Hi guys! Just a warning is that my stories on my A03 are not there (biggest one is my reanimator 4 concept) don’t worry they’ll be posted eventually.
I have started college last fall and been very distracted from writing and I apologize for the very long wait. I plan by the next time you see them on A03 they will be complete in full and ready to go.
Hi, this is my short story for a horror competition and I wanted to share my submission! (1696 words)
TW: GORE
My gloomy bedroom, filled with eaten take out, the empty bags and bits pile from floor to ceiling. My digital alarm clock screams at me at 11PM, I can't sleep all day. I yawn and stretch as my back pops. I blink slowly and adjust to the dim light.
“Alright fluff bag, where are ya?”
Right then my dog, Mutton, jumps out of the pile of burger bags and onto my lap.
“Hey buddy, how are ya?” His tail wags excitedly as he tries to lick my face.
“Morning to you too.” The fur is stiff and covered in stains from food, my crusty, yellow-tinged dog. I get up out of my bed with so much, too much strain I cannot even see my feet under my stomach, but I feel the soft squish of trash and food on the floor. So, I know I made it off the mattress at least. I look down to my side to Mutton staring at me.
“You hungry too buddy?”
“Woof."
The ache in my knees stops me from crouching. He thankfully jumps on the bed.
“Good boy.” I scoop him up.
“My arms are nearly as big as you, boy.” He has a happy look on his face as he licks some dried ketchup off my hairy arm.
I walk into my stained kitchen, dishes stacked and covering the granite counters, Mutton following behind me. He yips while I reach for his canned food.
“In a minute!” I groaned as I finally grasped it and dumped it into his freshly cleaned bowl. He eats it up as quickly as I normally do.
“Breakfast for you and breakfast for me.” I say as I open my white fridge. Nothing; only stains and empty bottles of condiments.
“God damnit, I’m starving.” With a sigh the fridge shuts. I sit next to Mutton on a small clearing of kitchen tile. I stare as he downs his food. I shove some old stale French fries in my mouth. Eating with him.
“I guess that’s what we have in common, we both eat off the floor.” I chuckle to myself as I find a slice of moldy pizza. The fuzzy texture is horrible but the cheese around the fuzzy bits is not too bad. I am still hungry, starving. I taste a handful of his gravy and meat mix.
“Not bad, Mutton.” Supported by the counter I get up and grab another can. Kip’s Chicken and Bacon. I grab a dirty spoon and sit back down. Metal rips as I take off the lid and lick it off then I give him a spoonful. I did steal a handful; it is the least I could do. I like the extra chunkiness of this flavor. Feeling the soft textures of the ground poultry and the crunch of the gravy-soaked bits of bacon. I throw the can out to the distance of piles; I turn to him and pet his crunchy hair. I’m still hungry, my belly is empty, it is bigger than most; but that is not my problem, it being empty is. Mutton jumps up and climbs up the pizza boxes to the counter and looks out the kitchen window, barking. I stand up, knees cracking, as I look out the window.
“Damn it.” Knocked down piles of garbage can be seen. I run outside to my trashcans. “Damn you, Jackalopes!” I shout as they scurry away.
Jackalopes are the biggest pests, they act like vegan raccoons with antlers. Mutton darts out of the door, barking.
“Damn it! Mutton! Sit!” Mutton already has his small jaw on its neck. His head shakes left to right, now with a new red stain on his mouth.
“Mutton!” I ran to him in panic, shit shit shit.
“Drop it!” He guiltily drops it in my hand. I look left then right. I slowly creep back to my house and whistle Mutton to follow.
After an hour of prep and cooking later; I’m having a leg of hare, and Mutton is enjoying an antler. As I swallow the best gamey meat I ever had, my stomach growls for more, maybe to replace the calories with guilt. I ate a “mythological” creature, a native one at that. In the Save Fantasy Act “One must not harm, kill, consume, or own a creature of the mythic.” I remember when that rule passed as a child; I laughed at the TV when it was announced, I thought it was an April’s fool prank. Now it’s fooling me. The punishment for eating a non-native mythical creature is normally a fine. But as an American and a Jackalope is native here; it is a hefty fine and possible up to 12 months in prison. Even with possible punishment in mind, I never felt so fulfilled by that Jackalope. That emptiness still lingers in my gut, yet I actually feel like something is in my gut and not the void where everything else goes.
I stay up all night eating and researching all these mythical animals. The ones that will be the least punished by, the ones that are so grand that if you did take a bite the law would be more impressed than angered. The one that will make me full, make me finally have my fill.
The next day I went to the beachside at 4AM. I walk down with my flashlight taped on to my gray bucket hat. Mutton is walking beside me; he loves the beach. As he chases seagulls, I look for my boat under the gray tarp.
“There she is.” I mumble. I push it to the water. “Mutton! Come here!” He trots to me and jumps on the boat.
“Good boy!” I shove him in his own orange life jacket. I hop on my motorboat and go through the waves until I cannot see land. I see a purple glow down below.
“We’re here, buddy.” Mutton is sunbathing on the boat bench. I roll my eyes lazy ass dog. I go to my tackle box and take out my net and bait. I open my bucket of bait, it’s empty, I must have consumed it earlier. I prick myself in the finger for blood. They love the smell of human blood. I rub it all over the small net. I throw it into the water and now wait, the sun is beating down on my skin, I already know I’m going to look like a lobster when I leave. I hate the feeling of sunscreen; I am already slick enough as is. I dip my brown hair in the salty water, as I rise back up, the cool water drips down the back of my thick neck. That cold water feels amazing down my back and on my clothes. I have not felt water on me in two weeks. I normally don’t have water on me, not by choice. I would have to clean out my bathroom just for room to shower, so I use the outside hose, just hose water gets the job done. I have no need for soap, don’t have any, plus in my opinion soap makes you smell worse. I see the bell connected to the rope ring. I rush over and start cranking the net up. As the smaller net goes on the boat floor I smile. It's a baby sea hydra, just what I was looking for. It is not the hydras that are on land. Those normally don’t spread around the world; they mostly stay in/around Greece. But the aquatic ones are everywhere and perfect, especially the babies. Instead of beastly scaly bodies, they have the body of a squid, so as babies they are the same size as a squid where calamari rings come from. But be careful they still have those dragons’ heads. That is why they are still a feat to eat. They are small enough to consume if done right, I also heard that one is all you need. I grab the baby sea hydra and eat like an oyster, the two heads down the hatch first. I feel it in my stomach; I actually feel sustenance there. I feel it grow… grow? Mutton starts barking at me.
“Bud, what’s–” I fall to my knees and hold my stomach with groans, I feel full, too full, overwhelmingly so. It feels like needles are inside of me… pulling out of me… A small, blue dragon head busts out of my stomach. Wails of agony, everything is ripping apart. More heads bust out. At least 5. I feel my head spinning, my vision is going out, Mutton is barking nonstop. The last I see is my lower torso open and the baby sea hydra, with many heads, slithering out of the boat, its body smoking from the stomach acid. Then Mutton barking at it as I fade to black.
Afterwards: Fluke Domery was found by a fellow Fisherman. The Fisherman thought it was a man taking a nap, as he sailed closer, he saw the bloodiest mess he had ever seen on a small boat. He threw up in the ocean upon seeing it and smelling it. The bloody curly haired dog yips at him. His heart melted. He immediately picked up the small dog and put him on his ship.
“What’s your name…” He glances at the name tag. “Mutton? Well, you sure look like it. Don’t worry, I'll take good care of you.” The Fisherman drives off in his boat towards the shore, with some calls to make. Mutton is laying on the boat bench and staring longingly at the bloody wooden boat. He watches on as a full-size sea hydra, with the babies on its back, lifts his owner off the boat by the leg, more organs and blood fall out of the open torso; then with a lift of its head and a snap of its jaws, the bulge of the body is sliding down one of its throats then the hydra goes back under.
I been busy with college so I had zero time to write; so, here is some pitches/ summaries for ya! (Jeffery Combs character specific)
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Themes of unsafe abortion, gore, and lots of death.
Re-Animator 4 Concept: Re-Animator Vs. The Reagent
After Herbert West went back to Daniel Cain for refuge at his home. Herbert has to get used to not being Daniel’s priority. Especially since Daniel has a wife named Wendy and a daughter named Abigail (Abby). As Abby becomes a teenager she finds out what her dad and his friend who lives in the basement, that she hardly sees, did in the 80’s. She gets trust issues around her father. As Daniel is unknown to everything. Herbert is still trying to perfect his reagent. Yet when Daniel loses what he loves most. Everything crumbles down to creature feature, reagent fueled, madness!
Re-Animator’s Grief
In Peru, Herbert West and Daniel Cain are in the jungle, until they get shot at by the enemy soldiers. As Herbert shoots the last one in sight. Daniel steps on a landmine and blows up. His blood and guts covering Herbert, all he is left with is a head and an arm. When Herbert goes back home to a small home, just big enough with a basement, he is faced with issues of paying medical school bills and rent. So, he has no choice but to get a roommate. Later the new roomie finds Dan’s parts and tries to call the police. Herbert accidentally kills him, thankfully prior he has notebooks filled with Dan’s anatomy notes and medical records, and this now dead roommate has the same leg width/height as Dan’s. Realizing rebuilding his Dan is possible he goes on a murder spree. When new Dan is created, Herbert lies and tells Dan he was in a coma. Dan figures out via the reagent giving him blood clots, and Herbert’s rush job on stitches starts to fail. Dan himself starts to fail, Herbert gets sloppy during his murder…
From Beyond x Hellraiser
As Dr. Edward Pretorius finishes up making the Resonator and gets attacked by the creatures and sent to the beyond. His assistant Crawford Tillinghast is going back from the mental institute with Dr. Kathrine McMichaels and Bubba Brownlee to prove himself innocent (that he did not kill Pretorius). As they go into the attic they see the Cenobites. It is learned that Dr. Pretorius also got a hold of the Box of Configuration and solved it. The hell of the cenobites and the Beyond collided, sending him into the between (a void). The cenobites are angered that they cannot get what they are owed so Tillinghast is forced to help retrieve him as Kathrine and Bubba just try to survive their affected overworld.
The Evil Clergyman Extension
This story takes place directly after the short. Father Jonathan possessed Ms. Brady’s body. As he lives in his castle in his new feminine body. He discovers a new feeling of hunger, tiredness, and human feelings. He assumes it is just him getting used to the body. His craving for souls still lingers though. Yet, with his woman physique he cannot seduce women anymore. So, he has to rely on other men. He feels uncomfortable; so he seduces them just enough before anything frisky happens and then takes their souls. Months later without hardly eating anything good or showering. When he was just a spirit he had no need to. The rat demon, who he has been living with, comments on his round belly. Turns out Jonathan got pregnant and he is the father. He questions all his judgments towards women that got abortions he considers all the endings and knows this baby has to go. Instead of a hanger the rat demon is used and has a demented meal for later. As Jonathan regrets every life decision and reflects the pain. Ms. Brady’s soul possessed his original rotting corpse and came back for revenge.
Chapters: 2/4
Fandom: Re-Animator (Movies - Combs)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Daniel Cain, Herbert West (Re-Animator), Original Characters
Additional Tags: Rating May Change, Re-Animator vs. The Reagent, Blood and Gore
Summary:
This is my very own Re-Animator 4 concept! It will have gore! Tragedy! Death! Creatures!
This is a little script skit I wrote for fun! It was a joke re-write of a scene from a friend’s project!
Context for comedy purposes: The Raven is a killer.
1 INT. STAGE – DAY
Two news reporters, STEVEN and CAMERAN sit in front of the camera. An image of a blurred out body appears behind them. At the bottom of the screen the lower third states: “BODY FOUND ON ROAD SIDE.”
STEVEN
This tragedy struck Wensten this morning where a nearby driver saw the bag.
CAMERAN
With all that blur I know a closed casket will be needed. But what’s not closed is this case.
STEVEN
This town has been on high stakes for months because of these tragedies.
CAMERAN
You know steaks, Steven?
STEVEN
I do, why?
CAMERAN
Well Steven, the town may be on high stakes but the steak prices at Outback are not! Thank you Outback for sponsoring our news station!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/4
Fandom: Re-Animator (Movies - Combs)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Daniel Cain, Herbert West (Re-Animator), Original Characters
Additional Tags: Rating May Change, Re-Animator vs. The Reagent, Blood and Gore
Summary:
This is my very own re-Animator 4 concept! It will have gore! Tragedy! Death! Creatures!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/7
Fandom: Original Work, Eathday Airlines
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Characters: Tina Hoa, Robby Shawits, Tristen Fowick
Additional Tags: Death, Infant Death, Cannibalism, Suicide, lots of corpses, Vomiting, Blood and Gore, Swearing, Intense
Summary:
A young girl, a teen boy, and a grown man get stuck inside of a landfill of corpses. They learn about the landfill and each other as they try to survive and escape before burning day.
Hey! This is my first draft of Chapter 1 of my Re-Animator 4 concept. It takes place after Beyond Re-Animator.
Story under the cut!
Reanimator 4 Concept: “Re-Animator vs. The Reagent.”
1
The red front door opens and two men, forty-ish, walk through the door. Into a living room with a kitchen on the right and a couch with TV on the left. The shorter man in a black knitted sweater, that’s slightly too big, is greeted by a woman. The taller man, who’s wearing an undershirt, glances at both of them.
”Herbert West, this is my wife, Wendy.”
”Hello.” Her voice is soft.
Wendy is a blonde woman, with soft features and silver round glasses on. She holds out her hand, West gives a glare. She awkwardly lowers it and glances at her husband, Daniel Cain.
Daniel raises a hand and calls out, “Abby our guest is here!” Herbert’s eyes widened when he sees a small child with more wavy hair than her. She rushes over and hugs his leg, not looking up.
“What’s your favorite color?! Where you from?! What you like?!” She rambles as she nuzzles his black pants over his leg. Herbert gives a look to Daniel.
“Oh yeah, she loves people not very shy at all–”
Abby slowly looks up at Herbert and sees his face. His face aged, with his cheap plastic glasses that caged his piercing hazel eyes, some mysterious red stains on the collar of the dress shirt peeking from the sweater. Her small brown eyes stared, she felt… unsafe as she looked at him. An alarm went off in her head. Her eyes welled up into tears and she ran away crying. She ran down the carpeted hall and to the right, to her room.
Daniel raises an eyebrow. “That’s so strange. She normally loves meeting new people.” He walks down the hall, his wife and Herbert in tow. He looks at Wendy, “Can you show Mr. West the basement please?” She nods and looks at Herbert to follow her. As the two leave, Dan walks into his daughter’s cluttered room. He bends down and looks at Abby, who is hiding under her bed. His head is so lowered that the side of his head and his short brown hair touch the hardwood floor. “Come on Abby, he don’t bite.” She shakes her head.
“No he’s scary!”
“Come on, he's in the basement, you can come out.”
She shakes her head, “Nuh uh. I see his shoes.” Daniel turns his head, his head still on the floor. He sees Herbert’s black dress pants and leather black shoes. He gets up with a grunt and uses his knees to stand. He looks at him as Herbert looks back expectantly. Daniel turns his head.
“Dear, I'll show Herbert West the basement and I'll be back, okay?”
“Okay…” Abby respondes shyly, almost sadly. He looks back at West, he nods his head towards where the basement is. Daniel nods and leaves Abby’s room. They walk to the basement in an awkward silence. They last met seventeen years ago. Herbert may have only been in Daniel’s life in his early or mid-twenties for about eight months and a week; yet, he was the biggest part that clouded his mind. It is hard to forget the mad scientist that you helped so willingly back then. They open a metal door at the very end of the hall, go down some rickety stairs, then into a concrete walled and floored basement. It’s rather empty but there are small rooms on the side, even a small bathroom.
“I see our original home near the cemetery got destroyed, hm?” West comments.
“Well, not exactly. The cemetery at least wasn’t touched, but this house had a remodel of the century, there are still remnants of our old house. I’m pretty sure they missed something by the small stench in here.”
“Ah, I see they painted over some of the old bricks.” He points to a wall with small bricks fitted with the cement blocks. Daniel hums in acknowledgement.
“Well,” he walks to a small empty dusty room next to the bathroom, “I guess that can be a bedroom….” He mumbles to himself. Herbert looks at the metal tables with tablecloth on them in the room and looks under with a smirk.
“These were my lab tables.” He points at a scratched “HW” underneath.
“Guess they are… they are some sturdy tables.” Daniel notices him glancing at the dusty pool table. Cain sighs and starts pushing it, Herbert joins in. The two start pushing it with grunts, the pool table is surprisingly heavy. They shove it into one of the extra rooms used for storage. They go out and push the metal tables where Herbert wants them.
As the men arrange the basement Wendy Cain is in her and her husband’s room straightening her dirty blond hair, you can see the tight curls closer to the neck. She sits at her vanity as her daughter jumps on the big bed.
“Mom! When I saw him! My brain went BARK BARK BARK!”
Wendy chuckles, “Sweetheart please stop barking.” She says in her soft voice. She unplugged the straighter. Gets off of the velvet seat and goes to her daughter. “What’s bugging you?” She picks Abby up and rests her on her hip. Then sits down back at her vanity as Abby is now on her lap.
“When I see him! I just BARK BARK BARK!”
“Ah like an alarm bell?”
“Yes! He bad, I know it!”
“You’re still barking.”
“What?!”
Wendy giggles, “What’s so scary, huh?”
“Dunno just is.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Why?”
“It’s because I trust your father. He must’ve been a good friend if he’s allowed to live with him after so long.”
“Hmm.”
Wendy looks around her cozy bedroom with dark blue walls and photos of her and Daniel’s wedding photos. She thinks for a moment.
“The reason for the “alarm bells” is called your gut instinct.”
“Oh. Is that right?”
“Well sometimes it is. But it can be wrong, like I thought my uncle Tim was scary. But it turns out he is the sweetest man ever.”
“I like uncle Tim.”
“See? Sometimes your gut is right and sometimes it’s not. Plus you probably won't see our roommate much anyway.” She shrugs. “No worries.”Abby smiles and is much calmer now.
The basement is more neat now. Nicely placed clean, metal tables. Daniel places the last stool needed for the last table, he stands next to Herbert, the two men stand in silence. They stare at each other while slightly panting, the tension going thick.
West sighs, “Why, Dan?” Dan goes still as he hesitates. He knew this question was coming; he knew it when he sent him to prison. He tries to think of anything, he sees his old– not sure what to call it, tap his foot impatiently.
“I…I..”
“I, what, Dan?” He questions sternly.
“I was…,” he gulps, “Terrified.”
He gives a glare. “I don’t believe you, Dan.”
“When you made that bride– it was too much!”
“Oh! Raising the dead was fine, but making you a gift with the dead WAS NOT?!”
“It was only around for five minutes and harmed people, Herbert!”
“Oh barely! She was dumb enough to come back, and got in the way! It didn’t even pay off at the end! Considering you’re with someone else…”
“That does not matter! The bride herself was suffering! She breaks every scientific law on the planet! She should not have been made.”
“You only say that now, but back then–”
“I was dumb! I was in my twenties!”
“Good to see you enjoyed your thirties.”
Cain groans.
“I see your guilt.” He says softer and barley hides his amusement.
Daniel sighs, “Some days I’m surprised I wasn’t in that cell with you.”
The other’s eyes widen at the confession but his gaze hardens. “I can ask the same thing, Dan.” Herbert replies in a soft yet accusatory tone. Daniel goes quiet, avoiding eye contact. “You know I’m stubborn.” He crosses his arms, glaring.
“I…God you’d kill me in my sleep…”
“Dan…you know I’m stubborn.”
Daniel sighs and looks anywhere but at him. “It took a lot of cleaning and stashing to get where I am.”
“If you weren't thinking of just yourself, I would be impressed. Now tell me. How did I get to rot in a cell alone…? I was very alone, Dan.”
“Fine, I hid all the recorders– any evidence of my participation anywhere.”
“What about the finger prints, hm?”
“Bleached.”
The spectacled man looks at him with an offended/impressed look.
“When, weren’t you with her the whole time–”
“When I could, I told her I was ‘thinking it over’ and she believed me.”
“You betrayed me, first for her, then you were too cowardly to join me.”
“Of course I was! I had a whole life ahead!”
“Y’know Dan you're glad you hide yourself so well from the court and I cared! You know all the black mail I could’ve used? I’m surprised Francesca didn’t rat you out. You may have betrayed me for her, but she thought you were at least partially mad.”
Daniel looks at the floor as he respondes quietly, “I just kept reminding her of what you did…”
He pauses, “You are surprisingly cruel and clever. Not used to it.”
Daniel almost rolls his eyes, “I’m about to be more cruel. I’m not helping you with your experiments.”
Herbert gives him wet eyes, “What?”
The other pinches the bridge of his nose, “Don’t look at me like that, I’m surprised you're even in my presence.”
“What do you mean, Dan? You think I’m not clever enough to let go of potential?”
“You know the whole reason why I hid the evidence so I didn’t go to prison while you were dead. I thought you died.”
“You’re mistaken.”
“I learned that long ago. Now I need to know how you even survive the rubble?”
“You definitely have brightened, back in ‘85 you didn’t even question how I survived Hill. Well if you must know…”
Back in 1985 Herbert West had an intestine wrapped around his throat. The intestine belonged to a headless body, that West overdosed on reagent. When Daniel Cain and his fiancé, now deceased, ran away from the Miskatonic Massacre. Herbert West remembers seeing the fog in the morgue full of re-animated zombies. He’s not sure if there was fog or just his vision going blurry from the asphyxiation. He saw a scalpel conveniently near his reach. He stretched, grabbed, and started stabbing. His eyes watery and blurry he stabbed for anywhere that was not himself or the ground. Second he got that gasp of foul air, he was freed.
Daniel raises an eyebrow, “What about the crypt.”
He hums, his face turns into wonder, “There was a perfect air pocket that I could crawl out of, but I remember running into Hill’s head and what he said was… peculiar to say the least.
West can see it now. Him squeezing through his failed experiments, large rocks, and debris. As he army crawls, shifts, feeling the rocks get tighter until he sees Hill’s head. That old bastard getting crushed between two rocks. He bleeds from his mouth, nose, ears, even from the eyes! Herbert does a small chuckle thinking of the head’s soon demise.
“Weeeessstttt.” Hill mumbles with his red stained teeth. Not caring for possible insults he continues to wiggle through. “You know West I’m glad I didn’t make you my assistant…” West whips his head around to look at the old man. He would never work for that plagiarist but still finds it offensive. Hill smirked. “Caught your attention, didn’t it? But what I said is TRUE. If being or having an assistant is so WONDERFUL! Why is Danny up there, and you’re down here?!” The other had no words to speak. The head chuckles, but mid-way through he coughs up blood. “You know there is no point in going up there, West. Either go to the white light and just stop now; or, go see the red and blue and dig this hole deeper.” Herbert West pauses, absorbing every word; it's the most thought Hill ever put in his head. In the middle of thought Hill bites the back of his thigh hard! It causes Herbert to jolt up and hit his head on the rocky ceiling of the air pocket. He army crawls faster, the grim gathering under his nails as he digs his way out through the dirt and the dead. He sees the light of the moon, as he sticks his head out he feels the cool winds of the night.
Daniel has his arms crossed with a brow raised, “And prison?”
The other man smirks, “Let free with a blind eye.”
“Mhm. Now you’re here.”
“Absolutely. I did make an assistant in prison but… he is…well… inferior. He would be more into it than you; yet, it didn’t feel right.”
“Interesting. Anyway, since I’m letting you into my home. I do need to tell you how things are going to run.”
Herbert smiles, “I’m all ears.”
Daniel sighs, “Well as you know is that I am not helping you with the work. And you better keep this away from my family.”
“What if the small one runs in here?”
“Then kick her out! You’re being obtuse on purpose. If her or my wife gets injured because of your experiments. I might kill you before the corpses do!”
West is unfazed by the other’s soft threat. “Well, are you even going to help me? Or just bring me here for answers then make me scavenge on my own?”
He sighs, “I am going to help you. You get to live here.”
“Price?”
“None.”
“None?”
“Not a nickel, as a now experienced doctor. I don’t need it.”
West has a pleased look and holds out his hand, “Done?”
Daniel takes his hand, “Done.”
If you read this... Thank you so much for your time! This is my first ever fanfic and I’m excited for sure! Critiques/comments are welcome! :)
(there's a lot of people asking about this, but the legal age to use social media is 13, except in few countries. so yes, there are people here under 15)
This is from a narrative assignment from a few weeks ago I got a good grade and the teacher loved it :)!
(Not horror! Man I gotta post some horror like my description said I would. But man, class assignments and horror don’t mix lol) Story under the cut!
It is a windy October day. I walk calmly through the orange forest. My body and mind relax at the crunching beneath my feet. I smile when I see an old rusty metal shack, covered in leaves. I go to the rusty door, hidden by a blue damp tarp. I push the door open with some force.
“She’s here!” exclaimed Tammy. She’s a bubbly girl.
I open my arms and give her a hug. She is a very good hugger.
“Tammy! How you’ve been?” I say still smiling.
“I’ve been just fine.” She sits down on the carpet smelling couch.“You haven’t been getting in trouble, have you?” I respond as I sit next to her.
Tammy doesn’t respond and looks at the grimy wall.
“Tammy?” I raise an eyebrow. She looks at the wooden floor. “Tam!”
“I…I…” Tammy mumbles.
“Well?” I say sternly.
She gets up and walks to a closet with a towel for a door. She stands next to the door shamefully. I get up with an annoyed sigh. I look into the closet and see a box. I crouch in my too small jeans. It has Mrs. Stevicks’ necklace on a red crusty pillow.
“Tammy!” I look at her with disappointment. “Why would you do this?”
“I had to; Mrs. Stevicks deserved it!”
I sighed loudly and grabbed the necklace as Tammy reached for it. I turned my back with the gold necklace in hand. She gets a hold of the chain. We pull. We writhe. We smack at each other’s hands. Besides the possible friendship breaking, what did break is that gold chain.
Our faces went from anger to “oh snap!” like that darn necklace.
“What are we going to do?” Tammy asks in a panic.
“Fix it I guess.”
We make a run out of our hide out, into my backyard, and into my pink room. We tweaked it with all the types of glue and tools we could find, worse. It got worse. More chipped. More broken. And now sticky. Tammy pulls on her blonde locks as she paces back and forth.
“What are we going to do?! Maybe I could steal another?! Steal my parent’s savings?!”
“Tammy no! Even more stealing will not work, you kleptomaniac. We have to just tell the truth. We’ll tell her tomorrow.”
Monday came very slowly and every attempt at fixing that necklace made it worse. Tammy’s money stealing idea got her grounded, she deserved it.
I meet Tammy at the courtyard of our small school. We take a deep breath and head for Mrs. Stevicks. Her classroom is owl themed. It reminds me of my first-grade literature teacher’s classroom. With the strand of mess and glue and gold in my hand. I shyly set the necklace on her desk. Mrs. Stevicks with her sweet face, never soured by her freshman students. She bends over and raises an eyebrow.
“What’s this dear?”
We glance at each other confused, “Y…your necklace, Mrs. Stevicks?” Tammy responded softly.
She giggles, “Oh dear! That’s not mine.”
“Yeah, it’s mine!” Said a very authoritative familiar voice.
This was a school assignment in my 11th Hon. Lit Class and I wanted to share. The assignment was based off an image of a bubble being used as a leg of a wooden chair. (Couldn’t find the image) We had to make it first POV of the bubble. I made a 95 on this assignment (I originally forgot a title 💀)
Enjoy! Story under the cut!
I sat on a tree, surrounded by snow. There was a little child who came to me, his eyes lit up when he saw me. He poked me with a gloved hand, his head tilted in confusion. He poked me again. I did not pop. The boy then reached out his arms, covered in warm thick cotton. Picks me up, his smile could blind a man. He held me in his arms and just stared at me.
“I never thought I would ever hold a bubble in my arms, I wonder if its glass?” He looks up at the sky, “I wonder what strange thing I do next…”
I glow, I feel myself making images. The boy looks down and sees himself older, sitting on a throne, with a big, beautiful crown on his head. He gasps and opens his arms in shock. I float in place in front of him. His eyes are wide, until he sees a group of big men all in black coats.
“Hey that is the king’s child!”
“Get him! We can hold him up for ransom!”
One of the men starts to load his bow. The little boy grabs me and runs, they pursuit. The man with the bow fires close to the ground, trying to hit his legs. He trips over a root, then falls on me. He gets up and sees that he is in me. I surround his legs, an arrow hits me, it just bounces off. He smiles and holds me there as he runs.
He makes it home safely and he puts me on a lovely wooden chair. His parents find me enticing. They ask for fortunes. I show them. His father poked at me in anger when I showed him a gravestone. He poked me with a red, bubble wand with the arrow-like end. The son, Whitson, stops him and the bubble wand falls next to me.
Years later, my Whitson grew into a good king, his people are happy. He shares me with his citizens letting people know their fortunes. I was even used in battle as a shield, that’s how the other kingdoms learned out about me. An unpoppable bubble that shows fortunes is a rarity. When hearing this news, I felt like how Whitson did as a child, but now I feel like a second king because of my wooden throne, with a crown engraved on it, right next to Whitson. On the left of Whitson is his beautiful wife, Marie, a woman who teases. People broke into the castle many times to retrieve me. I have been locked away in other worse castles for days. Thankfully I have been retrieved every time. My kidnappings would last longer since Whitson had a child. So, I started to get saved by knights instead of Whitson. I’m happy to be saved but I feel like there is more heart when Whitson comes. As I sat on my safe throne Tommy, the king’s child who got his brown hair from his father and blue eyes from his mother, looked at me. I saw a lightbulb over his head. He grabbed his father’s old bubble wand. Placed it on me then blew into it. I grew another bubble inside me it moved out popping out of my side, it fell on the arm of the chair. I have a son! I feel overjoyed. Tommy runs to tell his parents. They see my son.
“Tommy, how did you do this?” Whitson asked.
“I took a bubble wand and blew into it, and bubble now has a friend!”
Whitson looks at me hard.
“Son do not do that. The bubble has gotten smaller, and we cannot have that, but I do find it interesting. I’m going to test something.”
Whitson pokes my son. He does not pop. He asks for a fortune; my son gives it to him. It is him cutting the leg of my throne. Whitson raises an eyebrow.
“This is amazing son! You made another! But if people learn that you could make multiple of our prized possession, they will come and try it for themselves. Then no bubble for us!”
After the conversation the king paces up and down the royal halls. He makes small sounds when he thinks. He looks out of a window. I cannot see what he is looking at or for, but I know he found what he wanted by his bright smile.
It’s now after dusk. Whitson leaves the castle with me in his arms. He walks through the town, as he walks my son bounces slightly on my head. He reaches a brick, viny wall. He kicks the wall in a rhythm, a door appears. I see a woman that looks like any witch: grey hair, covered in wrinkles, the whole thing. Even the shop looks like a witch house. Bookshelves covered in mystery things: bottles, books, containers full of who knows what, cobwebs. I feel like I’m reading a book.
“The king! Oh, what do you need your highness!?” Even a witchy voice too.
“You see these bubbles in my arms?
“Yes, wait there is more than one?!” She takes a closer look at me and son.
“My son Tommy found out how to make more, yet the bigger one shrinks.”
“Ooh, very intriguing. You know if the wrong people find o-“
“I know, that is why I came to you. I need to ask you how I would protect my most prized possession, and if you can. What is my most prized possession?”
“I am not sure, but I do have an idea on how to get people to protect it.”
“What is that?”
“Maybe make the people not want the bubble or a pain to carry around.”
“How would I do that?”
“We’ll find out, but I must ask where you found this bubble?”
“In a tree when I was a child.”
“Anything interesting about this tree?”
“I remember I saw this red, bubble wand, with an arrow like tip at the end near it on the snow.”
The woman’s eyes widened.
“I think I know exactly what you’re talking about! Do you have it, did you ever get it?”
“I do have it, my father had it, he threw it on the ground, and I grabbed it.”
“Is it with you!?”
The king quickly runs back to the castle and comes back to the secret shop. He bust in the door with a huff.
“I have it now!” He huffs, “Why must I need it?”
Whitson sits down on a chair with me in his lap. The woman grabs it and looks at it.
“It was mine! I tried to do a fortune spell and it flew away!”
Whitson had a frightened look and held me tighter.
The woman chuckles. “Don’t worry you can have it. I now know what I can do to it.”
“What is that miss?”
“You could do a binding spell on it, combine it with something hard to carry.”
“How do I do that ma’am?”
“Simple you take a piece of the thing you want to bind with it into the potion and you use it like glue. Here is the binding spell recipe!” She hands him a yellowish piece of paper that looks ripped from something.
“Oh, thank you so much! How much do I owe you? Name your price!”
“It is free dear.”
“Nonsense! I am the king I can afford your prices!”
“You don’t have to I insist.”
“You want a fortune?”
The old woman gave a lovely, sly smile. “If you want.”
“Of course!”
I do my magic. She sees herself in a shop much nicer than the one now. Her clothes are so rich and smooth. She giggles in pure happiness.
“Oh, thank you your highness!”
“No thank you!”
The next day Whitson is in the kitchen with his wife and child. The kitchen is huge, full of chefs, the family surrounds a pot on the stove. They toss in herbs, spiders, glue, and sap into the giant black pot. I watch as I am on the shelf.
“Honey what will our bubble stick to?” Marie asks.
“Oh dear of course the bubble will be on his throne. That’s why I sawed off a leg of it. I ripped a piece of carpet as well; just in case I choose the floor.”
“We’ll need that bald patched fixed huh?”
“Yes!”
Tommy giggles as he stands on a chair to see the pot from above. They throw the leg of a chair and the piece of carpet in the pot. The potion went from a green to a cream color. Stirring this potion is rigorous, even Whitson is breaking a sweat. When it is done, they put a funnel on a bottle and pour the thick substance in.
“It is done!” Whitson said in an excited tone.
“It looks like we made glue with extra steps.” Marie giggles.
“It is but magic!”
“Father where do we put this?” Tommy questions.
“In the corner of me and your mother’s room.”
“Can it be in my room?”
“I don’t see why not, son.”
The king held me in his arms. His wife has the binding potion, and his son holds my son. We go to a corner of Tommy’s red room. His whole room feels like you’re in a velvet cake. I feel the stick of the potion on my head, if I could, I would shiver. Beneath me the substance gets put on, it feels disgusting. I experienced a new weight on me. It is my own throne with the potion on the three other legs. My son only had the potion on the bottom. I wonder how he thinks. We never talked but I know everything about him. My son is stuck to the carpet next to me. Now they glue the red bubble wand onto the floor next to my son. My son and the bubble wand both blend into the carpet well. The family stands and admires their work.
“You know Tommy I am glad we stuck them here. No one will check a child’s room. They would check mine. Keep my greatest possessions close to me. But because of you it will be even safer!” Whitson comments while rubbing Tommy’s back.
“Thank you, father.”
The stick dries invisible on me, my son, and the bubble wand. It looks like you could easily remove any of us. Thieves have tried, backstabbing castle staff tried, even my family tried. We all stay the same. Every day for the rest of eternity you will see a wooden chair with a crown engraved on it, half a leg missing, I will fix the other half. My son was next to me, along with his bubble wand friend. All in a red corner, forever.
