#writetober 2024

[thewritetoberproject]

The Archives — Writetober 2024, Horror Haven: The Shadow of Steffi

Stephanie was a vampire, but not your typical blood-sucking fiend. She was more afraid of the dark than any human child. Her older brother, Ben, found this hilarious, especially when they were supposed to be out "hunting" for victims.

“Steffi, come on!” Ben whispered in his most ghoulish voice. “The moon is full, and there’s a whole neighborhood of sleeping people just waiting to be...you know.”

Stephanie shuddered and hid behind a tree. “I don't want to go,” she'd mumble. “What if there’s a monster?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Steffi, you’re the monster.”

One night, while they were out on a particularly dark and moonless hunt, her fear reached a new height. She began to imagine all sorts of terrifying creatures lurking in the shadows. Goblins, werewolves, even a giant, hairy spider!

“I can’t do it,” she wailed, bursting into tears.

Ben sighed and took her hand. “It’s okay, Steffi. I’ll be right here with you.”

As they walked back home, the moon finally peeked out from behind a cloud. Stephanie looked up at it and felt a little braver. Maybe she wasn’t so afraid of the dark after all. As long as she had her brother by her side.

This short story was written by @zoehcomedy and was originally published on October 16, 2024, as a part of our 2024 collection Writetober 2024: Horror Haven. You can read this story and more like it at thewritetoberproject.com.

[thewritetoberproject]

The Archives — Writetober 2024, Horror Haven: Dead Scared

TG was a zombie with a problem. He was deathly afraid of ghosts. It was quite ironic, considering he was technically undead himself, but there was something about the.. translucent nature of them that sent shivers down his spine.

After getting fired from his job as a grave keeper for an incident involving a particularly tasty-looking corpse, TG found himself in a bit of a pickle. He'd been living with a generous couple named Clarice and Kur, but their hospitality had started to wear thin, especially after he'd accidentally eaten their pet goldfish.

Desperate for a new job, TG stumbled upon an ad for a ghost hunter. Usually he wouldn’t take jobs like this, but hey. He was undead and desperate. It seemed like a perfect fit, at least until he could get back on his feet.

The first day on the job, TG was assigned to investigate a supposedly haunted mansion. As he stepped through the creaking front door, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. The slimy hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Suddenly, a chilling voice echoed through the hallway. "Who's there?" TG jumped. He turned to face the source of the sound, but there was nothing there. Just a cold, empty hallway.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice trembling slightly. "Is anyone there?"

A ghostly apparition materialized before him. It was a translucent woman, her eyes filled with sadness. "Please, leave," she whispered. "This place is cursed."

TG felt a surge of fear. He had to get out of there. He turned and ran, his undead legs pumping as fast as they could. As he burst out of the mansion, he looked back one last time. The ghostly woman was still standing in the doorway, watching him with a mournful expression.

From that day forward, TG vowed to never again take a job as a ghost hunter. Well, mostly because he got fired for not completing the job. Either way, he'd learned his lesson: even for a zombie, some things were just too scary.

This short story was written by @zoehcomedy and was originally published on October 21, 2024, as a part of our 2024 collection Writetober 2024: Horror Haven. You can read this story and more like it at thewritetoberproject.com.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

Writetober/Jotober

Hiya! I’ll be drabbling a short bit of WTNV fanfic based on the Inktober prompts but turning them into writetober/jotober things instead! Block #writetober and #jotober if you don’t wanna see them!

Personal rules:

No less than 500 words featuring the prompt word or eluding to it. No more than 1000 words. Just write what comes to me and don’t go back and edit. Day 16: Grungy Character focus: The Faceless Old Woman

There is something wrong with you.

Yes, you. I'm talking to you right now. I'm the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In All Of Your Homes. Right now I'm in your home, talking to you in particular, but also I'm in every other home dong many other things. It's best not to try and understand it. It's impossible for you to understand even a hair's breadth of how I exist. You would go insane trying yet for me it's as easy as flexing a finger. Well, I guess that's hard for some people. Difficulty is relative.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh right. There is something wrong with you.

I know because the state of your home has become immeasurably dire in the past few months. The bin has overflowed and yet you add more discarded bits of food to it. Then you stopped eating much altogether. The dishes remain undone. The laundry unwashed. There is a fine peppering of flies around the windowsills which for once, I did not put there.

Dust lays on almost every surface. I wrote 'clean me' on the coffee table, a common jest, but you did not clean it. Then I started to write more little notes to you in hopes they would catch your attention and cause you to clean it. The exact time and date of your death, all those embarassing things you did when you were a teenager, memories of that one love you let slip between your fingers. That kind of thing. Still nothing.

There is a grimey build up upon your windows making them increasingly hard to see through. Mould and mildew are taking over a bathroom which you have not used in a long time.

Moths are eating your clothes. Fun fact it's not actually the adult moth which eats fabric but the many younglings they leave squirming all over your precious belongings. Not that you seem to care any more.

Somehow the carpet seems to be collecting moss. The wallpaper seems to be sweating. The whole place, whilst not necessarily cluttered or full of dirt, gives an air of uncleanliness likely to unsettle most who would enter it. Except noone does enter it. At first people tried to check up on you and then they simply gave up.

The aura of filth in your house repulses them as much as it does me. No. Maybe it's something more than that.

There is something wrong with you. One day you retreated to your bed and you never got up again. I know you are still alive. I know this because your cocoon pulses with life. It is made of scraps of filthy fabric torn from your clothes and bed sheets. There is a fine layer of grime over the entire thing.

And you pulse. Softly. In an out. This is not something you should have been able to do. I have no idea what you are transforming into. It takes all my strength to not tear open the cocoon and observe what has already become of you.

There is something wrong with you.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

Writetober/jotober

Hiya! I’ll be drabbling a short bit of WTNV fanfic based on the Inktober prompts but turning them into writetober/jotober things instead! Block #writetober and #jotober if you don’t wanna see them!

Personal rules:

No less than 500 words featuring the prompt word or eluding to it. No more than 1000 words. Just write what comes to me and don’t go back and edit. Day 15: Guidebook Character focus: Earl Harlan

"Hey, Mr Harlan? Does this look right to you?" The boy looking at him was all of 12 years old. He hadn't earned many badges yet, but Trevor's tenacity made up for his lack of ability. He wouldn't stop trying till he improved or died. Either was possible when you were a Scout.

Earl looked at the bright blue mushroom growing out of the sand. There was a small crowd of boys around it, all gazing at it's soft bioluminescence and tender waving fronds. Trevor was still holding his guidebook open. He was flipping back and forth, trying to find this mushroom somewhere. They wouldn't know if it was edible if they couldn't identify it. There was a surprising amount of life in the desert but Earl hadn't seen anything like this before.

Well he was only 19 after all and the desert was vast. Then again he'd been 19 for a long time and been out in the desert with the Scouts almost more often than he'd been home. Going home was weird now. His family had continued to age. His younger siblings now had jobs, homes and a couple of them had partners. His older siblings looked their parents age. His parents looked ancient. He had a large family and all of them were moving on without him.

Sometimes his father would say; "Boy, when are you going to turn 20?"

For a while his mother had prepped a 20th birthday celebration for him in hopes that this year would be the year. After a while her hope had died. That hurt even more.

Out here though he didn't have to worry about any of that. Nobody was bothering him about when he would turn 20, what job he wanted to do (there were so many choices…) and whether he was thinking of dating or not.

No. They wanted to know if this mushroom was safe to eat. It was him, the Scouts and a guidebook. Earl took the book into his own hands. He really didn't want to decide to eat or not eat it. If he made the wrong decision there would be a consequence either way. He flipped through at a much brisker pace, making vague sounds of thinking and puzzlement. He didn't want to seem like he knew nothing but it was bad to act like you didn't have things to learn.

He wasn't an adult and these kids liked him as a Scout Master because of that. So as a kid it was ok for him to not know some things but as an older kid he ought to know something. Earl felt anxiety snatch at his innards.

Finally he came to a scribbled note at the back of the book made by the original writer of the guidebook. He announced to the scouts happily that this mushroom could be eaten with only mild side effects (your stomach would glow). They collected as many of them as possible and Earl cooked them up over an open fire. He enjoyed cooking and was fairly good at it. Simple ingredients into tasty treats. Maybe he'd do that for a job if he ever turned 20.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

Writetober/Jotober

Hiya! I’ll be drabbling a short bit of WTNV fanfic based on the Inktober prompts but turning them into writetober/jotober things instead! Block #writetober and #jotober if you don’t wanna see them!

Personal rules:

No less than 500 words featuring the prompt word or eluding to it. No more than 1000 words. Just write what comes to me and don’t go back and edit. Day 14: Roam Character focus: Lauren Mallard

Just a short while ago Lauren Mallard had had everything. She had risen the ranks of StrexCorp at an exponential rate. Of course she had. She'd given her entire life to StrexCorp. She'd taken on the viciously thankless job of handling Kevin - he'd resisted them till the very last moment and that made him dangerous even without his seemingly high ranking within a religion that held power and sway over Desert Bluffs like no other.

She put up with his passive-aggression and only enjoyed retraining him a little - just a little. Still she'd had her sights set higher. Now she could barely stand to lift her head. There suns here were numbing. Suns. Plural.

The Old Oak Door had opened in front of her and Lauren had jumped through. The armed child militia had not followed. Children. Urgh.

Lauren looked around. She had no idea where she was. If not for the two suns she would never have guessed that she wasn't in the same desert any more. Somewhere in the distance there was a mountain and on top of that mountain there was a light. Something told her to keep away from it. Lauren turned and started to hobble forward again.

She was nearing exhaustion. She didn't know where she was going. She only knew that she must keep moving. Stopping for too long would surely kill her. Bake her in the sun.

Night Vale…what a waste of a town. They could have made so much money. Now she would have killed just for a chance to be back in Desert Bluffs. Those people had been much easier to control and make money off of. Well except for Kevin. What a pain of a man. She hoped he was roaming around here too, just as lost and helpless as she was.

Helpless? No. She couldn't be helpless. She couldn't afford to be helpless. Lauren arched her back and threw her face into the glare of the sun, eyes closed, mouth stretched in a grim defiant smile. She was not helpless. Look how confident she was. Look how she could Smile.

Even with her eyes closed they began to stream the moisture running in rivulets down her cheeks and making her eyeballs throb. Still she beamed and when she turned away she did so slowly. Lights danced in her eyes. Lauren took another step, shook, continued to move. She bit into her lower lip until blood gushed down her chin. The metallic taste and warmth kept her from completely spiralling.

Against all the strong impulses she was experiencing which told her to avoid this place, Lauren turned towards the moutain and started to head directly for it. It had been weeks (she thought) and she was still circling the mountain. It was time to discover what was making that light. It was time to take control again.

Whatever was up there would be hers. She would find a way out and she would restart Strex herself if she had to.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

Writetober/Jotober

Hiya! I’ll be drabbling a short bit of WTNV fanfic based on the Inktober prompts but turning them into writetober/jotober things instead! Block #writetober and #jotober if you don’t wanna see them!

Personal rules:

No less than 500 words featuring the prompt word or eluding to it. No more than 1000 words. Just write what comes to me and don’t go back and edit. Day 13: Horizon Character focus: The Distant Prince

Tiresome.

Day after day with only his harbingers was tiresome.

There was sometimes a sacrifice to observe, a heretic to punish, a plan to create or alter. Mostly there was nothing. It was bleak and lonesome to one of such power and magnitude. The Distant Prince had existed for time immeasurable and since the catastrophic actions of his fellow deity Huntokar time had been especially immeasurable around here.

Not that the Distant Prince cared very much about that little town…Night Vale. Such a pathetic collection of humanity there. Why she would defend it so boggled the mind. Yet the fact that she cared about made Night Vale enticing. He kept himself away from it, always where the sun rose to the noisy chorus of the twisted creatures under his command. He kept himself there, distant in more than just name, but sometimes he peered over.

Not physically. Not even the harbingers had to get too close to observe Night Vale. He could see through their eyes and he didn't often like what he saw. Pathetic reatures. Mewling fleshy things crawling upon the ground.

Then something interesting happened. The man on the radio started to mention him. The Distant Prince tuned his hearing to one of his many underlings close to the town and listened. At first he felt rage at the audacity. How dare anyone mention him, mortal or not, without getting explicit concent from him to do so. He thought of smiting them…came close to it as well, but he remembered the truce he had with Huntokar and for the moment withdraw his forces.

After a while he started to listen out more and more for mentions of himself. They did not come often. In fact without action of his to stir concern they did not mention him at all. This was how he preferred it. He liked that they did not know. That his presence on the horizon disconcerted them when they remembered he was there and then faded into the shadows of their hearts.

One day he might break that truce. It would help with the tedium. It would be something to do. Something different from the usual. Who knew how stagnant life would become after living for thousands of years? Perhaps he would hibernate for a while.

They knew that one day he would bring them to their knees. It was not something he kept secret. Whilst Huntokar hid away and drowned herself in shame over his past actions, many of them plotted. She would not deny them for long once they attacked. It would be a glorious day. However, once it was over there would be nothing out here. He would be distant to no one. He would be ruler of nothing. Sometimes he wanted this and sometimes he couldn't stand the idea of it.

The Distant Prince looked out. The peaks of Night Vale were ugly blights on an equally ugly landscape. He would plan the ideal world again today. Creating it would take only a fraction of his power, but it was worth meticulously planning.

Until then he remained, as always, the Distant Prince.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

Writetober/jotober

Hiya! I’ll be drabbling a short bit of WTNV fanfic based on the Inktober prompts but turning them into writetober/jotober things instead! Block #writetober and #jotober if you don’t wanna see them!

Personal rules:

No less than 500 words featuring the prompt word or eluding to it. No more than 1000 words. Just write what comes to me and don’t go back and edit. Day 12: Remote Character focus: You

Everyone is dissatified with their life sometimes, you think to yourself as you sit in your living room. You don't know where this dissatisfaction has come from though. Just a week ago you looked around your home with a sense of accomplishment. You thought about how you'd never expected to have a place of your own and a spouse who loved you and a job that you didn't love but at least liked.

Now everything has flipped on it's head and you wonder if perhaps you have too much stuff, or maybe too little stuff. Maybe it's the right amount of stuff but it's the wrong stuff. Wrong aesthetic, wrong colours, something like that.

Your spouse hadn't changed and you still love them but…you think about all the people you dated and never married. Would life have been a lot different if you'd chosen one of them? If they had chosen you? If you could have made it work somehow. But then you would have missed all the good times with your current spouse if you had.

Your job…urgh, your job. The idea of doing the same thing over and over for so little money for more or less the rest of your life and most certainly the rest of your youth and vigor made you feel sick.

Somewhere out there you feel it calling you. You're not sure what 'it' is but it makes you want to leave as soon as you can. Right now. You're in your car before you can stop yourself. It's late. Your spouse will be home later tonight and they will be worried that you didn't leave a note. You consider texting them and explaining that you needed to go for a drive and will be back later. Somehow you know that you won't and don't feel like lying to them. Let them call the police and come find you. Maybe all of this shows that your mental health is suffering. People didn't go for a random drive late at night with no money and no plans.

You drive. You drive through the familiar streets of your home town. Soon you are on a highway. Which highway? It's unfamiliar to you. You're sure you have only been driving for a few hours and yet you are so very far from everything familiar. Far from buildings and even farms. There is desert all around you. You do not live close to a desert. How did you get there? It's not possible that you drove here and yet you still have almost a full tank of gas.

You pull over. There are no other cars on the road. There are mountains. There is endless desert. The desert is surprisingly full of life. Well, surprising to you who has not lived in a desert and knows very little about it. The moon is out now. Your phone is dead. How much time has passed? There is nothing out here except you and your car.

No. That's not true either. There is something out here still. Something calling to you. You get back into your car.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

Writetober/Jotober

Hiya! I’ll be drabbling a short bit of WTNV fanfic based on the Inktober prompts but turning them into writetober/jotober things instead! Block #writetober and #jotober if you don’t wanna see them!

Personal rules:

No less than 500 words featuring the prompt word or eluding to it. No more than 1000 words. Just write what comes to me and don’t go back and edit. Day 11: Snacks Character focus: Esteban

There was a fat black beetle crawling through the grass in his back yard. Esteban noticed it as he'd exploded outwards into the world, ready for a busy few hours of play before bed. The sun hadn't gone down yet but it was on the other side of the house now, bathing the back yard in shade which made it perfect for play time.

He didn't know how lucky he was to have a garden in Night Vale where water was often scarce - due to being in a desert but also often for other reasons. It had been something his fathers wanted though exactly for this reason. To give him relatively safe outside space to play. They had taught him to run back inside if he saw certain helicopters or winged predators in the sky and to stand absolutely still and stare at the ground of a Hooded Figure came in. Aside from that his fathers let him play as he wished.

Daddy worried a lot and was always saying, "be careful!" but papa said it was alright if he fell down sometimes as that would only make him stronger.

Esteban sat down next to the beetle and watched it crawl. If a beetle fell over did it scrape it's knee? It had a lot of knees. That would take a lot of really tiny plasters. He giggled at the thought. The beetle was quite big though as far as beetles went. Bigger than he'd seen before. Maybe the biggest in the world for all he knew. It was about the size of his thumbnail. He knew this because he managed to coax it into crawling onto his finger.

It didn't feel like anythin at all. Esteban got up carefully and started to toddle back inside. Halfway back he dropped the beetle and it seemed to disappear completely. He couldn't find it anywhere in the grass. He searched and searched, pulling back the blades as if his new friend could possibly be hiding under there.

Hurt feelings bubbled up into his small chest. He didn't have the words to explain how losing the beetle made him feel. Esteban had been so excited to show off what he has found that it's sudden departure from this world (as it seemed to be) made him feel almost…rejected. He was upset that he'd dropped it but he hadn't been the one to made it disappear.

He stormed back in, babbling the best he could with the words he knew in an attempt to explain his situation. Papa picked him up and placed him at the table, listening patiently.

"You know it probably flew away," Papa said when he was finished, "when you dropped it I mean. Even though they don't look to have them, many if not all beetles have wings. Wild animals are still wild even if they're small. I'm sure the beetle liked you. It trusted you enough to crawl onto your hand, but it likes to be out in the wild and would have been unhappy in the house."

Esteban nodded. He had a very serious expression on his face but that only seemed to make Papa chuckle. He was still a little upset but a glass of milk and a bowl of flaming hot cheerios was enough to bring him back around.