Flash Fiction Challenge: Scary Story In Three Sentences

Last week’s challenge — “Five Titles Make A Challenge” — exists for your perusal. Oh, and a quick housekeeping note: still reading through the last Epic Game of Aspects stories to determine my favorite! Gimme time. You guys did some awesome stuff and there’s a good amount to go through. Soon!

Today is easy.

Er, easy to describe, difficult to do.

This is another “write a story in three sentences” challenge except –

Drum roll please, make it scary. (Meaning: horror.)

And please, under 100 words.

This one’s a little different from all the others in that, I don’t want you to post at your respective online spaces. I want you to post here, in the comments. I’ll pick a favorite of the stories and send that person something scary. Er, “scary,” maybe, I dunno.

Remember: a story is not a vignette.

It has a beginning, middle and an end. It is not merely a snapshot in time.

You have, as usual, one week. Due by October 19th, noon EST. Though, note — I’ll be in Los Angeles that day at Storyworld and the Writer’s Digest West conference giving a talk and doing some panels (so if you’re out that way, do come say “hi”). So I’ll get to the stories after the weekend is over and I’ve flown home, drunk and filled with the glittery dream poison that is Los Angeles.

164 comments

  • Outside Emma’s Window

    Trapped in Drew’s gaze, Emma opened the window.
    ” Drew,” she said, “what happened to your eyes?”
    His answer was a smile full of razor sharp teeth; the last smile she would ever see.

  • She turned around and gaped, choking out a stifled scream. There in the wall was a twisted, terrified pale face of paint and drywall, its lips frantically contorting in a silent scream. Warning her, begging her to get out.

  • I had to do this for an assignment in school. This is what I came up with.

    With the shredder rolling right behind her, Jeanette walked into her husband’s office and began to feed the stacks of paper Steve categorized as “to-be-shredded”.

    Reading bits and pieces of marketing strategy papers, Jeanette came upon an envelope encasing what turned out to be a flyer depicting a man strikingly similar to her husband.

    Steve was a wanted raper.

  • She woke up by the voice of someone. “Wanna go jogging with me?” Thinking it’s absurd to jog at 3 am, she turn her back from the girl peeking at her window sill and realized she’s on the building’s fifth floor.

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