Post by ( ren ) on Oct 30, 2012 22:18:03 GMT -5
I know we have a lot of good writers on this site! So I figured we would hold a writing contest, too! I wanted to give those not good with polyvore or graphics the opportunity to get in on the Halloween fun! There will be two categories, short story and poetry. You may choose one category to enter. There will be first, second and third place winners picked from each category that will win special prizes! There will be no prompt for the poetry one, but the writing one will have a prompt you must include somewhere in the story. Stories should be 1200 words or less and should include one or more of your characters! The contest will be open tonight and tomorrow night through midnight. Then we will close this and voting will begin on Nov 1st!
SHORT STORY PROMPT: The lights go out on Halloween in Dynasty Prep and odd things begin to happen...
1st place winners get a special trophy and a sig/icon set by Ren.
2nd place winners get a special trophy
3rd place winners get a special '3rd place winner: Halloween writing contest 2012" graphic for their sig section!
SHORT STORY ENTRIES:
Pyschosomatic - by Zed (1200 word count)
Soren was not a fan of Halloween.
The festivities and candy and fun were all great, but the constant appearance in the real world of things he’d only ever hallucinated the rest of the year did little to calm his nerves. Part of that was rooted in the old superstitious belief that on Halloween night, the veils between the worlds were at their thinnest, and things could slip through to spirit the unwary away. So while everyone else was partying and having fun on Halloween, he was sitting in his room reading a book and resolutely trying to ignore the world outside.
The storm outside grew more severe, wind lashing the nearly-bare branches of the trees against the walls of the dorm. Soren screwed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to block the scraping sound out. He tried to focus on the sound of the rain, because rain was always helpful to him, rain brought some small measure of peace to his troubled mind. But the rain was pattering loudly and the howling of the wind sent it rattling like gravel against his window. He peeked outside. The trees were being tossed around, like great clawed hands reaching out to the sky to try and grab the hidden moon.
Suddenly, there was a loud chunk and the power went out. Soren’s heart rate jumped. His room was nearly pitch black; the only light in it now came from the lamppost outside, giving everything an eerie yellow-orange glow. The wind howled again, throwing more raindrops against his window. Something stirred in the darkness. The world began to swim.
Soren drew his legs up onto his bed and shut his eyes. No, no, no. It wasn’t happening, it was all in his head. There was nothing out there. There was nothing out there.
But he heard the soft metallic clicking of the dog-sized spider made of knives before he saw it, and as it skittered into the light from the sodium bulb it glowed orange.
They’d never been that realistic before.
That thought barely had time to cross Soren’s mind before he let out a cry of shock and clambered out of the bed, dodging its attempts to lacerate his legs. His bare feet slapped on the linoleum of the hallway as he desperately ran through the darkness, the emergency lighting doing little to illuminate the way.
Other things began to pursue him as well, grossly mutated organisms with rusted metal protruding from their bodies, bloated sacks of sallow flesh that were contorted into nauseating positions and lurching jerkily towards him. He passed people in the hall, but their faces were strange and distorted, lines of liquid darkness where features should be, and their voices were the screeches of metal on metal. Static roared in his head and his vision swam. The world became coated in ash and rust, and everything was in a thick, choking fog. Almost without noticing he sank to his knees. The creatures drew closer.
The fog was in his lungs now, the despair almost total. He was alone. Nobody could help him.
The knife-spider was the first to reach him as he sobbed, the fog paralyzing him. It tilted its head and blinked its many metallic eyes at him, wondering why its quarry had stopped. Then it reached out one stiletto-sharp leg and slowly drew a line of blood down Soren’s left arm.
The pain jolted him back into reality, and he leapt up, gasping, desperate to get away from the fog. But where? It was everywhere! The answer came to him as though through molasses. Outside. He had to get outside and into the rain. He’d be safe there, and he was willing to brave the storm, hurricane or not.
He half-stumbled, half-ran towards the door, body-slamming into the push-bar on the door and exploding into the emergency-lit stairwell. He ran down the stairs, jumping down every few as he heard the beasts following him. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, overcoming the fading static that the monsters brought with them. He could feel the bone-deep chill of the fog close on his heels, and he ran. He threw himself at the door at the bottom of the stairs and into the corridor. He began to smile as he ran, his breathing ragged. He was going to make it. He was going to get outside. He was going to be free.
Then in a flash of lightning he saw another monster waiting for him, blocking the door, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
The creature was huge, a hulking, bloated mass of scabrous flesh. White bone jutted cleanly through mottled skin; veins stood out like whipcords on the bulbous muscles. Dried blood coated the thing, smeared over its face and body, and sickly yellow eyes glared piercingly out from its misshapen head, the skin stretched out to cover its form. At the end of one arm was a rusted scythe blade; the other ended in claws coated in blood that looked a little too fresh.
Soren took all of this in at once and had to fight very hard not to throw up in revulsion and terror. And the monster began to move towards him.
The fog had reached his ankles now. Terrified, Soren stumbled backwards, falling over, then scrambled to his feet and dashed away. The bathroom. There was a window in the hall bathroom. He ran into the bathroom past the sinks and stalls and began to struggle with opening the window to escape. There was a crash of thunder outside and he could hear the big monster slowly approaching, dragging its bloated form down the hallway. The stuck window budged slightly. Soren strained to lift it up, his arms burning with the effort.
The door slammed open and the big monster tried to enter. Soren cried out and kept struggling to open the window and escape. Just when he thought his fingers were going to fall off the resistance in the window gave way and it slammed up. He jumped up onto the sill and wriggled out the window into the darkness and rain in the courtyard. He’d trapped himself.
There was another brilliant flash of lightning and a crash of thunder. Soren slipped on the wet grass and mud, crashing to the ground. He could see the obese, bloated monster trying to force itself through the window after him, and the fog was advancing too, more slowly than before. He crawled to the nearby tree and clutched at its trunk, terrified, exhausted, and unable to move.
The knife-spider approached, skittering around, trying to avoid the raindrops. Soren was soaked through and his arms were leaden; they dropped from the tree. He began sobbing, immobilized. The knife-spider poised itself over his head, made a noise like metal being sharpened, poised a stiletto-limb over his eye, and—
There was a sudden flash of light as the power came back on, temporarily blinding Soren. When the spots cleared from his vision, he was alone. No monsters. No fog. It was as if nothing had happened.
But the cold rain still mingled with the warm blood from the cut on his forearm.
POETRY ENTRIES:
SHORT STORY PROMPT: The lights go out on Halloween in Dynasty Prep and odd things begin to happen...
1st place winners get a special trophy and a sig/icon set by Ren.
2nd place winners get a special trophy
3rd place winners get a special '3rd place winner: Halloween writing contest 2012" graphic for their sig section!
SHORT STORY ENTRIES:
Pyschosomatic - by Zed (1200 word count)
Soren was not a fan of Halloween.
The festivities and candy and fun were all great, but the constant appearance in the real world of things he’d only ever hallucinated the rest of the year did little to calm his nerves. Part of that was rooted in the old superstitious belief that on Halloween night, the veils between the worlds were at their thinnest, and things could slip through to spirit the unwary away. So while everyone else was partying and having fun on Halloween, he was sitting in his room reading a book and resolutely trying to ignore the world outside.
The storm outside grew more severe, wind lashing the nearly-bare branches of the trees against the walls of the dorm. Soren screwed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to block the scraping sound out. He tried to focus on the sound of the rain, because rain was always helpful to him, rain brought some small measure of peace to his troubled mind. But the rain was pattering loudly and the howling of the wind sent it rattling like gravel against his window. He peeked outside. The trees were being tossed around, like great clawed hands reaching out to the sky to try and grab the hidden moon.
Suddenly, there was a loud chunk and the power went out. Soren’s heart rate jumped. His room was nearly pitch black; the only light in it now came from the lamppost outside, giving everything an eerie yellow-orange glow. The wind howled again, throwing more raindrops against his window. Something stirred in the darkness. The world began to swim.
Soren drew his legs up onto his bed and shut his eyes. No, no, no. It wasn’t happening, it was all in his head. There was nothing out there. There was nothing out there.
But he heard the soft metallic clicking of the dog-sized spider made of knives before he saw it, and as it skittered into the light from the sodium bulb it glowed orange.
They’d never been that realistic before.
That thought barely had time to cross Soren’s mind before he let out a cry of shock and clambered out of the bed, dodging its attempts to lacerate his legs. His bare feet slapped on the linoleum of the hallway as he desperately ran through the darkness, the emergency lighting doing little to illuminate the way.
Other things began to pursue him as well, grossly mutated organisms with rusted metal protruding from their bodies, bloated sacks of sallow flesh that were contorted into nauseating positions and lurching jerkily towards him. He passed people in the hall, but their faces were strange and distorted, lines of liquid darkness where features should be, and their voices were the screeches of metal on metal. Static roared in his head and his vision swam. The world became coated in ash and rust, and everything was in a thick, choking fog. Almost without noticing he sank to his knees. The creatures drew closer.
The fog was in his lungs now, the despair almost total. He was alone. Nobody could help him.
The knife-spider was the first to reach him as he sobbed, the fog paralyzing him. It tilted its head and blinked its many metallic eyes at him, wondering why its quarry had stopped. Then it reached out one stiletto-sharp leg and slowly drew a line of blood down Soren’s left arm.
The pain jolted him back into reality, and he leapt up, gasping, desperate to get away from the fog. But where? It was everywhere! The answer came to him as though through molasses. Outside. He had to get outside and into the rain. He’d be safe there, and he was willing to brave the storm, hurricane or not.
He half-stumbled, half-ran towards the door, body-slamming into the push-bar on the door and exploding into the emergency-lit stairwell. He ran down the stairs, jumping down every few as he heard the beasts following him. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, overcoming the fading static that the monsters brought with them. He could feel the bone-deep chill of the fog close on his heels, and he ran. He threw himself at the door at the bottom of the stairs and into the corridor. He began to smile as he ran, his breathing ragged. He was going to make it. He was going to get outside. He was going to be free.
Then in a flash of lightning he saw another monster waiting for him, blocking the door, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
The creature was huge, a hulking, bloated mass of scabrous flesh. White bone jutted cleanly through mottled skin; veins stood out like whipcords on the bulbous muscles. Dried blood coated the thing, smeared over its face and body, and sickly yellow eyes glared piercingly out from its misshapen head, the skin stretched out to cover its form. At the end of one arm was a rusted scythe blade; the other ended in claws coated in blood that looked a little too fresh.
Soren took all of this in at once and had to fight very hard not to throw up in revulsion and terror. And the monster began to move towards him.
The fog had reached his ankles now. Terrified, Soren stumbled backwards, falling over, then scrambled to his feet and dashed away. The bathroom. There was a window in the hall bathroom. He ran into the bathroom past the sinks and stalls and began to struggle with opening the window to escape. There was a crash of thunder outside and he could hear the big monster slowly approaching, dragging its bloated form down the hallway. The stuck window budged slightly. Soren strained to lift it up, his arms burning with the effort.
The door slammed open and the big monster tried to enter. Soren cried out and kept struggling to open the window and escape. Just when he thought his fingers were going to fall off the resistance in the window gave way and it slammed up. He jumped up onto the sill and wriggled out the window into the darkness and rain in the courtyard. He’d trapped himself.
There was another brilliant flash of lightning and a crash of thunder. Soren slipped on the wet grass and mud, crashing to the ground. He could see the obese, bloated monster trying to force itself through the window after him, and the fog was advancing too, more slowly than before. He crawled to the nearby tree and clutched at its trunk, terrified, exhausted, and unable to move.
The knife-spider approached, skittering around, trying to avoid the raindrops. Soren was soaked through and his arms were leaden; they dropped from the tree. He began sobbing, immobilized. The knife-spider poised itself over his head, made a noise like metal being sharpened, poised a stiletto-limb over his eye, and—
There was a sudden flash of light as the power came back on, temporarily blinding Soren. When the spots cleared from his vision, he was alone. No monsters. No fog. It was as if nothing had happened.
But the cold rain still mingled with the warm blood from the cut on his forearm.
POETRY ENTRIES:
