[CONTEST - COMPLETED] Horror Short Story

by **Little Tin Hat** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 2:17 am

Just as you thought it was safe to go out at night- Two reasons to stay in. That's halfway. Don't know whether to save them for later or read one now.To be honest I'm left a little unsettled by the Winters Grasp.

by **Heloin** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 10:41 am

Infected Mushroom wrote:Wow this was... How should I say...

The story was like putting my bare fingers against a metal pipe in a brick wall and then realising its stuck to the frost. Then when I pull my hand out I lose bits of flesh...

This story is COLD AF. I think nightmares are coming... (for a horror story contest, that is a good thing but my friend, this is slice of life psychopath edition)

But is the Marionette made partly of wood or is it entirely the corpse of Mary + bits and pieces from others? I'm just a bit confuse at the end. Actually, you know what, maybe you shouldn't tell me... I can still imagine the glass eyes...

This would make an excellent short movie or animation. I imagined that a very off-key/demented Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy variation was playing in the background starting from the restaurant scene.

Where do you get the inspiration for such True Darkness?

Again, good work!

Thanks!

As for a soundtrack I was listening to the Chulip soundtrack while writing so I can only think of using that. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pXEujFVdaIs

When I was growing up the ZBC only showed children's television on Saturday morning, the rest of the week were alot of imported American police procedurals and horror films. I saw Seven when I was like 5 and the Japanese Ring about a year after that. Or it's just that I really like Poe and Lovecraftian style works.

Thanks to everyone else to! The stories are looking great!

by **Sacara** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 8:18 pm

Right away when I copied this story from your telegram to my Google Docs, it seemed really long and I had to double check to make sure you stayed under the word count. However, it's just because you use a lot of line breaks, which isn't a big deal, just a style choice. Onto the actual story itself, I loved it. I love stories which have a twist ending that I can go back on my second or third reads and find foreshadowing I missed the first time. It really makes me feel good when bad people get what they deserve, and this story did a good job at that. Really liked it, IM. :clap:

Final Grade: 9.8/10

by **Sacara** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 8:29 pm

I don't know how long it has been. I don't have a lot of time left. I don't know what will happen when they all be trapped there, but it might affect others outside of town. All I can start with is that it began in that dreaded zoo. Years before it happened, it was just like any other zoo that can be found in a town. When the storms came, all of the animals nearly drowned and worst. After it became ruined, it just became the hideout for the kids who can drink and smoke in perfect harmony. Every now and then, a kid would bring a Playboy magazine to get things interesting. Stuff there was normal.

Until it happened.

A quick reminder. I'm at the age of a typical 14 year old, who got graduated from middle school. My parents are probably gone at the time of this message. I know you're thinking that it's odd that I'm typing this. But by the time I finish, no one is going to be safe. It's not some virus or act of God. It's more like something has caused things to go to hell in a hand basket, but then again, it could be demons. It started after Ricky, one of the other kids who frequented the spot was exploring the empty zoo. It was easy to get in there, as no one in town seemed to have plans on trying to renovate it. All that was needed was a hop over the chain-link fence and someone can just do whatever inside. Where this evil I'm about to tell you was in this storage shed made out of concrete with no windows and just a single door. Ricky must have noticed the door being slightly ajar, as he was the first one to enter. Now, all of the other kids knew where he was. When the sun was setting, the others thought that Ricky had headed home, since whenever they called out for him, there was no noise. Those who searched for him on the first day were lucky. They didn't check the shed.

The next morning, Ricky's brother who was much younger than Ricky said that his own parents seemed to not worry about what happened to their own son. Me and the others didn't believe it at first, until he brought us to his house. I can't describe what happened to his parents. When we got there, his parents were devoid of any emotion. Looking indifferent, as if they didn't seem to care that we were there. I watched Invasion of the Body Snatchers once and I can compare the body snatchers to Ricky's parents. They didn't seem to register any emotional response. I asked the mother that Ricky was missing to which she simply replied in an apathetic voice, "I know." Eventually, the police were involved, where Ricky's parents were interviewed. The police started to do a sweep of the town for Ricky. Even at the zoo, where everyone hung out. That was when it only got worst.

I remember getting a call from a fellow friend, who said that the police had simply didn't do their jobs. A robbery by some drifter happened at the drugstore, where even though there was an officer nearby, he managed to get the whole cash register, while the cop stood idly by. When the owner attempted to call for back-up, it took almost 20 minutes for a single cop to arrive. Rumors were already spreading that the cops apparently found Ricky, but they had simply lacked emotion. It was like a plague, almost. After that, the lack of security led to more kids going missing. Those who were their parents ended up in the same state. My parents attempted to get help from outside town, which took several hours, since our town was rural. It wasn't until the day after they left was when Pete arrived with some news. He explained that him and his friends were at the zoo, when they saw what looked like a kid that was missing. Discovering the storage shed, one of Pete's friends entered to see what was inside. There was immediate silence, as Pete thought that something had managed to silence the poor kid when he went inside. After getting a flashlight, Pete opened the door and shined inside the storage shed.

He tells me, he saw dozens, if not almost half the population of the town's kids inside the shed. They were all crowded around standing. All of them were staring at nothing. Staring at blank space. Pete's friend was in there, just as the rest of them. Another of Pete's friends who were outside the shed ran in to try to get one of the kids out of there. However, Pete said the moment they stepped in, it looked like they were unable to control their body. It looked like a wave of fatigue immediately struck though who entered. Their bodies immediately stop moving, as they end up as the human statues that were inside. I didn't believe it when Pete told me. But since I was the only one who knew something was wrong, I decided to have him show me as proof. As we got to the zoo, the place that was a hangout now gave off a sinister vibe. A simple hop over the fence and we both walked to the shed. I was planning on going into the shed, until Pete immediately put a hand on my shoulder, where I remembered about what happened in his story. Wanting to believe Pete, I took the flashlight that Pete had and shine it through the opening of the door.

Sure enough, he was right. I was surprised at first, since Pete was wrong about the amount of kids inside the shed. Pete said that it looked like there were about half the kids in the town that were in that shed. However, when I checked, it looked like a whole lot more. "We need to call the police." I said to him, until I remembered about what was happening to them. What if the police did found Ricky, but stepping into the room didn't cause them to become statues. But rather voyeurs. But how did Ricky's parents end up as voyeurs, also? Unless, what was happening was due to their hereditary being affected, since they were his birth parents. Too many questions that seemed to be answered were flooding my mind. Pete and I were about to leave. Until one of the kids from inside spoke.

From inside and from where the flashlight shined, a kid appeared looking scared. "Where am I? Please help. It hurts." the kid pleaded. Pete was about to enter, until he remembered about what would happen. "Please help me." the kid kept saying, till he started to walk over to the door. Was he not under the control of the room? As the kid was almost at the door, the kid extended his hand, trying to reach at Pete, where he stepped back. A scowl began to appear on the boy's face. The expression of a hunter enraged that his prey was about to escape to their annoyance. I was probably the first to hear the kid's arm breaking, as it was extending towards- Oh god - it managed to grab Pete and pull him in. I immediately started to run, where I can hear the boy screaming at me, "We can learn! You will be with us as one! We will skin you alive, while your mind rots, you filthy cub!" I was almost at the chain-link fence, where I turned to look at the shed one last time. The kid was outside, where he was smiling as far as his mouth can allow him. It looked like he was about to get himself a Glasgow smile from how far the muscles near his mouth were pulling apart from each other. I hopped the fence and immediately ran straight home.
I was a coward, as if those who were still not affected did and didn't believe me, they would have ended up at the shed. Of course, this is pointless, as whatever has happened in there has learned to extend it's grasp outside of the zoo. I heard several police cruisers speeding by, but I imagined that the effect from whatever was in the shed was now happening outside of the zoo, continuing to grow, as much as it could. I can hear banging from my front door. By now, they were going to burst inside. I guessing what will happen will make me a slave. Yet I hope what the entity that is controlling everyone will ease my pain. I'm sorry.

Don't go to the shed.

Don't go to the shed.

Go to the shed.

This. Was. Terrifying. When I envisioned this short story contest, I wanted to be startled, spooked, and terrified. This story did this for me. Simply, this story needs to be made into a short film or even a feature length one. I've seen and read a lot from the horror genre, and this one ranks up there with one of the best. Really, really well done.

Final Grade: 9.9/10

by **Sacara** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 8:57 pm

This story certainly was the most unique one entered. Usually, I'm not a fan of fantasy/futuristic ones such as this, but as I mentioned in an earlier review, I threw my biases out the window. With that aside, this story gave me anxiety. I hate being alone, and this story intensified it. Many people fear the dark because of what might be there, not because there is nothing there. This story takes a unique twist on a popular premise, and I'm glad to say it turned out well.

Final Grade: 9.2/10

by **Sacara** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 9:11 pm

That wraps it up folks! Congrats to Main Nation Ministry for taking first place, and Infected Mushroom for finishing as a runner-up! After a month's long writing process and grading (sorry for taking so long -- I got really busy these past two weeks!), we've finally reached the finish line!

I would like to take this time to thank everyone who submitted a story, and those who have taken an interest into this contest. This thread has over 2000 views, which is awesome, and over 100 comments! Feel free to discuss any of the stories published, any comments you having on my reviews, or just any suggestions! I would love to hear feedback.

Also, if there is sufficient interest, I'm thinking about hosting another contest, although not until January. I am looking for feedback if I should do that as well.

by **Infected Mushroom** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 10:46 pm

Sacara wrote:
It was raining slightly.

Alex was walking around with his wife Helen.

Alex wasn’t smiling. He had been happy once, not overly successful but at least decently happy. He had hopes and he had dreams.

Then he had made the biggest mistake of his life at a mere age 24; he got himself married.

There was an element of inevitability to it. Helen was the most beautiful woman he had ever dated and it was probably his only chance to be with someone this pretty. He vaguely remembered being issued an ultimatum two years ago: Marry Me or Leave. He chose wrong.

Unfortunately for him, Helen transformed into a different person after the marriage. The sweet, witty, loyal and fiercely spirited young woman disappeared, to be replaced by a new persona.

She ordered him around like a servant all the time. In conversation, she never hesitated to put him down, humiliate him, or insult his intelligence. She became obsessed with starting and running a new restaurant business and she insisted that nearly 100 percent of his income went to support that. And whatever Helen insisted, Helen got, otherwise, the degrees of hell would be turned up.

“Hey are you even listening to me?” Helen said to him, having just realized that he was somehow daydreaming or absent minded. “What is that useless mind of yours thinking about anyways?

“I… errr…. yeah you were right,” Alex replied listlessly. He guessed Helen was surely throwing another tirade about how the people couldn’t appreciate her restaurant.

“Well make sure you don’t actually zone out and walk into a car or something,” she said coldly. “I wouldn’t be surprised though.”

Then something caught his attention: in the intersection ahead, a red car was swerving around; clearly the driver had lost control of the car. It was headed… straight for an old lady crossing the street. She wasn’t aware of the threat; perhaps she was deaf.

“OH MY GOD!” Alex cried out as he sprinted ahead.

Alex got there fast enough. There was no time to be gentle so he tackled the frail old lady away from the road.

The red car drove past them. Soon, the vehicle was gone.

Helen rushed up to them. Alex was surprised to see her concerned.

Alex helped the old lady up.

“Well my good man,” she said to Alex. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“It’s nothing really haha,” Alex replied modestly.

“Tell you what,” she said to him. “I need to thank you both properly. Please come to my shop.”

“Actually,” Helen said impatiently. “We really need to be somewhere. I think we should-"

“I will give you a reward,” the old lady interrupted.

“Okay then,” Alex replied. “Why not? Haha. Let’s go then.”

…

They walked into a dingy little store in a relatively deserted neighborhood. The lights flickered and barely worked.

“Here let me show you,” the old lady said as she walked past a counter. She returned with a small box and two small slips of white paper in her hand.

“Do you know what this box is?” she asked them. “It’s a magical wishing box. My father stole it from a sorcerer in Inner Mongolia. He brought it here to America when he was finished with his expeditions.”

Well that’s something you don’t hear every day, Alex thought. He turned to look at Helen, who to his surprise, seemed very interested to hear the rest.

“I want to reward the both of you for saving my life,” she said. She handed them the slips of papers and each a pen. “Write down a wish on your slip of paper. The wish will come true within two days.”

Alex was highly skeptical but he decided to play along. What nonsense was this? Also, why the hell was Helen getting a wish too? As he was about to write, the old lady spoke again,

“Oh and make you DON’T show your wish to anyone or tell anyone what you wished for. Not even to each other. Otherwise it won’t work. Write your wish down, then give me the paper.”

Whatever. Alex wrote down his wish. He handed his paper to the old woman; Helen had already handed hers in.

The old lady stepped back. She put the two slips of papers into a small opening on top of the box.

“Then it is done,” she said simply. “Your wishes will come true. Remember, tell no one what you wished for.”

And with that, she hobbled off and disappeared into a room behind the counter.

…

A day later, Alex was standing around, guarding the deserted restaurant. Helen was somewhere in the back, watching television.

Suddenly, he heard Helen scream out loud: “OH MY GOD! OH MY GAWWWWWWWWWWWD!”

His heart racing, Alex rushed into the backroom where Helen was jumping up and down in front of a television screen.

“What is it?” Alex asked.

Helen turned to face him, her face filled with joy. “I WON! The lottery numbers are PERFECT! I got all six numbers!”

Alex was dumbstruck.

“MY WISH CAME TRUE!” she yelled at him. “I wrote on the paper that I wanted to be Rich As A Lannister!”

Alex was still trying to process all of this. “Wait… when did you buy this?”

“Just today at noon,” she replied, still jumping up and down.

“And so… … how much?”

“Ninety-seven million FUCKING DOLLARS!”

“Jesus….” Alex could not believe it. He could not believe it.

…

Soon after Helen had Alex call up all of their friends and relatives nearby for a big party celebration at their house.

In the middle of the celebrations, Alex and Helen found themselves alone in the kitchen.

Alex wasn’t as joyous as he should be. In fact, he looked a bit uneasy. Helen hadn’t really noticed though.

“Hey Alex,” she said cheerfully. “Can you pour the Coke please? I think that’s six cups counting Felicie and me.”

Alex opened the fridge and got to work. Then he decided he had to say something.

“Hey err Helen,” he said nervously to her. “I… I think I should probably tell you what I wished for.”

“Wait LET ME GUESS!” she cried out. “You wished for my restaurant to succeed? That would be SO SWEET!”

“No actually,” Alex said hurriedly. “It wasn’t that. I actually-“

“Don’t say it out loud you idiot,” she said to him sternly. “Otherwise it won’t come true. Surprise me.”

“Well the thing is,” he said nervously as he started to pour the Coke. “The thing is… I kind of regret my wish and I think it might be-“

“YOU IDIOT!” she screamed at him, her attention suddenly on the glasses of Coke he was pouring.

“How many TIMES Alex? HOW MANY TIMES?!” she yelled at him. “You need to put COASTERS under the glasses otherwise… IT COULD CAUSE A MESS!”

Alex resisted the urge to sigh.

“You can be a REAL idiot sometimes Alex,” she said to him coldly as she let herself out of the room to re-join the party.

…

The party was extremely loud and obnoxious. The electronic dance music had been turned to an extremely high volume as thirty or so people “danced” around, not really knowing what they were doing. The smell of alcohol, weed, and junk foods soon permeated the entire house.

…

In the middle of the party, Helen walked into the basement to take out the clothes.

Helen walked into the laundry room. She knelt down to open the machine’s door. Then she heard a noise behind her. Frowning, she stood up and turned around. A very tall figure stood in the hall. He was covered from head to toe in a very dark cloak. His face was completely covered up by a blood red mask. There was an object he was holding in his leather-gloved right hand; it was a large gleaming knife.

Helen froze in shock and terror as her pulse skyrocketed. It couldn’t be Alex, nor anyone else at the party. No one was THIS tall.

“Who… who are you?” she asked. “W…wait…”

It all happened very fast. The cloaked figure strode right up to her and plunged the knife into her.

Helen gasped. Then she looked down… the large gleaming knife had been inserted straight into her chest.

…

Alex danced around in the living room to the tune of the dub step music, waving his hands around and making weird faces. All around him, people clapped, and cheered.

The music was so loud it blocked out what was happening downstairs…

…

The walls of the laundry room were sprayed with dark red. The surface of the washing machine was splashed with red.

The hooded figure knelt over the dying woman. Helen wasn’t quite dead but somehow she couldn’t scream anymore.

He was still plunging the knife into different parts of her, over and over and over… the knife made a very sickening sound every time it entered her.

The last thing Helen saw was the blood red mask of the attacker.
…
The rest of the party was a bit of a blur. Alex had passed out during the party from drinking too much. Soon after, the police woke him up and informed him that Helen was murdered in the basement. Apparently an intruder had broken into the basement by breaking in through a small window slit and then escaped.

The police were baffled by the crime. They couldn’t figure it out. Alex couldn’t have been the murderer because he was upstairs partying like a moron while his wife was killed… And on a lottery win day too. Strange.
…
A few weeks later, Alex walked into his own kitchen. He was now ninety-seven million dollars minus taxes richer. However, the death of Helen also hung over him. After all, it was technically his fault that she was dead.

“Please Make Helen Die” was what he had written on that piece of paper.

Alex sat by the counter and poured himself a glass of Coke.

He realized that he had placed a coaster under the glass.

NO! NOT THIS TIME!

He pulled the coaster out from under the glass. A mischievous expression on his face, he defiantly hurled the coaster across the room. The coaster made a splattering sound as it hit the fridge before sliding down to the floor.

Then he turned to the glass of Coke.

“It could cause a mess,” he said to the glass, chuckling darkly.

Something in him finally clicked into place. He realized how he felt. It was time to start his new life. No more crying over the mistakes of his past. The entire world would be his for the taking now. It was time for a new beginning: a new Alex, a new world.

Right away when I copied this story from your telegram to my Google Docs, it seemed really long and I had to double check to make sure you stayed under the word count. However, it's just because you use a lot of line breaks, which isn't a big deal, just a style choice. Onto the actual story itself, I loved it. I love stories which have a twist ending that I can go back on my second or third reads and find foreshadowing I missed the first time. It really makes me feel good when bad people get what they deserve, and this story did a good job at that. Really liked it, IM.

Final Grade: 9.8/10

Thank you! I'm glad you liked it.

By the way, the word limit was a real battle. But here's some of the stuff that I had originally wanted to include but got left out:

1. The story as it progressed to its conclusion in the present time was supposed to be interwoven with flashbacks to how Alex and Helen met, how Helen had once stood up for Alex in front of Alex's family (his family did not approve of her, ironically thinking she was rude), and how it all deteriorated (I don't know if this is a good idea or not, it would have added a tragic feel to the story but it may have taken away from the punch due to the increased sympathy levels for Helen, it would have been a risk)

2. There was supposed to be a longer description of the store and the old lady herself was supposed to appear more creepy with a more detailed description. The wish box itself was supposed to include a trick with green light and smoke (instead, the final draft settled for minimalism here)

3. Félicite Delacroix from the NSG thread Party Gone South was supposed to actually appear at the party in a scene and chat with Alex, showing some superficial interest in him now that he's with a lottery winner. (this was instead truncated to a one line reference of her presence at the party from Helen when Alex is pouring coke)

4. The murder scene itself was supposed to be longer and more gruesome (instead I shortened it and opted to interweave it with scenes of the party and Alex being high for discordant contrast)

5. The police interrogating Alex was supposed to make up a whole sub-chapter. There was supposed to be a female police officer character who has the instinct that Alex has something to do with Helen's death but cannot prove it.

6. There was supposed to be a very long sequence after the party of Alex attending the funeral and feeling actually devastated (without the reveal of the wish yet). He would have some conversations with sympathetic friends. However, these feelings would disappear once he returned to the kitchen.

7. After throwing the coaster and making the dark comment about "the mess," Alex was supposed to stand up, walk a few paces, and then erupt into Kira/Light Yagami style Maniacal Final Laughter (this was cut out because of word count and also because I felt it would take the camp effect too far); but its hard to resist the urge to pay some homage to Death Note

I think it might be better in this condensed final version. Some of the stuff, had it been added, may have taken away from the briefness but to the point effect of the 1800 word version.

by **Sacara** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 10:51 pm

Infected Mushroom wrote:Thank you! I'm glad you liked it.

By the way, the word limit was a real battle. But here's some of the stuff that I had originally wanted to include but got left out:

1. The story as it progressed to its conclusion in the present time was supposed to be interwoven with flashbacks to how Alex and Helen met, how Helen had once stood up for Alex in front of Alex's family (his family did not approve of her, ironically thinking she was rude), and how it all deteriorated (I don't know if this is a good idea or not, it would have added a tragic feel to the story but it may have taken away from the punch due to the increased sympathy levels for Helen, it would have been a risk)

2. There was supposed to be a longer description of the store and the old lady herself was supposed to appear more creepy with a more detailed description. The wish box itself was supposed to include a trick with green light and smoke (instead, the final draft settled for minimalism here)

3. Félicite Delacroix from the NSG thread Party Gone South was supposed to actually appear at the party in a scene and chat with Alex, showing some superficial interest in him now that he's with a lottery winner. (this was instead truncated to a one line reference of her presence at the party from Helen when Alex is pouring coke)

4. The murder scene itself was supposed to be longer and more gruesome (instead I shortened it and opted to interweave it with scenes of the party and Alex being high for discordant contrast)

5. There was supposed to be a very long sequence after the party of Alex attending the funeral and feeling actually devastated (without the reveal of the wish yet). He would have some conversations with sympathetic friends. However, these feelings would disappear once he returned to the kitchen.

6. After throwing the coaster and making the dark comment about "the mess," Alex was supposed to stand up, walk a few paces, and then erupt into Kira/Light Yagami style Maniacal Final Laughter (this was cut out because of word count and also because I felt it would take the camp effect too far); but its hard to resist the urge to pay some homage to Death Note

I think it might be better in this condensed final version. Some of the stuff, had it been added, may have taken away from the briefness but to the point effect of the 1800 word version.

A couple things that I think would've made your story stronger, and ultimately in first place:

I would've liked to see more during the murder scene. As you stated, make it more gruesome and add more details.
I would've really enjoyed your number five being implemented. Honestly, if it were, your story probably would've won. It was really close between yours and Main Nation Ministry's, and that ending would've definitely put it over the edge.

Overall, your story was very good.

EDIT: Would you be interested if I hosted another short story contest, perhaps in January or February? I think I would up the limit to the limit to either 2200 or 2500, if I were to do it again.

by **Infected Mushroom** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 10:53 pm

Sacara wrote:
It was cold. Colder than any night that he had experienced yet on top of his icy prison. The Winter’s grasp latched around the man’s body and squeezed like the vice of an anaconda. It was the type of cold that cut to your very soul. The man reached one shaky hand over to the set of 10 logs next to the fire, placed two into the pit, and used a stiff and half frozen billow to give brief life to the fire.

The man reached out to the side of him as he sat on the old and weathered brown rug to a tiny worn leather wallet. He picked it up and flipped it open with his cold and withered hands. He opened the wallet to a small set of photographs just next to his now long expired driver’s license. The man scratched the dried and cracked crimson off of the surface of the smooth plastic to take one look at his beautiful wife Trish and his wonderful daughter Sadie. The man could feel a salty saline tear inch out of his eye and down his cheek as it seemed to freeze as it traced its way down his worn and tired face, finally resting on the bristle of his ragged brown beard. How weird how three years can change a man. Can change a family. Can bring them to this point.

The man’s stomach gurgled as he peered longingly into the photograph. He was hungry. He knew if he didn’t eat soon, he would be in trouble.

The man stood up. His joints screamed and wailed in agony as they popped, and strained to support his own weight. With one final pop of his back as he stretched himself skywards he stepped away from the last relief of the fireplace and into the cold and uninviting kitchen. He had grown to hate this place more and more over the past couple of weeks. It was an awful room, barren and devoid of life. He stepped over the dried crimson stain on the ground that extended to the island in the center of the kitchen towards the old and warn once white refridgerator that was now stained yellow with grime and time.

He opened the refrigerator door to see Trish’s face starring back at him. Her mouth hung agape and her eyes had began to shrivel in their head from the exposure of the refrigerator. Some muscle and sinew still clung to the bottom of her decapitated neck, some of the blood, dripped and collected in a tub of her organs underneath. His wife’s muscles, arms, legs, and torso had been hacked up and partitioned off to be eaten quickly as they were what would give him the most protein.

The man had hated himself every time he opened the fridge and looked at his lovely wife’s lifeless face. He had loved her, he had cared for her for ten years. She had stayed with him through thick and thin and even when he came home that faithful day and told her of the trouble that would befall his family, she understood and came with him into the wilderness to hide from the men that would come for them. He even knew that she would understand when they ran out of food on the third day. He and Sadie couldn’t be found shriveled and dead in a heap in the corner. So even though she pleaded with him and cried and begged him not to do it. He knew that Trish really wanted him to do it. He knew Trish wanted to provide for the family by any means necessary. So when he plunged his wood cutting axe into her neck and she choked on her blood as he looked at him, he knew they were not eyes of betrayal but eyes of love. They were eyes of understanding. Eyes that knew what their purpose was, to keep he and Sadie alive.
It was a shame that Sadie saw it. She wasn’t meant to see it. She was just becoming a young woman. She didn’t need to see that or know where the meat came from. He did understand when she ran from the cabin. He didn’t chase her. He knew she would come back when the wind became too cold. But as the days went by he was certain that his daughter had met a grizzly fate out in the woods and he was now all alone.

The man took a piece of what was once Trish’s arm out of the fridge, it flopped, and struck the still intact pelvis of his wife on the bottom of the shelf that made it roll out onto the kitchen floor. The man quickly scooped it up and put it back into the refrigerator with a sigh of relief. The pelvis would certainly be last. After all, he was sure Trish would understand that a man had… needs. Needs that she would happily serve even into death.

He picked up the piece of muscle and a cast iron skillet and brought it to the still burning flames. He dropped the piece of Trish’s arm into the skillet and placed the skillet into the flames. The muscle began to cook and change color as the succulent and sweet aroma of cooking meat wafted into the man’s nostrils. It was heavenly. As if angels had kissed his nostrils gently with the smell of dinner wafted through the cabin, filling it with life. Sure the snow still stung outside and hell still waited him. But for now he would eat like a king for one more night.

The meat was still rare when he took the skillet off the fire and the man picked it up with his hands and began to dig in, eating like a savage animal as he ripped the muscle piece and piece. It was wonderful, almost orgasmic as the meat of his wife slipped down his gullet and into his stomach. He always said she was so pretty, he just wanted to take a bite out of her. He did not think it would be so literal. But he was overjoyed none the less.

“You are delicious Trish! Thank you! He exclaimed as a piece of stringy meat flopped over his chapped lips and became entangled in his ragged beard.

SLAM! A noise deafening, loud, and true rang out from the kitchen of the house. The man stopped in his tracks. And laid the pink meat back onto the skillet. The backdoor was in the kitchen, surely it had come loose from the bitter and cold wind. The man stood up and walked to the kitchen again where the door hung open, banging gently against the wooden walls of the cabin. The man strode quickly to the door and closed it. He attempted to push the silver latch into its deadbolt home. But was sad to find that the wind had ripped it from the wall. Thinking quickly the man rushed into the living room and grabbed a small block of wood, a hammer, and a set of nails from a toolbox he kept behind the couch. He hammered the piece of wood into the wall, closing the door successfully.

CREAK! CREAK! CREAK! The rthymic creaking entered his ears and rose the hairs on his back. That was not the wind. Something was in here. Something was in the house with him.

“Hello?!” The man cried out, his eyes wide and darting.

Silence.

“It… It must be an animal!” The man said attempting to reassure himself. But wait… An animal meant food. Food for him that could keep him alive for a few more days and a few days longer he had with his lovely wife Trish.

Seeing opportunity flash before his eyes, the man ran around the house like a mad man. He needed a weapon. He needed something to kill the tiny creature so he could feast on its flesh. But what? The axe he used on Trish he left outside when he was last chopping wood. The hammer? Maybe. But that might damage the body. No, he needed something sharp…

Suddenly it dawned on him, the kitchen knife! He stopped at the kitchen sink and pulled the rusted kitchen knife from the sink, its blade still stained from when he was removing the meat from Trish’s bones. He turned around and peered around the room, his eyes like a hunter as they darted from place to place.

CREAK! CREAK! CREAK! The man turned to look at the bedroom. His and Trish’s bedroom that they had shared before she had to be butchered to provide for him and his daughter Sadie. The door hung open slightly for the first time since he had had his last intimate session with his wife only three days prior.

“GOT YOU!” He screamed as he sprinted towards the door, flinging it open as his mouth began to water.

But when he opened the door the sight was something that he could not describe. Standing in the door frame was a horrific beast. It stood nearly six feet tall as its glowing red eyes starred through his very soul. Its horns extended upward to the heavens and its legs looked as if they were bent inward at the knee. The hands looked cold, uninviting and other worldly. The man knew what this was… This was no animal. This was the devil himself, here to collect his due.

The man dropped to his knees, the knife dropped to the ground limply next to him. “Oh no…” he murmered softly. “No… I… I am so sorry…” He said weakly as he starred into the cold dead eyes of the beast. “Pe…. Pe… Please…” The man groveled at the beasts lifeless feet “I… I did this for Sadie… for me… So that we could survive! Don’t you understand?! We needed to survive!” The man cried and begged and prayed for the first time in years for the devil to forgive him.

But the devil’s eyes lacked compassion for the man. They lacked love. They lacked understanding. There was only cold, lifeless hate left in them.

It was then that the man felt Winter’s Grasp once again, deep within his chest, in his very soul. The man coughed loudly as blood splattered the ground in front of him. His chest burned, but burned cold as he looked down to see his very own axe buried deep within his chest. The man’s vision blurred and shifted in and out of a hazy blackness as he looked up. The devil stepped into focus and he could see the Devil was the face of his very own daughter starring back at him. Her freckled cheeks were red and chaffed as skin peeled from them. Her eyes, were green and full of hate. She wore the head of what looked to be a large deer that hung over her ears and her body was covered in various animal pelts.
Sadie grabbed the handle of the axe and ripped it out of the man’s chest. The man could feel the blood fill his esophagus and lungs as he began to choke and cry. Blood sprayed out of his mouth over Sadie’s snow-covered feet.

The man coughed and looked up at the cold eyes of the Devil as she leered down at him. “STOP… Stop wearin….. m’ daughter’s face you monster……..!” He cried weakly at her. But he did not. The Sadie Devil only looked at him with hate… A hate he hoped to never see from his daughter.

She raised the axe high into the air! “This is for mom!” She said defiantly. “I hope you rot in hell Dad! You son of a BITCH!” The last image that the man saw before the world slipped away into the blackness was the axe connecting with his forehead and blood showering his daughter as he felt his head split in two.

My, this was a really great story! You did an exceptional job at building the world in which the story takes place, and I really enjoy the backstory. There is some adult content in there, however, that doesn't bother me nor does it detract from the story at hand. My only critique is the ending... I really wasn't a fan, but I suppose that is subjective. It was... different, but I really didn't stomach it well. Otherwise, I really, really liked the story!

Final Grade: 9.4/10

@Free Zone Isles

This is probably the most gruesome of all of the stories, the gore factor is through the roof! Good job!

By the way, I imagined that the main character looked like a psychotic version of Joel from Last of Us.

Did you see the 2017 British horror film The Ritual? It features a monster/evil deity in the woods that somewhat resembles your antler-like demon. Though your version is far far scarier...

by **Infected Mushroom** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 10:54 pm

Sacara wrote:
Infected Mushroom wrote:Thank you! I'm glad you liked it.

By the way, the word limit was a real battle. But here's some of the stuff that I had originally wanted to include but got left out:

1. The story as it progressed to its conclusion in the present time was supposed to be interwoven with flashbacks to how Alex and Helen met, how Helen had once stood up for Alex in front of Alex's family (his family did not approve of her, ironically thinking she was rude), and how it all deteriorated (I don't know if this is a good idea or not, it would have added a tragic feel to the story but it may have taken away from the punch due to the increased sympathy levels for Helen, it would have been a risk)

2. There was supposed to be a longer description of the store and the old lady herself was supposed to appear more creepy with a more detailed description. The wish box itself was supposed to include a trick with green light and smoke (instead, the final draft settled for minimalism here)

3. Félicite Delacroix from the NSG thread Party Gone South was supposed to actually appear at the party in a scene and chat with Alex, showing some superficial interest in him now that he's with a lottery winner. (this was instead truncated to a one line reference of her presence at the party from Helen when Alex is pouring coke)

4. The murder scene itself was supposed to be longer and more gruesome (instead I shortened it and opted to interweave it with scenes of the party and Alex being high for discordant contrast)

5. There was supposed to be a very long sequence after the party of Alex attending the funeral and feeling actually devastated (without the reveal of the wish yet). He would have some conversations with sympathetic friends. However, these feelings would disappear once he returned to the kitchen.

6. After throwing the coaster and making the dark comment about "the mess," Alex was supposed to stand up, walk a few paces, and then erupt into Kira/Light Yagami style Maniacal Final Laughter (this was cut out because of word count and also because I felt it would take the camp effect too far); but its hard to resist the urge to pay some homage to Death Note

I think it might be better in this condensed final version. Some of the stuff, had it been added, may have taken away from the briefness but to the point effect of the 1800 word version.
A couple things that I think would've made your story stronger, and ultimately in first place:
I would've liked to see more during the murder scene. As you stated, make it more gruesome and add more details.
I would've really enjoyed your number five being implemented. Honestly, if it were, your story probably would've won. It was really close between yours and Main Nation Ministry's, and that ending would've definitely put it over the edge.
Overall, your story was very good.

EDIT: Would you be interested if I hosted another short story contest, perhaps in January or February? I think I would up the limit to the limit to either 2200 or 2500, if I were to do it again.

thanks for the feedback

I would be interested in future story contests, what do you have in mind for the future theme of the contest?

by **Main Nation Ministry** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 10:58 pm

Infected Mushroom wrote:
Sacara wrote:A couple things that I think would've made your story stronger, and ultimately in first place:
I would've liked to see more during the murder scene. As you stated, make it more gruesome and add more details.
I would've really enjoyed your number five being implemented. Honestly, if it were, your story probably would've won. It was really close between yours and Main Nation Ministry's, and that ending would've definitely put it over the edge.
Overall, your story was very good.

EDIT: Would you be interested if I hosted another short story contest, perhaps in January or February? I think I would up the limit to the limit to either 2200 or 2500, if I were to do it again.

thanks for the feedback

I would be interested in future story contests, what do you have in mind for the future theme of the contest?

I'm interested in doing future horror story contests, also. I'm surprised that my own story did well, actually.

by **Sacara** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 11:00 pm

Perhaps the next one is another Horror Short Story, but I make the premise more defined? Such as a specific subgenre to horror?

by **Main Nation Ministry** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 11:03 pm

Sacara wrote:Perhaps the next one is another Horror Short Story, but I make the premise more defined? Such as a specific subgenre to horror?

I do have a bit of an idea, perhaps a requirement on the type of twist in the end, maybe?

by **Infected Mushroom** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 11:12 pm

Main Nation Ministry wrote:
Infected Mushroom wrote:
thanks for the feedback

I would be interested in future story contests, what do you have in mind for the future theme of the contest?

I'm interested in doing future horror story contests, also. I'm surprised that my own story did well, actually.

Congratulations!

I like how it has a Stephen King/IT kind of feel at first

But it’s way darker

by **Shwe Tu Colony** » Mon Dec 10, 2018 11:40 pm

Sacara wrote:This story certainly was the most unique one entered. Usually, I'm not a fan of fantasy/futuristic ones such as this, but as I mentioned in an earlier review, I threw my biases out the window. With that aside, this story gave me anxiety. I hate being alone, and this story intensified it. Many people fear the dark because of what might be there, not because there is nothing there. This story takes a unique twist on a popular premise, and I'm glad to say it turned out well.

Final Grade: 9.2/10

Aight let's see what I remember from my hours of thinking for this affair.

Starting off, my original plan was something based off of this image, but then I decided not to. Anyway one of the things that was intended to be "unsettling" was how desperate D'aillisioux is for something, begging for even something frightening or deadly to just appear. Now, when I submitted this, I offhandedly mentioned something about a cheap shot, & that's D'aillisioux's age. Physically & mentally, he's only a preteen for reasons to be revealed, but as someone else said I ought to stop writing shonen manga :U. Regardless of his age, though, it's established in prior Shwe Tu canon that there's things that are very, very unpleasant to encounter, especially for D'aillisioux, who's haunted by his former master as seen in the two posts (the content may be stowed away in a spoiler). He's begging for something, even something like that, to tell him he's not alone. Only, he really is alone. He doesn't need something else to torture him for once. Nothing else is enough here.

There's one key difference between the rest of the Containment Bay & indeed D'aillisioux's world versus the Boiler Room, & that's that there isn't anything inside the Boiler Room aside from the water boilers which probably symbolize the various cathartic ways that D'aillisioux expresses his negativity, since they're boiling water & letting it become steam to rise upward (if any of you guys have an interpreation without context just feed it to me & I can weave it back with context, I'm sure). Anyway, because of the pretty much omnipresent evil spirits, a lot of inexplicable & stupid things happen so something absurd like everything disappearing or a random malevolent spirit fight isn't too unusual. That's why natives from the Shwe world are often so paranoid: they expect something to happen at all times, Psytrines & Thryllasians like D'aillisioux & Sekka especially because they do some of the most dangerous things like exploring the Psytrine Containment Bay in its modern incarnation.

Anyway, what will probably soon be one of the most significant points in my writing will be the capitalization of the word doll. In the Shwe world where this submission was set in, a doll is a thing, but a Doll is a person. Both he & Benjamin Gallo from another submission are the two characters most concerned by this distinction. For D'aillisioux, he was treated as an object, nothing more than a servant or slave, & it's still carried over into his current state. He didn't want to go explore the Boiler Room because he's just a coward overall, but he's more concerned with trying to please Sekka that he'd gladly go through the Boiler Room knowing very well, based on the other areas in the Psytrine Containment Bay, that the entire lab is one of the most unpleasant & horrific out of his world because of the multiple strains of infections present in it. Expeditions into it are highly dangerous just because everyone has a high risk of succumbing to the infections' influence, which has various undesirable effects.

The Boiler Room was only recently discovered, & something that the Psytrines responsible for it noticed was that a person couldn't enter without becoming very uneasy, especially with the fog & the pattern of movement forced by the water boilers, until by chance D'aillisioux was taken to visit it. Unlike the others, he did not feel that same unease aside from his own innately skittish nature & fear of cold materials, like the concrete of the Boiler Room itself. Course, once he gets cut off from Sekka, he starts panicking in full force. Being an assassin, he's doubtlessly been alone for some of his operations, but not quite as isolated as in this story. It's exacerbated by the barrier in his way, which had given him a glimpse of Sekka & Jefferson, not that it mattered. He could still see them, but not the other way around, & for him that accentuates his isolation, especially because again of his past. He could see others, but they couldn't see his own suffering, which is why he had to endure ten years in his prior occupation before escaping. Seeing Sekka & Jefferson through that barrier, for him, was the same.

I think that I intended to say a bit more, but it looks like I've forgotten. I was trying to multitask writing this post out & poking the guild boss in one of my games ~~knowing very well that my efforts would be wasted because my guild is full of skrubs~~.

by **Little Tin Hat** » Tue Dec 11, 2018 4:49 am

After all that you can now at least put tinsel on the turkey. Hopefully, getting this out of the way puts you in the festive mood or at least for a stiff drink or two?

I came across a book with a similar theme to Marionette whilst browsing through events at the loca Uni- https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/ ... awi-review

You've probably no about it- if not...

by **Infected Mushroom** » Tue Dec 11, 2018 7:22 am

Little Tin Hat wrote:After all that you can now at least put tinsel on the turkey. Hopefully, getting this out of the way puts you in the festive mood or at least for a stiff drink or two?

Just hopefully not with Sean

by **Little Tin Hat** » Tue Dec 11, 2018 5:31 pm

Sacara wrote:Perhaps the next one is another Horror Short Story, but I make the premise more defined? Such as a specific subgenre to horror?

You could tried doing something in some sort of flash fiction formathttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flash_fiction if you're going for horror again?

by **Infected Mushroom** » Wed Dec 12, 2018 8:21 pm

I like contests like this

All the stories were very good

I can still visualize all of them in my head and they all play a bit differently

by **Infected Mushroom** » Thu Dec 20, 2018 2:19 pm

Shwe Tu Colony wrote:
Sacara wrote:This story certainly was the most unique one entered. Usually, I'm not a fan of fantasy/futuristic ones such as this, but as I mentioned in an earlier review, I threw my biases out the window. With that aside, this story gave me anxiety. I hate being alone, and this story intensified it. Many people fear the dark because of what might be there, not because there is nothing there. This story takes a unique twist on a popular premise, and I'm glad to say it turned out well.

Final Grade: 9.2/10

Aight let's see what I remember from my hours of thinking for this affair.

Starting off, my original plan was something based off of this image, but then I decided not to. Anyway one of the things that was intended to be "unsettling" was how desperate D'aillisioux is for something, begging for even something frightening or deadly to just appear. Now, when I submitted this, I offhandedly mentioned something about a cheap shot, & that's D'aillisioux's age. Physically & mentally, he's only a preteen for reasons to be revealed, but as someone else said I ought to stop writing shonen manga :U. Regardless of his age, though, it's established in prior Shwe Tu canon that there's things that are very, very unpleasant to encounter, especially for D'aillisioux, who's haunted by his former master as seen in the two posts (the content may be stowed away in a spoiler). He's begging for something, even something like that, to tell him he's not alone. Only, he really is alone. He doesn't need something else to torture him for once. Nothing else is enough here.

There's one key difference between the rest of the Containment Bay & indeed D'aillisioux's world versus the Boiler Room, & that's that there isn't anything inside the Boiler Room aside from the water boilers which probably symbolize the various cathartic ways that D'aillisioux expresses his negativity, since they're boiling water & letting it become steam to rise upward (if any of you guys have an interpreation without context just feed it to me & I can weave it back with context, I'm sure). Anyway, because of the pretty much omnipresent evil spirits, a lot of inexplicable & stupid things happen so something absurd like everything disappearing or a random malevolent spirit fight isn't too unusual. That's why natives from the Shwe world are often so paranoid: they expect something to happen at all times, Psytrines & Thryllasians like D'aillisioux & Sekka especially because they do some of the most dangerous things like exploring the Psytrine Containment Bay in its modern incarnation.

Anyway, what will probably soon be one of the most significant points in my writing will be the capitalization of the word doll. In the Shwe world where this submission was set in, a doll is a thing, but a Doll is a person. Both he & Benjamin Gallo from another submission are the two characters most concerned by this distinction. For D'aillisioux, he was treated as an object, nothing more than a servant or slave, & it's still carried over into his current state. He didn't want to go explore the Boiler Room because he's just a coward overall, but he's more concerned with trying to please Sekka that he'd gladly go through the Boiler Room knowing very well, based on the other areas in the Psytrine Containment Bay, that the entire lab is one of the most unpleasant & horrific out of his world because of the multiple strains of infections present in it. Expeditions into it are highly dangerous just because everyone has a high risk of succumbing to the infections' influence, which has various undesirable effects.

The Boiler Room was only recently discovered, & something that the Psytrines responsible for it noticed was that a person couldn't enter without becoming very uneasy, especially with the fog & the pattern of movement forced by the water boilers, until by chance D'aillisioux was taken to visit it. Unlike the others, he did not feel that same unease aside from his own innately skittish nature & fear of cold materials, like the concrete of the Boiler Room itself. Course, once he gets cut off from Sekka, he starts panicking in full force. Being an assassin, he's doubtlessly been alone for some of his operations, but not quite as isolated as in this story. It's exacerbated by the barrier in his way, which had given him a glimpse of Sekka & Jefferson, not that it mattered. He could still see them, but not the other way around, & for him that accentuates his isolation, especially because again of his past. He could see others, but they couldn't see his own suffering, which is why he had to endure ten years in his prior occupation before escaping. Seeing Sekka & Jefferson through that barrier, for him, was the same.

I think that I intended to say a bit more, but it looks like I've forgotten. I was trying to multitask writing this post out & poking the guild boss in one of my games ~~knowing very well that my efforts would be wasted because my guild is full of skrubs~~.

Really really cool

You mean you have a mini series/other stories involving the characters you used?

I could visualize your story in my head. All the characters looked kind of futiristic/anime ish

Cool story!

Loneliness is terrible

by **Infected Mushroom** » Thu Dec 20, 2018 2:20 pm

Little Tin Hat wrote:
Sacara wrote:Perhaps the next one is another Horror Short Story, but I make the premise more defined? Such as a specific subgenre to horror?

You could tried doing something in some sort of flash fiction formathttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flash_fiction if you're going for horror again?

That’s interesting, your a fan of the genre?

by **Main Nation Ministry** » Thu Dec 20, 2018 4:35 pm

Maybe we should start another contest, but prefers after Christmas?

by **Shwe Tu Colony** » Thu Dec 20, 2018 8:14 pm

Infected Mushroom wrote:You mean you have a mini series/other stories involving the characters you used?

Yes. Jefferson is the Domeses of Research & the Mind (technically two distinct titles but it's not important) who shows up when fun new things are present in order to learn as much as he can. Sekka is the head of economics of Parfuhmerie & is sometimes thought of as its de facto leader just because his citizens love him that much. ~~Deli Meats~~ D'aillisioux is an assassin of Parfuhmerie & can technically be considered a child soldier (as someone else told me, stop writing shonen :U) but Sekka justifies it by saying that he's gone through enough that he can survive the potential trauma of being an assassin, he's a Doll & therefore age is considered a bit weirdly, & because the rest of the Assassin's Guild initially tried to get rid of him when he first came but as seen in his interactions he considers himself subservient to anyone else, so they had to let him stay since he'd insist of repaying his debt to them even when it was clear they gave him no obligation to.

Infected Mushroom wrote:I could visualize your story in my head. All the characters looked kind of futiristic/anime ish

Sekka & Jefferson both have some robotic aspects to their appearance & D'aillisioux wears some sort of kimono & truly excessive amounts of clothing, though it's not necessarily flamboyant clothing. That said, I do often cite animesque artwork for my character designs, which I do consider kind of a bad habit I'd like to get rid of to some degree in the future, only issue being that I do seem to have a genuine bias against the western style of fantasy & ones towards the eastern style. I'm guessing it might be because the latter is more foreign & thus more exotic & desirable to me, but also when comparing something like Heroes of Might and Magic or Age of Mythology to something like Dark Souls, Shin Megami Tensei, or Kingdom Hearts, I feel like the latter Asian-made games are slightly more abstract. They're less so epic odysseys, I'd say, & more so just journeys, & I think that appeals to me more.

Infected Mushroom wrote:Loneliness is terrible

I am mildly afraid of being alone, for that matter, but not to the degree that D'aillisioux was.

by **Infected Mushroom** » Thu Dec 20, 2018 8:53 pm

Shwe Tu Colony wrote:
Infected Mushroom wrote:You mean you have a mini series/other stories involving the characters you used?

Yes. Jefferson is the Domeses of Research & the Mind (technically two distinct titles but it's not important) who shows up when fun new things are present in order to learn as much as he can. Sekka is the head of economics of Parfuhmerie & is sometimes thought of as its de facto leader just because his citizens love him that much. ~~Deli Meats~~ D'aillisioux is an assassin of Parfuhmerie & can technically be considered a child soldier (as someone else told me, stop writing shonen :U) but Sekka justifies it by saying that he's gone through enough that he can survive the potential trauma of being an assassin, he's a Doll & therefore age is considered a bit weirdly, & because the rest of the Assassin's Guild initially tried to get rid of him when he first came but as seen in his interactions he considers himself subservient to anyone else, so they had to let him stay since he'd insist of repaying his debt to them even when it was clear they gave him no obligation to.

Infected Mushroom wrote:I could visualize your story in my head. All the characters looked kind of futiristic/anime ish

Sekka & Jefferson both have some robotic aspects to their appearance & D'aillisioux wears some sort of kimono & truly excessive amounts of clothing, though it's not necessarily flamboyant clothing. That said, I do often cite animesque artwork for my character designs, which I do consider kind of a bad habit I'd like to get rid of to some degree in the future, only issue being that I do seem to have a genuine bias against the western style of fantasy & ones towards the eastern style. I'm guessing it might be because the latter is more foreign & thus more exotic & desirable to me, but also when comparing something like Heroes of Might and Magic or Age of Mythology to something like Dark Souls, Shin Megami Tensei, or Kingdom Hearts, I feel like the latter Asian-made games are slightly more abstract. They're less so epic odysseys, I'd say, & more so just journeys, & I think that appeals to me more.

Infected Mushroom wrote:Loneliness is terrible

I am mildly afraid of being alone, for that matter, but not to the degree that D'aillisioux was.

I see...

So then is this horror story “cannon” or is it just a nightmare 1 shot/alternate reality?

Is this really the permanent fate of the poor character?

by **Infected Mushroom** » Thu Dec 20, 2018 9:15 pm

Sacara wrote:Perhaps the next one is another Horror Short Story, but I make the premise more defined? Such as a specific subgenre to horror?

It could also be culturally based. For example, Japanese horror or Scottish Highlands horror. Though I’m not sure if enough people are familiar with these cultures etc

Say Scarra, do you yourself like to write horror?

[CONTEST - COMPLETED] Horror Short Story

Review - The Party

Review - They Stood There

Review - The Boiler Room

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