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Dark Days Writing Event Winners

Now that October has come to a close so has the Dark Days Writing Event. And what an event it was. You were asked to bring your spookiest stories to the table and you didn’t fail to deliver.

AkuKV36

It wasn’t easy and there was a lot of debate about who should win. So many amazing stories. It was difficult to decide, who knew so much fear could be put into two sentences or a short story?

The first round asked you to put together a short two sentence horror story. That’s no small task but you really stepped forward.

The winner of the round was won by StaccatoLegato who came up with this harrowing story.

I asked God to bring Daddy back out of the mist … and God brought Daddy back … and Daddy dragged Mommy away. It’s all my fault.” 

Second place went to Methoneiros who has some strong images of the filth

“The filth-twisted creature shattered into a million pieces. Yet, I knew that I could not break all mirrors.”

The final winner (but equally as chilling) was Starwatcher who took us back to Kingsmouth.

“At Journey’s End, the dead body of a woman who hanged herself because she lost her husband to the deadly fog, was slowly swinging in the mist. The creature took her down with a single hard and gruesome rip and dragged her into the sea, after all, she was HIS wife.”

 

The second part of the contest tasked saw people write short stories of less than 1000 words. From experience this is no easy task and reading through them was just as difficult. There is some really creative stuff in there.

First place went to Brenda who created both a sweet and horrifying story.

Teddy Lives

The garden buzzed and hummed in the sunlight, a girl nestled down among the flower beds, dark hair a tangle, protruding out from petaled walls. All around her golden lights and pretty bees twisted and flickered, curious of her game but fearful of her teeth. She laughed and thrust her hands deep into the soil, pulling forth her prize. She’d buried the rabbit a week before, and sat on it’s bed, all patience and waiting, as the black tendrils grew through his fur and his flesh turned to maggot and rot. She shook the rabbit, giggling in joy, and held it up to show the stuffed bear beside her. Teddy had seen better days. His stuffing poked out from loose seams and his head swung freely from one corner, as her mother swung freely in the branches far behind. Teddy’s void button eyes oozed with something thick, and she grinned to him, knowing that their game was good. She plopped the rabbit down between them, digging her tiny fists into the loose skin of its body, peeling it away in chunks.

“We have to dig deeper to find the good bits, Teddy.”

Teddy watched in silent agreement as she pulled a small jagged knife from beneath her billowy dress.

“Deeper and deeper.”

She giggled and tore into the rabbit, humming a lullaby to Teddy as she worked.

“A small mammal heart, and a noose of strong gut, black dirt and black tendrils, pull life to what’s not.”

Teddy’s head rolled from where it had balanced on his shoulders, but she didn’t mind. She knew that supporting a friend when they were a bit off was more important then teaching them manners. Humming and singing she turned back to Teddy, he rolled is head again as she lifted him gently to her lap, bloody digits smearing into his curly hide.

“Just need a little room.” She reached into his neck and wiggled her fingers to shape a nest in his fluff filling. “Sorry, this might hurt a bit.”

She grimaced on his behalf as she scooped the rabbit’s squishy heart up into her palm, carefully positioning it in the fluffed hollow she’d made of his insides. She scooped some dirt up in her hands to fill the void around his new heart, and tenderly squished his remaining fluff to seal the pocket. She balanced him in her lap and lifted his head up onto his shoulders, hugging him against her chest as she reached once more for rabbit and knife.

“Just a little longer.” Thick, black film oozed from Teddy’s eyes as she cut a length of intestine from their dead rabbit friend. Once she had a length in hand, she dropped the knife and turned back to Teddy, whispering secret words as she wound the guts around his torn out neck, looping the intestine at the end so it would hold in place. Squeezing him tight, she kissed the black ooze tears from his face and set him before her, planting her fists in the dirt as she whispered again.

The wind whipped up around her and she watched as Teddy shook in his seat. Finally he stood, tottering uncertainly for a moment, before lifting his arms and gazing up into her face.

She jumped to her feet and cheered, Teddy jumped silently beside her and they danced around the rabbit’s carcass. “I’m so glad you’re with me now, Teddy. I knew momma’s words were good for something.”

Silently he reached out and hand in hand they skipped through the garden, black tendrils snaking up in their wake.

Second place went to IndridCold13 who had a message from John in the most distressing manner.

Mark’s Discovery

On Tuesday evening, Mark came home from work and discovered that his roommate’s head had exploded.

The previous Friday morning, Luke and his friends, Rick and Jude, had departed the duplex that Mark and Luke shared, bound for the eastern coast of Solomon Island for some very late-season offshore fishing. They weren’t expected back until Monday evening, but when Mark woke up on Sunday, he saw Luke’s truck parked out front. He discovered Luke sitting on the back stoop looking pale and drunk, slurring the few words he spat in Mark’s direction, and grinning perversely.

“Nothing out there to catch?” Mark inquired cautiously, weary of his roommate’s drunken leer.

“Sure. Plenty.” Luke wobbled to and fro a bit, glaring over his glasses at Mark. “I got enough.” His grin widened, stretching out to an uncomfortable looking grimace that bared nearly all his teeth at once.

“Good for you. Jude and Rick do as well as you?” Mark looked down and brushed some leaves off of the handrail in order to break his gaze with Luke.

“No,” He paused. “Not as good as me. They’re still out there.”

“Ah, well. Good, good. More fish in the sea. Literally. I gotta get to work, man. See you later. Have fun.” Mark hurriedly opened the screen door and walked into the apartment. He hated when Luke got into these weird moods. Last winter, he’d been laid off through much of the season, and had taken to getting drunk and taking digs at Mark on a semi-regular basis. After he passed through that phase, he was melancholy for a good month and a half. It kept Mark off-center and nervous for most of the winter, and that was a feeling he wasn’t eager to revisit.
This seemed… different, though. The gray pallor, that fishy, confused stare; like Mark was a sign that Luke couldn’t quite make out the words on —— and that grin —— it was much more unnerving than your average frustrated, unemployed drunk.

Mark gathered his things and his thoughts and hopped in his car to head to work. As he was pulling away, he noticed that none of Luke’s fishing gear was in the back of his truck. He hadn’t noticed it in anywhere in the house, either. Over the course of the next two evenings, Mark sometimes heard Luke moving sluggishly around in his room, but he never left its confines. Sunday morning, it turned out, had been the last time Mark would ever see the Luke he knew.

Sometime Tuesday afternoon, an oily, black trunk erupted from Luke’s head and stretched upward, where it spread across the living room ceiling in squirming, gore-streaked, black rivulets. When Mark returned from work, he was immediately greeted with the vision of Luke, his head completely destroyed from the bridge of the nose upward, standing in front of the couch, pulled erect by the spire of slick, black filth protruding from his skull. His mouth was slack and encrusted with dried, bloody foam. His arms were pulled up, perpendicular to his body, by tendrils of the black ichor that dripped down from the main mass on the ceiling. The trunk itself was covered in dozens of mouths, licking at the air and grinning the same grim grin Luke had been wearing when he’d returned from his fishing trip two days ago.

Mark’s vision blurred, and he felt like the earth below him was giving way. The moments he stood there, trying to take in the horror in front of him, dilated into minutes, as his brain did gymnastics trying to correlate what he saw with something that could actually happen. Reason soon sloughed from his mind, and he turned, blind with fear, and ran to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. He locked it and fell to the floor, his mind still burning with the sight of Luke, crucified, nearly decapitated by, and infested with some kind of living, black tar.

Overloaded with fear, trying desperately to deny what he knew was real and waiting just on the other side of the door, his mind unfurled, and he lost consciousness.

He was awoken some time later by a voice reverberating through wall between him and the living room.

“Hiya, Chuck.”

The voice sounded like a rake scraping across ductwork on the other side of a walkie-talkie.

“Chuck. You there, buddy?”

“Mark. It’s… Mark,” he replied to the voice. Why was he speaking to this thing? He couldn’t quite grasp why. The terror he felt before had come unattached from him. He could still feel it, but it was as if it was beside him, no longer within him.

A thousand flies buzzing against a window pane, the voice spoke. “I have a secret I need to tell you, Chuck. Then I need you to tell it to everyone you meet.”

“Won’t be much of a secret anymore if I tell everybody.”

“It’s too good a secret to keep, Chuck. Too juicy. Come out here.”

“Can’t you just tell me from there?” Mark was nearly crying, nearly laughing.

“It’s not that easy, Chuck.” The voice became more forceful, sheet metal rending in a wind storm. “You can’t just speak the sacred symmetries of the abyss aloud. If I tried, your poor brain would probably hemorrhage so it hard it’d shoot your eyeballs across the room. I need to whisper it into you, Chuck.”

“I…” Mark hesitated, choking back sobs.

“I CAN COME IN THERE AND DRIVE MY TONGUE THROUGH YOUR HEAD AND ACHIEVE THE SAME EFFECT, BUT IT’S MORE PLEASANT FOR US BOTH IF YOU JUST WALK OUT HERE.” The voice shrieked, no longer out loud, but in Mark’s head.

Mark opened the bathroom door and walked toward the figure in the center of the living room. He stopped about a foot in front of it, looked up at the mass of writhing mouths and closed his eyes, ready to receive the boiling black gospel.

 

Third place in this round went to Mellified who showed us the full horror of being a bee.

 

She drowned. Again.

***

Back to life:

Under two kilometres of Norwegian Sea.

Lungs filled with salty water.

Every cell screaming out.

A small metal prison.

In absolute cold.

In the dark.

She drowned. Again.

***

Back to reality:

She’d been on a fishing boat tracking a Norwegian ice-breaker returning from deep ice when the unimaginable had happened. Huge arms had casually grabbed her boat from beneath and effortlessly dragged it down and down, folding the hull around her cabin like paper. The vessel was left like a broken child’s toy on the shelf.

She drowned. Again.

***

Back to the here and now:

Focus. She must be too far from an anima well to resurrect there. Possibility of Templar rescue – slim at best. They knew her last position but how could they reach her? No weapons, but she had been wearing her lifejacket and it now kept her pressed against the top of the steel cabin that was her prison.

She drowned. Again.

***

Back to life:

Under two kilometres of Norwegian Sea.

Lungs filled with salty water.

Every cell screaming out.

A small metal prison.

In absolute cold.

In the dark.

She drowned. Again.

***

Back to reality:

How long could she keep coming back to life? How long would her Anima last? Why couldn’t she stop singing that damn Soul II Soul song? Ah yes – it had been on the radio before she had gone down. She craved release.

She drowned. Again.

***

Back to the here and now:

Focus. She turned inward and examined her Anima core – a small beacon of light and warmth. She noted the capacity. She mentally examined the rest of her – wait … there …

She drowned. Again.

***

Back to life:

Under two kilometres of Norwegian Sea.

Lungs filled with salty water.

Every cell screaming out.

A small metal prison.

In absolute cold.

In the dark.

She drowned. Again.

***

Back to reality:

Her body was producing more Anima than her violent resurrections were taking away. Just. If she focused she could add it to her core – a tiny amount at a time. A vanishingly small drop at a time. With enough Anima she could blast out of the steel prison and her lifejacket would carry her to the surface.

She drowned. Again.

***

Back to the here and now:

Focus. How long would that take? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months?

She drowned. Again.

***

Back to life:

Under two kilometres of Norwegian Sea.

Congratulations to all the winners and to everyone who entered, all the stories were amazing quality and it really was difficult to pick the winners. Thanks to Djinngi for organising the event and for allowing us to be part of the judging process along with The Secret Associates.

All the entries will be available to read in an easy to read document soon you’ll be able to find a link to that here when it becomes available. Look out for more contests like this from DJinngi in the near future.

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The Hat is Here.

The new Item of the Month is here and it’s the one we’ve all been asking for. The Developer’s have finally buckled and put Scrivnomancer’s hat in-game. And it is amazing.

Kle-2015-11-01-18-10-02

Called Nyarlatophat you can get it now from the Item Store if you are a subscriber or grand master. If you aren’t then this is one month that you will want to be subscribed for.

Head in-game and press , to access the store or you can access the store from a browser here and have it ready and waiting for you when you next boot up the game.

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