Post by flesheater on Aug 24, 2012 12:40:40 GMT -5
Recently I went through a spell of writing 100 word short stories; I believe in just one day I wrote 8 of them. Has anyone else found a certain fascination with this idea? This could make an interesting sticky for a continuous thread to share these. I also found these very, very short stories extremely inspirational as well as a superior way to capture an idea.
I'll post what I've written so far; if anyone else has any of these I would greatly enjoy (as I'm sure most would) reading them. I'm posting in this section due to the content...it's Dark Fiction and nothing else.
The Beauty of Dying
The cold night air was still as I sat on my porch, soaking in the autumn air; reminiscing of days past as I inhaled a deep drag from my pipe. I heard them rustling about the brush, their low growls haunting my wildest fantasies. Living in seclusion allows one to reckon the sounds, the movements of nature. It also grants you the same privileges of the unknown; that certain entity that strikes fear into the hearts of the unaccustomed. I sat there, soaking in the beauty of that dark, fall landscape. Their now closer; I embrace my last worldly impression.
Another Sleepless Night
The ghosts come and go; some wandering aimlessly, hopelessly in search of a lost and forgotten life, while others wander with malicious intent. When those forlorn souls pass through me I’m overcome with sadness, unending pain and sorrow. The vengeful, spiteful ones only seek to hurt me anyway they can. Although they cannot afflict my being physically they can torment my mind with their horrible pasts. Violent, hate filled pasts that only the most evil individuals could posses. I don’t know why they’re here, why they won’t just leave. I lie here very still in hopes I may go unnoticed.
The Long Road Home
Finally…it’s Friday, the ending of another week of my life that has been spent, sold to the past. As I make my way home I pass the time with joyous thoughts of my wife and son, my family. I interrupt the monotonous drive with the beauty of my memories of the smiles, the happiness gleaming in their faces as the miles go by. As I pass over the train tracks I’m overcome with an intense pain, it doesn’t last long though. The memories are so much more vivid now, like I’m reliving them. These drives home always seem the longest.
Through the Eyes of the Dead
The summer sun is bathing me in its warmth as I lie here watching the leaves dance on their branches, dancing to the rhythm of the calm breeze. My scenery is interrupted abruptly by a man staring back at me. His official appearance is alarming, the nature of his visit bewildering. As I lie there looking up at him a sense of woe falls upon his grieving face. His eyes fall sullenly away from mine as he looks at his wrist watch. Glancing into my eyes once again he raises his hand over my eyes. Now I only see darkness.
That Feeling
Sitting alone, though a presence can be sensed, something or someone standing near; can you feel it? Breaking concentration, sitting now still as can be; can you hear it? Pausing momentarily holding that last breath; is there something there? It’s as if it’s closing in, becoming ever more present than before; should you look? Nonsense, there is no one else here, nothing here; do you believe it? The tension is building, though its nonsense the anxiousness continues to grow, to overcome all emotions; this is ridiculous isn’t it? There’s someone standing close, very, very close; look behind you! It’s nothing.
Noise in the Dark
I awoke in the middle of the night, startled by the sound of a creak in the floor. Lying, very still, I listened carefully, unsure of what might have caused the noise. There was nothing unusual to be heard and I soon eased my worries and began to settle, my eyes feeling very heavy. As I felt myself drift into a deep sleep I heard yet again another noise. This sound was not the creaking of the floor though; this was the sound of the blankets being shuffled. Suddenly, I felt a tiny hand grasp the skin of my leg!
The Unborn
Melissa awoke suddenly, the sound of the fireplace crackling behind her. It was a cold winter night, the full moon shone through the window. As she turned to face the warmth of the fire a small girl stood above her. Her soft, pale skin glistening like that of the snow, her white night gown splattered in deep red hues. Melissa gasped in fright as she looked upon the small child. In a hollow, empty voice the girl asked; “Why did you do this to me?” Melissa’s lips quivered in fear, she broke in tears, knowing precisely what she had done.
The Curse
Patrick returned home, dressed in black and still wearing the face of the mourning. Although the investigations continued to interrupt his daily life, the execution of his plan was flawless. The money inherited washed away his guilt, the pictures of his recently deceased wife still strewn about the home. The funeral had set his mind at ease, as if to be the final chapter of his story. He went to the cupboard for a drink; as he opened the door of the liquor cabinet a piece of paper fell to the floor. It read “I’ll never forget” signed “Forever Yours”.
The Attic
Dennis was a single man; at times the loneliness was welcomed, but when the old Victorian house felt cold and empty the loneliness ravaged his mind. While reading one night, Dennis heard a loud noise followed by many quickly paced thuds. Startled by the sound he stood up at once; the noises continued. Following them to the top floor of the home he stood outside the attic door, the laughter of children echoed. As he placed his ear to the door a voice called out “come play!” His heart sank as the voice trailed off in a hoarse, sinister laugh.
The Uninvited Stranger
The sound clamored through the empty house as a door slammed shut. I sat up quickly from my deep sleep, my heart pounding loudly in my head. The moonlight shone through the blinds of the windows, lighting the house in a deep, sullen midnight blue. Heavy footsteps echoed as I climbed out of bed and made my way to the bedroom door. I strained my eyes, looking through the slightly open door. As I peered into the darkness a tall, dark figure passed through the moonlight, vanishing into nothingness, into darkness as the footsteps continued to bellow through the house.
Crimson Princess
Her eyes were wild like fire, a beautiful blue like the heavens above. Her hair danced through the air, seducing in its gestures. Her lips were soft and full, seeming to move in rhythmic perfection. Her skin radiated like the rays of the sun, smooth as silk. Her perfume induced the mind with alluring fantasies. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen and I loved her. I swore to her a love eternal, a love that would survive even in death. I relished in her sweetness as I ingested the last of her love, now she’s mine forever.
The White Death
I stared into the abyss of the white death, it emptied my thoughts, drained my very being. My eyes affix themselves, unmoving, as it engulfs me. That cold, blank stare of the white death; so cold, so dead, it takes everything and gives nothing as it floods into my mind. I feel like a rotting, lifeless corpse as I look back into its vast emptiness. As I become further enamored with the white death a single thought begins to stir; a dark thought contrasting the nothingness of the white death. I stare forever, hopelessly, aimlessly wondering, is this like dying?
A Conversation with an Angel
My name is not important, the man, dressed quite queerly said to me. My puzzled look inspired the man to continue with his words. You must understand something about me; I do not come to you by mere coincidence, I was in search of you. Your fate is to be fulfilled today, for I am an angel. At this notion I laughed at the man; do you take me for a fool? I asked. As foolish as it may seem it is nonetheless true, angels were not designed with the means to create life but rather designed to destroy it.
The Printer
John sat at his desk, pretending to partake in the mundane duties of his job. He sat fantasizing about anything and everything, lost in a day dream. His concentration broke when he heard his printer turning its rollers; but John hadn’t printed anything. Staring at the printer he anticipated the usual start up page to be printed, but what came from the printer was much more than that. The paper read; “Hi John, where or what would you like to be?” John, bewildered, said “what in the hell is this?” Another paper printed that read; “Very well, hell it is.”
Loves Cold Embrace
She laid there staring up at me, her eyes never leaving mine. The essence of love poured from her expression, an undying love. Her mouth rested slightly open, inviting one last kiss. The warmth of her skin soothed mine as our bodies lie together. Neither of us would ever love another as we’ve loved each other; no one else will ever take our love now. I kissed her soft, warm lips one last time, burning the sensations into my memory. As I lay beside her I whispered to her one final “I love you” as the steel caressed my skin.
Embryo
It was a warm, humid and miserable summer. The vibrant, green scenery flourished in this weather; the moisture in the air and the incessant raining was quite peculiar for this regions climate. In the trees hung large, embryonic sacks, much like that of the caterpillar nests that were accustomed to our natural species of trees. However, these cocoons held something different, something of an extraterrestrial origin. The embryo appeared much like that of a fetus within a womb. One of the egg sacks began to move, violently swinging about the branches. The birthed creature appeared very human, though fully grown.
I'll post what I've written so far; if anyone else has any of these I would greatly enjoy (as I'm sure most would) reading them. I'm posting in this section due to the content...it's Dark Fiction and nothing else.
The Beauty of Dying
The cold night air was still as I sat on my porch, soaking in the autumn air; reminiscing of days past as I inhaled a deep drag from my pipe. I heard them rustling about the brush, their low growls haunting my wildest fantasies. Living in seclusion allows one to reckon the sounds, the movements of nature. It also grants you the same privileges of the unknown; that certain entity that strikes fear into the hearts of the unaccustomed. I sat there, soaking in the beauty of that dark, fall landscape. Their now closer; I embrace my last worldly impression.
Another Sleepless Night
The ghosts come and go; some wandering aimlessly, hopelessly in search of a lost and forgotten life, while others wander with malicious intent. When those forlorn souls pass through me I’m overcome with sadness, unending pain and sorrow. The vengeful, spiteful ones only seek to hurt me anyway they can. Although they cannot afflict my being physically they can torment my mind with their horrible pasts. Violent, hate filled pasts that only the most evil individuals could posses. I don’t know why they’re here, why they won’t just leave. I lie here very still in hopes I may go unnoticed.
The Long Road Home
Finally…it’s Friday, the ending of another week of my life that has been spent, sold to the past. As I make my way home I pass the time with joyous thoughts of my wife and son, my family. I interrupt the monotonous drive with the beauty of my memories of the smiles, the happiness gleaming in their faces as the miles go by. As I pass over the train tracks I’m overcome with an intense pain, it doesn’t last long though. The memories are so much more vivid now, like I’m reliving them. These drives home always seem the longest.
Through the Eyes of the Dead
The summer sun is bathing me in its warmth as I lie here watching the leaves dance on their branches, dancing to the rhythm of the calm breeze. My scenery is interrupted abruptly by a man staring back at me. His official appearance is alarming, the nature of his visit bewildering. As I lie there looking up at him a sense of woe falls upon his grieving face. His eyes fall sullenly away from mine as he looks at his wrist watch. Glancing into my eyes once again he raises his hand over my eyes. Now I only see darkness.
That Feeling
Sitting alone, though a presence can be sensed, something or someone standing near; can you feel it? Breaking concentration, sitting now still as can be; can you hear it? Pausing momentarily holding that last breath; is there something there? It’s as if it’s closing in, becoming ever more present than before; should you look? Nonsense, there is no one else here, nothing here; do you believe it? The tension is building, though its nonsense the anxiousness continues to grow, to overcome all emotions; this is ridiculous isn’t it? There’s someone standing close, very, very close; look behind you! It’s nothing.
Noise in the Dark
I awoke in the middle of the night, startled by the sound of a creak in the floor. Lying, very still, I listened carefully, unsure of what might have caused the noise. There was nothing unusual to be heard and I soon eased my worries and began to settle, my eyes feeling very heavy. As I felt myself drift into a deep sleep I heard yet again another noise. This sound was not the creaking of the floor though; this was the sound of the blankets being shuffled. Suddenly, I felt a tiny hand grasp the skin of my leg!
The Unborn
Melissa awoke suddenly, the sound of the fireplace crackling behind her. It was a cold winter night, the full moon shone through the window. As she turned to face the warmth of the fire a small girl stood above her. Her soft, pale skin glistening like that of the snow, her white night gown splattered in deep red hues. Melissa gasped in fright as she looked upon the small child. In a hollow, empty voice the girl asked; “Why did you do this to me?” Melissa’s lips quivered in fear, she broke in tears, knowing precisely what she had done.
The Curse
Patrick returned home, dressed in black and still wearing the face of the mourning. Although the investigations continued to interrupt his daily life, the execution of his plan was flawless. The money inherited washed away his guilt, the pictures of his recently deceased wife still strewn about the home. The funeral had set his mind at ease, as if to be the final chapter of his story. He went to the cupboard for a drink; as he opened the door of the liquor cabinet a piece of paper fell to the floor. It read “I’ll never forget” signed “Forever Yours”.
The Attic
Dennis was a single man; at times the loneliness was welcomed, but when the old Victorian house felt cold and empty the loneliness ravaged his mind. While reading one night, Dennis heard a loud noise followed by many quickly paced thuds. Startled by the sound he stood up at once; the noises continued. Following them to the top floor of the home he stood outside the attic door, the laughter of children echoed. As he placed his ear to the door a voice called out “come play!” His heart sank as the voice trailed off in a hoarse, sinister laugh.
The Uninvited Stranger
The sound clamored through the empty house as a door slammed shut. I sat up quickly from my deep sleep, my heart pounding loudly in my head. The moonlight shone through the blinds of the windows, lighting the house in a deep, sullen midnight blue. Heavy footsteps echoed as I climbed out of bed and made my way to the bedroom door. I strained my eyes, looking through the slightly open door. As I peered into the darkness a tall, dark figure passed through the moonlight, vanishing into nothingness, into darkness as the footsteps continued to bellow through the house.
Crimson Princess
Her eyes were wild like fire, a beautiful blue like the heavens above. Her hair danced through the air, seducing in its gestures. Her lips were soft and full, seeming to move in rhythmic perfection. Her skin radiated like the rays of the sun, smooth as silk. Her perfume induced the mind with alluring fantasies. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen and I loved her. I swore to her a love eternal, a love that would survive even in death. I relished in her sweetness as I ingested the last of her love, now she’s mine forever.
The White Death
I stared into the abyss of the white death, it emptied my thoughts, drained my very being. My eyes affix themselves, unmoving, as it engulfs me. That cold, blank stare of the white death; so cold, so dead, it takes everything and gives nothing as it floods into my mind. I feel like a rotting, lifeless corpse as I look back into its vast emptiness. As I become further enamored with the white death a single thought begins to stir; a dark thought contrasting the nothingness of the white death. I stare forever, hopelessly, aimlessly wondering, is this like dying?
A Conversation with an Angel
My name is not important, the man, dressed quite queerly said to me. My puzzled look inspired the man to continue with his words. You must understand something about me; I do not come to you by mere coincidence, I was in search of you. Your fate is to be fulfilled today, for I am an angel. At this notion I laughed at the man; do you take me for a fool? I asked. As foolish as it may seem it is nonetheless true, angels were not designed with the means to create life but rather designed to destroy it.
The Printer
John sat at his desk, pretending to partake in the mundane duties of his job. He sat fantasizing about anything and everything, lost in a day dream. His concentration broke when he heard his printer turning its rollers; but John hadn’t printed anything. Staring at the printer he anticipated the usual start up page to be printed, but what came from the printer was much more than that. The paper read; “Hi John, where or what would you like to be?” John, bewildered, said “what in the hell is this?” Another paper printed that read; “Very well, hell it is.”
Loves Cold Embrace
She laid there staring up at me, her eyes never leaving mine. The essence of love poured from her expression, an undying love. Her mouth rested slightly open, inviting one last kiss. The warmth of her skin soothed mine as our bodies lie together. Neither of us would ever love another as we’ve loved each other; no one else will ever take our love now. I kissed her soft, warm lips one last time, burning the sensations into my memory. As I lay beside her I whispered to her one final “I love you” as the steel caressed my skin.
Embryo
It was a warm, humid and miserable summer. The vibrant, green scenery flourished in this weather; the moisture in the air and the incessant raining was quite peculiar for this regions climate. In the trees hung large, embryonic sacks, much like that of the caterpillar nests that were accustomed to our natural species of trees. However, these cocoons held something different, something of an extraterrestrial origin. The embryo appeared much like that of a fetus within a womb. One of the egg sacks began to move, violently swinging about the branches. The birthed creature appeared very human, though fully grown.
I don't believe anyone has posted anythign there yet, but I will transfer this thread there 
Thank you for starting us off!
I discovered creepypastas about a month ago (if you're like I was and don't know what that means, they are short horror stories designed to be "copy and pasted" around the web, usually with no listed author to add to the atmosphere. They range form about 50-1,000 words, but some are even longer. 
) text story: 
Oh and the other half was inspired by the movie the Yearling, which I hated, lol.