All Hallows Eve

A/N: Happy Hallowe'en everyone! Hope you've all been keeping well lately (and writing    -glares-). The following mish-mash of words is what my entry for the Hallowe'en Short Story Contest would have looked like. My internet decided to cut out before I could send Skyril the right entry, so I was sadly unable to enter :( I must say, I loved all of the entries! There were amazing, and I wouldn't have fancied my chances against you wonderful people! But, as I've pointed out - It's Hallowe'en. So what better time to finally unveil my would-be entry? I've put it off long enough, and don't like the idea of it sitting on my computer, never to be read... It feels like a waste.
P.S. The Sluaghs were my little attempt at having some culture... In old Scottish and Irish folklore, the Sluaghs were malevolent spirits rejected from the Otherworld, Heaven and Hell. Don't want to spoil anything from the story, so take a look at this page once you've finished reading :) ==> And hey! I managed to make it exactly 1313 words long - because I like the extra challenge (If something in my story is bad - blame it on my determination to make it fit to the word count -_- ...          -shameless cowering from rejection-) :D 
Hope you enjoy!   ~Bones


All Hallows Eve. The night where demons and harsh spirits have their chance to roam the realm of the living. Rejected from the Otherworld, they are free to haunt the lands, avenge their deaths and steal the souls of the innocent. Until the next day. The next day, they would be caught. Their crimes punished, but not undone. They would be sent where they belonged, in a place of suffering and turmoil.

Until next year...

What a load of crap.
Delilah didn’t believe any of those stories any more, she wasn’t a child. Sure, they would give her a good scare when she was younger, but why wouldn’t they? Children are gullible. Impressionable. But she was grown up now, and wasn’t about to be fooled into believing silly ghost stories anymore.

Unlike her mother, stupid old bat. The woman was her hero during her scarier Hallowe’en days, always protecting her. She said that as long as you disguised yourself in a costume, the evil ‘Sluaghs’ couldn’t see you and steal your spirit away.

Of course, Delilah had grown out of dressing up years ago, as many teenagers do. But her mother never did. And now, she was just a crazy middle-aged lady who still bought a different costume for her daughter and herself every year. “If we wear the same as last year, the Sluaghs might suspect something!” her mother would giggle. Delilah always refused to wear a costume, which would result in an argument between them. She would always storm up to her room and ignore her mother until the next day. Traditions.

Delilah looked down at the younger kids from her bedroom window, in their fancy costumes and their buckets of sweets, with disdain. The little fools loved how her mother would dress up, as if it was for their amusement. She would tell them the same stories she told her. Their own parents thought it was nice at first, but then some grew wary of her as time went by - The weird woman who took Hallowe’en seriously.

Sighing, Delilah shut the curtains and went back to watching some scary movie that was on TV. She wasn’t paying much attention to it. Creepy faces, blood, helpless victims, screaming. Lots of screaming. She watched it for a while then felt herself getting tired and switched off the bad movie before falling asleep, more than happy for this day to end.

She woke an hour later to a knocking on her door. It was probably her mother, but she didn’t feel like talking to her yet. She ignored it.

A couple of minutes passed. Just as she thought she was gone, there came the knocking at the door, louder this time. She ignored it.

Ten minutes passed. Delilah was almost asleep again, when there came a violent bang on her door. She jumped at the sound and bolted upright. She heard giggling.

 Angered at being startled, she stomped to the door and swung it open with considerable force, just glimpsing a figure in the gloom before her door hit the TV. Cursing, she turned to inspect the damage – a sizeable crack on the screen.

She turned to her mother, “See what you-!”

No one was there. The hallway was empty. Delilah stared, confused, at the spot where she could have sworn her mother was standing...

She must have run back to her room, sensing there would be another fight. Or maybe she was just playing some kind of trick on her, the sick lunatic. Whatever. She didn’t want to deal with her anyway. Delilah slammed the door shut, and sleepily got back into bed.

She woke an hour later to a tapping on her window. Grumbling, she rolled over in bed and covered her ears. She wasn’t falling for that again.

A couple of minutes passed. The noise was gone, but she didn’t expect it to give up...

Ten minutes passed. A very loud bang, and this time Delilah got up and tore open the curtains.

She yelled as she uncovered the culprit, “Will you -!”

No one was there. She was sure she had caught them that time. The banging hadn’t stopped as she approached the window. It paused as she yelled... then started again. So did the giggling.

It was pitch black outside. The moon was the only source of light, playing with the dancing shadows on the street. Weird... She opened the window, looking further down, to see if someone was hiding down below.

Couldn't see a thing.

A chill ran along her back, making her shiver. Must’ve been the wind.

Frowning at the ground Delilah decided to give up. She straightened up and screamed at the face outside her window. His body was hard to see, as if he were covered in something like oil and concealed by the shadows. His face, smeared with blood and hideous with scars, was twisted into a terrible smile. That slimy substance dripped from his chin.

Delilah screamed again as she threw the curtains across the window. She backed up, slipped on something and hit the ground hard. She was vaguely aware of her heads’ impact on the ground...

 In a daze she sat up, panting heavily. Her room was dark again with the curtains closed and she couldn’t see what she had slipped on.

She looked up at the curtains. The tapping had stopped. Did that mean that the man was away too?

She leaned forward and groped the ground to find what she had caused her to fall. Her fingers couldn’t grab a hold of anything... She ran her hands along the carpet, combing the floor for the source. Her fingers ran across something slimy. Something thick. Unpleasant to touch. Something like oil.

She got up quickly, ignoring the pain in her head and opened the curtains again.

No one was there. The man wasn’t outside the window.

Because Delilah didn’t see a man outside her window.

She saw his reflection.


From behind her came a noise like the sharp sound of nails scraping across glass. She spun round.
Everything in her room was slathered with oil. Pools of the stuff spread out across the carpet, dripped from the ceiling.

Gingerly, she edged in front of the mirror on the other side of the room: the only possible source of the sound. She was breathing hard. She couldn’t fight the panic rising within her much longer.

With her back pressed against the wall, Delilah faced the mirror. It was the only thing in the room free from black slime. But now it bore a set of scars just to the right of where Delilah’s head could be seen. The rugged lines were harshly made, but very precise, made to fit the exact contours of a face.

Not moving from her spot Delilah quickly looked around the room, examining all the dark corners, looking for the man, but he was not to be found. She slumped down to the ground, burying her face in her knees, letting the tears and the panic break the floodgates. She sobbed and wished her mother would come and save her, her childhood hero, just like she used to, she wished she hadn’t-


She froze. She didn’t want to look up.


She wanted to stay in the false comfort of her own arms, and pretend there wasn’t a man there.


She didn't move for what felt like an eternity.

She wondered if the man had left... when a cold, wet hand grabbed her right shoulder.

Delilah shrieked and straightened up. She caught a glimpse of the mirror before another hand grabbed her mouth. A pair of eyes was set perfectly amongst the scars, accompanied by a twisted grin. She was starting to drown... drowning in oil... she couldn't escape. The last thing she remembered was the message on the mirror...


Free knowledge, lovingly compiled for your reading pleasure

Good evening brothers and sisters, friends and neighbors, vibrations in the mind of the one true God, that is Love. I've come across some interesting questions on Quora I'd like to share with you today. I think many of you will find it as useful and insightful as I have. Enjoy!

A Thought For The Day:

"Death destroys the body, as the scaffolding is destroyed after the building is up and finished. And he whose building is up rejoices at the destruction of the scaffolding and of the body." -Leo Tolstoy, novelist and philosopher (1828-1910)  

The Mark of the Mask

The girl slowly pushed her broom down the dim hallways of St. Mary Hannah Academy. Overhead the weak light flickered and threatened to go out. Nervously Alice Swift looked up, watching the bulb struggle to give light. The last thing she needed was to be stuck in the dark inside the old gothic building that hosted school for a multitude of spoiled wealthy teenagers. It was spooky enough in the light of day. Outside the cool autumn wind howled, pressing against the window near her.
“Are you done yet, Alice?” The tired looking janitor asked as he peeked around the corner from another hallway behind her.
“Not yet, dad. I just need to finish this section.” Alice answered him, pushing back a strand of dark stringy hair that had gotten loose from her straggly ponytail. “I think this light is about to go out. It keeps on flickering.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Larry Swift responded wearily as he turned back to his own tasks. “It does that. Hurry now so we can be home in time for dinner.”
Biting back a sigh, Alice went back to what she was doing. Back and forth she swept the black and white tiled floor of the hallway, moving slowly past the rich wood of the old fashioned doors that led into the classrooms.
It was not long ago that she had stated attending the Academy. If it were not for the fact her father worked here, she would not have been allowed in at all.
Up ahead was the gym. Warm light spilled about around the edges of the door reminding her that she was not alone. Briefly she wished she was. If she was lucky, no one would discover her as she finished her work. Yet once again, it seemed as if luck had deserted her.
The doors to the gym burst open suddenly and out walked the Halloween masquerade planning committee. In the lead was the tall redheaded beauty, the darling of the academy. Wealthy, talented and charming she succeeded at whatever she did. Unlike Alice. Arabella Bordeaux was the embodiment of perfection.
With a voice like an angel she led the conversation. Others responded to her chatter but it was as if their voices were lost in the wind whenever she spoke. It was no wonder Arabella was first in the girls’ choir, Alice thought to herself as she huddled against the wall, listening to that lovely voice.
In silence she struggled to be as unnoticed as much as was possible, keeping her head lowered just in case. Through her strands of unkempt hair she views with interest the others who walked alongside the beauty queen. There was the second favorite, bookish Nina Sinclair with long blond hair and china doll looks, who was the president of the student council and head of the debate club. Football captain, Brian Wallace flanked Arabella’s right side. Tall and well-built he projected charisma coupled with slight cockiness. Veronica Landis, Jeremy Clem, and Travis White were all stars in orchestra and band with Veronica being the drum majorette.
They were unofficially called the Golden Clique. They were the elite of the elite. The difference between her and the Golden Clique was galaxy wide. If Alice could choose a time to be anywhere other than where she was, it was now. The sudden silence told her that she had been noticed.
In front of her now, Arabella paused and sniffed delicately in the air then wrinkled her perfect nose as if spelling something unpleasant.
“What is that dreadful smell? It smells like……cleaning disinfectant!” Looking puzzled and slightly troubled she looked around dramatically then feigned surprise when her lovely green eyes fell upon mousy Alice. “Oh! It’s you!”
Petite Nina said nothing. Instead she watched it all with her intelligent cruel eyes and a slight cunning smile on her lips. Brian said nothing as the others sniggered behind their hands. He just looked bored and gazed everywhere but at Alice.
“Look who is already ready for Halloween!” Veronica jeered then whispered, “Monster!”
“Oh, Veronica dear,” Arabella practically purred. “Alex is not wearing any mask. Alex’s face is just scared from burns.”
“My name is Alice.” She should have kept her mouth shut.
“Alex, Alice. It makes no difference.” Arabella shrugged.
“You are a girl?” Travis exclaimed as if surprised and peered at her closely as if inspecting something from a petri dish.
“It is hard to tell underneath….her work uniform.” Arabella shrugged and pouted prettily. “Anyone could make that mistake.”
“It looks like you are already for our masquerade dance tomorrow night.” Jeremy piped up suddenly, his face indifferent yet brutal.
Tears threatened to fall from Alice’s eyes as she reached up to cover the half of her face that was filled with old burns. The fire that had claimed the lives of her mother and younger sister had left its mark on her face forever. Arabella clucked sympathetically.
No one noticed the other boy who appeared behind them. Adam Norrington started towards them walking confidently with a look of thoughtfulness as if he pondered something deep.
“You poor dear. It must be awful to be so ugly.” Arabella handed something the Alice, unaware of the other person nearby.
Alice dumbly looked down at what was handed to her. It was an ordinary black mask.
“Perhaps you can do us all a favor and wear this mask whenever you are out in public.” Arabella continued with spiteful sweetness.
“Yeah, that way you won’t scare all the children!” Jeremy laughed then hollered as Adam walked by, shouldering him. “Hey! Watch where you are going!”
“Excuse me. I didn’t see you there.” Adam lied as he adjusted his glasses. His brown eyes stared at everyone as if he could see past their facades.
Torn between hope and extreme shame, Alice kept her ruined face hidden from the boy she had secretly admired. She could not help but sneak a glace into his brown eyes. They were the kindest eyes she had ever seen.
Startled Arabella tried to recover from this unexpected interruption.
“Why, hello Adam.” She simpered prettily. “I didn’t expect you to be here this time of night.”
Calmly Adam looked at all of them, not fooled at all. “Would that have changed things if you knew?”
No one needed to be told what he was talking about. But still they tried to cover it up.
“What are you talking about?” Arabella tried to look sweet, innocent, and confused.
“Who do you think you are?” Brian spoke up then, not wanting to be showed up by a guy who was shorter than him, even if it there was not that much difference.
“I think perhaps you should be quiet now, Brian.” Nina smiled like a Cheshire cat. “It’s not good to get the Headmaster’s son all upset is it?”
“You don’t have to worry about anything, Nina.” Adam replied smoothly. “ I can take care of myself. However, you all seem to have a problem with a fellow classmate of mine. I just want to see if I can help.”
“All we were trying to do was encourage Allen to come to the party tomorrow.” Arabella pouted, turning on her charm to full blast.
Adam frowned and turned to look at Alice then, something in his eye…perhaps pity.
Unable to keep from crying anymore, Alice fled from them all the way to the stairs; their laughter followed her. If she had looked back she would have seen Adam’s concerned look and attempt to follow her. Nina stopped him. “Leave her alone. She will be ok. She just needs a little time by herself.”
Suspiciously Adam looked at the girl then back to where Alice had fled. He had seen for himself how fragile the other girl was and he had to be honest with himself, he had something to do with it though he didn’t know what. Perhaps it was best to do as Nina suggested.
“I am leaving now. I advise you to do the same.” He told them curtly, the tone in his voice implied trouble if any of them were to argue.
Without waiting to see if they followed, Adam left, hoping and trusting Alice’s father to take care of his daughter.
Stumbling up the flight Alice sought the roof for escape. Harsh sobs racked her thin frame as she collapsed just at the top of the stairs. Her body lay sprawled along the corridor. Not wanting anyone to find her she covered her mouth desperately to prevent any sobs from coming through.
Down below on the first floor she could hear Arabella lie to her father and tell him that Alice had already gone home. Part of her wished for her father to see through the lie and to stand up for her to Arabella and her minions. But another part wanted to be left alone by them all. So when Larry Swift chose to believe Arabella and leave, Alice did not know whether to cry or laugh. She did both.
Finally she was alone. As the doors were shut behind the last person, Alice could hear the echo of the locks all the way up to the third floor landing.
Getting to her feet she stumbled to the wall and sagged down, shoulders drooping then rested her weary heat in her arms.
All was still. Alice didn’t know how long she sat there, but eventually she became aware of the extreme quite. Slowly she raised her head and looked around. Outside the wind had died down. The dark clouds that had covered the moon had long since disappeared. Now its soft light radiated quietly through the window above her head, bathing that portion of the hallway in its gentle glow.
Another light shown down the hallway, highlighting a door that stood ajar. Frowning, Alice got to her feet and stared. She didn’t remember that door being there before. Curiosity got the better of her and she moved forward towards the strange door. As she got closer she could see it was not an ordinary door. It was set apart from any other door from the school. It was made from an unidentified material that shimmered, almost like it had precious jewels hammered into it. Tentatively she ran her hand down the cool and smooth surface then peered around the door. To her surprise she saw stairs curving upwards.
Something made her want to go further into the doorway and see what lay beyond. Yet she felt a bit of uncertainty as she climbed the steps. But the last bit of reservation left her as she stood in the room at the top of the stairs. In awe she looked at the glass domed ceiling that let the starry filled sky into the room.
All around the dark wood floor lay forgotten treasures from ages past. In one corner a whole carousal sat, still beautiful in its nostalgia. Gilded mirrors, lamps from far way places, Persian rugs, and treasure chests filled up the space.
In wonder she walked forward trailing her hand leisurely along the many priceless treasures that lay there. Somehow she felt as if this all was for her. In the far corner sat a chest all on its own. Something about it made her temporarily forget about the other treasures.
Kneeling down before it she opened the lid to see what was within. Elaborate masks of every color and style lay inside. Remembering the remarks earlier she fought back feelings of both awe and resentment. Yet as if on its own, her hand reached for one mask. Diamonds and pearls lined the sliver fa├žade, glittering enticingly in the moonlight. It was so lovely and fine. Never had she seen such exquisite detail. In reckless abandonment she put it on and in an instant, felt all the fear and pain from earlier melt away. For once in her life, she actually felt beautiful. A happy feeling bubbled within her as she got to her feet and ran to one of the mirrors.
In astonishment she stared at her reflection, not recognizing the girl who looked back. Instead of lanky black hair, it fell in smooth curls down her back. Twirling around in delight she almost last aloud. Then something sparkled and caught her eye in the mirror. Behind her she saw the matching dress to the mask on an old mannequin. Underneath sat the glass slippers.
In no time at all she had the dress on. Soft gossamer fabric dropped her slender body like a dream, each jewel from the gown glittering I the light of the moon.
“I look like a queen!” She whispered in amazement.
Maybe this all was a dream. Thoughtfully she took off the mask. None of this was hers to take. Who was she to steal what was not hers?
Look in the mirror, a faint mysterious voice whispered.
Startled, Alice did as the enigmatic voice told her and almost screamed. All her burns were gone.
All that you see here is for you. This room is for you. It can be accessed anywhere, no matter where you are.
“Who are you?” She called out as she searched for whoever was there with her.
A friend, was all it replied.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she recalled a tale told long ago. When receiving a gift from the faerie, one should not be rude and expose them. But rather, the recipient of the gift should gratefully receive the gift.
“Thank you.” She curtsied respectfully in the direction she thought the voice came from.
When silence answered her, she knew she was alone again. An old grandfather clock chimed the time, alerting her at last that time had slipped from her reality. Looking down at her shabby wristwatch she saw that somehow the hours had drifted by while she was up in the magic room. It was now the evening of the masquerade. What seemed like a short time in the room had been longer on the outside.
Turning back around she took off the old watch, replacing it with some simple but elegant jewelry she had found from an old alabaster box. Calm hands put the mask on again and after one more look in the mirror for reassurance, she headed down the stairs. Briefly she wondered if anyone had missed her then dismissed the thought. It didn’t matter anymore. Tonight would be a brand new start for her.
Gracefully she stepped through the ornate doors and walked down the empty hall way of the third floor. It was still somewhat dark up there, but some light from the activities below faintly lite up the area around her. Music from the party drifted up to her ears. Pleased, she smiled. It was good the party had started. Before heading down the stairs she looked back and saw the beautiful ornate door has vanished. Hidden in her hand was a key that glittered, translucent, disappearing even as she gazed at it. Somehow she knew it was part of her now. All she had to do was think on it and it would appear.
From the third floor she descended into a world transformed. No longer was it merely the stately halls of St. Mary Hannah Academy, but now it resembled the gilded palaces of renaissance Italy.
Shaking her head in wonder she could not help but smile. For all their meanness, the Golden Clique knew how to decorate. She supposed it helped to be wealthy.
At the threshold of the doors to the party she hesitated. Inside it was even more festive and grand, reminding her that she did not really belong. Doubt caused her dark head to fall but then she saw the grandeur of her sparkly gown and raised her head again.
“I do have a right to be here.” She whispered to herself.
Ignoring the admiring stares of her fellow classmates, her eyes searched for one person only. Not everyone wore masks so he was easy to find. He stood against the far wall talking with several of his friends. In her eyes, Adam Norrington shined above his friends. Dressed in a sleek tux she thought he looked splendid.
Feeling bold, she slowly made her way to him. Once there she forgot what she wanted to say. All she could do was smile as the words got stuck in her throat.
Adam’s friends backed away slightly to give her some room, easily accepting her even though they did not recognize her. It was a new feeling, one she liked; being accepted.
Cordially she made herself smile at them all but her real focus was still Adam.
“Would you like to dance?” She forced herself to ask and smile shyly.
“It would be my pleasure.” He smiled and offered her his arm.
Feeling like a princess, Alice was led out onto the dance floor. Then the music swelled up and they began to dance. She would never be able to remember quite right the name of that first song. All she knew was that it was beautiful and it swept her up into the heavens.
A dozens thoughts raced through her head as she tried to quiet her heart. The depth of her feelings for Adam almost scared her. But from the first she had known he was special. Now it was time to show him that perhaps she was worth it too.
“I don’t know who you are, but you dance very well.” Adam smiled at her and she almost melted looking up into those brilliant beautiful brown eyes of his. “I am not sure we have met before.”
Feeling brave and bold again she smiled, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “I am Alice Swift.”
If he was surprised, he did not show it. Instead he smiled a genuine warm smile. “I am so glad you came. You look beautiful.”
Quietly she thanked him, feeling suddenly shy again. But he danced with her unaware, whirling her even more grandly around the room. As she turned with each step, her dress swirled prettily around her. Yet she had to ask.
“You said you were glad I came. Why?”
“I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He answered honestly and thoughtfully. “I remember when you first came to our school. I saw you in the library. The way you looked at the books, the way you held them and touched them, I knew you were special from the start.”
Alice almost stopped cold with his words. They tore something at her heart that made her feel both pain and happiness.
“You thought I was special?” She whispered in disbelief. “But I was ugly.”
“You were?” Adam seemed genuinely surprised. “I never thought that. I am only sorry you did.”
His gentle hug broke the last wall remaining around her heart. “I always thought you were beautiful.”
Her heart skipped a beat but she made herself speak anyways.
“It’s funny, but I was just thinking that about you too.”She smiled back.
“Oh, were you now?” His brown eyes twinkled down into hers. “Then I am the luckiest guy here!”
If there were such things as happy endings, this would be one of them. But she knew in her heart that this was not a happy ending. It was a happy beginning and for the first time in her life, she embraced it.

A Month (or so) In the Life of Gepard

So, um, hi. I know, I know, I've been seriously M.I.A. (missing in action) lately. Sorry 'bout that. School and whatnot has been getting in the way a lot. Anyway, um, I'm probably back. I designed a blog for Kal (SHAMELESS PLUG) in case anyone is interested in, like, hiring me or whatever. Hiring meaning no fee and I'll do it if I have time. Haha.

Um, so, update on my life. Skip this post if you don't want to hear my ramblings.

So . . . I went back to school this year, entering a new cycle of school years. Two years, actually. In ROI there's Junior Cycle (first three years of secondary school/high school) and then Senior Cycle (last two-three years of secondary/high school). Anyway, I have new subjects now. They are: Art, French, Chemistry (which is really hard), Biology (not as hard but still hard), Irish, English, and Maths. I had about 12 subjects in Junior Cycle, so it's a big difference. Oh, and I also have P.E. (Gym), and this thing called LC.V.P. (don't ask). So, I actually lost my train of thought and I don't know where I was going with this paragraph about subjects . . .

Anyway, I'm in the school play. I'm one of the main parts so yay! I have to learn to dance, though, because my character starts randomly waltzing with this character that talks a mile an hour. But yeah, the play itself is pretty awesome and it'll have props and music and such. It's our school's first play.

Another thing that happened issssss . . . I got outed at school. Like, literally every single person at my school knows I'm gay and the teachers made me go to counseling because it's apparently the first time it's happened (WTF, right?) and now I have to go to counseling every week. I MEAN, WHAT?!

But yeah, tests this week. Blegh.

OH, ACTUALLY, YOU KNOW WHAT? Instead of me doing people's blogs for free, I'm gonna have a contest. So look out for that!

Which reminds me, I'm entering a writing competition! :D Wish me luck! So... I guess that's all right now. During this post I realized I am still very forgetful and that I say 'So' and 'Anyway' too much.

Anyway, bye.


Competition Winner Announcement

Greetings, my fine, lollipop wielding comrades! ~as a zombie moans, walking past, handing everyone lollipops as they listen~

Unfortunately I'm going to have to keep this relatively quick, but don't worry, I'm most certainly going to say something of each and announce the winner!

Haha! And what a perfect first entry to skip!
Ok, ok, I won't skip it, but I'll be exceedingly brief. :P Entry number 1 was mine. I switched my style from horror and terrible endings from the zombie competition, to innocent and a little humorous with this entry. Thank you so much, everyone who complimented it. :3

Competition entry number 2!
Author: Octaboona Ambrosius
Wow! I was so surprised when I first saw this, and then read it. The conciseness is blunt and haunting by the story it portrays. So few words make it original, clever, unique. At first, I thought it might have almost been a poem, weaving a web in disguise as a story. Utterly fitting to the author who wrote it! Thank you, Octa, for your brilliant story!

Competition entry number 3!
Author: Nights Raven
Oooo, chilling! I thought at first that Steve, Jack, Jordan, and Danielle would survive their horrifying experiences and come out scarred, but alive. That was not to be, however as the ghosts were restless. The perfect Halloween story! It began innocently, and ended terrifyingly. I loved it! Thanks, Raven, for submitting your awesome story!

Competition entry number 4!
Author: Taia DeMars
I love Alfred James. The man the story line follows as he reluctantly passes out a single aniseed to the trick-or-treaters. Haha! I'm certain that must be the strangest "candy" they get for Halloween. In the end, as Tanith appears, unexpectedly, frighteningly. Who knows what happens to poor Alfred James. Taia! I insist you tell us! ~grins~ Thank you for submitting this epica piece of Halloween stories.

Competition entry number 5!
Author: Kallista Pendragon
Woah! Talk about creepy. I'm certain I shivered whilst reading this at least five times. Poor Helena sent in as the drama clubs ritual demands. Haunted houses, ghosts, woeful brides, and chilling endings. This story must have everything in it balanced so efficiently! The ending was terrifying, and I loved the whole story! Thanks so much, Kal for adding this to our Halloween nightmares!

Now, without further ado! [since the computer's going to log me off in four minutes]
The winner of the Short Story Halloween Competition, being voted just one more than two others.... is entry number five by Kallista Pendragon!
Congratulations, Kal! It was brilliant, and I would have voted for it too, if I could have :]
~crowns Kal the Queen of Halloween~

Thanks, everybody for adding something new to Halloween for everybody! I loved reading every one. :3
I'm hoping y'all enjoyed it too, and I'll see more entries by you the next time we have a competition 8]

New Pyred Blog

So, um, yeah, Pyro and I opened a blog for those tiny little shifting-points-of-view stories we so like to write.

Go check it out, stuff might be happening there somewhen :D

My- not so triumphant- return to writing!

Hi guys.

So, I've rewritten the first chapter of The Origin. I know it's shit, but I would appreciate if you read and helped me to improve it, AS I can't. :L

So, The Origin, chapter 1 is HERE.

Thanks guys! *hugs*

P.S. Sky, I'm really sorry about the Halloween Comp. I really wanted to do it :( I didn't have time, sorry.

But IS it okay if I write one and put it up, ANYWAY?

~Flame :)

Look at this tid-bit of Inspiration- "Dare to Suck".

Competition Two Voting Zone

Hello everybody!

The second competition has ended for real!

I'm sorry some of you couldn't get your entries in on time :/. Next time, definitely, ok? :]

Anyway, on to the business! Below you will find the entries for this, our second competition. I've read each of them, and been impressed in one way or another every time! I hope you read and enjoy them as I did and get in the mood for Halloween!

Now, the rules, which are simple.

Everybody has one vote.
Vote here.
"Sign" your name at the bottom of your vote.
You have up to the 15th to vote.

And that's everything!

Comprehend, ponder, conceive, and conclude, then deliberate once more and submit to the task at hand!
Basically, choose your favorite and Vote!
Have fun!

Halloween Short Story Competition Entry #5

 A/N Don't vote here! Vote on the voting post above!

Walking down the dark street of Caspia Lane was not what Helena Buckthorn had in mind when she thought of fun. But for some reason there she was heading down the street of abandoned homes. On the very end of the cul-de-sac was a huge mansion.

Caspia Lane was the place of legends in the small Iowa town. It was said that the homes on this street were built on an old Indian grave site. The Osgood Mansion was the first to be there in the area, built in 1854. Later the robber baron, William Osgood sold off the surrounding land and more fine homes were built.

In her hand she kept her phone to her ear and listened as she received instructions.

“Before you even enter the gates of Osgood Mansion, don’t forget to put on your mask.” Sarah Walker told her in a foreboding voice. “It important that no one…or nothing can identify you.”
It seemed an odd thing to say but Helena sighed, remembering it was only part of the initiation. No doubt her comrades had all sorts of horrible things planned for her.  Everyone who joined the Drama club had to go through an initiation.

“Did I tell you that everyone in the Osgood family went mad then slaughtered everyone on their street?” Shawn Morrison taunted her through the phone. “No one knows what happened to the family after that! They just disappeared!”

“It was the Indian curse that killed everyone!” Chris Thornton scoffed as he took Sarah’s phone from Shawn.  “Besides,   there were only three left in the Osgood family; Mr. Osgood, his wife and their unmarried son, Fredrick.”

Helena put her mask on and approached the gate of the mansion cautiously, not paying attention to the bickering on the other side of her phone.

Silently she opened the gate, listening to its creek as it protested. Somewhere behind her, she knew the others watched. When they had seen her go through the gate they had all gone silent.

There was nothing to be scared about, she told herself silently.  It was only a sad old oversized house. There was nothing she could not handle.

Old dead leaves crunched under her boots as she walked the path leading the front porch. Even in the pale light of the moon she could see the sagging floorboards and the paint that peeled away over the entire surface of the mansion.  Several windows were still boarded up, but the majority was broken. Remnants of the glass lay scattered around. Reaching out slowly she went to open the door then found to her dismay it had already been opened.

“Hello?” She called out warily as she peered around the doorway.

No one answered her. But of course no one would, she scoffed to herself. There was no one there, just her!

“OK. I’m in.” She told her comrades then shut the phone off. She didn’t want to be distracted as she explored.

All around the room she could make out the different shapes from the furniture covered by simple white sheets. Dust coated everything even the floor and as she made her way across the foyer to the stairs, she looked back to see her footprints. It seemed she had been the only one there in a very long time.

Carefully she made her way from room to room observing the home that time forgot. Gradually she felt all traces of trepidation fading away. There was nothing to be afraid of.

Then she pushed open two magnificent doors into what must have been the ballroom. Even in the dust and shadows she could see how extravagant it used to be. The once sparkling crystal chandelier now hung dully from the faded painted ceiling, thick with cobwebs on it. Below the tile floor was dirty and chipped.

Closing her eyes she imagined what it must have looked like when it was in its glory days. Smiling faintly she could almost hear the music play as the grandly dressed couples danced to a waltz.

When she opened her eyes she gasped as light filled her vision. Before her people dressed in long fancy gowns and uniforms danced by her while the musicians played elegant music. Some even acknowledges her with a smile and nodded as they past.

Shocked she looked down and saw that she, herself was dressed in a white beautiful gown.

“Welcome, my Helena, my beautiful bride.” A man stood in front of her then with a gentle smile on his face and his hands held out. But his eyes were cruel.

Frightened now Helena backed from the room in hast. Who was that man? But even as she asked the silent question, in her heart she knew the answer. It was Fredrick Osgood.

Back in the car sat the small group of people who had been the ones to set up the initiation for Helena Buckthorn. Bored expressions were written on all their faces as they waited alongside another residential street.

“How long has it been?” Chris wondered. “She has been in there far too long.”

Clicking sounds were all that answered him as Shawn typed on the laptop. So intent on his work he did not know everyone was staring at him till Sarah nudged him.

“What are you doing?” She asked crossly. “How are you even on the laptop?”

“What? Oh!” Chris looked up, startled from his computer then shrugged. “I just hacked into someone’s wifi. Who knew cheeswhiz would be a password?”

“What are you looking at?” Shawn asked.

“The history and myths of the Osgood place.”  Chris replied distractedly.

“Shouldn’t you have done that BEFORE Helena went in there?” Sarah responded irritated and rolled her eyes. “Why could we not just have held the initiation at the old Mill where we used to do it?

“I wanted to shake things up.” Shawn told her defensively. “It seemed like a good idea then.”

“I was just looking this up to see what really happened all those years ago at the Osgood Mansion.” Chris kept his eyes focused on the screen. “It’s not good.”

Alarmed Sara sat up and stared at him wide eyed. “So spill it! What happened?”

“Over the last century many strange disappearances have happened.” Chris began. “And it had to do with the Osgood mansion, all victims were female. Only one came back but since then they say she went mad and was institutionalized.”

“And we are only hearing about this now?” Sarah raised her eyebrows.

“Well, fact and fiction can collide easily and things get turned around.” Chris shrugged again. “That is why I wanted to do a search. Not everyone does one apparently.”

Both Sara and Chris turned to look pointedly at Shawn. He looked out the window and pretended not to notice.

“Well, I have read more and they say the woman spoke about the ghost of Osgood and his desire to get revenge on the bride who left him at the altar.” Chris informed them.  “Every ten years a local girl goes missing. Somehow she is drawn to the mansion then later she disappears. It’s like she is supposed to take the place of Osgood’s bride. That is where the wearing of the masks tradition kicks in. It’s supposed to confuse his ghost.”

“Creepy.” Shawn shuddered.

“Yeah, and we sent Helena in there!” She lightly slapped him on the shoulder.

“Oh come on! You don’t actually believe that crap do you?”

Screaming interrupted them as a figure ran towards them then past them.

“Say, wasn’t that Helena?”

Helena ran faster then she had ever had before. In a blink of an eye her dream had shattered and she had been back in that dark and dirty mansion, but that time she was not alone. Never has she been so afraid.

Finally she reached her home and shot through the doorway like a bullet. She was home, safe at last.

Labored breathing plagued her as she leaned next to her own window, trying to catch her breath. The next instead she was gone. No time to even scream. Two pale hands ripped throw the window and hauled Helena away.  Never was she seen again. But sometimes when her friends walked by the place during the day, they could swear they saw a bride standing at the window looking down at them; a bride who looked a lot like Helena.

Halloween Short Story Competition Entry #4

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Alfred James grunted loudly. It was an utterly ridiculous holiday. Piles
of orange mush pulled out of pumpkins with embarrassing
facial expressions, people running around in crude costumes and
demanding sweets from people with whom they are not even acquainted, and
trying to scare the living daylights out of each other with plastic
spiders and fluorescent skeletons. It was preposterous.
Back in his day, children had certain levels of respect, and were not
nearly as rude as those of the current time. Why, these days,
children might as well just break down the doors and say, “Hand over the
chocolate,Punk,” for all that it was worth. He was sure that it was a
bad influence, and would lead to terrible, spoilt behaviour as they grew
older. He couldn’t see how their parents could stand for it.
Muttering to himself, Alfred made his way across the room,and lowered
himself carefully into the old brown armchair, which creaked as
he settled and leaned back, closing his eyes. For a moment, all was
silent. His breathing slowed, his mind cleared, and he began to slip
into slumber...
The doorbell was the newest installation to Alfred’s home,though he
kept the brass knocker above the letterbox, and the rusty chiming sound
was accompanied by a high pitched giggle, poorly disguised as some
sort of beastly groan. Alfred grunted and shifted in his chair, hoping
the children would realise that he did not wish to answer the door, and
go away.
The bell went again, backed by irritated voices.
“Alright, alright,” Alfred muttered as he pulled himself from the chair,
and leaned against his cane as he walked across the room. “Keep your
hair on,”
The bell chimed once more, and was closely followed by a hammering on
the knocker, far too loud for Alfred’s comfort. Any harder, and it was
sure to be damaged. He sped up his pace and managed to reach the door
before the bell was rung again. Grunting, he pulled back the locks and
opened the door to a short boy laden with toilet-paper, two girls in
purple coats and hats with green strips of paper which fell down over
their blonde hair. There was also a taller boy wearing ragged clothing
and a morbid expression on his face. To Alfred, this boy looked no
different from the teenagers he saw walking past his home on any other
“Trick or treat!” They informed him, in what was supposed to be unison.
The eldest boy’s voice lingered long after the other three children had
shouted excitedly, one beginning a little after the other.
“Trick.” Alfred glowered, and slammed the door shut. A few moments later
a wailing sound came from behind the door, some hushed voices and then a
loud hammering on the knocker. Growling, Alfred removed his hand
from the lock and opened the door again.
“What do you want?” He asked roughly.
“Look, sorry, but what the hell was that?”
Alfred inspected the knocker, ignoring the appalling language of the
speaker, not the eldest boy, as he had expected to be responsible, but
the taller of the two girls in pointed hats, who continued irritably.
“You don’t just slam the door in someone’s face. Look at the state
you’ve gotten my brother into!” At this, she gestured to the
tissue-clad boy, who was wailing and being fussed over by the other
girl. “That’s not on. It’s Halloween. You don’t want visitors, say so,
or get a bloody gate.”
Alfred knotted his eyebrows, peering at an imaginary dent in the metal.
He had left his glasses on the chair, and being against those
ridiculous Jack-o’-lanterns, he had no source of light outside, so was
struggling to see.
“Look- Are you even listening to me?”
Coming to the final conclusion that the knocker was not damaged, Alfred
turned back to the children and took in the scene.
“Are you deaf,man?” The girl asked, loudly.
“Look, I haven’t any sweets for you. I’ve made that quite clear already.”
The girl took a step forward.
“Look, the least you can do now is give us something, as an apology if
nothing else.”
Alfred grunted. “Fine, then,” He muttered, digging into the pockets of
his jacket, and pulling out paper bag, which he opened and slipped
a hand into. “There you go,” he said, gruffly, removing his hand and
placing a single aniseed ball into each of the children’s bags.
The four children looked up at him, speechless, and he held their gazes
until they turned and walked back towards the road, muttering between
Alfred didn’t even wait until he could no longer hear their rude remarks
before he pulled the door shut and set the locks again.
There were a further twelve visitors after this first group,each of
whom were offered either “trick”, or an aniseed ball from the bag.
With each visit, Alfred was becoming increasingly grumpy. There was even
a point when he wondered how the holiday would be celebrated when
somebody really was killed on Halloween.
However, he managed to keep the butter knife from their bodies, and
didn’t even threaten to hit the children with his cane. This was
unusually kind for Alfred, and he began to wonder that he might be ill.
“Probably some disease from those children,” he told himself, “It can
only be expected when they’re wrapping themselves up in bathroom
And there it was again. The kindness. He wasn’t blaming the children,
but the toilet paper. This was most unusual. So unusual, in fact,that
he decided best to get some sleep, and hope that all would be better
by morning.
He took his cane and stood up slowly, supporting his spine with one hand
as he did so, and took a step forwards. His right foot hit the ground,
and the room blackened suddenly.
It took Alfred a moment to realise that the illness hadn’t blinded him,
and the lights had simply gone out.
“Damn crazy kids,” He muttered, looking out of the window to the houses
opposite, all of which still had lights on.
He reached to the wall on his right for the light switch, and clicked it
once.Nothing happened, and he flipped the switch again. Nothing.
Cursing,he ran a hand across the edge of the mantelpiece, reached a
matchbox, remove done of the small wooden sticks and flicked it across
the rough side.  After a couple more swipes, the match lit,and Alfred
held it up to one of the wax candles on the shelf, lighting them all in
turn. “Damn those crazy kids,”
Taking the metal dish which held one of the lit candles, he made his way
across the room and struggled with one free hand to unlock the door.
Eventually, he succeeded,and swung the door open, holding the candle in
front of him and peering out.There was nobody there.
He took one last look about, and was just shutting the door when he
heard a noise behind him. He spun around, cursing at the pain which shot
up his back, and came to see nothing but his own hallway, illuminated by
flickering candlelight.
Shaking his head at the sudden paranoid behaviour, he turned back to
close the door and found himself looking straight into the eyes of a
young lady with tousled blonde hair.
She wore a sleeveless leather tunic and boots over denim trousers. In
the glow of the candlelight he could just make out the black webbing
across her veins, and her darkened lips. Alfred had never seen a
Halloween costume quite like this before.
The woman's blackened lips stretched into a smile, before parting and
forming words which didn't quite fit her mouth. "Hello, Alfred," She
said, in a tone which was both pleasant and terrifying, "My name is
Tanith Low."

Halloween Short Story Competition Entry #3

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 As the sun began to dip into the western horizon, the children began
coming out, beginning to roam the streets, going door to door, begging
for treats. These four children got more than a few treats. This is
their story, read it; if you dare.

As the sky began to darken into night, the children began to roam
about, dressed as ghouls and ghosts.
A group of four stood apart from the rest, not wearing the costume of
one of the more common ones, instead choosing to wear more outrageous ideas.
One of the boys, a tall lad with blonde hair and big blue eyes, was
dressed as a zombie pirate, while the only other boy wore a rotting
pumpkin that had been decorated with Christmas lights.
One of the girls, with shiny gold hair and green eyes and obviously the
leader, wore a rebellious vampire look, with dark streaks through her
hair. The other girl, the smallest of them, and the most shy, wore a
simple witches costume, though not very traditional, it was the least
outrageous of them all, going by the type of costume, but, by the
colors, it was the most outrageous. With yellow, orange, and black
colors mixed together, and different shades collided to create the most
dazzling, and the most shocking costume.
They walked the neighborhood, growing bored at the poor decorations and
the already rotting pumpkins with drawn on faces.
"This is boring," Jordan, the blonde girl, said.
"I agree," Steve, the rotting Christmas pumpkin, said. The other two
nodded agreement, though the witch, Danielle, looked a bit reluctant.
"I have an idea," Jordan said. "Let's go to the abandoned part of town,"
"You sure? That place is supposed to be really haunted," Jack, the
pirate, said. "Yeah, it'll be fun, trust me," She said. Jack said nothing more. "Now
come on, let's make a quick trip home, dropping off this candy and then
let's go to the old town and see if we can't find any ghosts."
After they had dropped everything off, and checked in with their
parents, who were all, conveniently, at a Halloween party together.
The kids set off, taking flashlights and extra batteries just to make
sure they wouldn’t be in the dark. Steve decided to bring a video
camera to document their findings, Jack, noticing this, decided to also
bring a camera, followed by Danielle and Jordan.
“Let’s go hunt some ghosts,” Jordan said before they set off for old

When they got to the old part of town, the full moon had climbed high
in the sky, signaling that they had a couple hours left until midnight.
They separated into pairs, the girls together and the boys, and went
exploring. The boys went to the graveyard, the girls to the town
center; all with their cameras rolling, trying to catch any sign of

Steve panned his camera left and right slowly, trying to catch any
movement, his eyes glued to the screen.
Jack had also brought a voice recorder, as well as a camera, and had
both running.
They nodded to each other briefly and silently and moved off to cover
opposite ends of the graveyard, hoping to catch something, anything, on

Jordan and Danielle turned in a circle, admiring the large buildings.
“I wonder what happened to shut this place down.” Danielle pondered as
she looked in a store window.
“I don’t know,” Jordan answered. “Let’s get the cameras out and see if
we catch anything.”
Danielle dug into her pocket, where she produced both video camera, and
a digital one.
Jordan saw this and nodded. “Wish I’d thought of that,”
They moved off, covering more ground by splitting up, though they
stayed in each other’s line of sight at all times.

Steve walked slowly among the tombstones, the farther he walked, the
older the dates became.
He looked down at the camera screen and frowned; he stopped walking and
re-wound the footage, and nearly lost his balance. He had caught a
white mist darting among the older graves.
He looked up to where it had been, as if he might be able to catch a
glimpse, but to no avail, whatever it was, it was gone.

Jack had walked slowly among the tombs, careful not to disturb them; he
had the camera level with his gaze, while he held the voice recorder
out in front of him.
“Is anyone here with me?” He asked for the third time. He saw something
on the camera and panned over to where the brief flicker had been, but
saw nothing.
He paused in his step and set the recorder on a tombstone and re-wound
the film and what he saw made his jaw drop.
There was a figure darting towards him from one of the mausoleums. He
heard a quiet click that might as well had been a sonic boom.
Pressing record on the camera, he set it down on the tombstone and
picked up the recorder, and re-wound it and played it back.
He actually sank to his knees in shock at what he heard.
“Get away… Get help,” The voice on the recorder said.

Jordan walked very slowly through the town, occasionally going into one
of the deserted shops for a few minutes to try and catch anything
there, but to no avail.
Finally coming to the last house on the block, she walked up to the
window and looked in. The room was in shambles, with shelves collapsed
onto the floor and cobwebs everywhere.
She walked over to the unlocked door and opened it, briefly feeling a
rush of cold air, but dismissed it as the built up air from the shop
blowing out, though she wasn’t entirely convinced.
She walked inside, slowly moving through the debris, until she came to
one area that wasn’t damaged, curious, she walked over to it. There wasn’t even any dust.
“That’s strange…” She said quietly, turning around, her eyes glued to
the small screen. As she turned, her leg hit something, making her
stumble, she glanced down at her leg briefly, and then back at the
camera and shrieked in freight.
There was a figure standing right in front of her.

Danielle walked out of the building she had been in, looking up and
down the street for Jordan. She turned and started walking up the
street, to the one store that caught her eye up here. It looked to be
an abandoned toy store, with the dolls and teddy bears, once looking
brand new and cheerful, now looked like something out of a Chucky movie.
She walked inside, coughing as her footsteps kicked up dust that had
been sitting, undisturbed for who knows how long. She walked around the
store, picturing it in its heyday, when it was clean, and the toys were
on the shelves and the children who must have begged parents to let
them come inside to buy a new friend.
She heard something behind her. She turned sharply, camera in one hand,
flashlight in the other, to find nothing there. She relaxed and started moving again.
She stopped in one of the aisles not in shambles and knelt by a doll
that looked as though it was supposed to be a rag doll, though you
could hardly tell anymore, with most of its hair gone and one of the
eyes missing, and, perhaps one of the more freaky things about it: it
was frowning. She leaned closer, confused. She thought all dolls had a smile.
She heard Jordan scream, startling her into dropping her flashlight.
She cursed and reached for it, when a scream was ripped from her throat.
The doll now wore a smirk as it stood in the light of the flashlight.

Jack and Steve came running, hearing both the girls’ screams.
When they were in the middle of the road, trying to decide which
direction to go it, they heard a cracking sound and looked down at
their feet: the road beneath them had a massive crack in it.
They looked at each other in shock, just before the ground caved in
below them.

No one ever comes to the Old Town, and this is why, if you try, you
will meet your end. Some say that the ghosts of the four teenagers now
haunt the Old Town, scaring away anyone who would dare intrude upon
their sanctum, and so it shall always be.


                          The End

Halloween Short Story Competition Entry #2

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  The silver flash of the knife as it went flying through the air. The drip, drip, drip of blood from its serrated edge. The howling laughter of the girl with the grey eyes, hiding in the shadows. The screams and cries of distraught kids passing by. The tip of the knife protruding out of the mouth of its target, handle embedded in the top of her head, covered in layers of long mahogany hair. The thud of flesh on concrete as the young girl fell, assorted candy spraying out in an arc behind her. The lone hysterical cry of “That’s mahogany!” meaning bitterly twisted by the horror of their context. The sparkling gold of a mockingjay pin, twinkling in the darkness. The look of surprise, fading to a dull sheen as she hit the pavement. Lonely. Helpless. Dead.