Fortnightly Writing Competition - Wafts of Mist (Results)

Started by Sinitrena, Fri 07/10/2016 20:54:38

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Sinitrena

A castle obscured by fog, a moor where the dead rise from the mist, ghosts and ghouls or just plain old murder. Or maybe even nothing at all but the imagination of a scared wanderer. It is up to you.

As long as there is some kind of fog or mist, or even smoke if you prefer, that gives the setting of your story a spooky or surreal atmosphere, I'm happy.

Get your stories in by the end of October 22.

Cassiebsg

Uhm... I just wrote one on my phone yesterday while at work... does have smoke on it... does that count? Or would it be cheating?

There are those who believe that life here began out there...

Sinitrena

In general, the rule is that entries must be created for the competition, but if it isn't finished yet and the larger part still needs writing, I'd say that's fine.

Cassiebsg

Nah, I'll leave it on my phone then. ;)
BTW, that's an awesomely impressive trophy collection! (nod)
There are those who believe that life here began out there...

Mandle

Quote from: Cassiebsg on Sat 08/10/2016 20:08:44
Uhm... I just wrote one on my phone yesterday while at work... does have smoke on it... does that count? Or would it be cheating?

I wasn't sure if you meant cheating in this contest, or cheating your workplace by writing a story on company time... :P

I would love to read your story though, Cassie: Why don't you just post it here as "inspirational material", but not an official entry? Maybe use hide tags to avoid elongating the thread?

Baron

I say you use Mandle-esque editing prowess to turn it into a completely different story, and then enter the contest.  :=

Sinitrena

*peeks out from the shadows.
Hey, where is everyone? I hope the man-eating mist didn't get you all 8-0
Two days left!

Baron


Blondbraid

I had an idea and saw the deadline was today, so I here is my short story:

A light in the marsh
I would never have taken the shortcut across the marsh if I had known what happened there, but at the time I was ignorant of what lied beneath the moss.

The skies were dark that day, cloaking the sun in a thick veil of grey clouds and the land in a cold bleak fog, rendering even the late afternoon as dark as twilight. But as the fog was thick yet pale and washed out like milk poured into water, the wind was cold and sharp, piercing even my thick wadmal coat as I walked the lonely road to my uncles village. I had walked this road before, with my father, but now I was alone.

It is a curious thing, the nature of a place, how inviting and beautiful it can be in the golden sunlight pouring through the emerald leaves of healthy living trees, and how treacherous and haunting it becomes once autumn strips the trees of their leaves leaving only bare husks clawing at a darkened sky. The road was long, curving around a large marsh before leading to the village, but I remembered having seen the lonely church tower rising above the treetops across the marsh when I walked there with my father. But now there was fog, thick and shrouding. When I stared across the open marsh I saw no trees or church tower, only coarse high grass stretching out seemingly without end.

I stood still, pondering whether I dared risk taking the shorter path through the marsh or not when I saw it. A faint light soaring above the grass out there, drawing me closer. I could make out a silhouette in the fog, a young woman holding a lantern. Confident in seeing someone else out here I began walking towards her. The young woman wore a long and beige dress with a thick scarf draped over her shoulders and as I came closer I saw her face. It was a plain, yet agreeable face if it had not been for the web of blue veins hinted under her pale skin. Still, she had an air of calmness around her and I was certain that she was just as damp and cold as I, and that she if any could lead me across the marsh.

She looked at me, and I asked “Are you from the village?”. She nodded and gave a soft hum. With a gesture she told that she wanted me to follow her, and I followed, in a direction that seemed to lead towards the village. I studied her as she walked in front of me, her ash-blond hair in a loose bun with streaks of loose hair hanging down along her neck and parts of wet moss clinging to the damp stains at the bottom of her dress. Then I remembered myself, and tried to start talking to her, but my throat felt already sore from the cold air and harsh wind. I asked her name. “Clara” she said, in a calm clear voice. “Do you live here?” I asked. Another soft hum. “I do.” she said casting a quick glance backwards. “Follow me and I will take you.” I did, but I noticed that I had already fallen behind.

As we walked a lingering unease had begun to grow in me, and the further we went the less I wanted to lose the sight of her lantern. While I curse that I didn't know it when I walked through the fog, part of me still thinks of my ignorance as a blessing. I didn't know why mothers warned their children away from this place, and I didn't ponder the depths of the dark pools of water between the high and coarse grass. My only concern then was Clara and trying to follow her footsteps without falling further behind.

She walked quickly across the marsh, leaving barely a sound moving across the grass and moss. I hurried after her and tried to keep up, afraid to lose her and be left alone in the dark cold fog. But even as I hurried my steps, I did not get closer to her, and I did my best to try and keep her within my sight. “Wait!” I tried to cry, but my throat was hurting. She was almost disappearing into the fog, but I could still clearly see the light of her lantern. With my eyes fixed on the light I hastened across the marsh with moss and branches cracking beneath my feet. It was a wet and uneven ground and I stepped into cold puddles a few times, but I dared not take my eyes away from her light.

Suddenly I felt sharp skeletal claws from below against my leg and my throat tore itself apart in a scream. I frantically kicked and stumbled when I saw the black veiny thing. It was already too late when I realized that it had merely been a tree branch which had caught my leg, Clara was already gone and I was lost and alone.

I cannot properly tell how I found my way out of the marsh, but it felt like an eternity until I at last saw the village, and wet and cold stumbled into the house of my uncle and his wife. I didn't try to hide that I had walked across the mash, and I doubt that they would have missed the damp smell and wet stains on my clothes if I had. I barely had the strength to remember that Clara was still out there with her lonely light fading away in the fog.

They scolded me for being so careless, walking  in such a pagan place in the late hour, warning me of how the dark and heavy moss could take hold of a man, drag him down into the marsh forever. Normally I would have defended myself, but I felt too tired, tired and cold and my legs felt weak. I was shivering, so with the help of my uncle I picked up a blanket and sat close to the fireplace huddled under the blanket, yet I could not stop shivering and I could not speak. I sat so very, very close to the fireplace with the blanket wrapped around me, but it wasn't until well after the sun had risen the next day that I was able to talk about the marsh. For you see, in her scolding the wife of my uncle had said that almost a year ago, Clara, the neighbors daughter, had drowned out there and was never to be found again.


Baron

Gah.  I tried, but my project is in no state to be shared.  Can I have a couple day extension?  Otherwise I'll have to concede. :undecided:

Sinitrena

In the name of competition (who wants to win by default, anyway?), I extent the deadline by three days. New deadline: October 26th.

Blondbraid

Nice to hear, it's no fun fun in being the only competitor.
Still, it will be fun to hear your opinions on my story!


Baron

Blood Fog

   The sudden knock on Jossie's door was urgent, as it always was at this late hour.  Her dogs instantly began to bark and scratch excitedly at their kennel doors, causing the small house to echo with their chorus.    It took Jossie somewhat longer to raise herself from the well of slumber, but the knocking and the dogs both grew so frantic that sleep became impossible.

   â€œMommy?  Is it the fog?” asked Carla's  timid voice.

   â€œNo Sweetie,” Jossie soothed without cracking an eye.  No one would be knocking at her door in the fog.  “Go back to bed.”

   â€œMommy, I'm scared.”

   Jossie sighed and stood up.  Fear was such a silly thing.  Forgivable, perhaps, in the mind of a young child, but quite a dangerous quality to retain when one grew up.  “Fetch Charmo and Lupins from their kennels,” she said sternly.  The child had to learn to face fear, or one day it would kill her.  And Jossie loved her child too much to let that happen.

   A moment later she had a lantern lit and her boots on at the door.  Jossie always slept fully dressed now, for the midnight knocks were too frequent these days.  When would the hunters learn to mind the hour....

   She pulled the door open to see a tall, thin man with hateful eyes stooping in the night chill.

   â€œMayor Hyrworth,” Jossie said calmly.  “Won't you come in?”

   The man sneered at the idea, then recoiled when the two dogs joined her.  Charmo was a huge creature, built like a wolf but brown like a bear.  Lupins was nearly as high in the shoulder, but lithe and black as pitch.  Both sat obediently for their mistress, but the Mayor cringed as if they were snarling and ready for the kill.

   â€œConfound it, woman!  Muzzle those monsters!” he snivelled, clutching at his chest.

   â€œYou know that the Carnivore Law does not apply beyond the village walls,” she lectured in an almost bored tone.  “Now was there something....?”

   The Mayor waved and a slender, cloaked figure emerged tentatively from the shadows.

   â€œThe eldest Poxon girl,” the Mayor muttered, jerking the hood off the young woman's head.  A bloom of reddish curls exploded from where the hood had been.  She couldn't be more than fifteen, Jossie thought.

   â€œI'm Falla,” she said shyly.  “It's my family, Ma'am.  I mean Mistress.  I mean, they're....”

   â€œSisters chased a rabbit while the father was chopping wood,” the Mayor interrupted curtly.  “Half the village out searching in the fading light, but now most are sensibly back within the walls.”  He spread his hands as if to say who could blame them, but stopped mid-gesture given his current company.

   â€œMother and father are still out there,” Falla spoke nervously.  “But they sent me to see if you would help?”

   Jossie had already grabbed her cloak from the hook by the door.

*   *   *   *   *   

   The night had the chill of late autumn and the moon shadows played tricks on the eye with the twisted bare-branches of the forest trees.  The leaves crunched out a measured rhythm under their feet, and double time under the paws of her two pets.  The Mayor had slunk back to the safety of the village walls at the soonest opportunity, so now it was just Jossie and the suddenly talkative Falla alone in the woods.  Jossie held a dog lead in each hand, Falla a lantern and a walking stick.

   â€œAren't you scared when the fog comes?” Falla asked inquisitively.  She was walking next to Jossie now that the dogs were well in front on their lengthy leads.

   â€œI am not afraid of my own babies,” Jossie replied.  “The fog comes and goes.  If you are prepared, then that is all it does.”

   â€œBut the... the curse?” Falla blurted. 

   â€œWhat of it?” Jossie asked.

   â€œWhat do you do when the madness sets in?”

   Jossie shrugged.  “I lock the kennel doors.  I'm sure you've noticed at your own home that the fog doesn't seep much indoors.  The madness passes quickly.”

   â€œBut, what about out here?” Falla asked.

   â€œOut here is trickier,” Jossie conceded.  She scanned the western sky from whence the wind blew.  There were clouds there, blocking the stars, but they seemed high and nonthreatening for the time being.  “Are we there yet?”

   â€œUm.... Close.  I think.....”  Falla looked confused by the darkness.

   â€œAlright,” Jossie said.  “Now don't panic, but I'm going to let the dogs off their leads.”

   â€œWhat?!?” Falla gasped.

   â€œThey need to run to sniff out the trail.  Don't worry.  They are very well trained,” Jossie assured the girl.

   â€œBut what if the fog comes?” Falla asked, wide-eyed in the moonlight.

   â€œThere are a lot of other carnivores in the forest at night,” Jossie reminded her.  “The two dogs will be the least of our worries.”

   Falla just shook speechlessly.  Perhaps Jossie was not as reassuring as she had meant to be, but unhitched the dogs regardless.

   â€œLet them sniff the shoe again,” Jossie commanded.  Falla shrunk back, terrified that the large dogs were now loose to pant happily at their mistress's side.  “It is the only way to find your family,” Jossie lectured.  Truly fear was the mind-killer.

   Falla very tentatively stretched out her arm, dangling the shoe about six feet from the dogs.  They looked at each other, and then to their mistress questioningly.

   â€œOh, for heaven's sake!  Every moment counts, Falla!  Go on!” she said to the dogs, and they promptly did.  Falla let out a fleeting shriek and dropped the shoe for the dogs, retreating to the safety of a nearby tree.  The dogs had their sniff, and then bounded off, zig-zagging through the forest.

   â€œCome on,” Jossie beckoned to the girl, but the timid thing wouldn't budge.  Jossie rolled her eyes at the absurdity.  “How many raccoons do you think live in a nice big tree like that?” she asked wickedly.

   Falla was instantly at her side once more.

*   *   *   *   *

   Within the hour the dogs had the scent, but sadly the trail led deeper into the thick woods that surrounded the village bounds.  This made even Jossie nervous, for every step they took deeper into the forest meant a step further away from the shelter of walls. 

   â€œShould we call for them?” Falla whispered.  Jossie understood “we” to mean “you.”

   â€œI don't hear your father calling,” Jossie replied as calmly as she could.  If the search continued, then surely they would hear voices calling.

   â€œMaybe they found them while I was getting you?” Falla asked optimistically.

   Jossie shook her head.  Not with the trail leading deeper into the forest, away from the village.

   An owl hooted hauntingly in the distance.

   Reluctantly they continued on.

*   *   *   *   *

   A rustle of dried leaves crinkled to their left.  The dogs were instantly between the two women and the sound, barking defensively.  Falla held her lantern aloft, the feeble light struggling against the brilliance of the moonlight.  A pair of glowing eyes flashed briefly, and then were gone.  A sudden growl shook the night.

   â€œOh my god!” Falla gasped, turning to run.

   â€œDon't move,” Jossie hissed, grabbing the girl by the cloak.  “They see movement!”

   The growl echoed again, and suddenly a dead tree creaked loudly and fell with a shattering thud.  A hulking shadow lurched from the darkness, stumbling as if drunk.  The slope of the land took it away from the two women, although the dogs barked for some time to prod the beast onward.

   â€œWhat the hell was that!?!” Falla asked, visibly shaking.

   â€œA bear,” Jossie said, licking her lips.  She didn't mention that its dazed behaviour was typical of a carnivore coming out of a fog-induced wrath.  That meant that there was fog nearby, or there had been within the day.  She scanned the sky again, which was becoming cloudier.  If they lost the moon behind the clouds it would be very difficult to navigate the thick brush of the forest floor.  The smart move would be to turn back now and wait for daylight.

   That's when they heard the scream of a small child drift faintly through the twisted branches.

*   *   *   *   *

   Now it was the women's feet that crunched the leaves at double time, while the two dogs bounded almost soundlessly ahead of them towards the sound.  Their path was blocked here and there by the tangle of thick undergrowth, made all the more unnavigable by the moon disappearing behind the occasional cloud.  In the deep blackness without the moon they felt their way more like moles than women, for the lantern cast a feeble light more than two strides out.  And then a root snared Falla's foot and the lantern was dropped, its flame extinguished.

   â€œOh god!” she whimpered.  “Oh god!”  Frantically she fumbled with the few matches she had, dropping them into the leaves in her panic.  “Oh god!”

   But Jossie saw the cloud was passing, and the moonlight almost breaking through.  And she heard the dogs ahead, sniffing at the ground.  Slowly, carefully, she picked her way forward.  “What is it, boys?” she asked, straining to see through the blackness.  Lupins sneezed, and kept sniffing.  Charmo whimpered.  Jossie knew that sound, and it filled her with an icy dread.  She drew her knife and crouched, stalking forward, sweeping the leaves gently ahead of her with her hand.  “Where is it, Charmo?” she whispered, afraid the fear in her voice might carry to Falla's ears.

   â€œDon't leave me!” the silly teenager whined, still fretting uselessly with her matches.

   And then Jossie found what she knew she would.  It was rigid but a little spongy, wrapped in tattered cloth.  The moon suddenly broke free of the cloud and she could see plainly that it was a severed human arm, still squeezing a bloody axe with a death grip.  Charmo stood sniffing at the rest of the remains, which were splattered about the small clearing, while Lupins had sniffed out a bloody trail that disappeared into a thicket.  “Lupins, no!” Jossie barked, and the dog obediently sat.

   â€œGot it!” Falla said triumphantly, holding aloft the glowing lantern.  Jossie turned to see the haunting glow of a dozen eyes behind her, floating in the shadows just beyond the light.

   The terrifying shriek of fog-maddened raccoons pierced the night.  Falla jumped, startled, sending the lamp hurling to smash on the ground where the oil ignited the paper-dry leaves, illuminating the deranged beasts like blood-smeared demons.  The flames seemed to hypnotise them ever so briefly.  Falla stood there, frozen, but Jossie had the presence of mind to thrust the walking stick into the fire, then use it to drive the wretched creatures back.  The dogs brayed and growled menacingly, but they instinctively kept their distance from the mangy creatures that spat like vipers and shrieked like wraithes.

   â€œCome on!” Jossie tugged her young companion who was quite paralyzed with fear.

   â€œWe're dead.  We're s-s-so dead,” the girl stuttered.

   â€œCome on!”

*   *   *   *   *

   Frantically they stumbled through the undergrowth, with only the faltering moonlight and the reddish glow of the embers on the end of the walking stick to guide them.  Twisted branches and gnarled roots grabbed at them, tripping them, tearing their clothes, and pulling their hair.  The sound of the shrieking raccoons and the barking dogs receded, replaced by the almost hysterical sobs of Falla.

   Jossie stopped dead, turned on the girl, and slapped her hard right across the face.  “Get a grip or you're fucking dead!” she hissed.  Falla was startled into silence, which is how they were suddenly able to hear other, quieter weeping coming from the hollow in a nearby tree.

   â€œMalla!  Halla!” Falla gasped with astonishment.  She hugged her sisters close.

   â€œWe're so scared!” one of the sisters managed between sobs.

   â€œIt's ok!  It's ok!  It's....” Falla soothed, but trailed off uncertainly as the moon rose again, showing a sinister bank of red fog rolling through the trees.

   Jossie was already staring at it, weighing her options.  The dogs were lost now, of that she had no doubt.  There would be a respite when they first breathed the fog, first choking on their own bile and then seizuring ominously.  But then once the madness took hold they would hunt them down like starving wolves.  They had three choices.  First they could hide in a tree, but the dogs would surely sniff them out and the raccoons would finish them off.  She had seen it before: fog-maddened carnivores working in an unholy cross-species alliance.  Second, they could find water to throw the dogs off the scent, but they had mere minutes to do so in the dark, and the sound of their stumbling about in the woods would surely alert any carnivore for hundreds of yards.  Third....  Well, there were no good options now, but it was probably their best bet.

   â€œInto the fog,” she commanded.

*   *   *   *   *

   The air glowed a hellish red inside the fog, but Jossie could still not see her own hand at arm's length.  It was quiet as the grave, too, with all sound being muffled by the evil vapours.  Jossie was counting on that.  Without sound or sight to guide them the dogs would be greatly slowed in their pursuit.  Feeling her way forward, she led the girls all in a line like a mother duck.  Down, down, always down slope.  There must be water soon, she thought.

   Suddenly there was a cold, flat surface blocking her path.  A cliff!  A cliff at the bottom of a hill?  She felt along its contours.  No, stone work.  A wall?  No, an abandoned stone cottage!  The door was missing, and the roof was half-collapsed, but it was the closest thing to shelter they were apt to find stumbling blindly through the wilderness.

   A spine-chilling roar nearby made up her mind for her.  The bear!

   â€œInside!” she shouted.

   Falla hesitated.  “What about rats?”

   â€œRats aren't carnivorans, they're rodents,” Jossie spat back.  She could hear the bear lurching menacingly through the undergrowth towards them.  “Just get inside!”

   Inside the cottage was quite ransacked by time and nature.  There was nothing in one piece enough to block the door, let alone the windows and the gaping hole where part of the roof had collapsed.  Jossie cast about the place frantically, looking for a weapon or a distraction, or a....

   â€œInto the oven,” she ordered.  The small girls fit easily, but for Falla and herself it was quite the contortion to squeeze inside the stone oven.  As the rage-possessed bear burst through the door she finally managed to pull her last limb inside and latch the metal door.

   Howls and shrieks and grating claws terrorized them for the rest of the night.  All three sisters wept and sobbed and shook and wailed.  But Jossie did not speak or sooth.  She knew the long hours ahead would make them hoarse and weary.  In the end girls would sleep, and eventually so too would the beasts outside when the adrenaline of madness finally wore off.  So Jossie waited.  Silently, patiently, and unafraid. 

    In the morning she would find her babies.


Spoiler
It runs pretty long as is, but I regret not being able to include the scene I originally envisaged when I started the project: the dogs approaching after a separation, and Jossie being slowly filled with foreboding, unsure if they were friendly or mad.  But then art is never truly finished, merely abandoned.... (roll)
[close]

Sinitrena

Time is up, everyone, and the entries are in:

A light in the marsh by Blondbraid
Blood Fog by Baron

Thank you both for some amazing stories!

As always, we vote in categories:

Character: You find one or several characters really believable/captivating/magnetic/unique, etc.
Plot: The story arc was well-organized, coherent, and well-executed with appropriate pacing.
Atmosphere: This is all about feeling: did the story evoke strong feelings due to excitement/humour/intrigue/wonder/emotional intensity?
Background World: The best setting or milieu for a story; a place brought to life.
Word Choice/Style: The technical art of combining words in clever or gripping ways
Spookiness: The story that sent this nice little shiver down your spine...

One vote per category. Get them in for Halloween (31. Oct.)

Baron

Character: I vote Blondbraid for Clara.  Her sparse words and absent-minded humming were perfect for a ghost.

Plot: I vote Blondbraid for a haunting tale with an appropriate reveal at the end.

Atmosphere: I vote Blondbraid for his vivid description of the eerie marsh.

Background World: I vote Blondbraid for the haunted marsh.

Word Choice/Style: I vote Blondbraid for some excellent descriptive language.  The skeletal hands of the branches spring to mind, but there were many others.

Spookiness: This was a tough one but, hmmmmmmm.....  I think I'm going to vote Blondbraid for an appropriately spooky Hallowe'en story. ;-D

Blondbraid

Character: I vote Baron for Jossie, such a strong-minded and capable hero.

Plot: I vote Baron for an exciting story of rescue and survival.

Atmosphere: I vote Baron for capturing a harrowing night in a forest surrounded by ravenous predators.

Background world: I vote Baron for an interesting and scary world.

Word Choice/style: I vote Baron for using wording that really helped me get into the mood and mindset of the characters.

Spookiness:I vote Baron for such a terrifying mist with even more terrifying effects on the wildlife.


Baron

Ooooooooo!  A tie! :shocked:  Such an unanticipated plot twist! (roll)

Seriously, though, could we get another couple voters to break this stalemate? :undecided:

kconan

Both were really good entries...I had an idea for this one, but couldn't swing it in time due to work travel.

Character: Baron for Jossie

Plot: Baron

Atmosphere: Baron

Background World: Blondebraid

Word Choice/style: Baron

Spookiness: Blondebraid

JudasFm

Character: Blondebraid I felt more sympathy for this character somehow...
Plot: Baron; the meeting-a-dead-person-in-the-misty-marsh has been done too often to really grip me
Atmosphere: This was a really tough one, but I have to go with Blondebraid
Background World: Baron I would have liked to see this one developed a little more
Word Choice/style: Blondebraid Apologies to Baron, but your writing is a little too purple to suit me, and this time more than usual :(
Spookiness: I'll have to go with Baron, purely because I couldn't predict what was going to happen ;)

As always, the above is nothing more than one person's opinion. No offense intended with any of my remarks :)

Sinitrena

Alright, I left the voting open for a bit longer, hoping for some more comments - because these two stories deserve all the votes, comments and all around appreciation.

Blondbraid, who recieved 11 votes and comes in second, tells a story with a basic premisse found in many a horror story. The uncertainty and danger of the marshes is described in a wonderfully atmospheric text. I espescilly liked that, while a reader should pick up on the fact that Clara is a ghost or some kind of supernatural being, it is not entirely clear whether she is good or evil. Both kinds of stories exist, those where a sinister spirit leads a wanderer astray and those where someone is saved from a dangerous place by the ghost of a recently deseased person. It is great that, even at the end, both of these interpretations are possible and make sense.

Baron, who wins with 13 votes, tells a wonderful story that leaves a lot to the imagination while clearly describing the actual events of the story. We learn everything we need to know, but there are still so many questions, concerning worldbuilding (what exactly is the fog and where does it come from?) and characters (why did Jossie decide to live far from everyone else?) that the reader is left wanting more. This is probably also due to the fairly abrupt ending (I know, time was running out, but if I had to criticise something, that would be it) not just for the plot but for the characters as well.

Once again, two very good stories this time. Thank you both.

Baron, your turn!

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