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Linear Stories Contest for May

 
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Shady Stoat
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 24, 2006 10:46 am    Post subject: Linear Stories Contest for May Reply with quote

Time for April's competition:

You will have about 3 weeks to write a short story, edit it, and post it for consideration. Post entries before or on May 16th. Polling begins May 18th and ends May 23rd.

Proof readers will take your story, break it down, make sure it fits the word limit, grammar, spelling, plot, character development, etc. are all present and correct.

You can make changes to your story all the way up to the final posting date. After that, the stories that have not passed the critique will be disqualified. Those that are left will be put up for a vote for anyone to vote on.

If you win, you get to brag for a whole month, have your story immortalized in the City Auditorium, and earn a Fable reward in recognition from our Mayor.

This will be run like a professional writing contest. Your story will be edited, picked apart, and thoroughly looked at. If you exceed more than ten spelling or grammar errors, your story will be given back to you to rewrite. So check your work.

If your work goes over the word limit it will be given back to shorten. If it remains the same length it will be disqualified.

If your story does not follow the topic and genre, it will be given back to you to rewrite.

Things that must be right vs. artistic freedom- There are things like plot, and flow that might be your intent. That is totally cool. A proof reader might suggest that you pick up the pace or add more detail here and there. That is your choice to do or not. If you feel the story can stand on its own without change that is fine. Spelling, grammar, genre, word count, etc. are expected to be correct, no exceptions.

If you are proofreading- Look for spelling and grammar mistakes first. Word count comes next. Then answer the following questions for the story.

Did it stay within the genre?
Did it follow the topic?
Did it have a beginning, middle, and an end?

After you have done this feel free to comment on the story as you see fit. Bear in mind that anything beyond what is listed above is pretty much considered opinion. This can be taken or left by the author.

The genre and topic for this month:

Word Limit: 1600 words; Genre: Sci-Fi, Horror, Fantasy (or a combination of any of the former categories with Humour)

Topic: A boy is kept awake by the knocking and shuffling noises coming from the back of his wardrobe. Despite his best attempts, he hasn’t been able to find out what’s causing the noise. Until...

Good luck, and be creative!


Last edited by Shady Stoat on Wed May 17, 2006 2:47 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 24, 2006 11:15 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Oooh, this one is open to a lot of possibilities. Smile Great topic Stoat.
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 24, 2006 12:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yup, been waiting for a really open one to come along! Woo! Great stuff Shady! :biggrin:

*ponders evilly*
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Thesopholis - A Noir Sci-Fi Story - Chapter 8 is up! Read it here
The End of the Voyage - Chapter 9
Shady the Furry Goblin! [Demon's, Satan and Slobadan Milosevic!] - Chapter 3
The Quest for the Legendary Rubber-Duckie! - Chapter 3
One Last Bullet.... Chapter 3
Green Eyes - Chapter 5
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 24, 2006 1:50 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Sounds cool.

I've got some ideas for this one...
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 24, 2006 4:01 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Bah humbug, it'l never work. Surprised

hehe. Just trying* to be perverse. Now, where did I put my brains? I will need them for this one.


*Not a difficult thing.
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 11:27 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Got my entry...read away...
--------------------

Inspired by True Events

He pulled the sheets up to his chin again, squeezing his eyes shut as if, by doing that he could block the sounds that came from his wardrobe. Scritch, scratch, clitter, bang. Repeating endlessly through out the night. Slowly, as he's done a million times, he grabbed the maglight from beside his bed and slowly managed to get out of bed, his legs jello, his knees knocking like castinets.

He inched across the floor, a milimeter a minute, screwing up his courage with each infant step he took. Why him why? He'd done this a hundred times, night after night, for the past three weeks. Each time he would cross the floor with trepidation, slowly managed to reach out and, after a few false starts, grip the wardrobe knob, and then after a full five minutes of mental preparation and prayers, he'd open the door.

Tonight was no different. He made it across the room, reciting his mantra of 'I'm not going to die, I'm not going to die.' and opened the door. And as with every other night before...the noises stopped. He flicked on the flashlight, now that it was of no use to him as a weapon, and shone it in every corner. Nothing but clothes, dirty and clean, hung up and tumbled in a pile on the wardrobe floor.

Quick as lightning he shut the light off and rushed back to his bed, throwing the covers over his head and shaking like there was no tomorrow. In his eight year old brain a million monsters were imagined and discarded, a million more took their place. His parents were no help, none at all. After the first few times of looking in the wardrobe for 'imaginary' monsters, they'd begun to tell him he was too old for such nonsense and to go back to bed.

But every time he managed to settle back down, managed to banished the terrifying monsters in his imagination by calling up his favorite superheros to defend him, the noises would come again...Scritch, scratch, skitter, bang. And he'd sit bolt upright and clutch the flashlight to his chest. He'd been resolved from the start that he wouldn't use a nightlight. Nightlights were for babies and he wasn't a baby...he was just afraid.

But now, as the noises came again and again, as the shadows around the wardrobe turned it from a heavy bit of wood into some hideous monster with many clawed arms of shadow and teeth like a million razors, he finally realized it was either turn on the nightlight...or wet the bed from terror. The nightlight seemed like a much nicer option then.

With two quick hops, afterall it was in the other direction, he flicked the switch and the room was filled with a soft glow. The boy snuggled down in his bed, put away his flashlight, and closed his eyes. He was just on the verge of sleep when he was awakened by a terrific noise. BANG! BANG! BANG! It was coming from the wardrobe.

Something was hitting the door hard enough for the who massive thing to shake. BANG! BANG! BANG! There it went again. The boy screamed and fled for the safety of his parents bed. Thunder cracked, lightning flashed, and demon winds howled outside as the storm of the century seemed to break. They boy's parents, thinking he'd slammed the wardrobe himself, sent him back to bed.

So there he huddled, the glow of both nightlight and flashlight seeming feeble and weak, the imaginary company of his childhood hero's doing nothing to help his besieged mind. Suddenly, as a particularly violent crack of thunder broke overhead, the nightlight went out. He jumped, and the flashlight beam wavered. BANG! BANG! BANG! Went the thing in the wardrobe.

Suddenly, as his flashlight finally sputtered it's last moment, the wardrobe doors were flung wide open and something moved from within it's depths. A strange hissing and wailing noise accompanied it as it crossed the floor with cobra swiftness and wrapped the boy in it's stinking, filthy folds. The flashlight fell to the floor, useless, as the boy was dragged back into the depths of the wardrobe, the doors slamming shut just as his fingertips, nails digging into the wood of the floor, vanished.

The next morning his parents searched for him frantically, looking everywhere for their darling little boy. They even called the police when they couldn't find him but nothing turned up. The little boy was never seen again and the only clue as to where he went was found in the wardrobe. When they opened it gouged into the back with a metal coathanger wrapped in smelly undergarmets, was this chilling message.

Next time wash us!

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PostPosted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 11:30 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

lol Kalanna. Nice entry Rye.
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 11:30 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

LOL! Great punchline Kal!

Although, considering it was you, I was wondering where you were going to insert the humour Wink
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 11:35 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yes but I'm not always funny...just usually...
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PostPosted: Sun May 07, 2006 3:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thump

Simon sat bolt upright in his bed, the thick quilt no longer staving off the aching cold that had begun to permeate into his sightless room. He breathed out fearfully, the sight of his own laboured breath sending ethereal shivers running up his spine. Then it came again.

Thump

The breath stopped. He clutched the covers to his chin, shivering almost uncontrollably. He looked at his towering wardrobe, set at the end of his cavernous room, shrouded in a fathomless darkness which nonetheless beckoned for him to approach, though he told himself he had no intention of doing so. But the noises were getting louder, and much more frequent. He had tried sleeping, but they would not let him. It felt like he had lain in the huge bed for days, though he knew that that was ridiculous. The window on the right side of the bed let in a small pool of moonlight which he gazed at lovingly. It had kept him company for so long.

There were no other sounds save for the steady thump coming from the wardrobe. But Simon had decided that he could not just keep lying there, terrified and unable to sleep. His parents were just down the hall. They would know what to do. They always knew what to do. That was their job.

He swallowed and slowly drew the covers back, letting them fall in a crumpled triangle on his side. He slid to the edge of the bed, which seemed so far away. The bed was far too big, and he remembered to tell his parents about it when the day came.

Finally, he reached the distant right side and peeked his small head over the side.

He gasped at the huge drop that stretched for miles before reaching the floor. He pulled his head back and sat in the dark breathing heavily. It couldn’t be that far, it just can’t, he told himself again and again. Screwing up his eyes, he shuffled steadily to the edge once again, brought his legs over the edge, and let them hang for a moment.

Then he dropped. He felt the hard wooden floor rush up to meet his feet and he stood stock still for a moment. Then, slowly opening his eyes, he made sure that he had made it. The bed was there, the edge resting under the arm he was using to lean on it, no huge drop, no rushing wind threatening to whisk him from his feet and cast him into the abyss. He breathed a sigh of relief and set off toward his door.

Thump

He yelped and fell to his knees, clamping his hands over his ears and shutting his eyes tight.

Nothing. Total silence, save for his laboured breathing in and out. A terrified tear rolled down his cheek, but he steeled himself and ran to the vast door that sealed him away from the rest of the house. He reached for the gigantic handle and pulled savagely to open it. It slowly turned under Simon’s weight and the door’s lock gave an echoing click as the door creaked mournfully outwards.

Simon stood back and looked onto the landing beyond. He could hear the rustle of a breeze whirling its ways down the winding, shadowed hallways that ran through the house like a maze. The darkness was even more complete than it was inside his room, but he knew he had to reach his parents room or he would never find out what was making those noises that were keeping him awake. He warily took a step into the hall, the breeze adding to the cold that refused to leave his body.

Thump

The sound chased after him, the deep roar smashing into the walls and pounding around his room, looking for him. Simon ignored the darkness and bolted down the hall, sprinting toward his parent’s bedroom, three doors down from his. The sounds dissipated behind him, and he relaxed a little, though he knew it would be back and he kept running.

After what seemed like an eternity he reached their door. He began to pound on the oaken frame, sending soft tremors around the hall.

The sound from the wardrobe was so much louder, Simon thought unhappily; why hadn’t they heard it and come running? Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?

He continued to pound his tiny fist against the door, but he received no response, save the shrill cry of the wind as it ran down the hall. He looked down the hall, toward the end, where there was a window set into the wall, grey wallpaper peeling down at the edges, like the draping arms of that mental patient who always wandered past when they went to visit grandma. Outside the moon shone faintly, and a scraggly tree, its branches splayed across the glass like a handful of broken fingers, tapped the window gently. Tap tap tap. It kept tapping, as more and more branches clutched at the window, scraping their tips across the glass. Simon turned away, away from the horrifying noise, and tried the door handle again, but to no avail. Why weren’t his parents helping? He began to cry, tears welling up and blurring his vision. A sob wracked his throat, and he turned away from the door, rubbing his forearm across his eyes in a vain attempt to brush away the fear.

Thump

The sound stopped the crying dead, and he was once again breathing hard. Getting ready to run, for the sound had not come from his bedroom, but from within his parents room. If it had not sounded identical to that which he was so terribly used to, then he would have had hope that one or both of his loving parents were finally stirring from their slumbers and were emerging to come rescue him from the endless night.

Instead he began to back away, away from the door, and from the incessant tapping from the window. He had to get out of this house, away from the darkness and the booming sounds from within his wardrobe. Though his parents had never told him to leave the house at night, they were no longer around to tell him what to do.

So he made his way to the towering staircase that led down to the ground floor of their new house, with its gigantic chairs, glittering chandeliers swaying to-and fro high above and dauntingly huge front door. He steadily made his way from step to step, clinging to the banister for fear of losing his balance and plummeting into the darkness below. Step after step he made his way down, his breath freezing in front of his face and the hairs all over his body standing on end. He was deathly afraid, but could think of nothing else to do.

When he eventually reached the floor, he stood for a moment, watching his breath and listening for the sound. He could hear nothing except for the wind, which whistled unnervingly around the huge space at the foot of the stairs.

He hurried over to the front door, but as he approached, he realised that the handles were far too high to reach. But he still carried on, remembering the huge distance from the top of his bed to the floor that just disappeared, and hoping that it would happen again, when he needed it so badly.

But when he reached the door, he looked upwards and saw that the handles were still far too high. He felt tears begin the flood his eyes when he heard a soft whisper.

“Psst” He looked around, confused to where the noise had come from.

“Psst” he heard a click and looked at the door.

The letterbox was open and from outside two bloodshot eyes were staring grotesquely at him, unmoving, unblinking, gnarled fingers gripping the edge of the flap.

“Don’t look behind you!” It screeched the words at him and he screamed, turning away and starting to run back to the stairs.

He ran straight into the stout leg of his grinning father. He looked upwards, into his father shadow-masked face, and could only make out the whites of his eyes and his teeth, showing through under his eerie smile.

Reaching down, Simon’s father took him up in his arms and began to carry him back up the stairs.

Lightning flashed and for a second the whole hallway was illuminated by a glaring white light. He saw the dust-covered portraits hanging grotesquely from the peeling walls, their painted eyes always looking at him. Oh how Simon hated those paintings! He saw the monochrome carpet the stretched for miles down a hallway, before being lost in the darkness. And he saw the gore-streaked arms of his father, which held him close, lovingly, to his barrel-like chest.

Soon they were standing next to his bed, and Simon’s father placed him gently upon the uncomfortable mattress.

“Dad… daddy? Where’s mommy?” His father gave him another monstrous smile.

“I’ll go get her for you. Wait here.” He turned from the bed and walked down the room until he was standing next the wardrobe. He turned the key in the lock and stood back.

Thump

The door swung violently open and the shredded remains of Simon’s mother tumbled outwards, but stopped short as the taught rope snapped back, whipping the blood-soaked neck towards the dark recesses of the wardrobe. Simon screamed, terror-soaked tears streaming down his face, while his father continued to smile, his gleaming teeth shining brilliantly against the darkness.
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"Humankind cannot stand too much reality" - T.S. Elliot

Thesopholis - A Noir Sci-Fi Story - Chapter 8 is up! Read it here
The End of the Voyage - Chapter 9
Shady the Furry Goblin! [Demon's, Satan and Slobadan Milosevic!] - Chapter 3
The Quest for the Legendary Rubber-Duckie! - Chapter 3
One Last Bullet.... Chapter 3
Green Eyes - Chapter 5


Last edited by Solomon Birch on Thu May 11, 2006 1:11 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Sun May 07, 2006 3:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, theres my grisly entry. I know it isn't humourous, which usually helps with the linear comp, but there you go. Hope people 'enjoy' it! :biggrin:
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"Humankind cannot stand too much reality" - T.S. Elliot

Thesopholis - A Noir Sci-Fi Story - Chapter 8 is up! Read it here
The End of the Voyage - Chapter 9
Shady the Furry Goblin! [Demon's, Satan and Slobadan Milosevic!] - Chapter 3
The Quest for the Legendary Rubber-Duckie! - Chapter 3
One Last Bullet.... Chapter 3
Green Eyes - Chapter 5
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PostPosted: Sun May 07, 2006 7:30 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well it was certainly different.
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PostPosted: Sun May 07, 2006 10:06 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Very creepily told! Shocked Good entry, Soily!
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PostPosted: Tue May 09, 2006 11:32 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Only 1 week to go. Get your competition entries in soon, if you're going to, guys Very Happy
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PostPosted: Wed May 10, 2006 6:53 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Short but sweet: here's my entry Very Happy

The People on the Other Side

Darkness crept across the horizon and obscured the view from the window. Anxiety descended as surely as the sun, but instead of settling on the far side of the globe it settled in the pit of the stomach like a cold stone. Jeremy snored softly on the top bunk, already fast asleep, but Joshua sat upright on the bottom bed staring with apprehension at the wardrobe.

A measured rapping echoed through the interior of the wardrobe, muffled slightly by the clothes dangling from their hangers. This had happened every night for the past week, and Joshua’s parents had grown frustrated at what they viewed as their son’s ploy to gain attention. Jeremy would wake with agitation when his twin shook him from slumber, only to listen intently to the silent wardrobe before cuffing his brother’s head and falling back asleep. Joshua felt so alone.

A shuffling, a creak and a groan, followed by another knock. Joshua had investigated the wardrobe before. Bravely tip-toeing across the hardwood floor, he had first peered into the closet with a lump in his throat threatening to make him puke. Nothing sinister lurked inside, except maybe for Jeremy’s laundry flung carelessly on the floor rather than hung neatly on the hangers. A loud knock had boomed into the constricted space, causing his bladder to void on the spot. His parents had been concerned at first, but concluded that he had consumed too much juice before bedtime. They restricted his beverage consumption before bed after that.

Next Joshua peeked behind the wardrobe. Little space existed between the wood and the wall, and the space was clear except for an errant sock that must belong to his brother. The shuffling continued beside his head, neither inside the wardrobe nor behind the wardrobe, but nonetheless at the rear of the closet. Perplexing, and even more terrifying in Joshua’s estimation. He imagined a nether-realm stretching out from the rear of his wardrobe, and some horrific beast scrabbling against the gate in an effort to enter this world to consume little boys.

The noises resumed tonight, just as Joshua suspected they would, although he had held a small hope that tonight all would be silent and he could sleep. The door to the wardrobe stood slightly ajar, a malicious contrivance most likely instigated by Jeremy. Joshua sat on his mattress, covers held up to his chin, and he tried to work up the courage to approach the door and close it.

The knocking suddenly ceased, and an eerie green glow issued forth from the slit between the door and its jamb. A pulsing hum replaced the shuffling, and then an alien murmuring started. Joshua pulled the covers up over his head and clenched his eyes closed. Surely this wasn’t actually happening. All in his imagination. He repeated the phrase as a mantra.

Something slowly pulled the blanket from him, and Joshua waited to die, a scream lodged in his throat and unable to get out. When death did not come, he opened one eye. Several squat, yellow beings blinked at him in the soft light streaming from the closet. His other eye slipped open, and he gawked at them as blatantly as they gawked at him.

A voice spoke inside of his head, not in words but more in images, and he perceived an invitation into the wardrobe. Glancing inside the open door, he could see a portal into another world, where other beings like these waited expectantly.

The images continued, showing him places that they wanted him to visit, and ending with his safely back home and sleeping peacefully in his own bed. Joshua accepted the invitation, standing warily but with excitement as well.

The next morning Joshua awoke feeling refreshed. His adventures from the night before replayed in his mind, almost like a vivid dream except that he knew that what had happened was real. The noises in his wardrobe had kept him awake at night, until the people on the other side had figured out how to get through.

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PostPosted: Wed May 10, 2006 9:42 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ooo, good entry Fauna. Very Happy Surprised
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Thesopholis - A Noir Sci-Fi Story - Chapter 8 is up! Read it here
The End of the Voyage - Chapter 9
Shady the Furry Goblin! [Demon's, Satan and Slobadan Milosevic!] - Chapter 3
The Quest for the Legendary Rubber-Duckie! - Chapter 3
One Last Bullet.... Chapter 3
Green Eyes - Chapter 5
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PostPosted: Wed May 10, 2006 4:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Indeed, although most of these entries are too scary for me to read.

Anyway, don't forget all, you can bet on the outcome in my new Gambling Emporium as well. When all the votes are in.

I was going to enter this, but my brains just can't seem to come up with anything, useless lumps of grey goo, I don' t know why I keep them around. I will try and think of an entry today.
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PostPosted: Thu May 11, 2006 5:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'll take them off your hands if you like Chinaren. For an honest price as well - bargin.
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PostPosted: Mon May 15, 2006 1:43 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Last day to get your entries in. Write quickly if you're going to... Very Happy
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PostPosted: Mon May 15, 2006 1:46 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I am exhausted from writing Greed! Next time perhaps...

Wink
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PostPosted: Mon May 15, 2006 1:52 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nitpicks and corrections for each of the current comp entries.

First: Kalanna's tale

Kalanna Rai wrote:
Inspired by True Events

He pulled the sheets up to his chin again, squeezing his eyes shut as if, by doing that he could block the sounds that came from his wardrobe. Scritch, scratch, clitter, bang. Repeating endlessly through out the night. Slowly, as he's done a million times, he grabbed the maglight from beside his bed and slowly managed to get out of bed, his legs jello, his knees knocking like castinets.

He inched across the floor, a millimeter a minute, screwing up his courage with each infant step he took. Why him why? He'd done this a hundred times, night after night, for the past three weeks. Each time he would cross the floor with trepidation, slowly managed to reach out and, after a few false starts, grip the wardrobe knob, and then after a full five minutes of mental preparation and prayers, he'd open the door.

Tonight was no different. He made it across the room, reciting his mantra of 'I'm not going to die, I'm not going to die.' and opened the door. And as with every other night before...the noises stopped. He flicked on the flashlight, now that it was of no use to him as a weapon, and shone it in every corner. Nothing but clothes, dirty and clean, hung up and tumbled in a pile on the wardrobe floor.

Quick as lightning he shut the light off and rushed back to his bed, throwing the covers over his head and shaking like there was no tomorrow. In his eight year old brain a million monsters were imagined and discarded, a million more took their place. His parents were no help, none at all. After the first few times of looking in the wardrobe for 'imaginary' monsters, they'd begun to tell him he was too old for such nonsense and to go back to bed.

But every time he managed to settle back down, managed to banished the terrifying monsters in his imagination by calling up his favorite superheroes to defend him, the noises would come again...Scritch, scratch, skitter, bang. And he'd sit bolt upright and clutch the flashlight to his chest. He'd been resolved from the start that he wouldn't use a nightlight. Nightlights were for babies and he wasn't a baby...he was just afraid.

But now, as the noises came again and again, as the shadows around the wardrobe turned it from a heavy bit of wood into some hideous monster with many clawed arms of shadow and teeth like a million razors, he finally realized it was either turn on the nightlight...or wet the bed from terror. The nightlight seemed like a much nicer option then.

With two quick hops, after all it was in the other direction, he flicked the switch and the room was filled with a soft glow. The boy snuggled down in his bed, put away his flashlight, and closed his eyes. He was just on the verge of sleep when he was awakened by a terrific noise. BANG! BANG! BANG! It was coming from the wardrobe.

Something was hitting the door hard enough for the whole massive thing to shake. BANG! BANG! BANG! There it went again. The boy screamed and fled for the safety of his parents’ bed. Thunder cracked, lightning flashed, and demon winds howled outside as the storm of the century seemed to break. They boy's parents, thinking he'd slammed the wardrobe himself, sent him back to bed.

So there he huddled, the glow of both nightlight and flashlight seeming feeble and weak, the imaginary company of his childhood hero's doing nothing to help his besieged mind. Suddenly, as a particularly violent crack of thunder broke overhead, the nightlight went out. He jumped, and the flashlight beam wavered. BANG! BANG! BANG! Went the thing in the wardrobe.

Suddenly, as his flashlight finally sputtered its last moment, the wardrobe doors were flung wide open and something moved from within it's depths. A strange hissing and wailing noise accompanied it as it crossed the floor with cobra swiftness and wrapped the boy in its stinking, filthy folds. The flashlight fell to the floor, useless, as the boy was dragged back into the depths of the wardrobe, the doors slamming shut just as his fingertips, nails digging into the wood of the floor, vanished.

The next morning his parents searched for him frantically, looking everywhere for their darling little boy. They even called the police when they couldn't find him but nothing turned up. The little boy was never seen again and the only clue as to where he went was found in the wardrobe. When they opened it gouged into the back with a metal coathanger wrapped in smelly undergarments, was this chilling message.

Next time wash us!


===========

The other two have obviously already been run through Spelling and Grammar check already. Well done - less work for me Very Happy
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PostPosted: Wed May 17, 2006 2:48 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

OK, the poll has gone up. It'll run until the end of the 23rd May.

Good luck to all contestants and thanks to those who entered.

Get voting Very Happy
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PostPosted: Tue May 23, 2006 4:53 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Last day for voting, everyone Very Happy
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PostPosted: Tue May 23, 2006 5:08 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Oops - missed this one.

*scurries off to re-read and vote*


EDIT:

Hmmm... great entry's from Kalanna and Fauns, but it seems I wasn't alone in liking Soily's creepy entry.

Well done Soily Very Happy
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PostPosted: Wed May 24, 2006 4:01 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well done Soily! A resounding victory! Very Happy

You're not having this magnificent golden belt though... Shocked

*scampers into the distance before Solomon can claim the prize...*
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PostPosted: Wed May 24, 2006 4:30 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

*emerges from the ground and towers to his true menacing height, showering mountains of dirt down upon the terrified IFians below.*

Hand over that belt now, you sneaky little rodent!
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PostPosted: Wed May 24, 2006 4:37 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

EEK! Unsure

You only needed to ask!

I'm not sure it's your size though. I had it re-fitted...

*takes off weenie stoat-belt and hands a 5-inch band of golden material over*
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PostPosted: Wed May 24, 2006 4:59 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yes, congradulations Soiled One.
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PostPosted: Wed May 24, 2006 6:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

*coughs and shrinks* Um... sorry. Don't really know what came over me.... Blink

*takes 'belt'*

Oh, thanks for the shiny headband! Very Happy

*prances*

Wooo!

I'll get working on the next comp idea on friday, after my first exam. :biggrin:
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PostPosted: Wed May 24, 2006 3:14 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Isn't it meant to go up today though? Or was that just Shady being punctual.
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PostPosted: Wed May 24, 2006 4:12 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Congrats Soily!
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Which story deserves to claim the Linear Belt this time?
Kalanna's 'Inspired by True Events'
9%
 9%  [ 1 ]
Soily's 'Thump!'
63%
 63%  [ 7 ]
Fauna's 'People on the Other Side'
27%
 27%  [ 3 ]
Total Votes : 11
Who Voted: Chinaren, ethereal_fauna, LordoftheNight, OmegaTerra, Shady Stoat, Smee, Solomon Birch, Thracia Alba

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