RIO's November E-Zine
Weird Horror
Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft, each of these stories have been written as part of a combined effort of three to four different authors depending on the group. With that in mind, RIO presents . . . Weird Horror.
Enjoy :)
THE SCREAM
In a small town called Giraffe Scar there was a young man named Billy who was watching TV. Suddenly heard a thump behind him. He got up to look where the sound was coming from. On the wall was a dent and a piece of splatted brain. Fluids dripped down the brinks and Billy shrieked, running to the back wall. He stood for a long while before the door creaked open and two complete strangers walked inside. One was a moderately-sized male, the other a tall, skinny female. They looked over at him and then at the wall. They went pale and tried to run but the door hand closed behind them.
* * * * *
I was upon them in an instant. My knife flashed in the dim light carving them like the very turkeys I used to carve with a smile. The cleaver slayed blood into the air as I, barely in control of my actions, left two corpses laying on the ground.
I ran as far from the scene as I could. That night they haunted me in my sleep. the incident playing over and over again in my mind. When I woke up I saw the pair standing over me. I rubbed my eyes and they were gone.
I signed, rolled over and went back to sleep. Every night from then on, I saw them. Every night. Every month. Every year. Eventually, I snapped. I saw them and screamed at the top of my lungs. The covered their ears, but I kept screeching.
I screamed and I screamed. My eyes wild, my mouth stretched wide. The sound from my mouth, a wail reverberating off the walls, causing shudders and shakes. I screamed louder, my windrow shattered. Distant crashes of glass told me that mine was not the only one. I screamed on and on, louder and louder. The ground shouting and the walls creaking. I tried to run but my feet wouldn't move. They felt as though they were glued to the ground. When I finally got control of my feet, I ran out just in time to see the house crash to the ground.
The people of the town gathered outside and saw the house. All their buildings crumbled within one week, until all the buildings were ash.
From then on, all the buildings were reinforced but every so often one still crumbles.
THE ELDRICH BOY
The pleasant hilltop town of Idletopolis sat atop one solitary hill resting silently along the rolling plains of Ruzzmatazz. Not much took place in Idletopolis, a simple town of simple people. One day there was a group of kids playing in the field. One boy kicked the ball into the bush. When he went to get it - it had disappeared. He looked further into the bush and noticed a shiny coin. As he reached for it the boy was dragged in screaming and kicking his legs, but then there was no scream anymore - but he was still kicking his legs.
The boy looked up silently and stared at the eyeless, thousand-toothed face poking out of the leafy bush. It breathed heavily, saliva falling from its jaws and mixed with crimson blood. It still held the boy's legs with its clawed hands, each one attached to a skinny arm, six in total.
And then, most mysteriously of all, the boy spoke to the thing, clicking and whistling in an Eldrich tongue known to no man. The beast paused, as if hypnotized, and its open jaws snapped shut. The boy whistled once more to the monstrous creature, then raised his arm, pointing the growling, snorting predator toward the small village upon the hill. The beast roared in delight then slivered away, toward the town.
In the town, everyone was screaming as people were slashing at the creature with swords trying to kill it. It was useless, until the crazy cat lady at the end of one quiet block spilled the cat litter she was taking to the garbage. The town people soon discovered, when someone dumped cat litter, the creature ran into the woods.
The pleasant hilltop town of Idletopolis sat atop one solitary hill resting silently along the rolling plains of Ruzzmatazz. Not much took place in Idletopolis, a simple town of simple people. One day there was a group of kids playing in the field. One boy kicked the ball into the bush. When he went to get it - it had disappeared. He looked further into the bush and noticed a shiny coin. As he reached for it the boy was dragged in screaming and kicking his legs, but then there was no scream anymore - but he was still kicking his legs.
The boy looked up silently and stared at the eyeless, thousand-toothed face poking out of the leafy bush. It breathed heavily, saliva falling from its jaws and mixed with crimson blood. It still held the boy's legs with its clawed hands, each one attached to a skinny arm, six in total.
And then, most mysteriously of all, the boy spoke to the thing, clicking and whistling in an Eldrich tongue known to no man. The beast paused, as if hypnotized, and its open jaws snapped shut. The boy whistled once more to the monstrous creature, then raised his arm, pointing the growling, snorting predator toward the small village upon the hill. The beast roared in delight then slivered away, toward the town.
In the town, everyone was screaming as people were slashing at the creature with swords trying to kill it. It was useless, until the crazy cat lady at the end of one quiet block spilled the cat litter she was taking to the garbage. The town people soon discovered, when someone dumped cat litter, the creature ran into the woods.
A TOWN STAINED RED
In a rather sleepy, idyllic, coastal village of Avian Coast, birds of all types gathered to fish for the clueless coral sea creatures below the blue water. The villagers of Avian coast were a simple folk, leading pleasant lives of frivolic simplicity. Not even the hazy, quiet folk of Avian coast found themselves pondering the misty brackishness of the coral sea of Lute. Though they seemed to have no troubles looking past the stange lack of fish flipping their scaled forms through the quiet, still air, attributing it to the large swarms of seagulls seen flapping around the village.
One day in the middle of the night a stranger wandered in to the village, cut and bleeding. He dropped down, weak, in front of a family's house. The father, Billy, ran out because he heard the stranger moaning. He asked, "Are you okay?"
The stranger replied, "You and your family must leave now. Bad things are going to happen." Then the man died.
Billy ran to the radio tower. He said, "Everyone, pack your bags! We need to leave this place. I repeat, pack your bags. We need to leave this place. I repeat, we need to leave this place!" Billy ran outside to lead the people out of town but a masked and hooded character stood in front of him, blocking him from the gathered crowd.
"YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" The masked and hooded character said, his eyes clouding. "I AM YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE!"
The people began to run but the hooded monster multiplied and claws sprung out from every incarnation's back, fangs punched holes in the mask. People started screaming and soon the slaughter began, blood on every cobble stone, guts on every wall. The screams continued. The villager's fatal mistake signed in red across the town. Soon no one man, woman, or child stood in the town stained red.
In a rather sleepy, idyllic, coastal village of Avian Coast, birds of all types gathered to fish for the clueless coral sea creatures below the blue water. The villagers of Avian coast were a simple folk, leading pleasant lives of frivolic simplicity. Not even the hazy, quiet folk of Avian coast found themselves pondering the misty brackishness of the coral sea of Lute. Though they seemed to have no troubles looking past the stange lack of fish flipping their scaled forms through the quiet, still air, attributing it to the large swarms of seagulls seen flapping around the village.
One day in the middle of the night a stranger wandered in to the village, cut and bleeding. He dropped down, weak, in front of a family's house. The father, Billy, ran out because he heard the stranger moaning. He asked, "Are you okay?"
The stranger replied, "You and your family must leave now. Bad things are going to happen." Then the man died.
Billy ran to the radio tower. He said, "Everyone, pack your bags! We need to leave this place. I repeat, pack your bags. We need to leave this place. I repeat, we need to leave this place!" Billy ran outside to lead the people out of town but a masked and hooded character stood in front of him, blocking him from the gathered crowd.
"YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" The masked and hooded character said, his eyes clouding. "I AM YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE!"
The people began to run but the hooded monster multiplied and claws sprung out from every incarnation's back, fangs punched holes in the mask. People started screaming and soon the slaughter began, blood on every cobble stone, guts on every wall. The screams continued. The villager's fatal mistake signed in red across the town. Soon no one man, woman, or child stood in the town stained red.
WITCHCRAFT MEANS DEATH
A nice town. Boring and monotonous, but nice. Nice Christian families, nice Christian schools. Sure, every once and a while they burned a witch, but that just added to the charm. The charm that reflected each, interesting even that occurred. Burning witches, devils spawning, nothing major, until . . .
Monday, oh dreaded Monday. People were heard screaming during the dead of night, "A witch took refuge in her mom's basement to try and stay away from burnage." Late at night the witch heard her mom scream in pain. This sent shivers down her spine. The rest of the night she shook away under the covers.
The next day her mother seemed fine, and insisted as much, but something seemed off about her. Her eyes were empty of her motherly compassion. That night a terrible blaze burned the house to ashes and the witch perished, however, her body was never found. The mother seemed fine the next day. Her wholeness, compassion, and health returned to her.
"Ah!" the town's blacksmith called out. "I'm so glad you're safe. A shame about the house. I'm sure you'll find an even better lot though. Your last being so cursed and all."
"What do you mean?" the mother asked.
"I heard you had a little witch infestation," he chuckled. "That's over now though."
"Over?" her kind look vanished. "It hasn't even started."
The mother pretended to cover her painfully obvious smirk. A poof sounded and a broom between her legs appeared. She cackled, as a classic witch such as herself would. As she flew, darkness engulfed the ashes of the house. She flew around the town until the skies were black and no light was found, not even in the hearts of the young. Screaming erupted violently from the streets. A meteor shot out of the black sky. As suddenly as it had arrived, the meteor disappeared into the void again, however the mother screamed something about death, and torture, and the end of it all. She expired promptly after, and witchcraft was later never practiced, for all citizens now know witchcraft means death for you and your family.
A nice town. Boring and monotonous, but nice. Nice Christian families, nice Christian schools. Sure, every once and a while they burned a witch, but that just added to the charm. The charm that reflected each, interesting even that occurred. Burning witches, devils spawning, nothing major, until . . .
Monday, oh dreaded Monday. People were heard screaming during the dead of night, "A witch took refuge in her mom's basement to try and stay away from burnage." Late at night the witch heard her mom scream in pain. This sent shivers down her spine. The rest of the night she shook away under the covers.
The next day her mother seemed fine, and insisted as much, but something seemed off about her. Her eyes were empty of her motherly compassion. That night a terrible blaze burned the house to ashes and the witch perished, however, her body was never found. The mother seemed fine the next day. Her wholeness, compassion, and health returned to her.
"Ah!" the town's blacksmith called out. "I'm so glad you're safe. A shame about the house. I'm sure you'll find an even better lot though. Your last being so cursed and all."
"What do you mean?" the mother asked.
"I heard you had a little witch infestation," he chuckled. "That's over now though."
"Over?" her kind look vanished. "It hasn't even started."
The mother pretended to cover her painfully obvious smirk. A poof sounded and a broom between her legs appeared. She cackled, as a classic witch such as herself would. As she flew, darkness engulfed the ashes of the house. She flew around the town until the skies were black and no light was found, not even in the hearts of the young. Screaming erupted violently from the streets. A meteor shot out of the black sky. As suddenly as it had arrived, the meteor disappeared into the void again, however the mother screamed something about death, and torture, and the end of it all. She expired promptly after, and witchcraft was later never practiced, for all citizens now know witchcraft means death for you and your family.
A SMALL PRICE TO PAY
In the City of Tree Valley a girl named Rose was walking upon the grey sidewalk, when she spotted a small, dead gopher on the side of the road. It wasn't unusual. Cats were vicious in the neighborhood. But something wasn't right about the wounds. The bloody gashes were cut into the shape of something far more sinister indeed.
"Wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice echoed through the quiet, dead air. The speaker, a man, Garth, by name, approached me, cane in hand, gesturing to the bloody thing laying across my path. "Evil's afoot here," he spoke, muttering more to himself. than me.
The man, a fanatic by nature, piqued my interest against my better judgement. "Why so?" I responded, my voice filling with my own curiosity. In response, the man flipped the thing over with his cane. I screamed.
The next day I saw the man buying some books. He walked away and then fell down, apparently dead. Everyone gathered around him. I went to see what happened. As I saw him, he had blood pouring from his mouth. He grabbed a tissue from his front pocket and started to wipe the blood. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
The local school teacher steps forward from the crowd and said, "What's this?" The man didn't answer her. The teacher glared, "Tell me, what this is?" She swiped the tissue from his hand.
"No, no. The price to pay," the man said, a knife clutched quietly in his hand.
In the City of Tree Valley a girl named Rose was walking upon the grey sidewalk, when she spotted a small, dead gopher on the side of the road. It wasn't unusual. Cats were vicious in the neighborhood. But something wasn't right about the wounds. The bloody gashes were cut into the shape of something far more sinister indeed.
"Wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice echoed through the quiet, dead air. The speaker, a man, Garth, by name, approached me, cane in hand, gesturing to the bloody thing laying across my path. "Evil's afoot here," he spoke, muttering more to himself. than me.
The man, a fanatic by nature, piqued my interest against my better judgement. "Why so?" I responded, my voice filling with my own curiosity. In response, the man flipped the thing over with his cane. I screamed.
The next day I saw the man buying some books. He walked away and then fell down, apparently dead. Everyone gathered around him. I went to see what happened. As I saw him, he had blood pouring from his mouth. He grabbed a tissue from his front pocket and started to wipe the blood. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
The local school teacher steps forward from the crowd and said, "What's this?" The man didn't answer her. The teacher glared, "Tell me, what this is?" She swiped the tissue from his hand.
"No, no. The price to pay," the man said, a knife clutched quietly in his hand.
THE BASEMENT
The tavern was beige, a boring colour. Few characters wander here, the only repetitive character, the innkeeper. The flowers brightened as spring began to bloom them. After his working hours the innkeeper cleaned up splats of drinks. The floor boards creaked delicately. Foot steps thumped under the ground. "Am I losing my sanity?" whispered the innkeeper under his breath. "I'll go check that out," said the innkeeper.
As the innkeeper was descending the stairs to investigate, a short, unimpressive man in spectacles opened up the inn's door. "Excuse me, sir," he began. "I left my watch in the basement. May I go see if it is still there? I placed it there to be able to carry up a barrel for a waiter, and then forgot it."
The innkeeper, glad to have someone else to investigate, readily agreed and went back to mopping up, as the short man descended the stairs. A while later, the man's footsteps hammered back up the stairs, slightly louder than before. "Did you find your watch?" the innkeeper asked , not looking up from the particularly difficult stain on the counter.
No answer.
"Sir?" the innkeeper was frozen in his place, heart hammering. He slowly forced a glance up. The man from before glared down. A huge black mass writhed behind him, exuding from his back. The man was nothing more than a puppet to this disgusting Eldrich terror.
The darkness wrapped around the man engulfing him in black. Screams penetrated the darkness. The innkeeper began to chant, trying to keep the terror from attacking him. He forgot about the stain, focusing entirely on magic to keep the beast away. The smell of darkening flesh rose from the darkness engulfing the man. The innkeeper began to pray as onyx tears streamed from his face. Feare bubbled in his stomach acid. The innkeeper couldn't keep away fear. He screamed out, "Aaarrgg!" He sprinted to his washroom and locked himself inside. The walls were splattered with blood. "Aaaaha!" he screamed again.
Trapped in the washroom stained with blood, the innkeeper heard the door open. He quivered with fear and began to make peace with his god, when the bespectacled man opened the door. "Are you okay, sir?" he asked, seeming normal. "I found my watch." The innkeeper saw a strange, cosmic icon on the pocket watch and as he watched it, it seemed to glow before his eyes. "oh, very sorry. I must have hallucinated something." the innkeeper stuttered. The blood had disappeared from the walls.
The innkeeper swore from then on to never forget anything in the basement, ever.
The tavern was beige, a boring colour. Few characters wander here, the only repetitive character, the innkeeper. The flowers brightened as spring began to bloom them. After his working hours the innkeeper cleaned up splats of drinks. The floor boards creaked delicately. Foot steps thumped under the ground. "Am I losing my sanity?" whispered the innkeeper under his breath. "I'll go check that out," said the innkeeper.
As the innkeeper was descending the stairs to investigate, a short, unimpressive man in spectacles opened up the inn's door. "Excuse me, sir," he began. "I left my watch in the basement. May I go see if it is still there? I placed it there to be able to carry up a barrel for a waiter, and then forgot it."
The innkeeper, glad to have someone else to investigate, readily agreed and went back to mopping up, as the short man descended the stairs. A while later, the man's footsteps hammered back up the stairs, slightly louder than before. "Did you find your watch?" the innkeeper asked , not looking up from the particularly difficult stain on the counter.
No answer.
"Sir?" the innkeeper was frozen in his place, heart hammering. He slowly forced a glance up. The man from before glared down. A huge black mass writhed behind him, exuding from his back. The man was nothing more than a puppet to this disgusting Eldrich terror.
The darkness wrapped around the man engulfing him in black. Screams penetrated the darkness. The innkeeper began to chant, trying to keep the terror from attacking him. He forgot about the stain, focusing entirely on magic to keep the beast away. The smell of darkening flesh rose from the darkness engulfing the man. The innkeeper began to pray as onyx tears streamed from his face. Feare bubbled in his stomach acid. The innkeeper couldn't keep away fear. He screamed out, "Aaarrgg!" He sprinted to his washroom and locked himself inside. The walls were splattered with blood. "Aaaaha!" he screamed again.
Trapped in the washroom stained with blood, the innkeeper heard the door open. He quivered with fear and began to make peace with his god, when the bespectacled man opened the door. "Are you okay, sir?" he asked, seeming normal. "I found my watch." The innkeeper saw a strange, cosmic icon on the pocket watch and as he watched it, it seemed to glow before his eyes. "oh, very sorry. I must have hallucinated something." the innkeeper stuttered. The blood had disappeared from the walls.
The innkeeper swore from then on to never forget anything in the basement, ever.
MOSS
As I walked down the cobblestone path, through the forest of emerald leaves and wooded trunks. I found myself. I found myself lost in daydream. I thought of the animals that must inhabit the wood, despite the fact I had now teen any yet, and if there could be people in the forest. The sun shone through the leaves onto the rocky path, distorted by the leaves and cracks in the rocks. Green specs dotted the ground, increasing in volume as I walked. Soon the ground was a uniform colour. Shadows passed over the cobblestone in a strange bubbling manner, making it look like the moss blanketing the ground was moving. That notion would be asurd of course. Moving mos? Really?
The Shadows seemed to be more animated than just regular shadows they moved when they were supposed to be still. Just the wind. Moving shadows? Yeah, that's it. They were black as expected but more detailed than regular shadow. I could see faces, those of old folks that had died here before. Elizabeth Moe, her curls bounced as her shadow walked. Who else are these people in the shadows I wondered. I went to check out some of the shadows. I knew it was a terrible idea, but I was very curious. Out I went, the closer I got to the shadows the more mundane they got. I decided to head back home. Arriving at my door I spotted Elizabeth Moe's body laying on my doorstep. "Groan!" bellowed something.
This was impossible! Elizabeth Moe was twelve years dead and burred miles away. I quietly snuck around to where I had heard the groan, expecting grave robbers pulling a practical joke. As I turned the corner of my cabin I made a picture, a horrible visage of a dog with a man's physique devouring a human head. When I returned my gaze after averting my eyes, however, the mos was merely a uniform green. My eyes began to blur. I stumbled forward, tripping over some cracks. I groaned, headache hitting me full force. A smell of copper filling my lungs. Blackness filling my vision. I fell to sleep and my consciousness faded. Slowly but surely the most wrapped around my soul.
Know no one ever tampers with moss.
As I walked down the cobblestone path, through the forest of emerald leaves and wooded trunks. I found myself. I found myself lost in daydream. I thought of the animals that must inhabit the wood, despite the fact I had now teen any yet, and if there could be people in the forest. The sun shone through the leaves onto the rocky path, distorted by the leaves and cracks in the rocks. Green specs dotted the ground, increasing in volume as I walked. Soon the ground was a uniform colour. Shadows passed over the cobblestone in a strange bubbling manner, making it look like the moss blanketing the ground was moving. That notion would be asurd of course. Moving mos? Really?
The Shadows seemed to be more animated than just regular shadows they moved when they were supposed to be still. Just the wind. Moving shadows? Yeah, that's it. They were black as expected but more detailed than regular shadow. I could see faces, those of old folks that had died here before. Elizabeth Moe, her curls bounced as her shadow walked. Who else are these people in the shadows I wondered. I went to check out some of the shadows. I knew it was a terrible idea, but I was very curious. Out I went, the closer I got to the shadows the more mundane they got. I decided to head back home. Arriving at my door I spotted Elizabeth Moe's body laying on my doorstep. "Groan!" bellowed something.
This was impossible! Elizabeth Moe was twelve years dead and burred miles away. I quietly snuck around to where I had heard the groan, expecting grave robbers pulling a practical joke. As I turned the corner of my cabin I made a picture, a horrible visage of a dog with a man's physique devouring a human head. When I returned my gaze after averting my eyes, however, the mos was merely a uniform green. My eyes began to blur. I stumbled forward, tripping over some cracks. I groaned, headache hitting me full force. A smell of copper filling my lungs. Blackness filling my vision. I fell to sleep and my consciousness faded. Slowly but surely the most wrapped around my soul.
Know no one ever tampers with moss.
ALIEN VS DRAGON
As the sun sets in the valley, the street lamps of Pezville light up the children and the families gather around the fountain in the middle of town. Then someone hears something, she hears something, it sounds like bites, and blood drips, she gets scared. Suddenly, a thing with talons jumps out and begins to attack. All of the people dying, but then a dragon comes and the thing chases the dragon. Their wing beats cut through the dark sky, the shrieks and cries of their battle echoing through the night.
The dragon wails as a talon caught his wing, blood flying. He lashes out, a fierce cry ripping from his throat, trying in vain to catch the horrid thing that has been killing his people. With a jolt, he realizes that he can't see it. Something lands on his back- a bone snaps - and he goes spiraling down. As the dragon crashes into the ground, he catches a glimpse of the horrid creature. Black as night, the creature grins, showing its' sharp fangs.
A horrid smell of junk fills the dragons nostrils. The dragon roars as loud as he can and casts spells, raising his dead people. The unknown creature took the last bit of life from the dragon, and finished off all of humanity that was left, and called for his alien friends who then sold the Earth for $100.00
To be frank, the stupid planet wasn't even worth much for all the trouble they had gone through. So much junk everywhere.
As the sun sets in the valley, the street lamps of Pezville light up the children and the families gather around the fountain in the middle of town. Then someone hears something, she hears something, it sounds like bites, and blood drips, she gets scared. Suddenly, a thing with talons jumps out and begins to attack. All of the people dying, but then a dragon comes and the thing chases the dragon. Their wing beats cut through the dark sky, the shrieks and cries of their battle echoing through the night.
The dragon wails as a talon caught his wing, blood flying. He lashes out, a fierce cry ripping from his throat, trying in vain to catch the horrid thing that has been killing his people. With a jolt, he realizes that he can't see it. Something lands on his back- a bone snaps - and he goes spiraling down. As the dragon crashes into the ground, he catches a glimpse of the horrid creature. Black as night, the creature grins, showing its' sharp fangs.
A horrid smell of junk fills the dragons nostrils. The dragon roars as loud as he can and casts spells, raising his dead people. The unknown creature took the last bit of life from the dragon, and finished off all of humanity that was left, and called for his alien friends who then sold the Earth for $100.00
To be frank, the stupid planet wasn't even worth much for all the trouble they had gone through. So much junk everywhere.
THE DISAPPEARING BABY
In the depths of Renthal, nothing absolutely horrible happened, it is not especially popular for its' great size. However, things in Renthal sometimes disappeared suspiciously. Many people imagined that the wolves were at fault whenever something or someone would disappear. Even when a baby was once stolen from its' crib, and it was found the next day. No one was ever confused by the disappearance of these children , as the baby had been in its' room when the parents' came to check on them and absolutely nothing had changed the next day. The door was closed and the blankets not noticeably disturbed. A terrible occurrence, a disappearing baby, but the town was not about to do anything but blame others when it was discovered. That was until the disappearances worsened. Small children, important figures, teens, all began popping out of what seemed to be existence, and reappearing slightly out of it with no memories of what had happened.
The police tried and tried again, trying to figure out what characteristics matched up, none to be found. Why were these people taken, and not others? I worried for my own child until the day she disappeared. Her raven hair and pale cheeks matched none of the others, but why my child? I knew something was immensely suspicious when I heard a familiar obnoxious crying. It sounded like a child. I followed the sound to my fridge, then shut my eyes and opened the fridge. The sobbing ceased, and instead of a child there was a giant carnivorous weasel.
The weasel leapt at me, its' teeth bared. I closed my eyes and prepared for a bit that would end my life. However, when it never came and I dared to open my eyes, my daughter was looking over me. "Mommy, are you alright?" she asked. I could only reply with "Just sleepwalking dear." I found I could not sleep, despite that the weasel must have just been a bad dream. When I did some research on the "Renthal abductions" I found that many parents had dreams of animals attacking them in their homes.
One thing was reoccurring, all that disappeared had the same dream. They were attacked by wolves. And the people of the idyllic city refused to dream again, many became insomniacs.
In the depths of Renthal, nothing absolutely horrible happened, it is not especially popular for its' great size. However, things in Renthal sometimes disappeared suspiciously. Many people imagined that the wolves were at fault whenever something or someone would disappear. Even when a baby was once stolen from its' crib, and it was found the next day. No one was ever confused by the disappearance of these children , as the baby had been in its' room when the parents' came to check on them and absolutely nothing had changed the next day. The door was closed and the blankets not noticeably disturbed. A terrible occurrence, a disappearing baby, but the town was not about to do anything but blame others when it was discovered. That was until the disappearances worsened. Small children, important figures, teens, all began popping out of what seemed to be existence, and reappearing slightly out of it with no memories of what had happened.
The police tried and tried again, trying to figure out what characteristics matched up, none to be found. Why were these people taken, and not others? I worried for my own child until the day she disappeared. Her raven hair and pale cheeks matched none of the others, but why my child? I knew something was immensely suspicious when I heard a familiar obnoxious crying. It sounded like a child. I followed the sound to my fridge, then shut my eyes and opened the fridge. The sobbing ceased, and instead of a child there was a giant carnivorous weasel.
The weasel leapt at me, its' teeth bared. I closed my eyes and prepared for a bit that would end my life. However, when it never came and I dared to open my eyes, my daughter was looking over me. "Mommy, are you alright?" she asked. I could only reply with "Just sleepwalking dear." I found I could not sleep, despite that the weasel must have just been a bad dream. When I did some research on the "Renthal abductions" I found that many parents had dreams of animals attacking them in their homes.
One thing was reoccurring, all that disappeared had the same dream. They were attacked by wolves. And the people of the idyllic city refused to dream again, many became insomniacs.
WHEN ZOMBIE SQUIDS ATTACK
In Spookyland, everyone had fun. Until things went weird, because cats were killing each other and giraffes were committing suicide, and dogs were eating their own guts.
And then she came. Her blue eyes were so pale they were almost white, and there was a certain way that they gleamed in the light. Her skin was pale too, in contrast to her hair, which was black as night.
She had an ethereal glow about her; a calmness seemed to radiate off of her. For a moment, it almost eased the chaos. There was that gleam in her eyes again.
Suddenly many thumps were heard on the rood. Sara went to look out the windows and there were squids raining from the sky. Sara walked out into the squid rain and chaos. With a "splat," a squid landed on her head. Standing there in silence Sara ate the squid off her head, then it grinned. It brought zombie squids, there was blood everywhere and the zombie squids killed many.
And it was that dog, Sara realized, with hands shaking and heart thumping, that she should have never come here. And of course - if she ever saw a squid - run.
From then on the squid army squelched to victory.
In Spookyland, everyone had fun. Until things went weird, because cats were killing each other and giraffes were committing suicide, and dogs were eating their own guts.
And then she came. Her blue eyes were so pale they were almost white, and there was a certain way that they gleamed in the light. Her skin was pale too, in contrast to her hair, which was black as night.
She had an ethereal glow about her; a calmness seemed to radiate off of her. For a moment, it almost eased the chaos. There was that gleam in her eyes again.
Suddenly many thumps were heard on the rood. Sara went to look out the windows and there were squids raining from the sky. Sara walked out into the squid rain and chaos. With a "splat," a squid landed on her head. Standing there in silence Sara ate the squid off her head, then it grinned. It brought zombie squids, there was blood everywhere and the zombie squids killed many.
And it was that dog, Sara realized, with hands shaking and heart thumping, that she should have never come here. And of course - if she ever saw a squid - run.
From then on the squid army squelched to victory.
CURIOUS FRED
In Waa-waa land it is very normal for people to always cry. Everything was normal until Fred found a box. Now, it wasn't if he had never seen a box before. It was simply the manner of which he had found it that disturbed him. It had been sitting on a bench, in the rain, sagging and soggy. Normally, he had gone over to see what it was- and then it had opened. He blinked, confused, and again, it was closed. Deciding it was his eyes playing tricks on him, he went closer, still curious. In smudged Sharpie on the lid of the box were the words 'DO NOT OPEN.'
Fred was a curious child who was fabulously bad at listening to rules. About two years ago, he found himself in a situation where he was on the edge of a ravine and tripped on a rock. He fell 50 feet into the ravine but luckily some people were doing construction that Fred fell on. Fred wound up dying from blood trauma. Then the land blew up, one man lived. He saw the box and smashed it.
But then, the box regenerated and opened a void that sucked up the entire universe, and there it floated in space for the next 1000 years.
In Waa-waa land it is very normal for people to always cry. Everything was normal until Fred found a box. Now, it wasn't if he had never seen a box before. It was simply the manner of which he had found it that disturbed him. It had been sitting on a bench, in the rain, sagging and soggy. Normally, he had gone over to see what it was- and then it had opened. He blinked, confused, and again, it was closed. Deciding it was his eyes playing tricks on him, he went closer, still curious. In smudged Sharpie on the lid of the box were the words 'DO NOT OPEN.'
Fred was a curious child who was fabulously bad at listening to rules. About two years ago, he found himself in a situation where he was on the edge of a ravine and tripped on a rock. He fell 50 feet into the ravine but luckily some people were doing construction that Fred fell on. Fred wound up dying from blood trauma. Then the land blew up, one man lived. He saw the box and smashed it.
But then, the box regenerated and opened a void that sucked up the entire universe, and there it floated in space for the next 1000 years.
VACANCY
Lights glowed warmly from inside the hotel, illuminating the shrubs and flowers planted outside. The walls of the hotel were panelled with pale wooden planks, the roof sheathed in shingles. A single sign sat outside; 'Vacancies'. The name was concealed. The travellers who arrived went to relax in the pool. They noticed a slight tint of red. They asked the pale skinned woman at the front desk about the red tint. She responded with a stare, which sent a chill down their spines, "It's the new cleaner."
The woman led the patron to her room and found a body with knife stabs and blood everywhere inside. Then the pale skinned woman came in with a gun and shot them.
The police came the next day, and one of the officers saw the red tint and took a sample from the pool, and the vacancy sign from the outside. The detective wasn't exactly sure what the head officer was thinking when he told them to go ahead and reopen the hotel a month later. Officer Phillips had followed him there, and watched as he put the sign back up. Then, Phillips had told him to turn around and close his eyes. He did, hands shaking and heart thumping. He heard screaming, loud and shrill, and his eyes flew open, and Phillips was collapsed on the ground, eyes empty, and vacant.
The detective started to run back into the hotel. He ran through a door and opened it to find he was back at the pool. He tried a different door, feeling as if he were going insane. Going through this new door, he found himself at the pool yet again. He realized he was forever trapped in this hotel. Learning one should never go in a mysterious hotel.
Lights glowed warmly from inside the hotel, illuminating the shrubs and flowers planted outside. The walls of the hotel were panelled with pale wooden planks, the roof sheathed in shingles. A single sign sat outside; 'Vacancies'. The name was concealed. The travellers who arrived went to relax in the pool. They noticed a slight tint of red. They asked the pale skinned woman at the front desk about the red tint. She responded with a stare, which sent a chill down their spines, "It's the new cleaner."
The woman led the patron to her room and found a body with knife stabs and blood everywhere inside. Then the pale skinned woman came in with a gun and shot them.
The police came the next day, and one of the officers saw the red tint and took a sample from the pool, and the vacancy sign from the outside. The detective wasn't exactly sure what the head officer was thinking when he told them to go ahead and reopen the hotel a month later. Officer Phillips had followed him there, and watched as he put the sign back up. Then, Phillips had told him to turn around and close his eyes. He did, hands shaking and heart thumping. He heard screaming, loud and shrill, and his eyes flew open, and Phillips was collapsed on the ground, eyes empty, and vacant.
The detective started to run back into the hotel. He ran through a door and opened it to find he was back at the pool. He tried a different door, feeling as if he were going insane. Going through this new door, he found himself at the pool yet again. He realized he was forever trapped in this hotel. Learning one should never go in a mysterious hotel.
SEEKING A MADMAN
It is said, that in the mountains west of Sardeth there lies a cottage, nestled among the aspens and the pines. An idyllic little thing. With golden sunlight and whispering winds, it is said to be inhabited by an old man. One can climb the mountains, and seek the audience of this aged hermit, but to make sense of his ramblings is a tough task indeed. It was for this reason that I sought out such a madman.
Rumour has it the man wasn't always a wreck. I sought to find out what went wrong. I heard a knock at the door. I opened the door to a coworker, whom I had told of the planned adventure. She was strangely afraid when I told her and begged me not to carry out on this journey. I laughed it off at the time, now I wish I heeded her warning, for the events that would transpire shook me to the core.
I started hiking up the mountain, the full moon lighting my way. I kept pace slowing only by the eerie sounds in the bush. I kept moving, quickening my steps, and hoping to find my way before fear overcame me. If only that had been the case. For suddenly a growl sounded behind me. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. Not looking back and never returning to that unholy place.
It is said, that in the mountains west of Sardeth there lies a cottage, nestled among the aspens and the pines. An idyllic little thing. With golden sunlight and whispering winds, it is said to be inhabited by an old man. One can climb the mountains, and seek the audience of this aged hermit, but to make sense of his ramblings is a tough task indeed. It was for this reason that I sought out such a madman.
Rumour has it the man wasn't always a wreck. I sought to find out what went wrong. I heard a knock at the door. I opened the door to a coworker, whom I had told of the planned adventure. She was strangely afraid when I told her and begged me not to carry out on this journey. I laughed it off at the time, now I wish I heeded her warning, for the events that would transpire shook me to the core.
I started hiking up the mountain, the full moon lighting my way. I kept pace slowing only by the eerie sounds in the bush. I kept moving, quickening my steps, and hoping to find my way before fear overcame me. If only that had been the case. For suddenly a growl sounded behind me. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. Not looking back and never returning to that unholy place.
RUNNING DOWN THE STAIRS
I remember where it started. I was living in a small town at the moment, with a name that had been long forgotten. One day, in the middle of the longest drought we could remember, after the sun was down and the children were tucked away in their beds, the air chilled and the fire in the hearth extinguished in an instant. The people of the town tucked themselves in tight that night. I remember the day vividly. Me and my wife, Mary, despite all the wool we could heap up on our bed, the unnatural chill struck me to the bone. At night I heard an eerie wailing, it sat just at the end of my ears, too far to confirm, and to be honest, I don't think I wanted to believe it.
Suddenly wolves with glowing red eyes appeared, and lunged to me. I woke with a shot. As I saw that everything appeared fine, I started to drift away. I heard the wailing once again, I looked up to the window, to see the blur of a red glowing eye. I rushed downstairs, a lantern clutched in my hand, my nightgown pulled halfway around my body. I sped into the street, lantern held high, my heart in my throat, my eyes flashing back and forth looking for the source of the red, only to find a sight most unpleasant before me - a body across my path.It was pale, its skin stretched tight over its face. Its expression, that of abject terror. Its form was mangled beyond recognition, and as I approached, mu feeling of horror only grew as I saw more grisly details in the corpse. I didn't believe my repulsion could have possibly been greater. That was at least until the body stirred. It stood on ragged limbs. It opened its mouth - a mixture of bile and blood pouring from its maw as it screamed. And that is why when you ran down the stairs. Don't. Don't run down the stairs, in the middle of the night. You never know the horrors you will find.
I remember where it started. I was living in a small town at the moment, with a name that had been long forgotten. One day, in the middle of the longest drought we could remember, after the sun was down and the children were tucked away in their beds, the air chilled and the fire in the hearth extinguished in an instant. The people of the town tucked themselves in tight that night. I remember the day vividly. Me and my wife, Mary, despite all the wool we could heap up on our bed, the unnatural chill struck me to the bone. At night I heard an eerie wailing, it sat just at the end of my ears, too far to confirm, and to be honest, I don't think I wanted to believe it.
Suddenly wolves with glowing red eyes appeared, and lunged to me. I woke with a shot. As I saw that everything appeared fine, I started to drift away. I heard the wailing once again, I looked up to the window, to see the blur of a red glowing eye. I rushed downstairs, a lantern clutched in my hand, my nightgown pulled halfway around my body. I sped into the street, lantern held high, my heart in my throat, my eyes flashing back and forth looking for the source of the red, only to find a sight most unpleasant before me - a body across my path.It was pale, its skin stretched tight over its face. Its expression, that of abject terror. Its form was mangled beyond recognition, and as I approached, mu feeling of horror only grew as I saw more grisly details in the corpse. I didn't believe my repulsion could have possibly been greater. That was at least until the body stirred. It stood on ragged limbs. It opened its mouth - a mixture of bile and blood pouring from its maw as it screamed. And that is why when you ran down the stairs. Don't. Don't run down the stairs, in the middle of the night. You never know the horrors you will find.
NOTHING EVER HAPPENS HERE
In a small town with white houses, with neat rows of tulips, and all the shutters on the windows painted blue or red - but never both, where the young girls have pigtails and everything is organized and calm, nothing ever happens. No one ever died. No one ever killed. Especially not little girls with pigtails. No blue blinds ever had red splatters. Never.
Then Jeffrey entered the school and found himself the schools first new student in a very long time. He looked around the school. Children had blank looks and empty eyes. The school smelt like rotting flesh with a bit of tuna surprise from the cafeteria. No one appeared to see Jefferey. They bumped into him and shoved him out of the way.
He is angered. The clouds in the sky did NOT get strange. Never. Not here. No one disappeared. The stranger never existed. But he did and this needed to be dealt with.
Each of the folk sprouted reptilian tails. Jeffery was not pleased with them for shedding their disguise. Reptilian tails swung as their owner advanced. Jeffrey ran , calling to them, yelling in a weird language. The fold retreated and ran back to their master.
Lizards do not exist in the town. Nothing is strange.
In a small town with white houses, with neat rows of tulips, and all the shutters on the windows painted blue or red - but never both, where the young girls have pigtails and everything is organized and calm, nothing ever happens. No one ever died. No one ever killed. Especially not little girls with pigtails. No blue blinds ever had red splatters. Never.
Then Jeffrey entered the school and found himself the schools first new student in a very long time. He looked around the school. Children had blank looks and empty eyes. The school smelt like rotting flesh with a bit of tuna surprise from the cafeteria. No one appeared to see Jefferey. They bumped into him and shoved him out of the way.
He is angered. The clouds in the sky did NOT get strange. Never. Not here. No one disappeared. The stranger never existed. But he did and this needed to be dealt with.
Each of the folk sprouted reptilian tails. Jeffery was not pleased with them for shedding their disguise. Reptilian tails swung as their owner advanced. Jeffrey ran , calling to them, yelling in a weird language. The fold retreated and ran back to their master.
Lizards do not exist in the town. Nothing is strange.
THE WOMAN IN WHITE
The lovely town of Green Lake was peaceful, and the tavern in town was equally peaceful. The coal miners would return from the mines and unwind with friends, and drink to their hearts desire. The people of Green Lake were simple folk, no problem could not be solved by a relaxing night at the inn, and so the men and women could easily overlook the strange lack of light coming in the day. Attributing the lack of light to spring hours.
As the days grew shorter and shorter, the nights became darker and darker. The villagers began to worry. Then, they were visited by a woman in white. The woman walked into town one day. Talking to no one, looking at nothing. Her face revealed the sadness in her, a sorrow so deep rooted that as she passed by she was offered no room, and given no warm food. By morning the woman was gone and no sun peeked its way into the sky that day, bathing the people in darkness for all hours ‘till nightfall.
The people flocked to the chapel, fearing the wrath of their god. It was of great surprise that they found in the chapel’s meager graveyard a great stone monument to a forgotten happening. There, engraved on that dark shrine, was the woman in white. A townsperson in fear of the momemner, ran for the chapel, ahead of the other people, but as he got close, he was stopped midstep by an unseen power. As the town looked on in horror, the poor man was vaporized. Only a skeleton remained a moment later. Screams of horror followed as the white woman appeared and the town fell silent forever. To this day this town is a reminder to treat all with kindness in hopes of nothing this dire ever taking place again.
The lovely town of Green Lake was peaceful, and the tavern in town was equally peaceful. The coal miners would return from the mines and unwind with friends, and drink to their hearts desire. The people of Green Lake were simple folk, no problem could not be solved by a relaxing night at the inn, and so the men and women could easily overlook the strange lack of light coming in the day. Attributing the lack of light to spring hours.
As the days grew shorter and shorter, the nights became darker and darker. The villagers began to worry. Then, they were visited by a woman in white. The woman walked into town one day. Talking to no one, looking at nothing. Her face revealed the sadness in her, a sorrow so deep rooted that as she passed by she was offered no room, and given no warm food. By morning the woman was gone and no sun peeked its way into the sky that day, bathing the people in darkness for all hours ‘till nightfall.
The people flocked to the chapel, fearing the wrath of their god. It was of great surprise that they found in the chapel’s meager graveyard a great stone monument to a forgotten happening. There, engraved on that dark shrine, was the woman in white. A townsperson in fear of the momemner, ran for the chapel, ahead of the other people, but as he got close, he was stopped midstep by an unseen power. As the town looked on in horror, the poor man was vaporized. Only a skeleton remained a moment later. Screams of horror followed as the white woman appeared and the town fell silent forever. To this day this town is a reminder to treat all with kindness in hopes of nothing this dire ever taking place again.
A TOWN NAMED HELL
There once was a town named Hell. It was a perfectly happy, filled with kawii tentacle monsters and pancakes with arms. Most people wondered why it was called such a thing. Hell wasn’t usually seen as a “perfectly happy” place in literature. The monsters were cute, why would that be wrong? But cute can also mean deadly.
One prime example, albeit unsuspecting, was a small child who had resided here for an unnumbered amount of time. It was disarming in its appearance, eliciting an automatic warmth in those who viewed them. But mysterious things tend to happen when they come near. The small child was wandering around the area and was spooked by a spooky scary skeleton. "Spooky ume!" he screamed. and passed out.
The small child rose up, eyes blank. His tongue ripped from his throat and stabbed him in the eye. His head did a three hundred and sixty degree turn and his mouth became an eye. He sprouted wings and flew away. He screamed cscwarchomzathorgican-iregnizrictmrocshelworm. He flew to the top of the tallest tower in the town and screamed at the top of his lungs, which were, somehow, still intact.
This alerted the town, frightening them to the depths of their souls. They began to slowly alter in response to the child. His onyx wings covered the clouds shrouding the town in darkness. The townspeople seemed as if to evolve, gathering in silence beneath the tower that held the demon boy. Gathering their wits, they began an ominous chant, hoping to destroy the winged beast, whose onyx feathers began to molt under the spell, but in one final sell, released a scream so piercing the townspeople fell: it was unknown to him of their fates, as he retreated, the town as best he could , exhausted and resolved.
And that is why you should never encounter spooky scary skeletons.
There once was a town named Hell. It was a perfectly happy, filled with kawii tentacle monsters and pancakes with arms. Most people wondered why it was called such a thing. Hell wasn’t usually seen as a “perfectly happy” place in literature. The monsters were cute, why would that be wrong? But cute can also mean deadly.
One prime example, albeit unsuspecting, was a small child who had resided here for an unnumbered amount of time. It was disarming in its appearance, eliciting an automatic warmth in those who viewed them. But mysterious things tend to happen when they come near. The small child was wandering around the area and was spooked by a spooky scary skeleton. "Spooky ume!" he screamed. and passed out.
The small child rose up, eyes blank. His tongue ripped from his throat and stabbed him in the eye. His head did a three hundred and sixty degree turn and his mouth became an eye. He sprouted wings and flew away. He screamed cscwarchomzathorgican-iregnizrictmrocshelworm. He flew to the top of the tallest tower in the town and screamed at the top of his lungs, which were, somehow, still intact.
This alerted the town, frightening them to the depths of their souls. They began to slowly alter in response to the child. His onyx wings covered the clouds shrouding the town in darkness. The townspeople seemed as if to evolve, gathering in silence beneath the tower that held the demon boy. Gathering their wits, they began an ominous chant, hoping to destroy the winged beast, whose onyx feathers began to molt under the spell, but in one final sell, released a scream so piercing the townspeople fell: it was unknown to him of their fates, as he retreated, the town as best he could , exhausted and resolved.
And that is why you should never encounter spooky scary skeletons.
THE BARISTA
The air was easy to breathe in this town. A sweet little cafe on the corner street, yes it was called corner street, was empty, but for a single worker making mocha for himself, awaiting any customer to come in. Today had been quiet, moreso than usual, but not concerning.
There were shadows dancing in the next street, yet unseen by the unsuspecting barista. Idyllic in his goings, he awaited a customer, whilst the shadows ever inched forwards. A spooky, scary, skeleton walked into the door, having no idea where he was. The skeleton began to writhe in pain, unnamed fluids oozing from every orifice with a splooch. And then it was over. The skeleton was gone. The barista was horrified by the skeleton and its unnamed fluids and despite its exit couldn't stop the memory from unfolding over and over again. It was almost as if the memory was alive, festering in the barista's mind, a monster in itself of sorts. The vision convulsed, growing yet shrinking, no longer a memory, yet incorporeal. Its previous fluids became real, leaking through the barista as he became a host. In a daze a he witnessed the vision disappear, all left over was gone, though he kept on. The barista saw Randy Orton, John Cena, and three spooky, scary skeletons popped out of nowhere. "Eat pears!" they yelled. And then they threw some pears at the barista and vanished.
The air was easy to breathe in this town. A sweet little cafe on the corner street, yes it was called corner street, was empty, but for a single worker making mocha for himself, awaiting any customer to come in. Today had been quiet, moreso than usual, but not concerning.
There were shadows dancing in the next street, yet unseen by the unsuspecting barista. Idyllic in his goings, he awaited a customer, whilst the shadows ever inched forwards. A spooky, scary, skeleton walked into the door, having no idea where he was. The skeleton began to writhe in pain, unnamed fluids oozing from every orifice with a splooch. And then it was over. The skeleton was gone. The barista was horrified by the skeleton and its unnamed fluids and despite its exit couldn't stop the memory from unfolding over and over again. It was almost as if the memory was alive, festering in the barista's mind, a monster in itself of sorts. The vision convulsed, growing yet shrinking, no longer a memory, yet incorporeal. Its previous fluids became real, leaking through the barista as he became a host. In a daze a he witnessed the vision disappear, all left over was gone, though he kept on. The barista saw Randy Orton, John Cena, and three spooky, scary skeletons popped out of nowhere. "Eat pears!" they yelled. And then they threw some pears at the barista and vanished.
WHY MEN FEAR THE DARK
The shrine. A beautiful, serene, holy place. However dark shadows have always lurked in this place. Visitors don't know, however the inquisitive minds notice, shrine maidens scurry when asked about the shadows. A new visitor with a great mind stumbled on this place. They saw shadows dipping everywhere, even in the sun. Sometimes they formed shapes. The stranger asked every person they saw, what the shadows were. But no one answered, they all just ran away. The stranger wandered back. A large beast had formed in the shadows leering over them. The beast struck. Red splattered the floor. A groan of pain echoed throughout. The creature, having bested the man in a single blow, dusted his hands off and molded a doll from the shadows left atop the corpse. He whispered to the doll. He had breathed life into it. As it got up, growing a bit, it ran towards a bystander. It started scratching at the young man, it pulled at his hands, and peeled back his fingernails. Screaming occurred. The doll in the shadow drifted through the shrine, the holly people were blotted out.
This is why men fear the dark.
The shrine. A beautiful, serene, holy place. However dark shadows have always lurked in this place. Visitors don't know, however the inquisitive minds notice, shrine maidens scurry when asked about the shadows. A new visitor with a great mind stumbled on this place. They saw shadows dipping everywhere, even in the sun. Sometimes they formed shapes. The stranger asked every person they saw, what the shadows were. But no one answered, they all just ran away. The stranger wandered back. A large beast had formed in the shadows leering over them. The beast struck. Red splattered the floor. A groan of pain echoed throughout. The creature, having bested the man in a single blow, dusted his hands off and molded a doll from the shadows left atop the corpse. He whispered to the doll. He had breathed life into it. As it got up, growing a bit, it ran towards a bystander. It started scratching at the young man, it pulled at his hands, and peeled back his fingernails. Screaming occurred. The doll in the shadow drifted through the shrine, the holly people were blotted out.
This is why men fear the dark.
THE RAVEN
In the charming pet shop of Fluffy Fluff Fluff, there were five dogs, thirteen cats, and you could not turn around without disturbing an exotic bird of some kind. The exotic birds have never left the pet shop and never been bought. Cats and dogs go in and out and new ones always come in. No matter what you do, a bird will always be disrupted. Birds are too aggressive and attack people quite often. Every week, a girl would enter the shop asking for a raven. She was denied every time. It was too dangerous because the raven in the shop would always peck out the eyes of its owners. However the shop keeper eventually relented. The raven landed on the girl's shoulder and pecked out her left eye. As blood flowed out the eye hole the girl then licked her lips. She reached out and pulled the eye. She immediately pulled it out and swallowed it whole. She smiled. Wiped her mouth and walked out. The girl and her raven strode down the street. The blood ran down and splattered the ground. Opening her mouth, she stared deep into the eyes of passersby, with both of her own. Those who met her gaze became hers and they in turn plucked their left eyes out, ate them and spread the curse. In response, survivors blindfolded themselves and stared only at the ground and that is why ravens and left eyes are illegal.
In the charming pet shop of Fluffy Fluff Fluff, there were five dogs, thirteen cats, and you could not turn around without disturbing an exotic bird of some kind. The exotic birds have never left the pet shop and never been bought. Cats and dogs go in and out and new ones always come in. No matter what you do, a bird will always be disrupted. Birds are too aggressive and attack people quite often. Every week, a girl would enter the shop asking for a raven. She was denied every time. It was too dangerous because the raven in the shop would always peck out the eyes of its owners. However the shop keeper eventually relented. The raven landed on the girl's shoulder and pecked out her left eye. As blood flowed out the eye hole the girl then licked her lips. She reached out and pulled the eye. She immediately pulled it out and swallowed it whole. She smiled. Wiped her mouth and walked out. The girl and her raven strode down the street. The blood ran down and splattered the ground. Opening her mouth, she stared deep into the eyes of passersby, with both of her own. Those who met her gaze became hers and they in turn plucked their left eyes out, ate them and spread the curse. In response, survivors blindfolded themselves and stared only at the ground and that is why ravens and left eyes are illegal.
SPOOKY SCARY SKELETONS
It was an abnormally clear day in the dreary abandoned town, that used to act as a haunted set in old movies. The eerie silence was relaxing especially now that the film crews were long gone. A spooky, scary, skeleton ran by in one the producer's rooms, singing, "Spooky, scary, skeletons," in a quiet whisper.
A man wearing a bad ass hat and an even more bad ass trench coat watched in the shadows. Shotgun at his side. He smirked and prepared to murder the skeleton - again!
He sprayed copper bullets at the air, except only one at a time because it was a shotgun. The man didn't realize that killing skeletons with bullets was kind of difficult. Anxiety crushed through his system as skeletons overran his personal space, increasing his anxiety. He looked bad ass, but skeletons could be his downfall.
Suddenly, the man was overcome with a sense of peace and wellness as if the skeletons were not messengers of doom, but they were as a welcoming party; reloading his shotgun smoothly, the man continued to attack, his assault speeding, and then in a spark of hope, he threw the gun and fled though the assault, crashing through in hopeful retreat.
The spooky scary skeletons were retreating peacefully too, looking so scared and cray-z, like Jay-z. The people living near by could see the chaos with telepathy. They were kind of like, meh. The man died but it was okay because he didn't even have a name. And no one ever believed that a place, even used for fictional horror, can ever truly be idyllic.
It was an abnormally clear day in the dreary abandoned town, that used to act as a haunted set in old movies. The eerie silence was relaxing especially now that the film crews were long gone. A spooky, scary, skeleton ran by in one the producer's rooms, singing, "Spooky, scary, skeletons," in a quiet whisper.
A man wearing a bad ass hat and an even more bad ass trench coat watched in the shadows. Shotgun at his side. He smirked and prepared to murder the skeleton - again!
He sprayed copper bullets at the air, except only one at a time because it was a shotgun. The man didn't realize that killing skeletons with bullets was kind of difficult. Anxiety crushed through his system as skeletons overran his personal space, increasing his anxiety. He looked bad ass, but skeletons could be his downfall.
Suddenly, the man was overcome with a sense of peace and wellness as if the skeletons were not messengers of doom, but they were as a welcoming party; reloading his shotgun smoothly, the man continued to attack, his assault speeding, and then in a spark of hope, he threw the gun and fled though the assault, crashing through in hopeful retreat.
The spooky scary skeletons were retreating peacefully too, looking so scared and cray-z, like Jay-z. The people living near by could see the chaos with telepathy. They were kind of like, meh. The man died but it was okay because he didn't even have a name. And no one ever believed that a place, even used for fictional horror, can ever truly be idyllic.
FLAMES AND DARKNESS
In the building, people were dwelling in a basement with kawaii trolls possessing kawaii chainsaws, but it all changed when the Fire Nation attacked. The building was burned to the ground, defiled by demonic flames. Thousands of years later, a single chainsaw was sighted at the building site, and darkness fell. A man by the name of Drale came to watch the building burn. Unintentionally of course, he wasn't insane. He saw the chainsaws those years later as n was determined to discover why it was the only thing within miles not burned to ashes. Consumed by a desire not his own in origin, his feet dragged magnetically toward the uncharred weapon, pulled against his will. Almost in a daze, he reached out, his bare hand dragged on the chainsaw; Almost in a vision he was being consumed by a searing fire, yet he could not scream out.
He survived and woke up as a satanic spooky, scary skeleton. The skeleton finished off the fire with his satanic, fat, bony hands. He walked off, not looking behind him, heard an explosion like Michael Bay outta no-where. Then he saw Randy Orton. But Randy Orton teleported with him to the realm of Shwinlorginfhrogmic. There were demonic flying tentacles firing the land and flames tore through the landscape. It was as though darkness incarnate had come alive.
The flames of darkness destroyed the world with no one to save them, no hero, not even a tragic hero. Nobody to save the town from resultant doom and ultimate ending. There was no one person to stand on the ashes of the charred planet, and no resolution was found. In the end the flames and darkness reigned eternal.
In the building, people were dwelling in a basement with kawaii trolls possessing kawaii chainsaws, but it all changed when the Fire Nation attacked. The building was burned to the ground, defiled by demonic flames. Thousands of years later, a single chainsaw was sighted at the building site, and darkness fell. A man by the name of Drale came to watch the building burn. Unintentionally of course, he wasn't insane. He saw the chainsaws those years later as n was determined to discover why it was the only thing within miles not burned to ashes. Consumed by a desire not his own in origin, his feet dragged magnetically toward the uncharred weapon, pulled against his will. Almost in a daze, he reached out, his bare hand dragged on the chainsaw; Almost in a vision he was being consumed by a searing fire, yet he could not scream out.
He survived and woke up as a satanic spooky, scary skeleton. The skeleton finished off the fire with his satanic, fat, bony hands. He walked off, not looking behind him, heard an explosion like Michael Bay outta no-where. Then he saw Randy Orton. But Randy Orton teleported with him to the realm of Shwinlorginfhrogmic. There were demonic flying tentacles firing the land and flames tore through the landscape. It was as though darkness incarnate had come alive.
The flames of darkness destroyed the world with no one to save them, no hero, not even a tragic hero. Nobody to save the town from resultant doom and ultimate ending. There was no one person to stand on the ashes of the charred planet, and no resolution was found. In the end the flames and darkness reigned eternal.