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WRITE TO FRIGHT COMPETITION 2017

We ran a contest for a horror story based on the October season. These were the entries.

Moon

Competition Winner

Bad Things Happen on Tuesdays - Ainsley Sierra

Most bad things happen on Tuesdays, Mrs. Beck thought to herself as she drove back down the winding road. The sky had been hidden behind looming clouds all day. One of the lights on her car was kaput, which didn’t help. It broke so often, that she had given up on fixing it. She shivered, as she passed the bend leading into the wooded section. Some say that there is a curse on that bend, but Mrs. Beck doesn’t believe in curses, only bad people. Her arthritic hands clenched the wheel tightly, when a strange man by the side of the road came into view. She had seen him many times before, always on a Tuesday. She pushed her foot on the gas, it just made a sad cry and the engine died. The man grinned at her from the passenger side window. “I can make it all go away,” his eyes pierced into her soul.

 

“Make what go away?” She asked carefully. The man gave a cackling laugh, “your pain, my lady. I know how your back aches at night, keeping you awake for hours. How your hands shake constantly. Head always burning, eyes always straining to see. I know it all. I have what you need.” She just stared blankly at him. “I don’t have money,” she said plainly. The man howled at that, bending down and clutching his knees from the laughter. “I’m sure we can agree on a different payment method,” his eyes burned into her. He held out a small pill, with a heart on it, “I know you want it.” Her hand quivered, reaching out to unroll the window.
 

She tested the engine again, and the car roared back to life. She would get away easily. The man’s hand stayed stretched out and open. Her finger was inches away from window button. He gave her a smile, “it will have a price you know.” Mrs. Beck didn’t give him the time to tell her. She geared the car into reverse, slammed on the gas, and turned. The man’s smile fell right off when he saw the car facing directly towards him. Mrs. Beck didn’t hesitate, in her 83 years of life, she learned that actions were best taken immediately. The man’s bones made a loud crunch as he was smashed against the tree. She hopped out of the car, pried the magical bag from his stiff fingers, and strolled back to the car. A life-time of drugs sat next to her in the passenger’s seat, and she didn’t have to pay for a single one. Her left headlight had fallen out completely, and the blood on the right one cast an eerie red light on the road. Mrs. Beck smiled. Most bad things happen on Tuesdays, she thought to herself as she drove back down the winding road.

Runner Up

A Human Trait - Juliet Dijkstra

“We live in the land of the midnight sun, Alma. Look, there it is,” mamma points at the sun. Her hair appears ephemeral in the sunlight, gold dust that could fly away at any moment. “I love you”, saying this she steps onto the turret wall, bare feet pale against the dark stone. She turns to face me one more time, she says something; words blown away by a gust of wind. The sharp intake of a breath, the faint smell of burning meat, one last look and she falls. Mamma lies like an old doll on the ground, broken and in need of repair. Gripping the cold stone wall I watch as her hair turns a rusty red color, no gold remains in her halo. This cold morning isn’t beautiful anymore.
 
Entry #1, September 1 2017
            Our castle belongs to me now. The foreboding fence, the infested moat and these smooth black stones. Sometimes I touch the stones as I walk, trying to glean memories from the small etchings she made on the walls. An alphabet that I’ll never learn. Memories are small movies we keep in our heads, ones that get worn until you forget faces. Give it a few more years and it will be even harder to recall the sound of her voice. That’s the sound I miss the most. But I’m okay, it’s okay, I’ve got other ways to remember her.
 
Entry #2, September 26 2017
            It’s been a while since anyone’s come to visit, that’s probably because I never invite anyone up here. Too much hassle and stress, and I don’t feel like playing the role of hostess anymore. I need to make an appointment with a cleaning company that specializes in cleaning animal farms. Mamma left me a whole barn of them with no instructions, the stables are starting to smell and they’re attracting flies. It disgusts me, in all probability the cesspools are close to full.
 
Entry #3, September 29 2017
            Pulled Pantao is one of the most delectable dishes that exist. I haven’t made any since Mamma died, I think I’ll try to find one of her old cookbooks. Walked to the library just now and lo and behold I’ve got a book titled, “Exquisite Cooking for the Homebody”. The recipe reads
How to cook pulled Pantao
 
Ingredients
1 pantao shoulder (numbers 3-5 are the best)
1 teaspoon Vegetable oil
½ cup Apple cider
2 large cloves of garlic
Instructions
Pour the vegetable oil into a slow cooker
Place the Pantao shoulder in afterward
Stir in some lime juice and brown sugar
Cover and cook on high until the roast shreds easily with a fork
Timewise it should take 5-6 hours
 
Dear Alma, one of the best tips I have for cooking this is that it’s best to leave it overnight. That way the Pantao soaks up the juice and you get a burst of flavor when you eat it.
 
At 6:00 pm I go to check up on the animals. 
 
Each stable has a circular block of wood before the entrance, indicating the type of animal (ethnicity in this case, because our family loves collecting species from all around the world) and the number they’ve been assigned. Mamma, being the diligent caretaker that she was, made sure to feed them exactly as their diet required and gave them antibiotics every morning. In the recipe she mentioned that the animals from barns 3-5 had the best shoulder meat. When I looked at them I did notice that their shoulder areas were very well built, I’d guess that this is the result of the exercise regime that they do every day. When I was smaller I saw that they would sometimes pull something really heavy up into the air and then drop it quickly, I always found it a little odd.
 
Entry #4, October 7 2017
An old man came by today, apparently the animals from stable 6 have contracted kuru. How? I don’t know, I’ve been feeding them exactly as their diet requires, maybe I should re-check the books Mamma left me. This is what she wrote.
 
Feeding the animals in barn 6
Tips
These animals are best known for their fat, in fact the species comes from a very reputable American breeder. They could be compared to the pig, however they are fatter by far. Extra caution needs to be taken with these animals because they tend to be very delicate! No exercising and definitely no walking around! Keep them in their stables! They also tend to be very noisy, if they ever annoy you in the slightest, switch the switch outside their rooms. It makes them docile because it frightens them, so use this only in dire situations.
 
Dietary Requirements
These animals eat carbs, carbs and more carbs. Here is a list of foods that are readily available on the market for these animals.
1.     Meat
2.     Rice
3.     Milk
4.     Sugar
 
Number 4 is a very important dietary need. If these animals don’t get enough sugar they’ll lose their weight, which we don’t want happening. Feed them their favorite foods, which includes Jolly Rancher flavored candy, Pumpkin pie and hamburgers.
 
Well, now I know. I still don’t understand the reason why one of them contracted Kuru though.
 
Entry #5, October 10 2017
I checked up on the animals in stable 6 and I found out why they’ve contracted Kuru! Stable 6 contained two males, both of which have seemed to form a strong bond with the other. It was strange watching them interact because usually these animals would fight for a female but they seemed content sitting with each other. After conducting a strange ritual, it seemed very much like a mating one, albeit a little odd. After that one of them got sick. He got skinnier; the other male on the other hand didn’t have any effects. As time goes by the skinny male gets skinnier and suddenly dies. There is only one male left in stable 6. He ends up pacing the floor and crying a bit, I feel bad for the both of them, they seemed to be really close. Then the male did the strangest thing, he started consuming the dead skinny male. A few more days pass and the second male dies too. After watching these videos I get a sense that these Pantao also have feelings, it makes me feel strange.
 
Entry #6, October 19 2017
Dead things have started littering the castle floor. It’s been a while since anyone but me has been here and I’m definitely not cleaning that up. 
 
Entry #7, October 21 2017
As of late I’ve started feeling a bit sick.
 
Entry #8, 23 October 2017
Whenever I feel this onset of melancholy I burn one of the animals alive. Mamma told me this brings out the flavor but to me it reminds me of her. I remember that faint smell of meat when she died. There is more than one way to remember a person and for me that way is to recreate my senses. The burning of the animal comforts me, its screeching cries remind me of the little lonely girl I once was. I feel a kinship with this dirty being, for a few minutes we both experience what it’s like to lose something so dear to you it feels like an all-consuming fire.
 
Entry #9, October 26 2017
I’m dying. I know it. I can feel it in my bones. The animals are lucky because I’m setting them free. Maybe it’s because I feel guilty. Mamma once said, “New king, new character”, she told me that it was a Filipino proverb that meant, “New leadership always brings new ways”. At first I didn’t understand why she told me that, but now I think I do.
 
Entry #10, October 28 2017
I did some more research about this language called “Filipino” and apparently Pantao means human in Filipino.
 
Entry #11, October 29 2017
All the animals are gone, they left walking on their two feet, backs straight. Carrying children with them. I thought they would come to visit me. They didn’t. I waved at one of the younger ones as he walked past my window, he looked at me, spat at the ground and walked away.
 
Entry #12, October 30 2017
The doctor came today, I’ve got Kuru. But mother told me that the Pantao we ate were different from humans, that they weren’t humans, even though they look just like us. Mama would never lie to me so I can’t possibly be a cannibal, right?
            
Entry #13, October 31 2017

I figured out what Mamma was trying to say when she fell.
 
“Humans lie too”

 

Third Place

Ruination - Praewprach L

It wasn't you. Of course it wasn't you. You wouldn't sneak into my locked room in the middle of the night and send emails from my laptop.  You wouldn't chop off my hair and leave the scissors right next to my head.  You wouldn't try to strip my blankets into shreds and leave my head hanging off the mattress and you especially wouldn't try to leave the world I know so well in rubble.

​

It had started with an email from me to a girl whose email address was ‘666’.  It was something I didn’t send.  An empty email only filled with the meaning of the three numbers.  I searched everywhere for clues, the eleventh grade math classrooms, the lunch rooms and even asked you.  You said you didn't know.  I remember you shaking your head, long dirty blonde hair slapping against your thin cheeks, eyes wide with something that looked only like fear.  I walked out on you then.


During lunch, as I was pushing the school’s brittle mashed potato around I saw the texts that had been sent from my phone.  Numerous slurs and insults all to ‘666’.

​

Me: You betrayed me
Read 10:23am

​

Me: You hurt me
Read 11:11am

​

Me: You ruined me
Read 1:47pm

​

I pocketed the phone and walked to the toilet, slamming the door behind me.  Leaning over the basin I started washing my face, taking the time to look at my hollowed eyes and thin web-like fingers, caught in the act of pushing back several greasy, uneven strands of hair from my forehead.  The girl in the mirror looked like a ghost, like someone who never had a reason to exist and never wanted to.  I had the sudden impulse to run when someone rushed into the bathroom, tears dripping down her face and mascara running as she locked herself in a stall and started sobbing.  I didn’t know it was you.  I wish I did.
“Are you okay?” My voice bounced back to me, sounding eerily empty.
“I’m fine.” You were stuttering, words tumbling over one another.
“Do you need any help?” My voice was pitched low, a different sound than I was used to.  It sounded like I was coaxing a dog somewhere, the quiet, threatening voice you hear before a needle gets inserted into your arm and your life falls in front of you.
“No, It’s...better for you not to be involved.” The clank of a school bag sliding onto the linoleum floor told me to go but the caught up sobs told me to stay.  I leaned against the enamel edge of the sink, waiting for you to come out but you never did.

​

As I headed out to my car after school, I kept an eye out for you.  I was supposed to drop you off at your house today, wasn’t I? But when I turned slightly, my eyes caught you with an arm draped around a friend's shoulders, smiling and laughing as if nothing had happened.  Flitting emotions, never lasting, that was expected of you. My eyes caught yours for a millisecond before you looked away, following your friends out of the parking lot.  

​

When I walked back to my car, the tiniest bit of oil was leaking from somewhere.  I rounded the old Honda a couple of times, pulling up the lid to inspect the engine.  
“That doesn’t look so good” A voice deep in tone drawled out next to me.
I turned.  A guy probably a good 10 inches taller than me with the very beginnings of stubble on his chin was frowning at me.
“What’s wrong with it?” I touched my sneaker to the oil, letting it coat my white converses with it’s yellow stains.
“Wires are all connected to the wrong place.  Looks like deliberate work.  If you started the car, it would explode.”
“Then where’s the oil coming from?” My socks were wet, soaked with the thick golden liquid.
“It’s leaking somewhere in the fuel tank.  That doesn’t matter, though.  You’ve got a serious problem on your hands.  Are you sure no one is trying to kill you?”  
“I...Why would they?” A wind ruffled the ends of my new cut bob, reminding me just how short it was.
“Well, whoever it is, you better be careful.  I’ll call the police and give you a ride home?” He was already fishing his phone out of his pocket.
“No...no, don’t call the police.  I don’t want trouble.  Please....” My heart and head was empty, not enough space to think of anything but home and you.
“I...Fine, I’ll bring you home then.  Tell a car repair company or whatever to pick up the car.  Tell them it’s explosive” He headed away from my car, leading the way to a dented pickup truck.  I could’ve called a cab, I could’ve walked home or took the bus but instead I got into a stranger’s car, with nothing but the thought of the mascara trails on your pale cheek.  

Luckily, I got home alive.  He dropped me in front of my dilapidated apartment, giving my hand a firm shake and introducing himself as Lloyd.  
“I’m Chelsea.  Thank you for the ride and for telling me about the car.  I’ll call the repair company.” I shook his hand, managing a timid smile before waving, turning and heading into the apartment building.  

​

The loneliness of it greeted me first, closely followed by the smell of rotting food and stale urine.  No one was home yet.  Of course they weren’t home.  I headed to my room, the refreshing scent of air fresheners and perfume enveloping me as I closed the door and settled onto my bed with my banged up laptop.

​

Lloyd5207
Did you call the repair company yet?

​

Chelshearts
How did you even get my IM user?


Lloyd5207
Your friend, what’s her name again? 

Rose

​

I started.  Rose, that was you.  I remember telling you not to share my IM user, ever.  But I suppose things have changed.


Chelshearts
Oh, yeah I called them.


Lloyd5207
Good

​

I reached for my phone, hoping for someone to talk me through what to do next.
“I’m sorry, the person you have called is-” I punched the end button with my finger.  You’d changed your number.   You didn’t tell me.

​

Midnight rolled around faster than I thought it would, the glow of the laptop keeping me from getting up and facing the life outside of my room.  Out of pure curiosity I called ‘666’, lying down and running a hand across my forehead, the slick stain of sweat coming off on my fingers.
“Hello?” It was your voice.
“Rose?!”
“I...Uh, I’ve got to go.” You had a steely edge to your voice.  Something I’ve never heard before.
“Why-” The call cut short.  I checked the messages app again, and the email.  Someone must’ve hated you, so intensely to hide behind me.  Lying the computer and phone aside, I closed my eyes and drifted off into the abyss of sleep.

​

“You think I’m the one who hurt you?” A whisper woke me.  I turned and found my nose touching yours.
“Rose?”
“You act like you can’t remember anything.  You act like you didn’t just wreck my life.  You act as if I’m the one in the wrong even though you are.” Her menacing smile glinted in the dark.
“Well, you left me.  You left me for everyone else.  That’s why I told the teachers about you.  You deserved to get suspended for everything you did.  The cheating, the bullying, the stupid way you parade around the halls. And sure, maybe I’m so insane I decided to send hurtful things to you, so insane to cut off my hair and rip my bed in a fit of anger, so insane as to try to blow my car up.  But you know what? You lead me to this.  My life...My life was always an empty void.  You know I don’t have anyone here with me, you know that there’s only you who’s ever tried and helped me.  But you left.  And you made me insane.” The crushing isolation pushed onto my chest, and as I tried to get up you were suddenly on top of me, cold fingers on top of my pulse.
“Chelsea...you were always insane.  I’m just here to make it worse.”
And with that my world fractured.

 

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