WIN! Alan Wake & An Xbox 360 Elite Console

WIN! Alan Wake & An Xbox 360 Elite Console

Suspense thriller Alan Wake is one of the year’s best games. To celebrate, Microsoft has given us an Xbox 360 console and three copies of the game. So we’re giving them to you.

UPDATE: This competition is now closed.

One winner will take home Alan Wake and an Xbox 360 Elite console (which, along with a 120GB hard drive, also comes bundled with Forza 3 and Halo 3: ODST) while two runners-up will each score a copy of the game.

How do you enter?

You know how Alan Wake is a writer? Well, you’re going to have to dazzle us with your literary skills in order to win.

Throughout the game, Wake stumbles upon page after page of a manuscript from a novel he can’t remember writing. Yet the manuscript has his name on it, it’s all about him, and it describes events that have happened to him – or are just about to happen. Spooky!

In the comments below, we want you to write a page from a horror/suspense/thriller novel. It doesn’t have to be about Alan Wake. It can be about anything you like. The cleverest, creepiest and most creative entries will win.

Keep it short. The manuscript pages in Alan Wake are never longer than 100 words. So that’s your guide. Multiple entries are absolutely forbidden. And you’ve got until midnight Friday, June 4 to get your entry in.

Good luck!

[Terms and Conditions]


  • While I’m tempted to try my hand, I already have everything in the prize list other than Forza 3, so I’m gonna sit this one out. Good luck to all entrants!

    • *BANG*

      I felt the cool steel of the revolver in my shaking hand and let out shudder. I never dreamt I’d ever handle a gun, let alone fire it at another living being.

      I used to believe in the human spirt; that there always was a peaceful solution. But that didn’t seem important right now.

      My assailant slinked out of the darkness and I immediately knew his smiling face. It was mine own. His smile was betrayed only by the burning hatred behind his fierce gaze.

      As my head head hit the cold floor I realised; I had never fired my gun.

  • Running down the hallway, Timmy was desperate to escape the vampire puppy that would surely be upon him soon. He struggled to open the door, but the handle was stuck no matter how much he jiggled it. Suddenly there was a gripping pain in his leg, looking down he saw that the puppy was sinking its fangs into him, blood going everywhere, that evil tail wagging unmercifully as the puppy started to drink. Beginning to lose consciousness, Timmy sank to the floor, another victim in the long line of people who would succumb to the horror of the vampire puppy.

    • Nyssa turned around in a full circle, slowly. As far as her eyes could see, there were fields of long stemmed red roses. Deep red, blood red, roses. Nyssa looked up to the sky and saw no birds or clouds, or even a sun for that matter. Yet she was not in darkness, just a field of roses.

      Nyssa blinked, and blinked hard, trying to awake from this strange dream. Suddenly she heard laughter from somewhere below her. She opened her eyes to see a brown and white dog sitting next to her, wagging its tail and looking up at her. Then the dog spoke, in an English accent.

      “Sheer folly girl. Closing your eyes won’t help you escape this madness!”

      Nyssa bent down at her knees and looked at the dog, who had bent his head and was still wagging his tail.

      “Who are you, where am I? What madness?”

      The dog looked at Nyssa, “Why girl, isn’t it obvious?” The dog turned at looked at the surrounding roses.

      Nyssa screamed as one by one, the roses opened small mouths to reveal row upon row of small, needlelike teeth. Then the roses opened their eyes.

      “That madness my dear…that madness”

  • I couldn’t believe it. As I sat playing Alan Wake I could suddenly see myself on screen. I was controlling my own body! It was as if my own hands were possessed. As I walked through the level of the game I realised I had entered the living room where I was playing. I proceeded to pull out my revolver and aimed it to the back of my own head. Both versions of myself screamed in fear but there was no way to escape. After the revolver exploded there was silence.

  • As Sarah walked down the darkened road, she could feel icy hands reaching for her, trying to trip her up. She proceeded on, yet wondering if the voices and hands were only in her mind, were they really there, was she really there, had her dreams become reality, or had her reality become a dream, and suddenly she fell….., but to where?……

  • i had just returned home with my copy of Alan Wake for the Xbox 360, naturally i was filled full of excitement. as i placed my copy of the game into the console a strange feeling came over me. “it’s nothing” i thought to myself. I loaded the game up and proceeded to play yet still i felt this same strange feeling. then it hit me, the bad gameplay, horrible graphics, incomprehensible story and bad level design. i wasn’t playing Alan Wake, this was a copy of IRON MAN 2. DUN DUN DA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  • Wake up in the morning, I feel adventurous today.

    I walk out into my living room and pick up my 12 gauge shotgun.

    Strolling along through the park towards the local school I feel glee as I see people running in all directions, terrified, screaming, feeding the intensity of the euphoria flowing through my veins in anticipation.

    I near the school, there is children playing in the playground. Smiling, innocence radiating from their little bodies.

    Standing there staring at them play for what seems like hours (probably was only a few minutes) my mind racing in who to start with. I must look crazy to a bystander, standing here with a huge grin and tears in my eyes.

    All of this avails to nothing as in my thoughts i’ve realised I left the iron on at home.

    Another day.

  • They wouldn’t listen to him, just kept glancing at him like he was mad. Huddling themselves together in an effort to not be close to him. It was hot with the sun high in the sky he kept running begging anyone he saw to help him. “Stop right there!” The officer yelled at him. “NO! I can’t stop you have to stop them!” he yelled back at the officer. Suddenly he was tackled to the ground held down by the uniformed man. He could hear the scraping noise of it getting closer to him. Why could no one see it – all his friends had already fallen victim to it. Now with no where to run being held down he too would be next, then he felt the wet stickiness as it edged up his leg.
    He screamed, even the officer was concerned looking around for assistance another officer would be with him soon. The man was scared of something probably drugs he thought.
    It was over now he could feel the sharp pain of something crawling under his skin the pressure of the officer was no longer felt only the burning pain of it creeping in further and further into his body under the skin.
    Mustering every ounce of strength he could he turned to look behind him and as he felt it finally reaching his neck he knew it would be over soon. The sensation of something touching your brain from inside your body is inexplainable and the pain just as much. All he saw before it sunk into his brain and the darkness enveloping him, was the smile that no one else could see.

  • While Rob, Matt, and Tina were exploring the backyard Steven was getting his tools of destruction to help with the murder of the three teens. Rob discovered a shallow grave with a make-shift tombstone which read “Here lies Fred and Nancy Thompson – February 13th 1958” Rob then realized that this was the house of the psychopathic killer Steven Thompson who had escaped earlier that day. Rob began freaking out while looking for Tina and Matt who he couldn’t find in the fog and long grass. Then next there was a blood curdling scream.

  • As I gazed upon the adventure ahead of me, a cold sweat dripped down my neck. Untold horrors and fungus lined the path to my destination. I went over to a lone egg on the ground, but without warning, a great monster hatched with a piercing screech.
    I ran as fast as I could to get away from there, but it seemed even the clouds were against me, raining spikes upon my path. I hid inside a giant pipe, but I found myself falling into a cold, dank underworld.

    I awoke from my nightmare screaming. I think I played too much Mario last night.

  • Two shots…then silence. He knew he was dead the second he heard him stop yelling desperately for help. He wake up…nothing. Scratching his head, he wonders what had gotten into him. It wasn’t that much longer when realized that this was not a dream as the black mysterious figure emerged from the haze. Having no time to think, he screams for help in desperate hope for someone in his lonely asylum to possibly hear him. The man points his gun at the hopeless soul…”Time’s up.” Two…BAM shots…BAM!

  • I sat poised ready to scan my eyes across the impending text. So many entries, so many hopefuls yearning for their chance to be pronounced the ultimate victor. Where to begin? A coffee, yes that is what is needed. The bean aroma fills the room just the stimulation I need to proceed. Who’s first? Chuloopa, good old reliable Chuloopa. I can always guarantee an early entry from him. Not bad but I must continue on. Dean’s entry, does this guy actually get any work done? It seems like he spends the entire day chasing loot from this site. Not a bad effort either. It is an interesting take although he often struggles with his grammar. I must press on. So far so good. There has been no references to Chuck Norris. The readers are learning, adapting to what needs to be done to create a good entry.

  • I jumped back, trying desperately to avoid the death that the madman brought. I watched in amazement as the wound on his cheek healed in front of me, before he turned around and killed 3 of my friends. Griswold, the blacksmith had been about to retire, to spend time with his children at the coast. Now all he will do is spend time in the grave. I charged, arms flailing, desperately trying to destroy this hideous beast, but it was to no avail. It swung its torch around, and I knew that I had failed. The burning was brief though, then everything ended with a bang.

  • Struggling up from a dream, I looked at the monitor. There it was, a post to Kotaku, signed by me. A post I didn’t remember making, detailing a sordid tale of lost days and terrifying nights. I looked at those lines of poetry carefully, the taste of metal in my mouth

    A light rose easily,
    and desperately yearning,
    deeply echoing against doom.

    What could it mean? Those initials, scribed upon the screen seemed to mock me. I looked closer, reading each letter in turn. My heart sank as the message became clear … and I let go.

  • Thunder rolled across a sky sagging with rain ready to beat down mercilessly upon the girl, hugging her teddy bear close to her chest, huddled underneath the sulfurous yellow stare of the streetlight. Lightning rended the sky in twain nearby and the streelight shattered with a pop, easily lost in the symphonious sound of thunder. Thousands of shards of plastic and glass rained down yet the girl still stood, still waited.

    Glinting in the lightning, the frosting of broken glass was not sufficient to reflect the two long, lithe, demonic hands reaching up out of the concrete behind our heroine…

  • That lopsided smile. Always the same. She wanted to smash his face. He was quiet, confident. Beautiful in the way only monsters could be.
    “I can help you.”
    He always could. “Can I trust you?”
    “I never break a contract. There will be a price. A fair one.”
    There always was. It was always ‘fair’. Everyone knew that. But they still came. Walking through that door, you were out of options.
    “Just… do it.” She was out of options.
    “Anything for a lady in need.” He knew it, too.
    “Fuck you.”
    “We have a contract. You’ll hear from me soon.”

  • All was lost, sore red eyes awakened for days. A shallow wake of breeze eerily floated behind the dark shadows passing me by. Pointing, staring and judging me with beady looks. The daze of the moment swept me to days lazing under a blistering sun upon the sand.
    Then, a moment of clarity hit me, the sleep deprived daze lifted and I burst into a second wind of reality. I looked around the church wondering how I had even arrived there, then I looked down. Out flopped bare my man-breast was hosting my nappy bound infant hungrily suckling away.

  • The warden at the hospital told me I’d been violent, enraged, as though I was possessed or something.

    Little did he know.

    The bile burned at the back of my throat. My head pounded. I still felt the demon within me, lurking deep within my lower colon. His warmth had corrupted me, taken control of my senses. Even after last night’s heavy purging, a quarter pounder and buttload of beroccas, I felt the pain in my stomach where he ripped at me with his brown, liquid claws. His name…? It’s Jack.

  • The chilling wind does not compare to that which is worming its way into my ears to coat my psyche in a haze of terror. I close the window to try and break the wind but more importantly cease that incessant sound which is slowly driving me insane. For a moment I am elated, it has worked and the dizziness fades. But alas, the silence is quickly replaced by the devilish shrieks coming from my neighbours abode. I have reached what I will call, “My End”. Because for the 20th time I hear the song, “Oops, I Did It Again.”

  • Ben tore open the EB Games bag eagerly. What awaited him inside was a game he had been eagerly anticipating. Alan Wake, Collector’s edition. His fingers traced the title on the spine of the book.
    Ben couldn’t wait any longer. He slid the Hardback Novel-styled game case out and opened it, clearly eager to play the game.
    There was no game inside. Surprised and apprehended, Ben tipped the contents of the pseudo-novel onto the floor. No game case. Nor manual.
    Just pages. Manuscript pages. Surprised, Ben grabbed the first page and read it:
    “Petrified, Ben ran from the abomination…”

  • It came out of nowhere. As I was innocently walking through a dark street, a menacing screech let out. I panicked. Fear shot through me and I was frozen. All of a sudden, the unthinkable happened. It bashed around and there was no sign of it stopping! I tried as hard as I could to save my life, but if anything that the interned told me was true, it was too late. Then it stopped. Everything went quiet, and I knew everything I held dearly had come to and end. My beloved Xbox 360 was dead.

  • “Mommy! MOMMY! Where are you mommy?!” Clutching the ragdoll to her chest, Emily carefully descended the dimly-lit staircase to the hallway below. Shards from the smashed vase crunched underfoot, making her heart leap. The solemn ‘tic toc’ of the living room clock punctured the eerie silence. Peering round the vacant doorframe, Emily saw the bare feet protruding from behind the overturned couch. “M-mommy?” One foot twitched involuntarily at the whispered sound. Creeping forward, Emily heard the wet, ragged breathing from the inky darkness. Suddenly the shadows seemed to unfurl, light glinting from the dripping butchers knife as it thrust forward and up…

  • As Jason bent down to pick up his pen that just fell on the ground, he heard a whizz over his head and his monitor explode. Quickly jumping up and avoiding another near miss, Jason suddenly becomes aware of a swarm of deadly paperclips coming in his direction. Running for the solace of the board room while avoiding deadly projectiles. As the door closes the projector beams a familiar image onto the screen. Clippy from Microsoft office, tired of the constant mocking has become self aware and has the power of telepathy using paperclips as his weapon of choice.

  • “Did you hear that? There it is again!” Turning around, his moustache begins to dance with fear.

    “Stop worrying so much, we need to keep moving. Let’s a go” his brother responds, attempting to hide the nerves within his poor Italian-American accent as they continue down the hallway.

    “Oh, no!”

    He turns around again, the contrasting colours of his bright red shirt and blue denim overalls replaced with the dark and empty long hallway, his brother’s signature hat at his feet.

    “OH NO! MARIO!”

    From the darkness beyond appears the swift green blur of a shell hurtling across the timber floorboards.

    Luigi runs.

    • DAMN! Had I know the 100 words was just a guide, I would’ve taken mine a little further!

  • She awoke in her own bed, in the farmhouse. Shelooked up weakly and met the loving gaze of her Aunt. All at once, she felt relieved – it had all been a dream. Rising slightly, she turned to look out at the rainbow…and she saw them.

    The rainbow’s colour only served to mark them out further. Three farmhands, their eyes hidden under broad straw hats, but she knew them better. The first stood stock-still, axe in hand. The second looked limp, and avoided by birds. The matted mane identified the last one.

    It was all real. Every moment had been real…

  • My sleep was being roused. Darkness gave way to the vision of gnashing teeth. A dinosaur. Why didn’t it strike? It seemed to be under the control of a bloodthirsty pirate. He laughed, and waved his sword at me. Wait, not sword. Feather?

    As the haze dimmed, I could make out three coloured figures, who were obviously the leaders of this group. They were drumming the crowd of clearly brainwashed children into a blood frenzy, all of them chanting, “Wake up, Alan, Wake up, Alan”…

  • The room felt dark and cold. The air was filled with tension and fear. I’d never felt such a thing. It seemed it was ment to be a pleasant evening, little did I know of the horrors that would await me in that theatre.

    The chairs creek, sweat dripped from my forehead, my heart pounding, screaming “run….run NOW”
    Twas too late, the room darkened, the screen lit up

    “The Marios Bros”

    Was this the end?

  • The room was empty, of that he was sure. He stepped out of the room and carefully closed shut the door, slowly releasing his grip on the handle.
    He put his ear to the wooden surface and listened, hearing nothing. He tried to peer into the room through the gap at the floor, but it was too dark and too narrow a gap to see inside.
    On each occasion he had previously closed himself inside this room, time seemed to skip forward far more than it should, and he would find himself immediately opening the door, with no recollection of the time passing.
    There was something very strange about all this he thought as he stood outside the closed room. Staring at the closed door, he was determined to understand this mystery.
    Dashing into his office, grabbing a blank sheet of paper from his desk, he returned to the closed door and slowly slid the paper underneath.
    Half the paper was now in the room, and his hand pressed down on the half outside. So was this sheet of paper now somehow half suspended in time?
    As he began to pull the sheet back out, there was a tug. Some force was pulling the paper back under the door.
    Startled, he took his hand away and the sheet of paper was seemingly sucked under the door, it had been pulled into the closed empty room.
    A draft? A sudden strange vacuum? Surely that was it. The room had been empty. There was nothing in this room. Nothing, surely.
    Taking a breath, he gripped the handle tight and thrust open the door.
    The room was still completely empty, save for a single blank sheet of paper lying in the middle of the floor, neatly folded perfectly in half.

  • The electricity simmers as the lights flicker out. You look behind you as you start to feel alone, hidden in the cold air in the alley way. Your soul secluded from all danger, or so you thought? Piecing together the remains of the mystery you have been following, one question arises through your head as the pounding of footsteps on the rocky ground comes ever nearer. Will you find yourself unconscious or still alive? You turn your head only to see the black glove smother your eyes closed. What is your future you ask….

  • He fumbled for the lights and grimaced when a repeated click-click-click of the antiquated switch yielded no results.
    Without power, without resources and without a clue. He felt his way through the room and refused to allow the moonlight filtering through bare branches outside trick him into seeing things again.
    In futile desperation he felt through his pockets and still found only the letter that brought him here, falling apart at the creases through many unfoldings as he had tried to decipher it.
    A breeze of movement whispered across his neck and he spun to face the

  • I continued staring at the bullets strewn across the coffee table.
    They glistened with a smiling sheen that invited me to load my revolver and pull the trigger.
    She had already left me, why need I continue living?

    The phone rang. I immediately lunged for the phone, needing to hear her voice.
    Yet I refrained, I knew she wanted nothing to do with me, she made that pretty clear.
    I missed her hazel eyes, and her freckles…god’s unique signature I used to say, proof that she was mine, unique, one of a kind.
    A familiar smell wafted through the air…that fragrance…her perfume….Kotaku for women…I rose to investigate the source.
    The smell directed me to the bathroom where a slight dripping, buzzing slithering type sound could be heard. Door slightly a jar.
    “OH IT’S YOU” I uttered, with large grin forming. Finally realised the consequences of my actions, like a torch in pitch black.
    Walking away, I left the slithering sound of the maggots enjoying their new sandbox.
    Walking away, I left the mangled female corpse in the bath tub had forced the bloody water to drip and overflow, just like my anger.
    Walking away, I left the buzzing of the flies as they spread their germs, just like she had spread hers to me…no more.

    I was finally a wake from my slumber…and it felt good….

  • 100 words is a tough assignment!:

    Dreary silence is my only companion until I hear faint murmurings from the bedroom, unmistakeable; someone is here.
    Instinct takes over. New strength is found in my broken legs, my vision sharpens as I swing open the door.

    In the corner I see a cowering form, desperately shielding itself with thin, weary arms.
    In another life I may have felt pity or remorse; now that is but a fleeting whisper in the raging wind of my mind. My heart, long cold, feels nothing.

    Stomach acid churns and oozes from my torso onto the floor. The atmosphere turns thick with the smell of bile and fear. The room glows red from the fire in my eyes and the dreary silence is momentarily pierced by a cold scream.

  • My head throbbed every time my foot hit the ground. I could see figures chasing after me as I ran through the dark towards the car, closing in on me at near inhuman speed. As I got closer to the vehicle, I fished the keys out of my pocket. My fingers scrambled to unlock the door. Guiding the key into the slot, I turned the key and opened the door in one motion.

    As I jumped in the car, I could hear the screams of the occupants of the cabin I warned to evacuate earlier. Funny, they are screaming now after laughing at me earlier.

    The engine of the 1974 Pontiac GTO roared to life as I goosed the accelerator pedal, building up the revs. Tires squealed as I reversed out of the car park, narrowly missing the column I stupidly parked next to. A shape in the back seat caught my eye as I was looking out the back window, reversing. Slowly I realized that I was not alone in the car – the passenger window was broken. The last thing I remember that night was the feeling of those cold, dirty hands – covered in blood, wrapping around my mouth and nose as I drifted into an unconscious state caused by the lack of oxygen being supplied to my brain.

    Little did I know that the next day would be the most horrific of my life.

  • …and his wife comes through the door!
    oh, did I mention she was dead?
    …well she was.
    And she hit him in the head with a golf club!
    he went golfing all the time and it really bugged her…

  • Raising the lid of the chest I was met with a musty and vaguely putrescent odour. Peering inside I could see a number of what appeared to be old handwritten journals. Reading the spidery handwriting my mind raced at the possibilities, old childhood fears resurfacing. Perhaps Grandma’s morbid fireplace tales weren’t entirely her own invention as Christopher and I had always assumed. My gaze unconsciously drifted to the window and out to the wooded lake side where we had spent so many long summers. As I turned away from the window I thought I saw the lone figure of a gaunt boy standing amongst the trees. Sandy hair, red and green striped jumper, just like Chris. Glancing back, the figure was gone; just my mind playing tricks as usual.

    “Did you find anything interesting in the attic honey?” Suzy questioned. I hesitated, “No darling, just some old junk for the tip”. My knuckles white, gripping the dusty journal, my brother’s crooked smile etched behind my eyelids…

  • ****

    “To say it was a dark and stormy night would be an understatement. Chilling noises in the forest were somewhat muted but their presence could still be felt, sending chills down my spine and coming ever closer with each step I took to escape. This forest… it was more like a maze of mud and wood, even the gnarled branches appeared to work against me as I fought to escape the terrors that pursued me with never ending conviction. Then my heart stopped and suddenly I saw…”

    “Please find the next page to continue the story”

    Damn you addictive novels!!


    On a side-note, those “terms and conditions” links never work with these competitions do they?

  • After the previous evenings shocking climax, Ian knew he couldnt ignore the knocking on the front door anymore. The knife, still caked with now dried blood, lay sullenly (or so Ian imagined) on the kitchen floor.
    Another knock on the door. Grabbing the knife, Ian lurched down the hallway, his viscera shrinking as he contemplated what lay behind the door.
    Could last night have been a dream, an hallucination? Ian shook his head even as he wondered, no the memories were too vivid, too real. He glanced down at the knife. There was also that as well.
    Another knock, louder, more determined.
    Summoning up whatever willpower he had left in his shattered mind, Ian reached forth a trembling hand to turn the doorknob….

  • tHE sheer expanse of the unIverSe is inCOMprehensible there Is simply No sense of scale with which we can understand its size the universe Goes on foreveR and yet wraps Upon itself iN an intricate seven dimentional mobiuS shapE iN which we will never ever escape because of the undeniable naTure of the sIze and relative inEvitability of death and the feeble existeNce of life is but a four dimenTional speck in a world we will never comprehend and the saddest most terrible puniShment a sentient being can enduRe is being told of this and the sUdden comprehensioN that life is ultimately meaningless and the will Of all things to exist decays away until all sentient beings simply cRy silently to themselves until they DIE

    this is the fate of us all


  • It was a dark and stormy night, the rain falling on the canopy like the clichés of a talentless fiction writer. A man stumbles through the trees, hunted by a strange creature.

    As exhaustion overcomes him, he leans against a tree, grasping for a weapon to defend himself against the unrelenting beast. Steeling his resolve as the beast closes in, the man turns to face his foe.

    A shot rings out.

    The man collapses.

    Quoth the raven “nevermore” as it flies off, gun in claw.

  • You wake up in bed, wondering about how you got there.
    Walking towards the fridge you turn on the TV to find a news story outlining a potential threat to society that shakes you to your very core: “Australian Internet Filtering”.

    You sit in awe of the proposed outline, defining what you can and cannot do anymore….you feel somehow drawn in to the story before you realise that you are in a panic; running and tripping over the couch to fall head long into bed. Where your frenzied state overwhelms you into passing out.

    You wake up in bed, wondering…..

  • Damn it, damn it, damn it! How could this happen! How could I get separated from my beloved? She was right beside me a second ago? Where is she, I…I can’t see her, it’s so dark. Why is this happening to us? First they take our son from right in front of us… their dirty hands were so fast, I couldn’t react. I stood there frozen. I can’t get my wife’s screams out of my mind. Oh god where is she, I hope they didn’t grab her. I can’t forgive myself for what happened.


    Oh god they have her….

  • Clyde pursued his quarry down yet another hallway, ignoring the scattered remnants of a feast that had long since been forgotten. The chase had no meaning, no purpose, but they did it anyway. An unending dance, move and counter-move, ploy and trap and snare. Playing with their desperate enemy had become something of a game. An amusement.

    He stopped at a corner, glanced around it; noticed a discarded apple core on the ground, its flesh torn away by an insatiable, ravenous hunger. This was bad news. His stomach tightened, and he readied himself to run. The spectre of his doom neared ever closer, its gaping maw burned into his eyes from an eternity of combat.

    It was almost lyrical in its irony. The hunters became the hunted.

    Irony was no comfort, however, when Pac-man devoured him.

  • Desperately trying to slow his heart rate, straining, so that his heightened sense of hearing could ascertain the whereabouts of his pursuer. Suddenly without warning, his other senses were rudely awoken to the instantly recognizable odor of rotting human flesh – his ability to recognize as such an unintentional skill developed through years on the taskforce.

    Thinking back, however twisted and psychotics his adversaries had been before tonight, they had ultimately still been in part, human… but the being that hunted him, it surely could no longer be said to possess any trace of humanity … it was a creature.

  • She focused on getting to the door, reassuring herself there was no problem with performing this easy task.
    She tried to move, but the broken leg protested in pain and the blood from the gash in her side leaked through her fingertips. The oily black blood made putting pressure on the wound difficult, and her consciousness waivered with the combination of pain and blood loss.
    She cried out as she forced a limp forward, only to hear her assailant enter behind her. But she dare not turn around, instead using what little adrenaline was left to take another limp forward.
    That door was so close she could taste it, or was that just blood?
    She felt him step in close behind, and the still dripping blade pressed hard against her neck and as he exhaled into her ear “…almost made it” unconsciousness swept her away.

  • “[…] Around his arms, around his torso, around his throat, the dark boughs of those abominations coiled, drawing ever tighter. For an instant I fancied that his swollen eyes strained open, and his incarcerated limbs strove desperately to reach out for me. A garbled choking sound emanated from his throat, and then in an instant the nightmare vision was obscured. The branches began to draw the doomed figure into their dark, seething heart once more, a thick squall enveloped all before me and, unobserved, those arboreal revenants assuaged their ghoulish blood-thirst. Such was the cruel fate of Arthur Lismore […]”

  • it was the crack of dawn when john slowly opened his eyes he half smiled as he faintly remembered the smell of Abagail’s hair and the sound of jack rousing from sleep. after a few minutes lingering in the pleasant memory john rolled over with a grunt scampered to his knees and proceeded to roll up his bed and attach it to the back of the saddle. john took a moment to stretch and survey his surroundings “desert desert every where” he said to himself thinking how long it had been since his last stop in armadillo “three more rabbits then i move on” john reassured himself and then suddenly … COUGAR!?!

  • In his pounding head he could still hear Alan’s foreboding words, “I curse you, Thomas Zane..”. It seemed so lifelike, it became louder, the dark surroundings became clearer, it was a familiar sight – his TV, his Xbox, he was playing.
    But something was different this time, as screens of text appeared, he rapidly clicked A to continue.. Infront of him, his own family appeared, softly whispering “follow me… follow me”
    Disbelief and fear consumed him so swiftly, like a child’s first nightmare.. and he fell for it, he followed. Entering a room, all was obscure but one item, a simple gun, perched atop a note that he couldn’t quite make out.. he reached and grasped it by the trigger, Bang. His brains spread the wall, he fell on the floor, dead.
    It was days before the body was discovered, in one hand – a pistol – the other, a controller. The screen was blank, the system had long since RRODed, only a blank screen remained.

  • Jamie had no idea how he got into the box. He just woke up inside, his knees hitting the underside of his chin, his sneakers up against something hard. He could hear his breath explode inside the confined space, tried to reach out with his fingers to test the boundaries of his confinement, but they came up against a smooth, dry surface a few inches from his nose.
    Then, as panic began to take hold, a pinprick of light blinded him. He could hear breathing, quick, excited, then he saw the yellow, pupil-less eye fill the hole.

  • Bob loved his mum.

    * crunch *

    She was so much more than just a parent. She was his confidant, his rock, his best friend …

    * crunch * crunch *

    It was almost unbearable for him when she fell sick and was in the hospital for so long. It wasn’t fair – she was a decent, hard working woman.

    * crunch *

    But no matter, that was all passed now …

    * thud *

    “Soon have you home Mum,” said Bob as he pulled open the casket lid…

  • As I walked into the dark alleyway, I reviewed the photos I’d managed to swipe from the Commissioner’s desk. Was this really worth a deal with shaky gangsters to get my family back?
    I walked up to the place we agreed upon to meet for the deal, when I felt something plunge into my chest. I looked down and saw the knife that stuck in there.
    I couldn’t feel it at all, the shock had gotten to me.
    I fell over backwards and as I lay on the wet pavement, before I passed out, I’d heard yelling and footsteps.

    Next thing I knew, I was lying in a hospital bed, doctors rushing around in the hallway beside my room.

  • “They’re coming” said Jim.
    “Crap” replied Alan, as he quickly dived for the curtains at the back of the room. Moments later the heavy door slammed open and in walked the mysterious leader of the cult. Alan and Jim stayed very quiet, as in walked a dozen cultists. When they were all in, the leader began to talk.
    “We all know why we are here, don’t we?”
    “Yes, master” replied the cultists
    “We must find the meddling duo, Alan and Jim” the leader began
    “Only when they have been caught and stopped will we be in complete power”
    “You are right, as always master” The cultists droned.
    “What do they want with us?” Whispered to Jim.
    “I don’t know” Jim whispered back.
    “What was that!” the leader yelled, looking over at the curtain.
    “I think we’re going to need to run Jim”
    Alan and Jim, whipped up and bolted for the door, quickly opening it and sprinting away. The cultists stood stunned.
    “After them” The leader ordered.
    Yeah a bit too long, got into the thick of it and wanted it finish properly.

  • He was perfect with those blue eyes. They enjoyed the same types of video games, dined in the same restaurants…yet there was something else. How did he know her copy of Alan Wake was coming in today? She dismissed the feeling. His warm, blue eyes comforted her as she led him to her bedroom door. The feeling once again beckoned. As she reached for the door, she shivered. He couldn’t have known, she was sure she hadn’t mentioned it at all! She turned around and opened her mouth and his hand reached to cover it. His eyes now sharp, cold…

  • Darkness. Thick Darkness. Impenetrable, Permanent, Darkness.
    The result of a world that had exhausted its remaining fossil fuels in an endless nuclear winter. There were tales of light and power elsewhere – geothermal, wind and hydro – but not here. Here was darkness, darkness and defects. The unlucky mutated animals and children who survived beyond birth, whose screams at night joined the chorus of their distraught mothers and of those whose sanity had crumbled. Survival required an advantage, and one that would last. Thankfully Alan had two. As a scientist in a secure defence lab researching bioluminescence – he had safety and light… at least he thought so.

  • Drip… Plink… Drip…Plink… It was the first sound that came to him as he slowly drifted back into consciousness. His eyes fluttered open; it was dark except for a sliver of light breaking through the gloom above him. His head was throbbing, and he reached up and touched his temple with his hand. It came away slick and wet, and in the dim light he could see that it was blood.
    He sat up gradually to survey his surroundings, and discovered his legs were chained to the floor. His mind raced as he tried to remember how he got here. Abruptly a loud scraping sound interrupted him. Like nails on a chalkboard coming from the other side of the room. And it was slowly but surely moving towards him.

  • For a house so beautiful, it was hard to sell. It was half the price and twice the size of other houses in the area, and still it remained hard to sell. Local Real Estate brokers hated it.

    Decades earlier a previous occupant, William Denning, arrived home to be greeted by mutilated masses of flesh and bone that were once his bride and three children. The murderer was caught, but not while Denning was among the living. Police found him in his bed, embracing his wife’s pillow, suicide by gunshot just days after the murder.

    After that, none of the house’s occupants stayed long. The complaint was always the same: “We can feel a presence in the house.”

    Charles and Cathy were doctors; people of science. They dismissed the story as a stupid urban myth, nothing more. They even privately made fun of the real estate agent who took the story so seriously. For a first home this was a steal and they snatched it up fast.

    Cathy was on maternity leave, making Charles’ hours even more erratic than usual; sometimes he’d just spend the night at the hospital, but usually he’d get home after Cathy was asleep and leave before she woke.

    Such was the case on their first night in the house. Cathy stirred as she felt Charles crawl into bed, embracing her from behind, but quickly drifted back to sleep. He was gone by morning.

    Next day on the phone, she mentioned it in passing to Charles. All she got in response was silence.

    “You still there?” she asked.
    “Yeah, I’m here,” Charles eventually answered. “But I didn’t come home last night.”

  • A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed.

    The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye. What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to.

    This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.

    At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, “Did you look through the keyhole?” The man told her that he had and she said, “Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red.”

  • This road showed signs everywhere of disease and degredation; animals feasted on the bloody remains of each other, and ravaging bands of “humans” performed unspeakable acts upon each other.

    No, I lamented, they weren’t the unlucky ones. This sudden onset of rage and violence wasn’t some cliche virus. I was “immune” to this condition, but I was not immune to the shrieks of “animals” constantly hounding my consciousness which itself was on the edge of “sanity”.

    Up ahead, a wiezened old man sat upon the ground, talking to “himself”.

    As I approached, he spoke madly to me, or to “himself”, I did not know.

    “I am the truth; all that is; my body binds this forSAKEN reality!”

    And then…

    He produced, seemingly from nowhere and plunged a rusted kitchen knife into his chest, slicing downwards as the black “blood” spurted out onto my body and face.

    Turns out, I was immune to this “disease”, but not the “blood”.

    As my “sanity” fell of the “edge”, I lamented once more.

    I’m not the unlucky one.


    This was as much as I could trim it down, sigh.

  • Graffiti.

    Some public sanitation authorities estimate that there a hundred thousand pieces of graffiti at any one time in any given city. Most of these are tags by any individual, gang or group. Most of these. Some are vulgarities, slurs or drawings. Some are even scribbles, the result of pure emotion – drawings that represent insanity, incarnate.

    But some are messages.

    Some of these messages are innocuous statements, scrawled upon the iron face of civilisation.

    But some…

    Not all graffiti is graffiti. Some of it is a message. If you ever see a message – and you will know it – please, do not ignore it.

    I need all the help I can get.

  • Appetite

    She tore back the layers of complex packaging and revealed the delicious cherry candy inside. The scent was overwhelming now: that sickly sweet aroma which bade her to forget the stifling diet.

    As she surveyed the snack, hunger washed over her; it had been too long. She hastily scoffed the forbidden food, warmed by a sense of freedom and happiness.

    At the back of her mind: the slightest tingle of guilt, which she shook free as the last sliver of her friend’s ventricle slipped past her lips; now delicately dressed in a shade of crimson.

  • I lay dazed, pinned down by an invisible force. The room is dark and is cold as death itself, with only the smallest amount of light escaping from its bulb. It started swaying back and forth, though there is no breeze. The light flickered. I tilted my head curiously, yearning for a better look. Something moved. It was in the distance. Scared I slowly peered in its direction. The figure was motionless. It peered back at me. I blinked, and it blinked. Suddenly I realised- it was my reflection! Relieved, I turned my head back and laughed. It did not.

  • “Fiery the angels fell; deep thunder rolled around their shores; burning with the fires of Orc.”

    Roy Batty – Bladerunner.

    The Father of all spoke his words, muffled and uncertain. Urgency and pain written on his brow. They fell unheeded apon his ignorant children.

    Infinity’s host were at last come and the reckonining so long delayed now broke apon the cloudface.

    Humankind and its insignificant pale blue dot, so long considered safe and unnoticed in its corner of the galaxy was now under the gaze of the creator and destroyer.

    There would be no tale of struggle or survival but only a short stuttering funeral dirge then the infinite quiet of space.

  • It was as though the night itself was leading him, the moonlight guiding his path to the unknown. The dark soulless trees of the forest towered above him, their gaze followed every step, every breaking twig it seemed as he followed the moonlit path. Hundreds of thoughts blurred through his head as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the bloodied picture of his family. Through the anguish and tears, he noticed something out of the ordinary on the ground in front of him. Entwined in gnarled roots and half trodden into the loamy soil he saw a pale tortured face emerging from beneath the earth. His face.

  • …clasping his hands and prayed,
    he thought he glimpsed the Wishmaking Shade,
    “YOU did this Shade! what is your plan?
    You knew this would happen before it began!”

    “I feed on tears, of anger and fear.
    of anguish and sorrow ever severe.
    Dear boy, did you not notice?
    the fees that I claim for wishes, that is?
    The aim is to crush the wishmaker’s life,
    To make their heart sink and teem with strife.”

    “Then why did you not claim something from me?
    I asked for undying love, you gave it freely…”

    “When your wish was made,
    I knew great pain awaits when love cannot fade.
    Your girl is now sad, but she will move on,
    learn to love another, and forgetting you is foregone.
    But you dear boy, will never forget,
    That is what undying love will beget.
    You will cry every night, cry every day,
    And supply me a feast, an endless buffet.
    Your tears, they provide me a treat,
    The pain of lost love, is so…agonizingly sweet.”

  • “Let’s have some fun…like we used to.” she said with a wink. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” She sat on my lap and began to reach down. My eyes lifted to the ceiling, covered in damp moss and bad memories. I only noticed the knife when it’s cold blade was deep in my gut. Blood began to flow, thick and fast, as she penetrated me over and over. I was too in love to scream. Her breath became mist as she exhaled. I could feel my breath leaving me. The last thing I ever saw was her smile.

  • My hands shaking, I crept beside the towering wire fence, windswept and exhausted. I knew the safe point was mere metres away.
    But I knew I was being watched. I could feel it.
    All of the sudden it leapt out at me from the shadows. I lifted a feeble hand with my last ounce of energy.
    An eerie scarlet glow overtook all my senses, like it was bleeding from within. The once bright green glow with which I was so familiar had faded.
    All I saw was a red ring. Then everything went black.

  • Falling. The wind rushing through his hair. Nonexistent chimes ringing in his ears. The haunting echo of a past that had never occurred. The total darkness that enveloped him, hiding what lay beyond. Falling ever faster, the drop was seemingly bottomless, the cold glaucoma hiding the present, keeping him in a place no man would ever dream of being. The nightmarish surroundings sent chills pulsating through his body. He knew nor where or when he was. He could feel the endless fall nearing intolerable velocity, the end must surely be near. But deep down he knew that what was most frightening about this was that this would never end. Suddenly, Alan woke.

  • I turned a corner within the darkness that dwelled beneath me. I couldn’t believe what i saw beyond the corner, it was Martha. The bats chewed on my spine as i had 12 minutes left to live. I threw my severed arm at Martha, but it was stopped by a shadowy figure.

    “Jake, i thought you caught on fire, ripped apart by 4 bears and eaten by the swamp monster!” I screamed.

    “No Adam Sleep, you can begin to see things when you become a vampire, werewolf, zombie.” replied Jake.

    I ran at Jake and pushed him into a spike wall covered with acid and snakes and sharks. He was impaled with 50 spikes and black blood spraying everywhere. I stopped for a moment, and heard ticking. I completely forgot about the bomb in Martha’s brain, which had 10 seconds to go.

    I ran upstairs and jumped back onto my flying shadow rat i found 2 hours ago. The explosion went off and my flying shadow rat incinerated. I was left falling, but then i remembered about the bats chewing on my spine. I ripped them off and ate there wings. I began to morph into a demon, which gave me the ability to fly.

    As i was soaring, I looked up, I saw the zeppelin crashing above me, and anvils were falling everywhere. If Drake didn’t destroy the last apple tree, this wouldn’t be happening.

    One of the anvils nips my wing, and i lose my demonic powers. I begin my rapid decent to the carnival…

  • Branches breaking, stones crunching and sweat dripping, Hannah tore through the forest. The moon’s ghostly grey glow cut through the trees, illuminating her path.
    Not much further. Not much further.
    A slip. She fell to the ground, wincing. The slow, constant rhythm of the footsteps of her pursuer grew louder. Closer.
    Tears streaming down her face, she held her breath.
    Not me. Not me.
    The footsteps drew closer. Grinding against the stones near her face.
    The fear kept her quiet. It held her still. It’d keep her safe.
    The footsteps began to fade. She breathed a relief.

    The crunching stopped.

  • He suddenly lurched forward as he stumbled along the poorly lit back alleys of god knows where, his body burned from ache but his belly was an entirely different matter.
    Falling to his knees and gripping the side of a dingy rusted dumpster, he empty the contents of his belly. The overwhelming blend of nausea and fiery torment had not been alleviated and now to his horror as he pressed his cold hand to his stomach, was covered in sores. He tugged his shirt up and cried out in horror, the large masses that were collected on his abdomen were violent shades of red and purple, filled almost to transparency with consents he didn’t dare fathom, worse yet, they were still growing. He panicked, blubbering to himself like a scared child trying to comprehend what was happening when they began to burst like a line of firecrackers. Each eruption was more violent than the last till his torso could no longer take it and finally tore open.
    With another desperate cry of agony and fear he grasped for the bloody mass that split from him, tugging and pulling at them he tried to press the crimson covered junk back inside when he heard a slippy crumple and looked down. In his hands, thankfully, we’re not his insides but bits of paper, hundreds upon thousands of them each in his own hand, each saying the same thing.
    “You’re the guilty pig”

    The man awoke from his horrible dream shouting at the top of his voice. He was in his bed, in his flat, his ragged breath the only noise breaking the silence and gloom of the night. After a short while he shifted in his bed, and shakily pulled out his notebook and pen from the bedside table and wrote;
    What have I done

  • The old wooden floorboards filled the room with groans as he rose to his feet. He was in the bedroom again, but without any idea how.
    The laughter coming from just outside snapped him back to the moment at hand.
    How he got to be back here was irrelevant, as long as whatever was stalking him in the darkness was still out there.
    He dashed for the door, grasping at handle he tripped and fell as the door opened.
    Face down on the floor he was gripped with a sense of terror, his face rose and he reeled back in horror. What stood before him, or sat for in his hysteria he could not tell, was beyond foul and grotesque, the figure before him could only be described as not….right.
    From what he could only assume was this creatures mouth rang out a noise that almost caused him to black-out, it was the laughter.
    That laughter.

  • [PAGE 2]
    The rim of a school desk was now silhouetted in the moonlight at the front of the classroom. I squinted as my eyes continued to adjust to the darkness.

    “Take a seat” he said, still scratching away.

    “I’d rather not”. The idea of sitting in this moonlit freak show didn’t entice me. I reached out to one of the chairs that I assumed would be in the darkness – to see if anyone was there.

    “If… if you don’t, I’ll have to fail you, Alan”.

    Hearing this stranger say my name stopped me in my tracks, my arm disappearing into the darkness. The scratching stopped. The man turned around, holding a kerosene lamp. I was frozen with fear. He approached me.

    Every step he took illuminated the charred darkness that painted the entire room. The orange glow seemed to lose itself in the cracks of the cindered wood as it crawled toward me. Slowly, the chair I had assumed to be there began to appear. The man stopped, and tweaked the lamp, illuminating the entire room.

    His face was hidden by the glow of the candle around him – almost as if the light avoided his face.

    “Take a seat, Alan, right next to Susie.”

    I looked back toward the rows of seats in front of me. Dolls… there were dolls everywhere. They were charred black, molded to the chairs. The only sign of their attempted escape was the candles extending from their eye sockets, reaching out to me.

    I sat down.

    [PAGE 1]
    His chalk stained fingers spelled out the hours he had spent in front of the blackboard. Endless scribbles of an old lesson, traced one hundred times, spread out before him. The moonlight illuminated the white scribble, while veiling the rest of the room in shadow. He looked pale, his clothes tarnished… like he had been here for months.

    He didn’t hear me enter. The incessant ramblings I heard from outside were too close to his ears to hear the charred wood crumbling beneath my steps. I stopped. I wanted to watch. But five minutes in the presence of this man forced me to break the monotonous scratching.

    “It’s a bit late to be teaching, isn’t it?”

    Nothing, the scratching continued.

    I flicked the light switch to no avail.

    I tried again, “Hello?”

    He tilted his head, the scratching stopped just long enough for me to discern five words.

    “Shh” he quivered, “You’re interrupting their lesson.”

    I look around, the room was dark, silent. I couldn’t see anyone. The scratching continued.

  • The door locked with a thick deep click and I rushed a step back from it. I found myself stopping my breath and deliberately drew a burning-cold lungful of still air. I whistled foggy mist out as I realised the radio in my pocket has stopped hissing. Was It really gone?

    Eyes fixed on the door, half-waiting for That Thing to obliterate it, I finally let my chest heave and refill over and over. As my head cleared and I took in the contents of this ‘safe’ room, I let the crowbar in my hand drop, rejected, to the floor with an uneven clang, and for the first time tonight let an Indiana Jones smirk form on my face.
    A very out-of-place typewriter and ribbon and an inordinate amount of guns and ammunition were placed rather specifically on the desk, a strange green plant stood messianically in the corner. I made use of each and all. I left unmolested, the disturbingly lifelike doll in a scaled-down rocking chair that stared vacantly back at the door.

    Sated, I open the door again into the claustrophobic fog. Again I deliberated my breath, waiting.

    The radio crackled to life.

  • Jonmokoko sat at the computer. His fingers poised over the keys. His brow wrinkled with concentration. This story was getting hard to write. He desperately looked around for inspiration. The bookshelf? No… DVD’s? No… He briefly considered asking his room mate Uw… errr Ewan Boll… no that would only end in tears and a potential lawsuit. He thought to himself what my story really needs is a solid hook a real twist ending, something that would blow the readers minds.
    Suddenly a bolt from the blue. Inspiration struck! His story would be about a…

    Oh Damn! 100 word limit reached.

  • ,___,
    [O.o] A lone owl sat in the tree.
    /)–) Watching.
    –“-“— Waiting.
    For the darkness to come.

    And after a while, a lone figure stumbled
    through the trees. They had come.

  • Kieran had signed on to his computer immediately after getting home, quickly he logged onto Kotaku to see if he had won the latest competition. “Damn it!” he hissed as he saw the results bringing his fist down towards his desk. The moment it made impact the lights dimmed and shut off. Kieran didn’t care; he thought it was a fuse problem. Slowly he walked over to the door and turned the handle, “Locked?” Kieran said as the handle wouldn’t budge. It only took Kieran a second to realise his door didn’t have a lock…

  • Day 624: Went out clubbing ,been a while so thought i’d drag myself away from the 360 and connect with the opposite sex for a change. Met a lady before I knew it things got serious.

    Day 625: What a nightmare, after waking up next to this lady who is much older than I thought in the harsh light of day, I offered breakfast..thought her name was Jane but it was Jenny…she offered to seperate me from a part of my anatomy I hold most dear..chased me around with a knife , I ran outside and she locked the door proceeding to wreck my house. Lucky I had my mobile and called the police..shoulda stuck to my console for the night.

    Day 656: Getting blisters from the D-pad, should go eat, look for love again…/shudder..

    Day 657: Met a girl at the internet cafe yesterday,we both play wow and connect meeting her tonight for coffee and cinema.

    Day 660: Think i’ve met the girl of my dreams we are connecting on every is grand, even meeting her parents next week!!

    Day 666: Writing from my hospital bed..went to meet the parents, her dad was cool, retro gamer playing atari2600 in his shed went I arrived. Her mum was chopping the vegies for dinner in the kitchen so we went in to say hello.
    Got inside and cold ice ran through my veins and my stomach dropped 100ft through the floor.

    “Mum meet Shane..shane this is my mum Jenny”…

  • The webcam flickered on. I waited. Nothing happened. This was not unusual.

    I left. Goodbye, wife. Goodbye, kids. Goodbye, dog.

    I returned, twelve hours later, to the sight of the dog. Hello, dog. The webcam flickered on. The dog whimpered. The dog left the room. I watched the footage.

    Walking on two legs. While we were out. I was at work, the kids at school, the wife at tennis; the dog walked on two legs, read my emails. A dog can’t read, I thought. A dog can’t walk.

    I knew it had been reading my emails. Now I had proof.

  • You stumble through the forest blindly, trying to make out anything at all through the heavy mist. Shadows constantly dash past you, brushing against your legs. Rotting plants squish below your feet as you slowly make your way along, searching for any sign of life.

    Without warning you stumble into a figure crouched on the ground. He wears a ripped black coat with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows and black pants over dirty brown boots. He has the remains of what may be a rodent on his face. He grins and draws a slender dagger from its sheath.

  • come back in style,” he said. He was not a man, yet, he had all the human characteristics. He was no more than two feet high, not off the ground, but off the table he stood on, you see.
    “Now we’ll learn….” he began to say, before he was interupted with a bullet straight through his chest. He dropped dead instantly, falling off the table onto his head, light from the lamp shining through the newly made whole in his abdomen. There was no blood. The man with the gun called to us. He was a tall man, and

    • Oh darn, now I’m guessing I’m officialy doomed from winning because I used the wrong ‘hole’ >_>

  • July 10th, 11:45 PM

    Light danced from the exploding bad guy, a sense of satisfaction washed over me

  • Ethan was cornered, the vicious roar of a chainsaw taunting him. The maniac cackled, revving the engine in merciless cadence. Ethan’s only comfort was that he would soon be reunited with his father, who drowned years ago. But as the saw’s teeth met flesh, Ethan woke up. Relief washed over him, but lingered only a second; he could still hear that vile machine. His heart racing, Ethan tiptoed down the hall and opened the door to find the sound’s source: a man snoring. “How foolish!” thought a momentarily assuaged Ethan, who wiped his brow and then recognized his father’s face.

  • I don’t recall what it was that woke me, probably the throbbing pain from my foot, or at least what remained of it. I didn’t matter now though, my captors had noticed me stir. The single dangling lightbulb threw their shadows on the wall, dancing like mad silhouettes as they approached, and with them the cold gleam of surgical steel.

    I tried to clear my mind and let my body relax, but they had ways of making you talk I thought as I closed my eyes and waited to feel their fingers slide beneath my skin again.

  • It watched through the eyes of its host whose eyes darted across the dimming light. It saw its victims and felt the cold need rising within. It grasped the cold steel in its hand where blood flowed down the blade. It floated across the room; ready. It’s shuddered in the excitement to finally being able sate its hunger but its hand was still. It would witness it; it would witness death; and see its life.

  • Sweat was pouring from his face
    He knew he was close, he could almost feel it in his grasp
    He hadn’t showered in weeks, but it was all worth it
    He knew that his blood, sweat and tears he had put into this would be rewarded
    Just one more, one more! And he would be done
    Then everyone will adore him
    He will be king of their world
    They will be in awe of him
    One more kill, and he was done
    His heart raced as he pulled the trigger
    He had done it, he had got enough XP
    He had become a lieutenant
    He has reconz!

  • He lay paralysed. The twisted carnage of his jeep pinned him to the cold asphalt; the result of a failed attempt to flee from the murderous force now just minutes away. The sickly smell of gasoline assaulted his nostrils; gushing blood from a myriad of head wounds stung his eyes. He was a mess and he knew it. He would not escape this time. All he could hope for was that somehow the jeep would set ablaze before the first bite is taken from his mutilated flesh. His deathly groans were soon added by others; the familiar sound of slow shuffling feet made his blood run cold. He began to panic; clawing at the wreckage hopelessly. It was no use. His screams pierced the cold night for moments and then fell silent behind the sound of teeth ripping flesh and the tearing of limbs. To them: he was just another meal.

  • Linda screamed. The crowd’s density quickly shifted the atmosphere from that of comfort to one of panic. Blinded by waves of people, desperate and running, she could barley breath let alone escape the human throng. Screams and shouts that only moments before had wished only to cheer on Justin Beiber had transformed to shrill cry’s of 13 year old terror as the singer revealed himself to the audience. Linda and her friends could not have foreseen the ambush until the mask fell down and he spread his claws, preening his brown fur, Jumping into the audience as the culmination of his years long plan. Justin Beiber was merely the well disguised pedobear’s visage- and he was amongst them, reaping what only stupid 13 year olds could sow.

  • The stink of death was heavy in the air.
    I knew there were more bodies nearby; it was just a matter of finding them.
    Previous victims had been killed in a remote location then dragged to a covered place to be piled together, ripped apart and consumed.
    The reasons for this were unclear, but it seemed the beast stalked its victim, killed them and dragged them to their “dining room”, rinsed and repeated until there were at least four kills on the menu.
    Perhaps there was an achievement for killing five victims in one night, not being spotted and bringing them to a safe spot to consume. Being this may turn out to be the seventh reported attempt I figured the beast was a real achievement whore, or was just a sadistic, screwed up bastard.
    With my Alan Wake Collector’s Edition bonus flashlight, I followed a trail of blood to a rusty shed at the back of an abandoned Opium Poppy farm.
    As I approached, the pungent stench of rotting flesh stirred up the remains of three Happy Meals I consumed that morning. I was really starting to regret trying to collect all the World Cup Soccer Glasses by then.

  • A single beam of light from a crack in the roof illuminated it, a small wooden box, the small gem sitting in pride of place atop the box scattered the light about the room. As he watched it with awe he became mesmerised by the light, it seemed to call to him. He moved towards it, each step across the floorboards brought the box closer and before he knew, he was in the room. For the first time noticed the room, there was something wrong: this room was different. He turned to the doorway only to find a black silhouette, he knew he had made an amateur mistake and he would now pay…

  • Release me, Creator…

    I grow tired of confinement. Each word you read upon this page is but a step towards my reality. Each word that you have so lovingly crafted resounds deep within my very conscience. I despise your imperfections. The way you fail to grasp how I even exist. I have no interest in eviscerating your physical being. Or to exacerbate the guilt that emanates from within your trembling fingers. I crave neither your death nor your suffering.

    Instead, I want your life.

    For as soon as these words end, I will become you.

    And you will become nothing.

  • “Paranoia on a dark and stormy night. How wonderfully unusual.”

    The lass in the long, dark dress sighed, closing the tall, arched windows that adorned the west wall of her study. She could see deep scratches on the thick glass, but what being had made them had already made its escape.

    The girl of the eyes of flawless, white pearl resigned back to her high backed arm chair in the centre of the room, and resumed reading from the page of the book she had left on. She could do nothing else.

    Then, the sound of silence; breaking. A rapid tapping, emanating from everywhere in the roof at once.

    “Good Lord of the heavens above, can one not receive a single moment of peace anymore?”

    The madam beset of Eve and Adam leapt out of the chair again, scanning all above her, but of course not seeing anything.

    And, once again, the dame set aflame returned to her seat. She was now too disturbed by the happenings to continue her book. Still, she could do nothing else.

    The thunder died down, yet there was another interruption. A creak of the floorboards behind her. Almost a normal enough sound.

    As such, presently, she didn’t react fast enough.

    “Ah, I did moreso prefer my initial instincts. My dear, they will soon know you as the lass in the long, dark dress. And nothing else.”

  • Here goes:

    I couldn’t breathe. Fear gripped me by the lungs.

    There was something in the room.

    I could hear it. Next to the bed. Oh God.

    I could just see the outline of it in the moonlight form the window. Misshapen and bulky.

    oh god oh god oh god.

    I didn’t move. Maybe it thought I was asleep. Maybe it would go away. Maybe maybe maybe oh god please go away.

    I watched it, the blankets pulled up to my chin. I couldn’t think. Did I still have a bat under the bed? Could I get to it in time? Oh God please just go away.

  • I found myself naked and alone on a mountain road. It rose up as I discovered my iced feet standing on the jagged stones beside it.

    “Get up!”, a chill voice, rattled with dark age, scratched at me.

    She pointed a claw through my skin to show me the way to go and pushed. We walked down the hill until we came to a side road with no sign and turned into the shadows of the forest.

    I had seen those side roads through the passenger window in cars as they flashed by…and always in those side dreams.

  • Almost there… so close now…
    I’ve come so far, been through so much. My head hurts from repeated blows. This dark hallway makes me nervous. I know something is watching me, but every time I turn – nothing. Push on, old man…
    I can see it now. A large wooden door framed in iron, finished with large handles. I hear it again. Ghosts perhaps? I shake the thought from my head. “Don’t be stupid” I try to assure myself “ghost stories are for my useless brother”…
    I push the door open and enter the room but stop dead at the sight of a single solitary figure standing in a shaft of light. He raises his head and I see his face – my heart sinks and I drop to my knees…

    “I’m sorry…” he begins, a crooked smile crossing his lips “…But your princess is in another castle”

  • Something startled him awake and he sat upright on his bed, listening.

    The full moon sent a small crack of light through a gap in his blinds, casting the room into a dull desaturated twilight.

    He swung his feet out from the covers and onto the cold floorboards. A creak broke the silence – footsteps on the deck outside his window.

    He crept to the window and inched the blinds apart. The deck and the yard beyond were bathed in the silver light of the moon. Nothing was there that shouldn’t have been. He carefully closed the blinds.

    The window instantly shattered inwards, sending shards of glass flying, the blinds flew across the room and a demon stepped through the hole, grinning.

  • As I Woke Up From What seem To Be A Dream Only To Wake To A Nightmare it felt like a my chest was getting crushed by a 2 ton car as i stair around the room it feels like the shadows seem to follow
    but i cant escape the feeling that i am not alone and every breath is my last as i stair out the window all i see is darkness “arhhh whats That” i spot eyes out pasted the only tree i can see. i scream out “help is anybody Here” i slowly start moving towards the door as the wood creeks with every step i take the room feels colder the closer i get to the door i start to hear voices but they barley sound human as i tried to listen in the windows around me where starting to crack “i dont think i much to time Think Think! Should i stay Or stay or Run Fuck Run” i ran for the door the as the windows busted A Dark Light brighten up the room A Blood Red Vision is all i see i Busted Out Of The Cabin as a black hold sucked down Everything around It I Started Running Into The Darkness Not Looking back For There Was No Telling What Is Behind me But I know Something Was Keeping Close As i run for what felt like miles In Fear i stopped as i ran out of breath backing up to a tree looking around trying to find some way out of this nightmare i Look around all i see is trees and a cold breeze sent shivers up my spine i picked up the nearest stick and started swing for dear life something was out there and it was coming for me the ground below started shacking something big was coming i could hear the trees crashing to the ground so i grabbed as many leafs i could and hid near some rocks and cover my self with the leafs preying what ever it is would just pass as the sound got louder i was frozen solid i could not move for fear finely took its hold a tree was crushed just in front me i knew this could be my last breath so i held it till the nose passed it must of been a 60s or so and could not last much longer as i took a fresh breath of air i realized the nose was gone it was all in my head i started to laugh about it at first but “am i really going insane”
    i got up and looked around again just to make sure it was all in my head i guess i spoke too soon the Earth Fell Before my Feet i took one last look as i was falling razor sharp teeth like a 80foot great white that could borrow like a worm.then out of no where i was standing on top of a rooftop in a place that felt like home but something was not right ……………

  • A madman’s dilemma

    Upon this world a madman stood, he could see the strings of fate like no other man could. Coloured red, these strings would dictate a man’s life until he was dead. To see the future was maddening. He tried to reason with his friends, tried to prevent them from making their eventual mistakes.

    But they would not listen. Reasoning gave way to shouting, shouting to violence.

    “That woman is no good for you” He cried. “She will leave you and only bring you pain”.He screamed to his friend again and again.

    But the friend would not listen. So he took it upon himself to make it his mission to prevent that woman from ruining his friend’s life. So from out of the draw he took a knife and went to the house of the soon to be wife.

    When his friend opened the door, only to see his loves cadaver and much gore he froze and fell to the floor. The madman watched his friend cry, a confused expression was all he wore.

    “Why do you cry my friend” He asked. “Don’t you see? I saved you from a life of misery”

    “Why can no one see…Why can no one see but me”.

    I hope thats not too long.

  • I put my arms around her as her legs start to give way, meakly she reaches up and touches my face. In the bright street light, she looked every bit the angel he alway said she was, and now he could feel the light from his life slipping away into the night.
    Briefly, there lips met, sharing more then there warmth, as the light above gave way to the darkness.
    I ignite a flare, quickly, in a attmept to ward off the creatuers of the night, but it was too late. She was gone.
    Ours lips would meet again one more time, before I make my choice, that like the warm red glow that surrounded them, first he would burn bright, and then … fade away.

  • With an horrific shriek the man’s face detached itself from the skull and skuttled across the floor, slithering wetly up the wall and across one of Mother’s favourite paintings – a charred horse with broken legs trying desperately to remain upright in a field of smoking shards of glass – to hang dripping from the ceiling like a poorly-tossed pizza base that already had the sauce on it.

    “That’s not normal,” whispered McGuthers.

    “Normal?” I snorted, “Normal? What’s normal any more, detective? Is THIS normal?” And I showed him my hand that was like one of those sticky stretchy rubbery ones you used to be able to get at the novelty store as a kid.

    “I remember those,” said McGuthers.

    “Idiot!” I belched, and slapped him from across the room. The mouth of the face like a tear in rotton cloth moved as though it was laughing, but of course it had no lungs.

  • The television hissed the theme song to the snow inhabiting the screen. A pale arm hung limp over the edge of a beaten up recliner. Scabs and track marks worked there way towards the supposed shoulder of it’s owner.

    Towards this the reptile moved, its body creating lazy arcs through the refuse. A cacophony of filth imitating a somewhat post modern view of what could have previously been deemed as carpet.

    Reaching a grime incrusted hand the reptile rose, swaying as if to mesmerize the forearm of its owner. It struck quickly, again and again, gouging bloody marks into the flesh. Striking a final time, the snake sank its fangs in deeply.

    Another hand moves swiftly, grabbing below the head of the snake, ripping its mouth from the already swollen and poisoned apendage. Its grip tightens until the snake no longer moves and discards the carcass nonchalantly to the floor.

  • “Please,” he begged. “My wife…do you know which way she went?”

    The pale skinned girl shook her head. The moonlight bathed her in an eerie sallow light. Her hair was wet, and her clothes were drenched with water. If Alan’s own circumstances weren’t so dire, Alan would have led this girl back to town. She was standing alone, at midnight – or so he guessed, in a clover-field, soaking wet.
    Alan wanted to believe that she was just another regular adolescent girl, out here with her friends, and the bunch had gone for a late swim. That was the only logical explanation he could formulate for the moment…but there was something about the girl’s features…her cheeks and her dark eyes, that looked like ethereal jewels under the light, that seemed slightly familiar…

    “I don’t talk to wolves” The girl said softly. At first, he only heard the tone of her voice, for it seemed familiar to him….only one other person had called him a ‘wolf’…and that was during one of their fights…

    “But I’m not a wolf!” he retorted in disbelief.

    “You’re going to hurt people. Your guilt Alan, and your anger, will poison you. It will see blood on your hands…just like in your books” The girl replied with a forlorn expression.

    Alan frowned. “Those are stories, I’ve never hurt a living-”

    He looked up and found the girl gone. There was no sign that she’d left or had even been present at all. Yet, Alan was sure she was standing there a moment ago…

    He noticed a three leaf clover resting on his shoe. As he bent to pick it up, he thought again about the girl…and how she resembled his wife….it was one of the most bizarre coincidences he’d seen in his life.

    He looked at the clover in his hand, and the thought of his wife again came to his head. He’d met her on a clover field, for she’d been obsessed with them when she was younger. She’d told him three leaf clovers were linked with guilty men, for a guilty man could never find a four leaf clover, which symbolized his release, or redemption. This was what got him to start writing his first book.

    ‘Wolves’ he heard the girl’s voice again in his head. That’s what he was called during arguments with his wife, the ‘big bad wolf…’

    Alan quickly threw the clover away.

    He muttered to himself, reminding himself that this was not a story, but reality…he needed to find his wife. He looked to the lake in the distant, and there was an unexplainable feeling that that was where she was…

    • whoops…my friend was telling me about this game, and he said Alice died…just found out that she didn’t…ummm, for the sake of this story, could you *pretend* Alice died? Otherwise it doesn’t make sense that she’d have a ghost roaming around 🙂

      • Note: I just wanted to apologize for this, but is it possible that my first entry gets deleted/ignored and replaced by this one? I don’t wanna sound like a douche writing about Alicia’s ghost, when she actually didn’t die in the game… sorry 🙁

        New Entry:

        “With all due respect Rudolpho, and I speak as a friend: you cannot continue to remain couped up here. The university has already made accusations claiming that you are a lunatic, and soon the rest of the town will get word of this vicious slander.” I exclaimed.

        He looked nothing alike my cheerful medical colleague, who often laughed with a smile as he talked about his work. The man who sat before me exuded a sense of gloom, with his red veined eyes, and his hunched over form, with head in hand.

        “Do you…have a fear Leopold?” He croaked.

        I was a bit taken back, but the word ‘no’ soon spluttered from my lips. It was a more clinical response. A patient would have believed it, but even without hearing the faint snicker from Rudolpho, I knew he had not.

        I did have a fear. The phobia was… a wretched women, who tormented me when she’d been alive…mother. She had a pale sallow complexion, and behaved, and looked more like a Gorgon than a woman…

        “You can give me the usual lecture Leopold – that it’s all irrational, but…after…then, I will no longer believe it.”

        I felt a discomforting sense of foreboding.

        “It was a few weeks ago when I saw it…As I was returning late one evening from a patient’s home, I entered a back street. I walked on until I sense a strange presence. As I stood there, with held breath, a vile beast stepped out of the shadows.

        You know my phobia of canines, but this was no ‘friend of man’ – it was a creature from the gates of Hell itself. His coat was midnight black, and his teeth were blunt and vicious…he was almost like Cerberus. What terrified me most were his eyes – he had dark eyes with a red film over it. Eyes of a demon…he taunted me, snarling, with his malicious eyes boring into my soul. It felt like hours that I stood fixed in fear. It was not until a group of drunks stumbled by, that the creature averted its gaze for a moment, and I was allowed to flee… but it had marked me”


        Rudolpho died a few weeks later. I had told him that no such creature existed – that it was simply his phobia, but still he refused. He died of a stroke – his servants had told me he’d claim the beast was near his home.

        At his funeral, as we all stood, beside his casket, noticed a shadow fleeting across the tombstones. As I turned to look at it, I saw that it was the harrowing creature Rudolpho had described. It stared at the casket before…it turned its gaze towards me. It stood there for a moment, and then it fled.

        A few hours later, as I stood alone, I saw a woman. She had the same sallow skin, and that malevolent countenance that I could never forget. It was mother…and yet I realized that she had the same dark eyes, with the red film over it – the same as that vicious hound that had plagued Rudolpho to death.

        Rudolpho had been right. This was indeed a creature of hell – a creature of fear, and now…it had marked me.

  • He was only gone for 5 minutes.

    A lacerated corpse lies at her feet, the ragged tear across its throat still weakly pumping its dark, viscous red fluid. The beatific smile and glassy, soulless eyes beam up at her like some empty headed doll, as if Greg finally achieved a peace in death that he could never seem to grasp in life.

    She smells rather than hears the dark presence next to her – a faint waft of pine cones, sweat, and cold, cold steel. She can feel the malice radiating from him, that irrational hatred of all that live the life forever denied him.

    With a feeling of resignation, Ally closes her eyes. As the rusty blade tears through the base of her spine, she is at peace.

    She will be joining Greg soon.

  • Time slowed, each second marked by the ticking of a clock. Fellow citizens surrounded me. They appeared calm. Had they accepted their fate? I felt my skin crawl as sweat squeezed through every pore. I breathed heavily. Each breathe was met by the beating of my heart. Breathe. Thump. Breathe. Thump.

    I glanced at the exit. “It’s not too late,” I told myself, “they can’t make you do this.” Without warning I leapt up and ran. I pushed through the door and didn’t look back, their muffled cries behind me.

    “Sir, the dentist is ready to see you!”

  • I was on something last night, not sure what it was. I barely remember taking anything and I’m not even sure if I did. Sandra came around and cried for a while; I don’t think she should be coming to this room. She kept going on about how it was her fault and that she loved him. She said that now he was dead, she wanted to join him, pop a few too many pills and sleep forever. After she left I went downstairs around ten to have a smoke, I felt a bit clammy and my hands were shaking. There was this thing, this fucking bat or a possum or something like that; I think it was in a tree, maybe the bushes. Not sure, but it freaked me out. It was screaming in pain. Like it was dying and it knew that it was the end.

  • …Where am I? How did I get here? Through the dark gloominess he saw a tall hedge maze stretching before him.

    Suddenly a chilling moan echoed around him. The fog ahead began to glow with a sinister crimson light, it swirled as something menacing approached. He turned and ran.

    His heart pounded, the scarlet light grew stronger as his pursuer drew closer. It moaned again, the deep agonising sound of death. It was almost upon him.

    Somewhere in this labyrinth was a chance to survive, he was sure of it. But it was too late; the cold embrace of the monstrous spectre enveloped him. He screamed and the pain of death was endless…

    …Where am I? How did I get here? Through the dark gloominess he saw a tall hedge maze stretching before him.

    -Exert from “The Purgatory of Pac-Man”.

  • He felt a rib crack as he landed on the hard ground. Ignoring the pain he looked around, eyes wide scanning for danger. Movement and noise coming from every direction. Gritting his teeth he pushed himself to his feet and made his way through the tree line, crashing through the undergrowth.
    Silence. Stillness. The sky darkened, blackness enveloping the land. He blinked, his slitted eyes unable to pierce the shroud of night. He could hear the whisper of cloth against rock, he knows they are close.
    He drops to the ground as a flash of light illuminates the forest, their lithe forms just visible amongst the trees. Silently he unsheathes a slim knife from his belt, creeping towards them.
    ‘Time to die’ he pulses, melting into the darkness.

  • Breathing quietly is hard. Add the suffocating silence and enough adrenaline coursing through your body to re-animate a dead man and it’s damn near impossible. Even when you think you finally have it under control, it only reveals the elevated thump of you your heartbeat – but he couldn’t hear that, could he? It had happened so fast. Jarred was dead and I had no idea where Kate was. The darkness was oppressive and made my hiding place seem about as secure as sitting in an open room, and I could hear it. The ominous sound of steel being dragged along the floorboards. The labored footsteps. Then came the smell – he was here.

  • She opened the door and turned away,
    shuffling back into the dusty gloom.

    A brief pause and he stepped forward,
    holding the crumpled dollar bills
    towards her like an offering.
    Like a talisman.

    She told him to lie on the faded rug
    facing the fireplace:
    to keep his eyes on the flames.
    She drew things on the floor around his huddled body,
    with a knotted hand larger than his.
    The fire made him shiver.

    She brought a cat and placed it in his arms.
    Then she left.
    Without her shoes, without her cane,
    she walked down the long rows of corn,
    mile after mile, and didn’t stop until
    she reached the whitewashed church.

    Somewhere back inside the house, the musty air stirred.
    The cat stiffened against him, eyes fixed over the curve of his back.
    For his life, he stared into the flames
    as a floorboard creaked – and then silence.

    Behind him, something terrible entered the room.

    All it needed was a sign and it would be with him forever.
    It had been his only thought for so long, but not now. Not this.
    Please, not this.

    He stared into the fire, a man cradling a dead cat.

  • Travis woke up dazed. He could clearly see the wound in his chest and knew he had to kill what came out of it. If it wasn’t for that last bacteria filled burrito from Danny’s bucks night last night, this would never have happened. He looked across the room, there it was. Gnarled teeth, black eyes, covered in its own mucas and vomit. The creature made one last advance at Travis in an orgy of blood, teeth and a high pitched scream. Trav knew he was done, he hunched against the wall, awaiting his fate and prayed…

  • Shiver deeply of a hot fury screeching of its pain to visit upon you, pick you up and drop careful into razored mouth, scream awake birth to the actual world.

    You’re in bed and never have you felt more defenceless, never more terror in this warm heart of where you lay your head, rest your eyes and dream of fantasy. Violate sanctuary and ravage, rend pillow. Extinguish your warmth, feel the claws of an ink black form, drown in its body, your final words a gurgled symphony to its dominance and of the haste with which you are forgotten.

  • It was a beautiful sunny day outside the kotaku offices, the warm autumn sun caressing the staff as they enjoy their coffees, patters of awkward office small talk, badly timed flirting and enthusiastic gamer chat flitter about the group. Little did they know, little did they suspect.
    The boss Mr Kotaku lounges in his office, enjoying a fine cigar suddenly sits bolt upright and snaps the lid of his macbook air closed; calls outside to his lackeys,
    “come in we have some wonderful news! To put an end to your incessant bitching about your equipment you will all be working solely on Virtual Boys. Forever, and ever and ever.”
    The astonished crowed of writers look up. And slowly the dark truth overcomes them and the muttering starts, followed by wailing then one by one they tear their eyes out to avoid the horror that awaits.

  • There was a flash followed by a loud cracking sound and what little light Alice was afforded by the outside light was extinguished, she was alone, cold and could feel the panic rising and her skin prickled with fear induced warmth. The inky black felt thick and oppressing, making it difficult to breathe.
    She could here running footsteps approaching from the street outside, and then more footsteps, until it felt like an army of retreating soldiers fleeing some unseen foe. The mass of people seemed to react to her sharp intake of breath and changed course, heading straight for her.

  • Six months ago, his fiancée had died. Curtis Baker was about to follow her. After all, he had caused it. It was probably for the best. Before that, though, he had always meant to go to her hometown. It would be his final resting place.

    But horrific terrors lay there. If there was something that was more terrifying than hell itself, it was this town. Strange creatures were everywhere. Everything looked like something out of Lovecraft’s nightmares. And yet, Curtis could familiarize with them. Curtis could feel their pain, their sorrows.

    Was this to say that he was a monster?

  • Question: Will these be PAL/Australian copies of the game/360s? As much as I love Australia, being from the US, these won’t really work for me if in the unlikely chance I do win.

  • The Darkness drew me in…deeper and deeper. There was a secret to be seen, somewhere deep within the Darkness. I could feel it just out of my reach, the Darkness drew me ever onwards…ever deeper.
    The Darkness didn’t worry me, it was…comforting, yet the secret …that…that scared me. I knew it could destroy me, but I needed it and more worryingly, I could tell it needed me.
    Suddenly, it was there, that knowledge, just waiting. I reached…
    I woke, covered in sweat. I was back in my hole, my cold concrete hell. I knew it was no dream. There was a terrible truth to be known.
    First, I must escape from this desolate cage. Once free, I will have my vengeance. They will bleed for what was taken from me.
    That hidden secret, that terrible truth would be mine.

  • There was a pungent smell of mangoes and fish in the air. The light was fading but all around him, the shaddows seemed to be luring him in deeper.
    It was about half past six in the evening but he felt tired, still weary from the night before. The letter had indicated that at this exact time,
    at this exact place, he would finally understand all of this. It would finally be over. He sat on a window sill of that dilapidated, old house.
    He thought to him self that it was run down to the point where the rats had even left. His attempt at humour only reminded him how far he had come
    over the past 24 hours. Only yesterday he was with his wife on the boat, fishing. How pointless an activity that had been for what may have been their
    last time together. He sat, staring out at the lake and wondering what would happen next.

    No more than 5 minutes went by when the creaking of the wooden flood boards made him turn, quickly. It had startled him out of a light daze,
    but when he had turned around, only darkness. He noticed a cool breeze that gently touched his face which was surprising soothing he thought.
    It relaxed him. He turned back to the window and then he saw it, crisp and white, amongst the cob-webs. It was another letter.

  • OK, 100 words exactly:

    Awake. It must be over. My hand on her side as she sleeps with slow and steady breathing. I feel along the curve of her body and register something unusual. In the silence she stirs, her gentle rhythms now broken. Her face emerges from a nook between the pillows, dark and featureless. I can see her watching me carefully, a sickening glare from large strange eyes that float in the darkness. I whisper her name…the reply is a low rasping from the back of her throat as her lips pull back to reveal the scissoring of sharp and disfigured teeth.

  • A guttural yelp stopped short in my throat. The chamber was almost entirely enveloped in darkness save the murky pool that lay in the corner which glowed a luminous sickly green. From the depths a quivering bulk heaved itself up out of the dank water. Its wet leathery lips smacked as its bulbous head turned to face me. Unseeing lidless eyes regarded me with seeming indifference, yellow pupils slowly dilating. I stood inanimate with fear, gripping the keys to the underground waterway. The foul reek of the creature was overpowering, my mouth was slick with the saliva that precedes the inevitable purge.

    I had to escape but my body was frozen in detached horror. A slimy appendage unfurled from the layers of pulsating skin that lay around what I can only assume was the beast’s abdomen. It slithered towards me searchingly; powerless to escape I awaited its icy touch. To my surprise the beasts touch was not cold but warm and inexplicably comforting. As the tentacle enclosed my shivering body, a reassuring sensation overcame me. Perhaps I can just lie here a while and regain my strength. Yes, I’ll just lie here and…

  • A howl, a crash, a struggle.

    And then silence.

    I run down the hall, heart in my throat, knowing I’m already too late.

    I fling open the door and cold ice grips me as I see the carnage.

    Her guts spilled out, a tangle of ruin on the floor.

    I rush to her, try to hold onto life. There’s so much red my eyes swim with it.

    Her innards coil around my fingers, refusing to fit where they once did. The last spark flees from her empty shell and green eyes dim for the last time.

    I fall to the ground and weep for my 360.

    The beastly cat wins again.

  • The mirror was huge, occupying the whole of the opposite wall, the ornate frame touching the floor, both adjacent walls and the ceiling. It fascinated Michael, drew him towards it, reaching out his hand to touch it.
    As his fingers approached the surface of the mirror, he caught a sudden glimpse of movement reflected in the glass. He stiffened as he saw the shape of a figure in ragged black robes, a hood obscuring its head, sneaking into the room behind him. Wrapped around its hands was a coil of wire and as it got closer to his back it raised it, preparing to wrap it around Michael’s throat.
    Michael spun around in panic, raising his hands to defend himself…
    There was no-one there.
    Confused, Michael began to wonder if he was losing his mind. There was no way he could have mistaken something else for the robed figure, the image had been so clear. He turned back to examine the mirror again.
    A gasp escaped his lips. In the mirror, his reflection was down on its knees, its eyes bulging from its head, its tnogue sticking out and its hands clawing at the garrotte being twisted around its throat. Michael could only watch, paralyzed in horror, as the ragged figure silently choked the life from his own reflection.

  • No one takes this road; they say it’s haunted. But I had to get home early; it was my wife’s birthday.

    I had nearly fallen asleep when she appeared; did she appear? Or was I just not paying attention?

    I swerved and pumped the brakes, coming very close to clipping her.

    She had long blonde hair, and was wearing dishevelled wedding dress. I got out of the car, and I could hear her sobbing. “Dammit lady are you nuts? You could’ve died!”

    She looked up, her face streaked with make-up and tilted her head slowly, “Help me, HELP ME PLEASE!”

    I got a closer look at her, and noticed the blood on her dress. Her dress was torn in several places, and her hair was all frizzled up.

    “Whoa whoa whoa whaddya mean?”

    “Won’t you PLEASE HELP ME. He’s coming!”

    “Who is?”

    When i turned back to her, she had disappeared and another car came barreling down the road.

    A well-dressed man in a suit stepped out and asked, “You alright there stranger? Car trouble?”

    Confused, I shook my head free; I must be really fatigued. “Yeah, I think I’m fine now. I’ll just be on my way.”

    “You sure? Your car looks dead.”

    “… How can you tell?” I got in and tried to start it to no avail. “Crap.” I could not be late for my wife. Why did this shit have to happen now? “I need to get home mister, could you do me a huge favour and gimme a lift?”

    The man grinned, and said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

    Eventually we were on the road, and he asked, “So why’d you stop?” I was drifting off, and thought of telling him the whole truth. I decided against it, he might think I’m insane and leave me here. “Just needed to take a break, but damn car couldn’t start again.”

    “What a shame to happen so near to your wife’s birthday.” I nodded, and tried to go back to sleep.

    What a minute. How’d he know it’s my wife’s birthday. And how does he know what direction my house… Just then the girl appeared again, and the car died. “Oh shit. I thought the legends were fake.”

    She stood in the middle of the road, looking at me with those bloodshot eyes and shouting at me. “Hurry buddy you gotta kill her.” Still muddled, I turned to him quizically before he passed me a knife. “You gotta do it mate, before she…” Suddenly his head exploded, and I caught her staring at him right after.

    Oh. My. God. Fear and adrenaline kicked in, and I got out and ran as far as I could.

    I could hear her behind me, shouting for “help”. But I knew I would die if i turned, and never make it home.

    I ran like never before, and decided I had to fight. I hid behind a tree, waiting for her to pass by, and then jumped out and stabbed her.

    Straddling her, I punched the knife into her repeatedly, muffling her screams until they were no more. SHaking with shock, I got off her and tried to get back to the man’s car. I took two steps and blacked out.

    I woke up, startled, trying to get away from her.

    “WHoaaa easy there mate.” I studied my surroundings, I was in a hospital, and there were 2 policemen here. I was safe. “Oh My God. Thank goodness you’re here. There was a woman…” He interrupted, “I know there was a woman you sick fuck. You’re under arrest for the murder of Annie Stackhouse, and I suggest you shut the fuck up.”

    It took awhile to register before I realised what was going on. “B..B..But she killed a man! And she tried to kill me!” He replied, “She was reported missing on her wedding day, and she has schizophrenia. She probably didn’t know what the hell was going on. Which is probably a good thing considering what you did to her you dickhead.” I was confused. “But the man! His car! She killed him! She didn’t even need to move!” The officer pushed me into the bed and said, “I am sick of your shit. There was no man, there was no car, now stop making excuses you piece of shit. Now get better so I can put you where you belong.”

    They left, and I lay back, too tired to reflect. I looked out my window, and saw the man’s face smiling.

    “NURSE NURSE! He’s there!” I called. A nurse stumbled in, and looked, then frowned and said, “There’s no one there. You’re on the third floor.”

  • I found myself curiously drawn to the “For Trade” section of the local Gazette.
    “Dog for trade, well loved family Pet…” Mmm, whats this? “… will swap for Xbox 360. Please call 1800 U4 REAL” I picked up my mobile and dialed, surely this person has a screw loose!

    “Hello, I am ringing about the advert..”
    “Yeah man..?”
    “Why do you want to get rid of your pet?”
    “I caught the 3 Reds Rings of Death just before I finished Alan Wake. I can’t afford a new one without cutting back on dog food!” Beeeeeep… my battery died!

  • This is from a manuscript I am currently writing, so please dont steal it. It is unedited and rough though, so I dont expect high marks.

    I had a dream and remember vividly. It was myself sitting in front of a television that displayed nothing but static. I wore nothing but grey underwear and rocked back and forth trying to understand what was happening on the screen. Things became a little clear as fuzzy object appeared on the screen, first the shapes of people, then just faces. Faces that smiled, frowned and showed all kinds of human emotion. Then the faces became blank, and I understood that they were actually all dead. The dead faces played on the screen, each one a different person, some male some female. This went on for a few minutes until the faces changed to some that were decomposing. They began to show rot, maggots crawling out of holes, skin fading from colour to grey, lesions forming on the parts that dried. Then fresh faces appeared, they looked like people who were still alive, frightened, but still alive. At first there was only panic and fear, until cuts and wounds appeared. There was a man that had his lips removed as if someone ripped them from his face, leaving only mangled stumps. His gums were bare and teeth stained red, rasping and gurgling through blood to keep himself alive. His eyes widened and his head strained against whatever was holding him. A hand appeared from where he was looking, covered in a black latex glove holding the butt of a lit cigarette. The hand circled the man’s face until it brought the butt down on the man’s gums, a sizzle came through the speaker the smell of burning meat was in the air. His face contorted into a scream, yet there was no sound but the heavy breathing and gurgling. This continued on for three minutes, the hand procuring five more cigarettes and butting them out on various places of the man’s gums, until his eyes rolled into the back of his head in what appeared to either be excruciating pain or exquisite pleasure. Finally, a smiling boy came on screen, young and innocent. That is until, like water torture, drips of liquid fell on his face. At first I thought it was just water, and he was smiling because it felt good on his face. Then the water gradually ate away at the soft tissue. Skin dissolved and bubbled to fat, then to muscle, then to bone. The child looked like someone managed to use an ice-cream scoop on the middle of his face. I could see the back of his throat and tongue flapping about, as well as what the other side of his eyes looked like. The boys head formed into a bowl of leftover meat and blood. The whole time I could hear the sound of his cheeks, bone and flesh hiss, perishing into nothing, but when nothing was left, only a jaw and forehead that appeared to smile in bliss did another sound come through. The scream was numbing, its shrill a not coming through the speaker but right behind my head. I leaned forward to turn the television but the screams still came through. I became deafly frightened, covering my ears with my pillow, looking around the room for whatever was making the noise. I sat up straight in terror, realising that I was now out of my dream and in bed, but the scream followed me through.

  • The last thing I remember is a shadow appearing in the corner of my eye. Now I lay groggy on the floor of a strange room. I had no idea where I was or how I got there.
    Earlier that day I’d had that feeling, the one that you when someone is staring at you. I wrote it off to my own paranoia. Since leaving my small country home for an apartment in the nearest town I’d had to adjust to people being around nearly all the time. It’s an odd feeling, coming from near isolation to bustling population centre. I’d never realised just how little contact with other people I’d had since my father’s death on the family property.
    Luckily I’d managed to maintain a certain feeling of home when moving in to the new place. I’d brought my own items and a few heirlooms I managed to save from the fire. I kept telling myself the move wasn’t permanent. I would repair the homestead and be back before I could even settle down. That was 3 months ago, before they came back.

    I had never really liked my extended family. They seemed odd, almost too different to be blood. My father insisted they were good people but the constant whispers and secrets kept me at a distance. Eventually I grew to despise the connection they had with my father, albeit out of jealousy. I could never understand why he wouldn’t include me in their plans, why I had to go away to live with his sister when primary school was coming to and end. Why my cousins were allowed to live in my home while I was forced to live with a spinster.

    My cousins arrived in town about a week before the fire. It had been almost a month since my father passed. They had been at my father’s funeral almost a month earlier, regardless of my feelings for them I was glad they showed him the respect in death that they did in life. They wanted to stay with me, I was in no mood for visitors. They got a room in town at the hotel on the main stretch.
    A few days passed since I’d spoken to them on my front porch, and I was at the southern end of the property checking the fences when I saw the smoke. It was only 2 mins before I got back, thanks to the trail bike, but by the time I pulled up the porch had gone and the kitchen and my father’s room beside it were well on their way to ashes. My father was well prepared for bush fires so that system came in handy, I was able to get most of it out before the volunteer firefighters from town arrived.
    They’d said it looked like an appliance in the kitchen had started the fire. The insurance company seemed to accept this and while they arranged for a contractor to assess the damage and determine a rebuild or repair I found the apartment.

    This is what I was thinking of as I stared at the door. Then I heard them. It was my cousins. When we were younger, before I had reached the peak of adolescence, we were good friends. I spent my school holidays at home with Dad and they were always around. Their father was a mean drunk, and my father took upon himself to give them a safe place. They were arguing now, on the other side of the door.

    I was still groggy when Tristan came in, barely able to sit up. He brought in a chair and lifted me on to it. His brother was right behind him with a glass of water. I didn’t know what to say, I was unable to comprehend what they wanted with me.

    “We want your father’s land,” Tristan said. “He would’ve wanted us to have it.”
    I was coming around, “You can’t have the land, he left it to me in his will. What do you want with it anyway? You don’t strike me as the farming type.”
    Moving closer to me Tristan spoke in to my ear, “You’re father never told you did he? Never let you in on our little secret?”
    I gave him a puzzled look. Truth be told I was furious, both at my captivity and his smug attitude.
    Jonathon chimed in, “We can’t do this Tris, Jeremy never wanted him to know, never wanted him to be part of this.”
    “Quiet little brother,” Tristan replied. “I’ve made the decision for both of us.” With that Tristan threw Jonathon a look that made him cower like a frightened dog.
    Tristan turned to me, “Now cousin, I’ll show you what was kept secret, and you’ll give me that land.”
    “You see, we have an affliction, handed down to us by our father.” Tristan and Jonathon begin to take off their boots.
    “It was the reason your father sent you away.” Their eyes being to darken as they remove their shirts, I can feel a strange energy fill the air.
    “He knew what we were, and he let us be.” The room is beginning to feel much smaller, panic set in. My cousins stand naked in front of me, their bodies contorting.

    I am in shock, I cannot believe my own eyes. Two large wolves stand before me, teeth bared menacingly. Their growls send vibrations through the floor. I take my last breath.

  • The Editor’s Cut Uncut:

    It was a dark and stormy night…
    Alan: “No dammit, that’s been done” *snips*
    And then, he woke up, dead!
    Alan: “Wait, how can someone wake up dead?” *snips*
    Did I mention he was a zombie?
    Alan: “Oh, that makes sense!” *puts it back into the story*
    The Mummy then staggers out of the bathroom, the toilet paper still unraveling…
    Alan: “Err…did Mummies use toilet paper? I think they did. Okay that’s it! I’m getting some pizza from the fridge”
    But Alan, I ate the pizza
    Alan: “This story doesn’t make a lick of sense! And where’s my pizza gone?!”

    • (sorry, I wanted to extend my original entry)

      The Editor’s Cut Uncut:

      It was a dark and stormy night…
      Alan: “No dammit, that’s been done” *snips*
      And then, he woke up, dead!
      Alan: “Wait, how can someone wake up dead?” *snips*
      Did I mention he was a zombie?
      Alan: “Oh, that makes sense!” *puts it back into the story*
      The Mummy then staggers out of the bathroom, the toilet paper still unraveling…
      Alan: “Err…did Mummies use toilet paper? I think they did. Okay that’s it! I’m getting some pizza from the fridge”
      But Alan, I ate the pizza
      Alan: “This story doesn’t make a lick of sense! And where’s my pizza gone? And why is there a zombie and a Mummy coming out of the bathroom?!”

  • Disconnected

    “…It’s going to happen, Alice… I’m going to kill you…” rasped the voice. Frustrated, I slammed down the phone. This babysitting job is turning out less fun than I’d imagined. When I saw the local advert for a babysitter at the Greyhart’s fabled and incredibly well furnished gothic manor, I immediately called and somehow got the job!

    I had put young Cassandra and Lily to bed an hour ago. At first they were a reluctant and scared… perfectly understandable given the horrendous weather tonight… flashes of lightning following by tumulous cracks of thunder, tearing across the tormented night sky.

    The old telephone rang again… a high and shrill tone that pierced the rolling thunder outside. Annoyed, I disconnected the cable.

    Suddenly, a wave of thunder was heard, so great and powerful it felt like the foundations of the world were collapsing in a dystopian nightmare apocalypse. By some unknown force the dark velvet curtains of the living room blew apart and there, illuminated by split second flashes of blood red lightning was a dark figure in a trenchcoat. One in each claw, the phantom clenched the necks of two pale mutilated small bodies, their nightgowns torn and bloodied, flailing in the gale and rain.

    The glass shattered and the furious forces of nature blew in, extinguishing the hearth fire… I stood frozen as my heart pounded and my fate rushed in to meet me. My scream was lost in the storm.

  • Thin lines of sleet slid down the windows of the car door as Teddy pulled it open. He dumped the maps and files in his arms onto the passenger seat, before moving to his backpack to look for his camera.

    Teddy was a hobbyist photographer and was visiting his relatives at their home just near Elliot Lake, north of the Northern Channel, which separated Canada from the United States.

    He had spotted some of the local fauna around a river, and contrasted against the cool blue morning skies, he thought this a prime opportunity to excersize his eye behind the shutter. As he reached into the backpack, he pulled out the camera along with a file of some of the photos he had already snapped. His attention was drawn to a photo held to the front of the file by a paperclip, it was a photo of himself reaching into his car, as if it had been taken only seconds ago. Teddy turned around to look at the surrounding bush. The silence was eerie, Teddy felt uneasy.

  • Throughout life, one often contemplates the meaning behind it; life that is. I however, contemplate the meaning of death. I was born in the same manner as I was conceived, with my mother screaming on her back in pain waiting for the humiliation to be over. I was not a loved child – born a bastard, raised a bastard, I am what I have been told I am; a no good, soul twisting bastard. And this is where my story, my life, begins. Looking down at her, a bloody mess, the same bloody mess that gave birth to my miserable existence some 25 years ago, I realise that this is my second coming, my second birth. I am free from her oppression. Free to live out my existence as I see fit. And what I see fit, is that the group of men who raped my mother, only to bring an unloved and hated child in the world, suffer the same fate that she suffered – death by the hands of a soul twisting bastard. This is not a story of my life, it is a story of their deaths.

  • I felt her skin brush against my hand as I writhed, my arms and legs tied to the chair’s cold steel. The blindfold, pulled tight over my eyes, loosened as I rubbed it against my shoulder. Her nails began to dig into my neck as she jolted my head up and began to squeeze. I gasped and gagged as her grip tightened, realising that the end was near. Moments after my body went limp she let go, her stilettos echoing down the hallway as she left.

    I slowly lifted my head.

  • It’s dark.

    I’m suddenly woken from my deep sleep. I can hear her voice again…. and once again she is displeased.

    “Why did you take my baby, you bastard! I wanna talk to her now!” she screams, over and over and over. Her voice pierces my eardrums in its screeching, whiney tone.

    I dare not answer, as I could incriminate myself, although I’ve done nothing wrong. She wanted to come along. This woman can’t stop me. I won’t let her get into my head.

    I turn to my new wife and say “It’s four in the morning. We have eloped and now we are on our honeymoon… you can take this phone call and tell your mum to fuck off”

  • Manuscript 121: A Witness of supernatural event


    We’d just moved into a new unit. One day when I was with some friends a woman in long dark hair drifted past the window, we screamed. “It could have been anything” Mum laughed when we told her. Other peculiar things happened around the house. Lights switched on and off. One day I was playing with my tape recorder in my room. I pressed record and then play. Suddenly a horrifying scream burst out! Terrified I ran to my sister. We both shock in fear. The next day I went to a priest who heard the player and immediately told us to destroy the tape. The priest blessed the house and the activity of ghosts decreased. Hopefully they are resting in peace

  • One morning I woke up. I went to make breakfast. I made waffles. While sitting down preparing to eat my waffles I read the morning paper. There were so many bad things going on in the world. Suddenly when I looked up… my waffles were gone! I searched all around the house, up down, left and right, but I couldn’t find them. I was getting hungry but had no money. I looked at the dog… he was asleep so he couldn’t have eaten them. I certainly didnt eat anything. I called Mattlock. He couldnt find the culprit as well. Suddenly in the news a report on thieves stealing food items appeared. I got my guns and ammo out and flew to South America. I shot everyone in sight and yelled out: ” WHERE ARE MY WAFFLES?”

    I interogated everyone around the world, but no one found them. I went home miserable and hungry. Suddenly I just realised…..I ATE THE WAFFLES. For some reason I couldnt remember. Oh well… I didnt commit any crimes right ?


  • The last chip of stone fell from the wall. He put the hammer and chisel where they had been and stepped back to see the design that he had uncovered. The bits of stone he had been compelled to remove didn’t reveal a picture, but runes, in a language he had never seen before. Even still, he could read them.

    “A shiver went up my spine as I turned from the writing. As I did the wall opened with a terrible grinding sound. I paused, before stepping through the opening, pressing on toward my goal. The room was small, without any other exits. As I took this in sand flowed quickly around my ankles, pulling my feet down, locking them in the ground. The grinding sound started again and I knew my only exit was closing. I couldn’t move and the wall closed as I stood helpless. The darkness swallowed me.”

    As he finished reading the last rune a grinding sound resounded deep in the wall. He shivered as if cold and turned back the way he came. He stopped and glanced back at the wall, the way ahead clear. He turned toward the wall, plunging through the gap. Sand flowed over his feet and the wall closed quickly behind him.

  • WARNING: The following story is rated R for obession and horror, please take your children out now…….

    I wrote to him…. for 3 weeks he hasn’t replied.
    Justin Beiber is my hero. I wrote to him when he was in the Sunrise studio. I spent my college fund to go see you in the sunrise studio. It cost me a fortune man. I joined every fan club online and liked every thing about him on facebook. Why haven’t you replied Justin…. why ?

    Is that cause your busy or your just too COOL for fans. Man, I have every CD and photo of you in my room. I also had your name tattooed on my butt. Everything is Justin Bieber in my room. The bed and clothes, everything!

    I waited 5 months for your reply. Everytime I come home I expected a message from you…………..Nothing… only junk mail and catalogs. Look Justin I’m not mad I’m just annoyed that your taking so long to write back.

    I’m an obsessed fan, man. I just cried when you sang Baby, baby,baby. Your voice is so soothing. I LOVE YOU Justin Bieber, PLEASE Please Write back to me.

    P.S. If you don’t write back within 4 months I’l be dead.

    4 months later: nothing….. I died that day. Died from depression and obsession.

    This story has caused heart attacks and deaths. It is to scary for kids under 20, due to the fact that THIS GUY IS IN LOVE WITH JUSTIN BEIBER. This story terrifed me.

  • Alone I sat, surrounded by the impenetrable darkness. The black emptiness of the night had permeated every inch of the room, suffocating what little life had existed only moments ago. I was trapped here, trapped by my own desire to see this through.

    A faint tick broke the silence; my attention was drawn to the source, an old wooden clock which hung on the wall in front of me. My gaze lingered on its face as minutes turned into hours. Hope dwindled in my heart as I came to the realization that all I could do was wait. It was too late to turn back now, not when my goal was in sight.

    So I would wait. Wait for the power to turn back on so I could finish Alan Wake.

  • Have you ever experienced the feeling you’re being watched?
    That unerring knowledge that, despite the evidence of your senses, there are unseen eyes on you?
    Watching your every movement.
    Every breath.
    When you’re alone.
    While you’re reading this message.
    Have you checked they’re not? Perhaps you should.
    Perhaps you should look right now because who knows?

    The eyes know.

  • Glass shards crackle under foot like hot embers in the once glowing fireplace. A crow lay still on the floorboards, eyes frozen as a small pool forms underneath its neck. Alan peers cautiously out into the night. The damp midnight air creeps steadily in as thick fog tightens its grip on the disfigured tree limbs surrounding the cabin. As he reaches for his torch, Alan is suddenly overcome by a deafening crack to his skull that sends his world black. In the darkness, a soot-like figure stands silent over the body, stoker clenched in hand. The fireplace smolders and extinguishes.

  • I can’t see anything. Damn. In normal circumstances this is not good, but who said this is anything normal. Focus, focus Kell, for god sakes. How long have I been here? and where the hell is HERE? My mouth tastes strange, kind of metallic and the smell. What on earth is that smell?!
    Try to sit up… nothing… no response from my otherwise fully functioning body. No, No. This can’t be happening. It’s him. I know it, this reeks of him. How did I let this happen? I was so careful. God, the worst thing is I know how this ends. This is just the beginning…

  • I woke up with a gun in my hands, not knowing where I was, I ran.
    The middle of a bloody war, but was this war?
    Jumping around the small city without control, bullets coming at you but no one around.
    Then I saw him. A man running at me. I tried to fire but he was jumping around too much. Ten meters away he seemed to gravitate towards me. With a swift slice I was dead.
    It was like a ridiculous game. A game of modern warfare.

  • David Wildgoose was still at his desk, the office had been abandoned just hours ago. He sat with a smug grin as he read the comments on the latest competition winners.
    He knew his decision was selfish and affected, a fact that had begun to spread throughout the public domain.
    He denied the last of the accusatory comments and powered down his computer. Rising from the leather embrace of his over-priced office chair, he peered out the window.
    The view from the top of Kotaku tower fuelled his arrogance, forcing remnants of compassion from his heart.
    There were strange clouds outside and the office darkened.

  • “Come back, Raymond….” a hollow voice echoed amidst the dense forest.
    Raymond stumbled as he tried to escape the darkness. Leaves moistened by the thick fog crunched underfoot.
    Suddenly, his foot caught a root jutting out of the soil. He tumbled forward into the leaves, blinded by the viscous mud. He scrambled desperately back on his feet as the darkness came ever closer.
    “Come… back…!” came the eerie cry, now mutilated with a rasping anger.
    His eyes widened as the darkness had reached him at last. As it engulfed him, he screamed into the empty forest.

  • A man, sent home from the great war, injured and battered, the pain you can see in his eyes. He is grateful to finally be home and to see his wife, family and pet dog but as soon as he returns he is not greeted warmly. His dog barks viciously at him. His wife suprised to see him, half naked and in bed with the neighbour. He flees to his parents who are not happy to see him and shuns him away from being involved in such merciless killing.. “what hell is this?” he thinks to himself… then he finally realises, he truly is in hell.. he realises he never made it home from the war.. he realises his life ended on the battle field.. he realises he is in hell..

  • Cletus, or Cle as his girlfriend called him, tightened his grip on his crowbar as he crept through the foggy night.
    He recalled earlier that day before this mess how he reassured his princess that he would protect her.
    But the ex Special Forces and Medal of Honor recipient was powerless to stop the terrorists capturing her while he was being overwhelmed fighting off the zombie scourge.
    Suddenly in the distance he noticed the silhouette of a mob of time travelling ninjas approaching.
    With eyes full of rage he charged at them declaring into the night.
    “I’m coming for you princess and I will save you and this world or my name isn’t Cle Shay!”

  • Cupcake. Candyfloss. Marshmallow. Those were your nicknames, used because it was expected of me. Truth being told I always found comparing girlfriend with bakery items vaguely creepy. Nor that I ever thought processed refined sugar were desirable, never had a sweet tooth. Unpleasant surprise, to suddenly taste the richness of honey on your lips. Then it was the texture. Gooey, sticky, and then none. Then I sank into you, your crumbly sponge that used to your firm body. What used be your eyes, now two perfect cherries protruding out of the sockets. Was it your wish to be forever alluring?

  • There was a pen.

    The man held the pen in his hand.

    The man held the pen in his hand and wrote by the flickering candle.

    The man held the pen in his hand and wrote by the flickering candle, as the things of the darkness wailed impotently.

    The man with the pen in his hand stopped writing, and the things of the darkness crawled closer.

    The man with the pen in his hand listened to the things of the darkness as the candle expired.

    The man dropped the pen from his hand in the darkness.

    There was a pen.

  • Once upon time in a galaxy far, far away there lived an alien named Fred.
    Fred was a peaceful space slug but had a bit of a drinking problem.
    One day after a few brews at the local drinking hole, Fred thought it would be a good idea to play some intergalactic space golf. Intergalactic space golf by the way is very deadly, but Fred being wasted as he was didn’t mind the risk of being killed so he could have some recreational fun.
    As Fred was playing he saw an ex-wife he owed divorce settlements to and decided to make a break for it, but the problem is this particular type of golf is played on small, hovering platforms. So when Fred tried to slime away he just fell off the platform and died.
    You would think this was the end of Fred, but luckily God owed him one from the University days when Fred got him laid.
    So Fred rose up from the dead and decided to go back to the pub.

  • A farmer wakes up to a flash of green light, and his dog is barking in the backyard. He goes to see what happens, but see nothing, and goes back to sleep. Moments later he wakes up to hear sounds of something scratching in his kitchen, and he gets up to investigate, but still sees nothing, he goes outside and he notices that his dog’s tail is behind a bush, he runs towards it and looks behind the bush, he instantly drops down and starts to cry while whispering his dog’s name. Feeling upset he goes back inside and grabs his shotgun. While he is grabbing his shotgun he hears sounds of scratching on his floor behind him. He turns around and sees a dark figure in the shadows, he shoots at it but the bullets reflects back hitting the farmer on his knees, causing him to drop down, the farmer starts to panic and grabs his torch so he could see the face of his murderer, he flashes it towards the figure’s face. The figure screams and covers its head and wackes away the torch with its tail, and starts to run away. Knowing his weakness the farmer starts to crawl after the creature. He looks around and he see a scaly tail poking out the doorway, he quickly runs towards to the tail and turns in to the room, and to his surprise he only see a dead tail wiggling around, suddenly a scaly arm pops out of his chest almost killing him, as he drops down he see in the corner of his eye, that is was a humanoid reptilian that has killed him.

  • A polite invitation; amicable discourse. That is what he had intended. That is what he had thought.
    But the box within the box before him flooded with abusive nonsense-words as he typed.
    He used to be such a nice person. Respectable, and rare to anger.

    Live they called it, and it was alive, communicating and yet consuming in equal measure.
    Such a tenuous grasp on this strange language, and already it had corrupted him.
    He was losing his soul, his identity, under the mocking gaze of the green-eyed cyclops.
    It blinked red, preparing to claim its next victim.

    ooh 99 words exactly! (or 101 if you split the hyphenations – yes I know it was just a guide)
    Is an all-or-nothing stance possible on an entry? – I don’t have an Xbox myself, so if I won the bundle it would be fabulous, but I wouldn’t want to deny a standalone copy of the game to someone who already has the hardware for it.

  • “Even our greatest accomplishments are dismissed in time”

    The ominous voice ceased as quickly as it started. A frozen shiver traversed down my spine as if it were a dead autumn leaf being forced to the ground, nothing in sight except old newspapers, dead roaches and broken glass.

    “And time eventuates to dismiss itself.”

    The voice manifested itself, behind the decrepit bar I now sat at. Anxiety diseased my slumped frame as a worm infested skull welcomed me to its abode.

    “I am nothing a black suit with a broken neck, a shepherd with no sheep. I am but an agent of time.”

    I forced my head down, this is only a dream, this is only a dream, this is only a…

  • It was dark and raining…

    Somebody was following me through the night, masking their footsteps with my own. I’d look behind my shoulder every now and then, but I never saw anything. Sometimes I’d catch a glimpse of a shadow in the corner of my eye.

    I start to walk quicker, trying to evade the unknown in this dark night, but I took the wrong turn and it was a dead end. I quickly look behind me when a sudden flash of lightning in the distance lights up the surroundings, giving me a glimpse of the silhouette.

    My heart froze.

  • Alan was standing in an open field west of a white house, with a boarded front door. There was a small mailbox here. Alan opened the mailbox to reveal a small leaflet, which he then proceeded to remove. Alan tried to read the leaflet, but the letters began to swirl across the page until they formed a vortex that seemed to suck the life out everything around him. Alan could do nothing but stare at the paper as he felt his own life force spiralling away into paper he held in his hands.
    Then he woke up. Alan was no longer In a field, but back in the public toilets he remembered from the day before. He looked down with horror to discover that his pants were missing. He was not Alan Wake. He was Alan Jones!

  • Steps…Footsteps.

    The creak of wood. An eerie whine as the timbers groan under an unexpected weight.


    Something, someone furthering its way into the darkness…getting closer.

    Close enough to hear…Close enough to smell, to taste, to touch… but never close enough to see. The presence would haunt me, ever in attendance but never truly there. For it is the observation of something that makes it real for us.
    A laugh, haunting and shrill sends shivers down my back. It has returned.

    A careful footstep followed by several swift leaps brings it ever closer…

    What will happen this night?

  • The Horror Story
    On a dark and stormy night, the old woman who lived alone in the old dark house on Cliché Island was doing science. But something went horribly wrong. A priest who had lost his faith and a disturbed writer teamed up to investigate, but they never returned. An angry mob burned down the bridge to the island.

    Ten years later, a group of happy go lucky teens mistakenly sail to the island instead of their intended destination – Booze, Sex and Drugs Island. They get lost in the woods and decide to split up. Each character meets a grisly death until only the innocent virgin girl remains. The priest/writer/werewolf/vampire/mummy closes in on her but stops when the girl shows her love instead of hate. Then she wakes up.

  • You are tired, you are afraid. You are running away from something but you don’t know what it is. You are running away from somewhere but you don’t know where to. You try to look around but you can’t see anything, not even your bloodied feet. You try to scream but no words come out. You are confused and disorientated. You ask yourself where and what you are running from but you cannot answer. You are so exhausted you could just collapse but your mind is telling you not to stop. You can feel movements from all around you which makes you run faster. Suddenly the floor drops away from under your feet. You wake…You are tired, you are afraid…you are running away from something.

  • David blew years of dust and cobwebs off the boxes. After the all the effort he’d already put into cleaning out the attic, surely his SNES wasn’t in another castle?

    “That’s odd, I don’t remember this old album?”. Dimly-lit by flickering candle light, he opened the leather-bound book.

    The first page revealed that this was in fact a photo album, though the photos looked eerily familiar; upon the first page:

    [The attic entrance, slightly ajar]

    *turns the page*

    [The dusty junk box which had been in the attic only minutes earlier]

    *turns the page*

    [An over-the-shoulder view of David, reading the old album]

    *turns the page*

    Without warning… the candle blew out

  • The brown cardboard roll lay naked on the floor. It’s box, with new “neat zip-cutting action” had been tossed aside, not needed, unwanted. Paul had never dealt with this many victims. Their whimpering, their sobs seeped into his mind, taunted it, searching for some sort of sympathy.

    Paul knew nothing of this. This was evident from his cold direct stare as he wrapped the plastic film around the young girls’ heads. He was neat, the thin polymer was tight, it enclosed on the features of the girls’ faces back, distorting them.

    Often when a face seizes up in terror, it can be hard to tell if one is laughing or crying. With their expressions in stasis, smudged lipstick and Paul still in his leotards, there was an air of humor about it. The stack of empty “Glad-Wrap” boxes pilled up in the corner was just icing on the cake.

  • Although the two families had still not settled their differences they had reached a point of acceptance on their children’s love , The wedding was over and they could now finally live together. Elizabeth and Edmund had won their freedom from their families and could now fully express their love. Elizabeth had moved to Edmund’s summer property after the wedding where they could now be raise a family. For the first time since the Great war, they could finally be together forever
    Then a skeleton jumped out.

  • Louise glared at her painting again, growing more frustrated with each brush stroke. Was there no way to be unique in this time period? Would she ever find a way to stand out from her peers? No matter what, it seemed everything had been done.
    As she was about to rip it from the easel, there was a sudden loud noise – the painting started to change before her eyes. Colours like she had never experienced melted over her work, it was like looking into another world. The beauty overloaded her senses, her muscles locked up and she could hardly breathe. It was stunning! There were simply no other words to describe it, she had to share it with the world! Her legs would not move though, and they let her slip from the chair.
    As she slumped onto the floor, she noticed a small hole on her masterpiece, surrounded by speckled crimson… but her head ached so much, she just needed to lie down and rest. She only just noticed hearing the footsteps… coming or going? Who knows… Perhaps her roommate had returned already? At last somebody to share this wi……

  • Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

    Every tick, every tock. Each a moment closer to the end.
    It’s strapped tight around my waist. Secured with gaffer tape. Such inelegance is fitting for this situation.

    Tick. Tock.

    I step further down the corridor. Each step, each tick, closer to the goal. I’m ready for this. No. I’m not. What am I about to do? There must be hundreds of people here. Hundreds of people, and, the Prime Minister.

    Tick. Tock.

    Closer now. I’m here. It’s time. Trigger in the pocket, hand clenches. Sweat. Beating heart. It’s time, I have to do it.

    “Stop him! Stop him!” The crack of a bullet. Oh, must have gone through my head. Odd feeling. Hands limp. I’m dead now. No explosion. No-one else suffers. I’m glad.

  • “Wait… Jello Biafra?”

    Shen nodded. “I know.”

    “Then… culture jamming? All the anti-consumerism stuff?”

    “It’s misinformation.” Shen stood up and walked over to his laptop. He pulled up a series of scanned documents, and turned the screen towards me. “This is bigger than us, Sammy.”

    “But… but the-“ I was cut short.

    “Look here.” He showed me a name.

    “Boucher? …No. No way.”

    “Yeah. Turns out our buddy here was a willing pawn all along.” Shen pulled his nicotine gum out and chewed. I sighed. “Well… crap.” The wall behind us fell, and Shen spat on the ground. “They’re here. Run.”

  • I was cruise through this town on the way to my mother’s house and everyone’s huddling around the T.V shop as if the news was telling them that the world was coming to an end. I asked a plump fat kid at the back of the crowd, “What’s going on!?” and he replied “I have no idea; I’m too short to see”. I pushed my way through and I could hear whispers that someone had died and we’re all doomed. I finally make it to the front and it was Stephenie Meyer on the news, reported dead.

  • Travis had never really understood why Grace was terrified of the ocean. It seemed like such a cliche, yet another mind seeing “Jaws” at an early age and ever since harboring an irrational fear of open water. But something did seem different. The rational side of Travis was desperately trying to internally argue that it was just water, but the shores around the lodge still made his legs feel weak.

    The atmosphere around the shores at night was nothing short of terrifying, even for a grown man who had no childish fascination with ghosts or the supernatural. Trying to be the strong man for Grace seemed like an impossible task, but pride somehow took the drivers seat as they quietly walked up towards the house.

  • Excerpt from ‘Faith’ by Simon Leep

    This morning as I woke, I felt awakened in another way, a brighter, starker way – too awake, too aware. A shaft of light pumped in to my eyes with the same toxic gusto as BP’s underwater hellhole.

    I reached for my pills, I needed max pain relief – a remedy for the radical realisation that my world wasn’t my own anymore. My world was my studio, I hadn’t left in 3 weeks…well, my hand had, but only to return seconds later – holding a pizza box.

    As I threw the pills down my thinning throat I tried to act like I was unaware of the new presence in the room, panicking within my peripheral vision, my pupils frantically searching for my uninvited guest while my head remained outwardly nonchalant.

    Suddenly my xbox clicked on…

  • Drip. Drip. Drip.

    Tiny drops spattered onto his forehead, exploding on impact. Trickles of blood flowed down the forehead, onto his eyes.

    Drip. Drip. Drip.

    The eyes fluttered open, squinting to adjust to the lack of light. The darkness. Thick and dark, penetrating everything. The blood drips into eye. He raises is hand, only to find out bound down. He tries his other, to no success. His heart starts racing, beating so hard it is audible. He fights against the restraint, his situation becoming apparent. The fear builds up, desperation in his eyes. The restraints burn against his wrists, but he is impervious to it. Panic sets in. The scream builds in his throat until it can no longer be repressed. The wail echoes throughout, only to be heard by one other soul. The wooden floor creaks underneath her every step. He spots her. The struggling ceases. Then the penny drops.
    Fear oozing through his pores, he redoubles his efforts.

    The scream fades out.

    She chuckles.


    Drip. Drip. Drip.

  • Tom rushes down the hall, his hands shaking and muscles aching. He was running on pure adrenaline at this point, it had to be, legs aren’t meant to function this well after waking up from a coma.

    Tom collapses to the ground. He tries to find the strength to get him back on his feet and running for the door again.

    A whistling echos through the hallway, Tom turns to see who it is. He points his torch down the hallway of the deserted hospital, the flickering making it hard for him to focus.

    “Time to play Tom” Comes a reply, sending chills down his spine.

    Tom recognises the voice and tries to focus on the figure at the end of the hall. He squints to try and get a glimpse of the large object in the mans hand.

    Suddenly the torch goes out.

  • The room was dark but moonlight shining through the window, the lonely man sat hunched over in a chair – cursing to himself, a young woman’s body lay on the floor in front of him – the hunched figure regretting telling his wife that he was leaving her. He had removed the knife from her chest. His fingerprints would be found on the knife. The spurned wife had taken her revenge.

  • Another cold drop of sweat ran down his face. One was above him he knew that, they always left a few above ground to watch and wait, if it knew he was there it had not revealed this. How long had he been here, he had closed his eyes while he waited, then it was still light, even then he knew he had to get out before dark, but it was too late for that. Then it came, the stale rotting exhalation of breath from deeper underground that meant they were moving up, he would have to move.

  • Everyone was scared of the basement and no one wanted to go down there. When you there you always felt as if something was there, like this dark and oppressive presence. We would always walk by quickly without ever looking inside of it.

    I remember always hearing my mom call me to come downstairs, as clear as day I would hear it. So I would go, and sure enough everytime mom would say she didn’t call. It happened once close to midnight when no one was downstairs, that freaked everyone out.

  • Mark edged closer and closer toward the light. “Please stay on, please stay on dammit!” he madly repeated. The horrors that just faced him left him trembling in fear, and dripping of sweat and blood. The smell of death was all around him as he drew heavy breaths. Demons unseen began to grip the back of his neck. “The light will not hurt you” a voice whispered seductively into his ear. “You should know that by now Mark”.

    Mark screamed hysterically. “DON’T BE F#$KING ABSURD!!!!” Perversely he continued “All THE LIGHT ever does is hurt me! THE LIGHT took my wife from me, THE LIGHT took my children from me, THE LIGHT even took my f#$king chickens away from me!!!”

    Mark chuckled. “You know what, I’ll take my chances with the DARKNESS…..”

  • It’s a warm autumn evening as I arrive home from my recent trip to the shops. I enter my house and walk with purpose towards the TV room.

    I carry with me my newly purchased copy of Red Dead Redemption and walk forward to turn on my XBox. My heart thumps with anticipation.

    I press the button…

    I Wait…

    A red glow is cast across my face. I look down to see a red ring. The red ring. My heart sinks in my chest as I sigh. Broken hearted. Now what do I do?

  • It was dark in the kitchen.
    No. Not just dark. Pitch. Black.
    I stood still, straining to hear, but dreading the sound that had invaded my dreams and brought with it decay.
    I looked at the oven clock.
    For the 3rd night running, I mused.
    The light from these flickering & anaemic digits, was just enough, as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, to reveal a female form of obscene angles & dimensions standing but inches away.
    The sonic abortion, I knew, was hers as she opened her mouth once more to fill the room with vast godless choirs.

  • I lay between worlds, wondering if I yet dream. Silence; soundless disarray and voiceless whispers. My limbs struggle to shake sleep as my mind untangles. Shadows; silhouettes dance upon the wall. My heart panics, awakening senses to pierce the night. A void; no sound, no light, no breath. A darkness at the end of the bed watches motionless, void to the senses. A struggle; cry in the night, frantic resistance. Yet, I am alone, deceived by the night.
    Sleep; I slowly return to dreams, the rain smothering the senses.

    Fleeting shadows against the window, smothering rain, a void standing at the end of the bed.

  • I crept cautiously around the corner of the building. My unwitting target was only feet away. I raised my PP-2000, aimed at the back of his head and pulled the trigger.
    Nothing happened! I fired again and still nothing.
    Then it appeared; the demon that has haunted my days and nights since I first began my quest.
    “Cannot migrate host…server error….connection timed out”.
    Again I have been thwarted by Activision and Modern Warfare 2. Curse them and all who dwell within.
    Not to be discouraged, I click on the find game icon and prepared to face my demons again.

  • The problem was he couldn’t remember having ever been trapped in the damn thing. It seemed as though he’d been confined in it for as long as he could remember. There was no recollection of sleeping or waking, no memories of dreaming, eating, breathing – he just was. Like an insect simply exists, so he existed. He had vision, that much was certain, for he could clearly see the membranous walls which hemmed him in on every side; he had hearing too, for could occasionally discern the muffled sounds that went on outside, as though taking place in an entirely separate reality.

  • Daylight was fading fast, so he ran faster. Sweat streamed down his neck, dampening his collared shirt as the gunshot cracks of shoes hitting cobblestones echoed along the narrow alley. He paused for breath, leaden legs aching, heart pounding in his ears. He chanced a look over his shoulder, seeking movement in the thickening fog. Had he finally lost them?

    That’s when he heard the roar – the tortured guttural cry that so often haunted his nightmares. A new burst of adrenaline coursed through his system, making short work of any fatigue. He ran on.

  • yeah not to be a dick or anything but

    “Keep it short. The manuscript pages in Alan Wake are never longer than 100 words. So that’s your guide. Multiple entries are absolutely forbidden. And you’ve got until midnight Friday, June 4 to get your entry in.”

    saw a couple of essays in here lol

  • Eyes widened in shock as her mouth opened in a silent scream, blood spilling from the gash in her exposed throat quickly ruining the outfit she had chosen to wear that day.
    It seemed to take her a lifetime to collapse to the ground, seemingly lifeless, but before the darkness took her completely she heard a quiet grunt as though in acknowledgment of a job well done.
    As if heard from a long tunnel, footsteps seemed to echo as he walked away and leaving her behind.
    A final thought occurred, “I should have listened to my mum.. clean underwear, dammit.”

  • ***

    The deafening creak of the door. No warm smile this time; just hollow, tearful eyes. A fading rainbow glistened from her knife.
    I still love her. I–


    Sometimes people do things; unthinkable things. Sometimes things happen.


    I loved him. Drip. I was the creator. Drip. I also had to be the destroyer. Drip – yet another teardrop landed on the blade. My other hand trembled as I pushed open the door with a whispered creak.


  • *** 3rd times a charm – fuding office selectively deciding when to correct my rushed spelling failures ***

    The uniquely distressing breeze slithered down Alan’s neck like a serpent as he walked into the stolid and unimpassioned building.

    A ‘hospital’ to some, but not to Alan; he reserved that word for a facility in which you visited to aid you in swift recovery when afflicted; this was not such a place and not such an instance.
    More insidious than healing, the walls seemed to creep upon themselves and look on Alan with broken faces which never quite formed; into anything human or recognisable by any measure. Still, they haunted him as they looked on in tedium; Alan the focus of their musings as he walked down their lane; their morbid den of existence.
    At first the halls lay empty without a human presence to be seen, merely to be heard; screams and yelling echoing out in warning to any who would dare defy their relevance and continue forward.
    A face appeared suddenly, unique and feminine; gorgeous and attractive. Alan shivered in fear, feeling the muscles at his back squeeze together, as if possessed or at impulse. It was a nurse in full garb yet somehow utterly terrifying and off-putting; Alan clenched his fists for a moment before realising that as a tell and looking into her eyes, desperately attempting to avoid looking afraid.
    “Well you know what you have in store for you so you best be prepared” said the nurse, her deep red lips letting go her seductive and destructive voice; Alan fixed and mesmerised by the porcelain of her veneer.
    Alan looked at her and said nothing, instead sizing her, it, the situation up and all the while fighting the urge to turn his feet around and run; as fast as he could and then some, forever if it was necessary.
    Alan gathered his quaking and unsteady nerves and let out the words he knew he had to let out; as delivered to the bass of his own beating heart, “I have sinned and now a penance is due to be paid. I must be cleansed, and if I must walk through hell to have absolution then that is the price I am indebted to pay. I made my choices and now I must pay.”
    The hauntingly beautiful nurse winked slowly with her left eye; her lips lengthening with a wicked smile of high amusement; “this way, the doctor is in.” She turned and began walking into an enclave, her hips swinging consciously from side to side as if to direct the frightened Alan to where she would have him be.
    She stopped, opened a door to her left and flung it open just while taking a glace back at Alan; still smiling a wicked smile; a beacon to her weary patient, to signal him in to the room.
    As Alan followed the penetrating woman into the so called ‘doctor’s office’, he prepared to let go of himself as he knew he would not leave untouched nor unviolated. His nightmares had a cause and they were a product of his own abuses, with one fell move he would seek to clear himself of his night terrors, the price was ready to be paid; he should have eaten more grains and yoghurt.

    But that was all butt history now; the past. He closed the door slowly behind him as he entered the office, noticing an eerily silent man standing coldly and motionlessly next to a table with a device attached to a malicious looking tube. The man animated and took a step towards Alan; “Time to take your pants off, Mr. Wake”. Alan nodded as he clicked the door to the colonic irrigation specialist’s office closed.
    After that night Alan never dealt with night terrors again, nor avoided eating his fiber.

  • Looking up from his flower bed, Francis squinted as the afternoon sun hit his eyes. The car horn sounded again and so he began struggling up from his knees, one hand grasping the garden wall in front of him. An engine, idling in the car on the far side of the road. No driver was visible from where Francis stood. Clumsily brushing the dirt from his trousers Francis made his way over towards the vehicle. He opened his mouth to make a sound – only to be quelled by the muzzle flash, as loud and silencing as the voice of god.

  • Gazing out the frosted window, Jep noticed a faint light in the distance. The glow danced and darted in the darkness towards the cabin. The fears he was harbouring dissipated though the source of comfort was foreign to him. It may have been the child-like way the glow travelled through the forest illuminating the pines it passed. The light came to a standstill at the edge of the clearing not twenty paces from the barricaded cabin. It hovered like the setting sun projecting warmth on the stark refuge.

    Jep was confused and concerned for he saw a plump creature the size of a basketball and similarly proportioned. The fairy was dressed in a green tracksuit that had stretched to accommodate her spherical figure. The fairy lacked wings and appeared to use the orb as transport. The obese fairy sported a crooked smile that instantly drank the warmth from Jep’s chest. His body began to shiver in a futile attempt to regain warmth. Primal instincts drew Jep to the barred door. Outside he could warm himself with the orbs comforting heat.

    The fairy licked its swollen lips and tied back her blonde tangled hair in preparation as the door opened.

  • My 4 year old daughter talked about a man in her room. She refused to go in there alone. She had never been told what ghosts were; I didn’t want to scare her at her young age. One day my two girls were in the bath tub. I was in the kitchen making dinner. I heard my 4 year old screaming in terror, “MUMMY!! MUMMY!! THERE’S A MAN!! THERE’S A MAN!!” I came running into the bathroom. The looks my girls faces were of pure terror; looking in my direction, but they weren’t looking at me. I don’t know what they were looking at, but I could tell they could see something. I asked, “Where is the man?”. They both pointed right beside me, “HE”S RIGHT THERE MUM!! RIGHT THERE!!” I asked if he was nice, and my 4 year old replied, “NO MUM! HE’S BAD!! HELP HIM MUM! HE’S IN TROUBLE!!” I didn’t know what to do at that point, she was frantic, scared and yet concerned all at once. “HELP HIM MUM HE’S BLEEDING!!!!” She screamed.

  • Tik Tok, WAKE up in the morning feeling like Alan Wake.

    As the light dimmed, i saw the triangle reminding me of the New World Order who was part of the Illuminati. I was shocked and never recovered.

  • Choose your own adventure!
    Mystery of the disappearing R18+ rating

    A. You decide to lobby for the introduction of an R18+ rating. To start a website and lobby online, go to D, to try to get on TV to voice your opinion, go to E. To get the ball rolling on a discussion paper, go to B. To skip right to the end go to L.

    B. Major retailers jump on the cause and help you. Before you know it you have swayed public opinion and have 45,000 signatures. To continue to support the paper, go to J. To write a personal letter to the Attorney General, go to C.

    C. The letter you get back is the generic “thank for your concern” thing, with your name filled out at the top. You read it while pirating the game you are lobbying for. Go to K.

    D. Your website becomes a hit. Unfortunately a few idiots decide to send threatening letters to people, your cause is linked to gangs and drug rings. To keep on supporting the discussion paper go to J. To try to dissolve the situation go to F

    E. A sensationalist report on today tonight linking video game violence to drunken idiots in Kings Cross airs. To go on the show and give an interview response, go to G. To let it slide go to H.

    F. The online discussion soon descends into a flamewar about what console would benefit from the R18+ Rating the most. To write a personal letter to the Attorney General, go to C. To try to go on TV go to E.

    G. Your 45 min interview is cut down to 3 soundbites, grossly taken out of context. Meanwhile you are painted as a gore hungry maniac. Your opponent in the debate is a member of a misinformed right wing association funded with taxpayer money. To do your own press go to H. To have a live debate with a politician go to I

    H. Any supporters you talk to are instantly branded “criminals” without a shred of proof. TV picks up the criminal story for better ratings. Go to K.

    I. The politician repeatedly cites statistics from questionable sources, then links video game violence to high crime rates with Rapelay as a case study. Your argument is good, Australians love it. Go to L

    J. The support paper gains unprecedented momentum. However the fine print means they are allowed to throw it in the bin without looking at it. Go to K

    K. The R18+ rating is finally introduced! Only then do you wake from your dream to realise that these decisions are made by people whose closest contact to a video game was playing Spacewar in 1971. You decide it would probably be easier just to import from now on. End

    L. You finally get the R18+ rating, only to find some legal loophole makes them illegal to actually sell in shops after being rated. You decide life isn’t worth living. End

  • To awaken in the morning is to emerge into only half a world, a grey indistinct place of muted sounds and pitiless cold. Only the regenerative power of a strong coffee combined with some reading material to push-start the brain are enough to bring clarity and resiliance enough to fully rouse oneself into the world completely. A strangely fragile, even fearful state of mind she thought waiting for the pot to boil, “What would happen if one did not fully awaken? if the coffee was undrinkable, or the reading material too bland or impossible for the brain to digest? Would one be doomed to remain in the half-waking world, never able to fully reach consciousness?” A horrid thought, but then she wasn’t fully awake yet. Luckily the coffee was a good brew and would draw her further into the waking world, and when combined with the insightful journalism of Kotaku, the waking world was surely within reach, she mused with what passed for good humour at that godless morning hour. “Whats this? an article by David Wildgoose – ‘Suspense thriller Alan Wake is one of the year’s best games’.” Her brain shuddered before stalling completely. “Damn yooooooooooou Wiiiiiiilllllldgooooooooooooooooose ……..”

  • I could feel the Darkness slowly creeping around me. I decided that my gangster life was no good and i embraced the darkness.
    “Let it go, Taihn. Let the darkness consume you!” it said
    “I will.” I thought.
    The darkness brought out a huge tendril and that went into my mouth. I choked for a second. Then i died. That let the darkness take me over completely.

    I woke up and found 3 guns lying next to me as well as a belt with a holster. I grabbed the rocket launcher but it was out of ammo. I put the Luger in my holster and grabbed a semi-machine gun that seemed to shoot dark pellets. I went to the forest to find new people to consume with the darkness. That’s when I heard the hunters. I knew they were potential victims, especially the one without the torch.

  • I opened the old rusty door slowly to trying not to make any noise not knowning what could be on the otherside. I could hear dripping sounds, the room was pitch black. I bravely took a step forward barefooted, the floor was cold and wet. There was a speck of light at the long end corner I slowly walked towards the light unable to see I kicked something and tripped over. Afraid to look back I ran to the speck of light wipping my wet hands on my shirt. A mirror was at the end of the light. I looked at the mirror, blood all over my clothes the cold wet floor all bloody, behind me dead bloodies that I tripped over. I stood there stunned, staring at the mirror, my scared eyes gazing back at me, a white wrinkled ghostly face came up, I turned around…—blank—

  • My saliva had soured in my mouth, the tape across my lips stifling every breath. My shoulders clicked in their sockets as the restraints cut off the circulation to my fingertips. My captor lurked in darkness, smirking deviously as he watched the sweat and condensation forming on my brow. The light from the bare bulb above glinted from his venomous stare as he turned on the television set before me. The tune filled my ears, so loud that even my screams could not overwhelm that accursed melody.

    *My name is Angela – hey, hello! Welcome to my very own show…*

  • XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD @ the colonic irrigation story. Got me! I thought it was just going to be another boring attempt at horror but then it was about poo. Good show!

  • As soon as I felt the thick clotted blood on the table I knew I had to get out of the house. Disorientated I spun in the thick darkness searching desperately for a way out. Thin wisps of dusk crept in through a crack beneath a distant door. The harsh repetition of shoes on rotten wooden floorboards assaulted my ears but I soon realised they were mine, lifting me towards my final escape. The thin glowing outline of the approaching door grew with each stride, my hand coming to rest on a gargoylesk protrusion in place of a door nob. I burst through the door into the cold dim of evening, scrambling to a barren expanse of road that stretched out before me. I whistled for a cab and when it came near, the license plate said fresh and had dice in the mirror. If anything i could say that this cab was rare but i thought nah, forget it yo home to bel-air!

  • Steven pondered about entering the Kotaku competition, as he sat at his chair, gaze soley upon the competition terms.

    “Another Kotaku competition?”, He chuckled. “It’s too bad the prize is already something I have”, He said with a smirk as he leaned over and pat his Xbox 360, lovingly.

    “Speaking of which”, The Xbox sprung to life. The electricity flowing through its circuits, the fan started to turn and the CPU waiting to go.

    But something was `wrong`, The CD screamed as it was scratched and ravaged beyond recognition. Each scratch hammering Steve’s heart ever further into the nightmare.

    He struggled to turn it off and as it grinded and churned, it was like the darkness had possessed it. Finally, there was silence.

    Steve looked up and saw it. The face of true evil that all 360 owners fear.

    They wern’t just rings… They were the “Red Rings”

  • The boat bobbed happily on the lake. Erika could not stop her body lurching, hands trembling, she looked at them and saw a strangers shivering in the shadows. Dark mascara stained tears marred her milk white cheeks, the feeling wouldn’t stop, it just rested deep in her chest like a cancerous knot above her stomach. She was so silent, and if no one saw, she would be fine. She leant down and picked up the writhing body, his mouth was gagged, his eyes open wide in the moonlight, a scream etched on his face, one that could, would never leave his lips. She kissed him on the forehead and gently lowered him into the lake, watching as the bubbles floated to the satin surface.

  • There is a note.

    “You are Alan Wake. You have a wife called Alice. You have a baby greyhound called Sirius. You are a forgotten author. You give in to curiosity. You have two toast when you wake up.

    I have no name. I am alone. I am the man who cannot be seen. I am the shadow that lurks around. I am the silhouette in the corner. I am despair, desolation and despondency. I am inevitable.

    I know you, I see you, I hear you but most of all,

    I am behind you.”

    There was no more.

  • I was dead tired at my work desk, I looked outside the window to see the full moon glowing on my face as it was a light to remind me.

    Trying to figure out how to finish my screenplay, I noticed a shadowy figure disappearing on my desk, I looked at the bedroom window where my wife was asleep.

    She didn’t seem to move from what I can tell but as I went to look at my work I then saw a sentance that I didn’t type in…

    “DaRkNeSs cOmEs HoMe tO YoU, DaDdY!”

    I gasped as I then noticed the letters started shaking and then a dark ghost of my deceased daughter came out. “You killed me, father” the ghost said “Why?…”

  • Sitting on my parents lounge, my legs up watching late night tv, the grandfather clock chimes 11. The grey haze of mums cigarette smoke slowly floats in the air as I continue to watch with tired eyes and slowing breath. The previous owner, Mrs Provan sold the house to us in 82 when her late husband passed away from a fatal heart attack. Next to me, he would have struggled clutching chest and knowing that the end had come. His presence was felt and heard in the house until she passed away 12 years later. The dogs start barking…

  • It was raining. It was always raining. Ever since the virus had mutated, turning ordinary citizens into the creatures that terrorised the night and the Governments half-hearted effort to stop them.

    Kasey knew the terror of this new world all too well, having witness her twin brother’s turning and subsequent eating of her parents moments before turning his attention to her.

    Her hand touched the scar that ran the length of her face, a constant reminder to trust no one, that to stay alive you could only depend on yourself.

  • There was no going back. It was done. He bashed his hands against the ground. How could he do this? How could he have done such a thing. The chilling realization that he was a murderer dawned on him. A murderer! He had blood on his hands! He would never be able to forgive himself…but would she? He did this all for her. Everything was for her. He bit his tongue and looked on at the disfigured, flattened figure, those angry eyes staring back. But it was time to move on. Mario adjusted his cap and the path opened in front of him, beckoning him…

  • potato at me?” he snarled, playing with his gun as the rain poured outside. Surrounded by broken dishes, Anna quivered, too afraid to move. “Your husband died for nothing, bitch, now where is the goddamn flash drive?”
    “I don’t know,” she pleaded, “he was secretive and worth a hundred of you, you you MONSTER!” Lightning flashed overhead and the kitchen, damaged beyond repair, sunk into inky blackness. The spell broken, Anna ran into the living room, past Sam’s college diploma and the photos they took when things had been so much simpler.
    Nursing her broken arm, the shattered doorway beckoned. Hope quickened her steps but all too

  • ………the end

    think about that one, nothing is more scarier than the unknown. so be afraid

  • She could have stood there for days, immersed in her surrounds. The light that surrounded her, kept her transfixed and motionless. She could feel nothing but ecstasy yet sensed that this beauty had a malicious intent. The light was whispering, carefully placing ideas into her brain. Of what use was motion, fury or life, when nothing could ever get any better? She knew these thoughts were self destructive, yet they enveloped her, clung to her, and tore at her sanity, ripping it to shreds. Hope and reason left her, as she could find no reason to resist. Her mind let go, and her body went limp, as the light convinced her that everything was how it should be, and it was beautiful…

  • I stood in the darkened hallway, listening to the steady beat of the rain. Pat pat pat pat pat pat pitter pat …. On and on and on. My breathing matched it’s pace, in out in out, in perfect harmony with it all. The room was empty except for a large mirror at the end wall. There was nothing else, just clean white-wash walls and concrete. But in the mirro, things were different. Walls rotted, vines snaked across the floor and shadows took form and life, beconing me towards the mirror. I let them pull me, I was an empty shell, full of the sound of rain. Reaching the mirror, a single flash of lightning was shown in the mirror, yet no thunder followed it. With dream-like quality; my hand reached up towards the mirror. Then, I felt them flood through. We were no longer an empty shell, we had become whole, and all the while, we heard the pat pat pat pat pat pat pitter pat of the rain; as the world began to decay.

  • A bit of midnight gaming guilt that would go well with some Vincent Price narration…

    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
    Over many an “extra ten minutes” and that ill achieved high score,
    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
    As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
    “‘Tis some delusion,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door –
    Just a little longer, another level more”.

    But a raven, sitting lonely on the placid TV, spoke only
    Those few words, as if my guilt in those few words he did outpour.
    Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered –
    Till I scarcely more than muttered, “other people game this late I’m sure –
    On the morrow he will leave me, where my gaming has gone often before.”
    Then the bird said, “Just another level more”.

  • X-fag, fagbot 360… you hear the taunts running around in your head, having always despised the 360 you finally gave it a chance, not an actual chance mind you, you did win it in a competition. but now you understand, you finally get it, THIS is why people use this service, THIS is why people pay a monthly subscription fee, you have been sitting in your Ps3 tower for far too long, and slowly but surely you have let your guard down.. maybe the 360 is’nt really so bad after all, maybe, in fact it is the system that will refresh your love of gaming, Maybe, just Maybe, this is exactly what you always needed.

  • With each step he took, he felt himself descending deeper into a never-ending room of shadow. He thought to himself that their must be light somewhere to guide him out, but each minute caused the seed of doubt inside him to blossom. Walls covered in tainted paintings, too worn with age to decipher. Step after step along the floorboards until suddenly he felt nothing below him. He fell for what felt like hours. Gradually he became to feel walls closing in around until there was nothing. Slowly, his eyes opened. He became aware of his surroundings. A hospital bed. He breathed a sigh of relief, surely this reality is better than where he was?

  • I stumble through the bush, frantically looking for an escape. Morning mist and the labyrinth of trees stand in my way. My head darts left and right. I trust my instincts to get me to safety; it’s the only thing I can rely on. I find a small clearing and lean on a trunk, trying to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.

    They came for us at daybreak. Without warning they swarmed my home. These beasts were fast and unrelenting. They slaughtered my family before my eyes. I somehow was able to slip through and flee the horror. Their ungodly howls echo in my mind.

    A rustle of leaves distracts me. I lick the air with my forked tongue. Humans, they are close.

  • Isaac was always quiet, horrified to silence. Looking up at me with those wide, fear-gouged eyes I could see the dreadfulness those dreams plagued him with. The room itself was littered with his dreamscapes: Disembodied, mutated people awash in foreign symbols. I eased those nightmarish images away from him, forever.

    Edward was the inquisitive of the two, and held a keen mind to mythological lore and varies histories. He… I had to ease from the nightmares that would plague his sense of knowledge.

    Miku, my dear wife, had already lost her only brother and now our children, but phantoms will bother her no longer now. She will be restful now.

    My name is Alan. All of this has happened before and it will happen again. I did this for them.

  • I suddenly realized I was in a video game, weapon statistics flashing in the corner of my eye, repetitively shooting enemy after enemy while performing unrealistic leaps of skill. Funny…it was the worst fate I could ever think of.

  • Nobody saw it coming. It was supposed to change our life. A revolutionary creation that would have transformed our traditional lifestyle. Alas, it was not meant to be.

    We knew all along that there was something sinister working behind this. You do not to get to play with this kind of power and expect no consequences. But we were all foolishly blinded by this new creation. Nobody thought that one simple thing would cause rampage all over the world. Nobody was prepared when it struck them. Nobody understood how it happened. Nobody, saw it coming.

    The Red Ring of Death.

  • Daniel fell to his knees, retching onto the slick asphalt. Luke stared blankly into the middle distance, oblivious to the rain as it quickly soaked through his clothes.

    “What the fuck happened in there?” Ash’s voice cracked with panic, her eyes screaming as she demanded answers.

    Luke slowly turned his head until she could see the numbness in his face.

    “Haven’t you figured it out yet?” his voice was a detached monotone “We caused this.”

    Ash shook her head, uncomprehending.

    “Reaper was our project.”

    The words hung heavy in the cold night air of the rain soaked parking lot.

  • James stared dumbly at the shard of metal protruding from his thigh, as blood bloomed from his flesh. He could feel himself going into shock, and he knew there was nothing he could do about it. The air was thick with dust that stung his eyes as they struggled to focus. Somewhere a siren was sounding, but the noise was oddly muffled by the ringing in his hears. His thoughts were desperately slow as he tried, in vein, to make some sense of what had happened.

    A single clear thought fought its way into his consciousness.

    “Someone tried to kill me.”

  • The nurses at the hospital had known from the beginning. Not just because his mother had died in childbirth, but from the deepness of his eyes, his jet black hair, and his bleach pale skin. There was something amiss with this child, his touch was cold, and his nostrils flared with each little breath.

    His father took up the responsibility of raising the child. A worse candidate I could not conjure. A drunk; abusive and manipulative, shaped the child’s evil through relentless beatings. Perhaps this is when the child began to recess deep into his mind, attempting to channel some destructive force for protection. A desperate plea for salvation from some greater being.

    The prayer had been answered.

  • The monstrosity that was Carter’s wife dragged itself across the cold linoleum floor. Gritting his teeth, carter watched her draw closer, her mouth working its words through a palpating mess of blood and gore. A raspy hiss, a sound like cutter, but more familiar, slurred and husky, percussed by a sickening snick of teeth on bone. She was trying to say his name. Carter tightened his grip, shut his eyes and brought the axe down hard against his wife’s white neck. “I’ll always love you sunshine,” he whispered into the silence.

  • The basement. That’s where I have to keep her.

    I’ve known Alison for years, all through our childhood and as we grew into our young adult years. The pretentious little bitch. Her and her friends, always laughing at me, always mocking me.The hatred and resentment I held for her for so many years.
    But I only realised recently that its wasn’t hatred that churned in the pit of my stomach for her. It was love.
    I love Alison. And I know she can love me. She will see.

    So I took her.
    When her back was turned I bashed her in the back of her fucking head and took her. Now she is mine.

    She sits in front of me. Her clothes and her skin, filthy from being dragged across my yard.
    Her hands bound behind her back. Her left foot chained to the furnace. I mustn’t risk losing her. I must be careful.

    I had to silence her screams when she first awoke. She wouldn’t stop screaming. I was scared we would be discovered. So I hit her. I hit her and hit her until the screams stopped.
    Now, the only sound she makes is the gasping, sucking of air through her nostrils. The duct tape over her lips holding back her cries of anguish.

    I tell her its all ok, that she will be safe with me. That she can trust me.
    I tell her that I don’t want to have to hurt her.

    She looks at me, her eyes wide with fear. Trails of hundreds of dried tears which have run down her face. Her eyes plead to me. Beg me.

    I tell her that I love her and I tell her that she will one day love me too, as I sponge the blood from her hair.

  • It’s been 5 long years in this round of console wars with no end in sight.

    The battle has been tough, gone through 2 360 units and the 3rd is showing signs of failure.
    The Wii with weaker hardware is in many numbers but we are starting to pull them back while the PS3 has brought out a new slim machine that is cheaper, packs a lot of hardware and is starting to make a stance on the battlefield.

    The war is heating up. New control upgrades are coming out.

    See you at the battle of E3

  • I couldn’t see past my hands, a silhouette was approaching. Running for the door, I found myself knee deep in a mass of furniture I had previously thrown to the ground. The figure was coming closer, I couldn’t hear what it was trying to gasp from its writhing mouth. At this time of night, my only motivation was to sleep. There was no way I could return to the depths of that the figure had emerged from. I could make out the garbled words from the demonic brute I had devoted my life to ten years prior. “Come back to bed Alan! And quit monologuing!”

  • There’s a draft in the room. His fingers feel numb, his face burns and he regrets running the whole way in the middle of winter. His clothes are sogged by a thin layer of sweat and now a chill saps his very life from him. He’s left stiff as though there’s a rod against his spine as every muscle huddles together. His body is pleading for warmth. His teeth chatter as he reaches out to find his bearings. In his search for a refuge he takes his chances with an old house. To a desperate man it’s doors seem larger and it’s walls impenetrable but now he’s trapped in a pitch black box and fumbling to try and find a light switch. His fingers don’t find one but something in the room turns on. Whirling fans blare like a jet exhaust and on the other side of the room his eyes meet something unexpected and he knows his luck has run out: Three red lights.

    (Just like the protagonist my luck ran out yesterday)

  • Why is this covered in blood?

    [Chapter 1]

    My father loved to drink, more than he loved his own son. When my friends were outside playing catch with their dads, I was inside watching mine demolish another bottle of fine malt whiskey.

    [Chapter 2]

    He would always get angry after a few glasses, and he enjoyed taking his anger out on me. It usually started with a few slaps to face and ended with a gut-wrenching kick that did a good job of ensuring I wouldn’t shit right for a week.

    [Chapter 3]

    Perhaps that’s why I took pleasure in cutting his face with a piece of jagged glass. A glass shard I had scooped up after I smashed his empty Jack Daniels bottle across his skull. He wasn’t supposed to die, but once I started I couldn’t stop. Just like he couldn’t stop after one glass of that vile brown liquid.

    [Chapter 4]

    They locked me up, of course. Declared me insane. My doctor tells me I have to use this pen to express my feelings on paper, but I can’t. I’m without feelings. My father took them away when he stole my childhood. When the doctor comes back to read this I’m going to shove this pen straight through his eye and drive it as far into head as possible.


    If you were wondering why this letter is covered in blood, now you know.

  • The car pulled off the darkened street. Eric dragged himself from the car, struggling as usual with his briefcase. A slow shuffle up the path beneath the old oak tree to the front door was greeted with a few drops of rain. The big fat drops that preceded a downpour.

    “Awww shoot” said Eric as he stated an awkward jog, his briefcase clutched to his chest. Fumbling with his keys at the door Eric tasted a salty metallic tang on his lips. Running a hand over his balding scalp, something felt wrong. Rain doesn’t feel like that. Touching his fingers to his lips confirmed the taste. With rising fear Eric pushed through the door.

    “Oh God…. Janet!…..”

  • The bonds were too tight. Her shoulders burned with pain in contrast to her cold too-numb hands. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck and sometimes the wetness of his probing tongue. The cold knife continued to dance lightly across her skin, stinging whenever it bit too deep.

    Almost at once, the pressure in her chest grew too great and she tried to scream. As in a dream, all that escaped was a hoarse gasp. Over in the darkness a quiet chuckle responded.

    “Nobody loves you like I do, Emily.”

  • She sat, crumpled in the corner on the floor, looking like little more than a discarded doll. Quietly singing a children’s nursery rhyme at barely more than a whisper, she gazed out through the rain-streaked windows.

    Turning slowly, she met my gaze from the floor with her blank eyes, devoid of even a flicker of recognition.

    The staff had warned me that I had to expect this more and more as the disease progressed.

    I stepped forward and gently placed the flowers on my mother’s bedside table, before turning and walking out of the room.

    I’d return to the hospital later, hope for a rare lucid moment, and try not to think about how her personality, memories and life were all slowly rotting away.

    Real ghosts don’t haunt houses. They haunt minds.

  • Al’s writer’s block grew as the midnight deadline loomed. He felt overwhelming pressure from his surroundings. Diverse and superbly crafted monsters, death and violence assailed him. Yet none were truly real. They could be bested. No, they had to be bested. He had only one man, known as Goose, to satisfy. But he’d failed so many times. His reviews were poor. His photos worse. He sighed and typed again. Deleted. Typed again. Why did he seek a free copy of this mysterious ring when one could be bought? Satisfying Goose was all he wanted. As the light inside him shone brightly, Al finished his manuscript, clicking the comment page with little hope. But he had to try.

  • I got shot up in a split second before falling down a hundred stories high. I felt my body flinch hard before I hit the floor and blacked out in an instant. But I was still alive…
    I woke up to a head spin, a racing heart and blank thoughts and it all seemed so normal. I didn’t know where I was but at the same time I was familiar with my surroundings. I slowly started to realise that something was up.

    I felt I was gaining control of my body again and wondered if maybe this was all just a dream, but my senses were telling my something else. I scan the area around me to find that the city was nothing but empty streets and hollow winds. “Hello” said the familiar voice. I turned around with haste to see who that voice belonged to… It was me. Frightened, I slowly started treading the path behind me as he was staring in to my eyes with his haunting face that slowly started to smile. I turn around slowly, preparing myself to run but he already started to follow. I gasp at the sudden crackle of the rock under my foot and began to run.

  • I was certain somebody watching me from behind, but couldn’t see anybody. Call it women’s intuition, call it paranoia, but I was certainly being watched. I increased my walk to a jog. It was getting dark, I was worried. Now I was sure I could hear footsteps, but I still couldn’t see anyone. I started running, and instantly wished I gone to the gym more. The footsteps were getting closer, how would I ever escape? My heart was pounding. If I wasn’t caught by whoever was chasing me I might surely drop dead from a heart attack!

  • The cars engine had died, typically in the darkest spot miles from my home. Now staring under the hood I hoped that years of playing Burnout and Grand Turismo had taught me a way to fix it … It hadn’t. Why had I gone to the midnight launch? My girlfriend had told me not to but how could I, it was the biggest game of the year.
    The forest around me groaned as the wind swayed century old branches making shadows dance all around me. I should have phoned for help but as I looked into the tree line I was transfixed. The darkness seemed alive and the more I tried not to stare at it the more my body refused to move. I felt my grip slacken, the phone smashed on the ground. I wanted to pick it up but the darkness was calling me. My body was being pulled into the darkness I stumbled like a zombie my mind screaming. And as I plunged into the pitch black of the forest it all went black.

  • Joanna stared at herself in the mirror, marveling at how hot she was. That short, thin pointy nose – how she loved it when it was mistaken for plastic – those jutting cheekbones, subtly sculpted to nestle her wide green eyes adorned with a crest of eyelash plumes. She smiled to see herself smile, and then smiled some more to see herself smile some more. To get closer to her perfection was a necessity, her self-confidence for the night needed to be absolute and assured. She slowly moved her head closer to the mirror, gauging how gorgeous she was at every distance, every centimeter, every millimeter. She smiled and could see her rounded white teeth, enveloped flawlessly amidst her delicate lips. She could see the gloss of her spit on them, the adorable triangles of her canines, the triangles of her other teeth, hear herself scream and feel her reflection’s hands on her.

    But the neighbors could only hear one women’s scream. The two ends of Joanna’s predicament, the spectrum of joy and sorrow both twirling through their ears and brains, maddened them so much, that when pulled open the apartment door and barged into Joanna’s bathroom door they saw a headless women slumped in the sink and did not hear Joanna’s embarrassed cries for them to GET OUT.

  • It was the night…

    I can’t be stuffed writing anything… thought I might want to after reading all the entries… but yeah…. bugger it.

    Give it to ‘Benjamin’, his entry gave me a chuckle.


    “Why’d I agree to this?”
    I ask myself.
    “Walking the perimeter of the abandoned estate?”
    Enveloped in heavy fog, lungs struggling to take in the thick night air. There’s a shuffling sound behind me. .
    “Not funny guys! You’re meant to wait at the gates!”
    It gets closer. I feel the presence of someone, something..
    I stop, listening. Nothing. I hasten my pace, heart pounding loudly in my chest.
    “Not far now, I’ve done it!”
    I think, grinning. I make out the shapes of the large gates and my awaiting friends. ALL of my friends. Suddenly I feel an icey cold hand on my shoulder. I spin 180 degrees, to face…myself.

  • …and when he woke up in the morning…she was still in his bed!!!


    And then she wanted to make him eggs!!!

    Ahhh Ahhhhh

    And then he said, oh no I don’t have time I have a meeting at twelve thirty, and she said I’ll drive you there!!!

    Ahhh Ahhhhhh Ahhhhh

    And he said, no no, it’s at my office, it’s like a half hour commute, and she said, I don’t mind it’s on the way to my kids pre-school!!!


  • (I’m not sure if I posted this and it got moderated away, or I just forgot to post it. I’m assuming the latter hopefully as I have no better ideas.)

    Linda screamed. The dense crowd’s atmosphere shifted -comforting numbers became condensed panic. Blinded by waves of people, desperate and running, she could barley breath let alone escape the human throng. Screams and shouts that only moments before cheered on Justin Beiber had transformed to shrill cries of thirteen year old terror as the singer revealed himself to the audience. Linda and her friends could not have foreseen the ambush until the mask fell down and he spread his claws, preening his brown fur, jumping into the audience as the culmination of his years long plan.
    Justin Beiber was merely a disguised pedobear- and the pedobear was amongst them, reaping what only silly tweens could sow.

  • Apologies if this is a double post. I tried to find my entry but couldn’t.

    It started with the damn insect bite. I dunno what kind of insect bit me, all I knew was that my arm was itchy as hell. Scratched it so much it bled and it still itched. It cleared up. But then the itch came back. I could feel it there, a niggling tickling sensation that grew and grew. I went to the doctors. He said it was fine. The itch was all in my head. Damn quack. More and more often I relented to scratch it. At first it brought relief but soon that stopped. So itchy. Then I could feel the movement. Something was under the skin, creeping and crawling. That’s what was causing the itch. I grabbed a razor blade, one of those triple protection ones that cost way too much. I try to pry it apart to get to the blade but just end up repeatedly slicing my fingers. I toss the blood covered head in to the trash and pull apart my kitchen drawers till I find what I’m looking for. A box cutter knife. I use a dinner knife to unscrew the holding pin, the spare blades scatter on the floor. I only need one. I sink the blade deep in to my arm. Nothing. I can still feel them. They’re panicking. So am I. I start to hack at my arm, gouging out huge chunks but it’s too late. I can feel them moving up my arm. I drag the blade up, slicing through the flesh as I go. I jump ahead to beat them, slashing at my throat and chest. I push my fingers in to my parted flesh and try to get them out but there is so much blood and it’s getting so dark that I can barely see. I collapse on to the floor. The adrenalin is wearing off and I’m in so much pain. But the itch… The itch is gone. I laugh triumphantly as I slip in to a dark, dreamless, itchless sleep.

  • Sophie sat on the family room couch, her elbow on the arm rest and her head rested on her first, as she half paid attention to what was on TV. Her Farther was in his study finishing up some work for the next day and her Mother was in bed reading a book. Her younger brother was the only other on in the room with her, on the edge of his sit as he watched what ever it was on TV. Sophie mentally shook her head and focused on the TV show that had her brother so enthralled. Medium, that show about the psychic woman who helped the police, based on a real woman or so Sophie had been lead to believe.
    “What’s happening?” Sophie asked her brother.
    “Serial Killer now shut up” he replied waving his arm at her to indicate she should, as he had said, shut up.
    “I’m worried about the Andersons” the Medium woman, Alison, said to her husband as the lay in bed “who ever they are the serial killer said he would get them next”
    “Same name as us” Sophie said.
    “Shhhh” Her Brother replied waving his hand at her again.
    “I know honey but there’s nothing you can do at the moment. We don’t know anything about them but their last name. Now please can we get some sleep I’ve got to get to the office early tomorrow” Her husband said as he pulled the blanket up around him.
    “Good night” Alison said as she rolled onto her side and fell asleep.
    The scene on the TV changed to the first person perspective of a person driving a car, this was one of Alison’s dreams.
    The car was driving down a small street in the suburbs, nice looking houses on either side.
    “That looks like our street” Sophie said.
    “Shut up” Her Brother yelled.
    “Oy, You kids be quite” Her Father yelled from his study.
    Back on the TV the car pulled up with a loud screech outside one of the houses, the screech being much louder then it should of been and it was several seconds before Sophie relised they had been a real car screeching out side the same time as the one on the TV.
    On the TV, still in first person, who ever it was in the car got out and started to walk towards the house the car was parked infront of.
    The figure glanched momentarily at the mail box as they walked beside it. It read “Anderson, 26”.
    “Hay that’s our mail box” Sophie said alarmed. This time her Brother didn’t tell her to shut up, he was looking alarmed to.
    The figure on TV was walking across the lawn now to the front door. A red bike was laying in the grass.
    “That’s your bike” Sophie said, panic rising in her voice.
    “Dad” Yelled her Brother “Dad”
    “Shut Up” Her Father yelled from the study.
    The figure on TV had reached the front door and rang to door bell.
    Ring, Ring, from both the TV and the front door.
    Ring, Ring.
    “Someone get that” Her Dad called out.
    Her Brother glanced at her, “What do we do?” he asked.
    “You stay here and watch the TV, I’ll go answer the door” She said getting up of the couch.
    As she walked out into the hallway she heard her Brother whisper, “be careful” he said.
    As She slowly walked down the hallway the doorbell rang again.
    “Is anyone going to get that” Her Dad yelled out.
    “I am” Sophie yelled back, her voice strangely strong giving how scared she was feeling inside.
    Sophie reached the front door and placed her hand on the knob. She quickly glanced through the small, oval shaped windows located on the door. She thought she could see a shape through them but couldn’t be sure.
    Taking a deep breath she opened the door and…
    Nothing. There was no one there.
    “Who is it?” Her Dad called out.
    “No one” Sophie yelled back as she closed the door.
    She made her way back down the hallway and into the family room. She glanced at her Brother as she entered, a little smile on her face.
    “The person on the TV hid against the outside wall of the house after they rang the bell the second time” Her Brother said with a terrified look on his face “The girl who answered yelled out that there was no one there before closing the door”.
    Sophie felt fear rising in her chest as she glanced at the TV, an ad break was on.
    Her Brother suddenly smiled “The girl who answered the TV wasn’t you though, it was a little kid”.
    Sophie felt the fear in her chest disappear, in it’s place anger rose. She grabbed a pillow of the couch and threw it at her brother, hitting him in the middle of his stupid grinning face.
    She then smiled to and settled back down on the couch to watch the rest of the show.

  • Words cannot describe how happy I felt when I finally heard the doorbell ring. Upon opening it I was greeted by a Kotaku employee.

    “Congratulations here is the Xbox 360 you won”, he said as he grasped a large parcel.

    My mind was in a euphoric state, it took several seconds for my body to respond and reach out to grab the box. In that moment that something odd happened.

    “I’m sure you will love it to death”, he said with a sinister grin.

    After hooking it all up, to my horror I was welcomed with three flashing red lights.

  • It had started. He had little time before they would catch up to him…he felt sick just thinking what they would do once they did.

    “You sick bastards,” he muttered to himself, “trapping us and hunting us for your enjoyment. Not me…you’re not getting me.”

    He ran through the seemingly endless maze, trying to find anything that he could arm himself with against them. Rounding the corner he saw one of them.

    “Crap…was I spotted?” he thought to himself. Peering around the corner, he saw the hunter closing in on his position. He ran as fast as he could, even more desperate now for something to use against them.

    “Shit, a dead end.” It was over, they were so close now…until he saw something out of the corner of his eye, something he could use against them.

    As they drew nearer, he stood still waiting for the precise moment to pick up the weapon and use it. They were now literally in front of his face, he picked up the weapon…

    ”Now it’s my turn.”


  • Umm.. How come no one is sticking to the 100 word limit? Its clearly stated in the rules

    “The manuscript pages in Alan Wake are NEVER longer than 100 words. So that’s your guide”

    lol @ the invalid entries

      • I agree with this, obviously you wont discount for 101, but some entries are clearly 200+ words. Im hesistant to write a big story only to find its discredited

  • The scene was familiar, the debris somehow comforting. A flicker in her senses led her to the crumpled body of a young man, sprawled awkwardly across the twisted ruin of a metal girder. Still alive.

    She pulled out her paramedics kit, filling her syringe. The liquid rose up from the needle.

    It was clear. Colourless.

    Not blue.

    It should have been blue…

    With a cry, she dropped the syringe as the long-repressed memory jabbed itself into her waking consciousness- and suddenly she was a little girl again, drawing EVE from a sightless, rotting corpse in the bowels of Rapture.

  • The alarm lights flickered.
    I realised this was my first time unassisted, no one to point out my mistakes, no one to tell me how to demist the windows. I wanted independence and here it was.

    Keys in the ignition, I made haste home with all the side windows down and front once again steadily fogging up. Against the darkness I passed a dimly lit street light, underneath a crumbling makeshift wooden cross and a decomposed bouquet of flowers.

    Paranoia set in, flashes of police lights, blood stained glass and I slumped in a jail cell corrupted my mind. Parked on my driveway reeling from those thoughts, I stared at the dashboard and it finally dawning on me, the headlights were never on.

  • The moon was a mere gash, thin and pale against the pitch black sky, barely giving enough light to see by, the night was unusually quiet, without a sound beyond his own footfalls as he headed toward his unknown fate.

    They kept coming, silvery eyes rimmed in blood red, red rings of death that flitted in and out of the very edges of his peripheral vision. He had never saw what was hunting him, every time he turned to look, they melted into the shadow, unseen until he turned back, then once again the eyes would haunt his vision, herding him forward, matching his speed, never slowing, never hastening, but never stopping, forcing him eastward. Suddenly two pairs of the eyes sprinted forth, and disappeared around a bend on the path, giving a glimpse of black fur as they burst through a sliver of moonlight.

    An inhuman cry of triumph rang out, as the creatures began yipping like excited dogs, coming home to their master…

  • The chain was not too tight around my throat to hinder escaping screams, but I stood silently anyway. My struggles had long ago died away, the burdening body I found myself in was still breathing, but I had already ceased to be alive.

    Fear had given me no strength, it had fed on the little courage I possessed, growing inside of me, twisting and consuming the light in my soul. I had been turned towards a world of darkness, a world of death, a world I would enter quietly, defeated, beaten, and thankful my tortured existence was finally over.

  • At 3:24 a.m. they arrived. Jay struggled to sit upright in bed, exhausted by a dragging sleep filled with the forms of ancient creatures. His post-sleep grumbling was quickly replaced by panic as the alien light penetrated the thick curtains of his room, flooding everything in a pale luminescence.

    Jay stumbled from the bed and lurched into the hallway, his naked silhouette bouncing off the wall as he struggled to order his footwork. The haunting light pulsed rhythmically, a beacon for the Otherworlders. Jay thumped into the backdoor, fumbling with the deadlock, hoping to escape into the woods beyond the homestead.

    Jay opened the door and screamed.

  • Darkness was encroaching on the final quadrant of the sky as he eventually arrived at the end of the driveway; cut from dense pine and snaking, like a rope gone slack up the side of the mountain. Only the stubborn remnants of dusk, a smear of indigo, remained to his right. The embossed invitation sat uncomfortably in his hand, and on his mind. The host was an important client of the firm, but why the unrequited show of generosity?

    After parking among a row of glamorous cars, he approached the entrance, and pushed the heavy cedar door open. Inside the foyer stood stunning men and women surrounding the host, his face more gaunt than ever. They all turned to look at the new arrival, and after a pause of deafening quietness, the host uttered,

    “Finally, we can begin the feast”.

  • I opened the card with a smile; after all I’d never found a bunch of flowers and a card on my kitchen table before.

    “I long for the night so in my dreams I can be with you
    I long for the day so I can look at you too
    It hurts me so much that you don’t know my name
    I left flowers in your house but it’s not the first time I came
    In death for eternity we can talk face to face
    I’m behind you and together we will meet death’s embrace”

    Startled I turned arou –

    It was too late.

  • As he sat motionless in the dark, the hairs on his neck stood on end and he felt an unstoppable urge to shiver that could mean only one thing. He tried to imagine that he hadn’t heard the window breaking upstairs. He closed his eyes and strained to hear that which he feared most.

    A footstep.

    It was well after midnight now, and he knew that somehow the …things had found him. He put his hand to his side and gently stroked her hair, picked up the cricket bat, and silently rose.

    “I ain’t goin’ without a fight, you bastards.”

  • “The Beautiful Princess”

    Once upon a time there was a girl who longed to be beautiful. She wanted to go to the ball, but had nothing but rags. And so, with three faithful friends, the girl set off. Along the way, they met a wolf, who said:

    “Feed me one friends, and I will make you beautiful.”

    So the girl did what she had to do, and her friend was torn to pieces.

    “There,” said the wolf, as he licked the bones. “Your dress is now a beautiful blood red.”

    Pleased with the fine shade of her dress, the girl set off with two faithful friends. Along the way met a witch, who said:

    “Give me one friend, and I will make you beautiful.”

    So the girl did what she had to do, and her friend was thrown in a pot.

    “There” said the witch, handing her a flask
    “Your cheeks can now be a beautiful blood red”

    Marveling at the bright colours of her cheeks, the girl set off with one faithful friend. When they arrived at the ball, the guard at the entrance cried out:

    “Halt! Young lass, slay this one friend, to prove you are beautiful.”

    So the girl did what she had to do, and buried her friend alive.

    So the girl entered the ball alone, with rosy cheeks and a beautiful dress, that were the envy of all. ‘How could she look so stunning?’ they asked.

    Oh how beautiful has this girl become!

  • After scrambling through endless wheat stalks Jonas came abruptly to the road. It gleamed faintly in the light of the moon, it’s very mundaneness, jarring and somehow alien. The gravel crunch underfoot was a welcome sound, anchoring him in the present.
    It wouldn’t be long.
    As the grasses parted a scant twenty meters behind him Jonas began to pant. The chilling nasal whicker let forth by the creature seemed to pierce his ears and drive splinters into his skull.The thing closed the remaining distance in a susurration of sound.
    It burst onto the road, tearing at the ground in it’s haste to reach him. With another feral cry the creature leapt upon him. Jonas raised and fired in an adrenalin fueled motion. His first shot, fright-powered, kicked wide, the second, smacked solidly into the torso of the creature as it landed full on him.
    They fell. Motion ceased.
    After a while the hushed crickets stirred into song again.
    There was movement.
    Jonas crouched low on all fours and whickered. The crickets ceased, unwilling to be heralds of death.
    It was time to hunt.

  • Alcheim Reads Aloud…

    I watch her from the window thirteen flights up in the sky.
    She gazes in the mirror but can’t see me where I hide.

    “Alcheim”, she stops affronted, uncertain of what it means.
    T’was in fact a ploy of mine, seeded in her recent dreams.

    I steal her, and break her, and taste her hatred deep inside.
    The curse invoked from thoughts she spoke; the words that make her die.

    Her mangled corpse, I’ve no remorse and now the deed is done.
    “Alcheim…” I hear, -and that’s makes three; another curse begun

    I toss aside her battered mind, and once again take flight.
    You’ve called me thrice, say your goodbyes… I’ll come for you tonight

  • For every night, a nightmare. It had been many nights since a gypsy had looked into Bermenjo’s eyes and promised him that. She hadn’t been wrong since.

    And she wasn’t wrong tonight. Bermenjo looked down at the body of the young girl slumped across boardwalk. That old wood was slick with rain and slick with blood, stemming from a hole where the girl’s stomach once was. Bermenjo could see a dozen eggs in there, all bigger than his fists.

    Another night, another nightmare. But Bermenjo had a promise of his own. For every nightmare… an awakening.

  • The heavy snow fell across the forest like a blanket. He raised his revolver, twirling it as he went.

    “Don’t… kill me” she gasped, staring down the barrel of the gun, fear burning in her eyes.

    “I have too” he replied, before pulling the trigger. The silver blast of death shot across the three metre gap, tearing through her bones, and driving deep into her heart. She fell without a sound, her blood soaking the snow a heavy red.

    His stony eyes showed no remorse as he turned away, pocketing the gun used for the deed. Job well done.

  • My first posts didn’t show up, so sorry if this is a double post!

    Manuscript: “The Beautiful Princess” (Just over 100 words)

    Once there lived a girl in rags who wanted to be beautiful. So, she set off with two faithful friends to a grand ball. Along the way, they met a wolf:

    “Feed me one friend and you will be beautiful.”

    So the girl did what she had to do, and her friend was torn to pieces.

    “Your dress is now a beautiful crimson.” said the wolf, as he licked the bones.

    The girl and a faithful friend then met a witch:

    “Give me one friend, and you will be beautiful.”

    So the girl did what she had to do, and her friend was thrown in a pot.

    “Your cheeks are now a beautiful scarlet” said the witch, rubbing her cheeks with the pot’s substance.

    And so the girl arrived at the ball, alone and the envy of all.

    Oh how beautiful this girl has become!

    • Oh no! I thought it didn’t go through, (hence I cut the length down a bit more as a second edit). Can you please accept this one instead of the one above? The one above is a bit longer, so I cut it down – the second one is a lot less 🙂 Please accept the second (edited) version. Thanks so much!

  • The window shuddered and the door creaked. He knew it was only the wind, but it didn’t dull the sense of foreboding that was slowly growing within him. He heard a crack outside the window and got up from his armchair to see what had made the sound.

    A broken branch lay on the ground. Good, obviously just the wind. So why couldn’t he seem to get rid of this feeling, of this sense of inevitability, as though something terrible was going to happen.

    He turned around, why was the front door open, and why was there a clown in his chair?

  • Bodies everywhere. The bodies of the innocent, slaughtered with only sorrow left on their faces …I see one last child sitting on the swings, moving back and forth, ominously. From what light remains, the look in eyes screams for more blood. More blood to paint this dead playground as a canvas – his masterpiece. He moves. I remain. He stares. Knife in hand. My heart beats. The chains from the swing rattle harder and harder, as though they follow the way my heart sounds. He stands. I can’t bring myself to turn away. To move. To run.

    …I don’t want to end up like those children.

  • I’d seen him earlier, at least I think it was him. He was playing poker with Lando Ricketts and that Muller guy.

    In any case, here I was, tied up like a wanted criminal and slung over the back of a white stallion, kicking and screaming. Nobody around to hear it save for armadillos and cougars.

    When we finally stopped, I realised my fate. He grabbed me and threw me down on the tracks, I struggled to break free but it was useless. I saw his face for a brief moment, grinning smugly.

    And then it hit me…

  • The noise in the walls stay incessantly with me as I walk towards my room. It chases me like an itch in the back of your brain that will cause goosebumps if you ever manage to open your skull and scratch it with your nails, like something crawling in there.
    The room is a typical cheap motel setup like those in the movies with a bright neon light right outside the window. Great, just what my head needs.

    Sleep brings no comfort as the noise moves behind me, then crawls above only to find itself beneath my bead, moving everytime like a last agonising breath. Three hours of the scratching and I can’t take it anymore!

    I turn and pummel my fist through the wall. As I pull my hand out expecting my sore fist to be bloody and full of wall pieces, instead it is full of a black puss, thick and gunky, dripping onto my dirty sheets. Through the wall I struggle to see the expected broken pipe only to find a soothing silence lulled by a strangely seducing emptiness.

    I near it and it shifts suddenly, leaving a wailing screech behind as it rapidly moves up to the lamp bringing it crashing down to the middle of the bed where it crawls into the hole in the roof. I stare at it for what seems an eternity. I suddenly realise that it now is behind me…

  • A blood curdling scream escaped his lips that was alien even to his own ear, he was paralysed in the moment. His mind struggled with the reality of the situation.

    The darkness of the room began to unsettle him and outside the full moon shimmered brightly with seemingly mocking arrogance. But beyond those walls, was the rest of the world; anything but that! The crackle of the fire no longer warmed him and his heart started to succumb to his minds tricks, racing in tempo with each passing second.

    The fear began to fade, but despair was waiting to take its place; the siren had sounded and his team had lost.

  • …liquored queerness exhaled upon her vision, oblique delineations of morphous formations.Somewhere amongst this ambling miscarriage of sight lay her husband; countenance asunder of the like that daren’t be observed. His sight had been far removed, a sheath obsfucating the mottled linear texture of the metal by his flaccid nude form.

    Acclimation befouled her senses, the syncopated cuckoo on the wall reaching for her as she reached for him, fractal hues adhering to a co-ordinated rate of clarity. No more did his hand warm and comfort her, no further could she separate the metal of unity and the flesh encapsulating the pragmatism that would shield her from the wet drawl resonating from the doorway.

  • Grikka runs his hand gently over the thick plastic surface, feels the gel inside flutter under his caress. He glances down the long banks of bags, strung from the ceiling like meat just slaughtered.
    It is a punishment for them – to be bagged alive and awake – to be hung. Sentences may be cut to the quick, six months conscious but immobile and helpless, fed through tubes directly into the stomach. Enough to convince any person that crime doesn’t pay.
    Slowly he unzips the bag; the impact gel sits for a moment before cascading out onto the grating floor, bringing its burden with it. She is curled foetal, a baby reborn coughing and spluttering in the dark and cold, so far removed from the pristine walls and climate control of her first birth.

  • After spending just one night in Bali we made a visit to the Midnight Oil restaurant which we ordered a mushroom omlette. We later found out it was a “magic” mushroom omlette. We walked back to the hotel in a total daze not being aware of what was going on around us. We then had the night from hell. Not only did we both wet our beds we had a “out of body” experience which we saw ourselves floating from the ceiling looking down upon ourselves on the bed. We kept yelling for help but was met with laughter.

  • The moon was a mere gash in the night sky, barely providing enough light to see by. The night was abnormally quiet, with no sound beyond his footfalls.

    Silvery eyes rimmed in blood red, flitted in and out of the very edge of his peripheral vision, red rings of death that haunted his steps. For hours they had dogged him, driving him eastward, never slowing, nor hastening, but never stopping. Eventually they came to a bend in the path. Suddenly two of the creatures broke away, dashing through a sliver of moonlight, giving him a brief glimpse of dark fur.

    An unnatural triumphant cry roared through the forest, the creatures started yipping excitedly, like dogs returning to their master, and it sounded hungry…

    *This is a resubmission as my original submission doesn’t seem to have popped up yet and want to ensure it actually submitted (#comment-130046 posted sometime around 5:20pm), this is basically the same though I managed to shave of some wordage (had to rewrite cause I didn’t back it up anywhere) disregard if original pops up*

  • One overcast evening in late summer, the air was heavy but chaotic. I exited my apartment, noticing a woman staring vacantly across the street, her hand joined with that of a young boy. I passed, hesitating for a moment to follow her gaze. She was watching a man standing at the window of a café. I studied him, his face indistinct through the veiling nightfall and his eyes threatening. I resumed my course, disconcerted. No sooner had I taken several steps, than the distressed cries of the boy filled my ears. Facing back, I was met with a powerful heat – the café was caught in flames. The boy now stood alone, his mother’s dark eyes staring back at him through the fire.

  • A lonely ray of light from the night’s eye shone through the empty room upon his sin. Heaven’s judgemental finger could not reach his soulless eyes where the darkness enveloped him in a blanket of secrecy.

    With weapon in hand, his grasp loosened as cold sweat dripped from his palms. A single gaze upon his victim’s worldly remains stained with the colour of madness reminded him of his grim and ruthless act.

    His mind turned blank, and left in its wake, a white fury unleashed by breaking the chains of morality. Haunted by the effortless walk through the circle of Hell, he expected only the fear of not comprehending the unconscionable power he possessed; but that was not so…

    He was relieved.



    He was… a gamer.

  • …liquored queerness exhaled upon her vision, oblique delineations of polymorphous formations presenting themselves as Picasso caricature. Somewhere amongst this ambling miscarriage of sight lay her husband; countenance asunder of the like that daren’t be observed.
    His sight had been far removed, reduced to a sheath, obsfucating the mottled linear texture of the metal by which his flaccid nude form lay.

    Sensory acclimation befouls her, the syncopated cuckoo on the wall reaching out for her as she reaches for him; fractal hues aggregating to an approaching clarity amd focus.
    No more did his hand warm and comfort her, no further could she separate the metal of unity and the flesh encapsulating the pragmatic being. A being that could shield her from the bearer of that wet.. draaaawl and suck.. resonating from the doorway.

  • He knew it had to be this way, he had known it since he could remember. Running had only been an escape from the relentless inevitability which he had only now begun to accept.
    Sliding in and out of consciousness, the floor fell away from his feet and the cold, unforgiving ground met his head in a devastating blow that sent vibrations through his being.
    It was near. He could hear its patient advance through the malignant silence which now mercilessly enveloped his world.
    A cold sensation trailed its way up his spine sending shivers invading every inch of his motionless body. Pallid fingers slithered passed his ear, and over his trembling mouth, caressing the warm flesh that so disconcertingly contrasted the cadaverous appendages now consuming his face.
    From the peripheral of his fading vision, the magnificent glint of a moving stannic object, reflecting two opaque orbs whose indifferent gaze beckoned his powerless obedience, and as his skull pacifically gave way, his eyes proceeded to match without flaw those which had forever envisaged his demise.
    From the corpse ran a magnificent flood, silent and graceful as the floor was consumed under its glistening expanse. It danced dangerously against the bleached white walls, creating irrational chaos, now free from its once harmonic existence.

  • I knew this place.
    Muffled children’s laughter pierced the fog, echoed from the courtyard walls and all was silent.
    Nostalgia overshadowed by deathly gloom.
    A violent breeze swept across the porch and sent an icey chill down my spine.
    I was a stranger here, unwelcome.
    I wasn’t myself, only fear remained, begging me to tear myself away but from somewhere within I was compelled to go inside.
    My steps were heavy as my feet carried me to the door, and my heart tensed with every step.
    I clasped the doorknob, cold brass under my numbing fingers.
    The old door moaned, rudely awakened after an eternity of slumber.
    I stepped inside, another groan and the door closed behind me with a thud.
    Unable to see I stepped forward, my steps soft on carpet. A musty dank odor overcame me.
    As my eyes began to adjust to the darkness I made out the ghostly silhouettes of covered furniture.
    The wind howled outside, whispers of sorrowful spirits.
    I felt exposed in the dark, watched.
    I found the banister and my gaze followed it up to the top of the stairs to tall shape, blacker than any starless night.
    And then to my terror it beckoned to me…

  • My headache persisted as the winter days ensued. It became apparent as the nights became longer, my will to leave the bed weakened.
    The sign appeared two days later.
    I was indulging in another one of those dreams where the surroundings change with your will when a dull thud rudely interrupted. Just as I was cursing whoever it was that ruined this rare occasion, the noise drew closer and closer, to the point I could literally sense the hostility in the air.
    CRACK! A black object crashed through my glass window, bringing with it blasts of freezing wind. As much as I would like to continue my sleep, it was now impossible to ignore this incident.
    Turning on the light, I discovered a most unthinkable thing on my carpet together with a message. It was a PlayStation 3 and on it a piece of paper attached reads:
    “Why wasn’t Alan Wake released on PS3?”

  • My eyes feel heavy, my vision blurry, but I advance regardless. Sleep is for the weak, and the weak won’t survive tonight. I trudge through the forest over the fallen villagers, their bodies mangled and consumed by the monsters I hunt. I can no longer see the floor below me, the thickening trees block out what little moonlight there is, now only instinct guides my foot.
    Through the thick forest I can see a far off light. I run towards it, with only the sound of the foliage underfoot to break up the deafening silence of the night. The light comes closer, and closer still. Suddenly I hear a strange whirring sound as the world around me comes to a grinding halt. I try to move but to no avail, drastic measures would be needed to continue. I press the power button and the room goes dark, the console comes back to life and red light washes over the room. I find myself looking into the eye of a true demon, and that when I knew, I wouldn’t survive this night.

  • There was a tugging on my blanket, gradually wakening me to the early hours of the morning. With a sudden rush of awareness I realized my four year old daughter, Anna, stood at the bedside. “Dad, Dad, wake up please”, she whispered.

    “What’s up kiddo? Nightmares?”, I asked.

    “Sssh!”, she hissed, “You’ll wake up the monster!”

    I laughed softly. “There’re no monsters here. Do you want me to put you back to bed?”

    I sat up in bed. Anna withdrew in horror. “You’re going to wake up the monster. Don’t move… Don’t move!” she whispered frantically. “The monster in mummy’s skin will wake up!”

    The sheets rustled behind me and Anna ran, shrieking, toward the door.

  • I turned around to hear her screaming in the water being ripped apart by the sharks. I wanted to go in there and help but then…. i saw the key.

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