First, I’ll point you to a few e-book sales going on till tomorrow:
The Gonzo Writing E-Book Bundle is five bucks off with coupon code NAPLOYONOMO. This is good until the end of tomorrow (10/31). Eight writing books for fifteen bucks.
Both The Blue Blazes and The Hellsblood Bride are 50% off right now if you use the coupon code: HALFANDHALF. This is also good until the end of tomorrow (10/31). In these books, there is a literal underworld beneath Manhattan, and the things that dwell there very much want to dwell out here, and will do whatever they can to make that happen.
If you want a mega-epic-holy-crap bundle of writing books, this next month’s Storybundle is live and is NaNoWriMo-flavored. It’s 13 books up front with another 12 books added if you meet the $25.00 threshold — remember, too, that some of your money given to Storybundle can be split to go to charity. This bundle doesn’t end tomorrow, to be clear — it goes on through November.
AND NOW ON WITH THE FLASH FICTION GOODNESS.
This challenge is simply, and goes till the end of tomorrow –11:59PM, 10/31.
I want you to tell a scary story in three sentences.
Keep it short — and keep it to three sentences.
You can write it right in the comments below.
GO FORTH AND BE SPOOKY
*barfs up tarantulas*
257 responses to “Flash Fiction Challenge: A Scary Story In Three Sentences”
Whenever I go to the forest, I hear steps ahead of me.
Once, the moon illuminated the way and who was ahead of me.
He was a man, but his steps in the mud were hooves.
She was his wife.
She is his ghost.
Said the woman threw her fan with eyes that held the measure of your soul.
Out from abyssic darkness they crept. The meek and feeble did wail, and wept. Prey, unto predators, their paths now intersect.
From the moment I read this a moment ago I knew the moment would come when someone would invoke the powers of ryhme. A most worthy offering from the house of “Toil and trouble, froth and bubble”.
It’s Halloween and the techno-beat shocks him with electric excitement. Tonight, the club above him would fill to capacity with revelers in all their garishly-garbed glory. For him, costumes were but unnecessary garnish on his dance floor buffet.
She didn’t worry when, in the morning, every radio station played “Don’t Fear the Reaper.” She was mildly disturbed when, in the afternoon, her drive home from work was stopped three times by funeral processions. That evening, the ravens that flocked her car caused her heart attack.
Oh, good one. I like your twisted story.
The force of the car coming to a sudden stop against one of the mountainside trees was enough to shove his shin bone out through his leg and into the car door panel, and shove his regret at checking the “failed to send the only text you typed with any hint of your location, you dipshit” notification straight through his heart. In a heartbeat his world went from a flurry of chaos to the isolating silence of the forest, punctuated only by the tick of the cooling engine, his own pained sobbing, and, after a few minutes, the click of the trunk being sprung from the inside. As he listened to the dead girl’s footsteps in the leaves, he struggled against his metal and bone tether until she stood outside his broken car window with a raised tire iron, the remaining half of her face flapping grotesquely as she whispered, “This is for the rest of them,” and started her first downward swing.
Seems the 1999 legislation that made car trunk internal releases mandatory might possibly have a downside after all – if you’re the kidnapper.
She takes a deep breath, focusing on not making a sound as she sits in a steel cylinder located in a far dark corner of an abandoned construction site, hearing only the patter of rain.
She takes another breath, glad to still be alive, knowing that her legs can no longer take the punishment of pushing off muddy ground, her pursuer keeping pace with her every step.
She takes a third breath.
She hated passing old people for she could hear them when nobody else could. Teeth gnashing, the demons of dementia worked on everybody of all ages fading memories and narrowing the senses, but they got careless and more voracious, louder with age. Ignorance was bliss, but also the luxury of everybody else.
Dad raised us that way- and everybody on the block always wants to be at our parties, so what does that tell you? They always make a big production of it, crying and screaming, but they all know what they came for. We’re just charging them the price of admission.
“I know he’s you, but if you let him live then every version of you will be trapped in eternal torment if you don’t pull that trigger” he yelled.
“I don’t care if I die a thousand times, a million times, as long as she’s okay!” I yelled back.
With a tired sigh, he lifted the quantum disperal ray and said, “Why does every single freaking version of you say the same goddamn thing?”
Where do I get one of those quantum disperal ray thingies? Would I be right in guessing it’s more a speciality electronics gadgets store scenario than a Walmart type deal?
actually they are quite common. i picked up one at my local store and it can with a free time displacement field.
also good story. i can see a proper full length out of this.
A free time displacement field is all well and good but (A) Does it come with a money back guarantee? (B) If I accidently drop it in the toilet will it still work? and (C) Is it likely to be superseeded in four months time by a newer model? Sorry for the questions but like any gadget buyer I’ve been stung before with grandiose claims that simply didn’t deliver with the result that I now no longer jump at the newest toy on the market.
Well it is free. So no guarantee. But it does work in a toilet. Unfortunately since it froze time in a relative field it has blocked a toilet for fifty years.
I imagine there will be a newer model but the factory has been quantum locked. And therefore doesn’t exist while we think about it.
Money back grantee is good though
Thankyou Addy for adding this most helpful consumer report however I forgot to enquire regarding one more chestnut – are replacement parts easily obtainable? Nothing worse than having to wait eight months for a substitute spring mechanism, plasma valve, transmutation sprocket or some such other part to be sent from Denmark (or wherever) when the old one has given up the ghost a week short of the presumed warranty period.
hmm that is a tricky one. Especially considering how expencive a plasma valve can be. i do hear that the next model is backwards compatable but in the mean time you will need to order it, only to realise that it’s already arrived.
Still quite a price for a replacement, need to take into account future inflations and the like, and solar flares mess with their wepsite. Just dont try phoning them. the hold time is a nightmare.
Addy, I am indebted to you. I feel now I have the confidence to make an informed decision regarding this possible future – and I do mean ‘future’ – purchase. The power as always, with no small help from you, lies in the hands of the consumer.
“I’m not racist! I’m voting for Carson! I think he’ll do a great service to this country.”
That’s a truly scary story. Can’t wait for the film version :}
In all her years of planning for this day..now was the time. The scent of skin, taste of fear, and warmth of blood. And with that first taste at life, the dark, and time……I taste cheetos???
With a deafening unholy roar, a well of fire erupted from the zirconium casket. Up into the sky a column of black smoke ascended, twisting and swirling like a dark tornado. “He’s gone, I’m afraid,” Dr Austin said, barely disguising his tone of disappointment – his sanity now positioned squarely on the chopping block for all to see.
I’m afraid your aims might be too diffuse.
She had two beautiful blue eyes, just like her mother. She had two deep brown eyes like her father. The origin of the other seventeen was somewhat less certain.
Someone’s gotta say it – beauty is definitely in the eye of the beholder.
I see what you did there!
And madly manning the flippers on this wordhog pinball machine I see your ‘see’ – so now the optical nerve puns are definitely becoming an eyeful (ok, awful).
*bow* Well played, sir….well played.
“It’s just the dark, sweetie. The dark can’t hurt you.”
She laughed, “Of course not, Mommy; it wants you.”
This is wonderful! Love it!
If this wasn’t in a compilation of scary stories, then it would’ve been really effective!
Great! Very creepy!
The sounds of the ocean, waves breaking on the shore, woke her from a deep, deep, slumber. Her salt encrusted eyes were slow to open, the sting of cracked lips a grim reminder. The ocean was desert; and ashes fell like snow.
That classic James Dean-esque picture of you and the drink-vending machines on your WordPress.com account – is that by chance Tokyo?
Yes — in Ginza. Not far from Itoya, the greatest stationary store on the planet!
I also will admit to being a stationary gourmet. Gourmet not in the Hannibal Lecter sense but more, as the french would say a ‘bon vivant’ ( one who likes to live well and who appreciates luxury).
I heard the scratching in the middle of the night.
Lover, lover, naughty lover, left down there to rot.
And rot she did, so why was she scratching?
oh i love the ryme in the second line. it made the second line sing-songy and all the more errie
He said he’d love her forever. Each night, his remains rose from his crypt and made good on that promise. She wondered, could zombies cross an ocean?
I woke just as the engine shuttered to a stop outside the police station. Imagines flashed through my mind; my kids, my wife, but most of all screaming, lots of screaming. I looked at the blood dripping off my hands, wrapped around the steering wheel, and confessed to the approaching policemen, “I think I’ve killed someone.”
Karla grasped onto the winning ticket as if it was life itself. A slender beauty escorted her through the labyrinthine TV studio while the light of a thousand flashes blinded her–cleansed her–on the way to the set. “Run for your life,” the beauty whispered as she pushed her into the arena.
I know they are always watching because I can feel it. Sometimes I hear them. I don’t think it will be long now
I called her name again. I rapped on the window. Hopefully, she’ll answer me when she stops screaming.
The lid closes, shutting out any trace of light. I count each breath as the dirt rains down over me like airstrikes in contested territory. One . . . two . . . three, death comes slowly to those who wait.
Burying all jest and putting all kidding aside – this one has a real pro-author feel to it.
“This is the last train, baby. First me then you, and we’re off to see daddy,” said Norma to baby Lily.
Baby Lily nods remembering the rules and hears the roar like imminent thunder.
She cranes her head to look down the platform when her face is smacked wet and air whooshes her palm where her mothers hand used to be.
I can’t believe no one has commented on this so I’m just going to say it. This is awesome. You are awesome.
I’m glad you think so! 🙂 Thank you!
that was horrifying…. so great job!
i know its too late but hey. heres mine:
Oh why oh why can i not die.
they slit my throat and bled me dry
but why oh why can i not die!
Late entry, but I just wanted to get it out there. Thanks!
Just before he flicked off the lights for the night, Mara heard a knock at the door and his heart stopped for a moment. A late-night knock at the door wasn’t that unusual. She just hadn’t expected to hear it coming from inside the closet.
This one is good, so in tribute –
(Then add whatever line you like along the gist of “I don’t wanna know your private business!”)
Oops. Last minute gender switch that didn’t quite take. Here it is again.
Just before she flicked off the lights for the night, Mara heard a knock at the door and her heart stopped for a moment. A late-night knock at the door wasn’t that unusual. She just hadn’t expected to hear it coming from inside the closet.
This one’s for Mara..
Help madam finger is stuck in the door.
* For all the internal dialogue ‘knockers’ who may think “Seriously? I came here for literary content – not Knock Knock jokes – I say “You’re a writer aren’t you? You’re allowed to embrace contradictory concepts.”
LOL thanks Glen.
I can’t see anything. From the darkness, a whisper. “There isn’t anything.”
Well, if it ain’t the ‘ol existential incubus!
Way too late, but who gives a Sheboygan?
“Congrats! You’re hired,” quoth the supercilious man, extending his hand.
“Thanks, I’m really looking forward to this,” replied Chuck Wendig smugly.
The job announcement on the desk read, “Speechwriter for Donald Trump.”
That’s sweet! Touche’, sayitsultry!
When we first aimed our dishes at the sky, we feared we might not find anybody. Then we found somebody, and we feared they might not understand us.
Now they’re here, and there is not enough firepower in the world to save us.
[…] challenge this week: a horror story in three sentences. And since I’m still on a sci-fi bent, why not sci-fi […]
Children need to be kept safe; especially babies; especially Sarah. I had to put her where nothing and no one could ever harm her. And Grandma always said that her preserving jar was the best; anything you put in there will last forever she’d say.
Oh, shit! Damn, that’s good!
Thanks – now if only I could write a slightly longer scary story.