Quote:
Originally Posted by I got this once, so just so there are no surprises
Before I begin I would like to explain that this isn’t my original work, this is a story already written which I am just using, I am saying this because I don’t want anyone to believe I’m plagiarizing. This is a classic story it seems, however it isn’t the exact replica I did add a little bit of me into it.
Before we get into this though, I just want to say a quick thanks to everyone who stuck with it! I'm sorry we didn't get into the passing, and I'll take that more as a personal managing issue than the fault of any individuals. That being said, Happy Halloween! You can start with any story after the intro and from there going down it'll loop.
Enjoy!
Spoiler for Introduction:
Flickering tendrils of flames lashed out against the surrounding darkness, hissing and crackling like a dying animal, screaming not to be the day’s only demise. Night had fallen hours ago, but the date would be damned if it let it allowed silence. Twigs snapped violently as animals scurried unseen in the woods, and wildlife howled and hoo-ed ominously in the distance. The mood was only complemented by the chilled breeze, brushing by the campfire’s gathering. Sitting in a small group as the controlled inferno thrashed once more, they were cast ghoulishly in the light as each individual shadow they had was emphasized to the product of nightmare.
One of those gathered rubbed his hands in an effort to recover lost heat, scooting a bit closer to the fire. “Fitting end for Halloween,” He mused to himself, thinking nothing of it until a sudden thought struck him. In a tattered trench coat meant to resemble Friday the 13th’s Jason and mask to complete the look, his soft hazel eyes scanned the group around him, an unseen grin stretching his features.
“But…” Dropping his voice to match the dark around him, he leaned in, reducing his speech to a whisper, “I know how we could end it right... Anyone know any ghost stories?”
Spoiler for zoomxoom:
The Nomad stood, a piece of his ‘rotted flesh’ falling from his skin as he stretched his long, blackened arms. “This tale has been passed through the generations in my family. My family once was accused of being witches, back in the times of knights and kings, and as it turned out, they were not, but they were instead vampires, and they took prey upon many a innocent man,” He paused, raising a finger up to his dimly lit face, the lights in his glove creating streaks that followed his fingertips up to his glowing red eyes, “Or that’s how the story goes at least.” With his little introduction passed, he opened his lips to begin the tale.
“The shadows danced across the cave, evading the light of the flickering torches as the knights made their way down the corridor. Every step one of the knights took echoed through the tunnels, drowning out any chance of talking with one another as their metal sabatons clanged against the stone.
They had no idea what they were in for. The five of them knew that they had to watch each other’s backs, but they had no idea just how closely they had to do so in order to avoid losing one another. Each of the five men walked in a tight circle, their backs pressed against each other. If one of them broke formation and released the pressure they were putting on each other’s backs, the worst was to be assumed.
‘Divines be damned, he’s already expecting us it seems,’ one of the knights muttered under his breath, knowing the others wouldn’t hear him over the sound of their own footsteps.
The air was thick down as far as they were, at least a good five miles beneath the surface. They were boiling in their armor and having a hard time breathing, and they hadn’t even reached the real test of faith in their so called Divines.
Finally they reached the hallway’s end, all of them still more or less with their sanity intact. But they had entered HIS playground. The wide open grove full of old catacombs and ruinous structures, surrounded by rubble, rivers, and greenery. They had no idea where he was, in truth they didn’t even know if he was in the cave when they arrived, but they had their mission, and they were going to see it through.” He flung his hands down, and soon after, the sound of a shatter was heard, just before the flame was bathed in a vibrant green color. The Nomad smiled, a crooked smile passing his lips as he paced around the fire. In his belt he had brought many capsules filled with gasses inside. Just now he had thrown one of those capsules, filled with copper II sulfate, at the rocks around the firepit, allowing the gas to escape and cause the flame to burn these gasses, changing its color.
“Little did they know that they would never escape, for you see, the powers of a vampire to create illusions are exemplary, so no matter what, for these men, the world around them would never be more than an illusion again, not that they would be able to realize it.
Anyways, I’ve given away too much already, back to the tale. The men walked forwards, confused. With the echo of the small cave now gone, they could talk freely with each other once more.
‘This doesn’t make any sense. Why would a vamp live in such a lit area, this doesn’t sit right with me,’ one of the lower rank knights spoke out as the group made their way to the bridge over the stream in the room’s center.
‘You’re right, what’s going on?’ the captain asked.
None of them were expecting an answer, but they soon got one. A simple, ‘Why don’t you come see for yourself?’ was all it took for my ancestor to make the knight’s jump right out of their own armor in fear and shock. They surely fell pale in complexion when they turned to see their target standing atop the coffin at the far end of the room.
One of the knights happened to be an archer who was quick to the draw, and had an arrow headed the way of the vampire in mere moments.”
The Nomad halted his movement around the fire pit, moving his foot to ensure his next step would be onto a tree branch that had fallen to the floor. “Ssshhhk, the arrow pierced the vampire’s torso, cracking a rib so loudly that the knights heard it from halfway across the massive stone chamber. However, the vampire did not look phased by the attack, in fact he seemed rather pleased with himself, for as the archer turned to look at his comrades, he found the captain lying on the floor, struck through the heart, in the same place that he had fired the arrow into the vampire.
‘By entering my home you have sealed your fates, you have no chances of escape,’ The vampire called out to them as his image began to shimmer and fade away, as though he had never been there at all.”
The Nomad paused once again, looking around at each of the men sitting around the camp fire, “And now we draw to the fun part of my tale. I must skip some pieces as a few of the details have been lost as the story has traveled down through word of mouth over the years. Unfortunately it was lost how two of the soldiers fell in that cave, my only guesses are similar accidents as the knights’ captain, but I digress, the final two are my favorites anyways.”
“The final two knights, the archer and a swordsman, had found themselves around the coffin of my ancestor, and were trying to find a way to open it to get inside, their only assumption being that the vampire had to be inside, they had searched most of the cave to no avail. The swordsman had pried his sword between the coffin and its lid, and the two had decided to use the archer’s bow to give them the space to grab on and push down on the sword, to try and pry it open, but just as the stone slab did begin to move, it slammed shut on its own, sliding back into place. The room began to shift around them, and suddenly they found themselves inside of a large stone chamber, with nothing present save a single staircase, which led up to a platform in the center, upon which sat a large cage filled to the brim with riches. The cage had an obvious door, but with a large lock on it, preventing the knights from reaching the riches.
Cling. Clang. Cling. Clang. One by one, keys began to fall from the ceiling at the base of the stairs. The archer ran towards the pile as it continued to grow, one by one. The archer made many attempts to unlock the cage to reach the riches before his partner grabbed onto his shoulders.
‘Get a grip on yourself, can’t you see that he’s just toying with you?’ the swordsman spoke sternly, but the archer was already consumed by greed, and would not stop on his endeavors. ‘Dangit, looks like I’m all alone now.’ The lone knight stated proudly, raising his sword as the room began to shift once more.
‘You hear that, I’m all alone, so come and get me!’ The knight called out, now standing in a morgue setting, dead bodies strewn out across seemingly endless rows of tables. Some of these dead were fresh, and others, not so much. The smell of death pierced the knight’s nostrils, and caused him to stagger back slightly from the sheer force of the smell. Little did he know that he was backing right into his own fate.
Ksssshhhhh, the floor shifted beneath his foot, and the ceiling opened up, revealing numerous air vents, through which a strange yellow powder began to float down. The powder began to steadily mix with the air, and slowly the yellow smog descended down the boxed in room. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Finally the smog hit the nostrils of the knight, and began to take effect almost instantly. First the nose and throat began to burn, the chemicals in the yellow powder irritating the tissue of the throat, causing it to swell, and in turn making it harder for the knight to breathe, but it didn’t matter, the dust was already in his system, and quickly made its way to the man’s lungs, beginning to corrode and kill the tissue that formed the air sacs of the lungs, causing it to crust up and harden. When the knight went to take his next breath, the crusted, hardened tissue began to crack, causing blood to seep into his lungs, causing him to fall to the ground, his lungs filled with his own blood within mere moments.”
The masked man beside him had to just sit and stare at him for a few moments. “And here I thought I was a showman. Remind me to burn whatever candy my brother got from your house, okay?”
“I guess I’ll take one for the team and go next too,” Passing the man a smirk, the Crystal Lake costumed kid scooting a bit closer to the campfire, light embracing his body and casting him in an ominous orange glow. “No knights in this one though, just a family outing! Or, it was rather…” Playful grin fading fast, he slowly faced the flames as his eyes closed, waiting for complete silence before beginning. A twig snapped in the distance but as soon as it did, his smooth voice began.
Spoiler for Crank:
“The wrathful eyes of a father burned like the inferno thrashing inside the glass of his lantern,” Roy began quietly, somber even, thumping his chest with an accelerating tempo as his voice grew and sped with it, “the bright, beating fire being the only thing bringing light to a black night. Knuckles cracked and popped like bones as a clenched fist squeezed, threatening the figure before him. A dark cowl failed to conceal its wretchedness, twisted, haunting smirk expanding as its blue eyes flickered from the illumination.
“Blood soaked the thing’s jacket, clinging it to his body the way his wife held to her son, both growing cold as crimson continued to drain from their paling bodies. Fighting just to keep breathing, each beat of their hearts squirted their precious vitals into the expanding pool on the floor. They could feel the reaper’s eyes upon them, certain of their fate if help didn’t arrive soon. Far too deep in the woods, no one could hear them scream, hear them shriek! Throats raw and lungs depleted, all they could do was bleed. It felt hopeless…
“Upstairs, the father’s breathing grew more and more rageful, never tearing his eyes from the figure before him. Unblinkingly, it started back, licking its lips for the still wet beads of blood dripping down. It showed no regret, felt no remorse. It chuckled at the pain of the father, his weakness. The emotions binding him. His fist was shaking and his entire body was trembling. The haunting pair of eyes charred his soul, watching; waiting. Taunting the man.”
His voice descended to nothing, and he let the cackling flames of the campfire be the only sound for a brief moment. Hunching over, Roy slowly brought both hands to his face.
“No more!” Snapping into a fist, it suddenly slammed on the log he sat, his voice a violent shout, “It needed to die. Snapping as his sanity shattered, he could barely even feel his body as he ripped a hunting knife from its sheath, slashing in a violent fury to kill the beast before him.
“The blade struck true, sharp edge slicing through muscle and vein before severing the jugular in a singular, sudden motion. He barely even knew what he had done until he felt the squirting blood. The man felt numb as he released the blood-soaked blade, hearing it clank against the floorboard. Rapidly growing lightheaded, he could feel his legs weaken and stumble, dizzily bumping into the figure before him.
“Blood smeared against the mirror as the father collapsed, glass of his lantern shattering beside him as he fell.
“As his throat sputtered crimson he knew with his family wouldn’t be cold for long…”
Spoiler for Tremorfist:
“So, my turn huh?” The ghostly man intoned, his tone rather cheery beneath his face paint. He holds up a hand, the chains wrapped around his hands jangling in almost an almost musical tone. Stretching his arms out, as if casting some form of spell, he began his tale.
The first kill was all too easy for her
The knife blade dug into the man’s torso, tearing through skin and muscle as it penetrated to the hilt. She had planned out this motion, slipping the blade under his ribcage, he would not suffer, but it was a suitable and quick kill. Her hands had been covered in blood, but she wasn’t disturbed by this, even after knowing what theoretically what would happen. She expected him to struggle, to scream, to cry out in agony.
No, he stood there, his dark eyes wide with shock, betrayal, his jaw agape in silence. Watching his tongue and lips move to attempt to pronounce a word, almost comical, as his face began to pale,
A hushed whisper was all she heard as he collapsed onto the bathroom floor, the blood seeping onto the damp tile floor. She hesitated for a few moments, turning her head toward the mirror, but it was in vain, the mirror was still covered in water vapor. That was when she knelt down, a blood stained hand touching his neck, no pulse. The man was dead
The bastard was dead.
.Beginning to stand, she…halted, the only sound in the small bathroom, was her breathing, forced, laboring, but it was almost too loud, accusingly loud. She heard her heart beating in her chest, as if attempting to tear itself out of her ribcage. The room was hot, too hot, still steaming from the scalding shower the man had taken only minutes before, by this point, it was suffocating, She needed to get out, and quickly.
The door was still left open as she staggered out of the steaming room. His bedroom was locked, and she collapsed in the tussled bed. Some of his clothes were tossed haphazardly about, not caring where they seemed to have fallen. Looking toward them she almost heard his voice,
“That was great bab-SHIT, got to get ready for work.”
It was at that point, she realized she was crying.
The mirror seemed all the more inviting at this point, as she managed to finally pull herself up from the bed, the heat had subsided into a freezing chill as she observed her own expression.
Sullen, silent, her bright blue eyes stared back at her in an almost accusing manner. She was pale, almost unhealthily so, and the bits of mascara that surrounded her eyes had been running.
That was when she saw the blood.
Blood covered her hands, her arms, over the rather baggy shirt she wore, not of her own. It was one of his.
Cleaning herself, removing the evidence, was the first reaction it seemed in her head, it was the logical, it was the right thing to do.
She didn’t want to though.
It was disgusting, it was wrong, she was disgusting, she was wrong. It suited her.
She instead unlocked the bedroom door, lingering for a moment over the doorknob, a small “DO NOT DISTURB” sign had been put over the doorknob, cute. She couldn’t help but chuckle at this, closing the door behind her.
The hotel was actually well furnished, a bit too fancy for the deeds that were done on a bit too often in the area. I supposed having a lot of money and a dad who didn’t know better really had its benefits. But she needed something to calm her nerves.
Her jacket sat on the side of the couch, plopping down upon it, she reached into the pocket for a disposable lighter, along with a cigarette.
She’d likely be lambasted for smoking in a room like this, but she couldn’t give a damn right now.
The tip ignited, a deep inhale of the fumes and tobacco, her breathing began to slow, her body relaxed.
Her mind was in the game, she had work to do.
The table still had a few items scattered from last night, wine, half finished, a few corny movies, her favorites. She spotted it finally, his cell phone.
His text messages told her a lot, the chain they shared, it was as if he didn’t know her, but he seemed all too eager to just jump in the sack again. It caused an angry fumbling for another cigarette/ Two years, in that time, she had become a figment of his mind, and yet he still was up to the same shit he was up to before.
Another message showed up this morning, labeled…”Bae”
“Bb, u there?”
The only message sent, a few hours ago, when he was still sprawled out, spent and snoring in the bed.
She lingered over the message for a moment, another poor soul trapped by the bastard. Perhaps she’d find another person, unlike her.
Two years, it was since she discovered the bastard didn’t’ bother to use protection, that she was….infected, by that idiots seed. She didn’t know what she saw in him. All his smiles and charm, his wit over the smallest things, seemed like brilliance in her eyes. If she only knew, did this one also have the same moment, the starry eyed gaze as he told her a story of his exploits in college? Did he laugh at her own jokes and act invested in her own dreams and aspirations, while only caring about aspiring to get between her legs?
It was only a year ago, since the child was adopted, that she managed to…while she didn’t want to keep the child, she didn’t want to kill a being that had no choice in the matter.
She turned the phone off, her face stony.
There was no escaping this, what she did.
He was scum, but was she any better. Was taking his life worth the time, worth the pain of others that may have seen something good in him.
His mother perhaps, she recalled her, good, Christian woman, a warm smile, even tried to contact her after they broke up. But based on how quickly she seemed to have forgotten her as well, perhaps she was not as kind as she was.
His father, tossed a check to her, told her to lose the child, and forgot what happened, the money, keeping her out of the family business. She was just a floozy to him, not worth any time or emotion on him.
Maybe his sister, but something told her she was just a fabrication, a joke or lie to get him out of a date or a quick getaway.
These thoughts ran through her head, did she have anybody would miss her?
She thought to her own parents, disowned after they learned she was pregnant, when she threw herself into that man’s arms, they were right, and she couldn’t go back to them.
Her councilor, maybe, she had been dealing with a lot, but he didn’t think she would resort to this, he may just have figured that she needed a day or two off.
It wouldn’t be the case with it.
The body had already grown cold, some of the blood pooled upon the tiles beginning to darken.
The knife still jammed into his midsection.
It took her more effort than she expected,, pulling the blade out. Blood coated the knife.
It took a moment for her, staring back into the mirror as she saw her wild expression, her wide and terrorized expression.
She held the knife aloft, pointing it toward her own midsection.
She had one final thought that ran through her mind, as the shock of pain, the wet “slunk” of metal piercing flesh, and the warm flow of blood covering her hands.
“The second kill was all too hard for me.”
He took a deep breath at the end of this, shaking his head, “I’m done, next?”
Spoiler for Aquila (Connor):
Connor began telling his story, “The dad was out on a business trip, the brother was at college, and the mom was out with her friends like every weekend so she was home alone. Not really alone however, she had her dog. Her lovable golden retriever, Henry. He would follow her around as she did all her chores, ate while she ate, and at night would sleep right next to her bed. He had done that ever since she was a little girl because whenever she got scared she would simply lean her arm over and the dog would give it a few reassuring licks that always calmed her down. It made her feel safe that someone was always there for her. The night it happened was like the rest, she was home alone, had just gotten a call from each of her parents, wishing her a good night sleep and that they love her and will see her soon. She laid down in her soft bed, and after petting her dog, she went to sleep.
“She was first woken up by the sound of creaking, but she casted it away as simply the sound the house was making as she lowered her hand down beside her bed to gain a little comfort from the Alsatian. She felt the warmth of his soft tongue as he licked her hand, showing her the he was okay and so was she because he was there.
“She woke up again, but this time to the sound of shuffling. The sound was first greeted with initial alarm, but a quick check of Henry showed that he was just fidgeting in his sleep. She ruffled his ears and then went to the bathroom. Her house was quiet and the soft creaking of her walking down the hallway, and the shuffling of her clothing rubbing together echoed throughout the house. Returning back she rolled into her bed and fell asleep.
Her sleep was interrupted again, this time to the sound of breathing. Slightly scared she lowered her hand and felt the hot breath of Henry on her hand. After a few licks she smiled and fell asleep. The warm glow of the sun piercing through the windows woke her up, and she leaned over to greet Henry but instead was greeted by a white letter that sat where Henry usually slept. Henry himself was missing. She called for him but was only answered by the emptiness of the house. With shaking fingers she fumbled to rip open the letter, its presence and the lack of Henry’s sent cold chills throughout her body. The letter read, ‘Hello Beautiful. You truly are alluring while you sleep, I was content with just looking through the window, but last night I decided to advance our little relationship to the next level. I hope my sneaking around didn’t bother you too much. Oh by the way I prepared a little gift for you, it took me longer than I thought and you ended up waking up, boy that was surprising. But I handled it well I believe, and where’s the gift you may ask? It’s in the bathroom. Well I hope the next time I come over I see your parents, give them my best.’ Finishing the letter she became aware of the sound of dripping that was coming from the bathroom.
She got out of her bed and ran out to the bathroom, she opened the door and let out a piercing scream. Hanging from the shower rail was the fur of Henry, still dripping with red blood that collected and trickled down the drain. His body wasn’t there but a collection of red towels in the corner suggested that the intruder had done the grisly work and then transported the body away. What was written on the mirror had her huddled in the corner of the bathroom, then rushing to the sink where she scrubbed her hands harshly in hot water with soup and a rough scrub. She began rubbing out the letters that was painted with blood on the mirror, taunting her, ‘Humans can lick too.’ “
Connor shuffled backwards on his seat a bit, proud of his story. Everyone else around the fire just looked at each other, a bit of awkwardness ensuing.
"Uh, Connor?" said Richard, breaking the silence.
"Yeah?"
"You do know that's like, one of THE most common creepypastas out there, right?"
"What? I thought-"
"Yyyyeah. Sorry."
Several people nodded, others just stared somewhere else, waiting for the next tale.
"Welp!" exploded Richard, startling most of the listeners, "my turn!"
Spoiler for WafflesMcGee (Richard):
"Here's one I heard a while ago," he stated, his voice calmer yet still piping with enthusiasm, "can't remember where. Might have been from the internet, or a dream I once had..." voice trailing off, his eyes setting on the ground, lips visibly muttering invisible words as he tried to recall. Xate gave him a quick jab with his elbow.
"Ah, that's right! The story. Sorry, folks, I'm back in the game now." Someone on the other side of the fire groaned.
"Well, here's how it goes:
"So here's a tale about this house, deep in a forest near here. A guy named Pete Pillsbrough used to live in there decades ago. The thing about the house was that it was several miles out from the nearest village, which kept Pete away from having much of a social life. He bought the house cheap, since the military loved to have planes and all that fly over it during their exercises. It meant he got free double glazing too, but that's where his luck ended.
"If you were to visit the place now, all you'd see would be a worn-down house, its windows smashed and rubble everywhere. Its innards were looted long ago, now with nothing but graffiti lining the walls. The area around the back door and the main bedroom are the only places left untouched; they spook people out, y'see, and you'll find out why.
"Pete was a pretty peaceful fellow. Owned a small dog named, uh, Dog. He wasn't good with names." Richard chuckled. "Anyways, Pete spent most of his life in his house. He worked as a postman, but since the village was small his job was quick, only took a few hours out of each day, even though he did it all on foot. He'd take Dog with him, too. Dog'd wear a little backpack thing where Pete kept some snacks and water for them both, but that's unimportant.
"Y'see, although Pete was a chap of simple tastes, he was plagued. One or two nights every week, he'd have these dreams. He'd wake up at night to the sound of tapping outside of his window. He could never see what was causing it 'cause the curtains were always closed. He never dared opening them to find out what was causing it. He just learned to try and ignore it and go to sleep; some nights it eventually stopped, others it just kept on going. The tapping never followed a tune; it was irregular , though slow. Could drive someone mad if they listened to it long enough.
"One time Pete decided to sleep with Dog in his room. Dog usually just collapsed on the downstairs seats but Pete decided a bit of company might help him with it. Though that night, he had a different nightmare. He didn't hear the tapping on his window that night, but instead he heard something happening downstairs. His back door had a catflap large enough for Dog to hop in and out whenever he needed to relieve himself, y'see, and right now this catflap sounded like it was being punched open. Every ten or so seconds, the flap was opened loudly, followed by the sound of the flap swinging shut, just so it could be blasted open again.
"Naturally, Pete was petrified." Richard tried to mimic the noises of the catflap. "Thump, scree-eech, chunk. Thump, scree-eech, chunk. Thump, scree-eech, chunk. THUMP. This time, the catflap didn't close at all. By now, both Pete and Dog were fully awake, and a bit scared. They were totally unprepared for this, and for the sound that happened next."
People didn't notice Richard slip his hands behind his back, or that he was holding two rocks. He started scraping them together slowly to create a sound.
"A loud scrape echoed through the house, like something was slowly clawing at a slab of concrete. Then, not a second after, Scree-eech, chunk. The flap was closed, and that was the last noise they heard last night.
"Pete was unable to sleep for the rest of that night, but Dog managed just fine. By the time the sun came up, Pete mustered up the courage to go downstairs and find out what happened. As he shuffled down the steps, he planned on taking a quick peek at the catflap to see if it had taken any damage, but something caught his eye before that did.
"The floor in front of the door had a huge gash in front of it, over a meter long. It tore through the carpet and it sliced through the concrete underneath, trails of debris leading towards the flap. After that, Pete had quiet nights. He didn't know why, but this scared him more than the tapping. He felt like instead of something was outside, tapping on the window, he felt like something was looming over him, watching. He'd think he saw something dart behind the door, or something flicker at the foot of his bed, but nothing he could catch.
"He thought he was just imagining things after a while, until one night he wandered into his room with his dog. He sat down in bed, pulling off his socks. As he was pulling off his second one, he heard his dog growling, looking at the open door. He couldn't see what was in the hallway, the door itself was blocking his view. All he could hear was a faint... clicking noise in the hallway.
"The sound froze him in place, warm fear flooding his spine; then the dog barked, and the door slammed shut.
"Heh, yeah. Well, you could guess that Pete was a bit shocked after that. He didn't move from his bed for ten minutes before deciding to go downstairs and check what was what. He started keeping a crowbar next to his bed, thinking that he was being stalked, and so he took it with him in case he ran into the intruder. The only thing out of place was the back door, wide open.
"Pete decided that to sleep tonight, he'd need a strong drink. He walked into the kitchen, hung the crowbar on a coat hook, and quickly dried a glass from his sink. As he was rubbing it, he stared out his window, looking towards the forest in the night. Half of him was scared, fuelling his imagination; he expected to see something move through the gaps between the trees, or to see a face suddenly jump up in front of the window, screaming. Hundreds of possible scenarios darted through his mind, each one more terrifying and disturbing. As he stared between the trees, the one thing he didn't expect happened;
"One of the trees started to move.
"He saw only parts of the thing, most of it being obscured by branches, leaves and trunks. He beheld its height, a behemoth of a thing, though it was thinner than the trees it stood by. He couldn't see its head, only a ribcage assembled from twitchy appendages. Its arms were hulking and lengthy, ending in five fingers, assembled into mighty fists. Pete's glass was shattered on the floor at this point. He thought that the sleepless nights were finally getting to him, that maybe he had a tumour in his brain to cause all of this. Surely this can't be real? Maybe he IS asleep.
"Pete rushed upstairs to his bed, hoping that if he threw himself into it whilst dreaming, he'd throw himself out of it awake. But as he burst through into the room, he had a nagging feeling at the back of his mind. A voice saying, "What was that thing?" Curiosity compelled.
"He moved towards his bedroom window, curtains obscuring his view into the forest, the same direction as his kitchen's window. His hands trembled, slowly reaching to grasp the fabrics. Did he want to see the thing? He knows that at this higher angle, the beast's face would be visible. Did he need to see? The thing that plagued his nights? He had to see. He needed to see.
"And when he opened his curtains, the thing was grinning at him, inches from the glass. Pete ran.
"He darted downstairs, running to get the crowbar on the coat hook, ready to protect himself from this thing. Dog was nowhere to be seen at this point, but Pete didn't notice. All he could think of was what he was gonna do; well, he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything, but when you put this much fear into a person, it's like backing a wolf into a corner. And he was ready to snap. But this thing was like fear incarnate.
"Pete had his crowbar in hand, and he was ready for whatever that thing was. Though he was not ready for the size of it.
"A black hand crept through the cat flap. Thump. It moved outwards further, revealing a huge, black forearm, bending all sides of the gap. The hand moved upwards and searched for the door handle before pawing at it, trying to get it to go downwards. The door eventually opened and the arm swiftly withdrew back outside, something else giving the door a push open.
"Pete was paralyzed once again; the hell was this thing? He kept questioning it, over and over. He wasn't asleep, he knew that much. Everything felt too real. His loud, throbbing heart, punching his sternum with every beat. His lungs, powerfully pumping air in and out, in and out, his body creating a maddening rhythm, screaming at him to move. And so he did.
"But as Pete walked through that door, he saw no monster. He looked to the left; forest. He looked to the right; a road. He looked ahead; yet more forest. The thing was gone.
"The air was still for the first time that night. The wind was cool and apathetic. The horizon was beautiful and crisp. He let himself calm down. He'd been on a roller coaster.
"As he let himself relax, he started to enjoy the atmosphere of this night. The wooshing sound of leaves on trees, the soothing, smooth sounds of cars in the distance. The sound of crickets clicking and frogs croaking. All along, Pete just wanted this horror to end, and finally, he felt like he had. He had faced this monster and chased it off somehow. Heh, maybe he was more fearsome than he thought?
"He pondered his brief victory, not realising that there weren't any crickets, and that the clicking was happening right above him.
"They say that he was found in his bed. He died of dehydration, apparently having falling into some sort of coma in his sleep, being stuck there for about a week. His face was a grimace of fear, and his left hand held a tight grip on an old rusty crowbar. Coroners had to pry it from his hands due to rigor mortis. They also had to call in some animal control, too; when they found Pete, Dog was sat right beside him, ready to fight off any intruders that tried to get at his owner. They tried to get him, but he escaped.
"Shortly after that, the house was put up for sale, but nobody bought it, not after what happened to Pete. It's said that when a few kids broke into it about a decade ago, they found the remains of Dog, curled up on Pete's bed, like he curled up to sleep, trying- just like Pete- to wake up from the nightmare. And that's that.
"Yeah, yeah," Richard agreed, "I know, I know. Anyway, that's my story out. Who next?"
Only once the group had come full circle did a thought strike the hockey masked man like a sucker punch. Swearing to himself from within the headwear, he clapped for the flashlight. “So uh, new question guys,” Nervous chuckles snuck out of his lungs as he scratched the back of his head, “Who wants to live the next horror story?”
“Kinda forgot to bring water for the fire... Lake’s about a mile out. Any takers?”