The Red-Wood Shelf (For 3 Pronged Contest.)

B-MOVIE HORROR CLASSIC

After moving out to California, I stayed at my aunt's place for a few months. The guest room was stuffed floor to ceiling with those American Girl Dolls, the one's that look ultra realistic, and have those human like eyes, and come alive at night to stab you: those dolls.

I can now add gnomes to the list of things I will never allow in my house.

THE HOOK -

Having just watched a documentary on the Shining, the imagery of a lone car traipsing through unfavorable terrain to an unwanted destination seemed appropriately foreboding. The author sets a good tone to set up the story. In my opinion, the introduction could have been a bit sharper, maybe a combination of the first two sentences perhaps? As it is the hook works well, but with some polishing, it could be even better.

THE STORY -

We have a little girl being dragged somewhere she doesn't want to go. It's a simple enough premise that one can relate to; just about anyone can easily recall feelings of being out of control. That's where the real terror comes in; you're coming with us, you're going to visit these people, and you're going to sleep in this room. The author constructs a wonderful frame work for the main character to be completely helpless.

So when strange, paranormal, or surreal things start to occur to our less than prepared protagonist, the audience feels her helplessness, and her fear is justified and palpable. So she has a tennis racket? So she sensed something bad was going to happen from the start? If you're tied to railroad tracks, and can hear a whistle blowing, that doesn't make the train any less terrifying when it comes for you.

All in all, the plot moves forward with a well paced sense of dread.

THE GIST -

This is a story told through a very specific voice, and although we as an audience don't know much about the character, we are none the less able to relate to her. We are also presented with a very detailed, and yet vague sense of location... which is actually perfect. Where is this gnome plagued house? Well it's somewhere that get's snow, and besides that it could be pretty much anywhere, and that's pretty damn scary.

Clearly the author get's scary; it could happen to anyone, anywhere.

On the other hand, it's a silly story about gnomes attacking someone in their sleep, because come on... gnomes right? Dozens of little, grossly proportioned wooden figurines coming to life in the middle of the night under your bed is silly, right?

CRITIQUE -

There are a fair share of spelling and grammar errors, but not enough to take one out of the story. At times, the flow felt a little wooden, but those instances were few and far between. The length was short and sweet and to the point, and read like a Twilight Zone short. After a little polish, this piece should be top notch.

THE END -

After a thorough review, I still hate gnomes. Thanks for that.

Regardless of my phobia towards woodland folk, keep up the good work and ",if you're going to write, write like your soul depends on it."

The small car moved slowly, making tyre(tire) tracks in the snow. Not many people lived around this road. A short middle-aged woman was behind the wheel, her eyes hid behind large sunglasses. A balding man was asleep on the seat next to her, his right hand above her left(hand included sounds better to me) which was on the gear.

Lucy was sitting in the back seat, watching the trail left behind by them. Her woolen hat was askew, displaying a mass of tangled brown hair.

"I don't want to go to that house," Lucy whined, as she tapped her mother's shoulder.
"But honey, I already told you why. Lucinda will be real upset if you didn't come," Mrs. Arkwright replied.
"But her house is so gi-gi-”
"Gigantic?" Her mother supplied.
"Yes, that. And it's spooky. It's haunted, mama, it really is," said Lucy, as she jammed her hat down her head.
"Now, now, Lucy. Don’t go about telling that to your great-aunt." said David Arkwright, stretching himself and stifling a yawn.
He looked back at Lucy, who was sitting cross legged with watery eyes. He sighed.

*
Lucy sat in a giant armchair as the grownups sat down to talk. Old tales and relatives bored her. She didn't feel like wandering around a haunted house. The wooden furniture had lines running along them, as if they were telling her that they know what’s happening. The cupboards, the showcases, the tables, they all seemed to be watching her, sneering at her.

As she surveyed the room, her eyes almost jumped past the large red-wood shelves, but not before she managed to catch a glimpse of grotesque, colourful objects. She winced, trying to get rid of the images in her head. The harder she tried, the more it seemed to fix itself like glue. She knew her great-aunt had strange fascinations for collecting objects. But to display gnomes on a shelf?

To distract herself, she looked out the window, at the plants that would bloom and form an orchestra of colour( no "u") and happiness.
But, there won’t be flowers inside the house, she thought. Lucy had stopped bringing flowers into the house a long while ago. It only angered the dolls.

The dolls, Lucy thought, as a shiver coursed through her limbs.

*
“But mama, I don’t want to.” trilled Lucy as her mother was trying to pacifying her.
“Lucy, that is the room you’re sleeping in. No ‘buts’. Go now.” her mother said, placing a firm hand on Lucy’s shoulder.

Lucy sighed, dragging a blanket as she went past the shelves and through a small doorway. It was the tiniest bedroom. She sat on the bed, still clutching her blanket, and forcing herself to stay awake. One thought circulated in her giant mind pool.
It will be the gnomes this year.

And odd dragging noise woke her up. She sat up immediately, clutching her blanket. It just seemed to get louder. She could make out pointy tips from the bed. She knew if she looked harder, she could see their colours.(no u again)

The lawn gnomes weren’t like China dolls. They were ugly and that just made them seem a lot less evil than the dolls. And she was older now. Although she was scared, Lucy didn’t scream. A strange instinct told her it would be worthless to expend energy on screaming.

Lucy crawled to the edge of the bed. The gnomes had giant rears and some hats drooped at the back. While noticing this, Lucy also realized that they were waiting for their comrades to get off the shelves. They dropped onto the floor, unscathed.

Lucy was biting into her blanket. The army of little creatures seemed to consist of more gnomes than those that were on the shelves. Their feet dragged across the wooden floorboards. Their dead eyes were locked onto Lucy.

She screamed. For her mom. To the Lord.

There was no answer.

The gnomes were now at the foot of the bed. An odd murmur was heard in the room. She threw a blanket down on them. For a tiny second they stopped. And then, they continued moving about. Another group of gnomes, dressed in red and green came in, with their mouths pursed.

The murmur was now shadowed by a patter.

Lucy rubbed her forehead. And picked a tiny, wedged black seed. She looked at it in horror as the gnomes started spitting out more watermelon seeds. Some clanked against the glass, but most of them hit Lucy.
The dolls had never hurt Lucy. She jumped off the bed and grabbed the first thing her fingers touched.

A tennis racquet in hand, she aimed at the gnomes on the ground. They stopped. They didn’t die, nor did they get smashed. The other gnomes just started forming a circle around Lucy. She screamed and leaped into the living room. The gnomes kept coming after her. Fat tears drops falling, she shrieked as some of them started clutching her legs.

All along, she didn’t stop whacking them with the racquet. The seeds were now pelting her face with more accuracy. Shutting her eyes, she waved the racquet madly about her. There was a large cluttering noise.

And then, it was silent. Lucy, exhausted, didn’t try to comprehend what happened. She curled on the floor and slept.

*

Sonya Arkwright was apologizing to her aunt as she replaced the objects.
No one noticed a missing silver penny. It was wedged inside a small crevice in the shelf. Ok but what does the penny mean?
And also how old is she? If shes young enough to not know how to say gigantic then how can she hold up a tennis racket?
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But i can really visualize this story and thats what I always love. Fix those things and keep writing, I love it!!!!
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The small car moved slowly, making tire tracks in the snow.

his right hand above her left which was on the gear.

"But honey, I already told you why. Lucinda will be real upset if you didn't come," Mrs. Arkwright replied."

But, there won’t be flowers inside the house, she thought.

And odd dragging noise woke her up.

They dropped onto the floor, unscathed.

They were stopped.

Overcome with exhaustion, Lucy was asleep.

Heyhey Lava! WD here. ^^ Goodness, this was creepy. I used to be terrified of the dolls in my grandmother's house, so I can (sort of) relate to Lucy here, which only made this more unsettling. You did a good job of conveying Lucy's familiarity with being chased by dolls, without resorting to flashback or anything else. Details such as the flowers angering the dolls and the gnomes looking less evil were well-done. Nice.

As you edit this, I'm wondering if the scenes need to be so separated. This is flash fiction, so you don't have much room to open/close scenes, but I'm wondering if transitions might work better than scene breaks. You do such a good job of conveying Lucy's peril without flashbacks that I wonder if you could just make this a one-act and introduce her while showing off her dread and developing her. I think it might flow better, and I think you could pull it off.

Onto a few other things:

Lucy sat in a giant armchair as the grownups sat down to talk. Old tales and relatives bored her. She didn't feel like wandering around a haunted house. There was boring wooden furniture everywhere. The cupboards, the showcases, the tables.
As she surveyed the room, her eyes almost jumped past the large red-wood shelves, but not before she managed to catch a glimpse of grotesque, colourful objects. She winced, trying to get rid of the images in her head. The harder she tried, the more it seemed to fix itself like glue.

“But mama, I don’t want to.” trilled Lucy as her mother was trying to pacifying her.
“Lucy, be a good child and go to the room. You have to understand Lucinda’s needs.,” her mother said, placing a firm hand on Lucy’s shoulder.

Lucy sighed, dragging a blanket as she went past the shelves and through a small doorway. It was the tiniest bedroom. She sat on the bed, still clutching her blanket, and forcing herself to stay awake. One thought circulated in her giant mind pool.
It will be the gnomes this year.

And then, it was silent. Overcome with exhaustion, Lucy was asleep.

Sonya Arkwright was apologizing to her aunt as she replaced the objects.
No one noticed a missing silver penny. It was wedged inside a small crevice in the shelf.