When I started the giveaway I put a question on the submission form that I thought would be a fun way for us all to collaborate. As the final names were drawn I started working on this mutation of words/thoughts that had nothing to do with one another. It was fun, but also – a lot. It wasn’t an easy task and the result is truly like a Frankenstein Mad Lib! But here it is! I didn’t change anyone’s sentences, and I did my best to add cohesion.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you all for this wonderful past month. ❤ This giveaway meant a lot to me and I hope everyone who won loved their gifts. I’m sorry I couldn’t give everyone something, but if anyone is interested- I still have some small items left over (like fit in an envelope size) that I can mail out. Send me an email! Kristy@wonderfullyweirdandhorrifying.com. Thank you all again, be well beasties! Once you receive your gift, please leave feedback here.
“Maven Manor” written by the Haunt-Tober 2023 entrants:
I’m going to tell you a story. It wasn’t mine alone, but all who dwelled in Maven Manor, all matter of creature. To speak these words is to tell a secret, to share a soul. This isn’t done so lightly. For: “If you ain’t first your last.”
We’re all bats in an electrical storm.
Once upon a time, in an abandoned mansion, there was a ghoul. This ghoul, however, was like none other, it had an incredible sense of its surroundings.
As the moonlight flickered and shadows danced across the decrepit hallway, a chilling whisper echoed, “You’re not alone in here.”
The woman sat up in bed, daring the darkness. She awoke from her bed to hear scratching-clawing sounds coming from under her bed.
She went to wipe the sweat from her forehead but when she pulled back her hand she saw it wasn’t sweat that coated her face, but blood.
A creak came, as loud as a battering ram.
She crawls out of bed in a daze, not knowing where the creaking sound came from. In a flash, a red door appears in front of her with whispers beckoning her inside, one’s that she cannot say no to. She held her breath in her palms so no one would steal it from her.
“Who is there?”
The ghoul could only watch as the woman walked closer to the door. A fog poured out, beckoning her.
Through the mist a dark figure began to emerge. She could feel her heart pounding and her breath quickening.
“Turn back.” The ghoul warned.
She listened, but her body froze in place.
She hesitated to turn around, with the irrational hope of a child that if you can ignore something you can make it stop existing.
She looked around to a disfigured shadow in front of her, but it couldn’t have been her own.
A creature arose, eyes bright like cinders. It didn’t look her way but went through the open door. She felt compelled to follow. The floorboards creaked below her feet. She slowly moved forward, one creak at a time.
Her hands still soaked in blood she stumbled against something at her feet.
The body on the floor was surrounded by blood. All of the tacos were gone. The monster had never been there at all. She had been alone the entire time. It was all nonsense.
And then as it crept through the hallway the creaking of the floorboard snapped her awake from a deep sleep.
“That was weird.” She spoke aloud, relieved to have been taken by a nightmare.
She stood and looked outside. Moonlight painted the forest in an alluring delicacy. Something was calling her.
“Please stay inside. Nothing is safe in nature. Nature is here to kill you!!” The ghoul screamed, but she couldn’t hear it.
“BooOOoOoOOoo.”
The wind whispered a word. Within the trees she could make someone out. A woman, her long nightgown trailing behind her. Much like the one she wore now…
The eerie screeching slowly got louder as the door creaked shut.
It was time.
As Mrs. Esther house pulled into her driveway, she recalled with the utmost certainty that she left all the lights in her house on. But they were all off. In the window she saw the woman, sometimes she would show and sometimes she wouldn’t. The ghosts didn’t bother her much, as long as they stayed out of her way. She kept to the guesthouse and let them live their tales, over and over again, as time wore on her and they remained the same.
The first time she saw her she often recalls to her friends “Taking my pup for a late night walk through the peaceful senior citizens housing development where I live, and smelling the aroma of fallen leaves and hearing the rustle of them under my feet, suddenly my pup stopped and gave a low growl. I looked to see what he saw and couldn’t believe my eyes!!!”
Now she could. And she knew: death repeats.
40 years earlier.
A group of teenagers sit around a campfire. They pass a bottle between them and take turns telling ghost stories. A young girl, Mirial, was enveloped in her tale, her eyes barely a glow near the warm fire on this crisp autumn night.
“For the second time that night, the man could have sworn that he had locked the front door already, not noticing that his closet door was now ajar and creaking slightly as he lumbered off to bed.
As he began to fall asleep a sound jolted him awake. He was on the street, scared and confused.
How have I gotten here?
The man screeched as a large bird with beady eyes lunged out from underneath his car.
It bit and clawed at his legs which screamed with hot pain.
He crept and crept and crept until his legs collapsed and they got their wish. It was over him, its mouth open, drooling.
The monster chomped down on the citizen’s arm, swishing its blood in between its teeth. Then it slashed at his chest.
He spluttered as his chest became a meat fountain. Black blood spilled from the gaping hole that once held his heart.
Death crept into the veins, pooling blood weighing down the body.
All the street lights suddenly turn off.
He wanted to scream, but couldn’t. Then a loud thumping noise began.
The bird’s body broke apart, revealing something inside… a man?
It was a strange man pounding on a battle drum, but he slowly realized this was just a dream.
As he jolted awake, frozen, he realized the sound was from someone knocking on the front door, not urgent but methodical- over and over in a rhythm. His first thought was- how long had they been doing so before he had awoken.
He grasped at his chest, thrilled to be alive. Sweat beaded on his forehead. A knocking came at the door and he reached under his pillow to grab the knife.
Seeing her photo on the bedside table, a relic of her late love, a past life, her heart wrenched with the agony of what they might have had.
He slunk across the room, toward the door, palming the kitchen knife as he prepared to face the one person who could possibly know he was there.”
“Wait, what?”
One of the other kids, Susan, interrupts the story.
“Can you let me finish?” Miriam pleads. The other faces aren’t convinced.
“I just get annoyed, Especially when said character does this!” Susan adds.
“If you don’t let me finish, you’ll be cursed.” Miriam says it fast, regretting it instantly.
One of the others, Tommy, jokes, “Don’t you put that evil on me Ricky Bobby!”
She laughs but continues.
“He went outside, knife in hand. Ready. Time seemed to pass, and suddenly he was on his knees, the knife bloody.
His mind was suddenly flooded with scenes of the bloody massacre accompanied by the shrill screams of anguished victims. “It couldn’t have.. there’s no way it was me” he said, mostly to himself though he wished the maimed bodies lying about him would hear. One body was half buried, nearly almost decomposed. “Impossible,” he said.
It’s hands grabbed the soil around it and pulled itself forward.
The corpse sprung from its now-vacant tomb and lurched up a gaggle of cockroaches onto the ground.
It crawled toward him and all he could do was let it take him, accept his fate. After all, “Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”
The next youngster, Tommy, was ready, aiming for his opportunity to frighten.
“I’ve got one. A couple is walking alone at night…”
“I thought they all had to do with the haunted Manor?” Susan interrupted.
“It does! Anyway…”
“They walked up the dark driveway and there stood an old Victorian mansion. He looked at his wife with hesitation, should we go inside?”
“See. Told you.” Tommy stares Susan down.
They wait for him to continue. He holds the lantern near his face.
“The door was open and the silence was deafening. They could hear their heartbeats in their ears. A fog rose from the marble floor. The darkness enveloped the couple, the cooling fog slithering around their ankles. They knew they had to run before it was too late, but they found themselves frozen in place.
The dark room, only lit by the moonlight, revealed several small carvings on the wall.
It read:You are no more.
And they felt it. They felt it leaving them, their soul, their lifeforce. Their bodies slithered down into the mist and evaporated. Their eyes met, but it was too late.
The youngest member, Jack, jumped up excitedly.
“My turn!… In the eerie village of Frightmore, a bumbling vampire, Count Crunchula, accidentally orders garlic-flavored donuts and unleashes chaos as his cravings turn the town’s residents into snack-hungry zombies. Now, the only way to survive is to outwit a clumsy bloodsucker and his crispy, undead minions.”
“No. no, no. Something else.” Tommy waves him
off.
“Fine…” He points to him, the obnoxious one. “We need a hot glue gun for this one.”
“Alright…
A young family found their dream home, the Maven Manor. They couldn’t wait to move in. But…
As the unsuspecting family stepped over the threshold of their new home, they saw a shadow in the kitchen but there was only silence.
The noise was coming from the dank and scary basement and there was no way we kids were going down to check what was down there….. so we sent the dog, he was the bravest of us anyhow.
The stairs creaked as they made their way down to the basement.
Around the corner, in the dank and dreary basement a noise came from the back where no light shone.
Did he want to go down into the basement to checkout what those noises were?
He made is way down, where a set of lockers seemed to thump with life. One began to open slowly. “Dad?” His son and wife followed down. “No!” He yelled, but they didn’t listen.
The goop squelched and squirmed as it left the locker.
It was alive. The others opened and more crept out. Their eyes were watching from the walls.
It leaped out and grabbed their legs, pulling them into the lockers. It wrapped around the mother’s mouth as she tried to let a scream loose and it covered the son’s eyes as he sobbed. The father did his best to fight, but it wrapped around him like an anaconda. They were all slurped up, eaten by the puss-like ooze until their skin was coated and they were snapped shut in the locker.”
“That was pretty good. But I think we should call it a night.” Miriam yawned.
“Scared of the curse?” The boy teased.
Mirial wasn’t, but had started to wonder about something she was once told by her Grandmother, about how power can be put into things to make them real.
“Ph, No way.”
The others walk ahead of her even as she calls, her own lantern is fading and she can’t see them.
“Hey! Wait up!”
Suddenly. She’s alone.
‘Look straight ahead. Don’t look back.
She felt something brush against her leg walking through the dark forest.
A well was up ahead and the light cast from the moon seemed to draw her in. She moved closer.
She stared down into the well as she heard a splash of water echo against the walls.
Then a loud growl.
She slowly walked around the corner to seek out what could have made that haunting sound that she had never quite heard before. Was that an animal? A person? She was terrified to find out but her feet pushed her forward anyway.
She came across a cabin as rain began to drop. She ran to it for shelter and slammed the door shut, feeling as if she was being chased.
As she sat with her back to the wall, she could hear the faint scratching of fingernails dragging up and down the other side of the wooden door. She looked around to a disfigured shadow in front of her, but I couldn’t have been her own. Right?
She heard water and the cabin seemed to be unending, cavernous. It was somehow connected to the well, she was sure of it. A baseball bat leaned against the wall, she grabbed it, her fingers white with fear.
The cavern was silent except for the sound of lapping water, but the waves seemed to vibrate with an unseen presence.
The Shape moved like a Great White Shark. It was a force of nature yet unnatural. it wasn’t guided by instinct but by pure evil.
As the sound and shape grew closer she swung the baseball bat wide, connecting with the beast’s face for the second time.
It didn’t work and it grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her into the air, letting out the worst sound imaginable. It leaned it and bit her neck, a deep, penetrating wound.
20 years earlier
I never stopped thinking about that night, it haunted my waking and sleeping life. I was an older woman now, but those childhood stories never leave you.
That cabin, those woods… The rain crashed against the cabin with the strength of the tides of the ocean. The wind roared and thrashed me around in all directions but still unmistakably guided me towards the front door. Even though I knew I should stay here. I was lost. I looked into a mirror, there were so many, knocking to the ground, sending years of bad luck my way. I just saw my reflection blink. Then…
My eye is being torn out with a melon baller I can feel every excruciating nerve ending ripping apart as my screams drown out the horrid fleshy sound.
But when I feel my face, I’m fine.
I hear something growl behind me and I run out.
—-
Awoken in the middle of the night by a thud, I look around at the shadows of my room and find glowing, inhuman eyes staring at me.
It speaks, a scratchy whisper. “You need to come with me.”
In this part of the story, I am the one who dies.
Maybe I always was.
I followed it to the tree line, my nightgown blowing in the cool night breeze.
It happened every ten years. Last time I was walking late at night, when I noticed someone walking behind me. I wasn’t sure how to react.
Deep in the forest, I saw a shape shifter standing 20 feet away from me. I couldn’t speak or move but just stared at it vanishing into the dark night. I knew it was the same one. My monster.
Ever since, Under the red moon, I feel an insatiable thirst.
I spoke to the air as if it would respond. Part of me always knew it would be back.
“I … I thought I’d never see you again….”
The same beast was back, I knew it would be. It bit into my thigh and I relished it, euphoria running through me.
Depravity overwhelmed my sensibilities, the only difference between myself and the filth in which I lived was the blood pouring out of my leg. Unable to move, I sat in the darkness and lost track of time, waiting to be consumed by pain and wishing for death that would never come.
“We all turn into mycelium in the end.”
When you choose the lesser of two evils, always remember that it is still an evil.
The ghoul watched. It had always known that it was always going to end like this…
The end result was unpalatable.
And the ghoul knew.
More would come.
The final winners of Day 31 and our digital prizes:
Wonderfully Weird & Horrifying 