Howl-o-ween 2018: Spooky Story Competition - Closed

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So we heard you like a good scary story. Now is your chance to spin your own in this year's scary story competition.
Can you tell a tale that will chill our bones and make us sleep with the hall light on?


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All Entries must abide by the Rules of the Wolfhome Forum
You can enter as many times as you like!
All entries MUST be written by you.
Do not copy someone else's story.
Be kind and supportive of other entrants.
HAVE FUN!

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First Place: 15 Deltas
Second Place: 10 Deltas
Third Place: 5 Deltas


The deadline for this contest is October 31st
Good luck!!
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Sun Sep 30, 2018 11:00 pm

oh this is my THING

edit:
what's the limit (min and max), does it have to be a story (poetry?), if we go over the limit can we upload somewhere else, etc. I HAVE QUESTIONS STARTS SCREAMING
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Wed Oct 10, 2018 10:28 am

winchester wrote:
Sun Sep 30, 2018 11:00 pm
oh this is my THING

edit:
what's the limit (min and max), does it have to be a story (poetry?), if we go over the limit can we upload somewhere else, etc. I HAVE QUESTIONS STARTS SCREAMING
No minimum, but let's stick to short stories! Poetry is fine add well!
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Sat Oct 20, 2018 8:05 pm

11 days left!
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Fri Oct 26, 2018 6:25 pm

I'm entering this!
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Sun Oct 28, 2018 1:55 pm

Only 3 days left to submit your entries!
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Sun Oct 28, 2018 2:17 pm

Fik wrote:
Sun Oct 28, 2018 1:55 pm
Only 3 days left to submit your entries!
Where do I submit them at?
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Sun Oct 28, 2018 3:38 pm

Kratos wrote:
Sun Oct 28, 2018 2:17 pm
Fik wrote:
Sun Oct 28, 2018 1:55 pm
Only 3 days left to submit your entries!
Where do I submit them at?
You can post directly to the forum. You don't have to spoiler, but it would be appreciated!
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Sun Oct 28, 2018 5:22 pm

screams?
Spoiler! :
Even the soft whisper of slippered feet seemed to echo loudly along the hallway as Angela made her way towards the set of oaken stairs that led to the lower level of the house.

She'd thought she had heard something as she lay in her bed, slowly drifting off to sleep. It was a tiny sound, like the tingle of very small bells being disturbed by a slight draft. It had only sounded once, and she had barely heard it even then, but it had awoken her, and compelled her to leave her warm bed and venture out of her room in search of the noise.

But now at the top of the staircase, the brass chamber stick held aloft to cast the light of its weak flame down into the darkness of the lower floor, she was beginning to think herself silly.

"It could have been anything," she argued softly to herself, "A loose shutter lock, a neighbor's wind chimes." But despite her doubts she began to descend the stairs. pulling her night gown closer to her body, as the fire had gone out hours ago and a chill had begun to settle into the house.

Moving from the steps, she wound her way trough the parlor, cupping her hand around the chamber stick as the flame danced and weaved with her movements, a little too much at times, and threatened to go out. She lad left her matches upstairs and didn't look forward to making her way around blind.

Through the parlor she searched, then on to the kitchen, she peeked in the larder, the scullery and then scoured the dining room. She checked everywhere she could think of, including the box room and yet she found nothing amiss, nothing that could explain that small, barely there jingle, that her mind insisted had come from inside.

"This is ridiculous," she huffed, becoming more and more irritated by the second, "Why am I wandering around this silly house, in the dark and cold for a sound I may have not even heard?" Angela squared her shoulders and walked back though the rooms, fed up with this silly little venture, bothered that she let herself give into the curiosity.

As she moved back through the parlor, however, she thought she caught a glimpse of something, just a quick flash, of lights behind a curtain. the curtain itself was swaying ever so slightly. She shrugged it off, a draft, a glimpse of a carriage lamp headed down the road beyond the house. Things not normally out of place, and she moved on.

But, as she reached the bottom of the large staircase, it came to her again, that tiny tinkle of sound, but from upstairs instead this time. Her interest piqued yet again she gathered the bottom of her nightdress and hurried upward, stopping in the middle of the stairs to adjust her grip on the candlestick, she thought she again caught a glimpse of something. Fur was it? And that flash of light, it must be some kind of animal that had snuck in and decided her home would be a better choice than the freezing temperatures outside.


"Well, that just won't do!" She exclaimed, picking up the pace so as not to loose the little intruder. "I will not have some stray raccoon, or worse, skulking about my house in the middle of the night!"

As she reached the long hall she once again raised the chamberstick above her head, tying to cast some light, but it was pointless, the only door opened was the one that lead to her own bedroom, and she had known that. Possibly she had been hoping that another, closer door would have been open, even just a crack, and that she wouldn't have to worry about the creature invading her personal sleeping space, but alas.

With a sigh she walked quiet and steadily towards the portal, careful not to make any sudden noises that may cause the animal to dart beneath some heavy piece of furniture where she would never be able to get to it. Standing outside of the door she puffed out her candle, noticing that the chill of the house had finally settled, she could see her breath quite clearly, and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim stream of moonlight spilling into the hallway.

When she felt she was ready, she reached out and slowly but surely eased the heavy wooden door open wider, slipping into the room, and stopped. There, sitting calmly at the foot of her bed, as if it had been waiting for her was a large cat. A very large old tom, who seemed to not have a care in the world that it was now facing the woman who's house it had so brazenly invaded, and whose bed it now sat so regally upon as if it had always belonged there.

"You, cat!" Angela barked out, her nerves returning for the most part now that she was assured it wasn't some kind of vicious possum or raccoon, "What do you think you're doing in here, SKAT!" she flapped a hand at the cat, intending to spook it as she yelled the last word. The cat however, calmly stayed put, not even the slightest flinch, nor movement of an ear.


Angela frowned heavily, how dare this beast just ignore her. She glared at the creature, wondering what could be done about it. At first glance she had thought the tom was a solid black color, but now as she looked she noticed a deep dark grey swirling pattern throughout its coat. And glaring into its eyes, those unnatural blue eyes... She shook her head, her thoughts had been wandering, she needed to get rid of this cat and now, so she could return to bed.

"Ah, the broom!", she thought. She always kept a broom behind her bedroom door, and it would be perfect for chasing this menace from her house, or at least her bedroom for the night to deal with in the morning. But as Angela reached out to grab it, the cat's demeanor suddenly changed.

No longer was he sitting calmly at the and of her bed, but standing at her feet, no longer was his silky smooth coat relaxed against his muscular form, now it was puffed out at all angles, his tail held high and puffed as well. She had thought him big before but now he looked unnaturally large and she stopped in mid movement, actually afraid now, and she dare not move. What if it attacked, it may be rabid.

Thought raced through Angela's head as she stared at the increasingly agitated animal, wincing as a high pitched keening began to issue from its mouth, its sharp white teeth and pink tongue in stark contrast to the shadow of its face.


Backed into the corner now, she had no where to go, and her initial fear had now turned to panic. She shot her hand out, grabbing the broomstick and whipping it around towards the animal, who dodged the bristles deftly, hissing and lashing out with wicked claws.

Angela waved and jabbed the broom at the enraged animal, catching it several times with a swat, but with the last jab the cat caught its claws on the bristles and with a jerk the handle slid from her sweaty palms and clattered to the floor.

The cat crouched, that long keening wail issuing from its maw, its eyes deranged as it suddenly leapt forward, right towards Angela's face and she screamed, flinging her arms up to protect herself. She braced her arms waiting for the moment of impact, the feeling of sharp cat claws and teeth digging into her arms, ready to fling the horrible beast away from her.


But, it never came, and after a moment Angela peeked from between her raised arms, thinking that maybe the cat had made a mock leap at her and was waiting. But there was no cat, not in front of her at least, and so she lowered her arms slowly and looked around the room, confused and a little shaken. The cat was gone, the house was quiet.


Angela stood there for a few minutes, listening intently for any sounds, maybe the animal had just retreated somewhere else in the room and was waiting. But no, there was nothing, the room felt empty, sounded empty. There was only Angela, and her confusion.


Putting a hand to her forehead she checked to see if she felt feverish, maybe it had all been a strange fever dream, and she hadn't been awake at all, maybe she had been sleep walking, she thought.

Moving across the room, she crawled into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, she was practically freezing now, as all the heat had dissipated from the house long ago, and the tea she had been sipping, that sat on her bedside table was forming a thin layer of ice across its surface.

Still thoroughly confused, Angela pondered what had just happened, if in fact it had happened at all, and as the adrenaline began to run out of her system, and the warmth of her bed began to take away her chill she started to doze, fading in and out of reality. And just as she felt herself crossing the thin line between sleep and consciousness, she again heard a faint, tiny jingling sound coming from somewhere, but this time she did not wake.
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Wed Oct 31, 2018 12:14 am

idk man i just went with it. it's quick n fast and maybe spooky. featuring (slightly) resolution!
Spoiler! :
The house is unremarkable beyond the location. It reminds you of the big, southern plantations that you’ve seen advertised for tours, with a large wrap-around porch and two stories high. It’s in disarray, but not structurally so – just leaf clutter crowds the porch and steps, with dust and cobwebs clinging to the windows. Still, you wait, watching, listening for any signs it is inhabited. You’ve heard stories of the people that live alone in the woods and seen the movies – it isn’t a risk you’re willing to take.

The light is failing quickly as the sun sets, and you keep seeing something out of the corner of your eyes. You’re not sure what it is – every time you try to focus on the house, your peripheral vision picks up movement from the woods to your side. The shadows shift with the failing light, the trees and vines casting long, humanoid shapes against one another – or at least, this is what you tell yourself. When you turn to stare into the darkness of the forest, you still see the shadows move, usually against the light.

You aren’t sure what it is, but you reassure yourself it’s from your hangover from the party last night, your eyes playing tricks on you. Your head is pounding – maybe it’s a migraine. Still, as the sun dips below the canopy of the trees, you do not want to be out here when darkness falls. With a bout of confidence, you rush up the stairs, and try the knob.

It opens as if it waited for you – the hinge creaks quietly as the old door swings inwards, blowing leaf clutter into the home. It’s silent, cold, and dusty. You can see the orbs of dust floating around, dispersed by the autumn wind and the motion of the door. You pause in the doorway, listening, straining your hearing to detect if you’re alone. After what feels like hours – in truth, not even half a minute – you decide it’s empty. Still, not wanting to risk surprising someone, especially someone in the south where shotguns are as common as people, you call out a simple greeting: “Hello?”

No answer.

Quietly and quickly, you close the door behind you, using your sneaker to brush the debris out. You stand, wondering, if you should lock it – it would make you feel safer, truthfully, but what if you need to escape quickly? In the end, safety wins: you slam the deadbolt home and turn to explore.

You find a living room with a fireplace, dusty from lack of use, ashes piled up behind the grate. You decide this is a good place to make your camp tonight – you have windows to see the porch, are close to the door, and plenty of hiding places. Carefully, you lay upon the couch, and when it doesn’t collapse – gods, it looks so old – you sigh.

You do not remember falling asleep, but when you awake, the sun has long since disappeared. The moon lights the yard just outside the window. You aren’t sure what woke you, but your heart is pounding against your chest. You’re about to just write it off as waking in an unusual place, especially some mansion in the forest, before you hear it.

Click, click, click, click.

You strain to make sure you’re hearing what you think it is. You do not hear the footfalls, but you hear the definite sounds of claws on a wooden floor – the soft clicking of something approaching. You breath out in a rush, and in your terror, dart behind one of the other couches against the wall. The sound approaches, steady in its steps, as if it belongs here. It is not a terrified animal that somehow – perhaps an open window – managed to get inside. It is something that belongs here.

You can barely make out the shadows with the moonlight – it’s still too dark – but whatever it is, it’s large. You cannot place what you think it is: a bear? A cougar? It’s still too big, too lithe, to be either of those. But still, even in the poor shadows, you can see the grace with which it moves, thinking it’s cat-like in some fashion. You realize the head has horns, and now you’re reminded of a dragon, but they’re myths, aren’t they? You mentally damn yourself for drinking the night before, but hey, at least this is going to be one hell of a story.

The soft clicking of the creature’s footfalls retreat from the room, or so you think. You have not seen the shadows move, but the sound seems further and further away. You wait a minute, then two, then five, before finally sighing in relief. The sound is mimicked behind you. You spin despite the closed space, breathing hard, heart pounding, to face whatever it is.

Hello?” the creature says, a perfect mimic of your voice from when you called out before, before all goes dark.

---

You sit up suddenly with a shout, panting heavily, eyes slowly focusing around you. You’re in the cabin – the actual cabin the party was held at, friends passed out around you. Relief washes through you, and you chuckle low to yourself. It was just a drunken fueled dream – nothing more, nothing less.

You push yourself up, heading into the small, basic bathroom to throw water on your face. The light flickers on, slow as it is bound to be in older cabins, casting the room from early morning shadows and into a pale, yellow light. You stare at yourself in the mirror – bags under your eyes, dirt on your face. You don’t remember going outside when you were drinking the night before.

The light flickers and you glance up, slowly, expecting the bulb to be dying. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your own shadow move. Slightly, but different from how you moved, inhuman almost. It’s the alcohol, you tell yourself; the lack of sleep, of course.

Glancing back to the mirror, you jerk away from your reflection, eyes wide as you try to focus. You were sure you saw the horned beast behind you, just now, even when logic tells you it would not fit into this small bathroom. You’re about to chalk it up, once more, to your tiredness, to the drink, whatever, when slowly, the creature materializes beside you, impossibly large in the small room, a grin on its maw.

It is staring directly in your eyes.

You try to scream, and nothing happens. Again, and again, you try to scream; the doorway is blocked by the creature’s bulk, incorporeal and yet so real. You finally collapsed onto the floor, covering your head with your hands, willing yourself free from this nightmare.

The creature speaks, slowly and assuredly, in your voice. The grin has never left.

“Poor little mortal – stumbling upon things that do not concern him,” it murmurs, “Poor little human – bound to my service, as my eyes and ears in the mortal world.”
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Wed Oct 31, 2018 4:38 pm

Thanks guys! Everyone's been added!

Only a few hours remain for this contest!
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Sun Nov 04, 2018 7:31 pm

Winners have been chosen and the lucky winners are....


@Absentia who came in first place with their bone chilling story!
@Kratos in second place with their spooktastic story!
and @winchester in third place with their creepy story!

Congratulations! Your deltas have been added to your delta banks!
Thank you to everyone who participated, they were all great stories to read and hard to choose from!
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Sun Nov 04, 2018 8:13 pm

oh!YAY!!! CONGRATS EVERYONEEEEE!!!!
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