Writing Prompt 5: Some in in the House (we will publish your story)

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This is the oh my god don’t go in there, I’m so stupid for doing this writing prompt. Inspired by all those horror movies where you think the main character is stupid for doing what they are doing. Generally you disagree so much you are yelling at the screen…. If they are so smart, let’s see how easy they are to write…..

Writing Prompt 5: Some in in the House

Someone is in the house

You are home alone and you hear something upstairs. You heard it a few times, but you thought it was your dog. He is sitting right bside you panting, now. You go to the kitchen, get a knife. Back at the stairs you see that the hallway light is now off. You begin to walk up the steps….

Ok so here’s the prompt. I hope you have more luck with this one than I did. I think it is creepy, but it is difficult to write something that is believable.  I want to see these, so if you can write this story in 500 words or less, post it in the comments. If I like it, we will publish it on EWR: Short Stories and possibly in our print magazine. I will look at these, and if I like them, they will be removed and then published on EWR: Short Stories and or in Every Writer the Magazine.

The story doesn’t have to start like the above story, but it has to be in its spirit. That means it has to be bout someone being in your house, and you going to investigate. Make it like a slasher film, but you know, believable. Try this. See if you what you can do. Our print issue deadline is Sept. 15. Post your story by then to have it considered for the Halloween issue. If you post it after that time, we will still consider it for the site. Bottom line if we like the story posted below, 500 words for less, we will publish it on the site.

Post below!

 

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2 thoughts on “Writing Prompt 5: Some in in the House (we will publish your story)”

  1. Hi! I gave it a try, and I liked how it came out. I hope you do too!
    (412 words)
    It was an hour before midnight, and she had just returned home from a nine-hour shift at work. Exhausted, she kicked off her shoes in the hallway and let her heavy handbag fall off her shoulder to the ground. In a tired haze, she made her way into the kitchen where she absent-mindedly flicked on her silver kettle to make herself a cup of tea. Shaking her thick, brown fringe from out of her eyes, she threw a ready meal in the microwave and poured fresh food out for her small dog.
    What she didn’t notice however, was that the back-door was slightly ajar.
    The kettle pinged at the same time the microwave started beeping, piercing the deadly silence she was surrounded by.
    As she prepared her late-night dinner, she wondered where Olly was. He always ran to see her when she came home, especially if she was rustling about with food in the kitchen. She called out his name, and listened for the excited thud of his paws hitting the stairs.
    Nothing.
    Hmm, she thought. He must be sleeping, she concluded. Which was exactly what she couldn’t wait to do herself.
    Grabbing her tea and microwaved pasta dish, she made her way into the living room and flicked the television on to a random Christmas film that was playing. There was three months till Christmas to go yet, too early to be showing festive films she thought, annoyed.
    Ten minutes later, she heard a thud from upstairs. “Olly?” she called out.
    Nothing.
    She opened the living room door to call out again, when she noticed the upstairs hallway light was on.
    She didn’t remember switching it on. “Olly?” she called out now, a hint of panic in her voice.
    Suddenly tense, she quickly walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife she could find, hands shaking as she grasped the handle. Her heart raced and breathing quickened as she stood back at the foot of the stairs. Knife held tightly in front of her chest, she slowly began walking up the stairs.
    As she reached the top of the stairs, she called for him again, but her voice was a mere whisper. She barely had time to register the shadow she saw at the corner of her right eye as it moved swiftly in front of her.
    “Olly’s not here,” the cloaked, black figure growled menacingly, as he took his own knife, and jutted it straight into her neck.

  2. She was used to being home alone so small noises never really bothered her, but the noises she heard now were loud, distinct and too frequent for it to be nothing. Her dog kept close to her as she grabbed a knife from the kitchen and tiptoed her way to the stairs. The hallway light that was switched on when she came home was now switched off, there was someone or something up there for sure. she had 911 ready on her phone and put it in the back pocket of her jeans.

    Slowly she crept up the stairs, not making a single noise. Her dog stood at the foot of the stairs, its eyes fixed on the top of the stairs. When she finally made her way to the top her dog gave a loud and menacing bark.

    Someone knocked the knife out of her hand, making it bump its way down the stairs. She felt a tight grip on her neck as she was held against the wall. She tried to scream but the air was stuck in her throat with the tight grip and she found herself choking. She kicked her feet as further as she could and found herself hitting the jackpot when she heard the person groan and let go of her.

    she dropped to the floor, breathless. WHat she wasn’t aware of was how close she was to the stairs. She felt her weight tilt to the edge and she rolled down the stairs, head hitting the floor as she landed. Her vision blurred as the landing thud throbbed her head. She saw the dark figure descending the stairs. She was too hazy to get up. She crawled her way backwards with her elbows, her hands frantically scanning the floor in pitch darkness to find something to defend herself with.

    To her luck she felt her fingertips touch the blade of her knife. She reached towards it and grabbed the handle as tightly as she could and drove the knife into what felt like the attacker’s neck as the person bent down to grab her by her hair.

    She felt warm and thick liquid pour down her hands as the attacker dropped to the floor. She scrambled to her feet, almost slipping on the floor rug and ran to the front door, her wet hand slipping on the door knob as she tried to turn it. Third time was a charm and she opened the door and bolted right outside, running down the driveway like a madwoman, screaming for help.

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