Today I am going to post a "horror" piece written by me as well as one by Corey. Both will be anonymous. We ask that you read both and then leave a comment and tell us which piece that you liked better. And why.
After you have done this, we invite you to write a piece of your own (horror story) and email it to us at 2t1ddreamers@gmail.com. DEADLINE IS SATURDAY, AUGUST 6! The only guidelines are that it must be a horror story and it cannot exceed 5 pages, double-spaced, 12point font. Corey and I will pick our favorite and post it here on this blog!
Have fun and we hope to hear back from you!!
Piece #1
Ginny Finley was known as a talented young woman. From a very young age she began drawing very detailed pictures. Her parents were amazed by her artistry throughout her teen years and into her young adulthood. Finally, Ginny received an acceptance letter from the New York Art Institute. Ginny’s parents couldn’t have been more proud.
That summer, to celebrate her graduating high school as well as her college acceptance, her two best friends, Eric and Mindy took her out to the lake for a barbeque. When they got there the lake was old and polluted. Most of the grass around it was dried up and not many people populated it. Even though they couldn’t swim the three chose to stay and have their planned barbeque, play some music, and perhaps watch the stars.
In the midst of laughter and teasing among the best friends, Ginny wished to take a short walk around the lake to recall past memories. Eric and Mindy denied her offer to join her, so she went by herself. While looking up at the setting sky the sun’s rays burst through an opening in the trees and caught Ginny’s attention. She began walking faster toward the small hill to see the sunset when a chunk of gravel on the edge of the lake gave way. Ginny yelped as she unavoidably fell into the water.
Hearing Ginny’s scream, Eric and Mindy rushed over to where the water rippled most. Ginny gasped for air as she came above the surface and reached out for help. The two friends reached out one hand each and pulled Ginny safely to solid ground.
“Are you alright?” Eric asked, worryingly.
“Yah, I’m fine, but I think I cut myself when I fell.” Ginny looked down at her right leg and saw that it had been cut open, possibly by a sharp rock in the lake.
“We’d better clean up your wound and get you home.” Mindy stated.
“No, I swear. I’m fine.” Ginny Refused.
“Well, it’s getting dark anyway and strangely, we all have curfews.” Eric rolled his eyes.
“You think it’s our parent’s last attempt in controlling us before college?” Mindy asked, with an ironic tone.
“I wouldn’t single out that possibility.” Eric agreed with a grin.
When the three were finished talking, they reluctantly packed up their stuff in Eric’s truck and drove back to the city. As the sun set on that summer day they sighed at the realization of this being the beginning of their final summer before college life.
The annual heat waves came and went in the form of three months. Ginny had moved into her dorm and began her classes at the art institute. Before leaving her home town she had gone to see the doctor, because recent headaches and nightmares had been threatening her mental and physical health. The doctor found nothing wrong with her, but just told her to rest more and to take pain killers if a headache was just too unbearable.
In the midst of all her study’s she would still go through massive headaches and the nightmares kept getting worse. That’s when one night she came to her bursting point. She could not handle the night terrors, the waking up in a cold sweat, the headaches, or the screaming any longer. Ginny was always one to face her fears so she concocted an idea to paint the monsters and areas in her dreams.
She started immediately and as if a cooling rush of tundra air rushed over her head…The nightmares stopped and the headaches subsided. Now that she was painting her fears away she was doing exceptionally in her classes. It was close to Halloween when her college roommate had planned to have a party at a loft. She asked Ginny if they could use her paintings, because they were so grotesque and creepy that it fit the scene.
“I don’t know. These portraits are somewhat personal and you are the only that has seen them, Bailey.” Ginny, held one of her paintings in her hand as her eyes glossed over in worry.
“Gin! Everyone will love them! They are perfect for the party and you are a fantastic artist. Never doubt that.” Bailey reassured her friend.
“Well…I don’t- Ginny paused. “Fine, but I’ll be keeping a close eye on them. Nothing better happen to them.” She warned.
“Cross my heart.” Bailey swore.
The two finally finished getting ready for the party and headed over to the loft. The owner directed them where to hang the paintings. When they were done they stepped back and looked at all the food, drinks, and decorations. The paintings hung on every wall of the large loft…staring back, perhaps? A fearsome vampire with blood smeared across his mouth and black eyes, a gruesome zombie with peeling flesh and glowing red pupils, a manic butcher with a bloody clever and a head on a platter. They were all filled with such grisly detail, but the darkest painting hung in the back. It looked out over the whole party; A burnt and red demon with a deformed face, ripped wings, and jagged claws. When one looked at first glance it seemed angry, but another look and they could catch a smile. This painting could possibly make someone go insane if they were to linger for too long.
The party was coming to a close at a very late hour of the night. Once all of the guests had left Ginny and Bailey helped to clean up, taking down the paintings as they went. In leaving the loft Ginny asked Bailey to take her paintings with her back to the dorm and said that she wished to just walk. Ginny wanted to clear her head and it was nice night as well. Bailey understood wholeheartedly and did what her friend requested.
The moon was a bright white and its full circular shape had revealed itself. Some thin clouds trailed across the eerie glow of the moon as Ginny’s footsteps fell on the pavement. The sound of her heels echoed off the nearest wall to her. She closed her eyes briefly and smelled the air. Her presence was the only one walking down this lonesome road. Just then, Ginny felt something. She looked down at her right hand and saw the strange difference in lighting. Behind her every street lamp was going out one by one. She was standing right under one when it died to a dim spark then darkened like its relatives.
It was quiet save for the light breeze running through the trees. Ginny was about to start walking when she heard an ear aching sound. It was similar to nails on a chalkboard, but sounded more like metal. Suddenly, there was screech and a loud thud. “That sounded like tires.” Ginny spoke out loud.
Ginny picked up her pace again and as she came closer to the dorms the source of the screeching was obvious. Bailey had crashed into a brick wall just outside the parking lot of the school. Ginny went around cautiously to the driver’s side door. “Bailey? Are you alright?...Bailey?” When she looked through the window Ginny gasped in terror, covered her mouth, and instantly began to sob. Bailey had deep cuts up and down her body, her face was unrecognizable, and blood covered the inside of the car.
Ginny did the only thing she knew to do and that was to run back to the dorms and call her parents. She didn’t know who could’ve done this or why. All she cared about was living through the night.
Reaching inside her hand bag, she struggled with her keys, mascara smearing down her cheeks from the tears. Ginny approached her dorm room and unlocked it, throwing it shut behind her. She tossed her stuff on her desk and sat in the dark crying her eyes out. Ginny felt she needed to pull it together and get a hold of her parents then the police. When she went for the phone she heard another sound. Almost like someone chuckling.
Ginny rushed to turn on her lamp. Horror had never struck her so deeply for in the faint shadows of her room stood the evil, grisly, and foul looking creatures she had painted. They all stared at her menacingly, grinning at her fear.
“W-why?” Ginny was barely able to speak. None of them spoke, save for the demon.
“Thank you for freeing us.” His voice was guttural and void of goodness. “You’re friend was fun, but now we get to play with our creator.” He sneered. As they drew nearer, Ginny Finley released a scream that echoed and trailed throughout the night and back up to the gazing full moon.
Piece #2
KILLER KISSER ON THE PROWL the headlines read. The newspapers stare at me from the metal and glass case on the side of the sidewalk, daring me to come buy a paper; daring me to learn about yet another unfortunate soul that had been killed in the dead of night. The murderer hadn’t even selected a specific race or gender; he or she now targeted both sexes – this thought offered no comfort. Before, it had only targeted men, which led police officials to believe the killer was a woman. But now…they’re not so sure.
Hands were suddenly at my waist, arms constricting around me. “You have to be the killer kisser,” Kyle said, emerging behind me. He pressed his lips to mine as I turned my head to look at him. “Yep,” he breathed as I pulled away. “Killer kisser.”
Rolling my eyes, I continue my walk to work as he scurries to follow. Although his remarks were made in light humor, I took them with a shudder and a shot of guilt. Real people had lost their lives, and, yes, they may not have all been from the best walks of life, but they still had real families.
“What’s the matter? It was just a joke, Astrid.” Kyle had caught up to me, placing a light hand on the small of my back – trying not to lose me.
“I can see why your ex left you, you know.” I elbow him in a teasing manner, but he still defends himself.
“I left her. That bitch was insane.”
I think back to all of the phone calls, emails, and text messages he had received after their breakup and decided he was right. It was a messy breakup and he still wasn’t completely out of it in her mind. Every now and then she’d show up or send him flowers or a lock of her hair or something to remind him that he had “broken her heart”. She also applied for several jobs at the newspaper office where he works so she could always keep a close eye on him. Fortunately, they never hired her.
“Hello? Astrid?” Kyle wove his hands in front of my face, my brain clicking back to the present. My eyes darted to his as he kissed me on the forehead and chuckled. “Have a great day.” We parted at the publishing house and I watch his black pea coat sway in the New York winter’s wind.
***
Hurriedly, I run into the restaurant to see Kyle sitting a booth alone, mindlessly playing with a straw.
“I am so sorry I’m late! I – ”
“Got stuck at work, they hate interns, they make you finish all of the work that’s not done at the end of the work day. I know,” Kyle cut me off. “Just sit down, I’m starving!”
We ate dinner together, absentmindedly “fighting” over who got the last meatball and asking each other questions we genuinely didn’t care about the answers to. It was pretty obvious that neither of us had our minds on each other.
“They found another one today. Male,” Kyle whispered heavily as we walked out of the restaurant. “Lipstick was smeared all over his face…or what was left of it, just like the others. They had to use dental records to identify him to the family.” He was silent for a long moment, as if trying to convince himself that he could say something. “I-I was sent to the scene to report…Astrid…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that poor guy. You couldn’t even really tell that he was a guy by his face anymore. You have no idea how hard it was for me to eat that spaghetti tonight.”
I watched him as he bit his thumb, trying to keep me from seeing the emotion on his face. His eyes gave him away, though. They were glossed over, like rain on ice. “Promise me – Promise me, Astrid, that if anything like that were to happen…I want to be cremated and have my ashes spread by the fountain where we met. Promise me?”
My eyes met his for a while; his fear mixed with my worry. “I promise, but nothing’s going to happen to you.” I wrap my arms around him as we make a turn.
We exit out of the park’s gardens and start walking toward the city – a cacophony of horns and tires screeching up ahead with lights blurring the horizon. It’s oddly comforting, the hustle and bustle. Routine, I guess. I lay my head on Kyle’s shoulder as we continued walking slowly with no destination in mind.
“Today would have been my and Lila’s anniversary. I’ve kind of been on edge all day wondering what she would do,” he confesses, almost ashamed. I’m not sure how to reply, so I don’t. I just turn to look up at him and kiss him. I can feel him smile under my lips as he pulls away, his hands in my hair. We duck into a back alley as he continues kissing me, pressing my back against the cool bricks. I can feel the chill radiating off of them even through my winter coat. Through the blood pumping feverishly in my ears, I can barely make out one other sound.
Footsteps.
We are not alone.
“Kissing another girl on OUR anniversary?” A shrill voice demands.
Kyle releases me and turns around quickly, standing in front of me protectively. I look around for Lila, but don’t see her. I realize then that Kyle is looking up. Lila jumps down from the rooftop, landing firmly on her feet without even so much as a wince. I stare in astonishment as her blonde curls blow in the wind of the night. Although it is frigid outside, she wears only tight jeans, boots, an overly-tight shirt, and a light leather jacket.
“Was that today?” He asks, nonchalantly. But it’s forced through tight lips. I wonder why he’s so defensive, guarding me so closely. She’s just a girl. I girl that I’m pretty sure I could take down if given the opportunity. She’s taller than me, but she looks hollow, in a way, dainty.
Lila lets out a low growl, lunging toward us. Lunging; like a cat lunges for a mouse. Predator and prey. I think back to the pictures of the girls. Short, brunette, girls who lost their lives. And the men, the buzz cut hair and grey eyes. The girls resemble me – and the men Kyle.
“I knew it was you!” Kyle yells as he sidesteps, sending Lila into the wall. “I recognized your lipstick!”
Lila makes a second attempt at Kyle, who knocks me out of the way seeing that his escape is impossible. I stare blindly as Lila wraps her legs around Kyle’s waist, her fingers clenching onto the back of his head, pulling his lips to hers. She kisses him messily, her lipstick smearing all over his face. A scream builds up in me as Lila breaks the kiss, revealing her fangs. The “killer kisser” is a vampire? Kyle dated a vampire? A million questions race through my mind, but none of them will be asked because Lila starts ripping chunks of flesh from his face, blood squirting from his open face like a fire hydrant knocked open on a hot summer day. Her movements look the same as when she was kissing him, but leave behind blood instead of lipstick. Kyle lets out a scream of agony, and I find myself unable to move. You have to do something! I tell myself, You love him, so save him! I love him. I know I love him, so why can’t I move? Some of his blood splatters against me and I realize that he’s turning to say something to me. I can barely meet his gray eyes, glad I can’t see much of what’s left of his face, as he begins to speak.
“I love you, Astrid,” He manages to say clearly. My heart skips a beat. Do something. I hear myself muster the words back, knowing it’s not enough. It’s not enough to save him.
Lila is infuriated by his sentiment to me and continues to hack away at his face. I see a pleading message in his eyes – Hide. I manage to tuck myself away behind some boxes as I hear my boyfriend fall to the ground with a loud thump, then a shriek and leather wings flapping away. The stench of rustic blood coats the air so thickly that I feel it pushing down on me, engulfing me until I can almost feel his blood mixing with my own.
***
Water slaps itself as it falls from the fountain, light splashes adding to the endless pool of pennies, sunken to the bottom as if beneath a ceaseless waterfall of tears. I remember the way I smiled when I was here with Kyle, how we promised each other we’d walk barefoot in this thing. And now, I sit at the very spot I met him, holding a jar of ashes. Kissing the urn once, I whisper an “I love you” and spread most of him into the water, hoping he’s walking in it barefoot. I watch as the ashes mix in with the copper coins.
Sometimes no amount of pennies can make a wish come true, I think to myself as I sink my feet in the fountain, stirring up his ashes.
