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Horrifying Events #1: The Crack in the Floor

by Necromancer14


I was moving into a new house. It was located in the country, and the former owners had sold it for a ridiculously cheap price. When I had seen how cheap it was, I bought it immediately. Though it was quite a nice house, the family seemed to have been desperate to get rid of it. 

I pulled up into the driveway in my small car. It was summer time. I looked up at the house. It was a decently sized house, especially for just one person. It was painted bleach white. The yard had two maple trees, and the rest was unkempt cornfields. there was a barn and a tiny silo in the back, painted the traditional red-and-white. I felt extremely lucky, but I puzzled about why the family who lived here before sold it for such a ridiculously cheap price, or even wanted to sell it in the first place. It was a mystery that I couldn't solve.

I opened the door to get out when my phone made a ding sound. I pulled it out and looked at the text from my brother. Hi George! did u check out your house yet? I cant wait to c it!! read the text. Frank was my younger brother, only twelve. I was a freshman in college. Now you know exactly how cheap this house was, if a college freshman could afford to buy it with cash. 

I sent a reply; It's really nice I typed, and it was, too. The property had nine acres and the house was in excellent condition. I walked up to the front door, pulled out my new key, and walked inside. I explored everywhere, eventually arriving at the master bedroom. I walked in, and the first thing I noticed was the excellent condition it was in, just like the rest of the house. The second thing I noticed was a large crack in the hardwood floor. I walked over to examine it, noticing that there was some black goopy stuff in it. 

Gross. I thought to myself. I went downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a cloth, then headed back upstairs. I scooped out the goopy black stuff and went to rinse out the cloth in the sink. Suddenly, it wriggled a little bit. I jumped and stared at the cloth, waiting. It didn't do it again.

"Must be my imagination," I muttered. I went over to the bathroom and rinsed it off in the sink. Immediately a putrid smell filled my nostrils and I gagged, dropping the cloth. The sink began to pour out disgusting gas that smelled strongly like rotten fish. I gagged again and left the bathroom. I waited for the smells to go away, and then I went back in and thoroughly cleaned it out. What on Earth is this stuff? I thought, disgusted. I almost gagged again at the memory.

At supper time I ordered pizza. I waited until the doorbell rang and I went over to answer it. I opened the door to the pizza delivery guy who gave me my pizza. I paid, brought in the pizza, and ate four slices. I put it in the fridge and went upstairs to go to bed. 

As I entered the room I noticed that there seemed to be more black goop in the strange crack. Weird, I thought. I'm sure I had gotten it all. I guess not.

After I had cleaned it out, (not in the sink; I did it outside this time), I went to bed. I felt uneasy. A strange dread of the tar-like goop filled my head. I glanced down at it, almost expecting it to jump up at me. What is wrong with me? I told myself. It's probably just some old food that the former owners left on the floor and didn't clean up. I forced my uneasiness away, and eventually fell asleep. 

I awoke the next morning and got out of bed. The morning sun shone through the one window in the bedroom at a spot on the floor. I stared down, and frowned. The crack was somehow filled with goop again, overflowing, even. Definitely more than what was there before. I got up and cleaned out the crack again, which also seemed bigger, all the while trying to ignore the uneasiness that started attacking me again.

My Mom dropped Frank off to see my new house, and he went around exploring it, moving on to the backyard when he was done. I thought about the black substance in my bedroom all day, and uncomfortably remembered how cheaply the nice house had sold for. I googled the black goop, but couldn't find anything like it online. 

At supper time I went outside to find Frank. I couldn't find him anywhere. I called his name multiple times, and I combed the entire property, but he wasn't there. I began to get seriously worried. I called my Mom. It wasn't like Frank to disappear for a long period of time. He usually got bored pretty quickly, and would eventually just end up playing videogames. I hope he's not hurt. I thought.

"Hey, Mom, I can't find Frank. He's not on the property," I said.

"Who's Frank?" asked my Mom. my blood ran cold. My Mom never did any sort of pranks.

"What?" I said. "You know, my younger brother."

"What younger brother? You don't have a younger brother, George," answered my Mom.

"This isn't funny, Mom. I really can't find him," I spoke, concluding that this was some sort of sick prank. My Mom never did pranks, but I couldn't think of any other explanation besides amnesia.

"I don't know what your talking about, George. I don't have any son other than you," said my Mom. I hung up, my legs weak. What on Earth was happening? I went up to my room to think, my head pounding. On the floor, goop was completely covering the crack, in a mound the size of a dinner plate. I cleaned it up yet again, my hands shaking. What is this stuff? I thought. I began to hate it, even though it hadn't done anything yet. I recalled uncomfortably how it had wriggled in my hand the day before. I really, really hope that was my imagination. I thought desperately. 

I freaked out the whole day, worried about Frank, and about my Mom for not remembering him. 

I went to bed, feeling like something was super wrong with this house. I tried to tell myself that I was just unlucky, but I couldn't quite manage it. I couldn't explain away the impossibly expanding goop, or my Mom's coincidental loss of memory. It was several hours before I went to sleep, and I didn't sleep very well. I had a dream about someone putting Jell-O on my leg and sloshing it around.

the next morning I realized that my leg had some black goop on it.

"Gross!" I yelled, horrified. I jumped out of bed and almost stepped in a mountain of the disgusting tar-like stuff. It was the size of a large sleeping bag and was spread out in a horribly obvious direction towards my bed. I was shaking all over. I ran around it and barreled down the stairs. I couldn't believe what was happening. It's a sick prank. It has to be, I wished. I began to see why the owners had sold it so cheaply.

I opened the fridge and ate the rest of my left-over pizza cold. I felt like I was going insane. I called my Mom again, but she still denied knowing anybody called Frank. I decided that I had imagined that I knew someone called Frank, and that I was truly going mad. The whole day I tried to distract myself, and I tried to remember Frank not being real. I couldn't. 

When evening came I was scared to go to bed. I eventually did, but I didn't go to sleep until one o'clock a.m. My dream was like the last one, except the Jell-O spread up my leg, with big oozing sounds. The guy spreading Jell-O on my leg suddenly pulled out a knife, and he began jabbing it into my leg. I awoke screaming. Then I looked at the disgusting black goop on my leg and felt another flash of pain. I screamed even louder. I pulled away from the stuff, but it stuck like glue.

There was tons of it. It was all the way from the crack to my leg, and it was super thick. Then I noticed something; it was moving. It was slowly oozing up my leg and was coming up in different parts of my bed as well. I screamed involuntarily.

As the goop oozed up my leg, I continued to feel intense bursts of pain on the parts that the goop was touching. I felt it wriggling into my flesh like a giant army of maggots, eating away. I tried to move away but it began to pull me out of bed, oozing under my pants and shirt. Where I didn't feel pain I felt the goop oozing up my body. It felt horrible, like a bunch of slugs were crawling up me under my clothing. 

It spread up to my chest, me screaming the entire time. I looked over the bed, and saw a most horrific sight. Half enveloped in the goop were skeletons, picked completely clean. Some were still intact, yet others were spread out. One of them, I noticed with absolute dismay, was wearing my brother Frank's ball cap.

His leering skull grinned up at me as the goop spread up to my neck, pulsating and bubbling. It began choking me as I felt it dig it's way into my gut further down. I couldn't feel my legs anymore, and when I saw part of my foot lift out of the goop for a split second, I saw it had already been stripped to the bone. The already unbearable pain became even worse, and I blacked out as the goop went into my mouth and down my throat. 

I died as the repulsive goop psychically wiped everyone's memory about me.

After the goop finished digesting me, it slowly oozed back inside the floor where it had been living and devouring people for the last twenty years.


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Fri Sep 13, 2019 9:23 pm
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TheMulticoloredCyr wrote a review...



Hi! So, it's been, admittedly, a little too long since the last time I reviewed anything. This is more of a warning that the formating and such of this is probably going to be a little rough around the edges because of how long I've been distracted. So, my apologies. I'm going to go through and nitpick quite a lot, then give my general thoughts at the end. Please, don't take my nitpicky preferences as an attack on your work or as evidence that I think it's terrible/horrible/the worst piece of writing I've ever laid eyes on. It's not. Especially not that last one (I have no idea who taught eight year old me how to write, but they need to be sorry. Those short stories were crimes against humanity, really). I actually really liked this work, I'm just going to go through and rip it to shreds.

I'm sorry.

So, with no further ado, let us begin.

I was moving into a new house. It was located in the country, and the former owners had sold it for a ridiculously cheap price. When I had seen how cheap it was, I bought it immediately. Though it was quite a nice house, the family seemed to have been desperate to get rid of it.


Here's your opening paragraph. Now, everyone says that this bit has to be your strongest piece. That every word must be perfectly crafted to grab your reader's attention or your work will be immediately put down and forgotten.

While that's untrue for the most part (you should have some kind of hook right away, but it doesn't have to be so extreme as everyone says it should be), your opener does have some other problems.

Number one: Repetition.

If you can avoid using the same word in a paragraph, you should. That goes double for descriptors. Tripple if you're describing the same thing.

The issue I'm seeing here specifically is the double use of the words 'house' and 'cheap'. The former of those can be excused in some cases, but here you could have replaced it with 'building', 'dwelling', or some other, more descriptive, noun meaning 'place where a person might live'.

With the word 'cheap', you could have told the readers about the low price of the house and about how cheap the family was selling it for.

Stull like that.

Varrying your word choice is really important for keeping readers engaged. When we read the same words over and over it becomes really noticable and jarring. It'll break the immersion, in a sense.

But enough about that, let's move on.

I pulled up into the driveway in my small car. It was summer time. I opened the door to get out when my phone made a ding sound. I pulled it out and looked at the text from my brother. Hi, George! did u check out your house yet? I cant wait to c it!! read the text. Frank was my younger brother, only twelve. I was a freshman in college. Now you know exactly how cheap this house was, if a college freshman could afford to buy it with cash.


Remember when I said I was nitpicky....yeah, ignore me if you feel like it.

The problems I see here are pretty simple. You deliver the exposition that he is a college freshman who paid for the house in cash in the same paragraph where you have him checking his text messages. The simple solution would be to move the exposition to the text messages and remove it entirely from the narration. Trust your readers to gather it from things other sources than you just telling it to them.

Maybe you could have Frank text the protagonist saying what he said in the message you wrote up for him, "Hi, George! did u check out your new house yet? I can't wait to c it!" then, the protagonist would reply with the fact that it was nice, all that would be the same, but then Frank would express how he thought George was the coolest person in the world for being able to pay cash for a house at his age. Then you could simply describe how the conversation turned to college stuff, but don't show it. Say that Frank asked about any pretty girls and the nicest teachers and such, but keep it in the narration. That would be downright boring to read for the majority of your readers, who are here for the horror, not the ideal chit chat. But, because the fact that the conversation happened delivers the exposition about how old the protagonist is, it's important for the readers to know that it happened.

Also, don't tell your readers to be surprised about his age and ability to buy a house. Let the be surpised about it.

It's more fun for everyone that way.

But, I shall move on before I bore you into the grave.

"Gross" I thought to myself. I went downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a cloth, then headed back upstairs. I scooped out the goopy black stuff and went to rinse out the cloth in the sink. Suddenly, it wriggled a little bit. I jumped and stared at the cloth, waiting. It didn't do it again.


This bit was just a little confusing because of the size of the crack. You don't really describe how big it is, other than the fact that it's 'large' and in the room. Does it cross the room? Is it near the bed? Is it big enough to make moving about the room difficult? Is it wide enough for a person to fit inside? Is it like the crack in 'Doctor Who' out of which Prisoner Zero escaped, where it just looks like the kind of crack you would find on the sidewalk or, well, in a wall but is still able to let stuff through via probably-space-magic-but-let's-call-it-science?

And if it's like that last one, how is the goopy stuff getting through? What does it look like?

I guess what I'm getting at here is a little more description would be nice.

Onward we march!

At supper time I ordered pizza. I waited until the doorbell rang and I went over to answer it. I opened the door to the pizza delivery guy who gave me my pizza. I paid, brought in the pizza, and ate four slices. I put it in the fridge and went upstairs to go to bed.


You say the word 'pizza' a distracting number of times in this paragraph.

But other than that, what did he do about the smell? If he's willing to order a pizza, then he should be willing to go out for food as well, so the fact that he stayed in tells me that he did something to get rid of it or it dissipated on its own because I know for a FACT that if something in the house smells like rotting flesh or other such nasty things, no one is going to want to eat in there (and I know that from personal experience. Multiple times. It's no fun.).

I awoke the next morning and got out of bed. The morning sun shone through the one window in the bedroom at a spot on the floor. I stared down, and frowned. The crack was somehow filled with goop again, overflowing, even. Definitely more than what was there before. I got up and cleaned out the crack again, which also seemed bigger.


Why hasn't he called anyone about the crack yet? You haven't established that he's particularly self-sufficient or that he's trying to prove something by taking care of it himself, so the fact that he didn't do what any rational person would do and call someone, the police, poison control, the former owners, his relator, anyone, about the situation is a little hard to believe. Not unbelievably hard, but it would be nice to know there was some kind of motive behind that choice.

I opened the fridge and ate the rest of my left-over pizza cold. I felt like I was going insane. I called my Mom again, but she still denied knowing anybody called Frank. I decided that I had imagined that I knew someone called Frank, and that I was truly going mad. The whole day I tried to distract myself, and I tried to remember Frank not being real. I couldn't.


The fact that the first thing he does after waking up and discovering strange magically-reappearing black goop on his leg is eat is such a mood, first of all, but second of all, why is that the first and only thing he does about it? If I were in his situation, I would be contacting friends and asking them about Frank, inviting them over to see the goop and give advice, that sort of thing. He isn't a loner as far as I can tell by the text, so why isn't he talking to anybody?




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Fri Sep 13, 2019 8:05 am
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Asith wrote a review...



Hello! I actually really like this story; I'm a sucker for creepy short stories :P
Here are some notes I made while reading through it, I hope they don't come across too harshly.

I was moving into a new house. It was located in the country, and the former owners had sold it for a ridiculously cheap price. When I had seen how cheap it was, I bought it immediately. Though it was quite a nice house, the family seemed to have been desperate to get rid of it.
Okay, this opening paragraph is a little dull; and opening paragraphs are the part of a story that absolutely cannot be dull! Start where the action is, don't tell us these boring (and a little cliche) details. I recommend starting at the next paragraph, and letting the reader know about the cheapness and the desperation of the previous owners through the thoughts of the main character. Have him remember the sale; have him notice the countryside. This lets you show us these details instead of telling us, and that's an important distinction!

I pulled up into the driveway in my small car. It was summer time. I looked up at the house. It was a decently sized house, especially for just one person. It was painted bleach white. The yard had two maple trees, and the rest was unkempt cornfields. there was a barn and a tiny silo in the back, painted the traditional red-and-white. I felt extremely lucky, but I puzzled about why the family who lived here before sold it for such a ridiculously cheap price, or even wanted to sell it in the first place. It was a mystery that I couldn't solve
1)I'd recommend mixing up your sentence length! Too many short sentences here make the paragraph slow and annoying to read.
2)There's more telling-not-showing here. Sometimes, less is more, so maybe you should leave out the fact that it's summer time, and don't bother repeating the cheapness of the house. It's just grating. Get to the action; don't simulate mystery when there's a real mystery around the corner!

[At this point, I found myself wondering why this man bought a house without exploring it first?]

At supper time I ordered pizza. I waited until the doorbell rang and I went over to answer it. I opened the door to the pizza delivery guy who gave me my pizza. I paid, brought in the pizza, and ate four slices. I put it in the fridge and went upstairs to go to bed.
Too much unnecessary information here too; this isn't a vlog! We don't need to know all this, it's not relevant to the mystery of the goop.

"I don't know what your talking about, George. I don't have any son other than you," said my Mom. I hung up, my legs weak. What on Earth was happening? I went up to my room to think, my head pounding. On the floor, goop was completely covering the crack, in a mound the size of a dinner plate. I cleaned it up yet again, my hands shaking. What is this stuff? I thought. I began to hate it, even though it hadn't done anything yet. I recalled uncomfortably how it had wriggled in my hand the day before. I really, really hope that was my imagination. I thought desperately.

I freaked out the whole day, worried about Frank, and about my Mom for not remembering him.

This really feels off; he's not freaking out enough. His brother has gone missing! That's huge, show the reader how bad it is! I really don't see how he would just go to sleep in this situation.

Okay, the rest of your story is actually decent, and I don't have much to say about it. You're skill clearly lies in writing about the actual disturbing/creepy part of your horror shorts, but you're going to have to develop your skill building up to that too! Or just get to the creep faster :p
In any case, I really hope you post more horrifying events! You have a great ideas, and I love these types of stories so much!

Oh, I also found myself wondering why the main character still remembered Frank? Why weren't his memories of Frank erased? Seems like a plot-hole :/




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Wed Sep 11, 2019 1:16 am
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Justlittleoleme2 wrote a review...



This is a nice rough draft of what could be a pretty cool story, but right now it's just a framework. You make straight forward statements like, the house was cheap, you bought a new house, the original owners were desperate to get ride of it. Yada Yada. Your just giving us the facts when we want you to tell us a story!

When the black goop is devouring your character, that's story telling. I loved the description! It was insanely creepy, and very good writing. So, I know you have it in you. You have what it takes to write a great story, you just need to stretch those muscles and make every moment of your writing as intense as that was.

Seduce your readers, lure them to the end of their seats, and keep them there!

That's all I have for now, keep writing!




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Tue Sep 10, 2019 8:51 pm
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mellifera wrote a review...



Hey Necromancer14! I'll be swinging by for a review today ^^


I've been seeing a few of these lately, but I'm not that hooked into your opening? It doesn't pull me in. Good hooks/opening lines should pose some kind of question, so that readers have to keep, well, reading to find out what happens next. Right now, I don't care about some person moving into a new house. It doesn't compel me to read further. (This isn't meant to be a comment against your character being boring or anything- it's just that I don't know your character, or your story, and right now, there's nothing to bring me into it)


Even if you named this something completely innocuous, the fact that the protagonist is moving into a house in the middle of the country for a really cheap price is enough to tell me something's going to go Wrong. While it is in no way a problem, I might have you evaluate why you chose this setting? Again, it's perfectly fine! It has been done quite a lot, however, so I would just consider it (again, totally up to you whether you keep it or not!).


my phone made a ding sound.


I would just have written "my phone dinged", because adding more is really just padding your writing, and ends up weakening it in my opinion.

Hi, George!


While this is a text and I'm not going to put any hard critique here, grammatically, this would be "Hi George!" but it's up to you to determine how this particular character texts so... just a little heads up :)

read the text.


Since you already put the text's contents into the prose, you don't have to tell us that you've done this.

Now you know exactly how cheap this house was, if a college freshman could afford to buy it with cash.


Ahaha, I love this detail (although this kind of depends on what class he's in. One would assume lower-middle or something based off this, but there's no solid evidence, so?).

(As just a note though: if he's a college freshman, why's he buying a house out in the country? That seems like a hassle to try to get to whether his school is if he's living farther away from it)

the property had nine acres


"the" should be "The" since it follows a period (also nine acres holy dang. even if it's a haunted house, he must have been pretty loaded to have bought a nine acre property with a fully-functioning house)

I sent a reply; It's really nice I typed


This reads like you've added two dialogue tags. ("He said, "It's really nice!" he said) Honestly, I'd get rid of both. If you want something there, maybe "It's really nice, I told Frank" (I mean, you can still write "I texted him" too.)

"Gross" I thought to myself.


Instead of having a whole, telling sentence, you could just write "Gross" in italics (Gross. I went downstairs to the kitchen...). The quotation marks should be used for dialogue, not thoughts, and when you write in italics, this signifies to the reader that you're writing a character's thoughts (unless you're writing in text conversations, which I have done, in which case you can just use the dialogue tags for the texts and plain italics without them for thoughts, but usually it's pretty clear, like here, to distinguish the two).

"Must be my imagination" I muttered


There should be a comma after "imagination"! (Here's a really good article about dialogue punctuation if you'd like!)

the sink began to pour out disgusting gas that smelled strongly like rotten fish. I gagged again and left the bathroom.


Again, "the" should be capitalised, but more importantly, my reaction to having gas come out of a sink smelling that bad would not be gag and then go "oh well" and leave the room.

At supper time I ordered pizza. I waited until the doorbell rang and I went over to answer it. I opened the door to the pizza delivery guy who gave me my pizza. I paid, brought in the pizza, and ate four slices. I put it in the fridge and went upstairs to go to bed.


This seems really unnecessary? Why do we need to know that he ordered a pizza, or that he ate four slices? Why does this enrich your story in any way?

As I entered the room I noticed that there seemed to be more black goop in the strange crack. "Weird," I thought. "I'm sure I had gotten it all. I guess not."


The same point from before still stands on how thoughts work, but this also seems really mechanical? Instead of having him think this (because it also sounds pretty cliche, and while tropes] can be good for a story, this seems very artificial. I know I just used "cliche" and "trope" interchangeably, even though they're not the same - cliche can be a trope but not the other way around - but I bring this up because it's very obvious. It minimises your character's intelligence, and maybe that was what you were going for! But having characters who work so hard at blatantly ignoring issues like this is really old, especially for horror stories. Something weird happened earlier. Gas came out of his sink that had something to do with this black goop. How can he not think that something's wrong at all?), you could write that he frowned. That way, you're showing us that he's unsettled, and that something is wrong, without being exposition-y about in this manner.

I felt uneasy for some reason that I couldn't think of.


I'm pulling this line in part because saying that "I felt" is telling (it should be something like "I was uneasy", or show us how he's feeling uneasy! Is his gut stirring? Is he nauseated? Is he shivering?), but also because, again, how is he this ignorant? How do you see something like this and not feel like something is wrong?

My Mom dropped Frank


This should be "My mom". (There's a discussion about her here that explains it better than I can)

My Mom dropped Frank off to see my new house, and he went around exploring it, moving on to the backyard when he was done.


I definitely feel like you could have added this scene in! It would have given some insight into Frank and George's relationship. You haven't put much of George's personality into the story yet, which I think you would have had a perfect opportunity to do here rather than glazing over it like this.

At supper time I went outside to find Frank.


I don't know what time Frank was dropped off at, but I definitely would have noticed him being gone sooner? I mean, maybe George is really that distracted or lacks attention to detail (albeit, a pretty big detail), but it just seems odd that it took him until supper to realise Frank was missing.

I combed the entire property


The whole nine acres??? You realise how long it would take to search nine acres, and then to not assume that who you're searching for could also be on the move instead of completely stationary?

I began to get worried.


I think this would be better written if it were something more like "My heart sped up and my stomach dropped the longer I couldn't find him."


Also, just a reminder that a lot of your dialogue doesn't have the correct punctuation marks! You may want to go over that in editing :)


I cleaned it up yet again, my hands shaking.


This is really good showing of how George is feeling!! :D

feeling like something was very wrong with this house. It was several hours before I went to sleep, and I didn't sleep very well.


You'll want to watch out for filler words, like very, really, and just. They don't add anything to your prose, in fact, acting as padding instead of serving any function. Instead, they can often be substituted for stronger synonyms of the word you attach "very" to.

I opened the fridge and ate the rest of my left-over pizza cold


So, he escapes from this black goop that keeps multiplying, and then he's like "hm. better eat my pizza!" ???

didn't go to sleep until one o'clock a.m.


Did he go to his bed, or did he sleep somewhere else? You wrote he didn't want to go to bed, but then does he... go to bed?

I screamed involuntarily.


"involuntarily" isn't necessary here.

It spread up to my chest, me screaming the entire time.


I would suggest rewording this? It doesn't read well right now. Perhaps "It spread up my chest, and my voice was hoarse from screaming." ?

I died as the repulsive goop psychically wiped everyone's memory about me.

After the goop finished digesting me, it slowly oozed back inside floor where it had been living and devouring people for the last twenty years.


Since this is written in first person, why do you narrate that he dies and after he dies? He shouldn't be narrating after he's dead. I would either rewrite this in third person so that you can add that last part, or more simply, remove this section and leave it more open-ended, so that the reader knows he dies without you having to write "I died", because George wouldn't know that (I mean, if he became a ghost, he probably wouldn't know he died right away).


I love the idea of black goop devouring people and then erasing them from existence! The idea of being completely removed from all living memory is terrifying. Like, nobody would be able to even look into it, because nobody would be able to remember anyone to know they'd gone missing. I love this as a concept!

Your writing style, while clean, is relatively detached? There was very little emotion except at the end, and the little that was sprinkled in was blatant "I felt like this". It doesn't allow your reader to connect with the character as well, or visualise what they're going through.

There's also very little description, aside from the goop and what it does. What does the house look like? The land around it? What colours are there? Are there birds trilling nearby? Is it summer, winter? This will add details that will really breathe life into your story, while it is a short story and you don't want to go overboard because you have a limited amount of time to tell the story, it's good to add these in to flesh it out.


Anyway, that's all I have for today! Again, super fascinating story :D If you have any questions or comments about anything I said, please let me know!

I hope you have an amazing day, and Happy RevMo!

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"I never expected that I should be a queen so soon."
— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland