Fortnightly "Ghost Writing" Competition (CLOSED)

[Ponch]

   

Look! Trophies!

So get to work on those spooky stories! I look forward to reading them.  

[Oliwerko]

great poster there Ponch! 

I see you took it seriously this time. And I'm not planning on passing up this one 

[Ponch]

Thanks! I'm trying to top my "Secret Santa" theme art from last year.

I look forward to reading your story and I hope we can "scare up" a few more entries! (<-- Look! A Pun!)

[Armageddon]

great poster there Ponch! 

I see you took it seriously this time. And I'm not planning on passing up this one 

It's not great. Where is Ponch's signature favorite thing of all time? :

[Ponch]

It's not great. Where is Ponch's signature favorite thing of all time? :

Ghost cows? Ghost boobies? Ghost Santa? I love a lot of things. You'll have to be specific. And you'll also have to write a spooky story. 

[Armageddon]

It's not great. Where is Ponch's signature favorite thing of all time? :

Ghost cows? Ghost boobies? Ghost Santa? I love a lot of things. You'll have to be specific. And you'll also have to write a spooky story. 

Oh no, what have I gotten myself into now.

[Ponch]

Oh no, what have I gotten myself into now.

You've gotten yourself into a writing contest! It was a trap, you see. You thought you were just posting in a thread, but suddenly you find yourself caught in my clever trap! It's like an episode of the Twilight Zone! (Or a Saw movie, for you younger peeps. ) And there's no escape... Unless you can write yourself  out of it!

Now get to writing! Your very life depends on it! BWAHAHAHAHA! 

[kconan]

  Hmmm, Michael Bay or ghosts...In that case I might submit a story or poem about Michael Bay's ghost for a doubly valid entry.

[kconan]

I ran into the bedroom screaming and leapt into bed,
being sure to pull the covers safely over my head.

While my old, knobby knees were shaking,
my previously snoring Wife began waking.

She glanced over, rubber her eyes, adjusted her pajama-thong,
and then wanted to know what exactly in the blue hell was wrong.

I excitedly told her that out in the hall lies Michael Bay’s Ghost,
while she stared daggers at me and angrily kicked the bedpost.

She loudly questioned how I could ever get such a notion,
and I responded, “there is a ghost in the hall having sex with an explosion.”

My Wife shook her head slowly and asked if there was a sure way to know,
and I clarified that it must be Bay because he was doing it in slow-mo.

She told me to wait and then went into the hall,
while I quietly thought to myself that at least it’s not Uwe Boll.

My Wife returned shortly with a serious look of dread,
agreeing it was him though adding she didn’t know Michael Bay was dead.

I wondered aloud how to banish Bay’s Ghost and really show it whose boss,
my Wife exclaimed, “Get a realistic movie script and hold it up like a cross!”

My Wife and I carefully crept out of the bedroom door,
anxiously awaiting to see what this particularly weird haunting had in-store.

There in the hallway was Bay’s Ghost as if he was on set,
he looked at us and moaned, “OOOooo…Robots…Boobs…Robot Boobs…Get!”

My Wife calmly asked, “This isn’t a film or the afterlife, so why are you here?”
to which Bay’s Ghost replied, “OOOooo…not melodramatic enough…dear.”

She told the apparition she wasn’t his actress with a disapproving nod,
Bay’s Ghost floated towards us and said, “OOOooo…Of course…Don’t have the bod.”

My Wife angrily slapped through him and asked, “Bay isn’t dead, so how could you come by?!”
The "Ghost" of Michael Bay grinned and simply replied, “C-G-I”.

[Oliwerko]

THE KEEPERS

They say there is an order
watching over all the town
and keeping all in balance
whatever is coming down.

They say they see everything,
they say they see all the men.
They say they’re always watching,
no matter where and when.

They cannot be heard or seen
if they do not wish to be.
But rarely, they intervene
as they’re the balance’s only key.

Even the few that have seen
a Keeper, even they have never been
to that place again.
Where that place has gone, however,
none of the few can explain.

â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"

One night I wandered in the streets
in silence, darkness, all was still.
At that time the city sleeps,
air is foggy, moist and chill.

That night I walked and thought
of what to this world I have brought.
That night my conscience on me leaned:
I took up the path of fiend.

The sky was black and stars were bright
as I wandered out of sight
of all the other men out there.

I walked towards a place few know,
up a narrow street, carefully and slow.
For now, I cannot reveal where.

My footsteps echoed in the air
as wind was running through my hair
and with each further step I knew
my time on path of fiend was due.

I walked up an old stone stairway
in a street as calm as death.
Still and quiet, pitch-black darkness,
I heard my own breath.

Long forgotten by the world
was this lonely path
as if it was a place that takes
all the human wrath.

In broken windows was no light,
doors with wooden boards were sealed,
as if something in the night
was not supposed to be revealed.

As I walked up through the dark
the air was getting moister, yet
I felt dust was being present
although all the air was wet.

I heard the noise of my own feet
hitting the ground down beneath
as thick air flowed between my teeth.
I became frightened by the street.

I stopped and sharpened up my ears,
tried to supress all my fears.
Lonely in the street I stood
when I heard sounds of snapping wood.

I thought that air turned to powder
as I heard the sounds grow louder.
Something was out there I swear,
Somewhere, I did not know where.

I tried to run, but my feet
were as if glued down to that street.
I tried to scream but my voice
was replaced with a hissing noise.

I looked into every window,
I checked out all of the doors.
Everything was dark and still
from apartments to old stores.

Then I heard a screeching sound
coming from behind.
I turned around and there I saw:
a door had opened as I found.

Nothing else but dust and darkness
I saw in that door.
But what I knew for sure by then,
the sounds came from the second floor.

To this day I don’t know why
I entered the house.
Everything was old and dry
and fears of unknown made me rouse.

An old wooden stairway was there
leading to the second floor.
I slowly began walking up.
In darkness, my eyes became sore.

Only then I realized
why sounds I heard on the street
sounded very known to me.
They were the sounds which were to be
made on the stairway by my feet!

I could tell something was weird,
I felt I was not alone.
Something out there has appeared,
something strange and something feared.

As I stepped up the final step
my breath became deeper.
I turned around and there I saw
the shadow of the Keeper.

I took two more steps
and entered an empty room.
There he stood, without a movement
in a weird costume.

Through the dark I took a stare
and felt my heartbeat rise.
I saw an old clock hanging there.
Then, he looked into my eyes.

Penetrating to my mind
his eyes were like flames of hell.
I felt like I became blind
and heard a thousand voices yell.

My body was shaking
and my blood was getting hot.
My mind felt pain and aching,
I felt like I was shot.

For a while I struggled badly
sweat had come up to my face.
Then the feeling disappeared
and left a trace hard to erase.

Then I saw him there again,
the air ceased to be so thick,
and as I was relieved of the pain
I could hear the clock to tick.

In the quiet that came after
You could hear a needle drop.
Then, with sounds of evil laughter
the clock had come to a stop.

He did not cease the scaring stare
and I had no clue
what was about to follow.
To speak I did not dare.

Then, I was about to shriek,
when he came one step closer
and with extreme calmness, he began to speak:

“I’ve been watching you, my friend.
I’ve seen more than you would know,
in the night, and in the day.”

His talk was calm and slow.

“And now, seeing you stray
it is time I have to show
the path of fiend came to an end.”

I became frightened even more,
more than I’d become before.

“I’ve been watching what you do.
I’ve been watching what you think.
It’s now time I intervened
so I could speak to you.”

His words were dark and creepy,
but I knew exactly what he meant.
He was as my own conscience
that made me regret and resent.

“You should listen to those voices
that tell you what you should.
That voices are there for a reason,
for you to do good.

I saw that you are straying
from the virtue’s way.
Know, my friend, I’m here to tell you
that you shouldn’t stray.”

He was deadly serious with every single word.
To this day I remember exactly what I heard.

“Take it as a warning,
take it as a second chance.
And from this very morning
try to change your stance.

We don’t give people second chances
if they do not deserve them.
But in you, there’s lot of good
that would be shame to condemn.

When the time will start again
you’ll be on your own.
From path of fiend you should refrain
for you were lucky to be shown
what by others is not known.

To see a Keeper is not easy,
to hear one speak is very rare.
You should take our advice, friend
for we are here because we care.

We are here to watch, young lad
and keep balance that must be kept:
the balance between good and bad.”

As he was through with his warning,
the clock started to move again.

“I can’t tell more or explain.
Go now, you know what do to.”

I turned around to leave.

“We’ll be watching you.”

â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"

As I was leaving through the door
my heart was beating even more.
I slowly walked out of there
my eyes and ears sharp, aware.

With breath deep as darkest seas
I came out in the nigthly breeze.

I stopped for a while on the porch,
my ears burning like a torch.
I listened for one last time
and heard the noises I’m
making on the second floor.

Then, I also heard the clock.
Scared to death again, I quickly began to walk.

Every step was getting faster
until down the street I ran.
I swear for a while, I was fastest of men.

I ran for twenty minutes
headed for the heart of town.
I ran until I reached it,
I did not turn around.

Until morning I was waiting,
waiting for the sun,
thinking what that all had meant,
what has to be done.
And for a while in dawn I swear,
that clock echoed everywhere.

That night my life had changed.
My thoughts became rearranged.

I keep in mind the Keeper’s warning
from that very morning.
I do exactly as he advised me, for I know that’s right.
I know he had helped me during that scary night.

I tried to go there once again,
I looked for it all around,
but strangely, the street disappeared.
As if it didn’t even exist,
It is nowhere to be found.

But every morning as I wake up
I hear the known knock.
I hear the quiet ticking
of that very clock.

No more than Keepers did I need
to pull back from the path of fiend.

[Ponch]

Wonderful! Two have wandered into my storytelling trap! More victims! MOAR, I say! 

[Ghost]

Ponch! You can't have this Ghost Story thread without a story from Ghost! And my buddy Superfly agrees! Oh snap! And I'm wearing my Hellraiser outfit while I'm posting this.


Roundabout

Toby leaned back and tried to think of nothing very much at all. He was getting better at that- he just closed his eyes and imagined he was sleeping.
Quickly his mind unfocussed.
Fragments of his day drifted by. There were a few cords from his current favourite song, looping endlessly. Flickering images of people he'd met today. It was a roundabout of thoughts but he was in the centre, watching them but not THINKING them.
After a while, his left hand began to twitch.

Ah.

He didn't open his eyes. Roundabout, he hummed silently, just-a-round-a-bout... He allowed more fragments to circle around him. Distraction, distraction. Smell of coffee, taste of fresh bread. Cigarettes, bitter, icky. Toby threw memories and thoughts around, never allowing himself to let them catch his attention. After three months of training he could do it much better now. Only the roundabout was imporant, he had to be the centre and his toughts had to be outside, and then he would be safe. He could stay hidden in the centre and watch. Last night's commercials and that silly joke his wife had made and the argument he'd had just this morning whirled by.
And then, tumbling in the glittering whirlpool of his own thoughts, he saw... it.
His left hand twitched again.

It was an ugly... thing, but Toby had seen it too often by now. Its uglyness still upset him, but it was not scary anymore. From the centre of the roundabout he saw it slowly drift nearer, twitching all the time. Well, it had to. There was no skin, maybe there were not even bones, it was just...

"It moves", he had tried to explain to his wife, "like these really old stop-motion monsters in the movies. You know, the claymations? And it's like someone took a few buckets of... gristle and wire and made it into a hand. A large one."
"And that's what you're dreaming of?"
"I... don't know if I am dreaming. I am seeing it, sometimes, in the corner of my eye..."
"You're overworked", she had said. And the moment she'd leaned over to kiss him he'd seen the thing skuttle away from her shoulder. It had been SITTING there.

But that had been days ago. It twitched and wriggled, red tubes dangling from a stump that wasn't even bloody. This was not a severed hand, it was something else that just looked similar. For days now Toby was training to unfocus and make it come nearer. Once he was inside the roundabout he could stay there for quite a few minutes now. He had time. It helped that he was working at an animal shelter. Toby had developed some skill in coaxing stray dogs. Yeah. Think of this thing as a dog, but do not think about it too hard, because then it'll run away. And you want to catch it.

This morning he had woken up with the thing sitting on his actual left arm. It had drummed its fingers against his wrist, as if searching for a way in. Toby had gasped in shock and the thing had run away. It had been so close! And it was getting bolder. On his way to work he'd stopped by a supermarket to pick up some vegetables. The thing had followed him. It had tried to put some fresh steaks into his trolley. Toby didn't eat meat.

He blinked, slowly, realising that he focussed on his thoughts too much. He carefully glances around to find it. And there it was. A few seconds he'd lost concentration. Now it was sitting on his lap. A hand made of... stuff. Toby thought he saw splinters of bone in there, and wire, and glistening black pebbles. It was no longer scary but it WAS ugly, quivering like a spider before an earthquake. But he glanced at it calmly, and leaned back. He allowed his right had to drop by his side, where he had put the box. If he could trap it...

Trap it. And show it to people. Then they WOULD have to believe that he had not assaulted his friend. That he had NOT written all those letters. That he had not... He tried to push anger and guile away, that was concentrating on things, that was leaving the roundabout...

It was in his mouth.
It slithered down there.

And the circle of thoughts, all the tiny bits of memory whirled away. Toby stood alone, no longer the centre of the roundabout but just a frightened man in the dark. It was inside him. He wanted to blink and wake up and maybe get help. He could not.

"Hello?", he said, slowly. He knew he was not really speaking- this was inside his head, wasn't it?

There was a small sound and movement in the dark.
Another one of them? How?

To his surprise, his left hand instantly shot up in a friendly and welcoming wave.


Thanks for readin'!

[Ponch]

Excellent! Another entry! But there's still time for more! Halloween is still several days away. Let's have more spooky stories, AGSers!

[Ghost]

Let's have more spooky stories, AGSers!

You know... there's this rumour everyone who posts in this thread is found dead seven hours later. They say your phone rings, and there's the sound of a young lady yodeling. And then a cow crawls out of your computer. And then squirts milk at you until you die from it. Lots.

[Ponch]

Oh, that's just an urban legend. That cow was going to squirt milk all over you no matter what you do.

And that goes for all of you! 

[Ponch]

Competition is closed.

Voting begins!

[Oliwerko]

Ghost!

The story is just great. Great atmosphere, carefully constructed sentences, and a cool mystery touch to it. 

[Ponch]

Cool. That's one vote cast. But this contest can't be decided on just one vote. So cast those ballots, AGSers! Do your part for democracy! 

[kconan]

Ghost

[Ponch]

Voting closes in 24 hours. So cast those ballots while there's still time!