October Vignette

[Christoph]

With Halloween fast approaching, the October Vignette Contest will celebrate the dark and scary. For this prompt, your character is lost and alone in a dark place, being stalked by something horrifyingly beyond his or her comprehension and ability to fight.

This contest closes on November 5th, 11:59 PM EST. Good luck!

[Dead & Walking]

Grond dragged himself through the dark hallway of this great mansion as quickly as possible. He had to get away from it, the thing that was after him. He picked up his pace as he heard the jingle of the bells that gave away the creatures position.

This creature that was a total opposite of Grond. Grond, a creature of Death itself ran from the creature of Life, Prosperity and Joy. This creature was... a unicorn?

That's right, the undead general was afraid of this girly creature. However there was a reason for his fear. This one creature is one that would always stay immune to the Zombie Disease. This one creature, Grond would never be able to turn. This One creature could completely destroy the Zombie Apocalypse that Grond wanted to start. And the reason for this, magic immune system. A Unicorn's immune system was so powerful that any non-magical disease that entered the creatures body would be destroyed on contact. And you can't forget the magical horn. That horn could blast Grond with a magic that would revert him back to full human. So Grond dragged himself through the mansion as he tried to lose the creature of his nightmares.

He had to hide until the beast was gone. Finally, he found a room with a door that he could shut. He quickened his pace and made it behind the and have it shut, only to turn around to find hundreds of unicorns in the room. Grond did the only sensible thing he could. He fainted.

If he had taken a second look, he would have noticed that they were all stuffed unicorns that were lined up on the wall like trophies. In fact, that is exactly what they were, the other unicorn was nothing but a unicorn hunter that wore his first kill's pelt. The man entered the room next store to fall asleep. The bells at the base of his unicorn robe jungled as the robe fell to the floor.

"Man I need sleep," he said as his eyes drooped and he fell asleep.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I will never understand what it is with dusty old tomes and eldritch tentacle sanity monsters from the unknown; but to have something like... like this come after me, I must have really pissed off the abyss by attempting to pilfer this book.

I couldn't tell you what was written inside. All that I could guess was that it was something really important on a cosmic level, considering the pile of gold I was given to retrieve it and the client's vague ramblings of terror and darkness that had suddenly decided to suddenly rise in my throat like bile as I darted through the crumbling remains of the mansion.

My breath was ragged, my face twisted in fear and panicked determination as I raced as quick as I could back towards the door--any door--that would lead me outside and away from this wretched place. But, for the life of me, I couldn't retrace my steps the way I had come. All of the hallways were different. Nothing was in the right place. Everything about this fucking hellhole was somehow different.

I don't know what was happening, but for the first time in a long time, I felt afraid. Utterly terrified.

A wooden door several feet to my left burst into splinters as a batch of dark, inky, featureless tentacles flooded into the hallway, their lengths flailing about madly, trying to wrap themselves around me as I rushed on by. I juked to the right, quick enough on my feet to avoid one feeling one tentacle's slimy grip around my arm.

I have to get out of here. But where do I go? Nothing is the same as it was minutes ago! Where in the seven hells is the friggin' exit?!

My mind and heart raced each other. I clutched the book even tighter, pressing it hard against my chest as I dashed down the darkened hallways of this warped, decrepit mansion. All around me, doors continued to open as I ran past; thick, writhing masses of the eldritch abominations pouring out into the hallways from the unknowable depths.

An echoing screech shook the hallway, piercing me right down the core of my being, scraping the insides of my skull like nails on a chalkboard. An icy chill shot down my spine. I winced. I grit my teeth. I tried to push through the horrible feeling. And in that moment, I tripped.

In my mad dash, I failed to see the furniture that had been strewn about the darkened hallway. My right shin slammed hard against the corner of an upturned table, and it caught me unawares. I tumbled to the floor, landing on my shoulder hard and cursing harder at both myself for my ineptitude and the white-hot pain that coursed through my lower leg. But still, I held on tight to the book. I could not let go of this book. I would die before I did. They would have to tear it from my cold, dead fingers before they could have it back.

As I tried to rise to my feet, I heard the splintering of another door to my left. I scrambled to regain my footing, but I was just a little too slow. One of the inky tentacles managed to slap itself across the side of my head.

My vision went white. I felt... something reach inside my mind, casually browsing through my subconscious like a library patron before I could pull myself away. There was this searing pain that ripped through the left side of my face that only intensified as the split-second passed before I was on my feet again, this time moving slower and more unaware of my surroundings.

I was focused on one thing. I couldn't think about what was happening. No, thinking was bad. Acting. Acting is good. I need to act. I need to get out of the house. I need to get out now.

I continued to tear through hallways and around corners, desperately clinging onto that cursed book, desperately looking for a way out. I was tired. I needed to rest. But I knew that I couldn't. I wouldn't survive for three seconds if I stopped now. But there was this nagging little voice in the back of my head. It was soft. It was calm. It was telling me that it was okay to stop and rest; that I would be safe, that I would be taken care of."

I shook my head furiously, a tear beginning to run down my pale cheek. "No," I screamed at the top of my lungs. "No! Fuck you! Fuck all of you! I have to get out of here!"

The voice, still soft, still calm, reassured me that it was I was going to be just fine if I stopped trying to escape, and that I would be taken care of.

I pressed on, trying desperately to ignore the soothing words of whatever had invaded my mind. Another hallway. Another blind corner turning into the unknown, which of course turned out to be another hallway.

This continued on for several minutes until I finally slowed down, out of breath and admitting that I was well and truly indeed lost in this labyrinthine mansion. My mind filled with self-loathing and anger, which settled into a sort of resignation that I may well and truly die here. I looked at the book that I held in my white-knuckled clutches. It was an unassuming little book, bound in leather, with a foreign script I had never seen before burned into it.

There were still sounds echoing through the hallways of doors being blown off their hinges, framed paintings falling off walls, and shit being knocked over and breaking against the floor as the unspeakable horrors that possessed this cursed mansion fought to catch up with me. The little voice in the back of my head reassured me that everything was going to be alright, and I was beginning to believe it. And that's what truly frightened me.

My mind screamed at me to do otherwise, but I felt myself slide down against the wall and sit down on the cold, carpeted floor below me. I felt a wave of serene calm flow through me as I hugged the book against my chest and rest my chin on top of it. My eyes slowly fluttered closed, enveloping me in complete darkness.

No, you stupid bitch! Get up! Get moving! Whatever it is in this fucking place, it's going to get you! You're going to die in here!

"No, it's alright. You're perfectly safe, Madison. Everything's going to be alright."

[Leopold]

“What do you expect me to do?” asked Ruby.

In the darkness of the Sylph mines, the husband and wife duo stared one anther down from across a wine stained table. Bloodied and tired, the beleaguered pair fought a silent war of words unspoken and plans actualised.

“Try harder.”

“Easy for you to say,” she spat in reply.

“What. Does. That. Mean?”

Leopold’s tone was less than appreciative. By way of developing his glare further, he leant forwards and ran his finger around the edge of his vapour-filled glass.

“There is a Rakhshasha resident in these tunnels and neither of us has the ability, guile, and fortitude to contend with his power.”

They had stumbled into the mines a week ago, though to them the shadows had subsumed their understanding of night turning into day. Hitherto, either of them remembered to take note of how they had entered the mine.

“Well I would like to point out my dear that we are in this together.” He leant back, defeated as ever by her ability to upend his strength with her typically hostile flair. “So. If you have any better ideas, I am all ears.”

By way of testing their relationship further, the merchant stood from the table and gingerly approached the exit. The portal, a red brick portcullis into the nightmare beyond howled and wailed.

“Walk out into the mines, distract the beast for all of five minutes, and I’ll see you in whatever new form your fickle ancestry decides is appropriate for this day and age.” She lifted her hand to the empty glass and with a wistful longing, called on ancient magic to refill it.

“I die. You drink.” Leopold rolled his eyes. For once, he began to feel genuine fear. He had an emotion like that once, before the War of the Tap. “Great,” he spat.

Heavy footfalls and swearing echoed in the corridor for several minutes as Leopold Winchester did his wife’s duty. The darker it got, the colder it got, and fear swift turned to terror.

At the table, a redheaded matriarch morphed slowly into a feline headed cat. Long, white-tipped ears and a wicked smile formed the Rakhshasha’s features proper, and a smoking jacket and velvet waistcoat identified it as a particularly judicious and shrewd individual. He produced a red high-heel from beneath the table, bloodied on the strap, and set it down in place of the glass.

“Caramelised raven for desert, oh my,” it purred.

[The Muri]

Nothing changed. No matter how much she ran. All the skinny, dark skinned trees were the same. It was all a blur to blood shot eyes. No matter how much she ran, she couldn't race away - and this girl was pretty fast.

Breath by breath, she was losing it. Heavy gasps for air could not sooth aching lungs. Those lungs felt like they were on fire. Sweat droplets dripped from her, falling to the bottomless ground below.

Purple eyes darted left and right. Here, there was no light. The fear was like a blight, a poisonous snake lying in to bite.

She could not stop now that she had started. She still felt terrified. She had no idea what was behind her. But now, despite all her strength, there was only one thing this child could do against the nameless terror behind her.

Run.

She could not look behind her back, the terror was too much to stare in the face. Almost there, she cried in her head, echoing round and round, Keep going! Run, run, run!!

But she could not break away from it. It was a nameless, dark orb of black. Black as sin. Every time she even thought of it, it haunted her. And the more it loomed, the more it struck fright into her. For this, my friend, THIS was a monster like no other. The parent of all despair and hopelessness. It was the crutch. The crutch holding back even the most bold hearted at those worst moments. It was the plague, the disorder, the messed up demon, the stick against the head. It was fear itself...

[Philomel]

How can one even ...

"You cannot be here!" she gasped, eyes huge, wide open, staring in pure raw panic. "It is ... you are impossible!"

On the floor, fallen over. She was held up by her arms and on her rear end, looking up, no gazing up in horror at the creature above her. Leering over her, standing over her, his face a dark shadow of obscurity. She tried to scurry away on her arms, tried to drag her sorry form with her, but she could not get away. The faun-whore was caught, frozen in fear and some evil nature that pinioned her to the floor.

"You cannot exist," she screamed, lungs nearly fit to bursting with panicked air, "You are impossible!"

The impossible man took a step forwards, his devilish cloven hoof sliding with the scratch of a thousand nightmares over the floorboards. There was a dull fade scrape of metal on wood as he dragged the massive mace behind him, a rock of no mercy.

Her neck arched as her breathing got even faster, and her asophogas begged for more room. Airways clearer she suddenly let out a shriek, an ungodly shriek that filled the room, the chimney, the house and set the glass rattling in the window pane. Shhhuuddeerr ...

"YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE!"

Through the shadows a mouth parted in the face, and it was wickedly twisted and comprised of feral teeth. It grinned at her, shimmering white and baying with hunger.

"But if I am impossible ..." it hissed in a terrifyingly familiar tone, "If I am impossible, Philomel, dear child, then how can I be here? How can I be in the one place with you, when you have already stolen my life?"

Eyes widening. Eyes full of irrationality. She gasped as his face swooped forwards, bright shining eyes of malice coming for her to get their revenge.

"How can I be here when you were the one WHO KILLED ME?"

Scream. Scream for all it is worth. She could not move, she could never move, for now real shackles had bound themselves around her wrists and ankles. They had appeared from nowhere, but they were real enough, and they anchored her to these floorboards in this tiny wooden shack, keeping her there as the monster from her nightmares swept into full reality. His horns were like sickles in the moonlight, his teeth like daggers in a hole. His mace was a shimmering torture in the midst of all finality and it was this that he raised up, high into the air as he stoof above her, cackling away.

Cackling like the mad man he was. Cackle, cackle ...

"WHO KILLED ME!"

He launched with the mace. He threw it down, aiming with sweet power and hatred. It flew down, she could not move, and so there was no chance of him missing. Mace, spiked and angry aimed straight for her abdomen, for her pelvis. Where it would smash, sending the bone itself crumbling into a thousand peices of dust, and ending all chance of her ever succeeding as Matriarch of the world. Down, down, down, down ...

"Daddy!"

She screamed the one word she had never spoken before, but the demon did not stop. He did not falter. He just kept going, heartlessly, in the bid to slay his daughter.

[Eli]

"Oh sod." Eli thought. "What is it with demons and beans?"
------------

The third bean death had been a bit half hearted. Barely any malice to it. Just a "Here, eat these beans." and a horrible, lingering death. Everyone involved had seemed downright bored. Eli was unmoved by pity.

They'd be on him soon enough. Some kind of super duper demon scrying magic. The dicks. Eli sat down in the peaceful, sunny glade he had come back in. He waited. A half hour after the sun went down a shadow crested the treeline. Bigun. Kindof a half manta, half screaming squid, all tremendously impractical flight kind of a dude. Eli had decided to call him Marv.

"Behold mortal! I am" Marv began.

"Look, Marv I can tell you're new at this and the guys downstairs passed you my case file. But the thing is, I don't torture. Been at this a long time. You develop a bit of a thick skin. How's about we just call it a draw, and go home."

"Aw shucks mister," said Marv in the voice of 12 little girls and one dying cat, "I'd love to, but I got's me a job an' ah' a aims ta' finish what ah start."

The sarcasm was the worst. "Just get it over with." Eli sighed. Marv obliged. The old replace your blood with fire ants trick. Eli yawned.

"Oh well. 18th time is the charm, eh Marv?"

"Oh fuck this. I'm going home." And in a trice the demon was gone.

"Well now what am I gonna do all day?" Eli asked no one.

[Erikar]

'ohgodswhymewhywhywhy'

The mantra repeated endlessly in his head, drowning out the smacksmacksmack of his pale feet on the stone. Fear clouded the boy's mind and gave wings to his flight; nothing mattered but survival. That.. creature.. that abomination following him couldn't be far behind. He turned a corner, barely dodging the drunkard laying against the the wall. Erikar hoped with all his heart the monster would stop and choose the easier prey instead. 'Maybe,' he thought 'it'll get him and leave me be pleasegodsplease.'

Another quick turn brought him to an empty alley, the air thick with the stench of filth. The boy halted, pressing against the wall and holding his breath. He brushed the messy tangle of ruby curls out of his face and poked his head out, watching for any sign of the thing. His brilliant emerald eyes shone brightly, a pair of stars in the dark shadows of the city. There was no sound save the quiet mumbling of the sleeping drunk. The world seemed to hold its breath with him; then, a faint scratching set his heart beating furiously once again. Erikar's eyes darted up and down the street; no sign of the creature, but the scratching kept growing louder!

His breath forced its way out, his lungs pumping faster and faster to match the beat of his heart.

Scratch-scratch-scratch

'Where the fu*# is it?!' His thoughts almost burst out of his mouth unbidden. The boy held them in by instinct alone; every muscle in his body tensed as he searched for one, just one visible sign to let him know where that thing was.

Scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch

A thought, marvelously simple and astonishingly important, occurred to him. He was a predator, and these were his streets. He attacked from.. above..

He craned his neck upwards in time to see the creature's grotesque face, all fangs and slimy skin, peek over the edge of the roof above him. A whimper escaped from his ghost-white lips.

'OhThaynepleaseno-notlikethis.'

Scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch

The creature's limbs, spindly and sharp and far too many, appeared next, bringing its long slug-like body with it. It left a trail of steaming ooze behind it as it crawled down the wall, its disgusting face twisted in a horrifying mockery of a smile. Erikar collapsed, screwing his eyes shut and hiding his face in his hands.

"ThisisjustadreamI'llwakeupinmyholeit'sjustadream. ."

He peeked through his hands. One wet, pulsating yellow eye, and that terrifying smile stared back.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!---"

[Hysteria]

The air whistled a mournful howl. Its cold fingers stroked the back of Talen’s neck, causing an involuntary shiver to run down his spine. The youth’s eyes were wide, blue ovals peering through the darkness of the hall way. His body was pressed against the wall, taking advantage of the many jutting stone pillars to remain hidden.

The Ixian castle had been a home for Talen. It carried with it fond memories of his past, memories that he held with him as close as a warrior holds his blade. Now those memories seemed far too distant. The smell of fear hung in the air instead. Fear of something that held vile intent towards the child.

*click click click*

Talen felt his whole body seized with fear as the footsteps echoed through the hallway. For the moment he was paralysed by inaction. Should he run? Should he fight? No. Not the latter, he knew he could not win. Talen’s turned to run, but his legs became jelly below him. He stumbled forwards, hand grasping at the wall for support as he forced his legs into moving.

On! On dammit!

The youth’s body kicked into gear, and his feet moved across the stone floor. His speed was always his ally, and once he got going he moved like a blur down the hallway. Behind he could hear his pursuers footfalls speeding up, joining the symphony that was his own.

Left, right, left, straight; Talen ran as fast as he could through the maze of corridors. He had at some point stopped running, and instead flew. The drop of speed he reasoned would be worth it for the silence. After a good ten minutes Talen feet touched the ground, then he dropped to his knees breathing hard. His body felt weak from the exertion, his cloths now damp from the touch of sweat. His blue eyes remained wide, starting down the hallway in case his pursue appeared, but there was only silence.

“Oh, N’Jal… what have i done to earn your wrath?” Asked Talen to the silence, and only silence responded. The next response was too real.

“Talen.” Said the voice.

Talen twisted away from the sound, his body jolting into action as he attempted to start running again. From the corner of his eye he could see a hand reach towards him. He tried to move, tried to run. The hand reached for his head and gripped his ear.

“Iieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Talen squealed.

“Dammit Talen.” Kyla stared down at the squirming Talen, “I told you to clean your room.”

Kyla turned and started towards Talen’s quarters, dragging Talen behind her.

“People are complaining about the smell. Even the undead members are complaining. The UNDEAD! So help me, you will clean your room.”

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” But Talen’s cries fell on deaf ears.

[Christoph]

All right! Sorry for the delay, but let's do this.

Dead & Walking: Your take on the prompt was interesting and displayed the very alien mindset of your character. I feel like your idea had great potential, but you definitely fell short on delivery. You rendered the situation more silly than frightening and I couldn't take it seriously. You didn't build any tension, and only partially because your entry was so short. The twist at the end could have been interesting, but I don't feel you earned it during the rest of the vignette, because it felt random and nonsensical.

BlackAndBlueEyes: On the whole, you have a solid voice and Madison's color commentary makes your writing fun. Your use of Cosmic Monstrosity (TM) was pretty standard, but more in a Classic rather than Cliche manner. Unfortunately, your opening failed to hook me. It felt so casual that it delivered little tension or suspense. I could have chalked that up to the character if your third paragraph didn’t start with: “My breath was ragged, my face twisted in fear and panicked determination as I raced as quick as I could back towards the door”. You’re effectively telling me that she’s afraid, but not showing it, not making me feel it or otherwise actually convincing me. I also think you could have handled the foreign voice in her head with more subtlety, but that’s a more minor gripe. Beyond that, your pacing was solid and you build up decent tension throughout the story, leading up to a conclusion that was definitely more solid than your opening.

Leopold: I liked your dialogue. It seems you have banter down to a science. I did have some trouble always knowing who was saying what, though. The pacing, however... That could use some work. You didn’t build much tension. It was just banter banter, there’s a Rakhshwhatever around, backstory, banter banter, hey a swirling portal of madness, more banter. Nothing carried meaningful weight or felt threatening. The story itself never build to anything and didn’t really go anymore. I liked the idea of a foe that was both impossibly confusing and terrifying, though. I also liked that you wrote a story where your characters weren’t literally running from something.

The Muri: Your intro was solid from a storytelling perspective, but weak on the technical end. The sentence structures were odd and an overabundance of weak verbs compromised the tension. It could have been quite good, though. I liked how your story largely focused on the concept of running and of being chased. I kinda wish you didn’t mention the whole evil black orb of doom thing at all, because that diminished the effectiveness. Also, the lack of build up and resolution hurt you.

Philomel: You had some good ideas, but your writing’s repetitiveness bogged things down. You had some good descriptions, though I might have preferred them more gritty and visceral for the type of story you wrote. From a story perspective, your entry was rather one-note. The tension didn’t build very much, and while you actually included a functional conclusion, it felt more like the second half of a full vignette rather than the whole thing.

Eli: I see you’re trying to be Jim Butcher, but remember that he would use humor to both deflect and enhance terror. You entry was amusing enough. I respect that you tried to flip the prompt around, but instead you basically just ignored it entirely. The prompt wasn’t “Show us how badass and witty your character is in the face of evil.” As a result, there was no tension, no challenge for the character.

Erikar: Yours was the strongest opening. It kicked things off with suitable tension and set the scene. Unfortunately, your entry declined after the first couple paragraphs. It didn’t continue building up and just sort of fell into the ending. You faithfully stuck to the prompt but in a very basic manner. In terms of the writing itself, yours was solid. That said, increasing font size for the scratch-scratch-scratch parts felt like a cheap trick to me. I would have preferred cues in the writing to achieve the effect.

Hysteria: Your opening was also strong, though it lacked the punch of Erikar’s in favor of a little more subtlety. You transitioned from your first paragraphs more smoothly, though. You fell short with TOO much mystery. While you don’t want the monster stumbling slowly down a well-lit hallway, you can give a little more. Sounds, feelings, fleeting shadowy glimpses. Of course, it is soon revealed that this excessive mysteriousness was to obfuscate for your ‘twist’ ending, but that just felt like cheating. I think that was the difference that instead of making me laugh at the ending, made me just groan.


First Place: BlackAndBlueEyes (900 EXP and 150 GP)
Second Place: Erikar (240 EXP and 100 GP)
Third Place: Philomel (250 EXP and 50 GP)

Dead & Walking (100 EXP)
Leopold (300 EXP)
The Muri: (100 EXP)
Eli: (100 EXP)
Hysteria (600 EXP)