I saw this article and I thought, "PFFT. YWS writers can do much better than these typo-ridden stories."
Write a chilling horror story in only two sentences!
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.
"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach
Lighting flashes, illuminating my bedroom as I hear another bone-chilling sob come from my closet. I freeze as the sob turns suddenly into an ear-splitting scream, then abruptly cuts off.
Looking at the hands of the time we've been given If this is all we got and we gotta start thinking If every second counts on a clock that's ticking Gotta live like we're dying...
The headless figure lay motionless in a puddle of dark red blood as I cautiously made my way around it, paying little heed to the oh so common crime. Suddenly, I heard a scuffling behind me and felt a cold, wet hand grab my ankle.
Spoiler! :
I struggled a bit to keep this in two sentences and I'm not very good at horror, but I think I did pretty good (for the third post)
"I remember I posted Klingon and it made the mods super hard" -Willard
Prok once said something about Nate and apple pie. I forget the context.
I locked up the store only to find one of the mannequins outside, its plastic fingers wrapped around a bloody knife. When its head rotated completely backwards to face me, it was the exact model of my face with the exception of certain grotesque, bloody features.
Suddenly, the bloody corpse started jerking violently, and then lay still. "BRAINS..."
“Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like.” -Lemony Snicket
"Never laugh at live dragons, Bilbo you old fool!" -J.R.R.Tolkien
He wheeled the dead girl into the elevator and pressed the button to take the corpse down to the icy depths of the mortuary's basement. But as the elevator began to descend, the girl's cold white hand reached out and grabbed his wrist with bony fingers.
The church pastor stepped out into the graveyard, where his wife was buried. Suddenly, the dirt on her grave erupted as a pale hand reached out, grabbing the air.
I woke up one night to the sound of my mother calling me from downstairs. As I walked towards her voice in the hall, I was suddenly yanked into a room where my mother stood, shutting the door and frantically saying to me, "I heard that too."
-"Lets be real here. Unicorns don't exist. -"Then you must not either."
The teacher handed us the exams and my eyes quickly skimmed over the questions I was about to spend an hour answering. None of these were on the study guide.
I walked - crept suspiciously, rather - down the strangling corridor, a solitary bead of sweat dripping off of my head onto the desert eagle I held pointed at the ground with both hands. Approaching the end of the hall, a light breeze passes by my face and the back of my head, alleviating my rather saturated expression as I turn and begin to recite the typical line - "All's clear down here, boys!" - before realizing that it's rather hard to receive the All Clear when your head is rolling roughly five feet from your body...and the bodies of those around you.
"Why do I need money to live? Can't I just, like, photosynthesize or something?"
A burning pain as something cut into my flesh, something so hot it must have been taken out of Hell itself as I screamed in agony, wishing only death.
It didn't come.
((This is an edited excerpt from Shadowsong))
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
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