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Halloween Fun - Write

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Postby Mystery » Sun Oct 08, 2006 8:39 pm

I love halloween, so hope to get some of you to participate. The only goal here is to have FUN and write a short story having something to do with halloween. If you even have to ask exactly what that means then don't even bother to participate, cause I really don't feel like wasting time explaining something that is pretty cut and dry in the first place. Just write something and have FUN. It doesn't matter if it is scary, cute, boring, stupid, funny....just have a good time.....And to make it more of a challenge, you have to have your arms tied behind your back and type with your nose :p *just kidding, for those that um didn't get that*

*Just a little personal preference here, the more sick and twisted, the better : :devil: *


Oh, one last thing....To be courteous, please comment on at least one of the stories that are written *if/when that happens*.
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Postby David Whyld » Sun Oct 08, 2006 8:57 pm

I've done mine in drabble format. 100 words, not counting the title. (It's hard typing more with your nose. Ouch.)


A Halloween Tale

They'd hung, drawn and quartered him. Pulled his arms off, broken his legs and kicked his head across the marketplace like a football. Right now, they were feeding certain parts of his anatomy to the fish in the local river.

“I think he was really mean to us,” said Timmy, aged 5. “All we did was knock on his door.”

“Yes,” said Jimmy, aged 7. “Some people just don’t want to play nice.” He fed one of Mr Crocket’s fingers to the fish. “This’ll certainly serve him right for slamming the door on us when we went trick or treating.”
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Postby Campbell » Mon Oct 09, 2006 12:21 pm

Jimmy and Timmy stared silently into the water for a while, each mulling over the justness of the situation.

Timmy noticed it first. A little bubble here and there followed by a small stirring in the water. Just then, there was a strange gargling noise, and slowly from the centre of the disruption, the dismembered parts, somehow reunited with their other members, rose out of the water.

The boys stared at the hideous formation, then at each other. Before they could run from the monstrosity, it began to speak.

“You picked the wrong day to feed me to the fish…”
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Postby Kaos » Mon Oct 09, 2006 11:24 pm

Campbell wrote:Jimmy and Timmy stared silently into the water for a while, each mulling over the justness of the situation.

Timmy noticed it first. A little bubble here and there followed by a small stirring in the water. Just then, there was a strange gargling noise, and slowly from the centre of the disruption, the dismembered parts, somehow reunited with their other members, rose out of the water.

The boys stared at the hideous formation, then at each other. Before they could run from the monstrosity, it began to speak.

“You picked the wrong day to feed me to the fish…”

I haven't laghed so hard for a while now, thanks!
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Postby Mystery » Wed Oct 11, 2006 4:37 am

It is days like this that makes my heart pound with excitement and anticipation. So many unsuspecting parents warn their little ones of the dangers of strangers, but ironically send them out on this very night to call upon strangers to tempt them with the promise of sweet treats. However, the sweetest treat is being able to hand pick my next victim from the comfort of my own domicile.

The innocent glimmer in their youthful little eyes as they look at me expectantly, awaiting a promise of pleasure for a later time from the sweet which I drop into their treat bag. But the treat is all mine. For I can see which ones are accompanied by friends, siblings, or even parents. And then there are the ones left unattended, some so timid and frightened to even ring the bell, but the promise of that treat overpowers them. Those are the ones I make my selection from.

Their eyes wide open, cautious and wary. You see, it is their fear that I feed off the most. It makes it so simple to gain their trust. With a couple of well placed words, I can point out perhaps how a tree looks menacing and could easily hide a person waiting for them to come near. So simply, can I subtly suggest that something, anything, away from the safety of my stoop can bring them the slightest harm. I comfort their fears that I created and gain their trust. And I succeed.

Their delicate hands are cool to the touch and tremor slightly in fear as I lead them in, but soon warm once the door is closed and they are separated from that evil world outside. I quite enjoy that temporary warmth of their skin before I release them from all of their fears. I hold their small hands until the warmth fades, and the cold sets in.

…And the bell rings once again, and those beautiful little words dance in my ears from the other side of my door.

Trick or Treat
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Postby David Whyld » Wed Oct 11, 2006 9:37 am

It was the night of Halloween and the Blood-Drenched Crew were gathered in the house of the Blood Lord to plot their next move.

“FELLOWS,” intoned the hulking fellow called Samhain who towered over the others in his blood-soaked garb, “THIS IS GOING TO BE ONE HALLOWEEN THIS TOWN NEVER FORGETS!”

There was a general murmuring of agreement from the brethren.

“FELLOWS,” went on Samhain, brandishing his Mace of Painful Annihilation above his head, “WE, THE BLOOD-DRENCHED CREW, ARE GOING TO RAIN BLOODY PAIN AND RETRIBUTION DOWN ON THE HEADS OF THE UNSUSPECTING!”

The brethren nodded in agreement. Several clenched their fists together and laughed in anticipation of the forthcoming bloodshed.

“FELLOWS!” cried Samhain. “WHEN WE’RE FINISHED TONIGHT, NO ONE IN THIS MISERABLE, BACKWATER TOWN WILL EVER FORGET THE NAME OF THE BLOOD-DRENCHED CREW! WE WILL VISIT MINDLESS VENGEANCE AND TERRIBLE-“

A cry from downstairs interrupted the Blood Lord’s sermon:

”Sa-mmmmmmmmmmmmm! Come and get your tea! It’s baked potatoes and peas! Your favourite!

Samhain sighed and set his Mace of Painful Annihilation (amazing what you could do with a tube of glue and an old rolling pin) down. “Fellows,” he said, “gotta go for me tea. But when I get back, we’re gonna give this town a trick or treating night it’ll never forget.”
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Postby J. J. Guest » Wed Oct 11, 2006 3:48 pm

David Whyld wrote:”Sa-mmmmmmmmmmmmm! Come and get your tea! It’s baked potatoes and peas! Your favourite!

Good story! But I wonder how Samhain got to be such a hulking fellow when his diet is so protein-deficient?
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Postby Mystery » Wed Oct 11, 2006 7:34 pm

hehee, that was kind of cute
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Postby David Whyld » Wed Oct 11, 2006 7:55 pm

The Amazing Poodle Boy wrote:
David Whyld wrote:”Sa-mmmmmmmmmmmmm! Come and get your tea! It’s baked potatoes and peas! Your favourite!

Good story! But I wonder how Samhain got to be such a hulking fellow when his diet is so protein-deficient?

Artistic licence.
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Postby David Whyld » Wed Oct 11, 2006 8:02 pm

In all honesty, he should probably have thought things over before uttering the ill-advised comment “go on, do your worst!”

They'd been the fifth bunch of trick or treaters he'd had that night. The first bunch he'd given a toffee apple to. The second bunch had a normal apple. The third bunch had been greeted with a sigh and then, grudgingly, he’d dipped into his pocket and given them some coins. The fourth bunch, his patience really tried now, he’d told to go away. The fifth group he'd yelled at.

“You miserable old so-and-so!” one of them had retorted. “Give us a treat or else!”

And then he had uttered the ill-advised words: “go on, do your worst!”

It had seemed a safe enough thing to say at the time. After all, he was a grown man and they were just kids. Their worst couldn’t be anything bad, could it?

Could it…?

___

It was getting a little hot, he realised. A little… stuffy. And what was that smell? Ah yes.

His feet were on fire.

All in all, he really should have thought things over first.
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Postby Chenshaw » Thu Oct 12, 2006 6:13 pm

It was a dark and stormy night as I hunched over my old Underwood and picked away at the keys. My story unfolded as chills crawled down my back.

A wolf howled in the distance, I typed. And a wolf howled in the distance.

I knew there was something strange about this ancient piece of ironwork, which I bought at a Halloween-day flea market in the Marshes, from the first time I typed on it. It didn't clack when I struck the keys, it groaned. It didn't zing when I returned the paper, it wailed. The night, though, the night was the time the typewriter really came to life.

Once, I was typing in the wee small hours, and when I removed the page, it was not what I'd typed - or least what I thought I'd typed. I took it to an antiquarian friend who deciphered the medieval Latin incantantion.

Tonight, exactly one year after buying the demonic machine, I am conducting an experiment.

... and a flash of lighting stitched the sky to the land. My room, lit by a single candle, suddenly burst into view, and a clap of thunder caused my cat to jump off the table and hide under my chair.

There was a loud rap at the door... RAP RAP RAP, went my door. But he didn't have the nerve to open it. Niether did I. RAP RAP RAP, went the door again.

I couldn't stop myself now. I had to follow through with the experiment. The door burst open, and a dark, hooded shape blew in among a swirl of golden leaves. I ignored the crashing of my door against the opposite wall, and brushed a dry leaf off my keys. The axe held high, the otherworldly executioner bore down on his trembling prey. A SWISH behind me did not keep me from the climax of my maniacal story. And it was brought down with such swiftness, accuracy and force, like a guillotine blade, that the victim never felt the darkness come for his soul...'

The night was still dark, but the storm had subsided when three children and thier teenage chaperone, all dressed in costumes of the damned, knocked on the door of the small, secluded bungalow. As they knocked the door fell open. Golden leaves, red blood, white-faced body... the screams were swallowed by the surrounding trees and hedges. The typewriter sat innocently on the table, and waited for the next touch of human fingers.
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