Welcome to the fifth annual 31 Days of Horror writing challenge!
For those of you who have not done this challenge before it's simple. This is a horror writing challenge that takes place during the month of October. For each day you'll take the corresponding prompt and write a horror short story to go with it. You can then take your wonderful creations and post them with the tag #31DOH2024 so others can see what you wrote for the day!
There are three whole years of short stories you can go check out under the tags #31DOH2023, #31DOH2022, and #31DOH2021
If you have any questions check out the FAQ or feel free to reach out via an ask.
[Fibercrafting] Whatever Happened to Spun With Love? {heavy}
(31 days of horror day 9: Spin)
For the past five years, Caitlin "Cat" Doherty found her foothold on sites like Instagram and Ravelry selling commissions for her eye catching, hand spun yarn made with ethically sourced dyes and alpaca wool. She had a small but moderate presence on the convention circuit, selling handmade goods that showed off her yarn. Eventually she started making limited runs, available at convention booths and through higher tiers of her Patreon. Shortly after this she quit her full time job in data entry to pursue fiber works full time.
In mid-2022, at the urging of some other people in the hand dyed yarn business, and people who had bought from her before, she opened her own Etsy. The catalog was massive, with at least twenty listings. This included her most popular limited runs that always sold out within moments. This was when the cracks first began to show, even among her most devoted followers: this was a huge amount of work for one person to be undertaking, even if the listings promised continued limited runs and wait lists.
In an Instragram announcement, crossposted to her Twitter, Cat said:
I appreciate the concern from all y'all :3c but I calculated the amount of work I think I'll be able to handle running a small business. If things actually spiral out of my control, I will step back and reevaluate.
Despite her words, a healthy amount of skepticism remained. Her fans worried about her health, and naysayers thought she'd fold within a few months.
this is a lot for someone to handle! take care of yourself cat
she's going to hightail it the first time she gets orders and the backlog goes crazy. shes doomed
wouldn't it have been smarter to start with like five??? get that bag ig
The orders remained steady for the first five months of operation. Cat would periodically close listings and get items out to customers with slow wait times that remained consistent, typically a few weeks before arrival. The convention appearances came to an end, much to the dismay of people who enjoyed seeing her cottagecore booth in person, but Cat assured people that once she found a groove with this business she would start going to conventions again.
No one was really surprised when things started to slow down. Reports brought up longer wait times, and a major backlog that she couldn't keep up with.
i was put on a waitlist like two months ago and people who ordered straight from the listing got shit before me
girl just limit the waitlist no one will judge you!!!
Cat Doherty tweeted an apology:
I'm so sorry for all the issues. A major life event happened, but I'll be getting back on top of things! I will be halting any new listings to work on my backlog. I'm so sorry for the frustration and inconvenience. In the meantime, why don't you check out Jessica's shop, Spindle and Thimble?
Jessica White was a fellow dyer who also did work dying fabrics. Her store was not as prominent as Cat's, but she had an unmatched business savvy that gave her a solid niche despite middling Etsy reviews. While most of their friendship remained behind the scenes, with Jessica being someone who preferred to keep her life offline, it seemed that Jessica wanted the novice entrepreneur to succeed. Many took the shout out to be Cat returning the favor.
True to her word, Cat closed her Etsy for the time being and started to send out yarn to the people still waiting on orders. People responded with annoyance at how long it took, but surprised delight that the quality was excellent as always.
Three months after the announcement, the shipments stopped. A thread by Lisa Fitz appeared on ravelry:
Has anyone gotten an order from Spun With Love recently?
I should've been in her next batch of orders but its been weeks. I haven't gotten a shipment and no text communication from Doherty. I paid upfront for this!
This spun out in predictable directions.
Christ I hope she's okay ):
lmao who wants to bet money that we've got another "fake her death because she couldn't handle the pressure?" going on
The second comment referencing multiple situations where fiber craft artists have faked their deaths due to being overwhelmed by their sales numbers, most notably Mystic Creations Yarn (talked about in this thread). This situation exploded, with some people doubling down on the idea that she's vanished off the face of the earth rather than deal with potentially irate customers, while others expressed genuine concern. Everyone agreed that if there was an issue, they hoped she would reach out to them and explain.
A few days later, when the argument was a post every few hours instead of a constant stream, Jessica stepped in.
Hey guys, Jessica here. Cat has asked me to let you know that she's had a major health scare and she's very sorry for the upset she's caused to all of you. In the mean time, I will be offering free products of similar color to those who haven't had their orders fulfilled. Just email me a copy of your receipt. If not, we will work on getting refunds out to you.
Most were relieved at the update on Cat's well being, while others preened at being correct that she'd fold under the pressure. More arguments ensued between those people, and those scolding them for being so callous about her health. The argument got pretty heated, only stopping when a mod stepped in to tell everyone to play nice. Creative burnout is a known thing in the crafting community and Cat shouldn't be punished for it, though she should have stepped forward sooner to let everyone know what was happening.
The thread fizzled out after that. People moved on with their lives, chalking this up to another piece of craft drama and more than happy to leave it at that.
Months passed, and someone returned to that thread:
Sorry to necro, but did anyone else see the news report?
In the post was a link to a news report from the town where Cat was living. She had been murdered, and her body only recently found.
To say the thread exploded after that would be an understatement. There were people apologizing for being so cruel about her vanishing, people were trying to reach out to her family to see if there was any way they could help. Digital vigils were held for the person taken too soon. And as it often does on the internet, a question arose from the posters: who had done it? Why?
hey can anyone get into contact with jessica???
i don't think its appropriate. they were friends, jessica is probably grieving like the rest of us
dude leave her alone
idk yall her post is pretty suspicious
what the fuck is wrong with you?
But the seed of suspicion was laid in the minds of some forum users. It spread into the wider community, though everyone's grief disguised any suspicions placed on Jessica. Those who found her behavior odd were often shunned and blocked for it, until they stopped bothering outside of their conspiracy corners. These people would soon be vindicated when news broke that Jessica White had been arrested in relation to the death of 34-year-old Caitlin Doherty.
The investigation at this point is still on going and very little is known about it, but initial reports are saying that someone broke into Cat's rented studio and beat her to death with one a piece of her spinning wheel. Few other details have been released to the public.
31 Days of Horror - Day 7 - Martin (1977) directed by George A. Romero. Oof. I remember watching Martin for the first time the summer I turned 18. I fell in love. I have seen an obscene number of vampire movies and this one is different to any other. John Amplas is just phenomenal as the titular character, the film’s memory/fantasy sequences are so haunting and beautiful, and the story is just so…tragic. Also, on a shallow note, Martin was just so damn pretty.
I tried to go for something a bit lighter today. But I didn't have time to go over it too much.
Today's prompt: Breach
Jimmy sat on the time worn dock, and dipped his feet in the icy sea water.
He did this at least once a week. He'd come down with a book or a sketch pad and sit, legs swaying as the tide directed them. Even in the summer months when the sun was too angry and bright to do much of anything, and even on days where it would snow. He liked it there, and he liked that he was generally alone for most of the time. It gave him peace and it gave him time for introspection.
Today the water was calm, but still frigid. He could tell a storm would be coming soon, but more than likely he'd miss it when it did. The sea looked like dirty glass with how the sediment kicked up just beneath the surface, and the extra minerals made his skin sting a little bit more. But at least the winds were light for the moment, so even if his feet craved a warm pair of socks and a fire, the rest of him was totally fine.
Besides, this was the only way he had to let it know he was here today. He tried a fishing line once, but it didn't work, and neither did the day where he tried balancing a log just under the surface. Jimmy liked to think his friend was just picky, and not that it needed something like the smell. He could only imagine what that would be like.
Minutes passed, and soon those minutes evolved into a full hour. He was about halfway through chapter thirteen when he saw a trail of bubbles skimming the surface of the water followed by a large wake.
"Took you long enough!" he said, watching the moving object get closer.
He was greeted by a lone tentacle breaching the water, wrapping around his ankle a second later.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. I brought 2 today, though. Dad pulled up a bunch of them with today's haul, and I snatched these away before he could see." Jimmy reached behind him and pulled out a wad of newspaper. He gingerly unwrapped it, and held out two medium sized fish. "See?"
He leaned forward and threw them to where he thought the rest of his friend was. Honestly, it was always hard to tell. He had never fully seen it, but had seen many parts of it over time, so a guess was about as good as it got. Jimmy didn't mind, though. His friend was always good to him, and he never had any fear that it could do him harm, so he sometimes took turns in his head what he thought it looked like. The sucker stuck to him currently said octopus, so that's what he went with today.
There was a small swell in the water and a burst of bubbles where the fish landed, and almost faster than he could perceive it, the fish were sucked down and disappeared.
Jimmy smiled. It was strangely comforting knowing his friend in the water appreciated his minor attempts at theft. Though, to be fair, his dad would have thrown them back in anyway. But it didn't need to know that. He certainly would tell.
"So, did you do anything fun lately?" he asked. He fully well knew he wouldn't get any real response. But he wanted to ask anyway.
A big bubble came to the surface. The sound it made almost seemed like it said "no", though, he knew he was probably him putting words in its mouth.
"Yeah, me neither." he paused. "But I started this book yesterday, though. A man gets stranded out on the ocean, and a group of mermaids find him. I'm at the part where they're talking about taking him to the forbidden island but...something tells me that's not really gonna work out for him. I get the feeling the man is gonna try and trick one of the mermaids with how he's talking."
He shook his head, almost as if he could scold the character. "I'd never do that, though. Especially not with someone who was kind."
A second tentacle snaked out of the water and wrapped itself around his ankle in response, almost overlapping the first.
"Yeah, I guess. Kinda like us?" he thought for a second, "But I don't think you'd be in any trouble if I didn't bring fish with me. I'm gonna guess you can pretty much do whatever you want down there. You certainly seem like you could, anyway."
Another big bubble. It somehow rose slower, and left a hiss of ocean spray when it surfaced. In Jimmy's mind, he heard "yes".
"Yeah, see? You're a big guy! Or...girl. I don't actually know. But...point is, I bet the sharks down there turn tail when you're around."
A swish in the water, and then nothing. Jimmy didn't really know how to read the swishes, truth be told. Sometimes they seemed like a maybe, sometimes they seemed like it was a dismissive gesture. Today, it seemed like it was a combination of the two. In a weird way, he could almost imagine that it was meant as modesty.
"You say that, but..." he trailed, smiling.
Another swish, followed by a light splash. This one, he knew. This was its way of getting his attention in some way. Very effective most of the time, because even for a light splash, the impact from it still sent drops of water all over his shirt. And it was because of this that he always wore two shirts, regardless of the weather.
He leaned in, so his face was almost level with his knees, eyes on the water. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost swear he could make out some sort of shape. Whether or not that was an appendage or simply an eye was another question though.
It raised a third tentacle out of the water, knotted and balled up like a fist. It slowly stretched over before attempting to burrow its way to Jimmy's lap, cold flesh getting stuck on the texture of his pants. He sat up in response and allowed it to rest for a moment before it unfurled.
There on his lap sat a handful of gold coins. They were bright, and glittery, and had markings on them that he had never seen before.
"What's this?" he asked, mostly surprised but also a little curious, "Are these...for me?"
Another slow bubble. Another hiss. The third tentacle slowly retreated to the water, but it otherwise made no move or sound. He understood, though.
"Really? I mean....wow! Thank you!" he paused, letting the grin take over his face. "Are...are they real? I mean...even if they aren't, they're still pretty--"
A swish. A more, 'this-that' gesture with how it flopped on the water. It wasn't a bubble of any kind, so he took that to mean "maybe" or "I don't know." And really, he thought, that made sense. Sea creatures probably don't know what precious metals are, let alone their value. But this one probably picked up some time ago that humans liked them. Or maybe it saw humans with them at some point. It felt like a sweet gesture all around, and it warmed his heart just a bit.
"Thank you." he said again, a bit more sincerely.
The two tentacles holding his ankle in the water grew slack and gently unwound themselves before sliding back to the rest of it, a small pink circle from one of the suckers being the only thing it left.
"Ah, time to go, huh?" he said, finally drawing his feet back up to the dock once he was freed. It wasn't until now that he noticed how numb his toes had gotten. He curled and flexed them just to make sure they still worked. "I'll be here...Thursday, maybe? Dad's heading out on Wednesday, and as long as I'm not held up, I should be here. You'll know either way. But if I'm a day or so late, don't be mad, ok?"
A bubble, and a hiss. He nodded, as if they had both come to an agreement.
A great swirl of water followed soon after, and a wake as large as a boat came once the movement settled. Jimmy watched as the trail of bubbles lead out on to the ocean again before disappearing out into the horizon entirely.
She sobs, or maybe she screams, but the pews bring solace. The grief feels all consuming but the congregation prays, asks for forgiveness, places a comforting hand on her shoulder. It is them who she finds comfort in. It is them who guides her through it all. It is them who have guided her choices. But still she cries.
And screams.
And sobs.
And begs God to hear her.
Father tells her it is God's will. It is God's way. He tells her to find comfort in knowing that all will be well and that all is right. She holds his hand when he sits next to her and he does not mind the blood. He cradles her cheek and tells her to be strong and that all will be clear once the tears from her eyes finally dry. Once her guilt gives way to understanding.
It takes her three days to sleep. It takes three days of prayer to find some sort of calm. Or maybe just to run out of tears to cry. When she wakes she finds she still cannot bring herself to cry again. So instead she stands, walks to the basin of holy water, and washes her hands. She watches the water turn from clear to pink as the sins, no, the holy choices wash away.
The early morning light shines through the stained glass, splashes her face in painted light, reminds her that all will be new. The calm, the apathy, the acceptance that she woke with settles more firmly over her. The solace she had been begging for finds her in God's sunlight and she finally understands.
He did need to die and it had to be by her hand. As it was God's will.
Looming over us its gears wirred, watching our movement, scanning our faces, a horrid mockery of a smileing face plastered on the android. Forceing us to appear happy for it would 'fix' us if we werent. On paper a glorious plan, an android companion to keep us from being alone and depressed. it started small, helping us cope, helping with tasks; then it started to get abit too smart, it started to drug us, dress us, force us to wear smiles and god forbid you didnt have one. Any slight hint you might be sad, anxious, distraught or angry itll grab you, force pills down your throat or better yet just stab you with needles and dump drugs into you that way. I made the mistake of showing too much emotion when i saw it grab a 'problem person'. i only heard a scream cut off. It shocked me and they saw my concerned face. they swarmed me. i did my best to grin for them but now theyre scanning me, scanning us, did i just put us in danger? Just shut up and grin, keep smileing, dont look upset, dont look distraught.... if there is a god.. help me..
They lost the queen amidst the briar thorns and stinging nettles. The prince and his men stalked the edges, searching for the killer of the late great king.
Demons whispered in the queen’s ear for a while now. Since she lost her child to sudden illness last spring, she stalked the castle halls dressed in rich black mourning. She never raised her head to acknowledge anyone in her wake. The prince feared for his stepmother, and he urged his father to confine her for her own safety.
The king refused and urged for patience. She poisoned him for his kindness. All it took was a few drops of nightshade in his favorite chalice was enough to induce a painful end.
Black ravens circled the gray skies overhead hungry for carrion. While the guard advanced in grave haste hacking at thorns, the prince followed in the rear. His head was bent low in solemn lament for the trials ahead.
But if one were to look closer, one could see the hint of a smile curling his lip. Soon, the last obstacle to his birthright would be no more.
Author Notes: It's late, but still did a second one! In my head for some reason this is a western, I don't know why. 💀 🧡 Happy Haunting 🧡 💀 Written for @31-daysofhorror Day 2: Bid
*Update! This story now has a part two, Back to the Black Market, you can find it on my horror corner, but it's not super important that you have read it to get it.
Black Market Bidding
“Do I have 100,000?”
The paddles raised and the auctioneer's words went faster. The price climbed higher, and with each bid the staff could hear a thrumming quietly growing.
“150?”
The staff hadn't seen so many people fill their auction house in years, the commotion more than their small halls were made for. The mystery and bloody history of the creaking box had brought them all here. Bidders and spectators alike filled the main hall and poured out into the building, their murmurs drowning out a soft dull sound, like a nail scrapping against a wall, that drew the assistant's eyes to the old item.
The price only continued to climb higher with no sign of stopping.
The estate had been filled with all manner of things, from mirrors to hairbrushes, paintings and sculptures, to fine rugs and small treasures. But none of these people had come for that, they were here for the box. It was the only item they kept their distance from, only agreeing to touch it with the thickest of gloves. When they had been forced to move it, the tall and heavy box had been held out away from them even after they had loaded it onto a dolly. They may never have thought much of the dark red wood carved box, if it hadn't been for the sounds. The clawing scraping sounds that haunted their nearly retired night guard into quitting, that they had heard echoing through the warehouse.
That they had all heard that morning, and could hear now as scrapping turned into knocks under the roar of the crowd.
“Do I hear 300?”
The auctioneer's eyes glanced at it, swallowing as her voice carried, trying to drown out the knocking that undercut the shouts and heated conversations within the hall.
It was beautiful, the dark cherry hued wooden box that sat in the center of the display. Its edges were polished, swirling patterns free of dust, and the rubies that filled the four ever watchful gargoyles’ eyes were bright and clear. It was ornate, carved with great care, centuries old, and sealed from the inside.
It was enthralling, tempting, and... not made from red wood.
“375?”
The knocking sound had grown louder as the paddles kept raising. Heat built within the hall, and the clatter of gossip from those who had been forced to lower their paddles grew with it. Everyone had heard a story about the box that had been found in the old woman's attic, beside the bodies buried in her walls.
The auctioneer dabbed her sweated brow with a cloth, pushing her bangs away from her brow. Her words went faster, wanting their business with the whispering box to be over, and upped the price.
There didn't seem to be an end, a bidding war breaking out from the only two remaining. The hearts of the staff seemed to beat in time with the steady knocking from within the sealed box. They all shifted further away on the small stage, all wondering how the near frenzied crowd couldn't hear the steady thumping and run. Instead, the crowd only got louder, some even sat forward as if trying to make out the sound under the roar of noise, people filing in from the doorways.
“500,000!” A man said near the front row, his brown eyes focused on the drumming display, mere feet from the tortuous box.
The crowd quieted, focusing on the man. The sea of people, all moving and shifting to try to get a glimpse of the mysterious bidder.
“Do I hear 525?” The auctioneer rushed out, looking at the woman who had been competing with him, hoping she would forfeit.
At the shake of her head, the staff all exhaled and the sound suddenly stopped.
“Sold for 500,000,” the auctioneer declared, relief filling her as her gavel sounded.
The smile the winner produced had a shudder running down the auctioneer's spine as she watched him stand to collect his purchase ticket. The assistant’s eyes were wide as he shakily held out the ticket as the man walked quickly towards him and the box.
“Congratulations, sir.” The scripted words felt inappropriate and heavy on his tongue.
The man only continued to smile as his fingers gripped the ticket, taking it from the pale faced employee as the hall finally began to quiet. His eyes shifted from the assistant to the box.
“Thank you, very much,” he said, raising his left hand to stroke down the side of his new purchase, eyes crinkling with his smile and the growling purr that whispered through sealed wood.
