Halloween Short Story Contest 2017

Discussion in 'Contests' started by Miss Wood, Oct 5, 2017.

?

Vote for your favorite submission!

Poll closed Nov 1, 2017.
  1. Entry 1

    1 vote(s)
    9.1%
  2. Entry 2

    2 vote(s)
    18.2%
  3. Entry 3

    4 vote(s)
    36.4%
  4. Entry 4

    4 vote(s)
    36.4%
  1. Miss Wood

    Miss Wood La Dama Staff Member

    Messages:
    100,000,030
    Likes Received:
    5,017
    @Registered


    [​IMG]

    A Spooky hello to everyone. It's time for a creepy short story contest in honor of Halloween, which is right around the corner! Hope you've all got your best horror stories at the ready!

    For this month's contest, we want you writers to come up with a short story based on your choice of one of four images that we will provide. Use your unending creativity to write a Story centered around the image and make sure to try to give us the heebie-jeebies!

    Here are the images you will be choosing from

    [​IMG]
    [​IMG]
    [​IMG]
    [​IMG]

    The titles of each image should in no way affect what you write, but if it inspires you then by all means run with it!

    Let's go over the rules!

    -Rules-

    - Keep it relatively short with a minimum of 500 words
    - 1 post per person
    - Entries will be accepted until Midnight EST October 27, 2017.
    - Entries should be sent to Miss Wood
    - Entries will be anonymous and will be voted on by a poll by the community
    - Voting will begin October 28, 2017 and end October 31, 2017. A winner will be announced November 1st!

    [​IMG]

    The winner will receive a custom badge for scaring the color out of our hair. You will also be asked to buy us hair dye to fix it. We hope to see many entries for this one! Good luck to everyone!

    ~Happy Writing
     
    Junnabee, Cece and Eternal Love like this.
  2. Miss Wood

    Miss Wood La Dama Staff Member

    Messages:
    100,000,030
    Likes Received:
    5,017
    Mistake

    You've made a huge mistake and now they're after you. No matter how much you run, they will find you. You have to keep moving. They move slowly but if you stop for too long they will catch up to you. 'How did it come to this?' You wonder. You can't seem to remember how this terror started. Then, it begins to play. You look over at the ornate music box that rests on your bedside table.

    [​IMG]

    Your heart leaps into your throat as panic sets in. The box only ever opens and plays when they are near, like a kidnapped creature crying out for its rescuers.


    You, frantically begin to pack up your things, desperate to get the hell out of here. You hadn't expected them to catch up to you this quickly. You've tried ditching the box, destroying it, but it always comes back. They've found you.


    You look out of the hotel window and see a horrific sight.

    [​IMG]

    You've seen them many times by now but the chills that go down your spine never fade. You rush out of the hotel, not bothering to take the music box. It will find you anyway. As you run to your car you remember how this began.


    You were working with a friend of yours, an archeologist, to study a strange tomb that was found beneath an old 19th century building during renovations. No one in the surrounding area knew anything about the mysterious tomb. You recall going inside and finding it empty. It was empty, but not silent. Both you, and your friend were perplexed to find the music box on a pedestal. It was playing it's eerie tune. Your friend took it out of the tomb.


    Then the box appeared on your doorstep just after you hear about the gruesome death of your friend. His torso was cut open. All of his organs, including his brain, were missing. At first, you wondered how something so horrifying was possible but when you saw those things outside your window for the first time, you knew.


    You begin to drive, desperate to get away but something stops you from hauling ass out of the parking lot. It's one of the dark figures. Except this one is bigger. It has eyes, deep empty black eyes. It has horns and claws. You look around frantically, seeing the other smaller figures begin to descend. They surround your car. You're trapped.


    The music box begins to play, it's in your passenger seat. You look out the driver side window and the bigger figure is there. You scream as it tears your car door off the car without any effort. The creature, and it's minions, are completely silent. The last thing you hear is the damning song of that infernal music box. The last thing you see is the crowd of horrible dark figures and the awful grin on the leader's face. The last thing you feel is your body being torn apart, silently, without effort.

    [​IMG]


    It’s Thursday and it’s there again.


    To be fair, there’s nothing inheritably important about the fact that it’s Thursday. It happened on the Wednesday that came before it and it happened on the Tuesday before that Wednesday. It hadn’t happened on Monday, but on Monday it had never happened at all. At least, not to you. All the same, It’s Thursday.


    And it’s there.


    Again.


    You don’t have to look up to know that. In some ways, it’s better that you don’t look up to know that. If you look up you have to see it there. You don’t want to. You don’t want to look up. You Can't.


    ...but as a pearl of stark cold sweat beads down your neck you know you have too. You know how the story ends. Of course, you know. You could, understandably, pretend you don’t know. You could pretend its paranoia. You could pretend you just don’t have enough sleep. You could pretend it’s your overactive imagination.


    You could pretend.


    You could pretend you never read that stupid post on Monday. You could act like you hadn’t hung onto the edge of every word of the short story. You could let yourself believe, for a moment, you didn’t know. You didn’t know how the last one who had it got it from a story too. That it waited in the mirrors – in reflections. That it watched, patiently, for when the last one couldn’t take it anymore and raised their eyes. You could pretend you didn’t read the end of the story. That you didn’t know the person had looked up and met there own dead sunken in eyes. That it didn’t look like them, eyes glazed in death and skin bloated and veiny in the afterlife. That it's jaw it'd hang loose and it didn't lean in close to the glass as if waiting to come crawling forth as if it was nothing more than a window left a jar in the summer's heat. That it didn’t look like things to come.


    You could pretend you didn’t know they signed the story off with an apology because soon it would take them because they looked – because they had passed it on, unable to hold its attention any longer. You could pretend you hadn't read it. You could pretend it hadn't noticed that you now know.


    You could pretend you won’t look too.


    You could pretend you’re strong than the last one.


    That you're strong enough.


    You’re not.


    You cry as you lift your eyes and meet its gaze. It grins.


    ...


    It’s Thursday and it’s there again.


    But you won’t be.


    Not for much longer.

    The Way You Look

    Click. Whir. Click. “Hello everyone,” she says into the microphone. “My name is Maddie Truant.”

    A woman stands in front of a bathroom mirror. The sink in front of her is littered with various makeup products, yet the chestnut haired woman makes no move towards any of them, choosing instead to fiddle with an old tape recorder.

    “I am the older twin sister of Michaela Truant. Twenty years ago, my… sister… died when our cruise ship hit that iceberg, when I left her to… get help, and came back to a flooded floor.”

    There is a long pause after that statement as she stares at herself in the mirror. She is visibly shaking at her pallid reflection, and she fumbles to grasp the rim of the sink. She can see her chapped lips move almost of their own accord. Come on. You can do this. You have to do this. There is a heavy feeling in her chest and it almost hurts to speak. Still, a deep, shuddering breath escapes her lips and she manages to finish her sentence.

    “At least… that’s what you all think. My name is actually Michaela. Mickey. The um… the one who died is actually Maddie. Not—“ something is rising, rising up in her chest and she turns from the mirror to cough into her arm. The pain diminishes somewhat, and the brunette takes a deep breath before finishing, “—not me.”

    Michaela scratches at her fingers nervously. “We were wearing matching outfits that day. Those little sailor outfits Mom bought. I thought that it was the coolest thing back then that we looked — we looked so alike. That no one could tell us apart except for us. I was always a little jealous of Maddie. She was a lot better at just about everything, and Mom and Dad liked her better.” Michaela wants to smile at those childish thoughts, but she is so cold. She shivers at the chilly air conditioning in the bathroom. Her muscles were so stiff, and she can barely feel herself picking at the skin around her nails. She clears her throat, then continues, “A lot better. And… I suppose I was a more than just ‘a little’ jealous.” A deep breath follows Michaela’s statement, then it is as if a dam has opened. The rest pours out like water.

    “I locked her in our cabin. I wanted to get out to safety first so that everyone would be happy to see me. I didn’t think that Mom and Dad wanted me to be Maddie so much that they mixed us up. I didn’t think that the water was filling the ship that quickly, and that it wouldn’t be safe for people to go back. It was an accident. When we couldn’t get past the stairs, I didn’t want to tell the truth of what I did. It was an accident. But I don’t think you’ll ever see it my way. I don’t think… Maddie will either.”

    Her pointer finger digs viciously at her opposing thumb. Several layers of skin come off into the sink, and a nail soon follows. Michaela does not yelp, or scream, or even notice. Her murky green eyes never leave the mirror. Something that looks like tears streamed down the side of her cheeks.

    “Mom… Dad… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I just wanted… I wanted you to love me like you did Maddie,” she gasps out. Her hand touches her reflection with her right hand. Blood comes away on the mirror wherever her skin touches. “We looked the same… why was she the favorite? And Joey… honey, I’m sorry. How could I ever tell you that the woman you loved was a lie?” Michaela sobs into the microphone.

    Michaela feels the same unpleasantness in her chest and throat, and she braces herself as she coughs. She coughs, and coughs, and coughs until what seems like gallons of ice cold water splash to join the red blood and skin in the sink. She feels as if there is more, but her lungs are burning too much and her head leans exhaustedly against the faucet and she just can’t keep up a steady stream of ai. Limp strands of hair fall—or float?—in front of her face. Her lips move frozenly.

    “Maddie, p-please… d-don’t do this. It was an accident,” Michaela stammers, over and over. Something tells her to look into the mirror. “I’m telling everyone t-the truth now, s-see?”
    [​IMG]

    It’s too late.

    No. No no no. She cannot bring herself to look into the mirror. She doesn’t want to. She won’t.

    Look.

    She shakes her head weakly, and barely feels a thing as her skin gives away and her head splits open against the tap. She sees it though. Michaela jerks back, as if the movement would somehow keep the pieces of bone and brain from peeking through grayish-green skin. But it is too much—she can’t stand anymore—and she falls backwards into the dark.

    >>v<<

    A woman lies on the floor of a bathroom. There is no sign of harm to her body, other than light bruises at the back of her head from where she hit the surface. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks at her surroundings. This place… she doesn’t recognize it. And was that… makeup? Her eyes light up with a childish sort of glee at the cosmetics.

    But something stops her, and it comes in the form of a small, plastic manila box.

    She looks at the tape recorder in her hand. There is almost confused expression on her face as she holds the device. It was a tape recorder, she knew that, but what was she doing with this? After some deliberation, she decides to first hit the rewind button, then the play.

    Click. Whir. Click. “Hello everyone. My name is Maddie Truant.”

    The Family

    They chanted loudly in a language I had never heard before, surrounding my car. Quiet at first, but they got louder as they went on. A fire started to rise from beneath my car and flames engulfed it, drowning out any screaming from within as the windows shattered and the inside caught fire. I watched from the edge of the meadow as the sun set and the glow from the fire was the only light source for miles. Mama, papa, and uncle Johnny were gone now, and I was all that was left.

    [​IMG]

    The morning had started out innocently enough. Uncle Johnny stopped by for breakfast, Mama and Papa argued over who made the best pancakes, and I laughed as Mr Whiskers jumped up on the counter to knock over the batter. There would be no pancakes at home, so my bright idea was that we should go to IHOP. We lived on a farm so going anywhere was always a hike, but it was Sunday morning and we had nothing else to do but to spend the day with family.

    When we stepped outside to get in my car, a car I had bought with my own earnings just a few months ago, there were two men standing and waiting beside it. They were clad in black robes and had strange markings on their faces, but the strangest part about them was their eyes. Their eyes were pitch black and their smiles were larger than normal. The taller of the two stepped forward with a grin and looked directly at me.

    “Today is the reckoning. It is upon us. Your beauty will bring forth the Lord we seek.”

    His thin, lanky fingers reached out to be and Papa stepped forward with his shotgun in hand.

    “You both best be leaving.” he pumped the shotgun, more of a bark than a bite. The strange men smiled their strange smiles and nodded before walking away. When we drove past them , they stared right at me.

    We made it to the IHOP in time to miss the lunch rush and ordered our breakfasts. When we were done, we got back into the car only to notice the same sort of strange men just across the street, all staring in our direction. Papa told us to hurry and get in the car, and when we pulled off, they were gone. The drive was fairly quiet up until the car began to make a strange sound. I could believe it considering how new it still was, but still the check engine light came on and the car stopped.

    That was when the men surrounded us. There were a dozen or so men, dressed in robes, smiling at us all. Papa had left the shotgun at home and when he tried to get out, the door wouldn't budge. The car was being pushed off the road by these men. Mama was hysterical, uncle Johnny was angry and trying to comfort Mama. I turned the steering wheel in the direction the men seemed to want me to go. We ended up in a large meadow, right in the middle of it. The men created a circle around the car and started to chant.

    I looked around at Mama, Papa, and uncle Johnny with a large grin and blackened eyes, then I stepped out of the car and moved out of the circle. I kept walking towards the edge of the woods where he was waiting for me. We watched the fire together and listened to them scream. He smiled at me and gently caressed my cheek.

    “Welcome to your new family.”
     
    Mini likes this.
  3. Miss Wood

    Miss Wood La Dama Staff Member

    Messages:
    100,000,030
    Likes Received:
    5,017
    For all members
    Just a few days left to enter!!!
     
  4. katisacat

    katisacat Member

    Messages:
    42
    Likes Received:
    2
    I iz not good at writing scary stuff! Idk how to make it scary! Lol
     
  5. Miss Wood

    Miss Wood La Dama Staff Member

    Messages:
    100,000,030
    Likes Received:
    5,017
    Congratulations to @ceceni for winning the Halloween Short Story Contest (Tied with me but I'll give you more credit ;) ) Below are both first place submissions. And Thank you to @Eternal Love and @Junnabee for your submissions as well! All the stories were awesome!

    Click. Whir. Click. “Hello everyone,” she says into the microphone. “My name is Maddie Truant.”

    A woman stands in front of a bathroom mirror. The sink in front of her is littered with various makeup products, yet the chest-nut haired woman makes no move towards any of them, choosing instead to fiddle with an old tape recorder.

    “I am the older twin sister of Michaela Truant. Twenty years ago, my… sister… died when our cruise ship hit that iceberg, when I left her to… get help, and came back to a flooded floor.”

    There is a long pause after that statement as she stares at herself in the mirror. She is visibly shaking at her pallid reflection, and she fumbles to grasp the rim of the sink. She can see her chapped lips move almost of their own accord. Come on. You can do this. You have to do this. There is a heavy feeling in her chest and it almost hurts to speak. Still, a deep, shuddering breath escapes her lips and she manages to finish her sentence.

    “At least… that’s what you all think. My name is actually Michaela. Mickey. The um… the one who died is actually Maddie. Not—“ something is rising, rising up in her chest and she turns from the mirror to cough into her arm. The pain diminishes somewhat, and the brunette takes a deep breath before finishing, “—not me.”

    Michaela scratches at her fingers nervously. “We were wearing matching outfits that day. Those little sailor outfits Mom bought. I thought that it was the coolest thing back then that we looked — we looked so alike. That no one could tell us apart except for us. I was always a little jealous of Maddie. She was a lot better at just about everything, and Mom and Dad liked her better.” Michaela wants to smile at those childish thoughts, but she is so cold. She shivers at the chilly air conditioning in the bathroom. Her muscles were so stiff, and she can barely feel herself picking at the skin around her nails. She clears her throat, then continues, “A lot better. And… I suppose I was a more than just ‘a little’ jealous.” A deep breath follows Michaela’s statement, then it is as if a dam has opened. The rest pours out like water.

    “I locked her in our cabin. I wanted to get out to safety first so that everyone would be happy to see me. I didn’t think that Mom and Dad wanted me to be Maddie so much that they mixed us up. I didn’t think that the water was filling the ship that quickly, and that it wouldn’t be safe for people to go back. It was an accident. When we couldn’t get past the stairs, I didn’t want to tell the truth of what I did. It was an accident. But I don’t think you’ll ever see it my way. I don’t think… Maddie will either.”

    Her pointer finger digs viciously at her opposing thumb. Several layers of skin come off into the sink, and a nail soon follows. Michaela does not yelp, or scream, or even notice. Her murky green eyes never leave the mirror. Something that looks like tears streams down the side of her cheeks.

    “Mom… Dad… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I just wanted… I wanted you to love me like you did Maddie,” she gasps out. Her hand touches her reflection with her right hand. Blood comes away on the mirror wherever her skin touches. “We looked the same… why was she the favorite? And Joey… honey, I’m sorry. How could I ever tell you that the woman you loved was a lie?” Michaela sobs into the microphone.

    Michaela feels the same unpleasantness in her chest and throat, and she braces herself as she coughs. She coughs, and coughs, and coughs until what seems like gallons of ice cold water splash to join the red blood and skin in the sink. She feels as if there is more, but her lungs are burning too much and her head leans exhaustedly against the faucet and she just can’t keep up a steady stream of ai. Limp strands of hair fall—or float?—in front of her face. Her lips move frozenly.

    “Maddie, p-please… d-don’t do this. It was an accident,” Michaela stammers, over and over. Something tells her to look into the mirror. “I’m telling everyone t-the truth now, s-see?”

    It’s too late.

    No. No no no. She cannot bring herself to look into the mirror. She doesn’t want to. She won’t.

    Look.

    She shakes her head weakly, and barely feels a thing as her skin gives away and her head splits open against the tap. She sees it though. Michaela jerks back, as if the movement would somehow keep the pieces of bone and brain from peeking through grayish-green skin. But it is too much—she can’t stand anymore—and she falls backwards into the dark.

    >>v<<

    A woman lies on the floor of a bathroom. There is no sign of harm to her body, other than light bruises at the back of her head from where she hit the surface. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks at her surroundings. This place… she doesn’t recognize it. And was that… makeup? Her eyes light up with a childish sort of glee at the cosmetics.

    But something stops her, and it comes in the form of a small, plastic manila box.

    She looks at the tape recorder in her hand. There is almost confused expression on her face as she holds the device. It was a tape recorder, she knew that, but what was she doing with this? After some deliberation, she decides to first hit the rewind button, then the play.

    Click. Whir. Click. “Hello everyone. My name is Maddie Truant.”

    They chanted loudly in a language I had never heard before, surrounding my car. Quiet at first, but they got louder as they went on. A fire started to rise from beneath my car and flames engulfed it, drowning out any screaming from within as the windows shattered and the inside caught fire. I watched from the edge of the meadow as the sun set and the glow from the fire was the only light source for miles. Mama, papa, and uncle Johnny were gone now, and I was all that was left.


    [​IMG]


    The morning had started out innocently enough. Uncle Johnny stopped by for breakfast, Mama and Papa argued over who made the best pancakes, and I laughed as Mr Whiskers jumped up on the counter to knock over the batter. There would be no pancakes at home, so my bright idea was that we should go to IHOP. We lived on a farm so going anywhere was always a hike, but it was Sunday morning and we had nothing else to do but to spend the day with family.


    When we stepped outside to get in my car, a car I had bought with my own earnings just a few months ago, there were two men standing and waiting beside it. They were clad in black robes and had strange markings on their faces, but the strangest part about them was their eyes. Their eyes were pitch black and their smiles were larger than normal. The taller of the two stepped forward with a grin and looked directly at me.


    “Today is the reckoning. It is upon us. Your beauty will bring forth the Lord we seek.”


    His thin, lanky fingers reached out to me and Papa stepped forward with his shotgun in hand.


    “You both best be leaving.” he pumped the shotgun, more of a bark than a bite. The strange men smiled their strange smiles and nodded before walking away. When we drove past them , they stared right at me.


    We made it to the IHOP in time to miss the lunch rush and ordered our breakfasts. When we were done, we got back into the car only to notice the same sort of strange men just across the street, all staring in our direction. Papa told us to hurry and get in the car, and when we pulled off, they were gone. The drive was fairly quiet up until the car began to make a strange sound. I couldn’t believe it considering how new the car was, but still the check engine light came on and the car stopped.


    That was when the men surrounded us. There were a dozen or so men, dressed in robes, smiling at us all. Papa had left the shotgun at home and when he tried to get out, the door wouldn't budge. The car was being pushed off the road by these men. Mama was hysterical, uncle Johnny was angry and trying to comfort Mama. I turned the steering wheel in the direction the men seemed to want me to go. We ended up in a large meadow, right in the middle of it. The men created a circle around the car and started to chant.


    I looked around at Mama, Papa, and uncle Johnny with a large grin and blackened eyes, then I stepped out of the car and moved out of the circle. I kept walking towards the edge of the woods where he was waiting for me. We watched the fire together and listened to them scream. He smiled at me and gently caressed my cheek.


    “Welcome to your new family.”
     
    Cece likes this.
  6. Cece

    Cece always sleepy person

    Messages:
    527
    Likes Received:
    102
    Occupation:
    Student
    Location:
    Texas
    Pssssht. Throws party confetti @Miss Wood .

    A tie is awesome. Writing in the horror genre was more scary than my actual story though! :p
     
    Miss Wood likes this.

Share This Page