Welcome to our 2018 50 Word Horror Story Halloween Contest! Here is our BIGGEST contest this year. You know how much we love Halloween, and instead of giving you promotional money, we are giving out hard cash. We’ve decided to change the monetary prize to the 50 word contest. In the past our 500 word contest would carry a promotion prize, and publication, but honestly we didn’t get the amount of submissions we wanted. This year, we want it right here on this page. We are giving out 500$ to the winner of this contest! The deadline is October 28, 2018. We will announce the winners on Halloween Night in our movie and chat. There will be a 2nd and 3rd place winner, but there is no money given for those positions.
Here are the rules of our contest
Stories:
- Must be high quality horror stories
- Must be 50 words or under
- Must be a complete story
- Have to be in before our deadline.
- Deadline is October 28, 2018
- Enter as many stories as you like!
- Post your story in the comments below.
- Scariest Story Wins
We will announce the winners in a movie chat night, like every Halloween.
What you win:
- Your story will be placed on a tile and shared on our social networks
- You will get a winning announcement post with links to your books and/or website
- You will win $500 cash.
We hope to also do a print issue this year, but no promises, we’ve had a lot of trouble with this in the past. We want your best 50 word horror story! POST THEM BELOW DO NOT SEND EMAILS.
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PumpKin
“He helped me grow it.” Tiffany pokes a huge pumpkin with a knife. “So I wanna carve Mikey’s face on it, Mommie.”
“You’re sweet. Someday we’ll find out what happened to your baby brother.”
Tiffany plunges the blade deep in the squash. An eruption of blood showers them.
J.H. I like this very much.
Mute Forest
Walking alone in the darkness, through everything permeates a stillness whose tranquility is designed to conceal its malevolence. I freeze in accordance with and against my will, this paradox stirring restlessly in the periphery of my awareness, knowing that if I had continued walking my footfalls would’ve ceased to sound.
Home Cooking
The oven chimed; dinner’s a welcomed break. Things were so hectic, even the dog was stressed.
We shared the seasoned end piece while I perused my baby book. My mother’s script read,
“When we met I was complete”.
My appetite vanished but there was still so much of her left.
Nice twist at the end. ?
The birds swept low. Embers died in a long-tired fire. Both wind and water hardened as the winter night approached. And the horse came back alone. Hide quivered with a dismay sharper than the cold, nostrils flared red in the umbra shadows. A lone boot stood still in one stirrup.
Tick, Tick, Clack, Clack
Holding tears back, Andy stands very still; one foot on the bed, one on his nightstand. The axe is heavy.
Mommy and Daddy don’t believe. They will.
The familiar goatish stench comes. He hears It wake; a tick-ticking of claws under the bed.
Clack…
Clack…
I’m enjoying these stories so much. Though we still have some long days of summer left, These stories make me long for the cool, color of fall…and of course Halloween. I wanted to add this note, we had 2 dates in the announcement. It was a mistake on my part. Someone emailed and pointed it out (thank you!) and I have corrected the mistake. Oct. 28, 2018 is the deadline for this contest.
I maniacally laugh in your face long since dead, scraping rotted flesh off your bones to feed the yet undead. One by one, we dropped from the knawing starvation inside. I, the last one left, gnawed hands and feet. Oh, how I wish my last remaining hand, I could eat.
Dennis
6-year-old Dennis is sleeping on my bed. His knife is on the floor under his dangling arm, his middle finger just ghosting over it. He’d be touching the reflection of his finger if my blood weren’t covering it.
I’m only 29, but it’s the last thing I see.
I looked at myself in the mirror, but I didn’t recognize the face on the other side. I was staring into the eyes of death. She spoke with a smirk on her face, “Don’t worry… I’ll take you somewhere safe…” And I felt my soul being ripped apart…
3). I knelt down beside the grave. There was an unearthly silence all around me. On the headstone, it was carved:
In loving memory of
SOPHIA LUKE EDWARDS
12 December 2001 – 31 October 2018
Your smile will forever be in our heart
I was staring at my own grave.
He came screaming, racing, with that wild look in his eyes; a look of pure fear. He kept glancing over his shoulder like something was close on his heels. We thought he was helping when he grabbed little Cody and ran.
How were we to know he was the monster?
Witch
Daisy holds her breath. The hunched shadow passes.
She listens to the dragging steps. Abruptly the sound stops, and leaning out, she sees the shadow; its head turned, red pin-pricked eyes staring straight at her.
“Child?… I’ve lost my child.”
The shadow turns and starts toward Daisy’s hiding place.
Yes, I forgot to say this earlier, please add a title. It helps us. If you didn’t, I’ll just have to email you for a title if we decide to publish it or you win. The title does NOT count in the word count.
Skeleton
I feel it inside, testing its cage. Last night I woke; my hands dancing, prying at my mouth, as if levering a half-shut escape hatch.
I haven’t slept since. It wants free of my skin, my flesh.
And what happens when it realizes it need only kill me… and wait?
WHAT LURKS IN THE DARK FOREST
Wandering through the dark and lonely forest my whole body trembled with fear I stopped abruptly, before me stood a wall, not bricks and mortar but a moving pulsating mass. It slowly began its metamorphosis into human form. Enveloping me in its deadly embrace its talons throttled me to death.
WHAT DWELLS IN THE DARK FOREST
Wandering through the dark lonely forest my whole body trembled with fear I stopped abruptly, before me stood a wall, not bricks and mortar but a moving pulsating mass. It slowly began its metamorphosis into human form. Enveloping me in its deadly embrace its talons slowly throttled me to death.
Deadplay
The hand that tripped Sara in her darkened room still gripped her ankle. “Let go, Bennie!” Stupid brother with his stupid pranks.
Mama’s voice escalated from the other room. “Dead? Oh, God, Bennie, my baby!”
As Sara disappeared beneath her bed, she wondered what kind of pranks the dead play.
nice non typical scary monster under the bed
Yes, I like this one.
The lights flickered and I shrink away from him. My arm hurts where the belt hit it. I want to go home. I want to go home. “I WANT TO GO HOME!”
“Be quiet or you will go in the box”
I stoped talking and caring. I was done fighting.
What dwells in the forest
Wandering through the dark lonely forest with my whole body trembling with fear I stopped abruptly, before me stood a wall, not bricks and mortar but a moving pulsating mass. It began its metamorphosis into human form. Enveloping me in its deadly embrace it began to slowly suck my blood.
You said you were leaving.
Look at us now, hand in hand, hiding from the world, together.
I squeeze. Warm, thick blood trickles down your wrist, into our palms.
I lean over to kiss where your face – your body – should be, meeting nothing but air.
I’ll never let you go.
Costume
The kid is excited. He’s skipping around gleefully; running hands through my fur, feeling the tips of my plastic claws. I taste sweated enthusiasm as he tests one red-dyed fang.
“Oooo, sharp.” He says.
He thanks his parents, saying I’m the perfect Halloween costume.
I think he’s perfect too.
cool, creepy twist
GOOD EVENING
She looked up at the ceiling, her stomach knotted. Footsteps! She quietly picks up her keys and leaves the house. Rolling out into the darkness she watched from a distance. Lights on, no movement. ‘Paranoia?’ She thought, ‘Definitely.’ “Good evening” he said, smiling at her wickedly in the rearview mirror.
THE CASE
of
THE CURIOUS LOOKING HAT
“It eats people, Poof! and they are gone.” “Just like that?” “Yep!” “You’re not serious?” She laughs. “Go ahead, try it on.” He urges. Then in the blink of an eye, there it sat. That curious looking hat, on the ground- her blood beneath. “Thank you sir.” It said.
What Happened?
The haunted house on the hill, the one with broken shutters, shattered windows , ripped curtains and rotted planks, was the scene of the Halloween horror years ago.
Trick-or-Treaters were grabbed, thrown inside and their blood-curdling screams sliced through the black night air. They were never to be seen again.
Old Forest
Shadows play in the dim, filtered forest light. Clawing greenery relents and gives way. In the open meadow a gnarled ash tree stands sentinel. Its branches grasp the air. Step close to feel the weathered bark, smell the aroma. One last breath as thick roots rise, dragging you under ground.
Ancient Clock
When I bought the clock something followed me home. Now it waits; a shadow stalking, snuffling the dark.
Somehow it is tied to the clock. Bayed by the ticking.
One lax moment, one forgetful slip…
Sleep is gone, my mind unseamed. Hands, bruised and bloody, work the key….wind, wind, WIND!
THE TOOTH FAIRY 2 (GRAVEL)
Crunching, he hovered. Yet again the lights blinded her, a nightmare once more. For a moment she sees his bloody mouth, teeth shattered. Tears stained her cheeks, “Please-” she pleaded. He forces her battered jaws open releasing a handful of gravel while crunching his own. Eyes wide, he smiles. “Eat.”
SLEEPY TIME
2:33 AM. Sleepy, he sits on the toilet in semi darkness. “Hello” a voice says. Unsure, he ignores it, ‘Tiredness.’ His eyes wander to the clock in the bedroom, 2:45. “Hello” the voice says again. He leans back slightly looking down. Two green orbs stares back. “Hisssss!”
Ton of entries, very fun read everyone…..sign up with our newsletters, we only send about 1 per month https://www.everywritersresource.com/newsletter/
A creepy alarm woke Connor. It was a mistake to sleep. He was lying on his back, paralyzed in the dark . From his bedroom ceiling, the indigo blackness congealed into tentacles that reached down to touch Connors cheek! His heart tightened! He tried to fight the cold…..but failed to
As I walked up the rickety, old steps, my heart pounded. The door creaked as it slowly opened. I steadily walked down the abandoned hallway, in horror. Suddenly, the ceiling began to tremble, as the ground crumbled beneath me. I tried to scream for help, but it was too late.
Ι do know a sport we are able to plɑｙ tһat is like
Daddy is speaking about.? Μommy stated making both Ьoys wish to know the sport a
lot. ?It?s known as ?Ԝһats the smartest tһing about God.
And еach of us has to come up with one really great point
we like about Goɗ. Who wants to go first?? Lee ɑnd Larry jumped and shoսtеd ?ME ME!?
waving their hands within the air like they do at ѕchool.
Finally, Mommy stated, ?Nicely Lee, since youre two minutes older than Larry, you possibly can go first.
Jacob sat on the bench, which shown in the moonlight. As the group of men appeared, his expression changed – he needed to seem shaken.
“How did it go?” the raspy voice asked.
Jacob pictured his blood-stained hands.
“Better than I thought.” He looked down casually, masking his messy fantasies.
BLACK CAT
The black cat sat by the fire eyeing the fish, his owner got up and walked out. Now’s my chance, he thought springing on the desk housing the fish tank sticking his head in. A piercing scream, guts, and fur filled the tank as the Piranha swallowed the cat’s remains.
Possession
The pale creature squirmed as I raked my tongue across its face, savouring the taste of fear. My grip tightens around its throat, first the surrender then the possession. Fangs reflect in its widening eyes and the moment arrives. Flesh ripples as I invade my host and we are whole.
Carving
The knife slips in, flesh yielding easily to the sharp blade. I saw back and forth rhythmically, watching the eyes. They are wide orbs, goofy-looking, but with fearful madness showing in the corners. I finish and step back, grinning appreciatively.
It’s sure to be the best one at the party!
TRANQUILITY
Their noises drove me insane, it was time. The spade stained with their drying blood and clumped earth. Hmmm, now they are quiet – I miss them. One last task-where would their heads look best…Maybe the girls can stay in their room, Marjorie can lie next to me. Yes…
The bad seed:
I remember him every day, I miss him, My twin brother. The woman who sits in the corner of my bedroom made me do it. My hands are sticky again, I raise them to the bright light *drip *drip. fresh blood, I rub them together, And smile down at my new corps her eyes bright with fear. I hear a thump “honey I’m home!” My eyes jump from my mommy’s face to the ceiling above. I squint, “Oh good daddy’s home!”
Black Cat:
He was a gift, my anxiety was getting worse everyday. Its bad when the lights go out, I feel like someone’s watching me. I shiver, and the cat meows. I scratch the back of his ear as he purr’s, my nerves settle. Maybe he will help, I’m hopeful. I lay back with my fuzzy buddy and flick off the light when he hisses. I jump up flicking the light back on fallowing his eyes, There in the corner is a long haired old woman with a Demonic smile walking toward me.
Far too many words; “fallowing” should be “following” ; not really scary enough when you’ve got a warm fuzzy beside you – the cat should have changed into the demonically enhanced old hag, still cradled in your arm.
No sound can describe that eerie voice. It was rusty and sharp as the old saw.
“That’s our story boy, Now it’s your turn to make the choice.” said the distorted face in the graveyard tree.
“Hurry Hurry!!!” Said, the other two.
“Just a drop of your blood will do….”
Incubation
The cadaver erupted in a tide of skittering legs and hungry mandibles. Spiders crawled from the eviscerated carcass, flowing towards the gapping onlookers. Screams filled the air as barbed feet latched onto flesh, scuttling up bodies and into shrieking mouths.
Silence.
Bodies started twitching as a new breeding cycle began.
Blind date:
“Come on Michelle, it’ll be great I promise.” I rolled my eyes. “you should stop doing that, one day your eyes are going to roll out of your head.” Jenny laughs. We all sat at the table something wasn’t right; I couldn’t move. My head hurts a voice from behind me says “watch them roll!” *crack* my cheeks are moist, it went dark. *thump *thump … my eyes rolled across the table.
Madness
What is real? The house… the house is playing with me.
There are things in the woodwork that spin. Stairs that go up, but lead down. Doors in the walls like holes, with nonsense eyes and hidden grins.
I am darkness drowned; made a gibbering fool.
And no way out.
My heart
Blood ran between Tina’s fingers as the heart in her hand beat a drunken staccato.
She squeezed. It’s the only way to keep him alive long enough for surgeons to stitch his broken body.
Six hours before she’d proposed on her knees.
She smiled, remembered his rejection and squeezed harder.
The Kitchen Knife
It jumped of the rack and landed clumsily on the tile. Picking itself up the knife existed the kitchen and climbed up the stairs to Hale’s room. Dim light from the corridor illuminated the knife’s conscious blade before it wiggled free and slipped in beneath the door.
Who?
The scrape of nails on the floor below my bed woke me up.
‘Stop that, it’s not funny. Gran’s not dead a day and you’re joking around,’ I said, glaring at where my sister lay in her bed.
Her voice came from below me.
‘Gran’s not dead. I am.’
Before she opens her eyes, she knows something’s off. She hesitates, eyes clenched against the darkness, delaying illumination. Thick air constrains her lungs. The stench is palpable. Her body is rigid, alert, aflame. She inhales slowly, jaggedly, and opens her eyes. It’s perched across from her, grinning, ready to begin.
Ugh! That’s the alarm….again. What could I do to buy more sleep? Bummer! My thoughts are enough to wake me up. I try opening my eyes, just a crack. Oh no! They’re stuck! I claw at my face to pry them open. There’s nothing. Only hollows where eyes should be.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Slowly. Again. Ok. I think I’ve lost them by ducking around this corner. I sink, backing against the wall, sliding down to squat. Control breathing. They can track me by my pulse. Each second feeds hope that I’m safe…whoosh! Bricks sucking me in. Swallowing me whole.
I wake up suddenly unable to draw breath. My throat clicks with the trying to swallow. Blackness like a vacuum. Nothing is familiar…except…that smell! He found me. His forearm exacts revenge on my existence for daring to try. I claw like the undead from a grave- only to find mine.
THE CONTEST
Oh, boy, did I win the “Fifty Words Horror Story” writing contest? Does this email contain the verdict? Let’s see, it says, “As this year’s winning author, please be my dinner guest. I raptly devoured last year’s winner, and am salivating again. Come upstairs to your oven. I am waiting.”
Help! Somebody, please help me! This knife against my throat is colder than the ice outside. I should have never sought shelter in this abandoned house, this house of twelve columns! Instead, I only found horror as this orange-haired clown with tiny hands holds the coldest blade against my throat.
‘Black-Jam’s Birthday’
A deformity airing a gag of rotting flesh shuffles towards them, forces their vomit.
“Gruesome!” it froths grinning tombstone teeth, “Disgusting!” it applauds rubbing taloned hands.
Overcome, it rips its hide, devours it. Greedily, it tongues up their purge.
Running, they hear it cracking, splitting, conjuring a multitude.
The room has the humid smell of remorseful flowers saturating its walls, and the halls outside the solemn door are more coffin-dark passages to offices embalmed by gruesome profits. Death softens the carpet and saddens the chairs, where everyone stares, though the accident, so drastic, ensures my closed casket.
Craggy rock lighthouse
Extinguishing the wick, noose tight around his neck. Another fell foul to the curse of the rock.
That fateful day, Captain’s ship ran aground. The house ill illuminated, a drunken keeper to blame.
The vengeful ghostly Captain possessed him, claiming another keepers soul.
And any who dared to man Craggy rock.
I wake to the sound of scratching at the locked casement. The moon shines into our room, illuminating your figure by the window. You look out over the family plot in the backyard. The smell of your rotting flesh is overpowering.
Hoarsely you whisper, “Evelyn, please stop digging me up.”
Don’t worry, sweetness; he’s not hungry, he’s not angry, and he has no intention of harming you. In fact, if it weren’t for the glimmer of eyes in the darkness under your sheets, you wouldn’t even know he was there.
Hiccups of breath cut short by terror. Her babies, so trusting, sure she could save them, wept. He was close. She knew what that monster would do to them, making her watch. Holding them, smelling their innocence and fear, she pulled the trigger.
Once. Twice … he’d found her.
The clock demanded attention. It seemed to slow faster every day.
I could never let it stop. The synchronicity between it and the beating of my heart was palpable. Keeping it well wound had become an obsession.
My fears were confirmed the day I lost the key – we died together.
She walked over to the side of the room. Every eye was upon her as the evil flashed from her icy stare. She reached her hand up as if she were conducting a hideous orchestra. Screams echoed around the room as the teacher scratched her nails down the chalkboard.
My Licorice Hearted Lover
I chase your darkness,
Through the twisting, frightened memories.
Receding, shrinking before me.
I reach out needing, fumbling in the maze.
Hands penetrate the wall – plastic and bitter.
Engulfed, pressing – head and shoulders, enter more.
The membrane retreats, gathering toward its inner core.
this is a really cool poem
The dead reincarnate from the grave. They need to see the night air in the contemporary world we live in.
This is how it is for them and will be on Halloween night.
The crypt was silent. Overgrown with weeds it was easy to see nary a soul cared for the remains left rotting within. The site inspired pity for its inhabitant.
The resident evil inside smiled as it waited for the night each year it could rise and feed. Revenge is sweet.
Maria knew she talked to two men from Bangladesh while they moved into the apartment across the hall Saturday. Maria knew she fell at their door Sunday choking to death on a piece of steak. What Maria never knew is why the landlord said no one ever lived there.
Paul Kimpel
The alarm clock woke her up, and she let out a long yawn as she stretched her arms. Reaching over to hit the snooze button, she felt her husband’s arms wrap around her as he muttered “I love you.” Then she remembered that her husband had died three years ago.
Last line could use a little tweaking, otherwise pretty good.
There was always the chance that someone might find me. It is a far-fetched hope, but I hold on to it. I have to. Trapped here in this chamber, trapped by the one man whom I thought cared about me, driven mad by the endless ticking that rocked inside my very head. For it isn’t a mere closet in which I was ensnared, but the largest clock I’d ever seen. My heart beats in time, my silent pleas ticking with it. My soul clings to that desperate hope.
Because if someone doesn’t find me in twenty-four hours, my spirit will be lost…forever.
I stare at the mud tracks and blood splats spoiling my clean floor. The farm seems peaceful for once. I smile bone-tired, bandaged, and bruised. I rest my shovel outside. I stayed “until death do we part.” Now my life can begin again, perhaps with husband number 13.
Conquering fear was my goal. I chose to cut through the woods for that very reason.
All seemed good until I reached the center. The twigs still snapped even when I stood still. My heart was racing as I turned to look behind. Fear is good – lesson learned too late.
Amidst eroded tombstones and crypts, the remnants of an ancient cemetery poked thru overgrowth. Fascination with dead souls initially arose after reading Frankenstein when a kid. Dare devilish, precocious, and rambunctious boyhood antics found me submerged among lovely bones. Obsession to communicate with deceased found me digging up buried coffins.
Once again I awake to that same old sad song playing on low volume accompanied by static. It’s late at night and nothing is turned on. All is darkness. Hearing that strange song yet again makes me shudder with desperate dread and wonder if I’m dead and in hell.
“Sweet music, friend,” Sadie posted as she sat in her window. The music dancing in from the apartment above created perfect peace. Her neighbor replied, “Home becomes sweet one bit at a time,” as she turned up the music and continued clipping her husband to death with the toenail clippers.
The first line needs a little work and the sudden POV shift is jarring as is.
Grime matted his hair. Starvation left him gaunt, thin enough to be a skeleton. Rats gnawed at his feet. Why does he stay in this dark, wet, cold basement? If you ask, he smiles, points a frozen finger at a cracked, tarnished mirror, and rasps, “I can’t leave him alone,”
The black-eyed infernal with folded wings grasped the sleeping newborn. The nursery smelled of innocence and baby powder. Smiling, he lifted the cherub to cracked lips. Small eyes opened, at the forked-tongue kiss. Nictating membranes blinked. Paws plucked the human child from the crib, while nestling his changeling inside. Dinnertime.
Hmm, seems to be 2 different creatures doing the same action – confusing.
The high-pitched howling is too close. Angry. Hungry. My neck prickles. I walk faster.
The door!
Rustling bushes cast moving shadows. I hear heavy panting and smell fetid decay.
Too close!
Frozen fingers grasp keys. A low, throaty growl.
I’m reaching, fumbling…
Blinding pain, a gurgling scream and crunching.
Coldness.
There were strobe lights and screens everywhere. The sky was computer code and the floor was microchips. Vendors were selling likes and follows on every corner. Then they all stopped. Every face was looking at me. Mocking me. Then it all went dark. Battery died.
too passive, try active verbs
not scary
First night in my new home. People don’t speak here. I shopped, came home, lock doors, put my gun by the bed. I went to bed. Dosed off with my television on. Suddenly awaken to sharp fingernails scratching all over my body, with my own gun held to my head.
For years, I’ve watched and waited for my opportunity. Every step he took, every pause at the precipice of the staircase, every collapsed shelf. Twisting between his feet, scratching his toes. I knew he sensed my malice. “The cat is trying to kill me,” he laughed.
Soon… I will succeed.
“He doesn’t need milk.”
“Please.” Anat undressed. “He will get hungry in the night.”
“He is not a baby.”
Anat turned away on the bed.
Sandro awoke in pain. The kid was crouched into him, warm and wet.
Teeth glistened as he looked up from the hole in Sandro’s chest.
Grumbling, you wake in darkness to a tiny voice. “Mama,” it cried. You get out of bed and reach unsuccessfully toward the bedside table for a bottle. Blindly, you trip on the metal crib frame. Just as you reach for the light switch, you realized: you don’t have a child.
The cat was standing on two legs across the prone body of my wife. ” All she did was scream when I stood up,” Shadow said. “Look. I like you. You know how to rub a kitty proper like. That’s why I’m going to let you live. Be Nice. Company’s coming.
Like shadows moving in the darkness,
It is something seldom seen.
A total act of malevolence,
Of what can only be, Halloween…
From nightmare to nightmare
And things that go bump in the night.
Ghouls and Goblins coming out of the gloom,
devouring every little kid, in costume.
cool poem
An October Morsel
I’m running down a cobblestone road, a church bell tolls thirteen times.
The humidity and pitch dark cause me to slip and tumble, I hear a bloodcurdling scream.
I awake with sweaty relief, but as the full moon shines through my open window,
blood is dripping down my sill.
Come A Little Bit Closer
Two boys broke into the zoo, soon after they separated.
The eerie slice of Halloween moon lit up the baboon
cage, a baboon was tossing and pouncing on a doll.
One boy got closer, it was not a doll, the baboon’s smile changed
and showed sinister bloody canine teeth.
Her scream goes right through me. Blindfolded, gagged, bound, I can do nothing. The smell of blood as warm wetness splashes me.
Mother screams again and begs to die. A tearing sound, howls, then silence.
Hot, rancid breath on my face: ‘You’re next.’ Insane laughter.
And then my screech…
She lay awake, drugged, paralysed. Midnight struck.
Time passed unbearably slowly. For hours she struggled to breathe, feeling like her veins were on fire and spiders were crawling out of her eye sockets.
The night had been long and terrible, but the drug must be wearing off soon.
Tick. 12:01.
Erebus’ Halloween
Wild-eyed ravens claw
at every raw place
as moonlight licks
on thick brambles
caught in the high winds
of a nightmare.
Should I wake in time,
I will pluck the thorns
from my rattling skull,
let a slew of ghouls swallow them whole.
There’s been a fire at Dad’s factory. It’s on the news and you scare. You immediately hear Dad whistling up the porch. Relieved, you hug him. He kisses your forehead and enters his room.
The house phone rings and you lift the receiver.
“There was an accident. Your dad died.”
They crept up behind the van, moving slowly. ANFO shook in the absence of gelignite. The timer ticked slowly, second by second, as they left footprints. Around the building in the silent night they moved slowly, one foot in front of the other. The bloodletting began after a sudden boom.
T’was 8 :00 at night. I was hamming while going upstairs when electricity lights went off as soon as I arrived on the second floor. Knowing I was left alone in the house, all my hairs stood up, screaming while rolling down the stairs coz someone touched my hand, hayyyyyyyy!
I was working when I got a call, mom died. I cried a lot until my eyes dried up when I got home. I went directly to restroom; I found lots of cotton around the toilet bowl then I saw mom’s hat moving on the air then lights turned off!
Hello ,
We want to know if anyone would be interested in having your 50 word story in an anthology. If you are, REPLY to this entry. Also please make sure to title your stories. A ton of these are great….
Interested.
I am very interested, but I’d need to know the rights I’d need to grant, any potential payment, etc. Could you provide some more information? Perhaps email me?
depends on the contract, need more details
yes please.
Hi,
I am open. However. Please email or post the terms and/or contractual obligation/s. Thank you!
Storm.
I’d like that. I have to go back and title my entries though.
I am, I just need to know all the terms, which I guess I will find here somewhere! I’ll find my stories and title them if terms are cool. Thx.
The Overlord
The catlike creature gestured for me to board. Shadow was already there. Than a taller more lithe figure appeared. Gnawing on a human thigh. “Most holy Bast”, I murmured. It took a yellow cloth from another catlike being and wiped its mouth and fur. It nodded to Shadow. ” Impressive.”
I once thought my precious Dumpling creepy for her hypnosis obsession; I stupidly regarded her as a stalker then. It was only when she so kindly restrained me and showed me the numb, fuzzy truth did I see that I loved her wholeheartedly, despite the screaming voice in my head.
Dim lighted room,Ycreep laid.Swiftly, Silhouette shadowed in front of her. NOt again! she screamed. Dark image got closer, atop,penetrated her,onto her being.With all might she fought;dusty,lifeless, was all she could grasp.Her crowning glory slowly fell, all wrecked. She was skeleton day after.
The Empty Forest
“You think your dad is here?’
“He likes to watch birds.”
“None left.”
“Why?”
“Hunger.”
“Where’d they go?”
“Nowhere.”
“But, if they were hungry …”
“They weren’t.”
“What?”
“Hungry.”
“You said …”
“Ah. I see. I meant, I was hungry.”
“And … my dad?”
“A bit stringy.”
ooo, creepy
While walking the Scottish Moors, Sam sees a man riding a black horse and playing the bagpipes on the road. The stranger says,
“Stranger, do you believe in ghosts?”
“
No,I do not. “
The stranger slashes at him with a huge sword saying
“do you believe in ghosts now?”
,
good potential, need to work a bit more on execution
The Headache
“Oh, you found my shoes.” She hugged the plastic bag.
“Look at them” he said.
She did. Her shoes – filled with congealed blood. She touched her forehead where the pain was at its worst. The crispness of something dried and the sharpness of jutting bone made her cry.
The old grandfather clock tics and tocs on Lake Street in the deserted town of Gotham. Maraybell June walked at 2:03 am from a party, a truck driver spots her walking past the clock back and forth, then she disappears into thin air.
I wake up in a windowless room. I open the door and sprint. As I approach a door a blood-curdling scream appears, as i stop to get my breath back a giant black silhouette with blood shot eyes appears, it slightly turns its head to the right, then darkness approaches.