Welcome to Gaia! ::

And I'm reserving another post for more details, including answers to questions and random other stuff.

Opens: NOW
Closes: Um... October 31st, 11:59pm EST SPOOOOOOOKY. Er, I mean SPOOOOOOOKTACULAR.

Here are some uncerts.

X-ray - Jack - Horseman - Spectre - Black Cat - Bat


Satsurashi asks: I was also wondering, as long as the story is written in your own words, does the source matter? Like, if I read it originally in a book somewhere and wrote my own version of it, would that still be considered cool?

I say: Hm... that's a tough call. Let's say that I won't disqualify/frown at folks for putting their own spin on a pre-existing tale, just to be more inclusive. BUT! If I'm torn between two entries, I'll favour the one that shows more originality. This does mean that an interesting/unique spin on an existing tale DOES count as being more original than just re-telling it in your own words. Write it as a poem, do a short illustrated comic, break out ye olde englishe to de-modernize a modern spook tale... y'know, that sort of thing. I like things that make me go hmm.


LittleLilyKitty asks: Does it matter what kind of form the story is? I mean, can it be i.e. a poem? surprised

I say: You can tell it in whatever format you think would be most entertaining! Prose, poetry, a short play... uh, I'm sure there are more ways than that. A limerick! A spooky limerick would be great. Or a haiku. I'm not picky at all, just entertain me. XD

Not trying to be "that" person, but did you notice that on the group image two different SoA are labeled number 5? ^^;

EDIT: I was also wondering, as long as the story is written in your own words, does the source matter? Like, if I read it originally in a book somewhere and wrote my own version of it, would that still be considered cool?

@Satsurashi - How spooky, I tried to see if that number 5 mistake you mentioned was there, but it seems you saw a ghost! GASP.

Whoops, missed your edited question. Hm... that's a tough call. Let's say that I won't disqualify/frown at folks for putting their own spin on a pre-existing tale, just to be more inclusive. BUT! If I'm torn between two entries, I'll favour the one that shows more originality. This does mean that an interesting/unique spin on an existing tale DOES count as being more original than just re-telling it in your own words. Write it as a poem, do a short illustrated comic, break out ye olde englishe to de-modernize a modern spook tale... y'know, that sort of thing. I like things that make me go hmm.

@LittleLilyKitty - You can tell it in whatever format you think would be most entertaining! Prose, poetry, a short play... uh, I'm sure there are more ways than that. A limerick! A spooky limerick would be great. Or a haiku. I'm not picky at all, just entertain me. XD

Preference list: Bat, X-ray, Horseman, Jack-o-lantern, Specter
Entry:
Once there was a girl with curly red hair and freckles. She lived in a house on a street like any other with her parents and her sisters. There had always been something about the house that made Molly uneasy, you see. Sometimes she saw shadows in the halls, sometimes it was a whisper in her ear, or a gust of air in her face.

Of course, Molly did talk to her family about these things, and both of her sisters and her parents didn't find her stories true. So, she bought into their lies about her just imagining things.

With each passing day, Molly found more and more things odd with the house. Sometimes the bathroom door slammed shut while brushing her teeth, locking her in from the outside. Things kept getting worse and worse. One night, while Molly was sleeping, she felt a big pressure on her chest. So much pressure that it knocked the wind out of her and she couldn't cry out to her sister who was sharing the room. She clawed at the sheets and tried to lift up, but the pressure wouldn't let her, and it was spreading down her body, rendering her legs immobile.

It just so happened her father was going to bed right then, and he came to check on his girls. When he looked in the room he noticed someone laying on his youngest daughter and turned on the lies and started to yell for his wife. However, once the lights were on, the figure disappeared and Molly was able to breath.

They moved out quickly after that.
Anything else I may find interesting? Anything at all: Mm, this actually happened to me.
Pick two colours: Blue, white
Pick an animal: Duck!

Preference list: 1; Spectre, ; Black Cat 6; Horseman, 5; X-Ray, 3; Bat, 4; Jack 'o' Lantern
Entry: Whaley House is the most haunted house in the United States. It's over 100 years old, been in multiple movies, and most of all, it's a big tourist location.

Several ghosts haunt the grounds-- men have died here, even while Mr. Whaley was alive, before buying it. And he still roams his home, the house smelling, so faintly, of his cigars. People smell all sorts-- perfume, too, and the garden was once home of Mrs. Whaley often... And some say she tends it to this day.

Perhaps the most Eerie, or malevolent, was Yankee Jim Robinson.

He was a horse theif, although he finally moved to steal a boat, to flee San Diego.. And failed. He was given a head wound with the butt of an old sword, and was in a frazzled mindset during his trail-- attempting to defend himself. Yankee Jim was found Guilty, long before Whaley House was built, and the man was sentenced to hang.

The scaffold was built for a common man of average height, and if he'd been a 'common man of average height' he'd have died quickly... But he didn't. The wagon pulled away and he dropped to the ground, and he hung. A long process that took an hour, as the man strangled to death on his own noose. Among ther Spectators was Whaley.

When the home was built, his daughter reported hearing heavy footsteps of a large man, up and down the stairs, and Yanke Jim walked the home since. Some say you can hear his heavy steps, up and down the stairs, especially at night. Others have seen a tall man in period clothing behind the docents, watching. Perhaps, studying visitors.

But perhaps his cruelest means is when your on the ninth step, under the archway....

In that place, where Yankee Jim hang in a slow, excrutiating death, many have felt choked, suffocated, as a noose closes around their own necks...
Anything else I may find interesting? Anything at all: Whaley House is a real location and Yankee Jim is a real ghost. n_n All events are real. Ain't he a right jerk? But really, Whaley House is a neat place to read about. (Better than my own ghost encounters. ._.;; )
Pick two colours: Black/Purple
Pick an animal: Lion

Preference list: Spectre, X-Ray, Jack-O-Lantern, Horseman, Bat, Black Cat
Entry: The group of creatures, mostly felines, gathered around a glowing geyser pit, almost like campers around a fire. As they all laughed and talked, a lion stepped up onto a rock near the geyser, letting out a roar to silence them all. When everybody turned, he grinned at them in a devilish way, "Are you all ready for a story?" At the chorus of cheers, he sat down and settled, looking around. "Be wary, my friends, as this is a time of year for the haunts of the land to come out. The dead walk amid us, either physically or spiritually. Samedi and Jani'duu work their magics upon the savanna, so you'd best listen and beware, for if you don't... You may greet them at the gates of the heavens."

Grabbing a paw full of leaves, feathers, and bones, he tossed them into the geyser, causing it to hiss and change from an eerie green glow to a bright blue glow. All eyes turned raptly to the lion. "This is a story of long ago, when the animals of the lands are said to have posessed magics of their own, before the gods took the magic away as punishment..."

Break for shimmery video effects to transition to the story!

Like any lion, Maiti had been born a happy cub. He enjoyed life, and played well with his brothers and sisters. This changed when a harsh plague passed through the pride, killing many of the yougn and old alike. Maiti was one of the many claimed.

Or so it seemed.

A strange cheetah passed through the lands not long after the plague, dark in coat and glowing on the limbs and face like the geyser that ran along the south and the west borders of the pride's lands. She seemed unphazed by the dead bodies, and in fact not bothered by the sickness that ran rampant. Her gaze was saddened, though, by the sight of so many dead cubs.

She reached into a cluster of tiny bodies, selecting a cub at random. It was Maiti's body, cold and limp and smelling of the putrid stink of death. The pride was horrified that the cheetah would desecrate the dead in their eternal rest, but she kept a tight grip upon the cub's scruff. Though no match for the lion pride, she would growl at them as she sheltered the cub against her body, before they finally let her be.

Maiti's mother was the first to find out, after the cheetah left. She had been saddened by the death of her whole litter, and was in no mood for the cub that came and tugged upon her ear to play. When she smelled the stink of death, she turned to berate the cub for playing in the dead bodies, for what if it caught the sickness? She was shocked to find one of her cubs, looking up at her with eyes as bright and full of life as ever.

The whole pride was shocked, and the lands were combed for the cheetah. They went far and wide beyond the borders, but not a hair or even pawprint was found. So they returned home to marvel at this cub who'd been dead just days before. He stank of death, but he was alive! His birth name was shed, and he was dubbed Maiti.

All would be well, if that were the end of Maiti's story. He grew into a handsome lion, though not without change. He still stank of death, no matter what he did, but the pride had soon grown accustomed to the smell. His coat, once shades of gray and with many markings, had begun to grow pale as he aged. By the time he was an adult, he looked a ghost. Nobody thought anything of it, until the cheetah returned, with company in tow.

The king stood before the cheetah, staring at her. "Sorceress, you return to us! We must thank you, for saving one of our own, for returning a cub to us... Please, is there any way we may repay you?"

"I come to collect the debt owed to me."

The whole pride whispered, wondering what she meant. The king looked at her in confusion. "What debt would that be?"

She pointed to Maiti, face twisting into a jagged smile. "His soul belongs to me. I am Ni'jamii mizimu, collector of souls." She motioned with a paw. "These four, they are my recent collections. He's lived his life, and it is time to go." Glowing eyes turned to Maiti. "Come to me, child, so we may go home! Your family treated me harshly in the beginning, for helping... And so you come home with me."

Several guards stepped between Maiti and Ni'jamii, on the defense. The cheetah simply gave a sniff, tilting her head. "And here I hoped to do it the easy way..." Gasps and cries began to ring out from the pride, as spectral lions and hyenas began to rise from the ground. The setting sun behind the pride cast a fiery glow upon Ni'jamii and her collected creatures, as well as seemed to cast fire to the half-rotten corpses to rise from the ground. "You should have done this the easy way... Oh, well, your pride's had its time in the light!"

When the dead finally returned to the ground, only Maiti was left from the pride. He backed away, eyes wide with horror. "I won't go with you... Never! You killed my family!"

"But I gave you life back... Come, child... Come to me..."

The pale lion shook his head, before turning and running. Tripping on a rock, he tumbled, before getting up and starting to run. When he looked back, he noticed a pale lump on the ground and stopped. Who was that? He was the only lion in the pride who was ghostly white! When he returned, he saw the blood coming from the skull where it'd cracked open and split on impact.

He was staring at himself, and he screamed in terror.

Ni'jamii walked up, circling him. "Come, child... Let's go home..."

Maiti looked at Ni'jamii, before nodding. Something came over him, a compelling sense to follow her. As the cheetah walked on, the body was left behind in the dark as she led the five collected souls to the geysers, where they stepped in, never to be seen again.

Shimmer back to the 'fireside'!

The animals around the geyser clung to each other, eyes wide. A hyena stuttered, swallowing her fear. "D-did Ni'jamii really exist? Did she really use magic to bring back the dead?"

The lion shrugged, "Who knows. Nobody knows for sure if we were even ever to use magic. But it's best to be careful when you go home tonight... You might run into Ni'jamii, or one of her collected souls come back from beyond..." He grinned, before starting to laugh, a loud and almost psychotic laugh, as he stood and left.
Anything else I may find interesting? Anything at all: I forgot to fill this in before posting initially? xd But I think I was channeling the Are You Afraid of the Dark? thing writing this... Loved that show ~
Pick two colours: Deep gray(Nearly black, but not actually black), bright orange
Pick an animal: Nautilus

Preference list: Horseman, Jack, X-ray, Black Cat, Spectre, Bat
Entry: The girls sat in a crude semicircle, and Harriet was among them. They half-ringed the door with candles burning all around them, casting dancing shadows over the walls and making the features of their faces seem to shift like ghosts. Harriet barely knew these girls - she had only just moved here with her family, and had been invited to this party because her mother was friends with one of theirs. She knew the girls didn’t really like her. She could tell in the way they spoke to her, like she was the butt of some secret joke, always. Her family didn’t have as much money as theirs. Her clothes didn’t look like theirs. Even her accent was different - and she knew they all mocked her privately.

That was why they were doing this, she knew. They wanted to scare her. One of the girls had suggested it as a game, and Harriet agreed only because she felt so alone, and they had offered to include her. But really, she was afraid.

Outside, the night was dark and cloudless, and from the towering windows of the room she could see trees swaying in the darkness, their branches like reaching, clawed fingers raking desperately at the shadowy night. There was no moon, just black nothingness. It chilled her.

“This,” One of the girls said, grinning horridly in the low light, “Is called the Sending. We chant your name in unison, five times over. When we’re finished, we wait. The door will blow open in and the doorway, you will see standing there the man you will one day marry.”

“It really works,” Another girl said, nodding vigorously, “We’ve all done it before.”

“I heard this story,” The last girl went on, her voice low with what Harriet took to be actual trepidation, “Of a girl who did this by herself once. She wanted to see, and she did see. The man who stood in the doorway was a boy she knew in the village, and sure enough, one day they WERE married.”

“But then one day,” Another of the girls continued, picking up the story where the first had left off, “The told the story of it to her husband, how she had sent for him and seen his face. And he said, ‘So YOU’RE the witch who sent me through that night of hell!’ And he stormed out, just like that, and she was so sorry for what she’d done that she hung herself the very next day.”

Harriet shivered. If their goal was to see her scared, they were succeeding. She tried to put on a brave face.

“Let’s just do this,” She said, smiling weakly, “I want to see already.”

“Oh, you will,” the first girl agreed, and Harriet’s heart quailed, because she didn’t want to at all. But she also didn’t want to run away.

The girls lifted their voices and began chanting Harriet’s name. The candles glowed around them, the only light in the darkened room, and Harriet didn’t dare shut her eyes even though she was terrified. Five times over they all said her name, and after the last they fell silent. No one was smiling now. Harriet saw they were deathly serious, and all eyes were on the door.

Outside, the wind howled, and Harriet thought she heard - but that was crazy, right? - the howl of something that wasn’t wind at all, but alive.

The door blew open without warning, slamming against the wall and hitting the girls with the icy air from outside. A figure stood in the doorway, one they all could see, and though the moonless night outside was dark, the figure before them was darker still, an absence of light so powerful that Harriet’s eyes seemed to drown in it. Then the wind turned, and just like that, it disappeared. It lasted only a second, and after that the wind died and was still.

One of the girls got up and shut the door, and then she turned on the lights. The others patted Harriet on the back, congratulating her and telling her how brave she was, that they had been so scared when they did it but she didn’t even scream. Someone suggested they watch a movie together, but Harriet heard none of it. Because she’d seen the face of the man in the doorway - they all had. And all the girls knew what it meant, which was why they were now being so kind to her. They knew that the man with no face wasn’t a man at all, but a shadow who foretold of death.

Death would be the only bridegroom Harriet would ever know.

Anything else I may find interesting? Anything at all: It's important that everyone sees this once. And you should totally do this to the next person you color a custom for. XD
Pick two colours: Black and Purple
Pick an animal: Spider!