Tue Feb 22, 2005 2:01 pm
Thank you, judges, for the comments and advice offered; I'll keep them in mind for the next round. A thank you to other contestants for the congratulations, which is very kind of you. ^_^
I think everyone did very well for a first round, and good luck to all in the next.
Now to see what Round 2 is about ... *toddles off*
I think everyone did very well for a first round, and good luck to all in the next.
Now to see what Round 2 is about ... *toddles off*
Wed Feb 23, 2005 12:24 am
Hmm, working a bit on chapter 2. I knew about all the problems, it's a problem I've had for some time and am trying to fix.
Oh, in case anyone cares, my untitled story is pretty much my experience on Valentines, from always being a second late, to griping to my brother, to wanting to do anything, I even had thoughts about selling it instead of sending it. Oh, and Bonnie is a friend of mine who I've known online for a while who helped get my old account back the first time it was frozen
Oh, in case anyone cares, my untitled story is pretty much my experience on Valentines, from always being a second late, to griping to my brother, to wanting to do anything, I even had thoughts about selling it instead of sending it. Oh, and Bonnie is a friend of mine who I've known online for a while who helped get my old account back the first time it was frozen
Thu Feb 24, 2005 3:25 pm
Aww thats really nice that your story was real then. And very nice of you to give your card to Bonnie
Thu Feb 24, 2005 11:45 pm
I'm working on Chapter 2, but this is the one of the first times I've written this type of story, so it looks like I might not get it up until later tomorrow. Just wanted to give you a heads up. 
Fri Feb 25, 2005 3:39 am
I'm going to have to leave the competition, I just can't find the time, energy or inspiration to write, and this is meant to be a positive expereince. Sorry.
Fri Feb 25, 2005 3:44 am
Agh...it's going to be hard to finish this in time...I'll do my best, but no guarantees..I'm only halfway through and I have a busy day tomorrow.
Fri Feb 25, 2005 3:52 am
Ack! I completely forgot. Only have 200 words.
-works-
-works-
Fri Feb 25, 2005 9:08 am
There is approximately 15 hours left to post your stories.
Sorry you had to leave Hellyer...
Sorry you had to leave Hellyer...
Fri Feb 25, 2005 9:22 am
Sorry to see so many people withdrawing... I guess producing a good story is more demanding than I thought.
Fri Feb 25, 2005 11:44 am
Council of the Night - 1233 words
I should introduce myself, really, shouldn't I? I'm a creature of the night. Some people call them ghosts, and others call them phantoms, but we're just the freaks that people rejected from your community. If you discard a friend, one of us is born. We stand for the hurt in the world, and we can neither live, nor die. It's a harsh, miserable life, so we try to entertain ourselves as much as we can. If you hear blinds clattering or the branches of a tree shaking at night, that isn't the wind, as your parents tell you. It's us, trying to wake everyone up. If we can't sleep, why should anyone else be able to? But what about me? Well, my name is Esgðth, and I'm a member of the council. The council of the night is a big organization, and we try to teach people the lessons of life. At least that's what they call it, it's a little less glorified than that. I'll fill you in on my latest victim, a little puppy dog. I had been watching her, sitting at the window observing her habits for two years before all of this took place.
It was a dark, windy night. Above me, the unforgiving rain clouds hovered, threatening to spill out their contents. I was sheltered, though, beneath the ledge above the window I was sitting at, watching the lazy dog slowly climbing into her basket in the old, traditional kitchen. She raised her front paw to her face, and licked it. I had never liked dogs. They relaxed all day, never doing any work, just slobbering over their owner, try to steal some food or guilt their 'friends' into relinquishing their dinner so that they can gorge down more food for another 5 minutes. Lazy, greedy dogs.
Looking back at the cocker spaniel, I was reminded why I hate it so much. Sitting in its basket, so heavenly, it smilied at its young owner, who was ascending to stairs going to his bedroom. As the dog could hear the last stair being stood upon, and the creaking sound leaking out of the corridor, she stopped the front she put on, and gained a more savage grin. Using her mouth, she tore open cupboard, and clawed out the food that was hidden there. She started by tearing open a packet of rice, but tasting the bland flavour of it, she rejected it by throwing the burst packet across the kitchen floor, sending the grains of rice everywhere. Next, she attacked a packet of crisps, and she found these much tastier. The dog just stood there, crunching at the crisps, with the shards flying everywhere. Very few of the crisps ever made her stomach, but wasn't it always that way? Dogs not being bothered to swallow? As she greedily leapt into her second packet of crisps, she was unaware of what was going on around her. This was my time to strike.
I pried open the window, silently, careful to avoid any creaks so as to not wake anyone up. Turning my head away from the cold night, I turned to see the spaniel still enjoying the crisps, not phased by the cold air entering the room. Letting out a slight cough to distract the dog from the feast that lay on the kitchen floor in front of her, she span around, eager to see what fiend had distracted her from the meal. Never, in my two years of surveying her, had I seen such a look on the dog's face. The moon-lit eyes had widened, and she stared with disbelief at how hideous a creature could stand before her. The torn, black hair stood on end as if bats lived there. The disfigured face stood beneath that, and covered with scars, it wasn't a pretty sight either. One of the eyes had fallen out, and it its place, someone had placed a pure, white ball, always watching. The worst, however, was what was beneath my face, but englufed in shadows, the mongrel had no way to tell what I looked like.
Gently floating to the ground, my heels made a metallic click against the wooden floor that the owners had recently put in. What a shame it'll be when I ruined it, I though in my snide manner. The dog opened her mouth, as if to let out a bark, but the look that I gave her made her close her mouth, silently. I took another step forward towards the dog, revealing more of my body. Above the waist, I had on no clothes, but this only revealed the torn body. Wounds were made all around it, so wide and deep that one could peer inside my body. The largest one, being over my heart, showed everyone the constant beating of the darkened blood around what was left of me. Although I had no mouth, I smiled within me, with the dog having smelled the foul odour that I had acquired, permanently flitting between rubbish dumps and land fills, trying to find a place to live where the humans wouldn't find me. This all added to the fear of the dog, but I think the main area of the fear was that she knew what would happen, deep down. All our victims do, they just don't realise it without us triggering such grim memories of rejection.
I took the final step forward, and I was standing over the dog, my body fully revealed by the dim light from the parents' bedroom. The dog could see what was underneath my waist, and for the first time, she was truly sorry for stealing the owner's food; for rejecting its owner in the park; even memories of when it was first born, stealing her brother's milk. She knew what had to happen now. Letting out a small, pungent breath from my nostrils, the beasts, all living within me, flew out. some shaped like lizards, or birds, some formed from gases and others of solid. Our death is never slow, it's always very fast. I floated back to the window, and watched my minions attack the poor dog. The dark shapes floated around her first, and then for each and every rejection the victim has made, one flies into their body, causing immense pain. As the last one entered the body, the dog slowly withered, each of the shapes stealing parts of its mind. Leaving the house, I could see what we had left behind. The empty skin of the dog had collapsed against the ground, with nothing inside. Staining the floor was a deep, red blood. It flooded the kitchen, and seeped under the door, giving the family a surprise before they could see the true horror the next morning.
I know I shouldn't have feelings, formed as a being of darkness, but whilst I was looking over the carnage that had been left behind in the kitchen that day, I saw the young boy, and the look on his face as he saw the drained carcass of what had been his life for so long. That struck me in the heart, as it always does, but you cannot do anything about it. You are a property of the night, and I had to do my next duty. But be careful, nobody is safe from the wrath of night. Especially you.
Fri Feb 25, 2005 1:41 pm
Title: One Must Die -- 1499 words
Garlic is the worst thing in the world.
Apparently, most vampires are allergic to garlic. Unfortunately, so am I. However, it is my only -- no, one of my three only -- weapons against my enemy. Another one is the dark. The final one is a secret. At least, it is a secret for now until I deal my final blow to him. I am afraid he knows about it though. That is why he is after me at the same time I am after him. The winner is the one who attacks first. We each have only one chance to deal a fatal blow.
My eyes are watering. I swear, garlic is truly the worst thing in the world. I don't have any idea why I have to take this with me if I'm so allergic to it. No wait, I do have an idea. It wasn't my idea though, and if I may say so, it's a bad idea.
"He might be allergic to garlic, you know. Most vampires are allergic to garlic. If he sees you brandishing some garlic, he might be taken by surprise and re-consider what to do. While he's doing that, you can attack him. Put an end to him," my mother had told me.
"But why <i>me</i>?" I whined. "I'm not even eighteen yet! I'm not old enough to take on such a mission. Someone with more experience should do this!"
"You're going to do it on your eighteenth birthday," my father announced. "So you <i>will</i> be old enough for the mission."
Talk about having your bubble popped. I'd always lived under the security of my parents' strength and wealth. My father was the most powerful and richest of his generation and my mother didn't live a shabby life either. (Her family has an estate at the foot of the Transylvanian Alps. We go there every winter for holidays. It's massive. I've never finished exploring it.) I'd always assumed my transition into the adult world would be painless. After all, don't my parents dote on me?
Apparently not.
Oh, they'd warned me to be careful. It's partly my fault I'm in this mess in the first place. Their methods of being careful didn't appeal to me though. "Make friends with our friends" was what they had told me. I don't like being as prejudiced as them. I like making friends outside of the normal social circle. I thought they'd approve of the new friend I made last month -- the son of one of the most powerful Romanian families. You don't meet many Romanians outside of the country. How was I to know his family is my family's greatest enemy? The family that my family has been fighting for generations, each killing the other time and time again? It's taboo to befriend each other. Even I understand it. Vampires and vampire hunters simply cannot be friends. The only way to amend the situation is to kill the other. Kill or be killed.
So tonight will be the final showdown between the vampire and the vampire-hunter. We are each the sole heir or heiress to our family. One of us must die. There will be no more feud after this, because it will be all over. This is when it all ends. One of us will die.
I groan inwardly. It's really not a pretty thought to have to kill your friend and it's not like I enjoy this feud. I don't want him to die. There's only fifteen more minutes to midnight and then I shall be eighteen. When members of my family become grown-up at eighteen, we gain a new power to fight our enemy. It's hereditary, so I have no fears about not having the power. All I'm afraid of is that he may find and kill me before I am eighteen. So far I have been successful in avoiding him.
A creak. I freeze. Someone is coming. I flee.
The flickering torches on the walls lengthen the shadows. If only this castle was not the chosen place for the showdown! I can't see anything. "Use it to your advantage," my mother advised me, "and creep up behind him under cover of the night. As soon as it begins to dawn, he will see things clearer and you will not be able to fight him." She seems to forget I have a problem seeing things in the dark as well.
He, my victim-to-be, is apparently very experienced in killing my kind. Another reason why I should not be the assassin. The odds seem to be against me. It would have been better to get an experienced relative to do the job. I've got plenty of relatives who have killed members of <i>his</i> family. Why, I'm sure my parents could do it. But no, it's my job. I argued that I should try killing someone who hasn't got any kind of experienced either, so it might be fairer. Imagine what my parents said to that.
"Kill someone innocent? That's morally inethical."
Excuse me, so what am I? I'm innocent as well. I've never killed anyone. He's just going to kill me because I belong to my family. Sheesh.
Enough whining though; it's time to get serious. Three minutes and I will be eighteen.
A brainwave strikes me. I must move quickly though.
<hr>
One minute to midnight, I confront him. He's holding garlic as well. His eyes are watering. It seems that he <i>is</i> allergic, like me. We stare at each other, both taken off-guard.
"So," he said, "I guess you also know that most vampires are allergic to garlic."
"Yes," I murmur in agreement, my mind whirring at a frantic pace. I need a new plan and quickly. "I take it you did too."
"Of course I did."
We stare at each other, not really knowing what to do.
"I don't want to kill you," I said at last. I start to cry. His poker face twitches sadly for a while before resuming its expressionless attitude. So he doesn't want to kill me either.
"I must kill you though."
"Okay," I agree readily. He's surprised. I don't think he believes me. I take a step forward. "Do it already." He glances at the clock. Only thirty seconds to midnight. He has to do it before I turn eighteen.
"It's going to hurt a bit," he told me. He moves forward. To do it fast, you have to be in close contact. The stake is ready to pierce me through the heart from the back.
Thank goodness he is such a softie. He puts his arms around me. At least I get a hug before I die. He lifts his arm with stake in hand, readying himself to kill me. I bite him.
<hr>
He's rubbing the two puncture holes I gave him on his neck. My newly developed fangs feel a bit tired. Biting is really actually harder than I thought. The stake lies deserted on the ground with our garlic in a heap. Garlic is really the worst thing in the world. I make a motion to move away and he agrees.
"That was a close one," I remark. He wrinkles his nose. He's lost his humanity and is now a vampire. I guess he's not going to be a good loser about this. I slip my hand through his. "Think about it this way, ex-vampire hunter. You get to live forever. Or at least for a few thousand years." I frown. I never really knew how long vampires live. We were always getting killed by vampire hunters.
He sighs and squeezes my hand. "I suppose you're right," he said resignedly. Oh, so he's not such a sore loser after all. He smiles at me, then asks questioningly, "But how did you get your fangs? It's only just midnight now. You're not supposed to turn into a full-fledged vampire until you're eighteen, are you?"
"Oh," I said in what I hoped was an off-hand manner. "I just changed the times on the clocks." He raises his eyebrows. "Well, some of them. And hoped that you weren't going to go into a room where the time was different. I knew you usually don't wear a watch, so I took a gamble on your bad sense of time and won."
He laughed and tweaked my nose. I like it.
"Okay, now tell me how you turn into a bat and where my new home is. I take it I can't live like a vampire hunter anymore." I shake my head. "You just spin around on your right foot, wrap your arms around yourself and close your eyes," I told him. "Then follow my lead."
As I watch him turn into a bat, I smile. My parents are going to be pleased. My mother will be pleased about the garlic. She'll insist it tipped the scale in my favour. But I still think that garlic is the worst thing in the world.
Garlic is the worst thing in the world.
Apparently, most vampires are allergic to garlic. Unfortunately, so am I. However, it is my only -- no, one of my three only -- weapons against my enemy. Another one is the dark. The final one is a secret. At least, it is a secret for now until I deal my final blow to him. I am afraid he knows about it though. That is why he is after me at the same time I am after him. The winner is the one who attacks first. We each have only one chance to deal a fatal blow.
My eyes are watering. I swear, garlic is truly the worst thing in the world. I don't have any idea why I have to take this with me if I'm so allergic to it. No wait, I do have an idea. It wasn't my idea though, and if I may say so, it's a bad idea.
"He might be allergic to garlic, you know. Most vampires are allergic to garlic. If he sees you brandishing some garlic, he might be taken by surprise and re-consider what to do. While he's doing that, you can attack him. Put an end to him," my mother had told me.
"But why <i>me</i>?" I whined. "I'm not even eighteen yet! I'm not old enough to take on such a mission. Someone with more experience should do this!"
"You're going to do it on your eighteenth birthday," my father announced. "So you <i>will</i> be old enough for the mission."
Talk about having your bubble popped. I'd always lived under the security of my parents' strength and wealth. My father was the most powerful and richest of his generation and my mother didn't live a shabby life either. (Her family has an estate at the foot of the Transylvanian Alps. We go there every winter for holidays. It's massive. I've never finished exploring it.) I'd always assumed my transition into the adult world would be painless. After all, don't my parents dote on me?
Apparently not.
Oh, they'd warned me to be careful. It's partly my fault I'm in this mess in the first place. Their methods of being careful didn't appeal to me though. "Make friends with our friends" was what they had told me. I don't like being as prejudiced as them. I like making friends outside of the normal social circle. I thought they'd approve of the new friend I made last month -- the son of one of the most powerful Romanian families. You don't meet many Romanians outside of the country. How was I to know his family is my family's greatest enemy? The family that my family has been fighting for generations, each killing the other time and time again? It's taboo to befriend each other. Even I understand it. Vampires and vampire hunters simply cannot be friends. The only way to amend the situation is to kill the other. Kill or be killed.
So tonight will be the final showdown between the vampire and the vampire-hunter. We are each the sole heir or heiress to our family. One of us must die. There will be no more feud after this, because it will be all over. This is when it all ends. One of us will die.
I groan inwardly. It's really not a pretty thought to have to kill your friend and it's not like I enjoy this feud. I don't want him to die. There's only fifteen more minutes to midnight and then I shall be eighteen. When members of my family become grown-up at eighteen, we gain a new power to fight our enemy. It's hereditary, so I have no fears about not having the power. All I'm afraid of is that he may find and kill me before I am eighteen. So far I have been successful in avoiding him.
A creak. I freeze. Someone is coming. I flee.
The flickering torches on the walls lengthen the shadows. If only this castle was not the chosen place for the showdown! I can't see anything. "Use it to your advantage," my mother advised me, "and creep up behind him under cover of the night. As soon as it begins to dawn, he will see things clearer and you will not be able to fight him." She seems to forget I have a problem seeing things in the dark as well.
He, my victim-to-be, is apparently very experienced in killing my kind. Another reason why I should not be the assassin. The odds seem to be against me. It would have been better to get an experienced relative to do the job. I've got plenty of relatives who have killed members of <i>his</i> family. Why, I'm sure my parents could do it. But no, it's my job. I argued that I should try killing someone who hasn't got any kind of experienced either, so it might be fairer. Imagine what my parents said to that.
"Kill someone innocent? That's morally inethical."
Excuse me, so what am I? I'm innocent as well. I've never killed anyone. He's just going to kill me because I belong to my family. Sheesh.
Enough whining though; it's time to get serious. Three minutes and I will be eighteen.
A brainwave strikes me. I must move quickly though.
<hr>
One minute to midnight, I confront him. He's holding garlic as well. His eyes are watering. It seems that he <i>is</i> allergic, like me. We stare at each other, both taken off-guard.
"So," he said, "I guess you also know that most vampires are allergic to garlic."
"Yes," I murmur in agreement, my mind whirring at a frantic pace. I need a new plan and quickly. "I take it you did too."
"Of course I did."
We stare at each other, not really knowing what to do.
"I don't want to kill you," I said at last. I start to cry. His poker face twitches sadly for a while before resuming its expressionless attitude. So he doesn't want to kill me either.
"I must kill you though."
"Okay," I agree readily. He's surprised. I don't think he believes me. I take a step forward. "Do it already." He glances at the clock. Only thirty seconds to midnight. He has to do it before I turn eighteen.
"It's going to hurt a bit," he told me. He moves forward. To do it fast, you have to be in close contact. The stake is ready to pierce me through the heart from the back.
Thank goodness he is such a softie. He puts his arms around me. At least I get a hug before I die. He lifts his arm with stake in hand, readying himself to kill me. I bite him.
<hr>
He's rubbing the two puncture holes I gave him on his neck. My newly developed fangs feel a bit tired. Biting is really actually harder than I thought. The stake lies deserted on the ground with our garlic in a heap. Garlic is really the worst thing in the world. I make a motion to move away and he agrees.
"That was a close one," I remark. He wrinkles his nose. He's lost his humanity and is now a vampire. I guess he's not going to be a good loser about this. I slip my hand through his. "Think about it this way, ex-vampire hunter. You get to live forever. Or at least for a few thousand years." I frown. I never really knew how long vampires live. We were always getting killed by vampire hunters.
He sighs and squeezes my hand. "I suppose you're right," he said resignedly. Oh, so he's not such a sore loser after all. He smiles at me, then asks questioningly, "But how did you get your fangs? It's only just midnight now. You're not supposed to turn into a full-fledged vampire until you're eighteen, are you?"
"Oh," I said in what I hoped was an off-hand manner. "I just changed the times on the clocks." He raises his eyebrows. "Well, some of them. And hoped that you weren't going to go into a room where the time was different. I knew you usually don't wear a watch, so I took a gamble on your bad sense of time and won."
He laughed and tweaked my nose. I like it.
"Okay, now tell me how you turn into a bat and where my new home is. I take it I can't live like a vampire hunter anymore." I shake my head. "You just spin around on your right foot, wrap your arms around yourself and close your eyes," I told him. "Then follow my lead."
As I watch him turn into a bat, I smile. My parents are going to be pleased. My mother will be pleased about the garlic. She'll insist it tipped the scale in my favour. But I still think that garlic is the worst thing in the world.
Fri Feb 25, 2005 5:30 pm
Decided to withdraw. I had a problem of too many good ideas, but no whatsoever to flesh them out.
Fri Feb 25, 2005 5:44 pm
I'm going to end up cutting this chapter really close as far as the deadline goes. I'll probably be able to post it early this evening (EST) because I have to go out for a few hours.
Fri Feb 25, 2005 6:33 pm
Hunted down (1,160 words)
That night I heard the hoof beats again.
I lay awake in my bed, listening as their sound grew louder and louder, until I couldn't hear it anymore. I turned the lights on, jumped off the bed and opened the window.
The town's square was deserted, but I could still make out, on the edge of hearing, a faint sound of hoof beats.
At first I had tried to ignore them, pretending they existed only in my mind. I tried to go on with everyday's life.
But they kept following me everywhere, driving me crazy, and I knew they were coming for me.
So I ran away.
Through many countries, desperately trying to put as many kilometers as possible between me and them.
For a while, I thought they'd lost my tracks or given up. After many long, terrible nights I could sleep again.
It took them only a week to find me, and when they returned it was worse than ever.
That night they had been louder than ever, and they had stayed for a longer time. Even when they night was silent again, I couldn't sleep. I didn't dare to, because I was afraid. Afraid to wake up at the sound of hoof beats.
When it dawned, pale and tired, I went downstairs. The owner of the hotel was serving breakfast, and I asked him if he heard a horse passing in the square during the night.
"Oh, no, sir. They're not allowed into the town's center, they would make a mess in the streets," he laughed.
I went paler, and didn't eat anything.
Until the sun stayed high in the sky, I sat in a corner of my room staring out of the window. At sunset I shivered. I suddendly wanted to be with other people, and feared my loneliness.
I went out in the crowded streets, full of people returning home for dinner, and felt immediately better. I couldn't hear anything but people's voices.
I walked for a long time, lost in the trail of my thoughts, until a chilly wind made me shiver. I looked up and realized with horror that my feet had brought me out of the main streets and into the outskirts of the town. Trees had already started replacing the houses on both sides of the street, and their dark shapes looked eerie in the moonlight. Because the moon was already high in the sky, a silvery full moon. But I was sure that the previous night it was only half moon.
I turned and started walking back in town, but the more I walked the more the trees around me thickened. I ended up walking in a dark forest, because the branches of the trees blocked the moonlight, and I was afraid. Afraid not of the dark, but of the things it could hide.
And then, louder than the sound of my maddened hearth, louder than ever, louder than anything human, I heard the hoof beats. They were coming for me.
I tried to run away, but I knew I couldn't escape. I could hear them behind me, growing louder and louder. I turned my head to see what was coming, and in that moment I stumbled on a fallen branch and fell on my knees.
I didn't even bother to straighten myself up: I knew I couldn't escape. I sat on the cold ground and faced my destiny.
The horse was approaching at gallop speed, and I could already make out its outline. The rider was wearing a black hooded cloak that hid his face.
He stopped the horse a few meters away from me and stood motionless for a while, looking down at me.
"Who are you?" I finally asked with shaky tones.
"You should know," he replied in a low, quiet voice. "Because you are the one who killed me."
"No!" I whispered, horrified at the sight but still unable to look away from him.
He pulled back his hood and I couldn't help giving out a loud cry. Because above his bleeding neck there was nothing but air. He didn't have a head.
"With this very same axe," he went on, showing me a bloodstained weapon, "in a night of full moon, two months and five days ago."
"No, it's not possible," I repeated. "You're dead!"
"Yes. But I have come back. Not for my lost life, not for a personal revenge, but for the girl I loved."
The headless horseman turned around and pointed to a pale shape that was slowly coming towards us.
It was a beautiful, young girl in a white dress. But the dress was soaked with water and covered with bloodstains, and she was staring in front of her at something nobody else could see.
She was holding something in her hands.
"You were jealous of us. Jealous of our love. That's the reason why you killed me."
I put my hands on my ears, not wanting to hear its voice, but it was as if the words reached the brain directly.
And I was forced to hear the story of my crime directly from my victim.
"We were friends, once," the spectre began. "I shared everything, my time, my money, my life with you. But I could not share the girl I loved.
That night I had asked you to meet me next to the lake. I told you we were going to get married. But you were crazy, you started screaming at me. And, in the end, you saw an axe used by woodcutters, and with that you killed me.
I will not annoy you with a story you already know. You ran away, thinking it was finished. But it was only the beginning.
When she arrived and saw my dead body, something in her mind broke. She drowned herself in the lake."
The girl was holding a head, now I could see it clearly.
"I didn't want to! I was out of my mind!" I screamed. "And I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, it's not my fault... Not to her, not to her," I sobbed.
"Her father is powerful, and his power is not that of money. She was his only daughter. He brought my soul back to get his revenge.
You knew you could not escape, not even by passing in the world of humans."
I bent my head.
"Then kill me," I said, closing my eyes.
"No," he whispered. "I can not take your life. Through the world of dead, the world of demons and into the world of humans, I was sent to hunt you down. For all the years of your life, and all the ages of human people, that will be your punishment. And you will have no friends nor love, and will live in fear and remorse."
When I opened my eyes again he was gone, but I could still hear his hollow laugh and the sound of hoof beats.
That night I heard the hoof beats again.
I lay awake in my bed, listening as their sound grew louder and louder, until I couldn't hear it anymore. I turned the lights on, jumped off the bed and opened the window.
The town's square was deserted, but I could still make out, on the edge of hearing, a faint sound of hoof beats.
At first I had tried to ignore them, pretending they existed only in my mind. I tried to go on with everyday's life.
But they kept following me everywhere, driving me crazy, and I knew they were coming for me.
So I ran away.
Through many countries, desperately trying to put as many kilometers as possible between me and them.
For a while, I thought they'd lost my tracks or given up. After many long, terrible nights I could sleep again.
It took them only a week to find me, and when they returned it was worse than ever.
That night they had been louder than ever, and they had stayed for a longer time. Even when they night was silent again, I couldn't sleep. I didn't dare to, because I was afraid. Afraid to wake up at the sound of hoof beats.
When it dawned, pale and tired, I went downstairs. The owner of the hotel was serving breakfast, and I asked him if he heard a horse passing in the square during the night.
"Oh, no, sir. They're not allowed into the town's center, they would make a mess in the streets," he laughed.
I went paler, and didn't eat anything.
Until the sun stayed high in the sky, I sat in a corner of my room staring out of the window. At sunset I shivered. I suddendly wanted to be with other people, and feared my loneliness.
I went out in the crowded streets, full of people returning home for dinner, and felt immediately better. I couldn't hear anything but people's voices.
I walked for a long time, lost in the trail of my thoughts, until a chilly wind made me shiver. I looked up and realized with horror that my feet had brought me out of the main streets and into the outskirts of the town. Trees had already started replacing the houses on both sides of the street, and their dark shapes looked eerie in the moonlight. Because the moon was already high in the sky, a silvery full moon. But I was sure that the previous night it was only half moon.
I turned and started walking back in town, but the more I walked the more the trees around me thickened. I ended up walking in a dark forest, because the branches of the trees blocked the moonlight, and I was afraid. Afraid not of the dark, but of the things it could hide.
And then, louder than the sound of my maddened hearth, louder than ever, louder than anything human, I heard the hoof beats. They were coming for me.
I tried to run away, but I knew I couldn't escape. I could hear them behind me, growing louder and louder. I turned my head to see what was coming, and in that moment I stumbled on a fallen branch and fell on my knees.
I didn't even bother to straighten myself up: I knew I couldn't escape. I sat on the cold ground and faced my destiny.
The horse was approaching at gallop speed, and I could already make out its outline. The rider was wearing a black hooded cloak that hid his face.
He stopped the horse a few meters away from me and stood motionless for a while, looking down at me.
"Who are you?" I finally asked with shaky tones.
"You should know," he replied in a low, quiet voice. "Because you are the one who killed me."
"No!" I whispered, horrified at the sight but still unable to look away from him.
He pulled back his hood and I couldn't help giving out a loud cry. Because above his bleeding neck there was nothing but air. He didn't have a head.
"With this very same axe," he went on, showing me a bloodstained weapon, "in a night of full moon, two months and five days ago."
"No, it's not possible," I repeated. "You're dead!"
"Yes. But I have come back. Not for my lost life, not for a personal revenge, but for the girl I loved."
The headless horseman turned around and pointed to a pale shape that was slowly coming towards us.
It was a beautiful, young girl in a white dress. But the dress was soaked with water and covered with bloodstains, and she was staring in front of her at something nobody else could see.
She was holding something in her hands.
"You were jealous of us. Jealous of our love. That's the reason why you killed me."
I put my hands on my ears, not wanting to hear its voice, but it was as if the words reached the brain directly.
And I was forced to hear the story of my crime directly from my victim.
"We were friends, once," the spectre began. "I shared everything, my time, my money, my life with you. But I could not share the girl I loved.
That night I had asked you to meet me next to the lake. I told you we were going to get married. But you were crazy, you started screaming at me. And, in the end, you saw an axe used by woodcutters, and with that you killed me.
I will not annoy you with a story you already know. You ran away, thinking it was finished. But it was only the beginning.
When she arrived and saw my dead body, something in her mind broke. She drowned herself in the lake."
The girl was holding a head, now I could see it clearly.
"I didn't want to! I was out of my mind!" I screamed. "And I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, it's not my fault... Not to her, not to her," I sobbed.
"Her father is powerful, and his power is not that of money. She was his only daughter. He brought my soul back to get his revenge.
You knew you could not escape, not even by passing in the world of humans."
I bent my head.
"Then kill me," I said, closing my eyes.
"No," he whispered. "I can not take your life. Through the world of dead, the world of demons and into the world of humans, I was sent to hunt you down. For all the years of your life, and all the ages of human people, that will be your punishment. And you will have no friends nor love, and will live in fear and remorse."
When I opened my eyes again he was gone, but I could still hear his hollow laugh and the sound of hoof beats.
Fri Feb 25, 2005 10:09 pm
Here's my story! This one was hard, I don't write much "horror".
1,213 words
Disclaimer: All characters and situations in this story are fictional. Any coincidences were not intended.
Dream Horror
Jessica curled up on her worn out sofa with her trusty spiral notebook in her lap. No fancy gadgets for her, not that she could afford them. She murmured to herself as her pen glided across the page. She wasn’t so bad off, she had this small apartment, and sure the building was a bit run down, but so what? When people asked her what she did, she would always respond with a deadpan look and the words, “I’m a starving writer”. That’s right, a starving writer, just like the starving artist. She writes for a living, the problem is it’s not very profitable when you write something no one wants to read…or publish.
She signed and leaned her head closer to the paper. Normally she wrote happy stories with sweet endings, the kind of stories that were supposed to make her readers feel warm and fuzzy inside after reading it. Unfortunately stories like that just weren’t selling…at least not in enough numbers for her to have her stories published. Tonight was different though, she was going to try writing a different type of story. Jessica was going to write a vampire story filled with horror and suspense. After all look where Stephen King is, didn’t he write mostly suspense and horror books?
“The unknowing victim sat in her silent room and tried to relax,” she read along as she wrote, “when suddenly she a creak from behind her…” Jessica broke off frowning. She inserted the word loud into the sentence, “she heard a loud creak from behind her.” She nibbled on her pen cap.
Without warning her old apartment let out an eerie creak, Jessica jumped slightly, knocking over the glass of water she had nestled next to her. “Wonderful,” she snapped partly at the fact she had dumped her water and partly because she had actually jumped, “I’m trying to write horror and instead of spooking the reader out, I’m spooking myself out.” She got up, her feet sliding slightly on the hardwood floors. She set her book on the sofa and roamed around her apartment seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She shook her head in disgust. Had she really expected to find anything?
Jessica went back to the sofa, and reached for her notebook. There was one tiny problem. Her notebook wasn’t on the sofa…as she looked around the room she couldn’t see her notebook anywhere. She was fairly certain; no she was positive she had set it on the sofa. “Obviously someone moved it,” the words came from her mouth before she could stop them. She scoffed at herself, “and obviously I’m going crazy.”
The room creaked again and Jessica felt her heart start to race. She quickly started pacing through the rooms looking for her notebook and uneasily eyeing the shadows in the rooms, even though she knew nothing could be there. Vampire, werewolves, everything they were all a figment of people’s imaginations.
As she walked by the sofa again she felt something reach out and grab her shoulders, at that moment she felt a sense of vertigo as her head swirled. Without warning her feet seemed to fly out from under her and she went down with a loud shriek. She hit the floor hard.
~*~
With a low moan, Jessica’s eyes flickered open. “My head,” was the only coherent thought that went through her mind. The rest was swirls of pain, color, and other sensations. She rolled over and attempted to get up. Her movements sent a wave of pain through her. Her head was throbbing; she must have hit it when that thing grabbed her.
Something had grabbed her, right? She asked herself, she wasn’t making things up? Jessica bit her lip and looked around her warily. She got to her feet and crept through her apartment. All of the lights were off and she couldn’t remember turning them off herself.
She bumped into someone and let out a yelp. Jessica whirled around, heedless of the ache in her head, and tried to flee. A strong pale hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist. “Let me go,” She hissed and turned to her captor. She saw the cold emotionless eyes, the dark hair, and those teeth. “Vampire,” she whispered, her eyes widening, and she tugged at her arm desperately.
“What’s wrong my pet?” A deep sinister voice asked as she tried to escape.
“…You….you vampire!” She screamed at him, “Let go!” She didn’t know why she thought screaming would do anything, but she was panicking.
“Why? You’re already mine,” He placed emphasis on the last word.
Jessica mustered all the sting that she could and snarled on the vampire, “What do you mean yours? I belong to no one!”
“Why fight,” He continued ignoring her words of protest, “after all I’ve already bitten you…” He smirked and let go of her wrist.
She stopped her struggling as her wrist was freed, “you did what?” She asked the vampire in shock. She reached her hands up to her neck and shuddered as she felt her hands touch…
~*~
Jessica’s eyes shot open and she struggled to her feet. She raced toward the bathroom, her heart in her throat and head pounding. She stopped before the mirror and ran her hands over her neck, repeating the words, “please no….oh…please no,” over and over again. Her hands found nothing on her neck and her visual inspection showed no blood or bruises. She surveyed herself and flinched. Besides a nasty looking bump on the head she didn’t look too worse for wear.
As she returned to the safety of her sofa she tried to piece together what must have happened. She could have sworn something had grabbed her…why else would she have fallen. She looked at the floor and laughed. Her glass was lying tipped over, the water spread in a puddle on the floor, smeared in some places. She must have come around to fast. The water combined with an already slippery floor must have been the reason for her fall.
She judged by the sizeable lump on her head, that she must have been knocked out for a little bit. The vampire must have been a dream, her over active imagination getting the best of her because of how spooked she had bee, simple explanations for something that had frightened her so much.
Jessica reached down to pick up her glass and spotted something white sticking out from under the sofa, she tugged at it. “There’s my notebook, it was here all the time,” she smiled ruefully. “It was all my imagination and nothing more.” She looked at what she had written. Suddenly she reached out and tore the page from the notebook. She whirled around crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it into the trash.
“I don’t want to be a published writer that badly.” She told herself. After all why should you do something if you end up scaring yourself have to death? Jessica rubbed her head with a sigh. As she headed toward the kitchen to get an icepack, her hand moved from her head to the back of her neck, she pondered the events of the night as she ran her finger tips over the two puncture wounds…
1,213 words
Disclaimer: All characters and situations in this story are fictional. Any coincidences were not intended.
Dream Horror
Jessica curled up on her worn out sofa with her trusty spiral notebook in her lap. No fancy gadgets for her, not that she could afford them. She murmured to herself as her pen glided across the page. She wasn’t so bad off, she had this small apartment, and sure the building was a bit run down, but so what? When people asked her what she did, she would always respond with a deadpan look and the words, “I’m a starving writer”. That’s right, a starving writer, just like the starving artist. She writes for a living, the problem is it’s not very profitable when you write something no one wants to read…or publish.
She signed and leaned her head closer to the paper. Normally she wrote happy stories with sweet endings, the kind of stories that were supposed to make her readers feel warm and fuzzy inside after reading it. Unfortunately stories like that just weren’t selling…at least not in enough numbers for her to have her stories published. Tonight was different though, she was going to try writing a different type of story. Jessica was going to write a vampire story filled with horror and suspense. After all look where Stephen King is, didn’t he write mostly suspense and horror books?
“The unknowing victim sat in her silent room and tried to relax,” she read along as she wrote, “when suddenly she a creak from behind her…” Jessica broke off frowning. She inserted the word loud into the sentence, “she heard a loud creak from behind her.” She nibbled on her pen cap.
Without warning her old apartment let out an eerie creak, Jessica jumped slightly, knocking over the glass of water she had nestled next to her. “Wonderful,” she snapped partly at the fact she had dumped her water and partly because she had actually jumped, “I’m trying to write horror and instead of spooking the reader out, I’m spooking myself out.” She got up, her feet sliding slightly on the hardwood floors. She set her book on the sofa and roamed around her apartment seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She shook her head in disgust. Had she really expected to find anything?
Jessica went back to the sofa, and reached for her notebook. There was one tiny problem. Her notebook wasn’t on the sofa…as she looked around the room she couldn’t see her notebook anywhere. She was fairly certain; no she was positive she had set it on the sofa. “Obviously someone moved it,” the words came from her mouth before she could stop them. She scoffed at herself, “and obviously I’m going crazy.”
The room creaked again and Jessica felt her heart start to race. She quickly started pacing through the rooms looking for her notebook and uneasily eyeing the shadows in the rooms, even though she knew nothing could be there. Vampire, werewolves, everything they were all a figment of people’s imaginations.
As she walked by the sofa again she felt something reach out and grab her shoulders, at that moment she felt a sense of vertigo as her head swirled. Without warning her feet seemed to fly out from under her and she went down with a loud shriek. She hit the floor hard.
~*~
With a low moan, Jessica’s eyes flickered open. “My head,” was the only coherent thought that went through her mind. The rest was swirls of pain, color, and other sensations. She rolled over and attempted to get up. Her movements sent a wave of pain through her. Her head was throbbing; she must have hit it when that thing grabbed her.
Something had grabbed her, right? She asked herself, she wasn’t making things up? Jessica bit her lip and looked around her warily. She got to her feet and crept through her apartment. All of the lights were off and she couldn’t remember turning them off herself.
She bumped into someone and let out a yelp. Jessica whirled around, heedless of the ache in her head, and tried to flee. A strong pale hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist. “Let me go,” She hissed and turned to her captor. She saw the cold emotionless eyes, the dark hair, and those teeth. “Vampire,” she whispered, her eyes widening, and she tugged at her arm desperately.
“What’s wrong my pet?” A deep sinister voice asked as she tried to escape.
“…You….you vampire!” She screamed at him, “Let go!” She didn’t know why she thought screaming would do anything, but she was panicking.
“Why? You’re already mine,” He placed emphasis on the last word.
Jessica mustered all the sting that she could and snarled on the vampire, “What do you mean yours? I belong to no one!”
“Why fight,” He continued ignoring her words of protest, “after all I’ve already bitten you…” He smirked and let go of her wrist.
She stopped her struggling as her wrist was freed, “you did what?” She asked the vampire in shock. She reached her hands up to her neck and shuddered as she felt her hands touch…
~*~
Jessica’s eyes shot open and she struggled to her feet. She raced toward the bathroom, her heart in her throat and head pounding. She stopped before the mirror and ran her hands over her neck, repeating the words, “please no….oh…please no,” over and over again. Her hands found nothing on her neck and her visual inspection showed no blood or bruises. She surveyed herself and flinched. Besides a nasty looking bump on the head she didn’t look too worse for wear.
As she returned to the safety of her sofa she tried to piece together what must have happened. She could have sworn something had grabbed her…why else would she have fallen. She looked at the floor and laughed. Her glass was lying tipped over, the water spread in a puddle on the floor, smeared in some places. She must have come around to fast. The water combined with an already slippery floor must have been the reason for her fall.
She judged by the sizeable lump on her head, that she must have been knocked out for a little bit. The vampire must have been a dream, her over active imagination getting the best of her because of how spooked she had bee, simple explanations for something that had frightened her so much.
Jessica reached down to pick up her glass and spotted something white sticking out from under the sofa, she tugged at it. “There’s my notebook, it was here all the time,” she smiled ruefully. “It was all my imagination and nothing more.” She looked at what she had written. Suddenly she reached out and tore the page from the notebook. She whirled around crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it into the trash.
“I don’t want to be a published writer that badly.” She told herself. After all why should you do something if you end up scaring yourself have to death? Jessica rubbed her head with a sigh. As she headed toward the kitchen to get an icepack, her hand moved from her head to the back of her neck, she pondered the events of the night as she ran her finger tips over the two puncture wounds…