Abandoned House by Richard Bell

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Larissa managed to crawl free from the wreckage and make it to the other side of the road, her bloody left leg and arm leaving a Jackson Pollock spatter across the wet tarmac.
Four mangled vehicles lay strewn across the winding country road and huge plumes of steam became ghost screams into the weak morning light. The sole survivor, Larissa Bartholomew, snatched a smirk as she remembered how much her boyfriend hated ‘last girl standing’ movies – with a passion!
In all directions, the Scandinavian countryside proliferated like a million biker beards and shrieking black birds darted across the gap in the skyline, bound for the other side with the dead from the catastrophic accident.
The Elk lived for a few minutes before succumbing to its massive injuries. Drunken Elks, wasted on fermented apples, often stagger into the road, unaware of the dangers.
She looked back and snatched another smirk at the tiny saloon car with a fuck off moose hood ornament!
The rains had softened the verge to mush and she slipped and fell into a gully that followed the road like racing snakes. Winter was fast approaching and the nights sunk to a madness-inducing damp chill.
“Ahoooooooooyyyyyyy!” She yelled from her supine position, fully aware that wolves and bears were the eyes in the deep black woods.
“It is a womb bearer and she sheds her scarlet waters.” The tiny voice seemed to come from behind her but she couldn’t see what it was in her blurred shock.
“This is the foretold in the parchment. Muster the unalive bearers and convey the delivered to Straahl. The ceremony has outnumbered one and ten black suns.”
A vague mist enveloped Larissa, lying in her soggy dip in the world and she wondered if the voices and the exquisite floral scent were dying memories.
She began to scream until…
The huge hand that covered her mouth was all that was needed to shut down this nightmare to a dark sleep and hiccuping breaths.
Her dream was a fast flowing river in the night under a clear sky and a myriad of lights. The stars seemed like Chinese lanterns released by the universe to remember the dead. The river increased the flow and straight ahead was a huge waterfall but flowing upwards! Her body sailed up the frothing waters as salmon swam past her at dolphin speed. As she reached the top and over the crest, her eyes widened in sheer terror as a giant hooded creature lay ahead. She could make out the glinting fangs as the river flowed right into its gaping maw.
“Wake me from this…NOW!”
Her body moved inside the great jaws and she felt herself pounding on the roof of the mouth, then the throat and all the way into the stomach, flames leaping and shrill voices pleading in agony and…
Her eyes moved independently inside their sockets as she slowly came round. She realized that her surroundings had changed but couldn’t see the skies above the treetops.
Faint pairs of pinprick lights, she understood to be blinking eyes, flashed off and on in the crepuscular tree trunk army surrounding this clearing. She could make out an oddly geometric shape in front of her but dismissed it as fallen branches and happenstance.
“Stand upright, you, child of dire misfortune. Walk of you own volition into my realm and sit by my fireplace.”
As she raised herself up, two black lanterns, suspended in mid-air, burst into flames revealing a beautifully crafted hut, exuding the mist in swirling snowflake patterns.
“Are you Straahl?” She uttered through chattering teeth, the chill nipping her extremities.
“Knock with the staff on the face of the beast and choose the number of strikes from your first instinct.”
The door was arched and blood-red with the most hideous black demonic face, tongue outstretched and brow furrowed to almost no eyes, except two deep Violet diamonds that pulsated hypnotically.
She grabbed the staff by the door, swung out at full stretch then brought it cracking into the tongue of the vile thing.
“Three more I think and we’ll see what you have in store for sweet little Larissa, crash orphan and shedder of scarlet water.” Her sarcasm rippled the mist into agonized faces and death grin skulls before returning to snowflakes upon the last strike.
“Let me in, I’m freezing out here!” She murmured.
The lanterns suddenly fell to earth, transformed into a huge black millipede and scuttled off into the inky blackness that the open door revealed to her.
“Take a seat by the fire and warm your scarlet water, crash orphan. I will join you after your refreshments.”
Larissa moved with cat-like stealth inside the dark space and, once a few strides in, the door slammed shut, cracked and disappeared as she found herself in a round room with deep red walls and a floor that was a still black pool of water.
The fireplace was a beautiful ornate stove fire with a large pewter tankard on top, steaming and smelling delicious. She sat in the chair, which was the lantern millipede, sipped her delicious drink and stared into the odd violet flames in the stove.
“This is unusual but hospitable and I thank you for saving me from the wolves and bears, Straahl. Whoever you are? Sorcerer? Hermit? Zombie Apocalypse Survivor? I thank you.” Larissa felt her wounds healing and a strange warmth fill her up from the toes.
“I am shocking to see, crash orphan…”
“Please, call me Larissa.”
“Larissa, I am an elemental. I exist outside your laws but inside your lore. I ask that you see me as something natural beyond your perspective not unnatural beyond your comprehension. They made Satyr and Devil of me in their nightmare texts, but I am the scales of the land and sea and skies. I am underneath world and high above world meeting to a harmonious tune. May I present to you, Straahl.”
The stove fire creaked and groaned and shaped into a hideous tall black cloaked creature. She instantly recognized it from her dream but it was too late. Giant jaws clamped around her torso and bore down, slicing her in two. Then a huge tongue picked up the legs and shoved it deep into its throat. Her last view was her bloody sneakers passing by to fall over the waterfall and into the flames of agony.
“Kids, they’ll swallow anything. Actually, so will I.” The creature bellowed with laughter then shot the tongue out to wipe against a rough tree bark.
“I really hate cocoa butter!” He growled before slinking into the blinking eyes forest and the realm of disbelief.

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Original written work of Richard Bell aka @rick_nightmare

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images web page/designer where it has been provided.
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Freewill Writers Asylum Challenge – The River’s Edge by Richard Bell

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Friday was the day that the fleet came ashore.
Despair.

The road is rich pickings for backpack meat. The hopeful, the desperate, the tragic and the restless. They’re dead as soon as their butts hit the seat. Poisoned quills pinch the vocal chords and then a choking fit and then paralysis.
Awake, asleep, numb but aware.
No birds sing in the cutting woods. Bloody handprints make a hideous hide across the tree bark.
The Floating Butcher is my media handle. Little rafts with parts of different people pieced into one freak carrying a devil poem in their teeth and a ram’s skull for the figurehead.
‘Hot tar blood in slice scar slit Bad meat drifter’s a dead pieced kit
Wolf jaw goat creep slays the lambs
Kill your beliefs in god made man.’
Their final breath seal’s a note to the last important person in their lives – ‘lost at sea’ and the lyrics to Come Sail Away by Styx.
I sit in my office vehicle, day after day and I hate the world that is not the river. I hate it more than my scars and my shame and the dirty things they did to me on the river bank.
The river was hell for me and it will be hell for them.
My scanner lights up with the furore. The fleet landing up and down the river and the whole force getting the call, scrambling to beat the selfie ghouls and necroweb scavengers.
Meanwhile, in the cutting woods, the bloody print trees has ripe backpack fruit hanging from the branches.
They didn’t need their feet inside my wheels so I packed them neatly in the bags.
When they find this place and the altar and the rafts and the packs and the pieces and the poem and the videos.
And the quiet.
No birds sing in the backpack trees above the red soil and saturated pain. They follow the meat on the rafts on the river.
On the shoreline.

Original written work by Richard Bell aka @rick_nightmare

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

 

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Challenge Yourself – 5 Sentence Short by Peter Joyce

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It started as a button that showed I was a boy
At thirteen it is hairy and I use it as a toy

21 now and coming into season
I use it now for a particular reason

30 and I should know better
I do know how to get girls wetter

I’m 50 now and no longer a lout
I get the odd reminder he is about

Idling into 70 now and all I can see is my belly
I don’t care coz I am watching the telly.

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Original written work by Peter Joyce aka @cheshirevenom

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images web page/designer where it has been provided.
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Challenge Yourself -Asylum After Dark – The Remedy by Crimson Quintessence

Counting The Days To Insanity

Counting The Days To Insanity

The Challenge:   The power just went out and all Asylum doors are unlocked.

The power just went out and all Asylum doors are unlocked.
Tonight my horrible honeys I’ve made you a murderer.
You writing challenge is this:
A short story or poem.
You get 1 chance to commit only 1 murder.
Make it count…

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Sit there, if you will,

whimpering in your dark little corner.

I can hear your knees knocking together from here on my perch.

Your yellow drug-stained teeth, rattling together like a broken awning swinging in high winds.

I can even hear the rush of air from your sphincter clenching shut.

Guess that worries you some, considering where you house your head most of your waking hours.

My heels click as I stride across the marble floor having jumped from my perched observation point in the house, echoing in your ears like rapid-fire shots out of a machine gun.

My face calm, my breath slow and steady, tapping my favorite weapon of choice in my left palm, licking my lips in anticipation of the assault you’re about to receive.

Sit still!

squirming coward, your movements will only make your punishment last longer.  

No matter to me, I’d enjoy the delay and your cries of agony.

I smirk as I remember how I got you here.

You thought midnight romp.

I knew something far different.

When I ripped the cord of the lamp from the west wall I didn’t think of the lamps weight, not at all.

In fact, it happened so fast I’m not sure I registered thought much at all.

But, I felt, oh, how I felt.

Rage,

a searing heat, 

it rose from deep inside me.

Explosive!

ravenous almost.

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I swung that lamp at your head like a professional baseball player swinging at his last-chance grand-slam in the world series.

Carr-aaack!

The hit heard around the world,

and just like that,

blood-spatter, and out you went.

Dragging your lanky-ass over to Nana’s wing-back chair came easy to me.

There was so much adrenaline coursing through me, I felt like a freight-train on full-throttle, no brakes.

The barbed-wire was fun, wrapping it around you like a python wraps itself around its prey.

Almost made me orgasmic,

then you twitched and took my moment from me.

Son-of-a-bitch!

Still, you try to take control.

But that’s okay,

I’m not upset,

not about that any way.

I’m going to take my time with you my dear, oh, yes, I am.

I remember that first night when we were at Dale’s party.

You said you had a surprise for me and took me upstairs.

Then, like the pig you are, you dropped your pants and I said wow, that’s my surprise, you brought me up here to show me a penis?

Yes, you said, with a smart-ass grin on your face.

Then you changed your tone and said well?

I said well what?

And you and your arrogant tongue spit out — Wax it.

How vile I thought, but we both know that I left my teeth marks in your dick that night,

don’t we darling?

Look at you, all dressed up like mommy’s little blonde cherub.

Too bad she doesn’t know what a nasty little cunt of a man you really are.

But I’m going to remedy that, I’ll show her on your behalf when I fillet you and pose you like an awkward statue impaled on a spigot and run through on your front lawn.

Hannibal would be so proud to know me right now.

You my dearest have been weighed and measured and you’ve been found wanting.

This will be the remedy of all remedies.

A song for all melodies.

Your undoing.

Your fate.

Lifeless, like the squished slug by the garden gate.

Gone and forgotten.

Dust in the wind.

My arms raised,

the blows came,

the remedy delivered.

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images web page/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labeled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Freewill Writers Asylum Friday Challenge – Asylum After Dark by Richard Bell

Counting The Days To Insanity

Counting The Days To Insanity

The Challenge:   The power just went out and all Asylum doors are unlocked.

The power just went out and all Asylum doors are unlocked.
Tonight my horrible honeys I’ve made you a murderer.
You writing challenge is this:
A short story or poem.
You get 1 chance to commit only 1 murder.
Make it count…

Silence 2.0 by Richard Bell

Am I Going Insane? by Syllirium

Am I Going Insane? by Syllirium

“L O L A Lola, Lola, L O L A…”
“Quit singing that fucking song! You know that I enjoy the extra surprise underneath the skirt, Streeks. These walls are thin, even with the soft furnishing and our psycho ponchos. The storm is on the way, my sinuses are never wrong. It’s going to be a big one, as in ‘lights out’ big one.”
The brick and plaster bounced echoes around the corridors of Rothenburg Asylum, delighting some of the more lucid guests with the conversation and eliciting furious howling from the ‘way beyond help’ crew in the Extra Tight.
Permit me to introduce myself, I’m Yakuza Streeks, former head of catering at Jim Jones…just kidding…I ran my own business delivering meals to the old folks. One day I just stepped out of my skull and added a dozen Carolina Reaper peppers to the risotto and the rest, as they say, is history. Forty seriously ill and two dead. The arresting officer had a grandma that I gave the fire shits to so he pepper sprayed me on the hour for a week. They tested me and threw me in here to cool off! The guy I’m singing Lola to, that’s Cold Slab. He liked the boys dressed as girls but wasn’t much of a conversationalist. When they finally raided his home, they found three chest freezers full of transvestites and his whole house was painted in lipstick – even the windows. That’s when they dubbed him the Decorophiliac! No sense of humor and a cock like a midget’s thumb. I’m not politically correct so don’t expect Germaine Greer. We’ve got them all in here, the snapped, the ground down, the ragers, a few deities and then there’s Silence.
Now there is the top of the psycho’s pyramid.
Silence amassed a body count of around a thousand, so they estimate. He started when he was ten and was a ghost taking hitchhikers up and down the west coast, killing two or three at a time and always with the same MO. He took the tongue and the little toe on the right foot. They only caught him when his lock up where he kept all the trophies got prime-time exposure when they opened it up on Storage Hunters.
True story.
“So the storms coming, eh? What time will it hit, Cold Slab…Cold Sla…”
Darkness.
The power is out and, yes, the door is open. I’m going to upgrade my status from mischief-maker to outright unhinged, full on lunatic. I’m going after Silence.
The black corridors are a walk in my memories and I figure two more turns and I’m at the cage door to Extra Tight.
I can hear Silence snoring.
Good.
I’ll sneak in like Ramirez and powder choke him. Got a fist full of plaster dust and I’m stuffing it into his throat like he’s Linda Lovelace.
I have a better idea. I’m going to skin him and walk out of here in a Silence suit.
Got my shiv and I cut and cut in the darkness. Following the contours then just peel back and step in. He smells bad skinned like fish fart breath on a week old corpse. I used to find them delivering my meals.
Door after door just swings open with no power and I find a bag in the laundry truck to secrete myself.
Tomorrow, when the storm is gone, another one will start. Silence will resume the spree as me.
Silence 2.0!

Sane Painting - Insanity by Kim Gauge

Sane Painting – Insanity by Kim Gauge

Original written work by Richard Bell aka Rick Nightmare

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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**Click on any Image to redirect to the images web page/designer where it has been provided.
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Into The Storm by Brandon Ryals

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Walking alone through the shadows
I listen for the coming of the storm
Thunder rolls over the mountains
As lightning strikes in the distance

Lights ahead mark the pathway
So close now to the safety of home
Rain falls with a devils tenacity
As I reach the shelter of my keep

Fresh wood brings the fire to life
Throwing shadows on the walls
Yet the cold of the rain still grips my heart
As my gaze falls on the ancient tome

The power ancient and arcane within
words of salvation found on these pages
The workings of the dark gods reside here
Do I dare knowing the price to be paid

Unknown to me the demon watches
She waits patiently in the shadows
Her eyes burning with a primeval desire
As she watches with curiosity

Longing to be made flesh again
She cries out in frustration and rage
Her voice goes unheard in shadows
As tears of sorrow fall into nothingness

Sitting alone I stare into the flames
Unable to shake this sensation
I could almost swear I heard crying
Looking down I give in to temptation

Sitting before the fire I begin to read
Unseen the demon takes her place
Sitting before me within the fire
She guides my hand to the spells

It takes all her strength to guide my hands
The will to be made flesh is strong
silent desperation fills her eyes
As my eyes fall upon the proper spells

I close my eyes in contemplation
the ceremony simple but for one thing
It’s a small matter almost insignificant
A tribute payed in blood a gift of flesh

Hope fills her heart as she watches me
Her hands guide mine in the preparation
Each symbol meticulously drawn
Every item in its proper place

Sitting inside the circle I close my eyes
My heartbeats slow as does my breathing
Words of love whispered go unheard
As the verses fall from my lips

The room around me disappearing
My world falls into smoke and fire
As a figure appears in the distance
The demon approaches through the flames

My heart stops as she reaches the edge
The final barrier at the threshold
So beautiful cloaked in smoke and fire
Her eyes implore me to finish the rite

So close to the freedom she desires
Silently she begs him to finish
Tears fall from.her eyes as she reaches
Crying out in anguish for his love

The final words fall from my lips
The world around me exploding
Blinded by smoke and flame
I fall into darkness what have I done

For a mere moment hell follows
As she falls through the doorway
Crying out in triumph she is free
As the smoke fades she sees her saviour

Lying broken at her feet all but dead
Gently she lifts him into her arms
Moving into the night she lays him down
The rain washing away the stain of the pit

Gently she holds her love in her arms
Praying to the gods of old to spare him
His body lies broken and.bloody
Tears of sorrow fall from her eyes

Lightning crashes all around her
As an ancient prayer fills the night air
The night comes alive with spirits
As powers ancient and arcane fill the air

I awaken into a world of pain
Broken and bloody I open my eyes
I feel rain upon my brow so cold
I see through the haze my demon

She is so beautiful this child of perdition
Her embrace so gentle laying in her arms
Her voice a whisper in.my ears
As I succumb to the pain falling again

Staring down she smiles knowingly
The answer comes to her from above
Whispered on the darkness around her
She is granted the gift of resurrection

Smiling she lays him gently on the ground
Touching his face softly as the storm rages
A small bite on her lip and the blood flows
Her lips brush his as the gift is passed on

I open my eyes to her smiling face
Reaching for her I feel a change
Pain leaves my body in waves
Replaced by an unknown strength

Together we stand lost in our love
Finally I see her in all her glory
Before me so dark and enticing
This ravishing creature

Her eyes so dark and full of mystery
I stand awe of this goddess before me
As she falls into my embrace
Her head resting on my shoulder

With new-found strength I lift her
Together we move into the manse
Sheltered from the storm
Beginning our journey together in eternity.

Mad Max:Fury Road.

Mad Max:Fury Road.

Original written work of Brandon Ryals

VISIT AUTHOR BRANDON RYALS ON FACEBOOK CLICK HERE

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Freewill Writers Asylum Friday Challenge – Cries in the Dead of Night by Richard Bell

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Your Writing Challenge:

Late last night you woke to the sound of someone crying. It was loud and frightening.
You wanted to check it out but there’s something in the room, in the dark, watching you…
Write a very short story of this situation and how you get through it.

Walk Again, Suzy Dead Legs.

“You shitting bastards! Come back here right now. Right now!”
Suzy sat in the creeping darkness and sobbed, desperate for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. Her isolation, now that her fake friends had brought her to this ruin and abandoned her at breakneck speed, was a pair of chilled hands around the throat.
“Breakneck!” She let out a shuddering giggle between the terrified sobs and thumped her shrivelled legs, delivering metallic twangs from her wheelchair to all corners of the cavernous place.
The rippling evening sun fell below the tree line and only shards of broken glass became visible, even to her black circles for eyes.
For a moment she thought she saw someone enter the smashed front door and glide across the garbage strewn floor.
She stared intensely, desperate to discern anyone in this salacious local landmark.
Her heart had made its way to the roof of her mouth, heightening the senses to the sensitively of a spider web.
What was that in the cor…
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhh!”
Suzy’s fright spasm was so huge it tipped the chair sideways on the uneven floor, sending her into a pile of rags, leaves and old newspapers.
She was desperate to find out where the scream came from and if they had come for her.
She rolled herself onto her side and sat up against the freezing wall in the alcove.
“Is anybody there, please? I’m para…my fucking legs don’t work thanks to a drunk driver and I want to get home before I need to crap. Anybody there? ANYBODY?”
The bird song died with a gust of wind and silence shrivelled the echoes of the settling to faint cracks and pops.
Suzy fixed her gaze to the far corner of the room and stifled a breath.
“Hello…can you speak? I know that you’re there. Please talk to me, I’m scared and I can’t run and I don’t want to die in this shit hole.”
A deep growling hiss came from the darkness and a flash of light reflected from two blinking eyes.
Suzy tried to shuffle across the floor but her hands slid into large chunks of metal and glass and she shrieked loudly before crying uncontrollably.
The growl grew in intensity from the corner as the huge scream violently pierced the quiet.
“Please, I don’t want to die. Please help me. They took my phone and left me in this place and ran away and I want to go home. I just want to go ho…”
“I want your soul for company.”
Suzy thumped her legs again muttering profanities and imploring them to work again and let her run away from the horror.
“I want your
SOUL!”
Charging towards her from the gloom was a huge shaggy figure breathing loudly and staring at her with pulsating red eyes.
Suzy clutched her chest as red-hot needles shot across her arm and jaw blasting stars in this Stygian hole.
Her last breath was used cursing the fuckers that left her to this.
“Suzy? Suzy, are you ok? Suzy?”
The shaggy figure threw off his suit and hit the halogen lights around the room.
The others came running in.
“Did we get her? We got you Suzy. We got you goo…”
The group assembled around her body.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhh!”
The lights blew simultaneously as a deep growling voice came from the rafters,
“I want your souls!”

godmachine-creep-print

godmachine-creep-print

Original written work of Richard Bell aka Rick Nightmare

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Challenge Yourself Weekends – In the Dead of Night by Christie Evans

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The Writing Challenge:

Late last night you woke to the sound of someone crying. It was loud and frightening.
You wanted to check it out but there’s something in the room, in the dark, watching you…
Write a very short story of this situation and how you get through it.

 

It was 3:30am on a brisk fall night in Ireland. I was awoken to a loud crying shriek of a noise. Looking out the window the moon was full and bright, almost red. The wind was howling. As I looked around eyes barely functioning but fully dilated, I realize that sound is coming from inside the castle walls. I am now fixed and focused on the dark shadow in front of me. It’s the outline of a female. She is wailing and sobbing immensely. Her face beautiful and almost transparent. When I realize what she is my heart has sunk. She is a banshee, one who cries out in mourning for the dead. As I think to myself, no one has recently died. I didn’t know what to do. So I turned over to the love of my life to wake him for his wise advice. I touch his shoulder gently as to not frighten him. There was no response. So I tried harder to awaken him without any sign of life. My heart sinks again. It is my love the Banshee is crying for. The love of my life lay lifeless beside me and now I now shriek and cry with this Banshee. Heart broken to the core all I can do is say goodbye.

banshee_by_chriscold-d6lmyyn

Original Written Work by Christie Evans

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Challenge Yourself Weekend – Enter The Asylum

You have all entered The Asylum, received your Straight Jacket and been shown to your room.
What happens next is up to you…..
Write a story featuring someone with a strong (or problem) character trait.
Throw a wrench into their nice, everyday routine.
See what happens.
Don’t feel the need to explain the ‘how’ if something unusual is happening (i.e. talking dolls, house-hold objects that activate themselves; out-of-body/time experiences). Just focus on what it means for your character.

Arkham Asylum

Anthony Psychotic by Richard Bell

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“There’s a star man waiting in the sky He’d like to come and meet us

But he thinks he’d blow our minds
There’s a star man waiting in the sky..”
The gurney wheel squeaks David Bowie into my medicated mind via throbbing ears and features that have melted like a Dali clock. I’m a cocktail of meds beneath my stinking bloody skin and the strip lights above me flash a deep web message between blinks.
“The dog would eat his own shit but wouldn’t take a bite out of this sphincter chunk!” I hear one orderly quip and the other reply with a nonchalant “Uh huh!”
This place smells like bleach and piss and screams.
“There’s a star man waiting in the…”
“Quiet you twisted pissflap!” snarls the big-mouthed orderly whilst the other one mutters “Uh huh” under his breath.
The daydreams of adolescence plunge into a night sea and you sink until the sea bed clutches the blue limbs with dread. That’s when the fish swim by, just out of sight, and tell you who to kill. They whisper it through the rip tide and the sway of the kelp then they dart away to the ocean. Only then can I swim to the surface and dredge up the bad me. That’s when I’m at my bloody best. When my sea bed self rises to the surface to inflict the sickness of the depths onto the selected.
I’m bound up tight, gagged with a mask that prevents me tasting my prey and locked into a heavily stained padded room.
This must have housed some bat-shit crazies because the walls are gouged and bloody and shitty and offer some strange other-worldly philosophies.
I love the art of the broken mind.
I love the unrelenting sadness of thoughts out of reach of help. Stranded…
“The planet earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do…”
“Shut up in there, you shit pipe jizz shot!” yells the Mouth without his “Uh huh” back up.
I did some bad things to some good people and I can’t decide which me wanted it more. I can’t decide if Sea Bed Me or Amount to Nothing Me did those things. The media pigs called me Ziggy when the Police found my signature cut into the soles of the feet. I think David would approve. He was an artist like me. He was ridiculed and misunderstood but later his genius was recognised. I’m no genius though. My work is battery and gouge with hot wire graffiti on the body. Before they stop screaming, they’re just the sketch but after the glazed eye silence, they become the canvas.
My body was a hot wire canvas for mummy and daddy to work on when the booze wore off and they could focus on their dissatisfaction.
My last victim was my china girl. That’s the one that got me caught.
She put her finger on my lips and told me “Shh-Shh!” I untied her and she left. She was the only canvas that understood his genius.
Then he walked away from me.
He left Sea Bed Me and Amount to Nothing Me to face the cold truth without the music playing.
She’s in here with me hanging my canvasses around the dirty walls. They’re all here.
All with different songs and meanings, hanging in my own personal gallery.
I’m looking at her now as she stands before me. She’s messy with the juices of my canvases but she appreciates the art. Her hands clutch a plastic swastika and on her feet are red shoes.
She clicks them twice and is sucked into a black tornado.
And all at once I melt completely into a puddle on the floor that is my Dali weird world. They’re going to have to scoop me up for the trial and drape me over a deep perspective Christ.
“David, why hast thou forsaken me?” I ask before the night meds wipe the slate clean.

FIN

Alfred_Hitchcock_Psycho

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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Pitch Panic

street light

The darkness caresses holding tightly through the night. Silence is deafening, only the ever faint whisper of the breeze as it rustles the leaves. The only sign that your still alive. As pitch holds its embrace like a child clinging to its mother. Every movement no matter how small the shadows move in perfect rhythm not releasing it’s embrace..

Heart racing as you run faster, trying to outpace the blackness with no use it never lags behind. Stopping to catch your breathe the darkness invading your throat choking you. As you spit and cough the invasion of darkness seeping into your every pore, weighing you down.

Slowly pushing forward, tripping over your own feet, barely able to see where you’re going. Guided by only the sound of the leaves crunching under feet. You stumble and fall reaching for anything and nothing at all. The heart beats so strong you feel it throbbing in your eardrums as you fumble along. Are you farther into the darkness or is this the way to the light?

The trepidation building inside as you keep asserting yourself in forward motion. Unable to stop, fearing what may be lurking in the dark, can not stop now your only wish is for a light. Chest heaving as you turn a corner, stopping abruptly as just ahead is the dull shimmer of light. Hastily moving towards the solace of the illumination ahead, the feeling overcomes you so strong, the feeling of dread.

As your breathing slows and the glow from the streetlight grows, it occurs to you what if your safer in the darkness wrapped in the night? What if you fear is awaiting for you to see, whats been right there with you the entire time. The questions race through your mind as you move slower now one step at a time.

If what you have been running from wasn’t the darkness but what you feared was there. As your mind races you become more aware. The sound of others rapid breathing now ringing in your ears. If it so happens that going the fiends of the night have been with you through this entire plight. What if they attack when they are visible and the blanket of protection has been the night you’ve been running from.

Continuing forward every so slowly now, questioning the safety of the light as you hear branches breaking behind you in the night. Are you safer here in pitch darkness, should you now run from the light. Your mind is in shambles, racing to know. The heart in your chest heavy with dred, what if you step into the light and the monsters are fed.

As you stand on the outermost circle of light you see movement beyond the circle in the darkness of night. The heavy panting evident now. One more step that’s what it will take to release you from fear or seal your fate.

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