As the title suggests, BRACE YOURSELVES FOR UNFINISHED WORKS. Honestly speaking, I feel that these shorts may have a chance so feel free to finish em up or something, I don't know! Enjoy. Regards, A lazy-ass part time writer Genre: Romance Spoiler: Being Poor Isn't Everything Posh, is what most would describe her. Diamond earrings hung from her earlobes while a pearl necklace rested on her thin shoulders. She has never left the comforts of her luxurious home without being adorned in designer clothes, shoes and handbags. Behind the glitz and glamour hid a snobbish, selfish and wicked woman. Her only daughter, Andrea, was the exact opposite of her. Kind hearted, gentle and modest. Andrea was wedded a month ago to a poor farmer while she was away for a business trip during the special occasion. Andrea kept the special occasion a secret from her because she knew her mother would reject the whole thing. When she returned home, she found out because Andrea was nowhere to be seen in the 4 storey building which she calls home. She found a letter written by Andrea for her. Andrea claimed it was out of true love but she had her own speculations. “How can my daughter, who gets whatever she wants immediately, stand being poor because of a man?” she snapped. Of course, it was irrational. “Andrea grew up, for 25 years, in a luxurious lifestyle and suddenly, all that power and wealth she had once had at her fingertips is now gone. How can I, as a mother, neglect this fact?” Andrea left the address at the end of the letter and by the end of the day, she was already there, looking at the old, shabby barn. The windmill was broken, the silo had holes at the top half and wooden fixtures at the other, the red paint on the barn had visible peeling and to top that off, the only house she could see in the area was an old wooden house. The windows were broken and there was broken glass scattered all over the termite infested porch. The roof was made from scrap metal or something of similar kind. Rust had already formed and there were visible holes on it as well. “Andrea, my poor baby girl. She must be living in utter hell right now,” she sobbed, “There’s even no signal here!” She marched to the front door. There she was greeted by “guests”, cockroaches. How much she hated those pests. Icky, 6-legged and winged creatures that infests putrid wastelands like this house itself. Moreover, she despised the sight of these scums. She stomped her foot hard onto the creaky, rotting floor hoping to kill some but instead made a hole just right for her foot to get in, not out. “Andrea!” she screamed, “Andrea! Baby girl! Come out here and help mommy! Mommy is stuck!” Footsteps rushed to the front door but the person who opened the green door was not her daughter instead a young man. “I really need to fix this place soon,” he exclaimed. She stared at him, “Don’t just stand there. Get me out of here!” she snarled. “Wait here,” was all he could say before he bolted back into the shabby house. After a full 5 minutes or so, the young man returned with a crowbar in his hand. She looked at him, dazed, “What are you going to do with that?” she stuttered. “Getting you out of there,” he exclaimed as he lifted the crowbar above his head, aimed inches away from her lodged foot and slammed the crowbar down into the rotting planks. She screamed, “What are you doing?! Are you trying to kill me?” Genre: Horror/Thriller Spoiler: Don't Look Behind “Let’s play a game. It’s called ‘Don’t Look Behind’,” it whispered. I wouldn’t say it was just one thing but more like a few things. The whispers sounded smoky, even slightly chalky. But they still sounded much like whispers you’d get from a little girl with a sore throat asking you to play Hide and Seek with her. Daniel, I quote, “the bravest amongst us”, challenged the entity or entities, “What if we don’t want to play your game?” You see, Daniel has a knack for being rebellious. If he could see them, he’d probably spat at them without a doubt. Alex, Suzie, Fred and I were more level-headed. We were sitting in a circle and exchanging concerned looks about Daniel’s fate. Soon, silence swallowed us as fast as the whispers filled this old empty room. The candles were our only source of light in this abandoned house. We found this place just a few miles out of town. It was overgrown with crawlers but still pretty usable for our little ritual. The room we chose was on the first floor, down the corridor and on the first room to our left. It was big and spacious, presumably the master bedroom. It was too the only room in the entire house which wasn’t locked. We looked around the room, ears twitched as we struggled to pick up the slightest of sound. The flickering of our candles against the peeling wallpaper added to the already freaky mood. Daniel challenged them again, “What if we don’t want to play?” Ubiquitous giggling filled the room, more childlike and girly than the whispering before. The giggling subsided and one by one the candles in front of us blew out. Mine was the first, then Alex’s, Fred’s and Suzie’s. Daniel’s candle flickered slightly more than it should but it remained lit. “I’m not scared by your games, Miss Whoever-You-Are!” Daniel shouted. He tried to put on a brave act but his voice trembled as clear as day. I looked at Daniel, wanting to shush him but words couldn’t leave my mouth as I saw black stick like “fingers” emerged from the darkness and onto his shoulders. Like a spider it crept towards his neck. We should tell him, all of us knew, but we were scared shitless to even breathe. A darker shape appeared behind his left shoulder, resembling the shape of a deformed head recovering from a shotgun wound. Pearly white eyes popped open and they seem to have smiled menacingly. It said in a childish tone, “Then I’ll make you play.” The flame of his candle went out, a quick thud on the wooden floor followed. Is he dead? We all wondered. The answer came sooner than we had expected as Daniel’s candle magically relighted. Suzie vomited almost immediately for Daniel’s head was placed right behind of his candle, a bloody smile carved from ear to ear. His body was minced and cubed, bones protruded from the mass of meat as it sat behind Daniel’s decapitated head. “If you don’t play with me, this will happen to each and every one of you.” “We’ll play your stupid game!” Fred shouted, “Just don’t fucking slice us up.” It giggled, “Alright. The game is like cat and mouse; I’ll be the cat and you guys be the mice. You have 10 seconds before I come.” Genre: Supposedly Romance (?) but I think it was some tragic story about a boy being bullied for being weird Spoiler: Stranger Days “Hey Karen, have you seen Darren anywhere?” Jasper asked. “You mean that Wickstock kid? Probably at the park bench reading a book,” Karen said as she stringed her bow, “Or my best guess is he’s probably at that old house again, conjuring up a pony of some sort from his cauldron,” she sneered. Karen took an arrow out of her quiver which was resting against a small tree and pulled back her bow. With inhuman accuracy, she released the string and the arrow flew straight into a tree with densely packed leaves. Karen held her hand out and grabbed the dead Turkin which fell right into her palm. “Dinner’s served,” she said with great delight. “Your eyes indeed are something,” Jasper said in awe. “Why thank you, my kind sir,” Karen said as she turned around, “You’d better be on your way before he blows himself up again.” Situated at the edge of a hill stood an abandoned house. It was built hundreds of years ago but since its last owners moved out, it has turned into an overgrown bush. Vines and crawlers infested the exterior of the house and the once glorious rose beds had overgrown into the walkway. Untrimmed for years, thorns threatened anyone who was foolish enough to go near them. Jasper was at the foot of the hill as he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Darren! You’re needed by Mr. Kindrisk, he says it’s urgent!” He waited for a good minute for Darren’s response before deciding to go up there himself. As he made his way up the rather steep incline, an explosion shook the ground, forcing Jasper to kneel before he fell into the thorn beds. His first thought was to get Darren out and somewhere safe, since trouble kept finding him. As the rumbling subsided, he bolted towards the house while screaming Darren’s name. As he reached the top of the hill Genre: Tragic. Spoiler: On Rainy Days Like These “Hey Karen, have you seen Darren anywhere?” Jasper asked. “You mean that Wickstock kid? Probably at the park bench reading a book,” Karen said as she stringed her bow, “Or my best guess is he’s probably at that old house again, conjuring up a pony of some sort from his cauldron,” she sneered. Karen took an arrow out of her quiver which was resting against a small tree and pulled back her bow. With inhuman accuracy, she released the string and the arrow flew straight into a tree with densely packed leaves. Karen held her hand out and grabbed the dead Turkin which fell right into her palm. “Dinner’s served,” she said with great delight. “Your eyes indeed are something,” Jasper said in awe. “Why thank you, my kind sir,” Karen said as she turned around, “You’d better be on your way before he blows himself up again.” Situated at the edge of a hill stood an abandoned house. It was built hundreds of years ago but since its last owners moved out, it has turned into an overgrown bush. Vines and crawlers infested the exterior of the house and the once glorious rose beds had overgrown into the walkway. Untrimmed for years, thorns threatened anyone who was foolish enough to go near them. Jasper was at the foot of the hill as he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Darren! You’re needed by Mr. Kindrisk, he says it’s urgent!” He waited for a good minute for Darren’s response before deciding to go up there himself. As he made his way up the rather steep incline, an explosion shook the ground, forcing Jasper to kneel before he fell into the thorn beds. His first thought was to get Darren out and somewhere safe, since trouble kept finding him. As the rumbling subsided, he bolted towards the house while screaming Darren’s name. As he reached the top of the hill Genre: Humour, Utter Nonsense Spoiler: Like Every Other Supposed To Be Horror Stories? Like every supposed to be horror movie or story, I woke up precisely at 3am. I sat straight on my bed and I scanned my room. My eyes darted around, unable to make any sense of the shapes I was seeing. I was blind as a bat without my glasses and even in daytime, I would knock into things or people without them but at night, the whole room can come alive. So I sat and waited for something to jump out and scare me or even kill me in the most horrible way I could think of. I waited and waited but nothing happened, like it should’ve. In my mind, I was sure something was bound to happen. I dismissed the thought and flumped back into bed, only to be greeted by a soft meow. My eyes flung opened and my head immediately turned to the direction of that sound. In the darkness, I could make out a feline beside my bed, staring at me with its glowing eyes. I got out of bed and ran to the light switch. My fingers fumbled for the switch until I had somehow flicked it on. The lights blinded me as my eyes have grown accustomed to the dark. I squinted my eyes and looked at the cat. The cat was sitting on the floor, licking its paw. Its fur was tinted with sunset orange and darker orange stripes along its back. Areas like his paws, ears and nose were highlighted with fur as white as snow. Strange, I thought, I don’t own a cat but it’s indeed a magnificent being even though it was only licking its paw. I slowly crept towards the cat, making sure not to frighten it. Somehow, the cat’s fur just want me want to touch it and touching it was the only thing I could think of other than wondering how did this cat enter my room as the windows were locked and blinded. I was only a foot away from it when its head turned directly at my direction, its emerald eyes staring at me. “H-Hello there, kitty,” I nervously said, “You have very nice fur. C-Can I touch it?” What on earth was I thinking talking to a cat? I mean, cats can’t talk back, can they? “No you may not, you child-like of a human,” it said as it looked at me sarcastically, “And I am no mere ‘kitty’, foolish human. I am the Puss in Boots. Fear me, if you dare!” A talking cat? COOL! It stood on its hind legs and as if it was magic, he drew a rapier out from an invisible shaft. I’m out of here. Thus, I darted out of the house. I remember running down the walkway aimlessly for a few good minutes until I face slammed something. I feel backwards with one hand holding my head and the other covering my mouth as I didn’t want to alert the neighbourhood that some psycho was screaming in the wee hours of morning. Mind you, that hurt a lot. I struggled to stand up as my butt was feeling rather numb from sitting on the cold pavement. I felt myself fall forwards and thought, “Fuck,” someone grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back up. P. S. Ignore all grammar/spelling mistakes. Thanks.
