn back from sharp white foxy teeth.

Shaking his head mutely, the farmer drew back into his house. He did not go to the harvest festival that year.

The baby grew healthy and strong through the next year, but at the start of summer, after the farmer had sown the pumpkin seeds, the child began to weaken. He grew pale, his color draining away slowly as the summer stretched on. By the time autumn came around the child was thin and terribly weak. The town's doctor diagnosed him with a disease of the blood, but what, he could not say.

Though he was badly worried about his son, the farmer prepared for the harvest festival with the rest of the town, taking his prize pumpkins to the town hall. They had grown massive that year, huge and beautiful. They were something to be proud of. On Hallow's Eve the farmer and his wife went to the town hall to dance as they had the first time, leaving the baby to sleep. He would be all right for just one dance. His wife's cheeks were flushed just as they were the first time they danced, only on this night she looked feverish instead of pretty. After the dance they stayed just a moment, to watch as the town's children cut into one of the farmer's prize pumpkins, making a last-minute lantern to ward off the night.

The pulp and seeds that spilled out were rich and red with blood. The farmer's face went white with shock, as white as his poor drained son. He fled the town hall and ran back to his house, throwing open the door to his son's bedroom.

The crib lay empty, and as the farmer stood over it disbelieving, he heard the dry rustle of the corn outside, growing and dying all at once.

Anything else I may find interesting? Anything at all: If you get lost in the Everglades, you can survive for a little while eating sawgrass. It's edible near the base of the stalks/blades.

Pick two colours: Orange and yellow. biggrin

Pick an animal: Red fox!

Preference list: Random creature! Horsewoman, X-ray, Black cat, Jack-o-lantern, Spectre, Bat
Entry:
THE DESERT
Harsh. Unforgiving. Dry. Hot and then cold. (yes and then no)
Most spooky stories take place in a haunted house or a dark wooded area.
Well this isn't a spooky story.
It's real.

In the desert- any desert- there are creatures. Gaunt and hollow-looking, their colors range from a sick tawny color to sandstone or ash or light grey. Difficult to see apart from when they move (and even then it's still hard).

And every last one of them has pale blue eyes.
They're all blind.

But they are not to be underestimated.

These monsters are the most efficient desert-dwellers. The best hunters. In the light you might think you saw one at a distance. A shift in the colors of the sand. Upon further inspection, was it just a trick of your imagination? Just the wind blowing the dunes? Hmmm… You can never be sure…

And at night it's impossible to tell. The air and lands grow cold as the darkness falls. They seem to come on the cold, night desert winds or to emerge from the sand itself.


The only way to determine their presence is by the drowning feeling you have…


But by then it's too late.


While you suffer and ghasp, they come and skin you alive, flaying you to wear your skin as a trophy.



The legend is that centuries ago there was a horse. It loyally carried goods and its master through the sands and dunes, until one day they were caught in a sandstorm. The dust subsided as the sun fell down, and both rider and mount had survived. The night closed in and the rider began to shiver. He glanced at his trusty mount that lay on its side, debating, waiting… But it grew too cold. He figured the horse had died from inhaling the sand and began to skin it. But the horse was still alive. It felt everything- until it passed out from the pain. And then died from the blood loss. The rider just did what he had to do to survive is all. But the spirit roamed the desert, and manifested itself as this new breed of creature.

Anything else I may find interesting? Anything at all:
This was difficult
But I kind of had some fun
Haha okay bye

Given the random win, the SoA would live out the tale of the creature, blind, skinning, and roaming the desert. Given one of the others well then lol.
Pick two colours: Icy blue, anything from tan to grey/silver.
Pick an animal: Coyote

Preference list: Jack - Horseman - Spectre - Black Cat - X-ray - Bat

Entry:
The Basement

Ten, bright eyed, eager, halloween costume donned children took the steps two and three at a time down into the basement. Their buckets filled with candy, of a sizes, flavors, and colors. They were done for the night and after several games, cake, ice cream and prizes it was time to hear a scary story.

Each quickly grabbed a pillowed stacked in the bottom at the bottom of the steps and filed into the cement floored basement looking up at the exposed pipes in the ceiling, around at sheet covered walls and squeeling about how spooky it all seemed.

They huddles atop pillows, keeping little bottoms off the cold bare floor. They hardly noticed their parents descending the steps and filing in behind the, but they did notice when the lights went off one at a time until they sat in total darkness.

A flash of light illuminated a face a the front of the room, the loud boo that echoed through the room startling the children, though laughter rang out moments later.

"Shall we begin," asked the voice of the party patron.

Ten heads nodded eager for the story to begin.

"Very well then," started the woman, he face grinning, twisted in the light making the children's eyes go wide.

"As you all know, we did not always live in this house. Before we moved here there was another family that lived here. The had to lovely small children and they ran a daycare upstairs.

They seemed like a very nice couple and all of they neighbor's loved them. Many of the children in the area could be seen spending countless hours in the neighboorhood.

They especially loved halloween and would often set up a haunted house for the neighbors in the basement. Which was something everyone, truly enjoyed. That was until three years ago.

Three years ago the family young son became very ill and one day he stopped being seen at all. The neighbors were worried, but the couple insisted all was fine, although the wife appeared to be losing countless pounds and looking as though she hadn't slept in ages.

The father was only seen when he came and went from work, but rarely any other time. So it came a surprise to the neighborhood when all the children were invited to the annual halloween party and haunted house. They were all eager to attend hoping it meant the family was doing better.

Halloween night the families came all dressed up and ready for a good time, but it was not to be. While they had thouroughly enjoyed the night it escaped no one's notice that the father had not been seen all night. They asked where he was and the wife responded that he had gone to run a few errands and he would be back, so the party continued.

A few of the braver older children slipped into the basement for a look at the haunted house, but seemed not to come back up which no one seemed to question.

Finally one of the parents slipped off and headed down into the basment and what I saw changed my life forever. I screamed seeing the baby that hung shackled to the wall, a young boy tied up in the corner, his head lying in front of him looking up at me with haunted eyes. Childrens limbs were strune around and it was like a scene straight out of a nightmare.

I turned only to see a man standing behind me, blood running down his face and cloak. His hood was up and I could hardly see who he was, but I did see the knife he held that dripped with blood. I dashed beneath his arms as he tried to grab me running up the steps as fast as I could manage.

He grabbed my leg and tried to pull me bad down the step, but I kick him in the face, a satisfying crush ringing up past my ears. I dashed up the last few steps and bolted into the living room.

'Someone call the police', I screamed, 'he's killed them all.'

The parents started to notice their missing children and panicked heading down into the basement, to two sad facts. Their children were dead and the mad-man was missing.

I never saw or heard from him again, but when my husband insisted we buy this house I could hardly deny him.

I just hope the mad-man is no longer around. I hope that he does not come back to exact his revenge on me."

The lights in the basement came on to reveal terrified looking children huddle close together and irritated parents, who hardly believed the tale.

"Bedtime all," said the woman ushering the parents up the stairs, "we will be back down in a second with you sleeping bags."

The upstair door shut and looked with a click, but the laundry door slowly crept open revealing a man cloaked skeletal face figure weilding a bloody knife.

"Hello dearie," she hissed out. Time to play.

Screams could be heard as the children scrambled up the steps banging on the now locked basement door, crying for the freedom, to be saved from the madman.

It would not be so tonight, as the parents toast to a job well done left them lying dead in the kitchenette.

Anything else I may find interesting? Anything at all: The story was a story and the telling of a story put together, my parents told the story years ago in their at the time unfinished basement to the halloween party kids, most cried like babies at the end.

Obviously no one died, but in the original story people died and of course our parents did not leave us alone in the basement but we did sleep down their.
Pick two colours:Green and silver
Pick an animal: Angler fish

Congratulations, winners!

And thank you, Slander! <3