Storytelling Mini Contest 2015

[Kimonio]

Jesus christ put a nsfw spoiler there dude, that's trigger content

[Raz]

Its certainly a horror story but thats still pretty ♥♥♥♥ up. I havent read the other stories but the writing itself is pretty great.

[MessengerOfDreams]

well if you're gonna bring it up a ♥♥♥♥ notch

*goes to work on something actual legit*

[Kimonio]

Stephen King versus Edgar Allan Poe over here.

[~MP3 Amplifier~]

Wow when I saw the words 'sensitive topic' I was expecting something deep. But not like that.

...I mean, that's disturbing rather than scary...

Guys definitely leave a trigger warning if anyone else is gonna write a story like that. :L

[Supershroom]

"Man, I love Halloween! Where else you can dress up so scarily?" - "Yeah, but the best thing is the tons of candies you can dust off!" - "No! The best thing are the pranks you can play those who don't give anything!"

Greg, Caitlin and Marc have met up at Greg's house and are ready to start. Caitlin has dressed up as a witch with an overdimensional pink hat and a fat nose, Marc is a bat and Greg has put up a zombie mask.

"Uaaaaaaaaah! Tremble, mortals! Nah, do you like my costume?" - "Costume? You're looking like always, Greg!", Cait replied. "Haha! Very funny!"

They start off and walk onto the street. It's a bright, mild full moon night. Unfortunately though, not all adults like Halloween. Mr. Raymond who lives a few streets further doesn't even like kids.

"Where do we wanna start?" Marc asks, when they suddenly hear someone crying: "Booo-hoo-hooo .... "

They turn the corner and find a small specter kneeing on the curb.

"Hey, what's up? Why are you crying, you little ghost?" - "*sigh...* The other kids don't want to go with me ... and alone I don't dare!" - "Hey, you can go with us if you like!" - "Really? Oh, thank you! My name is Abby." - "Hello! I'm Marc. And those are Cait and Greg. Go on, let's get started!"

And so they go from house to house. They snag a good amount of candies ... until they arrive at the house of Mr. Raymond.

"Should we really ring there? You know he hates kids!" - "Don't be scared, Cait!", Greg exclaimed. "It's Halloween tonight! And besides, he's a candy fabricant! If anything, you can get something with him!"

They open the gate and walk into the front garden, nobody of them noticing the "Do not enter!" sign. They ring. "TRICK OR TREAT!"

Mr. Raymond stands up from his sofa in the living room, surprised that his bell has indeed rung. He pulls a string, and a bucket full of water fixated on top of the door turns over. He goes out and laughs dirtily: "Harhar! Nothing to get here so bunk off!", and goes back in. - "Idiot! What a stinker! Well, we go.", Marc looks back irefully. "Abby? Come on, we continue!" - "No, I don't! Wait here, I'm gonna show it to this fool!" - "But, Abby ..."

She goes back and bashes the door. Mr. Raymond opens and Abby shouts loudly "YOU'VE JUST BEEN VERY MEAN TO MY FRIENDS!" The three stand back at the gate, and see Abby raising the cloth in front of Mr. Raymond. "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" - "SO? DO WE GET SOMETHING NOW? OR DO I HAVE TO ..." - "Errm ... yes, just wait!" He comes back with tons of stuff. "Here you have chocolate! Take it all and go! I promise I won't annoy you again!"

"See? Here it goes!", Abby arrives back at her friends. Greg and Cait go a little back, and Greg says "Wow! She's gotta be quite scary beneath her cloth!" - "Maybe her face is garbled? You better don't talk to her on that ..." - "Don't, worry, I'm all gentle!", Greg grins beneath his mask.

"Hey Abby, can you please pull off your cloth? I'd like to know how you look like." - "Greg!", Cait shouted. - "Okay, but only if I can see you, too!" The three open their clothes. "And now you!" ...

"But, how did you scare him? You look totally nicely!" - "Yeah, but I can make very evil faces!"

The four of them finish their journey and accompany Abby back home. Of course, they would also meet again next year. But this is an other story and shall be told another time.

[Harmless]

Story time with the spookiest ghost around!

No magnificent red text because white text is good enough for this: show

"It was a dark and stormy-"

"Nope." My 55 year old editor sighed, shaking his head. "You call yourself an up and coming author and you start out your story with the most cliché opening ever?"

"I swear there's context for this one!" I stammered, looking at him across the rectangular wooden table. I couldn't let him shoot down my last hope.

"Rejected. You're going to have to try a lot harder than that. All your past stories that I heard from you were absolute rubbish. I could hardly get past the first page without cringing at basic spelling errors, boring dialogue, and very predictable plots. Sorry 'Harmless', but I would think twice before you publish this trash... assuming you're capable of thinking."

His words stung colder than the chilly air this Halloween night. My heart could take no more, and I was close to face-planting the desk out of exhaustion and despair. "I don't get it... you d-don't..." Words could barely come out of my trembling mouth. "I-If you don't like it... what... what can I do to improve...?!"

"Nothing." He said sternly, not skipping a heartbeat. "There's no hope for you. Get out of my sight."

I froze. His cold words send shivers all over my body. Fear from getting rejected turned into a harsh embarrassment, freezing my heart solid. I couldn't even think.

"... I said... Get out. NOW."

Out of pure reaction, I spoke; "Wait! That's it! Eureka! I could do a detective-"

"I don't think you were listening." My editor interrupted. His furrowed brow grew a couple of inches deeper as he slammed his fist on my desk, took the "final" draft of my story, and tore it in two. "I let you try again in the past, and every single time you have disappointed me. Why don't you go work for a fast food restaurant or something? You have no hope in this department, and I have realized that no amount of hope will ever save you! GO! GET OOOUUTT!!"

With a swift kick and a surprising amount of strength coming from a decently old man, he kicks the table over towards me, falling over and hitting my legs above my knees, trapping me. I desperately tried to get out of my chair, but the wooden table was too heavy to be moved away due to its top-heavy design. The chair I could not squirm out of, as it stood on four legs, was made of wood as well, and offered no room to move in this situation.

"What's the matter with you?? A little wooden table keeping you pinned down?! Pathetic!!" He grabs the "final" draft of one of my other stories I presented to him, and tore it in thirds. He then takes one of the sheets of ripped up paper, folds up one of the edges, and slashes it several times against my face, above my left eye. I scream in pain as the blood drips down from the deep paper cut, covering the inside of my left eyeball.

"H-HELP!!" I scream. But when you're on a third story floor with nobody around you but an insane editor in front of you, there's no help to be had. "Why?! Haven't you had your fill of damaging me with your words alone?!"

The editor simply looks back at me, throwing the bloody paper in an incinerator. "You might as well go to hell. Your existence only serves to embarrass yourself time and time again. And since you've caused me so much pain and suffering from your literature works alone, if they can even be called literature works... getting some screams out of you should help make up for the stress!"

He takes a boiling bucket of water that had been sitting on top of a fireplace and walks towards me, a wretched smile on his face. I could feel my face and my blood run cold and pale. "You're asinine! You're crazy!! What have I done to you?!"

But before I could get another word out, he dumps the entire bucket of boiling water all over me, from head to stomach. My screams echoed so loud within the room that my throat almost went sore. The boiling water even stuck to my shirt and pants, and as a result it clinged onto my skin, causing even more burns running along my entire body. Soon enough, the water was so hot it melted some of my skin right off, and raw flesh was visible from my arms and face.

"You... Why do you think I rejected your works before even reading the entire thing? Why do you think I went out of my way to get you eliminated from this department?! It's because you were going to steal my fame as the next great author, that's why! And I still got some time before I retire... I simply couldn't let you make me look like a washed-up fraud with your bewildering stories and tales of adventure now, could I?! Especially with most of them talking about 'change' and 'honest politicians' and 'down with the rich and restrict some of their land', eh? Why would I let you make me lose my hard earned money and property, eh?!?"

I was in so much pain I couldn't even let a single word out.

"I can hear your childish voice now... 'Oh, but you earned most of your money by swindling middle class men with contracts and forcibly buying out districts!' Yeah, so what? It's their fault for being such morons that they would fall for the most obvious tactics to earn an advantage in money! You're probably just too young to even understand, aren't you? You can't win without being unfair!!"

He takes one of my ripped up halves of paper and uses it to cut both my eyes several times. At this point I could hardly take any more pain, and hardly let out any more screeches. I was completely blinded by my blood and lack of functioning eyes.

"Now with you out of the way... you won't be able to stop my monopoly. I'm tired of your rebellions and speeches to the common masses and all that other dramatic ♥♥♥♥. You're going to hell for all I care. Now it's time for you to get out of my sight."

He takes a sowing machine and adjusts the right height over my left arm, then turns the machine on, jabbing a needle at ridiculous speeds through my flesh, pecking at my bones several times. He didn't even use thread, which ended up leaving open, bloody gashes in my arms. He then proceed towards my shoulder and my neck. The pain shocks were too much...


... and eventually I truly 'saw' nothing.





The ghost you see now, wanders without feeling a trace. Not a trace of emotion. Not a trace of wind. Not a trace of thought.

A week after the unsolved murder of Harmless, the suspected Editor was found dead, exactly the same way Harmless was killed. A week after that, another man fell victim to the same cause of torture and death.

All he wants is to return the favor he received for everyone. He will eat your flesh while you're alive. He will blind your eyes with blood while you're still conscious. And if you ever feel the slightest traces of something crawling on your skin...

... It's likely him coming after you.

[Raiyuuni]

I M M O R T A L   D U N E L A N D

UPDATED @ 28/10 23:24 GMT -2
(rushed dialogues are subject to revision. too late to be this meticulous)

Spoiler: show

From the void, a blur emerged.
And with it, I slowly regained my senses.
I was lying on the ground. It seemed I had awakened, though I don't recall trying to fall asleep.
Someone has been trying to get through to me, but I could barely listen. I wasn't ready, so I took my time. While I was glancing around the blur slowly gave way to the scenery. I inspected every little detail - walls, furniture, sounds and sensations - all my senses could gobble, all that could grant me another few moments of clarity and awareness. These were already scarce enough.
Another leap, another world. Dream shifts are subtle and distressing experiences. It was already too late to revert a change once I realised it took place.
This time, I was led into a familiar, comforting room, though the never neglected intrinsic displaced feeling of dreamscapes buggered me.
Lacking measurement or perception of time's passing, there was no knowing when the next leap was due. It is of little significance to the average sleepyhead, but I had already testified an unnatural shift streak.
And with the leaps piling up, all hope of a true awakening turned into one more glimpse of a gracious fall into limbo. Worlds that once flourished with liveliness were slowly eroded into dull, empty, cold and dark landscapes. Ghost forests and cities had I roamed for long enough, timeless sceneries where not even nightmarish creatures set foot.
It was oblivion in repeat.
I remember desperation, for there was nowhere I could settle, nothing to build, to live for. I recall crying because of brighter days that long before were due. Crying for every memory I could clumsily gather that was torn apart by the transgressions. Crying even for the, tears no longer there to scar my face. Buried beneath layers of silent prayers chanted thousandfold, I yearned for the day I could scold Death in length for being unforgivingly irresponsible with her duty.
But even then, I couldn't bring myself to embrace the void.
I was determined. I am still determined. To stand before the reaper's imposing figure, sickle in hand, and, at the height of my fragility, to turn the other way and chart my path back home.
And with that, the last remaining shapes took form.
Before me was a girl, one with whom I shared age and clumsiness. She was a recurring guest of my dreams, too.
Her voice split the sound of silence. "Hello, Leon."
"Hello, Second. It's been too long."
"Do I really need to remind you not to call me that? You already know my name."
I could say nothing. It was the truth, after all.
She also seemed to mutter foreign words, as though someone was trying to speak through her. But my relief was greater than my suspicion.
"Where have you been? Everyone's worried", she continued.
"There's no everyone but you and me."
The lights flickered and dimmed.
"There's always been the three of us."
The whole dream shaked, this time. More voices joined the ghost chorus. From what I made out, it was a hasty debate. This was different from the usual shifts - palpable rather than subtle, and especially tense. Yet I carried on.
"I'm afraid of what I'll see. Up there, I mean."
"Don't! I've been in touch with it, all along. You never left, in the end."
The atmosphere kept getting harsher, but I allowed myself a hopeful smile,
"How does it look like?"
"It's beautiful", she whispered.
And, out of the blue, a massive earthquake began. Cracks spread in all directions, and random shapes flickered as the fabric of dreams was unwoven.
I tried to rise to my feet, and so did she. Our immediate reaction was to move toward each other.
"Leon, take my hand!" The moment stretched forever.
However, the effect wore off a heartbeat too soon. The mirror before me broke, and with it, her only image. The floor gave in to the cracks and pressure, and I was tugged down with infinite strength.
Terminal velocity was instantaneous. All muscles were in pain, pressure built up in my ears, and I could feel the blood rushing through every corner.
I had plunged into infinite darkness.
A fitting final act of mockery from the Reaper, a mirage planted in the heart of a wasteland.
But even with the passing, there would be a silver lining. No more words and no more illusions were to follow me now.
And nothing else should, for all time. But the luminous mantle of a thousand suns shattering through the void was a notable exception.
Had I made my way back, at last? I was in pain, which was a good start. The first day went by fast, as I wasn't entirely conscious, a condition I had grown accustomed to through hard labour. I was subject to a myriad of exams before finally settling in a quiet room.
The next morning, I was awakened by a handful of doctors that had excused themselves in. I still felt weak, but my mind had cleared up.
"Hello! How do you feel today?"
"All right... I guess."
"Do you feel anything out of the ordinary?"
"I feel cold, only inside out. It's distressing."
"It should be over soon. You are all right, though. Sit down, if you want - you'll need it, and you've earned it."
They helped me get up. I felt unsteady from the dreams, but I still thought I was not worth of such caution.
"You may feel like your memories are missing. With luck, however, they remain untouched, and should be restored when needed. A few months of therapy, however, and you'll be good as new"
"And the reason for all this is what, exactly?"
The doctors exchanged glances, but they all agreed about saying it.
One of them paced forth, untied her mask, let out a sigh of relief, and then said:
"Congratulations, Eduardo Bourion. You are the first civilian survivor of human cryogeny experiments. Welcome to 2093."

[Sethster]

Well forget this then.

[Magnen]

I spent the last few hours writing this:

"The Shadow Of The Galactic Express": show

My palms are shaking, and I can feel every bead of sweat form on my head and roll down to my chin before finally dripping.

It must be a hundred degrees in here. Not a shocker, since the boiler room of the ship Galactic Exports was just in the next room.

And here I was, stuck in a locker.

I could hear it growling. It's eyes glowed a repulsive shade of orange, and I could smell the blood on its fangs.

I could only hope I didn't end up going the way the others did.


There had been twelve of us. We had been sent to this ship on a suicide mission: A cargo ship had sent us a distress signal of being under attack from a wolf-like monster. It had suddenly cut off with screams and a reverberating growl that sounded like the howl of a wolf, and the roars of a lion and a tiger, making the most horrific sound I had ever heard.

I don't remember much about the trip there. But from the seventeen year old girl to the aging man in his mid forties, I couldn't remember a single face that had looked scared.

We got split into six teams: The goal was to kill the monster, no matter the cost. Failure was not an option. If it was to get loose, help was too far away to make it before dozens of more lives were lost.

My partner was a young woman in her early twenties. We stayed silent, our ears focused, and our fingers ready on a trigger.

For ten minutes, nothing happened. I had almost started to wonder if we had been sent on a false alarm.

A scream. No, two. No....

Four.

Someone radios us, and a young man's desperate voice is heard.

"Come in, please! Anybody!"

"What's going on?" My partner replies.

"These two,- they... they've been ripped in half and-" Another voice interrupts the man, presumably his partner. A sound which I could only assume was claws on metal could be heard through the radio. It clicks off.

I glanced at my partner.

"We're in over our heads, aren't we?" I said.

She rolled her eyes in an attempt to be brave, but I could see in her eyes that she was terrified.

"Come on, we need to see if anyone may have known about this... Creature. It's a long shot, but we may find some helpful info."

We head through halls, checking cabin rooms. Gunshots are periodically heard. I was almost comforted in hearing them; when there was silence, there was no telling if we were safe or not.

We found ourselves in a surveillance room, and I nearly threw up.

There was blood splattered everywhere, and the mangled pieces of the two men that had been here. One man had his torso split from legs, and his intestines were spilling out. The other's chest had been clawed open and organs were missing, while his face was bitten clean off.

I walked over to a small booklet that had been left open, along with blueprints of the ship. They had been splattered in blood, but was still readable. I read the last entry of the booklet.

"...The test subject is susceptible to strong amounts of heat. Bullets will stun it, but have no lasting affect. On absolutely NO condition should the temperature of its holding cell be dropped."

I'm about to tell my partner about what I just found when I hear her gasp. I look over and see her staring at the surveillance screens.

Fourteen dead. Nine of them were wearing uniforms from our team, and five of them were presumably members of the ship. That just left us and one more from our team. I quickly scan the monitors and see the seventeen year old girl clutching her left arm, with no weapon to be found. The monster looked like a black wolf with six legs, the front two resembling human arms. It had gigantic teeth that reminded me of a shark. The monster pounces, and I shut the screens off.

My partner stares at the floor, tears welled up in her eyes.

We had no other options left.

"We need to blow up this ship. Come on." I said.

"R-right."

Following the blueprints, we headed towards the boiler room. We hid every five steps, for fear that it was following us.

We were in a hall, only two rooms away when we heard claws scratching up against a metal door.

My partner looked at me, her face horrified, and mouthed out a single word: "Run."

I quickly ran into the next room and dove into a locker, being as quiet as I could.
Only moments later, I saw the head of my partner fly past the locker.

The creature's glowing orange eyes are the brightest thing in the room. Every breathe I took, I smelled the fresh blood that was still sitting in its teeth from my partner.

It paced the room for thirty-six seconds. It felt like hours. Eventually, it left.

But I knew I didn't have a lot of time before it came back.

I burst out of the locker and made a bee line for the boiler room. Ignoring the blistering heat, I quickly turned up the temperature even further, and shortly, the creature was there, standing only ten feet away. Due to the heat blast, its speed had been slowed.

With the last of my strength, I set all the switches into the right place and hit the last button when it pounced me.

There was an instant of agonizing pain as the creature attempted to rip the flesh off my face.

And then, it was over.

I've never written anything like this before, so I hope it's not too bad.