Off Topic: The Flood
This topic has moved here: Subject: Short, Scary Stories!
  • Subject: Short, Scary Stories!
Subject: Short, Scary Stories!

All roads lead to Sol.

This is a real story that has been in manuscripts from the 1500's. Some of you people may have heard it before.

During the 1500's Edinburgh castle was a fully fledged castle filled with the Scottish kings of old. But one day one of the castle servants was moving around the stores in the basement of the castle while moving a large cupboard there was a large a small opening in the wall. The king (I don't know which king at the time) was notified and came to inspect the opening. The opening itself was only wide enough for a small boy. One of the servants suggested sending in the drummer boy of the kings personal guard. With promises of a hefty reward the boy nervously crept in. The boy was told to beat the drums to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He started to drum.

Bum-Bud-Bum-Bud. The king with his subjects followed the noise above the ground following the Royal Mile. Down the hill they went gathering followers and soon most of the street was following the noise. The beats suddenly got faster and started moving at a faster pace. Bum-Budbumbudbumbud. Then exactly halfway down the Royal mile the drumming stopped.

The king ran back up the hill with his guards and ordered rocks and nails some of the footmen smashed up near by tables for wood with the rocks they filled up the gap in the wall and wood bordered the store. About 100 years ago the store was re-opened people who have gone into the store claim that by the large stones they can hear a drum beat.

Bum-Bud
bum-bud
bum-bud.

Any visitors to the Royal mile in tour buses or going to the Edinburgh dungeon on the opposite side of the mile, will have this story told to them I can almost guarantee them.

  • 07.11.2008 11:08 AM PDT
  • gamertag:
  • user homepage:
  • last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT

i dont get the one story with the babysitter making a sandwich

[Edited on 07.13.2008 4:57 PM PDT]

  • 07.13.2008 1:33 AM PDT
  • gamertag:
  • user homepage:
  • last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT

awesome stories man !!!! Loved the mexican border one!!

  • 07.13.2008 2:16 AM PDT
  • gamertag:
  • user homepage:
  • last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT

Yea i used to get the rarely but now i have deja vu no joke i actually do get deja vu usually twice a week its actually a really good feeling when deja vu happens

  • 07.13.2008 2:46 AM PDT

Here i sit, writing this at quarter after six A.M.

There was a small, friendly town that was only several miles outside Las Vegas. Lately, people have been dissapearing. Three boys were sitting on the steps of a small schoolhouse. "Ya know, Jimmy, they say that the guy that has been taking them people is-" The second boy, Jimmy, cupped his hand over the boy's mouth. "Don't say his name! Don't EVER say his name!" He told him angrily. The school bus arrived, and the boys got on it.. When Jimmy got home, his parents were out. He sat down and watched some "Freakazoid!" re-runs while he waited for them. He watched TV until around midnight, and his parents still weren't home. He decided to call them. He picked up the phone and dialed their number. They never picked up.

He went over to the third boy, Thomas's, house. He wasn't there, either. "Man, there must be some event goin' on. And i wasn't invited!" He went over to the second boy's house, and he was home. "Johnny, at least you're home!", he exclaimed. He noticed that Johnny was crying. "They're gone, Jimmy... he took my parents away..." He replied. "Who took them?!" Johnny said the name, to which Jimmy gasped. "Now he's coming for YOU, too!" Johnny cried harder. "I'm scared, Jimmy!" He sobbed. "Let me in, and get your dad's guns." Jimmy said. "We ain't goin' without a fight." They got a shotgun each, and camped out in the living room. 2 minutes later, the door opens. "He's here..." Johnny said. A ghostly figure entered the room, and headed towards Johnny. "No! If you're gonna take him, you'll have to go through me!" The thing halted for a second. Jimmy blacks out.

He wakes up, and looks around. The shotgun is still in his hand, but Johnny is gone. He isn't in the living room anymore, either. "Dammit, it took Johnny, his parents, and all those people... It probably took Thomas and his family, and mom and pa! I gotta stop this! I gotta kill it! How will i pull it off... think..." He thinks for a few seconds, then stands up, pumping the shotgun. "CANDLEJACK! GET IN HERE AND GIMME MY PAREN

  • 07.13.2008 3:37 AM PDT

Blade smithing,gun smithing,marksmanship,archery,etc.I do it all!

Posted by: jwhjwh15
Yea i used to get the rarely but now i have deja vu no joke i actually do get deja vu usually twice a week its actually a really good feeling when deja vu happens
for me it's atleast twice a day.

  • 07.13.2008 10:39 AM PDT
  • gamertag:
  • user homepage:
  • last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT

Posted by: Barkingspider73
ok was the clown statue one supposed to be funny because they were in the wrong house? or did I just not get it?

no it was like a robber or murderer

  • 07.13.2008 11:32 AM PDT

Only in death does duty end!

Man I read the watcher and I was, ok ok ok until the very end. I got a cold chill down my spine and then looked behind me.

Good stuff man.

  • 07.13.2008 11:47 PM PDT

Posted by: jubking
I think i'll post my English Coursework up here :D

it is very long and got a 19/20 thats an A* whoop!

The End…

John decided it was worth the risk and entered the old derelict house; maybe there was a phone inside he could use to phone for help. He opened the old rotting and splintering door and then suddenly an overpowering stench of rancid meat filled John’s airways, he gagged for a second before blocking out the thought of the stench. He then entered the house.

John found himself in a small corridor that stretched all of the way to the back of the house. There were four doors on either side of the corridor, a trap door above John’s head and at the end of the corridor was an eerily dark set of stairs. The house was miraculously clean for something that appeared derelict from the outside; the only trace of dirt was a thin layer of dust that covered the whole corridor. John decided to look in the door closest to his right.

John reached for the door handle, as he touched it a shiver ran down his spine. As he turned the handle he felt his hand began to warm, and then boil. John pulled his hand away and clenched it, his hand was ice cold. The door then started to swing open of its own accord, a small cloud of dust blew into John’s eyes and as he looked up what he saw made his blood run cold…

John saw a man standing in the room. There were no furnishings in the room; there were water stains all over the ceiling and walls, a single light bulb hanging loosely from the ceiling. The man was tall, had jet black hair; lime green eyes and had a very dark expression on his face. John sighed in relief, at first he thought it was his father in the room but this man was far too young, and besides his father was in the hospital another fifteen miles down the road. John then noticed that in one of the corners of the room was a small boy huddled up in a ball; he looked just like a younger version of the man but with brown hair. John was about to start explaining to the man why he was intruding, when the man shifted his gaze from one of the walls to the boy and approached him. The man stood in front of the child for a moment and without warning raised a fist and drove it directly into the small boy’s ribs. John was horrified; he had some experience with this kind of thing. As the man raised his fist again John charged at him head first, but before he cleared the doorframe, the door swung shut hitting John on the head: he slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

When John awoke the first thing he thought was to help the boy he had just seen. John staggered to his feet and ripped the door open. There was no longer a room there but in its place was a large brick wall. John didn’t understand; it didn’t make sense that a solid brick wall was put up in… John realised. How long had he been unconscious? He looked at his watch, it was three fifteen, and John had been out for three hours.

John resolved to continue looking for a phone, so he reached for the next door handle. Another shiver ran down his spine and the door swung open.

John saw a great field and a large building further back. The grass was emerald green and the sweet smell of spring hit John like a thousand tiny pinpricks. The building was large, it had many doors and a small tower, there were many children running around and playing, it was a school. John realised that he was looking out onto a school field; John saw the same boy that was being hit running around on the field, only he looked a little taller and had no signs that he had been beaten. John saw a woman in a black suit walking toward the child followed closely by a woman with a small badge on that he couldn’t quite make out. Although John was several metres away he could hear the woman in the suit clearly greet the young boy and tell him that the other woman was Margaret from Social Services. John was about to approach one of the women when the door violently swung shut. John pulled the door open but all that was there was a solid brick wall. John was confused but decided to check the other doors. He needed a phone and besides, he was by now more than a little curious.

John grabbed the door handle of the third door; a shiver ran down his spine. The door swung open.

John saw a large hall, filled with people. He noticed that most of them were university graduates; they were wearing the tell-tale mortar boards. There was a large stage set at the front of the hall, someone walked up on to the stage, John couldn’t hear anything but just as a diploma was being handed to the person he heard “is awarded to John Abbot”. John slammed the door shut. John Abbot was his name, how could there be a hall and a field next to each other in a house? Where did those places seem familiar from? Why did that person have the same name as him? It then hit John; this place was some sort of sick slideshow of the key events in his own life.

John felt faint, his mind was racing, and who would do this? Why would they do this? How did they do this? He decided to get out of there but as he turned to leave the house he noticed that the front door he had come in from was gone. John realised that whoever was doing this wanted John to see through all of the doors.

John opened another door, the now familiar shiver ran down his spine, he saw a bar, there were lots of people, and there was Julie. John closed the door. He hadn’t seen her since the accident and he didn’t need to have her shoved in his face now.

John opened the next door and saw a room full of people, all dressed in fancy clothes. He saw a dance floor and in the middle he saw himself, he saw Julie and he saw Charlie. John slammed the door shut, tears in his eyes he punched the door, the wooden door splintered and dug into his fist, John blocked out the thought of the pain. John decided that he should open the next door, but he already knew what was coming.

In his fury, John ripped open the next door so that it hung off of one hinge. He found himself looking into a car, there was Julie, he saw his best friend at the time Charlie and he saw himself. Charlie was driving the car and John was shouting at Charlie, telling him that he was drunk and that he had to stop the car. The car started to swerve more and more violently and then finally rammed through the railing of a bridge. As the car careened off of the side of the bridge and soared over a lake, time seemed to slow. John saw Charlie smash through the windscreen and Julie scream as the car smashed into the water and began to sink. Time sped back up and he saw the car fill up with water as he saw himself pull Julie’s unconscious body out of the now fully submerged car. John tried to close the door but he had broken the hinge, he was forced to watch his wife die all over again. John saw himself pull Julie out of the car and swim to the bank, and then he saw himself collapse. John then noticed that on the other side of the lake, in the distance was a small door hanging in mid air and in the doorframe was Julie, standing and looking at him. John fell to the floor in tears and when he looked up; he saw only a brick wall.

John stood up and wiped the tears from his eyes, he opened the next door and saw a graveyard, there was a tombstone with the words ‘here lies Charlie King’ John saw him self approach the tombstone, spit on it and walk away. John closed that door quickly and coldly.

John opened the last door with great hesitation; he was shaken up by seeing the highlights of his life in an hour. He saw himself driving a car on a mobile phone. He remembered from earlier that day, this was the call he had received from the hospital saying that his dad was in a coma. John then saw a small truck come out of the blue and collide with his lime green Mini Cooper. John saw himself careen through the window screen and hit the front of the truck that must have been going at near forty miles per hour. The thing that confused John was that he couldn’t see this house anywhere and that he had survived that crash. John closed the door.

John looked to see if the door out of the house had appeared back but there was still only a blank wall. As John wheeled around to take his last option of ascending the staircase he saw a hooded figure descend it. It wasn’t a skull or the devil, and it wasn’t hideous or terrifying… It was a familiar face. John collapsed in a heap on the floor, crying he looked up and screamed, ‘You’re not real!’

‘Yes I am John…’ said Julie calmly. ‘Please John. Stay with me. You have to. Forever.’

Julie ran a finger down the side of John’s face, John shivered; it was cold to the touch John began to panic, he knew that he couldn’t stay with Julie here, not yet, it wasn’t his time, he knew that much. ‘No!’ said John defiantly ‘I’m not ready to die’.

‘I am sorry John, I truly am, but it’s not something that can be un-done, the end is the end. All you can do is stay here, with me.’ Julie replied

‘I can’t stay, there has to be a way to go back, I’m not ready to die’ John whimpered.

‘The only way for someone to go back, is for a parting of ways, two souls are split permanently, and they can never meet again… John, do you really want that, you will never be able to see me again!’ Julie began to scream.

‘I’m sorry,’ John said, more collected now. ‘But I have to go…’

‘Ok’ Said Julie, calmly, tears running down her pale, cold face.

‘Well, how does this work?’ said John.

‘Goodbye John.’ Said Julie, her dry and pale face glistening with tears.

‘Good…’ John started.

‘Clear!’ Julie Screamed.

Excellent story. At first, i thought it was going to be just another story where John switches with the kid being beaten, so John is beaten for eternity and the kid gets to live his life.

  • 07.14.2008 12:14 AM PDT

Only in death does duty end!

Posted by: Glue Sniffer
This is the Scariest Story I have ever read.


That's some scary ass -blam!- man

  • 07.14.2008 1:28 AM PDT

Posted by: homcom
I got one for you guys

There were to farmers, bob and joe. They were good men, and not a whole lot got to them, save for one man: their landlord sven. Sven was always extremely unfair to them, and always pestered them about this, or that. So one day Joe and Bob decided to make fun of sven a little. They modified their scarecrow to make it look like sven.

At first it was just a joke, but as time passes they started to take their anger with sven out on the scarecrow. Yelling at it, beating it, the whole nine yards. Sometimes after that, they would even dance with it, making fun of Sven. When one day, while joe and bob were working out in the fields, Joe swore he saw the scarecrow jerk just a little bit.

Bob told him that was nonsence, it was just the wind or something. But later that day Bob thought he saw it jerk as well. They thought they should stop work early and cool off, they must have been seeing things. However, while they were inside, they both heard a strange noise coming from the field. It was a strange sort of yelp.

They both went out and took a long, hard look at the scarecrow of Sven. It seemed normal enough. They decided they would take it inside the house. They looked it up, and they looked it down, but it seemed like a plain ol' scarecrow. But that night both of the men were sure they saw it almost stand up for half a second out of the corners of their visions. They decided to hit the hay early, after all tommorow was the day they had to head in to town to turn in all thier crops. Neither of them slept to well that night.

The next morning they were eager to set off, and left extra early. They were happy to be on the road and away from the scarecrow, some time away would clear their nerves, and they would see on their return that nothing was wrong.

About 1 hour into their trip, Joe realized they had left one of their busshels of corn. They need that corn for trade, otherwise they wouldn't be able to make it through winter. Neither one of the men really wanted to go back to the house, so they drew straws. Bob lost and had to head back to the house. Bob told Joe to keep going, and that he would catch up. What did he have to worry about?

After about another hour, Joe Took out the binoculars to check on Bob's progress. He saw the scarecrow on the roof, dancing with a bloody skin.

what do you think?

i remember that story from when i was young, it was in a "scary stories to tell in the dark" book.

  • 07.14.2008 2:13 AM PDT


Posted by: forandir
Posted by: homcom
I got one for you guys

There were to farmers, bob and joe. They were good men, and not a whole lot got to them, save for one man: their landlord sven. Sven was always extremely unfair to them, and always pestered them about this, or that. So one day Joe and Bob decided to make fun of sven a little. They modified their scarecrow to make it look like sven.

At first it was just a joke, but as time passes they started to take their anger with sven out on the scarecrow. Yelling at it, beating it, the whole nine yards. Sometimes after that, they would even dance with it, making fun of Sven. When one day, while joe and bob were working out in the fields, Joe swore he saw the scarecrow jerk just a little bit.

Bob told him that was nonsence, it was just the wind or something. But later that day Bob thought he saw it jerk as well. They thought they should stop work early and cool off, they must have been seeing things. However, while they were inside, they both heard a strange noise coming from the field. It was a strange sort of yelp.

They both went out and took a long, hard look at the scarecrow of Sven. It seemed normal enough. They decided they would take it inside the house. They looked it up, and they looked it down, but it seemed like a plain ol' scarecrow. But that night both of the men were sure they saw it almost stand up for half a second out of the corners of their visions. They decided to hit the hay early, after all tommorow was the day they had to head in to town to turn in all thier crops. Neither of them slept to well that night.

The next morning they were eager to set off, and left extra early. They were happy to be on the road and away from the scarecrow, some time away would clear their nerves, and they would see on their return that nothing was wrong.

About 1 hour into their trip, Joe realized they had left one of their busshels of corn. They need that corn for trade, otherwise they wouldn't be able to make it through winter. Neither one of the men really wanted to go back to the house, so they drew straws. Bob lost and had to head back to the house. Bob told Joe to keep going, and that he would catch up. What did he have to worry about?

After about another hour, Joe Took out the binoculars to check on Bob's progress. He saw the scarecrow on the roof, dancing with a bloody skin.

what do you think?

i remember that story from when i was young, it was in a "scary stories to tell in the dark" book.

That's what I'm basing the 2nd scary stories thread off of.....

  • 07.15.2008 8:05 AM PDT
  • gamertag:
  • user homepage:
  • last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT

Posted by: EvilTurkey1021
"Daddy, I had a bad dream." You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it's 3:23. "Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?" "No, Daddy." The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in the darkness of your room. "Why not sweetie?" "Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up." For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can't take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.


I shivered.

  • 07.16.2008 5:37 PM PDT

Posted by: ClubNips22
What is the best way to move up in skill level? I have heard that you move up quicker in Ranked matches but I don't seem to be moving anywhere..


Fail :D

Taken Away


jimmy had just enter a game of team slayer wen he got splaterd by a seagul(wtf) putting his clip on his file shre under the name "lol dumb seagul" he got on bungie favs
a week later he got a wierd message from bungie about recon theay said u got this for ur seagull splatter
he got upandwent to tell is friend but left his window open then a bloddy seagul came in through the window and cursed his xbox360 with the RROD wen jimmy got back he noticed he had red rings hecried out "nooooo"
he then went out side and got killed by a seagull
llolz

[Edited on 07.17.2008 6:04 AM PDT]

  • 07.17.2008 5:14 AM PDT
  • gamertag:
  • user homepage:
  • last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT

THE CLOWN THATE WAS -blam!- WIERD MAN

  • 07.17.2008 10:08 AM PDT

It's all in good fun!

Posted by: homcom
I got one for you guys

There were to farmers, bob and joe. They were good men, and not a whole lot got to them, save for one man: their landlord sven. Sven was always extremely unfair to them, and always pestered them about this, or that. So one day Joe and Bob decided to make fun of sven a little. They modified their scarecrow to make it look like sven.
I read that in a book once, the Scary Stories 3 book actually. Title, and the name of the scarecrow though, is Harold.

[Edited on 07.17.2008 1:04 PM PDT]

  • 07.17.2008 1:01 PM PDT

Posted by: bigdawg6539
I woke up, and she was still here.

AUAUAUAUAUGGGHHHHHH!

And then I said I had to get going, and she asked me if she wanted me to cook breakfast!


AUAUAUAUAUAUAUGHHHHH!!!

And then I said I had to go to a meeting downtown and she said I'm going that way, I'll give you a ride!!!


AUAUAUGGHHHHHHHH!




ah hahahaha

best one yet

  • 07.19.2008 11:08 PM PDT
  • gamertag:
  • user homepage:
  • last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT

very good thread guys, of course The Watcher gave me chills, i even imagined a video clip version to it. that the guy goes back to the room, looks through the keyhole. this time he sees nothing but an empty room, then a white face sweeps across the hole and again all he sees is red.

i could imagine that being scary

  • 07.19.2008 11:54 PM PDT

I'm gonna live forever. Or die trying.

There was this couple in Scotland who had just moved into an old castle. When they moved in, they decided to empty out the wine cellar and found this large barrel of brandy. They tried moving it and even got a few friends around to help, but they couldn't budge it. In the end, they decided to have a housewarming party and give glasses of brandy out to empty the barrel and make it easier to move. A few days after the party, they went into the cellar and tried to move the barrel again. It still wouldn't move. The husband went to get his saw in order to cut it into smaller pieces and in turns they cut off the top of the barrel. Inside was a dead body and they had drank the brandy that had preserved it.

  • 07.20.2008 5:14 AM PDT

Creepy...

  • 07.20.2008 4:26 PM PDT

" Listen, I don't mean to be a sore loser, but when it's done, if I'm dead, kill him."

I beleive the statue one was made into a YouTube video...
These were great!

  • 07.20.2008 4:33 PM PDT

Posted by: steelboom490
Alright everyone, Lets keep this alive. I have made a rough draft of a story that i have written, called The Serial Killer.
Here it is, tell me if you like it and tell me what i can improve in.

The Serial Killer
Rough Draft
Short Story

It is late at night, 11:20AM to be precise. I’m up late studying for an English test tomorrow. I have grammar down. I need to work on punctuation and spelling though. Grammar? Is that how you spell it? Yes, though I won’t need to spell that tomarow. Tommarow? Tomarrow? I hate spelling. Anyway, it’s late. I should start to finish studying now. I closed my English book and went down the hall to the kitchen. I grabbed an apple and bit into it. It was too sour. I set it down on the table, and went back into the dining room to put my books away. I put them into my backpack and put it near the door for tommarow. I still can’t spell that. I walked back down the hall and climbed the stairs next to the kitchen. I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth, and then changed and climbed into bed.
***
I had a dream that I was being chased by a killer, and he grabbed me. “I’ll be there soon!,” he growled. And then, he dropped my and he vanished. I fell, into a black abyss. I fell for what seemed like 10 seconds, then everything went blurry and then it all went black. Then I woke up with a start.
I looked around my room, I looked through the blackness. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and I saw the Killer, standing there. Right outside my 2nd story window. I tried to scream, but it wouldn’t come out. It was trapped inside my throat, and I felt helpless. I closed for my eyes for a while, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to believe he was there. But I knew. When I opened my eyes again, he was gone.
I drifted off to sleep then, but when I woke up, I was sure it was a dream. Until I saw the window open. I started sweating, and it had nothing to do with the temperature. I saw my bedroom door open, and I knew what had happened. I dropped out of bed, and walked towards the window. There was a ladder outside. The glass of the window had been broken, and the lock was un-locked. Then, it hit me. A serial killer was in my house, or maybe….he still is. He looked liked the killer from my dream, and I knew it was him.
My family, what had happened to them? I was afraid to leave my room, for fear that he could still be in the house. I waited a minute to build up some courage, then walked down the hall into my brother Josh’s room. He was ok, and I was relieved. I crept to his bed, and woke him up. “What do you want?” He scowled. “It’s 5 in the morning, let me sleep.” “It’s important,” I began. “A killer is in the house with us.” I looked at his face in the dawn light, he didn’t believe me. “What are you talking about?” he cried. I told him to shut his mouth; the killer could still be in the house after all. I then explained to him what had happened the previous night. “I need to call the police. Give me your cell phone. He was still a bit skeptical, but I could see he was nervous. I called 911, and we silently went downstairs to my parent’s room. He was armed with a base-ball bat, I had my pocket knife. We found that our parents were fine, and we told them what happened too. I helped my dad push his King-sized bed against the door, and we waited for the police to come.
When the police arrived, we un-barricaded the door and I told them about what had happened. The police searched every room of the house, and found him hiding under my bed, with a knife.


I like the concept, but it needs development:

- You shift from present-tense to past-tense early on in the story, which needs to be fixed. For the purposes of this story, I think that present tense would work well, as it tends to draw the reader into the moment of the situation described.

- The ending is a bit anti-climactic. It doesn't provide the shock factor that a good horror story needs to give the reader chills. Not only that, but it isn't believable. Why would the killer let the protagonist go if he were under the bed ready to strike? My suggestion would be to think of something incredibly, obscenely horrific, and then to work your way back to the story from there, using this horrible idea as the "punch-line" of the narrative.

Here's a good example that may or may not have already been posted (the gist of it, anyway):

A girl climbs into bed, moving her hand to allow her dog to lick her hand. Her dog always sleeps under the bed with her.

She wakes gently in the middle of the night to hear the shower dripping. It's probably nothing. She moves her hand down to the floor and her dog once again licks her hand as if to assure her that everything's fine. She drifts back to sleep.

She wakes again, with a start. The shower is still dripping. Tap... Tap... Tap... She wants to look, but can't find the motivation to get out of her warm bed. No matter. She moves her hand, and yet again her dog licks her, reminding her that she has a nearby companion. Reassured, she falls asleep once again.

She wakes. The shower is dripping faster than it was before. She can't help it now. She has to go see what the problem is. She steps into the darkened bathroom drowsily. She turns on the light, and screams in horror as she sees the carcass of her dog strung up by its tail from the shower-head, bleeding from its open throat into the tub. Unable to process the sight, the girl turns away to look in the mirror. On it, written in what looks like blood, are capital letters sloppily spelling the four words:

HUMANS CAN LICK TOO

  • 07.22.2008 9:37 AM PDT
  • gamertag: [none]
  • user homepage:

Your face
Sorry, I couldnt resist

  • 07.22.2008 9:38 AM PDT

Did anyone read the 2nd thread yet?

  • 07.22.2008 7:25 PM PDT

Posted by: pilesofnoodles
Posted by: steelboom490
Alright everyone, Lets keep this alive. I have made a rough draft of a story that i have written, called The Serial Killer.
Here it is, tell me if you like it and tell me what i can improve in.

The Serial Killer
Rough Draft
Short Story

It is late at night, 11:20AM to be precise. I’m up late studying for an English test tomorrow. I have grammar down. I need to work on punctuation and spelling though. Grammar? Is that how you spell it? Yes, though I won’t need to spell that tomarow. Tommarow? Tomarrow? I hate spelling. Anyway, it’s late. I should start to finish studying now. I closed my English book and went down the hall to the kitchen. I grabbed an apple and bit into it. It was too sour. I set it down on the table, and went back into the dining room to put my books away. I put them into my backpack and put it near the door for tommarow. I still can’t spell that. I walked back down the hall and climbed the stairs next to the kitchen. I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth, and then changed and climbed into bed.
***
I had a dream that I was being chased by a killer, and he grabbed me. “I’ll be there soon!,” he growled. And then, he dropped my and he vanished. I fell, into a black abyss. I fell for what seemed like 10 seconds, then everything went blurry and then it all went black. Then I woke up with a start.
I looked around my room, I looked through the blackness. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and I saw the Killer, standing there. Right outside my 2nd story window. I tried to scream, but it wouldn’t come out. It was trapped inside my throat, and I felt helpless. I closed for my eyes for a while, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to believe he was there. But I knew. When I opened my eyes again, he was gone.
I drifted off to sleep then, but when I woke up, I was sure it was a dream. Until I saw the window open. I started sweating, and it had nothing to do with the temperature. I saw my bedroom door open, and I knew what had happened. I dropped out of bed, and walked towards the window. There was a ladder outside. The glass of the window had been broken, and the lock was un-locked. Then, it hit me. A serial killer was in my house, or maybe….he still is. He looked liked the killer from my dream, and I knew it was him.
My family, what had happened to them? I was afraid to leave my room, for fear that he could still be in the house. I waited a minute to build up some courage, then walked down the hall into my brother Josh’s room. He was ok, and I was relieved. I crept to his bed, and woke him up. “What do you want?” He scowled. “It’s 5 in the morning, let me sleep.” “It’s important,” I began. “A killer is in the house with us.” I looked at his face in the dawn light, he didn’t believe me. “What are you talking about?” he cried. I told him to shut his mouth; the killer could still be in the house after all. I then explained to him what had happened the previous night. “I need to call the police. Give me your cell phone. He was still a bit skeptical, but I could see he was nervous. I called 911, and we silently went downstairs to my parent’s room. He was armed with a base-ball bat, I had my pocket knife. We found that our parents were fine, and we told them what happened too. I helped my dad push his King-sized bed against the door, and we waited for the police to come.
When the police arrived, we un-barricaded the door and I told them about what had happened. The police searched every room of the house, and found him hiding under my bed, with a knife.


I like the concept, but it needs development:

- You shift from present-tense to past-tense early on in the story, which needs to be fixed. For the purposes of this story, I think that present tense would work well, as it tends to draw the reader into the moment of the situation described.

- The ending is a bit anti-climactic. It doesn't provide the shock factor that a good horror story needs to give the reader chills. Not only that, but it isn't believable. Why would the killer let the protagonist go if he were under the bed ready to strike? My suggestion would be to think of something incredibly, obscenely horrific, and then to work your way back to the story from there, using this horrible idea as the "punch-line" of the narrative.

Here's a good example that may or may not have already been posted (the gist of it, anyway):

A girl climbs into bed, moving her hand to allow her dog to lick her hand. Her dog always sleeps under the bed with her.

She wakes gently in the middle of the night to hear the shower dripping. It's probably nothing. She moves her hand down to the floor and her dog once again licks her hand as if to assure her that everything's fine. She drifts back to sleep.

She wakes again, with a start. The shower is still dripping. Tap... Tap... Tap... She wants to look, but can't find the motivation to get out of her warm bed. No matter. She moves her hand, and yet again her dog licks her, reminding her that she has a nearby companion. Reassured, she falls asleep once again.

She wakes. The shower is dripping faster than it was before. She can't help it now. She has to go see what the problem is. She steps into the darkened bathroom drowsily. She turns on the light, and screams in horror as she sees the carcass of her dog strung up by its tail from the shower-head, bleeding from its open throat into the tub. Unable to process the sight, the girl turns away to look in the mirror. On it, written in what looks like blood, are capital letters sloppily spelling the four words:

HUMANS CAN LICK TOO

Alright, thanks for the tips. :P

  • 07.22.2008 7:26 PM PDT